#44: Has it really been that long? (Or: My ability to craft a witty and/or intellegent entry has completely left me if I ever had it to begin with)

Frankly, I'm a little embarrassed to post this entry because 1) it's been so long since I posted that I can see you all thinking "What, she's still around?" or "Who is this? Am I being Punked?" (or now "Oh my god, she is so out of touch that she is still using Ashton Kutcher references in her blog.") and 2) after trying to write something funny about my life over the last 9 months I've realized that I am possibly the most boring person on the planet.

After not posting for 9 months I feel like I should be talking about my training for and conquering of Mt. Everest, or my recent trip around the world as the skipper of a sail boating crew, or the life-changing volunteer work I did to clothe the designer-challenged chiuauas of the Yucatan. Instead, this is what I've been doing the last 9 months: moved to Atlanta, worked, worked, worked, worked, worked, worked, WORKED, bought a house, WORKED, WORKED, went to England, worked, worked, WORKED, WORKED, WORKED, ad infinitum (but with much more working).

Look at that, 9 months worth of blogging summarized in one sentence. Boooooooring!

My job moved me to Atlanta to help start a marketing department to serve our offices in Georgia, which is an honor, to be sure, but the amount of work here has been staggering, and quite frankly unexpected by both me and Corporate. I work an average of 11-12 hours a day. A 10-hour day is a good day. This doesn't leave me with a whole lot of energy to come home and cook, exercise, or even interact with my co-residents, human or canine, let alone write. Luckily a happy little helper was recently hired. Unluckily, I have not been able to transmit my knowledge directly into her brain and am therefore spending time training her. Luckily she is responding well to pressure and is extremely willing to help. (Poor thing stayed late on her second day to help me finish a project.)

Sir and I are loving in Atlanta. He likes his new job and I living in a city with so much to do. Within a couple of months of living here we had already done more stuff than we ever had in North Carolina. (I'm not knocking NC - it's a beautiful state I really liked it there, but apparently I'm a city girl. Who knew?) (Although I am missing the beach.) We've done the politically incorrect Tomahawk Chop at Turner Field; we've scrutinized the abstract "art" at the High Museum; we have rarely been to the same restaurant twice and have a long list of others we're dying to try; we've spent the day at Piedmont Park; we've window shopped in all the little couture/punk/college neighborhoods; we've been to the aquarium and the world of coke; and I still feel like we've explored only a small fraction of what there is to see here. Unfortunately we're on a break from the city until both of our work schedules retreat a few notches down the CRAZY ASS LONG HOURS meter.

Oh, and we bought a house. That's been taking up some time, too. We moved in the middle of August then promptly left the country for a vacation (with all of our belongings sitting in an empty house, conveniently prepackaged in moving boxes - like fast food for burglars!). We went to England with MamaSir and DaddySir. It was a fun, exhausting time. Sir took more than 1,100 photos and I think we walked more than ... I don't know dozens miles? All the maps we bought were in kilometers and it makes my head hurt trying to do the conversion.

When we got back I was relieved to see that all of our belongings were here but disappointed that they had not unpacked themselves as I had instructed. Nor had the house magically cleaned, decorated, or painted itself. I am really not convinced that we got our money's worth on this property.

Our neighbors seem cool. We're in a really mixed neighborhood. We've got a family of four next door, a middle-aged single woman on the other side, grandparents across the street, and a group of "artsy" type people down the road. Let's just say that the "artsy" people have a very interesting idea of maintenance and "decoration" of their yard and house. Appearance aside, everyone has been very friendly.

I'll have to write more about our neighborhood and its proximity to a convenience store that is only convenient if you are looking for wigs and/or beer (seriously.) in another column because I feel this one getting away from me. I've written three or four of these things and then they become outdated or I take a few days away from it and come back and think "Who wrote this? This is awful. And so very very boring." Which is why there has been minimal editing on this post. I apologize for that. But hey - it's up here. And thus the unintended hiatus is over. (Bwhahahaha.)

(I don't know it felt like it needed an evil laugh.)

