Welcome to the World Monday, Jul 30 2007

My good friend M became a mother today.

Her due date wasn’t until Sept. 17, so when I got a text message yesterday that her water had broken, I was worried.  The doctors were hoping to hold off delivery a little while, but the baby clearly had other ideas and M and her husband’s little girl arrived at 12:11 p.m.

She only weighs 4 lbs., 7 oz., but is 18 inches long.  She came out crying and pink, and seems to be small but healthy.  M had what must have been the easiest delivery in the world and said that she only pushed 5 or 6 times before the baby arrived.  I talked to her less than 2 hours later and she sounded amazing and said she didn’t feel at all like she had just had a baby.

Baby Girl M will probably be in the hospital for a couple weeks, until she’s holding her temperature and eating and gaining weight and everything, but for now everything looks good.  She’s not even in the true NICU, but in the level 2 nursery.  I’m hoping I’ll be able to see them tomorrow.

Every time one of my friends becomes a mother I am amazed.  It seems like such an immense thing, scary and wonderful at the same time.

There’s a kid’s song with the lyrics, “I am a promise…I am a possibility…I am a great big bundle of potentiality!”   Those are the words I think of when a baby is born.  I hope that this little girl will grow up to be beautiful and caring like her mother, and sweet and funny like her father.  I hope she will find those things in life that give her joy.  I hope that there will be a lifetime of love for her.  She has wonderful parents and two crazy canine “siblings” and a host of family and friends who will no doubt spoil her.  I know I will.

She was in a hurry to get here, so I think the world has big plans for her.  I think she will probably be a force to be reckoned with.  I can’t wait to see the person who this tiny little girl becomes.

Welcome to the world, Baby M.

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Girl at the Movies: Hairspray Wednesday, Jul 25 2007

I grew up in a musical family.  My dad sang in and directed church choirs and barbershop choruses and quartets.  My mom also sang in church choirs and is currently singing with a female barbershop chorus.  Both my brothers and I were in show choir.  I grew up dancing and singing in the living room to original Broadway cast albums (records, not tapes or CDs!)  and after we taped Grease and Annie off of TV, I must have watched them a million times each.  Soundtracks are still one of my favorites types of music to listen to in the car, especially on long drives.  And I’ve been absolutely thrilled in the last few years to see musicals coming back to the big screen (Dreamgirls, RENT, The Producers and Chicago, to name a few*).

All of this is to say that at this point you could film almost any Broadway musical and put it on the big screen, and I would rush right out to see it and buy the soundtrack immediately and squeeee like a little 13-year-old girl.

And that’s exactly what happened when we went to see Hairspray on Friday night.  It was just one of those movies that was fun to watch.  Really fun.  I had seen the original 1988 (non-musical) movie, but have never seen the Broadway show, so it was interesting to see how everything came together.  Visually, it was a delight — the costumes, the sets, etc.

Nikki Blonsky as Tracy was fabulous, and I can totally see why Zac Efron is a big hearthrob at the moment (of course, it probably means I’m getting old that I thought, “He’s such a cute, talented kid!).  Both of their performances were outstanding.  I really enjoyed seeing Michelle Pfeiffer back on screen too, and Christopher Walken was his usual awesome self.

The only negative for me was John Travlota.  I get that it’s supposed to be a man dressed as a woman, but he was trying too hard or not hard enough, or maybe he just wasn’t quite campy enough?  I’m not sure, but I wish they had gone with someone else.

I did buy the soundtrack on iTunes and have been listening to it ever since.  The songs are pretty damn catchy, even if they do tend to get stuck in your head…forever.  One of the highlights of the soundtrack is a song called “Mama, I’m a Big Girl Now,” performed by Blonsky, Mariss Jane Winkour (the original Tracy from the Broadway production) and Ricki Lake (the 1988 movie Tracy). 

If you’re at all a fan of musicals, or are just looking for a fun summer movie, go see it. 

* An aside, on the subject of musicals.  You may notice I didn’t mention Moulin Rouge.  That’s because I hated Moulin Rouge.  HATED.  IT.  To this day I contend two things — 1) It’s not really a musical in the true sense of the word, and 2) It had almost nothing to do with the newfound “success” of movie musicals.  Oh and also, 3) It Sucked.

