My morning was great-- good coffee and conversation with friends, plus good time taking pictures with Magen.

For the third time in two months, we had someone come out to look at our A/C. These people are just so rude to us every single time, but they're who we got with our home warranty company. So, therefore, I become a little rude back.

I get home from taking pictures to let the a/c guy in and realize my pictures are missing off of my memory card from the camera. I'm annoyed. Then the a/c guy acts like I'm stupid and there's nothing wrong with anything in our house. YET, he won't check the attic or anything in detail. Then he tells me the coils need to be cleaned, but it's extra money thats not covered under our warranty.

He gets very rude with me and then I just let it out; I told him it wasn't him, but we're tired of not finding a real problem and wasting money for people to come out. I basically told him to leave once I wrote him a check for our co-pay. Please do your job and don't act like just b/c I'm a girl at my house by myself that I'm stupid.

Back to the pictures...they're gone. Just gone. I couldn't find them. I almost started crying out of annoyance. Finally, I found a program online for free that was able to recover them, so all was not lost.

My phone kept dropping conversations during all this, which didn't help my mood.

When Reid got home I pretty much said we're going out to eat. We get to the restaurant of choice and realize it's closed. So we drive further through traffic, get out of the car, only to realize that Reid didn't have his wallet and I didn't have my purse. So we go home. We finally did eat a good dinner, but were ready to go home and relax.

Ok, these things seem small now, but at the time, they were huge and made me so frustrated. That's all.

Today seemed as though it was going to be bad... surprisingly was great in the morning ... and then dive bombed this afternoon. Came in early today.. PICTURE DAY!  A few of us drove around Manhattan and stopped at a few places to have our pictures taken.  It was actually really fun.  Really HOT but really fun.  This afternoon I about lost it when I had PILES of work on my desk... and piles! And more coming in and everything.. I mean every piece of it had to be done RIGHT NOW.  Do this one right now.... do this one right now... this one needs to be done right away... SOMETHING has to wait! Reload all 3 logs... do this one .... GRRR THEN I finish everything take a deep breath...I tell myself "I'm doing great, I can handle it " (side note: Angela.."Can we do it?" "YES WE CAN!")  Go to file it all away and get questioned about a spot that needs to be aproved. IS IT DONE?  "yes" "GOOD BECAUSE THEY CALLED ABOUT IT" "I've only had it for 20-30min its 3 spots each a minuet long there's no possible way to do them any faster."  I ALMOST lost it! MAN I LOVE MY JOB!!!!!!

Maybe tomorrow will be one of those "GOOD DAYS" but its Friday so probably not.  Man what a downer! oh here's good news... we're in a Tornado watch until midnight SWEEET!

Yep people are different, and that can make for challenging interpersonal interactions.

Do you tend to notice passive-aggressive actions of others? I do. I'm extermely sensitive to them. So when someone hands me a stack of paper to fill up the copy machine as I'm waiting for my print outs...it could be that the person is passively-agressively reminding me that it is everyone's job to add paper to the copy machine or it could be that she was not sure I knew where we kept the paper. It's possible, right?

Some days you just have to accept the fact that things are not always going to go your way. That's when you have to rely on friends to pick you up and remind you that...

"I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me!"

Thank you SM for the reminder!

p.s. people like you too!

All I know is that it was fine this morning until I went out on the back patio with my son. I was trying to read One of Us by Willa Cather while my son ran his usual laps around the patio table (with ocassional stops to climb in a patio chair or two) and I couldn't get comfy. I tried the reclinging chair and that just seemed to make things worse.

There is a shooting and alternately throbbing pain in the lower left side of my back, just above my pant line. I can actually feel the spot that is out of whack. If I push on it I feel both intense pain and a sort of momentary relief. It's horrible and I hate it.

And what's worse is that there isn't much I can do about it. I'm home alone with the little one tonight. I've taken Advil (and am going to take some more), but that's not doing much for me. I don't want to take Vicodin because it is outdated and makes me a bit loopy. I need to be with it in case anything happens to the baby. I can't even look forward to a half-assed massage because my husband is at cards tonight. He has, however, promised to rub it tomorrow if it still hurts.

