Weekday Dish

Rebel Red

2010-02-19T10:22:00.001-05:00

I just purchased red lip gloss, because Real Simple told me to. The article said every woman regardless of skin tone should try some form of red lipstick. I usually favor nude lips and dramatic eyes, but I greatly enjoy expanding my cosmetic repertoire, so I thought, why not. One of the suggestions in the magazine was to go for gloss if you shy away from the bold effect. That seemed like the route for me, although the idea of a gloss that wasn't pretty sheer confused me. I settled on L'Oreal Paris Infallible NeverFail Lip Gloss in Rebel Red. I love it! It goes to show that it's nice to mix it up some. I love working the eye makeup, but it definitely takes effort. Putting Rebel Red on is lightening fast but shows that I'm ready to party. Bravo!

Wednesday's Pick: Grand Prospect Hall

2010-02-17T19:39:00.001-05:00

This really appeals to all of my tri-state sensibilities:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JC6AzmXrNbU

What Really Grinds Wednesday's Gears: New-Fangled Social Networking Inventions

2010-02-17T19:14:00.002-05:00

What the HELL is gmail's "buzz?"
Is buzz the new facebook? (Buzzbook)? I try to ignore that I apparently have 2 new buzzes in my buzz inbox (my buzzbox). I try to ignore the colorful little conversation bubble that draws me in. Because when I click on it, I have no idea what to do- I see that I am following people (who I've no memory of following), and some people (much fewer) are following me and I'm not sure why. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not a very entertaining buzzer.
I see my friend has been posting buzzes that I never knew about. What is this secret life he leads? Which status update am I supposed to believe? Are you painting your 2nd bedroom or are you "tired of hearing pants on the ground"!?
Twitter? Facebook? I can't keep up with everyone's virtual outlets-- I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. Good thing I off-loaded myspace. I can't believe I survived the death of Friendster. Ohmygod remember Friendster!?

Dreamy TV Woman Pick of the Week: Nanny Fine

2010-02-10T08:00:00.003-05:00

Oh Mr. Sheffffffield!
Lately I've been addicted to The Nanny reruns on Nick at Nite. Am I crazy? Because I feel crazy.

Look, I can't help it. I spent formative childhood years in Queens, NY where everyone looked and spoke like Nanny Fine. We shopped at Loehmann's. We screamed out our apartment windows, to the people on the sidewalk below. And we all dreamed of meeting and marrying a rich prince who lived in Manhattan.
After moving to eastern Long Island, I somehow managed to find the one 11-year-old girl who all the other kids at the beach club called, "the nanny" because of her accent. Her mother even looked just like Fran Fine.
I like that Fran Drescher co-created and executive produced the show, and that the show had millions of viewers and dozens of celebrity cameos during its run. I like the way Nanny Fine is a Lucy of the 90s. I also like Fran Drescher. Her personal story is about overcoming some tough stuff, which I really admire.

Pre-Nups.

2010-01-25T16:33:00.000-05:00

Not sure I agree with GFriday on the discussion around pre-nups. But not sure I disagree either.

Here’s the paragraph I’m going to break down (but let me first tell you that GF and I are coming from two veeeerrry different places on this subject):

And then there's the fact that if you do have a pre-nup, you are in some sense saying 'out loud' that divorce is possible. And who wants to admit that when they are about to get married? Maybe its naive of me, but to a certain extent, I would wonder why two people were getting married if divorce was so tangible to them.

I think that you have to say out loud that divorce is possible. Just like you have to say out loud that kids might not be possible. Or if you don’t want kids, you might end up getting one accidentally. Or you might change your mind and decide at 40 that you absolutely MUST have kids. Because anything is possible. Cancer is possible. And if I, and TheFutureMr.Monday, could sign something that would plan for our future and our finances and our potential offspring if I one of us dies, then I would. And that document exists. It’s called a will. And I am sure when I get to the point where my stuff is worth more than a thousand bucks then I will do one of those. Nobody wants to admit that when they get married they might get divorced. But we’re all more likely to get divorced than to die of cancer. Or die in a car crash – or any number of scenarios that a will might cover. In my opinion, it’s not naïve of people to think that won’t happen to them, especially someone who at least thinks enough about pre-nups to have thoroughly thought through (whew!) how they feel about them. I’m just coming from a different place than GF. I have two parents who have not only divorced each other, they have each divorced someone else. And both been taken to the cleaners. I won’t go into all the specifics, but I will be financially taking care of DaddyMonday when he can longer work. But I am the first to admit, it wasn’t just a lack of a pre-nup, it was marrying someone he shouldn’t have.

I would like to get married someday. To someone who is very wonderful and who I truly don’t deserve. Not in a million years. And divorce is a very tangible thing to me. Maybe because it influenced so much of my life. Maybe because I’m afraid TheFutureMr.Monday could one day wake up and realize what a horrible mistake he’s made.

What I actually think is more naïve than thinking you, yourself, won’t get divorced, is that people sign a pre-nup because they think things may change. But what they don’t realize is that things *may actually change* and that their pre-nup won’t be so iron-clad and there will be TONS of things they haven’t thought of. Kids, changes/reversals in earnings, inheritances, jewelry, sentimental gifts, gifts in general, paying for colleges, etc. You’re probably just going to end up battling it out in the end anyway, so why stress. Just realize that you come from a family of divorce or a family of eternal happiness and be aware of the baggage you bring into a relationship (and the baggage someone else brings) and do what you feel is right at the time. Because that’s all you ever really know.

And GF, I hope that someday you and HF have a fortune!

Help! RoadId.

2010-01-25T16:30:00.002-05:00

So I won a door price at this 10k on Saturday. It’s a $25 gift certificate to this store called Road Id. http://www.roadid.com/common/default.aspx

I’m not sure I’m so big on their products (and I run, but don’t cycle) and need some help. Anyone out there want to make a suggestion on how to spend my money? I can’t let $25 go to waste.

I’m not sure why I couldn’t have won the year’s free cookies from Sugar Momma’s. http://www.sugarmommascookies.com/

Pre-Nuptial Disagreement

2010-01-22T11:27:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I was watching the Seinfeld episode where George is about to send out his wedding invitations and desperately wants to stop the wedding from happening. After failed plans to tick off his fiancee by smoking and insulting her by asking her to sign a pre-nup, she dies from licking the toxic wedding invitation envelopes, which were very cheap and he insisted on buying. In the end, he's more happy that he's not getting married than sad that she's dead. That's odd within itself, but this is Seinfeld we're talking about here.

Anyway, the episode got me thinking about pre-nups. Elaine said that she wouldn't sign one. And I agree! I think most of my friends feel the same way. I've known a few people who've had the alternate argument-- it makes total cold, logic sense to arrange for one, and if you don't, you are the poor sap who is going to be screwed in the end.

I see where the opposing view is coming from, but just to a point. People keep citing the "50% of all marriages fail" stat, but first of all, that's not true. If you take out people who get married and divorced numerous times in their lives, the stat is only like 30%. The other major reason I hear for pre-nups is "no one who gets married thinks they are going to get divorced, but obviously, sh*t happens." Now, I don't think I'm going to get divorced, but I totally acknowledge that crazy things happen in life that you can't anticipate. It's not that I think it's *SO* out there for me (or my friends) to get divorced. What I think is more out there is the idea that we would want to not only split up, but that if we did, it would be so acrimonious that a pre-nup would've been necessary and helpful. But it's a slippery slope. If I can say that divorce could be possible, how can I say how messy it would be? We could really hate each other, and we could have an empire to divide. But I strongly doubt either one of those things will happen.

And then there's the fact that if you do have a pre-nup, you are in some sense saying 'out loud' that divorce is possible. And who wants to admit that when they are about to get married? Maybe its naive of me, but to a certain extent, I would wonder why two people were getting married if divorce was so tangible to them.

But, I am not a child of divorce. And my husband and I are not heirs to fortunes. Everyone has their own circumstance- I respect that. Just giving you my thoughts. What are yours?

Late to the party

2010-01-19T08:00:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year!

My apologies for the extended vacation; work has kicked me into the new year with brute force, to say the least. Not wanting to stay away too long, I thought I'd take a belated shot at G'Mon'y's proposed topic from last week and rattle off GirlTuesday's Top Ten 2000's. But, I also thought I'd add a little GirlFriday favorite, as well. And so- I bring you the High-Low of the decade:

2000: High: HT and I finally started dating. Good gosh I can't believe it was that long ago. Low: Losing a leader and a teammate.

2001: High: Family vacation in Maine; Low: Leaving behind a sport that had shaped my childhood.

2002: High: Gaining a sister; Low: The morning I called to get my LSAT Score.

2003: High: OSU wins the national championship; Low: Leaving behind youth, innocence, and the idyllic little place on the hill.

2004: High: A summer in Switzerland; Low: Saying goodbye to a grandfather I never really got to know.

2005: High: Gaining a best friend; Low: My first 1L year grade day.

2006: Low: Letting go of the love of my life; High: Welcoming him back in.

2007: High: Finally moving back to the same city as HT; Low: Watching OSU entire botch a national championship.

2008: High: Spending an incredible year honing my skills in legal academia; Low: Watching my big brother deploy.

2009: High: Getting Married; Low: Working my rear-end off. Over and over again.

Just because...

2010-01-15T22:43:00.000-05:00

... I can never get over how much I love this video.

Top 10 GirlFriday moments

2010-01-15T13:11:00.000-05:00

I really like GirlMonday's idea of a Top 10 list, although apparently none of the rest of you did- hahahahaha, I kid. I keep forgetting that a decade ended and a new one began. Even though I was little when the 80's became the 90's, it seems like it was treated as a way bigger deal. (I won't compare it to the changing millennium, because obviously that's its own deal.)

Anyway since it's a new decade I thought it fit to personally reflect on the last one. I mean, 10 years is a long time. A person really changes and goes through a lot in 10 years. So here we go, 10 GirlFriday special memories from the 10 years of the previous decade:

1. 2000
This was the year I became close friends with GirlWednesday, and I have to say it's probably my favorite thing about that year. Exploring street fairs and strange pastries in Chinatown, dealing with boy and roommate drama, doing anything to avoid homework, private dance parties-- I really loved it. This was also the year I found out that I got a job after graduation. GirlWednesday and I didn't understand what my job was, so at parties, we would tell people I was a 'banker', whatever that is.

2. 2001
In 2001 I graduated college (yay, first major achievement), got my first real job, and first real apartment. I definitely started to feel like an almost-adult at that time-- paying taxes will do that to you. And I had some personal tragedy along with the nation's tragedy, so I guess it really was a year marked with growing up.

3. 2002
The main thing about 2002 is that I was working in a job I really didn't like, for a variety of reasons. So, my favorite thing about that year, understandably, was a vacation I took to the West Coast. Also, I applied to grad school (I think I submitted my first application at like, midnight on December 31st, but it still counts!). I've always been proud that I identified that I was unhappy and took steps to change things.

4. 2003
Without a doubt the best thing about 2003 was moving to a new part of the country and the new friends I made there. My first night, I cried my eyes out. I thought, what an idiot I am for wanting to experience new things, I should've stayed home where my friends and family are, where everything is familiar. But in the end, I met GirlMonday, GirlTuesday, and a slew of other awesome people who have become friends for life. Would not give them up for anything. Oh yeah, I also met my husband that year. Ha!

5. 2004
2004 may have been one of the best years of my life because I was really happy with where I was-- physically, in terms of friendships and relationships, and what I was doing intellectually. And most importantly, I appreciated it. That time really helped me articulate what I want my life to be. A funny moment from that year is when I introduced now-HusbandFriday and his best friend to GirlWednesday for the first time. He thought she was funny and crazy, and she couldn't understand a word he was saying. But they really do love each other.

6. 2005
Okay so 2005 was the year I actually became a grown-up. I took on a very intense job and it totally showed me what I was made of. Also met some cool people, one of which got to the Hollywood round on American Idol this year! And, I was reunited with now-HusbandFriday after a brief hiatus, which was unexpected and wonderful.

7. 2006
That was the year it became somewhat obvious that I would marry HusbandFriday at some point; I felt really happy and certain about the whole thing. In my life up to that point, I always wondered about "how you know" when you are supposed to be with someone. When that moment came for me, it was obvious.

8. 2007
In 2007, I got engaged, which was great. When it happened, I was so shocked I wanted to throw up. I mean, I was really, really happy, but the shock was overwhelming. But it felt really good to have the thing be official and to feel like my personal life was sorted out once and for all. I've written about this before, the idea that "now that's taken care of" and I can explore who I really want to be. With my best buddy right there with me.

9. 2008
I got married, so that's an obvious one. I also spent the summer in a new city, in a part of the country I had never even been to before, and I really enjoyed that experience. The wedding was wonderful and the being married was even better. Also I went to Hawaii on my honeymoon, and aside from minor sicknesses and intense fatigue from the wedding activities, it was pretty dope.

10. 2009
2009 just happened so I have a lot of good memories. One that sticks out in my mind is going to Las Vegas with my hubby and my brother. They ruled at the craps table and I liked playing the slots. It was my first time in Vegas as a booze-drinker and I was amazed that they brought free drinks to you! Also stayed at the Encore, which was amazing, saw Le Reve, also amazing, and had a wonderful massage and mani/pedi at the spa.

It's crazy how different life is, how different I am, and how many things I have experienced in the last 10 years. I hope the next decade is just as crazy.

Top 10 Worst New “Words” of the 2000s.

2010-01-12T09:06:00.002-05:00

In honor of all the jargon and buzzwords and slang that the 2000s have coined, I’m giving a shout-out to the worst. I’ve intentionally not included some of the worst offenders because they’re not actually words, but rather celebrity uni-names. So quickly, let’s all join in to hate Brangelina, Speidi, Bennifer, Bennifer II, and everyone’s favorite, TomKat. Yuk. Now, on with the show.

10. Staycation- you're either staying or you're going. Does anyone actually take days off of work, pull the kids out of school and spend all day going to museums and eating at local places they’ve never tried before? I doubt it (email me if you have, as I’m dying to meet you). So travel industry and the media, you can both stop using this word like it means something to us.

9. Misunderestimated – my favorite made-up Bush word. There are lots of others (internets – plural), but they’re all better with context. This one just stands alone. Let’s not use this again, kay. And let’s stop pronouncing Iraq as I-ROCK.

8. Bromance – I kind of understand the meaning behind this merged word (not that “bro” is a good word either), but it’s one the world can do without. There is no need to sexualize a relationship between two guy friends. They’re just friends. Got it?

7. Douche – There is some chance that this is really a late 90s word, but I’m including it on this list because it’s so terrible. There are people out there who still use this to mean someone who is lame. Please don’t, it’s actually every so slightly offensive and a little vulgar. Let’s pretend we have moved past our adolescence.

6. Synergy – This is actually my LEAST favorite business buzzword. And the list is long and the competition fierce, so you must know how much I hate it. This word means absolutely nothing and has gone from being a B-school, well-educated, trend word to being something anyone will throw around to sound cool. Listen people, you don’t sound cool, you don’t even know what synergy looks like. No one does. So stop using it.

5. Peeps – Don’t get me started on this. Please don’t say peeps. Or homies (God forbid). Just say friends. That’s what they are. You do not have a posse. You do not roll. You don’t drive an Escalade and have an entourage. You drive a Civic and communicate through Facebook. These people are not your peeps.

4. Bling – See above. And as an appendix, you do not play in the NBA, you do not have tats (number 11), and the gold-plated dollar sign necklace you’re wearing isn’t bling. It’s cheap. And tacky. And 1998. So stop.

3. ShizNit – Where in the world did this come from?? If there is anyone out there who occastionally throws out a “this is the shiznit” then please stop. Immediately.

2. Frenemy – You’re either friends. Or enemies. You can’t be both.

TIE: 1a. Snap! I hate to admit I still use this. But I’m stopping. It’s overplayed and not timeless (see Duh! circa 1997). Let’s all agree to move on to something else.

1b. Ginormous. This is repetition at it’s worst. If it’s gigantic, it’s probably enormous. I don’t really know if there’s much of a difference between the two. They’re synonyms, they both mean really big. Why on earth would we combine them to make a new word. Now we have three words that mean the same thing. If anyone can explain to me the exact size measurement difference between gigantic, enormous and ginormous, I would love to hear it.

Honorable Mentions:

Terror – Hard to fight a war on an emotion. Emotions don’t have tanks and guns, so I’m guessing we’re going to beat up on “terror” pretty quickly. Let’s use this one appropriately. K?

McMansion – I secretly “get” the reasons this word became so popular. Houses have gotten huge. But let’s give up putting Mc in front of anything. We don’t need to publicize the clown anymore than we already do.

Cougar – We are not cougars. You are not “cubs.” Do you hear me Courtney Cox??

Shallow and Stupid, or Realistic and Savvy?

2010-01-08T11:58:00.001-05:00

So, we're at the time in our society where women are told they can be everything and anything they want to be (however technically true this is). I have goals, many things I want to accomplish, and the certainty that my female status won't hurt-- and may even help-- my chances of achieving them. I have the desire and the means to focus on what I want and to work hard to get it. [Most] women, in many countries are afforded this luxury, and I sure do appreciate it.

However, there are moments when I think, wouldn't it be nice to be married to some toilet paper heir, or something, and not have to try so hard all the time? That's not what I really want in my heart of hearts. I have no desire to marry rich and simply enjoy the spoils. I think some girls do. Especially the girls who may not think they *have* other options, like the brains or the resources or whatever. I sometimes pity 'pretty' girls on the party scene-- the ones who seem to actually care what 'kind of car' a guy drives? (I thought that was something that only existed in movies!) But you know, maybe these girls are not so stupid. I don't mean the ones who put their energy into trying to bed Tiger Woods or get half-naked on a reality show. The ones that use their sexuality, or femininity, or whatever, and focus on finding a mate to survive, or thrive, rather. They may not be dumb, but I still feel bad for them-- at least the ones that don't think they themselves are worth it-- worth the value to develop into meaningful contributors to society with unique talents and skills. That part of it makes me kind of sad.

Thoughts?

Coming Next Week...

2010-01-04T17:22:00.002-05:00

I want to invite everyone to do a top-ten list of the decade next week (only if you want to). I'll kick it off on Monday.

My Vols

2010-01-04T17:16:00.002-05:00

I'm embarrassed. I'm disappointed about the season and I'm not looking forward to the Kansas game next weekend. Do they have enough players left on the team?

http://sports.espn.go.com/ncb/news/story?id=4788521

The Land of the Pines

2009-12-21T16:54:00.002-05:00

As many of you are aware (and some more intimately aware than others) a massive snowstorm ripped across the East Coast last weekend. Well, before it hit the Virginia, DC, NY, Rhode Island, Connecticut area, it devastated the Western North Carolina region. My part of the world sees about 2-4 inches of snow a year. We’re at about 2500 feet and many of the higher elevations around us see up to a foot over the course of the winter. The last big snow here was the “Blizzard of ‘93” which dumped 18 inches on Asheville and 25 inches on my home in East Tennessee. I was out of school for two weeks, it was fantastic. Anyway, this all leads me to say big snows are rare and as true Southerners we are completely unprepared. As it turns out I am the only one on my block with a ‘snow’ shovel (thanks Momma Monday!). As of Saturday at about noon, we had 17 inches of snow at the house. It was amazing. Until the power went off. And that was Friday about 3 pm. It didn’t come back on until last night at 7. It is impossible to enjoy 17 inches of snow when you can’t get out of the neighborhood, you have no heat/power, and every pine tree this side of Raleigh is creaking and cracking. I felt like Laura Ingles Wilder. I went to bed at 8 and got up with the sun. The only thing to do was keep myself busy outside, shoveling, sledding, and walking the dog. So here are a few pictures of my weekend! Merry Christmas to you all, please have a wonderful holiday and be safe.

How Cute Are These Boots!

2009-12-18T15:10:00.001-05:00

Today I thought I'd share my opinion on some of the commercials of the day!

