Alright, I know I said I would do a Foto Friday of Santiago Calatrava’s amazing architecture in Valencia, but I’m guessing that no one here really cares but me, haha. So I’m delaying it one more week and introducing Gatsby instead.

Note Riley off to the side trying to remind Momma that just because she has a new toy doesn’t mean she should love her puppy any less. Don’t worry, sweetie, I haven’t forgotten you. But get out of the way. This is Gatsby’s time to shine.

As you may or may not know, Andy’s been quite busy at work lately, doing two jobs instead of one, because he accepted a new role but hasn’t been replaced at the old one yet. This will end in December, but for the past couple of months he’s been very busy and more stressed and tired than usual. He’s also been traveling more, since he has double the meetings with national and global suppliers. At times I have felt like what Twenty Four at Heart calls a Corporate Widow.

Because of this, I honestly was not expecting much for my birthday. Andy warned me long ago, and I was fine with that. He’s been wonderful to me, on birthdays and regular days, so I wanted to be as easygoing as possible for the two months that he needed it most. And of course I’ve been a perfect angel so far! No crying or yelling or anything. Ever. Not once.

…

Anyway, for my birthday, I took the day off to enjoy myself, get some errands done, catch up on TV and housework. I actually felt pretty great just being relaxed. As I was driving home from some Christmas shopping, I thought, MAN, what a beautiful day. I was really happy.

That night when Andy got home from work, he handed me a small bag and said, “Here. It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

Inside was a round green apple.

“I got you a Mac!” he exclaimed.

Har har.

“No, just kidding. I’ve been too busy to get you a gift, but I did make reservations at the Waterfront.” The Waterfront is a very nice Cincinnati restaurant, established by Jeff Ruby, a very well-known local restaurateur.

So we went and had a lovely evening — he had steak, I had scallops, we shared creme brulee — and then headed home to watch Kung Fu Panda, courtesy of Netflix. I was supremely happy with the evening — and stuffed! — when the valet brought our car around. I climbed in, and Andy went to the trunk.

I thought, “Oh geez, did the valet bump something? What’s wrong?”

Andy reappeared in the driver’s seat. “You’re familiar with the literary technique of foreshadowing, right?”

Me: … Of course.

Andy: Good. This is your real present.

Ladies and gentlemen, he did indeed get me a Mac. A brand new MacBook, just like I’d been obsessing over. I cried when I realized. And not because it was an expensive gift, or THE gift I’d been craving. But because of the gesture, the fact that he’d saved up for this extravagance for me, and worked out a great surprise to give it to me.

I’m in love. Not just with the MacBook. But with a very wonderful man who stops at nothing to make me happy. How did I get so lucky?

Pardon me if I’m a little less than coherent today. It’s the first day this week that I haven’t needed allowed myself to nap. Don’t get me wrong, naps are great, but should a twenty-two year old really need to nap at 9:30 am, just two hours after she’s woken up? I think not.

In fact, I’m a little worried about how tired Andy and I have been, particularly in the mornings. I was never this way before, except for a few nights in college when I’d procrastinated studying for a big exam or writing a paper until the night before. But now we’re like zombies in the morning, hitting snooze at least twice before we finally get up to stumble around our bedroom. It’s gotten worse in the past couple weeks, but if I’m being honest, it’s been a problem for the past few months. We tried opening our blinds to let in more natural light, and that helped a bit during summer, but with fall here and winter fast approaching, it’s no longer enough. Mostly because light doesn’t come until well after we’ve woken up and I’m taking Riley out on his morning walk.

We get seven to eight hours on a regular basis, both take vitamins — Andy’s better about it than I am, but he’s usually the tireder one — and eat decently well. So what’s the problem?! I honestly don’t know, but it is starting to worry me. We’re going to look at new mattresses this weekend, since we’re currently sleeping on an innerspring mattress that he’s had for over ten years, but there’s no guarantee it’ll help…

Cross your fingers for me?

What really brought me here was not to beg for your good vibes. (But please, please send them.) What brought me here was the realization that I don’t write happy things.

Okay okay, here on the blog, sure, stuff is mostly happy. Because I’m a generally happy person. I think I got most of my angst — and thus most of my angsty blogging — out during my teenage years, and I have since obliterated/privatized/forgotten about those blogs. Of course, I do have most of them backed up on my computer, because hey, sometimes it’s fun to go back and see how BOO HOO EMO you used to be.

But in terms of my fiction writing — you know, the stuff I want to make a living off of? — I rarely ever write happy things. My main characters are usually angry, sad, or both. Someone important to them has died. And no one really laughs, because snorts and sarcastic chuckles don’t count.

WHAT’S UP WITH THAT, YO?

I don’t go into any of my stories thinking, Hmm, how can I make this really, REALLY emo? They just kind of come out that way! I never thought it was a problem — frankly I thought it was because sad things are easier to write than happy ones — but the more I think about it, the more I realize the signs have been there all along.

Sign #1: my mom sitting me down one day during my junior year of high school and asking if I needed to see a psychologist, because my two award-winning stories were about (a) a woman in an abusive relationship who wants to commit suicide, and (b) a girl who makes a pot of coffee for her brother every morning, despite the fact that he’s been dead for years.

HMMMMM…

There’s no real resolution to this issue, other than my looking a little harder, digging a little deeper, and finding that happy place within me that can produce less depressing fiction that still rings true to my voice.

But you tell me: Isn’t it really weird?! Or am I overreacting?

# # #

On a completely unrelated note, OMG CHECK OUT THE SEKSY. Since I can’t afford one right now, I’m making small tweaks to Winnie so that she and I are both happier. Most recently I lowered the Hardware Acceleration in her Display Settings (say what?? I know) because ever since I upgraded to iTunes 8.0 and Firefox 3.0, they mess each other up and I end up with half of Demi Lovato’s album cover in my Gmail window.

Dear Universe,

Please publish me soon so that I can reward myself with a new Macbook laptop. Also so I can stop feeling like a huge failure and waste of life.

THXBYE,
Kristan