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.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
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.....
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.....
Monday, July 02, 2007
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:)
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:)
Thursday, June 28, 2007
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:)
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:)
Sunday, May 13, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, May 04, 2007
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....
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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).
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
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??
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??
Monday, April 23, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, April 20, 2007
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...
- 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.
- 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."
- 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.
- 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!".
- 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!
- Reeves announced while we were window shopping and checking out the cool brownstones, "I love New York." What a wise wise child.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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!).
- 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.
- 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:)
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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!
- 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.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Can I List 7 More?
I thought I was decisive and came up with seven. Then I closed out of blogger, thinking I would go back later and write about my family's visit to NY and the depression I go through the day after my visitor's leave or I leave them (when I am visiting), but then I couldn't stop thinking of other songs that I l-o-v-e and I couldn't not add them. So here are seven more:
- Fire & Rain - James Taylor
- Moondance - Van Morrison
- Cruisin - D'Angelo
- Let's Get It On - Marvin Gaye
- Tears In Heaven - Eric Clapton
- If I Had Only Known - Reba McIntyre
- Over & Over - Tim McGraw & Nelly
Okay, more soon (not more songs, I mean more posts....).
7 Songs
My friend Tracey (http://morethanaminivanmom.blogspot.com) tagged me to choose my seven favorite songs. Because she recognized the difficulty of this task, and because I like the number 7 (it is one of the "numbers" of my name, under the "science" of numerology), see the list of my seven favorites of today:
- Dance With My Father - Luther Vandross
- Turn Your Lights Down Low -- Bob Marley & Lauryn Hill
- By Your Side -- Sade
- You'll Think of Me -- Keith Urban
- Just Once - James Ingram
- My One & Only Love - John Coltraine and Johnny Hartman
- Lose Yourself -- Eminem
Please note - they aren't all love songs! Which, means I don't discriminate or that this list is not accurate and my mind is at a blank for all those songs that I listen to and turn up and proclaim, "I love this song," before I continue to sing along with my monotone voice. Or both.
More soon.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
We Could All Learn Something from a 7th Grader
In the elevator at work, I saw a poem (via the CNN Captivate screens they have in elevators now) written by a 7th grader:
I was at the beach and pretended to be Miss Universe.
The water was my audience and the sun my spotlight.
I wish I could remember the name of the 7th grader to give proper credit. But I loved it. How wise. How pure. How fun.
I was at the beach and pretended to be Miss Universe.
The water was my audience and the sun my spotlight.
I wish I could remember the name of the 7th grader to give proper credit. But I loved it. How wise. How pure. How fun.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Bad Self Image Day
Many of my posts disappeared. I don't know where they went. I can't get them back. I wrote a long post, and then published it. It wasn't about anything important - just an attempt to re-invigorate my desire to blog. Then I posted it, then it and many other posts just disappeared. Such is life.
I had a slightly off day today. I wasn't upset, wasn't PMSing, wasn't frustrated. I was perfectly happy. But my clothes felt a bit weird - like I didn't coordinate the right outfit, not like they didn't fit. It also felt wintery when it was a fairly warm day. My shoes felt like I have been wearing them for a couple months too long. Actually, they are my favorite work shoes, and I did get them 2 1/2 years ago, and so I guess I have been wearing them for about 1 1/2 years too long, not just a couple months too long. I actually then expected to see that Nine West still offered the exact style when I looked on-line. I love them, and everyone compliments me on them. Of course, Nine West has moved on to other styles:) Anyway, back to my self image day. So my outfit wasn't coordinated right, my shoes felt too old, my hair wasn't quite doing what I wanted it to do. I went shopping at lunch to get this cute top that I saw in the window of BeBe last Friday. I met two former colleagues for lunch, saw the top on my way there, thought about buying it on the way back, but then was walking with my Jon and Brad and felt like it would be way too girly to stop and go shopping. So I didn't. And I thought I would go back and get the top this week. So today I did. Sure enough, BeBe just swept out all its old clothes and brought its new summer line in......This top was short sleeve, although a knit/crochet material, but I guess that doesn't fit "summer." Although it totally could. Anyway, I saw on the sale rack that they had ONE left. It was an extra-small. I am a lot of things. But I am not an extra-small.
But I tried it on anyway, because it looked like it might just fit. And it actually did. It actually looked cute! But I overanalyzed it, and thought it must not be fitting the way it was SUPPOSED to fit, because although I would expect to be a Medium, and would have thought small maybe if it was a really big cut, it just made no sense to buy an extra-small. Yes, this is the same woman who wrote a blog about how I have every size in my closet and as long as it fits, then I buy it and wear it. But today I was off, and feeling in a fashion funk, and so convinced myself not to buy this 1/2 off cute shirt that fit well. And it was the last one. It won't be there tomorrow.
Okay, so I am probably glamorizing it. Maybe it didn't fit perfectly. Maybe it is better that I didn't buy it. But damnit, I wish I did and wish that I could have tried it on again with my James Cured by Suen jeans and seen if I liked it. Especially b/c in the dressing room I thought, "My god, I want liposuction on my arms." And I convinced myself that I had tons of cellulite on my arms. In the dressing room. Then in the gym later and at home tonight I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, and couldn't find the cellulite. So clearly it was the lighting. (That's my story and I am sticking with it). I should have bought that fricking top.
I get this feeling every so often. Maybe twice a year. In fact, I had it back in September. Then I splurged and got some new clothes, and the feelign was cured. I am about to get my bonus, and I swore I would spend it reasonably and wisely and save a chunk of it. But I need a wardrobe update. I am simply tired tired tired of the clothes I have - the work clothes, and the clothes that I go out in. Except my James Cured by Suen jeans, which I l-o-v-e. I couldn't be happier with that investment:)
My sister and her husband and my oldest nephew, Reeves, are visiting this weekend. They get in really early Saturday morning (6 am!) and stay until Monday night. We have plans, and I am really looking forward to having them. This is Reeves' first trip to NYC. My sister and brother in law have visited twice before...once when I lived in Tribeca with 6 other people in a communal living situation, and once when Derek and I lived in the Bronx. We had a blast both times. (In the Bronx, it was for my sister's 31st birthday, and I had my Corporate Tax Law final the day after her birthday, and so I prepared by studying while Derek took them ice skating at Rockefeller Center and then had yaegermaester shots with my sister at SoHa Bar & lounge, and I got an A+ on what was definitely the hardest test I have ever taken since AP Physics my senior year of high school, and possibly physiological psychology during college, and was quite proud of myself b/c it proved that if you relax.....) Anyway, I am excited to have them. Maybe I will have some pictures next week.....
I had a slightly off day today. I wasn't upset, wasn't PMSing, wasn't frustrated. I was perfectly happy. But my clothes felt a bit weird - like I didn't coordinate the right outfit, not like they didn't fit. It also felt wintery when it was a fairly warm day. My shoes felt like I have been wearing them for a couple months too long. Actually, they are my favorite work shoes, and I did get them 2 1/2 years ago, and so I guess I have been wearing them for about 1 1/2 years too long, not just a couple months too long. I actually then expected to see that Nine West still offered the exact style when I looked on-line. I love them, and everyone compliments me on them. Of course, Nine West has moved on to other styles:) Anyway, back to my self image day. So my outfit wasn't coordinated right, my shoes felt too old, my hair wasn't quite doing what I wanted it to do. I went shopping at lunch to get this cute top that I saw in the window of BeBe last Friday. I met two former colleagues for lunch, saw the top on my way there, thought about buying it on the way back, but then was walking with my Jon and Brad and felt like it would be way too girly to stop and go shopping. So I didn't. And I thought I would go back and get the top this week. So today I did. Sure enough, BeBe just swept out all its old clothes and brought its new summer line in......This top was short sleeve, although a knit/crochet material, but I guess that doesn't fit "summer." Although it totally could. Anyway, I saw on the sale rack that they had ONE left. It was an extra-small. I am a lot of things. But I am not an extra-small.
But I tried it on anyway, because it looked like it might just fit. And it actually did. It actually looked cute! But I overanalyzed it, and thought it must not be fitting the way it was SUPPOSED to fit, because although I would expect to be a Medium, and would have thought small maybe if it was a really big cut, it just made no sense to buy an extra-small. Yes, this is the same woman who wrote a blog about how I have every size in my closet and as long as it fits, then I buy it and wear it. But today I was off, and feeling in a fashion funk, and so convinced myself not to buy this 1/2 off cute shirt that fit well. And it was the last one. It won't be there tomorrow.
Okay, so I am probably glamorizing it. Maybe it didn't fit perfectly. Maybe it is better that I didn't buy it. But damnit, I wish I did and wish that I could have tried it on again with my James Cured by Suen jeans and seen if I liked it. Especially b/c in the dressing room I thought, "My god, I want liposuction on my arms." And I convinced myself that I had tons of cellulite on my arms. In the dressing room. Then in the gym later and at home tonight I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, and couldn't find the cellulite. So clearly it was the lighting. (That's my story and I am sticking with it). I should have bought that fricking top.
