Dear daughter

Since the moment I saw that second blue line in August 2014, I've had the thought, what if I only get 3 years with her?  Usually I don't let my brain sit with that thought for long and I move on, move past, think of something else.  But it comes back.  Not all the time, but sometimes.  What if I only get 3 years with her.  That's all my mother got with me.  

Since that day in June 1986, I felt sorry for myself.  Felt sad that I was the girl without the mother.  As I grew up I learned how to avoid thinking about it.  But it comes back.  When it does, I don't let my heart feel that way for long and I move on, move past, think of something else.  

On that evening in May 2015, I started to change.  I stopped thinking only about what I had lost as a child and began to realize how much she missed as a mother.  It didn't occur to me as a girl or a young woman how much she would have wanted to be there.  I think of it now, though.  And now that I'm getting to that third year as a mother, I am finding it harder to think of something else.  What if I only get 3 years with her? 

All I want out of this life, is to see my girls grow up to be happy, in whatever way they choose to be.  I don't just them to grow up, I want to be there to see it.  I want more than 3 years.  

Singlest Shopping Cart Ever

Expensive bread
Soy Ice Cream
Fizzy Water
Cat Food

Survivor's Guilt

Why was it him and not me? Will I be next?

Irony?

Yesterday, my boss and I were pulled into a meeting with some very serious people who make a lot of money and are very good at what they do. The most serious and most Irish of these people informed us several times that we were under a non-disclosure agreement. We frowned and nodded seriously. We asked some serious questions. We dreaded the next morning.

Morning came, as it tends to do. I told two of my temps that their assignments would be ended early. No, they weren't fired: Due to the Global Economic Situation, the company is making some changes and they were impacted. I hate euphemisms, but I used this one, because I had nothing else to say. We were lucky, though, my temps got to finish out the week. I stood next to a grown man in the elevator who couldn't hold back a sob. I assumed that today was his last day. I stared straight ahead because I didn't know what else to do.

At 5 o'clock, the exodus was obvious. 3 of the 5 in of us in the elevator were leaving for the last time: one man and two women. The women seemed unnaturally happy. Perhaps they smiled to avoid making the rest of us feel sad, guilty, awkward; perhaps they got a great severance package. In the lobby, coworkers (well, former coworkers) embraced. A pile of boxes sat on the polished marble floor, across the foyer from the Christmas trees atop fake snow.

I stepped outside, forcing myself to go to the gym. Maybe the endorphins would improve this day. I pulled my coat in close and walked quickly down Park Avenue, closed in the west-bound direction to make room for the rides of the annual Christmas Carnival. I continued towards the 30-foot Christmas tree and the booths and the music. And then there it was: Bing Crosby, singing a Christmas song written by a Jew: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

It's been a while

But tonight I got to tell someone that it was me, not him. I kind of feel like a jerk, but really, it's best that I don't continue to waste his time and money.

The Gays

Robby: Right now my friends on Yahoo! Messenger are in 4 categories: Kentuky Gays, California Gays, US Gays, Global Gays.
Me: Where do the breeders fit in?
Robby: Oh, I don't talk to them

Robby Says

"I'm not sure about this whole internet dating thing. I mean, it's OK to find sex on the internet, but I'm not down with the finding the love of your life on the internet."