Catching My Breath After The Last Week

That thing that I was freaking about over at work is finally done. Done okay, I think. Not great, but not horrible. Time will tell if this makes a good impression or not. I am moving on to the next thing that I am freaking about over at work. I fly out tomorrow, spend two days in back to back meetings, and then fly home and have to pack up my office because we are moving, and then I move on to third thing I am freaking about over. Hopefully, though, after that, I will be able to catch multiple breaths in a row.

One thing is clear, though. My time doing this kind of work is limited. I've never loved it, but I loved being good at it, being one of the best kids in the class, and knowing that if I wanted it, tasted it, I'd be the one moving up in the world. That's not really sustainable anymore. I'm not quite sure how to extricate myself, but I do know I want to. This second, anyway. Most of the time I have these thoughts, I follow the thread and end up thinking that I'm so full of shit, that I'll be working in Corp Comm for the rest of my life, always trying to be the smartest kid in the class. Always worried that someone is going to figure me out.

This stuff is always rattling around in my brain, but there's been one GOOD development that's made it a lot louder lately. My writing class. It is fantastic! I'm having so much fun and loving the feedback that I'm getting from people, and again with the smartest kid in the class syndrome, I am loving that people think I'm good at this. For my second class, two women showed up and said that they couldn't wait to hear what I wrote. After ONE assignment. I'll be missing class for work travel this week, and that kind of blows. I love being disciplined about writing. It's not that I didn't write before (I blah, blah on this thing, after all, and I journal), but I wasn't writing stories.

The class is called Stories from Life, and duh, it's about using the stories from your own life as the basis for bigger and better things. For the first class, we had to bring an article of clothing that meant something to us and write about it in class. I brought the first pair of combat boots I ever bought. For the second class, we had to draw a four-panel cartoon and use it to tell a story, and then we later wrote a short story about it in class. I wrote about getting busted reading magazines and crappy books behind the Missle and Bible in Mass, when everyone thought I was the quietest, well-behaved kid in Church. The next assignment is to write about something related to weather, and I'm having trouble with it. I can't seem to think of anything, except for driving in the snow the Christmas day my Pop-Pop died. I'm so used to writing funny, ironic stuff that that is well out of my comfort zone. We'll see.

Another thought that's become very clear -- if feeding my family were dependent on my writing, I'd probably do more of it. Hmmmm....

Other good things:

* I ran my second 5K this weekend and smoked my previous time. I finished in 35:16, more than 3 minutes less than my last one. To be fair, I think the course was slightly shorter, but it had a horrendously big hill. I think that's it in terms of Massachusetts races, but I'm going to try and run one in NJ over Thanksgiving weekend.

* There is a race on November 4, but I'm skipping it because YG and I are now teaching Sunday School of sorts at our church. If you know me and you just read that, you've probably just either fainted or fallen down laughing. But, I'm serious. I'm not a fundie -- I just really like the church and we wanted to give something back other than money [because, really, we are still corporate money grubbers at heart. Kill the poor! Rarh! ;-)]. We had the first class today, and it was interesting. There were only three kids, but one antsy one, and I managed to suppress my urge to shout "shut the hell up and stop fidgeting and pay some frickin' attention," but I managed a more "godly" "shhhh..." We shall see.

* We had a great "I love living in the city" weekend. Yesterday, we caught some of the Honk Festival in Davis Square, and the MG and I danced around a bit before heading down to Harvard for a ton of Japanese food and a fantastic performer in the Square. Today, we went to Octoberfest and watched the Honkers parade, and it was awesome.

* Playoff baseball is here. I don't have much hope for the Yankees, but am quite impressed by the Rockies and that closer for the Diamondbacks. I am hoping that the Angels can pull off one game so I can rib YG a little bit, and that the Yankees don't blow it too bad. Right now, I'm resolving to not be too cranky. There's always next season.

Face the Fear (Or Something)

I have a long post in me somewhere about the outcome of all my bloodwork and doctor's appointments. The abridged version is that, basically, according to the nutrionist, I am "obviously overweight." And that, obviously, sent me into a tailspin. My inner monolouge is SO FUCKING LOUD right now, and I'm not able yet to process all that shit and get it down on paper. She said lots of nice things too that I'm now able to realize, where last week was a lot of "blah, blah,blah, you're fat, blah, blah, eat better because you are fat, blah, blah, FAT, FAT, FAT."

So yeah. Apparently this is not uncommon, though.

This project, Illustrated BMI Categories, made me feel a lot better. You should check it out. Like, right now.

Also making me feel better about being "obviously overweight" is the fact that I ran 3 miles and rode 15 miles yesterday and am running my next 5K next week.

And, oh yeah, my creative writing class started and it is awesome and fantastic, and I am so so so glad I did this.

I have been MIA and will continue to be MIA for a while because work is insane and my boss is out for a bit taking care of his newborn kid. But I will be back. And I will be fat and I will be awesome. :-)

38:52!

I finished it.

I ran the whole way and didn't stop once. I wanted to finish in the top 85% (heh), and ended up finishing in the top 87%. For my age range (females 30-39), I finished in the top 84%.

I raised money for a good cause and am doing another one in two weeks. And hey, free ice cream. :-)

Post race, with ice cream. More pics available here.

Notes on Wedding Planning

Not in the mood to be writing tonight, and I'm sure there have been multiple people pissing me off who deserve a good lashing, but I'll keep this to a few wedding-related rants:

* No matter how many times you say that you want something small and that you've done this before, catering folks just can't seem to refrain from talking about my "special day."

* I am still a 12 year old boy. Because everytime anyone mentions anything "intimate," I laugh in my head and imagine us having a big, crazy orgy of a wedding.

* This part (the appointments, the craziness, the carefully-crafted marketing brochures using aforementioned words -- intimate, special day, "moment" in soft silver script) sort of sucks. We know what we want. I hate having to suffer through a sales pitch.

* I bought two dresses. This part makes me wildly happy.

* See above about small. Do not act suprised or put off when I tell you that "no, there's no wedding party" because I JUST TOLD YOU that it's a small affair and that the three people who are most important (YG, MG, me) will be there and nobody ever died from lacking bridesmaids.

* Good food is expensive, yo.

Other things:
* I refuse to blog incessantly about my wedding.

* Race is Sunday. I put in 3.5 miles today. Have 4 planned for Thursday and Friday and then we'll see how I do.

* WORK! Arghhh.....

* Classes start next week. This is going to be cool.

* YG's 40th birthday trip is booked. THAT is going to rock.

* Still no word on my bloodwork (read: still no idea what the fuck is wrong with me) but nutrionist appointment on Monday.

Bleh.

In Lieu of a Real Post, I Present Engagement and Food Porn

My bling:




My rack and I just got engaged:



I am Magnolia's bitch:



So is he:



The one and only Joe's Shanghai soup dumplings:



Keeping it real on the Isle of Manhattan:





More foodie porn and bling shots available over on Flickr.

Where Am I?

Working. Working. Working. And trying to keep some of the engagement high going. Although I really just want to crawl under a table and huddle up and hibernate until mid-November (otherwise known as the time when work things MAY get back to normal).

Not a lot of time to talk/type? , but lots going on:

* Health woes continue. Blood work appointment on Friday included a blood pressure reading of 80/50 (hella low), puke, and me passing out. Good times.

* YG and I started looking at dates and places to get married. Right now, we're looking at either April 19 or April 26 (both 2008). We want to have something nice, but we don't want to be irresponsible. Irresponsible would be $10K for a wedding for under 60 people. Where is that "shocked" emoticon when you need it?

* My class starts in a few weeks. Yoga starts up too.

* Baseball = more and more interesting every day.

* Reading two different Geneen Roth books. Alternating between "wow! I so can relate" and "puke! This is so cheesy!."

* More reading -- There are some many great posts recently over at Shapely Prose that I don't know which ones to link to. This one really spoke to me, and I bookmarked it to comment later and then never got around to it -- consider my link my "rock on." There's a lot of fantastic debate on that site about fat activism and dieting and health at any size. I'm not sure where I stand as I alternate between actively trying to accept myself and actively trying to lose weight, but it's GREAT reading.

* I bought too many shoes last month, including the heinous Danskos I really wanted. It's a slippery slope from here to hippie skirts and grey braids. It's either a cry for help or I'm comfortable.

* I expanded my frequenting of JP Licks' locations in the area. The one in Brookline has nice booth seating, and I devoured a relatively awesome sundae with two friends last week.

* 2 weeks until my first 5K. I have all the training down -- now I just have to do it. Am debating whether or not attempting a 10K in November would be validating or ridiculous.

* I cannot keep a thought straight in my head.

What are YOU up to?

No Witty Title For This One

I am wracking my brain for something witty and amusing to say here, but I am not feeling either. Just feeling happy BECAUSE.....

I am getting married!

I was tempted to write "I am getting married again," but I stopped myself. Because I am getting married to YG and that is pretty fucking great as is. He asked and I think it's a fine idea so I said yes.

