Beth in New York City

Time for a new start...

2011-09-22T22:07:00.002-04:00

Well, my friends... I know it's been a while since I've posted. I've hesitated starting blogging here again, since, well, I am no longer in the big city!

As such, it only seemed appropriate to start another blog elsewhere. Big life changes and I'm starting many things anew.... care to join me for the journey?

Here's my new site... looking forward to seeing you there: http://bethaleen.blogspot.com/

Isn't that dangerous?

2011-04-14T17:34:00.007-04:00

. (Digging out some old blog material I never published. This one's from January, 2007)

Last night, after working a particularly grueling 13-hour day and anticipating an early call and stressful morning today, I arrived home at about 8:30pm, totally wired. It was too late to go to karate and I was too cabin crazy to stay in and do a workout video. (Plus, I try to do my embarrassing workout videos during the day, when the naked gay couple across the street are less likely to stare at me while I gyrate in bizarre motions alone in my living room.)

So last night, I decided to go for a run. Overlooking for a moment the fact that it was 'snowing' (I use that term loosely since it was mostly ice chunks and rain), and that it was about 36 degrees outside, I'd been cooped up in an overheated office with overheated workmates for too long and needed to vent some energy and get some air, even if it was frozen air. I live in midtown Manhattan, on the East Side - what's considered a very safe neighborhood (or, as safe as it can be with millions of people literally living on top of one another).

The few times that I've actually run in my neighborhood, I prefer to run north on Park Avenue because of the wide sidewalks (that are well-kept) and minimal pedestrian traffic. Third Avenue is more convenient, but the pedestrian density in front of the popular after-work bars is often challenging to navigate, and the twisting and dodging risks a broken ankle or full-body impact with someone who's had too many beers. Ew. Lexington has the shops and tourists who believe that walking down the street with their eyes closed is a good idea. And riding the subway to Central Park to run at night is just dumb.

I also have it worked out that 20 blocks is approximately a mile, so I can also easily keep track of how far I've gone. And overall, Park Ave. is a pretty good route that is only plagued with some slight inclines around 68th street - but it only lasts about two or three blocks.

Of course, the last few times I've had the bizarre urge to go running, I went during the day. This was the first time I was going to jog at night, and honestly, I thought nothing about it. Until I called the elevator. When I got in, I asked the doorman if he could hold on to my key, because I was going running. And I told him my route - go up Park Ave, and then come back down Park Ave. At least this way, someone will know where I am, right? (See? I'm not totally clueless.)

To this commentary, my doorman looked me up and down (in my uber-baggy ripped sweatpants, lint-laden hoodie, bad-hair-inducing wool cap, and super-cozy and super-unstylish mittens) and said to me worriedly "Do you think that's safe?"... and then, before I could reply, he shook his head and said, "Oh, never mind. You'll be fine. You take karate."

I take karate. And therefore it's okay for me to be on Park Avenue alone on a Tuesday at 8:30pm in my sweatpants with uber-ugly hat hair. And if I didn't take karate, would it be unacceptable? It's a compliment, I think, for people to be watching out for you and telling you to be careful... and that they worry enough about you to warn you of what they think may be unsafe situations. But the interaction got me thinking... what if I didn't take karate? Would I therefore be unsafe? More or less at risk?

I kept track of who I passed along the way. There was a fine selection of upper-East-side fare, including the puttering mini-grannies with their matching mini-dogs; the dapper couples out for a stroll after dinner in long furs and clippy-clop high heels; groups of businessmen finishing up post-work networking cocktails, walking in long-wool-dress-coat herds towards a subway or Grand Central to tardily join in the commute; a few boxed-up homeless folks that were sleeping in stair alcoves in front of churches. So far no one who deserved any karate-chopping.

I did pass two other runners, and we nodded at one another, acknowledging that a) we were committed to our health, and b) we were stupid idiots to be running in the freezing rain. The only people that actually said anything directly to me were the more-than-a-few doormen standing bundled in front of East Side high-rises and hotels who told me to "go for it" or asked me "who are you racing?" One guy in front of the Bentley car display window asked - as I passed - if I could buy him a car. (I told him I'd forgotten my wallet.)

But heck, there aren't even any bars on Park Avenue for drunkards to come out of and bother people. It's just not that kind of Avenue.

But after running for a few dozen blocks, I couldn't help but realize that if someone came up behind me with their mind set on clocking me over the back of the head with a tire iron, no amount of karate training could possibly do anything about it. After all, if I'm unconscious on the pavement at 72nd street and Park Ave., karate isn't going to do much to help me out. Perhaps there would be a few puzzled faces at my funeral saying things like "It's too bad they never taught her any moves when it came to people attacking her from behind with a tire iron on Park Avenue" or speaking in low tones saying, "Which karate studio did she go to? I hope her family gets a refund...")

But this really comes down to my observations about 'safety' in New York City. Sure, there are some truly stupid things to do, like taking out your wallet and counting your twenties on the subway at 3am. Or picking a fight with a man who is muttering nonsensical profanities on a street corner. Or trying to jump a taxi line by going 1/2 a block further up from the person that's been trying to flag a cab for 15 minutes. Now those are the ways to get hurt in NYC.

(Not that I want to seem insensitive to those who do get into trouble, like the woman who was raped in her apartment last week. I am certainly aware of these things as a single woman in New York, and I think here, one is more cautious purely out of habit. After all, when someone approaches you on the street in New York City and says "How are you today?", the first reaction is "What do you want, and why did you pick me, and if I ignore you will you go away? And if not, I can claim self defense, you know." If this happened in pretty much any other part of the country, the response would more likely be, "Fine, how are you?" It's just the way the city works.)

But the true threat comes from the taxis running yellow lights, and potholes that can suck you and your ankles down faster than quicksand in the Amazon basin, and the buses who apparently think that pedestrians have point-values in some twisted video game. There are the few people who try to "get out of your way" by dodging right into your path, or the tourists who stop short in front of you to do some window shopping.

Running at night as rather satisfying, knowing that you're ending your day with something healthy, and allowing yourself to vent out the frustrations of the day by sweating a little bit. I found the whole experience rather soothing, to be honest.

All in all, the most terrifying part of my evening run was when one woman at a corner nearly poked my eye out... with her umbrella. But there was nary a tire iron to be found... and I was looking.

On a plus side of the training regimen, adding a bit of paranoia and fear to your running routine does up your pace a little.

Rep. Chris Lee In A 3-Hour Flash Scandal

2011-02-17T14:32:00.005-05:00

Rep. Chris Lee In A 3-Hour Flash Scandal

By Beth Ameen, February 11, 2011 8:23 pm
Guest post for Jazz Guns Apple Pie

Representative Chris Lee (R-N.Y.) resigned from the House of Representatives this week following an email flirtation with a woman he met after responding to an ad in the “Women Seeking Men” section of Craigslist. Sadly for him, the woman also knows how to use Google to look up people’s names, and how to send emails to Gawker.

And while it’s remarkable what 24 hours can do to damage the life of a politician with high libido, low impulse control and a camera phone, I want to – instead – look at one particular sentence that the Washington Post wrote in their article covering the incident:

“The familiar cycles of a Washington sex scandal were compressed into a blur of tweets and news alerts.”

This sentence is remarkable to me in so many ways. Take the first part: “The familiar cycles of a Washington sex scandal…” Can you feel the fatigue in that sentence? The implied “here we go again” sigh? The list of scandals pepper the headlines of the past: The obvious Clinton-Lewinsky saga, Newt Gingrich’s affair with aide Callista Bisek, Elliot Spitzer’s foray into, well, whatever it was. And just recently, new allegations about Speaker John Boehner having multiple affairs (reported by The Enquirer, but possibly coming closer to being printed in a more reputable news source soon.)

But even the San Francisco Chronicle’s online version of Lee’s recent misbehaviors asks of the many scandals, “Is anyone keeping count?” The answer is, yes. We are. The same way we keep track of celebs who are dragged to rehab time after time. There’s an equal mixture of distain and train-wreck-curiosity that simultaneously makes us want more juicy details (Are there more photos? More women?) while also claiming we’re above it all.

Let’s also take the second part of the Post’s sentence: “…compressed into a blur of tweets and news alerts.” Within hours, the man’s dalliances were posted on thousands of websites, and tweeted relentlessly (not without some humor, mind you: “cellphone camera is the worst thing to happen to men with bad impulse control”). The story broke at noon, and by 3pm, he had resigned. That is astounding to me. Pre-Internet news, this would have taken weeks to formulate and resolve itself. Now, a man’s career is over in 3 hours (barring any further revelations, which I have an inkling might be lurking somewhere in Rep. Lee’s email box.)

So, as another politician’s sex scandal flashes through the headlines, this time it’s not the weeks-long-affair (no pun intended) of news days gone by. Within hours, it’s published, denied and verified. Capitulations are made, leading to the astoundingly rapid resignation of a rising politician. The news cycle gets faster and faster, thanks to emailed photos, online news distribution, fast-forward Twittering, email tracking, Google, and Gawker. This was the 3-hour flash scandal. Do I hear 3 minutes?

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t over. The former Rep. Lee will definitely write a book, possibly get a divorce, and may even be offered a talk show on a cable news network depending on his level of charisma. He may even make his lie come true and become – as he stated in his emails – a lobbyist.

Then again, maybe it’s better if he just disappears. The statement on his website,“I have made profound mistakes,” leaves me – and undoubtedly a thousand tabloid reporters – asking one question: Why is the word “mistakes” plural?

You can follow Beth on her blog and on Twitter.

Suburban warfare - it begins

2010-11-19T11:36:00.002-05:00

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I just moved to the suburbs two months ago, and I am already planning the first war with the neighbors.

Apparently in suburbia, when you rake your leaves, you put them in big brown bags and then place them near the road for the city to pick up during designated days. My new house is lucky - I have woods in the back so that I can dump them there without bagging. Yay!

The neighbors aren't so lucky. Boo. So they filled up about 10-15 huge bags and then proceeded to leave them for pickup... on OUR lawn. Not just touching the border, but on the grass. Now, I'm not a suburban expert yet, but I know this much: This is Not. Cool. Border disputes can cause serious casualties. Just ask Europe or Asia.

This current infarction comes after months of (illegally) parking in front of (and sometimes on) our lawn instead of in their driveway, so we already dislike them and may - I admit - be a bit biased towards them.

As such, I have devised several potential options for handling the leaf-bag situation. Please feel free to vote or write in alternate candidates if you feel so moved:

1. Asking them nicely to move their trash off our lawn (ugh, that's SO yawn. I live in NYC - I prefer the passive-aggressive approach. Or just the aggressive one.)

2. Returning the leaves to their original positions...spread out in a nice, even layer all over their lawn. This is most effective if done the night before the town's pickup schedule date. (Downside: time consuming and would have to be done in wee hours of the night.)

3. Stacking the bags around or on top of their illegally parked cars, sandbag-style, so they have to move them to get into or drive their cars. (I like this one best so far.)

4. Moving the bags in front of their house's doors so they are blockaded in. (Fire hazard, but not sure I care.)

5. Stuffing tailpipes of said cars with tightly-packed, wet wads of said leaves. (Might be too subtle, and unreliable results may nix this one.)

6. Krazy-glue leaves all over said cars (very effective, but may have unwanted legal ramifications).

Hmmm... now that I think about it, this may be how the whole Hatfield/McCoy thing started...I am not sure, but I would sympathize with them if it was.
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Sweater shopping FAIL

2010-11-10T17:14:00.003-05:00

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I went shopping for a sweater today. what a stupid experience. I saw a sweater in the window that I really liked. I'm not often an impulsive buyer, so I have seen it there for a few weeks, and today I decided to buy it.

I went inside, searched, and was unable to find it in the vast array of clothing racks... so I asked a salesperson for some assistance...

me: hi! do you see that sweater in the window?
her: yes.
me: do you have any of those i can try on? I can't seem to find them in the store.
her: let me check. (she checks) looks like we're out of those.
me: oh, bummer. how about the one in the window? what size is that?
her: medium.
me: oh! can i buy that one?
her: no.
me: um. why not?
her: it's in the window.
me: can you take it out of the window?
her: we take it out when the windows are changed.
me: but it's right there... i can touch it. it's not hard to get to.
her: no. you can't have it. it's in the window.
me: so... you have a sweater, in stock, that i want to buy... but you're refusing to sell it to me? i just want to get that straight...
her: um... well... it's in the window...
me: you realize that makes no sense, right?
her: it's in the window....
me: nevermind. goodbye....

You know, I never really liked that sweater anyway. So there.
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On this election day...

2010-11-02T16:32:00.006-04:00

Yes, I voted. No, I'm not crazy.

And in honor of this this amazing right that I have to vote in my country, I would like to bring you some of the best signs that were displayed at the "Rally to Restore Sanity" on Oct. 20th. (thanks to Huffington Post)

Drowning doesn't look like drowning

2010-07-08T15:39:00.003-04:00

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This is reposted without permission from the following site: http://mariovittone.com/2010/05/154/

Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning

by Mario on May 18, 2010

The new captain jumped from the cockpit, fully dressed, and sprinted through the water. A former lifeguard, he kept his eyes on his victim as he headed straight for the owners who were swimming between their anchored sportfisher and the beach. “I think he thinks you’re drowning,” the husband said to his wife. They had been splashing each other and she had screamed but now they were just standing, neck-deep on the sand bar. “We’re fine, what is he doing?” she asked, a little annoyed. “We’re fine!” the husband yelled, waving him off, but his captain kept swimming hard. ”Move!” he barked as he sprinted between the stunned owners. Directly behind them, not ten feet away, their nine-year-old daughter was drowning. Safely above the surface in the arms of the captain, she burst into tears, “Daddy!”

How did this captain know, from fifty feet away, what the father couldn’t recognize from just ten? Drowning is not the violent, splashing, call for help that most people expect. The captain was trained to recognize drowning by experts and years of experience. The father, on the other hand, had learned what drowning looks like by watching television. If you spend time on or near the water (hint: that’s all of us) then you should make sure that you and your crew knows what to look for whenever people enter the water. Until she cried a tearful, “Daddy,” she hadn’t made a sound. As a former Coast Guard rescue swimmer, I wasn’t surprised at all by this story. Drowning is almost always a deceptively quiet event. The waving, splashing, and yelling that dramatic conditioning (television) prepares us to look for, is rarely seen in real life.

The Instinctive Drowning Response – so named by Francesco A. Pia, Ph.D., is what people do to avoid actual or perceived suffocation in the water. And it does not look like most people expect. There is very little splashing, no waving, and no yelling or calls for help of any kind. To get an idea of just how quiet and undramatic from the surface drowning can be, consider this: It is the number two cause of accidental death in children, age 15 and under (just behind vehicle accidents) – of the approximately 750 children who will drown next year, about 375 of them will do so within 25 yards of a parent or other adult. In ten percent of those drownings, the adult will actually watch them do it, having no idea it is happening (source: CDC). Drowning does not look like drowning – Dr. Pia, in an article in the Coast Guard’s On Scene Magazine, described the instinctive drowning response like this:

Except in rare circumstances, drowning people are physiologically unable to call out for help. The respiratory system was designed for breathing. Speech is the secondary or overlaid function. Breathing must be fulfilled, before speech occurs.
Drowning people’s mouths alternately sink below and reappear above the surface of the water. The mouths of drowning people are not above the surface of the water long enough for them to exhale, inhale, and call out for help. When the drowning people’s mouths are above the surface, they exhale and inhale quickly as their mouths start to sink below the surface of the water.
Drowning people cannot wave for help. Nature instinctively forces them to extend their arms laterally and press down on the water’s surface. Pressing down on the surface of the water, permits drowning people to leverage their bodies so they can lift their mouths out of the water to breathe.
Throughout the Instinctive Drowning Response, drowning people cannot voluntarily control their arm movements. Physiologically, drowning people who are struggling on the surface of the water cannot stop drowning and perform voluntary movements such as waving for help, moving toward a rescuer, or reaching out for a piece of rescue equipment.
From beginning to end of the Instinctive Drowning Response people’s bodies remain upright in the water, with no evidence of a supporting kick. Unless rescued by a trained lifeguard, these drowning people can only struggle on the surface of the water from 20 to 60 seconds before submersion occurs.

(Source: On Scene Magazine: Fall 2006)

This doesn’t mean that a person that is yelling for help and thrashing isn’t in real trouble – they are experiencing aquatic distress. Not always present before the instinctive drowning response, aquatic distress doesn’t last long – but unlike true drowning, these victims can still assist in their own rescue. They can grab lifelines, throw rings, etc.

Look for these other signs of drowning when persons are in the water:

Head low in the water, mouth at water level
Head tilted back with mouth open
Eyes glassy and empty, unable to focus
Eyes closed
Hair over forehead or eyes
Not using legs – Vertical
Hyperventilating or gasping
Trying to swim in a particular direction but not making headway
Trying to roll over on the back
Ladder climb, rarely out of the water.

So if a crew member falls overboard and every looks O.K. – don’t be too sure. Sometimes the most common indication that someone is drowning is that they don’t look like they’re drowning. They may just look like they are treading water and looking up at the deck. One way to be sure? Ask them: “Are you alright?” If they can answer at all – they probably are. If they return a blank stare – you may have less than 30 seconds to get to them. And parents: children playing in the water make noise. When they get quiet, you get to them and find out why.

NPR on the train

2010-04-29T14:46:00.002-04:00

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I note of advice to everyone - don't combine NPR and a train ride. Here's why:

I was listening to "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" (the podcast) on my iPod last week. For those of you who don't know, it's a comedic game show of sorts, which airs on NPR. It features various columnists and other news junkie celebrities talking about the events of the past week. It's hysterically funny in a nerdy, NPR-geek kind of way - think Jon Stewart only without all of the words requiring bleeps.

It's a funny, funny, show. And I laugh at it regularly. Sometimes, I even laugh out loud, but usually it's a chuckle and I try to restrain myself from making too many overt snorts.

During some portions of the shows, they have call-in contestants - listeners who answer questions about what was in the news in the last week. Sometimes, it's obvious stuff. Sometimes, it's not.

During one call-in segment, I was listening to someone who didn't know the answer to the question...and he should have known! (I would tell you what the questions / answers were, but then you'd inevitably label me a news snob. I'm okay with the label of "news junkie", but "news snob" is too much.) He had three questions, and got all of them wrong. It was heartbreakingly sad - if you call a news show, you should at least watch a little news that week. During the final question, when he said he didn't know, I was fed up with him, and sighed, rolled my eyes, and I flung a general look of exasperation.

Usually, I laugh at the show, and fellow riders either move away from me (thinking I'm out of my mind) or chuckle at me (realizing I'm laughing at something I'm listening to.)

However, on this particular occasion, as I was rolling my eyes and making a distinct look of much disgust (at the caller), a perfectly nice gentleman was taking the seat next to me. As such perfect timing goes in these types of situations, he caught the full brunt of my eye-roll at the exact moment that he was sitting, and incorrectly assumed that I was passing judgement on himself for sitting!

Realizing this faux-pas, I laughed out loud (now he thinks I'm nuts) and took my ear buds out. I apologized immediately, and explained to him that I was listening to a radio show, and my look of disgust was definitely NOT meant to be flung willy nilly only to land in his direction! He laughed and said "Wow, thank goodness. I almost took that personally!"

The sum result is that a) I don't have a poker face. Never have. Never will. b) It's a dangerous combination, riding the train and listening to a comedy show at the same time. People might think that you're crazier than you really are.
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Online obsessions

2010-04-15T21:22:00.003-04:00

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Okay, I'll admit, I'm a Facebook fanatic. I'm not too crazy with the farms or fish, but I love the little voyeuristic peek into people's lives, and staying in touch with the people I love... it's awesome.

But I have a few other online distractions that maybe aren't as socially accepted as Facebook. So I thought I'd share some of the latest ones with you... none of these are obscene, so don't worry about that. Well, unless you count some foods as obscene... but I digress...

Chris Kimball's Blog:
Most of you know my obsession with Cook's Illustrated(and if you've never heard of it, trust me - it's awesome. Every recipe is perfect, directions are flawless, and it's totally unbiased. Love it!) The blog is even better - recipes, anecdotes, equipment reviews, tales from the test kitchen... this place is heaven, and Chris... well, he's just one truly awesome dude.

Stuff I Ate
Continuing the foodie theme, my most awesome friend & co-worker Lori has set up the Stuff I Ate blog, a great collection of insider NYC food tips, and some recipes that blow your mind, categorized under titles like "Recession recipes" and "Comfort Food". Her recipe for kale chips is to DIE for - and I hate kale! She also has the exact same camera that I do, and yet she can take photos of food that make your mouth water, while mine make food look like I pulled it out of the dumpster outside. Lori, I bow to your foodie-ness, and your food-photo abilities! (pass the kale.)

On the flip side, if you're looking for inspiration to stick to your diet, here's your new favorite site: This is why you're fat. It's pictures, submitted by fans of the site, of the most fattening, horrifying, calorie-and-fat-laden foods available all over the country. Dishes like the Flatline Burger (Double bacon cheeseburger with peanut butter deep fried and served with two sides of chipotle mayo), Cheetos coated in strawberry glaze, and The Chimmy-Dean (a pork sausage wrapped in a flour tortilla and deep fried, topped with maple syrup, bacon pieces and cool whip.) Yep, that's definitely why you're fat. It even includes a link to my next favorite food obsession:

Peepshi:
The world of marshmallow Peeps meets the world of sushi... to create, Peepshi. The "rice" is Rice Krispy Treats, the "fish" is Peeps, the decor is... I'm not sure, maybe strawberry licorice? I don't know but it's kinda strange and cool looking. I wouldn't eat it... but it might blow up nicely in a microwave.

