World Series Hangover

I stayed up for practically every inning of every Yankees play-off game. I was expecting to feel tired, I wasn't expecting to instantly get sick from the lack of sleep. But there is was the day after the win, a little tickle in my throat. Hurt when I swallowed, that tell-tale sign of post-nasal drip.

The day after it was worse. And for the past three days, my throat has been a combination of pins and needles and fire. I can't do enough to keep it wet and lubricated. I can't even sleep to get away from the pain. It's impossible to keep your throat wet while lying down, eyes closed and searching for REM.

Last night was a five freezey pop night -- as in five times between 11pm and 5am, I got out of bed, walked down the stairs, pulled a freezey pop out of the freezer and climbed the stairs back into bed. I have perfected sleeping for five minutes before needing to bite off another frozen chunk from the plastic tube, without spilling it in my bed.

I went to the doctor this morning. It is not the flu (swine or otherwise), it is not strep (which is where I would have laid good money). It is a sore throat. I managed to convince the doctor that I need to sleep, that is really the best thing for me. And so in her kindness, she wrote out a prescription for cough medicine with codeine. I'm hoping it will a) number my throat and 2) knock me out. Maybe not in that order.

I'm getting the sexy voice, unfortunately it hurts too much to talk to be able to share it with anyone. I carry a water bottle with me at all times. At work today (I actually felt human getting up and showering and going into the office for a few hours), I made the mistake of walking to my in box without my water. Dragon fire in my throat until I could get a drink. It's not pretty.

I'm hoping the good drugs -- and the stopping at McDonald's for a milk shake -- will do the trick. I don't know if I can handle any more days like the past three or four have been.

Vegas Recap, part 2

Once Chris left, I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. Friday night I didn't sleep well -- I think my mind was over-stimulated from everything that is Las Vegas. And Saturday, I was worried about him.

I called Bubbles, a bit teary, and she talked me out of my funk. "You are a fucking rock star. You only get to be in Vegas for a few more hours, make the most of it. Don't let him being a jerk get you down. Don't make his issues yours.

"You are not going to sit in your room for the rest of the day. Go get a fabulous dinner tonight, go to a bar and watch the game, walk around the strip, go gamble some more. Do not call me until you are back in your room, and it better not be until midnight."

She was right. And so while I was waiting for closer to my 40th birthday, I figured it would make a great story to get my new tattoo in Vegas. At Vince Neil's tattoo parlor, no less. I had brought a print out of the picture of my avatar with me, just in case. I guess, this was the just in case moment.

I washed my face, forgot about Chris being a jerk, and headed out into the sunshine. I went into the parlor and like a strong, confident woman, handed over my picture and asked if I could see what the tattoo artist could draw up for me. The girl behind the counter took the picture back to him and said he would have something for me in about 30 minutes.

I said I'd be back, and walked further down the strip. I got a bottle of water and window shopped. Thirty minutes later, I was standing with a John Popper look-alike as he showed me his rendering of my baseball heart. It looked awesome. We talked about where I wanted it, and before I knew it, my shirt was off and I was laying on the table. My 40th birthday tattoo was going on.

No turning back now. Would it have been fun if Chris had been there with me while I got it? Of course, but this could be a defining moment for me. I would make it be.

Tattoo was finished, and after a quick look in the mirror, it was bandaged and I was on my way for next adventure. I walked down to the Bellagio, and watched two fountain shows. I teared up a little – they were more beautiful than I ever imagined.

And the inside of the hotel is just as amazing. Blown glass ceiling, atrium, fancy shops, marble columns. I want a boy to take me there, and even if we can’t afford to stay there, he can simply feel me up behind a pillar. It has become the American version of my Bridge of Sighs romantic fantasy.

It was getting close to game time, so I headed back towards my hotel. I saw Elvis along the way and got my picture taken with him. How could I be in Las Vegas and not get my picture taken with Elvis? I found a micro-brewery bar inside the hotel and sat down before the end of the first inning.

