I will figure out a name later

Money Worries

2012-02-15T16:41:00.000-08:00

When I took the new job, I wasn't too concerned about the pay cut. We would be fine on the two modest salaries and Billy would soon get promoted to manager. My pessimism about getting pregnant slated me for a 2014 baby at the earliest. We would be fine!

So now that I am so very happily pregnant, we have experienced a few big financial changes. First and worst, our mortgage went up $400 per month. Our escrow was messed up and in the red. The lender is an idiot and didn't realize that the estimated taxes and actual taxes didn't match up for two years. That $400 is a big chunk of our money.

Second, Billy got promoted but to assistant manager. It's still a raise. That's great and I am so proud of him. We were led to believe he's go straight to manager but that's life. Unfortunately, the pay isn't as high. It's a great help but I don't think we can live off just his wages with our million dollar mortgage.

That leaves me. I will get no maternity leave. I am not ever eligible for FMLA to hold my job. I honestly don't know what they will offer me. If I go back to this job, I will be paying well over half my earnings in child care. It upsets me so much. I wanted to, no, want to stay at home. I am just not sure if that's feasible. Going back seems no smarter financially.

I need to figure out a part time job, a better paying job a gig or something that will help the family and not require full-time child care. Until then, we save. No babymoon. No push presents. I wasn't expecting those anyway.

Sunday Night at home - Enchilada Pie

2012-02-12T17:47:00.001-08:00

My sickness has broken. It is now just fountains of boogers running down my throat and face followed by wet sneezes. Lovely.

We spent today going to Naperville to look at a fancy baby furniture store. It was way outside our budget and I only liked a couple cribs. One was $1,300! I think we will stick to the $300 crib (no longer feeling guilty about that price) and look for two nice antique/vintage dressers. Our local consignment furniture store usually has nice pieces at Ikea prices. Only they're often well made with hard woods and good carpentry.

We came home underwhelmed by the thought of a 3K nursery. I announced the pregnancy on facebook today and I got the appropriate excited responses. I am also cooking dinner. Go me!

This one looks pretty good for a pantry meal

Enchilada Pie:

4 flour tortillas the size of a pie pan (9 inches I think)

1 can black beans

1 can enchilada sauce

1/2 cup frozen corn

1 cup diced tomato. I had about 10 big cherry tomatoes.

1 few diced shrimp, cause I had them

1 cup shredded cheese

1/4 cup sour cream

garlic powder - that's right. Too lazy to microplane a clove of garlic.

Chop up the tomatoes and shrimp. Toss with the corn and rinsed beans. Season with salt and garlic powder but not too much.

Rub a little olive oil on the bottom of the pan. Beginning with a tortilla on the bottom, layer 1/3 of the veggies and sour cream on top and about 1/4 of the sauce and cheese. Repeat with two more tortillas. Place last tortilla on top of veggies and pour over the remaining sauce and sprinkle with the remaining cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes. Let cool ten minutes before serving.

Sick at Week Thirteen

2012-02-11T18:18:00.000-08:00

I spent the majority of this week in bed. My cold quickly became a full-blown illness with a super congested nose, green snot and a sore throat. I was so upset to have those few days of feeling good only to have them whisked away. Now, I think I am on the mend but I am still tired and sore. Now my nose is red and raw and I am scared about how this affects the baby.

I also have a painful little spot in my arm pit that I think it a lymph node. I thought I had a pimple or ingrown hair, so I tried to squeeze it. I quickly realized that isn't the case. So now my crazy brain is on cancer watch. I am not touching it and hoping it's related to the sickness.

In other news, I have been really lucky this pregnancy to only vomit a few times. Well, tonight was one of them. I had a strong craving for a baked potato and pickles. So, that's what I made. A few bites into my delicious food, I had the sudden realization that it was going to come up, pronto. I have never had such a random onset of the puking.

Now, Billy is making me an oven corn dog. Yes, I am aware of the irony of wanting a corn dog after vomiting. Pregnancy is so weird.

How far along are you? 13 weeks
How big is baby? a peach
Weight gain/loss? waistbands are tight
Stretch marks? same. Today I took a bath and looked down. I thought I had a linea negra. I literally gasped. I was so surprised to see that line. Then I looked at it and realized it was crooked...and it matched up with the seam of my pajama pants. D'oh!
Maternity clothes? I bought a few things this week. It was a total mix from Marshall's and Goodwill.Yes, Goodwill. I don't want to go broke on maternity clothes.
Best moment this week? Finding a maternity tankini top with the tags on for $2!
Gender? No clue
Movement? round ligament pain. Damn, that stuff hurts.
Belly button? regular
Symptoms? Other than my sickness, just tiredness, breast itching and darkening, my bloat is slowly firming up.
Cravings? apples, pineapple, chicken soup
What do I miss? feeling good
What I'm looking forward to this week? I have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, Valentines Day! I think we will announce this pregnancy on Facebook too.
Milestones? Totally random vomiting and pickle cravings on the same day! Now, that's pregnancy. Also, I am entering my second trimester this week.

Twelve Weeks

2012-02-07T17:57:00.000-08:00

How far along are you? 12 weeks
How big is baby? a plum or a lime
Weight gain/loss? I think I may have gained a couple pounds
Stretch marks? same
Maternity clothes? Almost need them. I wore my pants fastened with a hair tie this week. Billy is so sweet. He won a Super Bowl pool and is giving me the $200 to buy maternity clothes.
Best moment this week? I've had some really energetic and happy times
Gender? I have had more and more girl thoughts.
Movement? deep down cramping on occasion. While I can't feel the baby move, I can sense the mass that is my uterus when I bend.
Belly button? The same.
Symptoms? Sneezing, itching, terrible tasting mouth (not metallic - just gross), puking every time I think about a toothbrush and heartburn
Cravings? Fruit. I ate two bananas and an apple today. Avocado all week and sour pickled things.
What do I miss? having a full wardrobe to choose from
What I'm looking forward to this week? One step closer to the second trimester. Oh, and a party at my sister in law's place on Friday.
Milestones? Starting to put away some regular clothes.

Eleven Weeks

2012-01-29T07:47:00.000-08:00

How far along are you? 11 weeks
How big is baby? a lime. Doesn't that sound big?
Weight gain/loss? No clue until the doctor weighs me
Stretch marks? same
Maternity clothes? I bought pants and a dress a Target. I'll need them soon enough.
Best moment this week? I am going to look at baby furniture today.
Gender? my feeling has been boy but I don't care either way.
Movement? no but I've had some odd cramps on my sides.
Belly button? The same.
Symptoms? Breast pain, itchiness, swelling and anything else that can happen to a breast. General ickiness and still very tired.
Cravings? Fruit and carbs, Coca-cola and Dr. Pepper
What do I miss? feeling pretty
What I'm looking forward to this week? Feeling a bit better every day. Oh, and I'll tell my book club on the weekend.
Milestones? Today I have 200 days left in this pregnancy. That seems doable.

I'm ALIVE!

2012-01-24T16:36:00.000-08:00

Today, for the first time in over a month, I cooked food. I actually chopped and onion and made some black beans and rice for dinner. Yes, it was simple and yes, it was on the bland side, but it was still really tasty. I don't care. It's a victory. Real food. Real cooking. I am coming back to life. Thank you end of the first trimester.

Billy is also thrilled. I did the dishes. He's had to do them for weeks. I would wretch at the smell. I couldn't even open our garbage can without holding my breath. Did you know holding you breath can make you gag? Yeah. That sucked.

Ten Weeks/31 years

2012-01-22T16:14:00.000-08:00

I turned 31 yesterday. I didn't eat cake or celebrate. Billy worked a late shift so we had the whole morning. He made me breakfast and shoveled the driveway and sidewalk. I wasn't allowed to help. I went to my Mom's for the afternoon. I rocked my nephew and cooed at him. I watched him get so excited he laughed little belly laughs. My sister gave ma a beautiful baby wrap. I napped. I ate some real food and I went home. Billy brought me sparkling grape juice and we watched an episode of Bones and fell asleep on the couch. It was a great birthday despite making a terrible story.

I felt strong and happy all day. I was surrounded by love and fun. The dogs and cats all visited me and slept on my lap. I felt lucky all day long.

How far along are you? 10 weeks
How big is baby? A prune. Gross.
Weight gain/loss? About the same as last week
Stretch marks? Same ole, same ole
Maternity clothes? Not yet but I think I should buy some soon
Best moment this week? having my birthday and closing the book on the past year
Gender? I go back and forth. For the first time, I think it might be a girl. Also the heartbeat was a girl heart beat. I got my old wives tales wrong.
Movement? not for another couple months. I can feel something internal if I bend over. It's a new presence.
Belly button? The same.
Symptoms? Feeling so much better this past week. I can stay up past 8pm and I often enjoy food.
Cravings? sour and vinegar things like pickles, lemons and vinaigrettes.
What do I miss? warm weather
What I'm looking forward to this week? just moving forward
Milestones? 25% there!

Nine Weeks

2012-01-17T16:24:00.000-08:00

How far along are you? 9.5 weeks
How big is baby? The size of a green olive...yummy salty green olive.
Weight gain/loss? I lost 5 pounds in the past 4 weeks
Stretch marks? Same ole, same ole
Maternity clothes? No but I ripped a hope in the back of one of my few pairs of pants today
Best moment this week? An hour ago hearing the baby's heartbeat on the doppler
Gender? I still think boy. It has a boy heart rate (170)
Movement? no.
Belly button? The same.
Symptoms? Sour stomach and the breast pain is back. Feeling stronger but still very sleepy. Food aversions are more patchy now. Pimples are new and breast itching too.
Cravings? Mostly bland stuff, fruit and yogurt with occasional forays into real food.
What do I miss? energy
What I'm looking forward to this week? sleep
Milestones? first doppler heart beat!

Thinking about names

2012-01-14T18:37:00.000-08:00

So, if the baby is healthy and good, which it seems to be so far, we are going to have to choose a name for it. That's a daunting task. I love names and I've planned baby names all my life. In junior high I wanted two girls named Tessa and Alyssa. I thought that pair was the height of chic. I named all my pets carefully and with human names.

So the fact that this is the big leagues, a real baby name, has me scared. I don't want to do it wrong. My friends named their son something "interesting and different" five years ago. Aiden. That's right. Just like every other little boy you meet. You can't walk through a classroom without tripping on three.

Then there is the friend of a friend who named her son Finnegan, no nickname. I think it's selfishly pretentious to name your kid something terrible just to announce to the world that your smartypants self reads James Joyce. I am sure she doesn't think it's terrible. She picked it after all. I just can't imagine how that was the best name of all the names in the world.

Then we have friends who asked us if they could claim the name Jayden in case they ever had a boy. We quickly agreed. They can happily have Jayden, a name that makes me think of high school students, not the college educated professionals they are. It makes Finnegan sound more and more appealing.

It's so easy to judge. This one too hot. This one too cold. But which one is just right?

So today I asked Dad about his grandparents' names. I am interested in family names and I don't know past my own grandparents.

So, my great-grandparents are: Mary and Walter Alva, Myrtle Millie and Charles. Dad doesn't know what Mary's middle name was or if she had one. He told me Charles' middle name and my pregnancy brain has forgotten. Not a bad list. Still, I don't think Myrtle is making a comeback this generation.

Eight Weeks

2012-01-07T17:51:00.000-08:00

How far along are you? 8 weeks
How big is baby? The size of a raspberry or pinto bean. Different books offer different foods.
Weight gain/loss? Not weighing myself but I feel the same only bloated.
Stretch marks? The new stretch marks did not disappear unfortunately.
Maternity clothes? Not yet but I think I will need some pants options soon
Best moment this week? Feeling some energy mid-week
Gender? I still think boy. I had a boy dream.
Movement? no.
Belly button? The same.
Symptoms? Pulling/aching/cramp that makes a backward bend painful, intermittent exhaustion, 1 bout of vomiting, food aversions, huge boobs, aversions to vegetables and meat.
Cravings? Bland food in small quantities
What do I miss? Feeling like myself
What I'm looking forward to this week? Entering the last month of the first trimester.
Milestones? first morning sickness

Week 7

2011-12-28T13:32:00.000-08:00

I have seen this on pregnancy blogs and I think it's a good memento. Since this is basically just my diary, I want to remember these things.

How far along are you? 7 weeks
How big is baby? The size of a blueberry (last week it was just a lentil).
Weight gain/loss? None so far but my first appointment weigh-in was awful. I have gained weight over the last year. At least ten pounds.
Stretch marks? YES! I have bright red squiggles on my abdomen. It's gross and weird considering I am not really bigger yet. I got them the week I found out.
Maternity clothes? No. I did buy two new shelf bras though. My breasts are huge.
Best moment this week? Telling our families at Christmas
Gender? Way too early. I think boy.
Movement? Way too early.
Belly button? The same.
Symptoms? Breast sensitivity, light nausea but constantly churning stomach. Food aversions and feeling constantly hungry but repulsed by food. Extreme fatigue.
Cravings? Tart and sour (lemonade), fruit, bland starchy foods
What do I miss? Feeling energetic.
What I'm looking forward to this week? Extra sleep.
Milestones? I heard a heartbeat!

