*This is a continuation of Friday, Dec. 5, 1997. Part one can be found here.*
Throughout
the rest of the evening, she noticed that Mister Coffee Shop would
catch her eye, which wasn’t all that hard since she seemed to be staring
at him whenever she wasn’t working. He would offer to help her and even
invited her to sit next to him on the couch where there were a few
people congregating to chat.
She cautiously accepted his help
and his invite. Her mother had warned her about guys like him. Really good looking guys who
want nothing more than another notch in their belt. He already had a
gaggle of women around him and wanted to prove he could get one more.
Well. She knew better than to fall for that old trick. Her mother raised
her up right. A man needs to be a gentleman and do all the asking,
paying, and even calling, just like Mr. W. did. She was never to take
the number of a guy unless he took hers, first, and she certainly wasn’t
to be the first one to actually call him because she was not a floozy.
As
the party wound to an end, she was going to catch a ride with her friend, the one who ran the coffee shop, to her car which she had left at work. Mister Coffee Shop saw her getting ready to
go and went to the door to say good-bye. And then he hugged her.
She
couldn’t believe what just happened. It’d never happen to her before-
getting hugged by a virtual stranger, and a guy at that. Was he some
sort of pervert like her mother warned her about?
As she was
debating how to handle the situation- either hold on tightly while
inhaling his intoxicating scent, or wrangle him into a headlock and punch him in the throat like her
daddy taught her- he told her and her friend that he and his roommate
were going to Bennigans and asked if they’d like to join them.
Bennigans.
That den of sin. She’d never been to Bennigans. Never been out this
late and away from home, actually. She had lived a very sheltered life
and had no idea what the heck was going on tonight. A hug from a
stranger. A call from her coworker who wanted to “just talk” to her. Did
her Chucks somehow turn into glass slippers without her knowing it?
Since her friend had a crush on his roommate, they agreed to go out with the guys and, in doing so, ventured for the first time into this unknown
world of college people “hanging out.”
But first she had to call her mother.
She
was afraid her mom wouldn’t let her go….or at least she was counting on
it. That way she didn’t have to make a fool of herself in front of
Mister Coffee Shop. However, to her surprise (and dismay), her mom was
happy for her and told her it was ok…but had she called Mr. W. first and
shouldn’t she call him back like she said she would?
Dude. Another
strange event for the evening. Her very strict mother not only allowing
her to go out with others- and boys at that!- but also encouraging her
to call another guy? What was this world coming to?
All four of
them ended up driving together in her friend’s car. She and Mister
Coffee Shop were in the back so her friend could try and make time with
his roommate. They arrived at Bennigans where she knew the true test of the
evening was to come. Would he buy her something to eat or drink?
He asked what she was going to order and she, ever so awkwardly, asked, “Why? Are you buying?”
“Oh no,” he replied. “I only buy fine girls something.”
Her heart sank and her self-consciousness flared as she nervously tucked her hair back into its messy bun.
“Soo….I’m not “fine” then, huh?" she awkwardly giggled, hoping it sounded like confident, playful banter instead of the nervous, hurt feelings it truly was.
“Oh
no. You’re waaay below,” was the heart-ripping reply as he smirked and
gestured with his hand below the table to further illustrate how
repulsed he was by her.
She was crushed.
After ordering a
pineapple juice and sitting back, waiting out the time for this
tortuous night to end, he kept trying to engage her in conversation and
then he did something that made her completely speechless. He took her
juice and drank from it.
THE NERVE!! Now she had his arrogant cooties
on her juice, which she bought with her own non “fine” money. UGH. She
knew she should have punched him in the throat when she had the chance!
He
playfully laughed and continued to chat with her, as if his amazing
smile and gorgeous eyes and charming laugh could make her forget that he
was a big meanie who owed her $2.50 for the pineapple juice. A really,
really cute meanie who had asked her, and not the blonde bimbos, to join
him tonight. She just didn’t know how to read this guy.
They
all got back into the car and were driving back to the BSU to drop the
guys off. She had finally taken her hair down and put her black
scrunchie on her wrist and was looking out the window.
“What’s this?” he asked as he snapped the scrunchie on her wrist.
After
informing him it was called a “scrunchie” he proceeded to try to take
it off her hand and said, “A scratchie, huh? That’s a funny name.”
“No. A scrunch-ie,” she corrected him as she tried to get both her hand and her stylish accessory back away from him.
“I like scratchie!” he said as he pulled on it again.
They
went back and forth like this- he trying to take it off her, she not
letting some guy win a wrestling match- she would make her dad proud-
until he stretched the scrunchie over his hand and then let his hand
fall. It didn’t escape her notice that his hand landed on hers. Though
he didn’t take her hand…they just both openly ignored the fact that they
were kinda-sorta-not really holding hands for a good portion of the
ride.
He started the conversation back up and asked if she had a nickname. She told him
her family called her Dean. He wrinkled his nose saying, “That’s a man’s
name- much too masculine for you. It’s kind of a tradition to take the
first two letters of someone’s name and double it for a nickname- I
think I’ll call you Gege.”
Gege? What a silly name. That’d never
catch on. But, she didn’t mind if he called her that- it would be his
special name for her and nobody else would ever know.
He
eventually started doodling smiley faces on the foggy winter window.
She followed his lead and doodled a smiley face on her window, as well.
Then it became some sort of weird, foggy window doodling competition
where the smiley faces eventually turned to frowny, ugly faces. And then, he went
for the jugular.
GEGE STINKS was his next addition to the competition.
Horrified that she truly had forgotten her deodorant that morning, and that he thought she was both ugly AND smelled bad, she retorted with MR COFFEE SHOP IS A FRUITY FLAMER.
That'd show him. The jerk. She knew how to hit below the belt, too, though she didn't know how to stop when she was ahead.
Once
back at the BSU, she was surprised when he offered to drive her back to
work- so her friend didn’t have to go out of her way, he said. Even
though it was agreed that she would stay the night at her friend’s house that night since she had to work early the next morning (she had called
her mom to get permission at Bennigans), she agreed to let him drive
her.
