Back

So as it turned out, Christmas was wonderful. Everything that I was stressed about was put on the back burner. Time with my family, fun gifts, great wine and yummy food made the holiday special.

And last night Michael and I decided to take advantage of the after-Christmas sales. New pants and jeans for him. New boots for me. YAY! The perfect boots I had been eyeing but couldn't rationalize buying during gift-giving season. And now they were on sale for $70 less. I couldn't pass them by this time.

The only problem is...I'm really out of space.

That's not even all of them!

For the remainder of my vacation I am focusing on kicking the cold I've developed and celebrating New Years Eve/my birthday with some great friends. Boobeski is coming tomorrow and my oldest friend (literally since we were infants) is coming Sunday.

Looks like it will be a happy new year!

Thanks

Just wanted to post a little update. Things are getting better...working themselves out. Thank you all for your kind words and support. It meant a lot.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

From Now On Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away?

It's the last day before vacation and while I am looking forward to the break and seeing my family, I am very aware that this holiday will not be all merry and bright. This is going to be a hard Christmas.

My sister has caused the family a lot of heartache and stress lately. Trust has been lost. A lot of feelings have been hurt. A lot of tears have been shed. And while I'm still looking forward to seeing everyone, embracing them in hugs and watching them open their gifts, a part of my holiday spirit has really died.

I'm so tired. I'm tired of crying at night. I'm tired from crying at night. I'm already counting down the minutes until today is over because each day that passes is one day closer to things getting better. I hope.

I know we'll all pull together as a family and make the most of the holiday and the time we have together. I am thankful for them and for Michael, who has been my rock and supplier of hugs through all of this. Without him I would be lost.

Happy holidays to all of you.

Distraction

How to take your mind off the crappy stuff and put yourself in a better mood:

Go out to lunch with friend. Discuss things that make you laugh and laugh.

Pop into a store after lunch and leave with two beautiful Ralph Lauren and French Connection tops that are as soft as bunnies on clouds and were ON SALE that you just lurrrve.

Buy two magazines to read curled up under a blanket on the couch when you get home.

Have a really great hair day with perfect waves that are neither too curly nor too frizzy.

Remember the Ben and Jerry's peanut butter cup ice cream that's waiting for you in the freezer.

101

My head is kind of all over the place today, so please excuse the sporadic ramblings that follows. First off, yesterday was my 100th post. That may not be a lot in the world of blogging, but I thought it was pretty cool.

Secondly, that family stuff I thought was getting better? It's not. It's getting worse. And my anxiety over it has sky rocketed. I feel physically sick over the situation and I'm really angry. That's all I really want to say about it right now, but it's definitely on my mind.

Got my Christmas present from my boss this morning and it's awesome. Mighty Girl wrote this book and I now own it. Now I have no excuse for a boring post. Did I mention it's awesome? Because it is.

It's no secret I love the Christmas season. But know what I don't like? Holiday commercials. OK, some of them are alright. But most of them? Awful. Especially:

Victoria's Secret: Featuring Heidi Klum singing "Santa Baby" very, very badly. I don't know about you, but this does not make me want to buy underwear. It makes me want to change the channel. And fast. Of course, it's probably not marketed to females...

Lexus: Oh how nice. You go out into your driveway and there's a shiny new Lexus with a big red bow just for you! Except in my world, that would never happen. And I think it's fair to say that most people are not getting a new Lexus for the holidays. If you are, congratulations to you. But me, I drive a Honda Accord.

Jeweler Commercials: Kays, Beldin, Jarrod's (these last two might be RI places, not sure.) If I have to hear one more cheesy song playing in the background while diamond circle pendants sparkle on the screen I'm going to vomit. And their gimmicks are so...gimmicky. "Every kiss begins at Kay," "He went to Jarrod's! He went to Jarrod's? He went to Jarrod's!!!!" Once again, I apologize if this is something you enjoy, but I would prefer not to get a diamond circle pendant that anyone could pick up at the Walmart jewelry counter. I'm just saying.

Old Navy: Get your fash-on. Yeah, I get it. FashiON. So funny. So annoying. Especially with children and dogs jumping out of boxes. I wish they would stop.

Michael likes the JC Penny commercial with the remix of "Here Comes Santa Claus." I like that one because he dances to it and I think it's so cute.

Also, I baked cookies last night for my boss. Which meant my dinner was cookies and two glasses of wine.

And I'm OK with that.

Route 1: Revisited

Dear Route 1,

It's been awhile since we've last spoken. I know I made myself clear when I told you it was over between us. I've driven over you since our parting without so much of a Hello tossed your way. But today, the silence must be broken. Because today, Route 1, today you pissed me off. Big time.

Please explain to me the reasoning behind the road work at 8:30 a.m. I was driving along, enjoying the sunshine, singing aloud to Christmas carols when I saw the orange cones in the distance. "Merge Left" the sign instructed. OK. I merged left. But what is that big sign up ahead? A stop sign? Are you serious?

So I stop. And the man behind me in the truck stops. And lights a cigarette which means I have to switch my air intake to internal instead of external because I do not want to smell the smoke. And we sit. And sit. And sit. And....oh, wait! No, just kidding. We're still sitting.

Five minutes go by. Ten minutes. Twelve minutes and ARE YOU SERIOUS? And now, Route 1, I'm starting to get a little nervous. Because the man behind me? He's Freaking. The. Hell. Out. As in screaming obscenities and slamming his steering wheel so hard that the truck is shaking. And in your genius, Route 1, you have left no escape route. There's a median to my left, cones to my right and vehicles in front and behind me. If the guy goes postal, I'm going down.

So I eat my granola bar and try not to look in my rear view mirror (even though I want to watch the freak out) because I'm afraid if we make eye contact I'll become a victim of some serious road rage. I blame you for instilling this fear in me, Route 1.

And then, a highway worker starts flipping out at the cops up ahead because they're not paying attention and they've been letting cars go in the opposite directing for nearly 15 minutes now and there is a line for miles backed up in my direction. I know this because he was throwing his hands in the air and yelling. He was doing this next to my car, Route 1. Also your fault.

And finally, when we start moving, I get leered at. A gross snarl from a scruffy man in a hard hat who topped it off with a wink. And the road work? You mean that piece of plywood we bounced over? I didn't find that so amusing, Route 1. I really didn't. After all that there should have at least been a big hole.

I feel secure in my earlier decision to end our relationship. Tomorrow I will once again drive over you and give you the cold shoulder.

Just remember, you brought this upon yourself.

Two Turtle Doves And Some Things Just For Me

I finally finished my Christmas shopping this weekend. Everything is wrapped and waiting in big shopping bags to go home to New York.

I love looking at those bags of gifts. It's so nice to finally be in a position where I can afford to give the people I love all the things I want to give them. I spent way too much money on gifts, but I'm OK with that. Although my bank account may be crying a little.

Jen and I braved Target and the Christmas Tree Shop this weekend. Those are two places you really don't want to be a week before Christmas. But we were successful and actually managed to cross the remaining gift-needs off our list.

Since beginning my shopping in November, I've been pretty good about just buying things for others. However, a few items may have been slipped in that are all for me. They include socks, lotion, a DVD, two ornaments, a stuff Newfoundland that I couldn't resist even though I'm really not a stuffed animal person, countless soy chai lattes and one pair of shoes.

Fabulous leopard-print shoes.

Don't judge.

In the Last 24 Hours...

Embarrassing: Having a face that turns a shade slightly lighter than a tomato when I work out and remains that way for over an hour.

More Embarrassing: Tripping out the door as I was leaving the pizza place. In front of employees. And customers. Who laughed.

Most Embarrassing Thing Ever EVER: Telling your boss you have diarrhea when you could have just said you were sick and then proceed to continue to ramble on about how you know it's gross and he probably doesn't want to hear about it but you CAN'T STOP TALKING even though the voice in the back of your head is yelling SHUT UP! and proceed to spew word vomit all over yourself causing quite the verbal train wreck.

**Hanging head in shame**

When All The Rules Go Down The Toilet

This is a weird topic and not for the squeamish. I'm serious. If you're easily grossed out, stop reading.

That being said...those of you in a relationship: what are your bathroom boundaries?

Mine used to be very cut and dry. When I'm in the bathroom, he's not. Period. I didn't mind if he wanted to brush his teeth while I was in the shower, but anything involving the toilet was off limits until I was done.

As our relationship progressed, the boundaries changed. It started with peeing while the other one was in the shower. Then it was peeing while the other one was brushing their teeth.

The boundaries had been reset. I was OK with them.

And then they changed.

Michael got sick. The kind of sick that makes you go to the bathroom. A lot. Our house is small and there's only one bathroom. So when someone's really sick, you know it. Now I worked in a daycare for a year after college. I've changed more than my fair share of dirty diapers and went through countless accidents that occur during potty training. Obviously I don't enjoy other people's bowel movements, but I can handle them.

Since he would be in there so long, we would end up talking through the door. I'd be playing with the dog, he'd be doing his business. It actually didn't seem that weird, except for when he would talk about it. Is it all guys or just My Guy that likes to discuss the details of his excrements?

Eventually it started cutting into my routine. I needed to do my makeup before work, but he was occupying the room. So I'd dash in, grab my stuff and dash out. Then finally, he had to go when I was in the shower. What can you do, say no?

