So, the blog begins again. For a few reasons; the first is that the last two weeks have been an incredible emotional rollercoaster. The second is that this may just be the slowest day EVER in my office. Okay, not ever but pretty darn close. Since my last blog entry a lot has happened. I won’t bore you with the nitty gritty details, but here is a recap:

• Relapsed in early September, a.k.a Ed came back with a dirty vengeance
• Declared affections for the childhood crush in an e-mail. Was kindly rejected in the best way possible. Good guy.
• Re-committed to recovery in November, a.k.a. kicked Ed’s dirty butt to the curb again. This involved some significant lifestyle changes, including quitting everything I was involved in outside of work, changing my hours, new meds, and cutting out the gym. So far it seems to be working – 2 weeks symptom free today!
• Met new crush who turned into new boyfriend (yes, there were cupcakes involved). Now I’m dealing with the awkwardness of dating as a grownup and being entirely unfamiliar with this territory. So far my neuroses haven’t scared him away yet.
• Dealing with complete upheaval at work and the negative energy /complete ineffectiveness/mean people of the institution I work for.

The last bullet point has been the main reason for resuming the blog. Work has made me so emotionally volatile lately that I have to have a place to let it out. I have always been blessed with work environments where I felt supported, encouraged, liked, and respected. Whether in college or grad school, I always felt like I knew my place in the work environment. This all changed when I got my first “real job.” This summer I had finally felt like I was fitting in, getting into the groove, and figuring it all out. Yet it was when I was in the darkest time of my relapse this fall, when my treatment team was getting ready to recommend a higher level of care, that I felt completely ostracized and even bullied – almost explicitly because of the changes in hours I mentioned before. If you’ve seen the movie “Mean Girls”, you know what I mean. The thing is, I never experienced the “mean girls” scenario in middle or high school.  I was secure in my friendships and happy about my place in the world. And now I come into this office of catty, immature, unprofessional women. Ladies, if you’ll allow me to pull out my soap box a moment and say, “AHEM. THIS IS WHY WE ARE STILL EARNING $0.77 TO A MAN’S DOLLAR!”

The backstabbing, talking behind people’s backs, worrying about who’s getting special treatment or who’s being treated unfairly is taking up WAY too much time. Time when we could be using our supposed feminine strengths of compassion, understanding, and empathy to further each other in our careers and improve the institutions for which we work.  I might sound naïve, but who does it serve to be griping about whether I come to work at 8am or 10am?

I am blessed that my family and friends are supportive people who I love and trust. I know it’s idealistic to think that my workplace should be a place I look forward to going every day; I know too many people working in miserable jobs to expect that. But wow, wouldn’t it be nice? I’m not convinced that that kind of work atmosphere doesn’t exist somewhere. And at least I’m picking up tips on how to create it if in fact I get to be the boss someday.

I’m sure you’ve heard the old adage, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” before. Many of my guy friends/fraternity acquaintances have confirmed the validity of this statement, although more often than not “food”  could be replaced with “beer.”  Somewhere along the line I internalized this statement to the point of absurdity. I’m pretty sure it’s genetic, considering my mother and grandmother have hostessing tendencies which border on mildly obsessive. I’m also fairly certain that some woman in my family stepped off the Mayflower and got to work on an apple pie to woo the neighbor Puritan boy with her cinnamon and charm. Therefore it was unavoidable that I would inherit the same tragic flaw. Case in point: In graduate school, I had a superhugecrush on a guy I went to church with. Blonde hair, blue eyes, Lutheran, law student…aka my Aryan dream boy. Now, throughout the course of a semester and a half, I had maybe uttered a whopping two sentences to him despite several opportunities to engage in conversation, flirtation, general greetings, etc.  So when Easter came around, and the student/young adult group was asked to bring in food items for the church brunch, I knew my moment had come. I called up my grandmother, an hour away in New Hampshire, and asked if I could use her kitchen. The Saturday before Easter, I spent the day in a floury frenzy, whipping up the biggest batch of cardamom sticky buns you’ve ever laid eyes on. And it doesn’t end there! I whipped up a veggie-bacon (what man doesn’t love bacon!) egg strata casserole to top it off. Now, if things went the way I planned (see “Planning”), Aryan Andy would be sitting next to me at brunch on Easter morn, take one bite of sticky bun, and exclaim “Oh my goodness! What amazing/wonderful/beautiful person made these bites of heaven!?” And I would look up demurely from my own plate and say, “Oh, you know, it’s just an old family recipe, no biggie.” And we would live happily ever after.

