I'm not gonna lie to you, last week was pretty bad. The bitterness of having to work through the holidays, along with exacerbated work stress resulted in an excess of crankiness.

When I'm cranky, it's no fun for anyone.

But I purposely had a VERY mellow weekend, and B and I started a new nutrition program this morning (which will be blown to hell at tonight's NYE festivities) *and* I ran 3 miles yesterday...so I'm feeling a bit better.

And in the spirit of setting my goals big, wondering if OrangemanMike wants to do a little running.


ReThinking Thanksgiving

The Setting: B's brother's house....

The Players: Me, B's mom, B's brother, B's SIL, B's nephew, and last, but not least, B. (You didn't think I'd go visit them on my own, did you?)

The Backstory -B's Mom came to our apartment for Thanksgiving and I cooked. It is now one month later...

Aaaaannnnd action!

Mom - So [ridiculouschick], what else did you get for Christmas?
B - The book...
Me - Oh yeah, [B] also got me a book by Anthony Bourdain.
Mom - Who's he?
Me - He's this famous chef.
Mom - Ooohh....so you're going to learn to cook?

Aaaaaaaaand Scene!


Happy Holidays

I slept at my brother's house on Christmas Eve. The Peanut did her part by singing every Christmas carol she knows at the crack of dawn to get us all out of bed the next morning.

So it's about 6:17 am and we're waiting for the coffee to brew and my parents to arrive when she turns to me and says, "[ridiculouschick], you really need to get married."

I looked for the hidden camera, or for evidence that my mother had bribed her make this request.

Then I asked why.

And she explained, in her most adult three-year-old voice, that when I get married, I will "really start living" and that "all adult girls need husbands".

It might be time to rethink her fascination with the Disney Princesses.


Peppermint Mocha

I finished my 2nd therapy session tonight...

(did I tell you that I now see two private clients through my institute on Friday nights? Yes, Friday nights. One at 7:00 and one at 8:00. I don't know who I feel worse for - me or them.)

...and walked downstairs into the bitter cold...

...to find B and the dog waiting with my favorite Starbucks beverage. He even remembered to make it decaf (it was 9:00 pm and I am an old lady) and to put a straw in it, and to add soymilk...

...and then we all walked home, where he had ordered sushi and queued up the next season of Monk.

We really have that dog well trained, no?


Oh Lordy

And as if pondering my existential bullshit isn't enough, it's raining and I forgot my umbrella.


Before I became a therapist/counselor/mental health professional, my work life was pretty simple and steady. I could go to my office and completely tune out for the day (and I often did). I could do the absolute minimum that my job required, and still be considered an excellent employee. And so my days went...

...until I decided to overturn everything that I knew and everything I felt comfortable with to become a social worker. (See archive for graduate school wackiness.)

When I started my 2nd career I had a plan. I knew the work would be emotionally challenging, but vowed that it wasn't going to get in the way of my outside life or my relationships. The start felt bumpy, but I figured that was normal for a new social worker. Then my supervisor left and things felt chaotic and finally after months of feeling totally and utterly unsupported at work, I decided that I needed clinical skills help, and started an intensive 2-year trauma training program.

Still, there was this idea about living my life and drawing the line and keeping work and play separate.

Now I feel totally tricked. Because honestly, how did I think adding 8 hours to my work week wasn't going to have an impact? How did I think that I was going to continue listening to the things that my clients tell me without having trouble sleeping, or trouble feeling safe, or trouble with any other symptom of vicarious trauma? How did I think I was going to be a social worker and that my life was going to stay the same?

Fact: my work and my personal life are intertwined, whether it's in the stuff that I carry home every day, the way that I see the world, and/or the way I'm experiencing my interpersonal relationships. And maybe holding the belief that I need to keep the two divided is taking more energy than is necessary.

I think I just need to acknowledge that I'm not the same person, and that morphing into something different is a process. I'm gonna analyze my interactions and get some things wrong and overreact to some other things and it's all going to be a bit of a mess for a while. The truth is that I chose this career and so along with that, I choose the person who will exist within this career. And I have to give myself a little space to puzzle it all together.


Um, Wait. That's Not What I Meant.

I have a day off on Monday. I have a day off on Monday! The original plan was to go visit my Boston peeps for a 3 day weekend, but given the impending storm/doom and gloom that is predicted, it might be best to stay home.

But that's not the point.

In the main waiting area of my program, we have a whiteboard where we track staff location, using codes to note the reason for absences: sick, vacation, conference, etc. So this morning, I merrily wrote that I was going to be out on Monday (I have a day off on Monday!) with the appropriate code.

I just walked into the hallway and re-read the board:
[ridiculouschick] 12.17.07 VD.



Very Relaxing

B and I have been taking turns at incapacitation. I was sick for most of the weekend, and he just went in the bedroom to rest, stating that he is 'very stressed'.

I end up sitting on the couch, catching up on everything DVR'd, and all my emails and blogs...and decide I'm going to check how he's feeling. So I'm standing in the doorway to our bedroom, trying to gauge whether he's awake or not, when Stewie starts growling and barking and bounding out toward me (I cut a pretty menacing figure, apparently).

In hindsight, I should've called out to the dog because he'd have likely recognized my voice. What I actually did was panic and turn the overhead light on, while loudly commanding (ok, yelling) that Stew needed to be quiet.

Obviously, B woke up, rather abruptly.

Hope I helped with your stress, honey!


Touche, My Friend. Touche.

This morning in our(!) apartment:

ridiculouschick in cheese-voice: "The best gift I can get is waking up every morning next to you." [batting eyes in an exaggerated manner]

B: "Okay. Well then. Merry Christmas."



A gentle reminder from H, one of my book club girls:

"You got two choices – both only involve 8 letters. 8 nights, 8 letters.



Hmmm...why didn't B know this?


Religious Differences

I was worried that I wouldn't have time to get B a first-night Chanuka gift, what with all the moving craziness and such - but no worries. We both took a day off work...

*Trip to CVS, bought him a Cherry Pepsi. Happy Chanuka.

*Empanada Mama - bought lunch. Happy Chanuka.

*Sat in my old apartment for 3 hours, waiting on a delivery for his friend who will be subletting. Without complaining (much). Happy Chanuka.

*Shared a leftover half bottle of Pinot Grigio, rather than drinking it myself. (Straight from the bottle - bonus!) Happy Chanuka.

*Organized the hall closet in our new apartment while he was out, performing at a gig. Happy Chanuka.

*Located balm for his chapped hands. Happy Chanuka.

I believe I've covered 6 out of 8 days already. This is simple.


Let's Play The Feud!

One of the areas where B and I are really well matched is the craziness of our families. So I've devised a little contest between the two to determine whose family is actually more insane. A 'Family Feud' if you will.

Round 1: Birthdays
On ridiculouschick's 30th birthday, her Mom called to 'wish her a happy birthday' but ended up crying on the phone for half an hour about ridiculouschick's recent broken engagement and her beliefs that ridiculouschick would never get married or have children.

On B's birthday, his Mom called to give him grief about his surprise party, wondering why she had not been invited, an issue over which he had no control, as he had no part in organizing the festivities. .

Round 2: Living Together
ridiculouschick: 'B and I have decided to move in together!'
ridiculousmom: [silence] - 15 seconds - 'Oh. Well, does that mean the two of you are getting serious?
ridiculouschick: 'Um, yes, I guess so.'
ridiculousmom: 'Well, what about the baby?'
ridiculouschick: 'What baby?'
ridiculousmom: 'When you have a baby. What religion is the baby going to be?'

ridiculouschick: 'B and I have decided to move in together!'
ridiculousbrother: 'Are you pregnant?'

B: 'ridiculouschick and I have decided to move in together!'
Bmom: 'Well, I hope it's not like the last time, when you lived with [B ex-girlfriend] for 2 years and it came to nothing. '

Round 3: Coming Soon...



There's one problem, living with a comedian.

Mostly everything turns into material.



I just spoke with my ex-boyfriend, T, who told me that they had to put Wallace to sleep yesterday.

Wallace was the dog that T and I owned while we were living in Hoboken, way back in 1996. When we broke up, it was just her and I for a while, until I moved to a place that didn't allow dogs. Luckily, T's family was able to adopt Wallace, and they took excellent care of her for the past 8 years. I didn't see her often, but was glad to get updates and photos from T when he went home for visits.

I still remember meeting her for the first time, a tiny puppy who was all ears, wrapped up in a blanket and shivering. And I just tearfully laughed on the phone with my mom, thinking about the time when Wallace jumped up on our kitchen table and devoured an entire stick of butter before anyone could stop ber (her coat was extra shiny for weeks).


Stress Test

Sensing that I might need more help than my 'breathe' wristlet can give, B got me a gift certificate for a massage at Bliss. (I love him.)

Which is a good thing, as the stress of negotiating my move to his house just amped up a bit, with the subletter for my place wanting to know when he can move in, and the lease-holders for his (subletted) apartment unsure if they want us there (without their crap furniture) until the end of the sublease (April 1) or sooner (January).

Oh, and I also have to schedule a time (and the guts) to tell my family that I am moving. Not that I need their approval or anything...but it's tricky.



When life is swirling around you, a reminder to indulge in basic self-care can be helpful.

Especially when B's mom asks you at the Thanksgiving table what you're thankful for, and you have trouble thinking of a single thing to say...which sucks because of course there's plenty of good stuff...but you still end up blank.

Breathe. Breathe.


Pod People

B's house (now my house too, I suppose) has wireless Internet. Which is a luxury I'm not accustomed to. (I'm not even gonna get into the 42" flat screen television with cable *and* DVR.)

