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10/18/10
What's In A Name?
Ever since finding out that we're having a baby girl, Tony and I have been on the hunt for possible names. Prior to this week, we hadn't really thought about girl names at all. (Not because we wanted a boy more, or didn't want a girl, but for some reason we automatically agreed on boy names. Girl names have just been a little harder). He said "eh" to 99% of my name suggestions, and I scrunched up my face to 99% of his. We went through baby name websites. We watched movie credits to look for possible names. Family members threw out suggestions.
Turns out that giving someone a moniker that they'll keep for the rest of their lives is HARD.
We have a couple of rules, too. No being named after exes, and no names of any pets that we know. (My mother, immediately after finding out it was a girl, suggested the name of her Yorkie. "Well sweetie, you were named after the family dog". Like that wouldn't cost me in therapy later).
There have been some surprises too. Tony and I were leaning towards the name Sydney, but when we mentioned it to the family, it turned out that my grandfather had a crazy aunt with that name. (I say crazy because apparently she stabbed her husband with a butcher knife. No one is sure if Uncle Stan had it coming or not, but nonetheless, that basically guaranteed that Sydney was out).
New rule: In addition to exes and pets, our daughter will not be named after any homicidal relatives.
So the hunt continues. Long names, short names, common names, unique names, Biblical or contemporary. It's a very important decision. Names shape your personality. (You ever met an outgoing guy named Herbert?) I want a name that will fit her. One that rolls pleasantly off the tongue. One that she's not ashamed of, or that kids can rhyme with something insulting, or that makes initials that spell something stupid. I want one that is common enough that people have heard before so she's not having to constantly correct people's pronunciation, but at the same time, I don't want her to be one of four girls in her class with the exact same name.
So we search, and trade lists of ones we like, and practice yelling them from one end of the house to the other. Good thing we still have several months to find the perfect one for her.
I'm curious. How'd you get your name? (I'm named after a girl my mother babysat when she was 12. She liked the name, so she gave it to me when I came along). Do you like your name? Do you use a nickname? Or go by your middle name? What's your name story, Interpeeps?
Turns out that giving someone a moniker that they'll keep for the rest of their lives is HARD.
We have a couple of rules, too. No being named after exes, and no names of any pets that we know. (My mother, immediately after finding out it was a girl, suggested the name of her Yorkie. "Well sweetie, you were named after the family dog". Like that wouldn't cost me in therapy later).
There have been some surprises too. Tony and I were leaning towards the name Sydney, but when we mentioned it to the family, it turned out that my grandfather had a crazy aunt with that name. (I say crazy because apparently she stabbed her husband with a butcher knife. No one is sure if Uncle Stan had it coming or not, but nonetheless, that basically guaranteed that Sydney was out).
New rule: In addition to exes and pets, our daughter will not be named after any homicidal relatives.
So the hunt continues. Long names, short names, common names, unique names, Biblical or contemporary. It's a very important decision. Names shape your personality. (You ever met an outgoing guy named Herbert?) I want a name that will fit her. One that rolls pleasantly off the tongue. One that she's not ashamed of, or that kids can rhyme with something insulting, or that makes initials that spell something stupid. I want one that is common enough that people have heard before so she's not having to constantly correct people's pronunciation, but at the same time, I don't want her to be one of four girls in her class with the exact same name.
So we search, and trade lists of ones we like, and practice yelling them from one end of the house to the other. Good thing we still have several months to find the perfect one for her.
I'm curious. How'd you get your name? (I'm named after a girl my mother babysat when she was 12. She liked the name, so she gave it to me when I came along). Do you like your name? Do you use a nickname? Or go by your middle name? What's your name story, Interpeeps?
10/15/10
Thank Heaven For Little Girls
It's a girl! We're having a girl!
We just found out yesterday. Technically, the official "anatomy" scan isn't for a few more weeks, but I was in for my 16 week checkup and the technician said that it was very very obviously a girl. (Normally, they don't like to tell you this early since parts can be small and easily missed, but I poked my little monster in the head until she shifted position enough to present some very obvious girl parts to the camera. 99.9% sure, the tech said, so I'm going with that).
