Well That Was Quick

Somehow I have managed to knit an entire ped in about twenty-four hours.





Granted, I've put myself on pseudo-bed rest for the weekend so that I don't go into labor while Boo is working on his big project (and also because Crazy swore I was going to have this baby this weekend because "she knows these things" and there is something grating about her proclamation that makes me contrary). But still, I've gone out. I've shopped. I've done some laundry. I've done some cooking. I've done some napping. I've also knit. And a decent amount at that apparently!

F is for ...

Finished object! More specifically my finished Clapotis! I've been lax about taking fotographs (yah, yah, photographs ... I claim poetic license) of the finished Clapotis until this afternoon when Dogbert needed to go o-u-t. I mean is there anything more inspiring for a fotoshoot than a dog doing her bidness and cold, rainy, overcast weather?



Yah, as you can see, my first batch of photos didn't exactly capture Clapotis in all of her glory. Hardly any of that French panache that Kate Gilbert was going for. Aside from my own personal cheese, Clapotis was all bunched up AND clashed with my shirt. The pictures were, how you say, fuked. So I decided to give it up for my art and pose sans shirt. Mind you this isn't the first time I have paraded topless in my back yard. Only this time I didn't have an audience other than Dogbert.



I did, however, have a raging case of the giggles. There is something very funny about baring your big ole round pregger belly in the damp cold weather all in the hopes of getting a semi-decent picture of a handknit. Or maybe there isn't. Maybe it was my hormones.

Anywho, I did take several pictures in my skivvies which kinda show off the Clapotis (as well as the fact that I am one pasty white chick).



Since I was having so much fun with my photoshoot, I took one more of Clapotis in all of her glory.



Yarn: Blue Heron Yarns, Rayon Metallic, 2 skeins (550 yards/100 grams each), color Garnet
Needles: Addi Turbo, size 4.5 mm (US 7)
Pattern: Clapotis
Modifications: None.
Time: 44 days.
Care: Hand wash cool, dry flat.

!&^$#@!

Gawdammit! I missed Ten on Tuesday, AGAIN! I was so psyched to do this and now, now, I've repeatedly spit the bit. So in honor of this weeks miss ('10 Things to Do Before You Get Married'), I am going for Ten On [cough, cough] Thursday ... BUT before I do, I have a short little Crazy tale to share.

As I walked into the office this morning, Crazy was lurking behind a door or something because I never saw her. When I went to check my mailbox she popped up behind me and said, "Hi!" Startled, I turned around and greeted her with a, "Good morning." She then just starts rambling on and on about some woman at her gym who is pregnant. She is going on and on and I am starting to tune out when she says, "And I told her your breasts really filled out. They look full today." Um, WHAT THE FUCK? And now, on with my list ...

'10 Things to Do at Work Before Going on Maternity Leave'

10. Create a countdown clock listing the days, hours and minutes you have left. Ensure that the countdown is written in several places so that you can always catch a soothing glimpse when the crazy factor amps up (like say your boobs are critiqued by your psycho boss). FYI, my clock reads the rest of today plus two and a half more days, or about 22 hours, or 1,320 minutes, or 79,200 seconds, give or take a few.

9. Practice looking slightly sad at the thought of missing three months of work. Just because you can't win an Oscar for your performance, doesn't mean you shouldn't act as if you can. Bonus points if you can tear up, without actually spilling a tear, and get the quivering lip going all the while laughing manically on the inside.

8. Go through your desk and pull out all of the old resumes and job applications you've filled out for other, less crazy places. Pack them up and bring them home to shred. Why tempt the crazies by throwing them out at work?

7. Copy and export your bookmarks of blogs and online shopping and porn, e-mail them to yourself and then delete them from your computer's hard drive. No need for some nosey fuck to find out that you like to read about one armed, albino, zombie prostitutes and celebrity gossip while you search for deals on shoes.

6. Check office food items for expiration dates. Triscuits gonna expire before you return? Be kind, give them to a co-worker. M&M's gonna go bad? Open that mouth and start eating!

5. Copy all of your work files and bring them home with you. It's good to have copies of all of the crap you've done over the years in case you are asked not to return.