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About a Boy Tuesday, Jul 24 2007

I could love him.

Oh hell, that’s not even entirely true.  Because I do love him.  And I could very easily let myself fall in love with him.

I love that he’s freakishly tall and has gorgeous blue eyes.  I love that we have the same sense of humor and the same politics.  I love that we can dork out together, and that’s okay.

But he can drive me crazy.  We’ve had some ugly fights that are really about nothing, but they’re somehow so damn important because we both have a need to be right. 

And I can’t figure out why, after more than three years of back and forth, loving and hating, frustration and infatuation, we’re still exactly where we started.

I can’t figure out why we haven’t ever managed to overcome the long-distance nature of our relationship.  I can’t figure out why we’ve never really (really really truly) tried to make it work between us, but neither of us have had successful relationships with anyone else either.  To be honest, I can’t figure us out.

From the beginning, we saw something in each other.  There was a connection, a chemistry.  We shared moments that are very special and precious to me.  But it’s never been easy — there have been crossed signals and missed opportunities and misunderstandings and moments when I think both of us have thought it was done.

And yet it’s not.  He’s always there, reminding me that there’s this continous dance we’re doing that hasn’t ended yet.

Just once, I wish we could boil it down to the fundamentals.  I love him.  I could let myself fall in love with him so quickly, if I knew he was all in too.  I think we could have an amazing future together.  It could be tough, but it will never be boring.  I’d be ready to banter and bicker with him for a long time.

But I’m too scared to say those words and secretly, I think he is too.  We can’t figure out our ending.  We both need more from each other and we can’t find a way to give it.  There’s not just a physical distance between us, there’s an emotional one too.  It’s nobody’s fault, really.  I try to blame it on him in my mind, but I know that it’s both of us.

I want to hang in there.  I do.  I want to make us work.  But it’s messy and it’s complicated and I wonder how much longer this dance will continue.

I do love him, and a part of me will always love him.  So for now, I’m not ready to close the door.  I’m so thankful that he’s in my life.  He makes me laugh and he makes me cry and he makes me absolutely CRAZY sometimes. 

And mostly, I’m crazy about him. 

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Oh, delicious irony Monday, Jul 23 2007

Remember last week, when I wrote an entry about Harry Potter?  Remember how I didn’t really get it and I had never read the books or seen the movie and just wanted the world to shut up about f’in Hogwarts?  Remember that?

Yeah.  So it will probably make you laugh when I tell you where I was at midnight on Friday — waiting at a bookstore for the release of the last damn Harry Potter book.

(Pause for laughter.)

Now, to be clear, I was not purchasing said book.  I was merely a bystander to all the insanity.  What happened was that my best friend A has read all the books and seen all the movies.  She was planning to pick up the final book this weekend, read it and then send it to her husband, who’s overseas right now.

And it just happened that we went to see a 9:40 showing of Hairspray at a movie theater that was right next to a major chain bookstore.  Before the movie we went in and found out that they were selling vouchers that could be redeemed for the book from midnight to 2 a.m. and then again the next day.  They would begin forming the line that evening at 11:30. 

Even at 9 p.m. the place was kind of crazy, with people in costume and crafts and decorations.  I was annoyed because I found a book I wanted to buy for my trip next week and due to all the Potter madness, I couldn’t get anyone to ring me up!  And I’ve recently decided that people in costume sort of, well, freak me out a bit. 

After the movie (loved it — review coming later!) we went back.  A. and another friend got in the very loooong line and my other best friend T. and I just kind of wandered around and marvelled at the sight.  I sort of felt like the only person there that hadn’t been infected with some strange disesase (or maybe I was the one with the disease?).  There were security everywhere and just general chaos.

T. and I stationed ourselves near the front so we could see the whole frenzy.  At 12:01 they broke open the boxes and people started getting their books.  They kept making announcements about how once you had your book, you couldn’t take it out of the bag until you left the store, and you had to leave the store IMMEDIATELY.  There were some computer issues at one point and for a few minutes they couldn’t give the people their vouchers back to keep (as a souvenir, I guess) and that got people really upset. 