After Christmas

2011-12-26T13:08:00.000-08:00

It's Boxing Day today and I think it might be Kobi the dog's eighth birthday. I am home alone at the start of my week off. Billy's at work and the animals have been surrounding me all day. If I didn't know I was pregnant, I'd fear we had a carbon monoxide leak. I am so very tired all the time.

Every night I sleep a good 9-10 hours. Every afternoon I fall asleep. I am so happy to have this break. What will happen when I go back to work? Not only to I need to be awake, I need to be focused on details. I guess that's a part of HR or something.

I napped with both dogs and two cats for an hour and a half today, crashing out around noon and waking up with an open drool mouth. Only Violet snubbed the big bed. Orlando even slept on my belly.

My appetite is really odd. I will mostly forget to eat. I will be moderately hungry almost always but everything sounds bad. I've only vomited twice after eating very heavy meals that I should have known were a bad idea. Mostly, I have a sour stomach that feels like a low grade hangover. I am convinced that a finicky toddler and stole replaced my taste buds with her own.

My brain is on a loop of, "Oh, I'm hungry I should eat...why does my stomach feel so gross...an apple sounds good...Nevermind, keep that apple away it sounds terrible...why am I still hungry...Oh, I never ate that apple...I should have some soup...Soup is the most horrible thing on the planet; I can smell its vileness from inside the can...I feel hungry...Why does my stomach hurt?"

For a girl who likes to discuss her next meal during most meals, this is so weird.

So the good news is, we've told our families. Everyone got excited. Mom cried. Grandma cried. It was a wonderful Christmas surprise to share.

My Day Ahead

2011-12-19T06:04:00.000-08:00

Today is doctor day. I didn't make it this far last time, so I am excited to go the the office like regular people do. Billy is coming with me.

We are in the middle of an escrow freak out. The bank has told us that we will owe an additional $400 per month due to their screw up. This has actually helped me focus on something other than the pregnancy. Now, if the bank woman would just call me back, I'd feel better. An answer, even a bad one, is more comforting than waiting. I am really hoping for a good answer.

Yesterday was Sunday. I slept a solid nine hours Saturday night. I lounged around the house Sunday morning, napped for over an hour and went to bed at 8:30 pm last night. I was so tired. I just hope that I banked up the extra rest so I have energy to function today.

Just one week of work and then a week off for Christmas!

General Freaking Out

2011-12-12T06:27:00.001-08:00

I really wish my mom would keep her mouth shut sometimes. I love her. I do. She just says terribly inappropriate things some times. A month after my last pregnancy she told me, "I knew something was wrong when you weren't getting morning sickness."

She is not a doctor and I am only six weeks along. Many sources tell me that morning sickness will kick in over the next couple weeks. Logic doesn't matter. I am so scared that something is wrong. Where other women would be thrilled to not be queasy, I am scared.

I wake up every morning and think, "Oh no, my boobs don't hurt as much as they did yesterday," or "My abdomen doesn't feel tight and pully. That's it. It's over." I have another week exactly until my first appointment and I am getting more scared. It was a week before my appointment that I started bleeding last time. I can vividly remember the bathroom at work and the swipe of pink.

I was so scared but I told myself a little pink was nothing. I would talk to the doctor at my appointment. Within an hour, that pink was red and steady. That's when I called the doctor, called the insurance company, told my boss (who must have seen the terror in my face and the red eyes because he didn't question me leaving for a second) and went to the ER.

It's amazing how a whole life plan can collapse in an hour. It's amazing that one comment from my mother can haunt me as I lay in bed and wait for nausea. I am trying so hard to make my mantra about today only. Today I am pregnant. Today I am hopeful.

2011-12-10T11:39:00.000-08:00

Today I am making food for Grandma. She has another stomach surgery. My mother in law is here. My brother and sister in law will be taking baby Genevieve to the grandparents' house this afternoon. I am making crock pot chicken barbecue sandwiches and Asia slaw to take over. I'm such a grown up. Okay, if my sister in law hadn't brought over food last time, I'd have never thought of it. She's a much more considerate person than I am in that way.

So far, so good on the pregnancy. I am queasy sometimes, which makes me happy. I am thirsty, a little ditzy, tired, crampy in different from menstrual way and my boobs are always a little sore. I want so badly to be 100% invested in this pregnancy and then, at the same time, I want to hold back. It's only been a week of knowing but I feel more connected to the pregnancy now, as if it's been too long and I couldn't possible lose it. That's not at all true. Last time I was another week along when I started bleeding. Anything is possible. I am not guaranteed a healthy bouncing baby at the end. I am not guaranteed anything. That doesn't mean I'm not hopeful.

First Appointment is made

2011-12-07T06:30:00.001-08:00

I have an appointment for December 19th but I know there won't be an ultrasound (I asked). I was hoping for a heartbeat for Christmas. I think if we had one, I'd be forced to tell on Christmas. We haven't told anyone yet. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's only been a few days. Well, I usually tell people about their gift the day I buy it. I cannot help it. I get so excited.

I am trying to remain calm and trying to remain cautiously optimistic. So far, I have surprised myself my opening my heart again. That worries me a bit but I am so glad to be hopeful. Please universe, make this baby stay. I have no idea when we'll share the news.

Pregnant Again

2011-12-03T21:33:00.000-08:00

Peed on a stick this morning and there were two lines. This is already different from last time. Last time, I had gentle cramps and once got sick. This time, I've puked my guts out already. Not even one day of happily pregnant. I am in full-force vomit mode.

Thrilled. (except the puking).

Planning a next step

2011-11-27T17:51:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday night and I am stuffed full of pizza. We had friends over to watch the Bears lose. The game was disappointing.

Now that I've been at the new job for three weeks, I am feeling more settled. I like the people pretty well. I can see that I may get bored sometimes but I am usually busy enough. I can also feel that my internal dialogue will be getting back to normal soon. I am once again sad and weepy about not 18 months of trying and no baby. I shouldn't compare myself to others but I do. I really shouldn't read internet message boards about parenting. "95% of healthy couples will get pregnant in a year." Well, that means we've won the shit lottery or we're unhealthy. I hate either option.

I think that once the holidays are over, it's time to go to a reproductive doctor. I have the referral from April somewhere. I could call and get another if need be. I expect my period in about a week. After that, I need to discuss with Billy and give the Month of December our very best shot with timing and such. For my 31st birthday in January, I want to be pregnant or have a plan about how to get there. The normal people way of just having sex and waiting hasn't worked for us.

Thankful

2011-11-24T19:19:00.001-08:00

It's turkey Thursday and we have come back from Mom's place in the woods. Dad joined us for dinner and Pat. Amanda, Carmelo and the kids came. It was really nice. Billy even had a good time.

Amanda brought with her four tiny grey kittens from her in-laws' place. The neighbor cat had a litter of eight kitties! Mom was planning to take two and Ingrid got two. Well, Dad ended up taking home Mom's kittens. It's for the best really. He's been lonely since Bosco and Liver died. He needs some house cats.

I have come full circle and I am so thankful for the shitty year. It's over and I can tuck it in and put it to bed. No more 2011 ever. I'll never take for granted the things I have enjoyed. I have a loving family. I want it to grow but I cannot control how it grows and when and where. I can only try and keep smiling. People kill for what I have. Billy worships the ground I walk on and he brings me coffee in bed and never mentions my chub. He works hard for us and wants to be with me. I have a home that is made of lovely reddish bricks and it keeps me and my animals warm and safe. I have never gone hungry and I have medical coverage. I am as privileged as any human could ever dare to dream.

I am called aunt, sister, wife, daughter, friend. Thank you universe. I accept what is coming anyway. I will try to be like water and flow. I will try to be like metal and toughen with blows. I will try to be like a feather and fly where the winds will take me. I will try to be loyal and give. I will try to be deserving of the blessings I have received. Thank you.

Big Sweeping Changes Again

2011-11-13T15:25:00.001-08:00

It's November now and the wind is loud. The weather is really mild and nearly 70 degrees in the sunshine. The tree out front has only a few yellow leaves on the bottom branches. When I found out I was pregnant this summer, I anticipated a baby bump for fall. I had a shopping cart full of maternity clothes with cute shawl collars and cardigans.

It sounds so melodramatic typed out like this but in real life I am not melodramatic. Days go by without thoughts of the miscarriage. So last week on a lark I went to the pregnancy message board I had joined for February 2012 babies. I was shocked to find women in their third trimester! Some women had already given birth. Granted they were super preemies but it blew me away. I hadn't done the math. In my mind, I had been not pregnant for a "little while." It was months.

As the non-pregnancy time passed, it became more an more apparent that I needed to make a change. I had decided to stay at the wine store until I had a baby. I made the decision over a year ago and here I am, no baby coming and who knows how long it could be. I wasn't happy in that job for a while. The commute killed me and I began to dread the holiday season.

Through some sort of crazy luck, I got three job interviews within two weeks. I got offered a job working in the wine department of a new grocery store (I passed) and I got offered the job of working the front desk at a rehab center for handicapped children and adults. I took it.

So tomorrow, I will begin my new job. It's five miles away and pays not much. I will see kids every day. I am excited.

2011 will be remembered as a difficult year. I want to close the chapter and start something fresh.

Job Interview

2011-10-14T18:15:00.001-07:00

So, I got a call about a job interview this morning. The pay is crap but the job sounds good. It's close to home. Hot dog, I'm gonna check it out.

Bill will have his big raise this winter. At that point I can do pretty much whatever as long as I bring in $20K or more to cover little extras. I am worried because I know this job pays $12 per hour. I am salaried now at 47K. That's a huge pay cut. Am I an idiot to consider it? Maybe. but I am still going to the interview.

I made a decision to live for me, for my life and for the reality that is right now. A new job would be great for me. I am so tired of my grind right now. I want out of the weird unhealthy tensions that exist at my workplace. The big boss has decided to have an affair out in the open. It's quote uncomfortable to work with his wife now. I am just sick of the drive and the hours. I need out.

I am going to apply to lots of other jobs this weekend. It's liberating. Sprinkling resumes everywhere. No more, "What if I get pregnant?!" Maybe I will and maybe I won't. I put the breaks on my life for a year and a half and all I got was one lousy miscarriage. I need to live again and hope for good news down the line.

Wish me luck Monday morning!

Crying in the Shower

2011-10-13T06:54:00.000-07:00

Crying in the shower can be terrible or it can be liberating. I am trying to focus on liberation and slough off some layers I don't need. I have layers of regret and layers of jealously (huge, puffy swaths of jealously that have wrapped and wrapped around my body). I have layers of nostalgia that haunt me and won't let anything else measure up. I have layers of preoccupation that blind me from the good of the present.

I can only live now. I can only live as I do. I can change my life with choices and action but I cannot change it with obsession or regret.

I may always be a chubby and infertile woman who wants so badly to be a pretty mom. I may always be middle class and vacation by car. I may always shop at the discount store. I may cry in the shower on the first day of my period every time until menopause. I can handle that. I need to quit imagining another woman's future and imagine and seek my own.

Air Conditioning Broken

2011-08-18T06:11:00.000-07:00

Luckily it's just the upstairs window unit. Unfortunately, it's the only thing cooling the bedroom. After a few days (three?) of no AC at night, I have learned that I sleep like a rock in the hot air. I am so rested. My skin has broken out in tiny whiteheads all over my chin. I smell bad every morning, as if I went running in my sleep.

The windows are open and the whole world makes more noise. Louise next door is doing music lessons. I can hear it now, clarinet, tuba and flute in half hour doses. Today is garbage day and I can hear the truck.

I am so glad we got a cool streak for August. It's in the seventies and nicely cool all morning.

Ingrid Day

2011-08-16T16:41:00.001-07:00

Tired all over again. I slept until almost 9:00! It was amazing.

Today was the third week of Ingrid days. I have been taking off Tuesdays to help out Amanda and give her an opportunity to go to the hospital. Ares is in the NICU and just graduated to an open crib! He's bigger than his birth weight now - over three pounds. His skin isn't hot red at every moment but stills gets red when he cries. He's wearing preemie clothes now, little t-shirts! He just needs to learn to eat from a bottle and pass the 35 week mark. I'm getting excited and I cannot imagine how excited Amanda must be.

So Ingrid and I went to the local Children's Museum today. I love that Ingrid calls my tiny hatchback a van. She thinks the shape dictates the name of the vehicle. We only had to stop once one the one mile drive over. Once we got there, we played for almost three hours. She played with one stuffed animal for two of those hours. It was exhausting. Of course she wants me to play with her and I don't want to act like the bored coffee-drinking moms who refuse to look up to see if their kid is kidnapped or anything. I'll wait until I have a kid to do that. Two hours discussing a stuffed ferret (or weasel as she called it) was quite a lot.

