Happy bloody Memorial Day

Right as Brian was running around yesterday getting ready to leave, I went to the bathroom and saw that my period was in the process of arriving. The scary part was the almost absolute emotionless reaction I had. Considering I didn't once for a minute believe I was pregnant this time, I guess it's not too surprising. I could tell he felt bad but I didn't want to make a big scene right before he left to drive two hours to see family, so I didn't. After he left though, and it started raining and I went to the bathroom again just to confirm what was true, I thought, Wow, I wonder if this day could this day suck any more? No, I don't think it could. Then I accidentally rammed my toe into the cabinet under the bathroom sink and thought, Ahh, yes.

I half-assed started cleaning up, but my heart wasn't in it anymore. Which now that I think about it, I actually was reacting to getting my fucking period; I just wasn't really allowing myself to acknowledge it too much. But when I woke up from a three hour nap, I was ready for the pity party to be done with. Each of the last two times this has happened, all I wanted was to be left alone for the day and hey, here I was. I spent the rest of the day doing laundry, reading, making potato salad in honor of it being a cook-out holiday and renting a non-Brian movie off of PPV, Rachel Getting Married, which was good and worth the $3.99.

Today I'm one of a small skeleton crew here at work, which is a good mix of being out of the house and also somewhat left alone. It hasn't been the kickoff to Summer celebration weekend for me that it is for most people, but this has never been a significant holiday for me anyway, so it's fine. I'm thankful to all our vets, but I live with a man who watches the History Channel a lot and get plenty of opportunities to be thankful and cry for them.

The highlight so far has been my cousin Scott emailing to let me know there's a Land of the Lost marathon on the SciFi channel today and he's ecstatically introducing his older daughter to what used to be our favorite show when we were her age. I'm looking forward to watching a couple of episodes when I get home and I'm damn sure going to see the movie when it comes out, even though I know it'll be nothing like the show. Scott and I used to "play" Land of the Lost and the most fun part was always going over the waterfall. Now it's being described as a "cult classic," so I doubt anyone knows what the hell I'm even talking about so I'll stop.

I'm looking forward to Brian coming home this afternoon. I did fine without him, what with avoiding getting murdered in the shower while home alone and all, but yeah, life is much more fun with him around. I don't know what's next on the baby agenda, but I'm finding it difficult to care right now. Life goes on and it's still better than the alternative.

Whoa, can you FEEL the ennui?

I'm fine. Really.

And I miss her like hell too

We all know by now how I feel about becoming a mother. Not only for the past six months of actively trying (like a bitch), but really it's been a big thing for me for the better part of the last decade. I know some women who don't have the desire and I fully respect that choice. They've made a decision that's the best for them and I'm happy for them, just as I am for the ones who wanted and became mothers. For me however, I konw it would be the most rewarding and amazing thing I could ever experience. So, you know - no pressure or anything.

But. I can say I've been lucky enough to have a God-daughter (unofficial; sometimes she calls me her other mom, sometimes her aunt) in my life for the past thirteen (almost fourteen!) years and it's a relationship that has added so much to my life, it's indescribable.

Her name is Elizabeth (a.k.a. Lizard) and this is an email she wrote me a few months ago:
Kimmy you are like my second mother, you have been there for me through everything in life, well maybe not everything but pretty darn close. And i know you didn't get to come school shopping this year but in the dressing room while i was dancing in my underwear and a babydoll shirt i thought of you and how you always sat in the dressing room and every year told me how big my boobs have gotton and today i missed you alot. And even though the older i get and the earlier school starts i will always call and sing to you just to remind you that i love you and i always will and to be honest i think you are my favorite adult well besides my mom obviusly but seriously you never actually talk to me like i was a kid or anything you always talked to me as if i was one of your closet friends or something and thats why i think i'm so damn i mean darn cool. and now looking back on all the years of school shopping and missions and weekends and birthday parties and basicly life now i'm noticing how blessed i am to have somebody like you in my life and how much i appriciate all the stuff you have done for me. Well i love you and call me later.
Do you see? This kid means the world to me; there have been few people who have made me laugh as much as she does. One of the hardest things about moving 400 miles north was knowing I wouldn't be involved in her life on an almost daily basis anymore. It still stings a lot.

Whether or not I ever get the honor of being someone's mother I recognize I've aleady been blessed.

Bok bok

In honor of Easter MONDAY (When the hell did this start? I must know) and the Cadbury vs. Reese's debate I spoke of a few days ago, I bring you a blast from the past, especially for those of you who are close to my age:



I gots some other stuff to say later.

And a Good Friday to you too

I'm disappointed to report that last night went really well and I had a great time. The service was good, the food was good and there's nothing to make fun of. I hate when that happens. While his parents did indeed tell everyone they introduced me to that I'm Jewish, it wasn't awkward or embarrassing, but made me feel something like pride about my family and my roots. My dad would've been really excited to hear all about it. And when the lady sitting next to me said at the end of the night, I feel so lucky to have met you and that I got to sit next to someone who knew so much about this, I may have even gotten a little teary. Hmph.

Of course she did also ask the Number One Most Popular Question I will forever and always get asked: Do you all have any children? I don't know why I still get suprised when this happens, but either way his parents and I shared a little private laugh and I told her, Not yet but we're working on it with a lot of dedication right now.

I learned a couple of interesting things too (remember that I am a religious retard so any discoveries I make is most likely stuff everybody else already knows): that Jesus' Last Supper was also a Passover seder and that he died at 3:00 p.m. the next day (Good Friday). I knew the day; I didn't know the time. I like knowing things like that. I also like that while I used to think Brian's and my religions were polar opposites, I now know that isn't true and it's nice they go together so seemlessly. Things may have been trickier if he was a Muslim and I was a Jew - I could see the potential for some awkwardness there.

There are still a lot of things I'm not sure about with what my stance is regarding religion. Many, many questions and a few issues. But in the meantime, I enjoy the occasional trip to church with his parents and also the actual church itself. Which is a good thing, because we'll be back there again on Sunday. Twice in one week - God, are You seeing this? I promise I'm not trying to butter you up for any Big Thing I may be asking of You lately; it just so happens the two holidays fell really close together this year!

Other than church activities, I don't have much planned for the weekend. We're still in a financial quandry thanks to that piece of shit we call a truck, so that tends to put some limitations on entertainment choices. It's okay though; I'm about to make myself presentable enough to go to the library, where there are many free books sitting there waiting for me to pick them up. And as I've said before, as long as I have a good book, I will never be bored.

Of course there's plenty of house and yard work to be done as well, but let's not get crazy.

