Sometimes I have the best intentions. I noticed last week that my first blog post ever was last year on May 11, 2006 and I was going to write this very epic, yet totally not self involved, year in review about how much things have changed, how I've been remiss in not keeping this up to date (but have kept it up longer than I thought I would), and what's next in my epic, but not self-involved life. And then I didn't. I watched t.v. [sidenote: can we all have a hand clap for Lost regaining its awesomeness? Yes? Thanks.]
And then I was going to write another post about how it's Mothers Day and how awesome (and totally insane) my mom is, and then I really wanted to write it after and spending yesterday with NN and K and offspring, and NN said, "Can you write a book about your family? They're so funny." But I didn't. I stayed up late and watched the Yankee game [Yes Network, how I've missed you] with my parents and wrapped Mother's Day gifts and finished reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (um, meh).
And I was going to write about the wonder of the Acela "quiet car" and how great it is to have total silence for four hours and not have to listen to douchebags talking on their cell phones. And why you should always put vegetables in peanut sauce. But I didn't.
So consider this a placeholder for very important things.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Sunday, May 06, 2007
We Have A Place To Live
After a series of misses and a lot of freaking out on my part, we have finally found the perfect place to live. Great neighborhood, great place, great perks -- I'm really excited. I know that we'll be happy there and the MG gets a really cool room, and we get an office...and relatively important, I get to keep all my shoes. :-)
Now on to the packing...
In other news, the bad news stuff that I alluded to in one of my last posts is getting better. I really wanted something at work. It didn't work out, and I thought I was okay with it, but after a particularly bad week last week, I ended CRYING...AT WORK. In front of my boss. I am horrified and mortified and so goddam pissed at myself for getting so emotional. I feel like it makes me look like someone that can't be taken seriously, that shouldn't be given big tasks, etc. I'm still sort of shaken, but am hoping that I can put it behind me. Or better yet, hoping that everyone that witnessed my meltdown can. It's not a regular occurance, but I loathe anything that makes me appear, well, ...human, to anybody else.
On the good work news, we have a new person on the team that I'm very excited to work with. Things didn't work out for me, but she was the only person that I considered a real asset and that I really wanted to work with. Back to the mortification -- I'm absolutely horrified that my sniffles and crying and meltdown occured during her first week, but fingers crossed that she doesn't think I'm a total dipshit and will let me prove how good I can be. I haven't been this excited to work with a bunch of people in a long time.
That's the abridged version. I had a long drawn out post about how I should just quit my job and work at Starbuck's because I am obviously incompetent. But I'm not. I'm pretty fucking smart, and I had a pretty great weekend so I declare an end to the wallowing.
Now on to the packing...
In other news, the bad news stuff that I alluded to in one of my last posts is getting better. I really wanted something at work. It didn't work out, and I thought I was okay with it, but after a particularly bad week last week, I ended CRYING...AT WORK. In front of my boss. I am horrified and mortified and so goddam pissed at myself for getting so emotional. I feel like it makes me look like someone that can't be taken seriously, that shouldn't be given big tasks, etc. I'm still sort of shaken, but am hoping that I can put it behind me. Or better yet, hoping that everyone that witnessed my meltdown can. It's not a regular occurance, but I loathe anything that makes me appear, well, ...human, to anybody else.
On the good work news, we have a new person on the team that I'm very excited to work with. Things didn't work out for me, but she was the only person that I considered a real asset and that I really wanted to work with. Back to the mortification -- I'm absolutely horrified that my sniffles and crying and meltdown occured during her first week, but fingers crossed that she doesn't think I'm a total dipshit and will let me prove how good I can be. I haven't been this excited to work with a bunch of people in a long time.
That's the abridged version. I had a long drawn out post about how I should just quit my job and work at Starbuck's because I am obviously incompetent. But I'm not. I'm pretty fucking smart, and I had a pretty great weekend so I declare an end to the wallowing.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Anxiety Attack
I am moving. With YG and MG. We're looking for a place in my neighborhood, but bigger and with a yard and/or deck where MG-aged people can play. This should be relatively easy. It should be quick. It should be FUN.
But I am wracked with anxiety. We've looked at a number of places, and none have been perfect for various reasons. I was ready to sell my firstborn for an apartment we looked at on Sat. in the perfect location, but a not-so-perfect pricetag and no room for expansion. Then last night, we found another almost perfect one with a OMG-I-could-save-so-much-$ pricetag and perfect yard in the perfect neighborhood, but two closets and a teeny tiny master bedroom that would fit YG's big bed and not much else. In short, I would need to get rid of most of my big things and A LOT of my clothes and shoes. I already signficantly pared that stuff down when I moved up here last year and some of it has sentimental value (my grandparents' furniture) so...ack.
Of course, I know what this is all about because I read self-help books and take yoga and am all self-aware. It's about security blankets. It's about MY stuff and ME and protecting ME. If I get rid of all my stuff and it doesn't work out, I end up with nothing again. And what if it doesn't work out again? I'm moving in...with a boy. The last time I did this, I got married, and as you know, my track record for unsuccessful marriages and bitter, painful divorces is stellar. Do I need a china cabinet? Am I the type of person who even uses china? I eat hot pockets and take out. Do I need 6 pairs of black boots and twelve pairs of Classic Fit straight-legged black pants? Probably not. But this stuff is mine, and I'm possessive and weird and obviously FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.
And I have two months to find a place so all of this is premature and we will find a place, and I won't be relegated to the only two other obvious options for me if I don't find a place to live:
1. selling crack on the streets
2. living on my parents' couch back in the NJ suburbs, watching WPIX reruns and wearing velour sweatsuits
Sigh.
But I am wracked with anxiety. We've looked at a number of places, and none have been perfect for various reasons. I was ready to sell my firstborn for an apartment we looked at on Sat. in the perfect location, but a not-so-perfect pricetag and no room for expansion. Then last night, we found another almost perfect one with a OMG-I-could-save-so-much-$ pricetag and perfect yard in the perfect neighborhood, but two closets and a teeny tiny master bedroom that would fit YG's big bed and not much else. In short, I would need to get rid of most of my big things and A LOT of my clothes and shoes. I already signficantly pared that stuff down when I moved up here last year and some of it has sentimental value (my grandparents' furniture) so...ack.
Of course, I know what this is all about because I read self-help books and take yoga and am all self-aware. It's about security blankets. It's about MY stuff and ME and protecting ME. If I get rid of all my stuff and it doesn't work out, I end up with nothing again. And what if it doesn't work out again? I'm moving in...with a boy. The last time I did this, I got married, and as you know, my track record for unsuccessful marriages and bitter, painful divorces is stellar. Do I need a china cabinet? Am I the type of person who even uses china? I eat hot pockets and take out. Do I need 6 pairs of black boots and twelve pairs of Classic Fit straight-legged black pants? Probably not. But this stuff is mine, and I'm possessive and weird and obviously FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.
And I have two months to find a place so all of this is premature and we will find a place, and I won't be relegated to the only two other obvious options for me if I don't find a place to live:
1. selling crack on the streets
2. living on my parents' couch back in the NJ suburbs, watching WPIX reruns and wearing velour sweatsuits
Sigh.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Estoy Cansado (Vacation Recap: The Mexican Edition)
I’ve been back from Mexico for about a week, trying to slowly ease myself back into work, and it’s just not fun. My life would be a lot easier if I could have mimosas every morning at breakfast, and someone came around with margaritas around 10 a.m. Do I start with the bad or the good? Hmmm….
