Emilee, Kindergarten and the Day She Was Born

It’s becoming official on September 3rd.  My Emilee, my little wonder, my girl, will have her first day of kindergarten.  I have her new outfit – of course including new shoes as she IS her mother’s daughter - the school supplies are packed, and she is ready and raring to go.  The problem is, I’m not ready.  My daughter, my little best friend, the love of my life, truly; she is starting school – officially.  The more I think about it, the more I think back to the day she was born … and because her birth story is so crazy, I had to share …

I was told in all birth classes that your first labor should be anywhere from 12 to 24 hours.  So when I felt the first contraction, I thought it was a cramp.  It didn’t hurt, it wasn’t bad.  It was just there – starting on each side of my large tummy and ending meeting in the middle.  It was a Thursday, around 8pm.  I remember this because Friends was on and I was, hell still am, an avid watcher.  I watched Friends that night, and like clockwork, my contractions were coming every five minutes.  I figured this was a fluke, Braxton-Hicks perhaps, but sure enough, every five minutes until 9.30pm I had these contractions.  They slowly became a bit more painful, but I was walking, talking and breathing easily through them.  I decided to take a shower, thinking the hot water would help relax me a bit more.  Once in the shower, my limbs started to shake.  Literally shaking, like I was having a seizure.  I called her dad in to see, and we were both kind of laughing at my legs and arms shaking like crazy.  He got nervous, insisted we should leave for the hospital.  I told him not yet – I had wet hair and make up running down my face!  He was not happy and in his nervousness, was pacing around the house while I tried with my shaking limbs to blow dry my hair and put some make up on.  I remember him yelling “WHY DO YOU NEED MAKE UP TO HAVE A BABY!!”  I remember telling him it’s possible there were cute male doctors and I already look like a whale so to pipe it down.  By the time we left the house it was close to 10:50pm.  I was still doing fine, contractions every four minutes now, limbs shaking still and wondering if this was in fact IT.  I was in some pain, but it was certainly manageable. 

In the car?  Things changed.  And quickly.  My contractions started to bring pain.  Pain to the point that my “Oh Shit” handle on the passenger side was in full use.  I was doing my breathing.  *Out in out in out in outinoutinoutin OH SHIT inoutinoutinout OW OW OW HOLY HELL inoutinout” and by now I’m yelling at HIM to drive faster. He is, of course, now in a panic because I’m breathing like a crazy woman, grabbing the oh shit handle and yelling at him because, clearly, this was HIS fault.  He’s telling me to concentrate and I’m telling him to fuck off.  Ahh the loving days of marriage.  I do remember thinking … if I could walk, if I could just get out of this damn car and walk, I would be fine.  I need to stand up.  OW HELLFIRE OW … When we finally arrived at the hospital, at the ER because now it’s 11.16pm or so, he pulls up and runs around to help me get out of the car.  Someone should have been filming us.  He’s trying to help me out of the car, I’m slapping at him to NOT TOUCH ME, DON’T EVER TOUCH ME and he finally has enough of me and drives off to park the car.  Me?  I’m standing, Praise the GOOD LORD.  Yes! I’m standing and I instantly feel better.  What I didn’t realize, is that my contractions are now about one minute apart and as I started walking I was not having a contraction.  And as I’m walking towards the ER doors, doing fine and dandy, true to form – the minute timer rang and my next contraction hit.  OH BOY.  I knew, instantly, standing was not going to be happening so I lurched myself towards the ER doors and missed by a long shot, but did happen to crash into the side of the ER, which was an all-glass window.  I made such a racket as I was 600 lbs, that I instantly see all 40 heads in the ER turn around to stare at me.  At this point, a security guard comes running out of the ER  doors with a wheelchair.  Now, for any of you that read Random Esquire or my blog regularly, take note of this next part.  So, here comes the security guard with the wheelchair – he trips, stumbles and falls… and the wheelchair goes whizzing past me and the guard is laying on the ground looking stunned.  I immediately started laughing to the point of hysteria, so I slide down that damn glass window, contracting like a BEEEEOTCH and in immense amounts of pain, yet laughing at the fallen security guard.  He finally got up, limped over to the wheelchair and helped me into that chair.  I couldn’t even apologize for laughing as I’m still trying to breathe inoutinoutinoutinout and yelling at anyone who would listen to get me some drugs.  DRUGS DAMMIT.  They take one look at me, and lead me to a secret elevator and right up into the OBGYN unit. 