Oy - tonight we'll knosh until we plotz

Yiddish words are so much fun.
Well the day is finally here - tonight is the church Passover dinner, which is sure to bring the laughs. I guess it's sort of a big deal to me as well, as I feel we've come a long way from when I felt like the black sheepess of the family, with their oldest son living in sin with a Jew and all. From when the first time I ever visited his mom and George's house and noticed a book titled "How to Lead Your Jewish Friends to the Messiah," displayed surreptitiously on their coffee table. Back then there was a lot of tentativeness from them, with conversations like this:

Iris: I'm sorry if you can't eat this Kim ("Kee-yim,") but I put bacon in the potato salad
Me: That's okay; I'm not a practicing Jew and I love pork.
Iris: Well, I made a ham too; is that okay?
Me: ...

and

George: What tribe in Israel does your family descend from?
Me: I didn't know they had tribes in Israel, so I have no idea. Leviticus?

(Brian later confirmed there are indeed tribes that Jews come from and what's sad about that is he has a lot more knowledge of Judiasm than I do, thus he makes me look bad.)

I'm sure there's potential for some awkwardness tonight as well however, as George has little to none in the social filters department. I can picture him introducing me to people repeatedly and gleefully telling them I'm Jewish. In fact I know he will. Sort of different but also similar, a few weeks ago they had their next door neighbor over for Sunday "dinner." (I will never say that without quotation marks). When he introduced us, George told the guy I used to live in upstate New York. This guy is from Michigan. From what I can tell, Michigan is a long way from New York so I wasn't quite sure how to respond and neither was the neighbor. One thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, except maybe we're both Yankees in George's mind and so there was potential for bonding? Also please note I lived in New York the first five years of my life and then lived and grew up in Florida. I guess he saves that part for when he introduces me to anyone from anywhere in the south. But I'm already prepared for the weirdness tonight, so no problem. I do wish I had this shirt to wear tonight though:

Not that any of the Baptists would get it. Catholics would, because like Jews they are very wise in the ways of the guilt. I always say the only difference is Jews are born with it and Catholics have to go to school to learn it - ZING! I crack myself up.

We'll probably join them at church on Sunday as well to celebrate Easter. I gots to have all my bases covered, yanno? Plus I've always loved Easter. Which side are you on as far as Cadbury vs. Reese eggs? For me it's Reese's all the way. (I'm sure Heather will pick Cadbury because she likes being ornery that way with me, hee hee!)What the F is up with that yellow shit in the middle of the Cadbury? I know it's supposed to be yolk, but EWWWW. And if the white stuff is marshmellow, well then I hate marshmellow so there you go. Sister developed a little problem with Peeps a few years back and I'm not sure if she's yet to be able to be in the same room with them again without gagging, but again no marshmellow for me. I will roast them and hand them to you all day long but I refuse to put a black charred sticky sugar blob in my mouth hole ever. They are acceptable in Rice Krispie treats and that is all.

And for now, that IS all.

April Foolish

I've been sitting here trying to think up some funny April Fool's joke, but I'm having problems thinking of anything that doesn't involve a bodily function (as is my way), and nothing is even sounding funny to me, so screw it. I feel all jinxy right now anyway, so saying something like "I just pooped my pants!" even if it's followed by a sheepish "Naw, April Fool!" I'd be scared the rest of the day of pooping in my pants.

My dad LOVED this holiday and in particular having me be the sole recipient of his jokes. Every year it was something: rigging my bathroom with boobytraps: a cup of water falling on my head when I opened the door, Saran wrap on the toilet seat, no water coming out of the faucet and "The Fool Was Here" written in soap all over the mirror. That was funny. Once he hid my car; parked it around the back of the house so that when I walked out to go to school, I had a heart attack, while he watched from the front window laughing his ass off. Even when I was on vacation away from home once he packed a bunch of plastic spiders in my suitcase and coordinated it with my boyfriend at the time to have it scare me on April 1st. I'll admit it - I miss that a lot. All those things were good, but one year he lost his mind and went to the extreme.

I was eleven years old and completely obsessed with The Dukes of Hazzard. My sister and cousins will verify this if you have any doubts. Posters - not only all over my bedroom, but also all over my bunk bed area in our motorhome. Teen magazine collages abounded. Every Friday night at 8:00 without fail, was the highlight of my week and I was not to be interrupted by anyone (not much has changed there, but at least now there are dvr's). I was all about Bo in particular, but loved them all; that show was my everything. We still had antenna then and only got reception on the three main networks, which was jolly good by me, as long as CBS was one of them. One dark sad night a train went by just as the show was starting, we lost reception and couldn't get it back for hours. Unexplained to this day and also obviously very scarring to me, since I remember it.

We lived in Wildwood, Florida at the time and my dad was the golf pro at the local country club. Someone passed the information along that some relatives of Tom Wopat, the guy who played Luke Duke, were members of our club and lived nearby. It was rumored that Tom himself also had some property and a house there and I don't remember how but we did end up confirming that was true. Strangely a few years later when we lived thirty miles west in Inverness, we met the guy who played Roscoe P. Coaltraine (and the dog who played his hound dog Flash who was also his dog in real life but who was a girl dog) who had a house THERE. I don't know what it was about small little bumpkin Florida towns and the cast of that show, but apparently they loved the area for whatever reason.

Did you know John Travolta has a house in Ocala, right there as well? That has absolutely nothing to do with this story, but it just surprises me so many of my celebrity boyfriends lived so damn close by yet we never met and had the romantic times I dreamed about. Sucks.

Anyway. A few days before April Fool's, Dad started really bringing up the whole Luke Duke thing, saying we'd have to ride around and see if we could find his house (stalkers!) or maybe see if he liked golf and give him a free round, etc. Assuring that I was in a highly agitated state, right up until the day I got home from school and my mom told me my dad had a surprise for me. Hmm? Yes. She told me she wasn't sure, but she thought my dad might have found Luke and was maybe bringing him to our house?

Wait, WHAT?

She said, "Now don't get too excited, Daddy's just going to try." Too excited? Oh, but it was already well past that point. I did what I always do in those situations and went straight to the toilet. Then after that I went directly to my room and shut and locked the door. I had to get a grip on all this somehow, because I was straight losing my shit. (Literally)

Then I heard it. Remember the Dukes' car, the General Lee? Of course you do. Remember how the car horn played "Dixie?" That was the sound I was currently hearing and it was coming from my very own driveway. I don't think I actually shit in my pants, but I came pretty damn close. I know I made some high pitched squealing sounds. Then I dove into my closet and slammed the door shut, refusing to come out. I'd like to think I've matured and could handle something like that better nowadays, but I wouldn't bet the farm on it.