Okay, I think the GAP 'cheer' commercials are awful, with the exception of the following, which I LOVE:

I'm a sucker for a nine-year old girl with 'tude. Anyone who has met my cousin knows why. I also really like this Coco Chanel Mademoiselle ad. I'm usually not a fan of young Hollywood ingenue-types, but for some reason I don't really have a problem with Keira Knightley. Cutie pie, I say! Love the song, and I'm now realizing through my research here that it's Joss Stone singing. Well done!

I can't decide how I feel about this Amazon ad. I really like the song, but the first few times I saw the commercial, I was confused about what the product was. Then when I saw that it said 'Kindle', I kind of got it. The next time I saw it, I realized that the point is that you can download a book in 60 seconds, and books take you away to magical places. I think it's cool the way the colors and fabrics change into the different scenes, but something doesn't work for me. I think the magician get-up at the end is the most off-putting.

I believe that Target has been a real innovator when it comes to great advertising, and a lot of other companies are trying desperately to copy their look-and-feel. However, I really don't like these new "Chestnuts roasting..." Target ads, which are sort of a 'cynical' take on Christmas:

I love Christmas in an unadulterated, joyful way. I don't mind realism in holidays, but I thought the following Target commercial managed to address that in a much cuter way:

I think I just relate to that chick, being a young married myself. I also adore the ads that addressed the economic situation in a way that actually made me feel hopeful and upbeat-- who would think a TV ad could do that?

Okay, now to the commercial I truly detest over all others. I think it is complete pretentious hipster nonsense. Here is the extended version, I hope you hate it as much as me.

Thoughts?

Reprise of metro commuting rage

2009-12-15T06:00:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry. I know one of my first rants on this blog had to do with my hatred of public transportation. Perhaps as part of my new year's resolution (in addition to eating better and exercising more), I will work on being the happy-go-lucky, perky, upbeat version of myself that doesn't stoop so low as to engage in such weekly bitchfests. But, until then, I give you my top ten most-hated things about wmata.

10. Middle-aged women who wrap their arms around the poles and read the paper so that you can't possibly hold on.
9. Anyone speaking on a blue tooth headset while riding a train. Not only will your signal cut in and out-- you look absolutely bat s#$t crazy talking to your self. Please stop.
8. Any man over the age of 25 who head bops to their i-pod.
7. The people who sit on the aisle seat even though the window seat is empty just so they a) don't have to share, and b) can get off as soon as humanly possible when the train stops.
6. People who don't give up their seats for senior citizens, or pregnant women. Have some decency. Cripes.
5. Corrolary to 6: People who act inconvenienced by the existence of a stroller, wheelchair, or motor scooter that wants to take their prized position leaning by the door. Get over yourself and get out of the way.
4. In contrast, anyone who brings a bike on the metro during the no-bike hours deserves all the mean looks they get. So do the stupid station managers who failed to stop them. Our tax dollars at work.
3. The days when I miss the express guy at the top of the escalators and have to stare at the floor to avoid awkward eye contact during my morning commute.
2. Venturing down to the platform after 8 pm and finding a wait time of more than 20 minutes. Honestly, my day has been long enough- why do you have to inflict MORE torture, metro.
And finally,
1. People who shove their way through to the door when the train hasn't even stopped yet. I still hate these people.

J. Crew

2009-12-14T11:49:00.002-05:00

Went to the annual J Crew warehouse sale here this weekend. Freakin’ amazing. I used to buy their stuff all the time when I was younger (I mean really younger. I wore their clothes in middle school – back in the days when you could get a shirt for $15 and jeans were reasonable. This was one of the few places that catered to skinny people with no boobies. MommaMonday and I used to drive to ATL the day after Thanksgiving to shop).

Anyway, as usual, I digress.

We have a J Crew distribution center and warehouse here in town. Actually it’s only about 2 miles down from the house. Each year in December they open up the warehouse for a shopping free-for-all. There is a Friends and Family sale from 8-10 and the general public is let in about 10. I lined up last year at 8:45 and was about 30^th in line. Pickings were good but slim and I made some amateurish mistakes (no dressing rooms available, and I didn’t wear clothes that allowed for trying on in public. I ended up with a pair of capris and two tanks tops that didn’t fit). This year, I had a better plan. I got there at 8:45 again (no sense in being out of the top 50 in line. They let the first 50 in then number 51 has to wait for someone to get through. That means while you stand outside in the freezing cold there are 50 people rummaging through your stuff). When I got there a guy walking out of a side door to the warehouse handed me a Friends and Family pass and I got to go right in! wooohoo! I’ve got to figure out where to get these for next year. Anyway, it was about 10 times the size of the sale last year. There were probably 15 rows of boxes 15 deep and each one was filled to the brim with closeouts, overstocks, samples, returns, and assorted miscellaneous. When you come in you get a garbage bag and a price sheet. Price sheet goes as follows (I’ll summarize): tanktops: $5; sweaters: $10; coats: $30; wedding dresses (priced as marked: $50-$100; cashmere sweaters: $15; shirts-short sleeve: $8, long-sleeve:$10, crewcuts: $5, accessories: $1.

Wowzers. I left there with a wallet (retail $25), three cashmere sweaters, three long sleeved tshirts, two tanktops, a headband and about 47 belts. Oh and a skirt. And a work shirt. And a button down. Or two….

Amazing. I encourage you all to come visit and join me next year! I should have taken pictures. I also got shoppers elbow from frantically digging through boxes to the bottom and had to ice it Saturday night. Heh. Totally worth it.

Fishes

2009-12-14T11:45:00.001-05:00

This is a pretty decent blog, although I would go broke trying to keep up with all their recommendations and suggestions. GW – you might like this if you don’t know of them already. It’s got a wedding background, but seems to forget that these days (which is good!).

http://twofishesartistry.blogspot.com/

Sigh.

2009-12-11T09:39:00.002-05:00

Another a show I love canceled. I appreciated Flight of the Concords not just for the funny songs they created, but the story lines and the comedy moments were really great.

But I will be fine as long as HBO brings back Big Love. Which it is in January. That one is truly one of my faves. If you are looking for something new to get into, please get these on DVD. When I first started watching this show, I thought my main attraction to it would be the groups of people portrayed-- polygamists, Mormons-- because I find myself empathizing with them and their sometimes outsider status. But like any other good drama, you find yourselves identifying and rooting for these characters in ways that transcend their labels. Isn't that the best kind of entertainment? Bravo. Plus, I love Margene's clothes.

Wednesday's Movie Marathon

2009-12-09T08:00:00.006-05:00

This past Thanksgiving weekend my family and I had a movie marathon weekend. First we gorged on movie trailers, which was extremely exciting. Then we spent an hour or so at Blockbuster- the new releases isle. Three movies chosen. The second night we played more trailers off the Movies On Demand menu. One movie chosen. The third night we were in the mood for something spooky, but not gory.
Here are my thoughts, from least favorite to most enjoyable.

FRANKLYN
I have no idea what this movie is about.

It was chosen because it's description in the "On Demand" menu said it was about parallel worlds, which is usually an easy win with me. However, in this case the eerie, dark world (think "Dark City," only not nearly as good)- though beautiful- made absolutely no sense to me until I read the Wikipedia entry about the movie. And then there's Eva Green who's suicidal with an imaginary red-haired twin.

Ryan Phillippe in the evil alter-world. I think it was a drug-induced dillusion, though cannot be certain.

ANGELS AND DEMONS

It was fun, certainly exciting-- albeit heavy-handed in a number of ways (including the initial anti-Vatican messages, book-ended with pro-Christianity sentiment) in that true Hollywood style where nothing's subtle. But it was a fast-paced scavenger hunt through Rome, with lots of cinematic moments. Plus, I still like Tom Hanks. Plus, my parents have a BlueRay DVD player.

THE TAKING OF PELHAM 1 2 3
I'm so glad Denzel swore off love scenes. Sigh.

This was a good movie! As a New Yorker, I find the idea of out-of-control subway cars to be very very scary!
And John Travolta sort of looks like a the long-lost (gay) member of U2. And that's entertaining!

TRICK R' TREAT

This was our scary-movie fix. The movie covers Halloween in suburbia. It's boo-scary and cringing, terrifying fear at once, with a vintage-horror feel. There's teenagers, creepy high school principals, local folklore, zombie kids, and sexy vampires.

THE FALL (BY TARSEM)

Let me just take all the credit up front and let you know that this was MY Blockbuster pick. My family was wary of my choice, but once this movie started, everyone became pulled into this amazingly vivid story.
And it has since become one of my all-time favorite movies.

Click on the movie's name above to watch the trailer.

I am a sucker for spectacle and fantasy and stories within stories. This is all of that-- and it has a plot! And it takes place in 1940s Los Angeles. And it stars Lee Pace (of "Pushing Up Dasies") and when he's the Blue Bandit, he's wearing eye liner and normally I'm not into that kind of thing but my goodness it works here.

It's one of the most beautiful movies I've ever seen, so here are some pictures.

Steep. And Cheep.

2009-12-08T09:14:00.003-05:00

Sorry GirlTuesday – I’m not trying to usurp your day, I had some technical difficulties yesterday and am trying to get this in today.

Check this out. It’s my new favorite daily addiction…I mean website. www.steepandcheap.com

Oh and that reminds me. Somehow I’ve inadvertently ended up training for a marathon. Whaa…whaaaa…you say. Yep. I’ve joined up with two girls I know to run a couple of times a week and turns out they’re in training. We’ve gotten up to our 7 mile run on the program, but there is talk of an 18 mile one. I think that’s the weekend I might be out of town. I can never understand the fascination with marathons. It doesn’t seem like the best way to spend 4 or 5 or 6 (more likely!) hours. I would probably rather punish my body by watching a Lifetime movie marathon (not that those hours would really be punishment at all, right GW?!) than enduring multiple grueling hours of jogging. Blech. But who knows, I reserve the right to change my mind. But I will never get to this point: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=mccluskey/091123

The Grocery Store

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I just want to say I luv luv luv the day after I go to the grocery store, but I’m not so fond of day 6.

I was at the store on Saturday (after the 7 mile run in the 20 degree weather – good thing I didn’t run into anyone I knew covered in mud from my ass-busting and wearing a bunch of colorful layers that don’t really match. And a hat with earflaps. But I digress…). I went in to do some weekly shopping and my first stop after fruit and veggies was in the Wheat Thin isle. I call it that because I try to resist everything else in the aisle and get what I’m there for. No Oreos for me. No Danish Wedding Cookies (ever had em? Mmmm!). No little Elves tempting me. Just the Thins please (which I am thoroughly addicted to and try to convince myself are healthier than chips). Anyway, for the first time I noticed the sizes of the boxes. Well not the sizes, the boxes are all the same size, but the content weight is different. The box of Wheat Thin Bigs was only 8 oz, as was the Wisconsin Cheddar flavor. The Parmesan Basil was 8.5 oz, same as the Whole Wheat. And the Regulars topped in at a whopping 9 oz. What is going on here??!? Anyway, while I wanted a flavor, I went with the regulars to get an extra ounce, but am now caught reflecting on all those times I was cheated. Has it always been this way or is corporate America coming up with innovative (albeit somewhat sneaky) ways to lessen the economic pinch? Anyone?

I tried to go undercover at the store last night to get some pictures for you, but it’s supposed to snow here this week so it was a madhouse. Welcome to the South in the winter. It isn’t our best feature.

Turn about is fair play

2009-12-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

So, HT and I have decided that our role in purchasing presents for our nephew is to spoil him wrotten with presents that annoy his parents. Actually, that's not ENTIRELY true-- we've done well so far at just forcing his dad to fold 4 dozen cardboard bricks and make his mom blow up the giant inflatable bowling set. His first christmas we gave him books, and I'm always a sucker for tot-sized Ralph Lauren clothing. . . but this Christmas, we're pretty sure we're crossing the line towards annoying. I can't say for certain lest his mom or dad venture this way before the 25th, but I'm fairly sure that we're well on our way to being crazy Aunt and UncleTuesday. I'm sure that 5, 10, or 15 years down the road when BigBrotherTuesday is picking out presents for our currently-imaginary little ones or digging up stories from my youth which our children can hold against them, I may regret it. But for now, I find some sort of odd pleasure out of knowing how loud and obnoxious this year's gift will be. I guess sibling rivalries never really die, they just take new forms. :) Love you much, BigBrother.

Tim Tebow Drinking Game

2009-12-04T13:09:00.000-05:00

I want to apologize to anyone who has no idea who Tim Tebow, (sub)Urban Meyer or Verne Lundquist are. I'm really excited about the big game tomorrow, and I thought this was really funny:

In honor of Tebow's sheer awesomeness, we give you the Tebow SEC Championship Drinking Game!

* Drink every time Tebow's called "a leader," then salute.
* Drink every time Tebow's called a "special athlete," then yell "Tiiiimmmmmmmmay!"
* Finish your drink if the announcers suggest Tebow should win the Heisman again this year.
* Drink every time Tebow points to the sky. Then realize the only reason the sky hasn't fallen is the strength of his pointing.
* Drink every time Tebow references God. Or himself. Tom-A-to. Tom-ah-to.
* Drink every time he's shown on the sidelines flapping his arms like a bird to pump up the crowd.
* If (when) Tebow actually takes flight, finish your drink and do a shot.
* Drink every time Tebow's on camera for no reason when the Florida defense is on the field.
* Drink every time Tebow is seen screaming with his helmet off.
* Drink every time they show a "I Heart Tebow" sign in the stands.
*Drink every time Tebow is called "a warrior."
* Shot every time they mention his experience as missionary.
* If they mention him performing circumcisions in the Philippines while he was a missionary - Chug your beer, do a shot of Patron.
* Drink every time Meyer touches Tebow. Finish the beer if he puts his arm around Tebow.
* Drink every time they show Tebow's face black. If you can read the bible verse, take a double shot. Take a triple shot if Verne actually quotes the bible verse.
* Drink if they reference "The Promise". Take a double if they play the whole thing. Take a triple if they show the plaque at Florida Field.

(Disclaimer: Playing the Tebow drinking game may well result in death. So don't do it. Ever. Not even in jest. The content above this disclaimer is a joke, not a suggestion. If you're dumb enough to do it, just pray Tebow is nearby. Only he can save you. Him or a local hospital with a stomach pump.)

Norway Spruce Trees

2009-12-03T12:33:00.002-05:00

So for our Reception Joe and I bought a total of 300 Norway Spruce Trees to give away as favors when people left that night. They were nicely wrapped in a cute container and it even had instructions on how to make a bird feeder with the plastic part once you planted your tree.

(We were going for the green idea)

Well everyone loved the trees and took one or maybe two on there way out. So what was left I was really trying to give everyone around 10 to plant! I mean come on free small spruce trees to plant in your yard or in your favorite part of town!

So since we have come home we now have a refrigerator stocked full of Norway Spruce trees and everywhere we go we keep spotting out places we can plant a tree. We have tried a few places and either they have restrictions on planting or it wont grow. Sad!

I think we will just have to grow them in our apartment and see what kind of jungle we live in in the next year while they grow :)

Tree Lighting!

2009-12-02T18:08:00.001-05:00

Dreamy TV Man Pick of the Week: Buy More

2009-12-02T17:52:00.004-05:00

It's Chuck! Or in "real life," Zachary Levi."

I just want everyone to know that I tripped over this man's foot today while getting into the elevator at work today and he was very nice-- even self-deprecating-- about it.

Wednesday's Weekend: What Not to Wear, Really

2009-12-02T08:00:00.001-05:00

This July I fractured my ankle and was forced to wear a giant, bulky air cast for weeks. I wobbled around Manhattan like a cripple, developed new-found appreciation for this city's handicapped population, and new-found appreciation for New Yorkers in general, who were so kind and often accommodating and helpful.

I was frequently stopped by fellow pedestrians to discuss my injury, and so they could share their personal stories. Many told me I'd develop back pain from my balance being thrown; they said the pain and swelling in my ankle would come back periodically for months; some said it'd be years before I would be fully without pain.

There was one side effect, however, of which no one warned me: my fractured ankle left me suddenly fashion impaired.

After the cast came off in August, I could only wear comfortable flats. And nearly all the work pants I own are tailored for heels. And wearing skirts with flats made me feel dowdy. So I began wearing jeans to work. And jeans led to comfy T-shirts. Every once in a while I'd wear jeans and T-shirts and sneakers. And one morning I woke up and realized I didn't dress like a TV gal anymore, and worse-- I couldn't remember how to dress. I couldn't remember what clothes made me feel happy, or confident. I began to wonder if I ever felt confident in my work clothes and I couldn't remember a time that I did. And even worse-- I realized that I was hiding. Even though I was really into my work (going into caves!), I inadvertently didn't put myself out there for recognition or promotion. I didn't want to encounter anyone important, so I stayed well below the radar.

One day soon after my revelation, I admitted this to my sister. She couldn't understand why I hadn't come to her sooner. My sister has really great style, has an impeccable eye for colors and textures and shapes. She is also an artist, with her own clothing and jewelery line (see Mylie). She reminded me that one needs to dress for the job she wants... She told me she wanted to come into the city and go through my closet with me to help get my life back on track. And I let her. Below is a photo essay of this experience.

Closet Before:

Shoes before:

Step One: Pull all the shoes out and evaluate.

Did I really need these?

Step Two: Pull all clothes out.

Step Three: Try everything on. Sister shows you how it's done.

Step Four: Make a list of things that go together, and a list of things you need. Here, little sis is hard at work.

Step Five: Eat. This is a tiring process.

Step Six: Make a bag of things to give away.

End Results:

The happy ending to this makeover fairytale is that I didn't have to buy anything new! Almost everything I needed was already there- I just needed to get rid of the sloppy stuff, set some rules (no blue jeans to work!).

Coaching Carousel

2009-12-01T12:01:00.002-05:00

Yesterday it was Charlie Weiss; today it's Bobby Bowden. Dan Hawkins was lucky enough to survive, and folks like Rich Rodriguez and Mark Richt have at least another year to prove their worth (at least as far as predictions hold at the moment). As the NCAA football season comes to a close this weekend and we enter the brief down time before the bowl season begins, the coaching carousel has entered full swing. For those of you who, like me up until probably 10 years ago thought that the college football season lasted a mere 14 weeks with the exception of the new years bowl games, you are sorely mistaken. This is the start of the gossip season; with fans and press taking out their frustrations and boredom on the pages of ESPN.com's discusison pages, local newspaper websites, or, in the cases of some truly avid fans, their own blogs. The coaching carousel fills the void between awards shows; then come the 30-some odd bowl games; then recruiting news occupies the ether from the final play of the national championship game until February signing day, and finally, the long, cold winter sets in until the Spring Games arrive. In the world of 24-hour news cycles, football fans can be thankful that the internet has stretched the glorious 14 weeks of fall for at least a few more months of the year.

When I started this post, I'd planned to make fun of the people who know and follow all of this stuff. But, having written it, I have to say, I'm sad to see the season end. Perhaps I'll go check out the latest rumors to bide the time. . .

In case you haven't seen it already

2009-12-01T08:00:00.002-05:00

I know I'm not original in any way by posting this, but I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the muppets. My holiday season officially kicks off with my annual post-Thanksgiving viewing of A Muppet Christmas Carol, and this video was a pleasant early present this year :).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgbNymZ7vqY

James Perry for Mayor

2009-11-27T12:22:00.001-05:00

I am loving this ad.

He wears izods, I wear t-shirts

2009-11-27T08:00:00.001-05:00

I implore you to check out this cover of Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me" by Butch Walker and the Black Widows that I'm obsessed with. Click here and scroll down a little to the Music section on the right to play it.

Wednesday's Exciting Moments in TV Production: Last Night a DJ Saved Our Lives

2009-11-25T08:00:00.003-05:00

My producer friend and I, who I've mentioned in previous posts, were off on another TV ADVENTURE this week-- celebrating this year's International Emmy Awards. No, we weren't invited to the awards ceremony, but to the after party. My friend's tight with this year's DJ... So we kind of sneaked in the back door...