Now we did not make a habit of this. That was an emergency situation. He does not have the freedom to do as he pleases on the toilet while I'm in there. I don't bring in a chair and discuss current events. This will never be a regular event for two. It's still a private time.

And then this morning, while he was in the shower, it hit me. I had to go. It was my turn to push the boundaries. Was I ready for it? I momentarily panicked. Up until now it had always been him going in my presence. Was I ready to share the most personal of situations, which could potentially included noises or smells?

Turns out I was. Oh he made fun of me, of course. But it wasn't that bad.

I cannot wait until we have two bathrooms.

Lesson Learned

There is no neat way to eat an orange at your desk.

You will fail from the moment you cut into the rind and citrus-y goodness sprays all over your keyboard, to your first bite that shoots juice onto your computer screen.

Kudos if you can manage to keep to juice that's running down your arms off of your sweater.

Thank goodness for Clorox wipes.

ABC's

Loyal readers (all six of you,)

Thank you for letting me vent to you yesterday. I know you don't come here for woe is me. You come here for the happy! Sarcastic! Fun! So I have returned. But since this has been a draining week I'm not feeling especially creative, this post is borrowed from the lovely Amalah. Enjoy!

Admiring: How soft my hair is today.

Beating myself up about: Not getting to the gym enough.

Crying over: Ugh, you'd think I have my period. Christmas commercials, when the Grinch's heart grew three sizes (and he gets the strength of 10 Grinches plus two,) my sister.

Daydreaming about: Lying on the couch with Michael under the glow of the Christmas tree. And a grilled cheese sandwich.

Excited because: Christmas is almost here and I might have lunch with Elle on Friday.

Frustrated because: I'm short one gift and I have no idea what to get that person.

Grumpy because: Michael is getting a one-hour massage this afternoon. I'm not.

Hate-filled and seething over: The trucker that gave me the finger because I wouldn't let him into the left lane until he put his blinker on.

Indignant because: I have no chocolate and I could really use some.

Just shoot me now because: Kenny G is playing a Christmas song. ("Tell me that part about Kenny G again?"--Name that movie.)

Kidding myself regarding: not spending too much this holiday.

Listening to: Channel 79 on XM radio. All Christmas, all the time.

Mooning over: The Tacori website.

Need: A nap, a grilled cheese and some new shoes. (Yes, need.)

Obsessing over: Finding the perfect chocolate brown crocodile (faux, of course) boots.

Praying: That all the family stuff works itself out.

Questioning: My choice of jacket today.

Reading: Oh how I miss reading. I haven't read for pleasure in forever. So I guess the answer is copy that I'm editing.

Singing: Joy to the World!

Trying: Not to sing too loud at my desk.

Very: Happy I'm going out to lunch.

Wondering: Why Gilmore was a repeat last night.

X-rated action: I just flashed you.

Yawning over: Just yawning. I'm tired!

Zoinks: I have to do some work!

Hard

I feel sick. Someone I love very much is slowly and deliberately throwing their life down the toilet. Not only are they being hurtful and manipulative to the people I care about, they're being extremely self-destructive.

It's so hard. It's so hard to watch this happen and not be able to do anything about it. To see all their potential and talent be pushed aside. For what?

The lies. I'm so tired of the lies. So tired of looking into their eyes and not knowing if their words are true. Having to wonder, how did this happen? Why did this happen?

I want to shake them, slap them, hug them. Anything to save them from this downward spiral.

I feel used. Played. Because I believed them. Wanted to believe that they were giving their real self to me. I was wrong.

I have a pit in my stomach that won't go away. I'm anxious and I don't do well with anxiety. I want this to be better. But will it get better?

It's out of my hands.

And I'm scared.

O Christmas Tree

Like most weekends, this one went by too quickly. Saturday was spent mostly in my pajamas, until it was time to go back to work. But work isn't really work when you're dressed up eating a gourmet meal. To give you an idea of that meal, it consisted of:

Lobster Madeira Vol-Au-Vent

A mixed winter green salad with apples, dried cranberries and spicy pecans in a maple pomegranate vinaigrette

And a Chef's Trio: Petite filet mignon, grilled double lamb chop with a port wine and cherry reduction and wood roasted Alaskan halibut with a shrimp and roasted fennel gratinee.

It's ok. I'd be jealous of my stomach too. I guess if you have to work on a Saturday, that's the way to do it.

Sunday was Fun Day because we finally got the Christmas tree! Michael wasn't into decorating it, but he did put it in the stand which was great because last year I did it myself, was covered in sap and cursing repeatedly. This was much better.

The night was complete with us lying on the couch under the glow of the tree. Me watching Mean Girls, him asleep in my arms.

So good.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

My hands have finally thawed enough to type a post. This morning we gave a press tour that included a lot of in-and-out of buildings. The buildings --glorious heated buildings-- were fantastic. The in-and-out? Horrendous.

Now yes, I am aware that if I had boots, at least my feet would have been a little warmer. But despite the fact that I wore stockings under my pants, a long sleeve shirt, a sweater, a long coat, a scarf, a hat and gloves, I was still freezing. Which makes me wonder...why do I live in New England again? Oh right. The beaches, the seasons, the proximity to my family and that Boy I guess I kind of like.

And really, it's kind of a cool way to spend a Friday. I mean, if you have to work, why not spend it with travel writers from around the country? Especially when you meet people from your home town and people who graduated the same program as you from the same college.

And now back to work. But not until my toes defrost.

Thank goodness for space heaters.

Nonsensical

While laying in bed last night:

Me: Stop it. You're being glib.

Him: "Glib" is not a word.

M: Yes it is!

H: Yeah, just like "glob" is a word.

M: Glob is a word!

H: Ohh look at you, fancy editing lady. I meant like glib, glob.

M: What?

H: Be quiet.

---- Silence ----


M: This is so going in the blog!

H: No it's not!


Haha. I win.

Randomness

* I've had good luck with cops today. I got winked at by a young boy in blue while waiting at a traffic stop and when I made a very quick left turn through a yellow light after getting off the highway a cop was looking in the opposite direction. Phew!

* I love listening to Christmas music to and from work. But Auld Lang Syne always makes me teary for some reason. Doesn't help that my birthday is New Years Eve. I suppose I can always blame it on champagne bubbles.

* I really dislike morning radio. I've been forgoing the iPod for a few weeks now to listen to Christmas music, but it's really not worth it. I'll hear one song and then 10 minutes of DJs babbling on about stupid topics. If I wanted talk-radio, I'd listen to talk-radio. I want music.

I used to listen to one station on the way in to work because my boss was a guest host twice a week. I'd listen specifically so I could come in and discuss the morning topics. (Or make fun of him, because I did that too.) He's not on the air anymore so until the Christmas music started, I didn't really have a reason to listen.

Evening radio is great. Lots of music, few commercials. Whose idea was it to give two annoying people rein of my morning commute? Whose? It wouldn't even be that bad if stations coordinated their commercials. So when one breaks, the other is playing music. But, no. They don't do that. It's like torture.

* So, question: I have a hair appointment coming up right before Christmas. I always tip my stylist well, 20%. But since my appointment is right before the holiday, should I tip her more? Or bring a little gift? What do you suggest?

Booted

It snowed again today. I like snow, (when I'm not driving in it...which I was) and I have lived in the Northeast my whole life. But the thing is, I don't own snow boots. Or cold-weather boots. Or outdoor boots of any kind. So for the first snow yesterday I wore leather boots. With three inch heels. Not the most appropriate footwear, I admit.

This drives Michael nuts. When we met I was an 18 year old college freshman walking around New England wearing sweatshirts in the rain (plus an umbrella!) and sneakers in the snow. After about a year of dating and countless fits of exasperation from him ("You live in New England! You walk to class! You need a raincoat and boots!") he finally convinced me to buy a suitable jacket to wear in the rain. But boots? Not so much.

I know what you're thinking. How can someone who loves shoes so much not own a pair of boots? Well, I own boots. Cute boots. With heels. In lovely shades of blacks and browns. I just can't jump on board with snow boots. I've tried, I really have. I've looked at everything from Uggs to L.L. Bean. They just seem so clunky and unattractive.

This has always been a problem. Back in middle school I used to wear my snow boots to the bus stop and change them as soon as I got on the bus. They'd sit in my locker all day until I put them back on right before getting off the bus in the afternoon. That way it looked like I wore them, just like I was supposed to. (Hi, Mom!)

I realize that it's time to bite the bullet and buy a pair of boots I can wear in the ice and snow. I just don't want to look like I'm a lumberjack or a Muppet with oval feet.

I am open to suggestion. Help me, please.

Let It Snow?

I was so happy to see snow falling this morning. Everything was quiet and the trees sparkled with white. Big, fluffy snow flakes were falling. It's finally winter! Kodiak ran outside and pranced around the yard. He loves the cold. It was very cute.

The magic of the first snow quickly disappeared when I went to start my car. That beautiful snow? The snow that sparkled and came down like soft, white feathers? Was attached to my car in the form of heavy, wet slush. Bleh.

But it still looked pretty. But I guess Connecticut didn't get snow because work is snow-free.

In other news, my puppy is not 100%. Turns out he did hurt his paw. He has to wear a bandage for about six weeks and although it breaks my heart, I think it looks so cute. It's bright yellow and since he's a black dog he looks very trendy. I call it his boo boo bandage, but Michael prefers Workout Band, as it is more manly. And we don't want to give the dog a complex.