I don't remember how, but they finally got me to come out. My dad was pretty much crying he was laughing so hard. He led me outside to the driveway, where the only car there was his little red Fiat. Wha? He leaned in the window and beeped the horn. And it played "Dixie" again. He spent $80 (and remember this is 1979 or thereabouts; that was a good amount of money back then, at least for our family) to get this horn and have someone hook it up to his car, all for a joke on me. The horn played something like a hundred different songs, but he bought it for one song. You would have thought I'd be mad at him for not delivering Luke Duke to me, but actually all I felt was relief. As much as I loved those Duke boys, I guess that love had to be from afar for me to be able to deal with it.

My dad was so awesome. He got the biggest kick out of making me laugh. I miss the hell out of him.

I didn't mean to make so many references about pooping in pants. I'll try to avoid that going forward.

Pat's a saint but I ain't

I had mentioned something awhile back about this whole Operation Knocked-Up schedule interfering with St. Patrick's Day. Gone are the days when drinking was a common occurance for me and now it's pretty much relegated to special occasions, i.e. my fortieth birthday, going out in a boat, maybe the 4th of July and St. Patrick's Day. I managed to forget about it in the meantime. Until ten minutes ago.

Delorme's birthday is tonight and a month ago I already knew what I was going to get him. He loves this German beer called Maisel's Weiss; he introduced it to me on my birthday and I liked it a lot too. Or at least I think I did; it's hard to tell how things taste after five or ten shots. He discovered the beer while traveling in Germany and gave me the whole history of touring the company's brewery, meeting the owner, etc. but I can't remember the any more of the details because I was really drunk. But, having a mind like a steel trap, I did remember he told me it's really hard to find around here and the only place he knew sold it is Greene's Liquors. That place happens to be .6 miles from my office, so a little while ago, I ducked out for a few minutes to go purchase the birthday beer.

It's weird, but even though I don't really drink anymore and am not a big fan of alcohol in general (see: Lushy Mother), I have a strong fondness for liquor stores. The smell, the neon signs, all the pretty bottles and always so many choices. The employees are always in a good mood (hmmm, suspicious) and knowledgable. And this place is friggin' HUGE - it's like the Disney World of booze. The store is divided into two separate sections; one for alcohol and the other beer and wine. Of course I walked into the wrong side first, but I looked around for a few minutes to see what new and exciting things are available and there are quite a few. I then went to the beer side and found what I was looking for immediately, which makes me think I have a nose for this type of thing which makes me worried. But it didn't matter - there was a distinctly festive air about the place - it was pretty damn crowded for an early Friday afternoon during Spring Break, everyone was wearing green beads and hats and t-shirts in preparation for the St. Patrick's Day thing in Five Points tomorrow...it was all so damn celebratory.

We're not going to the St. Patrick's Day thing tomorrow, because we promised we'd help the rednecks finish moving into their new trailer. Also because it's one big day-long drunkfest, which is fine if you're drinking, but probably not as enjoyable if you're not. I will try to block out the memories of last year and years' past with how much fun this day always is. Luckily the weather is supposed to be shitty so that'll help.

So, pretty much, no St. Pat's celebrating for me. And you know what? If there is something actually growing in my uterus I will be completely fine with that. If there isn't, I'm going to hurt someone; just add this to the list of reasons.

But nobody is going to stop me from wearing green and cooking corned beef and cabbage Tuesday. Take away all the alcohol you want, but do not take away holiday food. And if you've ever heard anything about corned beef not being good for you if you're pregnant, please...please keep it to yourself. No. Tell me. Seriously.

Stream-of-psycho-ness

My first thought upon waking this morning: "What in the fuckity FUCK am I about to do???"

I'd like to say things have improved from there, but I don't like to lie. To give you a little glimpse into the psychosis, I'm pretty much veering back and forth between, "What if it doesn't work? to What if it DOES??" The best way I can describe it is I feel like I always do when I'm about to get on a plane - only without Xanax this time. And after checking the weather report and seeing there will be storms and turbulence the entire flight.

I wish I knew how to meditate - don't you just sit there Indian-style and go, "Om?" with your eyes shut? Because I just tried that and it didn't work and my foot fell asleep.

The times when you need drugs the most? Are always the times you can't have any. The irony does not escape me.

I put my lunch together this morning; soup, crackers, yogurt. As far as I can figure it's still sitting on the kitchen counter and I'm now eating a slice of pizza. Which, had I thought about it, I should've gotten sushi for lunch, because duh. That's one of the no-no's just in case I do happen to catch pregnant tomorrow. Not that I really want sushi, but I know once I can't have it, I'll want the hell out of it. I know me. I know me very well. By the way, does anyone know if you're allowed to eat tuna fish? I can never remember that and I'm avoiding looking anything up online that is pregnancy-related. Don't want to jinx anything.

Psst, anybody got a sedative? Ha, kidding! I wouldn't take one if you flipped it into my mouth with a Quaalude chaser and a nice cold crispy caffeinated Coke to wash it all down with! And if you believe that one, I have a stimulus package I'd like to sell you.

I figured writing would help. I figured wrong.

Uh...what else? Oh yeah. The Beatles thing was cool last night. It would've been a lot cooler had they played Come Together, Helter Skelter, Help, and Lucy in the Sky. I told HeatherI knew better than to hope for Dear Prudence, Blackbird and Norwegian Wood; I'm not stupid. But those others I thought would be pretty standard ops for a Beatles-esque experience. But they didn't consult me. A bonus was the first part of the show they were backed by the South Carolina Philharmonic Orchestra - way cool. A bonus-opposite was our seats were at the very front of the balcony section and while making our way to them I got the worst case of vertigo/acrophobia (fear of heights - I just looked it up) and then claustrophobia I think I've ever had. It only lasted a few minutes, but damn; have you ever had to keep your shit together for a short period of time in public but you knew any minute there was potential to Make a Scene? I was so on the verge. I'm really happy I didn't. I remembered Laura'sthoughtful pot post yesterday and at that moment was EXTREMELY thankful I wasn't high like I totally would've been back in the day. That would've been bad news bears.

It's been a long time since I've partaken in the weed, but I bet starting tomorrow I'll want some. Weed, sushi, coffee, tunafish...And by the way - who in their right mind tries to get pregnant this close to St. Patrick's Day, dumbass!? I drink like twice a year and this holiday is one of the days. Idiot. Well, we only have plans so far to go to a pre-St.-Pat's party this weekend, so I'll just buy some Sprite and green food coloring and be done with it. And oh yeah, ha-ha, if Brian thinks he's getting drunk on St. Patrick's Day, he can kiss my blarney stone. It's all about the spousal support, right?

Did you know Daylight Savings Time starts back this coming weekend? Who's the d-bag who decided to make it so early this year? After having it start so late in the Fall. I know there's like one or two states that don't observe it - someday I will move there. It's horseshit.