The good. I’ll start with vacation. It was awesome, incredible, relaxing, and all the other good adjectives that one could imagine. We left early Saturday morning and drove down to NJ for a belated Easter (the Lord rises late for us), Brian’s birthday and a stop at Forth & Towne – before, sniff, it closes. I had made a New Year’s Resolution to stop spending so much money on clothes, and I gave up shopping for Lent, so it had been a while since I bought anything new. Of course, everything was fantastic and I have some cute new wrap dresses and funky t-shirts for summer. WHY is this store closing? I ended up talking with the sales girl for a while about how sad we were about the shutdown and why the clothes fit so great (the secret is the fit model. It’s a size 10 woman). All the 14-year-old aneoerexics and the un-boobed have their own stores. Why can’t I have mine?
We had dinner with the extended family down in Freehold (Broooce!) and ate like fat bastards and with the exception of a minor delay last Sunday morning due to the Noreaster, got the hell down to Mexico. Our seats were spread apart, but YG ended up swapping and got a seat next to the MG. I was seated next to a young couple who were going on their honeymoon, and were perfectly pleasant minus the fact that they were wearing glittery “just married” t-shirts.
Immigration was long and hot, but uneventful. I am always amazed by Americans and their sweatshirts when I travel. Granted, I am not a fashionista, but a corporate-logo-ed crewneck sweatshirt as travel attire? Please. There’s always a little part of me that secretly hopes that all the people wearing ill-fitted America: These Colors Don’t Bleed sweatshirts with eagle artwork are all engaged in some form of group performance art. That would be awesome.
After some haggling with the crazy airport timeshare people and a bus ride, we finally arrived at the resort. It seemed nice enough, but YG’s persistence, the MG’s cuteness and my jugs helped us score a nicer room with a terrace and a balcony, overlooking the resort and the ocean at no extra cost. The MG and I quickly put our swimsuits on and ran down to the pool, while YG got some “alone time” to unwind and develop some strategies to not kill the two of us during a week’s worth of family fun. The MG swam while I provided the best supervision one can while drinking margaritas and reading Allure.
The rest of the week provided much of the same. I’ve never done an all-inclusive resort before, and if it was just YG and I, I might not do it again. But with a kid? Awesome! She made a few friends at Kids Club and we never had to worry about where we were going to eat or go for entertainment. None of the food was fantastic, but none of it was bad either. It was middle of the road, with the exception of some fantastic guacamole. And I never developed a raging case of the poops, so….all good.
The grounds were beautiful. We spent a lot of time lounging by the pool and on the beach. I thought I’d spend a lot more time reflecting, writing, figuring out all my big issues and shit, but I didn’t. I just RELAXED. I drank a lot. I ate a lot. I swam a lot. I read a lot [4 books: finished the Barack Obama book, finally read Housekeeping, and started both Intuitive Eating and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius] and listened to my iPod. I did some writing, but nothing intense – a lot of “wow, the water is really blue and warm and I am very happy, blah, blah, blah” stuff. I didn’t obsess about my body. I spent most of the week in a bathing suit and nobody died. I even showed a coworker some of the pictures from vacation with me in a bathing suit and again, nobody died. The MG and I rode the waves, and the YG and I spent a lot of time making eyes at each other and being happy to be around each other. Kind of gross, actually. J
On Wednesday, we took a boat to Isla Mujeres and rode the waterslide and did some “shopping” at some of the crappy tourist shops downtown. It was sort of a cheesy trip and could have been bad (i.e. the promised “beautiful beach and waterslide” was actually more like ghetto plastic slide running into the skeevy lagoon where the boats dock), but we tried to have fun and actually did. I nearly cracked my skull on the waterslide. Those things are wicked fun (see, I’m getting the lingo!). On the ride back, the MG entertained the whole boat with her sick moves and interpretive dance. We walked along the beach that night and laid on the lounge chairs, watching the sky. I saw a shooting star and a few satellites and got a little teary because the whole night was very pretty and Walton’s and nice.
MG played with her Canadian friend from Kids Club on Thursday, and we had dinner with her parents. On Friday, we set up camp at one of the small beach huts and stayed there for the whole day. It was the best day all week with lots of swimming and playing and shell hunting and snacks and candy bars in the sand. The MG won a dance contest that night, and YG and I were able to watch ESPN and the Yankees/Sox game. [sidenote: Yankees. WTF?]
Saturday it was back to the airport and long, sweaty lines and nasty people. The take-off was smooth, though, and I saw our resort from the air. And then we were back. In New Jersey. With Godfather and Maggie Moo's.
I don’t feel like getting into the bad quite yet, so I’ll just leave it at that for now.
And I'm trying to upload the pictures to Flickr, but she's totally being a bitch right now. Grrr...
The good. I’ll start with vacation. It was awesome, incredible, relaxing, and all the other good adjectives that one could imagine. We left early Saturday morning and drove down to NJ for a belated Easter (the Lord rises late for us), Brian’s birthday and a stop at Forth & Towne – before, sniff, it closes. I had made a New Year’s Resolution to stop spending so much money on clothes, and I gave up shopping for Lent, so it had been a while since I bought anything new. Of course, everything was fantastic and I have some cute new wrap dresses and funky t-shirts for summer. WHY is this store closing? I ended up talking with the sales girl for a while about how sad we were about the shutdown and why the clothes fit so great (the secret is the fit model. It’s a size 10 woman). All the 14-year-old aneoerexics and the un-boobed have their own stores. Why can’t I have mine?
We had dinner with the extended family down in Freehold (Broooce!) and ate like fat bastards and with the exception of a minor delay last Sunday morning due to the Noreaster, got the hell down to Mexico. Our seats were spread apart, but YG ended up swapping and got a seat next to the MG. I was seated next to a young couple who were going on their honeymoon, and were perfectly pleasant minus the fact that they were wearing glittery “just married” t-shirts.
Immigration was long and hot, but uneventful. I am always amazed by Americans and their sweatshirts when I travel. Granted, I am not a fashionista, but a corporate-logo-ed crewneck sweatshirt as travel attire? Please. There’s always a little part of me that secretly hopes that all the people wearing ill-fitted America: These Colors Don’t Bleed sweatshirts with eagle artwork are all engaged in some form of group performance art. That would be awesome.
After some haggling with the crazy airport timeshare people and a bus ride, we finally arrived at the resort. It seemed nice enough, but YG’s persistence, the MG’s cuteness and my jugs helped us score a nicer room with a terrace and a balcony, overlooking the resort and the ocean at no extra cost. The MG and I quickly put our swimsuits on and ran down to the pool, while YG got some “alone time” to unwind and develop some strategies to not kill the two of us during a week’s worth of family fun. The MG swam while I provided the best supervision one can while drinking margaritas and reading Allure.
The rest of the week provided much of the same. I’ve never done an all-inclusive resort before, and if it was just YG and I, I might not do it again. But with a kid? Awesome! She made a few friends at Kids Club and we never had to worry about where we were going to eat or go for entertainment. None of the food was fantastic, but none of it was bad either. It was middle of the road, with the exception of some fantastic guacamole. And I never developed a raging case of the poops, so….all good.
