Picture window

I'm sitting here at the desk in our second bedroom. Tim almost never opens the window blinds because it's too much glare against his monitors. But now that it's after sunset and it's a nice day, I opened them up for some fresh air.

It's also fun to sit here because there are so many birds about. Underneath our pergola is a finch nest. The birds cleverly built a nest by attaching it to the jasmine vines that spill over the edge of the pergola. This way it's well protected from the weather and blends in with the shadows. It took some time for me to realize it was there. Each time we walk out the front door, this poor mama bird dashes off in fear that we're out to catch her. Otherwise, she dutifully sits on what I am guessing is a little egg.

Sitting here, I now realize that our neighbor's tree also has a nest. I always thought they were big clumps of leaves that the squirrels made. Now I see there's a brown dove cozied up on top of the clump. The male bird is sitting on a nearby branch keeping her company. I just hope the cat doesn't get up the nerve to climb that high and attack the nest.

And on a random note, this is Tim's computer I'm typing on. I just noticed to the edge of my Firefox browser window there is a column of icons on his desktop. The eight icons are all Sims games - original, university, nightlife, business, pets, seaons, voyage, and freetime (yeah, that's a good one). The boy is crazy. I haven't seen him play Sims for probably a year. Sadly, the last time he played, his Tim and Pandax didn't do so well. If I remember correctly, Pandax died. Oops. Hopefully real life deals me a better fate.

One quick swoop

I stepped out for a bit. At the last minute, I joined my family for a trip to China. Since my brother's never been, my parents decided to take him on a basic group tour. We haven't had a family trip since who knows when.

At the time I bought the plant ticket, I decided that I might as well since no job offer was near. Suddenly, the day before the trip, I got an offer. I tried to negotiate a little, first on vacation, next on stock options, then on job title, but the HR person wouldn't budge. What I don't understand is that if none of these things are negotiable, then why even ask me what benefits I got at my previous jobs? It would seem she already had her mind made up.

I felt a little at a disadvantage knowing that I was leaving the next day. Normally, I would have liked to mull over the details for a day or two and get advice from friends. Compared to my last jobs, I'm taking a 9% pay cut, one week less vacation, a job title two steps below my previous job, and the rest is about par. On the other hand, my commute is now 12 minutes instead of one hour each way. If one were to count that commute time as part of work hours, I'm making up maybe $10,000 of my salary by being able to sleep in and get home a little earlier (assuming the hours in the office are comparable). I really do want to like this job, it's just a little frustrating to know I could be compensated better. I suppose if I don't like the job, I'll just switch in two years when the economy is better.

It is a relief to know I'll be working again. As much as I enjoy the free time, my mind craves a bit more challenge. I'm the type of person that needs some structure. Every one's dream is to be their own boss, but I'd have a hard time doing that at home. There are way too many distractions.

The trip was pretty good. The biggest concern both me and Tim had was how Mom and I would get along. The thought of being nagged 24/7 for 10 days wasn't appealing. For the most part, she behaved. The one time we had a fight was early in the trip. She came over to our hotel room while my brother was in the shower. We chatted and I mentioned that I hoped to find a little something for Tim. My mother immediately questioned why I would do that. She reasoned that guys don't care and don't need anything. I shouldn't be spending money when I don't have a job. Besides, she felt I already had too much stuff and didn't possibly have any space in the house for more junk.

This really made me mad considering we had just spent the day looking at inexpensive pearls to buy for my sister-in-law. My mom had been asking what my brother had been asked to buy for her. It felt really unfair that we should spend all this time thinking about the shopping list for everyone else and not Tim. After a few minutes of bickering, I got up and told her that I felt she was being totally unreasonable. I never said that I needed to buy something expensive for Tim, it could be something as cheap as $1. Also, I told her this is why I never tell her anything. When I can't even share a simple comment or thought without getting nagged or criticized, there's no reason to say anything. She retorted that she feels it's her right to express her opinion when I'm wrong. Great.

So, I stored out of the room. Unfortunately, I left knowing that I couldn't take the room key with me. It was in the slot that provides power to the room. I wasn't going to leave my brother to shower in the dark. I spent the next 10 minutes wandering the hotel hallways, hoping my mom would go back to her own room. Sure enough, just as I returned to the 8th floor, I heard a door shut. As I walked past my parents' room, I could hear her tell my dad that we had just fought and why. He immediately scolded her for doing so and ask her why she would do such a thing. Her explanation made it sound like she had done nothing wrong and she nervously laughed off the situation. My mom just doesn't get it.

The next day my dad encourage me to find something nice to give Tim. He's great. I don't know how he has the patience for my mom sometimes.

Finally, a couple quick notes about China:

1) Automobiles (especially buses) don't have to stop when making right hand turns; don't assume anything in the crosswalk no matter what the light says.

2) The Chinese have a sitcom which my dad described as their version of the Cosby show. It seemed strange to me to have a show with a family that included three children when Chinese couples can generally one have one. How do people related to the show?

3) The Chinese are learning to use trash cans. There are commercials and billboards trying to demonstrate the idea. As you may know, spitting and other mucus disposal actions are very common. One guy came over to the trash can behind us, pinched one nostril, and proceeded to blow out some mucus. It was not very appetizing. My brother was very disgusted by it all. I said, "at least he put it in the trash and not on the sidewalk." He agreed.

4) Being a flight attendant on a flight to/from China must be one of the worst jobs ever. A large Chinese tour group boarded my plane. When they boarded the plane, they talked loudly and bustled about trying to switch seats with each other. The attendants had a tough time getting them to sit down and buckle in so that we could depart. During the flight they constantly ignored the seat belt sign and announcements, having cell phones on, gathering in the aisles to chat, and using the restroom. During meal services, they never listened to what was being served. For example, the breakfast choices were eggs or noodles. The woman in front of me kept asking for rice. And this group was flying to five different cities during their tour of the U.S.?

5) When it comes to lines, one must be pushy or you'll never get anywhere.

Indulgence

Happy Birthday to a few of my blogging buddies out there! I know you've just had or are about to celebrate another year.

Tim and I celebrated my birthday over the weekend. (Ignore the year, it's not worth mentioning any more.) We started out by having a mellow morning wandering the local Farmers' Market. The weather was perfect, sunny and cool. We picked up some sweet strawberries and some blood orange juice. We also bought a few sweet peppers and squash for a meal I was planning to make for some friends. I didn't realize they were going out of season so I was only able to pick enough for them, not any for us to enjoy.

As we were leaving the market, Tim noticed the flower stand and asked if I would like a bouquet for my birthday. I hesitated because I will be leaving town next week and didn't want to spend the money if I wasn't going to have time to enjoy them. We picked an inexpensive arrangement of tulip that are just about to bloom. It's really lovely to look at the mix of colors when I'm in the kitchen.

When we returned home, Tim cooked up some eggs with cheese, turkey, and greens. He decorated the plate with a few strawberries. What a lovely breakfast treat. Even better, Tim's mom and aunt were sweet enough to call and wish me a happy birthday.

I immediately started on my cooking once we cleaned up breakfast. Our friends just had twins and we were planning to visit in the afternoon. If there's one thing that I've learned from friends is that it's hard for people to eat during the early months of parenthood. The best thing friends can do for new parents is to bring them so tasty homemade food. I found a great mac and cheese recipe that's been quite tasty. I figured this would be a good comfy food for them, balanced with the fresh peppers and squash.