The problem with the Internet everywhere is that, most nights, I end up on my computer, catching up on blogs and writing emails. And B ends up on his computer doing the same things.

I wonder if we'll get to the point where we talk through email while in the same room. Which makes a certain sort of twisted sense, because we met on match.com.


A Supernova

A long time ago, on our 5th date, B and I went to dinner with two of his friends. One of them noted that our relationship was like a supernova, since we seemed to be connecting so fast.

My limited knowledge (wikipedia) of supernovas is that they burn intensely and then burn out. (Oh, and then there's the champagne variety mentioned in that Oasis song.) So I absorbed this compliment (?) and took it for what it was - an offhand remark.

Intensity isn't a bad thing. It doesn't mean we will fade.

Today, in the spirit of supernova-ness (or, perhaps, against it) B and I made arrangements to sublet my apartment. As soon as we can pack and hire movers, we'll be living together. Officially. For real. No, really, we mean it.

Logic tells me that this is craziness, that there is risk and potential for heartbreak. How long have I known this person? What if we fall apart? All these little thoughts that pop up in my brain and settle somewhere in my nervous stomach. But I look at B and see this person that I love, and I know that there is nowhere else that I want to be. I realize just how right this is and how much fun it's going to be to live together. Hell, we already live together (I never really went home after Ireland) so this just means continuing with the benefit of having all my stuff.

And as soon as the dog gets on board and stops acting like a territorial maniac, it's going to be even better.


He Can Be Taught

This morning as I was getting dressed for work, I asked B what he thought about my outfit.

Perhaps warned by my reaction from the last discussion about my clothing choices (and by reading my previous blog post), his response was that I looked like a 'social worker' and that he felt 'soothed' by my presence and wanted to tell me all of his deepest secrets, because he 'trusts' me.

And gosh darn it, I believe him!


Thanks Honey

While I was getting dressed for work this morning, B noted that I was wearing pants again.

And then he asked if I was Hilary Clinton.

Doesn't he know that there is reason and logic involved here? That if I wear a skirt to work, I obviously need to wear my black high-heeled boots. But there's a 6 block walk to the office from the subway to consider. I can't very well wear other shoes for the walk because a) sneakers with tights look ridiculous in a bad way and b) boots are cumbersome to carry.

And if I can get past all of that, it is very uncomfortable to be in high heels all day.



The brief work update is that we've been moved back to the main hospital building. [sarcasm] Luckily, we were given 6 hours of notice so we had plenty of time to prepare [/sarcasm].

The new space has security! And heat! And cleaning service! And a lack of dead vermin!

Now I just need internet and phone connection, and to be able to organize my things sufficiently enough so I can see clients.

Oh, and to get over the fact that I was there waaaay too late last night, directing the movers as to where to put all of our stuff.


For My 500th Post

As if I needed another reason to have a crush on Brian Williams...



Following more craziness in our house today, per B, I have a new name:

'Makes Mountains Out Of Molehills.'

Please adjust your browsers accordingly.


The Dream Has Died

Yesterday morning, my brother and SIL emailed to ask if I could participate in a bookfair that my SIL is organizing for The Peanut's pre-school. It was a good opportunity, rife with the possibility of ridiculousness: dress up in a Curious George costume at a bookstore during a reading for kids. It was stipulated that I wouldn't have to actually say anything...I would just need to "wave and sign autographs."

Awesome, I thought. This is gonna be hilarious. And so I readily agreed to help. And then instructed B that he would need to bring the camera, because this was surely going to make for good joke/blog fodder. Especially if I ran into someone I knew, which was very likely, given that the event was being held in my hometown.

Alas, like most best-laid plans, it was not to be. My SIL emailed last night to tell me that they found someone else who could fill in. And so my dream of dressing and acting like a fictional cartoon monkey abruptly ended.

I feel so empty inside.


The House of the Crazy

b: I like how when we argue, all your insecurities come out.
me: What do you mean?
b: Like last night, when you asked me if all you were here for was to mess up my bedroom with all your stuff. Ridiculous.
me: Actually, my favorite part was when I told you that you should date someone from the dog run.
b: Yeah, that was funny [laughing].
me: And what about when you asked if I wanted sushi, and I said that I wasn't hungry and then went to sulk in the bedroom...
b: But then I brought it in to you and you ate all of it?
me: [laughing] I'm like a child. How old do you think I was last night?
b: I dunno. Maybe 7?
me: That old? Really? I thought it'd be closer to 2...


Trick or Treat

Costume: circles/bags under eyes, no makeup, loose clothing, plastic bag containing tampons, tears for no apparent reason, yelling for no apparent reason.

Yup, you guessed it. I'm PMS Girl!



Stay of Execution

For those of you playing along at home, work's been a little, um, challenging lately. In short: we're still working out of a building that has been sold - without heat, cleaning services, garbage collection, or security. We've been told for months that we're moving to a new location, so all of our stuff has been packed away for, well, months. With each passing day, queries about our workspace (and, by extension, the future of our program) have been met with vague answers (or no answers at all).

Last week, one of the hospital engineers stopped by the building with the news that he was told to have all of his tools (heh heh, I said 'tools') out of the building by October 31st for closing. Questions about this deadline were met with (you guessed it) silence.

This was it, we thought. We're done. We're gonna get laid off. I wallowed for a bit and then started planning alternate ridiculous careers (dog walking, perhaps?), panicking about money, and feeling like the world's biggest loser. And along the way, came into a little bit of acceptance about leaving (well, being forced to leave, really) and my time there and what I had accomplished despite the obstacles, and blah, blah, blah social workiness. (For the record, even though it is vastly illogical, I still feel like a huge loser.)

Today, a short email from our new supervisor, stating that the closing date has been delayed. No further information.

And thus I climb back on the rollercoaster.


Ruh Roh

Last night, I had an intake with a new client.

So I met her in the waiting room and we walked back to the office (no cockroaches - bonus!). We made ourselves comfortable. I introduced myself. I managed not to stutter, or make too many hand gestures, or any of the other things that I had been worried about.

We started talking. It seemed to be going well. Ok, I thought. I'm like a real therapist here.

And then, when I asked her if she had any questions, she told me that she had googled my name.

Well, I thought, this is interesting. Like most neurotic people, I do google myself...frequently. However, I was suddenly unable to recall exactly what she would have found. Certainly nothing very 'therapisty'. Does google have links to my myspace page? I know the NY times bedbug stuff is on there...what else could she have seen?

Unable to immediately answer any of these questions, I took a deep breath, reset my mind, and continued the session.

And ran right home and googled myself.


The Man

Last night, when I got home, B had a present waiting for me. Probably because he was sick of me explaining about how I have the salt scrub, but I only use it sparingly because it's a little expensive but it's my favorite thing EVER.

So now I have two whole new tubs of it, waiting in the medicine cabinet for whenever I'm ready to exfoliate.

In return, I bring home the vicarious traumas of my job.

So, we're even.



The cockroach is partially alive.

As I went to move him/her - his/her legs started moving.

I need to go freak out a little now.


I'm not saying things are bad at work, but I just found a giant dead cockroach in my office and my first thought wasn't how to get rid of it but about the best way to properly document this as proof for my union about the working conditions here.


Nose Ring

I've recently begun thinking about taking out my nose piercing, at least during the work week, since things are getting kinda formal here at my job and I don't wanna give anyone an excuse to reprimand me or write a note in my file (and believe me, these things are happening already for lesser reasons, so - for once - my paranoia has some basis in actual events).

The flip side is that I've never really been able to remove it before (again, paranoia, this time around thoughts that I am going to rip my nose open while trying to get the damn thing out) *and* the "dress code" prohibits "nose rings" and I have a "nose stud".

So it's been for a couple of weeks - I should take it out - FLIP - Fuck that, I'm leaving it in.

This morning: problem solved when the piercing got caught on my towel and came out (painlessly) on its own. Putting it back in wasn't working (see nose ripping, paranoia) so here I am, with unadorned nose.

It feels really strange. I'm gonna have to get this fixed immediately.

Yes, I Had A Weekend

Friday: The Librarian and I know we're not unintelligent women yet we both had trouble following Tom Stoppard's Rock N' Roll. The Librarian even provided some research results the next day, but I'm still not getting it. Oooo, but the guy from two of the Bourne movies was in it, so that's cool...

Saturday: B hosts the gig of a lifetime: his dog run's annual Halloween costume contest. I amuse myself by eating cookies. Stewie amuses himself by refusing to wear his costume (it was "Superdog" which narrowly won over "Dogula" at the costume store) and by chasing/humping the other dogs who *were* wearing costumes, as if to mock their acquiescence to the display. Bonus: B gets to wear a ridiculous hat, and I brought my camera.

Sunday: I decide that we need to clean/organize B's apartment. Good idea, right? Well, it was until I got all scary and hyper about it, insisting on creating a system for things that don't need a system and harassing B into helping me when all he really wants to do is watch football. And finally ending up in a huff around 10:34 pm because the humidifier that we never use wasn't put away where I wanted it. And then I realize, in the midst of speaking with B about the humidifier that we never use that I sound exactly like my mother. Good times.



Last night, B produced/hosted/performed in a comedy show to raise funds for his dog run. He put together an amazing line-up (Joe DeVito, Mick Diflo, Jill Twiss, Robin Fox, Doug Adler, Bernadette Pauley, Josh Homer, and Jim Mendrinos) and the turnout was excellent. (Thanks, AGAIN, to my friends who came out last night!)

The night afforded an additional opportunity to interact with B's mom, whom I've met a couple of times before. She attends most of B's shows...anyway...read below and please note my awesome communication style.