The backstory:
YG planned another suprise birthday weekend trip for me. He did this last year (we went to San Francisco) and I loved it so much because I've never had a surprise birthday of any sort. A few weeks ago, he asked if I had a "rain jacket" and "hiking boots" or at least "comfortable shoes." Um, hello? NO. I was secretly kind of meh about the whole thing because I assumed we were doing some kind of camping, and I think I finished off all the camping I need to do in this lifetime at Girl Scout Camp twenty years ago. Thursday night, YG gave me a clue by telling me that we were going "south" and that I'd be okay without the jacket, and that I would need one fancy outfit.

We took off on Friday morning and drove south. I was thinking Newport, Mystic? As we headed down 95 into New York, I thought we might be going to my family's house on Long Island, but it wasn't until we were headed toward the Triboro Bridge that I realized we were heading to Manhattan.

Another backstory: YEARS ago, YG and I had the perfect date that was not a date. We were both still married and at the time, just moderately friendly from work -- we didn't really know each other. He and some other work friends were staying at the W in Union Square for a trade show in the area, and a few others were supposed to meet up with everyone for drinks and dinner and a night of hanging out. As fate would have it (????do I believe in fate? I don't know), it ended up being just YG and I. We had a drink at the W, dinner at Sushi Samba, some more drinks at Flute, and then coffee and dessert at Coffee Shop in the hopes that I would sober up for my drive back to NJ. Very standard, somewhat touristy Union Square stuff, but a really fun night, and that's when we really started to know each other and became friends.

On Friday, YG checked us into the W and we walked across town and got some Magnolia cupcakes for a pre-birthday birthday present. Whenever I'm back in NJ, I never really get a chance to go into the city for anything other than quick drinks or food because I always have "family obligations." So it was nice to be out and out doing nothing besides enjoying the city and the weather.

We went back to the hotel and had some drinks and changed for dinner, went to Sushi Samba and then headed over to Flute. We chit chatted and worked on getting a nice champagne buzz, and then he asked if I wanted my birthday card. I opened it and it was really sweet and lovely, with lots of nice stuff about me, and then it ended with "Love, YG. P.S. Will you marry me?" And then he gave me the ring.

So, of course, I said yes. :-)

We walked over to Coffee Shop and talked some more and people watched and car watched -- there were two Lamborghinis randomly parked on the street so that made for a nice car-gasm for YG. [NOTE: we're at Diesel working on our laptops, and I asked how you spell "Lamborghini" and he said, "Do you want the model? It's Gallardo."] Minus the "yes" part, I'm guessing that was the high point of his evening.

On Saturday, we put on our gym clothes and walked around the neighorhood and ate MORE cupcakes. We ran into a woman that we had seen in the bar the night before, and she referred to us as the "cute couple from the bar" so we told her we got engaged. We had soup dumplings at Joe's Shanghai, did a Circle Line cruise around Manhattan (one of those tourist things I have ALWAYS wanted to do), dinner at Rosa Mexicano, more walking around the Village. Then for reasons unknown to both of us, we watched the end of Titanic on TNT?

On Sunday, we consumed even MORE cupcakes for breakfast, and then went shoe shopping and then met my family for brunch at The Water Club. I usually spend Labor Day weekends at my folks' house out in Long Island, and this was the first birthday in years that I wasn't going to be there. I was kind of pissed that nobody else thought that was much of a big deal, and they said they'd see me "sometime in October." I was happy to see them. They're all really happy for me, and there was much happy crying and planning and consumption of cheese. I think I ate Manhattan this weekend.

So there you have it. Some happy news for a change. I am happy. YG is happy. The MG was in on the whole thing, and said, "I'm so happy you said yes" and we're all happy, happy.

The More You Know

What network did the "the more you know" spots? Was it ABC? Or NBC? Google always knows. It was NBC. There are so many smart websites out there that sometimes I feel like I have a running more-you-know commentary in my head. [Note: I am not always reading "smart" websites. I spent precious work minutes today dissecting R Kelly and Trapped in the Closet with a coworker and watching Part I on Youtube.]

Big Fat Deal has an interesting post about Georgia artist Mark Wentzel's big fat Eames chair. I should say here that my understanding of art is pretty crap. I know what I like and what I don't like and I like to page through The History of Art just like anyone else, but I'm not great at critique. Also, I have, on occassion, gotten the famed Eames chair mixed up with the Aeron chair, so I am obviously no expert on design. I saw the picture and my thought was "large chair" and maybe "heh" and it stopped at that.

Then I scrolled through the comments and started to think about what people were saying and attempted to think about what Wentzel was trying to say. For about 5 seconds. And then I Googled. Mainly to see if anyone else had reviewed the piece. I didn't find much.

My two cents. I wasn't outraged. I like the idea of a piece about overconsumption, and I equate overconsumption with gobbling up mass quantities of crap and "useless" stuff you don't need. Like fancy schmancy chairs? I dunno. I probably wouldn't have equated the overstuffed chair with fat, but it was the artist himself who said, "It gives the opportunity to a particular viewer to grab their stomach and say, 'Wow. That’s me.'" He steered the conversation toward the overconsumption of food/fat bellies equal overconsumption, blah blah blah.

I'm stealing this directly from the comments section, courtesy of someone named MizShrew, because it sums up nicely what I was thinking.

"First of all, he assumes that the “particular viewer” does not already know they are fat, such that seeing this chair would produce a “wow” moment? Please. Then, of course the viewer who is fat is fat only because of over-consumption, “obviously.” And, of course, there’s the title, “useless” which really limits any greater discussion of the work, doesn’t it? He boils it down for us – chair is fat, chair is useless. This approach shuts down what could otherwise be an compelling look at form and function in our society. But no, instead he goes for an elaborate fat joke and calls it art."

Are we overthinking? Or is this what good art is meant to do? Provoke interesting discussion? I admit to reading a bunch of the comments and being perplexed, but I was overall happy to engage some critical thinking skills today.


Things I am NOT commenting on today:
* The Yankees game last night.
* The fact that the Yankees and Red Sox are playing right now. We've declared a cease fire in the house for now.
* The number that the shitty committee in my head is doing on me regarding my weight right now.
* The fact that I like the running and the biking, but chafing? WTF? This qualifies as TMI AND commenting, but I apologize to my coworkers for not wearing underwear to work today.
* The fact that my birthday is a week away and I haven't really thought about it.
* The fact that work is going to be insane and crazy starting in September so I have to pretend that September is not starting very, very soon.
* That I really think these are really cute and I really, really want them, and I'm afraid that means that any sense of style I ever had is just gone, gone, gone.
* That I only have a day and a half left before vacation, and it's keeeeeeling me.

And Oh Yeah, Read This

Courtesy of Good With Cheese regarding fat as a feminist issue:

"To most observers, I’m not fat. I’m just sort of in-between. I don’t get discriminated against, I don’t get called names, and I am well aware of how kindly society treats me compared to fatter women. But I’m also well aware of how much better society treated me when I wore a size 4. And it pisses me off, because my value is not dependent on my weight. "

Amen. Tell that to the JM in the previous post.

Too Tired

To say anything interesting. Did a bunch of running this weekend even though it was hot as balls out and am now suffering from "real" runner problems like chafing and shin splints and other sorts of ick. I bought a "fuel belt" today that I'm hoping will help keep me hydrated and help with the nauseau and light-headedness I feel when I run when it's very hot out.

I was hoping to ride my bike this weekend. I didn't.

Despite all the exercise and eating "normally," the numbers on the scale keep going up...a lot. Despite having quit WW and therefore not caring about being on a diet, I care. A lot.

I made an appointment with a nutrionist.

Things I Wished I Had Remembered To Blog About

I am back from my business trip and settling into a Friday night of catching up. YG is out grocery shopping (his week) and MG is in bed reading Beverly Cleary with a flashlight. I would have totally let her read with the light on, but she's very invested in the flashlight idea so go have it. She already wears glasses so I have no worries about stunting her development or anything. I'm all over the place so try and follow along.

1. I wish I could have live blogged my trip back from Orlando because it was weird upon weird upon weird, and I'm sure I've forgotten some of the details. It all started off with my misguided and somewhat insane thought of "I should try and save the company money." WTF? Dumb. I figured that the meals at a Disney resort were expensive so I should try and save money on the trip back. I think this kind of thinking is good when you are the CEO. When you are clawing your way up to middle management? Not so much.

My first mistake was taking a bus to the airport. I told my traveling coworker companion about this, and he immediately thought this was a dumb idea. I was not to be deterred. I had already spent (wait for it) $19 on my ticket and hoped to make the most of it. Only two people got on the bus at my stop so I felt most triumphant. At the next stop, a travel group of about 30 middle-aged women in a wide variety of poly blend "slacks" and "blouses" boarded. They were happy and Southern, and they wanted to talk. And they wanted to talk to me.

