Prego

Hi, I'm not.

But here's how the past two days have turned out:


Yesterday

Co-worker: What are you doing?
Me: Working
Co-worker: Is it a secret?
Me: Sure
Co-worker: Are you pregnant?
Me: Yes
Co-worker: Really? Swear to God?
Me: Yes
Me: I'm going to hell.
Me: Even he knows. (pointing to another nosy co-worker)
Co-worker: Congratulations!
Me: I'm not pregnant.
Co-worker: But you swore to God.
Me: I know.
Me: Go away!


Today

(A different co-worker): Are you pregnant?
Me: Have you been talking to (fill in name of above co-worker)?
Co-worker: No.
Me: I'm not.
Co-worker: Well, I thought because of your shirt...
Me; Oh, yeah, I guess it's flowy.
Co-worker: And you seem to have that bump.
Me; What??!
Co-worker: I mean, you could be 3 months along.
Me: WHAT????!
Me: How long have you thought I was pregnant?
Co-worker: About a month.
Me: Okay...
Co-worker: I've ruined your day--I'm sorry. Laughs.
Me: No, it's okay. I know my belly needs work.
Co-worker: Maybe it's muscle.
Me: Right.

***

Thanks! I feel great about my gut. Glad I work here, too.

Update

I've shared the horror story of today (see above) with others at the office. Mainly to share my shocked feelings, but to see if others think the same about me. I've been told I'm skinny and have a non-existant (someone even said concave) tummy. I'm not sure about that; I could put some butter on this one roll.

I'm also getting a lot of "How are you feeling? Don't lift anything. Have you picked out names?" jokes. I'm suprisingly not too upset but I wonder if you all think I'm a real fatty now.

I would like to think I'm not, but hey, someone I work with thinks I have some exercising to do...

I'm bored

But not like I was at my last job when I surfed the Web for the majority of the day because well, there was absolutely nothing to do--nothing to make myself busy with and my boss was an advocate of keeping me thinking I was busy by doing "research" at the nearby bookstore which turned into looking at books to try and get into law school (hahahahaha!) and trying not to turn my head and look the other way across the street at the people rushing in and out of H&M for cute cheap bobbles.

No, I'm sick of the rut. But it's not the rut that you all describe--or maybe it is. The snoozing of the alarm a bazillion times a morning, just knowing that the extra 30 seconds (or what feels like 30 seconds) of sleep isn't going to help you feel any more rested. It's not the I know I can make it in before 9 or at 9 this morning but when you're drying your hair trying to look good for a Friday (yes, it's FRIDAY! Wahooo!), you think, I can be a few minutes late because I'm not going to have frizzy hair for going out later on tonight!

It's the work.

There's plenty of it.

But I feel like I've done and learned all I can.

And now it's the repetition.

The contracts.

The addenda.

The blah.

The "Hey! We're the greatest company on the Earth so just give us your content and we'll make you rich!" Well, I don't exactly say it like that--as I'm sure you could guess--but I'm sort of trying to disguise what it is I do for fear of my boss finding this : ) Even though there is a photo here and there of me on here : )

So anyway, I just feel burned out. I know I need the ever-important "vacation" but there's nothing here that makes me want to strive to do better--because--as you have heard me say before (or read what I've communicated before) there is no "up" in this job. As a newly created position in a marketing department where--gasp--I do no marketing (which is fine by me because I'm doing what I'd want to do if I had to pick it out of the entire company)--there is no umph, no desire. And with that, I wake up each morning thinking that at 10am I will have a shiny new email from Prospective Employer saying "Hey! We want you!" (because they are one hour behind us hence the email coming at 10) or I will see on my phone that I have a call from "Call"--this is how Prospective Employer's "name" shows up (as "Call"). Or perhaps while I was dragging boxes of books to production there will be a lovely voicemail from Prospective Employer saying "Please, Ripe, give us a call at your convenience."

Then, of course, I would have to wonder if they wanted me to call them back so that they could tell me the position has been filled.