The line did move pretty quickly, and we were back in the car by 12:30, gigantic freaking book in hand.  She had it read by 5:00 the next day 

I tried really hard to think of some pop culture phenomenon that would have worked up that level of frenzy and fanaticism in me.  Sometimes there are movies I really want to see on opening day, but I can’t think of one I’d want to see at midnight.  I’ve woken up really early to buy concert tickets in the past, but that was generally at the urging of other people.

Maybe someday something will come along that I will be that fanatical about.  Until then, don’t get me wrong — I’m not making fun of the, uh, Potterheads.  (I have no idea if they have a secret name or not.)  I don’t quite get it, but to each his own, right?  I hope that final book was everything that they wanted it to be.

(But can people stop talking about it now??)

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It’s Baaaaack Wednesday, Jul 18 2007

The twitch in my right eye, that is.  (Actually, it’s a teeny-tiny lil muscle or nerve on my right lower lid, to be precise.)

Good christ, it is driving me crazy.  Especially because when I have an eye twitch, I sort of obsess about actually seeing it twitch, so I spend great amounts of time grabbing a mirror to try and see it twitch and it always stops right before I can see anything in my mirror. 

It’s probably because of the stress, or I didn’t get enough sleep, or maybe just because my right eye hates me.  Who knows.

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This Post is Not a Whine Fest. Wednesday, Jul 18 2007

I’m not going to whine about work here.  Or anything else.  I’m going to address something much more important, something that has been taking up a good portion of real estate in my head the last few days.

And that something much more important is…nail polish.

A couple of years ago I became an OPI polish convert.  This was actually part of a larger conversion to expensive makeup (like, say, I’ve been known to drop $20 on lip gloss…10 or 12 times a year) and it’s something I blame my best friend for, but I love her anyway.

As expensive makeup goes, OPI (which is pronounced, at least in my world, O-P-I, not Opie like from the Andy Taylor show) isn’t that bad — $7 or $8 a bottle.  And I love it for several reasons — it goes on like a dream and looks great, they have several bazillion colors and those colors?  Have the BEST NAMES EVER.

They’re most famous for the most perfect red ever, called I’m Not Really a Waitress (INRAW).  Some other ones I’ve seen are Aphrodite’s Pink Nightie, Cajun Shrimp, My Chihuahua Bites, Melon of Troy…I could go on all day.  If you’re not familiar with them, go here and look at the pull-down menu.

Anyway, in the past I’ve always just painted my toenails myself, but this past year I started having real professional manicures and pedicures.  Manicures are mostly a waste on me, because I have crappy nails and they chip and bend and brake, but I looove the pedicures.  And all five times I have had a pedicure in the past year, the same thing will happen — I choose a different OPI color and then when I need a touch-up, I’m forced to go buy a whole bottle, and half the time, the color has been discontinued (damn you, OPI) and I have to get some slight variation on the original color.

So my girlfriends and I went to have pedicures at one of those mall places last Saturday.  At first I wasn’t going to get one at all, because I had just painted my toenails with INRAW, but I am going to Florida next week and I didn’t want to miss out on an afternoon of girly fun.  My plan was to just have the salon repaint them with INRAW so that I would be able to touch them up myself, at home.

Except dammit, they didn’t have INRAW.  Or at least, it wasn’t on the shelf and I couldn’t communicate with the Asian ladies that I was trying to find it, so I gave up and grabbed another bottle.  It was called “Friar Friar Pants on Fire” (see what I mean) and it looked red to me.

And here’s where I get to the gist of this whole damn story — I can’t tell what color this color actually is!  Sometimes it looks red.  Sometimes it’s sort of a watermelon shade.  Sometimes it’s a hot pink.  And sometimes it looks orange, which is what shade OPI classifies it as on their website.  So I’m wearing only open-toed shoes and glance at my toes several hundred times a day in all different lights against all sorts of different backgrounds.

Meanwhile, I did that which I swore I wasn’t going to do this time and set out to buy my very own bottle of Friar, Friar Pants of Fire because I really liked it and it will solve my eternal dilemma of “Gah, I am wearing a pink shirt and my toes are red!” 

But freakin’ OPI has freakin’ discontinued the color. 

