It's my birthday this week. Tomorrow, actually. Back in the day, before I got a house, I used to buy myself bday gifts. Like a Coach or Gucci bag I'd had my eye on, a shopping spree at Sephora...you get the picture. This year? A toaster oven. my, how things have changed. If I'm really feeling wild I may also get a new microwave. (Not sure about that...I have one, it's just lousy. The toaster was actually a wise investment as it uses less energy than my clunky, ancient stove.)
To add insult to injury, someone at work gave me a brochure for a singles' group. I know she meant to be nice, and at first I was touched by her thoughtfulness. But then I started thinking about it...prior to receiving the brochure, I had ONE conversation with her. Ever. How, in one conversation about our dogs, did she glean that I'm single/spinsterly/lame?? It's not that I'm offended by the gesture- I really do think she was being sweet- I'm more concerned that I'm somehow giving out a vibe of desperation!
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Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
No more wine before bed
The other night I dreamed that I was going to an ugly sweater party with Gwyneth Paltrow, Jake Gyllenhaal, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and other randoms. Clearly this would never happen- Gwyneth was wearing an uglier sweater than me.
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Sunday, September 11, 2011
Never forget
I can't believe it has been 10 years already.
Like most people old enough to remember 9/11, I have a clear memory of where I was that day. I was working for a non-profit; we'd held a golf tournament the day before, so were all going into the office later than usual that day. I was eating breakfast while watching Good Morning America, so I saw it happening live on tv.
I hadn't been speaking to my parents at the time. We'd had a blowout over some differences of opinion, and it escalated to the point that I had moved out and was staying with my boyfriend in Boston.
I remember the total confusion at first- initially everyone thought it was a terrible accident. Then the second plane hit while I was brushing my teeth, and we all realized it wasn't an accident.
Although I wasn't on speaking terms with my parents, I was checking in enough to know that my dad was flying out that day. His company was headquartered in Pittsburg, so when a plane was missing over PA I nearly lost my mind.
There was such a sense of "what next?" After the towers and Pentagon were hit, it was unclear how many other planes might be hijacked, or what other targets might be attacked.
I desperately tried calling my dad's cell phone- both his phones were going straight to voicemail. Logically, I knew the odds of him being on that plane were slim, but I wasn't thinking very rationally at that point. I was terrified and confused. I called his company headquarters- something I had never done, and haven't done since. His secretary confirmed that he was traveling that day, but she didn't have any information, and they hadn't heard from him.
My story had a much happier ending than many others that day- JP was on an afternoon flight, which ended up being cancelled, since all flights were grounded. But those couple hours of panic left a lasting impression on me. I try not to leave differences unsettled, because you never know what could happen. What broke my heart the most was thinking about the thousands of moms and dads who left their houses that day for a normal day at work, and then never came home. Especially for a non-morning person like me- typically I'm blowing out the door in a frenzy of lateness. I would hate for that to be my family's last memory of me. My takeaway lesson from 9/11 is to try not to sweat the small stuff or to dwell on the negative. What matters most isn't what I don't have, or what could have been- it's what I do have, and I'm grateful. My life is far from perfect- things have NOT turned out the way I've planned, but I'm grateful for every part of it.
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Like most people old enough to remember 9/11, I have a clear memory of where I was that day. I was working for a non-profit; we'd held a golf tournament the day before, so were all going into the office later than usual that day. I was eating breakfast while watching Good Morning America, so I saw it happening live on tv.
I hadn't been speaking to my parents at the time. We'd had a blowout over some differences of opinion, and it escalated to the point that I had moved out and was staying with my boyfriend in Boston.
I remember the total confusion at first- initially everyone thought it was a terrible accident. Then the second plane hit while I was brushing my teeth, and we all realized it wasn't an accident.
Although I wasn't on speaking terms with my parents, I was checking in enough to know that my dad was flying out that day. His company was headquartered in Pittsburg, so when a plane was missing over PA I nearly lost my mind.
There was such a sense of "what next?" After the towers and Pentagon were hit, it was unclear how many other planes might be hijacked, or what other targets might be attacked.
I desperately tried calling my dad's cell phone- both his phones were going straight to voicemail. Logically, I knew the odds of him being on that plane were slim, but I wasn't thinking very rationally at that point. I was terrified and confused. I called his company headquarters- something I had never done, and haven't done since. His secretary confirmed that he was traveling that day, but she didn't have any information, and they hadn't heard from him.
My story had a much happier ending than many others that day- JP was on an afternoon flight, which ended up being cancelled, since all flights were grounded. But those couple hours of panic left a lasting impression on me. I try not to leave differences unsettled, because you never know what could happen. What broke my heart the most was thinking about the thousands of moms and dads who left their houses that day for a normal day at work, and then never came home. Especially for a non-morning person like me- typically I'm blowing out the door in a frenzy of lateness. I would hate for that to be my family's last memory of me. My takeaway lesson from 9/11 is to try not to sweat the small stuff or to dwell on the negative. What matters most isn't what I don't have, or what could have been- it's what I do have, and I'm grateful. My life is far from perfect- things have NOT turned out the way I've planned, but I'm grateful for every part of it.
