hola!

Hola, from sunny rainy Puerto Rico! The temperature here is beautiful! My friend's baby is beautiful (that's an actual picture I took of her cute little feet); she herself is beautiful. I can't really say her husband is beautiful. It just sounds awkward and wrong. He's cool, though! :D

Well, I'm sorry now that my countdown to 100 was supposed to be milestones. I chose an awful time to supposedly write about milestones, because I haven't really written about any. And, actually, by "milestone" I just really meant "memory that sticks out in my mind." Now I don't even want to write about that for my 99th post. I just want to write about Puerto Rico!

So it rained today and yesterday, but I don't really care, because it's enough to just have the windows open and to wear sandals. I only hope that there will be time to go to the beach and get, at least, a little sun. I can't go back to Minnesota completely white, like I am now.

So this is completely off the subject, but it's in my mind right now, so I want to write about it. I have this friend who always seems to be one step behind me in every bad decision that I make. If I date a schmuck one year, she dates one the next. If I let my faith go cold and make bad decisions (aka getting drunk, hanging out in questionable places with questionable people), she

later does the same. It's not that she is following my example. She lives half-way around the world. But she does always seem to make the same bad choices. I wish I could save her from all the pain I experienced as a result of my bad decisions. I don't want her to spend a year picking up all the pieces like I have. I don't want her to live under constant guilt of decisions past. I don't want her to fight temptations she never had before.

But what can I do? Really, apart from telling her not to do what I've done, there's nothing I can do. She has to make that choice on her own. She has to decide what she wants for her own life and follow that path.

Before I dated (and loved) a guy who didn't share my faith, morals, or even treat me well, I didn't know what I really wanted in a man. Before I got drunk, I never knew how awful it was to wake up with a hangover. Before I gave myself away, I never knew what pain it was to be cheated on or used. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know what I didn't want.

What I'm trying to say is that maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Granted, it would have been better to just follow the guidebook (yes, reference to the Bible) and not make the mistake in the first place. But now I really know. I am a stronger person for failing and hurting and breaking. I made the choices that shattered my heart, but God is the one who put the pieces back together afterward. So while I can't say that I'm not better off now, I can say that I would recommend not doing what I did (do, will do). Ugh. That's the problem with being human. You will always make mistakes.

So what do I do about my friend? She knows what is right and wrong. And besides, how am I supposed to tell her something about things that I have done myself? I know I will continue to make mistakes in my future, and I do even now. I'm not perfect, for goodness sake!

Well, post #99 did cover some milestones--aka memories that stand out in my mind. Anyway, Puerto Rico is great and I never want to leave! I love you readers! Leave me a comment with your advice about my friend.

still breaking me

i looked into my nephew's tiny face

and all the feelings just came flooding back

and i saw his baby's tiny face

and i felt the pain all over again

i let him go

i didn't want to, but i had to

it was the right thing to do

"even with our fists held high

it never would've worked out right"

then i looked at his tiny face again

and saw, in part, my own image

the image of my family

and i knew i could've had that

i could've had it all

just like his wife has it all now

but i walked away

love at any cost,

a dull ache that wishes things were different,

is not love at all

oh God, I'm never having a child!

I KINDA FEEL LIKE THIS TOO RIGHT NOW...

I don't know what got into me, but as I was laying here on my bed, I decided I would like to see what the birth of a child looked like. So I typed "vaginal birth" into youtube.com and saw pretty much the most horrifying thing I've ever seen in my life. I can't imagine! No really, I can't.

I want to vomit.

I want a stiff drink.

I never want to poop out a potroast in front of 20 people and a video camera.

I probably want to have a family more than anything... some day.

I can't believe what mothers go through to have those little bundles of joy. And even though my face is frozen in an unending state of shock right now, I'm sure it's worth it... Possibly. Ten centimeters is very big. And my baby-daddy better not have big heads running in his family.

I should take a picture of my face right now. Seriously. Horror is the only word that can describe my state of mind currently. I am speechless in a not-so-speechless sort of way.

I think what I'm trying to say is that I totally cannot relate. That whole giant child-stuffed-into-woman's-abdomen just doesn't seem so appealing. But at the same time I am completely jealous. I want to have a family and children too! But the horror of childbirth is completely taking my breath away. Still. It's been a solid ten minutes since I saw the video and my mouth is still hanging open.

Mothers who are reading this, my hat's off to you. Maybe someday I'll join your rank. You are amazing. You went through all of that to have a whining, crying, ungrateful, wonderful, amazing, loving, little, big, 18-year commitment with never-ending bonds. I applaude and stand in awe of every single mother who goes through all that (and seriously, it's only the very, very beginning) and still does it all on her own, whether she wants to or not.

Wow. It's all I can say.

confessions, baby aisle, broken hearts and undapants

So I have a confession to make... I am terrified of the baby care aisle at department stores. I should seek counseling, I know, but that's expensive. This is my counseling (and it's far cheaper than the real deal).