LOLdogs and LOLcats
Hysterically cute, sappily captioned amateur photos of dogs, puppies, cats, and kittens. It's almost as bad as Daily Squee for over-the-top, girlie, gooey cuteness that most males will avoid like the plague. Only go here if you are a) ready to admit you like cheezy cute sites, and b) not embarrassed by cheezy cute sites. Even the people who make comments use their own funny "LOLspeak" language. Awesome? Ur doin it rite.

Rules of the roads

2010-04-15T09:17:00.003-04:00

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There's been quite a dramatic shift in the traffic patterns of NYC in the last year, and I have to say, it's really throwing me off kilter.

I can deal with the 4-wheel traffic - the uneasy relationship between pedestrians and cars/trucks has struck a kind of agreement in the last oh, 50 years of psychotic driving in NYC. Cars agree not to run over me when I'm crossing the street, I agree to (mostly) avoid crossing the street completely against the lights. Even jaywalking is acceptable, as long as the block before you is stopped at a light, and the only oncoming traffic is that turning onto your street. (Those of you that live here, you get what I'm saying.)

Very rarely do pedestrians and vehicles clash openly, unless a) there's a tourist (driving) who believes that they have the right of way when turning (you don't), or b) there's a tourist who tries to jaywalk (Hint: Don't. It takes years to perfect.)

The issue I'm starting to have is with 2-wheeled vehicles. Bikes - I'm talkin' to you.

I've seen a bike take out a pedestrian walking (with a "Walk" sign) in Central Park. And when I say "take out", I mean blood dripping from a head wound and broken bones. Not cool. I will admit that some pedestrians are rather thick when it comes to crossing the street, but dear bicyclists, a red light means "stop" for you, too. I don't care if you're training for a race, timing your laps around the park, or wearing minuscule matching spandex - God gave you brakes, use them when the light is red. If you do that, I will happily take full blame when you hit me at full force when I try to stupidly walk across the path in front of you while you're sailing downhill in Central Park.

The uneasy relationship breaks down further on the new bike paths around the city roads (i.e. Broadway).

NYC pedestrians are trained to observe light patterns, walk sign patterns (I know exactly at what point in the blinking "Don't Walk" phase I can make it, and when I can't.) But now, on Broadway and other streets, there's a new bike lane, with it's own set of lights! Retraining us concrete-brained pedestrians to unlearn the habits of crossing the streets is difficult...and dangerous.

I apologize to the several bicyclists that I didn't see and stepped out in front of. I'll admit it - I deserved those choice words you shouted at me. And that Evil Eye that I gave you was purely a knee-jerk reaction that I give to everyone - nothing personal.

But at the same time, most of the time, the bikes don't stop at red lights anyway, and come barrelling down those bike lanes with the wrath of God behind them. Once, I even heard a lady shouting "Get out of the way!" at the top of her lungs as she ran her bike lane's red light. Her red light was even shaped like a bicycle. It's a light for illiterates. Did her brakes burn out, like those runaway trucks on highways? I doubt it. Here's a hint - if you hit me, it'll hurt both of us, no matter how loudly you're yelling. Slow down (especially when you're legally required to do so) and we'll both be happier.

It's going to take a while, and now that the MTA is cutting off subway lines, I'm hoping that more bicyclists will take to the streets. But I'm also hoping that we can decide, together, that we can get along a little better. I promise to (for the first time in 15 years) try to look BOTH WAYS before I cross a one-way street, if you promise to STEER with your handlebars, and USE THE BRAKES instead of cuss words when something happens in front of you.

Can you imagine if, when a car sped towards an idiot crossing the street and not looking where they were going, all the driver did was yell "Hey moron, move!" and just kept going at the same rate of speed? Can you say road pizza? Do you see where I'm going here?

You are moving at approximately 20-30mph. If you hit me, it will suck, mostly because you will *keep moving* at approximately 20-30mph until the pavement halts your flight through the air as I keep your bike tangled around my legs about 10 feet behind you. Pavement and you - it's going to hurt.

Take a lesson from the bike messengers around the city. Learn to steer, learn to brake, and learn to dodge. Yelling won't help, nor will it slow you down or steer you around your obstacle. That's what those things called "handlebars" are for.

Thanks, and have a nice day.
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Whoever said that there is no such thing as a stupid question never worked in media production.

2010-04-14T19:10:00.004-04:00

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It was 6pm when my work cell phone rang. As I'm at work by 5:30am every day, I try to finish up work by 3 or 4pm every day. A 6pm call is never good news...

"Hello, this is Beth"

"Hi there," (a very young, intern-like voice) "this is Amber, [name removed]'s assistant. I was just going over the details for tomorrow with [name removed]. It's at 7am?"

"Yep, 7am."

"That's 7am, Eastern time?"

"Yep, 7am Eastern time. I think I covered this in the logistics sheet I emailed to you a few weeks go, yes?"

"Do you realize that 7am Eastern is 4am on the West Coast?"

"Um, actually yes. Yes, I do know that." (and I'm thinking by the rather shocked tone in your voice that you did not realize this...until just a few minutes ago. I'm also thinking that you're right on the edge of a panic attack right now.)

"That's really early."

"Well, yes, yes it is. And that's why I sent the email 3 weeks ago to confirm that you were OK with the time. It didn't seem to be a problem then. Is it a problem now?"

"Well, um. It's just really early. I thought it was at 7am pacific time."

"Let me pull up the email that I sent. Yep, March 25th, I sent you the logistics and it says 7am eastern time. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Um. No. Well, okay. If it's a problem I'll call you back."

Now, I feel sorry for assistants, I really do. Especially those who are assistants for assistants for celebrities. I have worked with enough publicists, assistants, assistant assistants and celebrities to know what types of people you risk working for when you take on a job like that. Undoubtedly poor Amber was tasked with the menial job of typing up the final version of [name removed]'s schedule for the next day when she realized that it said...7am Eastern.

Now, I don't feel too badly for you when it's your own fault for not reading, but I do give you a speck of respect for realizing that there actually is a time difference between the East and West Coasts. And for what it's worth, I'm really sorry... that's a harsh lesson I'm sure you're learning the hard way on the other end of my silent phone. This will be a bad day for you, and you'll probably have a drink or three on Friday because of it. I honestly hope you don't get fired for spotting what no one else on your staff seemed to recognize three weeks ago.

Now it's 7:15pm...an hour after I received the call. I haven't heard anything at all from any assistants. But I'm assuming that in California, someone is getting yelled at, if not by [name removed], then by [name removed]'s higher-level assistant who had to break the news.

In any case, see you at 7am Eastern... (4am Pacific...)
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Bryce & Zion, 2009

2009-10-05T20:05:00.018-04:00

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Here are a few photos from my trip to Bryce & Zion National Parks. It was an adventure trip! Full of hiking and biking (and eating.)

The trip started with a bike ride... downhill... to the base of the mountain I was standing on when I took this photo. The red rolling rocks below are petrified sand dunes... we'll hike them later:
The first ride in Utah... downhill to the sand dunes:

Petrified sand dunes... hard as rock, but look like mounds of marshmallow... and red. Very cool:

Token tourist shot:

The "painted" rocks... the strata of oxidized and limestone rocks:

The non-petrified, normal sand dunes, made of sand! We know we're in the desert now!

Hiking up to see the red rocks later that afternoon...

Fall foliage on the morning bike ride:

On the overlook our morning bike ride down into Bryce:
The first glimpse of Bryce (on the right) from our hiking trail (on the left):

Our most awesome tour group: Michael, me, Peggy, Matty, and Lisa... arrive at Bryce:
Pretty views... many many more to come:

Some of the unique trees... this one's roots were exposed after erosion...

This tree is several thousands of years old... and "kills" off parts of itself when water & nutrients are scarce... very cool:

The next day we hike into Bryce itself...

Little tree... long roots...

Very red rocks, very blue sky...

Heading down down down...

And then back up to the top ridge again:
Little me, big canyon:
Windows in the rocks...
I love the trees here...

Littler me, bigger canyon...
Back up to the top rim, saying goodbye to Bryce...
One last arch, and then we leave for the ride to Zion.

Biking through Red Rock Canyon, on our way to Zion:

Our ride into Zion, we see the first glimpse of the Court of the Patriarchs... the three mounts known as Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Our first little hike in Zion...
Through caves... beautiful stuff:
Our guide, Matty, leads the way towards Angel's Landing... that's the peak in front of us. Time to go UP!
About half way up, a gorgeous view:

Matty picks up a hitchiker that rides all the way up to the peak:
We made it!
Well.. almost. Technically that over there is the top. But do you see that skinny part? I'm totally NOT hiking over THAT:
Our guides, Michael and Matty (and the hitchiker) surprise us with ice cream at the top! How cool is that?!
What goes up, must go down...
and down, down, down, down...
The next morning we headed for the Narrows hike. Rented special boots so we could hike through the water. The air is about 60 degrees, and the water is about 55...
...and that gets REALLY cold when it's this deep!

A waterfall. Not sure what we're celebrating exactly... but um, YAY!
Trying to warm up in the sun before it ducks behind the walls of the canyon:

We hike deeper and deeper into the Narrows. I try to keep a person in the photo so you can see the scale... can you spot the peoples?

We leave the Narrows and head back towards St. George. On the way, we have a gorgeous bike ride through the countryside:

moo....

A pit stop in a cave on the way shows us some thousands-year-old petroglyphs painted on the walls:

keep on rollin'
one last goodbye to Michael and Matty... bye bye!
our van and bikes... spent some quality time in / on these things!!
the flight back to NYC... we went right over the Grand Canyon:

The best dating story yet...

2009-08-11T15:15:00.007-04:00

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I've told some of you about the thong guy ("Please wear a thong on our first date - otherwise it just reminds me of my grandmother." Best response to this comment: "Only if you wear one, too.") I've even told some of you about the wine slurper (if my 9 year old nephew isn't allowed to slurp, neither are you, Mr. 41-Years-Old-and-Should-Know-Better.) And there's always the "surprise" date (unrecognizable man meets you for a drink... only unrecognizable because his online photo was 15 years, 40 pounds, and 68% more hair ago.)

But...I never expected a con artist.

Cute picture, a wink, a few emails, he travels a lot for a living... (but hates doing it alone... how endearing!) I noticed he dodged a few personal questions, but hey, whatever. He also dodged a drink date, because he was out of town...on a contract job... in Nigeria.

Hm. Nigeria.

A few days later, he's worried because his credit cards don't work and he's getting strapped for cash. And gosh darn, wouldn't you know it... I seem like such a nice person, could I help him out by sending him a few bucks? "I'll return the cash as soon as I'm back in town, I promise... and if you want to sign an agreement, that's totally fine, too."

Seriously?

People fall for this?

Dear ConnectMatthew at Match.com: "you want me to send money... to someone i've never met... in nigeria. you have *got* to be kidding. c'mon man... come up with something more creative. seriously."

(my sister said that I should have responded "Oh dude, I'm in Nigeria too! I was going to ask you for money in a few weeks!" or "OMG I have a huge trust I can borrow from in emergencies... how much do you need???" (and then never respond again.))

According to the interweb, sometimes they send flowers and gifts to their targets before asking them for money. My sister told me that only I would get the *cheap* con artist who didn't send anything before dropping the "i need money, honey" bomb.

So I call the dating company to tell them that they have a Nigerian con artist on their site. To which they respond (after asking how I know he's a con artist): "You can block his profile."

Me: Okay but his profile is no longer up.
Them: You can still block it.
Me: Okay... whatever. That's not the important part. What are you guys going to do about this?
Them: I'm going to file this report at the corporate office. For the record, you won't be receiving any further information about it.
Me: So, I'm not going to hear anything back?
Them: No, ma'am.
Me: So, you aren't going to shut down his account or anything?
Them: I'm filing a report with the corporate office.
Me: And what will they do?
Them: They'll look into it.
Me: (laugh) Okay... so, in reality, you're not actually going to do anything, are you?
Them: Sorry ma'am?
Me: (laugh again) Nevermind. Have a nice day.
Them: Thank you ma'am, you too. And thank you for subscri...
Me: (*click*)

Apparently they borrow photos from other places to use on their profiles. So sorry to whoever this *really* is... but if you see this guy on any dating sites, and he's heading to Nigeria... you may wanna watch your wallet.... or at least ask for some flowers and gifts first...

Blisters and charities...

2009-07-22T13:19:00.003-04:00

An email conversation with my sister:

Sister: Blisters are evil. Skin shouldn't just bubble up and fall off. Poor design.

Me: ROFL

Sister: I'll talk to God about it next time I'm in church. But I'm beginning to think that's not the sort of thing he's working on.

Me: priorities are irrelevant to dieties. it's not like God has time management issues.

Sister: I'm afraid he might just say FINE! I'll just start all over! and poof. We'll all be gone.

Me: at least then we won't have blisters.

In other news, I am running in a race! To raise moolah for breast cancer. This time it's a short race (only 5k, instead of the 39 mile insanity like last time.) So feel free to donate, or sign up and run with me! Click below:

Do you know anyone who....

2009-07-15T11:40:00.004-04:00

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My jobs have been odd. I'll be the first to admit it. But that's okay, since radio / tv are full of very odd things, it sort of comes with the territory. The more odd it is, the more shocking it is, the more off-beat it is, then the more people will likely watch. So I thought I'd step back in time a little bit to reminisce about some of the strangest email requests I've gotten from some of my colleagues requesting help....

Subject: help!
you guys know anyone who has been attacked by a shark? i'm putting a show together...

Subject: Looking for guests
Do you guys know an overweight woman dating a really skinny man? Or an obese man dating a really skinny woman? It's for next week. I'm desperate! So far, no one has been fat or skinny enough!!

Subject: My boss has lost his mind...help!!!
I'm not kidding. Today he asked me to find a married couple, with 2 kids (preferable a boy and a girl under the age of 6), living in a suburb, who are about to file for bankruptcy because of financial issues that started with them defaulting on their interest-only mortgage after one/both lost their jobs due to cutbacks. They have to be good looking, cute kids, not crazy people, within 50 miles of NYC, and able to stay home tomorrow for an all-day shoot at their house. And available to come into the studio on Friday for a live interview.

Oh, and since I'm not going to be sleeping for the next 3 days while I do this, please have them be able to make good coffee too.

Subject: Need guest: Free DNA testing!
Looking for someone who has a baby, but isn't sure who the father is. We'll provide free DNA testing if they agree to come on the show and talk about it. (Oh, and we do this often, so if you know more than one person, let me know.) Would be good if at least the mom or possible dads were decent-looking, too.

Subject: Looking for someone with Tourettes
Need someone with really bad case of Tourettes to be a guest on the show on Tuesday to talk about their condition. Would be great if they could make noises on cue instead of randomly.
(wow. that producer didnt' do much research on their topic, did they?)

Subject: Snakes?

Doing a segment on using hypnosis to cure phobias. Need 50 snakes, prefer non-venomous kind. Anyone have a lead for me?

Subject: Vegetarian foods that look like meat
Producing a segment for this weekend on vegetarian foods that look like meat. Like Tofurkey. Do you know a chef or someone who can work with this? Need them to style their own food, too. (Can't hire a food stylist, so they have to make it look good...and tofurkey looks weird enough already. I Googled it.)

Photo Class - my final portfolio

2009-07-10T16:59:00.006-04:00

These were the photos that I submitted as my final project for my photo class

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This was one of the rejects (it didn't work in the series)...but I still kinda like it:

A Tour of the High Line

2009-06-14T18:35:00.006-04:00

free association

2009-05-24T10:40:00.005-04:00

Fat ass day

2009-03-17T12:36:00.006-04:00

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I woke up this morning and realized - I'm having a fat ass day.

I then realized, I'm not.

It's funny, when you take an objective look at the subjective world of delusional days. Things like "fat ass" day... when you feel like parts of your body have ballooned (or in the case of "saggy boobs" day, shrunk) when it makes absolutely no sense that size has changed in the last 12 hours at all. After all, when I put on my pants this morning, they fit the same as they did when I took them off last night. My bra is no less empty on saggy boob day than regular day. My evening of restless sleep did not, in fact, cause my buttocks to swell or cleavage to diminish further in any way. And I know that if I had a scale in my house, I have no doubt that it would say the same number as it said yesterday.

Yet still, when I woke up this morning, I knew it was, without a doubt, a fat ass day.

It's the same lack of reasoning that belongs to many mental issues in this world. I find it distinctly funny when I have a huge pimple on my face, and someone compliments my skin (which never happens when I have no pimples, by the way.) Or when I'm having a "bad hair day" and no one notices that my hair is any different at all - and in fact, I would guess they'd probably say my hair looks exactly the same as it always does. In fact, I would also venture to guess that some people feel they are having a good hair days actually need to know that they, in fact, are definitely NOT (I'm thinking mostly tourists from the Midwest who forget that "feathers" thankfully went out with Farrah Fawcett TV shows and only belong on boas sported by cross-dressing men in the Village Halloween parade.)

I don't understand why this happens, or if it happens to most people at all. Maye it's just me being hyper analytical of a temporary spike in body image issues. Who knows. But when some days when I feel my skin is particularly gross looking, I'll get compliments, and on other days when I feel like I'm looking pretty good, no one notices (especially YOU, Mr. Hottie-who-orders-toasted-sesame-bagel-with-cream-cheese-at-Metro-Cafe-every-morning.)

I don't usually care - those of you that know me well know I don't obsess over these types of issues regularly. I find that is irrelevant, especially when it comes to the parts of the body that I don't even have to look at (my booty) especially when I know that most of it is psychological garbage. I do wish I could move things around a little sometimes (hell, I'm 36, what do you expect?), but not enough that I'm visiting plastic surgeons to see what gets to be pulled where.

So for now, put on the Spanx, ya'll... or just embrace the big booty day and be thankful that Beyonce has made it okay to be bootylicious... at least until tomorrow.

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Oh, and Happy St. Patrick's day! Or, as we NYCers call it... Amature Night. May your fake ID's hold up to scrutiny and your green beer not taste too bad the second time around.

Costa Rica

2009-03-02T18:39:00.006-05:00

The walk down to the dive shop:

The waterfall day:

Hiking back up from the waterfall...

The hot springs bar... Best. Bar. Ever.

The volcano...(squint, you might see it)

The street beggars:

The bird that tried to steal our breakfast... and failed.

Diving...

Tortuga!
Sunset

Monkeys by the ocean:

Black sand beaches:

white shell, black sand...

Socks...

2009-01-29T08:57:00.002-05:00

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Aaaah, New York City in January... when the grey city skyline is accentuated by the grey buildings, and the grey sidewalks and streets are streaked with the frozen grey water and the cars and building are covered in a grey film... and the people are all wearing black coats and dirty Ugg boots and there is no such thing as a good hair day because of the hats, scarves, and earmuffs... and any makeup is washed off by running sniffly noses and watery eyes caused by the winds whipping off the Hudson... not that makeup would matter anyway since scarves are wrapped up above the nose.

The huddled early morning commuters shuffle from subway exits down to the corner Starbucks, stand in line for overpriced coffees and then shuffle off to little offices... only to do the reverse shuffling trip later, not making eye contact, but simply concentrating on getting from point A to point B in minimal time with minimal exposure to the elements or other people.

The store windows are full of "still on sale!!" trying to get rid of the stock that didn't sell over the holidays and making room for clothing that anticipates spring too early, showing off scantily clad mannequins clad in flimsy fabrics that you can't wear for 5 more months unless you want frostbite in some rather sensitive places...

Yesterday, it snowed. And by snow, I mean...it snowed from about 3-6am, and then it sleeted, and then it rained. Which left a lovely mess of slippery, salty, sandy sidewalks all over NYC, with freezing cold puddles of muddy-grey water lapping at every crosswalk... one of which I ended up stepping into up to my ankle, filling my boot with a lovely mix of unidentifiable NYC washoff and making my sock so wet that I was accompanied by a very amusing squeaking-squashing sound with every step for the remainder of the day. I was literally laughing out loud walking down the street, since the alternative, really, was to cry.

(Why walk when there is a perfectly good subway system? Because delays on the subway were turning 20 minute commutes into 2 hour nightmares, so I figured walking was easier, if not more comfortable).

So in conclusion, it's time, ladies and gentlemen, for a vacation.

It's T-minus 23 days and counting to Costa Rica... a week of blue skies, bluer waters, diving, snorkeling, swimming, canopy riding, volcano-seeing, tropical bug-bitten days of bliss... where I can wake up *after* the sun rises for a change, and toss any offending alarm clocks off a bridge. There, a bathing suit, tshirt, flip flops and shorts are plenty to keep you "warm"... saving you a good 15 minutes of layering up with long johns, socks, boots, scarves, hats, gloves, coats, and sweaters before stepping outside...

Wanna come?
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President Obama

2009-01-20T12:46:00.001-05:00

What an absolutely amazing day.

Do you wanna date me?

2009-01-20T09:47:00.002-05:00

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Okay, so here's the deal. In the interest of cutting through some of the flak that comes with dating, I've decided to be brutally honest... so if you wanna date me, here's the real deal:

First off, I don't drink that much alcohol. I just don't... it's not that I don't enjoy a cold beer with a good burger or pizza sometimes, or a nice glass of wine with an aromatic pasta with meat sauce, and yes, I even like getting buzzed and giggly sometimes on "real" drinks, too. But, I don't do it often and I dont' drink that much. I like fruit juices and seltzer - how about a tequila sunrise sans the tequila? This doesn't mean that I don't like you, or that I don't want you to drink, or that I'm super-religiously-holier-than-thou, or that I don't know how to still have a pretty decently good time. It just means that I don't drink that much alcohol.

