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Welcome to the World, baby Ben!

When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.
— from Peter Pan, by James M. Barrie

This post is a bit late, but I didn’t get permission to post the pictures until today, so . . .

On January 10, at 4:51 am, my best friend Aimee and her husband Tim welcomed their first child (and my godson), Benjamin Walter. This giant baby arrived after only about 7 hours of labor and he came so fast Aimee wasn’t able to get an epidural. She is officially my hero, because Ben weighed in at 9 pounds, 10 ounces. Yowza.

Here he is just born:

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And here are his little feet:

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And here he is a few days ago, getting settled in at home in Texas:

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Just before he was born, I booked my ticket out to Texas for next month, and I can’t wait to meet him! Plus, I haven’t seen Aimee since she and Tim moved to Texas in September, so this will be a great trip. I just wanted to share such a special thing with all of you; Aimee and Tim are over the moon, obviously, and I just am so happy for them!

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Breaking News: Dentist Married?

Gotta make my plans so in case
I’ll be prepared when I see you smiling
— Des’ree, Feel So High

Ok, it’s not so much breaking news as I-found-out-Thursday-and-forgot-to-post-about-it-until-now, but who’s counting? The deal is this:

My co-worker, the one who referred me to the Dentist in the first place, had an appointment with him last Wednesday. Thursday morning at work, I stopped into his office and said, “So, how’s my boyfriend the Dentist?” (he knows I asked him out). He said, “Oh, you know what? He’s married.” I didn’t even get that sinking feeling in my gut right away because it was just so absurd it didn’t click with me. “What?” I asked. My co-worker said, “I was surprised too, but he said something about ‘my wife,’ and I said, ‘You never told me you were married,’ and he just said, ‘Yeah.'”.

My first thought was that he got married over the holidays to the someone he told me he was seeing when I asked him out in November, but it seems like he would have said as much to my co-worker, and that he would have told me he was engaged when I asked him out. I think it’s very suspect. If he’s been married for some time, why would he just tell me he’s “seeing someone”? And if it’s recent, why wouldn’t he say so when my co-worker expressed surprise at his being married (he’s been going to him for more than a year)? As usual, I’m overthinking things, but this is what I do.

I tried to plot a way to find out if this is true before I go back to see him next month, but I haven’t come up with anything stealthy enough. I don’t really want to just ask him outright at my next visit because a) I don’t want him to think I think he lied to me in November (because I don’t, at least not without more details), and b) I don’t want him to see the disappointment on my face if he says yes.

Hmmm. What to do, what to do. No, really, I’m asking: what to do?

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So That Happened . . .

And Man created the plastic bag and the tin and aluminum can and the cellophane wrapper and the paper plate, and this was good because Man could then take his automobile and buy all his food in one place and He could save that which was good to eat in the refrigerator and throw away that which had no further use. And soon the earth was covered with plastic bags and aluminum cans and paper plates and disposable bottles and there was nowhere to sit down or walk, and Man shook his head and cried: “Look at this Godawful mess.”
— Art Buchwald

Here’s the setup: My apartment complex runs a shuttle service to the Metro station every morning on the half hour between six and nine. At 7:00, 7:30, and 8:00, there are so many people waiting that often one bus can’t take them all. In the past, this meant that if you couldn’t get a seat on the shuttle, you had to make a run for the local bus, but you never knew for sure whether you’d be able to get a seat on the shuttle. After many complaints from residents, the complex apparently worked out a deal with the shuttle bus company that for those three times in the morning, the route would be serviced by two of the larger shuttle buses (which probably seat about 25-30 people each), one behind the other. The first bus would pick up until it was full and then head for the Metro; the second would catch the stragglers at the early stops and, usually, all the people at the last shuttle stop. This system has worked well for more than a month, and I thought everything was settled and going smoothly.

Then today, the first bus arrived in the form of a HUGE charter bus. I’m talking easily a 60-seater. This happened once before, prior to the 2-bus system. I assumed it would be the only bus today, as when all of the people at my stop (the second or third one on the route) got on, it was less than one-third full. But, instead of making the rest of the route (2 more stops), the driver made the first turn off to head to the Metro, which made no sense. Turns out there was the regular second bus behind him. I, who tend to be extra-conscious of the environmental impact of my actions, was quite distraught over this. I was sitting in the first seat of the bus, right behind the driver, and at the first stoplight, I inquired politely why we had such a big bus if we weren’t going to make the full route. Here’s what happened next:

Driver: Oh, well, y’all are usually all crowded together on the smaller bus. I thought I’d take the big bus today and let you have your space. [This is true, but only in the sense that all the seats are filled; it’s not like we’re packed in like sardines or anything]

Me: Ok, but this is such a waste —

Driver: No it’s not.

