So Long, Farewell, Auf Weidersehen Goodnight

Well, readers, I, too, have New Years' Resolutions, and unfortunately, one of them includes the dissolution of this blog. A couple reasons:

a) One of my New Years' Resolutions is to begin the arduous journey of fulfilling my professional dream in life. . .to be a mystery novelist. I have to start writing sometime, and since I'm out of the gym for the next six weeks. . .this seems like the perfect time to stop running on and on about the dull minutiae of my day-to-day silly, girly life, and direct that creative energy elsewhere.

b) TJ is kind of sensitive about me "revealing" too much about our relationship. He thinks that I spread every little idiosyncracy that should be kept between lovers to the whole blazing world. We were having a conversation about it last night, and I said, "you know, I really don't. I mean, if we're having a problem and I need to confide in someone, I pick a friend and confide in him/her and I don't like to blazon all our problems to the world. I learned a long time ago that that just gives a bad impression to other people, and I'd much rather advertise all the FANTASTIC, WONDERFUL things you do." This is pretty much true. But I know he'd be mortified to know some of the details I share. . .even with what amounts mostly to an anonymous public. (The blue balls post comes to mind.) And frankly, I DO share the intimate details of my life with my 20-30 closest friends :-) And perhaps it's something I need to stop. . .doing so much of, at least. So when he made the comment, "And God knows what you write on that blog of yours. . .", well, that was enough to cinch it for me. It's just a damn good reason on top of an already good reason. . .to pull my focus inward, instead of outward.

So that's that.

But I'll leave you with a few updates. . .the surgery went well. I am ENORMOUS right now, but they're still swollen. And the lypo looks like it's flattened out my perpetually pudgy tummy for good, I can't wait to see when the swelling goes down. The pain wasn't bad. I was sore for a couple days, but within about 3 days, I was up and around pretty well. I mean, I get tired faster and I'm not headed back to the gym for a while, but I'm at work.

TJ was wonderful during my surgery. For the first couple days, my tumescent incision sites, where they inject the fluid to suck the fat out, were leaking (my surgeon leaves them open because they heal faster). Inside my compression garmet (a girdle you get to wear for about six weeks so the loose skin retracts) were all these gross open incision sites leaking watery tumescent fluid. Basically, I was springing watery blood from 5 or 6 places on my body. So they put, get this, maxi pads on the sites to absorb the fluid, and they just get zipped up inside my garmet until they stop leaking a couple days later. So, every few hours, TJ had to roll me on one side, unzip, check my maxi pads, replace any that were "full," zip me back up, roll me on the other side, unzip, check my maxi pads. . . folks, if that AIN'T love, I don't know what it is!

Still don't believe me? :-) How about this? In the compression garmet, I have to pee through a crotch flap. You heard me. Who wants to uncompress every time they have to pee? But if you're a girl, you don't have very good direction over your pee. The pee would run down my leg onto the edges of the garmet EVERY DAMN TIME until I got wise and made a very wise $1.50 investment of a plastic funnel. So, yes, I'm peeing through a funnel, but before I figured that out. . .TJ would blow-dry the pee off the back of my garmet so I wouldn't have to be wet. (Don't worry, I DO get to wash it!!)

(These are probably exactly the kind of details for which TJ loathes my blog. Oh well, my surgery, my pee, my business.)

In addition, he installed a ceiling fan, vaccuumed up all the dust from every nook and cranny of my room, installed a full-length mirror to view my new Barbie-esque physique, installed a shelf for his own personal items during visits to Savannah, and instituted some "cord management" over the eighteen or so hair styling items adorning my "hair styling center" in my room by mounting a power strip closer to styling center, thereby reducing the need for me to have to perform acrobatics to reach behind the bed everytime I change appliances. Not to mention that he fed my dog, cooked gourmet meals (the best homemade lasagna, we're talking inclusive of homemade meatballs, people!), and generally just did whatever I wanted all week. He's wonderful. I mean, really really wonderful, faults notwithstanding, and I think this man really really loves me a lot. . .faults notwithstanding.

