Still life

Tonight, New Year's Eve 2007, I am sleeping in the room I slept in growing up. It's now my dad's office, but my feet look right at home.

525,600 minutes

How do you measure a year?

Like the song says (and you know this if you know the musical "Rent") there are 525,600 minutes in a year. But we all tend to measure time in different ways, at different times.

Looking back at 2007, I think I will measure it by ...

Hugs
Water fights
Curtain calls
Cinammon rolls
Tears
Snowstorms
Unexpected kisses
Movies
Naps
Get-ups
Belly laughs
Pedicures
Bruises
Connections
Tamales
Coffee
Ninjas
Successes
Failures
Arguments
Miunderstandings
Opportunities
Ninth-grade nights

No doubt there are more, units of measure I can't recall now. But as I sit here, looking out at the possibilities of 2008, I am hopeful and a little bit scared. And yet, that's not gonna stop me from plunging headlong into what may be. 2007 was good to me, and I hope it was to you, too. So raise a glass, or a coffee cup, or a chocolate chip muffin, and together let's bid 2007 adieu as we welcome 2008 and everything it has to offer.

May we look back in 527,040 minutes (2008's a leap year) in gratitude for one another, joy for having shared another year together, and anticipation of what comes next. Salud!

One more get-up

That's all that's left - one more get-up. One more time the alarm will ring before I head for Disney World. Granted, I don't leave until Tuesday, but there's only one ore day when I have to be somewhere on schedule, one more time I have to march to the beat of someone else's drummer.

Then, I'm in vacation mode. For 12 blissful days. Vacation mode.

It's a little scary, because it means a full week with people with whom I share DNA, and these people are really quite wacky. But I will rise to the occasion, I will not let them get to me, and I will have fun. How could I not have fun - I'll be in the happiest place on earth!

Christmas Wishes

It's Christmas. Today was full of memories, old and new. I can't remember the last time I was awake at dawn surrounded by children eagerly anticipating the discovery of what Santa left for them. Along with celebrating with the kids, and acting like one myself, I enjoyed lots of hugs, cinammon rolls, my favorite cookies that I haven't had since Mom died (one of my sisters found the recipe) and a feud-free holiday.

And so, in keeping with the joy of the day, I thought I would share with you my Christmas wishes.

May you know that you are loved, that your friendship brightens my days and makes me smile. May you grow to love me more and love me, anyway, as I am sure to grow in love for you.

May I be a blessing to your life, and may you know you are a blessing in mine.

May you be fulfilled in your work, in your relationships, and in life.

May optimism outweigh pessimism. May laughter outweigh tears. May you find beatiful shoes on sale, in your size.

But most of all, may hugs be abundant, kisses be meaningful, support be felt, imagination be nourished, your soul be fed and your heart be full.

Merry Christmas. May the hope of this season live within you throughout the coming year.

What you give

Kelly and I went shopping today. At Woodfield Mall in Schaumburg. It was not an original idea. Everyone else in the Chicago suburbs seemed to have the same idea.

It was so crazy, I didn't bother to try and find a parking place. I valeted it. Yes, I turned my keys over to a stranger. It was worth the $6 plus tip.

We ate at Cheesecake Factory (sheer ambrosia, lemme tell ya) and ventured out into the mall. And everywhere we went, I felt like Kelly and I were somehow able to bring joy to an otherwise stressful night in retail. Employees and fellow shoppers alike responded to us. The guy shopping in Eddie Bauer let me touch his hair. The girl in Hot Topic could not believe that I asked her how she was doing. And the entire staff of The Body Shop seemed unwilling to let us shop elsewhere.

And it occurred to me, it costs us nothing to relate to one another. To look each other in the eye. To smile instead of scowl. And at the end of the night, aching bodies and all, we felt like we had gotten something other than bags of gifts. We got back every smile, every happy greeting, every laid-back moment we gave. It was magical.

Really. Just ask the valet. I think he liked being both tipped AND hugged.

A Holiday Haiku

Christmas almost here
but rain is in the forecast
No white Chrismas. Poop.

One week

One week from today is Christmas, and I haven't even really started shopping. I don't think I'm going to. Does that make me a Grinch, or worse yet, Scrooge? I don't think so. Not when you consider Christmas 2006.

A year ago, I hadn't yet started working. It had been over a year since I had a full-time job. I had been hired to do the job I currently hold (yay!) but I was not slated to start until January 8. Needless to say, the money was tight. So I made most of my gifts. It was the most enjoyable, meaningful, and heartfelt Christmas in memory.

Because of that experience, my entire approach has changed. I am not caught up in the incessant need to buy something for everyone I've ever met. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed picking things up here and there for the people I love, but I haven't been inside a mall since early November. (I will, however, be going on Saturday. Wanna come along?) I want to enjoy the magic; I do not want to purchase it.

That realization seemed to wake the Ghost of Christmas Past. At Christmastime with Christopher, the season was greeted with a list. Now, I never felt I had to fulfill the list, but the list was daunting. The items stayed on his list, year after year, until they were received. A computer. A video game system. Oh, there were smaller items, too, and many of them. I remember thinking it was a good thing we didn't have children, because I was already buying for a really big one.

Our final year together, Christmas 2005, I had recently been let go from my job. And still, I had the list. Between Christmas and his birthday (in January) I purchased every item on that list. Finally, I had fulfilled his every wish.

Clearly, that left him with no reason to stay.

So I approach Christmas with this strange amalgam of melancholy, nostalgia and fear. But there is also the deep feeling of peace that comes from knowing that everyone I love wants only one thing from me this Christmas ... my time. It is enough for the people in my life to have me in their midst. Anything more is simply a beautifully-wrapped bonus.

The long way home

Snow. And more snow. And even more snow.

I spent Saturday at Dale's making tamales. And by "Saturday," I do mean all day Saturday. Pork shoulder, braised in this incredible sauce ... the house smelled completely unbelievable. Dale soaked the corn husks, heated the banana leaves, mixed the masa ... he did allow me to do the dishes, shred the pork and tie some of the tamales.

And they were delicious. Combined with the roasted corn & poblano soup, it was the perfect meal.

But all day long, and well into the night, it snowed. Liesje brought her daughter Rachael over, and she and I went sledding, and had sword fights with icicles. No, I don't care that I'm not a nine-year-old girl; you're never too old to play in the snow. At a little after midnight, I decided to head for home. The weather had eased, there was no more snow falling and the roads were clear. So I headed south.

All was fine until I turned left at Whiskey Corners in Richmond. And then, the snow began again in full force. I couldn't see much at all - the road was white and the air was white and all my headlights seemed to illuminate was the snow. Whenever it seemed to get better, it lasted only a few moments before it all turned white again. I thought to myself, "I have got to get out of this. I have got to pull over and wait it out."

Thankfully, I was only a few miles away from the Original Margaret Rathunde. It was 1:30 a.m., but I knew if I called, I would be welcomed at Christopher's mother's house. It took about a half hour to get to her home in Antioch, and I was finally safe. When I got out of the car, I hurt all over because I'd been so tense the entire drive. It felt so good to be able to relax.

The house was quiet, so I tucked myself into the couch and slept until morning. When I woke up, I felt so completely overwhelmed by the events of the previous night. I was frightened and in a potentially dangerous situation, and because someone I love lives along the way, I had a port in the storm. And because of that, I am now home, warm, safe and happy. And from my vantage point in the penthouse in Arlington Heights, the snow doesn't look nearly as intimidating as it was in the wee hours of the morning.

Love the spuds

Sure, I went to karaoke tonight. Amber was here, so of course I went. But frankly, it's all about the potato pancakes.

Kelly works at Harry's in Lake Geneva, where Louie makes potato pancakes. And Louie loves me, ergo I just ate potato pancakes. I am in my happy place. And tomorrow, I get tamales a'la Dale ... it's a very food weekend.

So, anyway, I went to karaoke. Way fun. I sang one of Amber's songs - "Who Knew" by Pink. About halfway through the first verse, I started really hearing the lyrics.

"I took your words, and I believed
In everything you said to me
Yeah huh, that's right"

It became a very angry song.

"If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out, cause they're all wrong
I know better, cause you said forever
and ever ...
who knew?"

It was fun. It was cathartic. I hope next time I sing it, I know it a little better.

Anyhoo, it was a very fun evening with not a lot of singers but a lot of great songs. Angel, Cheryl, Amber, Kelly and I were pretty much the entire rotation (and yes, I'm conspicuously leaving out the creepy guy.) We sang lots of new stuff, a couple of Christmas songs (yay, Kelly!) and Joanne even whipped of a perfect rendition of "Tequila."

But now, I'm tired, and I have to be at Dale's early tomorrow for TamaleFest II, Electric Boogaloo. So, until next time, Gentle Reader, good night. (Wait, there are more potato pancakes in the kitchen ...)

The countdown

Only nine more get-ups until I go to Disney World!

I leave on January 1.

I have one more get-up this week, five next week, and three the week of Christmas. Then it's me, the warmth of Orlando, (did I mention that right now it's 72 degrees there?) and the magic of Disney.

I was telling one of my co-workers about my trip, and I told her that it's been almost two years since I've been to the House of Mouse. That's the longest I've gone without a trip to Disney in my adult life. This is also the longest I've ever been single.

To which Mary Jo said, "Well, you have the mouse for that. And really, there's only room for one rat in your life right?"

I'm still laughing

At any rate, only nine more get-ups. What do you want me to bring you?