(And I shall call her "mini-me"). *Puts Pinkie finger up by mouth, just in case you missed the reference the first time*
I'm not going to lie. A girl is a shock. A good shock, but a shock nonetheless. I guess whenever I pictured having a baby, it was always a boy. I'm not sure why, but I've always only imagined a boy. (It wasn't that I necessarily wanted a boy over a girl...I was just sure that that's what we'd have and that was it).
A girl is good though. Tony's sister just had a girl too, and I know that they'll love playing whenever they get together. (Plus Jenny's already talking about passing along all her 0-3 month clothes that Ms. M has outgrown). And girls are sugar and spice and everything nice, right? Who can go wrong with that?
Oh my goodness, I'm going to have a daughter! It still blows me away.
Tony's thrilled, of course. And in so much trouble. She's going to have him wrapped around her little finger in no time. She's going to be Daddy's little girl, and he's not going to have any idea what hit him. I can't wait to see that.
My daughter.
We just found out yesterday. Technically, the official "anatomy" scan isn't for a few more weeks, but I was in for my 16 week checkup and the technician said that it was very very obviously a girl. (Normally, they don't like to tell you this early since parts can be small and easily missed, but I poked my little monster in the head until she shifted position enough to present some very obvious girl parts to the camera. 99.9% sure, the tech said, so I'm going with that).
(And I shall call her "mini-me"). *Puts Pinkie finger up by mouth, just in case you missed the reference the first time*
I'm not going to lie. A girl is a shock. A good shock, but a shock nonetheless. I guess whenever I pictured having a baby, it was always a boy. I'm not sure why, but I've always only imagined a boy. (It wasn't that I necessarily wanted a boy over a girl...I was just sure that that's what we'd have and that was it).
A girl is good though. Tony's sister just had a girl too, and I know that they'll love playing whenever they get together. (Plus Jenny's already talking about passing along all her 0-3 month clothes that Ms. M has outgrown). And girls are sugar and spice and everything nice, right? Who can go wrong with that?
Oh my goodness, I'm going to have a daughter! It still blows me away.
Tony's thrilled, of course. And in so much trouble. She's going to have him wrapped around her little finger in no time. She's going to be Daddy's little girl, and he's not going to have any idea what hit him. I can't wait to see that.
My daughter.
10/14/10
The 700 Club
Guess what? This is my 700th post! (And you people are still here! That shocks and amazes me!) 700 entire posts of the serious, the mundane, the comical, the ordinary, and the individual little moments that make up my life.
Who would have thunk it?
You know, the infamous "they" say that bloggers are just digital voyeurs. They say that my generation feels the need to constantly draw attention to themselves by scrupulously recording every single thought and emotion and event that happens to them and sharing it with the world. They say we blog because we are whiny and emotionally needy.
"They" don't get it at all.
What you guys are are friends. Maybe friends that I've never physically met, or friends that live far away, but you're still friends. And blogs are just letters, telling my friends about my day, and finding out about yours in return. It's a community. My community. Of my friends.
So I want to thank you, my beloveds. Thank you for reading and commenting and sharing your lives with me. Thanks for the encouragement and the validation, and the laughs, and the thought-provoking messages that we share. I am a better person for getting to share with you, and having you share with me. Thanks for being there through 700 talks.
Who would have thunk it?
You know, the infamous "they" say that bloggers are just digital voyeurs. They say that my generation feels the need to constantly draw attention to themselves by scrupulously recording every single thought and emotion and event that happens to them and sharing it with the world. They say we blog because we are whiny and emotionally needy.
"They" don't get it at all.
What you guys are are friends. Maybe friends that I've never physically met, or friends that live far away, but you're still friends. And blogs are just letters, telling my friends about my day, and finding out about yours in return. It's a community. My community. Of my friends.
So I want to thank you, my beloveds. Thank you for reading and commenting and sharing your lives with me. Thanks for the encouragement and the validation, and the laughs, and the thought-provoking messages that we share. I am a better person for getting to share with you, and having you share with me. Thanks for being there through 700 talks.