Unfortunately, even with all the preventative measures we took, he was diagnosed with Lyme Disease. I know the pain that is Lyme, as I've had it twice. He was prescribed the exact same medication I had to take. My poor puppy.

I guess the paw injury was a blessing in disguise because we caught the Lyme early enough to prevent any damage to his system. He doesn’t even seem to be having an side effects. He’s just happy to be getting extra peanut butter every day. Hides the pills great.

My house is also Christmas-ized with the candles in the windows and a yummy smelling wreath on the door. I’m trying to convince Michael to go and get the tree with me, but he’s resisting until a later date. I will win this battle!

And also, there’s only three weeks till Christmas. I’m almost done shopping, but three weeks! I better get a move on.

Oh Yes It's Ladies' Night

My town has the cutest main street. Lots of little shops and restaurants and it's all decorated with pretty Christmas lights. And tonight they did the most genius thing. They had a Ladies' Night, complete with sales, hors d'oeuvres and free wine at every store. That's right...FREE WINE! Which I happily helped myself to.

Jen and I made the rounds, sampling this cookie and that wine and browsing the stores full of jewelry, gifts and art. I've never seen Main St. so crowded before. This idea definitely worked and I can only hope they do it again every year. It didn't hurt that despite it being the last day of November, it's 60 degrees out.

I did make a purchase...for myself. Even though I thought I might find some cute gifts. But hey, it's Ladies' Night. And I'm a lady...a slightly tipsy lady buzzing on free wine. And I deserve a present.

So Happy Holidays to me!

Poor Puppy

I am not a crazy dog person. I love my dog, but I don't dress him up or carry him around with me all day. Especially since I would need a wheelbarrow to do so. But despite what people might say, he's part of the family. My big furry baby.


I got home late last night and noticed Kodiak was licking his paw. It didn't seem too unusual since he does that occasionally. I put him in his crate and went to bed.


This morning I went downstairs and just like every other morning, I went to let him out. Usually he's up and wagging his tail and will run at me with kisses as soon as I open the crate. Today he was lying down and licking the paw. A lot. I practically had to drag him out of the crate.


I tried to look at his paw in between him nosing my hand out of the way so he could continue licking. I thought it might be his dewclaw, the nail on the side of the paw. It seemed long to me. Could he have caught it on something? Is it stabbing him? My poor dog!


I went upstairs and woke up Michael. The two of us spent the next 15 minutes in our pajamas on the kitchen floor trying to figure out what was wrong. Michael trimmed his nails and we hoped that would fix the problem.


I felt awful. We had failed as parents. We didn't keep up on dog maintenance and now he was hurt. He had big sad eyes and my heart ached. We didn't take care of our dog! What about when we're parents? Are we going to forget something with our babies?


I spent the next 15 minutes petting him and brushing him and telling him he was a good boy. Then he went outside with Michael and from the way he was running around and fetching his ball, it seemed we had fixed the problem. I felt so relieved.


So maybe I am a little crazy about my dog.

Tagged

I don't usually do these, but Domestic Goddess tagged me and she rocks so for her, I will.

Six weird things about you:

1. I'm right handed, but I carry my bag on my left shoulder and hold my cell phone in my left hand.

2. I love to watch operation shows but pass out when I have blood taken.

3. When I was little I used to put baby wipes over the tops of lamps and would melt plastic figurines on light bulbs. This had nothing to do with being a pyro, I just liked the way the wipes and the plastic smelled when they got warm. This didn't last long because my mom caught me and flipped out. Something about how I could burn the house down...

4. Speaking of smells, I also used to love the smell of my mom's deodorant.

5. I love cleaning under my finger nails. There's something really satisfying about it.

6. I think sometimes dinner tastes better if you're eating standing up in the kitchen.

I'm Such A Third Grader

Because I totally spread a rumor faster than you would believe and it's only 10 a.m.

When I was in college sites like Friendster and Facebook became popular. At first it was really cool. You'd become "friends" with someone you know from college or you used to hang out with in high school. You can read their profiles and see what they're up to, look at their pictures and assess the person they're dating. Fun.

And until Myspace came along, it wasn't too stalker-ish. You could only see a profile of someone who chose to be "friends" with you. Now anyone can see what you put out there and it's pretty freaky. Anyway, rambling...

I still like to look at Facebook because you can choose your privacy settings and still see how everyone is doing. So that's what I was doing this morning when I noticed a family friend (background: the girl is the daughter of my aunt's close friend) had changed her relationship status from "single" to "engaged." I was so surprised! So I emailed my dad and asked him if he had heard anything.

Within minutes there were emails from my dad, my aunt and both my cousins.

"I just talked to her mother!" my aunt exclaimed. "All she said is that she had a sore throat!"

The emails came at rapid fire full of speculation and doubt. And maybe because I have a severe case of Wedding Brain, I wanted to think it might actually be true.

So I went right to the source. Because she's in college and I knew she'd be on IM. I signed on and sure enough, there she was.

Her response? (And this is an exact quote) "HAHHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOOOOOO it's not true hahahah that is sooooooooooooooooooo funny though Omg I love you! hahah I am not engaged...I dont even have a boyfriend hahahah."

The writer in me cringed reading this. The punctuation! The capitalization! The....oh, wait. She's not engaged? Time for a little damage control.

Out went another email. This time from me saying oops! Just kidding!

And calmness once again resumed. I better start keeping my mouth shut.

Or my fingers quiet. However you want to look at it.

I Don't Even Want To Look At Turkey

This long weekend was so nice. I spent time with my family, ate lots and lots and lots of food, visited with Dani California and almost completed all my Christmas shopping. It was great.

Getting to NY, however, was not so nice. A trip that should have taken me two hours from work took FOUR. I even left early to prevent getting stuck. But no. I should have known. I-84 is pure hell. I sat in stand-still traffic for almost two hours until I couldn't take it anymore. After getting alternate directions from my mom I got off the highway, drove 10 minutes...and got stuck behind an accident. At this point my blood was boiling. I was tired, I was hungry and my butt hurt from sitting so long. I said, the hell with it, I was two exits away from where I needed to be. I'd just get back on the highway and deal with it.

So that's what I did. And wouldn't you know that not five minutes later the traffic broke and I was on my way. The cause of the traffic? NOTHING!!!! No accident, no exit, no merge. Nothing. I hate I-84.

As for shopping, I got gifts for Michael's mother, the children she's fostering, my aunt and gifts for Michael to give to people. I even got something for me. I've wanted a reed diffuser forever but couldn't find one. I thought it would be so nice for my desk at work. And this weekend Pier 1 was having a big sale and had them! Yay! And I bought new pillows for the couch because I am oh so domestic.

All and all a great weekend. And it was so nice to come home to Michael and the big dog yesterday. Kodiak nearly knocked me over with kisses when I came in the door. So cute! And Michael was full of I love you's and hugs and kisses and I know he missed me.

And now that Thanksgiving is over it is officially time for Christmas music, candles in the windows and a wreath on the door.

I love the holidays.

Rambling Because It Feels Like A Friday

In less than three hours I will begin my trip home to NY. I'm crossing my fingers that by taking a half-day and leaving way before rush hour I will not get stuck in boat loads (car loads?) of traffic.

I'm really looking forward to the trip. I don't get to see my family often and I miss them a lot. My mom has lots of Hawaii pictures to show me, my sister has a new hair color every time I come home (I think it's dark blue this time) and it's THANKSGIVING which means one of my favorite foods of all time: stuffing. In abundance. All weekend. The gym and I will reconnect after Sunday.

I'll also get to visit with some high school friends that I haven't seen in forever. There are the select few that I'm really excited about seeing but then there are those random people that you know you will run into at the bar and the general feeling is eh. The ones that no matter how many years it's been since you walked those halls together still ask you what your high school boyfriend is up to (no clue) or if you remember that time so and so said so and so and it was SO FUNNY! (Um, no, sorry. I don't recall that.)

Michael and I have spent the last four Christmases together but we've always split up Thanksgiving. It's easier with work schedules and then his mother doesn't feel slighted. (If we don't travel we spend Christmas with my family.) I will miss him lots and lots but then it will be so nice to see him again on Sunday.

Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving and think of me when you eat lots and lots of stuffing.

One Time Deal

For the first time ever I'm taking down a post. The last one I wrote. Because once again I was complaining about not being engaged and you know what? That's enough.

At least it's enough for this week. Because I'm sure I'll complain about it again. Even though I'm going to try really hard not to. But the whole post was about it. The. Whole. Thing.

Because the thing is, I don't want to be the girl that whines and asks over and over again "when are you going to marry me???" That's not who I am. That's not who I want to become. And I don't want Michael to propose just to get me to shut up!

I'm not going to pretend and promise that it won't come up in posts again. Because it will. Because it's on my mind A LOT and that's what this blog is for. Plus, Clink and I have to stick together now that Ms. Sass is going to be Mrs. Sass! (Congrats again!) And it's fun to be impatient with Clink. She gets it.

So, again. Enough for whining for this week.

All in due time. Right?

Shades Of Red And Green

And no, I'm not talking about Christmas.

I'm angry. I'm not only angry, I'm flabbergasted. Somebody stole my lunch. Stole my lunch right out of the fridge at a professional business where adults work.

Stole. My. Lunch.