And there's the whole am I putting all my eggs in one basket? UGH! The options for what I want to do here in good old Boston are limited--unless I move--which I am not in the forseeable future, unless of course it's to a house in a cute town in MA : )

It's been 2 weeks since the second interview and almost 3 since the first...One follow up email has been sent as of last Wednesday. Another was sent on Monday.

For now, I'll just have to keep my busy bored self occupied and allow the iced caramel latte to drown out the impatience I'm feeling.

Happy Weekend.

A Few Important Announcements

GD Prospective Employer has still not called and no longer feels the need to reply to my "I know patience is a virtue, but I'm curious--have you filled the position yet?" when I really just want to write "I know patience is a virtue, but how the fuck long does it take to make an offer when you said it was me and this other anonymous person interviwing for this job?"

While in the shower I thought--what if someone from my office applied for the job and they are so totally unsure of who to make the offer to? Then I thought that would be ridiculous and why would they care? Feel free to share both positive and negative scenarios here, people. I like the entertainment.

***

I go into a bookstore yesterday (instead of browsing on Amazon as Bub suggested I should) to find a book.

I was an English major, made to read the bad: Beowoulf (BLECH!) and the good (Uncle Tom's Cabin) and lots of others--those just stick out in my mind. I kept things straight. I did alright, people. I graduated and I'm better for it.

But put me in a bookstore--I go nuts. I don't know how to pick a book because I don't know what I like. At all. Give me a girly book and I'm like this is SO dumb, but I'll read Prep and love it. Give me a contemporary fiction something and I force myself through it. My sister says it's good--just stick with it. I want to believe her because she said the same thing about Memoirs from a Geisha and I enjoyed that one. But Middlesex? Didn't happen for me. I have a couple others like that too--books borrowed from friends that sit, collect dust, never allow their story to be told. Anyway, I am embarrassed I found something worth buying purely because it reminds me of a Lifetime movie on paper. But anyway, I'm already 100 pages into it so maybe this says something about my intellect being parallel to bad women's television dramas.

***

We just had a farewell lunch for a man who has been at our compay the second longest. Second longest at our office, that is. We took him to a restaurant and he drank some beers, made 2 speeches, said goodbye and thanks to me twice and so I asked him what's next. And in his pissed off demeanor, he replied that he's taking the rest of the year off (as if the "rest of the year" is a few weeks) and then he's going to reassess. He didn't return to the office after the lunch. And I am so jealous of him right now.

***

My boss actually thought I thought that fiscal year means the same thing as calendar year. But you see all I did was repeat a part of an email I got with a question that had nothing to do with fiscal years. You see she just thinks she's the shit except she might be if it wasn't for how she dresses. Oops. Anything zipped up over some sort of lingerie, I'm pretty sure is a no-no. Especially when you can see 3/4 of the lingerie (gross) and especially when it's not a sweatshirt or sweater being zipped up, but a shirt--a shirt that should button up. Return the shirt. Just do it.

***

I have big plans to do a couple of errands tonight sandwiched between my trip to the gym. But you see I've been meaning to get to the gym both Tuesday and Wednesday and for reasons I cannot control (American Idol and said book described above), I haven't been able to lure myself to put on my semi-new sneakers and drabby workout clothes that make me feel oh, so attractive. Tonight, though, that changes.

***

I've booked myself a Swedish massage as a pre-birthday gift to me. Since I feel poor going to a spa and paying for numerous services (waxing, nails, etc.), I have opted for a half hour massage. I'm still looking forward to it even though it's not a full hour. All I need to do is justify the facial that I'm also due for (it's been 9 months, people, it's time)--I think May or June is a great option for that, right as the warm weather starts to kick in.

***

This weekend, though, I don't yet have much planned--dinner with a friend on Friday and the usual items to get done on Saturday. I'm glad to hear it's going to be warm, but what about the rain?

***

This has turned into a long list of announcements. I do apologize for misleading you since these aren't really important ones--at least the Prospective Employer can agree--I'm not that important. But I think they're somewhat significant as they all relate to moi.

Weekend Top 10

1. Getting a really, really good manicure without being rushed, forced to pick a different "better" color, no crowd, and for cheap!