4. Get on your hands and knees and look under your desk. You might find ... a safety pin, a peanut M&M, a phone message from 2005, a knitting marker, and some dental floss.

3. Copy, print, e-mail and re-print the memo concerning your maternity absence and when you are leaving and returning. This is your insurance should someone claim that you need to be back at work now and demand an early return.

2. Scour the cabinet of office supplies for anything that you might need over the next three months ... like post it notes, an easy, non-toxic way to have your newborn remind you of things like "feed me"; and, paperclips, McGyver uses them for everything, you probably can too; and, rubber gloves, good for sketchy inmate mail AND diaper blow outs.

1. Plan your celebratory dance for when you make it to your last day without killing anyone, while at the same time perfecting your alibi in case you don't make it.

Pathetic

You'd think we beat her. She looks like the saddest dog in the world!

Holidays

Last weekend was a weekend of holidays. First, Boo and I celebrated our anniversary, which I guess technically is not a holiday and it wasn't even our actual anniversary, but whatever. I have pictures in my camera, none of which are my finished Clapotis, and I am bored at work, so work with me. Holidays. Us, celebrating, enjoying our four year anniversary with fondue and presents.

For year four the gifts are something like plant/flower, linen/silk, and appliance. We usually try to mix it up a bit and so we decided that the big gift, the real gift, would be the pet hair eating Dyson. I'm sure you've seen the commercials. Basically James Dyson claims that Mr. Vacuum will never lose suction and our house shall become pet hair free mecca. I haven't actually used the Dyson yet, but Boo loves it and swears it is sucking the shit out of some pet hair. Mind you, for the amount of money this thing costs, Boo better love it, this biatch better not lose suction and pet hair better quake in fear. If not, well I am prepared to go all Marsellus Wallace on Mr. Dyson ... if we shelled out hundreds of dollars and still lose suction, well then I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If he goes to Indochina, I want a dude waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.

So we bought a Dyson as the big gift (appliance) and then were left to our own devices for the rest.



Which meant that Boo received fresh linen car air freshener and Silk soy milk, which in case you are curious, taste like warmed-over ass. I received an Apple i-tunes gift card and two knitting books with patterns for linen and silk yarns. Needless to say, one of us is a much better gift giver.

The second holiday for which I have pictures was a bit more mainstream as a bunch of people celebrated Easter. As non-believers, we don't really do Easter. I mean, we'll indulge in candy, but that is just because its fun. Not religiously significant to us, and really, I've heard that chocolate is a religious, and sometimes even orgasmic, experience but I can't see the connection between chocolate bunnies and Christ. Anywho, when Easter does roll around, I do like to be sure that the candy we partake in is good candy and over the years I have found the perfect candy blend.



You take a bag of candy coated milk chocolate eggs, and a bag of candy coated peanut butter eggs and you mix them together in a bowl.



Then you leave the bowl in some easily accessible place where you often will walk by. Each time you do, you grab a handful of goodness. Maybe you get all chocolate, maybe you get all peanut butter, maybe you get a mix. It is a mystery. A mystery that can only be solved by eating the goodness!

Roadkill

"Um, excuse me! Um, ma'am??" This phrase seems so innocuous, that is, until you turn around to answer and see yards of bright colored yarn blowing in the breeze and connecting your purse to ... some place far off in the distance. And, at the same time, you realize that "Um, excuse me! Um, ma'am??" was a polite way of saying, "Um woman, you have created a yarn road block which is preventing me from wheeling my father in this honking wheel chair out to our car. You need to move your shit."

This morning I had my early morning NST and grabbed a sock for entertainment. A sock that I had re-started (again) this weekend and had finally just given up on, and picked a pattern and committed to a plan. So, I had my sock to knit on and when I parked my car, I carefully put my knitting and my cellphone in my purse. Apparently I wasn't as careful as I thought because at some point after exiting my car, I dropped the ball of yarn. And then walked into the hospital. All along creating multiple yarn road blocks over sidewalks and parking lots.

