Sometimes Work Can Be Fun

This post features an almost word-for-word email exchange with my coworker. Some details have been altered/removed because they were work speak and no one needs to be exposed to that. Plus, I felt like it.

And since some of my readers (I believe we’re up to seven, kiddos!) aren’t familiar with my job, the big ol’ conglomerate or the monotonous nature of being chained to Microsoft Outlook all day, I’ve offered my translation on the exchange. What can I say? I’m a giver.
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Coworker: See email below. Seems they changed the amount of shipping dates. I don’t think it is a big deal…but we might have to adjust the December number on the divisional calendar if a new one goes out.

Translation for non-big conglomerate peeps: Communication Gal over here and emailing coworker are in charge of the calendar and someone has gone and done messed up our dates. Now, we either let the calendar be flat-out wrong or we update it, print it (again) and send to our foot soldiers.

Decisions. (Sigh)

Now I know how Obama feels.

Communications Gal: At the moment, no other calendar updates have been provided. I think this one might have to wait until a bigger update comes along (if it does).

Translation: I think this falls under the category of “you’re shit outta luck, bub."

Coworker: Wait. I looked at the calendar and we actually have the # of days correct. Not sure how that happened but it did!!!

Translation: 0_0 We. Are. AWESOME. Who cares how or why! Carpe diem, my friend!

Communications Gal: Must be those superpowers we've been secretly talking about…

Guess this means I can finally order us those capes.

Translation: We should be rewarded, handsomely, for our blind foresight. Also, it’s the end of the day, my blood sugar is low and I think you think I’m amusing.

Coworker (seconds later): And crowns…Wonder Woman style.

Translation: You have amused me and I will share in your disillusions. Plus, I like Wonder Woman. And her outfit.
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Ta-da.

Don’t worry. No cubicles, florescent lights, or Microsoft Office products were harmed during our thinly-veiled attempt at self amusement.

This time.

Cupcakes Never Lie

We’re having a boy!

Yessiree. We found out yesterday we are having a boy. And all the people rejoiced. Mostly because there won’t be a mini-me running around—the world just isn’t ready yet. Neither is the hubs. Poor dear.

We’ve notified the family, friends and the rest of the folks that happen to be voyeurs on our Facebook pages. For those who were in town to share the good news, we even provided snacks—the lovely blue cupcakes shown above (photo courtesy of our friend Justin who always takes pictures of his food).

Many thanks to Violet’s Cakes in Pasadena for whipping up the yummy-nummy treats in record time after our call from the doctor’s office while other cupcake shops refused to help a preggo gal out.

Oh Violet’s, you have won your way into my heart. And my tummy. My taste buds thank you. My waistline cries out.

Look at what you started.

I suppose the road to hell is, in fact, paved with good intentions delicious cupcakes. Frankly, I’m more than okay with that.

Bring on the blue! Bring on the trucks and trains and He-Man action figures! Now to brace the world for our boy: Oliver George. (Oliver for his maternal great grandfather; George for his paternal grandfather.)

Look out world: I promise a doozy of an amazingly awesome human being.

And, we’re back…

Sorry for the blog vaca. Apparently my fingers only type memos or bang out PowerPoints these days when laid upon a keyboard…

As my return-from-the-abyss post, I thought we’d explore the top questions I receive when I announce I’m with child. I know; that’s exactly what you hoped this post would be all about. What can I say, I’m here to please.

For the singletons out there—rest assured; this isn’t really a blog update on the pregnancy. It’s more of one knocked up chick’s commentary on human nature. Or so I tell myself when I’m explaining the ins and outs of my pregnancy to a perfect stranger.

Enough chitchat. Let’s get to the hard news.
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Top Questions (& Answers) to a Preggo Gal

1. Is it a boy or a girl?

Answer: Dunno. We’ll find out June 30.

Preggo gal’s take: I still can’t believe this is the number one question I get. Seems people are eager to label the kiddo “he” or a “she” as soon as possible. Since everyone, including the hubs and I, have an aversion to using “it” as a pronoun for our child, we have come up with an alternative, non-descript name: Critter.

That should work until we can stick our offspring with a gender-appropriate title.

2. Are you going to find out the gender?

Answer: You bet.

Preggo gal’s take: Actually, the question I get is if we are going to find out the “sex.” I do believe the proper term is gender. But even if it’s not, I don’t want to think about my kid and the word “sex”. I’m just not ready for that talk yet.

3. How are you feeling?

Answer: Well, thanks.

Yes, I had morning sickness. A lot.

No, it was not limited to the morning.

Yes, I was so beyond exhausted that I swear it rivaled my bout of mono.

Yes, that was the same case of mono in which I can’t remember three weeks of my life.

Yes, during those three weeks I performed in a play…for an audience…twice. It’s okay; I played Ophelia. That chick was so out of it, the mono was like a study in method acting.

