29…

…means still getting to tell people, “I’m in my 20s…” I’m enjoying THAT while it lasts!
…is not so bad. Ten years ago, I thought I would be in a different place than where I am right now. But honestly, I’m happy with the way things turned out.
…is not yet 30! Please give me at least a week to enjoy 29 before bombarding me with comments like, “You’re almost 30…”
…is probably old enough to know better. But in the spirit of being as young as you act, I got drunk on my birthday, yelled at my friend for not doing a shot fast enough and slugged vodka out of the bottle in the backseat of the car while being driven home. I could have passed for 21!
…makes for one mean soccer player. I may not be as fast as some of the young’uns I play against, but I’m definitely smarter. Watch out, kids!
…is less than one-third of how long I plan to live.

Welcome to the Jungle

The other night, I was among a group of people hanging out for happy hour (yes, I know, a big change for me!) who got to witness the primal mating ritual between the species.
A conversation in the bathroom tipped me off to the fun to come:
“Your breasts are so nice.”
“Yeah, yours are natural and mine are naturally paid for.”
Upon further study, I learned the speakers were a large woman and her friend of dyed blondness and too much makeup (want to take a guess about which one had the fake boobs?) The bathroom story was enough to inspire the group to subtly check out the women when we returned to the bar (purely out of scientific curiosity, of course!) As we discussed our subjects- the large one, the frilly one and another one that seemed to be an older and saggier version of the primped one- we also noticed some movement around the group. It seems the lions were moving in for the kill.
Although they were trying to be subtle, our trained eyes were able to see that the males in the vicinity had spotted their prey and were coming up with plans of attack. The male researchers in our group hypothesized about how the kill would happen… and how they would approach the situation if they weren’t such upstanding observers (or married). It was decided that the best attack would include multiple males to distract the larger and older victims with small chat and free drinks while the most suave of the predators snuck up on the one with frosted lipstick and engaged her in conversation.
Our theories were not far off. An older male got into the action by wooing the hightop-wearing mom and starting a conversation with her and the large lady. In the same movement, a red-shirt beast sidled up to the unsuspecting (and definitely unfashionable) prey. Before she could react to the penetration of her herd, the female was wooed by a drink and small touches on her arm while most likely being told how beautiful her breasts… I mean, her eyes… were.
We left before the ritual played itself out, but I’m guessing that was one lucky lion that left the bar that night!

“black Friday redux”

oh my gosh. the day is only half over and already, it’s a killer.

where do I begin? crank calling the cops (by accident)? barking bailey during a client call? the cops showing up at my door? the delicate dressing down by my boss who knows I’m sensitive enough to yell “I quit!” if I feel wronged?

so I work from home on Fridays, just so that’s clear. thank god. I don’t have it in me to drive 130 miles five day a week. four is quite enough for me. so I take my Fridays very seriously and rarely venture out even for lunch. when I have conference calls, I’m careful to tire bailey out and lock him up. I even have an extended line so I can take the phone upstairs if I need to.

that’s why this morning was such a disaster by astronomical proportions. so at 10:56 I call into my conference line. I sit and wait for a good 10 minutes before calling on my cell to find out where my coworker is. he answers his line. he’s on the call… but a different line. I hurriedly hang up and dial into the other line. they’re there.

I apologize for being late (6 minutes) and throw out lots of my brilliant ideas. things are going great until bailey goes NUTS 15 minutes later. I use the mute button. we eventually end the call, and I soothe bailey. as soon as I let him out, the doorbell rings. I meanwhile have called back the guy from work to apologize profusely. he shakes me off- it’s fine he says. as I open the door, I’m in shock. it’s a cop.

“ethan, I have to go. there’s a cop at my door.”

I open the door. I hesitate. he says nothing. I’m looking for the calendars or the friendly smile. nothing. there’s a pause.

frantic me while holding bailey back: “can I help you?”
officer: “… uh… did someone call 911?”
frantic me: ‘no! I mean- I’ve been on the phone. I didn’t’ call 911…. I’ve been on the land line… (gesturing to the phone behind the door)...”

the cop looks at me rather questioningly –

him: “isn’t this 585?”
me: “yeah. but. well yeah,.”
him: “is there anyone else here?”
me: “no. just me and my crazy dog…”

he eventually walks away.

as I discover later, I had accidentally dialed 9 -1- and then hung up, remembering I wasn’t at my office. I then wait with my finger on the hang up button to clear the line and then dial the conference line -- 1-866--. it goes through. I jump on the call and play catch up, not realizing I had dialed 911. so the cop apparently comes to my house, walks around my house, and bailey sees him, and goes nuts.

then he comes around and rings the doorbell and tragicomedy ensues.



and I haven’t even eaten lunch yet.

My uterus has a few years before it shrivels up...

An older woman who I have a lot of respect for gave me some strange advice today. I was talking about turning 29 (it’s been a theme with me lately) and mentioned that I’m getting old. (To be fair and to show I’m keeping things in perspective, I’ll add that I also said it’s not so bad because I feel like I’ve accomplished a lot in those 29 years).
Anyway, she asked me if I want to have kids. I told her I do and she began to talk about getting married, having her kids and then getting divorced. She said a divorce is not fun, but it was worth it to be able to have her kids. Basically, she told me not to wait for the right guy, but to pick a decent person and have the kids I want. Obviously, I’m paraphrasing and her argument was a little more cohesive (and sort of made sense in some ways…) but she said a lot of women get to 40 and regret never having kids, which is not something they can change at that point.
I’m getting older, but I’m still young enough (or naïve enough?) to believe in love… I figure I can still hold out for it for a couple of years before having to take such a drastic measure. Little Miss Optimist here is not yet ready to throw in the towel (or have to pick it up for someone I don’t plan on spending the rest of my life with!)

The best compliment ever...

I ran into someone the other day who I haven't seen in a long time. When I got done complaining to him that I will be turning (gasp!) 29 in a few days, he said, "You don't look a day over... perfect."
Does it get any better than that?!?