A zit has decided to perch itself on my jawline and it's soooo bothering me. I think once you've survived high school, one should never ever have to deal with these things. And it hurts : (

This weekend I won't be thinking all about how I have to get up at the ass-crack of dawn for a train to take me to NY. That is quite nice, I must say.

This weekend is the last full weekend Bub and I will spend together before mid-October. Gross, I know. He has a bachelor party next weekend and the day he returns I leave for Germany. There should be a law about things like this, but for the first time ever, I think, I'm actually looking forward to the trip.

It is grueling, tiring, exhausting, nerve-wracking, and utterly difficult to spend so much time within the confines of an ultra-large convention center for which you must take a bus to get from one hall to the next, but the time spent in close confines with your, ahem, colleague also makes it trying. And then there's the whole working through Saturday and not arriving home and into the arms of your bub until Sunday afternoon which makes it all the more depressing.

But the Europeans? They know about work. Sure, the smoke clouds you have to cut through as you walk in your super cute outfits while everyone is bustling around isn't glam or nose-friendly, but the drinking which commences as early as say, 10am, or the cocktail parties and treats being passed out at the conclusion of each day are always something to look forward to. I mean, how many times have you gone to a meeting and been asked for coffee or water? Here they ask if white or red suffices or perhaps some fizzy water! How adventurous! And you bet I don't think twice about what to drink while ordering in front of the colleague. No way. This is work, people. And it all comes with the package.

Surely there are other fun things to do besides looking forward to the drinks of choice at this event. Yes, sure. The breakfast at our hotel is TDF. The mini baked goods, samplings of meat and cheeses, and then there's the jelly-sized nutellas that I always scoop up in hopes of having some leftover to bring home.

So now you know that food and drink both excite me...ha.

Then there's the little market outside of the convention center which has many kiosks of crafts made by the locals. I haven't been fortunate to find something here before when I've shopped, but goodness, that's because I have my colleague in tote, distracting me from concentrating on all that is glorious.

Finally, there is this feeling of independence and "I did it" while riding the train alone in Germany. This, "this is my job", feeling. And "I can do anything" emotion. And it feels good. Or perhaps it felt good because I was buzzed at the time and sitting quietly trying to make myself feel better about riding the train alone on a Saturday night while the rest of the world celebrated the end of a work week by, well, not working. But I digress...

So all the work that happens between the TDF breakfast and the drinks and sporadic parties? Well, that's something to feel good about. Important about. Everyone is excited to share what is new and forthcoming and wonderful. And although I often wish I was on the other side of the meeting table sharing the wealth of information I have, the grass is always greener on the other side, now isn't it?

Now only if I were solving problems like world peace or something, then I'd be all set.

Happy Friday, peeps.
+++P.S. Is anyone watching this? If so, thoughts??

Not sure how to feel

I had my review today. That annual thing where you say things about yourself and how great you are in hopes of promotion-ville or raise-ville or fantastic feedback-ville.

After my first review here, I got a raise, but it was a surprise; I expected nothing as I have been in positions where, if you do not get a promotion, you get little or nothing. I expected the latter, but instead I got double the "norm" or whatever that is.

Double.

I was psyched.

And so now as I near my 2.5 tenure here, I waited for something similar. I mean, who knew what the review would bring. I got the juicy raise last year, the office this summer, I was sort of on an up and up.

I got solid feedback and I was reminded of things I did that I forgot I did--and they were good things.

But I left without anything to feel great about--no additional moolah, no promotion, nada.

One thing about where I am in a position is the growth that comes with it. I have grown here, but I'm always looking for the next milestone to reach. And although they hardly (outside of my direct report) promote others, I can't help but wonder what the turning point will be for me here.

What is next?

And I find myself saying that alot lately with not just work, but with my life's path.

I've never been one to plan...I just sort of followed. And I know that's not very creative, but I mean, I went to college because it's expected and it was the right thing to do--at least for me. And then I found my first job, which was what you were supposed to do after you graduated (unless you went to school, but publishing doesn't require it, so there you go), and then I got married to my husband because when you find your love, that's what you do--you don't let them go! And so then you're where I am...at this crossroads where you are the person who has to decide what's next because there is no more flow--I mean, the flow can happen in any number of ways.

Am I beating a dead horse here?