Failed Conversation #1:
mom: are you going to the dog park show?
ridiculous: um, no i don't think so...
mom: why not? what kind of supporter are you?
ridiculous: something partially inaudible but i think along the lines of "a half-ass one" (delivered of course in deadpan fashion then followed by a smirk)
mom [blank stare]
ridiculous: just kidding...

Failed Conversation #2:
she was talking about her friend's cat who wouldn't leave her alone, i made the point that cats have a weird way of sensing cat-dislikers and following them around...
mom: so, do you think the cat was trying to get me to like him?
ridiculous: [shrug]
mom: well, what was i gonna do, have sex with him? do you think he wanted me to have sex with him?
ridiculous: well, if that's what it takes...
mom: [blank stare]

Despite all of this, I just got the report from B that she thinks I am a 'sweet little girl'.

Oh Good Lord is she in for a surprise...


Eating, Drinking, General Merriment

Yesterday morning, I dragged my ass to the gym before work.
(That is not nearly as impressive as it sounds because I didn't have to be at work until 11:00.)

My new, super elaborate, super ambitious plan is to go to the gym 5 days per week. Which is necessary when you consider last week/weekend:

1. I got home Tuesday from an entire week of an all-carb diet in Ireland.
2. To discover that B had ordered pizza with my favorite toppings (pepperoni and black olives) and who was I to resist?
3. Followed by, seriously, one of the best meals of my life at Gramercy Tavern the next day in celebration of our 3 month anniversary.
4. And then some bad news at work on Thursday, which resulted in serious bingeing that night. Why *do* we have all that cheese in the house?
5. Then it was Friday, so to celebrate the end of the work week, LDK and I meet at Moustache (which, as B pointed out, might be the worst name for a restaurant, ever - especially one where the food is just.so.good.) and falafel and pita are devoured, along with the better part of a bottle of wine.
6. Leading into Saturday, when The Librarian comes over to ogle the new 40" flat screen HDTV, uh, tv that B bought while I was away, and we order Chinese food.
7. Finished by Sunday with the fam at Cara Mia - various appetizers, gnocci and chocolate mousse cake.


A Ridiculous Charade

Yesterday evening, my family came into town to celebrate my brother and SIL's birthdays, which had happened while I was drinking my way through the Emerald Isle.

Because we were going out to dinner in my neighborhood (um, I guess I mean my former neighborhood, at least for the month of October, and possibly beyond) we decided to meet at my apartment (um, I guess I mean my former apartment, at least for the month of October, and possibly beyond). So this involved making sure The Librarian was home so we could get in to my former/current apartment, then explaining to my family that she is staying there for the month.

"Oh", my mom said, "it must be crowded."

This was obviously the perfect time to explain to Mom that I have, in fact, been staying at B's (instead of living in my tiny apartment with two people and one queen-sized bed). But I kept my mouth shut, and nodded, because, you know, I am instantly 12 years old and seeking approval when dealing with my family.

And then, of course, woke up thinking about the whole mess today and felt even more childish and foolish for playing along with a game I didn't set up in the first place.



I went to Ireland hoping thatr I could duplicate the idyllic picture on the front of this travel book. But none of the sheep seemed to want to cuddle with me. Strange.

Don't go to Ireland if you want to eat healthily. Or if you're opposed to drinking every day as soon as it hits 12 o'clock.

Also, it's probably a bad idea to see a short-ish Irish guy and tackle him, claiming that he is a leprechan and refusing to let go until he leads you to his "pot o' gold".

Not engaging with the crazy-eyed drunk man is also a good suggestion, especially when he starts muttering about his impending trip to NYC in November and some "unfinished business" that he needs to attend to.

The Librarian and I spent a fair amount of time on InishMore
drinking beer (Guinness for me, Harp for her) and then building "CanHenge". I think she has video of this. *Please note* we both have advanced degrees. And yes, we know that Stonehenge is not in Ireland.

Temple Bar is the "Meatpacking District" of Dublin. Annoying.

Most Irish people are friendly even when they figure out that you're American, the rare exception being those who will start yelling about George Bush and war mongering.

Lager and lime is just as tasty as it was in 1993 when I was in London.


Top O' The Morning To Ya

I'm back, I'm awake unreasonably early (jet lag), and I'm broke.

Oh, and I'm supposed to be reading for my class at 9:00 am, so more later...


Klassy Lady

Moved some more stuff to B's last night. All my bags are already at his house, so I used a...garbage bag. Yup. Dragging my stuff through his slightly fancy lobby in a...garbage bag. Greeting the doormen.

And with that awesome image in your head, I bid you goodbye, as The Librarian and I are getting ready to leave for Ireland.



As if I didn't bring enough shoes over to B's house...I'm seriously considering these.

I think it'd be a wise investment. I hate rainy days (and Mondays, which always get me down, but that's besides the point) but the right boots could help.


MY SIDE: I've kinda temporarily sorta moved into B's apartment. Partly because I'm helping out a friend who will be staying in my lovely apartment for the month of October, and partly as an experiment to see if we can actually live together. But mostly because I absolutely love being with B, and I'm there all the time anyway.

Oh, and there's laundry services in his building.

So, yesterday, we packed up my 'necessary' items (B: "How many pairs of shoes do you have, anyway?') and brought them over to his house. And when we got home, we went right back out again to the dog run, then to enjoy the last bit of summer outside. Despite a few interludes of looking at each other and mock panicking about 'really' living togther (sample: 'This is great. Togetherness is great! We're together now. All. The. Time.') it was a perfectly normal night.

The only weird thing was getting up this morning and seeing all of my things in the closets and the medicine cabinet and the kitchen.

HIS SIDE: The email he sent to friends this morning.
"ridiculouschick (ed. note - he doesn't call me ridiculouschick)has moved in for October. Well, she's moved in for two daze, then she's off to Ireland for a week, and then back here for the rest of October. So far we're doing good...well, there was this "thing" that occurred last night. She woke me up sometime around 3 AM....

"What did you put on my waist?"
"Huh?" I asked, groggy, yet curious where she was going with this. I assumed that she was playin' some game.
"I said, 'What did you put on my waist?'" She answered, tinged with anger.
"I didn't, I didn't, umm, put anything on your waist."
She then turned over and went back to sleep.
I went back to sleep too... after I put a knife under my pillow.

She didn't remember it when we woke up.

This could get interesting.

Rock On,

B (ed. note: he doesn't call himself B)"


Weekend Update

I wrote out a whole post about my weekend, then re-read and decided that the details are boring to anyone who isn't me.

The general recap is that L&D were down from Boston. I went to Princeton to see a friend from high school and meet her 2 month old daughter (they were visiting from SF).

And when I got home last night, exhausted (surprise, surprise - the only adjective I use lately is exhausted) B had not only done the laundry, but had baked an apple crisp with apples that we picked last weekend in upstate NY.


Here We Go

I'm beginning to feel like the main character in Memento, since I've taking to writing stuff on my hand in an effort to manage my daily life.


This morning, almost at the finish line of a really hectic work week, I bought a large iced coffee from Dunkin' Donuts. Toasted Almond flavor. It was so big that I actually questioned if I needed that much caffeine. Luckily, the universe took care of that one for me, because I got to work and immediately spilled the entire cup (accidentally...maybe).


I'm going to Ireland in less than a week. Holy crap. I'm going to Ireland in less than a week.


I'm reading Eat, Pray, Love and now I too want to travel in search of enlightenment. But I should really get back to my regularly scheduled life, which includes reading for my trauma class, rather than fun reading. Also which, right now, includes work so I can leave the office on time.


Extra Ridiculous

It is ridiculous even beyond my normal appreciation for the ridiculous that I have to call my boyfriend and establish a 'safety plan' for leaving my work building at night because I'm so freaked out by the spookiness of it now that the other tenants have moved out. I don't use the bathroom here because I'm convinced that someone is going to be hiding in there.

(It's always been spooky - given the sub-basements and the tendency of the facilities people to turn the lights out - but now it's Extra Spooky.)

*And* even given the 'safety plan', what's he gonna do if I fail to answer my phone at the appointed hour? Race over to Brooklyn to see if he can be of assistance?


Feelings, Whoa Whoa Whoa...Feelings

So...all the blood tests for my mystery illness are turning up absolutely nothing.

Bearing in mind that I am a Mental Health Professional (tm The Lawyer) I guess the next thing to investigate is my psychological well being.

(Oh, BY THE WAY - thank you to everyone who checked in with me over the past few weeks, and especially to those who suggested that I might be pregnant. Ha! Wouldn't that have been a humdinger! Look at me! Laughing over here because that is SO FUNNY! See? I'm laughing.)

I'm moderately stressed out, but that isn't anything new. I've been 'moderately stressed out' since about 1997. The only difference I can pinpoint is my thought process, which feels particularly circular lately.

For example, in attempting to leave the house this morning, I could not decide what to wear...internally, it sounded something like this:

[ridiculouschick]: wow, these pants are feeling a little tight. are they looking tight? (attempt to see shape of body reflected in glass of a framed poster.) they are tight. why are they tight? they used to fit, no, they used to be loose. this is because i'm not doing the marathon and i haven't been to the gym in a while. oh man, i feel fat. wait, i don't just feel fat, i AM fat. and why am i paying $55 a month for the gym when i'm not going to the gym? i don't have that money to waste. i don't have money to get new clothes either. oh, and i just bough all those pants at banana republic and now they're not going to fit because i'm fat and i haven't been to the gym. why am i not going to the gym? it's my schedule. i can't go to the gym because of my work schedule. i need to get out of work earlier. but i can't leave work earlier because then i won't have enough clients and then i won't complete my hours to get my clinical license. i should get up earlier and go before work. but i can't see getting up any earlier than i have been, and i'm already exhausted, so that won't help. but i used to get up at 5 am to go to the gym when i was an engineer and i was skinny. right now, though, i'm fat and it's all my fault and...