And the thing is, it's not an isolated incident. Stuff has been stolen out of our fridge before. I just can't understand why anyone would go into an office that doesn't belong to them and steal someone's lunch. Specifically, MY LUNCH.

And I'm hungry. And fuming. And...HUNGRY.

Secondly, I'm jealous. I'm jealous because a girl I know (who let me say is a really big sweetheart and deserves this happiness a ton) just got engaged to a guy she's been dating for a year and a half. I'm happy for her in the sense that she is in love and will be getting married but jealous that I've been with Michael and in love for almost five years and want this more than anything.

This Monday is definitely not starting the week off right.

I Survived

I survived IKEA. And thank you for all the tips because I really did eat the granola bar and drink my bottled water. And broke out the one pair of non-gym sneakers I own. (Cute little red ones that Michael calls wrestling shoes, if you were curious.)

As we approached IKEA I was still undaunted. Sure, it was big, but we snagged a parking space easily and headed towards the Returns entrance. Once inside, my friend returned a rug quickly and smoothly and we were off to the main entrance.

Here's where it starts to get complicated.

The airport-like signs direct you to two different locations: Showroom and Marketplace. Where to start? Look, all those people are getting in the elevator. We'll get in it too. DING! Ooooh look! The Showroom! With every available room set up you could imagine. Bathrooms, full kitchens, bedrooms, offices! But wait, how come I can't go over to that bedroom? I can see it...I. Just. Can't. Get. There.

No. You have to stay on The Path. The Path that winds around and around and around and AROUND until you've seen every single set up in the showroom. It's a great marketing plan. It's a pain in the ass. I looked longingly at the exit doors that warn you ALARM WILL SOUND. It's all a ploy. I bet the alarm wouldn't sound. They just want to scare you so you'll stay on The Path. It worked.

Oh, did I mention we had also already grabbed a cart? Yeah. We did. So we pushed it, empty, around and around and around....

We finally made it to the end, hopped on the elevator and arrived at the Marketplace. I was tempted to buy a lot more than I did. After looking at every imaginable piece of glassware, kitchen gadgets and storage containers, we made it to the rugs. This was the real reason for the trip and I'm not kidding when I say we spent almost 45 minutes in this section alone.

While looking at rugs there was an odd woman who appeared to be following us wherever we went. She even made a comment that she wasn't following us, which makes it even more evident that she was. And she was following us holding this in the air and saying out loud that one was more yellow than the other and it was probably because the sheep rolled in something. Great.

Overall, the IKEA trip was successful, albeit a little overwhelming. And that granola bar tasted great between Lighting and Home Decor.

What did I buy? I bought a Marienta Ruta, a Signe and an Alvine Satin. That's two rugs for the kitchen and a duvet cover, respectively. I didn't eat any Swedish meatballs, but the cinnamon buns did smell tasty.

Truth be told, I don't think I'll be going back any time soon. I needed a nap when it was over!

In Which I Say "Meatballs"...Twice

I woke up this morning to a text saying that Christmas music was on the radio. (Thanks, Jen!) I know it's a cliche, but this really is my favorite time of year. There's something about Thanksgiving through New Years that's so warm and cozy and happy. I love it.

So despite the fact that it's 60 degrees out, I listened to Christmas music the whole ride to work and now have it playing at my desk. Yay! Michael (a.k.a. Scrooge) will cringe when he reads this. He doesn't want to hear Christmas music until the week of Christmas, and even then he thinks it's too much. Too bad he lives with me!

I've already bopped around my desk to Mariah ("All I want for Christmas is yoouuuuu!") and am currently being serenaded by Frosty the Snowman. Love it!

On to some randomness, because really, it's Friday.

I confessed to Michael that I look at wedding stuff and that I might possibly (i.e. absolutely) have found the place for a reception. As in, I started drooling all over myself when I found it. And we could afford it! And...hi, I'm not even engaged.

His response? He wasn't surprised. Or freaked out. He laughed...and then smiled. He's so cute.

I really pushed myself at the gym last night (yes, I did go!) and as a result I am not wearing heels today. Legs = ow. But a good ow.

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow I am going to Ikea. IKEA! The magical store that goes on forever and has stemware, couches, beds and meatballs! Couches and meatballs! In the same store! Oh those crazy Scandinavians!

I've been given some tips to survive my first experience within the window-less blue box. Bring a granola bar. Follow the signs. Charge your cell before leaving and always have a buddy. With these tips I'm sure popping my Ikea cherry will be a fun adventure. Details to follow.

Happy Friday!

"Siillllleeeent Niiight. Hooooooly Niiiight..."

I Hate It When He's Right

My plan was to go to the gym last night. But when I got home we had nothing for dinner so we had to go grocery shopping. You know how I feel about grocery shopping.

But Michael was home so he came with me and his company makes the experience tolerable. So we're in the store, adding things to the cart that we really don't need, (salsa flavored tortilla chips?) and it was getting late.

I made a reference to this as we were standing in the frozen foods aisle and suggested that I might just go to the gym in the morning.

This is where Michael started laughing.

"No you won't!"

"I will too! I'm motivated!"

[Laughing] "Who are you kidding. The alarm will go off and you will roll over and go back to sleep. I know you!"

This is where I began huffing and puffing and pouting. I almost stomped my feet. I am not above doing that in the middle of the grocery store. I was furious! Oh ye of little faith! I'll show him.

"I will go in the morning. I bet you. How much you wanna bet?"

"900 dollars."

"You're on!"

I was so mad at him. How could he doubt me? I made a commitment to myself to go to the gym at least three times a week. I was going in the morning. What was his problem? I was mad at him the whole way home, while I was putting away groceries and as I prepared dinner. I was right, he was wrong.

The end.

P.S. Anyone got 900 bucks I can borrow?

I Believe...

- in the power of black eye liner, great jeans and killer heels.

- in always having a box on instant pudding in the cabinet. Because there's always room for J-E-L-L-O.

- there's something magical in the quiet of a snow storm.

- in sometimes having a good cry.

- that everyone should own a big down comforter.

- (I love) when the song you're listening too ends just as you pull into the driveway.

- that the ocean, sunrises, mountain tops and babies' smiles prove there is a something greater than us.

- that love is the answer.

Have I Mentioned I Hate Bad Drivers?

I was still in my post-adolescent funk last night when I started the drive home from work. It was dark. It was raining, but not that hard. Not hard enough to justify the driving that I encountered the whole way home.

First there was the Creepy Crawly.

The driver that inches their way along the road at least five miles under the speed limit. Their wipers are on top speed (even though it's just a step above drizzling) and if you're close enough, you might be able to make out the top of clear plastic bonnet covering white hair.

Next came Big Truck You Cannot See Around. (BTYCSA)

BTYCSA drives in the left lane. He usually has some large equipment in his cab or things tied down under a tarp. He's going a mile or two under the speed limit but remains in the left lane. He also stays right next to the person in the right lane so there is no chance of getting around either of them. His massive size will not allow you too see around him or through his wind shied, so you have no idea what's going on in front of him. And he kicks up so much dirt and water that you have to use your wipers even though it's not raining that hard.

Then there was He Who Does Not Know Blinker Is On.

Blinker Boy will put on his blinker and get in the lane next to you. He will then continue to drive for miles with it on...blink, blink, blink. Is he turning? Is he going to cut me off unexpectedly? Does he hear the incessant BLINK, BLINK, BLINK?

And finally, my least favorite encounter of the evening: Mrs. Mini Van.

I HATE MINI VANS. I have never come across a person driving a mini van that was a good driver. They usually fall into one of two extremes:

One: They are so slow. There is a gaggle of children inside, toys are being thrown, stickers are all over the windows and they are just basically in your way.

Two: They are maniacs. They have a soccer ball decal on their back window, a "My Child Is A (insert school here) Honor Roll Student!" bumper sticker, they're talking on their cell phone and they are FLYING. I cannot tell you how many times I've been tailgated by a mini van only to have them soar by me going 80.

Put this all together over the course of a 40 minute commute and you have me gripping the steering wheel and taking deep breaths.

I better not encounter this again tonight. I spent an hour in the gym releasing my road rage last night and I'm too sore to go back today.

So I Guess This Is Growing Up

It was really nice to have Boobeski come visit. The minute she walked in the door it was like we were right back at 38 BP. After catching up we immediately started reminiscing about the beginning of our friendship. There were a lot of "I can't believe I did that" moments followed by lots of laughter. How is it possible that we've been friends for almost six years?

As promised, the evening included good food and good drinks with Michael and his friend from work. The four of us laughed and talked (I'd like to say late into the evening...but it wasn't really that late. We were tired...we work now!) and had a really nice time.

The next day we went shopping. And while I didn't buy any shoes, (I know, I'm shocked too) I left with a nice assortment of...work clothes.

Work clothes? What's happening to me? When did deciding what to wear to work become more important than finding a cute top to go with those great jeans? When did I start putting the fabulous coat back on the hanger because I should really use that money for Christmas presents? How did professionalism, practicalism and fiscal savviness creep into my life without me knowing it? And why is it showing its ugly face while I'm shopping?!

Sure, I'm not old. My boss will read this and say, "you're so 23." But to me, this is change.

Last night I took a late night run to CVS. Late night errands always remind me of college...Wendy's, Dunkin', Cumberland Farms...and I was feeling nostalgic for my friends.

