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Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
That's What She Said
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Monday
Dec132010

In Which My Fella Flits Around Flourishing Up The Place

HIM: I can't tell if the Christmas tree is crooked.

ME: Then why do you care?

HIM: It may be something to do with the trajectory of the bottom branches and the way they're pointed in conjunction with the rest of the tree but I still--

ME: Again, if you can't tell then why do you care? It would be one thing if you called to say the Christmas tree is crooked. But if you can't tell then who cares?

HIM: I guess. It looks really good though. I put some other flourishes around the house too.

ME: Flourishes?

HIM: Huh?

ME: Flourishes. Did you say flourishes?

HIM: Yes. I said I put some other Christmas flourishes around the house. FLOURISHES. So?

ME: I wasn't going to write on the blog today, but that one just wrote itself, didn't it?

*****

What NOT to get a pregnant lady for Christmas
A word of advice for anyone trying to shop for a pregnant woman. But you’ll have to wait for it. Because I like to string you along. Like a virtuous young lady at the end of an expensive date. She ordered the priciest thing on the menu and she may hold your hand in the movie, she may even rub your thigh. And she just might invite you in to her house when you walk her to the door but if you think you are getting any action you are sadly mistaken. But listen...me? I will totally put out.
It's what I'm babbling about today.