2. Finishing a slew of errands before the storm hit: groceries, bills, post office, and gym.

3. Baking fluffy and healthy blueberry muffins on Saturday morning for Bub so that he'd have something yummy to eat while he told me about his hiking trip.

4. Having an early evening on Saturday, discovering a new yummy beer, hanging at a noisy bar and feeling like we were the only ones there.

5. Getting up early today, seeing the sun shine into the quiet church, putting on our layers and getting ready for the race.

6. Running the 5k. Seeing Bub surprised that I caught up to him and then sprinting past lots of huffing and puffing and getting lost in the sea of green.

7. Beers at the bar after the race, talking with Bub's friends. Telling Italy stories, letting the buzz settle in.

8. Spicy onion rings and not feeling guilty about eating them after the run!

9. Napping in our layers after making it home from our early and jam-packed day.

10. Selecting wedding photos to purchase for framing; we'll finally have photos to display on the mantel when we move into a house.

This week is dragging but only because of work. And it's not the lack there of because there's certainly plenty of crap to do. It's just the rut. I couldn't be 100% happy today that it was nice out because this weekend, so I hear, will be like winter with snow and cold and blah.

I'm still waiting to hear from Prospective Employer. I couldn't resist sending a follow up email to the HR rep who arranged the interviews but who only phone interviewed me and will most likely never meet me in person because he works out of another distant office... So I did a little brief hey--thanks--just checking in. And he gave me a prompt thank you for checking in reply along with how he is waiting for feedback which is to come "shortly". MMMMmmmk. What does that mean? Feedback as in he needs the people I interviewed with to give feedback on us as in me and the one other final candidate or he needs to wait and hear that the other person accepted their offer? UGH.

Bub is off tomorrow evening to Mt. Washington to go on a hike with friends and a hired guide. He will climb in snow and ice and I will think warm thoughts while snuggling under a blanket. He won't return until late on Friday. Sigh. But then that means I can start in on season 5 of 24 since he has proven disinterested in Jack Bauer. I know, what a sin.

I'm looking forward to a fun St. Patty's weekend complete with a 5k and some beers, of course!

Until then, this week creeps. The suspense builds.

Translate for my gut

My weekend started off on a good note. I feel like I had a very good connection with the person who interviewed me during my final meeting with Prospective Employer.

This is the second time I've felt that I did not shake the interviwer's hand well. I did so upon departing his office before stepping into the elevator, but the first time was as if I couldn't grasp his hand and lock it in for my trademark one-up, one-down shake. I try not to let that set the tone for the questions and back-and-forth that is inevitable at an interview, and I feel that I managed to do well despite the weak hand clutch.

I like people who listen to me and take notes. Not only does it make me feel that I have important things to say, it shows the other person listens. This person took notes! He also did a lot of nodding and "yes" and "yup"-ing. I do that, too, which doesn't necessarily mean that the person is listening to you, but hey, at least they want to appear engaged. At least, I like to think so. I left feeling more excited about the position.

Lately, I feel as though I've been having job search depression. I am not content in my current position and my last position was very slow and there was hardly anything to do which should have been a flag to me since the office shut down after a mere seven month stint there. So it's been a while since I've really been connected and passionate and excited about work. There are certain perks about my job now, but there is, from what I can tell, no growth stream for me, no next step, if you will, which is a huge problem as far as where I want to be at this age in my career. I've known for a while, especially after attending trade shows, that I want to return to the types of companies I used to work for. Notice I wrote types, not that I want to work at the actual companies I used to once work for. No way.

So in this restless sort of tug-of-war I've had at jobs where I want to stay, make it work, enjoy it, I just feel like it's not fair to allow myself to be sucked up into an atmosphere like that when I know my heart is elsewhere.

So this is where my job depression enters: Where is elsewhere?

I thought it would be at this company I just interviewed with since I've tried many times to make something gel, to hope their HR people weren't as flaky as they seem, to make them see the light, that I can do this job! But I knew that they would continue to search, drag their heels, find someone more aligned with what they're looking for. Fine.

And now this job comes up. And I'm nervous. "Go with your gut" people say. "Are you crazy, you aren't sure you want this?"

