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many many many times, when I’m typing my name, I type it correctly. but many many many times I type it chriseta. a few times, chriesta. I like both of those variations.

also, remember when I wanted to name my baby Max? And lately, when I think about someday having a 2nd child, a girl this time, I am contemplating the name Ruby, a name I got from a friend of a friend, but it’s okay, because I never see this person and the chances of our families ever getting together are very small, so copycatting that name is not so bad. So if I had kept the name Max and then had a girl named Ruby, I’d have Max and Ruby and there’s a show on TV called Max and Ruby, about bunnies I think, and boy am I glad I didn’t use the name Max. People would think I planned it out somehow, as a fan of the show, and that is definitely not the case. Not that any of this matters. I didn’t name my son Max.

He’s definitely NOT a Max, although that is still a very good name.

I talked about the whole idea of Santa Claus today with Guh, and we both agree that we want to not do the Santa thing in our house. Gifts between friends and family members at the holidays will be fine, but we’re not going to have Santa. I haven’t really thought about how this will go down, especially as Ry gets older and all his friends have Santa and he comes home and says “what’s wrong with me, why doesn’t Santa love me, he doesn’t visit us but he visits Sean’s house and Katie’s house and Paul and Mike and Lee and EVERYONE, so why not me, mommy? Why does Santa hate me? What did I do? I love Santa!” and then he starts crying because Santa hates him. I suppose I’ll worry about that when it happens. But for now, we’re agreed that there’s no Santa coming to town for us.

I can’t WAIT to hear what my family has to say about this. I just won’t tell them. But maybe I will, just to get a rise.

Already I’m the craziest person alive because I like to buy healthy, organic foods for my baby, instead of junk food and soda and preservative-filled crap.

But I will admit that I’ve done the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do when I was pregnant. Let Ry watch TV. What a deluded fool I was. I honored that intention for a fairly decent amount of time, but I eventually cracked.

I am a TV junkie. How can I keep my son away from it if I can’t even keep myself away from it? There are worse things I could do as a parent, sure, but I am none too pleased with myself. But to be fair to myself and my good intentions, the TV became much more of a fixture in his little life when Guh was home watching the boy and I was out working.

I am very good about limiting his exposure to very specific things: he can only watch a Baby Einstein DVD or Classical Baby on HBO (which I TiVo’d), Sesame Street (he is bored mostly with it but he likes Elmo), or maybe a show now and then on Noggin (a kids network that doesn’t show commercials). He loses interest in most TV programs after a few minutes, with the exception of baby einstein and classical baby. Those two have him completely enthralled.

Oh, and he likes the opening song on Spongebob Squarepants, too.

TV is very evil and I really need to do something about it, for his sake and my own. I don’t know what though. I love it so much. TV is my best friend. My sweetest friend. She loves me.

sigh.

Those just might be the two worst words in the english language. Because it usually comes right after a much needed break in a very lengthy and/or boring conversation.

Annoying Talkie Person: “Blah blah da blah blah de blah doo dah blah blah….” (and so on).

Me: “uh-huh. Yes. I see. Of course. mm hmm (much external nodding and internal eye-rolling going on).

Annoying Talkie Person: “blah blah blah blabbity blab blab blah blah…” and the hell continues.

Then suddenly, due to some outside influence or perhaps the distracted mind of the talkie person, there is a break, a silence, and the music swells and there you see it, freedom, bliss, peace and rainbows and pretty flowers GO GO RUN FOR IT! and you manage to extract yourself from the conversation, yipee you scream in your head, and you find yourself involved in something else entirely, something much more pleasing and enjoyable, like maybe burning your toes with a lighter.

But then the music turns somber and menacing and before you can react, Annoying Talkie Person is behind you and you hear:
“So, anyway…”

and you’re sucked back in, bye bye rainbows and candy and fun and pretty colors and fresh air.

Now, that being said, I will acknowledge the numerous postings on this very site with those exact words. But it’s in a quiet context and that phrase is not nearly as cringeworthy when you’re merely reading it. Everyone is free to click off whenever they want, before they ever get to the so anyway portion of the show.

I think you would all agree with me.

Earlier today, my boy was looking an awful lot like the lead singer of Radiohead. Maybe my dream for thom yorke’s love child came true last night while I was sleeping! Maybe, just maybe. It is the time of miracles after all, right? Virgins and baby jesuses, oil lamps burning for all those extra nights, rock bottom prices on the season’s hottest tech toys, Mariah Carey’s Grammy nominations and of course the continued existence of Pamela Anderson’s “comedy” on Fox. It’s the time of miracles alright.

Speaking of scary, floating around me are talks, rumors, stories, possibilites of a ring. A ring for me. A ring that says “we’re getting married!” A kind of ring that a girl in my situation might be wanting, might in fact be longing for and wishing after. Let’s thank our lucky stars I am not that girl.

G says his mother keeps telling him I really need a ring; he really needs to get me a ring this Christmas, that it’s time. I told him I don’t need a ring. I told him I’m not a ringy kind of girl. I told him there’s no money for a ring. I told him do not get me a ring.

He says, “you’re afraid of commitment.” I say, “We are together, we have a baby, that’s enough, that’s about all we can handle.” He says, “Maybe she’s right, maybe it’s time.” And I say, “No no, she isn’t right, it’s not time. There is no money. No money for a ring. My fingers are too fat for rings. There are no rings for me.”

