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??