Well yes, I guess I do still love him, laggin. Just haven't thought about him for a while, but this helps.

Yesterday. Arghh. L, one of my best buds from high school and college who now happens to work at the same company as me, carpools with me to work. She also works in the same department I am moving over to (although in a different sub-department). Yesterday was the holiday party for this department at a loft downtown, and we are both going straight after work. So I decide to drive that day, and her husband will meet her at the party, stay a while, and drive her home. I will drive myself to my friends's house after the party to pick up the boys, get them home, fed, and to cub scout meeting by 7pm (not very realistic even if things went smoothly, but you may have guessed by now that they did not). Velo-dude is not in the picture this day, because cyclocross Nationals are in town and he is racing late afternoon. This is a bfd for him, he's been anticipating it forever, so I don't even think about asking him to come to the party. So, L and I decide to run a quick errand to World Market at lunch to grab a bottle of wine to take. We pick up a few other things while we're at it, we finish, we pop our purchases in the trunk (except for the bottle of wine each of us had purchased to take to the party), and I shut the trunk. Keys? Hello, where you are? Keys in trunk. D*mn! Try to call velo-dude. He is probably out pre-riding the course. No answer, no call-back. L proceeds to call everyone she can think of in her (oh yeah, "our") department, but of course it is still lunchtime and no one is around. Of course she leaves a message explaining our predicament to everyone she calls. Finally gets a hold of someone who picks us up and take us back to the office. No problem. Other than that now, EVERYONE in my new department has found out what a FLAKE I am!!!! Arghhh. Well, we all laugh about it. I finally track down velo-dude by calling his friend's (er, boss') cell phone, he's also out at the race venue, and ask him to walk over and tell velo-dude (eww, I just realized I can't abrreviate his name in this story--VD, not good for a mate) to check his voice-mail. Finally velo-dude calls back, thankfully not irritated with my blunder, and decides he will leave the venue immediately after his race, go pick up boys, backtrack significantly to come pick me up, get the car, we all go home. That'll work. Meanwhile, L's brownies she made for the party are locked in the car. The cheese & cracker tray I brought is safely at the office, convenient eh? At least we have the wine. It all works in the end, make it to the scout meeting 1/2 hour late, ah well. Still hearing snide remarks about keys and trunks today at work though.

The slightly bizarre thing is that velo-dude locked his keys in the van about 3 weeks ago at a race, and spent an hour or so getting in with a clothes hanger (I didn't have that kind of time). Now I honestly can't remember the last time either of us did this. Have we EVER done it since we've been married? Oh wait, I did it once about 12 years ago. But I think that may be it for the last 18 years. And both of us, in a 3-week time span? Go figure.

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Today: New boss, new job, same company. Very excited. A little nervous. Change of course brings anxiety, but should be all good in the long run.

Did I mention I love(d) David Bowie?

To reveal, or not to reveal

Apparently I don't much like revealing myself to others. I made the following countdown meme a while back after rowan politely hinted at it, but I didn't post it. Just wrote it up and sat on it. Still don't like it. It doesn't really reveal anything about me. Maybe that's why I don't like it, because I know it doesn't say much, and that seems to be about all I can do. Despite it's thinness, I'm putting it up.

Commenting on a post of rowan's reminded me of one of my big academic weaknesses. Interpreting poetry. You must realize that academically, I am not programmed to fail, but in this particular area I have no aptitude whatsoever. Whatever passing grades I managed to eke out were the result of a combination of brute force, begging for help, and perhaps a teacher taking pity (? hope not, but sure seems a possibility). It actually brings back unpleasant memories of a seemingly endless high school assignment. Loca got Carl Sandberg. I got Dylan Thomas. Why? Okay, I'm leaving that bad place in my mind. Really do not like to fail.

Battle of the Bulge update (heretofore to be referred to only as the BOB): friend at work decides to implement a second component to her exercise plan (she's the one who does the underwater treadmill, which I have not revisited but should). Friend invites me and two other friends to join her in a 15-minute power session of stair-climbing at work every day. Last Thurs was our first day; did 4 up and downs of 6 stories (basement to sixth floor) in about 12 minutes, that was all we could do. At about midway through the 5th flight, every time I get there, I cannot help but hear Jane Fonda in my head, "feel the burn". And burn it does. Repeated the exercise on Friday. Everyone is very impressed at how gung ho I am. I am too. Until Saturday morning. I live in a split level, and walking downstairs is extremely painful. I involuntarily spout out "ooh ah eh ah..." as I walk down. Velo-dude is too amused, and feels compelled to imitate my attempts at going down without using my quads. Pinky has friends over, and they ask Pinky what's wrong with his mom as they see me attempt the stairs. Sunday not much better. But, I did it again Mon and Tues, so we'll see how tomorrow feels.

Alrighty, I need to go to bed. Here's the countdowny nonrevealing thingy...

TEN things you want to say to TEN people right now:
I love you.
Why not?
Why?
You inspire me.
Help.
Keep doing what you do so well.
Please listen.
Thank you.
I love you, but/and you REALLY need a new roof. Dammit.
I miss you.

NINE things about yourself.
I love my boys.
I am afraid of dead birds.
I am lazy.
I have stacks & disks of photos that I fear I will never organize (Pinky is 9 and I still don’t have his baby book done).
I love to cook new things, but have resigned myself to not doing much of this until the boys are older.
I have periods of my life where I obsess about what happens when you die (I have just come off of one of those periods in the past couple of weeks…it lasted a few months. ugh).
I am smart enough to know I shouldn’t look this way, but I am not resolved enough, or confident enough, or happy enough, to change it.
I am convinced I will die by a strike of lightning.
I lean to the left. Sometimes strongly.

EIGHT ways to win your heart.
Dust my house.
Draw me a picture.
Make me laugh.
Flowers.
Compliment me.
Tell me you appreciate my efforts, even when they fall short.
Surprise me.
Hug me.

SEVEN things that cross your mind a lot.
Pinky.
Curly.
What happens at death? (I know, redundant, see above)
Future
Finances
Current economy
Why do brothers fight? So? Much?

SIX things you do before you fall asleep.
Let dogs out.
Check Pinky, roll Curly over.
Brush teeth.
Weigh.
Snuggle briefly with one or both dogs.
Crossword or read.

FIVE people who mean a lot to you at the moment.
Velo-dude
Pinky & Curly
Dad
Brother
I have only a handful of close friends, but they all mean a lot to me.

FOUR things you really enjoy doing.
reading
cooking
playing games with my boys
right now…quiet time, curled up on the couch, room lit by only the Christmas tree. Really.

THREE things you absolutely hate:
smart people who support stupid politics
seeing my children in emotional pain
seeing my children in physical pain

TWO places you want to travel to that you’ve never been before.
Outer Banks
South America
(this was a tough one…I traveled to so many places with my parents when I was young. I would love to go back and do some again as an adult, but that’s not the question!)

ONE confession.
I confess that I am no good at confessions.