I've been published

Finally, someone has recognized the genius of my work and published me. 

Update:  It did not occur to me that someone may think I was talking about myself.  No, I'm not Melissa.  I'm not trying to cleverly communicate anything to you other than the fact that UrbanDictionary.com allowed me to define a word that my friends and I started using while I was pregnant with Silas. 

For the gamer in my life

My husband is a gamer.  There, I said it.  I married a gamer.

Anyway, he's always trying to get me to play different video games with him, but I grew up with Nintendo consoles, and (this is not a slam to Nintendo at all - they will always be my #1) Nintendo games are usually far less complex than PlayStation games.

For instance, when I play Call of Duty (which for anyone who has not been blessed to live with a gamer is a game that basically entails hiding behind burned-out cars and shooting people), I inevitably wind up getting shot 436 times while I'm trying to figure out how to point my gun at whoever is shooting me (but I'm pulling the trigger, so I'm shooting walls and the ground and random passers-by and sometimes I end up waking the baby for venting my frustration at the game).

So, since I have clearly failed at playing his favorite game, Michael has been on the hunt to find a video game we can play together.  

This week, I have watched trailers and played demos like it's my job, but I have not been able to help but notice that none of what has been created for Sony's PlayStation takes me back to my childhood love of Mario and Luigi.
  

Until....

that creepy little doll walked in and won my heart and caused me to deem the creator of Little Big Planet (2 - Little Big Planet 2 was actually what I played) a genius.  

If you live with a gamer and you are video-game-playing-challenged but want to reach out to your gamer, YouTube Little Big Planet or Google it or just go buy it.  Not one time did I find myself trapped in a bombed-out building shooting a gun at a ceiling.  Not once.

My nemesis

Since about 7 o'clock Sunday evening, I have wanted nothing but my sweats and my bed and a cold rag and a Sprite.  I'll spare you the details, but it hasn't exactly been pretty at my house.  The good news is that I'm starting to feel better.

Because I have a job with a sort of "quota", I have chugged Pepto and come to work for the last two days (although I did leave early yesterday).  I've decided that this is also something a grown up would do and that I get to say I have completed step 4.

I gave myself bonus points because - can you imagine having to deal with this:

every time you try to print a document?  I know it will happen at least once, but most of the time it will be three times (and sometimes more).

All those red dots?  Places where paper has lodged itself into the tiny crevices of that machine.  Then, once all the paper is removed, the freaking covers must be closed in just the right order (like a combination lock) to get the damn thing to stop flashing and resume printing.

Before you ask, yes, there is somewhere else I can print.  It's just incredibly inconvenient, especially when I'm in a hurry, and now that the printer on my side of the office is the devil incarnate, the entire office is printing over there, which is a special little cluster unto itself.

We all on board?  I get step 4?  I thought so.

My day in pictures

Felt like doing this to a particularly cantankerous copy machine at work:

Felt like doing this to a co-worker:

Had a lunch date:

All better.

A good day

Yesterday was weird and not fantastic and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep it off.  Life has been exceedingly stressful of late (few of us are digging this economy, right?), and I was about one more sitting-on-the-side-of-the-road-waiting-for-my-car-to-relent-and-take-me-home kind of day away from a total breakdown.

When I finally did make it home, I unloaded all of my emotional baggage into Michael's lap and made him listen as I tore through the list of each and every thing that was weighing on me.

This morning, as he drove me to work, he remarked, "I think you're going to have a better day today."

Mostly because he knew that he was on his way to arrange these:

to arrive in my office some time before lunch with a giant card announcing a surprise getaway to a bed and breakfast.

Michael and I have never been on a trip together. We've started plans for trips many times, but other stuff always intervenes causing us to forego the trip and handle more pressing business.

Well, now there is a trip.  Booked.  And my fantastic mom/Silas' fantastic Nana will be keeping Silas.  And I have requested a day off work.  And I'm buying a new dress.  And I'm going to feel pretty in it, dammit.

He spent the morning ordering the flowers and having the card made and the rest of the day taking care of my car so that I don't have to have anymore sitting-on-the-side-of-the-road-waiting-for-my-car-to-relent-and-take-me-home kind of days.

Michael never just hears the words. He always listens for what they mean, pinpoints what I need and makes it happen. That is just one of the many reasons I adore him and would marry him a thousand more times if I could. 

Because I've seen at least a hundred people bitch about posting pictures of flowers on Facebook, I decided to dedicate a whole blog entry to my flowers and my card and my husband for sending them and booking the trip that made my day and may have possibly pulled me back from the brink of insanity.

Thank you, Michael, for all that you do as a husband and father, and thank you, God, for allowing me to find a man who goes out of his way to make sure that the good days in my life most certainly outnumber the bad ones.

I fell off the wagon

Today, Google (via healthline.com) has diagnosed me as having one of the following:

• Migraine (ruled it out because I have migraines occasionally, and this ain't no migraine)
• Heart attack
• Meningitis
• Poliomyelitis
• Subarachnoid Hemorrhage
• Aneurysm in the brain

And I had been doing such a fantastic job of avoiding self-diagnosis of deadly diseases.

My memory is worse than I thought

It has come to my attention that I am mis-remembering my early-20's, which isn't very surprising after the twenty minute conversation Michael and I had about my horrible memory yesterday.  It is now apparent to me that I have always lacked the ability to dress myself.  Please see the photograph below for evidence of this fact.

This outfit is what I wore to an awards ceremony my former law school threw at the end of a summer program it sponsors.  I had to speak at that ceremony.  The earrings speak volumes, don't they?  Also, that inch of stomach on display.  Classy touch.  

A friend of mine posted the picture on Facebook, and I could not stop staring at those earrings.  No wonder I quit accessorizing.  I was doing it very poorly.