Decaf is for Wusses

In honor of tax day, Starbucks is running their “free coffee if you bring in a refillable mug” promotion today, and I went there expecting to find myself at the end of a very long line.  Imagine my surprise when I go straight up to the counter!  Yay!

I was buzzed even before I got there because this morning I put “The End” to Comfort Zone (or whatever it’ll wind up being called; at the moment I’m thinking it could be “Ready or Not” because that seems to be the running theme) so I was already giddy, knowing that I’d spend at least a little while today putting in a few things I forgot and then going back to the beginning and reliving Gabe and Liz’s story all over again.  Yippee!

So I get my coffee.  There are a few options, unfortunately, none of which is mocha (my favorite), but of Bold, Pike, or Decaf, I figured I’d try Bold.  Holy crap is it bold.  I’m practically wired for sound.  I roller skated from my cube to the bathroom, and I’m not wearing skates.  My mind is operating at warp speed right now so it’ll be a while before I’ll let myself go back to the story to do the patching I thought about on the way in.  I’m all too likely to hit the wrong key and watch everything vanish into the ozone.  (Won’t happen; I saved to my flash drive, hard drive, and I emailed a copy to myself.)  The good news is, I can type about 150 words per minute, but none of it is making any sense. 

My boss isn’t coming in.  Fate loves me.

This coffee is REALLY good.  I might split a little early and grab myself another one.  If you’ve seen the mid-to-late 90’s live-action version of “George of the Jungle”, and you know that scene where Brendan Fraser freebases coffee grounds, that’s me right about now.

I am SO going to crash hard some time later this morning.  🙂  But I can honestly say it was fun while it lasted!


This One’s For You

Gonna be a hot one out there today.  We could break records for high temperatures in April.  It’s fine with me.  Way better than looking out at a snow-covered landscape.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, too; it’s pretty in its time, but I’m loving seeing the apple blossoms and cherry blossoms, and the magnolias bloomed last week and their perfume still lingers in the air.  Yup, it’s spring, when this “young” writer’s fancy turns to thoughts of…baseball.  🙂 

This morning on the drive in, I did like I usually do:  turn on the iPod and listen for clues about how the day ahead could be.  Today the theme appeared to be love songs, which was fine with me; I’m still working on the WIP, and even though I’m up to the Big Black Moment, the hero and heroine still love each other deeply.  If they didn’t, they could just walk away, chalk it up to learning experience, and move on.  They won’t, though, because they love each other.  They have a special connection.  As the card my great aunt gave us at our wedding said, “May your love for each other exceed your need for each other.” 

Maybe that’s why I smiled when one song in particular came on.  I don’t listen to it a lot when it does come on; it’s an instrumental, which makes it hard to sing along with while I’m driving.  But this morning I felt like hearing it, letting my soul soak in the essence of its meaning.  It was Clint Black’s “Something That We Do”, and it was the song that played when I walked into the little barn-style picnic area where John and I got married back in August 2003.  For a few minutes it made me feel that same thrill all over again, knowing I was about to commit myself, my life, my heart and soul, to my best friend.  (I could quote the vows we took but I lent the book to a friend who moved to Washington and never returned it.  If you’re reading this, you know who you are.)

John and I go to the same gym but because our schedules are a little off, I usually go before he does.  Sometimes we cross paths, most times we don’t.  A couple of weeks ago, I was on the ARC trainer when I saw his car pull into the parking lot, and I practically jumped off the machine to see where he was.  I remember grinning like a fool because I knew he was coming in and even though we’d seen each other just a few hours before, I’d get to see him again.  It was exactly how I felt when we stood there at the wedding.  Seven years later and the feeling is still the same.  Sure, we argue once in a while (coughcough) but overall, I’m always happy to see him.

A friend of mine told me years ago that the way to know you’ve met The One is, if you’re talking to an attractive someone of the opposite sex and your boyfriend/girlfriend comes along, are you glad he/she showed up or do you wish he/she would go away.  I have yet to wish John hadn’t showed up. 

I caught an old episode of “The Office” last night, when Pam’s parents split up because her father heard Jim talking about how he felt when Pam walked in a room, or the way he knew she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  Pam said her father realized, he never felt that way about her mother, even at their best, and that was how he knew the relationship was over.  I’ve been there before, but now I’m in Jim’s shoes.  I’m right where I belong.

At this moment, John’s just across the room, toiling away at credit & collections.  It’s reassuring to have him nearby all the time.  We don’t always have a great time at work but we’re always here for each other, no matter what.  (I’ll never forget the first round of layoffs.  My then-boss offered me the use of her office so I could privately cry on John’s shoulder.)  A lot of people think it’s not a great idea to always be so close, that we need a little space now and then.  That’s true, and we do make time for ourselves as individuals too, but it’s always nice when we can come together and be Us. 

As the song goes, “Love’s not just someplace that we fall, it’s something that we do.”  Six-plus years and counting, and I’m still perking up when I hear his voice, and I’m still smiling that smile when he comes around.  I hope you’re this lucky.

April Fools

I opened the dashboard, not sure what the heck to write about today.  I only knew I need to write here more, so here I am.

My sister played an evilly great April Fools prank yesterday.  She put a pic of her positive EPT on Facebook, and the caption sounded like, “How could this have happened?”  Mind you, she has a gorgeous 2 year old daughter and a handsome 4 month old son, but one more?  Uh…  Needless to say, I was pretty sure our mom had a stroke when she saw that, because I had a minor one myself.  Fortunately she didn’t wait all day to come back with, “Gotcha!”  (The stick was from my niece’s impending arrival.  Who knew those things kept their color for 3 years?)

My former landlord works at the same company I do, and yesterday he called to let me know, “Your rent is way overdue; if I don’t get a check by…”  Fortunately by that point in the afternoon, I was on to him.  Bruce is a really nice guy, probably the best landlord I’ve ever had.  Hands down, he beats the one who butchered a deer on the deck as I was moving out.  What a psycho. 

Then John sent me an email saying, “McNabb has been traded to Buffalo!” and I happy-danced all around my cube because I love D-Mac; he’s a terrific talent and I think he’d be a great fit for the Bills.  Any Syracuse fans in upstate NY would be thrilled to have him playing for the only NFL franchise that actually plays its home games IN New York.  Turns out, that was an April Fools too.  I got played, dammit.  (There’s still hope.)

It got me wondering why I suck at April Fools.  Half the time when I crack a joke, unless it actually has a punchline, people look at me blank-faced because they didn’t realize I was trying to be funny.  I’ve actually scared a few people that way, too.  I’m not the joking around kind, which is odd because I can make people laugh in emails and in my stories, so why is it, face to face, people are scared of me when I try to be funny.  I told an online crochet group that I was born humor-impaired thanks to my ethnicity, but another lady came back saying her father was off-the-boat German and he was the funniest guy she knew.  There went that excuse. 

There’s also my brother, who can whip out a one-liner that’ll put you on the floor, rolling, in mere seconds.  He was always the comedian of the family.  Unless there’s something our mom should be telling us, where’d he get that? 

A duck walks into a bar…