These Little Moments

Moving On Up

2007-03-29T20:38:00.000-04:00

I've been playing with a new design for awhile and have decided to go in favor of some cleaner lines and a new space.

You can visit me at my new home: http://theselittlemoments.wordpress.com/

Please update your blogrolls and keep reading. I love having you!

Can't I Have It Both Ways?

2007-03-29T11:26:00.000-04:00

While rushing to get to an early staff meeting, I encountered the daily challenge of crossing the street across from my office. Sure, there's a crosswalk, but people don't stop. Even when I do my patented death stare and disappointed head shake at them.

A car on the opposite side stopped to let me go, but one look up the street told me I better wait, because the car on my side was flying. So there I am, giving the aforementioned death stare, when the car screeches to a halt. As I start to cross the street both the driver-side and passenger windows roll down and two guys lean out. I make the mistake of turning to look at them as I cross and am met with a "yeah, baby!" and some cat calls.

I am instantly pissed. It's 8 a.m. I am on my way to a very long staff meeting and I am tired. The last thing I want to deal with is obnoxious comments from some unidentified men.

As they drive off and I begin my walk down the street, a smile forces its way across my face. I am wearing the pants that make my butt look cute and my legs look super long. I do have on adorable stilettos that may make me strut just a little.

Then I get pissed at myself because what, now I like the attention?

Guess I can't have it both ways!

Irked

2007-03-28T12:35:00.000-04:00

Dear Fergie Ferg,

Thank you for doing such a service to our nation's youth. Without you, "Delicious" and "Glamorous" would always be misspelled. I'd like to add "Tasty" to that list, but unfortunately, you spell it wrong. Newsflash: there is no "E" in Tasty.

Sincerely yours,

Molly

It's OK

2007-03-27T13:45:00.000-04:00

I've decided that it's OK...

- to not like wheat bread. I know it's healthy, but you know what? I get more than enough of the good-for-you stuff. I want my sandwich on a non-wheat roll. Preferably a hard roll.

- to worry that my feet will grow when I have kids (it happened to my mom) and I won't fit in any of my beautiful shoes anymore. (Although, what a great excuse for a shoe shopping spree!)

- to own a Celine Dion greatest hits CD. What?

- to not answer the phone sometimes. Caller ID is a wonderful thing.

- to have conversations with the dog. He might not talk back, but he's a great listener.

- to wish that My So-Called Life was still on TV. Even just in syndication.

- to enjoy it when Michael works on a Friday evening. Bad TV + a new magazine + no one to tell me the show sucks = sweet.

- to tell myself repeatedly that muscle weighs more than fat.

"Welcome To The Real World She Said To Me"

2007-03-26T13:08:00.000-04:00

On Friday night I attended my sister's orchestra concert. The show was great. And predictable. Like every Pops Concert before, the show ended with all three orchestras performing Stars and Stripes Forever. And just like every Pops Concert I had played in, as the last section of the song began, in full FORTE, they dropped the American flag. So patriotic.

I knew it was coming. Every year as I stood in the orchestra pit playing those very notes, I couldn't look at my friend Abby without laughing. Laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it. At the audience clapping along, goofy grins plastered on their faces. It was always a riot.

As I sat there watching my sister and laughing to myself, I realized how weird it was to be on the other side. Watching, not playing. That was me up there from fourth grade till graduation. Hours of practice, countless concerts and one amazing trip to Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti and the South Pacific. And for the first time in a long time, I longed to play in a group again.

Afterwards, we all filed into Cafeteria A for cookies and juice. As we pushed through the double doors I felt like John Mayer should be playing in the background. It was all so familiar to be back there, but also so strange.

Had it really been only seven years since I last walked those halls?

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Want. Chocolate.

2007-03-23T12:03:00.000-04:00

I'm hormonal this week. The good thing is I did the shopping before in preparation because I knew if I went this week, I would return with Entenmann's chocolate covered donuts probably crunchy Cheese Doodles. Because those are my two weaknesses this time each month. So while it's a good thing that I didn't buy them, I'm not going to lie. I'm craving them big time.

But my hormones did get the best of me last night. I cried during the news. There was a piece about soldiers going off to war and leaving their families. It was so sad to watch them kiss their husbands/wives/fiances/significant others goodbye while tears streamed down their faces. I was seriously moved, but was holding it together. Until Michael looked over at me and said, "I love you, baby."

Then I lost it.

So really, it's his fault.

I'm heading home to New York this afternoon to see my family. I'm really looking forward to it.

Have a great weekend!

Just What I Needed

2007-03-22T14:04:00.001-04:00

Remember when I talked about how glorious it would be to work from home? I was right. My boss, being the awesome boss he is, suggested that since I was going to spend the majority of my day writing my magazine pieces, if I felt like working from home today he'd be OK with that.

I felt like it.

Especially after our big move yesterday, I could use a little time away from the desk. And today has been every bit as wonderful as I thought it would be. I woke up at 7 as usual, showered and made myself look pretty. I've been in this state for awhile and there's one thing I still hadn't done. Gotten my Rhode Island license. So after primping and straightening my hair, I was off to the DMV. I was out of there pretty quickly (shock) with my new (temporary paper) license in hand. All that primping was a waste of time. The picture ain't that great. Of course.

A part of me was sad to hand over my New York license. No matter how long I live here, I will always consider myself a New Yorker. It's who I am. It's why I pronounce dog "daawg" and coffee "cawffee", why I throw my hands up in irritation and bad drivers "what are you DOing??" and refuse to eat my sandwich on a bulkie roll. That's what they call a roll in Rhode Island. I don't want a bulkie roll. I want a HARD roll. (Side note: when I first went to college I ordered a sandwich on a hard roll in the dining hall. The woman looked at me and said, "Oh no, dear. Our bread is fresh." Um...right.)

Afterwards, I dropped off my car for an oil change like a responsible adult. A responsible adult who may or may not have waited almost 6,000 miles for an oil change. I know, I know. I was back home by 9:30 and with my grande soy chai latte by my side, and was ready to work.

And work I did. I had a phone interview with a hilarious woman for a piece I'm writing and by the end of the conversation I kind of wanted to be her friend. That's weird, right? I couldn't help it, she was awesome. And she works from home as a freelance writer. And is having a baby. And is funny. She should blog.

I just finished the piece. I had so much information and I thought I would never pull it together. But I did...and I like it! Maybe it's because it's on one of my favorite topics: Weddings.

Which brings me to now. I'm thinking lunch since it's after two and I haven't snacked all day! Another plus! Then it's one more piece to write.

I know this won't be an all the time thing, but if I could do this, even once in awhile, I'd be really happy. I'm actually looking forward to going in to work tomorrow since today has been productive while also relaxing.

Awesome.

Still Here

2007-03-21T14:49:00.000-04:00

I'm still here. I'm not sure if you missed me or not, but since I post every weekday perhaps someone thought it odd that it's been almost two days since you heard from me.

Yesterday we packed up our office. Today we moved.

I'm not too happy about it.

My old office was great. Hardwood floors, my own little space with a window that overlooked the street (allowing me to spy on who came in late, who went to lunch with whom and what everyone was wearing,) and sun. Glorious morning sun that heated the chilly room and wonderful afternoon sun that made the space cheery and inviting.

My new office is neither cheery nor inviting. There is no morning sun to warm the chill. As a matter of fact, the room is freezing. Turns out there is some afternoon sun which is the silver lining in an otherwise gray situation. There are no hardwood floors (although perhaps they're under the carpet?) and we're right across from the bathroom.

My boss (who shares an office with me) came up with a slogan for the day: "From the penthouse to the outhouse." Basically, we got shafted. And while I'm trying to make the best of it, I'm not dealing entirely well yet. My life report card would say, "Molly plays well with others, but needs improvement accepting change."

So, yeah. Freaking A, this sucks.

I'm going to go hang a poster or something. Maybe that will help.

Beginnings

2007-03-19T15:42:00.000-04:00

Later this week we're moving offices. We've all been moving things around, sorting through files and throwing out unwanted stuff. Through the course of the move some interesting stuff has been found, including the cover letter I wrote just about a year ago.

In my opinion, it's pure cheese. Because, in all honesty, I quoted Forrest Gump.

Now, let me explain. My boss has a great sense of humor. In fact, a sense of humor was a requirement in the job description. As well as a love of chocolate. Hence, "life is like a box of chocolates." Yes. I really wrote that in my cover letter.

But you know what? I got the job.

I remember my first interview really well. I desperately wanted to sound upbeat and confident about what I could do. I was praying that despite being right out of college with absolutely no experience in PR, I would be given a chance. I remember thinking I made a big mistake when my now boss said, "well, I'm not really a big fan of Forrest Gump..."

Shit. Oh shit.

"But," OH! There's a but!

"I liked your cover letter. I can tell you can write." Phew.

When that cover letter surfaced last week I was surprised. I hadn't thought about it in so long. And then my boss began to read it. Out loud. In front of people.

I was so embarrassed. I could feel my face getting hot and all of the sudden I was the color of a tomato. It may have gotten me the job, but it's definitely not one of my finest pieces of writing.

As we pack up for the move and I go through my work from just a year ago, I can see a change. I've gotten better. Besides learning the PR ropes, my writing, both professionally and personally, has improved. I'd like to think I've come pretty far since that cover letter.

And that makes me feel pretty good.

Stay At Home Me

2007-03-16T12:32:00.000-04:00

I woke up this morning to snow. Lots of snowing covering the yard, the deck and the cars, but not so much on the street. But since I had obsessively checked the weather reports yesterday I knew that the worst of the storm is due this afternoon. I hate driving in snow and wanted to avoid getting stuck in something yucky all together. So I'm working from home today. And I'm really glad I did as my street is now icy and white.

I told my boss I could really get used to this working at home thing. Editing while in bed while What Not To Wear plays in the background? Yes, please. I actually saw a story on the news last night about companies that are allowing employees to pick not only their own hours, but the location from which they work. If they want to work from the office, the work from the office. If a coffee shop, kitchen, or, like me, snuggled under the comforter in their queen-sized bed is more their scene, then so be it. The argument was that by incorporating your job into the environment that makes you happy, you'll actually be more productive.

I can't exactly test this theory today because two thing I need to do I can't access. But I definitely see the logic in it. And today only reiterates what I've always know. Eventually, I will work mostly from home. I lucked out with my current job because the office is a fairly relaxed, non-cubical environment. But a lot of offices aren't. And I don't want to end up in an office like that.

Can I make a living as a stay at home writer? I don't know. I would really love to one day. Truth be told, at this point I'm not confident enough to find out. Being only two years out of college I feel I need more experience in the working world before I take a step back from it.

Right now I'm happy. Happy with my job, happy with where I am in my life.

And today I'm especially happy, because I'm still in bed.

That Was Way Harsh, Tai

2007-03-15T13:01:00.000-04:00

The other day I stumbled across this blog. Basically, people submit their blogs for "review" by three women who proceed to rip them apart. I find this blog absolutely atrocious. These women are catty and bitchy and seem to have started a blog as an excuse to be just that. Since people (mostly women) are voluntarily submitting their blogs, the women can justify tearing them apart. And from reading their reviews it seems to me that since their own writing is just sub-par, they pick on others to feel better about themselves. So those who can't write...critique? Where is the logic in that?