Second, I play video games. Yea, I'm a geek, nerd, whatever, but they're fun. Usually I like single-player adventure games, like the Myst series. I don't like things that jump and me and explode blood and gore all over my screen. But I've recently become addicted to World of Warcraft. I'm not addicted like South-Park-episode-addicted (I do have a normal job, friends and go out with people), but I do enjoy it. And this also doesn't mean that I can't carry on conversations about normal things, nor do I weigh 2,000 pounds and only eat Doritos and go to computer game conventions dressed up in ridiculous costumes. No, I just play it...and enjoy it. I just see it as more engaging than TV, and more interactive.

Third, I like skiing, but I don't LOVE skiing. That seems to be a big one lately... that just because you're single, in your thirties, and live in NYC, you *must love skiing*. Well, I have to say, it's highly OK. I'm not bad at it, I'm not good at it, but honestly, I'd rather spend a weekend driving up to Maine to see the coastline scenery, or take a nice weekend trip to Montreal, or go to Boston to visit the aquarium and do historical tours. This doesn't mean I'm not athletic or interested in activities - let's go white water rafting in July or sea kayaking in Florida, or snorkeling in Belize... but if it's snowing outside, I'd rather curl up with a good book, a warm fireplace, and a big, poofy comforter than hurl myself down a frigid mountainside with 2 thousand other crazy people with sticks tied to my feet.

Fourth, I do geeky things. I cross-stitch (my mom taught me); I taught myself how to crochet and don't quite know what to do with all the scarves I've made. I read Discovery magazine, Newsweek comics, and National Geographic instead of Cosmo. I watch very little TV, but when I do, it's usually documentaries or British in origin, or sci fi stuff like BSG. I hate wearing makeup, but put on undereye concealer and lip gloss every day cuz I'm getting older. I don't like shopping for clothes, and absolutely hate buying shoes (and won't wear heels except on very special occasions.) I'd much prefer to save my money for a trip to Peru or the Galapagos, or Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, New Zealand, Eastern Europe, Norway, Russia or the Amazon. I don't need room service, but I do prefer a warm bed; I don't require hand-holding, but I do prefer company; I do like adventures, but I don't like feeling unsafe.

So there's the skinny... some of the things that "normal" dating scene girls may not admit to, but having just turned 36, it's time that people who want to get serious start accepting me for who I am... or moving on to someone else. If you're still interested, I'll have a cranberry, OJ and seltzer, please.
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BBC TV

2009-01-02T13:30:00.003-05:00

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Those of you that know me know that I don't watch a lot of tv. But for the last few days, as I've been hangin' out in the apartment and painting / writing / cleaning / chore-doing, I have kept the TV on in the background. For a while it was on the music stations, then on CNN, and now for some reason, I've gotten stuck on BBC America.

First off, the news reports are far more interesting. But really, the British comedy and reality shows crack me up. "You Are What You Eat" where a psychotic dietitian invades overweight people's lives and insults and chastizes them into eating healthy veggies. She's a little psycho, and seems to obsess over people's digestive systems on a little bit of a disturbing level. But she gets results and makes me want to eat more veggies.

"How Clean Is Your House" does three things: First, it makes me feel better about how clean my house is, and second, makes me want to clean up more, and third, makes me feel very proud about my teeth (c'mon Britain, I'm sure there are plenty of dentists out there... pay 'em a visit, really!) Basically, two stuffy ladies invade filthy dirty homes, insult the residents, kick them out, and clean up after them. It's fabulously disgusting and liberating, and yesterday it made me pour baking soda and lemon juice into my bathtub... it's much better than the stinky cleaning stuff they sell on shelves.

The comedies are funny - there was a "Coupling" marathon on last night - which is a kind of version of "Friends" but with much sexier accents...and less snooty attitudes. Then there's "Kitchen Nightmares" which features famed asshole chef Gordon Ramsey intruding into failing restaurants and insulting the owners/chefs/staff into straightening up their act and - in the end - saving the day.

I'm sure once work starts up again, I won't watch much tv any more. It's not one of my pseudo-resolutions...but it's been kind of amusing for the last few days.
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Notes from the holidays

2008-12-29T10:51:00.002-05:00

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So first of all, before we get all gooey about how it's the holiday season, let me say this: Planes don't exist.

In the span of 10 days, I've had 5 flights canceled and missed 2 Christmases. All of these canceled flights were due to "weather", but only once was it snowing and once was it raining. (Yea, I know you're now going to regale me with all this logical stuff about how weather HERE doesn't affect a plane flying from Chicago or some such blah blah. But I've never been one to hold much on to logic, so whatever.) Last week was possibly the most amusing / annoying.

I was supposed to fly out on the 23rd and was at the airport at 8:30am, dutifully arriving 90 minutes prior to my flight departure, when my flight was canceled. I swore, booked another flight for the next day (add on a rental car because it was to a different airport) and went home.

That night, a lovely recorded voice had the decency to call me *before* I left for the airport to tell me that the next day's flight was also canceled due to weather... and I signed up for another flight on the 24th... and changed the rental car.

At 2am on the 24th, my phone buzzed...and the lovely recorded voice says "canceled" again, and a 2.5 hour phone call later had a flight on Christmas day (actually 2 flights) that would get me in late on the 25th. Which was... you got it... also canceled.

Add to that 2 more flights (one from the week before canceling a trip to see extended family in North Carolina) and one more on the return trip on the 27th and that adds up to five - yes, count 'em, five - canceled flights in the span of 9 days. And one helluva lonely Christmas. So I decided to ignore Christmas on the 25th this year and just save it until later, when my nephews get back into town and I can celebrate with them. And I also decied that planes don't actually exist. They are just figments of my imagination and crank calls to my cell phone. So there.

So in the spirit of ignoring Christmas, on the 24th, I went to the supermarket: Bought a mini chicken roast-type thing, canned french-cut green beans (my *favorite*), Pillsbury crescent rolls (dont' have to share this time!), made a nice Caesar salad, bought a bottle of wine (to drink and make a rosemary white wine sauce for the chicken - yes I made that up myself, and it didn't suck), and egg nog for dessert. I had a lovely not-Christmas dinner sitting on the floor of my apartment (New Year's resolution #1: finish the apartment and get a stupid table to eat on) watching the James Bond marathon on Spike TV. (Did you know that Sean Connery wore a hair piece in every JB movie? Fascinatingly good stuff...and tricky since in most of them he somehow ended up in the water, have you ever noticed he's always swimming in the ocean at least once? Preferably with sharks and a scantily-clad bikini-decked woman. But... where was I? Oh yea, it's not Christmas.)

Don't get me wrong - it sucked not being with the nephews. But it was a much more successful not-Christmas than a few years ago, which totally sucked...so that's OK.

(Random side note: They must be testing the confetti stuff for the New Year's Even in Times Squre - little clouds of colorful confetti keep flying by my office window... how quaint.)

Meanwhile, a friend of mine's mom died over the weekend, which is really sad. She died of cancer, and wasn't young... but I wrote her an email that for some reason I feel like I should share...

When my mother passed away, I had so many emotions at the same time.
I was so sad for losing her.
I was angry for her suffering…I was angry at a lot of things.
I was relieved that her suffering was over.
I felt horrible guilt for feeling that relief.
I was heartbroken that my mother had been taken from me.
I was lost – what was I supposed to do without a mom?
And eventually, I was hopeful that I would see her again.

In May it will have been 10 years since she died – I still miss her terribly.
I won’t say that it gets easier – sometimes it is, and sometimes it still hurts pretty bad.
I wanted her at my wedding, I needed her during my divorce, I want her to see my child, if I am ever blessed with one.
For a long time I used to have the urge to pick up the phone to talk to her, especially when life got really good, or really bad.
Those are the worst moments…knowing she won’t be on the other end of the phone.
Even now, sometimes I look up in the night sky and feel her hugging me, and sometimes I just feel the distance between us.
But I know she’s with me every day in some way.
And I know now that I’ll see her again one day… and she’ll be smiling and healthy and give me a hug.

My mother was in a lot of pain for years before she finally succumbed to the horrible thing that is cancer.
Before she passed it was logical that she was dying – we knew it, the doctors told us enough times.
Even then, when she died, it all seemed too soon and too fast, and somehow still a jolting surprise.
I blame that on my age and ignorance… but in the end, I don’t think a daughter can ever be prepared to lose her mom, no matter what.
I don’t know why I’m writing this, except that I hope that somehow you find some comfort in it.

I am so sorry that I missed the services – I didn’t receive this email until late last night.
I hope you are not upset at my lack of a timely response.
You know that I am here when you need me.
Please call, whenever you want to pick up the phone and hear a voice on the other line.
It probably won’t be the voice you really want to hear, but I’ll do my best.

Mile 2.... and 3...

2008-12-16T16:48:00.006-05:00

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Okay, well, mile two went fine... but mile three posed issues. The knee problems previously described didn't get better, and my "oh, just work through it" attitude that prevailed in high school apparently doesn't work insanely well in one's mid-thirties.

I talked to a doctor (which is easy since I only see, oh, about 650 of them every day) and he said I have some tendon problem in my knee. He had multi-syllabic word for it, which translated into layman's terms means "you're old and you can't do that any more". So... running a marathon might be out of the question. I'll keep trying... but things seem to have taken a turn for the "not running a marathon" direction. Bleh.

In other news, well, I don't think there's a ton of other news. Life as a single girl in NYC is distinctly monotonous at times, even though I could probably relate some pretty amusing horror stories of online dating. First off, dating *sucks*. Every once in a while, a good guy filters through, but so far, the best I've gotten is the out-of-the-blue "I think we should take a break" or...cyber stalkers. I honestly haven't run into much in between.

One guy was a "wine expert" and loudly slurped every sip of his wine. I couldn't help but think "you know... I tell my 9 year old nephew not to slurp, and here you are, 46 years old (and yea, that's one of the younger ones that *wink* at me) and you're slurping...every...sip?" Even our dining neighbors were eyeing him. /Sigh. Add to that that the first thing he said to me as he walked into the bar and spotted me as I was ordering a drink from the bartender: "I can tell we'll get along because you have a nice ass."

Fascinating. I didn't know that my ass could tell someone so much.

Move on to date #2... nice enough guy (I think this one was in his upper 50's). Says online that he wants to settle down again and have kids... but during our conversation over a lovely dinner, regales me with his theory that men and women are not meant to be monogamous with each other, and how frustrated he was that his first wife simply didn't understand the "primal needs of a man."

Yea... I just primaled right out of that one, too. Thanks for dinner, though.

But to be fair to the unfair sex, not just the men are slimy. Women are nuts too. Half of them, when talking to them about dating, positively require their date to be psychic... or else they FLIP. OUT. From what kind of shoes he was wearing, to the name tag on the jacket, to what kind of job he has, to what size apartment he owns (note: owns, not rents), what gym he belongs to.... you get the point.

Phew.

So the end result... still slogging through the online dating thing. Hoping is always a good thing. So is looking for a new hobby...any suggestions are welcome.
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Mile one

2008-09-30T12:42:00.006-04:00

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Sometimes I get crazy ideas. Like walking 39 miles for charity. Or jumping out of a plane. Or getting a tattoo...again. All of which hurt a bit, one of which took almost a year for my toenails to recover from.

This week, I've decided that it's time for another crazy idea, and another thing on "The List". I have gone back and forth with this one, putting it on, and taking it off again. Honestly speaking, don't know if I'll be able to pull it off. But I figure that I'm not getting any younger, and this will *definitely* get harder with age.

I'm going to try to run the NYC Marathon next year. (That's *NEXT* year.)

This will be tough, mainly because I don't really care much for running. At all. But this is what I would consider a fairly minor hurdle compared to the fact that I'm fundamentally a lazy person, and a wimp when it comes to pain. But hey...why not give it a shot?

Today I started my rigorous training by running one mile. On a treadmill. In the gym. Here's how the journey went:

Mile 0.00: I can DO THIS! Yay!!!! (put cool music on iPod, plug in headphones, hop on treadmill. Yay! Inspiration!)

Mile 0.15: I feel great! This is awesome. And damn, this is a really good song, too. Maybe if I make it to a mile, and I feel good, I'll keep going!

Mile 0.25: Already a quarter of the way there! Breathing's tough, but so far, not too bad. Oh, dont' like this song... next.

Mile 0.26: Ugh. Breathing is really tough now. I gotta stop looking at this mile counter thing. It's depressing. (puts towel over machine display)

Mile ?.??: Wow, hate this song (skip) and this one (skip) and this one (skip)... let's go back to the first one, that was good.

Mile ?.??: Getting embarassingly out of breath... I've gotta be about half way done now... (peek at distance meter... it says 0.32.) Damn.

Mile ?.??: (peeked...says 0.35) Seriously?

Mile ?.??: (peeked... says 0.38) Okay, no more peeking.

Mile ?.??: (peeked...says 0.52) YAY!! Over half way there! This song is getting repetative and boring now.

Mile 0.62: OW!!!! What's wrong with my knee?!?! Where'd THAT come from?!?!

Mile 0.75: Three quarters of a mile. I always knew I was a sprinter at heart. You know... one day I will turn this into a marathon blog... "I started with one mile..." so maybe by the time I run a real marathon, it'll be 3/4ths of the way through the REAL marathon that I will feel this bad... (this is a lame attempt to keep myself optimistic, by the way.)

Mile 0.80: OW! MY KNEE REALLY HURTS! This is going to suck.

Mile 0.82: Hmmm... knee getting better... but my .... breathing... is not .... getting better.

Mile 0.90: Beginning to hate my iPod. Note to self: Get better freakin' running music.

Mile 0.93: Almost there! Just hang on... don't pass out now. Cute guy on treadmill #2 won't think that's cool.

Mile 0.96: Wow, it's amazing how far a mile is. Can I do this 26 times? I dunno... maybe this was a bad idea.

Mile 1.00: YAY!!! Took me 12 minutes, but I made it. I don't even remember the last time I spent 12 minutes in a row running.

The rest of my 30 minute workout was spent on the eliptical machine, which didn't bruise my ego quite as much. And yes, I fully realize that running a 12 minute mile is an awefully lame thing to do, and that publishing it on the blog will probably embarass the crap out of me. But I also figure that I'm more likely to actually accomplish a goal by putting it out there than to keep it to myself.

I don't know if I'll run a marathon. My knee still hurts, which doesn't sound like a good way to start this journey. But maybe, just maybe, if any of you are exceedingly bored, or just want to jog alongside one of the slowest runners in NYC, you can join me for a *short* run some day.

If you promise not to make fun of how slow I am, or how many times I have to stop to "tie my shoe," then maybe I'll treat you to a milkshake afterwards.
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Cube wars

2008-09-04T17:52:00.002-04:00

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Well, boys and girls, the moment we've been waiting for has arrived. I now have experienced the perfect example of men vs. women here in Cube Land.

Those of you who have been following this last few posts recognize some of the inane conversation that Cube Boys #1 and 2 are prone to having. I haven't even mentioned the dice rolling games they play for each others' lunch money (nope, not kidding...lunch money.)

But today was the full impact introduction of Cube Girl #1. Cube Girl sits in front of me, and sings.... and hums... constantly. The tunes vary, but yesterday, she sang We Are the Champions by Queen using a pseud0-Celine Dion voice. The girl has some talent, I'll fully admit, but having a conversation with a doctor about their experiences during 9/11 during a preinterview is made much more difficult when she busts into full-on vibrato in the cube in front of me.

I justified it by saying a) at least she hits the notes, and b) at least I'm only technically at my desk for a few hours each day.

Today, however, things took a turn. I got an email from one of my co-workers (and co-cube-mates) today (names have been changed to protect the inanely stupid):

The girl who sits directly in front of Beth was humming so loudly, I couldn’t take it. I gathered Paula and the woman behind me, and asked if they could hear “it” (referring to the loud humming). They can’t hear it from their cubes – but when they started walking toward the noise, we ALL heard it! The young woman who was humming says out loud, “I can’t help it, I’m classically trained as a singer!” Then, one of the women who sit behind us, asked her if she could stop – and she told her she does it because Cube Girl #2 is soo loud, and she’s not going to stop.

So apparently, singing is apparently her passive-aggressive way of getting back at another Cube Girl. Which of course is perfectly logical. (What grade are we in again?)

And so, boys and girls, we know the difference between Cube Boys and Cube Girls. One is immature and openly, shockingly inane in their overly-loud discussions. The other is passive-aggressively psychotic.

Yes. Cube Land. A truly wonderous place.
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History in the making

2008-08-29T10:50:00.003-04:00

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Well, this week made for some interesting historical moments (ironic, since usually the week before Labor Day is completely dead in the news world) and the next few months will undoubtedly will be fodder for future Jeopardy questions for eternity.

Barak Obama was officially nominated as the Democtratic nominee for Prez (don't know why it takes a week-long, billions-of-dollars in tax moneys spent to announce the obvious at a convention, but whatever), and John McCain this morning announced his VP running mate.

So, in the oval office in 2009 will either be a black man as Prez, or a woman as Vice Prez, which - in either case - is a first for the USA.

But in the grand scheme of the world, it's kind of sad that it's taken this long for a "minority" to be elected into a public office. (I am putting "minority" in quotations because technically 51% of the population of the US is female, making it what, boys and girls? Yes, a majority. But I digress.) Let's look at other examples of those who are, thus far, "ahead" of us:

Chile: President is Verónica Michelle Bachelet Jeria, elected in 2006.
Liberia: Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf was elected president of Liberia in 2005, becoming the first female president on the African continent.
Germany: Angela Merkel became the country's first female chancellor in history in 2005.
Ireland: Mary McAleese has been president since 1997 (yes, that's 11 years ago.)
Latvia: Vaira Vike-Freiberga is the first female president of Latvia, elected in 1999.
Israel: Dalia Itzik was selected speaker of the Knesset in 2006 and as of January 2007, is serving as acting president of the state of Israel, the first woman to hold this position.
Switzerland: Micheline Calmy-Rey was selected president of Switzerland in January 2007 and is the second woman to achieve this position in the Confederation.

Yes, *Latvia* and *Liberia* elected women as their leaders before the US did. But beyond that... let's look at the important stuff... what the Cube Boys are saying. So far, they have decided that the "red states" aren't going to be happy with a minority in either Prez or VP position, so they've concluded that the red states are going to "succeed" (i assume they mean "secede"?) from the US.

And I am, to be perfectly honest with you, horrified at the other aspects of the conversation that I've overheard (and I'm learning how even young, "liberal" males in New York City can be incredible assholes) so I won't add the other commentary that I've overheard into my blog...

So welcome to the moment of the US making history... and the moment of reaction to it. Study hard... one day you may be on Jeopardy.

Okay, back to work, people! We've got a holiday weekend to get to, pronto!
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Should I call?

2008-08-18T14:15:00.003-04:00

Cube conversation du jour....

Cube guy #1: Hey... I have a question... should you call a girl back after a first date if you said you would?

Cube guy #2: Well i guess it depends...did you tell her that to get her away from you, or did you really mean it?

Cube guy #1: What if i'm not sure? and if i do call, how long should i wait? like, two days? or a week?

Cube guy #2: Don't you think you should figure out if you want to call her or just want to get rid of her first?

Cube guy #1: Yea. I guess so. But, how long should I wait? Seriously?

Cube guy #2: Do you like her?

Cube guy #1: I don't know.

Cube guy #2: I'd say three days then.

omg, i love kids

2008-08-13T22:28:00.002-04:00

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Dinner conversation at my sister's house:

nephew #3: "when was the big boom?"

nephew #1: "the big bang....millions of trillions of billions of years ago"

nephew #4: "I wasn't even born!"

nephew #2: "nobody was born"

nephew #4: "not even china people?"

apparently the order of universal existance is:
the chinese....creation of earth....nephew #4 is born.

(all of this copied from my sister's emails to me)
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New gigs...and why is it still dark out?

2008-08-04T14:46:00.003-04:00

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So it's week 3 in the new job. The first week, I don't really count, since...well...all I did was fill out paperwork and try to remember all the 'puter passwords.

Week two was better - the woman I was replacing was here, and I basically followed her around like a puppy.

This week, I'm on my own. My first show this morning went pretty well, I think. At least, no major issues. I answered the phones, didn't mess up too badly, and so far I think the hosts like me. Even waking up at 5am was a little easier (I've made it a habit to lay out my clothes the night before, which is just a complete life saver, so 5am alarm equals a 5:30 departure time, and that's a nice leisurely pace.)

I haven't managed to get to bed any earlier than about 10:30 (and when I *did* go to sleep at 9pm, it was on Saturday night. Awesome. Hope that becomes a trend. <-- That's sarcasm.)

I told my sister, the hardest part is the first 10 minutes: Getting out of bed, turning on the lights (OW!), and realizing I can't climb back in. But seriously, it wasn't so bad, and it helps that the guys I work with are really cool. I do miss my old workmates (yea, I know they were thousands of miles away - I still miss them!) but the ones I have now are really great.

The only drawback: It's still dark when I wake up. (Oh, and I'm so glad I'm not a hypochondriac, cuz this gig would drive me over the edge.)
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Why America is fat

2008-08-04T14:36:00.002-04:00

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Breakfast:
Apple: $1.50
Bowl of fruit: $4.50
Orange juice: $2.25
Soda: $1.50

White roll with egg and cheese: $ .75

Lunch:
Kebab from guy on the street: $1.25
Two slices of pizza: $2.50
Large salad: $4.25 (toppings are extra)

Dinner:
Roasted half chicken with steamed veggies: $12.75
Sesame peanut noodles from chinese place: $3.95
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Sights, sounds, scents...

2008-07-30T14:32:00.002-04:00

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They say that the sense most strongly tied to memories is scent, and that basically, a specific scent is more likely to trigger a memory than sight, sound, touch, or sound. Today, I had a flashback to childhood...

