And the rest of Baltimore

Friday evening was low-key, gearing up for spa day and going out the next day. I jumped on FB to send J an email -- he wanted my address so he can send me a couple of autographed items he has for me. And then I noticed that we're not friends anymore. Interesting.

First I was pissed, and then I laughed. I was friends with him about a month ago when I posted on his wall that I was sorry I missed his phone call the night before. He removed it, and then must have unfriended me. HA! It actually made my day.

Saturday was a fabulously girly day -- manicure, pedicure, lunch, a little shopping (including a LaPurla bra for moi), back to the spa for massage and facial. Then a shower, make-up, dressing, and out to dinner at the Capital Grille.

I can't even describe how delicious the food was (12-year-aged balsamic vinegar over fresh mozzarella!) or how great the service was. At one point, Bubbles looked at me and said, "that guy's checking you out."

I looked over a mid-50-year-old sitting with his wife and another couple, and caught him looking. I smiled over my beer glass. Several times throughout the night, we made eye contact.

Really? Even without trying, without talking, without flirting -- the married man magnet works? After they were finished the wives headed to the bar while the men waited for the bill, and sure enough, he came over. "Hello ladies, special occasion?"

Bubbles immediately said, "it's her birthday!"

He took my hand in both of his and wished me a happy birthday.

I shook my head when he left. Perhaps it was the two large bottles of beer I had consumed, the nostalgia of being in Baltimore, or the fact that I was suddenly 40, I looked at Bubbles and said, "he wasn't ugly, he was fairly attractive, why can't I find a guy like that? A single guy. I have no problem with the age thing...is it really that hard?"

She patted my hand -- there were no words.

We headed to a bar after dinner, and now I know -- or remember -- why I don't go to bars anymore. It was crowded, people were obnoxiously drunk and bumping into me. Guys were hitting on Bubbles left and right. I was ready to go after an hour. But the night was still young. So as we were walking to the car, Bubbles said one word. "Boobies?"

I looked at her and smiled. "Boobies." We headed off the Hustler Club for a late-night drink and a little debouchery. New beer in one hand, fistful of ones in the other, we settled down near a stage and clanked our bottles to my 40th birthday and enjoyed the looks on the men's faces as they wished their girlfriends/wives were as cool as we are.

From a long day, a filling dinner, and just being over tired, even after three shots, I wasn't drunk. I think I was beyond it. We closed the Club. I can't remember the last time I was out at 2:00am, but here I was.

I had to drive home the next day, but was so grateful that I took Monday off. It made the five-hour drive that much more tolerable.

And so I turned 40 -- though no one we told over the course of the weekend believed me. Even the esthetician put my skin at 29 to 32. Thank God for good genes and sunscreen.

I turned 40, and while I may not want to stay out all night, I know I still can. And while the men who frequent bars have no use for me, still the older man is still wanting some of Ellie. Again, if only that older gentleman weren't married. I guess one thing at a time, right?

The fact that I have a positive attitude about all this is amazing. I'm not going to over-analyze or wonder why.

Here's to my first week in my 40s.

Being 40 Makes Me Wiser

I'm in Baltimore for a birthday bonanza weekend. The 40s started out great and made me realize that with friends like these, I don't need no sitnkin' man (okay maybe I still do for some things).

My staff threw me a surprise birthday party during the day -- party disguised as a budget meeting. And then what I thought was going to be just a couple girlfriends turned into a whole group taking me out to dinner. And Bubbles contacted them all to let them know what spa we would be going to over the weekend and I got more than $100 in gift certificates to put toward spa day.

Thursday I headed to Baltimore to see a high school friend and then T & S and my god-daughters. I had each block of day planned perfectly -- seeing all my Howard County friends while I was on that side of town, including breakfast with J. Well, planned breakfast. We all know how it will turn out.

And true to form, on my birthday he texted to see if instead of breakfast, we could meet for drinks on Friday. I told him yes, but that I would be in Mt. Washington by then. He said, no problem, will text you then.

Thursday, as I was pulling into Laurel to see previously mentioned high school friend, he texted to see if we could meet in Columbia. We went back and forth, me giving him my entire itinerary, and basically showing him (without spelling it out) that it would be ridiculous for me to from Howard County on Friday morning, downtown the museum, to Lutherville to meet a friend, and back to Howard County to meet him, and then back to Mount Washington to stay with Bubbles. Was there someplace in the middle?

He texted back, how about Catonsville? I finally had to spell it out to him. It was stupid and selfish of him to expect me to do that. It wasn't the 25 or so miles each way, it was that it involved Friday afternoon Baltimore beltway traffic. Each way!

And for him to suggest Catonsville as the middle! The hard part would be over. I'd be done with the beltway, I might as well have met him in Columbia. I told him that it wouldn't work.

And so, for the first time, in a long time, I said no to J. And it felt good. No walking all over me. No one-sided friendship. I would have done that drive for any number of friends -- mostly because I know that they wouldn't have expected me to. He expected it. Like it's some sort of right, that I have nothing better to do than to drive to him.

