On the road again

So long, farewell Blogger...

2006-04-01T16:26:00.000-05:00

I'm making the move to wordpress....from now on visit me here! Adios!

Spring Fever

2006-03-29T15:22:00.000-05:00

The reality of "real life" is setting back in. Stacks of mail, bills, allergy shots, work. Boooo. I knew I had a bad case of spring fever today when I found myself looking at job postings in Miami.

So. In the spirit of enjoying the here and now, I've created a list (yay!) of things we have to do before we ever move away from NYC. I tried discussing this list with R on the plane and he just doesn't share the enthusiasm I have for checking things off. We'll have to work on that. Not that I'm trying to change him or anything. Not already. I'm not. But come on....lists? Fun, yes?

Things We - or I, but preferrably We because We is (almost) always more fun than I - Still Have Left to Do Here:

1. Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and eat at Grimaldi's
2. Visit the Statue of Liberty
3. Take a tour of the Stock Exchange
4. Go to the top of the Empire State Building together
5. Eat at Peter Luger's
6. Yankees Game (April 22nd, I know, I know. It's on the list until it actually happens.)
7. Lincoln Center - opera, maybe?
8. Circle Line around the entire island. Have only done the 1/2 island thing. Not the same.
9. Driving range at Chelsea Piers
10. Staten Island Ferry
11. Have a cupcake (or two) at Magnolia
(I'm realizing as I type this how much we actually have done already. that's nice.)
12. See a Shakespeare in the Park play this summer
13. Watch the NYC Marathon
14. Bronx zoo
15. See a game at Madison Square Garden. Hockey preferably. NBA last choice.
16. Ride the double-decker bus around the city. Why not.
17. visit The Frick

and now I'm blanking. I can't even come up with 20? That's a good sign I guess. We do try to venture out as much as our budgets have allowed. This summer should be a little more lax money-wise since we're not hemoragging wedding money.

ok. I guess I can hold out until spring is truly here. At least it's hitting 67 tomorrow. That's progress.

hola? bonjour? where am I?

2006-03-28T12:08:00.000-05:00

You know how you get back from vacation and feel like it all went by too fast? The beginning of your vacation seems decades ago but you still feel like you didn't get to really enjoy it?

I don't have that feeling. This time. First time ever. We were gone for two weeks, and it felt like a month. A perfect month that went by at just the perfect rate and contained the perfect mixture of relaxation, reconnecting, and ridiculously fun alcohol-laced moments with either friends or just each other.

Mexico was insane. Seven days of non-stop playing in the sun with friends and family, with a wedding thrown in the middle somewhere. Our wedding. Which was - to use the word again -perfect. Mexico was exhausting. I could barely function our last night there and was in bed by 9:30pm. But it was a good kind of deliriousness. A happy kind.

We were home for one night. Up five flights of stairs with an impossible amount of luggage, and he still carried me over the threshold. Because that's what you do. What he does. And he's mine.

I'd been to Paris before. Twice. But the last five days there were beyond what I remembered about the city, and much more than I had hoped for with my new husband. We just were. We walked around a lot. Sat at a bazillion sidewalk cafes. People-watched - Parisians and foreigners from all walks of life. Rode on top of a double-decker bus for two hours in the rain. The first two rows were covered, and we had the front seats. It is quite possibly my favorite memory of the trip. Riding around in the rain, but being warm and dry and just taking it all in. Nowhere to be except with each other. He kept nodding off, and I'd laugh - trying hard not to but not winning the battle. It was that peaceful up there.

We did the museums. The Arc and the Eiffel Tower at night. The things you have to do. But we didn't take a lot of pictures. We didn't cram our days full. We slept in, stayed out late, had amazing dinners and the daily jambon y mixte sandwiches for lunch with our wine.

We stopped into Notre Dame - I don't think I'd been in before. I would remember that, I would hope. A woman came by as we sat in our chairs looking around. "Can you stay for a few minutes?", she asked. "The Crown of Thorns will be presented and brought by your seat in a procession if you can wait fifteen minutes."

It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I don't think I succeeded. "Sure," we said. "We can wait fifteen minutes to see the Crown of Thorns." It was so ridiculous; so random. So we stayed and we saw. For one hour on each Friday of Lent it's brought out in ceremony and we happened to be there. I'm still not sure why this absolutely slays me, but we penciled in a few minutes to view the thorny branches that Christ wore on his head as he was crucified. Why not. (It was not what I had pictured, by the way. Nor did our picture turn out - R didn't do a great job of gawking and clicking simultaneously. I'm almost glad it's blurry. Makes it that much more random and surreal.)

I had the best cheese fondue of my life in Paris. We stopped talking about how expensive everything was and just went with it all. We jumped the Metro turnstile at the airport because we were trapped. We saw a duck getting gang-banged on the grass under the Eiffel Tower and didn't know if we should shoo off all the suitors or just walk away pretending like we saw nothing. We overslept on our last morning and got an angry call from the front desk telling us to please vacate the room. The world's largest Louis Vuitton store beckoned me through its doors, and inside I had the revelation that I will truly never be satisfied with the number of purses I own. We took very few pictures. Our necks and backs were peeling in the French rain from the Mexican sun. I bought a scarf to fit in with the masses. R found a pastry paradise and ate a macaroon. The memory of the bacon and cheese crepe I ate around 3am in the Latin Quarter our last night still makes me queasy. We made friends from Barcelona and have an apartment-swap proposal on the table. We laughed. A lot.

I'm not glad to be back, nor am I sad. It just is what it is, and the time away was everything we wanted, needed, and much, much more.

Mr. and Mrs.

2006-03-21T23:26:00.000-05:00

goin' to the chapel....

2006-03-13T16:20:00.000-05:00

And we're off! Wish us luck this Saturday as we enter the land of the hitched!

I cannot believe that in 24 hours I'll be lying by the pool in Mexico. Do you know how long we've been waiting for this trip??

Back in a few weeks!

2006-03-12T16:32:00.000-05:00

can anyone help me with my stupid laptop? It's new, but when I'm typing it'll suddenly jump to earlier or later down the page so I'm typing in the completely wrong place. Like in the middle of a sentence I'd typed in another paragraph. It does this all the time, no matter what application I'm in....keyboard malfunction?? Any ideas? Bueller?

Marching forward....

2006-03-12T16:17:00.000-05:00

I survived my first night of being 29. All is well. Had a nice run-in with a few firefighters, and an hour or two at a bar watching Chris Noth (aka Mr. Big) ogle every woman who giggled in his direction. And my friend Kajal lightly grabbed his ass when he passed by, which was just the best birthday present ever. You have to know her to fully appreciate why this is beyond hysterical, but I almost peed my pants. Which, to be honest, would have also been funny at that point because the whole night was one big goofball lovefest.

Anyhow. We're all packed up and ready to go, and just have to dot a few i's and cross a few t's before we're 100% set. It's so surreal packing for your wedding. I can't explain it, but I feel like everything is so significant right now. Like each small thing I do is so much bigger because it's my wedding week. I'm getting married in a few days. Dumb.

Also at top of mind is the fact that I'll be in a bikini in 48 hours for all the world to see. Yet am I at the gym working out with R? Nope. Lost cause at this point, really. And I'd rather be happy and lazy today than pissy and toned.

And the ultimate "I'm a boy and am so clueless sometimes" act of the month: Procrastinate on making the CDs for our ceremony and reception until the very last minute. Then decide it's a perfect time to "clean up" the iTunes and dump every song, reformat the drives and files or whatever nonsense is involved, taking two days to do something that should have taken ten minutes total. And are they done yet? Of course not. Because the D: drive isn't big enough or something. It's not like we LEAVE in 36 hours or anything. The iTunes reformatting was tres' importante. I know.

This is why men aren't in charge of planning weddings. It's not that they don't care. They're just too easily distracted and ADD for the job.

so good to be home.

2006-03-10T10:47:00.000-05:00

NYC welcomed me home with a glorius 71 degree day today - too bad I'm slammed with work and can't fully enjoy it, but Mexico is a few short days away so I can deal.

I don't have time to pontificate much today, nor do I expect that to change before we leave...but things are good. A wee bit stressed out, but it's to be expected. Hopefully I can just enjoy my birthday tomorrow and not focus on the big things-to-do list that's growing exponentially by the minute!

have I mentioned how much I hate winter?

2006-03-02T14:46:00.000-05:00

If it's going to snow, let's have some snow. I'm not digging this whole flakes falling for an hour alternating with sleeting and just general drippiness thing that's going on today. It's just gross. At least snow is pretty. Nasty wetness outside is not. I swear to god, if Mexico wasn't just around the corner I'd be going ballistic about it being so disgusting in March. I can't deal. March means spring - warming weather and budding trees and birthdays and magical sunny days and all else that is good in the world. But not here, apparently. Nooo, Mother Nature really wants to get the full punch out of winter before unleashing the precious months of warm weather on us bitter and jaded displaced Southerners. It's fun, really.

I decided something important last night after coming home from the most grueling workout class ever and walking 2 blocks in the freezing cold (seriously, let's talk about the chances of me ever going to the gym in the winter if it was any futher away). If there is a hell, and I somehow end up as an occupant, my main punishment will be to take a freezing cold shower every day. It will not be warm in hell. It will be chilly and brisk with requisite daily cold showers.

I'm only tolerating this weather nonsense because I have an out in 12 days. Otherwise I'd be the grumpiest of the grumps right now, all the while making plans to move to Miami or San Diego. Take your pick.

Luckily I get to spend Saturday - Thursday in Minnesota. Because THAT will cure my winter blahs.

say a little prayer.

2006-02-28T13:13:00.000-05:00

Today marks the passing of a dear friend who's seen me through many a trial and tribulation: my Dell Latitude D600 laptop. It finally succumbed to the stress and trauma of banging around in plastic airport security bins, wrestingling countless hotel desk connections, being kicked around beneath the plane seat ahead of me where its loyal Talene Reilly carrying bag fought valiently against my feet for precious inches of breathing room.

It's with a bowed head and a silent "good luck" whisper that I send you, my dear laptop, off to the unimaginable horrors of UPS and their overnight shipping jungle of chaos. My only hope for you is that you find resurrection in the hallowed cubes of my IT department. That they can bring you back to life for a bit, if only to grab my precious files - my wedding planning life, contact lists, budgets, pictures, and other non-work-related items that filled your drives. The rest is recreatable. Take them to your grave with you.

Working on a desktop in your absence just isn't the same. My fingers don't know what to do with a full-size keyboard, or this flat top monitor. It's all too big. Too foreign. I miss you.

Come back safely, D600. With fresh new parts and a gleaming new Operating System, if that's what the computer gods have determined for you. I will even buy you a nice new padded laptop bag as a home, if you return to me safely. If not - if you must retire permanently - I promise to never love your replacement as much as I do you. It will never be the same. We logged so many miles together and I will always have a special place in my heart for your loyalty and dependability.

If you get chopped up into parts, let me never hear of it. I wish to think of you as I last saw you - silent and whole, your malfunctions invisible to the naked eye as you sit there powerless.

Be well. Be at peace. And bring those wedding lists back to me please.

ay de me.

2006-02-27T15:54:00.000-05:00

Today is one of those rare, magical days where I closely identify with the phrase "I feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck". The Mack truck having been the past 4 days (I just had to recount that three times on my calendar - no way in hell was that only 4 days. it felt like 10) of traveling. Thursday I was on the go from 4:30 a.m. when my alarm went off until 10:30pm when I finished up dinner with a new dealer of ours, and Friday was similar with an 8am start time at the auto show and a wine-induced slumber finally taking place at midnight after the black-tie gala ended. Saturday consisted of a 9am flight to Atlanta, and the craziness of my bachelorette party ending around 3am. Sunday I slept, ate, traveled home and was finally walking through the door to my apartment at 10:30pm.

And this, folks, is why I have a countdown to the seconds until our flight takes off to Mexico in two weeks.

old and new tips.

2006-02-27T13:55:00.000-05:00

always good to review - I find myself getting lax from traveling alone so much, which is the exact opposite of what I should be doing.

SAFETY TIPS FOR WOMEN:

It never hurts to be careful in this crazy world we live in.

1 . Tip from Tae Kwon Do: The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do!

2. Learned this from a tourist guide in New Orleans. If a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you....chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or purse than you, and he will go for the wallet/purse. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!

3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car, kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy. The driver won't see you, but everybody else will. This! has saved lives.

4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping, eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc. DON'T DO THIS!) The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side, put a gun to your head, and tell you where to go. AS SOON AS YOU GET INTO YOUR CAR, LOCK THE DOORS AND LEAVE.

5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:
A.) Be aware: look around you, look into your car, at the passenger side floor, and in the back seat.
B.) If you are parked next ! to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars

C.) Look at the car parked on the driver's side of your vehicle, and the passenger side. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out. IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.)

6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. (Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot. This is especially true at NIGHT!)

7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN! The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; And even then , it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN, Preferably in a zigzag pattern!

8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP . It may get you raped, or killed. Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked
"for help" into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next victim.

2006-02-23T14:59:00.000-05:00

If you aren't listening to The Fray yet, you don't know what you're missing. I so heart them.

With 4 hours of sleep last night, a long day so far, and a completely black and blue middle toe, I have nothing more to say today. no energy. Must have nap.

random happs of the day.

2006-02-22T17:29:00.000-05:00

Going to see the Fray tonight at the Bowery Ballroom. Can't wait. too bad I have a 6:30am flight out tomorrow...talk about poor planning.

And only I could pull this off: breaking a toe (or two) while getting a pedicure today. I can barely move my foot at all now without wincing. Can you sue a nail salon for having slippery floors? Probably not. Because most people are smart enough to not put all of their weight down before making sure the coast is clear. Not me. I like the sensation of my left foot slamming into the next spa chair, and having the nailtician (who, surprisingly, spoke perfect English) ask me if I had messed up my polish. No, no. I'm fine. Don't you worry about me. And my polish is miraculously fine too, so breathe easy, little lady.

That's what I get for splurging on a vanity session. But I'd been so good this winter and I have to wear open-toed shoes this weekend so I was DUE. It couldn't be put off any longer.

I am dreading. Cleveland.

the bridal beast.

2006-02-21T15:28:00.000-05:00

I was wondering when it would happen. It was inevitable, honestly.

Today was meltdown day. Is meltdown day. It's not over yet, but I have high hopes for the remaining 10 hours that I need to be awake. I say "need" because if tonight is like last night where I literally couldn't fall asleep due to my overactive-brain-disorder that I've recently come down with, I may be awake much longer than that.

It's three - count them, three - weeks until we leave for Mexico. Do our friends have their plans set? Flights? Even know which nights they'll be at the resort? Of course not. That would make my life too easy. See, I need the additional stress of being on the phone all morning with my travel agent who's supposed reason for existence is to make this all easier on me, the bride. But it's not feeling even remotely that way lately. No one is really helping ease the stress load here, including my fiance' who admits he's being more of a pebble than a rock for me to lean on when dealing with "bridal matters".

It will all work out. (It will all work out. It will all work out. It will all...) My bachelorette party is this weekend in Atlanta, and I just have to focus on that. And block out having to spend Thursday - Saturday morning in Cleveland for work. Commence blocking.

I stopped on the way home from my allergy shots today - delayed a day by some random ass holiday that everyone else got off from work - to buy some Easter candy. My favorite time of the year, candy wise. But alas, there were no Hershey milk chocolate easter eggs. I started to drop to my knees to dig through the bottom shelf and realized just in time that I do have limits in my desperation. Instead I settled on Mini Whopper Eggs. They will suffice. They are almost gone, actually.

