At some point, I was just done being depressed. I can't explain it anymore than I can explain how I got so depressed in the first place, despite my conscious thoughts willing me to feel differently. I didn't even get catatonically depressed when my mom passed away, and trust me that was way more significant than losing my job. Way more.
But Dear God I hope that such a funk never happens again because it was horrible. When I wasn't driving around listening to Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides, Now" on repeat (see - horrible), I was sitting on the couch unable to move.
Like I said, I don't know what happened to change things back to normal. At first, from time to time, and without warning, I would still feel a little pain in my heart and get angry and sad again, but then it would go away as quickly as it came. And now, if for some reason I start to think about where I am now in relation to where I was just over a year ago, I don't get angry or sad. I'm just here.
I'm here. Today is warm. There are bright yellow tulips on my desk.
I finally feel like finishing the paint job in the bedroom with that Ralph Lauren Sanctuary blue, even though the one and a half walls that I did manage to paint before my funk do resemble the color of halls I have seen in hospitals. Although I am no longer depressed, I am wondering if I am otherwise certifiable because I keep hoping that actually painting the other two and a half walls will improve my opinion of the color.
Oh, and did you know that you can download tv shows onto iTouch? Why had nobody brought this to my attention sooner? All this time at work I could have actually been getting something done rather than just sitting there doing data entry!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sleeping with Spiders
I have not one but two spider bites on my shoulder. Both bites are the same size, so we are going to assume this was the work of a lone spider, and not a posse of them. This is terrifying on so many levels.
I suspect that (1) it was either living in my shirt in the closet and bit me when I got dressed, or (2) crawled on me while I was sleeping. Neither is the better answer.
If it crawled on me while I was sleeping, it probably either lives in my ear now or it crawled in my mouth and I ate it. The bites are only inches from my face. It had to go somewhere from my shoulder. I knew an ER doc who said he spent a lot of his time fishing insects out of ears. Do you ever hear a clicking in your ear? Bug.
I had a college roommate who was bitten by a brown recluse spider and it was later discovered by the bug guy that her web (the spider, not the roommate, although she was kind of creepy too) was behind our stereo. And here's the thing, he wouldn't remove the web with the nest of babies - something about waiting for the mama spider to come back to it or something - I don't remember the whole story because that was all I needed to hear to move back in with my parents.
However, my parents shortly thereafter had a spider living on the front of their house that was so big that they called the zoo. This thing was the size of a rat - God's honest truth. People walking or driving by would stop and gawk at it. The zoo came out and then proclaimed they didn't want it because they already had one. So what do you do about that? One day it just up and left. If it went Southwest, it would have needed to buy two seats.
The moral of this story - if you have a spider issue, you are pretty much on your own. Neither the zoo nor the bug guy cares.
I guess its better than getting bitten by a killer whale.
I suspect that (1) it was either living in my shirt in the closet and bit me when I got dressed, or (2) crawled on me while I was sleeping. Neither is the better answer.
If it crawled on me while I was sleeping, it probably either lives in my ear now or it crawled in my mouth and I ate it. The bites are only inches from my face. It had to go somewhere from my shoulder. I knew an ER doc who said he spent a lot of his time fishing insects out of ears. Do you ever hear a clicking in your ear? Bug.
I had a college roommate who was bitten by a brown recluse spider and it was later discovered by the bug guy that her web (the spider, not the roommate, although she was kind of creepy too) was behind our stereo. And here's the thing, he wouldn't remove the web with the nest of babies - something about waiting for the mama spider to come back to it or something - I don't remember the whole story because that was all I needed to hear to move back in with my parents.
However, my parents shortly thereafter had a spider living on the front of their house that was so big that they called the zoo. This thing was the size of a rat - God's honest truth. People walking or driving by would stop and gawk at it. The zoo came out and then proclaimed they didn't want it because they already had one. So what do you do about that? One day it just up and left. If it went Southwest, it would have needed to buy two seats.
The moral of this story - if you have a spider issue, you are pretty much on your own. Neither the zoo nor the bug guy cares.
