Whoa, that last post was a bit much, eh?  Although I certainly didn’t intend it this way, I can see how, once you read the following post, you might think that I have a touch of the bi-polar, because last week I wrote a post about boo-hoo sad Noemi, and today I am going to write a post about how I’m so damn happy, and well.  Send your medical bills if you end up with whiplash.

Every day, I try and think of something interesting to write here.  Just for kicks, you know?  I am fully aware I’m not on my way to being the next Dooce, or even the next blogger-with half-that-traffic, or even the blogger-with-a-tenth-that-traffic, I’m just trying to put some words on the page, to maybe record how I was feeling on a particular day, to maybe share a funny story, to stretch out my creative muscles, to occupy myself.  But more often than not, the Dashboard sits empty, and I start to wonder… am I boring because I’m happy?

I know it sounds a bit ridiculous, but I remember, back when I first moved to Seattle, and enmeshed myself in the most horrible relationship of my LIFE, and it took me the better part of a year to get over it, that one of the most striking things my therapist said to me was: “Are you afraid that if you’re no longer involved in the drama of this relationship, you’ll stop being interesting?”

HOLD THE PHONE, DOCTOR.  See, this is why therapists get to charge ONE HUNDRED MOTHERFUCKING DOLLARS an hour for an hour that’s not even an hour long, because they hit the nail so squarely on the head you LITERALLY stop dead in your tracks.  Ok, fine.  Not literally, since I am here, and breathing, but for reals, y’all.  I have never heard the truth about myself so succinctly summed up, complete with a gentle expression and a slight head cock, perhaps a tissue extended in anticipation.

Between the therapy and the pills, I did manage to get really, truly, actually happy, and I still have friends and I think they still find me interesting, but every once in a while, this same question pops its head up- am I boring without drama?

I’m hoping for NO, so here’s a list of things that are currently contributing to my happiness, in no order what so ever.

J’s career is going GANGBUSTERS, and I could not be more thrilled and proud of her accomplishments.  She comes home proud of herself, there’s little pressure on me to return to work, and DAMN, if being a grown-up doesn’t have some rewards some of the time.

The baby (I am still sorta squeamish about calling it a “baby” what with it only being halfway to completion and not even a pound and totally non-viable except in the rarefied environment of my womb, but FETUS has to be one of the uglier words in the English language, right behind VAGINA [seriously, it’s impossible to say VAGINA without making a face], and so I dunno what to call “it” in general terms), which we have nicknamed Milton, as in the street it was conceived on (I cribbed this idea in its entirety from my brother, whose baby was conceived on the significantly more interesting street “Yehuda”).  We call it Milton, although we still don’t know if it’s a Milton or a Miltona, and Milton has started to make his/her presence felt, in the form of bizarre sensations I assume must be kicks.  I’m happy to be feeling these, even though they are, truth be told, sorta uncomfortable, because it’s hard to play out Doomsday scenarios involving dead babies and miscarriages in your head when there’s physical evidence to the contrary playing out down below.

I’m happy Temerity Jane pointed me in the direction of Destination Maternity for affordable clothes that don’t look like ass on me, because the all-yoga-pants-all-the-time look was sorta getting old, and also covered in cat hair.  I think I now have enough clothes to last me these remaining 20 weeks, all without breaking the bank.

I’m happy that our nesting, which continues to not involve buying a single thing for the actual child in question, HAS included a new rug in the living room, the old rug in the nursery, curtains hung, and an overall more “finished” look to the house.  We even have a plan for where every baby item to eventually show up will go, which means, the time come, it will be more like drag-n-drop than a super frustrating and heavy game of Tetris.

I’m happy that the weather in Southern California continues to be a sunny seventy degrees, and that can I consistently wear flip-flops in February.  For all the complaining that can be done about this particular corner of the globe (TRAFFIC, TRAFFIC, TRAFFIC), the weather is not one of them.

I’m happy that the day-to-day of my life is relaxed, easy, and pleasant.  Even the chores make our little life hum along more smoothly, and the cats, for all the shedding, are still pretty great companions.  If this is boring- well, shit.  I’ll take it.

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