The obligatory wrap-up post

It’s the last day of November, and the last day of NaBloPoMo. I can’t believe I made it. And I can’t believe that I actually thought it was fun. So anyway, something that’s been on my mind.

Privacy and Anonymity Concerns on the Internet.

Let me say this. I really hate “private” blogs. If they’re on blogger, they don’t show up in my Google Reader. That’s the first thing. The second thing is that I get nervous for these people. That they are going to feel too free and possibly reveal too much. Let me back up. I had an incident with a woman online. I’ve gone over it here before, and I’m not going to re-hash it, BUT, I’m the first to admit that it is totally my fault that she knew where to find me, and that she had access to pictures of my daughter, my husband and me. And I supplied none of this info on a blog, I didn’t even have one then. This was all through private email.

Anyway. I understand wanting to know who’s reading. I get it. But I urge you to consider that if you can’t write it in public, don’t write it at all. Call a friend, maybe. I used to post my rants to a “preferred list” MySpace blog, but that made me nervous, so I just stopped. I self censor myself OFTEN, and I wish I could be more forthcoming. As far as I know, none of my family or friends (bloggy friends excluded) read this, but even so, I try to keep it only to things I’d say to his/her face. Maybe not stellar content, but I’ll breathe easy if they ever do find this site.

Here are some things I see people do that make me cringe.

• Reveal their last names
• Reveal the name of their town
• Show a picture of the front of their house.
• Posts or pictures that might really embarrass their child when s/he gets older. For example, one blogger wrote about how much her daughter loved getting her temperature taken. Rectally. And that she’d bribe her with it to get her to stay still during a diaper change. You see?

I’m not telling you what to do. I’m not telling you what to write. Just know the risks. And if I were you, I’d follow those same rules even if my blog were private. That’s all I’m saying.
I know I’m not a poster child for blogging anonymity. I openly complain about my job, which just ask Dooce, and others that have been fired for what they wrote on the internet how smart that is. I have posted pictures of all of us, a lot of them unwatermarked. I’ve slipped with The Highlander’s name and Ducky’s name a few times. I also blab it to just about anyone who emails me. I’ve also used the protected post feature for a video that revealed Ducky’s full name. I’m guilty of all these things. But as far as I know, I have still not revealed what town I live or work in, any identifying characteristics about Ducky’s school, or even the car I drive. Do you know how BAD I wanted to post a picture of my car on the tow truck? I even added “Rest in Pieces” in MS Paint.

Anyway, I didn’t mean this to be a lecture. And I’m not thinking of anyone in particular. Just please, be careful. I can still enjoy your writing without knowing all of these incidental facts about you.

I do believe I will be taking the weekend off from blogging. Maybe even Monday too, because I have off. Later!

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2007: The Highlander’s company went out of business and he was unemployed until April. A somewhat stressful time for us, but the timing of me getting that job never seemed more appropriate. It was nice that he was home during tax season. I was really able to lean on him if Ducky was sick, and I didn’t have to take off. It was always such a relief to know that he was with her. It’s the only time I don’t worry about her. One week after he started his new job, we got evacuated due to flooding. And we all slept in one king sized bed at the hotel. My ribs are still bruised. I also made a new friend this year, Melissa. Thanks for being there. And Ducky loves Kevin and Olivia. And oh right, I got a coach bag, I mean I turned 30.

If I were a rich girl…..

One of my FAVORITE fantasies is how my life would change if we won the lottery. Let’s say we won a LARGE prize, like a $200 million in Mega Millions, because if I’m fantasizing, I might as well go all way the way.

Money can’t buy happiness, so I guess I’ll have to rent it.

Here’s the sequence of events

• Win the jackpot
• Hire attorney and reputable accountant with money management focus
• Quit my job
• Immediately take Ducky somewhere else. I would not feel secure at home once people found out we’ve won.
• Pay off all our debts. It would be super awesome to just write out all those checks.
• Build a custom mansion.
• Buy my mother a (large) house.
• I’d decide on a one-time cash gift to every member of my family. (Except my mother, we’d continue to support her)
• Start a charitable foundation with about 5-10%, and ALL, and I do mean ALL requests for money would go through the foundation. I cannot hear the hard luck stories, because I’d spent every cent.
• Mondo retirement fund
• Educational/Trust Fund for Duck and any future children.
• Start a company for The Highlander, whatever he wants
• For my job, I think I’d get involved with real estate.
• Finally, I’d travel. A Lot.

You?