The grounds were beautiful. We spent a lot of time lounging by the pool and on the beach. I thought I’d spend a lot more time reflecting, writing, figuring out all my big issues and shit, but I didn’t. I just RELAXED. I drank a lot. I ate a lot. I swam a lot. I read a lot [4 books: finished the Barack Obama book, finally read Housekeeping, and started both Intuitive Eating and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius] and listened to my iPod. I did some writing, but nothing intense – a lot of “wow, the water is really blue and warm and I am very happy, blah, blah, blah” stuff. I didn’t obsess about my body. I spent most of the week in a bathing suit and nobody died. I even showed a coworker some of the pictures from vacation with me in a bathing suit and again, nobody died. The MG and I rode the waves, and the YG and I spent a lot of time making eyes at each other and being happy to be around each other. Kind of gross, actually. J
On Wednesday, we took a boat to Isla Mujeres and rode the waterslide and did some “shopping” at some of the crappy tourist shops downtown. It was sort of a cheesy trip and could have been bad (i.e. the promised “beautiful beach and waterslide” was actually more like ghetto plastic slide running into the skeevy lagoon where the boats dock), but we tried to have fun and actually did. I nearly cracked my skull on the waterslide. Those things are wicked fun (see, I’m getting the lingo!). On the ride back, the MG entertained the whole boat with her sick moves and interpretive dance. We walked along the beach that night and laid on the lounge chairs, watching the sky. I saw a shooting star and a few satellites and got a little teary because the whole night was very pretty and Walton’s and nice.
MG played with her Canadian friend from Kids Club on Thursday, and we had dinner with her parents. On Friday, we set up camp at one of the small beach huts and stayed there for the whole day. It was the best day all week with lots of swimming and playing and shell hunting and snacks and candy bars in the sand. The MG won a dance contest that night, and YG and I were able to watch ESPN and the Yankees/Sox game. [sidenote: Yankees. WTF?]
Saturday it was back to the airport and long, sweaty lines and nasty people. The take-off was smooth, though, and I saw our resort from the air. And then we were back. In New Jersey. With Godfather and Maggie Moo's.
I don’t feel like getting into the bad quite yet, so I’ll just leave it at that for now.
And I'm trying to upload the pictures to Flickr, but she's totally being a bitch right now. Grrr...
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Photo Goodness...or BB and Phil Come to Boston
Stop pushing up my headers, Blogger!
If this were ten years ago, there would be somebody grabbing somebody else's boob.
Letter to the missing party.
If this were ten years ago, there would be somebody grabbing somebody else's boob.
Letter to the missing party. 
A Good Day Ends With Projectile Vomiting
One more work day until Mexico!
Unfortunately today's work day ended with being projectile vomited on by some drunk hozzle on the T. Good times. Adding insult to injury, a group of fratties felt the need to imitate said projectile vomiting every time she heaved.
The worst thing about this -- I have to dry clean a pair of pants I wore only once.
Unfortunately today's work day ended with being projectile vomited on by some drunk hozzle on the T. Good times. Adding insult to injury, a group of fratties felt the need to imitate said projectile vomiting every time she heaved.
The worst thing about this -- I have to dry clean a pair of pants I wore only once.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
40 Days and 40 Nights
That seems about how long it's been since I've updated. It's not that I don't want to -- and I even have these flashes of "that's pretty funny, I should put it on my blog for the 3 people that read it," but then I forget or the "hassle" of logging on (all 1 minute) seems insurmountable. Blame it on Tyra Banks -- she's the one that puts on America's Next Top Model. And when it comes down to it? Writing about my life vs. watching rappers throw aneorexics in a pool? The aneorexics are going to win every time.
Things that are going on:
* One week until Cancun! I'm going to have to earn this vacation with another hell week at work, but good lord, I will be in Cancun, hopefully doing shots, entering a wet t-shirt contest and riding a mechanical bull in one week. Not really, but that would be awesome.
* BB and Phil came up to Massachusetts last weekend and we had fun trudging around the city, looking at old photos and eating lots of food. I hadn't seen them in over a year so it was good to catch up. Plus, we got to tell YG the "heh -- remember when your dad slipped me the beef" story. Lesson learned -- if it tastes better than chicken, it's veal. And second lesson -- cutting out beef, but continuing to chow down on salted pork does not make a vegetarian.
I'm hoping that we can get up to Syracuse some time soon and all hang out in spandex.
* Baseball season started! Carl Pavano lives. And sucks.
A work friend has extra tickets for a Yankees/Red Sox game at Fenway and offered them to me, but we'll be in Cancun. Muy mal.
* Being bummed that I'm missing all sorts of good shows because I'm old and not all hip and cool and camping out overnight for tickets. All of the following were on my "I absolutely have to see these guys live" list, and by the time I got my shit together, were sold out: Spoon, Arcade Fire, Modest Mouse, and Cowboy Junkies. Also sold out -- the Toasters. The Toasters! How frickin' cool would that have been? I saw the Toasters in London in 1996. I'm bummed.
However, I am going to see Morrissey this summer with cool work colleague, the Doctor. Yes, I'm a little old for that. No, I really don't care. I plan to wear all black, smoke clove cigarettes and write in my journal about my pain, my deep and heartfelt pain. The anguish.
* Of the things I was going to blog about, but keep forgetting due to Tyra: open letters.
Like an open letter to my ass.
Dear ass, I like it that you're loud and boisterous just like me. But please, keep it down at work. Really. Thanks. -jm
Dear makers of low-rise tights, Was this really something that we, as a society, needed? Seriously? Did someone come up to you and say "hey, I really need something that's going to hang over my belly roll, threaten to fall down all the time and force to me to be rootin' around in my ass every five minutes"? There must have been asking for them. Because only a dick would invent this torture device otherwise. -- jm
Yeah, they sound much funnier in my head.
* Easter. Woo hoo! Cadbury cream eggs. Beer! Ham! Mmmm.....pork and Jesus' return. Good stuff.
Things that are going on:
* One week until Cancun! I'm going to have to earn this vacation with another hell week at work, but good lord, I will be in Cancun, hopefully doing shots, entering a wet t-shirt contest and riding a mechanical bull in one week. Not really, but that would be awesome.
* BB and Phil came up to Massachusetts last weekend and we had fun trudging around the city, looking at old photos and eating lots of food. I hadn't seen them in over a year so it was good to catch up. Plus, we got to tell YG the "heh -- remember when your dad slipped me the beef" story. Lesson learned -- if it tastes better than chicken, it's veal. And second lesson -- cutting out beef, but continuing to chow down on salted pork does not make a vegetarian.
I'm hoping that we can get up to Syracuse some time soon and all hang out in spandex.
* Baseball season started! Carl Pavano lives. And sucks.
A work friend has extra tickets for a Yankees/Red Sox game at Fenway and offered them to me, but we'll be in Cancun. Muy mal.
* Being bummed that I'm missing all sorts of good shows because I'm old and not all hip and cool and camping out overnight for tickets. All of the following were on my "I absolutely have to see these guys live" list, and by the time I got my shit together, were sold out: Spoon, Arcade Fire, Modest Mouse, and Cowboy Junkies. Also sold out -- the Toasters. The Toasters! How frickin' cool would that have been? I saw the Toasters in London in 1996. I'm bummed.
However, I am going to see Morrissey this summer with cool work colleague, the Doctor. Yes, I'm a little old for that. No, I really don't care. I plan to wear all black, smoke clove cigarettes and write in my journal about my pain, my deep and heartfelt pain. The anguish.