Lately I've been really annoyed with the blogging community. When did it get so mean? The attack on Clink the other day and the bitchiness I referred to on Tuesday really surprise me. I don't find this stuff on men's blogs. Why are women so mean to each other? It's really sad that we have to break others down to feel better about ourselves.

Ugh, it's like a virtual high school.

Oh Baby, Baby

2007-03-14T14:24:00.000-04:00

I want a baby. Not like, right this minute, but one day. Actually, I want two. Or three. But probably two. Over the last year or so my desire to be a mother has intensified. I'll see a tiny dress in Marshalls and imagine dressing my own daughter in it. Or I'll notice a baby-sized ball cap and picture it on the peach fuzz covered head of my baby boy. And the shoes! Oh the shoes! Itty bitty packages of cuteness.

Maybe it's because most of our couple friends are having babies. Or my time spent working in a daycare allowed for hours of chubby cheek kissing. Or the fact that I feel even more in love with Michael than I did five years ago and the visions of our future are feeling more like a reality and less like a dream.

I realize it's not entirely realistic for me to be pining for a baby of my own. There's that whole getting married thing. And the fact I'm not exactly ready for the life change that comes with having a child. I like my mid-week martini dates, weekends out and the freedom to come and go as I please.

For now.

But someday. Who knows, in three of four years I could be a mom.

That's completely terrifying and absolutely amazing at the same time.

The Glamorous

2007-03-13T12:36:00.000-04:00

There's a blog I read sometimes. I don't read it everyday, I don't link to it and I've never commented on it. It's because I don't like the author. She's a snob.

Then why read it? I don't know, I think it's because being a mean girl is interesting. It's like those girls in high school you didn't like but secretly wanted to be friends with. I don't want to develop a blog-relationship with this woman, but I am sometimes curious about what she's up to. Even though I find myself rolling my eyes at her posts, shaking my head or even voicing the occasional "what a bitch!"

She's the skinny girl who knows she's skinny but complains about being fat so someone will tell her she's not. She's the girl at the bar batting her eyelashes, sticking out her cleavage and fake laughing to get a guy's interest, only to toss her hair in his face and move on the minute he buys her a drink. You know they type I'm talking about. She may come across as pretty, but her insides are ugly. And although I've never seen her, I know this is true. Because like all of us who blog, she puts herself, her insides, out there for us to read. And I assure you, it's far from pretty.
I wonder if beneath the Prada covered exterior this woman has true friends. Friends that will remain true despite her designer bags, rich husband and big house.

I might not have all those things, but I have a life filled with friendship and love.

And I wouldn't trade that for anything.

** I've had some requests to share the URL for the blog, but I've decided not to. I'm probably just paranoid but oh well. I'll tell you this much, the writing isn't that good and the woman appears to actually be just an aging bitch who now is married with children. Sorry to disappoint, but you're not missing much.

Tales From The Gym

2007-03-12T13:24:00.000-04:00

My favorite elliptical was open. I did a brief scan of the surrounding area as I approached, noticing the woman to the left and the empty machine to the right. I put down my water bottle and iPod and left to get a magazine. When I returned the woman was at a moderate jog, alternately pushing her arms out in some slow tai-bo type move. I didn't really get it, but who am I to judge? (HA!)

I started running, when BAM! It hit me. B.O. My nostrils went into panic mode. B.O.? Not B.O.! Now yes, I know, I'm at the gym. Where people sweat. Including myself. But B.O.? I am deeply offended by B.O. (See here and here.) The smell was getting worse and I glanced over at the woman, now rapidly tai-boing, allowing for her armpits to be exposed and slowly kill me with their toxic emissions.

I thought it would be rude to stop working out suddenly and change machines so I stayed. I'm not sure why I did, why I was afraid of hurting this woman's feelings. I tried breathing through just my mouth, but that just made me thirsty. So I sucked it up.

And then, when I thought it couldn't possibly be worse, an older man began his workout on the machine to my right. The machine facing the opposite direction from mine so his rear is near my front.

And ripped a deadly fart.

Life Furnishings

2007-03-11T23:55:00.000-04:00

In just two hours we managed to spend enough money to cover a mortgage payment. Today I bought a laptop, the most expensive thing I've ever bought and my first real big girl purchase. We also bought a whole new set of very non-office looking office furniture. We will probably weep when the credit card bill comes.

This is my first laptop and I'm enthralled with all it's fancy features. Seventeen inch screen? Droooool. Michael and I are already arguing over who gets to use it. The novelty of using it on the couch, in the kitchen, lying in bed, hell, even on the toilet if I really wanted to, is not wearing off. This is great!

But the coolest part? All the shopping, for us, for our home, felt just right.

Perfect, actually.

It Is Friday, Right?

2007-03-09T11:21:00.000-05:00

Fridays are supposed to be a good days. I can wear jeans, the weekend is rapidly approaching (and Michael is off!) and everyone is more relaxed. Like most nine to fivers, I appreciate Fridays. But so far, today hasn't been all that great.

Someone cut the line at Starbucks. I was waiting patiently for my soy chai latte, standing third in line during the early morning rush. All of the sudden this woman came barreling through the doors, walked right up to the counter and slapped down a list. Anyone who knows me would tell you that usually, this would not fly. I would be the first person to call this woman out and remind her that there are people waiting in line. That were here BEFORE her. I went to elementary school. I know what happens to cutters. Cutters go to the back of the line.

But today I just didn't have it in me. I was too tired to make a scene in the busy Starbucks. So I let it go. No one else said anything, but there was some definite eye rolling.

All was basically forgotten with the first sip of my chai, until I walked into my building. Skunked. Again. Do you know how disgusting it is to work with the smell of skunk permeating your nostrils all day? Awful.

Which brings me to now. I'm hoping that lunch with coworkers will turn the day around. I'm also looking forward to dinner out in Newport tonight with Michael and another couple. This is huge because all of our couple friends? Are having babies. And that means very few get togethers. And when there are get togethers talk centers around, you guessed, the baby.

Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy for these friends. But the thought of a glass of wine and Thai food with a recently married, baby-free couple is looking really good right now.

I Didn't Sign Up For Gymboree

2007-03-08T10:51:00.000-05:00

I took a risk by going directly to the gym from work. It's really hit or miss-- sometimes it's packed with the highly motivated after work crowd and other times it's almost empty. Unfortunately, last night it was busy. But I was lucky to score an elliptical and since I had forgotten my earphones for my iPod, (I know, I can manage to bring all my work out clothes and sneakers and the actually iPod to work but forget the earphones...) I grabbed an easy to read while you're running Star Magazine.

The good thing about my gym is that they have lots of new equipment and the price is right. The bad thing is that they also have a basketball court and after school activities that attract kids. Mostly kids between the ages of eight and 15. And I guess because they think it's cool they come into the gym when they're finished. Maybe it's because I'm usually plugged into my iPod, but I never really noticed them until last night. This time I couldn't miss them.

First there were the two girls on ellipticals. They must have been around 14 and after a few minutes one became bored. "Mia! Mia! Miiiiia! MIA!" I turned my head to see one of the girls yelling to the other, who couldn't hear her because she was smart enough to remember her earphones. Probably because she was well aware that her gym partner was the type of girl that frantically waved her hand in the air, "ooh, ooh, oohing" whenever the teacher asked a question. So annoying.

"MIA!!! I'm BORED!" Seriously, I almost threw my water bottle at her. Finally Mia heard her and lifted one earphone long enough to tell her friend to find another machine if she was so bored. Go Mia!

With 10 minutes left to go on the machine I spotted Gold Digger on a bike. Oh no! I had to get to the weights before he did. The image of is finger lost inside his navel cavity began to haunt me. No, no, no! Look away!

I looked ahead and noticed a woman with a girl who could not have been more than eight. The little girl was on the treadmill and the woman was encouraging her to run. The girl was only a little heavy and I felt bad for her. Wouldn't it be better for someone of her age to take dance classes or play soccer or even take walks with her mom? Must she already be told that she's heavy and be put in a gym?

I headed over to the weight machines and was bombarded by a group of twelve-year old boys. I know they were twelve because one of them was talking about his last birthday. These scrawny little boys in their over sized basketball shorts with their hair spike just so, jumped from machine to machine, acting tough and grunting as they moved the weights. It took all I had not to crash into them as they rapidly switched places with each other.

I finished up and realized how tired I was. I know you're supposed to be physically tired after working out, but mentally? No.

Damn kids.

Trigger

2007-03-07T14:42:00.000-05:00

I listened to the self-titled Third Eye Blind CD on my way into work. (Yes Michael, you can have it back and yes, it was in a case and no, it's not scratched.) I know the words to every song. It was the CD I played on repeat in my CD walkman during a trip to the Jersey Shore. It was the CD I bought for all my friend's birthdays and the CD that makes me think of overnight bus rides during my trip to Australia.

The trip down memory lane got me thinking about other music that represents a certain time for me. There was Green Day's Dookie, the first CD I ever bought myself in sixth grade. This followed the first ever bought for me, TLC's Waterfalls, but we don't need to talk about that.

Eighth grade brought Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill, for when I was angry or just felt like being moody. This was followed by the girl-power anthems of Meredith Brook's Bitch single (we changed to words for a summer camp song..."I think farm's cool, you grow vegetables, and when they're grown you eeeeaaat them!") and I was a Wannabe for the Spice Girls. Marcy Playground's Sex and Candy, Semisonic's Feeling Strangely Fine and Savage Garden (another one we can forget) were all played at top volume as I danced around my bedroom.

Papa Roach, Limp Bizkit and Jay-Z's Vol 2...Hard Knock Life corresponded with wanting to break up with my boyfriend and spread my wings.

I bought Dave Matthews Band Crash because a boy I liked was a big fan. I could never get into it and packed it away for years until I met Michael, also a DMB lover. Since then I've really grown to like them on my own. I guess it took meeting the right boy.

Speaking of the right boy, Counting Crows' August and Everything After is the CD I associate with Michael. Always one of my favorites, it became the soundtrack to the long drives and talks into the wee hours of the morning that our relationship was built upon.

I love how music can trigger memories.

Bet you have Meredith Brooks stuck in your head now, don't you?

Is It Summer Yet?

2007-03-06T12:42:00.000-05:00

I need a change. I'm in a rut. Maybe it's because Mother Nature is making one last attempt to prove it's winter that I want to get the hell out of here. I want to lie on a beach with a drink in my hand and the sun beating down on me. I want to float in and out of sleep to the sound of waves crashing. I want to go dancing. I want to eat Mexican food washed down by a cold Corona. I want to wake up to the sun streaming through my window instead of an alarm rudely beeping.

I need to be refreshed. I'm going through the motions...wake up, work, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat.