He took her to her car and then noted that she worked
directly across the street from where he lived. Both buildings were just
off of campus and were both renovated frat houses. His house was owned
by his church and rented to several guys who attended the University.
IT’S A SIGN! She thought. We are destined to be true loves forever and ever!!! Though, out loud she said, “That’s cool.”
He then asked her if she could reach in the glove box- there was a pad of paper and a pen in there.
This is it, she thought. He’s going to ask me for my number!
Instead, however, he gave her his number. She jotted it down and then kept the paper out, pen at the ready to write down her number once he asked. Then, her heart sank when, instead of her number, he asked her to put the pen and paper back in the glove box.
Yep. He was definitely one of those guys her mother warned her about.
She
got out of his car and, when he had disappeared across the street, she
crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside. Her mother raised her right.
If he didn’t ask her for her number and pursue her, then he didn’t
deserve her.
Mr. W. had pursued her. Mr. W. had called her. She
still had a huge crush on Mr. W. and so she’d give him a call later, as
she said she would.
And with that, Mister Coffee Shop was out of her life....
(Part Three of this tale can be found here.)
Monday, January 7, 2013
Fifteen Years Ago....Part Two: The Christmas Party
Part One found here.
* Note: I didn't realize just how long this part of the story was when I started typing it, so I've broken it down into smaller, readable chunks for y'all, thus the double posting tonight.*
Fifteen Years (and one month, and one day) ago: Friday, December 5, 1997
The morning of the Baptist Student Union Christmas party came. She was neurotically nervous- would he come? Would her cheesecakes come out ok? Should she have practiced making them one more time before the big day? Would he come? Would he remember her? What should she wear? Did she put on deodorant this morning? Would he come???
She spent all afternoon in the BSU kitchen preparing the food for the party and, when the party started, she had given up all hope of wearing anything 1950’s related. Her black and white nylon jogging pants, blue hoodie, and classic black Chuck Taylors would have to do. Hey- they wore Chucks in the 50’s, right? And women were known and expected to work in the kitchen back then, so…..she was ready to roll. All she needed were some pearls, but perhaps the blobs of flour and cheese on her shirt would be mistaken for a necklace if she stood at just the right angle. Besides, he probably wouldn’t come anyway and she had nobody to impress so what did it matter?
Since she was in charge of the food, she spent most of the time in the kitchen, scurrying here and there making sure everything was working well. Truth be told, hiding out in the kitchen also gave her an excuse to not have to interact with such a large crowd all evening. She was nervous enough without throwing in a social faux pas or five into the mix. She would peek her head out the kitchen door or serving window from time to time just to see if he had arrived, but the time slowly passed and still there was no black leather wearing Fonzie wannabe in the crowd.
About an hour into the party, she was in the middle of the kitchen and was giving instructions to the other kitchen helpers who had just propped open the door to either take out or return some serving trays. As she turned toward the door in the middle of giving an order, she noticed someone standing at the entrance wearing a black leather coat and the world’s brightest smile. He came. And he was smiling at HER.
She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth slowly returning the smile as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. He waved. She waved back and shyly walked over to him.
She told him she was surprised he came since it was so late already. Her mouth’s ability to just spew out words while completely bypassing her brain seemed to amuse him. He was sorry he was late- he and his roommate ran into some difficulty or other but he was glad to see her and couldn’t wait to try her cheesecake.
She was flattered he remembered and was telling him how busy she had been in the kitchen and was going to go on and on and on with random details since she was so nervous and couldn’t really stop her mouth once it began. Luckily, at that moment she was interrupted by one of the other volunteers who said they needed her in the kitchen. She told him she had to go, feeling pleased to be so important in front of him and went back into her safety zone. Once inside, she briefly turned back to the still open door to wave to him when her heart sank to the bottom of her Chuck Taylors. In just the 2 seconds it took her to walk away, he was swarmed by 5 other girls, all of whom he seemed to know and with whom he seemed to be pleased to spend time.
Ah well, she thought. She knew it was just a foolish dream since she obviously wasn’t his type. By the look of his new harem outside, he liked blondes. Tall ones who twittered and laughed stupidly at anything he said. They were probably as dumb as they sounded and if he liked such high maintenance bimbos, then he wasn’t worth her time. Not that she was bitter or anything.
As the party progressed, she resolutely told herself to not shove a cheesecake into the face of that one tall bimbo who kept hovering all over him, playing some stupid game of “splash each other with a cup of water” who would then stupidly squeal in mock annoyance when she got wet.
No. Our busy little bee would simply take the serving tray to the table and then pretend she didn’t see him as he dodged a playful hug from Tall Bimbo and instead came up to the table and asked if he could help with the tray.
Harumph, she thought. Just what kind of game was he playing?
As she was going back to the kitchen, someone came up to tell her that her mom was on the phone. Since this was 1997 and cellphones were just starting to not look like shoeboxes anymore, that meant her mom had called the BSU and she didn’t know whether to be super embarrassed that her mom was checking in on her, or to be worried that there was a family emergency. Knowing her mom, it was the former and Mommy Dearest would now have to die.
When she got to the phone, she tried to play it off like her mom was some sort of loony and did crazy stuff like this all the time. Her mom asked, “How’s it going?” as if small talk was what was needed at this moment. “Well, uh, I knew you were going to stay out late, but I had to tell you that someone called for you and wanted you to call them back tonight.” It had better be Angela Lansbury herself to warrant such an interruption to a major social event!
“It’s Mr. W.”
What the what?! Why would Mr. W. be calling her? Did he need her to take a shift at work for him or something? Of course her mother knew about her ginormous crush on Mr. W. and was so excited that he called that she just had to tell her the good news right away. She jotted down his number and then thought it wouldn’t hurt to call him right now. Since she was scheduled to work bright and early the next day, she couldn’t fill in for him at work and should let him know as soon as possible.
So she called him.
After telling him who she was and that she was returning his call, he asked what she was up to and seemed to take forever to get to the point of asking her about work. She let him know she was at a Christmas party, so what did he want?
