Top Ten List -- WW

Happy birthday to Sean! 14! Wow.
Watching baseball -- Joe's staying and the Mets won the first game.

Inspired by this that links to this.

I haven’t been blogging that much and I really haven’t been talking a lot about Weight Watchers because it’s kind of boring and I don’t really want to do the weight loss blog thing. I am doing WW at work, though, and I really like our leader. She’s this great little Italian lady – grew up in the North End in a family that owned an Italian bakery and she lost over 100 lbs. This week’s “topic” was to identify our “winning outcome” and write it down, along with our weight loss goals. Because I find it almost impossible to stay serious during these things and I’m attending with a colleague who’s just as cynical as I am, I wrote down my winning outcome as:

I want to look hot on the pole when I go to Amateur Night at Faces.

Not a terrible goal, but not exactly MY goal. But it did get me thinking about why I’m doing this, still spending the money, still doing the meetings every week, still trying to get to my magical GOAL weight.

“To lose weight” just doesn’t make sense anymore. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that being thinner isn’t going to make me any happier. I am amazed by how much of my life I spent thinking that was true. But I’ve been smaller and I’ve been bigger – neither have made me any more or less happy. I’ve come to accept that I’ll always have some sort of body dysmorphia – that the person JM sees in the mirror is not the real me, nor is it the me that anyone else sees. When I’m really in my head, I think that I have some sort of tragic figure flaw, that I have huge hips, a big nose, bad hair, bad skin. Add on my “fat” knees, my perceived moustache, the Bert brows, my huge ass, my too-fat calves, etc….and yeah, circus freak.
But I’m not. I’m okay. I’m normal. And I really, really don’t want to keep up the mindfuck – that adapting myself to someone else’s standards of beauty (even when that someone else is ME) – is going to make me look or feel any better long term.

Um, so yeah, WW is not going to make me any happier. And I look okay as is. So what am I here for?

I present my top ten, in no particular order:

1. I want to wear size 8 pants. The last time I lost weight I threw out a bunch of clothes and spent a TON of money on new size 8 pants. A ton. Some, no, most still have tags on them and are sitting at the top of my closet in a box labeled “Size 8 pants.”
2. Again, with the clothes – I want to be at a stable enough weight to justify spending money on quality pieces. I’d rather get rid of all my cheapie pants and dresses and replace them with fabulously tailored pair that will last forever. Less is more. When your pants size changes so often, it’s hard to justify a $250 pair of pants.
3. Also on the fashion front – I want to wear a two-piece bathing suit. Not some ass-jiggling stringy thing, but one of those classic bikinis from JCrew. Yes, there’s the boob problem and JCrew’s advertising campaign might as well be “We hate boobies, hips and the people that own them” but I love the streamlined look of their bathing suits. Sexy, not hoochie.
4. I want to learn (at 30) what this healthy eating thing is with the fruits and the vegetables and that stuff. I can count points, but I’m still getting most of my food from the microwave and boxes and eating out. I KNOW this is *really* bad and I keep saying that I’m going to stop it and learn how to cook, but then I never do. Still wanting to learn, though.
5. I wouldn’t mind breeding some day. I assume that healthy eating breeds better mini-mes and I wouldn’t mind a mini-JM that preferred fruit to say, Drake’s Chocolate Brownies in a shrink-wrapped pack. Being healthier would also help me keep up with all my demon spawn.
6. I want a new bike. I’m so glad that YG got me into biking, and I doubled my miles this summer. I’m outgrowing my bike, though – I’ve gotten fast enough that I sometimes run out of gears. I’d love to get a road bike. These are pretty.
7. Re: bike. I want to do a Century.
8. Re: bike. I want to kick YG’s ass (or at least keep up) in Century.
9. I want to run a half marathon. Seriously, I put this on my New Year’s Resolutions list EVERY YEAR (along with learning to blow out my hair better and finding the perfect red lipstick). I want to do it, though. Sometimes I just feel like running. If I were in better shape and better toned, I’d feel better about attempting this.
10. And I’m stealing this one directly from Lose The Buddha: “I want to spend the time I use beating myself up to instead give myself a facial.” I’m not into facials, but I want to spend the time I use beating myself up to do…pretty much anything else. Read, write, whatever.

Anyway, that’s it for now. I’m sure I’ll think of other goals as I go along, but right now I’m happy that the majority of my weight loss goals are about my health and exercising, as opposed to magically being happy because I can finally ride the pole.

"A Piniella Return Could Benefit Rodriguez Most"

Seething over this article in the New York Times.

WHY? WHY? WHY? Don't get me wrong -- who doesn't like Lou? But WHY are we catering to this little pissant? It's Joe's fault that he can't do shit in the postseason? Joe is supposed to keep him batting clean up and let the whole team suffer because batting him 8th hurts his precious psyche? The whole team needs a new manager because he can't live up to his gazillion-dollar paycheck? Sorry, that's just bullshit.

I'm upset my team lost. Upset, but not surprised. We're officially the Atlanta Braves now. :-(

The Tigers and The Mets have been the Cinderella stories all year so I'm hoping that will be the end match up. STL and Oakland? Who cares? And it's been 20 years since the 86 series so I will, begrudgingly, say "Let's Go Mets!"

Yeah, It's Lame but TGIF

Long week. I left work around 3 and am logged in from home and it feels like a monster luxury. A couple of things:
* Still processing the events of earlier in the week.
* Am so happy that all my TV is back on: Lost, Grey's Anatomy, Gilmore Girls, etc. Now I don't have to pretend that I'm a cultural elitist anymore. I can just sink into my couch with my beer and guacamole and be happy.
* The new Yo La Tengo is REALLY good.
* Work. Still like the job, but had a crazy few days with trying to finalize two press releases after being out of the office for 3 days.
* I ALWAYS feel guilty when I take time off of work, even when it's vacation. Even when it's something awful like a family funeral and a divorce. I have no idea what this is about -- I've just always been this way. On my return, I got an email from UNNAMED PARTY reminding me that I should send "updates" to people so they "wouldn't think I dropped the ball." WTF? I still checked email. I let everyone know I was going to be out. I shot off a hasty (and uber snotty) reply and then went to fume outside for a bit. UNNAMED PARTY later half-heartedly apologized, but the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth.
* And then I feel guilty about even mentioning that here because UNNAMED PARTY is really not bad, and I have a pretty good gig and people seem to like me so....
* That being said, it made me really paranoid about leaving early these past few days. And my friend, M, is in town staying with me and I really wanted to take a day off and spend time with her, but was conflicted about it. :-(
* We're going out tonight.
* I'm going with YG to some family function to meet his extended family. Am brainstorming the perfect outfit. Something of the "she's very polished and classy, yet I can see very nice cleavage" genre.
* I had WW weigh in on Wed. I gained 1.5 lbs in one weekend with my family.
* I plan to be drunk A LOT this weekend.
* I plan on praying that doesn't cause any more bloat.

TGIF, bitches.

Epi

Back in Cambridge. It was hard. It sucked. I'm suddenly seeing my own parents and my aunt as very mortal. And I'm divorced. After years of ups and downs, the conclusion only took 15 minutes.

I came home to a clean house. YG cleaned my house while I was away, including the gross litter box, because he's just like that. A nice person. A good person who does nice things for other people rather than talking about doing nice things.

I'm going to bed shortly to prepare for what looks to be a grueling day at work tomorrow and to be nicely rested for when why houseguest, M, arrives. I'm very excited to have company -- it will help keep me out of my mopiness.

Lyrics that are resonating right now.
Grace -- Kate Havnevik
I'm on my knees
only memories
are left for me to hold

Dont know how
but Ill get by
Slowly pull myself together

Theres no escape
So keep me safe
This feels so unreal

Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it seems
Turn my grief to grace

I feel the cold
Loneliness unfold
Like from another world

Come what may
I wont fade away
But I know I might change

Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it was
Turn my grief to grace

Nothing comes easily
Where do I begin?
Nothing can bring me peace
Ive lost everything
I just want to feel your embrace

It's Going to Be a Long Weekend

Warning: blah coming.

It took 6.5 hours to get home yesterday. Ugh. My plan was to get up early, have my new mattress delivered and get out of the house quickly, and then stop in New Haven if my two friends were available for a coffee break. That was the plan anyway.

Work was hectic, though, so I worked in the morning from home. Then I realized that I'd be away for the better part of a week, and the day I am coming home (a day I was originally planning to work from home) is the day that my house guest is scheduled to arrive. So I needed to clean the house so she wouldn't be sleeping on a cat hair carpet and/or sticking to the bathroom floor. I left later than I wanted, around 1 p.m. and decided that I wouldn't stop in CT and would just barrel though and get home early enough to hang out with my grandma and my mom. I completely forgot that this was a holiday weekend, though, and got to New York around the same time that everyone going home for the Jewish holiday was probably leaving. It took TWO HOURS to get over the Tappan Zee Bridge. TWO HOURS! I don't miss the traffic AT ALL.

I comforted myself by stopping at Palisades Center and getting a sweater at Forth & Towne, but I was just drained. I attempted listening to To The Lighthouse on cd, but the soothing British narrator was putting me to sleep so I went back to Sleater Kinney. :-) Met the family at Bennigan's and watched I Love the 80s with my mom and paid my bills. Glam.

Today was just errands and an exercise in total gluttony -- the way I usually eat when I'm at home. There is so much FOOD here. Everyone and their brother has sent a fruit basket or candy or cookies. It's comforting and horrifying -- my best dream and worst nightmare all in one. I did get out and run for a while, but I still feel like I weigh about a million pounds. I stopped by Nana's and I was offered a piece of cake (yum) followed by a roast beef sandwich (double yum). I should note that this was AFTER lunch. AND we're going out for a fancy meal because it's my parents 34th wedding anniversary and they want to try and do "normal" stuff and not focus on the fact that we have to do the wake tomorrow.