Christmas Wrapping

Do you know the song? It's one of the few Christmas songs that Christopher actually enjoyed - circa 1981, by The Waitresses. I love the song - it's just very playful.

So imagine how much it tickled me when my favorite ex-wife-in-law (that would be Elaina, Christopher's first wife) called and left me a message that went something like this:

I just heard a little Christmas song that reminded me of you, I don't know if you're familiar with it - Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses? Well, it made me think of you and then it made me chuckle so I had to call. What if you there's this fabulous guy who just happens to hold dual citizenship in some fabulous country where you can travel all year long ... and you meet, over the cranberry sauce.

I saved the message. It makes me smile. Because, hey, if it's good enough for an 80's Christmas tune, it's good enough for me.

So deck those halls, trim those trees
Raise up cups of Christmas cheer,
I just need to catch my breath,
Christmas by myself this year
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Couldn't miss this one this year!

The magic

I have always known that December holds magic. As a child, there was the magic of Dad's voice, singing "We Need a Little Christmas" in his booming bass, a signal that it was time to decorate the house. We'd get out the ceramic Santa boots, the ornaments that have been around forever, the garland and penguin ornaments that went around the wagon wheel that hung over the fireplace, and the old paper mache nativity set complete with Mary's chipped nose. We used to drive Mom crazy with the nativity - some years, Mary had twins ... or we'd sneak other animals into the creche, like a bunny, or an owl, or a dog, or all three.

The magic of church during December always gave me chills. Lighting the Advent wreath, singing carols ... I have such memories of standing in "our" pew together as a family, singing in near-perfect four-part harmony.

Christmas Eve holds the most magic, for me. It's my favorite day of the entire year. When I was a teenager, it was the one night of the entire year that I felt beautiful - it was as if the night took over and I became someone else. My sisters and I would spend hours getting ready for church - a long bath, curlers in our hair, a new dress courtesy of Grandma Streede, new pajamas before bed (the one gift we could open on Christmas Eve, from Dad.) It was simply magic.

And today, that magic is still alive. My neighborhood is covered in a a sheet of ice, but from my seat in downtown Arlington Heights everything looks llike it's covered in sugar ... and I've watched several people magically fall on their fannies walking down the sidewalk!

It's Christmastime in the city, and it's magical.

I've learned ...

• family has nothing to do with blood
• some people are dependable, some are not, and it's important to know the difference
• Kelly is my person, and it's supposed to be that way
• love expands like a rubber band; the further away you go, the stronger you feel it
• that first sip of coffee is my favorite moment of almost every day
• I can still hurt for the people who have hurt me beyond description
• a genuine smile is much more beautiful than a phony one
• people who tell you "God only gives you what you can handle" truly deserve a kick in the ass
• I can get past it, but I may never be over it
• low self esteem and the need for someone else to make you happy often go hand in hand
• the power to hurt deeply is part of the package deal of loving deeply
• a dog's wet nose in the palm of your hand can cure almost anything
• to love is to risk honesty
• regrets are a waste of time
• sometimes, you have to let go
• trust is easily given, easily broken, and difficult to regain
• yes is more fun than no

One big flake

Yesterday at about 5 p.m., the snow began to fall. It's winter in Chicagoland, ladies and gentlemen. My drive home was interesting, to say the least. Not bad, just long. People forget how to drive, I think, when it snows.

And it kept falling.

And falling.

At about 9 p.m., I put on my old boots (the same ones I've had since college, the ones I wore when Mike and I walked to the video store through about a foot of fresh snow, the ones that made me realize that "waterproof" doesn't count if the snow is higher than the top of your boots) and went for a walk.

It was so quiet, as if the fresh coating of snow insulated my neighborhood. The only sounds I heard were my footsteps and the faraway scrape of the snowplow. I stopped walking, tilted my head back and caught snowflakes on my tongue.

I stopped at the park and sat on the swings for a couple of minutes, swaying back and forth in the moonlight as the snow fell all around me. It was beautiful, and peaceful.

Soon, it was time to head home. I walked slowly down the middle of the street, enjoying the sound of my footsteps in the new-fallen snow. I giggled to myself - a grown woman, wandering the streets of Arlington Heights alone on a snowy night, catching snowflakes on her tongue, playing at the playground. My inner child smiled, and went inside for a cup of cocoa. My inner adult loved the fact that it had Rumpleminze in it.

The rest of the weekend

After the birthday bash on Friday night, I honestly felt like I might be partied out ... but I drove to Wisconsin, anyway, for Misfits' Thanksgiving.

The drive was interesting. I think I got out of the house just in time to miss the worst of the storm. You know, the part with the ice. I got to Amber's and spent the rest of the day warm and happy that I wasn't still on the road.

As the misfits gathered around the table, it seemed as though we all felt truly thankful. Brought together by nothing more than a feeling of acceptance for one another, we feasted on ham and side dishes that made our bellies nearly explode. Looking around the table, I felt a surge of joy. There was Amber, beaming from within a home filled with love. Liz, who had travelled the furthest to connect with her family. Kelly and Kevin, the unofficial parents of the group, and Drew, Aubri and Kristofer, who kept it interesting. Drew's friend Chris, who towers over us but seems to want to blend in. Aimee and Jason, an eclectic couple if ever there was one. The combination of people made for conversation, laughter and song.

By the way, the acoustics in Amber's great room are really quite something!

We played games, drank cocoa, relaxed and just enjoyed one another's company. When it was past time to head for bed, none of us were ready. But we were content to have shared a thankful day together.

Sunday brought me to the traditional Rathunde family un-Thanksgiving. It was weird. It was tense. It was small, as my ex chose not to attend. It was so good to see Marge, and Buzz and Terra, and Jack, Dianna and their kids ... it was good to be there, together as a family, and yet it was sad, because the family that once was just isn't there anymore.

That's life, of course. We grow, we change, we make choices and live with the consequences. And with a little luck, we don't have to do it alone.

One singular sensation, with vegetation

My baby niece turned one yesterday.

She is one full year of joy, giggles and mayhem. When she (along with Mom & Dad, aka Rae & Mike) was here just two weeks ago, she was just starting to get the hang of walking, doing that whole Franken-baby thing where every step threatens to cause butt and floor to meet. But not anymore - do not get in this kid's way, because she will take you down.

And the giggle. The kid giggles like she's up to something, all the time. Clearly, she gets this from her father's side.

We had set aside this day to celebrate Kaylee's birthday and put up and decorate my Christmas tree. In the morning, we had cinammon rolls and coffee, and then I baked Kaylee's second 1st birthday cake. This one was red velvet with whipped cream frosting. And I sang to Kaylee. "One," from the musical A Chorus Line. She likes it when I sing to her. I think it's because she remembers my voice from in the womb. This precious bundle is a singular sensation.

The night before, Mike had been an angel and helped me go through my decorations and organize my storage unit. Now it was time to put up the tree. Would've been an easy task, if only I'd remembered where the stand was. Nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the friendly folks at Ace down the street had a replacement. Did you know they made replacement stands for artificial trees? I didn't. It made me happy.

Speaking of angels, I have one atop my tree. It was made by the Rice family while they were visiting with my CharlieDad and the brothers and sister. The wings were traced from Kaylee's hands, the design is Mike's inimitable artwork, and the painting was done by the whole crew. The paint itself belonged to my SueMom, Mike's mother and the woman who served as a surrogate mom to me through college and beyond. She's been gone now for several Christmases, but she's a big part of my tree. I have ornaments made by her that bring me a special joy, and now an angel, painted with her supplies. She looks perfect atop my tree. She represents the love of my extended family.

Cute Brian came over, and we celebrated the birthday. Kaylee celebrated by playing with her cake. She was very good at it, and seemed to especially enjoy the slippery feeling of whipped cream frosting beneath her feet. To say the least, a bath was taken and laundry was done. Red velevet cake stains.

Kaylee wound down and went to sleep, leaving four old friends to decorate the tree. As the ornaments were hung - no two rocking horses too close to each other, and please don't put the crystal snowflakes all together, either - I was a bit overcome by the love. There was so much of it! We talked about each of the ornaments - the one of cafe au lait and begneit from New Orleans, a memory of Spring Break 1997, Corky the Snowman, which Sue made from a champagne cork, the ceramic Snoopy I received the year Rae was born.

We made new memories. Oh, don't get me wrong - I cried. You bet your ass I cried. Here I was with the three people who knew me best in the days BC (Before Christopher,) and I was being reminded that who I am has always been a pretty amazing person. "You're the youngest of all of us," Mike said at one point during the night. Maybe not chronologically, but in some ways, I think he's right.

Amber, Liz, Kelly and the kids were going to come up, but by the time they were on their way, my energy level was on it's way out, so I hope they don't mind that I told them not to make the trek. As Mike said this morning, it gives us something to look forward to next time.

I miss them already. My home seems empty without them, but somehow my heart seems full.

Thankless

In my past life, I worked in both design and writing. I wrote, and then I made it look pretty. I was both a verbal and visual communicator.

But not anymore. Today, I am a writer. It's a simpler life. It's easy to describe. "I write for a jewelry company" is so much easier to understand than "I write and design for a global chemical company specializing in water treatment and paper process chemicals, including dry and wet strength resins."

I'm a writer. That's it. I come to work, I sit in my darling cubicle, and I write. All day long. I love my job. As you've probably noticed, I like to write. It's a pretty good arrangement, all things considered.

Except for this one little thing: there's no "wow" factor.

