December Happenings....

My friend Agatha and her family (husband + cutest little girl in the world) came to visit last weekend. After speaking about blogs with her...how awkward/weird/crazy it feels to share anything too personal...I am not sure how much I want to share about the weekend:) BUT, I can say, it was so fun to have them here with us. It went by fast, and we didn't do a ton of stuff, but not doing a lot and just spending quality time together is probably what made it so nice. Lots of laughter, in part thanks to the cute little girl referenced above:) Lots of eating. Lots of talking. I want to live next door to her:(

Today I got my hair cut and highlighted. For the price, I could have flown Derek and I to California to visit. You decide if I am joking or exaggerating or not....I do live in New York. Some things are super cheap, some things not so much. But, it was a better highlight job than the last. In September, I couldn't get in to my regular place before my friend Mieke's wedding, so I went somewhere new. The cut was great, but the highlights came back a little bit orange in certain streaks. It wasn't bad, just not how I like it. But my hair looks all back to normal now and it was soooo relaxing. Then I went and bought a dresser/changing unit combo for the baby's room. I really like it and I should be able to fit lots of stuff into it. When I went to buy it, I walked through the farmer's market at Union Square -- which during the holidays is also a craft market. Literally, they have about 200 booths of stuff set up. Some of it is really nice, other stuff you can definitely pass on. But I realized that I SHOULD have taken Agatha & her family there. Ag -- you would have liked it. Well, as long as we could have gone when it wasn't so crowded. But they have so much stuff that I think you would have liked. And I thought your sister could sell her purses there -- that was my first thought:)

Tonight a close friend of ours is having a Christmas party. We've had one the past two years, but didn't put one together this year. And, it would have paled in comparison to this one. He (our friend) rented out the "Milk and Cookies" bakery in the West Village from 9-12 so we have the whole place to ourselves....cocktails, christmas cookies, and caroling is what he is offering. Hopefully, the caroling he just threw in there b/c it sounded good. I don't mind holiday music in the background, but I don't think I am up for live carols in a small space. But it should be fun. And, I bought new corduroys that actually FIT (they are on me now) that I am actually excited to wear. This is monumental. The past month I have been wearing clothes that cover me, but that I don't particularly love. Hand me down maternity clothes (which I APPRECIATE, given how expensive everything is!) or regular clothes that still fit, but just not quite the same.

My Gestational Diabetes test came back with a reading of 121. The doctor is not going to have me take the follow up 3-hour test, as she says it just as easily could have been 120 or 119 (120 being the cut off). I'll just take the 1-hour test again in a couple weeks to make sure it doesn't change. I explained that between the time I took the test and when I saw her for the results, I think I went on a sugar binge b/c I was afraid I wouldn't be able to have dessert the rest of the pregnancy (or, if my husband has his way, because he would get worried if I had gestational diabetes, the rest of my life). She laughed at me. Hard. She also called me "quite the pisser" -- as during the 24-hour urine test I took produced more urine than any reading she has ever seen. Funny. But this is one reason why I like her. She has a great, encouraging, calming bedside manner, but at the same time she could be a truck-driver if not a doctor. She is a crackup. Anyway, I have 11 weeks to go. This frightens me. We have no car seat, no crib, no BABYSITTER, and basically no clue. But, I do have some really adorable, soft blankets and a burp cloth that is too pretty to use:) Not to mention lots and lots and lots of hand-me-down baby socks.

Deuce played like crazy this morning at the dog park. There were only 2 other dogs there, which is so rare, but one of the dogs he loves. A 2 1/2 year old german shepherd who plays JUST like him. They wrestled and ran like crazy, and talked to each other the whole time. (Laurie, if you are reading this, it was sort of like seeing Bear & Deuce play in California). Deuce is a quiet dog, but he likes to be a little vocal when he plays. This works well when the other dog has the same style. He was so happy. Then, on the short ride home, he fell asleep with his head out the window. It was too cute.

I go to Colorado for the holiday next Wednesday. Derek and I are betting whether my grandmother is going to tell me I look great or that I have "gotten too big" (this was a big concern of hers when I got pregnant). Really, either statement could come out of her mouth but guaranteed it will be the second sentence after she says hi.

Is It Really December?

November flew by. Which is both a bad and a good thing. I am still grieving from the loss of my old puppy, but the moments of uncontrollable tears are fewer. But the ache in the heart of missing someone you love so much is still there. I suppose that doesn't go away, or at least I am not expecting it too.

November was filled with a visit from my mom, our third baby gift from her and my dad (a Micralite Toro stroller -- the first was a baby bather, the second a Baby Bjorn, both from close friends), a trip down to DC to introduce Deuce to our friends' newly adopted dog, Blue (they had a great time on this playdate we traveled 250 miles for!), my husband becoming vegetarian after successfully eating a 20-ounce hamburger in DC (getting his picture on the wall, embarrassing), lots of work, a really really really bad cold, my gestational diabetes test and a 24-hour urine test (please tell me, who said pee-ing into the jug for 24 hours was easy????), birthday parties for a couple friends, hanging out with neighbors watching college football, finding out some close friends' home is on the market as they prep for their move to Canada (they warned me, but I am still selfishly devastated), and finding out where my sister and friends Mike & Lauren are planning the "baby shower" (aka, party) for Derek and I. We knew it was in the works because I knew the date and was helping some family get reservations at the B&B close to our home. But they wouldn't tell me where it was at. But know I know, Union Hall (check out www.unionhallny.com), which I had suspected. And I really appreciate all they have done since I know I am in a pain in the ass with these things. I really didn't want a baby shower ("I am not the kind of girl to sit around opening gifts with other girls"), and really resisted ("Besides, I have more male friends than female friends"), and was adament that they didn't have to do anything ("Honestly, I'll be too hard to please."). But they know me well and seemed to have planned the perfect get together. Both Derek and I are really excited for it. With cocktails and mocktails and appetizers and bocci ball and the first guest to RSVP was my friend who has a major gambling addiction and bypassed Vegas for the party:) What a gift. Something to look forward to after Christmas.

Meanwhile, we get a visit from my dearest friend Agatha this weekend:) YEAH! And her husband and baby girl. And I am hoping the cold gets a little less cold so they can enjoy the trip from sunny SoCal. I can't wait to see them:)

I thought had some pictures to upload....but now none seem too appropriate or good. I did get my favorite picture of Butter (or one of them) on a CD and enlarged, so because I still miss him terribly, here is a picture of my Butter. Oh, and another, of him and my nephew. And one of Baby Boy -- who at 26 weeks is measuring about 2 weeks ahead of schedule. Which is consistent with how large my stomach feels.

Butter

Butter came into our family on December 4, 2000. He lost him on November 2, 2007.

He loved car rides, and hotels, and road trips. He loved other dogs
and other cats, big or small. He loved to lick my ice-cream bowl, and
to chase the white-water at the beach. He wasn't a swimmer, but he
could wade in the water on chest-level forever. There was never a
house he stayed at that he wouldn't try to take over the bed, and when
you walked in the house after being out, he would make sure he kissed
you right on the mouth. The cheek, the hand, the arm would not do --
it had to be the mouth. He loved his toys, and he loved children. He loved to wrestle with your arm, while he lay on his back, making sure to lick it any time it got close to his mouth. He
loved Deuce. And his favorite place to be was with me and Derek.
There was nothing that made him happier than us being all together.

It was sudden. Despite his age, and some minor health issues, we
weren't expecting it. I expected to spend the day at the vet, making
sure whatever was bothering him was fixed. Sadly, he died in the car
just blocks away from our house and blocks away from the vet. I think
he chose his time though -- he was with us both, and his best friend
Deuce was at home chewing on a big bone since he didn't get to come
with us. I think he also knew the vet could maybe help him a little
bit, for a little while, but we would have been faced with the
decision of whether to put him to sleep, and Butter knew better than
anyone I could not have done it.

Despite my panic and my screams -- "Derek, make him breath. He has to breath. He is not breathing. He is supposed to breath. MAKE him breath. Let me do CPR. He is supposed to breath. He is not supposed to die. Make him breath. He is supposed to stay with us. He has to breath...." -- it was peaceful. He was peaceful. There was the smallest sound, and I turned around, and saw him choke just a little. His eyes were open, but I could see that his soul was just barely there. And then it wasn't. He went peacefully. He was a gentle giant, and peaceful was his way with everything.

We had him for the latter 7 years of his long life, and I like to
believe they were by far better than the first 6 years without us.
Every single day we had him, he became more trusting, more open, more
comfortable, more loving. He never stopped learning how good life
really was, and he never stopped enjoying it. Just two weeks ago I
woke up after a few hours of sleep b/c I heard some rustling. It
turned out that Butter & Deuce were playing tug-a-war with a toy. It
was the first time ever -- ever -- that Butter played tug-a-war. He
used to have to hide the toys when we first got Deuce b/c Butter's
food aggression spilled over onto toys, and he didn't quite know how
to share. Eventually, he learned to share but if Deuce tried to play
tug-a-way, Butter would just let him have the toy. He was a little
scared of his old instincts coming back to him. Just two weeks ago,
he discovered that he could do it. I stayed up watching them play for
the next twenty minutes. Never had I felt more proud or more content.

Just two days ago, he was playing with his favorite stuffed animal bone, threatening to take it out on a walk with us. Just last night, he smiled while he asked (by wagging his tail and staring at us) to help him climb into bed. Just this morning I was laying down next to him, trying to get him to eat, petting his sore bones, telling him I loved him. When he got in the car, he was breathing. Two blocks later he wasn't.