Me: Yes, it is. It’s a waste to drive this whole big bus that’s less than half-full when there are still other people to be picked up —

Driver: What do you care? Do you pay for it? Do you?

Me (stunned, not as quick on my feet as I would like): No, but —

Driver: Then what difference does it make? You don’t pay for it, it’s not a waste.

Me: Why are you jumping down my throat?

Driver: You people, somebody says something you don’t like, they’re jumping down your throat.

Me: No, when you interrupt me and don’t let me finish, then you’re jumping down my throat. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just bring the regular bus.

Driver: What do you care?

Me: I live in the world; I care because this is a waste of gas to take two buses.

Driver: No, it’s not, don’t worry about it.

[By this time, the light has turned green, and the driver has started moving forward through the intersection]

Me: But it is; there’s no reason to take two buses when this one’s not anywhere close to full. We could pick up all those people and still be only half-full.

Driver: [STOPS THE BUS, LIKE HE’S MY MOTHER OR SOMETHING] Do you want to get off? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to ride. You can get off the bus. Do you want to get off the bus?

Me (shocked into silence for a moment, then): Are you kidding me? Are you serious with this? No, I don’t want to get off. Like I want you take an even less full bus to the Metro.

Driver: Alright then. It’s not a waste. I just take the bus they tell me to take. If you got a problem with it, take it up with the company.

Me: I will, you can be sure of that, and I will also take your attitude up with them.

Driver: I don’t know what you’re talking about, attitude, but you do what you got to do.

[Someone else chimes in, I think in my defense, but I can’t be sure]

Driver: We take two buses every day, and we’re taking two buses today, what’s the difference?

Me: At least one bus is full on the other days when you take two normal-sized buses.

Driver: Whatever. I take the bus they tell me to take. You don’t like it, you call them.

Me: I will.

[We head down the road, the Driver, as usual not obeying basic laws and rules of traffic; towards the end of the ride, he nearly rearends the car in front of us and lays on the horn]

Me (who admittedly should have kept my mouth shut at this point, but didn’t): What good will that do?

Driver: You got something you want to say to me?

Me: Yes I do, but I will talk to you about it at the station.

Driver: I’m not interested in talking you at the station. You got any talking to do, you call the company.

Me: Well, tell me: first you say you picked the big bus so we could have more room, then you say you just take the bus they give you – which is it? [I’m not a lawyer for nothing!]

Driver: I’m done talking to you. You don’t pay for this so what do you care?

Me: I do pay for this, because I pay rent. I asked you a simple question, and I think I’m entitled to an answer.

Driver: You want an answer, call the apartment people, call my company. I take the bus they tell me to take.

Me: Fine. I’ll call them, don’t worry.

[We arrive at the station. He stops the bus, we line up, me first, waiting for him to open the door. He does. I take one step and my foot slips. I land on my ass – hard – on the bottom step.]

Me (out loud, but to myself): That’s just perfect. [I gather my things, get off the bus, and don’t look back]

S’posed to be some kinda irony, or something.

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Open Letter

“I think I need a root canal. I definitely need a long, slow root canal.”
— Arthur Denton, Little Shop of Horrors

Dear Person Who Found My Blog By Searching “I’m in love with my dentist crush marry” Seven Times:

Me too! Gosh, I hope we don’t have the same dentist. That would be awkward. Good luck to you!

Love,
Mel

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I’m a Liar

I get my ya-yas at IKEA. You have to put them together yourself, but they cost a little less.
— Chandler, on Friends*

Ok, so when I said in my last post that I was “working” on Part 2 of the Memory Lane series, what I really meant was, “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about it, I’ve been thinking about it, and I might write it if I feel like it this weekend.”  Guess what?  I don’t feel like it.  Or, I do, but I’d rather talk about my day, because today, I went to two of my favorites stores:  Ikea and Costco.

When I was a kid, going to Ikea was a big deal, because they were exclusively in bigger cities, and it was a whole ordeal to get there.  Ever since college, though, I’ve not been that far from an Ikea for any length of time, but I still love it.  They have so many great things for, like, 59 cents.  It’s unbelievable.

