bruises

this morning was one of those mornings where you wake up and wish you did not remember so clearly the events of the previous night.  Due to the overwhelming amounts of snow that has fallen in the last few days, I have been homebound with my social interactions existing of text messages, emails, and the exchange of waves and “can you believe this snow” conversation with my various neighbors during shoveling shifts.  As such, when I was invited to go to the DL’s place for a power hour last night, I quickly agreed.   I filled my college backpack with Miller Lite cans and headed on my way.  What I did not think about was the fact that I have not really drank in over a month, I haven’t done a power hour in over ten years, and even during my heyday as a partier, massive consumption of liquids has never been a talent of mine.  

Sixty shots of Miller Lite later and I was feeling pretty good. Full, yes. Buzzed, oh yes.  But I felt moderately under control. That is, until I wiped out, not once but TWICE on the balcony and sustained serious bodily injury.  I have five total bruises on my right leg, one that is approximately the size of my fist.  Ouch.  These wounds will likely heal, although I am sure it will take some time.  What will not heal so quickly is the hits my ego took last night when I basically propositioned one of the DL’s guy friends to “walk me home.”   And yes, that was a euphemism.  He was simply trying to enjoy his late night Chili Mac when my inebriated self started talking and could not be stopped.  And there may have been more than talking.  Dang my wandering hands.  Even writing this is proving rather painful as I am replaying the unfortunate scene in my head and have to stop to cover my eyes.   I am hopeful he is a nice enough guy to keep this to himself.  I mean, he should be flattered that I blatantly came on to him.   Or at least, that’s the story I am sticking to.

the snow is falling…

and the power lines outside my house look mighty frail under all that snow currently piled on.  I can handle the snow panic, I can handle the grocery stores running out of food, I can EVEN handle being home-bound for multiple days…but what I cannot handle is being home-bound in the dark. 

This is a little embarrassing for a girl in her thirties, but I sleep with a night light on.  And a fan.  Both of these items are crucial to my achieving a good (or at least passable) night’s sleep.   My first night in a new place inevitably involves a lot of tossing and turning as I really do rely on my night light and fan.   I think part of my reliance on the night light is the fact that I have atrocious vision and waking up in complete darkness is pretty terrifying when you can barely make out the outline of your own hand.

I guess it should be noted as progress that I no longer sleep with a retainer.  So, all things considered, it could be worse.  I’ll take that.

snowpocalypse

it looks like yet another significant snowstorm is heading to my city this  weekend.  The weather folks have been throwing about words like “crippling” and “potentially paralyzing.”  There is even a rumor going around that the goverment is not being honest with us about the expected accumulation as it would cause mass hysteria.  Because the people around here are simply incapable of managing precipitation that falls from the sky. Especially the white stuff.

Case in point: before the First Snowpocalypse back in December, I made the mistake of going to the grocery store the night before the storm hit.  I really wanted to make cookies and needed the supplies, so I braced myself for long lines and barren shelves.  I chuckled to myself as I walked around, noting that in true DC style, my fellow shoppers had just about exhausted the store’s supply of toilet paper and bread.   I picked up my bittersweet chocolate, butter, and eggs and headed to the checkout line.  Of course, I had picked up some completely unnecessary items along but that’s to be expected when surrounded by paranoid people.   

While at the checkout line, I actually couldn’t stop myself from audibly laughing as the lines grew longer and I saw the panic on everyone’s faces.  People were shopping with determination, talking furiously on their cell phones, and frantically consulting lists.   The woman behind me must have noticed my amusement as she asked if this was my first snowstorm in DC.

“Oh, no. I’ve lived here for almost ten years, but I am from New Jersey so I am just not sure what the fuss is all about.  It is just a little snow.”

She narrowed her eyes and reminded me, “They are calling for close to two feet.”

I shrugged, “yes, I heard.”

She then looked at me, right in the eyes, and said “They could run out of food.”

I blinked. Slightly befuddled and amused.