I went in and headed for the sign marked Hosiery. I inwardly groaned as I walked down the aisle. Hosiery. Hosiery? Hosiery! I haven't worn stockings since, I don't know, middle school? OK, maybe not that long ago but I really couldn't remember the last time. I don't wear stockings. Grown ups wear stockings. I am not a grown up.

But despite what Glamour says, I cannot get away with bare legs all winter at work. I'm fair skinned. We're talking super-light. Bare legs + winter = legs look like a cadaver. Let's not even go there. Plus, I'm always cold. If I want to continue to wear adorable skirts and dresses, stockings must make an appearance.

So there I am, standing in front of rows and rows of various colors of hosiery and completely stumped. What do I buy? What is the difference between Off Black, Soft Black and Black Mist? It look me 15 minutes to pick out two pairs. Fifteen minutes. Seriously.

So here I am, pondering where my adolescence went and wearing my stockings and crossing my fingers that I don't put a run in them.

I can totally see a quarter-life crisis in my future.

Friday Ramblings

I am so ready for the weekend. It's been one of those weeks where I feel so disconnected from myself...like I'm functioning and going about my daily business but not really here. Does that make any sense? No? I guess a simpler way to say it is I feel really out of it.

Aside from the fact that I have a ton to do this afternoon and no real time to do it and I still haven't cleaned the house even though Boobeski is coming tonight, I think it will be a good weekend.

And despite the small fortune I spent on my hair last night, the weekend will be filled with good company, good food, good drink and outlet shopping. Discounted shoes? YES.

And my hair? I can't stop touching it. Because it's so soft and smells like deliciously expensive hair products that I won't buy for myself.

And this post? Are you bored out of your skull from reading it?

Workin' It (At Work...Not On The Streets)

I came into work early because I have to leave early today. Do you know how strange an office is a half hour before everyone comes in? It's eerily quiet...no computers running, no printers going, no yelling from room to room. (What, people don't yell in your office?)

I kind of enjoyed the quiet. Not so much that I would want to work in a quiet office, though. Because my office has character. And chocolate. And hardwood floors. And....chocolate.

So today has the potential to be a pretty good day. I'm having lunch with a friend, the intern might not wear her overly strong perfume (fingers crossed) and it won't be completely dark out when I leave. Not like last night when Rt. 1 was a freaking death trap. And later this evening is my much needed hair appointment (roots=bad) which was delayed a week because of the dinner. I love the tag line for SunSilk. "Get hairapy." So true.

In exciting news that has nothing to do with me? Daily Editor might be getting engaged soon!!!! So excited for you, girlie. You know there's a bunch of us green with envy right now. Her boy basically confirmed he is ring shopping. (Or has ring-shopped already!) Yay!

And shout-out to the male reader who felt neglected when I thanked all the ladies. Thanks for reading, man. How about a little male perspective?

In other news, Boobeski is coming to visit tomorrow. Which means massive amounts of house cleaning tonight. Damn you, Boobs.

(It will be interesting to see how many people end up here through a Google search of "damn boobs." Ha!)

Surprise

When I started this blog I did it mostly as an outlet for my writing, my thoughts, etc. I didn't really think people would start reading it.

But people are reading it. And what's come of it is this amazing network of women who *shock* are going through really similar things.

Whether it be agonizing over when we will get engaged, complaining that we are bloated, hungry and bitchy or relishing in a new pair of shoes, these women are right in step with me.

So that's pretty cool. Especially during this whole future (near future????? Please???) mother in law thing...I couldn't have asked for better support.

Thank you ladies, you know who you are.

Randomness

* I'm still fuming over the relationship with Michael's mom. I don't know why it's getting to me so much. I'm almost at the point where I want to sit down with her or write her a letter...anything to get my feelings across. Because right now I feel like she's taking advantage of the fact I haven't said anything to her.

The last few dinners with her? Awful. And at her birthday I really feel she took advantage of having an audience to be even more standoff-ish to me. Like she's saying, "Look, I told you she's not good enough."

And I've really had it up to here with the conservative, close minded statements. Yes, I'm liberal. Deal with it. Newsflash: liberal does not equal devil. It's not like I'm chained to a tree, burning my bra, making out with a woman all while aborting my unborn baby just because I can.

Sorry. That was a bit much. But you get my point.

And if I was really so awful, why would her intelligent, ADULT son be with me???

Thoughts, anyone?

*My first story is being published through work. I'm really excited about it because I worked really hard on it and it means that, oh yeah, I have a real job and I actually do something. The only downside is for whatever reason I won't be credited for it. At least not this time. No, it's not the New York Times, but I'm still disappointed. It's nice to see your name under your work.

*My mother is currently in the air flying to Hawaii for a week. I am not. You can see how happy I am about this.

*After tonight there will be no more political commercials. I cannot wait. If I have to see one more "the many hats of Chaffee" commercial I will scream.

*16 days till Thanksgiving! Yum!

Wake Up Call

How do you perceive things?

How To Annoy Me

This past weekend was spent in Vermont with Michael and the dog. It was so nice to nap on the couch, walk in the crisp mountain air and not answer the phone. I even got to indulge in maple sugar candies which are soooo good.

But four hours in the car each way did not make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved the time with Michael. Actually, driving with him is something I really enjoy. But when faced with a four hour trip, there is bound to be some mishaps along the way.

On the way to VT we hit traffic in Massachusetts. Some type of bridge work that really should have been done in the middle of the night, not on a Saturday afternoon. Really.

The main reason for the holdup was that two lanes had to merge into one. There was a big orange sign that said "RIGHT LANE ENDS ONE MILE" that most people took to mean the right lane was ending.

But not all people.

No. Not Ms. Mini-van. (Have I ever written about how much I hate mini-vans? No? Remind me to.) Ms. Mini-van was so concerned about getting ahead just a few more feet that she would speed up in the right lane and try to pass all of those (specifically us) who had followed the sign and gotten in the left lane. Luckily for us, the guy in front of us wasn't having it either. He straddled the middle line just enough so she couldn't pass him and we stayed right behind him so she couldn't get in front of us.

But she wouldn't let up. There she was, right next to me rolling her eyes and getting agitated. And I had enough. My window was down. I turned around. I may have thrown my hands in the air. And said "you're going to get in an accident! Get over it and get behind us!"

Another eye roll, but she got behind us. Michael was surprised at my passenger-seat road rage. But HONESTLY. Some people.

On the way home we hit traffic again. This time it appeared to be for no reason, until....Oh. I-84. How I loathe you 84. The worst leg of the trip when I head home to NY and here it is again, dumping traffic onto 90 when all I want to do is get home!

We decided this would be a good time for a pee and snack break so we pulled off into a rest area. You know, a fancy one, with a McDonalds and a Papa Johns. And an Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Like I said, fancy.

We parted towards our respective bathrooms. I waited for a stall and when one of the doors opened, the girl coming out looked and me and kept on going. So I went in. And saw that she hadn't flushed. What? Ew. What is wrong with people?

I wasn't about to wait again so I flushed it for her as I pressed myself against the door willing her excrements to stay in the bowl and away from me. When I was done I went out to wash my hands.

Sink #1, no soap. Sink #2, no soap. Sinks 3, 4, AND 5....NO SOAP! Sink #6 finally had soap and it was the icky rest stop smelling soap. You know, the pink kind.

Michael was waiting for me when I came out and we were hungry so we decided to get a pretzel. Well apparently they don't make the parmesan anymore (the best kind) so I settled for a regular and he chose a cinnamon sugar.

"We only have one regular right now, but we have an almond one," said the cashier.

"That's it?" Michael asked.

"We're making more now," she replied. "They'll be ready in about seven minutes."

I'd be damned if we were going to stay in that rest stop for another seven minutes.

"We'll take the regular," Michael said.

Can I just tell you that the regular was dinky and unsatisfying. What ever happened to big, doughy pretzels?

The rest of the trip was uneventful. The dog made up for lost time in his yard by running around and barking at the sky. I made dinner and we settled in for some Sunday night TV.

A great weekend. Minus the traffic.

And the pretzel.

Just. Breathe.

Last night left me completely emotionally exhausted. Do you know how hard it is to keep your mouth shut when you disagree so vehemently with the conversation going on around you but you know that saying something will just make it worse?

Back to that in a minute.

Dinner went basically exactly as I anticipated. Michael's mom thanked him very sincerely for the card both of us wrote in.

She shared a look (you know the kind) with her friend across the table when Michael's grandmother made a reference to our first Christmas tree.

She snapped at me for my choice of outerwear:

Me: Brrr, it got cold out!

Her: Well, Molly. Maybe if you were wearing a proper jacket, you wouldn't be so cold. I mean, really. It's not that cold out.

Me: I came directly from work. This jacket was just fine this afternoon.

Her: Well, it's not really worth complaining about, is it?

Right. Silly me. What was I thinking--rushing home from work to attend your birthday because 6 o'clock (rather than 6:30) is really better for you--and not bringing a suitable jacket for the drop in temperature that was bound to happen in the two hours we were in the restaurant??

Oh, the conversation that left me wanting to just die?

The nicest way to put it is that it was very, very, very close minded and bigoted. And I had already used my bathroom break escape to avoid an earlier conversation so I couldn't leave the table again without looking like I had a serious bladder problem.

I love Michael. I really, really, really, really do.

And now I completely understand why he doesn't like to go to his mother's for dinner.

Matriarchal Mess

Today is one of those days. You know the kind I mean. It's rainy, it's cold. Your bed was so warm and getting out of it was soooo hard.