“Oh nothing. I just wanted to talk to you. Thanks for calling me back!”
What? Did she inhale too many fumes from the kitchen? Why would he call “just to talk?”
After recovering from her shock, she asked if she could call him back later since she was, you know, at a party right now and couldn’t really talk and thought he needed to ask something about work, so….
“Yeah! No problem! You can call me anytime! I have a cell phone and it’s always on and I never sleep.”
Huh. A cell phone. Was he trying to impress her or something?
After saying good-bye, she got back to the party.
Continued here.
* Note: I didn't realize just how long this part of the story was when I started typing it, so I've broken it down into smaller, readable chunks for y'all, thus the double posting tonight.*
Fifteen Years (and one month, and one day) ago: Friday, December 5, 1997
The morning of the Baptist Student Union Christmas party came. She was neurotically nervous- would he come? Would her cheesecakes come out ok? Should she have practiced making them one more time before the big day? Would he come? Would he remember her? What should she wear? Did she put on deodorant this morning? Would he come???
She spent all afternoon in the BSU kitchen preparing the food for the party and, when the party started, she had given up all hope of wearing anything 1950’s related. Her black and white nylon jogging pants, blue hoodie, and classic black Chuck Taylors would have to do. Hey- they wore Chucks in the 50’s, right? And women were known and expected to work in the kitchen back then, so…..she was ready to roll. All she needed were some pearls, but perhaps the blobs of flour and cheese on her shirt would be mistaken for a necklace if she stood at just the right angle. Besides, he probably wouldn’t come anyway and she had nobody to impress so what did it matter?
Since she was in charge of the food, she spent most of the time in the kitchen, scurrying here and there making sure everything was working well. Truth be told, hiding out in the kitchen also gave her an excuse to not have to interact with such a large crowd all evening. She was nervous enough without throwing in a social faux pas or five into the mix. She would peek her head out the kitchen door or serving window from time to time just to see if he had arrived, but the time slowly passed and still there was no black leather wearing Fonzie wannabe in the crowd.
About an hour into the party, she was in the middle of the kitchen and was giving instructions to the other kitchen helpers who had just propped open the door to either take out or return some serving trays. As she turned toward the door in the middle of giving an order, she noticed someone standing at the entrance wearing a black leather coat and the world’s brightest smile. He came. And he was smiling at HER.
She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth slowly returning the smile as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. He waved. She waved back and shyly walked over to him.
She told him she was surprised he came since it was so late already. Her mouth’s ability to just spew out words while completely bypassing her brain seemed to amuse him. He was sorry he was late- he and his roommate ran into some difficulty or other but he was glad to see her and couldn’t wait to try her cheesecake.
She was flattered he remembered and was telling him how busy she had been in the kitchen and was going to go on and on and on with random details since she was so nervous and couldn’t really stop her mouth once it began. Luckily, at that moment she was interrupted by one of the other volunteers who said they needed her in the kitchen. She told him she had to go, feeling pleased to be so important in front of him and went back into her safety zone. Once inside, she briefly turned back to the still open door to wave to him when her heart sank to the bottom of her Chuck Taylors. In just the 2 seconds it took her to walk away, he was swarmed by 5 other girls, all of whom he seemed to know and with whom he seemed to be pleased to spend time.
Ah well, she thought. She knew it was just a foolish dream since she obviously wasn’t his type. By the look of his new harem outside, he liked blondes. Tall ones who twittered and laughed stupidly at anything he said. They were probably as dumb as they sounded and if he liked such high maintenance bimbos, then he wasn’t worth her time. Not that she was bitter or anything.
As the party progressed, she resolutely told herself to not shove a cheesecake into the face of that one tall bimbo who kept hovering all over him, playing some stupid game of “splash each other with a cup of water” who would then stupidly squeal in mock annoyance when she got wet.
No. Our busy little bee would simply take the serving tray to the table and then pretend she didn’t see him as he dodged a playful hug from Tall Bimbo and instead came up to the table and asked if he could help with the tray.
Harumph, she thought. Just what kind of game was he playing?
As she was going back to the kitchen, someone came up to tell her that her mom was on the phone. Since this was 1997 and cellphones were just starting to not look like shoeboxes anymore, that meant her mom had called the BSU and she didn’t know whether to be super embarrassed that her mom was checking in on her, or to be worried that there was a family emergency. Knowing her mom, it was the former and Mommy Dearest would now have to die.
When she got to the phone, she tried to play it off like her mom was some sort of loony and did crazy stuff like this all the time. Her mom asked, “How’s it going?” as if small talk was what was needed at this moment. “Well, uh, I knew you were going to stay out late, but I had to tell you that someone called for you and wanted you to call them back tonight.” It had better be Angela Lansbury herself to warrant such an interruption to a major social event!
“It’s Mr. W.”
What the what?! Why would Mr. W. be calling her? Did he need her to take a shift at work for him or something? Of course her mother knew about her ginormous crush on Mr. W. and was so excited that he called that she just had to tell her the good news right away. She jotted down his number and then thought it wouldn’t hurt to call him right now. Since she was scheduled to work bright and early the next day, she couldn’t fill in for him at work and should let him know as soon as possible.
So she called him.
After telling him who she was and that she was returning his call, he asked what she was up to and seemed to take forever to get to the point of asking her about work. She let him know she was at a Christmas party, so what did he want?
“Oh nothing. I just wanted to talk to you. Thanks for calling me back!”
What? Did she inhale too many fumes from the kitchen? Why would he call “just to talk?”
After recovering from her shock, she asked if she could call him back later since she was, you know, at a party right now and couldn’t really talk and thought he needed to ask something about work, so….
“Yeah! No problem! You can call me anytime! I have a cell phone and it’s always on and I never sleep.”
Huh. A cell phone. Was he trying to impress her or something?
After saying good-bye, she got back to the party.
