Revelations

An evening with Bill and Chick this week included him using the "L-word" in her direction. When she left the room I commented on it. "Yeah, that happened a while ago. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"I'm not surprised," I simply replied.

"Oh, why not? Because we're so close?"

"I wouldn't call it 'close'. You're just schmoopy and all over each other." While those are true statements, that's not how I knew.

The next night Bill and I were at my new house putting up tape in preparation of painting. "You know how you asked last night why I wasn't surprised you tell Chick you love her? I knew when you dropped your bike. You called her, and I found out when I got home."

"Really?"

"Yup, I knew then."

"I called her first? Did that bother you?"

"You didn't even call me," I said with a sad smile. "And, yes, it bothered me a bit. But I didn't bring it up to make you feel bad and apologize. I just thought you should know when I knew."

Much later, back at home, we were headed to bed when he stopped me, said "Come here, I want to give you a hug." I turned (we hug good night nearly every night, but it was interesting that he insisted). As we embraced he said, "You're still my best friend in the world. You know that, right?" Then he pulled back a little, looked down at me, "I mean it. That hasn't changed." Then pulled me back in for a longer hug.

I know that hasn't changed, but our relationship has.

Plus One

A friend is putting together dinner plans for the evening. The Romanian is still in town, so I invited him. When the email invite went around I replied, "in +1".

It feels very strange to have my +1 not be Bill.

I Was Right

8 pm. Sunday night. I called Mumsy (as I do pretty much every Sunday).

"Where have you been all day?" she demanded.

"Why do you assume I've been somewhere?"

"Riding your bike."

"Why do you assume I've been out?" I tried to dodge the question.

"You have been, haven't you."

"Yup."

"Ok. Well, I'm on the other line to your brother, so I have to go. I'll call you back later."

We signed off. But, because I was driving, I didn't hang up the phone and let her disconnect the line. Before she did I heard her say to my brother, "I was right..."

Later, when we were chatting, Mumsy said that she had told my brother when I called that I had probably been out riding my bike all day. He thought this was funny, since I refused to learn to ride as a kid, and now, I'm a huge cycling nut.

Yes, Seattle has changed me. But, for the better, mostly, I hope.

First Ride of the Season

Yesterday was the first real training ride of the season. 25 miles in 2 1/2 hours. Yes, that is a supernally unimpressive speed. The point wasn't speed or distance, it was saddle time.

You know why?

Because my lady-bits are raw from that short jaunt. That's why.

How am I going to ride 200 miles, if 25 makes me uncomfortable?

The good news? I felt much better this morning, and even took my bike out for a quick errand this evening.

It's Not Maternal

Bill hurt his shoulder pretty badly today (he's not sure exactly what he did, but he's in a lot of pain). When he came home from the gym he wasn't moving his arm and he had some topical pain cream as well as some pain killers. I sat him down, gave him an ice pack, helped him open the ibuprofen, and then rubbed the ointment on his arm.

"Thanks for helping me with this, Granola," he managed through pain clenched teeth, "you're going to make a great mom someday."

Carrie

Sunday night I noticed that some meat Bill had purchased and stored, uncooked, in his drawer in the fridge had gotten quite bloody. He had purchased two large cuts of meat, one in his drawer, and another he had stashed on top of a shelf in the main compartment of the refrigerator.

I asked him to please take care of it because, honestly, it was gross.

Monday evening I came home, made dinner, and reached under the second flat of raw meat to grab my orange juice.

At that moment the bag that was damming back the flood of blood slipped and blood poured, splashed, and tumbled out of the bag, and down the entirety of the fridge, a la Carrie.

It was disgusting. Horrible. And quite aggravating.

Also, I was pissed.



My only action was to clean the refrigerator.

My roommate came down moments after the shower of blood, and asked me what was going on. I was too upset to be polite, so I sent her off to the gym and got down to business. I emptied out the fridge and scrubbed it down with vinegar water.

When Bill came home I had just finished cleaning and reassembling the fridge. I ran into him as I was taking the last of the trash out. "Hey, I'm going to take care of the meat in the fridge," he greeted. Clearly, he could tell I was upset, so he headed upstairs and when I joined him in the kitchen to finish cleaning he asked me what he could do to help me clean.

I was so upset, but logically, it was hard to remain mad—he could tell I was upset, and headed to address the concern straight away. And, honestly, I asked him to take care of it, and the very next day he was going to.

Emotions won out.

Lost!

We have a colleague visiting from Romania this week. Since he's the only one, I asked him Friday night if he had plans. He didn't, so I told him that Bill was going to go rock climbing, and I'm sure he could go if he wanted to. He said, "if you're not going, I'm not going." Well, I couldn't let him sit home alone, so I told him that I wasn't sure what I was doing, but he was welcome to join us.

We ended up going to some pub for dinner to celebrate someone's promotion. We had had an energetic evening and I was feeling a bit loopy. Afterwords I was going to give my coworker a ride home, but he disappeared. One of my friends pointed down the street, "I think he went that way."

Worried, I headed in the direction she indicated looking for him. The entire time repeating over and over, "I lost the Romanian!!"