My mother is one of the only people who seems to sense my hesitation: Is this what you really want?

I guess I'm just worried because even though it's publishing, it's a different beast in a way. And since so many of my skills translate into this available position, well, does that mean I'll have to keep re-using those same skills, the ones I acquired in my present job to do non-fun stuff in this next job? Or will it be fun stuff? Or will it just be stuff like stuff everyone has to do at work because it's work?

I'm looking for passion, people. I just thought I'd be closer to it at 26 years old. A month and a day away from 27, too...

I don't know what I'm afraid of. I usually have no trouble jumping into something with both feet, but for some reason, I'm freaking out! So then is THAT a sign that this is a bad move? Someone translate for my gut, please.

I guess I have no decision to make unless they make me an offer.

To be continued.

I like to think I'm the type of person who knows what she wants.

Got the job before graduating college...check.
Got promotion...check.
Found new job to escape current work hell...check.
Found new job within a month after new job's office closed...check.
Found another new job to escape current work "situation"...semi-check.

I am dwelling. I am stressing. I haven't even been offered the position yet. Daily Editor offers advice. (Thanks Daily Editor!) Others offer advice. Bub tells me to slow down--first things first.

I talked to an old co-worker who I haven't spoken to in three years who holds the position I am applying for, but in a different capacity. She reassures me, I am doing all the right things.

Knock on wood.

I get so competitive.

I get ahead of myself. I just want the option to choose what's next.

I hate final interviews. Eww.

I want my parents to tell me what to do next.

Bedtime is in less than 15 minutes. Up early for the gym, then for another day's work and another day until the interview.

Is it the weekned yet?

meh

It was a good day off today.

I didn't sleep in since I had a doctor's appointment. I couldn't relax afterwards since I had to prepare mentally and physically for the interview.

And I just don't know what to say.

Is it what I want? Do I have a choice as to whether or not it can be mine? Did they like me enough? Did I like the job enough? Do I want to make the move? Is it right? What is right? What next? What will I do if I get an offer? How will I feel when I don't get an offer? Is my theoretical boss good in theory?

Is it what I want? Where's the crystal ball? Where's the person telling me what to do? What is right? What is right?

Isn't this the company I've tried interviewing at three times now? Isn't this the place that is so exclusive and difficult to crack? Is it worth it? Or is it a silent nightmare? Is there anything creative about this job? I don't think so--but isn't that what I wanted? But what's my next move, my next option, my better offer if this isn't it? I'm not accounting material. I'm not finance.

I'm lazy. And slow. And burned out. I want my bakery and frosting and fun purses and sunshine. I want red wine on the porch in the evening.

Pushing a stroller on a spring afternoon. Tucking her into sleep at night. Ironing in front of the television like my mother.

What is logical? Who is judging me?

I am.

One hour away

I'm one hour away...

from a long weekend to which I will not feel guilty that I have so much work and that I'm taking the day off on Monday. Besides, the idea of a new job sounds like a better way to think about work. And since my interview is that day, I shall stress about that and not how full my inbox will be on Tuesday.

from seeing best friends for dinner. I'm not looking forward to trekking through the rain, especially when I'm tired and wanted to hit the gym, but there is no time in between for that. Not that I'm complaining too much about not working out, but the Chinese food I ate yesterday and the potential dessert I may consume tonight will be reason enough to make me feel like a guilty cow.

from checking on my gash on my right leg. I managed to use the stupid, pink, CVS-brand razor that I knew I should have trashed because they suck. They SUCK! And as I was drying off on the shower mat, I noticed blood. I knew I had a cut; I could feel it for goodness' sake, but DUDE! This was like I tripped on an axe with my ankle. Damn razor.

And the clock ticks...

The List

I make lists at home concerning things I must do each day, each week, especially over the weekend. Then there are the work lists. For the day, week, in general.

When I start doodling on my list, highlighting left and right, and crossing things off (which doesn't happen often enough), I have to start again. New paper, new list. It's exhausting.