* Of the things I was going to blog about, but keep forgetting due to Tyra: open letters.
Like an open letter to my ass.
Dear ass, I like it that you're loud and boisterous just like me. But please, keep it down at work. Really. Thanks. -jm
Dear makers of low-rise tights, Was this really something that we, as a society, needed? Seriously? Did someone come up to you and say "hey, I really need something that's going to hang over my belly roll, threaten to fall down all the time and force to me to be rootin' around in my ass every five minutes"? There must have been asking for them. Because only a dick would invent this torture device otherwise. -- jm
Yeah, they sound much funnier in my head.
* Easter. Woo hoo! Cadbury cream eggs. Beer! Ham! Mmmm.....pork and Jesus' return. Good stuff.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Snow Day
After a few days of 60 degree weather, we're back to snow and ice again. So strange. I was relishing my few days of skirts, and shoes with no socks, and the banishment of the dreaded winter granny sock. Yeah, how hot is that? You know you want those legs.
Now it's all snowy and icy and rainy and bleh. I did make it into the office this morning to have what's becoming a ritual panic attack about how much I didn't get done, and then I left for the trek home in the snow, narrowly missing getting sideswiped by some dumb motherfucker in a SUV who deemed himself invincible. :-(
With the exception of today, though, it's officially the brown season -- that crappy couple of months between the prettiness of the white winter and the beginning of Spring. Honestly, I've been busy but not busy enough to justify not writing. I've just been feeling sort of blah and uninteresting with lots of daily rants about the people that cut me off on the road and people that talk too long on their cell phones and people that move too slow, but you don't really need to hear about that. I save the real, juicy details of my glamarama life for you, dear readers.
What I have been doing:
* I went back to the Whip a few weeks ago for my dad's birthday. I took YG and the MG and we had a good time, but as usual, it seemed too short. The three of us slept in my old room. Me in my bed, YG in Beckshack's and the MG on an air mattress between us. I think that's the first time a boy [that I wasn't married to] has ever been allowed to sleep in the room with me at my parents' house. Woo hoo -- those crazy hippies! It's a slippery slope now. We're all slouching towards Gomorrah from here.
* I saw Dean & Britta at the MFA last week, and it was divine and lovely and swoon-inducing. YG and I were having some wine and appetizers at the cafe, and they both walked in and I didn't think either of them were quite as attractive as I remembered. Attractive, but....weathered. But then they started singing and I was transfixed and convinced it would have been an even better show if we could have all made out. I had no idea that Britta was Jem.
I think it would be really awesome if she just busted out with "Showtime Synergy!" in the middle of a set sometime. Don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.
* I just finished Fast Food Nation. Shout out to East Hanover for manufacturing the "flavor" of some of this stuff. Helped me understand why people become vegetarians. I think I'm going to have a hard time with hamburgers for a while.
* Work. Still one man down. Still busy. I'm getting more responsibility and I still do like it, but somedays I wonder where I'm going with all this. I had a day earlier in the week with a bunch of nagging shit and it was 60 degrees out and sunny, and I had this very, very, VERY strong urge to win the lottery. I wouldn't quit working. I just wouldn't care so much what people thought of me. And I'd do a lot more clubs and sports and reading and writing because if I got fired for slacking? Suck it, bitches -- I won the lotto! :-)
* Obsessively reading other people's brilliant blogs, rather than working on my own. I absolutely adore Big Fat Deal. And, as always, am a religious reader of Go Fug Yourself, although their warning about the immient arrival of shorts jumpsuits gave me hives.
* And I have some fun stuff coming up in the next few weeks. BB and NN and their respective other halves and spawn will be coming up for a weekend soon; I finally get to see SKB sing; Easter, another visit to the Whip, and MEXICO!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
HAPPY BIRTHDAY YG!
Happy, happy, happy! The last birthday in your 30s. Let the hookers and crack commence.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Oh Self Loathing, How I've Missed You
Numbers. Numbers. Numbers. I haven’t written about WW and my weight for a while because it’s boring, and to be more honest, it hasn’t been going so hot. I’ve been unmotivated and then I was traveling for a while – three meals a day on the road, eating at weird times, lots of drinking, etc. Still, when I was in San Francisco, I got my ass up every morning between 5:30 and 6:30 and went to the gym; I walked about 10 miles over one weekend, I wrote down every freaking bit of food and drink I put into my mouth.
And I gained 8.8 lbs since my last weigh-in on January 24. 8.8 pounds.
To give you some context, it took me about a year to get to my 10% goal on WW a few years back. That was 18 lbs at the time. I lost a little over a pound a month. I just gained 8.8 pounds in ONE month. I have about 3 pairs of pants that fit and I’m totally in the middle of eating a big slice of my own messed-up headcake.
I wish it didn’t matter so much to me. I know that I was able to work out, walk, and have fun without getting out of breath, so I’m obviously in okay shape. I wish this was all about my health. I also logically know that being overweight doesn’t equal being a “bad” person, or an “unworthy” person.
I KNOW that stuff. But it never actually feels that way when you’re staring at that number on the scale and making all sorts of wide-ranging assumptions about your self-worth because it’s much higher than it’s supposed to be. I can tell myself about a million good things about me that I think are pretty cool, but when I see that number on the scale, I hate myself just a little bit.
And that’s so wrong. And so stupid. And let’s face it, so self-involved.
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. The three traditional practices people usually take up during Lent are prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving(justice towards neighbor). Maybe in the next 40 days, I can stop loathing myself over stupid shit, treat myself right and free up some time to help somebody other than myself. When I think of all the time I could be spending thinking about “important things” and not my weight/WW/good food vs. bad food/the size of my ass in jeans….I am amazed.
ETA: Went and had a glass of wine and then went to the mass?/service (whatever the UCC calls it) for Ash Wednesday, and it was really nice and I feel much, much better.
And I gained 8.8 lbs since my last weigh-in on January 24. 8.8 pounds.
To give you some context, it took me about a year to get to my 10% goal on WW a few years back. That was 18 lbs at the time. I lost a little over a pound a month. I just gained 8.8 pounds in ONE month. I have about 3 pairs of pants that fit and I’m totally in the middle of eating a big slice of my own messed-up headcake.
I wish it didn’t matter so much to me. I know that I was able to work out, walk, and have fun without getting out of breath, so I’m obviously in okay shape. I wish this was all about my health. I also logically know that being overweight doesn’t equal being a “bad” person, or an “unworthy” person.
I KNOW that stuff. But it never actually feels that way when you’re staring at that number on the scale and making all sorts of wide-ranging assumptions about your self-worth because it’s much higher than it’s supposed to be. I can tell myself about a million good things about me that I think are pretty cool, but when I see that number on the scale, I hate myself just a little bit.
And that’s so wrong. And so stupid. And let’s face it, so self-involved.
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. The three traditional practices people usually take up during Lent are prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving(justice towards neighbor). Maybe in the next 40 days, I can stop loathing myself over stupid shit, treat myself right and free up some time to help somebody other than myself. When I think of all the time I could be spending thinking about “important things” and not my weight/WW/good food vs. bad food/the size of my ass in jeans….I am amazed.
