My thoughts on being a “Work Wife”

Good news! I’m married!

Did I shock you there? No? Okay. Moving on.

Someone, please please please tell me that I’m not the only one this has happened to. I’ve heard the term before, of course, but until I used the mighty resources of The Almighty Google, I had no idea just how common this was. Googling the term brings up not only the expected Wikipedia article, but tons of personal essays and blogging rants. Some of them are absolutely hilarious. You want to see some very angry women? Google “work wives” and read some of the top hits. (I’m aware this may be offensive to some people, but it takes very little to offend me. So read on with a grain of salt).

I didn’t become aware that I was a “work wife” until late last week. We’re going through a huge merger at my office, and things have become tense this month (to say the least). People taking sides, people stealing offices and hating new bosses and trash talking everyone they can. And because we have a relatively small company – and workspace – shiz has been hitting the fan, big time.

But I know that someone always has my back – and that’s Jake, who, for the sake of argument, I’m going to call my work husband. Jake and I are relatively close in age and work in close proximity on an almost daily basis. I do work for a lot of different divisions within our company and Jake is the director of one of those divisions. He has a live-in girlfriend, Katie, who is absolutely awesome. She’s one of those people who you might be really, really good friends with if you had the chance, you know? Jake and I get along famously, but it wasn’t until last week that I had this epiphany. Here’s the evidence of my position as a “work wife:”

Example A: Jake will call me anytime between 7 and 530 with questions like, “can you stick up for me in the meeting tomorrow? I can’t be there.” Which I always do. Given, of course, that he’s right. And if he’s not, I let him know.

Example B: Jake brought me muffins, freshly baked by his girlfriend, when I was having a shitty week. (They were delicious) It’s become sort of a running joke. Oh, you want me to do that write-up for you? It’ll cost two muffins.

Example C: Jake and I are going to San Diego in February for a business conference. Jake’s girlfriend, Katie, is surprisingly okay with this, and told him off for not signing me up months ago.

Example D: I expect Jake to be available for personal venting moments between the hours of 7 and 530 every week day. And he always is. The same goes for when he needs to vent, or needs to be “talked down.”

Example E: Jake and I hate the same people.

Honestly, the last might be the most important of these. It’s sort of how working with my brother would be, I think. And in an office full of increasingly catty people, it’s nice to know that someone has your back, regardless. If they bring you muffins, it sort of seals the deal. The more thought I’ve given this, the more I like the concept. Given the obvious – that there’s no kind of attraction or other feelings involved – it’s sort of like having an ally in an office-oriented game of RISK.

So here’s the big question – what do you guys think about this? Ever experienced it yourselves? Deplore it?

Spill. 

A New Thanksgiving Record

Usually, it's about fifteen to twenty minutes, from start to finish. There's no precise way to measure the time since it's more of a process than a procedure, but this year I am proud to say that my father managed to fall asleep on the couch in less than ten minutes. 

Shortly after that, my brother joined the crowd of the blissfully sleeping:

And then the turkey hat was broken out:

Success on all three counts. 

I hope everyone ate twice their body weight in pie and managed not to die on Black Friday! Personally, my stomach is still rejecting anything that doesn't seem to have a base of potatoes or sugar, so it may be time to actually bite the bullet and sign up for a gym membership. 

Ouch. 

Death by Turkey Saw, and a Plea

Name this movie:

Yeahhhhh, Will Ferrell. 

My brother and I love this movie. We quote it back and forth all the time - texts, emails, the Facebook, in person (though my mom likes that a bit less). I am beyond excited for him to get home on Wednesday night so we can quote inappropriate movies and freak my mom out. Analysis over the past 19 years shows that if one of us freaks her out, there will likely be yelling. If two of us are in on it, the yelling usually doesn't happen, and she just laughs instead. Safety in numbers, my friends. 

------------------------------------------------------------

I talked yesterday about how excited I am for food. Today, let me say this: food is pretty much the only thing I'm excited about. And let me preface the following with this statement: if you met my family, you'd understand.

Eli:And I'm especially psyched for awkward family events.
Me: Ugh. I hope that was a joke lol. I've actually been contemplating which sharp object at Aunt Susie's would be best to impale myself on ... So far the electric turkey slicer is winning.
Eli: Ermehgerd, same. I was thinking I might be able to kill myself by taking a shot every time somebody makes a racist or ignorant comment.
Me: You'd be dead in five minutes.
Eli: It might take a bit longer for the gallons of moonshine I'd be forced to consume to sink in. 