I get this feeling every so often. Maybe twice a year. In fact, I had it back in September. Then I splurged and got some new clothes, and the feelign was cured. I am about to get my bonus, and I swore I would spend it reasonably and wisely and save a chunk of it. But I need a wardrobe update. I am simply tired tired tired of the clothes I have - the work clothes, and the clothes that I go out in. Except my James Cured by Suen jeans, which I l-o-v-e. I couldn't be happier with that investment:)
My sister and her husband and my oldest nephew, Reeves, are visiting this weekend. They get in really early Saturday morning (6 am!) and stay until Monday night. We have plans, and I am really looking forward to having them. This is Reeves' first trip to NYC. My sister and brother in law have visited twice before...once when I lived in Tribeca with 6 other people in a communal living situation, and once when Derek and I lived in the Bronx. We had a blast both times. (In the Bronx, it was for my sister's 31st birthday, and I had my Corporate Tax Law final the day after her birthday, and so I prepared by studying while Derek took them ice skating at Rockefeller Center and then had yaegermaester shots with my sister at SoHa Bar & lounge, and I got an A+ on what was definitely the hardest test I have ever taken since AP Physics my senior year of high school, and possibly physiological psychology during college, and was quite proud of myself b/c it proved that if you relax.....) Anyway, I am excited to have them. Maybe I will have some pictures next week.....
Saturday, February 24, 2007
101 Things About Me
1. I was born in Broomfield, Colorado.
2. I moved to Pueblo, Colorado when I was about 3.
3. My family belonged to the Minnequa Country Club in Pueblo, and my mom, sister, and brothers would go there every day, all day during the summers.
4. The summer swim team coaches at Minnequa called my family at 7 p.m. one night when I was 5 years old to see if my sister and I wanted to be on the swim team.
5. I said yes because she said yes.
6. At my first meet, even though I knew how to swim perfectly well, I refused to put my head in the water and no one wanted me on their relay team.
7. I ended up being on a relay team with my sister and Heidi and Heather Holter.
8. We got last, because they couldn't make up for me.
9. The next summer I broke all the records for 8 & unders at the Colorado state championship meet.
10. I cried a few times because I thought all the boys at Minnequa Club liked my sister and none liked me.
11. I went to Happy Hands Pre School, and my teacher's name was Mrs. Horny. I kid you not.
12. I had to stay at Happy Hands an extra year before starting kindergarden because I could not say my "r." For a long time, my name was Nikki Hawt.
13. My first crush was Brad Gardner, but I had a list of other crushes at the same time.
14. I think my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Champion, hated me.
15. I always loved school.
16. I always loved bedtime. Literally, I would look forward to it.
17. I would sometimes sleep in my swim suit the night before a swim meet.
18. My sister and I shared a bedroom and a bed while we lived in Pueblo.
19. We had a picture of Andy Gibb in our closet.
20. I slept on the left side of the bed.
21. I still sleep on the left side of the bed.
21.5 I remember the day that Marvin Gaye died. I was in my basement, listening to eight tracks and the radio, and I cried.
22. My family moved to Colorado Springs when I was in 5th grade.
23. Before we moved, I would walk to Pitts Junior High to take the 7th grade math class each day.
24. My sister was in the same math class.
25. In Colorado Springs, my brothers and I were bussed to Washington Elementary (about 10 miles away) as part of socio-economic class integration efforts despite the fact that Jackson Elementary was about 1 mile away. Most the other students at Washington were very poor, aside from those that rode my bus, who were basically middle/lower-middle class.
26. While at Washington Elementary, I was the only person in my math class, which consisted of me sitting on my own during math class doing nothing.
27. My teacher at Washington, Mr. Strom, recommended me for the city's gifted program. No one listened.
28. I dated Chris, who was the best break dancer at school and looked like Kevin Bacon.
29. Aside from saying "yes" when he asked "would you go out with me," I never remember talking to Chris, just holding his hand.
30. In sixth grade I went to Jackson elementary for one week.
31. My teacher recommended me for the city's gifted program. I was accepted.
32. I had the same gym teacher at the gifted school as I had at Washington, Mr. Kaiser.
33. Mr. Kaiser was friends with my swim coach, Coach Christy.
34. Mr. Kaiser would exchange notes between me and my old friends at Washington, Autumn and Olivia.
35. While we lived in Colorado Springs, my sister and I each had our own room.
36. I kicked her door one day and split it in half during a fight.
37. She took the blame.
38. My dad stopped drinking when we lived in Colorado Springs because he didn't want to lose his family. He has never drank again.
39. The house my parents bought in Colorado Springs was built on a faulty foundation and started cracking.
40. They sued the builder, who claimed bankruptcy.
41. My parents later had to claim bankruptcy because of it.
42. After 2 years in Colorado Springs, we moved to California.
43. The first house we rented in California was owned by a former San Diego Charger.
44. It had a pool and horrible wall paper.
45. When we moved into the second house in California, my sister and I shared a 20 x 20 room that was supposed to be a game room.
46. My brothers shared a 11 x 11 bedroom.
47. All of us would use my parents bathroom instead of the one that we all shared.
48. This drove my dad crazy.
49. I was grounded once in my life, for coming home late.
50. My sister took the blame (this time, it was in fact her fault), so I was only grounded for about 45 minutes.
51. I got away with murder in junior high and high school.
52. I never less than an "A" until college.
53. Because I never got less than an "A," I would help my friends get away with murder, too. ("You can't go to Mexico." "But, mom, I am going with Nikki. She's driving." "Oh, okay.")
54. I was the valedictorian of my high school class.
55. Two people boycotted graduation because I was the valedictorian.
56. They boycotted because, basically, my GPA was slighly higher than theirs because I didn't have to take gym (for which you can get no weighted AP grade) because I swam for 4+ hours a day and got independent credits.
57. The speech I gave at graduation was based on a quote by Ralph Waldo Emmerson, "What lies ahead of you, and what lies behind you, is nothing compared to what lies within you." Or something like that.
58. I loved giving that speech.
59. I got accepted everywhere I applied for college, including Harvard.
60. I went to Georgetown, because I felt like I belonged there when I visited.
61. Some people - none of my family or friends - told me this was a mistake.
62. One of my best friends from high school went to Naval Academy, 45 minutes away from Georgtetown.
63. That might have been one reason he wanted me to go to Georgetown and I wanted to go.
64. My freshmen year of college, I did not have much luck making good friends.
65. I missed my high school friends and my family.
66. I was burned out with swimming, but swam because I had a partial swimming scholarship.
67. My life at Georgetown got better with each passing year.
68. I was an academic under-achiever in college.
69. I wish I could re-do a lot of decisions I made during college.
70. I got my heart broken severely my senior year of college.
71. One reason I moved to NY after college was to be with the guy who broke my heart.
72. We were also going to travel around Europe together.
73. So I traveled by myself, and met up with different friends along the way.
74. The trip could not have been better.
75. I got my master's because I did not know what else to do.
76. I taught at a K-12 school because I did not want to practice social work or be a counselor after getting my masters.
77. Deciding that I wanted to be a lawyer for the NFL or some similar sports organization, I decided to go to law school.
78. I read "1000 Great Places to Work With a Law Degree," which reiterated my desire to work at the NFL.
79. I got into every law school I applied, including Columbia and USC.
80. I went to St. John's because they offered me a full scholarship and I already had massive student loan debt (that had increased due to capitalized interest) from my masters program.
81. I was valedictorian of my law school class.
82. Many people (although no family or friends) told me I was making a mistake by going to St. John's and not Columbia.
83. I now work at the NFL - one of my dream jobs.
84. So I guess the people who thought I should go to Harvard undergrad and Columbia law school in order to achieve my dreams were wrong.
85. I met my husband on a blind date.
86. I told him, "I want to go somewhere close to my house, so if I don't like you I can get home quickly." He said, "Fair enough."
87. He thought I was joking.
88. I didn't think he was good looking when I first saw him. (I know, I know, I was wrong.)
89. I did think he had nice legs and his butt looked good in his jeans.
90. After we dated for a year or so, he broke up with me because he thought I was too good for him.
91. We got back together like two weeks later.
92. We got married on July 4, 2002.
93. I was scared of marriage. I am not anymore.
94. At our wedding, my sister gave the best toast I have ever heard.
95. I look just like my dad and my brother Cookie.
96. My brother's nickname, Cookie, came from me not being able to say his real name, Kirk. (See #12 above).
96. By pretending to be confident and outgoing for most of my life, I have become confident and outgoing.
97. Being outgoing feels exhausting to me.
98. The better I know you, the funnier I am.
99. I suck at blogging.
100. For some reason, I keep doing it anyway.
2. I moved to Pueblo, Colorado when I was about 3.
3. My family belonged to the Minnequa Country Club in Pueblo, and my mom, sister, and brothers would go there every day, all day during the summers.