Scents have some amazingly wondrous meanings...the scent of fresh pine needles takes me back to the mountains of North and South Carolina as a child, crunching around the mountains and looking under rocks to see what critter-crawlies we could find, then squealing and running away if we actually FOUND something with a zillion legs underneath them. Or, most recently, my friend Jim's place - a Christmas tree farm in CT - one of the most serene and beautiful places in recent memory.

Today I had a "scent flashback", but it was not quite as romantic. The bathrooms at the hospital where I work smell like the bathrooms at the campground where I spent my summers during childhood. I had all sorts of flashbacks to beaches, traipsing down to the beach with my sister and 4 cousins to try to build the world's biggest sandcastle for the sand art contest (we never won, and I was always so disappointed). But mostly, I flashed back to the bathrooms... with the perpetually damp, sandy floors, echoey sounds, and spider webs in the corners that I swore could entrap a child... funny how just a scent can bring those once-forgotten memories flooding back.

Next time, I just hope it's not a bathroom that triggers 'em.
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Jobbishness

2008-07-29T17:19:00.004-04:00

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So, this seems to have become a pattern in my career... as soon as I join a company, they are bought out by (or buy) another company. It's happened - literally - in three out of four of the jobs I've ever had... and today, it happened again. This time was the closest call, though, since I started my gig last Monday, and today (6 work days later) the annoucement was made.

All good, from what I can tell, except that the joking and good humor in the world of finance-people-cubes has been all but silent today. I guess they're dreading the merger, and have heard Cube-guy-who-is-expecting-first-kid-any-day-now lamenting about how much work he'll have upcoming and they're all making bets on how fast/who gets laid off first. Kind of a bummer.

So far, I don't think this will affect my job - at least not for a while. My little corner of the world is fairly isolated, from what I can tell so far, and the uber-boss is a huge fan of the project I'm working on. So I guess we'll see.

In the mean time, the Crackberry experiment has been mildly unsuccessful. I so far have managed to turn off ALL sounds, which is great, except when people are actually trying to reach me...

And yea, blogging's going to be all about work for a while, since that's what's consuming my life right now. Work, and sleep. The 6-8am shows means a 4:45am alarm every morning, so re-adjusting my schedule is going to be a challenge that's going to take a while to get used to. So if you wanna hang out, that's cool...I just have to be in bed by 9pm. (9 pm? Seriously? Great. Even geekier than before. This is going to be fabulous for my dating life.... (*sigh*).)
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I'm on crack...

2008-07-25T11:07:00.006-04:00

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So it finally happened...I got my first Blackberry. That wonderful invention that allows emails and phone calls to intrude on every waking moment of your life, instead of only most of them.

The first thing I asked the tech guy when he was training me was: "How do I mute it?" Can you tell I'm excited?

But I do get a kick out of Blackberry humor. One particularly favorite image is one that a conference organizer friend of mine provided. He rates speeches by how fast the heads go down in the "Blackberry prayer"...that is, when the listeners start to get a little bored, bring out the bricks, and start playing with them with heads slightly bent and hands together in front of them holding the Blackberry brick. Looks like work, but is in reality more likely a quick game of Tetris or writing an email to a friend "Wanna grab a drink after work?"

Boring speeches = "Oh, that speech was awful. He wasn't into it 10 seconds and the whole room was doing the Blackberry Prayer."

Good speeches = "She was great! I only saw a few people doing the Blackberry Prayer!"

I call them Crackberries, because people just can't seem to get away from them. And now, I'm on the road to becoming an addict myself. The good news is that now that it's on "silent" vibrate-only mode, I vow to not figure out how to change it so that it actually rings.

Meanwhile, your daily dose of cubicle conversation:
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Cube guy #1: Are women allowed to play in the NBA?

Cube guy #2: Yea.

Cube guy #1: So are men allowed to play in the WNBA?

Cube guy #2: No, cuz if you're born a guy you can't play in women's sports. They specifically put that in the rules.

Cube guy #1: Well, that brings up an interesting question. What if you have a sex change? Cuz there was this girl who got a sex change and wanted to play in the PGA, right?

Cube guy #2: I think that's why they say "born a guy," cuz you're not allowed to play if you've ever had testosterone, I guess.

Cube guy #1: Okay, that makes sense.

(um...does it? really?)
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Giving up?

2008-07-24T10:51:00.004-04:00

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Hey y'all!

To answer a recent comment, I haven't given up blogging completely...at least, I'd like to think I haven't. Things have been *so* nutso and I just haven't been sure where to begin! So... here's the drill so far... we'll start with the boring stuff (at least, potentially boring for you...rather exciting/exhausting for me):

I've swapped jobs, and am back in production again, this time in radio. I am working for Sirius producing talk radio, which brings me back to my production roots. While I've loved writing, loved the company (and people) that I was working with (even though we really only communicated via IM's and emails), the "working from home" thing just wasn't a very good fit for me. It's far too lonely for me and my personality... so I've moved back into cubicle land, where the pretzel sticks in the break room are free, and the gossip in the cubes around me are all about getting drunk at the corporate party, someone on the brink of becoming a first-time dad, and the latest weird news headlines (like a 9 year old kid named Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii suing to change her name... not kidding). This morning's cubicle-conversation, brought to you buy the guy who sits behind me and his cross-the-hall-cube-friend:

Cube guy #1: Okay, so question of the day: If you wake up and realize that you have no clean underwear cuz you just haven't done laundry yet, what do you do? Would you wear dirty ones?

Cube guy #2: Well, what do you mean by "dirty"?

Cube guy #1: Oh I dunno, just...worn once before, I guess.

Cube guy #2: I guess it kind of depends... I mean, if it was a pair I wore once on a cool fall day, to like a picnic or something, no problem. But if, like, I played hockey the night before? Well, that's kinda...you know.

Cube guy #1: Yea, I gotcha.

I can't tell you how much I appreciate being back in this bizarro world.

That being said, I didn't quite dodge a bullet when it comes to working hours. I've pulled the 6-8am shows Mon-thru-Fri, so I'll be up early (no, make that obnoxiously early) all week. Not the most ideal for me, since I'm about as far from a "morning person" as one can get. I'm optimistic that I can make the transition to morning shows (the hours start next week), and I've already tried implementing the "go to bed 30 minutes earlier and get up 30 minutes earlier every day" program. It has worked so far, with moderate success. Last night I went to bed around 9:30pm, and woke up at 4:30am. All good, except I fell back asleep until 7:30... hm, gotta work on that.

In other parts of life, the apartment is coming along fine, although the renovations process has been put on hold for a bit. The kitchen and closet are done (save for new light bulbs, painting, and need-to-pick-up-a-garbage-can-soon type things. The bathroom is next, but that's a tad difficult, since I'll pretty much have to move out for a week while that happens. Dunno how that's going to happen...but we'll let that go for now... I'll have pictures of the kitchen up soon... as soon as, well, I can.

There's loads of other news...some potential regarding a boy (fingers crossed), membership at a new gym (ouch), travels to Honduras (where it *didn't* rain this year), and the woes of changing my name...again... (*sigh*). I'm sure I'll get to all of this at some point in my blogging, but seriously, I'm glad to know that some of you are still interested in following the adventure...

In the meantime, enjoy a little multicultural chuckle from my newest hero in the whole wide world... Matt (be sure to watch the video)... http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/
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Flowers...

2008-06-18T12:35:00.000-04:00

(hee hee)

Nifty...ow.

2008-06-12T16:49:00.004-04:00

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In the interest of trying to minimize the joint-creaking pain incurred by sitting in front of a computer for waaay too many hours every day, I finally blew up my exercise ball. It was free, lest you think I've gone COMPLETELY off my rocker, and I tried to use it today instead of my regular office chair. I've heard that if you sit on the ball instead of a chair, you basically use your abs, back, and leg muscles all day to keep yourself balanced, and it's generally healthier than a chair. Yay! Healthier SITTING! I love America.

So today I tried this modern wonder of fitness, and blew up my yoga/fitness ball. And sat on it.

I'm too low on my desk and the edge is cutting into my arm and my fingers get tingly and my shoulders hurt from shrugging for the last 7 hours to try to reach the pooter. And my hips, knees and ankles hurt? Why is that?

Answer: I'm getting old.

/cry

The only plus side is that while i've been brainstorming I've been doing situps on the ball. Result: Realizing that not only am I old, but in pathetic shape.

Deflating ball. Going back to chair now.
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Looking back...forward...eh...yea...

2008-06-10T19:01:00.002-04:00

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Hello! Wow it's friggin' hot. But fortunately, Con Ed hasn't let the Big Apple down (except for a few spots in Brooklyn last night), and the 103 degree heat hasn't overloaded my cheap-o Wal Mart air conditioning unit either. I guess that's one real perk to having only 420 square feet of living space... the AC doesn't have to work that hard to keep up.

Nothing really brilliantly new has happened in life, except that the old dishwasher is gone, and the shelves are...being installed. How is it possible that I'm *that* excited about shelves? HA! Actually, it's not just the shelves, but life in general that's getting better. I am still working on moving out of "hermit" life... but so far, I've signed up for two classes, made a date or two (gasp), learning that the right kind (and number) of tequila shots doesn't have to hurt too badly, and am generally doing okee doke. I do spend far too much time staring at a computer screen in a given day, but that may change soon, and at least the chinese takeout happens much less frequently these days. My sodium levels may return to normal by 2012.

I won't get into what the title of this email means...not yet, anyway. Let's just say that Saturday night has potential.
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Hello again...

2008-06-06T12:26:00.005-04:00

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It's been a while, I know...(holy crap, is it really June already?) but when I sum up the last few months of life, it seems rather overwhelming. I've moved (twice), renovated my kitchen, and started a new job. So while I don't like to make excuses, I like to think of these as "reasons" for my lack of blogging lately.

Most generic peeps prolly won't care what's going on. But in case you do, here's the dealio (starting with the fun stuff!)

Spent a week in Honduras diving again. If you recall last year, my friend Dani and I spent one week in a hut watching torrential downpours while longing for sunny weather. We got a lot of reading done, but not so much diving. So we called a "mulligan" for this year, and went back to the same resort for a week in April. And it was PERFECT. I checked off a few very high-ranking items on my "to do before I'm dead" list, including diving with sharks (freakin' awesome) and diving with dolphins (equally freakin' awesome, but with a less terrifying bent.)

Some photos:

Gotta give credit to Dani for most of these photos. She seemed to have a lot more patience for toting around the underwater camera than I did. But all in all, it was a perfect dive week (there were even cute boys to hang out with this time...a nice perk). Now, we're trying to decide on our dive destination for next year...Indonesia, maybe? We'll see...

In more local news, I've moved back into the city - into an apartment that is approximately 50 feet from my old apartment. Still deciding whether or not that was a good idea or not - to live so close to my "old life" - but so far, I have to sayt that it seems to be workout out OK. I realized, however, that I've never actually lived alone in my life, so it's been a learning experience, to say the least. Gone are the days of "you cook, I'll clean"...and who would have thought that a mere 420 square feet could need so much work? Besides the dishwasher (which is being removed on Monday, after leaking all over the floor, twice, and being replaced with more storage drawers), the renovations have gone well, and I'm not living out of boxes any more. Next up is the bathroom, which needs to be gutted. That means moving out for a week while they work on it... don't tell my sister, but I'll probably have to borrow her spare bedroom again for a while.

The new job is fine, but working from home definitely has its challenges. I've worked into a nice rhythm, but for the first few months, I found myself working in my pajamas far too often. It sounds tempting, until you realize that by the time you realize you're still in your pajamas, it's time to get back into them again. Hmmm. I have to say that daily functioning is much easier now that my wardrobe is in an actual closet. Opening up a wardrobe box after having your clothes in storage for the better part of a year was like shopping at a store where everything is free, everything fits, and everything is something you like. Now that's my kind of shopping.

Getting really superficial, I dyed my hair red (another "list" thing), and I have to say - it's so much fun. I don't know how much patience I'll have for touchups and the pricetags of a hair coloring habit, but for now, it's friggin' awesome. I feel like a totally new person, and I have to say, I like it.

More news later...
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The Myth of Fingerprints...

2008-03-12T13:18:00.003-04:00

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My sister was cleaning the computer screen this morning. With four kids who have learned about the joy of Webkinz and the internet, there's no shortage of fingerprints on the screen.

Her 3 yr old son walked in and saw her wiping off the screen, which lead to the following conversation:

3 yr old: "What are you doing?"

Mom: "Cleaning off the little finger prints all over the screen. Hm, whose fingerprints do you think they are?"

3 yr old: "Um, well...It could be the mouse...because it turns into a little hand."

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Rings first...

2008-01-24T11:47:00.000-05:00

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My sister told me I had to start blogging again, if for no other reason than to bump the depressing posts further down. So, here I am!

First off, I'm still alive - no I haven't dropped off the face of the planet completely. I was just in CT for a while. The good news is that living with my sister and her family was great. The only downside - moving out. Now I actually have to cook and do the dishes. Bummer.

Second, I turned 35 last week. It wasn't as painful as anticipated, and I only noticed three or four new wrinkles. But I think this is the age when mammograms and botox injections are supposed to start, so we're right on track. (Kidding...)

In other news, I've found my wedding rings... the only thing missing - a groom... Ah well, one step at a time, eh? Maybe I'll pull a Dennis Rodney and marry myself... or just get the rings. (*grin*)

I get it now.

2007-12-01T23:24:00.000-05:00

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Have you ever had a moment...
... when you realize that what you longed to have...
... ... was just a fantasy...
... ... ... just an ignorant... idealistic... foolishly optimistic...
... ... ... ... dream...

That not only will you never be a princess...
... but princesses never really existed at all.

... ... that dragons never flew...
... ... ...and unicorns never danced...
... ... ... ...and that kind of love they wrote about...
... ... ... was just a bunch of words...
... ... in a book...
... on a shelf.

That those ideals are unattainable...
... and dreams...
... ... just a wisp of imagination...
... ... ... that life slowly steals...

I get it now.

What I was hoping for
... praying for
... ... crying for
... ... ... was just a figment...

What is so easily promised in all the ads...
... so easily uttered...
... ... so flippantly promised...
... ... ... doesn't really mean much...

and in the end, there is no 'ever after'...
... the battles are faced and fought
... ... completely
... ... ... unromantically
... ... and unmagically
... alone.
.

Pancakes.

2007-10-30T14:19:00.000-04:00

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My boobs hurt.

Last Friday, I went to the doc for random stuff, and he found a lump in my right breast. Nothing major, he said, prolly just a cyst. But with my family history, better safe than sorry. Whoopie.

So this morning, I was up at 5:45am to catch a crazy-hour train to NYC for a "we'll squeeze her in" appointment.

The usual paperwork later, I was escorted into the examining room, where the doc did a breast exam. Then...the fun part. The mammogram.

I've had a mammogram before - about 10 years ago after my mom was first diagnosed. But it still baffles me that they can actually do this to my breasts and still have them be attached to my body. I couldn't watch as they turned them into boob-pancakes this-way-and-that-way. Wow. Ouch. I'll never think of pancakes the same way again.

But after the doc looked at the first set of films, she wanted another take on another device, which the lovely lady told me would be "slightly more uncomfortable" than the first takes. (I think in helpful nurse-and-doctor language, "slightly more uncomfortable" describes what you feel when you amputate your arm with no anesthesia.)

After that fun time, she still wanted to check me out more, so we did a sonogram. First off, I can't tell you how depressing that my first sonogram of my life was looking for boob lumps. But at least it was "slightly less uncomfortable" than the mammogram / torture machine we started with.

The exams were quick - I felt like I and my boobs were on a conveyer-belt of boob-imaging along with about 30 other women in the office and their boobs. And in the end, $785 dollars later (why doesn't insurance cover this again?) the doc says my "denser than normal" breast tissue looks normal, and no bumps, lumps, or anything to be concerned about. See you next year.

I'm relieved - obviously - that the girls are healthy. But I had to take some aspirin for my poor boobs when I got back. And I'm already dreading next year.
.

39 miles later...(part deux)

2007-10-10T17:54:00.000-04:00

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Yes, I know the walk ended a while ago...but it's taken this long for my sister and I to get back to the point that we actually want to remember it. We're still limping, and bleeding... but let's start at the beginning, shall we?

Checking in on Friday night was crazy - thousands of people, milling about the hotel, some still holding signs that said "Need $400 for the walk!" (we all had to raise a minimum of $1,800), and the lines for medical check-in, quick check-in, and yes, even the bathroom, was filled with pink-clothed people toting bags and baggage. We scooted through that, hoping the next day would be a little less overwhelmingly loud.

The early alarm on Saturday morning wasn't fun, but when we arrive at Pier 84 to check in for the walk at 5:45am, we were surrounded by happy, perky, well-meaning people who seemed to be bursting with energy. My sister and I were... cranky and cold... but happy to be there. After eating some rubbery bagels and canned OJ, we walked close to the stage for the opening ceremonies. I will be the first to admit that we did that in the hopes that being surrounded by people would block the wind and warm us up a little... but the front-row seats had some drawbacks which I'll get to in a moment.

To paraphrase a friend of ours who has done similar walks, we were probably prepared for the physical turmoil we were about to embark upon. We were not prepared for the emotional turmoil. We listened to moving stories of cancer survivors, both those in remission and those who are still living with the disease. We heard moving speeches, and held hands with one another, and were led in a few lame stretching exercises before we were given the go-ahead to begin our 26+ mile hike for day one.

This is where we goofed. By being in the front of the crowd for the presentation, we ended up being in the back of the crowd for the beginning of the walk. Not important, since it's not a race, right? Obviously you don't understand my sister and my sense of competition. It's far from passive. We spent the next 2 hours walking on the edges of curbs, cutting corners NYC style, and in general being fairly aggressive walkers in order to "get ahead." We succeeded, though later I would wonder at what cost to our long-term endurance.

On day one, we took a 26-mile long meandering path through some of the coolest, and weirdest parts of Manhattan and Brooklyn... Through Union Square, Washington Square Park, Chinatown, Little Italy, across a foggy Manhattan Bridge into DUMBO and back on the island via the Brooklyn Bridge, through the Flatiron, and past Lincoln Center to hug Central Park West up through Harlem, across the GW Bridge and finally arriving some place in NJ for our overnight camping.

The first 10 miles were tough, and if you had asked me at the time how I felt, I'd have told you I was an 8.5 out of 10. Looking back, I was closer to a 9.999. The hip hurt a little, and my ankle was twinging, but nothing that slowed us down too much. By mile 13 we were doubting the wisdom of our outing, and by mile 18, we were playing "which body part is killing you now?" regularly. My ankle was in constant pain, and the hip tendons (weird, right?) were annoying. sis' knee was acting up, and our toes were feeling weird.

By mile 20, we were wondering how the heck my sister's husband was going to run a marathon, since we were basically falling apart at the seams. The GW bridge offered a mental respite - as we crossed the truckers and cars blew their horns in support. But the 5 miles after that were pure and unadulterated pain. Most of it was downhill, which on initial thought sounds good, right? No, we decided long ago that FLAT was the least of the evils, while uphill came in second. Downhill was pure pain, and the only reason I wasn't limping was because both legs hurt just about equally.

Though it was excruciating, we were in good spirits, and didn't harp too much on too many things, really. After all, the pain of breast cancer and chemo makes our walk seem like a bubble bath...and that's really the point, right?

The camp was tent-city. And at first we lamented the fact that our little square of land was just about as far away from the central point of activity as we could get. Even walking to it - about 100 yards - was too much for us to think about, and we sat on the grass of the baseball field trying to figure out how to get there without actually moving. We couldn't figure it out, so we crept over, and found some nice Girl Scouts to set up our tent for us, and then hobbled to dinner, and hobbled to the medical tent to get ice. Curious about my new found ankle pain, I saw a doctor who, after some poking, diagnosed me with "tendinitis due to overuse." It's a good thing the consult was free, cuz I could have told her that. Ice packs were in huge demand, so we horded them.

One thing that did make us smile was that when we arrived at 3:30pm - after 8 hours of walking - almost none of the other people at the camp had actually walked the entire distance. Most had stopped and taken the bus from mile 13. While we knew it wasn't a competition, it just felt good to have accomplished a goal that day that was a significant achievement. It also made me feel pretty good about not being sure I would be able to walk the next 13 miles the next day. My ankle was killing me, and the hips were nearly immobile. Thank goodness for ibuprofen.

We passed out in the tent floor around 9pm, and slept a solid 10 hours. Thankfully we were away from the evening's festivities (and floodlights), and slept in relative peace. The only exception were 2 trips to the loo in the middle of the night (1/2 liter of water every 45 minutes will do that to you). The loo trips wouldn't have been important to write about, except that every time I had to go, I literally shuffled like a 102-year-old woman because of the pain. Except for a brief spat of rain, it was a quiet evening.

The next morning, we had recovered surprisingly well, though we decided that avoiding the pain killers would not be an option. Popping two more ibuprofen, and breaking down the tent, we headed to breakfast, and then proceeded to walk the 4 miles uphill back to the GW bridge. The uphill wasn't too bad, but the pain came back earlier than the day before, and basically the 13 miles on Sunday were similar to the second 13 miles on Saturday - painful, long, and hard. But at the end of the road, a cheerleader squad welcomed us across the finish line and we were congratulated by spectators, which made it almost ok.

It took a few days to get back to normal, during which time we realized (warning: gross stuff ahead) that we got blisters underneath our toenails. Sis' got infected, and later required antibiotics, but other than that, it realistically took us about 3-4 days to get back to normal-ish (except for the toes, which are still recovering.)

But all in all, it was an amazing experience, which I'm hoping to do again...one day...far in the future. And next time, I'm getting stronger pain medicine to take with me.

39 miles later....

2007-10-07T17:17:00.000-04:00

.
ow.