My favorite pictures of him aren't on this computer, or any computer. Most are in my mind. The ones that are memorialized are framed, taken with our 35 mm camera. Him at my parents house the summer we got married, looking up at me with a smile on his face, thanking me with his eyes and his tongue for letting him spend the summer with us. With my parents, with their two dogs -- one of whom, Sneaker, he now gets to play with again without the constraints of arthritis or tumors or cancer or whatever they silently and bravely and courageously faced while alive, with no complaints. Another photo was taken two years later, of him in a hotel room in San Francisco, with a more content smile than I had ever before seen. Telling us how fun the road trip was, how happy he was to show Deuce the life of a city dog. How much he loved the heavenly Kimpton Group bed and hotel. It is so close up that you can see every detail of his face, all the expression that he carried. And from that same trip, there is a picture of him on the beach in Carmel, at sunset. He is laying facing me, the wave break to his back. Deuce close to him, but slightly behind him. He is happy, he is content. He knows his life is good. He wants to make ours even better. You see it all in that picture.

There was not a day we had him that he did not make my life happier, more complete, more rewarding. He was the highlight of every day - he was my pride and joy. He was the gentle giant that showed everyone around us what a little love can do, and how much it could change a life. He showed Derek and I that we knew how to love, and taught us that there is nothing more important than being together. I will never forget his determination to stay in one spot if we ever tried to split up and walk separate ways. "I will not move unless you are both together." Even when his backlegs had no muscle, his determination was still no match for us. But as long as we were together, walking next to each other, he would gladly walk miles and travel anywhere. His family gave him all he needed to be happy, to be content. I will carry that with me forever.

And I will miss him forever.

Recovering from a long night....

We had a wedding in Voorhees, NJ -- a little outside Philly, a little outside Atlantic City. If you can imagine what a wedding a little outside south Philly and a little outside Atlantic City would be like - it was exactly that. The place was just about the cheesiest place I have been to -- REALLY cheesy. But the wedding was fun and the bride (my long time friend) very happy. It was the first time I met her husband, and he seemed really really nice. And really really normal. Which, if you knew the bride, my long time friend, you would be surprised as Derek and I were. I am on antibiotics right now, which have really knocked me out, so by the time we got home last night (it is about a 1 1/2 hour drive with no traffic), I was knocked out. And I had to cancel my plans tonight because I am trying to listen to my body and I just am so exhausted.

We also had a wedding reception last week to go to. Whole other story. Maybe the first party I have been to since college that I knew as soon as I walked in that hard drugs would be done by some. And the crowd was split b/t those that would be doing the hard drugs and those that clearly would not -- me, Derek, our friends Mike & Lauren, and two gay couples. If anyone needed to decipher which group was which, my belly was a clear indication. It was the first time we met that groom as well. He was nice enough, although I didn't talk to him that much. There's more to the story of that wedding. Bride is not pregnant, but there is a specific reason in addition to love that the marriage occurred. I won't say more publicly.

Speaking of pregnancy, it is not what I pictured. I always thought I would just keep on working out (although with less intensity). My day to day life would not change that much, at least during these nine months. I'd feel generally fine. HA. I threw up every day through week 17. Some days there after. Once the constant nausea left me, I've had migraines and what was thought to be a UTI (only my second one ever). A bad one. So I am on antibiotics that are making me exhausted. But the doctor called today and she said that while she does think I have a minor UTI, the discomfort is more likely the placement of the baby. If I walk AT ALL -- take 2 steps -- I have to pee. If I am sitting down, it is fairly better. She wants me to do some massaging to try to get the baby to change positions. Because, literally, the past 10 days I have cried twice while walking to the subway just b/c I can't take it anymore (the feeling of having to pee while walking) and I don't cry easily from physical pain or discomfort. Actually, the only time I cried from physical pain was when I tore every muscle in my left hip flexor and hamstring -- and even then I am not quite so sure it was from physical pain. So the thought of the long/moderate walks that would replace my runs? Ha. The thought of getting through a 60 or 90 minute yoga class? Ha. The thought of doing my body sculpting classes, with no or very light weights. Ha. I was giving myself too much credit before, and pregnancy too little credit. Trust me, I know it is worth it in the end. I realize that. But I am missing one of the things I really really enjoy -- short, intense workouts. I can't even do short bursts of activity with absolutely no intensity. Please, please, please baby....move just a little to give my bladder some room.

(Some might wonder if I am still walking Butter and Deuce. Of course. Long walks and then trips to the dog park on the weekend. And help lift Butter up the stairs. It is not their fault that I feel this way....and I won't make them sufffer for it.)

A Little Too Late

Butter and Deuce found a dead dog this morning. I cried. And cried. And cried. Some neighbors helped me.

That is the short story. The long story has holes in it, because we can only presume what happened. I took the dogs to the park for about 1 hour, and then I stopped at Old Navy to get some jeans or pants or something. It took a while longer than I thought it would, since the maternity pants all looked liked crap and then I figured I would just get a bigger size regular pant, but had to find the right fitting jeans. And I was reminded of why I prefer expensive jeans when I could not find any that fit my body type. But of course, I am not going to spend $170 on a pair of expensive jeans knowing I am going to grow out of them quickly, and hopefully only where them for a little while on the way back down. Anyway, so the dogs were waiting for me a little longer than I meant for them to.....But they slept in the car, and it was cool outside, so no worries.

Then we parked outside our home. They both PULLED me to this car across the street. Very unlike Butter at this stage, and unlike them both after a good trip to the dog park. I looked under the car and saw a puppy - probablty 9 monts old? - with its eyes open and mouth open, and tongue kind of hanging out. And even though I knew it was dead, I really really really really wanted it to be alive so I could help.

I rushed the dogs into our building, and then came back out just with my cell phone and car keys. I touched the puppy, and found out what I already knew. I just started crying immediately. It's poor eyes were open. It was not injured -- it clearly was not hit by a car or anything. And it had a collar on -- a new, pink collar. I hoped that there was a number on it that I could call, and the puppy's name. But there wasn't. She wasn't dirty -- she was not a street dog. She was someone's dog.

A man walking his dog helped me, and was very nice and empathetic while remaining detached and composed (how do people remain detached? I can never can.). Two young men on the street also helped. One had seen the dog the night before. A girl had dropped her off to someone's apartment in his building to be taken care of. Another girl who lives in that building came out, and said she saw the dog outside last night, peeing blood. My guess is that the person who was supposed to take care of this dog put it outside because it was sick -- and didn't want the dog peeing blood in the house. I could be wrong, but my gut tells me that is what happened. I wish we would have seen the dog last night. I would have helped it. I would have taken it to the vet. It obviously was sick, and didn't go too far despite being abandoned outside. It kills me to think that it just laid down under this car and died, in pain. I am so mad about it.

So what do you do with a dead dog? What I did was cry, and call Derek's friend Manny, who works for sanitation and would know what to do. And I left a sobbing message on his voice mail. The man who was helping me was able to get a hold of animal control, who transferred him to sanitation, who said they would come get the dog. The two young men put the dog into a bag, and I cried. They tried to make me smile, and in a way they did because they were upset that someone clearly just left the dog out there too. But I just kept crying.

When Butter dies, I don't want to put him into a bag. I don't want to call animal control or sanitation. It felt so inhumane, and so sad. It felt like it was inappropriate to grieve, but the dog deserved someone to grieve for her.

All my energy has been sucked out. I know the puppy was dead for longer than just one or two hours. She probably died in the middle of the night -- so even this morning when I left for the park, had I parked in that direction -- it would have been too late. I still wish I would have found her when she was still breathing. It might have been helpless at that point -- but at least she would have known the touch of someone who really wanted to help her.

Just To Touch Base...

I haven't blogged in a while. To answer the questions -- no, I have not given up on it. Should I add a "yet" to that answer? Probably. Because I probably one day will. But not quite yet.

I have nothing really to post about. But here are some updates and thoughts:

*I saw In the Valley of Elah today. Very good. Very sad. Very insightful. Tommy Lee Jones stepped out of his box - he played an excellent role. In moments, I felt the movie was predictable, but I never felt that was a negative.

*We also saw The Brave One last weekend with some friends, while out in East Hampton. Horrible. Absolutely horrible.

*East Hampton -- very pretty, very peaceful. Very expensive.

*I am approaching 18 weeks of pregnancy. I made a turn about 10 days ago from throwing up every day (numerous times) to only throwing up maybe 3 times total in the past 10 days. This still isn't fun, but it's a start.

*I've read some interesting - almost noteworthy books - recently. Now, I can't remember their names. I am drawing a blank. I am currently reading "Loving Frank" -- historical fiction about the relationship between Frank Lloyd Wright and his married mistress, Mamah Cheney. Just started, but so far it is decent. I've got three others ready to read once I finish this one.

*I read a very good book and I can't remember the title to save my life -- and I am too lazy to go downstairs to find it. Where The Crow Flies? Maybe that is it. It is about a murder that happens in a small military town in Canada during the Cold War, and the numerous families it impacts. Portions of the book on the Cold War were a little tedious -- but necessary to make many of the other events make sense and make them believable.

*Was in Philadelphia for work most of this week. We coordinated a conference for the general counsel of each of the 32 teams. It was nice to meet many them in person - as I speak to many of them on the phone almost daily and do lots of work for them. Interesting to put faces to names, and see if "in person" personalities match up with email/phone personalties. Some don't. Some do. It was also exhausting. I got home last night at 6:45 and fell asleep by 7:00. And slept soundly through the night, first by myself, then for a while Derek was next to me, then when I fully woke up this morning Deuce had replaced him.

*Some days I hate my job, some days it is bearable, other days I thoroughly enjoy it. I have no more insight than that. I am trying to figure out if I can make the enjoyable days occur more frequently.