I guess its better than getting bitten by a killer whale.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Do Not Fear the Easter Bunny
When I saw the first Easter Bunny of the season, it struck fear in my heart - nasty rodent with razor sharp teeth, disturbing pink eyes and a penchant for evil. Last year, my son placed an Easter Bunny sticker in my calendar and he just happened to stick it on the calendar day that I got laid off. Ever since, I have associated the Easter Bunny with unpleasantness.
But then I realized that all those damn stuffed bunnies also mean something else besides evil - they mean Spring is right around the corner, and I have never been more ready. When the clock struck midnight and it turned January 1, 2010, the first thing my husband said to me was "This is your year, I can feel it." But I didn't feel it. Until now.
First of all, Cadbury Creme Eggs. Hello. I never buy them, but it is nice to know that there is such a thing as a chocolate egg with a liquid white and yellow sugar yolk - brilliant.
Tulips - what a flower. These are not fru-fru flowers. These are flowers that say "I have great big hot pink petals you wimpy ass pastel lavender hyacinth bitches." I am flower, hear me roar.
The new Vogue. It has been so long since I have seen anything in a magazine that I covet, but the latest Vogue is absolutely beautiful. Feminine dresses with an edge! Heels! There is pair of Prada heels with crystals that are so beautiful that I literally gasp when I see them, no matter how many times I turn the page to look at them. Of course, they are soooo out of the budget at this stage of my life, but it honestly make me happy to know that somebody out there can have them. (Duuuude! See, I really am turning over a new leaf - it makes me happy to know that somebody - even if it's not me - can have them!)
A Golden Egg. My grocery story is selling packages of plastic eggs with one golden egg in each package. My son is going to love searching for the golden egg in the yard on Easter morning. That's exactly the kind of thing that makes him over-the-moon excited.
Four Applications. All of a sudden there were 4 jobs posted on the bar association web page that looked like something related to my area of the law. Four. That's more than there has been over this whole past year. So I applied for four jobs this weekend.
The Lay-Off Outfit. The outfit that I wore the day I got laid off sat in my closet untouched since I hung it up a year ago. It's a decent business day outfit. It has Ann Taylor written all over it (although it is Jones New York) and it was a staple in the rotation. But I could never bring my self to put it back on. Until today. I am sitting here in the lay-off outfit, feeling a lot happier than I have in a while.
But then I realized that all those damn stuffed bunnies also mean something else besides evil - they mean Spring is right around the corner, and I have never been more ready. When the clock struck midnight and it turned January 1, 2010, the first thing my husband said to me was "This is your year, I can feel it." But I didn't feel it. Until now.
First of all, Cadbury Creme Eggs. Hello. I never buy them, but it is nice to know that there is such a thing as a chocolate egg with a liquid white and yellow sugar yolk - brilliant.
Tulips - what a flower. These are not fru-fru flowers. These are flowers that say "I have great big hot pink petals you wimpy ass pastel lavender hyacinth bitches." I am flower, hear me roar.
The new Vogue. It has been so long since I have seen anything in a magazine that I covet, but the latest Vogue is absolutely beautiful. Feminine dresses with an edge! Heels! There is pair of Prada heels with crystals that are so beautiful that I literally gasp when I see them, no matter how many times I turn the page to look at them. Of course, they are soooo out of the budget at this stage of my life, but it honestly make me happy to know that somebody out there can have them. (Duuuude! See, I really am turning over a new leaf - it makes me happy to know that somebody - even if it's not me - can have them!)
A Golden Egg. My grocery story is selling packages of plastic eggs with one golden egg in each package. My son is going to love searching for the golden egg in the yard on Easter morning. That's exactly the kind of thing that makes him over-the-moon excited.
Four Applications. All of a sudden there were 4 jobs posted on the bar association web page that looked like something related to my area of the law. Four. That's more than there has been over this whole past year. So I applied for four jobs this weekend.
The Lay-Off Outfit. The outfit that I wore the day I got laid off sat in my closet untouched since I hung it up a year ago. It's a decent business day outfit. It has Ann Taylor written all over it (although it is Jones New York) and it was a staple in the rotation. But I could never bring my self to put it back on. Until today. I am sitting here in the lay-off outfit, feeling a lot happier than I have in a while.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thank You, Michelle!
