Steal These, And I'll Be Quite Angry With You

GPOM and I spent the afternoon talking and dreaming and planning, and then we came to names for kids.  I don't know if I can have or want kids, but who doesn't want to dream?

My initial dream names:
Miranda Alexis
Robert Thomas

GPOM's opinion was that Miranda was from Miranda Sex Garden (the band) which is was, and that Alexis is a name from the 80s.  (It's not, it's from a good friend from high school.)  So OK, that's out.  After arguments about Greek and Italian names, we finally decided on a name for a girl: Catherine.  Called Cate, not at all Cathy.  I like it.  Middle name to be determined.  (Hell, it's better than Siobhan Hurricane, don't you think?  That's a stupid name.)

The boy's name I always dreamed of is Robert Thomas.  Robert from The Cure.  Thomas because my brother raised me.  Funnily enough, the argument was much easier here.  GPOM's first name is the name I've chosen, so we decided on Robert Thomas Henry.  That dignifies both our families.

Here's hoping!

Free Transvestite Dating

Glorious.  These are now the comments I get.  I mean, who doesn't love funny spam?

Me. Tonight.  Because I feel like I've been run through the wringer (hey, 1900, I'm talking to you) and apparently illness means that I have absolutely no sense of humor.

Napping helped.  Having to sign away my civil liberties to get some damn psuedoephedrine did not.  (Thanks lots, meth heads!  Enjoy gumming your food!)

I promise to come back with wit and cunning and more interesting stories.  Right now, I'm just hoping my head doesn't explode.

Quick Quiz Time!

I might have mentioned that GPOM is a foodie.  If I haven't, then clearly I need some sort of professional help, because not even one day goes by without some conversation about food he's had, is having, or is about to make.  And thank Christmas, because learning how to make a burrito in the oven rather than the microwave is stretching my culinary brains to places that involve...a whole lot of use of the trash can.

So is it any surprise that I asked him if he wanted to try out for Top Chef?  We talked of it briefly over the weekend, and I just remembered rightnow (thanks, Facebook!) so I looked up the application.  It's about ten pages of questions and fifteen of legalese, so clearly I felt comfortable.  But there were, let's say, Quickfire Questions, ones that I wrote down to ask him, but can't seem to stop myself from answering for myself here.

Ready?  Let's go!

1.  Create a culinary interpretation of the lyric of "Five Golden Rings" from the song "Twelve Days of Christmas".
     I'm thinking of something served on one of those paper plates that separates the foods so that incredibly picky eaters like myself can play with the grownups too.

2.  Create a dish inspired by the color blue.
     Yeah yeah seafood yeah yeah.  How about some Jell-O?  Everyone loves Jell-O!  Maybe some Knox Blox even?

3.  Recreate meatloaf into a gourmet dish.
     You should know that I initially typed "meatloaf" as "meatload".  I believe that question has been answered.

4.  Describe yourself in one word.
     Moody.

5.  How would someone else describe you in one word?
     Moody.

6.  What would someone close to you describe as your best and worst traits?
     Loyalty and neediness.

7.  Describe your most embarrassing moment.
     This question requires that I rank my many and varying humiliations, and I decline to do so.  I did have a tough day with a lady problem in junior high.  I think you know what I mean.

8.  Odd fact or talent?
     My ability to tell the internet my life story?  Sheesh, I don't know.  I can write in mirror writing; how's that?

9.  Favorite TV shows, movies, magazines, and books?
     TV show: The entire Bravo network family of programming.
     Movies:  Boring question.  I did like Quills.
     Magazines:  I currently subscribe to O and Glamour, so I guess they count.
     Books:  I read incessantly.  I read crap and literature and short stories and trade magazines when they're all I've got.  It's hard to pick favorites.

There you go!  A little more about your favorite _____________________.

August 11, 2009

I keep all sorts of things.  Notes, letters, CDs, the occasional stack of coupons I'll never use, and text and picture messages on my phone.  One of life's great unfairnesses for me is that I can only keep thirty incoming texts while I can save two hundred outgoing messages.  Why would I want to save messages I've sent?

Anyhoo...

I took a little trip down text message memory lane this afternoon and discovered that my first-ever text from GPOM was on July 28, 2008, the night before I started the bar exam.  It said that he'd gotten a callback for a play and that this good news meant that I was due a good sign as well.  I couldn't answer - I didn't know how to text back then, but I thought it was sweet and funny and very telling that his good news somehow meant mine was coming.

