Rocky Mountain High -- a Travelogue

Who DOESN'T like to start their day off with a little John Denver? (Don't answer that.)

My team of the day is the Colorado Rockies. As such:

http://mlb.mlb.com/team/

I'm not an expert on this team, but I do wonder: Does it date me that I still consider them an expansion team? (Again, don't answer that.)

It's becoming apparent that my knowledge of major league baseball is frozen somewhere around 1993 or thereabouts. 

ANYWAY....the Rockies. Colorado. Been there once, loved it to pieces.

The summer before I started law school, my best friend from college and I decided to take a road trip. We had four goals -- 

1. Be in Denver to see Blues Traveler at Red Rocks on July 3rd 
2. Be at the Grand Canyon by July 11th (or thereabouts) for our campsite reservation at the North Rim
3. Find me an apartment in Minneapolis 
4. Get me on my plane back to Pittsburgh on July 21. 

I moved out of my apartment in DC, and flew to Madison (with ungodly amounts of stuff, including one giant hardsided suitcase, a giant duffle bag [hockey-sized], two carry-ons, a backpack, a purse, and a guitar. The guitar is pink.) These were the days when airline staff could take pity on a traveler, and they did -- they only charged me $50 total for extra luggage. Considering each bag weighed at least 60 lbs., that was pretty nice of them. I may have cried a little.

So I arrived in Madison, and we loaded up her Ford Explorer and, after a stop for provisions at the Kraft Foods Company Store (her dad worked for Oscar Mayer) we took off. That truck was FULL of our luggage, and we added to that a tent, sleeping bags, ground cover, beef jerky, Lunchables (TM), packs of bologna and cheese slices, cases of beer and Diet Coke, grapes, cans of Pringles (TM) and other "convenience foods", and -- I'm ashamed to admit this but about 6 cartons of Marlboro Ultra Lights (Did you know that Phillip Morris owns Kraft? Purchased on-site with the employee discount, those were the cheapest smokes EVER.)

We drove through Illinois, stopping at Ronald Reagan's birthplace to take pictures (I think I was a Republican then), and on through Iowa on Interstate 80. Dodged a tornado somewhere near Ames and made it to Omaha in time to hit the Cracker Barrel for some chicken-fried steak. We drove on to Denver the next day, where we were told that John Popper had some sort of health problem (not really a surprise, right?) and that, as a result, the concert was cancelled. So we enjoyed the many delights of the city of Denver (about which there are stories that I really should NOT put on the Internet, even if very few people read this) and drove on to Pike's Peak. We drove up to the top, I was white-knuckled the whole time, and at the summit we each had a cigarette and threw up. Sarah also almost passed out -- altitude...who knew? Not us, apparently.

We made our way across Colorado for the next week or so, going white-water rafting in the Arkansas River through the Royal Gorge, riding horses in the San Juan mountains, stopping at every single Dairy Queen we saw (I can spot them from miles away - it's a gift), gambling at the Ute casino (I won $150 on quarter slots!) and alternating between camping and staying in cheap hotel rooms. It. Was. Awesome. Driving through the mountains, narrow and twisty and climby, became second nature, and it was some of the most amazing natural beauty I had ever experienced. Jagged peaks, tall pine forests that stretched on forever, the smell of super clean air, and charming little towns like Silverton and Ouray made me want to stop the car and never leave. And did I mention I purchased some fabulous cowboy boots?

After successfully avoiding contracting hanta virus at Four Corners, we finally arrived at the Grand Canyon and our campsite, where I got to sit in front of a campfire and play Indigo Girls songs on my pink guitar in my brand-new hat and boots (c'mon, don't you want to be my friend? I sound super-fun, right?), and we hiked down into the canyon the next day. On our way back up, an 80 year man passed us by at a good clip, so in our non-athletic despair we ate a can of Cheez Balls (TM) and then started the trek back. We made it back to Cortez that night, and then from there to Ogalalla and arrived in Burnsville, MN. At that point, driving for 7 hours without stopping, and then trading places and going for another 7, was nothing. We also stopped speaking to each other in Ogalalla, so that was kinda awkward...

But we found me an apartment and started speaking again, and I made it back home -- in time to wash my clothes and dust off my guitar and put it all in a moving truck and drive it on out to my new apartment in Uptown.

So when I think of the Rockies, THAT'S what I think of -- the piney mountains, a loaded-down car, lots of cans of Cheez Balls, and a time in my life when all I really had to do for three weeks was get to a concert on time and enjoy the rest of the (very long) ride.

Poor Sacramento.

So my team of the day is the Oakland Athletics.

http://mlb.mlb.com/team/

I picked them because I don't really have time today to write the kind of bloggy ode to teams like the Twins, Brewers, or Pirates, for whom I have strong happy feelings and want to wax profound about for lines and lines.

It turns out I know surprisingly little about this team, and everything I do know I learned from watching Moneyball a few weekends ago. Given that, I won't say much about them, and will focus more on the fact that they are one of five baseball teams in the great state of California.

Five?! That's a lot.

Granted, California is huge. It would have the 8th largest GDP in the world if it were its own country (but would probably slide to #15 if George Lucas, Ron Howard, Steven Spielberg, and Jerry Bruckheimer all moved to Atlanta to live in Tyler Perry's neighborhood). The size of its population is comparable to Poland. As of 2006, it has the largest minority population in the country. I get it -- it's gigantic and diverse and important by most measures.

But that's still a lot of baseball teams. And I question their choices; Frankly, I think it's rude that Sacramento, the state capital, does NOT have a major league baseball franchise but Oakland, 12.3 miles from San Francisco and the Giants, does.

If I were Sacramento, I'd be kind of pi$$ed about that.

Cleveland Rocks

Does it? Well, if Drew Carey says so...it must be true.

http://mlb.mlb.com/team/

I don't actually know that much about Cleveland - I've driven past it more times than I can count, especially on my way to the best amusement park in the world, Cedar Point. The "amazement park by the lake," if I recall their commercials correctly.

I do have some love for Cleveland in the sibling rivalry sort of way. You see, when you're from Pittsburgh, you hate Cleveland because you hate the Browns. But, if anyone else trashes the Browns -- well now, step off, that's MY job.

Wikipedia describes it thus:

The rivalry took a brief hiatus from 1996-1998 due to the Cleveland Browns relocation controversy. When the league was voting on the Browns relocation, Steelers owner Dan Rooney was one of only two owners to vote against the move. In tribute of Cleveland losing the Browns, Steeler fans wore orange arm bands to the final game at Three Rivers Stadium as a sign of mutual respect and sorrow for losing a great rivalry. While Browns fans still consider the Steelers as their main archrival, a small number of Steeler fans consider their rivalry with the Baltimore Ravens the spiritual successor to this rivalry due to Art Modell moving the his franchise to Baltimore and establish the expansion Ravens, even though the recent one-sidedness of this rivalry in favor of the Steelers has influenced this thinking as well. Nevertheless, it is still heated between both teams and one of the most heated rivalries in the NFL.

Ok, I know...that's FOOTBALL, this is a BASEBALL blogging challenge. But considering the source -- that the author of this blog would not by any measure be considered a sports fan although she does love certain football and baseball teams -- the fact that I have some independent knowledge of any sports-type information is really impressive.  And only some of it comes from reading Bill Simmons.

But enough about that -- Cedar Point is fabulous. You should absolutely go there.

Their roller coasters are RIDICULOUS. They are super-high, super-fast, super-twisty, and they're always building new ones that are higher, faster, and twistier than the rest. I used to go there every summer when I was a kid. Bless my father's heart, he used to drive me and my neighbor friend the four hours to the park, ride all day, and then drive home late that night. Amy and I would play War in the backseat until I felt carsick, and then we'd sleep. I went in high school, too, and that was fun, although I spent too much time putting on lip gloss and rolling my jean shorts to really have as much fun as I did when I was little.