It's that kind of day.

Coupled by the fact that I feel crampy and bloated and just want to eat chocolate all day. Which I will. Go ahead, judge me.

And, to top it off, tonight we are going out for Michael's mom's birthday.

This isn't all bad. The food will be good. His grandmother will be there and she loves me.

However, his mom? Doesn't love me so much. Sure, she's kind. She'll give me a hug and thank me for coming. But that's where it will end. The rest of the evening she will barely talk to me because her Son is there and that is the most important thing.

And no one is good enough for her Son. No. One.

Except maybe the daughter of a minister. Which I am definitely not.

Why does this bother me so much? Michael and I are happy together. I shouldn't worry about conquering the impossible task of getting his mom to love me. Isn't it true for all moms? There's no woman good enough for their boy?

Both his grandmothers love me. They even ask I call them Grandma. His dad liked me. His siblings like me. WHY DOES THIS BOTHER ME?

Oh, well. I guess it's just something I'm going to have to live with. I'm definitely having a glass of wine tonight.

She'll hate that.

Better Than Last Year

Last year was our first year in the house and I was really excited to have trick-or-treaters. Being way past the age of actually trick-or-treating myself, and not yet with a child of my own to take out, I was really looking forward to being the nice neighbor handing out treats.

I went out and bought bags of candy and sat down in the living room anticipating the doorbell ringing all night.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And not once did the doorbell ring. No scary ghosts. No pretty ballerinas. No Spidermen.

Zip. Zero. Notta.

I was so disappointed.

So this year I thought, why bother? If no one is going to come I am not going to bring bags of chocolate (mmmmmm chocolate) into this house for no reason!

But I thought about it. And thought about it. And I knew that if I didn't get any candy then the doorbell wouldn't stop ringing.

I stopped at CVS on my way home from work and stood...on... line... with all the other people buying last minute candy.

I pulled into the driveway, unlocked the door, said hi to the dog and...

DING DONG!!!!!

A trick-or-treater!!!!!!!!!

A little boy named Noah dressed as a soldier was my very first trick-or-treater. He was followed by....

Three more.

OK. So it's not what I had imagined. But all four kids were excited to get candy from my house and now they'll come back next year.

Good enough for me.

Happy Halloween!

In honor of Halloween, I thought I'd share a little bit of my Halloween history. For your viewing pleasure, a look back at me and Dani...because it's just too funny!

Here we are as a witch and a.....I don't know if we ever figured out exactly what Dani was. A weird, Halloween thing. Actually, a few years later we both went as a weird Halloween thing. But she pioneered it this year.

As usual, all you can see in this picture is my huge mouth and non-existent eyes. And no, the hair is not real. Although after ringing the doorbell at one house some woman started stroking my head and asking if the hair was mine!







Here we are as Dionne and Amber from Clueless. This photo was taken exactly 10 years ago today. Don't you just love the tan colored stockings? What you can't see is the super trendy clear plastic platform Jellies we were wearing. What I remember most vividly from that night was stepping into a giant puddle and having wet and steamy plastic Jellies for the rest of the night. Ewww.

Haha, oh man. Miss you Dani!

Happy Halloween!

Seeing Stars

Last month I wrote about my adventure on the sailboat. This included a good half hour of sea sickness that was just awful.

It's not just boats that make me queasy. Cars do it to. If I'm in the passenger seat, there is a good chance I'll be nauseous by the end of the trip.

And today I learned of another place that makes me feel dizzy and nauseous and gross.

The planetarium.

"What? The planetarium? You're weird."

I know! But apparently it's true. While I sat there trying to enjoy Orion's Belt and the Big Dipper and the North Star all I could think was "where's the barf bag?"

Totally uncool, people. And I was staring at the horizon! (Well, the horizon being where the dome meets the wall, but it's supposed to represent the horizon....) Isn't that supposed to help?

I mean, honestly. This is just too ridiculous to be justified in any way.

Hi, I'm Molly. Planetariums make me sick.

A Hairy Situation

Women don't have it easy. When it comes to the bathroom, that is. Here's the thing. We were not born with an extra appendage. In all other life situations I am quite happy to be sporting a va-jing and not walking around with something wagging between my legs.

But when it comes to the bathroom, particularly a public bathroom, well, guys just have it made.

All the ladies reading are quite familiar with the process. You go into the public bathroom and assess the situation. You feel slightly deflated because even if the seat looks clean, there is no way you're going to sit on it. So you squat. Which is why we all have super-strong thighs. Because we have no choice.

Now let's get to the real issue at hand. The work bathroom. This is one of the bathrooms that I don't feel all that uncomfortable letting go of the bathroom issues and actually sitting. Because it's not really a public bathroom. There's maximum 10 people who use it and seven of them are women. It gets cleaned every day. It's pretty much safe.

HOWEVER.

I just went in there and staring up at me, a dark gash against the stark white porcelain, was a hair. One loan hair

"AH!" I thought. "Ahhhhh!!!!"

Because a hair? In the bathroom? On the toilet? Ew, ew, ew, ew.

As I balled up the TP to swipe it into the bowl I tried to tell myself whatever I could to make myself feel better about The Hair.

"It's from someone's head/arm/leg....nose! It's got to be."

But you know it wasn't from someone's head/arm/leg or nose. And I know it too.

Sigh.

Useless And In My Way, But Here To Stay

There are some things in my house that when purchased, seemed like a really good idea. However, the more I think about it, I realize that these things are just....there.

For example:

Potato Masher- I probably make mashed potatoes twice a year. Maybe three times. And the masher? Awkward shape. Takes up room in the drawer. Makes me irritated when drawer won't close.

Candle Centerpiece for Dining Room Table - looks really pretty. Has been lit once. To see how it would look. Candles collect dust. Makes Molly mad.

Extra Large Space Saver Bag - great in theory, but the bag is HUGE. I don't have enough stuff to put in it to suck out all the air with the vacuum and store it under the bed. (I've done this with three or four Large bags...very fun

Super On Sale 20 Rolls of Our Favorite Toilet Paper - great money wise, not so great when the bathroom cabinet is thisbig and has to store everything else. I must say, I'm pretty proud of my TP stacking skills.

Ottoman- I still have hopes for this one. It's cute. It's functional. It matches the living room color scheme perfectly. It gets used as a giant coaster. Which. Drives. Me. Crazy.

Giant Mop - I (thankfully) cannot take credit for this one. When Michael was away for a month for work (bad, bad, evil away. Stupid work.) his grandmother stopped by one day unannounced. I hadn't vacuumed yet and she not-so-subtly told me that I needed to do something about the dog hair. (Hi, 120 lb black dog that blows his coat in the summer? You try keeping up with all the hair. It will kill you.) Her solution? A giant mop. No, not a Swisher that picks up dirt and hair and dust with static electricity. A mop. As in...mop. Yeah, the kind you put in a bucket. With water. And soap. How this was supposed to pick up dog hair, I did not know. But I tried it (dry) and I tried it (wet) and know what? It doesn't work. It's just a big ol' mop. That now resides in the hall closet just being a mop. Mopping around. Mop, mop, mop.

Also, for some reason, in the short time we've lived together we've somehow collected enough blankets and comforters to swaddle 3 million babies. (OK, maybe just 2 million.) There are only two of us sleeping there. And we use one giant, deliciously fluffy and warm down comforter. The guest room also has its own comforter. But the other 999,998 blankets...they've taken residence in the guest room. Where they will continue to live until I can figure out what to do with them.

The Extra Large Space Saver Bag, you say? Now, I've thought of that. But even the XL can only hold a few...and it's not really worth it to me.

Actually, I wonder if it could hold shoes.....

Sheltered

Elementary schools in Wyoming, Washington and Massachusetts have banned tag from recess. According to one principal, recess is "a time when accidents can happen."

Tag? Really? What about gym class? Isn't that "a time when accidents can happen"? I remember being hit with one or two dodge balls. My sister broke her arm running relays on wet grass, per the teacher's instructions. How many kids walk away with a black eye from softball? So based on this logic, shouldn't gym be banned too? And what about riding bikes? Or jumping rope? Or climbing the monkey bars? Because, people, these are times when accidents can happen!

I just don't understand why kids have to be so sheltered these days. We were all exposed to the same stuff. We're basically all OK. And those who aren't OK, can you really blame it on tag?

I used to work at a daycare. We'd play our games and sing our songs, but when it came to singing "There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed A Fly," well, forget it.

You know the words: "There was an old lady who swallowed a fly/I don't know why she swallowed a fly/perhaps she'll die.....there was a old lady who swallowed a horse. She died, of course!"

Well, we were instructed to change to words. To "perhaps she'll cry." Because oh no, don't let children hear the word "die". No, no. They'll have nightmares. They'll be scarred for life!

But let me just tell you, it's really a life lesson. Because if you swallowed a horse to catch the dog to catch the cat to catch the bird to catch the spider...the wriggled and wriggled and jiggled inside her....to catch the fly. Well kiddos, you'd probably die. That's what happens when you swallow foreign objects.

And what about Looney Tunes? Remember the great Saturday morning cartoons that we watched and our parents watched? Oh no. Not now. Too violent. I mean, kids might actually drop anvils on their friend's heads. And dropping anvils on people is wrong.

But Bratz, where cartoon tweens walk around in skanky outfits and babies are wearing high heels and makeup?