I want to drive with my windows down, wear sundresses and open-toed shoes. I want green grass and flowers and frozen lemonade. I want to drive past the sea wall and eat ice cream cones before they melt. I want fireworks. I want dinners outside and citronella candles. I want white capris with strappy sandals, bonfires and bar-b-qs.

Wake up, work, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat.

I want to go on evening walks with Michael, go out on the sailboat and eat corn on the cob. I want daiquiris, margaritas and mojitos, big sunglasses and naturally highlighted hair. I want fresh fruit and swimming pools, freckles and tan lines. I want sand in between my toes, coconut scented sunscreen and evenings warm enough for shorts but cool enough to wear a hoodie.

Wake up, work, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat.

How much longer till summer?

Literal Translation

2007-03-05T11:26:00.000-05:00

When I first started this blog I wrote a post about the meaning of the title. And while I feel as though most of the time my posts accurately reflect it, sometimes they tend to stray. But today, in literal translation of the meaning, These Little Moments have made up my life recently:

- I went out to lunch with my boss on Thursday. During our conversation I mentioned that I had been exhausted lately and didn't know why. With a raised eyebrow, my soon-to-be father for the second time boss asked, "are you pregnant?" WHAT? NO! I'm adamant about taking the required measures (at the same time, everyday, since I was 16) to prevent that from happening. No!

Later that afternoon I was feeling so nauseous that I took the next day off. The rational part of me knew that I had come down with the bug that was circulating through the office. The irrational part of me freaked out for a good two minutes. Am I pregnant? I can't be pregnant. Could I be pregnant? Damn you, boss!

No worries. It was just the bug. Of course.

- We went to dinner at his mother's house yesterday. I am always anticipating the worst but it wasn't that bad. She always invites other people and counting us there were 11. Of course her table isn't meant to sit 11 so I got to straddle the leg of the table and eat on an angle. She was nice and even gave me my favorite Easter candy (solid chocolate mini-Cadbury eggs with a hard candy coating...drool....) But I knew there had to be something.

Turns out it was one of the guest's birthday. I've had dinner with this woman at least 20 times now, but didn't know it was her birthday. If I had, I would have brought a small gift or flowers and a least a card from me and Michael. But his mother hadn't mentioned it on the phone so we had no idea.

After dessert, the guest was presented with gifts. On the card from his mother read "blah, blah, blah, Happy Birthday! Love, The Mother, the foster children, Michael and the dog." My name was not included. My name was conveniently left off, but THE DOG was thoughtfully included.

The other adult guest had also brought a gift so it appeared as though I was the only one who didn't bring one.

ARGHHH!!!!

- Yesterday I was doing my usual weekend house cleaning and had finished just about all the chores I wanted to do. I was about to walk out of the kitchen when I noticed a few dishes in the sink that could be washed. I reached inside the blender with the sponge and "OW! Damn it!!" I dropped the sponge and cursed as I realized I had stabbed my finger with the blender blade. I wrapped my finger in a paper towel and sat on the couch with my arm above my head. That's what you're supposed to do, elevate. Right? I sat there for a few minutes looking ridiculous and feeling sorry for myself because, OW, and then decided to yell for Michael to come downstairs. He did, asked if I was OK and asked if he could do anything.

Well, no, actually. I just wanted acknowledgement of my boo boo.

"Do you want a kiss?" he asked.

Yes! He makes things better.

My finger still really hurts though.

Feel sorry for me, I think that will help.

A Post With Little Purpose

2007-03-02T11:35:00.000-05:00

I stayed home from work today. A combination of being overwhelmingly tired and slightly nauseous (no, I'm NOT pregnant) made staying in bed very appealing. Also, it's pouring. Buckets and buckets of cats and dogs. So I feel I made the right decision.

Our yard borders a river. Most days it's very peaceful and pretty to look at and Kodiak enjoys barking at the geese and ducks that like to float with the current. Today, however, the river is in our yard, making it soggy, muddy, squishy and overall gross. I would take a picture to show you what it looks like to have a river instead of a backyard, but that would involve going outside and that's not going to happen.

Even the dog won't go outside, minus once this morning to pee. And then he left a trail of muddy footprints through the kitchen and do you know how much fun it is to lift up the feet of a Newfoundland to wipe their paws? He's 120 lbs, I'll let you figure it out.

I'm off to shower. Nope, haven't showered yet. I think it's a rule that if you stay home from work there will be no showering before noon.

You must also watch bad television, eat ice cream and paint your toe nails.

Puppy Love

2007-03-01T09:55:00.000-05:00

I was exhausted last night and fell asleep on the couch. After waking up around 10:30, I dragged myself upstairs and fell into bed. I was sound asleep and didn't even feel Michael come to bed.

At 1:30 a.m. I sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath. It felt like my heart had literally stopped. It took me a few seconds to realize that I had jumped into Michael's arms and Kodiak was barking. Not his usual "I'm happy to be in my yard" bark either.

This bark was more of a howl and a growl in one. He was standing in our doorway looking out into the hall. It was scary. He ran out into the hall and stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down and continuing his aggressive noises. I was straining to hear what he heard, but couldn't decipher anything. After a few minutes he calmed down, but I was AWAKE now and couldn't sleep.

Kodiak usually sleeps in his crate, but every now and then we let his sleep upstairs with us. I was really glad we had made that decision. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and hoping that I would get tired again. Just then he was off into the hallway again, growling and upset. This time Michael heard noises that we determined were probably the neighbor's kids and their car. I was still on edge, though, and tossed and turned. While I was lying there I realized how far Kodiak has come in the year we've had him. He's always been a Daddy's boy. I was a good second if Michael wasn't around, but the minute he came home I was pretty much forgotten. Now I am showered with kisses when I come home, he lays next to me when I watch tv and most of all, he's protective. Newfoundlands aren't aggressive dogs, but they are very loyal to their families.

As I tossed around thinking about how far he's come, a cold, wet nose touched my arm. I looked over to see the big, fluffy head I love so much. He rested his head on the bed and looked up at me with his big, brown eyes, as if to say "are you OK, Mom?" I scratched his head and the he lay down on my side of the bed. Something he never does. He stayed there the rest of the night until he woke me up with kisses in the morning.

I really do love that puppy.

Gold Digger

2007-02-28T10:41:00.000-05:00

My workout last night started off well. I got on the elliptical and a few minutes later I felt a tap on my arm. I looked over to see my friend Ashley on the next machine. We both laughed at the fact that we were working out right next to each other and hadn't even noticed. I suppose we were both following typical gym courtesy where you work out and mind your own business. I hate it when the person next to you is constantly looking over at your machine. I can tell they're comparing our distances and my speed against theirs. No thank you.

After chatting with Ashley, I finished my cardio and moved over to do weights. I was resting in between sets and scanning the machines to see which one I wanted to do next. My eyes stopped on one directly across from me. Sitting on the machine was a guy in his early 20s, obviously oblivious to everyone around him. Why?

He was picking his nose.

Not just picking, DIGGING. We're talking up to the knuckle, face contorted, must have been hitting his brain, digging. He wasn't even trying to hide it! Talk about gym courtesy. I almost threw up.

This went on for a least a few minutes. I didn't stick around to see if he cleaned the machine after he was done. I moved far away to another machine and vowed not to step near his until at least the next day.

Seriously gross.

At least he didn't eat it. At least, I don't think he did. I wouldn't be surprised, though.

Sing

2007-02-27T11:37:00.000-05:00

Know what's funny? Having your picture end up on a band's website. The band that was playing at the bar this past weekend. It's not a great one, but I'm nice so I'll show it to you.

That's me in the middle, sandwiched between Jen and her cousin, the lead singer.

Moving on...

My friend is getting married in May and has asked me to sing during her sand ceremony. When I told my family this they were surprised. Actually, I think the exact words were, "Really? You? Why did she ask you to sing?" Not quite the encouraging words I was hoping for.

The truth is, I can sing. Not like my sister who is incredible, but pretty well. But my family has never really heard me sing, so I guess I can't really blame them for the lack of support. They've heard me a little in the car or around the house, but never singing singing. I guess I just didn't see the point. My sister is the singer in the family and I'm the dancer. We fell into those roles and made them our own. So while my sister is still a great dancer, she knows it's more my thing.

I sang an a cappella solo during Greek Week my senior year. At first I refused, but Elle and my sisters convinced me that I was good enough to do it. When the day came I was so nervous. I barely remember it happening...all I remember is that Michael was standing in the back of the room and I stared at the exit sign above his head the whole time. It wasn't until afterwards when I watched the video that I realized, huh, I'm not too bad.

When my friend asked me to sing at her wedding I was shocked, but flattered. At first I wavered, but knowing that it meant enough to her to ask, I accepted. That was a couple months ago and the wedding seemed far enough away not to freak out.

I just realized the wedding is in exactly three months. That is not far away. At all.

It's a short folk song that she picked out and the sand ceremony only lasts what, a couple minutes? I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll. Be. Fine.

No one will be looking at me anyway. Right?

I hope the room has an exit sign.

That Girl

2007-02-26T13:56:00.000-05:00

Saturday night I went to a bar with some friends. Jen's cousin's band was playing and we figured it would be a good time.

We found parking somewhat easily for a weekend in Newport and managed to snag two seats both at the bar and near the stage. We ordered our drinks and started to catch up. The band started--playing covers ranging from the Killers to 80s hits and everyone was dancing. It was loud so we had to scream at each other to be heard.

All of the sudden I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a guy, late 20s, saying something.

"WHAT?" I yelled.

"Can I buy you girls a drink?!" he yelled back.

Oh yeah, sure. I like free drinks. Of course with free drinks comes chit-chat, but I'm good at that and didn't mind. He was in the Marines, in from California for a few weeks meeting up with his friend from college. When the conversation lulled I tipped my drink at him, said thanks and turned back to Jen.

A little while later her cousin bought us drinks. As soon as he left a round of shots appeared in front of us. "From those guys," the bartender said, pointing at California Marine.

Again, I like free drinks.

A little while later CM appeared at my side again asking if we wanted to join him and his friend at another bar. I declined, saying we were meeting up with more friends. And then the inevitable:

"Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

So the real question was, am I a dick now or a dick later? I can be that girl that clearly talked to him for the sole reason of free booze, or be the girl that lets him think he'll see me again and then never calls.

"Give me your number," I replied. He punched the numbers into my phone and when he turned to say something to his friend I shut my phone without saving it. We waved goodbye and CM disappeared, unaware that he would never hear from me.

I know it's mean. But I obviously had no interest in this guy (Hello, hot boyfriend.) And I never asked for the drinks, they just appeared.

Part of me felt a little bad as he walked out the door thinking he did well.

But after being in a relationship for so long and not being the flirtatious vixen I once was, the other part of me was like, oh yeah, I still got it!

Nice to be reminded.

Gluttony

2007-02-23T14:36:00.000-05:00

Thank goodness it's only once a month that I deal with this serious dilemma: do I eat the donut, the gummy bears or the crunchy cheetos? Because I? Want all of them. Any other week I would be dry heaving at the thought of consuming all of that and would really rather eat an apple. But not this week.

