i am not

and for those of you who think that this, ahem, affliction of mine might have all the makings of a certain nine-month syndrome, please think again.

i have no intention of going down that path in the near future.

although it was lovely to have the bf send me a note hoping that the aforementioned preggie blues was not the case.

and i keep taking the pill. daily.

so there.

quease

"you know you didn't blog yesterday, don't you."

yes, yes, i know.

i stayed home from work yesterday; couldn't shake this nauseous feeling i've had all week. or, as the bf would say, "pukey."

perhaps a touch of stomach flu. maybe my body is finally catching up to my mind.

i've always said that i could think myself crazy, and this might just be the physical manifestation.

that said, my only answer is to think myself sane. think myself happy. it can be done, yes?

sigh.

aside from the sickness, yesterday was a delightful day. i met the bf for lunch. i took a nap. i had a spinach hazelnut salad from crema. i went to bed early. i woke up tired but refreshed.

sometimes i just need a me day.

thank you to everyone who wrote or called (epecially my friends, but especially my strangers) to express concern for my well-being. i am wonderful, thanks to you.

why

i have a lot on my mind.

usually i am okay at dealing with it, but lately i feel like i might be falling apart.

i wake up with a smile and tell myself that it is a new day, that i am young and vibrant and what do i have to be so stressed out about? i will myself to make it through the day without breaking.

i carry it with me. i carry it all with me. in my neck. and in my shoulders.

i feel like i hold my breath all day. all day.

and i wonder. my job is going fine. the bf and i have braved the turbulence and are now relaxing in the swells. my family is wonderful. i have my health.

and yet.

i have a nagging in my heart that will not go away, no matter how many times i tell it to be content.

to live in this moment, to remember these moments for now.

and that's when i realize that there is no one there to help me, because i don't know how to ask for help or what it is that will help me.

i just want to exhale.

broders

last night the bf and i had an impromptu date.

we went to broders, for the second time.

we called ahead and were seated within ten minutes by the time we arrived.

we sidled up to the bar and ordered a caprese salad (for him) and a spinach salad (for me).

i had a glass of barbera. it was musky. mmm.

my gnocchi di zucca was wonderful, as was his tagliatelle con pollo alla romagnola.

we always have such a great time at this pasta bar. the pasta is hearty and fulfilling. the wine prompts eye-closing and sighing. the ambiance is perfect. warm, with low lighting. enough people to notice, but not loud enough to be noticeable.

we chatted, scooted closer together. we smiled. the bf showed me my tricep. he showed me his tricep horsehoe.

we finished off dinner with a thumb war.

tied. 1-1.

rakku

i am an organizational freak. freak.org.

this morning i found what might be the greatest thing to happen to shoes since jessica simpson's line.

BEHOLD!



spin the wheel o shoes, vanna! it is magnificent. i need one. need.

it is clearly not within my budget. but for the sake of my peace of mind, just knowing that my lovely shoes will have a home, will make it worth it.

and then!

i will have room for these babies:



sigh. what a lovely day for shopping.

ice

every thursday, the bf plays hockey.

and on most thursdays, i go with him.

please try to picture me, as much as you have gathered from 198 posts, going to a hockey game. not only that, but i am usually alone in the stands.

with no one to pay attention to me.

i am the lone chump in the crowd. the bf told me a comment about my sitting up there alone, week after week: "she must be a girlfriend, only girlfriends come to watch." when the bf went for drinks with the boys after one game, they said, "last time she looked sooo bored!"

why am i the only sucker?

like, hockey is played in an ice rink! an arena of cold and freezing bleachers. i find solace in the warm bathroom, except i feel too weird about spending too much time in there because i might get the "what is she doing in there?!" pressing the button for hot water over and over again, that's what!

i always bring a blanket, but it doesn't help. i am by myself. shaking. for an hour and a half.

but for minutes, i admire the bf and his skating.