My mom asked me if I wanted her to drive up here for the procedure tomorrow. Ha! But I guess to you, the untrained ear, that sounds like a very nice offer, right? Well, just so's you don't think I'm a heartless bitch, let me tell you the rest of the story (damn, Paul Harvey died the other day, sad) before you judge me. I thanked her but told her it's not necessary right now (leaving out of course the fact Brian's mom is coming with us) but that hopefully it'll work and she can come up to go to an appointment with me later down the road when there will be more exciting things happening than a five-minute proceedure and we won't even know anything for two weeks. She then started to drunk-cry (it was an hour past vodka:thirty - I should've known better than to call that late) (late being 7:30) and tell me she feels guilty. Because all this? The reason I haven't had a baby yet? Is her fault. Yes. Do you not know how a martyr's mind works? Everything bad is because of them/happens to them/whatever to them, but it's ALWAYS about them. Nevermind that she actually DID have two kids without the benefit of fertility technology back then. No. That doesn't matter. She had "problem" pregnancies (I wanted to suggest that perhaps cigarettes and booze probably weren't the best choices, but of course I didn't) and because of her problems, my life has been incomplete.

'Ludes? Anybody? No? Okay.

All right. Well, I guess I should probably try and do something productive, even if that just means I manage to appear normal for the remainder of the time I have to be at work.

If you get a chance tomorrow morning around 11:30, say a little prayer for me. I heard that on the radio a little while ago and can't stop singing it so wanted to pass it along to you. But seriously. Thanks for sticking around through all this weirdness; it really means a lot.

See you on the flipside.

There's no way I'd Pass this Over!

One of the few Jewish holidays we celebrated in my family was Passover. For those of you who aren't familiar with the ways of the Jew, here's a brief def:
A ceremonial dinner (Seder) that commemorates the Exodus (mass escape) from Egypt and includes the reading of the Haggadah (a little booklet written in Hebrew with English translations for us normal people) and the eating of symbolic foods, generally held on the first night of Passover.

Basically it's like what every other Jewish holiday represents: They tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat. When my dad was younger, his family took the dinner extremely seriously, was mind-numbingly boring and lasted for hours. He hated it and didn't want it to be like that for us and so he kept it brief and simple. He read only the main prayers that thanked God for safely getting us the hell out from under Egyptian slavery. We got the symbolic food out of the way first and then we were able to enjoy the rest of the dinner while also drinking the sweet grape and blackberry kosher wine throughout the meal. By the end of dinner we were always drunk, full and happy. It's one of the family traditions I treasure the most.

So yesterday I got an email from my mother-in-law letting me know their church is planning to have a Seder this year to recognize Passover. Weird, but okay. She thought of me (natch - I'm the only Jew she's ever known) and said she'd love for me and Brian to go. She said there would be no southern cooking that day, just "Jewish food." It was thoughtful of her and there's no way I'd dream of missing this. But I'm not going for any nostalgic reason she's probably imagining. A Passover Seder in a Southern Baptist church? The potential for unintentional comedy that day will be endless.

For one thing, I can't wait to see what their version of Jew food is. I can hear the ladies in the church kitchen now:
Ida? You reckon we should fix these MOT-SO balls like we do dumplins? And what about this "unleavened bread" foolishness? Them silly Jews didn't have the sense Jesus gave them to finish the job and BAKE the bread?

Well of course they didn't, Betty! They's the ones who KILLED our Jesus, remember?

(Betty gasps)Oh lawsie, you're right, Ida! Well then why the dickens are we troubling ourselves to fix all this peculiar food for OUR Sunday dinner? I don't mean to be ugly, but I don't approve of this at all. This here is Christ-killer food! I can tell you one thing: I'll be sneaking in some fried chicken, butterbeans and cornbread for us!

Good idea, Betty, good idea. I'll bring the biscuits and slaw and you and me can just have us our own little private CHRISTIAN dinner, just the way Jesus would've wanted it.

If I had any balls at all, which I don't, I'd act the total fool:
What kind of shit is this - GRAPE JUICE instead of WINE??? And OY, you are sadly mistaken if you think this passes for matzo ball soup, you schmucks!
And oh yeah, Betty and Ida? I heard your cracker asses in the kitchen a little while ago so let me set you straight on something; WE didn't kill Jesus, the Romans did. You may want to do a little Old Testament reading, since YOUR Bible is actually the sequel to OURS!

Oh come on; you know I'd never do such a thing, at least not while sober. It's just something that will be fun to imagine that day. I'm sure there will be enough raw material floating around I won't even have to come up with my own. I can't wait.

Mystery! Intrigue! Laziness! Presents!

With the dog hurting himself last weekend, my dreams for a family roadtrip on my birthday were squashed, just like last year when I met my friend Jen in Savannah instead of going north to the mountains. Is there some evil force keeping me from seeing over an inch of snow? It's starting to look that way. But I didn't want to leave him with Brian's parents again (since-that's-who-he-was-with-when-he-hurt- himself-not-that-I'm-blaming-them-but-you-know-what-I-mean) and taking him with us was in the original plans but he's still limping, I decided staying home was the only option. It was still a nice day.

Brian had to work in the morning, so I slept late. He came back bearing gifts and those gifts were a bunch of dvd's he knew I'd love and a little exercise gadget I've been wanting, one of those calorie counter things I keep seeing on The Biggest Crybaby. I guess he's taking me seriously when I tell him I'm starting to exercise again. He's always been an optimist that way. He also brought home burgers, fries and Cokes, which is my favorite birthday lunch.

We watched Baby Mama, which was better than I thought it would be - surprising. Tina Fey is genius at portraying the late-thirties baby obsession that takes over while you're not paying attention. In one scene she's in a crowded elevator with a lady holding a baby standing in front of her. She reaches out and touches the baby's hand and then secretly sniffs the baby's head; kind of creepy and totally real. Brian looked at me during the scene and I said, Yes. That shit is REAL. He then asked me what was up with her since her character on 30 Rock is also trying to adopt a baby and I told him she's fine; she's married and has a baby in real life. Because I probably know a little too much about her, but it comes in handy for situations like that.

I checked my email that evening and found out work had been trying to get ahold of me but my voicemail box was full. Oops. A lot of people had called and text'd (what is the past tense of text, dammit, becaused "texted" looks stupid) to leave me birthday messages and that made me very happy. But apparently someone had sent flowers to me at work, not knowing I wasn't going to be there yesterday. Was it you? I can't figure it out. They stored them in the cold supply closet for me to help keep them from wilting, but I'm going to take a ride over there today and get them so I can bring them home and stare at them. I like flowers. And I can't wait to find out who sent them!