ETA: Went and had a glass of wine and then went to the mass?/service (whatever the UCC calls it) for Ash Wednesday, and it was really nice and I feel much, much better.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Normal Life Returns
This is the first weekend in a looong time that I have not been traveling or planning on traveling or packing for traveling. It's nice. I'm not doing much of anything glamorous, but it feels ....normal.
The work week was back to normal, with the exception of a snow storm on Wednesday that crapped things up for a bit. Given that this is Massachusetts and it's supposed to be cold and snowy in the winter, I figured that everyone would be at work. Wrong. Drove an hour in the snow and discovered only a handful of folks there, so I went to a bunch of meetings and then drove home again in near white-out conditions. That took another hour, and when I turned into the parking lot, it wasn't plowed and I got totally, utterly, awfully stuck. Shovel. Gun it. Shovel. Gun it. Shovel. Gun it. Nada. By this time, it was freezing rain; I was soaking wet, and getting a tad freaked out by the guy in the truck staring at me while I was doing all this. He got out of his truck, walked over, and I assumed he was a Good Samaritan coming to help out. Nooo. He said, "Are you going to be doing that much longer? I really want to get out of here." Then he walked back and sat in his truck. WTF? Usually I can come up with a snappy comeback or just the tried-and-true "go fuck yourself," but my jaw just dropped. Thankfully YG responded to my Bitch Call and came and helped me out. I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between laundry, conference calls and email, before we went to Sandrine's for Valentine's Day dinner. The food was yummy, we got a bottle of white burgundy, and then spent a romantic evening shoveling ice.
Last night, I saw the MG for the first time in three weeks and we went to Friendly's and played balloon volleyball -- standard fare. I missed her while I was gone. This morning, we went sledding and she's downstairs now on a "play date" with her friend, frosting cookies. YG is reading, I'm up here and it feels good to be doing nothing that requires actual movement or aerobic exercise.
We're heading back into Cambridge tonight for our usual Sunday -- church and then Temple Bar for brunch. In preparation for Lent, here are the things I'm giving up:
1. shoes
2. beer
3. chocolate
4. dropping f-bombs
JC would be so proud!
I suppose I should think about DOING something, rather than giving things up, but it's hard to erase what's ingrained. I had thought about committing to doing this (the blog, writing, etc) for at least 40 days, but that's sort of selfish, and more for me than anyone else. But then again, happy me = happy others. I dunno -- it's a bit shoddy logic, ya know? What's the difference between that and say, "Well, hookers and coke make ME happy so....everyone wins!"
I'm not feeling very inspired right now. Just content. And that makes for boring reading.
So I'll just link you to some funny shit that made me nearly pee my pants:
* Brenda Dickson -- Welcome to My Home Part One
Despite the frightening return of leggings, the 80's seem so very far away. "There was a time in my career when I wouldn't be caught dead in a gown like this," said while wearing a gold lame dress with shoulder pads.
* Part Two.
Make-up and diet tips.
During this religious season, I personally want to thank Jesus for Youtube.
The work week was back to normal, with the exception of a snow storm on Wednesday that crapped things up for a bit. Given that this is Massachusetts and it's supposed to be cold and snowy in the winter, I figured that everyone would be at work. Wrong. Drove an hour in the snow and discovered only a handful of folks there, so I went to a bunch of meetings and then drove home again in near white-out conditions. That took another hour, and when I turned into the parking lot, it wasn't plowed and I got totally, utterly, awfully stuck. Shovel. Gun it. Shovel. Gun it. Shovel. Gun it. Nada. By this time, it was freezing rain; I was soaking wet, and getting a tad freaked out by the guy in the truck staring at me while I was doing all this. He got out of his truck, walked over, and I assumed he was a Good Samaritan coming to help out. Nooo. He said, "Are you going to be doing that much longer? I really want to get out of here." Then he walked back and sat in his truck. WTF? Usually I can come up with a snappy comeback or just the tried-and-true "go fuck yourself," but my jaw just dropped. Thankfully YG responded to my Bitch Call and came and helped me out. I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between laundry, conference calls and email, before we went to Sandrine's for Valentine's Day dinner. The food was yummy, we got a bottle of white burgundy, and then spent a romantic evening shoveling ice.
Last night, I saw the MG for the first time in three weeks and we went to Friendly's and played balloon volleyball -- standard fare. I missed her while I was gone. This morning, we went sledding and she's downstairs now on a "play date" with her friend, frosting cookies. YG is reading, I'm up here and it feels good to be doing nothing that requires actual movement or aerobic exercise.
We're heading back into Cambridge tonight for our usual Sunday -- church and then Temple Bar for brunch. In preparation for Lent, here are the things I'm giving up:
1. shoes
2. beer
3. chocolate
4. dropping f-bombs
JC would be so proud!
I suppose I should think about DOING something, rather than giving things up, but it's hard to erase what's ingrained. I had thought about committing to doing this (the blog, writing, etc) for at least 40 days, but that's sort of selfish, and more for me than anyone else. But then again, happy me = happy others. I dunno -- it's a bit shoddy logic, ya know? What's the difference between that and say, "Well, hookers and coke make ME happy so....everyone wins!"
I'm not feeling very inspired right now. Just content. And that makes for boring reading.
So I'll just link you to some funny shit that made me nearly pee my pants:
* Brenda Dickson -- Welcome to My Home Part One
Despite the frightening return of leggings, the 80's seem so very far away. "There was a time in my career when I wouldn't be caught dead in a gown like this," said while wearing a gold lame dress with shoulder pads.
* Part Two.
Make-up and diet tips.
During this religious season, I personally want to thank Jesus for Youtube.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Public Service Announcement
Jet lag sucks. The red eye sucks. Too much "urgent" email in my inbox after only one day of vacation sucks.
San Francisco does not suck. Cellophane noodles with Dungeness crab at Slanted Door does not suck. Drinking lots of champagne and wine in Napa does not suck. The chicken at The Rutherford Grill does not suck. Having an extra vacation weekend with YG does not suck.
The fact that I experience all these great moments and do not think to write them down -- that, does in fact, suck.
San Francisco does not suck. Cellophane noodles with Dungeness crab at Slanted Door does not suck. Drinking lots of champagne and wine in Napa does not suck. The chicken at The Rutherford Grill does not suck. Having an extra vacation weekend with YG does not suck.
The fact that I experience all these great moments and do not think to write them down -- that, does in fact, suck.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
No, I'm Not A Missing Person
Just busy with work, and today, busy with recovering from a tequila hangover. 4 margaritas = a LOT.
In sad news, this week, an old buddy died. Finn -- my college roommate and best friend's cat. She got Finn at the same time as I got Alistair, and we all lived together for a bit. Finn and Alistair would sleep at the bottom of my bed. It's hard to mourn the passing of a pet. It's all just very....melancholy.
My next post will be from California.
In sad news, this week, an old buddy died. Finn -- my college roommate and best friend's cat. She got Finn at the same time as I got Alistair, and we all lived together for a bit. Finn and Alistair would sleep at the bottom of my bed. It's hard to mourn the passing of a pet. It's all just very....melancholy.
My next post will be from California.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Itchy, Painful Things and Other Crap
And another ten days passes without posting...sigh. I wish I could say that I was out living it up and rocking out, but I've been either working or hopped up on Benadryl.