SO, what actually happened was that I arrived, sweaty, from hauling sticky buns and egg strata around Boston proper. They made it into the oven and on to the table with little fuss, and I managed to make myself presentable before the end of the first church service when brunch would begin. I did sit next to him…and I think he even had some of my bacon-y strata! And our conversation might have gone something like this,

“Hey! Happy Easter.”
“Hey, Happy Easter! Did you go to the first service?”
“Yup.”
“Ah.”

*Smacks forehead” DOH!

They really were damn good sticky buns.

So you would think I’d have learned my lesson by now. But instead, I just spent the better part of 4 hours crafting pool-ball-and-game-card cupcakes for tomorrow night. Coincidentally (ha), Childhood Crush will be at the party I’m attending tomorrow night, for which I baked said cupcakes.  Although I came to the reasonable conclusion, after input from friends (thanks!) that really I should just communicate with the guy, I’ve harnessed the power of my foremothers and goshdarnit I will seduce him with cupcakes. See photos below, and just tell me he won’t be begging me for a second chance by the end of the night. Communication? Give me some butter and confectioners sugar, and I’ll show you communication.

Hi

There are very few moments in life that make you jump up from your chair in overwhelming happiness. This was one such moment in my life. I would always remember this time of my life.

This happened when I was in 8th Standard. Studying in Brindavan Public School, Coonoor. The Schools in Nilgiris are amazing. We have all kind of competitions in sports. One such competition which was introduced to us was Shooting Competition. This was quite new to us. And which got everyone excited. To get a gun to shoot at something damn that should be exciting for anyone. It’s like you are in Army! Serving our country.

Now the story. Shooting Competition was held for two days. And it was held at our school. The first day went on well. I had my event. I did get some good shots but I was not that perfect like others. It was more like learning curve for me. That evening, I was seeing the score put up at our basketball court.(Shooting Competition was being held at our Basket Ball Court. Which is outside our school gate.) It was exactly at that time. GSPS bus was leaving our school gates. I just happen to see a girl looking at the Basket Ball court. I don’t think she was looking at me. But you know when you are young even if a good looking girl is seeing somewhere near you. You tend to assume that she is looking at you. Seeing this I got excited I waved at her. She smiled and waved back. My friends near by where like “Dude you rock man. That girl is waving at you”. Rest half of the day I was in cloud no 9. . Night I could not sleep and was eagerly waiting for the next day.

Next day I could not wait to see the girl. There were also some doubts in my mind that will this girl come for the competition again ? What if her event was over? In short period of time, I had thought about 100 possibilities. Anyway She came again. I saw her. Was quite excited about it. Wanted to talk to her but … I was too shy to talk. She was bold very very bold. She came and gave me a bubble gum when I was surrounded by my friends. Wait let me explain the situation there. I was sitting as Referee(My job was to give him bullets to shooter and change the shooting paper after each 5 bullets.) I was surrounded by my friends. She walked right into the crowd saying excuse me. Walked up to me. Said “Hey! Bubble gum.” Offering me Bubble Gum. I was struck by thunder bolt. All I could say was “Thank You.” After she left there was a roar. All my friend were like ” Who is she ? Jaggi”. And I had no clue. I didn’t even ask her name.

Next I had to give her something. I went bought a Nestle Charger. Went up to her said “Hi.” Gave her Charger. Asked her Name. Said her mine. Told Nice meeting you and left. (I could not talk much. You see, If you are spotted with a girl in School. Its a big thing. At least in our school it was. Plus all my teachers where at Basket Ball Court.). For the rest of the time all I could do was see her. Even she did the same. I went and played Volley Ball to show off. Then when everyone where moving to Assembly hall for Prize distribution. I moved there and started playing Table Tennis there. Thinking she would be impressed. Dont know if she noticed that. Even in Assembly hall our eyes met quite sometime.  She kept turning an looking at me. And I … I was looking at her all the time. Our English maám was sitting behind me. Seeing this she asked “Jaggi whats going on ?”. I just smiled. Soon Prize distrubion was over. We all headed our ways. Again all I could do was wave her Good Bye.

