Chelsea loves......

I think that having a "theme" (that being 'chelsea loves _______') could be one of the reasons I am struggling with this blog. Or maybe that's just an excuse? I don't know. Maybe if I just come here and write about whatever is going on, I will be more inclined to post. Here's hoping.

Thursday night my dear friend, Erik, came to visit from Colombus. It was so good to see him. I particularly love hanging out with friends from different times in my life now that I have Zoe. They are in just as much awe of her as I am and keep saying, "I can't believe you have a baby, " or "It's so weird that this is YOUR baby!" No one in my Kansas City life really gets it in the same way. People like Erik and Martinique and Paul all knew me as a sort of different version of myself. They knew me as the swingin' single Chicago gal that traveled a lot whose dreams were of a family of her own.

It's also fun to just sit and reminisce with an old friend. Old friends remember things that I forget. And I remember things they've forgotten. It's sort of like visiting your elementary school as an adult...as soon as you lay eyes on it, you're flooded with memories. In our case this weekend it was when Erik mentioned a totally weird restaurant in Chicago called Victory's Banner. We used to take Harrison, the little boy for whom I nannied, there for french toast. The waitstaff wore saris and Birkenstocks and one of the waitresses was incredibly short and it seemed quite possible that she was a mini Pema Chodron.

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Next weekend Zoe and I are going on our first airplane together. I was initially a little nervous about flying with her alone, but quickly eased up. We're like the fucking Wonder Twins. We kick so much ass together. I don't know what I was worried about.

We're going to New York City to visit Jess. She's really going through some difficult changes, but it's wonderful knowing that I can bring to her the little person that makes her the happiest. Zoe cheers her right up.

Completed unrelated to anything in this post: I have GOT to stop saying the word "super" when someone calls and tells me that my car is ready to be picked up or to remind me of a hair appointment. "Super" is just unacceptable. I don't know where the hell I picked it up, but it stops now.