My name: Bridgett.
Nice to meet ya’. People call me B, it was an evolution of sorts as I never coined the nickname. meh. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
So thanks for stopping by. No really, thanks so much because without people reading my stuff…well, then I’d just be rambling on to no one -and that’d just be silly-. So you’re awesome. We should eat nachos together sometime. You know, talk about our favorite color and what not.
Lil’ about moi? well, I’ll tell ya’, once upon a time I thought, ‘Hey, I wanna be a lawyer!’ good idea. So I did that. Seven years later and I’m all like: I am gonna Perry Mason the crap outta this gig! Yah, let’s go get em’ with a raised clenched fist exclaiming, ‘objection!’.
Hmm…. only I didn’t do that at all. There were nary a badgered witness in my past who shrieked their scathing admission in my face; no ‘you can’t handle the truth’ kind of moments.
Truth is, more often than not I found myself sitting in depositions for 6+ hours bickering over subjects such as: “My husband hid a collection of old postcards we bought together while antiquing one summer. I know he took them just to be vindictive, and I want them back now!” umm… ok.
Oh and the money is fabulous by the way, and also so not worth it. Yeah, that five thousand dollar retainer your client paid you just bought you a one way ticket to “I’m your bitchville”. This means you’re going to be fielding about 20 missed calls precisely at dinner time from a scorned woman who’s pissed because her estranged spouse showed up 2 hours late for a visit with their kids… with the new girlfriend. No joke. Truth: People cross all kinds of boundaries when they feel they’ve paid you enough to completely dismiss them.
Somewhere amidst this mish mash of crazy, post law school and the torturous bar exam, I began teaching paralegal studies. Which I loved by the way. While I did enjoy teaching and I would like to eventually find another professor gig, only with less politics and drama. Good luck to me.
I’d sit here and run through my entire resume, but well… aint nobody got time for that, and oh yea, who cares?
So then I met this guy. The h-bee a.k.a. my marital co- conspirator.
I dig him. Few things about my hubby: I found him out aimlessly meandering, minding his own business, tending to his two cats and watering his fugly plants (there was one plant I’m not even sure if I would call it a plant? -really some sort of tree the previous owner had left behind it was so ugly. true story-. Also he’s a musician, which makes me weak in the knees for no particular reason; but for the fact that I have a vagina and I notice a similar effect on others who own a vagina. So I came along with my two kids, Myles and Cob… and I was all like: ‘hey, wanna completely flip your world into a tail spin’? So we did that, now we are a family of six, four years later. Insane, no? Life is funny.
I believe I had to go through a whirlwind of shit to truly appreciate what we have. The things we do: Kung Fo karate chop missions in the kitchen, turning off the others pandora music from the adjoining room -secretly -, sidewinder slaps atop the noggin’ as we exit the room -then plot revenge-, and brutal honesty that would burn the ass of a demon plucked fresh from hell.
We aren’t perfect but I think we’re perfect for each other. So we made people, and that’s the brood down there, in no particular order. Jameson, Cob, Myles and Nicolace.
And there we are, propped up against this giant tetanus wheel of sorts. The trees and leaves are pretty in New Hampshire in the fall, end of endearing traits -for me at least-. To each his own…
And there we are again down there, pregnant with the newest lil’ nugget, Nicolace. Yes, an updated picture is needed and happens every fall for our clan. So that’s our abridged tale for now, and I hope you will join us for more. Life is good.