Calorie-wise the gummy bears are the way to go. But my hormones do not care about calories. My thighs may protest, but my hormones? They're saying donut. With sprinkles.

I probably shouldn't tell you I've already had chinese food today.

I'm not going to tell you if I choose the donut or the gummy bears.

Because there is a chance I may have already eaten the gummy bears.

It's All Ridiculous

2007-02-22T13:44:00.000-05:00

I was expecting some interesting searches that would lead people here yesterday. You have to expect it when you write about boobs. A look at my stats revealed that people were searching for, among others, "boobs", "big boobs", "little boobs", "my sister's big boobs" (um, ew), "breast milk" (did I write about breast milk? No.), "small boobies", "boobs get bigger", "blog girl boobs" and "milk maids".

I was also very surprised to see how many readers are in the same boat. It's nice to know I'm not alone in my frustration.

Moving on...

The weather was so nice yesterday that I decided to take a break from the office and go for a long walk. What I wasn't anticipating was that the warm weather had made the once frozen ground turn into a squishy, muddy mess. This caused me to step awkwardly around puddles and completely coat the heels and sides of my not-so-appropriate-for-walking-in-the-mud shoes.

As I started to head back to my office I felt pain on the bottom of my feet. Crap. Blisters. Just what I needed. Now the following is kind of gross, I'm not going to lie. But you've read about my bathroom habits, embarrassing moments and my issues with Things That Smell Bad. I think you can handle it.

The blisters had to be popped. There was no way around it because by the end of the walk I was hobbling up the stairs on tip toe. I'm no stranger to blisters. I was a dancer, after all. Blisters were a weekly thing. Once one healed, another formed. I was also on the crew team in high school. I once had a blister that took over the width of my hand. So gross. If they hurt, oh well. You danced on them, you rowed with them, you dealt with it. Pop, drain, repeat.

Apparently my tolerance has worn off because these new blisters? They HURT. Seriously, how am I ever going to give birth?

On a completely unrelated topic, some things that have been bothering me lately: men driving VW Bugs (it just seems weird), a house near work that still has headless scarecrows propped up on a bench that have been there since October, and the realization that with spring on the way, Mandals will once again make an appearance. You know, Man Sandals, those leather sandals with the open toes made for men?

Shudder.

Boobs

2007-02-21T10:29:00.000-05:00

I ordered a really cute dress that was on sale last week. It came in the mail yesterday but I waited until this morning to try it on. The image reflecting back at me from the mirror was not what I was hoping for.

I looked like Miss Molly Milk Maid offering you my rack of lamb.

Holy. Boobs.

I always liked my chest. It suited my frame just fine and I certainly rocked the cleavage in high school and my early years of college. But then came junior year. One day I went to put on my favorite tank top and it didn't fit. I struggled to get it over my chest doing one of those awkward, twirly dances you know you've done in a dressing room when the dress you picked was too small.

I called Elle into my room and presented her with the problem. "Huh," she said. "They got bigger!" Bigger? Why did they get bigger? I didn't want them to get bigger! I was happy with what I had before. After much deliberation and denial on my part, Elle convinced me a trip to Victoria's Secret was in order. Time for new bras.

We walked into the store and I picked out a few in my old size, determined that they would fit and the tank top had shrunk. Elle laughed when I let her in the dressing room and told me I could not walk around with my chest up to my chin. She left and I stood there, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to wrap my head around it. This is what women want, right? Big boobs? But all of the sudden I felt self-conscious and so much more aware of them than I ever had before.

Suddenly Elle thrust her arm over the door and said, "try this one on." It was a D. I refused. "I am not a D!" I yelled at her. But she made me. So I did.

And it fit. Perfectly.

I left the store with my new bras and a feeling like I was going through adolescence all over again. It just felt weird.

Over the next couple weeks other people began to notice. My sorority sisters were making comments. My roommates were making comments. (I was no Boobeski, but it was a noticeable change.) After a visit home my sister started calling me "D's". Michael was making a lot of comments. Needless to say, he did not see this as a problem. But I was starting to feel like my boobs were what people were noticing about me first. Not my big smile, my sense of humor or intelligent questions. My boobs.

I know some of you are rolling your eyes. Thinking, what is she complaining about? Maybe you have nice B's that fit perfectly into any any top or bathing suit you try on. I don't.

I have to pass by all the cute spaghetti strapped, empire waisted, flowy tops because I look like I could serve you dinner off my chest. I could never wear a strapless dress without looking like a linebacker.

But I do put things in perspective. My mom was lucky that her breast cancer did not result in a mastectomy. Many women are not so lucky. Thousands of women, even women my age, have lots their breasts to cancer.

When I step back and look at it that way, having large breasts may be an inconvenience, but things could be so much worse.

I'm really disappointed about that dress, though.

Tagged Part 2

2007-02-20T09:35:00.000-05:00

I was tagged. I've actually done this one before, but I don't think there is a shortage of weird things about me. So here we go. Six Weird Things About Me.

1. I cannot watch a movie unless I see it from the very beginning. Even if it's a movie I've seen 1,000 times, know all the words to and own the dvd. If it's not the beginning, I can't watch it. And if it's one I haven't seen? Forget it. I tried doing that when TNT plays movies back to back...watch the second half first and then the first half. It sucks.

2. I hate it when people shorten my name. My name is Molly, not Mol. I mean, come on. It's only five letters. How lazy are you that you have to shorten it to three? There are only a select few who are allowed to call me Mol and they had to earn it. Big time. The worst was when a professor would call me Mol on the first day of class or when a coworker did it the first week at a new job. And then you're stuck with it because you can't really say, "actually, DON'T." When I hear Mol, I think mall or maul. Ugh.

3. It's no secret I want to got engaged. It's also no secret that I browse the Knot, look at rings and dresses and think about reception sites. What may be kind of weird is that I already have a list. A big list. Full of everything from photographers to bakeries to florists. A list I've complied by reading message boards on the Knot. So that when it does happen, I'm ready to go. I am aware how sick this is. I am also aware that maybe I need to get out more on the weekends.

4. I was never into naming my cars, but in high school my first car was a Volvo and it was super cute. So my friend Abby and I named her the Molvo. And Abby had a Saab. Which, you guessed it, we named Saabby.

5. I call cats Moosies. I'm not entirely sure why I do this or where it started, but it stuck. And it has to be said in a high pitched, squealy voice. The sad thing is my friends and family are all aware of this and some of them even call them moosies now.

6. I had one of those allergy tests done years ago and I'm allergic to dust mites, ash trees and cockroaches. I don't know what an ash tree looks like and I've only seen a cockroach once, but whenever my allergies flare up I blame it on ash trees and cockroaches. Because, clearly, what else could it be.

I'm passing on the meme. Mike (no, it's not Michael), Sass, Ripe and Daily Editor...you're tagged!

The Weekend Means...

2007-02-16T13:33:00.000-05:00

An hour massage, an evening of bad TV with no one around to complain about it, indulging in bad-for-me food because I can, then working out on the new elliptical to make up for it, staying up late, sleeping in the next morning, going to a birthday party for a kid I just adore, shopping with Sass, drinking good wine, snuggling with Michael, reading light hearted novels, new magazines, avoiding the cold by curling up under a big warm blanket, soy chai lattes, a trip to Marshalls, catching up on phone calls, making yummy dinners and no work on Monday.

Have a nice weekend!

Shoe Life

2007-02-15T13:42:00.000-05:00

It's no secret that I love shoes. I am a firm believer that shoes can represent your personality, dress up any outfit and make a statement. I can also relate shoes to big moments in my life. And you thought I was weird before...

The first time I put on my toe shoes I felt so grown up. For years I had watched the older girls in the dance studio balance on their big toes, legs long and straight, back arched. I longed to dance like them, to be like them. I was nine, a little on the young side, but ready. The toe shoes were baby pink satin with long ribbons my mom had sewn on. I remember the feel of the lambswool on my toes, the look of the ribbons tied around my tights and the smell of the rosin as I crushed it under my toe. For years after that I defined myself as a dancer. As if putting on those shoes represented who I was.

In fifth grade I wore the red Tweety Bird sneakers. As hideous as they were, I didn't think so at the time. In fact, they were the first pair of sneakers I ever had that my mom didn't have any say over. Before going shopping she assured me that I would be allowed to pick out my own shoes. And boy did I. She hated them. Tacky, she said. And I was going through that awkward, lanky stage where my feet were huge. What's the best way to deal with that? Emphasize their size with big red sneakers. Awesome. But despite how ugly they were, I loved them. And I picked them out all by myself.

Eight grade brought the clear platform jellies. Another great choice, I know. But this one wasn't all about me. This one was about boys. Because the minute I put on those shoes I felt adult and attractive. I was 13, after all. In my wide leg Limited jeans, velour top and clear jellies, I felt ready to talk to any boy. And I did. Got my first real boyfriend that year.

High school brought high heeled mary janes and Nine West boots, a new boyfriend and attention from guys as I walked down the hall. I knew they were checking me out as my heels clicked down the hall. And I liked it.

I went to Europe the summer after graduation and this is where the addiction began. My first pair of "real" heels, gorgeous, unique, expensive heels came from a boutique in Austria. Things were never the same after that.

I was wearing knee-high black boots the night I realized I was in love with Michael. I wore those boots until the heels broke.

The day I walked across the stage and accepted my college diploma I was wearing pink heels with a little bow. I was so happy, I think I might have strutted. Just a little.

One day I will buy the perfect, elegant shoes to wear with my wedding gown, the first pair of tiny shoes for my baby and eventually shoes to wear to my children's graduations and weddings.

My shoes will always have a story to tell.

Sugar High

2007-02-14T10:39:00.000-05:00

This time last year I was working in a preschool and was miserable. As much as I love kids, it's not where I wanted to be or what I wanted to be doing. But the job market was bad and the benefits were good. So I stayed.

On the morning of Valentine's Day I sorted through my closet trying to find something pink to wear. Ordinarily I don't color coordinate my clothes to the holiday and for some reason I never buy anything pink. But when you work with a whole bunch of 18 month-3 year olds, you have to dress the part. So I put on the only pink I have, a Juicy Couture baby pink sweater that I really didn't want to wear in the vicinity of finger paint, and headed off to work.

Holidays at a preschool are the best days to work there. Well, great for the taste buds, not so great for the waistline. I was greeted by trays of brownies and cupcakes, baskets of cookies and boxes of chocolate. One parent was a pastry chef and her Valentine's Day treat baskets were to die for. I think I ate all day. All. Day.

Know who else ate sugar all day? The children. Know how many children were in my room? Fifteen. All on sugar highs. For eight hours. Yeah, that was fun.

I saw on the news this morning that the preschool had closed for a snow day. I can't help but think there was more than just snow behind that decision.

Randomness

2007-02-13T16:18:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I am 80. I don't know if I slept weird or what, but my back is killing me. Especially my entire right side from my head to my hips. And I couldn't get a massage appointment until Friday. I'm dying. No, really. Tonight it's a hot shower and a muscle relaxer. Stat.