I want to thank Michelle for pointing out that yesterday was the most wonderful of all holidays around here - National Margarita Day! I celebrated by leaving work early . . .
Some questions you may have -
(1) Do I really drink margaritas? Yes. Frozen with salt. No swirls, no fruity flavors, and Dear God no whip. My husband drinks those.
I do realize that purists claim that the only real margarita is the kind on the rocks. Well, this is my blog, and here at Decisions on Margaritas we do frozen with salt, large. I want it in a cup so big that a goldfish could live in it, but no fish. Just the adult Slurpee with salt.
(2) How often do I drink margaritas? Sadly, not enough. They are actually surprisingly hard to come by in this town. Accordingly, I actually probably consume more red wine, although I am enjoying white again these days.
(3) Have I made any important decisions while drinking margaritas? Yup. That's how I wound up in law school. More on that to follow . . .
Some questions you may have -
(1) Do I really drink margaritas? Yes. Frozen with salt. No swirls, no fruity flavors, and Dear God no whip. My husband drinks those.
I do realize that purists claim that the only real margarita is the kind on the rocks. Well, this is my blog, and here at Decisions on Margaritas we do frozen with salt, large. I want it in a cup so big that a goldfish could live in it, but no fish. Just the adult Slurpee with salt.
(2) How often do I drink margaritas? Sadly, not enough. They are actually surprisingly hard to come by in this town. Accordingly, I actually probably consume more red wine, although I am enjoying white again these days.
(3) Have I made any important decisions while drinking margaritas? Yup. That's how I wound up in law school. More on that to follow . . .
Valid Proof that the Sharks Are Coming
So, I don't yurt (as in, to yurt; as in, to spend one's vacation in a circular shaped tent).
Accordingly, my husband found a lovely little yurt-free resort in Baja. It's far enough away that it won't have the Spring Break bunch, but close enough to Cabo that we could participate in the Spring Break mayhem if we so choose - and, really, is there an age when it is inappropriate to do so? I think not.
I couldn't be more excited. At first I was freaked out about the timing, but now I am absolutely giddy at the thought of my husband and I getting away together. And we won't even have to shovel snow to get to the breakfast tequila. And there will be an ocean! Mmmmmm ocean.
And I may even stick my toe in the ocean. But that's it. Because I have valid proof that sharks are out to get me. It's personal. (1) I once rented a house in Cape San Blas, Florida, and mere weeks later there was a shark attack right in front of that beach house. (2) When we were in Isle of Palms, there was a shark attack in front our beach house, right where the kids were playing, right after we went in for lunch. We narrowly avoiding actually being lunch. What are the odds - directly in front of both beach houses?! Obviously, they are following me. When they do Shark Week on Discovery, you can see those very houses in the footage. I understand that you are more likely to get killed by a vending machine falling over on you, but clearly, for me - given that there is no vending machine in this building and that there have been shark attacks in front of 2 of the last 5 beach houses I have rented - I have a forty percent chance of getting eaten by a shark if I go in the water.
Shorty after our last vacation in the Keys, there was a story in the Miami Herald about a shark they found in the street. See. Coming to get me.
Accordingly, my husband found a lovely little yurt-free resort in Baja. It's far enough away that it won't have the Spring Break bunch, but close enough to Cabo that we could participate in the Spring Break mayhem if we so choose - and, really, is there an age when it is inappropriate to do so? I think not.
I couldn't be more excited. At first I was freaked out about the timing, but now I am absolutely giddy at the thought of my husband and I getting away together. And we won't even have to shovel snow to get to the breakfast tequila. And there will be an ocean! Mmmmmm ocean.
And I may even stick my toe in the ocean. But that's it. Because I have valid proof that sharks are out to get me. It's personal. (1) I once rented a house in Cape San Blas, Florida, and mere weeks later there was a shark attack right in front of that beach house. (2) When we were in Isle of Palms, there was a shark attack in front our beach house, right where the kids were playing, right after we went in for lunch. We narrowly avoiding actually being lunch. What are the odds - directly in front of both beach houses?! Obviously, they are following me. When they do Shark Week on Discovery, you can see those very houses in the footage. I understand that you are more likely to get killed by a vending machine falling over on you, but clearly, for me - given that there is no vending machine in this building and that there have been shark attacks in front of 2 of the last 5 beach houses I have rented - I have a forty percent chance of getting eaten by a shark if I go in the water.
