30, not so different from 29

Last night for my birthday, my parents, my two good friends M and L and Jillian went to dinner at Barclay Prime, a steak place here in Philly. It was delicious and Jillian was very good. It helps when there are four people other than me who are willing to hold her. A delicious martini also helps - my first in over a year and a half.

30 isn't that different than 29. Time to just keep on keepin' on.

Here are some pictures, with Jillian prominently featured, of course. There are some of L and M as well, but I am not sure if they would like to be on this blog.

16 (+ 13) going on 17 (+13)

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday. I don't think that I am that emotional over it. Last year, my birthday sucked. Perhaps that is material for my anonymous blog.

This year, hopefully I will have a good birthday. I didn't have any big goals to reach before I hit 30, so I am not freaking out that I haven't run a marathon yet or anything. Please note that I will never, ever run a marathon. EVER. If I did, I wouldn't be "staying true to myself."

My goals for this year are to go on a date and be a decent mom. I am setting the bar both high and low.

As I exit my twenties, I can say (in somewhat cheesy - precious moments - blessed event kind of way) that I have accomplished having a very good, cute baby.

Shadow Boxing and Air Guitar, kinda the same, ya know

I didn't have cable for a couple of days, so I watched a bunch of movies on dvd while hanging out with my parents at night. I know, I know, does the excitement ever end? Anyway, I decided to watch "Rocky," the 1976 Oscar winner for Best Picture. I did this in part because it is set in Philly (see "Trading Places" reference below).

There is alot of shadow boxing in Rocky. Like 10 guys standing in a gym, punching the air. This seemed a lot like air guitar to me. That is, totally useless and kinda funny to watch. Or that it is an activity that should take place in private or something. I am sure that hard core boxers will disagree with the comparison, but I pack a pretty hard punch for a girl, so bring it.

In contrast I suck at air guitar.

Settling into Our New Home

With the help of Grandma and Grandpa, Jillian and I are settling in to our new apartment in Philly. Slowly but surely things are getting into place. We got cable and internet today, which was super exciting. Until I learned I am third to last in St. Scobie's NCAA bracket, ahead of two people who clearly just didn't do their brackets in time. Oh well, things are just going to start falling through the cracks.

It is freezing here. But luckily, I look really cute in winter hats. That is not me being egotistical, trust me at this point in my life that is the last thing I am, I am pointing that out as a positive of living back on the east coast. I can wear winter hats.

But the flip side is that it is freakin' cold.

More later...so much has happened in the past few days!

Jedediah's Impotent Rage

On the plane, we saw "A Night at the Museum." In it, Owen Wilson plays a mini cowboy (Jedediah) and at one point tries to shoot Ben Stiller with his toy guns. As the guns are fake, and Owen is mini, nothing happens to Ben Stiller. Seeing this, Owen shouts something like "ahhh! Jedediah's impotent rage!!!"

What is the point of this tale? Well, I have started an anonymous blog; one that won't be censored by people who read this blog. Of course, to stay anonymous, I won't share the link here. Thus, my other blog will be a place for me to shoot my toy guys in futility, express my impotent rage.

I share that information just to let you all know that my need to write about the details of my life will be met. In a way that is me shouting into the vacuum that is the blog-o-sphere.

Votes are in - Blog stays

I am going to keep this blog. I like it, and feel like it has at least a fan base of 6 people. I wouldn't want to deny the loyal readers of their Jillian fix. In honor of the blog staying up, I am posting a butt load tonight. Pictures of Jillian are included in one of tonight's posts.

Emergency Contact Information

Because I am starting in a new office at my firm, I had to do all the new hire paperwork again. This task included filling out the "in case of emergency" forms - you know, who to call as my contact in an emergency situation. Sadly, I again have to put down my mom. No more husband to call if I am laid up in a hospital after being hit by a SEPTA bus or something. Just my mom and dad. And they, quite honestly, have had enough of taking care of their almost 30 year old daughter for now. Taking care of baby J, however, they can never get enough of.

So please don't let me get hit by a SEPTA bus. I think.

My Man, the Hedgehog

Hedgehogs are pretty popular these days. They are cute, some are magnetic and hold paper clips (see http://trilogyofstupidity.blogspot.com/2007/02/hedgehogs-and-other-distractions.html), and this one is rapidly becoming J's favorite toy. Thus, he merits three, yes three pictures.

This little guy has been lost twice on the airplane. Once we had to put out an APB on the hedgehog. All flight attendants were on put on alert. He couldn't have gone far (or at least couldn't have gotten off the plane at 37,000 feet) and we eventually found him. The second time, Jillian took it upon herself to fling him across the cabin. We were sitting in first class* and the business man it hit didn't take to kindly to a slobbery hedgehog landing on his WSJ. I wanted to tell that jerk that I didn't pay for my ticket just the same as him so he could suck it (I am convinced that no one actually pays for first class - it is all people whose clients are paying, reward travel, or upgrades). But I held my tongue and encouraged more hedgehog tossing by Jillian. Anyway, we got the little guy back.

Today, Jillian's grandma lost the hedgehog. We immediately sought to find a replacement. Luckily there was one left at babies r us. After all of this we found Hedgehog, the original. So we have two little guys and that is probably a good thing.

Alright, enough rambling about hedgehogs.

*Two places where people don't fawn over Jillian are first class and Neiman Marcus in Garden State Plaza. I guess when you are important enough to be either place, you are above acknowledging my cute baby.

VOTE OR DIE

This has been a tough year for me, one that I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Now I am about to move into my apartment in Philly and start over. So in the spirit of starting over, I am thinking of shutting down this blog.

I started this blog intending to post pictures of me pregnant and the baby. To share pictures and funny stores about starting a family. But life has changed so much since I started, I feel like the tone and content of the blog has changed with it. While I enjoy blogging, I find it difficult to keep doing so without revealing what is going on in my life. I don't know who reads this blog and I don't know what anyone would care to read about beyond Jillian. But it is hard to be so compartmentalized and so censored.

So I am calling a vote - should I keep this blog going? Should I just keep it about baby J? (I will have more pictures soon, the move has made everything all catty-wompus.)

I am watching "Trading Places" to try and get psyched for Philly and I think I just saw Al Franken in it. He is in charge of a gorilla on an Amtrak train.

Last Dance

So tonight is my last night in SF. I am sitting with my closest friend here eating a picnic of cupcakes and champagne (well California sparkling wine as she just informed me because the grapes are not French, or would it be freedom sparkling wine if it were champagne and we were on Fox news, but we aren't, and Anne Coulter shouldn't be either PLEASE stop giving her a forum to speak).

Ok so the California sparkling wine has affected my ability to blog coherently, but so what? I am leaving a home that I thought would be mine and my new little family's for a long time. But no little family for me. Time to start a new life, sans husband in a new city. Not just sans husband, but sans any kind of significant other. How the hell am I supposed to date? Who is going to want to date me? This whole situation is just redonkulous.

We are sitting on the floor because there is no furniture. It is all very college.

So time for the last dance, last chance for love. But we all know that there is no love, or chance for love here. Best that we move on.

At Least...

I kinda flipped out on my mom today. I feel bad. All week, she kept saying "at least..." and filling in the rest of the sentence with something that most people wouldn't give a second thought to. Like "at least the weather is good for flying." Or "at least the pizza will be here soon." There is no precursor to the "at least" other than my life in general. For most people, the phrase would be "you have a long flight, but at least the weather is good for flying" or "I am hungry, at least the pizza will be here soon."

While I do think it is important to be happy about what you can be, I have banned "at least" from our vocabulary.