I’m in triage, and somehow my clothes came off and a nurse checked me.  I hear her yell to get a doctor, that I’m at a 9 – NINE.  I’ve dialated to a NINE.  WHAT? A NINE!  I had my first contraction like a MINUTE AGO and I’m at a NINE?  I immediately started yelling for her to get me some drugs, I am not having this baby without some drugs, I REFUSE TO DO IT.  She insists I calm down, promising me some drugs and all the while, my hubby still hadn’t made it upstairs, there are nurses running around and God only knows where my clothes are.  At this point I didn’t give a damn if every freaking dude in the world was staring at my vagina as long as one of them brought me some drugs.   Where was my epidural?!  They began wheeling me from triage to a birthing room, and I see a man in scrubs.  I grabbed him while I was being wheeled down that hallway, dragging him with me because clearly he was a doctor.  And clearly in my delirium of pain, I didn’t see the mop in his hands either.  While I yelled at him to get me my drugs, I wanted my epidural, he was trying to pry my fingers from his shirt all the while yelling that he was a janitor.  And then … POP.  HOLY SHIT Something happened.  I yelled that something just happened, a nurse looked, yet again at my vag, and started yelling at me not to push.  I’m yelling at her that something just happened and she told me my water broke.  And let me tell you this.  My water didn’t just break – it freaking broke like someone shook up a bottle of champagne and popped the cork.  I finally get into the birthing room, everyone is yelling at everyone else, my husband is still not there and there is no doctor in the room and where the hell are my clothes?   I look up to see my mom walk in the room, and look around in amazement.  I have no monitors on me, no wrist band with my name that they always put on you when you get in the hospital, no clothes and where the hell are my drugs?  I am, at this point, still insisting that this baby is not being born until I get my epidural.  I’m telling anyone that will listen that this baby is NOT coming into this world until someone pokes my spine with a needle dammit! SOMEONE NEEDS TO POKE MY SPINE WITH A NEEDLE!!  (Who’d ever think I’d beg for THAT?)

Right after my mom walks in, a resident runs in the room, and yells at my mom to get behind me so she can hold my shoulders.  God love my mother, but she had no intention of being in the room when the baby was born.  I was fine with this.  Mom tries to explain to the doctor that this is not the plan, the doctor literally pushes her behind me and finally, finally my husband walks in.  And believe it or not, I took one look at him and started laughing because he looked ridiculous – he was somehow carrying the following – my purse, my suitcase, our laptop, the diaper bag, a pillow  and blanket for me and last but not least, the camera AND video camera.  He looks around in confusion and starts to ask what is going on when the doctor yells at him to put that shit down and grab my right leg.  He tells her that I can not possibly be having the baby yet, that our doctor isn’t here!  The doctor starts unloading things from him, and I started yelling because another contraction is coming and OH MY GOD something is happening.  Then hubby is by my side holding my leg, my mom behind me, and finally finally I pushed.  Once, twice and Emilee slid into the world at 11.36pm on a cold day in February. 

I arrived at the hospital at 11.16pm and my beautiful baby girl was born at 11.36pm.

And we have been in love ever since.

And for those of you worried, I did eventually find my clothes.  Never did find my drugs, though.

Twenty Seven Dollars

Is all it’s going to cost me to fly to Vegas in a month.  TWENTY SEVEN DOLLARS. 