Continued here.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Fifteen Years Ago....Part One
Fifteen Years (and one month....and one day) ago…. Thursday, Dec 4, 1997
There she was- minding her own business- opening the coffee shop at the University’s Baptist Student Union one early morning for her friend who ran the joint. She was a college freshman finishing up her very first semester in college. She was enjoying her various 101 classes, though struggling with the whole concept of “studying” since the recent high school valedictorian hadn’t really needed to study up until this point. School always came easy for her, which was good since she was currently working two jobs (getting paid a whopping $6.50 per hour at each- the “good ol’ days”) and had a 45 minute commute (one way) from her home in the country to the University and basically had zero time to study, anyway.
She was probably thinking of this one guy she worked with- we’ll call him Mr. W- on whom she had a very large crush. However, she felt it was hopeless thinking about him since he didn’t seem to know she was alive and, besides, guys never asked her out, anyway.
She was working at the coffee shop, which wasn’t one of her “real” jobs, in order to fund her trip to the Passion Conference being held in Texas that year. Even though she had two jobs, and a full-ride scholarship, she didn’t have much money to spare and she *really* wanted to go to this conference with the new friends she met at the BSU.
So, there she was that cold December morning, all alone with her thoughts. One topic on the forefront of her mind was the upcoming BSU Christmas party which the BSU freshmen had the honor of planning each year. She fancied herself a pretty good cook and loved to bake, so she volunteered to be in charge of organizing the food. Her contribution to the party? A couple of cheesecakes- her favorite food behind pizza. If there was anything this current pre-med student cared about, it was goodnutrition food- especially foods that contained cheese. There was no way this girl would ever be able to give up her cheese!
The Christmas party had a 1950’s theme and she was envisioning herself in a poodle skirt, bobby socks, and a ponytail with bangs. How she was going to get a poodle skirt by the next day was a bit of a puzzle to her, but it wasn’t enough to keep this perpetual optimist from thinking how very awesome everything was going to be and how many accolades she would receive about her cheesecakes.
As she was thinking about how much Mr. W. would be impressed by her cheesecakes, if only he came to the BSU, and how much fun she would have at the Passion Conference, and how she was going to prepare for her finals, she barely noticed her first customer come in the side door.
As she was preheating the cappuccino machines, she finally noticed she wasn’t alone and briefly turned to say she’d be with them in just a minute, barely registering that it was a guy and that he was smiling. As she was turning back to her work, her brain caught up to her eyes and she snapped back around in a double take at that gorgeous smile and then caught a glimpse at his eyes- the most beautiful smile and eye combination she’d ever seen. He was wearing a black coat over a teal polo shirt and his eyes seemed to match his shirt, though she was a little blinded by his gleaming white, perfect smile.
Temporarily dumbfounded and inwardly hoping her gasp wasn’t as loud to everyone else in the room as it was in her head, she had to close her mouth to prevent the drool from escaping and tried to get her facial muscles to mirror back a smile….and hopefully not the “debonair smile” she’d seen countless times in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, her favorite movie.
She became instantly self-conscious and hoped that she looked as cute as she thought she did when she dressed this morning- she had on her ever stylish zip-up red flannel over a white long john shirt, jeans and her beige work boots (“Doc Martens” she bought at WalMart). She never was one for being at the forefront of fashion, but, oh who was she kidding- she was rocking those work boots and she knew it.
She managed to find her voice and took his order. As he was chatting away, she was lost in her thoughts, again. He was cute. Very cute. TOO cute. He’d never go for a girl like her. She’s too much of a nerd and opinionated and not very attractive. She’s smart, nice and funny, but, no guys ever ask her out, so might as well just take his order and talk to him. Maybe they could become friends and she could help him with his future relationship issues- he could get any girl he wanted and probably already had a girlfriend, anyway. Besides, guys that look like him are usually stuck up and vain. Ugh. What a douche. A cute douche with the most perfect smile and eyes…..*siiiigh* Wait…what’s that he just said? He’s going to the Christmas party tomorrow? Did he just say he was going to wear a black leather coat while sticking his thumb up and saying, “Heeeey,” like the Fonz? Is he still smiling? At me?? Is he kinda slow? Well at least he has a good sense of humor. Did I put on deodorant this morning?
She made him his cappuccino and hoped it was the best cappuccino he ever had. He took a sip and visibly shook himself saying, “Wow- this is strong. Is it really a cappuccino?”
At first horrified and then taking umbrage at being questioned on her both her knowledge of and ability to make a good cappuccino, she quickly informed him that it was and if he didn’t like it, he should have ordered a latte.
Registering that she washostile offended, he quickly said, “No, no. I love strong coffee. It’s my favorite,” and then flashed her that gorgeous, knee melting smile once again.
Ok. He was forgiven. For now.
They continued to talk about the party and soon realized how much time had passed and that they both needed to get to class. He waved goodbye and told her he’d see her at the party the next day and once again lit up the room with his smile.
As she followed him with her eyes, a painfully goofy smile on her own face, she sighed, and finished up her shift before heading out to class, once again lost in her thoughts. Would he come like he said he would? Would he fall in love with her....I mean her cheesecakes? Was he going to turn out to be a vain jerk?
Oh heck. What did it matter. A guy like him would never go for a girl like her, anyway….
(Part Two: The Christmas Party is here.)
There she was- minding her own business- opening the coffee shop at the University’s Baptist Student Union one early morning for her friend who ran the joint. She was a college freshman finishing up her very first semester in college. She was enjoying her various 101 classes, though struggling with the whole concept of “studying” since the recent high school valedictorian hadn’t really needed to study up until this point. School always came easy for her, which was good since she was currently working two jobs (getting paid a whopping $6.50 per hour at each- the “good ol’ days”) and had a 45 minute commute (one way) from her home in the country to the University and basically had zero time to study, anyway.
She was probably thinking of this one guy she worked with- we’ll call him Mr. W- on whom she had a very large crush. However, she felt it was hopeless thinking about him since he didn’t seem to know she was alive and, besides, guys never asked her out, anyway.
She was working at the coffee shop, which wasn’t one of her “real” jobs, in order to fund her trip to the Passion Conference being held in Texas that year. Even though she had two jobs, and a full-ride scholarship, she didn’t have much money to spare and she *really* wanted to go to this conference with the new friends she met at the BSU.
