Barb’s Burblings

Because I’m still chilly, some 2.5 hours after coming inside and despite adding layers, I’ve decided to distract myself by thinking of baseball. It’s almost February, which means that it’s almost time for pitchers and catchers to report! Spring training, yay! Not that I’m going this year, unfortunately. But still, baseball makes me happy. Now I’m just going to pretend that it’s July, and I’m sitting at Camden Yards, and it’s hot…

Also, happiness that O’s FanFest was last weekend, and thus the return of the “Barb in the O’s dugout” series:

I meant to take the bus this morning. I had already driven to work three times this week (though I only had to pay twice, since yesterday I went downtown after work and so didn’t have to pay) and am trying to watch my spending. The bus is supposed to come around 8:08; it usually ranges anytime between then and 8:15–which is crazy, because I’m, like, the third stop on this route. And if there’s a traffic jam that would impede the bus’s progress, I’d be able to see it.

So I left my apartment at 8:05, dropped off my trash and recycling, and went to the bus stop. Now, even while going to the dumpster, I can still see whether the bus goes by. And it didn’t. So I’m standing outside. In the 20 degree weather. And the wind. And I stand. And I stand.

8:15 comes and I say, “Screw it” and drive to work.

Now, there are times when I can get behind the bus being a bit early. But today is not a day when someone is going to get to the bus stop early. Who wants to stand in the windy, 20-degree weather longer than they absolutely need to? (Not me, I’ll tell you that. It took me like 3 hours to warm up from those 10 minutes of standing outside.)

Not a happy way to begin the day. Well, except that I did get to drive to work in my warm car. That was a bonus. But still, Ride On, you owe me $6.75.

In the morning, I watch tv as I get ready for work. If I’m on time, it’s the History Channel–Civil War Journal, The Most, Modern Marvels. If I’m running a bit late, it’s The West Wing on Bravo. Turns out these two channels have very similar demos; or, at least, similar enough that they run the same commercials. Seriously, I’ve seen that stupid Rosetta Stone commercial at least a million times. I’m still interested in the product, but please, please stop selling me on it.

Anyway, there’s a new one that really annoys me. The narrator says something about people not paying attention when shopping, and shows a blindfolded woman picking a frozen meal out of a freezer aisle. Then she takes off the blindfold and looks at the nutritional information. “300 calories?!” she says, horrified. “And 8 grams of fat!” Then it mentions that there’s this soup that’s only 80 calories! Why are you consuming so many calories needlessly?

Well, first, if I’m buying a frozen meal, I’m probably going to have it for lunch. At work. Where I don’t exactly have access to a stove upon which to heat the soup. And no, it didn’t seem that this soup came in those “Heat in the microwave” containers.

But more annoyingly, really, 300 calories and 8 grams of fat (which is on the high end for a Healthy Choice or similar frozen meal) IS NOT THAT MUCH FOR A MEAL. If you assume that the average person should be eating 2000 calories a day, we’re talking about 15% of the day’s calories. Which seems about right, for lunch. Honestly, I don’t know that 80 calories is going to power me through the afternoon. Maybe if I paired it with someone…which, of course, means I’d be consuming more than 80 calories for lunch. Quite possibly, something at much as 300 calories.

Now, it’s not that I’m anti-soup. I’m not. I frequently have soup for lunch on weekends. I’m just saying that sheesh, people, it’s not like we can live without any calories. Simmer down.

I was killing some time in a Bed, Bath, & Beyond a couple of weekends ago when I came across the display:

I love it. The romantic music, paired with…plungers. Win!

I was having a good day. Plans with a friend fell through, which sucked, but I managed to finish the work I had brought home and update my photo album. (Yes, I still have physical photo albums.) I watched some tv, I played some Wii; I was having a good day, following a good weekend. I was in a cheery frame of mind.

And then night fell. And I went from being like, “I have so many things to keep me occupied!” to “Everything’s so boring.” Sunday Night Syndrome had struck. Belatedly, of course, but that’s what happens on 3-day weekends.

Sunday nights are the worst. You go from the joy and freedom of the weekend to contemplating the return to work. And I like my job. I just prefer sitting around at home, apparently. It comes from school days, when Sunday nights were the time you had to sit down and do your homework. It’s not really an issue now, but that weight remains. It was much worse when I was younger; I remember going to a Broadway show and getting sad because the next day was Sunday, and then I’d have to go to school. Of course, this was a couple months into a new school after we moved, but that same sort of feeling has stuck with me.

So I’m trying to combat it by treating tonight like a normal Monday night. I’m going to go to the gym and then grab dinner and watch How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory. The only difference will be that I’m more well-rested than a typical Monday evening. Ah, television. Thank you for having new shows tonight; it helps.