*Ah, I also read a book (memoir -- am I spelling that right or do I have the o/i reversed?) "First They Killed My Father," about a Cambodian family. It was excellent. Some have said the market has become too saturated with stories regarding the impact of war on family and on children. I disagree. This was an excellent book and excellent story.

*I am trying to pick a place to vacation next summer. Somewhere domestic. The following year I'd like to either go to South Africa or Vietnam. Derek says now he doesn't want to do either, but that will change by 2009. But for 2008 - I am thinking a house on a beach somewhere - probably east coast, although I wouldn't rule out San Diego. We haven't been back to SD since we moved back here in 2005. But I would also like to go somewhere new. Who knows.

*I'm tired of Grey's Anatomy. I felt like I just keep watching the same story. I think I would enjoy going back to CSI more, if I have to watch television on Thursday nights. Which apparently I do.

*At my last doctor appt. (16 weeks), I had gained 8 1/2 lbs total during my pregnancy. Most of that came b/t 12-16 weeks. I still don't look obviously pregnant, just obviously chubby (and I was about 10 lbs. heavier than I have been in 10 years right before I got pregnant). Derek thinks I look beautiful, and he likes to point out that my hips and thighs are starting to "show pregnancy" as well as my stomach. I ALMOST want to kill him - at least with a vicious glance - when he says this, but then I remember how excited he is and how worried he was when I had only gained 1 lb the first doctor appt.

*I read "A Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy." I was not as enchanted with the book as every other woman I know. This worries me, but I don't know why.

*We've got weddings to go to for the next two weekends. One here in the city, one in south Jersey. Both should be interesting, as the brides to be both used to be certified crazy, if not still are.

*Butter and Deuce got baths this week. They smell soooooo good. And they went to the dog park today to play, so are so content. I am going to go downstairs and join them......waiting for Derek to bring home some Thai food.

Weekend Update

We had a great weekend. For Derek's 40th birthday, I had surprised him by taking him to see Stevie Wonder at the Apollo. It was hard to out-do that last year. For his 42nd birthday, thanks to Dave and Roxanne's presense (and fun!) and Lauren and Mike joining us, we had a great time. Dinner was awesome. They accomodated us so nicely. We had an extra person with us, and they made sure that they were able to give us the one table that could accomodate seven people. The food was delicious, the waiter knowledgable but not intrusive. They didn't rush us. The conversation was great, with lots of laughter and interesting thoughts. Just a couple pictures....








We saw SuperBad yesterday. It was okay. More sophmoric than I expected. Preferred Knocked Up as the "comedy of the season," but certainly laughed and could relate to awkward adolescent memories.

We had our first sonogram today. About 11 1/2 weeks along. Derek was freaking out because the baby was moving a lot (doing what appeared to be "high jumps" from one side of my uterus to the other) but wouldn't move into the position the doctor wanted to get a measurement of the neck and fluid by the neck. Derek was very worried that this was "abnormal." I had to have him do deep breaths and assure him it was no big deal. By the end, the baby flipped around and got in just the right position.




Oh, and the doctor and technician both confirmed it is a boy.

New Blog Theme?

I described the way morning sickness feels to my friend Brad as "The feeling you have after having one too many Jack and Coke's. And having that feeling last for three months." He said, finally, he understood.

He then asked, after I told him how hungry you get, how hungry can you really be? I explained, "Imagine knowing you were going to Peter Lugar's [excellent steak place] for dinner. And you had a late night poker game the night before [he is a gambling addict], then slept late and woke up late for your basketball tournament, so you rushed to it, played basketball all day, were late to get ready for dinner so rushed to do that, on your way to Peter Lugar's realized you hadn't eaten all day and are starving. And, you are salivating at the mouth for a medium-rare filet mignon. And then you get there, and you are pretty sure you can barely wait to sit down and have them at least put bread down on the table, and they tell you there is a 45-60 minute delay despite having reservations." And it is the hunger you feel in the 59th minute of waiting that equates to the hunger you feel throughout the day when pregnant. He said, finally, he understood.

So he has asked that I "create" a blog that explains pregnancy in "man's terms" as opposed to just layman's terms. He thinks I can have a following. I doubt it, but I said every now and then I would try to explain what the hell I feel so that thickheaded men like him may understand. He said his wife would one day be grateful.

Meanwhile, So You Think You Can Dance has come to a season end. I love that show. Sabra won. She is good. All four final four were good. But Sarah has my favorite throughout and I noticed that when the choreographer's each picked their favorite dance of the season, she was in the large majority. This clearly means I should have been a choreographer, not a lawyer. Clearly:)

Tomorrow is Derek's birthday. Our friends Dave and Roxanne are coming up from DC tonight, and we are going to dinner with Mike and Lauren to Blue Ribbon (check out www.blueribbonrestaurants.com). It is supposed to be some of the best food in NYC, and gets lots of rave reviews. Yum.

Moments

Our life changes in moments. We go through those moments unsuspecting, and were it not for 20-20 hindsight we wouldn't know their significance. But they accumulate. They snowball. They provide little bits of drama and emotion, and eventually insight. Insight into others, into ourselves, into how we fit in this world. Insight into what we want, and what we don't want.

There is the moment you witness your older sister take the blame for something you did, without even glancing your way. The moment you hear a "crack" that is your little brother's skull after you were supposed to catch him. The moment you see your dad and your grandfather fighting, both drunk. The moment you see your father crying, and the moment you see your mother crying, and the first moment you actually understand why the tears are coming. There is the moment you meet your best friend and think he is a huge dork. There is the moment you believe you are beautiful. There is the moment you laugh with the one group of girlfriends you have ever really felt tight with. The moment you accept that you get a long better with men than with women (generally) when it comes to friendships. The moment you realize that you should not beat yourself up over that. There is the moment you are dreaming of your big time crush, and he calls. The moment you realize you've made a mistake that you have to live with. The moment you realize all the potential inside of you. The moment you realize you have let someone down, and the moment that someone is yourself. The moment a friend lets you down. The moment you realize you have exceeded expectations. The moment you overhear someone say something nice about you. The moment when you overhear someone say something mean about you. The moment you overhear a friend say something mean about you. The moment you actually look at how long it is going to take to pay back your student loan debt. The moment you find a lump in your breast. The moment you find out someone you love, dearly, has died. The moment you get your first pay check from a full time job. The moment you decide to do things on your own. The moment a crowd cheers for you. The moment you get your dream job, and you are still left wanting more, or something else -- you aren't sure which.

Then there is the moment you walk into the bathroom after feeding your dogs and cleaning up the kitchen, because before you fed the dogs and cleaned the kitchen you peed on a little stick, and you see the "+" sign on the stick. There is that moment you find out you are pregnant for the first time.

And unlike many (but not all) of the other moments, your first thought, with a smile, is "Oh, sh**." A thought that is really more of a feeling, and a feeling that you feel so strongly that you inadvertantly say it outloud. And quite different from the "Oh, SH**" feeling you might have had at 18, 20, 24, or even 29. And your dogs look at you with a sideways cock of the head, maybe suspecting that this moment might impact them, too. And you figure you should call your husband and let him know the news. Which really shouldn't be a surprise as the two of you knew what you were doing, but is a surprise because neither of you quite believed it would result in this. And he is naked in a locker room next to a naked stanger, and he has the impulse to tell the stranger who is naked that his wife is pregnant, because he wants to tell someone the news face to face, but he refrains. Thank god.

And the moment doesn't really seem that significant, not for a while. Because life doesn't immediately change. You just know that it will. And you start anticipating the changes and the excitement -- something that clearly wasn't your focus the actual moment this whole chain of events was set into place.

And then it does change. And you hate your friends who are currently pregnant as well and who do not have the pleasure of experiencing "morning sickness," which really is a misnomer if there ever was one. And you have a moment where you realize that morning sickness feels uncannily similar to a 3-month long (if you are lucky) constant bad hangover. And you remember the long ago moment when you learned what a terrible hangover feels like, and the consequences you pay for drinking. But you run through every moment of your life and can remember no moment when someone told you that pregnancy might make you feel the same way. That would have been an important moment.

So you are getting through the days by counting down the weeks until this "hangover" should be disappearing....two, maybe three, maybe four weeks to go. And you just get through the days as gracefully as you can considering that you really feel nauseated every minute and then only thing that makes you feel better is eating and/or sleeping, but eating is an iffy thing even though you can't stop, and sleeping just isn't an option Monday-Friday, 8:30-6:30. Or so. And you remind yourself constantly not to complain, because hopefully there are no moments that break your heart after you survive these first few months. You know stories of such moments, and you know we are all vulnerable to those moments, and all you can do is hope that you never have such a moment that brings you insight that you really don't want. Because it could happen, and you know it, so you just have to roll with the punches. You are just a little over 10 weeks along in this 40 week - give or take, hopefully -- excursion. You just have to take what comes your way.

Meanwhile, you have moments that questions run through your mind. What does a girl who really detests baby showers and who has mostly male friends do when her mom and/or friend(s) want to plan her a baby shower? Does a baby really need brightly colored things (stroller, car seats, crib sheets), or is it okay to get the cute chocolate colored ones that I have seen? How am I going to carry my 110 pound thirteen year old dog (who is probably 14, if not soon to be 14) up the stairs to my condo when I am 8 months pregnant? (I will find a way - by the way - I owe him that much, at the very least). Is there really any way I can prevent my nose from getting bigger - like my sister's did - during this whole pregnancy thing (I know, I know....it goes back to normal afterwards...but still). Am I going to be a good mom? Will our child get Derek's playfulness or my seriousness? Will s/he get my wit or Derek's clown like humor? And how in the hell have women survived this "morning sickness" for so long with so few complaints??????? Please, someone answer me that.