Beer in hand, baseball in front of me, and Chris being a jerk was long forgotten. By the middle of the fourth, I was getting hungry and headed over to the Burger Joint for another beer and a burger. I thought about going back into the casino after dinner, but all of the smoking (thank you smoke-free NY) was getting to me and my head was congested.

I figured I had turned things around enough that six or seven hours of fabulous single girl time in Vegas was good enough. I filled the bathroom with steam to clear my head, washed up as best I could without getting the bandage on my back wet and hunkered down for the rest of the game.

Vegas was fun and I can’t wait to go back, but I think next time I really will go with Bubbles.

What happens in Vegas....

probably should stay in Vegas. But I will update this and the other blog in the next few days.

One of the highlights of the trip...my new tat (look it's my avatar from this blog!)

The Week in Review and the Week Ahead

It seemed like a really long week and that the weekend would never get here. I was almost glad that I didn't have to fit in an E trip. I don't know if I updated that he had called me the previous week to tell me he had something come up at the Worldwide Leader and had to work on Monday.

As disappointed as I was that I wouldn't get to see him, I was actually relieved. It would have been doable, but it probably would have been one thing too much. And so that night we chatted, me in my bed, him in his, instead of us together. One of these days, we'll make it work.

Once I made my phone call to Baltimore, I was able to think about (and worry about) my upcoming interview. I have the schedule and now know that I have to give a 10-15 minutes presentation, to which the entire division has been invited.

Earlier this week, it was keeping me awake. I just didn't know how to start it. And I kept saying, I need to have it done before the weekend. As I wrote down random thoughts and talked to my friends at work, I started to feel more comfortable about it. It's not done before the weekend, but it's pretty close.

And so then I can start to plan for the other big thing this week. Vegas! I have what I'm wearing pretty set in my head. I bought all airline-approved sized bottles for my carry-on. And Chris and I are both getting really excited.

So for the rest of the weekend.....finishing my presentation, packing, manicure/pedicure, clean the house.

And the week.....three days of work, three days of gym (maybe four), interview from 10:30 to 4:00 on Thursday, and then Vegas on Friday.

Vegas, baby!

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.

I Applaud Red Sox Nation

Yea, even me.

Winding Down

My follicles are slow-growing, but everyone at the FG's office is so great. "It's okay, slow and steady wins the race." It made me feel better when even I could tell on the ultrasound that there was little change from Wednesday to Friday. But there are seven, so I'll take that as a good sign.

The baseball game last night was great. And at one point, I realized that I had been so into the game and keeping score and enjoying my friends, that I had actually not thought about the baby project for like four or five innings. Amazing.

Today my sister, niece and nephews came to visit. It was so much fun. We went to Buttermilk Falls, had a picnic of Subway and McDonald's and then played on the playground for an hour. Once they left, I had a marathon of laundry-washing, grocery shopping, and banking -- and home in time for the Yankees-Phillies game.

Laundry put away, fruit and veggies cut up and in the fridge, sheets changed. Tomorrow, clean and steam the rugs, mop the floors and take a nap. :)

And it was all about baseball....

I had a fabulous time in Cooperstown, walking leisurely through the museum, reading label copy. There were lots of old people there. And there is nothing better than hearing old men talk about baseball. They saw it, they were around when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier, some remember Babe Ruth's barnstorming days.

I saw my favorite exhibit, of any museum I've ever been in. It's simple. It's effective. It stands the test of time.


(Ted Williams' strike zone and his batting average based on pitch location)

I thought about E on the drive there (dirty thoughts, all). It helped pass the time. Whoever was responsible did a really poor job building this state. In two hours and 10 minutes, I went from the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere, and passed through nothing but open fields, cows and trailer parks.

After the museum, I had lunch at the pizzeria. Cooperstown is actually small enough that I can say "the pizzeria" and be specifically talking about only one place. they have the best NY-style pizza. I always eat there when I'm in the Holy Land. I got a cookie from the bakery for my ride home, and then headed north and west.

And then as I was driving home, I got a text from J. "Hey, so give me an update."