My fingers are crossed for a snow today tomorrow, but it's not looking too good. As much as I don't really enjoy winter, I was looking forward to one good snowy day. And you can't get more romantic than snow for Valentine's Day. Michael and I once got snowed in at a beautiful bed and breakfast in Chatham, MA for Valentine's Day. It was gorgeous.

Speaking of Valentine's Day, I was pleasantly surprised to hear from Michael seeing if I could leave work a little early tomorrow. He made reservations at my favorite restaurant. I wasn't expecting dinner since we usually just do cards, but it's very sweet and made my day.

For some reason my blog traffic has been especially heavy today. I think it must be because I wrote about religion yesterday. And people have been reading from all over the world. Which is actually very cool.

Freaky

2007-02-13T14:41:00.000-05:00

This is the weirdest thing ever. Try it.

1. While sitting where you are lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.

2. Now, while doing this, draw the number 6 in the air with your right hand.

Your foot will change direction.

Freaky!

Testing The Waters

2007-02-12T13:47:00.000-05:00

Religion has always been a strange topic for me. Growing up my family was not religious. My mom (raised Catholic) and my dad (raised Jewish) had both stopped practicing by their teens. My sister and I were raised being taught values and kindness and celebrating holidays with both sides of the family, but we did not attend church or temple on a regular basis.

My mom made sure to teach us a little history behind both religions, but since there was no weekly reminders (like CCD) eventually the stories faded away. And while everything was fine and I never really felt like I was missing anything, a part of me was envious of my friends and cousins. Like they were privy to a members-only club that held secret information. If you weren't in, you didn't get it.

As I got older and my friends weren't running off to CCD or the JCC after school anymore, religion just became something in the background. I developed by own beliefs of something greater than myself. Something along the lines of nature. But whenever asked about it I could never give a strong definition. I'd just say I didn't associate myself with either religion, but I believed that yes, there is a God whatever He (or She) may be.

The first time I realized this was going to be a problem was when I began dating my high school boyfriend. He was Jewish. His mother had married a non-Jewish man but decided to raise her children as her religion.

She never liked me. Which I found very hypocritical.

No matter how polite I was or how often I tried to discuss other topics with her there was always that underlying feeling of disapproval. I couldn't win.

Religion took a back seat again in college until things became serious with Michael. He was raised in a very religious home, and while he does not practice like he did as a child, it is still important to him. As we discussed our future together I began to get nervous. Couples break up over religion. Would he be willing to accept who I am and what I do (and do not) believe? Would I be able to accept his beliefs?

The short answer is yes. After much discussion I learned that while it is important to him that religion play a role in his and his children's lives, it is not all consuming. And he accepts whatever path I choose to take.

His mother does not accept this and it will always be an issue. But that's another story. (I just can't win with mothers!)

That being said, I am curious about it. So without him knowing I started doing some research. Because while I know a little, I can barely scratch the surface of what the Bible is all about. I did some research and bought a book that breaks it down and really explains everything. I was reading it in bed the other night when Michael got home. He saw what I was reading and questioned me about it. After I explained he smiled and kissed me. Because he knows that while it's mostly for me, it's also for him. For us. Because if it's important to him, I want to understand.

This does not mean that I'm converting to Catholicism. Not even close. I still have a lot of problems with some of what the church stands for. And I am very liberal, which rubs a lot of people the wrong way (Especially his mother).

But I'm learning. And we'll see where it goes from here.

Ms. Judgy Pants

2007-02-09T13:34:00.000-05:00

I'm judgemental. There. I said it. I make a snap decision about someone in the first few moments of meeting (or seeing) them.

The reporter? Geek in high school. Turned the volume up a little in college and learned the advantages to dressing well. Still not too suave with the ladies.

The guy at the restaurant? Townie. High school education. Crude. A little clueless. (He was wearing flannel pajama bottoms with what I think were skiers on them and sneakers circa 1997.)

Granted, the reporter could have women lining up to date him, (although I sincerely doubt it) and flannel pants guy could be have easily been promoted from the paper goods department at Walmart to automotive parts. See! I did it again!

I consider myself to be a nice person and it's only in certain company that I would voice these opinions out loud. And these opinions are kind of mean.

But then again, what are people thinking about me?

Flashback

2007-02-08T09:03:00.000-05:00

I head the song "Free Falling" on my way into work today and it reminded me of a post I had written before this blog existed...

I was driving home from work yesterday with my iPod on shuffle when Tom Petty's "Free Falling" came on. I was suddenly transported back to senior year of college.

Scene: It's the last night of Greek Week. We're at a highlighter social in someone's beach house. Music is pumping, black lights are glowing and everyone is dancing. Scrawled across my back is the requisite "Moelle" as well as numerous suggestive adjectives written on every other conceivable area of my wife beater.

Elle and I are dancing on a futon. Below us is a sea of Greek life, including uninvited girls from another sorority. We try to ignore the obvious tension caused by their presence, but it mixes in the air with the cigarette smoke.

We've been shaking and shimmying for a good hour, our drinks occasionally splashing over the sides of our red Solo cups as our feet slip in between the cushion and the planks of the futon. We're sweaty, tipsy and having fun.

As the bass fades away from the last song, the first strains of "Free Falling" begin. The crowd cheers. It's an old favorite. Elle and I grab each others hands and start to sing and sway. I look down and see the crowd swaying in unison. Hands are in the air and everyone is singing at the top of their lungs.

At the base of the futon is a girl from the other sorority. Shes singing along and looks up and catches our eyes. A mutual understanding passes between us and her. We can all get along. What the hell? We grab her hands and start singing together. She whips out a highlighter and writes "[her sorority]+ ZETA" on my torso. I scribbled "Free Falling" on her back. You're ok? I'm ok. We're ok.

In between the music and my pink-punch haze I realize that this is the perfect ending to the perfect week to the perfect year.

Elle and I hug. We both know this is symbolic of the end of an era. In a few weeks we will graduate and leave college behind.

But for now, we'll just keep on dancing.

How To Piss Me Off

2007-02-07T12:39:00.000-05:00

I left my office 15 minutes before the typical lunch hour so I could get in and out of the grocery store as quickly as possible while avoiding the usual swam of idiots I encounter. I figured that I would pick up lunch and dinner in one shot. I breezed through the store, got what I needed and headed for the checkout line.

The woman at the register gave me a half-hearted "paper or plastic?" before scanning my items. It was no mystery that she would rather be anywhere but there. As she was scanning I swiped my card, hit credit and scanned the candy rack while I waited for her to finish.

"Credit or debit?" she asked, snapping me out of the candy haze.

"Debit, please," I replied.

"You hit credit, not debit," she said exasperatedly.

"Oh, oops, sorry. Credit is fine." (If you can already see I hit 'credit,' why are you asking me credit or debit?)

"Well which is it? Credit or debit? I mean if you're going to change your mind again I need to know which button to press."

"Credit. Is. Fine."

I don't mean to sound like a snot, but isn't her job to provide a service to me, not give me attitude? Is this really such a huge deal? Especially since I told her that credit was fine and she didn't have to hit another button?

Because you know, that would be so much work.

100 Things I Learned From My Mom

2007-02-06T09:22:00.000-05:00

Inspired by Alissa's list.

1. Always be polite.
2. Always keep a savings account and hold your own checkbook, even when you’re married.
3. You’re never too old to cozy.
4. If you want long hair, you have to take care of it.
5. You didn’t actually vacuum if you went around the shoes.
6. Lying is hurtful and disrespectful.
7. No one can take away your education.
8. You should always have enough money for first and last month’s rent, an unexpected car problem and a good pair of shoes.
9. Sometimes ice cream before dinner is OK.
10. A man should be hardworking, educated and kind. He must have a sense of humor and a job. He must respect you.
11. No matter what, you can always come home.
12. Fingers do not belong in your nose…unless they are clean. And never in public.
13. There is a very fine line between tasteful and inappropriate cleavage.
14. Always call or send a thank-you card.
15. You can accomplish anything if you work hard.
16. Tattoos and body piercings that are chic now eventually go out of style the same way clothing and hairstyles do. Tattoos are forever (and I will be out of the will.)
17. Travel.
18. Do not make fun of people who are different from you.
19. Good friends are important.
20. Always keep good dark chocolate in the house.
21. Hot dogs and spaghetti are boring. Eat ethnic food!
22. Learn a foreign language.
23. Know the history behind different religions.
24. Don’t let people push you around. Compose your thoughts and make your point.
25. Exercise.
26. Play an instrument. (Or two)
27. Laugh.
28. Say “I Love You.”
29. Dance around your living room in your socks to good music.
30. Read for pleasure.
31. Money doesn’t grow on trees. You have to earn it.
32. Family always comes first.
33. Driving is a privilege, not a right.
34. Making your bed makes the whole room look neater.
35. A hotel room doesn’t have to be fancy, but it must have clean sheets and a clean bathroom.
36. The sun makes you happy.
37. Don’t drink and drive.
38. Don’t clean the kitchen sink with the bathroom sponge.
39. Plant a garden.
40. Drink soy milk.
41. Take vitamins.
42. Take chances.
43. If you need your mom, she’s there. Day or night.
44. Burritos are a quick dinner that always tastes good.
45. Always make a traveling pee pee.
46. You might look funny in snow boots, but your feet will be warm and dry.
47. Take pictures.
48. Write.
49. Never leave candles unattended.
50. Good sheets make all the difference.
51. How to make the perfect “dip dip” egg.
52. Every Christmas ornament has a story.
53. To value myself.
54. To be open-minded.
55. That even though women are completely capable, sometimes it’s easier to hire a man to tile a floor or paint a wall.
56. It’s OK to cry at movies.
57. That when you have to go, you have to go. Everybody poops.
58. A messy closet is an unhappy closet.
59. A mirror can make the whole room look bigger.
60. Cheese is a necessity.
61. It’s OK to love shoes.
62. Eyeliner makes small eyes bigger.
63. Don’t procrastinate.
64. That when the leaves show their palms, it’s going to rain.
65. There’s nothing better than a maple sugar candy.
66. Wear sunscreen.
67. Floss.
68. Be on top of current events.
69. Hair grows back, but don’t mess with it too much.
70. Sing.
71. Get your oil changed.
72. Balance your checkbook.
73. That she’s proud of me.
74. Smile.
75. You can love the ocean without actually going in it.
76. Don’t eat too much candy. It will rot your teeth.
77. And if it does, get the white filling.
78. Learn your family history.
79. Appreciate art.
80. Don’t eat processed foods.
81. Drink lots of fluids when you’re sick.
82. Get lots of calcium.
83. Call just to say hi.
84. Eliminate clutter.
85. It's true, socks do disappear in the dryer.
86. Dress appropriately for an interview.
87. It’s OK to flirt.
88. Always carry a Bandaid, Advil and Chapstick.
89. Eat tomatoes and peas right off the vine.
90. Get a hummingbird feeder.
91. Drive slowly in the snow.
92. When tying your shoes bunny ears work just as well as the other way.
93. Believe in something bigger than yourself.
94. Wear interesting jewelry.
95. Voting is a right that not everyone in the world is fortunate to have. Use it.
96. Brunettes are even sexier than blondes because they have more mystery and soul. They didn’t get a free ride because of their hair color – they earned it.
97. A girl can buy her own diamonds.
98. Trust your instincts.
99. Learn from your mistakes.
100. Your mother is always right.