I went in college, too, with one of my best friends, and we went on the Raptor, a roller coaster that's connected at the top (your legs dangle down). Right before it was ready to launch, I realized that my super-cute outfit that I had spent at least 20 minutes picking out (white baby doll t, white cotton miniskirt with lemons on it, and white no-back slip-on tennis shoes with a chunky lug heel -- it was 1996) was not the best choice for this ride, as those super fabulous shoes were about to dangle right off my feet and onto the ground 60 feet below. So Beth grabbed them off my feet and shoved them in her pockets.

She was such a good friend. And those shoes were totally hot, in that 1996 kind of way.

http://www.harbors-edge.com/attractions.aspx

Geaux Tigers

So today's blog post focuses on the Detroit Tigers. Yes, I know that spelling refers to LSU, so you don't need to correct me, but a) I like to type fancy words on my fancy new iPad keyboard that attaches to my case and b) Detroit (de-TWA) sounds Franche, too...

 Anyway, the only things I really have to say about the Detroit Tigers are:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Detroit_Tigers_logo.svg

1. I've been to Detroit. I dated a guy in high school, VERY BRIEFLY, who lived outside of Detroit in one of the nicer suburbs (something like Farmington? Farmington Hills? Is that a place?). I went there to visit him, then I quickly turned around and went back to Pittsburgh and decided that was enough of that. (Huh. In remembering that story, it suddenly occurs to me that my parents were kind of weirdly permissive about certain things.)
2. That's a cool logo. It's old school. None of this au courant crap with team names like the Diamond Rays and logos with neon colors and glitter bombs. It looks like someone typed it on the front page of the New York Times, and that's all right by me.
3. Whenever I see a Detroit Tigers hat I think of Magnum, P.I. He really wore it well. And that might be the only mustache that I've ever thought looked right on a man.

http://thatcostumegirl.com/2010/06/04/magnum-pi-force

I'm sure you agree.

The Mets...and other NY stuff

Well, it's just under the wire, so I'd better make this quick. Day one of the #springtrainingblogchallenge. I'm in New York, so let's make it about the Mets, shall we? 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:New_York_Mets.svg

It's my first trip back to New York post-baby. I am kid-free for two and half days and two nights, going to work during the day and spending the evenings with my best friend from law school in her fabulous UWS apartment. There have been some hiccups - such as the fact that my i.d. badge was turned off and I couldn't get into the building, someone stole my mouse and powercord for my docking station, and my passwords were so f*$%ed up and my computer was so behind on updates that I wasn't able to actually log in until 4 pm. 


BUT...there have been a lot of positives. Such as, being with my dear friend in a kid- and spouse-free way for the first time in many years... satisfying my cravings for Indian and Thai food...seeing the Chrysler building up close and personal again...wine(s) with dinner...seeing another dear friend's week old baby girl and holding her for a good long time...using my Duane Reade loyalty card again to spend $45 on $30 worth of merchandise...having $5 on an old Metrocard that would have expired at the end of March and using it to get to and from work...and not feeling guilty about being away, knowing that the girls are in the ever-capable hands of both the nanny and my husband.


And I did see Citifield on the Amtrak train on Sunday, so I guess there's my real connection to MLB. Sadly, in our 4+ years of living here, I never made it to an actual game. Or a Yankees game, which I probably would have preferred. I still hate the Mets for stealing away Barry Bonds and Bobby Bonilla. Yeah, I can really hold a grudge.

Blogging Challenge

Ok, ProntoPup, I'm in. I get extra credit for having to blog from my laggy phone while traveling for work.

30 days of blogging, on subjects that have even the most tenuous connection to major league baseball. This will be Day One, post to follow.

Mary Poppins, incarnate

The nanny started today.



Oh, it was amazing. The children were well-cared for - fed, bathed, entertained - and aside from acquainting her with how we do things, I was able to work without interruption.

Frankly, I had forgotten what that was like.

And, the kitchen is cleaner now than it was this morning. It's like a dream. A wonderful, happy dream where I can get my work done and not irreparably damage my relationship with my childcare-providing family members in the process.

Maybe one of these days I'll get to exercise, too. I believe in miracles now, it could actually happen!

Curse you, Etsy, and your unrealistic expectations

Oh, for serious. Etsy is advocating this:

365 Projects: Creating Every Day for a Year

How lovely! You think. What fun! I've got at least that many things in my "Crafts for the Kids" folders on Pinterest, that should be no problem!

Except for this:

I ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH TO DO.

Between working full-time, trying to be a halfway decent wife and daughter, keeping my kids and cats alive and somewhat clean and reasonably well-fed, and being in contact enough so my friends don't think I fell into the ocean, who the f&$% has time for this? Not me, not my friends. I have to completely outsource cleaning the house, how on earth could I take on a three-hour project every fracking evening?

Sure, it's a fabulous idea! I would LOVE to indulge that. I have no aversion to crafts -- in fact, I'm always working on a knitting project or two, and I'd love to do more. And I fully admit to purchasing the tools to put together the awesome "tooth fairy door" as seen on my Pinterest account. But to complete one thing a day? Fully complete it? Geez. Shoot for the moon, why don't you.

I ALSO HAVE ENOUGH TO FEEL GUILTY ABOUT NOT DOING. I'm not as patient as I could/should be, I don't spend enough time hanging out with my children, my clothes aren't neatly put away, I rarely remove the hairball on the shower floor, I didn't bake Christmas cookies this year, I don't exercise enough...I don't need to add to that, "feeling guilty for not 'creating' enough".

Blurgh.

Luckily, little Cinderella has no loose teeth yet - this is going to take me at least four months to finish.

Source: shesmakingcards.blogspot.com via Bethany on Pinterest

Epiphany

I had an epiphany last night. It has really been a long time coming.


I finally figured out what religion I am.


I had been a Congregationalist my whole life, had been very involved with church up until I was about 26 or so. I married an atheist, but he has always been willing to go to church with me. But for some reason, for the past ten years or so, I couldn't really bring myself to go (other than the occasional Christmas and baptizing my oldest daughter in our family's church in Pittsburgh).


And yes, I heard all about that from my family, and how it was disappointing to them that I wasn't going myself or bringing my child to church (or saying grace enough at meals). They tended to combat that with ninja-style commando religion lessons while visiting our home when my husband and I were conveniently occupied elsewhere. Which wasn't so much of a problem until little Cinderella wanted us to pray at every meal and kept talking about how "Jesus is the King." That really made me uncomfortable -- I don't think "uncomfortable" even begins to describe how my husband felt about it.


So I've been trying over the past few months to really put my finger on what I believe. I've been meaning to for such a long time - I miss being part of a church, but there was something keeping me from going, more than just wanting to sleep in on Sundays. And now, living in New England, it's a veritable smorgasbord of Congregational churches, so that's not an excuse either. Now that we have a four-month-old, her baptism is something that's on everyone's (especially my family's) minds.


My husband engaged in some Socratic method with me about my belief system (hey, sometimes it helps to have married a philosophy major), and between that and a visit to a Unitarian service, I have finally crystallized my beliefs.


Jesus is/was the sticking point for me. I don't believe he was the Son of God, so given that, most Christian denominations are really out. And you know what? That's ok. Turns out, there's a whole denomination out there that is okay with that, that celebrates the man and the philosopher and the person who could have been divinely inspired, but not necessarily "divine" himself. Who knew? (Ok, a lot of people. But I didn't.)


I've found that I am a Unitarian Universalist. It fits me. I love the fact that one of its guiding principles is "a free and responsible search for truth and meaning"...not Truth-with-a-capital-T. I love that it strives for social justice and believes in "the inherent worth and dignity of every person." I love that there's room for what I believe and what my husband believes, and that nobody will insert the line "I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior" into my daughter's baptism (dedication?) even when they promised my husband that he wouldn't have to attest to that, out loud, in front of an entire congregation (that was so not cool). I also love that this church we found has been around for hundreds of years, so I still have the feeling of belonging to history and tradition and a group that is bigger than just myself and what surrounds me now.