You know what else is exhausting? This week. And I wasn't particularly busy. I mean I could have been busier, doing things on my list! However, 24 has presided over this (we just started Netflixing the 4th season and yes, we are already addicted), the cold winter air has kept me under blankets on the couch (big shocker there). Wine (another big shocker), downloading new songs (where is the new song with Timbaland, Nelly, and Justin?), being lazy--those were more important than finishing our picks for our wedding album (because we're four months away from the one-year mark!), cleaning the parts of the condo that weren't tidied this weekend (zzzzzzz), writing a sample to send in with my application to the writer's conference (and what will that be about?), looking at more than 2 Web sites for a new job (but I do have an interview!), amongst other to-do things. But do you know what? I'm okay with it. Really.

And tomorrow's Friday (as if you weren't already counting down the hours until the weekend).

I miss me

I wore old sneakers to the gym tonight.

I had forgotten how worn they were with dried mud and dirt tucked into the crevices and coated in places on the fabric. Holes were worn at the heel area, ready to rub and collide with my skin and create blisters.

It didn't happen.

The sneakers have been with me a long time and were abandoned to the back of the closet for almost two years. I needed a switch from my already old "new" sneakers.

The shoes brought me back to all the color guard practices outdoors and how that mud may have been from then...although it's been longer than two years since I graduated. I thought to the high school track I visited during summers when I wanted to be outdoors, exercising and not in a claustrophobic gym with fans working overtime while I watched the sun beat down outdoors.

Tonight, sitting at the desk in our bedroom I notice my driver's license photo. When you get married, you get a new license with your new name, new signature, and yes, new photo, too. Because when you get married you look different. Now, didn't you know that? No, seriously. I look at the photo which was taken just before summer closed up shop. And I see my face and think to what it used to be. To now. Now it's aged. The jaw line is different. The eyes slightly reserved. No longer vulnerable and naive. It's a very different photo than the one I had taken my freshman year of college for my school ID.

I remember the walk all the way across campus the day I moved into my dorm freshman year. All the marching band kids got to move in early because we had been there a week already and it was easier that way. I lived in a triple which was lucky for a freshman to land. I had my own corner, leaving my other two roommates to divide a smaller space with bunk beds. But in turn they got the window.

I remember my parents visiting me each summer to see our show before classes begun, at the football games, whenever I attended away games close to Boston and therefore closer to home, and of course at homecoming. We'd dine out at favorite restaurants. Amherst was a second home. I miss it.

I guess I'm feeling a little sad, a little remote tonight. Wine plays no part in it. I've taken too much for granted, so much for granted. The photos will continue to change. There will be other sneakers. And there will be my kids to go visit at homecoming.

For now I miss being young. Today it may be an oxymoron. But tomorrow we all know that will change.

One more thing...

I'm contemplating applying to attend a writer's conference this summer. The trouble is I feel like outside of the silly newsletter I write at work and this blog, that I haven't truly written. What sample will I submit? The application asks you to rate your genre--what?? I don't have one! There isn't any risk in my applying--you pay only if you get accepted--but still...I tried the law school thing--but writing? This is something I should be good at. I mean, isn't that what being an English major means? Ugh.

Plans

When I'm in the shower and getting ready for work, I like to think about what I will do after I come home at night. They'll be dinner to make of course and the gym to force myself to attend, and then there are the leftover errands/chores/things I wanted to get done over the weekend.

So tonight I hope to put away all the laundry Bub so nicely did for us, finish washing the tub, and vacuum each room before heading to the gym.

But something about the snow makes me think that I would be so much happier curled up wtih Bub, sipping some wine, and just hanging out.

We had a great weekend. The in-laws were in town and we had a big dinner together with my parents on Friday night. Saturday I attended my first kick boxing class in a long time. I actually felt like I could work out after the class, too, but decided there was a lot more to accomplish that day, so I went home. Later I felt the pain start. It was so bad that I had to take asprin before bed and was sore all through yesterday. I guess I overdid it!

We got some shopping and errands done, but there were no houses to see. Sigh.

I am on a mission for new sneakers and had fun shopping online at Sephora. I love that store. And it's nice to be all by yourself and overwhelmed as opposed to zig-zagging between store employees and other shoppers to look and smell and test.