Reading all of your blogs has told me that I'm not the only one with a crazy family, so let's open this up for discussion: what is your go-to, no-fail method for surviving the holidays? 

Help a girl out here. Death by turkey saw is a bad way to go.

Why fall will always make me fat

One word: 

PIE

And that is all. 

I am planning on eating pie this Thursday until I can't move. Which means that yoga pants will be the order of the day (and on my "thankful list" will be this: Thank you for not being a family that requires formal dress on holidays involving large amounts of food, Amen).

There are many things about my extended family that make me want to throw myself in front of a bus - not least of all their refusal to accept the fact that I no longer eat meat (mostly kidding), but they can make a damn good pie. 

And stuffing. And mashed potatoes. And cranberry salad. 

Yoga pants, here we come. 

If I don't see you guys around between now and Thursday - the happiest of Thanksgivings to you and your loved ones :)

My Truth Today

Lying in the Dark

Something I've found lately as part of this whole "adulthood" deal is loneliness. 

In hindsight, that was probably an over-dramatic first sentence, but I refuse to change it. It's true. 

Even in a house with a roommate, two cats and a dog, sometimes it just hits me. 

It's not that I mind being alone. I don't. I've gotten good at it, enjoy it; I like the time to myself. I firmly believe that souls need that time to refresh, take inventory, and realign sometimes. Throw some candles and a bath in there and you've got a full-system relaxation detox. Sometimes that just doesn't cut it though, you know?

Maybe it's nothing more than the summation of a really weird week but I've been really off the last day or so. Nothing is going as expected and I keep finding myself re-examining the relationships in my life, wondering what I'm doing wrong. If I've failed or they failed, or it was just a general letting-go that brought us here. As I get older, I find that the number of really good, true friends I have is diminishing, and sometimes they're hard to let go of. But sometimes, they're impossible to fix. "Quality over quantity" is the mantra I'm repeating over and over in my head. 

It's doubly lonely with A still at college. He's working so hard and now that I've picked up part-time work, seeing each other is getting limited. Sometimes, now that we go more than a week without seeing each other, I think back to this time last year when we saw each other pretty much every waking second, and I laugh a little. I miss my best friend. 

I try to overcompensate by being busy, by filling my time, but still, once I'm home and the lights are finally out, it's different. Maybe it's harder to lie to yourself in the dark. 

One, two, three, run.

Every once in a while, my friend Chels and I decide we need to go adventuring. Besides planning our own hippy - nudist commune, it is probably our second favorite thing to do. And besides, I firmly believe that every soul needs a little adventure once in a while. Ours just happens to center around abandoned places. 

I'm not really sure what it is about these kind of places that draws me, but I love the feeling of traipsing around somewhere neglected, seeing the beauty in something others might regard as a lost cause. 

There happens to be a really gorgeous old estate near my parent's house that we visited yesterday. A shooting happened there a few years ago and it's fallen into neglect since then. Oddly enough though, we weren't frightened there at all (except for the few times we heard gun shots. Hello, hunting season in Pennsylvania) ... just awed by its haunting beauty. Please enjoy the following (slightly excessive) photo dump :) 

My parents always get very concerned when they learn that we're going "adventuring." Thankfully, when I remind them that this is the most illegal and morally culpable thing I do, they come 'round pretty quickly. And besides, we're both very good runners.

#YOLO

Some Little Things of Import

This morning I had an appointment with the optometrist of my dreams, Dr. M. I've been in love with him since I was like, 8, and he gave me my first pair of glasses. I was blind and he made me see. Maybe not the right phrase? But he is a beautiful man. We talked about politics and sports and his cat and I think he knows I'm in love with him, but I'm not sure? Oh well. Thank the Lord I only go there once a year. #awkwardlove

Tonight, I'm making channa masala (for the first time) for one of my work friends and her son. It doesn't look too hard? I think? PRAYING that it works, otherwise I'm going to look a fool.




A has his first real big-man interview today for a job post-graduation! He's wearing a suit and everything! I'm so proud of him. Send good luck thoughts his way, if you get a sec? 

