girly wants.

I pride myself on having beautiful, smart, and amazing girlfriends who do not easily identify with the personality of Sex and the City characters. And after many recent dashed plans, due to busy schedules and chaotic lives, our little group finally had a chance to get together today to celebrate Quavin and her little one on the way.

We had a great time at Farmacia, where we enjoyed yummy 1/2 price cocktails and delicious food (it would not be an exaggeration to say I could have probably eaten 6 more servings of their grilled brie and downed at least 3 more bloody Marys…). After we finished chatting, laughing, eating, drinking, and demonstrating how/why I am not mentally or physically prepared for childbirth, we began our journey back to the Jersey side. But first, we all needed caffeine to stave off the food coma.

Sitting around Cosi, we ended up getting into a rather in-depth conversation about make up, which made me realize that, although I enjoy being friends with women who are not average “girly girls,” I am glad I have people to discuss these things with, because clearly there is a lot of shit out there I know nothing about. And now I’ve learned there are several things I need to add to my growing list of  girly “wants,” including:

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fever dreams

After realizing that I was not going to “shake off” whatever horrible sickness I woke up with yesterday, I called it quits at work around 11:30 and dragged my tired, aching body onto 2 trains and down 2 city blocks to make my way back home. And almost instantly, after stripping out of my work clothes into PJs, and actually putting away said work things, I crawled into bed, where I stayed from 1:30 p.m. until 10 a.m. the next morning.

I spent most of the time asleep, or somewhere in between awake and dreaming, understanding that time was passing, but not really able to make much sense of it. I was in the thick of a fever, one that rose from 99 to 101.5 in a couple of hours. It was funny to watch D’s face as he took my temperature, especially because he initially thought I was “milking it.” Had I been more myself, I probably would have felt more vindicated when I saw that startled look in his eyes as he read the triple digits on the thermometer.

I don’t really remember any of my fever dreams, aside from knowing they happened. I woke myself up a few times, moaning and talking in my sleep, but even then, the dreams had already become fragmented memories, lost before there was even a proper chance to remember them. Places, faces, conversations… all of it slipped away.

The reality of those 15 hours didn’t become apparent until today, before I stepped into the shower, when D pointed out the scratches/cuts on my back.

“How did this happen?”

“Excellent question…”

I examined the marks in the mirror, unsure of how they got there, but certain I knew when it happened.

The bottom line? The mind is a funny thing and the way that it handles/processes things (such as the physical manifestations of a half-day worth of fever dreams) will never cease to amaze me…

Some days, even my lucky rocketship underpants don’t help…

It’s been a dog of a day, but at least the following provided a little bit of humor. Hopefully if any of the dear readers are looking for a pick-me-up today, you might find it here, in this hodge-podged wrestling ring, somewhere in Philly…

Hope all is well out there. Keep your chins up, dear readers–it’s a bitch when it scrapes on the sidewalk.