Can't I Have It Both Ways?

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!

Just What I Needed

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

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

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

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.

Sugar High

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.

The Cold Has...

- 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.

Thanks

Dear New Guy,

You're outnumbered 4:2.

Please put the seat down.

Thanks.

Pen Pal

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.

Ladies Who Lunch

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

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.

In the Last 24 Hours...

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

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

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

**Hanging head in shame**

Lesson Learned

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

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

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

Thank goodness for Clorox wipes.

O Christmas Tree

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

Lobster Madeira Vol-Au-Vent

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

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

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

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

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

So good.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

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

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

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

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

Thank goodness for space heaters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Randomness

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

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

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

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

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

Thoughts, anyone?

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

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

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

*16 days till Thanksgiving! Yum!

Seeing Stars

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

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

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

The planetarium.

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

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

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

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

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

A Hairy Situation

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

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

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

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

HOWEVER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sigh.

There Is Cause For Concern

When the work kitchen....


....smells like toilet.