There are places I could buy it online, but frankly, that’s a lot of work for a bottle of nail polish.  I’ll find something else, or just slap INRAW over it when it starts to look shabby.  Until then I’ll be the one wandering around, staring at my toenails all day.

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The Days of Whine and SUCK Tuesday, Jul 17 2007

Work has sort of been kicking my ass lately. 

It’s not kicking my ass in the sense that there’s too much to do and not enough time, although that’s part of it.  That’s kind of always been a factor here, and the very nature of what I do is frantic and last-minute and your whole day (or week or month) can be ruined with a single phone call. 

It’s just kicking my ass in that I am OVER IT.  Burned the hell out.  F’ing DONE.  (I hope all this cussing does not offend one of my 5 or 6 regular readers).    I’m having visions of storming out, all Jerry Maguire with the whole “These fish are coming with me!”

Okay, no I’m not really.  There will be no storming out.  I mean, for all my bitching and moaning, I have a good job.  That pays very well.  In the field of work that I have spent my entire career in.  It’s about as secure as jobs come, and I’ve been laid off before and it was scary (for, you know, the 2 weeks I was really and truly unemployed) and I’m not just going to up and walk out on this one.

But oh, how I want to.  Because this particular job at this particular moment in time is SUCKING THE LIFE OUT OF ME.

(No, I never have understood why my parents called me a Drama Queen.)

It’s my boss, who’s mostly a nice guy but somewhat annoying and with whom I certainly do NOT see eye-to-eye.  It’s my co-workers, who are really, really annoying.  It is all the various people I work on teams with, who don’t tell me what I need to know or tell me too late or think what I do is so damn easy.  It’s dealing with the same subjects over and over and over for 5 years and wondering how many different ways I can say, “We don’t know, exactly, but if we have some money we might try and figure it out.”  It is somehow being both bored and overworked at the same time. 

It’s the sting of not getting the other job, especially when the people who didn’t give me the other job keep talking publicly about how important it is to GROW people and give them new opportunities and RETAIN all the talent we have here!  It’s not seeing any opportunities for promotion potential and I’m sorry, but I can’t wait around forever especially when my boss has already said that it’s important that I “move around in my career.”

I come home from work exhausted.  I get tension headaches every damn day.  I stress eat.  I get snippy and sarcastic and take my frustration out on people who have nothing to do with it.  I find myself thinking things like that, “Hmm, Galveston, Texas.  I wonder what it’s like?  Would I like living there, even though the probability of getting bitch-slapped by a hurricane is pretty high?” 

I have my mid-year review coming up soon and I’m really not looking forward to it because 1) I’m going to cry and 2) I’m going to have to discuss my future.  Oh, and 3) I’m sure I’ll hear about all the stuff that I’m not doing.  Sigh. 

In the meantime?  It’s chocolate o’clock, y’all.

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It’s Nothing Personal, Harry Monday, Jul 16 2007

The local radio show I listen to in the mornings was all about Harry Potter this morning.  They were talking about the movies and the books and doing trivia contests and giving away tickets to see the latest movie in IMAX and going on and on and frankly, had I had the energy, I would have changed the station. 

Because seriously?  I could not care less about Harry-Freaking-Potter.  I haven’t seen the movies.  I read about 15 pages of the first book, back when everyone was reading the first book, and I was all, “What?  What’s the big deal?”

Frankly, it was not a surprise to me.  I just don’t do fantasy.  I wasn’t the little girl who loved fairy tales.  I wasn’t the elementary school student who devoured “The Phantom Tollbooth” or “A Wrinkle in Time.”  I vividly remember being bored out of my skull when teachers read “A Bridge to Terabithia” and “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” to our class.  It seemed like I suffered through multiple viewings of “The Neverending Story” and “The Dark Crystal” and it was supposed to be a big treat and I hated it so much.

And this aversion to fantasy was not one I ever grew out of.   I’ve only seen one of the “Star Wars” movies, and one “Star Trek” movie (and yes, I’m lumping most of the Sci-Fi genre in with fantasy because it’s my blog and I can).  I don’t know how much bribery it would take to get me to see one of those damn “Lord of the Rings” movies because aren’t they, like, 100 hours long?  Sometimes it seems like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t think “The Princess Bride” is the greatest movie ever made.  And while I once performed in a stage version of “The Wizard of Oz,” I’ve never had much interest in the movie.