My second mistake was choosing a discount airline. Note to friends and family: NEVER choose a discount airline when you are traveling back from Orlando on a business trip. You will be one of few business travelers on the flight. You will spend much time at the check in line as various people attempt to justify that their small moving van is actually a carry-on bag. You may get into an argument with a woman about the size of her carry on bag, or actually, in a rare moment of clarity, you may decline to argue with the woman who wants to know what's in your carry on bag and why it's "approved" for, you know, carrying on. You will hold your tongue, smile, tell her it's regulation size and that it's holding ALL of your items from the past three days. You will not add "unlike your bag which is holding your much needed 'hot rollers' and probably some additional poly blend and white sweat socks from the Faded Glory collection." It will take you a while to get through security because non-business travelers apparently live under rocks these days and don't know all the rules and regulations. And then you'll end up in the last row, seated next to a woman with a small dog under her seat. She may take the dog out on the flight. The dog MAY lick your laptop screen as you attempt to read analyst reports. You may find talking to the lady with the dog more interesting than reading the reports and just give in.

Third was taking the subway home. Enough said. In my own defense, it was rush hour and I didn't feel like sitting in a cab in traffic. Plus, I started a great new book on the plane. I finished Marianne Pearl's book on the trip and was having a minor panic attack at the thought of being on an airplane and having nothing new to read besides work crap and Skymall. Terrified of buying towel warming racks or some Skymall shit like that on the plane, I picked up Evening at the airport. It's lovely. I read over 100 pages on the trip and can't seem to put it down.

2. The Detroit/Yankees game. That was awesome. We had dinner in Manhattan afterwards and given my family's need to make an adventure out of things that shouldn't really be an adventure, we drove all over the place: the Bronx, Bronx to Penn Station, Penn Station to Upper East Side, Upper East Side to the Park, back to UES, back to Park, FDR, GWB and finally a short stop over in the Whip. I miss Manhattan. We need to get back there soon.
And YG didn't die being at Yankee Stadium. Visual proof:



More from the game here.

Note my fancy new green glasses. Wrong prescription that will cost an arm and a leg to change, but I love them.

3. My parents came up the weekend earlier and we took them all around town. The Harbor Islands were gorgeous and the North End was awesome as usual. The night before they got here, I had a lovely Boston evening, walking around town and buying fancy new shoes on Newbury Street and watching a free concert with Fountains of Wayne.
Pictures here.

4. There was other stuff, but there is pie on the table and baseball on t.v. You understand.

The Happiest Place on Earth

I am on a business trip in Orlando, staying at a resort on the Disney properties. It's surreal, with a weird combination of people in suits and lots of families and more white sneakers and jean shorts that I ever imagined existed. The happiest place on Earth feels slightly depressing when you are by yourself and your dinner plans fall through. I did my work today and then went to the pool and read, and then went to dinner by myself and read. And then I watched the fireworks because I love fireworks and they never cease to make me happy.

If I was a good worker, I would have brought my analyst reports to dinner and read them, but I needed a break, and I can't put down my book.

I'm reading A Mighty Heart by Marianne Pearl, and while I knew how it was going to end -- it's a true story and we all were there -- I still sobbed out loud when she writes about finding out that Danny Pearl was dead. I couldn't help myself. I cried a lot with this one. Highly recommended.

It made me miss YG and the MG more than I already miss them. It's a weird place to be in when you miss your family. As much as I despise Disney and want to rant about their corporate culture and their insistence on marketing crap to kids (Disney Princesses? WTF?), I know that the MG would totally dig this. When I left for the airport, she told me to look for Mickey and to tell him that "MG says hello and that I will come to visit soon." Fuck, man. Who wouldn't be into that?

The plane ride down here was bumpy so I read a lot and then wrote for over an hour. Here's what I had to say about writing:

I used to write a lot more. In college, I filled a journal the same size as this in my semester in London alone. I always carry this journal with me, but I don't have the urge to document everything anymore. Maybe because it's the same old shit I'm dealing with all the time. But I haven't been documenting all the everyday coolness of living in Cambridge and the people watching in Davis Square.

I'm taking a creative writing class in the fall and I'm excited and nervous at the same time. What if I suck? The last time I took a writing class was Writing Studio in London, well over 10 years ago, and I had Jane and at least some of the class convinced that I was a good writer, and even better, a funny writer. Was that talent? Or just that rare occurence of being suitably charming and funny at the right place and dtime? And already I'm getting ahead of myself because I took the class to get into the better practice of writing and not to impress anyone. I just want to do it. Be forced to put pen to paper and come up with something with a beginning, middle and an end. That isn't a journal entry on a plane or a blog entry.

The blog thing is just weird. I read tons of them and am practically obsessed with some. And I'll see these things on the street or I'll have an interesting conversation with someone or see something funny, and I think, "hey, I should blog about this." Yes. And then I die from the weight of my self-importance.

I guess I'm looking forward to being held accountable for my writing. In Writing Down the Bones, one of my favorities, she talks a lot about just putting it out there and writing to write-- that eventually it will find some shape eand flow, or that maybe there will be a kernal of something that you can use later on. And yes, maybe. I'm thinking of all those old journals, diligently kept from age 10 to now. Over 20 years. There has to be something in ther somewhere.

It's very weird to type from a journal. The awareness of my bad grammar and spelling is great, as is my urge to edit. RESIST!

And Tomorrow, We Go To The Bronx

Go Yankees! Half a game back in the Wild Card!

Why I Don't Go To The Doctor

I realize that not going to the doctor is kind of dumb. And I am not anti-doctor -- I have regular dentist appointments and ob/gyn appointments and yearly eye check ups, along with being rather obsessive compulsive about the dermatologist. I'm good about the regular stuff. But with irregular things, I seem to have adopted my family's attitude that whatever the problem is will either go away by itself or you will die first -- no need to bother the doctor.

So when I went to the eye doctor this year about the chronic eye infections I keep getting AND the headaches I was having, I was suprised when the doctor said, "for how long?" and I was even more suprised when he nearly dropped down dead when I answered "oh, on and off for about 15-16 years now." I KNOW. Stop judging.

The headache was an easy fix. I had the wrong presciption. Now I have new glasses and they are cool and green and I would show you if I wasn't too lazy to upload the pictures to Flickr. For the infection, we first tried an antibiotic and then we tried another antibiotic and then we tried a steroid and then all that shit together made my eye swell and it interfered with my sight. And then I couldn't see for shit.

And then the kicker? I have dry eyes. REALLY dry eyes, and that is making this whole mess even worse so my doctor suggested that I try this stuff. It was awesome to an extent -- my eyes feel great. I can see. No crusty skeeve eye in the morning. No YG smacking me in the back, telling me to stop clawing my eyes out. Good times, no?

No. I am so fucking tired and lethargic, and I could not figure out why. I thought it was all the running, but I'm getting TONS of sleep along with running so that didn't make sense.

If you read the fine print on the eye vitamins, you'll see that I'm getting 614% of my recommended Vitamin E intake. Add on my "one a day" vitamin and my "hope your ovaries don't dry up, you divorced thirtysomething hag" vitamin which both also have tons of vitamin E and you get a bit of a Vitamin E overload. Oh, and random projectile vomiting when you are certainly not pregnant or don't have the flu.

Side effects of too much Vitamin E? "Symptoms of a vitamin E overdose may include fatigue, weakness, nausea, headache, blurred vision, flatulence, and diarrhea."

Awesome.

I apologize if I haven't called you or written to you or returned something I owed you. Me and my skeeve eye will be all over that shit soon.

Funny Things Your Partner May Say To You

-----Original Message-----
From: YG
Sent: Tuesday, August 07, 2007 1:27 PM
To: JM
Subject: For future reference

When you are going for a brisk walk at lunch and forgot to bring in a
change of underwear, your choices are:

1) Go commando on the walk so you have a relatively still fresh pair to
slip into after your shower, or

2) Use underwear for support during the walk (especially if you are the
owner of a large pair of swinging testicles) and go commando for the
rest of the afternoon.

When faced with this choice, ALWAYS choose option 2. Always.

Owwww :-(

I snorted out loud over that one. It's only fair, as he's been listening to me bitch about my chub rub for weeks now. When you Google "running" and "chub rub" you get a number of interesting hits, and by "interesting" I mean "weird" and "porny." I finally settled on "running" and "inner thigh chafe" and found that I'm pretty much doing what I can in terms of shorts and that I should try BodyGlide or Vaseline. Lubing up for an activity of one. Nice. I also learned more than I ever need to know about how to handle your swinging testicles when running. Serious design flaw.

For those following along, this is my 100th post -- it's fitting that it's about balls and lube. :-)

Do I Hear A "Woot!"?

I did it! I finally got my 3.2 miles or my 5K and to reward myself, I registered for this. If you're reading this, that means we're probably friends or related, so I'll be hitting you up for a donation soon. September 23 -- that gives me a little over a month to get my times down. Right now, I'm running at about the same pace as 14-year-old girls and 60-year-old men.