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Saturday, September 10, 2011
Hot mess
Slow start today- still recovering from last night! What started out as a quiet night went downhill fast. I had no plans until 5pm, when I made an executive decision to join some colleagues for drinks at our favorite watering hole. One of the guys from work had tickets to the Pawtucket Arts Festival and was looking for someone to join him, so I went. Then I ran into another friend who was volunteering there (selling tickets at the beer tent lol) so WE went out. Then another friend texted me, so went out with him for late night drinks. Whew.
Today I'm going to the Providence Art Festival with a friend and her daughter Fiona. Fi is probably my favorite kid- she is 7 going on 35, but not in an obnoxious or fresh way. She is hilarious and really freakin' smart. After the art festival we're going to Pinkberry, which I'm VERY excited about- I've never been!
The weather is glorious here today, so I'm trying to get my behind in gear. I think I still smell like booze, so it's probably a good idea to shower before hanging out with kids.
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Today I'm going to the Providence Art Festival with a friend and her daughter Fiona. Fi is probably my favorite kid- she is 7 going on 35, but not in an obnoxious or fresh way. She is hilarious and really freakin' smart. After the art festival we're going to Pinkberry, which I'm VERY excited about- I've never been!
The weather is glorious here today, so I'm trying to get my behind in gear. I think I still smell like booze, so it's probably a good idea to shower before hanging out with kids.
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Location:Lounging in bed
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
An open letter to my dog
Dear Mac,
I know that you have separation anxiety. I have learned to live with it. Every time I leave you home alone, I accept the fact that I will be cleaning and mopping the floor upon my return. I understand that, for the most part, this is something you cannot control, and that it is one of the many quirks that make you...you.
However....if you relieve yourself upon one more household item or appliance, I truly believe I will surpass the limits of my patience. Over the past several months, you have urinated and/or defecated upon both a handheld and stand up vacuum cleaner, a floor steam cleaner, a hair dryer, a flat iron, a wicker coffee table, two book cases, a glass tv table, the refrigerator and the stove. Today I discovered that you soiled my portable shredder, as well as a small pile of documents awaiting shredding.
I won't even list the multiple pairs of shoes you have sullied, although it must be noted that the black suede Banana Republic ankle books were particularly painful. It is worth mentioning that it must take some effort to urinate INTO said pair of ankle boots, so I find it difficult to believe that this incident occurred accidentally. You have also urinated into my recycling bin, another feat that requires no small amount of maneuvering. While I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, I can't help but believe that there is some ill intent on your part.
You are teetering on the precipice of my good will, Mac. I have just two words for you: canine diapers.
Love,
Me
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I know that you have separation anxiety. I have learned to live with it. Every time I leave you home alone, I accept the fact that I will be cleaning and mopping the floor upon my return. I understand that, for the most part, this is something you cannot control, and that it is one of the many quirks that make you...you.
However....if you relieve yourself upon one more household item or appliance, I truly believe I will surpass the limits of my patience. Over the past several months, you have urinated and/or defecated upon both a handheld and stand up vacuum cleaner, a floor steam cleaner, a hair dryer, a flat iron, a wicker coffee table, two book cases, a glass tv table, the refrigerator and the stove. Today I discovered that you soiled my portable shredder, as well as a small pile of documents awaiting shredding.
I won't even list the multiple pairs of shoes you have sullied, although it must be noted that the black suede Banana Republic ankle books were particularly painful. It is worth mentioning that it must take some effort to urinate INTO said pair of ankle boots, so I find it difficult to believe that this incident occurred accidentally. You have also urinated into my recycling bin, another feat that requires no small amount of maneuvering. While I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, I can't help but believe that there is some ill intent on your part.
You are teetering on the precipice of my good will, Mac. I have just two words for you: canine diapers.
Love,
Me
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Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Mac the wonder dog
I live on the second floor of my house. Mac has a potty routine- when he wants to go out, he goes to the back door and waits.
This morning after he ate his breakfast, he went over the the door. I opened it and he headed out onto the landing of the back stairwell. I told him "if you want to go out, I'll take you, but it's raining." He immediately turned around and went back into the apartment, and refused to go back out.
We just went to pick up my friend Lesley at the bus station downtown. Mac LOVES Lesley- we dropped her off at home, he started getting agitated as soon as we approached her street. By the time we got other house, he was screeching and jumping around the car. I'd like to say this doesn't usually happen, but that wouldn't be true. We actually have a routine with Lesley- Mac gets so upset when she leaves the car, so I have to say my goodbyes before we get to her house. Then I pull up and she gets out as quickly as possible. No lingering, no chatting. Just "ok, bye," then run.