(And while I know many Christians who don't frequently profess their faith via social media, I also love that UUs don't cram their beliefs down anyone's throat, or post something laudatory about Jesus on Facebook and taunt "I'm sure 99% of you don't have the guts to repost this." Actually, I don't repost it because I don't AGREE with you -- but that's neither here nor there.)


It feels really good to have that sorted out.

Instructions for Myself, at 66

As I start back to work, before getting our full-time child care arranged we are lucky to have both grandmothers volunteering for two weeks each to watch the kids. I am so appreciative of their generosity...but this phenomenon sparked a discussion with my husband about what we would like to remind ourselves of when OUR children are grown and we want to help them out. Note: these items did not necessarily originate from our own personal experiences (although some did); they are taken from ours and our dear friends and, well, common sense.

1. Offer help. Even though they're grown, sometimes your kids need your help. Ask. Maybe it's money, maybe it's your time, maybe it's just a cheerleader...but just because they're 30, doesn't mean they don't need some assistance sometimes.
2. Your grown-up children will simply not be able to spend every holiday with you. Be reasonable. Ask for  Christmas once every few years, and you'll probably get it.
3. Travel to see them. They don't have the money or the vacation time, and expecting them to haul themselves, their spouse, their kids, and all of the assorted paraphernalia halfway across the country just to see you in your home is expensive and exhausting. Buy a plane ticket, pack a carry-on bag with some comfy clothes and crafts to keep the kids busy and go to them. And no, they will not/cannot move back to your hometown, so please don't keep suggesting that.
4. Be helpful, in whatever ways they say are helpful to them - not what you think you need to do to be helpful. They may not need you to do 27 loads of laundry for them or reorganize their closet, but they may need you to just sit and feed and hold the baby for a while they do laundry and catch up with their best friend on the phone, or take a nap, or get their hair cut for the first time in five months. Whatever they need.
5. They are now parents, and you need to respect that. They are always your children, but now they're parents themselves -- don't say things to them that you wouldn't say to another adult parent that you happen to know. RESPECT that. And those grandchildren of yours? They are not your kids. It would be lovely if you would help their parents raise them in the way their parents see fit. It is not okay to undermine the parents because "you know best." Again, would you do this to some other random parent? Probably (hopefully) not...so don't do it to your kids.

Oh, there are plenty additional list items that get into many more technical details...but these are the basics. I really hope I don't get all defensive when I read this thirty years from now...I will have no one to be angry at but myself.

Missing DC/Getting My Wonk On

The State of the Union makes me miss Washington, D.C., like no other event. It reminds me of two very different times in my life there that are now pretty far away, both in time and mileage.

Most importantly, it makes me think about when I was working on the Hill and how awesomely politically nerdy everyone was. Sure, we liked to eat and drink at the various Happy Hours sponsored by random associations (the good people who make candy wrappers) and countries (this one had the best food, EVER, hands down) -- and we had to, because free food and alcohol were imperative when you are making $20K a year, living in the sixth most expensive city in the US, and having to wear suits and other dry-clean-only apparel every day -- but for events like the SOTU, we would all gather at a local dive bar and drink heavily and applaud and yell and talk back to the television and each other. Sure, there were arguments between staffers with radically opposing viewpoints -- you know, like the one who worked for Thurmond never agreed with the one who worked for Kohl -- but it was all in good fun. Somehow I don't think people are quite as congenial there these days -- their bosses certainly aren't. But, we got our wonk on and had a blast doing it.

Living in DC again with my husband after law and graduate school was a completely different experience. But we did live on the Hill and I once again got to go to the Hawk 'N' Dove to watch the SOTU. This time I was an adult, and while it was nowhere near as fun as when I was 22 (sorry, honey!) it was a sweet time before having kids, in a city with great mass transit and where we could walk 10 minutes to get to just about everything we needed, and it was just the two of us having great discussions about politics and everything else. Granted, there was more yelling at the tv because Bush was president, as opposed to Clinton, but it was still a great time.

I feel like the SOTU starts the new year off officially, and I like to look around and think about the state of MY union -- my life, my career, my kids, my big stack of not-yet-started knitting projects -- and maybe make some plans and imagine where I want things to be a year from now and how I'm going to get there. Hopefully, we can kind of just get on with the living part of life, now that the moving and new baby and new school and deaths in the family and everything has all settled down into "normal." But this normal is miles and what feels like lifetimes away from the lives I had in DC...and that's okay.

But on a Tuesday night in late January every year, I remember that I once walked arm-in-arm with an elderly Strom Thurmond around the basement of the Dirksen building and that he said I was a "pretty girl...a pretty, pretty girl." Sure, he was a huge racist, but I'll take the compliment just the same.

All at Once

The first day back went fine. I figured it would, but it was nice to not be unpleasantly surprised.

However, I've had a raging headache for the past two days. I thought it was my workstation configuration and/or not wearing my glasses...but it was suggested to me that I should consider the impact of starting Weight Watchers on my first day back at work. Ah yes, the hunger headaches. I haven't allowed myself to be hungry in so long that I've forgotten what they felt like.

Yep, that makes more sense.

And yes, I recognize that starting my weight loss efforts and intensive exercise in earnest on the very day I started back to work after four months off is maybe not the brightest idea. But to me, I'd rather have an awful week and just get it over with.

Feels like I'm well on my way.

Coming to an End

These fabulous days of getting a paycheck without working are coming to a close...as of tomorrow, they will expect me to do stuff in order to get paid. Bummer. As mentioned previously, I had so many hopes of what could get accomplished during this maternity leave. Here's what ACTUALLY happened:

1) Kid 1 is a well-adjusted kindergartner. Check. She's even learning to ice skate. Bonus points for that one.
2) Kid 2 is a happy, healthy, almost four-month-old. Well done, me!
3) I uploaded January's pictures from our camera to the computer...but wait, there's MORE! I then EDITED said pictures and uploaded them to Facebook!! I know, and it's not even February yet!!
4) I'm almost done with someone's Christmas present. A "luscious, cable-knit cowl." Uh huh. Fail. I couldn't even hit Orthodox Christmas, or Chinese New Year. There is no excuse.
5) The house is about 9/10ths moved into. Seeing as that's about 5/8ths farther then we've gotten in any of our other residences, I'm okay with that.

Good enough. Maybe I'll get another maternity leave in a couple of years, so I can try to improve upon my stats. Because 22 years of financial support and a lifetime of worry is a fair trade for 4 months fully paid time off. Oh no, it really is. Believe me.

Manners

As in, mind yours. Why is it that on Facebook (in particular), manners and good judgment sometimes go completely out the window? I mean, it's not like the concept of web anonymity applies here - your name (and picture) is appended to everything you say.

Why do people use such poor judgment about posting on other people's walls, posts, etc.?

Foul language, lewd comments - c'mon. Don't be gross. My PARENTS and IN-LAWS and COWORKERS are on Facebook...why do you think it's okay to say stuff like this, even if it is "in jest"?

Say whatever you want on your on wall, just don't put it on mine. It's rude and disrespectful. Stop it, or I will block you from commenting at all.

Reserve the space for that douchey guy who posts links to articles that he admits he hasn't read, but then literally shames people for not knowing anything about the issue. Of course, that's a whole other blog post...

I don't know how to use HTML to black out this headline

But if I could, I would, in solidarity with wired.com, wikipedia.com, and numerous other sites that are protesting SOPA and PIPA.

Frankly, since very few people actually read this, it would be akin to cutting down a tree in a very isolated forest. So let's all just pretend that I censored the blog today.

The Unintentional Irony of the Washington Post Social Reader

On my Facebook news feed this morning:


[my friends] recently read articles.