Then we went to Portillo's for some gourmet lunching. I learned that dining alone with a kid means that lunch ends when the kid needs to poop, whether you finished that delicious salad or not. So, I dumped half a salad and spent ten minutes in the bathroom, telling "jokes" to the stall door.

These are the types of jokes Ingrid loves: What does a cat put in his drink to keep it cold? Mice cubes.

She branched out into telling the joke about a horse (hay cubes).

I got a good laugh from What is brown and sticky? (a stick).

I just melt when she reaches her little hand up into mine when we walk through a parking lot or climb into a road. I fucking love that kid, poop and all.

With Ingrid

2011-08-09T15:43:00.000-07:00

Today was another day with Ingrid. I am really enjoying my time with her. Mom, on the other hand, is having a breakdown these days. She can't quite seem to process her feelings and she's lashing out. Amanda is very frustrated with dear ole Mom. Mom is retaliating by being snide.

We played in the park and went to McDonald's playland. McDonald's playland is never just McDonald's lest you mistakenly believe it's a place to eat food. No. McDonald's playland is the most sacred and fun place that Mom never wants to go. It's a special event or manipulated auntie kind place.

Ingrid is wearing a hideous hairband made of fake neon pink hair that has multicolored braid tassels. It's the ugliest thing from the dollar store, so she loves it. It's adorable in her long, black waves.

I hate to focus on looks but she's an exceptionally beautiful child. She's getting prettier too.

Fairness

2011-08-06T15:44:00.000-07:00

In the past few months, I have read lots of pregnancy blogs, infertility blogs and message boards. I read one message board pretty often but post very little. This message board is like the train wreck person I love to have on facebook. It draws me in out of horror.

Trying to Conceive boards tend to be very, very judgmental. I say this having read many of them. I have never found a TTC board, as they're called by those in the know, that didn't have it's policing regulars and scathing comments.

For the uninitiated, here's a handy dandy cheat sheet.

The following things are OK to say or discuss:

Being sad, angry or jealous about the pregnancies of others.
Expecting the world to pull you aside to announce pregnancies to spare your feelings.
Expecting your pregnant friends to never gripe or complain out of respect for your infertility/non-pregnancy.
Crying all the fucking time.
Crying about baby showers, facebook feeds or holidays.
Describing your mucus discharges at length.
Saying that you will never, ever, ever complain when you get pregnant because you'll understand and appreciate the miracle of it all.
Asking other people how they deal with the agony of not being pregnant.
Creating a hierarchy of how sad anyone else is allowed to be. For example, women who already have a child should be grateful. Women who have has a miscarriage "at least" know they can get pregnant.

Then the following are not OK and will get the poster smacked down immediately:

Calling anyone bitter - ever.
Not taking your basal body temperature daily. That's a huge one. It's funny because my doctor tells me ovulation predictors (which is what I use. I don't feel like graphing, thanks) are more accurate.
Not believing that TCOYF (Taking Charge of Your Fertility) is the Bible.
Disagreeing with the leaders of the pack about anything.
Fishing for others to guess that you might be pregnant. People do this one all the time and it is insane. "Oh, my boobs hurt so much and my sense of smell is so strong. I wonder if I'm getting sick? Oh, and my period is eight minutes late....ahem!"
Wishing ill on all the pregnant friends you currently hate who aren't even allowed to talk to you lest they wake the beast within. It's a fine line with that one.
Expressing any interest in a child of a particular sex or hoping for a baby born at a certain time. That will get you ten instant replies along the lines of, "Oh yeah, well all I want is a healthy baby whenever God/nature wills it!" Implication: I am a better person/parent than you.
Being worried too soon. Too soon is defined as one month less than you've been trying. Every poster is a special snowflake who is allowed to spread her own doom and gloom. While every poster other than one's self is a worrywart.

It's really fucking old. All the new people lamenting one period. All the old people who just lie in wait to snap at new folks for not knowing the rules. The lifers, who are infertile, are revered as gods. That sets up some fucked up dynamics. Everyone wants to pose as if they have conception troubles. To appear cool or in the know? I can't figure it out.

Today might be the last straw. I read a post that linked to a woman's blog entry about the ways in which you're ALLOWED to tell other couples you're pregnant. If, God forbid, any of those other couples have fertility issues, you must tell them privately and practically apologize to them for your great joy. You must offer to never ever ever bitch and moan and be ready for them to not be happy for you. This blog post was longer and used more flowery language but that was the gist. In a situation where one couple is pregnant and another couple isn't, the pregnant couple must defer to the non-pregnant just in case it causes heartache or jealousy. Seriously, what the fuck?

These women work themselves into a fucking froth pretending to be infertile just to get a rise out of themselves. They feed each other's fears and horrors like kids at a slumber party until all reason is gone.

I wish they would quit counting everything and deciding what's fair and unfair. I wish they would quit weighing how sad someone else is allowed to be after how many months of trying versus their advanced age and factoring in their medical history.

I know my sister isn't going to be telling other mothers of twins that they aren't allowed to mention both kids. I know I am not going to forbid anyone else from having a baby in February. The world keeps moving whether or not we try and set rules about fairness.

Saying Goodbye

2011-07-28T19:33:00.000-07:00

Today was Enzo's last day. It was officially diagnosed yesterday afternoon. He was born without kidneys and could not survive more than a few more days. Amanda and Carmelo were given the option to try dialysis but no baby with his condition has ever lived more than a few weeks. They had to make the call and stop treatment.

This morning my Mom and I scrubbed in at the NICU to carry my four-year-old niece, Ingrid, into a room for the one and only family photo my sister will ever get. Of course, she had to go potty just as the staff was gathering the photographer and the babies. I sat in a bathroom with her. Her fancy picture dress spilled out around the toilet. She was wearing pink Converse and her hair was messy. She wouldn't let us brush it. We played "I Spy" and talked about her stuffed cat, Millie. I remember looking into the mirror and thinking, "This is it. It's Enzo's last minutes and I am playing word games in a bathroom with a stuffed cat."

They instructed us to put Ingrid in a gown and a mask. She's four and normally defiant when told that she has to do anything. She must have understood it was a a big deal today. Her mom and dad had already explained that one baby was so sick he would never come home. She did whatever we asked. In the NICU, we used box of copy paper to act as a stool. She scrubbed in at the big foot pedaled sink. She had her own soap pack and soaped up to her elbows just like the grownups.

We all met in a special room where a photographer took pictures of the family and the babies. Ares was healthy enough to spend a few minutes in the room. He was such a contrast to Enzo. Ares was pink, almost red in color. He cried and cried but was quiet while his mama held him. He moved. He was feisty.

Sick Enzo was larger than healthy Ares. I kept forgetting that Enzo was baby A, born first and a few ounces larger. Enzo had been sedated. His mask had pressed his lip crooked. His head had a flat back. He was bloated with the fluid and waste his body couldn't excrete. He was pale and yellowish. He looked soft, like skin that has gone pruney in a long bath. He was still beautiful to look at - tiny and perfectly formed.

My sister got to hold her first born son just once while he was alive. He took a few loud breaths in that room and that left me sobbing even more. Mom and I were useless for a few hours. We stood in the corner, flowing with tears and boogers.

Ingrid, Grandma Katherine (mom)and I left the room to spent some time with the children's grief counselor as Amanda and Carmelo held dying Enzo. The counselor gave Ingrid a book about expecting a new baby and getting an angel instead. Mom (Grandma) read it to her. She drew pictures and colored. She talked to the counselor and begged for McDonalds. She giggled and expressed interest in the baby angel in the book. We talked about Enzo watching over her.

Later, after he was pronounced dead, I held his body and he was so incredibly beautiful. The wonderful NICU nurses pulled three rocking chairs around his bed. Amanda, my mom and I rocked him and passed his tiny body around. He was only three pounds but he was soft, warm and so perfect to look at. He had so much dark hair. Just like Ingrid did at birth, he had furry patches on his face. His fingers were puffed up, but they were tiny and looked just right. I held his hand. I sang to him.

Later, after his body was taken away, we stood around Ares' bed and talked. I am so sad but hopeful for little survivor Ares Enzo (who was given his brother's name for a middle name) who is eating, pooping and breathing on his own at just over 3lbs.

I have never felt such raw pain, not even close. I would give anything to change this and my heart weeps for my baby sister whose pain I cannot imagine.

Heartache Keeps Coming

2011-07-27T19:43:00.000-07:00

Monday was a magical day for our family. My sister Amanda gave birth to her twin sons. We had remarked all along that it was a miracle that she would have spontaneous twins. Amanda has wanted to be a Mom all her life. I was delighted that she was pregnant again and squealed when I learned it was twins. She deserved twins. She loves babies to pieces.

Her pregnancy was tough. She had a preemie once before and these twins shared a placenta. They were very high risk. She had up to three doctor's appointments a week. She had weekly ultrasounds in her final weeks.

She began dilating early and needed medication to stop labor. She was in the hospital at 29 weeks. They boys had medicines to mature their lungs and prevent brain bleeds. She got released and went right back in to deliver a day later. On Monday, July 25 just after 7:00 am, she delivered two boys, three pounds each at 30 weeks.

My family drove to the hospital and rejoiced together. They seemed just fine. They would need to stay in the NICU for a while. They were so early that no names had been chosen. The hospital room chat was about names and gossip and breast feeding - happy new baby topics. We were so happy. My sister asked that we wait to meet the babies in the NICU. She couldn't get out of bed for 12 hours after her c-section and wanted to be the second person to meet them. Her husband, Carmelo went to meet them and brought us video of the boys. Other than the tubes and wires, they looked perfect. We were happy with that. We'd have their whole lives to hold them and love them.

The first sign of trouble was that afternoon. A doctor arrived in Amanda's room with a release form. He was very blunt; Baby A was doing poorly. One of his lungs had collapsed and his lungs weren't functioning correctly. He needed a blood transfusion immediately. He has two chest tubes and a machine breathed for him. The doctor told my sister that he was very sick but should survive.

The next day was worse. By now, the babies had names. Sick baby, Enzo, was not any better. He survived the transfusion but was declining. The other baby, Ares, was healthy and thriving. He could breathe on his own. The doctors came up with a theory that fit his problems. Enzo, they feared, had no kidneys. They performed an ultrasound and couldn't find them.

Having no kidneys at birth is called Potter's syndrome. If you google it, it's unbelievably sad. Potter's syndrome babies have no amniotic fluid. This causes all sorts of problems and they die before or just after birth. Their bodies are mangled without the cushion of fluid.

Enzo didn't have that. He didn't seem to fit the pattern and didn't have the visual symptoms, so we held out hope for another doctor to find kidneys in his body and somehow explain his problems. He had less fluid than his brother but still plenty. He wasn't mangled.

This morning was Thursday. Another doctor tested the babies. Enzo has no kidneys. His diagnoses is fatal. His twin, Ares, has only one kidney. Somehow Ares pumped enough amniotic fluid for two babies with only one kidney. He supported Enzo and let him grow. Because of this, Enzo might be one of the healthiest Potter's syndrome babies ever. His doctors have offered Amanda and Carmelo the option of keeping him on dialysis. If he lived a year and a half, they would put him on the organ donor list. He would be terribly sick the whole time. In fact, his nurses winced when they heard this option. Everyone recommended against it and said he would most likely die anyway and suffer.

It was an easy but horrible decision. Tomorrow, they will gather their four year old daughter and their twins. They will unhook Enzo and hold him for the very first and only time.

I cannot imagine the pain they are going through. A month ago, we were marveling at the idea of two babies. Where would she put them? What would she do? Now, we are mourning. My baby sister is so strong but I wish I could steal this pain from her. I wish I could go back to the dozens of ultrasounds and shake the doctors, "Why don't you see this? He was no kidneys! Prepare her now!! Why does she have to find out at birth? Why does she have to meet her son and believe he will live?"

I met my nephew Enzo today. I opened the door to his little pod and I told him I would always love him. I think a sang a little song.

The Naked Texter

2011-07-22T20:21:00.001-07:00

So, I read The Gift of Fear. I believe that you should not engage with craziness. I believe that attention seekers and drama queens will quickly learn to move along if you don't give them the attention they want. On a normal day at least.

The day of the naked texts was not normal. It was the second day of bleeding. The day the doctor's office was to have blood result that would show if I could possibly still be pregnant. I was a wreck of boogers and tears.

That was the state in which I discovered a new text message on my phone. It was from a local number that I didn't know. I opened it to find five photos of good old fashioned home porn. Some guy naked, then naked reclining on a couch, then close up on the junk, then seated, then fully clothed and standing by a grill (wtf?).

My mental state was fragile and I did not recognize this person but I was pissed. I sent back a short reply calling him a fucking asshole. He wrote back, "Who is this?"

Shouldn't you know who you are texting? Maybe double check the number? These were the things I thought to myself but didn't type. I realized that engaging this genius in a conversation was a bad idea so I didn't reply. That night I missed a call from the same number.

I tried to think like the caller/texter. Obviously, he did not intend to send those pictures to me. He probably got my nasty reply and then wondered if he dialed correctly, so he called and hung up when my voice kicked in on the message. I felt assured that I had figured it out. Now he had figured out it wasn't me he was looking for and would never call again. He was probably so embarrassed. At least that's what I thought.