What else can I bore you with? I bought three new CDs: Snow Patrol, the new Yo La Tengo, and Steely Dan, new sweatpants, and an extra pair of sheets at Century 21. Even my purchases are boring today. Oh, and I got my eyebrows waxed and a blowout. And I caught up on work email. Woo hoo.

I'm not looking forward to the next two days. I know it's necessary, but it's really easy to pretend like nothing has changed when it has. And then I get divorced on Tuesday.

The obit ran today.

My Grandfather Died

My Pop-Pop Christiano died earlier this evening. I guess when someone is 89 years old you can't call their death "unexpected," but it still feels unexpected. I just saw him and chatted with him, and he was with it and in good spirits, a few months ago. I feel incredibly sad.

The funeral is Monday. I was supposed to be in NJ for my Not Divorce hearing. Not Divorce, you ask? Yes, I have to appear in Court as part of some NJ pilot program where I have a "case management" hearing. I think I basically have to explain why I want to get divorced. After an almost two-year seperation. After we signed a mediation agreement EIGHT MONTHS AGO. After we sold our house and divied up our money months ago. After we've both been completey and totally emotionally battered by this and just want to get on with our lives. NOW I need to explain to someone WHY I want a divorce so I can get an actual divorce hearing. Yeah.

So my Not Divorce hearing needs to be rescheduled, pushing back my Real Divorce hearing even more. And I'm not even sure if this is "allowed." I basically told the lawyer: I'm not coming. I need to be at this funeral. Tell me what to do. I'm not negotiating.

And another one of my grandparents is dead.

Bye Bye Summer and Happy 10th Anniversary

Post vaguely inspired by this book and because yesterday was BSquared’s 29th birthday. Woo!

Fall 2006 is officially here. I normally wouldn’t mark such an occasion (my seasons are divided by what types of shoes I can wear: open toe, slides, ballet flats, boots and BOOTS of the LLBean-I-actually-wear-these-in-the-snow variety), but that means that Summer 2006 is over, and this summer was the 10-year anniversary of probably one of the most fun times I’ve ever had in my life.

In summer 1996, I was living in Syracuse, working at Bruegger’s Bagels and taking a poetry class. I was sort of aimless and fidgety, and while I told everyone that I was up there to take more classes, it was really about having a crush on a guy, another in a long line of musicians, actors, poets, writers, “artistes” if you will. He was tall and skinny and drove this ridiculous, beat up old car.

Also ridiculous – instead of living on campus, I lived way out in East Syracuse on Kirkland Ave. in this big condo complex with a pool, near the Carrier Circle Denny’s and close to nothing else. My two roommates were working at a strip club, until one moved to San Francisco with a “boyfriend” she made while stripping. The other had a boyfriend she kept secret from her disapproving parents, and he made frequent sweaty appearances on our futon (read: MY bed) in his tighty whiteys, drinking beers and eating chips.

I wanted to this to be the story of that summer, but as I started thinking about it more, I end up with all these bullet points that in my head make a cohesive story that can’t be told on paper. My other life is also getting in the way, and even though it's long past work time ending, I've got 3 press releases to draft and a number of other items to run down, and oh, it's Tuesday night with the MG so I'd rather spend the time playing thumb wrestling and Jenga with her than sit in front of the computer, before it's time to pack up the lunches and the homework. So...the abbreviated, things I can remember at this point in time, list.

It was the last summer I spent in Syracuse before I did my semester in London with NN and the summer I met BSquared and Phil ( I know I initial everyone else’s name, but Phil has always been and will always be Phil) and JT and the Mulligans, and of course, the worst future roommate ever, the Evil Harpie from Hell (EHH).

It was also the summer of:
* 850 Euclid. Sitting on the porch on the hill drinking beers and “Natural Ice” – a beer of sorts.

* Bruegger’s. EVERYONE I know worked there that summer, and we all showed up hungover and we all kvetched about the regulars like the butter lady and the chicken salad sandwich guys and the beat cops and the doctors and the vegan straight edge kids who would come in and order a plain bagel with vegetables. I am having flashbacks to having to slice the pickles and clean the grease trap, and gross, refill the condiments. On the surface, refilling the condiments is no big deal, but to refill the mayonnaise, you needed to dump it from this big tub of mayo into a plastic bag, and then cut a hole in the plastic bag, squeezing it into the plastic condiment jar. It made the WORST squishy, farty sound. Ew.

* My Totally 80s Compilation CD. I rocked that thing that summer. I have a picture of BSquared, the EHH, and me jumping around in the EHH’s mother’s kitchen, singing Laura Brannigan’s “Gloria” at the top of our lungs. Disco balls and leotards not included.

* Box of Wine nights.

* Tuesday night Cup Night at Chuck’s. Yeah, they reopened “Hungry Charley’s,” but it’s not the same. It was so dingy and gross and fucking awesome in there with the bad beer and Boone’s farm and “sangria.” It was $2 to refill a Chuck’s cup all night. I still have those cups. There was some sort of Brueggers vs. Chuck’s girls thing going on that summer too. The EHH slept with a guy at Bruegger’s who had a girlfriend with really awful cankles that worked the bar at Chuck’s. Many stink eyes were exchanged.

* Alto Cinco. Dorian’s Pizza. All Night Eggplant. Mother’s Cupboard.

* The house on Westcott Street.

* The night the EHH and I were introduced to the Mulligans...AFTER sharing an entire bottle of Absolut Citron.

* My awful haircut. A grown out buzz cut that I attempted to dye platinum blonde that was more like penny bronze. I also sported cut-off camo shorts and chunky heels. Ew.

The MG calls. All I know is that I had a ton of fun, and that I still talk to some of those folks. BSquared and Phil are married. JT and NN both had babies, a daughter and a son, this summer. Some of the Mulligans are still playing music. And I still make bad haircut choices.

Happy Ten Year Anni, and Happy Birthday BB!

Zack Braff and I Like the Same Music

Okay, am I really that hopelessly conventional? I’ve read the backlash here and here among other places, and I saw the movie. Yes, the women were drawn poorly and the plot was lacking a bit, but after the horrible reviews, I was expecting something hideous. It inspired some interesting conversation, and on a rainy Saturday, that’s really all I’m looking for. And I’m sorry, haters, but the soundtrack is GOOD. Feel free to disagree with me at jm@idontcareifitsovermarketed.com

Sad Songs

One of my favorite bloggers is getting divorced. I don't know why this had such a profound effect on me -- I don't know this person, I've never met her or talked to her -- but I found myself being extremely sad about it on the way home from work last night and crying. Maybe because I've been there, and maybe because there was something so eerily familiar about her post -- it felt like I wrote it, like someone was sitting inside my head. This just pierced me

I wanted my life neatly contained and packaged again because that was what brought me comfort - the notion of the neat and pretty and tidy seemed to heal me.

The very, very sad songs on both The Last Kiss and Grey's Anatomy soundtracks didn't exactly lift my spirits, and I found myself holding back more tears on my usual walk up to Harvard, down to the water, and back down Mass Ave. Things never turn out quite the way you expect. YOU never turn out to be quite who you thought you were. sometimes that's a bad thing, and other times it's a good thing that I'm not half as horrible as my messed up head tells me I am.

I am okay. Everyone's okay. We're all getting better, and I have much to be thankful for. When I reread my recaps of vacation and look at all my pics, I'm so greatful. I've been emailing with an old friend from college, and he wrote something about his wife that also struck me as a wonderful, excellent description of how I feel about YG --- or the "mysterious YG" since some of you are curious about his real identity.

"She is so patient and understanding, puts up with my crap and still thinks I'm the greastest thing ever. As long as she never figures out that she is a better person than I am we should be together for a long time.... ha ha ha! No seriously, it's not a low self esteem thing, she just appreicates me even when I'm not at
my best."

I'm still trying to figure out what my best is. I kind of lost who I was in the marriage, and I'm carrying around the baggage and battle scars to prove it. Sometimes it's hard to remember that I probably judge myself way harsher than anyone else does -- that YG and my friends and my family don't have some checklist that they're holding up and grading me against. There was a burglary in my building this week, and I've been ever more OCD about triple checking locks and windows before I go out -- when I do that, I imagine that YG is silently checking off my boxes on my cons/crazy list, and that the next "bad" thing I do will be the thing that sways JM from "pro" to "con." SERIOUSLY, FOLKS, DO YOU GET HOW INSANE THIS SOUNDS?

It was a rough evening. I continued to listen to sad music, and then watched Grey's Anatomy and cried (lost love, choices) and then ER (sick babies, dead husbands) and then went to bed where I had a dream that I was at a wake and everyone in my family died because I left them and moved away. WTF?

Today's a better day. Today is always a better day. And even if it isn't, it's just today.

Vacation Recap: San Fran Weekend, Part 3

SATURDAY
On Saturday we decided to get out of the city and recreate the “perfect day” YG had when he visited Msquared back in the spring. We rented a car for the weekend that we picked up a few blocks from the hotel. There was some back-and-forth about adding a second person to the rental reservation so I just hung back and read and looked at all of the different maps. Two older ladies riding motorized scooters came in to pick up their car rental, and I had a bit of a giggle imagining them rolling up and down the San Francisco hills in their matching sweat suits with shopping bags.

After the car situation was resolved, we picked up K at her new apartment in Telegraph Hill. She only moved in a few weeks prior, but it was still cozy and cute, with the most gorgeous views of the water. As I’ve blogged before, I’m still having conflicting feelings about my new apartment. I pared down a lot to move from a big condo to an apartment, but I still feel like I have so much STUFF. Seeing K’s great, yet small, apartment – with everything she needed in two small rooms – helped me realize that I can scale down even more. We had a good laugh over the fact that we were wearing essentially the same outfit – black t-shirts and jeans and blue hoodies being so cutting edge and all – and were on our way.

We drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, a thrill in itself for me, and stopped at The Marin Headlands to take in some of the spectacular views and enjoy some of the trail mix that Msquared had packed. He also brought an entire backpack filled with fruit that sadly, none of us ate.