As a designer, your work gets noticed. People thank you for making their messages look fantastic. They think you're a magician. They understand the art in what you do. But, since everyone can write at some level, there's no "wow." No one notices your work unless there is something wrong. The highest compliment a writer generally receives is hearing nothing at all.

Some days, that's just hard. We launched our new corporate Web site today, and even though I wrote a whole lot of the text that's out there, it's the designers that are getting the pat on the back. Granted, it looks terrific, and I would never take that away from them. But let's face it - without my words to work with, there's no site.

So I'm gonna take myself to a movie tonight and celebrate the fact that no one complained that the writing was bad. Yay me - I don't suck a lot.

Playlist

I used to start listening to Christmas music immediately after Halloween. After all, this is good stuff; why should it be relegated to only one month of the year? But over the last few year, seeing the decorations go up right after back-to-school comes down has been a bit disconcerting. Christmas music is special because you only hear it for a defined period of time, so this year I waited until Thanksgiving.

And I just can't get enough. Here are some of the festive tunes eminating from the iPod during this season of peace, love and Starbucks peppermint mocha:

• Do They Know it's Christmas by Band-Aid
• The Little Drummer Boy by Bing Crosby and David Bowie
• Santa Claus is Comin' to Town by Bruce Springsteen
• Feliz Navidad by Daphne Rubin-Vega
• It's In Every One of Us by Dayna Manning
• Little Saint Nick by the Muppets (yes, the Muppets)
• Sing, Mary, Sing by Kathy Mattea
• Celebrate Me Home by Kenny Loggins
• Just One Night by Mac MacAnelly
• River by Sarah McLachlan
• Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses
• Christmas Eve, Sarajevo by the Trans Siberian Orchestra

There's more ... but that's what's playing now. Fix yourself a cup of 'nog and tell me what you're listening to!

And Colleen said ...

ok, I LOVE CHRISTMAS MUSIC!!! Mike can't stand it and I can't get enough. I have been listening to it in the car since Thanksgiving. It just makes me in the mood for this season of love and family and friends. On Dec. 1st it starts getting played in the house. Chase and I are so excited! Merry Christmas!

Clearly, this is just another reason why I love Colleen!

The best laid plans...

Today, I was supposed to be at Kaylee's offical first birthday party. My car had other plans.

Dale says it's the thermostat. Dad says it could be radiator-related. I say it sucks, because I'm friggin' stranded.

On the one hand, I feel very grateful I didn't have a problem on my way to lovely Gillespie, Illinois, four hours from here. On the other, I'm a little disconcerted by the fact that I've spent the entire day alone in my apartment.

Alone. I'm still not good at the alone thing. At least not when I wasn't expecting it.

I went to Target and found a pink rug for the kitchen. Yes, pink. It's pretty. But that's about as much fun as I've had today. NOT what I wanted, NOT what I planned.

I missed monkey cupcakes, family and Della's special brand of hospitality. I missed the kind of unconditional love that only this family can offer. I missed my Charlie hug. (I did not, however, miss Hunky Mike, Bird's husband, because he wasn't there. Whew!) But most of all, I missed Mike and Rae and Kaylee, at the first big gathering of our extended family. That makes me sad.

But I will have my car looked at and it'll all be better soon. For the moment, I'm going to get back to wallowing.

Blessed

Thanksgiving with my family was the best gathering we've had since before Mom got sick. I don't know what it was - the warmth of home, the chardonnay, the Christmas music - but we all got along in a way I can hardly remember. After the dishes were done, we girls sat around the table with Dad (Mike & Bernie were watching football) and laughing - just laughing practically nonstop.

The food was good, but the company was better. I felt blessed to be part of the family. I felt part of the family. It's been a long time.

Torture for no good reason

I went to the gym, but it was closed. My pre-emptive strike against the pumpkin pie didn't work, so I headed home to do a bit of cleaning before heading over to Dad's for the feast.

And for some stupid reason, I started poking around on my computer.

I found my instant message history between Christopher and I. And may I just say ... ouch.

How can two people go from "I love you, and I just thought you should know" in October of 2003 to "i do not know how to give you what you need and still keep my sanity and self-respect" in January of 2006.

It still breaks my heart. And yet I continue to read. Maybe one day, this failure will make sense. Maybe one day, I'll figure out where the lies began. Maybe one day, I won't feel like the wind's just been knocked out of me, remembering how it felt to be loved and then have it disappear so quickly, it's like it was never there to begin with.

Maybe one day. But today, it's torture and turkey.

Thankful

So it's Thanksgiving. The perfect opportunity to express my gratitude for the things that make life what it is. Some are deep and profound, some are just ... well ... not. This is by no means a complete list, but it is a start.

• My job (after 13 months without one, you'd better believe I'm thankful!)
• Hot cocoa with schnapps and whipped cream
• Rosemary mint shampoo
• People who "get" me
• Giggles
• Looking someone in the eye
• Kisses
• Hugs
• Old friends
• New friends who feel like old friends
• Good music
• Memories
• The ability to smell snow on its way
• Coffee
• Bagels and cream cheese
• Sunsets
• The sound of footsteps - crunching in leaves or snow, click-clacking on pavement, or padding barefoot on the hardwood floor
• The unconditional love of animals ... and rare people
• Truth
• Wanderlust
• Stuffing
• People who don't expect me to be perfect
• Pedicures
• Soft wool yarn
• My nieces and nephews
• The sauna at the gym
• Not missing the lesson
• Road trips
• Sushi
• Tequila
• Hardrock, Koko and Joe
• The hopefullness of Cubs fans
  

And there's more ... much more ... but for now, that'll have to do. Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Eve

Nothing much to say today, except happy Thanksgiving! May you know you are appreciated by those you love.

Ch-ch-ch-changes (with apologies to David Bowie)

Most of the time, change is good. Diapers spring immediately to mind. But smelly diapers aside, change can be scary. But as a rule, change is not the enemy. Change, I believe, is inevitable, yet friendly.

Most of my true friends have been around for awhile. People tend to come into my life and stick around for awhile. Patrick's known me for 27 years. Kelly's known me for 25 (unless you ask Marge, who'll tell you it's 35, but I swear to you I did not meet Kelly when I was six.) Kevin, about 20 years, Mike and Cute Brian and Di, 12 years, Rae, 11.

We've all seen each other change. We've seen each other become professionals, spouses, parents, crazy, rejected and lost. We've stood with each other through the good and bad, through death and the creation of life. I like to think we've grown together.

Often, when people leave our lives, the explanation is just two little words: "You've changed." Well, thank God for that. Imagine how much it would suck if we hadn't! Of course I'm thinking about when Christopher said those fateful words to me, and allow me to be the first to say "duh!" In the best of situations, people change, and my situation at the time was something less than the best. I was bound to change.

I've changed? Funny, but Patrick, Kelly, Rice, Brian, Rae, Di, Kevin ... they've seen me through the changes. And I've watched them change, too. The changes have brought us closer together. The changes have certainly kept things interesting over the years. So to my old friends, thank you for changing and growing with me. And to my new friends, I look forward to changing at your side. And to those who leave because we've changed, well ... may they one day come to terms with the fact that change is not the enemy. Change is merely the path we take to what's next.

Time may change me, but I can't trace time.

My brother is hitting on me

Rice and I have a long history of pain. We've been hitting each other for 11 years, like any good brother/sister combo. But this time, I have proof.

Are you okay?

That's what Racheal asked me last night before we turned in. We'd been talking all day long - catching up, filling each other in on our lives. This is the first time both Mike and Rae have been in my home since it ceased to be "our" home - the first time the single Maggie hosted the Tucson family since the untimely demise of what once was a marriage.

And of course, there were tears. They creep up on me at the most unexpected of moments, mostly when these extraordinary people remind me of who I was when I was at my best, when they tell me honestly that it was I who brought the fun, and Chris just came along for the ride, that they loved him because I loved him ... and I'll leave you to interpret that however you choose.

"Are you okay?" the sister of my heart asked. "Why?" I wanted to know. "Because your eyes are shiny," she said. "And I just need to know that you are okay."

Not "Stop crying," not "Get over it," not even, "Because you're crying and I'm worried about you." No, just an acknowledgment that my eyes were shiny, and what I was feeling matters to the people who love me.

What I couldn't figure out how to say last night was how grateful I am that, once again, the people who know me best are there to offer me a soft place to fall, a shoulder on which to cry, and more laughter than can be contained in one small downtown apartment. But this time, they brought something more. They brought me an amazing bundle of living breathing goodness named Kaylee.

I love getting to know my niece, to revel in the wonder of what she will become, to listen to her gurgly laugh and hear her utter "mommy" when you least expect it. But most of all, I love the fact that it's damn near impossible to feel hopeless when Kaylee is in your midst, Racheal is in your kitchen, and Mike is cracking jokes.

This is family. This is where I come from. This is who I am.

I sense a shaky theme

I've been out of touch for a day or so, because once the Tucson Contingent arrived, they pretty much had all my attention. For the last 24 hours (which I think you double and add 30 to figure baby hours ... or is the metrics?)

I've been happily ensconsed in the kind of love that only comes from Rice. And we're talking people named Rice, not the grain. Although a good bowl of rice pudding can be pretty comforting.

Anyway, we shook the baby, and then the baby had a shake. I'm comforted by the knowledge that Mike & Rae will probably always visit me as long as I live where I live, because A) it's near the airport and B) it's near a White Castle. So without further ado, I give you: an afternoon with Kaylee.

I apologize for the less-than-stellar quality of this video, but A) Mike was sitting in front of the window and B) I shot it on my phone.