Two weeks have passed and he called my phone tonight. No message left. That bothers me. A lot.

Officially Over

2011-07-09T07:53:00.000-07:00

I got the news that my hormones had gone down. I have miscarried or a I am, semantics. I have handled this final news really well so far. I think that it's because I accepted it as fact a few days ago. I knew before the tests told me just like I knew before I looked at the pregnancy test. Pregnancy is a whole lot of hormones to not notice. When they leave, you notice that too. Oh, and the blood. That's pretty obvious.

So, my boobs don't hurt. My upper abdomen isn't sticking out with bloat. I can enjoy this third cup of coffee and pretend I enjoyed the vodka I drank last night. It's still very hard.

I haven't really gotten to the "what do I do now?" part. I know that I go to work on Monday. I know that I delete the pregnancy email updates and the bag of thankfully unpurchased maternity clothes.

Then on Tuesday, what do I do then?

And poor Bill. He's just heart broken and not letting it show. I can see it in him and I wish he'd cry and let it out. I wish he'd show the reaction I got when I told him we were pregnant. I know he needs to release it.

That's not my place. I ask but I don't pry. I share and then smile to let him know he can share. He'll open up eventually. I've seen it happen.

Hours after shrugging a reply, lying in bed, he will say in the softest voice, "Remember what you asked me today?" and then he'll keep going.

I always turn to face him and watch his profile in the darkness. His eyelashes flutter and he puts together his words and I remain quiet. He will talk until he stops and then we'll both go to sleep.

I dislike the phrase "man of few words." It seems so cowboy or savant. "He's not stupid, he's just quiet." I sometimes forget that Bill doesn't talk much unless he's around friends. He's a quiet worker. He waves to neighbors. Most people like him but few know too much about him. Even quiet, everyone can tell he's sharp. He's smarter than most people I know.

He's had so much piled on him and he turned out loving, kind and thoughtful. His mother abandoned him long before she physically slipped off and left him with his grandparents. Of course she waited long enough to marry a guy who beat the kids for a while.

His father was gone before he remembers. It was the bad kind of gone too, on the streets drinking. His dad turned 18 in Vietnam and had two kids in the suburbs before 24. Bill never saw him after his early childhood. We now know that he died a few months before we looked for him. Lung cancer, VA hospital.

Instead of being hardened, Bill has become the hardest-working and most dedicated man I have known. He can't wait to right the wrongs of his childhood but his desires have no hint of bitterness. He doesn't care to show anyone or prove anything. He just wants to settle into the type of happiness he's never known before. He wants a baby as much or more than I do.

I know that it isn't my fault but my heart aches that I haven't been able to give him what he wants. I grieve the loss and feel a sense of failure. This is the gift I have wanted to offer him for so long. I want to do this with him and watch him meet our child.

I know this isn't the end. We will be parents. It may take more time. It may take adoption or medicine but we will get there. He's too good of a man not to be a father.

miscarriage

2011-07-05T17:25:00.001-07:00

Well this is terrible. Mom called it death by a thousand paper cuts.

We were pregnant and thrilled. Then I bled just a little bit and then I bled more. Then I went to the hospital.

Never have a problem the day before a holiday weekend. You'll end up like me, four days later and just getting test results. This is my summer vacation. No work July 2 through 10. I had plans to baby shop and go to the beach.

I spent the 4th of July bleeding into a maxi pad and forcing myself to be ready for the bad news. I called my insurance company and the hospital and got answering machines all weekend. I spent this afternoon getting another ultrasound that shows no baby. No fetus. No heartbeat. The tech kept asking if a "felt OK." Are you kidding me, lady? I am grieving the loss of a baby that never existed. I don't care if you poke me through the organs with that stupid wand. Find out what is happening. I can pee later. You can touch my thigh. This moment is the very least of my worries. I tell the receptionist I'll take any appointment, "I'm on vacation." That's a cruel reality.

I never knew how long days could be when the lab is closed and the ER doctor said the horrible words, "fifty-fifty." What the fuck is fifty-fifty? I wish they had said, "Your pregnancy is certainly over. I am very sorry." Classic under promise, over deliver. My doctor's nurse scheduled an appointment for Thursday to do final tests and decide what to do next. She doesn't sound optimistic. So, that's a full week to diagnose a miscarriage.

This is the worst vacation ever.

Pizza Night

2010-06-04T19:09:00.000-07:00

No recipe today. Bill ordered pizza and I ate it with a salad of torn, slightly less crisp than desirable iceburg lettuce. How depressing. It still tasted good. Like a cafeteria meal. He is downstairs screaming at the Blackhawks game. It doesn't sound too good.

Work has slowed down to the turtle pace of summer. I blatently web surf, jump for the phone and annoy the male co-workers by chatting. Ah, summer.

Many moons have passed

2010-06-03T18:12:00.000-07:00

Oh, jeez. I really wish I actually updated this blog. I don't think anyone else reads it and I'm perfectly OK with that. I prefer it. I just really wish I could look back at the last few months and remember:

*Bill proposing in the kitchen on Halloween. He was in costume and had eye makeup and looked hilarious. I found the ring in a box of chocolates on the counter and said, "What's that?" like an idiot. It was my first response. It felt so good to get engaged. I wish I had written down more details. I know we danced in the living room. We called everyone that night. We drank the Champagne I saved and moved to the new house for that occasion. We ate leftover Chinese once we realized we still had not eaten late that night.

*Adopting Nina the wiggle-butt. Kobi needed a sister and when I saw her picture on petfinder, I was smitten. It took two cars and four people to road trip to nowhere Indiana to pick her up. She is worth it. She jumps up on people. She tore into the garbage many times. She once ate a pound of chocolate and we had to induce vomiting at 6am to save her life. Still, she's awesome. Sweet, submissive and loving. She is a true doggie and a kind soul.

*Getting married in the spring. It was so much fun. We had 100 people and I wore a white dress and I did all these things I never planned to do. Bill and I cried and laughed and kissed a million times. I got drunk on Gin and Tonics and when they played Bright Eyes First day of My life, I realized it was the last song. Our wedding nightmares were minor and the party was fantastic.

So here I am, many months after updating, a married lady. I changed my name at the social security office today. I get me new card in however many business days. I have never once doubted that marrying Bill is the right thing and the best thing for me. I have always known how lucky we are to have the love we have. It still comes as a shock to the system that my own name is going away. I chose to change my name without any real pressure. I could keep it, I know. I wanted to take his name. My own name is gone. Only my sister and I shared it. She has long changed hers. It wasn't a family name. It was the name of one generation only. We have bothe kept it's melodic hyphenated glory as our legal middle name. The SSA teller actually smirked at me and asked, "You sure? You want all three last names?"

"Well, it's a middle name, actually. Just one last name," I smiled and the smile wasn't fake.

It's my day off. Any bleach blonde bitch in khakis and a polo who wants to judge me can feel free. I'm happy in my choice. I am a Mrs. now.

Next big adventure? Let's try and make a baby.

Zucchini Fritters

2009-08-13T18:13:00.000-07:00

This isn't even an original but it's awesome. We came home from Target today and found that someone (hmmmm could it be the grandparents 9 blocks away?)had left us a zucchini in the mailbox. This is not a grocery store type of zucchini. It was a monster. Wrapped in a plastic newspaper bag, it pretty much filled the thing. It was a couple ounces shy of a new born baby.

Being grocer-arily challenged today, I mentally thanked Grams and Pop rather than cursing them and I began to hack away at the squash. This thing had seeds and spongy interior that would would frighten most people. I had to use leverage to cut it with my biggest knife. I finally quartered and deseeded it. That left me with four "zucchini" sized flanks once I tossed the yucky bits.

Zucchini Fritters, cheater style

Grate a shitload of zucchinis on the large side of a box grater. Maybe three or four "traditional" sized zucchinis.

Toss the grated zucchini with a teaspoon of salt. Place it in a colander. Weight it and let it drain for at least 20 minutes.

Turn the oven on to 225 degrees.

Put a heavy (cast iron) skillet on medium/medium low heat.

In a large bowl, beat an egg. Grate or mince a large clove of garlic and whisk in.
Mince some fresh herbs (just a tablespoon or so). I used basil and chives and it was delicious. I think a teaspoon of dried herbs would be good too.

Whisk with the egg. Add the drained zucchini and fluff everything with a fork.

(cheater alert) Grab a box of Bisquick and add at least a half cup. Keep fluffing with a fork and sprinkling Bisquick until a thick batter is formed. I had a tiny bit of feta left over, so I added that as well. It should be somewhere between a bread dough and a batter (like toothpaste with leavening?)

Add oil to the heated skillet and make fritters with two spoonfuls of the batter. Spread them just a bit and let them cook a few minutes. Mine took about 8 minutes per side. I didn't time them. I just watched crappy TLC TV and flipped them when I smelled the browning (for I am a dinner whisperer!)

Put the cooked ones on a cookie sheet in the oven. Add more oil if and when necessary.

Start heating up some marinara sauce for dipping.

Serve with Marinara. Eat loudly and with slurping noises.

Follow the Yellow Brick Raod

2009-08-13T16:44:00.000-07:00

I am no closer to a career path, a dream or a 'calling' than I was last year at this time. It's been a year in wine sales, a full year with a holiday season and a summer lull. It is just fine and also way too far away. I can't deal with the commute too much longer but I bristle at the thought of job searching yet again. Searching for what? A messiah job? A blessing that falls in my lap in a terrible economy? Really? Maybe I should just spend my paycheck on lottery tickets.

I am beginning to feel like an asshole and a job hopper. My heart isn't in it. My ass is sore from commuting and my mind is undernourished. Fuck. I really wish I could make someone else choose my job for me. Whenever I try, they inevitably ask me questions, as if I haven't thought about it before.

New dream gigs:

hand painting furniture for rich people's kids
cooking great veggie food for money
teaching people how to use tofu
helping kids make art

hmmmm....I don't sense a million dollar idea yet.

There are no second chances

2009-08-05T16:37:00.000-07:00

Strange and random memory got me thinking about somebody today.

I have one friend with whom I went on a date in college. We had a ton of chemistry. Our date was great and fun and giggle filled. He walked me home (college, ah) and we stood looking into each others eyes for a few solid seconds. I broke eye contact first and kissed his cheek or hugged him or something - to this day I don't know why. I definately smelled what he was cooking, but I think I knew if I kissed him, we'd be an instant couple. For a couple years after that we would almost get together, or get drunk and make out. There was a summer where he got back at me by leading me on for a few weeks. We were never single or interested at the same time after that. Now, we keep in touch as old buddies and we're each in other relationships. I strongly suspect that had we kissed that night, my life would have been totally different, at least through college and if I'm being honest, for good. I felt in that moment that I could either jump in, be with this guy and end up married to him, playing tennis and driving a Lexus or I could not.

I'm so glad I chose not to but I really wish there were movie scenarios in real life and I could just peek at what would have happened had I chosen differently. Even if it would just show us breaking up a few weeks later or something. I really suspect that's not the case.

I guess I'm just thinking about how thankful I am that it's Bill whose my fate, my luck of the draw or my assigned partner from whomever is behind the curtain doing the picking. It's a fragile path that could have veered at almost any moment. I could be in Singapore, Little Rock, my hometown.

Drunk? maybe, Nostalgic? yes, Happy? I am

2009-08-01T19:43:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago I moved to Chicago from my college apartment and I hated it. I was miserable and I never wanted to stay. I was also unemployed and a loser living in my Mom's new apartment. My options were few. My college boyfriend had talked of heading west to Portland. My best bud and I talked about going to California where you could teach with just a bachelor's degree. These ideas amounted to nothing and I continued to sleep in the corner of Mom's loft in the west loop. Boyfriend faded away and friend moved to Iowa (IOWA, the hell?) for a job. I eventually got a job too, then another. I moved to Logan Square and then Lakeview. I had a roommate. I lived alone. I painted some nice pictures and made a few new friends. Mostly, I remained tightly bonded to my college friends and spent hours on the phone with them. I walked around ethnic neighborhoods and bought interesting spices, incense and crappy shit to tack on my walls. I dated a few dorks. I had a few nice dates thrown in the mix. I walked over the river under stars. I rode the train with a cute guy. I went to Cubs games. I fell in love with restaurants, some fancy and some simple. I became a regular at a bar. Tourists began asking me for directions, imagine that! Even stranger, I knew the directions. I fell in love with a man. I began to sigh as I walked around the pretty parts of the city. The river smelled of sewage and promise. The beaches shined with glass shards and happiness. I defended the corruption and ten percent sales tax to naysayers. I thanked God that I didn't live in my hometown. I fell in love with Chicago but it was not romantic love. It was familial. Chicago will never be my lover. It will always be my big brother. It sheltered and defended me until I was a woman. Now, I am too big to share its quarters. I cannot handle the thin walls of apartments and the smells on the bus. I needed, so desperately, to find a little solace of a home.