Anyway, all of the above aside, I will leave you with this question:

Where does one find inexpensive, but fun accessories/jewelry? I'm talking a red-beaded necklace or something of the sort? I'm in need of fun items like these. Similar to the Mint Julep's of the world (or the 2 that are in MA)...

Bostonians, speak up! Or else, point me to any good sites for online shopping!

Merci beaucoup!

Tired

I survived the 3:45am wakeup call yesterday, the meetings, the presentation, the boss.

I am still tired.

I prepare now for the 40+ meetings in Germany in less than 2 weeks.

I returned to the office to learn that the one dead mouse they found in a closet adjacent to my office had friends; additional mice carcasses were discovered.

I'm glad I wasn't here for that. I am here, however, for a lingering smell...

We finally painted our kitchen this weekend. It's not quite finished. It's almost done and then there's laundry and cleaning and switching and switching back summer to fall to summer clothes. What is up with the temps?

There has been mulling over of babies, reading of articles about how women are forced to decide between career or baby or both or what? And then there's the whole when you're 27, your fertility decreases. I'm officially old and almost 27 1/2.

Some of you Internets make me feel old in your 24 and earlier ages. What happened to the time?

I know I'm being slightly melodramatic and I know that I'm not old...yet...but I feel it. Planning out things like having babies is serious. I take it seriously. I don't understand how one plunges into this. How does one plunge?

Sex, I can understand, plunging, I cannot.

It's Gabriel

There, I confessed it.

Moving on.

I'm exhausted. Today was so busy with all those meetings I said would eat up my day. And I feel like I can't be 100% psyched for the weekend because come Monday morning, my ass will be up at 4am, not to go to the gym, not to get to work early, but to board a train that will haul my ass to NYC for meetings--more meetings--all day. And my last meeting? Won't end until after 4pm, which means, yay, that will suck. And I don't and can't and won't elaborate that much more except I tried to take my chances with a train ride to NYC instead of flying because I'm so sick of the delays and the pain in the ass that going to the airport is. But seriously, our first meeting requires me to get on the earliest possible train in the history of ever. So I'll be arriving one hour and fifteen minutes early for the first meeting because if I don't plan ahead and be on time which I hardly ever am, I'll most likely be late seeing as how the next train, which would require my being up at a mere hour later--5am, gets me to NY fifteen minutes earlier than when my meeting starts.

Bored yet? I am. Tired yet? I am.

Ugh. Anyone up for caffeine suckage downage at 8am in NY on Monday morning?

Thought so.

Happy almost weekend.

Short 'n Sweet

I'm sipping on a nonfat pumpkin spice latte...

I'm having thoughts about going shopping after work (shocker) in that this week has been torture trying to figure out how not to freeze my buns in the office (hello, it's freezing) and because it is very close to fall, and I should no longer be milking my warm-weather wardrobe.

I went through my casual tops and I seem to have 2 black, 2 green, 2 white/very light, long sleeve numbers and a couple of borderline spring long sleevers-too. How exciting, huh?

I have either summery or wintery cardigans and the new sweater I bought is definitely too warm for now.

So yes, now that I feel good in the shoe department (and I am wearing these today, for the second day in a row, because I love them so much and because they are comfortable which is a hard thing to come by in shoes), I need to concentrate on the stuff that will cover up my underwear while in the office.

The office has been quiet because my boss has been out since Monday. Tomorrow she returns and we have too many meetings planned. More than I usually have in a month. OK, maybe that's exaggerating the facts, but it's a lot and they're practically back to back. And dammit, I was productive this morning and it seems to be waning, my drive, hence the post.

En route to my trip to the bucks that is star for this latte, I called my friend who just had a baby boy. I heard him in the background. I heard her talking about diapers and c-sections, and dialation. I heard her speak the gooey baby talk to this baby whose name I'm fairly sure I'm not a fan of. But I would never ever ever tell her because she is my friend and she doesn't need my opinion about what she named her first born child. And she doesn't read this blog (or so I hope), so I think it's safe to say that.

Anyway, I got a mommy pang while listening to all of this baby talk from her, and that's all I am gonna say about it.

More later.

Weekend Roundup

I left work early on Friday because the boss did and my mind was fried. We decided to walk away from the house I wrote about here. We decided that it's too expensive to chase, but being that it's a divorce situation, we know they must get rid of it and have no other offers on the table. Perhaps it will drop in cost, but for now, we'll continue to enjoy our condo.