So, after diving back into work for a bit, I'm planning to spend a few hours in bed with my friends Tivo and Oprah. The surest way to cure the meltdown day blues.

With this ring.

2006-02-19T11:52:00.000-05:00

I think my posting will be getting fewer and farther between as this wedding insanity draws nearer and nearer. I constantly feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin, just trying to contain the anticipation - I'm always having to check it back into place so I don't just randomly scream at people, "I'm going to MEXICO to get MARRIED in a few weeks!" Although people scream way weirder shit here all the time, so it would probably be ok.

We went wedding ring shopping - for him - in the diamond district yesterday. Holy mother of god, was it cold out. And of course, the two subway lines that would have taken us directly there weren't running so we had to walk quite a ways in the painfully bitter wind. I had my scarf wrapped over my head and was definitely feeling like a Middle Eastern fashion victim - I am not skilled in the ways of the head scarf, but at least my ears were warm.

As R tried on ring after ring in store after store, I was surprised to realize I hadn't pegged his jewelry taste correctly at all. The ones I kept pointing to - the ones I liked - he scoffed at and went for the more ornate styles. Seriously? Guess so. And then once, in a moment where time stood still, he put on a ring that was absolutely identical to my ex's ring. Now, I couldn't have told you what Said Ex's ring looked like if you'd flat out asked me a day ago. I'd completely forgotten. But when I saw it on R's finger, my heart stopped. Oh my god. What if he likes that one? Do I say something? I can't look at that everyday. What do I doooooo?

He passed on to the next one with a cursory, "Nope, don't like this either," and my heartbeat gradually returned to normal. I HATE these out of the blue aftereffects that pop out when I'm least expecting them. I can't even explain how they make me feel, other than this suffocating layer of guilt that settles around my insides. As much as I always say I would never change a thing about my past because it led me to where I am now, I find myself wishing in those moments I didn't have a past at all. That this was all new and fresh and untainted. For his sake. He deserves that, doesn't he?

March 18th cannot get here fast enough. I'm ready for new, and for us and our I Do's.

Happy Cheesy Card Day!

2006-02-14T16:05:00.000-05:00

Hope you all have a fabulous and low-cheesiness-factor Valentine's Day. We'll be high on cheese - the fondue kind. I have a cheese problem, and am the biggest fan of fondue you'll ever meet. And because he is the best future-husband in the entire world, we're going to Swizz - the fondue mecca of the city. weeee!!!!

I love ya, hon....thanks for being the bestest arts-and-crafts guru ever.

Southern Girl's Idea of Posing in Snow

2006-02-13T13:36:00.000-05:00

Southern Boy's Idea of Posing in Snow

2006-02-13T13:34:00.000-05:00

goodness!

2006-02-12T17:52:00.000-05:00

"With 26.9" of snow in Central Park, New York City has set a record for greatest snowfall from a single storm. Heavy snow this morning helped the Big Apple eclipse the previous record of 26.4" set in 1947. "

silly, silly people.

2006-02-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

I know this is at least 5 years old, and this could be written to a number of people we all know instead of "Dr." Laura, and I still love it and wish it was plastered on someone's face everytime they used the Bible as an excuse to support their predjudices. For all to enjoy, and some background as well on the history of the letter (also referencing one of my favorite West Wing scenes EVER). When will people get it and take their heads out of their collective asses?? I know, let's use the Bible just for things we WANT to agree with! yeah! let's do that! Pick and choose, ok? Persecute and despise just because we can and it's our God-given right. mmmk? k. we're cool.

"Laura Schlessinger is a US radio personality. Recently, she said that as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned in any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a US resident, which was posted on the Internet:

Dear Dr. Laura, Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the specific Laws and how to follow them.

1. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odour for the Lord (Lev. 1:9). The problem is my neighbours. They claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev. 15:19-24). The problem is, how do I tell ? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

4. Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination (Lev. 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some room for negotiation here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev.19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev.24:10-16) Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging. Your devoted disciple and adoring fan. "

My eyes hurt now.

2006-02-09T23:08:00.000-05:00

I don't know why I don't do this more often. I used to all the time. Instead of sitting in my hotel room, flipping channels or surfing the same sites over and over again, tonight I put on my bathing suit and headed to the pool downstairs. It was, in a word, awesome. And I hate the word "awesome".

Not having goggles really impedes the ability to swim agressively or even in a way that would somewhat qualify as a work-out, but I did my best. The only time I ever wish I'd had Lasik done is in a pool. I want to swim freely - no squinting or contact mess-ups or running into walls from having my eyes shut underwater. I can't remember the last time I opened my eyes underwater. How strange to even think about doing that now.

I did the best I could, swimming laps with my eyes out of the water most of the time. It's possible, you know. It felt really damn good, actually. I could do about 3 consecutive butterfly strokes before having to stop and make sure I wasn't about to ram into the wall, which surely would've been blindingly fun entertainment for the "pool guard". Who was honestly not doing a great job of pretending like he wasn't watching me, even with his cellphone glued to his ear like he had some important business to take care of other than monitoring the hot tub timer.

It's hard for me to believe I used to swim for 2 hours every single day for months at a time. I guess that's why we were all sporting rockin' bodies in high school - we were so active and athletic and just thought that's the way life was. No wonder college was such a rude awakening in so many ways. Donuts and pizza don't melt off my thighs? wha?

It was good to feel muscles in my back I'd forgotten existed. Even in the 30 minutes I was in the water, I felt young(er) again. How does that happen? Is it the stench of chlorine that will forever wisk me back to being 16 and panting for fresh air in the dead of a Minnesota winter? Could I ever have imagined then that swimming would be a luxury someday?

Extremely late New Years Resolution: swim in hotel pool, at least once a week. (I'm being practical here.)

teehee!

2006-02-08T12:01:00.000-05:00

Cat's post reminded me....our Super Bowl watching experience was quite the funny one, especially since there were about 25 people crammed in a tiny 1-bedroom, narrow apartment trying to watch the game. It wasn't ideal, but we still managed to have a good time.

R, especially, had a good time. A rum-induced good time. We had that betting grid going where you win money based on the score at the end of each quarter, and needless to say it made for a lot of cheering against the "other" team if their scoring meant you won. Remember how Seattle had that one touchdown called back for offensive pass interference in the first or second quarter? No? Well...I would have won about $100 bucks if it'd been good and valid and nice and all that. And R was jumping up and down out of his plastic chair as the play went down, and ended up SMASHING the chair to bits as he fell through it to the hardwood floor. Where he just sat, legs straight out, looking completely befuddled as to what just happend.

I was crying. laughing. Couldn't even get a grip for five minutes. We didn't even know most of these people, and had just met the poor guy who owned the chair an hour earlier. Which made it even funnier (mostly because it's soooo something I would do and was just glad it wasn't me this time.) Luckily, the chair was admittedly fragile and on its last legs so everyone just got a big kick out of it, but if I could have paid someone to videotape the scene and play it back on repeat for a few hours, I would have. Is that mean?

I did end up winning money at the end of the 3rd quarter, and all chairs were left intact.

um, what?

2006-02-08T10:43:00.000-05:00

You're telling me that hanging was the legal method of execution in the last DECADE? What??

why I hate Mondays.

2006-02-06T17:24:00.000-05:00

It's not that I'm a big baby and can't take the 3 little shots in my arms each week. I'm a big girl. I used to get these shots every week in high school, and I guarantee you I was a WAY bigger baby then than I am now.

It's not that they hurt. At least not badly. But they're not pleasant. I can tell instantly if she stuck me to the bruise point, and she comments weekly on how easily I bruise. "Yes," I want to say. "So please be more gentle and have a learning curve here."

That's not the bad part. Nor is walking to the office in the cold and having to deal with their amazingly incompetent reception desk staff. Or the fact that each week I'm made to pick up and drop off forms at a different desk, with a seeminly ever-changing process depending on someone's mood. That I can somewhat deal with, although my snarkiness factor is growing and the side comments are getting harder and harder to withhold.

No, the suckiest part of the whole weekly ordeal is the time spent waiting after the shots. Waiting to see if I'm going to stop breathing, basically. Because that's the fear. I sit in the office for 20 minutes to make sure I'm not having a reaction, and sometimes, like today, I stay longer than they make me because I'm positive my chest is feeling tight and it's a bit disconcerting. And then I question if I'm just imagining things, or if I'll walk out the front door and collapse on the corner. For the next 2-3 hours at home I don't feel quite right - can't breathe as fully as I normally do - and I'm not ever certain where the line is for getting worried. So I just push it aside mentally, as best I can, but not before shooting R an email saying, "Please call and check on me frequently today. I'm feeling really off and would hate for you to come home and discover an unconcious bride-to-be. Because then your day would suck too, I would imagine."

I hate the allergens they pump into me, the ones that I'm trying to get used to so I don't go into life-threatening asthma attacks. I hate feeling like a hypochondriac all day and being so in tune with my lungs. I don't mind the sore triceps or the tiny bruises that make me look as if I've been pinned down and beaten with fairy-sized sledgehammers. I'm almost glad to have a reason to go out on Mondays, as it'd be a perfect stay inside in my pjs all day occassion.

I just don't like worrying about breathing.

Exhaustido.

2006-02-05T14:00:00.000-05:00

Things in this pre-wedding month are pretty zoo-like. Maybe a bit more circus than zoo. I feel like we're not going to sit down and stare at each other for more than ten minutes total this month, and since that's one of our favorite things to do in life, it'll be a tough month. Yes, we are that lame. Our staredowns always erupt into fits of giggles and laughter, and a wrestling match here or there. Yes, we wrestle. Usually when we've been picking on each other all day, one of us says in the most dead serious of voices, "we need to wrestle." Fight ON. We commence to the couch or bed and just tussle around until one of us breaks out the tickle card and the match concludes. Or someone falls off the couch or bed, sometimes even breaking something on the way down, and the ensuing laughter fits end the madness in an instant. Yes, we are weird. But it's our weirdness, and it's our wacky life.

This month there'll be fewer wrestling bouts, and more arts and crafts projects, as R calls them. I'm scrambling to get stuff done for Mexico, things I'm pretty sure no one else will appreciate but they make me happy. I'm fairly certain the programs will be tossed, along with the gazillion hours I spent on them. I'm hoping at least the photographer will get a picture of one so I can pretend like they were important and noticed and appreciated. I know in those moments I won't even care about stuff like that, but I have to obsess now on these kinds of projects in order to keep myself sane. This reasoning makes perfect, logical sense to me.

We're doing taxes, praying for money to fund the nuptials. Taking trips - lots and lots of work trips for me, and one each down to Atlanta for our "last call" as single folk parties. Mine involves a Fur Bus. His involves paintball and poker. Trying to renew our apartment lease papers on time with the additional deposit they're requiring for some unknown reason, and attempting to schedule my 1st year work review sometime before we leave for Mexico. It all always happens at once. All of the madness that life has to throw at you.

This is what I recommend you NOT do - just for future reference: Move to the most expensive city in the country, but take a massive pay cut to do so. Fork over a gazillion dollars in rent each month. Get engaged. Plan a wedding and pay for it all yourself. Do all this in the span of one year and see how tough you can make it on yourself! Ready, set, GO!

And this, my friends, is why last night we stayed in, drank some wine, and played a game of Risk. And wrestled. Snapshot of our life....and crazily enough, I'm loving it.

odds & ends

2006-02-03T17:41:00.000-05:00

My least favorite sound in the world, I've decided, is the screech of a hotel ironing board opening up. It's SUCH AGONY! Why does every single one do that? hasn't anyone heard of WD-40? It's enough to make me want to spend a gazillion dollars on wrinkle-free shirts and pants.

I think I'm going blind. For real. Or else getting old really quickly. I've started to catch myself holding reading material, including my crackberry, just a few inches from my face. Like I have to have it that close to read? No...I can still read it when I bring it down. But that's apparently my new automatic comfort zone when trying to read. I suppose I should be an adult and go to the optometrist or something equally not-as-fun. I swear, my body just knows that 30 is rapidly approaching and is starting to tease me with grey hairs and farsightedness. As if I'm not traumatized enough by my sagging thighs and tiny spider-veins that mock me every time I shave my legs (which I know isn't often enough. sorry, honey.)

happy Friday, peeps. I'm sooo ready for this weekend after a hellacious work week. Not that I'm blogging about work. Because I'm not.

everyone likes boobs.

2006-02-01T23:04:00.000-05:00

I'm in Detroit-rock-city (no, I'm not staying to cheer on the Steelers), where it's a balmy 46 degrees and so, so lovely as it always is this time of year. Only in the 'burbs of Detroit will I endure a 25-minute drive-through line for Taco Bell, because the dining room has prematurely locked its doors and I have a hankering for chicken quesadilla, no sauce. Plus they take credit cards. I have simple requirements, really.

For all you blogophiles, bookmark argville.com where yours truly is the newest moderator of the What Boobs! section (i.e. idiots, not female body parts). Please feel free to submit stories you find of people being people...that is, dumb and embarrassing creatures. I'm especially interested in stories of personal humiliation and mortification. Names will be changed to protect the innocent upon request.

longest day ever.

2006-01-30T16:05:00.000-05:00

I'm really not a strong anti-Monday person, but I'm just not having a good one this week. Work is driving me crazy, trying to pay bills, going to get my allergy shots, and just generally dealing with irritating people today has got me counting down the minutes until I can crawl back into bed. At least it was really warm out today. I'll give Monday credit for that.

We're officially car-less for the first time in our entire driving-lives. It feels kind of weird. We don't have a CAR. We've been waiting for this ever since moving here since it's such a pain in the ass to have one in the city, but it's still a little off-putting when it happens. We're stuck in the boroughs! Literally!

Things are going well on the wedding front. I have a new dress and am in love with it. I'm almost done with all my little projects, except R. is being a butthead about which wedding band he wants and thinks we can wait until a week or two before we leave for Mexico to finalize his decision. sigh. I guess I just don't relate to procrastinating on a jewelry purchase, of all things. If given the chance, I'm going to buy and ask questions later. Apparently he doesn't work like that - more proof that men are alien beings.

That's about all I've got here....just looking forward to The Bachelor tonight. Seriously. I am.

"jets of fire".

2006-01-28T01:25:00.000-05:00

Is it really 20 years ago? Is that possible? Two decades ago today, the 28th, the space shuttle Challenger took off and exploded in mid-air.

It changed my life drastically, as it did to so many others I'm sure. Seeing it from my Orlando schoolyard, so close. So real. So normal - as I'd never seen another launch before and vividly remember thinking, "this is how it goes." And feeling guilty about that later. For not knowing. For me, it sparked a fascination with space travel and exploration. A once-in-a-lifetime trip to Space Camp, which I can never, ever thank my parents enough for. I didn't know then how rare that experience was. It has made me who I am, somehow. I truly believe that, as ridiculous as it may sound.

I don't know if it's the naiveness of a third-grader, but I've always felt a close bond with Christa McAullife. I've read every book possible on the subject of the Challenger, as far as I know. I was well versed in the competition that had landed her a spot on the flight even before it took place - we all were, at that age. I even met her mother years later at a Girl Scouts event. I think I was in such a state of awe that I couldn't tell her....couldn't speak, couldn't say what her daughter's death had meant to me as a child. Even though I was still just a child at that point, older in only so many ways.