I always end up at the checkout with a cart full of stuff I never intended to buy.  Today, for instance, I went in for curtains and curtain rods and to replace the bowl my cat eats out of (the last one broke and he’s been eating out of one of my cereal bowls, which doesn’t match his water bowl, and if you know me, you know that makes me die a little inside every time I feed him).  I expected to spend about $30.  I left $125 poorer, but I got two chairs for my dining room table (now I can actually eat at it), seat pads for them, three of the bowls my cat eats out of (in case they break again – hey, they really were 59 cents apiece; you can’t beat that), a pot lid rack, a giant poster, some art cards for a frame I’ve been trying to find art for, scented tea lights, some jumbo tealights that match the color scheme in my bedroom (you never know when they’re going to discontinue them), curtains and rods for my bedroom, and a $5 saw (conveniently placed in the store next to the curtain rods I bought, which were 55″ long – perfect for one window, too long for the other – with a sign near them that said “Easy to cut!”)!

If it weren’t for Ikea, I’d have practically no furniture.  I outfitted my entire bedroom in my first apartment after college at Ikea for less than $500, and I still use that set.  When I moved here, I bought my dining room table from them, and I have more Ikea picture frames and kitchen items than I can count.  I love to walk around in there and see all their display rooms; there’s one that’s a whole studio apartment -270 square feet – and it has more cabinet space in the kitchen than I do in 700 square feet.  I want to buy all of the rooms, as-is, and make the Ikea people come to my house and set them up exactly the same.  Someday.

But.  Ikea is nearly always crowded, and that sucks.  If you frequent Ikea, you may remember that they have very helpfully laid out arrows on the floor to show IN WHICH DIRECTION YOU SHOULD BE WALKING as you make your way through the showroom.  You, there, with the overflowing cart and ankle-biters weaving in and out of people’s way: Must you defy the rules of traffic flow?  Why do you insist on walking in the opposite direction of everyone else?  I know you started in the same place we all did, so why now are you backtracking?  There are no checkouts up here, and very few items to be picked up and placed in your cart (and I promise, you can find all of those few items downstairs.  Really.  Trust me; I’m an Ikea expert).  Stop swimming upstream.

Then I went to Costco.  I wasn’t sure what I’d buy, as I live alone and don’t have much storage space, but I was thinking trash bags, soda, and cat food.  They didn’t have the size trash bags I needed, but I got soda, cat food, a crapload of good candy for the bowl on my desk at work (I eat almost none of it, and I never see anyone else take any, but it disappears little by little; I like to imagine the cleaning people hanging out in my office after hours, shooting the breeze while sucking on Atomic Fireballs), four pounds (!) of chicken breast tenders, some cereal, some fruit cups for lunches, and some, um, personal items.  Between that and the stuff from Ikea, I made 5 trips from my car to my apartment when I got home.

Sadly (Jane, don’t be mad), I did not buy a stainless steel Food Saver (it had everything, all the bells and whistles, and canisters!) for the unbelievably low price of $125.  I know it’s a great deal – I’ve priced them, and that model, without the canisters, is usually $160 – and I really wanted to, but I just couldn’t justify it today.  Pity me.

The thing about Costco for me is, intellectually, you know you don’t really need a 500-count bottle of vitamins (honestly, if it’s just you taking them, you can’t possibly use them all before they expire), or a ten-pound bag of rice, or a bag of 50 apples, right?  But then, you whip out your cell phone, which, conveniently enough, has a little calculator, and you do the math.  Those apples?  They’re only about 6 cents each or something.  You can take a vitamin every day for nearly two years for the low, low price of 4 cents a day!  Make all the rice you want for 17 cents a cup!  (I am, of course, making these numbers up because I did not buy vitamins, apples, or rice, but Pico eats for 32.2 cents a day, and my Diet Dr. Pepper is only 24 cents a can).  It’s seductive.  You see the unit price, and you know it’s a good deal, so you buy it even if you don’t really need it.  And then you get a hernia carrying it all up three flights of stairs to your apartment.

One day, though, I’m going to have a giant family, and a house with plenty of storage space, and we will shop at Costco weekly, and I will buy 48-packs of toilet paper, and 72-packs of Capri Sun for their lunches, and 500-count bottles of Flintstones vitamins (they can share; we’ll use it up in no time).  We will be thrifty and we will save a ton of money.  I’m taking applications for a husband who can carry all of that into the house for me.

* Ok, if you read this overnight and are back again, you know I’ve changed the opening quote. Friends just is a better fit for me than Fight Club, but I didn’t remember the quote until this morning. I can’t be sure I’ve got it precisely right, because, shockingly, IMDb doesn’t have this quote on its Friends page, and the only other source I found by Googling was a site in Swedish, and I don’t trust them. Feel free to correct me if you know the right wording, and I’d love to have the episode title that it came from as well.