I got a manicure just before going to pick up Bub at the train station. When I collected my husband, we went straight to a wine tasting where we were meeting my family to support the organization my sister volunteers at. The organization has to do with animals. The event was held in a hall. The event smelled like animals, namely cat litter.

We left after some tasting and stopped at a local Mexican place for some late dinner before some TV and then bed.

Saturday was consumed by cleaning. Cleaning the new kitchen counters and sink we just had installed. Cleaning the inside and outside of cabinets and reorganizing every item including the 6 boxes of cous cous we didn't know we had.

Bub was a laundry superstar. I had on my sexy plastic gloves for toilet and tub scrubbing pleasure.

Then it was off to 3 grocery stores in search of manicotti squares in order to make dinner for my friend who was visiting from DC.

No one sells damn maincotti, so lasagne was made instead. Bub thought it might be weird since it was a manicotti recipe for which I was making lasagne. I reminded him that manicotti and lasagne are booth NOODLE dishes. It would be OK.

It was OK--in fact, it was delish.

No lasagne leftovers remain.

Yesterday we went to the "Natick Collection" to see the first Nordstrom of Massachusetts. I bought shoes which I am wearing today. And they are glorious. Bub got a new suit. He is just the most handsome man ever in a suit.

We were exhausted after battling the cars and crowds at the newly renovated "collection" (mall!) and headed home. Some more TV and some more cleaning completed the evening. I finally got my Harry Potter books from Amazon and got back to reading where I had left off when I borrowed book 2 on the Cape several weeks ago.

I'm now writing this with 34 emails to follow up on and a bazillion things to do. You can see where my priorities lie. I also have the door shut, my space heater on, and I'm contemplating looking on the Starbucks Web site to pick out a new drink to go get at lunch to keep warm.

Any suggestions? I'm tired of lattes.

Ahhh, Mondays.

Emotionally Exhausted for a Friday

Thank goodness 1/2 this work day is over! I am spent and so is Bub.

We found a house we both really, really like. We can see ourselves and our phantom family living there.

I have become borderline obsessed.

Bub has been doing and redoing and doing again (only to do again) our numbers. We've budgeted every item down to the expensive shampo0 and waxing appointments.

Being a grownup sucks.

We may have to walk away from this one. It could be the right thing to do financially when you already have a mortgage to pay and all the other bills that come with this thing called your life.

But what ever happened to that line your teachers, your parents, your friends, and even those bumper stickers said when you were in predicaments like this?

Where there's a will, there's a way.

Let there be a way.

I've begun...

I've started my fall shopping and I'm looking for inspiration. My first purchase? A Michael Kors flowy, black, top with subtle detail. Perfect to dress up or down; I shall be taking it on my trip to Germany in four short weeks.

Yesterday, I purchased these:

I was looking for something different than my usual flats and I'm hoping (since I haven't yet tried them on) that they won't let me down. They're by Frye, a brand I had't yet encountered.

For some reason finding clothes for the warmer months is easier than finding outfits for the colder weather. Maybe it's the layering and, therefore, the need to have more clothing, but I feel like my cute summer look goes to blah once the leaves change.

Making the annual trek to Frankfurt each autumn is a good reason to shop since everyone who attends the work event wears to-die-for ensembles. Even their hosiery is impressive.

Why, then, can't shopping be my full-time job?

And I just remembered that the black top wasn't my first purchase at all. I have a blue cardigan on the way that I completely forgot about!

9-11

We will never forget.

Sick. Of. It

I don't know how my husband does it. He's worked at the same company for 10 years and he gets up early, puts on a smiling face, and then faces the music.

Me? I must be bored, but I've had it here. And because I've posted pics of myself and feel all paranoid, I'll keep my big mouth shut.

I'm either totally PMSing or way annoyed. I had a chocolate frosted donut this morning too. Despite me feeling the cellulite growing at an alarming rate, I should have enjoyed it way more given that it was the only bright part of my morning outside of reading some funny posts, emails, and remembering that I'm in an office now and can shut the door.

I'd be happy to trade places with Britney Spears, however. I can take her millions and make my hair look 100% better than hers, love my kids, not use drugs, and actually look like I'm having fun on stage. I mean, what gives?

The weekend has finally come

There is something about short work-weeks that make it seem even longer to get to the weekend.

I've just arrived home with the promise of a weekend not fully booked. Of course, the time gets eaten up by something, whether it be have-to-do's or should-do's or a few fun things that steal the time.