If you've known me for a while, you were around for the great painful welt incident in winter 2001 and the allergic rash incident in 2004 complete with my favorite 'roid, Prednisone. This week marked the beginning of Itchy Painful Welts 2007. I had an allergic reaction to something that is, at this point, still unknown and broke out in hives and an itchy rash EVERYWHERE. It was horrible, so I met a dermatologist at the hospital, had him take a look at me, had him determine -- AGAIN -- that I am allergic to something AGAIN, and then had him give me a topical steroid. Yes, topical. I guess the medical community frowns on giving oral 'roids if they're not needed, so for most of the week, I've been dousing myself in something with the same texture and consistency as Vaseline. Gross. Along with that, I was given a ton of Benadryl to take and ended up sleeping through most of "work at home" day on Tuesday. I woke up with my face against the keyboard, drooling. Totally and remarkably hot. And oh, did I mention that this is the busiest time of the year at work? So, not only do I get to deal with the shame of being the freakshow on Floor 2 covered in greasy welts, but I'm also falling asleep because of the medication, so I'm the unproductive, useless, good-for-nothing freakshow on Floor 2 covered in greasy welts. :-(
After a few days of feeling sorry for myself and covering myself in grease, I'm now feeling and looking a little bit better. It's remarkable what a good whine will do for you.
I'm spending the weekend in the burbs because YG and I are taking the MG to a dance tonight, and I'll get to meet the MG's mother for the first time. I'm trying to pretend like I'm cool and collected and not nervous at all, but I am. I feel this unbelievable pressure to be perfect, to say the right things, to not make waves -- in a sense, act completely unlike myself -- so that I don't upset this woman. It gives me a little glimpse into what it must have been like to be YG for so long, and that makes me very sad. I'm trying to remember all those lessons that I used to give to executives when I did media training, and stick to them. Our main rule was "Be pleasant and a little bit boring." I have no doubt that I can be a little bit boring. I can be quite a pro. Pleasant? Eh...not so much. Interesting is probably the best word to describe how this night will be.
In other news, I finished my book: God's Politics. I highly recommend it, and loved it. I'm now reading Reading Lolita in Tehran. I bought it a while ago because it seemed like everybody was reading it, and I thought it would be entertaining in an embarassing DaVinci Code sort of way. But I'm impressed. The memoir part is interesting, but I really like what she has to say about the books. I ended up flipping through The Great Gatsby the other night after reading one of her critiques. I love books about books. When I am independently wealthy, I am going to read, read, read all the time and have tons of rooms filled with books and magazines. That part of my childhood dream has never died.
Listening to: a lot of Joshua Radin and some old Clash stuff. And eagerly anticipating the new Shins album on MONDAY! I'm embarassed to admit that I made a ridiculous playlist for driving home from work this week -- I've been working late and feeling nasty (see above: grease) -- that includes Motorhead, AC/DC, Twisted Sister and Poison. So if you saw a crazy lady in the parking lot of the Fresh Pond Whole Foods screaming out all the lyrics to "Talk Dirty to Me," that was me. I am a sad, sad human being.
What else? Not much. Work and steroids pretty much sums it up. Oh, and wasting two hours of my life watching this on Lifetime because I thought, or hoped, it might have something interesting to say. Note to self: Lifetime Television for Women = BAD.
I'm looking forward to the next couple of weeks flying by and getting my "reward" weekend in Napa. Later.
If you've known me for a while, you were around for the great painful welt incident in winter 2001 and the allergic rash incident in 2004 complete with my favorite 'roid, Prednisone. This week marked the beginning of Itchy Painful Welts 2007. I had an allergic reaction to something that is, at this point, still unknown and broke out in hives and an itchy rash EVERYWHERE. It was horrible, so I met a dermatologist at the hospital, had him take a look at me, had him determine -- AGAIN -- that I am allergic to something AGAIN, and then had him give me a topical steroid. Yes, topical. I guess the medical community frowns on giving oral 'roids if they're not needed, so for most of the week, I've been dousing myself in something with the same texture and consistency as Vaseline. Gross. Along with that, I was given a ton of Benadryl to take and ended up sleeping through most of "work at home" day on Tuesday. I woke up with my face against the keyboard, drooling. Totally and remarkably hot. And oh, did I mention that this is the busiest time of the year at work? So, not only do I get to deal with the shame of being the freakshow on Floor 2 covered in greasy welts, but I'm also falling asleep because of the medication, so I'm the unproductive, useless, good-for-nothing freakshow on Floor 2 covered in greasy welts. :-(
After a few days of feeling sorry for myself and covering myself in grease, I'm now feeling and looking a little bit better. It's remarkable what a good whine will do for you.
I'm spending the weekend in the burbs because YG and I are taking the MG to a dance tonight, and I'll get to meet the MG's mother for the first time. I'm trying to pretend like I'm cool and collected and not nervous at all, but I am. I feel this unbelievable pressure to be perfect, to say the right things, to not make waves -- in a sense, act completely unlike myself -- so that I don't upset this woman. It gives me a little glimpse into what it must have been like to be YG for so long, and that makes me very sad. I'm trying to remember all those lessons that I used to give to executives when I did media training, and stick to them. Our main rule was "Be pleasant and a little bit boring." I have no doubt that I can be a little bit boring. I can be quite a pro. Pleasant? Eh...not so much. Interesting is probably the best word to describe how this night will be.
In other news, I finished my book: God's Politics. I highly recommend it, and loved it. I'm now reading Reading Lolita in Tehran. I bought it a while ago because it seemed like everybody was reading it, and I thought it would be entertaining in an embarassing DaVinci Code sort of way. But I'm impressed. The memoir part is interesting, but I really like what she has to say about the books. I ended up flipping through The Great Gatsby the other night after reading one of her critiques. I love books about books. When I am independently wealthy, I am going to read, read, read all the time and have tons of rooms filled with books and magazines. That part of my childhood dream has never died.
Listening to: a lot of Joshua Radin and some old Clash stuff. And eagerly anticipating the new Shins album on MONDAY! I'm embarassed to admit that I made a ridiculous playlist for driving home from work this week -- I've been working late and feeling nasty (see above: grease) -- that includes Motorhead, AC/DC, Twisted Sister and Poison. So if you saw a crazy lady in the parking lot of the Fresh Pond Whole Foods screaming out all the lyrics to "Talk Dirty to Me," that was me. I am a sad, sad human being.
What else? Not much. Work and steroids pretty much sums it up. Oh, and wasting two hours of my life watching this on Lifetime because I thought, or hoped, it might have something interesting to say. Note to self: Lifetime Television for Women = BAD.
I'm looking forward to the next couple of weeks flying by and getting my "reward" weekend in Napa. Later.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Things I Should Be Writing About
There's a lot of things I should be writing about, but will more likely just link to. I should be writing more often to make my anonymous commenter happy, so I guess I'll start with that one:
* My whereabouts these days.
I am BUSY. I did a lot in NJ and NYC while I was on break, came back to MA for a few days of NYE entertainment, a wicked cold and end-of-year cleaning, and am now back at work. I got out of a trip next week to Buffalo, but I'll be in DC for two days the week of the 22nd, and then on the 30th, I leave for TWO WEEKS in California. There's a lot of moving parts, and I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed by this monster work conference. It's my first year doing this Conference so there's also that whole I don't have any idea what I'm doing thing. I remember the first year I did SUPERComm at my old job -- same feeling, same stress, lots of tears in the bathroom pretending not to be a big pussy. But every year after that, it got better because it was known stress as opposed to I'm-going-to-get-out-of-this-with-job-and-sanity-in-check? stress.