 Jay-Z Buys Daughter Blue Ivy a $600K Solid-Gold Rocking Horse 
 Social tensions increasing in US between rich, poor


 16 minutes ago via Washington Post Social Reader

Swedish Design and the Art of Not Lighting Oneself on Fire

As I'm getting ready to set up a home office, I need a desk and a chair. Ones that are comfortable, but I don't want to spend a ton of money. Plus, it has to go up to the third floor, so that's limiting in itself. As a result, we decided to make a trip to Ikea. On a Saturday. Afternoon. On a really nice warm (for winter) sunny day.


Idiots. We are idiots.


I forgot that in exchange for clean Swedish design at affordable prices, you have trade in your sanity.


I also forgot the cardinal rules of Ikea:

1. Go during the week. In the morning. If you must go on the weekend, be there for the opening of the store. Otherwise, it's mayhem. And, you can't leave your kid in Småland for more than 45 minutes on the weekend - it's double that on weekdays. That leaves you trying to harangue a small child from darting away into the merchandise, pulling throw blankets, lapdesks, extension cords, plastic cups, and numerous stuffed animals out of bins and begging, at full volume, with more than a little whine thrown in, to pleasepleaseplease buy this. Much easier to carry around the Cheesecake Factory-style beeper and stroll at your leisure. You can even sit down on an EKTORP TULLSTA and have a nice minute to yourself.
2. Figure out how long you think you will be there, then multiply by 2. If you're there on a weekend, use a multiplier of 3. There's a Madeline L'Engle-worthy wrinkle in time inside that big blue box. Nothing is at it seems.
3. Don't go hungry. Sure, you want to avail yourself of the cheap Swedish meatballs, or promise yourself that there will be a cup of decent coffee and a more than decent cinnamon roll awaiting you after checkout. However, see item 2. You may die before you get there.
4. Recognize that Ikea is the land of slow walkers and Sunday drivers and all of that will conspire to make you want to scream, loudly, for everyone to just get the hell out of your way. But you can't. And you shouldn't. Especially not in front of your five-year-old. (The baby, however, totally won't remember or judge you so feel free.)
5. Make sure there's beer or wine or whatever beverage takes some of the pain away in the fridge at home for afterwards. I don't really need to explain that one.

So now I have a lovely new home office, which will make the return to work much more enjoyable. But it's in pieces. In boxes. Heavy boxes. In the car. In the garage. Three staircases from where it will eventually be built.

Yeah, I'm not going to think about that right now.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I was thinking today about how much celebrating my birthday has changed in the past 10 years. Some things are very different at 36 than 26...I'm sure you would like to know exactly how, in a numbered and bulleted list, so I'll tell you.

1. Sleeping in (especially on my birthday) is key. Today I slept in until 9, which is a deficit of about 4 hours from birthdays in my 20s, but that small amount is even more appreciated now.
2. 10 years ago today we left for our honeymoon. I'm pretty sure I'm not leaving the house at all today, but my husband and daughter are probably going to run out and grab me an US Weekly, so I can take a bath and have some mindless entertainment as an accompaniment.
3. In 2002 my phone was ringing off the hook with birthday greetings. Today, thanks to the magic of cell phones and Facebook I have received about 3 texts and 80 wall posts, and it's been just lovely. Plus, those don't wake the baby.
4. I have kids now. That's just huge. Although I think our cats are actually needier, vomitier, and generally require more energy from us than the human children, and two of those cats were here 10 years ago.
5. When I was 26, I was in between semesters of my third year in law school. Now I'm on maternity leave...so similarly, I don't have to go anywhere, I'm wearing comfy pants and not showering. So on that front, things are pretty much the same.
6. I will be enjoying cake, coffee, and a cocktail - true then, true now.

I'm going to go and watch tv now while I run on the treadmill. Now that I'm this old, I guess it'll have to be reruns of Matlock.

20 days left

I was going to accomplish so many things while on maternity leave. Such as: sort, classify and prettify the past 6 years' worth of digital pictures, make significant progress on the draft of my collaborative witchy-teen novel, exercise almost every day, get the house complete clean and organized, and write a billion baby gift thank you notes. I have 20 days left and I think I really accomplished two things in the past 12 weeks.

1) I kept the baby alive, and
2) I bought a Keurig.

And the Christmas cards, as mentioned in a previous post, I guess those count too...I'll be bragging about that until at least May.

Taking procrastination to a whole new level.

Really? It's been more than two years since I've blogged? Huh. I have excuses for the past three months - move to a new state, new baby, all of that...but the two years prior, well, I was probably just tired.

But now I have a new computer, and that's always inspiring, isn't it? Like a new sheet of paper - fresh, lined, with a perfect pen next to it, full of possibilities - but significantly more expensive.

I did send out Christmas cards this year, for the first time in...well, wait...let me think...ever? I had to make a list from scratch, so yeah, probably ever. They were lovely though.

Time to take a shower...on maternity leave, that really doesn't occur as much as I would like it to, so I will seize my opportunity while I can.

Long Time Gone

First post in over a year...please excuse my indolence. Some of my friends have been blogging up a storm, and it's been so entertaining to read that I just have to get back into it myself. Maybe it's a competitive thing...Anyway, not much new here, still in New York, still working at the massive financial services media conglomerate, still have the beautiful funny daughter and the wonderful husband, and three cats in a space built for two fewer.

There will be more amusing posts than this one, to be sure, but I'll start small tonight. Rome wasn't built in a day and all that...

You're the inspiration...

...Well, The Republican inspired me to blog a little bit...I will happily resume, especially when I know someone is reading. I do have a few questions, though, first. To wit:

1) Who do I know in Plano? Is Verizon routing someone's internet through the southwest, or is someone down there really reading me? If so, who are you? Do I know you? Am I entertaining? Introduce yourself, say hi!

2) Why do people defend being single-issue voters but then bitch about the consequences? I mean, if [abortion] [the environment] [Israel] [low taxes] [universal healthcare] is all you care about, and you vote accordingly, then I don't want to hear you complain about everything else that your chosen candidate does. If that's all you want, that's all you get, and that's your fault for being so narrow. The world is a little bigger than that, in case you haven't noticed.

3) In our lifetime? Apparently so. And I can't wait.

4) Can people be 30+ years old and really be that immature? Really? Huh.

That's it for now...Ella, get your mommy to read this to you.

Ready? Let's Roll Into Something New

You know, every time I'm at the gym, I either hear The Killers on my ipod or I see them on the fancy little tv attached to my treadmill...and it really drives home the fact that I *heart* Brandon Flowers. Sigh. He is so dreamy. SO dreamy. especially in the Mr. Brightside video.

And why am I still awake, watching Bring It On Again? Clearly, my husband is out of town, because there is no way he would stand for this.

China all the way to New York

Day 6 of M's business trip to Hong Kong...but he's coming home any minute! It was just weird to have him be on the other side of the world, literally. Every night when we spoke before I went to bed, he was in the middle of morning meetings. I did continually ask him, "So what does Tuesday look like? Am I going to enjoy it? Did you get the lottery numbers already?" You know, important stuff. I think he's jetlagged beyond words right now, although thankfully he had some pretty awesome business class seats that recline fully flat.

Say my name, say my name...

Apparently, my name is quite confusing to people from other countries. And some Americans even seem to have trouble with it.

Since I started working at the United Nations, I have been called "Befany," "Stephanie," "Beverly" (which was really appalling, because that guy is an American whom I emailed many times and had multiple conversations with, and was formally introduced to - what's it going to take?!), and my personal favorite mistaken name of all time, "Daphne." I'm kind of digging Daphne. Maybe she could be my alter ego? One of the guys I work with says that when things don't get done, we should all just blame it on Beverly. "Wasn't Beverly supposed to do that?" "Is Beverly even IN today?"

To say nothing of the 2 men so far who have referred to me over email as "Mr." Repeatedly.

Daphne is getting a little irritated. As is בֵּית עַנְיָה.