I'm still on a Harry Potter kick and I had hoped that the books I ordered earlier this week would have arrived by now. There are plenty of other things I could read, including the book Bub really wants me to, but for some reason I can't get into it just yet. I fear I'll forget what I need to know about Harry in order to continue onto the next part of the story. Silly, I know.

I've been telling people today to brave the heat and stay cool. Although summer is only here until later this month (sadly), after Labor Day I take a double-take at the clothes and shoes people don because, well, it's not summer officially in my book unless it's the months of June, July, and August.

I'll miss the heat, the sigh of relief that I breathe upon leaving the office as I thaw from the generic, stale air-conditioning which leaves a film of morgue proportions on my skin and changes my fingers to a pale purple (it is true).

But with fall comes mystery. As we prepare to step out into chillier nights and darker skies after long days in front of the screen's glow, I recall the fall and all its promise when at college. Pledging for the sorority, blindfolds, drinking from cheap wine bottles while screaming the fight song.

The same crisp air stays with me well into the autumn and early winter seasons. But when winter comes hard, the mystery is gone. All that's left is shivering, bone-chilling, discomfort.

And sometimes snow.

How Do You Know???

So this past weekend, although a relaxing one filled with yummy eating, running and hiking, shopping and napping, it also consisted of vocalizing the results of my soul searching.

On Friday, before being let out of work early (yay!), I opened a fresh word doc to pour all my career options if I were to become prego or if I were to wait. Here's the list in no particular order:

Prego/Have Child NOW:

Freelancing
Going back to work at current job part or full time
Finding a new full/part time job here
Finding a new full/part time job there—move (London?)
Going to school—MFA—teaching?
Applying to law school again?
Opening a business
Staying at home full time; screw work
Moving with family and stay at home

WAIT (do not get prego):

Continuing working at current job
Finding a new job here
Moving, finding a new job there
Freelancing
Opening a business
Applying to school—MFA—teaching?
Applying to law school again

My gut reactions are that I don't want to go to law school. I don't know what my business would be and therefore could not open it, but the bakery idea sounds like it could be it.

I like the idea of writing at home while taking care of little Nora or Curtis...

Part of me just wants to see how it goes--why should I know 100% what I'm going to do? That would just jinx it, right?

So...I took out a pad of paper and started making a list of lifetime goals with Bub on Saturday morning. The list looked sort of like this but had a Courtney/Bub column. And we didn't stop at career, we put down how many kids we think we want, where we think we want our vacation house to be, and yes, at what ages we hope to conceive so as plan out our parenting life.

Parenting life.

Last week I talked to my old college roommate who is due to give birth any day now. When I asked her if she was ready and how she knew she said that she wanted to get her masters, yes, that she wanted to work full time even. But that holding her son in her arms was so much more exciting and fantastic an idea when it came down to comparing that to a cold degree sitting in a frame over her desk.

I understood.

Ladies and gentlemen (or invisible readers anywhere). I think I have successfully planned out how things will look in the future. Though I'm not a mother today, I have heard the words that have been spoken several times to me now: No matter how much you plan for things, things are never quite as they seem and go according to plan. Be open minded.

Now that I've peeled away the anxiety of being in a small condo, being five years out of school, wanting to do so much in life and how and if and when I'll do those things as a parent, too, I'm left with the feelings of concrete and raw "How do you know?" How do you know when you're ready to be a parent, ready to start seriously trying? Ready. Ready. Ready. Should you have read a book about it? Had an epiphany? What?

I get the ovaries humming sensation when I see an adorable baby, wave back at the little girl across the street, say goodbye to the cute little boy I just met at a get together with friends, but I do not get this feeling with every baby and toddler.

I'm terrified. And that's what I'm most anxious about.

So for anyone who's a parent who ever sees this post, please share with me how you know.

Despite my anxiety about this subject in earlier posts, I am truly doing better and feeling like I'm close to knowing how I feel. The terrified part remains...what if I'm not smart enough? Know enough? What if I'm too young, too immature? What if I'm not fun enough? What if? What if?

Someone please tell me something. Tell me anything, even if it's that I'll miss red wine too much while carrying my unborn child or that I shouldn't think I'm too young because hello? I've known my husband 6 years, been married for over 1, and he's ready and I want to be, too.

Please don't judge me. I'm just trying to figure this out.