Shorty after our last vacation in the Keys, there was a story in the Miami Herald about a shark they found in the street. See. Coming to get me.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Best Plan Yet
There is nothing to eat in my house. I don't mean that there is nothing to eat that I want to eat. I mean, unless I can think of something to make with coffee and green Tabasco, there is nothing to eat in the house.
My disdain for clutter extends into the kitchen. While I view my minimalist approach to pantry accessories (such as food) as modern and organized, I do understand that others may think that I have "issues." For example, when I suggested to my husband that I could cut back on therapy to help out with the new budget, he indicated that he did not think that would be a good idea.
It's not that we never have food. I just have it down to an art where we get only what we need. If there was ever a nuclear bomb or some natural disaster that required us to hide in our home for a few weeks, my family would be the first to parish.
So last Saturday when my husband said that he was running to the grocery store, I thought nothing of it. About an hour later, I got a knock on the door from my new best girl friend. Her husband works with my husband and both of our husbands travel all the time. Hers happened to be out of town at that time. We have lots of other stuff in common, like being lawyers and having kids and we even went to the same university at the same time and lived in the same apartment complex, but we barely knew each other then.
So, anyway, she is knocking on my door and she appears to be in some state of shock. She said that my husband had arrived at her house and told her to get dressed because he was going to look after her girls while she and I went out to lunch and went shopping and went for wine, and he would come get us. Then I went into shock. Husband of the year! Husband of the year!
And drink we did. We may have eaten, and I have a box from Nordstrom with a God-awful sweater indicating that there was shopping, but I know for a fact there was some drinking.
Today I got an email from my friend that commented on the amount of wine we consumed. And here is why I love her. Her solution to us avoiding hangovers in the future is not to cut back on the drinking, but to build up our tolerance. This is a girl with a reasonable plan.
My disdain for clutter extends into the kitchen. While I view my minimalist approach to pantry accessories (such as food) as modern and organized, I do understand that others may think that I have "issues." For example, when I suggested to my husband that I could cut back on therapy to help out with the new budget, he indicated that he did not think that would be a good idea.
It's not that we never have food. I just have it down to an art where we get only what we need. If there was ever a nuclear bomb or some natural disaster that required us to hide in our home for a few weeks, my family would be the first to parish.
So last Saturday when my husband said that he was running to the grocery store, I thought nothing of it. About an hour later, I got a knock on the door from my new best girl friend. Her husband works with my husband and both of our husbands travel all the time. Hers happened to be out of town at that time. We have lots of other stuff in common, like being lawyers and having kids and we even went to the same university at the same time and lived in the same apartment complex, but we barely knew each other then.
So, anyway, she is knocking on my door and she appears to be in some state of shock. She said that my husband had arrived at her house and told her to get dressed because he was going to look after her girls while she and I went out to lunch and went shopping and went for wine, and he would come get us. Then I went into shock. Husband of the year! Husband of the year!
And drink we did. We may have eaten, and I have a box from Nordstrom with a God-awful sweater indicating that there was shopping, but I know for a fact there was some drinking.
Today I got an email from my friend that commented on the amount of wine we consumed. And here is why I love her. Her solution to us avoiding hangovers in the future is not to cut back on the drinking, but to build up our tolerance. This is a girl with a reasonable plan.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Undress Me
Speaking of books, Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven is excellent. My softback copy has a quote by Oprah saying that the book in unputdownable. Somebody get the Scrabble dictionary. Is that a word? That sounds like something I would make up, but I expect better from Oprah.
Anyway, aside from the recommendation from the lady who liked A Million Little Pieces, this book is amazing. The book is about two Brown University college grads who backpack through China in 1986, right after it became open to independent backpackers. This is an absolutely fascinating book. It has never ever occurred to me to "backpack" or that such word should be a verb. And China isn't in the top three places I want to visit. But I loved this book. Get. I promise you will enjoy and be horrified all at the same time.
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