Long Time Gone

I'm going to appropriate the titling procedure of a fabulous acquaintance of mine, whose "savvy mom" blog is captioned with song lyrics...something that my friend Janie and I did a lot of in days past, so I was reminded of how much fun that is.

Anyway, what a long time between posts! Here's what's up - we've landed in New York, living on the Upper East Side. M loves his job, and I was appointed to a position at the United Nations, which (if the first week is any indication) will be a remarkably interesting experience. I guess I just can't get away from civil service...V has a nanny, a wonderful woman from Jamaica who takes great care of her (and yes, we are paying taxes on that).

We've had so many visitors already, at least 5 to my count, plus some that didn't stay with us, and many more to come in the next few weeks. New York is great, I still can't believe that we live here! And luckily, we already have friends here, from law school and high school, which have made the transition that much easier. We enjoyed a wicked game of 500 last night, with lots and lots of Oktoberfest beer and the traditional Pim's with lemonade. Sooooooooo.......that's life in the big city so far...more to come.

And the winner is....

New York City! Manhattan, to be exact. We leave in about 3 weeks. Actually, V and the cats and I leave in 3 weeks...M is already there 4 days a week. Thank goodness for Amtrak. It's hard to believe that in less than a month, we'll be living on the Upper East Side...with a Thai place, coffee shop and sushi restaurant each less than a block away!!! Heaven. Pure heaven. And for what we're paying, it'd better be.

Oh dear...

Once there were no options....now there are many....how's this going to play out?!

Another day, another interview...

Looks like someone is popular! Things are moving along much more quickly than expected...this might all be settled by Memorial Day!

So it begins...again...

Today was the first in-person, different-city interview for M in his quest for a new job. Up the coast a little ways, go a little east, and there you are...Boston. Seems like things went well today, and for his first trip to the city, he seemed to like it just fine. So, one down, two more to go (potentially)...and we'll see if we end up a few hours north on I-95 in Boston or NYC, or all the way out west in Seattle. At this point, your guess is as good as mine.

I'm obsessed.

It's kind of horrifying and wonderful, all at the same time. I don't want to watch tv - we have 5 episodes of Battlestar languishing on our DVR - nor do I want to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I'm head-over-heels in love with Tiger Woods PGA Tour 07. No, I'm not a 15 year old boy. Yet, here I am.

And since we got a new controller yesterday (apparently, our other one was played out over the last week or so), suddenly I'm winning it all. So sweet!

Of course, I should be working on Vivian's baby book...but Tiger beckons...

Guess What I Did, Y'All?!

Wow. I mean, you just can't make this stuff up. Poor Britney. Who knew the change in my heading would have been so prescient? Actually, I give Bill Simmons all of the credit, seeing as it is his quote and all. The man's a genius.

A matter of taste.

So we finally got around to seeing Match Point. It was pretty good, a little long - we both got tired of seeing Nola whining and behaving like a desperate shrew - but we were both really pleasantly surprised by the twist at the end. Didn't expect it, but liked it. Much better than I (and my husband) had anticipated.

However....

Still don't see what the big fuss is over Scarlett Johansson in this film. She's pretty, sure, and she's got a pretty filled-out chest that doesn't appear to be artificially enhanced...and I can definitely see her as a Lancome or Estee Lauder spokesmodel with her glowing skin...but I don't understand how people keep saying that she blew their minds, is the hottest woman ever, etc. For example, Matthew and I have had this conversation at least 6 times with various people:

One of us: Well, who do you think is hot?
One of them: Scarlett Johansson.
One of us: Really? I disagree.
One of them: Have you seen Match Point?

Well, we've seen Match Point now, and I perhaps find her even less attractive than I did before.

What's the obsession? [and please don't answer that unless you have actual new information to share, because I believe I've heard it already] Why do people think she's the most beautiful/most alluring/sexiest woman in the world? Because her character told you so in the movie? Because she talks like she has a cold? Because she has boobs? Or because we blindly trust Woody Allen and his excellent taste in women? Yes, she's beautiful; yes, she's not an unnatural weight; yes, she is well-maintained and a good actress; but no, she hasn't changed my life, and I'm okay with that. And so should you be.

Updating

The time has come to add new links to the list, and maybe cull a few of the old. Washingtonienne? Old news. Democrats.org? Well, now that EVERYBODY hates the administration, I don't feel so special anymore. So, to that end...

Pink is the new blog. Oh, I could gossip about my friends and loved ones -- Someone recently came into some (well-deserved) money, someone else gave an anonymous tip that may bring down a government official (again, well-deserved), someone might get a job on the other side of the country (also well-deserved, I guess this is a theme) -- Now, that's all well and good, but you probably don't know them...so celebrity gossip is more likely the thing that binds us.

IMDB. Don't watch tv without it. This has added a whole new level of interactivity to my television habit.

Fabulous baby clothes...and toys. How come my mother didn't buy me this stuff when I was little?

There she is...the winner of the competition hosted by the world's largest provider of scholarship assistance for young women...

This year, I only watched the last 15 minutes of the Miss America pageant. Well, that's not exactly true - I kept pausing it and reading the biographies of the contestants. Who knew there were so many musical theater and vocal performance majors that also want to be attorneys and governors and veterinarians and broadway performers? At the same time?! Yeah, I wish I was making that up.

Anyway, of the final three, Miss Georgia (a teacher who wants to eventually be an elementary school principal) gave the VERY BEST answer...by far...to an inane question that went something like "What would you do if you were President of the United States?" She answered the question succinctly, with a bit of humor, and then a nice zinger at the end re: No Child Left Behind, and how children are tested too much. Nice! The other two (Miss America and first-runner up, respectively)...were shallow, incoherent, ill-informed, and...let's just say shining examples of why the United States lags behind most industrial nations in educational achievement. Good thing Miss Oklahoma is winning that $50,000 college scholarship...

Wait, I get it, I get it!! How silly of me...Miss America is a NEED-BASED scholarship organization!!!! I wish someone had told me sooner.

Vivian Kate at Christmas

Almost six months old in these pictures...she didn't quite understand what Christmas was, but she certainly loved all of the attention from her grandparents!

Don't cha?

Too good. This is too good. From Lisa DeMoraes' blog...First, the fact that a tv executive characterized the search for the newest member of The Pussycat Dolls as "third-wave feminism" with a STRAIGHT face...and then the juicy little tidbit about Isaiah Washington's homophobic Tourette's incident - totally worth reading.

Oh, I guess I should put some pictures of the baby up here...will do.

Hiatus over.

Wow it's been a long time since I've posted, sorry about that. Let's see, to sum up:

1. Still pregnant. Huge belly. Crazy huge. Kind of scary, actually.
2. Still working. Still commuting. Which leads me to...
3. Still tired. Hope the iron pills kick in soon.
4. Still fixing up the house. The new kitchen arrives this month, and so does help for the rest of the painting. Can we done (with the exception of the countertops) by June 1? Here's hoping!

I guess that's about it....many, many babies born to friends this spring, all of them lovely little creatures. And way to go Sarah for a 9+ pounder...you will have something to hold over that child's head for the rest of his life.

Happy Birthday to me!!

What a wonderful day...started with a lovely dinner last night, and a terrific day today. So many thoughtful emails, phone calls, and cards from all around DC and the rest of the country. I'm so lucky to have such amazing friends and family who always know just what to say. Thank you, everyone, for making me feel so special.

'Tis the season

For updating blogs, apparently...some that haven't provided us with new reading material in many months have once again sprung into action - which I very much appreciate.

So, Happy New Year to everyone...it certainly is for me and mine. The start of a new decade for me, with a kick-ass birthday party to celebrate my new round number...A new house in a new city in a new state (yet commuting distance to the nation's capital), which my husband is currently painting...his diligence due in no small part to the other "new" news, which is that we will be expecting a new baby, come sometime in July. Which, handily, gets me out of painting and other activities involving toxic fumes. Heh. Well-played. I'm sure this year is going to be full of all sorts of new-ness, and as everyone tells us, "Your lives will change more than you could possible imagine." Well, sure. Or as Joely would say, "Obvy."