I saw this incredible deal ($3 each way, taxes and fees applied), and had to immediately text My Irishman.  You see, the awkward thing here, is that when I’m there, I’m there with him.  When I’m home, I’m not with him.  Well, I AM but I’m not.  You know what I mean.  I date others when I’m home, and in short, he and I simply don’t speak of it.  We keep in contact, talk, text, email, etc.  But we never discuss dating others.  And yeah, I’m good with that.  So, when seeing this incredible deal, how could I pass it up?   Yet I had to wonder – could he have gotten himself a girlfriend?   And if so, how to bring up a visit to him but yet not make it awkward for him to say no just in case he IS dating someone else?  And with further consideration, I decided to just be upfront, typical QTMama style.  I sent the following text message …

Hello handsome!  You have yourself a girly friend yet or what?  

I didn’t hear anything for a couple of hours, which is odd.  Very odd.  But finally, I heard back:

Hello there!  The answer is no, but I do have one helluva hangover.

 Yay!

Hmm … hangovers are no good.  Perhaps I should fly out and make it all better.

<waiting for a response with baited breath>

Seriously?  Get your ass on a plane!  And be quick about it.

Woooooo hoooooo!!

And there you go.  $27 dollars later, I’m going to see my Irishman.

When Was The Last Time …

You were kissed?  Now, this isn’t just any kind of kiss.  I don’t mean a quick “I’m leaving” smooch. Or a smack before bedtime.  I’m talking, good and kissed.   To the point you felt it in your toes? You had the chill up your back?  You were kissed – good and kissed, like the person meant it.  Your face is caressed, their hands are up your neck, wound in your hair.  This is the kiss that left you wanting more …

Cuz for me?  It was early Sunday morning.  <QT whistling happily>

 

[Photo Credit: http://www.kissmedaily.com/rainy-kiss/]

Chicago Shenanigans

I am home from Chicago, safe, sound and hungover.  My weekend with Jenn was wonderful, and meeting up with Random Esquire made it even more fun.  I feel like I ate and drank my way through Chicago, but damn, it was worth it!  So … before further ado, be sure to check out Random Esquire’s recap – and even a few pictures!

Friday night Jenn, RE and I spent well over four hours having dinner, drinking and talking.  While it was my first time meeting RE in real life, we got along as if we’ve known each other forever.  I loved that … everything was comfortable and there was no awkwardness – very much like my time spent with Jane Wonder in Vegas.  So … of course, if you read RE, you’ll see that my very best friend Jenn, who knows me like the back of her hand, had warned RE ahead of time of what I like to think of as “QT-Ism’s”.  Just odd things that I find particularly funny, or “off” things that I do, say, or happen to laugh at.  One of which, admittedly, is when someone falls.  If someone stumbles, trips or takes a spill?  I’m paralyzed by laughter.  To the point of tears, hiding in corners because I’m laughing so hard, or simply having to hang on to someone because I’m laughing to the point of hysteria.  And sure enough, Jenn took a spill, right in front of me.  I immediately turned around, ran into some random doorway – leaving RE to help Jenn get her purse and help her up, and laughed my ass off.  It took me a long period of time before I was even composed enough to ask if she was alright, did she hurt herself.  Jenn, God I love her, forgave me for my incessant laughing and laughed herself.  RE managed to not look mortified at my undignified behavior and off we went to another bar for some more drinks.  Later that evening, we were standing outside saying our goodbye’s when a girl fell trying to get into a cab.  I immediately, of course, started choking with laughter and this time, so did Jenn and RE.  Now let me point out I don’t do this to be rude.  I don’t do this to make fun of someone, I don’t do this for any other reason that I find it … simply sidesplitting funny.  I believe, after much analysis, it’s the noise people make when they fall.  The “OOOH!” in a high pitched surprised voice.  Or the “OOOFF” when they hit the ground.   ….   I can’t type.  I’m laughing too hard right now.  Must. Take. Break.