Now—I feel fine.

Preggo gal’s take: Second trimester and I are best buds.

4. Are you excited?

Answer: Yes. Very.

Preggo gal’s take: I’m still shocked I’m asked this question for a two reasons:

a. The hubs and I were trying for lil’ Critter. If you know me, you know I’m a planner and a perfectionist. Ipso facto, you understand that I squeal with delight every time one of my plans comes together. Really. It usually causes a scene.

b. Fact: preggos over share. All. The. Time. If you don’t know me, just assume I’m excited. You just never know what a preggo is going to blurt out in response to your innocent questions. I'll provide a safe response (at least for this question), but I can't guarantee the same for the rest of the knocked up sisterhood.

5. How far along / when is the baby due?

Answer: Currently at 18 weeks which puts me at 5 months. (Don’t try to divide the weeks by four here. Preggo math is all sorts of whack.)

Critter is due to enter the world on November 18. That would make him/her a Scorpio. May the stars save the child’s Capricorn mother.

Preggo gal’s take: Odd that this question is near the bottom of the list. I still can’t believe people want to know the gender or the innermost workings of my gut and psyche over when the kid will actually show up.

Side note: I’m super impressed with some people’s math skills. As soon as I tell them how many weeks I am, they do the math and announce the correct due date time frame. I’m in awe as my only math skill is being able to figure out the tip in less than 10 seconds. These people actually apply math to an imaginary calendar. That’s some Rain Man stuff right there, folks.
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There you have it. Now you know what’s on people’s minds when one is presented with the news of an impending birth. You are also armed with the answers to those burning questions.

Now, all other blog readers are envying you. Bask in the glow, my friends. I might not always be able to come up with juicy posts like this one.

Ninakupenda, Kenya

I am crazy-out-of-my-mind jealous that the Pops (aka, Dad/Randy) is in Nairobi right now. He’s on a three to six month assignment for the big conglomerate. (Yes—the Pops and I work for the same mega company.)

Not only does it sound like a cool adventure, but…I’ve actually been to Nairobi. Believe it or not, that’s where the Hubs and I honeymooned. We safaried in Kenya, stayed on the beach in Zanzibar, off the coast of Tanzania, and throughout the trip, Nairobi was our home base.

I. Love. Africa. I can barley see because of my envy.

Though I am jealous squared, I’m also immensely proud of both of my Pops and Mom from going through with this crazy assignment.

What? I’m raging with hormones. I can, will, and do swing from one side of the emotional spectrum to the other. Sue me.

Anyway, I know this can’t be easy for them:

• The Pops is halfway around the globe in a glorious third world country; Mom is in Ohio which isn’t exactly where she’d like to be.
• Internet connections don’t always work in Africa. Same goes for television, electricity, hot water and all recognizable traffic laws.
• They will have no physical contact with their spouse for a long while. (And that, dear (two) readers, is as far as I can go with that without getting a mental picture.)

But, whether they see it at the moment or not, they are having this adventure together, on two different continents. Sufficed to say, I am proud of them as individuals and as a couple.

I know I can’t make the days easier or the hours go by faster, but I can share this quote from a woman who deeply and truly loved Kenya that may help a twinge:

“When you have a great and difficult task, something perhaps almost impossible, if you only work a little at a time, every day a little, suddenly the work will finish itself.”

—Baroness Karen Blixen, Danish writer known for Out of Africa. Karen’s home is preserved and now a museum in the foothills of the Ngong (Knuckle) Hills in Nairobi. The Hubs and I visited there on our honeymoon. The house, and this quote, kick ass.

Well said, Baroness. Asante sana.

Misadventures with the Green Fairy

Ah, the Green Fairy. Poets and artists of Parisian bohemian society thought freely and creatively while doused in the warm embrace of the mystical (and imaginary) Green Fairy. The mascot of the drink known as Absinthe, she has inspired works of art while driving her courtiers to madness. In other words: she is one tricky b*tch (and my kind of gal).

While we were in New Orleans a few weeks ago, the hubs tried to dance with the lovely Green Fairy (after all, the Old Absinthe House is famed bar in the city) but, for lack of a better term, she schooled the hell of out him. Apparently, she gets offended when one seeks her after being in the company of beer, Hurricanes and Hand Grenades. She is, after all, no one’s second—or fourth—choice.

As the hubs was having his, er, violent disagreement with his other woman for the evening, I longed for a different Green Fairy all together.

Now, from reading this site, you know I’m knocked up and thus did not seek the delicious but very, very alcoholic Absinth. Nope. I was stuck with a head cold that just wouldn’t quit. Yup, I was in New Orleans and couldn’t drink a drop or smell a scent. A city made practically made of food and drink was nearly lost on me in the haze of a head cold.