So yeah, I’m a bit freaked out. I made it clear to him that I don’t want a ring, to ignore his mother and listen to me. Because that is a situation I absolutely positively do not want to deal with right now. Because if he gets me a ring, then I have to give an answer, and I’m not going there. repeat: I am not going there. There are only two possible answers when someone gives you a ring, and neither one fills me with much excitement.

His mother might think I want a ring because I made the mistake of telling her that in certain situations, to strangers, I have referred to his family as my “in-laws” and I have even referred to him as my husband. Because sometimes it’s just easier to do that. In certain situations. Of course, the second I said this and saw her eyes light up with pleasure and satisfaction, I knew my big fat stupid mouth went too far.

What is it with people and marriage? They just love it. They love it so much. And you know, that’s fine by me. Really it is. Great for them. Fantastic! Happy beautiful marriage! Let the whole world join in holy matrimony. But leave me alone about it, okay? Seriously. You go your sacred and wedded way and let me go my merry indecent and blasphemous way. Please.

I’ve heard it said before, “well, you’re just not interested in marrying G, that’s all. If you met the RIGHT guy, you’d want to get married. It’s only natural.” And to this I say: shut up. Because it doesn’t matter. Because some other guy, right or not, isn’t wanting to marry me. Because some other guy isn’t the father of my baby. Because the reality is I’m in a relationship with G, we have a warm sweet, gorgeous baby and I do not want to get married. End of story. There’s no right guy, there’s no wrong guy, there’s just me and him and our son. That’s how it is right now and I don’t need a ring or old-fashioned mothers trying to fool with something that could so easily break under too much pressure.

Now can someone please give me broadband before I die. PLEASE.

The past few days have found me rather blind to the professional hockey world. I knew very well of the Bruins’ horrible record (1 win the past 10 games) and I thought for sure, FOR SURE, the coach would be fired, and sooner rather than later (which really wouldn’t have bothered me, because honestly in the past two seasons he hasn’t shown me anything to be excited about but whatever).

You can imagine my surprise tonight when I flip on the hockey game and find out that the Bruins have traded their top player, the seemingly untouchable Joe Thornton, for three players from the Sharks. The combined yearly salary of those new guys is over a million dollars less than Thornton’s. A lot of you guys aren’t that interested in hockey and don’t know or care much about this deal, but I’m telling you it’s HUGE, especially for Boston. It’s much like when the Red Sox ditched Nomar Garciaparra.

Everyone in Boston loves Joe and the whole team sort of orbited around him, he was the foundation for this franchise, the shining star for the owners, and now he’s a Shark. A frigging San Jose Shark. Unbelievable.

I never particularly liked the guy because he can be so aggravating. He’s supposedly a top-notch “elite” forward, as he’s called himself plenty of times, and he runs around in all the local commercials here like he’s the hottest thing ever. But damn it if he doesn’t play like a sissy. He’s a big guy but you’d see more guts from my grandma, if she was alive and playing pro hockey. If you’re going to call yourself an elite player, you better make sure you make it out of the first round of playoffs. And it isn’t just me. I’m not telling you anything you can’t read for yourself on a million and one sports sites.

So yeah, he’s frustrated me, watching him twirl around in all those games. With his paycheck, you expect more.

But still…even I was dismayed to see him go. He’s a wuss, sure, but he’s OUR wuss. He belonged to us. He belonged to the Bruins. I know you can’t have pro sports teams where the players get drafted by a team and stick around with them for their entire careers and then retire with that same team. I know it doesn’t work like that, that it can’t work like that, not now, but I never imagined that it would be Joe Thornton on the cutting block. Never ever. Guess that’s why I’m not running a sports club, eh?

Maybe those guys at the top know what they’re doing (although it’s highly unlikely). Tonight, the Bruins manage to not only win, but to shut out the best team in the NHL and give them their first loss in the division. For 60 minutes, Boston played good, solid hockey. They were a pleasure to watch. A PLEASURE. I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed watching the Bruins play. Mostly you’re cringing and averting your eyes and feeling ashamed, rocking back and forth and saying “why why why…”

How this will all play out makes for a very interesting year and a very excited christa.

p.s. I am starting to accept the fact that I’m probably not going to be marrying a hockey player anytime soon. I’m not ruling out the possibility entirely, but I think my advancing age and my baby has made it a bit more difficult. And yes, Gordon USED to play hockey, but that doesn’t count. I USED to do a lot of things, too, and look where I am now.

I looked at the calendar today and it actually dared suggest that it’s December 1st. Can you believe the nerve of that lousy calendar?

I don’t know what happened, it seems like Ryland was just turning 1 yesterday and now suddenly it’s december and winter is breathing down our necks and everywhere you look is HOLIDAY CHEER. I don’t like it when time sneaks up on me like this, it makes me grumpy and anxious. I am not ready for 2006. I am barely ready for 2005. Is there something we can do? I need to talk to someone about getting an extension. Just a few more weeks please. Let’s do November over again, better yet let’s do August over again, I liked August, I was still in Tucson and Ryland was still my little baby and my friends were all close, so I choose August, yes definitely, AUGUST PLEASE.

I feel very lonely these days and Ryland feels lonely and I think everyone I know and love in Arizona needs to move to Boston. We’ll get one of those big old New England houses, with endless rooms and lots of fireplaces and hardwood floors and we’ll play games and drink grown-up drinks and laugh and watch movies and it will be a lot of fun.