Saturday night we met RE and this time, Besos was there too.  It’s quite clear by RE is chasing this Latina woman.  Wooooooooooooo woo.   We spent the evening dancing to 80’s music, doing shots, eating, talking and quite a bit of laughter was had by all.  Somehow our conversations came full circle to speaking of sex, porn and … sexual things.   When it was suggested we go to a “Gentleman’s Club” we all agreed wholeheartedly.  (And RE, I disagree with the word “coax”.)  We found our way to what we thought was a simple strip club, but low and behold, before I could even get in the door RE grabbed my arm and said no way, we’re outta here.  <laugh>  So we headed out for more drinks.  At this point, had been joined by more people we had met that evening, and we all sat down for drinks.  Someone asked how we knew each other, I told them Random Esquire was my attorney.  They all looked confused when RE said loudly enough for the whole bar to hear … “Did you call your parole officer before leaving the state?”  I blinked, blinked again, looked confused and said “Well.  No, no I didn’t.”  I left it at that and because smoking is ALWAYS a grand idea when I’m that drunk, went outside to give myself toxins that are bad for my lungs.  I learned, in reading RE’s blog, that while I was gone it was told to the group that I was on parole for stabbing my ex-husband.  STABBED HIM but didn’t kill him.  And RE was my attorney for that case.  So while I’m outside this group of people fly out of the bar and make for a cab like their ass was on fire and the cab held water inside of it.  They barely waved in my direction and jumped into the cab.  And now that I realize I’m a stabber on parole, it makes sense.  At the time, it was quite confusing.  Now, it’s just quite funny. 

After this we met another couple of people and Jenn, RE, Besos and I, in addition to the two newcomers head to a late night bar where alcohol is served into the wee hours of the morning.  Man do I love Chicago.  More drinking, laughing and talking.  RE and Besos decide it’s time for them to head home, and Jenn and I sent them both off with hugs, promises and more hugs. 

The weekend, was perfect. Oh and RE?  I’m not ready to cut my fingernails. 

My Date with Random Esquire … And Jenn

Ok Chicago kicks ass.  And yes, it’s because RE lives here.  And Jenn, of course.  Who promptly decided last night that she didn’t like the fact that she doesn’t have a “cool nickname” in my blog.  <grin> 

Last night Jenn and I had our dinner date with Random Esquire and in all honesty, we were charmed.  Charmed!   And how could we not be?  We had dinner, which somehow turned into a four hour dinner, shared many laughs, many conversations (that somehow seemed to turn into sexual conversations), and many drinks.  MANY drinks.  Speaking of, see Random’s site for pictures.

Tonight we are off to dinner and dancing.  DANCING.  I’m going to be showing cleavage RE, try not to stare. 

Chicago, Spotting Jerks and Other Random Stuff

The plan, as they say, is in motion!  I am officially leaving tomorrow, thanks to Amtrak, for Chicago! Jenn is picking me up at Union Station, and I’m so looking forward to having some much needed girl time and spending the weekend with her.  Also, we are meeting up with Random Esquire, hopefully both nights I am there!  Look out RE, this Mama is arriving baby. 

A single mommy friend, and I’m SURE many of you know her, Ms Single Mama, is off visiting her Dane in Copenhagen.  She asked me to do a guest blog entry while she is gone having fun in other parts of the world, and I readily agreed.  After some consideration, she decided I was the perfect one to write an entry on how to spot a jerk.  Sadly, after Dick, CrapMan, Cialis Man, and a few in between, she is right.  For a laugh, a grin, or some tips … visit my guest blog HERE.  When writing this for Ms Single Mama, it happened.  The revelation.  And truth be told, it hit me kind of hard.  For a LONG time, I’ve been looking for a reason, THE reason, SOMETHING – for why Dick just up and left the way he did.  He could never explain it … I could never accept the non-explanations very well either.  And with time, I have picked up the pieces and tried to move on to the best of my ability.  Yet, I must admit, the question was always there, lurking in the back of my head like a headache.  And then I read something, something that gave me the clarity, the wisdom, the answer I needed.  So see #5 of my Jerk List on her blog, and know that this, to a TEE, is Dick.  And now, well now it makes sense to me.  And I think moving on is going to be that much easier.  Maybe I should change his name from Dick to The Narcissist.  Heh.