All the while, you keep having other moments. The moment your close friends tell you they are moving to Canada. The moment you realize if you had to do it all over again, you would stay in dance class and try out for "So You Think You Can Dance" and then after your dancing career be a part time choreographer and a vet. The moment you stand up for yourself at work. The moment you hear your nephew make up a sweet little song about you. Yet another moment when someone with an ulterior motive exposes themselves. The moment when you realize how much in common you have with a neighbor. The moment you try to figure out why someone from work is surprised to see you at a party of a mutual work friend. The moment your husband admits he is wrong about something you are fighting about, and he is not admitting that just to appease you but he really gets it. The moment you decide to just live in the moment.

Work from Home

The universe gave me a gift today.

I have been having to emotionally psych myself up to get to work each day the past couple of weeks. Literally, coach myself to get myself up and out of bed and to work. Sounds depressing doesn't it? I guess it sort of is, but always once I get there life is different and rosier and I am happy enough to be there. I think I am just dealing with the reality of having to work every day. That is exhausting to me. I've been doing it for a while, of course, so not sure why I have hit this crisis now. But in any event, I've just been in this mode of dreaming of only working part time or working for myself or working from home. Something other than the the "9 to 5" grind, which as we all know is never just a 9 to 5 grind.

So thank you, NYC subway system, for failing us today. Thank you! I woke up late, sent my immediate supervisor an email letting her know that I would be a little late (like 15 minutes....I debated even sending the email since no one really cares if I am 15 minutes "late" or not...but anyway). Then I leave and put myself out on the hot humid hot humid humid hot humid street to walk to the subway....

And I notice. There are TONS of cars on the street. Tons. Does being 15 minutes later in my commute really expose me to a busier time for car traffic, I wonder? And, there is tons of foot traffic too. Going away from the subway stop I am walking towards. Hhhmm....I think this is a lively day in Brooklyn. But I don't think of much else, because I did not turn on the news or read the paper this morning.

Then I get to the subway, and I see a cop standing at the top of the steps and everyone walking away from the subway. "Did something happen to the subway?" I ask. "The rain." The rain. Does he mean the rain that came down in the torrential thunderstorm that happened between about 4am and 7am this morning? The lightning that lit up the sky and that my dogs were fairly certain was hitting our house, and the thunder that came along instantaneously with it...you mean, the rain that came with that lightning and thunder. You mean the rain that came with the lightning and thunder that made my little big dog Deuce alternate between hiding in the bathtub and hiding underneath our bed, and cry the entire time he was hiding....you mean that rain? "The rain?" I ask, wondering how this rain could impact the subway. He said the subway is flooded, and a transitor went out. "So you mean the B and the Q lines aren't running." "Yes, and the 2, the 3, the 4, the 5, the A, the C, the F are not running either." Oh, you mean every subway that is remotely close to me (as in every subway but one connecting Brooklyn to Manhattan) is not running. Wonderful!!!

So I tredge home. I call my supervisor, and agree to work from home. No big deal, people I work with do it all the time. I am drenched in sweat, b/c did I mention it is HOT. And so I am working from home, and it is WONDERFUL! I know most people walking home from the subway were taking it as a day to not work at all. I am not quite them, but happy enough just to be doing the work I am doing from home without the phone ringing...without anyone barging into my office....working in peace:)

The subways are probably running now. Or soon they will be. But I will be here. Happily making calls and reviewing documents from my own computer. Eating lunch with my husband and dogs. Taking breaks, including likely a nap on my sofa. Working from home will definitely be on my list of options I'd like with that perfect job that I will one day have in the future.

Post Script

Derek got home from his run, which he cut short. And said, "I am sorry. I was being a real pr*** to you earlier. I don't know why. I am sorry." And he brought me ice cream. Not the organic kind that I like. But the Ben & Jerry's that I like just as well.

And I will write about our Colorado trip. Soon.

Random Thoughts

Apparently, those who "rate" blogs (like, G, PG, PG-13, R, X, XXX, etc.) rate my blog a G. A "G", despite having the word "hell" twice and "pissed" once. I don't really curse, and I would hardly consider "pissed" a curse even though I sometimes pause before saying it, so I was more surprised that either of those words appeared on my blog. Since I rarely post, I didn't think there was much to rate. But doesn't G seem a bit too kind. What movies are rated "G"? If you discuss adult topics, like work and marriage and dysfunctional families, shouldn't that qualify itself for PG? I don't know, but it just seems so.

I am angry. At my husband. Today, he had to teach a 6:45 a.m. class, and then had no other obligations. He was going to run a bit after his class, but that isn't really an "obligation." I had to leave for work at 6:45 (a bit earlier than normal) to get some things done, and then have an 8:00 a.m. meeting to prepare for a big mediation session today. We are involved in a litigation along with one of the teams, and the general counsel from the team flew in. I've spoke with him a number of times, but this would be our first in person meeting. Anyway, so I had the mediation all day -- all day. It was a big deal for a number of reasons. We didn't settle the case, but it was interesting nonetheless and productive on a number of different levels. I came straight home (the location of the mediation is closer to our house than my job), and though I got home a bit earlier than most days (about 6:15pm), I still had to get on the computer to catch up on the rest of my work day. The emails and phone calls that came into my desk while I wasn't there, so tomorrow wouldn't be crazy. I get home -- and I am wet because it is 100% humidity outside and starting to rain but still feels desperately hot -- and I am hungry because at the mediation I had two small bottles of water and the water fountain didn't work and 1 sandwich for lunch because we had no access to food and I couldn't pull out my apple or orange and eat in front of 4 other colleagues who had nothing, one of whom is 8 months pregnant, and because it is not easy to eat either type of fruit in a conference room while conversations are going on. So I am hungry and hot and wet and tired. And my freaking husband -- as soon as I walk in the door, he does NOT even say HI, does not ask "how are you?," does not ask about my day, does not smile at me, NOTHING. He says, "I am going to go to a Pilates class. I need to stretch."

Okay, first, Pilates doesn't "stretch you." It works on your core strength. I guess there is some MARGINAL stretching during some of the moves as well, but mat pilates does not "stretch you." He is the fitness instructor, shouldn't he know this? Second, you taught a class this morning, then ran, then had ALL DAY. Why are you going again to the gym as soon as I get home? Third (well, first), where was the "Hey," "Hi," "Hello,"...where was my welcome home????? So I ask, "Are the dogs taken care of?" Because I love walking them, but I am hot and hungry and tired and I want my suit off and I can't stand the thought of going back outside. But had he said hello or asked about my day, maybe I would have been willing to. But he didn't.

And I know. I came home to a cooked dinner and the laundry was done and the house was sort of cleaned up (but it was already cleaned up to begin with). And I appreciate these things. I do. I swear. But why not do laundry when I am home? I will split the chores. Why not work out the other 10 hours of the day while I was at work? Why not just walk the dogs or say you will take care of them later? Okay, he sometimes does that. But I wanted him to do it tonight.

So he huffed and puffed, and I did the same, and he fed the dogs (well, I fed Deuce, because he is scared of the rain and wouldn't eat so I had to hand feed him because he gets stomach aches if he doesn't eat twice a day) and then walked them. I noted that he still hadn't even said "Hi" to me before his walk. So he gets back and STILL doesn't say hi and then says he is going running and do I want to come. No, I don't want to go. Do I look like I want to go -- as I am in my pajamas and watching Jeopardy and wishing I had ice-cream? No. And he notes that he has to see an owner of a store that is by the gym anyway (he used to do business with him when he worked for his dad, and the store owner is still a client's of his father), as if to excuse why he is going running. DIDN'T YOU RUN THIS MORNING AFTER YOUR CLASS? (Class, by the way, meaning intense hard core spinning class.] That is what I wanted to say. But I didn't. I looked at him blankly. He asked "What's wrong? I have to see [the store owner] anyway." That is not the freaking point. Just say hello to me, be pleasant. Or maybe think about the fact that it might be nice to spend a few minutes of this Wednesday with me -- just a few -- before you head back out. Or acknowledge that you are addicted to the gym. Or maybe you aren't. But today, today I think you are.

Guaranteed, he is going to get home later and I am going to be ready to fall asleep and he will be ready to apologize and want to talk. Sometimes, honestly, I want to smack him. And if he doesn't bring me home ice-cream from the store he has to visit anyway (which has the best organic ice cream...i forget the brand), I really will smack him. Of course, I have not told him I want ice cream nor will I call and tell him, but still. He should just know.

But on another note, he did all our laundry, put the dishes away, cleaned up the house, and walked the dogs. Thanks:) And sometimes, he does know what I want when I don't say it. Sometimes.

Really, on another totally different note -- I finished The History of Love by Nicole Kraus. Excellent. I loved the book. Interesting, told in the voices of a few different people. The narrative captured the difference in age, perspective, gender, and mental health of each. The style was creative and unique, and the emotions and loss and heartache and humor so relatable. And the story line really wove together nicely. I'd recommend it.

Tomorrow is Thursday. That is good....so close to Friday. We have a birthday party and an wedding engagement party at work. So the day is broken up, which makes Friday come that much sooner. And the weather is supposed to be a little less hot after the thunderstorms.....which, will be nothing less than a relief. Have I ever mentioned that I fully understand why the crime rate escalates during the summer and/or heat waves? If not, then let me admit. I understand. See paragraphs above if any explanation is needed.

Oh, and our trip to Colorado was nice. Wasn't the best vacation ever, wasn't the worst. But it was good. More on that another day.....

Ready for Vacation...

We leave tomorrow for Colorado. When I left work today (at 3:55pm....I was SUCCESSFUL in my attempt to get out early!) I felt light and happy and weightless. So nice to turn the Out of Office Assistant on, and say that I will not have access to email or voicemail (whether the statement is true or not...totally different story).