After I realized my yarn gaffe, i.e, I realized why the woman was calling me, I quickly started to retrace me steps while grabbing up my yarn. I apologized to the woman and her wheelchair-bound father, and joked that I must have dropped my yarn in my car and ha! isn't this embarrassing, ha! And then I apologized again, because man I felt like an ASSHOLE. I retraced my steps, frantically grabbing my yarn and following the trail, across the sidewalk and parking lot, and down a flight of stairs. I grabbed up yarn and grabbed up yarn and thought about stopping to take a picture because ha, it was embarrassing AND funny, but I didn't want to stop or slow down with the grabbing of the yarn.

So, anyway, I was frantically grabbing handfuls of yarn from bushes and concrete walls where it had been snagged and taking down yarn stuck on stair handles. I even had to unwind it from the antenna of some random car. I kept grabbing and walking, grabbing and walking, and that is when I realized that my yarn, it didn't go to my car. No, it went out across the parking lot, into the road, across the road and then, somewhere else, somewhere I couldn't see because my vision, it is not the best. I think it was at that moment that the whole situation then went from funny and embarrassing to nauseating and embarrassing and just bad. My mind registered the never ending yarn and in trying to make sense of it, deduced that I dropped my yarn between my car and the stairs, and another car had HIT MY YARN, causing it to stick to the car and dragging it to god-only-knows. In other words, I was grabbing up yarn roadkill.

Now, you have to realize, my appointment was first thing in the morning and all of these doctors and nurses were showing up for work, briskly walking into the hospital, and here I am swimming against the stream, following some bright colored string, wadding it up, muttering to myself, and looking somewhat panicked because WHAT THE FUCK? I am sure they thought I was a head case. And, honestly, at that point, I was a bit of a head case. I had probably picked up about fifty yards of yarn and was totally coming unglued. I wasn't sure if I should just try to break the yarn, leaving the remaining yarn behind, and skitter off to my appointment or if I should keep going and grabbing because then end had to be near. My brain would say, "Leave it! Who cares if it is blocking the sidewalk, people can go under it. No! Pick it up! I mean really, how far can it go? You can't finish the sock without the yarn and the sock, well you still have that part." My mind was racing and would interrupt itself with other thoughts like, "Shit, how long does this go on for? What should I do? Will I be able to make it on time to my appointment?" So me = unglued, unhinged, and panicky.

I was still picking up yarn, trying to configure a plan and freaking the fuck out on the inside, as I approached the main security guard gate entrance area to the parking lots. The guard lady saw me, started to stand up and exit her guard house and I was just about to lose my shit. Like for real. Shit? Gonna lose it. And this was the precise moment when I saw that there is no more yarn. No nice ball waiting to be picked up. No, my yarn was just a ripped end, blowing across two lanes of traffic and into the breeze.



So, I did what any other head case would do, I said, "MUTHERFUCKER!" as I executed a one-eighty, and walked the other direction, back towards the entrance. All the while madly winding the yarn into a mess as quickly as I could and hoping against hope that another car did not rollover my yarn, creating tension, and jerking me back on my ass. Once I got the wad into a containable, um, wad, I shoved it into my pocket and made my way to my appointment, thinking ... this is funny, this fucking funny, it will be a good blog post, you should have taken pictures as you were following the yarn trail, you need to relax, you're fine, this really was funny, ha ha, funny. I never quite convinced myself of this (and even now, looking back, I still get that panicked HOLY SHIT WHAT DO I DO? feeling).

Despite my angst, I got to my NST and I was on time, with three minutes to spare actually, and once I was checked in and shuffled over to my regular room, I learned that my regular NST nurse was out today. Now my NST nurse is good. She sees me twice a week and knows where Lady Bean likes to chill. She gets me hooked up right away and then measures the fluid lickety split. Assuming Lady Bean behaves, I can be in and out in thirty minutes or so. But a new person, well that might be a little longer which would be no big deal except my knitting, the thing I do while I sit there and um, gestate, well it is a big ole clusterfuck.



