I'm on crack...

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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?

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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...

(hee hee)

Nifty...ow.

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

.

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.

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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.
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Pancakes.

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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.
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39 miles later...(part deux)

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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....

.
ow.

(more details coming... once the drugs kick in.)
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Can you OD on Vitamin C?

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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.
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three things

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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

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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.
.

What gets my goat...

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

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Yep, Nope

.
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

.
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