Other things I am happy about or have giggled about in the past few days:

* Ann Taylor "Julie fit" pants. "Julie -- the new curvy fit. Contoured through the hip and thigh." Margo, that slut, sold me out, but Julie -- Julie, she's a doll, with her freedom from camel toe and ass support and whatnot.

* Knocked Up. Bourne Ultimatum was sold out, so I got to see MY movie choice. "Don't let the door hit you in the vagina on the way out." Hee. That shit was hilarious.

* The Restaurant Week menu at Harvest. Corn soup...mmm. I chose the beef, and it came out as fancy beef should (not totally dead), and I was slightly embarassed to ask them to ruin it for me by charring it up. But they did, and it was awesome. Tonight, we went to Red Bones. It's a plethora of meat.

* 0.5 games back in the Wild Card. Boston fans starting to freak a bit.

* I was driving to an eye doctor appointment in Burlington over the weekend, and I saw a bunch of signs in the road for "Pride Day: Burlington" and thought it was really cool that this sleepy, little suburb would have it's very own gay pride event. And then I drove by -- minivans, cat sweatshirts, funnel cake and hot dogs, thousands of kids -- and quickly realized that it was just a typical civic pride gathering, exactly like those from when I was a kid, back when I was rockin' my Z.Cavaricci's at Malpardis Park. Still, it would have been awesome if a bus full of drag queens pulled up and danced around on the trampolines with lots of glitter and good cheer. That would have totally made my day.

* Lazy weekends in Cambridge. YG and I hung local and made dinners on the grill and bar hopped and read the Sunday paper and drank coffee. In essence, what I would do if I was unemployed.

Quickie

1. Three miles! I completed two three mile runs this week. I'm sore, but not dead. And I hope to head out tomorrow.

2. Woot! We found a babysitter. YG and I are doing a test run tonight to see how this works out. We have a few Friday night out evenings planned in Sept. (Rilo Kiley!) and we wanted to find someone local to help us out on the nights we have the MG but have scheduling conflicts. Fingers crossed. We're going to the movies. I want to see Knocked Up, but he wants some testosterone-filled man shit, so we're seeing The Bourne Ultimatum. He's lucky it's getting fantastic reviews.

3. I am the biggest douchebag ever. I was all cranky driving home and marginally cranky about the movie choice, and I walked into the bedroom and there was a vase full of sunflowers that YG bought because he knows I like them. He also brings me coffee in bed every morning. Yeah, I suck.

4. I quit WW this week for reals. Fuck that noise.

5. My family is visiting next weekend and I'm excited. It's also Restaurant Week. Yummm.....

6. Lily Allen. That album? Is too much fun.

7. Reading: The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler.

8: Listening to: Lily Allen (see above) and really, really bad workout music for when I run. I knew that Poison's Greatest Hits would come in handy someday.

9: Watching: Rescue Me (yay!), The Bronx is Burning (meh), baseball. As much as I love Baseball Tonight, I'll be happy when some of my crap shows come back. And that new VH1 show "I Hate My 30s" is a very unfunny attempt at being another version of the very funny and soon coming back "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia."

10. I don't have a ten, but it seemed weird to just have 9.

The Worst Part of the Weekend

This is the worst part -- when all the work is done and you've just settled into knowing that you have to go back to work tomorrow and that the weekend is over. This blows. I am still not independently wealthy.

I AM very sore. I pulled a muscle in my lower leg when I went out running last Thursday night and decided to rest a bit. It's been hot as balls here, or what the media calls "oppressively humid." The Thursday run was miserable and I nearly cried walking back. Today, I decided to wait until it was a tad less opressive and went out around 5. I've mapped out a few 3 mile routes in the area, using my new best friend, Google Maps. Unfortunately, my new best friend does not tell you when your selected 3-mile-run-in-humid-90-degree heat is almost all uphill because she is a bitch like that. I made it about a half mile, then had to walk, ran another 10 minutes and had to stop, and then had to stop again. I did get a solid mile in toward the end, but I was panting and my fucking chub rub was so bad, I wanted to scream. I HATE wearing shorts. Absolutely hate it, but it's frickin hot. I dragged my sweaty, red raw ass into the house and YG commented that he had never seen me looking so wet. And...heh. I'm twelve.

And then I cooked dinner for the three of us. For reals. I used THREE burners.
Very exciting.

Other than that, a nice low key weekend in Cambridge. I got my car cut yesterday morning and then we went to the Museum of Science. The cab we were in got in a minor fender bender on the way home, but nothing terribly interesting. We had some pizza at Mike's, people-watched in Davis, and then took the MG to see The Simpsons movie which was frickin' hilarious. Today: church, brunch, bill paying, a very glamorous cleaning of the litter box and disinfecting of the recycling bins, and the run. Ho hum.

I'm making an effort to not talk about work right now because it will only make me sad. And everything else is good and normal and content. I need some angst. I need some angst so I can pen my opus. Right now, my opus is reading a bit "Slouching Toward The Dry Cleaner in My Suburu Outback." Whatevs.

I Could Use Some Wine Right About Now

And a lot of it.




More vacation pictures here, plus some of Plymouth with the rock (yep, that one). It's more like a boulder, not the huge beckoning cliffs I imagined.

When Others Say It Better or WW-related Stuff

I briefly wrote before about how I'm thinking of quiting Weight Watchers and "watching what I eat"(read: diets) in general because I end up feeling like shit about myself. I've even read Intuitive Eating and all the Geneen Roth books, and I've talked to people who said that (amazingly) when you stop obsessing about the food, you feel better. But then I get really, really scared and go back to that thing that I know -- the points, the meetings, the sameness -- because it's worked for me before and I am deathly afraid of being out of control with my eating. Like if I give up the points, I will do nothing but loll about and stuff myself with cookie dough all day. I am a creature of habit.

Lately, though, I'm not feeling the WW so much. I read this post about a month ago and had this strange feeling that someone had gotten into my head and stolen my thoughts while I was throwing up a little in my mouth at the Sweat, Tears and The Sea meeting. I'm haven't been too happy with our WW leader for a while, but I've noticed a distinct change in this past 12-week session (I'm an at-work member). She covers the topic at hand and ONLY the topic at hand, and the "featured product of the week" makes me want to scream.

Last week was the meeting on exercise. I should be feeling really good about exercise. I've always been good at the gym and walking and working out because I ENJOY it. It's not a chore -- I like this stuff. And I've been feeling like a rock star lately with all the running. I am RUNNING, people. For MILES -- plural! I should feel awesome. And most of the time I do. Except for when I get on that scale at the WW meeting. Then I feel like a schmuck because either the number doesn't move or it goes up, and I come up with a list of things I "should" have done. I should have eaten better. I should have ran more. I should be biking too. I should drink more water. And seriously, what the fuck? Regardless of the scale, I should still feel fantastic about achieving something. But I don't for that one hour on Wednesday. I feel fat and I feel like a loser.

This has been going on for a few weeks now, but last week's exercise meeting pushed me closer to a decision about leaving. Even though the vast majority of our group runs or regularly goes to the gym, WW Leader insisted on doing a full frickin' meeting about desk stretches and other random shit designed to put "at least 10 minutes of moving around into your day." And we weren't allowed to call it exercise because then, supposedly, we wouldn't do it. I get that, and I get that there is a large majority of people who have trouble getting any physical activity into their day.s It's fantastic that WW has designed a meeting to help them get over that. What I do have a problem with is when the Leader refuses to change the meeting when it doesn't appeal to anyone in the room -- because that would mean not following the meeting guidelines. Grrr....

And the kicker? WW Leader: "We just want to lose weight. Nobody here wants to be an athlete." Huh? Speak for yourself, Crazy. Maybe I DO want to be an athlete. Maybe I want that more than to lose weight. Maybe I want to lose weight by being more athletic. Maybe I use the points system to help me figure out what is the best food to use their dumb terminology, "fuel my body." Like, seriously?

And now here's the point where I tell you that is all bullshit. I am enjoying my new-found athleticism, but I would really, really like to be thinner. Do I hate myself? Am I delusional? I don't think so, but you never know. I talk a good game about wanting to be healthy, but most of my quest-for-health-activities have always stemmed from a deep desire to be thinner and to escape from my body. I've ALWAYS been this way, and I have always had body issues -- and I've never been that heavy or that thin. I just am.

So, where was I going with this? I've been reading all the recent blogosphere posts about weight loss vs. fat acceptance with interest, because I'm not sure how I feel or what I feel, but a hell of a lot of people are much more literate than me.

All of these found via Elastic Waist [yes, I've plugged it before, but seriously, read it]:

Fat Loss vs. Fat Acceptance, redux

Do I really hate myself?

Poundy, of course. I have loved this blog for years.

And not related to the debate, but awesome anyway -- this thing on J.K. Rowling's site. I should note that I've never read a Harry Potter book, nor do I really care that much about Harry or Rowling for that matter. I just like this.