After the stop, we drove over to Stinson Beach. I was in the backseat and getting nauseous and car sick because of the windy roads, but still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I feel like I’m using a lot of “beautiful” and “breathtaking” and “amazing” to describe the scenery, and that’s lame [and I know I need to have a long conversation with myself about why I’m doing this kind of writing as opposed to “real” writing] – but I really don’t know what else to say. It takes a lot to get me to shut up, slow down, and appreciate – but San Francisco and the surroundings were able to do that. It was a very foggy day, and we kept ducking in and out of the clouds, watching this spectacular, rocky beach come into view in the distance.

We took a walk down the beach, chatted and looked at the houses. It must have been warm because there were people in the water, and by the time the walk was over, the four of us had stripped some of our outer layers and were down to jeans, t-shirts and bare feet. We then had a delicious lunch and win at The Sand Dollar which is supposedly Stinson Beach’s longest running restaurant and bar. They had a heated patio and this great little live band, and I enjoyed my fish tacos and club sandwich (with lots and lots of bacon) very much.

YG said that they sat at the same exact table when he was there in the spring, and I was happy to be there this time, and in a much better headspace. When YG was in SF earlier, we had hit a really rough patch. I was still stuck in my horrible job that was a huge mistake and really depressed – wondering whether or not I should be on meds. It was a really bad time for me, and I made it extremely difficult for him. When he went out there, it was like he took a break from all the crazy people in his life demanding things of him – his depressed girlfriend (a.k.a. me), his crazy ex-wife (the EC), and the insane stresses that go along with being “an important person” at work and being a single parent. He came back much more relaxed, healthy and happy. And I got through my shit and dealt with it. Five months later, we were able to take this great trip together. He got to recreate his perfect day – except it was a little more perfect.

After lunch, we drove over to Sausalito, this cute little community on the hillside between the Bay and the Marin Headlands. I knew nothing about Sausalito other than remembering its name from some terrible tween book I read in middle school. I’ve been googling like a fiend, but I still can’t remember what the name of this book was. It was like a ghetto rip off of Sweet Valley High. Basically, the premise was that there were two very pretty, blonde cousins – one who lived in San Francisco, and one who lived in no-name town in the Midwest. Midwest Blonde comes to spend a school year with SF Blonde and is completely overwhelmed by the big city. She meets some guy at an art show in the gym of their school (where if I remember correctly, she was stacking a deck of cards?) and sees her art (i.e. the card stack) and thinks she’s some sort of artiste. Because she’s from the Midwest and completely overwhelmed by the big city, she lies to the guy and pretends like she’s all city fabulous. Complexity ensues. All comes to a head when she’s supposed to go out for a date on his parents’ houseboat in SAUSALITO, and she ends up scratching her eye with her fake Lee press-on nail while getting dressed in her city, artist clothes. She has to come clean, and sends SF cousin to SAUSALITO to explain to rich guy why she can’t join him for dinner. The rest of this mind-numbing plot is a blur to me. I just remember thinking that rich people live on boats in Sausalito.

So, yeah, anyway. ..It was really pretty, with lovely views. And very sunny and warm – quite different than San Francisco. If you looked over at the city, the fog was settling in, and it appeared almost like a picture where somebody just erased the top part. We sat on the water’s edge, drinking hot chocolate and coffee and had a completely ‘not stoned’ conversation about what our “favorite” animals are. MSquared gave me shit about choosing cats because they’re easy and domesticated, and apparently one should not choose domesticated animals as one’s “favorite animal” in these types of conversations. Monkeys, my second choice, also got a big meh. We finally settled on panthers as my favorite animal. For the record, MSquared’s favorite animal is a polar bear. Average age of the four completely sober participants in this conversation: 35.

While in Sausalito, we unfortunately witnessed a sailboat sinking. It was terrible – sitting on the sidelines and watching this guy struggle to try and save his boat. He had help from the Coast Guard, but I’m not sure if he was able to salvage his boat. He was out there for a while, and we watched him being towed in. It was sad imagining how embarrassing it must be to be dragged in before all these spectators like us.

By late afternoon, everyone was exhausted so we headed back to the city and found an excellent parking spot. I drive in cities enough to recognize the value of a truly great (and free) parking spot. I was cranky and whiny and lame (capital L) so I went back to the hotel and took a nap, while YG sat down in the lobby reading and journaling. I joined him about an hour later, and we chatted up this nice couple from Atlanta before changing and heading over to MSquared’s for wine and Jenga.
[Note; I still haven’t bought Jenga, but I’ve made a list for this weekend – it’s on it.]

We had 9:30 dinner reservations at 1550 Hyde
so we headed up there, as I sulked and pouted over my Jenga loss in the cab. That lasted for a few seconds but was immediately lifted once we got into the restaurant. Our table wasn’t ready so we grabbed seats at the bar, and munched on some olives. K and I also tried some Kir Royals (a drink I haven’t had since I visited my brother in Lyon during his semester abroad) and the boys had wine. YG pouted a bit about the table not being ready. I pouted a bit about YG pouting, and Msquared and K were just laid back and happy as they usually are.

All was made well when we sat down for our meal. OMIGOD! I had eggplant bisque for an appetizer that was divine, and a vegetable pasta dish that was cooked to perfection. I also tried a Gewurztraminer that was very tasty, but totally not the right wine for that meal. I’m trying to learn more about wine and what goes with what, but it’s slow learning. I know what I like – sweet wines, and usually stick with that. I’m hoping to branch out a bit more. K had a white burgundy that was delicious. We also had some yummy desserts [that I paid for, my penalty for losing the Jenga game.:-)] and left around midnight and walked back to the hotel, discussing whether or not Msquared should get a scooter. Scoot or die, dude. Scoot or die.

It was a long exhausting day, and I had gotten kind of prickish by the end of the day, but as we were walking back, and I got a look at my lovely boy, I realized how very, very lucky I am.

SUNDAY
Sadly, Sunday was our last day in San Francisco and we had a 10:30 p.m. red eye to catch back to Boston. After days of stalking Mamas from the window and wondering if the food was good enough to warrant waiting on line outside for, we sucked it up and went over. The line was substantial, but the wait wasn’t too bad. We were wedged between a couple that was gushily making out and a gaggle of hozzles, fresh off a bachelorette party, including the bride-to-be – wearing a frickin’ veil. Gag. You may think I’m bitter because I’m getting divorced and all walking the boulevard of broken dreams, but the bachelorette party phenomenon has always made me throw up in my mouth just a little. One look at these hozzes and I knew they had spent the last night doing shots and squealing that girl squeak, and thinking it was just hilarious to carry around their dick-shaped lollipops and “suck for a buck” t-shirts. Ew. Plus, there were about 90 of them and I knew that, in due time, someone wearing Juicy “couture” terry cloth sweat pants and oversized sunglasses was going to show up….and I’d just go postal.

Again, though, I was rescued by the food. The story of my life, folks. It was so good. I really didn’t even know where to start – I wanted everything. You wait on line outside, and then they let you in, where you wait on line inside, place your order and then wait for a table. I decided on a mimosa and lemon raspberry French Toast made with freshly baked bread, covered in syrup and fresh fruit. YG had either the cinnamon-swirl or something with apples in it – I forget. And to add to our carb-fest, we split a piece of coffee cake. It was unreal. So good, so filling. Well worth the wait.

After breakfast, we checked out of our room (So, so sad – bye bye stalking window) and left our bags in the lobby before heading up the The Haight. The cab ride was insane, and we kept flying up and down hills and whipping through streets. I’m not sure what I was expecting from The Haight, but I was sort of surprised. It’s been over 30 years since the Summer of Love, but I was still expecting to see hippies hanging out everywhere and lots of incense and tie dye and “peace, man”. There was plenty of that stuff, but also some shops that sold True Religion jeans and John Fluevogs – not really “hippie” in my mind. We found a cute kids shop and bought the MG a bag, a patterned change purse and a purple flower ring – stuff you know she’d get a kick out of.

Then we headed over to Golden Gate Park. The next time I visit, I hope to spend more time here. It’s really pretty, and from the map, enormous. There was an opera starting so we sat down for a few minutes, but after realizing we’d have to wait a while for it to start, we headed back to the Haight again.

And there I had my second San Francisco religious experience – Amoeba Music -- the largest indie record store in the country. I could have spent all day in there – I was in total “kid in candy shop” mode. I didn’t even make it into the new music section, spending all my time rifling through tons of used CDS. Everything was so cheap so I picked up a number of things I wanted a while back, but never got around to getting: an old Sleater Kinney, Moveon.org’s compilation CD, a Waifs CD, and the Jose Gonzalez album I didn’t have. So, so awesome.

We headed back to North Beach to pick up our bags and use the bathroom, and I chatted with the very pregnant hostess at the hotel. We then rescued the car from its very good spot and drove back to The Golden Gate Bridge. We parked the car, and decided to walk over on foot. It was absolutely freezing, but so worth it. The color of the bridge is just as interesting up close as it is in photos, and it doesn’t even feel like you’re on a bridge – more like a giant highway in the sky [how ridiculous is THAT description?]. The fog is so strange, though – when we started on the SF side and made our way through the throng of tourists, we couldn’t even see the top of the tower on the other side. Making our way across, I took a bunch of pictures and we spotted a couple of interesting things including a sea lion or dolphin hanging out in the bay and a European tourist who stopped about every five feet to take a picture of himself against the backdrop of the bridge. It was bizarre! On the other side, it was much sunnier and on our way back, we saw one of those giant cargo container ships going by and a lot of Blazing Saddles riders. I REALLY want to do the bike path next time I’m in San Francisco – bike over the bridge to Sausalito or Tiburon, and then take the ferry back. It looks amazing. YG and I commented, though, on how it seems like a pretty long ride and most of the riders we saw didn’t seem to be experienced riders. 17 miles in jeans and flip flops seems like it would suck, but that said, I promise the residents of Northern California that I will not subject you to the spectacle that is JM in bike pants should I ever visit again, and get to do some biking.