I wish, somehow, I could put into words what the Challenger meant to me. Means to me. I don't think I'll ever be able to. It's just so personal, so close to me. I don't know why, and I don't know if it's all blown out of proportion and silly of me to feel special somehow - for having been touched so closely by it. So many of us were. We all were. I do know that, intellectually, as an adult now. But in some ways, I feel like it's "mine". It changed me. Deeply. To tears now, 20 years later. It just did. Maybe....just maybe, it forced me into a world of grown-up realities before I was ready. And it still hurts.

Les Savy Four (per KP)

2006-01-24T15:19:00.000-05:00

FOUR JOBS I'VE HAD:
--cashier extraordinaire at Walgreens
--waitress
--website designer for used car dealers
--advertising account exec

FOUR MOVIES I'D WATCH ON REPEAT:
--When Harry Met Sally
--The Abyss
--Breakfast at Tiffanys
--Shawshank Redemption

FOUR TV SHOWS I LOVE:
--Grey's Anatomy
--Amazing Race
--Project Runway
--Lost

FOUR CAREERS THAT APPEAL TO ME:
--travel writer
--wedding planner
--professional surfer (no, I've never surfed. details.)
--publicist

FOUR JOBS (FILLED BY PEOPLE I KNOW) AT WHICH I WOULD BE TERRIBLE:
--java programmer
--research director
--financial advisor
--dentist

FOUR VACATION LOCALES I'D LIKE TO HIT:
--Austrailia
--Egypt
--Italy
--Tokyo or Singapore

FOUR FOODS I LUST AFTER:
--cheese dip
--chicken pot pie
--chocolate fudge
--garlic bread

FOUR CHANGES I'D MAKE TO THE APARTMENT:
--this question will depress me so I'm boycotting.

FOUR BEERS I LIKE:
--Harp
--Stella Artois
--Coors Light
--Heineken

TAG, you're it:
--R.
--Gatoreena
--Ben
--You

Take it from me.

2006-01-23T13:35:00.000-05:00

They're not kidding when they say stretching before and after working out is muy importante. Oh my god. I literally couldn't walk yesterday due to Friday evening's strenuous workout. I apparently pulled groin muscles in both legs, and was almost in tears last night lying in bed. I didn't understand how bad a pulled muscle could hurt until this, and I've pulled a lot of muscles in my life. And with that, I'm finally getting back on the horse tonight and trying to workout again - at least in some capacity.

I'm off to get my allergy shots in a bit...second week out of about 5 years of these suckers to come. I have to get 3 a week, and then carry around an epi-pen the rest of the day in case I go into allergic shock or something. No me likey. I would faint if I had to actually inject myself in the leg with that sucker. I can barely look at it without feeling woozy. And of course, last week I was self-inducing a tight chest just from thinking about it.

This is what it's like to be me. Welcome to my world.

2006-01-18T22:53:00.000-05:00

I went to visit a friend's grave today, a horrible reason to go to Arlington National Cemetary for the first time. But, I know, not a unique one. I wasn't sure if - or how - I was even going to write about it. But I've felt hollow and angry all day since being there, if the two feelings can even coexist.

It took me forever to find it, partly because I decided to walk instead of driving my car into the park. I needed the walk, especially in the freezing wind. I don't know why. I just did. It rained here last night - a lot - and I was ankle deep in mud, walking the rows, looking for grave number 8000. Such an even number. I finally found it, found him. And....and the rows of new graves surrounding his. Names and birth dates, death dates, boys born days after me who died years before me. I can't...it just...I was so angry. The rows. The fresh flowers. Looking up to see a bulldozer drive down the street with its pile of displaced dirt, getting ready. And then, out of nowhere, the sound of drums. Wondering if I'm hallucinating or just overcome by the grief I didn't understand for someone I hadn't seen in years and for a war I couldn't stop. I looked up to see horses pulling a cart holding a flag-draped coffin. Rows of navy boys in dress uniform, followed by car after car. They were coming my way, towards the newest rows and the mud churned up by the too-frequent carriage visits.

It cut my visit short, as I suddenly but vividly felt like an intruder witnessing something so personal for some other family, some other friends. I couldn't stand there and wait for them to pull up to the row behind me. Behind Tyler. All I could do was walk by the procession, head down, trying not to make eye contact with the raw grief I knew I'd see in the windows of each car.

I feel empty. It's not only because of Tyler, but it's all about Tyler. About all of the Tylers. I stood there and cried over his grave, thinking he didn't get a chance to marry a girl who could stand and cry over his grave in my place. The emptiness kicked in, walking away. Empty anger.

Nano nano.

2006-01-17T19:33:00.000-05:00

It's been a looong day and it's only 7:30pm. I did one of those bounce through a few city days, and I always end up sitting on a plane, wondering how I don't remember the crack binge I must have been on when booking my travel schedule.

4 airports (1 of them twice), 1 cab ride, 2 rental cars later and I'm in my hotel room. comfy in my flannel pj pants (well, R's flannel pj pants if you want to get technical) and all is good with the world. You know why? That's right. American Idol is coming on soon, baby. Say what you will about the show - even the Idol haters love these first few audition eps.

I had horrible room service dinner. It will call for room service dessert in a bit to make up for it. I may actually have time tomorrow to do some D.C. sightseeing. Maybe. This city drives me bonkers - I'm not sure how people live here, to be honest. I can't even put my finger on why I don't like it all that much. I just feel dirty here. Maybe it's the sight of homeless people (stick with me here) walking and panhandling 1/2 mile from the U.S. Capitol, basically in its shadow. Maybe that sight makes me sick. It just all feels wrong. Or maybe I just subconciously feel dirty being in such close proximity to Bush. That's very likely as well.

p.s. first trip using my Nano and it rocks! thanks, hon!

2006-01-12T18:06:00.000-05:00

I have a new crush, courtesy of some celebrity stalking today. I hopped off the subway at Union Square to say hi to R. since I was on my way home from lunch in Little Italy, and walking out of the station I spotted cameras and booms and filming crew galore. Investigation was necessary - you can always tell a TV shoot from a movie shoot because with TV you can walk right up to it all and accidentally be in the shot if you're not careful. That's why they're fun.

So after a few minutes of walking slowly around and trying to spot the actors, I heard a voice behind me say, "dude, you just made that guy's day!". I turned to see who he was talking to and I saw Tom Cavanaugh five feet away from me. Ed, if you will. Um, hi hottie. I had no idea he was that cute in person. He'd never really done much for me...until that moment.

Yeah, so I have a new crush. R. came down and met me, and we stood and watched things for awhile from a few feet away. It's always interesting to see how shoots work and how casual it all is. So tune into "Love Monkey" in two weeks (next week is the pilot) and watch for the newstand scene where Tom has his blue baseball cap on backwards. I saw the make-up guy, I can only assume, straightening out Tom's sideburns for each shoot and realized I need to expand my horizons in terms of coolest jobs EVER. I want to be Tom's sideburn arranger. I could so do that.

Tom? Call me. k?

2006-01-11T13:35:00.000-05:00

I'm really tired of everyone feeling like they have to answer their cellphone every time it rings. It's out of control. We should NOT be available to people 24/7. I'm sorry, but it's just not healthy. Because then you get those numnuts who get all worked up and personally offended if they get your voicemail - like you're purposefully not answering your phone. You know, maybe I'm NOT answering your call on purpose. Maybe I'm possibly doing something else in my life. Maybe you shouldn't expect me to drop every single thing I'm doing at the precise instant you decide to call me and scramble for my phone. Maybe if I don't answer, it's ok. I can always call you back if you need to speak to me. Leave a message. If you call and don't leave a message, I will assume it wasn't important. And please, don't keep calling me multiple times until I answer. That's just rude. Again, leave a message - I will get back to you when I have the opportunity. Voicemail is a beautiful thing. Use it.

Is this such a wrong mentality for us all to adopt? Cellphones long ago became the devil of our society. They definitely have their advantages, don't get me wrong, and I wouldn't give mine up for less than the equivalent of my wedding budget in compensation, but let's all ease up on the expectations.

If you call me - or anyone else - and we don't answer, don't take it personally. And for the record, "clearing" someone is in fact ok. It's not personal. Or maybe it is. Deal with it. We do have lives that revolve around things other than the phone calls we receive.

Then again, maybe I'm just not a phone person.

too much for a Monday?

2006-01-09T15:03:00.000-05:00

I'm not calling myself an atheist. I don't fit in that category. I just like this quote because it's true, and it makes sense to me. And I enjoy things that make sense. It fits right into my whole issue with those who believe non-believers are going to hell...hell's sure going to be a pretty crowded place with people from all other religions, no? Who knows what to believe in anymore. I just choose to put faith in that which I see for myself.

""We are all atheists about most of the gods that humanity has ever believed in. Some of us just go one god further." - Richard Dawkins

oh lists. you can never do me wrong.

2006-01-08T20:04:00.000-05:00

This one's for my foodie fiance'. To use when we're no longer wedding-poor. when you no longer have to crack open that 4-year-old bottle of Irish Soda Bread, because it's "time" - i.e. we need to eat food in a bottle. Here's to April.

p.s. We literally live above #15. But we can't afford to eat there. Viva New York.

ramble on.

2006-01-06T16:42:00.000-05:00

My least favorite part of English classes was writing the outlines "necessary" for our papers. I despise outlines. Who plans that far ahead? You just start writing and go with the flow. I loved writing papers (tell me again why I went to an engineering school?) but the proper process according to the professionals always baffled me. So. In homage to those who tried their best to break me down with their roman numerals and indentations, I'll outline the current mullings of the week:

I.

Crap. I can't do it. Even typing that one letter gave me the shakes. I did try, though, for the record. I sat and thought about my structure but nothing came to me. Bonus points for effort, no? And for randomness. I know. It was on my mind. I drove a lot today, alone with my thoughts. So sue me.

I believe that R. and I are happy now after tumultuous times for a variety of reasons. But the sole #1 favorite reason of mine is because we both like/enjoy/are challenged by our current jobs. This is huge. For me - lest I speak for both of us - it entails not heaping the enormous resopnsiblity of making me feel fulfilled and needed onto his plate. I have another outlet, another source for recognition and a purpose. I don't need him as much, in the sense that before I was so miserable in my everyday life I expected him to make up for it and be everything to me. And who the f can or wants to do that, for someone else no matter how much you love him/her? This may make sense to no one else in the entire world, but it gives me a little happy flutter inside knowing that we have more than just each other making our lives full right now. And if that's not the lamest thing you've ever heard...

Feast your thoughts on this: I think I am a mutant. I have a missing body piece right now. I don't want to completely gross you out - continue on when you're done eating - but my pinky toenail finally succumbed to years of hanging on for no good reason and just sort of flicked off in my hand the other day. It really wasn't doing much before it's departure anyway. R. called it my nubbin toe. I could barely even paint it due to the miniscule surface area. It was more like dabbing in the place I thought a nail might be. But now it is gone. The question of the month is if it'll grow back. Maybe a stronger, bigger version will appear. THAT would be exciting. And I know you totally needed this piece of information in order to begin your weekend off on the right foot (har). I do what I can.

Finishing thought of the day (III.) pertains to a recently identified hotel pet peeve: If you're going to give me the so-called "benefit" of being on the Club level floor, can there at least be some perceived added value? The only thing I can determine from most of these Club level floors is that it has blocked access - meaning you have to stick your room key in the elevator to get there. What a f'ing pain in my rear. I have to find my key in the elevator and get it to read properly and light the little tiny green light before it'll move, which always takes multiple tries. And if anyone else is in the elevator with you, they stare like you're either doing something magical or are part of a covert operation. If only they knew. Sometimes, yes, there's a free happy hour and breakfast for guests on the Special Level. That's nice. But otherwise, it's really just irritating. And I'm going to tell my travel agent that. No free booze? Free breakfast either? Make me a regular guest, thank you very much.

The End.

and on the flip side...

2006-01-03T17:36:00.000-05:00

We had a couples shower while in Atlanta last week, since the majority of our friends live there and a lot of them won't make the blessed nuptials south of the border in a few months. It was really just a party with a few gifts thrown in - couples showers are SO much more fun than girls-only showers. I've been to a gazillion and two girls-only showers and they're all carbon copies of another and too chill for my taste. Except for one I threw for a friend, which was more like a cocktail party and we all dressed to the nines for it. That was fun. But maybe I'm biased since I hosted it.

So. We were unpacking the car on Monday and bringing the gifts upstairs - all five flights of them - when I realized I couldn't find the list of who had given us what. You know how it goes. Someone sits there while you open gifts and writes down gifter and gift so you can dutifully write your thank you notes at a hopefully-not-too-later point in time. This critical list was MIA. I called my sister to ask where she'd stashed it that night, and was told she handed it to R. who in turn put it in his coat pocket. Cue nominee for most frustrating conversation of all time:

A: "Can you check your coat pocket for the list? Ali said she saw you put it in there."
He checks.
R: "It's not there."
Pause.
A: "and?"
R: "and what?"
A: "and where would it be then?"
R: "I don't remember her giving it to me."
A: "So you think she made that up?"
R: "No, I, uh, it's just not there. I don't HAVE it."
A: "Well, can you LOOK AROUND A BIT FOR IT please?"
R: "I'm telling you I don't have it. We don't need a stupid list anyways."
A: "Oh really. Don't need a list, huh? Not even going to look for it?"
R: "Whatever. I can remember who gave us everything."
A - "Uh-huh. Ok. So who gave us this?" Now shoving a griddle pan in his face.
R: "John."
A: "No. He gave us steak knives."
R: "Matt and Heather."
A: "Matt and Heather? You mean Matt and Carrie??"
R: "yeah."
A: "no. they gave us something else."
R: "are you just testing me and you really know who gave us that?"
A: "No, fool. I have no idea who gave us this! That's why it's written down!" Now waving griddle around in the air at dangerous speeds.
R: "Maybe I put the list in my pants pocket."
A: "Why don't you check. That'd be GREAT."
shuffle shuffle.
R: "here it is."
A: silence. biting tongue. so. hard. not. to. be. snarky....
"Thank you for looking."

sigh.

Happy Happy.

2006-01-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

It was the bestest of the best New Year's Eves ever. I kissed a boy at midnight, albeit one who had just done an Irish car-bomb 10 seconds earlier before he turned to his next priority: me. The kiss rang in the year of our marriage, and I literally don't think I could have been happier than I was in that moment. The night was a blast from start to finish - surrounded by friends, live Irish music, champagne and an abundance of paper tiara headbands for men and women alike.

Three years ago, just a few minutes past midnight, I kissed the same boy at his New Year's bash. No matter that my date to the party was a different boy. Oops. It was the start of our relationship, after a few months of us both doing the "I like you but I'm not admitting it" dance. After the kiss, he gave me a CD he'd made for me. The modern equivalent of making a girl a mixed tape. I knew I had him hooked. Later that day, my cellphone rang. It was him, casually asking if I wanted to go to dinner. A real date. On New Year's Day. I said yes, and listened to my CD mix as I drove into town to meet up, excited and nervous and hungover.

If we had known how hard the next three years would be, I have little doubt we'd have both stood the other up for dinner that night. All the times we'd have to ask ourselves if this was really worth it - the drama, the outside influences and opinions, the unfounded judgements and forces against us. I'm just glad life works that way. That we can't see ahead, and just plunge blindly forward. Because now I wouldn't trade these past three years for anything. It's our history....what's made us stronger than I ever thought possible in a relationship of any kind. I am capable of beating the odds, together with someone. I know there's a long road ahead, but it's a road full of New Year's Eve kisses. And I'll take whatever else comes with it, happily.

2005-12-23T12:10:00.000-05:00

10 night trip + driving instead of flying = extreme overpacking. I think we're taking half of our material belongings down to Georgia with us. Should be a lovely drive down. ugh.