I wish I could have talked more. I saved that Bubble gum paper for quite some time. Searched her photo in her school magazines. I even happen to send her a letter. I waited for her reply. Then Finally the Crush ended. Though thinking of her made me all excited and laugh even now. 

Last year, I was googling my name. Just checking what on Google about me. Suddenly I dont know what struck me. I thought let me type in her name and check. And there we go! I thanked Google and Internet. I saw her name in her school’s Website. Finally I though she was for real. I searched her in Facebook and there she was!!! I cannot tell you how Excited I was. She accepted my friend’s Request. I mailed her telling about the that shooting competition And we laughed about that day. Now she is my very good Friend.

Jagdeep Singh Virdi

How would I tell you? Without running you off that is. Without the polite severing of what little contact we have of late?

How would  I tell you how golden you were to me, years ago, before life and time and gravity happened to both of us?  How golden and perfect in your mesh shirts and gym shorts on game day, your soft fleece gym shorts, which made me wonder what a hard leg muscle would feel like through them. You were the pinnacle of clean and good and strong and juicy and desireable. You were everything that was held up to me as admirable, utterly admirable, and utterly different from me. You had sunshine in your hair and playing on your face, no matter what you did or said. You weren’t the best looking guy around, but you were the best looking guy I knew. I was a secret fan; you could do no wrong, I was always silently on your side.

You always had the seasonal sports equipment at hand, a lacrosse stick, a football, a catcher’s mitt, a basket ball. I could tell the time of year by the bouncing or twirling or the thwack of ball on leather coming from you. I could hear and see all this from my room, as I stood, wedged between my nightstand and bed to get a better look, through the shutters so you would not look up and see me looking from up there, so you wouldn’t see my need from up there. How well I could hide it.

I hid it when you walked by, in your tank tops, with little strands of your underarm hair poking out, so I imagined other hair in other areas. I hid it when you wore that one pair of pants you had, pale blue corduroys that were perhaps a little too tight in the crotch (or just tight enough). I hid it when you spoke, your lips moving in your characteristic way, so alluring, so that I wanted to feel them kiss me. I was good at hiding. I still am.

I didn’t love you because I never really knew you, but I was always grateful to you. You treated me, if not precisely well, then with less contempt than other people did. You were nearly avuncular with me, at times, and I often think if I had been less terrified of slipping up, we could have been friends. You could have taught me sports – I was always expected to know sports without ever being told how to do sports. You said you would get me on the field of play and for you I’d have risked being beaned or knocked down or squashed or winded. Just for once to be nearly your equal. I know we would never be other than friends, but friends would have been nice. I certainly have always wished you well. Once you came to my room in my parent’s house, to show me some record album or other, and for me, it was like a short marriage of fifteen minutes’ duration, we were together, partially domestic, in the same room together, breathing the same air, but I didn’t get you a drink. I’d have spilled it.

I never got to see you come into real manhood. I think perhaps I’d have hidden myself from you, or gone blind, by one means or another.

Years later, I tried to track you down, but you were gone. I did find out that you lived in a Midwestern state. Then, just the other day, over the net, I came into contact with you. And I was so happy. You actually wrote me back. And I was terse with you – still hiding. Mustn’t let you think I’m a stalker. You’re older now, as we all are, but I still see the young man who was so beautiful and so handsome and so golden in the lines of your lips and the shape of your cheeks. And I see your pictures of your pretty wife and lovely daughter. And I have a handsome husband, whom I love, whom I know, whom I cherish.  And I don’t want anything different – my life is complete and happy.

But I wonder if you’d ever like to know how much you walked in the light in my eyes. Would you feel stalked or flattered? I won’t risk the one to get the other. And these feelings will subside, I know. But I still wonder, if I were to, how would I tell you? And would you understand?

I’ll put this out on the internet, where you might find it. That’s all I can do.

I am not an expert in parenting and this is my first time being a parent but I recently found out that my 8 year old daughter has a crush on a boy in her class.  I honestly think I’m in denial somewhat because I still see her as a baby.  Obviously, it’s okay for her to like someone in an innocent way.  If she smiles at him excessively and gives him a valentine, okay.  As long as she is not hiding uder a table kissing him then I am fine.