I'm on a mission, too, for a headband and have been so for a while. I think I found one I want online. Anyone have any good recommendations?

Have a great Monday.

I left work on time tonight, which is the first time I've done so all week. I know it's a short week and that last week I was in yee-hawville so that doesn't really count as real work so I shouldn't have to complain, but I am. It's been a pretty fucking busy week at work.

No matter how hard I try to predict what my boss will quiz me on, bug me about, ask for an update on, I fail. Not that I think I'm a failure, but she really does take me down several notches on the "I really know what I'm doing in my job" ladder.

I like to think I do what I'm doing and that I'm not a moron. People, am I a moron??

***

I realized this afternoon that my fly was down. I don't know the last time that's happened me because it rarely ever does, but it was down and I wondered if the coworker who rarely speaks to me, let alone rarely speaks to me at my desk, just so happened to come over to me at my desk today with a smirk on her face. She had little to say and I thought she might be coming over to talk to the other coworker at my desk trying to help me with something. But she claimed that she was just over to say "hey"...Well, hey...I think she knew all along. That's fine. I mean, I'm okay with it.

I skipped lunch today and ate breakfast type items later on in the day but that didn't stop me from consuming yummy pasta tonight and the numberless (because I'm hiding how many it is) trips for seconds I had. I had more than a second (and maybe more than a third), but they were smallish bowls...at least I like to think so.

I know, I'm gross and this is why I can't bitch about gaining back weight lost for the wedding. I'm really ready for an intervention. Bub, please help.

***

I'm tired. Bub is out and due back soon and we talked about going to the gym. I need him to go with me. We signed up to go together and so we should. The in-laws are here and will be visiting with us tomorrow night and I have an early (think first-thing-in-the-morning-you-can't-even-check-your-email-yet) call that I thought I would miss for a company meeting but apparently even my boss thinks this early call is way more important, fine. So my point is I won't have time to go to the gym before work since I can't risk being late one minute or more...(by the way, I have been doing smashingly well at being on time! Yay me!) But that means I get to waltz into a company meeting (didn't we just have one of those last week?) late and everyone will turn and I'll turn bright red (but I don't really ever turn red so I really won't) and then I'll probably have to either sit on top of the projector in the lap of the boss of the company or stand in the back and I just don't want to go. No, no, no!

But wait, tomorrow is Friday. And no, it is not a long weekend, but it is a weekend and I'll take it.

So I've Been Tagged...

and too busy to catch up on all-things-blogs to notice until now! Thanks Molly!

So here we go:

1. I hate clutter. If there are bottles and cans hanging out waiting for Bub to recycle (because I do not have the patience to watch said items accumulate and take up what tiny counter space we have in the kitchen), I will secretly and discreetly...ahem...chuck them.

I work at a place where I could potentially open my own bookstore, so if we didn't need an extra copy of a particular book or it's already been utilized for all-things-work-related, I can't stand the sight of stuff on my desk so I...um...throw them out. This includes books we decide aren't right for us because their subject matter is outside of our scope. Instead of walking my butt over to another department to put said books in a donation area for a local library, I throw them away. Go ahead, call the police!

Your Christmas card from December? Trashed--but Bub keeps a select number (read: ALL) if he can stand it. Receipts? Unless it's Christmas and I have to make sure people can return/exchange what I give them, they are all TRASHED. I can't stand the clutter!

2. I fear death. Bub knows this as I have shifted my fears of worrying about people like my father dying to Bub dying. When I was younger, I used to go around saying that I hope I would die before my parents so that I didn't have to go through what I imagine to be a painful time in life.

While driving in a normal fashion where I do not feel that urge to aggressively pass a truck, for example, I think if I die, then what? It's not the heaven or hell so much as SO many things go on in one's lifetime. Even if we think we lead very non-dramatic, boring lives, there is so much at risk. And I fear it daily. And I tell myself that I will prepare myself for these deaths so that I am not hurt. But I know that I am telling myself the same lie over and over again.