4. The summer swim team coaches at Minnequa called my family at 7 p.m. one night when I was 5 years old to see if my sister and I wanted to be on the swim team.
5. I said yes because she said yes.
6. At my first meet, even though I knew how to swim perfectly well, I refused to put my head in the water and no one wanted me on their relay team.
7. I ended up being on a relay team with my sister and Heidi and Heather Holter.
8. We got last, because they couldn't make up for me.
9. The next summer I broke all the records for 8 & unders at the Colorado state championship meet.
10. I cried a few times because I thought all the boys at Minnequa Club liked my sister and none liked me.
11. I went to Happy Hands Pre School, and my teacher's name was Mrs. Horny. I kid you not.
12. I had to stay at Happy Hands an extra year before starting kindergarden because I could not say my "r." For a long time, my name was Nikki Hawt.
13. My first crush was Brad Gardner, but I had a list of other crushes at the same time.
14. I think my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Champion, hated me.
15. I always loved school.
16. I always loved bedtime. Literally, I would look forward to it.
17. I would sometimes sleep in my swim suit the night before a swim meet.
18. My sister and I shared a bedroom and a bed while we lived in Pueblo.
19. We had a picture of Andy Gibb in our closet.
20. I slept on the left side of the bed.
21. I still sleep on the left side of the bed.
21.5 I remember the day that Marvin Gaye died. I was in my basement, listening to eight tracks and the radio, and I cried.
22. My family moved to Colorado Springs when I was in 5th grade.
23. Before we moved, I would walk to Pitts Junior High to take the 7th grade math class each day.
24. My sister was in the same math class.
25. In Colorado Springs, my brothers and I were bussed to Washington Elementary (about 10 miles away) as part of socio-economic class integration efforts despite the fact that Jackson Elementary was about 1 mile away. Most the other students at Washington were very poor, aside from those that rode my bus, who were basically middle/lower-middle class.
26. While at Washington Elementary, I was the only person in my math class, which consisted of me sitting on my own during math class doing nothing.
27. My teacher at Washington, Mr. Strom, recommended me for the city's gifted program. No one listened.
28. I dated Chris, who was the best break dancer at school and looked like Kevin Bacon.
29. Aside from saying "yes" when he asked "would you go out with me," I never remember talking to Chris, just holding his hand.
30. In sixth grade I went to Jackson elementary for one week.
31. My teacher recommended me for the city's gifted program. I was accepted.
32. I had the same gym teacher at the gifted school as I had at Washington, Mr. Kaiser.
33. Mr. Kaiser was friends with my swim coach, Coach Christy.
34. Mr. Kaiser would exchange notes between me and my old friends at Washington, Autumn and Olivia.
35. While we lived in Colorado Springs, my sister and I each had our own room.
36. I kicked her door one day and split it in half during a fight.
37. She took the blame.
38. My dad stopped drinking when we lived in Colorado Springs because he didn't want to lose his family. He has never drank again.
39. The house my parents bought in Colorado Springs was built on a faulty foundation and started cracking.
40. They sued the builder, who claimed bankruptcy.
41. My parents later had to claim bankruptcy because of it.
42. After 2 years in Colorado Springs, we moved to California.
43. The first house we rented in California was owned by a former San Diego Charger.
44. It had a pool and horrible wall paper.
45. When we moved into the second house in California, my sister and I shared a 20 x 20 room that was supposed to be a game room.
46. My brothers shared a 11 x 11 bedroom.
47. All of us would use my parents bathroom instead of the one that we all shared.
48. This drove my dad crazy.
49. I was grounded once in my life, for coming home late.
50. My sister took the blame (this time, it was in fact her fault), so I was only grounded for about 45 minutes.
51. I got away with murder in junior high and high school.
52. I never less than an "A" until college.
53. Because I never got less than an "A," I would help my friends get away with murder, too. ("You can't go to Mexico." "But, mom, I am going with Nikki. She's driving." "Oh, okay.")
54. I was the valedictorian of my high school class.
55. Two people boycotted graduation because I was the valedictorian.
56. They boycotted because, basically, my GPA was slighly higher than theirs because I didn't have to take gym (for which you can get no weighted AP grade) because I swam for 4+ hours a day and got independent credits.
57. The speech I gave at graduation was based on a quote by Ralph Waldo Emmerson, "What lies ahead of you, and what lies behind you, is nothing compared to what lies within you." Or something like that.
58. I loved giving that speech.
59. I got accepted everywhere I applied for college, including Harvard.
60. I went to Georgetown, because I felt like I belonged there when I visited.
61. Some people - none of my family or friends - told me this was a mistake.
62. One of my best friends from high school went to Naval Academy, 45 minutes away from Georgtetown.
63. That might have been one reason he wanted me to go to Georgetown and I wanted to go.
64. My freshmen year of college, I did not have much luck making good friends.
65. I missed my high school friends and my family.
66. I was burned out with swimming, but swam because I had a partial swimming scholarship.
67. My life at Georgetown got better with each passing year.
68. I was an academic under-achiever in college.
69. I wish I could re-do a lot of decisions I made during college.
70. I got my heart broken severely my senior year of college.
71. One reason I moved to NY after college was to be with the guy who broke my heart.
72. We were also going to travel around Europe together.
73. So I traveled by myself, and met up with different friends along the way.
74. The trip could not have been better.
75. I got my master's because I did not know what else to do.
76. I taught at a K-12 school because I did not want to practice social work or be a counselor after getting my masters.
77. Deciding that I wanted to be a lawyer for the NFL or some similar sports organization, I decided to go to law school.
78. I read "1000 Great Places to Work With a Law Degree," which reiterated my desire to work at the NFL.
79. I got into every law school I applied, including Columbia and USC.
80. I went to St. John's because they offered me a full scholarship and I already had massive student loan debt (that had increased due to capitalized interest) from my masters program.
81. I was valedictorian of my law school class.
82. Many people (although no family or friends) told me I was making a mistake by going to St. John's and not Columbia.
83. I now work at the NFL - one of my dream jobs.
84. So I guess the people who thought I should go to Harvard undergrad and Columbia law school in order to achieve my dreams were wrong.
85. I met my husband on a blind date.
86. I told him, "I want to go somewhere close to my house, so if I don't like you I can get home quickly." He said, "Fair enough."
87. He thought I was joking.
88. I didn't think he was good looking when I first saw him. (I know, I know, I was wrong.)
89. I did think he had nice legs and his butt looked good in his jeans.
90. After we dated for a year or so, he broke up with me because he thought I was too good for him.
91. We got back together like two weeks later.
92. We got married on July 4, 2002.
93. I was scared of marriage. I am not anymore.
94. At our wedding, my sister gave the best toast I have ever heard.
95. I look just like my dad and my brother Cookie.
96. My brother's nickname, Cookie, came from me not being able to say his real name, Kirk. (See #12 above).
96. By pretending to be confident and outgoing for most of my life, I have become confident and outgoing.
97. Being outgoing feels exhausting to me.
98. The better I know you, the funnier I am.
99. I suck at blogging.
100. For some reason, I keep doing it anyway.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Work, Life and Workout Ingredients
What is a workplace environment without a little bit of competition and politics? I'd certainly prefer one lacking in both...but since it doesn't seem that exists, you have to revel in the excitement that those extras at work bring. Back in the day (pre-2000) basically everyone who worked at the NFL went to the Super Bowl. One big party. Then things changed, and now they only send those people with valid work responsibilities (that can't be performed remotely). If you work down there, you take a guest with you.
Anyway, most people don't have responsibilities that overlap with the Super Bowl (and that have to be done on site). I do. I didn't think I would start working the game until 2-3 years into my career here (as I was told when I first started), but because a shift in personnel, both of my bosses pushed for me to get to go this year. It made sense. They need two of us to do anti-counterfeiting work. And because of resignations and department changes, there are two of us that do that work. Anyway, so it was "official" - I was going. I went to all the planning meetings, did all the prep work. Derek stepped aside so my dad could go with us. Up through December - close to Christmas - I was going. Then the execs got worried....they thought it was cause turmoil if someone who had been here just 4-5 months went, while people who have worked 5-7 years still haven't gone. Nevermind the logic that if they did what I do, they could go. But they don't. And so instead of having two people doing the work of two people (or really, the work of four people), they have one person doing the work of 2 people (or 4). Everyone felt bad (and I felt bad for my colleague that had all the work on her shoulders), my bosses pushed for me to get to go, but to no avail. I wasn't remotely worried about this - the worst was really just letting my dad know that plans changed. But in any event...it was decided about 2 weeks before the game that I would be doing work here (and "doing work" proved to be an understatement....my past couple weeks here were crazy busy....I'd leave each day totally wiped out). My "consolation prize" -- which is a good one -- they are pushing for me to go to Pro Bowl next year (if not also Super Bowl). Yes, in Hawaii. Yes, more low-key than Super Bowl, which means the work/enjoyment balance is tipped toward enjoyment! Pretty good prize and I didn't even feel like I needed consoling!.