I picked out two books at Barnes & Noble that I am quite excited about. The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, and The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai. I started reading the former, thinking it might the "lighter, faster" read -- but I think I am wrong. My thought was I would finish it over my travels and leave it in Colorado for my mom to read - but the first few pages proved to be denser than I expected. But very good. I am only on page 19, so I will reserve any more comment until I am further into it. But so far, it has pulled me in.

Over the weekend, Derek and I went out with one of the summer legal interns (that I am supervising), and his girlfriend who is visiting from DC. His girlfriend is about to start medical school at GW, and was so nice. As is the intern. He is only a few years younger than me, and one of hte nicest people I have ever met. Ambitious, down to earth, very together. Another friend of mine from work also joined us, along with her boyfriend. She is in one of the creative groups at work whom I do a lot of work with. Turns out, she is very creative. When not at work, she is a singer! She is about to come out with an album, and actually was previously on the charts in the UK (www.johannalive.com). Her boyfriend and her went to undergrad together, and he actually was a swimmer. He went to high school at a school where a number of my former G-town teammates swam in Arizona, as well as my closest friend from law school. Between the swimming connections and connections to DC, it felt like we all knew each other better than we actually do. And we had a great time. Lots of laughter, lots of great conversation (from politics to movies to traveling to television to subway stories to New York chatter to personal stories). I was really glad that last week, on a whim, I coordinated it. I had just been thinking that while I like keeping work and home separate in many ways, when you are committed to a place long term, it is nice to develop friendships outside of the office with some of the people that I like at work. Anyway, it made for a good weekend. That, and the 70 degree weather with no humidity helped. And the Sunday night bar-b-que with my building neighbors (at least five out of the eight units....the "originals"...the five couples in five of the units have lived in the building since within about a month of each other, the remaining three units weren't filled until a bit later).

Okay, I have to reserve us a car to take us to the airport in the morning. And I have to call my sister, who is having problems with her dog (Maddie is petrified of thunder.....think Marley and Me but 100 times worse and the doggie-downers don't do anything for her....) to try to come up with a solution. I hate that summer time is thunderstorm season in Colorado, and that her husband is such a pr*** about some things. If he gave Maddie more attention, the issue would not be AS BAD. So anyway, I have to call her and do my part to figure out a better life for Maddie. We might just have three dogs at our house pretty soon -- and hopefully Deuce can teach her how to bunker up in the bathtub rather than Maddie teaching him how to chew through dry wall....and more dry wall....and wood studs...and more dry wall. To be honest, what she really needs is a family who has time for her -- maybe even an older couple who need companionship and stay at home so she is not ALONE when she is scared. But that isn't her family right now, so we have to find a way to make her family provide her what she needs.

More after I get back from Colorado:)

Favorite Local Restaurants

My friend Tracey (http://morethanaminivanmom.blogspot.com) "tagged" me to list my top 5 favorite local restaurants.

Here are the rules:

1. Link to name of person that tagged you.
2. Include state and country you live in.
3. List top 5 favorite local restaurants.
4. Tag 5 other people and let them know they’ve been tagged.

Hopefully, no one is disappointed that I am not tagging five more people. But I find it necessary to break some rules, some of the time, to prove (to myself) that I am not a conformist. Or, because I don't have five friends who keep ACTIVE blogs. And, really, I am just want to redeem myself with the blog by putting something up...and maybe it will start a chain. Maybe I will blog a couple more times even after this....Anyway, back to my favorite restaurants. These are in no particular order.

Brooklyn, NY USA

1. Apartment 138. (Boerum Hill, Brooklyn) When Derek and I first moved back to NYC from California, we sub-leased a small apartment in Brooklyn Heights for six weeks (and then month-to-month after that). How we got so lucky to find someone that needed to sublease their aparment for 6 weeks, and then have the option to go month to month after that, was miraculous. MIRACULOUS. But somehow, on Craig's List, miracles happen. We got to NY from our cross country drive around July 10th or something like that, and I had to take the New York Bar exam on July 24th or something like that. Two weeks. I had off work. All of our stuff was being moved across country and then in storage until we closed on our condo. We had an air mattress and two bowls and two spoons. And a pot that we never used. Derek bought me a chair and a folding table after we realized that studying on the air mattress just wasn't cutting it. Every night, we would walk to Smith Street to go to dinner. Despite saying we would try a new place every night, we always went to Apartment 138. And we'd order a pitcher of Sangria along with our meal. And every night, Derek would have 1 glass, and I would have the rest of the pitcher. Because all I had to do the next day was, you know, study for the bar. Which I would do for about 2 hours, get restless and bored and then take the dogs to the dog park, and then take a nap with one of my books laid on top of my chest (b/c I have always believed in osmosis and the power of sleep), and then wait for Derek to get home so we could walk to Smith Street and eat at Apartment 138. And drink the Sangria. (By the way, excellent food, excellent salads, excellent turkey meatloaf, they serve bread in cute little miniature tin buckets with really tastey olive oil to dip it in, and have excellent desserts, and a cute outdoor patio).

2. Mango Thai. (Park Slope, Brooklyn) Everyone that works at Mango Thai (on Seventh Avenue in Park Slope) is nice. Everyone. The food is really good (I prefer it to most Thai places). The deco is simple but nice. They also deliver - with a very broad delivery map - and every delivery man from Mango LOVES our dogs. They don't get scared when two big dogs greet them at the door. They pet them, always after they hand us our food. They smile. (This is not exactly common for NY delivery people). And the Chicken Pad Thai is always delicious.

3. Chavella's. (Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) One half block from my house. Brand new (it has been opened for about 3 months). Small space -- only seats about 20 people, very tightly. Did amazing deco work both inside and out. AUTHENTIC Mexican food. As in AUTHENTIC. As in you have to go deep into Mexico to have this kind of food. And so fresh. It is worth every penny - and it isn't too many pennies. We just wrote a letter in support of Chavella's getting its liquor license.

4. Franny's. (Park Slope/Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) Some may think it is overrated and overpriced. I don't. On the menu -- creative appetizers and personal pizzas. They cure their own meats (I've never had such good sausage). They make their own gelato (one if the flavor of milk -- which tastes exactly like milk and is very good!). They offer good wine and interesting drinks. They, too, have a great outdoor patio. It is buzzing with conversation. It is hip. We take everyone there -- those visiting from 2 miles away in Manhattan, those visiting from 250 miles away from Boston or DC, those visiting from 2000 miles away from Colorado, and those visiting from 3000 miles away in California. Every single person has loved Franny's too. So I think the people from here who say it is overrated and overpriced have a chip on their shoulder.

5. BLT Burger. (Greenwich Village, Manhattan). I could have listed another restaurant walking distance from our house (which could be in any number of neighborhoods). And, technically, BLT Burger is. It is only about 3 miles from us. But we never walk there. We first went in search of a good milkshake when some of our closest friends were visiting from DC. We read about it, passed it, and felt it our destiny to try it. Not only do they have great milkshakes, but great burgers too. Including Kobi beef (American or Japanese), or turkey burgers, or salads. And I am a fan of burgers. So when I want one, I go there. And yes, I feel guilty because I am reminded that I really should be a vegetarian. I see pictures of the cows and farms, and I feel guilty. And usually I like to AVOID things that make me feel guilty. But this is worth it. It is good.

And those, my friends, are some restaurants worth visting! No doubt that if those of you from far away (whether over the bridge or across the country) come visit, we will take you to at least 4 out of 5 of these spots:)

Weekend Highlights

Mother's Day weekend in NYC proved to be beautiful. Aside from a brief rain on Saturday night, it was perfect, sunny, breezy weather. Couldn't beat it.

I bought new running shoes on Friday night. I actually ordered new running shoes last week, but despite the claim that the Nike Veroma's were perfect for those with narrow feet and high arches (and with great cushioning), but feet were swimming around in them. They had a very wide toe-box, and my arches felt very turned in since my toes weren't secured in place. So I returned them to the NikeTown store. Much to my delight, they gave me a 20% discount when I returned them to use in store, so long as purchased something within the next 2 hours. So I bought the Nike Shox - the updated version of my current shoe. Perfect. The shoes also have the place for the Nike iPod chip, which tracks your running. I've had the chip since we got the computer, but not the right shoes. So I used it for the first time this weekend. It is AWESOME. Kind of like your own personal trainer/coach. It tracks everything --pace per mile each run, distance, total distance from all workouts combined, fastest mile from any workout you have run. I love it. It is a good motivator to push yourself out of your comfort zone and keep you dedicated.

Had dinner with Mike and Lauren on Friday night at Dublin's in the West Village. Lots of fun. We had a great time. Came home and Jimmy Kimmel concert series was on, featuring Kelly Clarkson and her new single, Never Again. Call me a dork, but I am a Kelly Clarkson fan and a proud one. I love her. The new single is great -- remnant of Alannis Morrisette "You Oughtta Know." It has been added to my iPod and it was money well spent.

Ate out last night again, too. At Amorina Pizzeria. Excellent Italian food and pizza (I had one with green olives, mushrooms, sausage, and goat cheese). Great wine. Very shiek and hip and charming. Then walked around and laughed, bar hopping without drinking, and enjoying the light rain.

We saw "Away From Her" on Saturday - a new movie about a woman who is diagnosed, and then suffers through, Alzheimers. It was a touching story, and the conflict of the characters and their history and their pain was well played. Julie Christy (leading actress) is absolutely beautiful and I can only dream of aging so gracefully. The man who played her husband - I forget his name now - was incredible as well. If you are looking for action - don't see it. If you are looking for depth and conflict, it is a great movie. The insight into life long relationships was stunning - and I would say accurate if I had any first hand knowledge of what a life-long relationship feels like at the age of 33. But it felt accurate and relate-able and real. It was also heartbreaking.