For fun, I curled my hair and buffed my nails to a perfect shine before we headed out. I dresses up in a cute BCBG black skirt that sits high on the waist to elongate my stubby legs and wore a burgandy top with a floral, satin trim. It's fun to dress up after months of jeans and knit tops. The only faux pas was that Tim chose to wear some black jeans and a reddish-orange suede shirt. We almost looked like twins. (Yipes, is this what happens when you live too long with one person?) I had showed my new outfit last week, but he forgot that my plan was to wear this for our night out.

Meeting the twins was great. Other than a couple of brief cries, they were very well-behaved. Eight pounds can really hurt the arms quickly. I found myself trying to rest or lean on furniture to lessen the load. The parents seemed amazing collected and content for all that's going on. Of course, they are incredibly organize with a clipboard to track all the bodily changes of the twins. We haven't seen them since January, so it was really great to catch up. Hopefully they'll be able to take small outings with the kids by summer.

For the past few weeks, Tim had been telling me that we'd be going to a restaurant based on a Top Chef episode. While I thought it would be good, I wasn't totally excited because I had been openingly wishing for two other restaurants for a couple months. I was a little disappointed that he had not chosen one of them. As we drove through the city streets, however, it soon became clear that we were not headed to the restaurant he had been claiming.

Once he punched in the address into the GPS, I was excited. We were headed to a Michelin-rated restaurant that many friends have loved. We each customized our four-course dinner. I loved every dish I tasted - complimentary carrot ginger soup, risotto with lobster and shrimp, seared scallops with a fresh pea puree, quail stuffed with quinoa and foie gras, a perfect strawberry-rhubarb tart, and a little petite four birthday plate. Needless to say I was stuffed. Thank goodness there was a tiny bit of give in my skirt's waistline.

We wrapped up the evening by watching a couple episodes of the first season of Top Chef. I'm pretty sure I know who wins, but it's still interesting to watch because the format and cast of characters is so different from season five. It's interesting how much more I analyzed dinner because of watching this show. Tim was all cuddly and loving. It was a fabulous was to celebrate.

Wimp in training

I tried my best to treat the visit like any other appointment. I was pretty good about feeling normal as long as I didn't think about what had happened and what was about to happen.

The office scheduled me for 1:45pm but told me to come in before 1:15pm so that I could take some medications to prepare me for the procedure. Tim left work at lunch to pick me up and drive me there. I had told him he could take a book or laptop with us so he could do something while he waited. He told me he didn't need anything because he was planned to stay with me the whole time.

When I checked in, the receptionist gave me a clipboard with three documents to sign. The sheet listed out all the details of the procedure, the inherent risks, and the post-procedure care and warnings. We read through it all together to ensure that we'd both know what to expect and what to watch for once I went home. The list was very thorough including a space for an initial next to each post-procedure warning.

Once I turned in my forms, the nurse assistant came out and showed me the pills I needed to swallow. From a little plastic cup, she poured out the three pills. The first pill was cut in half, some Vicodin for pain. The next pill was 200mg of Valium to help my muscles relax. The third pill was this humongous, green oval which I can't remember its purpose. Perhaps it was ibuprofen to help with the inflammation and pain. The main thing was that it was 800mg which must be close the maximum size pill anyone could possibly swallow in one gulp without choking.

So we sat in the waiting room for 15-20 minutes waiting for my drugs to take effect. I couldn't help sit there observing the pregnant women who came through and wonder if they simply thought I was going to my first prenatal appointment rather than ending my pregnancy. It was hard to be in that moment knowing everywhere else around me there was new life.

I felt fine when they called us in. Never having taken Vicodin or Valium, I had been waiting for something interesting to happen. Given so many people get addicted to these drugs, I thought something cool would happen. The nurse took me into the procedure room where a paper gown and heating pad lay waiting for me on the exam table. Tim tried to keep the mood light by keeping my ass warm with his hands while I changed into my gown.

Dr. F came into the room and asked if we had any questions. She assured us that the procedure has a tiny risk of complication and that we could go back to normal after one period had passed. Tim was very struck by the wording in the post-procedure instructions, "No foreign objects should be placed in your vagina for at least two weeks." You can guess at the types of silly comments he made later. He asked whether any tests would be done to determine the cause of the loss. Dr. F. said that's usually not done with a first pregnancy. Despite my age, she said it's rare there's anything seriously wrong and that only if I miscarried again or demonstrated other problems would they perform any tests because of the expense.

Once I laid down and put my feet in the stirrups, the usual examination techniques started. Dr. F. was good about telling me what she was doing a second ahead so that I wouldn't be too surprised. As a local anesthetic, she injected me with lidocaine which quickly became noticeable by a tingling in my mouth. Since I'd had a crown done over the summer, the sensation was very familiar.

What was odd was how quickly all the drugs that were running through my blood interacted with each other. I think I still had my head on, but it didn't feel like it. Moving my head even one centimeter made everything feel like it was spinning. Naturally, as she started preparing for the D&C, my discomfort grew. Let's face it, going to the GYN is never fun. Was the valium working at all?

At one point, she touched me without any warning and I pop up. At the time, I thought it felt uncomfortable, but Tim told me she had just swiped me with a cotton ball. The emotions, the medication, and the discomfort had gotten to me. I remained a good patient the rest of the time and didn't move. I squeezed Tim's had tightly through the cramping, pinching, and poking. Of course, I thought about the baby. But really, what was more concerning to me was my reaction to the pain. Am I a total wimp or what?

The procedure itself does not take too long. I swear the doctor and the assistant were gone within minutes after they told us it was done. The assistant told us to take our time leaving the room. I wanted to get up, or at least turn sideways to try and alleviate the cramping, but my head was having none of that. The dizziness was overwhelming.

I didn't have any feelings of nausea or pain, just the dizziness and cramping. I thought about what labor must be like and scolded myself for whining over this. I mean, come on, if this bothers me, I'm not going to survive labor. This pain can't be more than a five on a scale of one to ten. All I could think about is "wimp, wimp, wimp." It's just like me to think about something totally off the wall when I should be focusing on more immediate things.

I could see Tim and the room fine. Opposite the exam table, I spotted a brown, canister vacuum-like machine. No doubt it was the source of the suction I heard during the procedure. I couldn't help wonder if what was left of our baby was somewhere inside it. Now, it was just a soup of blood and tissue that would be discarded with the other biohazard trash.

I must have tried four or five times to sit up, maybe another three or four to stand. Considering how small I am, those drugs all must have whomped me good. I leaned on Tim the whole way out. I was proud to have survived the elevator ride given that the nursing assistant had said it seems to cause women trouble. I slept most of the way home and proceeded to crawl into bed. I slept away the afternoon while Tim went back to work. I'm so lucky that I have him to take care of me.

By evening everything seemed fine. I was pleasantly surprised that I never felt the need to take any ibuprofen. No wonder there was no take home prescription other than three days of antibiotics. We ate and watched tv together the rest of the night.

Since then, I've talked a little bit about miscarriage with a couple of friends. I don't know how much it helped. The rational side of me already knows all the literature and facts. I know that miscarriage is common early in pregnancy (> 20%), and everything will be fine. Talking about it only seems to make me upset for reasons I can't fully explain. Heck, I even got upset when I open the medical insurance bill for that week. It's wonderful to know I have all the love and support of friends, but it doesn't change what happened. I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm disappointed. Only time can make that all fade. Until then, I just keep preparing myself for better days to come.