Not this time. Not anymore.

And so halfway into my Baltimore weekend, I'm feeling good. I'm feeling wise. Not old.

"Mr. Big" Was too Generous of a Nickname

When I talk about J on this blog, I refer to him as....well J. On my naughty blog and in general when Bubbles and I are talking about him (when I'm not using a derogatory name), I refer to him as Mr. Big. He's my Big. Think Sex and the City.

Last week, he texted me at midnight. I was in an "I don't care if I'm bad" mood and responded. Amazingly, even though he was in North Carolina on a golfing trip with his buddies, we kept the 15-minute text conversation on a nothing but platonic level. And it was kind of nice.

The next day I tweeted something like, "so good to talk with Big last night, even if he woke me up ;)"

He texted me later and asked "So am I supposed to be Big?"

"Yea, like in Sex and the City."

"I'm confused."

"You're my Mr. Big. The one I can always count on, always there, but no commitment"

"When you say things like that, it really bothers me. I thought you were my friend."

WTF. I didn't even know how to respond to it. Of course, this is all over text and I was in the middle of getting my taxes done, so I couldn't even call him.

"It's losing something in translation. It's a good thing. Just know that it was nice to talk to you last night."

"Sorry I'm being sensitive"

"No problem. Sorry to confuse you."

"I was probably over-reacting"

"We're good?"

"Sure."

I couldn't believe he was so sensitive. Good lord, I didn't know I was dealing with Chris, who never wanted drama, who after sleeping with me for nearly seven years still wouldn't say that we had any sort of relationship.

It'll be interesting to see when I hear from him again. I'm going to Baltimore next month, and I will need to touch base with him (he has some autographed items for me for whatever Bubbles and I do to raise me some baby money). I'm thinking I'll wait until the week before and ask him if I can pick it up at his office, or if he can drop it off at the museum and I'll get them when I see Johnny Z.

Not going to ask if he wants to have breakfast. Not going to ask if he wants to meet for a drink. I think it's best that I stick to my "no more J" rule. Because really, even if we did plan for something, what are the chances that he would actually follow through? No commitment, remember.

Plan B Underway

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The Bambino vs. the bambino

That's really what it came down to. My decision about Baltimore and moving back there. I thought long and hard. I woke up early thinking about. I stayed awake late thinking about it.

I didn't talk to a lot of people about it. Mostly because I knew they wouldn't make the decision for me. Or maybe because in my hear I knew what my decision was and I didn't want to be talked out of it.

Either way, this morning I called Mike and told him that it killed me to say it, but I couldn't accept the job. And then I started to cry. I told him that I needed to be where I had a strong support system, that I couldn't have gone through what I have over the past two and a half years without the support I have up here, and I'm still going through it.

And even if that all worked itself out, if suddenly I a baby was dropped into my lap, I knew what commitment the Museum needed from me five years ago, and I can only imagine the kind of commitment it would need now. And so it came down to the fact that I can't live, breath and eat the Babe Ruth Museum and be a mom. I can't work every Saturday, can't work six days a week in the office and seven days a week out of the office and be a mom, not a good mom.

He understood. He told me he loved me, that I always had a family down there, but he knows that it's not the kind of family I need right now.

I called Johnny Z after that and told him before Mike could. He took it well, and told me it was the right decision. That I needed to take care of myself first, and at this point in my life, with what I'm trying to accomplish, I can't give up the stability of working at a college vs. the instability of a museum that is always worried about cash flow.

I could have done great things there, but I know that now is not the time to go back and put my stamp back on that place. And once the decision was made, I don't feel bad about it, I'm not second-guessing it. And that, as sad as I am for some reasons, feels good.

Decisions, decisions

I talked to my former boss (my boss from Baltimore) this morning. He offered me a job.

It's tempting -- I could be working in sports again, I'd be making more money, I'd have better weather, I'd be closer to my family in Virginia. It'd be challenging -- a job different than what I was doing when I was there five years ago. And if I was successful, it could be very rewarding.

And then it's not tempting -- I'd have to pick up and move, almost immediately, I'd be further away from most of my family, I'd be giving up a job that is fun and sometimes challenging, but a job that mostly ends at 4:30. There are no nights and weekends.

The pick up and move thing goes beyond the logistical nightmare of it happening. I could do it. I've done it before. But I also need to think about the baby thing. Do I want to derail where I am with that? Do I want to raise a baby in Baltimore? And can i raise a baby, by myself, in Baltimore?

I called Bubbles when I got off the phone with Mike, and after saying all of these things to her, she was blunt. She told me that I'm putting too much weight into my decision about a baby that may or may not happen. I didn't respond.

And after I got off the phone with her, I was hurt. When I was relaying the conversation to another friend at work, I started to tear up.

And then I was pissed.