But I figured this was fine, no big deal, I could untangle my yarn and see what, if any, of it was salvageable. So I started to untangle. And then I untangled some more. I removed twigs and then untangled some more. Somehow in my frantic parking lot winding, I had created a big fat knot. A knot that was evil and unwilling to untangle nicely. And then, while struggling with the tangled wad of knottedness, I dropped the partially wound ball that I had managed to make and of course it rolled across the room. Which sucked extra hard because I was strapped to a machine and couldn't go fetch it. So I had to pull it. Pull it while unwinding the progress I had made, and causing me to start the whole damn balling process all over. Eventually I did managed to control the uncontrollable and ended up with a very small ball.



How this stretched as far as it did, I have no idea, because really, this a joke. What the hell can I knit with this little yarn? I sure as shit can't finish the sock I started since all I had was a heel and a bit of foot.



Of course, because nothing else was going well, Lady Bean was uncooperative and after the adrenaline high of chasing yarn just wanted to snooze. So not only did I not have anything to entertain myself with, I had to sit there an not entertain myself for over an hour and a half. Which basically meant I sat sulking over my sock situation.

In case you were curious, I had started to make the Socks of Kindness, in ped form, using my Sweet Peas yarn. I have half a ball chilling with a toe I started awhile back, and I have the mess from this morning. The yarn makes weird colored somewhat unattractive stripes, so it isn't like I've lost a masterpiece, but still, I am cheap enough (and hormonal enough) to be irked over the whole damn thing.



I suspect this will be one more pile o' yarn that goes to a new home ... or to yarn heaven via the fireplace.

Clueless

I have no idea what this movie is about. I've never even heard of it.



But when I saw the picture I thought, "Hey, Knitting!"

Whoops!

Seems I spoke too soon ... my suck ass bracket dropped me into fifth! But I did get the Miami v. St. Mary's "upset" right. Go Canes!

Steak and Shrimp

Yah, we weren't kidding!


Outback and cards, a combination for the ages.

Also a great combination? Me and my NCAA basketball bracket. Who is currently tied for first place? Yes, that would be me.

Quatre

Not surprisingly, last year at this time Crazy was giving me fits. So basically it's a year later and not one damn thing has changed on the job front. Pathetic. I really should do something about that. I haven't. But I should. Last year I think it was easier to deal with though, since Boo and I were taking a mini-jaunt for our three year anniversary and my hormones were, well, mine and mine alone.

Anywho, today marks year four and um, well we aren't what you would call prepared for celebration. Four years ago we were married in a garden in Las Vegas and held a reception at Morton's. The following year we decide that, in a nod to our wedding itself, we would always celebrate our anniversary either on vacation, with gambling, or at a steakhouse. We've managed to do it too. Until now. Fearful of our baby just randomly falling out of me while we were in Fiji, or Trump's Taj Mahal, neither of which would be ideal, or even pleasant, we put off planning anything. Now that our anniversary is here and I am no more ready to give birth than I was a month ago, we realize we could have gone to Fiji, or at least to a nice dinner out. Since it is a little late to plan something now and we haven't done squat in coming up with a lovely romantic evening, I proposed dinner at Outback. Fancy, huh? Boo upped the ante and said, "Yah, and we'll bring some cards and play poker while we wait for our food." We are all class!

Not to be a total dud, I did go out of my way to do something extra special for Boo. Something so grand, so big, so damn thoughtful, that it would overshadow the lack of other stuff, you know, like a gift, or a dinner reservation. So, for my grand gesture, I had Google give us our very own specialized Google logo that everyone who Googles today will see:


Yep, am I the most awesomest wife ever or what? I am so awesome that I convinced Google to give Boo a very public gift, a personalized Google logo with some pretty "oo" flowers, to help celebrate the greatness that is our marriage.

What? You think this is bogus? You think I am making this up? Go to Google, you'll see. Ohhhh, you think the logo has nothing to do with me or our marriage? For real? Okay. Okay, I confess. Maybe Google doesn't know me from Adam and instead just happened to create a fun logo to celebrate the first day of Spring, a day which (conveniently) coincides with our anniversary. But come on, you have to admit, my version, it is much much cooler and makes me seem like less of a douche.