Years and text upon text upon picture message later - this is how we got reacquainted, as the three-thousand-mile distance made it tricky to date traditionally, we got closer and more involved.  I kinda thought he might be the one - at least, I was making a strong emotional argument to myself that this was meant to be - until I got a text from him on August 11, 2009.  By then I was thinking of visiting him and planning my trip and getting all excited.  But this was a calming text, and this was the exact day that I knew that I wanted to be with him forever.

Ready for the missive that set this whole thing in motion?

"Cool! Want nething frm the sto?"

I knew that for the rest of my life, I could look forward to notes like those.  And I fell, completely.

A Case Of First Impression

I'll admit it - I've never practiced in juvenile court before, and I'm learning that the standards are different.  I'm also learning not to race to judgment, pity, or any of the other gut feelings that make me feel powerful and then make me miss the point.  If I can just shut up and listen to what's being said to me, I can provide much better advice than what lives in my own meandering experience.

So for the past few weeks, I've had time to run through the gamut of feelings and impressions about a recent case.  I've had time to get input from others who are either directly, indirectly, or not at all involved with with the situation.  And I've finally given myself time - this involves not thinking at all - to determine my own response.  I'm feeling positive about chances, and I'm planning a day that will be unexpected to all involved.

Good thing I finally figured it out, since the hearing's tomorrow.

Valentine

OK - let's have a talk.  I might have told you that last year, I got nothing from GPOM for Valentine's Day.  I knew that he didn't have any freedom to give me a gift, so I asked for story and/or for him to read to me the most romantic poetry I knew.  I got none of the sort.

Instead, I got a quiet night alone and a late-night phone call about how amazing he thought I was, and what he had done to prove it.  (I save that message still.)

Today I checked my mailbox twice, to find a card in a handwriting I didn't recognize.  It was GPOM's mom, who sent me a sweet, kind Valentine's card to tell me that she was glad to have me in her life.  I talked to GPOM's folks about all that's been happening, and I finally realized that they love me beyond GPOM.

GPOM called, and has a miserable cold, but managed to tell me that he loves me not one, not two, but three times in a five-minute conversation.

I love you too, honey.  Take care of you so we can take care of each other.

Ice Day

I am a very tough woman, in that I'm not afraid to face my fears or even opposing counsel. 

(Shut up.  I am tough!)

Today I got on the road to get to gettin' (miss you, Niecy Nash) and got just around the local ill-placed roundabout and realized that even without my foot on the gas, I was moving.  Not at all in the direction I intended, but moving.  I made it just over a bridge, not at all by my own volition, and then decided to head back home.

I've done my snow driving, many, many times, but ice is a whole new world of un-driving.  It was interesting to blithely glide back home, hoping that my light taps at the wheel would guide me.  Still, I hope to not have to do that again anytime soon.

I Hate To Get All Political...

Last night GPOM and I started the discussion of timing of children for us.  Needless to say, that was a tough and interesting talk and thank goodness only the first of many.

Today, I ran across this.

It reminded me of how much time I've had to spend, as an uninsured woman, getting my Depo shots from the local clinic.  Each time I walked toward that place, there were abortion protesters.  People dressed in Victorian dress, blocking me from walking on the sidewalk, yelling, "You don't have to kill your baby!"

I was there to prevent said baby.

I'll be honest - going there would set my nerves on fire, and it would take me ten to fifteen moments to calm down long enough to hold a pen.  It was that bad - my hands would shake so badly that I couldn't even sign in for my BIRTH CONTROL appointment.

A "representative" who says such things must clearly know nothing about being a woman, about choices, about spur-of-the-moments decisions...wow, my brain is all over the place with things I want to say.

But I want to say this: You, you, and especially YOU have no right to decide what's best for me or my family.  If this bill passes, I'm interested in a letter-writing campaign about chemical castration.

Sound fair?

Omigod I Want Ice Cream

You know, you spend a little time on The Impulsive Buy, you're going to end up with a review of ice cream.  Sweet, delicious, good in a cup or cone ice cream.  Silky, smooth to the throat ice cream.

I have some in my freezer right now.  It's that slow churned kind, so I can have a bowl AND chocolate syrup on top and not feel guilty.  Well, not too guilty.

Speaking of guilt, I made a client cry today.

Back to the ice cream.  I know it's getting colder outside again, and it's rainy, and I'll probably have to defrost my car in the morning before I can leave, but I really do think I should eat some ice cream.  I mean, my throat hurts, and what's more soothing than ice cream?  Especially French Silk ice cream with chocolate syrup?  Nothing, I'll tell you.  Nothing.