Lately it's been feeling like the only way to get anywhere is by sneaking in the stage entrance-- pulling favors, weaseling our way into one situation or another. It's definitely more exciting that way. In this case, it was who we knew-- and it's always good to know the DJ.

Here we are in the DJ booth!

Life is certainly a journey when you're hanging out with DJ Journey! Before the event I said, "You know, we're not used to getting gussied up like this..." He said, "Well you better get used to it!"

I LIKE YOUR ATTITUDE, JOURNEY.

Oops, here we are with a Rod Stewart look-alike!

Was this the weirdest night ever? The answer is, yes. Yes it was.

And do you recognize this guy from the Crest commercial? Very nice lad.

The important thing is that we set out to network and though, perhaps a combined 6 limey gimlets got between us and really shelling out those business cards, together we handed out a total of 5 cards! And we have some creepy memories!

(Good thing the music was amazing).

Giving Thanks

2009-11-24T00:01:00.001-05:00

As we head in to Thanksgiving week, I wanted to pass along the top five items I'm thankful for this year.

5. Being employed: For as much as I've allocated my words on this page to bitching about work and my lack of weekends and how difficult adjusting to the "real world" of legal practice is, I've also seen far too many facebook status messages from friends and acquaintances facing uncertainties of the economy. I've mentored law students who look at me fearfully when I ask what kind of job they'd like and they can only answer "any job." So I'm thankful for colleagues I respect and appreciate, and an office to return to each day. At least for now.

4. Having my family safe on solid ground: My BigBrotherTuesday is among the many wonderful men and women of our Armed Forces who spent the past year thousands of miles from home protecting our country, and I'm very thankful that he gets to spend this holiday season here with his family.

3. Quiet Sunday afternoons: Perhaps a corollary to number one. The hectic pace at which I careened through the summer months has made me truly appreciate the weekends when I have the ability to sit in my sweatpants until 2 pm and cleaning, doing laundry, making yummy breakfast, and talking to my parents on the phone. Some of the best days are the ones spent doing very little.

2. Old friends: HT and I have had multiple opportunities in the past year to reunite and reconnect with friends from various stages of life, whether it be childhood friends, college classmates, or former colleagues, the number of random but touching encounters we've had continue to grow. And in those moments, we found ourselves falling back into exactly the way things were 5, 10, or in some cases even 15 years ago, and I can't think of much better than having such deep bonds of friendship.

1. New Beginnings: Last year was the start of a unique phase life in which HT and I are starting to make our own holiday traditions. And for as much as I have whined this year about split holidays and dealing with the logistics of being away from home, I'm learning that my home, our home, is really and truly together. It won't be smooth, and it will keep changing over the course of at least the next 5 years or so, if not longer, but it's a great adventure to be embarking on, and I'm thankful to have such a wonderful partner on that journey.

Long Day

2009-11-23T16:07:00.001-05:00

I’ve been up since 2:30. A.M. (I wish it was PM, that would be a nice thing to write about, eh? Although probably very uninteresting….). I am not a fan of getting up early, but don’t really mind it when I can get my early event over with and relax through the rest of the day. This is not one of those days. I got up, drove 2 and a half hours to the airport, flew for an hour, and then hopped in the car for another 3 hour drive. Then went to work. Blech. And the worst part is…..I saw someone I know at the airport.

I HATE seeing people I know from high school. For those of you who know me well, you know that I avoid, at all costs, having anything to do with this part of my life. I didn’t really enjoy high school, didn’t really get a whole lot out of it, and other than one very, very dear friend, I couldn’t care less about the 375 other people who had to struggle through the fairly miserable existence alongside me. I played a lot, I mean A LOT, of soccer in high school, which meant I wasn’t around in the evenings and on weekends to have a normal high school experience and make a lot of friends at my particular school. I was about the same height I am now, but only about 80 pounds. Dripping wet. So I wasn’t anything to look at. I got decent grades, but was really quiet, and overall, just didn’t stand out. Meh.

Anyway, I was always envious of the people who seemed to be living a charmed high school existence and knew that once I could make it through those four years there was more out there for me. So I moved away and never looked back. Now, unfortunately, my entire family, minus MommaMonday, still lives there. This means that I always run the risk of running into someone I know when I go back (reason number 394 not to go to the Wal-Mart in town). Which is pretty regularly. So far I’ve managed to stay under the radar. Until today.

As sad as this is, I’m still young enough and immature enough to take some small amount of glee in people who look drastically different than they did in high school (and I, of course, mean look worse). The girl that I ran into, Emily, was fairly popular and well-liked, although I was never sure why. She was always one of those people who seemed like she was trying too hard to fit in and be popular when there was nothing really outstanding about her. Nice enough, smart enough, but she just reeked of popular-girl desperation. So here she was in the Orlando airport this morning with her slightly overweight husband and downright adorable baby. She’s put on some baby weight (but not a whole lot, luckily! She’s only about 5 feet tall, so not a lot of room to spare). Immediately upon recognizing her, I started in on my duck-and-run tactics. Childish, I know (what part of this whole thing doesn’t just reek of immaturity, sad) but I have a very strong desire to never, ever, be seen by anyone from that part of my life again. I’d rather they all just think I evaporated. And it certainly didn’t help that we both looked like we’d been up since the wee hours (glasses instead of contacts, tennis shoes with jeans, and partially wet ponytail).

Anyway, I’m rambling. Which is what I do on little to no sleep. Suffice to say it was sad to run into someone I know (we never made eye contact or spoke), but it was even worse that I can’t be a big girl about it.

Miley Cyrus, what is your problem?

2009-11-20T12:49:00.001-05:00

I just came across this gem about how Miley Cyrus is not into Twilight. First, she says she's going to "ruin Radiohead" because they didn't feel like meeting her at an awards show. Good luck with that, Miley. Then she says how she doesn't find Robert Pattinson appealing at all. She later apologized for that lovely, umprovoked comment. Then she says she has never listened to Jay-Z, even though she's making money off of that premise with her "Party in the USA" song. Now, she's saying how vampires and wererwolves don't do it for her. I can understand if she was trying to maybe be self-deprecating or something? But she's just rude. All of these incidents together prove it. Screw you, Miley. Or rather your real name, "Destiny". Awesome.

UPDATE: I just read that Miley's tour bus crashed and killed a person today. I feel sorry for her, but I wonder if she herself even feels bad. She acts so spoiled and entitled, I'd be surprised if she even felt sadness over it. Lets hope so.

RIP, Eastwick

2009-11-20T08:10:00.002-05:00

It was probably inevitable, and I shouldn't be so surprised, but I am crushed that the show Eastwick has been canceled. It's not like it was great, but I thought it was watchable. And I am a sucker for any show taking place in a charming New England town. What's really annoying is that even though the story lines weren't incredible, I'm still curious about what was going to happen, and now I will never know.

Dreamy TV Woman Pick of the Week: The Good Wife

2009-11-18T14:00:00.000-05:00

I love this private investigator! What a bad ass! She is gorgeous and smart and drinks like a dude, and always wears high leather boots.

I also love her depth-- though she's tough and confident, she is not above being surprised or frustrated, like when she's under the L train, cars whizzing by-- and she's got her telephoto lens out and she's trying to get a shot of a license plate but the subject drives away before she can...

Wednesday's Exciting Moments in TV Production: Our Cups Were Half Empty

2009-11-18T10:30:00.004-05:00

Once upon a time, the big entertainment company we work for used to keep our kitchens stocked with chips, cookies, granola bars, coffee, and milk. The cabinets were always well stocked, snacks sometimes varied (Doritos Baked Lays or Baked Cheetos, 100 Calorie Oreos or 100 Cal Chips Ahoy!), and this office distraction quickly became a frequent topic of conversation, and soon... an obsession.

Our kitchen stock lady (every floor had one) was on the ball. She got new shipments before we ran out. There were so many snacks, we had to eat some of the supplies just so the order would fit in the cabinets. We would have tasting parties, where we'd sit around the kitchen counter and taste the different flavors of granola bars (almond? or honey nut?) to determine which one was the office favorite. We sent around email reviews of the different coffees- there was a "jungle blend" that seemed to appease even the most picky of coffee connoisseurs.

We remember this period as the golden age. The time before people from other floors realized our abundance and began stealing entire boxes of our snacks. But once this started happening, it was as though the floodgates had opened. People started studying what our office hours were, and would come by to steal our food after hours. A few times, they were caught: once a man from a different floor came and took an entire carton of milk, and walked away with it; another time a girl came by and walked away with as many boxes of coffee pods as she could carry. Our 4th floor, west-elevator bank area became known, generally as, "the kitchen."

Our stock lady responded by having locks put on the all cabinets. Then the editors from the 5th floor learned how to pick them with safety pins. We began hiding boxes of snacks under our desks, but they found those too. They sought the crumbs like rats.

Our kitchen started going through snacks so quickly, the company began putting restrictions on how much we could order. And then the recession hit. And our big lovely company decided against spending thousands of dollars a shipment on its employees. In the end, we were only left with coffee pods and coffee cups.

The bad economy distracted us quite a bit from our snack drama. Although, the empty cabinets made us feel even more like modern-day Tiny Tims during the holiday season.

Immediately after the storm (December 2008 was the season of layoffs), we were left in the deserted office with only our lonely thoughts and our paper coffee cups. Signs went up around the kitchens to "conserve supplies, bring your own cups." Whenever I read that sign, I pondered the rude, frustrated tone of the office assistant that had to create it.

Over time we began to obsess over our supplies yet again.

By chance, I visited another floor's kitchen. I took a paper coffee cup from the plastic sleeve, filled it with water, and walked back to my desk. As I walked, I felt something different about what I held in my hand. The cup felt bigger. I looked down, into the depths of the cup-- my reflection seemed deeper, farther away. And then it hit me:

The cup from the other kitchen was bigger.

We were clearly no longer the company favorite. Our cabinets were empty, and our cups were smaller. I raced back to our half-empty office and made the announcement. My co-workers vaguely looked up from their seasonal-depression slumber, they roused. I repeated my announcement. Someone ran into our kitchen, grabbed a cup and placed it next to the one I held. We were astonished. We took a picture. We forgot, for a moment, our sadness and our insecurities.

Today the "days of the snacks" sound like local folklore when we speak of it now. But there it is, part of our personal/corporate history. I wonder when those times will return? And what will our future "golden eras" look like?

Two by Two

2009-11-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

Somewhere between Cumberland, Maryland and Morgantown, West Virginia, some middle-american evangelical decided that the best way to spend their time and money was to "rebuild" Noah's ark alongside I-68(pictured here). Unfortunately, with HT speeding by well over 15 miles over the speed limit, I had only one chance to snap a picture and share the humorous structure with the blogosphere. Unfortunately for the architect, the "rebuilding" doesn't appear to have progressed much in the seven or so years HT and I have been driving this stretch of highway. He'd better hurry up-- I hear the world's going to end in 2012. . .

For All You Nesters

2009-11-16T13:57:00.001-05:00

It seems to be coming up in several conversations and posts recently, so I thought I would link to this great website that will give you lots of good decorating, renovating, etc. info. Love it! AND….their house has a pink room. So it makes mine seem ok……

http://www.younghouselove.com/

Girl Wednesday’s Features

2009-11-16T13:51:00.002-05:00

I looove GW’s new dreamy man of the week feature and am holding out until she includes the following:

I don’t get a chance to watch Criminal Minds all that much, but it has an absolutely amazing, quirky cast of characters – all of whom I seem to relate to in one way or another. But Shemar Moore (who plays Derek Morgan) is some eye candy I can’t keep my eyes off of. And he’s a smartie to boot! (some of you, not me! thankfully, may remember him from the Young and Restless. Let’s hope that you, in fact, are not one of those people. But he does have a “I smelled a fart” soap stare in this pose). Still ymmm.

Last Meal

2009-11-13T11:07:00.000-05:00

Here's an interesting article about death row inmates' last meals.

I am not for the death penalty, but I think it's kind of strange that we maintain this 'last meal' tradition. It doesn't bother me that much, but the people these convicts murdered didn't get to choose and enjoy their last meals, that's for sure.

What Really Grinds Wednesday's Gears

2009-11-11T17:00:00.001-05:00

I really like food. I love it. And I can really pack it in. Although, after I eat I usually feel sick... undoubtedly because I either eat too fast, or too much, or am probably lactose intolerant but am too afraid to find out for sure. Either way, I like food.

Tonight on the local evening news I learned of a "real danger" known as "orthorexia," and I just want to say- this really grinds my gears.

Really? Eating too healthy? That's like suffering from "not being lazy," or from "getting too many straight A's." I hate when people suffer from these conveniently flattering disabilities.

I've known one too many girls (sorry, yes girls) who claim to suffer from orthorexia. Though I've never heard them use the term "orthorexia." It usually sounds like, "I don't like salad dressing." Or, "Oh I eat fruit for dessert."

Gosh, that really grinds my gears.

Two please.

Girl Wednesday's Pick: Dancing-in-Her-Apartment Song

2009-11-11T12:00:00.002-05:00

You might recognize this song from the Adidas commercial. We heard it recently on the boardwalk of Venice Beach. When we got back to the hotel, my friend hunted the song down on her laptop. We found it on Youtube and played it over and over and over....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ync5XfNNPo

Two Norwegian dudes made it. Here they are in concert:

Wednesday's Exciting Moments in TV Production: I Love L.A.

2009-11-11T10:00:00.001-05:00

This past weekend brought me to Los Angeles where a producer-friend of mine and I did some filming of a local personality-- a DJ/break dancer/actor/model.

I have a really fun job.

At this club, Boulevard 3, there was a white lucite stage that raised behind the glowing, neon bar and patrons watched and cheered from the surrounding dance floor and the mezzanine balcony as the performances ensued...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IM-WjhOZdTY&feature=youtube_gdata

Break dancing is back!

Dreamy TV Man Pick of the Week: House MD

2009-11-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

I could say that for me, it's his acerbic elitism, the way he tackles only the most unsolvable medical mysteries, his Nikes, or his love for rock n' roll, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that what I love most about Dr. House is the possibility he represents that there really is a doctor out there who can figure out and cure almost anything.

Conceived in the likeness of my beloved Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Gregory House is all business. And even limping down the hospital hall on his cane, even while reduced to the everyday details of his desperate Vicodin addiction, and most recently, putting himself out there at a costume party, only to be rejected by his love- hospital administrator Cuddy-- he is still so dreamy.

My new obsession

2009-11-10T08:57:00.002-05:00

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

I, similar to GirlFriday (with her fondness for Ethan Allen interior decorating), have an unhealthy obsession with real estate and furniture. I don't know when it happened. Probably some time during all the craziness of wedding planning when I realized that after the "big day" was over, I'd have lots of free time to plan the "ever after." I'm sure HT could tell you when he first started noticing the longer period of time I would spend pouring over the Pottery Barn Catalogue. . . I'm surprised he hasn't started throwing them out before I get home like I do with his Griots' garage car-washing supply catalogues. . . but I digress.

Somewhere in the last two years, I have really, really started to want to buy a home. It has something to do with throwing upwards of a few thousand dollars away in rent each month, but it also has to do with just wanting walls I can paint and rooms to decorate, and a big red front door with an antique looking knocker.

HT and I spent the better part of Sunday afternoon wandering around a little haven outside of DC where we'd love to be able to buy a place. We clip-clopped along brick sidewalks and popped in and out of cafes and boutiques trying to avoid strollers and dogs, smiling families, and tourists. We sat for clam chowder looking out at the potomac, somewhat exhausted from our prior evening's activities and wished that we could just plop down right there, put down roots, and stop all the what-ifs that come with the ACTUAL headaches of homeownership.

The problem with the obsession is that it's fun right now. We haven't broached the topic with lenders, we haven't really, earnestly, tried to figure out what we can afford, and we haven't set foot across a threshhold yet. And I'm certain that once we make those steps, my tone might change. But right now, home to me is clapboard and blue shutters with a red door and crooked, colonial front step. And filled with pottery barn furniture. . .

Choose or Lose

2009-11-09T19:48:00.002-05:00

If you could get four more seasons of Gilmore Girls (pre-Yale and the Birken bag), but that meant you had to watch every LA Clippers game on ESPN, would you?

If you could go back and keep Taylor Hicks from making it to Hollywood week on American Idol, but it meant Wesley and Princess Buttercup wouldn’t get together, would you do it?

This is a great link, check it out – I’d love to hear your thoughts. Are there any you would definitely choose?: http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/show/movies_without_pity/the_box_better_questions_they.php

Bad Sports

2009-11-09T19:48:00.001-05:00

Saw this first thing this morning. What a bad sport! Someone find me a campaign where we can get her banned from soccer…..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JC-pF3OHY1c

Girl Fairway

2009-11-09T19:44:00.000-05:00

GirlFairway is very sick, please pray for her.

Amen

2009-11-06T14:54:00.001-05:00

Back in January, when we were discussing things we love to hate, I mentioned how much I hate when people complain about the way waiters are treated in the cases when they're actually really terrible waiters. This week the New York Times featured articles listing the things restuarant staffers should never do. Sometimes, I wish people in the service industry would realize that it's their responsibility to provide exemplerary service, and that's the point this veteran of the restaurant industry is making. The list can be found here and here. Enjoy!

Producers shouldn't act nor enable others to do so

2009-11-06T08:30:00.003-05:00

Here's something that has been bothering me for quite a while. I love the show The Office. However, one character I do not care for at all is Ryan Howard, pictured below on the far right with the other major players of the show.

He is played by B.J. Novak, who is also a producer for the show. Though the character sucks (not in an enjoyable way) he has persisted for all of the seasons, given story lines, and is one of the "stars" identified in the opening credits. Even though he never really has story lines about him, and when they are there, they are forced. I have to believe the fact that he is a producer has something to do with it. If he wasn't, I'm sure he'd be written out. His character has dated the office ditz, Kelly (played by Mindy Kaling) who has some funny moments but overall isn't that great. But she's a producer too, so, she's still there. Please, NBC do something about it. (Girls, do you have any pull?) There are so many better actors/characters in that big ensemble!

In similar "my favorite TV shows" developments, Roxy Olin who now appears on MTV's fake reality show, "The City" has what looks to be a recurring role on one of my favorite favs, Brothers & Sisters.

I mean, she's okay. But whenever I see her on the show, I can't help but think about the fact that her parents are actors on the show, and I believe her dad produces and/or directs.

I don't know if it's just my knowledge of the situation that ruins it for me (probably) or she really does kind of suck and is extraneous. If you're on a reality show it seems pretty obvious that you are trying to act and be famous, and so here, it's kinda like, you could cut the nepotism with a knife.

It's fun and delicious when shows/films do a good job with casting, but it can really mess things up when they let it slide.

Weddings and more

2009-11-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

So 17 days to go before the big day! Getting really excited, stressed, nervous, anxious, anxiety, you name I feel like I have it :)

We started out dating over two years ago, for about a year of it we spent in airports waving goodbye or hugging hello. I lived in LA he lived in the big city. So finally a year and a half ago I decided to move here.

I did love LA and most of my family there, or at least on the west coast, so for me this was a huge change, but for the best!

Now were just in the final stretch of organizing our wedding. I kind of feel like weddings are more for family and friends and less for you. We have had a lot of fun making our own favors, decorations, ect to bring out our personality's to the reception part.

I have made little soap owls for the bathroom, covered in tea tree and lavender oils. (I think my roommates who I live with now will be so excited when our apartment has less fragrance in it)

Joe and I together now have made chocolate covered acorns and painted the tops of them silver and some gold, put them in little boxes and carving are names in the top of the box. (kind of going for the woodsy style)

Were having our reception up at Sundance Screening room. He filmed and edited a movie a little over a year ago and were going to be showing that along with one that I am currently working on. Here is the one he made while I was living in Los Angles.

Dreamy TV Man Pick of the Week: The Mentalist

2009-11-04T15:00:00.002-05:00

You thought I was going to say Simon Baker, didn't you?
Not this week!
This is the guy on The Mentalist who never smiles, almost always wears short-sleeved/button-down shirts with a tie, is surprisingly jacked-- Agent Kimball Cho, played by Tim Kang, is my pick for this week.