They don't lick floors, do they?

So I'm down to counting the hours now. Mike, Rae and Kaylee will arrive at Chicago's lovely Midway Airport at around 11 in the morning. Give them time to get off the plane, get the luggage, pick up the car and drive to Chez Mags, I should be seeing them for a late lunch.

The house is clean, sort of. The important stuff is done - all the switchblades have been picked up from low shelves, the tequila's off the coffee table, the porn is in the closet (not that it's gay porn...) and there are toys for Kaylee to play with/drive mom & dad nuts with. The floors are reasonably clean. Reasonably, meaning there aren't any measurable dust bunnies. However, I wouldn't eat off of it if I were you.

So I'm thinking ... babies put everything in their mouths. Do they also put their mouths ON everything? Because if babies lick floors, we might be in trouble.

We had joy, we had fun ...

... we had seasons in the ... SNOW?

You have got to be kidding me. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm embracing autumn, and winter, too, but it's November, people. And yet, on my way into the office this morning, there they were.

Flurries.

There came Suzy Snowflake, dressed in her friggin' white gown.

So tonight I got out my winter gear. Gloves? Check. Coats? Check. Scarf? Crap, I think I left it at Kelly & Kevin's last weekend. If you see my half brown/half cream scarf, will you put it on my shelf?

But not to be left with a cold neck, I knitted a quick one, and it's kinda cool - more like a big neck tube than a scarf.

This was officially night two of the knitting season. I have hats to make for my nieces and nephews, mittens to make for my sister (if only I can remember how to do the thumb so it doesn't come out the wrong side of the left hand this time,) and a couple of surprises for some others on my list. (Don't tell Jenn, but she's finally getting her cable-knit pillow.)

I'm ready. You hear me, winter? I will not be defeated. I'm going to have fun! I'm going sledding, and skating, and I'm gonna build a snowman outside my office window if I have to wait until the entire building is empty. Because summer shouldn't get all the fun. And in the winter, you get to come inside afterward and snuggle, and wear flannel, and drink cocoa (with a little love stirred in, if ya know what I mean) and build a fire and think warm thoughts. There is fun to be had, and I want in on it!

Two more get-ups

Since I was a wee one, I've counted the time until something cool happens in "get-ups". Not days, get-ups. As in, how many times will the alarm ring before I get a treat? If there are two weeks until I leave for Disney World, there are really only 10 get-ups, unless I have something I need to get up early for on Saturday or Sunday. See? Get-ups make the time seem closer.

There are only two get-ups until my Tucson family comes to visit. I already got up today, so it doesn't count, and I won't set an alarm for Saturday, I will probably just roll out of bed when the doorbell rings to tell me they're here!

I explained to the cats last night that we were expecting company. I don't think they really give a damn. Benld basically looked confused (although it's hard to tell; he never looks particularly wise) and went back to sleep - see illustration. And yes, he sleeps with a pillow. Josie, mystified as to why all the linens at Chez Mags were getting washed, seemed to think she was getting her own apartment in my cedar chest. I contemplated closing the lid, but thought better of it.

So in just two more get-ups, I get to see one of my favorite branches of the family. I can't wait to see them, to hug the adult-like ones, and to squeeze the baby-like one, to wake up on Sunday morning and have coffee with two of my favorite people in the world. Oh, that reminds me. Need to get cinnamon rolls.

another manic monday

Today was just plain nuts. Waited all day for the cable guy. We had an appointment between 8 a.m. and noon.

They arrived at 3:08, and actually made it into Chez Mags at 3:32.

But I have a phone, and high-speed Web access, and more than one channel on television, so I shouldn't complain.

After a long weekend away, it was kind of nice to have an unexpected day at home. And just now I realized that I won't have another full work week until December, because we have Thanksgiving next week, and I'm taking November 30 off because Kaylee's first birthday is a national holiday (and you're all invited to come over that night and help us decorate Kaylee's First Birthday Tree, which looks suspiciously like my Christmas tree.)

So anyhoo, I'll be back in the swing of my usual routine tomorrow, but for the moment I'm feeling pretty good. It's been a long time since my home was wired as if it's the year 2007. I've had to crawl back from what seemed for awhile like it was going to be a constant state of poverty, and while I'm still a long way off, I'm going to enjoy the moment.

Even my spleen hurts

Tonight, I was re-named "Aunt Whatev." It was my niece Aubri's birthday party. Still is, in fact. It was held at the roller rink in Delavan, and everyone re-convened back at Kelly & Kevin's house for cupcakes, snacks, games and a sleepover. The cupcakes were my personal creation - chocolate cupcakes filled with chocolate ice cream and covered in chocolate frosting. It's what Aubri asked for, and it's an Aunt's job to fulfill her niece's wishes. Kelly thinks that by indulging her every request means I'm making the child high maintenance. I think it's only high maintenance if I actually got dry ice to keep them frozen while at the rink. I didn't do that.

I'm up to my armpits in teenage girls, and a couple of teenage boys. Turns out, I've still got it. I think a 14-year-old boy by the name of Steven had a little crush on me. We skated. And skated. And skated. After I took a few turns around the rink, my mother-in-law, Marge, and my ex walked in. My legs started to shake. I prefer to think it was because the sensation of skating was something relatively new to me, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was due (in part, at least) to the fact that Christopher showed up when he wasn't expected to be there. But I just kept skating. I fell once - bounced on my fat ass, and felt it right up to my head. But I had a blast. Not falling, but skating.

It occurred to me on the way home that I had a way better time then Christopher did. I skated, I played with the kids, I tapped into my inner child and just reveled in the joy of being with friends young and not so, just being the goofy people we are. Two years ago, when I wasn't yet aware that my marriage was over, I wouldn't have skated. I would have stuck at Christopher's side, regardless of my own desire to be in on the fun. Have no fear: that side of me has been retired. My life now is way too much fun to go back.

Kelly and I shared a couple's skate. Jason and Aimee skated together, and how cute are they? I think they have a crush on each other. Kevin won the Pepsi Stretch, Aubri did great at the Limbo, and I think everyone but Amber fell at least once.

So now we're back home, I have a beer (the first of several, I'm sure) and I'm relatively certain I am going to wake up in the morning wishing I'd had the good sense to say "no" to skating. But it was worth it.

Random quote from my life

So last night I'm talking to Mike on the phone. And he says:

"Where the fuck is my baby?"

Classic.

Sounds like inspiration for a haiku:

kaylee crawled away
"where the fuck is my baby?"
stupid stupid dad

Why I love my other brother Mike

Please note: this really isn't a blatant suck-up prior to the big Thanksgiving visit. Really.

I met my other brother Mike in 1995. I think we met the same night I met Cute Brian. There were Frisbees. And olfactory injuries. But Mike and I didn't actually bond until one night when he walked into the newsroom and explained that he needed to drive to Champaign (we were in Charleston, about an hour away) because that's where the nearest Kinko's was.

I tossed him my keys. Sure, I didn't really know the guy, but he needed a car, and I had one. Seemed like a no-brainer to me.

We've been close ever since. He named my car (Lolita, because she had a little shimmy in the front end) and became my brother in the span of about a week. Seriously, he couldn't be more my brother if we were actually related. His family loves me unconditionally, and includes me like a sibling and daughter ... sometimes even better than my "actual" family. And both he and I admit that while we share an emotional connection, we find one another physically repulsive.

See? Brother/sister.

So yesterday I was talking to my sister Pat, and she asked me if Mike and Rae would be visiting with the fam when they're in town. "I just want to see that cute baby!" she said. (I'm sure that will make the parents happy!) I relate that story to Mike, and what does he say? "Whether we visit with your sisters or not will depend entirely on how they treat my Maggie."

HA! We will withhold Kaylee privileges if my sisters don't play nice! Isn't it just like a brother to do that? The truth is, I always wanted that kind of brother - the kind who sticks up for me, tells me when I'm being a bitch, isn't afraid to punch me in the shoulder (the actual shoulder, not the boob,) drinks beer with me and lets me chew on his kid's cheeks. It only took me 30 years to find him. And because he had the good sense to marry one of my other best friends, getting together with family just makes my soul smile.

And they're gonna be here in a week! I can't wait!

Quote, Unquote

An oft-used phrase that drives me crazy, Quote Unquote is rarely used correctly. How many times do you hear stuff like this:

My brother says he's going to quote unquote kick my ass at guitar hero.

Which would look like this when transcribed:

My brother says he's going to " " kick my ass at guitar hero.

No, gentle reader, one would correctly say:

My brother says he's going to quote kick my ass at guitar hero unquote.

Which really has nothing to do with the point of this post. Which just goes to show, sometimes I get off on a tangent before I even begin to write.

I wanted to share with you one of the most beautiful quotes I've heard in awhile. What makes this one even more special is that it's not something from Maya Angelou or Benjamin Franklin. It's from someone real in my life, someone I love.

"I'm (quote unquote?) so lucky to have my friends in my life."

There's a universal truth for you. Our friends reflect back to us the best of ourselves. They magnify our joy, they minimize our pain. They offer a soft place to fall when the world is hard. Over time, we're there for each other this wild give-and-take we call life. We offer balance, support, encouragement and love. That's the mark of family, whether your blood runs through my veins or your spirit flows through my heart.

I, too, am lucky to have my friends in my life.

And you can quote me on that.

Heroes, flannel and jet lag

Most people observing my weekend would think "Boring." I disagree; for me, it was perfect.