Sitting hurts. Laying down hurts. Standing hurts. This sucks!

Not that I was ever some fortress of drinking fortitude, but at least during my younger days the spins only set in after I'd taken 10 or 11 shots of some crappy cheap liquor (or usually a combination of them, including peppermint schnapps, which in case you didn't know, tastes like Scope) that were sitting around the party I happened to be at. Even in my later 20's I could sort of match my dear friend Porchdog by slamming down half a dozen shots of his special NY concoction while drinking a couple glasses full of electric lemonade.*

Two summers ago, I almost held my own with my in-laws who are not alcholics, but are confirmed drinking experts. For 10 days in Ireland, I got offered liquor and they were thrilled I didn't turn them down. In fact, I didn't once get called a teetotaler. Plus I even took a sip out of my free pint of Guiness and for me, that was monumental.

Last night, I proved those days of drinking with wild abandon are gone. I'd had a rather rough, hectic weekend. It started when I packed my son in the car and headed to my father's at 9 am on Friday morning. Two hours later we arrived at his fire station where my son was enthralled by the flashing lights and ability to run through the station with wild abandon. That same day we swam in the pool, played with the giant choo-choo that runs through his backyard (G scale), ran amok in the backyard, chased after a cat and ate pizza. He only had a 40 minute nap in the car, so he crashed hard. Only to wake up at some point in the wee hours of the morning and stay awake for about two hours. Since we were sharing a room, I got to stay awake with him.  Every timeI moved in the bed, he let out a cry from his pack n' play. It was fairly miserable.

Saturday morning he slept in until 8:30, but that meant we were running late to pick my mother up at my grandmother's. My mother was in town for her annual visit, which used to be a once every decade in a half visit, but has suddenly become a yearly thing.** She wasn't alone either. She spent the week with my grandmother as well as my two nephews who are 1 1/2 and almost 4. I had to go pick them up in order to drive them all down to the airport.

I won't even go into the details of that trip. It's a whole other blog. I'll just say I had three car seats in my back seat, a mother who I have a strained relationship with in the front and a son who decided not to fall asleep until we were 10 minutes from my house. Oh, and since he couldn't sleep, but was really overdue for a nap, he cried a lot of the way home.

A drink was in order. And Saturday night I confined it to one little drink. I felt fine.

On Sunday though, my husband invited everyone from his band over to our house. Their keyboardist/bassist is moving to Pennsylvania, and he wanted to have everyone over for a final jam session/cook-out. I was fine with this, although I'd only met the lead singer and his wife before. I wasn't even planning to drink, but the lead singer's wife brought a bottle of wine and since I didn't want her to drink alone, I let her pour me a glass. I'm not a wine drinker by nature. I actually dislike the taste of it, especially warm red wine, but it's what she had so I drank.

The guys finished up, the baby went to bed, the food was cooking and the alcohol started flowing. Since I'd bought a rather large container of Absolute pre-made mojito mix and had only had one glass out of it, I figured I'd offer the slushy concoction up to the other party goers. Once again the lead singer's wife was my partner in crime, so I poured us glasses. For a pre-made mix, it is surprisingly strong. The bottle says 15%, so maybe it was more the two plastic tumblers of it I drank. Either way, I was having a good time.

I managed not to make an idiot of myself while we had guests, but even before they all left, I noticed the patio was spinning when I moved my head two quickly to one side. I knew it was not a good sign, but I went ahead and finished my drink. By the time I was laying on the couch watching TV with my husband, things were spinning no matter what I did. I was on a merry-go-round, and not the nice one with the pretty horses at Six Flags. I was on the hideous one with the apocolyptic horse at the House on the Rock.

My husband forced a glass of water on me before I went to bed. At the time I was a bit annoyed, but in hindsight I guess it was good. I could have felt much worse this morning.

As it was, my head ached. My stomach churned and when I tried to change my son's diaper (which was only wet), I went running for the bathroom. I didn't hurl, but I really kind of wanted to. The glass of water I drank made my mouth and throat feel better, but made my stomach flip flop again. Around 10:30 I got half a banana down and managed to keep it there. For lunch I was able to eat some veggie soup, but the smell of my son's polenta made me gag.