10/13/10
WW: But I Thought You Said I Was Your Baby!
We recently acquired an infant carrier for the coming addition, but I think the cats missed the point.
But I'm your baby, right?
Hey! What a great new sleeping spot! Thanks, guys!
But I'm your baby, right?
Hey! What a great new sleeping spot! Thanks, guys!
10/7/10
It's Thursday, So Of Course It's Random
Ready for some randomness? You have come to the right place!
I'm seriously jonesing for some Chic-fil-a right now. Enough that I may even change out of my morning blog reading robe and actually put on enough clothes that they'll let me in the door. And yes, I'm sure there's plenty of stuff to eat here at the house that would 1) be cheaper and 2) be healthier and 3) not require a full wardrobe change, but I'm really leaning towards the "I don't care" camp. The chic-fil-a, it calls to me.
Mama needs some chicken with extra pickle on a buttered bun goodness.
*******
Didn't I hear somewhere that pregnancy is supposed to clear up your skin and make your complexion look great? I seem to recall hearing that somewhere. (Or else I just made it up and convinced myself that I heard it somewhere else. Whichever). Either way, I'm not seeing it. In fact, I have two very lovely flashing red beacons that have just decided to time-share on my forehead. (Of COURSE you want to know about my blemishes! This kind of over-sharing is what the internet was made for!) Anyway, they're about an inch apart, and smack-dab in the middle of my head, so it looks very much like I was out stomping through the jungle with Bear Grylls and took a snake bite right between the eyes. It's a very peculiar look, and one that I'm hoping will catch on. "What? You're still doing Botox? You simply MUST try rattlesnake poison, dah-ling! One bite and wrinkles will be the least of your worries!"
*********
Did you hear how Frito-lay is ditching the noisy Sun Chips bag? So many people complained that the company is going back to the old planet-choking bag for 5 of the 6 flavors. Only the original flavor will still be in the bio-degradable noisemakers. (Because only people who like the original want to save the planet?) Now, I admit that the crinkles were annoying and that Tony has officially banned my eating Sun chips in bed (although that may have been more about the crumbs than the noisy bag), but really? The ability to eat chips quietly trumps ecological stewardship? I have a feeling this is the kind of thing that future generations will look back on and roll their eyes about. "Yes, we live in a giant landfill now, but at least granddad was able to eat his chip quietly!" Sun chips should have made the noise a selling point, a "Crinkle for the Cause" if you will. Let everyone within a 100 mile radius know that you love the planet (and Sun Chips)! There could be bumper stickers: I crinkle because I care.
********
I'm thinking about cutting my hair. It is a very bad idea and I know it, but I'm thinking about it anyway. Just something to shake things up a bit, for I have been in what feels like an eternal ponytail rut. The problem is short hair does not work for me (my natural curl needs the weight to force it into submission…otherwise I end up with a little orphan Annie style ‘fro). But even though I KNOW I’m going to regret it, I’m still itching for a change. It is the siren call of sassy hair.
********
Alright, my lovelies (I threw that in just for you Nicole-may you be spiritual enough to accept it), the randomness has been fun but I must depart. There is cat food to purchase and stamps to procure. (And maybe some chic-fil-a in between...gotta keep my strength up, you know). It is an ever exciting life I lead.
I'm seriously jonesing for some Chic-fil-a right now. Enough that I may even change out of my morning blog reading robe and actually put on enough clothes that they'll let me in the door. And yes, I'm sure there's plenty of stuff to eat here at the house that would 1) be cheaper and 2) be healthier and 3) not require a full wardrobe change, but I'm really leaning towards the "I don't care" camp. The chic-fil-a, it calls to me.
Mama needs some chicken with extra pickle on a buttered bun goodness.