that one is like a figure skater gliding across the ice, obvious in his little yellow helmet with his little chicken legs.

faster and faster, speedy little devil racing across the ice.

i am struck by his grace and his balance. and he surprises me again by being so many things in one person. i cheer his goals. i moan his misses. i squeal when he assists. i yelp when he collides. that is my boyfriend out there.

and that is the only reason i freeze my ass off every week.

star-crossed

the bf is in new york for the evening.

dinner and drinks with the boys.

he will be back in the morning, but until then...

i have been listening to till the end of time by devotchka on repeat.

it is double sigh-worthy.

the last time i heard this song, the bf and i were dancing.

alone. in his room.

we (read: i) had been going through some trying times, and it was wearing on both of us.

we danced, and we held each other, and i wept.

i am not sure if he noticed.

but i didn't need him to -- i just wanted to be and forget about everything.

everything except dancing with the bf.

classic bf

if you knew the bf, you would know that he does not like body humor.

as in, the bf does not fart, vomit, or anything else of that category.

this morning, he could not get out of bed.

unusual.

he moaned, "i don't feeel good."

i asked him what was wrong.

and in his firmest, sleepiest, most like-a-ten-year-old-sounding voice, he mustered:

"i woke up in the middle of the night and thought i was going to puke!

warm

the only thing better than going to bed with the bf...

is not going to bed with the bf

...and waking up next to him.

zzz

the bf made me lasagna for our sexiversary last night.

it was fabulous. the red zinfandel wasn't bad either.

we fell into a heavy, wine-induced sleep.

what should have been a peaceful slumber was interrupted every two hours with:

[nudge] soph! you're snoring!

sorry babe, grumble grumble

[nudge] sophie! you're snoring again.

babe, i can't help it! whimper.

[nudge] change positions!

bf! i'm sorry..[roll over]

[nudge] sophie! you are snoring.

babe! i swear it wasn't me that time!

and indeed it wasn't.

it was him.

as if. but we really did have fun last night. had a nice long dinner while we watched in her shoes. in it, they quoted my favorite ee cummings poem: i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart).

which perfectly summed up the evening for me.

sack

dear bf,

here's to the day you finally got me in the sack.

happy anniversary!

let's do it.

with love,
sophie

fight

i asked him why he doesn't fight for me. fight for us.

he told me a long time ago that he wouldn't fight to keep someone who didn't want to be with him.

except sometimes i believe you have to fight for what you want.

if only to express how you feel.

he asked me why i never fight for him.

and i didn't how to respond, except that i feel like i have not had to fight to keep him.

in earlier days i always had to ask him to stay, and many times he would go.

these days, he is the one who lets me go.

perhaps he is easier to love than i am.

but we all knew that.

yell-o

right now i am yelling for the bf.

we have yelled at each other plenty this past weekend.

we fought for half the weekend.

a lot since he was in new york for half the weekend.

and not the same half.

it was saturday night. i went over to his place to get some.

i let myself in and slowly walked up the stairs.

i whispered his name until he heard me.

i climbed into bed, on top of him, and whispered, "babe, let's do it."

he moaned, "nooooo..." and rolled over.

i said, "but babe! i look hot tonight!"

this time, his no was more emphatic.

puzzled: "why are you so crabby?"

"why am i so crabby? because i just want to sleep and you won't even let me do that!"

i sat in the dark. wide-eyed.

blink. blink.

so i did what i always do in uncomfortable situations. i fled.

and yada yada....the story goes on but i'll spoil the ending for you.

we made up the next evening.

the end. another battle fought.

tonight i am just yelling for him because i want to ask him to microwave the heating pad i'm using.

best. boyfriend. ever.

when he's not yelling at me to get off him.