So, I guess I'll go make cookies or take a nap or something...now that the first-trimester queasiness has for the most part waned, I'm waiting for that burst of energy everyone assures me is just around the corner.

So many things wrong with this...

From a chat on today's Washington Post online, regarding the lobbying industry...

"Our civics teacher in high school told us that there is a secret "fee schedule" that exists in congress that determines the price for different types of legislation. For example, a simple proclamation is relatively inexpensive, but an industry-specific law is very, very costly. I have been trying to obtain a copy of this fee schedule, but have so far been unable to do so. Where can ordinary citizens find out how much their representative charges for their vote?"

Ok, there are really so many things wrong with this statement, it would take way too long to parse it all out. The fact that this was not tongue-in-cheek, but an actual question...by presumably a breathing human being who lives somewhere in Virginia...is truly disturbing. Mockable, laughable, and disturbing...unfortunately it makes me understand a little bit more (more than I want to) about those with whom I stand in line at the voting booth.

Know what tomorrow is?

The day we've been waiting for ALL YEAR. In fact, since November 2000...That wonderful, joyous holiday we call...


FITZMAS.


Merry Fitzmas Eve, everybody!!!

Charm City...and soon to be home sweet home...

More pictures to follow, in good time...Thank goodness the Saturday Night Outing Club doesn't mind a nice drive.

Longest Week Ever

So, we send people into outer space, and NASA can't give them anything more technologically advanced than an egg carton? I mean, seriously....foam?! Please.

Coincidentally, I just happen to be reading a fun summer thriller about that very agency...I love summer reading. Even if I can't go to the beach, I can sit outside on our deck in the 105 degree heat and swelter...all i need is the sand.

Resigned...and yet heartened

I mean, I'm as liberal as the next Mondale supporter, but I think that fighting the impending nomination of John Roberts is futile and impractical. This is assuming, of course, that the French Fry-eating teen and the brief mention in favor of a ban on federally-funded abortion-related counseling are the biggest bombshells we can find on Judge Roberts...sans a neo-con smoking gun, or, say, the malicious and irresponsible outing of an undercover government agent, he looks like the guy.

Seriously, this is not that bad. In fact, it's probably the best solution yet. So, like it or not, and believe me I don't, it's their turn to pick, and I think choosing a candidate who does not ostracize everyone to the left of Tucker is the smartest thing that W's done since giving up blow.

This may cheer those who are still bereft: while in private practice, Roberts represented 19 states that, along with the federal government, sought to break up Microsoft Corporation. So this may work out for the best.

So, let's all take off the whiny hat for a while, and take this for what it appears to be - not the worst of all possible worlds.

For now, anyway...

Psycho-chick

You know, it makes me feel infinitely better to know that I am one of apparently a generation (or more) of woman who have had that psycho-chick feeling and acted on it. Whether it was for a moment, a weekend, or a semester (gulp), it makes me feel better to know that it was all of us, at one time or another...Either stalking the streets of a college town, staring in bar windows, looking for your ex and his new girlfriend, or running to a frat house in the middle of a snow storm, pounding on the door until someone lets you into your boyfriend's room where you wait for him to come home (the next morning, mind you), or what have you...While it's nothing to be proud of, most certainly...we are human. And we were in our early twenties. And probably on antidepressants (or should have been). Being able to look back on that makes you realize that you are so not that girl anymore, and it's hard to remember what it felt like to be her, which can make you sad and yet somehow relieved. And having those moments (weeks, whatever, who's counting?) of idiocy, and living through them and moving past them, and being able to laugh at yourself...well, that's not so bad.

Especially when your husband thinks it's funny too.

Why Can't I Say It?!

Sometimes I feel like I can't be completely honest with people...even people that I love. And to tell you the truth, that kind of drives me crazy.

There are certain things that you just can't say to people, like:

"He is MARRIED. And not to you. So let it go."

"What do you expect? You married a child."

"How come your husband/wife/boyfriend drinks so much?"

"No, that will never change. You're fooling yourself if you think it will."

"You cannot treat mental illness with only diet and exercise."

"I don't care how long we've been friends, you should still send me a thank-you note for that present."

"Your inertia indicates weakness, and is not a virtue."

"Despite his claims to the contrary, he did sleep with that girl that he 'fell in love with' while he was married to you."

And the perennial favorite, "He's just not that into you." I hate to use that one, seeing as it's been abused ad nauseum, but the underlying thought is still wildly appropriate.

Perhaps some would make the case that the people you love are EXACTLY those to whom you can say these things...but I think probably not.

Query

Did you know that my blog is underpriced? You should buy some shares. It would make me feel special.

I find your lack of faith...disturbing.

"'This is how liberty dies -- to thunderous applause.'

So observes Queen Amidala of Naboo as the galactic
senate grants dictator-to-be Palpatine sweeping new
powers in his crusade against the Jedi in the final
"Star Wars" movie opening this week.

It's just one of several lines in "Star Wars: Episode
III -- Revenge of the Sith," that reveal the movie to
be more than just a sci-fi blockbuster and gargantuan
cultural phenomenon.

"Revenge of the Sith," it turns out, can also be seen
as a cautionary tale for our time -- a blistering
critique of the war in Iraq, a reminder of how
democracies can give up their freedoms too easily, and
an admonition about the seduction of good people by
absolute power..."

Read the rest of Dan Froomkin's article
here.

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Stupid WB. We TIVO-ed the season finale of Gilmore Girls, but it ran 1 minute long and WB failed to notify "the guide" of the scheduling change...SO WE MISSED THE LAST MINUTE. OF THE SEASON FINALE.

Stupid WB.

Good morning!

Ah, the sweet deliciousness of the Flex Day...the every-other Friday that I have off, because I work 9 hour days the rest of the time. I can swill coffee to my heart's content, do laundry, and watch Buffy and Dawson's reruns. You know, important stuff!

Had a wonderful dinner last night with my friend P and his lovely lady friend K. While our venue of choice was, as P put it, "tragically hip," the miniburgers and Rogue Dead Guy Lager made it well worth the wait. If you're ever in Chinatown in our capital city, I highly recommend Matchbox.

But I digress.

We had quite a busy week, which included a "Mardi Gras in May" dinner hosted by the Competitive Enterprise Institute. I had to listen to Billy Tauzin et al riff on the delights of the free market system, but for $10,000 a table that I didn't have to pay, I was happy to eat, drink, and chat up Republicans. And apparently Quid Nunc himself, the "Reliable Source" for the Washington Post, was in our midst....and I didn't see him!!! I missed my moment.

Perhaps he was wearing one of those mardi gras masks...that would explain it.

The Progeny of the Britster

By request from a far-off land...Some musings about the possible baby names for Childe Federline...

Ruth - Hebrew for "model of righteous convert." You know, in light of Britney's conversion to Kabbalah...dang, that girl's devout.

Aidan, Madison, Kaitlyn, Connor or Taylor/Tyler - Because she's trendy. And yet somehow a follower. And because every kid named Tyler has ADD.

Precious (or something that means "precious" in a foreign language). I don't think I need to explain that one.

Emma Sue, Hayley Lynne, Lilah Belle - Because she's southern (although I probably didn't need to explain that one, either).

I hope it's a girl - I have a feeling she'll get bored with it more quickly if it's a boy. Not sure why, just my gut feeling...Any other suggestions?

Like a kid in the candy aisle of Costco...

There's almost too much to blog about...Britney and
K-Fed and their impending parenthood, the party this
past weekend, my first official
"every-other-Friday-off" (I love my new job!), the
Catholic church electing Dick Cheney (I mean, Cardinal
Ratzinger) pope. To be fair, that's not a perfect
analogy - Dick Cheney tolerates gays. So, I
apologize, Dick, that wasn't an accurate comparison
nor was it very nice.

