Wednesday, feb. 18, 2004 | 0 comments
Jonathan told me recently the best way to foil telemarketers is to just not say anything when they call. If you “hello, hello?” before you hang up, it registers as an active number. But if you sit there, silently, and wait until they hang up, your number gets marked as dead.
When my phone rang at 7:28 this morning, I was deep into one of those womb-like sleeps, hot and wrinkled and sweaty and disoriented and blinking like a hairless baby rat. A ratisimo. Rateensy. I managed to pick up the phone fourth ring and … shhh! I sat there, quietly breathing through my nose, until the person hung up. Five seconds later the phone rang again, and I picked it up, but still … shhhh! The third time, though, the person stayed on for a really long time, so finally I broke down and said it.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello?” I said.
“Evany?” she said.
“Hello?” I said.
“Oh! I was doing the Jonathan thing, the not saying anything so the telemarketers think you’re dead.”
“Oh my god you’re crazy.”
“I am crazy.”
“OK. So, we had a baby last night!”
“WHAT? OH MY GOD!”
“A girl. A pretty baby girl. Eight pounds, four ounces of baby girl.”
“We haven’t decided yet. I think we’re going to take a nap first.”
So there you have it. Congratulations Liz, Ben, and big (but still so little) sister Mae on the bouncing new addition to the family. They also got themselves a sooth-sayer, maybe. Liz’s water never broke this time around and the baby was born with a caul, which is supposed to mean (I’m pretty sure I didn’t make this up) that she has “the sight” and maybe even “the power to heal.” Bonus!
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Thanks for all your kind email about the whole “losing my job” thing. I’m sorry if I haven’t answered your email, or if, god, I’ve answered it TWICE — I’ve been sending out email from three different places these days, and I’ve lost all track of what I’ve said to whom. Anyway. Hi! You’re the greatest … have you been working out? Because it just wouldn’t be fair for you to look so fine without having to put a little sweat into it.
In summary, though: things have been very weird here, in my head, since the big layoff last week. For one, I’m not actually done with work yet. They’re keeping me here until March 5 to “transition the product.” While it’s nice to have been given time to pack things up and finish some projects (because really the whole thing came as a complete surprise and I hadn’t done any of the usual packing and backing up), working in this grey, undead mode has been very odd, and it’s going to last for another two weeks yet.
And then there’s the whole WHAT NEXT!? panic thing, which is already my default approach to life only now it’s been ramped up by a factor of at least ten. But I’ve been trying not to let myself worry about it too much, at least not for a month or so. I’ve never been on employment before, and I’d like to rock that just a bit — buy some stained sweat pants, get a prescription for a daily delivery of fat-stuffed crust pizza, watch the living heehaw out of some cable.
When the worrying starts, as it does, usually at 4:20 in the morning, which is when the meowing starts, I remind myself that it was high, high time for a change. (This April would have been my six year anniversary at Webmonkey, and that’s a lot of years, a half dozen!) Change is good! Change is sexy. Change, I french you.
You know what else helps stem the worrying? DRINKING!
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I cured this year’s case of VD by administering a whole lot of drinks orally. A pod of people come over for boozing and cake-hole-stuffing, and I even moved my bed into the closet so we’d have plenty of room to get running starts at all the alcohol.
My friends are so pretty. And colorful! Like really, the night was an almost freakish riot of oranges and pinks and reds and greens and blues. And flowers! I got flowers.
You know the night is off to a fine start when Liz and Ivan ARRIVE carrying full glasses of champagne.
We played trust exercises all night. Here Matt and Jill play “mirror”.
If I’d sniffed my layoff in the winds, I may not have purchased these very tall and expensive Fluevog boots, but … won’t they be perfect for “the interview”?
A suspiciously cuddly Marbles kept Colleen stapled to the couch for like an hour. (Notice the theme-y pink feather notion strapped to Marbles head. MARBLES LOVES VD!)
Shree glammed up my shitty Ikea cat-scratch chair.
At some point I actually unhinged my jaw to allow more treats and libations to cram their way in. Will and Jill and that fine kitty top helped!
FLOWERS! I got flowers.
more words on: partytime!