And then I realized that it was just her opinion, I called her after all. I need to hear the other side, right?

And after thinking about it all day, I'm going to respectfully disagree with her. I have to consider the baby thing -- and I can't think about it as if it might not happen. I think I've proven over the past two and a half years that I'm not giving up.

And yes, I know there are fertility doctors in Maryland, and maybe even better resources for adoption -- so the fact that I can do it down there isn't what I'm weighing in my mind. It's whether I want to or not.

Mike ended the conversation by saying, "I want you. You need to decide if you want us."

I just don't know what the answer is. Fortunately, he is giving me until the end of the month. And if I feel like I'm leaning towards no, I will try to let him know before the end of the month. Just to be fair.

Any thoughts?

Back from Vacation

I've been on vacation, and technically still am until the day after Labor Day. I left last Thursday for Richmond and arrived in time to spend the afternoon laying by the pool in 95-degree weather. It was heavenly.

And I did what I wanted. I didn't have to think. Didn't have to explain anything. There was no baby talk, no decision making. It was just vacation. Pool, shopping, dinner with a friend from college, the beach, shopping, pool. It couldn't have gotten better.

I headed up to Baltimore on Sunday and spent two days with my friend Tim and Sonya. You may remember that Tim and I had some issues last summer. We have since moved past it. Sunday night he worked, so I spent the evening with his wife and kids. Monday, his wife and I went shopping and then we all went out to lunch.

And then Monday night, I got to see my Yankees. I visited friends in the press box and was in my seat in time for the first pitch. Lots of beers and an almost perfect game later (a real perfect game, not just that it was a lovely evening), Mariano came in in the bottom of the 9th and the game was over. Yankees win.

I had my cell phone in my pocket and was updating my FB with pictures and texts from the game. In the middle of the 4th, as I was checking a text from J, I got one from E. When it rains, it pours.

J wanted to know if we could change breakfast the next day from 9 to 9:30. No problem. And E wanted to know how my day was. I told him, better now. And asked if he liked the picture I had sent him the other night (from my soak in the tub). He loved it.

At one point during the game, Tim put his arm around me and thanked him for being such a good "aunt lulu" to his girls. I told him I loved, and Sonya (his wife), that they were all like family. And then he brought up the night of out minor indiscretion, many years ago. "We're not talking about that. I still feel guilty that I let it go as far as it did. I'm just glad, we stopped."

"You know, Lulu, that night wasn't an accident." WTF? I couldn't comprehend that. I looked at the field and made a comment about Derek Jeter's ass or something.

After the game, Tim and I went to bar near the museum for another round, and I desperately needed food. E texted again to see if I enjoyed the game (he had seen that it was a near-perfect game) and J texted to tell me that he needed to cancel, had to go to Philly for the day. Was I surprised? Of course not. Disappointed? Unfortunately a little. Especially after he had texted earlier to confirm (without any prompting from me)and change times. Tim saw that I was annoyed, but didn't say anything.

It was all of midnight when we headed out. And then it started. Although, at first, I didn't realize where the conversation was headed. He started off by telling me that he's in a men's prayer group and that he has me on his list of people they pray for. I told him I appreciated that. And I told him my story about how I was in church one day, thinking about J and E texted.

We were sharing, it felt appropriate. In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut. Because then he started talking about how he prays for me to find my way, that I need to open my heart up to Jesus, that all the pain and loss I've experienced over the past two years are because I don't have a relationship with God.

Let me remind you of my mindset -- I'm over-tired, I'm drunk, I haven't really let loose with crying over the last negative test. Until right now. I sat in his car, tears rolling down my face, trying to catch my breath.

At this point, we were home, in the driveway. I wasn't responding to anything he was saying. Something about feeling the holy spirit in him and praying for me to find my way, to find someone to share my life and my faith with, that if he wasn't married that he would like to get to know me on a more spiritual level, that he's upset that I have such feelings for J, that I would be upset over a canceled breakfast, that he didn't realize I had feelings for him still. On and on about my life, and what I'm doing and how he feels about it.

I was done. "I need to go to bed." I got out of the car, waited for him to unlock the door and walked past him to the girls' room where I was sleeping. I went into the bathroom, blowing my nose and trying to stop crying. I heard him walk down the hall in my direction. And he walked right into the bathroom.

He hugged me and I pulled away. "You have no fucking clue what I've been through for the past two years. Acupuncture, fertility massages, yoga, driving to Syracuse every two days, giving myself shots until I'm black and blue all over my stomach, church every week, prayer, meditation, visualization, not eating ice cream so that god forbid my uterus isn't warm enough, drinking black-fucking-strap molasses every morning...and for you to tell me that I didn't do enough, that I needed to open myself up to God. Is that why you think I didn't get pregnant? Fuck you."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Well, that's how I took it. I need to go to bed."

He hugged me again, and I let him. It was just easier. I needed to go to bed. And this seemed like the only way to get rid of him. He finally left and I fell into a fitful sleep. At least I was leaving their house in the morning and I could get some space from him.

