cindy's world

I have 4 divorce files sitting on my desk bar that the judge has signed and is ready to be processed and finalized by me. As I rolled the date on my file stamp to today’s date, I realize that these people are going to be divorced on Valentine’s Day. Should I not process these things today, and do them tomorrow so that it wouldn’t be finalized on V-day? Or should I give them what they probably want, anyway, which is to be single for V-day?

Here’s a cameraphone photo of my V-day tulips sitting on the bar of my desk next to the divorce files.

…that there’s a finite amount of sexiness between couples. There’s this ball, this wad of sexy, and the two people can draw from it and divide it however they do. (This is probably why I’m h0tter when I’m single.) That being said, this post is a complaint that Mr. W is stealing all the sexiness that we share! 2 weeks of ailment, 2 weeks off from the gym, and my weight’s back up. Yup, I weighed myself this evening. I’m so upset. While I’m sitting there pouting about this fact, Mr. W found an opening to tell me that his size 34s are becoming hip huggers, and he’d just recently bought the 34 jeans (down from a 36). What the heck!! So now he’s all cut with these nice abs and yoke and stuff and I’m just this puffy mushy thing! If I gain another pound, standing together with Mr. W we’ll look like the number “10”, to quote Jay Mohr. Actually, I’m small, so we’ll look more like “lo.” “Lo and behold! See the most opposite looking couple in the world! He’s tall, she’s short; he’s light, she’s dark; he’s vertical, she’s spherical!” No matter what my lungs tell me tomorrow, I’m going back to the gym. I’m gonna bring some sexy back. So there!

Some inspiration from elsewhere in my blog…

Speaking of rays of light, I’m right now in touch with Diana, who’s emailing me on her Blackberry from Cabo where she’s vacationing with Jen at the Dreams Resort.

From Diana:
Como estas? Estamos muy bien. Esperamos que tu estas aqui tambien.

Diana and Jen at los cabos

Me:
I see you have BB service at Cabo, unlike at Cancun. And you took, uh, Spanish lessons? Glad you’re enjoying yourselves there! Bring pictures back with you!

Diana:
Yep-new bb has gsm but I have barely used it, which is good. Jen took spanish so she told me what to write. It’s beautiful here but different from cancun. We are leaving in a few hrs. I don’t want to go home!

Me:
haha, you never want to come home. But you have to be back in time for V-day! =) We miss you, and we want to hear how your trip went! We want photos! Now you have something to blog about. (Like how you didn’t miss the boyfriend.) How’s the tan? It rained this past weekend, and Mike says it was raining up north for a week.

Diana:
I know-these resorts are just too comfortable. I will definitely blog.

The tan is AMAzing. All w/o a sunburn because we were slathering on spf 50 all day long. Jen has the pix so I will have to remind her about uploading.

Me:
What color is the water????

Diana:
Dark blue, like hawaii.

Me:
Maybe I’ll blog for you, sort of. I’ll refer an update on your blog to my blog.

Diana:
Ok-that works. Say that this trip is really great and totally want I needed, but very different from cancun. 🙂

“Your desk area is like a florist’s shop,” my judge warned me as I stepped off the elevator. I walked in to work after a nice 3 days off to see tulips galore! Pretty powder pink, fuschia and ivory tulips filling and pouring out of 2 vases. A little note saying simply that Mr. W loves me. I’m giddy.

And then I saw this email from Vanessa. So heartwarming I thought I’d post it here. Hope you all smile as big as I did today!

“Going Postal”
Our dog Abbey died Aug. 23, and the day after Abbey died, my 4 yr. old,
Meredith, was SO upset. She wanted to write a letter to God so that God
would recognize Abbey in heaven. She told me what to write, and I did.

Then she put 2 pictures of Abbey in the envelope. We addressed it to God in
Heaven, put two stamps on it (because, as she said, it could be a long way
to heaven). We put our return address on it, and I let her put it in the
drop box at the post office that afternoon. She was absolutely sure that
letter would get to heaven, & I wasn’t about to disillusion her.

So on Labor Day, we took the kids to the museum in Austin, and when we came
home, there was a package wrapped in gold on our front porch. It was
addressed to Meredith so, she took it inside and opened it.

Inside was a book, “When Your Pet Dies” by Mr. Rogers (Fred Rogers).On the
front cover was the letter we had written to God, in its envelope (opened).
On the opposite page was one of the pictures of Abbey taped on the page. On
the back page was the other picture of Abbey, and this handwritten note on
pink paper:

“Dear Meredith,
I know that you will be happy to find out that Abbey arrived safely and
soundly in heaven. Having the pictures you sent to me was a big help! I
recognized Abbey right away!
You know, Meredith, she isn’t sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me (just
like it stays in your heart) young and running and playing.
Abbey loved being your dog, you know. Since we don’t need our bodies in
Heaven, I don’t have any pockets to keep things in– so I am sending you
your beautiful letter back with the pictures–so that you will have this
little memory book to keep.