Looking briefly online, I see mixed responses on this subject.  Some people say as early as 7 while others said age 11 for the first crush.  I’m assuming that it depends on the child and their emotional development.  Boys will naturally have a first crush at a later age simply because they are less emotional than girls.  It was funny how a child shows that they are interested in another.  Girls will do the goofy notes and phone calls while boys may play rough or tickle someone.

Since my daughter is more of a tomboy she will tickle and play rough instead of the “princess” I love you mushy stuff. 

This is a new adventure in my parenting life and I will try my best to talk to her about the appropriate and safe ways to have a crush.  My biggest fear is that she will not have the self confidence to say no to a boy when she gets older.  She may depend on a boy to make her feel good about herself and that’s where a good child could make a major mistake that will leave a deep scar on their life.

Personally, if I could do it all over again, I would have waited until marriage. I was 19 and unwed when I had my daughter.  If I had waited, this would mean that my first child would have been born out of love and I probably would have been able to bond with her so much better.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter so much and I just wish I would have picked a better time in my life.  I may not have my own insecurity issues and would have been more confident if I would have waited to have that “first time” and many more.

This society frustrates me because you are considered the “odd ball” if you are still a virgin at age 18.  Is anyone aware of the damage that we are doing to ourselves deep down? It may be fun and “feel good” while we’re doing it but at what cost?  Honestly, abstinence should be encouraged more and not just by adults telling teens.  Teens need to really consider this themselves too.  I believe that it would have been worth the wait.

I just watched beetlejuice, the 1988 movie directed by Tim Burton, a few hours ago. Stumbled upon it while trolling a few warez boards, looking for old movies. I used to have the greatest crush on Lydia Deetz. Of course I was younger back then so it wasn’t wrong. There was just something about her. To be honest, the only reason I legally aquired the movie was so I could see Lydia again. Beetlejuice himself was a little too wacky for my tastes. Sometimes he seemed really cool but most of the time he was just plain annoying. Maybe that’s how he was meant to be portrayed…whatever the case, I didn’t like the character as much as I liked Lydia. Her whole goth mentality, her seeming loneliness, her clothes…if only i were young again.

Well that’s pretty much it. Don’t really have much to say. Lydia Deetz is cool!

Man, I feel so stupid right now

Good news everyone!  My future husband broke up with his girlfriend!

Yeah, that probably requires some explanation, huh?

See, when I was twelve years old, I was seated next to a really cool girl named Rebecca in my Language Arts class.  Yes, this was the age of ‘Language Arts’.  What does that even mean?  We had English, we had Spanish, what is a ‘language art’?  Weird.  Anyway, Rebecca and I were seated next to each other and became fast friends.  Rebecca and I were also mutual friends with another girl, Mary.  Now, Mary had a HUGE crush on Rebecca’s twin brother, Jake.  To be fair, pretty much everyone had a crush on Jake.  Mary really pursued that friendship with Rebecca as a way to get access to Jake and it worked.  Rebecca convinced Jake to ask Mary out, which resulted in a two week relationship during which I’m not at all convinced they ever even had a conversation.  Ah, young love.

After Jake came to his senses and dumped Mary, I rejoiced.  You see, I had a big crush on Jake too!  Yes, yes, I’m sure that surprises exactly NO ONE.  That crush was the most enduring of my young life and I still remember how much I liked him and how much I tried to convince myself that I didn’t.  Seriously you guys, he was SO CUTE.  Plus I got to see him all the time!  One time, I got snowed in at Rebecca’s house and I couldn’t go home for three days!  I got to spend three days with my crush throwing snowballs at each other!  Looking back I’m pretty sure he had some sort of schoolboy crush on me too, but it never really went anywhere.  I was too shy to do anything and he never did anything either.  Eventually my crush did fizzle out (if by ‘fizzle out’ you mean ‘lessened in strength from a burning bonfire to a match’).  I went to high school and then college.  Jake ended up at three different high schools (only one year at mine) and then spent about five years rock climbing and not much else.  I pined from afar and knew instinctively that the only relationship he was able to sustain at that point was with his rock climbing equipment.