Empathy and perspective

One of the things that I feel Tim and I struggle with as a couple is having perspective. I'm not perfect, and I will admit that I'm probably not seeing all of his side of things. It's difficult when you lived more than 35 years only having to worry about yourself (essentially).

The last couple of days, I've been overly worried about the baby. I'm worried because I feel totally fine minus some burping. I've had no breast soreness, no extra peeing, no fatigue; I'm feeling nothing out of the ordinary. They say that most miscarriages happen before the baby is 10 weeks. This is week nine. It just seems too easy given all the stories out there about the typical pregnancy.

I know I tend to worry a lot. I also tend to express myself out loud, whether or not my thoughts should be heard by others. Maybe my worrying is wearing on him. When we finished watching tv tonight, I mentioned that I'm really concerned that the baby is gone.

His response sounded very annoyed and hassled. He asked why I had to say such things and why I was worried so much about something I couldn't do anything about. Perhaps that's true, but I just felt like I got no empathy from him, no attempts at reassurance, something other than his agitation.

I was angry. I was hurt that he shows no concern. I don't understand how he can be so... casual about it. He hasn't even made a real effort to read any of the pregnancy books I've brought home. There's a part of me that's disappointed. I thought he would be more curious to understand what's going on and what's to come. Am I expecting too much?

I've told him before that his responses to my requests and complaints *sound like* he's annoyed. Tim says that's not what he intends. But somehow, that's what I hear. We haven't figured out how to adjust this so that I don't think he's being insincere or mean. It's frustrating because neither of us want to fight, but this is taking some time to move past.

It could very well be that I sound whinny or obsessive at times. It's hard for me to know when to keep things to myself and when's it's important to express how I'm feeling. This is the part of marriage that takes work. I just hope we can be successful in making things between us better before a kid comes along.

In the eye of the beholder

It's been almost six months since Tim moved into my place. While we love being together, adjusting to each other's habits has been a challenge.

The one thing everyone warned me about was his lack of cleanliness. His apartment was a disaster. Literally, no one, not even I, visited the inside of his apartment the last couple years he lived there. No one other than me had seen his place all the eight years he lived there since the first month he moved in. I believed him when he said he'd treat his living space better if he owned rather than rented.

Now here were are. With the wedding, the renovations, and my lack of a job, we have yet to hire a housecleaner. Ideally, they would come in one day each month and eliminate the squabbling that comes about. Perhaps once we have the new kitchen and bathrooms, we will hire someone.

For the time being, it's a struggle between taking initiative to clean and making an observation on the accumulation of dirt. The problem with that is the sense of time tends to get lost. I've also learned that his level of cleanliness is different than mine.

As Tim was washing the dishes the other night, I asked him how he likes living with me. He smiled and hugged me but added that I complain about his lack of interest in helping me clean. He said that what bugs him is different than what bugs me. For example, he doesn't like coming home to find that I leave dirty dishes on the counter. It clutters the kitchen counters when he wants to use them.

In contrast, I notice dirt much faster. Last week, I finally cleaned our bathroom sink. The chrome drain was covered in a layer of slime with spots of mold. The sides of the basin looked like birds had come by with all the white toothpaste streaks. Yet, though I thoroughly cleaned it so the basin was a shiny cream color and the chrome drain sparkled, he failed to notice that anything was different when he came to brush his teeth. The same goes for the stairs where his black sock lint catches along with my hair. I know he said he vacuumed but it still looked dirty to me.

I will give him credit on the toilet. The first couple months the smell drove me nuts. Guys must build up an immunity to the smell that even a few stray drops of pee can produce. I'll come home on a Sunday afternoon and find a strong smell of bleach emanating from our bedroom. That tells me the toilet has been cleaned.

I'm not sure how we can come to a comfortable middle point on some of these things. Clearly, the housecleaner would be best. Still this difference in vision extends beyond things hiring someone can fix. We're both a bit packratty which means there are stacks of papers and random souvenirs collecting on any clean surface. As we prepare for the baby, I've been trying to implant the message into his head that things need to be packed, donated, or thrown away. It's hard, but we need to push each other to get this done.

Up for air

Don't know if anyone's still out there, but I've returned for a little bit. I'm happy to say that I'm now married!

It was pretty those last few weeks before the big day. You always think you have more time and then suddenly you realize there are more things to do that weren't on the list. So yes, Tim and I spent every waking hour that wasn't spent at work, at home designing programs, sewing, typing up instructions, putting together gifts, handling last-minute requests.

The weather cooperated wonderfully. No one could have asked for more perfect weather. At the rehearsal, the sun felt like a heat lamp on the skin. Thankfully, the weather report was accurate in predicting that the temperature would drop to a very agreeable 74 F for Saturday. There was only the slightest breeze to blow papers, hair, or veils. Everyone was amazed at our beautiful backdrop.


The only wrenches thrown into the mix were the parents. Tim's family wanted to have a private lunch and did not want to come down to the hotel for photos in the morning. Because of this last-minute change, we did not think about the fact that the boutonnieres and corsages needed to be transported to the ceremony. Hence, only my family wore flowers during the wedding. We didn't realize this error until we got back to our hotel room and found a shopping bag full of flowers next to the door. Oops.

My mother was a more thorny problem. Basically, we accept the fact that she was looking for excuses to dislike Tim's family. (They aren't good enough for me in her eyes because they are a different ethnicity and she strongly holds to old country prejudices.) The rehearsal dinner was a nightmare. The Chinese banquet place essentially tried to squeeze out a little more money by short-changing my mother-in-law. We had been promised four tables seating about 10 people each. Instead, they squeezed us into three 12-15 person tables. Then they proceeded to only serve enough food for 10-12 people. My mother immediately came over and yelled at me for embarrassing her in front of the relatives.

Being at my breaking point from general wedding stress, I couldn't help but start crying. I lost my appetite for half the meal. It took numerous conversations between my dad, my mother-in-law, her Chinese friend, and my aunt before my mom could at least calm down. Did it even occur to her how much she was embarrassing me by making such a fuss? I think she blames my in-laws for being cheap rather than realizing the restaurant manager was trying to pull a fast one. I don't think I saw her smile all night. Thank goodness for my reasonable, patient, and loving father.

There's never enough time to talk to everyone, but I feel like I was at least able to say a few words to all my friends over the course of the evening. Tim and I did our best to make sure that we ate most of our dinner. We managed to stay on schedule and still have fun.

More details later...

Clocks and other things that need to be synchronized

Tim and I made the BIG move this past weekend, he moved in. Over the past few weeks, he's been frantically packing his things. It kind of threw a wrench into our normal habits. The Olympics probably didn't help much because that was time he could have spent cleaning and organizing. Instead, he watch with me for a couple hours and then stay up a little later to do some packing each night.

Originally, he had proposed moving in at the end of July. That was back in May. But time passed and he did nothing. So at the end of June, he asked if it would be better to wait until after the wedding. I told him I didn't like the idea. For one thing, why not save the money paying rent and a mortgage (you know, practical me). For another, the holidays and travel will make it more complicated to try and move after the wedding. Hence, he gave notice on August 1st.

