It's a warning, and not a good one.

Last night I lost one of my earrings. I noticed it while I was driving home after karate class. Suddenly I realized my ear was nekkid. 

They aren't expensive earrings, but to me they are almost priceless. 

Rich bought them for me on our first date. (Our first date lasted six days. Remind me to tell you about that sometime.) We were in South Haven, on Lake Michigan. They were in a little jewelry shop on one of the piers. Just little silver dangley things with a small garnet set in each one.

I've worn them almost every day since then. Almost every day, for more than eleven years. 

I love them because they are comfortable, and small, and I can sleep in them, and talk on the phone in them. They are perfect; simple and understated, just like me, HA!

But mostly I love them because they are the first thing Rich ever gave me. The first jewelry he ever gave me (there has been more since, but other than my wedding rings and the locket he gave me on our wedding day, these earrings mean the most to me). The first "just because I really like being with you" spontaneous thing he ever did for me.

I've asked the karate studio to keep an eye out for it, but it's small. And I was all over the studio yesterday, including training in their back room. And then I stood out in the parking lot for a while talking with one of the other moms. 

I'm really sad about losing this. I was near tears last night after searching the car. It seems "significant" some how, and not in a good way.

Our ten-year wedding anniversary is next week. I can't help but feel that this is a bit "omen-ish." 

I know I could ask Rich to buy me another pair. And I know he would, an even nicer pair I'm sure. But I've already told him we can't do a fancy ten-year celebration dinner out, because funds are tight right now. I'd rather pay for therapy for Noah than dinner for us. And I'm certainly not going to spend money on jewelry when I think we are going to need to get Noah glasses next week.

So yes, it feels "omen-ish," because I know what it is. It's a warning.

A warning that I'm getting my effing period and the wicked PMS is starting to hit. Because seriously, I lost a freaking earring, not my husband.

Fracking hormones...

Maybe the only thing worse would be if I was a man!

Originally I wasn't going to talk about work on here, but considering no one reads my blog, I don't think it matters. What's a little venting among friends huh?

Although part of a larger organization, there are five of us that make up a separate company within it. Five women, consisting right now of two pregnant woman (one with twins, the other in her first trimester), one going through fertility treatments, one going through menopause (she'd be the one in charge) and me (fertility treatments - done that, pregnant - only if miracles exist, menopause - better be years away).

The truly scary part is that I may be the normal one among us right now. The only rational, clear headed, won't turn a molehill into a mountain, one of us.

Do I really need to say anything more? Men should fear us. There should be force fields up preventing anyone with the Y chromosome from entering our wing. Loud sirens should blare when we step away from our offices in to another part of the building.

Can you say WOMAN! Can you say HORMONAL! Can you say IRRATIONAL!!!!