During my lunch hour the other day, I had to run to the doctor’s office.  I mentioned to my boys that I work with that I’d be MIA for about an hour as I have a doctor appointment.   One of them pipes up with “Why do you have to go to the doctor?” Now, pardon me, but isn’t this a personal question?  What the hell does he care?  So I stare at him for a minute, stood up, grabbed my purse, and said to him in my most serious voice …

“Because I have LOTS of STDs.  LOTS.“

And walked out.  I laughed all the way to my car.  And most of the drive to the doc’s too.

And O M G Becky, Look At Her .. oh wait, I mean, OMG – Did JEFF MAC, from one of my favorite blogs EVER, Manslations, visit MY blog and leave a comment?  I feel … so freaking cool. 

Happy weekend, friends.  I’ll update when I can.

“Laughter is the Shortest Distance Between Two People”

I read that quote once, a long time ago.  I have no idea where or when, but it always stuck with me.  I believe this, and fully admit that laughing with my friends or with Emilee is what makes my days feel the best.  Tonight, Emilee and I went to visit Shannon and her children.  And while our girls were playing, I was sitting with Shannon and we were talking as we normally do.  I ended up laughing so hard, so very hard,  I cried.  Tears pouring out to the point my mascara looked like Tammy Faye, God rest her soul.  I will get to that story in a minute.

As we are driving home, Em exhausted and asking to go to sleep, I was thinking how lucky I am to have two of the very best friends ever.  Jenn and I have laughed ourselves silly over things, just as Shannon and I have.  And sometimes, it’s SO needed, and it feels SO good just to laugh away your stress, your worries, anything really.  And what’s funny to us, isn’t always funny to someone else, but damn, that doesn’t make it feel any less GOOD.  That led me to remembering all the things we’ve laughed ourselves silly over … and so here you go.  I’m sharing.

Jenn and I once took a girls weekend up north to her parents place.  It was the middle of winter, so very cold and icy.  We stopped to buy a clock from this lady (at her home) who well, makes clocks.  So I pick out the clock I want, buy it, and off we go.  I go to grab the clock and she tells me she’ll carry it to the car.  I tell her no no, that’s fine, I’ll carry it and weirdly, she insists on carrying the clock to our car.  Jenn and I exchange a look and I don’t want to offend her so I smile and say great, thanks.  We are on our way out to the car, walking down her driveway, which is covered in ice.  I slipped and fell on that ice, and there was nothing ladylike about this particular fall.  My purse flew out of my hands and landed in a snowbank, I went the complete opposite way of my purse and landed smack on my ass, hard, with a loud “OOOOFFF” noise and then slid on said ice for what seemed like ever.  Jenn lets out with a shriek and a “are you ok?” and I’m sitting there thinking for the first time ever, my ass bone hurts.  My ass bone.  I looked up to see Jenn trying to dig my purse out of the snow.  The clock lady is all “OH HONEY – I’m so glad I carried your clock!!”  and I manage to stand up somehow, rubbing my ass, and when Jenn and I finally got in the car, we laughed so hard I had to pull over because I couldn’t see to drive.  We laughed to the point of almost being ready to vomit just to the stop laughing for a bit.  I remember my ex-husband calling in the midst of this ridiculous laughter, and I couldn’t talk because I couldn’t stop laughing and he got frustrated and hung up on me, which made us laugh all the harder.  I think, forever, that memory will be something I cherish. 

And tonight, while at Shannon’s house, our girls were playing together.  Shannon’s daughter kept putting on all of her new school clothes, which ShaNaNa was not pleased about.  When she came out in yet another new outfit, Shannon reminded her that she is not the cleanest child and that she’s going to stain all of her new school clothes, and then said this to her little 6 year old – “You’re gong to start school and look like a homo!!” I whipped my head around to stare at ShaNaNa, who hadn’t yet realized she said HOMO instead of … HOBO.  I began to laugh to a point where I couldn’t catch my breath, and then of course, the tears started.  Shan’s daughter, who is by all means, young and innocent, says “What’s a homo?” in her sweet little singsong voice and now, well now, I’m laughing so hard, so very hard that I am trying to take a breath in and it’s almost impossible.  I grabbed ShaNaNa to keep from falling out of my chair, tears are falling without me blinking, my head is in my lap, and we are about ready to pass out from the laughter.  I laughed all the way home, and am still laughing.