I *finally* got to see his apartment the week before the move. Slowly, he was bring over boxes of things while I was desperately trying to donate away clothing and junk to make space (something I'm still doing because I have such a hard time parting with perfectly good things that take up space in my closet ;)). The place was just as I remembered it - dusty and messy.

The dust was sooooo bad, that on moving day I insisted he had to wipe down anything that came into my condo. I actually set up my vacuum on the driveway and sucked up every nook and cranny of dust and dirt on his mattress before it set foot in the house. When I shook out his flannel sheets... well, I guess this is what it would be like to be caught in Pigpen's dust cloud .

By then end, he was packing everything and worrying about throwing out stuff later. As a result, we also have a storage rental full of boxes. Every weekend when it's not about the wedding, he has to try and get rid of stuff. My fear is that it won't really happen until we buy a house where he can spread out the junk in a garage - oh joy. Not that he'd keep it, just that we have to drag it around for a little longer so that he can take more time to sort through it all. Ugh. (Thanks goodness I try to throw out or donate at least two boxes of stuff every year.)

It's about day four of living together. I know everything is hunky-dory this week, but I know it's going to start feel weird. After all, it is my place and I haven't made much space for him. I still need to clear half the bathroom drawers for him. We both would love to have a living room that's livable. For someone who's been as messy as Tim, even he finds the random boxes and papers a little frustrating.

The important thing for this week is working on sleep patterns. I need to be at work after 8am. He complains when someone schedules an "early" meeting, meaning 9:30am. His usual work hours start at around 10:30am. That translates into an 11pm wind down time for me whereas he tends to stay on the computer until 1am. This doesn't work when the bathroom is open to the bedroom.

I hear him brush his teeth at night and then he likes to chat in bed for at least 30 minutes before sleeping. I like talking about the day with him too. The thing is that I'm ready to fall asleep before he reaches the bed. In the morning, I feel bad making all kinds of noise at the sink when I know he could be sleeping.

Tim's been very sweet about it. He says he doesn't mind getting up early. He simply does more online reading in the morning. As I left this morning, he promised that we'd go to bed by 11:30pm tonight. It is nice to know he's always there.

Changing the details

Now that there will soon be a man seeing me every morning and night, I’ve considered what to do with my current stock of underwear. Do men really care about what their women wear?

I have underwear, I swear, that I can date back more than ten years. It’s still mostly wearable. If you examine closely, you would see that the small elastic threads woven into the band are disintegrating. No doubt the years of hot dryers and stretching it over my bum have worn them down. Still, the cotton is in good shape. Gradually, I have thrown out a majority of the underwear from that era of my life as I convinced myself that underwear that needs to be held up by my pants is probably not ideal. The other thing that works well is asking myself, “what do you want people to see if you end up in the hospital?”

How do people decide when it’s time to throw out underwear? Until there’s something clearly wrong with it, it gets worn, washed, and restocked into my drawer, then the cycle repeats itself. With clothes, the criteria are complicated yet clear, it’s either the wrong size (i.e. it’s too small) or it’s gone out of fashion. Underwear is such a daily thing that I don’t really think about it. Unless I need something that doesn’t create panty lines, is low rise, or has athletic qualities, it’s just something to keep my bum covered. I'll pick the color or fabric that fits my mood. My inventory runs the gammut - granny panties, thong, lace, bikini, boy shorts, in cotton, spandex, nylon, and mesh. It used to be all cotton, but the synthetics have creeped in over the years. I still like the idea of natural, breathable fabric, it just doesn't hold up the same way. Maybe it is kind of like clothing in how it evolves.

I’d be curious to know what the average number of panties stocked by American women is. I must say that I probably have a good months worth of underwear, partly from trying to infuse my drawer with newer looking underwear but also because it certainly saves me from doing my laundry more frequently. (After all, small loads waste water so why not wait until the load is full.)

As I try to streamline my closet and drawers for Tim’s impending move, I find it hard to let go of underwear that’s still good but maybe not the most attractive. Going back to my earlier question, “do guys really care what underwear you wear?”

When I asked Tim this question the other day, his honest but appropriately worded answer was, “I notice when you wear panties I like.”

There have been many clearance sales over the past month. I made myself browse through the piles of colorful panties to look for cute patterns and colors that would be eye-catching for Tim. I want cute, I want playful, I want sexy, but I definitely can’t stand uncomfortable. A part of me is having fun because the stuff I picked out is cute. Another part of me wonders how long it will matter – does it, will it always?

I tested the first new pair out last week, a black nylon panty with lace edges and a red and pink cherry pattern. Yeah, he noticed. :)

Smile fatigue

This weekend will probably be the closest we'll come to knowing what it will feel like on the wedding day.

Every Saturday seems to start with me struggling to wake up in the morning. Shifting to a "real" work schedule after more than a year of easy commuting. Friday night is my boring and simple chance to get some rest.

The first thing on the Saturday agenda was my makeup trial. I had to be at the mall by 10am to meet with Painter. I also had to be ready to meet for lunch at noon and then take off to the city for engagement photos. Getting out of bed at 9am gave me about 40 minutes to wash up and curl my hair. While I was out, Tim had to iron his shirts.

I'm not one who wears much makeup on a daily basis. A typical morning for me includes brushing my teeth, washing my face, brushing my hair, and moisturizing my face. My makeup regimen involves brushing a little color over my brows and adding eye shadow to the corners of my eye lids. (Okay, when I'm feeling particularly bare, I use some liquid eye liner to compensate for my miniature eyelashes.) In other words, I know virtually nothing about hair and makeup. This part of the wedding process makes me feel absolutely helpless.

Painter is a referal from my former co-worker, Hen. Her sister and Painter once worked together. My concern is that she's rather expensive, $300 for the wedding day. At least I didn't have to pay for the consultation. Since she works at a cosmetics counter I simply get a from makeover. It's a great way to test things out.

She seemed like a nice, friendly person. I was a little worried about the amount of eyeliner Painter wore under her eyes. It's definitely too dramatic for me.

It's amazing how many layers of cleansers, moisturizer and base a face must have before putting on foundation and powder. How did someone come up with all this stuff? This is how Painter assured me that the makeup would last throughout the day. (There's also the option of paying more to have her come back midway through the wedding for a touch-up.)

Overall, she did a pretty good job. I loved the lip color she chose. The eye shadow was a bit stronger than I wanted. She was very easy going about softening the color a little. The one noticeable issue for both me and Tim was that the makeup seemed to enhance the fine wrinkles around my eyes. The last thing I want is for close ups of my wrinkles during the wedding. I have this problem when I try to apply makeup to myself. Shouldn't a makeup expert do better?

As soon as I returned from the mall, I picked up Tim and we went to sample our wedding dinner. The salad was tasty but I was a little disappointed with the small and tightly packed leaves. I guess I'm used to going to restaurants where one gets medium to big sized whole leaves. It just looks more appetizing. The salad did taste good.

The next part was interesting. The waiter brought out three large plates. The fish, New York tip, and chicken breast were quite generous in size. While I was looking forward to tasting the fish, the presentation wasn't appealing. The filet sat upon a bed of colored greens and small white beans in a ragu sauce. Honestly, I thought I was eating BBQ baked beans. It looked totally casual and not wedding-like. I don't need to pay $10,000 if I just want to serve my guests BBQ beans. Tim thought the food was good. I told him I felt it was okay but nothing fancy. In the grand scheme of things, I figure no one will remember the meal unless it's really bad. This will probably be fine (but I'm sad we won't get to have the Chinese banquet dinner.)

