Grrr. Hiss. Spit.

I've not been writing lately not because I don't love you, but because Comcast has afforded me approximately two minutes of internet a day, and really, who doesn't consider Facebook more important than blogging?

Even now, I'm hoping this will post.  The tech comes out NEXT TUESDAY.  Until then, I'll try my best, and also make contorted faces every time I pass the office and cannot use the most important device in the office.

Balancing

I've been a little lost in translation because I've been trying to figure out what makes me feel like this...

The boy has joined a group that is, for lack of a better (or more current) word, a community organizing group.  He loves it.  He does, he does, he tells me at length every night about the group's plans and decisions, and he tells me about meeting all these new people who really seem to get him.

This, I think, is wonderful.  Too much time spent with ourselves is a bit soul-destroying.  I'm so happy, and dare I say, proud of him, for making this choice and being so happy.

The downside for me is that when he tells me his stories, it reminds me of times in my life when I had that sort of support.  I got my M.Ed. in counseling and in order to do that, I had to take a class in group therapy.  Until then, I had been been completely adverse to group therapy.  How could I trust a circle of strangers when I still make my friends jump through hoops before I could trust them?  But this class, and this mini-group therapy really helped.  I trusted that group.  It also reminds me of being the president of an animal rights group in law school, and how those meetings really inspired me.

I want the boy to do his damnded best in these groups.  And I think I need more interactions.

An Interruption In Service

Lost in thought, the kind that I've not decided tht I'll share.

Back soon.

Energy on HIGH

Just got home, and after working on some much-neglected emails and billing, the phone rang.  The boy!  Yay!  I chattered at him about my day.  He told me he woke up an hour ago.  I helpfully suggested that maybe a bender would put him to sleep.  He wisely shot down that idea.

What?  A bender doesn't seem like a good idea?  What is this world coming to?  What are we, nearing 40 years....

Damn.

Anyhoo, I guess that he should not be the first person I talk to when I get home, because I'm chock-full of news and stories and fun tidbits and plans for the rest of the week and ideas about fork-stabbings and much mocking of a singing cat.  The boy asks, "Are you manic?"  No, I tell him, this is actually my normal energy level after a full night of sleep and some good news at the courthouse. 

Needless to say, less than five minutes passed before he decided he needed to go brush his teeth.  (Bringing the sexy in this relationship, I tell ya!)

I think I need to go find a treadmill to dance on or a boxing man to slap around.  I'll be calmer later when you call back, baby.

Forgive Me?

I'm concerned because it's a billing cycle and my assistant isn't feeling well enough to do the work needed.  By work needed, I mean sending me the list of billable hours.

Also, honestly, I miss my boy.  I should think that by now I'd be over it, but I'm not.  I don't want to go there; he certainly doesn't want to come here, but I'm tired every morning of waking up, rolling over, and finding that I'm in bed alone again.

So tomorrow I will do everything in my power to distract myself:  work for clients, bill clients, file paperwork, harass Momma, and then come home and take a deep breath.

PS - Momma and Dad's anniversary is Thursday.  Forty-nine years.  Wow.

Photos

I'm currently looking through slideshows of the most recent pictures of the boy's kid.  I know I've not mentioned the kid before, because of privacy concerns and my ongoing desire to tread lightly around this subject.

I don't want to meet the boy's son until the boy and I have something permanent planned, but I love seeing his son grow up and become a child.  Not an infant, not a toddler, but an actual child.

Spooky.

As he gets older, he looks more and more like the boy.  I can see a whole lot of ladies with broken hearts in the future, and therefore I hope the kid has the same values as the boy.  OK, OK, not all of them, but the fundamental ones I do wish for him.

So, It's Monday

...and I owe you a post, so in between writing emails to opposing counsel and researching new laptops, let me tell you about my day.

Aside:  When I went shopping with pseudo-niece last week, I opened the doors for her to go in first.  This is important only because it meant that the shopkeepers saw a teenaged girl enter their stores, and the disappointment on their faces were clearly visible.  Until I walked in, looking to the world like her mother.

Aside aside:  Sweet holy evil!  I am legitimately old enough to be her mother.  This seriously skeeves me out.

Back to the initial aside:  The relief on the shopkeepers' faces was amazing to watch when I entered the stores.  Like, "Here's the money lady!"  I guess I never noticed when I was a teenager that the clerks were never happy to see me alone or with friends.

Anyhoo:  I'm thinking about what opposing counsel's going to say to my client's requests.  I'm thinking about how fun it will be to have a new laptop, and what a royal pain it will be to transfer data from TWO machines to the new one.  I'm thinking that maybe Momma will buy me an external hard drive to make this easier and faster.  I'm thinking about a wireless router so I can be online while I watch TV.

I'm thinking I need to take a shower and take the garbage out.  Yes, another day in the life of a high-powered attorney.