I acted as if nothing happened in the morning. And once the girls left for school, I finished packing my bag and did my hair. With breakfast canceled, I had some time to kill before heading downtown, but I figured I would kill it somewhere else.

As I was straightening my hair, I heard my phone beep. It was a text from Tim in the other room. Some more mumbo jumbo about opening my heart, etc. I closed the phone. And then another about how I'm better than J, and I need to move one from him. I closed the phone again, packed up and left.

I haven't heard from him since then, but I'm guessing that in the next week or two, he will dig it all up. I hope I'm wrong about that.

I visited my old work, caught up with everyone there, even got recruited to apply for Bitch-stine's old job at the museum. It's an interesting prospect, and I'm going to humor them by asking some questions, but I don't think that's the right place for me right now.

I had lunch with Bubbles and filled her in on the last four days. I miss seeing her like this. To be closer to friends like her, moving back to Baltimore would be great.

After leaving downtown, I went to my friend Wanda's house. We've been friends since the mid-90s and it would be nice to be able to talk about the baby stuff with her, to get her perspective on what I should do, as well as the job stuff.

It didn't happen, and that along with the way things ended with Tim, really put a damper on the Baltimore part of my trip. When I got there, we had a snack with her five-year-old, and then took both kids to the playground, meeting one of her neighbors there. There was never a time for the two of us to talk. By the time we got home, her husband was home, it was dinner, getting the kids ready for bed and then the three of us watched TV and went to bed.

I was bummed. And it made me put into perspective the way life is for my friends who have families -- that sometimes, there is no time for my needs. Even a half hour or so of one-on-one time.

Vacation, Finally.

I leave for Richmond tomorrow, and I'll be in Baltimore on Sunday. I'll have family, friends and baseball over the course of the next week. Hopefully I'll reach some sort of decision and peace.

I went to the gym tonight. It opened today, and it was hard. My skin itched from being that sweaty for the first time in months. But it felt good. Three miles down. A good start for getting the baby weight off.

Weekend Update: J

I knew that J wasn't going to be at the museum event, he had another event for one of his clients. But he started texting me once the Bash started, asking if we could meet for a drink after both events.

I told him to meet me at Pickles, that's where we were all going. "Can't do that place. Meet me now at the Marriott on Eutaw."

"I'm not walking four blocks alone. Come pick me up."

"Sorry can't do that place."

"Come get me at the museum."

"OK...leaving now."

And then he texted me almost immediately. "Gotta have a drink with the staff. give me 20?"

"Fine."

My event was over, my friends were all headed to Pickles, so that's where I went. A block from the ballpark and museum. I was drinking and talking, meeting Dwayne, flirting with Dwayne, and then another text.

"Where are you?"

"Pickles. The Bash is over."

"I'm not going in there." That should have been my first red flag. You're not coming in because you don't people to see us together?

"I can meet you out front."

"K....half hour."

And then I left with Dwayne. He texted me that he was out front and I left Dwayne's and walked the block back to Pickles. And then I realized I had no purse. I got to Pickles and called J, rather than text. "I have to run and check in with my friend. Be right there."

And so I went in, realized Tim didn't have my purse, checked the bathroom, asked the bartender, and then went back outside. No J. No J's car. I called him and it went right to voice mail.

I had bigger things to worry about and couldn't deal with his ego. But as I was sober the next day, I did start to worry. So when I got to Bubbles, I texted him: "sorry about last night. I thought my purse was stolen and totally freaked out. Sorry my crisis impacted us getting together."

Nothing. About 40 minutes later, I texted him again. "Wow you must be really pissed at me."

"Why didn't you just tell me that instead of jerking me around?"

So yea, I guess I bruised his ego. Time for damage control, although I question why I let him made me feel this way. "I'm sorry. I was panicking, I was drunk. And I think you know me better than that...I wouldn't jerk you around."

Bubbles and I left for dinner, and my mood was definitely effected by not hearing back from him, but I said what I could, and I had to let him cool off. After dinner, waiting for the movie to start, the familiar beep beep beep beep of my cell phone, signally a text from him.

"Hey, I can't meet you for drinks tonight, but what time are you leaving tomorrow? time for coffee in the morning?"

We went back and forth, decided on coffee at 10:30, he would text me in the morning with details, and then some teasing back and forth.

When I woke up Sunday, I just wanted to get on the road. Why didn't I think this through better. I had a five-hour drive ahead of me. But I waited it out. I watched TV with Bubbles, took a shower, and about 9:30 broke down and texted him "are we still on?"

And then....nothing. Son of a bitch. Just like the time I sat in a bar in Mt. Washington, when I still lived in Baltimore, for an hour waiting on him. I finally called him and he said he was sorry, he couldn't make it, he got rear-ended.

