I was driving to work yesterday, and did my normal stop at the intersection of Mineral Spring and Lonsdale Ave. When I head to work, it’s a busy spot, since there’s a school there and the crossing guard is always stopping cars to let the kids cross. I’m about 7 cars away from the lights, at a complete stop, and I’m looking around my front seat for my shades, since I didn’t have them in the house (those who have ever spent a decent amount of time driving with me can attest to the fact that I am always losing my shades). The sun must have hit my hair the right way because this guy walking a little boy down the sidewalk suddenly slows right down, says something to the little boy who was probably no more than about 6, and points in my direction. The little boy looks at me and gives me a huge smile, like I was the coolest freak he’d seen all day. The guy smiled and waved at me.Busy night at work last night. There were a lot of emails, and most of the staff was working on them rather than answering the phones, which meant that we were getting slammed with calls. For every email we’d reply to, it seemed like another 3 would come in, and we were barely keeping ahead of the game. The night went by so slowly. We didn’t even have any good conversations.Toronto called again. They’re looking for Eddie, trying to find out what he wants done with the bag(s?) he left in the airport during the attempt to get him down here for New Year’s. “Call Toronto,” I told him as we were saying our “goodnights” on the phone. “The little Canadian girl keeps asking where ‘Mr. McBreed’ is.”"I will,” he says. “I wonder if they’ll ship it to you?”"Why don’t you tell them you’re here, and have them ship it to us… er, you?”"Us,” he replies. “I like the way that sounded.” So did I. For a split second, we really were “us” and not separated into “my house” and “your house”. I’m trying to think of a way to tell my family exactly how serious we are. No matter what I think of, I know I’m probably going to get the inevitable “it’s too soon…” and “why can’t you find a local guy?” Those are honestly the only reasons that I haven’t said anything yet; I’m petrified of the reactions. I know my mom and Nanny really like him, but my Dad doesn’t like anyone I’ve ever brought home. I feel terrible about **not** telling them though, not so much for keeping it secret from the family, but because it makes me feel like I’m hiding our relationship (Ed’s going to say that he understands when he reads this in the morning), like I’m embarrassed about it, which is nowhere near the truth. I just don’t want to have a deep meaningful discussion about it with my family, because my family is like the Mafia - everything is a family affair, even if it doesn’t really concern them. I can vividly picture my stepmonster planning out a big foofy wedding with me in a white dress with a tiny flower girl and a matching ring-bearer, and invitations asking if people want chicken or pasta. I don’t want that. I want a simple ceremony and maybe a barbecue after. A keg of Bud and a bunch of buckets of KFC.I’ve been giving a lot of serious thought to what I usually label “future stuff” lately. Mostly, family. I don’t do kids. I can’t handle kids. If someone hands me a baby, I’m very much like one of those silly scenes in early episodes of Full House or Three Men & a Baby - I hold the thing at about arm’s lengtb from me. God forbid they start to cry. Some girls I knew were always very good with babies and couldn’t wait to have kids of their own (hell, some couldn’t even wait until they graduated), but I was never like that. Where was I going with this? Oh yes. The way I see it, I’m 25, I have little to no maternal insticts, and no desire to have kids of my own. So the deal is, once Eddie gets down here and I can start saving some cash up for it, I’m going to get my tubes tied. OooOOhh, fun, isn’t it? Yes, I know it is. I can tell that the people reading this right now are thinking, “Shit, Crystal, tell me more about your reproductive system!” My reply to that? I don’t want a reproductive system. I see no need for it if I’m not going to reproduce. I’m perfectly content to just fuck for the rest of my life, with no consequences involved.

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