And oh so unrelated to anything: right after I gave up all hope, the Yankees are on a tear again. 5.5 games back in the Wild Card. I'm giving a respectable, restrained "woot!" at this point.

Fat Lard in an Ugly Shirt

File under: this is what an "adult relationship" looks like
Also under: thank god for giving me someone that can deal with the crazy in me head

JM: Do you ever have days where you wake up and look at yourself and think "I am so frickin' busted looking and old?"
YG: Um, not really.
JM: I do. I look gross.
YG: Is that the shirt from California?

[Editor's note: The shirt from California can also be described as the only thing in the JM warddrobe that YG said he didn't like. And he did not technically say he didn't like it. He technically said that it didn't play up JM's many good assets. His words, not hers. JM was very riot-grrll and super-feminista about it and said that she could keep the shirt even if YG didn't think it looked good on her because she doesn't need a man to tell her what does and doesn't look good. And then she threw it out a few weeks later, because he maybe might have been a teeny bit right.]

JM (with look, you know, that one): Noooo, it's not the shirt from California. It's a different one that may be cut similarly.
YG: Oh.
JM: (looking, looking, looking)
YG: (examining shoe, folding underwear)
JM: So you HATE this shirt?
YG: I don't hate the shirt. I asked if it was the shirt from California.
JM: The shirt you hated and said I looked fat in.
YG: I didn't SAY that. You make these things up because you are so very, very, very crazy.
JM: I'm not crazy. I am just, apparently, a fat lard in an ugly shirt.

And then we laughed hysterically for a while, because, really, that's funny. Fat lard in an ugly shirt. Hee.

In other news, I just finished reading How Sassy Changed My Life: A Love Letter to The Greatest Teen Magazine of All Time and OH MAH GOD, the nostalgia. Sassy was the first magazine I ever subscribed to, and the only one besides New York Magazine. I loved it, loved the writers, loved the music and it certainly made the idea of giving up my dream of being a writer to go major in the more parentally-acceptable journalism more palatable. I think, in high school, that I had a brief moment of thinking that I was going to grow up and be Christina Kelly and that I would FINALLY be cool.

And alas, it's more than a decade later and I am still me, not being all that cool and kind of a nerd but kind of okay with being kind of a nerd. And while you grow up and accept all the life choices that you make and sort of understand why you make them, there's this little part of me that thinks if I just find that right job or write the best short story or live in the hippest neighborhood and see the best band, then I will finally, finally be cool. I will be Kim Gordan and YG can be Thurston Moore. The MG can be Cocoa. :-)

[Note: I understand that wanting to be cool is so not cool. And so, so lame. While I'm at it, can I say that I want to be skinny and cool? And have really great, cool hair in a perfect shade of rebellious-yet-corporate-acceptable red?]

What a trip down memory lane, though. All the fashion articles (Kim France pants? Under my kilt with fishnets and a combat boot?) and the music articles (Ween!) and the Kurt and Courtney cover and the Junk Food Taste Test. It makes me want to go read all the old issues of Sassy which I think may still be in the basement at my parents' house if my mom or I didn't throw them out in a fit of making room for other stuff that we don't need. [Note: if anyone is looking for any birthday present ideas and you might be somebody related to me that might have access to the cabinet in the basement, check that shit out pronto]

Sassy, man -- I am frickin old. Sigh.

What I Meant To Say

I am running 2.5 miles THREE times a week. Not just once a week. And I was indeed up at weigh in. Violence was avoided. Boring talk about stretching more and the horrifying mention of Curves For Women was not.

Banned

"There will be no using of the ass word from now on."
--The Management
[Otherwise known as the MG]


In other news, my job can blow me.
In other other news, my job blowing has seriously helped my work out regime. I am almost done with Couch to 5K and am now running 2.5 miles a week. Hope to finish the program in two weeks.
In other other other news, the running has helped save my sanity during weigh ins at WW. I am stuck, stuck, stuck in the same place, gaining and losing the same three pounds. And when Neurotic Fakey Happy WW Leader asks me "were you expecting this?" when the scale points up, the running helps me from beating her face in and shouting, "were you expecting THAT, bitch?" and then running [quickly] approximately 2.5 miles away.

First Post From the New Digs

Technically, we've been here a month, but YG set up the desktop PC today. That should tell you how much of a technophile I am -- I haven't missed it, I didn't die and I don't need an iPhone.

Things are settling down. We moved here and then YG went to Chicago for a week, then we were in Long Island, then I went away, then we had a family party and that's our first month. It's already the middle of the summer and we're only now getting around to hanging pictures and going through the piles of mail that have accumulated. Here's hoping this is the beginning of our "normal" life. We still need a desk and some other odds and ends.

I keep justifying that it's the PC and the desk that are preventing me from writing, but that's such bullshit -- I can write in Word and post later and it's not like I don't have a laptop. I just haven't had much to say that I really would like to deal with or process. I am so down on work -- the fact that it's 4 p.m. on a Sunday and I "should" be online checking work mail makes me die just a little bit inside. I've had a couple of days where I've seriously contemplated quitting, figuring that if I was under diress, I would figure out some other way to make money. It's not that the job itself is horrible and I do like my coworkers; it's just that it's not for me. And beyond my small circle of coworkers, there's nobody that I'm overly impressed with. I like working in a place where you look at the people above you on the chain, and you want to be like them or work with them or work for them. I don't have that where I am now, and I haven't had that for a long time. It isn't like my last job where I was convinced everyone was seriously mentally deficient -- I'm just not...impressed.

I'm just to a point where I can't contemplate doing this for the rest of my life. Or even for the rest of this year.

But what then? That's why I don't want to talk about it. Because what then? I'm blocked on my next move. Writing? School? Bleh. I'm lucky that I'm fortunate enough to have such "problems."

In the meantime, there are plenty of things going right. The new house is great. Living with YG and the MG has been a non-issue. I've gotten home enough to enjoy the time with my family. And I've survived this first year in Massachusetts, and it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere. I've been reading a lot, eating at a lot of great restaurants and generally just enjoying the city. So, if you've got any ideas for what I should be doing job-wise [or ways to make money other than stripping or selling drugs], comments are open.

Bitch, Please!

Internet access in Long Island? Seriously? We just got cable a few years ago. And now? Now, we have the untapped power of the Information Superhighway.

Missing in Inaction

Two quick notes:

* Not dead -- moving, crazy at work and getting ready to leave for VACATION. One week in Long Island and then a weekend with some girlfriends up here in Mass. One week of NOT WORKING. Thank you, Jesus.

* I love you, Jeff Tweedy. You rocked last night, and you played everything on my "best of Wilco" playlist: Hummingbird, Handshake Drugs, I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, I'm The Man Who Loves You, California Stars. Everything! I lurve you! And I'm still on my concert high.

Last Few Nights of Living Alone

I should be packing, but I feel I should relish this special moment of being alone prior to moving in with YG: because in a few days, I will probably be embarrassed if anyone else came home and saw me on the couch drinking beer and eating cheese in my pajams trying to pretend like I wasn't thoroughly enjoying "The Starter Wife" on TBS.

Weekend Visitors

How could you not love this face?






Or this one, for that matter?






More weekend fun here.

P.S.

Memorial Day weekend was beyond awesome, but I haven't written about that yet because it would require, ya know, effort and a can-do, winning attitude.

Moving Blows

I have spent a glamorous evening vacuuming, cleaning the fridge and will now embark upon the mess that is the bathroom. There are boxes everywhere. I'm desperately cleaning so that when NN and K come up this weekend (yay), I don't let their offspring choke on a hairball that I've left to rot on the floor. Seriously, I could construct a whole army of cats with all the hair around here. Sigh.

Does this constitute writing? Or whining? Or both? Maybe? A little? Whatever.

On more whining: I am still chubina despite the Couch to 5K program AND 26 miles on my bike this weekend. I drowned my sorrows last night in this lovely concoction mixed up of foods in the house that I don't want to move with me: one pound pasta, lots of salt, lots of pepper, glob of olive oil, grated cheese. Hawht!

I am TIRED.

Sticky, sticky, stuck

From an email message that I sent to YG. Edits made to assure that I don't get my ass fired.

"Today was a little meh. I talked with [boss]and he doesn't see [boss'
bosses] hiring somebody for [position that I am doing, but shouldn't and
position in which I am not particularly happy] for at least six months.
:-( I don't know where he's getting that from, but it just put me in a
bad mood and I did a LinkedIn/Monster search at lunch just to see what's out
there. Again - one year later. I *really* don't want just another job, but I
think I need to talk to somebody (maybe a [life coach name] person or a
career counselor or whatever) because. . . I think I'm
stuck. Sigh. "

I know I'm smart. And a hard worker. I just don't know what I should do with that. And all of the "what should I do with my life?" and "what color is your parachute?" and "Zen and the art of making a living" shit that lines my bookshelves is apparently not helping.