Now With Less Crazy

A new day, less insanity? I'm hoping so. The whole Crazy thing yesterday really did creep me out. For months now I've been hearing how she wants to deliver my baby and what she'll do if I have contractions at work (including graphic details on the things she would do to me) and how she keeps seeing things that the baby MUST HAVE and how she must visit my baby because she is REALLY good with kids so I need to bring her to work and how I should rethink my stance on 'no visitors' in the hospital and how her only regret is not having children of her own; not to mention all the nasty and mean things that I hear from other people that she has said about me behind my back. Thus far it has been comical, or at least weirdly amusing, but that card totally crossed the line into Fatal Attraction territory and I don't want my bunny boiling in that bitch's pot. Ya know? Anywho, I could go on and on about the sick comments that Crazy kept dropping yesterday and the apparent intent to give me/us yet more items, but instead I am going to focus on the good, the happy, the not creepy. So let us begin.

Did you know that there is no number that starts with the letter W? I know this because I was going to make up for bailing on Ten on Tuesday by giving you, um, Weven on Wednesday? Yah, that doesn't work. I could have been ghetto and done "Won on Wednesday" acting like won was one, but I restrained myself (just barely) because there is something already out there for Wednesday ... WIP Wednesday. I'm not sure if it is an organized thing, or if people just do it on their own, but either way I am calling dibs on it today. So, here we go, my works in progress.

First we have Clapotis in all of her pink and purpley sparkly goodness.



She is probably not as close to done as I think she is, but I am on the decreases and it is moving right along. I hope to have her done by Sunday. Maybe. We'll see.

Then we have the Sweet Pea socks. I wasn't digging on the Un-Ridged Feather so I ripped back to the toe(s). Now I need to figure out where to go from here.



When you get up to an average sock number of stitches, the yarn seems to stripe with the purple and yellow going together which is okay, I guess. It reminds me of the LSU Tigers. I have no affiliation with LSU and so this isn't really a good thing. On the other hand, I don't hate the Tigers, so I guess it isn't a bad thing either.

Last, we have the old Kangaroo Duo chestnut. I haven't worked on this in ... well quite some time. I think at some point I wanted to have it done for this winter.



At some point I must have been high. I wonder if I can have it done by next winter. I need to use my brain to do some sleeve math and quite frankly that is about as appealing as ... spending time with Crazy. Well, maybe not that unappealing. But you catch my drift.

And how about re-visiting a finished handkint? Like my cozy pedicure socks. My feet are swollen little sausages and I can't reach my toes for shit. Add the Crazy factor in, and all I can say is that it was extremely fortuitous that I had a pedicure scheduled for last night. Apparently I was still a little stressed as my polish is um, somewhat dark. Not what one would call "Spring-ish" but that is okay because the experience was great.





Even Dogarella was into the pedicure wanting to check out my toes and compare the color with her fur-tone. We decided it was too dark for her complexion and that she needs something a little brighter.

Also warm and fuzzy, if not cozy ... The cuddly lovebugs that I come home to and that are always happy to see me and don't want talk shit about me when I am not around or, you know, boil my bunny.





I was going to say "Also not crazy ..." but let's be honest here, these guys have their own brand of crazy, like someone who removes her bedding from her crate and takes it up two flights of stairs to place it in the middle of our bed. Or someone else who has an unholy attraction to heat vents and likes to rub his furry belly all over them and then collapse on top of them in a big ole pile a mush. I think it's that they are cute so their crazy is totally acceptable.

Objectively Creepy

I was going to regale you with tales of Clapotis and of how I am this close to be done, which isn't really all that close, but it sure does feel like it. Especially since I am decreasing which means each row gets a little bit shorter and quicker. And, I was going to tell you about how I am not liking the socks I started and poll people for patterns that work for variegated yarn, patterns that wouldn't be obscured by the colors in the yarn. I was going to throw in some Ten on Tuesday action and tell you about where I'd take a tourist in my town. I was even going to fess up to being a cheater and having to look at local tourist info for some ideas because crikey, my town is small and not chock-a-block full of adventure. But then. But then, I came to work and found another present on my desk.