Girl Wednesday's Picture-Perfect Weekend

2009-11-04T10:00:00.003-05:00

I'd been wanting to do a pumpkin weekend for a long time. I had so wanted to channel my junior-high love for Halloweens and homecoming bonfires and that time when everything is cozy and cool and echoey and spooky.

After a planned pumpkin-picking weekend with Girl Friday got rained-out, I had another opportunity with my boyfriend and some friends from work-- and seized it! Behold, my picture-perfect autumn weekend.....

Location: Long Island, NY

Corn Maze!!
(I'll admit, this was my most anticipated part of the trip, but I decided that while beautiful, the corn maze needed a little edge. Maybe nightfall could have been rapidly approaching and we couldn't find our way out, or a devil-possessed serial killer was chasing after us, or we consumed a bottle of vodka while trying to find our way out).

Pumpkins!

Pies!

(photos courtesy Si Hobbs)

Wednesday's Exciting Moments in TV Production: Safe Cavin!

2009-11-04T08:00:00.004-05:00

This Wednesday I bring to you the aftermath of my funnest, wildest moment in TV production to date: cave exploration.

For a weather story on a cave flood from 1979, I went back to the original cave where the story took place. I met with the original rescuers (pictured with me, left) and crawled through scary-small places of the wet cave in northern Georgia.

Because Georgia had been hit with so much rain just days before my adventure, I was really nervous. But once inside, I didn't panic at all! In fact, I had a great time and would do it again in a heartbeat.

"Safe cavin," as they say. Or as that one guy says- the guy in the red jumpsuit. He signs his emails that way.

Like a chaperone at a high school dance. . .

2009-11-03T00:01:00.003-05:00

My blackberry buzzed somewhere between Dupont Circle and Woodley Park on Thursday morning as I received an e-mail notifying me that my Mother had made a suggestion that I add my father as a "friend" on facebook. I'm sure I'm NOT the first to experience the full-family social networking, but it doesn't make me any more okay with it. Granted, I've already taken precautions with my profile-- I've turned off all broadcasts, I've turned off the wall, and I've limited the number of people who can search me. But there's something odd to me about having my Mom & Dad on facebook. I don't mind them seeing my game day rants about poor football performances, nor do I have any problem with them viewing my pictures or reading my cranky late-night-at-the-office status messages, but there is just something about it that I find odd.

My parents have ALWAYS been tech-savy. My dad was on the internet when all there was was compuserve and text-based message boards accessed using MS-DOS. He had a "portable" compaq computer roughly the size of a carry-on suitcase which my brother and I used to successfully conquer Math Blaster and the first version of Where in the World is Carmen San Diego. We had a cable modem as soon as they were available in the boonies, and they rigged wireless internet throughout the house faster than you can say linksys. They talk to my nephew across the country on a webcam, and they've got more cables wired into their new house than most office buildings.

Lucky for me during college, they never got in to InstantMessager or bothered with Friendster, MySpace, or even LinkdIn (though I'm probably wrong on that one). I called them once a week, e-mailed occasionally, but their virtual presence was relatively minimal. But now they have iPhones, macbooks, and facebook profiles. When I check status updates from my blackberry, I can see my mother's musings or learn my father's evening plans. My mom spent her entire visit to see my nephew taking and uploading pictures with her iPhone. My brother started chatting with me this afternoon on FB to try and determine how to launch a war against the adult infiltration of facebook.

Don't get me wrong, why shouldn't parents and other adults be able to reap the same reconnecting benefits we all enjoy about facebook. We all enjoy the random friend request from your childhood neighbor or the congratulatory message from the roommate you've lost touch with. I'm just weirded out knowing how much I stalk people on facebook and wonder if my mom and dad are now doing the same to me and my friends. And then there's the fact that the ever-growing facebook population that makes me wonder if we'll reach a point where parents and children communicate by Facebook message, notifying eachother of locations or curfew changes via status message. Who'll need chaperones if apple invents an iPhone app that tweens carry with them while their parents wait at home watching on the webcam?

After drafting this post last week, I ran across a CNN.com article yesterday discussing the trend among tweens lying about their age and bucking the membership agreements for social networking sites: http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/11/02/kids.social.networks/index.html. Perhaps there's some real truth to my predictions. . . Frightening.

Beeeeuuutiful

2009-11-02T11:15:00.008-05:00

I live in the most beautiful place on Earth. I love looking in almost any direction at almost any time and having a scenic, ever-changing view to cast my eyes upon. The leaves this fall have been particularly spectacular and the drive back last night from the airport was unbelievable. Fog rolling out across the mountain tops, making it look like whitecaps, glowing fall leaves brightening the mountainsides, an orange to pink to ice blue to navy sunset, and a full moon. Wowzers. If any of you out there have never been to the Southern Appalachians, they come highly recommended. But as the locals say, “please don’t move here.”

When You Miss a Flight

2009-11-02T11:09:00.002-05:00

So I have never in all my years of flying missed a flight (for which it was my fault) – I’ve always been terrified that I would, either:

1. End up not making it to my destination
2. End up not making it home for days
3. HAVE TO PAY OUT THE ASS to prevent 1 or 2. Or in addition to 1 and 2.

But over the weekend, I had the pleasure of seeing what happens first hand. BoyfriendFriday was scheduled to go home Sunday afternoon. Or so we thought. But on our way to breakfast Sunday morning, a cursory check of the flight time lead to a discovery of a 6:40 AM flight. Not a 6:40 PM flight. Oooops. My bad.

Anyway, here’s what happens when you miss a flight. NOTHING! It’s grand. They just put you on the next one they have available (that you want) and you pay a $50 change fee (geck, but it could be worse). So he flew home at 6PM. No problems.

I can see how missing a flight at the holidays could cause a problem, or other airlines may be worse, but overall, I have been worried all those years for nothing. Not a really exciting story, but a good piece of information for those of you who get to the airport 2 hours early……..

But I do have some good stories about running to planes carrying my rolling luggage (it’s so much easier if you’re in a hurry to carry rather than try to roll, navigating kids, curves, and transitions to the moving walkway) to be greeted by a plane full of cheering people (they cheer when you get there because it means they can finally leave – it’s not like I’m a celebrity. Although I tell myself that).

One Year Ago Friday

2009-11-02T11:05:00.002-05:00

We miss you Mr G.

On The Road Again

2009-10-30T18:41:00.000-04:00

A cool shot I took out the passenger side window while me and my hubby were driving across the country last summer.

Crazy Town

2009-10-30T12:49:00.004-04:00

Does anyone else get randomly emotional, to a pretty irrational extent? I hate to be the unfairly stereotyped hysterical woman, but it happens to me a lot. What's weird is that I am pretty even-keel most of the time. I make a concerted effort to be kind of strong and take life as it comes. But the absolute dumbest things, like sappy commercials and human interest stories on TV, just get me going.

Take for example previews for the upcoming film The Blind Side starring Sandra Bullock. I was vaguely aware of the Michael Lewis book about the true life story of pro-football player Michael Oher-- his difficult childhood and eventual adoption and nurturing by a well-to-do family, but when I see anything about this movie, I just starting bawling. Hysterically. And I know that's what the filmmakers want, and they add just the right touching moments into the trailer with the requisite sweeping music score quite purposefully. I don't think it's just that that sets me off though.

Whenever I see something about the movie, I can't help having deep, lengthy thoughts about Oher's situation. He never knew his father, his mom was addicted to crack cocaine. In the movie, Sandra Bullock's character sees him walking on a dark street, in freezing weather, with just a tee-shirt on. I just can't take the image. When she approaches him, he's so timid. He has nowhere to sleep. In my mind, I can't help thinking, Why? How? This innocent person, this child of God, without proper clothes or shelter. Several times I have weeped and weeped over this. As emotional as it makes me to think that someone could be in this situation, I am also completely moved by the kindness of the family that opened their hearts to him. But-- what if they hadn't? Who else is out there?

Obviously, crying about this widely-reaching problem is not going to help. I think what I can do is try to be the kind of person who appreciates her own blessings enough to realize that's it's my responsibility, as a human being, to take care of anyone going through a hardship, in any way I can. For now maybe it's just praying. Perhaps one day I'll be able to do more. In the mean time, I'm going to try to stay calm.

Damn it, just watched the preview again. I need to get some tissues.

Ethan Allen Style Quiz

2009-10-30T10:07:00.001-04:00

Good morning friends!
I wanted to share with you one of my favorite wasting-time activities. I love home decor, and although I have never actually purchased anything from Ethan Allen, I really like their stuff. On their website, they have a Design Quiz, which helps you determine what your home decor point-of-view is. It's not perfectly scientific-- I take it over and over again and often get different results-- but I still think it's super fun. I hope you enjoy it! You can access it here.

Turn, Turn, Turn

2009-06-19T00:01:00.000-04:00

Summer used to be my least favorite holiday. I'm not a huge fan of the heat, and nothing else about it appealed to me. By contrast, the rest of the seasons did. I loved the freshness of Spring, and comfy-ness of fall, and I loved winter largely because of Christmas. Summer just didn't do it for me.

But that's all changed. When I was growing up and it snowed in our neighborhood, the plows piled all the snow into a big hill on our cul-de-sac. It was awesome. We had so much fun sledding down it and making snowmen and having snowball fights. As an adult, I lived in Pittsburgh for a while, and that cured any affection I had for winter. Being an adult, you have to deal with a lot of things that you don't have to when you're young. No one expects a youngster to walk far distances in the snow. But when I was in college or working in New York, that's what you did when you had to get somewhere. When you're young, you don't have to shovel the snow, salt your icy steps so as to not get sued by a visitor, or deal with a weak car. I still love Christmas though.

And I still love Fall for many reasons. It contains my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, plus another that has really grown on me lately, Halloween. I love sweaters and the way the leaves look and college football and a new TV schedule. The main reason I love Fall, though, is that I love the beginning of things. I don't think I will ever stop thinking of the Fall as the beginning of the New Year. Pre-Blackberry, I loved to get a new planner every September, and the feeling in the air still reminds of school supplies and getting organized.

Speaking of starting new, I also love that other temperate season, Spring. My favorite thing about Spring is the style you see around. Much like GirlTuesday, I'm a preppy girl. I love polos and pastels and feminine dresses. I love baby showers and weddings. I can't get enough of the sun shining bright during Easter Egg hunts and picnics and long dog walks.

As the grown-up that I am, I have really come to appreciate summer. In honor of GirlMonday, here are my top 5:

1. Unfortunately, I spend a lot of my day in front of the computer. I love that when I'm all done in the afternoon, it stays sunny for hours!

2. I love that people seem more willing to get out and do fun stuff- even a couch potato like me!

3. Blockbuster summer movies. Midnight showings in Manhattan- it's the best.

4. Wedding/BBQ/Vacation season!

5. Also-- I. LOVE. ICE CREAM. It is an unhealthy, destructive relationship that I hope to maintain forever.

Until the Day is Night and Night Becomes the Day

2009-06-17T00:01:00.001-04:00

I never thought I'd look back on my college summers as the best summers of my life. At the time, I never would have thought that those brief interludes-- spent working to save money for textbooks and then circling the town, looking for parties after the waitressing shift ended-- would now signify freedom and youth and fun. As if it would all one day be nothing more than a thing of the past.

May and part of June was spent still at the New York City dorm, wrapping up exams and final projects- spending a lot of free time with my college friends. These are particularly blissful memories of walking to the reaches of the city in the sun, getting cold teas from the Japanese tea house, going movie screenings at the college center, hanging out after at Union Square with the skateboarders, talking and talking and talking (about what, I couldn't tell you), sitting on a stone bench at Washington Square Park with the bongo players and the street dancers, and watching the season's last episode of Felicity with my dorm-mates (and crying) before we all packed up to go home.

July and August was spent back home on Long Island, with my "home friends," waiting tables and driving to the beach on my days off.

After the night shift ended, around 12AM or 1, my friend Missy and I would change into the clothes we kept in her car and drive off to the Hamptons clubs where we'd dance until 7AM. Then we'd go home, sleep for a few hours, then wake up in time for our shift to start again in the afternoon.

It was pure insanity. Our parents called us "vampires."

There was one summer I worked the day shift in a coffee shop. I slept when I got home from work- around 6 in the evening, then woke up at around midnight to go out. There were too many nights where I never slept at all, and I watched the sun come up and got that sick, sinking feeling in my stomach at the sound of the first birds chirping and I knew it was time to head back to the foaming static of the cappuccino machine.

We had a group of summer friends-- all waiters and hostesses, all much older than us. It was one of the few times in my life where a group had no ill dynamics. Everyone was out to dance and have fun. They rented a big house together, that became the party house. After the clubs would kick us out, the guys would hang black garbage bags over the windows in the party house, hang Christmas lights and put out some lava lamps and we'd have our own dance party in the living room.

In the hours before our shifts would start, we'd haul our uniforms to the beach in garment bags on the back seats of our cars, and sleep in the sand until it was time to go to work.

They really were endless, those summers. I sort of assumed, though I'm sure I never really thought about it, that all summers would be as carefree and wonderful.

It now reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from the movie, The Hours:

"I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then."

I can vividly remember the last night we danced all night. It was 7AM in the biggest club in eastern Long Island, with a deep and wide dance floor- a giant pit of a former factory with a cloud of condensation from sweat above hundreds of bobbing heads, and people dancing on the balcony hanging over the pit. The DJ played his last song of the summer-- Stevie Wonder's As-- 7 minutes of one of the best songs ever written, that counted down the last moments of the last summer of pure nothingness. The club dropped white foam and bubbles from the ceiling and spun the lights joyously. We were singing and dancing like an end-of-summer ritual, sending the beach gods back to their autumn retreats. I remember seeing snapshots of ourselves flash before me, each time the strobe illuminated us. What would we become? It didn't matter. What happened at the end of the summer? It didn't matter. We just turned and turned and turned, with our arms outstretched, swallowing the moment whole.

***

The 5 (million) things I love about summer:

1. Summer nights in the city-- tables go outside, bars spill into the streets, people are dressed up in glittery gauzes and sun dresses and flip flops. The idea of going to see a movie seems a lot less depressing, because when you get out it's alive and the whole city is awake. You can walk home, leisurely and enjoy it. People are happy, subway cars are full of noise and happiness.

2. Letting my hair air dry. As if I were meant to be in such weather all year round. As if being able to walk outside with wet hair signifies some freedom-- I think it does.

3. The beach, the beach, the beach. Scarf around my hair, walking there, plopping down, getting up for some volleyball, a popsicle, knowing the lifeguards, the sounds of little kids playing in the sand, nap in the sun...

4. Running in the sun. Free of thermals, quilted vests, hats and gloves. Sweating as sweating was meant to be.

5. Senses alive. I suddenly want to write and climb rocks and bicycle and paint and sing and dance and do everything as if there's just not enough time. In the winter there seems to be so much time, too much time. I want to visit everyone I haven't seen in ages, I want to over-book myself, plan dinners and parties and make myself a better person. The sun pulls me out of bed and stays out long enough for me to get home safe and still feeling it's energy under my skin. There is nothing-- nothing!-- like a nap after a day spent outdoors. Everything feels different, I can feel everything.

. . . and the living is easy

2009-06-16T00:01:00.000-04:00

It’s funny to me how summer can be so many different things throughout the years. When you’re young, summer means an escape from the classroom. It means early morning swim practice, followed by a full day by the pool. It means multi-hour car rides en route to summer vacation, trying desperately to survive the pokes, prods, kicks, and flatulence of your siblings in the back seat. Summer means sleep-away camp and reunions with once-a-year friends. It means post-cards, pool parties, and popsicles. It means catching fireflies, growing tadpoles, playing capture the flag, and trying desperately to heal constantly skinned knees.

By the time you reach high-school, summer means finding a summer job that you can fit in around morning and evening swim practices. It means focusing more on your tan than on your tree-fort, and it means a later curfew and fling romances. And it means the final days at home before starting a new phase.

In college, summer is the strange blend of old and new. It is the return home for the first time since being away, and trying to determine how much you and old friends still have in common. It is realizing the strength of friendships, but missing new friends. It means long-distance romances, and learning how to live with parents again after a year of freedom. Summer is the pursuit of the perfect internship, or the excitement of the return to campus.

After college, summer shifts entirely. Rather than nine intense months punctuated with three months of freedom, all of the sudden summer arrives and the only real change is the need to figure out how to stay cool in work clothes in ninety degree heat. Those of us who went to graduate school delayed that transition a few years, though we did find ourselves wearing the very same suits during out stints as interns and summer-associates. But regardless of whether reality strikes at twenty-two or twenty-six, the truth becomes painfully clear: somewhere after twenty, summer loses the same charm it once had.

Sure, there are outdoor happy hours and the occasional road trip or even a lengthy vacation, but the lazy days are left to weekend afternoons. There’s a chore for every fire-fly, and all of the sudden it’s your job to not only shuck but also cook and clean up after the corn-on-the cob. As you might be able to tell, Summer is when I feel the oldest, and when quitting my job to become a teacher seems the most appealing—three months free from the daily routine; three months to pursue hobbies, budding interests, or moonlight in a field of your true passion. It really is unfortunate that more industries can’t adopt such an approach. . . Guess it will just have to be a summer day dream for now.

The Dog Days of Summer

2009-06-15T11:23:00.007-04:00

Summer is my most absolute favorite time of year, so I’m going to ask everyone this week to name your top 5 favorite things about summer (you can totally do it as a sidebar to your regular blog, don’t let me intrude on your blogging plans…)

Here’s my list.

1. Ice Cream
http://www.creolecreamery.com/

Any excuse to eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is fine by me, and the start of summer provides just enough motivation for me to get out of the office at 3 in the afternoon to walk over to Marble Slab, or throw on enough clothes at 11 on Tuesday night to drive out to the Tastee Freeze (mmmmm, and they’re open until midnight), or dust off the ice cream maker for the best peach ice cream ever made (email me if you want to the recipe – but don’t wait too long or you’ll need the one for blackberry ice cream instead!) I don’t discriminate much when it comes to ice cream. I can do anything from froyo, to the cheap stuff, to vanilla with mix-ins, to B&J. And I can do it in a freshly made waffle cone, or I can do it straight from the limp, disintegrating gallon container on my couch. Whatever the vehicle, whatever the flavor, I’m sure to be eating as much as I can in the summer.

2. Long Days and Great Sunsets

I used to live in Memphis, home of the most gorgeous sunsets you will ever see, so like with BBQ, I got a little spoiled in my time there. So when summer rolls around, I always look forward to enjoying the long, hot days, and the inevitable beautiful sunset that comes with them. Now, I’m the first to admit, it’s a little hard to get a good view when you’re at 2800 feet surrounded by 6000 foot high mountains, but lucky for me I’m on the road plenty during this time of year, so I’m guaranteed to get at least one or two good sunsets. The picture above is from near Carmel in CA. I would have included one from Memphis, but they all include a shot of me sweating profusely. Mmmm, Memphis.

3. Baseball Season

Anyone who knows me knows I LOVVVE me some baseball. Men in tight pants, hot dogs, beer, and sunshine. Oh, and ice cream. Nothing goes together better. If you’ve never had the experience of sitting in a stadium on a weekDAY afternoon, watching a game, drinking a beer, and not being at work, I recommend it for everyone. A good park to check out is Citizen’s in Philly. Or PNC – just ask GF.

4. The Lake

I have the great honor of being invited to spend a week (or weeks if I could spare the time) at Keuka Lake (NY) each summer. While it’s a scant 14+ hour drive, the 7-10 days spent sunning lakeside, skiing, tubing (okay, flying out of the tube at 30 miles an hour and spending the rest of the week watching the bruise on the backside go from blue to green….), boating, blueberry picking, reading, wine tasting, and sleeping late generally make up for the 28-30 hours getting there and back. I’m already itching to get driving.