Hope you all have a very Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, Happy Kwanza, or whatever you may be celebrating this week. Even if you just get tanked and have a Happy New Year, that will do.

See y'all in '06!

Oh, Lists. You can never do me wrong.

2005-12-22T11:32:00.000-05:00

I love this list. And mostly because #19 made me cackle out loud because just two weeks ago my sister turned to me on the street and said the same thing. It's so random that you know it has to be true.

Other favorites: 71, 80, 31, and 40. among others.

The strike may end today! Halle-frickin'-lujah!

ok.

2005-12-21T11:22:00.000-05:00

I'm about done with the strike. It's nice having R. home with me and all, but walking home last night from dinner sucked big butt. Normally 20 blocks would be no big deal, but my face about fell off from the wind. I couldn't feel my legs. I have no tolerance for that nonsense. And to make it worse, all these empty cabs were driving by but we couldn't take one because of the flat fare thing in place which would have been at least $10 a PERSON, just to get home (there were 4 of us walking together, so that's a lot of money.) Ridonkulous. I was game for spending the dough, but knew better than to suggest it to Frugal McFrugal Only When it Comes to Cabs walking next to me. My face still hurts this morning. It does.

I'm grouchy because I'm sick, really. The cold air didn't help matters, I'm sure. But by the end of last night, I literally couldn't talk. I was croaking out one word responses at dinner until I finally accepted my fate and shut up for the evening. I'm sure everyone was grateful.

Did I tell you I don't like my wedding dress anymore? Now that it's finally here? Yeah. That's my life. I think, though, that it's just because I'm so pasty white and look horrid in anything that's just as white as I am. I'm going to self-tan and try again. I'm not giving up yet. Yet.

And with that, I'm headed back to bed.

this gives you an idea

2005-12-20T14:52:00.000-05:00

of how many people are affected and desperate. and this is just the Craig's List-savvy people, so multiple this by a few million.

not quite a standstill...

2005-12-20T12:56:00.000-05:00

...but it's definitely weird here today. R. is working from home, given the choice between that and a 3-mile walk to his office. It's really, really cold out with the lovely biting wind so I would have made the same decision. Plus it's nice to have company here (especially lunch-making company. I love these people.)

I had a 10:45am appointment with my new allergist, and called to make sure he was there before walking to the office. Once I stepped outside I paused on the corner to figure out what the hell was wrong with the scene in front of me. Sure, there were barely any cars on the streets - the carpool requirements for driving into Manhattan were still in effect - but I finally realized it was the complete lack of delivery trucks that was weirding me out. The curbs were all empty. No cars or trucks parked at all. Normally they're at least double-parked deep on every avenue. Weird.

Then, as I was crossing 3rd, I saw two cabs stop - with people already in them - and let other people in. I was watching the folks in the backseat scoot over for the strangers who were joining them, just in complete awe. This just does not happen here. You pretend like no one else exists, for the most part. No eye contact, let alone a shared cab ride. It's kind of cool to see, actually. Everyone's banding together in their shared misery. Of course, I get to the Dr.'s office to find two nurses running the desk, with no clue as to what they're doing since they were filling in for the receptionists who were en route from Queens. Mass chaos. I should have rescheduled, but we were all laughing together as they tried to answer the incessantly ringing phones and answering the same questions over and over again. I was, after all, the only patient who had made it in by 11am.

I probably have a different take on this strike since I don't *have* to ride the subway everyday. Another perk of working from home. But thank GOD I finished my Christmas shopping in Nebraska this past weekend, because if I had to cart my happy ass to Macy's this week - on foot or in a shared cab - my sunny take on the situation would surely vanish into thin air.

For now, we'll just be walking a lot. I feel bad for the tourists, which is a first. We have friends in town who we're meeting for dinner tonight, and it'll be a long walk for all parties involved. But what can you do? I really wonder how long this can go on. The stories today are unbelievable...People walking miles and miles to work, many because they have to be there or they don't get paid. Not everyone has the choices we do, and it makes me feel lucky. But in what other city would walking even be a possibility? Can you imagine people in Atlanta schlepping even a mile to get to their office? I scoff.

2005-12-19T09:47:00.000-05:00

I'm glad I'm flying home today and not tomorrow. I'd never make it back to my apartment! This should be interesting....

2005-12-18T15:11:00.000-05:00

btw. This is so completely random, but if you ever have the chance to have Shark Fin soup - please do NOT order it or eat it. I happened to see a snippet on Dateline or 20/20 or something like that last weekend and was almost in tears seeing how they "fin" the sharks (aka slice off all their fins) while they're still alive and then dump them overboard, leaving them to sink to the bottom of the ocean and drown. It was the most brutal process...

Apparently it's an expensive delicacy in Asian countries, but you can find it in some places here in the States. Just as a personal favor to me, please pass on the shark fin soup. If you'd seen this piece, you'd understand.

gracias.

I only paid $6 for a movie!

2005-12-18T12:52:00.000-05:00

Get thee to the theater and see The Family Stone asap. It was one of the best movies I've seen in a looong time, although I have to warn you that I was full-on doing the quiet sobbing thing the last ten minutes. I couldn't get a grip even as I was walking out the door to my car. I'm sure I was more emotional due to the past few days of seeing my mom in so much pain from her shoulder surgery. Or that I was at the hospital with her on Thursday and never get used to the sight of her doped up in a gurney, no matter how many times I've seen it.

Regardless, the whole movie is great. And if you know me, I don't rave about movies like this. I do adore Sarah Jessica Parker, which helped, but I was worried I'd see Carrie Bradshaw in her the whole time. And that wasn't the case at ALL. She was that good. And I totally have a girl crush on Rachel McAdams.

anyhoo. I'm off to Ann Arbor today for a meeting tomorrow morning and then I get to head home! It's been a nice visit here and I'm glad I came out, but I always get antsy after a few days for my own bed and my shower and to live out of a dresser and not my suitcase. Next spring/summer I'll be dragging R. out here so we can roadtrip up to the Badlands and Mt. Rushmore. Because I said so.

2005-12-16T22:13:00.000-05:00

I'm the last person on earth to read Memories of a Geisha, even though I've been wanting to for years. I'm so glad I waited, though, because I don't think I could have finished the book and then have to wait longer than a few weeks to see the movie. I haven't been this excited to see one on the big screen in a long time. Next up to read: Prep. I'm sure it will be a completely different kind of entertainment. No movie though.

It's a Friday night in Nebraska, and I'm watching The American President for the gazillionth time. Dinner and a movie. TBS. That's funny.

I miss R. I'm (relatievly) fine being away from him for this long when I'm traveling for work, I think because I'm too busy to feel lonely most of the time. But sitting around this much makes me miss my best friend terribly.

The good news of the day is that my wedding dress arrived today. It's sitting in New York and I'm in Nebraska. If this isn't karmic payback for my certifiable levels of impatience in life...

2005-12-15T18:10:00.000-05:00

Things I've seen during my first 24 hours in Nebraska, in no particular order:
- a herd of cows
- wide open fields as far as the eye can see
- three episodes each of PTI and Around the Horn
- the inside of my mother's shoulder, thoughtfully captured and explained in great detail to me after her surgery this morning. no one should see ligaments before lunch.
- snow flurries
- red Nebraksa snow jackets galore
- bad jeans and christmas sweaters galore
- 6:30 a.m.
- my blackberry on a tray next to a (clean) bedpan. there has to be some poetry in that somewhere.
- a small wooden cat being ridden horseback style by a small wooden santa.
- more chain restaurants and stores than I've ever seen in one consolidated area

the nurse tending to my mother today in the recovery room asked what I thought of Nebraska so far, and I literally stuttered and fumbled over my response until I just started giggling. It was AWFUL. Luckily she was super perky and just smiled her pretty way through the awkwardness.

Don't get me wrong. Lovely place. Just probably not at its best in the dead of December.

2005-12-14T17:57:00.000-05:00

I'm in Nebraska.

And that about sums up my day.

The End.

smelling salts.

2005-12-13T11:30:00.000-05:00

I'm on wedding overload today. I'm seriously about to pass out from all the excitement. I can't handle this much at once.

I ordered my wedding dress on August 1st - I was told it'd take 3 months, although this was pre-Katrina and the store is in Metaire, LA. It shipped out to me yesterday, after many, many calls to the store. I almost fainted when I was actually given a tracking number and can now watch it's slow progress here...and of course I'm out of town when it arrives. But it's on the way! If it's the wrong one (again), I will seriously curl up into the fetal position and die.

Then....according to another tracking number, my wedding band should arrive today! Can't even deal. I hope I heart it.

And THEN! Our wedding photographer shot a wedding at our resort in Mexico this past weekend and sent out their pictures for me to see this morning. I almost fainted. The resort looks great - fully recovered from the storms and as beautiful as ever.

bliss, bliss. I think the wedding dress thing has been stressing me out more than I realized. It's kind of a major necessity, you know? And I haven't laid eyes on it since JULY. I keep wanting to go back to the store and try it on to remember how pretty I feel in it, but they'll think I'm psycho and whisper about me behind my back. I know they do that to all us insane-o brides. I would.

I don't know how people do it.

2005-12-12T16:48:00.000-05:00

I'm still recovering from Saturday. My 3 girlfriends from Atlanta got in late Friday night, which was fairly low-key, but Saturday...oooh, Saturday. Let's just say we saw the other side 5am for the first time in quite some time. I literally crawled from the bedroom to the couch yesterday aroun1 pm and stayed there until we went to bed at 11:30pm. Still in my pj's from the night before. If you can call it night when you go to bed right before daylight. The girls went straight to the airport to catch a 6am flight out. I did not envy them. But if they'd even "napped" for an hour, there would have been ugliness.

I had such a great time. The shopping, the lunching, the gossiping and wine-imbibing. (oook. I can't even type that word without my stomach turning.) I was sad to see them go. although my wallet was not. or my liver. I was walking down the sidewalk today when I saw a pigeon a few feet ahead of me poop in my path. I almost vomited. Things are just not right in the system yet. Good times.

I head to Nebraska on Wednesday. My parents live in Nebraska. It's a recent development, sure, but I've always wondered who could really live in the dead center of the country and not go insane. I'm quite sure I'm not on that list. We'll see how it goes. At the very least I'm excited to mark it off the map for visited states. And it's not corn or football season so I shouldn't be too frightened of midwesterness rubbing off on me again. I should be safe.

I need to go lie down. ugh.

whiteness.

2005-12-09T11:32:00.000-05:00

It snowed last night. A lot. I woke up earlier than normal, probably because I hadn't heard R.'s alarm go off while still in my deep morning sleep and wondered what time it was. He had set his clock wrong, and somehow I knew it was time to not really hear him get out of bed but know he was gone. As I rolled over, I saw these huge white flakes falling outside our window - we'd somehow left the curtain open enough to be able to see outside. We never do that. I'm too paranoid about peeping toms across the alley, watching us as we sleep. People do that, you know. So I've heard.

The snow stopped pretty soon after I'd woken up. I would have missed it all together if I had slept until my usual double digits. As much as it pains me to admit, it's really pretty outside - and the snow falling made me feel really safe and warm at home, in bed. Maybe winter isn't such a bad thing after all. Snow feels normal here. In Atlanta it was cause for panic. Shopping for bread and bottled water as if the nuclear holocaust was upon us. Here it's just life. Everything - almost - goes on as normal. You can appreciate the peacefulness of it.

It's a good snow day. I have a list of chores to do in the next few hours - the transition between our last house guest and the three who arrive this evening for a weekend of winteryness. All three are southern girls, born and bred, who will surely think I've lost my mind for living this way. I would have too. Cold and I still don't mix well together. But I'm starting to feel more in place with the season. R. and I said last night, out loud for the first time, that we could stay here a few more years than either of us had originally planned or wanted. It's possible, maybe, to make this home, and not just a passing experience or a checkmark on a list.

Days like today are days I never anticipated, nor understood. I'm snowed in, at home. And it feels pretty good.

dur-da-dur-dur.

2005-12-08T11:08:00.000-05:00

We - my sister, R. and I - went to see Avenue Q on Broadway two nights ago. I'd heard it was incredible but didn't really know much else about the show. It was awesome. Hysterical. Puppetry at it's best. And not a show to take your kids to, just FYI. I don't know that anything will ever surpass Chicago and Rent for me in terms of favorites, but I could see this one over and over again for sure. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.

This whole week has been like that. I always forget how much I laugh around my sister. I mean, R. makes me laugh a LOT - we crack each other up with just a look. But it's different with her. It's laughing over nothing, usually. At least nothing that anyone else would understand. I often realize we're hysterical with tears running down our faces and no one around has any idea what just happened. Just a noise will set us off. An errant cough in a quiet church has been known to literally send us into dry heaves. I've wiped tears from my eyes more times this week than I have in ages, and I feel lighter because of it.

R. thinks we're insane, I'm sure. Or maybe he just feels a bit left out. I think having her here has reemphasized for me how much I miss my girlfriends back home. I'm quite positive R. feels the same about his boys. As much as we love being with each other, we're evolving into bickering roommates from lack of outside interaction and time alone with our friends...and it's time to fix that. It just all sort of fell into perspective for me this week, having her here. And I needed that.

So Ali, feel free to visit anytime. Just let me know so I don't put mascara on.

you know it's cold....

2005-12-07T16:37:00.000-05:00

...when cabbies are complaining about it. Normally they're a silent bunch, unless you get unlucky and land the chatterbox guy who reeks of smoke and cologne. Yes, those things always go together. It's true.

There's cold and there's Minnesota cold. I know better than to say this is the coldest I've ever been. As hard as I've tried to block out Minnesota winters, parts of my flesh and bones still hate me for doing that to them. As if I had the choice. I moved away as soon as I could, promise! I'm just not a cold-weather person. Blame it on being Georgia-born. A Peach State girl, if you will. Peaches need warm weather to grow. Don't they? I don't even like peaches. But throw in a few years in Florida to make things worse. We discount the period in Rochester, NY because I remember little of it other than breaking my arm and tunneling through snow. And a school bus yard. Why do I remember a school bus yard?

Still, it's damn frigid out right now. Snow I can handle. I don't mind the snow. People always equate the two - at least Southerners do. "How will you deal with all the snoooow?" Snow's fine. When it's too cold to snow - and yes, there's such a hellish state - we have problems.

The wind is literally like a knife. People aren't just saying that as a cute way to describe how it feels. You really feel like someone is slicing your skin open and pouring liquid hell into the cracks. I do not like this cold. I do not like that our radiators are all in the off position because I live with a penguin. I hate when my skin is dry like this. My nose is red from running every time I set foot outside.

Yes, it could be colder. I could be back in the frozen tundraland of 'Sota, bundled up in my argyle and cords. And yes, I do know that I chose - willingly and eagerly - to move way up north and am putting myself through this voluntarily.

It doesn't mean I have to be happy about this time of year. Bah humbug. Bah bah. Humbug.

I didn't fall this weekend.

2005-12-05T16:34:00.000-05:00

It was a good weekend. No falling down in streets or tripping on curbs. We went to this gathering at a bar in Union Square on Friday night, one that my friends put on every year even though it keeps getting bigger and louder and lasts longer each time. Last year I fell down. Granted, I was in an overall bad place this time last year and not very emotionally stable, so it didn't take much to get me to a state where standing upright was optional. That and boys kept buying me beers. I'd been here a week. It was fun. Until I fell.