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2006: Shortly after Ducky turns two, I go back to work full time and we enroll her in daycare. It was a tough decision, and an even tougher execution. Still is. In December we went to Atlantic City and I won $2000!

I can’t get no respect

Here’s a quickie rant:

I am the Rodney Dangerfield of my office. When we have a staff meeting, my opinions are not only dismissed, they are outright resented. I don’t need this shit. I’m tired of being the Office Mercenary. I could be a prostitute. At least I could take my shoes off and lay down.

Fuck This.

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2005: I’m at home with my baby. I change diapers. I buy stuff. I nurse nurse nurse. My tits are out all the time. My husband says that it’s like I’m taking his ultimate fantasy (tits out 24/7) and then ruining it by putting a baby on it. LOL I shovel baby gruel into her mouth and I clean the litter box. I buy more stuff. I wear sweats A LOT. We have a large 1st birthday party for Ducky. It was supposed to be a joint party for The Highlander’s 30th, but he insists that it only be hers, and I listen. I will never do that again. (Listen to my husband, that is) In September, Ducky and I fly to FL to visit my in-laws who’d just moved there. It took her BY MYSELF. And we both lived to tell the tale. In December, my IUD slips, causing excruciating pain. And since The Highlander was out of town, I had to drive myself and take Ducky with me. Do you know how bizarre it is to have to sing to your daughter while getting an IUD yanked and another one put in? And then to have the doctor join in? How ’bout during a trans vaginal ultrasound?

babyhood. gone.

Here’s Ducky the first time she ever sat in a highchair:

This picture is from October 2004. She was about 4 months old at the time, and wasn’t even on solids for another month and half, but The Highlander’s Grandmother had bought it for her, and had been bugging us to see her in it. So we took this picture to shut her up. It didn’t work, BTW.

And here she is last week:

And before the internet EXPLODES in a fit of it’s own special brand of judgemental-ness, allow me to say that she has not eaten from her highchair in at least a year. It’s still set up in our kitchen because I have nowhere else to put it. (Ditto the car seat in the bottom left corner) I also pull it out when friends with younger kids come over. Also, ignore the recycling. In my defense, that dumpster is like FAR. And my husband drinks a lot of damn soda.

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2004: On January 10, I become Mrs. Michele Q. Highlander. Yes, that’s my name, it’s on my driver’s license and everything. We went to Sandals Royal Bahamian for our honeymoon, and it was the best damn week of my life. Even though I am a take it or leave it kind of person when it comes to alcohol(NOW, that is, we’re not talking about college me), after a week, I was really upset that I couldn’t have a drink. Or stay in the hot tub for more than one second. Or go scuba diving. Or in the sauna. It particularly stung that my so-called husband who doesn’t like heat, humidity or hot weather AT ALL, went in the sauna after his massage while I waited for him in the lobby. His defense was “They told me to go in there”. My very resourceful husband redeemed himself by figuring out that they have one “cold” hot tub on a daily rotating basis. So we jumped in. And for my trouble, it turned my hair green.

People tell me that I gave birth to a baby in June. Yeah right! You have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool me!

30 Years in 30 days: 2003

2003: One of the most eventful years of my life, and that is saying a lot. It seems that I can only handle change if EVERYTHING changes ALL AT ONCE. The first part of the year was pretty swingin’ I was partying and having a great time. I signed up for lavalife.com, on a dare, and went on 123867340-68 dates. That site was FILLED with douchebags, so when my dad’s health was really going downhill around April, I gave it a rest. On May 6, 2003 he died. We’d left the hospital around 10pm, and my mom drove me home (my car was parked in her driveway, because street parking was a hairy BIOTCH in my ‘hood. remember this) I put down my book and shut the light at 12:15. At 12:48, the phone rang. My father had died at 12:15. I was in such a daze, even though I’d only fallen asleep 30 minutes before. I made him repeat it. They called me because my mother didn’t answer her phone (she was so worn out, the ringing didn’t wake her). Now I was in the situation I’d dreaded since my dad got sick. I knew before my mother did, and now I have to tell her. I tried calling, even though I knew it’d be no use. My car was at her house, and I had $2 in my wallet. I called a cab anyway, and had them stop at an ATM for me. I had to wake my mother up to tell her. Awful. My father’s illness and death were the most intense events of my life. I freaked out in ways that I only recognize now. I know now that I wasn’t thinking straight when I just up and quit my job in July. Without another job lined up. After I’d just renewed my lease. My last day was the day before a “girl’s vacation” to FL with my Mom.