I’m not sure, dear (two) readers, if you’ve ever tried sleeping with a cold without the aid of some lovely medicine. Without mincing words, it sucks. And, due to this sorry, snotty episode, it made me think of another emerald pixie: Nyquil.

Think about it, Nyquil really is the modern-day Green Fairy. The color is right, the taste is full of bitter booze and it warmly lulls you into its bosom to help you sleep. Man, did I long for it like an artist for his missing muse…or his missing booze. Something like that.

But, now we’re back from “The City That Care Forgot,” my head cold has decided not to bother with the likes of me any more and the hubs as recovered from disaster date with his liquid (one-time) mistress. Life is back to normal…except I still have dreams about Kylie Minogue in Nyquil commercials. Ah, if only.

Cold Cuts

Being a newly-knocked up gal, (I'm almost 7 weeks) I'm still getting the hang of this whole there's-a-new-life-form-growing-in-your-abdomen thingy.

Seriously, the poor hubs. I don't adapt to change very well.

While preparing to (ahem) conceive, I become aware of the obvious things I'd have to give up. Top of the list: drinking. I do wonder what all the local bartenders will do with themselves when the hubs and I don't come in for Friday date night. I picture the top-shelf vodka for my dirty martinis gathering dust and gradually being covered in cobwebs. I see white wine producers scratching their heads at the falling sales in the Pasadena area and wondering what they did to offend.

Even though the local economy may slip even more due to my dry spell, I still do feel hungover everyday, with the occasional vomiting, sans the drinks. And that, dear (one) reader hardly seems fair. (Sorry for the graphic nature of the puking comment but, I have to tell it like it is.)

Moving on, other favorite items also get put away. Caffeine is not allowed (even green tea which only contains about 3mg of the delectable stimulus). My beloved Sushi (with sake, natch) is a complete no-go. And though I wasn't a regular visitor to hot tubs, I certainly can't become one now.

But, after 3 weeks of being on the pregnancy plan, the thing I miss the most: cold cuts.

That's right, no deli meat for the preggo girl. Unless you warm the meat up until it's steaming...but, that kind of ruins the whole point of cold cuts, doesn't it?

I never thought of myself as a sandwich junkie. Actually, never really though about sandwiches that much at all -- I mean, why would you when there's sake and martinis on the brain. But now that I can't have the stuff, I realize what a staple in my life's it's been. When there's nothing really to eat, make a sandwich. Hungry but don't want to consume a whole meal, grab some turkey and you're good to go.

I do realize what I'm saying is that I could possibly miss cold cuts more than drinking. Don't worry, I'll make sure I explore that thought in therapy.

I'm seriously thinking that after this kid is born, I'm gonna chase my dirty martini with a club sandwich. And yes, I did just gross myself out. But I don't think that's going to stop me.

And so it begins…

Here it is. The first blog post.

(Tap, tap)

This thing on?

Welcome! Come in, relax, grab a glass of wine and don’t forget to tip the servers.

I’ve been toying with an idea about a blog for some time…does seem to be the hip thing now a’days. Lots of my friends have blogs and I enjoy reading them. But, just because my friends do it is no reason for me to start—unless we are talking about underage drinking or jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, of course.

Sorry Mom, peer pressure is a beast.

Anywho, back to the blog: I just felt like I had something to say. What I needed to say exactly, well, that was what made me pause. I write all day long as a Communications Manager for a mega conglomerate. It’s interesting but it’s certainly not what I'd put in the fun column. And, amongst all the memos and comm plan grids, it just felt like my writing voice was getting weaker by the day.

So, I took the plunge and got a page. And, then it sat blank…for a while. I just couldn’t come up with my niche in the bloggie world. Do I write about food, cooking, wine, marriage, my obsession with Ferbies? Just kidding on the last one. Wanted to make sure you were still with me.

Then it came to me over some beers with my husband (aka “the hubs”). Life’s pretty random; I’m certainly random. Ipso facto—the site will be collection of all the randomness that comes flying at us any given day. It’ll be a sort of stream of consciousness with stories and observations that make this life worth livin’.

I know, hard to contain your excitement, dear (one) reader, but do please try.

Just so we all get where this is going, here are some ground rules I pinky swear not to break:

1.Although we are starting a family, it won’t all be about ultrasounds and kid stuff. I’m sure all that hubbub will make an appearance (it is what is happening in my life), but it won’t dominate the site. For all the singletons out there—you’re welcome.

2. No political diatribes…unless, of course, it’s for equal rights. If you aren’t for equal rights for everyone, do me a favor and skedaddle off this site. Not trying to be rude…I just don’t think you and I have much to say to each other. Love, happiness and rainbow puppies to you.

3. Remember: I’m a department of one. Story suggestions and kind comments are always welcome.

Let’s roll.