So we threw our annual Super Bowl party. Last minute invites did not keep people away. We had a house full - about 20-25 people. We supplied the drinks and I baked cookies, and everyone else brought dishes to eat. Chili (meat and veggie), mexican dip, spinach & artichoke dip, chips, chips, chips, hot dogs and vegan hot dogs, chocolate cake. Basically, it was time for gluttony at our house. We all had a good time. New friends, old friends, good neighbors and lots of food makes for a good party (and a good life). 99% of the house was cheering for the Colts, but thank god for the other 1% that kept things interesting. Never really that fun to all be on the same side! We also got to i-chat with some friends in DC before our respective parties began, which proved to kick things off well.
So to work backwards for my story....I've had a busy couple weeks at work. Fairly exhausting, as we all know work can be anywhere, no matter what you do. The last week leading up to SB, I didn't make it to the gym at all (because of how fricking cold it was to run outside or run to the gym, and how busy I was). Saturday I made my special cookie dough to bake on Sunday for the party. While making the dough, I probably ate the equivalent of 12-15 cookies worth of dough. At least. Then, Saturday night I got mad at Derek for something. I don't know what exactly, but it was something valid (I know it was) and not solely due to me being tired or on a sugar-low from the cookie dough. Sunday morning, still a little bitter that he didn't apologize for whatever it was I was mad about, I had a kick-a** run. It was still too cold to run outside, so just on the treadmill at the gym. But 6 miles in 45 minutes, interval work, so felt great. Apparently, cookie dough and anger are good fuel (and the iPod....so nice to run with some music after years of not). Thought I was tired of the cookie dough and inspired by the good run to go back to my usually fairly-healthy ways? Um, no. Think again.
Derek and I made up after the workout, but then I needed to bake the cookies. So probably had about 12 more cookies worth of dough, and tested two of the baked cookies that fell apart (yum). They turned out great. That night, had some chili and about 12 more of my cookies, my friend Lauren's cookies, and my neighbor Kristy's cookies (all delicious). You'd think that would be enough to get me to STOP. Was it? No. I brought all the leftover cookies to work with me on Monday to give away. Since a number of us made gigantic amounts of them, we still had a decent amount left. Throughout the day on Monday, what did I eat? About 8 cookies and an orange. Wonderful. So I went to the gym that night (last night). Despite having survived on a diet of COOKIES since my last workout, I had another great run! I wanted to do some weights/calesthenics and get home early, so didn't run as long. But did some interval work for 25 minutes - and while I am usually feeling good going from 6.5 mph to 8.5 mph, I kept my recovery intervals at 7.5 mph (about 8 minute miles) and my fast intervals all above 9.2 mph(about 6 1/2 minute miles). Go Nikki. So whoever said cookies couldn't fuel a body, they'd be wrong.
I then went home and had a major sugar crash. I never want to eat cookies again, and will be content with my slower intervals and slower runs if that is the tradeoff.
So, I am taking a few days off work next week since the season is over. Derek's schedule is still fairly open, so I am going to surprise him with a few days out of the city before he gets busier. Thanks to a nice tax refund, I have exactly 0% guilt over this. I booked us a B&B in Saugerties, NY (near Woodstock) for two nights, and some 90 minute massages for one of the days we are up there at a nearby spa. The B&B I found by googling "weekend getaways from NYC" and "romantic getaways from NYC." Check out http://www.thevillaatsaugerties.com/ . That is where we will be. Can't wait. My favorite dog walker Julia is going to stay at our house with Butter & Deuce (she is their favorite, too, I believe). So far, Derek knows nothing. Because he has auditions for more instructor positions and may get call backs from the others, I did have to tell him not to plan anything for Feb. 14th-Feb. 16th, but didn't want to tell him more. So i just said, "I am not sure. I was just told there might be some big event for work, but I have no idea. I just know it might be one of those days." He asked if it involved the Commissioner, his wife (Jane Skinner - a newscaster), and a jet....and I said, "Who knows. It might. I have no idea." So hopefully he is not disappointed with a car ride, The Studio at The Villa at Saugerties, and me:).
Anyway, most people don't have responsibilities that overlap with the Super Bowl (and that have to be done on site). I do. I didn't think I would start working the game until 2-3 years into my career here (as I was told when I first started), but because a shift in personnel, both of my bosses pushed for me to get to go this year. It made sense. They need two of us to do anti-counterfeiting work. And because of resignations and department changes, there are two of us that do that work. Anyway, so it was "official" - I was going. I went to all the planning meetings, did all the prep work. Derek stepped aside so my dad could go with us. Up through December - close to Christmas - I was going. Then the execs got worried....they thought it was cause turmoil if someone who had been here just 4-5 months went, while people who have worked 5-7 years still haven't gone. Nevermind the logic that if they did what I do, they could go. But they don't. And so instead of having two people doing the work of two people (or really, the work of four people), they have one person doing the work of 2 people (or 4). Everyone felt bad (and I felt bad for my colleague that had all the work on her shoulders), my bosses pushed for me to get to go, but to no avail. I wasn't remotely worried about this - the worst was really just letting my dad know that plans changed. But in any event...it was decided about 2 weeks before the game that I would be doing work here (and "doing work" proved to be an understatement....my past couple weeks here were crazy busy....I'd leave each day totally wiped out). My "consolation prize" -- which is a good one -- they are pushing for me to go to Pro Bowl next year (if not also Super Bowl). Yes, in Hawaii. Yes, more low-key than Super Bowl, which means the work/enjoyment balance is tipped toward enjoyment! Pretty good prize and I didn't even feel like I needed consoling!.
So we threw our annual Super Bowl party. Last minute invites did not keep people away. We had a house full - about 20-25 people. We supplied the drinks and I baked cookies, and everyone else brought dishes to eat. Chili (meat and veggie), mexican dip, spinach & artichoke dip, chips, chips, chips, hot dogs and vegan hot dogs, chocolate cake. Basically, it was time for gluttony at our house. We all had a good time. New friends, old friends, good neighbors and lots of food makes for a good party (and a good life). 99% of the house was cheering for the Colts, but thank god for the other 1% that kept things interesting. Never really that fun to all be on the same side! We also got to i-chat with some friends in DC before our respective parties began, which proved to kick things off well.
So to work backwards for my story....I've had a busy couple weeks at work. Fairly exhausting, as we all know work can be anywhere, no matter what you do. The last week leading up to SB, I didn't make it to the gym at all (because of how fricking cold it was to run outside or run to the gym, and how busy I was). Saturday I made my special cookie dough to bake on Sunday for the party. While making the dough, I probably ate the equivalent of 12-15 cookies worth of dough. At least. Then, Saturday night I got mad at Derek for something. I don't know what exactly, but it was something valid (I know it was) and not solely due to me being tired or on a sugar-low from the cookie dough. Sunday morning, still a little bitter that he didn't apologize for whatever it was I was mad about, I had a kick-a** run. It was still too cold to run outside, so just on the treadmill at the gym. But 6 miles in 45 minutes, interval work, so felt great. Apparently, cookie dough and anger are good fuel (and the iPod....so nice to run with some music after years of not). Thought I was tired of the cookie dough and inspired by the good run to go back to my usually fairly-healthy ways? Um, no. Think again.
Derek and I made up after the workout, but then I needed to bake the cookies. So probably had about 12 more cookies worth of dough, and tested two of the baked cookies that fell apart (yum). They turned out great. That night, had some chili and about 12 more of my cookies, my friend Lauren's cookies, and my neighbor Kristy's cookies (all delicious). You'd think that would be enough to get me to STOP. Was it? No. I brought all the leftover cookies to work with me on Monday to give away. Since a number of us made gigantic amounts of them, we still had a decent amount left. Throughout the day on Monday, what did I eat? About 8 cookies and an orange. Wonderful. So I went to the gym that night (last night). Despite having survived on a diet of COOKIES since my last workout, I had another great run! I wanted to do some weights/calesthenics and get home early, so didn't run as long. But did some interval work for 25 minutes - and while I am usually feeling good going from 6.5 mph to 8.5 mph, I kept my recovery intervals at 7.5 mph (about 8 minute miles) and my fast intervals all above 9.2 mph(about 6 1/2 minute miles). Go Nikki. So whoever said cookies couldn't fuel a body, they'd be wrong.