Well, that's OK. As long as they're not playing tag.

Swish

When I was little I used walk around our property collecting the long, brown pine needles that fell off the trees. I would wrap them in a leaf and tie them with a long piece of grass. Then I'd go in the back yard and scatter them, pretending I was feeding chickens.

That's a great childhood memory for me. As soon as I smell that warm pine scent I'm transported to that time.

So imagine how happy I was to pull into the parking lot at work the other day and see those very needles all over the ground. I opened my door and took a deep breath, inhaling that yummy smell.

But imagine my disappointment/frustration/annoyance when I came back to my car at 5 p.m. only to find that it was the ONLY ONE in the lot completely covered in pine needles. Completely. As in, my car was now brown. And spiky. And....needle-y.

And it had just rained. So those suckers weren't going anywhere.

I cleared off my windshield as best I could and started the ride home. But the roads were wet so I had to intermittently use my wipers. And one lone needle was stuck on the driver side wiper.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle getting bigger.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle IN MY WAY.

It held on the whole way home until I pulled it off in the driveway. Maybe it's life's way of telling me I'm grown up. As a child I only saw the good things in life. Now some of those good things can be a really big pain in the butt.

I miss feeding those imaginary chickens.

We're So Related

The conversation I had with my sister last night was classic Us. It went something like this....

Sister: I really hate those commercials for the pads with the wipe attached.

Me: Yeah, they're kind of gross, but I guess it's a good idea.

S: I guess, but they're all, "Hi, I'm dirty. I need a wipe."

M: Ha. Ew.

S: At least the Summer's Eve commercials are more vague. They're more "Feel Fresh!" You don't know, they could be talking about your feet.

This was followed by a very serious discussion on ice cream.

S: I don't like mint chocolate chip ice cream. But I feel like I should. It's kind of the way I feel about pickles and Shakespeare.

M: -------

S: Every time I get a pickle with a sandwich I take a bite hoping hoping I will like it. But I don't. So I take another bite because I think that if I keep eating it I will eventually like it. But I don't really like that bite either. So I finish the pickle because I must like it if I eat the whole thing. But in the end, I still don't like it.

M: But pickles are a food and a drink in one!

S: That is so disgusting.

M: It's a quote from Friends.

S: Of course it is.

M: And Shakespeare?

S: Oh, I just don't like Shakespeare

M: Right.....

Seriously, could we be any more related? (Catch the Chandler reference? Oh, yeah.)

Realizations

I'm not feeling especially creative today, but instead of not posting at all, here you go:

It has come to my attention that there are some things I'm just never going to be able to do. This list includes:

- balancing my checkbook, thanks to the wonderful world of debit cards

- washing the dishes right after dinner

- putting my bag anywhere but the kitchen counter

- folding a fitted sheet (I just CAN'T DO IT. Michael does it perfectly. How??)

- not watching romantic comedies with sappy endings

- washing my car

- following politics, even though I know I should

There are, however, some things I'm pretty good at. For example:

- walking in heels

- folding towels (that's right, my towels look fabulous)

- memorizing quotes from Friends

- updating my blog (you're welcome)

- recapping exactly what happened on Gilmore Girls

I know. The important things in life.

**UPDATE**

Because my mother thinks I sound vapid, I must clarify. I do follow my banking, just online. I check my bank statement. I know how much money I have and where it's going. Also, I know what's going on in the world. I watch the news, I read the paper. I know about who I vote for and why. I just don't find politics all that interesting. OK?

Recap

Well, the weekend was fantastic. The food was delicious (mmmm lobster), the drinks were wonderful (ahhhh sangria), and the company was better than I could have asked for. But what I realized is that I'm not 21 anymore. Apparently 23 is old because it's Monday morning and I already need a nap! A non-stop weekend is so much fun, but it really takes a toll on you.

Anyway, some highlights:

MoElle was reunited. My face hurt all weekend from laughing.

Ashley was there! And she lives in my town! So there will be more Ashley! Yay

A non-highlight? How about our dinner Saturday night. 45 minutes to get our meals. And our waitress? The one with pigtail braids and and knee high tights? She was SITTING IN THE KITCHEN DOING NOTHING. Hi, I could see you, Pipi. And when we finally asked the manager about it? "Well, the grill is backed up."

Oh. The grill. Is backed up. OK?

The rest of Saturday was great. Dancing, dancing, dancing! But people, I have to tell you, that

THIS:



Quite possibly the scariest thing I have ever seen. That's right, she has climbed him like a ladder. He is trying not to fall over. I wish I could sure you how she was molesting the floor (numerous times during the night) and other patrons of the bar, but this is not that kind of website

And now some rules for all the men that frequent these establishments:

1. We do not want your business all up in our business. Your crotch is not welcome near our fronts, our backs or our sides. In fact, your crotch in not welcome in a 10-foot radius around us.

2. When you enter said radius with said crotch and attempt to bump and grind on my friend, I will grab her and start dancing with her elsewhere. This is not an invitation for you to join. This is especially not an invitation for you to aim your crotch at me. WE DO NOT LIKE YOUR CROTCH.

3. Pinching my butt when I am taking a picture is not OK. I do not know you. I do not want to know you. My butt is not for you to pinch. You are banished to outside the radius as well.

Learn these rules and a woman might actually dance with you!

So all in all, a great weekend. Too much money was spent, not enough sleep was had, and it was fantastic.

I can't wait to do it again.

Yaaay!!!

Today is a fabulous day because it marks the start of what is going to be a fabulous weekend! It's homecoming at the ol' alma matter. I have no intention of going to the game, but what a great excuse for a gathering of the alumni and current ladies of Zeta Epsilon Tau Alpha! I am so freaking excited.

But most of all....the best part? ELLE IS COMING TODAY!!!! (That's right, as in one-half of the infamous MoElle.)We've been talking about it all week. We're slightly obsessed with each other.

And the other good part? The Brian is coming into town! Two of my favorite people in one weekend? This is just too good to be true.

For your viewing pleasure, a look at the hotness that is Moelle and The Brian (and Boobeski!!! Miss you Boobs!)


We were being soap opera stars. Couldn't you tell? Of course Elle is a skinny-minny now (even though I think she looks tres cute in that picture) and I no longer have all that hair.

Here we are looking all cute again the end of senior year. I love us.

See you Monday!

In the Mood for Some Randomness? Yeah, You Are.

*I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person, nor will I ever be a morning person. If left to sleep in I usually wake up around 8:30 anyway. Not wasting any precious time, people.

I can do the whole get-up-for-work thing. Somehow I actually manage to get everything done in an hour and out the door on time. But today? Today was not a usual day. Today was Get To Work An Hour Early Day for an all-staff meeting. Yaaaay.

Let me just tell you, even showering and making my lunch the night before did not make getting up an hour earlier any easier. Because, did you know it's DARK at 6 a.m.? And cold? And I had to wake the dog up because even HE was still sleeping!! Um, yeah. The only time I see 6 a.m. is when I open my eyes and groggily look and the clock and think "mmm, one more hour," before zonking back out. One hour apparently makes a huge difference. And three cups of caffeinated tea? Only makes you pee. A lot. So now I'm tired. And a little cranky. So I will complain to you.

*My boss is taping a segment on the Montel Williams Show today. (About our place of business, not because he's someone's baby's daddy. Well, he is...but he's, like, married to her and stuff....)
Did you know that show was still on? It is. In all it's glory. Yesterday we spent some time deciding what he should wear to the taping. He decided on a shirt and tie and looked very presentable and camera-ready.

But if I were on the Montel Show? I'd totally go Lycra jumpsuit. Way more appropriate for when I confront the audience members.

"Shut yo mouth! You don't even know me! I look good! I look good! Look at you! You don't even know me!"

OK....so that's more Jenny Jones. Or Ricki Lake. (Ricki! Ricki! Ricki!) Where did all the good TV go?

* I had to pick a speaker up at the airport the other day. While I was waiting for him an old man in full lederhosen walked by me. Then he stopped. And turned around. And hit on me. An old man. In LEDERHOSEN.

Better watch out, Michael.

Sappy Sappy

For those of you who make fun of me for being a total love-nut, you might want to stop reading. I'm warning you. Total mush ahead.

Michael and I had a fight last night. Actually, I guess it's not really a fight because I was the one who was upset and he wasn't really saying anything. I don't know what you would call it. We'll just leave it at I was upset.

After he fell asleep, I lay awake for almost two hours thinking about the upset-ness and realized that whatever the problem is, we can get through it. I know I've said it before, but I'm one lucky girl. Yes, I love the big romantic stuff that comes along every now and then, but it's really all the little things that he does daily that let me know how much he loves me. For example:

He came home from the grocery store with dinner and some other things we needed. Then he pulled out one container of perfectly ripe raspberries. I love raspberries, but I hardly ever buy them because they are so expensive for such a little bit of fruit. But Michael bought them. For me. Because he knows I love them.

And he brought home a slice of key-lime pie because I mentioned I wanted some over two weeks ago. Yum.

He worries about my car. He remembers the oil changes, new wipers, etc. when I don't. He looked all over the place to find a replacement tail light. He's even spontaneously washed my car (probably because he's tired of looking at the dirt) numerous times.

He shovels the snow because I hate shoveling snow. He also scoops the dog poop, kills the bugs, and smells things in the fridge for me.