So, there she was that cold December morning, all alone with her thoughts. One topic on the forefront of her mind was the upcoming BSU Christmas party which the BSU freshmen had the honor of planning each year. She fancied herself a pretty good cook and loved to bake, so she volunteered to be in charge of organizing the food. Her contribution to the party? A couple of cheesecakes- her favorite food behind pizza. If there was anything this current pre-med student cared about, it was good
The Christmas party had a 1950’s theme and she was envisioning herself in a poodle skirt, bobby socks, and a ponytail with bangs. How she was going to get a poodle skirt by the next day was a bit of a puzzle to her, but it wasn’t enough to keep this perpetual optimist from thinking how very awesome everything was going to be and how many accolades she would receive about her cheesecakes.
As she was thinking about how much Mr. W. would be impressed by her cheesecakes, if only he came to the BSU, and how much fun she would have at the Passion Conference, and how she was going to prepare for her finals, she barely noticed her first customer come in the side door.
As she was preheating the cappuccino machines, she finally noticed she wasn’t alone and briefly turned to say she’d be with them in just a minute, barely registering that it was a guy and that he was smiling. As she was turning back to her work, her brain caught up to her eyes and she snapped back around in a double take at that gorgeous smile and then caught a glimpse at his eyes- the most beautiful smile and eye combination she’d ever seen. He was wearing a black coat over a teal polo shirt and his eyes seemed to match his shirt, though she was a little blinded by his gleaming white, perfect smile.
Temporarily dumbfounded and inwardly hoping her gasp wasn’t as loud to everyone else in the room as it was in her head, she had to close her mouth to prevent the drool from escaping and tried to get her facial muscles to mirror back a smile….and hopefully not the “debonair smile” she’d seen countless times in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, her favorite movie.
She became instantly self-conscious and hoped that she looked as cute as she thought she did when she dressed this morning- she had on her ever stylish zip-up red flannel over a white long john shirt, jeans and her beige work boots (“Doc Martens” she bought at WalMart). She never was one for being at the forefront of fashion, but, oh who was she kidding- she was rocking those work boots and she knew it.
She managed to find her voice and took his order. As he was chatting away, she was lost in her thoughts, again. He was cute. Very cute. TOO cute. He’d never go for a girl like her. She’s too much of a nerd and opinionated and not very attractive. She’s smart, nice and funny, but, no guys ever ask her out, so might as well just take his order and talk to him. Maybe they could become friends and she could help him with his future relationship issues- he could get any girl he wanted and probably already had a girlfriend, anyway. Besides, guys that look like him are usually stuck up and vain. Ugh. What a douche. A cute douche with the most perfect smile and eyes…..*siiiigh* Wait…what’s that he just said? He’s going to the Christmas party tomorrow? Did he just say he was going to wear a black leather coat while sticking his thumb up and saying, “Heeeey,” like the Fonz? Is he still smiling? At me?? Is he kinda slow? Well at least he has a good sense of humor. Did I put on deodorant this morning?
She made him his cappuccino and hoped it was the best cappuccino he ever had. He took a sip and visibly shook himself saying, “Wow- this is strong. Is it really a cappuccino?”
At first horrified and then taking umbrage at being questioned on her both her knowledge of and ability to make a good cappuccino, she quickly informed him that it was and if he didn’t like it, he should have ordered a latte.
Registering that she was
Ok. He was forgiven. For now.
They continued to talk about the party and soon realized how much time had passed and that they both needed to get to class. He waved goodbye and told her he’d see her at the party the next day and once again lit up the room with his smile.
As she followed him with her eyes, a painfully goofy smile on her own face, she sighed, and finished up her shift before heading out to class, once again lost in her thoughts. Would he come like he said he would? Would he fall in love with her....I mean her cheesecakes? Was he going to turn out to be a vain jerk?
Oh heck. What did it matter. A guy like him would never go for a girl like her, anyway….
(Part Two: The Christmas Party is here.)
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Happy New Year!
Happy 2013!
Even though 2012 had some, shall we say, "bumps in the road," I'm happy to report that it actually ended really well. We capped it off by having a great New Year's Eve (not that we were awake at midnight- we’re parents of a toddler now and one of us happens to be 7 months pregnant....you do the math) where my Mister and I got to see The Hobbit. (!!) It was an actual date. Alone. Without Little Mister. WAHOO! And, I’m actually looking forward to what this New Year will bring instead of dreading what unknown curveballs it may send my way.
When last I left you, things were kinda sorta looking up for me in a, “Meh…whatever….eat, sleep, try not to hide when I see people” type of way. It was actually an improvement from the, “OH WOE IS ME! ACK! People! *Hisss* *Snarl*” outlook I had earlier. And now, I am happy to report that I’ve improved even more. I’m now in a, “A New Year- how exciting! Oh look! People! They don’t look too stupid so I think I’ll smile at them! ” outlook. I’ve even been using smileys in my emails and actually wish I had more energy during the day so that I could get things done instead of wasting Little Mister’s naptime by taking a nap myself. (Oh who am I kidding- I love sleeping. YAY FOR NAPS!)
I noticed an upswing in my outlook in November- we took a cruise to New Zealand which I had been looking forward to for a long time. I really really really wanted to tour Hobbiton, truth be told. However, I had been really scared that I wouldn’t be able to walk more than 10 minutes much less the couple hours the tour would require. (Background info: I ran a 10K in June and by the end of August I couldn’t walk more than 10 minutes without feeling like my pubic symphysis was going to split in two. My pelvic girdle/pubic symphysis/sacral joint issues were the cause of my constant pain last pregnancy and a huge reason for my lack of blogging- I was beyond miserable. Since the pain started earlier this time around, I thought I was doomed for 9 months of agonizing pain, which was a major component of my despondent first trimester.)
HOWEVER. Not only was I able to walk around for much longer than I had anticipated, I was able to do it with this cute, sleepy little Hobbit strapped to my chest.