You Should Read This

You should be checking out Elastic Waist anyway, but this is a worthwhile read. I am horrified.

This is Your Life

I’m not sure how I discovered the blog East Side Girl, but I love it. It’s well written and usually makes me laugh. This post, though, got me thinking about all the wonderful “nothing special” days that I’ve been having lately. It’s been busy – very busy. We’re moving and packing and in a general state of harriedness, and YG has been crazy at work, managing the ECT, and working to make sure the MG can stay in her current school system. Emotionally, everyone is all over the map.

But it hasn’t been all bad. In fact, it hasn’t been bad at all. It should be really stressful, but we’ve been managing, and I’m actually looking forward to moving in. This past weekend, we didn’t do much. I had a fever and a horrendous cold last week so I worked from home on Thursday and Friday, switching from sleeping to working to sleeping to feeling sorry for myself to sleeping. On Saturday morning, I was DYING to get out of the house, but we were entering into Day 4 of craptastic, rainy weather. YG went to yoga class, while MG and I ate breakfast and watched What Not to Wear. I took her down to SuperCuts and we both got blowouts and then picked up my drycleaning and filled the car up with gas. None of this was glamorous by any means, but the MG kept talking about how much FUN she has when she’s with us. It makes me both happy and sad. Happy that she’s happy, but sad that she’s not when we’re not around. I’ve analyzed and am analyzing what it is that I do differently that makes it so fun for her, and I’ve found….nothing. I don’t really act different around her. I certainly swear less, and I try to keep all my opinions (i.e. usual rants and raves) in check, but I don’t go out of my way to do any kid things with her. I just don’t exclude her from what I’M doing. Maybe that makes her feel special? Maybe it makes me a selfish asshole? I’m not sure – I just know that it’s easy to drag her around while I do my errands.

Later that afternoon, we went over to the new place to measure and try and map out where all of our stuff is going to fit. It was just as good as I remembered. I’ll have to get rid of more items to make the place work, but I’m not as angsty about it as I was a few weeks ago. I’ll be sad to see some of these items go – I can remember exactly where they sat in my grandparents’ apartment in Brooklyn, but it’s time to move on now. And I think we’ve come to a good compromise. I am still excited about the massive amount of closet space, along with a cubby devoted to just my shoes. Oh joy!

We left the car at the new place and then took the *bounce, bounce* miniscule 10 minute walk to Davis, grabbing pizza and subs at Mike’s before taking the T to Berklee for a Dan Zanes show. THAT was a blast. I could write a long post about how craptastic “kids” music is (see: Hannah Montana) and how annoying it is to have the MG repeat the same horrendous song over and over again (see: Hannah Montana), but I won’t because I made my parents take me to A New Kids On The Block concert when I was 11 and I put up posters of Donnie Walberg all over their basement, so Hannah Montana is probably my karmic payback. Dan Zanes was fun for the MG AND for me. Lots of cute kids and hipster parents bouncing around. The usual “cult of the child” people and some anxietymoms overly obsessed with their kids not being able to see or bounce properly, but overall, a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon. We walked in the rain to the Prudential Center stores to kill some time shopping before heading back to dinner at an Italian place in Davis.

Sidenote: YG and I watched Before Sunset on Saturday night a few months after watching Before Sunrise, a movie I adored when it came out. It started off bad, mainly because I think Ethan Hawke is and plays douchebag really well, but then moved into enjoyable. Overall, it made me think, though, that people my age aren’t really that interesting.

On Sunday we woke up and the sun was out for the first time in four days. YG took the MG to Sunday school while I stayed around to pack. It was still relatively sunny when I left for church, but opened up into a downpour on my walk. Of course, I had no umbrella. L I was late and cranky and wet by the time I got there and not entirely enthused by the idea of sitting in wet clothes for an hour, but our church always manages to rock it out. The pastor gives wonderful sermons, but we had a guest speaker this week who talked about the meaning of Ascension Sunday and how pragmatic Protestants have trouble with the “mysticism” and “mysteriousness” of the event. (not something the ex-Catholics like myself have problems with). She talked about how the disciples were all real people with problems (not belivieving, lying, betraying and the like), but yet they were able to get on with spreading the good word. I took away that I don’t need to spend so much time worrying about my various states of disbelief, I could just get on with it. So yeah, nice time.

Afterwards we had Beatles brunch at Cambridge Common. The music, duh, was good, as was the food. The mimosas are not nearly as good as Temple Bars, but I just discovered that Temple puts vodka in their mimosas…hence the excellence. As we were leaving, it downpoured again and while we trying to figure out how to fit 3 humans under one small umbrella, YG heard the voice of one, John Malkovich. He lives in Harvard Square, but I’ve never seen him before, and I know I should mention that he’s an awesome actor and acclaimed enough to have a movie made about people entering the portal to his brain, but I’ll always know him as I’ll always know him as Dr. Jeff/Ulysses the Android. Words cannot express how much I LOVED that movie when I was about 10 – around the same time as I loved NKOTB. The fashion stylings of PR consultant, Frankie Stone, were sooooo 1987. I digress. The Malkovich didn’t seem too happy that we were staring, but whatever – random celebrity sightings don’t occur that often in my neighborhood.

We walked back home, and YG described it this way, “You, me, MG, in the rain and no one complaining about it. At all. Just happy to be together, soaked to the bone but content.”

The perfect weekend.

Placeholder For Very Important Things

Sometimes I have the best intentions. I noticed last week that my first blog post ever was last year on May 11, 2006 and I was going to write this very epic, yet totally not self involved, year in review about how much things have changed, how I've been remiss in not keeping this up to date (but have kept it up longer than I thought I would), and what's next in my epic, but not self-involved life. And then I didn't. I watched t.v. [sidenote: can we all have a hand clap for Lost regaining its awesomeness? Yes? Thanks.]

And then I was going to write another post about how it's Mothers Day and how awesome (and totally insane) my mom is, and then I really wanted to write it after and spending yesterday with NN and K and offspring, and NN said, "Can you write a book about your family? They're so funny." But I didn't. I stayed up late and watched the Yankee game [Yes Network, how I've missed you] with my parents and wrapped Mother's Day gifts and finished reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (um, meh).

And I was going to write about the wonder of the Acela "quiet car" and how great it is to have total silence for four hours and not have to listen to douchebags talking on their cell phones. And why you should always put vegetables in peanut sauce. But I didn't.

So consider this a placeholder for very important things.

Happy Birthday, MG!

Feliz cumpleanos. Numero ocho.

We Have A Place To Live

After a series of misses and a lot of freaking out on my part, we have finally found the perfect place to live. Great neighborhood, great place, great perks -- I'm really excited. I know that we'll be happy there and the MG gets a really cool room, and we get an office...and relatively important, I get to keep all my shoes. :-)

Now on to the packing...

In other news, the bad news stuff that I alluded to in one of my last posts is getting better. I really wanted something at work. It didn't work out, and I thought I was okay with it, but after a particularly bad week last week, I ended CRYING...AT WORK. In front of my boss. I am horrified and mortified and so goddam pissed at myself for getting so emotional. I feel like it makes me look like someone that can't be taken seriously, that shouldn't be given big tasks, etc. I'm still sort of shaken, but am hoping that I can put it behind me. Or better yet, hoping that everyone that witnessed my meltdown can. It's not a regular occurance, but I loathe anything that makes me appear, well, ...human, to anybody else.

On the good work news, we have a new person on the team that I'm very excited to work with. Things didn't work out for me, but she was the only person that I considered a real asset and that I really wanted to work with. Back to the mortification -- I'm absolutely horrified that my sniffles and crying and meltdown occured during her first week, but fingers crossed that she doesn't think I'm a total dipshit and will let me prove how good I can be. I haven't been this excited to work with a bunch of people in a long time.

That's the abridged version. I had a long drawn out post about how I should just quit my job and work at Starbuck's because I am obviously incompetent. But I'm not. I'm pretty fucking smart, and I had a pretty great weekend so I declare an end to the wallowing.

Anxiety Attack

I am moving. With YG and MG. We're looking for a place in my neighborhood, but bigger and with a yard and/or deck where MG-aged people can play. This should be relatively easy. It should be quick. It should be FUN.

But I am wracked with anxiety. We've looked at a number of places, and none have been perfect for various reasons. I was ready to sell my firstborn for an apartment we looked at on Sat. in the perfect location, but a not-so-perfect pricetag and no room for expansion. Then last night, we found another almost perfect one with a OMG-I-could-save-so-much-$ pricetag and perfect yard in the perfect neighborhood, but two closets and a teeny tiny master bedroom that would fit YG's big bed and not much else. In short, I would need to get rid of most of my big things and A LOT of my clothes and shoes. I already signficantly pared that stuff down when I moved up here last year and some of it has sentimental value (my grandparents' furniture) so...ack.