I texted him back. "driving call me"

Two minutes later, his ring. He figured that I would have had a blood test in the past week (even my mother couldn't figure that out) and wanted to know what was up. I told him I had gotten a negative test, and that I had one IVF left before my fertility insurance ran out.

"I'm sorry babe."

And I told him that I had actually been thinking about emailing him, that I needed to put a bug in his ear that if the next IVF doesn't work out, my friends will be putting a raffle together to help with the adoption costs. "A Carmelo ball would do really well up here..."

"Of course, babe, anything you need. Just let me know and I'll get you some stuff."

We talked basketball play-offs, more baby stuff. It was friendly, professional, and not at all inappropriate. Of course, he's heading up to Jersey tomorrow to visit his brother. It was hard to tell if it's a solo trip or not. I'm guessing if it is, I'll be getting a phone call in the next few nights. Which I will ignore.

Kind of ironic, that he called today. If my original plans had worked out, I would have been freshly showered, in a bathrobe, sipping wine, sitting on a bed in a hotel, waiting for E when he called. I know that I wouldn't have rubbed that in his face, but it would have been nice to have that option.

Change of Plans

I got four beeps at lunch. "hey gorgeous..."

And then, "can you call me about 430?"

That couldn't be good. I figured he was canceling, but on the bright side, if he was canceling, at least he was calling. Not doing it over text (a very J move, if he texted at all).

I called him and yes, he was canceling. He has his kids unexpectedly from tonight through Sunday. "But is there an airport in Ithaca? It might just be easier if I flew you here. Then neither of us has to drive."

So I looked up flights and prices -- less than $200. "Let's talk tomorrow and set up a date. I really wanted to see you, and I don't want to cancel without setting something else up."

How very adult. Of course this is the way a man is supposed to handle this. Shit happens, things come up. And so, while I'm pretty disappointed that I don't get my consolation prize after my negative test, I have no doubt that he'll make it up to me when we see each other.

I'm still taking the day off. I'm going to the Mother Land (Cooperstown) for a trip to the Hall of Fame. It'll be a nice day to myself, away from the office, away from home, away from DSS and fertility treatments. It'll be about nothing but baseball.

I'm a baseball nerd, I admit it

I went out to dinner with a friend tonight, and as we were walking through the Commons, I saw a chalkboard in front of the burrito place.

TRIVIA: What year did Babe Ruth hit his 714th home run?

"I know that." And it excited me in a way that only talking about baseball excites me.

I walked in and said, "1935."

The guy at the counter looked confused, until I pointed to the sign. "The trivia question...1935."

A girl from the back came out and said, "You're right, you win chips and salsa."

"Oh I don't need that, I just wanted to make sure I was right. And I think the exact date was May 25."

"Yea that's right."

I walked back out to my friend. "I was right, and he actually hit 712, 713 and 714 that day. In Pittsburgh. And then retired a week later."

"How do you remember this shit?"

"It was my job."

Yup, I'm a nerd, but I know my George stats. ;)

I'm a Yankees Fan but....

this is fucking hysterical. And worth sharing...

Mind Clutter

This will probably be long and rambling, with lots of things. My mind is racing lately, and for the first time in several weeks, my old friend insomnia visited last night. I'm hoping if I can get this all out here, it won't be on my mind later and I will actually be able to sleep.

Baby-Making Update
I think I'm in the middle of a normal cycle. I had awful ovulation pain yesterday, all the way through to my back. And today, I could have killed for chocolate. I will take all of that as a good sign, and after looking at the calendar and counting, all signs are pointing for my lady times to start about April 1, and the things I've been feeling the past few days are all consistent with where I should be in the month.

Which leads me to the other issue I'm having. For the first time in 18 months, I have no additional hormones in my body. And as much as I could have killed for chocolate today, kick it up a notch, and that's the way I'm feeling about sex. I need it. So bad, that I'm trying to figure out if I can't get it locally, who can I call and how far is too far to drive for a hook-up?

J is useless. Charlie is in Arizona until the weekend before Opening Day. I don't think E is a viable option. Chris is in California, though he may be home next week. I texted him last night, still waiting to hear from him. I'll keep you posted on the developments.