*******
Didn't I hear somewhere that pregnancy is supposed to clear up your skin and make your complexion look great? I seem to recall hearing that somewhere. (Or else I just made it up and convinced myself that I heard it somewhere else. Whichever). Either way, I'm not seeing it. In fact, I have two very lovely flashing red beacons that have just decided to time-share on my forehead. (Of COURSE you want to know about my blemishes! This kind of over-sharing is what the internet was made for!) Anyway, they're about an inch apart, and smack-dab in the middle of my head, so it looks very much like I was out stomping through the jungle with Bear Grylls and took a snake bite right between the eyes. It's a very peculiar look, and one that I'm hoping will catch on. "What? You're still doing Botox? You simply MUST try rattlesnake poison, dah-ling! One bite and wrinkles will be the least of your worries!"
*********
Did you hear how Frito-lay is ditching the noisy Sun Chips bag? So many people complained that the company is going back to the old planet-choking bag for 5 of the 6 flavors. Only the original flavor will still be in the bio-degradable noisemakers. (Because only people who like the original want to save the planet?) Now, I admit that the crinkles were annoying and that Tony has officially banned my eating Sun chips in bed (although that may have been more about the crumbs than the noisy bag), but really? The ability to eat chips quietly trumps ecological stewardship? I have a feeling this is the kind of thing that future generations will look back on and roll their eyes about. "Yes, we live in a giant landfill now, but at least granddad was able to eat his chip quietly!" Sun chips should have made the noise a selling point, a "Crinkle for the Cause" if you will. Let everyone within a 100 mile radius know that you love the planet (and Sun Chips)! There could be bumper stickers: I crinkle because I care.
********
I'm thinking about cutting my hair. It is a very bad idea and I know it, but I'm thinking about it anyway. Just something to shake things up a bit, for I have been in what feels like an eternal ponytail rut. The problem is short hair does not work for me (my natural curl needs the weight to force it into submission…otherwise I end up with a little orphan Annie style ‘fro). But even though I KNOW I’m going to regret it, I’m still itching for a change. It is the siren call of sassy hair.
********
Alright, my lovelies (I threw that in just for you Nicole-may you be spiritual enough to accept it), the randomness has been fun but I must depart. There is cat food to purchase and stamps to procure. (And maybe some chic-fil-a in between...gotta keep my strength up, you know). It is an ever exciting life I lead.
10/4/10
The List
You know how you're in the house, doing whatever, and you realize that you're almost out of X product that you were doing the whatever with, and you're all, "We need some more of this. I need to write this down on the official Wal-marts list", but the list for the Mart of Wal is all the way in the other room so you're like, "Honey? Remind me to pick up some more X next time we're at Walmart" and he's all "Okay!" but you know he won't because he said it without ever taking his eyes off of the football game on TV so you know it went in one ear and out the other? And then later you ARE in the same room with Wal-mart list and you can't for the life of you remember what X was, even though you can remember that you need SOS pot scrubbing pads and more deodorant, although you already wrote those two down and you know, just KNOW that there was a third mystery thing? And you're like, "Honey? What was that thing that I said to remember?" and he's like, "SOS pads!" and you're like, "No. That wasn't it. You told me that we were out of SOS pads. What was the thing I told you?" and he's like, "Ummmmm. SOS pads?" so that's no help there. And for the entire rest of the day, the ghost of product X bugs you, taunting you from the very corner of your mind, until about 3am when you rocket out of a deep sleep and sit straight up in bed and shout "Febreeze Upholstery Spray!" at the top of your lungs, probably waking the neighbors, but who cares about them really since more than once their doofus teen-aged son has come home in the wee hours of the morning without his house key and awakened you with all his infernal door banging? And anyway, this is a moment because the prodigal brain has returned and brought the elusive Product X with it! It's all so clear now! You can remember anything! And you must share this triumph, so in all of your excitement you lean over and shake your dear sleeping list-forgetting husband and whisper "Febreeze!" in his ear so that he too can marvel at your amazing mental recall, only instead of celebrating with you properly, his way of marking this momentous occasion is apparently to just roll over in his sleep and murmur, "And SOS pads. Don't forget those".
