CV, she's huge -- and yet, in the last couple of weeks, we've had more people than we can count look at her and say, "Oh, what an alert baby! [They almost never say "She's so alert!" because although she's almost always in pink, it's not frilly or flowery pink, so everyone always chickens out on guessing her gender -- and most of the people who do, guess "boy". Um.] Two months?"
Also, she has two teeth now! Little bitty bottom front teeth, just sprouting up.
Six-month-old babies are awesome for clearing away the mental cobwebs and debris and overhanging pall of depression, but getting to six months can be a little rocky. The cumulative sleep dep will erode all the pleasure centers in your brain if you're not careful. You really need to schedule yourselves a baby holiday somewhere between 3 and 5 months, where grandparents or good friends or someone else you trust can take the babe for a bit -- even just 18 hours will do in a pinch -- and let you sleep, sleep, sleep.
Dinner on Wednesday with exotic, sexy, bright French/Moroccan guy.
Must be gay, right?
Who gave Allyson's insecurities her password?
Is this an upgrade from tea or in addition to or am I totally making up things in my head and thinking they are real?
Have fun, in any case!
There was totally a tea thing, sarameg. I remember, because it wasn't coffee.
Dinner on Wednesday with exotic, sexy, bright French/Moroccan guy.
Must be gay, right?
Doubtful, since I've been searching for someone who fits that description for quite some time and have yet to find suitable candidates. If that turns out to be the case, send him East and I'll wire you a finder's fee.
Who would ever want to spend time with Allyson? Must be a loser.
I talked to ex-Boss and ex-Project Leader and they both are gratifyingly sorry/dismayed/disconsolate that I am gone. They also want me to end up someplace good so that when they end up looking for work, they'll have an 'in'.
Good!
I am tired of trying to tell New Person everything in the world, and also I should be doing my own current work! Oh well.
Grrrrrrrrrrr. We have this policy, which is that only managers can contact clients. I understand the point of the policy, but it is absolutely infuriating at times. Like now. I can't do my job without having certain questions answered by clients. But my boss is as stressed out as the rest of us, plus his sanity is quite literally hanging by a thread right now due to some personal issues. He's been absolutely dropping the ball and its making my work life hell. I thought about calling one of the other managers, but that's like tattling on him, and I don't expect that's going to help in the grand scheme of things. Besides, the rest of the managers are just as busy and unresponsive as he is. This is why I hate my job.
Dinner on Wednesday with exotic, sexy, bright French/Moroccan guy.
Must be gay, right?
Nope, not necessarily. I dated an exotic, sexy, bright Moroccan guy for awhile a few years back and he was definitely not gay.
Never had this happen to me before: as I was carrying Chinese take-out to my office, my pants fell down. Which is embarrassing yet encouraging at the same time. Apparently though my weight has plateaued, at least some of the excess waistline flab seems to have been converted to leg muscle instead, as I'm pretty sure this wouldn't have occurred if my waist were still 38".