After getting back to the car, we started negotiating what we should do with the rest of our day before heading to the airport. We decided on Alamo Park because I was interested in seeing the Seven Sisters and getting a glimpse of that famous view of the city and its pretty Victorian houses.

We found a parking spot right away, and it really is a lovely neighborhood. Sadly, I did not meet DJ or Stephanie Tanner in the park, and Uncle Jesse was nowhere to be found, but it was worth the trip. We only spent a few minutes before getting back in the car, with YG driving and me navigating with the map.

We headed back toward the waterfront and decided to get a drink at YG’s favorite bar in San Francisco. Of course, the name of said bar and restaurant is eluding both of us right now, but it’s down near Fisherman’s Wharf and has beautiful second floor views of Alcatraz and the Bay Bridge and is loaded with black and white photos of movie stars, tons of them. I think it has an Italian name, and I keep Googling all of those search phrases, but can’t find it. I had glasses of a yummy Sauvignon Blanc, and then we ordered some prosciutto, mozzarella, and olives and chatted and enjoyed the view until it was time to leave.

We drove back to North Beach and picked up Msquared who was driving us back to the airport and returning the car. We got through security, walked around the airport some more, and I bought new blotting papers at Body Shop and read the newest craptastic magazines and saw the pictures (finally) of the mysterious Suri. We had another drink at an airport bar, I got nervous and clingy and blubbery (because it wouldn’t be a JM vacation without one nervous breakdown), and then got off the plane, sleeping most of the way.

Arrived back in one piece around 7:30 a.m. ET, cabbed back to Cambridge, napped for a few hours and then enjoyed one last fun lunch together before returning to the real world. Sigh. I miss it.

Vacation Recap Part 2: San Francisco

YG and I arrived at the airport for an 8:30 flight with enough time for coffee and reading. The flight was rather uneventful, so I listened to some music and started Empire Falls (an awesome read, highly recommended). We also watched Poseidon – a movie so horribly bad that it was hilarious. You know your movie sucks when people laugh when the lead characters die.

WEDNESDAY

When the flight landed, I flipped on my cell phone to discover that I had 4 missed calls and 3 messages. Huh? Readers, I am not a phone person. I hate talking on the phone and only call people when I need to ask them something or I really, really miss them. Even as a teenager, I was not so into the phone. So…I don’t get a lot of calls except for work-related stuff, and the occasional check-in with family and friends. Four calls on my mobile in 6 hours was just off. They were all related to the impending home sale. The buyers wanted to move the closing up a week, and my lawyer didn’t know I was on vacation and needed me to sign and notarize a bunch of documents. HUGE pain in the ass. I immediately got in a foul mood, and moved quickly into “I hate myself for being in a foul mood on vacation” mode. YG reminded me that I didn’t have to agree to moving the sale up, so I didn’t – crisis averted.

MSquared picked us up at the airport, and we drove back to his neighborhood, North Beach, and dropped our bags off at the hotel. He took us out for some great pizza, and then YG and I explored the neighborhood. City Lights Bookstore was the high point – I’ve been wanting to visit for ages. Yeah, it’s a bookstore, but if you love to read and if you thought The Dharma Bums and all that other Beat writing was the shit, you want to visit “just a bookstore.” We had some coffee at Café Trieste and then walked up to The Coit Tower -- it was a perfect day and the views were amazing. I’ve never been in a city more beautiful than San Fran. Paris is gorgeous because of the amazing architecture, but the natural landscape in California is breathtaking.

We went back to the hotel and had some champagne and did some people stalking. If you look at The Washington Square Inn website, there’s a fabulous picture of a room with bay windows and a great view of the park. THAT was our room! Amazing. I spent more time than I can recount, staring out the window, people watching and scribbling away in my journal. I thought I’d post some of that stuff here, but it’s a lot of “so happy” and “so great” and ideas for short stories and just details. We then had evening hors d'oeuvres and wine in the lobby, before meeting Msquared and his girlfriend K for dinner.

I was a tad nervous about meeting K because I had heard so much about her, and YG had such a crush on her, it’s hard not to get into “step off, bitch. That’s my man” mode. She also supposedly was very cheery and laid back, and allegedly knew all kinds of stuff about man things like cars and guns (i.e. things YG knows about, but JM does not) – and is a Red Sox fan from New England. Because I’m immature and apparently still in high school and could keep any number of therapists in business for years, I was feeling: K being cheery and fun and great = JM being fat, dumpy troll who is boring, negative AND high maintenance. So I approached dinner with a bit of trepidation.

And that was so dumb! K was awesome – really nice and engaging, and she’s involved in a lot of interesting projects at work that were cool to hear about. I *love* meeting people who are good at conversation and just relaxing to be around. And I like hearing how people find ways to mix their corporate and philanthropic lives.

We had the yummiest dinner at The Slanted Door. While the whole meal was pretty much the best Vietnamese food I’ve ever had, the ribs were a religious experience. I was reluctant to eat ribs while I was all gussied up in my pretty dress, but I ended up inhaling them and slurping the rib sauce off my fingers. It was that good. If you’re in San Francisco, go to this restaurant! It’s a must.

After dinner, the four of us walked back to North Beach. I’d like to personally thank Kenneth Cole for designing high heels that are easy to walk in. Four-inch heels are never easy. Four-inch heels while buzzed and walking up one of San Francisco’s famous hills is daunting. My boy, Kenneth, doesn’t fail, though.

THURSDAY
Thursday morning began with more people stalking at “our” window, and enjoying the hotel’s yummy breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. We then walked down to Fisherman’s Wharf and checked out a bunch of the silly, touristy places and bought postcards. We also saw the massive USS Pampanito, and the ridiculous sea lions flopping around on the water docks. They’re so fat and funny and there’s so many of them.

We took the ferry to Alcatraz and did the audio tour. The views are amazing, and the history is impressive. It’s this massive building, and you hear the wind howling through it, but then you look out the window and see gorgeous San Francisco – it must have been psychological torture for the inmates. I listened to all of their stories, but the one that broke me was an inmate describing New Year’s Eve on Alcatraz. It was cold and they could hear the singing and festivities going on at the Yacht Club. Heartbreaking stuff.

Post-lunch, we picked up salads at the Ferry Building and ate outside and then had some wine at a nearby wine bar. The tasting flights were great – I tried a lot of stuff I normally wouldn’t be interested in. Then back to Café Trieste for more coffee and a long, relaxing lounge in Washington Square. It’s a strange little park – every morning, we’d see all the locals doing their tai-chi. It’s very disorienting to wake up in the morning, look out the window and see hundreds of people holding their hands over the ears. There were lots of folks lounging in the sun with their dogs, and you get to see the beautiful St.Peter and Paul Church. There’s that famous picture of Joe Dimaggio and Marilyn Monroe taken outside of it. They couldn’t get married inside because she was divorced, and Catholics don’t go for that sort of thing (once my divorce is final, I think I get to officially be a whore. Woo hoo!) MSquared joined us so I had time to journal while he and YG chatted and discussed work and their various business ideas.

For dinner we met my friend, M, in The Mission. I met M in New York a couple of years ago through a website when we were both planning our weddings. She’s lots of fun, really smart and great to talk to. We had some yummy tapas and then went to see her husband’s band play. I hope they don’t mind, but I’m going to publicize these guys and tell you to GO SEE THEM! The music was great, the band was really tight, and I had a thoroughly enjoyable time.

FRIDAY
Friday was a YG/JM special. Again, people stalking and reading and oatmeal in the morning. Then we walked downtown to Banana Republic's flagship store, recommended by K, where we bought some stuff that you can't find in the BRs in the mall. Tooled around a bit, and then did our touristy fun thing of the day -- taking a cable car. Recommended way to get around the city? No. Cheesey, fun thing to do and experience? Yes.

We got off at Lombard Street and walked down and took pictures. It really is crooked. And it really is a trip. We then walked over to the Marina District and I got my first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge, not covered in fog. Beautiful. Some lunch and window browsing on Chestnut Street and then we walked back to the hotel -- I think we walked about 4 miles day, my second pair of Kenneth Coles serving me well.

That night, we went to a baseball game at AT&T Park. We knew it was going to be freezing, so I stopped in this little hat shop next to the hotel and bought a winter hat. We met this girl in there who was from Massachusetts and familiar with the way-out suburbs where YG lives. We chatted her up for a bit, and when we left she gave us an honest-to-god "peace" and held her fingers up in the peace sign. Welcome to San Fran. :-)

The game itself was great. We took a cab there because of all the walking and had great seats. I got to see Barry Bonds hit (no homers) and make fun of that little bitch, Mike Piazza, who now plays for the Padres. YG also got booed for wearing a Red Sox cap, and when he said "my life is tough. This [said while pointing to my Yankee sweathsirt] is my girlfriend." The guys responded with "the Yankees are the greatest sports team in history." Hee. Nuff said.

It was cold, and since SF was winning, we left early and took a cab back to North Beach where we had pizza and wine at one of the little Italian places on the strip of streets home. Then we went to Enrico's , had a couple of drinks and chatted up some drunk folks who happily accepted the Giants bobblehead doll that was a free giveawy that I didn't feel like dragging around anymore. AFter that, we checked out another bar that a little too "investment bankers and the women who date them" for me, and then turned in for the night.

An awesome day and night with my awesome boyfriend.

Next installment: why San Francisco is beautiful, but San Francisco beyond is even more so

Vacation and then Some: Recap Part 1

A couple of my loyal readers (all five of you) asked how the vacation went, and I do not want to disappoint the adoring public. Also, remember that promise I made to try and keep writing more? Yeah.

