I love yeh. I always have.

TGLETSITCAFM and his wife are talking about getting back together, after they separated for about six months.

I did the "I knew it! I knew it!" dance around the office until he smacked me across the face and I crawled back into my office chair, holding my cheek.

Now someone just needs to break up with all of his lah-dehz. 'Cause the guy has women up and down the Florida coast.

Which begs the question... men in the middle of a separation. Are they ok to date?

Most of us know when it's over. But divorce is an ugly, shape-shifting, energy-draining beast that can leave you spent, and ready to walk away from the next relationship, when it's an otherwise amazing person.

No one wants to be the Transitional Relationship. It's like being the black guy in a Sci-Fi movie. You're doomed to die, usually very early on.

What if the transition really is a just a transition? So the timing's a little off... Can you hang in there and wait for all the details to iron out? Will you be left with a whole and unscarred person?

Is that really possible?

Just askin'.

POTTY!

This week, the Kid decided she was tired of waiting for me to draft a potty training plan, and just started screaming "POTTY!" and ripping off her diaper and running to the bathroom.

She even pulls out her Ikea step and her Sponge Bob potty seat herself, and waves at me from her throne.

Fantastic. :)

We had an amazing holiday weekend, and spent a lot of time outside, looking at plants and bugs. I'm posting some photos that I took over the weekend at our nature center. Even with the planes flying overhead from time to time, I'm really glad we have this place to escape to.

Turkey = joy

Normally, I don't like to eat anything with a face.

But I love Thanksgiving.

I love turkey, stuffing, and cranberries. And I love turkey, stuffing, and cranberries.

Tomorrow morning, I will love turkey, stuffing, and cranberries.
Turkey, stuffing, and cranberries.

Glggagghgaghlllghalghggghaghgaaaaah......

Happy, happy girl.

The Kid's song, which she will only sing spontenously:
(You can't ask her to sing it, because then she just says "No". Even if you start to sing it yourself in the hopes of motivating her, and you have guests you're trying to impress, what happens is you wind up singing the whole song by yourself while she walks off to play with something and your guests look at you like they've been sitting on your sofa for far too long and have suddenly thought of a million other things they could be doing.)

(sung to the tune of "Did you ever see a Lassie?")
Oh, gobble, gobble, gobble,
Fat turkeys, fat turkeys.
Oh, gobble, gobble, gobble,
Fat turkeys are we.
We walk very proudly and gobble so loudly,
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble.
Oh, gobble, gobble, gobble.
Fat turkeys are we.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Get your fork outta my plate.
Grrrr.......

No, sir, I do not know where your wife is.

The holiday rush at the airport has begun.

I've been doing a few long days to get some OT in, and have been spending them in the terminals, moving along the foot traffic and telling people where the bathroom is.

People have been friendly, for the most part, and I've only had one mean drunk so far, although the holiday season, she is young.

The temperature suddenly dropped outside to 41 degrees, and I found myself ripping apart my closet searching desperately for closed-toe shoes. To no avail. Weird, right? Apparently, I only own 17 pairs of flip-flops. And some death heels. I love heels. In the terminal, though, heels are awful when you're pacing back and forth on the hard floor, which I found out yesterday. A hot shower and 3 Alleve later, I was almost walking again.

So now the heat is blasting in my apartment, because although I grew up in New York, I have lived in south Florida for three years and am no longer comfortable when my external temperature dips below 78 degrees. 74, and you'll see me in a jacket.

But Mary, you say, that's just crazy!

Screw you! I yell, and pull my jacket tightly around me.

The Kid learned her first poem at school this week. The teacher said she planned on covering it all month, but the Kid learned it in two days. I asked her about it the other day, and she looked at me for a long time, like the wheels were turning in her head. Then she spoke in very short, patterned sentences, like you would if you were reading a poem to a class of two year olds.

Friends are good
Friends are cool
I have lots of friends in school.

Something, something... I don't know. I was clapping and screaming too much to remember the last three lines. She's reciting her little poem, and she's TWO.

I can't hug and squish this kid enough.

:)

A DAY WITHOUT INTERNET. NO, A HALF-DAY.

I went to the doctor on Friday, and for the first time in my life, my blood pressure was elevated.

I have come to the conclusion that my chest constricts every time the Kid starts whining or screaming. It's amazing to watch.

WHINE! (OW)

WHINE! (OW)

Throws self on ground and starts screaming (OW)

Stands outside shower curtain and screams durning entire duration of shower (OW).

Isn't it amazing how the body works?

I've started using time-outs (for her) and am increasing my daily walks to twice-daily walks. I also threw out my beloved sea salt. Oh, salt, how I love you so.

Someone suggested that I shut off my computer once in a while.

HAH?

Maybe they have a point. My apartment has a louder electronic hum than a nuclear power plant. That can't be doing anything for my stress level. So I shut off the computer. The Kid and I went for a long walk. She took her beaded purse to collect rocks with, so she could throw them down the sewer grate later. I drank lots of water.

I wondered about putting up a bike hook, but did not log on to find one. New curtains for the bedroom? Nope, I just drove to the store.

(Of course, I didn't find what I was looking for.)

Men are dumb.

My work buddy Rich, who usually likes to stand in my cubicle and rub his nipples (Oh, Mary, I don't believe you for a second), went to the hospital today with chest pain. Rich, who has an insanely high cholesterol level, works about 12 hours a day. Another co-worker went to the doctor after not feeling well a couple of weeks ago, found his arteries were severely blocked, and had an angioplasty the next day.

We're talking about this today while Rich is on his way to the hospital, and T starts talking about how his heart hurts sometimes when he exerts himself. What a waste of a Master's Degree, eh?

Me: And what is it that's going on with your dad right now, Boy Genius?

Him: (refusing to make eye contact and trying not to laugh) Umm... he's having some heart problems.

Me: Jackass.

After Angioplasty Guy has a brief chat with T, T agrees to see a doctor.

Uh-huh.

Hooray for Grandma and Grandpa

I love my daughter. I really, and truly love her more than anything else in the universe. She is my sun, my moon, my stars, and I would stand in front of a speeding train for this child, but if my parents didn't take her for a sleepover this evening, I would have gouged out my own eye with cutlery.

I started the evening with a hot bath, pouring in every powdery, bubbly, cristally bathtub additive that I never get to use (but still buy, optimistically) because I don't get time in the bathroom without a little person standing outside the shower curtain, crying.

I opened up my new copy of the Vegetarian Times magazine that I bought while waiting on line at the Boca Whole Foods yesterday, and out pops a photo of the Editor-in-Chief -- my old buddy, Mary Margaret. What?! She looks fantastic.

(She probably doesn't smell as good as I do, though, since I've got about $70 of tub product infused in this water.)

Since the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival is currently going on, I decided to go see a movie after my bath. Gray Matters looked like a good choice for the evening, and I'd never been to the Parker Playhouse, so I threw on some eyeliner and off I went. I was sort of tempted to get McDonald's and go to the drive-in in my pajamas, but I've been complaining about the lack of culture in Fort Lauderdale lately, so I forced myself into the car.

Wow, I'm glad I talked myself out of that bathrobe... people were dressed, there was a bar, and the director was there for the premiere. The playhouse was gorgeous, and I got a book of all the films for the festival, and there are a few more that I'd like to see. My hair smelled delicious. I loved the movie. When I left, I felt like myself again. Someone who left the house, whose hair smelled nice.

I fall in love with me a little bit more every day.

She's been awake for 8 minutes.