Let's just say I'm in a more sane place now. No falling, fewer beers. Probably related, I know. I did start tearing up at one point remembering how miserable I was last December, and telling R. how happy I am. "I'm just so haaaapppy now. sniff sniff. You make me so haaaappy. Do you know that?" Ok, so maybe I'd still had a few beers by that point. Minor detail.

My sister arrived in town yesterday and is staying with us for most of the week. I have COMPANY during the day! I've had actual in-person conversations with someone during the hours of 9 (well, 10:30am. I was sleepy.) - 6pm. It's a miracle. I love it. I may tie her up and not let her leave. And she made me LUNCH. what? ding ding ding! Guest of the year! Yes, she can stay. For now. Ask me again in a few days.

letting myself go.

2005-12-02T11:54:00.000-05:00

After a week straight of working at home and no trips or even meetings to attend, I've hit a crucial point of "if I don't have social interaction with human beings other than the one who has sworn to love me no matter how ratty I look, I might wither up and die".

A few nights ago I decided to change my toenail polish. So I removed the old polish. Decided to let my toenails "air out" overnight since they never get to breathe fresh air. that sounds gross. sorry. The next night I started repainting them with my festive, metallic wineberry color. I did two toes on my right foot and decided I didn't like it. I couldn't remove it while the polish was still wet and start over with another color. It would have been messy. So I let them dry.

Three or possibly four days later, I still have two painted toes. And I just don't care.

I'm pulling a K-Fed and wearing socks with my adidas soccer flip-flops around the apartment because my feet are cold and I don't have slippers. I need slippers.

I'm wearing a jumbled outfit of fleece pants, t-shirt, and zip-up sweater because I'm cold. I look like a hobo.

I wouldn't even answer the door if someone were to buzz today. I am work-from-home-but-look-homeless lady and would frighten whoever were to innocently come a knockin.

And I just don't care. That much.

It's time to get out in the world tonight and be social. We're doing that. I'm just wondering if I should paint the rest of my toes for the occasion. I haven't been outside since Wednesday. Is that bad?

We've been told this week - we, being the other agency people who work at home like me - that starting Jan. 1, we're expected to travel Tuesday - Friday every week. Every f'ing week. At first I was pissed. Then I looked down at my outfit and realized this is probably a good thing. Both for me and the human race.

2005-11-30T19:28:00.000-05:00

I will boycott movies for the rest of my life if this ever comes to fruition. I will.

However, I will secretly be a teensy-tiny bit thrilled if this happens.

and my most favorite story/video clip of the week so far. Fools. Both of them.

I think I'm losing my mind.

2005-11-29T12:01:00.000-05:00

There's music outside and I can't place the song. It's some 70's sitcom theme or game show tune, a la The Newlywed Show or something similar - trumpets, annoyingly perky, being piped in from what sounds like the heavens. I can't figure out where it's coming from or who would subject us all to such torture. Tubas have kicked in. It's like big band music gone wrong. Maybe a tinge of cabaret. Bad cabaret.

I guess I could shut my windows. But then it'd get hot and stuffy in here and it'd be a different kind of insanity.

It feels distinctly like I'm in some sort of psychological test to see how long I can stand the music. Wait for it....I think it's stopped.

Nope. No such luck.

I had a similar psychosis-inducing episode last Thursday morning, driving to Thanksgiving dinner at my grandparents house in Massachusetts. It was early. Really early, actually, and we both wanted breakfast sandwiches from McDonald's so we did a drive-through in some small-ish Connecticut town.

I ordered an egg, cheese and bacon bagel sandwich. No egg. I order this all the time - it's standard airport breakfast fare for me. We get our food, drive away from the pick-up window, and I realize they've put some sort of horrid looking yellow sauce ALL over my sandwich. R. pulls over and I run inside to get a new sandwich. Insanity ensued.

"There's sauce on here for some reason. I just wanted bacon and cheese on a bagel please."

"Here you go," in stilted english. I was soon to discover that we were in a completely spanish-speaking McDonald's.

"No, now this one has egg on it. I just want bacon and cheese."

"No egg?"

"No egg."

I stood there and watched as she turned around and yelled to the food prep woman, "Egg, cheese and bacon bagel por favor!"

"I SAID NO EGG!"

"No egg?"

The food prep woman looks at me too. "No huevos?"

"NO HUEVOS! NO HUEVOS!"

I'm yelling and waving my arms at this point when a man standing next to me says with a taunting smile, "Nice Spanish, amiga." Then he turns and orders his comida en espanol and I want to slap him.

"Here you go. No egg."

I walk away in a huff, open the sandwich. There's no egg. But there's yellow sauce. EVERYWHERE.

I about lost my shit. I thought for sure I was on candid camera. I slammed the sandwich into the trash can and stormed out - it was too early for my patience filter to have kicked in.

When I get back in the car, R. takes one look at my empty hands and has to hold back a snicker. "Do I even want to know?"

I go on a tirade about the ineptitude of McDonald's employees and how all I wanted was a g.d. bagel sandwich with NO HUEVOS and that I didn't blame him for basing his entire view of the French population on how he was treated at the Charles de Gaulle airport McDonalds anymore.

Of course, he walked inside and three minutes later emerges with a bagel sandwich. No egg. A little sauce, still, but such a small amount I could wipe it off. It was mustard-ish. I hate mustard.

and now I hate McDonalds.

The music is still going strong outside. Maybe it's time for a little breakey-poo for me.

p.s.

2005-11-28T17:07:00.000-05:00

It has been pointed out to me that I sound like I'm puking over the thought of getting married soon. Couldn't be further from the truth. I'm feeling ill over having so little time to pull everything together - my damn dress still isn't here, for crying out loud. I need a Slow Button for life right now. Just sloooow down. pretty please.

and I actually think I'm feeling sick from eating something bad because I really do think I'm going to hurl and have been like this all day. TMI, sorry.

out there.

2005-11-28T14:03:00.000-05:00

I mailed my wedding invitations today.

I feel like throwing up.

Two visits to the post office this morning, and they're all out there. The first time, early this morning, I stood patiently in line waiting to have one invite weighed so they could tell me the postage I needed. There was almost a mass revolt in the line, as there were only 1-2 people working the counter and at least 50 people in line. Women started yelling, someone got the manager, and five minutes after I'd been thinking how nice it'd be to stamp and label packages as a job all day, I was thankful to be leaving after doing my business.

My second trip a few hours later was short and sweet. Sort of. I had a box full of the finished stamped and sealed invitations, all ready to go. Ready to be carried around the country and even to England and Italy. I dropped them through the letter slot, thinking this was all very anticlimatic considering how much time and energy had gone into their creation. An older woman standing behind me tapped me on the shoulder.

"Are those your Christmas cards?"

"No. They're my wedding inviations."

"Oh thank God. Because I would have felt like crap all day if you were that on the ball."

And that was it. They were out there. All I had left was an empty box. And a nauseous feeling that still hasn't gone away.

It's all very real now. My wedding invitations are in the mail.

Turkey.

2005-11-23T12:26:00.000-05:00

I will always miss my cat on Thanksgiving. I can't hear the word "turkey" without thinking of him, since it was his favorite word and one that would rouse him from the deepest of sleeps and send him running to the kitchen. Our family would joke that we should just start calling him Turkey and give him some respite from his ill-gendered moniker of Cleo. But that would have been cruel. Everything was "turkey" - any treat or human-food that he wanted and whined for. It wasn't a Thanksgiving-only day word, that's for sure. But it was certainly his favorite of all holidays.

What a weird thing to miss on a holiday of thanks. My cat. I still get teary-eyed over the bugger being gone if I think about it too much. And then I feel like a big loser. He was just a cat. sniff.

Anyhoo, we're off to Massachusetts tomorrow to do the family thing and I talked R. into shaving his winter beard for the occassion. I have a love/hate relationship with his beard whenever he gets lazy enough to grow one. But the grandparents don't need to be exposed to the mountain man look.

Tonight we'll be partaking in the balloon-inflation festivities for the Macy's parade tomorrow. I've heard it's cooler than going to the actual parade, so we'll see. It wins points for being at night and not at the crack of dawn, that much is for sure.

I am blah today. But happy Turkey day to everyone....be nice to your kitties.

Just like Sinatra sings it....

2005-11-21T17:31:00.000-05:00

This week marks a year since I left Atlanta and arrived in New York. It's been, in retrospect, the longest and shortest year of my life, simultaneously. A roller-coaster of a ride, yes. A year with a new apartment, a new job, a ring on my finger and a wedding date set, a friend killed in a ridiculous war - which doesn't belong on a list of any sort but the lack of inclusion would make it even more wrong than it is - new friends, growing apart from some old ones, frequent flier miles galore and somehow through it all feeling closer to my family than I have in a long time.

I have a hard time believing how much my world has changed just from living here. In the obvious ways, of course. But the things I have now that I didn't before - in my mannerisms, lingo, frame of reference, personality - have been incrementally shaped and it's those things that surprise me most. I expected to become jaded. To be broke. To be as enthralled and in love with this city as I've always been. I have that all. I feel it on a frequent basis. It's the other stuff I'm still coming to terms with.

I have a favorite taxi ride (up Madison at night), a garbage-man super, decent hamstrings from the stairs I climb each day, a reliable Italian place in our neighborhood and a favorite diner. A New York Public Library card, a gym membership, book club and non-profit I'd like to continue doing things for. A fiance' who knows the subway system like the back of his hand, and the impatience I never thought would be matched by the attitude of any city but has finally found its home and rightful place. It's the system of having fashionable walking shoes and fashionable going-out shoes and finally knowing the two things cannot be one and the same. I know that feeling drips of water while walking down the sidewalk isn't cause for alarm - no one's spitting on me, unless you count air-conditioners as someone. I deeply adore things like the lost items ad on the 6 train, showcasing the examples of things you may claim at the lost items center - the cash, eyeglasses, cane, books, prosthetic leg and a cobra. In case you lost your cobra. Or, oops!, your prosthetic leg was left behind.

Years ago, when visiting my parents here, I'd stand on the subway platform or sit on the train and stare at people. I couldn't believe they got to live here. Girls my age would be going about their life and I'd look at them, wondering if they knew how lucky they are. Wondering what their life is like and how I wasn't doing this with them. The last few times I came here before deciding to move, I'd literally feel sick to my stomach - it was a growing pressure from within, this gut feeling that I was missing out on something so important. Important to me, yet I still don't know why. I'm still not quite sure where it came from or why I felt it so much more than so many others who have visited this city.

But now I'm one of them....and I still think about it often when riding the subway. I'm finally that girl I wanted to be. Sort of. A more realistic version than the one I had in my head, for sure. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else is in the shoes I'd worn for so long - the outside looking in - except this time I'm the one they're looking at, wondering what my life is like. It's not ego or pride driving that question....it's hope, if I had to put a word to it. I'd love to be that girl for someone else. I can still picture the "last" girl I saw, riding the E from JFK. Just doing her thing. Which was nothing at the time, other than going somewhere. I wanted to be her. I HAD to be her.

So I did it. And here I am. It's not what I'd thought it'd be, but it is. It's less and more and lots more and lonely but perfectly lonely. I do know that without R. here doing this alongside me, living this life he never wanted but is living because he did want a life with me, I'd have gone insane from lonliness long ago. And I owe him for that, forever. For letting me live my dream, even knowing I was going to do it one way or the other. Having my chance to do whatever the hell it is I need to do here, and with him....

Here's to another NYC year. Maybe our last. Maybe not. But definitely to a year full of somethings, together.

Goodness.

2005-11-20T20:35:00.000-05:00

We outdid ourselves this weekend. Normally we're pretty nomadic but we were pretty much on the go startin at 5pm Friday when I met R. at his office to head to dinner.

Basic recap/highlights:

Had the best steak of my life on Friday night at Delmonico's. Literally. And I'm a steak girl and have had a million of them. R. asked me what was wrong when I took the first bite because I just froze. Highly, highly recommend it if you ever have the chance (and if you're cheap like us, wait for it to be restaurant week when you get your whole meal for $20.)

Went to a small jazz place in the East Village afterwards - appropriately named Small's. If it hadn't been ten million degrees in there, we would have stayed through the whole set but it was still really cool.

Tried a new diner we always walk by at 2am. Why is diner-made hot chocolate so good? Mystery of life.

Saturday called for wedding band shopping in the diamond district. Those people are sharks. We didn't buy anything, but only because R. had to drag me off the block pretty quickly because he said my eyes were glazing over and I wasn't speaking in complete sentences. Pretty. Sparkly. Ooooh. Me likey.

Next was a Painting Party. My friend, Vadie, works for this non-profit called Publicolor, and it's the greatest thing ever. They paint low-income schools and completely transform them in the process - the kids get involved and it's all just so amazing, really. Saturday was their fall fundraising party so we shelled out some dough and painted a hall radiator in a smashing teal blast color, sporting fabulous tyvek suits and jamming to the DJ who was set up in the hall. It was AMAZING how the whole school was transformed within 2 hours. Simply amazing.

They bussed us over to a bar, Libation, for drinking and a silent auction. It's confounding how those two things just work so well together. By 8pm I was bidding on a men's watch that I thought was hideous, just because I could. Thankfully I was tied down to a chair before it ended.

and we MADE FRIENDS! We spent a lot of the time talking to this one couple and ended up going out to dinner with them afterwards, and then to a bar to watch....

(highlight alert)...the GT/Miami game. WHAT was that all about? We seriously won?

Today, cleaning and shopping. Well, more shopping than cleaning for me but our apartment looks great now. And just in time for visitors this week. :)

I'm pooped.

make it stop.

2005-11-18T10:38:00.000-05:00

I wish our walls weren't so thin.

We have this crazy lady next to us, and due to the way our building is laid out, her apartment runs the entire length of ours. And she's crazy. And we can hear it all. I think I get the worst of it working at home all day in silence, or near-silence when she's doing her special music.

This morning it began with the electric keyboard. She just bangs on it and it pains me. Probably more than most since I grew up studying piano, but it makes my ears hurt - and it's muffled so I can't imagine what it's like in the same room. Then she starts wailing along to it, almost like a tibetan chant with periodic hints of Freddie Mercury. A few moments of glorious silence occurred, until I heard the first few "chords" on the guitar. The guitar is much worse. It's a lot easier to hear the singing.

We've bumped into her a few times - literally, since our doors open up at a 90-degree angle. She and I have scared the crap out of each other when leaving at the same time. I don't know her name. I don't care. She is weird. She's probably in her late 40's, if I had to guess, and looks like someone who would own 14 cats.

I'm sure she's nice. I'm sure she has a raging social life and is very successful at whatever she does when she's not at home. But she always seems to be home. (Obviously, as am I.) But if only the "music" would stop....just for a bit. I'd even be happy if she could wait a bit longer to start it up every morning, because 8am and I just don't get along that well.

R. and I call her "crazy lady" - real original - and I can only wonder what she thinks about us. I'm sure she hears our wrestling matches and thinks we're killing each other late at night. Certainly if we can hear her, she can hear our TV, or the music we turn up high when making dinner. I'm quite positive it's not pleasant to hear my attempts at the violin, considering I can only play 7 or 8 notes, so maybe I'm the biggest hypocrite alive. I'm fine with that.

It's just the wailing. Make the wailing stop. I appreciate someone wanting to express themselves through song. I really do. And lord knows if you can't do it in your home, nothing is sacred. But oh my dear god in heaven. It hurts.

Maybe for Christmas we'll slip a coupon for voice lessons under her door. Would that be so wrong?

and if you're a cat person...

2005-11-18T09:37:00.000-05:00

or just like to laugh at them, this is a veddy good time.

flashback.

