2003-01-07 - 2:26 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Oh Daddy", Fleetwood Mac

So, two things out of the ordinary happened today:

1. I got rear-ended.
2. I accidentally shoplifted.

The rear-ending story:

On my way home from dropping Poindexter at work, I had gone through a green light and traffic wasn't moving, so I was just sitting there, waiting and watching. Next thing I know, WHAM! I never did think to ask the guy what he was doing that he hit me; it was obvious that traffic wasn't moving. Good thing was, he couldn't have been going more than 5-10mph, so he put a little dent in the bumper but that was it. All I got from the rear-ending of the Ghia was a sore neck (and she was going at least 25-30mph when she hit me; she crumpled the right rear of the car), so I'm not expecting anything from this one.

We were exchanging insurance information, when a cop came along and took over. That was nice. He suggested that I not bother to report it to the insurance company if I wasn't hurt, since there was no damage. I wasn't planning on it, anyway. Insurance rates are too high as it is. The other guy's car had the plastic bumper and it was all cracked and shit. I hate those plastic bumpers.

The guy who hit me lives over in West Philly, has a very English name but looks Russian or Eastern European with a hint of Jude Law, of all people. And he had green eyes. Ooooo. I wouldn't say I was attracted to him -- he was not expressive enough for that -- but he was actually kinda cute. That was weird. I wonder what might've happened if I was single, if I would've called him for a date or something. Or suggested that he take me out to dinner to make up for hitting me. As it was, he apologized about ten times, said he hoped he hadn't ruined my day, and I said, "No, don't worry -- looks like the bumper did its job."

The shoplifting story:

I was buying a bunch of stuff in the Wawa and tucked the pint of milk (in a plastic jug the size of a soda can) under my arm. It got sort of lost among the coat material, and I didn't feel it there, and I didn't notice it when I went up and threw all the other crap on the counter. Then I was in the store next door when I suddenly realized I had a pint of milk under my arm. I flew back to the Wawa and paid. Thank goodness nobody else noticed. Last thing I needed was to be detained for shoplifting after I just spent half an hour waiting for a cop to do all the fender-bender paperwork.

The weekend was lovely. We celebrated Second Christmas with my folks, since they did not make it to Florida this year. It felt just like Christmas, too! I was very excited in the morning, running and hopping up and down to make my jingle bells jingle. And then it snowed, so we had *another* white Christmas!

I got three picture books about Philadelphia, as I had requested, a few gift certificates, and some cool ornaments. Mom found Poindexter some solid black ball ornaments! The books were even better than I was expecting, and Poindexter likes them too. My parents also gave us a check to spend on dinners out, and the money's burning a hole in my pocket. A couple neighborhood places are high on the agenda.

Most importantly, however, the gifts I bought were well-received. I was really lucky this year in terms of finding nifty stuff. The favorites seemed to be: the chili pepper lights for my Dad (who is a HUGE fan of hot peppers), the framed photo of the Chrysler building for my brother (it's his favorite building in NYC), and the extremely cute snowman electric candle for my mom, complete with real twig arms. Mom loves snowmen, and she never burns shaped candles (because then she can't look at them anymore), so the electric candle thing was a good find. The bulb is hidden inside the snowman's head, so it just lights him up inside.

Poindexter and I, as usual, didn't get each other anything. Happily, no one seems to notice anymore and give us crap about it.

On "Christmas Eve", we went to the first birthday party for Alicia and Mike's younger son. There were five children there, so it was quite hectic. Mike caught me in the kitchen with the birthday boy, whom I was holding, talking to, and kissing on his pudgy little cheeks, and said, "See, you want a baby!"

There was a lot of that, at the party. Everyone seems to be expecting us to have children. I suppose I might want one if they could sleep and didn't turn into teenagers, and didn't make a beeline for an unprotected electrical outlet at the drop of a hat. Yeah. Poindexter told me how his sister opened up a bobby pin once and stuck it into an electrical outlet and was thrown across the room.

We told Mike, "Sorry, but you've ruined it. What if we had kids and they weren't as cute as yours? We'd be so disappointed, but we can't send 'em back."

Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to regret not having children. I do like kids, and family is so important to me. But I just don't have that URGE. And I really love my life right now. I suppose I still have a few years to see if I change my mind.

I mentioned to my mom over the weekend that I feel like I'm getting old. Not in the sense that my body feels old, but that I feel like I don't have much time left. And then I look at pictures of my older (70ish) relatives that were taken 25-30 years ago, and realize, jeez, I'm not even halfway through my expected life span (which could be well into my 90s, based on my family history). Not to mention I see 40ish and 50ish women every day who are still vibrant, attractive women, so it's not like I'm going to be over the hill physically in five years.

This is not related to the fear of death that I was obsessed with in my late 20s. I seem to have made some peace with that. It's more that I am just enjoying things so much, I feel like I haven't got enough time left to enjoy them.

I realized a couple nights ago that part of the reason is that time is going so much faster. I can't believe Poindexter and I have been together for seven years. It feels like just a couple of years, and the glow hasn't even come close to wearing off. We don't have that chemical rush of a new relationship anymore, but life with Poindexter is consistently the most fun and fulfilling time I've ever had. I feel like even a sixty-year marriage wouldn't be enough.

Another aspect of this is a feeling that that I wasted so much time in childhood. Adulthood is SO INCREDIBLY MUCH BETTER than childhood was, but I've only been a completely independent adult for about 8.5 years. I wish I could've started adulthood much sooner, like maybe when I was 18, the way it was before the infantilization of everyone under age 25.

Gratuitous photo of the day:

The ridiculous look on my face is because someone just told a fart joke and made me laugh.

Here, my brother and I are putting an ornament on the tree together. I had to cut him out of the photo; sorry. :) If it helps, he looks like a witty, intelligent version of (hard to imagine, I know) Carson Daly with better-kept eyebrows, mixed in with some Matthew Perry and Cameron from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off".

It's a four-sided ornament, each side a square with a picture on it with some sparkles. He specifically requested that we put it up together at Second Christmas. We made it for my folks about 20 years ago. I remember I got all anal and bossy about making it, and criticized what he did on his two squares. As an adult, I think what he did was adorable and perfect.

Sometimes when I look back I can't stand who I was before I was 20 or so, and even more so before I was maybe 16. I was not a horrible child, to hear most adults around me tell it, but I remember some of my brattier and more selfish moments and I'm just horrified with myself. I like myself much better now, based on the changes I've chosen to make and the fact that I try to rein in certain annoying qualities I have. Now if I could just go back and erase the dumb shit I did before ...

On the other hand, we were discussing nagging in a general context, and my brother said something like "You haven't bugged me since I was eight years old." So maybe I wasn't that awful.

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