I have not typed much of anything, besides work stuff, in a long while. I am typing from my new house, from the computer room, from the suburbs. I love my new house. LOVE IT. I am here with my real love, Bill, our new love, Kobi and my things. Kobi is the best part of having a yard. He is a wiggling 95 pound mass of love and sneezes.

Much of the crap that was once tacked on carriage house apartment walls is here. There is a world map in the guest room. A lovely screen print that my friend Jesse gave me almost a decade ago. My college sheets wait, folded, for guests to come and visit. I am trying to add the new stuff sparingly, so I don't end up with Pottery Barn decor. I have arrived at adulthood and am no longer dragging my feet.

Time is a bitch

2009-04-05T19:47:00.000-07:00

Just four days until we close on the house. Just four days until we write a check for 24,000 dollars. Holy crap is that a lot of money. I feel so young but when I look at my hands, they are move crevassed than ever. I am not a girl, or an adolescent or a young lady any more. I cannot smirk about the fact that I support myself. I am no longer the youngest one at work. I am just a regular grown up now. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Enjoy my never flat belly and boobs that droop? Wonder if I'll ever look in the mirror again and think, "Not bad!" I see why men buy toupees and sports cars. It's fucking scary to know that you can't fall back on your cuteness anymore.

Now, I'll live in the burbs. I joked to Bill that we needed to leave the city and find a town where I'm still young and thin. Now I worry that I'm just the annoying woman making a scene in the corner and swearing that a man once told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn't believe she was 35, flat out did not believe her! Please, God, don't make me that woman. Not at 28. Please wait a few decades if that is my ultimate fate. Also, no minivans.

Bored

2009-03-31T20:27:00.000-07:00

I almost always like my alone time but tonight I feel lonely. I had a long day and skipped yoga when I couldn't get out of work in time. I guess I just need a little mental rest. That's not coming soon with a move in two weeks. FUCK it is scary.

I wish I could play and write music. I think I should learn the guitar. Then I could write songs that make boys want to hang with me. Or I could be the next Tori Amos or whatever and make girls want to hang with me. Yeah...I need to plan a bit more.

I wish I wrote things down more often

2009-03-21T18:08:00.000-07:00

I have not posted anything here in a while. We had a sea of weeks of househunting and we have an accepted bid on a bank owned forclosure. I will not break out the party until our inspection has taken place. It terrifies me as this house is sold AS IS.

The winter has melted into a true spring. I practically cried as I drove home in the light today. It was awesome.

Some bad things have happened too. Death has hit too close to home. It is terrible for my dear friend.

My mother is floundering, drinking herself silly and miserable. She needs her dogs back and her life to have a direction. I can't force her or even yell. Nothing helps but I hope she pulls herself together soon.

Other than that, I am trying to keep up with yoga at least weekly and continue to not bite my nails. That is enough for now.

Celery Root Soup

2009-02-11T19:23:00.000-08:00

So I bought my first celery root. Last week the run was shining and I had a craving for a celery root remoulade the likes of which I have not tasted since I traveled to France on a whim (can you imagine?) in 1999. I did not even know what it was when I ate it, bravely, at a train station restaurant across from my roommate. I loved it instantly. So, last week in 2009 (ten years - the circle of life - I'm fucking old) I am wandering at Whole Foods and I saw them and resolved to make my own celery root remoulade. But...after I got home I realized the only vinegar I have is sherry, balsamic or the stuff under the kitchen sink that's meant for cleaning. My poor root waited. Tonight, I knew I better get cooking if I wanted to actually use my produce. So, vegetarian celery root soup:

Chop and saute a medium onion in olive oil.
While it cooks, peel and dice one huge celery root, two small potatoes, one carrot and smash a couple cloves of garlic.
Pour a half cup of white wine onto the onions once they have a little color.
Add everyone to the pot
Pour on a few cups of vegetable broth, water and a cup of milk to cover the veggies by an inch. Add salt, a bay leaf and a small pinch of red pepper flakes. Bring to a boil.
Reduce the heat to a bare bubble and leave the kitchen for 45 minutes. When all the pieces are fork soft, turn off the heat and puree. I used an immersion blender with good success. I finished the soup with black pepper and nutmeg.

My bowl received a big pinch of Parmesan and a few drops of truffle oil. Who am I kidding? I ate three bowls plus crackers for dinner. It was good.

A Lull

2009-02-01T10:15:00.000-08:00

House hunting, house hunting and more house hunting. That's all I've been doing. I was very into it for a few weeks but then Billy picked up my slack. He's now the one pouring over the listings and running the mortgage calculations. I'm the one who is a little tired of spending our one day off driving around the burbs in our realtor's car. I can't imagine how she must want to throttle us. I wouldn't make it in real estate. I'd hit people like me who cannot make up their minds. So, 40+ houses into the search and we are looking at ONE house for a second time. Why, it's cheap and we both like it. I have no other hobbies and no other accomplishments to show for this winter. I am fat and have a cold sore. My hair has reached another awkward phase. That is my bitching for now.

In good news, I have hope for the spring. Stuff is melting around here and even though I know it will get colder, I think of next year when I will park in a garage and not in a neighborhood where people claim spaces they dig out with lawn furniture.

My boss is both driving me crazy and growing on me. I think I am starting to get him but I'm not sure. Something is off and I think he must have a slight drug problem. No one can work 80 hours a week and stay that chipper naturally. He has snapped at me a few times for no apparent reason. I don't want another passive aggressive boss. I sensed it during my interview but what could I do? I was jobless.

I have chosen to not give a shit about work outside of work. I will put in my time and work hard but I won't fret about upward mobility. This is a job and not a career. That's just fine.

That's why I haven't been writing I guess. I keep spinning options around my brain without getting answers. I need to worry less and drink less, clean more and be a better girlfriend. I am not putting in 50% these days. I think I will paint my fingernails today, read my tarot cards, clean a little and go shopping. That sounds like a nice plan. Superbowl is tonight and I'm hoping he will want to stay home intead of driving out to his buddies' place.

Lazy Single Person Dinner

2009-01-12T19:37:00.000-08:00

The world is out of soy. I ate it for dinner. Fake meat riblettes (yum) and edamame with soy sauce. All the soy, like I said. This is the type of dinner you eat when your other half is out of the house. You do not "cook" such a dinner. You microwave the riblette first and then decide you are still hungry a little later. That's known as 'decide between Cheerios and edamame time.' Then you groan at all the work of defrosting the edamame. Man, I have to drain off the water? AND add soy sauce? It's rough. But you suffer through it and make a pile of salty shells that overflows the computer desk. You lick salty drips off your wrist and read dumb websites. You disgust yourself when you almost choke on a particularly hair pod. After that is beer time. I don't know what time comes next but if I had to guess, I'd go with some form of dessert.

New Year with no plans

2008-12-31T17:05:00.000-08:00

Pizza is cooling and I have a glass of white wine. The young girls downstairs have people over and there are shoes piled on the landing but they're quiet so far. It is 7:00 pm, the time when I usually get out of work. It feels so much later!

We were invited to one party but it's on the other side of a city - 30 minute drive through drunk town, $40 cab or an hour long train ride. We decided to stay in. We have stayed in for the past four years and it is holding strong as our tradition! That pizza smells good. I need to go investigate.

2008-12-29T18:57:00.000-08:00

Still:
Fat
Bored
Undecided

No Closer to:
Inner Peace
Sainthood
sobriety

Feeling:
twitchy
tired
unmotivated

Wishing for:
drive
a tape worm
a windfall

Expecting:
the glass to remain at half
things to change but slowly
another mood swing any minute

Bitching and Moaning

2008-12-28T08:16:00.000-08:00

I am working up the energy to leave the house and do anything at all today. My sister has gone to visit my Mom and they invited me to drive down but they cannot understand that I can't just take off a few days with no notice. It always pisses me off a little. I like my life but I have always worked hard and had tough jobs. My sister has never worked much and has always had the luckiest jobs ever. She worked at a tiny deli in high school where the old lady owner would make her sandwiches and send her to watch soap operas in the back room. I worked at a deli in high school too. The managers told me I was old enough to work a meat slicer and how often to scrub out the bathrooms. Every so often, Mom and Sis casually mention we should all take a few days off next week. Wouldn't that be fun? It would be fun. It really would...but I have plans to sit at work and grind my teeth.

I am feeling the creepy crawlies again. W says of my relationship with this job, "It's nice but you aren't going to marry it." Maybe this job has begun leaving the bathroom door open. Some people find the right one right away. Some settle and accept a job for what it is. I can't. I've got to fight on and believe there is a job for me that I will like. I am not quite there yet. My business cards came in last week. The box was the size of a microwave. I saw all those cards and thought, "How in the hell am I going to pass all those out before I leave." That's when my brain knew I wasn't cut out to stay too long. Maybe a year? That's July. I don't want to run away blindly and if we buy a house, I can't. I am learning that it's just as hard to work for a small company. Sometimes I hate all four personalities.

What I would like:

Much less commute.
A fucking lunch hour. I haven't had an actual hour ever.
A set and unwavering schedule. No surprises. No events. No hosting parties after hours.
Boundaries! I would like to tell any asshole customer who asks me why I'm still wearing so many clothes exactly what I think of him. Next job will need to include less drinking.
A place to move up or a next step...plus an escape route.

2009 ~ resolutions are lame but goals are ok, right?

2008-12-23T18:43:00.000-08:00

Things to do in the new year, an incomplete an unstructured list.

Learn how to cook Indian food. Class? Good cookbook? I don't know yet.

Go back to improv class.

Lose, like, a million pounds and never drink on weeknights. (voted least likely to succeed)

Paint more often.

Spend time with the baby whenever I can.

Begin a garden.

Do something good for Mom.

Love Bill even more and show it.

Think some more about what I might love to do for a career.

Host a vegetarian cooking show.

Go sailing.

Pierogi

2008-12-21T18:37:00.000-08:00

My mother's mother was Polish and I think something very strong was carried on that DNA. Mom and I joke that it's a love of Brussels sprouts and cabbage, but I think there's an even deeper love of thrifty cooking. Today I worked on something I've tried before-delicious pierogies.

I had big plans to start and finish that teeny bit of Christmas shopping that requires leaving the computer. I really did. I started out well, but a negative wind chill and stinging cheeks defeated me once I walked to my favorite neighborhood boutique and found it closed. I wasn't about to go anywhere but home. I required a hot bath and that's exactly what I got.

I've made pierogies before and Bill loves them. They're a favorite childhood comfort food of his. They cost nothing per dozen and they occupy one's hands for hours. I always have on hand the dough ingredients except sour cream. Once I read that plain yogurt works just as well and I always have plain yogurt in the fridge. Every time, I google pierogi recipe to get the dough. You'd think I could write down, "5 cups flour, 2 eggs, 2 teaspoons salt, 4 tablespoons yogurt or sour cream and 1 cup water - mix and let rest one hour." As of yet, I cannot.

Pierogi fillings have always been dictated by what's in the house. I've never intentionally shopped for a filling. Like omelets or soup, dumplings seem designed to use up bits and pieces that wouldn't amount to anything without a new wrapper and some extra fried onion. Today, we had lots of material to work with; slowly aging new potatoes, drying chives, half a red cabbage, cheeses, beans, dried herbs and more. I developed three new fillings: sauerkraut-chard-and-cream, mashed potato-cheese and red cabbage-garlic. I resisted adding tofu to anything. By four o'clock I made almost one hundred little dumplings. Like last time, the first dozen were a little awkward and lumpy but once I hit my stride, I was rolling and filling like a pro.

My secret technique is that I hand roll each one. I take a jaw breaker sized bit of dough onto my floured counter and roll it into a stretchy little circle with my favorite rolling device, my tall double shot glass. I never use it to pour shots (who takes a shot at home? Wooo kitchen!) but it makes great pierogi skins.

I boil them for ten minutes and then saute in butter and fried onions. They are so good, so buttery, so caloric and so inexpensive. Extra yogurt and some applesauce makes a whole dinner. I feel like a thrifty pioneer when I look at my bags of frozen guys just waiting for a weeknight dinner. I wish I could slap a bow on one and give it to Bill's sister in law. I still need to go shopping for gifts.

Open Letter to the Douche Bags of America

2008-12-19T18:03:00.000-08:00

Dear Holiday Shopper,

Feel free to do your shopping whenever you want but if you want a retail employee to do your choosing for you and then expect them to make cards with personalized greetings and handle the shippping for you, do your damn shopping early. Oh, and adopting a snotty tone to inform said employee that there are a whole whopping five days until Christmas does not magically make our UPS guy get your package to the coast without you paying extra. Nor does it make me like you very much.

Merry Christmas!
Me

A Recipe for a Thursday Night

2008-12-18T19:25:00.000-08:00

I never manage to put up any recipes, so I thought I would try to document dinner. This is not special other than high fat content, but it was dinner tonight.