2005-11-18T09:34:00.000-05:00

Remember Oregon Trail? I LOVED that game. You can download it and play it here. I about died. Happy trailing!

seriously? part deux.

2005-11-15T21:27:00.000-05:00

Background: Woke up at 5:30am to catch a flight, which is a good 4 hours earlier than I prefer. Flight to Philly was delayed by an hour, and I raced to catch my connection but they decided to pull away from the gate just before the few of us arrived. Couldn't wait 5 minutes. Nope. That'd be asking too much. Lord knows you have to leave on time for ONCE when you have passengers coming in for a connection.

Caught later flight to Harrisburg. As a result, only had a 45-minute meeting with the dealer I was seeing because his ad guy leaves everyday at 1pm. Nice hours.

Back to Harrisburg airport, where I find out my flight to Detroit is also delayed by an hour. Fine. I have plenty of time to make my connection to Grand Rapids.

Apparently the travel gods do not want me to make it to Grand Rapids. Last week was ridiculous, but tonight took the cake.

Horrible, horrible flight to Detroit on a small plane. Turbulance that evoked a few small cries from a woman in front of me, which never helps matters. Couldn't see a foot outside the windows, except for when lightnighg would strike and light the clouds up. lovely.

Land in Detroit, and realize I have to race to catch my next plane - because I'll be DAMNED if I was going to have to reschedule my Grand Rapids meeting again. The dealer already thinks I'm nutso.

Naturally, my departing gate is a mile from where I came in. I am not exaggerating. My leg muscles were burning from the speed walking, and I had a healthy heartbeat going. Sweet, I thought, getting some exercise in. All is good.

Until I hear my name being paged over the loudspeaker in the ginormous Detroit terminal to board my plane. I can't bust into a run because of the bags I'm carrying and heels I'm wearing, so I walk faster than I thought was humanly possible.

And obviously it truly was faster than is humanly possible, or at least for me, because at that moment - right when the gate was finally in sight - I bit it. BIT IT. My ankle gave out, I lunged forward, bags a-flyin', and land with a thud on the ground. In the middle of a very crowded terminal hallway.

I didn't see a single face, but there was a crowd around me asking if I was ok. And I was. Mostly. Until I heard my name on the loudspeaker again and I absolutely burst into tears. Just full-on ugly cry, a la Oprah. All I could even get out to the masses trying to help me was a short, sobbing wail of "I'm fine...I'm just having the worst day ever!" as I staggered to my feet. Yep. That was me. The worst part was that I couldn't stop crying. Couldn't get a grip to save my life, even with this sweet airport employee lady, about my age, walking alongside me asking me over and over again if I was ok and trying to make me laugh.

I was Airport Meltdown Girl. It was all I could do to cut the tears off as I walked down the jetway, last one to board, certainly looking my best as I passed the rows and rows of a full plane. Naturally I was seated in front of a mother holding her 18-month-old girl, who discovered the joys of catapulting herself off her mom's lap so she could ram my seat with full force. Over. and Over. and Over again. I didn't even have the energy to turn around and glare. Not once on the 40-minute turbulent ride - which is that even legal to have a rugrat flying around like that when the flight attendants can't even get up to walk around? I promise you I will never be that mother. I know that's easy to say now, but I'm making that promise here and now. I don't care if the child screams bloody murder. They will be strapped into something - my chest or a seat. Regardless, I sat there and took it like a woman defeated.

But I'm in Grand Rapids. I am here. Mother nature so thoughtfully cued up some freezing rain to perfectly complement my pity party of one.

I'm taking Friday off. Maybe Thursday. Airport Meltdowns signal bad, bad things. I need to sit in a very still and quiet place for a day or two and reconnect with She Who Was Once Sane. I miss her so.

"Waiting for a star to fall"

2005-11-15T14:10:00.000-05:00

I missed my connection by 5 minutes this morning to ~~Time Warp~~ Harrisburg, PA so it's already been a long day. But I made it, had my super short meeting, and am in dire need of a nap.

I was all excited in the rented Chevy Monte Carlo because a Survivor song came on (the group, not the show) and I could belt it out. It's the only part of driving I miss - singing like a fool. I was cruising around looking for the well-advertised Harrisburg Mall, getting horribly lost, and didn't care. I was driving and singing. They played Ice, Ice Baby and I was thrilled/frightened to know I haven't forgotten a word. When I finally found the mall I discovered it consisted of a Bass Pro Shop and Hecht's. Blaaaah. Not a lot of help for my growling stomach. Luckily I scored rather high on the fast food hierarchy and went to Wendy's, even if the food was pretty rough on the Wendy's scale.

Sitting there, eating alone in blue-collar no-man's land, I paid little attention to the tunes being piped in until Starship came on (the group, not the Enterprise). Suddenly I was having mad flashbacks of my sister and I dressed in pink t-shirts and rolled-up jeans, doing some dance we'd made up and thinking we were the greatest dancers in all the WORLD. I think we even had matching pink bandanas tied on our ponytails.

And I realized that while I always have the impression that she and I fought our way through childhood and adolescence, we probably had a hell of lot more fun than I give us credit for. Even during high school, when we'd pass in the halls and completely ignore each other to the point where our friends would say, "wasn't that your sister?" and we'd just grunt in return, we'd still manage to have our random Night Attack Battles.

The doors to our rooms were right next to each other, and at the specified "Go to BED!" time, we'd lie on our rooms, silent as a mouse. Until someone decided they were feeling spastic and it wasn't sleepy time, and slither out of bed, crawl army style on the floor into the other's room, and jump up for the pounce attack. I have no idea how my parents didn't call 911 on us when hearing earth shattering shrieks out of the blue, but I suppose they were used to it. My poor dad just probably wanted to check into an insane asylum during those years. Or maybe all the years. Anyways, Night Attack Battles were always fun times and we never got tired of it. No wonder I'm a light sleeper.

Even though I don't think I've told R. about our weird sister games, he's figured out how to use the well-developed fear to his advantage. If he gets up to turn out the light, sometimes he'll be real still or crouch down below the bed. Five seconds later when I realize I'm not hearing progressive movement towards the bed, the shrieking and "don't you DARE scare me!!!!" begins, flailing legs going to fend off attacks, until he can't contain the laughter anymore. Good to know he's making up for Ali's absence and keeping my shrieking like a 12-year-old abilities honed.

(Music is tripping me out here. Since sitting in the airport, they've played another Survivor song, some Chopin tune, and Nancy Sinatra. And now Billy Joel. Let's Go to the Hop. Chaka Khan.)

I hate to admit it...

2005-11-14T15:41:00.000-05:00

...but I watch Everwood. It's a really good show, and you're legally not allowed to mock me until you've given it a shot. Witty conversations always get me, and this has plenty. Think Gilmore Girls but without the speed-talking exchanges that give you the shakes. I even had R. hooked at one point (until the girl that played Madison left and he didn't have a "hottie" to gawk at), but now I just watch it during the day when I'm catching up on tivo. And since Mondays are usually big yawners, I'm finally watching the episode from two weeks ago.

And now I want to track down the writers and thank them, because for the first time ever - and I really do mean ever - I heard a phrase that perfectly describes how I feel. How I've always felt. One of the characters, a girl who's a freshman in college, is talking about what she wants out of life. How she doesn't know, but she does know that she doesn't want to be like her mother - and she wasn't bashing her mother. She just said, "I don't want a small, safe life."

Yes, I'm quoting from Everwood. I know. But that sentence made me sit up. Literally. How have I never been able to put that into words? That the track I was on before was the track towards just that sort of life? It was going to be safe. Suburban mom with 3-kids, not having known anything other than that. Which was the part that bothered me so much and just ate me up inside.

I want to live big. At least for a little while. I want to experience as many things as possible and know what my options are - not options in careers or men, but options in how to live. Playing it safe has never, ever gotten me anywhere I wanted to be. I think I've taken huge risks, but only because I was too naive to realize how huge they were at the time and scared myself away from making the leaps. All I want for my life is to look back and have as few regrets as possible. I think "no regrets" is unrealistic. I want to know that when I had to chance to do something scary and new and exciting and against the grain, I grasped it and did what I could with it before letting it go.

I don't want safe and small. I want real. I need to be proud of my choices and know that I didn't accept anything less than what life had to offer, as much as is possible at each step of the way. I know that sounds idealistic and even a smidge pretentious, but if I can't do something with this "life is short" momentum I feel at every turn, I'm fairly certain I'll fold into myself and be nothing....worthwhile. For myself or anyone else.

I hope last week's episode of Everwood doesn't send me into a tailspin when I get to it next. There's only so much theme-song-laced introspection a girl can handle in a day.

2005-11-13T15:22:00.000-05:00

Got home from Atlanta yesterday afternoon without incident - landed at 4:40pm, was home, changed, and walking back out the door at 5:30 to meet R. and his coworkers who had been at the Chelsea Piers Beerfest all day. Lordy. I knew I was in trouble when I was walking up the stairs from the subway station and heard my name being yelled down the stairwell. Boys + Beer = Boisterous Bellowing. That's my alliteration lesson for the day.

We had a really great dinner at Va Tutto! (can't forget the exclamation point), went to get dessert at Ferraras, and then someone announced we should all go home for a bit before meeting back out at 10:30. I glanced up at R. just in time to see the look of deflation on his face, and had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't laugh. Going home was a death sentence for any hopes of a long night for him, and we both knew it. Yet we went anyways and sat on the couch, watching the UGA/Auburn game and waiting for it to be time to head back out. I kept seeing him slump lower and lower in his seat until finally he just gave up and laid down with his head on my leg.

And then the snoring started. And in that moment, looking down at his scruffy face, I had one of those overwhelming waves of "how can I love another human being this much?", quickly followed by, "there's no way I'll ever love my kids more than this. it's not possible. I'm already feeling guilty for loving my husband more and they don't even exist yet. should I start therapy now and get a jumpstart on it?"

It only got worse a few minutes later when he woke up (I think from his own snoring, which always kills me), sat up, and had my belt mark on his cheek. You just can't have too many of those moments in life.

Eventually we gave up and got into bed to watch the rest of the game so he could properly pass out. The night ended poorly though. We got super excited when Auburn made a long pass and fumbled into the end zone, pretty much guaranteeing their win over Georgia, and as I was standing up on the bed cheering, I hit my head on our ceiling fan. Which was on. My sister will call that karma, I'm sure. I'm just glad I didn't stick around Athens yesterday to go to the game, as I'd thought about doing (briefly). I'm quite sure it wasn't a fun place to be last night.

turns out...

2005-11-10T11:02:00.000-05:00

I think the whole travel fiasco last night happened solely so I could be home to watch Lost.

duuuude. what the hell. How is that show so good? I want to discuss but don't know if everyone (well, all 4 of you) have seen it yet so will refrain. I think watching America's Next Top Model before Lost sets my brain into a reality-tv-induced happy coma state, and then I get shocked to hell when I'm sent reeling the next hour. I do love me some ANTM though.

So. Today I'm off to Atlanta - leg 2 of my botched trip. Grand Rapids has been rescheduled for next week. I'm trying not to cry. Seriously, last night when I walked in the door and R. came up and hugged me I about lost it, and I can't even remember the last time I teared up, much less cried. It's just proves how stressed I am right now, not to mention in dire need of a vacation. It didn't help that my cab driver on the way home from LaGuardia tried to pull the $4.50 Triboro bridge toll bullshit on me - they're required to give you the EasyPass discount so it's $4.00, and it's not my fault he didn't have his EasyPass on him. I hate when they do that. It's such a scam - tourists have no idea and fork it over, and while it's only 50 cents it adds up fast if they do this to everyone. and I'll be damned if I'm forking that over just on the principle of the matter. And I seriously could not believe I was about to have to argue over half of a dollar with this dude after the night I'd already had in a cab.

sigh. I can tell I'm in a bad place when I'm swearing a lot. my internal filter shuts down when every drop of available energy is being spent on not killing all the stupid people I have to deal with.

god has a sense of humor, apparently.

2005-11-09T20:17:00.000-05:00

My flight was cancelled.

I am home.

I do not know whether to laugh or cry.

But I get to try this all over again tomorrow.

(as a note, this is not a good week to ask me if I enjoy traveling for work.)

seriously?

2005-11-09T18:15:00.000-05:00

I'm still shaking, I'm that mad. Irate is really a better word.

Just hopped in a cab for the usual 15-minute, $24 cab ride to LaGuardia.

One hour and $60+ on the meter later, we arrived. I could barely speak. It's rare that I get so enraged that the words don't come - I'm a talkative angry person, so this was a new level for me.

I had to text R. and ask him where I was at one point, giving him an intersection - I didn't even know what borough the bastard had taken me into, but I knew it was wrong and I wasn't getting answers out of him. And for a moment, I was a little scared. I felt like a hostage, not knowing where in the world I was and being fully aware that there was little I could do about it except to keep grilling the guy about where the f he was taking me. And being scared made me more mad. How dare anyone make me feel that way? It's dark and raining, and I may be scrappy but I would not do well if dropped off on a random street corner in the Bronx (turns out that's where I was at the time) and had to make my way home dragging my luggage and wearing a sweater set that screams Upper East Side girl: Have your way with me.

We finally got here - me irate, him a little wary of me, I think - and the jackhole actually said, "Just give me $40 plus tolls". Turns out I have a pretty good you're-kidding-me laugh/guffaw. I don't remember exactly what came out of my mouth next, but the words "crazy" and "crack" and "smoking" were in there as I jumped out, pounded on the trunk to get my bag, slammed the car door, and walked (quickly) inside, positive he was going to chase me and cause a scene about my not having paid.

I couldn't even swipe my card in the kiosk to get my boarding pass. That's how bad I was shaking. I dropped it on the floor, certain he was going to come up behind me and I was going to have to pull out my "don't MESS with me, buddy. You want to start with me?" spiel I'd been practicing, all with a public audience, and it's just not a role I'm comfortable playing. HORRIBLY non-confrontational.

But I would have done it.

I think he knew better though.

I did call and file a formal complaint once I could get a firm grip on my phone. And after I had a pretzel with cheddar cheese dip. I do have priorities.

Lord, please let the rest of this trip be ok. My flight's delayed by almost 2 hours out of here and I don't even care. Just give me nice people to deal with. Is that so much to ask? That shit just wore me out.

2005-11-08T19:32:00.000-05:00

Let's discuss the Delta Shuttle, shall we? Now. I'm not a total Shuttle virgin. I've taken the NYC - DC shuttle before, but on US Air. And now I just feel sad for US Air, because they don't even GET it. Granted, I'm a Delta snob from my years as a born-and-mostly-bred Atlantan, but they've been letting me down a lot lately so I didn't have high hopes - or any hopes for that matter - for today's venture. But I booked them because I want to make medallion again for '06, solely so I can board early and avoid the "will there be room for my wheelie bag? what if there's not ROOM? What will I DO??" stress that breathes fire through my soul while sitting in the gate area, waiting to board.

So I show up at the Delta Shuttle terminal this morning at 7:30am - and yes, it's a seperate terminal, which really stressed me out because when you go to LaGuardia, the cab driver asks you which airline and I said Delta and he said Shuttle? and I didn't know and was worried I'd be dropped off at the wrong place and have to walk 2 miles to the next terminal. Let's just assume that's happened to me before and move on.

Walk in...and there are free papers. Wall Street Journal, NY Times, USA Today. Just waiting for loving. Sitting in piles, needing owners. Wha? Delta's giving something away for free?