Friday night and Saturday, I did some fall cleaning. It's like spring cleaning but more fun, because in the fall you get to figure out where the Christmas tree is going to go.

Hey, that gives me a nifty idea. When the Tucson contingent is here, we should put up my tree. That would make me happy. Putting up the tree alone would make me sad, but putting it up in a house full of love would be awesome.

I also got out my fall/winter clothes. I need to have my winter coat cleaned. And, as luck would have it, I have plenty pants and skirts for the season, but not enough tops. Good thing my bras are pretty.

I spent almost the entire weekend in yoga pants and a flannel shirt. The same flannel shirt I wore in college - you know, the blue plaid one in all the pictures? If those sleeves could talk ...

But on Sunday, I had to put on some Big Girl Clothes, because I was going over to Dad's to celebrate my sister's birthday and do some laundry for free. I have found that when I don't look tidy like a Stepford ex-wife, visiting my family is more of a discussion of How Margaret Doesn't Fit In and Youngest Child/Greatest Disappointment. So I primped. It's just easier that way.

So I arrived at Dad's with little fanfare, threw in a load of wash (I haven't done towels in about three weeks) and hunkered down for a visit. Then, my nephew arrived. Carrying two faux guitars.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was saved by a 14-year-old and his game console.

Alex brought Guitar Hero. Now, I bring this up not because I'm any good at any video game. I bring this up because I'm the only one who'll play with him. Such activities are "beneath" my tight and right sisters, and Dad gets a little intimidated by technology. So Alex and I spent most of the day holed up in the front room, battling it out via music and watching movies - Caddyshack and Fletch. I had more fun than I've had in a really long time with my family. Don't get me wrong, I love them like crazy. It's just that sometimes I don't think they like me very much. Having Alex want to hang out with his old aunt, knowing that he had no doubt I would play with him, is the best feeling ever.

I love being an aunt. I love that I have nieces and nephews that go well beyond blood relationships. And I love that they love me back.

For the record, he handed me my ass on a platter in Guitar Hero, but he still can't beat me in Horse.

Now if only I could adjust to the time change ...

Why I love Brenda Lee

It's November 2. There's an undeniable chill in the Midwestern air, and while channel surfing on the radio en route to the office this morning, I heard the lilting tones of Burl Ives emanating from my crappy speakers. Ya gotta love Burl. (Back in the day, he was an EIU student. All the cool kids were.) "Have a holly jolly Christmas," he said.

Could it be? Is it Christmastime?

Yes, I guess it is.

93.9 FM plays Christmas music all season long. And yes, the "season" starts now. For me, the holiday season starts with Halloween. It's a holiday, people! So why not tune into Christmas tunage immediately after? Why restrict Andy Williams to one month out of the year? Why, indeed!!!

After my buddy Burl, the next song was Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." This is the only song I ever bought on a 45. (For those of you who don't know what a 45 is, you're too young, and you can kiss my aging ass.) I love that song. I get a sentimental feeling when I hear it. And yet, for about eight years, it never played in my home.

To say Christopher didn't like the song is like saying I don't like being on fire. He hated it. That, and "Jingle Bell Rock." He never said I couldn't play it, but it wasn't worth it. So I didn't listen to it.

For eight years.

So today, I cranked up the volume, rolled down the windows and revelled in the complete and utter joy that comes with being the DJ of my own life, and the knowledge that I will never again allow another person's taste dictate my own.

And by the way, I eat red meat, I love dairy products, I feed the cats from the table and I still believe a wedding ring is essentially just a piece of jewelry and it doesn't matter if you wear it as long as you remember you're married.

The itch

No, I don't have a yeast infection; it's not that kind of itch.

I'm having the itch to travel. Earlier this week, I wrote an article about lia sophia's 2007 Incentive Trip; they're going to Hawaii in March. Now, I'm writing about our top-secret 2008 Incentive Trip; I can't tell you where it's going.

But I wanna go!

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. This is the type of writing I love to do. It just makes me hungry. And itchy.

Haiku for today

i'm better today
feel oodles more like myself
yay! back to "normal"

The wonder of Kaylee

I am so excited. In a few weeks, my baby niece Kaylee is bringing her mom and dad to visit. They are coming from Tucson for Thanksgiving, and will be here for a couple of weeks. They won't be with me exclusively during that time (after all, they have a lot of family to visit!) but I get to have them all at Chez Mags off and on for two weeks!

My to-do list in preparation:

• Baby-proof the house
• Prepare the cats
• Borrow toys
• Hide the porn
• Decide what I want Racheal to cook for me while she's here

Looks like I've got my work cut out for me!

This picture is of four of my favorite beings in the universe, my second brother Mike (the tall one) and Kaylee the Wonderkid, plus two of the greatest canines in the world. They all live in Tucson with Rae (the mom/sister-in-law), Gabby and Max (cats). I miss them all the time. I can't wait until they are here.

I'm positive

I went to the gym last night. I'm still not actually feeling well enough to be at the gym, but I figured a little sweat would do me good.

I smile when I'm at the gym. It's a little game I play. A lot of people just look so unhappy when they work out, so I smile at them and see if I can make them smile back. Sometimes, it works.

Tonight, I smiled at Nice Stride Boy. This guy who runs on the treadmill across from me has the most beautiful stride. It's like watching a gazelle. So I smiled at him. He smiled back. I also smiled at Frizzy Blonde Lady. She just looked at me like she thought I was retarded. Maybe I was singing along to the iPod?

Anyway, after my workout I stopped into the cafe to get a bottle of water from New Guy. As I was standing at the register, Jessica, the young lady who took me on my first tour of the gym back in September, stopped in to say hello. "I have to know," she asked, "are you always so postive?"

Now, anyone who knows me also knows that I am so not always postive. But it was very sweet to hear. I'm positive! Did you know that?

The sitcom of my life has a dream sequence

I come from a long line of basket cases and slobs. I got the basket case gene, but of all my siblings, I am the only one who did not get the slob gene. Except maybe Michael, and we'll never know for sure about that. My home tends to be pretty tidy even when I think it's a mess. That's just how I roll.

So imagine my surprise when my mother popped in for a visit last night and said, "Would you look at this place? It looks like I live here."

Which is funny, because my mom doesn't live anywhere anymore.

Could be Nyquil-induced dreams, could be insanity, but I talked to Mom last night.

The whole thing happened in my bedroom, right where I was sleeping. She sat on the corner of my bed for a little while and answered some of my unanswered questions.

"Mom, why did you give the other girls so much more than you gave me?" I asked.

"Because you're the one who doesn't need stuff," she said. "You've never been the materialistic one. I gave you my recipes, my robe and my wedding ring. Diamonds and pearls wouldn't make a difference in your life, but knowing how to make Butterscotch Chewy Cake will. You were always the one who worked behind the scenes, the one who never tooted her own horn. But you never needed sparkles to be noticed. You sparkled enough on your own."

Now it was time for some of the tough questions.

"Did you resent me because I was 'normal' and Mike wasn't?"

"Resent probably isn't the right word," she said. "But I was disappointed that I didn't have two perfectly healthy children for my last round of motherhood."

That felt truthful. That sounded like Mom.

"Was I a disappointment to you?"

"You disappointed me sometimes," she said. "All you girls did. But you weren't a disappointment."

In the dream, I believed her.

Then, as quickly as she arrived, she was gone. Whether I really got answers or just told my subconscious what I wanted to hear, I'll never know. No matter what, it was good to talk to her. For a dead lady, she looks pretty good.

My weekend in the car

What a great weekend. Parties and performances, surrounded by friends. I lived the life of a rockstar, except a rockstar would have had a really cool tour bus and wouldn't have been alone on the trip from home to Wisconsin to Aurora to home to Wisconsin to Aurora to home. And a rockstar would have been able to sleep while some guy named Hank drove the swanky bus from town to town.

I don't think it was all the celebrations that got to me. I think it was the drive. And maybe the fever.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, turns out my near-fainting spell Saturday night had less to do with low blood sugar and more to do with illness. After the show last night, Arlene told me I was running a fever and I needed to get home. So I said my goodbyes and off I went. Once home, I took the longest bath in the history of the modern world, and slept through the night.

I'm achey, stuffy, feverish and tired today, but it will pass. And I'd do it all overy again. Just not right away.

The morning routine

Sharon at my work (I can't call her my friend at work because I don't make friends at work) asked me once why I don't wear makeup to work. Well, I do, and if I didn't, everyone would wonder who the blind girl is, because no one would be able to see my eyes. But anyhoo, the reason for my relatively natural-looking head is twofold. 1) I like sleep, and I'm not usually up early enough to do the full on Diva face. 2) Benld.

At the risk of sounding like the crazy old woman on the hill with 11 cats, I adore my furry roommates. But Benld is an attention hog. Seriously. He wants to be exactly where I am whenever I am home. If I'm on the couch, he's in my lap. If I'm in bed, he's on the extra pillow. Sometimes when I'm in the shower, he comes in and sits on the ledge of the tub, just out of reach of the water. No matter what I'm doing, he wants me to hold him.

Which makes it tough to put on makeup. To illustrate, here's a picture from this morning. That's Benld, perched on my shoulder, watching the world (or my towels) go by behind me. You can almost see the really cool tile in my bathroom (and the bags under my eyes from a rough week at work.) I tried to ignore him today (not the tile, Benld), and he proceeded to jump up onto the sink, stand on his hind legs and basically crawl up on me until he was in this position. All that while I was trying to put on mascara. It's a wonder I haven't been blinded by his acrobatics.