She continued,  “The stores. They could run out of food. And there would be so much snow, that the trucks with more food wouldn’t get through.  We could run out of food.”

I politely, but firmly, informed her that such a scenario was highly unlikely and turned me back on her.   Part of me wanted to burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her fears, but another part of me wondered where her fears came from.  I mean, look at all that the people in Haiti have endured since the earthquake.  And in this society of mass consumption, all these crazy people overbuy at the mere mention of a few inches of snow that, at the end of the day, will simply cause us some minor inconveniences and maybe a severe case of cabin fever. 

I am too tired to head down that road and will simply settle for laughing at the mass hysteria, even if it results in way more snow than I ever want to see pile up on my super long driveway.

technology…

…may be the root of all problems between men and women.

Today, S got sworn in as a lawyer in his new state.  I txted this morning, “Happy Swearing In Day!”, but received no response.   I was not all that happy that my sentiments were not acknowledged – S always writes back, ALWAYS, he is nice and consistent like that.  I figured he was busy as last night I got a text apologizing for not being in touch as his transition was turning out to be not so seamless. 

Then tonight, I got a facebook chat (S is a recent joiner of FB, and let’s just say he is taking to it quite well) from him saying he sent me a Blackberry message this morning, which, of course, I never got.  We then exchanged a few typical banter-type comments and he declared he was heading for bed.

It is too much technology! I mean, I am not a fan of the phone, so I am happy to accept other options…but between emails, text messages, BlackBerry messages, gchats, and now Facebook-chat…trying to keep up with it all is just exhausting.

assistant shopping

a few weeks ago, my rock star assistant moved with her husband to Hawaii. He is in the Army and got transferred there for two years.   She found out in mid-November and broke the news to me.  I was immediately sad, and then jealous.   Apparently her husband gave her the option of not going with him, as it is a two year assignment and besides Hawaii, the options were South Korea and Alaska.   As soon as she heard “Hawaii,” she, of course, readily accepted.  Unfortunately, she still had about a month and a half left at the firm and she had a tremendous case of  I-could-care-less-about-this-job-since-I-am-moving-to-paradise-itis.  It was unfortunate for myself and the three partners she supported.    Still, I have fond memories of her as she was willing to drive me home from happy hours when I had a little too much to drink, which is always appreciated.

We have been interviewing replacements for over a month.  Unfortunately, you are dealing with super nice associate (ahem…that would be me) and three very particular, and very demanding, and VERY opinionated men.  This one did not have enough litigation experience, this one lived too far away, this one refused to stay late…and then this afternoon, we meet a very nice, and VERY upbeat, woman who I thought was just perfect.  Her kids are teenagers so her schedule is flexible, her commute won’t be great, but she’s well aware of that fact, and she wore cute shoes.  I was sold!  Of course, during the post-interview discussion, one of the partners whined that she did not seem to be intimidated by working for four attorneys.  Keep in mind, another partner had just finished criticizing today’s first candidate because she seemed nervous about working for four attorneys.  I looked back and forth at them in disbelief.   So we want someone who is scared to come work for us? Okay, fellas, that makes sense.   

I made my pitch for candidate #2 and cast my vote.  I think my vote only matters if it is same vote as the other three, but still – it is nice to be given a voice, especially when it turns out yours is the voice of reason.   

One sidenote – when she met the three of us (one partner was out today), she called me by my first name and the two male partners “Mr. X” and “Mr. Y.”  I hope that doesn’t mean she is going to be one of those assistants who focuses on supporting the partners and considers helping associates an afterthought.  Because, I must say, sometimes I look around and think “Am I the only one working around here?”  Okay, FINE, today was NOT one of those days. Today was more like “I am going to take a long lunch and clean out my inbox” type day.

the Three City Plan

so I arrived at the Three City Plan over the holidays after looking around at my life and deciding I was not content.  I needed to take charge of my discontent and figure out some way to be happy.  One of the main reasons I’ve been unhappy lately is my terrible, awful, no-good job.  And I feel like I am in a rut socially and so I thought a change was in order, a BIG change.  Hence, the decision to move.  But since I am going to Africa for about two weeks in July, and the Big Event will likely take place in August, it makes some sense to wait until the fall to relocate. Plus, moving in the dead of the winter? Yikes. 

