This weekend is Bubba’s first hip-hop dance recital.
Wait, let’s just take a minute to digest that. A DeFazio kid, known to be among the whitest and spazziest in the land, is fucking KILLING IT in hip-hop dance.
OK, moving on.
I am beyond sad about missing his performance. His quiet little, “Can you come see it?” over the phone last night just about killed me dead. DEAD I SAY. Honestly, I’ve been battling a serious case of homesickness lately. Ed’s business trip last week took him to my hometown (or at least hometown-adjacentish area) and when he called to tell me where he had eaten and all the places he walked by I had to stop myself from bursting into tears. The final straw was last night while watching “House Hunters” and this (completely inane, ridiculous) couple was house hunting where I grew up and I started to miss Fremont. No one has ever “missed” Fremont. Something is clearly wrong with me. So in an effort to snap myself out of this funk I am focusing on things that make me happy. And hoping that by writing them down here I can look back and tell myself to shut up and get happy already for fuck’s sake. (Fun fact: “Get Happy Already for Fuck’s Sake” was the working title of the Partridge Family hit “Come On Get Happy”*)
- De-friending, hiding or un-following various people on social networking sites has improved my mood. The allure of the trainwreck or potential to mock has lost its appeal and I’m enjoying being connected to funny, smart people rather than constantly rolling my eyes at the idiocy of others. I know this isn’t a groundbreaking revelation: eliminate annoying influences, surround yourself with positive ones, and feel better. But man, I underestimated how much better I’d feel.
- Birthday festivities for Ed are under way, as are Easter weekend plans with a shitload of family – including Bubba – in town. Easter now holds a special place in my heart since we got engaged around that time of year. I’m having fun coming up with decor and menu ideas for the three separate gatherings we’re hosting. I WILL MAKE PINTEREST BOARDS COME TO LIFE! (Check back with me next week when enthusiasm has given way to panic.)
- Mad Men is back, bitches! As Megan Draper danced and sang her sexy little song in French for Don’s 40th birthday Ed looked at me and asked, “Why don’t you sing to me in French?” “Uh, because the only song I know is my school song and that’s all about Jesus.” Of course, now I’m thinking of dressing up in my completely hideous school uniform and singing “Coeur de Jesus” at his birthday party, but I’m pretty sure I’d never be able to look any of our friends in the eye ever again.
- In honor of what would have been Ed’s grandpa’s 95th birthday on March 17th and what would have been my grandpa’s 100th birthday on March 18th, we busted out the home winemaking kit my father-in-law gave us for Christmas to make our first batch. It’s like bathtub gin, but sanitary! We need to come up with a name; my inital suggestion of “Dear God, I Hope This Doesn’t Taste Like Ass” doesn’t fit well on a label. Any ideas? We’re making a Riesling, if that helps. I’m really hoping that Ed’s attention to detail in terms of sanitizing everything means you won’t be reading “Idiot Couple Poisons Selves, Loved Ones with Toxic Booze” in the paper. Can we also talk about how awesome it is that we have the means to make wine in the comfort and privacy of our home? No need to remain sober enough to drive to the store! No need for pants or shoes to wear while at the store!
- Last weekend we out to a lovely dinner to celebrate a friend’s birthday. We all realized that it was still early and decided to head out for a nightcap at one of the weirdest bars in town. Not a dive, really, but I feel like if I were ever going to be stabbed or have to break a bottle and use it in a fight, THIS would be the place. Anyway, our group was sitting at a table chatting when some dude marched on over and looked at me and said, “You look like that person on 30 Rock.” And then he walked away. That was it. I wasn’t wearing my glasses so I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean Tina Fey (plus I know I don’t actually look like her), and people do tell me I remind them of Kristen Schaal all the time so I’m betting he meant her. Or Tracy Morgan. Anyway, every time I think about that brief, random encounter I crack up.
So, that’s what has me smiling on this cold, gray day. Hope you’re all finding reasons to smile.
*This is not a fact. Please don’t sue me David Cassidy!
Ed is on day 3 of 4 of a business trip and I can feel myself sliding deeper into the madness that comes when one is listening for the telltale sounds of a murderer trying to break into the house.
Or maybe it’s only day 2. I don’t know anymore.
I haven’t been sleeping well with him gone. And before you all gag on the sweetness of our true looovvvee let me clarify that I a.) suffer from insomnia from time-to-time anyway, b.) HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO SLEEP DUE TO THE CONSTANT VIGILANCE REQUIRED BY MURDERER WATCH 2012 and c.) have allowed the dog to sleep on the bed with me and she is a bed hog and snores and also she likes to wake up to play at 3am.