I checked out some renovated condos on our block today. They've been working on them for a while, and today was the first open house. They exceeded my expectations! Which is great. We have a beautiful block and these renovation projects just make it better. I thought the developers, the same ones that built our condo (The Developers Group), did a great job with the space. Unlike ours, which was a new building on an undeveloped lot, this was a gut-renovation of a brownstone. I think they paid closer attention to detail with this project (ie, the bathrooms) and paid the spaces out nicely. I wasn't expecting much, and I was impressed. Two of my favorite neighbors, James and AnnMarie, checked them out, too, and then we hung outside talking for the next hour or so. James and AnnMarie both work crazy hours and James travels a ton, so we rarely get to see them b/t their schedule and ours. But whenever we do, I am happy. They are good, quality people and share a lot in common with both Derek and me (including that we graduated undergrad in the same year and have been together since exactly when Derek and I have, and James and I work in the same industry, although in different capacities).

I'm reading a great book right now -- The Known World -- a story about a black man whose father paid his way out of slavery (after first paying his own way and his wife's) who later owns slaves himself, much to his father's disappointment. It is really interesting and well written. I'll have to write another post about it, because it merits a lot of praise. Both in the substance of the novel and the way the story is constructed and told.

A friend of mine from high school was in town, and will be in town again next week, too. He went to college not too far from me (Naval Academy) and now works for a consulting firm out of their Boston office. But he does a lot of projects in NY, so it brings him to NYC often. We were able to get coffee Friday before he headed back, and we'll have dinner this Wednesday (hopefully) after work. It was great to see him and catch up and laugh. I need to plan a trip up to Boston to see him and his wife and their two kids (he has two great, cute kids). I've been sayinig that since last summer when they made their way to Boston, but it is a must for this summer. Hopefully, I will be writing a blog about our trip to Boston before the end of summer. I am looking forward to dinner with him on Wednesday, and then next weekend my friend Brad (former colleague at my old law firm) and his wife are having a rooftop party, which will be fun! So I am looking forward to a good week, in and out of work.

This Week's Playlist

1. Better Man - James Morrison
2. Pieces Don't Fit Anymore - James Morrison
3. The Last Goodbye - James Morrison
4. 1000 Miles Away - Jewel
5. Lose Control - Eminem
6. Stay With You - John Legend
7. Say It Right - Nelly Furtado
8. Three Babies - Sinead O'Connor
9. Feel So Different - Sinead O'Connor

James Morrison is currently touring with John Mayer, and I am kicking myself for not having gotten tickets earlier. There is a show I could go to on 7/26, but I could basically just get in the stadium, no great seats. Which would probably be fine, but now I am feeling indulgent and wish that 1) it was at a small venue, and 2) I was front you. I absolutely love love love his music, in particular the three songs listed above.

The best part about "Better Man." I had downloaded it into our library, but didn't mention it too much to Derek. He listened to it while I was at work, and decided he wanted to end his spin classes with it this week (as the cool down song). I thought it was sweet. Maybe he just likes the music and the guy's voice (because it is pretty fricking incredible). But maybe, just maybe, he can relate to the words of the song because it is how he feels about me.

Seven Random Things

My friend Tracey (http://morethanaminivanmom.blogspot.com) "tagged" me to post 7 random things about myself. I think actually seven "weird" things, but now I cannot remember and I am being too lazy to go check back. I am also supposed to "tag" someone more people to do the same....but no one else who reads this but Tracey has an ACTIVE blog. So any tagging I do will fail....so I'll just do the listing....

1. I can only wink with my left eye. For the life of me, I cannot wink with my right eye. If I try, both my eyes just squint/close. I cannot do it.
2. I like to dip french fries in milkshakes. If I get fries anywhere, I always order a milkshake (if possible) and dip my fries in the shake like it is a condiment.
3. I've had over 75 stitches in my chin. In the same 1 inch spot. You can still barely see the scar, but it is there. The first set of 35 came when I was about 8 years old, and I was ice skating at a "Kiwana's Club" party. My dad was part of the Kiwana's Club (what the hell is that, by the way??) and it was a family ice-skating party. I fancied myself to be Dorothy Hamill and liked to go in the middle of the rink to do tricks. I fell hard on the ice, and it split my chin open. Badly. The had to clear the ice and get the Zamboni out to clean up all the blood. I got three layers of stitches because it was so deep. The next time I got stitches in that same spot, I was 11. I was riding bikes down a hill with my sister. She "swore" that she was not using breaks on the way down, so I didn't either. At the bottom of the hill, I lost control of the bike and ran into a dirt mound. My bike stayed where it was, and I went flying. I skidded on my chin (note: no other part of my body even had a scrape! Does this mean I have a big chin?). I could actually lift the skin of my chin up and touch the bone, and I almost went into shock.
4. I think I have mentioned this before, but if I am watching a game show, I usually turn it off or change the channel right before the very end. I can't stand to see anyone lose and so, depending on what game it is, I either like to just put it out of my mind and pretend it was an old re-run (so the person has now recovered from the heartache of the loss) or pretend that everyone won (for example, if it is Wheel of Fortune).
5. Nicknames I've had in my life, aside from Nikki and/or Nik: "Motor Nose," "Hart," "James King Lowell," "Sticky Fart" (purely for rhyming reasons only!!), "Luca," "Jose," "Steve," "Cameron," and "Nikki Jo." My Granpda Ray called me the first, many have called me the second, my sister tormented me with the third, my high school friends Chris, Kurt and Derek called me the fourth once Derek brilliantly realized it rhymed with my name, Agatha called me the fifth, my friend (who is like a sister) Tamra called me the sixth, and Agatha called me the seventh and eighth, and my Uncle Dave called me the ninth (pretending to get me and my sister confused, since my sister's name is Billi Jo). Oh, and "Branca de Neve," which means Snow White and is my capoeira nickname.
6. Often, I have a dream that I cannot move at all, and to move I have to swim. So I have to find a way to swim in the equivalent of air only as deep as like 1 foot, and I can never figure out how to start -- but once I get going I get exactly where I need to go. I definitely have this dream when I am feeling overwhelmed with something -- whether it is life in general or something more specific. I have this dream even though, barring about 1 months in 1999, I haven't swam since 1995.
7. When I was little (like kindergarden), I would pretend to "nurse" my dolls in our backyard (which is weird, because my mom did not breastfeed and neither did any of my aunts, so where did I see this?) and I wanted to name my daughter "Shasta," yes, as in the cola.

How To Get Your Name In A Paper, A Cab Driver To Buy You A Gingerale, And Fly First Class -- All In One Day

Wednesday May 2nd may have been the all time worst day of my life. If not the "worst" day, it certainly was one of the most embarrassing and least graceful days.

Since Sunday, I have been in Chicago for work. I was scheduled to return Wednesday on a 3pm flight. The trip had gone well, I had had fun. It had been productive. I was very busy, but I also got to see my former colleagues, some of whom I am close with and get to see rarely. I got to see people that practice the kind of law I practice from all around the world, some of whom who are actually cool and interesting and fun! This year, I got to experience the conference from the perspective of an "in house client," which means I work at a company that many law firms want as their client. Which makes the conference busier (you actually have tons of meetings with othe companies with whom you are working on business ventures or have disputes with), a little more indulgent (you get taken to nice dinners) and a little more worthwhile (the continuing education classes are on topics that impact your daily life a little more, and you make contacts with other in-house attorneys to see how they deal with particular issues).

So as I said, everything was going well. Sunday and Monday were busy, but nice days. Chicago is a great town. Tuesday I ran in the conference's annual 5k run, right along Lake Michigan, and I was the 2nd overall female (by three fricking seconds. Just three!) and had fun with all the other people who ran it. Like last year, I met some great people from around the world at this run - and it is nice to meet them doing something other than networking or sitting in a class. Anyway, then I went to dinner on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building with my old colleagues, and just enjoyed the views and the food and the laughter. Fun times. We then went to a party thrown for everyone attending the convention. Enjoyed the bands playing, enjoyed the venue (the Grand Ballroom at the Navy Pier...absolutely beautiful). Good times.

Then I went home about 1am. This would be the very beginning of Wednesday May 2nd. I had had maybe 3 1/2 drinks throughout the night, including at dinner. Certainly not "nothing," but not a lot. Not anything that would make me sick. However, right as I laid down to sleep, I realized that I was about to get very sick. Therein started about 3 hours of vomiting. And not to be disgusting, but when I say "vomiting," this meant everything was coming up. I think I saw a whole piece of asparagus, and I remember wondering, "Didn't I chew that?" Anyway, I was miserable. Finally at 4, I was able to lay down and fall asleep.

I had a 8am meeting with the lawyers for the Super Bowl Host Committee. I had to be "on." I was so not on. We had a nice conversation, and they were both so nice. But the entire time I thought I might get sick at the table. I tried to pick at the bagel I was eating, but it was just making me so nauseous. And I was also incredibly thirsty. By 9, the meeting was over, I ran up to my room, drank some water, and immediately threw everything back up and more. Ah, I felt miserable and disgusting. I tried to brush my teeth, but then threw up again even though this did not involve having anything go down into my stomach. Just having something hit my mouth seemed to trigger the reflex. Could it be a hangover? Did the 3 glasses of wine really do this to me????

