Natural Disaster

I have a tendency to be unnecessarily uncoordinated and clumsy. By unnecessary, I mean that I will find myself in situations where I'm about to trip/slip/tumble down, back, or in this case, to the left, and I'll briefly consider pausing movement and adjusting my stance as to keep me from hurting myself, but then I'll decide to move forward anyway. 

At work, my desk drawers slide open when there is any kind of substantial weight in it, and as inconvenient as it is, I've never felt strongly enough to get it fixed. Anyway, I was getting ready to leave the office yesterday when the bottom left drawer of my desk slid open. I shoved it shut, and as soon as I took a step, the drawer slid back open. So there I was, backpack on, car keys in my hand, ready to leave, when I realized there was a large desk drawer between my legs. Rather than bending over and pushing the drawer shut before continuing my journey, I decided to keep moving. Unfortunately, my body moved faster than my right leg. The right half of me fell over the drawer, taking the rest of my body with it. In an attempt to save myself, I reached out for balance. Oh boy, I've never been so unsuccessful. The first thing my hands grabbed were the plastic wall files attached to my desk. By the time I hit the floor, my right leg was still hooked onto the drawer, and I had taken two wall files and three clipboards down with me. I felt like Godzilla taking down a skyscraper. The clatter of it was loud enough to bring everyone out of their offices, including an entire family in the middle of a parent meeting. I hopped up from the floor, pretended like nothing happened and hid my embarrassment by busily cleaning up my mess.

There's a small cut and some swelling on my knee and a faint line bruise in the middle of my shin, but my leg should be back to its pasty white color in no time.

Family Matters

A couple weeks ago, Michele invited me to her baby shower. I was really touched, as I always am, when coworkers invite me to personal get-togethers. It really means a lot that my time at work goes past Office Space normalcy. As much as I enjoy the smelly children and irate parents, knowing that I've developed close relationships, albeit somewhat transitory, makes showing up every morning a little easier.

When Michele told me she was registered at Babies "R" Us, I figured shopping would be a breeze. However, as soon as I hit Jamboree Road, I was lost in the generic suburbia of Tustin. By the time Kristen and I found Babies "R" Us, I was ready for a nap. I was surprised by the size of the store. It was as big, or possibly bigger, than my local Target. I suppose it makes sense if I think of Babies "R" Us as a Target for babies. They need everything we need, but smaller, with more protective features, and for "sensitive" skin. Nevertheless, it was a daunting experience. After studying the store map, I made my way around the store and settled on a bath time gift set and a Baby Einstein: Baby MacDonald DVD.

Baby Shower Day came and I was surprisingly nervous. I've never been to a shower, and all my coworkers along with the rest of the shower attendees were 10-20 years older than me. As expected, conversations revolved around family. I listened to my coworkers talk about their husbands, their children, home maintenance, mother-in-laws, etc. I love their stories, but I never have anything to add. My family experiences dwindle down to a nasty divorce, an obsessive-compulsive mother whom I see for about half an hour on a regular day, a father who calls two or three times a week to make sure I'm doing alright, and a brother who spends his time at home locked in his room with his girlfriend. And although that sounds terribly black and white, I love my family and we still have great moments together, but never as much as I'd like.

Anyway, BSD (Baby Shower Day) was a success. It was held at Newport Landing in Newport Beach. Michele's old coworkers, new coworkers, family and friends were all there, including her father, who took pictures of anything that moved. While we waited for our food, we played two baby shower games. I dominated the baby word scramble, but failed miserably with the nursery rhymes. I was immediately at a disadvantage because I was raised by an immigrant Vietnamese mother! However, the baby word scramble won me a mug from Hawaii complete with fruity hard candy and post it notes with a hula girl. My life is now complete.

The most memorable part was the gift-opening. It's frightening to see how much crap a baby needs. Burp cloths, a separate trash bin for diapers, a portable mechanic breast pump? The portable breast pump came with a backpack and purse so you could pump milk in the car which sounds awfully distracting. I don't know if one could get a ticket for using a breast pump in the car, but I feel like that should be included in the handbook.

My favorite gift was a pink onesie that Michele's mother gave her. There was an outline of a shell on the front with the word "Opihi" underneath it. Michele explained that in Hawaii, opihi is the Hawaiian name for saltwater snails that live on rocks along the shore. The snails attach themselves to a rock and then never let go. Even the strongest crashing wave can't pull it away. Hawaiians view opihi as a delicacy, so many people go opihi picking. Since opihi are so hard to pick, and pickers must use an extra sharp knife; several people are taken into the sea every year trying to get them. Anyway, when Michele became pregnant, she and the family began calling the baby Opihi. It was such a sentimental moment and Michele teared up as she explained the background story of the onesie.

There's something incredibly endearing about seeing a family together. Listening to sisters that sound exactly the same, that have the same kind of spunky attitude, and seeing parents swelling with pride and excitement - nothing compares to that kind of genuine joy or personal connection.