With that done, I headed home for a quick touch up of my fading curls and just enough time to iron one shirt. We each packed five outfits for the photo shoot not knowing what kind of weather or backgrounds to expect.

It turned out to be quite a tiring afternoon. Our photographer is a family friend who is just getting into wedding photography. We get a good deal on the photos, but I have to say it was probably much more time consuming and required some patience as she's still learning. I'm sure a seasoned photographer would have had us done in a couple hours. We went from 3pm to almost 8pm.

We tried to take pictures in front of city hall and in the major shopping and tourist area. It's funny how many people will stop and stare to try and figure out what you're doing with a photographer who's carrying two fancy cameras. We also found a few colorful buidling facades against which we did some poses and jumps.

Our last stop was at the beach. The location is a VERY popular one for engagement photos. We couldn't help but laugh when we arrived because it was so easy to spot the four other couples walking about with their photographers. Still, it's a beautiful location so what else can one expect.

Since it was already 7pm, it's was getting rather cold. It's challenging faking being happy and in love when you're body is telling you to put on a jacket and run back to the car. The incoming high tide also made it challenging to shoot shots along the shore because someone always needed to keep an eye on the waves and signal if it was time to run away from the fast waters. It made for some close calls and good laughs.

Naturally, we were all hungry and cold once the sun disappeared. I quickly suggested we find the nearest hot pot restaurant. It wasn't the greatest food, but it was reasonable, plentiful, and WARM.

Tim and got home around 11pm. Needless to say, we quickly showered and immediately went to sleep. I can't believe how solidly I slept considering I did get any exercise. I was so deeply asleep that I accidentally elbowed Tim early in the morning because I forgot he was there.

[Yawn...] Okay, now I'm tired from reliving that. Time for bed. :)

All about me

As I mentioned, my birthday just passed. Since we could celebrate on my birthday, Tim took me out for a nice dinner the night before. Other than some loving acknowledgement of my birthday throughout the day at the wedding, I didn't get anything else related to my birthday.

I whine a little towards the end of the night because I realized that Tim had not given me neither a card nor a gift. I was a little hurt. It didn't have to be some grand gesture, certainly I consider the engagement ring to be his "big" purchase of the year. Still, a small, token gift seemed appropriate to me. I told him of my disappointment and hurt feelings. I couldn't understand why he had done nothing.

In his usual fashion, he shrugged it off as nothing. You have to remember that nothing rattles him be it work deadlines or emergency situations. Sometimes his calm disposition can be frustrating.

When I whined and complained enough, Tim's comment was, "you're going to ruin everything."

His comment made me wonder what he could possibly be talking about. When he observed my confused look, he added, "we going to have that nice dinner with your brother next Friday." (My brother's birthday is close to mine so we decided to taste a more upscale experience.

So does that mean he's holding something back? Or is he counting on paying for my meal this week as my gift?

Since we haven't ever actually been "together" during my birthday I really wanted something special. In the past few years, we've simply been friends during the time of my birthday. While he's always done something fun and unique (treasure hunts leading to books or music), I guess I was thinking he'd make this a more memorable "first" birthday with me. Why didn't he think it important to at least give me a card or a little gift on my actual birthday? Am I being a spoiled brat or is it fair that I feel somewhat cheated in my birthday expectations?

Extreme adventure

So Tim and I are back from vacation. If you ask him, he'll say it's the absolute best vacation he's ever had. I do have to credit him with adding things to our itinerary that I never would have thought of doing. He'll also tell you, "you should go to New Zealand."

Anyone of any age can go there and find something wonderful to do. If I were younger, I certainly would have spent more time doing adventure sports. If I had kids, renting a camper and driving from park to park would have been fun. If I were older like my parents, visiting wine country, wildlife viewing and hot springs would have been fabulous.

We did a combination of these things. I can now say that I've been canyoning, black water rafting (which is really spelunking), jet boating, tramping (i.e. backpacking), hiking on a glacier, and... (drum roll please) bungy jumping! While I love adventure, I must admit I may not have thought of these things if it hadn't been for Tim's enthusiasm. We both desperately want to do more canyoning, but it's hard to find around here.

Of course, there are plenty of things we didn't have time to do - sledging, canyon swing, parasailing, sky diving (not sure how enthusiastic I am about this), helicopter tour, river boarding, mountain biking, and fly by wire. Just the thought makes me excited and tired. The dollars can definitely rack up but it's something I feel is worth trying once in your life.

On the mellow side, we did plenty of sight seeing. There was a Chinese Lantern Festival happening just when we arrived. It was fun to walk amongst thousands of locals and view the lanterns lit up at night. Being relatively close to Asia, there were plenty of food stands offering a wide variety of eats.

Down south, we did some animal sight seeing. The yellow penguins are a cute but odd breed of penguins. Unlike other penguins we learn about, these are solitary creatures who don't flock together. We also viewed a colony of albatross and cruised in a bay to see a rare breed of dolphins.

Did I mention we ate wild foods - grubs, worms, crickets, whitebait and more? I can't say I'd recommend too many of the offbeat items. Even horse burgers didn't really agree with me. The cricket was really just crunchy with no taste other than the satay sauce. We highly recommend the whitebait sandwiches.

If you're thinking, "gosh, she's taking awhile to post details about her vacation," I have good reason. From the start of the vacation, Tim was trying to figure out a good day to propose! Except for the days we were in wetsuits, he was always carrying around my beautiful engagement ring.

In Fiordland, there are areas that were carved out by glaciers to form beautiful water inlets. We took a cruise in one of these areas. The day started out rather wet and overcast, but on the return trip to the docks, the sun came out. The waterfalls along the mountains provided spray that created beautiful rainbows. As we left the boat, Tim spotted a viewpoint and wanted to take pictures. After a couple shots, he held me in his arms, kissed me very lovingly, told me he loves me, and asked me to marry him.

For a split second, I thought he was joking since he's commented like this before without being totally serious. But somehow I knew this was different, still it wasn't totally what I expected and my tongue started to formulate a question as I spotted a ring out of the corner of my eye.

"Are you going to get down on your knee?" I asked. (My friends all laugh at this.) So Tim back up a few steps, kneeled down, and said, "Now, will you marry me."

And then, I said, "yes." We're very happy.

It's been a bit crazy from the minute I returned. In my mind, I realized that we either had to rush to beat the rainy season, get married indoors, or wait until NEXT spring. Tim is pretty laid back about the timing. He thinks that if we take more time, I'll be less stressed. I don't think he quite understands that the longer it goes on, the longer I'll have to stress, fuss, and anguish over every little detail.

I think we're both surprised that in just ONE WEEK, I've managed to find a place for the ceremony and reception that we both can be happy with without breaking the bank. There are a couple wonderful hotels that we'd both love to use, but the $10,000+ more it would cost seems unjustifiable compared to saving the money for a house. We'll hopefully have confirmation by next week. This is another fine example of how, when I put my mind to it, I can accomplish things fast!

At the same time, many friends are telling me to remember to take time to just enjoy being engaged. I do hope to do that here are there. We have already gone through some minor tiffs. I told Tim that if he can stand me through this whole process, then we'll be good for many years to come.