Then I see the line begin for boarding. Wha? No zones? No. Looking at my boarding card under seat, it says "ANY" in bold, caps letters. No comprendo. Free for all? I don't do well in free for all situations. I get stressed out. I like a guaranteed spot - a good one. And I really don't like being in situations when everyone else clearly knows the process and I don't. So I watched like a hawk and learned from the zillions of corporately-clad suits around me as they got in line to board, and I took my place among them. I looked the part, realized it, and instantly had that sinking "I'm turning into my father" feeling where I melt into the zombie world of travling for a living.

As soon as the line moved forward and we boarded, I realized the reason for the 30-minute line out at the gate. It's ALL a free for all. Including the first class, plush seats. Noted. I'll get in line as soon as I see one forming even if I have no idea what it's for, so I happened to be pretty far up there and was near the front of the plane. All was good. But then the snacks came around - snacks, you say? Sort of...if you count a brown bagged bagel with cream cheese and jam packets, which I DO. How nice was that at 8:30 in the a. to the m.? Mmmhm.

So the Shuttle gets high marks from me, albeit with only one trip under my belt. I'm sure that opinion is subject to change. It's such a homogenous crowd on the flights...it's really almost funny. Not a pleasure traveler in sight, that's for sure.

I'm pooped, but back home for a night until I set off tomorrow afternoon to Grand Rapids, Michigan (control your jealousy) and then to Atlanta to drive some new hot cars. I think I need a $900 power suit, a la Lynette on Desperate Housewives.

Nah.

2005-11-07T13:13:00.000-05:00

I think I may be hitting my travel-tolerance threshold. I always say I enjoy the travel part of my job, and I do. But it is EXHAUSTING. I almost think it would be better to be gone all week every week then do the bouncing-around-multiple-states thing I do for 2-3 days each week. This is my third week in a row of it and while I'm solely to blame for poor planning, I still feel the need to bitch and moan because I'm tired. So tired. I just got in last night from a long weekend in Atlanta - which is probably more to blame for my exhaustion than the previous few days of work travel - and now I have to prepare for an early a.m. flight tomorrow to D.C. for the day. Blah.

We're going to see Ben Folds tonight at Radio City, which I've really been looking forward to, but I'm fairly certain I'll fall asleep before intermission. And that will just be embarrassing.

R. and I had a classic we-act-like-toddlers-when-tired-and-traveling spat yesterday in the ATL airport, sparked by his insistence on carting his poker chip set all over creation whenever there's a slight chance of a game to be played in whatever city we're going to. The big silver case looks like something you'd pack a rifle in, so I'm never quite comfortable when walking through security with him and usually pretend like we're strangers who just happen to be in line next to each other. Well. The handle on his case broke on his way down to Atlanta from NYC, and apparently he decided that on the way home he was going to cram the large, extremely heavy silver case in my suitcase. My suitcase that is 580 years old and falling apart, and packed to the gills from having been on the road for 5 days which of course requires at least 3-4 pairs of shoes, which take up a lot of space.

I was not thrilled with this plan. And I said no. And he didn't like that. And I didn't like that he didn't like that and we walked in heated silence to the gate where I boarded the plane since my zone was being called and he had to stand there and wait for his zone. (Delta and their zones. Is that really the best thing they could come up with to call them? I always feel like I should be wearing a haz mat suit when someone tells me to wait for my zone. Zone is a weird word. I've never typed it this much in my life.) So of course he finally boards and sits next to me, where more heated silence ensues over a stupid poker chip case. Which I pointed out, which didn't help, but eventually we took off and had crackers and cheese and bottled water and we were back to friendly armrest battles like nothing had ever happened. And all was good again in the world.

And it's times like those when I feel like I'm getting a taste of what life would be like with a brother. We're so good at fighting over NOTHING, but getting over it in two seconds. And truthfully, I'm glad these are the things we bicker about. Because it's never anything big and important like if we're going to ~~brainwash~~ raise our kids Catholic or who will be in charge of the finances. Instead we battle over why I'm legally entitled to have more space in bed due to our sleeping styles, or if we should buy Tide versus Gain, or why "I've already showered today" is in fact a valid excuse for not going to the gym. Those are the really worthwhile arguments. Ones where there's never a clear winner, but you get points for pouting and stubbornness. Those are my times to shine.

muy tired.

2005-11-02T20:24:00.000-05:00

I am in my own personal hell: Detroit.

At least it's only on a layover and I don't have to leave the airport this time. People ask me why I left my last job and that's my answer: Detroit. Lordy, how I hated coming here every month. I am a bit thankful to be here though, only because I flew from Canton/Akron to here on a WWII-era prop plane. I swear to god. I didn't think we were going to even make take-off in one piece. And the whole plane rattled with this constant vibration, which eventually lulled me to sleep even though I was fighting it like crazy. Nothing good can come out of falling asleep on a 45-minute plane ride at night. It was one of those ugly nodding-off, falling-over in your seat sleeps and when I finally woke up I was so dazed by the lights below that I spent a good 5 minutes looking for the Washington Monument before I realized I was looking down on Detroit. Not D.C. That'll be next, and I'm sure I'll be passed out for that one as well.

And I was sitting behind a guy who I swear was over 7 feet tall. When we got off the plane he was talking to this 4'8" girl who, turns out, was traveling with him and is presumably his girlfriend/freakshow partner. And I saw a kickin' mullet. And I hit a guy in the head when opening the overhead bin. I tell you, it's 1940's engineering or something. (I did apologize profusely and I think he'd just woken up too because for some reason he found the whole thing amusing. I would not have in his position, but that's why he's probably going to heaven and my chances are only 50/50 at this point.)

Ohio, believe it or not, was gorgeous. It's peak fall leaves time and I drove through enough of the heartland to see every tree in the state, and it was lovely. Cue the muzak. I had quite a few entertaining conversations with dealer personnel today, but will refrain from recapping in an attempt to abide by Blogger 101 which says Thou Shalt Not Blog About Work. But as a tidbit, I got an eat shit and die look for not knowing the name of the ball bearing company in town. Because everyone knows who they are. How could you not? They keep the town ALIVE.

I fell victim today to the fast food hierarchy. They're all on different levels and where I eat depends wholly on my level of desperation while on the road. I caved to Burger King today, which I can't think about too much or I'll dry-heave here in the gate area. I try to avoid fast food all together, but there's only so much you can do when the choices in a town are BK or Earl's Hot Dog Haus, complete with a 50-foot long hot dog on the roof - topped with "chili" and "onions" that look like cow-sized maggots.

There goes the heaving.

I think my plane may board on time. It'll be good to get to my hotel by midnight and call R. and talk to someone since I obviously have conversational diarrhea right now. I need caffeine. I need my bed. I need to be out of work clothes and in my PJs please. I hope Lost was a rerun tonight. Don't tell me if it wasn't. Spare me the pain. I'm still 2 weeks behind on all things tivo. Are you seriously still reading this shit? And I'm done. :)

2005-11-01T18:07:00.000-05:00

goodness. I have an 8am flight tomorrow and am gone through Sunday, and I haven't been able to breathe today with all the running around. Not to mention we still have to do laundry tonight. "we" meaning not me. I'll make dinner though so I'm not completely heartless.

Crazy, crazy day. Went down to Union Square to meet R. for lunch and had horrible pad thai. I told him I'm not coming all that way for crappy meals anymore, and he just said I'm too picky. wtf. So I took him to another restaurant for dessert - warm tollhouse pie - and all was good in the world.

Last week we finally tried this diner around the corner - one of 50 diners around here - and as soon as we stepped inside it was time warp central and we were cracking up. I can't even explain it, but the sign on the door today does a perfect job: "After 75 years of business, we're closed for remodeling and will return soon with a new look!" Yep. That about says it all. Damn good food though.

So tomorrow I'm off to Ohio in the morning for two meetings, and then fly to D.C. tomorrow night. Meeting on Thursday there, and then fly to Atlanta where R. will meet me on Friday for a weekend of friends and football. Our "normal" fall weekend that we've been deprived of this year. Can't wait. Girls night out Friday, dinner with my sister Thursday, football on Saturday, visiting some new babies in between all that.

(I'm so spastic right now. ever get in hyper superproductive mode and even annoy yourself?)

2005-10-31T13:52:00.000-05:00

Sure feels good to be home, brief though it may be. I got in from Mpls. around 5:30pm on Saturday, just in time to come in and find R. "asleep" on the bed after an afternoon in a pub making new friends with - ironically - visitors from Minnesota. He just gets sucked into those places when I'm out of town. Amazing how that works. So after showering and getting half-ready to go out for the night, I made the mistake of lying down on the bed and that was all she wrote. We ordered in from our favorite Italian place...

...and then R. woke up the next morning feeling like he was going to die. I still think it was food poisoning, and he's not fully recovered. But yesterday was close to zero on the fun scale for both of us, especially since our already-postponed engagement pictures session had to take place. And yes, I was the mean fiancee' and made him go. Well, "made" is a bit too strong of a word. All I said was if he was physically able to do this, we should make a go of it since it would be weeks before we were in town again and the weather was mocking us with it's cloudless warm beauty. He was a major trooper (vs. a major general?) and hopefully his face doesn't match his green sweater when the pictures come back. I also quickly remembered how awkward it is to have pictures taken in public places like that. Plus I forgot to suck in. We may have to do a reshoot.

Happy Halloween! Two years in a row I haven't dressed up....and it's my favorite holiday. How sad.

2005-10-27T19:17:00.000-04:00

I am pooped and I still have two more days until I get home. At least the 'hard' part of my trip is over - meetings with a dealer in D.C., one who wasn't happy with me but is now. yawn.

Flying into Minneapolis tonight was really cool. Usually I'm engrossed in a book but I had dozed off and woke up in time to see us descending, and it's definitely full-on fall here right now. It may have been the late afternoon sun, but the trees all looked amazing. I traced the streets to the suburb I used to live in and found my high school, and it was just one of those neat flying moments. They're rare, so I hang onto them when I can.

And people are just do goddamn nice here. It's true what they say - the cold weeds out the meanies. It's such a difference from what I'm used to. There's friendly banter when you order room service, for crying out loud.

Anyways, tomorrow will be a nice day in the office here. It'll be nice to pretend like I'm a normal employee who goes to work and sits at a desk and actually interacts with people in the flesh for awhile. Then I get to go to my friend's birthday party tomorrow night! yay! I'm so glad this trip worked out that way. Normally I miss all the fun stuff.

I am sleepy. Guess I should at least try to make it until 10 or 11 before hitting the hay, but airplanes and rental cars and suitcases just suck the life out of me. zzzzzzzzzzz.

2005-10-26T12:41:00.000-04:00

Packing is so hard for me. You'd think I'd be better at it, having to do it most weeks of my life. I have a system now, which is better than the way I used to do it which was to just throw a bunch of shit in my suitcase and hope I could make outfits out of it once I got to my destination. That never really worked out for me.

Off to D.C. today, then to Minneapolis and back on Saturday. Just in time to find out if we're really going to any Halloween festitivies and an hour to pull a costume together. Procrastination, what? Me?

I've been saving "Million Little Pieces" just for this trip since I'm going to be in airport hell, and I'm SO excited to finally be able to start reading it today! I didn't want to even read one page at home because I knew I'd get sucked in and not be able to stop. Is that weird?

Paris won, by the way. :)

ah yes.

2005-10-25T22:47:00.000-04:00

My friend had her baby last night...a little boy they named Nathan. Full head of hair, cute as can be. :)

I made pizza tonight for dinner and put too much garlic on it, and now feel completely and disgustingly gross.

2005-10-25T13:21:00.000-04:00

p.s.

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is on tonight, so my day is saved.

2005-10-25T12:26:00.000-04:00

I cannot. read. anything. more about the state of things in Mexico. It's giving me a heart attack and I keep seeing conflicting reports about our resort. It's either fine and already re-opened or it's closed for at least two months and they're not taking reservations for dates before March. DO THEY NOT UNDERSTAND THEY'RE DEALING WITH CONTROL FREAKS WHO NEED TO KNOW AN UP TO THE MINUTE STATUS of every detail? Can they not factor that into rebuilding and recovering from a catastrophic natural disaster? I mean, come on. :)

I am poopy over that, even though I know it'll be fine, but more poopy over an incident this morning with a friend that required me to be more confrontational than I'm comfortable with. All over email, of course. I'm just not good at telling people when I'm upset or mad, believe it or not. It's hard for me to tell people upfront how I feel, whether it's good or bad. So having to pull out the "you hurt my feelings" card makes me sick to my stomach and I feel like crawling back into bed and pulling the comforter over my head. I may just do that for a bit. The rain isn't helping my mood anyways.

2005-10-24T14:18:00.000-04:00

Lots going on today.

It's my mom's birthday - happy birthday, Mom! :)

My friend, Elena, is in labor and I'm so excited to hear the big news. I still don't get how people wait to find out if it's a boy or a girl, but I have to admit it does build more anticipation into the whole event. I still have a hard time accepting that my friends are having babies.

I have no idea what the damage report is for 'our' resort in Mexico. I guess we'll know more by the end of the week, but I'm sure it's all fine. I'm just thanking the heavens for our intelligent decision to not plan a wedding in a hurricane zone during hurricane season. And I still can't type hurricane correctly.

I can barely move my upper body due to our couch escapades yesterday. We sold our massive fold-out sleeper sofa to a girl who needed help moving it into her apartment. Little did we know that would mean 2 hours of complete backbreaking hell consisting of manuvering a large couch through a small doorway. We literally had to break the couch to get it inside. And then we had to go pick up the smaller couch we'd bought - one that lays flat into a bed and is quite cute - but we barely had it out of the car in front of our apartment before I announced that I was done. No more. My arms had given out for the day. Meanwhile the couch was sitting in the street while R. looked at me with complete disbelief. I realized his head was about to detach from his body from the build-up of steam, so I sucked it up and we managed to get it up to our FIFTH FLOOR APARTMENT. I am she-woman. Hear me roar. We also had conversations with more people in our building than in the past 6 months combined, since everyone that walked by us during our frequent stops on each floor's landings stopped to say, "dude. that sucks. I feel your pain." Thanks. If you really felt my pain you would be crying right now and throwing yourself onto the couch, proclaiming your inability to lift it one more inch and that you'd rather die than have to ever do this again.

So. On a completely unrelated topic, if you had to choose between Ireland or Paris for a honeymoon, what would you pick? Let's say you've been to Ireland together but never Paris, which one of you has never been to at all. And you know that you're going to be spending the rest of your life going back to Ireland as many times as possible. Hmmm? Vote please.

2005-10-21T12:15:00.000-04:00

Everyone in my family falls down a lot. I'm not sure which gene is responsible, but if you hang around us long enough you're bound to see someone eat pavement. My mom just tore her rotator cuff in her shoulder in an attempt to save herself from a trip down the strairs, my dad has had multiple twisted ankles from dangerous curbs, I myself broke my foot stepping off a curb, and my sister and I share an uncanny knack for biting it after a night of drinking. It's not uncommen for us to sport scrapes on our arms or legs, and usually the stories are quite entertaining once our wounds and egos have healed. To top it off, I also bruise easily - like if you look at me too hard - and am forever discovering mystery bruises in random places. When I was a kid I read somewhere that frequent bruises are a sign of leukemia and was convinced for years that my diagnosis was right around the corner. This may explain why I dread Dr.'s appointments.