Labor Day Weekend
I made plans to go to Long Island for Labor Day weekend to spend my birthday with my family. I’ve done this every year, with the exception of the college years, so no surprises. I worked at home on Friday because I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to get to the airport. The subway was a bit of an adventure, given that everybody else in the greater Boston area was also trying to leave the city for the weekend. I could write a whole post about my idea of proper subway etiquette, but that’s boring. I will say, though, that it sucks when you’re stuffed between “I don’t care if talking on my cell phone really loudly is obnoxious” guy and “oh, is the fact that I keep banging into you with my Coach bag filled with 500lb bowling balls annoying?” lady. Add in “hey, ladies” fratty and “Jesus lives. Everybody hates gay people” crazy, and well, you get the picture. The highlight, though, was these two really crazy and funny Jamaican guys telling really bad jokes right out of “The Truly Tasteless Jokes” catalog. They had most of people on the bus we had to get on post-train giggling and laughing, with the exception of that lady you find on every form of public transportation wearing an ill-fitting sweater and sensible shoes. She did a lot of clucking and eye rolling. When the Jamaican guys got off at their terminal, one shouted out “Thank you to all the beautiful ladies on the bus who have been very nice to look at!” Awesome.

My flight was at 6:50, so I got to the airport at 4:30 because of all the security shit going on at the time. I left my very dangerous deodorant and saline solutions in my checked bag, and brought my wallet, journal, iPod and one book through security – which took all of 15 minutes. Then I found out my flight was delayed an hour because of Hurricane Ernesto. Ughh…I caught up on my important reading (US Weekly, Star, InTouch, Life&Style, and Marie Claire) and bought a copy of The Economist to give the appearance of not being a trashy, celebrity whore (it’s still unread). I also enjoyed the best pizza and beer Logan Airport has to offer.

The flight itself was quite the adventure. I HATE flying and usually try to Xanax myself out, but Boston to New York is only 50 minutes. No point in wasting good drugs – although this was a point I might have wanted to reconsider, considering we were flying directly into a “tropical storm.” The captain warned us that the take off and landing would be “bumpy,” but expected that “the middle” (what, 15 minutes?) would be okay. The middle was not okay. After a hairy take off, he got back on the PA and told us that it was going to be “crappy” the whole trip. To punctuate that point, we bumped and bucked so badly that all my water and books ended up on the floor. Thank God for JetBlue’s Mapquest screens – because it was a short flight, I was able to track how fast we were moving and was able to determine that if I was going to die, it would at least be within 20 minutes or so. I also said every single prayer I could remember from studying for Confirmation class – thankfully, God has a sense of humor and isn’t all “Step off, bitch. I ain’t listening to you now.” I would have been okay, except for Insane Bitch in Row Crazy. She screamed and sobbed at the top of her lungs the whole time we were bouncing around. Classics like “we’re all going to die” and “God help me” and “Somebody get me off of this plane. GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING PLANE!” It was horrible, and I came about as close to puking on a plane as I ever have. Bitch also had the nerve to ream out the JetBlue people for “not helping” and “not responding” when she needed it.

But I survived in one piece. Long Island was Long Island. It’s weird to see so many changes to the house – which NEVER changed when I was a kid. There’s new furniture, and a big new fancy window, and an outdoor fireplace. Some classics still exist, though, like having to open the bathroom door and shout out “can I flush?” as loud as you can. Someone doing dishes + someone flushing toilet = poop on the rug.

Given the hurricane, it was a pretty crappy “beach” weekend. It was still really wet on Saturday morning, but not pouring. My brother went out running, so I decided to do the same. It was so windy that I had to hold on to my glasses and the bridge railing when I ran over to the beach. The beach was ferocious – the waves were insane and the water was running up to the boardwalk. I was there for about 3 minutes before it started pouring – making the run/walk back pretty sucky. Thank jebus for my iPod and James Brown chanting “Get Up Offa That Thing.”

Family barbeque on Saturday afternoon at the cousins’ and lots of t.v. watching, including the first couple episodes of Six Feet Under and Anchorman for about the 60th time. I don’t care how immature it is – “San Diego: it’s German for a whale’s vagina” is ALWAYS funny to me. Sunday was another crappy day so we went outlet shopping. Loaded up on JCrew cashmere t-shirts because I’m all upscale now, and was upset that BCBG didn’t have any more of those wrap sweater/swingy things that all the kids are wearing. I had my family birthday party on Sunday night and scored some good loot: a B&N gift card from my brother, a wrap from my sister, and new luggage from my aunt and uncle. My parents gave me something I’ve been asking for for ages – they reupholstered this great old chair I have. It looks fabulous! We also had my favorite – Carvel ice cream cake, preceded by about 60lbs of ravioli and meatballs, and “sides” of mozzarella and tomato and dried sausage.

It was sunny on Monday so I finally got my beach day! I continued to read crappy magazines and eat French fries – perfect. I had a 6 p.m. flight from JFK, but told my parents that it was 5 since their idea of “on time” is quite different from mine. To me, “on time” means I get to the airport, I get through security, I have a drink, I read a magazine and then I get on the plane. Their idea of “on time” means getting to the airport at precisely the time they are screeching out “final boarding call” over the PA. My dad dropped me off at 4:25 for my 5 p.m. flight, so I’m glad I lied.

Back to Massachusetts

Flight back was uneventful, but on my cab ride, I got to listen to some conservative talk show hosts that made me so mad, I actually asked the cab driver to turn it off. The person in question (I WISH I could remember his name so I could flame him publicly) was discussing some recent study that said that a large number of heterosexual men are not using condoms. Instead of wondering why the fuck that is, this guy praised those men and said that he, and none of his friends either, used condoms because – this isn’t a direct quote, but you get the point – “We haven’t fall prey to the liberal media myth that we’ll get AIDS without using condoms. AIDS is still a homosexual disease, and I praise those young men that aren’t bowing down to the homosexual agenda.” Seriously, folks. On the radio. I was floored. Especially when he pointed out that none of his friends were monogamous either. This idiocy just makes me want to scream.

At home, I discovered the first of my presents from YG and the MG. YG, a proud member of Red Sox Nation, bought me a nice new Yankees sweatshirt AND he cleaned my car from top to bottom. If any of you have ever taken a ride in my car, you know that keeping it clean is not something I do well. In my world, backseat = garbage can. I had amassed so much junk – everything from old magazines to a graveyard of Diet Coke cans to a program from my brother’s college graduation years ago. And the trunk was worse. The two of them cleaned the whole thing out, vacuumed, scrubbed, purged and then arranged all the stuff that was salvageable in a neat, storage box for the trunk. They even bought me this crazy thing I had never even thought of: a garbage can.

Birthday
Tuesday was my actual birthday. I woke up feeling no different at 30 than I did the day before. I consider this a good thing. I worked from home and ran errands and treated myself to a Bruegger’s Bagel Leonardo Da Veggie sandwich. It sounds so lame that this was my big birthday treat, but I’ve been craving one of those things since I worked at BB 8 years ago.

YG came over and FINALLY told me where we were going: SAN FRANCISCO, with four nights at this fabulous place! Not only did he plan this whole thing and manage to keep it a secret for months, but he also wrote up a detailed [and bulleted] itinerary. Excuse me a minute while I gush – is he not the best boyfriend in the entire universe? The trip itself – incredible. The fact that the boy knows me so well that he knew I’d get all hot and bothered over a bulleted checklist – priceless.

We dropped off my keys at SKB’s because she was gracious enough to feed my cats while I was away, and went to dinner at Christopher’s. SKB was gracious enough to feed my cats while I was away, AND helped YG get some of the info he needed to plan one of the items on the itinerary. She also told YG he was the BBFE (Best Boyfriend Ever!) so she’s top notch in our book!

The next installment: San Francisco. Who knew that my ho-hum life could take so long to regurgitate?

Linky link

I've been a long time reader of Tomato Nation, and was catching up today.

A good one: http://www.tomatonation.com/amertune.shtml
I'm not homesick, but this bit did make me tear up a bit:

"I had that album on for whatever reason, needing something familiar, and of course I had to listen to "America" a few dozen times -- even though the cheesy keyboard on the live version always drives me nuts -- because the crowd greets the "counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike" line with a happy roar. Every time I hear that line, wherever I am, I smile, because the Turnpike is a thing that belongs to me, the banks of reeds, the big blue steel dinosaurs in Kearny, the rest stops named for poets. It's mine because it's home and it's home because it's mine. "

And this one: http://www.tomatonation.com/dork.shtml
Because of my recent games fascination, and props for mentioning Max Fisher.

"I feel like women are sort of encouraged by society to talk about what dorks they were in school, and how, if we got straight As, we had to pay for it with no dates, and that it's especially important for women to kind of mediate our dorkiness so we don't come off as "too intense" or "threatening" or whatever it is that makes a smart girl theoretically less hot."

Other good reads:
Blurbomat on Steve Irwin's death

And the original article it links to on Daddytypes

Off to New York for the weekend. The magic number is SIX.

My Friend, The Bachelor

Another giggle fit.

-----Original Message-----
From: LinkedIn
Sent: Wednesday, September 13, 2006 5:37 PM
To: XXXX
Subject: ABC TV searching on LinkedIn to find Professional Bachelor

Dear XXXX,

ABC Television's hit reality television show, The Bachelor, is searching for its next star. After viewing your profile on LinkedIn, the casting producer has selected you as a potential candidate.

ABC is using LinkedIn to find its next Bachelor because this time around, they're looking for an accomplished professional. LinkedIn is about your professional life instead of your personal life, so we don't know if your marital or relationship status qualifies you for the show. However, your professional profile fits the bill.

If you think you'd make a great "Bachelor," please let me know by reply XXXX and I will contact you regarding next steps. LinkedIn respects your privacy and will not release your contact information, so you must reply to the email above for us to pass you along as a candidate.

If you know anyone else that would make a great "Bachelor", feel free to let us know about them - ABC will pay a $5,000 reward for any referral that leads to the next star.

Wishing you continued professional success,

XXXXX
LinkedIn

***************************************************************************

My suggested response:

-----Original Message-----
From: JM
Sent: Wednesday, September 13, 2006 5:51 PM
To: YG
Subject: RE: ABC TV searching on LinkedIn to find Professional Bachelor
Importance: High

Dear XXXX–

Thank you for passing along the request from ABC TV. While I certainly believe that my professional accomplishments and relationship status as a recent divorcee make me an excellent candidate for The Bachelor, I will need to decline ABC’s offer because I find myself already saddled down with a big ol’ hozz. Having twenty certifiably insane women “compete” over me certainly does have its appeal [especially the sluts – I love sluts], but my ol’ hozz is about as much of a pain in the ass as those twenty women combined so I think I’m going to have to stick with her for now.