Groan.

Hung over. Blech. Note to self - EAT SOMETHING next time. Please.

And so it ends.

I've been trying to give myself enough distance so that I can have an appropriate amount of perspective when writing about this subject - the job I left. Well, I waited a week or so, and that's pretty much all the distance I think I'm going to get. So, here goes:

Things I'll miss about "the firm":

My dearest P. Although, I will still be seeing him for the occasional date, dinner out and/or other social occasion - so while I will be losing my much beloved work husband, he will not be gone from my life.

"Mama" a/k/a "Boo" or "Grits" - no one has ever made me laugh as loud or for as long as she does, and she has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met. Even if she doesn't care for my hugs, she has been a dear friend to me, especially considering we haven't really known each other that long.

The staff at the Starbucks downstairs - Best. Starbucks. Ever. Wouldn't have lasted so long if it wasn't for their sweet nectar, brewed fresh every 20 minutes.

One of my clients, Bob - perhaps the sweetest man ever that I never dated.

Oh, and the other wonderful people that are slaves to the man...I will miss their company and commiseration skills...A horrible workplace experience can bring out the hidden comedian/enne in all of us, and I'm pretty sure that it did. Especially in December. Good times.

Um, yeah. That's it. That's pretty much all I'm going to miss.

Things I'm THRILLED to leave behind:

The evil overlord of darkness. And his ridiculous wife. And their stupidly-named children. And the fountain in their front yard. I could go on, but I won't. But I'd like to.

MORTGAGE BANKING. Need I say more?

Representing an industry that doesn't understand why legislatures won't permit them to charge 18% interest on a first mortgage loan. Made me want to take a shower.

The D6 bus and the hour-plus commute. UGH.

The freezer door slamming into my wall and shaking my computer. Doesn't sound so bad, but have it happen 28 times a day and see how you like it.

Tiny paychecks and no bonuses, combined with a disingenuous boss who spends like Britney Spears on a bender.

Au revoir.

Rabbit?! I always thought I was more of a Dragon...

The Great Jeopardy! Caper

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this together...As the story unfolds, you'll see why...

So, Monday morning I wake up, ready for my Jeopardy! audition...all is well except for the fact that sometime during the night i started coughing...and never stopped. So, I had about 2 hours of sleep. Not ideal preparation for a trivia day, but that's okay, I'll make it work. Matthew tries to persuade me to stay home, because it seems I may also have a fever. I am unmoved. I shower, and get on down to the St. Regis hotel, cough drops in hand, fueled by coffee, cigarettes, and 4 Tylenol.

About 70 of us were seated, and were put through the Jeopardy! paces by a loud, Loud, LOUD producer from the show who was really into audience participation. We watched a video (hosted by Alex and the Clue Crew, no less!) which explained the procedures. We were given an answer sheet with 50 blanks, and then the video started again. Just like real Jeopardy, with a different category for each question, which popped up on the screen. We had 8 seconds to answer each one. I think I did pretty well, especially because the last clue was a gift from God...Category: Musical Theater...In the show "Little Shop of Horrors, what kind of shop was the 'Little Shop?'" Why, a flower shop, of course. Silly.

Anyway, they graded the tests and we had to sit around and write down 5 interesting things about ourselves to be used if we made it to the next round...And after about 20 minutes, we were told that 4 people passed the written test...out of almost 70. Yikes. The rest of us were free to leave.

Alas, I was not one of the four people. Three out of the four, however, had tried out anywhere from 2 to 5 times before, and this was their first opportunity to advance. Apparently, trying out for Jeopardy! is a commitment, one that you must reaffirm year after year.

So, next year, when Jeopardy! comes to DC, I will once again be furiously seeking an audition, so that I too may advance to the part where I get to play a mock round of Jeopardy!, and use the little clicker thing. Truly, that was the biggest disappointment, not getting to hold the clicker.

What also made me feel better is that the next day, the doctor told me I had a fever of 102, and my internet self-diagnosis was confirmed by a health care professional (thanks, Cookie!) - I have whooping cough (pertussis, if it ever comes up on Jeopardy!). So, perhaps my failure to advance was due (at least in some part) to the fact that I was sick as a dog all last week. I prefer to think of it that way, actually.

The Decline of Western Civilization

Heard in Starbucks this morning: "Okay, here's your grande decaf sugar-free vanilla skim latte."

Really? What's the point?!

no·tice

Noun: 1. The act of noting or observing; perception or attention: That detail escaped my notice. 2. Respectful attention or consideration: grateful for the teacher's notice. 3. A written or printed announcement: a notice of sale. 4a. A formal announcement, notification, or warning, especially an announcement of one's intention to withdraw from an agreement or leave a job: gave my employer two weeks' notice; raised the price without notice. b. The condition of being formally warned or notified: put us on notice for chronic lateness. 5. A printed critical review, as of a play or book.

Diet Heaven

Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper....Granted, it's not as good as the "real thing" at Sonic, but it's a pretty fantastic substitute. I highly recommend it.

Better Late Than Never

I finally, FINALLY got the OC season one on DVD...and it really IS this generation's 9-0. I hate to admit it, but I'm a big fan (granted, the blood orange mimosas I've been downing all evening may have had an impact on my enthusiasm, but nevertheless). Mindless, cheezy drama...with the added bonus of Adam Brody, who is my new teen crush. I've been loving him since his "Gilmore Girls" days as Lane's long-suffering, guitar-playing boyfriend Dave, even though I'm probably 10 years older than he is, which is rather frightening.

My dearest Janie is the one who always had the crushes on the younger men - I was more of the "Aragorn! (sigh)" kind of chick, but this boy just might make me change my mind.

He's dreamy.

Oops

I'm not sure if the teleprompter was on the fritz, or whether there was an honest mistake in the crafting of the State of the Union, but it seems that our "esteemed" President forgot to mention the part about the fabulous new individual Social Security savings accounts where each of us give the money we earned from the account back to the government....I'm sure it was just an oversight.

"You'll be able to pass along the money that accumulates in your personal account, if you wish, to your children . . . or grandchildren," Bush said last night. "And best of all, the money in the account is yours, and the government can never take it away."

Um, no. Not really. Not even close. The accounts would work more like a loan from the government, to be paid back upon retirement at an inflation-adjusted 3 percent interest rate -- the interest the money would have earned if it had been invested in Treasury bonds, said Peter R. Orszag, a Social Security analyst at the Brookings Institution and a former Clinton White House economist.

Let's look at it this way (thank you, Jonathan Weisman for doing the math): If a worker sets aside $1,000 a year for 40 years, and earns 4 percent annually on investments, the account would grow to $99,800 in today's dollars, but the government would keep $78,700 -- or about 80 percent of the account. The remainder, $21,100, would be the worker's.

So, I can't touch my money until I retire, the government still gets to pick where I invest my money, and then they keep 80% of it...hmm...It sounds to me like those are almost SOCIALIST tax rates...so, you conservatives who think the government shouldn't be touching your money should think twice before jumping aboard the privatization train.

I won't even go into how relieved I feel that Shrub is planning on supporting a constitutional amendment to "protect the institution of marriage." I mean, let the liberty roll to the farthest reaches of the earth - Iraq, Iran, North Korea...but not here. No, not here.

Not if we don't like you.

By Request

So, apparently I'm being criticized (gently, but criticized nonetheless) for posting too infrequently on the bethanator blog. Hmph. Fine, then.

Weird, weird dreams last night...it's funny how your mind mooshes everything together that you were thinking about right before you went to sleep. According to my nocturnal imagination, last night, I was attending the inauguration (which I actually did), but it was at the House of Representatives Chamber (which it was not), and my ex-boyfriend was getting married there (which I'm pretty sure he isn't, at least according to my sources). Plus, the Richland High School Class of 1993 was holding their reunion at the same time...