I slept for a couple hours, but then had to get to the convention center for more meetings and classes. Somehow, I got through the meetings and sat in the very back during the classes. I just didn't eat or drink anythiing, despite my overwhelming thirst. Oh, and I picked up the daily "INTA News" -- the news paper for the convention -- and see that they listed the top three men and top three women from the 5k. Go Nikki. I am a star. And the time was respectable, so I pat myself on my very weak and very tired and very thirsty back.

Finally, it was about 1:30 and time for me to go to the airport. One of my colleagues was going to go, as well, but had to go back to our hotel first. I had all my stuff with me, and just couldn't bare to do any more than I absolutely had to, so we go separately. This was a good call on my part. Why you ask? Otherwise my colleague would have been there when, as the cab driver is on the blocked off express freeway lanes going to the airport - the lanes where you cannot pull over and there is no exit -- I tell him that I need to find a way to pull over because I think I might be sick. He apologizes for something, I think his driving, and I assure hiim it is not his driving, that I am just sick. He hands me a newspaper, but I realize this is going to do no good when I vomit. I had bought shoes at Macy's and still had the shopping bag, so I pull the shoes out and just hold the shopping bag in my lap. Praying that we get to the next available exit soon. Well, we didn't get there soon enough and I vomit whatever is in my stomach into the bag (what was in my stomach? I purposely avoided even drinking water since my last spell). After I vomit, we get to an exit and go to a gas station. I get out to regroup, throw the bag away, and clean up. The cab driver buys me a gingerale. (And, he stops his meter!). I profusely apologize and thank him at the same time, and he kindly just says he knows it is very hard to travel when you are sick. I take a sip of the gingerale, and immediately throw it back up. I am not sure, but I think the cab driver lightly patted my back as I threw up in the grass by the gas station.

Somehow, he lets me back into the cab and we go the limited distance left to the airport. I make it, and even think I feel a little better. Then I find out my flight was cancelled and the next flight I can get on is 6pm. This is actually a good thing, but at the time it brings me to tears just because I feel so sick.

I get through security and am dying of thirst, literally, and I know I need something to soothe my stomache. Maybe grease. Maybe just a little grease. Because maybe it was those three glasses of wine, even though I know it is not. So I buy McDonald's french fries - small order - and water. I sit in a cool area of the airport (which is JAM PACKED, so crowded and busy) and try to eat. I eat maybe 1/2 of them, and drink maybe 1/2 the bottle of water, and I am feeling like maybe I made it through the storm.

THink again. I get up to throw the rest of the fries away, and it hits me. I rush to the bathroom, and I spend the next 75 minutes in there. In the handicap bathroom, sitting on my luggage facing the toilet, and throwing up. Throwing up for 75 minutes. I was crying (silently, tears just streaming down my face) and wondering if I could even get onto a plane. If I looked 1/4 as bad as I felt, I looked like hell or death. One of the two. I tried to chew a piece of gum to make my breath fresher, and then I threw up. So I decided that I did not care about my breath. I just didn't want to throw up anymore.

I found a seat next to the gate that would eventually be my gate, and fell asleep. My 6pm flight was delayed until 7:30. By the time I boarded, I had gone a couple hours without throwing up. I felt confidant that the worst had passed. My stomach felt calm. I was so thirsty that I was no longer really thirsty. I took one sip -- one tiny sip of water -- and it stayed down. I wasn't going to test it anymore.

I got on the plane, and it wasn't packed. No row had 3 people in it. First class was not full. My head is throbbing now, because I am dehydrated. The plane takes off, I feel okay. I order a Coke. I never drink coke or caffeine, except when I have a headache. The caffeine is supposed to help with the headache, and normally it does. I think if I can just get one sip...one tiny sip... it will help. I take one sip, and it doesn't help. I throw up. I tried to get out (I was not in the aisle seat), but as the woman was getting up I realized I was not going to make it to the bathroom. Not even out of our aisle. I grab a "barf bag" - thank god there was one there - and use it. I am miserable and embarrassed and whatever pride I had after vomiting in the cab is now completely gone. But I am so miserable that I don't even really care. The stewardess helps me, and says that they actually have a open seat up front. Which would be in First Class. So go figure -- the stewardess would actually rather have the people in first class suffer through a vomiting neighbor than the people in coach. Someone must have pissed her off up there. In any event, I relocate and fall asleep. No more vomiting.

I get home and am just miserable. I make it through the NYC cab ride with no events -- thank god. Although I did fantasize about who would help me if I had to get out of the cab and barf while we drove through the Hesidic Jewish neighborhood. I also wondered why there were so many Hesidic Jewish men out and about at 11:30 pm on a Wednesday night? I wondered, but I decided it would be a good thing. If I needed help, they might help. And my cab driver seemed very nice. Not sure if he would stop the meter and buy me a gingerale, but I decided he might.

When I get home I think my head is about to explode. I am not exaggerating. I really think that it might. It hurts so bad, and you can see the veins popping out. You really could. Over each eyebrow, you could feel tension knots that are normally not there. (I confirmed this today and checked ot make sure that they are no longer there). I think that all this pressure cannot be contained. I start to cry and Derek leads me to bed. He cooks me some pizza, so he can eat the sauce and cheese and I can eat the the crust. I need something, and the whole grain whole wheat flourless bread just wasn't going to go down, and I didn't want it to come back up. I lay there, and he feeds me little tiny bits of the crust, and he makes me sip water after each one. I am crying and I feel worse than ever, BUT the food is staying down!! He rubs my forehead lightly, and eventually I fall asleep. Right before midnight. The day is over.

I am home sick today. I was supposed to go to Philly for a settlement conference. I woke up, and was burning hot and sweating with the chills. My colleague is pregnant, andI don't want to get her sick if this is viral. Plus, even though I really want to go, I realized I just cannot. I slept until about 1pm. I ate a piece of that whole grain whole wheat flourles toast, and it stayed down. I've had 2 big glasses of water. I am on the road to recovery.....Plus, honestly, how many people can say a cab driver has ever bought them a gingerale before??

Finding Beauty

How do I pass time on the subway you ask? Often, I read. But typically, after I read a book that I absolutely love, I go through a time where I am hesitant to pick up anything new. I anticipate not liking the book as much, I anticipate being disappointed. So I wait so that I can give the next book a fair shot at gaining my attention.

I rarely listen to my iPod. I love music - all types, all genres. I appreciate good music and musical talent. But I associate music with my home, with my car, with working out. It usually doesn't fit on the subway for me. So what do I do during my book breaks on my commute?

I play the "Find Something Beautiful" game. That I created. I think I might have done a version of this when I had to go to church when I was a child, but it was a much less refined game back then. Actually, back then, I would look at every single person as they walked in line to get communion, and I would let the people that I thought were pretty or good looking "pass," and those that I found unattractive or ugly I would pretend to send them back to their pews. Pretty deep, spiritual and religious of me, huh? Needless to say, I have known from a young age that I did not believe in "church." Religion, maybe. Faith, maybe. But not "church." Or the need for it. Or the mandate of going. It all comes back to the question that I always ask: If there is a god, no matter what we call him/her/it or what form he/she/it comes in - does god really care if I show up to a particular building each Sunday of my life? Or would god care more about me being good and kind and caring? Clearly, I think the latter. So if there is a god, I would imagine god was less disturbed with me missing church on any given sunday and more disturbed with the fact that when I was 7, I determined who I thought was "fit" for communion based on whether I thought they were pretty or ugly.

Anyway, I digress. I no longer play the game in church (okay, I no longer go to church, but that is beside the point). And the game has refined. Now, when I am on the subway, I see if I can find at least one "beautiful" or attractive thing about every single person in my car. So you can see that I have grown, right? I no longer divide the world as "pretty" and "ugly," but rather try to find the "pretty" in everyone.

It is not easy. But not for the reasons that I would imagine. With women, I can almost ALWAYS find at least one beautiful trait. Pretty eyes, good skin, nice hands, nice legs, good sense of style, nice hair, delicate nose, nice collar bones, nice smile. Something. Men, on the other hand, I've got a hard time with. With men, it is still sort of like I am 7. It's all or nothing. They are good looking, or they aren't. If I can find 1 thing attractive, I can find a laundry list of other things. But if not, there's absolutely nothing. Why is that?

I've got a couple theories. Maybe since I am a woman myself, I know how to dissect women. The things I like about myself, I can spot in other women. The things I don't like about myself, I can spot and envy in other women. Or maybe women just have more "beautiful" features, even if the whole doesn't necessarily look great to someone subjectively.

Or maybe, if you look closely at that last sentence, you'll see there's another. Maybe it is me trying to find something "beautiful." What I am looking for is beautiful - maybe - and what some men are to me is "attractive" (or, hot, or whatever). It is something less tangible than "beauty." I see a man, and I know if I find him attractive or not. My mind doesn't tell me, my eyes don't tell me. My stomach does. I get a physiological reaction. I don't get that physiological reaction with women. So my ability to objectively say if I find something nice about the way women look or their features remains wholly cerebral. My mind is looking at something, disconnected from my body or subconscious. There is nothing visceral or primitive about it. It does not signify anything to me on any level (unless, as I alluded to above, is that it is reinforcing something that I like or dislike about myself).

Men, on the other hand, I can't be as objective about. But this surprises me. I often have said, "Well,he is good looking, but just doesn't do anything for me." And to be honest, if a guy is good looking on the train, I have no problem picking out a feature. But if a guy is not "good looking," I often cannot, for the life of me, pick out one feature that I like about him. His hair, his smile, his eyes, his skin, his nose, his ears, his hands. Nothing. I am usually at a loss. Why is this???? A man can be objectively good looking and do nothing for me, and I can possibly point out the good traits. He can be possibly objectively unattractive, but make something in my stomach feel like a small little butterfly, and I can pick out traits I like. But if he is objectively unattractive, and does nothing for me, then I can't even pick out ONE feature that is nice? I think it is terrible.