My friend Johnann sent me a bunch of books from my Amazon wishlist that I've plowed through while still avoiding Twilight. Even so, we're planning a Barnes & Noble date today, as one can never have enough books; I need to buy one for Brian for V-day as well. Annette always gets me Office-related merchandise, but this year she decided to cover all the shows and got me a cool (literally because it's the kind you stick in the freezer so it can keep your drinks cold) mug with the NBC logo on it. She and I are proud Peacock geeks. Before we had cable, NBC was the only channel we could pick up and I was frighteningly fine with that, since that's what 90% of the things I watch are on. I know Heather was naughty and is sending me a birthday box and unlike the one I sent her, I'm sure everything she planned on putting in it will be in it. Does anyone know where four bottles of OPI nailpolish could have run off to, because THEY WEREN'T IN HER BOX AND I DON'T HAVE THEM EITHER. Ahem, sorry. That is the kind of mystery I don't enjoy. And of course my mom sent me a Walmart gift card, because she knows depending on our finances, I'll either spend it on something for myself or on groceries, which also counts for myself. A grocery trip without worrying about over-spending is a very exciting thing to me. I am easily pleased, which makes for a lot more fun and a lot less disappointment in life.

And this morning upon sitting down to the computer, I saw a big red stuffed heart with sneakers on waiting for me - I'm guessing that had to be from Brian or I'm REALLY going to be mystified. I tell him every year not to acknowledge Valentine's, since I feel my birthday is the more important of the two holidays, but every year he gets me a little thing anyway. He's cool like that.

It's been a nice celebratory weekend so far; I hope everyone else's is too.

I beg of you Bono, get out of my head

"...All is quiet on New Year's Day..."

God, I fucking HATE that song! Every year it's the same thing. I wake up and think, "It's New Year's Day," then here comes that hateful song, unbidden and unavoidable, my annual earworm. I'm about to put some music on both to drown out that and the endless, nonstop fucking football commentary. I like when my husband is happy and excited, but his infatuation with the SEC runs my nerves pretty thin roundabout this time every year. But, bowl games. I understand. I'm not going to deny him his fun. I'm just going to live in other parts of the house all day or until it's over.

For the first time in years we went out for New Year's Eve. (Oh my God -don't...think...of...song...) It was alright, nothing spectacular. Friends of ours were having a smallish get together, cocktails and fancy food but casual dress. I'm not socially inclined to begin with, and the absolute worst moment for me is walking into a small party already in progress. Once that's over, I'm fine. The guys congregate around the TV which of course has a football game on and the women do food preparation-type things and sip drinks in the kitchen. Their house is nice and open, conducive to the kitchen and living room people interacting with each other.

So picture that scene, with me assisting with chopping vegetables next to a woman I'd never met before. We're making small talk and she seems nice. Out of nowhere she asks the question. You know the question. The one I am destined to get asked Every. Single. Time.
"So, do you all have kids?"
The hostess, knowing our situation, shoots me a quick apologetic look.
I answer.
"Not yet. But we're trying." Then for comedic effect, I add "We're trying REALLY HARD AND REALLY OFTEN."
All noise ceases in the living room and the men all look up. Finally some guy says, "Well, that's a good way to do it." Awkward laughter ensues.

I just don't get it. I mean, it doesn't bother me so much now that we're actively doing something about it and the odds are better than they've ever been, but I cannot FATHOM asking someone that question within seconds of meeting them. It's happened to me so many times for the nearly ten years we've been married.
Me: Hi, nice to meet you; this is my husband Brian.
Whomever: Do you have any kids?

What if, God forbid, we COULDN'T have kids. Like, no shot, ever. What if a woman wants to be a mother more than anything in the world and can't and is walking around heartbroken over it every day. WHY would you just bust right out with that question? I guess it's a social tool, an ice-breaker, searching to bond over something with someone new. Oh, you're a parent - me too! Isn't procreation the best ever? How many hours of labor did you have? Stretch marks and diapers and breast pumps, oh my!

As it turns out, this woman and her husband tried for twelve years before seeking treatment similar to what we're doing and were finally successful. That was nice to hear. Had we been talking for an hour or so already and the subject came up, I would've been much more receptive to discussing it and I did end up having a good conversation with her. Without everyone in the house listening in. We even found out we both work at the college; wow, cool. There's something in common that isn't such a personal matter - where do you work. At USC? Oh, I do too! Isn't the pay sucky but the paid vacation time great?

But I think I have it figured out. The next time someone asks me if I have kids I'm going to deflect the question with, "So, what's your favorite sexual position? I like starting with missionary and ending with doggie."
I mean if we're discussing babies and the making of, that's fair game right?

We were nervous about being out on one of the drunkest nights of the year, when the cops are just itching to fuck with as many people as possible. It's a thirty mile drive to their house, so we left at eleven to make it in before midnight. We saw no less than six cops on the way home, four of whom had people pulled over. It was nerve-wracking. He'd only had a couple of beers, but I had nothing but Sprite so I drove. Seeing all the law enforcement and blue lights flashing around us somehow spurred us to relive all the brushes we've had with the police in the past, including his most recent event two weeks ago, and how many times one or both of us could've easily ended up in jail. Here's a tip. That's not a great topic to discuss if you're trying not to be nervous. Have you ever been driving completely sober but still freaked out that you're weaving or doing something wrong? It was a big relief to get home. But sadly, we were stopped at the red light right outside our neighborhood when the clock struck twelve, having not made it home in time. We had a quick, barely on the lips, one eye on the road peck of a midnight kiss. Always keeping the romance alive, that's us.

On a high note, my friend (the party's hostess) got a ShamWow for Christmas so I finally got to see one. It's not very impressive looking, but we didn't try it out so I don't know.

"...And I want to be with you, be with you night and day..."
AAAGGGHHHH!!!! Shit.
Happy 2009.

Limbo

I've always sort of hated this week of the year. The kind of dreary, letdownish and bloated feeling you have after all the Christmas activities are over. The sort of purgatory where some people are at work, some people aren't, the ones who are are usually part of just a skeleton crew biding their time until they get off early on New Year's Eve.

Which brings me to that.

I've never been much of a fan of New Year's Eve OR New Year's Day. Don't get me wrong - I have had some great ones in the past. But I always feel like there's so much pressure to do something, to party and drink and kiss whomever at midnight and watching the ball drop while everybody drunkenly counts down together, but someone is always off on the number. It was a real relief a few years ago when we realized a quiet night at home could be just as nice. I don't like forced revalry and that's what it started to feel like. Though I don't mind small get-togethers at someone's house and Kristen was nice enough to invite us to hers, which would actually be my choice of what to do. The only other thing we had planned was going out to dinner with Brian's dad and new stepmom who are coming up from FL. Since I know it'll be their treat, that could be okay too. Now that I only drink on the very rarest of occasions (I'm pretty sure Kristen's Halloween party was the last time...which hey Kris - why you always gotta be tryin' to get me tanked?), I enjoy not being hungover on the first day of the new year.