In the end, I figured since he walked to dinner he probably was able to find his way back to the hotel. He did. But, really, how does one lose a Romanian?!

All Dressed Up

Today was to be day 1 of our STP training rides. Teach and MrTeach had to go out of town last minute, so they wouldn't be there. I hadn't seen any emails about it all week, but figured we'd still go.

On my way home from church I sent an email to the group to confirm. Then I sent a text to Cyclist to ask if he was still planning on it. Assuming we were still on, I got onto my bike gear and was putting my bike rack on the car. Just as I was about to head out he replied—they thought everyone (not sure who 'they' and 'everyone' are, but ok) backed out, so they went early.

I'm really disappointed and bummed. It's a beautiful day for a bike ride, but it's hard to go by yourself.

Instead, I tuned up my other bike—it still needs a ton of work before it's ride-able.

Snoop

20% of couples in committed relationships admit that they snoop in their partner's email or text messages.

Or is it 36%? Or 45?

The number keeps getting bigger and bigger, suggesting that more and more people are snooping. And, somehow, that makes it ok.

Growing up, Mumsy always maintained that we had no right to privacy, but our privacy was still important to her. I don't know if she ever violated my privacy, but I always knew she would if she felt she needed to.

Now, as an adult, privacy is a huge issue for me. I've never wanted to know my boyfriends' passwords, or pin numbers. Once ExOfNote told me his—I think as an effort to show me how much he trusted me. I didn't even try to remember it. I also didn't tell him mine.

Bill and I occasionally look over the other's shoulder when we're typing in our phone pins, and even guess at the other person's pin. But, as soon it's guessed, we change it. At one point Bill knew my pin and I left it for a week or so before changing it. Not because I don't trust him, but because locks keep honest people honest.

One night recently Bill left his phone unlocked, and his text messages to Chick open when he left the room. I scrolled through his messages. I'm not convinced that what I did was right, but, was it unexpected?

The thing about snooping is that you often learn things you wish you hadn't, or, if you discover nothing you become more suspicious. If you can't handle what you find (or may find) don't snoop.

But, what does all of this have to do with me? The fact that I wouldn't dream of snooping in our roommate's stuff combined with my earlier actions puts me in an interesting mental exercise—yes, Bill and I are close, and yes, we fill many emotional needs for each other, but, we're not in a committed relationship. Or, are we?

Grown Up

After a 9 month (this time) search, I have finally made and had accepted, an offer on a house. I have combed Seattle from one end to the other looking for an amazing contemporary home with spectacular windows and bamboo flooring. What I ended up with is a spectacular traditional home with lovely windows, a fabulous kitchen, and wainscoting.

It is the antithesis of what I was looking for, but it is great.

After I walked through it the first time I knew it was too good to pass up, and I would be very foolish to not make an offer.

In the end, they accepted an offer of $430k, which is down from the original list price of $660k. Yes, I made out like a bandit.

These next three weeks are going to be super crazy and busy as I sign documents, paint, and move it. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself!

Logic

I interviewed with another team within my company last week. I've worked with the lead coordinating our teams' efforts for the past three years and think the world of him. The prospect of working for him was just too wonderful to pass up.

He was equally excited, to the point of asking his director to realign some roles so I would have a place on the team.

We had a number of long conversations about the team, and my current team, and why I'm looking to change. I cited my increasing frustration with lack of consistent management in addition to the feeling that it's very hard to get promoted in my current organization.

Interviews went well—only two little hiccups, which I think I recovered from quite well. And he and I scheduled a meeting to talk about how things went.

In the end he told me, "It's not going to work out, but not for the reasons you think." He went on to tell me that I did great, and my code was wonderful, and I really knocked his socks off with at least two solutions. But, "and, this is something I'm keeping quiet for now, I'm leaving the company next month, and then, you'd be right back where you are—with minimal management, and I'd hate to do you that disservice."

Argh! It's like being dumped because the person you're with thinks they don't deserve you. Possibly true, bit I'd rather do the rejecting, thankyouverymuch.

Trying So Hard

It's Bill's birthday this month and our friends and I are plotting an awesome activity. We've kind of settled on Whirlyball which, frankly, sounds awesome!

I decided that, though she hasn't met any of them, it would be a good idea (and gesture) to invite (Bill's) Chick. Last night we were all sitting in the living room when Bill took a call and left the room. She and I sat in silence watching the movie, then I realized my opportunity had presented itself. "Hey, Chick?" I started, "A group of us are planning on taking Bill to play whirlyball for his birthday next Saturday, wanna come?"

Understandably, she asked, "What the hell is whirlyball?" After my brief description she replied in disgust, "That sounds like a terrible idea!!"

"No, see, it's on an enclosed track..."

"Have you seen the way people in Seattle drive?" again, with the horror and disgust.

Irritated with her juvenile reaction I decided to skip the convincing and went straight for, "Yup. So, we're talking about next Saturday. We haven't finalized the time, yet, but I can let you know when we do, and you can come if you want."

Some discussion on her work schedule ensued. She gave me her phone number, and incentive to make sure the only time that works is when she can't make it.

I'm trying, dammit, why is she making it so hard?