I then went home and had a major sugar crash. I never want to eat cookies again, and will be content with my slower intervals and slower runs if that is the tradeoff.
So, I am taking a few days off work next week since the season is over. Derek's schedule is still fairly open, so I am going to surprise him with a few days out of the city before he gets busier. Thanks to a nice tax refund, I have exactly 0% guilt over this. I booked us a B&B in Saugerties, NY (near Woodstock) for two nights, and some 90 minute massages for one of the days we are up there at a nearby spa. The B&B I found by googling "weekend getaways from NYC" and "romantic getaways from NYC." Check out http://www.thevillaatsaugerties.com/ . That is where we will be. Can't wait. My favorite dog walker Julia is going to stay at our house with Butter & Deuce (she is their favorite, too, I believe). So far, Derek knows nothing. Because he has auditions for more instructor positions and may get call backs from the others, I did have to tell him not to plan anything for Feb. 14th-Feb. 16th, but didn't want to tell him more. So i just said, "I am not sure. I was just told there might be some big event for work, but I have no idea. I just know it might be one of those days." He asked if it involved the Commissioner, his wife (Jane Skinner - a newscaster), and a jet....and I said, "Who knows. It might. I have no idea." So hopefully he is not disappointed with a car ride, The Studio at The Villa at Saugerties, and me:).
Monday, January 29, 2007
One Word Descriptions...
So I asked some friends and family to give me one word that describes me. I have to say, it made my Monday a little better than most Mondays. It reminded me of the story where the teacher had every student in her class right one word to describe each of their classmates, and she later found out that most of the students kept their "list" their entire lives. It does feel good, of course, to have nice things said about you. And it also feels nice and redeeming to see that others see how how you see yourself, and sometimes even better.
My mom described me as "positive." I loved this because I do try to be positive - it is a quality that I am not sure comes naturally, but that I have always wanted.
From various friends, I received "compassionate," "vibrant," and "intellectual." I see myself as the first - sometimes painfully so - and "vibrant" is one of those descriptions where your friends see you in a better life than you see yourself. Flattering!, especially from someone who herself is so vibrant. "Intellectual" made me laugh, because it came from a friend who perpetually used all my notes in college (yes, that might be why he considers me a friend). During a conversation with him the other day, I couldn't remember the words "door knob" or "hinge" when we were talking about doors (ie, changing the knobs and hinges in our apartment). So I am not sure if he was being sarcastic or serious:) I also got "surprising" -- which I took as a compliment (and then copied, and said about one of my friends).
I was called, "vivacious," which I loved and actually looked it up to pinpoint all the things it encompasses. Of course, it came from a writer who knows the strength of certain words - so was also flattering.
I was called "grounded" and "down-to-earth." I love both of those descriptions. Because I see myself as such, it was nice to know that others not only see that in me, but respect it! However, I did remind my friend that said "down-to-earth" that the phrase is three words, not one. We argued whether the dashes changed that fact, and I won the argument. He then called me "sore-loser," which I reminded him was two words, then "know-it-all," which again was three, then "b****." This is the kind of affection I love from some of my male friends.
And, as for the words I gave my friends and family so far....caring, inspiring, dynamic, beautiful, fun, thoughtful, witty, surprising, solid, integrity, deep, generous, insightful. I learn my good qualities from all of them!
My mom described me as "positive." I loved this because I do try to be positive - it is a quality that I am not sure comes naturally, but that I have always wanted.
From various friends, I received "compassionate," "vibrant," and "intellectual." I see myself as the first - sometimes painfully so - and "vibrant" is one of those descriptions where your friends see you in a better life than you see yourself. Flattering!, especially from someone who herself is so vibrant. "Intellectual" made me laugh, because it came from a friend who perpetually used all my notes in college (yes, that might be why he considers me a friend). During a conversation with him the other day, I couldn't remember the words "door knob" or "hinge" when we were talking about doors (ie, changing the knobs and hinges in our apartment). So I am not sure if he was being sarcastic or serious:) I also got "surprising" -- which I took as a compliment (and then copied, and said about one of my friends).
I was called, "vivacious," which I loved and actually looked it up to pinpoint all the things it encompasses. Of course, it came from a writer who knows the strength of certain words - so was also flattering.
I was called "grounded" and "down-to-earth." I love both of those descriptions. Because I see myself as such, it was nice to know that others not only see that in me, but respect it! However, I did remind my friend that said "down-to-earth" that the phrase is three words, not one. We argued whether the dashes changed that fact, and I won the argument. He then called me "sore-loser," which I reminded him was two words, then "know-it-all," which again was three, then "b****." This is the kind of affection I love from some of my male friends.
And, as for the words I gave my friends and family so far....caring, inspiring, dynamic, beautiful, fun, thoughtful, witty, surprising, solid, integrity, deep, generous, insightful. I learn my good qualities from all of them!
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Thoughtful Saturday.....
In the process of downloading music to our new computer, I've become very emotional the past few days. Well, okay, PMS is contributing, but the music is the major factor! It is, I swear. I've had so much fun getting all the music that I love listening to...and for those of you who know me well, you know that I love love-songs. I am addicted to them! Needless to say, there has been a lot of downloading of lots of slow, emotional, painful, beautiful songs. And it reminds me of driving my car, listening to KYXY love songs in San Diego, or the equivalent in New York (106.7). And I love it.
I've also listened to some songs that I haven't listened to in a long while...and it reminds me how much I like them. Love them, actually. Some of my favorite highlights so far are: (1) The Sweetest Thing - Sade, (2) Just Once - James Ingram, (3) Beautiful Disaster - Randi Driscoll, (4) I Just Want To Be (Your Everything) - Andy Gibb (which, by the way, was the first concert I ever went to when I was 5 years old...Andy Gibb...with my mom, her friend, and my sister), (5) Never Again - Justin Timberlake, (6) Collide - Howie Day, (7) 100 Ways - James Ingram, (8) The Promise - Tracy Chapman....silly of me to list these, because now I want to list the 100 others I am thinking of too.
And then there is "What Matters" by Randi Driscoll. Randi Driscoll has two albums out -- one that she basically produced herself, and the other that was recently released by an independent record label. She has an amazing voice, and many are surprised that she has never been picked up by a major label. In any event, she wrote this song in response to the Matthew Shepherd killing - and proceeds of the song go to a charity set up in honor of Matthew Shepherd (I hope I am not getting his name wrong). It asks, simply, does it matter who each of us love?
When I was a freshmen in college, I briefly dated a guy named Scott who was (is) black. At the time, of course, my parents were 3000 miles away and couldn't just get what was going on in my love life by observation, as they had during high school. When I told my parents about him - I think they gathered that he was black, I am not sure I told them directly. My dad simply asked me, "So, is he nice to you?" I said yes, and he said that was all that mattered to him. It wasn't all that mattered - it bothered him, I would later find out - but that was the only thing he wanted to matter to him. Whether his daughter was being treated well.
The conversation didn't really every come up again. My other boyfriends/love interests/crushes, both before and after Scott, were white for the most part -- certainly any of those that I got into a real relationship with. Then I met Derek. And again, when my dad met Derek, he only said he cared that Derek treated me well. Then he got to know Derek - and over time, I suppose, that really did become all my dad cared about.
Years into my relationship with Derek, my dad said to me that I've taught him so many things. I forced him to open his mind in ways he never thought he would. Mind you, I didn't know I was doing this. He never said one negative thing to me about any guy I dated - including Scott or Derek. I was just falling in love with guys that were nice, funny, kind, and good looking (and, yes, the occasional a**hole). Derek was no different than Julius when I was 14 or Cameron when I was 17 or Kurt when I was 21 or John when I was 23-- he was just black, they were white. My dad said that even though he felt certain negative things about his daughter being in an inter-racial relationship, he didn't want to feel those things. So he forced himself to grow up, to open his mind. And then as he got to know Derek, he realized (his words) that he couldn't ask for someone better for his daughter. Okay, maybe Derek could have been a millionaire, but we'll forgive him that. But from my dad's perspective -- and mind you, I am my dad's little girl -- Derek treats me like a princess. And on top of that, he is just really nice to everyone else too. My dad always knew what mattered, and he worked at adopting beliefs he knew were right. For that, I admire him. And I appreciate that he fought against the beliefs that surronded him, beliefs that maybe others of his generation wouldn't have questioned. I appreciate that he never let me know anything but what did really matter. I appreciate that my grandparents - both sides - raised my parents to be as open minded as they are and taught them to care about what does matter - treating people well.