Haiku for October 26

what a week it was
but now it's Halloweekend!
please buy me a beer

Today's haiku

Red Sox beat Rockies
Josh Beckett is my hero
Boston rocks my world

What you keep

I've been cleaning a lot lately. Some of the stuff that's in my storage unit has been there since I moved into the apartment in downtown Arlington Heights over a year ago, so it's time to go through it. If I haven't used it in a year, I probably don't need it, right?

Except the Christmas decorations. I didn't put them up last year, but I'm not tossing them yet. Besides, this might be the year. Will you come help me decorate?

Anyhoo, I got to thinking about stuff I've gotten rid of, and stuff I've kept. Somehow, that train of thought always brings me back around to Christopher. He "encouraged" me to get rid of a lot of stuff. My Fiestaware. Shoes ... how many pairs of shoes? Books, to make room for his. And I willingly did it, in the name of love.

But the stuff that I kept, and the stuff I've acquired since he left, is so much cooler. And by "stuff" here, I mean people. Sure, my collection of antique juicers is much smaller now than it was in the days B.C. (before Christopher,) but my collection of amazing, loving people is better than ever!

There are people I neglected during the marriage - most notably Kelly and Kevin and the kids, and Cute Brian. There are people who were on the periphery of my life but never allowed in, like Kim, and Mom Terry. And there are new people - Dale, Angel, Nemo, Elaina (the greatest ex-wife-in-law a woman can have!) and scores of others I'm just beginning to know. People whose warmth and love fill my life with incredible joy.

The amazing thing is, he might have taken my soul and my confidence with him when he left, but I can get that back, and I think over time I will. But he didn't really take anything else, except our bread machine. Most of the people refuse to choose sides, and those who have chosen, well ... I think they still wish him the best, even though they don't want to be in his life. So what did I really lose?

I lost a man who couldn't love me after the money ran out. I lost a man who chose to love someone else besides the woman to whom he promised forever. And yes, I lost some of who I am - the graceful, confident woman I once was. But I get to keep a new spirit, fueled by people whose love is boundless, whose energy is intoxicating, and whose faith in me inspires me every day. He lost the wonder that is me, and kept ... well, Her and Her Four Kids.

Live A.D. (after Divorce) really isn't half bad. And most of the time, it's all good.

According to Matthew

All through my life, up until 1993, I was heavily involved in theater. I've been in the chorus and I've been the lead, but the best experiences have come from being a part of an ensemble cast. You know, those groups that just come together and work so well you never want to take that final bow.

In 1987, I found myself working with a cast like that. We were reviving "Godspell," the musical based on the Gospel According to Matthew, at Aurora University. They had run the show a few years previously with great success, and wanted to reprise the magic. Many members of the same cast, myself included, went on to tour the show with Broadway Bound Players, performing all over Illinois.

And now, 20 years later, we will revive it once more.

This Sunday, October 28, at Our Lady Good Counsel church in Aurora, many members of our 1987 cast will join together again to share in a concert version of the show. We'll share our favorite parables and the music and (hopefully) rediscover the magic.

But the real magic for me happened at rehearsal. I hadn't seen some of my castmates in 20 years. Keith and Val had gone on to their "real lives" and we just lost touch. And yet, to be in their presence again, it is as if we never missed a beat. In Keith I once again find the man who never fails to make me laugh, or inspire me with his innate ability to become part of the scenery. And Val ... sometimes ya just gotta say "wow." She and I were never particularly close, but I remember loving her anyway. But the woman she has become is someone I admire - she is strong and confident and funny, and she and I seem to relate on a very personal level.

When I left that first rehearsal, I felt full. Not of food (although Patrick's dad did not disappoint!) but of love and friendship - the sort of friendship that stands the test of time and proves itself stronger than you ever thought possible.

So if you don't have anything to do this Sunday night, join us in Aurora at 7 p.m. for "Godspell: The Concert." If for no other reason than to see if we've still got "it" after 20 years.

Quote of the Day

"Reverse your brother; I don't want him dead for too long."
-Kevin Rathunde

The weekend, finally

This week has totally kicked my ass. But, you'll be happy to note, I kicked right back.

It occurred to me this morning that it was really past time for me to quit the belly-achin' over my rough workweek. After all, less than a year ago I had no job, no reasonable source of income, and barely a roof over my head. I am fortunate to have a rough week at work!

And other than looming deadlines and opportunities to work miracles, the week has had some pretty good points, too. I've enjoyed my time at the gym, and I'm looking forward to going tonight. I had a great conversation with Cute Brian. I embraced my inner Meredith. I made chili, butternut squash soup, and pizza ... all three taste great with Harvest Moon beer. I've slept the sleep of angels, sat in the sauna until I had the complexion of a 20 year old, and curled up under a quilt to watch television.

So, yes, it's been one of those weeks. But that's not really a bad thing. All things considered, I'd say I worked hard enough to truly earn my weekend.

Crappy day? Here's what to do

So yesterday sucked. Today's not looking like much of an improvement. But I am feeling like I can handle it, because I have stuff in my bag o' tricks that never fail to make me feel better. Next time you have a rough day, try something like this:

• Call Kelly and ask her to say "motherfuckingcocksucker." It's like listening to a bunny swear at you.
• Sweat. Get some endorphins running through your system. It really works.
• Beer.
• Watch something really engaging, but not heavy, on television. An episode of the British show "Jekyll" works wonders.
• Talk to my dad. The white James Earl Jones is always on deck with sage advice, but not before he's made me find a solution myself.
• Bubble bath. With lots of bubbles. And candles. And music. And a glass of something tasty.

And if all that fails, just go to bed. It won't look quite so crappy in the morning.

When bad work happens to good people

Well, shit.

The deadline looms, and I'm not proud of my work.

To be fair, over the last couple of weeks I've written a couple of headlines that still make me giggle, a letter for our CEO that made me and my boss proud to work here, even though we both knew every word came out of my noggin, and worked a miracle on a presentation for our Zone Managers.

But today, working on another presentation, I am completely eating it. There is nothing creative I can do to fix it, short of including subliminal messages. It's just not going to happen.

I suck. And not in a good way.

Body = Temple?

So I've been doing the gym thing for a month now. Baby steps, Margot. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was that ass. I'm truly enjoying the workouts. There's something different to do whenever I feel like changing it up a bit. Tomorrow, I'm doing a Salsa/Funk class. This weekend, it's yoga.

Last night, I met with my nutritionist. She's not just my nutritionist, of course, but it sounds very fancy to say I met with my nutritionist, so tough cookies.

Mmmm ... cookies ...

Okay, back to nutrition.

Melissa is the nutritionist on staff at Life Time Fitness, my gym. She's a delight - she understands the need for baby steps. I'm not going to just turn a complete 180 and start liking vegetables, you know? So we talked about what I like to eat for meals and snacks. And as I talked, I started seeing patterns. During the week, I have pretty good habits.

On the weekends, my favorite snack is tequila.

Well, at least it's not a foo-foo sugary drink that adds even more empty calories!

So I'm still not treating my body like a temple. Maybe if some hot guy would worship at the Temple of Margot, I'd get on board with that.

From apples to popcorn

Had great plans to pick apples and bake delicious pies on Sunday, but the weather was being an asshole.

Sometimes, ya just gotta go with the flow. So we flowed.

Kelly came home from work and we decided not to brave the orchard in the rain. We sat and talked (as women often do) and eventually decided to see a movie. There is nothing better than grown women (me, Kelly and Amber) seeing a teenage chick flick. Sydney White is definitely on our list of recommended movies for a rainy Sunday afternoon! We shared popcorn and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

The world gave us rain, and we had fun anyway. Take THAT, weatherman!

And by the way, I just noticed that "popcorn" is just porn with extra letters.

Groovy ghoulies

Today was day one of the Weekend of Fall Fun. We took Great America by storm.

You can tell who was born when by what they call the park. Younguns call it Six Flags. To our generation, it will always be Great America. Secretly, it's still Marriott's to us. As long as they still have the Eagle, I don't care what you call it.

The drive was fun, mostly because Kelly brought sustenance for the journey. It's truly fall now, because we've had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.

We met at Gurnee Mills, and everyone piled into the Jeep of Love so we could park close and for free, since Aubri has preferred parking. Seriously, the 12-year-old has parking privileges. The little man who directed us to parking seemed surprised when I kissed him, but he offered his other cheek too, so I don't think he minded.

We spent most of the day wandering around soaking up the atmosphere. We saw one of the shows, enjoyed one of the haunted houses, and rode the Eagle. Other than that, we really just wandered and enjoyed being together in a place that was all about fun. In the haunted house, Kelly was scared. Scared enough that she actually thought I'd protect her. She was a real trouper until the chainsaw guy came at her. And his friend came from behind. Then, she turned into a big chicken. She tried to melt into the pavement. She only proceeded in squeezing through Patrick's legs. Oh, sure, that's going to protect you.

The street performers were amazing. They were dressed as werewolves (there wolves!) and vampires and trolls, and they had great characters and costumes. It really set a great mood.

The only line we waited in was for food. It shouldn't take an hour to get amusement park Chinese food, but it did. It was good, though, so I'm not gonna complain.

By the end of the evening, we all felt like old friends, even though Patrick's only met Amber once and none of us knew Melissa and Michelle was new to the group, too. The thing that just gets me is, it doesn't matter how well we know you. If you know someone we love, we will love you, too. And you will spend your day laughing and joking with us as if we've known you all our lives. That's part of what makes us special, I think. That and the insanity.