Weekend Recap

2007-02-05T09:36:00.000-05:00

Preparing for my lunch with Sass was much like getting ready for a first date. I changed my outfit three times. I made sure my hair and makeup looked good, but not like I was trying so hard. I was nervous, but I was excited.

And I was late.

I, always irritatingly compulsively early, was late. But with good reason. I got stuck behind and old woman at the ATM that I swear had never used one before. Eleven minutes we sat there (ELEVEN!) while she punched at the screen and hit cancel over and over and over again. It was to the point where I wanted to get out of the car and be like, lady, seriously.

By the time I made it up to Providence I was a good 15 minutes late. Maybe 20. Is torture for me to be late. I'm surprised I wasn't twitching.

I met Sass at the Cheesecake Factory and it didn't really feel all that weird. I had a really good time and I hope we meet up again. And by the way, her ring is stunning in real life.

Sunday we woke up to a HYPER dog. He usually has a "play date" of sorts twice a week with a german shepard, but Michael's friend was away for the weekend so they didn't meet up. This made a serious impact of the dog. Every time the phone would ring he would run to the door and look at you expectantly. Like, "Dad, let's go see my friend, Dad. Dad? Dad? Friend!"

We took him for a walk on the bike path, which turned into a jog. Running along side of him seemed to be the only way to keep him from stopping to sniff (and pee on) everything. While I don't especially enjoy running in the cold (hurts my ears and throat) it did feel pretty exhilarating.

Afterwards I took a ride to the local book store and spent $50 (man, I need a library card) on new books. And proceeded to spend eight wonderful hours reading through one and starting another. Eight glorious hours.

And now it's back to work. And the thermometer said 10 degrees this morning.

FUN.

Because I'm Tired Of Looking At Spreadsheets

2007-02-02T14:35:00.000-05:00

Stolen from Alissa, who stole it from someone else. So it's OK.

[A is for age:]
24. Which is not that exciting of an age...it's not one of the milestone ages like 25. I'm so not ready for 25.

[B is for booze of choice:]
I'm a vodka girl, or a coconut rum girl. Or a martini girl.

[C is for career:]
Public Relations.

[D is for your dog's name:]
Kodiak...but he has a thousand nicknames. Dooze (see also: dooze-man, dooze-face), bubby, handsome boy, puppa...

[E is for essential items you use everyday:]
My toothbrush immediately first thing in the morning, overpriced face wash for dry skin, cell phone, iPod and XM radio, Smith's Rosebud Salve.

[F is for favorite song(s) at the moment:]
The entire Wicked soundtrack, Nothing Left To Lose--Mat Kearney, My Mistake--Michelle Featherstone.

[G is for favorite game(s):]
Uno, rummy 500, Boggle

[H is for hometown:]
Pleasant Valley, NY.

[I is for instruments you play:]
I started piano when I was five and violin in the fourth grade. I haven't really touched the violin since high school and I don't have a piano right now which is KILLING me. I'm awesome on the piano.

[J is for jam or jelly that you like:]
Straaaaaawberry.

[K is for kids?]
Not yet, but I cannot wait.

[L is for last kiss?]
Yummy.

[M is for most admired trait?]
I'm a caring and trustworthy friend.

[N is for name of your crush:]
Michael.

[O is for overnight hospital stays:]
None. Knock on wood!

[P is for phobias:]
Heights. Illness of a loved one. Not reaching my goals.

[Q is for quotes you like:]
"I still have my feet on the ground, I just wear better shoes."~ Oprah; May all your joys be pure joys and all your pain champagne."~ Um....the Food Network.

[R is for biggest regret:]
I cheated on a boyfriend out of retaliation. I was young and it was stupid, but I regret doing something so malicious when I should have been mature enough to talk about it.

[S is for sweets of your choice:]
Anything chocolate, cupcakes.

[T is for time you wake up:]
I shoot for 7 a.m. Sometimes it's 7:15. And then I'm running late.

[U is for underwear:]
I wear them.

[V is for vegetables you love:]
Peas, carrots, celery, cucumbers, baby tomatoes....mmm I want a salad!

[W is for worst habit:]
I'm a pack rat. And my "closet" (our second bedroom) is a mess.

[X is for x-rays you've had:]
Ankle, teeth.

[Y is for yummy food you make:]
I make a mean parmesan chicken, stir fry, banana bread.

[Z is for zodiac sign:]
Capricorn

Friday Ramblings

2007-02-02T11:31:00.000-05:00

On Friday's I usually wear jeans to work. But not jeans jeans. I reserve my cute Ann Taylor denim trouser pants for Fridays. But today I decided to wear regular jeans. And I feel weird. Under-dressed despite my cashmere sweater and non-snow (I know) boots.

It seems like people really check out on Fridays. The office atmosphere is more relaxed, people step away from their desks. Keyboards are suspiciously quieter. My already mellow boss finds new things in the office drum on with his drumsticks. Quite often there's an invitation for lunch, an excuse to take a walk or an extended phone call. The promise of the weekend, two glorious days off, is no longer days away.

And tomorrow I'm meeting Sass for lunch! I'm excited, but nervous too. Will she like me? Will I like her? Are we both really the people we portray in our blogs? I have a feeling that once we get passed the initial this-feels-like-a-first-date jitters, it's going to be a really good time.

I just hope no more freaky snow comes out of nowhere. A slight dusting, they said. Slight dusting my ass. Southern Rhode Island got clobbered, which meant people on the road drove. very. very. slow. It was pretty, though. And watching the dog prance and jump and run laps around the yard was very cute.

Weekend, I'm ready for you.

Really?

2007-02-01T09:12:00.000-05:00

I called my sweet, handsome, college educated boyfriend yesterday to ask him to take two pieces of chicken out of the freezer so I could make something for dinner.

I got home around 5:40, said my hellos to Michael and the dog and walked into the kitchen to determine if the chicken was fully defrosted.

Then I stopped.

Sitting on the counter was not chicken, but a pork chop and a piece of talapia.

I walk into the living room holding the half-frozen not-chicken.

"Michael, this isn't chicken."

"It's not?"

"No, it's a pork chop and fish."

"Huh. I thought that chicken looked like fish."
*
*
*
*
Did I mention he has a Bachelor's of Science?

Perfection

2007-01-31T10:08:00.000-05:00

Not so perfect:

- Waking up early because we only have one bathroom and Michael was working the same time I was today. And we both needed to shower. It actually makes sense that I shower first on days like this because when I'm done he gets in the shower and I do my hair and makeup. That way the mirror is free for him to shave when he gets out.

But 20 minutes makes a huge difference in your sleep pattern. At least it does for me. And now I have that tired headache behind my eyes.

- Attempting to make "real" oatmeal (not instant) without any directions because we need to go grocery shopping tonight.

- Shmutz on my sleeve. What the hell? Is it oatmeal?

Perfect:

- Not immediately turning the TV on last night and curling up on the couch to read a book, something I haven't done in a very long time.

- Michael getting home 30 minutes later with a big smile on his face because "I missed you!"

- Smiling behind my book as Michael yelled at the TV during the State of State address.

- Reading my book in bed (ah the reading!) under the warm comforter and flannel sheets.

- Drifting off to sleep to the sound of Michael singing along to Dave Matthews in the next room.

Yeah, I guess life is pretty good.

Fears

2007-01-30T13:15:00.000-05:00

I hate driving next to trucks on the highway. My friend's mom was in an accident when she was in college caused by a truck moving into her lane without noticing her there. I think that story really scarred me. Even though she told it to me 20 years ago. I always find myself scooting alllll the way over to the side of the lane whenever a truck passes me.

I'm terrified of heights. I have no idea where this came from because I used to love roller coasters, trust falls and zip lines. A few years ago Michael and I were hiking in New Hampshire and came across an old fire tower that you could climb for a great view. We got half-way up and I started to shake. I couldn't move. It took all I had to get to the top, where I basically huddled in a corner and held on for dear life. Getting down was even worse. Ever since then I avoid being up high at all costs. Except for flying. I have no fear of flying. Weird.

I'm afraid of something happening to my parents. Especially my mom, a breast cancer survivor. I refuse to watch "Step Mom" or any other movie where the mother dies. We made the mistake of watching "The Family Stone" at Christmas. I had already seen it, but forgot how it ended. I was bawling at the end and hugging my mom like there was no tomorrow.

I'm scared of wasps.

Especially big ones.

With stingers.

Can't Win 'Em All

2007-01-29T11:35:00.000-05:00

Are soy chai lattes caffeinated? Because if they are I think I'm going through withdrawal. After drinking way too many lattes this weekend I opted not to have any today. And now I have a serious headache. Connection?

I'm also starving and am looking forward to eating my lunch that's in the fridge. Homemade lasagna and salad.

"Oh, you had time to make a lasagna this weekend?"

No, I did not. However Michael's mother had time to make him a lasagna, a big salad, a pot roast AND a carrot cake yesterday. In between church and a 3 p.m. dinner. Which I decided at the last minute not to attend. Because I had "plans". Which included CVS and the couch.

When he walked in the door that evening with heaping bags of food I felt the pangs of yet another jab at me.

I can't compete with a four-course meal made with love, control and a dash of guilt.

And she knows it.

Mother: 1
Me: 0

The Cold Has...

2007-01-26T09:47:00.000-05:00

- caused the laundry pile to take over the bedroom because I cannot bring myself to do laundry in these temperatures. Good thing it's Friday because I am officially out of socks.

- made me look like and idiot starting my car. PJs, slippers, Michael's huge coat and full-on work hair and makeup is quite the look.

- given me a severe case of Morning Brain. Driving to work I thought to myself, "Gee, my windshield is dirty. I should clean it." It occurred to me only as the the wiper fluid was hitting my windshield that, huh, it's below freezing. And, oh yeah, the wiper fluid is freezing to my windshield.

- made me (yes, it's the cold's fault) get two soy chai lattes in two days.

- made it necessary to wear gloves.

- one of which is now covered in soy chai latte that spilled as I was crossing the street.

- made by boss wear jeans. To work. I'm shocked!

- made me wear a (cute) hat which gave me (not so cute) static hair.

Oh, winter. Boo you.

I'm Starting To Think I have Issues...

2007-01-25T14:30:00.000-05:00

My hair looks like crap today. I have a hair appointment tonight so you would think I'd be OK with my hair looking less than perfect now. But I'm not.

For some reason I think my stylist will judge me for having a crappy hair day. I feel like my hair should be voluminous and shiny and gorgeous to prove to her that yes, I take care of my hair! I'm not a shlub! I didn't throw my hair in a ponytail when it was still wet!

It's like making your teeth sparkle before going to the dentist or shaving your legs before a doctor's appointment. You want to present yourself as the best possible You. The together, competent You.