And that leads me to my last reason for saying goodbye. I started this blog primarily as a method to explore the hilarity and unbashed behavior that ensues whenever singleness besets me. . .it may have even been considered a comic escapade, working my way through the men of the South on the quest for "true love." And well. . .I think I've found it. So its purpose has been served, and its life well-lived. If TJ breaks my heart, expect to see me pop up somewhere else on the web with a new, unabashedly inappropriate web-blog chronicling my quest for the perfect man, but for right now, he seems pretty damn perfect for me. Don't worry, I'll still pop in on those of you with blogs from time to time, and I'll be using the same nom de plum, so don't forget Miss Have You. . . (as though you could. Have you SEEN me?!)

The Gift-Giving Insecurity Monster

In the spirit of some other gals I know, who, due to the readership of THIS blog, must remain nameless and linkless lest I get one of them in trouble, I too wish to post about my Christmas. It started off a little shaky. You see, TJ had told me that his mother's gift was supposed to arrive from FedEx on Thursday (he was supposed to leave Thursday night to come down to my parent's house, and then, coming straight to Savannah after that because he's going to stay with me this week, since I have surgery tomorrow). It didn't arrive. He tracked it, and apparently, it was backed up because of the bad winter weather in other parts of the country last week. It might not arrive until TODAY! (And he's not going back to Jacksonville.) When I told him that it was ridiculous to go down today to try and get it, that it could just wait until after he goes back to Jacksonville (in another week--his mom's out of town anyway), he told me that it was ACTUALLY *my* gift.

Now, this is the part where I don't WANT to be petty, I don't WANT to assume that he's going to screw up Christmas, I don't WANT to assume that there won't be ANYTHING to open on Christmas Day, and I'm thinking (in my rational mind) he's not really this dumb, right? He knows how like a kid I am about this, and how I need something thoughtful in glittery paper to open on Christmas Day, right? And I feel somewhat confident that he KNOWS better and certainly, this isn't my only gift, etc. etc. . . .but I also think, he should've ordered it earlier. This wouldn't have happened if he were more diligent. I'm thinking that I'm not special enough to him to make sure that my gift(s) get where they're supposed to be on time! And it's irritating the shit out of me, mostly because of the previous gift-giving horrors I've experienced, see previous post. So, I express disappointment, tell him that these are the types of contingencies that just HAPPEN sometime and that *I* don't like to screw around with, tell him that I'll be happy just to be with him, and whenever I get it is fine, hang up, and slowly but surely, my anger evaporates into horror-filled sobbing. Horror that he could possibly be so dumb and so non-acquainted with me and what I'm like as to not know me well enough to know that having a holiday made special, with bright ribbons and special gifts, is IMPERATIVE. I mean, has he SEEN me? Does he KNOW me?

Thankfully, Newsgirl and RS were godsends. Newsgirl said, "he's fucking with you. And even if he's not, this CAN'T be your only gift." She had actually helped him a bit in the picking out colors department, and knew about the forthcoming gift, and said that she didn't think it would be JUST that (she DID NOT tell me what it was that she knew about). RS AND Newsgirl pointed out that he wasn't dumb enough to show up empty-handed and not to worry, even if he WASN'T fucking with me (he wasn't, by the by). RS said she didn't think he was kidding, because he was sort of being a dick and non-apologetic and saying how it wasn't HIS fault. . .and well, acting like a dick is what TJ does when he feels like he screwed up or let me down or disappointed me. It's a defense mechanism. So, I really was nice to HIM about it. I said the thing about it being a contingency I didn't like to screw with, but I let him off easy and basically said, you know, I'm not going to kick you in the ass about something I know you must already feel pretty bad about. I purged my evil emotions (and even prayed to God to take my evil pettiness away!) and went home and resolved to be as sweet to him as I could possibly be. And who was I kidding? I WAS really happy to see him and spend Christmas with him. I was still a little ticked that he didn't order it earlier, but my tickedness wasn't going to change the outcome so. . .