Just like the time I sat in my car, reading a book in front of a restaurant downtown, after I had moved back to NY, was on my way to Richmond and was supposed to have lunch with him. He didn't answer his cell and when I finally called the office and got his assistant, I was told he left for an appointment. So I figured it was me. I waited for another 45 minutes (yes, I'm stupid). And then I left. The next week, he told me some bullshit story about his dog getting sick.

Just like the time we were going to have breakfast, again after I was in NY and on my way to Richmond. He texted me 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet to tell me he had a client meeting.

There are at least three or four other incidents in the eight years we've known each other. And each time, I get a little pissed, but I tease him more than act angry. It's part of my "everyone has to like me, don't make waves" complex, I'm sure. Lucia would have a field day with this.

And so, Sunday it was 10:00, and then 10:05. And finally at 10:10, I looked at Bubbles and said, "give me a hug, I'm leaving."

I drove north, I could have been on the road two hours earlier, but I stupidly thought I owed him from my thoughtlessness of Friday night. I watched the clock as much as I watched my speed....10:30.....10:45....11:00....and then finally at 11:20, four beeps.

"I suck...too many martinis last night. I'm just starting to move. Next time we'll get it right and neither one of us will screw it up."

I was pissed, but laughed, because it is so typical J. I couldn't text, as I was driving about 80mph on 83 North, less than 10 minutes from Harrisburg. So I called. It rang twice and then he must have pushed me to voice mail. Yes, let's not answer my phone call in front of the wife.

"Hey, it's a good thing you're so predictable. I've been on the road for an hour. And yes, neither of us will screw it up next time, but you have a lot more screw-ups to make up for than I do. Talk to you later."

And that's my J story from the weekend. I'd like to say that I'm completely done. But there is part of me that wants to make sure we're okay, that he's not mad. And I want to explain to him about Friday night. I didn't get that drunk just for the hell of it, and yea, it might be a little cheap to use my miscarriage as a sympathy factor, but any other weekend, I would not have had that much to drink, I would not have been that drunk.

So go ahead...tell me I'm a door mat, tell me I'm stupid for letting this idiot get to me. I know it. I just don't know what to do about it.

Weekend Update: Friday

Disclaimer: There were a few things I did this weekend that I don't condone, and had I been more sober, wouldn't have. But it all worked out in the end. :)

I left on Friday morning about 8:30. The weather was beautiful, I had sunny skies by Scranton, and it really warmed the car. There were a few times in the car, when I had some weepy moments, I wondered if I could really go through with the evening, acting happy, etc. But I figured I could fake it if I had to.

Once I got to Tim and Sonja's house, I was better. I played Sorry, Candyland, Hi-Ho Cherry-O and memory with my god-daughter and then got ready to go out with Tim and his buddies. We got to the museum a little after 5:00, and as we pulled into the parking lot, I saw my former "friend" (BB) and almost jumped out of the car. Until I saw his wife.

When I walked into the museum, BB was standing with Johnny Z (my absolute favorite person in the world). Arms wide spread, I said there's my favorite man, and hugged John. He told me after that BB's face just about dropped. I hugged him pretty quickly too, but he wasn't getting my first hug.

I saw so many people -- and was actually surprised at how excited people were to see me, how good they thought I looked, and how many people remembered me. I saw media people, Orioles people, members, volunteers, board members, a few athletes.

The beer was tasting too good. I need to remember when I only drink once every six or seven months (I haven't had any alcohol since the end of July when I went out with my Yankee), I need to alternate water or soda. Didn't think about that until the next day.

At one point, I saw BB standing alone and went over to him. And then saw his wife sitting behind him. "Ellie.....how are you?" So I had to by-pass him and go do hug-hug kiss-kiss with her, and catch up on the past four years. By the time that conversation was over, he was talking with other people.

I walked around the museum, took lots of pictures with some of my favorites, and kept drinking the beer. And then I saw my chance. I walked by him and just tugged on his sleeve, and kept walking. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back, continuing to talk to the man he was standing with, and then turned his attention to me.

"Hi Princess....you look great. I think about you a lot."

I leaned in for a smooch and said he looked great too. The man has not aged. For someone who is going to be 59 in May -- holy shit. He's like fine wine. He looks exactly as he did the last time I saw him, four and a half years ago.

"We had good times together, didn't we?"

I smiled and said yes. "I miss you, sunshine."

"I miss you too. More than you know." And it's the truth. For the type of relationship we had, I never felt cheap, I never felt used. I always felt special and cherished.

And that was that. And it was perfect. It was exactly what I would have wanted for an encounter.

When the event was over, we headed over to Pickles Pub. I was drunk, and probably could have continued with my buzz drinking water the rest of the night, but it never occurred to me to stop. Something made me think I could still drink the way I used to.

When we got to Pickles, a beautiful black man came up to me and told me he saw me at the Bash and wanted to come up to me, but couldn't figure out which guy I was with was my husband, but he had to tell me how beautiful I was. Okay....I know now, it's a line. But having not dated in a long while, having focused almost exclusively on baby making....it felt good to hear.