Start two pans: put a big skillet on a low flame and a large pan of water on a high flame. Tear up some lettuce and leave it to soak in a bowl of cold water, so all the grit can sink away. Melt a teaspoon of butter and a teaspoon of olive oil together in the skillet. Mince and a add a couple cloves of garlic. Chop up half a red bell pepper, a few cherry tomatoes and one regular can of artichoke hearts. Add those the the skillet and turn it to a medium flame. Suddenly decide to add some herbs de provence. Scoot the veggies to the sides to of a the skillet and put a big pinch of the herbs in a tiny bit of extra oil you pour into the center. Give it a minute then stir up everything. Once the water in the pot boils, add a HUGE pinch of salt and drop in some pasta. Boil until the pasta is one minute away from cooked. Drain lazily and dump into veggies in the skillet adding a good splash of cooking water along with the pasta. Throw on about a quarter cup of grated parmesan cheese. Toss. Find that leftover heavy cream in the fridge and add a few tablespoons (or however much a slow dribble around the pan amounts to). Turn off the burner and toss a couple times. Leave alone. Pull the lettuce from the water, don't dump the grit back onto the leaves. Spin in your small 'everyday' salad spinner (different from the big mama dinner party sized one you got the Christmas you learned not to ask for the same things from different people) Decide that since you already added the cream, you might as well do it right and loosen the now clumpy sauce with another dribble of cream. Go to town with the tongs one final time. Look at plain lettuce and decide that tonight, that's enough. It is fancy lettuce after all. Pull a dressing from the fridge door. Grab a few plates and serve. Yummy salad and pasta is quite successful. Boyfriends enjoy it too. Sit back and revel in your cleverness. Ignore the dirty skillet moping on the from burner. Pour a glass of wine and watch 30 Rock. Be fabulous.

Gluttony

2008-12-13T17:16:00.000-08:00

Oh my god, I am so lazy. I am sitting at my computer with my muscles aching from atrophy and eating a chocolate muffin instead of exercising. The muffin isn't even that good. And I'm drinking some Albarino. And I'm preheating the oven to make some fake chicken nuggets. And I don't care. Today, I will pop the buttons off my pants and roll my body to the toilet to pee if I have to. I cannot stop eating crap. I must stay sober enough to meet up with another couple for food and drinks in a few hours. Awesome.

Hormones

2008-12-11T19:02:00.000-08:00

Somewhere between insanity and boredom, there is a sweet spot where I like my job. I move around and get things done. I am busy and time passes easily. I finally get into a swing now.

After yesterday, where my hormones and one ill timed mistake made me psycho for an hour...and after two days of sickness before that, I was grateful for a day that was easy. I ended the day lining gift boxes with tissue paper. Three of us stood, working like elves and talking.

This month has been busy with news. So many couples have gotten engaged this month. I can think of five right now and there may be someone I'm forgetting. I have become jealous and my desire to someday be married has moved into a desire to get married already, jeez. I decided that I wasn't going to push my boyfriend a long time ago. I want both of us to be ready and want to get married. That doesn't mean that he doesn't know. I've told him I am ready but I don't want to constantly mention it like a couple women I know. Last week we celebrated our four year anniversary. I got a new camera...which I love. I really do and I really knew he wasn't going to propose. We've discussed money and we want to buy a house first. It's not like I was let down. I just felt like a girlie girl for the first time.

Holidailies Late

2008-12-07T13:08:00.000-08:00

December 7 ~ If you could change, undo or modify one decision in your past, which would it be and why?

I know this answer in an instant. The real answer. The big one. I would have never, ever, ever started smoking. I quit about a year ago and I am one of the converted. I can't stand cigarette smoke any more. So, I already changed that decision and for the purposes of this answer, it doesn't count.

I may be the only person I know who feels this way but I wish I hadn't waited so damn long to get out there, have sex, get my heart broken and all that crap. I guarded myself for years. I hated high school and there is not a single person I think I should have dated that I didn't. I also spent the first 3 and a half years of college celibate, bitter and barely dating. I wish I had a few more glory days stories. I wish I had the confidence I have now to say Fuck it and wear a bikini or ask him out. Even the mistakes. I wish I had those. I never had a one night stand. I don't have big regrets and I am glad I did it this way. I got everything I have now out of the deal. Still, if I travelled back in time to whisper something in my own ear it would be, "Lighten the hell up. Mom is right. You are beautiful and you can have whatever you want if you claim it. Don't wait. Don't wish. Don't pine. Claim it and it's yours."

I have to remember to whisper this in my own ear now. I am still so young after all.

Holidailies Late

2008-12-07T12:58:00.000-08:00

December 6 ~Your most vivid memory from last year's holiday season.

Wow. I am trying to pull up a vivid memory and so much is muted about last winter. Last year was a tough one. I was winding down and frustrated at my job. I was unsure and somewhat unhappy. I think I let a lot of the year pass in a blur. I decided to host a gathering in December. My good friend Rhi, my sister, her baby, my father and his girlfriend (the other baby)all came. It was my first meat free Christmas and I made a veggie lasagna. Dad's girlfriend, Cheryl, was annoying as ever in her special ditzy way. Rhi was staying here and met the baby for the first time. She was just learning to walk and wore a diaper around the overheated apartment. I had my first ever cold sore - so nasty. Everyone was chatting all afternoon and we ended up sitting on the floor talking, even though the couch was right there. That day was an eye in the storm. I relaxed and laughed. I felt the way the commercials tell us we are supposed to feel. In my messy apartment with the baby running around naked and a Hodge podge of guests, I felt the best I felt in a long time.

Holidailies Late

2008-12-07T12:39:00.001-08:00

December 5 ~ Introduce Yourself

It is perfect that I introduce myself two days late. I am not a procrastinator so much as I make sudden decisions to do things. It doesn't matter if the due date has passed or if I need to pull some strings to get in. I am a firm decision maker. Decisions don't come easily, but once they are made, they stick.

I am Charker. It sounds like a infomercial product but it's just a contraction of my many names. I picked it on a whim (theme developing) when I created my blog a few months ago. My friend, Tom, read something I wrote and said, "You're a good writer. You should start a blog." So I did. I haven't told anyone about it and probably no one reads it at all. I like that. I just write out whatever I want without any worry that someone I know is reading. That's why I am Charker. It is me, but unGoogleable.

I am almost twenty-eight. I work in a wine store because I gave up a corporatey sales position earlier this year. I am still unsure about how much I love my job but getting out of the other job was the best decision ever, so I am glad.

I have a boyfriend and he is wonderful. We have been dating for four years and we are looking at real estate in the suburbs. We are officially old now.

My biggest passion in life is food. I love to cook and read cook books and research anything about the history of food. (Did you know man has been eating food since the beginning of time? History of food always sounds funyy as if people just learned to shove crap in their mouths one day.) I absorb all that crap like a sponge. It is maybe odd that I gave up meat a couple years ago, so my food choices are more limited. I love not eating meat - feel better physically and ethically. I still pig out on seafood, so I would never call myself a vegetarian. I have a pet peeve about people who label themselves as veggie but eat seafood. A fish is equal to one animal just like a cow or a chicken. Don't get me started on those who don't eat red meat and think they have some special title... So, basically, I am passionate about food. This shows in my kitchen and on my ass; I am not so skinny at all. I am not super fat either. I am midwestern medium which is rural thin and coastal obese. I am trying to document more recipes to track my successes and failures. This proves difficult as most "recipes" would include directions like, "Cook over medium heat until its time to change the laundry. Look and see if you should add some more liquid. Pour in one coffee cup full of water. Look again. Walk away and let cook while you check email."

So, that's as much as you need to know about me to get started.

Planning Brunch

2008-12-05T18:48:00.000-08:00

I just opened a bottle of Mollydooker Goosebumps Sparkling Shiraz. I've been eyeing it since summer, wondering what sparkling Shiraz might be like. Everyone at work said don't bother. One said gross. One said odd. Then I heard a guy rave about this exact wine on a podcast of the Splendid Table and I thought it was fate. He described it as a perfect burger wine. What everyone should have said was that it tastes exactly like carbonated Shiraz that you've felt compelled to chill. Yep, cold fizzy Shiraz. It reminds me of concord grape juice a little. Only, I like concord grape juice more.

I've been planning to include some recipes so I have a record of my experiments and just in case anyone else ever reads this, they'll know I do more than half ass it at work and bitch. I haven't been cooking much. I am working six day weeks through Christmas, so my opportunities are limited. I am hosting a brunch this Sunday and I am excited. It will be me, my family and my mother's friend. Probably eight people. I have set the following menu:

Crab and artichoke quiche (crab and artichokes from a can . I am not made of money.)baked eggs with cheese (I am making just a bit for the little niece and in case anyone doesn't eat crab)
mini bagels
cream cheese and chives
smoked salmon
fruit salad with pineapple, mango, raspberries, blueberries and honey-lime syrup.
coffee
mimosas! (made with a much less purple sparkling wine)
My mother might bring sweet muffins if she and her granddaughter feel like baking the night before.

I think I need to add some type of potatoes - roasted I imagine with some onion. I might skip that. Or maybe add a green salad to move into brunch-lunch rather than brunch-breakfast. I did my shopping tonight. Tomorrow I prep.

So, I hate the wine less now. If I make it through half a glass of anything, I sort of like it. I just do not get it - like unfamiliar yet unintersting ethnic food. It is odd but I will drink it until my teeth are purple and I dump thhe rest down the drain. You can't waste wine - even if its free.

Today is the first day of the rest of your job.

2008-12-01T18:16:00.001-08:00

So, my month of six day weeks until Christmas started out OK. Busy enough day but not rushed. It's the first real snowfall of the year. I finished everything I need to finish and I left. God, I love this job sometimes. No crying in the shower. No bleary eyed exhaustion. Just regular working and then regular going home. Hello home!

I am thankful for ibuprofen and elastic waistbands.

2008-11-27T11:18:00.000-08:00

It is Thanksgiving and my ovaries are celebrating, wildly. They've shaken themselves into spasms of delight. Oh, I adore being a girl.

Luckily, we have liquid gel ibuprofen and nothing do do but bake and go to Grandma's house at three. I've got four dishes working, only two they're expecting, but I was motivated to make cranberry relish and a corn pudding (experimental and only going to the party if it turns out) on a whim. They know I'm bringing a butternut squash dish and green bean casserole.

The apartment smells great and I am guessing this will be one of those periods where I inhale food constantly. Today I can do that without shame. I am totally wearing my fat jeans.

Last week, my cold sore returned. This one is nasty. I had hoped it would be gone by today but it cracked and bled this morning. So I am bloated, crusty lipped and tender over every square inch of my body. I thank God I had the day off. If I were working in this state, I would snap or cry. Strangely, my psycho hormones have not been acting up all week. I didn't drink at all for two or three days and I gulped water. I think this health stuff actually works. I felt really good. Of course I drank a bottle of sauvignon blanc last night, so the ibuprofen is working double duty.

I wish I could throw a paper bag over my head and call it a day. I don't want anyone to actually look at me.

Brief Update

2008-11-21T19:25:00.000-08:00

Work is draining my life force this week. I'm on the slow climb that leads to the holiday season. I need to make my body and mind accustomed to the unbelievable multitasking. It's bizarre. So many phones ring and so much shit happens in every minute. I could pledge my first born to a person and totally mean it one minute. The next minute, I have no idea what happened. Worse, if I don't write it down, it never happened. I really hope I'm shipping something to correspond with every credit card I've swiped.

Tomorrow will be a festival of crazyness - a fiftieth birthday celebration taking place in the store during normal business hours. Employees will be trashed and customers worse. My job is so wierd.

In other news. I pulled the entire front of my hair into a barette today. I haven't done that since last spring when I allowed Jason to cut the pixie cut of doom. I will have real girl's hair by spring. I can feel it!

Tired

2008-11-16T18:20:00.000-08:00

I had a very long day for a Sunday. Bill can't drive so I took him to work. We left at 7:30 and I had purple teeth and wine breath from dinner Saturday. Still, I decided to swing around the city and visit my sister's place instead of going home and adding miles to a long enough trip. My mother was visiting and the reason I'd been drunk on wine the previous night. She was already at my sister's place. Mom wakes up at 4 am or some similar ungodly hour every day. I prefer eight hours minimum. I've been told I need "to get over that," as if proper sleep is a drug habit. I toughed it out to see everybody and spent the day with my fabulous niece who babbles in full sentances constantly. She takes me by the hand to play and is extremely, extremely energetic. We put her down for her afternoon nap and she cried when I told her I had to go bye-bye while she slept.

I skipped writing class to hang at home with Bill tonight. I surprised him and picked him up. His commute is less than twenty miles but two trains are spaced so it takes two hours on a Sunday. It is a pain in the ass to drive out there but it's a lot easier on my end than his. I bought groceries and made a delicous dinner: shrimp with garlic and ginger, rice with onions and almonds and sauteed broccoli rabe. I even did the dishes.

We got home and I managed to take a shower and brush my teeth only twelve hours late. I stole all the hot water and just leaned against the wall with the stream on my back. I cannot believe I've driven well over a hundred city miles in the last day and a half. I cannot believe how smart and wonderful my niece is. It's 8:30 now and I'm having a beer. My class has another half hour left but I could be snoring in twenty minutes.

