Shades of Bridget Jones

On Saturday, I felt a bit like dear Bridget when the neighborhood women and I gathered to ooh and ahh over the newest baby on the street. Cameron's mom got married in her late 30s after a marathon of internet dating, and then needed fertility intervention to have her two kids. The other women, moms all, got married very young and had less than no trouble getting pregnant (more like trouble preventing their pregnancies).

The Young Moms swooned over the baby. Then they started joking about how their ovaries hurt, and speculating on the baby boom that Cameron's arrival would trigger in the neighborhood. Because, you see, everyone can have babies, right? Why, certainly, no one in that very room has had trouble getting pregnant, right? Definitely not half the women in the room at that very moment, RIGHT?!?!

On the verge of tears, I got up to leave. Cameron's mom saw the look on my face and quickly tried to change the subject to something more encouraging and less... insensitive.

"Maggie, I meant to tell you! Remember my friend Camille, the one who had her son by insemination? She's engaged!"

Apparently this friend of hers, who had a child on her own three years ago when she was 39, has been swept up in a whirlwind romance with a 35-year-old she met through work. He loves her, he loves her son, the son is already calling him "Dad," and they're getting married in May.

At which point the traditionally more cluelessly insulting (truly, I don't think she means to be hurtful, I think she's just an idiot) Young Mom chimed in:
"Ooh, it's like some urban myth from Sex and the City; you always hear about women who get married in their 30s but you know they don't really exist. But now you actually know one, so maybe there is hope after all!"

I left. Cam's mom left with me, and let me have a good cry on the sidewalk before I went home. Seriously, it's like a scene from Bridget Jones, where the Smug Marrieds treat us like a different species or something.

Maybe I need more "Sex and the City" after all, and less Bridget. Certainly New York Magazine thinks this is a fine time for Singletons in New York.

Hmm, and George wants to see a movie tonight, how interesting....

(Also, the Captain checked in on me last night, but that has nothing whatsoever to do with marriage and babies, in any order.)

Raptors on Hoverboards

Oh, yeah, that's my hometown, baybee. I don't get the reference, but it just seems to make sense anyway.

I know a lot of you have been worried about me because there's been radio silence on this here board for several weeks. And I won't lie to you, it's been a shitty time. My ex turned out to be a Jekyll and Hyde asshole, who had been lying to me for the better part of 2008. And G doesn't exactly want to marry me quite as much as I do him. Happy Holidays, indeed.

But in rough times, your true friends are there for you, being awesome. And I have to say, I've been blessed with some very very supportive folks who have taken excellent care of me -- lending an ear as I go on and on, taking me out to entertain and distract me, giving me a port in the storm to escape to, or just rocking out. Big hugs and love to Jay, Trilby, Lynn, Tussy, Andrew, Jane, Denise, Josh, Jess, Jonathan, Margaret, Michael, Jason, Kendra, Ellie, Rodger, Isabel, Amanda, Brian, Ian, Zanne, Ron, Carlos, Pierrette, David, Simona, and my folks. I don't know how I would have kept my head above water without you all. But I do know that would never even be something to worry about, because I'll always have you close to my heart.

I'm off to New Haven this week, to ring in a well-deserved new year with old friends, in fine fashion and with many bubbles. I wish you all the best, and I look forward to catching up more soon.

Welcome to the Monkey House!

Create your own family sticker graphic at pYzam.com

Thanks much, Killer Mango!

Cupcake Crime

Last night around 2 am, we were distracted from our epic Somerville Showdown thumb war by the sound of breaking glass. When the noise stopped after a couple of crashes, we figured someone had thrown a beer bottle or two, and so returned to the business at hand (or thumb).

Tinkling and shattering sounds resumed less than a minute later, and we worried that someone might be trying to break into Ann's car, parked on the street below. Ann dashed downstairs just in time to see someone running away from Kickass Cupcakes, carrying their cash register. She described a white man of average build, wearing a white cap, light-colored clothing and long shorts. Somerville's Finest were on the scene within seconds. One pursued the robber down Highland Avenue in the direction Ann indicated, the other contacted Kickass's owners.

Who could be so cruel to cupcakes? Stores rarely keep any significant money in a register overnight, so the haul was hardly worth the effort of lugging the cash register away.

By 2:30 the repair crew was already at work, clearing away the broken glass and patching the hole with plywood. Pumped up from all the drama, we escalated our tourney to full-on arm-wrestling.