(more details coming... once the drugs kick in.)
.

Can you OD on Vitamin C?

2007-10-04T16:08:00.000-04:00

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The two-day "am I insane" walk starts Saturday... and - as my sister says - we're both in complete denial of its existence. The only training we've really taken seriously is the carb-loading part... oh, and I bought us each a pair of 'blister-resistant' socks. Hopefully that means it'll resist giving our feet blisters, as opposed to resisting giving the socks blisters. We did pack our bags today, which consisted of things like antacids, pain killers, muscle relaxants and water bottles. Note to self: Be sure to google the nearest location to the finish line where we can find a wheelchair... or a spa.

It's going to be fun, I swear... especially when it's over. And I'm sure we're over-packing or under-packing or something, but hey, what's an adventure without some element of surprise? I've also caught a nice little cold, so I have been slamming vitamin C... I kid you not, I have had - in the last two days - 7,000% of my recommended daily allowance of Vitamin C each day. I don't know if it's making me feel better (or maybe that's what's giving me these muscle aches and headaches?) but hey, it's worth a shot.

We're taking a camera, but I won't promise that we'll remember to take photos... or if - after walking so long together - we'll be able to stand each other long enough to ask to share the photos. But I'll see what I can do...

In other news:
- Yes, I'm still alive.
- No, I don't have an apartment... yet... but it's getting closer!

- My boyfriend and I are no longer together. Bleh.

- Work is nuts... but I still (mostly) love it.

- I suck at retail therapy.

Okay... that's it for now. I off to geek out for a while.
.

three things

2007-09-27T23:55:00.001-04:00

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there are three things you should never do when you break up with someone:

1. spend the night alone at a ghetto hotel in a city you don't know

2. watch sex and the city - the one about how they're getting "old" (i.e. the same age as you) and are alone and unhappy

3. write a blog.

oops. note to self: follow own advice.

Launches, Lurches, Lunches

2007-09-24T20:04:00.000-04:00

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Hello blogger-readers... it's been rather quiet on this front, I'll admit. The new job is crazy, but the beast launches tomorrow... so hopefully the internet won't blow up or anything. If it does, don't tell anyone it's because of me, deal?

I'll admit being kind of excited. It's kinda weird to have excitement about a job again.... and I'll also admit that I like caring about my job again. I need to keep this going for a while, I think. It is kind of hard to tell what your bosses are feeling about your work when they are thousands of miles away.

What else... in other news, the apartment-buying process is taking it's usual sluggish pace... but hopefully things will be resolved soon. I am not sure that buying a place that needs work was such a good idea at this point in my life. But hey, too late now. Low-VOC paint, here I come.

The 39-mile walk for breast cancer is in a week and half, and it's going to hurt. Badly. My sister and I decided a few weeks ago that we needed to "train"... and since then, we've probably walked a total of 20 miles. We did have a good two-day training streak - two days of 6-mile walks each. We were hurtin' though... and at the end, decided that we'll be fine, but we'll be sore. I mean, I'm excited at the challenge, and I'm sure it's going to be an amazing adventure... but 39 miles is a looooooong way on foot. Please feel free to stop along the route and bring us brownies... or adrenaline shots... or just a stretcher. After I'm done I'm going to get a brain transplant to make sure I don't have any of these stupid ideas again.

Other than that, depression seems to be the running theme in my life. I guess all the upheaval of the last 2 years is still draggin' me down. (*sigh*). Tired of this. Really. C'mon. Is this whole "depressed for 2 years" thing supposed to be a joke? Cuz I'm not friggin' laughing.
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What gets my goat...

2007-09-18T20:49:00.000-04:00

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Things that get my goat:

Being thirsty and having to pee at the same time.

Melting ice watering down a $12 drink.

Uptime and downtime being indistinguishable in their levels of stress.

Non-thong giving a wedgie. (Why else would you wear grannie-panties except to avoid a wedgie?)

Switching to online billing to save paper, and still getting junk mail from the credit card company. (I'm talkin' to you, AMEX.)

Being surrounded by people and feeling lonely. (And then being filled with guilt because I shouldn't feel lonely.)

People who claim online "friends" aren't real friendships.

Phlegm and swollen sinuses. (Really, what is the evolutionary purpose of a sinus headache?)

Computers that don't do what they're supposed to do.

Cleaning up my room, and then not being able to find anything I'm looking for.

Lies and the lying liars who tell them.

People who can't separate work and play... and people who can't enjoy that separation.

The fact that you can't have long fingernails and play the piano.

Places that run the heat or A/C based on the date and not the temperature.

Smokers.
.
.
.
.
.
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I think that's it for now. Meanwhile, my sister and I are "training" for our walk in two weeks... yikes!!! Wish us luck!
.

Best. Email. Spam. Ever.

2007-09-13T18:41:00.000-04:00

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> >
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> >
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> >
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> > pharmacist about White Wine.
> >
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> > about yourself and your actions. White Wine can help ease you out of
> > your shyness and let you tell the world that you're ready and willing
> > to do just about anything.
> >
> > You will notice the benefits of White Wine almost immediately,
> > and with a regiment of regular doses you can overcome any
> > obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live.
> > Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past, and you wi ll
> > discover many talents you never knew you had. Stop hiding and start living,
> > with White Wine.
> >
> > White Wine may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or
> > nursing should not use White Wine. However, women who wouldn't
> > mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.
> >
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> > incarceration, erotic lustfulness, loss of motor control, loss of clothing,
> > loss of money, loss of virginity, delusions of grandeur, table
> > dancing, headache, dehydration, dry mouth, and a desire to sing
> > Karaoke and play all-night rounds of Strip Poker, Truth Or Dare, and
> > Naked Twister.
> >
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> > The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are
> > whispering when you are not.
> >
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> > idiot.
> >
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> > over and over again that you love them.
> >
> > The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can
> > sing.
> >
> > The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-
> > lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
> >
> > The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are
> > tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.
> >
> > The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are
> > laughing WITH you.

Yep, Nope

2007-09-12T23:21:00.000-04:00

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Yep, I'm still alive.
Nope, I don't have an apartment yet.
Yep, I'm still a redhead.
Yep, I love it and might stay a redhead for a while.
Yep, I still have a job.
Nope, I haven't stopped working since I started it.

And Yep, overall, I'm pretty happy....
... and in desperate need of a massage.
.

A Conversation on Sharks

2007-09-06T16:50:00.000-04:00

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Nephew #3: (running to his mom, upset and on the verge of tears)
Mama, sharks can't go out of the water... But he says no, they can!
(points accusingly at nephew #4)

Mama: (to nephew #4)
Sharks can't go out of the water or they'll die.

Nephew #4: (puzzled)
But then how do they get on boats?

Mama:
They don't.

Nephew #4: (tears welling in eyes)
But Mama, they HAVE to...

Mama:
Honey, they can't.

Nephew #4: (pouting)
I don't wanna play this game any more.
(stomps towards tire swing)
.

Big Red

2007-09-01T11:53:00.001-04:00

Impulse Dye

2007-08-27T21:17:00.001-04:00

I am not sure why I wanted to be a redhead... my sister is a redhead, so you would think that it wouldn't be such a mysterious color. But brown is just so... brown. So I finally did it. I dyed my hair red. And it is... interesting.

I went to a salon that a friend of mine recommended. Her hair is fabulously colored... she's Italian genetically, and now has very natural-looking blond highlights - so I trusted her recommendation completely. Now I know that you're supposed to have a consultation, and bring photos, and chat with your stylist about what you want. But all that seemed fairly boring to me. I basically thought, "I have hair. She dyes hair. I've never dyed my hair. Who am I to tell her what will work?"

I walked into the salon and the woman at front desk was very nice... "come this way, and I'll show you the elevator" and I was whisked into the conveyor-belt-atmosphere of the salon. I'm not kidding that there were at least 30 stylists/colorists at work on this bright, shiny Saturday morning. And there were at least that many clients getting their hair done.

So I asked the colorist - a lovely lady named Elena - what she thought about red. She said "I think it would be gorgeous! It would really compliment your eye color... oh by the way, do you have virgin hair?"

Virgin hair?

I'm going to *guess* that you mean that no colorants have ever touched my follicles. Sure enough, that's what it means. So I was about to pop my hair's cherry? How appropriate that I was asking for red.

Elena said she knew the perfect color. I said "no strawberry blond" and she said "I've got it, don't move" and ran off into the back room. The door was cracked, and I could see rows and rows of boxes, presumably filled with hair color. She was gone for - I kid you not - 20 minutes, and I thought perhaps they simply didn't have any other hair color other than blond. Maybe she had run down to the local CVS to pick up a bottle of $8.99 John Frieda Radiant Red. (Maybe she did.... who knows. I wish she'd have told me - it'd be cheaper that way.)

Finally, after I'd had plenty of time to mentally back out, opt in, chicken out again, and do a gut check, she returned with a small bowl of raspberry yogurt. True enough, my "perfect color" (according to the stylist) was "way in the back, under some boxes" (let me guess - boxes of blond?) She'd mixed it up and was ready to go. I just hope it hadn't expired... who wants moldy yogurt in their hair?

She first spread what felt like Vaseline around my hair line and over my ears (not a very pleasant feeling) then proceeded to unceremoniously paint raspberry yogurt on my scalp. It was a very odd feeling. It was like having cool mud slathered on your scalp. First reaction: "EWWWWW".

Yes, at first, it was gross feeling, but it's kind of like mixing ground beef with your hands - after you resign yourself to the feeling, it can be quite a fascinating sensation. And the sound... do me a favor, and stick your hands into some yogurt sometime and squish it through your fingers while you lean your head very close... every once in a while, spread some on the tips of your ears. Odd.

Once she did my scalp-parts, she told me to walk over to the rinsing sink because she wanted to "pour the rest on"... and sure enough, she poured the rest over my head. Imagine a cool bunch of... well... raspberry yogurt being literally dumped onto your head and massaged around. It's like the grown-up wet dream version of a 6 year old's mud-fight-in-the-back-yard.

Then, my head was wrapped in plastic, and I was stuck under a dryer with some magazines. I felt like I should have been in a hair salon in the 1950's. This is the first time I actually looked around at my fellow salon dye-victims... And I realized that I was the only one in the salon who WASN'T GOING BLOND. I felt like I was in a room of clones... and I was the only one not going blonder. 30 women in the room, and all of them were some shade of blond-ish-ness. Eerie. Stepford Wives. Big time.

After my timer buzzed (yes, I did have a timer, and yes, it buzzed), they took me back to the sink and "reclined" me into the rinsing sink. But something kicked me in the back. Oh wait! It's a massage chair! At this moment, I think I have finally realized why so many people on this planet get their hair colored... for the massage chair. And for the "conditioning treatment." The woman who rinsed my hair color out, and conditioned my hair gave me a head massage. If I wasn't straight, I may very well have run off with this woman... as long as she promised to bring the massage chair.

She rinsed out the yogurt, wrapped my head with a towel, and then brought me over to a mirror and plopped me down and said "okay, dry your hair out, honey" and gave me a hair dryer and three brushes. Dry my hair out? I gotta do it myself? Didn't these people know that the last time I blew dry my hair was about 1 year ago? Okay, here goes... unwrap the towel, and ...

I giggle. I'm not naturally a giggler, but I started giggling, and I couldn't stop. I looked like I'd spilled Pom juice on my head... my hair looked BLACK. I started blowing it dry, and besides the fact that I think half of my hair fell out in the process ("that's natural for some follicles to release the hair") my hair was slowly turning from Pom juice color to Crayola brick red color. I started laughing... and I couldn't stop. The rinse lady came over at one point and asked me to stop laughing. I didn't.

The colorist finally took pity on my pathetic, giggly attempt at blow drying my falling-out-hair, and took over. She blew it out a little more, and I couldn't stop staring at myself in the mirror. I loved it, but MAN it was STRANGE and completely unnatural looking.

I left feeling a little buzzy, and as I exited the salon, the woman at the desk who had escorted me to the elevator said, "Oh, My, GOD! You're RED!" and she poked the girl next to her and said "When she came in, she was blond. But now she's RED!" I imagine she's never seen anyone leave the salon red before. They've all been blond.

Later that day, I went back to my sister's house. She said she liked it (and I believe her, even though she may be lying), but the best comment came from my nephews:

Nephew #1: Hey Beth! Oh wow. Look at your hair!
Me: What do you think?
Nephew #1: Well, Mom said you were going to come back with red hair. But it doesn't look red. It looks... WEIRD.

Nephew #3: Beth, your hair is red. But a funny red. Not like mama's.
Me: What do you mean "funny"?
Nephew #3: Funny. Like a good funny.

My sister told me I had to wear more makeup now. After all, she said, "Your hair is like a new, bold accessory. You have to dress for it now."

It's true. So now I'll have to ask my fashion peeps what makeup and earrings go best with a Crayola "Brick." And according to my sister, I apparently I can't wear my favorite maroon skirt any more because it's too "matchy-matchy." Oops.

It's going to take me a while to get used to it, but believe it or not, since it's on my head, I don't really see the color that much (usually it's pulled back off my face.) I tend to forget about it, but whenever I walk by a mirror, I am rather startled and can't stop staring. I must look really odd on the subway staring at my reflection in the glass. But that's OK.... I like it. A lot.

(P.S. Don't forget to wash that yogurt off your ear.)
.

#57 - Check

2007-08-26T10:27:00.000-04:00

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So I can now check #57 off of "The List" which is Be a redhead... what do you think?

Before:

After:

The stylist said it really brings out the green in my eyes... uh, I mean... in my rubber-duck-shirt.

Escape to Alcatraz

2007-08-22T08:33:00.001-04:00

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I know, I know... the blog has been quiet. But a quick life update: I love my job but it's crazy busy and I nearly had a mental breakdown last week (but no worries now...). The social life is crazy but who cares, and there's so much on the horizon that I can't keep up... The bad days are still pretty bad, but the good days far outnumber them so it's all getting better. Overall, all is well with the world, and the forward focus is beginning to become a fabulous reality.

My new favorite headache: Popcorn, by Hot Butter. Dunno why... it's like crack for eardrums (though I know it drives the boy crazy... sorry.)

Anyhoo, I did manage to escape to Alcatraz for a few days last week, after my training week in San Fran. Here is a quick n' dirty look (and yea, I know there's schmutz on my camara lens... so shoot me.)

The Isle itself:
"Only bad people help bad people escape..."
The welcome sign... (yes there were Native Americans there in 1969. Google it for details.)
Sparse quarters...
At the intersection of Broadway and Times Square:
The recreation yard, where apparently, many very competative and intense games of bridge were held regularly. Peek
Cells on top of one another...
The old Warden's house (I think):
It just doesn't look like it's that far away... I can see how they thought they could make it to the city...Entrance to Admin:

I like this shot... taken from the dining hall:
The Guard Tower:
Blah blah blah
Alcatraz Island is now a bird sanctuary. Lots of birds here. And lots of bird poop.

Toys...

2007-08-14T23:49:00.000-04:00

Oh, what is it about new electronic gadgetry that gives me such a thrill?! Really, after the angst of shorting out my cell phone last night by dropping it in the bathtub, I went out and bought the phone that I've been lusting after...

(Wait... I feel the need to back up a little. First off, no, I'm not that desperate to stay in touch with the world that I have to keep the phone by the bath... I'm just desperate to stay in touch with one person in particular - The Boy - so back off the whole "geez, can't you live without your cell phone for two seconds?" commentary, 'kay? Second, no, I didn't get the iPhone, which I still don't understand why you people with actual human-sized fingers are fascinated with. I met the iPhone. I played with the iPhone. I used the iPhone to make a call. And while I may risk being stoned to death here by the masses, I have to say that the coveted iPhone still seems - gasp, dare I say it? - very limited to me in terms of actual functionality, durability, and, to be honest, intuitive functionality. Plus, it only works with AT&T cellular service? Huh... what-ev-er. So until the iPhone technology - and the stupidity of exclusive carrier rights - catches up to the normal workings (and digit size) of modern humans, I'm going to curb my techno-lust for that little gadget.)

So back on track, yea, I guess I did fry my phone in the wonders of a lavender-scented bubble-bath. Oops. So after spending an hour on line at the wrong store, I finally tracked down a Verizon store and after a little flirting with the customer-service-dude, I managed to score an "early upgrade" price tag on my new phone (as opposed to the "new phone cuz you're an idiot" price tag that the surly customer-service-dudette quoted me at the other desk) and viola, new technology! I was so excited I could hardly bring myself to remove that weird protective sticky-plastic-cell-phone-condom-stuff from the screens and buttons. (But I did.)

And... ooh, this is like extra chocolate sauce on a sundae... it came with a built-in GPS!!! Oh I'm SO screwed when the 2-week free trial runs out on that little feature. I played with it until the battery died. And even though the locator is a little off sometimes (weirdly haunting female GPS voice: "Proceed to Vessey Street"... Me talking to my phone: "I'm ON Vessey Street!")... it was awesome, and lead me quite nicely from (yes) Vessey Street to the West Village with very few problems.

Aaaah, this is the thrill one receives while indulging in ones geeky tendencies... And it almost makes me think that my subconscious dropped my (old, crappy, not-having-a-keyboard-when-you're-texting-kinda-sux) phone in the bubblebath on purpose... but don't tell the dude at Verizon that...

P.S. I recycled my old phone. You can do that, you know... just take it to any cell place and they're required to take it. It's better for the environment than tossing the things in the land fills, and they recycle used phones for people in need. Just sayin' that if you're going to indulge in geeky tendencies, make sure you also indulge in good causes at the same time.

Peace out... and text me if you're bored.

egg-zausted

2007-08-13T20:48:00.001-04:00

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hey y'all...

i know that i've been sadly remiss in my blogging duties... there are no excuses except that i am simply exhausted. the trip to san fran was fabulous (except for a few weirdos - see the previous posting)... but otherwise, the new job is awesome and i'm seriously having a fabulous time. i'm so excited and energized and invigorated ... but the travels back to the right coast were exhausting, the upcoming workload is daunting, and a few emotional things on the home front are definitely draining. i'm quickly coming upon what will be one of the most painful and awful and unfair moments of my entire life, and even just the anticipation of the event is sucking life out of me. grrrr.

this, combined with the 'no home' factor is a bit weary, and having been forced to rely upon the generosity of others to this extreme is creating a constant guilty feeling that is making me act ridiculously (walking 2 miles home at 1am from the train station with a rolling suitcase? pricelessly dumb.) i wonder what my brain is thinking sometimes.

that being said, i love being back in NYC. my new job allows me to wander about the city and find super-cool, uber-fabulous places, and today i took a trip out to williamsburg (brooklyn) for dinner and two desserts... (hey, i could get used to this kind of research!)

still, sitting still at night by myself isn't relaxing... and my back is killing me from the stupid suitcase safari. for the first time in about 2 years, i wish i had some brainless tv to watch.

i need a massage.... badly....

(later that night...)
so... i decided to take a bath. and while i was running the water, The Boy called, and set the phone a-vibrating... and *ploop* right into the bathtub it went. one phone... drowned. it spit sparks at me and everything... very impressive stuff for such a crap phone.

end result - dead phone. and i think we can safely assume, ladies and gentlemen, that i am experiencing a personal revolt against my person lead by the small electronics of the world. i'm going to go to bed before my ipod decides to poison my Pom juice.

bytes, unite.
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San Fran - WTF?

2007-08-10T18:10:00.000-04:00

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So. San Francisco... We gotta talk. Cuz seriously - I gotta ask you a question.

You have a gorgeous city. The architecture is stunning, the restaurants are fabulous, the music is incredible, the bar scene is seriously hot, the touristy stuff is cool, and the laid back intellectualism is awesome. Your weather leaves a bit to be desired, but I can overlook that.

So my question is...

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOUR MEN????

I have lived in NYC for 12 years. I have been in San Francisco for four days. And in the last four days, I have been heckled, harassed, stalked, followed, had my butt pinched, and had drinks spilled on me by more men than in the last decade in the Big Apple.

What, exactly, is supposed to be appealing to me when a taxi sedan driver pulls up and says "Hey baby, you look great... like you're ready to go salsa dancing... wanna ride with me?" First off, I'm wearing a business suit skirt that goes down to my knees, sneakers, a sweater, and a scarf - I do not look anything like I'm going salsa dancing. Second, do you honestly expect me to say "yes"? Really? Am I supposed to be flattered that your overweight ass is staring at mine and you're actually holding up traffic while you follow me down the street? And third, you want me to now GET... IN... YOUR... CAR? Are you friggin' kidding me?

If I walk by you on the street while you say "Hey baby, you looking for a date?" and I ignore you... do you think I want you to follow me for three blocks while you keep asking? And when you ask me "how you doin'" and I say "I was fine, until you started harassing me," is that not clear enough that I would really appreciate you leaving me alone?

If I'm at a bar, and you spill a drink on my shoulder (on purpose - yes, I could tell) and I say "No, I don't want you to buy me another drink"... do you think that's an invitation to keep following me around the bar and trying to spill a second drink on me in a lame (and really unimpressive) attempt at starting up a conversation? Hint: It's not. And here's another helpful hint - take off the wedding ring when you're trying to pick up women. I've had enough experience as a victim of a two-timing bastard to know that's the first rule. (As an informative aside, the second rule is don't use the cell phone that your wife pays for. Just sayin'.)

So San Fran boys, let me give you a little piece of admittedly unsolicited advice from NYC... unless I make a great deal of obvious eye contact (combined with a smile and not a scowl), offer to buy you a drink, or flag you down while you're driving a taxi, then the answers are "I'm not interested," "I'm definitely not interested," and "No I won't get in the car with you" to whatever it is that you're shouting in my direction.