It's pouring out here, so Mac is still refusing to potty outside. After we dropped Lesley off I caught him trying to go in the garage. I stopped him in time, but now I'm concerned- he still hasn't gone and now won't go back outside. I have a bad feeling I'm going to find a surprise in my house.
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This morning after he ate his breakfast, he went over the the door. I opened it and he headed out onto the landing of the back stairwell. I told him "if you want to go out, I'll take you, but it's raining." He immediately turned around and went back into the apartment, and refused to go back out.
We just went to pick up my friend Lesley at the bus station downtown. Mac LOVES Lesley- we dropped her off at home, he started getting agitated as soon as we approached her street. By the time we got other house, he was screeching and jumping around the car. I'd like to say this doesn't usually happen, but that wouldn't be true. We actually have a routine with Lesley- Mac gets so upset when she leaves the car, so I have to say my goodbyes before we get to her house. Then I pull up and she gets out as quickly as possible. No lingering, no chatting. Just "ok, bye," then run.
It's pouring out here, so Mac is still refusing to potty outside. After we dropped Lesley off I caught him trying to go in the garage. I stopped him in time, but now I'm concerned- he still hasn't gone and now won't go back outside. I have a bad feeling I'm going to find a surprise in my house.
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Monday, September 5, 2011
Losing it
When I lived with my parents, many mornings I heard chatter from the kitchen downstairs. Knowing that my mom is not a morning person, I once asked my dad who he was talking to. He replied "oh, Mac and I were just talking and laughing." At which point I realized: JP is nuts. Although Mac is an incredibly bright dog.
Fast forward to Friday night: instead of going out after work, I came home because I was tired. Warning sign number one. I stayed in and watched the Joy Behar show (probably warning sign number 2).....and sat with Mac, laughing away. Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the crazy tree.
Last week after the hurricane, my parents were without power for four days. Meanwhile, here in the 'hood, mine never even flickered. So after a couple power-free days in cowtown, they realized my dad's stockpile of supplies was about to go bad, and I hustled over to clean out the freezers. Yes, multiple freezers. They have the main fridge, a spare fridge in the basement, and a freezer chest in the garage. All packed to the gills. And JP is a huge seafood fan. I am not, but I hate to see good stuff go to waste. I loaded up a big cooler and a couple laundry baskets full - we are talking Omaha steaks and burgers, shrimp, wild salmon, stuffed quahogs....TONS of food. I distributed it amongst my broke friends, and everyone was happy.
Speaking of the hurricane...I spent the day today cleaning up the remainder of debris. I'm actually pretty proud of myself- considering my reformed princess ways, I think I handled that stuff rather well. I borrowed a chainsaw from my parents, but after a little consideration, ended up going with a handsaw. My late great-uncle Marcel (who was extremely handy, unlike me) had a big skill saw, and fairly regularly zipped off bits of fingers. A couple times he even cut off a whole finger (fortunately the digits were able to be reattached. I never asked for more details because I was too horrified). So, I'm a little leery of working with power saws. The handsaw worked fine and I got the job done with only minor injuries- dropped a log on my thumb and cut up my legs on all the branches.
Overall, a bit of a lame weekend....but productive.
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Fast forward to Friday night: instead of going out after work, I came home because I was tired. Warning sign number one. I stayed in and watched the Joy Behar show (probably warning sign number 2).....and sat with Mac, laughing away. Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the crazy tree.
Last week after the hurricane, my parents were without power for four days. Meanwhile, here in the 'hood, mine never even flickered. So after a couple power-free days in cowtown, they realized my dad's stockpile of supplies was about to go bad, and I hustled over to clean out the freezers. Yes, multiple freezers. They have the main fridge, a spare fridge in the basement, and a freezer chest in the garage. All packed to the gills. And JP is a huge seafood fan. I am not, but I hate to see good stuff go to waste. I loaded up a big cooler and a couple laundry baskets full - we are talking Omaha steaks and burgers, shrimp, wild salmon, stuffed quahogs....TONS of food. I distributed it amongst my broke friends, and everyone was happy.
Speaking of the hurricane...I spent the day today cleaning up the remainder of debris. I'm actually pretty proud of myself- considering my reformed princess ways, I think I handled that stuff rather well. I borrowed a chainsaw from my parents, but after a little consideration, ended up going with a handsaw. My late great-uncle Marcel (who was extremely handy, unlike me) had a big skill saw, and fairly regularly zipped off bits of fingers. A couple times he even cut off a whole finger (fortunately the digits were able to be reattached. I never asked for more details because I was too horrified). So, I'm a little leery of working with power saws. The handsaw worked fine and I got the job done with only minor injuries- dropped a log on my thumb and cut up my legs on all the branches.
Overall, a bit of a lame weekend....but productive.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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