10/3/10
10 Reasons
I saw this one on another blog and thought I'd give it a whirl. Beats what I was going to blog about, which was whining about how the football gods done treated my poor Tennessee Vols so, so wrong. (I'm still depressed. And yes, I'm taking it personally).
Anyway.
Here goes:
10 Reasons I'm Glad it's Fall:
10. Wearing jeans all the time now means I don't have to shave my legsas often anymore.
9. Boot season means you can get away with wearing that one pair of weird socks with the stripes that you purchased in a moment of temporary insanity and no one will ever know.
8. 2 words. Halloween Candy. I love a world where I can be anywhere in a grocery store and still be within two steps of the Twix fun size bars.
7. For better or worse, I still consider the hoodie the best fashion invention ever.
6. Sleeping with the windows open allows all the loose cat hair to blow out. It's like nature's way of dusting for me while I sleep!
5. Sweatshirts never need ironing.
4. Bonfires. And s'mores. And setting marshmallows on fire while you just eat the chocolate bar and ignore the graham crackers completely.
3. Crock pot meals! My idea of "home cooking" is tossing various ingredients into the slow cooker and letting that bad boy go to town for 8 or 10 hours.
2. All the weeds in my yard call it a season and give up the ghost (until next spring anyway).
1. There's always another football game next week. Even if a certain team played their little hearts out against LSU, only to win and then get it called back on a penalty for too many men on the field OF ALL THINGS. We had that stinky LSU team beat I tell you! But at least there's always next week.
How about you? Is it feeling like fall where you are yet? What's on your top 10 list?
Anyway.
Here goes:
10 Reasons I'm Glad it's Fall:
10. Wearing jeans all the time now means I don't have to shave my legs
9. Boot season means you can get away with wearing that one pair of weird socks with the stripes that you purchased in a moment of temporary insanity and no one will ever know.
8. 2 words. Halloween Candy. I love a world where I can be anywhere in a grocery store and still be within two steps of the Twix fun size bars.
7. For better or worse, I still consider the hoodie the best fashion invention ever.
6. Sleeping with the windows open allows all the loose cat hair to blow out. It's like nature's way of dusting for me while I sleep!
5. Sweatshirts never need ironing.
4. Bonfires. And s'mores. And setting marshmallows on fire while you just eat the chocolate bar and ignore the graham crackers completely.
3. Crock pot meals! My idea of "home cooking" is tossing various ingredients into the slow cooker and letting that bad boy go to town for 8 or 10 hours.
2. All the weeds in my yard call it a season and give up the ghost (until next spring anyway).
1. There's always another football game next week. Even if a certain team played their little hearts out against LSU, only to win and then get it called back on a penalty for too many men on the field OF ALL THINGS. We had that stinky LSU team beat I tell you! But at least there's always next week.
How about you? Is it feeling like fall where you are yet? What's on your top 10 list?
9/28/10
The Only Time I've Ever Wished For A Belly
This was on my BabyCenter weekly newsletter this week, and it was so me that I had to laugh. 14 weeks, exactly one pound gained and not even a hint of baby bump. People keep asking, "Are you SUUUUUUURE you're pregnant?" Oh well. I should probably be thankful that I don't have to lug around all that extra weight yet, but I do have to say it feels weird to be sitting in the Dr's waiting room, surrounded by giant bellies, and be the only one with a completely flat stomach. 
9/27/10
Oooo, You Make Me Live
Don't you hate it when you make a big stink about something and it turns out that you are double-dead wrong?
And then you have to slink in and eat some crow and pay $30 for a book covered in grossness?
Yeah, me too.
See, I've been having a fight with my local library. (It pains me to even type that because the library and I are BFFs, and up until now we've been seeing each other several times a week, and all the librarians and checkout volunteers know me by name and what kind of reading kick I've been on lately. And it's been years of tea parties and sleepovers and slow-motion romping through daisies together while the Best Friend song from Queen plays in the background). But there comes a time in every friendship where someone gets mad over a misunderstanding (or a little mysterious yellow stuff) and those friends quit speaking for a while.