It’s not the first, it’s not the last time, but both of these stories are those that I will for sure, most certainly, remember forever.  I love you both, so very much.  I hope you know that. 

 

[Photo Credit: http://carpefactum.typepad.com]

Sexual Misadventures

So this weekend, I’m at a local WalGreens looking in the feminine product area for … oh hell, why be discreet?  I needed some tampons.  And as I’m staring in amazement at all 257 different kinds of tampons, my eyes wander over to the other products they have for women there – including but not limited to … lubricant – warming and regular, feminine cleaning products, and low and behold … my blue eyes spy some FOAM.  The birth control foam.  And into my memory springs a story that a friend told me once … and as I sat in that aisle of Walgreens laughing, I just feel the need to share this story.  And pretty much everyone I know, except Red Wine Gums of course (so baby shield your eyes), has THE story.  The Sexual Misadventure … some time or another that you are just flat out embarrassed by.  Maybe it was the first time with that person, maybe it was the last time with that person, maybe the first time of oral sex, who knows?  But we all have one, methinks.  So with that thought, I must share the story of a friend of mine.  I’d like to use of my own, but damn, this one is a helluva lot better!  So with that …

So, we were younger … she was a virgin still and finally decided, after a year with her boyfriend, the big day was finally going to happen.  She had it all planned out.  Her mom was out of town and her boyfriend was coming to spend the weekend with her.  She did not take the pill, she was on no type of birth control.  A condom she was fearful of … so they decided to not only use a condom but some other type of birth control as well.  After much investigation, she decides on using the foam.  Mind you, this was 15 years ago and while I’ve no personal experience with the foam,   I guess it was more used then than it is now?  What do I know.  I digress.  So … she buys the foam.  The big night comes … she prepares the way most women do.  Shaving of all necesary parts, cleaning of all necessary parts, making herself look gorgeous.  According to the directions she tells me, you use the foam and then should immediately start having the sex.  So they work up to the big moment, she excuses herself, goes and shakes up her can of foam (part of the directions mind you!) and uses a little extra “to be safe”.  So she comes back out of the bathroom … meets her man, they start to get busy again, and low and behold, my poor friend is -

Foaming from the Vagina.  Like Mad Dog foaming.  Like someone Bobby Brady’ed the washing machine foaming.  Like someone put regular dish detergent into the dishwasher foaming.  She’s foaming from between her legs SO badly that she has to hightail it to the shower for fear of ruining the bed, carpet and anything else she was foaming on. 

Needless to say, she was still a virgin when the night was over and me being the good friend I am, laughed my ASS off when she told me this story.  So there I was, in Walgreens, seeing the foam and giggling hysterically like teenagers do when they see birth control … and decided.  We all have Sexual Misadventures. 

So … with that – I want to hear some.  Don’t be embarrassed, it happens to ALL of us.  Whether it be the odd noise, the funky tastes, the squishie sound.  We’ve all had ‘em … let’s hear it!

I’m Just Sayin … Revisited

1) Why is it, no matter how much I sleep at night I’m always tired in the morning?!  I fully admit to being a night owl, but even after a good 8 or 9 hours sleep I have to drag myself from bed in the morning.  Being old sucks.

2) Sometimes, when people ask me a question I do not want to answer, I raise my right eyebrow and say sweetly, “Why do you want to know?” and that usually, ends that.  And I always enjoy watching the look on their face when they try to explain.

3) Yesterday, Twitch, my male coworker, wore capri’s to work.  I’m sorry, MANPRI’s.  Of course, I never used the word manpri’s, because simply getting that word out of my mouth sounds completely ridiculous.  When he first came in, Googlie and I looked at his pants, looked at each other and grinned.  I remained quiet for a bit, but as normal, couldn’t resist saying “Twitch, are you in fact, wearing capri pants?” His response?  “My ankles get hot.”  Well.  Ok then.