Anyway, there are deep reasons causing my baby aisle terror. That whole theme is a subject for another post (or maybe never :). Anyway, I guess it's enough to say that I'm twenty-stinkin'-five with no baby, no husband, no boyfriend and no prospects. (Hence all the time blogging.) And it probably sounds dumb, but I really want a baby. There's something in my biology that calls out to have one. May just have something to do with my age... Or it could have something to do with my ex-whatever-he-was getting his other ex prego less than 2 weeks after we broke up. (I know, I know... dodged a bullet!) I guess there's something in me that wanted that baby. She's seven months old now and I just saw pictures of her today and she's adorable and... there's really nothing more to say.

So yeah, that's all I want to say about that situation... ever. Ok, well, maybe not ever, but for now...

But onto the real topic of this post: me--having to go in the baby aisle without having a panic attack. You see, my brother and sister-in-law are going to have a baby in September. I'm going to be an aunty for the first time and I'm stinkin' excited!!! But that still doesn't make visits to the baby aisle any easier...

I went in... I perused. I breathed into a paper bag. I picked up cute little things. I got outa' there!

I survived.

I can shop in the baby aisle without having an anxiety attack.

That deserved to be rewarded, so I went over to the chica's cuteness aisle (aka undergarments and sleepwear) and looked at the bras, the undapants (saying undapants is 40% funnier than saying underwear), the jammies... everything. It's one of my coping mechanisms--buying undapants. After a long, stressful day at work or a difficult shop in the baby aisle nothing makes me feel better than buying myself some cutie-patutie undies! (Well, buying some darling shoes would, but that's out of my budget.)

I grabbed an adorable pack of Hanes hipster boycut undies in perfect brown and pink. I had to have them! They were $8.49. That is, btw, way out of my price range, especially for undies! I carried them around with me as I tried to convince myself that I could survive baby shopping without wasting almost ten bucks on two tiny garments that nobody will ever see. I must have walked around the cuteness aisle for about 20 minutes deciding that I didn't really need them. Then something amazing happened. I spotted them. The same cut, not perfect brown and pink, but still, the perfect undie. It was less than $2. I peeled the cutie-patutie package out of my hand, reluctantly placed it on the nearest rack, and ran. I managed to spend less than five dollars on self-medicating and it doesn't even come with a bad aftertaste or a headache tomorrow.

SO... for all of you who don't know me personally, laugh at my ridiculousness. For those of you who do know me, pretend you never read this! It was a free confession! Pretend you are a priest and you have taken an oath to not judge me for my crazy weirdness.

the best things

It's Saturday again. Time for my Saturday ritual. That is, of course, the time when I sit in front of the television on the blue loveseat and post something interesting and unique on my blog. Either that or I just pump out some ramblings of a bored, single twenty-something.

Today I am watching one of the best comedies ever made: The Andy Griffith Show. I love it. Barney Fife is my favorite. Well, at least the way in which the whole town, especially Andy, tiptoes around Barney's stupidity in order to make him feel good about himself. He's bumbling, fumbling, self important, and occasionally a little too big for his britches. Aunt Bea is my other favorite character. I love how she constantly complains about being overworked, but

then when she doesn't have anything to do, she feels

unneeded. There was one episode where she leaves Andy and Opie to fend for themselves. They make a terrible

mess of things and don't wash or clean anything the whole week. Finally the day comes when Aunt Bea will be returning and they clean the whole place within an inch of its life. Then Andy thinks better of the situation, know that Aunt Bea will feel like she's not needed if she finds out they can take care of themselves. So they mess the whole house up again. Aunt Bea gets home and scolds them unendingly. Andy knew, though, that it was the better thing.

Another Saturday ritual is cleaning/cooking. I know, it doesn't happen often... But what did happen is that my friend had her baby this week (number 4 in 6 years!) and I thought she may need some Ghiradelli double chocolate fudge topped brownies. I don't know what it feels like to have a baby or anything of the sort, but if there's one thing that can fix anything, it's brownies. I know, this will be the last time probably, since she'll want to be on a strict weight-loss to return to pre-prego body regimin, but still, brownies are a great gift. I think I'll buy some diapers too. She already has everything else she needs, I think, since thsi is baby #4 and cousin #14...

Speaking of domestic, Susie-homemakerish activities (like baking and cleaning) I ran out of laundry detergent the other day. So yesterday I bought another container. I wasn't quite sure if I had already bought detergent or not, though. So I checked in the laundry room. Turns out that's the second container of the exact same detergent that I have bought in one week's time. Now there are 5 women living in this apartment, and that's a lot of women, but as i was looking in the laundry room, I realized that 5 women do not warrent 27 containers of laundry detergent. And in light of my recent absent-mindedness, I think that approxamately 31% of those containers are mine. Well, I'm sure I'll have very clean clothes for many months to come. Either that or I'll just buy some more detergent...