5. Swimming Dogs

GirlFairway is a mix. People are all the time asking me what kind of dog she is (and my favorite response has become “custom breed”). The shelter told me she was part Akita and part Golden, but she’s definitely got some Chow in her as well (see the tail above as well as the black tongue you can’t see). Chows HATE water. Or so I hear. But Goldens love water. So there’s there ever raging battle in GirlFairway’s head that probably goes something like this: “Swim! Don’t Swim! Swim! Don’t Swim!” But it’s the Akita that breaks the tie in the summer. She gets so hot with all that fur (this year she is working on shedding herself a playmate) that she has to cool off. So the water wins and she swims. It’s so funny to watch because you can still see the battle going on in her head as she paddles around out there. “I’m going out further! I’m going back to shore! I’m getting cooler, yay! I’m wet, boo!”

So to all of you out there, enjoy the dog days of summer. Next week those days start to get shorter.

Good Times

2009-06-12T00:01:00.001-04:00

I have plenty of embarassing moments in my past. I remember one particularly sleepy morning, waiting for the bus to high school, a girl waiting with me suddenly said, "are you wearing two different shoes?" And I was. And they weren't even the same color- one was black and one was brown. Luckily, I was able to slip up to the gym locker room before first period and slip on the Keds I had on in there.

Then there was the time my 1st grade teacher asked me if my family celebrated Halloween. Of course we did, but I remember thinking, "I'm not Catholic or Jewish like everyone else. Maybe there's a religious aspect to it I'm not realizing." Quite a precocious thought for a five year old, I must say. Anyway, I told my teacher "No, we don't." Later we had a Halloween parade, and I dressed up like a cheerleader, and my teacher was confused. I recently saw a picture from that day, and in addition to my pom-poms I am sporting some ridiculous Oh-Mickey-you're-so-fine make-up. So I guess I'm not through being embarassed about the incident, but not about being put on the spot by my teacher. I don't think of that as being funny as much as I think my teacher, like so many I've encountered, was an idiot.

When I was turning 13, my mom had a surprise party for me. But it wasn't typical. I was an active tennis player when I was younger, and one day I came up to the lobby from my lesson, and my mom was there, with my aunt and a birthday cake. Yes, I had a good friend in my lesson and there was another girl around my age there, but I was mortified that my mom decided to do this, without even figuring out when all of my tennis friends would be there. A few minutes after I blew out the candles, many more of my friends emerged from the TV rec room, and they were confused about what was going on and I felt like an idiot. In the end, though, everyone had cake and fun and I guess it wasn't such a tragedy. But I remember being SO embarrased when I first saw that cake. I also remember that the good friend that was in the lesson with me was more focused on the fact that the other girl from our lesson kept saying "You're a teeny-bopper now!" I guess she thought the girl was weird and it really annoyed her. It's funny when you're young and feeling like everyone is mocking you, the truth is, they are always thinking about something else. The same is true for adulthood, I think. Thank goodness.

Dilemma

2009-06-09T00:01:00.000-04:00

When I told HT about this week's blog topic, he laughed heartily. "Embarrassing moments-- you've got PLENTY of those,"he proclaimed.

The sad thing is, he's completely correct. But the problem is, as hilarious as some of the stories are, and as much as I am able to laugh about most of them now, there's a difference between being able to laugh at yourself, and being willing to put it out for the whole blogosphere to read. Especially when MomTuesday is a frequent visitor. . .

Thus began this week's dilemma--entertain our faithful readers with tales of misplaced undergarments or drunken declarations, or rifle through the mental vault in search of a more PG incident. As fun as it would be to air my dirty laundry, I've opted for the later option. And what better way to discuss embarrassment than to talk about two of the most embarrassing moments of my early childhood.

The first occurred when I was in third grade. As an elementary school student, I perhaps more self-aware than the average child. So much so that the SLIGHTEST of embarrassment tended to make me blush a bright red. Imagine, if you will, then how red my face got the day that I walked a bit too close to my teacher as she uncrossed her legs in front of the class and accidentally caught my skirt in the sweeping motion. For a brief moment, my bright blue Hanes-Her-Way was visible to the row of nine year old boys sitting in the front of the classroom. Mortified, my eyes welled with tears as the teacher, feeling terrible about the mishap, reassured me that they couldn't possibly have seen anything in the split second. The boys, however, were quick to pipe up that they had, in fact seen my undergarments, and they were blue. "Tell them they were pink," my teacher whispered; but with a wail of honesty I proclaimed, "BUT THEY WERE BLUE!!!!!" And proceeded to storm out of the room.

The second occurred four years later in the seventh grade, when my mom was serving as a chapperone on our class fieldtrip to Philadelphia. Having grown up in a township with a lone traffic light, I wasn't a particularly astute city traveler. Never was this more clear than the moment I stepped down off the curb and straight into the path of the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile. Yes, that's right, the big hot-dog-shapped motor-vehicle you've seen on those insipid commercials was barrelling towards me. My mom reached out her hand with the speed only a mother is capable of, grabbed me by the collar, and pulled me out of it's way. But the handful of guys who were in our small group were still bringing up the hilarity of that brief instant long after we'd graduated high school. To have met my death by driving weiner, they proclaimed, would have been a fantastic way to go. Luckily, I'm around today to tell the story. Thanks MomTuesday.

As to the 1,000 or so other embarrassing stories that have ellapsed between 12 and 28, they'll have to wait for another day. . . it's not that I can't laugh about them, it's just that I'm not ready for you to laugh, too :)

My Condition

2009-06-05T00:01:00.001-04:00

I don't know if everyone has the same problem. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. But I am certain that I have a mild case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Though undiagnosed, I sometimes allow the weather to affect my mood to a ridiculous extent. It's not like every time it's rainy, I'm sad-- or every time it's sunny, I'm happy. Luckily, I do not suffer from that level of psychosis. However, bad weather doesn't help anything in terms of my ability to cope with life. And good weather sometimes does.

I'm a pretty future obsessed person, and something I love to think about is where I will live, as in "settle". I was recently hanging out with my super cool sister-in-law and cousin-in-law, and I posed this question of them. I said, 'if you could make it the perfect situation, like have the right job and the right friends and family around, where would you live if you could live anywhere?' Cuz then asked me, 'could I change the weather?' I said, 'no'. She protested, then sighed, then said, 'I'd still pick the twin cities.'

Though weather is one of the reasons my dream location is my dream location, I can relate to Cuz's dilemma. Weather so simultaneously affects us yet is irrelvant to us. Barring locations that have totally extreme weather patterns, it seems like we would be willing to live places that didn't have perfect weather if we really just liked the character of the state or city. Then again, a LOT of people want to live in San Diego-- you don't hear that very often about Buffalo.

Also, I want to point out that "bad" weather doesn't always translate to a bad mood-- sometimes it has the exact opposite effect. I remember that when I was in elementary school, whenever it was rainy and gloomy out, the flourescent lights seemed to glow differently. For some reason, I loved it and I loved the way my school felt those days. It was oddly comforting. We couldn't go out for recess and we'd sit on the gym floor and watch a video instead (The Princess Bride sticks out in my memory). I may have been in school and everything else about the day was the same as always, but I felt like I was home in front of the TV in my sweatpants somehow.

I'm curious- does anyone else out there know what I'm talking about-- the rainy day interior of school being pleasant? Let me know!

Weather Girl

2009-06-03T01:34:00.000-04:00

It started out, I think, as a byproduct of having curly hair- my obsession with the weather. Humidity signifies ringlets. Drier air means mere wavy tresses, far more manageable.

As early on as I had connected that lower humidity is equal to easier hair days (a/k/a "Ahhhh"), I have been weather attentive. But over time I also learned that lower humidity means general comfort and a greater chance I am going to enjoy being outside, and as GT pointed out, my commute to work would be pleasant, and thus my day, overall, would be pleasant. Fresh, dry, clean, happy. Ahhhh.

I discovered The Weather Channel in recent years- and their local updates "on the 8's." I get dew point tempeatures for my area every 8 minutes! I had been frustrated with major morning news programs, which seemed to not take weather seriously enough (about every 26 minutes, in fact). Twenty-four hours of weather only fed (feeds) my addiction. I don't even mind the terrible, instrumental,soft jazz that accompanies the outdated-looking radar maps on the shoddy green screens behind the D-list anchors (that everyone knows). I don't mind it, the forecast determines the mood of my day. This is important.

When I interviewed for the job I currently have, which happens to be a weather-related television show, I laughed when my current boss asked if I'd enjoy working on such a project. "Are you kidding?? I am obsessed with weather. You don't understand-- I watch weather porn every day," I explained. She laughed. And hired me.

People shake their heads when I try to explain what appears to be a funny quirk of mine. But over the years I've learned something much greater than what started out as pure vanity-- the weather really is a huge deal. Mainstream media tends to ignore it, save for its half-time shoutouts, unless something huge happens, like tornados wiping out entire towns, levees breaking.. At which point it's painfully clear to see how weather affects politics, government and policy; how it illuminates socio-economic conditions. For many parts of this country (ie, in tornado alley or on the gulf) weather is the most important topic of discussion, because weather has and will drastically change their lives- not if, but when.

I feel like I'm getting super boring now. There are fewer mundane topics than the weather, I realize. But I will end on this: weather keeps things interesting. It does everything from angering taxpayers, to claiming lives. It is one of the few things we have absolutely no control over. Weather cannot be tamed nor contaned nor redirected. It is the non-human human drama that propels us into both ordinary stories of mere discomfort, and extraordinary stories of bravery and survival. And sometimes it makes a happy story even happier, when there's sun and a cool breeze on a clear day.

Hazy, Hot, and Humid

2009-06-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

For those of you who aren't aware, before L'Enfant hatched his European Avenue inspired plans for Washington, DC, the diamond-shaped district was pretty much a swamp. During most of the year, you wouldn't really know it, walking up and down the wide streets and popping in and out of the large marble Smithsonian Institution structures, or crowd watching in Dupont Circle. You certainly don't notice when holed up in a K-Street office building, and you'd be wise not to think about it at all when barreling through tunnels under the city on a metro train.

But come summer in DC, you cannot escape the swamp. Despite the relatively cool spring, the swamp air rolled in last week with a vengeance, and hung thick in the air all week long like a Memorial Day house guest who had long overstayed his welcome.

As you can probably tell from my the disgusted tone to this entry, GirlTuesday is NOT a fan of the humidity. I like it fine when I'm sitting pool/beach/lake-side and sunning myself. Or when hiking through a rainforest on vacation. . . But that kind of waft-away-from-the-face, thick, moist air should be reserved for those locales only, and NOT a daunting onslaught, day after day, all summer long.

My hatred is not rooted in a dislike of the weather phenomenon, itself. It is due, almost entirely in part, to the fact that I can't stand having to don work clothes and trek in to the office through the thick summer air. From Memorial day to Labor day, I pretty much have to say farewell to leaving my hair down, and dig out as many quasi-work appropriate t-shirts and shells to wear under with my suits. Or, on the more business-casual days, perhaps a twin-set and summery skirt. I have to slow my walk down a bit, and traipse a bit more like a southerner, so as to arrive with a heathy summer glow, as opposed to being downright soaked in sweat by the time I plop down on my desk.

And, in the evenings, the trick to DC summers is being able to time your departure from the office so as to avoid that afternoon's thunderstorms. This past Friday, gleeful at the thought of being able to leave the office at a reasonable 6 o'clock hour, I was tying up lose ends around the office, only to hear a tremendous clap of thunder shake my windows a mere 10 minutes before I'd planned to leave. Having seen enough of these storms roll through, I knew that the wise thing to do would be to linger at my computer just a little while longer and wait. But not this particular day. I couldn't bring myself to stay a second longer. So I ventured out, into the kind of rain that soaked you from all angles; and the water had come down so quickly that there were 2-4 inches of rushing water headed gushing through the gutters and across the streets. But bound and determined to make it to the metro, I jumped from awning to awning and sloshed through countless puddles until I arrived, a soaked, puddle-causing mess and plopped down on my metro seat.

And to think, it's not even summer yet. . .

Fake Sick

2009-06-01T13:08:00.001-04:00

I have only ever once called into work “fake sick.” And I use the term work there veeery loosely. It’s not that I’m ethically above calling in, it’s just that when the time comes to actually do it, I can never pull the trigger. I can’t conjure up even the slightest tickle in the back of my throat that would push me over the edge. Yep, I’m sick.

People in my office call in sick all the time. Or at least they must. Because no one can be as sick as some of the people I work with are on Fridays and Mondays (the best days ever to be “sick”, but the worst days to be actually sick because that means you probably weren’t feeling well over the weekend and no one wants that). I wish I had that ability to not feel compelled to get up and come in. Combined with a boss that would seem oblivious. Combined with a lack of caring for one’s profession. Okay, maybe not that last one, I don’t think I’d ever want to not care about my job. If that’s ever the case, I should probably change jobs. Hmm…..Anyway, the one time I called in sick was to go to the SEC basketball tournament (I called into my college internship with food poisoning. It’s your best bet for fake sickness, no one questions, you don’t have to pretend to sneeze or cough, and you can “get over it” in a day/few days).

I really wanted to call in today. Really badly. I was out of town last night and didn’t get back to the house until close to midnight, and knew there was no way I would want to get up this morning. Which I didn’t. But more than anything, and is always the case when I want to call in sick, the weather is PERFECT. Or at least a Southerner’s definition of perfect (which may be a little hot for some of you Northern gals). It was 82 and sunny all weekend, and today is supposed to be just another of the same. We’ve been setting rainfall records around here for the last two months (8+ inches in May) so I am grateful for the sun. We had a few nice days in the middle of March where it was, what the weather people would term “unseasonably warm”, but it’s done nothing but rain since then. A cursory check of the ole internet, turns up 19 out of the last 30 days with rain. Blech. No wonder the dog was starting to smell like mildew. Anyway, that just makes days like today all that much nicer. It’s the third wonderfully perfect day we’ve had a in row. 55 degrees and cool when you wake up. Warming gradually throughout the day, never getting hot, and another cool down after supper. I’d love to be at home in my bathing suit at the pool right now (okay, that would not be at home, exactly) or even in my yard tending to my plant babies.

Either way, I can’t even find a little tickle in the back of my throat. No cramps in sight. And last night’s dinner settled in with my stomach quite well. So I guess I’m not sick. And I’m stuck here all day.

Reunion Tangent

2009-05-29T00:01:00.001-04:00

So, reunions. I didn't go to my 10 year high school reunion because I lived in a different city. I suppose that I could have flown in, but I didn't think it was worth it. Like most people, I thought I would never bother going to my high school's reunion, but as it got closer I loosened up to the idea and thought, eh- it might be fun. In the end, it wasn't worth the extra, unplanned trip home.

I think this situation is indicative of a certain aspect of my personality-- one that some people probably don't like. I cut my losses. A friend once said about me, responding to another person who was critcizing my tendency to "drop friends," that when my friendships change, I'm realistic about it. That is a nice way of putting it. In truth, I'm envious of those who can let more roll over their back, facebook everyone, hang out with whoever and always enjoy it.

My bottom line is this: although I respect that people are different, if there is someone whose values I really don't agree with, who I don't think is a good person (or has too many hang-ups to present herself as one), who I don't feel loves me as a friend, I am not going to waste my time. I do think it's my job as an adult to be polite to such a person. But I really won't go out of my way to nurture a friendship either.

Luckily, every member of this blog has been an amazing friend to me. And I have several more goodies too- I'm talking to you, migrainegirl. I have you chicks (and a few dudes) to thank for being such an exclusive biatch. If y'all (FYI- I'm trying to switch to 'y'all' from the gross yet culturally pervasive 'you guys') weren't so supportive and fun, I'd probably seek superficial reinforcements elsewhere. I think most of you are the same way. I'm up for a reunion with any of you ladies, any time.

Blast to the Past

2009-05-28T00:01:00.000-04:00

The topic this week is reunions. I am the baby of our blogette team, thus, have yet to attend a reunion. However, I have thought many times what it will be like when I do attend my 10-year reunion. Will the stereotypes of reunions hold true? Will the jocks still be stuck in the same small-town we graduated from, unable to get over their high school quarterback glory days? Will the National Honor Society and choir kids end up incredibly successful? It is hard to tell.

One of the nice things about today’s technology is that it is much easier to keep in touch with old high school/college buddies then it ever was in the past. We have avenues such as Facebook, LinkedIn, Myspace, etc. It is fun to browse on other people’s Facebook pages, to look at their pictures, and try to figure out what direction their lives have taken. In some regards, this can take much of the surprise out of reunion experience.

I have always been curious to see if there was a way to find out how many people lie at their high school/college reunions. Do people rent or borrow fancy cars to drive up in? Do they exaggerate their success? I guess I have had this exaggerated image in my head about reunions ever since I almost peed my pants laughing with Romy and Michelle tried to convince their high school class that they had created Post-its. Is there going to be some unknown person from my very small high school class (I only graduated with 120 people) that will show up with some incredible invention or business. Possibly. Only time will tell.

Until then, I will continue to work at my own goals and ambitions and ensure that I don’t feel inadequate at my life accomplishments when the time comes for my reunion.

Romy and Michelle

2009-05-27T12:01:00.000-04:00

I have an angry friend who says he wants to have a reunion so he can make everyone feel bad about themselves.

Let me explain.

I live close to the home where I grew up, and travel there on weekends. Because its a beautiful resort town, people who went to high school there are reluctant to leave. And because its a small town, you can't go to pick up some milk without seeing someone you've known forever. Someone who knows your dog's name, who knows you were trying to get a job at the big-city news corporation last spring. A guy from my graduating class owns the local fisherman's pub, we call it "the Fish." His band plays there Friday nights. At the beach I know all the lifeguards; and the girls sitting in the sand are light years from high school days, now married and bringing their babies to the beach in little bonnets and little bathing suits.

We didn't have a 5-year reunion. Didn't have a 10-year one either. It just didn't feel necessary- since most of us see each other all the time anyway. Though, the real reason we haven't had a reunion is because no one wanted to pony up and plan it, which is shameful, yet humorously reminiscent of our high school spirit. Go class of 1998.

I saw an old friend a few weeks ago- our class valedictorian. He's now at a prestigious business school, travels the world with his genius girlfriend. They are destined for prep-school parenthood. I'm not really fazed by it. But I'm not really fazed by much of anything that any one's been up to since graduation, including myself. I suppose I feel like we all sort of follow the trajectory we've been on since grade school. I don't feel judgmental or surprised about how things have turned out.

But this friend of mine- he seems to have been carrying it with him for years. And by "it" I mean, a desperate desire to prove himself to the kids of our graduating class. Apparently he's burned by 4 years of what he considers social underestimation and bullying-- none of which I ever remember happening to him. I think if he was really teased, or if kids ignored him-- it was subtle and I didn't notice it, and I was his friend, I think I would have known that was going on.

Anyway, that's not the point. When I saw him last he said he wanted to have a reunion so he could point and laugh at everyone for what they've become. Those are his exact words. I suppose he plans to simply ridicule by comparison of his own success, make everyone jealous? Or maybe he plans to literally point and laugh.

I kept my thoughts to myself (except now): But, no one's going to care. If someone really wanted to go to the best business school in the country, he would have tried as hard as my friend has and made it happen, or come close enough to it.

Also, only someone who has really made it could evoke the kind of jealousy my friend is hoping for-- who does my friend think he is, James Bond? Is he going to rent an Aston Martin for the night? Aren't there better things to do with one's money and energy, but to waste it on some grown-up kids who have totally different ideas of value and success than he does?

And anyway, lots of people have done outstanding things with their lives- things they consider outstanding anyway, like beginning a family or living the dream on the beach with a surfboard 365 days a year. My friend would have to have invented the Post It, or enter the reunion by being lowered from a helicopter, or have choreographed a really cool dance to do in the middle of the cafeteria for when they play our prom song, to really impress people.

I mean, "point and laugh"? Really? How could anyone care that much, 10 years later. How could anyone give people such importance, especially people who he was placed with randomly, not by choice, not filtered down and grouped by industry-- pure chance.