After that last post about anonymous commenters trying to hook me up with prescription happy pills, I've gotten approximately 58 emails from my secret druggie lover. Maybe it's time for a new letter? Dear Anonymous, you're creepin' me out. Time to move on. We are never, ever, ever getting back together! 

Crazy biotch cat Lily actually smiled last night ... while I was on Skype. Thankfully my Juliefriend was fast enough to get a picture of it:

I honestly can't tell if she's genuinely happy ... or dreaming about the best way to kill me in my sleep.

Lastly. Miss Living In Yellow herself is doing something really neat - her readers get to leave an comment exposing their weirdest secrets - anonymously! And so no-one knows who wrote what. Last time I checked there were over 450 secrets over there ... so go share yours! 

I Don't Need Your Concern, Anonymous

One of the things that was super exciting to me when I first started blogging was the concept of the anonymous commenter - someone sitting behind their computer screen spewing venomous comments all over the internet. I know some people get really offended by the things anonymous commenters say. Totally understandable. The more I see of anonymous, the more I realize what a miserable person they are. 

(For the record, I totally know that "anonymous" isn't just one person. But, IMHO, when you start acting like a complete arse just for the hell of it, you don't really deserve the gratification of individualization. So there.)

To be honest, I actually really enjoy reading anonymous comments. Not because they're hurtful but because some of the things they say just straight up make me laugh. 

I've kind of been wanting my own anonymous commenter for a while. 

Finally, last week, I started getting the comments! They come straight to my inbox, so I opened them with a not-so-little level of excitement. Andddd this is what I found:

cheap valium buy cheap valium in the uk - buy valium online no prescription in australia 

valium 5mg buy valium manila - can you buy valium over the counter in canada 

ambien order ambien side effects next day - generic ambien 20mg 

soma online buy soma no prescription online - buy somatropin cheap 

Somewhere along the line, I guess I gave off the impression that I require prescription meds to keep my yin and yang in balance? #Idonthaveaproblem

Oh, and there was one super-concerned comment about cheap viagra ... #alsoI'mnotaman

So. This is actually pretty depressing. I wanted some hateful comments! Ones like all the cool kids get! But, alas. Alack.Turns out anonymous has a soft side? A concerned for blogger's welfare side? 

I guess I'm not really sure where else to go with this ... so hey Anonymous, more venom next time? Less concern? I have a boyfriend that I pay for that, yo. 

Oh, and one last thing that you should already have done or be planning to do:

Just do it. 

Friday's Letters: A Letter to Me

[sometimes I like writing letters to myself and pretending someone else wrote them - someone who is older, and wiser, and knows what to say to make things okay. Someone who can look past all the mercurial thoughts and emotions and make sense of them and make them work for her, instead of against her. If I had someone like that, she would say something like this] 

Dear Emily:

I don't know the right words to say this, to start it off in some poetic fashion that will blow your mind, so I'll just say this: you're only 22. 

I don't know what you're rushing for, and you don't know either, so just stop. Stop panicking over nothing, stop needlessly filling your hours worrying. This all sounds so cliche but just do it. You're only 22, it's okay to not know exactly where your life is going. If there's anything God teaches us it's that He works in unexpected ways, so trust in that. Stop hacking your way through brambles with a hatchet, crying angry tears because you can't make things work the way you want. Maybe there's a reason for that. Maybe you need to accept that. 

It's good to want more. It's good to push, to try harder. You can always be better, but that's not a personal affront to you. It's not supposed to make you miserable. You can't be everything all the time. You can't be the girl in the other office who talks so eloquently, who dresses well every day, who's getting married next year. You aren't her, so stop wishing you are. Stop trying to be other people; you're too old for this game. 

You're too old for that, but too young to feel old. Take some yoga classes or something, shit. Try something different if what you're doing isn't working for you. But stop beating yourself up too. Of all the things not working - that's the biggest. I read a poem once, one that said that there is no expected pace for inner learning. That what we need to learn comes when we need it.

Just remember that. You're only 22. 

   

I would just like to clear this up

... I am *not* a lesbian.

Which isn't to say that there's anything wrong with being one, but I've just never leaned in that particular direction. And no one's ever questioned me about it, until some saucy little twelve year old climbed the steps of my porch last night, reached for some candy, saw some costume, and asked if I was a lesbian protesting. 