In 1967, when Derek was two years old, it was illegal in some states for people of different races to marry. It was illegal for Derek and I to get married. Illegal for my friend Tom (of Korean decent) to marry Kelly (who is white). It was illegal for a Mexican-American to marry someone who was white. The only person who could marry someone white was someone else who fits that ill-defined but ever important defintion of "white." In 1967, the Supreme Court ruled that such prohibitions on marriage were unconstitutional. I wonder how we can possibly be having this same debate today. Yes, denying the right of marriage to people based on their skin color, their sexual orientation, their economic class, their nationality -- it is unconstitutional. Is it so hard for us to figure this out?
None of my friends, but some random acquaintances (or cousins!) have asked me, "What is it like dating a black man?" Inside, I roll my eyes in disgust and curse at their ignorance, while, in reality, I control my tongue and say "I only know what it is like to date nice guys. Derek's one of them." Then I remind myself when I am thinking how ridiculous these people are that even Oprah -- yes, Oprah -- lowered her special on "inter-racial couples" to asking quesstions like whether the sex was different, what it was like to eat soul food, and basically the "what is it like" question in diffferent forms. Yes, we have our differences - we have different backgrounds. Different families. Different habits. Different ideas. Different desires, different tolerances, different thresholds for pain, intimacy, annoyance, noise, emotion. Sounds like pretty much every couple you know, huh? My marriage is unique like every couple's is unique, and has the same commonalities (is that a word? i want it to be) as other couples' relationships.
A friend of mine from college, who is gay and lives in LA, was visiting NY a couple months ago. We all went to dinner, and he was telling us (Derek and I) about a date he went on with a guy here in New York. He was talking about the first date jitters, the nerves, the butterflies in his stomach. He was debating what his next steps should be - should he call? Should he wait for the call? He was surprised at how much he liked (likes) the guy. Derek and I gave easy advice -- call him! -- but we realized it was easier said than done. We couldn't really relate. Not because we aren't gay -- because we have been fricking together since 1997. We haven't been at the beginning of a relationship since October of 1997! On our walk home, when we thought back to 9 years ago -- we remembered those feelings so vividly. In fact, Derek did go through the debate, "Should I call her? Should I wait for her to call?" He debated and couldn't reach a decision, so he called me and hung up when I answered!!! (Yes, he did, and I totally knew it was him at the time, and I thought it was cute and vulnerable. But annoying:)).
So that is all why this downloading all my favorite songs is very tiring and emotional. I am know trying to find "Sometimes When We Touch" by Dan Hill. How can that song not be on iTunes?? I need to go focus my search....
I've also listened to some songs that I haven't listened to in a long while...and it reminds me how much I like them. Love them, actually. Some of my favorite highlights so far are: (1) The Sweetest Thing - Sade, (2) Just Once - James Ingram, (3) Beautiful Disaster - Randi Driscoll, (4) I Just Want To Be (Your Everything) - Andy Gibb (which, by the way, was the first concert I ever went to when I was 5 years old...Andy Gibb...with my mom, her friend, and my sister), (5) Never Again - Justin Timberlake, (6) Collide - Howie Day, (7) 100 Ways - James Ingram, (8) The Promise - Tracy Chapman....silly of me to list these, because now I want to list the 100 others I am thinking of too.
And then there is "What Matters" by Randi Driscoll. Randi Driscoll has two albums out -- one that she basically produced herself, and the other that was recently released by an independent record label. She has an amazing voice, and many are surprised that she has never been picked up by a major label. In any event, she wrote this song in response to the Matthew Shepherd killing - and proceeds of the song go to a charity set up in honor of Matthew Shepherd (I hope I am not getting his name wrong). It asks, simply, does it matter who each of us love?
When I was a freshmen in college, I briefly dated a guy named Scott who was (is) black. At the time, of course, my parents were 3000 miles away and couldn't just get what was going on in my love life by observation, as they had during high school. When I told my parents about him - I think they gathered that he was black, I am not sure I told them directly. My dad simply asked me, "So, is he nice to you?" I said yes, and he said that was all that mattered to him. It wasn't all that mattered - it bothered him, I would later find out - but that was the only thing he wanted to matter to him. Whether his daughter was being treated well.
The conversation didn't really every come up again. My other boyfriends/love interests/crushes, both before and after Scott, were white for the most part -- certainly any of those that I got into a real relationship with. Then I met Derek. And again, when my dad met Derek, he only said he cared that Derek treated me well. Then he got to know Derek - and over time, I suppose, that really did become all my dad cared about.
Years into my relationship with Derek, my dad said to me that I've taught him so many things. I forced him to open his mind in ways he never thought he would. Mind you, I didn't know I was doing this. He never said one negative thing to me about any guy I dated - including Scott or Derek. I was just falling in love with guys that were nice, funny, kind, and good looking (and, yes, the occasional a**hole). Derek was no different than Julius when I was 14 or Cameron when I was 17 or Kurt when I was 21 or John when I was 23-- he was just black, they were white. My dad said that even though he felt certain negative things about his daughter being in an inter-racial relationship, he didn't want to feel those things. So he forced himself to grow up, to open his mind. And then as he got to know Derek, he realized (his words) that he couldn't ask for someone better for his daughter. Okay, maybe Derek could have been a millionaire, but we'll forgive him that. But from my dad's perspective -- and mind you, I am my dad's little girl -- Derek treats me like a princess. And on top of that, he is just really nice to everyone else too. My dad always knew what mattered, and he worked at adopting beliefs he knew were right. For that, I admire him. And I appreciate that he fought against the beliefs that surronded him, beliefs that maybe others of his generation wouldn't have questioned. I appreciate that he never let me know anything but what did really matter. I appreciate that my grandparents - both sides - raised my parents to be as open minded as they are and taught them to care about what does matter - treating people well.
In 1967, when Derek was two years old, it was illegal in some states for people of different races to marry. It was illegal for Derek and I to get married. Illegal for my friend Tom (of Korean decent) to marry Kelly (who is white). It was illegal for a Mexican-American to marry someone who was white. The only person who could marry someone white was someone else who fits that ill-defined but ever important defintion of "white." In 1967, the Supreme Court ruled that such prohibitions on marriage were unconstitutional. I wonder how we can possibly be having this same debate today. Yes, denying the right of marriage to people based on their skin color, their sexual orientation, their economic class, their nationality -- it is unconstitutional. Is it so hard for us to figure this out?
None of my friends, but some random acquaintances (or cousins!) have asked me, "What is it like dating a black man?" Inside, I roll my eyes in disgust and curse at their ignorance, while, in reality, I control my tongue and say "I only know what it is like to date nice guys. Derek's one of them." Then I remind myself when I am thinking how ridiculous these people are that even Oprah -- yes, Oprah -- lowered her special on "inter-racial couples" to asking quesstions like whether the sex was different, what it was like to eat soul food, and basically the "what is it like" question in diffferent forms. Yes, we have our differences - we have different backgrounds. Different families. Different habits. Different ideas. Different desires, different tolerances, different thresholds for pain, intimacy, annoyance, noise, emotion. Sounds like pretty much every couple you know, huh? My marriage is unique like every couple's is unique, and has the same commonalities (is that a word? i want it to be) as other couples' relationships.
A friend of mine from college, who is gay and lives in LA, was visiting NY a couple months ago. We all went to dinner, and he was telling us (Derek and I) about a date he went on with a guy here in New York. He was talking about the first date jitters, the nerves, the butterflies in his stomach. He was debating what his next steps should be - should he call? Should he wait for the call? He was surprised at how much he liked (likes) the guy. Derek and I gave easy advice -- call him! -- but we realized it was easier said than done. We couldn't really relate. Not because we aren't gay -- because we have been fricking together since 1997. We haven't been at the beginning of a relationship since October of 1997! On our walk home, when we thought back to 9 years ago -- we remembered those feelings so vividly. In fact, Derek did go through the debate, "Should I call her? Should I wait for her to call?" He debated and couldn't reach a decision, so he called me and hung up when I answered!!! (Yes, he did, and I totally knew it was him at the time, and I thought it was cute and vulnerable. But annoying:)).
So that is all why this downloading all my favorite songs is very tiring and emotional. I am know trying to find "Sometimes When We Touch" by Dan Hill. How can that song not be on iTunes?? I need to go focus my search....
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
State of the Union
Playing on the internet - doing some work - while listening to the State of the Union. I was about to lambast GW, but right at that moment he turned his speech and attention to Dikembe Motumbo. Whom I love, and I think deserves a ton of credit for his achievements, intelligence, kindness, and humanitarian efforts. So I will at least pause for a moment before I say anything else....
....
Now, why does GW sound exactly the same all the time? Why? Doesn't he hear himself. He can't say a sentence with any other cadence, tone, rhythm than he said the last one. It drives me crazy - for many reasons - not the least of which that the cadence, tone, and rhythm does not contain one ounce of genuine passion or intelligence. The cadence and tone do not vibrate from the substance contained within his words. In fact, his speeches and words contain very little substance. I hope 2008 finds us someone better (it is hard to imagine anyone could be worse). 49 minutes of nothing.