Reunion S***Show

2009-05-26T00:01:00.001-04:00

Last spring, HT and I attended our fifth college reunion. We travelled back to the idylic hillside where we'd fallen in love, not entirely certain what to expect for the weekend. I had the joy of celebrating the wedding of some dear friends this past weekend who graduated the year behind us will be heading straight back to their five-year at the end of the week. They, and a handful of other guests inquired if we'd attended last year, and I couldn't help but laugh when they asked us what to expect.

Five years out of college, reunion is a big excuse to pretend that you are still capable of drinking in the same volume you did in college. Most of us cannot. And it is an excuse for single people to try, one last time, to hook up with the other single folks who we never had the guts to approach in college. I only know of one successful attempt at such an encounter. They "dated" for a brief period thereafter; but I'm pretty sure they're no longer speaking.

The weekend was filled with brief 10-15 minute discussions with folks you hadn't seen; acting suprised/excited/impressed to learn that they'd landed a great job/gotten into their grad school of choice/or met their future spouse. There were also the supremely awkward passing encounters with folks whose names you couldn't remember for the life of you, even though our graduating class was just over 450 students. And then there were the uncomfortable embraces with folks who remembered YOU, even though you couldn't return the favor. . .

The thing that struck me the most about our five year is that the people I really cared about from college, I had already seen or talked to recently. There were at least 10-15 people I saw who I really enjoyed catching up with; but I spent the majority of the weekend with some of the same people I already make an effort to see once a year if not more often. They are the people I already call in times of need, when we're going to be back in the midwest visiting, or even just when I've got a supreme hankering for a margarita. In other words, they're the type of friends that I don't need a reunion to give me an impetus to call. They're the friends that even though you've spread across the country, you still feel close to.

And so, surrounded by the same support system that has guided me in to adult hood, we took it upon ourselves to attempt, like the others around us, to be as young and rowdy as we were in college. We stole wine from our catered dinner and passed the bottle around the back of the auditorium at the concert we were attending. We stayed up until somewhere close to dawn dancing in the same lounges that we frequented as students; and I'm pretty sure I drank from a wine-bladder removed from a box of wine owned by some random group of men who graduated in the 80's in a game known as "slap the bag." I awoke with bruises all over my arms and legs of which, to this day, I am not entirely certain of the origin. And I spent the entire drive home trying to curl up into the fetal position in the passenger seat, wretching in pain from the night before.

In other words, my five year was a certifiable S*&% Show; so I wish my friends the best of luck as they head out there this weekend. May they not need the highly durable bookstore bags as much as I did on our trip home. . .

4 Reunions and a Funeral

2009-05-25T11:30:00.001-04:00

This past week has certainly been a week of reunions for me.

Reunion1: I had the luxury (and trust me, it is a luxury in this economy when someone flies somewhere just for the day to hang out with you) of meeting a friend in Dallas for a Rangers game. We both flew in that morning (he was supposed to get there the night before, but due to the first of several flight complications, he got there about 10 am the morning of the game). I arrived with not a minute to spare (okay, really about 15 minutes to get my bag checked for my return flight, catch a cab, and get to the game) because of some additional flight complications and some terrible weather somewhere in the country. Isn’t the issue always weather somewhere. We only missed the first inning, but had enough time before my return flight to see the whole game. And what a game it was. This may not mean a lot to those of you who don’t know a thing about baseball, but there was a walk-off HR in the bottom of the ninth that won it for the Rangers. And we got to see it all from the third row. What a fabulous day?! Not only was the game great, but I got to catch up with an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in almost five years. And the best part is, he was exactly the same. And I knew he would be. As predictable as the sun rising. Only we’d both matured and gotten to the point where we can laugh about the stupidity of the way we acted in college. I think if it was five years before we saw each other again (and I really hope it’s not!), it would feel the same way.

Reunion2: After the return flight (which was a return flight to the ‘Burg for him, but really more like a second leg after a long, long layover in Dallas for me) I got to NOLA on Thursday night where I was to spend the weekend. I had arranged to have lunch with a friend from college (we were friends freshman and sophomore years when she played soccer and we lived on the same hall, but not really after that. Don’t know why….) the next day. I found out that she was living there through the alumni magazine and sent her an email letting her know I was in town (for the last time, sad!) to see if she wanted to get lunch. She falls into that second group of friends from years past. Not the ones like Pittsburgh who haven’t changed at all since college, but one of those friends who is completely different. Husband, check. More grad degrees, check. Baby, check. Different outlook on life, check. Anyway, I remember her as being this real goof-off from college (and luckily she admitted that she wasn’t very good at school. But not that it matters now….you’ll see where I’m going). It turns out she married the boyfriend from sophomore year (and the reason she later dropped off the face of the Earth) who’s now a doctor. Which means that while she got an MBA (just killing time while he was in med school), she’s a full-time stay at home mom. Who doesn’t work. And doesn’t ever want to work. Wants to stay at home with children if only because that means she won’t have to work .Love it!! It was nice to catch up with her and sort of get the scoop on what happened after sophomore year. I had also been to her house in Houston and vacation house on Galveston Bay, so it was nice, as well, to get an update on her parents. Her gramma makes the best cakes and pies of anyone in the world. And I mean that. At no offense to either GrammaMondays. Long story short, she’s doing exactly what she wants to be doing, and I’m happy for her. It’s her plan to not have to work, to just stay at home (with the cutest, calmest 10-month old I’ve ever seen. Truly. He just gurgled and cooed for about 4 hours in the heat of NOLA while we lunched. It made me want a baby).

Reunion3: This one is short because it’s still on-going. I went to NOLA to bring my hunnie home. He’s been down there for 3 and a half years, but has a new job that he’s starting next month. So I went down there to pack, celebrate a last weekend in one of my favorite cities (I drank Abita, wore beads, ate at my favorite places, scarfed down jambalaya on my way to Harrah’s , won $20 on slots, and generally sweated myself to death). Then I had the pleasure of following a 16’ moving truck across the county in a 15-hour drive on Monday (don’t worry, we stopped at Ikea, so it wasn’t all painful). But I got my baby home. If only for the next month.

The Funeral. The Family dog passed away Friday afternoon after a long, hard-fought battle with bone cancer. The dog has been “dying” since the end of February when he was diagnosed with one to two months to live. This spring has been a really hard one for DaddyMonday, who got this dog from a puppy seven+ years ago. They’ve weathered countless storms (including HurricaneLinda, my former stepmom) and are really each other’s closest friends. Many of you would think, “it’s just a dog,” but for us Mondays, regardless of whether it is a dog or not, we get very attached, very easily. And this wasn’t just any dog. He really was something special and seemed to be very in-tune with dad. I won’t go into all the dog’s wonderful attributes, but will say that this is a huge loss to our family. So please keep DaddyMonday in your prayers.

Reunion4: Before I left for my whirlwind trip across the South last week, I dropped off GirlFairway to stay with dad and his dog. It worked out so that I saved money on the kennel (aka, sleep-away camp), she got to say goodbye to his dog (I will humanize her for these purposes…), and his dog got some company during the day when dad was at work. Turns out she was really freaked out the first several days she was there. It’s not like going to dad’s is something new for her. In her three years, we’ve probably been there 50+ times. But apparently she could tell the dog was sick. She stayed away from him and dad, retreating to the bed in the guest bedroom. But at some point last weekend, she mad a complete 360, instead choosing to be right there with his dog, laying close, but not touching him, at all times. So Sunday DaddyMonday called and asked (instead of me swinging by on our drive back) if she could stay. So she stayed until then end, being there to comfort both dad and his dog Friday when they both needed it the most. But that means I’ve been away from my dog for almost two weeks! Sunday was the reunion of all reunions. I’m just kidding. GirlFairway, for those of you who know her, is not one to show excitement. AT ALL. So I think she’s happy to be back, but she’s still a little skittish, I think, from all the stress of the last week. We’re going to have to get her some doggie therapy.

Off Topic Saturday

2009-05-23T16:47:00.000-04:00

As Girl Friday pointed out, the universe works in hilarious ways. Presumably like my fellow weekday dishers, I was hard pressed to find time to sit down with blogger this week-- but for me it was because I was on the road in the deep south. My first trip there, ever.
So, this Girl Wednesday wanted to take a few minutes this Saturday to think about what I witnessed and to see what yaw'll think about it.
Having grown up in a part of Long Island that's so heavily visited by people from New York City, and having grown up to move there, I usually have a hard time figuring out what draws people to live in parts of the country that do not at least somewhat frequently interact with city folk.. Not to mention places that are planes, trains, and automobiles away from the Big Apple. (I fully recognize my ignorance here, is equivalent to one's small-town mentality. I am not proud of this by the way).
My producer and I drove from the airport in New Orleans to Gulfport, Mississippi. A three hour trip. We drove the low bridge that hovers over boisterous muddy waters, the humid green of the bayou, the endless stretch of rolling highway surrounded cavernous woods in the brightest greens I've ever seen. We switched highways, briefly passing through bursts of oversized strip malls; then, less populated areas with mom-and-pop truck stops surrounded by small junk yards, antique shops, and magnolia trees.
Right before we hit the gulf, there was a long row of fast food restaurants, and a vacant border town.
Then-- remnants of old southern mansions dotted the coast, amid sun-bleached sand and blue water: Long Beach, Gulfport, Biloxi, Bay St. Louis and Pass Christian- where hurricane winds and waters have left almost nothing of a sleepy, happy town.
I was sort of knocked off my feet by the beauty- especially of Pass Christian- which actually felt so much like home, I was surprised when people spoke and a southern drawl came out.
We were there interviewing hurricane survivors for a show we're working on. And speaking with these people, who so loved their home that literally not hell nor high water could convince them to live someplace else, made me realize that maybe not everyone cares about New York City and wishes they were there. And maybe I am still lucky that the vegetable of the day in my neighborhood will never be "fried-red-beans-ma'am," but it doesn't mean that its the only place I'll ever love and call home. Maybe I'll find a place that I'd cling to a tree for, in the middle of 200 mile-per-hour winds, walk home barefoot, and then go rebuild my home, right where it stood before the storm wiped it out to sea.

The Diamonds in the Rough

2009-05-22T12:35:00.005-04:00

I think it's hillarious that only GirlTuesday has posted so far. Even I am several hours late as you can see. It's funny how the universe works. Even though we are all living totally different lives, we all find ourselves extremely busy on the same week. Except for GirlTuesday- she has tons of time. J/K! She's probably the busiest, but also the most responsible.

I thought a lot of teachers in my school district were deplorable. When I was in 4th grade and we did a Social Studies unit on our town, my teacher insisted that our town was incorporated. It's not. I got that fact wrong on the test, even though I was actually right, but the test ending up being thrown out anyway because it was so poorly constructed. Yup, teachers that can't write a decent exam for 4th graders learning about their hometown. That's my district.

But okay, some were good. My 3rd grade teacher was extremely demanding and yelled all the time. No one wanted her. I was really scared when I was assigned to her class. But thank goodness I was. She was one of the only teachers I have had who actually pushed her kids and wanted them to literally be the best they could. 3rd grade was a crucial year for me-- it was the year I became the girl who would eventually be in all honors and AP's, and go on to elite schools and jobs. Now that is influence.

Someone else I also really appreciate is my junior high orchestra teacher. Since we had to set up our instruments before we starting rehearsing in class, a lot of students would take advantage and get to Orchestra class after the bell rang, since it was hard for the teacher to notice. But she started to. She warned us that we would get detention if we were late. But I didn't worry about it. I figured, I was a good kid, I had never gotten in trouble and I never would. Sure enough, I was late one day and she made me go to detention. I think this was also a great lesson, that you can't expect your reputation to save you, and you will lose it if you don't maintain it.

Teachers do have a lot of influence and I'm quite relieved that although there were a lot of duds involved in my education, there were also some gems.

Those who can, teach.

2009-05-19T09:10:00.000-04:00

Chalk it up to the fact that I come from a long line of teachers, but I've always had the utmost respect for academia. So I'm finding it particularly difficult to craft a blog entry about a single teacher or professor who had a significant impact on my life. The truth of the matter is, when you add up my pre-school, elementary school, middle-school, high school, college, graduate school, and law school experiences, I am the product of nearly 200 teachers. Add to that the coaches, mentors, TAs, guidance counselors, advisors, each bestowing upon me the lessons you cannot learn in a classroom, and the number approaches closer to 250.

I'd be lying to say that every single one of those 250 people imparted upon me a lesson I carry with me today. And it would be absolutely false to suggest that I enjoyed each and every class I sat through. Frankly, there were some in middle-school that I probably could have taught better than the teacher. . . BUT- I can say that who I am today because of the support and encouragement of a long line of teachers. So I thought I'd adopt yet another list highlighting the very best.

- My mom. No, I was not homeschooled. But my mom was my gifted education teacher in elementary school. I found it terribly annoying at the time, but she was, hands-down, the only teacher in the gifted curriculum that actually did well at making extracurricular actually fun and challenging. While I'm glad she didn't follow me to middle and high-school, the folks who were around when she did move up to those grades were far more fortunate than I.

- My middle school art teacher. She did far more for my brother than she did for me, but being asked to participate in extra art classes and being given the liberty to explore new mediums outside the every-day classroom instilled in me an appreciation for fine-arts that I carry with me today. It's the same love that leads me to sit, fascinated, for hours in the national gallery, staring at the same picture, and seeing something new each time.

- My ninth grade English teacher. Hands down, the scariest man on the face of the plannet. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to throw Great Expectations out the car window, down the trash chute, into the pool, or off the deck while reading it the summer before I started high school as part of our assigned reading; but the fundamentals of grammar, composition, and critical reading we built during that year-long course planted the seads of the writer and reader I would eventually become.

- My junior and Senior year English teachers. They were the best of friends and the best of teachers. Quirky in a way that I would only later come to realize typified the best of the English profession, they walked me through the woods with Walden and Dillard; guided us to the town square with Hester Pryne; and took us to the Bull Fights with Ernest Hemmingway. Sure, there was Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye and Hamlet and all the "typical" high school thomes. But then there was As You Like It, and As I lay Dying, and Portrait of and Artist as a Young Man, and the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. They taught me to pick apart the words on the pages in search of greater meaning, of aesthetic truth, and of intellectual engagement. And they taught me to put pen to paper. To show, not tell. To craft, not speak.

- My senior year government teacher. Quirkier still than the english pair, she was a rather nutty woman with more passion for the constitution than I have every witnessed. Until, of course, she introduced me to the Federalist Papers. Numbers 10 and 51. That was all we read then. It was not until college that I would come to understand her penchant for all things steeped in the great American Experiment. But, looking back, the passion that still burns deep within me began as a spark in that classrooom.

My college professors were even more important, still. My Poli Sci advisor is probably, hands down, the best mentor I've ever found. Critical yet fair, and always impassioned, she took that spark and helped me shape it into a career. My time and narrative prof helped me not only understand, but actually love Virginia Woolf. Yes, you read that correctly. My American Fiction professor turned Melville into music, and my digital imaging professor opened the world of photoshop to my fingertips.

By the time I'd reached graduate school, my thirst for knowledge had grown a bit less awestruck and a bit more focused. But the inspiration remained-- my International Security Professor taught me the true spirit of courage and service to the country. His stories from Vietnam were breathtaking, and the lessons he sought to impart, even more sobering. My political analysis professor-- a stickler for the red pen, taught me how to peel away verbiage from my prose with the fine scalple of an analyst (no, you wouldn't know it from my blogs, I know). My torts professor didn't teach me much about torts (at least my grades wouldn't seem to say so), but she did teach me about how not to let law school beat me down, but rather, how to hold my head high and succeed. And my constitutional law professor taught better than anyone I've ever met and will likely meet again.

Now that I've been forced into the "real world" and away from the classroom, these are just some of the the voices and lessons I carry with me each and every day. If only the world had more like them.

We Are Living in a Material World, and I am a Material Girl.

2009-05-15T00:01:00.000-04:00

I once heard on TV (my source for approximately 97 percent of my knowledge), that in Buddhist practice, one attempts to achieve total happiness by letting go of all material things (or something like that). So in theory, there are all of these monks or otherwise religious Buddhists meditating and hanging out and living their lives, and these people are at a place of complete contentment-- with no stuff. They have just what they need to live basically. It doesn't bother them at all that they don't have stuff, because it isn't possible to be any happier.

I can't deal with this concept. Full enlightenment and bliss sound really good. On the one hand, I don't see how you can argue with it. On other other hand, I would rather be miserable half the time and have stuff. Because I may be blissful living an ascetic life, but I would never feel the kind of bliss I feel when I buy a cool painting or bracelet or cell phone. It's a feeling I'm not willing to give up.

I wonder why I derive so much pleasure from shopping, or at least the end result- getting stuff. Is it our society? That may be part of it. It certainly wasn't my super-saver upbringing. I think it also has to do with just plain appreciating products for being pretty, or useful, or entertaining. That's probably quite an American notion, because we've created so many products in America, and so many ways to create and distribute them. Capitalism runs through our veins here, and we want stuff just like good little consumers should. And I love it. If you want to get by on less, that's fine by me. But I'm going to keep my Nike's, my Levi's, my Ann Taylor, my Coach, and my princess cut engagement ring, and holler at you later.

Marital Advice

2009-05-14T10:28:00.002-04:00

I have learned some valuable lessons over the last (married) year. One being, that shopping is a whole new ball game once you get married.

When I was single, I will be the first to admit that I was NOT good with my finances. I would buy clothes/expensive makeup as I pleased, I never really saved or budgeted, and typically just lived paycheck-to-paycheck. It never really bothered me, and I didn’t think too much about saving for the future.

Once I met my future husband, he started to show me ways that I could save my money. Little things started to add up. For example, when I went to the grocery store, I would buy the generic brand of food instead of the more expensive brand. Rarely could you really tell a difference, and it usually saved us at least $10-$20 per trip. I limited the number of lattes I was buying each week. I took a look at the things I was spending on and tried to decide if it was something I really needed or just wanted. This doesn’t seem like much, but when you are doing lots of little things like this to cut back on your spending it can really start to add up!

During this time, I also opened a Roth IRA. I started putting away just $100/month into the account. It might not seem like a lot now, but this was during my undergrad years. $100 was a lot to me back then! But, future HThursday showed me the power of compact interest and how much it would help me in the future if I started saving young.

Overall, I cut back significantly on my spending. However, it can be hard to stop buying things once you get into that habit! There were times at the beginning of our relationship that I would tell a little white lie about the amounts I had actually purchased, or if he noticed a new pair of jeans I would just say I found them in the back of my closet, etc. We didn’t have a shared bank account at that time, so I could get away with these little fibs.

Everything changed once we got married. We combined our expenses and no longer could I hide the occasional “secret” purchases I had been making!! :) Not that I had a lot, but having a shared bank account made me accountable for all the “little” purchases I make that add up (coffee here, Walmart trip there, etc). It was definitely something we had to work at those first few months. I realized that it wasn’t necessarily the spending the HThursday would get frustrated with, but rather, it was spending and not letting him know that he didn’t like. Previously, I always had the “better not to ask and beg forgiveness” mentality. I would purchase as I pleased and let him know later on. I’ve realized that if I just run it by him, and let him know that I am doing the purchasing, things are so much better. What I failed to realize was that he wasn’t telling me NOT to make the purchase. He was just frustrated when he wasn’t aware of the purchasing that was going on in our account.

So, to share a little marriage wisdom…it is always better to be upfront about your purchases when you have a combined account. By changing a few small habits in my spending it has avoided so many unnecessary arguments.

Up a Creek Without an Outfit

2009-05-13T00:01:00.002-04:00

I hate shopping! Ok that is not entirely true, because I love getting stuff... I just hate fighting crowds, searching rack after rack, choosing between things I enjoy shopping for (necklaces and evening gowns) and things I have to shop for (sensible pants), weeding out the lipstick-stained items from the sale table, waiting for a fitting room-- and by the time I get to that stage in the process I usually have to use the ladies room, which no stores in Manhattan have (not that I blame them). It's a labor-intensive process that does not come naturally to me.

