What? WHAT?!?! I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Perhaps you could sign?

Blog Silence:

Is hereby broken by this catchy mashup funosity.

I am not ashamed. It made me boogie in my little seat.



It's by Girl Talk, Song called "No Pause".

Groove with the Monkey chickens...it's sugary pap for the soul.

Shenanigans of the Aged...

The Bub is out of town on business. I dropped him off, like a petulant tween to summer camp, to the parking lot of his office early Saturday morning. There, fifty or so of his compatriots similarly squinted into the morning sun and desultorily waved at one another while bemoaning a travel plan which required an egregiously long bus ride before joining a plane to their final destination. Despite the early hour, I took pains with my appearance, not having met most of his co-workers, and wanting to at least look good if I burst into tears at the goodbyes.

[I'm not good with separation, having to leave for nine months to do my research has left me beyond miserly with my time with him. It was far worse in the months before I left for my research, we had just moved in together and every second apart seemed a cruel cosmic joke. I am late to this game of love, having had little experience before the Bub. It seemed to be the ultimate in irony that having finally found the fantasticness of the Bub, I had to leave him to follow my non-romantic dreams.]

How's that for a soppy aside? At any rate, I did smother him in kisses, but didn't act the crying weepy girl. I did, in my effort to be cool and blase, in my attempt to kiss him and breezily pull his hipster wagon out of the parking lot with waves and witty quips, nearly run over some of his other coworkers, innocently hauling suitcases to their coach bus. Listen, there were no tears; it was a success.

I waved and smiled and apologized to the startled conference goers, while cursing under my breath, recognizing that the cut and run was the only way to salvage my pride. I was rushing off to get back to the house, where my BFF was due to arrive for two days of slothful girlie fun times. I wish I could say once we were hardcore partiers...but in truth we never were. Our hanging out runs much more towards the, long chatting, the munching of various goodies, the dining out, and chatting chatting chatting...it's how we roll. I however, was totally unprepared for a two day houseguest. I had no food in the house, none of the staples required for what would undoubtedly be a chat fest of epic proportions. God help me, after running out for lunch, I showed her the swinging fun times of my little town by...taking her grocery shopping. It wasn't a 'oh, i just want to pick up the hummous and fancy cheeses we require for evening chattering, in and out in ten minutes, then off to fancy times!'. It was, 'will you push the cart while I bargain shop for toilet paper?' Thank heavens she's BFF we manage to have fun pretty much regardless of what we're doing. We have been very very close since high school, my first chick friend after years of being 'one of the boys' who engaged in frequent 'boys night out with Monkey'.

We chattered past midnight, and paid for our dietary sins Sunday morning with a loooong trip to my gym. We planned for gym+(sensible!)lunch + a little shopping before she headed back home. In reality we got gym+ low cal lunch, heavy on the food poisoning + retiring back home for napping (me) and vomiting (her). By the late evening she was able to get a little ginger ale down, but not keep her eyes open, so I tucked her into bed, fielded Facebook inquiries from her folks (they're like my second set of parents) asking how our weekend was (vomitatious! I'm retaining custody of your daughter til tomorrow!) and toddled off myself.

I had a crap night of sleep and have not even attempted work today. After bundling her out the door for the one and a half hour drive home to her bed, I retired to mine to try and battle an ongoing headache (thanks William's coffee pub and crap food of incredible saltitude and food borne illness emporium!). Now, into the afternoon, I've managed to descend to the basement to listlessly channel surf and think about the easiest way to get chinese food without moving from hte couch (can the cat be trained to answer the door?).

I also miss the Bub. It's not the incredibly dramatic, heartwrenching sorrow of facing nine months apart, but I'm pretty whiny in his absence. In honor of that, I present the list of things I miss about the Bub.

1) Curling around him in the late morning hours, before we wake up properly.
2) Giggling. He makes me laugh even when I'm determinedly grumpy.
3) Lying all entwined with him on the couch, filling the minutes of boring television commercials by harassing him via trying to stick my fingers up his nose until he snaps and tickling/kissing ensues.
4) Smelling his neck.
5) Him snuffling and biting mine.

He's days away from coming home...whiny updates might continue. You've been warned.

~Monkey

Baby Steppin'

Ahoy from the silence.

I'm happy to report that throwing my back out a few weekends ago propelled me into bed working (non dirty variety) which, for some reason increased my output of work dramatically. Even after I was fully mobile and back to working out at the gym, I have continued to wake up, make breakfast for me and the Bub, and then, after ushering him out the door with a kiss and a saucy comment, Lucille Ball style(z), I hop back into bed, curl around the laptop and tappa tappa tappa until my daily quota is done. Then I'd hop out of bed, throw some dinner together, and hop into the shower in time for the Bub to come home. It sounds pretty Suzie Homemaker, but the fact is, I love love love cooking. Love cooking for the Bub especially, who is remarkably appreciative and who never fails to be adventurous and laudatory. Anthony Bourdain said that cooking for someone else, with them in mind, is almost as intimate as sex...or rather as making love. I tend to agree.