Can we please have a president who does not end his State of the Union with "God Bless."
Question. I might be politically naive, but I have been wondering this. Why don't Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton join forces and run as a team together in 2008? There seems little doubt that they will be the democratic front runners. By joining forces, they certainly create a power team that will unify some votes. I prefer Obama to Hillary (although I disagree with him on the "civil union" issue - why support a policy that is essentially the failed "separate but equal" policy previously found unconstitutional? I understand not wanting to rock the boat as a politician, but still...), but I think together they make a statement that might elude democrats otherwise (although I would hope not). And fault him all you like, I like Bill Clinton - and Hillary basically gets him back in office. I don't know. I am not thinking this one through, because I am tired, but I just want so much better in our presidency than we have now.
One commentator just said, "There were so many sad echos of things he [GW] said in the past." Ah, how accurate. Great statement.
On another note - the woman sitting next to me on the subway tonight was knitting. She paused from knitting to "fix" her hair, and kept the knitting needle in her hand while she did this and poke me in the face with it. Not once. Not twice. Three times! Apparently, I should not have said "No worries" after she apologized the first time. There are, in fact, some occasions where "no worries" is not an appropriate statement. But it just comes out! Out of habit:)
....
Now, why does GW sound exactly the same all the time? Why? Doesn't he hear himself. He can't say a sentence with any other cadence, tone, rhythm than he said the last one. It drives me crazy - for many reasons - not the least of which that the cadence, tone, and rhythm does not contain one ounce of genuine passion or intelligence. The cadence and tone do not vibrate from the substance contained within his words. In fact, his speeches and words contain very little substance. I hope 2008 finds us someone better (it is hard to imagine anyone could be worse). 49 minutes of nothing.
Can we please have a president who does not end his State of the Union with "God Bless."
Question. I might be politically naive, but I have been wondering this. Why don't Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton join forces and run as a team together in 2008? There seems little doubt that they will be the democratic front runners. By joining forces, they certainly create a power team that will unify some votes. I prefer Obama to Hillary (although I disagree with him on the "civil union" issue - why support a policy that is essentially the failed "separate but equal" policy previously found unconstitutional? I understand not wanting to rock the boat as a politician, but still...), but I think together they make a statement that might elude democrats otherwise (although I would hope not). And fault him all you like, I like Bill Clinton - and Hillary basically gets him back in office. I don't know. I am not thinking this one through, because I am tired, but I just want so much better in our presidency than we have now.
One commentator just said, "There were so many sad echos of things he [GW] said in the past." Ah, how accurate. Great statement.
On another note - the woman sitting next to me on the subway tonight was knitting. She paused from knitting to "fix" her hair, and kept the knitting needle in her hand while she did this and poke me in the face with it. Not once. Not twice. Three times! Apparently, I should not have said "No worries" after she apologized the first time. There are, in fact, some occasions where "no worries" is not an appropriate statement. But it just comes out! Out of habit:)
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Answers and More
I know I emailed some of you the answers to my blog, but not all of you. So here they are with a little added something (aka, digressions). First, I have to say, I know the test was hard. Really, I realized no one but possibly Derek even stood a chance at getting all of them right. I rarely talk about the names that I would name my children with anyone other than Derek or my sister - mostly because I am of the mind that if you say the name too many times before you have a child, you grow tired of it. And I don't want to grow tired of the names I like:) Second, as Derek, my brother, and my sister correctly pointed out - a couple of the questions technically had two answers. There were better choices - answers that were "most correct" -- for them. But I admit, they were done in haste and weren't foolproof. So....sorry:) But, on the bright side, everyone got at least one answer right which was extremely impressive to me! Here are the answers ... although possibly not in the order that appeared on the test since I don't have it in front of me and can't pull it up for some reason...
Tattoos--I used to have two. A halo with angel wings on my lower back (left side) and a butterfly with chinese characters on the inside of my right arm (which, I believe, meant strenth, love, and beautiful woman). I got the first one my senior year of college, and cried because it was 10 times bigger than I wanted it to be. The artist took some creative freedoms and apparently enjoyed drawing on my lower back/butt! The second I got the next year and loved it. After about 10 years, a little less, I just simply grew tired of them. I didn't regret getting them - but just didn't want to see them anymore. I wanted my clear skin back.....so ended up getting them both removed. So I no longer have any. However, I could use another treatment or two on my back one, so you can see it a bit, so maybe I lied a bit here. But I don't think so.
Basketball -- I have never taken a class in basketball. I coached basketball when I was a teacher, and didn't even know what a "pick" or a "screen" was, let alone the theories behind which zone defenses were appropriate to use and when. So I faked it, and with the help of my friend Mike (who was my assistant coach the second year, but really was the coach) and my colleague Tim, I faked it pretty well. But I never never never let the girls (high school girls!) see me shoot.
Swimming -- My best event was the 400IM. I swam year round from the age of 6 until the end of college, and really peaked probably from the ages of 12-16. I was quite burned out by the time I got to college, but still did it because "a swimmer" had always been part of my identity. So in my glory days, the 400IM was really my premiere event, although due to the nature of the event (all four strokes, distance), I was versatile and did well at any distance free event and the 200s of the strokes...
Trophies/Medals -- My parents kept them for me for a long time. I didn't have space for them in NY, so my parents kept boxes of trophies, medals, ribbons. Finally, at the end of college and the beginning of my masters program, I coached a novice swim team, and in addition to the "new" awards each of the kids got, I would give them each some of my old medals and trophies. It was actually very cool to do, especially because times have changed and medals aren't given out at every swim meet for these kids. ANyway, I did lie a bit though. I did keep the most special ones - ones that represented bigger accomplishments and accolades. So there are some trophies sitting in my parents basement, still.
First Kiss -- Jonas Kruckeberg. He was a year older than me, a year younger than my sister, and hung out with a guy that she liked at the time. He came over to our house one day, when I was not there, and saw some of the swimming medals/trophies/ribbons out (there was a time I displayed them a bit more::)) - and somehow decided he loved me based on that. He made my sister set us up on a date, which she did - without any thought to my well being. He was crazy, and much much much more experienced than me at the time. Not to mention he looked like a man. So we went out. I wore white pants and this blue and green swirly shirt that showed a bit of my stomach -- very classy and oh so 80s -- and we went on a walk and he picked up a cheesy flower to put behind my ear and kissed me. Not sure I liked it so much - because I was kind of scared of him. And I should have been.....I'll save all the reasons why for another blog, another time, and you will certainly laugh:) Julius was a high school boyfriend and friend, Reed was a high school crush and friend, and Chris (the one I was thinking of when I wrote those answers) was a 5th grade boyfriend who was the best breakdancer in school (he was actually in 6th grade, I was in 5th) who often wore parachute pants, and who wanted to kiss me after band practice (i played the saxophone, he played the drums) but I chickened out and said I had to go because my dad was waiting for me outside. He wasn't - I think he was in fact an hour late picking me up - so I hid in the bushes to pretend like I was gone!:)
College - I went to Georgetown. I did not apply to Stanford because I didn't want to go to school in California (where I basically grew up). I never considered West Point. When I went on my recruiting trip to Harvard, I was miserable so didn't really consider it despite some people telling me that was crazy. Air Force Academy was recruiting me too, and my dad really wanted me to consider it, so I did. And, actually, I loved loved loved the swim coach, Casey Converse. If I was going to pick who to swim for, it probably would have been him and I might not have "peaked" at the age of 16. He was awesome. And I actually had fun on my recruiting trip, and liked the people I met. However, of course, there was that whole issue of being a military academy and serving in the military afterwards. Yes, basically, not so much my thing.
Broken bones -- Four toes, and a nose. I broke my toes -- all four left toes except my big one -- my junior year of college at the Big East Conference championships. I walked into a steel pole (part of a lifeguard stand) and my toes turned perpendicular to my foot. 2 minutes later, my foot was black and blue and swelled to 3/4 the size of a baseball. 5 minutes later, I had to swim my 400IM (yes, that would be my best event). As I mentioned, I was much better in high school than in college. Much. Had I been as fast in college, I would have held most school records at the time. My junior year, I had decided that if I was going to do this - I wanted to do it right - and I worked hard to try to re-achieve that level and break at least the 400 IM record. And this would have been where I did it. Well, I didn't break it - I don't even remember swimming the event. I just remember standing on the blocks on one foot, basically, and cryiing, and all the coaches were behind the block encouraging me. I pushed off each wall with one foot. I think I was like 1/2 second off the record or something. And that, my friends, was the end of my swimming career. I just didn't have it in me after that. My nose I broke when I was like 6 and we lived in Pueblo, Colorado. My sister and I were running to our friend Stacy's house, and I slipped on the ice and fell on the cement steps leading up to her front door. My sister said, "Oh, your nose is bleeding." When I felt by my nostrils, there was no blood. So she said, "No, up by your eyes." And sure enough, gushing blood and the feel of a misplaced nose. My dad popped it back into place. We have pictures - which are all the better because at the time (like 1979 or so), my sister and I had afros. Not perms, not wavey hair. Afros. Yes, beautiful. My parents were young (are young) and we were certainly immersed into the disco era.