Of course, I know what this is all about because I read self-help books and take yoga and am all self-aware. It's about security blankets. It's about MY stuff and ME and protecting ME. If I get rid of all my stuff and it doesn't work out, I end up with nothing again. And what if it doesn't work out again? I'm moving in...with a boy. The last time I did this, I got married, and as you know, my track record for unsuccessful marriages and bitter, painful divorces is stellar. Do I need a china cabinet? Am I the type of person who even uses china? I eat hot pockets and take out. Do I need 6 pairs of black boots and twelve pairs of Classic Fit straight-legged black pants? Probably not. But this stuff is mine, and I'm possessive and weird and obviously FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

And I have two months to find a place so all of this is premature and we will find a place, and I won't be relegated to the only two other obvious options for me if I don't find a place to live:
1. selling crack on the streets
2. living on my parents' couch back in the NJ suburbs, watching WPIX reruns and wearing velour sweatsuits

Sigh.

Estoy Cansado (Vacation Recap: The Mexican Edition)

I’ve been back from Mexico for about a week, trying to slowly ease myself back into work, and it’s just not fun. My life would be a lot easier if I could have mimosas every morning at breakfast, and someone came around with margaritas around 10 a.m. Do I start with the bad or the good? Hmmm….

The good. I’ll start with vacation. It was awesome, incredible, relaxing, and all the other good adjectives that one could imagine. We left early Saturday morning and drove down to NJ for a belated Easter (the Lord rises late for us), Brian’s birthday and a stop at Forth & Towne – before, sniff, it closes. I had made a New Year’s Resolution to stop spending so much money on clothes, and I gave up shopping for Lent, so it had been a while since I bought anything new. Of course, everything was fantastic and I have some cute new wrap dresses and funky t-shirts for summer. WHY is this store closing? I ended up talking with the sales girl for a while about how sad we were about the shutdown and why the clothes fit so great (the secret is the fit model. It’s a size 10 woman). All the 14-year-old aneoerexics and the un-boobed have their own stores. Why can’t I have mine?

We had dinner with the extended family down in Freehold (Broooce!) and ate like fat bastards and with the exception of a minor delay last Sunday morning due to the Noreaster, got the hell down to Mexico. Our seats were spread apart, but YG ended up swapping and got a seat next to the MG. I was seated next to a young couple who were going on their honeymoon, and were perfectly pleasant minus the fact that they were wearing glittery “just married” t-shirts.

Immigration was long and hot, but uneventful. I am always amazed by Americans and their sweatshirts when I travel. Granted, I am not a fashionista, but a corporate-logo-ed crewneck sweatshirt as travel attire? Please. There’s always a little part of me that secretly hopes that all the people wearing ill-fitted America: These Colors Don’t Bleed sweatshirts with eagle artwork are all engaged in some form of group performance art. That would be awesome.

After some haggling with the crazy airport timeshare people and a bus ride, we finally arrived at the resort. It seemed nice enough, but YG’s persistence, the MG’s cuteness and my jugs helped us score a nicer room with a terrace and a balcony, overlooking the resort and the ocean at no extra cost. The MG and I quickly put our swimsuits on and ran down to the pool, while YG got some “alone time” to unwind and develop some strategies to not kill the two of us during a week’s worth of family fun. The MG swam while I provided the best supervision one can while drinking margaritas and reading Allure.

The rest of the week provided much of the same. I’ve never done an all-inclusive resort before, and if it was just YG and I, I might not do it again. But with a kid? Awesome! She made a few friends at Kids Club and we never had to worry about where we were going to eat or go for entertainment. None of the food was fantastic, but none of it was bad either. It was middle of the road, with the exception of some fantastic guacamole. And I never developed a raging case of the poops, so….all good.

The grounds were beautiful. We spent a lot of time lounging by the pool and on the beach. I thought I’d spend a lot more time reflecting, writing, figuring out all my big issues and shit, but I didn’t. I just RELAXED. I drank a lot. I ate a lot. I swam a lot. I read a lot [4 books: finished the Barack Obama book, finally read Housekeeping, and started both Intuitive Eating and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius] and listened to my iPod. I did some writing, but nothing intense – a lot of “wow, the water is really blue and warm and I am very happy, blah, blah, blah” stuff. I didn’t obsess about my body. I spent most of the week in a bathing suit and nobody died. I even showed a coworker some of the pictures from vacation with me in a bathing suit and again, nobody died. The MG and I rode the waves, and the YG and I spent a lot of time making eyes at each other and being happy to be around each other. Kind of gross, actually. J

On Wednesday, we took a boat to Isla Mujeres and rode the waterslide and did some “shopping” at some of the crappy tourist shops downtown. It was sort of a cheesy trip and could have been bad (i.e. the promised “beautiful beach and waterslide” was actually more like ghetto plastic slide running into the skeevy lagoon where the boats dock), but we tried to have fun and actually did. I nearly cracked my skull on the waterslide. Those things are wicked fun (see, I’m getting the lingo!). On the ride back, the MG entertained the whole boat with her sick moves and interpretive dance. We walked along the beach that night and laid on the lounge chairs, watching the sky. I saw a shooting star and a few satellites and got a little teary because the whole night was very pretty and Walton’s and nice.

MG played with her Canadian friend from Kids Club on Thursday, and we had dinner with her parents. On Friday, we set up camp at one of the small beach huts and stayed there for the whole day. It was the best day all week with lots of swimming and playing and shell hunting and snacks and candy bars in the sand. The MG won a dance contest that night, and YG and I were able to watch ESPN and the Yankees/Sox game. [sidenote: Yankees. WTF?]

Saturday it was back to the airport and long, sweaty lines and nasty people. The take-off was smooth, though, and I saw our resort from the air. And then we were back. In New Jersey. With Godfather and Maggie Moo's.

I don’t feel like getting into the bad quite yet, so I’ll just leave it at that for now.

And I'm trying to upload the pictures to Flickr, but she's totally being a bitch right now. Grrr...

Photo Goodness...or BB and Phil Come to Boston

Stop pushing up my headers, Blogger!



If this were ten years ago, there would be somebody grabbing somebody else's boob.

Letter to the missing party.

The happy couple.

Group shot.

More over on Flickr.

A Good Day Ends With Projectile Vomiting

One more work day until Mexico!

Unfortunately today's work day ended with being projectile vomited on by some drunk hozzle on the T. Good times. Adding insult to injury, a group of fratties felt the need to imitate said projectile vomiting every time she heaved.

The worst thing about this -- I have to dry clean a pair of pants I wore only once.

40 Days and 40 Nights

That seems about how long it's been since I've updated. It's not that I don't want to -- and I even have these flashes of "that's pretty funny, I should put it on my blog for the 3 people that read it," but then I forget or the "hassle" of logging on (all 1 minute) seems insurmountable. Blame it on Tyra Banks -- she's the one that puts on America's Next Top Model. And when it comes down to it? Writing about my life vs. watching rappers throw aneorexics in a pool? The aneorexics are going to win every time.

Things that are going on:
* One week until Cancun! I'm going to have to earn this vacation with another hell week at work, but good lord, I will be in Cancun, hopefully doing shots, entering a wet t-shirt contest and riding a mechanical bull in one week. Not really, but that would be awesome.

* BB and Phil came up to Massachusetts last weekend and we had fun trudging around the city, looking at old photos and eating lots of food. I hadn't seen them in over a year so it was good to catch up. Plus, we got to tell YG the "heh -- remember when your dad slipped me the beef" story. Lesson learned -- if it tastes better than chicken, it's veal. And second lesson -- cutting out beef, but continuing to chow down on salted pork does not make a vegetarian.
I'm hoping that we can get up to Syracuse some time soon and all hang out in spandex.

* Baseball season started! Carl Pavano lives. And sucks.
A work friend has extra tickets for a Yankees/Red Sox game at Fenway and offered them to me, but we'll be in Cancun. Muy mal.

* Being bummed that I'm missing all sorts of good shows because I'm old and not all hip and cool and camping out overnight for tickets. All of the following were on my "I absolutely have to see these guys live" list, and by the time I got my shit together, were sold out: Spoon, Arcade Fire, Modest Mouse, and Cowboy Junkies. Also sold out -- the Toasters. The Toasters! How frickin' cool would that have been? I saw the Toasters in London in 1996. I'm bummed.
However, I am going to see Morrissey this summer with cool work colleague, the Doctor. Yes, I'm a little old for that. No, I really don't care. I plan to wear all black, smoke clove cigarettes and write in my journal about my pain, my deep and heartfelt pain. The anguish.

* Of the things I was going to blog about, but keep forgetting due to Tyra: open letters.
Like an open letter to my ass.
Dear ass, I like it that you're loud and boisterous just like me. But please, keep it down at work. Really. Thanks. -jm
Dear makers of low-rise tights, Was this really something that we, as a society, needed? Seriously? Did someone come up to you and say "hey, I really need something that's going to hang over my belly roll, threaten to fall down all the time and force to me to be rootin' around in my ass every five minutes"? There must have been asking for them. Because only a dick would invent this torture device otherwise. -- jm
Yeah, they sound much funnier in my head.