This is what I was wearing:

(Yes, that would be Chris slapping me)

A sign that said "Eat Mor Chikin." Guys, I was a Chik fil A cow for three reasons.

1. I'm poor
2. I'm lazy
3. It's outrageously easy to trace their sign

Plus, that whole uproar thing? So totally two months ago. 

Also, I'd just like to put out there that this twelve year old had a little side of sass himself.  Picture this: fat kid with glasses in a homemade Easy Mac costume (picture spray painted toilet paper rolls), peering at me over his frames, asking if I was a lesbian, because his parents were very offended.

I *almost* said "no, do you have a girlfriend?" But the odds were in his favor. I did, however, tell him to drop the candy if he was offended (He didn't).

I hate kids.

What I do not hate though? Fat babies in pumpkin costumes, best friends, and lots of food. Oh, and for the record, we had 276 kids come to our house last night (that's like 271 more than ever came to my parents' house!)

I hope everyone had an amazing Halloween :)

"Sexy _________"

*insert noun here* 

That was my brother's response to my frantic text asking for advice on Halloween costumes last night. I forgot how, in college, any costume worked, as long as one half of your body was readily visible. Oh, those were the days. Except that I never really did sexy? Not well, anyway. 

Freshman year: as Sarah Palin herself - Miss Alaska 1984. Complete with hatchet and borrowed snowboots.

Sophomore year, nothing. No Halloween. Working at Wawa, you guys - it's not for the faint of heart. They don't let you off work early for anything.


Junior year, apparently I felt like an American flag. In moccasins, after two hours of my feet hurting. 

Last year, I was a cat. A really thrown-together, last minute cat. There are exactly two pictures of me, because I felt ridiculous. 

So obviously, "sexy _______" was never really in the cards, although Sarah Palin got some whistles. I guess freshman year was my Halloween prime?

Tonight will be another last-minute, scrambled Halloween at the apartment. No dance parties or stumbling around til the late hours of the morning for us working stiffs. Just a few people over, lots of candy for the kiddies, possibly a dressed-up baby, and a Funfetti cake. Really, what else is there to life? ;) 

I'm a little sad that A won't be there, but determined to make the best of it anyway. He's working so hard at school and it feels silly to be complaining, but this being an hour away nonsense is really no fun at all. 

What's everyone else doing for Halloween? Anything exciting?

letters, then

It is the very, very BEST day of the week, you guys. A day with a lot of promise and excitement! Because tomorrow is SATURDAY! Which is the second best day, in my humble opinion. And it's going to be a very big weekend, with lots of planning for future-y type things. It needs to be five o'clock, like, right now.

One: Dear Lily - you have a face that only a mother could love. Lucky I like you.
Two: Dear self - facemask more often. Duck lips, less often. 
Three: Dear A - I love you. You don't even know. I love that everyone who comes into my office sees that note on my white board and smiles. 
Four: Dear Texxy - same to you. And afternoon porch naps.

Dear Inna - thank you for letting my take pictures of you and your beautiful boy. I hope I can be half the mother you are, someday. And thanks for feeding me, two days in a row. You know I will never, ever, turn down free food. 

Dear five o'clock: LET'S GOOOOO!

really, the title is appropriate

When I started this blog, back over a year ago (how did that happen??), I settled on the decidedly ambiguous name of "What Now, Life?" Mainly because I honestly had no idea what was going to happen after college, and partially because I like sounding gangster in my spare time. Whatever. 

Anyway, that weird title has never been quite so true as it has the past week. I've been feeling caged and a little cornered lately - like I'm somewhere I never wanted to be and have no intention of staying. Like my job is a giant soul-sucking waste of time, and that I'm bored, and slowly growing complacent. And that's a hard feeling for me to deal with. My mom has always told me, since I was born practically, that I need to be challenged in life, and it's true. I'm not one for boredom. I guess that makes me kind of a nomad? 

Over the past week or so, all that has changed drastically. There are some big - and I mean REALLY BIG - announcements that I have to make :) No babies, no marriage (ye gods), but still, very big things for me, and I'm so excited to have them to share. 

In the meantime, I will tell you this: that I had the most incredible weekend and am looking forward to yet another one (my first post-grad homecoming!!), that I got to see my incredible friend Molly that I studied abroad with, and that I've refined the techniques of "hawk dancing." 

Oh, yeah. And the cat is still a raging biotch.