Middle names (male and female) -- I love the middle name James for a girl. I like the way it sounds with all the first names I think of (which, I can't say, as per my policy alluded to above). And, I like the middle name Lorin for a boy. My friend Dave's middle name is Lorin, and my friend Lauren's name is of course the female version. It rings of happiness, charm, and distinction for me, and goes with the first names I think of. However, Derek reminds me that he hates the name (no offense to Dave or Lauren) so I might not be able to use that middle name, and he also reminded me that I do like the middle name Isabell as well. But not as much as James! And this is my test, not reality, and we aren't expecting any children, so I don't think I lied at all on the answers:)
Song That Sends Me Home -- Come On Eileen. I could not hate a song more!!!
So, that is it. Tied with Derek for first place was baby Lillian, who I believe got a little help/inside info from her mom, Agatha -- who does know me just about as well as anyone possibly could, including those things that I would never share on the test or on this blog:) My sister and one of my brothers were next in line after Agatha, which seemed to make sense. And everyone got at least two - which made me feel like I have very attentive friends:) Thank you!!
So I'll leave this post at that for now, since Derek just got home with the groceries (I love him, he went shopping for us and didn't make me go, too. I love him) and I should help put them away.
I might have pictures to share later, as well as my two cents about Grey's Anatomy and American Idol (my prediction for one of next season's top ten finalists, if not winner!). I've never watched American Idol before, but Derek and I got sucked in this week.
Tattoos--I used to have two. A halo with angel wings on my lower back (left side) and a butterfly with chinese characters on the inside of my right arm (which, I believe, meant strenth, love, and beautiful woman). I got the first one my senior year of college, and cried because it was 10 times bigger than I wanted it to be. The artist took some creative freedoms and apparently enjoyed drawing on my lower back/butt! The second I got the next year and loved it. After about 10 years, a little less, I just simply grew tired of them. I didn't regret getting them - but just didn't want to see them anymore. I wanted my clear skin back.....so ended up getting them both removed. So I no longer have any. However, I could use another treatment or two on my back one, so you can see it a bit, so maybe I lied a bit here. But I don't think so.
Basketball -- I have never taken a class in basketball. I coached basketball when I was a teacher, and didn't even know what a "pick" or a "screen" was, let alone the theories behind which zone defenses were appropriate to use and when. So I faked it, and with the help of my friend Mike (who was my assistant coach the second year, but really was the coach) and my colleague Tim, I faked it pretty well. But I never never never let the girls (high school girls!) see me shoot.
Swimming -- My best event was the 400IM. I swam year round from the age of 6 until the end of college, and really peaked probably from the ages of 12-16. I was quite burned out by the time I got to college, but still did it because "a swimmer" had always been part of my identity. So in my glory days, the 400IM was really my premiere event, although due to the nature of the event (all four strokes, distance), I was versatile and did well at any distance free event and the 200s of the strokes...
Trophies/Medals -- My parents kept them for me for a long time. I didn't have space for them in NY, so my parents kept boxes of trophies, medals, ribbons. Finally, at the end of college and the beginning of my masters program, I coached a novice swim team, and in addition to the "new" awards each of the kids got, I would give them each some of my old medals and trophies. It was actually very cool to do, especially because times have changed and medals aren't given out at every swim meet for these kids. ANyway, I did lie a bit though. I did keep the most special ones - ones that represented bigger accomplishments and accolades. So there are some trophies sitting in my parents basement, still.
First Kiss -- Jonas Kruckeberg. He was a year older than me, a year younger than my sister, and hung out with a guy that she liked at the time. He came over to our house one day, when I was not there, and saw some of the swimming medals/trophies/ribbons out (there was a time I displayed them a bit more::)) - and somehow decided he loved me based on that. He made my sister set us up on a date, which she did - without any thought to my well being. He was crazy, and much much much more experienced than me at the time. Not to mention he looked like a man. So we went out. I wore white pants and this blue and green swirly shirt that showed a bit of my stomach -- very classy and oh so 80s -- and we went on a walk and he picked up a cheesy flower to put behind my ear and kissed me. Not sure I liked it so much - because I was kind of scared of him. And I should have been.....I'll save all the reasons why for another blog, another time, and you will certainly laugh:) Julius was a high school boyfriend and friend, Reed was a high school crush and friend, and Chris (the one I was thinking of when I wrote those answers) was a 5th grade boyfriend who was the best breakdancer in school (he was actually in 6th grade, I was in 5th) who often wore parachute pants, and who wanted to kiss me after band practice (i played the saxophone, he played the drums) but I chickened out and said I had to go because my dad was waiting for me outside. He wasn't - I think he was in fact an hour late picking me up - so I hid in the bushes to pretend like I was gone!:)
College - I went to Georgetown. I did not apply to Stanford because I didn't want to go to school in California (where I basically grew up). I never considered West Point. When I went on my recruiting trip to Harvard, I was miserable so didn't really consider it despite some people telling me that was crazy. Air Force Academy was recruiting me too, and my dad really wanted me to consider it, so I did. And, actually, I loved loved loved the swim coach, Casey Converse. If I was going to pick who to swim for, it probably would have been him and I might not have "peaked" at the age of 16. He was awesome. And I actually had fun on my recruiting trip, and liked the people I met. However, of course, there was that whole issue of being a military academy and serving in the military afterwards. Yes, basically, not so much my thing.
Broken bones -- Four toes, and a nose. I broke my toes -- all four left toes except my big one -- my junior year of college at the Big East Conference championships. I walked into a steel pole (part of a lifeguard stand) and my toes turned perpendicular to my foot. 2 minutes later, my foot was black and blue and swelled to 3/4 the size of a baseball. 5 minutes later, I had to swim my 400IM (yes, that would be my best event). As I mentioned, I was much better in high school than in college. Much. Had I been as fast in college, I would have held most school records at the time. My junior year, I had decided that if I was going to do this - I wanted to do it right - and I worked hard to try to re-achieve that level and break at least the 400 IM record. And this would have been where I did it. Well, I didn't break it - I don't even remember swimming the event. I just remember standing on the blocks on one foot, basically, and cryiing, and all the coaches were behind the block encouraging me. I pushed off each wall with one foot. I think I was like 1/2 second off the record or something. And that, my friends, was the end of my swimming career. I just didn't have it in me after that. My nose I broke when I was like 6 and we lived in Pueblo, Colorado. My sister and I were running to our friend Stacy's house, and I slipped on the ice and fell on the cement steps leading up to her front door. My sister said, "Oh, your nose is bleeding." When I felt by my nostrils, there was no blood. So she said, "No, up by your eyes." And sure enough, gushing blood and the feel of a misplaced nose. My dad popped it back into place. We have pictures - which are all the better because at the time (like 1979 or so), my sister and I had afros. Not perms, not wavey hair. Afros. Yes, beautiful. My parents were young (are young) and we were certainly immersed into the disco era.
Middle names (male and female) -- I love the middle name James for a girl. I like the way it sounds with all the first names I think of (which, I can't say, as per my policy alluded to above). And, I like the middle name Lorin for a boy. My friend Dave's middle name is Lorin, and my friend Lauren's name is of course the female version. It rings of happiness, charm, and distinction for me, and goes with the first names I think of. However, Derek reminds me that he hates the name (no offense to Dave or Lauren) so I might not be able to use that middle name, and he also reminded me that I do like the middle name Isabell as well. But not as much as James! And this is my test, not reality, and we aren't expecting any children, so I don't think I lied at all on the answers:)
Song That Sends Me Home -- Come On Eileen. I could not hate a song more!!!
So, that is it. Tied with Derek for first place was baby Lillian, who I believe got a little help/inside info from her mom, Agatha -- who does know me just about as well as anyone possibly could, including those things that I would never share on the test or on this blog:) My sister and one of my brothers were next in line after Agatha, which seemed to make sense. And everyone got at least two - which made me feel like I have very attentive friends:) Thank you!!
So I'll leave this post at that for now, since Derek just got home with the groceries (I love him, he went shopping for us and didn't make me go, too. I love him) and I should help put them away.
I might have pictures to share later, as well as my two cents about Grey's Anatomy and American Idol (my prediction for one of next season's top ten finalists, if not winner!). I've never watched American Idol before, but Derek and I got sucked in this week.
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