United Again

Welcome home.

*To protect the identity of my car, I've found a photo that resembles it before it was physically assaulted.

More Stroller Talk

I think the most terrifying thing I can think of happening if we were to have a baby now as opposed to a few years from now is that certain doors will close and when I look back and see that I made that choice, the option will be gone. Or will it?

I'm pretty sure I explained in an earlier post that someone told me that it's about putting off a certain path (school and anything else), and not thinking that the path is not possible after I become a mother.

I have learned that I can look past the issue of having a bigger space in that we've been searching for a new home for a while now, albeit in some form: looking online, somewhat actively looking (driving by houses), very actively looking (attending open houses), and I know that when the right place comes along on the right tree-lined street in the calm, country suburb or within walking distance to the city, we'll be better for it. But for now, redoing some of our kitchen with fresh paint and countertops and assessing what projects we want to do next for the new tenants or for the time being, is okay. I can feel good about that.

Bub and I have known each other six years. I've come to this comfortable lull of work where my my routine, it exists. Is it the perfect, mind-blowing dream job? No, but I don't know what that job is, so if I were to search for it, I'm not sure I could. There are so many ways to go when it comes to life. I always talk about opening up that bakery, and just two short years ago I thought I would be planning for law school. Now? i'm thinking MFA's, freelance, moving to another place, and the list goes on and on.

For others, their 20's are for them. They want to travel. They feel like babies are aliens and they don't get it. I don't get it.

I don't easily let my dreams die. And whether they come true before or after I have children, they'll still thrive in my core.

Being a parent is a path to choose and it opens doors and doesn't necessarily close them. School, tuition bills, opening my own business and the stresses of wondering if it will survive can all exist, so can relocation to another part of the world, but for now, as a 27-year-old woman, what is right? What is selfish? What is next? And what am I waiting for, exaclty? I'm excited to find out.

So to the little boy we met yesterday at Bub's birthday BBQ (no German chocolate cake was made; more on that later), I could take you home and love you as if you were my own because you loved life more than everyone else there. And we'll remember your smile when we think about that night and how the future holds so much for the parents that Bub and I hope to be.

My Chihuahua* Bites!

Bub's birthday is tomorrow and I'm excited because I've finally decided what I'll be making him. No pineapple upside down cakes like last year (although tasty). Bub weighs in on what he wants. It came down to German Chocolate Cake and some Chocolate Chip Sour Cream cake number. Although he hasn't outright said it, I think he's more interested in the German Chocolate Cake. And since it's not my birthday, I haven't said either way what I'd prefer to make, but I vote for German Chocolate Cake, too. The thing is, the recipe I'm using is from Magnolia's Bakery cookbook, a gift from a long-lost friend (who again is now lost) who gave it to me at my bridal shower. So far, other recipes in the book haven't let me down aside from weighing me down with the fat and fat and fat that the recipes often call for (buttermilk, butter, etc.). Anywho.

I went to the grocery store in hopes of getting what I needed for said cake, but should have planned ahead because I couldn't recall what we already had in the house. That on top of the fact that we're in desperate need of regular non-cake related items had me thinking that it's not to be avoided; I'll need to go to the grocery store in the early a.m., hopefully after or before a trip to the gym since hi, I haven't been in almost three weeks. EEEEEEK. Feeling guilty? Scarily, no. I'm making up for it by not eating much and having wine for dinner.

I digress.

Since my lunch plan to go get groceries failed, I hit Starbucks for a piece of reduced-fat coffee cake and an iced non-fat latte (can't they just say "skim latte"?) for lunch. Then I fit in a trip to a nail place literally 2 seconds from my office to get a polish change for my toes.

I had heard good things about the place or mostly non-bad things about it from my co-workers. I just wanted the quick change because my French pedi had gone to hell and I was wearing sandals (because it's a bazillion degrees out) and would be tomorrow and my toes were scary. I have this thing about wearing sandals when toes are not in at least "good" condition, if not freshly painted and in excellent shape. I know, I'm a high-maintenance nails person or H-MNP. So I went and picked out my color and marveled at how I'm so great to fit this into my lunch hour and was not paying a ton for fancy shmancy pedi (if I had more time, I probably would have just had the whole kit and caboodle).

I digress.

So Mr. Polish takes me down to a chair to change my French into My Chihuahua Bites! when I saw three little girls sitting in chairs all having just finished with their pedis.