Anyhow, I've been doing some data stuff, transcribing stuff, tedious stuff. Stuff that doesn't really make me feel like I'm 'producing' stuff. It's not the same as writing stuff, as 'producing' pages which mean stuff...instead of producing stuff which will be used to produce other stuff. Now I feel like a whole new phase is beginning, like i get to use my skills and think about what I collected,and write something that is responsible, and useful and good. I hope my brain goo will cooperate.

Anxiety....

I have a problem with it. That's all I'm willing to say right now. But dear universe, I am putting it out there. I am trying to be more mindful to examine my reactions to everyday issues. I don't like the way I react sometimes. I don't like the extent to which soemtimes my anxieties conscript my daily actions. Don't get me wrong, i'm not a house bound housefrau...but I feel like I used to deal with shit a little better than I currently do.

I know that issues about anxiety often get worse without assistance. I am aware of that. I am trying. I am being more mindful and trying to see whether I can give myself a chance to relax, reflect and try harder. I have committed to seeking assistance should I find myself no further along in a few months.

I have so much to be grateful for...I would like to better enjoy the bounty. Today, I am grateful for a bunch of stuff.
1) I can cook...and I think i'm gettign better everyday.
2) I threw my back out, and it gave me pause to recognize how wondrous and powerful my body is when healthy...gives me perspective, as I heal, to treat it as such in the future.
3) The Bub is in my life, with his patience and humour and I've never been happier.
4) Camping was glorious, was life affirming, despite some anxiety caused by, as always, issues out of my control which became big big big.




~Monkey

Gone campin'

Hey Reader(s)!

I'm outtie, going camping, gonna be a cool kid, going to face my canoe related fears and take the plunge into the great outdoors. The forecast calls for rain, but I'm giving it up to the Lord, southern black baptist church style, with swaying, sweating and clapping of hands. I'm not religous in the slightest, but I feel this is a good sign. Dear Universe, I'm taking a risk, pushing my own boundaries and hoping not to fall out of a canoe or be soaked to the bone or get pneumonia! I'm good people, right?

In completely unrelated news...I have no idea if this is a viral video for something..but OMG did it ever make me laugh.

"Olga you are a very elegant woman"...*shudder*

Have a great safe weekend kids.

~Monkey loves you!

Monkey Love Letter

I really should re-name this blog 'exercises in patience'. My laptop? Gone kablooey. Ok, I'm being slightly dramatic, it's been experiencing growing pains, been acting up, doing the computer equivalent of locking itself in it's room for hours on end, only to emerge with gothily ripped clothes and questionable eyeliner.

Like adolescence, it's happened slowly, but also sort of reared its over-gelled angry head all of a sudden. Last week, my transcription software zonked; by yesterday, nothing was responsive. The Bub, working from home, was first immune to my grumblings and loud stabby typing. Those noises are my normal MO, after all.

Then, after about an hour of fussing with no real progress, my sighs became louder and then...tears. I am not proud of the tears. In my defence, I had a crap night of sleep the night prior, so everything was right under the surface anyhow. I snapped at him. Twice. And I'm not proud of either, particularly as the first time he was attempting to lighten the situation and the second he was flat out asking an honest question. Each time I snapped, I sighed loudly before screeching "I don't know!" while swabbing my runny nose with the edge of my decade old university sweatshirt and avoiding his eyes. Apparently my emo-puter issues were rubbing off on me. It was not sexy.

My man, my main squeeze, my hombre-- is unflappable. He smiled at me. SMILED. AT. ME. And then he calmly began the steps to back up all my data and wipe my harddrive. He did this while finishing the rest of his workday. I, in a manner which I am totally not happy about, contiued to freak out. I channeled my anxiety, over the lost hours of work, the (miniscule) potential that I would have serious ongoing computer issues into steadfastly playing MahJong on the Bub's version of Vista. I played for HOURS. I played resolutely and with ridiculous tenacity.

I stared at the screen of the Bub's desktop and clicked my anxiety away the way that those prone to seasickness resolutley stare at the horizon to avoid blowing chunks. The fact that I could channel my nervous energy into click click click click clicking away on that game really should stop me from making supreme fun of him for getting Vista...that and the fact that it was my XP that needed wiping. I won't lie, I'll probably still mock. Those Mac commercials are too funny.

He worked for seven hours, patiently fighting to find drivers and download software and restart restart restart a million times over while things updated and other minor miracles were performed. It's not done yet. After midnight I begged him to get some sleep. My only contribution to the evening, besides incessant MahJong clicking, was dinner.

What's the point? I'm a grateful, lucky, whiny brat. He is good and patient and remarkably assured in his understanding that 'if it can be done, I can do it'. And that is is unbelievable to me. Despite my episode, I feel as though I am an assured person, generally confident and very capable...yet he blows my mind. He is all that and more. I know a lot of you (who am I kidding, no one reads this) might say 'get over it, your boyfriend fixed your computer'. Me? I'm trying to be more present, more aware, and always more grateful. He could have easily pointed me towards the phone book, rightfully arguing that it would be a huge pain for him to do this for me. But he took up the challenge.

He's fantastic. He is awesome in the truest sense of the word.

Dear Bub,

I love you. I promise to try never to take you for granted.

Love,
Monkey