What Day Is It?

I just saw I haven’t updated here since late March and now it’s May. Other than the year I took off, I haven’t ever missed a month in the history of pamie.com. [That one unlinked month will drive all my OCD readers crazy. I’m extra sorry about that!]

So first: apologies. It has been a crazy month. There’s the baby, of course, who fills in any available space and time as Qwerty has moved from an adorable lump of flesh with needs to an adorable drooling lump of flesh with needs who makes eye contact and can clearly telegraph, “YOU. I NEED YOU AND ONLY YOU RIGHT NOW. DO NOT LOOK AWAY.”

There’s been a lot of family stuff going on. My day used to be just Cal and me in this house all day long, and now it’s busy with people constantly coming and going. (And no Cal. It’s still not okay.)

Work wise, I’ve got a number of projects going on, including a new book. This means the list of things I’m unable to write about in this space is growing, and I feel bad how neglected this place was over the past month. I promise I’ve been writing things for you to see and read; I just can’t put them here. I promise to write about them as soon as I’m allowed.

If it makes you feel better, the other day Jason and I were watching a sitcom where a plot point focused on how two characters didn’t realize it was their anniversary. This was done to illustrate how their relationship wasn’t going so well.

I turned to Jason and asked, “Did we celebrate our anniversary?”

He just stared at me, his eyes distant, thinking.

“I know it happened,” I said. “But did we do anything?”

“When was it?”

“Last week.”

And then it was quiet for a while. “No,” he said. “No, that day just came and went.”

“It’s not even like one of us has been secretly seething for a week, waiting for the other to remember.”

“No, we aren’t that sitcom. We’re an entirely different one. The one with a new baby.”

“We just… didn’t even notice. We talked about it right before it. I know we were thinking about celebrating, if we weren’t too tired when it came around. And then it just happened.”

“Was it on a Wednesday?”

“I have no idea anymore. I had to ask you if we celebrated it because I was worried that I’d just forgotten a night out.”

“In our defense, there’s been a lot going on.”

“True. I love you, but right now we don’t have time to be in a marriage. We’re just part of the same platoon, both on separate missions.”

“That’s pretty accurate. But you know I got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours.”

Just Another Saturday Night

Sara Hess would really like me to share this photo. It’s what I looked like seconds after I’d arrived at her apartment, after my multi-hour Guild meeting, before I had my first meal of the day, and not very long before our radio interview.

I didn’t know she was taking the picture. But I do know that right before she took it I said, “This is your strike captain, Ladies and Gentlemen.”

reality.

reality is this: i’m currently blogging in my kitchen, waiting for an english muffin to toast in the toaster oven. i am toasting an english muffin because it is the only thing I could find to eat, and i’m blogging because I don’t know what else to do with these five minutes. I’m reading a book and it’s cold in the house and stee’s at poker and I’ve been home for less than an hour and I already went through eight Oprahs on TiVo and can’t find something to do that doesn’t remind me that I haven’t had any dinner. Read more

more excuses

I’m glad Irwin’s giving some excuses as to why the very last thing I want to do right now is write a blog entry. It’s 12:30 in the morning and I’ve just finished writing something that’s due tomorrow. This is the first night in a week that I got home from work before midnight. I got home at 11:15. I’m crazy tired. Whacked-out tired. Tired like I just realized I originally typed this without Irwin’s online pseudonym and then wondered what would happen if I’d outed him and then I giggled because I still need to get him back somehow for capping on my hair last week.

[scripty]
Pamie
Holy crap, it’s early, but we just left here and now we’re here again and do you know what we’re supposed to be writing right now?

Irwin
You look good today, pamie.

Pamie
[after a beat]
Asshole.

[Pamie runs to the bathroom and fixes her hair, which was messed up because it was cold and raining.]

Pamie
Better?

Irwin
Yes.

[a few seconds later]

Kimberly
You look lovely today.

Pamie
Would you do me a favor and tell Irwin what you just said?

Kimberly
[into phone] Why you busting on my girl?

Irwin
Did pamie tell you that she only looks lovely because I told her to pull herself together?

[I know both parts of this conversation because these two are sitting ten feet away from each other.]

Irwin
Did you see her when she came in?

Kimberly
Oh. Actually. Well. I don’t know if I should say anything, but my friends have this expression… “Rode hard and put away wet?”

Pamie
I am through with all y’all.
[/scripty]

And as Irwin mentioned, last Tuesday I thought it was Friday. Actually, just about every day this week I thought it was Friday. When you leave work on Monday when it’s actually Tuesday, it might as well be Friday. I woke up Tuesday at 5:30 (I’d gotten home at 12:30) for my 7am call thinking I was late. Full-on late-for-school-missed-a-test panic, walking down the hallway chanting, “No, my call is seven. My call is seven. My call is seven. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

So I’m sorry I’ve been away. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve had a headache in my eye for three days. I’m gonna go try and get a couple of hours sleep.

[Note: This doesn’t mean if you’re my friend you get to stop calling or emailing, going, “Well, you seemed so busy.” I need you to call me, understand? Pretend I’m away at camp or school and this blog is the postcard I sent that says, “I’m having a great time. Please send pictures of home because I miss you.”]