So I'll either be gone from blogging for a long while, or I'll be posting all the time because nights during business travel can be a bit boring. We'll see, anonymous commenter.
* Nancy Pelosi. One of The Nation's blogs does a better job of articulating the conflicting feelings I had about her wife/mother/grandmother photo op on her first day. I loved it, I didn't like it -- I dunno! In my reading, though, I did stumble across a blog that questioned Pelosi's feminist credibility because of the way she looked, and it just made my blood boil. Because feminism is all about making sure we all look the same. Look, bitches, I wear lipstick! Get over it!
* This book I'm reading. I absolutely love it. If you had told me a while ago that I'd be all gung ho for a book written by an Evangelical preacher, I would have assumed you were insane. If you Google Jim Wallis, you'll finds all sorts of shit-stirring stuff about him by right-wing nuts that is fun to read. I've had this book on my bookshelf for two years. I gave this book to people as Christmas gifts last year. But I never read it. I picked it up right around the time that YG and I started going to this great new church, and it's just helped me get my shit together in that compartment of my brain marked "spiritual."
* Bush, Bush, Bush, Iraq, Iraq, Iraq. I was going to just link to this story on Slate because I think it offers an excellent critique of the "new strategy" on Iraq and I basically agree with everything Fred Kaplan is saying. Link, and then call it a night. But....arghh. I'm thinking about this A LOT. And here's some of my thoughts:
-- I really did TRY to listen to his argument. Put aside my usual disgust with Bush, and listen, because this is important.
-- I agree that failure will send the region into total chaos, about the only thing I agree with the President on.
-- I believe that we have no good options in Iraq. ZERO. We have to figure out how to choose the least bad option.
-- He's seriously lost his grip on reality. He's lost the support of the people. He lost the support of his commanders on the ground so....he replaced them, with people that agree with him. Wha???
-- We can't rehash the past, and I believe that we need to find some political solutions without pointing fingers. That's logical. But I'm not logical all the time. There's a part of me (especially when I hear the president attempting to apologize for mistakes he's made) that still would love an apology for sending us into Iraq in the first place. Apologize for that mistake. You never found the WMDs and we're not safer now -- most people think we're less safe. So what was this all for?
-- People are dying. SO MANY PEOPLE are dying. THOUSANDS of people have died. 3000 soldiers, so many more Iraqis. For what?
-- What is that least bad option?
-- What can I do? How do I stop feeling so helpless about this?
I'm torn.
And now I've kind of forgotten the other mundane stuff I wanted to write about, or it seems rather silly to talk about how important my budget is right after talking about thousands of people dying, so I'll call it a night.
* My whereabouts these days.
I am BUSY. I did a lot in NJ and NYC while I was on break, came back to MA for a few days of NYE entertainment, a wicked cold and end-of-year cleaning, and am now back at work. I got out of a trip next week to Buffalo, but I'll be in DC for two days the week of the 22nd, and then on the 30th, I leave for TWO WEEKS in California. There's a lot of moving parts, and I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed by this monster work conference. It's my first year doing this Conference so there's also that whole I don't have any idea what I'm doing thing. I remember the first year I did SUPERComm at my old job -- same feeling, same stress, lots of tears in the bathroom pretending not to be a big pussy. But every year after that, it got better because it was known stress as opposed to I'm-going-to-get-out-of-this-with-job-and-sanity-in-check? stress.
So I'll either be gone from blogging for a long while, or I'll be posting all the time because nights during business travel can be a bit boring. We'll see, anonymous commenter.
* Nancy Pelosi. One of The Nation's blogs does a better job of articulating the conflicting feelings I had about her wife/mother/grandmother photo op on her first day. I loved it, I didn't like it -- I dunno! In my reading, though, I did stumble across a blog that questioned Pelosi's feminist credibility because of the way she looked, and it just made my blood boil. Because feminism is all about making sure we all look the same. Look, bitches, I wear lipstick! Get over it!
* This book I'm reading. I absolutely love it. If you had told me a while ago that I'd be all gung ho for a book written by an Evangelical preacher, I would have assumed you were insane. If you Google Jim Wallis, you'll finds all sorts of shit-stirring stuff about him by right-wing nuts that is fun to read. I've had this book on my bookshelf for two years. I gave this book to people as Christmas gifts last year. But I never read it. I picked it up right around the time that YG and I started going to this great new church, and it's just helped me get my shit together in that compartment of my brain marked "spiritual."
* Bush, Bush, Bush, Iraq, Iraq, Iraq. I was going to just link to this story on Slate because I think it offers an excellent critique of the "new strategy" on Iraq and I basically agree with everything Fred Kaplan is saying. Link, and then call it a night. But....arghh. I'm thinking about this A LOT. And here's some of my thoughts:
-- I really did TRY to listen to his argument. Put aside my usual disgust with Bush, and listen, because this is important.
-- I agree that failure will send the region into total chaos, about the only thing I agree with the President on.
-- I believe that we have no good options in Iraq. ZERO. We have to figure out how to choose the least bad option.
-- He's seriously lost his grip on reality. He's lost the support of the people. He lost the support of his commanders on the ground so....he replaced them, with people that agree with him. Wha???
-- We can't rehash the past, and I believe that we need to find some political solutions without pointing fingers. That's logical. But I'm not logical all the time. There's a part of me (especially when I hear the president attempting to apologize for mistakes he's made) that still would love an apology for sending us into Iraq in the first place. Apologize for that mistake. You never found the WMDs and we're not safer now -- most people think we're less safe. So what was this all for?
-- People are dying. SO MANY PEOPLE are dying. THOUSANDS of people have died. 3000 soldiers, so many more Iraqis. For what?
-- What is that least bad option?
-- What can I do? How do I stop feeling so helpless about this?
I'm torn.
And now I've kind of forgotten the other mundane stuff I wanted to write about, or it seems rather silly to talk about how important my budget is right after talking about thousands of people dying, so I'll call it a night.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
And Happy New Year
I'm still alive, have lots of resolutions and lots of recaps to post when the time comes. For now, I wish you a very happy new year.
ETA: I'd post the pics of YG busting out all the lyrics to Gangsta's Paradise on NYE, complete with hand gestures, but he is on a plane to Germany right now and can't grant me permission for such a thing.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas, all! I'm feeling just overwhelmed with how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends and family, and am definitely feeling the spirit of the holidays right now.
More later...after I have fully stuffed myself with wine, manicotti and butterfly shrimp...as Jesus would have wanted it.
More later...after I have fully stuffed myself with wine, manicotti and butterfly shrimp...as Jesus would have wanted it.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
It Runs In The Family
In case you think it's just me that's insane, here is my sister doing her version of performance art.
Indoor Skating
The Pussycat Dolls Move
Indoor Skating
The Pussycat Dolls Move
Friday, December 22, 2006
WARNING: Sappy Melodrama Attack
I have a lot of stuff to write about, but I'm finishing up some work stuff and my brain is fixating on one point. I get a lot of questions about who YG is, where we met, how long I've known him, what he's like, etc. I answer them, but I really don't feel the need to turn my blog into some gushy "look at how awesome my boyfriend is" diary. Ack, I have the feeling I've used that same sentence somewhere in a post before. Anyway, moving on...