Merle

2008-11-10T18:55:00.000-08:00

"Oh, what is it? What is it?!" she wailed.

"What is what?" I asked.

"I can't remember the name of it. Chateau Poo-poo. That wine? The one I want it was right here. Where is it? I just saw it."

"Poujeaux? Pommerol? Petrus?"

"NO! The one I found. The one for my lawyer. I just finished physical therapy. I'm so tired."

"I can imagine."

"They make me do the eliptical."

"Even I hate the eliptical. Good for you."

"Chateau-poo-poo pants?"

"Oh, the Chateauneuf-du-Pape from last time?"

"Yes! Why are you hiding it from me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's right over here. Let me hold your bags."

"You're so good to me. When are you going to marry your boyfriend?"

"Maybe next year. We want to buy a house first."

"You know Harold married me after three months. We were dating and he said 'That's it. We're getting married or it's over.'"

"He must have loved you instantly."

"Oh, he did. You know he's dead now."

"Yes, I know."

"I have his wines. I should put them up for auction. I really should. I don't know what he would want me to do with them."

"I think you should do whatever you want with them."

"Maybe I'll give them to my son. I think I'll leave now. You don't want an old lady ruining your day."

"No, you're no trouble at all."

"No, I'll leave. I'm tired. Walk me to my car. I'm so cold."

"Of course."

The Snob Bakes

2008-11-09T10:45:00.000-08:00

My mother calls me her Nancy Reagan daughter. If you heard the tone of voice she uses when she says it, you would be certain that this is not a compliment. I was born the week Reagan was inaugurated and my life has always been tied up with his presidency in my mother's mind.

I am the family priss. I see things too often as black and white, whereas my mother sees the world in a soft gray haze. It never helped that my sister was rebelliously cool from age two. She was the one insisting on wearing a Hawaiian print t shirt instead of a dress and I was off crying that we wouldn't match in our Sears portraits.

If you looked into my messy cheap apartment or saw me on the street, you would see a scatterbrained and entirely normal woman in her late twenties. Still, the role chosen at birth sticks in Mom's brain.

I have deviated so far from that role but one thing keeps pulling me back. I am a total snob on a few fronts. I am a food snob (tm my best friend W). I am a restaurant snob. I am a party snob. Working in restaurants and hotels will do it to you but I've always been this way. It's the reason I ended up in those restaurants and hotels.

This explanation leads up to today. I drove Bill to work and was wide awake. I was thinking of a fun activity to do on a Sunday at 8:00 am that didn't involve Jesus and I decided to go to Whole Foods while it's still empty. Being a recent young person turned old person, I had no idea what time a supermarket opens. Luckily, it opens at 8:00. I was car number four in the parking lot.

I had decided to try pie again. I made a very good first berry pie over the summer but I wanted to surprise Bill with pecan. He likes desserts in general but his favorite flavor is sugar. The sweeter the better and I thought pecan pie was the perfect thing. For it I bought a premade pie crust. Oh, did you think I meant cut-frozen-butter-with-two-knives pie? Silly me, I wanted to make it's-my-day-off-lazy-smells-good pie. I also bought dreaded High Fructose Karo syrup for the first time. (What is with those stupid commercials anyway?) .

The couple in front of me at the check out had about a dozen of the really cool guilt inducing reusable bags in all bright colors. They were buying organic produce that they carried, unbagged, to the register. I imagined they were the happiest and nicest people ever - shopping early to have plenty of time to volunteer. I was buying four types of sugar while the sun was barely up. They won, hands down. Ringing up my processed crap and bulk nuts with no hip cloth bag, my inner snob twitched.

Still, I smiled and bought my fructose, sucrose, dextrose and molasses. I went home a made pie. While the pie was finishing and I spent a few minutes peeking to be sure the crust didn't burn, I thought of how nice a freshly baked something would be-right now. But, it was 11:00 am. I had to save the pie for Bill and that meant after 9:00 pm when I get back from writing class. I wanted something hot right now.

I dug around the pantry. It's pretty deep. I recently found some beef soup purchased before I gave up meat in February 2007. I pulled out a little box of Jif pizza crust. It required water and five minutes to make dough. I was thrilled. Two convenience foods on my day off? Two carbtastic dishes made together? My snob yelled from within but I suppressed her with fantasies of surprising Bill with a note that says, "Your dinner's in the fridge. Heat in a 350 degree oven for ten minutes. Love Ya!" How fucking cute, right? Just like a housewife off on an evening adventure.

So, I made four small calzones. I steamed the last of the aging broccoli and mixed in cottage cheese, shredded cheddar, basil, parmesan and garlic. These were not authentic in any way, but I was winging it. The dough was too sticky and I kneaded in flour. It wasn't relaxed or risen, but the box said it was ready, I shoved the filling in, pinched and baked. They turned out great. Each one leaked somewhere, but after baking for only 15 minutes, the ooze was gooey and only browning on the edges. Man, is baked cheese good. I ate two as soon as they were cool enough to only burn me slightly. I wrapped two in foil and put them in the fridge, so later tonight I can write that note.

I think I am always wishing to be perfect. Wishing I were skinny or acclaimed or wealthy. I want a marker of my goodness that will show to everyone. I want to feel worthy of what I already have. I have so much love and such good things in my life. I couldn't want anything else and yet I do, all the time. I want to be better. I want to be comfortable. I want to win but have everyone like me and I want to do it without trying.

It seems that the only thing I actually do instead of wanting, is cook stuff. That makes me happy.

Making Dinner

2008-10-27T18:05:00.001-07:00

I'm making dinner right now. Bill has started his new schedule and I'm cooking for one on Mondays. I am actually really excited tonight. Last year I made a stuffed squash with lots of sage, white wine and parmesan in the filling. The combo was fantastic - sweet, acidic, cheesy- so I am trying to recreate it. I don't have a squash but I have one little sweet potato, so I'm making a sage, garlic, sweet potato and parmesan rice pilaf. I am ten minutes away from knowing if it is awesome or not.

Work beat me down today. I have worked there for three months and I am already the one in charge when management leaves. Whatever. I've got a key and a teeny bit of authority. I was managing big projects before this job, so remembering to lock up doesn't scare me. Still, every yahoo waited until the owner left to call and bitch about things I don't even understand. It was a stressful afternoon - but it's over.

I was forced, absolutely forced to open a new bottle of wine to add a splash to my dinner, so I have a lovely glass of 04 Jadot Chablis right now. It hits the spot.

Fucking Coincidence

2008-10-23T19:08:00.000-07:00

There were two men I knew.

One was a retired car dealer who moved to Arizona and had to be six and a half feet tall. I met him once, when travelling, and though I was only the girlfriend of the son of his son's new wife, he was so kind to me. He was loud and charming and probably had been a wonderful salesman. He made me feel right at home. We watched bad reality TV together and commented on the contestants.

The other was an immigrant who raised five kids and supported them by cooking in kitchens all around Chicago. He later retired and helped his wife open a beauty shop. None of his kids or his wife ever learned to cook because he made delicious and elaborate meals for every occasion. His six grandkids all called him Pops. He loved my sister instantly. She was an outsider and not Catholic. He spoke very little English and she doesn't know Spanish, but he loved her and adored the granddaughter she brought into his life.

Both were older and both we sick with painful diseases. They lived half a continent away from one another and I might be the only person in the world who knew them both. Both were good fathers and both had loving marraiges that lasted decades. Both died today - the same damn day, and left those wives, children and grandchildren heartbroken. If two people I knew had babies on the same day, I would call it a miracle, but this is a cruel blow. The world gives but it takes away. So, Parker and Jose, wherever you are, your families love you so very much.

Full Moon

2008-10-14T18:47:00.000-07:00

I hope it is the full moon. I have been tense, pissy and mentally clouded all day. I cannot keep up with the fairly simple demands of my job. I forgot details and put down papers and walked away. I was a true space cadet. That wouldn't matter too much if I didn't have to drive on the highway to get home.

The car and I are each still whole, so that's great. I almost got hit by an SUV and a I later almost hit a car. By almost hit, I don't mean had to break or swerve. I mean I was centimeters away driving at top speeds. Both could have been fatal and I defied the laws of physics by not grinding into that SUV as we both merged into the center lane from opposite sides. It was lovely.

Home is empty with Bill out for his Tuesday night pool playing. I checked my email and read the message boards on a website I frequent. I think I need to cut that out. First, the snob in me doesn't want to spend that much energy invested in cyberspace. The judgemental part of me doesn't think it's healthy to rely on the internet for social satisfaction. The pissy part of me wants to tell a few morons a few things about the real world and the very fact that I can get so upset about the words of strangers tells me I've crossed a boundary and need to check myself.

I don't really have any friends close by, at least not any more. It is so much harder after college. Bill grew up a few miles away, so he has plenty of childhood friends around. I don't have that anymore and it can be hard.

Pissy

2008-10-11T19:34:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm sad. Bill has legal troubles and I am selfishly angry about them - very angry. We need that money to buy a house and get married. I have money issues already. Seeing our plans float further into the future because of money makes me want to rip out my eyeballs. I have no idea where my job is going. I feel it's secure, but what do I know?

I feel like crying.

In an effort to actually track my days...

2008-10-08T16:51:00.000-07:00

Today was a beautiful fall day. We took a walk and I bought new canvases to paint on. We went to dinner with my accross the hall neighbor. The "institution" Italian restaurant in the neighborhood was having an off night - rubbery calamari and Bill's vodka sauce was not good. Our server was a straight up beeotch too. Still, no dishes to wash and we are home early for ANTM and Project Runway. I'm about to crack open a bottle of Chablis. I've got my feed-the-birds cardigan ready since it isn't quite time to turn on the heat. I love Wednesdays. I really do.

My sister's baby (at 21 months) is learning defiance and choosing daddy this week. "Help please! No Mommy, Daddy!" and "All done Daddy. No Mommy." My poor sister. I think it makes her a little sad to be number two for the first time ever.

Future Me

2008-10-06T19:04:00.000-07:00

For two years now, I have written an email to myself and had it delivered exactly one year later, as part of a "time capsule" project. Each letter has been addressed "Dear Future Me." I wrote about my baby sister becoming a mother, wishing myself to stop smoking for good (YAY, I really did that) and my boyfriend.

When I imagined my life when I was young, there were a few important factors that defined the grownup I wanted to be.

They are: art, open outdoor space, dogs, cooking, comfort, love, freedom, creativity...

I could probably go on for pages but I will spare anyone who reads this. I am not me unless I can spread out and be creative. I am not me unless I can mess around the schedule and make my own. Today, I felt like me a bit.

I went to a wine tasting on behalf of the job. I was uncomfortable once I arrived. I felt mentally clouded and totally uncool. Everyone seemed to know one another and they were all fakey-fakey. I had slight high school flashbacks. Look at me, the fattest girl here and the most dowdy! The men were all metro and wearing ties and sweaters with jeans. The girls were ditzy but thin and drawing attention. I was the one in flats and pants - yet again.

Still, I force myself to smile and talk to a few strangers. I could have networked a bit more, but this was an honestly douchey crowd. I made the best of it and left.

What felt awesome was the afternoon to myself. I had a few extra hours. I walked and shopped the Goodwill. I contemplated Halloween costumes. I made dinner at a leisurely pace. I drank wine while cooking and talked to my sister on the phone.

Sometimes I think my standards are wacky and sometimes I think I am so blessed. Does anyone really want more than to cook for a loving partner and talk on the phone and drink wine and walk around the city for a few hours every day?

One thing I never ever ever imagined as a young girl was real romantic love. I was a pessimist from adolescence. A boy name Charles blew me off when we had a distinct plan to go see Con Air. Guys at school would ask me about my slutty best friend or sexy baby sister or trigonometry. My mother was the world's bitterest divorcee. My deck was stacked for misery and I accepted it. I spent much of college in women's' studies classrooms and rejecting any cocktails purchased for me at bars. I fell for conceited jerks and cried when they dated skinny morons. I was fairly textbook for man issues.

I lucked out so much with my boyfriend. Sometimes, I think I used up all my luck and I am now cursed for career and such. See, I got the best and most attractive man I have ever met to fall in love with me. Sometimes, I think this far exceeds my lifetime allowance of happy points and as such I am doomed to never find my path in life.

For every youthful fantasy of happiness I created, there was never a man in the picture. When I fell in love with Bill, three plus years ago, I had to readjust mentally. It was a couple years into our relationship that I realized that someday, when we had children, we would both get a say in the way our kids were raised. Ridiculous, yes - but I had never seen two parents work together. That realization floored me and as a person who has worried about the implications of string theory since I was twelve, I like to consider my contingencies well thought out. I had imagined children but never imagined a dad in the picture. I had even imagined a wedding but never imagined a marriage. I guess I just assumed romances would always end (cough, cough, my issues, cough).