We were able to tour Hobbiton without feeling like I was steps away from Mount Doom and I leftMiddle Earth New Zealand with a hope that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps the rest of my pregnancy wasn’t going to be as miserable as I had anticipated!
We even got to utilize some of the crochet creations I made earlier in the year.
I was and have been in a much better mood ever since. I actually got in the Christmas Spirit and decorated the house instead of being a Grinch like last year. We had a great Christmas- I think I was more excited for Little Mister to open his gifts than I was for my own.
And then… a miracle of miracles happened. Something that hadn’t happened in nearly 6 months. I, Gege from GegeCrochet, actually started crocheting again. *GAAAASP!*
Not only that, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to start this new year with an actual finished object- and even a pattern! I’m putting the finishing touches on it and should have it done today or tomorrow. Let me tell ya- it felt good to let those creative juices flow again. My Mister has been really happy about it, too. He’s beenpressuring encouraging me to crochet for a long time now and he really wanted me to finish this particular project ASAP. Granted, he’s also realizing that, while Gege crocheting again = happier wife, it also means a messier, yarn strewn living room again. Even so, I think it’s a tradeoff he’s willing to make. ;)
So, there you have it. A start to a New Year filled with hope in my heart, a smile on my face, and a hook and yarn in my hand.
I wish you all a very Happy 2013!
Even though 2012 had some, shall we say, "bumps in the road," I'm happy to report that it actually ended really well. We capped it off by having a great New Year's Eve (not that we were awake at midnight- we’re parents of a toddler now and one of us happens to be 7 months pregnant....you do the math) where my Mister and I got to see The Hobbit. (!!) It was an actual date. Alone. Without Little Mister. WAHOO! And, I’m actually looking forward to what this New Year will bring instead of dreading what unknown curveballs it may send my way.
When last I left you, things were kinda sorta looking up for me in a, “Meh…whatever….eat, sleep, try not to hide when I see people” type of way. It was actually an improvement from the, “OH WOE IS ME! ACK! People! *Hisss* *Snarl*” outlook I had earlier. And now, I am happy to report that I’ve improved even more. I’m now in a, “A New Year- how exciting! Oh look! People! They don’t look too stupid so I think I’ll smile at them! ” outlook. I’ve even been using smileys in my emails and actually wish I had more energy during the day so that I could get things done instead of wasting Little Mister’s naptime by taking a nap myself. (Oh who am I kidding- I love sleeping. YAY FOR NAPS!)
I noticed an upswing in my outlook in November- we took a cruise to New Zealand which I had been looking forward to for a long time. I really really really wanted to tour Hobbiton, truth be told. However, I had been really scared that I wouldn’t be able to walk more than 10 minutes much less the couple hours the tour would require. (Background info: I ran a 10K in June and by the end of August I couldn’t walk more than 10 minutes without feeling like my pubic symphysis was going to split in two. My pelvic girdle/pubic symphysis/sacral joint issues were the cause of my constant pain last pregnancy and a huge reason for my lack of blogging- I was beyond miserable. Since the pain started earlier this time around, I thought I was doomed for 9 months of agonizing pain, which was a major component of my despondent first trimester.)
HOWEVER. Not only was I able to walk around for much longer than I had anticipated, I was able to do it with this cute, sleepy little Hobbit strapped to my chest.
 |
| Knock knock, Bilbo! |
We were able to tour Hobbiton without feeling like I was steps away from Mount Doom and I left
 |
| My prrreciousssssss |
 |
| Bat Hobbit is hungry! |
I was and have been in a much better mood ever since. I actually got in the Christmas Spirit and decorated the house instead of being a Grinch like last year. We had a great Christmas- I think I was more excited for Little Mister to open his gifts than I was for my own.
And then… a miracle of miracles happened. Something that hadn’t happened in nearly 6 months. I, Gege from GegeCrochet, actually started crocheting again. *GAAAASP!*
Not only that, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to start this new year with an actual finished object- and even a pattern! I’m putting the finishing touches on it and should have it done today or tomorrow. Let me tell ya- it felt good to let those creative juices flow again. My Mister has been really happy about it, too. He’s been
So, there you have it. A start to a New Year filled with hope in my heart, a smile on my face, and a hook and yarn in my hand.
I wish you all a very Happy 2013!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Fine. I'll talk. But I Won't Like It. Well, Maybe a Little.
Why, hello there chickadee! Fancy seeing you here. Come around here often? You do?? That’s funny because I apparently don’t.
Thank you to those of you who have been inquiring about me. I really do appreciate it! However, it’s when my close friends and family start asking, “Hey, you still alive? Haven’t heard from you in a while….” that I know I need to stick my head out of my cave and blearily blink my eyes at the sun and wearily croak, “Yes I’m here! Now get off my lawn you dang whipper snappers!” and then slowly turn myself around and drag myself back into the abyss, grunting with the effort I expended by being social.
So. Hi. I’m still here. Doing….aiight. Actually, I had started a few blog posts since my last one letting y’all know that things have been going much better since entering the second trimester….but then things were not going so much better so I abandoned those posts. And then, thanks to an email from Libby drawing my attention to this hilarious story, I started a post on poop and it made me laugh and then I couldn’t find a way to finish it so I left it in the crapper. (Though it’s still relevant and I will post it eventually. You have been forewarned.)
There are good days and bad days and for a while the good were outnumbering the bad but then the bad came out a-swingin’. But I do think the good are starting their rally once again. I can tell because I started reading again. Well, actually I should say that I’ve finished what I started reading- in the last few months I started 3 different books and didn’t finish any of them but have now in the last week finished 3 books. None of which were the ones I started earlier. Huh. Go fig.
Reading is a good sign. I stopped doing things that made me “me” including reading and *gasp*shock*horrors* even crocheting. (!!) I haven’t picked up my hooks since the end of July and even my Mister is trying to get me back by waving wool under my nose hoping the smell will waft its way into my control center and turn things around.