Regards,

YG

On Better Moods and Games

I am officially out of the real estate market. My house was sold yesterday, and with the exception of a few leftover things, my official and legal ties to New Jersey are over. It's amazing how much better I feel. As soon as we got to the airport, that feeling of dread was starting to come back to me and I was anxious about coming back and having to deal with the closing, the divorce, the uncertainty around my job, etc. When I get anxious, I do two things. 1 -- get really clingy and protective of anything that seems vaguely secure to me. And 2 -- start planning and plotting with Excel spreadsheets and lists and timelines every next possible "life step" I need to take. And well....yeah. That works out.

With just this one thing changing -- the house closing and me having some sort of financial stability -- I'm in a much better mood. I'll figure out the money, I should be able to keep my job or at least lobby for a job in the new company, the divorce is almost final, AND I have some great shit going on. I love Cambridge. I love spending time with my new friends. I'm writing again, and I'm going to start taking some classes. Instead of plotting and planning what's next, I've got some time to just ...be.

Other good things:
* Kids Games -- OHMAGOD, I am the Uno afficionado right now. Do you remember Uno? Uno rocks. Wild Card double rocks. Wild Card Draw 4 (in Mass speak) wicked rocks.

SanFran was also my reintroduction to Jenga. Remember those commercials? JENGA! JENGA! We played two rounds at YG's friend's house last weekend. MSquared is apparently quite the Jenga master, but I, who used to be fucking awesome at Jenga, was prepared to take him on. My entry into a new, older and wiser decade did nothing, though, to tone down my competitive streak. Of course, when I get all riled up and ready to kick bitches' asses, I usually suck....and I sucked. I was concentrating so hard and holding my breath that I actually DROOLED on the game. Drooled -- and not the little bit kind, the big slurpy, goopy kind!

I was the first to lose, and was a sore loser about it too. I suppose it would be good to acknowledge how lame and assy that is (to be a sore loser about JENGA), but I offer up the following logical reasons for my loss:

1. Lack of sleep. It was a long day. We all took naps. It took me a while to wake up. I must have been still blurry, and therefore not on top of my game.
2. Wine.
3. Good wine that went down fast.
4. This one courtesy of YG, the math and science whiz: The drool mixed with some kind of chemical on the new coffee table, which when combined formed an unstable element that was disruptive to the stability of the Jenga's pieces.
5. I was distracted by the awesomeness of MSquared's girlfriend's boobs. Seriously, this is the kind of rack you dream of having when working your 12-year-old self's "I must increase my bust" exercises. She was the player of record sitting across from me -- I'm just saying, I could have been distracted.
6. I'm 30 now so my Jenga-playing fingers are no longer as nimble as they used to be.
7. I was distracted thinking about the much-hyped-about food we were getting for dinner post-game. Since it lived up to the hype, it could have made a difference.

All of these are very real possibilities. I'm just sayin'. It's not like I'm going to go out and buy my own Jenga game and practice or anything...:-)

* My first press release went out today with the new company. Woo hoo!

* We're taking the MG to New York this weekend to see a Yankees/Boston game. That's going to be fun. My brother is going to join us. The MG is fascinated by the idea of meeting anyone related to me -- I don't know why that makes me laugh so much, but it does. She's also excited to "see New Jersey."
More praise for the MG -- I hadn't seen her in a while and last night we played games and she gave me the birthday present she picked out all by herself -- a calendar with funny cats on it, and a card with a picture of me with my cats. Not that I'd ever do it, but this stuff kind of makes me understand why you see so many ladies out there wearing those kid-made macaroni necklaces.

Not so hot stuff:

* Today is my 4th wedding anniversary. With the divorce almost final, I'm in a pretty good space and I hope T is enjoying his vacation in Ireland. Still, anniversaries and reminders are just kind of...meh.

* The 9/11 anniversary. I can't believe it's been 5 years. I keep starting to write about how I feel about that, but then I stop. I've also started writing a couple of times about the 9/11 "speech" from Chief Asshat, but it makes me so angry that I need to stop. I do understand that the president is severely mentally disabled so I refrain from using this space to complain about him, because, really, what's the point? Still, I was hoping that at least one of his political "strategists" would advise him to have the good sense to not use the 9/11 anniversary as another chance to roll out a public relations campaign about their unjust, bloody and stupid war. It's shameful, and makes me angry, sick, heartbroken...and hopefully motivated enough to do something that can make a change.

San Francisco Is All It's Cracked Up To Be

Just back from my big mystery trip. As I suspected, we did get to San Francisco and it was just as beautiful as everyone says it is. We did some touristy stuff, but mainly it was relaxing and hanging around with good food, good wine, good conversations, etc. I have a lot of "notes" I took and more pictures, but right now I'm still so jet lagged and just vacation hung over that I don't want to do it right this second.

Overall, I think it's going to be a good decade. I look back at what I've accomplished both professionally and emotionally so far, and I like what I see. But I know there's still so much work to be done. I know what I want. I know who I want to be, and I can accept the disappointments too. I've said some incredibly stupid things too about what I want, and while I wish I could take all of them back and just start over, start new and pretend I never said them or acknowledged them, it's all out there. Maybe this will be the decade of "Looking Like A Fool Is Not Such A Bad Thing." I hate looking like a fool. I hate feeling like I'm always saying the wrong thing or saying too much. Maybe that mantra "it's not my business what other people think of me" will finally start to sink in. But I do care what some people think of me. And I hate taking risks to see them not pay off...risk taking is just so not me -- I prefer planning and order and neatness -- and I guess I have these (ooooh...bad word coming) expectations that when I take a risk, I won't be free falling. OR I won't be so rattled by the free fall. I'm hoping this stuff will change too as I "grow up." So far, my big risk of moving up here and starting over has paid off ENORMOUSLY. I hope to see more of that kind of reward in my future.

Anyway, thank you, YG, for the best birthday present ever! It was an absolute blast and I can't wait to get all the pictures back. :-)

Happy Birthday To Me!

The big 3-0!

I spent the weekend doing some rockin', crazy 20s shit like....hanging out with my family, watching t.v. and doing BBQs with the extended family. That was some crazy shit, yo!

I have much more to say about how I don't have much to say about turning 30, but my schedule is insane right now. I just got back from Long Island and now I'm off to my mystery location until the 11th. Woo hoo!

My Inner Monologue Is So Predictable

I cleaned out the condo in Wharton this weekend. I packed up all my stuff and had a junk guy take away all the garbage. Even though I never loved the place that much and even though it wasn't my dream home and even though the location sucked, it was still MY home. I did the last walk around and remembered all the work we had put into the place and how we changed it and what we wanted to do with it moving forward. I didn't remember the bad stuff -- just how "promising" things looked when we got there. How I was doing things that "normal" people do -- going to college, going to grad school, getting married, buying a house, planning for kids. And while I'm not unhappy to be where I am, there's a certain grief involved in letting go of how things were "supposed to be" and shutting the door, literally, on it.

It was harder than expected, and as expected, my inner monolgue is being dictated by the Shitty Committee in my head. So I've spent the last couple of days being convinced that nobody likes me, that I mess everything up, that I'm too [insert crappy adjective like fat, unlovable, unlikable, ugly, etc] to do anything right, that everyone is talking about me, that my parents and my boyfriend wish I could be more [insert positive adjective], blah, blah, blah. This, of course, manifests itself in desperate, morbid and pathetically sad pleas for reassurances that I am the BEST GIRLFRIEND/FRIEND/CHILD/COWORKER EVER. And OH MY GOD, HOW FUCKING BORING. You know you're in bad shape when even you are bored by your bullshit. Thank you to the people that listen to this every time it occurs -- the fact that yous don't pummel me with blunt objects says something about what good friends I have.
And also why the whole internal conversation is absurd to begin with.
Sigh.

Other things I've been feeling bad about: work. I did a three-day training session last week, have another training session this week, and then I'm off for vacation and back to NJ for the closing (which I think I can get out of). I'm so behind and so scattered, and it's a new job so I would really like to just wow everyone with my brilliance. I know people are allowed their vacations, but I just hate having to say no to good projects right now. :-(

Things I'm actually feeling good about:

* shoe shopping. I walk everywhere these days, and find it hard to walk for miles with the skinny heels. The "pictaresque" cobblestones also make that difficult. So I "needed" new shoes. There's a place called Comfort Shoes here in Cambridge that I stopped by, but it was....not good. I would like to be comfortable and not break an ankle, but clogs? Chunky heels? Um, no. Thankfully, Zappos exists. In my next life, I am going to invent Zappos. I am now the proud owner of these and these. Not my usual, but at least a more stylish option that a Birkenstock. Ick.

* My birthday and vacation. I am heading to Long Island this weekend for my birthday. I'm flying in and hope to do a whole lot of nothing; nothing including the beach, the movies and outlet shopping. I fly home Monday night, and then work at home Tuesday before leaving for vacation on Wednesday morning. I still don't know where we're going, but I'm guessing that it is either San Francisco or Seattle. I'm fine with either, but am secretly hoping for SF because I have friends there and YG loves it.

* Money. Or more importantly, spending. I am still way in the hole, but I'm on a budget that seems to be working for me, and I'm not spending a ton of money on crap.
The shoes were the first fun things I bought for myself in over a month, and I don't feel deprived.

* Again, Flavor of Love. Yes, again, really. Watch it!

I guess that's it for now. I always feel like I need to *end* these things. Jerry's Thoughts or something like it.

Who Is My Favorite on Project Runway?

Note: Spoiler alert.

And because I'm procrastinating.

