December 2008


I almost ignored the calling of my archives because I didn’t want to see what I wrote last year. Avoiding any proof of failure is much preferred to succumbing to reality. But, hell, then I remembered that I am nosy and have no self-control. The result wasn’t good but definitely could have been worse – or maybe you would disagree, I have no idea, I am feeling negative today. Anyway, without further ado: 2008 Resolutions

1. Be conscious of money.

Yeah, I did this, somewhat. At least enough to buy a house. Grad school ain’t making my Visa look too great, however. New budgeting guidelines soon to be implemented.

2. Find a direction even if it is the wrong direction. This one, I hope, entails something young and frivolous (ie stupid); I am turning 25 this year and can’t justify those two attributes for too much longer. Or, if I want to be adult about it, I could continue my education. But you know, whatever.

Chose the boring adult route. Lame.

3. Make time for friends.

I tried. And for a while, I succeeded. But then this fall, my life somewhat exploded and my social life went to crap. I’ll carry this one over to next year.

4. Leave The Kid alone. Get over it already.

Ha. Hahahhahhahaahaahaha. Er. No comment.

5. Travel. As always.

Sure, I traveled some. I think I always want travel in theory but in practice I want adventure. I had little adventure this year. Not to say that I didn’t love Greece and my domestic ventures because I did … but … I really don’t know if I had any great tales of adventure and excitement. The travel was great … but not life-changing. I will get more into this on my new resolutions, and this one is another that will carryover, but with some modification and clarification.

New goals for 2009 to follow.

A friend has scheduled a destination wedding for Vegas in March. I’ve never been to Vegas nor have my high-school friends, the same clique that is friends with the bride-to-be, even thought we have always planned to make the trip. This wedding, we’ve decided, is the perfect opportunity to make Vegas happen.

A few email threads have passed back and forth, planning our girls weekend. Which is how it was explicitly sold. Girls Weekend in Vegas.

Until one mentioned that her boyfriend was also excited to go. His ticket has already been booked and it works perfectly! because his birthday is that weekend.

The other two friends, well, once the date floodgates were open, dates were on-board the bandwagon. The other two … well, one can’t NOT invite her HUSBAND and the other, her boyfriend’s father – who, by the way, has CANCER – lives four hours away and he wants to see him while he still can. Only a heartless bastard could say no to the cancer patient.

Now, as the lone single gal, I have a few options:

a) Go dateless. While they are cozy and coupley and flirty. A weekend of third-wheel-dom.

b) Invite a guy friend. Maybe one of the ones that I try to keep at a distance because I am not interested; one that I would hesitate to bring to a local wedding – but a few days in Vegas? Sure! Swell! No mixed signals there! Also, remember that most of the ones to whom I am closest have girlfriends. Boundary-crossing, much?

c) Invite one of my favorite girl friends. Which is where I am leaning, but I feel like this is the somehow taboo – to bring another female into the cliquey girls-weekend dynamic. My friends wouldn’t be exclusive and bitchy, but I could still see it being … off. But then, they have dates, so I guess I don’t care.

d) Not go. And start the precedent that I need a date to attend all activities in the future, ensuring that I am dependent on other people to have fun. Not to mention anti-feminist. Awesome.

I want to experience Vegas with them but not necessarily them and their dates. Would much rather spend that vacation fund on visiting friends around the country. I have a long travel To-Go List. But then, I also don’t want any pity – either from not going or going alone. Advice? WW[The Internet]D?

The Firefighter from Seattle, who will always be my favorite guy friend from high school, is in town for the holidays; this past weekend, we went bowling with his family. Very wholesome, yet remarkably entertaining. After, he asked if I wanted to be the fourth player in a card game, which is where his mother intervened.

“Maybe Molly doesn’t want to play cards, maybe Molly would like to come over and watch a movie at our house. Molly, it’s after midnight, too late for cards, would you like to come over and watch a movie with [Firefighter] on the couch instead?”

I thought her interference adorable, helping her son with his game, so I agreed to a movie at their house –even though I would have preferred a movie at my house, a house without parents –but I couldn’t turn down the mom-invite, the phrasing so quintessential mom, something I hadn’t heard since high school.

He rode with me from the bowling alley to his parents’ house, located four minutes from my parents’ house, where his mom picked up her helpful chatter.

“Molly, there are chips in the pantry and fresh-cut vegetables in the fridge, be sure to help yourself. Are you thirsty? [Firefighter], if Molly is thirsty later, make sure you get her something to drink. Have you seen the cats? What movie would you like to watch? Did you enjoy the holidays with your family?”

She continued her monologue, describing the plot to Risky Business, while he corralled the three cats.