Take a hint... back off! I guarantee that you'll have a much better chance at getting laid that way.
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Updates & Adventures

2007-08-07T23:33:00.000-04:00

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Whew! Gotta love life... it keeps you on your toes...

I started my new job today... (technically, I started yesterday, but that was basically a cross-country "commute" day to California where I began actual "training" today.) Besides the obvious contradiction in starting a "save the environment" job with a cross country flight (I'll be making up for that carbon load for a while, I can feel it), I am having an AWESOME time. The company is inspiring, the job is fantabulous, and I have an amazing amount of control, creativity and crafting to do in the upcoming months. Technically, the launch is end of September, but there's so much to do before then it's kinda creepy...

The up side - I have so much to look forward to and so many exciting things that I'm responsible for... this is the first time in a LONG time that I've felt inspired and creative and excited about my job... YAY! (The pay cut is incidental - after all, I've tried the "good paycheck, crap job" combo, so now I'm going to try the "crap paycheck, great job" route... and so far (the first 36 hours) have been perfect. Hee!)

The old life is nearly concluded, and the future is wide open. Just a few more days until the old apartment is sold, and the baggage is out the door.... Then, it's on to a new apartment for myself, and the road ahead is truly paved with dreams.... no regrets...

The adventures, ladies and gents, are just about to begin... and life... is... just... GRAND...

(I blame my flippantly optimisitc mood on a killer beverage I had this evening - which was definitely not organic - and the fact that a crazy boy is actually flying out here so that he can be with me for one day.... wow, not used to someone putting in that much effort into me... kinda weird.)

Masochistic Hair Stylist

2007-07-31T17:30:00.000-04:00

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I got my hair cut today. And I think my stylist was taking out her life frustrations on my head... my scalp is still throbbing.

I'm not a wuss when it comes to pulling hair. For my entire life I've had long hair (except for one unfortunate experiment with the "short hair is easier" myth in college - and no I don't have photos. I burned them.) With said locks, it's inevitable that you have to be rather stalwart, since it usually comes with plenty of painful associations. A few examples that come to mind are:

Boy on bus in 7th grade pulling my hair from the seat behind me. I caught him at one point and dug my nails into his hand. Yes, the hair pulling was annoying, but he suffered more than I did. Aaah, a feminist even then.
Hoodie- or turtleneck-induced "rat's nests" at the base of the neck, usually occurring in the winter months, and taking about an hour to release the hair, usually accompanied by much swearing and the desire to take a scissor and just hack the sucker out (after all, who would notice? It's underneath the rest of my hair!)
The classic "fell asleep with gum in my mouth and then it fell into my hair" issue. I don't even want to tell you how we got that out... but I will tell you I smelled of many choice chemicals for a few days.
Catching hair in car doors or closing windows on a few choice strands while cruising around town. (And why is it that the hairs that get caught are directly attached to the nerve endings that shoot pain into your eye?)
I grew up with a sister. We didn't wrestle, we pulled hair. 'Nuff said.

So the point is, I'm not a hair wimp. But yesterday, after returning from Africa (where the shampoo was as gentle as turpentine), I decided that I needed to clean up the crackly ends of my locks that felt more like straw than actual human hair.

My stylist (who shall remain nameless), started out well, even though avoiding catching the comb in hoop earrings seems to be a perpetual challenge for her (note to self: next time you're entering haircut combat, remove all jewelry.) But the pain really started when she started blow drying. As anyone with any hair probably knows, wet, sticky hands running through your hair is NOT pleasant. Add scorching hot air and it's enough to want Novocaine scalp injections.

Then came the combing... and apparently in style school, the remedy for tangled hair is to pull really hard until the knot (or the hair) comes out... preferably with a large-tooth comb that has no flexibility whatsoever. I wouldn't be surprised if at some point, she had a professor for whom having a piece of bloodied scalp stuck to the ends was worth some extra credit. This went on for about 30 minutes.

I was never so happy to be done with a hair cut. And I was never more perplexed as to why this torture would cost me $80 (and you want a tip for this????) My head throbbed for hours. And while I've been known to be slightly sarcastic in my humor, I am not lying when I say that I took an aspirin later to cure my hair-cut hangover headache.

I was thinking of dying my hair red in the next few weeks... but maybe I'll find a gentler stylist before I do that. One that uses a chainsaw or something.
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When you just can't choose pink

2007-07-30T19:44:00.001-04:00

When they said "Pick a color", I just couldn't bring myself to say "pink".... this is the end game:
(at least it wasn't my hair... this time)
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Jobbity job job job!

2007-07-23T15:50:00.000-04:00

I am officially (almost) employed! I just accepted a job offer... and it's one that I'm very, very excited about. I start in two weeks... yay!

Let's have a drink to new beginnings, new friends, new directions... Oh, life is most excellently good, ladies and germs... I am happy.

So stop smoking, eat your veggies, recycle... and smile.

:-)

And for the sake of being repetitive and annoying, here's my Africa blog again:
http://beth-in-africa.blogspot.com

Puter puter puter

2007-07-22T17:31:00.000-04:00

Dang, not having my computer working is frustrating... but I've been making progress on my Africa blog. It's much longer than I had anticipated, but it's giving me a nice distraction from the annoying realities of life. Aaaah, isn't denial blissful?..... :-)

http://beth-in-africa.blogspot.com/

The blog is fun, and I hope some of you are enjoying it. I took WAY to many pictures, and am trying to keep it down to the interesting ones, but every sunset was more gorgeous than the last, so what's a girl to do but annoy the online world with it? The only regret was that I didn't have someone to go with me... it was simply too romantic for words. Oh well - no sense crying over lost causes. I'll just have to make a plan to go back one day... But I promise when I'm done with the novel-length blog that this is turning into, I'll create a shorter version for you too.

Meanwhile, I'm living at my sister's house, and got on a massive cleaning spree yesterday. I Windexed and 409'd the crap out of her kitchen and downstairs, and the place looks all shiny-happy. If I'm borrowing her house, I may as well earn my keep, right? I think they may want me to mow the lawn at some point. Fun stuff, this domestic suburban life. I do miss my chinese delivery, though.

In other news, a boy is returning to NYC on Tuesday. I'm also slowly recovering from jet lag (I woke up at 6:30am instead of 4:30am this morning - progress!) and am working out fiendishly. I "ran" to town and back today (how far is that? It felt like 10 miles, but it was probably about 1.) I have decided that in general, I suck at running. I am much better at useless things like karate and dumb workout videos. But I do need to do a little work before I have to walk 39 miles in October. Oh, how I dream of an apartment big enough (and a wallet thick enough) to buy an elliptical machine!!! But my bro-in-law gave me a great training tip - run into town, then stop at the Starbucks, pick up a latte, and walk home. "It's a nice long cool-down" he says. Hee. I like his way of thinking.

My motivation: Brownies waiting back at the house. (The other motivation: the boy. (*grin*))

New blog for Africa

2007-07-20T10:04:00.000-04:00

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The jet lag when traveling west is fabulous! I was up at 5:30am and have been terrifyingly productive this morning. I'm slowly making my way through the photos (thanks to my sister who said I could monopolize her computer for a while.) It's taking me a while to get through everything, so I've started a new blog for people who want the LONG version of my journey:

http://beth-in-africa.blogspot.com/

It took me two hours this morning to edit everything together for just the first two postings, so forgive me for the slow progress. But I'll be adding the days to my journey and I hope you find it an interesting read! Right now, I'm off to take a walk to town and run some errands before it gets too hot.
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Returning from the other side of the planet

2007-07-19T09:54:00.000-04:00

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I have officially returned from the other side of the planet! I admit that I did attempt (once) to post a blog during the one day that I had internet access in Zimbabwe. But because of the political and economic strife there, the power was shut down while I was working on it and it never made it up.

Africa was - to unfairly summarize - indescribable. It was a trip of a lifetime, and it has moved me to the point where I'm still trying to grasp everything that I saw, felt, smelled, and ate. The animals were spectacular, the scenery was exotic and beautiful, and the people were some of the most moving I've ever met. Their stories are inspiring, tragic, hopeful, and humorous... and I will be sure to share them with you soon. I'm still having culture shock after being in the bush for several weeks, and the sheer opulence of the U.S. is rather startling after witnessing such poverty.

I took over 1200 photos, and I kept a journal through my trip, which I'm planning on sharing with you. For those of you who want the long version, I'll be working on it... but I'll also provide a Cliff Notes version to those with shorter attention spans. Stay tuned for that in the coming days.

First, though, I have to unpack my bag (yes, I made it under 26 pounds!), do laundry, get a few groceries (though my sister and bro-in-law left me one coffee yogurt in the fridge for this morning - dang, I love them so much!), and figure out how to get the 1200 photos off of my camera and into my 'puter... which is still in a box in the basement. But stay tuned, dear friends... life is getting interesting.
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Tutaonana baadaye

2007-06-22T11:55:00.000-04:00

We have made it, ladies and gents! The apartment is packed, and the last remnants are to be shoved in the back of my sister's van in the wee hours of tomorrow morning, to be shipped to CT for indefinite storage. Then, I shove myself and my 26 pounds of luggage into a van, head to the airport and spend way too much time on a plane... destination: Johannesburg.

The obvious impending news is that I'm leaving for Africa in one day... whoo! But there are so many other events on the horizon that I feel like my brain is being pulled in a million directions. It's fabulous... I'll post it all when I get back, or when things actually get finalized to the point of actual newsworthiness. Until then... tutaonana baadaye...

Counting down...

2007-06-21T10:06:00.001-04:00

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Two more days until I board the plane! Wow, I can't believe that it's here. It's amazing how fast time flies when you're not paying much attention to it.

The preparations are almost done - although since I"m limited to only 26 pounds of luggage for the entire trip, I'm having to do some juggling and wardrobe acrobatics to figure out how to make that happen. So far, I think I have about 40 pounds of luggage... and I haven't packed a toothbrush yet. So today is paring-down time, as I try to remember what I brought to Guatemala last year and didn't use. The trick this time is that it's "winter" in Africa... and while one would expect it to be quite warm anyway, apparently the overnights (and our 'sunrise safaris') may be as chilly as 35, while some days are reporting a high of 85. It seems strange to be packing a bathing suit and a scarf.

The movers came on Tuesday and they were brilliant. They started at 8:00am and were finished and in the truck by 8:40. It was a whirlwind, and the guys were very nice. I don't watch much TV (or, I thought I didn't), but it's still strange not to be able to have a television in the apartment. Even though it was never on, the place seems oddly quiet now that it's not available. I've been streaming NPR on the 'puter for the last day just to keep some current events information in my brain. The movers brought everything to the storage unit, which was nice, too, but a tad more expensive than I had anticipated and in a strange part of town. Oh well, such is the way in NYC I suppose... and that's why priority #1 when I return is getting a place to live and some income.

Off to pack... or, "de-pack", as the case may be... ;-)
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Thoroughly NYC weekend

2007-06-18T15:27:00.001-04:00

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There are times when NYC is a total drag - too many people (Times Square at 7:45pm), too loud (semi truck horns), stinky (cigarettes and rotting garbage), snobby (all I asked for was a glass of water), sticky (I don't want to know what that is on my shoe)...

... but there are times when NYC basically rocks my world. Last night, I went to The Public theater to see Passing Strange, a rock-out modern musical by Stew. It was an absolutely incredible experience. The theater itself is a gorgeous space, formerly a public library. The staging of Passing Strange was brilliant... a tale of a musical maturation of a young boy who travels around the world to learn about "art" and find "the real", all while his mother - back in Los Angeles - also struggles to find herself and love her child while he rebels against her.

The music - awe-inspiring. The cast - brilliant and painfully talented (I think I may have a crush on *all* of the the women in the show, especially de'Adre Aziza.) The staging - inspirational - with a 180-degree theater (and we had seats nearly ON the stage), every inch of the theater was used beautifully. The lighting - artistic and minimal, but expressive and appropriate (the lighting designer was the same for Spring Awakening, which also featured inspiring expression by bare bulbs of all colors and types. Very cool.) The show - sexy, funny, poignant, moving, probing, jarring, and introspective... Daniel Breaker's character's journey through the maturation of his artistic expression opened up a fabulous conversation afterwards with my companion about the meaning and relevance of art, growing older, personal expression and finding what's "real" in the world... a challenge which the narrator - Stew himself - expresses with painful self-analysis at the conclusion of the show. (I do want to note that calling Stew simply "the narrator" of the show thoroughly under-represents his powerful presence, wit, and brilliant musical interludes throughout the performance.)

After the show was over, we walked through the warm streets of the Village, and I was totally energized by the emotions invoked by the show. We strolled to the West Village, and had a delicious late-night dinner at a local restaurant, talking about heavy issues in light-hearted ways. Sitting in the open window, we shared a beer, ate garlicky food, and took in the sights and sounds of the West side's sultry Sunday evening pace, after which we joined in, walking down the streets together. Quite possibly, ladies and gentlemen, I have experienced the perfect New York City evening... and it definitely did not suck.

In other, far more pedestrian news, the movers come tomorrow to put my life in a 5'x5'x8' storage facility box... and I have rarely felt so liberated. To finally be physically seeing the results of over a year's worth of trying to "move" forward... tomorrow, the journey literally begins.

The weather is warm, the sun in shining, emotions are high...

Life... is... good...
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Updating...

2007-06-17T12:32:00.001-04:00

I've been sadly neglecting the blogging lately, admittedly because I've been distracted with packing, moving preparations, and overall lack of blog-worthy events happening in my life. I'll also admit that last week was a pretty extreme emotional rollercoaster, with some pretty low moments. But somehow that's alleviated itself, and the feelings have swapped into a more upbeat rythm in the last few days. (I will fully admit that maybe that has something to do with recent social interactions with a specific person, but that's for later. For now, let's just say walking around New York City is so much better when you're holding hands with someone. *smile*)

I did see "Company" on Broadway the other day, which was a thoroughly enjoyable, if disturbing, view on relationships, marriage and singledom in New York City. I've also been doing a lot of reading lately, though for the life of me I can't figure out where I've found the time to do that. I forget how much I enjoy reading the Sunday New York Times. (I also forget how good I feel after I do a workout, but a regular return to that routine is going to have to wait for post-safari.) But most of the last week has been spent cleaning, organizing, packing, repacking, and preparing for Africa.

As for Africa, I can't believe that I'm actually going - it's been a dream for so long that to think that it's going to be a reality is almost too much for me to process. It's such an abstract idea and long-held goal that to reach the point where I'm boarding a plane for the continent has not sunk in yet. Africa - and staying in an overwater hut in Fiji - have been the two places that have been on my list since... well... since there *was* a list. Fiji I'm saving for a honeymoon (aren't I optimistic?)... but one dream coming true is so exceedingly liberating and exciting that I can't begin to describe how bizarre it feels to say "I'm leaving for a month-long safari in Africa in 6 days." Joy!!

New favorite magazine du jour: Wired (which doesn't replace my always-fave Discover).
New favorite TV show du jour: Who's Line is it Anyway? (the original version from London, which doesn't replace The Daily Show, but is better for lifting spirits during depression spells.)
New favorite song du jour: Sea Lion Woman by Feist (inspired by an old folk song. The dance track version - which is also awesome - is only available on the album download though, so I'm passing on that for now.)
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Gettin' old...

2007-06-09T18:38:00.001-04:00

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After four straight days of massive progress, massive box-moving, and massive upheaval of my life's acquired piles of 'stuff', I kind of crashed a little bit today. I did manage, this morning, to go through all my paperwork and files, and clean out the old stuff and organize the new (as well as make a respectable load of shredded papers that I'm saving for packing up the fragile items.) But it wasn't nearly as visually productive as previous days. There were a lot of emotionally-charged items that I saved from last year that were cathartic to shred, were difficult to deal with. The lack of progress doesn't bother me too much, though, because my back is killing me from moving around my overstuffed boxes yesterday. Ugh. I feel old. (I should learn that filling boxes full of books isn't a wise move. But I haven't learned that yet, and re-packing *anything* at this point is simply not an option.)

So this afternoon, instead of packing, I rode the train north to babysit my nephews while my sister and her husband enjoy a night out at a restaurant that doesn't have paper table coverings or crayons (a rare event in their lives.) I figured that if I'm going to be moving in, I should at least give them the perks of free babysitting while I'm here. Plus they bought me pizza so it's the least I could do.

Tomorrow is a BBQ at a friend's house - and a day off from packing until Monday. Next week, I also need to decide if I'm going to replace my desktop PC (which has been acting decidedly ornery lately) with another computer... and if I do, should I get a Mac laptop or another PC desktop? The laptop route makes sense (since I'm sure I'll be moving into a postage-stamp-sized apartment eventually), but the point might be moot if I don't get a lead on a job sometime soon. Still just window shopping at this point... but if it's going to happen, I will need to clean up the 'puter, back up the files, make sure everything works on the new system, and then donate it... all in the next 2 weeks. Phew!!

Okay, I'm off to brush four sets of teeth, read a million books, and try to get 4 boys into bed before they convince me that "ice cream IS allowed in bed! mom let's us do it ALL THE TIME!"

p.s. Only 14 days left until I leave for Africa... excitement!
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Living room

2007-06-08T18:26:00.000-04:00

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Wow. Moving sucks.

And for the record, living room is MUCH harder to pack than wardrobe. There are lots of emotionally-charged items here - more so than in the closet. And not nearly as much Salvation Army stuff to donate, which makes me a little sad that I couldn't fill up the suitcase again. But I barrelled through, after a bit of a late start (breakfast with a friend), and decided to start by piling everything into the middle of the room and taking a look at the entire bunch before diving in:
Three and half hours later, things looked much worse (see below.) But my sister encouraged me via email, and I took a quick field trip to the bank to turn some collected change into bills, and that re-energized me (along with a brownie-snack).Oops, I got slightly distracted and was trying to be artistic with my new camera for a second....End result, after 6 1/2 hours straight of packing is a 80 pound bag of garbage, a few items for the women's shelter, a pile of books to donate to the library, and 4 packed boxes. Oh, and the random pile of stuff on the right is stuff I'm taking up to my sister for storage / gifting / etc.

At some point soon, I'm going to have to work on organizing the stuff for my Africa trip a little better, though... think all that stuff weighs less than 26 pounds? Somehow I doubt it...
For now, though, dinner, and maybe a quick trip to the local Mexican restaurant for a pina colada. Anyone want to join me? (After I shower, of course. I kinda smell funny.)
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Summer wardrobe

2007-06-07T19:38:00.001-04:00

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Packing continued in earnest today, aided by the fact that I could actually SEE progress yesterday (provided that you opened the closet door.) Today was a bit more complicated, since it involved packing up the spring/summer wardrobe - a wardrobe that I happen to also be wearing, and simultaneously using as a basis to pack for my trip to Africa. Plus I needed to keep a few items out of the boxes in order to take to my sister's for post-trip (since after several weeks in the same 3 pairs of pants and 4 shirts, I'll have no desire to have anything further to do with them except perhaps watch them burn in the fire pit.) So the usual three piles turned into ....

Items that will be put into storage
Salvation Army donation pile
Throw away (today, nothing was thrown out! Yay!)
Things to bring on my trip to Africa
Stuff to keep at my sister's for when I return

This made things a bit more complicated, and I found myself at times simply staring into the closet with a blank look on my face trying to figure out how all of this was going to actually happen.

End result: Success! (If you round up, which I do.) A few stragglers remain (a pair of sandals that are ugly, but waterproof, so may have some value while traipsing around Victoria Falls) but overall, a banner kind of day. And another heavily laden trip to the Salvation Army Women's Shelter. Today's stuffed-to-the-point-of-exploding suitcase load included:

2 dresses
1 sweater
8 shirts/blouses/tops
3 pants I'm too fat for
1 pair jeans I'm too skinny for
2 work blazers
1 fleece
10 purses/bags/totes (!?!!)
2 scarves
1 hat
1 pair of pantyhose (unused, thank you very much)
1 pair of dressy 'going out' shoes (they gave me too many blisters)
The remainder of the bottles from the collection previously mentioned, which came to 76 bottles/tubes/boxes (Yes, I counted them. Anything for procrastination.)

The apartment is a disaster area, but progress is being made. And can I just tell you, there's something extremely rewarding about taking a daily trip to donate to a shelter and unloading a MASSIVE suitcase full of stuff for a good cause. It made me smile the whole way home. (They were a little bummed, I think, that I didn't donate the suitcase... both times I've stopped by, they have asked if I'm leaving it as a donation, and eyed it longingly.) Still, it makes me appreciate what I have, even in this time of extreme personal life upheaval.

There is a lady at the shelter who sits at the front door - I think she's a resident there. A little lady, with white hair. Yesterday, I said "Hello!" and she didn't respond. Today, I said "Hello!" and she said "Hello" back to me. It made me smile.

Now, dinner and bed. I'm *exhausted*.

Tomorrow's task: Pack up the living room (including taking LARGE amounts of coins to the bank. Perhaps it was a bad idea to donate all of those tote bags today... hmmm.)
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Winter wardrobe

2007-06-06T19:07:00.000-04:00

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So today's task was to pack up all the winter wardrobe stuff. And by packing, of course, it means taking everything out of storage, pulling everything out of the closet, putting it out on the living room floor, dividing it into three piles: Salvation Army, Keep, and Toss. The apartment is a disaster. It's absolutely stunning to me how much crap can fit into such a small space. I mean really, this place is only 600 square feet... and half of it's not even mine!!