He lets me lie on the big couch while he sits on the love seat, even though he's 6'4" and bought the couch because it's big enough for him to lie on.

When he works early in the morning he always fixes the blanket and tucks the big, fluffy comforter around me and kisses me goodbye. Even though I'm half asleep, the gesture means a lot.

The list goes on. Sure, he puts glasses on the ottoman, leaving ring marks, leaves socks on the floor and dishes thisclose to but not in the dishwasher. (Preparation for a house full of boys, he tells me.)

But when he cleans my hair out of the drain or picks up the mail I left on the counter for the umpteenth time, I know he loves me.

And I love him, too.

I Said "Ketchup Only!"

Freaking Panera Bread.

Every time I go there they get my order wrong. Every. Single. Time. Someone please explain to me what is so difficult about NO ONIONS on a sandwich.

I know she heard me. I placed my order and she nodded while repeating "no onions." What the hell.

At least this time it was easily fixable. I begrudgingly pulled the onions off. I've been there before when they just botch the entire sandwich leaving no resemblance to what I originally ordered. And it's not even just one store. I've been to one in a different part of the state that does the exact same thing.

I'm not picky. I just like things the way I like things. The blog title is in reference to a late night Wendy's run in college where I very specifically ordered ketchup only on my cheeseburger. You can guess how that turned out.

I can't say I'll just stop going, because I won't. The food is good.

Is it too much to ask to have it be right?

Tick, Tick, Tick

This face makes me want to be a mom.

Manda, she's beautiful!

Choices, Choices

I hate getting food from a place where the menu is up on the wall and you have to wait in line to order. It's not the waiting in line that bothers me. It's the ordering.

Looming in front of you is this giant board with hundreds (OK, maybe tens) of choices. And if this isn't an establishment you frequent often, you're going to need a minute (or five) to figure out what you want.

The problem is that the staff never gives you that minute. As soon as you walk in it's all "Can I help you?" or "What can I get for you?" Never "Just give me a holler when you're ready!" or something to that effect.

So here you are, sweating bullets as five staff members stare at you, willing you to make a decision NOW and you're all flustered because you don't know what you want and WHY ARE YOU PRESSURING ME?!!!!

And THEN, when you've made up your mind and are ready to enjoy your delicious breakfast sandwich/doughnut/ice cream cone.....there's no one to help you.

Where did they go? Where are the five eager faces ready to help assemble the breakfast sandwich, bag the doughnut or scoop the ice cream? Gone. Busy with the family of six, cleaning the tables, refilling the napkin holders.

So you wait. And you look at the menu. And now maybe you want that ice cream instead because you really like chocolate chunks and this one promises lots of chunks and.....

"Can I help you?????"

And the cycle continues.

Pink!

It's October and that means it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Go Pink to raise awareness and support the fighters and survivors and help raise money to find a cure.

Go here daily and click to fund free mammograms.

I love you Mom!

Atonement

I'm not Jewish (although someone would argue I am) but today is Yom Kippur. And I think everyone should have a day to atone their sins. So here we go

Michael, I'm sorry I took the last granola bar this morning. I knew you wanted it, but I really wanted it. So I grabbed it before you went to the cabinet.

Old Friend, I'm sorry I've been ignoring your phone calls lately. It's just that you've been so negative lately and you get bitchy when you hear I'm happy.

Mom, I'm sorry I don't come home more. I really love to be home, but I hate the drive. And life gets in the way. I miss you.

Shay, I'm sorry I told you we found you in a field. And I'm sorry I talk to you like a parent sometimes. It's just that I love you so much and I worry about you.

People I make fun of in my blog, I'm sorry if I offend you. But you make for really good material.

Teenage girls at the movie theater, I'm sorry I went "New York" on you a few weeks ago. But you were cutting a long line of people. And if I have to stand behind old-guy-with-gross-gray-greasy-ponytail, you have to too.

Woman that I avoided calling back until the last possible minute because, really, I heard you the first time when you said, "Well, I'm a writer. This is important.," well, I'm really not too sorry about that.

Kodiak, I'm sorry I didn't take you out to pee the other morning. I thought Michael had before he left for work and I took your whining to be you were in an annoying mood. I'm sorry you didn't pee for over 12 hours. I felt like such a bad parent but you were a good boy and didn't pee in the house. Thanks for that.

Ladies of 38 BP, I'm sorry I don't call you as much as I should. I miss you all so much, I'm just bad with the phone.

Spiders on the living room wall, I'm sorry I vacuumed you up. I try to be kind to all nature, but well, you're spiders.

Boss man, I'm sorry I make fun of your taste in music. But hey, you make fun of me too. We're even.

Michael, I'm sorry I left the laundry in the dryer for three days and then got mad that you didn't take it out. You didn't know it was in there because I forgot to tell you. Actually, I don't think you even knew I was mad.

Ok. I feel better.

Shuffle

Put your iPod on shuffle. Write about the what the songs remind you of. (I've done this before, but it's cool to see what comes up.)

Everytime- Britney Spears: First of all, yeah, I know. Britney Spears. But for some reason I like this song. When I used to work at the beach we'd have the radio on 92.3 all day and would count how many times this song would come on during an 8-hour day. A lot. Like 12 times or something like that. Actually, it's a wonder I still like this song

Breathe-Telepopmusik: That car commercial where they're all dancing around robotic-like and that one girl has a cool hat. Mitsubishi? I can't remember. This song is a really good car song on a rainy day

Two Step (Live)- Dave Matthews Band: My favorite version of this song. Probably the first DMB song I ever loved and always will.

We Trying To Stay Alive-Wyclef Jean & Refugees: Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion! They do this stupid dance in the club and it always makes me laugh.

Push-Matchbox 20: My very fist concert ever. It was at the Poughkeepsie Civic Center and I wore a yellow, blue and white striped tank top. There were so many people and I remember at the end of the night I figured that half the sweat on me wasn't mine. Ew. I also caught the guitarist's pick until some big ugly girl grabbed it out of my hand. Abby jumped on her back and started yelling at her, but the pick got lost on the floor.

Perfect Blue Buildings-Counting Crows: When Michael and I first started talking we would send each other music we liked. I had always liked Counting Crows but usually skipped over this song for some reason. I really listened to it the night he sent it to me and loved it. Makes me think of him

Return to Innocence-Enigma: Remember the CD that was always for sale on TV? Pure Moods? They would play this in the background. And P.S. I think Michelle owns this!

*Big surprise: spell check doesn't recognize Poughkeepsie.

Morning Thoughts

*Every day on my way to work I pass the same car. A white Intrepid with four bumper stickers: 94 HJY, B101 and two Sushi Go stickers.

He's usually driving about five miles slower than me and we usually glance at each other as I pass him. One co-commuter to the next.

Today, however, things were a little different. As I merged onto Rt. 1 I saw a car quickly approaching in my rear view mirror. Suddenly, Mr. Bumper Sticker flew by me, looking directly at me as he did. I was so surprised! Was he late? Did he see it was me and decided today would be the day he was the faster car? Was this an invitation to rumble?

Ten minutes later I strolled on by him, as he had slowed down to his usual speed. I don't get it.

*I also passed a school bus with tinted windows. Tinted Windows! When did school buses get pimped out?

I heard that Snoop Dog coaches some youth football league and pimped out their bus like no other. Speakers in the seats, flat screen TVs. Maybe the Westerly School District is taking cues from the Dog himself. What's next? Gin and juice boxes?

A Day Of Practice...But Not That Much Fun

So newsflash: I survived the dentist. And big surprise, it wasn't such a big deal after all. I really have to work on this anxiety thing. It blows.

I arrived 15 minutes early. I was nervous. Really nervous. I looked around for a magazine but the selection was sub-par. Parenting or Seventeen? Seventeen it is.

"Guest Editor Hillary Duff!!!!" Ooooh boy. This should keep my mind off the dreaded needle for a few seconds. It didn't. I couldn't focus on Hillary's blinding smile, let alone remember if leopard print leggings meant your personality is "eclectic" or "wild."

So minus the details of filling my cavity....I made it. Yes, the hygienist had to hold my hands. But I'm ok with that.

When I got home Michael was just getting ready to go try out the sailboat for the first time. Did I want to come? Sure did! Visions of us sailing, wind blowing my hair as he took control of the sails all manly-like flashed before my eyes. How romantic! How exciting! How...New England!

Yeah. It didn't quite go exactly like that.

Let me just say that I know nothing about sailing. Michael was eager to teach me...and he was doing a really good job. He was patient and understanding when I was obviously not steering the boat into the wind like he asked me to. But in his quest to teach me all about sailing, he thought it best to use the correct terminology.

"Wrap the line around that cleat!"

"She's got [I can't remember the number] pounds of ballast." (Or something like that

Huh? Cleat? Like on shoes? Shoes I know. If he was shouting out "Stiletto!" or "Kitten heal!" or "T-Strap!" I'd be great. Of course, he was not. He might as well been speaking another language.

And did you know sailboats lean really far over when they sail? I did not know that.

And then it hit me. A sudden wave of nausea that left me dry heaving over the side of the boat. Greeeeaaaat. Sea sickness. Mom was right. I should have taken Dramamine. Lesson learned.

Eventually, the nausea passed, the boat was pointed into the wind and I looked up at my handsome Boy standing tall in his sailboat, his hair blowing in the wind.

It really wasn't so bad after all. In fact, I kind of loved it.