I think he was most concerned when I told him I was seriously thinking of selling all my yarn. (!!!) I KNOW!! What the heck has happened to me?? At first I was so frantic and freaked when we first moved here that I sought solace in my yarn. I was all, “I NEED TO BUY ALL THE YARN!” and just about did that. Now the tide has swung and I’m all, “GAH! There is too much yarn! Where am I going to put the baby??” and then I think how much more comfortable she’ll be if she had a proper crib and not just shoved in the closet on top of her mom’s mountain of yarn. I mean, it was cute when I did it with Little Mister, but now I’m going to have a second baby and that makes me a Real Mom now, right? And instead of finding comfort in my stash, I'm feeling overwhelmed because it's much too large for our house and I'll never be able to use it all in my lifetime and it's going to attract moths and my kids are going to be embarrassed about their yarn hoarding mother and all of the homemade things she makes and the way she keeps muttering under her breath, "Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? THEN GIVE IT TO ME!"
*HUGE INHALE*
Oh yeah. Did ya catch those pronouns I threw your way? We’re having a little girl! EEEEEEEP!!! Of course, there’s always a possibility the ultrasound tech was wrong, but from the looks of it, there was no stem on that apple. I had a feeling it’d be a girl. Years ago, way before I’d even started thinking about having kids, I would have dreams of having a boy, then a girl, then twins- a boy and girl. When we had Little Mister, I knew he’d be a boy. Now that we’re having a girl, I’m totally freaking out because WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO WITH TWINS??? Because, logically, of course, that’s what’s going to happen since I’m obviously able to tell the future with my dreams. I told My Mister that I’m scared to get pregnant again and he said, “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. You become a different person when you’re pregnant.”
After I burst into tears, farted and then yelled, "TWINS WILL GIVE ME HEMORRHOIDS FOR SURE!!" I had to concede his point.
Yeah. Like I said last time, pregnancy and I don’t really get along all that well. Those dang hormones really mess with me hardcore. Yes, with both pregnancies I’ve had extenuating circumstances that have weighed on me (an international move and my dad’s death, respectively), but I know that it’s more than just that.*
Anywho…thanks again to those of you who have been asking about me. You have no idea how much it means to me. I’m sorry I’m not better about keeping in touch. I think I’m going to declare bankruptcy on emails for now. I haven’t been checking FB, either, so, for friends and family, I’m sorry if you’ve been trying to get in touch with me that way. I’ve not been a complete hermit and have been forcing myself to be at least a little social. I even attended a book club meeting a couple weeks ago and actually had fun! But for the most part I'm torn between wanting to go out amongst the living and actually have fun, or staying home wrapped in bubble wrap waiting for March to hurry up and get here before I really do say the things I'm thinking to all the stupid people of the world. (No, seriously- my tolerance for dumb folks really plummets when I'm pregnant. For my previous co-workers who are reading this: Can you imagine how much I had to bite my tongue with some of our clients last time?? And for my previous clients who are reading this: No. I'm not talking about you.)
Good night, good morning, and good afternoon everyone!
*I’m putting this here for women who may be googling things like I was and finding so very little info on the topic: pre-partum or prenatal depression is real and does not only affect women who were on medications prior to pregnancy and who then abruptly stopped them when they found out they were pregnant. This is a good series of first person accounts, but unfortunately they are all women who fall into the “previously medicated” category. It hit me very hard during the first trimester, has definitely eased up in the second trimester, though still rears its ugly head from time to time, and if it’s going to be like last time, the third trimester is going to be hell. Granted, I was super stressed about the move last time and was in constant excruciating pain, as well. This time there’s no move looming ahead of me and I’m not in constant pain, though it’s still relatively early yet and the physical issues I faced previously have returned (pelvic girdle and pubic symphysis dysfunction…..more on those loverlies later.)
I know I’m not alone with this issue, but goodness, there’s a ton of info and first person accounts on POSTpartum depression, but while you’re pregnant, the possibility of being depressed seems to be verboten. Not every woman is a happy, shining goddess, becoming one with the life that is forming within her, who is just glowing from all the happiness she is filled with. Some of us are miserable, bloated whales who can’t wait for the torture to end so that we can expel all the gas and negativity that we are filled with. At least this time around I know what’s happening….last time I wondered what was wrong with me since I wasn’t like all those other women who just *loved* being pregnant, rubbing their bellies with awe and joy.
I readily admit I do NOT enjoy being pregnant. Every pregnancy is different and I had high hopes for this one, but unfortunately, those negative feelings returned. It's more than just feeling uncomfortable- like my Mister says, I become a different person when I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby kick is very cool, I must admit, but it's so much better when they are on the outside kicking everyone rather than on the inside kicking your bladder, you know? Anywho...if you stumbled upon this post from googling prepartum depression or prenatal depression, I want you to know you are not alone and you are not crazy. Well, you kinda are, but it's a temporary crazy and does get better once the baby is born. Go talk to your doctor about it. If they just brush you off and tell you your fears, anger, and anxiety are normal, find another doctor who will take you seriously. Sure, a little anxiety about becoming a new parent is normal, but when it is all encompassing and prevents you from living a normal life and makes you think it might be better if you never had this child because you already dislike it, then it is NOT normal. Especially if your pregnancy was planned and the baby was definitely wanted prior to you actually becoming pregnant. Having the baby will definitely change your life and, if you have prepartum depression, it will definitely change your life for the better.
Thank you to those of you who have been inquiring about me. I really do appreciate it! However, it’s when my close friends and family start asking, “Hey, you still alive? Haven’t heard from you in a while….” that I know I need to stick my head out of my cave and blearily blink my eyes at the sun and wearily croak, “Yes I’m here! Now get off my lawn you dang whipper snappers!” and then slowly turn myself around and drag myself back into the abyss, grunting with the effort I expended by being social.
So. Hi. I’m still here. Doing….aiight. Actually, I had started a few blog posts since my last one letting y’all know that things have been going much better since entering the second trimester….but then things were not going so much better so I abandoned those posts. And then, thanks to an email from Libby drawing my attention to this hilarious story, I started a post on poop and it made me laugh and then I couldn’t find a way to finish it so I left it in the crapper. (Though it’s still relevant and I will post it eventually. You have been forewarned.)