It's kind of weird to have so much going on all at once. Meanwhile, I'm negotiating a job offer. If I do start a new job, I definitely like to get some wedding planning done so I can focus on learning the new job and not look like a total flake.

Now get out there and go to New Zealand!

When is a date a date?

Lately, Tim and I have been talking about a lot of things including someday buying a house, engagement rings, and how cute the kids will look if they take after me (all his commentary). All in all, we're having a great time together and thinking about the future.

The other night, I was watching the episode of Gilmore Girls where Dean surprises Rory with a three-month anniversary celebration. Tim had just come over, so I couldn't help half joke, "how come we never celebrate anniversaries like that? When is our anniversary?"

He could only shrug his shoulders. It's a topic we've discussed once or twice. The fact of the matter is, neither of us could tell you a date that we'd consider to be our anniversary. For one thing, since we've dated twice, do you count the first time around or do you start anew with the second time?

Fortunately, both dating sequences begin in June so we can at least agree on that. Tim, being the romantic and sweet guy he is, thinks back to our first date. Sadly, his computer crashed last year, so he lost all of our e-mail exchanges that he'd saved over the years.

So this morning I dug up what I could find in my e-mail account. I sent him what appears to be the e-mail from the day after the date. But when I asked Tim if this helped, he told me he was expecting an e-mail mentioning the time we met up for coffee after the group cruise (where he formed the interest to ask me out).

He says he considers this to be our first date? We agreed to meet, by e-mail, to settle accounts from the trip. How in the world would he count this as a date? He didn't even pay for my coffee. I know he had intended to, but I ordered first and he didn't stop me from paying. Shouldn't both people *know* it's a date to be considered a date?

It was during this coffee meeting that he asked if I would go to a movie with him. That's what I consider to be our first date.

We're only a few days off from each other so I suppose it doesn't matter a whole lot. Plus, Tim says it won't matter because the only thing he plans to pay attention to is the wedding anniversary. I kind of wish for now we could at least celebrate something... . Other than that, we're doing well.

A year of potential

Happy New Year!

This must be the most laid back and relaxing winter holiday break ever. I can't remember sleeping in so much and being at work so little. Climbing three flights of stairs today to get to my desk was a major reality check for my thighs.

Visiting went relatively well. Tim still think my mom doesn't like him even though I thought everyone did nicely in terms of conversing and spending time together. It was no surprise, however, when, as we drove towards the freeway in the early hours of after-xmas shopping, my mom asked, "so why do you like this Tim?"

"He's a good guy, mom, He's smart, thoughtful, and sweet." I said this knowing little good would come from my praise.

There was silence in the car. I was driving, so I could not turn my head to gaze upon my mom's face. I then turned it around on her, "what do you think of him?"

"I'm not going to say anything," she said firmly yet nonchalantly as possible.

Needless to say, the rest of the brief conversation amounted to vague references to Tim not being good enough and poor assumptions on her part about his family being inferior. Oh well.

Despite that, Tim and I had a great time. I drove him around my old neighborhood on Xmas day. We walked along a bluff to see the views and enjoyed some time at the beach people watching and listening to the waves. It's hard to complain when it's a breezy 68F.

And now, it's back to reality. I have a big report to finish by Friday, but I'm more preoccupied with preparing myself for a possible pink slip sometime in the next couple weeks. That being said, I polished off my last revision of my resume and sent it off for three jobs this morning. All three are a slight stretch beyond what I do now, but all would be great opportunities to learn something new.

Considering I haven't looked for a job in some years, I expect that my first interview will be a nightmare regardless of how much I prepare. Let's hope my first interview is at a job I realize isn't the best fit for me. I'm scared to think of going to an interview, but at the same time I'm excited at the idea of being challenged.

Quality time weekend

Sorry, been meaning to post this but things have been busy.

I had a fabulous weekend. Tim and I watched "Knocked Up" on Friday night. It's a pretty funny movie though some of the humor was definitely male-oriented humiliation and toilet humor.

On Saturday, I dragged Tim out early for a special sale on outdoor gear. I'm headed to Africa and need to get some last goodies. I was especially excited to get some carbon trekking poles that normally cost a bundle. I already have the standard aluminum poles, but there's nothing like lightening the load a little. Afterwards we head out for a day in the city. It was really relaxing to sit on our travel chairs in the park and enjoy all the goings-on. To test out my new camping pillow, Tim suggested we "camp" on the living room floor for the night with the windows open to simulate the cold. So cute.

On Sunday, I met up with Is and Ci. This was our chance to catch up on some girl talk. I'm not totally close with them, but having very similar family backgrounds makes it easy for us to empathize with each other.

The morning could not have started out more crazy than people ending up in the wrong places. I thought specifying downtown would have made it clear but apparently not. Ten minutes after the meeting time, I was still waiting. I called Ci and she said she was already sitting at a booth. The hostess overheard my reaction and immediately suggested that she might be at another location. The local breakfast place, I forgot, has multiple locations.

Sure enough, Ci was sitting at the mall. That's the newest diner, one that I always forget exists. I immediately thought of Is. She tends to get lost easily. When Ci called her, it sounded like she was headed for downtown. But on a whim, I called her to double check. As soon as she answered the phone, she said, "Where are you guys? The place is closed."

Yup, she went to the original diner, which is three blocks away and only open on weekdays. After giving them both directions and waiting for a booth, we finally sat down to brunch. What a stressful morning!

We had the usual catching up over minor dramas such as Ci's husband running into his ex-girlfriend. I told them about Tim. The biggest topic of conversation that day was exploring how our attitudes about dating and marriage have evolved over the years. Naturally, they were curious about my change of heart with Tim. Is is having her own issues with Irish as she's unsure about the next step after almost two years.

At some point, I asked Ci how she knew that Cy was someone she wanted to marry. She explained that while he may not be the love of her life, he's what she's looking for at this point in her life. She mirrored some of her mother's choices at that age with her own priorities. Her honesty was refreshing to me.

I know some people would be aghast at that kind of comment. After all, we grow up with fairy tales about love and how it's the only reason to be with someone. But let's face it, love isn't everything, not in today's frantic world. If we all lived in bubbles, sure, it would always work out, but we live in a constantly changing environment.

Ci talked about how the two of them fight, maybe more than what she perceives to be normal. But then, he's intelligent and stable. Perhaps ten years ago she would have looked for someone more "wild." We all agreed that when you're in your twenties, it's easy to say "let's see what happens."

We talked about how we all have been programmed to believe we want this perfect Asian man that will also please our mothers. Subconsciously, we know we are still trying to please our parents even though we constantly struggle against their wishes. They'll never be happy with our choices whether it be the jobs we take, the money we spend, or the men we date.

Is is dealing with her own issues. She been dating Irish for some time now. Generally, the impression is that he's a good guy who wants to be with her for the long-term. She, however, is struggling with what's lacking in him. He's tall, self-sufficient, caring, and funny. What he lacks is a college education, a well-paying job, and a stable family background. Maybe this doesn't make sense to some people, but that's what you learn to look for and know that you're parents will be looking for if you have a background like ours.

While she finds it empowering to have to take the initiative with financial decisions and other practicalities, I know it's not the image she envisioned for herself. She is a bit of a princess type and has previously dated guys who always took care of her. I think she's struggling with the idea of being the one who wears the pants for the family if she marries Irish. She knows he's a good match for her despite those challenges.