Because I’ve felt like such a freak over the years, the lone voice of dissent, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why these movies and books bother me so much.  And when fantasy is acceptable and when it’s not.  I can handle elements of fantasy or science fiction, if the rest of the setting and characters remain rooted in some kind of reality that I can understand. 

For example, “Independence Day” — it was set in a place and time I could relate to, so I could deal with the whole “aliens attacking us” thing.  A stretch of the imagination, definitely, but I was okay with it.  The same with, say, the talking animals in “Charlotte’s Web,” especially because they never talked to the humans, only the other animals.  I’m generally pretty accepting of cartoons because, obviously, none of it is being passed off as “real.” 

I know, it’s a pretty fine line and if it makes me a stick in the mud, I don’t really care.  I’m probably going to end up falling head over heels in love with a “Lord of the Rings” nut one day and that will be my karmic punishment.  But until then, I would just like to say that I’m tired of hearing about Harry Potter and Hogwarts and Dumbledorf and could my radio show please go back to talking about something else?

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Some Open Letters Wednesday, Jul 11 2007

Dear “Leader” of our “Group” Project,

Thanks for ruining this for all of us, bud.  We’re going to look like the biggest bunch of fools ever and we’ve wasted an opportunity to make real changes.  You’re trying to fix what’s wrong with YOU, not what’s wrong with our organization.  Plus, you’re kind of a jerk.

No Love,

Noodle

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Dear Boss Man,

I’m not sure if you remember this, but about a year and a half ago, you moved from the Rocky Mountains to Southeastern Virginia.  Since you weren’t, you know, kidnapped, I assume you did this of your own free will.  You had to know the weather was going to be different here.  It’s July.  You’re in the South.  IT’S GOING TO BE HOT AND HUMID.  So please, please stop bitching about it.  We get it.  It’s too hot to do anything.  It’s too hot to be alive.  It’s so humid you can’t breathe.  Deal.  Or move.  Either way, please stop talking about it.

Sincerely,

Noodle (and Mother Nature)

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Dear Wrist,

I don’t know what I did to make you mad.  But you hurt.  Especially when I push doors open and hold stuff.  I promise I’ll buy one of those ugly wrist braces this afternoon.  Until then could you just, you know, stop hurting?

Thanks bunches,

Noodle

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Dear Co-Workers,

I have real work to do.  Plus, I’m trying to write a blog here.  Leave me alone, dammit.

Muchas gracias,

La Noodle-a

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Dear Starbucks,

Thank you for that wonderful beverage known as the Sugar-free Hazelnut Non-Fat Latte (herein known as the SFHNFL).  Even if it cost $20, I would still buy the SFHNFL on a regular basis.  Sometimes it’s the only reason I get out of bed in the morning.  Especially today it might save my sanity.  Long live the SFHNFL!

Yours forever and ever,

Noodle

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Dear Radio Station,

Thank you for playing ABBA this morning.  Seriously, I needed that.  Everyone needs a little ABBA now and then.  It allowed me to get my groove on and have a nice lil’ moment in the car before I trudged into work for another hellish day in the salt mines.  “Waterloo” or “Mama Mia” would have been better, but I’ll take what I can get and this morning it was “Dancing Queen.”

Rock on!

Noodle

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Dear Universe,

I would like something good to happen today.  Just one good thing.  Please. 

Pretty Please?

Noodle 

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Things That Have Annoyed Me Today Monday, Jul 9 2007

In no particular order…

1. The twitch in my right eyelid.
2. The ridiculously long-winded way my co-worker answers our main phone line.
3. My boss.
4. The Internet and web sites.  To be more specific, outdated project web sites.
5. A group that I’m working with on a big internal project.
6. The fact that my pants are a little too tight.
7. The weird-tasting Diet Coke from the cafeteria.
8. My disorganized, messy desk.
9. My non-existent willpower to resist mid-afternoon treats like Peanut M&Ms.
10. Did I mention the twitch?  In my right eyelid?  Twitching madly ALL AFTERNOON LONG?? 

It’s officially a Monday today.

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