We spent the morning on the couch watching Wonder Pets, the Backyardigans and Wonder Pets again. As a rule I let my son watch 15-30 minutes of TV a day. Today we watched close to two hours.

Around three o'clock I started to feel better. Fourteen and a half hours is a long time to recover from one glass of red wine and two glasses of 15% mojito mix. Getting older really sucks.

*I actually have no illusions that I matched him during this very long night of drinking and I fully admit that at one point he was holding me up and forcing me to focus on things while I tried not to fall off of his balcony. However, aside from throwing up a smidge the next morning, I was relatively fine.

**My grandmother who she does not at all get along with is getting pretty darn old--88--and I think my mother is suddenly worried about her possible inheritance.

There were plenty of opportunities for its senseless murder.  Bennett watched several unsupervised episodes of Dora the Explorer on it, and frankly, the kid’s a bit shifty.  You’ve got to keep your eye on him, especially since one of his favorite games is “fun with gravity;”  he loves to throw and drop things just to see what happens.

My laptop was also frequently jostled during our trip home from Michigan.  We had a two-flight trip with a two-hour layover in Detroit.  I was maneuvering three kids (aged 1, 3, and 5), three backpacks, a stroller, and a wheeled carry-on all my myself. Often there were so many things hanging on the back of the stroller that it would topple over when Bennett got out of his seat.

Again, I’m blaming my one-year-old.  If you think that’s poor form, you don’t have young children. As long as I delete this post before he can read it, I’ll avoid long-term emotional scarring, and if I’m lucky, he’ll be illiterate for another four years.  Anyway, I’m kidding. Mostly.

Maybe it was just the hard drive’s time to go.

SJ tried to fix it, but no dice.  He took it to some hardware ninjas at work, but they confirmed his diagnosis:  my hard drive was dead, dead, dead.

The cruelest part of this tragedy is that SJ backed up my laptop earlier this year (I bought him a fancy new backup drive for Christmas.)  I hooked it up this morning, and sure enough, he’d backed up my PC in March.

Unfortunately, he backed up the wrong file. I have absolutely nothing created since 2005.  Everything I’ve written, created, downloaded, and saved since 2005 has vanished.

I don't blame SJ.  He was trying to help me out, and he feels *really* bad.  I could have backed it up myself, but didn't.  Believe me, I will next time.

Now I’m going through the Kubler-Ross grief stages for a playing card-sized piece of metal.

I’ve stopped crying now – sobbing, at least – and I’m taking stock.  A lot is lost: address lists, all my papers from grad school, pictures sent by friends, budgets, ideas for books to write, software, my archived emails.

The most important things are recoverable; I can download my blog posts, much of my email is available on the web, my resume and expense reports are attached to recently sent emails.  Our family photos are on another computer.

I’ll get over this soon enough.  It’s just a thing.  A thing that literally encapsulated my work for the past two and a half years, but still just a thing.   I’m going to send it away to see if someone can recover any of the data.  It’s a slim (and expensive!) hope, but it’s allowing me to extend the denial stage and soften the blow.

Anyway, there’s an obvious moral to this story.  Please don’t let my hard drive die in vain.  Back up your computer.  NOW!

Enter Hitler stage left. Cue for cast and crew to roll eyes heavenwards and exude deep, meaningful sighs.

So tonight, I hate what I do.

But tomorrow I will put on a brave face, tell everyone that they’re marvellous, and fall in love all over again.

You know how some days you just WANT TO WAKE UP AND HAVE IT ALL BE A DREAM?

Yeah, today was one of those days.

I missed the meeting.

I had a nightmare.

I felt sick. (Okay okay I KNOW I feel sick a lot. I always have. I don't know why.)

The engine light came back on in my car.

And I was locked out of my house when I got home from work.

So... how was your day?

I understand if you never trust me again, though I regret and hate myself like f*ck.

But I'm amazed that you still talk to me, that you even still tell me stuff.

I'm utterly awed by the fact that you've put up with the things I've said and done and that you could actually forgive me.

And I didnt even know what I did.

I am so f*cking sorry.

I wish I could take it all back but I cant.

So where do I go from here,

And what do I say to you?