3. I secretly want to open a most delicious and fun bakery. Even if it's just to bake brownies. This wouldn't help my health as I am a sucker for anything sweet. But mixing together the ingredients and even trying to make the recipes more healthful elates me as I smell the sugar and butter and chocolate mold into something yum. I have looked several times online for baking gigs. Yes, I have.

4. Until this past July I did not have a middle name. I was the minority when it came to sharing with classmates what my middle name was--or better yet--making them guess because who would ever guess that I didn't have one? Since getting married I made my maiden name my middle name. I am still getting used to not only my new last name (which I love) but getting used to filling out items that call for a middle initial--and most times I still skip that field since it's not requirement to fill in that info--but I still haven't mastered signing my name with a middle initial or allowing my new "identity" of sorts to settle in.

5. Sometimes, when I get really ticked off at Bub, I walk away. But literally so. If we are in the car arguing and I happen to be driving, I will pull over, park, and then get out only to walk. Where? I don't know. And a scene usually happens a little something like this:

Me: walking
Bub: driving slowly along as I walk on the sidewalk
Bub: Get into the car. Come on.
Me: silence
Me: No!

And this repeats for a little and then I get into the car and we usually have a laugh at how ridiculous I can be. And how crazy it is that I do that.

6. I've never ever colored my hair, had a perm, had a cavity/route canal, etc. I have had braces, complete with headgear, and broken a bone (my left wrist and I am left-handed).

That sums it up for now. Sorry for the delay on this. When is it going to be Friday? This working thing blows...

Home

It was a long day of travel which started with a 3:30am wakeup call from Orbitz to let me know that my first of two flights was on time. I jumped back into bed for 15 minutes to let the alarm really sound at 3:45 since I have been up at 5:30 on my own--no assistance from any sort of alarm clock--while my unexpectedly cool roomie snoozed on and on since she stays up later to shower and what not before bed.

I pushed outside into the hallway the dirty dishes from the celebratory "I'm going home soon brownie ice-cream sundae" from the night before and grabbed the local paper which I heard the hotel staff plunk down while I was popping open my eyelids to psyche myself for getting the heck out of here and fast.

When I arrived downstairs and as my luggage ba-boomed and zoomed over the uneven stone floor I noticed some unfamiliar but familiar faces still awake from the night before; they were the die-hard partiers. That was fine with me. I mean it was a work dinner gone long. I was not regretful that I didn't top off the 3 margaritas, tequila shot, and wine with more. I'm surprised I was only thirsty for hydration and not hanging over a toilet hoping I could delay my flight time.

I rode in a cab with one of the founders of the company. When I first met him the other night at a cocktail reception he was the typical British dry humor type. And when I had more free-flowing wine I became more comfortable with myself and came out with the expected question we all asked of each other when we weren't wearing our lanyard's and name tags: what is it that you do? To which I was embarrassed to learn that he was one of the founders of the company. And when he said not to be embarrassed, that he doesn't go around telling people that, that he prefers to keep that info somewhat reserved, I figured how opposite of my boss is he?

We arrive at the airport and part our separate ways, wishing each other good and safe travels. From my fabulous planning I had close-to-the-entrance-and-exit-seats for both the first and second flights with no one immediately sitting on either side. The extra elbow room was appreciated and I held on for dear life as the cramps were at an all-time high.

I wanted to give my seat up to the quiet man two seats over from me. I wanted to ask if he was new to Boston or visiting for a short time. He craned his neck several times to see out the window which I blocked with my crazy bumpy ponytail and bunched up coat resting on my lap. I tried to lean back to let him see and felt awkward that he was constantly turned my way trying to catch a glimpse of the clouds, the water, the land. The snow.

Fastforward and I'm feeling really hot from being all twisted up in my plane clothes under a blanket on the couch when Bub arrives home. I'm groggy and annoyed that I didn't unpack just a few things so that I could have looked nicer for his arrival. Instead he waited as I put spring-colored tulips in a vase, combed my hair, threw on a skirt and clean sweater with newish heels. I had been in boots all day--with not painful heels--but enough to piss off my feet. But I wanted to step it up. I was home and this was our Valentine's Day.