I can't imagine continuing to read that would be any more pleasant than being the person who's experiencing it, so I'll just end here.


I Suck

I've delayed posting about this until now...mostly because I wanted to tell OrangemanMike (rather than having him read about it). And partly because writing about it makes it real and I seem to love denial. And on top of all that, it's been a difficult decision to make.

But now I'm ready to tell.

So here goes.


I'm not going to be able to run the marathon this year.

My training has been, well, really not consistent, and my body is not ready nowhere close to ready and I'm not feeling great anyway and now I'm in school 2 days a week and my work schedule has blown up, and and and...

The excuses could go on and on, but what it comes down to is: it's just not happening right now.

(Note to self: stop eating as if you *are* marathon training.)



When you're still absolutely exhausted, and don't know what is wrong with you, 'The Internets' is a pretty good research tool.

However, information obtained here, here, and here can be a little scary...

(She hasn't said so specifically, but I'm sure my doctor appreciates my assistance and self-diagnosis. Yep. She does.)



Last night, I met up with LDK at our favorite happy hour spot. So we're settling in, just getting started on our 'agenda' items (we tend to itemize our discussion topics - Virgos!) when I started to feel sick.

And, a moment later, really sick.

I quickly went to the bathroom, where I threw up. Then I went outside to get some air, but it didn't help. I went back to the bathroom, where there was now a line. While I was waiting, I felt like I was going to pass out.

A few minutes later, I found a worried LDK back at the bar. By this time, I was covered with a cold sweat and I was shaking. She took a look at me and overruled my protests that I was okay. We took a loooong cab ride to B's, and I've barely left the house since.

I'm not sure what's going on with me, but I've had to cancel most of my weekend plans (I'm hoping to still be able to go to Philly tomorrow to watch Bons in her first half marathon) including B's show tonight at Gotham.

As usual (the usual meaning a little more than 2 months) the boy has been amazing. Without being asked, he came home from the store with all the foods I was craving, along with flowers and the latest Us Weekly. Now I'm resting, watching cable, eating chocolate chip cookies, and cuddling with the dog. Not so bad...


The Only Pain I Got Time For Is Pain I Put On Fools Who Don't Know What Time It Is

There's just too much change going around lately. Some of it good, some that will be later revealed as good...but the lack of control has me just a tad freaked out. (And seriously, Life? I got it. Nothing is constant. Lesson learned. Enough. )

Terry Tate to the rescue.



As I left B's apartment this morning, still smiling over our morning ridiculousness, I noticed that the construction site outside his building was unusually quiet.

And then I saw the construction workers gathered on the corner, facing south. Some looking at the sky, some looking at the ground...no-one talking.

I still don't have words for that day 6 years ago, so I'm just gonna be as silent as possible.


Meet The Family

(This Monday thing is a rough gig, especially while coming off a weekend of birthday celebrations.)

A few things about my birthday dinner / B meeting my family on Friday:

1) The Peanut was having a bad day. This was obvious from the moment I saw her at the train station, where she greeted me with a languid wave, rather than running to me and hugging / kissing. This sort of behavior continued all night, at one point with her standing in the kitchen, hands on her hips, declaring that this birthday party was 'not good' and that she wanted to go home. I think she's got a lot going on right now - she just started pre-school and my brother/SIL told her this week that they're pregnant with twins (yes, twins!). Oh, and since she's known me, I've never had a boyfriend, so she might've been feeling a little threatened by that (as evidenced by her refusing to speak to B, and asking him directly why he was there).

2) It was really hot on Friday. My father had decided to remove the window air conditioners the weekend before. B now has a new saying: 'hotter than ridiculouschick's parents' kitchen'. It was uncomfortable. He was visibly sweating, then trying to discreetly wipe his forehead with a paper napkin (he told me later that he was worried about bits of it coming off and sticking to his face).

3) As part of our dinner ritual, my family says grace, with everyone around the table holding hands and each saying what they are thankful about. I had prepared B well in advance for this, and, as he is a Comedian, he spent the warning time thinking of smart-ass answers (sample: 'I'm thankful I'm a Jew, the chosen people, by the way, and that I don't have to say grace before every meal'). On Friday, B ended up sitting next to my dad, so he awkwardly took his hand. When his turn came, there was a long pause while everyone waited for him to speak. As I looked at him, I could see that he was worried that his hands sweating and that all the sarcastic answers were floating through his head, blocking any thoughs of acceptable ones. He finally mumbled something about meeting me.

4) Despite the heat, a petulant 3 year old, and grace - the evening went smoothly. B was just about perfect and everyone seemed to like each other.

Except The Peanut. She wasn't liking anyone on Friday. I hope she'll come around eventually.



I'm 35.

And B is meeting my entire family tonight.



Oh Great Googly Moogly

I've been a major asshole since I've returned from vacation.

It's been extremely hard for me to return to New York City after being away. The things that usually don't bother me (crowds, noise, sirens, rudeness) are amplified. During my commute home on Tuesday, some fucktard was sitting in my subway car (yes, MY subway car) openly smoking a cigarette. And no-one wanted to ask him to put it out because he looked a little crazy.

Sigh. The end of summer + minor NYC annoyances + rapidly approaching 35th birthday = ridiculouschick in a very bad mood.

B has been doing his best to weather the storm. After only dating me for 2 months, he seems to have perfected the art of knowing when to give me space, when to make fun of my unreasonableness, and when to listen/support/commiserate. He understands why I'm pushing and testing him, and tells me that my behavior doesn't change how he feels about me. He's patient without being pathetic. I'm only beginning to realize how much he cares about me, which, because I am somewhat crazy, leads to internal freak outs and bratty behavior.

Thankfully, my therapist is back from her vacation to absorb some of the foolishness and once again, point out the ways that I sabotage the things I care about.

For now, it's time to move out of my head and get some work done. Oh, and get a haircut, because B and I are going out to dinner and the very least I can do is try to look good for the boy.



I feel like I've been gone for so long, and a lot of stuff has happened (while at the same time, nothing much has happened) and I don't know where to begin.

Two weeks with the family is definitely too much. Anyone could have seen that one coming, but I had vacation blinders on which precluded all reason beyond 'two weeks at the beach...free'. This being said, most of our time in Delaware was lovely...plenty of sunshine, swimming in the ocean, kayaking, and good food/wine. The Peanut got a little antsy but did remarkably well for a 3 year old in a house of crazy. (And I don't mean crazy in the 'swing from the chandeliers' variety.)

A Brief Appearance in NYC:
As an early birthday present, B got tickets to Rent. This was especially thoughtful since it's my all time favorite thing on Broadway and two of the original cast members (the best ones - Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp) are performing for a limited time. So, last Friday, I drove up from Delaware and into the city, picked up B, drove to my apartment, unpacked, re-packed (the reason will become clear in a minute), drove back to his apartment, parked the car, and went to the show. The next morning, at 6:30 am, I reluctantly left B again to drive to...

The Librarian and I headed up to Boston for the weekend in my parent's car (woohoo!) to visit L & D (who clearly need blog nicknames)and Honeychild & Big Daddy, and to check out Groomzilla and MS's new apartment. The weekend was just about perfect - I had a strong showing in all eating categories on all 3 days. Highlights include: playtime/cuddling with Miss A, L&D's seriously cute 11 month old daughter, a beach party in Scituate with an amount of food and alcohol which is not to be believed, bouncing on a trampoline at the same beach party, spending much time devising pretend ways for E, L & D's 10 year old son, to pantomime dying (examples: any and all manner of explosions and/or poisoning, killer bees, vicious rhetoric, bad clams), and deconstructing/critiquing Big Daddy's music filing system.

The Drive Home, Tuesday, 6 am:
It sucked, quite simply.

Back at Work:
I forgot how to be a Social Worker. Or how to be a good one, at any rate. Plus, the building where we work has been sold, and we need to be out of here by next Wednesday, but there's no available space to move to. This is just about all I can say about this situation, but it's not looking good.

And since I'm out of writing practice, this post has taken way longer than it should have, and I need to get back to working and owning it (my job, that is).


This Is Your Brain On Vacation

Oh yes, I'm back.

NYC re-entry is challenging, as always. I'll be with you as soon as I get that all sorted out.

