Shit hits the fan

This is about the time things start getting crazy at work. Our DOS, who was planning to be out on maternity leave in January, has a preemie and starts maternity leave in the beginning of October. Baby was born 1.67 pounds. Doing great today!

We all have to pull together to make it work. If we hadn't been getting close yet, this is also probably the time I started becoming better friends with my colleague, E. We eventually call ourselves E Squared. Or maybe that's just me. I'm pretty sure she agrees to go to Pentatonix with me. I'll have to go back through and review our text messages next, but there would be fewer of them as we shared an office.

S talks more about LuLaRoe and Sweden....I think. This may be about the time the he doesn't have internet for two weeks and she seeks attention elsewhere. We are now referring to Problem Boy, and I'm not sure yet which one that is.

On the 8th, I am apparently going through some mental things. S and I had a plan to go out, but I couldn't people. I invited her over for wine and Netflix, but she never goes out, so she goes out with another girlfriend. She plans to drink a little and drunk text someone when she gets back.

Apparently a couple of days later I go out with someone else. I don't know who....but S asks if he bought my drink, and I say No.

Unicorns

My friend continues talking about Sweden, slays in a triathlon, and takes a trip with her daughter to Turkey, where the family of her daughter's father live. I'm thinking she's kicking life's ass.

She gets back to town and, in September we go to the Renaissance Festival with our mutual friend and all the kids. I wat Sch a lot of performances and choirs and think, "I could do that."

On September 19th, I passed my driver's test :) Had I not studied, I wouldn't have known that we don't do "10 and 2" anymore. While getting my Minnesota plates, I realize I have no idea where my car title is.

I still don't....

At the end of September, I decide to audition for The Elizabethan Syngers. (That's Syngers with a Y, Why? Because we like it!)

My friend and I talk a lot about LulaRoe. I buy a black dress with boom boxes all over it and some blue leggings covered in gramophones. I haven't worn those in a while....I should bust them out.

I invite my friend to see Pentatonix with me, but she's got the kiddo and we talk a bit about S taking Peanut for his fist overnight. She does not feel good about it. We talk more about LaLaRoe.

It was about a month before I went on another date

I was playing the role of Matron Mama Morton in a community production of Chicago and keeping pretty busy there. I also had a good theatre crush on going on and was getting the attention that I felt I needed at the time. Nothing to write home about, but made daily rehearsals in the summer much more tolerable.

There continues to be no talk of men with my friend through the beginning of August. The next entertaining post is a nasty picture of getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. Maybe we were talking about it during our resume weekly walks, but no one is ringing a bell. There was a guy I was eyeing up at weekly trivia, but that was never a thing.

Most of the the conversations center around her infatuation with an old flame living in Sweden. We call him....Sweden.

At the end of August I go out with a reheaded saxaphone player that I met at a networking luncheon. He waited about an hour to mention his girlfriend (did he think we were still "networking"?) and didn't buy me a drink. I find myself saying "In his defense...." a lot.

My friend says she never wants to date.

Yes, I was right.

Next was A: The Oompa Loompa. Roughly about the same size and shape, Seemed fairly nice though. Funny, kind, and employed. And who am I to judge? I usually say I'm teapot shaped. We planned to meet for dinner, and it didn't work out. He ended up inviting me over to his place where there was a party "by the lake" going on.By the time I got there, he was sloppy drunk and could barely stand or form complete sentences. And there was no party, just him in his lawn watching the neighbors grill out. I tried to chat for a little bit and didn't even try to make a graceful exit...just got the hell out. He didn't buy my a drink.

I went out for a date on my birthday. E; The bartender. (Thank goodness for old text messages, I didn't even remember his name.) We shared a charcuterie plate and he talked about himself a lot. I told my girlfriend he was "something between a dumb jock and potentially mentally disabled." He didn't buy me a drink. On my birthday. He knew it was birthday. I also learned later that he was technically disabled due to a brain surgery,so...I felt kind of shitty about my previous comment.


A couple of days later I grabbed a drink with the music director of the musical I was in, Gay. He bought me a drink.

Hi! It's been awhile.

Almost a year, I tend to think more about blogging around my birthday. I guess it's really more journaling than blogging when no one reads it. I wonder the official defined difference between the two. I could Google it. But I prefer to wonder. I read that somewhere in the last year. "The Nest," I think, Didn't really like the book, but that thought stands out. If a book gives you one takeaway that stays with you, it's done it's job, right? Even if that take away has nothing to do with the book itself? No, let me do that again, Even if that take away has nothing to do with the book itself.

The space bar on my goofy little laptop is giving me troubles. We'll see how long I can keep this up.

J didn't work out. Turned out to be relatively creepy. And he never bought me a drink.

I'll have to go *way* back in my text messages with a girlfriend to figure out who was next. I think it was the drunken Oompa Loompa...