“… Molly, the movie is a classic, you should watch it, do you want me to go upstairs and get it? If you get cold, the blankets are over here, and look, isn’t this a nice one? It’s so soft– I think made of a sweat-suit material –and says Seattle Fire Dept; this was a Christmas present from [Firefighter]…”

Cats safely isolated in the basement, he reclined on the floor, setting up the movie, while I continued to nod and smile at his mom’s dialogue.

“Would you like the tree on or off? On? It’s so pretty, you should have the lights on. Turn off all the lights but the tv and the tree, and that should be the perfect amount of light? [Firefighter], Christmas-tree lights on?”

“Off.”

“Are you sure? I really think it should be on, so festive; I really think the tree should be on. Should I turn it on? Should we try it?”

“Mom, just leave it off.”

“On?”

“Fine, Mom, keep it on.”

“…Well, when it’s on, do you think that’s too much light? Too bright? Do you want me to turn it off for you? Will the lights detract from the movie? Is there a glare on the screen? I can always leave the light on over the kitchen sink? Would that be better?”

While she was oblivious to my amusement, he noticed, held eye contact, and smiled at my smile.

“… The tree lights are on for now, but the switch in right here, next to this table. [Firefighter] do you see this outlet? Here’s the on-off switch. Shouldn’t be a fire hazard, but you would know more about that than I … Molly, are you driving to your parents’ house tonight or your new place? Either way, I know you haven’t been drinking, I’m not concerned about that, but if you get too tired, you can sleep in the spare bedroom, of course, that’s not a big deal; [Firefighter], if Molly wants to stay, make sure she’s comfortable …”

I nodded, thoroughly amused, smiling with The Firefighter, while she made her last comments and inquiries about the cats, retiring to her room upstairs.

Finally alone, I confessed my love of his mom and her endearing behavior, treating us exactly the same as she did when we were high-school kids. He agreed. We were much older and more sophisticated. Completely different people. By the dimmed tree lights, he continued to tease me, I blushed and returned the grief, and we fell asleep watching a movie and sharing a couch. In a mature, grown-up way, of course, nothing like how we used to.

Merry Christmas and season’s greetings, loves. I hope everyone received much love and happiness this holiday season (and maybe something tangible like a new sweater or puppy).

I honestly don’t remember the last time this happened to me: I’m bored.

Starting in September, I was placed into a new role at work, one that was time-consuming and time-sensitive. For that reason, I rarely took PTO, as I had so many details to coordinate and assemble – even though the PTO would have been very helpful with the school-starting, exam-taking, house-buying and general life craziness. I now have many MANY days in which to use before the end of the year, else I lose them. This week, without work or school and only scheduled for serving one day this week, I have nothing to do. I have free time. I never have free time.

I’m a little lost.

I … pace a lot.

This extra time things somewhat fascinates me – not enough to wish this was my life always, because I am going crazy and it’s been a week, but enough to be slightly intrigued. Things that I did today that typically don’t happen because THERE IS NEVER TIME:

1. Made coffee
2. Went to Target AND DIDN’T BUY ANYTHING
3. Spent an hour filling out rebate forms. Rebates? People do these? Who has time to fill out a coupon to receive a check at a later date for $7? Apparently people whom only work part-time. Guarantee that, for as much as I can always use $7, I won’t have time to deposit the stupid check once the rebate people mail it to me. I’d bet $7 on it.
4. Cooked lunch. Should I repeat that? COOKED. LUNCH. Are you as impressed with me as I was? A real meal. With like, vegetables and stuff. Apparently lunch can consist of other ingredients than Wheat Thins and peanut butter. Who knew.
5. Shaved my legs. For the second time this week. And I know this is normal for like, normal people, but I honestly have very slow-growing/thin/blonde leg hair (plus, I’m working with that whole laziness factor … and it’s not like I am getting daily play, so … you know, why bother.)
6. Laundry. Again, something that normal people do on a fairly regular basis but I have enough clothing and under-garments –can I call them ‘unmentionables’ because I always found that phrase amusing? And then you say, “Don’t mention them!” and I will giggle a bit at our joke –to last for five-plus weeks, it’s never high on my priority list.
7. Painted my toenails. In winter. When I will be wearing thick socks.

It’s not that I am complaining about this extra time, I just don’t really know what to do with it. My To-Do List in nearly complete; I’ve finished a month’s worth of odd chores and errand-type jobs in one week’s time. I’ve yet to start painting, but narrowing the color palate has proved difficult. I tried reading a book, but it wasn’t keeping my attention span because I felt like it was too much of a luxury –that I should be up! And out! And being productive! I’ll try again tomorrow – I’m typically a big reader, it must have been a fluke. Do you, my dears, have any book recommendations? My brain has proved that it doesn’t want to think too hard, yet I can’t stand any inane chick-lit. Oh – and nothing hugely depressing (anything abuse-related ala Oprah’s Book Club need not apply).