112

in a word: overrated.

first of all, we walk into the place and were dumbfounded.

where do i go?

instant irritation.

deep breath.

okay, walk to the back of the place, still no hostess stand.

we stop a server and ask.

the bartender/host helps.

he asks if we have a reservation even though clearly there were tables available.

we were seated at a table and i set aside my initial reaction.

we tried to embrace the atmosphere, the ever-increasing decibel level.

romantic? hell no.

we ordered fries. i have a thing about ordering fries at a nice restaurant. i cannot resist.

they are fabulous. the aioli is fabulous. the crab salad is good (read: i hate obvious cilantro flavors).

after trying to have a conversation, we stop.

we listen to the noise around us.

the pork tenderloin with sweet potato puree and roquefort butter arrives.

the steak tartare arrives.

we dig in. and with each bite i am less impressed.

the pork tenderloin was chewy, and the tartare looks like a raw hamburger patty.

gross!

irritation and heartburn settle in.

our christmas dinner, tainted by indigestion and frustration.

hot ticket in town my ass.

drive

went to the government center over lunch.

had to renew my driver's license.

my current was stolen, joke's on the stealer.

after waiting for twenty minutes, my c258 was auto-voice called.

everything went swimmingly. until the photo.

i cannot stop my head from tilting at an angle for any photo opportunity.

that's right.

i pose.

surprised? i should think not.

the "photographer" had me stand still.

i resisted.

he told me to keep my head straight ahead.

i whined.

he said to square my shoulders and lean up against the white board.

i grumbled.

it was torturous. i made him reshoot.

sigh [dramatic pause and wrist to forehead].

run

i feel little today.

i also feel grand. i feel like i woke up and decided that life doesn't have to be so hard.

capricorns make it more difficult than it has to be.

but my saggitarius side must have won out this morning.

because last night i dreamt i was a model.

a high fashion model.

and on this particular assignment, i was told to run for the camera, kicking my knees up to my chest.

i thought, i can do this. i can run like the dickens.

so i ran. in place. bringing my knees higher. and higher.

i am fabulous! i am a gazelle!

i heard a faraway voice, an evil hand pulling me into reality.

soph! what are you doing?

as i was coming out of my fantasy slumber, i realized that my knees were bent and i was still furiously marching.

each stomp pounded reality into my senses.

stomp. why is the ground suddenly so soft?

stomp. what is wrong with the fading set lights?

stomp. why am i actually laying down?

stomp. why is there a warm body next to me?

and the dream faded.

i should scold the bf for ruining my burgeoning modeling career.

i had it all and lost it in one night.

joy

i just read an article that was too close to my life, without actually being about me, in any way.

it took place in vienna, where a bride was asked if she would take her man's hand in marriage.

"no," she joked.

and the official immediately called off the wedding, making them wait two months before trying again, successfully.

that will learn her.

i can picture it now:

officials yelling, my mom crying, my dad trying to hold back giggles, my friends not knowing whether to laugh or cry, some doing both.

pure uproar. mass confusion.

and in the middle of it, me.

standing perfectly still. a quiet smirk.

"what? what did i say?"

blink. blink.

well

last night i had a post up for about 48 minutes.

it was a slim volume in the classic bf series, one that was infinitely hilarious to me.

but it was not to see the light of day for very long. the bf read it and immediately vetoed its existence.

i hope some of you were able to see it, but if not, the punchline:

me: "stop pointing your butt at me!"

the bf (in a sleepy murmur): "i can point my butt wherever i want."

i knew it wasn't as funny if i couldn't tell the whole story.

down with censorship!

day2day

ooh boy.

it's hard to get back into the swing of work after not for a week.

trying to get on top of things, catching up on emails, writing a creative brief.

handed off for review around 1pm.

whew. that felt good.

cracked my knuckles. set about tackling a more menial task.

...

when i found out that i had written the brief using the wrong template.

fabulous. i am just. that. good.

oh seven

happy new year!

oh seven will be the year for ME. just me.

i want to do things for myself, like find a life coach.

massages on a regular basis.

learn how to meditate.

kiss more, love more, in the moment more.

and stress less.

lucky seven, here i come.