The Return of the PR Goddess
I've not said anything about the whole A-Rod and steroids thing, mostly because I don't think most of my readers are sports fans. But on the off chance that Woodrow is reading me, or some of you quieter folks will know what I'm talking about, or just for Bubbles who absolutely will know what I'm talking about, indulge me for a moment. I can't let this new Details magazine thing go by without saying something.

Supposedly he is paying some huge PR firm millions of dollars to handle his image. They were by his side for the Peter Gammons interview, they were prepping him for his press conference his first day at spring training, and who knows where they were when he thought it was a good idea to pose for these pictures and sit down for this interview.

When I was in Baltimore, I handled a few big public relations situations. Nothing to the magnitude of the A-Rod situation but to name a few -- a murder on the steps of the museum at 4am, calling out Barry Bonds to the national media for comments he made about Babe Ruth, executing a flawless Baltimore Colts reunion a month after Johnny Unitas died and not having it turn into the sequel of his funeral.

And so with that experience in mind, here is my quick list of advice for Alex Rodriguez:

* Stop doing interviews, stop posing for pictures. Your job over the next 12 weeks is to rehab your hip. In the process, we may be able to rehab your image.
* Stop dating publicly. Be more discreet in your public life. You can get laid in the privacy of your own home. No one needs to see you with bimbos at the bar or Madonna at the Kaballah Center.
* Spend quality time with your daughters. Take the older one to school. Pick her up. Read to both of them. You don't need cameras around for that. This is about you being a good father.
* Set up visits with groups at Boys & Girls Clubs, high school teams that are susceptible to steroid and drug use. Talk to them, honestly, about why you did what you did, what you hoped to gain and why, in retrospect it was a horrible idea. Don't give them cliqued lines. Don't say what you think people want to hear. Again, no cameras. This is about doing the right thing.
* Work with the Taylor Hooton Foundation as you promised you would in your press conference. Give money, make appearances that will benefit the foundation, create PSAs. Don't put out press releases about you doing this. This is about you being a good person.
* Reach out to your teammates, and don't expect anything in return. Think more about the team and less about your image, your numbers, your stats and yourself.
* When you return to the team in May or June, be humble. Be thankful for where you are and the talent you have. Thank your teammates for a good game pitched, for the key hit in the 7th inning.
* And when it is time to face the media, think before you speak. Think about what you want to say, and say it in 10 words, not 50.

Everyone's Pregnant
Well, not everyone. It just feels like it. And really, the only one that bothers me, is my niece.

My friend Melissa is pregnant. I've known since she took her HPT, because at that point, I was pregnant too. I was two weeks ahead of her. We joked about all the work that would pile up with both of us out on maternity leave at the same time. And yet, even though we won't be pregnant together, I'm so happy for her. Because she's been supportive, because she's been sensitive, and because I know she wants this for me as much as I do.

My friend Chris's wife is pregnant. And I'll be helping to plan the baby shower we have at work for him. He doesn't know what I'm doing, but if he did, he would be supportive and sensitive. Because he would let me know he's pulling for me.

My friend Lindsey is pregnant. I saw her on Sunday at the mall. And she told me, straight out. "I'm pregnant, and I've been wondering how to tell you and I just figured that I would just say it." And then she started to cry and she hugged me, and I cried. "I'm happy for you, I really am." And she knew I was. And she said she can't wait to be happy for me, because I deserve it.

And then there is Erica. My niece, whose baby shower next month, I won't be going to. Who called me the day after Thanksgiving to tell me she was pregnant, amazingly without even trying, and I've never even congratulated her. Not by phone, mail or email. And that's not me. I still send cards for no reason. I send cards for birthdays and as thank you notes. For new homes and new jobs, and especially for new babies.

But this time I couldn't, for all the reasons that I've spelled out in the past. And what amazes me is that it hasn't occurred to her that I haven't congratulated her. (My family works in such a way that I would have found out about it, I would have heard.) And the thing is, I really am happy for her. I'm excited for her to have this baby. I'm not happy about the way she told me, and at this point, I can't forgive that.