I cant face you without thinking of the horrible things I've done,

And why didnt you tell me what harm I caused?

I want you to trust me again, in fact, I think I need it.

I dont deserve that much I know, but hell, I bloody hate myself if you totally lost trust in me.

It will add to the list of f*cking many screw ups I've made in my pathetic little life.

Cant believe this is happening.

I would never have done anything to let you down, anything to lose your trust, anything to hurt you and get you into shit.

But apparently, I did.

Not once, not twice, but over and over again.

And through it all, you kept quiet about it, and you didnt even say anything bout it to me.

Oh god. I wish you had something to me,

And damn it, why dont you just rant and scream at me.

I dont know how to bloody face you anymore,

I cant think of anything that would make this up to you,

But for my sanity, I need to find a way to gain back your trust,

Cos damn, you're one heck of a friend,

And I need it, so I know that I'm not some bloody screwed up kid that the world's better off without.

You turned out to be the hero and I, the villian in this story.

I'm so f*cking stupid.

I woke one morning this week in tears. The worst nightmare ever. No reason for it, none at all. I went to sleep in a good mood, the prior day was bearable, nothing was wrong. And my dream was...horrible. Never in my life have I heard of a dream like this...never.
::Killing someone in a dream. Someone very near and dear to you. Someone you love. Why in the hell would you dream about killing them? And why would you dream they let you?

The past two mornings have been considerably better. I've been woken up by a phone call. I smile before I even get out of bed. Before my eyes open, I feel loved.

Debo decir que no me considero celosa... Bueno, lo soy en algo pero más con mis amigos porque la verdad es que no le veo motivo de serlo cuando estás con alguien... porque se supone que están, no? Además tengo trauma. Mi primer novio fue súper híper archi celoso, así le tengo aversión a esas cosas. Jamás he hecho escenas de celos, ni he pedido explicaciones o nada. Pero eso es respecto a "ellas" nomás...

Es más fácil para mí por ejemplo (aunque suene estúpido) sentir celos de las cosas o de situaciones que hagan poner a quien me interesa con la cara de baboso o hipnotizado que me gustaría que ponga con mi presencia o simplemente al escuchar mi voz. En esas ocasiones suelo ponerme triste y un poquito molesta, tal vez por orgullo también. Hoy me pasó algo así al encender la PC.

Todavía no siento los ojos pesados, pero quisiera dormirme YA! y que la tierra deje de girar por varias horas para que el tiempo se detenga...

But, those days will pass and if you need to talk, call me or come by and see me...

This guy in the picture (Dan Uggla) had a really bad night on the biggest stage (2008 All Star Game) in the "House that Ruth Built". He made 3 errors (2 on consecutive plays), grounded into a double play to kill a rally, and struck out 3 times.

He had a really bad night, but if you ask him 20 years from now about playing at Yankee stadium, he'll only remember the dreams of his childhood growing up in New York to play on that field.

You will have days like that, but just know that they will pass, and that as you look back on those times they are often days that help form you into the person you have become. So, be careful and use your failures to learn and remember you are loved by me, your mom, and God.

If you learn to trust that you are beloved, regardless of what you do, you can return from even the worst of decisions. Soon I'll share with you the story of Josh Hamilton, who has learned to love himself, his family, and his God. He had a great night in Yankee stadium the night before Uggla had his nightmare.

My dad and I recently had a fight. It included some very harsh words on both of our parts and opened my eyes as to how very, very different we are. It was surprising to me because I generally consider myself a very level-headed, kind person. I was unaware that I still harbored so much pent-up... anger? hurt? frustration? Pick any negative emotion and it probably applies. And I do not want to be that type of person! I want to hug bunnies and eat oreos and write blog entries about The Bachelorette. None of this serious, emotional business, please.

Anyway, my dad sent me an email this afternoon (as I was studying for my biology test) threatening not to pay for my senior year of college. Insert anxiety attack here. I don't know what else to say. While I am somewhat confident that it is an idle threat, I'm preparing for the worst. He has done things like this before. Welcome to dysfunction! Grab a chair and bring your own Zoloft.

My sister, who no longer talks to him, made me feel a little better this evening. She said that despite our crappy circumstances, it's amazing that we somehow turned out okay.

