A NY moment

I hardly ever wear dresses. Why you say? because I am the ultimate clutz. I am the person you see stumbling over a piece of dust on the sidewalk and immediately turning around to look for the mountain that had surely suddenly risen up.
I am the one that cannot drink coffee in the subway and manage to read her book while trying to keep a resemblance of balance. I will be the one always saying "sorry about that" while she bumps into you when there was absolutely no reason to be bumping into anyone.
I know I am a clutsz so I don't wear dresses just in case I fall I don't, on top of making a fool of myself, flash the entire world. I also don't wear white pants for the same reason. If I wear anything light I know that I'll be the one seating in the only seat where a 2 year old brat dropped his or her cranberry juice. But... but, I broke my rule a few days ago and wore white pants, and what had to happen happened, I fell.
As I was making my hurriedly way to the subway, climbing up the stairs in as a nonchalant way as I could muster, all the while cursing myself for having sat and knowing that I most likely was wearing someone's breakfast on my butt, I stumbled and fell.
First thought: "Do not put your knees down woman! you're wearing white!" so I probably looked like I was doing a downward dog in a very yogi fashion so as to avoid the sure stain. Of course when you have about a hundred people behind you it fails to look athletic and just looks pathetic.
I tried to follow the flow of the fall, and just grabbed my book that had flown from my hands as I was picking myself up, just so that it didn't look that evident, but didn't quite manage. My hair fell on my eyes so that I was blinded for a second, my sunglasses dropped on the floor and my most feminine attitude went out the window. I had to turn around and apologize to the line that had formed behind me patiently waiting for me to get it together.
We all missed the subway.
The white pants are in the closet and will gather dust. I am not to wear them again nor will I attempt to wear a dress, unless it's down to my ankles and I'm wearing shorts underneath it... better safe than sorry....

Life is a bitter mystery

"Life is a bitter mystery" was an expression used by one of my old coworkers way back then, and it's one of those expressions I often refer to. It's true, you never know what you'll get in life, although I'm still debating about the bitter part. Lately though I've gone through a quite mind-boggling experience that would tend to assert that quandary yet I've somehow managed to keep a stiff upper lip, if you know what I mean.
I found out a few months ago that although mentally I'm still a young chick (yes, maturity is not a lifetime goal), my body has decided to prove that it's not that infallible.; more precisely the lady-ovaries decided to act beyond their age and stopped producing as many ovules as they should. The result? No little jr. Ns about to come. And so Mr. N and I went to an ovary specialist, better known as a fertility doctor.
Many probings and sticking with needles later, 4 (yes read four) embryos were transplanted. Needless to say that I was in a state of panic. Four? The hell? one seems impossible enough, but 4? No worries, none of them decided to stick around, and this is where I recalled my coworker's expression. You see I panicked at the idea of having four, but having none was even harder. And so now I find myself thinking that next time around if I'm asked whether it's OK to transplant 11 embryos I'll just have to think of what name to give to the football team, because people, life is a bitter mystery, and out of the eleven I'll hope that one decides to call itself my kid... and hey, if they all decide to stick around, we'll need a goal keeper!

Just a little something

I'm writing because I said I would, but I'm so tired that I'm going to collapse any second now so I'm keeping it short.
What has happened since last I wrote? Semester is over, got good grades. Garden has been planted. My cooking mojo is back. Trying to quit smoking so not drinking while cooking, maybe that changed it?
Anyway, I've officially joined my grandmother's ranks: I am now in bed by 10:30 and getting up (without alarm mind you) by 6:30. I say it's the summer, sounds better than age.
I am not inspired tonight and can't stop yawning, so I'll leave y'all until tomorrow.
I'll try and be a bit more awake, although I can't promise anything.
Signing off.

Oh my!

It's been over a month!! Such laziness.
I'll write tonight, really, I will.