Probably the telling question Ci offered was this, "Can you envision that your man will be there to push your wheelchair when you're old?" She laughed with a bit of fear that Cy would not be good about that. On the other hand, Is and I were confident that our men would support us through anything. It's a good feeling I suppose.

What happened to you?

I was watching a rerun of "Gray's Anatomy" last night. It was the one where Meredith's mother is lucid for a time. She wants to get to know Meredith and acts all nice. It's clear Meredith is happy as she tries to hint at the joys in her crazy life. Unfortunately, all her mother hears is that she's not being aggressive about her job and that some man is distracting her. Clearly Meredith was hoping for a more touching "reunion."

As I watched, I couldn't help think about my own life. There's a part of me that's pretty competitive and sets high expectations for myself. I've never been happy with who I am because I always thought I could do better and feel like I'm not living up to my potential. I meet people who are far smarter and far more socially skilled than I will ever be. It's frustrating sometimes, but on the other hand I sometimes don't want to be on that path. It would require me to give up part of who I am now.

The other reason watching this struck a chord is because I've been keeping a secret from most people until recently. I haven't talked much about dating because Tim and I have revisited dating each other. It started after my vacation earlier this summer. Being apart, it was clear we missed each other. After some talks, we went on a couple "dates." I put that in quotes because we spend so much time together as friends, it barely seems different.

Things are going well, and, in fact, he's the one who went with me on a tropical vacation. We had the best time and really enjoyed just being together. There's truly a special bond between us. The vacation is probably one of the best I can recall.

That said, however, some of the things that were a concern for me the first time around are still there. At least this time, we're talking about them. He knows that I don't appreciate his badly timed humor. I recognize that I can nag and whine a bit too often. We both need to develop some patience and learn to constructively discuss things.

Tim was very understanding about my preference to keep things quiet for awhile. Given our history and a handful of well-meaning, but nosy friends, I wanted to avoid immediate pressure and curiosity. If we couldn't work things out, I didn't want to have to explain again a brief attempt at dating a second time. Enough time has now passed that I feel like we're really working at this. It's also clear that Tim has gotten to a point where he no longer wants to dodge people's questions about his dating life.

We still have some obstacles to overcome. There's one big one we're tackling now. It's complicated and a bit too personal for me to write about just yet. Unfortunately it's something that must be worked around rather than fixed or changed, so it's going to be a longer process. In my opinion, there'll be some sacrifice from both of us on this matter. I don't like that either of us will have to lose anything, but hopefully there's enough else to make up for it that we won't notice in time.

For me personally, the next hurdle will be my mother. On one hand, she'd be happy to just know that I'm not alone anymore and that maybe I'd be married someday. On the other hand, he's not the right ethnicity in her eyes. He's also not tall enough, not from a good family, blah, blah, blah. She will look down on him (and Tim knows that). I dread hearing the judgemental comments that she will share with me whenever we talk. I don't know how to manage this part. It is what it is.

All that matters right now is that I'm happy. I love knowing he's going to give me a hug and kiss me when I see him. I know that he loves me for who I am. I look forward to cooking meals and sitting down to eat dinner with him. Whatever happens, I'm having fun and can enjoy life for a little while. These are the times I hope I can look back on years from now when I need a smile.

That burning feeling

It's my psycho time of the month, so my imbalances could be manifesting in the form of illogical desperation. Bear that in mind as you read my current line of thinking.

I met up with Strategist at a local Starbucks that he suggested. I dressed in some dark jeans and a cute, white, hippie top. He texted me to let me know he was wearing a gray t-shirt and khakis. Boy, we are talking casual here. His t-shirt was some worn, dot-com logo shirt and he wasn't even clean-shaven. It just didn't give me the sense he was very serious about the meeting.

The Starbucks line was unreasonably long, so we went around the corner to a smoothie place. We sat for about two hours chatting mostly about traveling, some about work, and some about family. He was definitely curious to know what I was like. He asked if I thought I was like my parents. He asked if I ever had pets. We had a decent time, but there's something about his demeanor that was reserved or disinterested (or just out of it). I wanted this to go well, but I honestly can't say it was anything more than friendly. He didn't say anything that indicated he wanted to see me again. So, should I wait to see if he'll contact me or do I write him back with some friendly banter? How much effort do I put in going forward?

1of1, as always, was happy to see me. I sensed a hidden boyish excitement and nervousness in him when we meet up. He may have even mentioned me to his mom (he asked if she'd heard of the company where I work). We sat for awhile, just talking. He told me about a conference he had attended during the week. I was surprised at how long he went on about it even though I'd never really asked anything regarding it in the first place.

After our stroll through the park, we stopped for restroom break at a cafe. I then suggested we stay for a drink on the patio. 1of1 was a little embarrassed to realize he'd left his wallet in his car. I happily paid for our juice, it was no big deal.

As we sat on the patio and he talked about his upcoming class reunion, I thought to myself that he's not so bad a guy - he's smart, clean, attentive. I thought, "maybe he will grow on me. Would it be so bad to be cared for by a nice guy?" We did chuckle and have a fun exchange of stories.

His height and his nerdy movements still bug me. At one point, we were talking about people in their 30s who still live with their parents. He said he has a friend who is basically "owned" by his parents. He lived away from his parents for undergrad, but otherwise has lived in the same room in his parents' house since he was a child. It's so bad that one time last year, he awoke and dressed as if he were intending to bike to school... high school that is. Then, he realized that he actually needed to drive himself to work. Yeah, *BIG SIGN* that he needs to get a place of his own.

This is when I got on my soapbox and said how I will never allow my grown children to live with me (except for short-term needs to due to finances, medical emergencies, etc.). I preached about how it's unhealthy for both sides. Now, what do you suppose 1of1 was thinking when I said this given that he's been living at home for more than two years now? Here he was commenting about friends and acquaintances of his as if they were in a different world. I asked him a little about his interactions with his mom. At one point, he paused, nodding his head, and said, "yeah, I know I need to get out. Maybe next year when my dad retires." (His dad travels for his job.) His mother thinks he should buy something now. His father thinks he should rent or stay at home until he gets married. I said nothing. Frankly, I didn't know what to say because it's just not very appealing to know all this.

Four hours passed and I decided it was time to head out. 1of1 asked if I wanted to get dinner, but I declined saying I already had plans. As we said our goodbyes, he asked if anyone was giving me a ride to the airport for my upcoming vacation. "Yikes," I thought, "this is a little soon for such a gesture." I told him my brother's giving me a lift. His hug was a little tighter this time.

Honestly, I'm dumbfounded as to what to do. The word "date" or "relationship" has never even come up in conversation. I don't feel like there's anyone I can confide with because I've gotten to a point where I'm uncomfortable revealing my dating life to my friends anymore. The married gals just don't seem to understand (or maybe they know something I don't want to hear). Tim is my best friend, but this is definitely something I can't discuss with him given our history.

When I have some time alone to think, I consider my situation. On the one hand, 1of1 does not fit the image of the man I want. It's like those factory irregulars you can buy for a discounted price. They explicitly remind you that the blemishes or flaws do not affect the performance of the product in any way. But I hate feeling like I have to settle for second best. That's when I try to ignore the little superficial things and think about what I need in a husband. I could have a nice life. Maybe it wouldn't have the passion or excitement I seek, but does that matter after a awhile?