Last night was one of those nights where I bit the dust, and this time it was outside the subway station. We had gone to dinner and I didn't eat much because the corn tortillas in my dish just weren't doing it for me, and then to a bar for the infamous co-ed GRITS night. Apparently my tolerance is way low from us not having friends to go out drinking with anymore, because, as R. puts it., I got a bit 'surly' by the end of the evening. As did a few of the other girls, which I'm sure only encouraged my inability to shut the hell up. Point is, we finally left to head home and I was trailing behind R. by quite a bit. Focusing on my walking, if you will. He said he suddenly heard a lot of commotion behind him and turned in time to see me flailing and falling in slow motion onto the asphalt. I think he even picked me up. All I know is today I'm sporting some massive scrapes on the palm of my right hand. It hurts.

I will not be drinking for awhile. We've definitely toned down our party behavior, but good to know I still have it in me. I just wish I didn't fall down all the damn time. I don't even have to be drunk for that.

2005-10-20T12:28:00.000-04:00

so many geeks, so little time.

Wilma, Wilma, go away.

2005-10-20T11:31:00.000-04:00

Our wedding resort is directly to the left of the big swirling mass you see here (image stolen from cnn.com). That would be the resort that's re-opening next week after repairs are completed to damages sustained from Emily a few months ago.

Sweet.

I need the "all about me" t-shirt.

2005-10-19T16:47:00.000-04:00

1. Look up Pisces in the dictionary and my picture will be there.
2. I'm a picky eater.
3. Snakes are cool.
4. Spiders are not.
5. I have a younger sister and we look nothing alike, except for our height.
6. I love Dannon strawberry fruit on the bottom yogurt, but still pick around the fruit.
7. My nails break every day no matter what I do.
8. I was a guest on Oprah with my dad while in college.
9. The smell of (and thought of eating) seafood and fish makes me gag.
10. I had a pet hamster in 3rd grade who ran away.
11. My hair is naturally wavy but not in a good way.
12. I can touch my tongue to my nose.
13. My name means "Grace" which is the biggest oxymoron ever.
14. Skiing (snow) is the only sport I've been naturally great at.
15. I love taking pictures.
16. I grew up with a cat named Cleo. We realized it was a boy after we named him and it stuck.
17. I would go out dancing every weekend if I could.
18. I never tire of watching Sex and the City reruns.
19. I drink a diet coke every single morning.
20. I went to Space Camp when I was 10.
21. I got engaged to my ex after dating for less than 4 months.
22. I only make brownies and cookies so I can eat the batter.
23. Thunderstorms make me feel safe.
24. Working out feels like punishment.
25. I've never had my cholesteral taken because I'm scared of the results. 26. I never met either of my grandmothers.
27. I love cruises.
28. I'm horrible at making small talk.
29. I've never had a cavity.
30. I'd love to be a doctor but can't stand blood and guts.
31. I decided not to go to college to study piano and still think I did the right thing.
32. I hated moving around so much growing up.
33. I only buy pink kleenex.
34. I used to steal money off my parent's dresser when I was little.
35. Post-it notes are overrated.
36. I worry too much about what other people think of me.
37. I don't understand how people let themselves get fat even though I know it's not that simple.
38. I'm picky about the pens I use.
39. I slept through an interview in college that I was pre-selected for, and wonder about it all the time.
40. I used to worry that I'd grow up and be gay and have to cut my hair short.
41. I'm concious of my looks being an advantage in my job and I feel guilty about not feeling guilty.
42. I hate hearing the beep of my computer when a new email comes in.
43. I'll go weeks without emailing my friends to see how long it takes them to email me first.
44. Tivo changed my life.
45. I have no secrets.
46. I always wanted to join the Peace Corps.
47. I say "ciao" when signing off in emails and don't know why.
48. I type extremely fast.
49. I spend a fortune on books even though I have a library card.
50. Short people intimidate me.
51. I almost got kicked out of my sorority because of a party I didn't even go to.
52. My marriage ended over a Porsche and now I ride in them almost ever week for work, and a part of me gloats each time I sit down in the front seat.
53. I'm inherently lazy.
54. I still sleep with my baby blanket.
55. I get sad when there's no mail in my mailbox.
56. I've been a bridesmaid 8 times. Or 9. I've lost count.
57. I like snow globes.
58. I'd like to meet the inventor of coasters.
59. I wish I could teleport.
60. I grew up watching Star Trek: The Next Generation with my dad and still have a thing for Patrick Stewart.
61. I'm secretly crafty, in a Martha Stewart kind of way.
62. It's extremely hard for me to part with clothes when cleaning out my closet.
63. I'm a pack rat.
64. I went to a Debbie Gibson concert.
65. I'm the ultimate planner and am always the social organizer in my group of friends
66. I've never had coffee and don't ever plan to.
67. I read a lot, and quickly, and sometimes skim when reading.
68. Pennies irritate me.
69. I have no idea what my favorite flower is.
70. I'd love to see every square mile of Italy someday
71. I much prefer being uncomfortably hot than bitterly cold
72. My toes are always painted.
73. I think "all about me" lists are self-indulgent.
74. My future in-laws can't stand me.
75. I'm horrible at math yet somehow did really well on my math SAT's.
76. I won a Young Author's award in 3rd grade and worry that it was the pinnacle of my writing career.
77. I think I'm turning into my mother.
78. I talk too much when I'm drinking.
79. I only like college football games because of the tailgating and socializing.
80. Hot dogs gross me out.
81. I get steaming mad when men whistle or catcall me on the street, but dread the day it stops.
82. I'm uncomfortable in a crowd of strangers.
83. I read at least a dozen blogs a day.
84. I'm too scared to get Lasik.
85. I don't know if I'll ever be happy living in one place for too long.
86. I'm a sucker for casseroles.
87. My biggest fear in life is him cheating on me and never knowing it.
88. I can't sleep without the ceiling fan on.
89. I look up to my dad more than anyone and he has no idea.
90. I never play the lottery.
91. I was briefly on my college dance team but got cut after a few months. (see #53.)
92. Diamonds are, in fact, a girl's best friend.
93. I was a National Merit Semifinalist and wish I had tried harder and been a finalist.
94. Hairy chests are hot, in moderation.
95. I hate cleaning the bathroom more than anything in the world.
96. My sister is way cooler than I am.
97. I have grey hairs.
98. College graduation was the happiest day of my life.
99. I have no tolerance for stupidity.
100. I love sweatpants and sweatshirts.
101. I want to make a difference, but don't know how.

The beauty of working at home.

2005-10-19T13:20:00.000-04:00

If your new bra is bothering you, just whip off your shirt at your desk and adjust the straps. Voila!

2005-10-19T12:02:00.000-04:00

They're correct...this surprises no one. It may make me want to cry but doesn't surprise me.

I am old.

2005-10-18T22:25:00.000-04:00

Hear me roar.

There's a few schools around us, and I'm constantly seeing kids walk around during their lunch breaks or after school. They range in age from tiny tikes to high schoolers and their outfits are so fascinating that I feel like I'm staring at animals in a zoo. It's probably not that bad of a metaphor. The private school rugrats are always either pristinely dressed in their uniforms or trying their damndest to individualize it within the limits. I saw some girls outside smoking in their grey and white garb and almost fainted - did I really know people in high school that smoked?

and then I realized I am old.

I look old to the youngins that walk by. Me in my jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, flip-flops and ponytail, carrying packages to and from Mailboxes, Etc. and trying my best to concentrate on walking *by* the pizza place and not *into* it with each passage. I'm sure I look pissed off. It's really just self-discipline tormenting me.

It's absolutely mind-boggling to me that these kids are growing up in NYC like this. That they just walk the streets with never a care in the world, not knowing what it's like to wait at a bus stop or have to carpool home after soccer practice. If they even have soccer practice - lord knows where they play. Playgrounds are on top of school buildings - you can see the nets meant to keep stray balls and scaling children in check - but I doubt there's lots of room up there. How weird is it to grow up here? I mean, not weird to them, obviously. But so different than the way the majority of us grew up.

Will anything ever be impressive to the 6-year-old when she outgrows her pink smock and mary janes? Is she going to be intimidated by open space and mountainscapes when she ventures out of Manhattan and sees things with city eyes? How odd to know a world of skyscrapers and taxis, delivery boys on bikes zipping and almost killing you when you step off the curb. Not living in total fear of strange men because you're surrounded by them at every turn. I know thousands of kids are growing up like this....and sometimes I feel sorry for them because they'll never have that sense of awe so many of us have when first setting foot in New York. They'll never understand what it's like to be the one looking in and trying to acclimate and own our own slice of the craziness, as much as is possible anyway.

Maybe I'm just jealous in a way. I always did think school uniforms were cool. But more likely I'm just getting old.

2005-10-18T11:27:00.000-04:00

Hysterical. My guess is they start passing these out on sorority Bid Day.

oy vey.

2005-10-18T09:51:00.000-04:00

I knew the second I walked outside this morning at 8:59 a.m. that once again, I was out of the loop. See, we have to move our car a few times a week for street cleaning, and on our street that means you sit in your car from 9-10:30 a.m. watching the street ticketing people walk up and down, waiting to pounce on you with a $75 orange citation. I dread seeing orange on our windsheild. Even if the street cleaner has already swooshed by and you've taken your place back on the proper side, you can't leave. They'll still get you. Trust me, I know. Even if the street cleaner never, ever, ever comes by, you'll still be ticketed. Those are my least favorite days in all the days.

This morning I stepped out our front door and realized instantly it was some obscure holiday and I could have stayed in bed. Not a single person was in their car, idling in a double-parked space on the other side of the street. Dammit! How do we not get these memos? This happens ALL the time to us. We've slowly figured out the alternate side parking thing, or so we thought, but people just *know* things that we don't. Like the 77th St. subway station randomly being closed for cleaning. Or a mystery street fair popping up on 1st. Ave and we have no clue until late in the day when we venture out on another mission and end up getting horribly sidetracked by rows and rows of t-shirts in bins, gaudy jewelry, and smelly candles. It's all baffling. When we first moved here we seriously could not figure out how everyone knew about all of this stuff while we just blindly stumbled around. It feels like some underground communication network that we're not a part of.

Apparently today is Succoth, the Jewish harvest celebration. Of course. I tell you what, though...by the time we leave here we'll be experts on Jewish holidays. They will be "you can sleep in days" from this point forward.

Happy Succoth.

2005-10-17T15:04:00.000-04:00

The problem with a nice, laid-back weekend is that I get antsy on Monday to *do* something. We went out Friday night - drinks at the Modern in the MoMa and then dinner at Artisanal (fantastic) - and the rest of the weekend pretty much did nothing. Unless you count watching a bazillion hours of football as doing something, which I don't.

So now I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go on a Monday afternoon. I'm always stuck here on Mondays because of conference calls, which stinks because otherwise it's always a dead day work-wise. grrrr.

Our engagement pictures are on Saturday, and R. doesn't understand why I'm excited about this. a) it's doing something outside of this damn apartment. b) I get to dress him and pretend like I'm a personal stylist, which he never lets me do. c) I'm getting my hair cut that morning for the first time in 4 months. a 1/4" trim, but it counts. Growing my hair out is so painful. I live in ponytails because I hate my hair this long. But it'll be worth it when it's out of my face in Mexico.

The only other thing of interest is Thursday night's GRITS happy hour. Girls Raised in the South. Stop rolling your eyes - there are 400 of us on the monthly evite, thank you. But this week we get to bring our boys - BRITS, I guess. It's a really strange thing...I love it and think it's annoying at the same time. The majority of us are from Atlanta or some small-town Georgia cow-crossing since a UGA girl started it all about 2 years ago. It's nice to talk hometown talk and hear familiar places and play the name game. It's all six degrees of seperation with that group anyways.

My friend and I walked into last month's happpy hour and thought we were the first ones there....until we saw a girl sitting at the bar with a cardigan twinset (cardigan tied around her neck, natch), pearls on her ears, wrists, and around her neck, and a monogrammed ribbon purse. It was obvious she'd moved here the day before or something close (true, as it turns out.) because no one in their right mind carries a monogrammed ribbon purse in Manhattan. Bless her heart. I started to like her until I asked what she did for a living and she drawled, "I'm retired. My husband works." That's just so lovely. You're not even 30 yet and have already "retired". Mama must be so proud.

Anyways, it's a fun time of socializing with other Southern girls and letting my own drawl come back out for a few hours, while being sure to tuck it away by the time I have both feet in the cab home. It's nice to have a forum to potentially make new friends, and my book club came out of this group so I guess it's working.

I just don't know what R.'s going to make of it all on Thursday. Something tells me GRITS should never be going co-ed.

The beauty of NYC.

2005-10-15T20:27:00.000-04:00

10am: Wake up enough to form the words, "you know the girl who bought our bed is coming to get it today." No response. "This means we have no bed tonight." Pause. "Oh."

10:45am: R. finds a listing on Craig's List for new mattresses. Makes 5-minute phone call. Haggles briefly. Conversation concludes.

1:45pm: Doorbell rings. Brand new queen mattress set - including free frame, mind you - is delivered to our bedroom. No delivery charge.

2pm: Bed is assembled, made, and we're lying on our backs discussing how great life is in this fair city.

Love it. It's easy to become jaded by this place. It really is. I never understood the people who didn't LOVE New York, but probably because I've always had the bug. I get it now. I know it can get to you, but I'm glad I can see that side of it finally. We all definitely have the days where it sucks and you're bitter, but the majority of them are spent wondering how you could ever choose to live anywhere else. There are magical New York days, plenty of them, and they make up for the tough ones. I'm glad I don't have my blinded-by-the-magic outlook on the city anymore, because it makes it that much more real to be living it.

This probably makes zero sense if you haven't lived here. But you have to agree that being able to make a 5-minute phone call and have a mattress delivered to your door within a few hours is a miracle that few cities can duplicate with such ease and normalcy. It's really true that you can get anything and everything delivered at anytime of day.

And that's just part of why I love it here, and always will in that deep, special, New York City space of my being.

p.s. Yay for no decks and a real bed! Disaster averted.

2005-10-13T17:19:00.000-04:00

I am delirioso, and no, I haven't been drinking.

See, I'm marrying a guy that likes to cook. he likes to cook so much that he wants to go to culinary school and have people pay him to do it someday. I do not understand this particular enjoyment, but probably because I don't even understand the purposes of half the utensils in the drawer. So, given all that, you'd think the question, "what's for dinner, hon?" would be a normal - even expected - one to ask. But for some reason he hates it. The response I usually get over IM when I ask this on a daily basis around 4pm is, "I'm not hungry."

duh. I know you're not hungry at 4pm. I am, but I'm always hungry. The question was more about what you're going to brew up for us once your happy little butt walks in the door tonight. Cause the graham crackers I had for lunch just aren't cutting it, and lord knows I can't go grocery shopping in the rain. hello.

This is such a normal exchange for us, and reading back through here it occurred to me that I sound like a 12-year-old. The poor guy is getting a taste of what life with kids will be like, except I'm the annoying kid right now. But a girl's gotta EAT.

A: i'm hungry
R: of course
A: i didn't really eat lunch.
withering.
R: mexican night
A: out or in?
R: in
A: taco salad?
R: chicken and cheese enchiladas
A: tortillas and cheese dip?
NACHOS GRANDE?
R: ha
A: seriously. i want cheese dip.
for real.
R: i am sure
A: i haven't had it in FOREVER
i am dying.
R: ok, we shall see about that as an appetizer
A: ok. are you stopping off on the way home?
R: yes
A: ok. get lots of cheese please.

and now's about the time when I realize I need to nibble on something because I'm cracking myself up over nothing. coo-coo.

2005-10-13T11:33:00.000-04:00

ok, the rain can stop now. Getting a bit ridiculous and we're going to float away.