For years we stayed friends through Rebecca, who was and still is one of my best friends.  Jake trained as a pilot and was hired by a major airline.  One of the perks of the job was free flights, which allowed him and Rebecca to come and visit me when I moved to Scotland.  I discovered after spending a week with him that I still had that little match flame burning.  It was excessively annoying.  But he is adorable, so what could I do?

See, the thing about Jake is that I’ve always sort of considered him my ‘future’ guy.  He’s adorable, we get along really well, I suspect he may be interested in me too.  Rebecca thinks I should marry him.  Hell, I think I should marry him!  Plus, I LOVE his mom and his mom loves me.  It’s a match all around!  The problem?  We’ve never actually managed to live in the same city together.  When I was living at home, he was living in New York City.  Even with free flights, that’s a VERY long distance relationship.  I kept thinking, all we need is just to live in the same city!  That’s all!  Come on God, do me a favor here!  Please, somehow, let those stars align.

Then, in June, THE STARS ALIGNED.  Jake was moving back home!  Hooray!  Not only that, I was planning on moving home in a year too!  It was PERFECT.  Cue the wedding bells, our moment had come.  Oh wait, what was that?  Oh, God has a sense of humor you say?

Damn right he does.  Jake was moving home WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND.  Yes.  That’s right.  My future husband was moving home with his girlfriend!  Now all joking aside (and honestly, I had only ever considered a relationship with Jake in passing), it actually upset me a lot more than I thought it would.  Apparently they were talking marriage.  His mom seemed to like her (from the one time they talked on skype), which was a big shift from his last girlfriend, whom she hated.  Rebecca even liked her.  Suddenly I had no back up guy.  I had no future guy.  I felt like my whole plan had been shattered.  But I also genuinely was sad that I’d never had even the chance to see if we might have been good together. It didn’t help either that the last time I was home Jake and I went rock climbing together (with girlfriend in tow, though she didn’t climb) and we had a fantastic time.  I mean the guy is a rock climber!  And he’s really good.  He kicked my ass all over the rockface and that is seriously hot.  I felt like yelling at the powers that be, ‘oh come on!  He’s a climber!  It’s meant to be, can’t you see that?!’

Well apparently, at the time, not so much.  The girlfriend seemed nice, if slightly princessy.  I lost a LOT of respect for her when she refused even to attempt to climb and then had to lie on the backseat the whole way home because she’d spent ‘too much time in the sun.’  Yeah honey, me too.  I was also climbing up the the most difficult walls I’d ever attempted and got the worst sunburn of my life.  But hey, whatever, you go take a nap.  (Sorry, was that bitchy?)

But all was not lost!  It seemed there was trouble in paradise!  See, Jake and the girlfriend had never actually lived in the same city together.  So not only had they moved in together but they were spending all their day to day time together for the first time since they started dating.  And apparently, girlfriend was a total pain!  Mom and Rebecca actually hated her!  Jake and girlfriend were fighting all the time!

Yes, I got a certain satisfaction from that.  And yes, I’m a tiny bit embarrassed about it.

This week, I got an email from Rebecca.  Jake and the girlfriend have broken up!  (cue the ‘hallelujah chorus’)  And not only that, I’ll be seeing him again in just a few weeks.  We’ll probably even go rock climbing during which I’ll get to drool as he puts my climbing skills to shame.  My plan is ALLLLL falling into place.  See, I’m moving home in just under a year.  That gives him a year to get over the girlfriend and ready himself to fall in love with ME!  Maybe the stars just needed all this extra time to get their act together.  But it’s ok guys, I’m a forgiving person.  But this is your last chance, got it?

Just up the street
His flammable grin teased
the match that was my teenage tongue
He sensed my curiosity, gave me enough details
to shape him with lies and fiction.
Knowing only his name,
I made him mine, made his eyes green and his father hateful.
I remember purple shorts and a bicycle seat that
inspired envy.
I liked his hair without gel, his shirts sleeveless, thought his
braces were sexy.
I stole his family’s mail once,
with little luck. Just a newspaper and a phone bill.
No clue of who he really was,
so I kept inventing,
inventing my arms as protected habitats for his endangered emotions,
inventing his yen to my yang,
inventing his body on mine in the night, stomach to stomach,
his hand guiding me inside.
Just up the street lived a boy I wanted,
and never had,
so I make his name my password on every e-mail account and pornographic website.
It’s years later and I type his name
more than my own.