So, as I adjust to keeping Bill forever. I wish and I hope and I finally imagine a future me who isn't the tough and independent woman of my adolescent fantasies. She is similar in many ways but happier and softer too. Her independence is loose and free, not hard and defiant. Future me will not be the exact replica of the woman I imagined when I was a teenager. That can be scary when I realize my outline has disappeared.

New Boss

2008-09-30T18:52:00.000-07:00

I am getting used to my new boss now. I like him very much, but as I am a moody person who needs coffee and alone time, I am confused by his strange and sparkling happiness that is always mellow and kind. I distrust such behavior as a rule and tend to think of such people as fakers.

It seems his enthusiasm is genuine. He has bestowed some nice responsibilities on me like writing fun marketing stuff and attending interesting and non-horrible events. I am getting excited about work type things. That hasn't happened in a long time. I am feeling less and less dormant.

He has not dumped crap in my lap on a Friday or called me out for things I know nothing about or suggested there is a proper way to staple paper or any of the behaviors I accepted as normal from my old boss. It is weird that as much as I prefer the new boss in almost every way, there was something very soothing about the fact that only I could stand my old boss. I felt tougher than the average girl. I think I might actually have issues I didn't know about!

My long probationary period ended months early as the new boss announced he liked me and would give me health insurance early. On the very same day I received mail from my last bleep of an employer - the one I ran away from - about benefits. It seems I wasn't removed from a mailing list.

It gave me the chills to see that letter. I thought about what I would be doing if I were still at that job. First, I would still be at work. 9 to 9 was my basic schedule. I could certainly work longer if it was required, but never shorter. I would be dressed in a designer suit, purchased by the company. I might even be on one of the auxiliary boards they so heavily recommended for me. I would be morphing into a person I don't want to me. For a while I thought I could be an event manager and party planner and avoid the mold of Gold Coast bitchery...but no one can. It is so weird to witness. I wish I could explain but after sixty hour weeks of witnessing it, I couldn't reconcile it within myself, much less explain it in words.

So, in my totally opposite direction of a new job, I tend to stick a Bic ballpoint pen behind my ear at all times. I often carry a clipboard and chat with strangers. I have taken to wearing cardigans and keeping lip gloss in my pocket. I feel like a combo of an old lady and a teenager. That feels a much more appropriate self image than some sort of glamorous city woman in stilettos. I am attending wine tastings and wearing tights again. I am leaving my suits in the closet and wearing flats every day. I am rolling my eyes in solidarity with my new coworkers and growing out the evil pixie cut. Oh, the hair is floppy and gross right now. If ever there was a hairstyle that looked pubescent, I have that. It is so fucking awkward it hurts to look at. A bobby pin and headband can try and help, but I've got to grin and bear this phase, hoping I turn out pretty. I am optimistic that if my life were a movie, this period would be the montage with catchy music. I would look frazzled but poised and before the song ended I would look around I realize I was getting to be happy again.

Babies

2008-09-21T19:42:00.000-07:00

My niece is old enough for pigtails now. She is twenty months old and finally likes barrettes in her hair. She used to just rip them out. Today was a nice day. Mom was in town so she took me to my sister's suburb and we all went to brunch. We ladies of the family haven't been all together much since we increased to four.

My mother has a birthday this week and the baby turns twenty months. "Imagine," Mom said to me while pointing to the baby, "When you were this age, I was eight months pregnant with your sister."

"And when you were my age almost exactly, you were getting pregnant with me." I said it before I realized it's the truth. I am exactly the age at which my parents conceived me. As I recall, I grew up with some of the older parents of the kids my age.

I wonder if I am going to be an old Mom. My boyfriend hints around about engagement rings every once in a while but he also talks about changing jobs and I haven't seen evidence of any progress on either front. I know that a wedding isn't a prerequisite for a baby, but I don't think we would relax our prevention methods until we were married. We've discussed it and we want to stick to the lame traditional plan if possible.

I think all this turmoil and thinking is my biological clock making itself heard. We have agreed that we want kids by 35, but that's almost 8 years from now. I feel like I want them sooner. It's all my niece's fault for being the most wonderful, beautiful, captivating child in the universe.

Diet

2008-09-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

For years, I have lived under the assumption that I have a "slow metabolism." My Mom is heavy and has hypothyroidism. Her Mom was heavy and had hypothyroidism too. My sister and dad are skinny no matter what, lucky bastards. I have always been heavier than I would like. Any glance at old photos shows me I was never unhealthy, I am just not skinny and I never will be. I am fleshy. Hypothyroidism has never shown up on my yearly blood work. I do get tested. If I am truthful, my worst health issue is laziness.

I have never really dieted. I love food too much. It can be my entire reason for a day. I will wake on Sundays thinking of dinner and where to shop for ingredients. I've worked around food for years in restaurants and a hotel. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, my life revolves around food and I love that about it. Without that, I would not be me.

Still, the new job has brought change. I used to walk either four miles each way to work or "wimp out" and walk just one to the train. Now, I drive my car 27 miles and walk in from the parking lot. This has cut an easy dozen miles of walking out of my week. Now, I get home later and I am tired. I have been eating too much and drinking too much by my own lax standards. My boyfriend is taking responsibility for more dinners now and that means frozen pizza or Thai delivery. I am probably a bit situationaly depressed and that doesn't help. This is the perfect storm that has caused some straight up weight gain.

I think I have to do this dieting thing now, in some form or another. I was thinking of giving up grain based foods for a while. I think I could do that and stick to more salad and soups. I need to hold back the fat as well. Since I don't eat meat, that doesn't leave much. I have considered going vegan or raw for a bit as well. I am not a moderation girl. If it is around, I will finish it. I quit cigarettes and meat cold turkey, so I need to drop the junk that way too.

I refuse to follow any of the branded plans I know about. I will admit I am snobbish as hell about food and it's not going to happen. A cursory glance at a calorie info website revealed the horrors of my food from yesterday. Dark chocolate, mascarpone, three crab rangoons and cheddar cheese in one day is, I guess, bad for you. Oh, two bloody marys and five beers is bad too. How am I supposed to combat a hangover without fried foods I ask? Cruel world, why must the proportion of exercise required for good health be directly proportional to the amount of time I wish to spend eating and drinking and vice versa? I enjoy exercise in moderation and indulgence as a daily lifestyle habit. I did it backwards.

Old

2008-09-13T18:47:00.000-07:00

Today I looked in the mirror and looked different than I used to. The horrid haircut is growing. I have gained weight. All this makes sense. It's what happens when you don't cut your hair or exercise. I feel older. People call me ma'am over the phone now. I used to get asked if my mommy was home well into my teens. My voice was always younger than my real age. I don't have any epiphany about this feeling or anything constructive to add. I just feel old.

Roommate

2008-09-06T18:40:00.000-07:00

Today, a series of strange and wonderful events transpired at work and I ended up drinking a glass of 1989 Chateau Haut Brion while a nice man broke into my car and retrieved my keys. My boss said, "You might as well quit today. It's not going to get any better than this." I took my wine glass out to the parking lot to thank the nice man and sat down on an upturned wine crate near the dumpster in a good patch of sunshine. I closed my eyes for a few moments to make sure I would remember it. While working on Saturdays will never be my favorite thing, I've always managed to get good perks one way or another.

Back when I could barely tell a red from a white, I had a roommate who gave me a wine of the month membership for Christmas. We were twenty-three. He was a good but complicated roommate. He was the kind of guy who, on paper, was a dream. He was tall and cute enough, successful in his career. He was empathetic and kind. In reality and not on paper, he was the worst storyteller in the world. You could fall asleep listening to him and your heart would sink every time he piped up. He couldn't tell a joke, ever. He'd fuck up the timing or laugh on the punch line. He told the same stories, with the same phrasing and the same emphasis over and over. He told stories about his high school job and his father - terrible stories. He did the dishes though, always paid the bills and once walked to meet me at the bus stop when a creepy guy was staring me down on the bus. Together we created a tenuous little unit of lonely young people who helped each other out and shared pasta and toilet paper.

Following nature's laws of futility and annoyance, my roommate developed a crush on me. He never hit on me, but he started giving me gifts. He gave me pretty agate earrings on the fourth of July. He couldn't hide anything and began to stare at me dreamily. Our mutual friends started to notice. Even the way he said my name changed and it began to bug the hell out of me.

I knew it was time to change, so I moved out and got my own place at the end of the lease. We slowly lost contact. The last time I saw him was a couple years ago at a barbecue when he introduced me to his date. She was dull and cutish. She laughed at his botched delivery and hung on every word of his God awful stories. She gave the precautionary stink eye that women do when they meet a date's female ex-roommate. The eye quickly judged if we ever slept together. The eye said, "You had your chance and yeah, I know you lived together. I know he says you were never involved, but just in case you didn't realize. He's mine now." It happened in a flash and I had to pretend I didn't see it at all. For the rest of the night, they just grinned at one another and I knew it then.

Yesterday, I got the wedding invitation in the mail. They're getting married at a winery in October. I will go and wish them the best.

My boyfriend and I have been together three and a half years and people (mostly parental people) have begun to ask about our marriage plans. It is funny for me to see other people with shorter relationships getting married, especially when I think they are a good match. It doesn't feel like our time just yet. Somehow, buying a house seems like the right move. A wedding doesn't. I feel like I would marry him tomorrow but that there's no rush. I do wish Roomie and Stink Eye the very best of luck.

The blank page

2008-08-30T18:52:00.000-07:00

My computer betrayed me. I installed updates just like I am supposed to and it decided to freak out and not restart. My boyfriend was called in. He tried set it to a previous setting or reverted it in some way to something and it worked again. It just lost many of my programs and all of my files. This leads to...

An ode to my hp

Seriously, I don't want to reinstall Word or dig up proof that I just bought Norton.
That is so boring.
I just want to email my girlfriends, find out who got ugly a la facebook and laugh at the trashy choices made on the babycenter name boards.
Is that not my right?
Oh, I also need to read a couple blogs of stangers I have followed for a few years, look up vegetarian recipes, fantasy job search and sometimes compose the perfect cover letter (my version of the perfect cheer).
I have to keep an eye on my hometown newspaper (recent story: Boy and Aunt Lost in Corn Field Found after Hour Long Search).
I also want to watch videos about animals when I am hormonal.
I want to play a Yahoo game that involves stacking every now and again.
I must have access to Google and IMBD, just so I can settle arguments with my boyfriend.
I need to read about our vice presidential nominees, lest I be tricked into assuming a person who also has a vagina might care about the rights I care about.
In short, computer, I need you to work so I am not forced to watch the college football that my loving boyfriend has claimed as his right.

Every cover letter I have sent in the last two years and every version of my resume is gone gone gone. I had: resume_communications, resume_creative, resume_lies, coverletter_ballsy, coverletter_namedrop and coverletter_desperate all lined up for cutting and pasteing. They are all gone. This absence feels like a relief. I always liked the idea of certain professions. I always thought I'd enjoy having clients, selling things and planning events, but I never enjoyed any of the components. I don't like long hours or networking. I don't know whose career I was inventing in my head as I kept pushing and pushing for these dumb jobs that go to rich guys' daughters every time. Then I got one and I quit. I quit quickly and decisively. My body practically created psychosomatic symptoms to keep me from going to the job.

That part of my computer held the baggage. It was shameful to see the reminder of all the effort I put in just to fail at a career I secretly regard as not good enough for me anyway. How twisted and adolescent of me to both long for a job and resent it at once. It is actually no surprise that all that stuff is gone. Chapters, doors, books, gates and metaphors have all been closing for me lately. As frightening as the possibility of losing something important is, the empty space is chance for a do over. So I say, hello blank page.

The Tower

2008-08-24T13:24:00.000-07:00

After three years of waiting around for a promotion at my old job, I got fed up and took a promotion with another company. I should have known better. The raise was too big. The smiles on my new bosses' faces were too wide. I asked my tarot cards and I pulled the Tower. I accepted the job and I hated it.

After three months of daily crying in the shower, I quit. I had no job lined up but I wasn't willing to let impending homelessness keep me this miserable. I geared up for financial hardship and prepaid a few months insurance. My two weeks notice passed as I created manuals and lists for the poor woman who replaced me. I left quietly.

The very next day, my friend's boss offered me a job in his wine shop. I would commute to a suburb and "help out" at the store. No title, no business cards, no suits. Until I hit unemployment, I would have never considered this job. It pays well, but I was wrapped up in ideas of retirement plans and PPOs. I was twenty-seven and healthy and afraid of making the slightest wrong choice and thus ending the world. This time, I didn't analyze or overthink it. I just needed some work, so I took it. That is how I ended up opting out of the corporate climb in twelve crazy weeks.

So, one month into the wine shop, I am here. The freshmen are moving into the dorms near my apartment and we are all walking around with the same bewildered looks on our faces. I'd blend into the crowd if I weren't ten years older than they are. What happens after your plans meet the Tower? What happens when the life you weren't exactly excited about but had come to terms with pursuing because it offered good stability and a chance to make lots of money gets so bad that you just walk away? I am going to find out and hopefully find out a lot more about what I actually want.