Friday night my step-mom and aunt showed up in preparation for a day full of shopping. Aside from being a bit loud, often crude and wanting to shop way too much, they are pretty fun guests who require little and add almost no stress to my life. Normally a visit from them is great. I get out of the house to shop and my son gets heaps of attention (and other people to hold/carry/feed him). This weekend, things were a bit more complicated. They weren't going to be my only house guests. On Saturday, my mother was coming to town.

For many people this probably isn't quite the anxiety inducer as it is for me. My mom and I don't have the normal mother/daughter relationship. In the last 19 years, I have seen my mother six times, and that includes yesterday when I picked her up from the airport. Three of her visits have been in the last year. And all three have been a trip to visit my grandmother, with a side trip down to see me. The first time she stayed one night. The second we spent most of the day together when I drove her two hours to for her cousin's funeral and then an extra hour when I picked her up and took her to the airport.

Now, this isn't a pity me blog, but in those other 18 years, I have graduated from high school, college, gotten married, gotten divorced, gotten re-married and had a baby. None of which has warranted a visit from my mom.

So when she emailed me a few months ago and asked me to pick her and my two nephews up at the airport, drive them to a Cracker Barrel about an hour away (to meet up with my grandmother for the other hour of driving) and then pick her up one week later at the same Cracker Barrel, I was less than thrilled. Willing to do it, but dreading the day I had to.

Yesterday, I had to get her. The problem though, was that my aunt and step-mom were still in town. So I spent the morning with them, then at 12:30, I left for the airport and they left to go shopping. I got my mom and nephews and headed back to my house so she could see my son (who was napping when her plane came in). They spent about an hour at my house, just enough time for one of my nephews to ask what every single thing in our house and backyard were and why they were there. Then we loaded them back in the car and took off for our roundezvous point.

We pulled in at 4:18, just three minutes passed our scheduled meeting time. My grandmother was sitting outside in a long sleeve pants suit, despite the 90 degree heat. She was in the shade at least. My mom and nephews joined her while I hauled two backpacks, one suitcase, one diaper bag, one giant box fan, one stroller and two car seats to my grandmother's car. I then strapped both car seats in and the kids in to them. My grandmother was in a hurry to get home, so I said a quick goodbye and was right back in the car for another hour.

When I got home, the house was empty. While I was making my way to the Cracker Barrel, my aunt and step-mom came back, picked my son up and took him out for more shopping. My husband was mowing the lawn. For five glorious minutes, I got to sit on my couch, turn the TV on and blur my mind with Degrassi. It was wonderful.

My peace was quickly shattered when everyone returned from shopping. My son immediately started running around the living room and my aunt and step-mom started pulling their bags out of hiding (we'd put them in various closets so my mom would have no idea they were there--ugliness would have ensued). They plopped down in various chairs and regaled me with stories of their exploits. My step-mom pouted a little because my aunt had stopped her from buying my son a goldfish. I smiled gratefully at my aunt.

They stayed until well after my son had gone to sleep. My husband was watching some History channel show about throwing axes and I was answering a million questions about my mom. It was fine, but my brain just kind of hurt. Finally they left for home. My husband went out to get dinner, since I was far too bushed to cook and once again, I had the house to myself. I sacked out on the couch, put on more Degrassi and tried to forget that in one week I have to go back and get my mom for another uncomfortable ride to the airport.

Sometimes
Only sometimes
I question everything
And I'm the first to admit
If you catch me in a mood like this
I can be tiring
Even embarrassing

I was thinking of the three people I was closest with in high school tonight.  They were First Love, Soul Mate BFF, and BFF.  Thanks to various social networking tools, I can see where they ended up in life.

BFF is a New Media hipster on the west coast.  Her wedding last year was billed as one of the first ever Twittered. She also has her own Wiki stub.

Soul Mate BFF is now a VP at a largeish investment firm in NYC.

First Love does photagraphy work at some of my favorite edgy publications.

I've had sporadic contact with BFF but none with the other two since I've been married.  I'm feeling a little wistful of the path not chosen tonight especially as I search through couch cushions looking for the $15 that fell out of my pocket which has to get me through pay day.