So maybe I'm bitter. Maybe I'm being overly-sensitive, but given that I'll be planning or attending at least three baby showers in the next six months and will be genuinely happy for the guests of honor, I don't think I am. I think what I'm doing is taking care of myself, and not putting myself in situations that I don't need to be in. What I need to work on is letting go of my anger towards Erica. And I will, but my emotions are still too raw.

Bubbles Puts it All in Perspective

"How in god's name can you feel like you are unwanted. You fucked a Yankee!!! He came to the bar....he showed up. He wanted to see you and he made it happen!
UM HELLO...What do you and and MA freakin DONNA have in common!! Fucking Yankees!!!"

And regarding J, she reminded me of yet another lesson we learned when we saw He's Just Not That Into You. "If he wanted to see you, he would make it happen. He would figure the work thing out. If he really wanted this to happen, he would. It's not going to happen."

So harsh, but so true.

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!

My Yankee

I got another call from my Yankee last night. He woke me up about 12:30am with a text.

"whats up"

Are you kidding me? "not much. how about you?"

"nada. just chilling"

It could have been a drunk dial but doubtful. They played a 7:05 game, I went to sleep about 9:15, and he was out of the game, but I don't think he would have left the Stadium. Unless he drank hard and fast after his most recent pitiful performance.

"me too. laying in bed, watching SNL."

"were you at the game today" He doesn't, at most people who have never lived in the upper part of New York state, understand the geography of the Empire State. NYC is a good six hours from where I live. I was closer to NYC when I lived in Baltimore. But now was not the time to get into it.

"no...probably won't make it to any more games this year"

"ok going to sleep"

But I didn't get that text until this morning. I think he sent it immediately after the one about being at the game, and I didn't notice that there was another in my in box.

I'm not sure what he wants. I'm happy to be an outlet for the drunk dial or even the phone booty call. But he needs to work with me a little more.

Maybe he's shy.

(Let's all laugh at that as we remember the very brief -- and very not shy -- conversation in the bar two months ago:
"Derek wanted to come but I told him I wanted you all to myself."
"Don't fuck with me."
"Oh I will fuck you later.")

OK, so he's not shy. Even so, as I did when I worked in Baltimore, when I had to deal with professional athletes on a regular basis, I made it easy for him.

"I missed your last text--must have fallen asleep. Next time tell you're in bed. I can talk you through some fun things."

Nancy thinks it's almost time to give him his own special ring, like J has. Soon, I think he needs to earn it still.

PS...on a somewhat related note, how fucking cool is that Derek Jeter needed nine hits going into this homestand to tie Lou Gehrig for most hits at Yankee Stadium -- AND he got all nine of them this weekend in three games!? Even Mr. Team Player was in awe of what that really means.

When it's 1am on the west coast...

Monday morning I was awakened at 4:07am with a cell phone beep, the tell-tale sign of a text message (and not from J, because he has his own alert sound).

I picked up the phone and looked, expecting to see a wrong number or Verizon telling me my bill is now available on-line. Instead, it was from my Yankee. "whats up"

My wheels turned quickly, thinking of a good response and also analyzing the situation. The Yankees lost in Seattle and then headed to Anaheim. It's 1am. Bars are still open. And he's thinking of me?!

How fucking cool is that!

I was still groggy and not exactly sure what he wanted. Was this a drunk dial? Or a phone sex booty call? I played it safe and threw it back at him.

"you pitched well the other day. how are you?

"thanks...i'm good. whats up"

Hmmmm....he didn't give me a lot. "work, gym, not enough sex"

"same here"

Not exactly the playful response I was hoping for. Maybe there's a language barrier on the texting. I tried one more time. "too bad we're on different coasts...we could help each other out with that last one"

And then no response. I figured he got a better, in-person offer. Or passed out. Knowing him, either is totally possible.

As for me, it was not 4:30am, and I was wide awake. I watched two episodes of Little House on the Prairie (thank you TV Land) and was out the door by 6:45am.