At our season-one wrap party last week the weatherman, the talent for the show I work on, made the comment, "You don't like to shop? But I thought all girls liked to shop." To which I replied (in my head), "I thought all weathermen are gay." But I didn't end up saying it outloud. And anyway, I was proven wrong when he hit on one of our female producers. I don't know why I brought that up. It seemed relevant.

I write this now, preparing to go to Mississippi for work. There are thunderstorms and river flood warnings in Jackson for the week I'll be there. I'm thinking I'll need a pair of perfect dry wick, light-weight cargo pants that do not need to be hemmed or otherwise altered. I'll need a breathable rain jacket with a hood, and comfortable shoes. None of these things can make me look like an old lady, rule number one. (Though that should probably be rule number four). The thought of starting the search for these items now give me hives. It's why my sister always says that one must be in a constant state of shopping. I probably tried on a pair of perfect cargo pants once and didn't buy, because I didn't need them at the time. And here I am-- cargo-less.
My next post will be from the road.

'Til We Drop

2009-05-12T00:01:00.000-04:00

I think I am one of few Washington, DC residents who actually enjoys going down to Georgetown on a weekend day to shop. For some reason, there is something about the brick sidewalks and Federal Row-style shops that I find soothing. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that HT and I are pretty much your stero-typical preppy couple, but I think it also has something to do with the ease at which you can pop in and out of designer boutiques and chain retail stores with relative ease. Sure, navigating the sidewalks around strollers and foreigners can get down-right dangerous when there are busses and cabs whizzing past, but there’s something about the ten-block stretch of M Street NW that makes me feel very much alive.

HT and I have always enjoyed shopping together. Going to college an hour a way from retail heaven meant that when we wanted an escape from campus, we went shopping. We’d frequent one of those very artificial and expansive indoor/outdoor fake- town-square- type shopping malls in the middle of a mid-west cornfield. We’d eat our Cheesecake Factory or zip our Bar Louie beverages, check out the latest baubles at Tiffany, catch a flick at the 30-screen megaplex, and return to campus worn but refreshed from the time away.

So this past Saturday, when I returned home from the office worn and generally down on life, HT suggested that we take another such escape the next day. On Sunday, we woke up after a long, relaxing night’s, did a little bit of housekeeping, showered, and headed down to the Georgetown Waterfront for a long, leisurely brunch on the banks of the Potomac. We drank mimosas and bloody marys and people-watched the mid-day hours away at Mother’s day brunch. Toddlers in seersucker suits and sun-dresses; MILFs sporting their Tory Burch flats and couture sun-dresses; oversized sunglasses covering the awkward tween faces; all burning in the glistening late-spring sunlight. We watched the awkward embraces among inlaws and posed pictures among undergrads soaking up the final weeks of their protected youth, the terrace patio around us a bustling tapestry of society waving in the afternoon breeze.

Tipsy and satiated, we took to the streets in search of new jeans and outfits for the many weddings we have in store for us this summer. We laughed at sky-high prices; and dug through racks looking for good deals. HT bought a tie; I bought a dress; and we ducked in and out of new stores and old haunts; making sure to stop in to the boutiques with fresh-baked cookies and free bottled water to help us over the late afternoon lull.

As my feet started to ache from the trendy sandals I’d insisted upon wearing, we trudged slowly back to the garage to the car; weaving once more around churchgoers and tour groups, wedding parties, and valets. Having failed to find the suit he was seeking, HT and I headed north to yet another retail neighborhood—this time a department store, in search of more options in a single expanse. We closed out a few stores, validated our parking, and headed homeward.

After a few more errands on the way, we collected our wears and wandered, somewhat wearily towards our apartment. I whipped us up a quick salad, HT opened a bottle of wine, and we dropped, satisfied, onto our welcoming couch. Our escape -- a success.

Forever 21? Target!

2009-05-11T11:01:00.000-04:00

I’m feeling a little passionate about a subject this week, so I’m stretching our topic so I can include it. Oh, and I’m sorry for the missing blog post last Monday. It just wasn’t going to happen. The Man’s got me down.

Anyway, I went shopping over the weekend. And not just any trip, a trip to the far reaches of the back of my memory. I used to live outside the South. I know, it’s hard to believe (and it’s really not technically outside the South, but trust me, it is. Kind of like living in Miami. Hot – check. Humid – check. Sweet tea abundance – nope. NOT THE SOUTH). Anyway, it was a great time in my life, and I had great friends who I miss a lot. So I went back for the weekend to attend the engagement party of one of my group’s central members.

It was a lot like going shopping in the back of my mind. Trying desperately to find that connection with people that I definitely connected with almost six years ago. But six years is a long time and people change. I know I’ve changed. It was probably the most confusing, frustrating shopping adventure I’ve ever been on (even more so than the time DaddyMonday and I got really lost getting to the Mall of America…). It felt a lot like that scenario where you finally find time in your schedule to do a little shopping and you need some things (as opposed to situations where you have to run into, say, Target for toothpaste and come out with jeans, a new bathing suit, a hair straightener, furry socks, two birthday cards, pink towels, and an $8 magazine) only you spend 3 hours walking around the mall and for once can’t find anything. And it’s doubly frustrating because for once you WANT to spend some money.

That’s how I felt. I wanted to make that connection all over again with these friends, but I couldn’t find it. I tried soooo hard, but with every store I went into I was coming up empty. I wanted badly to recreate the memories of 2001-2003, but it seemed like we’d all moved on to different places in our lives/careers/family, been affected by past injustices against each other, and changed personalities and priorities. Even my favorite, let’s call her Forever21, let me down. She just seemed sad and confused, and not the cheerful girl I remember. I wanted to help, and I still am always there for her, but we aren’t as close as we used to be, and I know she won’t ever reach out to me.

So as it turns out, maybe we weren’t the great pals I thought we were. Maybe I just needed them to fill a void at that time in my life, but they’re not truly the close friends I’ll have as part of my life always. Like Forever 21. A passing fad.

Anyway, this all leads me to what I’m really dying to say.

Dear Grad School Friends,

You are quite possibly the best people I know. You are all funny and smart, and most of all you care about making the world a better place to live. None of you are pretentious or over-bearing or self-satisfying. You know how to talk to anyone, in any situation, at any time. You never think you’re too good for someone (evidenced by the fact that you’re friends with me). You call when you say you will. You visit when you say you will. You always play a wonderful host when I see you. You write thank you notes and make thank you calls. You call just out of the blue to see how I’m doing. You give me high-fives (and you give yourselves high fives). You can all take a joke or a criticism, however intended or unintended it is. You ask about MommaMonday and DaddyMonday and ElwoodieMonday. And seem to genuinely want to know how they’re doing. But most of all you forgive my faults and see past my bad days. I know I am far from a perfect person, but you all know you are not perfect either. And you’re not trying to be or worse trying to pretend you are. You have cute kids, and well-behaved dogs, and nice husbands or wives, and generous families. And I miss you all so much, especially after I got to have dinner with one (okay 3!) of you before my big event Saturday night.

So I wanted to use today to say thank you. You’re the perfect store to shop in. You’re the Target of friends. And I love you all.

Career Non-Ambition

2009-05-08T00:01:00.003-04:00

When I was at my first job out of college, I took a long, hard look at what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. It was hard to say, and looking back, I can see why. I was doing fine for my age, but I had a long way to go in terms of maturity and self-assuredness. But, I was also really unhappy at my job and I knew I had to figure something out. Climbing that particular corporate ladder was not going to happen, and for those of you who know which ladder that was, you know how glad I am that I got off.

The day that I found out I was accepted into graduate school was a very happy one. I got into my dream school- small program, cool city, and a subject matter that really interested me. But I was more excited to leave my job than anything else. No more doing work that didn't hold my interest, no more dealing with truly awful bosses, no more feeling underpaid, no more miserable commute. My co-workers, who I had grown close to, were happy for me, but I knew they were filled with other emotions when I made my announcement. As supportive as they were in congratulating me, they were also disappointed-- in themselves-- for not taking their own steps to get out of their crappy positions.

I love change. And in the words of Fiona Apple, I'm good at being uncomfortable. It is easy for me to identify something about my life I don't like, and therefore, take steps to change it. I'm not saying I'm an amazing woman of action. Sometimes the situation you're in in life necessitates that you patiently wait it out. At the same time, I'm really thoughtful about what I want my life to mean and I feel like every day, I'm working toward it, not just biding my time.

I really enjoy the work I'm doing now, which is not to say that it's perfect. But I do work from home, which I really love, and I have the time to take care of my home, my husband and my dog, which are my favorite things to do with my spare time. Obviously, taking care of a home and a family is not very lucrative. Yet I feel the income I am making at the moment will allow me to devote more and more time to my home in the future. It may sound kind of insane that my biggest passion in life comes down to child/doggie care, housecleaning, cooking, and decorating-- but it is what it is. And, I think doing all of that properly is a full-time job.

In thinking about my future and the things that I get out of having a career, I also feel melancholy when considering what I may be giving up. However, I think helping a family be productive is an extremely important role. Maybe many women could do it as well as I could while having thriving careers, but I don't think I can, at least not when I'm a young mother (meaning that the kids are young, not me!). And I like the idea of my time outside the home being completely selfless- volunteering to help those who truly need it. Again, this scenario is not a lucrative one. But I'd rather make do on less and not feel the pressure of pleasing an unreasonable boss and scheming through workplace politics. So I guess in the end, my passion is to not have a job. I don't know how realistic that is these days, but hopefully my future reality can resemble my greatest hopes, if only faintly.

My Life

2009-05-07T06:39:00.000-04:00

I never would have guessed that I would have ended up at the company I work for today when I graduated from college almost two years ago. Over the past two years I have developed my professional skills and I have become accustom to working in a corporate setting. While I have had lots of great career opportunities over these past two years, there are so many passions I have outside of work that I would like to dedicate more time to in the future.

I love standing in a mountain river, casting my fishing line, as the cold water rushes across my legs. I love the serene and peaceful atmosphere experienced during long runs on back-wood trails. I love the smiles children get on their faces when time is taken to help with and participate in activities that they really enjoy. I love attending musicals and quietly singing along with the songs as the actors perform on stage. There are so many things that I love doing that I wish I would have spent more time pursuing over these past few years.

My husband always tells me to think about what I REALLY want to accomplish during my life and find a way to pursue those goals. Considering that I am awake roughly 16 hours a day, and roughly 9 hours of this time is spent at work five days a week, it is easy for me to understand how time seems to disappear. While I understand why I have not been pursuing some of the things I love over the past few years as much as I would like, I cannot really accept this fact any longer.

One of my biggest fears in life is that twenty-five years into the future I will look back and have regrets about not accomplishing all that I wanted to during my life. I do not believe that in twenty-five years my life will be over, but my opportunity to accomplish many of my life goals will have vanished. For this reason I have made several promises to myself. I have promised myself that the next professional job I have will be one that I truly have a passion for and that will enable me to pursue something I am passionate about. I have promised myself that my family will always be my first priority, and I will always work hard to keep meaningful relationships with those that I love. I have promised myself that I will do my best to make my children’s dreams become reality, but also dedicate time for my own personal dreams. Lastly, I have promised myself to make a difference in this world, and make a difference in the lives of others.

While there will always be days that seem to drag on forever, overall time passes by far too fast. Before I know it I will be an elderly woman spending more time reflecting on the life I lived, and hopefully spending time with my grandchildren. Before that day comes, many more days will pass. This had led me to an important realization; while I cannot slow the passing of time, I can choose how I will live whatever time I have remaining.

People Say I'm Crazy Doing What I'm Doing

2009-05-06T00:01:00.002-04:00

In 2004 I sat down and had a very serious discussion.. With myself. I was like, "This is ridiculous. You don't like what you do, you don't want to go to law school, you don't even want to be a lawyer!" And I was all, "You're totally right this is ridiculous." And then I broke out into song: "who am I ANYWAY? Am I my RESUME? Which is a picture of a person I DON'T KNOW..." For those who didn't recognize that, it's a song from "Chorus Line," a song I found- and continue to find- completely tragic.

I was a paralegal, and had been for 3 years after graduation. I found my first job listed in the New York Times, classified section. It was at an enormous law firm, where I was placed in a windowless room, filled with hundreds of ancient cardboard boxes, each filled with thousands of dusty sheets of microfilm. The films contained lists of numbers. I was looking for a specific combination of numbers. Really, I think they just wanted someone to clean up the mess.

My second job was at personal injury/insurance defense firm, where the managing partner spent all his time at the Dojo. His secretaries would find him there when someone at the courthouse would call to inform us he'd missed all his appearances for the day. I left before he ran his firm into the ground. The next job I took was at a large, intellectual property firm with lots of youngish lawyers, who all told me to get out while I still had a soul.

On top of all this circumstantial pessimism that surrounded me-- I hated paralegal work. It felt I was pushing paper around, label making, and FedEx'ing. To complicate things further, I enrolled in an LSAT prep course, and I had no business sitting in that classroom. It just wasn't for me.

So I had this meeting with myself. I went into it armed with two bits of wisdom from my favorite gals: Oprah and Madonna. I had once read an Oprah quote-- that she firmly believes that there's something for everyone on this planet. Each person has their purpose based on what they're good at. And everyone is good at something.

I also once read a Madonna quote-- it's not that most people don't know how to get what they want, it's that most people don't know what they want.

Drowning in paralegal work was sort of like an out-of-body experience. I didn't really think I was destined for this type of work. It felt all wrong. Distracted, I was forgetting what I was good at. And I couldn't really figure out what I was working toward. It felt like I was killing time-- until what? I was lost and I was scared because I knew- this was how people get stuck. So when I had my one-person conference call, I decided I was going to put all my bets on my strongest offering, my favorite pasttime- my writing. I decided to apply to journalism school.

Two years after graduate school, I'm a much happier person. I don't fully believe that doing what you love and your job have to be two separate notions. Work is always going to be work, but you don't have to be miserable- if happiness is important to you. And knowing what you want isn't always the end. I often re-assess. J-school got me my first news job-- what's next? You have to keep asking yourself if you want to keep moving.

The List

2009-05-05T00:01:00.000-04:00

There is a deep irony to the fact that I began this post on my BlackBerry while waiting for a metro train well-later than the commuter rush had subsided. My job does lots of things for me- it keeps my mind sharp; on good days, it challenges me to learn new, uncharted areas of the law. It forces me outside of my comfort zone at least two to three times a week, and it provides me with the resources to keep a roof over our heads, food on our table, and clothes on our backs. Each one of those are things I should be thankful for- and in large part, I am.

But my job is not my passion. At least not at the moment. HT is fond of reminding me that there are a select few who are lucky enough to do what they love for a living. The rest of us spend our lives searching for something that pays the bills so that we can do what we love on weekends and holidays.

The good thing about starting off on a career in this day in age is that, unlike our grandparents’ generation that worked that worked their way up through the rank and file from mailroom clerk to CEO with the same firm, company, or agency, Gen Y-ers will spend their life in a range of different jobs. Some related, some entirely unrelated. Some of us may follow the “traditional” model of advancing within a single corporate entity, but others of us will bounce about and be alright with that.

And it’s the ability to bounce that keeps me grounded while waiting for the train at night or driving to the office on a Saturday morning. You see, I have a hard time identifying a single passion that drives me right now. At twenty-eight, I would be lying to say that I have identified my life’s passion. Rather than a single goal or ambition, I have a mental list of next steps which I am patiently waiting to take. It is a bucket list of job titles I hope to check off in pursuit of that one occupation that allows me to truly love what I do. I’m not talking about “dream” jobs like replacing Erin Andrews as an ESPN sideline reporter, writing hotel reviews for Travel & Leisure Magazine, or opening a restaurant specializing in Brunch. I’m talking about a range of jobs which involve a greater degree of public service. I’m talking about teaching college, writing speeches for politicians or public figures, or serving as a legal policy advisor within the Federal Executive Branch. I’m talking about being open to opportunities as they arise—being willing to give up the big pay check in hopes of greater inner-rewards. And I’m talking about being willing to adapt and let work take a back seat to family at the appropriate times, as well.

So I suppose, for now, my passion is keeping my eyes open. And that hope will have to sustain me for the time being.

Working Blog

2009-05-04T18:13:00.002-04:00

G'Mony is currently experiencing chaos at work that has left her stressed and without any spare time to blog. She will have to assume the role of Saturday blogger this week. Apologies to all.

Roswell That Ends Well

2009-05-01T00:01:00.002-04:00

The concept of time travel excites me because it reminds me of one of my most favorite shows- for once, I'm not talking about Felicity- but instead, the AMAZING Futurama. If you've never seen this show, you need to start. It was once on FOX, but was foolishly canceled. Much like Family Guy, after it left the air it gained a huge cult following thanks to Adult Swim (adult programming) on the Cartoon Network. They have recently released four full-length Futurama feature films straight-to-DVD, but to be honest, the quality is not really the same as the orig. They play the old episodes, as well as the new movies, on Comedy Central, usually at 9PM and 1 AM on weekdays. You will thank me!

Anyway! Here's what the series is about. It's basically a really funny, satirical, science-fiction cartoon. I am not usually a fan of sci-fi, but I can see why people become obsessed with it. A lot of it involves really interesting story lines and character studies. So the main character in Futurama is Philip Fry. He is your typical turn-of-the-century twenty-something slacker. On New Year's Eve, 1999, he's delivering a pizza to a lab that cryogenically freezes people, and accidentally get frozen. He then awakes 1,000 years later and meets a colorful cast of characters who have various adventures in the New New York in the year 3000. Not only is this show incredibly witty and full of social commentary, there is some amazing overarching plot lines going on. For example, you watch the show for over a year before it's revealed that Fry's freezing was not at all a random accident. Actually, it deals with the fate of the universe. When you realize the planning that went into sketching out the long-term story lines, you can't help but be impressed. I also love many of the stories contained in particular episodes. My very favorite is the one about Fry's brother, Yancy, and what happened to him after Fry went "missing" in the 21st century. And I can't watch the episode about Fry's old dog- it is so moving. Whenever I see the title "Jurassic Bark" in the TV listings, I very swiftly change the channel.

There's one episode in particular that deals with time travel. I forget the scientific reasoning behind how the crew was transported to 1947 New Mexico, but it had something to do with some sort of eclipse and stove-top popcorn being placed in the microwave. Fry is told by the Professor (also a distant nephew of Fry's, although he is a really old man) not to mess with anything in the past because even the smallest action can cause massive changes to the future (don't we all know that?). Fry knows that his grandfather is stationed there, at Roswell Army Base, and decides to spy on him. Then Fry decides that his grandfather is completely unsafe and he needs to save him. I won't totally spoil the ending, but I will say that Fry's involvement leads to some insane consequences. The "B" story line is also extremely entertaining. Dr. Zoidberg, a hideous lobster-man who works with Fry, gets discovered by the Army. He ends up being the alien found in Area 51. I can't explain why it's so funny, you just have to see it. Anyway, it's one of my faves.

My closing thoughts on time travel are this. I agree with GirlWednesday- you must feel like you are on Mars- time, is in a sense, a place, and traveling through time means you are going somewhere you have never been before. It must be disorienting and scary. But the crux of Futurama is the idea that Fry didn't have things all that great back in 1999. Sometimes he missed "home", but he soon came to realize that in the year 3000, he has people who care about him, and a purpose. The lesson is universal-- home is where, and when, the heart is.

Fast Forward

2009-04-30T00:01:00.001-04:00

When I think back on my short-lived life thus far there are absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, things that I wish I would not have done. I chose not to spend quality time with family members who are no longer here, there were times that I drank too much at college parties, and other moments where I lied to my family about things they eventually found out about. None of these things I am particularly proud of, nor would I repeat them if I could go back and do things again. However, I don’t think I would want the opportunity to go back and change things if I had the chance. As most of my fellow blogettes have mentioned, the hard things I went through shaped who I have become and have made molded me into who I am today.