In the meantime, thanks to The Lawyer for being an awesome guest poster.


let's say so long, not goodbye

this turned out to be a fantastic labor day weekend. i spent friday night through sunday afternoon with my friend m and her husband j in new jersey. it's so nice to be around people where you don't have to be "on" all the time. we went for a hike in basking ridge at some wildlife preserve. i hope to be able to go there again some time soon. sunday night i went with howard hughes to get pizza at arturo's and then gelato at cones. dark chocolate and coconut. also yummy.

today, i spent the afternoon with my friend, we'll call her vichy 'cuz she's french, in central park. we actually had a really nice time. i've known her for several years but have only ever spent time alone with her twice. both in the last month. i'm not sure how i feel about her as a friend yet. but i have to admit that the conversation never lagged and i felt very comfortable with her. i think i also need to admit that the more i talk to her, the more i like her. we email every day from work and she was very persistent about hanging out this weekend. it's just a friends thing though.

the best part about the weekend is that i walked all three days. 3.5 miles on sat, 2.5 on sun and mon. i'm feeling pretty good. and tonight i could not even get buffalo wings delivered. atomic wings was closed. they have some nerve being closed on labor day.

the absolute hightlight of the weekend though is the murder, she wrote marathon on hallmark channel which i have been watching on and off all day, and have tivo'd most of the episodes. i just love that show.

my sincerest thanks to hrr for entrusting me with guest posting. i enjoyed doing it. it's been a strange combination of confessional and outlet for inane and insignificant life events. i hope you enjoyed reading it. until the next time...


toilet paper, site meters and letting go. there is no such place as "almost really happy" arh

when i moved into the city a few months ago i told hrr that i was so excited to live near the kmart so i could buy my paper products in bulk. that earned a look and a "why"? i said that i liked knowing that i wouldn't run out or have to make fifteen trips to the store to buy one roll at a time. as i analyze this exchange i realize it's not about paper products. i mean it is, but it's not. so after a long analysis (that i will spare you) freud says that the lawyer has a problem living without a safety net. safety nets of all kinds, paper products, people, places, etc. it's like i'm 35 and still have the training wheels on as i navigate my through many parts of my life.

which leads me to site meters. did you know that every time you visit a blog/journal online that your visit is tracked by the ip address? did you know that every place you go on the blog/journal, and every search that you do, is also tracked? i did not know this. i learned something new. the hard way. let's say, for example, that someone that you have had a relationship with (any kind of romantic relationship of any length of time)has a blog/journal. while you are part of their life you are given full access to the blog/journal, you like to read that
blog/journal and sometimes you're a part of it. it's cool, it's fun to see your name on the screen. now let's say that you break up (assume like all break ups it's bad. even good break ups are bad. if they weren't then you'd still be together). as part of the break up you are asked not to visit the blog/journal. you listen. for a while. then, because you're a real f***ing cowboy, who either doesn't know about, or worse, doesn't care about, the big brother site meter, you visit the blog/journal. and sometimes you're even selfish and arrogant enough to search for your own name. this all translates to "you have a really hard time letting go of the past and living in the present."

which brings us to the letting go and taking the training wheels off. what i have learned, and pray that i will continue to follow as faithfully, if not more so, as i have over the last 48 hours, is that if you don't like the view then you need to change your seat. if there is somewhere/something/someone else you would rather be then go there, or at least try to go there and see what happens. and if you don't make it there then you need to make the best of where you are and not look back. you cannot recreate the past and chances are that where you are is actually a pretty good place to be. enjoy it.

an example of not letting go is you reading a blog/journal of someone who asked you not to. on top of it, you're actually hurting someone that you supposedly care about because they see it every time you log on. you get access to their life, but they get none to yours. and all you're doing is staying stuck in a really unhealthy place and not moving forward. don't get me wrong, in this hypothetical situation, the letting go and moving on really, really hurts. you want that someone/something/somewhere to still be in your life, even in this completely detached and dysfunctional way. but it's really the feeling that it gave you that you're holding on to, not so much the actual someone/something/somewhere. and you can't get that feeling again, for real, if you stay in that place.

so you do the right thing and you say goodbye to the blog/journal, you say goodbye to the someone/something/somewhere, you take the training wheels off and ride downhill with no hands into your future. of course, you may hit a rock and fly over the handle bars and break your arm and scratch up your face, but, maybe not.


there really is no free lunch

today was the last day for one of our file clerks so the firm ordered in lunch for everyone. we all eat together in the conference room. it's actually kind of nice is a professional camaraderie sort of way. i ordered a corned beef sandwich on rye. unfortunately, it was the worst corned beef sandwich that i've ever eaten in my life. there was so much fat that i spent about 10 minutes trying to trim it off. still disgusting. so i had about 5 carefully placed bites and a pickle. very disappointing. i thought the free lunch would be the highlight of my day. wrong.
i was starving at 5pm so i went and had a mister softee cone. so far, that is the highlight of the day.
the date with d last night went well. i probably won't see her again until the week of the 13th due to our conflicting schedules.
looking forward to the 3 day weekend!!!!!!!


on a good note...

the whole partner/couch thing was uneventful. i'm glad. i like the guy. i don't want to be guest blogging about his pain. still. it's not unusual to have a couch in your office, but, it's funny when the couch takes up a 1/3 of the office.

tonight i'm going out with d again. i think i'm excited. i really need to keep myself in check though. lately,with dating, i've been so focused on who the girl isn't rather than who she is. make sense? i'd like tonight to be different. i don't want to compare. it's not fair to her, or to me.

finally, someone who is more of a mess than me or anyone i know

here's the deal: i've been emailing this girl from an internet "dating" site since late june. no harm right. bottom line is that we've made plans three times. that's right, three times, and she's canceled each time. i finally got it out of her, thanks to my cross examination skills, that she still lives with her "ex" gf in brooklyn. the last time we were supposed to meet for a drink was at catty shack in brooklyn, a club/bar that i have never been to. she canceled on me that day at 2pm saying that her "ex" was going to be home that night so she couldn't get out, since, of course, the "ex" doesn't know that she's on these websites looking for sex/love/romance. i obviously did not call her back. that was two weeks ago. i checked my email today and found this with the subject line "try, try again and again":
So sorry for all the false starts. I'll try calling again over the next couple of days. Let me know if I shouldn't bother. It would certainly be understandable!

to which i, justifiably, i think, responded with:
i am almost speechless at your email. almost. i really don't understand what it is that you want. you have canceled plans on me three times. there is a whole lot of drama here that has done nothing but waste my time. for what? a drink? i don't have time to work this hard for, well, nothing. it's annoying. frankly, i think that you might be a little crazy. you certainly haven't broken up with your gf. that's obvious. please, tell me why i should make plans with you again. i'd really like to know what it is that you think you have to offer me. i've offered up a tremendous amount of patience but i'm all out now.

i'm only sorry that hrr is not here to read this in real time.


sleep on this/office hijinks

after everyone left the office i laid on the couch. lindsay wagner would not endorse this couch as a sleep number couch. the cushions are kind of hard and slope towards the back of the couch. i'm so afraid that i'm going to be asked to fluff a pillow.


the date went well. thanks for the volunteer!!! luckily i didn't need it. the girl ("d") was cool. in high school she was goth and she played soccer and she was in all sorts of ap classes. i wish she had gone to my high school. today she works for a pharmaceutical company and is all professional. i'm still trying to picture her in adidas track pants at soccer practice. hopefully i'll see her again. she's short though. not that i have anything against short people. i'm one of them, trapped in midgetville at 5' 4", but this girl is like 5' tall. i tower over her. the question is will intelligent, pretty, responsible, employed, funny and athletic outweigh short. jury is still out on that one.

speaking of juries, court was over early and my trip to target was a success. i bought a lot of laundry detergent and tissues. there's a long sleeve t-shirt and a bra in there somewhere too. bottomline about target, walmart, kmart, etc. is that you can never go in for just one thing. it sucks you in and makes you open your wallet. damn the economy size kleenex.

good news. the partner's couch arrived. it's brown leather will three sections so i guess it's long enough for him to lie down on. he's no taller than 5' 9" so he'll fit. this whole couch business is bizarre. i'm wondering how he's going to make it to work in the first place. he lives on long island in nassau county somewhere. i don't know if he's taking the train or driving. what's he going to do? sprawl out in the aisle on the lirr after half an hour? by the time he gets to work he'll be in so much pain that he'll be popping vicodin like candy and pass out on the couch. i'll keep you posted on this professional development.

prison break (arh "prison bitch")is apparently back on tv for the fall season. i forgot to tivo it so i'm going to my friend's house for chinese or thai food and some prison bitch (we'll call him hh for howard hughes). we'll see how the week develops.


torrance says it's a cheerocracy not a democracy

i just read the comments from my initial guest post. my apologies for not posting more often. i would never want to do anything to upset the citizens of ridiculousstan or disappoint hrr. guest poster is an appointed position in this kingdom and i will not forget that.
potential highlights/lowlights/blog posts for the upcoming week:
date on monday. should be interesting. meeting at the whiskey bar at 7:30 for a drink and then dinner somewhere. i may need a volunteer to call me at 8:00 to give me an out with an "emergency" (wink wink) in case i need one?
tuesday or wed one of the partners is returning to work after back surgery. he's been out for over a month. in a twisted way i kind of miss him. he's completely manic and everything is a crisis. he reminds me of me like that so it's fun to have him around. the interesting part to this is that he can't sit up or stand for more than a half hour at a time. his recovery is not going as quickly as planned. he had to rent a couch so that he can be horizontal for portions of the day. that is going to be so bizarre. it sounds like a seinfeld episode. should be a real humdinger (arh) of a week at work.
renting a car on tuesday to go to nj for work. plan to go to the target in hackensack. i love going to target.

much needed, mostly boring weekend

friday night i experienced an amazing view of the manhattan skyline from long island city, queens. a friend from college and i had dinner at a french restaurant that i cannot remember the name of on vernon blvd. the food was good but not out of this world. it was relaxing to wander down to the water telling stories about things we did 15 years ago and winding our way to where we are today.
my friend (j.s.) helped put a few things in perspective for me. when i explained to her my adventures over the last few weeks, she surprised me with her response. she said don't be reckless, i don't want to see you hurt not just emotionally but physically. don't do something you'll regret. hello. wake up call. i knew i'd been acting careless, definitely, but had to admit that i have been leaning into reckless territory. my version of reckless is far more vanilla than most people but you have to know that something is wrong when you billed 25 hours in a week and had dinner at 1am on three consecutive weekday nights. the lights are on, and someone is finally home again.
that's why on friday night i actually passed up an invite to cubbyhole. i went home and watched the new episode of south of nowhere, which is the most lesbo-tastic show on t.v. at the moment. which reminds me that mrs. ellen degeneres (portia de rossi) is on nip/tuck this season and will be knocking boots with joely richardson. october cannot come soon enough.
the rest of the weekend consisted of watching tv, saving all my cd's to transfer to my ipod, eating and a pedicure.


guest post

hi everyone--
i wanted to thank our fearless leader (the ridiculous chick)for inviting me to guest post while she is on vacation. for that i am going to refer to her from here on out as "hrr" for "her royal ridiculousness."

thanks yous all around for this past saturday night. i'd like to send a shout out to whoever in cuba (not arh) for creating the mojito. in particular the tasty variation known in my world as the pineapple mojito that i enjoyed at the restaurant good (which has the most amazing veal meatballs and mushroom polenta and a very creative brunch menu). i am eternally grateful to russia for introducing me to my new bff, stoli blueberry. stoli was at cubbyhole (a neighborhood lesbian bar on w. 4th and w. 12th for anyone interested) with her cousin club soda. thanks to stoli i had a spectacular saturday night and had more than 5 recommended daily servings of fruit between 10pm and 4am.