We stood around and chatted. I convinced him I had no husband, I had no boyfriend. After about an hour or more, he asked if I would go back to his apartment with him, which was only two blocks away. Now we can all think about what the right response to this is. In fact, there are probably several correct responses. I didn't come up with any of them.

"Sure....okay."

We ended up walking to his apartment, doing some smooching, and then Tim called my cell to tell me my 10 minutes at the cute boy's apartment were up. So I headed back to the bar. Halfway back, I realized I didn't have my purse anymore. So I hit redial, thinking I was calling Dwayne. I called Tim. "Do you have my bag?"

"yea."

Oh....okay. So I didn't go back to Dwayne's. Tim had my purse. But when I got back to the bar, I said, "where is it?"

"Your bag? it's home."

Not my over-night bag, my purse! And then Dwayne wasn't answering his cell, so I couldn't be sure where it was. So I sat outside and called and canceled a couple credit cards until my phone beeped.

It was Dwayne. My purse was on his counter. Such drama that I really could have done without.

I'm of course leaving out the whole J of Baltimore story, which gets interweaved into this one, but that will be for another night, because the J storyline continues through the weekend, all the way to my drive home on Sunday.

So that's Friday. Had a blast at the Bash, loved -- absolutely loved -- seeing so many people that were such a huge part of my life in Baltimore and reconnecting with them. Could have done without the drama and the blurriness of after the Bash, but Dwayne and I did text a little yesterday, so who knows what that will lead to.

Next: the J story, Friday to Sunday; and a movie review of "He's Just Not that Into You"

Baltimore Bound

I'm going to Baltimore tomorrow for the weekend. I'll celebrate Babe Ruth's birthday tomorrow night (an event that I used to organize and run), spend Saturday with Wanda, and Saturday night with Bubbles.

Hopefully it will be a good excuse to relax, let loose, and otherwise forget the events of the past 10 days. I'll try not to think about that I was going to tell Z that I was pregnant. Next time.

Mr. Angelos' Night Before Christmas

For my regular readers, you know that I used to work in Baltimore. One of my former interns posted this on her Facebook page today, and I couldn't resist sharing, even though I know most of you aren't sports fan. And even though I'm a Yankees fan, because I worked so closely with the team and got to know so many of the players, I consider the Orioles my second-favorite team, and root for them every chance I get (as long as they're not playing the Yankees).

'Tis the season, anyway. Enjoy!

PS....Mr. Angelos is the much-maligned owner of the Orioles, who makes really poor decisions and has basically run the franchise into the ground.


Twas the week before Christmas and all through the state
Not an O’s fan was sleeping, they all stayed up late
Their houses had lights and a tree and a crèche
But all they kept doing was hitting “refresh”.

The Yanks got Sabathia, now what could be fairer
Than signing their own home town boy Mark Teixeira
And I, in the warehouse, in my O’s jacket and cap
Was looking for Severna Park on a map

When out in the Yard, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
But I couldn’t see well over the big piles of cash

The moon on the breast of the manicured grass
Gave off ghostly images of stars from the past
There’s Gus Triandos, and Brooksie, and Earl
Frank Robinson, Dempsey, Jim Palmer and Cal

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a stocky ballplayer in St.Michael’s Boy’s gear.
From his pigeon-toed walk, and his face full of youth
I knew in a moment that it was Babe Ruth!

His eyes how they twinkled, (though they were a bit bleary)
His belly was big and his outlook quite cheery.
He had dirt on his jersey, his face held a grin
He looked like he knew just how great he had been

He was looking right at me as he reached into his sack
And pulled out a signed and sealed baseball contract
His said nothing at all, but his eyes, they conveyed
It was time to unmake the mistakes I have made

To rebuild the proud franchise that had so blessed the town
To restore the fine legacy that he’d handed down
That had been such a joy on the shores of the Bay
That had lifted all hearts every opening day

I looked at the contract and saw Teixeira’s name
And others behind it, all signed just the same
Extensions for Roberts and also for Nick
All neatly completed, now that’s quite a trick!

Then, pointing towards center, the Babe started to rise
And flew over the scoreboard and up to the skies
But he turned ‘ere he vanished, and exclaimed as he rose:
Merry Christmas to all… And How Bout Dem O’s!

Colts, Giants.....not what you think

At one point in my career, I could call every play in the final two minutes and 15 seconds of this game. I'm so excited to watch this on Saturday.

Forgive, but don't forget

I hadn't talked to my friend Tim in Baltimore since I was there before my NY trip. Things were definitely strained between us, but there was also a lot of hurt there, but I knew we would get past it. Time does heal all wounds.

I guess too much time had gone by for him to be comfortable, or maybe, he just finally got it. I got the following email earlier this week.