There are good days and bad days and for a while the good were outnumbering the bad but then the bad came out a-swingin’. But I do think the good are starting their rally once again. I can tell because I started reading again. Well, actually I should say that I’ve finished what I started reading- in the last few months I started 3 different books and didn’t finish any of them but have now in the last week finished 3 books. None of which were the ones I started earlier. Huh. Go fig.
Reading is a good sign. I stopped doing things that made me “me” including reading and *gasp*shock*horrors* even crocheting. (!!) I haven’t picked up my hooks since the end of July and even my Mister is trying to get me back by waving wool under my nose hoping the smell will waft its way into my control center and turn things around.
I think he was most concerned when I told him I was seriously thinking of selling all my yarn. (!!!) I KNOW!! What the heck has happened to me?? At first I was so frantic and freaked when we first moved here that I sought solace in my yarn. I was all, “I NEED TO BUY ALL THE YARN!” and just about did that. Now the tide has swung and I’m all, “GAH! There is too much yarn! Where am I going to put the baby??” and then I think how much more comfortable she’ll be if she had a proper crib and not just shoved in the closet on top of her mom’s mountain of yarn. I mean, it was cute when I did it with Little Mister, but now I’m going to have a second baby and that makes me a Real Mom now, right? And instead of finding comfort in my stash, I'm feeling overwhelmed because it's much too large for our house and I'll never be able to use it all in my lifetime and it's going to attract moths and my kids are going to be embarrassed about their yarn hoarding mother and all of the homemade things she makes and the way she keeps muttering under her breath, "Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? THEN GIVE IT TO ME!"
*HUGE INHALE*
Oh yeah. Did ya catch those pronouns I threw your way? We’re having a little girl! EEEEEEEP!!! Of course, there’s always a possibility the ultrasound tech was wrong, but from the looks of it, there was no stem on that apple. I had a feeling it’d be a girl. Years ago, way before I’d even started thinking about having kids, I would have dreams of having a boy, then a girl, then twins- a boy and girl. When we had Little Mister, I knew he’d be a boy. Now that we’re having a girl, I’m totally freaking out because WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO WITH TWINS??? Because, logically, of course, that’s what’s going to happen since I’m obviously able to tell the future with my dreams. I told My Mister that I’m scared to get pregnant again and he said, “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. You become a different person when you’re pregnant.”
After I burst into tears, farted and then yelled, "TWINS WILL GIVE ME HEMORRHOIDS FOR SURE!!" I had to concede his point.
Yeah. Like I said last time, pregnancy and I don’t really get along all that well. Those dang hormones really mess with me hardcore. Yes, with both pregnancies I’ve had extenuating circumstances that have weighed on me (an international move and my dad’s death, respectively), but I know that it’s more than just that.*
Anywho…thanks again to those of you who have been asking about me. You have no idea how much it means to me. I’m sorry I’m not better about keeping in touch. I think I’m going to declare bankruptcy on emails for now. I haven’t been checking FB, either, so, for friends and family, I’m sorry if you’ve been trying to get in touch with me that way. I’ve not been a complete hermit and have been forcing myself to be at least a little social. I even attended a book club meeting a couple weeks ago and actually had fun! But for the most part I'm torn between wanting to go out amongst the living and actually have fun, or staying home wrapped in bubble wrap waiting for March to hurry up and get here before I really do say the things I'm thinking to all the stupid people of the world. (No, seriously- my tolerance for dumb folks really plummets when I'm pregnant. For my previous co-workers who are reading this: Can you imagine how much I had to bite my tongue with some of our clients last time?? And for my previous clients who are reading this: No. I'm not talking about you.)
Good night, good morning, and good afternoon everyone!
*I’m putting this here for women who may be googling things like I was and finding so very little info on the topic: pre-partum or prenatal depression is real and does not only affect women who were on medications prior to pregnancy and who then abruptly stopped them when they found out they were pregnant. This is a good series of first person accounts, but unfortunately they are all women who fall into the “previously medicated” category. It hit me very hard during the first trimester, has definitely eased up in the second trimester, though still rears its ugly head from time to time, and if it’s going to be like last time, the third trimester is going to be hell. Granted, I was super stressed about the move last time and was in constant excruciating pain, as well. This time there’s no move looming ahead of me and I’m not in constant pain, though it’s still relatively early yet and the physical issues I faced previously have returned (pelvic girdle and pubic symphysis dysfunction…..more on those loverlies later.)
I know I’m not alone with this issue, but goodness, there’s a ton of info and first person accounts on POSTpartum depression, but while you’re pregnant, the possibility of being depressed seems to be verboten. Not every woman is a happy, shining goddess, becoming one with the life that is forming within her, who is just glowing from all the happiness she is filled with. Some of us are miserable, bloated whales who can’t wait for the torture to end so that we can expel all the gas and negativity that we are filled with. At least this time around I know what’s happening….last time I wondered what was wrong with me since I wasn’t like all those other women who just *loved* being pregnant, rubbing their bellies with awe and joy.
I readily admit I do NOT enjoy being pregnant. Every pregnancy is different and I had high hopes for this one, but unfortunately, those negative feelings returned. It's more than just feeling uncomfortable- like my Mister says, I become a different person when I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby kick is very cool, I must admit, but it's so much better when they are on the outside kicking everyone rather than on the inside kicking your bladder, you know? Anywho...if you stumbled upon this post from googling prepartum depression or prenatal depression, I want you to know you are not alone and you are not crazy. Well, you kinda are, but it's a temporary crazy and does get better once the baby is born. Go talk to your doctor about it. If they just brush you off and tell you your fears, anger, and anxiety are normal, find another doctor who will take you seriously. Sure, a little anxiety about becoming a new parent is normal, but when it is all encompassing and prevents you from living a normal life and makes you think it might be better if you never had this child because you already dislike it, then it is NOT normal. Especially if your pregnancy was planned and the baby was definitely wanted prior to you actually becoming pregnant. Having the baby will definitely change your life and, if you have prepartum depression, it will definitely change your life for the better.
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