I'm Out

After much harranguing and harassing, The Lawyer has agreed to be my guest blogger.

She was worried about 'posting every day' and 'being funny'. I told her that I am rarely either of those things. Or doing either of those things. Or something. In other words, no pressure.

Of the blog, she's promised to 'gay it up'.

Meanwhile, I'm feeling a little better about leaving. Even though I'm going to be away for a long time, B has promised that he will have absolutely no fun while I am gone. I do hope that's the case.

Layta, peeps!



I'm feeling...peculiar. Halfway between anxious and upset. Had a strange night out last night, and not feeling good about leaving the city behind for two weeks.

A little introspection/check-up/check-in is needed in order to figure out why.

I'll be right back with you. In the meantime, a Boston Creme donut might aid in the thinking process.


Here. But Not Here.

Still in the bubble. Still getting ready to go on vacation. It's possible that one of my book club girls, H, will be guest blogging in my absence. Or The Lawyer, although I haven't asked her yet.

I haven't yet told B about the blog. It nearly came up last night, because he randomly found his journal from an English class during his freshman year of college (which we spent an hour reading and laughing about). I don't know. While there is nothing on here that should come as a surprise to him (we've talked about pretty much everything) it could be strange.

I also wonder how knowing that he's reading will impact my writing.

Questions for another time. For the rest of today, there's 3 more hours of work, then drinks with EG. And maybe, just maybe, actually staying in my own apartment tonight and getting some sleep.

Craziness. I know.


Highs and Lows

B and I are still in that crazy bubble where we can't seem to get enough of each other. I think I was home in my apartment for a total of about 1/2 hour this weekend. Could be relationship newness, could be that I'm leaving Friday for a 2 week vacation and we're storing up as much time together as possible.

I did emerge from the B-ness, however, to go on a training run on Saturday. The planned distance was 7 miles (which is still behind where I should be at this point, but a realistic and achievable goal).

Right around mile 5, I suddenly felt myself swaying and my vision went temporarily black. Luckily, I stopped running before I passed out completely and fell. I sat for a while, in the shade, feeling increasingly weak and nauseous, but had forgotten to bring water, money or a cell phone with me. So I tried to send telepathic messages for help. When none arrived, I eventually hauled myself up and very, very slowly walked home.

I spent the rest of the day in B's air conditioned apartment, alternately napping and drinking water.

Looking back, I think the hot day, the route that had no shade, and not properly hydrating all contributed to the problem. I'm still kinda shook up about it this morning, even though I understand what happened and why.

I feel a big marathon decision coming my way.


Hey Now, Hey Now

The day started off pretty badly: I got stuck on the subway for 25 minutes in between stations and then had an extraordinarily difficult case at the hospital...

but no worries, because I'm going to see Crowded House tonight!


Awk. Ward.

Before I start, The Comedian needs a new pseudonym. I don't know why, but I'm not loving "The Comedian" as a nickname any more. He shall heretofore be referred to as 'B', for reasons best known to myself.


Last night, I met B (formerly known as The Comedian) at Artisanal to celebrate Week 4 of this little dating experiment that we've been involved with. I kissed him hello, sat down, and glanced over at the next table, only to see a profile that looked a lot like LawStudent. Then I heard the profile speak, and confirmed (mentally) that it was indeed the guy I briefly dated back in March. I debated saying something, and think I felt him looking at me at different points during the night, but as time went on, it became more and more awkward to acknowledge this, and he left without us speaking or admitting that we had seen each other.

Smallness of NYC aside, dinner was ridiculously good. Things with B are ridiculously good. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I *may have* called him the b-word this past weekend. But don't tell anyone.



I was woken up this morning by someone ringing my doorbell...but by the time I got out of bed and made myself somewhat presentable, they were gone.

Upon leaving my building, I noticed a huge sign/rant taped up in the lobby.

Apparently, the gates that have been down for the past month at the closed dry cleaner across the street have been concealing rennovations to that building and its conversion to a wine bar. As neighborhood residents, we (the tennants and I) were supposed to be notified of this development and informed of the public hearing date related to the new business.

We're supposed to call and register a complaint with our local community board.

I'm REALLY glad that I didn't answer the door this morning, as I suspect it was my wacky building super, looking to commiserate on the evils of the wine bar. 'Cause I'm kinda psyched about having a new place to hang out...



Because I am crazy, I am naturally distrustful of anyone who is too nice to me. I am inclined to think that there are motives involved, or that something sinister is in the works. In fact, it's only after knowing me for a very long time that you can be completely sincerely nice to me without it setting off any alarm bells.

So it surprises me that my reaction to The Comedian has been a positive one. Because the niceness? It's pretty constant. (Well, as constant as it can be after only 3 weeks.)

He asks about my day and listens to the response. I mention, in passing, the new Harry Potter book, and he gets one for me. Even though he's a Mets fan (which I've magnanimously agreed to overlook) we're going to the Yankees game on Saturday. He wants to meet my friends, and gushes about me to his friends. He's already made super-secret dinner reservations for my birthday, which is a month away. When I stay at his apartment, my favorite cereal, soymilk, and coffee are available in the morning.

The biggest thing, though, is that he actively thinks about me. I had a semi-strange cardiology appointment on Tuesday, and he left a business lunch to call me to check how it went.

I'm still shying away from the g-word/b-word. But I'm guessing he'll be around for a little while.



So...the weekend in Vermont. Incredible and restful, as it always is. I was constantly reminded during my time up there how amazingly coincidental it is to intersect with people in your life in ways that feel small (at the time) only to end up hiking down a mountain with them and realizing that they are some of the closest/most important people in your life.

About that mountain: It was completely gorgeous and strenuous and challenged my assumptions that I am in good shape. We reached the summit after about 2 hours of uphill climbing, ate lunch and took in the incredible views...and watched (and heard) a thunderstorm approaching. Climbing down was a bit of a scramble to get under cover from the rain, all while trying to be careful on the slippery rocks. The storm was over before it began and DJ, LS and I distracted ourselves from our exhaustion by rapping for the remainder of the descent (BC and BG had the good sense to ignore us).

The rest of the weekend: chilling on the roofdeck, eating the yummiest of yummy foods, a 4 mile run, some shopping...oh, and a cancelled flight. I guess the weather was pretty severe in NYC on Sunday, because our Monday morning flight ceased to exist and we had no option for coming home until Tuesday (fine with me, probably not okay with my employer).

So we rented a car and drove through Vermont and Upstate NY and into the city. And rather than being an annoyance, time in the car became one of the highlights of the trip. (Although, I might feel differently than others, because I bailed and went to work, leaving the rental return to DJ and LS.)

And now, I'm back to my regularly scheduled NY life...


Baby Got Back

I've (triumphantly) returned from Vermont, where I climbed friggin' Hunger Mountain in a thunderstorm with my girls. We're such badasses.

Pics and details to follow...now I'm just sludging through my work day after getting up at 4 am to drive back...



I made an executive decision and called out sick from work today. Which gives me time to do all the stuff that I didn't have time to do this week, like purchase luggage, go to the library, and do laundry.

I also had a chance to catch up with L by phone. So I was telling her about my health insurance woes (because who doesn't want to hear that story a million times?) and at the end, I said, darkly, "Oh, I'll get my money..."

And she paused, laughed, and said "Ok, just don't get on the 11 o'clock news while trying to get your money." I think she's afraid I'm going to resort to desperate measures.

1199 is safe (for now) because I'm off to Burlington, Vermont for the weekend. Holla!


Joy & Pain, Sunshine & Rain

Had another brilliant night with The Comedian, only to reach work today and be stymied by my health care claims (still unresolved, and I finally just broke down and cried to the Quality Assurance Representative, or whatever she's called) and my job (the building where my office is located has been sold, no plans for our relocation).

Tryin' to keep it positive...chocolate might help.

UPDATE: (Job.) Several buildings are being considered as our new office space. The top pick is currently inhabited by pigeons and the homeless. During our team meeting, I jokingly suggested getting ABC/Ty Pennington/Extreme Makeover involved with the renovations, because, hey, I'm as good at making people cry as the next girl - and I'm starting to think it's not such a crazy idea after all.


Clearly, I Enjoy Spending Time In My Own Head

My horoscope today:

Some past dramas are easy to forget, but some are tougher to erase from your mind than they should be. Today you will be reminded of a past situation early in the day, and unsettling feelings will hover around you all day. This is just your subconscious working things out, so let it. Do not try to push these thoughts out of your head. Just let them fade away on their own -- they will. You cannot force yourself to forget something. It just has to go away on its own.

Lots of thinking going on over here. It's interesting that almost directly after receiving some unsettling news, I met someone, and am now negotiating a new relationship.

There's a weird kind of synergy between ending and starting.

And this new thing is kicking up all sorts of stuff for me - mostly closeness and over-analyzing and pushing someone away without even realizing you are doing it. Because, clearly, he's right there, and he's been open and honest and adult about everything. "I have problems trusting people", I keep telling him, but I'm really only trying to have faith in myself.


