Day 77 4/8/08 DIEt Coke

I just can’t drink like I used to. Beer, fine. Wine, fine. But, Diet Coke, not so fine anymore. For the past seven years every morning I would wake up, get ready for work and settle into the morning with a Diet Coke. It didn’t matter what, if anything, I was having for breakfast because my Diet Coke was my coffee and it went with everything. For the past week or so I’ve been unable to finish one measly can with breakfast. Perhaps I am getting sick and this is the worst sign of all. Perhaps I’m sadly growing out of my Diet Coke phase. It’s hard to see outside of this addiction because I’ve been “off the wagon” for over fifteen years. Many people argued with me that Diet Coke was gross and I was simply drinking it to avoid the calories of regular pop, but this was not the case at all. First of all, if you knew what I looked like you’d be well away that I don’t discriminate against food or shy away from calories. Secondly, having three sips of non diet pop makes me feel like I’ve just eaten an entire box of sugary sweets. I honestly enjoy the muted taste and accompanying strange refreshment of the diet beverage.
Disclaimer though, I enjoy diet coke over all sodas/pops and I don’t usually care for the diet variety of Pepsi products or any clear pops. So, I guess only time will tell is my diminished taste for diet coke is simply a fluke, a sign of maturity, or an indicator of a larger problem.

Day 76 4/7/08 FOUR

Four is the number of people I spoke with today, not including those I emailed. Four is the number including my husband and the other three were sales clerks. I ran out today for a quick errand and exchanged at max fifteen words with each clerk. So, not including my husband I spoke about forty five words, out loud, to people in the outside word today. Months ago I wouldn’t spoken more than forty five by the time my carpooler and I reached the end of my block. Preceding the Diet Coke incident, things are not looking up.

Day 75 4/4/08 Pasta, wine and caves oh my!

Happy 50^th to my good friend, Kelly! He embraced the black wrapping paper, the big “Over the Hill” buttons and the pimped out wheelchair. I on the other hand embraced my youth, my younger years, the wine and my Pasta Arrabiata. The guest list ranged from my husband and I (late twenties) all the way through to the guest of honor (Fifty)! The conversations ebbed and flowed like the wine and laughter was heard through the restaurant. The birthday boy received a serenade form the “little Italian with the mandolin” and we all got a private tour of the Stillwater caves. Even having spent all of my life within 25 mile radios of the Stillwater Historic Caves, I’ve never been on a tour. All these years walking down Main Street and dining in little side restaurant I’ve never once wandered into the caves. The tour was informative and at times scary, but overall very interesting. It was a good history lesson and a curiosity that I never knew I had been now answered.

Day 74 4/3/08 Batter up!

Just like in baseball life likes to throw a curveball every once and awhile. My memories took a sharp turn this afternoon, literally. I was driving down the street and there was a detour. Detours by nature are unexpected, but this one was especially surprising. I was routed off the main street back through my old neighborhood. A right, then a left and just up the block was the house I grew up in. Someone else lived there now. My friend no longer lives across the street, and my other friend moved away as well. When I drive by my house I feel like I’m ten years old again. Warm memories come rushing back to me. Vivid recollections bring me back to lazy summer days playing neighborhood games outside well into night without a care in the world. I reflect on the neighbors, and how gave out the best candy at Halloween. I think back to block parties and sleepovers. I wish I still lived in that house. I was ten again. It takes me but twenty seconds to drive down my block, but the turn of this day will stay with me forever.

Day 73 4/2/08 Back in the saddle

I am up. I am refreshed. The bed is made and it’s not even noon. I am getting back on the horse. I’ve caught up on all my emails (is it just me or can one spend hours and hours on email and the internet? It’s sickening and clearly addictive). I’ve gone through all my mail and paid the bills. I’ve done some housework and my blog is current. Now the only thing left to do today is fine a job. Luckily my progress will be interrupted by lunch with a good friend. She’ll be here in about an hour and who knows where the afternoon will take us. We’ll probably talk of recent events, books, life, love, and her. It’ll be a good afternoon. Tonight I have my writing group, so I hope to find time between the two to fit in some much needed job searching. . .