I’ve obviously got too much time on my hands today… Actually that’s untrue, as I’m working on a recruiting project for the next few weeks. I suppose I just need a quick mental respite from the deluge of resumes I’ve been reviewing.

1. Describe your favorite romantic/love scene from a movie.

Okay, I have to be honest here… I’m not really a chick flick kind of girl. I’d much rather see something with a great plot, or with no plot at all but that makes me laugh until my insides hurt. But the first scene that comes to mind is the ending of Bridget Jones’s Diary. Bridget is about to run off to Paris for a holiday with her friends and is surprised to see Mark Darcy at her door. He’s come back from America to kiss her goodbye. They go upstairs, he ends up reading her diary and the awful things she’s written about him, and then leaves abruptly. She chases after him wearing a sweater and her underoos on a cold, snowy London night. Finds him to apologize about the diary…. To find that he’s just left to buy her a new diary. And then he wraps his coat around her and they kiss. Mark Darcy loves her… just as she is. I’ve been waiting a very long time for my “Mark Darcy,” who loves me… just as I am.  (And if he looked like Casey Affleck, I wouldn’t be mad about it.)  

2. What was your worst Valentine’s Day experience?

Seeing as how I’ve been single for the last five Valentine’s days, I can’t really remember… in fact, I think I’ve blocked all Valentine’s days from memory. This year I have an appointment with my therapist on Valentine’s Day!! I’m trying to decide if this is ironic or appropriate, or perhaps a fun little cocktail of both.

3. What is your favorite restaurant for a Valentine’s dinner out?

Please see above. I’m beginning to wonder if this survey is antagonizing me…

4. List a hot/romatic line from a song that you like.

David Gray’s Please Forgive Me

“Please forgive me if I act a little strange, for I know not what I do. Feels like lightening running through my veins, every time I look at you. Help me out here, all my words are falling short, and there’s so much I want to say. Want to tell you just how good it feels when you look at me that way………….. I’ve got half a mind to scream out loud. I’ve got half a mind to die. So I won’t ever have to lose you, girl. I won’t ever have to say goodbye. I won’t ever have to lie.”

Ben Folds‘ Luckiest is a close second…

“I don’t get many things right the first time, in fact I am told that a lot. Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls, brought me here. And where was before the day that I first saw your lovely face? Now I see it every day. And I know… that I am, I am, I am the luckiest…………… I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.”

5. What is the cheesiest aspect of Valentine’s Day?

D. All of the above

6. Did you have any elementary school traditions for Valentine’s Day?

We always had a afternoon party where we had pizza and snacks and exchanged Valentines. I would spend hours the night before painstakingly choosing just the right Valentine for each of my classmates… making sure it sent just the right message. I always reserved the best Valentine’s for my home girls, and of course for the boy I liked. The people I didn’t like as well… eh, it was the bottom of the pile for them. It was always excruciating wondering what kind of Valentine the cute boys would give you. Would it be pretty? What would it say? Would he write “Love,” before he signed his name? Would he even give you a Valentine at all, crushing your school girl dreams?

7. What fictional character do you have a crush on and why?

My first fictional crush was on Ricky Stratton from Silver Spoons. I thought he was adorable… and I really wanted to play on that train that went through the house!

8. How old were you when you had your first, real kiss? Was it good or bad?

I remember being in 6th grade and kissing a boy named Nathan. I’m pretty sure it was terrible.

9. Describe the most uncomfortable crush someone has had on you.

This is a lesson children… and the lesson is, don’t try to be nice. A few years ago I worked as a barista after being downsized from my company. I developed what I’ll call a fan base… regular customers who were fun to flirt with. What can I say? It’s the green apron.    One particular boy always looked lonely when he came in… so I made nice and invited him out with a friend and me one night. Little did I know… He proceeded to come in nearly every day (granted it was Starbucks and there are plenty of customers who come in multiple times a day). But I received a deluge of phone calls and text messages from what I found out was a very unstable person. When I began working in a more professional environment, he began to come by my office… just stopping by to say hi. One of the last times I saw him he stopped by after his girlfriend’s funeral. She had committed suicide a few days prior. (SAY WHAT?!) I didn’t see him after that. But found out later from an acquaintance that he had been hospitalized (think Britney). Oy vey.