Michael is the rock star here. Even if his clothes weren't awesome, he actually used the phrase "Captain Save-a-Ho." I LOVE him. Uli is lovely. I can't decide if Laura is awful or fabulous. I lean towards awful, but then I sway. I hope I look that great at 42 AND after 5 kids. They might be the final three.

Things I'm amazed by:
* I can't believe they broke up the Totally Not Ambiguously Gay Duo. I'll miss Robert. He was my boyfriend with his "You Look Hotter Online" t-shirt. Kayne is wonderful, but I'm expecting him to have some sort of glitter and rhinestone explosion soon that won't be pretty.
As opposed to all those glitter/rhinestone creations that are pretty.
* Fucking Jumbles Jubilee and Vincent are still there. I loathe her and her hideous bubble skirt.
* Oh Jeffrey. Words cannot express the full extent of your suckage. If I were still 17 and wearing my goth lipstick and buying Dead Kennedys cds at Alwick Records at the Livingston Mall and you were the guy working the counter at Alwick Records with tattoos and a mohawk, I *might* think you were cool. But I still have enough faith in my 17-year-old lame ass self to think that I'd probably know that you were a tool and would just laugh at your too-cool-for-school persona. Problem is, dude, you're not 17. You're about 40 and still acting like the fucking world owes you a favor and ranting and raving about "the man" and "conformity." Basically, you're an asshole and everyone knows it, and while your clothes might have a point of view, per the judges' take, they're still ugly. AND if you ever made my mom cry on national television, I'd beat your ugly face in with my sewing machine. But knowing my mom, she'd beat me to it.
* Oh, and don't even pull the recovering alcoholic/junkie card. I know a ton of recovery folks. I've been to their meetings. They don't suck as much as you.

Bitchy McBitch

All I want to do is whine.
And eat ice cream.
And watch Project Runway.

Without:
Appearing to be a pessimistic whiner.
Getting fat.
Being disppointed in the dumb producers' choices.

Boston Attraction: The Longfellow Bridge

Last Wednesday after work, I decided to skip my regular walk around Cambridge and walk down by the water. Since I've come to Mass, I go to work and then I usually ride my bike or go walking after work to keep up with my exercise. But the days are getting shorter now, and I fear I only have a month or so left of outdoor exercising. I hate walking alone in the dark, and there's just no way I'm getting up early to ride or walk before work. So I'm trying to "explore" what I can now.

The Longfellow Bridge, also known to locals (per Wikipedia) as the Salt and Pepper Bridge, takes the Red Line, my line, over the Charles into Boston. Blogger is being tempermental today and not letting me post pictures, but it really is pretty amazing to come up out of the tunnel and see the city there ahead of you. I wonder if I'll be so enamored after I live here a while, or in the middle of winter when it's 20 below, but for now, I was excited and happily chattering with people and snapping pictures.

For the locals, it's just a commute. I think of all the things in New York City that I never notice and wonder what it's like to be a true tourist there. I'll always be an outsider in NYC, from New Jersey [pronounced with much disdain], but still, most of my comings and goings in New York are centered around meeting people for drinks or dinner or going shopping. I just go. I don't really notice. Because Boston is brand, shiny new for me, I get the added bonus of noticing.

On Wednesday, I took the Red Line to Charles/MGH and just did few laps across the bridge. The sun was setting so it was prime photo-op time with the Charles and the Pru Tower looking red and coppery. There were still a lot of sailboats out on the water and tons of runners. Whenever I see people running, I'm struck by the urge to run, to join them, but all of my attempts at running, thus far, have failed. Since 2000, one of my New Year's Resolutions has been to run a half-marathon before the next year. Number of half marathons run since 2000: 0. Number of 10Ks: 0. Number of 5Ks: 0. Maybe this year. :-)

I did a couple of passes and then hopped back on the train. It was dark, but I got off at Harvard anyway and walked the back roads home. This is usually my best thinking time. Sometimes I listen to my iPod, but most of the time, I just walk, and try and make sense of some of the ideas for writing in my heads. It's at these times that I think that I have something to say and where I'm witty and brilliant and ready to write a novel. But then I get back home and a few days pass and I'm sitting in front of the screen thinking, incredulously, "what was THAT THOUGHT I had?". I know it couldn't have been "The Longfellow Bridge is a bridge in Boston. It is big. It is long..." One of my writing "bibles" -- Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones -- tells me to keep with it. I have a bookcase filled with journals that I've filled. There has to be some kernel of brilliance somewhere in there. For now, I'm just keeping with it. Brilliance coming. Stay tuned.

Right now, though, it's time for Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs with the MG, which is in itself, kind of brilliant.

Beware the Cell Phone Camera

When it was time to upgrade my last cell phone, the nice people at Verizon told me that I had a free upgrade to a camera phone. I did not want the camera phone. I did not want an Internet phone. I would like a phone that makes phone calls. Sadly, these do not exist anymore. Or if they do, the lovely people at Verizon give you the stink eye for even requesting such a thing so you feel lame and just get the camera phone.

I LOVE the camera phone. It's my new best friend.

Behold Boston. The picture doesn't do it much justice, but it was a beautiful, blue summer day last Saturday and I snapped some pictures while waiting for my Advil buzz to kick in pre-leg waxing. Yeah, whatever, TMI.



And photographic evidence of the Starbucks addiction. Yes, there are a gazillion independent coffee shops out there that probably make much better coffee than Starbucks, and hell yeah do I feel guilty about the Starbucks. But I still drink the Starbucks. I drink the Starbucks a lot. I think the Starbucks hate stems from my jealousy over not inventing my own thing that I can overprice and mass market.

When I Spew, I Spew A Lot

It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper update, the last being pounded out relatively quickly on N&K’s computer on the weekend. A couple of things that have been occupying the brain:

• I officially hate the potential-but-probably-not buyers of my house. I mentioned the dog thing last week – this is all about an EFFING DOG.

The buyers made their original offer in late July, and my lawyer sent the contract over to their lawyer for attorney review on July 24 (read: 2.5 weeks ago). First they asked us to wait a week for attorney review because the lawyer was on vacation (yep, there are no other available lawyers in NJ, none at all.) Then, their lawyer comes back with 29 points of contention on a standard real estate contract. Most of them were just bullshit, but my favorite was something along the lines of “seller will refund deposit if buyer cannot secure mortgage.” Um, yeah, whatever. The final point was about wanting written confirmation that they could have two dogs on the property. My lawyer sent them a letter back telling them about this little thing called “due diligence.” Yeah, you should RESEARCH the house you’re buying BEFORE you put an offer in on a house. The potential buyers did their due diligence and found this statement in my condo associations bylaws “confusing” – “No more than two cats, or one cat and one dog shall be maintained in any unit at one time.” Um, that’s not confusing. You can’t have two dogs. It’s fairly clear. Unless you’re a moron.

The one dog is apparently 14 years old and not expected to live long, so the buyer put an appeal into my condo association and I supported that appeal with a written letter. Done, are we moving on yet? Appeals to the Board take a while, and I figured that there was no way the potential buyers would expect us to actually WAIT for the Board and not continue to market the house. Well, they did, and apparently threw a shit fit when they found out that we’re continuing to market it. WTF? Seriously? And now they probably won’t buy. Sigh. There’s a part of me that’s all “good riddance” but then there’s the other “I don’t want to lose money” part of me that just wants to cry. Look, I understand love of pets. I love my cats and I would never give them up. That’s why – when I look for apartments – I always make sure that pets (plural) are allowed. Because I’m like, responsible and shit. I hate these people.

Update: my mom just called and said she now has another very interested buyer. Woo hoo. Fingers crossed.

• The current terrorist plot and the relating airport scare. Reactive much? I know I should be much less cynical about this and I really do applaud the people that caught the people planning the attack. Still, the reaction just seems very….well, reactive. It’s been five years since 9/11, we are in a war – it just seems like we could get a little better at understanding that this shit is just not going to let up – the more restrictions we impose, the more people are going to get creative. Expect the worst, plan (as much as that word actually applies) for it, and hope it never happens. There’s a pretty good article over on Slate that pretty much sums up what I think.

And yes, I’m selfish. My dissatisfaction mostly stems from not wanting to wait on long lines or give up my chapstick and water to fly or to have to check bags when I really don’t need to. So I’m an asshole? Sue me.

Related: I really am completely baffled by all the people writing letters to the editors of The New York Times, The Boston Globe and others, saying that the latest arrests “prove” that Bush’s “War on Terror” is working and that those of us who doubt that are morons. This is a victory of sorts – I’ll give you that, and any effort to prevent civilian deaths should be applauded. But still, I don’t think it’s too much of a mental leap to figure that some folks might be pissed that we’re invading countries for no apparent reason and making lots of messes around the world, and some of those folks might become so pissed off, in fact, that they might try to retaliate. It didn’t require a lot of brain power on my part to string that together. Why’s it so hard for other people to think about?

• Interesting article about Cuba given everything going on with Fidel right now. (Thanks Margo!)
I’m not sure if I agree with this statement, “One of the most unfounded, pernicious, dangerous aspects of the US propaganda campaign is the assertion that the Cuban Revolution has been the work of one man ("the tyrant") and the people on the island are desperate to return to US corporate rule.” I do believe Fidel is a dictator and not necessarily the leader of a glorious revolution. However, I really like the points the article brings up about how the Cuban people should really decide how their government should function in the years to come and, duh, that they’re perfectly able to do this by themselves without the help of our guns and heavy artillery.

• Operation Painkiller.
It sounds like a really bad metal band, doesn’t it? It is a very strange feeling to see one’s lily-white hometown blasted all over the news,
and it’s a very, very strange feeling to see the people that live down the street from your parents busted for hardcore drugs. I’m not really surprised to see something like this happen in the Whip, but I don’t get the type of drugs. I fell asleep in a restaurant when I had a glass of wine and accidently mixed it with the Bendadryl I took for an allergy attack. I can only imagine what Oxy would do to me – and whatever it would do to me just isn’t that appealing. Do I really need to spend money to fall asleep? Man, I am OLD.
This shit, though, doesn’t surprise me at all. The gossip, the name-calling….ick.