More tomorrow. The orchard will never be the same.

Be nice

After what seems like months of dodging the bullet, I think the sicky-poo train finally caught up with me. Stuffy nose, watery/itchy eyes, thick throat, and a general feeling of listlessness ... Margot has a cold.

Maybe it's because I'm sleeping in the freakin' deepfreeze?

Brrrrr

There is no heat in my apartment.

Well, there is heat, but so far it's not operational. When I went to bed, it was 58 degrees. I soaked in a hot bath, hopped up, put on my ugly robe, ran into the bedroom and skittered under the sheets with the robe still on because the sheets were damn cold.

On the bed, there is: flannel sheets, flannel pillowcases, an old blanket, a quilt, a down comforter and another quilt. There is enough weight there that it feels like I'm being crused with soft things (oh, sweet torture!)

And still, it's cold. At 2 a.m. I wake up and can finally slither out of the robe. The cats are mocking me as they saunter around in their little fur coats.

Hopefully the landlord will figure this out soon. There is nothing worse than a cold toilet seat.

New tires and Mildred Pierce

I had an appointment at National Tire & Battery this morning. A 7 a.m. appointment. Now, for a girl who prefers not to be up until the crack of Noon, the alarm at 6 a.m. was quite startling. So I snoozed. Twice. Leaving no time for coffee before I ran out of the house.

It's four tires and an oil change. I'm the first appointment of the day. How long can it take? An hour or so and I'll hit the Starbucks and be on my way.

Except the universe had other plans. I was basically held hostage by NTB and Turner Classic Movies, which was the only channel I could get in on the television in the waiting room. I read my book for awhile, and got sucked into "Mildred Pierce" an old film from 1945 starring Joan "No More Wire Hangers" Crawford as the title character and a bunch of people I didn't know. The standout in the film was Eve Arden as Ida, the tough-as-nails restaurant hostess who gives Mildred her first job. She delivered lines like "When men get around me, they get allergic to wedding rings" with the perfect amount of sarcasm and sweetness whe was awesome! Also unforgettable is Butterfly McQueen, she of "I don't no nothin' 'bout birthin' babies" fame. And yes, that is her real voice.

But my point is, I watched the entire movie, plus part of "Treasure of the Sierra Madre." I was finally on my way to work with a lot less time and money than I'd had when I started my day.

And I still hadn't had any coffee. Thank God for Starbuck's.

Anyhoo, the car's all put back together, riding like a dream. The oil's changed, the wipers are new, and the shimmy in the front end is but a memory. Anybody wanna go for a ride?

Flannel sheets

It's chilly out today, and I like it.

Kelly, before you slap me, consider this: I married a guy who was miserable for about seven months out of every year. And when Christopher was miserable, everyone was miserable. So I'm going to revel in every glorious moment of this fall and winter, just because I can.

Think about it. A whole season tailor-made for cuddling, wearing cute sweaters, drinking Cocoa Kelly (or Cocoa Margot, which I prefer), sleeping under piles of quilts, making chili, sitting by the fire (even if it is just the fireplace at Starbucks), learning to ski (hey, maybe I will!), ice skating, snow angels, vintage coats, wearing your Auntie Margot hats ... can you dig it?

Give in, and enjoy the season with me. Sleep naked in the flannel sheets. It's good for the soul.

Good ankle day

I've always liked my ankles. In recent years, howev, they have not been kind to me. The bigger my butt got, the more my ankles would swell.

Started going to the gym, et voila, I already have my ankles back. After wearing strappy stilettos on Friday and then standing on concrete all night Saturday, they doggies were a'howlin', but they've forgiven me and I once again have my feminine, sweet ankles. They make me happy.

So there's three things about me that I really like: My ankles, my wrists and my sense of humor. Sometimes even in that order.

Which made me think ... right now, at this moment, what are my favorite things about my friends?

• Kelly's unconditional love, even when I don't deserve it
• Kim's laugh - it's like champagne
• Kevin's intuition
• Brian's instinctive knowledge of when I need a hug
• Nemo's can. Oops, I'm sorry, I meant his deep, sultry voice
• Amber's combination of childlike sophistication; no one else could carry that off
• Angel's willingness to try anything
• Patrick's openness
• Aimee's wacky way of seeing the world
• Dale's "true stories"

What do you like about you?

Princess, Bandito and Daughter

Had a jam-packed weekend planned. Not everything turned out as intended, but all's well that ends well, I suppose.

Friday night was Libby's Princess Party. It began with an awesome festive atmosphere and a ride in a 22-seat Hummer limo. It ended with a less festive atmosphere, a couple of pukey drunk princesses (which, incidentally, isn't allowed, per Section II Article V in the Princess Handbook.) In between there was music, dancing, cute bar guy, a Mexican wedding (which some of the princesses seemed to find more fun than our party) and an invitation to the stairwell. If I may say so myself, we all looked resplendent in our Princess Finest - Angel with her sparkly shirt, Amber in a black halter dress that complimented every curve, Libby looking like something straight out of a storybook, and I in the killer heels. I wore a dress, too, so don't get any ideas.

Callen and Scooby were our doormen, and they were the perfect gentlemen all evening. Callen's intensely sweet nature made the evening very special.

I slept in a bit Saturday and then headed home, because Cute Brian and I were going to Joe's Bar in Chicago to see Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers.

Best. Concert. Ever.

They played everything. 2 1/2 hours straight, with no break, they played. I have never seen four more hard-working musicians as these guys. The atmosphere was electric, the beer was ice cold, and we turned it into a party with old friends who just met.

The opened with Mexico, closed with Nada, and in between played stuff from the old Refreshments days intermixed with newer stuff. They played Banditos, and Down Together, and Contraband, and Plenty, and Better Beautiful than Perfect ... and MORE!!! Watching the crowd, you couldn't help but marvel at the cross-section of society these guys attract. Some more familiar with the old stuff, some the new, but everyone enjoyed every song.

Green & Dumb made me cry a bit, and I tried to do it subtley. The tears faded quickly when Brian put his arm around me, and his other arm around Blonde Woman who was one of our new best buds, and the next thing we knew we had a line of people, arms around each other, swaying in time to the music. In that moment, I felt fortunate to feel so alive. I have a hard time describing it. Brian summed it up in two words: Cowboy hats and beer. I added tequila, sweat and tears.

After the show came the best part: I got to drive the Jeep home. Not my Jeep - Brian's, the sweet little open-top slice of automotive heaven, with the top down, of course. I smiled the whole way.

From there, my weekend got a little weird(er), with family and Dad stuff and real life needing my attention, but this was a weekend I will remember for a long time to come.

Multi-state weekend of fun

I get to be a princess, a groupie, and an aunt, all in the same weekend.

Tonight is Libby's Princess Party, where we all get to dress in our blingy best to celebrate our sparkly friend's birthday. She has hired a limo to escort us all to the party venues! Won't that be the most fun?

Tomorrow night, Cute Brian and I are going to Joe's Bar in Chicago to see Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers. Brian has promised to drive with the top down on the Jeep, ergo I am looking forward to the drive as much as I am the show.

Then on Sunday, I get the pleasure of seeing my wonderful niece in an awful show. Aubri is playing the lead in "Pippi Longstocking, the Family Musical." I am looking forward to seeing Aubri, and Kelly, and Kevin. But I am really looking forward to curtain call. The Rathundes will be awesome, but even their extraordinary talent can not make this show good.

After that, I'll be heading home to sleep. I think I'll need it!

Should've just had McDonald's

Clearly I've been craving Chinese food, because today for lunch I had it for the second time this week. But I swear on all that's good and holy, I have got to stop eating it because Chinese people hate me.

Here's the fortune I got in today's cookie:

Love is when someone gives to the other the best piece of chicken

Beg pardon? You want me to suck your what?

I'm looking for guidance and wisdom. I get chicken philosphy. Fuck you, China.

Vegetarians and Chinese food

I had dinner with my friend Melissa last night. Not the Melissa who crashed the wedding, the other one. Come to think of it, I don't think you've met her.

She's a vegetarian, and she ordered Chinese takeout for us to eat at her new house. Her house is just beautiful - she moved in just a few months ago and already it feels like a home. Her dog, Socrates, loves me, but that's probably because I play ball with him. Believe it or not, he's a vegetarian, too! We had Kung Pao Tofu, which was astoundingly tasty, and vegetable friend rice and vegetable egg rolls. It was really delish, but the company was even better.

I've known Meli for nine years. We worked together at Nalco, but I until last night I hadn't seen her in almost two years. We talked and talked, catching each other up on our lives. She told me that when she first started with Nalco, she wanted to get to know me because I am such a confident person. I almost spit out my tea.

I tried to explain to her that inside I often just want to curl up and hide, but she said it takes confidence to have the "this is me, take it or leave it" attitude I have. Well, okay ... I guess she has a point. But you have to take into account the fact that lots of people choose option B, and that always stings!

What I took away from our dinner, which lasted until after 10 p.m., I might add, was that the way the world sees you is rarely the way we see ourselves, and sometimes we just have to accept the fact that whether we believe it or not, our friends' perception of us is good to know, because a true friend sees what's inside and thinks we're amazing.

I wanna be a dentist

What are you doing October 13 & 14? Or December 1?

Answer? Hanging out with the Misfits, of course!

Now, gentle reader, I'm not calling you names. Misfits is what we call ourselves, because we were never the popular kids but now we're sort of our own happy harmless street gang. And we're planning on having some fun!