One of my angels is taking care of this for me. I hope this little book will
help. Thank you for your beautiful letter. Thank your mother for sending it.
What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you.

God blesses you every day and remember, I love you very much. By the way, I
am in heaven and everywhere there is love.

Signed,
God, and one of his special angels (who wrote this letter after God told HER
the words).”

How wonderful is that! I never knew there were angels working the post
office!

me: btw, see jordan’s chat box
james: Hahahahahaha nice!
you totally flooded her chat box
me: well, YOU wouldn’t do it.
james: thats cuz im a chicken.
me: bok bok!
james: CockaDooddleDooo
me: chuggaluggachuggalugga
james: Chickens do not go Chugggalgugachugalugga!!!!
me: chooo choooooo!
james: bless you
me: cockadoodledoo sounds like “choo chooo!”
and what follows “choo chooooo” IS chuggaluggachuggalugga
james: people dont go “Cockadoodldoo” when they sneeze!
me: I didn’t sneeze!
james: you said Choo!! chooo!!!
me: I didn’t say AHchoo!
choo chooooooo!
james: buttttt you see
you are the owner of dodo.
dodo says “eow” instead of “meow”
so i figure like owner like kitty
you shoudl say “chooo” instead of “achooo”
me: okay, you ‘tard.
james: 🙂
me: i’m gonna blog this.
james: actually now that i think of it… cockadoodledoo does sound like a train whistle if you say it right
yea you should blog it … I was laughing so hard over most of this conversation
Sent at 11:07 PM on Monday
me: I didn’t even crack a smile. You’re so easily entertained.
james: sigh…
oh well i tried
damnit
now i keep saying chugachugachuga
this is all your fault.

4 years each in a University of California institution of higher learning, and we almost have our barnyard sounds down.

Today, while James and I were Zaino-ing our cars, he thought to ask me why I’m not at work today. “It’s a holiday,” I said nonchalantly, wiping away.
“What holiday?”
“President’s Day.”
“What?! We don’t have President’s Day off!”
I shrugged. “I have next Monday off, too.”
“WHAT? Why?!”
“Lincoln’s Birthday or something like that.”
“Why do you get Lincoln’s birthday off?! How does Lincoln’s birthday affect you?”
“Well, the face of the American coin would be very different if it weren’t for Lincoln.”
“Oh. I guess that’s true,” he said.

My car’s nice and shiny now. That’s a pretty productive day off, even if I had to stop doing Zaino work every 15 minutes to blow my nose, or wipe off fresh bird shit. It’s weird; there were no birds overhead, but yellow streaks of poo just kept appearing! And it was hard work pushing the overhead clouds away so that sunlight comes through to dry the coats of polish. (James is convinced I have powers to control the weather, so I blew the clouds away when he complained of being cold. I sounded like this: *huffing* “awhoo! awhoo awhoo awhoo awhoo!” He seemed pretty content with that.) After we were done, I looked up and saw clouds highlighted by the dropping sun and noticed that the outline was a perfect angel, complete with wings spread and a lit halo over her head. James snapped some photos. As soon as he emails them to me, I’ll post them.

*** Addendum: Got it! Thanks, James! Believe me, people, the sight was more amazing in person.

*** Addendum #2: My childhood friend Sandy called me this evening and reaffirmed my faith in karma and the balance of the universe. There IS a God! She TOTALLY made my day. What a surreal day! =)

I got this little gem on email from my jujitsu instructor:

DADDY’S GONNA EAT YOUR FINGERS ..
This one is for everyone who … a) has kids, b) had kids, c) was a kid, d) knows a kid, e) is going to have kids.

I was packing for my business trip and my three year old daughter was having a wonderful time playing on the bed. At one point she said, “Daddy, look at this,” and stuck out two of her fingers.

Trying to keep her entertained, I reached out and stuck her tiny fingers in my mouth and said, “Daddy’s gonna eat your fingers,” pretending to eat them.

Went back to packing, looked up again and my daughter was standing on the bed staring at her fingers with a devastated look on her face.

I said, “What’s wrong, honey?”

She replied, “What happened to my booger?”