We hit a favorite restaurant and Bub was extremely talkative. I watched as others packed into the cramped restaurant and rushed to shut the door to keep out the bitter reminder that we're still in winter even though spring is supposed to come soon.

We drank wine, ate appetizers which brought us back to Amalfi Coast memories, and we talked about what we would do this weekend. How we would pick up our house-hunting task and maybe figure things out as we go.

Because this weekend, people. This weekend is here. And it's a long one.

There is a light not too far off into the distance. It's two words. One which starts with a "T" and the other which begins with an "E"--that's right. It's "The End"...

The end of longish days and boozing nights.
The end of dodging my boss' arrogance, strange stares (checking up on me of course--and the famous look up and down at last night's banquet when I strolled in in lace and she looked cheap in a black halter dress appropriate for a borderline strip club--no bitterness there, though...geesh).
The end of standing up for 6 hours with a brief lunch break so that I could be mistaken for someone who works at another company.
The end of dodging the girl I was asked to include in my dinner plans on Monday night because my boss is too "important" and we ran into her that same evening as we were at the same restaurant and she barely acknowledged us in her stupidity of assigning me to watch over her incompetent staff.
The end of listening about how great this event is and how I will get so much out of it when it's been more a waste of time and a reason to keep the alcohol intake high.

We end it with one last dinner. A last supper, if you will, before my flight tomorrow at the crack of dawn. I will go home and watch Oprah, people. I will do nothing. But I will go to the gym because I've been eating and drinking calories on high. I will work from home on Friday because it's time I made a decision to do so like every other bloody person from our office. And I will enjoy that long weekend that I have been craving since last weekend when I stressed so long over this silly trip.

And can I just say that I got the most special gift from Bub for this special love-saturated day? He sent the sweetest note and created the most special album of us through the years--of our international vacations--times spent together--and how we've been through so much.

That's my husband. I can't wait for his hugs tomorrow. Miss you!!! x

Yee-haw, part I

I'm running on V.L.S. or "very little sleep"--I was up at 3:30am--or even earlier since I went to bed at 10pm on Sunday, woke at close to midnight, then at about 2am, then at 3 when Orbitz called to say my flight was on time, then I laid still in bed until the alarm sounded: 3:30am.

Fastforward. I made it. I'm not happy. I'm ready to go home.

My boss acted so inappropriately tonight; apparently I'm a babysitter for her incompetent staff (re: NOT me) and it's currently 11:19pm here and I'm having a hard time typing and including punctuation.

I'm ready to go home. Ready for tomorrow's pointless day of lectures, and the next day's continuing of lectures along with more mindless alcohol consumption and "awards" to digest at a banquet that is more for execs, I'm convinced, than anything.

Call my attitude bad, but I told you I checked out of this place a long time ago. I didn't need a trip to TX to remind me of it.

Bub, I miss you. I'll call you in the morning.

Love,
me

Dreaming

I feel like I cannot be 100% excited that it's Friday since I have an early flight to Texas to dread on Monday. We have to share a room with someone at the hotel and the way the numbers work out, there aren't enough women in the office to plan on requesting to be roommates with. So I have a "random roommate" who I will find out about when I check in. Joy. By random, I mean that the other people I could potentially room with are sales people I might have met once or never at all...

On top of that I will get my period next week (great) and be in cramps hell for the first full day of meetings. That night, we'll have a banquet and I'll probably want to die of stomach trouble and bitchiness. Yay.

I'm trying to feel like I should enjoy the weekend. I have more pampering tomorrow--nails and a hair cut so that I can look my best for when I'm in Texas. Not that I want to impress a bunch of sales people with polished nails and nice grooming, but I'm sure you understand.

So I'm thinking that this time next week--or even a week from yesterday when I'm back--that I'll be in a better state of mind. Back with my husband. Back in the cold. Back for the loooong weekend I am yearning for.

Happy Weekend.

mini rant

I am so exhausted.

I've been working longer hours trying to see the light.

And I don't. And I feel like a fake. Like a pushover. Like a frump.

I am seriously putting a best two feet forward.

My mind is not rewarded. I am not sighing any relief at the end of the day.

It's all corporate bull.

I just need a vacation.