Break From Proofing Meme

Ten Years Ago:

Chris and I are doing renovations on our new "starter" home (that ten years later we will still live in) and planning our upcoming April wedding. Lots of bickering over silly details. Annoyed with friends and co-workers constantly asking me "why?" I want to get married. For the first (and only time), I'm excited about the projects I'm assigned in my new position as "Assistant Producer" for AOL's Reference Channel. I launch my first "major" area -- "Que's Computer and Internet Dictionary." It's a hideous design. My manager loves me. I'm the perfect corporate monkey. I believe I am going places even though an Ocean City, NJ psychic recently told me that I have already reached my career pinacle with the company and am really supposed to be a teacher. He also calls me a smart ass.

Five Years Ago:

I'm preparing my graduate lecture on duende and editing my thesis (defunct manuscript this blog is named after). I'm submitting my manuscript to hoards of contests I have no chance of winning. I'm sending out resumes to rejoin the workforce I left for grad school. I'm not particularly excited about the prospect, but feel like it's something I should do. I'm seeking guidance from a psychic and disappointed when she tells me there is no book in my immediate future.

One Year Ago:

I'm fat and uncomfortable, exhausted from amenia. Chris is constantly up my ass about my eating habits. People give me annoying parenting advice. My maternity clothes are too tight and I'm sick of wearing the same four pairs of pants. I hate being pregnant, but am excited about having a baby. The house is full of baby gifts. Our ugly guest room is transformed into a beautiful nursery. The house keeps leaking water. I'm doing a fair amount of writing. I get the idea of doing The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel but decide not to embark on it until after I have the baby. Tons of ideas I have no way of completing stream through my mind. I'm seeking guidance from my astrologer who tells me that despite the chaos going on in friends' and family's lives, our house will be protected. Am disheartened when he says I won't get much writing done the first seven months of Gideon's life. I decide to prove him wrong. I'm generally happy, but worn. I believe my diabetic cat, Clyde, is getting better and have no idea these are the last weeks of his life.

Yesterday:

Chagrined to wake up to a snotty and bizarrely nasty comment (anonymous, of course) on this blog from something I wrote well over a year ago. Respond with my standard "Go Fuck Yourself." Receive a text message from an old boyfriend informing me that he's about to undergo his first round of chemo. I spend every free moment putting together and sending out Bedside galleys. Sweep Cheerios from the floor twice. I do 45 minutes on the treadmill and am frustrated at how long it's taking me to lose the "baby" weight, but am pleased to discover I lost 3 pounds last week. I am constantly feeding Gideon who is now eating almost as much as I am. I share my chicken salad with him over dinner. I offer him a taste of ice cream and regret doing so after he screams for more in the restaurant. I give him more to keep him quiet so not to disturb the other patrons. Chris mocks my "one space / two space" debacle, claims he tried to tell me that YEARS ago.