So begins the month of freedom before second semester. This first weekend, I blatantly ignored my To-Do List and chose a more enjoyable route. A weekend of laziness and drinking, as epitomized on Sunday as I spent the day hungover, napping, eating ice cream (THRICE), and watching three movies (in different locations of course, wouldn’t want to be construed as slothful). Oh, but I forgot how much I enjoy Sundays when I am without Things To Do.

Will start the To-Do List today … or maybe tomorrow. I have some pretty important items on there. Like Christmas shopping and mail. I hate mail. Never open it. Hell, I rarely even fetch it from the mailbox. Which is problematic when bills are sent to the house. My bills are paid online but billing companies refuse to e-deliver, making me very angry at them. I spend the first half of the month being bitter until the bill is overdue and then I HAVE to pay it. Am trying to teach them to just stop mailing me the GD things, but they have yet to catch on. I’ll keep trying though. Like a stubborn child, I can’t ease up this reinforcement of their negative behavior or they’ll think that they can always get away with it.

Another To-Do List item: paint. My entire house. Color suggestions?

Have I mentioned that my appliances hate me? First it was a misbehaving washing machine followed by a dryer (oo, need to add that guy to the list). Now, my dishwasher is broken, has been for a few days, and instead of washing the dishes by hand (what are we, poor? Am SO kidding – we’re just really lazy), we have stacked the dirty dishes on the counter. We might need to buy more plates. Yesterday I made The Sister and me omelets but, as we were out of clean forks, used a hand-mixer beater to scrabble the eggs and spoons to eat the finished product. Classy.

If only I knew someone that I could annoy from the building association to rectify these appliances … Oh wait. I do. The Realtor and I still text and the situation is what it is. The Bestest Friend struggles with that. No matter how much I say, “HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING”, she still can’t grasp the concept and wants to analyze and dissect. The guy’s had (a lot of) therapy and is fully aware of consequences and reasoning behind choices. He gets it, knows why he likes his crazies, is capable of explaining the motivations of his actions to me, and it’s his life to make those choices (even if my blog’s readership would chose differently for him if we were to take a poll). He’s dating someone hot and unchallenging and for a lot of people, that’s all they want –it’s fine and enough. Hell, I never thought I was going to marry the guy, so basically the dynamic that I wanted from him is the same one that he’s getting from someone else. He was never going to be my person that texts “zu zu’s petals” during the television broadcast of my favorite Christmas movie. That person, well, he got a few points for remembering my movie, but the position is still open for worthy candidates.

I also have a lot of drinking to catch up on during this next month. On Saturday, I went out with three guy friends from college and a friend from the restaurant; they got along since she’s hot (and therefore the guys liked her) and they were their normal, crude selves (and therefore she liked them). After frequenting a VFW of all places (to which I always relate to small-town Friday fish-fry’s but apparently, when in a centralized uptown location, they also have karaoke and cheap booze) we were intoxicated enough to finish the evening slow-dancing to Frank Sinatra in Baby Cakes’ candlelit living room (I know – what?). His roommate wanted to show me that he did, indeed, know how to twirl (but not dip). Well, he could twirl when I let him lead, which wasn’t too often; it’s typically my job as I am not used to guys knowing what they are doing (ha, understatement much?).

I hope all this is foreshadow for the next month because then? It has some serious potential.

As of Thursday, after the completion of a shitty three-hour exam, my first semester of grad school has officially ended. My favorite classmates –our little foursome group –celebrated with cocktails (and invited the rest of class because we don’t want to be ‘that’ group). The bar close to campus served Nightly Specials (even at age 25, how can you hate on $1 beers?) and by 9pm, we were all slightly buzzed. And further intoxicated with feelings of liberation. Because it was a Thursday! And we were drinking! Even though we have professional careers in the morning! Hangovers be damned!

My two cocktails must have gone straight through my empty stomach to my head, as it started to bob to the up-tempo beat of the pop music. To which I was immediately caught.

“Uh, Molly, what are you doing?”

“I’m happy! And I love this song!” (It’s not like I was singing along – even though I totally wanted to …)

“Um, no. You need to stop that. Now.”

My classmate then had to remind me that we were in an UNDERGRAD bar and had to play it COOL, to blend with the 19 year-olds, who are used to getting drunk every night – much less a THURSDAY which is practically the weekend –none of whom feel like dancing as early as NINE. We had already lost major cool points from the early hour –proper undergrads were still at home pre-partying and applying extra mascara –and therefore needed to act EXTRA BLASÉ. Being excited about getting drunk on a Thursday is just not done.

After another hour or so, the undergrads flooded the bar with their fake IDs, and we could barely have a conversation – the music was so LOUD! –so we found a bar downtown, staying out until TWELVE THIRTY. After midnight ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. Well, not school, but you know. Still pretty badass.

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