By the time I got done and went to dry my toes, the three girls had migrated over to the drying area too, and I came to sit across one of the blonde girls. They couldn't have been more than 10. Not triplets, but maybe. Their mother was getting a French manicure. She was very good with them, keeping her eye on things while chatting up another Mr. Polish.

The little girl who sat across from me made eye contact so I smiled. I couldn't see her mouth because she was so short, but she smiled back at least with her eyes. After they were done drying, they were wandering around, waiting for mom. The girl who had sat across from me looked like she might be a cheerleader when she was older. Cute little yellow skirt with matching tank top. Long straight blonde hair and bangs. She loved to have fun; it was apparent.

Another girl had the curly-crazy blonde hair. She might be the tom-boy, sporty girl. She had on her cute little girl clothes and big girl sandals. They really were big girl because they looked like hand-me-downs that had been worn a little but ones which she had not yet grown into. Being a little wild-child (I'm not sure she was, but from appearance, I think she could be), I don't think she cared what she looked like.

Then there was the third girl. AKA the girl who resembled me. Short bob 'do. A bit haute couture for a girl that age (not that I was haute couture, but I was the girl who had short hair at that age out of my friends and sister, although brunette) and then she turns and yes, the glasses. She was the only one of the three with the glasses. She was wearing what I would have worn: Birkenstock sandals just like Mom bought me and jean shorts. From what I witnessed, she was quieter and more withdrawn.

I wondered at what age the woman had her kids. She seemed happy, not that old, and really with it as a parent. She was already figuring out with one of her kids what her daughter would wear on Halloween and telling her not to stress; she had a couple of months! It was still August!

And I was jealous of this mom who could go get her nails done with her girls. Another summer Friday, another day carrying on. Being a parent. No cares about MFA's, work, not going to the gym...

I finished first. My toes were done and I had to be back to work (so that I could write this post) and that family could be left to their own devices. Swimming pools, sunshine, growing up together.


*No, I don't have a chihuahua.

Stuff

While getting ready for work, or simply sulking in bed that ick, it's not Friday or a day off from work and what the fuck?, I think about all the stuff I want to get done at work. Then I get here and, of course, I just have to see who wrote me who's not from work. And then I have to see who posted last night. So here I am now. Here's my post. My stuff.

While we were at the christening, Bub's 25-year-old cousin blurted out: So are you planning on having kids in the future? The room went silent. I was like oh, my, god. What the f? I managed to mumble something like: Yeah, we're going to have a family, we just don't know when.

Can you say pressure? The woman who does my nails, the receptionist at the dentist, and a random woman I met while I was away for work all asked me, Any babies yet? Is it really your business?

I have a to-do list before I go using a stroller. I want to be in a bigger home (a house) since our 1-bed isn't exactly the most ideal place to put things like a crib, changing area, baby clothes (where we'd put those, I don't know--under the bed is already taken), baby stroller/carrier, toys, and so on. I want to paint a nursery, hang a mobile, pick out our rocker and place it just so in the baby's room.

However, a few people, including one friend who has two kids, told me it can be done in our space, our 1-bed condo. Solicited advice? No. Another friend says that the year of the pig (2007) is better than next year (year of the mouse) to conceive and so we should think about trying later this year.

That discussion took place in a public bathroom. Again, advice not solicited.

My other to-do item is to figure out school. What does that mean? Figure. Out. School. Figure out what??

Someone told me that I'm thinking as if I cannot do anything once the baby is born. Instead, I've learned that I'm really feeling that I don't want to do such and such after I have a baby because I won't want to. The motivation will die. The baby will be my universe. Normal, right? Well, in that case, I want to prepare and do all I can now. Pre-baby belly.

I really feel that it's time to assess what the next step is for my career/education/future. As much as I can see myself enjoying staying home and being with a kid, I'd like to stay connected with a world where I feel that I know something, can be good at it, and perhaps do it from my home so as to have both. I think I sound selfish, I know. Bub, I'm sorry!

It's a lot of money, grad school. But I feel like if I put it off, I won't do it. But it's taken me 5 years to get to this point of knowing I want to do something. To be challenged. (Hello and goodbye law school!)

Words and books and reading and writing. Those things I have a connection to in some way. I was the English major, the girl who wrote on random pieces of paper and napkins to get stuff out. The girl who had journals and diaries. The girl who loved to feel moved by words and to be gripped late into the night and (not recently) early in the morning, before brushing my teeth. It was a friend, the story, you went inside and felt what the characters felt.