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#43: Wash, Rinse, Repeat

I have the forms; they’re right in front of me. All I have to do is sign. I’ve already told them that Sir and I have made up our minds. Two signatures are all it will take – far, far fewer than it took for us to become man and wife. I don’t even have to know what county my mother was born in for these documents.

This is a good thing. Right? A good opportunity, the right decision for my family, perfect timing, best for us and them – everyone wins. Then why do I feel like I’m going to throw up every time I look at the forms? Maybe I am catching the stomach bug that is going around the office. The one that everyone swore they were over before they came back to work and celebrated my birthday by touching the candles that went into the cake they bought me. Crap.

We evaluated all of our options; we thought about it; we explored; we thought some more. We’ve even considered how this will affect the dog, we have so thoroughly explored the consequences of this decision. Not that Oakley isn’t a member of our family who deserves consideration, but seriously, the dog. I’m sick of thinking about it. Of course once I sign these forms, I’ll be IN it for… well, the foreseeable future. I guess I won’t be able to avoid thinking about it then. I feel sick, I feel sick, I feel sick.

I worry. Those two words describe me pretty aptly. At any given time I am worrying about at least a dozen different things – that deadline, this document, what are we going to have for dinner, do we have food in the fridge, is that shirt ironed, is Sir ok, does Oakley have to pee, did I leave the burner on, did I lock the door, etc. In the middle of a conversation, Sir will catch me gazing somewhere over his left shoulder with knitted brow and slack jaw and ask what’s wrong. Instead of giving him a grocery list of worries that have just occurred to me right then, I usually apologize and say, “Nothing.” (Now you know.) But at this specific moment, I will tell you that I am worrying about the path we have chosen not to follow. Would we be happier if I didn’t sign these papers? In six months will we look back and miss how we are right now? Will things be hard? Will things go as planned? Ultimately, Sir and I agree, this is the best thing for us. It is. But God, I don’t want to do something that will eventually… I don’t know. Suck, I guess.

Everyone seemed pleased when I told them. That’s a good thing. Of course I have other people yet to tell who maybe won’t be so thrilled. Or maybe they will be and I just worry they won’t. It’s hard for me to tell the difference sometimes; I am so inclined to automatically think the worst. The group that we’ve told has been so supportive and wonderful that it really cemented the decision for us. Well, until I saw the forms anyway. Seeing it in writing just sets a certain finality to things. The documents promise that everything will be different by X date. And that’s that.

But we’ve done this before. It was terribly difficult, especially for me, but this time it will be so much easier in so, so many ways. I have to keep reminding myself that we’ve made the decision already. After months and months of discussion (that went on and on and on and on, good grief get me some wine), we have made our decision. It is the right one, I know it.

Ok, here I go. Deep breath and remember to sign with your new last name (you’d think after six months I’d have that down). This is a good thing. Don’t barf, don’t barf, don’t barf.

Now it’s official. We’re moving to Atlanta.

(hurl)

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#42: Now I want some Christmas cookies

For years my dad has been the hardest person to shop for at Christmas. He likes books, but I never know what he has read. He likes tools, but I never know which ones he’ll actually use. He loves gadgets and that’s pretty much what I’ve gotten away with giving him for the past 26 years of my life. (Good grief, I just wrote “past 24 years of my life.” I’m losing my mind in my advanced years.) (27 tomorrow!)

The first Christmas Sir and I were an official couple, I thought, “Wonderful! A male counterpart who can give me insight into what a dad/man would want for Christmas!” Instead what I got was another male in my life with ambiguous desires. Not only was Sir quite often uncommitted about what he wanted, but when he did finally decide, he’d up and buy it for himself mere days before the holiday. I must have returned a dozen Christmas gifts those first few years we were together. Last year I specifically told him what he was not allowed to buy for himself (up to and including underwear and socks) between October 19 (his birthday) and December 25. This year we have instituted Christmas lists and I have already had to talk him out of impulse buying a couple of items he wants.

Yes, I thought Sir was going to ease my holiday shopping stress, but nope! (Who loves you, baby?) Especially since not only does he rarely know what he wants, he doesn’t have the foggiest idea of what to get his family. It’s not like he spent 20+ years of his life getting them gifts without me or anything.