I'm going home to NJ on Sat to spend the holidays with my family. YG and the MG will be joining us from Tuesday through Thursday for some NYC fun time, so I guess I never gave a lot of headspace to Christmas morning and what it would be like. I'll be home doing the same thing I've done for the past 30 years, except for the years I was married. YG will be alone. He picks up the MG at 2 p.m., but he will be alone on Christmas morning and that just makes me heart-breakingly sad because he's such a good father and I would like nothing more than for him to spend Christmas morning with his little girl. But he can't -- it's not his year. So I wanted to do something nice for him on Christmas morning to take the edge off a bit. After a fruitless morning on 1800Flowers, FTD, Edible Arrangements and a variety of other craptastic sites, I decided I don't have to GIVE anything. I just want to write about him and tell all my friends how great he is because that's not something I usually do, and it feels all "ew, gross, boys!"...a little bit anyway.
Note: If you happen to BE YG and are reading this, you need to stop until Christmas morning. Plus, I'm stealing gratiutously from my Christmas card and it would lame if you read this before that
The Abridged Version:
I met YG at one of my previous jobs. I worked with lots and lots of men, and I was married, but there was something about him that cut through the clutter. Something that told me that I should be friends with him because he seemed like a genuine person, in a world filled with kind of crappy people or at best, people that don't quite know themselves. We became work friends, and then became outside-of-work friends. When our respective marriages started to fall apart, he was one person that could relate to what I was going through and didn't judge me when I was leaning in one direction on marriage/divorce and then would seemingly do a 180 the next day. He just got it.
For a while, we lost touch and didn't speak to each other, as you do with work friends after you move on to another company. Sometimes you realize you don't have much in common with those work friends after you move on. When we started talking again, I realized that he would always be a good friend, and not just a work person that I sometimes exchange emails with. And now we live in the same State.
We both were seperated. We both started sniffing around each other. We started dating. I fell HARD.
At the beginning, I was really prolific. I felt like I had words and feelings just tumbling out of me that I had to melodramatically proclaim to the world and to him. I wrote lots of long letters, I did a lot of journaling, I talked to a lot of people. I had been unhappy for so long that I felt that the world needed to hear my testimony. Yeah. * eye roll*
And things are different now. I'm not floating around like a poet anymore, but I do have this FEELING of things in my life being right and happy and GOOD. As a writer, how do you say that? How do you make that real? I am happy. YG makes me happy. It isn't pretty, it isn't poetic -- it's just true.
In the past year, I've gone through a tumultous and heart-wrenching divorce, a family death, a major slump and depression last spring, the soul-sucking numbness of my last job, the ups and downs of adjusting to being part of the MG's life, and a major location change from New Jersey to Massachusetts.
And he's always been there. And he's always been cool. He's supported me, he's had my back and most importantly, he's called me on my bullshit when I act like the little fucker we all know I can be. I know I can count on him, I trust him, and I feel safe with him, and I hope he understands how much of a big freakin' deal that is.
To YG (a repeat, but I liked it, and I hope you're reading this on Christmas morning): I think I knew I loved you early in our relationship, but I wasn't really sure what that meant. It was fun and exciting and a welcome breath of fresh air after all we had been through with our previous spouses, but it doesn't compare to now. The more I get to know you, the more shit we have to deal with together, the more I change and the more I see you grow, the more I realize how lucky and blessed I am. Thank you for being you. I hate that you have to be alone this morning, but I want you to know that I'm thinking about you, the MG is thinking about you, your family and friends are thinking about you, even some strangers to you are thinking about you -- and that we all think you're just wonderful. Now go read the comments section to see what I mean.
To everyone else: Don't hold this sappiness against me. I'll go back to scaring children and small animals after the holidays are over.
I'm going home to NJ on Sat to spend the holidays with my family. YG and the MG will be joining us from Tuesday through Thursday for some NYC fun time, so I guess I never gave a lot of headspace to Christmas morning and what it would be like. I'll be home doing the same thing I've done for the past 30 years, except for the years I was married. YG will be alone. He picks up the MG at 2 p.m., but he will be alone on Christmas morning and that just makes me heart-breakingly sad because he's such a good father and I would like nothing more than for him to spend Christmas morning with his little girl. But he can't -- it's not his year. So I wanted to do something nice for him on Christmas morning to take the edge off a bit. After a fruitless morning on 1800Flowers, FTD, Edible Arrangements and a variety of other craptastic sites, I decided I don't have to GIVE anything. I just want to write about him and tell all my friends how great he is because that's not something I usually do, and it feels all "ew, gross, boys!"...a little bit anyway.
Note: If you happen to BE YG and are reading this, you need to stop until Christmas morning. Plus, I'm stealing gratiutously from my Christmas card and it would lame if you read this before that
The Abridged Version:
I met YG at one of my previous jobs. I worked with lots and lots of men, and I was married, but there was something about him that cut through the clutter. Something that told me that I should be friends with him because he seemed like a genuine person, in a world filled with kind of crappy people or at best, people that don't quite know themselves. We became work friends, and then became outside-of-work friends. When our respective marriages started to fall apart, he was one person that could relate to what I was going through and didn't judge me when I was leaning in one direction on marriage/divorce and then would seemingly do a 180 the next day. He just got it.
For a while, we lost touch and didn't speak to each other, as you do with work friends after you move on to another company. Sometimes you realize you don't have much in common with those work friends after you move on. When we started talking again, I realized that he would always be a good friend, and not just a work person that I sometimes exchange emails with. And now we live in the same State.
We both were seperated. We both started sniffing around each other. We started dating. I fell HARD.
At the beginning, I was really prolific. I felt like I had words and feelings just tumbling out of me that I had to melodramatically proclaim to the world and to him. I wrote lots of long letters, I did a lot of journaling, I talked to a lot of people. I had been unhappy for so long that I felt that the world needed to hear my testimony. Yeah. * eye roll*
And things are different now. I'm not floating around like a poet anymore, but I do have this FEELING of things in my life being right and happy and GOOD. As a writer, how do you say that? How do you make that real? I am happy. YG makes me happy. It isn't pretty, it isn't poetic -- it's just true.
In the past year, I've gone through a tumultous and heart-wrenching divorce, a family death, a major slump and depression last spring, the soul-sucking numbness of my last job, the ups and downs of adjusting to being part of the MG's life, and a major location change from New Jersey to Massachusetts.
And he's always been there. And he's always been cool. He's supported me, he's had my back and most importantly, he's called me on my bullshit when I act like the little fucker we all know I can be. I know I can count on him, I trust him, and I feel safe with him, and I hope he understands how much of a big freakin' deal that is.
To YG (a repeat, but I liked it, and I hope you're reading this on Christmas morning): I think I knew I loved you early in our relationship, but I wasn't really sure what that meant. It was fun and exciting and a welcome breath of fresh air after all we had been through with our previous spouses, but it doesn't compare to now. The more I get to know you, the more shit we have to deal with together, the more I change and the more I see you grow, the more I realize how lucky and blessed I am. Thank you for being you. I hate that you have to be alone this morning, but I want you to know that I'm thinking about you, the MG is thinking about you, your family and friends are thinking about you, even some strangers to you are thinking about you -- and that we all think you're just wonderful. Now go read the comments section to see what I mean.
To everyone else: Don't hold this sappiness against me. I'll go back to scaring children and small animals after the holidays are over.
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