I'm happy to say that only 3 pairs of shoes were in such bad shape that they had to get thrown away. And I took one HUGE overstuffed suitcase load down to the Salvation Army, which included:

14 sweaters (do I even *wear* sweaters!?!?)
1 long knitted skirt (which I love, but was only worn once in the last year)
2 sweatshirts (don't wear them, ever, unless I'm at my sister's house, where I freeze my tuckas off regularly, so I borrow her sweatshirts.)
1 jacket (I bought a replacement this past fall)
1 knitted poncho (remember when those were in? Very "Martha post-jail")
1 pair of men's jeans (No, they are not my ex's. I honestly don't know whose they are... and clean up your dirty mind - they have been stuck in the closet for YEARS with no claims of ownership.)
7 pairs of women's shoes (That's one-third of my entire shoe collection, ladies and gents! Be proud!)
1 cordless phone and extension phone
1 Yumi Katsura wedding dress with matching veil

I have to say, as much as it pains me to see my wedding dress "go" like that, I felt a huge wave of relief that it is all going to a very, very good place (the Salvation Army donation center is in the same building as a shelter for women, so I hope they get first dibs on the stuff.) This collection of stuff didn't include 2 more sweatshirts, 2 more sweaters, 2 blazers, and 70 bottles of beauty products that I simply couldn't fit into the suitcase. Those will have to go in the shipment to donate tomorrow.

All in all, I fit all of my remaining winter wardrobe and shoes (including formal gowns) into one wardrobe box, which I'm pretty proud of. Granted, it's pretty squashed in there, but hey, I'm a girl... what do you expect?

Tomorrow's task: Pack remaining clothing, shoes and bags (except for the stuff I'm bringing to Africa). And then get a margarita. Or three.

P.S. Totally random addition: Last week, the cleaning lady who has been with me for 5+ years was here for her last day. (Or at least her last day until I find a new home.) I have, over the last 8 months or so, slowly been replacing my cleaning products with more environmentally-friendly versions - mostly Mrs. Meyers Clean Day or Seventh Generation brands. Well, she LOVED them and has now swapped all of her own cleaning products to Mrs. Meyers, and is encouraging all of her other clients to do so as well. Yay Earth!
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Obscenity on the internet

2007-06-05T17:56:00.001-04:00

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I'm usually against obscenity on the internet. And honestly, I was almost too embarassed to post this online. But what I happened to find today in my cleaning up of my bathroom was absolutely gross, so I had to share.

So okay, I know I'm a pack rat. And I know that I work(ed) in a profession where this kind of product acquisition is pretty status quo. Keep in mind as you gaze upon this collection of beauty products that I had stashed in my bathroom that I have managed to gather over 125 bottles, tubes, tubs, and boxes in the last few years... and I never spent any money on any of it. There is probably $2,000 worth of goo on my kitchen table. I have moisturizers, soaps, anti-aging goo, lotions, wrinkle creams, exfoliators, foot treatments, eye creams, hair removers, hair creams, shampoos, bubble baths, bath oils, loofahs, makeup... You name it, it's probably in here, and I probably have it in three different scents...

None of this has ever been opened or used. None of it was purchased - it was all sent to me at work (with a few exceptions where they were gifts. If you gave them to me - sorry.) Now, if that's not obscene, I don't know what is.

Maybe I am high maintenance after all. (*sigh*)

Anyway, if you want any of it, just let me know.

And can I just say it's a nice coping mechanism to bury myself in physical labor when my emotions are a wreck. It's either a coping mechanism or total denial. I'll figure out which later.

Tomorrow's task: "Pack clothes, bags, and shoes - except what I need for Africa." Ugh. I'm going to need brownies for this one.
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Spinsters and the pets that love them

2007-06-05T09:24:00.000-04:00

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After a full day of packing yesterday, I threw out 3 HUGE garbage bags of stuff, filled the shredder three times with old paperwork, filled my obnoxiously huge suitcase to the brim with donations for the Salvation army, and packed two (heavy) boxes for storage.

Unfortunately, I threw out 3 HUGE garbage bags of stuff, filled the shredder three times with old paperwork, filled my obnoxiously huge suitcase to the brim with donations for the Salvation army, and packed two (heavy) boxes for storage.... and my apartment doesn't look any different than it did before I started. Hrmph.

So in the interest of being very Capricorn (and unable to keep a train of thought from one room of my apartment to the next), I made a list of what I'm packing every day. And to keep me on track, I'm going to make the process public by listing the tasks du jour: (Yes, I'm boring. I've already been told that. Moving on.)

Today's task: Pack the bathroom

P.S. I had a revelation last night... I won't grow up to be a spinster with cats. Why? I'm allergic to cats. So instead of cats, it'll have to be... fish. I'll grow up to be a spinster with fish. One of those really big, huge aquariums with lots of pretty fish... and maybe a turtle.
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This is why my family rocks

2007-06-04T17:11:00.000-04:00

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The perfect email from my sister this morning:

I know it is rainy and yucky and you are not exactly chipper today because of it. But you MUST GET OUT OF BED.
We love you.

it worked. i'm up.
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Rainy day.

2007-06-03T22:53:00.000-04:00

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it's pouring rain in New York City.
the city lights shimmer on the streets.

i donated my wedding dress to the salvation army.
i sold my rings to a stranger.
i honestly hope they bring some joy to someone else.

but me... i'm sad tonight.
very sad.
it feels weak to admit that i'm afraid of being alone...
afraid of not having someone to share life with...
grow old with...
tonight, the feeling looms large.

the rain is appropriate, somehow.
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Why I Was Fired

2007-05-31T16:33:00.001-04:00

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For the last company picnic, management decided that, due to liability issues, we could have alcohol, but only one (1) drink per person.

I was fired for ordering the cups.......

(I'll miss you, Dan!)

Glasses, revised....

2007-05-30T09:39:00.001-04:00

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I've been writing a ton in the last few days - especially yesterday. But nothing I've written feels appropriate to post to the general public. But I know that a few of you are looking for updates on my life, so:

Glass half full version:
I'm heading to Africa for nearly a month. I was supposed to take this trip as a 5th anniversary celebration, but you all know what happened to that. But I'm taking the trip anyway. (And let me tell you - it's going to be AWESOME! Isn't Africa supposed to be the birthplace of the human race? Perhaps it will provide a cathartic rebirth of sorts for me as well.) I'm downsizing my crap (read: throwing out a lot of the "stuff" that I thought was important, but I've realized lately is just "stuff.") I'm on the knife's edge of getting out of a marriage that wasn't treating me the way I deserve to be treated, so now I get to find someone who will appreciate me. I was downsized out of my job, but I will find a better work environment - one that appreciates hard work, diligent thoroughness, and a good attitude, as opposed to complaining whiners who kiss butt instead of making progress. I have an absolutely stunningly amazing family who loves me and supports me (even when I want to stay in bed all day) and will let me be their full-time, live-in super-aunt-nanny (in exchange for room, board, brownies and lots of tickle tag).

Someone I was talking to yesterday told me that I seem to be the type of person that always lands on my feet. But really - do I have a choice? After all, staying in bed all day is only fun if there's someone in the bed with you.... hee hee

P.S. Really frighteningly weird horoscope today: "A new situation in your workplace means that you'll have more flexibility and freedom, but a few old structures might have to be torn down first. Knowing that you'll come out on top eases the transition." (hahahahahahaha!)
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The roof is on fire...

2007-05-25T15:24:00.001-04:00

The wrap party was - well - a wrap party! The usual suspects drank too many margaritas (and rumors of the after-party's aftermath set the office abuzz today.) The food was fabulous, the view was spectacular, and the drinks were WAY strong...

But I guess the party got a little too hot a few blocks away, when the roof of a building caught fire... (two firefighters were slightly injured, but otherwise, no casualties, except the water tower...) We had quite a dramatic view for about an hour:

Meeting Sim

2007-05-24T11:30:00.000-04:00

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Last night was another spectacularly "New York" moment... I was invited to a gallery opening at the Whitney Museum of American Art - "Summer of Love: Art of the Psychedelic Era". The fascinating collection of multimedia art and popular culture was rivaled only by the unique crowd that came to the opening gala. Present was every type of expressive artist personality imagined, including the not just the expected art society upper-crust, but also present were true-blue hippies (I think they were wearing the same clothing from 1969), young socialites, academics, stuffy know-it-alls, biker dudes, and even a few children (one of which was particularly enamored with a chair made completely of silk flowers.) The media exhibits were the most striking, with everything from visually violent strobe-light rooms lined with reflective Mylar that literally attacked the senses (epileptics avoid this one!), to the relaxing and trance-inducing work of Thomas Wilfred.

There were quite a few photographs and art pieces criticizing the Vietnam war, which were incredibly violent and visceral. I literally had to look away from them after the initial viewing because they were so disturbing. Many of the editorial posters reminded me of criticisms of the war today: "Why are we at war?" "When's it going to stop?" and a particularly poignant poster that read something along the lines of "Haven't we learned from the past?" These messages, shown - at times - adjacent to the more flippant displays, such as an entire room made from undulating shapes of neon-colored foam.

Overall, my first gallery opening was a fascinating, if slightly surreal experience. At one point, a gentleman approached me and my companion and said "What a lovely couple. Where are you going on your honeymoon?" (I told him that as of yet, I had not been asked a question that would warrant consideration of a honeymoon destination, so the question was moot.) He had ethereal tufts of shocking white hair floating about his head like a halo, and a white goatee to match. Dressed impeccably in an English riding jacket, with a flamboyantly colorful and oversized pocket kerchief (he made it himself), he opined that I was "wearing a great dress, but the summer is the time for color. Perhaps a periwinkle scarf - in a barely-there silk fabric that would float around your neck. Yes, that would be perfect." He then excused himself, and when I shook his hand goodbye, he said "Yes, it was very nice to meet me." Overall, the encounter fit perfectly with the slightly drug-induced feeling that the exhibition exuded, and when I chanced upon him later, I hesitated before asking him his name (how disappointing if it was something pedestrian!) But curiosity won - his name was "Sim." My only regret is that I didn't bring along my camera to snap a photo of us together. But perhaps it's best that he live on in my imagination... peace out...

On a far less cultured note, we wrapped up the season at work today - our last show just finished not 3 minutes ago (I'm watching on the internal feed.) I still have no idea if I have a job next week... I'm thinking that either way, the news will be a blessing. The anxiety of not knowing has been driving a spike of pain through my head for the last two days. Hopefully I'll hear the news soon (today?) about my future employment... and then - no matter which way the decision goes - I'll have a direction to aim my compass! I'll keep you all posted...

p.s. 30 days to Africa! Yay!
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Salad Stress

2007-05-21T13:58:00.000-04:00

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One of the best things about New York is the food. But over the last week or so, I've eaten like a horse (starting with a serious overdose of fondue last Saturday, steaks the size of Texas on Sunday, sushi until my stomach hurt on Wednesday, and pasta & brownies as a consolation for PMS on Friday) and haven't worked out worth a spit, except for a few random spurts of push ups here and there. So today, PMS has officially passed, but I feel the desperate need for an influx of healthy fare.

So I went to my favorite nearby salad place (keep in mind that salad places are like Starbucks - they are literally on every corner in New York City) to get a yay-good-for-me salad.

But the problem with healthy salads is that they're tasteless, so of course you have to choose a little something unhealthy in your 'fixins' to give it some flavor. The problem I have, when faced with a plethora of topping choices, is that if I haven't narrowed down my choices by the time I get there, I just panic and start pointing at things behind the sneezy-glass at random. So today I've managed to come up with one of the most unique salads ever...

Start off with small spinach as a base. I know I need an influx of greenery, so throw some peas in there. Add artichoke hearts, cuz they're super-yum. It's starting to look a little too green, though, so I tell the dude to toss in some roasted red peppers. I read last week that cranberries are supposed to be really good for you, so I point to the dried cranberries too. Throw in some feta cheese (because what's a good salad without cheese) and then mix with a fat-free raspberry vinaigrette dressing.

Feta and peas?
Roasted peppers and dried cranberries?
It was all I could do to resist pointing to the chic peas.

This is, without a doubt, the Most. Random. Salad. Ever.
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Turn right at Heathrow...

2007-05-20T19:27:00.000-04:00

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The search for real estate began in earnest this weekend. And wow, what a weird, weird world. The rental market is a joke - what people are asked to put up with for 2 grand a month is appalling (400 square feet, 5th floor walkup, no light, old bathroom, no kitchen.) And in light of the horror stories relayed to me by my workmates of renting, I am reconsidering my decision not to buy.

So today, I went a'shoppin' with a real estate agent for apartments. Keep in mind that I'm downsizing significantly... I have about half the budget now, and while I have a great financial down payment, the month-to-month out of pocket is still limited. So today, I looked at a few 300-square-foot apartments that were tiny, but held a great deal of promise. My real estate "agent", however, is making me a little nervous. She informed me today that she's 21 years old, and has only ever handled rentals so far... This would be her first sale.

Eeek.

Now I know as well as anyone that you have to start somewhere... and the poor girl will have her first real estate transaction happen at some point. But a) why do I have to be her first, and b) why did she have to *tell me* that I would be her first?

I also have another reason to hesitate - I don't technically know yet if I'll have a job after June 1st. The entertainment industry likes to keep people on their toes like that... and year-to-year contract renewals aren't announced until the last day of production. So not only could I conceivably be out of my apartment in a few weeks, but I could also be out of a job.

Homeless and unemployed. Now what guy wouldn't be turned on by *that* in the online dating profile, eh? (*read in a slightly sarcastic tone*)

So my next thought - when I go to Africa in June, I'll just take the proceeds from the apartment, and - instead of turning left at Heathrow on the way back - I'll just turn right and keep going around the world... because hey, if I'm going to be homeless and unemployed, I may as well make the most of it, don't you think?
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New Toys...

2007-05-16T21:53:00.000-04:00

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It's only a few more weeks until I take my adventures to Africa (safari and giraffes, here I come!) My little camera - while fabulous - just wasn't going to cut the butter when it came to zooming in to capture decent images of faraway beasties. So I decided to bite the bullet, and bought myself a new toy (thanks to some recommendations from friends):
As a test run, I decided to test it out in the wildlands of Connecticut... Here's the wide shot...
And here's a zoomed-in shot from the same spot:

Not bad! Although I do hope that I'm not quite this close to any hungry lionesses or anything... yikes!

My sister, for mother's day, got a new toy of her own... let's hear it for chicas with electronics!!

Dream life

2007-05-15T18:21:00.000-04:00

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Nah, life's not perfect... but who would want it to be? I do have my ups and downs, I'll admit (and today was no exception), but overall, I'm feeling like I'm in a good place now. Empowered and enlivened - ready to sculpt the shape of my future, and simultaneously accept what life deals out and go with the flow.

The only thing that's messing with my head is my dream world. (Which culture is it that thinks that the dream world is just as valid of a reality as the waking one? I think I read that somewhere.)

Last night, in my dream life, my boyfriend from high school was walking down the hallway in front of me, saying hi and schmoozing with everyone - a serious car salesman type of guy. And I kept trying to catch up to say hello, but he was walking far too fast, and the crush of people seemed to conspire to keep me lagging. It morphed into a situation where I knew I was being followed by someone with less-than-noble intentions. But there was no sense of dread - I felt like I could defend myself if necessary - but I called 911 anyway, and asked them to send help. They refused to send anything other than an EMT-in-training until I convinced them that it was more serious.

So I turned suddenly (hoping to catch my stalker by surprise and thus gain an upper hand) and the scene suddenly swapped to a burnt-out hull of a building in a post-apocalyptic war scene, where a group of "us" (I am not even sure what defined "us") were being held captive by "them". (Do you remember the 1984 movie "Red Dawn"? Wow, talk about flashbacks. It felt like something along those lines, where we were watching a guerrilla war go on in a valley below where we were holed up.) I don't remember being afraid, exactly, but there was a definite sense of watchful expectation - a kind of out-of-the-ordinary, building up of tension and the anticipation of an inevitable course towards an impending (and probably violent) action... I could smell the smoke, feel the gravel under my shoes, and hear the gunfire and people yelling as they approached our camp. It was startlingly real, and fascinatingly tactile... and then...

...I was awoken by nauseatingly mundane sounds in my apartment...

...exceedingly anti-climatic....

...humph.

But lest you be disappointed, boys and girls, don't worry - today was 89 degrees, sunny, and it was National Chocolate Chip Day. And really, how can you complain about anything on National Chocolate Chip Day? I'm off to dinner... sushi tonight. Yay fish.
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Tagged!!

2007-05-14T11:43:00.000-04:00

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The pseudo-underground networking amongst bloggers creates not only unwritten rules and etiquette about blogging... but I have now for the first time, experienced blogger-spam! Femminista "tagged" me the other day with a Seven Things meme. I'm not sure where this came from (and I've never heard of a "meme," nor do I know how to pronounce it), but I'm game for new adventures... so here we go:

These are the rules:
Each player starts with seven random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to choose seven people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!

For inspiration, I looked up "seven" and found lots of fascinating factoids out there that I could use as a launching point for my seven things. There are seven areas in liberal arts (natural science, social science, political science, history, writing or literature, mathematics, and art or music); Shakespeare divided the course of human life into seven ages (infancy, childhood, the lover, the soldier, the justice, old age, and death); There are seven colors in the rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet)... it goes on and on (seven deadly sins, seven wonders of the ancient world) and there are some random ones that for some reason fascinate me (there are seven openings in the human head, seven points on a sheriff's star, seven stellar objects in the solar system visible to the naked eye (sun, moon, mars, mercury, jupiter, venus,and saturn), and that seven is the most common number chosen when people are asked to pick a random number between 1 and 10.)

Of course, then it came time to write my seven things, and I was suddenly stumped and couldn't think of anything the least bit creative. And I'm PMS'ing. So I decided to go with what life is handing me and stick to the PMS theme:

1. I love the combination of salt and chocolate... chocolate covered pretzels are one of my favorites, and Chubby Hubby ice cream is simply divine. I prefer dark-ish chocolate, but really, anything will do. I also have an irresistible craving for Tostito's Hint of Lime tortilla chips... but they make me feel kind of icky afterwards.

2. I don't cry very often - it takes a lot to set me off. But sometimes it only takes a Hallmark commercial, or listening to something by Michael Nyman (or apparently watching Gladiator) to bring on the tears. Random, I know... but there's no room for logic here.

3. I kind of like my once-a-month gift of "larger than usual" boobs... but it admittedly hurts to work out or run at those points. Still, I overall appreciate the fact that I sleep on my stomach without any problems.

4. Every once in a while, I go on a Windex kick, where I'll literally wander around my apartment and Windex any and all surface areas. (I will even sometimes Windex the floors, because I hate vacuuming and mopping that much.) I'm trying to switch to more environmentally-friendly products than Windex, but so far, the best I've done is switch to recycled paper towels. Sorry, Earth.

5. I loathe shopping for shoes, jewelry, or clothing... until about this time of month. Go figure.

6. I've never had to take Midol or anything for cramping... but I'm finding that as I get old, I get more and more sensitive to medications in general. Usually I only take about 1/2 dose of anything (like aspirin or cold medicine) and that does the trick. I've found that it's true with alcohol too, with two beers making me very very happy. Apparently this sensitivity is a Capricorn thing.

7. Recently I have been craving blanched spinach with a little bit of salt or lemon juice. I have no idea why, but I can literally eat 4-5 servings of the stuff in one sitting.

There. Pretty useless information, I'll admit. But that is where my brain is today...

The second part of the assignment admittedly stumps me. I don't know seven bloggers, much less seven people I can "tag" by leaving comments (except on myspace, which I am so over. The only reason I leave up a myspace profile at all is because I have friends from high school and college who have found me there.) So instead of blogger-spam, I'm going to have to "tag" people with good old fashioned email spam. Sorry, y'all...
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Happy Mother's Day

2007-05-13T23:58:00.000-04:00

I love you, mom...

100th Post

2007-05-11T10:53:00.000-04:00

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Apparently, there is some underground blog rule that when you post your 100th blog, you have to write 100 things about yourself. While in the process of reading this blog, you've probably learned more about me than you'd like already, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Unfortunately, I could only come up with 17 things on my own, and most of those were pretty lame. So I looked up "100 Random Questions" on Google and I let someone else come up with a list for me. But if there's anything you'd like to know about me, just ask... I'm not shy...

Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 4. "a 10% profit.) Pierre loved doing" from The Landscape Diaries, Garden of Obsession by Gayatri Carole Rocherolle.

Stretch your left arm out as far as you can, What can you touch? Mustard, newspapers, People magazine, my work ID, a water bottle, an organic Fiji apple, my cell phone, my letter opener, some bags made out of sails, Whole Foods bag with laundry soap in it, a "Field Guide to Birds of North America" book, a poster that says "Add Pips".

Before you started this survey, what were you doing? I was in a staff meeting... booooring.

What is the last thing you watched on TV? An ice cream commercial. It made me hungry.

Without looking, guess what time it is 12:40pm

Now look at the clock. What is the actual time? 12:46pm (I always run about 5 minutes late, so that makes sense.)

With the exception of the computer, what can you hear? People talking in the kitchen about their weekend plans, the door opening & closing to the bathroom, a phone ringing, the air conditioning vent, CNN International yakking about some warehouse fire, some birds chirping outside.

When did you last step outside? What were you doing? This morning - walking to work. It was beautiful, but very very humid...

Did you dream last night? Yes...

Do you remember your dreams? Yes... most of the time. (I remember a recurring, serial dream of my childhood that involved Sam the Eagle from The Muppet Show turning all of my friends into stone by looking at them. It kinda freaked me out.)

When did you last laugh? This morning!

Do you remember why / at what? Yes... I have laughed several times today. But most recently, I was laughing at this

What is on the walls of the room you are in? Two calendars for work, a "check list" of adjectives ("Authentic, Essential, Distinctive, Inspiring", etc), a stencil of a Jolly Roger skull-and-crossbones pattern, a cue card that says "Next Yo-Yo", a dry-erase board with list on it ("Chocolate Chip cookies, Perennials or Annuals, Strawberries, Hanging Baskets, and Harry Winston"), and a staff phone list.