* Easter. Woo hoo! Cadbury cream eggs. Beer! Ham! Mmmm.....pork and Jesus' return. Good stuff.

Snow Day

After a few days of 60 degree weather, we're back to snow and ice again. So strange. I was relishing my few days of skirts, and shoes with no socks, and the banishment of the dreaded winter granny sock. Yeah, how hot is that? You know you want those legs.

Now it's all snowy and icy and rainy and bleh. I did make it into the office this morning to have what's becoming a ritual panic attack about how much I didn't get done, and then I left for the trek home in the snow, narrowly missing getting sideswiped by some dumb motherfucker in a SUV who deemed himself invincible. :-(

With the exception of today, though, it's officially the brown season -- that crappy couple of months between the prettiness of the white winter and the beginning of Spring. Honestly, I've been busy but not busy enough to justify not writing. I've just been feeling sort of blah and uninteresting with lots of daily rants about the people that cut me off on the road and people that talk too long on their cell phones and people that move too slow, but you don't really need to hear about that. I save the real, juicy details of my glamarama life for you, dear readers.

What I have been doing:

* I went back to the Whip a few weeks ago for my dad's birthday. I took YG and the MG and we had a good time, but as usual, it seemed too short. The three of us slept in my old room. Me in my bed, YG in Beckshack's and the MG on an air mattress between us. I think that's the first time a boy [that I wasn't married to] has ever been allowed to sleep in the room with me at my parents' house. Woo hoo -- those crazy hippies! It's a slippery slope now. We're all slouching towards Gomorrah from here.

* I saw Dean & Britta at the MFA last week, and it was divine and lovely and swoon-inducing. YG and I were having some wine and appetizers at the cafe, and they both walked in and I didn't think either of them were quite as attractive as I remembered. Attractive, but....weathered. But then they started singing and I was transfixed and convinced it would have been an even better show if we could have all made out. I had no idea that Britta was Jem.

I think it would be really awesome if she just busted out with "Showtime Synergy!" in the middle of a set sometime. Don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.

* I just finished Fast Food Nation. Shout out to East Hanover for manufacturing the "flavor" of some of this stuff. Helped me understand why people become vegetarians. I think I'm going to have a hard time with hamburgers for a while.

* Work. Still one man down. Still busy. I'm getting more responsibility and I still do like it, but somedays I wonder where I'm going with all this. I had a day earlier in the week with a bunch of nagging shit and it was 60 degrees out and sunny, and I had this very, very, VERY strong urge to win the lottery. I wouldn't quit working. I just wouldn't care so much what people thought of me. And I'd do a lot more clubs and sports and reading and writing because if I got fired for slacking? Suck it, bitches -- I won the lotto! :-)

* Obsessively reading other people's brilliant blogs, rather than working on my own. I absolutely adore Big Fat Deal. And, as always, am a religious reader of Go Fug Yourself, although their warning about the immient arrival of shorts jumpsuits gave me hives.

* And I have some fun stuff coming up in the next few weeks. BB and NN and their respective other halves and spawn will be coming up for a weekend soon; I finally get to see SKB sing; Easter, another visit to the Whip, and MEXICO!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY YG!

Happy, happy, happy! The last birthday in your 30s. Let the hookers and crack commence.

Oh Self Loathing, How I've Missed You

Numbers. Numbers. Numbers. I haven’t written about WW and my weight for a while because it’s boring, and to be more honest, it hasn’t been going so hot. I’ve been unmotivated and then I was traveling for a while – three meals a day on the road, eating at weird times, lots of drinking, etc. Still, when I was in San Francisco, I got my ass up every morning between 5:30 and 6:30 and went to the gym; I walked about 10 miles over one weekend, I wrote down every freaking bit of food and drink I put into my mouth.

And I gained 8.8 lbs since my last weigh-in on January 24. 8.8 pounds.

To give you some context, it took me about a year to get to my 10% goal on WW a few years back. That was 18 lbs at the time. I lost a little over a pound a month. I just gained 8.8 pounds in ONE month. I have about 3 pairs of pants that fit and I’m totally in the middle of eating a big slice of my own messed-up headcake.

I wish it didn’t matter so much to me. I know that I was able to work out, walk, and have fun without getting out of breath, so I’m obviously in okay shape. I wish this was all about my health. I also logically know that being overweight doesn’t equal being a “bad” person, or an “unworthy” person.

I KNOW that stuff. But it never actually feels that way when you’re staring at that number on the scale and making all sorts of wide-ranging assumptions about your self-worth because it’s much higher than it’s supposed to be. I can tell myself about a million good things about me that I think are pretty cool, but when I see that number on the scale, I hate myself just a little bit.
And that’s so wrong. And so stupid. And let’s face it, so self-involved.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. The three traditional practices people usually take up during Lent are prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving(justice towards neighbor). Maybe in the next 40 days, I can stop loathing myself over stupid shit, treat myself right and free up some time to help somebody other than myself. When I think of all the time I could be spending thinking about “important things” and not my weight/WW/good food vs. bad food/the size of my ass in jeans….I am amazed.

ETA: Went and had a glass of wine and then went to the mass?/service (whatever the UCC calls it) for Ash Wednesday, and it was really nice and I feel much, much better.

Normal Life Returns

This is the first weekend in a looong time that I have not been traveling or planning on traveling or packing for traveling. It's nice. I'm not doing much of anything glamorous, but it feels ....normal.

The work week was back to normal, with the exception of a snow storm on Wednesday that crapped things up for a bit. Given that this is Massachusetts and it's supposed to be cold and snowy in the winter, I figured that everyone would be at work. Wrong. Drove an hour in the snow and discovered only a handful of folks there, so I went to a bunch of meetings and then drove home again in near white-out conditions. That took another hour, and when I turned into the parking lot, it wasn't plowed and I got totally, utterly, awfully stuck. Shovel. Gun it. Shovel. Gun it. Shovel. Gun it. Nada. By this time, it was freezing rain; I was soaking wet, and getting a tad freaked out by the guy in the truck staring at me while I was doing all this. He got out of his truck, walked over, and I assumed he was a Good Samaritan coming to help out. Nooo. He said, "Are you going to be doing that much longer? I really want to get out of here." Then he walked back and sat in his truck. WTF? Usually I can come up with a snappy comeback or just the tried-and-true "go fuck yourself," but my jaw just dropped. Thankfully YG responded to my Bitch Call and came and helped me out. I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between laundry, conference calls and email, before we went to Sandrine's for Valentine's Day dinner. The food was yummy, we got a bottle of white burgundy, and then spent a romantic evening shoveling ice.

Last night, I saw the MG for the first time in three weeks and we went to Friendly's and played balloon volleyball -- standard fare. I missed her while I was gone. This morning, we went sledding and she's downstairs now on a "play date" with her friend, frosting cookies. YG is reading, I'm up here and it feels good to be doing nothing that requires actual movement or aerobic exercise.

We're heading back into Cambridge tonight for our usual Sunday -- church and then Temple Bar for brunch. In preparation for Lent, here are the things I'm giving up:
1. shoes
2. beer
3. chocolate
4. dropping f-bombs

JC would be so proud!

I suppose I should think about DOING something, rather than giving things up, but it's hard to erase what's ingrained. I had thought about committing to doing this (the blog, writing, etc) for at least 40 days, but that's sort of selfish, and more for me than anyone else. But then again, happy me = happy others. I dunno -- it's a bit shoddy logic, ya know? What's the difference between that and say, "Well, hookers and coke make ME happy so....everyone wins!"

I'm not feeling very inspired right now. Just content. And that makes for boring reading.

So I'll just link you to some funny shit that made me nearly pee my pants:

* Brenda Dickson -- Welcome to My Home Part One
Despite the frightening return of leggings, the 80's seem so very far away. "There was a time in my career when I wouldn't be caught dead in a gown like this," said while wearing a gold lame dress with shoulder pads.

* Part Two.
Make-up and diet tips.

During this religious season, I personally want to thank Jesus for Youtube.

Public Service Announcement

Jet lag sucks. The red eye sucks. Too much "urgent" email in my inbox after only one day of vacation sucks.

San Francisco does not suck. Cellophane noodles with Dungeness crab at Slanted Door does not suck. Drinking lots of champagne and wine in Napa does not suck. The chicken at The Rutherford Grill does not suck. Having an extra vacation weekend with YG does not suck.

The fact that I experience all these great moments and do not think to write them down -- that, does in fact, suck.

No, I'm Not A Missing Person

Just busy with work, and today, busy with recovering from a tequila hangover. 4 margaritas = a LOT.

In sad news, this week, an old buddy died. Finn -- my college roommate and best friend's cat. She got Finn at the same time as I got Alistair, and we all lived together for a bit. Finn and Alistair would sleep at the bottom of my bed. It's hard to mourn the passing of a pet. It's all just very....melancholy.

My next post will be from California.