Regarding my words from earlier this summer....there is one more thing I would like to say.... I am very, very, very , VERY, VERY Sorry, Ellie. You have and had been going through a very tough emotional and physical time with things. And things haven't been as any of has hoped for yet. And instead of giving you an arm to support you with, and a shoulder for you to rest your head on, I used words to stir things up. Words that in the end were judgmental, no matter what my intention may have been.

Like most men, when silence was the best solution, I opened mouth and shut off brain. I am soooooo sorry for that. I can't go back in time and just turn off my phone before I ever sent that first message. But like with everything I do, with a little time I try and learn and change things so they are not repeated in the future.

Maybe in time I will start and get things right the first time. I wish I could do more for you, El. I always have. But being a friend is sometimes the best thing for someone to be and do. I hope you can forgive me and see that maybe I am getting it a little. No more words. Just support in whatever way you want and need it.

If you want to share whats going on, I will be receptive without any opinions. I will be supportive. That's what friends do. Anyway, hope you can forgive a broken down gimping cop who is TRYING to be less self centered.

I read it and closed it. A few days later, I took a deep breath and read it again. It's time to move on. I hit the reply button, and caught him up on work, the weather, yes the leaves are already starting to change, had a blast in NY, drank too much, etc. And then...

I appreciate the apology and the insight into how I reacted to what you said. And I have forgiven you. Give me time and I will share with you what's going on and give you updates....I'm just not there yet.

Say hi to the girls...talk to you soon. love, Red

I have forgiven him, but I haven't forgotten his hurtful words, and cannot open myself up to him yet. I can't add him to my emotional roller coaster yet. Someday. Not yet.

Vacation

I'm headed to Baltimore on Saturday morning, spending the afternoon with my opinionated friend Tim, more to see his daughters than him. We'll see if he behaves with his comments or even innocent queries. Either way, the party line will be "nothing new to report."

Then I'm spending the night with my dear friend Wanda. I'm excited to see her kids, too. Danny turned one in January, so it will be fun to see him on the go. And Miranda, at four, is always entertaining to Auntie Ellie.

Sunday, my brother, sister-in-law and niece are coming up from Richmond for the day. This was too short of a trip for me to swing through VA, so they'll come to me. And we'll probably sit at Champps, grazing and watching baseball. Then I head over to Bubbles' place and we'll get ready for our big adventure.

The Big Apple! We're taking a train on Monday morning, spending the night in the theater district, right near Carnegie Hall and have a whole host of sights to see in our two days -- Central Park (our hotel is two blocks away), the New Public Library, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Mickey Mantle's, and of course, no trip to Manhattan would be complete without Tiffany's.

Monday night, we'll go to Yankee Stadium for the Oriole game, and after have drinks with Sidney Ponson, who I knew from his playing days in Baltimore. He was always my go-to guy when I needed an athlete at an event.

I'll be back in Ithaca on Wednesday, and then will jump back into the baby-making process, hopefully knowing when I can talk to the fertility guru.

Happy weekend. Go Yankees!

So apparently he has to have the last word...

I wasn't entirely surprised to get this email back from Tim this morning:

I don't care what the Catholic church says. I am glad that you are good with God, that is the only thing that counts. Its the relationship between you and Him and if you have this desire, then it is coming from Him. Go forward young woman. As far as the scripture- it just happened to be something that I read that day to give you hope and support for.

Cling to Him... not preaching about your situation. He'll give you comfort through the pain and the unknowing til things are what they will be. And I did voice concern a year ago- but I didn't beat it over your head. Nor will I. I always have concern that you are all right and doing ok. That's what close friends and people who care for one another do. And I support you and will help you if you need it. ANYTIME kiddo.

And there you have it. I won't be responding. They are going on vacation this weekend, and I will be in Baltimore the next weekend and will stop by the house to see the girls. It'll be water under the bridge at that point. Hopefully.

It's Absolutely Ridiculous...

but it makes me laugh (and groove a little) every time I hear it. And it makes me smile and think of the good times in Baltimore.

The third time is not the charm

I got up yesterday and went to the hospital lab to get my blood work done. And as I waiting for the tech to draw blood, my heart was pounding. This was it -- this is as close as I've gotten since I started this last August to actually being pregnant. Once the blood was drawn and I had a Scooby-Doo band-aid on my arm, there was nothing more to do. But wait.

I spent the morning at Jill's house, helping her unpack books for her new book shelf. And she got in the mood for the Super Bowl, by watching the history of the Giants on DVD. She was a good sport and we watched the '58 championship game against the Colts (even though the Giants lost that game) and she had me tell her stories about all the Colts as they showed them on screen. It was fun -- it was a quick visit into my old life.

And then as it got past noon, I started to get anxious. "I need to go home." I didn't want to miss the phone call from Jodi. I didn't miss it -- she called about 1:30. "I'm afraid I don't have very good news for you." And so it began again.