• The new season of Flavor of Love. Oh good lord is that good stuff. A woman crapped on the floor in the first episode. Flav reacted with, “Man, we don’t got no dogs in here. What is that stank?” This show is GOLD. Gold, I tell ya.

• Expanding my circle of people I talk to outside of work and time with YG and the MG. I want to make sure that I don’t isolate myself and that I do go out and make friends. I’ve been taking lots of walks and bike rides around the neighborhood, and have been making small talk with the people that I meet. This is like pulling teeth for me because it doesn’t come naturally AT ALL, but I’ve had some interesting conversations.

I’m also thinking of taking a class in the late fall on public speaking. There was another class that looked interesting titled “Cooking for One,” but it meets on Halloween, and jesus, what kinds of people are going to show up for that thing? Either I will meet some nice people like me who live by themselves but are still smart and witty and don’t wear cat sweatshirts, or I’ll meet some guy who is sad and lonely and I’ll start talking to him and then he’ll cut my head off and carry it around Cambridge in a duffel bag. I think I’ll stick to academics.

I’m also having some “welcome to the ‘hood” dinners with the people that I like from work, and SKB actually baked me a cake. A cake! From scratch! Very impressive. She and her man came over recently and we ate said cake and some goodies from Whole Foods that I “had to” [read:wanted to] splurge on because I was having “company.” I didn’t want to eat the rest of the cake, but I figured it would be rude to ask SKB to take it with her after she went through the trouble of making it in the first place. And I honestly didn’t want to eat the remaining half for breakfast the next morning, but sadly, that was a battle I did not win.

• On the topic of cake, I am back on WW again. Well, I was never not on it and I was never not going to meetings, but I haven’t really been committed to it. I’ve been exercising like mad, but wasn’t doing so well with the food part – so my weight has been at this plateau for over a year. YG started points-counting again, and the first week we did it together, I lost 2 pounds. I had gotten to within 3 lbs of my goal weight in the past, but then the shit hit the fan and my life got real complicated, and I gained most of it back. Counting from last week’s weigh in, I have 16 pounds to goal.

• On YG and the MG – Starting this week, I’m going to be spending Tuesday nights with them helping out with household stuff like making lunches and working on her reading with her, so that he doesn’t feel so overwhelmed. Last week, we had an incident that made both YG and I realize that he needs the help. The MG lost her glasses and it was crazy pandemonium trying to search for them and get everyone out of the house with lunches made in time to catch the bus to camp and for us to get to work in time. He was angry, she was crying, and I was trying desperately to comfort her and still find the glasses at the same time. And ….talk about lessons carried over from childhood…..keep her and me out of his way so he wouldn’t get any more irritated.

She kept repeating that she left the glasses on her nightstand, and I just KNEW she wasn’t lying. You can just tell, and it certainly made me wonder if my parents’ knew all the times I was trying to bullshit them. She kept crying about disappointing her daddy and how he would have to take time off to get her new glasses. By accident, I said that maybe her mom could pick up her new glasses and she very (and sadly) tellingly said, “My mom doesn’t know how to do stuff like that.” :-( I kind of made a deal with myself to not complain about the Evil Cameltoe anymore on this blog -- it's not cool for YG, and it would be extremly uncool if the MG ever found out about it. As many issues as I have with the EC, I want her daughter to respect her and see her as a person that’s smart and capable. And as a person that can pick up some things when YG can’t handle them. Because that’s a work in progress – getting better as time goes by – but not quite there yet, I’m going to be helping out a bit on the Tuesday nights. I get to spend more time with both of them, YG gets the help he needs, and the help should give him more free time to spend quality time with the MG, good for her.

BTW, the glasses were found but much later. She went to camp without them, but YG’s sister found them later that night wedged between her bed, mattress and wall. I had dismantled every piece of furniture in that bedroom, except the bed. Sigh.

• Music. I want to start seeing more shows, but I find that I’m hearing about them long after they’re sold out. Cat Power is playing at the MFA on my birthday, but that’s sold out. Sonic Youth is playing Labor Day weekend, but I’ll be in Long Island. Clap Your Hands, Say Yeah is playing at the end of Sept. so I’m going to try and recruit a friend to see that with me since YG *hates* them. I know you read this – it’s because you’re old. Hee. And Yo La Tengo will also be around end of Sept. Guster just played here, but the tickets were $38. I like Guster, but $38 is sadly, a lot of cash for me right now, so I guess I don’t like Guster $38 much.

• Writing. I’ve been journaling a lot more lately, and even considered signing up for a creative writing class this fall, but I’m still afraid that someone is going to tell me that I really do suck at this. My fear of actually “trying” at writing is crippling. This will be no news flash to anyone that knows me, but I am AFRAID of writing.

So, a few things….I’m going to keep journaling, and I’m going to try and be a bit more regular about updating this thing. I haven’t applied any sort of critical writing skill to this blog – I don’t outline, spellcheck, edit – it’s more like stream of consciousness verbal diarrhea and it’s safe because I don’t think anyone actually reads it. And if you do, I just told you that I don’t think about it, so hah, you can’t judge me. Nice. But I want to keep it up anyway…just because.

And to try and make it more interesting, I think I’m going to try and do at least one entry a week about something cool and new I’ve discovered in Boston/Cambridge. I’m doing a lot of exploring, so I’m committing to writing about it. It would be great if I had a digital camera and could post pics as well, but that will come in December.

No Sleep Til Brooklyn

Well, I'm awake. Big mama is not. I took the trip back home this weekend to assess what still needs to be done with my house, hang out with my folks and meet the WEL in the flesh. He's here and adorable and gorgeous and squishy and all those good things that newborn babies are supposed to be. He looks much like his dad, i.e. good, and came into the world a wee bit early, but I think that means that he's ahead of the curve in terms of development and smarts. :-)

Other developments:
1. I have an offer on the house. It's in attorney review, but this might all fall through because of a dog. The buyers have 2 dogs. I'm pretty sure Overlook only allows one dog. :-( And this is the ONLY offer I've had that's made it this far. Right now, I'm not going to make any money worth talking about, and if this falls through, it's possible I'll LOSE money on the house. I switch between thinking there's nothing I can do so I should just be calm, and then the pendulum shifts and I completely lose my shit. Today is a content day. Yesterday -- not so much. Ah, hormones.

2. One more month of 29. I'm getting excited for my trip. I still don't know where I'm going, but I have my guesses. This is, by far, the nicest present I've ever gotten, so I'll be happy even if it's 5 days of bowling and Mexican food in Milford, CT.

3. The MG continues to entertain. Last night, we did Cotton Eye Joe and the Macarena and the Electric Slide and laughed and laughed and laughed. She rocks.

And that's about it for now. Time to add some value and help Big Papi L out.

It's Arrived

One text message received at 12:09 a.m. notifying me that the N&K collaborative project has arrived. By my calculations, he's 4 weeks early, but showed up around 7:30p.m. and was 6lbs6oz. It's taking every fiber in my being not to call right now, but it's late -- I really hope you're all okay!

Apologies for the Radio Silence

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I owe many of you emails back and I will get to them -- it's just been a long couple of weeks. I'm still getting settled in and only got my home connection up this weekend, and Comcast is still being wonky so that I can't access all of my sites and blah, blah, blah. I will be back.

Right now, I'm in Florida at a sales conference. It's monsooning out and I need to go get on a "dinner cruise" in about 45 minutes -- fabulous.

The good news: Cambridge is so freakin' awesome. I love it and am thoroughly enjoying getting to know it. I haven't done a lot of working out or bike riding, but I've been taking long walks and exploring. Last Friday, I walked down to Harvard and then along Memorial Drive while the sun was setting. Perfect! And my apartment is pretty great too. I'm still unpacking, but it's starting to feel like home and the "perk" of the pool when it's hot as balls out like it's been this week is such a bonus. Last night, YG met me here and we swam, watched some baseball and had some chili, chips and guacomole and then walked up to Porter for frozen yogurt. Also good -- just a half game back!

More good: still liking my job.

The bad: Remember my movers? Remember how I was nervous about them? Well, with good reason -- the guys who delivered the furniture to my house were not only the two biggest assholes on the planet who charged me extras for the most miniscule of stuff...they ALSO managed to break: my coffee table, my dining room table, a bathroom shelving unit, a nightstand, part of my futon, 7 of my 8 dinner plates, lots of other bowls, vases, and a part of my futon frame. My couch also wouldn't fit in the apartment, but even if it had, they had pretty much damaged it. It was a NIGHTMARE with the kicker being that they didn't want to sign the inventory list where I noted all the broken items because "then they'd have to pay for them." Fuckers.

Anyway, the insurance company will be handling it, and the moving company that hired these guys to do their deliveries said they'll no longer be contracting with them. Right now, I'm waiting for the revised inventory list so that I can file my claim.

Also not good: Still haven't sold the house. Please, please, please if you know of anyone interested, send them here.

Very bad: The Evil Cametoe is a fucking bitch. Period. She whines, manipulates and ambushes, and she's made a very good person doubt his own goodness. She sucks. Because I'm the mature one (mature enough to name her the Evil Cameltoe on my self-indulgent blog. Anyway) -- I try to keep my opinions about her to myself and because I'm not 12, I'll pretend like I don't want to bitch slap her ass and scream, "Get a fucking job, asshole!" Sigh.

Feeling not bad, but not good about either: My new haircut and hairdresser. She couldn't match the color exactly. It's still red, but it's not MY perfect red. And it's a bit short. AND she spent some time with mousse and a diffuser -- that's a little too flashback for me.

Also: I mailed in my divorce paperwork. My lawyer is going to prepare my docs and file. It's been a long time coming, but ick...who says, "wow, I'm so psyched I get to file for divorce. Isn't that fantastic?"

That's all I've got time for now.

Reading: The Corrections.

Listening to: lots of Bruce Springsteen, lots of Sam Prekop, not enough Weezer