I’ve been amused reading the latest entries on Pamie’s blog. She’s been posting letters she wrote when she was 15 to boys she liked/dated. (It seems like there may have been a relationship, though not the undying love the 15-year-old Pamie believed it to be.) It reminds me of when Wing posted chapters from the novel she wrote as a teenager–now available for sale. (It’s pretty darn amusing. I say this as someone who has her own writing from a similar period in life squirreled away somewhere.)

Anyway, in that vein, I pulled out my own old diary, just to see. And oh, good times. For example, this, from when I was 14:

After trudging through the day, I realized something: last night, I gave [Boy] my heart.

This was written the day after a party I went to, in which Boy and I (and a bunch of other people) chatted and he talked about how depressed he was that his friends all had girlfriends but he didn’t. This was, quite possibly, the most I ever talked to this boy, with whom I had one class.

All day (even now) I feel this empty, gnawing feeling where my heart should be. I think about him all the time. Sometimes I take out old yearbooks and just stare at him. I don’t even know what I see in him. All I know is that I stare at him in Geometry all the time,

And I wonder why I did so poorly in that class!

I veg out thinking of him, and picturing him helps me to sleep at night.

Mind you, the next entry, dated two weeks later, starts

I took back my heart. I still have a crush on [Boy], but I took my heart back.

Well, that’s encouraging. And I somehow managed to be WAY less melodramatic about my next crush, with whom I had an actual relationship. Not a romantic relationship, mind you, but we were friends. Actual friends. We talked on the phone. We hung out. I believe he’s now a priest.

But to give you even more of an insight into my mind, we have this:

I might have a crush on [Yet Another Boy]. I’m not sure yet. I hope not; he’s only in 8th grade.

I was in 10th at the time.

But he is taller than me.

There was possibly more to the attraction than that, but I’m not going to swear on it.

In some ways, I wish I were more different from the me of 1993 than I am–looking at my life, I can see myself developing crushes, and it not being THAT different. But the main thing is, I REALIZE that it’s just a crush. Not whatever I thought these infatuations were.

There are times when it’s WAY easier being 31 than 15. Also, you can have ice cream for dinner and nobody cares.

It’s 11:15 on a Friday night and instead of doing something fun, like seeing a movie or playing Super Mario Bros. or watching John Oliver’s stand-up show, I’m working. (Or, you know, taking a break from working.) I have a freelance project that’s due Monday. I’ve had this to work on since December 22. So there I was with a choice: Work on it over the holidays, when I theoretically had more time, or wait until now.

Naturally I waited. I’m a procrastinator at heart, but this was less a case of just putting it off and more making a conscious decision to not worry about it until this week. I had a busy week off–dentist appointment, trip to the Newseum, gathering with friends, cleaning. I wound up with really not much time to sit around and do nothing, and I grabbed at that chance. I spent last Sunday watching a 6-hour documentary about Monty Python, laying on my couch in my pajamas. It was so worth it.

But it is a trade-off. I was asked to take on another project. I could definitely use the money, but I had such an incredibly busy December that I figured my sanity was worth it. I needed some time without work hanging over my head like that. But it’s a hard decision to make, because it really is gratifying getting that check. (The work itself isn’t too bad, either. Generally.)

Similarly, I also need to finish Anna Karenina for my book club on Monday. I have a good 300 pages to go. Plus this project. Plus volunteering both tomorrow AND Sunday. And then I went and got a ticket to see The Fantasticks tomorrow night. A little crazy? Sure. But I want to see it and it closes this weekend. And this way, I have a good 3-hour window in which to read between finishing at Ford’s and heading to Arena. There’s a method to my madness.

But again, having fun tomorrow means focusing tonight. And break’s over.

A lot of times after a vacation, part of me looks forward to going back to work. I enjoy routines. For all that I joke about winning the lottery and quitting my job, I know that even if I didn’t have a job, I would need to find some sort of routine by which to live. So after some time away, on a random schedule, the prospect of heading back to work is usually not a bad one. After all, I like my job, I like my coworkers.

I could go for a longer break now, though. I’ve been off for almost two weeks (since December 23), but I haven’t been home a ton, and don’t feel like I’ve had time to just lounge around and not do anything. I’ve been doing fun things–dinner with friends, going to the Newseum, having an open house and hanging out with people–but I haven’t had enough lounging-around-in-my-pajamas time. And next weekend I have Ford’s and Smithsonian, so it’s not like I have free time then. But hey, at least Martin Luther King Day is coming up…

I’ve spent most of this break preoccupied. I think I’m going to go to the movies tomorrow, maybe check out Up in the Air. While I’d have to get out of my pajamas, it might help me get out of my head a bit.