I seriously considered washing my hair last night so I would have time to straighten and style it today. Of course I chose to watch The Hills instead (Those girls have good hair. Bitches.) and didn't leave myself enough time to do it this morning.

Seriously, could I be wasting brain cells on a stupider problem? In a few hours I will be sitting smack in the middle of a salon and my hair will be sticking up in all directions between multiple layers of foil. In front of people. This does not bother me.

But a limp, semi-damp ponytail? Completely unacceptable.

Issues, people. Issues.

Necessity

2007-01-24T11:10:00.000-05:00

Michael had a meeting after work last night and afterwards was going out with some co-workers. I knew this a week before hand. I had no problem with it.

I got home from work, made myself some dinner and settled in to read Real Simple and watch a new (finally!) episode of Gilmore Girls. The dog was being good, I was cozy in my PJs. It was a nice evening.

Around 10 I decided I was ready for bed. I did my routine, put the dog to bed and snuggled under the flannel sheets, anticipating dozing off before the end of the Law & Order: SVU re-run.

Instead, I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Hot, then cold, then hot again. First the pillow was too hard, then it wasn't hard enough. And I was so thirsty but didn't feel like getting up for a drink.

A little after 11 I finally fell asleep. I woke with a start around 12:15 and realized Michael wasn't home yet. While this wasn't cause for concern quite yet, I couldn't help worrying. He had to work early the next day. The meeting was far away. What if he drank too much? What if there was an accident? Why isn't he home yet?

Toss. Turn. Toss. Turn.

Just as I was debating calling him, I heard his car pull up. Phew.

He got in bed, spooned me and gave me kisses.

I was sound asleep in five minutes.

A Weighty Issue

2007-01-23T15:29:00.000-05:00

Growing up I was always very thin. So thin, in fact, that an 8th grade french trip to Quebec was nearly ruined by a group of girlfriends who turned on me and told everyone I was anorexic. Which I was not.

I started dancing when I was three and by 17 I was a thin girl with a dancer's body. But I never really thought much about my weight. I was how I was.

And then came college. And the late nights and the dining hall food and the drinking. And consequently, a few extra pounds. I started working out and got healthy again, but the body I had in high school is long gone. I enjoy the curves that come with being a woman, and I get compliments on my body, but every now and then I am find I’m still unhappy with it.

I know I’m going to get flack for this. Michael will tell me I’m crazy. Friends will tell me that at 24 I wouldn’t want the body of an 18 year old. And maybe it’s true that only I hate my thighs.

A friend of mine is coming to visit this weekend. I am so happy that she will be here but a part of me is apprehensive about it. She’s tiny…just over 5 feet and has lost a lot of weight since college. She looks great and I’m happy for her. But there’s that voice in the back of my head that won’t stop comparing myself to her. When she’s around I feel like a house despite my 5’6”, size 6 frame.

Do men have these issues or is it reserved strictly to women? Because it really sucks.

Thanks

2007-01-22T15:53:00.000-05:00

Dear New Guy,

You're outnumbered 4:2.

Please put the seat down.

Thanks.

Company

2007-01-22T12:38:00.000-05:00

One thing I've learned from having a dog is privacy goes out the window. Especially when the bathroom door doesn't lock.

Imagine my surprise the first time he pushed open the door as I was sitting on the toilet. He walked right up to me, squeezed himself into the tiny area between my feet and the wall and lay down. It's amazing how vulnerable you feel, even in your own home, with the bathroom door wide open and a big animal at your feet.

Or the time no one was home and I was taking a shower and nearly DIED when a big black nose suddenly thrust itself past the shower curtain. Trust me, nothing prepares you for that.

As time went by, having Kodiak in the bathroom became more and more routine. We actually wait a minute before undressing or sitting on the toilet because we know it's just a few second before he pushes open the door and does a trademark FLOP on the floor.

To non-dog people this might sound gross or annoying, but to us it's perfectly normal. He's a love, a real people dog. He just wants to be where we are. When we take a shower, he takes a steam. When we do our business, he takes a nap.

It's actually very cute.

Except for that nose in the shower thing. I don't think I could survive that again.

Pen Pal

2007-01-19T11:40:00.000-05:00

My first day on the job was spent running around with CNN.

A few weeks later my boss received a letter from a man in Ohio who had seen him on TV. In almost un-legible handwriting he wrote of his interest in our company, his life in the Navy and his past vacations to New England. Enclosed was a photo of him standing by a flower bed. The note on the back read "I am 79 years now. I was 58 in the photo."

His name is Norm.

My boss had no plans of writing back to him, but the letter struck a soft spot in me. Maybe this man lived alone with no family. Maybe his hobby is watching the news and writing to people he sees. Maybe he's waiting for someone to write back.

So I did.

And what developed was sort of a pen pal. Every so often I receive a letter from Norm. Most take awhile to get through since his handwriting is so bad, but they are always amusing. He's told me about his hobbies (woodcarving and NASCAR), his family("Got a nephew around those parts") and his friend's pool ("It's very cool and relaxing.") He writes without rhyme or reason, underlining certain passages or writing some in red ink. ("I've always liked to watch the Friday night fights from Foxwoods", "I bought a Japanese truck...a Tundra.")

He's sent me postcards of Ohio, stickers and another photo (again of him at 58, not 79.) I keep the conversation light, talk mostly about the weather or ask him questions about himself. Maybe it's because I'm cautious (or paranoid?) or maybe it's because I'm a New Yorker, but I never divulge anything very personal about myself.

Or maybe it's because he kept asking for a photo and was trying to guess what movie star I looked like.

The creepy old man stuff aside, I like hearing from Norm and I like to think that my letters bring him some joy.

I haven't heard from Norm in awhile and whenever a long stretch of time passes I wonder if he's still alive. I know that sounds morbid, but he is getting up there. And if he does pass, will I ever know?

I like to think that he's just very busy making his wood carvings and driving his Japanese Tundra.

Is It Friday Yet?

2007-01-18T15:24:00.000-05:00

Last night I sliced my finger while trying to open a bottle of fancy olive oil. The wound cuts across my finger at a ridiculous angle, making it impossible to cover the whole thing with a bandaid. It hurts. A lot.

I'm really beginning to hate the words "strategize", "micro-manage" and "team".

My skin is still rebelling like a petulant teenager.

Now that it's getting cold I have to fight the feelings that always creep up around this time of year. Maybe it's a mild case of Seasonal Affective Disorder, but winter makes me want to curl up in my bed and stay there. I'm hoping to get through the season with vitamins, working out, snuggling and wine.

Lots of wine.

Grievances

2007-01-17T14:29:00.000-05:00

Mother Nature -- I knew it had to become winter sometime, but couldn't we have eased into it? Fourteen degrees is not what I wanted to encounter this morning.

Skin -- I've done everything to appease you. I have washed, lotioned and cared for you just as I should. I did nothing to deserve the breakout on my chin. Nothing! You are 24 years old. I suggest you start acting like it.

Shoes -- Why do you hurt me? I know you're just a smidge higher than I usually wear to work but I really thought you would pull through. Apparently you are made for the walk from the car to the bar and nothing more. You are so beautiful on the outside, yet your true colors are showing.

Fridge -- Why are you so empty? Why can't you just fill yourself up? I really don't want to go shopping for you. And I absolutely cannot go after work. I'm wearing beautiful yet evil shoes. I refuse to walk around a grocery store.

I refuse.

Return Of The Date

2007-01-16T10:56:00.000-05:00

Despite the weather, yesterday was a nice day. We slept in, took the dog for a long walk, shopped for my elliptical (yay!) and went out for dinner.

Over a shared appetizer of steamed dumplings it dawned on me that I could not remember the last time we went on a date. We always used to go on dates. In college we had a "date night" once a week, no matter what.

I guess sometime in the past few years, between work and life, we settled into a routine. A comfortable, happy routine...but a routine none the less.

It's funny how relationships change. I saved some emails Michael wrote me the first few months we were dating. I had just finished my freshman year and had returned to NY for the summer. The time apart was agony. The torture of new, young love was enough to make me realize I never wanted to be apart again. (Incidentally, that was the only summer I ever went back home.)

They are the sweetest letters and I really cherish them. Everything was new, we were so in love. We were both high on the new relationship buzz and the curiosity and excitement of the unknown.

Every six months or so I read those letters as a reminder of where we came from, what our relationship was built upon. They always make me smile.

And although the infatuation has melted away, what remains is something strong and wonderful. We're no longer planning our next date, but our future, our family, our lives. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

But what had a tendency to get lost in the fray is that time we used to sit aside just for each other. Moving in together gave us the advantage of seeing each other every day. Together time became synonymous with dinner, tv and bed. And while that is all well and good, I don't think either of us realized how much we missed that special time.

Until last night.

So as we dug into our entrees it was decided. We will bring back date night.

And I can't wait.

Randomness...or Sneakers and Speakers*

2007-01-12T09:12:00.000-05:00

This week is the first full week I've worked since Christmas. It's been so tough to get up early five days in a row. I mean, God. The agony.

I left 15 minutes early today because I was up! And ready! So why not?(!) Apparently leaving 15 minutes early means you will encounter 10 times as many asshats on the road. Lesson learned: no more leaving early.

I went out last night for my mid-week martinis with Jen. We ran into some people she went to high school with, including a guy I worked with briefly at a coffee shop in college. He didn't recognize me. I guess I'm just that memorable.

*During the conversation he mentioned that earlier in the day he had bought sneakers and speakers. I just liked the way it sounds.

Also in that group of people was a guy that apparently applied for my job. Obviously, he did not get it. Because I did. Awkward...

And towards the end of the evening a group of people erupted in applause because a couple got engaged in the bar. My thoughts alternated between "They just got engaged in the bar!" to "They just got engaged in the bar?" Well, OK. Thoughts? Let's be honest here. That was said out loud. Blame it on the two martinis.

While getting ready to run the dishwasher this morning I happened to stop and read the label.

On the front: New! So effective, no need to prewash!

On the back: For best results fill both regular and prewash compartments.

Huh.

And finally, it's National De-Lurking Week! I know you're out there, I check my stats. You're all over the world! So stop by and say Hi. Love me? Let me know. Hate me? Let me know that, too. I can take it. And all those loyal readers that have never commented (cough, JEN) here's your chance.

Fashion Faux Pas

2007-01-11T13:07:00.000-05:00

While out to lunch today I spotted one of Those Guys. You know the kind, the vintage Nike wearing, European-cut clothing sporting, my-hair-is-meant-to-look-unwashed type of guy. He would have pulled off the look perfectly if under his sporty zip-up he wasn't wearing a Family Guy t-shirt. Not quite a fashion disaster, but a definite oops. We've all had them. We look back at pictures and cringe at the "what was I thinking?" moments. Mine? Oh...there were many.

I owned a pair of red Tweety Bird sneakers. I thought they were the coolest thing ever. I was in 5th grade and was styyyyling, baby. Oh yeah.