I didn't know what to feel, I didn't know what to do. Do I call everyone in my phone book who knew today was the day? Or do I just wait for them to ask? I called the two people I specifically told I would call, and let anyone else who was interested call me. Other than my mom and my neighbor, there were no other calls.

By 6:30, I was feeling sorry for myself, and alone -- no one cares about me. Yes, it was a big of thinking only about myself, but I felt like everyone else was so wrapped up in their lives that they weren't even thinking about me today.

There's so much to think about now. Do I want to go through this again? I'll have to have a stronger dose of the Clomid next month, which will mean more weight gain and more emotions. I don't think this weekend is the time to make this decision. Should I just say fuck it? Should I seriously look into adoption? Do I really want to start someone's new life with their mommy $20,000 in debt with adoption costs?

I had a dream last night. I was holding a baby, my baby. He or she was about 9 months old, I think it was a boy. He said "momma" when I picked him up. I'm still too numb to read anything into the dream, but you know, and I know, that I'm not going to say fuck it. I'm too invested to give up.

Wanda said I just need to keep with my plan, and have the back-up plan if this plan doesn't work. And I told her last night, it never occurred to me that this wouldn't work. Never. Even with the ovarian failure diagnosis, there was always hope. My people have babies, my mom was pregnant 14 times for God's sake -- how could my body not be able to do this?

It just seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on me.

Merry Christmas Weekend!

I don't know how much writing I will do in the next week, so I'd thought I'd jump on quickly. I left Ithaca yesterday, stopped in Baltimore for the night and headed down to Richmond this morning. I've got a fire going in the fireplace, one dog in front of said fire and the other at the end of the recliner, resting his chin on my feet. My brother and sister-in-law should be home before too long -- and then let the festivities begin.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the baby and my options. And I've decided to pursue foster to adopt, as a back-up plan. I'm certainly not ready to give up on having a biological child yet -- I think we (the doctors and me) still have a few more things to try before giving up. By I decided, why not learn all I can and be ready, just in case.

I would hate for it to be August (or whatever random month), and be out of options and then have to start a whole new process from scratch. I got the number of someone to talk at DSS, and will make that phone call after the holidays. While I definitely think this a good idea -- to learn, to find out, to have a back-up plan -- it is something that I need to digest for a little while.

I also found out from a friend at work, who hosts the adoption and foster support group at the College, the names of a few people who have specifically done foster to adopt. They will be a good resource for me, to hear about their experiences so I know a little better what to expect.

Six months ago, when I found out that my eggs might not work, that I may have to go donor eggs or IVF route, I was devastated. I wanted nothing more than to be able to carry a baby. Once that shock had worn off, the real goal was -- and always will be -- just to have a baby. No matter how it will happen.

And so I'm proud of myself for still thinking positively that a viable pregnancy could work, I am also thinking realistically, and having other options makes me think even more that there will be a little baby boy or girl in my future. Not someone who will calls me Auntie Ellie, but someone who will call me mommy.

shout out to Nina -- thanks for the messages, glad to have another reader who comments. Happy holidays. I hope the new baby -- whenever it gets here -- can get a pair of mittens :)

Mixed Reactions

When I was in Baltimore (on my way to Richmond) last month, I stopped to see friends. Part of me was considering asking Tim to be the sperm donor — but was really nervous about asking. It is kind of a personal thing.

Over beers, I told him about my decision. That I was going to be looking into getting pregnant by my next birthday. I was expecting a “that’s great, Red,” or “wow, how exciting.”

Instead, I got, “why would you want to do that on your own? You just need to get your hooks into some guy — you’re just not trying hard enough.”

I was stunned and shocked. Later, after I had time to digest it, it just made me really sad. I tried to make a joke out of it. “So I’m guessing if I need you to be a sperm donor, the answer is no.”

Well, I accomplished what I needed to. I asked about him giving me some baby batter — and got a definitive answer. What was most surprising was his attitude. I know that from some people I will hear things like this. I will get the negative response, when what I really want is positive and supportive. It is something I am going to have to live with, something I will need to develop a thick skin about. And something I will need to come up with a response to. I expect this kind of response from other people — I was completely off guard to hear it from Tim.

My family — I am the youngest of a large brood. Even now, at 37, I am still treated like the baby. I completely feel like they see me as less of an adult because I am unmarried, still single, childless. My niece, with her house, husband, three-year-old and baby on the way, is much more an adult than I am – at least that is how I see their perception of me. Short of marrying the next man I see, I don’t know how to change it. I just live with it.

So, I was pleasantly surprised — more than pleasantly — when I told one of my sisters (previously mentioned niece’s mom) of my plans. I needed to. I needed to know that I would have some family support.

She was excited. Truly excited to hear my news. And she got teary-eyed, and I got teary-eyed — and we hugged, and I told her I was so glad to hear that she was happy, that I didn’t know how much support I would get. She has no idea how much is entailed with that one sentence, but she hugged me tighter. And that one moment more than made up for Tim’s reaction.