It was a long day.

This is why I love Bubbles

I had a dream last night that I married Derek Jeter. (I fell asleep to the game, which was late because they are on the west coast.)

Anyway, we were doing pictures after the wedding, and it was winter (we couldn't get married in summer!) and I was cold because my dress was strapless, and we were waiting for the photographer to set up.

He took his tux jacket off and put it over my shoulders, and I was leaning forward into his chest, with my arms scrunched up against his chest. He kissed my forehead and the photographer caught it.

And Bubbles said, "that's the photo we'll release to the media."

Ever the good bride's maid thinking like a media relations professional. :) (I did teach her everything she knows.)

It wasn't a W

But I'm totally taking credit for 7 innings, 0 runs, 2 hits, 1 K,and 4 BB against the best team in baseball.

Big Apple, defined

Bubbles and I arrived in NYC about 10am and were able to check into the hotel. We did and immediately headed out to the Park. We had a walking tour map that I had printed off the internet and also got one from a cute little old man in a Central Park Conservatory booth. Neither were very helpful as they didn't seem to scale, no paths were marked, either on the map or in real life.



We wandered in what seemed like the right direction for our first stop -- Strawberry Fields. We walked up, over and around it, and finally found it. From there, we have a point of reference and the map reading was much, much easier. We saw the Alice in Wonderland statue, the Hans Christian Anderson statue, the Belvedere Fountain, and lots of amazing views of the city, including the rocks that Charlotte and harry sat on for their engagement pictures (Sex and the City reference).

It was hot and sunny, and even though I was sweating like a stuck pig, it was amazing. We headed back to the hotel for quick showers before headed to the Bronx.

Out trip to Yankee Stadium started out so cool, because we had to pick up our tickets from the will call window that was labeled "visiting team player tickets." We felt like rock stars! There was a bit of a delay and finally we got called to the end window. Apparently Bubbles' credit card number got written down wrong and it didn't go through so they had to release our original tickets. "But not to worry, we have tickets for you."

We made our way inside, were bummed that Monument Park was already closed, and then headed back to home plate to find our seats. I was a little nervous that the face value was $75 (I had seen the price of tickets for this season.) I worried over nothing. We were directly behind home plate. About 30 rows back....and directly behind home plate.



It was amazing. And with a view like that, I had no problem paying $9.50 per beer. I sent texts taunting my friends. "3rd inning, 3rd beer."

The game wasn't the greatest. But Bubbles was having so much fun singing "Orioles Magic," spelling O-R-I-O-L-E-S, and singing "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" during the 7th inning stretch that I didn't mind terribly that the Yankees got pounded.

After the game, we met out with one of the Yankees players who used to be with the Orioles. (Who knew that fan mail saying "hi remember me, we used to know each other when I worked at the Museum in Baltimore, want to meet out for drinks?" would work?!)

We met him after the game, and he looked so hot. So all previous convictions I had ("he's not hitting this") went right out the window when he walked into the bar and hugged me. Who was I kidding? None of my friends believed me, anyway -- they just humored me.

We did shots, we drank beer, we talked dirty. At one point Bubbles and I did a little smooching for him (why are guys so easy with that little trick?). And then poor Bubbles got sick. She was hugging the toilet and finally, we got into a cab, and my Yankee was about 20 minutes behind us.

At the hotel, she made herself a little bed of towels on the bathroom floor when my Yankee showed up. God bless her -- what a good friend. I'm not going into details, ya'll can draw your own pictures, but if he wins in his next start, I'm taking credit.

And the question everyone keeps asking -- "could you be pregnant?" With my little dried up eggs, I doubt it. But I'll keep you posted next month.

Back from the Big Apple

Things I learned:

1. I'm too old to drink like I used to, especially after not drinking more than one beer at any given time, and maybe that happened once or twice in the past baby-attempt year.

2. I'm too old to do shots, especially when tequila is involved.

3. Jagermeister after tequila is never a good idea.


And for the life list:

Professional baseball player, check!

More details after a nap.