It all started innocently enough. I checked out a book. I read said book. I returned said book along with several other books through the after-hours book drop. Life was good. But then! Then! One day out of the blue, my BFF library sent me a nasty note. And it said that I had grievously slighted them by spilling "yellow stuff" all over a book and now it was ruined and I owed them $30 for a new book or they wouldn't be my bestest friend anymore SO THERE!
And I, reacting a bit strongly to the idea of my library breaking up with me over a horribly false accusation, called them up to be like, "What yellow stuff!?! I didn't spill any yellow stuff on any book! I would never do that to a book! You're a dirty dirty fibber, and I don't want to be friends with dirty fibbers SO THERE!"
And then the library yelled "Fine!" and I yelled "Fine!" and then we both slammed some doors and went home to play by ourselves. (Metaphorically speaking anyway...in actuality, the library and I were both professional adults where I exclaimed confused but polite dismay and the library professed apologetic but polite insistence and we were both very polite about the whole thing. But the underlying feeling of door slamming was there).
In my head, "yellow stuff" looked like French's mustard, which I do not eat, so why would I smear it all over a book? Why would the library claim such lies about me? Actually, it wouldn't surprise me at all if it was actually the library's fault! They're trying to set me up! I left the book safely in the book drop. Maybe some grubby-handed child visited the library and was playing in the book drop receptacle! Maybe some careless volunteer was eating a mustard sandwich on rye while checking in books and got some on the cover! Formally-bff library is trying to make me the fall guy!
So I sat in my room alone for a few days, feeling abused and missing the library terribly but refusing to admit it, and the library did the same. (Oh sure, they have other patrons, but none of them are BFFs like me). And for a while I tried to make new friends with Borders and Barnes and Noble, but they were more interested in a commercial relationship with me rather than one where they let me read their books for free. And it was horribly lonely.
Then one day a few days later, the library left a message on my answering machine, cautiously suggesting that I come in and see mysterious yellow stuff for myself. It wasn't exactly an overture of friendship, mind you, but at this point I was desperate to see them again, so I agreed.
Driving over, I told myself that if the library admitted that they were wrong, I would take them back graciously. If I told them that I had nothing to do with the yellow stuff and they believed me, then we would put this whole ugly mess behind us. If they said they were sorry and they wanted to be my friend again, I would immediately check out 8 books and make us matching "Friends forever" bracelets. Overall, I was feeling very benevolent and forgiving about the whole thing.
And then I saw the "yellow stuff" they were talking about.
Which sucked, because I recognized it instantly.
And it meant that I was 100% in the wrong, and the library was right.
Darnit.
It was not French's mustard. It was a little thing we like to call kitty barf. And since the library does not have any cats, it was a pretty safe bet that it came from my house, where there are several little furry barf factories of the feline persuasion running amok and having full access to library books. I have no idea why I didn't see it when I scooped the books up to return them, but I didn't. And so I gave the library a hairball-covered book. Mea culpa.
Of course, there was nothing to do after that other than to hang my head and apologize profusely while paying the library $30 for their new book. I am a bad book renter. I do not have the proper respect for the written word. I let my four-legged charges abuse a Times best-seller. I do not deserve to be the library's friend.
The library, however, would hear none of it. (Oh, they still took my $30, but there was no reason to beat myself up over it). These things happen, they said! Who can control kitty barf, they said! Of course you are forgiven! The library has a new book, and I have a commemorative barf-covered one. We shall speak of the matter no more. Bestest best friends again.
So we are back. Braiding each other's hair, passing notes in Social studies, and delivering those hard to find books through the inter-library loan system. And I have learned an important lesson about not being overly defensive, and checking my books carefully before returning them, and keeping loaned books at least two feet off the floor so kitties can't get to them.
Cue the Queen music.
And then you have to slink in and eat some crow and pay $30 for a book covered in grossness?
Yeah, me too.