Stepping It Up

Last night, after Book Club, I went over to The Comedian's house for our first sleepover. (Interesting: he lives in the same building as the ARH.)

Things were going along just fine until he did something very shocking.

He called me the g-word. (And later on, he did it again.)

Yup, that's right. Girlfriend. He called me his girlfriend. Not as in, "Girlfriend, PLEASE", as in "I've included a bit in my routine about my new girlfriend."

I think that's me.

Almost as alarming: while I was lounging around my apartment this morning, the buzzer rang, and flowers (along with a funny, sweet note) were delivered.

The boy moves fast, I guess.


Doctor Visit

So...had my annual check-up this morning.

1. I think when my blood test results come back, the reading will be something like 90% white wine, based upon last night's celebratory happenings.
2. The other 10% will be pizza.
3. I got weighed. The number distressed me until I remembered that my clothing has got to account for at least 10 pounds of the total.
4. It was really strange to hear myself say that I started smoking at age 17 and quit in January 2007. I'm no math genius, but that's, um, 17 years of smoking.
5. My lungs sounded 'clear'.
6. Heart: still murmuring. Hopefully, after the EKG and Echocardiogram, I will be cleared to run the marathon.
7. The NP asked if I was currently in any pain. I considered telling her about my hangover, then decided against it.
8. The doctor asked about my job, commented that it must be stressful, to which I found myself saying "I love trauma."
9. What? Yeah, I don't know either.
10. The initial assessment was that I am 'healthy'. Fooled them!

Poetry The Morning After M's Last Going Away Party

I feel like crap.
I need a nap.
I can rap.



Waaaaaay back in 1994, when I graduated from college with a degree in English Textual Studies (no, I still don't know what that means) and was qualified to do...absolutely nothing, I got a job at Cellular One as a Customer Care Representative.

Did I "care", as the job dictated? No, no I did not. My workday basically consisted of a lot of angry people, screaming at me over their cellular service.

And this morning, I'm right back there as I enter round 100 of trying to get reimbursement from my health insurance provider. I'm using the same words/phrases as those jerks I dealt with so long ago...you know: "unacceptable", "ridiculous", "ludricrous", "put me through to a manager", etc.

I'm the jerk. I'm the jerk.


Planning Ahead

Here in ridiculous-land, the whirl continues. My apartment is becoming a place where I drop off my stuff and sleep for a few hours in between social engagements. I guess it has something to do with summer, and the need to make plans to be out and about while the weather is nice. (Although, that theory is slightly suspect, as it has been humid and shitty for the past several days.)

L is pretty wise about this. I was semi-bitching on the phone with her last night, about the need for balance and time on my own and blah, blah, blah...and she said, "Okay, but you're also a social person."

Very true, my friend. Very true.

So, in the spirit of remaining the lovely social butterfly that I am - it's time to start planning my birthday celebration. I'm hoping that LDK will want to join forces again for a Virgoan bash...and I also have a very nice offer to host a quieter celebration at DJ's apartment. (I could do both! Let's celebrate for an entire week!)

Either way, thinking about the options is far better than remaining in a state of denial about turning 35.


Run Like The Wind. Or A Slight Breeze.

I went running in Hudson River Park this morning. It was ugly. Very hot, very humid. I ran about 2 miles, then started walking. Then jogged/walked the rest of the way - eventually (and very slowly) completing 5 miles.


I could blame the residual effects of my latest bronchial infection. Or the weather. Or that I sat in Bryant Park last night, progressing from wine to beer and stuffing my face with cheese and crackers and all sorts of junk.

But I think I really just need to shut up about it and run. There's been a lot of talk about this marathon...not a lot of actual *doing* the training for the marathon.

In other news, had a nice short date (he was on his way to a show, I was on-call for my volunteer stuff) with The Comedian on Saturday. We ate cupcakes and played pool. He's cute. So far, so good.


My Brain Hurts...

...after spending all day at a meeting up in Rockland County, discussing branding and strategy for the communications sub-committee of this coalition that I'm involved with. Slowly, I think my job is taking over my life.

And then, on the 1 train coming home, some random dude was totally trying to have a conversation with me about yoga, which forced me to remove my ipod headphones and listen to his stupidity, which I really hate. Dude, nothing personal, but I've just spent 7 hours discussing crime victims and I need a little peace and loud music and no social interaction. M'kay?

Luckily, I'm home now, and I have a cold beer in the fridge, calling my name.


Match Addendum

Those I've ruled out:

- Someone who is an "urban hunter" looking for a "lioness/sexy partner".
- Someone who remembered me from the last time I was on match (I wasn't interested then, either), emailed me, waited 5 minutes, then emailed me *again* berating me for "being snobby" and "ignoring" him.
- A 21 year old, still living at home.
- Anyone who emails and clearly has not read my profile. Example: Emails from those who list tattoos, piercings, and sarcasm as "turn offs". I have all of those things.
- Someone who suggested we get together for a "rockin' good time".
- Anyone who unironically writes me a poem.
- Anyone who I appear to outweigh.
- Anyone who feels the need to announce that they are a doctor.
- Someone whose profile included a rant about being faithful in relationships.

Game, Set, Match

The activity on my match.com account has really picked up in the last week or so. A review of the contenders:

The Comedian
Day Job: Accountant
Hobbies: Stand Up Comedy
Status: First date, 7.10.07
Thoughts: On our date, there were times when I felt like he was performing his stand up routine for me. But he very sweetly brought me a pack of my favorite bubblegum, which I had mentioned weeks ago when we first started talking.

The Smart Guy
Day Job: Med./Grad. Student at Yale
Hobbies: Um, just getting through two degrees at Yale.
Status: Email
Thoughts: His emails are well written, witty, and interesting. He's got a degree in epidemiology, and is writing his doctoral dissertation on race and hospital care, which is pretty cool. Photos are a little blurry, though.

The Self Professed Geek
Day Job: IT Consultant
Hobbies: Geek Stuff (his words, not mine)
Status: match.com messages
Thoughts: Lives on Long Island and I'm not sure I could handle the long distance...even though it's not really that long. On the plus side, his emails are really funny.

Beach Guy
Day Job: Chemistry Teacher
Hobbies: Anything related to the beach.
Status: match.com messages
Thoughts: His protrait made me laugh out loud (in a good way). He's a little young, and lives on Long Island (see above).

Yoga Guy
Day Job: Freelance Art Director
Hobbies: Certified Yoga Instructor, Thai Massage
Status: Email
Thoughts: Absolutely love his emails, and anyone who wants to turn our first date into 'ice creamapalooza' is just fine with me.


Much Love

In the midst of The News (news that is neither good nor bad - it just is) that my ex-fiance is married to the woman he cheated on me with, thanks to:

The Lawyer, who offered to come over and sit in the dark and eat Ben & Jerry's with me;
MS, my very own cheerleader who listed all the ways that I have changed for the better since leaving the ex-fiance;
The Librarian, for asking about my date last night, thus keeping my thoughts somewhat in the present (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her, btw.) *and* for researching the character of Joe in 'When Harry Met Sally', hoping to be able to tell me of a fiery death;
DJ, who called last night and left a sweet message to see how I was feeling;
ESB, who texted from San Fransisco to let me know she was thinking about me and sending good thoughts my way;
L, who reminded me that it is okay to be thrown and sad and angry by The News;
My therapist, who left me snuffle into her tissues this morning;
Honeychild, who told me that my life being like a movie meant that I was slated for a happy ending.


Life *Is* Like The Movies

Sally: He just met her... She's supposed to be his transitional person, she's not supposed to be the ONE. All this time I thought he didn't want to get married. But, the truth is, he didn't want to marry me. He didn't love me.
Harry: If you could take him back now, would you?
Sally: No. But why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?
Harry: Nothing.
Sally: I'm difficult.
Harry: You're challenging.
Sally: I'm too structured, I'm completely closed off.
Harry: But in a good way.
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.



My health insurance battles continue.

I *have* received a check partially reimbursing me for my January medical expenses. However, December is 'somewhere in the claims department' and I'm just starting to reluctantly pursue all of the other months.

To add to the fun, they refuse to cover my prescription for Zyrtec which prevents my allergic reaction to cats. When I spoke with them this morning, they stated they do not cover any antihistamines, even with an authorization letter from my doctor. The good news is, I had no problem getting my inhaler, so at least when the allergic reaction happens, I won't have to go to the hospital.


Drawing upon the lessons about advocacy learned in both graduate school and in, you know, life - my plan is to present myself personally at their offices on Wednesday morning to resolve my claims. I have a bad head cold which might help my cause: if it continues as it has today, I'll be sneezing and snotting and blowing my nose all over the lucky claims agent who gets to help me.


Things To Do When You Find Yourself Awake At 2:38 AM For No Good Reason

  1. Catalogue mosquito bites on your legs from a few days ago, notice a few new bites, and start to think you have bedbugs again.
  2. Tear apart your bed (mattress, sheets, pillowcases, comforter, the whole deal) looking for phantom bedbugs.
  3. Track the stuff you will get rid of *this* time around if you do have to battle the bedbugs again.
  4. See a rogue mosquito during one of your searches, remember that you have a window open, and thus try to mentally walk away from the bedbug scare.
  5. Close your window and turn on the air conditioner.
  6. Try to sleep. It is now 3:12 AM.
  7. New mosquito bites start itching, turn on the lights, locate bendryl cream, apply.
  8. Bites still itch - wail on mattress in frustration. It is now 3:41 AM.
  9. Think about life a little bit. Specifically, your life.
  10. Get freaked out about not taking care of yourself, physically or emotionally.
  11. Talk yourself down the ladder again.
  12. Still wide awake, empty the clean dishes from the dishwasher.
  13. It is now 4:07AM.
  14. Force yourself to think calming thoughts. Realize it's not working.
  15. Wonder if drinking warm soymilk (the only kind of milk in the house) will have the same somnolent effects as warm regular milk.
  16. Nope.
  17. Get up to use the bathroom. You drank a lot of soymilk.
  18. Since it is now 4:38 AM and you are wide awake, pack for your weekend trip to DC.
  19. Assess clothing choices, repack for trip.
  20. For lack of anything better to do, tweeze eyebrows.
  21. Look up estimated time of sunrise on the internet. Think about taking a walk to see the sunrise. Dismiss idea.
  22. Water the plants.
  23. Get back into bed, and drift off to sleep at 5:17 am - 45 minutes before your alarm clock is scheduled to go off.