Seen anything weird lately? Of course I have! I live in New York! This morning, on the walk to work, I saw a man wearing a heavy parka jacket, scarf, earmuffs and a hat... and wearing plaid shorts with flip-flops. He was pushing a cart with a little dog in it who was yapping at every other dog walking down the street.

What do you think of this quiz? So far, it's pretty pedestrian.

What is the last film you saw? The Fugitive on cable. GREAT film!!!

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? With someone who loved me more than anything else in the world.

If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy? A plane ticket... or twelve. And I'd find someone with a ton of student loans and pay them all off anonymously.

Tell me something about you that most people don't know. I eat Dannon coffee yogurt every morning. It's an addiction. I have no inclination to stop. And I was royally pissed off when they went from 8oz containers to 6oz containers. (*pout*)

If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do? I would make sure that children never suffered from hunger, fear, sickness, or abuse.

Do you like to dance? Absolutely! (But am I good at it? Eh... )

Would you ever consider living abroad? Absolutely!

Does your name make any interesting anagrams? A tamable zinc teen heel he (is that interesting? Not really.)

Who made the last incoming call on your phone? My lawyer. That's depressing.

What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? A video clip of Jane Fonda doing her entire interview with Steven Colbert while sitting on Steven's lap (on The Colbert Report.)

Last time you swam in a pool? Last summer

Type of music you like most? I like loads of music - it depends on my mood...

Type of music you dislike most? Any music that demeans women

Are you listening to music right now? No (unless the CNN theme song counts)

What color is your bedroom carpet? There is no carpet in my bedroom

If you could change something about your home, without worry about expense or mess, what would you do? Have the only key.

What was the last thing you bought? A Dannon coffee yogurt on the way to work this morning (I told you, it's an addiction!!)

Have you ever ridden on a motorbike? Yes... I have driven one too.

Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? I've been sky diving... but for some reason, bungee jumping is too scary... (I never said I was logical.)

Do you have a garden? Only vicariously through my sister and her family... but one day, I'd love to have a little garden. I dunno why... I think I'm getting old.

Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? Yes.

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? It depends on who's with me when I wake up... (*wink*)

If you could eat lunch with one famous person, who would it be? Just one? Jesus. And I'd make sure we ate more than wine and bread...

Who sent the last text message you received? A boy.

Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Any travel agency

What time is bed time? Depends on the day... early is about 10-11pm, otherwise, 12 or 1 am.

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? No.

How many tattoos do you have? Two - but they're right on top of one another, so technically, only one.

If you don't have any, have you ever thought of getting one? Moot.

What did you do on your last birthday? No... I can't answer that. It's just sad. No comment.

Do you carry a donor card? Yep.

Who was the last person you ate dinner with? Chris, a picnic in Madison Square Park.

Is the glass half empty or half full? It depends on what's in the glass... :-)

What's the farthest-away place you've been? Turkey, I think...

When's the last time you ate a homegrown tomato? Last summer

Have you ever won a trophy? Yes... and I hope to win another on June 14th...

Are you a good cook? I can cook a few things well... but not many. I'm getting better!

Can you pump your own gas? Of course!!!!

If you could meet any one person (from history or currently alive), who would it be? And what, I don't have to have lunch with them this time? Okay... um, Abraham Lincoln.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school? Only during hazing.

Do you touch-type? Yes.

What's under your bed? Drawers (my bed is a dresser)

Do you believe in love at first sight? Not really. But I do believe in lust at first sight.

Think fast, what would you like right now? Mint chocolate chip ice cream milk shake.

Where were you on Valentine's day this year? At a steakhouse with my girlfriends.

What time do you get up? On early days, around 6am. On regular days, around 8:15. On weekends, around 9 or 10.

What was the name of your first pet? Cassie

Who is the second to last person to call you? A boy

Is there anything going on this weekend? Fondue night with the girls, and Mother's Day with my sister. Oh shoot, I gotta get a present!

How are you feeling right now? Good. My neck hurts a little... I could use a massage...

What do you think about the most? Food. (I'm hungry)

If you won big in the lottery, how long would you wait to tell people? About 3 seconds.

Who would you tell first? My sister

What is the last movie that you saw at the cinema? Uh. I honestly don't remember. I think it was something animated.

Do you sing in the shower? No.

What do you do most when you are bored? Write.

What do you do for a living? Tell other people what to do.

Do you love your job? Sometimes

What did you want to be when you grew up? A space alien (mostly because I wanted to have my own space ship)

If you could have any job, what would you want to do/be? World-traveling, altruistic, charitable multi-billionaire

Which came first the chicken or the egg? The egg... of course!

How many keys on your key ring? Two

Where would you retire to? A cruise ship going around and around the world.

What kind of car do you drive? Whatever I rent.

What are your best physical features? You'll have to ask someone else that question.

What are your best characteristics? Honesty and optimism.

If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation where would you go? Everywhere I haven't been yet.

What kind of books do you like to read? Sci-fi, fiction, history, fantasy, educational...

What is your favorite time of the day? Depends on what the days' plan is...

Where did you grow up? All over the East coast, really... and I'm still growing up.

How far away from your birthplace do you live now? A couple hundred miles

What are you reading now? This questionnaire

Are you a morning person or a night owl? Neither, really... I am more of a mid-afternoon type.

Can you touch your nose with your tongue? Yep, but not without squashing my nose first. *edit* - I just tried it, and I failed! So I have to change my answer to NO.

Can you close your eyes and raise your eyebrows? Yes... are there people who can't do that?

Do you have pets? Not yet.

Where is your best friend? Probably picking up her kids from something.

Do you collect anything? Memories and life lessons.

Are you someones best friend? I certainly hope so!!!

How many rings before you answer the phone? Depends who is calling... ha ha

What is your best childhood memory? My mom waking me up in the morning to go to school. I hated that she had to wake me up so early, but now when I look back on it, I cherish it.

What are some of the different jobs that you have had in your life? Dog washing, ice cream scooper, corporate intern, media trainer.... etc etc etc.

Any new and exciting things that you would like to share? I think I've realized that I want to have a kid... eek. (I'm sure the urge will pass soon, though. That's one perk of being a fickle female.)

What is most important in life? Finding, sharing, and living with contentment and joy.

What inspires you? People, kids, nature, art... life inspires me.

(Phew! Was that boring enough for you guys?)
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Musical Musings

2007-05-10T10:41:00.000-04:00

Several weeks ago, I saw the musical "Spring Awakening". I don't know if you've heard anything about this show, but it's quite ... interesting ... and addressed no shortage of social issues, including (but not limited to) teen pregnancy, back-room abortions, parental pressures, peer pressures, societal norms vs. social revolution, religious intolerance, suicide, homosexuality, teen angst, sex education, intellectual revolution, death, and emergence of underground 'hippy' counter-culture. (And all of this in the context of an awesome Duncan Sheik soundtrack.)

But in a flash of realization this morning, I finally figured out the moral of the musical:

Be gay.

Be gay and nothing bad will happen to you. What do you think?

In other musical news, I went to the opening night of 110 In The Shade at the Studio 54 / Roundabout Theatre Company last night on West 54th. Four-time Tony award-winner Audra McDonald played Lizzy, and just blew the stage away. Her performance was perfect, and her singing was awe-inspiring. John Cullum was also good, (though I still have a problem seeing him sing when all I can picture him in was Northern Exposure) but didn't command the stage like Ms. McDonald did.

The rest of the show was just OK, I'm sorry to say. The music was OK, the chorus was OK, but the plotline dragged a bit, and I found myself a bit bored. The second act was better (mostly because it was shorter and featured more of Ms. McDonald), but I think the problem is more that I'm personally not so keen on "love story" musicals. Call me anti-romance, but there it is.

p.s. Looks like I'm not the only one with this opinion: NY Post Review

In other random-thought news, it's a muggy day in NYC... but it's warm, so I'm tres happy.

p.p.s. This interview between Steven Colbert and Jane Fonda is one of the funniest pieces of television I think I've ever seen... .

My job is OK today

2007-05-08T20:03:00.000-04:00

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Today, I ran a taste-test of 11 types of chocolate chip cookies from the best bakeries in Manhattan. (Of course, all the bakeries sent extras, and most of them were freshly baked... and warm. Yummmm.....)

This afternoon, I was also an expert in basil... and last week, knew just about everything there was to know about mixing lightweight concrete and planting shallow-rooting plants like ferns.

Before that, it was succulent plants - types, care of, how to make cuttings of, and create a living wreath with sphagnum moss. Before that, a very thorough lesson on bonsai trees - both tropical and hardy versions. I've learned how to make chalkboard paint, become versed in the numerous applications of eco-friendly bamboo - did you know it is a form of grass, is used in China as replacement for steel beams in buildings, and can be made into clothing? I know the basic guidelines of the ancient Japanese art of Ikebana floral arranging. I've bleached shirts, exfoliated skin, moved a $40,000 book that weighed nearly 90 pounds, and learned the history of the yo-yo. I've held baby binterongs, hissing cockroaches, rescued grayhounds, owls, falcons, 200-pound snakes, and monkeys. I've played with technology prototypes, met Olympic athletes who have just won their gold medals, and tasted cuisine cooked by the finest chefs in the world.

This is just a fraction of what I do for a living... and this is why I love it. Sure, there are times when I want to quit, take all my money, move to a small town in Colorado, buy a small house, get a dog, meet a boring guy, have dumb babies and grow tomatoes.

But not today.

Today, I'm eating chocolate chip cookies and doing okay dokay.
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A promise made...

2007-05-07T10:31:00.000-04:00

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(Warning - lots of psychobabble ahead...)

At a recent wedding I attended, the preacher - when extolling on the challenges of marriage - said something that piqued my interest: "A promise broken is still a promise made."

At first, I rather liked the phrase - it spoke of the virtues of forgiveness for errors made. It gives hope that two people may feel betrayal or loss or disappointment, yet still be able to look beyond it, open their hearts to ask for forgiveness, be willing to give that person the opportunity to earn it, and thus, reconcile. The idea that reparations can be made when even the most basic tenets of commitment to the promise are lapse is certainly appealing.

But is it really feasible? When the promise is broken, but no repair is possible, what happens to the promise then? The phrase then speaks of an unhealed rift that is never able to be closed... "A promise broken is still a promise made." If this is the case, how do you 'move on' once a promise has been broken? What if a promise is reciprocal, but not reciprocated? Can you ever, then, "leave behind" an unresolved broken promise? If you read the phrase in a different perspective, it becomes more of a mental ball-and-chain than a hopeful guide to overcoming strife. I suppose in the context of a healthy marriage, the theme is optimistically applicable... but in the rather messy reality of what my personal life has become, it seems to have little validity or application other than to haunt. I've had no choice but to give up on the hope that some promises broken would ever explained (much less repaired) and find some other external sense of resolution. (And finding a comfortable sense of resolution is quite different than finding "closure," I can assure you.)

Not that I don't have hope for a better future of "promises," mind you. I would like to think that I have not become such a pessimist or cynic that it's not within my realm of imagination to use this phrase in its optimistic, uplifting and strengthening interpretation... and hope that this will become applicable in my (not-so-distant?) future. Admittedly, I'll have to overcome many of my own not-small mental hurdles in the process (I'm workin' on that)... but as for my past, in trying to work the pieces together looking backwards, it simply doesn't seem to have a place... it doesn't fit... except to say that this will be with me forever.

The idea of "a promise broken is still a promise made" is ideal between two people who want and strive to live up to the expectations of their promises... and as well, the other, offended party is open to the idea of such reparations. But where does that leave the soul when the promise broken has no opportunity to be repaired? Is it inevitable that the reciprocal promise is then also broken? And is that a judgement? And if so, is it a judgement on the promisor, or the promisee? And is there a difference? (Or, am I so emotionally entrenched in the subject matter that I cannot reconcile this idea without it becoming a judgement, even if it's just one that I've created and forced upon myself subconsciously?)

I guess the idea of leaving behind such a broken promise - one made with such gravity, broken without explanation, and deserted without attempt at repair - is not something that one should expect to "forget." The experiences of my past undoubtedly will color my perceptions of relationships, trust, and my own self-worth forever, requiring more from the other half of any relationship than I am at all comfortable asking. In that regard, it makes sense that the phrase haunts. But dang it, I don't have to like it.

My hope - and my faith - is that the next promise made will outshine the shadows made by the previous one broken...

Here's to hope...
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Gladiator catharsis

2007-05-06T20:30:00.000-04:00

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It's been a rather mellow weekend for me, with a trip to the gardens yesterday, and street fairs / apartment open houses today. While it was a gorgeous day, and I did my 50 push ups, and 150 sit ups (and some butt exercises), I just wasn't up for the long-distance walk I had planned. The last 48 hours or so has been rather stressful and I've felt slightly overwhelmed for some reason, but honestly, I couldn't have specified why.

So this afternoon, I made pan-seared organic salmon (it's supposed to be a food that helps you when you're stressed) and some experimental microwave mashed potatoes (that came out rather well, I do say) and watched bits and pieces of Gladiator. While not usually a huge Russell Crowe fan, I do think that Connie Nielsen and Joaquin Phoenix give two of the greatest performances of all time all time in this film... and at the climactic, dramatic end (helped no doubt by Hans Zimmer's incredibly gorgeous soundtrack)... I burst into tears.... and proceeded to cry for 20 minutes.

Can you say "stress" and "burn-out"? I thought you could.

But the cathartic tears were eventually alleviated by the realization that I'm overwhelmed by the prospect of buying an apartment, and so I came to the decision that I'm just going to rent for a while. I stopped crying when I realized this (the return to non-eye-leakage aided by some photos sent by a friend to my phone)... and I already feel a TON better. (Actually, two realizations came through this - I'm going to rent, and I am in desperate need of more tissues.)

I'll feel two tons better when I treat myself to brownies and an early bed time tonight... now if I just had someone to snuggle, life would be perfecto. One step at a time, I suppose... one step at a time...
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P.S. A happy congrats to E. and A. on the new addition to their family!

Weekend updates...

2007-05-05T20:58:00.000-04:00

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The past two weekends have been stunning weather! So I went out... Last weekend, it was a trip to the zoo with my boyz:

They got VERY up close and personal with a gorilla who wanted to say hi....

...except for #4... this is as close as he wanted to get...

____________________________________

This weekend, I met some faboo friends and we ventured out to the scary boroughs... to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens:

The cherry blossoms were at their peak...

... so P. and C. and I grabbed a spot of grass, threw down a blanket, slathered up with sunscreen, and totally stressed out...

Duck!

Call garden security! I found a weed!!!!

This one is for Deb...

I don't know why I only took photos of the stupid cherry blossoms... there were billions of other things in full bloom, including tulips. (But as P. noted, we were in sensory overload from the scents, sounds, colors and textures of the place, so when I go back, I'll try to take more diverse floral photos.)

Modern dating: A parallel

2007-05-02T20:56:00.000-04:00

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I was thinking the other day about the phenomenon of online dating. Since I haven't dated since my early 20's (which was - officially - about two million years ago), I haven't been privy to the evolutionary nuances of online dating. Apparently, since my early 20's, the population of online singles has 'Darwined' from the genus "weird, anti-social geeky dudes" to "everyone on the planet". And that's fine, I have no issues with that, except that it's taken me a little while to let that sift through to the recesses of my 30-something cortex. But I'm all good now.

What I do like about online dating is that the usual email correspondence to kick off the flirting is akin to the letter-writing of the days of yore. When a boy liked a girl, he would write her love letters, and hope for a return post. Similar in spirit to the email, I suppose. After all, in both scenarios, you choose your words and write your letter and send them off, hoping that you don't write anything so strange, weird, off-putting or otherwise lame that the other party will be suddenly uninterested. On the flip side, to return the sentiment with a response, you need to be thoughtful, funny, responsive, and interested... but not overreaching or overly eager. Overall, an interesting parallel to the old-time wooing of old. Sure, it's a new technology paired with new terminology and a penchant for informality and strange acronyms (LOL, TTYL, etc)... but the spirit of the gesture is the same. And I love it.

Why? Most of you know that I hate the phone. I use it as a tool - a function primarily of setting up further means of communication, preferably in person. Sure, if there's a distance between two people who like to communicate, then the phone is a necessary intermediary. But on a day-to-day basis, I generally hate calling people. (In fact, I disconnected my land line the other day, and now the only way to reach me is to call my cell. Besides the need to be suddenly more descriptive if I ever have to call 911, I have only experienced one down-side: If you misplace your cell phone in your apartment, there's nothing to call it with in order to echo-locate the sucker. A minor, yet surprisingly annoying side effect.)

Since I'm not a phone lover, and long-hand is far too difficult and not immediately gratifying, I'm officially addicted to emails. If it's not obvious from the 27 blog postings I put up in the 30-day month of April (gads, I hope I'm not boring to read), I have recently found a love of writing. And these postings are nothing compared to the number of ramblings that are too personal, strange, embarrassing, or obscene to post. And since I'm a bit of a romantic at heart (no, that part of me wasn't completely killed), the idea of the email being a means to express oneself a la the hand-written posts of old is rather... well... sweet.

So here's to emailing... and the romantic spirit of Times New Roman 10-point.

p.s. to the boys who call and I don't call back: don't take it personally... it's the means I'm adverse to, not necessarily the message.

p.p.s. It's amazing what I'll resort to when I'm desperate. Lack of mouthwash made me turn to a hydrogen peroxide mouth rinse this evening. Surprisingly tasteless, the only bizarre side effect was the bubbling that didn't stop for 30 seconds after I stopped rinsing. Bletch. And I have lost about 50% of the sensation on my tongue. Hope that goes away soon.
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May Day...

2007-05-01T20:21:00.000-04:00

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Happy Birthday mom...

Training day

2007-04-30T20:19:00.000-04:00

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As the 39 mile walk looms only 6 months away, I've started an informal training schedule that really is just a way to gauge how much it's going to hurt when my sister and I embark upon my stupid idea. A few weeks ago, I took the initiative and walked to Central Park (about 1 mile, according to Google maps) and then did the 6 mile loop, and returned home. A whopping 8 miles - less than one-third of what we'll walk on Day 1 of our two-day trek.

It was long. But beautiful - with the trees just blooming, perfect weather, new shoes, breeze blowing, and people-watching at an all-time high. Bring along some kickin' iTunes and... well... I made it through and didn't feel too badly. But it took three hours. Which means that the first day, my sister and I will be walking 10 hours. In a row. To quote my sister: "I don't do anything for 10 hours straight!"

Eh gads. What have I done?

So I started walking home from work every day. (Or, at least, every day that I worked, and it wasn't raining, which - so far - has been about 4 or 5 times.) It's a bit over 2 miles or so. The first day, I did it in my 'healthy-good-for-you' sneakers, lookin' mighty sexy in my mandatory NYC black wardrobe paired with brand-new glow-in-the-dark WHITE sneakers. My feet felt great, but I was stylishly uncool. Even my office mates took second glances at the shoes and tried to be nice, but I could read their minds... So the second time, I decided to walk home in my new NYC walking shoes.

Mistake.

NYC walking shoes are great, but they are not meant for the 'put your head down and see how many walk signals you can beat as you weave through the tourists on 5th Avenue for 40 minutes' pace. And by the time I got home, I had blisters, arch pangs, and toe cramping. Not fun. Desperately in need of a foot massage.

So this Sunday, when my sister and I took the boys to the zoo and we walked around for 4 hours, I wore my pseudo-healthy trendy black mini-sneakers with my arch supports in them... And we were exhausted. And my feet were killing me. I think it might be time for some serious reconsideration of my sanity for signing up for this walk. But let's look on the bright side - if both feet hurt at the same time, you don't limp. It's true!

But there's no going back now. So from now on, it's geeky white shoes, dammit. I don't care if I look like a loser... I'm still cool - on the inside. And I won't be limping. One day, I'm going to get serious enough about this to walk to AND from work... just as soon as I become a morning person. Which will be in ... oh ... my next incarnation on this planet.

Until then, walk on, dear readers... walk on...
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Spring, sprang, sprung...

2007-04-29T22:29:00.000-04:00

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Suddenly, it seems that everyone around me is getting knocked up. Several people at work are near hatching; my divorce lawyer was so 'due' that I was happy we made it through dinner without water breaking; and a friend just shared her happy news that she's due in about 6 months. On a related note, romance is spreading at a blistering rate through my life... with one wedding a few weeks ago, another getting hitched this weekend, another couple just sent me a "save the date" for their wedding, another pair is on the verge of proposal, and one more friend who took the ring and the sentiment, but insists on wearing it on another finger. (yes, that other finger.) I guess spring is in the air... even the peacocks at the zoo today were showin' off the plumage... Bring it on!

In other completely unrelated news, I am having flashbacks to my senior year of high school lately (it could have something to do with reminiscing with my sister through old photo albums this weekend.) I wonder where my senior prom date, Matt, is keeping himself these days? Prom night, Matt and Pat (the boys) set up an entire dinner in the middle of a field for the four of us.... a portable grill with filet mignon, mushroom sauce of some sort, vegetables, salad, and dessert... all pulled from the back of the car. Complete with candle centerpieces, wine glasses... the whole nine yards, in a clearing in a field... it was brilliant. I didn't quite realize the imagination those boys had until recently. If I ever remember to do it, I'll be sure to scan in some of those old and embarassing photos. I would ponder this a bit further - it was a major relationship turning point in my life, and no doubt this would turn into quite a psychobabbly trip down memory lane - but the work week is looming, and the writing frenzy I was in last night was enough to make me temper my keyboard adventures this evening.

I'm off to bed... a bit tired... how can four mini-boys be so energizing and exhausting at the same time? Phew!
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