Naturally, I start comparing guy I meet with guys I've dated. In this case, I think about two guys I've dated, both good guys but relationship where I had my doubts. There are times I think I kept myself in the earlier one because I thought he was a good candidate for marriage. He won me over with his thoughtfulness and romantic gestures. We got along well. There was nothing really wrong, but in the end he got cold feet as he realized it wasn't for him. We would have made for a nice, arranged marriage.

Then there's the ultimate comparison to Tim. He was very excited when we started dated. Admittedly, it scared me a little because he was so intense. At the same time, I'm glad he was so open about discussing the potential of the relationship. I'm not good at knowing how to bring up these topics and I didn't have to worry with him. Still, there was always this nagging feeling that he wasn't the one. We weren't in the same place, and my feelings of guilt forced me to break it off. We're best friends and I can't imagine life without him. Yet, as much as yearn for the idea, I still don't we could ever successfully get back together. Damn these unexplainable things! How much do I sabotage my chances for happiness by comparing new guys to Tim?

Between my upcoming travel and his, I figure I have a few weeks to think about the situation with 1of1. My gut says that this won't make me happy in the long run. Another side of me says that 1of1 is a good man that I should get to know better because he's someone who is compatible and would marry me. How many chances do I have left? Why pass someone up who willing to accept me and likes me the way I am just because he doesn't fit the mold? I want to be loved; I don't want to be alone anymore. Could this end up working if I stick with it a little longer?

Ever heard of the corn dilemma? You're walking through a field of corn. You must pick one ear of corn by the time you come out at the other end of the field. You may pick one and *only* one. You'll see ear after ear of big, juicy corn with perfectly straight rows of yellow kernels. So the question becomes, when do you know to pick a particular ear. I feel like I passed by the good corn and am now in a patch of slightly flawed corn, be it is small kernels, missing kernels, crooked rows, or discoloration. The edge of the field is in sight. Do I take the best among what lies in front of me, or hope that there are a few good ones left up ahead before I must exit the field?

Maybe I should ask my therapist for some mind-quieting medication...

V-ideo day

Tim and I like to watch "Lost" together on Wednesdays. (I hate how ABC has messed with it lately.) We used to record it and then watch the video later. But since I have HD, we try to watch it live so that we can enjoy the better picture. I jokingly asked him last night whether we should watch it together this week. At first, he blankly asked me, "why not?"

After a bit of a pause, he said, "oh, because it's Valentine's Day? Why, do you have a date?"

"No, just checking. I didn't know if you were busy," I joked.

"You gonna give me something?"

I thought, "Cookies?"

He continued with our playful banter by asking, "will they be heart-shaped?"

"No," I said. "And do I get something? A yellow rose with pink edges?"

"Nope."

Yeah, it's just another day to us. I told him that maybe I'd go out and eat by myself for dinner. Tim asked if it was a strategy to potentially meet a guy. No, it's my twisted way of taking myself out of my comfort zone and learning to be comfortable with doing things alone. We'll see if I actually go do it. I'm leaning towards ramen or sushi. Yum.

On another note, I spoke to Designer over the phone. He sounded like a decent guy and we had a friendly hour chat. There were a few pauses, but I made sure not to panic and try to fill the dead air with nonsense chit-chat. I've been trying to teach myself that a short pause is better than sticking your foot in your mouth. Besides, it was a great way to make him work at the conversation a little. ;)

He said he'd call me again later this week. I know I should just let things progress naturally, but the analytical part of my mind is starting to wonder how to extract those important bits of information that will help us decide whether there's potential.

Always assume they'll run

Tim just rang me at work. The *second* day he drives his "new" car to work, he was hit by another car. He was rather sad. He whined that maybe he should continue to drive his old car for a couple more weeks, but who's to know when these things will happen.

While waiting at a light, he suddenly felt a jolt from behind the car. When he looked back, he saw a guy in a light truck. Tim's best estimate is that he got hit at 5-10 mph. Once the light changed to green, he moved over the to right with the truck guy behind. As he stopped the car, he saw the truck accelerate and take off. He got most of the license plate but isn't sure.

What a coward to pretend to be a good citizen and then run off! People are so bad. I've heard stories like this from other people. One guy even went so far as to pretend to exchange information but gave a fake name and phone number.

And the thing is, the damage is only to the car's bumper (small crumple), but it will probably mean spending over $500 bucks to repair or replace it. It's not worth reporting to the insurance company because it's basically the cost of the deductible. Tim also thinks it's not worth reporting the accident to the police because he doesn't want it to appear on his car's history report. That means the idiot truck driver is going to get away with this. That sucks. What can you do?

I can only hope Karma will get that driver back somehow.

What happens in time

While Tim was hanging out with me over the weekend, he lamented about girls not wanting to date him because of his height. Once again, I tried to lessen the impact of his comment by assuring him that he's a good man. He does have a girl in mind at work, but he's moving slowly on testing the waters given it is a co-worker (different department).

As we talked about dating, I admitted to him that sometimes I still wonder if I should have dated him longer to give us a chance. After all, we get along so well and enjoy each other's company. Tim chuckled an I-don't-think-so laugh as he said, "no."

When I asked him what he meant by that, he explained that there are things he likes about the way he lives his life. He said that it wouldn't have worked. We're different people. I couldn't get him to be very specific. Part of me thought that wasn't fair because how does he know we couldn't have found a compromise?

Moreover, the reason his response bothered me is because it felt like more confirmation that I'm unmarriable - no one can stand to be with me. Tim wouldn't say it, but I know that it sounded like if I hadn't broken up with him, eventually we would have broken up anyhow. That made me sad because I think about how excited and happy he was to be with me those four months we dated. Look how much it's all changed. I feel like that is what has and what will happen with every man I date long enough.

Of course, when my reaction went off the deep end, Tim tried to remind me that people care about me. They invite me to their parties. They like having me as a friend. He reminded me of all the fun things I have going on in my life. Still, it's no consolation when you've just been dropped on your head.

It's confusing because he says he enjoys hanging out with me. At the same time, when I complain about dating and share my fears about not being accepted by someone, he criticizes me for not trying to date and spending too much time with him. Sometimes, I still think he harbors some resentment and hurt towards me for the reasons I stopped dating him. (I learned a huge lesson about never giving specific reasons about break ups to anyone.) He questions how picky I am and my concerns about practical qualities (i.e. what's important to my mother). He knows me well enough that I recognize his points have some merit. Maybe he's being harsh, maybe I'm just too sensitive about this topic. I don't like talking about these things with him anymore.

Just last week, when I was feeling down about myself, I asked him if there's something about me that people don't like, he pointed out something that really stung. He said, "you're a bit self-centered. People probably wouldn't want to be around you after an entire week of traveling with you."

He said it very factually and with all honesty, but it hurt. He explained that I prefer to talk about things I'm interested in and that I don't listen. I felt so small when he said those things. I could only think, "this is why I will always be alone." I thought I had been doing better about that stuff, but apparently nothing has changed. All I could do was start crying. This was over the phone with Tim, so all he could do is ask if I was okay. He suggested that I just go to sleep and I'd be alright in the morning. But I haven't been. I hate thinking that he puts up with me in some way. How am I suppose to be okay when my best friend says that I'm not a good person?

It makes me fear saying anything to people. I feel like I have to be on my best behavior for people to like me. I don't know what to do. How do you enjoy life knowing that... that you wouldn't be anybody's first choice... for anything?