Which brings me to that.

New Year's Day, whoopity do. A day of nothing the hell to do but watch football, which by this point I would rather punt one right through the TV screen instead. And whatever the hell nasty shit you're supposed to eat for good luck that day, like black-eyed peas and ham hocks or pigs feet or chitlins and goat nuts? Who came up with that anyway, some poor old southern mama who only had that shit to feed her family that day so she told them it was for good luck for the year? I don't fucking think so. You can't fool me, old lady.

While I do have some things to be really excited about in the upcoming year, I'm moody and impatient and ready to get to it already. It's been real, 2008. It's been real, it's been fun, but it hasn't been real fun. Word to your motha.

Another one for the books

What a fine fine day to quit smoking.
The most emotionally taxing, physically exhausting and mentally draining holiday of the entire year. Sometimes I amaze myself with the brilliant ideas I come up with.
And it saddens me that what otherwise was a very nice day I was spent preoccupied with thinking about smoking. That is addiction. That is sickness. That is pathetic.
I sure hope it gets easier, because today didn't bode well for my confidence.
I'm not sure I've ever chewed as much gum or eaten as much candy as I have today. I hardly ate any Christmas dinner, a sizeable southern sprawl of all my favorite foods - I've heard Wellbutrin is also an appetite suppressant. Which, great. But I don't even care about that right now.

Oh, and I finally got to reach my goal of watching It's a Wonderful Life last night. It may be a wonderful life, but it was a fucking awful movie. I hated it and gave up after the first hour and a half when he FINALLY met his guardian angel. At least I know now what I WASN'T missing. Sheesh.

One good thing. The apple pie I made for George came out perfect. It looked like some shit you'd see in a Martha or an Oprah magazine. I even managed the lattice top - I've never done anything like that before in my life and everyone said I should make apple pie from now on, that it was among the best they've ever had. I personally don't eat that stuff, but it sure smelled and looked right. Take that, homemade pie crust cousin. I was really glad he liked it though.

My gifts from my inlaws amused me like they do every year. See the thing is, they mostly give us money every year - a not insubstantial amount. And it usually comes in handy to fix things that seem to crop up this time of year, like a new tire for the truck since it's started going flat every day or some big bill I need to pay or whatever. The money is great and that alone would be sufficient. But his mother is very attached to the ritual of passing gifts out while sitting around the Christmas tree. Her gifts to me range from the perfect item for home decor because by now she knows my taste so well, to a t-shirt with the South Carolina palm tree/moon logo. Um. Or what she put in my stocking, which included a can of woman's shaving cream (I use Neutrogena Rain Bath), which I can add to the full can she gave me last year, a shaker of sea salt, which I can add to the half-full bottle I still have from last year, a hand soap from Bath & Body Works that she gives every year and a little plastic dish scraper for getting those tough-to-remove food particles off of dishes before putting them into the dishwasher. All those things are very useful (except the shaving cream); I just think it's hysterical to ooh and ahh over a container of salt just because it's in a Christmas stocking. It's funny.

But I will say I am way more comfortable with spending Christmas with them than I was a decade ago. The first time we sat down to open presents and George read a verse from the Bible first, I thought I was going to melt into a big puddle of awkward. And then have the same thing happen when we get to the relatives' house and do it all again. But now? Old hat. No problemo. This is one very adaptable Jew.

I'm now going to see if there's any candy left, read up on how many Wellbutrins it's safe for me to take in one day and then crash on the couch.

The day was great. I'm glad it's over. I hope everyone had good ones too.

Scenes from a southern Christmas

I haven't done a photo post in awhile and since I have a ton of stuff to do, what better way to procrastinate than upload a bunch of pictures and write about them? Giddyup!


That was the moon the other night. If I had a better camera, the picture would show the skeletal branches of the hickory tree in our front yard that the moon was peeking through and the creepy slivery clouds scudding by. It felt cold enough to snow and looked like it should snow, but no.


Our annual game of Please Wear The Antlers For One Fucking Second So I Can Take A Picture.


The massive tree in the middle of the Village where we went shopping yesterday. It's no Rockefeller Center, but it's not too shabby.


He looks pissed. He wasn't. I just asked if he had fun shopping with me yesterday and he said "It was the least pain-in-the-ass and most fun Christmas shopping I've ever done."


I TOLD you I had a thing for lamp posts! And ones decorated for Christmas? Be still my heart! One day I hope to own my own.


I'm about to turn all this into a pie. My cousin just freaked out and scolded me for using storebought crusts and I told her to suck it. I'm under enough pressure as it is to make a decent filling - I'm going to attempt my first crust as well? I don't think so.


Oral fixation tools for quitting the damn cigarettes. Brian suggested one more oral tool I could use anytime I wanted.


SOME people ENJOY wearing antlers, you stupid animal!


This one is similar to the one I used in our Christmas cards this year except a miracle happened and in the good picture, the dog was actually looking at the camera with his head tilted all cute. Which was because of the beeper on the camera's self timer. Once the excitement of the beeping wore off, the rest of the pictures looked like this.

One last side note: Ten years ago tonight the dude in that picture above asked me to marry him. I said yes. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into that night, but here we are ten years later, still hanging out together and making each other laugh every day. I think it was a good decision.

If I don't talk with you between now and tomorrow, I hope everybody has an amazing Christmas with tons of love, laughter, food and fun.

I'm dreaming of a smoke-free Christmas

I'm a notoriously bad secret keeper when it comes to presents. Dating way back to when my dad and I went shopping for my sister's third birthday and we got home and I first got alone with her and told her, "We had to look so many places to find your doll and her highchair!" I swear. And I was six at the time - old enough to know better but dumb enough to screw it up. And ever since I've been ruining surprises everywhere.

This morning I was on the phone with my sister, oddly enough since I just used her as a plot device in the above paragraph, and I was excitedly shout-whispering to her about scoring Brian's Playstation and game yesterday. He was still in bed and I was mostly at the other end of the house in the bathroom that is loud because the fan comes on automatically when the light is on. (How do you fix that, by the way? You don't need a fan when all you're doing is peeing.) A few minutes later we got off the phone and he got out of bed, jumped in the shower and joined me in the living room for some coffee. The first thing he said was, "You know, I wasn't asleep when you were on the phone with your sister just now. I tried not to listen, but I heard some of it."