He came in to my parent's house with an almost imperceptible chip on his shoulder. He was feeling mad because he felt that I blamed him for the mishap. I gave him a big hug and a kiss and helped him unload his car. It was truly AMAZING how quick his attitude turned around. I was sweet to him, and he lost the chip. He saw I wasn't mad. We had a lot of fun for the next couple days, and on Christmas. . .who knew? He WASN'T that dumb! In addition to the fireplace tools I needed and a great big teddy bear I didn't, I got a GORGEOUS new watch, stainless steel, with mother-of-pearl face and diamonds where the numbers are. I got a GORGEOUS anklet (which he thinks are very sexy), white gold, with a diamond encrusted heart charm on it. And the missing gift? A new Coach handbag, classic style, black. (He hates my cotton candy pink Dooney & Bourke, he said he keeps expecting clowns to pop out. To which I respond, if your way of showing me you hate my taste in handbags is to buy me a COACH, fine, I can live with that!)

However, the BEST part. . .I started to think (in my horror-filled sobbing moment) that I was REALLY happy with what I got him. That I thought he would reallly LIKE the stuff, and I was excited to see him get HIS gifts, and if mine was a little late, who cares, right? He is notoriously hard to buy for, but I think I did ok. I got him Season 4 of the Sopranos (he's Italian and from Jersey, what else do you get for someone who's Italian and from New Jersey?), Bushisms 2005 desk calendar, which he read with raucous laughter every time we went into a store that had it, an ornament with little mice and our names inscribed on it (he LOVES Christmas and is very sentimental about commemorating relationships and stuff like that, even though he ACTS like a tough guy). And then, the BIG gift, I got him Tivo. I have it, I love it, and he loves to record his favorite TV programs by VCR, so I thought it was time to move him up in the world. The BEST part was. . .afterwards, yesterday, he said, "you know, this is the best Christmas and these are the best gifts I've EVER gotten from a girl. I have some really horrible gift stories from old girlfriends. But you did a really good job! It's not that the gift(s) have to cost a lot of money, I know I usually make more money than my girlfriends, but I just want it to indicate that the person KNOWS me and it's personal and well-fitted to *me* as a person." And he proceeded to tell me how he got socks and athletic shorts from his last girlfriend after like 5 years together. It blew my mind that his philosophy on gift-giving and his past frustrations HAVE BEEN THE SAME AS MINE! So, I apologized that I got a little bent out of shape over the FedEx incident and told him that I really did trust him and knew that he would come through, but I have some pretty horrible gift-giving insecurities from the past, and I would share some of my stories too. I proceeded to tell him the Braves ticket story. He totally understood.

So, in addition to the Gingerbread Train we made together, all the cute, cuddly pictures we took with my dog, all the lounging around, eating, visiting, and fun we had all weekend, I got GREAT stuff, PERSONAL stuff, stuff that *I* particularly LOVE! And the best part is. . .I gave him the best gifts HE'D ever gotten! And that really did feel better than what *I* got.

Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas!

On the First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me. . .

With the Christmas season upon us, I felt it necessary to opine on gift-giving, especially the sort between boyfriends and girlfriends. Gift-giving for me is a sticky subject. My last couple boyfriends have been ok at it, but there is always the precarious balance between letting them know what you'd like and doing it FOR them. And then, what happens if you let them know what you'd like, and they don't get it? There are some things I feel silly buying myself, but think would be perfectly acceptable and cute coming from a boyfriend (like last year's Legally Blonde Barbie incident. . .as a grown woman, I feel silly buying myself a Barbie doll, but she is dressed in pink and embodies one of my favorite movies and my profession).

