wow wednesday

7:20 am Receive message from brother that Mama can't find a Globe & Mail in White Rock with my magazine in it. Heart drops as I imagine my mom holding knife to 7-11 employees' panicked throat. Heart falls out onto shoes as I remember magazine only in Vancouver issues. This is after I have messaged probably about 300 people about today, 250 of them not living in Vancouver.

7:40 am Try fruitlessly to contact Mother-in-Law who will be tearing newspapers apart in Victoria trying to find the promised magazine. Feel ill. Oh, and it's really much too early to be this disappointed.

7:50 am Drop Nuv off at work. Try to find todays issue of G & M at three different places before I get to work. It is definitely the red-headed stepchild of newspapers-The Province and Sun laugh at me under their breath as I stomp out of the worst Safeway in the entire world.

9-2 pm Pretend to work while pretending that I don't have to give a speech later today to lots of people who will be looking at me and my mouth. Practice deep breathing at my desk and nearly pass out. Eat soup and rice crackers.

2:30 pm At school, ironing both my hair and dress when stomach starts to karate kick itself inside out. Sit staring out the window ignoring people like a weird wierdo, praying stomach stops effing around.

2:45-3:25 pm Die a slow, sweaty, gurgling, torturous death curled in the fetal position of the handicapped stall of the women's washroom. Pants down around ankles, face cheek resting against the blissfully cool floor. Nearly pass out, lose an ounce of body weight in flop sweat, pray to God that this ends sometime before I'm 33, and know for a goddamn fact I can handle childbirth now. No probs.

3:30 pm Shakily get ready. After my bathroom misadventures it always feels like I need a lukewarm bath and long nap. So, how about instead go give a speech to a bunch of people while looking like you're from 1994 because you have to wear a poncho because any dress that fits your lower half has acres of billowing empty fabric drooping where boobs were meant to go. Yes? YES!

4:40 pm Eat nothing, sip red wine even though I want to chug a bottle, grab the mic, give my speech like the Micro Machines guy, then go on Vacation for a year.

5:20 pm Get text from Nuv 10 minutes before my speech that his cab was just pulled over by the cops because the driver made an illegal left turn into a road block. And didn't have a chauffeurs license. And didn't turn off the meter as the cop was ticketing him. Feel like I'm in a John Hughes movie.

5:27 pm Nuv arrives looking like hot sex on a platter. Relief.

5:35 pm I give speech shakily but get through it with only a teensy bit of crying during the last two sentences. Nuv is convinced crying is my super power. I'm pretty sure its just another awesome trait bestowed upon every girl ever.

6:30 pm Leave the gathering in the pouring rain with many magazines to show off and hand out. Nuv helps carry my 800 bags stuffed with clothes, iron, books, coats and more bags with only a minor exclamation of disgust.

7:30-8:00 pm Have some toast and eggs-sweet heaven. A cup of tea-76 year old heaven. Both go into the stomach without a fight.

8:00-10:00 pm Go and actually socialize with school friends! I am the Scrooge of after school hangouts because I have to get up and work in the mornings, but I needed this. It was so lovely seeing everybody and talking until I forgot where I was, then ambling back home to sleep so well.