See, I've been having a fight with my local library. (It pains me to even type that because the library and I are BFFs, and up until now we've been seeing each other several times a week, and all the librarians and checkout volunteers know me by name and what kind of reading kick I've been on lately. And it's been years of tea parties and sleepovers and slow-motion romping through daisies together while the Best Friend song from Queen plays in the background). But there comes a time in every friendship where someone gets mad over a misunderstanding (or a little mysterious yellow stuff) and those friends quit speaking for a while.
It all started innocently enough. I checked out a book. I read said book. I returned said book along with several other books through the after-hours book drop. Life was good. But then! Then! One day out of the blue, my BFF library sent me a nasty note. And it said that I had grievously slighted them by spilling "yellow stuff" all over a book and now it was ruined and I owed them $30 for a new book or they wouldn't be my bestest friend anymore SO THERE!
And I, reacting a bit strongly to the idea of my library breaking up with me over a horribly false accusation, called them up to be like, "What yellow stuff!?! I didn't spill any yellow stuff on any book! I would never do that to a book! You're a dirty dirty fibber, and I don't want to be friends with dirty fibbers SO THERE!"
And then the library yelled "Fine!" and I yelled "Fine!" and then we both slammed some doors and went home to play by ourselves. (Metaphorically speaking anyway...in actuality, the library and I were both professional adults where I exclaimed confused but polite dismay and the library professed apologetic but polite insistence and we were both very polite about the whole thing. But the underlying feeling of door slamming was there).
In my head, "yellow stuff" looked like French's mustard, which I do not eat, so why would I smear it all over a book? Why would the library claim such lies about me? Actually, it wouldn't surprise me at all if it was actually the library's fault! They're trying to set me up! I left the book safely in the book drop. Maybe some grubby-handed child visited the library and was playing in the book drop receptacle! Maybe some careless volunteer was eating a mustard sandwich on rye while checking in books and got some on the cover! Formally-bff library is trying to make me the fall guy!
So I sat in my room alone for a few days, feeling abused and missing the library terribly but refusing to admit it, and the library did the same. (Oh sure, they have other patrons, but none of them are BFFs like me). And for a while I tried to make new friends with Borders and Barnes and Noble, but they were more interested in a commercial relationship with me rather than one where they let me read their books for free. And it was horribly lonely.
Then one day a few days later, the library left a message on my answering machine, cautiously suggesting that I come in and see mysterious yellow stuff for myself. It wasn't exactly an overture of friendship, mind you, but at this point I was desperate to see them again, so I agreed.
Driving over, I told myself that if the library admitted that they were wrong, I would take them back graciously. If I told them that I had nothing to do with the yellow stuff and they believed me, then we would put this whole ugly mess behind us. If they said they were sorry and they wanted to be my friend again, I would immediately check out 8 books and make us matching "Friends forever" bracelets. Overall, I was feeling very benevolent and forgiving about the whole thing.
And then I saw the "yellow stuff" they were talking about.
Which sucked, because I recognized it instantly.
And it meant that I was 100% in the wrong, and the library was right.
Darnit.
It was not French's mustard. It was a little thing we like to call kitty barf. And since the library does not have any cats, it was a pretty safe bet that it came from my house, where there are several little furry barf factories of the feline persuasion running amok and having full access to library books. I have no idea why I didn't see it when I scooped the books up to return them, but I didn't. And so I gave the library a hairball-covered book. Mea culpa.
Of course, there was nothing to do after that other than to hang my head and apologize profusely while paying the library $30 for their new book. I am a bad book renter. I do not have the proper respect for the written word. I let my four-legged charges abuse a Times best-seller. I do not deserve to be the library's friend.
The library, however, would hear none of it. (Oh, they still took my $30, but there was no reason to beat myself up over it). These things happen, they said! Who can control kitty barf, they said! Of course you are forgiven! The library has a new book, and I have a commemorative barf-covered one. We shall speak of the matter no more. Bestest best friends again.
So we are back. Braiding each other's hair, passing notes in Social studies, and delivering those hard to find books through the inter-library loan system. And I have learned an important lesson about not being overly defensive, and checking my books carefully before returning them, and keeping loaned books at least two feet off the floor so kitties can't get to them.
Cue the Queen music.