But can I do it? One program I'm looking at taunts me with the long papers, longer bibliographies, and endless reading. I got my degree in English; why is scaring me? It does.

And then there's part of me that says, why wait to start trying? Bub is older and we don't have to wait for anything. Things will fall as they may and work themselves out. But I don't want regret. I fear it. And I fear I'll be upset if I don't have these items planned out in advance...which begs the question: How do you know when you're ready? Do you feel it? I see strangers' children and I feel all tingly. I held little James Patrick and yes, he's cute, but I was even more confused about what to want and when.

So this is the debate I have. And sure, if we had a baby today, I'd be OK. We'd be OK. But after seeing Bub's cousins (not the one who has the baby), but the young ones who are just starting to figure out what they want to major in in college, where they want to work now that they've graduated college, and what schools they'll apply to once they've finished senior year, I sort of want to go back only to have time to decide all over again.

Update

Hi All,

We were on the Cape with the in-laws and to the christening of Bub's cousin's little boy, James Patrick. He is adorable! It was trying at times being immersed in so much of Bub's family in a concentrated time period and I should be a pro at this since Bub and I have been together for a while now, but I just seem to get so cranky. I really do need some space which I was able to get on the beach with my shuffle and with some Harry Potter. Yes, I'm slow to join all those that have enjoyed the phenomenon that is Harry Potter.

I'm feeling a bit better than I was last week. The flowers Bub sent survived the weekend while I was away and couldn't bring them home since we left straight from work to go away. My car is having surgery as I write this. Well, OK, I don't know about that. But I have the rental car that smells a bit like dog and I've bid my car a big goodbye while it gets some work done. In addition, we are going to see if we can get 1-2 other little imperfections fixed I was OK to live with since they're rather minor, but since I'm now having real work done, I may as well get my Acura baby all gussied up!

I'm strangely sort of *happy*? Wait, that's not right. OK. Yes, I'm OK to be here at work. The office is still heavenly in all its remoteness from the boss. I have a million emails and a ton to do from being out only 1.5 days, but a voicemail from a new contact at an organization we've been working with for a while gives me a sense of renewed hope since the woman who I thought was going to be my contact has given me every reason to find her snobby, stuck-up, and just plain rude. Doesn't return phone calls, emails, and bails on an IN PERSON meeting. Yes, it's true.

I still have a bunch of emails left waiting--some that could break the otherwise OK (happy?) mood I'm in.

My guy's birthday is Saturday. My parents' wedding anniversary is then, too. The eyebrows need help.

It's Monday. I'm ready for a good week. (Knock on wood.)

Aftermath

Thank goodness for car insurance and for companies that do things quick (knock on wood; I don't have my fixed car back already or anything!), but they're starting something on Monday.

Thank you guys for making me feel better. Apparently good things happen when you scrape your car:

You get flowers sent to work to surprise you coming back from the collision center.

They're from my loving and supportive (what scrape? that's NOTHING--so tiny!) husband.

You get a "Don't worry--at least nothing happened to you" pep talk from Mom.

When I had told a couple people at work what happened and Bub already knew, I called my Dad, but when he's in a meeting and says he'll call you back you think you ARE an adult and you CAN act mature. But when he doesn't call back you wonder, what was I going to say? Poor me? So when I talked to my mom later in the day and Dad was out, he called me back when he got home and said "Courtney, that's why they're called accidents."

I woke up depressed. Really, I do need to get a grip.

Oh, and Kwarterlifecrisis? Where did your blog go to? I was looking to read something to make me laugh and it says it's been deleted?! Please share...why? How? Why? Or is my link to it just dumb?

Disaster

It's setting in.

The nauseous feeling.

The upset.

The pissed off.

The really, really, fucking pissed off.

I fucked up my car today.

OK, fucked up is maybe too harsh for what happened.

It's still driveable.

I can still walk.

I hit no one.

I hit no other car.

I fucking hit the corner.

The corner you say?

The corner of a pole.

I do a 3- point turn to get into our assigned space behind home.

It's covered--we appreciate not having to shovel snow or get drenched in the rain.

It's near the trash. We don't likey.

And it's sandwiched between some lady who parks horrendously (is afraid of the CORNER of the pole touching her car--now I see why).