Well, let me enumerate some of my worst gift-giving fiascos. . .to let you see just all the things that COULD go wrong. And my caveat is, I am NOT one of those girls who has to have something really shiny, sparkly, and/or expensive to be satisfied that he's done things "right." But I do expect that the man I'm dating actually KNOWS me and KNOWS what I like, which are varied, extensive, and obvious (Wonder Woman, the color pink, beagles, glitter, sparkles, mystery novels, and only about a billion other things anyone who's been around me for 10 minutes could tell you). So, for me, it really is the THOUGHT that counts (as long as the generosity level of the pricetag isn't borderig on chintzy).

In chronological order, the top 5 worst gift-giving incidents in my dating life

October 17, 1997: Atlanta Braves Play-Off Tickets, except I don't like baseball. The first, and most heinous violation, of the spirit of gift-giving: Atlanta Braves Play-Off tickets for my 19th birthday. Notice SPORTS is not on the list above. I do enjoy college football, but not really at this time of my life. And oh, by the way, guess who DID like Sports? Was a sportswriter, in fact? The boyfriend who gave the tickets. Rule 1: don't give baseball tickets to your girlfriend who doesn't really like baseball, but YOU do. Rule 2: when tickets are a gift, a little tangible something is nice too. The worst is, I knew, painfully, that the tickets were coming. I had been informed this was my birthday gift. I tactfully suggested to my roommate at that time, "Oh please dear God, you've got to help him!" So my roommate did a very good girlfriend thing and called him to ask what he was getting so their gifts didn't "overlap." He told her tickets. She suggested that maybe a little something else, tangible, as well, would be appreciated. He got OFFENDED and bitched about it to me that she was all up in his business (after the gift-giving was over). But he did run the idea by another girl-friend of his, who mercifully concurred. My extra gift: Chicken Soup for the Soul. Generic. As though he was buying a gift for a maiden aunt he'd never met. Awful. By the by, his birthday was the next month. We went to Agatha's Mystery Dinner Theater for his birthday. . .I figured we'd done what *he* wanted for *my* birthday, so we'd do what *I* wanted, for *his*. Yes, I'm 100% serious.

September 23, 1998: Sheep Pajamas, p. 37, Victoria's Secret
After this incident, I saw that the boyfriend couldn't be trusted. I then picked out all gifts directly from catalogs, with colors and sizes precisely enumerated. The gift I had picked for our 2 year anniversary, Nick and Nora sheep pajamas from Victoria's Secret. (Sheep is also on the list of things I like, as are pajamas.) I thought, he can't screw it up. He screwed it up. He wanted to pick me out something himself. (Stupid, stupid, haven't you seen that you can't be trusted to do such a thing?!) He got me a charm bracelet, which wasn't bad, but it wasn't what I was expecting. I think I actually cried. I got the pjs for my birthday the next month. Asshole.

Remaining TWO bad gifts, dates unknown, including Bubo, the Heinous Golden Owl
This guy really started to piss me off. I mean, it was really like he didn't know me and just sucked THAT bad. It wasn't just that he couldn't pick out gifts, it was more what that represented. . .that he didn't have the intimate knowledge of me, or the time/effort, to put into picking out a good gift. Remaining two bad gifts: 1) an ugly silver ring with an ugly garnet stone from the discount rack at Rich's that literally turned my finger green. 2) A heinous gold owl pendant. This one makes me laugh, at least. I was a Chi Omega, and our symbol was the owl. This owl was probably 2 inches tall, yellow gold (which I don't wear) with brown metal wings and diamond eyes. It sort of looked like BuBo from Clash of the Titans. It was heinous. I still have it. I love it because it's the worst gift ever.

October 22, 2000: Open Hearts and Broken Hearts
This was a terrible gift. My heart. Given back to me, broken. The week after my birthday. Ouch. But at least I got the Elsa Peretti open heart necklace and matching earrings from Tiffany the week before. I couldn't wear it for about 6 months, but it's a jewelry staple now.