And I thought ... Well. I'll be damned. I guess saying, "Stop! You are going overboard. It's too much. No more! Mo mas!" wasn't really clear. I guess I was not specific enough with the whole, "Seriously, I really appreciate your generosity, but you have to stop." I was going to make a big fat joke and laugh and haha. I took the picture above for the blog and figured maybe I should hold a contest and if you guessed the gift I'd give you something fun. Like a stick in the eye. Or yarn. Or something else if you were a non-knitter. Hardy har har. Fun fun fun. A contest! The whole contest idea being my own token way to balance my karma for being so bitchy about the constant stream of presents that, under normal circumstances would be a sweet, kind, generous thing but under the circumstances of coming from Crazy was just plain weird. But then. But then I opened the card and it said this.

Honestly, that freaks me out just a bit. As Boo said, it is objectively creepy. It isn't just odd or uncomfortable or creepy because it is from Crazy, who is crazy. Or because it is from the managing attorney, someone not my friend, who I am not close to, my boss. It is just creepy. Period. My life is a Law & Order episode waiting to happen.

E is for ...

Effin' Christ! Enough already!



Dear Ms. Crazy,

Thank you for another baby gift. I appreciate it. There is, however, no amount of giftage that will convince me to spend a day, let alone multiple weeks, caring for your six, feral, clawing, biting, pissing-on-everything, like-to-run-away cats. Especially while I am out on maternity leave trying to figure out how to keep Lady Bean alive. Ain't gonna happen. Also, I'm not going to the career fair next year. So, again, thank you, but please, stop with the gifts.

Kisses!

More

Talking about my impending maternity leave . . .

Crazy: Why don't you baby sit our (six) kittens for two weeks?
Me: Um, no.
Crazy: But we could go away.
Me: No. NO. WAY.
Crazy: But really, you aren't going to be doing anything anyway.
Me: I said, NO! NO! NO!

Blah Blah Blah

We bought (another) new camera last night and though it is suppose to be the exact same thing as our old one, only newer, it's not. It has annoying habits, like you have to reset the time/date stamp every time you take the battery out to charge it, and feels cheaper, though it was cheaper so I guess it is just being true to itself. In any event, it does take pretty decent pictures. Though the color of my pictures is a little off, but that is probably due to the brown paneling of my office and the pisspoor lighting. There is only so much one can expect from a camera. In any event, we have a functioning camera which is why I am blogging in the first place ... pictures! Of my new sock! Woot! Woot!



I've gotten to "that" point on Clapotis. That point where your project is a little too unwieldy to trot around town for 'just in case' knitting. That point where if you try to knit it while hooked up to NST baby monitors you might accidentally catch a probe thing and send the machine into chaotic holy-crap-this-child-is-exploding-or-something beeps. Not a good scene. Not that I would know. I'm just saying, Clapotis, not for travel. Which is where Socky McSockerman comes in. The yarn is Madelinetosh and the color is Sweet Peas. It seems very Springy and since Spring is here (oh Winter how I miss you!), I figured what the hell. Also, it was already balled up and within reach when I was looking for something small to start and throw in my purse. One could say I picked this as my next project out of sheer laziness.



One could also say that I made my pattern decision by sheer laziness. It is the ridge feather pattern from Sensational Knitted Socks. Only I UNridged the feather by knitting two together instead of purling them together. The book was out and the pattern was simple enough that it was memorized after one glance. I am kind of wishing I had started Widdershins instead. I saw some over here and really kind of like them. It's not like I've gotten so far along that ripping would be bad, so who knows, maybe I'll rip back and start the pattern part over. I just have to make sure the stitch count doesn't land me in that weird part of pooling because I no likely the pooling AT ALL!

Deja Vu All Over Again

Remember how I was an ungrateful biatch, constantly complaining that Crazy would not stop me gifts? Well, it is starting up again!


Picture courtesy of my camera phone ... better than nuthin' right?