The problem with having a plan that is really only the rough outline of a plan that will be executed in approximately nine months, is that I have waaaaaaaaaay too much time to think about the Three City Plan (or TCP, for ease of reference).  While in Nashville this weekend, we drove around and looked at all the different neighborhoods and I would close my eyes and try to see myself walking to get java, drinking a beer somewhere, or going for a run.   And I just made plans to go up and visit my parents, who live outside New York City (also a contender in the TCP).    They are going to check out the real estate section of the New York Times this weekend and then we will take a day trip into New York and wander around so I can again close my eyes and try to see myself walking to get java, drinking a beer somewhere, or going for a run. 

But I worry that I am overthinking this process.  S had an interview on Thursday, accepted the job on Friday, and gave his notice on Monday.  He moved about three weeks later.  And he wanted to leave earlier, but some logistical difficulties at his new place caused a delay.  When we had coffee before he left, he was facing a week in his house without having to work.   Usually a glass-half-full-kind-of-girl, I tried to say how nice it would be to take his time packing and saying goodbye to his home of ten-plus years.  He shrugged his shoulders and commented that maybe having a lot of time to think about the big change he was making wasn’t such a good thing.

And that’s what I am wondering for myself.   Having decided to do something nine months ahead of time is giving me over nine months to obsess about my options.  I wonder if having three possible cities out there is too much – maybe I should just pick one, rather than spend hours on the Internet thinking about my options.  If I go to NYC, should live in Manhattan? Or maybe Brooklyn? Should I rent or maybe buy? What kind of jobs should I apply for? Do I want to keep lawyering? Am I qualified to do anything else? Those last few questions apply to each of the three cities, but I am now worrying maybe sitting around, thinking about my options, weighing my choices, and generally overthinking this whole move, is not a very good plan.  I think it might make sense to shelve this decision for awhile as it may drive me absolutely batty.

i am a terrible blogger…

but right now, I am also a terrible lawyer so I thought maybe some blogging was a better way to spend my time on the couch this evening.

I have a few administrative things to catch up on before I launch into a more substantive post. First, my sister’s Big Event has been postponed due to some technical issues with the Catholic Church – in that, the annulment of my future brother-in-law’s first marriage has not technically come through so the May date is a no-go.  It looks like the Big Event is likely to be rescheduled for the end of August and the nuptials will take place outside at the reception site, rather than in the church my sister and I grew up attending.  While this may all sound very matter-of-fact, it has been nothing but and it has been a very rough time for my sister.  Also for my mom, who repeatedly comments to me that this “whole situation has been very difficult” on her.  While selfishly I appreciate the extra few months to find a date, as it is the end of January and I am no closer to wrapping up Mission Find Wedding Date than I was when I started this blog back in July.

In other news, S has moved.  About 400 miles up North.  I wish I could explain in words exactly how I feel about that move, but I am still working through it.  And all of the typical boy crap that happened before he left.  More to come, I am sure.

My final administrative announcement is the recent decision that I have made to relocate.  I am calling it the Three City Plan, as there are three cities in contention as a landing spot.  Each city has tremendous pluses and minuses and I am spending the next eight months working through them as I will most likely move around September.  Definitely more to come on that.