December 25, 2003: The Legally Blonde Barbie Incident
This boyfriend really did do pretty well with gifts, but he didn't like to be told what to do. The boyfriend in the first 3 paragraphs had, of course, conditioned me to tell boyfriends EXACTLY what to get me. And the Legally Blonde Barbie was the only thing I think I specifically asked for. . .again, because I felt ridiculous buying it myself. So, my beagle emailed the boyfriend (you heard me) where he could get it and where it was cheap, complete with web links. . .and still, he ignored it. I figured out that he had ignored it because he admitted he hadn't done any shopping as of a few days before Christmas, and this doll wasn't easy to find, so I sort of said, "Hey, you know, if you're looking for specific things, you're going to get yourself in trouble because they'll be sold out and they won't ship in time for Christmas." Well, he wasn't looking for that specific thing, I guess. (That sort of drives me crazy too, if you know what you want to get someone. . .GO ONLINE AND ORDER IT, so you don't have to worry about something being out of stock, long lines, day before Christmas insanity, etc.) He did end up getting it, he got lucky it actually WAS available at Wal-Mart and in stock. . .but I was pissed that he didn't listen JUST BECAUSE I happened to TELL him something. He had a bad habit of doing that.

The moral of my Xmas gift-giving tales of woe. . .is that, you know what, I'm really not going to tell a boyfriend what to get me. If he can't figure it out himself, too bad for him. And if he's really that good of a guy, with a good heart, who listens and tries and plans in advance and puts thought into it. . .it shouldn't be a problem. He should get it right. And if I really want something myself, I'll go out and get it. But I'm not making any more Christmas game plans for guys too dumb (or stubborn) to follow my well-intentioned directives. I'll save the wish lists for family and friends who like to have the guesswork taken out of it and like to give, being rest assured that I, 100%, will LOVE what they gave me (even if I picked it out). So, TJ, you're on your own. But I have the utmost faith that you'll do a splendid job. Because although you may be a lot of things, you're not an idiot, you're not cheap, and you know what your girl likes!

PS TJ just called. . ."which running shoes were those that you liked again?" (He knows that I can't drop $100 on running shoes since I'm getting, ahem, my new additions. But I need some, and badly. And since I'll be needing to keep my new figure up when I actually CAN make it back to the gym. . .he listens. . .he's good, I think I'll keep him.)

So Sayeth Molly Lightyear: To Spring. . .AND BEYOND!

I talked to my mother this morning. My grandmother is apparently doing exceptionally well! My mother literally said, "I never would've expected her to be doing this well." She said that my granma asked her about her "little dog." And apparently, my grandmother's only seen her little dog one time. Which is great, because sometimes, my grandmother can't remember people's names or the last time she saw them, and has, in fact, sworn that her son was at the nursing home and she saw him outside and he didn't even come in to visit (which of course, is not true). So for her to rememember that my mom has a "little dog," in the face of having her leg amputated earlier this week, is really exceptional! Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers!

My boyfriend. . .is really really sweet. I mean, don't get me wrong, when he's Hyde, he's Hyde. And that is one mean motherfucker you don't want to cross. (No, he doesn't hit me or yell or anything, he's more a silent angry, but damn, he looks mean when he's pulling that shit.) But then he'll do or say something like he said last night and I just think, wow, how can I doubt this man loves me?

First of all, he's staying with me after my surgery and has already asked me what kinds of things I want him to do around the house while he's there. He is Mr. Fix-It. He changes my air filters, checks the air in my tires, installs weather-stripping, wants to pressure-wash my house, puts up Christmas lights, bathes the dog, cooks, puts together shelving. . .you name it, he wants to do it. He just likes to be helpful and useful and nurturing. So there is always a honey-do list of things we can think of to do together, and he's always happy to help, and in fact, seems unhappy not to feel useful! We spend at least a much time at Home Depot as we do at bars. When I suggested a couple days ago that we go to the grocery store the night before my surgery to stock up and make sure we have enough good food in the house, etc., he said, "Don't you worry about that! I'm going to take care of you and cook for you all week!" as though to say, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about whether I'm going to have everything covered because I will."

