December 2010


On My Birthday Eve, I was heaving my innards out for the first time since getting married.  I guess my leftovers for lunch were older than I thought.  We went over to visit friends, and my stomach was just aching.  A little before we left in a hurry (this is an example of foreshadowing!), our lovely host (who had just the most adorable beaglish puppy) offered us daiquiris.  Translation: delicious fruit slush with sprite.  Because we were driving.  And . . . I don’t know.  I requested just the soda, for my stomach, and sipped it for a bit.  Then I requested directions to the bathroom, went, peed, and promptly had to turn around and vomit into my own pee water at my husband’s ex-girlfriend’s parents’ house. Just let that sink in there for a minute.  It splashed on my face. The only way for me to get away from the supreme horror of this memory is to inflict it on others.  Hi Uncle!  Hi Aunt!  Love you!  After vomiting up everything I’d consumed in the previous say, six hours, and damn if part of my brain didn’t keep track and tick off each meal, there’s the chicken strips, yup, cranberry juice, aaaand there’s the rice casserole from lunch, I stared at my red face in the mirror and kept saying, “okay, okay, okay, okay.”  Then I went back to the living room and explained we needed to go home forthwith.
“Uh, why, honey?”
“Because I just vomited profusely in the bathroom.”
Frozen smiles on all faces.
“Ohhhhh. . . .okayyyy.”
Went home, tossed cookies once more, and then slept horribly all night having bizarre dreams that bad things would happen if I changed my sleeping pose.  The next day, at work, maybe two people asked if the vomiting indicated pregnancy, so i spent the rest of yesterday, my birthday, paranoid that it was evening sickness and double-checking each sensation of my innards to see if I was symptomatic again.  Also, I yakked so hard I asploded a capillary in my eye.
Ewwwww but cool.
But I didn’t lose it again last night, so yay!  Not pregnant!  Happy Birthday to me!
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Today is the in between day, as it has been for my entire remembrance.  It is the day in between my little sister’s birthday and mine.  In past years, the week between Christmas and New Year’s was exhausting.  We’d have Christmas, a day of rest (which, post-divorce, was often spent traveling to be with dad), LS’s birthday, the in-between day, MY BIRTHDAY!!!, two days’ rest, then New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, quite obviously back to back.  New Year’s Day is the day of extended family Christmas, therefore one must be functioning before 10 am that morning.
The in-between days were not fun, for me.  I knew they were necessary breathers in an explosion of celebrations, but as a kid, celebrations every day seems like a pretty good idea.  And while I’m on the subject of birthdays, did I tell you all about my little sister’s belief that, since her birthday came first, she was older?  Yes, she was quite young at the time, but anyone who knows my temper and need for attention and rightness knows exactly how much that would annoy me.  And how much I would flip out, demanding the truth be known!  Spread it through all the towns, to all the people of the nations, I’m totally the older sister and she’s being a jerk.

I went back to work today, after the holiday weekend.  I did not like it.  I like my work, I like my coworkers, I like having a schedule for my days.  However, I got there and within an hour was seized by the vague feeling that, since last week, I had forgotten something important, or had made a large mistake.  This phantom feeling refused to solidify into anything clearer than a general sensation of oh crap!  And that is annoying.  Also, the big boss is out of town and off the continent, so running things without him is rather tricky.  There are many a flying email, and if it turns out he’s not been enjoying his lovely family vacation, there will be a reckoning.

I found out today that my husband’s brother in-law is going to be playing a club New Year’s Eve here in Portland.  It’s kind of a big deal, because his other shows were open mic nights and then subsequent battles of the bands, which he and his band totally owned.  Anyway, they’re playing at six pm and while that’s not prime time, it’s still a nice start to the evening and it’s very, very exciting.

  • not notice a task assigned to me on the communal calendar
  • have an attack of silliness
  • have a nap attack
  • play catch with my office mate wherein I behave like a cat and bat the ball out of the air, causing her to have hysterics
  • listen to my office mate while I drink water, aspirating a small amount when attempting to laugh
  • play catch with my office mate while she is seated, causing her to flap her hand helplessly when the ball goes awry and rolls beyond her reach
  • crumple into a ball of giggles when she flaps her hand helplessly at the ball
  • sing along to Lady Gaga
  • sing along to Janet Jackson
  • practice the hip hop I learned in that one class at my gym that one time to the Janet Jackson song
  • practice the hip hop I learned in that one class at my gym in the bathroom just because it has a large mirror
  • practice the hip hop I learned in that one class at my gym where I could see myself in my skirt, tights, cardigan and heels
  • practice the hip hop I learned

I made my first roux yesterday!  It was for a sauce to go with the steak I cooked, and I did it all on my own, with nary a recipe.  I had one in my head, but it was rather cloudy and not too informative beyond having some sort of fat in a hot pan, cooking a bit of flour in that, then bulking it out with a liquid and seasoning with spices.  But you guys, I did it and it worked and it’s delicious!  Well, it was delicious for dinner last night and lunch today.

I figure a million other people used that title when writing about Inception, but I don’t care.

 

I’m just a little afraid to go to sleep tonight.

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