It’s kinda neat that after a year and a half of being together, I look at Mr. W in his wifebeater and low-riding jeans retiling his shower wall, and I secretly check him out as I swirl tile glue on the backs of the tiles and hand them to him, and I smile at the way his traps shift on his back when he pushes against the wall, I want to press my tongue into the indentation of his tricep muscles, and I wish he were retiling the shower walls naked. Of course, I’m nothing to look at in my wet post-shower hair, a massive mound of fabric as my body disappears inside his big t-shirt and boxers. I guess this is the epitome of being comfortable together.

Yesterday, I told him as we walked from the Thai restaurant back to the car, that I look at him sometimes and smile, thinking how cute he is and how much I love him. He said he’s like that all the time when he thinks about me, and that when he thinks about me, he thinks about how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.

I told him that for Valentine’s Day, I don’t want to go out, I just want to be alone with him, curled up in blankets or bathrobes, watching romantic comedies on TV, eating a banana creme pie straight out of the tin.

Of course, if I can stop coughing and feeling like my lungs are compressing on their own whim, I may feel more like getting dressy and going out, or getting undressy and staying home. Stupid virus.

I just heard him cuss. I’d better go help again. =)

Mr. W said earlier over tom yum soup and yellow curry, “I’d like to go back to Thailand and see it again, now that I’m older, instead of just as a young kid out there…”
“…whoring?” I finished the sentence for him.
“Yeah.”

Instantly Mr. W and I were in Thailand, walking down a crowded village street in a marketplace type area. Out of nowhere, an older woman (and by older I mean Mr. W’s age) grabs his arm, staring wide-eyed into his face. “It’s you! You have returned!” she says breathlessly. He looks down at her, confused. “It’s me,” she says, and clucks some name in Thai.
“Oh! Hiiii!” Mr. W says with a tone in his voice that makes my heart catch in my throat. He breaks through the reverie and pushes me forward slightly. “This is my girlfriend,” he introduces.
The woman notices me for the first time and almost as an afterthought, drops her hand where it was still clutching Mr. W’s elbow. She nods at me, not meeting me in the eyes. “I go to market — I have to buy –” she points in a general direction, and without finishing her sentence, she trails off.
Mr. W stares after her, then tells me, “I’ll be right back,” and jogs to her. I watch, standing alone and scared on the streets of Thailand, as he exchanges some words with her quickly and then returns to me.
Later on in the hotel, he would be distant, seemingly lost in thought often. And when I call him on it, he’d say, “I’m sorry, remember the girl I told you I’d met in Thailand, and we became friends?”
“You mean the bar prostitute you used to hook up with?!” I’d spat.
His face would darken in anger as he defends her. “I told you, we were also friends and we would talk. Anyway, she’s in some kind of trouble or hardship or something, we didn’t really get into it. I’ll find out more –”
“You mean you’re going to meet up with her?!” I’d say, clutching the front of my own shirt as if to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest and splintering right there on the hotel room floor.

“I’d like to actually go see how the people live, and see the museums and the culture,” Mr. W was saying, spooning up another mouthful of lemongrass soup. I gasped internally, putting my fork down. If only he knew what was playing in my head with the simple line he’d thrown out there.

My supervisor got me to go to the doctor today, by telling me this:

0 – the number of people who died of pneumonia by going to the doctor.
0+x – the number of people who died of pneumonia by not going to the doctor.

I went to a different Kaiser facility at the advice of my court reporter, and that place was a blessing! I’m going there from now on.

20:20 – the time of my appointment (I was shocked I was able to GET a same-day appointment, considering I couldn’t at any of my other regular facilities).
0 – the number of people ahead of me in line when I went to check in for the appointment
2 – number of minutes spent waiting in the waiting room before I was called into the nurse’s station
100 – my systolic blood pressure (or whatever the larger # is)
57 – my diastolic blood pressure (or whatever the smaller # is)
58 – my pulse rate
128 – weight with a t-shirt, fleece sweatshirt, heavy jeans and tennis shoes on (woohoo! That means I’m like 124 nekkid! or maybe less!)
2 – number of minutes spent waiting for the doctor in the exam room

She figured I had a virus (like flu or cold) that ran its course in about a week, and then when I relapsed, it was because it became a bacterial infection in the upper respiratory area. She prescribed a round of antibiotics.

0 – number of people ahead of me in the pharmacy line downstairs
15-20 – number of minutes the pharmacist told me to wait for my prescription to be filled
8 – number of minutes actually spent waiting before the prescription was filled
40 – number of minutes spent at the Kaiser facility in all
10 – days of amoxicillin to take. This makes me slightly nervous, cuz the last time I took amoxicillin, I ended up with a yeast infection. 😛 Oh well, anything but this suffering! *cough cough*

P.S.
2 – the number of gallons of ice cream we just bought to celebrate my weight loss. har.