Isolation Booth

I had plenty of offers for things to do yesterday: picnic in Prospect Park, visit the Museum of Natural History, go out to dinner, eat a home-cooked dinner, watch a parade and fireworks in NJ, go to a movie night, indulge in an afternoon drinkfest, watch the NYC fireworks from a fabulous roofdeck, or go to the beach.

I chose to remain in my apartment for the entirety of the day, in my pajamas, alternately watching the Project Runway marathon on Bravo and napping.

The only active thing I did yesterday was to think about being described as 'guarded' by both a close friend and a stranger in a bar, within days of one another. If it happens a third time, I'm gonna have to believe it's true.


From The Home Office In...

Since Cherry did a list of 10, I'm gonna do a list of 10.

1. I am currently very, very tan. While on vacation, I used 30 sunblock all week but am still tan (thank you, 50% Italian genes!). I look really good tan. I know this sounds conceited, but seriously, I look good. I'm actually thinking it's a shame to waste my tan hotness on work right now. I should be out somewhere slutting it up.

2. I, too, feel like I am the only one at work today. I am debating going outside for lunch because I'm sure I'll see a parade of people, walking toward the subway, released at an early hour from their jobs.

3. Then again, it's freezing in my office and going outside would help me defrost.

4. One of the only things I miss about my corporate ex-job was the 'surprise' pre-holiday go home early. I'll be here until 8 tonight. Sigh.

5. After staying in my apartment while I was away, and with me through the weekend until this morning, MS packed up and left to go to work, then Boston. Where he lives now. It's gonna be a little sad to go home tonight and not have a roommate to giggle with.

6. Monday night drinkfest? Check. Druids? Check. Wine followed by beer? Check. Bad idea? Check.

7. In the immortal words of Phil Collins, Genesis, Abacab...I've received 'No Reply At All' to my missive to the ARH. Ah well. I thought about it during vacation, and realized that this is a man who didn't choose to be with me - not once, but twice. Surely I deserve something better than that.

8. Damn, it's really cold in here. Despite my self-professed hotness.

9. Has anyone tried the new 'Frosty Freeze' from Wendy's? Man, those are good. Once again, I'm going to choose to believe that milkfat is essential for marathon training.

10. And speaking of running, I really need to get my ass in gear. Everything is in place for November 18th (hotel, cheering section, race registration, gear) except for my ability to run 26.2 miles.



I'm home.

It was quite an adjustment to wake to my alarm this morning, blowdry my hair, and apply make up. Stuff my feet into high heels. Ride the subway. Sip coffee and listen to my iPod.

I'm trying to hold onto that vacation feeling for as long as possible. So, please, New York, keep your distance for a little bit longer...



I've never gone on vacation before when I've had social work clients. I'm worried about them. I've already alerted my co-workers about who they might be hearing from while I'm away...called each person to make sure they are 'okay' before I leave (or as close to okay as they can be)...and given my cell phone number (for emergencies) to our admin.

I just need to let go. Worrying about my clients isn't fair to them. Or to my skills as their therapist.

So...I've set my 'out of office' responses on email and voicemail. Cleared off my desk. Updated my files.

The only thing left to do is to get a pedicure and have some goodbye cocktails with MS & Groom.

Why am I blogging?


Madness. Madness, I Tell You

I'm going on vacation on Friday.

My first vacation since I started working last August.

I cannot explain how much I am looking forward to being away.


The mad dash to get ready to go on vacation at work (scheduling/rescheduling clients, reassuring clients, cleaning up my desk, wrapping up the school project for the year, attending meetings, finishing another grant, returning phone calls, etc.) and at home (packing, cleaning my apartment, errands, laundry, etc.) will almost surely be the end of me.

I haven't stopped. For about 3 weeks. It's going to take a significant part of my vacation just to slow down from the gearing up for vacation.

And somewhere, in the back of all this craziness, is me feeling just a little bit panicked that I am going to be in public in my bathing suit.

(And pushed even further down is the knowledge that MS & Groom will be moved out of the city by the time I return.)


I Am A Badass

Last night, after reserving precious lawn space at Bryant Park for the screening of Annie Hall, I ran over to the drug store to pick up a prescription that I had dropped off an hour beforehand.

When I arrived, I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the cooler, and took my place at the back of the 12 person line at the pharmacy counter. I noted that the store was not air conditioned and it was already unpleasantly hot. I opened my soda and began to drink.

I waited. And waited. And rolled my eyes and tapped my foot. And waited some more. I could feel everyone in line getting more agitated by the minute.

And then, something awesome happened. A woman near the front of the line, whose prescription had apparently been 'lost', started having a meltdown. A meltdown of epic proportions. She started screaming and swearing and saying she was going to faint. At one point, she even went behind the counter and into the room where the drugs are stored so she could yell directly at the pharmacist.

As her tirade continued, the people in line started mumbling about the wait and the ineptitude. This woman's freak-out was releasing a communal freak-out of sorts.

After another 20 minutes, I reached the front of the line, where 5 people were now yelling at the staff. I got my prescription (lucky!), paid, and ducked out of the commotion. As I was walking towards the exit, I noticed the bottle of Diet Pepsi in my hand. Unpaid for Diet Pepsi.

Paying would mean waiting in line again.

And as I walked out the door without stopping at the register, I convinced myself that the soda was payment to me, owed for my time spent waiting in line. Yes, that's right. I neglected to pay for my soda. Kinda sorta on purpose.

I HATE that drug store, and although they are all over NYC, I will make every effort to avoid patronizing them again. I'm not going to name the store, but it rhymes with, um, Schmane Need.


Bullets Are My Friend

  • Friday Night: The Librarian and I go to Bamboo52 for dinner. We take full advantage of happy hour until 9 pm. (Holla!). We eat a lot of sushi. We falter while doing the math on the bill. Later on, we are joined by MS and his friends who are in from Boston. We drink more. I freak out a little when the bar turns off the Yankees/Mets game in favor of the Daytime Emmy Awards. I tear up when asked about MS/Groom's pending move to Boston, and then realize it is time to go home.
  • Saturday morning: I meet up with HC for brunch. I decide I need a Bloody Mary. We journey up to tha Bronx for the Yankees/Mets game. She's wearing her bright orange 'Mr. Met' shirt. This goes over like a lead balloon with most Yankees fans, including me. We have some really expensive beers. We laugh uncontrollably at the concept that Mr. Met should be called 'fathead'. The good guys win. After the game, we meet up with JP and Buzzkill who only stay for about 10 minutes (Buzzkill strikes again!). Shortly after they leave, we are approached by Shaun, a 22 year old Yankee fan from L.I. and his friends Sam/Jeff (he used both names) and Bobcat (no, I'm not kidding). On the way home on the subway, HC and I wonder why we attract such random guys when we go out together.
  • Saturday night: I resist going across the street for a pint of ice cream. I read my book club selection. I watch crappy movies on TBS. I flirt with the idea that I am lame. Buzzkill strikes again! (Oh wait, this one's squarely on me.)
  • Sunday morning: I wake up thinking about the ARH. I had a strange dream about him during the night.
  • Confession time: (No, not at church. Don't you know me at all by now?) I sent him an email. I'm not sure what I'm expecting from this, probably nothing, but I feel good about what I wrote and about sending it.
  • Sunday afternoon: The Jerz. The deck. The sun. The Peanut.
  • Sunday night: NJ Transit. The rage. The train delays. The crowded subway. Finally, the apartment. The air conditioning. The bed.


Not Me

I'm so pissed off at the shit that's been going down at my job lately. Not the work, or the clients, or the kids on the school project.

No, I'm talking about my co-workers.

Yesterday morning, I was the sole employee in the office, covering the hotline while two people were at all day conferences, another was on vacation, and another was taking comp time. (This is not the first time in the past few weeks that this has happened.) Towards 1pm, in addition to everything else that I was trying to finish, I got a call to consult on a case that was in the hospital, which is a 10 minute walk from my office. With relief, I noted that one of my colleagues was due to arrive at work shortly. I figured she could at least cover the phones while I went to see the patient. However, while I was on the phone, she came into the office, and then, without checking in with me, promptly signed herself out to lunch for an hour.


I've been here, alone for the past 5 hours. Don't you think I'd like to take a break? Get something to eat? Because of this fucked up scheduling, my afternoon of comp time turned into me running out the door 1/2 hour before I would have left anyway. (So much for my glorious plans of clean laundry.)

There's no sense of teamwork here. This has been apparent from the very first day I came to work, but lately it's grown more and more obvious. Everyone looks out for themselves, their own schedule, their own activities. And despite my best efforts (group supervision, monthly team meetings) nothing changes.

The problem is that I'd like to do the same things. I'd like to schedule my time out of the office without thought to the impact on our clients or my colleagues. I'd like to tell everyone to fuck right off.

But I don't want to be that person.