That leaves me with a hard-to-buy-for dad and husband AND a whole other set of new family members for which I need to shop. I think I’ve done pretty well with the gifts I’ve picked out so far for the women of both families (I hope so anyway. Please smile and nod and wait to trash the gift until after I’ve gone!), but damn if I’m not stuck on the dads again this year. I even got a Christmas list from one of them and I’m still stumped.

I’ve been to the edge of the internet and back, even consulting the “get the perfect gift!” profiles on some websites, but I still haven’t found anything that says “Dad” to me. And I really don’t want to be the loser who has to schlep her way into the mall on the night of Christmas Eve. Speaking which, Sir prefers to do all of his holiday shopping at the absolute last minute on Christmas Eve. This preference completely baffles me. I like to get all my shopping out of the way early and put all the pretty packages under the tree on Christmas Eve so I can partake in more meaningful Christmas activities such as gorging myself on cookies and other fine holiday-type delicacies, like green and red M&Ms.

Does anyone else like the last-minute shopping? I know my dad does. Is it a man thing? Or are there just people who’d rather not take part in the Starbucks-fueled crowd of crazed holiday shoppers dragging their screaming children to Santa Claus and elbowing their way to the front of cashier lines for that monogrammed sweater Grandad MUST have and another new toaster for Aunt Sue?

Ok, when I say it like that, it almost does sound better to be able to roam the roomy, deserted hallways of a Christmas Eve mall that are littered with the remnants of plastic holiday bags, soft pretzel wrappers and framed by the defeated smiles of another generation of minimum-wage store clerks who have been brain-washed from listening to the same six Christmas songs for the past three months.

To me, shopping online is the best choice. I can do it wearing pajamas while on the couch where, without moving more than my arm, I can reach my glass of wine, my M&Ms, and my Ipod. (Which is loaded with Christmas music – six songs, on repeat actually. Heh.)

Now what was I talking about? Oh yeah, stupid men and their stupid hard-to-buy-for...ness. Why do I stress about this, seriously? They would be happy with anything I got them. Or pretend to be in my presence. (Maybe I should make them all hand-made ashtrays – none of the smoke – and try that theory out.) It’s just that the best part of Christmas for me is when someone opens a gift they really like, one that they didn’t even know they wanted but are thrilled all over themselves that they got. Now which do ya’ll think says “I’m a big fan of yours, big guy” better - a Hillary Nutcracker or Pop Art Holiday-Theme Toaster?

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# 41: So This is Awkward

Hi. It's been awhile, hasn't it. Wow 5 months? Really? You look good. Have you lost some weight? ... This is a little awkward, meeting you like this. I've been meaning to write, you know. No, really I have! I even started to write once - about the wedding. But it got so long (it's sitting right around 10 pages) and I didn't want to bore you. I mean, our wedding wasn't boring, but nothing went wrong. And stuff going wrong makes me seem funny. I'll eventually post the wedding story, but I need more time. I want it to be accurate, but I also want it to be entertaining and 10 pages of "and then we went out to eat with our parents" is not entertaining. (Except maybe to our parents - hi parents! I can't believe I have four of you now!)

But I admit that I have been slacking. So! Here is what I've been up to since April:

1. I became Mrs. Sir


2. My husband and I went to Jamaica for our honeymoon (This is the view from our room.)


3. Got me a new computer as a wedding present from my dear husband (Oakie says "I'm stealin' ur internetz.")


4. I read the new and last (sniff) Harry Potter (Oakie enjoyed it but felt there were one or two instances of misrepresentations of character.) (And no, I did not pose him for this picture.)


And finally -
5. Worked. And worked and worked and worked and worked. In fact, I would say that since we got back from our honeymoon, I have stayed late at work 75 percent of the time because I have so much work to do. I even brought work home to do this weekend - which is nuts. Everyone knows that weekends are for sleeping in late and going to the movies (which just goes to show you that I am in no way ready to have kids).

Hmm. Besides the wedding, I have been a boring-ass person this summer. No wonder I haven't updated. ("Dear online journal, Today I worked a lot! Love, Me")

Anyway, I'm glad we're talking again. I kind of missed you!

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