At least I looked hot for all of the above because I was wearing a gorgeous ball gown (a strapless periwinkle number, thanks for asking), some sparkly Jimmy Choos, and had my hair done...I blame Carrie Bradshaw et al for the Jimmy Choo chapter...Netflix is a beautiful way to spend a snowy weekend.

The Circle of Life - Not Just Another Cheezy Elton John Sell-Out Song

Everyone I know is pregnant. Or wants to be. Seriously.

And that's wonderful! It's just kind of weird...you know, it's like the time when "everyone I know is applying to graduate school" or "everyone I know is getting married (which was 2003, by the way)...I know that one's peers tend to be experiencing the same "big life moments" around the same times, but when it all happens at once, it's a little overwhelming.

As for me, I'm just psyched about my Jeopardy! audition.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I love that my birthday is so close to New Year's Day...I get the two concepts wrapped up in each other, and I always feel like my birthday is a great time to start new things. This year is going to be so much different than last year...A beautifully painted house on the Hill, great new friends (as well as the original cast members - Janie, Cookie, Joely, Katie, Sarah, and Jill - who continue to delight year after year), interviews for fabulous new jobs...Yay, 29!

Last Day...

...to pretend that thirty isn't RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME. Actually, I'm completely fine with it. Tomorrow is my 29th Birthday, and I'm actually looking forward to this last year of my twenties. I think it's going to be a big one, and as long as I get to kick it off with some cake, all will be well.

It's a Festivus Miracle!

Drove my new best friend to the airport this morning...I love that I was out of bed at 5:10 AM, and back into it before 6. Having an airport (even if it's named after a conservative neo-capitalist with little understanding of economics) within a ten minute drive is such a bonus, especially because the FAA won't let them fly over our house! Convenient, AND quiet. Perfect.

Driving to the office started this last work-day off quite well, and the dunkin' donuts and coffee that were awaiting me upon my arrival pushed it up into "best-workday-ever"-land. Add to that I'm leaving around noon, and I think we have a winner.

It truly is a festivus miracle! You know, for the rest of us.

Weekend in the 'Burbs.

Nothing like renting a shiny new Chevy Impala (well, I didn't exactly get a choice, it was what they had) and heading off to the wilds of Northern Virginia to do some Christmas shopping. I remember why I hate Target on Sunday afternoons...and why I love IKEA. There was also quite a bit of home-improvement shopping, in order to have a freshly-painted, completely color-coordinated suite of rooms in which to display the Christmas tree and Festivus pole.

Add to the painting, grocery ordering, cleaning, tree-trimming, silver polishing, light stringing, and peppermint mocha sipping a hefty dollop of billable hours, and I think I'm going to need to sleep until I turn 29. Which, conveniently enough, is only 10 days after Christmas.

So close, and still so far.

From the Wash. Post this morning: "Former prez and heart patient Bill Clinton was seen the other day ordering himself a hot dog bagel -- a hot dog inside a bagel -- at Einstein Brothers on Wisconsin Avenue. He also ordered trail-mix cookies, which surely qualify as health food, and coffee. With Secret Service agents watching, he carried his own bag as he greeted customers, including two excited 11-year-olds, Emily Widra of Rockville and Madelyn Levy of Washington. "Hi, ladies," he said. "

I'm devastated!!!!!! That's a mere 2 or so miles from my office... I could have been there. Stupid Emily and Madelyn. They don't know how lucky they have it, for a number of reasons:

1) They were not at my workplace.
2) They got to talk to Bill Clinton.
3) They were at Einsteins.

I bet they didn't even get coffee with their bagels...What a waste.

Who Knew?

I suppose it's time for more posting...now that I've removed the last name from the blog, I guess I can be a little more free to, well, criticize - because let's face it, that is one of my strengths. Or, as I put it in my government KSAs, critical thinking is part of my "skill set."

It's nice to know that my musings have been missed. Well, "missed" is probably too strong a word..."noted," perhaps? Either way...

Well, back to the regulatory compliance salt mines...with my trusty venti bold drip with hazelnut at my side, all is achievable.

I'll save the discussion on Jenna Bush's impending faculty position at a DC Charter School for later - I'm giddy with comedic possibilities...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A205-2004Dec14.html

Too late.

Obama in 2008!

That's pretty much all of the enthusiasm that I can muster today. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.

I can't take this.

The waiting. The anxiety. The frantic refreshing of the CNN electoral map. My stomach has been in knots for days...please, please, please, Ohio. Please. Don't wreck it for everyone. Please.

To the Woman in Seat #23-A

American Airlines Flight 1240, DFW to DCA (Dallas to National Airport) - you were sitting behind me. A few minutes after takeoff, I noticed that you kept clearing your throat. While it was annoying (kind of like the person in your exam room who refuses to use a tissue and instead sniffs every 30 seconds), I was not terribly put off by your gargles and managed to focus on my extremely compelling "In Style" magazine. Soon, you became much more annoying and repulsive by insisting on coughing, choking, and gagging on whatever was coming up out of your lungs. Now, I too have had an upper respiratory infection during a flight. But in that unfortunate instance, I plied myself with nasal spray, decongestant, and antihistamine to the point where I was no longer an annoyance, let alone a DANGER to everyone around me. After two and a half hours of your spewing filthy germs at the back of my head, even my manic hand-washing after deplaning was apparently not enough to counteract your attack. By dinnertime, I was sick. And what are the chances that I would suddenly be stricken with a cough, stuffy nose, and a fever? Pretty good, after sitting in front of you.

Next time, obnoxious woman in 23-A, visit Walgreens before you go. Thank goodness you didn't have ebola.

I Still Have A Minnesota Driver's License...

From the Washington Post, "Reliable Source" column penned by Richard Leiby:

"Garrison Keillor is urging fellow author, radio host and Minnesotan Al Franken to take the plunge and prepare for a U.S. Senate bid (as a Democrat, natch). "Al ought to give up radio, which is awfully hard work for a TV guy like himself, and establish residence in Minneapolis, near where he grew up, and get himself a late-model car and drive around and see the state. It's a wonderful place and, doggone it, people would like him," Keillor said in an interview published Saturday on Salon.com. "I'll do some fundraisers for him myself."

The man from Lake Wobegon calls Franken "a natural on the stump -- he has a terrific grin that makes people feel good, unlike so many Midwestern liberals who are about as warm as a concrete block." Keillor, an ardent foe of current Republican Sen. Norm Coleman, rules out a race of his own. "Writing is the best way to spend what time is left to me," says the 62-year-old. "Sit at my dining room table and try to write what is given to me to write -- a comic novel, a sonnet, a Lake Wobegon story, a parody of the president, a limerick about a lady named Reba who cried out in rapture, 'Ich liebe,' a rhapsody to homegrown tomatoes." You betcha."

But for the fact that uber-con Minnesota Secretary of State Mary Kiffmeyer doesn't count absentee ballots unless they're cast for the right (ask anyone about the Mondale/Coleman race, or click here), I would most certainly do my best to cast my vote for Franken.

Settling Down, Figuring Out

It's amazing how long it takes to get settled, once you move. There are the obvious steps, putting things away, painting, getting your mail forwarded, but there are so many other intangible things to do before you can really feel at home. Like meeting your neighbors, figuring out where the nearest grocery store is, and where the nearest 7-11 is when you just don't have the energy to walk all the way to Safeway just for C2, cream, and gum.

Trying to put my house in order makes me focus on putting my life in order. Now that I'm in the place where I want to be, residentially speaking, am I in the place where I want to be in other aspects of my life? Job, relationships, health, experiences? I think a little bit of self-examination, every so often, is a good thing. For me, I find that it's a lot easier to take inventory of all of these other things while I'm sorting through old papers and clothes. Finding reminders of goals that I once held, relationships that I once had (or still have!) helps me to figure out whether I'm happy with the track that I am on.

And in addition to being the catalyst for deep, penetrating soul-searching, throwing out half of your closet makes the room look really nice. I highly recommend it.