But last night. . .this is so sweet. We've been talking about going camping sometime. I'm not much of a "roughing it" kind of girl. I mean, if it means going a day without a shower or chipping my manicure, I'm not so sure about it. But I do like cold weather and the idea of scrumping in a tent just appeals to me. And (this is the part he doesn't know) I was supposed to go camping with an ex-boyfriend a few years ago and we made plans to do it and he broke up with me before we ever went. . .so my first real camping trip as an adult. . .never happened. So TJ and I have been talking about it, he was an Eagle Scout and all that mess, but he doesn't have the gear. . .

Last night, apparently, they had a whole set, tent, chairs, and sleeping bags, on sale at Big Lots. He bought it and said that he's going to keep it at my house for when we go camping. He said, "If this isn't committment, I don't know what is!" Ha ha, right? But it's not "ha ha," that IS committment. As another friend recently commented, he IS just that into me. That he has enough faith in our budding relationship to keep stuff at my house for things we may not do for some time into the future. Especially since it's too cold now and we'll probably have to wait til Spring. We're going to make it til Spring. . . and BEYOND. I feel like Buzz Lightyear! I heart him.

10 Things to Be Happy About

1. My grandma had her leg amputated and seems to be doing ok. This is encouraging considering that they put her under on Thursday and then determined that her blood was too thin and that she would've bled to death if they'd operated, which, of course, inspired a lot of confidence in us (that they actually put her out before they deterined this!). And so they operated yesterday. And she didn't bleed to death. But keep praying. . .if you do that sort of thing. Thanks.

2. I like Christmas. It's hectic and a bit stressful, I guess. . .but it's not too bad, and I like all the good things. Christmas lights on my house, my mini-tree with ornaments that ALL mean something, great big fluffy candy cane-imprinted bows to tie around the beagle's neck, baking cookies for my annual cookie give-away in cute holiday tins, Christmas bonuses (please let it be good!), Christmas music that I tend to listen to 24/7 this time of year, in addition to burning a new super-duper improved Christmas Mix CD every year, and days off work.

3. Mariah Carey's masterpiece Christmas Song has a new place in my heart since Love, Actually. "All I want for Christmas is Boobs." Or, er, something like that.

4. Love, Actually on sale at Target for $10.

5. Did I mention my new boobs yet? I am so incredibly excited about them. And to get the fat sucked out of my stomach and saddlebags. Gosh, you just THINK you've seen me now! Wait til you see new, D, me! Would you like to supersize that order? Yes. Yes, I would.

6. An appointment with my plastic surgeon tomorrow. Again, my boobs. They just keep coming up.

7. My co-worker and I have designated December as Fuck Off December. I mean, my billables aren't going up that much at this point.

8. Feeling a bit better about my job security. I don't think I've bitched about this on this blog before, but basically, I'm a young, inexperienced attorney who can't get experience because I'm female and they forget I'm here (in a nutshell). I have trouble meeting my hour requirements. As in, I NEVER HAVE, ha! But I've gotten close and improved a lot over the last 6 months. The bad news. . .my hours for the YEAR suck! But for the last 6 months, they're decent. And there was a partner's meeting on Thursday and on Friday, I had two new projects in my box from one attorney and another attorney was looking for me. . .this means, they're trying to give me more work to help me with my hours. . .and they're NOT going to fire me. Yay. I could repay them by not blogging, but. . .see number 7.

9. Going to see Bridget Jones finally tomorrow with some girlfriends.

10. My boyfriend is a little bipolar (read: Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde) but it appears he can't stay mad at me and is, in fact, severely in love with me. And RS and I have determined. . .that I can be a little Miss Hydish myself, so. . .you know. . .people in glass houses shouldn't throw skeletons and all of that. He's behaving and is going to nurse me through my boob job.

I really don't have much to complain about. I have a good life. Not everything is perfect, and sure, I worry about money, friendships, relationships, fights with Mr. Bipolar, what kind of outfits to dress my dog up in for various holidays. . .all the normal stuff. . .but I've got it pretty good. I hope all of you can say (and realize) the same. Sending Christmas spirit your way. . .

Miss Have You