Or maybe it is my fall back options that aren't appropriate. With women, I often find myself saying "She's got nice skin" or "Young hands." Men just really don't often have nice skin or young looking hands. If they do, they are often the ones that are objectively good looking in my eyes but don't do anything for me. Sometimes with women it is their hair. "She has nice, full hair" (as opposed to my fine hair....this would be an instance where I notice it because I envy it). Few guys really have nice hair (why else do we make such a big deal out of Patrick Dempsey's nice head of hair)? Or if they do, they aren't on the NY subway system. So then I try to think, "okay, does he have strong looking hands?" I've always found strong hands nice - you can depend on them, they can pick you up, they can build things, they can hold you tight, they work hard. But it doesn't work. If a guy has strong - maybe rugged - looking hands, I am kind of attracted to him regardless and can find other nice features, too. So I haven't figured out a way out of this dilemma that always ruins my game -- I can find one nice feature in most every woman, but with men, I am still all or nothing. It always ruins the game.

If you think I sound silly, or crazy, or naive, or young, try it. First, it is fun. Time flies. Second, it makes you think. You can write a thesis on beauty and on attraction in your head. Third, I am curious:)

My other "game" is on my walk home (or to) the subway. Or any walk, really. It is to make eye contact and smile at each person that walks by me. I like to see if more people react positively or more people get scared and look away/look down/pretend they don't see me. Maybe this game is only fun in NY because NYers like to pretend that they don't have time to make eye contact with anyone, anywhere. But it is also fun because it makes you feel kind of good. Smiling at people makes you feel good no matter what - and it probably makes the person feel good even if they do look down at the ground and shuffle away as quickly as possible. A friend of mine also thought that it would be fun because it "gives you the power" in that dynamic that exists between the two of you - even if you are strangers. You take charge and "control" the exchange by making eye contact and offering something. I am not sure I agree - the person I make eye contact feels pretty powerful when they look at me like I am crazy.

Updates...

Always feel like I have lots I want to post about, but then when I get a few minutes to post something, the thoughts slip away (as well as the ability to be eloquent and deep!). So here are some random updates...

1. Last weekend my sister, her husband, and my oldest nephew Reeves were here for Reeves' 12th birthday. It was a surprise trip for him, and he loved it! They came in on a red-eye, arriving at 6:30 am Saturday morning. I picked them up, we dropped their stuff off at our condo (and they got the "grand tour" and really liked it!), said hi to Butter & Deuce and got Derek. At about 7:30, we then went and walked around the neighborhood and got breakfast. Lesson #1 about New York: cool, hip restaurants do not open before 9am. Except Tom's Diner, a Brooklyn hallmark (over 70 years!), with exceptional pancakes, excellent service, and 5am-4pm hours, Monday-Saturday.
2. After breakfast we walked over to Prospect Park and shopped at the Farmer's market. Apparently, just breakfast, dirty city streets, and the beautiful park and market were enough to impress Reeves, who announced to his dad while my sister bough challah bread that "This is the best birthday present ever."
3. My sister and her husband were impressed with how kid friendly and dog friendly our neighborhood is. Apparently, they did not believe me when I told them all of this, but had to see it for themselves.
4. From the farmer's market, we headed into the park and realized a 1/2 marathon race was happening. So we cheered the runners on, and my sister asked, "Man, who does this [meaning, running in races] for fun?" Derek and I both though we would see my dear friend Lauren, who is training for an ironman triathlon, run by any moment as an answer to the question. We didn't see Lauren, but I did see my friend Russ, who is also an IP attorney and who runs in a 5K at the annual conference we all go to together (and who actually told me about the job at the NFL!). My sister thought that was funny for some reason - I guess that she asked the question, and not but three minutes later I shouted "Go Russ!" and he yelled back, as he sped on by, "Hey Nikki!".
5. We toured the streets of Brooklyn for the rest of the morning -- it was a nice day, fun to walk and window shop. Lesson #2: If you would like to shop in NYC or Brooklyn on the weekends, in cool boutique shops, do not try to shop before 12:00pm. Nothing opens before then!
6. Reeves announced while we were window shopping and checking out the cool brownstones, "I love New York." What a wise wise child.
7. We napped during the afternoon to recover from the red-eye and early morning. After the nap, we took the subway into Times Square, which Reeves was really excited to see. However, he had a migraine, so there was a hitch thrown in our plans. Poor kid. I devised a solution that helped him recover before dinner -- I had Derek and Ryan go get some Advil Migraine medicine and take him to one of my favorite spots, DTUT's, which is a coffee/wine/beer/dessert cafe with big comfy chair and sofas. My sister and I walked around, and then went by DTUT's right before dinner (it is on the Upper East Side, and right next to where we were having dinner). We walk into to see Ryan and Derek enjoying a some wine, and Reeves happy as could be with a glass of tea, laughing, and staring at the amazing desserts. Reeves happily let us know that as soon as he took the medicine and sat down for a minute, he felt better! He loved the Advil Migraine and wanted to make sure they always had it around. Lesson #3: Advil Migraine = Crack.
8. Dinner was awesome. My gift to Reeves was making him have dinner with really amazing, inspiring people. We were at dinner from 8pm until 12:15am - and everyone had a great time. Lots of food, lots of wine, lots of LAUGHTER. I heard Reeves talking to his mom the next morning. This is what he said about my friends when she asked who he had dinner with. "Well, Nikki's friend Hollis, who is her best friend from college, or something like that. He films lots of televisions shows and movies. Like the Sopranos, and some other movie that Nikki and Derek liked but Hollis said was terrible. And he probably knows more than they do, so I don't really want to see it. And Hollis's wife, I think her name was Nikki. No, not Nikki, Neesha. And she writes books. I think her book will be pretty interesting, so I want to buy it. Remind me. And then Aunt Nikki and Uncle Derek, and Dad and Billi [my sister]. Oh, and Nikki's friend Lauren, who is INSANE. She is doing an ironman triathlon, which is insane. And Nikki's friend Mike, who is like even smarter than Nikki. He has some connection to Donald Trump [Mike is going to clerk for a 3rd Circuit federal judge, The Honorable Marian Trump Barry, who is Donald Trump's sister], but I can't remember what it is. But he is even smarter than Nikki." Yes, he did tell his mom twice that Mike was even smarter than me. But hell, at least I am being used as a standard for smart.
9. When splitting the bill, I suggested how to split it (Hollis & Neesha came later, and did not drink nearly as much as the rest of us), no one agreed with me and then came up with their own theories of how it should work, but they weren't adding it up right, and then Hollis suggested the same method I had. Lesson #4: Georgetown teaches you something about accounting, even if you are a psych major.
10. We then went to Times Square again, since Reeves missed it due to his migraine. He saw the Late Night with Dave Letterman studio, and Fox News studio, and the giant Toys-R-Us with a ferris wheel inside, and the lights and lights and lights, so many lights that it looked like 1pm on a sunny day, not 1am on a Sunday morning. He loved it.
11. We went to bed at like 2:30am, and except for Derek (who is an early riser), we all slept until Noon. Including the dogs. It was pouring rain, enough so that Deuce did not even want to go outside and Butter just wanted to play in our building hallway. I made everyone eggs and toast and fruit, and we lazily got ready and decided to go to the Museum of Natural History. We made it there by 4:30 (it closes at 5:45). We found out that it is free entrance if you enter the last hour before closing. Lesson #5: Sometimes it pays to sleep in and be lazy. (I need my husband to learn lesson #5!).
12. We had Thai food for dinner - the first time Reeves and Ryan had ever had it. Reeves is an adventurous eater, which is a great quality in a 12 year old. He loved it. So did Ryan. And our waitress loved Ryan because he really did try to pronounce the Thai names of the dishes, but just butchered them, and she giggled so sweetly.
13. We went to our beloved Apartment 138 for dessert, which was delicious. Billi and I tried to take a self-portrait with Reeves' camera, and failed miserably. Billi kept only getting me in the picture, or at most me and her nose (which is not big, I don't mean to imply that, just the angle sucked). If Reeves remembers to send the pics to me, I will share. But if you think that is going to happen, you will need to learn Lesson #6: Don't expect a 12 year old to remember something he says he will do:)
14. Monday was there last day here. I took the day off work, but we still came into the city via subway during rush hour "for the experience," which Reeves was mega excited for. We stopped at Nintendo World, which is only exciting to a 12 year old, or should only be exciting to a 12 year old. We saw the end of the taping of the Today Show. I brought them to my job, and they all loved seeing the NFL offices - the Lombardi trophy, the Super Bowl rings, the historical pictures and magazines and everything. It was really cool.
15. We then took the Staten Island Ferry back and forth in order to see the Statue of Liberty. If you are ever in NY -- remember this tip. Do not take a trip to the Statue of Liberty. It costs tons of money and takes all day and you can't really see it when yuo are right next to it. Take the ferry. It is free, takes about 1 hour (or 90 minutes) to get there and back, and the ride takes you right by the Statue and you can see it perfectly. On the return trip, you have a gorgeous view of the city. Lesson #7: The city is beautiful from the outside looking in, no matter how dirty the streets are.
16. Monday night and Tuesday I was depressed that they were gone. I baked a batch of brownies (with frosting!) and, yes, I ate the whole batch. And I was still depressed.
17. Monday night, and then again Tuesday morning, Derek and I got in a big fight. Probably because I was depressed. Which leads to Lesson #8: Don't tell a woman why she is mad when she thinks she is mad at you. It only makes her more mad!
18. Wednesday morning we made up. Which leads to Lesson #9: Sometimes, you need a good fight in order to experience the fun of making up. So cliche, but so true.