And actually, I just returned from a week in one of the Three Cities.  I was there for work and decided to spend a few extra days hanging around with my Best Friend who lives there.  Turns out, her husband was tied up with lawyering and she could use an extra set of hands to help wrangle her toddler.  At six months pregnant, she certainly has her hands, plate, and all other possible things full.  Best Friend and I are two very different people – different backgrounds (me Northern, she Southern), I was the first Irish Catholic she had ever met and she took me to my first Presbyterian service, she is blond and petite and always looks put together, I am a lanky brunette, all limbs, and often too lazy to bother with the too-expensive make-up I buy.    Despite these differences, we have managed to stay pretty close since our first meeting junior year in college.   We have not lived in the same place in almost eight years and sometimes the geographical distance feels huge.   And now, after spending four days together, living her life, I sometimes got overwhelmed by how different our lives had become.  She has an adorable (and super smart) two year old named William and another baby boy (name to-be-determined, but we ruled out a bunch in hysterics on Sunday night) on the way.   She lawyers part time, eats mainly organic, and subsists on very little sleep.  Instead of her drunken cries of “get in my belly!” and “let’s eat pizza,”  I heard “No SIR” when reprimanding her son.  It works like a charm – what a momma’s boy.   She is truly an amazing mother.

I laid awake most nights I was there, wondering if I would ever have the life she had – full of family, complete with a dog named after our alma mater.    It is not the bad type of envy that I feel, it is not the kind that makes us think ugly thoughts.   As someone I care about deeply, I do want for her every happiness that she deserves.  And she is happy in her life, tired but happy.  It is far from perfect and I am under no illusions about her life coming with trials and tribulations, just as mine does.  They are just different, that’s all.  

My heart absolutely melted whenever William would stand at Best Friend’s feet, arms outstretched, saying “Mommy hold me Mommy hold me.”   He looked up at her with eyes so full of need and adoration and outright love.   And so I am left wondering if those eyes of love and need are in my future.

sure, d-bag, I’ll take a ride to NC…

this past weekend, I headed back to my college town to attend yet another baby shower for a college friend.  I managed to squeeze in both a basketball game (win!) and football game (loss!), so that part was worth it.  The drive to NC is about five hours, on a good day, and that is sort of a little too long for my ole car.  Ergo, I reconnected with this guy via Facebook and he met me Friday afternoon for our drive down.

I am going to have to cal him D-bag.  Because while he tries very hard to cast himself as a “nice guy,” he is most certainly a douchebag.  Within 30 minutes of our road trip, D-bag was telling me about his last relationship.  He and his girlfriend had dated long-distance for a few years and broke up because she was ready to get married and he wasn’t.  So they broke up.   He is not really dating even though he is technically single. He is, and I quote, “weighing options.”   I managed to look out the window while rolling my eyes.  I inquired as to what options he was weighing, and he said, and again, I quote, “well, I have a standing offer.”   He went on to explain that while the pair had broken up, she had made it clear that if he were to change his mind and decide marriage was for him, he could simply show up at her doorstep and the door would always be open.

I am sorry, WHAT? I get girls who are willing to put up with crap from guys.  Heck, I’ve been that girl for months. Multiple months.  But here is a guy who has broken up with her twice because he was not ready to commit (yes, there was a first break-up for similar reasons) and she sends him packing – but with a prepaid ticket to come back when and if he so chooses.   I really could not believe the D-bag’s hubris.  He told me the name of the girl and I found her Facebook page and debated whether or not it was appropriate to write the following on her wall:

“love the new song! btw, i think you should write a song about how your non-boyfriend is a complete d-bag. message me for more info!”

I have resisted, however.  Haven’t ruled it out, but so far, I have resisted.  The “more info” that I reference in my faux wall post would be the fact that he was completely flirting with me on the ride down, during the various sporting events I attended via text message, and, in case I wasn’t sure he was a d-bag, pretty much the entire ride back.

The pros to this guy are that he is tall (plus), liberal (double plus), appreciates the comedy genius that is “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” and appreciates a Bojangles chicken biscuit.  While these may be the top characteristics I look for a guy, the douchebaggery is just too glaring to overlook.   AND, what may be the kicker, he wears mandals.  I think I’d rather date a Republican.

