Tuesday, September 27, 2005


I am going to come across as being oh so bitchy after people read this.

Let me explain that I am a friendly person. I chat with strangers on the T. I smile a lot. I like people.

Though I don't really care for people who assume too much based on a working relationship. I have made very good friends out of people I work with, but this is something that happens over longish periods of time, after professional conversation develops into banter, which develops into personal conversation.

Meaning after only working with someone for a couple of weeks, I don't have any real desire to hear about their nights at bars/fights/melodramatic relationship issues with/about people I don't know and will never meet. Especially when I'm expected to give advice.

When I’m working, I like to focus on the task at hand. That way I do a good job, and when my shift ends I can get to my real life knowing I was productive and not a waste of my company's money and my own time. I am good at my retail job. I am organized, efficient, and great with customers.

I do not need the distraction of hearing another story about a bunch of strangers, what was text messaged to whom at what club when I’m trying to reorganize the stockroom or figure out how many jars of arnica massage oil we have left.

Conversations I have with co workers tend to run along the lines of “How are the understocks looking?” “Are we low on Tea Tree oil?” and “What did our district manager say about the offsite storage unit?”. Boring, work related stuff. With a few of them it's small conversations about things I know we already have in common. "Oh, I have been to that restaurant. I love their Stuffed Beef Tenderloin. Have you had their Tiramisu?"

I realize that these people have a need to talk to someone and feel validated, but I have nothing to offer them. We have nothing in common save the place we work, I don’t know their friends, and I barely know them. Also were I actually to give advice, it wouldn’t be well accepted. It would sound like “Talk to him like the 30 year old you are and not like a college freshman, tell him to grow up and be honest, and if he can’t do that, get a new friend.” Or "You really should ask someone who's closer to both of you."


I sound pretty cold hearted, huh? I'm really not...ask these guys.

Maybe it’s just been a long day...

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

I am not working.

I could be, I guess. The thing about being sick is, if you DO work, if you're so tired that you mess something up, you make yourself/boss/company look dumb. However, if you're not working, just drifting in and out of sleep, playing online games and watching Ellen...you're all set. Can't really mess anything up.

Which is why I went on eLouai and made a Novice Doll. Animé Novice.

Which I can'tget to upload right for some crappy reason.

Lazy and possibly have a cold. Posting pictures.

My husband is so gorgeous sometimes I can't believe it. I took this at my Godsister's wedding in Maine a month ago. I'm not sure what it is he's looking at.

People look so much better when they don't know their picture is being taken.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Red Spot

There was this spotting...I called the doctor and she asked if I could leave work and come right in.

I wasn't really worried until then.

My very good friend from college had a miscarriage a few days ago. It started with a few red spots.

I was terrified. I left work. Tried to speak without shaking.

Husband wasn't picking up his cell phone. Called his office, made them get him. He said he wanted to come with me.

Drove to the doctor's office, tears blurring my vision.

I wanted so badly to be able to stop thinking. Of everything I've eaten, every box I've lifted, every awful possibility.

Sam, if you don't die, I'll always let you open your birthday presents before we eat.

Sam, please don't do this to Mommy and Daddy. Please, we love you so much.

Please please please, God, don't take him. Don't take my son. You have so many babies, please don't take mine.

I clutched my Husband's hand as we waited for the doctor.

Apparently some bleeding is common during pregnancy.

Why the FUCK didn't any of the books tell me that?!

She gave me a thorough exam anyway.

Nothing's wrong. Nothing seems to be wrong anyway. His heartbeat is strong. Cervix is closed.

All other parts functioning as they should be.

Husband and I gave massive sighs of relief. Thank you God.

I told Husband that now we have to let him open his birthday presents before he eats, now.

Husband laughed.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

York Beach, Day Two Observation

I think it's funny that I was never confident enough to wear a bikini when I was a svelte college girl, but now that I'm pregnant, I am strutting around the beach in my two piece like a Sportrs Illustrated Swimsuit Model.

No cover up, no beach towel sarong. Check me out, folks, I'm making a baby!

York Beach, Day One

We've come to Maine every Summer for as long as I can remember. We moved a lot when I was a kid and summers in Maine were constant, like Christmas trips to New York or the monthly trip to Boston with Mom.

The cottage in York Beach. It’s small and adorable with carpet ideal for bare feet. Two double beds in one bedroom, two collegiate twins in the other. Little kitchen. Mismatched pieces of furniture from Mrs. B’s collection. Everything dates from the 30’s to the 60’s, except the little TV which only ever goes on during “Mystery” or a Sox Game.

I’ve been coming with my Beloved for the last six years. Next year we’ll be here with our baby son.

We got here tonight just as it was getting dark. I looked at the porch when we came in. I remarked to my parents that it had been repainted. The planks used to be pale green. You could see the old gray wood underneath the chipped paint. Now it’s a crisp nautical blue. My mom said Mrs. B actually replaced the entire porch this year. Looking closer, I realized the whole porch was almost identical, but brighter white. After a couple of minutes, I noticed that the couch is different, too. The saggy, gray, square couch is now a plump, gray, Queen Anne couch with faded pink brocaded flowers.

You know, I’ve redecorated this cottage a hundred times in my head (add a little yellow, change a lampshade, get rid of the blinds), but seeing anything different about it makes me kind of sad.

That old couch and the mint floor were as familiar as the smell of salt air and the lobster rolls from the fish market.


Thankfully, the smaller bedroom is still the same. My sister and I had her first and last pillow fight there. She got a nosebleed. I panicked, but she very calmly looked in the mirror, got off of her bed, and told Mommy she was "bleedy".

She told me a little bit later, quite seriously, that she didn't think we should have anymore pillow fights.