4) I believe I am heading to Chicago to see Jenn a week from today!  Must confirm plans with her.  JSip – mark the dates please – and what about Leeeeeenda?.  And RE, you owe me one martini. 

5) Pumpkin’s birthday is on Sunday.  This is an odd thing for me.  We are so new to each other really, and I feel a gift would be somewhat … inappropriate?  Odd?  Too much too soon?  Any of those fit.  Perhaps just a sweet card.  Any advice is welcome.  I’m stuck on this one.

6) Yesterday, Irishman informed me that a violin contains about 70 separate pieces of wood.  I smiled and said, “Okay!  Good to know.”

7) Emilee starts kindergarten soon.  Very soon.  And sometimes, I just can’t believe how BIG she has gotten.  I know every parent thinks this, but seriously, where has time gone?  KINDERGARTEN.

8 ) Sometimes, when I am driving, and depending on my mood, I don’t let people into my lane.  That is rude I realize, but I feel it’s also rude when they wait till the last damn minute to try and get over.  Or at least, when my car is right there and they decide they must get over immediately. 

9) Is anyone using the Wii Fit?  I’m considering buying one.  I think I need to get my butt into shape.  Toned a bit more at least.  Pumpkin is built like a brick – seriously – a 6 pack abdomen and everything.  <drool>

10) It’s Friday.  Thank God.

Have You Ever …

Made an impact in someones life to the point it surprises you?

I met someone, other than my Irishman, on that very first trip to Vegas.  When attending a work conference with your co-workers and hundreds of others that work in the same field you do, it’s always interesting, methinks.  I mean, here you all are, you all do the same thing, and you always have something to talk about.  Eventually however, and always in my case, you figure out who the “fun crew” is and pretty quickly can form your circle of friends that have the same interests, outside of the conference, as you do.  In my case, being there and being without my girl, it’s drinking, dancing and fun.  Oh and drinking.  Ha.  So at this particular conference, I met a nice gentleman who upon first meeting was quite intoxicated and informed me that I was a “hottie”.  I remember Wingman looking at me and grinning, and off we went to sit down with this group and have some more drinks.  Upon seeing The Gentleman the next day, and while sober, he quickly stammered that he doesn’t feel comfortable around me and off he went in the other direction.  This made me grin …

Because our paths crossed more than once and in fact, quite often in the evening, The Gentleman became more open, more friendly and so much more fun.  It is, in fact, thanks to him that I even met Irishman, but that’s another story for another day.  The Gentleman and I exchanged email addresses and phone numbers when the conference was over, and promised to keep in touch.  I keep my blog very private – no one at work, very few of my friends and absolutely no one in my family knows of my blog.  Eventually, however, I gave my blog address to The Gentleman as he was just … trustable.  I truly, TRULY liked him and his wise advice, the fact that he always looked shocked at the things that came out of my mouth … and many more reasons.  He texts every now and again, we send email every now and again, but he still regularly reads my blog, for some odd reason unknown to me.  <grin> 

Last night, however, The Gentleman called and we had a nice conversation in which he teased me about granny panties, about me being a hottie <snort> and he also told me that ShaNaNa and I sound like two peas in a pod.  I had to grin at that because in all reality, that’s EXACTLY the image I want readers to pick up, because for as different as we are, we are two peas in a pod.  He teased me more about Pumpkin, we spoke a bit of work but not much … and in all?  I’m humbled by him, because for some reason, this mama made an impact on his life … maybe it’s because I made him smile.  Or maybe it’s because I refused to call him anything other than what his grandmother called him, or maybe it’s cuz I forced him into that Hummer Limo to head to the strip with us.  I have no idea, really.  But he has let me know pretty regularly that I, for some reason, did make that impact. 

And every time, I smile, shake my head and think that it’s him that made the impact on me.  And the thing is, I never quite know how to tell him that.  But I think I just did. 

*Hugs* for you Gentleman, I hope you know now.