Day 72 4/1/08 April’s fool

Not one person tried to pull an April fool’s Day prank or joke on me. What a boring, boring day. Perhaps the joke was the six plus inches of snow that fell yesterday. Only in MN can we go from fifty degrees and sunny one day, to six inches of snow the next, and then right back to fifty degrees the day after. Apparently it’s environmentally possible, but I just don’t buy it. So the day was fine and we all underwent a deep thaw. Snow covered trees wept heavy snow tears throughout the day and the grass began to emerge. I spent the better part of the afternoon with my grandparents at the Dr.’s office (and I don’t mean my husband’s office), so maybe that joke was on me. I was glad to be able to help and grandpa got the ok to “get behind the wheel” again. In hindsight, many people and higher being did play some April Fools Day jokes, making me April’s fool.

Day 71 3/31/08 (Re)Tardy

I never run late. I always run early. I’ve always thought it rude and inconsiderate of people to consistently be late. I never wanted to be the person that ran late. However, in the past couple weeks there have been some incidents. Now, I fully understand and take responsibility for the fact that I’m not working. I understand that this alone should free up so much time that I am never late, for anything, ever. Why is this not the case then? How come I run between five and eight minutes late for 2 of my last nine or ten appoints? How is this humanly possible? I confessed my shame to a friend and she graciously replied, “don’t worry about it. Even when you’re not working you can keep yourself super busy and time can still get away from you.” How sweet. I hope it wasn’t empty understanding or sarcasm because it really is true. Working forces you to schedule yourself down to the minute. Not working gives to flexibility, day dreaming and skewed sense of time. I’m making a pact with myself to never be late again; working or not working. However, Steinbeck said it best with, “The best laid plans of men often go awry.” Not me Mr. Steinbeck, not today and not tomorrow.

Day 70 3/28/08 Dr. & Mrs.

I nervously gulped down my first margarita over an endless bowl of chips and salsa. Today was the day. My husband was in New York defending his honor, his life, and his doctoral dissertation. I knew how I wanted it to end; I just wasn’t sure how it was going to end. Among many other positive traits my husband is a brilliant man. I had no doubts that he could deliver his speech, articulately answer questions and work the crowd, but what would the board say. The past seven years of his life and career, and the next twenty seven of his life and career with in the hands of some committee. In the end they were capable and accepting hands, taking shape in the form on congratulatory handshakes. He breathes easier now, and so do I. Another drink, yes please.

I’ve politely asked that all subsequent mail be sent to Dr. and Mrs. Meyer! J

Day 69 3/27/08 Seminar

Tonight I attended a “Get Started in Freelance” seminar. It was a free seminar hosted by the University of Minnesota public library and the guest speaker was Sandra Rector. We entered the old, brick laden building to find a cozy table with crackers, cookies and juice. Wow, a free seminar and after dinner snack all for free . . . who needs a job? I can live like a queen. We settled into the corner nook of the library for Sandra’s hour long repartee about her career. She dolled out helpful advice some that surprised us, and some that we already knew. She told silly tales of tracking down leads and obnoxious interviews with famous people who you’d never expect to answer a door naked. We heard of the highs and heard of the lows and were left with a few basic thoughts, “Have no fear. Say what you have to say and say it. If someone doesn’t like it you’ll never have to hear from them again.” I think all of this is easier said than done, but in life, what isn’t. All in all it was time well spent and even better money well spent. I review her lessons from day to day and try to find my own voice, and push aside my own fear

Day 68 3/26/08 Ba Bye now

Two month old babies can’t wave or say goodbye. Babies at 5 months of age usually can’t wave or say goodbye, so why do we expect them to? Rather, why do their parents expect them to be able to wave and talk at premature ages? Have you ever been leaving a friend’s house or a gathering and as you walk out the door the parent takes their child’s limp hand in an attempt for make the baby wave goodbye to you? Have you been leaving and the parents hold their child in front of them puppetering their non-verbal child to say “ba bye?” I used to think this behavior was cute, now it scares me. For one, the baby is obviously disconnected to the exchange; only have recently discovered that they have a hand to wave. Secondly, it puts awkward pressure on the person leaving to reciprocate a noncommittal wave or baby talk good bye. Admittedly, I’ve done it myself with my niece and nephew, but why? Does it somehow reinforce a connection to the person leaving? Or does it force a connection to that person? Isn’t it just awkward? I mean, in retrospect, I’d rather see the child wave or say “ba bye” when they are able to do it on there own without a commandeering parent. It’s sweet in theory, but creepy in practice. So the verdict is in, this is one offense I don’t plan on re-committing.