I'd also like to point out that I searched Ebay just do you could actually see the horror that used to reside on my feet. Thank God my taste in shoes has improved.

Like any child born in the 80s, I also wore an assortment of snap bracelets. My favorite one was zebra striped and furry. I also had a few metallic ones and one that was a really great shade of lime green. I used to coordinated them to my scrunch socks. Until they were banned from school for being dangerous. Apparently if you took off the fabric coating they were nothing more than a bendy, metal WEAPON.

The mock turtleneck. But not just any mock turtleneck, oh no. A velour mock turtleneck. In long sleeve, short sleeve and a dress. I sported black, stripes, forest green and the dress....the dress was an iridescent purple that changed from dark to light depended on if you brushed the velour up or down. I may have worn the dress with clear platform jellies.

Overalls. An almost daily outfit in the 7th grade, complete with the baby t-shirt and boxers. You know, so a strip of your midsection was showing, but not enough to be considered inappropriate. My favorite boxers? Blue flannel with sheep on them. That I made in Home Ec. Yeah.
So overall, it was pretty bad. But at least it wasn't a Family Guy t-shirt.

Ladies Who Lunch

2007-01-10T11:01:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think I'd be really good at being a woman of leisure. Or a lady that lunches.

Don't get me wrong, I like to work. It's nice to feel accomplished doing something I enjoy and I didn't go to college for nothing.

But sometimes I envy the women who don't have to work. The women that can role out of bed and go to the gym, do their grocery shopping mid-day and come home and watch Oprah. Sometimes I really want to be one of those women.

And then there's the stay-at-home Mom. I read my fair share of mommy blogs and I know that it's not all fun and games. I've worked with kids and I know how hard it is to only have a baby to talk to all day. But I've thought about it and when I have a baby, I think I want to stay home with them. At least for awhile.

Last night I was in a really good mood driving home from work. I stopped at the grocery store and despite how much I hate it there, I was actually looking forward to picking out dinner. I strolled around, picking up fresh vegetables and shrimp and rice and I even managed to plan dinner for the next day. (Yes, I own a crockpot and yes, it is fantastic.)

When I got home I was actually looking forward to cooking. Michael greeted me with a big smile and a kiss and the dog showered me with kisses. After dinner Michael met up with some friends but I opted to stay home because I was tired.

But after realizing that Gilmore Girls was a repeat again, I decided lying on the couch would just not do.

So I cleaned.

As in vacuumed and straightened and scrubbed... and I think I have a serious problem because I actually enjoyed it.

A clean house is a happy house and who cares if I just vacuumed on Sunday? Right?

So it got me thinking. But the truth is, I'd probably be bored. Sure, being a freelance writer (yeah, I'd still write) with lots of free time sounds glamorous, but would I really want to do it everyday? Probably not.

Unless I was a lady who lunches. Because that would be fun.

Because Reading Is Good For The Mind

2007-01-09T14:50:00.000-05:00

Every day I receive about 40 emails from a service that compiles topics that writers are working on and gives them access to possible sources (like me.) Basically, if the topic applies to my work, I respond.

On average I read through hundreds of topics each day ranging from financial to health to business. And every now and then a topic jumps out at me as really weird. So for your enjoyment, I've compiled some of my favorites from the last two days. With comments. Of course.

And remember, these are topics for articles you might very well read one day. By real writers. In real publications.

Fabulous Funerals
I don't know about you, but I wouldn't usually catagorize a funeral as fabulous. What makes a funeral fabulous? Do you have to make a special request to have a fabulous funeral? It there going to be a special on E! about fabulous funerals? Because I'm not going to lie, I might watch it. And how do I make sure that my own funeral will be fabulous?

Female Facial Hair
Not quite as captivating as Fabulous Funerals and to be honest I'm not sure I'd want to read this article. Maybe it's because I'm not a sufferer of female facial hair. Maybe it's because there's a thousand and one commercials for ways to get rid of it! Forever! Or maybe it's because I find it hard to believe someone could devote a whole article to the topic.

Companies That Engage Employees With Words
As opposed to engaging us with pictures and candy and shiny things and puppies. Ooooooh soft puppy. Must work harder....

Daddy Lit
Like Chick Lit? For dads? So instead of a novel about a sexy and single girl in the city it's about...? Dads? Do men want to read this?

Self Esteem and Girls: Overcoming the Curse
The Curse! If only someone had written an article when I was in middle school about my self esteem and how I could overcome the Curse. If only! My whole life could have been different. And such wisdom I could have passed on about the Curse! In fact, the Curse would become only an urban legend that we told our own children. "You think you have it bad? When I was your age I had to walk five miles to school in the snow with no shoes and I WAS CURSED!"

Recruiting New Nuns
Is this a how-to guide? In case I wanted to recruit my own nuns? And once recruited, could we do fun things, like make an all-nun softball team?

Male Attorney Fashions
Because when picking my attorney, the most important thing is who he's wearing. I will settle for nothing less than Prada.

How to be OK Without Being Nice
Now this I would read. How to be OK Without Being Nice...To Your Future Mother In Law.

Little Luxuries

2007-01-08T10:56:00.000-05:00

Once a day: Warm flannel sheets, a piece of good dark chocolate, deciding what shoes to wear, rich and fragrant shea butter lotion, playing with the dog, cozying with Michael.

Once a week: A soy chai latte, carpooling with a good friend, Gilmore Girls, a glass of good wine, mid-week martinis with Jen.

Once a month: Massage therapy appointment, a new pair of shoes, bargain hunting at Marshalls, New York style pizza.

Once every six weeks: Hair appointment.

Once a year: Anniversary dinner, a big shopping splurge on clothes for the next season, (OK, so maybe that's twice a year...) sorority reunion, Mom's Thanksgiving dinner, toasting the new year.

What are your little luxuries? Go ahead, I love comments.

Why I Hate Doing Laundry

2007-01-07T21:06:00.000-05:00

A photo essay:

So, I hate doing laundry. Hate. It. With a passion. There are many reasons I hate doing laundry, which include the carrying, the sorting, the folding and the putting away. Wait, isn't that everything that is involved in doing laundry? Oh yeah, that's right. I hate it all.

I am not proud to admit this, but we kind of let the pile grow a little too long. Or rather, a little too high. So I think to myself, wouldn't it be easier to carry if I put it in the upright basket?

Oh, God. I think it just multiplied. Or tripled. Is that seriously all our laundry? Kill me now.

You might think that would be the worst of it. But you would think wrong. Because when your house was built in 1900, the luxury of a laundry room does not exist. Oh no. The washer and dryer? They're in the basement. How do you get to the basement? You go outside. And open the bulkhead and walk down the most treacherous stairs ever carrying the above monstrosity.

OK. Made it down without falling or bruising my shin. Perhaps the task will look easier once I've sorted the clothes.

No. It does not. And yes, I have literally just aired my dirty laundry in front of the world.

(Hours later) This is all that remains of my entire afternoon of laundry. And I know where Michael's t-shirts go. I just can't bring myself to deal with one more piece of laundry.

Ugh. That was awful. Have I mentioned I hate doing laundry?

Dreamer

2007-01-03T10:12:00.000-05:00

I had the strangest dreams last night. And I know you probably don't want to hear about my dreams, but it's my blog. So there.

The first dream was awful.

I dreamt Michael and I lived in this big house and we had a cat. We went out somewhere and when we returned we ran into a couple on the street. They had greasy hair and both looked like they were on some serious drugs. We started to walk by them and the guy pulled my arm and said with an evil sneer, "sorry about your cat."

The next thing I know we're in the house and everything is ransacked and for some reason I'm concerned that they went through my underwear drawer. Michael goes in the backyard and tells me not to come out. I go anyway and there is a bonfire. I never actually see it, but I know the cat is in it.

Weird. Creepy. Scary. What the hell? I have no idea where that came from.

The second dream...I know exactly where that came from. Last night before bed I was on the computer looking at rings. Yes, rings. So shoot me.

Michael asked me to go outside with him. It was snowing and beautiful and he had a box in his hand and I thought, "this is it!" He handed me the box and when I opened it there was about a dozen bands and fake diamonds in all shapes and sizes. I was supposed to assemble my dream ring with the pieces and show him the finished product. He told me once I was finished he would send away for it and the company would FedEx the real thing.

I remember being so disappointed because now it wasn't going to be a surprise.

Seriously, what did I eat before bed?

2007

2007-01-02T11:53:00.000-05:00

Happy 2007! Ignoring the fact that the entire left side of my face was stuffed up and phlegm was collecting in my lungs for days, (mmm, nice) this weekend was great. Boobeski showed up on Saturday and we headed out for a day of shopping with Jen.

Sunday started with more shopping (I bought shoes. Surprised? I'm allowed...it was birthday weekend,) followed by a birthday dinner with us and Michael. Then in typical girly fashion, we took almost two hours to get ready to go out. Poor Michael was bombarded with estrogen and makeup and hair products until he retreated to the couch to watch some television.

My friend Margaret and her boyfriend showed up just in time to go out and we all headed to a local bar. The rest of the night was so much fun...good drinks, good company and a ton of hilarious pictures.

I said goodbye to 2006 with a champagne toast and the sweetest kiss from the man I love. (Saaaaaappy! Yeah, yeah. I know.) It was a wonderful birthday.

Now it's back to work after 10 days of vacation. Of course it's a very short week because my family is coming tomorrow night. So I can't really complain.

I got a few phone calls and a couple of hand-grabs from various people asking "Where's the ring?" In the back of my mind I had hoped it would happen by my birthday, until Michael and I talked about it on the way home from NY. He didn't want me to get my hopes up for a New Year's surprise because he knows me and he knows that if it didn't happen I wouldn't be able to hide my disappointment. So he told me flat out. Not this week.

I was bummed for a little bit until I realized that it's too predictable anyway. He's always saying he knows I want to be surprised so why would he do it when I was expecting it? And he asked me to show him what kind of rings I like...which I did. Immediately. So I'm taking that as a good sign.

So no, I was not disappointed that I didn't ring in 2007 with something sparkly on my hand. Because 2006 was a really great year. And I think 2007 is going to be even better.

(Snuggling at the bar? What can I say...he smells really good.)

Back

2006-12-29T14:09:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-23T18:10:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-12-22T09:25:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-21T14:39:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-20T09:54:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-19T10:55:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-18T11:48:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-12-15T10:32:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-14T09:49:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-13T10:37:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-13T09:27:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-12T11:12:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-11T11:12:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-08T13:47:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-07T11:42:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-06T10:32:00.000-05:00

* 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

2006-12-05T10:17:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-12-04T11:14:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-30T20:24:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-30T10:25:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-29T09:15:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-28T10:00:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-27T10:02:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-22T09:50:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-21T15:28:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-20T12:07:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-20T10:48:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-17T09:56:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-16T10:04:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-11-15T09:58:00.000-05:00

- 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?

2006-11-14T12:39:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-13T10:44:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-10T11:21:00.000-05:00

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)

2006-11-09T09:45:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-08T10:10:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-07T11:24:00.000-05:00

* 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!