Damn him. Damn him, his bionic hearing and his honesty. He should've just kept that shit to himself and pretended like every other fucking person does on Christmas! Oh yes, you know it. There will come a time in the next couple of days when you are pretending to either be surprised or delighted or suprised and delighted and there's not a damn thing you can say to change my mind. I have my Christmas opening gift act down to such an exact science, I should have won some kind of award already. Which would probably be made of brass and I'd have to pretend to love it.

My way of dealing with this ruination of things was to inform him I'd be going shopping with him today for my presents. Since he already knew what his big one was and I've given him explicit instructions on what I want my Fossil watch to look like, all the more easier to make me happy and he agreed. That, and a new Messenger or large Satchel-like purse is all I wanted and I have to say this plan worked so well we may have to employ it from now on. We went to the Village of Shopping Ecstacy, where all the good stores are together but not in mall form, but instead interspersed with landscaping, restaurants, fountains and lamp posts. I love lamp posts. I took a picture of one today. We walked around together for a little while with me showing him the types of watches and bags I preferred and then we split up for awhile so he could make the final decision on his own. We met up together at Books A Million, where we each picked out a book as well, because it's Christmas and well, it's us. And that is what I'd call a successful husband-wife shopping outing.

We may not be surprised when we exchange gifts tomorrow, but we will both be happy and isn't that the ultimate goal?

We'll be staying with Mom & George tomorrow night so we can get up bright and early to open gifts (I hope I won't have to do too much pretending) and then it's on to Aunt Shirley & Uncle Billy's for the large family eatathon. And tomorrow two very big things are going to happen.

Thing the one: I will attempt to make my first apple pie from scratch. George is ridiculously hard to buy for and Iris suggested we just get him a can of mixed nuts or something. Uh, no. I know apple pie is his fave and I think he'd be very pleased and surprised to get this from me. Or else he'll pretend really well.

Thing the second: Tomorrow as we leave to go to their house, I'll be hopefully smoking my last cigarette ever. It's long overdue, it's necessary for some goals I'm working really hard to achieve and it's enough already. I'm already armed with a bottle of Wellbutrin, Jolly Ranchers, Now and Later's and three different kinds of gum, so I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'm not waiting until New Year's Eve like I thought I was going to. It's more than a resolution. And since I don't smoke around his parents anyway, what better time.

Should make for a very interesting holiday.

I'd have a more relaxing day if I was at work

Wanna see my to-do list for today? Sure you do!

1. Post office - What's that you say about waiting til the last minute? Shut up. I thought I was going to be in Florida to hand deliver these gifts, but I'm not. And I've been busy. Shut up.

2. Pay cable and water bills. I suppose I could mail them, but I'm going to stop into my favorite thrift store to visit the girls there and it's right across the street from the cable company. And I keep forgetting to pay the water bill, so I'm scared if I mail it, it'll get shut off. It's happened before. Sadly, our water bill is the cheapest bill we have, but I usually end up screwing it up somehow. And the City of Columbia's website is so lame, you can't pay your bill online. They're in the process of trying to change that because everyone has been telling them how lame it is. But they haven't changed it yet, so hello water company. That reminds me -

3. Put change in wallet for parking meters. It is because of this fair city I learned how to parallel park for real and not just fake it for my driver's test. There are meters everywhere and they are strictly enforced. One of my most favorite things to do is put an extra quarter in when I'm leaving so the next person has some free minutes. Good parking karma is very important.

4. Bank. Have to deposit a Christmas check that came early from his dad. Last year he got me a Barnes & Noble gift card. Brian told him to just send us money this year. But I think I'll stop at Barnes & Noble for a book anyway because I know that's what his dad would want me to do.

5. The Deathstar. I swore I wouldn't set foot back in Walmart until after January 1st, but the combination of having to return something, running out of garbage bags and toilet paper simultaneously and needing a few grocery items, well, there you have it. That is the evil genius that is the Mart - having everything you need at prices cheaper than the more civilized stores. Why didn't I realize about the garbage bags and toilet paper when I was at Target two days ago? Because I'm an idiot.

6. Gamestop. This will be my favorite chore of the day. Brian had his PlayStation 2 stolen a couple of years back, when some asshole broke into his truck. He hasn't missed it too much since then until now. He saw a commercial for this war game called Call of Duty and lost his mind. I thought about buying the PC version of the game, but the graphics are so amazing, our computer wouldn't do it justice. I thought of getting him an Xbox or PS3, but then found many more things I could do with the four hundred or so dollars that would take. So I contacted all my gamer friends and asked where I could get a good deal on a PS2 and Gamestop was the suggestion. The store I'm going to is .4 miles from my house and has both the PS2 and the game. They open at 9:00. I'll be there at 9:05. Yay, Christmas! I can't wait to see the look on his face. Which is pretty much why I love this time of year so much. Well, that and candy canes.

I hope everybody has a fun and productive day. If you need me I'll be standing in line somewhere.

I'll take the Old Testament for 500, Alex

I don't know if it could be considered ironic, moronic or just plain weird, but tomorrow we're going to church and his parents aren't even involved. In fact, they're currently in Atanta, spending the night at their other son's house, because their other son and his wife find it very difficult to make any trip that doesn't involve the wife's family.

Brian's new favorite person is Ed. Ed is a cute little older Puerto Rican man from New York City (who's been here for years and is friends with Brian's parents) and he's been helping him work on a deck all week, something Brian's never done before. Although they were off by 1/2 an inch when originally digging the post holes, the rest of the work has been going amazingly well and Brian asked what he could do to repay Ed for all his time. He answered, "Come to church Sunday. It would make your mom happy. It would make George happy. It would make God happy." Can't really argue with that kind of logic. And I'm all about making God happy right now.

The ironic part being tomorrow is the first day of Hannukah. I was unable to locate candles today, so instead of lighting one of the two Menorahs I have, I'll be sitting in a Baptist church. Typical of how religion goes for me. Inconsistency seems to be the rule.

It's fortunate though - the two religions I'm affiliated with go together very well: Judeo-Christian. Widipekia says: Judeo-Christian (or Judaeo-Christian, sometimes written as Judaeo-Christian) is a term used to describe the body of concepts and values which are thought to be held in common by Judaism and Christianity, and considered, often along with classical Greco-Roman civilization, a fundamental basis for Western legal codes and moral values.

I mean, I got lucky in that I'm sure it'd be a lot harder to combine my beliefs if they were Muslim-Scientology or Buddism-Jehovah Witness. As far as religions go, I may be have a muddled identity, what with my Menorahs up right next to my garland, stockings and reindeer, but I also have a big Book that conveniently contains both the Old and New Testaments right there together for easy reference.

Also, now is my favorite time of year to go to church. Red pointsettas and white lights decorate the aisles. Everyone is even happier than they normally are. And the best part? It's the only time of the year I know all the words to the songs everybody sings. And Jesus' birthday songs are inarguably beautiful to the point I know I'll get goosebumps no less than three times tomorrow morning.