By the end of May, I went on match.com. I met many guys, but the first one I talked to is important to the story. He introduced me to the Highlander. He and I started emailing, then we finally had our first date in July. By the time we met, I felt like I’d known him forever. Things moved fast, and we were engaged by September. Later that month, I found out I was pregnant with the fetus about to be known as Ducky. And in December, I left my beloved New York City, to live with The Highlander in The Heart of Darkness NJ. Just kidding! I love it here!

30 Years in 30 days :2002

2002: In January, I took an awesome trip to LA and San Diego all by myself. Well, not totally, I stayed with my mother’s cousin in her palace of a house in Santa Monica, but I booked and planned it solo. I loved it so much I wanted to move there. Being the dyed in the wool New Yorker I am was, that was HUGE. I had a job interview the day I came back, so my unemployment lasted one whole minute, practically. Things end for good with “Conrad”, third time’s the charm, I guess. A piece of advice: Never take back a man who dumps you over email, because he will only dump you again over the phone hours before you break up with him. On my 25th birthday, I broke my arm. But who cares? Septemeber 1st I moved into my own place!!! It was a shoebox sized studio, but it was all M-I-N-E. I rushed out and bought a ginormous couch. I spent Christmas Eve in the ER with my best friend, who had a nasty puking thing. I spent Christmas Day across the room from my father, so he wouldn’t get sick. Turns out I spent New Year’s Eve puking. FORESHADOWING!!!

All I got

I’m busy baking a cherry pie. And this totally counts as a post today.

I’ll do 2002 and 2003 tomorrow.

And, we’re off

I just spent three hours helping my friend pick out a wedding dress. And I was surprisingly into it. When we got back to my house, I actually hauled out my wedding dress and PUT ON MY VEIL. So unlike me. Even though I actually enjoyed myself, I am so glad that I’m done with the wedding stuff. For real. Now will the matron of honor gods just drop the perfect dress into my lap? Because I’m told I can’t wear MY wedding dress to someone else’s wedding.

Seriously. It’s not like there’d even be two of us in white. She’s getting Champagne.

C’mon, I’d leave the veil in the car.

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2001: Same job, same boyfriend, GREAT trip to Chicago. Apartment hunting. Marriage Talk. Breakup. Reconciliation. Fear of Commitment. Fun Times at the beach and Coney Island. September 11. Another Breakup. 20% Pay Cut. Break up sex. Layoff.

eventful year.

I pity you..

Day 23 of BloMe and the well is dry. MORE brain dumpage in no particular order:

We went to Melissa’s yesterday for Thanksgiving dinner. The food was delicious (they made deep fried turkey, which I will be doing once we have a driveway) and there was no traffic (a miracle!)

Me, driving

See, I told you there was no traffic:

We looked at a house today. Not exactly what we want, but getting closer.

Can you believe that stores opened at 4AM??? Crazee. Further crazy is that The Highlander had a pile of circulars and things he was going to go get, but he fell asleep and didn’t wake up until 6. God only knows what would have been left. Just the bloodied remains of whoever got between a “Dancin Granny” and her super bargain waffle iron.

Ducky found her Barbie Laptop. She keeps saying, “I need to finish with my computah, it’s berry nice”

And finally, I picked up my Coach Wallet that matches my bag at the P.O. today. Also, Lion says “What up?”

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2000: This whole one year a day thing sounded so great in say, October. Now, it is so boring. Anyway, I’m still with “Conrad”, still living at home, and finally get a new job, and I finally get back to Manhattan. And all the Y2K hullabaloo was nothing. I actually have an ATM receipt dated 1/1/00 and on it I wrote, “we are Y2-OK!!” I also turn 23 or something. And I went to a lot of Yankee games with my Dad. In April, I went to Puerto Rico. It sorta sucked.

30 Years in 30 days :1999

1999: I’m still working at a kind of thankless job. Still living with my parents. I turn 22. I party (like it’s 1999! haha). One night, my friend Pookie and I went to the movies, and then to dinner at Pizzeria Uno. It was horrible. First because the food happened to suck, and on top of that, we went to the one at the South Street Seaport, so we nearly gagged on the fishy smell. So for ever after, if we’re asked, we’ll tell you that “Uno’s is doooo dooooo”. Over July 4th weekend, I went to visit my friend in Lubbock, TX. It was like a whole different WORLD. Coke is not a synonym for soda guys. Coke is a BRAND of soda. I started my ill-advised “friends with benefits” relationship with “Dean”. It ended with a whimper when I met “Conrad” who finally got a chance to make a move because of a threatened transit strike. He gave me a ride home, and made his move.