And a beautiful brand new beam-ma-ma.

And so I back out of the spot and do a 3-point turn to depart.

I'm used to this.

It's been years.

Yeeeears.

And so. I back up. And there are 2 beam-ma-ma's behind us. I always hope nothing ever happens to their cars. I take care in backing up.

Lately? I haven't been paying super close attention to backing up. I can feel that it's been enough time to cut the wheel. I realize this is unacceptable and I remind myself of that today.

I did NOT back into their cars. Instead, while in my head, I decided to look ahead, look straight ahead at the right hand turn I would take for the umpteenth time.

Crunch.

CRUNCH, people.

Crunch.

Off to the collision repair shop at lunch I go.

Fighting back tears, I call them on my way to work.

I'm the girl who opened the glove compartment at the light I would turn left at for the umpteenth time, searching. I had tons of papers from past trips to the dealer. I was the girl in a rage trying to find it.

The sticky.

The yellow sticky slick car dude who escorts me to my serviced car at the dealer many times gave me when I squawked at the ding. The DING that I had made with the end of an umbrella putting it into the trunk.

The sticky that now taunts me.

I call the number. Tears are burning the back of my throat.

Get it together, I tell myself.

Get it together.

Jessica, she says her name is.

JESSICA! I need to come in--appointment--car. SCRAPE.

No appointment needed.

I ask if I can come at lunch.

Yes.

I ask if they're going to order shiny new somethings for my car.

I ask to come at lunch.

She wants me to stop talking, to hang up.

I am the girl who honked at you when you didn't put a blinker on in a bottle neck and debated whehter or not a trip to Dunkin Donuts was better than driving properly. I honked and then laughed at myself.

They will stare and see maniac driver. Maniac driver with a wheel well and 1/2 a passenger door scraped. A small piece of metal mangled.

I looked so quickly. Maybe it's not bad. Maybe.

I turn my right side mirror down. I can't see anything. Is it supposed to look like that?

I pull into the parking lot at work. I park in the last row. I will not wear my shame publicly unless it's to the strangers that pass me on the highway, the backroads, those that will see the car in our space at home.

I park and I sit and then I go face the disaster.

Get a grip. It's not Cancer.

But it will be expensive.

The Office

People, life is grand. I awaited the very moment when I could type this post from the surrounding silence that is my office.

Yes, I'm in my brand new office. Well, it's not quite brand new as it was an office for the person who used it before me, but let me tell you that this is such an accomplishment for me. If only a promotion or even a raise accompanied such a move, it would be perfect. You never know.

You see, when I started working here just a little over two years ago, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that we would receive our own laptop to be upgraded every so often so as to stay on track with the latest models. I was so excited by this as that that begged the question: can I work from home and not come into the office? I can take this wherever I wish and yada, yada, yada.

Then I was shown where I was to work with my shiny new laptop and I was so anxious to see which office I would get as the whole department was a series of window and windowless separations for hard work and conference calls. Except, I was lead down a hall to a table similar to ones used for a bake sale. A few office supplies sat and a chair was nearby, too.

The conditions were not even up to par for a temp or intern; what the hell was going on?

Little did I remember of the small talk I made during one of my interviews. It came back to me: renovations, new offices, and furniture. Moving to another area. Yada, yada, yada.

We moved to a series of cubes while the renovation took place. And the bottom line? I was given a cube in a sea of offices. Sure, there were other cubes around in other departments. And three. Not one, but THREE offices were vacant for at least six months in our department as I was told no, these were for managers--more senior level people. Um, my title has manager in it.

So my boss tells me that she's doing what she can to get me an office (this is after I've been in the cube well over a year). Great. Where was she going to stick me now that there were no vacant offices? I had just as many conference calls as her which was fun when I was trying to hear and had everyone communing in the hall (right by my DESK) to chat about the upcoming weekend, Red Sox game, you name it. So that all ended quickly; I soon took all important scheduled calls to the (you guessed it) conference room.

But then something happened! We acquired another company. Changes. And I hear that someone is going to switch their job within the company and be working remotely permanently.

That was leaked to me two months ago. After a ton of "When do you think you'll be moving your stuff out?" I'm now here. Finally.

And now it's me who can shut it all out: conference calls other people are on, my boss beckoning me to come into her office, people socializing, with a turn of the knob and the closing of my door.

Happy Friday.