10. How long did your first heartbreak last?

My first real heartbreak was my sophomore year of college. We met the first few weeks of my freshman year and became inseparable…until May when he moved home for the summer to Florida and then onto a baseball camp in New York. Unfortunately we didn’t survive the distance. He was my first love and, while it felt more like light years, it took me several months to get over him. Fortunately, I survived and lived to tell about it.

11. Do you prefer to give/receive: a) jewelry b) chocolate c) lingerie d) tools?

How about money? Is that an option? I wouldn’t be mad about jewelry. Although I’m sure the only thing I’ll receive this year will be (like the last) a card from my mother.

12. If you are male, do you prefer Mary Ann or Ginger? If you are female, do you prefer McDreamy or McSteamy?

I have to agree with another fabulous Allison here… I would much, much rather have McVet. Adorable, stable, and not a man-ho. 

13. Would you rather be broken up with by: a) phone b) text message c) in person d) email e) carrier pigeon?

I’m going to have to say carrier pigeon, with hopes it would poop on the tool jerk messenger upon it’s return.  

14. What is your favorite Valentine’s Day candy?

Wine, martini, Stella Artois… or some eye candy would be nice…

Oh, you meant actual candy…  

When I went back to Petaluma for summer vacation this year, I ended up spending some time with my friend Mike, who I hadn’t seen in twelve years. We were best friends from third grade up through high school, but after high school I went off to university and Mike moved down to southern California and we didn’t see each other as often any more. The last time I had seen Mike was in Laguna Beach — I don’t remember what his job was, but part of it involved driving his boss around in a 70s-era red limo that had reputedly been owned by Farrah Fawcett, which was pretty cool (although I have to admit that Kate Jackson was always my favorite Angel).

Mike and I became fast friends on the first day of school in third grade. We had both moved to Petaluma from different cities (he moved from Pike’s Peak, Colorado, and I moved from San Francisco), and we were the only kids in the class that hadn’t known each other since the moment of birth. We were also wearing exactly the same blue-and-red striped rugby shirt, except mine was long-sleeved and his was short-sleeved. Soon after we became best friends, we also discovered that, in our nine-year old hearts, we had a crush on the same girl. She had blue eyes, and blond hair done up in ringlets, and she wore white dresses with frilly collars, and bows, and things like that. Now that I think about it, I realize that, except for the length of the hair, my third-grade crush looked disturbingly like Shirley Temple.* I suppose I went to grade school at a strange time — in San Francisco the girls were tough and wore jeans and shirts, and when they wore dresses they were kind of cool, early 70s numbers (that’s because it was the 70s). But when I moved to Petaluma, it was like going back in time — all the girls were wearing little black shoes with straps, and dresses with frills, and lots of them had ringlets. And sometimes they even had pink or blue bows in their hair. It makes me swoon to just think about how weird it was.

In any case, visiting the Tolsons was fantastic, and strange too. Mike’s mom and dad were both there, and neither of them seems to have aged a bit in the last 12 years. Mike’s brother Mark came by with his two kids, and Mike was there too, having moved back to Petaluma recently. We tried to do all the catching up we could do in an hour, and then we spent a little time walking in the yard, which seems a lot smaller than it did when we were kids and camping in the backyard, or kicking soccer balls through the picture window of Mike’s grandparents’ home next door. Mike also kindly recounted the story of when we were both walking down in the creek at the bottom of the hill and I decided to show him that the real way to test whether or not a fence is electric is to stand in the water and grab the metal wires with your hand. Needless to say, the fence was electric.

The Tolsons were like a second family to me when I was growing up — I played my first Atari there, Mike and I started getting into audio equipment and programming Apple computers at about the same time, and we watched Starblazers together after school.

Too short a visit.

“Set the WABAC machine Sherman!”

*I bet you didn’t know that Shirley Temple was the U.S. Ambassador to Czechoslovakia from 1989-1992. You’d think that was Reagan’s decision, but them was the Bush years.