My Second Big Fat NY Times Rejection, hold the half&half

It's official, the Sunday New York Times hates me, it (they?) really hates me. I was so excited to read my Letter to the Editor in the NYT Magazine that I bought the paper last night, leaving the door wide open for terrible and important world events to occur and end up on an updated front page that I would never see. I hadn't even paid for it yet when I discovered, standing right there at the dirty deli counter, that my letter had not made the cut. Nor had the letter from the CEO, which was to have been the glorious result of my Great Act of Self-Sacrifice, in which she was to have extolled the virtues of social workers everywhere - - instead, just a bunch of sappy and precious letters from people who had read the article and thought about their dead grandmother, or been reminded of the perpetual imminence of death. So now, the world will never know What I Really Needed Them To Know, which is that My Job Matters. Because I must glean a moral from every moment, this whole thing has made me aware of the issues of pride and ego. In other words, sure, I wanted the world to know about social work, but didn't a little part of me just want to get my name in lights in the New York Times and be the Big Social Work Hero?

I swear, sometimes I'd like to back my moralistic conscience into a corner and hack him to pieces with a bouillion spoon.

Anyways, bygones. I am sitting here drinking my iced coffee - - in true Irish Catholic Martyr Mother fashion, because we have been out of half&half for over a week now, I have learned to adjust to drinking it black - - and trying to figure out What I Will Do With My Day. Here's a short list of resolutions:

1. I will not go over to the other computer and sort through all the illegally downloaded tawdriness that came through my Limewire overnight. Or, if I do, I will limit myself to thirty minutes, or forty if the computer is acting up.

2. I will make progress on my novelette, allowing myself the choice of either a) continuing to transcribe what I've already written from notebook- to electronic-format or b) picking up where I last left off (I think it was June of '03) and writing more new, creative, hilaaaarious material. Or maybe even both a) and b).

3. I will also, since I went and paid for it, drudge my way through the Groomzilla-less New York Times, and I will allow myself to attempt the crossword as a respite from the novelette.

4. I will Swiffer(TM) the living room, which has begun to look like hundreds of exotic dust bunny islands adrift on a parquet ocean.


In closing, I would also like to provide another Lesson For The Day, which is this: even when one has been in a committed relationship for more than several years, and yeah yeah yeah you know you really really Love The One You're With, it is still extremely important to go on dates with your Beloved.

M. reminded me of this when he suggested that we go on a date last night. We went to see a funny movie and then had seafood lasagna and sea bass and stuffed clams and pinot grigio at a really really good Italian place in the East Village which everyone should try, even though I think it has been there for a while, and then we took a walk and got (soggy) cannolis, and then came home and watched illegally downloaded episodes of Weeds (no more Showtime here since the big cable bill cutback of July '05). And it was really great - the whole night, not the show, although the show was good too - and made me stop to appreciate how great my BF is and why I love being with him and why I will enjoy being married to him.

But this is Groomzilla, not Lovezilla or Hallmarkzilla or Sapzilla, so I will now stop with the mush and spank you all soundly and send you to bed, while I go through the NYT Magazine one more time to make sure they didn't set aside an entire section or something for my very important letter.