October 13, we're going to Great America for Fright Fest. October 14, we're going to Apple Holler to pick apples, after which we will likely find a kitchen and bake some pies. (You can either bake or just eat.)

December 1 is Misfits Thanksgiving and Caroling. Thanksgiving will be a pot luck meal, and each adult is requested to bring a dish that was a family staple growing up. That means I'll be bringing stuffed cabbage, Kelly will be bringing cheesy potatoes, Patrick will be bringing something pasta or pizza ... what will you be bringing? We'll gather at Amber's house in Lake Geneva, chow down, play some games, and then bundle up to head out to do some Christmas caroling.

More details will be coming when we get closer, and you can always talk to me, Kelly or Patrick if get antsy. Or Amber, of course, regarding Misfits Thanksgiving. (Speaking of which, I hope she meant it when she said we could have it at her house!) But remember this: with the Misfits, everybody fits.

Cute Brian

Cute Brian saves my mood a lot. Cute Brian "gets" me on the platypus days. Cute Brian is cute, and Brian.

The weekend was a little rough, what with the universal rejection of the entire male population of Metropolis, including the one man who is still (technically) my husband. And Cute Brian doesn't tell me to snap out of it. Cute Brian doesn't tell me to quit wallowing in my pajamas. Cute Brian says stuff like this:

"How could I not love you...you're The Mags. And the people who don't see that are way too stupid to live."

Sometimes when I'm feeling particularly inferior, I don't think I deserve his friendship. But I hope he never figures that out.

The Update

Ah, weekends. I hung out at home on Friday, had a great trip to the gym on Saturday (which included a heavenly respite in the sauna) and puttered around Chez Mags before hanging out with Brian on Sunday.

Like any stretch of time, this weekend brought with it it's share of life lessons and unanswered questions. Such as ...

Life lessons:
Rejection hurts right now even if he left over a year ago
Pizza and merlot is always a good combo
Cocoa tastes better with squirty whipped cream ... and Rumpleminze
I walk really fast to "Te Dejo Madrid"
My cat is such a whore
So is Kelly ... just ask Brad
Spending a day in your pajamas is good for the soul
The guy who lives downstairs is a lecherous cretin
Brian has lovely shoulders and forearms. Kelly can check his biceps herself.

Unanswered questions:
Why does Brian read the blog but not comment?
Why is it called a "Yoda Soda"?
Why does stuff that's bad for you feel and taste so good?
What is Benld chasing?
Does He realize Judi's ugly? Does that mean I'm ugli-er?
How does the cat hair all get together to form one big clump under the bed?
Why does lounging in the grass on a warm September night feel better than lounging on the grass in July?

If you have a Brazilian wax and no one's around to appreciate it, does it count?

My mom and Elvis

My mom and Elvis have a lot in common. For one thing, they're both dead. For another, they both had a jungle room in their house.

No, wait...that was just Elvis.

So my mom and Elvis just have that one thing in common. But still ...

Mom is probably jumping for joy and looking for someone to hit at the same time. On the one hand, her Cubs are in the playoffs. I can't think of the men in blue without thinking of my mom. The day before she died, we were on the phone together during the game. (During that conversation, she had a horrible headache, which turned out to be a brain tumor that took her off the air in a matter of hours, so I guess it could be said that the Cubs killed my mom.) Anyhoo, the woman is certainly doing the dance of joy over her Cubs, and simultaneously plotting Lovie Smith's demise because the Bears really suck. But I'm not going to complain. It's October, and I'm still watching the Cubs. Life is good.

Love those Latin rhythms

Tell me lies, slap me on the face, just ...
Improvise, do something really clever
That'll make me hate your name forever

Is it possible that Shakira, that Columbian goddess who makes Beyonce look like a child trying to dance, actually speaks the words that live only in my head?

To watch her dance is to wish you could somehow learn to move like that. But to listen to her ... to fully take in the layers of lyrics ... it's almost too much.

In the world full of strangers
You're the one I know

I listen to her a lot on the treadmill and the elliptical. She makes me move. Makes me feel sinewy. Powerful. Agile. I like it.

And you know ... my hips don't lie.

What the?

I'm pretty sure that's what my body is saying every time I walk into the gym.

My heart and lungs are wondering why, all of a sudden, I'm taking them out for a night on the town. My muscles are trying to figure out how to handle this new-fangled thing called "working." And let me tell you, my sweat glands have gone into overdrive.

So a funny thing happened last night at the gym. There are mirrors everywhere, so we can make sure our form is correct and (if you're me) check out the cute guy on the treadmill in front of you. I met with Kate, who went through a routine with me on the weights that should work every major muscle group (and have me running up the stairs in no time.) I was looking at myself in the mirror and thinking to myself, "yikes, where did all those lumps come from?" But I focused on my form - stand straight, stomache in, lift from the deltoid - and I forgot to feel bad about how I looked.

Then, after my workout, I walked into the locker room to take a shower. Wrapped in a towel, I caught my eye again in the mirror, only this time, I didn't recognize myself at first. My first thought was, she's sexy.

And "she" was me.

I'm not sure if it was the hour of sweating, or the pink glow in my skin, or that I just felt good for finishing my workout, but there it is: she's sexy.

I'll be going back to the gym tonight, to see if she's there again.

Sleep

I've lived alone now for more than a year. In fact, He moved out in August of 2006, and I moved into my current location a year ago right about now.

It's been a rocky year. Yes, I still cry sometimes over what might have been. I still feel angry over the broken promises and the cold black loveless heart I sometimes feel I was left with. But for the most part, I love my life, I love my home, and I love who I am.

He rarely slept in pajamas, and He never really understood my need for sleepwear. No matter how many times I explained that my favorite things to wear were made of flannel or soft, worn cotton, He never seemed to "get" it. Sleeping in the buff just never held any real appeal to me. I guess that's just another way He and I never found a way to "connect."

So imagine my surprise when, last night, after my shower, I just dried off and got into bed. It was warm at Chez Mags, and the cool cotton sheets felt really good. (There's a history behind these sheets, mind you. They used to be on one of the beds at my family's vacation home in Kentucky, and it feels good to sleep in them.) Not only that, but for the past year, I've pretty much stuck to "my" side of the bed. But not last night. Last night, I wriggled right into the middle.

It would appear that, bit by little bit, the "old" Margaret is melting away. The frightened girl who clung to what used to be is slowly becoming someone new. And that someone sometimes sleeps buck naked, in the middle of the bed.

Ow ow ow ow ow

I hurt. Every muscle I have hurts. My knees hurt. My shoulders hurt. My hair hurts.

And I'll let you in on a little secret: I like it.

Tonight was odd and amazing and more fun than I thought possible. I had dinner with Kelly. Sort of. I sat at Harry's and ate a burger and let Kelly wait on me. It's one of my favorite things. Then, I dashed out to Lyons to play kickball. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard correctly - I played kickball. I actually made contact with the ball a couple of times.

Nemo asked me ages ago if I would play in this annual event. I reminded him how athletically inclined I'm not, and he insisted it was all in good fun. So I thought, why not?

Such fun. I felt privileged to be included in such a fun group.

After the game concluded (with the Lions whomping the Firemen, I must say) we hung out at the park for awhile. I wasn't planning to go to karaoke, but then, I got the call from Dale. Lea and Andy, Kelly and my hair lady and my eyebrow chick, respectively, were there, waiting to celebrate my birthday month. So I finished my beer and headed to the Tap.

It was a blast. To be there tonight, you wouldn't have known that Dale and I hadn't spoken in a week. It was just fun. We missed Nemo, but Dale played a great NeMedley of his greatest hits. Without him behind the bar, it's a very different place. There's a definite empty space where our favorite bartender used to be, so it was with a bit of meloncholy that we toasted our friend.

I danced all night, practically. After all the activity I've enjoyed in the past 48 hours, I really should have sat down and relaxed, but that just wasn't how I wanted to spend the evening. I smelled like a hideous combination of Deet and sweat and dirt. My feet are killing me. But given the opportunity, I'd do it all over again.

Kate, revisited

I love Kate.

She is a delightful trainer, and probably just the right person to be working with me. She did not get umcomfortable when I cried when she asked me what happened between when I was in shape 10 years ago and now. She made me feel like wellness is not out of my reach. She helped me see that I didn't get into this overnight, so I can't really expect to get out of it overnight, either.

And she got my ass moving.

I took a yoga class, I worked 20 minutes on the elliptical trainer, I treaded the mill ... and after that, I wrapped myself in a lovely towel and sauna-ed myself until I felt like a lady of leisure.

It felt good. I'm grateful for Kate.

Kate

Tonight, I am meeting with Kate, a personal trainer at my gym, for my Body Age Assessment.

What if she tells me I have the body of a 90 year old?

What if she tells me I'm already dead?

What if she notices that instead of treating my body like a temple, I've treated it like a frat house during rush week?

I'm prepared for the worst. We'll see how it goes.

Technical difficulties

I'm sitting on my ball. That's the one good thing in my world today.

So much of the magic that is my job happens on Ivan. That's what I call my computer. It's short for "Ivan the Terrible."

It should be noted that it's not really the computer's fault. Between our IT department (run by a hunky yet helpless individual named, appropriately, Christopher) and the company that hosts our Internet services, I am swinging madly at the end of my rapidly fraying rope.

I'm gonna need more coffee, a large brick wall against which to bang my head, and a big margarita. Just drop them off in the lobby.