I've always said I'm down for any holiday that involves presents and/or food. How lucky then this year that happens all in the same week. Now if anyone can tell me how the hell to make a potato latke, I'd really appreciate it.

Isn't Vacation supposed to be about relaxing?

Because mine started three days ago and so far the relaxation part has yet to commence. In fact, given the set of circumstances that have recently arisen, one could say things are actually more stressful than normal. It's all good stress, so at least there's that, but it's stress nonetheless. I haven't yet gotten to do any of the things you're supposed to do on vacation, namely sleeping in, taking naps or staring mindlessly into space contemplating life and mouth-breathing. I'm hoping today changes all that, as I've already gotten through what I needed to do today, Brian is working and I finally have some time to myself. I'm rather excited about it.

My agenda for the rest of the day includes a Target trip, coloring my trailerpark roots and doing some baking. Finishing the novel I'm reading and a long nap wouldn't be bad either.

I have a lot to say, I'm just not sure now's the right time to say it.

In the meantime, I hope everybody's getting their last-minute shopping done, going to see some Christmas lights and taking a few minutes to slow down and appreciate this fun time of year before it all rushes by and then it's over again for another year. I know that's easier said than done, and I'm trying very hard to take my own advice.

In the meantime, I'm going searching for Hannukah candles. Living in the heart of the Baptist-ridden South, this could take awhile.

Good Saturday to all and to all a good Saturday.

Welcome to my brain

I've talked a lot about my neurosis. I'm a champion worrier, so much so that if there's actually nothing for me to actually worry about, I get worried because things are going too well. It says a lot about me that I can only relax when something is wrong. Luckily, there's usually something wrong, so I'm usually fairly happy. If not, I will either create something random (What if one of our cars break down? What if we become the victims of a drive-by shooting while at the convenience store? What if that big, sort of dead-looking tree falls on our house?) Don't laugh at that last one; during a hurricane one year, trees were dropping like flies and we ended up with a crunched fence but had it blown the other way, we would've had a brand new tree-made skylight in our bedroom. Or else I'll get excited over the good things that are going on, but for me excitement feels a lot like anxiety.

Issues.

Last night I was up until three, excitedly anticipating my trip to see April today. Unfortunately the trip got postponed, but that doesn't mean I'll sleep any better tonight. After all, I only have three days of work left before the long vacation and there's a lot I'm excited about. Going to Florida, seeing my favorite people, Christmas and its related activities, etc. But, there's always the chance that the dog could fly off the back porch after a squirrel and break his leg, causing a vet bill that could wipe out our bank account. You never know. And then what? THEN WHAT???

It makes me wonder about how I'll be should I ever become a parent. Grace has teased me about this before and I had no choice but to agree with her. If my anxiety level is like this with just two people to worry about (not that I just worry about us, but you know what I mean), add another person into the mix and let's see how jacked up over nothing I can get! Luckily Brian is the opposite, or maybe I should say more normal one, who only worries about things when it's warranted. Oh, to be that serene. Without the aid of drugs. I wouldn't know what to do with myself with all that extra time and energy.

I ended up going shopping with Iris yesterday and though it was unplanned, had a really nice day. She is so cute. She has a lot of people to shop for, but to keep things fair in her mind, she has a little notebook she keeps with her so she doesn't end up getting somebody more than somebody else. This even includes George, her husband. I don't know - it does seem a little anal, but on the other hand it's not a bad system. (Aside: Linens 'N Things is going out of business. Or at least the one here is. While I do prefer Bed, Bath & Beyond it was still depressing to go through a nearly empty store and realize in nine days it would all be gone. If I ever had that experience at a Gap or Target store I might need a strong drink afterwards.) (But we did get great deals on Yankee Candles, so there's that.)

I just noticed the date and realized I missed my annual tradition of having a moment of silence for John Lennon the other day. I suck. Also, on this date in 1983, I made out and almost went to second base with Pat, the guy I wrote about the other day, the one I drove twelve hours to see for twelve hours.

Now do you understand a little more of the things that float around in my head all the time? I went from anxiety to happy to sad about a store closing to remembering the first time I ever got felt up in the space of ten minutes. It takes talent.

Not the one in the sky with diamonds

Last night Brian was stressing out because I'd put a couple of wrapped presents for him under the tree. I was mostly doing it for the aesthetics of it - I like looking at a tree with presents underneath it. He freaked: "You already have stuff for me and I haven't gotten you anything yet!" I told him he didn't need to get me anything and he laughed. I meant it though.

I know it's hard to believe - me, who talks about how much I love presents and who writes entire blog entries on the wonders of certain hair products. My dad didn't nickname me Lucy by accident and I've done a pretty good job of living up to the reputation. Of course "Lucy" also referred to her grouchiness and meanness as well as her greediness, so the name works on many levels for me. But Brian won't hear it; he is big on getting me SOMETHING to open up on Christmas and my birthday, no matter how okay or broke we happen to be on any particular year. Which is one of the things about him that is very sweet.

But I started thinking about it. Of course there are plenty of things I *want*; I mean, my God - have you seen the flyers in the Sunday papers recently? Pretty, sparkly, shiny, fluffy - I could rattle a long list off right now. But do I really NEED anything? No, I don't. I'm lucky enough to live in a cute, comfortable house, drive a (not running great but still running) car to a job every day. Within reason, I can go into a grocery store and pick out whatever I want to eat. I have hundreds of channels from which to choose to watch whatever I feel like entertaining myself with at the time and even recording it if I want to watch it later. I have some people in this world who love and care about me, despite me being me. I have everything I could possibly need and then some.

And then, the little Jew who sits on my shoulder immediately tapped his guilt-wand and made me feel poopy. I have so much more than so many people and most of the time take it totally for granted. Am I worried about money both personally and with regard to the country's failing economy? DUH. Who isn't? Can I afford to give out cash to everyone asking for it this time of year? No. Because I'm selfish and worried about spending my money on presents and traveling this Christmas.

But then I got an idea. That does happen sometimes. I'm not willing to part with my money, but I can give some of my time. Which is why this morning I called Harvest Hope Food Bank and asked how I could help. And now on Friday instead of going shopping or spending quality time on the couch, I'll be volunteering for a few hours. I'm excited about it. The most I've ever done is donate canned goods to them and clothes to Goodwill and women's shelters, and those things require little to no effort whatsoever. Once I'm there I'll find out more about the operation and then there's a good possibility I'll go back to work there more during my time off this month.

It may only be a small thing in the great scheme of things, but it's a start. When you're nicknamed Lucy, you need all the good karma points you can get.