Besides who am I to interfere with what is obviously true love  – a standing offer? Be still my beating heart.

true fan

just returned home from a day spent watching my college football team lose to one of our nation’s service academys.  While I always feel slightly unpatriotic  rooting against our service academies, I find some way to overcome those feelings and cheer for my boys.  Today, however, involved rooting for my boys in a torrential downpour.  I was amply prepared for the bad weather, with polka dot galoshes and protective rain gear.    I had a little bourbon before heading into the game, which was meant to dull the effects of the pouring rain.   Unfortunately, my boys played terribly and the skies just opened up in the second half.   My friends took that as a sign to head on home, but I had driven another friend’s dad to the game and as a former player, he refused to leave until the bitter end.  I wandered around the stadium trying to stay dry and headed back in for the fourth quarter.  My boys made one last defensive stop and gave the ball back to the offense to bring a victory home.   Despite the pouring rain, we were given a great opportunity and the few remaining fans rallied together behind our team.   Even though a few hours has passed, I still remember feeling so much pride as I stood with this soaking wet group of fans, hoping for our boys to pull out one last touchdown.

Then we went 3 and out, my friend’s dad called to say he was ready, I took one look around at my fellow fans, and ran for the warmth of my car.  Maybe “True Fan” is a bit of an overstatement.

found!

tonight, I came home and made one last sweep of my living space for my parking sticker.  AND I FOUND IT! I am relieved and can only hope this is a sign of better things to come.  Also, this morning, I logged onto the ole FB account and discovered a very flirty email from a guy friend from college.   Seeing as the vast majority of my male interactions come from either my co-worker who drives me crazy and my former co-worker discussed in the last post who is also currently driving me crazy, this email was just the slight boost I needed.

As to my former co-worker (I am struggling with an alias for the blog and let’s face it, there is still more to come on this situation), the texting cooled off for a few days following the confirmation on Sunday night that yes, in fact, something was going on and no, he did not want to talk about it.  He leaves on Saturday for a cross-country drive and I am hoping that distance will not make the heart go fonder, but in fact make the texts less frequent.  

Since I am typing on my computer into between typing texts on my blackberry, I am not very optimistic.   I am trying to formulate a strategy on how to proceed, but I am at a loss.  I don’t want to ignore his texts, and I am quite confident that I simply lack the willpower to do that.   One of my friends, who is engaged, told me today that if she ever picked up her fiance’s phone and saw countless texts from a girl she didn’t know, she would be very unhappy.  I agree! I completely agree! And that’s the knot that has been lodged in my stomach for three months.   The knot is the physical manifestation of the Irish Catholic Guilt Complex.  There’s nothing wrong with married men having female friends; but when the married men keep the friendship secret, that’s when things take a turn for the worse.   And maybe  you will disagree, but I think the single girl just trying to have a male friend always winds up as the villain in these stories. And I am not a villain; I am a nice, albeit rather confused, single girl looking for love.  Contrary to how it may appear, I am not looking for my love in another couple’s marriage. 

I remember when I first met S’s wife (I just picked a letter at complete random).  S and I had been working together for over a year, grabbed coffee in the mornings, and had lunch almost every day.   I was excited to meet S’s wife because I figured we too could be friends.  We met at a party hosted by another co-worker.  S walked in with his wife after I was already there – they made the rounds and eventually arrived at my corner.   

S said, “Wife, this is LG.  She also works at the courthouse.”   He said in a rather flat tone, like he had just introduced his wife to the mailman.  “Wife, this is the Mailman. We do not know one another, but wave hello when we see each other on the street.” 

I smiled brightly and searched her face for a glint of recognition.  Surely I had been mentioned at some point.  She was polite and friendly but clearly had never heard of me before.  I recovered quickly and talked to her for a while.  I wanted to be friends with her, because she was G’s wife and it made sense to me. 

Now, over two years later, I find myself flashing back to that meeting and wondering what she thought of me.  Did I want her to like me because I knew back then that maybe the work relationship was not entirely proper? I don’t know, but I suspect I’ve always had an inkling that we talked more than we should.  And these are the things that I think about on Thursday nights when I really should put the blackberry down, go out,  and meet an available guy.