my friend’s New Years Eve plan
December 31, 2009
“We’re planning on watching a marathon of Steven Seagal Lawman and drinking every time he says zen or martial arts. I expect to puke over the porch about two episodes in.”
some e-mails
December 31, 2009
to: Ree
from: Jill
We got a super invite for Melissa’s baby shower last night.
Ree: A super invite? What’s that?
Jill: It’s a themed party… we all dress as superheroes. I’m thinking Batwoman.
Ree: YOU’RE JOKING! RIGHT?!?!?!
Me: Sadly, yes. I meant to type ’super cute.’
Ree: Hahaa…. I was totally picturing your Batwoman outfit…
———————–
YOU GUYS, I HAVE GOT TO GET PREGNANT AND HAVE THIS PARTY.
-CJ
holiday catch up
December 29, 2009
Returning to a blank screen after seven days is like coming home from an exhausting vacation. Your couch and your pillows and your dog jumping as if on springs, sometimes home feels like the tightest, awesomest hug.
It isn’t like seven days, one actual week, is all that long. But for someone who writes just to maintain some semblance of something that might look like inner peace if you flip it on its head, a week is like eternity and I have been LOSING IT.
Christmas was most excellent. Like most people I totally get off on giving gifts, especially good ones. I was so hyped up on the excitement of watching Kiddo open a few specific goodies and watching Ree open her little human rights spinner ring and hoping she liked it as much as I did, I risked bursting out, “IT’S A S’MORE MAKER!” before the paper was torn.
Speaking of paper, this is the kind of wrapping you can expect when we become friends, which we WILL:
Yes, that’s newspaper
featuring Big Foot. (Does Mr. Foot prefer two words? Or is it all one first name and no last, like Madonna?)
Because if it is in the realm of arts and crafts, I check out immediately. You can imagine my poor daughter’s future with a mother that will refuse to help with projects. Building a mission for the fourth grade? Go talk to your father, I want no part in this.
I paid my sister to wrap the rest of my gifts in actual festive wrapping paper that I totally stole from Ree because I am a needy and unprepared jerk and you want to be my friend.
Among my awesome new tools (yes, TOOLS! Finally!) and perfume and shoes and clothes, I am one handy, nicely-scented, purple Chuck clad chick.
For Christmas Eve, my mostly non-traditional family continued with what began last year as our Christmas Eve staple: junk food, cocktails and movies. Christmas morning has a year-old tradition too, of hiding presents and giving my siblings clues to find them. One of my gifts was in the freezer with a clue that read, party time! where’s the vodka?
Hopefully all your week has been just as fun as mine.
-CJ
no time for losers
December 22, 2009
The other morning Kiddo was singing Queen’s ‘We Are the Champions’ when she thought I couldn’t hear. I don’t know how she knows it word for word but I’m so glad she did because it made my day.
-CJ
my people
December 22, 2009
This weekend a group of us from work got together for an unofficial Christmas party. I love hanging with these people outside of the office. I truly scored in the co-worker camaraderie department.
Saturday and Sunday had fantastic Mexican food, Away We Go, all day party in the ‘courtyard’ outside the abode, a Ron White show at the Grove, dozens of fantastic people and one not-so-much.
My lady friend gifted me a Dodgers santa hat and some sweet homemade goods. A co-worker brought me a gift bag full of fudge. They’re conspiring against me right when I got a stubborn two pounds back off my hips. Sons-uh..
I’m so lucky.
-CJ
conference call gone bad
December 22, 2009
It ended with, “She makes me want to rip my eyes out and THROW them at her.”
just another Wednesday
December 17, 2009
I didn’t get to bed until two this morning. I woke up late and consequently got to work late. I had to skip breakfast and my workout.
But when you see the pictures, you’ll know why I’m unfazed by all of this.
-CJ
what I got
December 17, 2009
Alice Bradley was recently published in The Sun Magazine. Rather, her article, Eighteen Attempts At Writing About A Miscarriage, was published in The Sun.
I read it, as well as this post on her blog, from the perspective of a young, accidental mother with no desire for more children, at least in the next several years. I’ve never felt that it was selfish to not want more or to not want to give my daughter a sibling. I cannot tolerate people who think it’s selfish not to have children at all and I froth at the mouth with unwanted lectures of personal fulfillment and overpopulation, anyway!
I don’t even know where I’m going with this except to say that her emotional posts have given me a deep, deep appreciation for what I do have, what I probably never deserved but got anyway. I’m not sure I knew just how completely and totally fulfilled my daughter makes me. All fifty pounds of that kid, scrawny and bright, are more than enough.
That whole ‘kids as gifts from heaven’ is cliché and holds no meaning to an atheist but I kinda think that if Kiddo had come wrapped in a big glittery bow… it might have just been appropriate, is all.
-CJ
decking out 2B
December 17, 2009
We strapped a five foot Noble* to the top of Ree’s car last night and drove home nervously, with the Nightmare Before Christmas’ soundtrack (disc two – the covers) playing.
*I totally thought the sign said ‘Wobble.’ If you ask Ree, it’s a Noble, blah blah. I keep telling people we bought a five foot Wobble.
Our mix of ornaments is awesome. Cheesy old ones, baby’s first Christmases (one from 1980 for Ree and one from 2003 for Kiddo), cartoon characters, classic glittery striped balls, and an assortment of penguins from the ornament exchanges we used to do at my old job.
Ain’t she purty?
-CJ
first world complaints
December 17, 2009
I bitched this morning about leaving my Ipod in my car and having to use the backup one during my work out.
I moaned about having to walk through a little bit of rain to get to my garage to do some laundry. When a few months ago I could only do it by lugging it to the local, filthy laundry facilities or driving my overflowing hampers over to my mama’s.
I complain daily about slow internet access when the connection acts up. As if connecting to more information and people than my brain can even fathom has to be done at Jill’s Required Speed.
I was irritated today by a thirty dollar fradulent charge in my account. Rightfully. But to complain about it any more than I did would be so stupid. For the amount of websites and customer service folk who’ve handled my info, you’d think this would happen way more often. My bank didn’t hesitate to halt it, reverse the funds and send me a brand new card. They got my back. Or my paycheck’s back, at least.
I often forget how good I have it.
What are your spoiled, first world complaints?
-CJ