So it should come as no surprise that after a sleepless night (or two) coupled with heading into work at 6:30am for a breakfast meeting (that would be two full hours before my day normally starts*) and then handling clients all day I burst into tears upon realizing it’s garbage day tomorrow and I need to drag everything to the curb. WOE.
I have, however, managed not to let my self-pity devolve into a “eat my feelings” situation so I’d say I’m still on top.
*This would not be a great time for any breeders to chime in with “Wait until you have kids”-type nonsense. I’m not having it. Get your own blog if you want to bitch about how tired you are.**
**I also fully acknowledge that shit’s not THAT bad around here but let me have this, OK?
Without completely violating my No Work Talk on the Blog policy, I want to tell you about something that happened to me last week. This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me, but for some reason it was more bothersome because it happened in a (theoretically) professional environment, rather than at the hands of an ex-boyfriend or family member.
I had a negative (but rational and proportionate I ASSURE YOU) response to something that was said to me. Rather than take my feedback at face value and try to resolve the situation at hand I was asked, not unkindly, if everything is OK at home, is there something going on, am I feeling OK, etc? Stopped JUST short of asking if I’m PMSing, basically. And while I get that a lot of people bring the personal into work or use home stuff as an excuse to act up I a.) never do that – if I need a personal day, I take one and b.) am insulted that my honest, professional reaction was treated as “Bitches be hormonal and crazy, amirite?” At the very least, there was zero acknowledgment that this was about work, nothing else. No attempt to find some common ground and resolution, just deflection of responsibility.
While this reaction was upsetting in itself, I figured out why it has stayed with me for so long:
- There is some inherent sexism at hand here, I think. A sort of “We need to calm the hysterical woman” vibe. I may be reading more into this, but maybe not.
- It is unsettling to work with or for someone who cannot take responsibility for his or her own words and actions – and when called on it – tries to turn it around and pin it on hypothetical marital or health problems or something other than the situation at hand.
- Who asks for feedback, and when given it, then asks, “What’s going on with you?” Someone who doesn’t actually value honesty, that’s who.
I’m sure part of the reason my reaction elicited such a response is because I’m quite the little Pollyanna glass-is-half-full go-getter at work (here is where people familiar with me in real life die from shock), but I’m also a practical problem-solver (or at least seeker of a solution) and blindly nodding and smiling agreeably isn’t practical. It’s being a suck-ass and that’s not who I am.
Don’t worry: I’m not so delusional as to think I’m the first person ever to experience this and YET I AM STILL AMAZED. So I guess the takeaway here is that while I am a pretty cynical person, I have still not lost my sense of wonder.
Hey, I forgot to tell you guys about Napa. It sucked.
It was fucking rad. Aside from the expected awesomeness of 1.) celebrating a dear friend’s birthday and 2.) WINE SO MUCH PRECIOUS WINE it was a fabulous getaway from chores and errands and the hassle of having to deal with ANYTHING because someone else dealt with all of your basic needs. Our hotel was fantastic (as was the place where our friends stayed – let me know if you want info on either location), and the fact that someone else was in charge of transportaion, feeding, and WINE just added to the perfection of the weekend.
An unexpected perk? We spent time with other couples who really LIKE each other. Finding shmoopy couples willing to wax rhapsodic about true love and whatever the fuck? Easy. But it’s pretty great – and weirdly rare – to find couples who are genuinely excited to be with each other. D& K, M &S: You are my heroes. And not just because you don’t judge me for my Matt Foley impressions.
Also? Acting like Matt Foley at Honig will not get you kicked out. Fun fact.
I ran a 5k last Saturday and didn’t die. Yes, I know people are currently training for serious shit like marathons and the Olympics but this was my first foray back into the wonderful world of running so it felt like kind of a big deal. My time wasn’t anything special – I was the last of our little group to cross the finish line – and I didn’t really train (which is so fucking stupid of me and it’s a miracle I didn’t hurt myself) but damn, I had fun. My sister-in-law and I were talking about how during the actual run you’re annoyed and sometimes a little achy or out of breath and then five minutes after it’s over we were all talking about signing up for another race. It could be short-term craziness or a weird endorphin-induced side effect but it did motivate me to start taking the time to run and have that quiet time for myself, guilt-free. And if that something is benefitting my health? Well, that’s a sweet bonus.
I feel like a huge dork for being so excited about this little accomplishment, but I’m also working on not letting my naturally self-depracating nature morph into telling myself that I don’t count. It’s really easy to do that (see the second sentence of this post for proof there), and it’s something I need to work on in my personal and professional lives. I’m expecting you all to hold me to this.