Just because there are donut holes in the kitchen does not mean you should eat more than ten donut holes before dinner. Or ever.
Birdy’s first babysitter from the non-grandparent population! No kidding! And it went wonderfully. J. came over and was a total natural from the get-go, and A. and I had a lovely anniversary dinner and drinks and did not worry one bit. Couldn’t be more grateful about the whole thing.
And then after we came home we kept having drinks and having drinks. Unwise, yes, but a nice reminder of when we were a two-seater. And a nice reminder, in the morning, that over-drinking and warm yummy morning babies are a bad combination of headaches and nausea and guilt.
And We’ve Already Joined the Flock
Also, our priest, our TOTALLY KICK-ASS PRIEST, (a phrase I would have bet my life on never, ever saying) who is a kind and tough woman, who was recently the grand marshal of the Gay Pride parade, and who is the reason we’ve attended church more than twice in the past year, is leaving our parish. We attended her last (hot, long, teary) service (hotter, longer, tearier with a baby, by the way) and then went to the Caribbean place for that damned black bean salad. I can’t stay away, despite the asses hanging over my table. And I will miss Lisa.
Joined some friends for coffee on Sunday afternoon and took photos of C’s ultra-preggo belly, which I think turned out nicely but with which I would like to eff around with in Photoshop. A lovely time, of course, but seeing that belly… I know I’m completely nuts but sometimes I miss being totally pregnant like that. And not just because I got to wear elastic pants and didn’t dream of judging my body, although that’s part of it, but mostly because it was so quiet and exciting and totally private between me and Birdy.
New Job, Day One
I think I was busier on my first day at this new job than I was on my busiest day at my last job. And that’s not saying I was crazy busy today, that’s saying I’ve atrophied and I am out of practice at doing useful work. And I had a little panic moment, too: when will I read blogs? When will I write blogs? When will I instant message E. to tell her how much I like cheese or that I’m afraid that my feet stink but I’m taking my shoes of under my desk anyway? Why did I want any of that to change?
And then the clouds parted and I remembered why, and I went to Staples and Home Depot to pick out a desk and get a copy of a key.