I'm grateful. I really am. It is a nice gesture, or it was the first dozen times. But this shit is FREAKING ME OUT. You can't loathe someone for five years, and then shower her with presents and kindness while you mock her and bitch about her behind her back. Well, you can, especially if you are certifiable. BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE. I know it is not sincere. The other shoe will drop. I know that while one hand is giving me a gift, the other is giving me the finger. Which makes it all the creepier when I say thank you and get the sing-songy joking, "You never know, there might be more!" I know that sooner or later, I am getting knifed in the back, or as Boo only semi-kiddingly said, if you're found dead with the baby cut out of you, I'm telling the cops to skip your clients and look at your boss.

Bucket List

Lately, or rather, every other night or so, I wake up to pee and then am struck with wicked insomnia. Having been an All-Pro, All-American, All-Star sleeper, this is absolutely HORRIFIC for me. I use to be able to "nap" for four hours, go about my business and then sleep for another eight hours when it was bed time. Now, not so much. It sucks. But it also gives my brain time to percolate over the ridiculous and the sublime. More often the ridiculous. Which is how, I ended up making my own 'bucket list.'

Though it doesn't yet feel quite real, all signs are pointing to "Yes, you will be having a child in three and a half weeks!" Which means that kid-free life is about to kick the bucket. The next logical thought, for the sleep deprived at four in the a.m., is that Boo and I need to create our version of a bucket list. Granted, now is the worst possible time work-wise for him to do anything fun, and I am not exactly at top form. Nonetheless, it seemed like a brilliant idea (which might be why you should never make any important decision between the hours of 2:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. - you are either drunk or sleep-deprived).

In any event, there are a lot of possible items for our bucket list. Well, there were are 4:00 a.m., since then many of those brilliant ideas have filtered out into the ether and whenever I try to think of something I draw a blank, or utter something so silly that Boo just snorts at me and continues on with whatever he was doing. Basically, with the exception of jaunting out to Hawaii for a few days, something that unfortunately isn't possible, all of my ideas are lame and revolve around restaurants we should try or re-visit one last time and things we should buy (including camera number four now that camera number three has died which is why I have no pictures and am just yapyapyapping over here). I'm not sure what this says about my personality. Because, like I said, my ideas, well, they are lame. But, I am one to persevere - or one who has lots of middle of the night insomnia of late - so I kept thinking. And I thought some more. And I thought real hard and BAM, I came up with an idea ... a day trip to NYC. Wild, huh? I know. And, in all honesty, the impetus for a trip to NYC came while watching this so I can't even claim it was truly my idea.

Anyway, Boo use to live in NYC and he proposed to me (as opposed to some other skank) on the top of the Empire State Building, so I thought that between us (or really just based on him) we had a pretty decent familiarity with the city, but it turns out we don't. Neither of us has been to the Top of The Rock. Chu-ching! As soon as he said that he had never been, I knew we had a bucket list worthy day trip.

Now, because I am me, I am not planning the trip. Instead, I have proposed an itinerary that includes the Top of the Rock, some specific shopping, and several food stops. I am the worst trip planner and I have given him all of my ideas and said, "Make it Work!" We'll see what happens.

Worry

I am a bit of a worrywart. I know, it shocks the mind. Most would say that nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, but you know what, I TOTALLY DO! As a result, I am somewhat worried, or paranoid, whenever my husband goes away that something horrific is going to happen to him. I understand why I have this particular brand of insanity, and quite frankly I'm okay with it. Usually I keep my insanity to myself, though to hear Boo talk, you would think I am trying to keep him wrapped in bubblewrap and secured to a well cushioned chair in an underground windowless room. For the record, the room does have one window; the human body needs sunshine to make Vitamin D.

In any event, when Boo was leaving for a three day jaunt in to NYC for work this week, I told him to be careful. I might have been a little more adamant than that and referenced things like seatbelts and anti-bacterial hand wipes, but you know what? I WAS RIGHT! Granted, I was worried about some cracked up, drunk, socialite driving the wrong way on the Tapanzee, not some assfuck bombing the military recruiting center in Times Square. But still! Since I knew Boo was okay considering the locale of his hotel, and I knew that all reports indicated that no one was hurt, I have to say I felt quite smug when I called him at 7:00a.m. "just to make sure he wasn't hurt in the explosion." Maybe I was a bit pompous, a bit supercilious, when I called, but I had every right to be because just this once, my worrying was not for not.