Knowing that, I was having a hard time this week deciding what to write about. If I wouldn’t go back in time and change things…then what would I do?? All of the sudden two things happened: 1) I felt the baby kick for the very first time (I mentioned this briefly in a past blog….but I am about 20 weeks along with a little boy right now). And 2) I realized that I didn’t want to go back in time – I wanted to look forward!

There are so many questions I have for my future self and future family. I wonder what my children will look like. Will they have my big eyes or HubbyThursday’s cute and irresistible grin? Will they be athletic and captains of their sport teams? Will they be intelligent, well-spoken, and leaders of their classes? Will they appreciate theatre and music? Will they learn to build meaningful relationships? Will they be leaders and activists in their communities? The list goes on and on!! I want my future children to have so many opportunities and I hope they have the mindset to truly do anything they choose.

I wish so badly I could go forward and see how everything is going to turn out. My life right now has the opportunity to go is so many different directions and I wish terribly I knew which road I am going to take. Where is my career going to lead? How many children will I have? Etc, etc , etc.

One of my greatest fears is that I will get older and forget how hard I had to work to get there. I was the oldest of a huge family and growing up we didn’t have much. When I was seven I held my first job delivering newspapers. In high school I worked two jobs, was a Varsity athlete, and involved in almost every club our school had to offer. In college I waitressed at two restaurants, held positions in Student Body Government, competed in pageants, and was a three-sport Varsity athlete (cross country, indoor track & field, outdoor track & field), and graduated with honors. It was hard. There were times that I was jealous of my friends whose parents paid for all their education and had the benefit of being able to focus solely on their academics. But it taught me the importance of working hard and truly earning every accomplishment I achieved. When I came across challenges, I worked through them. Sometimes I succeeded and sometimes I failed, but I learned that it was impossible to succeed if you never attempt a challenge. Today, I know I am more successful and well-rounded because of the situation at hand when I was younger.

I fear that if HubbyThursday and I work hard to provide nice things for our children they won’t have this sense of accomplishment we were able to create for ourselves. It is so important to me that our children never think that they are “entitled” to anything, or that they are better than their peers because of accomplishments their parents have achieved. Don’t get me wrong….we haven’t even gotten to that point yet in our lives. We still have massive amounts of student debt and will still be living like poor college students for the next few years. However, I have no doubt in my mind that we will be successful some day.

If I could fast forward ten/fifteen years I would remind my future self that this is how I feel. I would remind my future self that I don’t want to drive fancy cars or own shiny things. It’s not important to have the biggest house, or the fanciest vacations. What is important is that we make it to all our kids’ track meets and basketball games. That we are there for each one of their parent/teacher conferences and can help them after school with their homework. That we are there for them when they have a terrible break-up and come home in tears, or when a mean junior-high girl makes fun of them. Most importantly, I never want to forget that our family is THE most important thing. Period. And that you can never give up on those you love the most.

So, as I am writing here feeling the baby kick (he is very little – not even a pound yet!) I have realized there is really no way I will be able to see what the future will hold. All I can do is hold myself accountable for my actions and constantly remind myself how I want to live my life and the values I want to instill on my children and future family. I have made mistakes in the past, and I know I will make mistakes in the future. I have confidence, however, that if I surround myself with people whom I love and care for my life will be full of fulfillment.

Life on Mars

2009-04-28T23:09:00.007-04:00

When I picked the topic of time travel, it was fresh on my mind. I had just watched the last episode of a great show, "Life on Mars." A show about a man, 40-ish in 2009, who's forced to live in the year 1973. This man hated it in 1973-- especially when he was faced with his toddler self and was given the opportunity to talk to himself about his father abandoning the family. To serve sort of as a mentor. He didn't want to at first, because he didn't want his toddler self to know what a dark and cynical man he'd become.

This man tried desperately, for the two years the show ran, to get out of 1973.

I think if any of us were forced back in time, to a period of our lives, knowing what we know now, it'd be as strange and as scary as being planted on the planet Mars. And I wonder-- how tough would it be to resist the urge to warn ourselves, or advise ourselves on decisions unmade.

There's a perfect movie moment in "My Best Friend's Wedding," where the two friends are talking on a boat deck, about how once a moment passes... it's gone. And as they say this, a cool shadow from a bridge above passes over them. Suddenly it's sunny again, and indeed the moment has passed. An opportunity gone.

At least in part, the tantalizing fantasy of time travel is defined by the possibility of going back to a moment of regret. I try not to torture myself with this too often, though I admit that for a good portion of my life, I've been obsessed with regret. I have a fear of regret so great that I fear I'll regret not packing every possible first aid item into my giant purse. And then my purse is so heavy, that I usually regret packing it so.

I worry I'll regret everything from not buying that splurgy sunless bronzer, to not going outside on a perfect, sunny day. What if I hadn't gone to Key West on spring break? Would I have regretted not doing that sort of thing, looking back on my college life? Would I regret not ordering something more daring from the menu? Would I regret not riding the roller coasters in Disneyworld? Would I regret not studying abroad in Florence?

While thinking of all these things leaves me on the verge of a headache-- I think my greatest fear, is that I could potentially regret not fulfilling the expectations I had for myself as a child. I wanted to be a dozen different things- detective, hot-air balloon operator, lawyer, explorer, entrepreneur... And I wanted to take the world with me on all my adventures. I wanted people to look forward to these adventures the way I looked forward to reading "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," and watching "Flight of the Navigator." I don't think hovering in obscurity, or even normalacy-- known only to my family, friends and teachers was something I ever dreamt for myself. In fact, I wanted to be great.

As an adult, the book, "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," only fueled my fears and obsessions. This one hit me hard. Two generations of women-- the daughter became a famous writer. The mother was once young, vibrant, full of dreams and energy and charm- shouting her lofty aspirations from the back of her friend's speeding, red convertible, that she was going to be a star. That same woman grew old, lamenting-- she "could have done something," "could have been something great." Could have...

I can't.

I can't, I refuse to give myself cause to look back on my life that way. I'm going to keep plugging forward at full speed until I don't know what. I don't know when I'll stop. But I just can't, won't, shudder to think I might one day be an old and tired woman wishing for a time machine to take her back to Mars.

A letter to my eighteen-year-old self

2009-04-28T00:01:00.000-04:00

A few weeks before I graduated college, my mom called my dorm room to tell me that a very odd letter had arrived in a self-addressed envelope, but postmarked in my home town. Given the impossibility of my being two places at once, curiosity got the better of her and she called seeking permission to open it.

The contents—a letter. The author—eighteen-year-old GirlTuesday. The pristine pen strokes stretched across three pages of Five-star college ruled paper, serifs crafted with the authority and care of a confident yet uneasy hand. The tightly-crafted prose portrayed a miniature time-capsule snap shot of my mental musings at one naïve and narrow-minded moment of youth. The assignment—write a letter to yourself upon your college graduation. What do you want to say to the future you? What do you think you’ll be doing? Where will you be living? What will you have accomplished?

As soon as I realized what it was, I insisted that my mother stop reading. What could I have possibly have had to say, at eighteen, to my adult self? And, more importantly, did I dare share it with my mother?

In reality, my predictions were simple. My eighteen-year-old self expected that I would be graduating from the wrong college (I had not, in fact, gotten in to the one I’d predicted in that letter); marrying my high school boyfriend (we broke up two weeks after my arrival at college); finishing up my final season of swimming (I’d quit two years earlier); majoring in the wrong subject (I’d switched from Psychology to English and Political Science); and heading to law school in the fall (this alone was true). But more than the relative inaccuracy of the predictions, the thing that struck me most about that letter was the sheer simplicity of it. My eighteen-year-old self had not ventured to tell my adult self how much leaving home and charting my own course into adulthood would fundamentally shape my personal and professional life. My eighteen-year-old self could not have predicted the tragedy that would befall my teammates, or the precipitous international landscape into which our nation, and the world, were about to be thrust.

That letter is the closest thing to time travel I have ever experienced. And as I sat down to write this week, the question I kept posing to myself was whether, if I were able to, I would want to send a letter back from this moment in time to that eighteen-year-old me. Would I want to temp fate in disrupting the space-time continuum like Marty Mc Fly’s letter to Doc? Is there some bullet-proof vest I want to warn my younger self about?

I thought that I would write that letter here and tell my eighteen-year-old self all the things I should and shouldn’t worry about. I was going to tell myself to have more confidence, to recognize that my achievements were not simply a product of being a large fish in a small pond, to truly embrace the guidance my parents had once given that I could truly do and be whatever I would like to be when I grow up. I wanted to tell myself that there would be heartache, loss, and adversity in the ten-years between then and now. I wanted to tell myself to learn and grow and not dwell upon it. I wanted to tell myself to cherish the friendships, to hold fast to the people who mold and shape who I become, and not to let myself fall out of touch with them.

But the more I thought about it, the more I decided that I would never want to send such a letter. Getting a letter from my past was sort of a gut-check against my dreams and aspirations. It forced me to pause and see how my path had veered from where I had thought I was headed. In contrast, writing a letter from the future to a younger version of myself runs the risk of changing, fundamentally, who I am and who I have become. I’m not trying to proclaim that I enjoyed every moment of my life thus far; nor can I honestly say that I’ve learned lessons from every good or bad thing that has happened thus far. There are things I’ve said, done, and seen that I would like to take back or change. I just don’t think I want to rely on time travel to change any of it; and for now, I am thankful of that.

Flies and Walls and All That Jazz

2009-04-27T00:10:00.000-04:00

I struggled a lot with the topic this week, trying hard to make it unconventional, but yet something you all might want to read. I thought about writing on my favorite Cher songs (but there are really only two, and that wouldn’t be a blog, it would be a list because I don’t have much to say about them, they’re alright, not terrific and not worth shelling out $150 to sit in the back row of the upper deck at Caesar’s in Las Vegas to hear). I also gave some thought to boring you all with a little astrophysics rant from my early days, but the thing about physics is that it’s sort of a hard topic to put to paper without lots of mathematical symbols, equations, and back story. Plus I haven’t yet come up with the exact formula for time travel, so we’ll save that for next week. What a great idea, next time it’s my turn, the topic is MATH. Woohoo!

Anyway (GM’s most favorite segue), I’ve decided to stick to the basics and just talk about Time Travel. Straight up. No fluff, no trying to make this into some quirky, weird, highly intelligent, but slightly off-topic blog. Nope. Not this week.

As far as being able to travel backward and forward in time, I’m all for it, but leave my life out of it. I don’t often have major regrets over things I’ve done and wish I could go back and re-do them. Most of my regrets come in the form of something that’s just popped out of my mouth at the most inappropriate time or something inappropriate that’s popped out at just the right time, but is still wrong. I would go back in time to take that back since making the mistake doesn’t seem to be helping me keep my trap shut. But those are too numerous to try to list here. I also have no interest in seeing the future. Sorry – it’s not for me. Don’t want to know when I’ll die, don’t want to see how my life turns out. No thanks – if I wanted boring I’d……..well go to a Cher concert.

What I would use my GirlMonday super time travel powers for is to go back and be a fly on the wall for events of the past. But only things that are personal to me – I don’t want to get greedy with the power and lose it. So I’ll pass on the I Have a Dream Speech, or the birth of Jesus (oooooh, how nice would that be though?). I’d rather get a chance to witness my dad asking my mom out on their first date. For those of you who don’t know my parents (who have been divorced since I was 10), MommaMonday is a very type-A personality and my dad is the most amiable guy you’ll ever meet. But apparently at some point he got up the nerve to ask her out, and their first date was to a UT-Penn State football game. He was supposed to be in a Saturday class but skipped it so he could take her out and on the way to the game my grandfather (who didn’t know a thing about this – I’m almost guessing this was dad’s first date ever) passed them on the interstate. As the story goes mom was saddled up next to dad in the seat of his old Buick and he had his arm around her when he looked over and saw my grandpa just waving and grinning in the car next to them. What I wouldn’t give to have been there.

My stepfather moved out of the house he shared with MommaMonday sometime right after I left DC and moved South (always capitalized, sorry). She said he kind of went crazy right before he left, and then it got even worse afterward as they were finalizing their divorce and hashing out the finances. I have my own theories, and I’ll keep them to myself, but he was never anything but wonderful when I was around. He and my mom married when I was 11 (see timeframe in previous paragraph….uh yeah), and I was supposed to just love him right from the start. Okay, sure. I’m 11 and my parents just divorced. That’s exactly what I was going to do. But over time, he sorta grew on me. He was a lot like my dad (I guess that’s why this one didn’t last either) which meant he was an all-around nice guy. Always doing things for other people, which meant being genuinely nice to me. Plus he had interests that matched with mine that I didn’t share with either parent. He was a baseball fanatic – which meant I had someone to talk OBP, CS, and HBP with. Well when he moved out, after I moved away, we lost touch. I tried to email a couple of times, but to be honest, I didn’t try very hard. Mom was pretty upset and angry, and he seemed to be barely holding on. So I tried not to get involved. Divorce is amazing in that once one of your parents marries someone you’re supposed to immediately love them, but once they divorce, you have to turn those feelings right around and push that person out of your life. So that’s what I did – it made her happy, it was easy, and he seemed to be dealing with his own problems from the divorce. But if I could travel through the space/time continuum, I’d be there as his life was spiraling out of control, I’d be there as he alienated all of his kids, and everyone he ever knew. And I’d certainly be there that Valentine’s day he drank himself to death in a hotel room in Florida. I don’t know that I could have done anything. I don’t know that it would do anything but ease my guilt, but I could try, right?

And lastly, for my short little life so far, I would absolutely love the opportunity to be there when my baby was born. GirlFairway didn’t come to me until she was almost four months old. She has such a distinct personality; I am in constant wonderment of where it comes from. Who does the curly tail come from? The black tongue? The incredibly slow gait? The adoration for all flying insects? Was it Momma or Papa Fairway who hated water? Metal sounds? Didn’t bark? Or were they perfectly normal and she comes from some traumatic experience in those first 3+ months. If that’s the case, I would want to be there too. Not as a fly on the wall – I don’t think I could contain myself. There’s got to be a reason why her little body is racked with anxiety every day. A reason why she freaks out when we get in the car and throws up from stress. Some explanation why she has doggie nightmares that cause her to make the most painful noises. There’s a reason why if I raise my voice, for any reason, even to be heard over the washer, she pins her ears back, tucks that long, fluffy, curly tail, and slinks away from me. And if I could just be there at the moment that happened, I could do something to stop it.

If only.

The Bright Side

2009-04-24T00:01:00.002-04:00

The recession is not fun. It has affected my life quite a bit. I think about the state of the economy all the time, and I know it's just terrible and sad. However, I am a believer in GirlTuesday's philosophy. I can't help but think of the positives in life during this gloomy economic period. I choose to focus on all that is wonderful in my life. I hope I'll always be able to do that, no matter what difficulties I face. Here are some of the things that help me realize that I should be a happy person:

1. After a long, stressful day at work that had me really wound up, HusbandFriday suggested we head to Borders for a walk-around (a favorite pastime of mine) and encouraged me to purchase a French pop CD that lifted my spirits. I don't know what I'd do without my buddy there to force me out of pouty moods.

2. My husband was away last weekend, and MomFriday insisted on me calling her constantly. If I went out at night, I had to call her when I got home. I had to call her when I woke up in the morning. I got several check-in calls from her during the day. Perhaps most professional 28- year old women wouldn't be crazy about such doting, but I love it. My mom will never stop being obsessively concerned about my welfare and happiness. It may be slightly annoying at times. But it's a true blessing.

3. I have so many friends I can count on. They make me laugh (another favorite pastime) and are so wholly there for me whenever I need them. It is truly miraculous.

4. I have the best dog in the world.

5. I am healthy, as are most of my loved ones. I have plenty to eat and clothes to wear. I even have some pretty fabulous purses.

6. I love television, movies and music and have plenty of access to all of it.

7. Oh yeah, I have a job. If that changes, you may have to call me on my optimism. Until then, I'm happy.

The Recession (sorry couldn't come up with anything wittier)

2009-04-23T09:20:00.001-04:00

I have seen the recession hit the hardest at my job. I work for a large, national, privately-owned company with about 65,000 employees. Being privately owned was an area that our company took a lot of pride in. The company was started in 1957 and had never laid a single person off in the 50+ years they had been in business. This last year that all changed. We laid off about 4,000 people nationwide. People were nervous about the security of their jobs, lots of areas were restructured, pay freezes were implemented, and the office overall felt like a cemetery. People were walking around lifeless, afraid to talk to anyone!!

I work in the outside sales division for the company. I knew as long as I was performing my job wouldn’t be in jeopardy…they need the sales people to bring in revenue! Traditionally, within any company, I think the finance and sales positions are usually the safest. People need finance guys to operate the business successfully and they need the sales people to bring in the revenue.

However, this still was posing a challenge!! I work directly with other large and small businesses to generate revenue. Due to the recession/tightening economy/whatever you want to call it…many businesses are very ‘hesitant’ right now to move forward with any kind of purchases. Keep in mind, last year I brought in nearly $4,000,000 in revenue for our company. These are large purchases my customers are making! Needless to say, I spent a lot of time and hours getting creative and coming up with solutions that would help to increase cash flow for my customers, but still allow them to make their quarterly purchases with us.

Things seem to have slowly been getting better. It seemed as though after the first of the year, people were more willing to move forward with projects associated with their business. However, businesses are still downsizing and laying people off, which can affect us directly. I have learned that the relationships you build with your customers can be the most important thing during these hard times. If they can trust you to come in and make recommendations that will positively impact their business then you can stay successful.

GW Took the How Much In Denial are You Quiz...

2009-04-22T00:01:00.006-04:00

I don't want to think or write about the recession anymore. Enough already.

If you read my post last week, about how I tend to laugh more often in the face of misery, sadness and fear, then you might be onto the fact that I'm usually in a bit of denial. Sounds like it could be dangerous to be blissfully ignorant-- but I think it's what gets me through the day, and all the big, bad things life throws around.

I've found that Facebook is a really great place to not think or write about the recession.

In Facebook land, my friend just learned "what type of legal document" he is. I mean, that's amazing! He's a Res Ipsa Loquitor. I have no idea what that means, but wow what a personal milestone. Another friend took another quiz and found out she hates George W. Bush! I think she already knew that (I think her whole Facebook universe already knew that), but I'm so glad she took a quiz and found out for sure!

On Facebook, my friends are: trying to fall asleep but can't, waiting for "CSI Miami" to come on, saying happy birthday to his "homie," squealed like a pig, doing homework, going to the dojo, quoting Elvis, cheering on the Rangers-- NO ONE is talking about the recession here! I LOVE this place!

I have four friends following illness: one woman is doing physical therapy exercises after foot surgery, my old English teacher is chronicling his diet before a colonoscopy, a coworker is sitting next to her sister recovering from a stroke, and a mom is worrying about her daughter's dental problems. But I don't think any of these things are actually serious, because all these friends will be writing about something else a few minutes from now.

Just about all the girls from my high school have at least one toddler; and my former CEO announced his wife's positive pregnancy test 5 minutes ago. OMG, I had no idea what cereals that girl from 10th considered her top five, and in what order.. I probably would put Lucky Charms first, but whatever. Oh cold. Someone is so mad about a baseball game he used lots of exclamation points and now his friend is egging him on by being happy about the same baseball game and also using exclamation points. That is so rude! Refresh. God I love vaguely suicidal status updates-- that one girl really wants someone to ask her what's wrong but no, I won't do it. Someone should reply that they're "praying for her" and hope another status update interrupts the awkward silence. Watch out someone just threw a chicken! You know what, I changed my mind- I am a little uncomfortable when the pregnant girl is posting that she needs someone to cuddle with.

In this matrix there's no talk of layoffs, dissolving 401k, or shrinking savings here. In fact, people are sending each other cupcakes and mobile uploads and growing gifts and wall graffiti! People are out and shopping.. see? Everything's fine.