Go Amerks!

The hubby and I took the kids to a Rochester Americans game last night thanks to some free tickets courtesy of our public library. I hadn't been to a game since the early 80s. Even though it was the week of February break (and both Family Night and College Night), I guess with a 16-33 record it shouldn't have been surprising to find the arena less than half full! More room to stretch.

But, I have to say, it was a hoot. They gave out light-up maracas and had all of the customary games/music/Moose mascots for the kids to enjoy. But, most importantly, after playing poorly during the first two periods, the Amerks came out for the final period in rare form. It became a fast-paced game with a number of just-missed attempts that kept me on the edge of my seat. Given that I could barely keep my eyes open before the game began, that was no easy feat.

The best part: The Amerks won in overtime. Sudden death is fun!

I do have two questions however:

1. What were they thinking when they named the opposing team the "Albany River Rats"?
   
2. Why are 99.9% of the spectators white?
   

Any answers?

Random Tidbits

I'm woefully short on time so I thought I would post a few minor thoughts on the state of my life . . .

1. Amazing how many people called me on the last post asking if they were the friend who slept with the random stranger. "It sounded like it could have been me." Funny!
   
2. Ended up telling the kids about Disney after ordering a book from the library, intending to pick it up myself, and inadvertently allowing it to be picked up by the hubby with kids in tow. Oops. Talk about an entitlement mentality, they were so NOT excited. It was as if we go to Disney daily. If I could cancel, I would. They have zero desire to see any characters (they're already much too cool) but, on that topic, Son #2 asked, "Will Jack Sparrow be there?" (Sidenote: If the real Jack Sparrow is there, I intend to put the kids with a babysitter and hit the town with him!) I replied that there was a big Pirates of the Caribbean attraction complete with a treasure hunt. "Will I be able to find a Wii? I don't want to do it if there are no Wiis." Huh? What happened to being happy with candy? I said, "No, there won't be any Wiis; however, if that's what you really want, I'll be happy to cancel the trip and buy you one." Sadly, they both had to think about it for a good few minutes. So far, we're still going.
   
3. Speaking of entitlements, I gave each of the kids a new Webkinz for Valentine's day because they dragged me to the store to see them at least six times since Christmas. Son #2 was extremely grateful for his new turtle; Son #1 could have cared less about his charcoal cat -- even though he had been asking for it repeatedly. Yeah, thanks. The hubby and I need to refrain from buying them anything between birthdays and Christmas unless it's at a garage sale and costs $1.
   
4. Son #1 keeps grabbing my boobs because he thinks it's funny. I've tried everything including kindly asking him to stop, making jokes, and screaming to get him to stop. Nothing works. The other night, in a fit of frustration, I said, "Dude, I don't go around grabbing your nuts" to which he responded, "No, I do that myself because it feels good." Oy vey. Yet another entry in a long list of things a mother doesn't want to hear.
   
5. I plan to give a copy of this article to my boss. The author, Max Kalehoff, uses Einstein quotes as the subtext of a modern day book on marketing to, once again, prove how timeless wisdom is. My favorite, “Strive not to be a success, but rather to be of value.”

Not feeling hugely valuable today!

Second Chances

Many moons ago, one of my girlfriends slept with some random guy, told us all how horrible it was, and then went and did it again. When we asked her why on earth she would do that to herself, she responded, “I just wanted to be sure.” Yeah, okay.

With that response in mind, I went out to dinner with two friends last week to, you guessed it, my much maligned new restaurant: Tasteology. And I’m thrilled to report that we had an absolute blast. Yep, you read that right.

For a multitude of reasons, the entire experience shifted enormously for me. The barren cafeteria-like seating now is flanked by potted “plants” (they’re actually bamboo-like sticks artistically placed but my lame description doesn’t do it justice – they really do warm the place up!) and, more importantly, you no longer have to order at the counter. There is now tableside wait service and Ben, our server, was as sweet as could be. In addition, they’ve added an organic wine bar (where the walk-up counter used to be), there are jazz bands scheduled to play throughout the week, and the side room is slated to become an art gallery. Honestly, it is not-so-gradually taking shape into a fabulous place to spend an evening out.

The night we dined there, the restaurant was hosting a “Culinary Smackdown” where two teams of local high school kids were competing in an Iron Chef-like competition. As such, the atmosphere was light and festive. If only we could have sampled their creations! And our food? I daresay it was good. I, of course, being risk-averse, ordered one of the dishes that the owner said was his favorite (i.e., the Southern Charm) and it was delicious. Mind you, at 12 points on Weight Watchers it’s much healthier than the calamari I had at JoJo the week before but also 2X what I should have ingested on my diet. Next time, I plan to share! My girlfriends’ meals were also good but one felt hers, the Panang Panache flatbread, was way too small (i.e., the calories appear to be in the peanut sauce that’s drizzled over the top) and the other thought hers wasn’t nearly as good as ours (i.e., the Sizzology – which was the best meal we had at our table last time oddly enough).

But the best part of the evening was when the owner stopped by to chat and treated us all to a glass of wine. He was a hysterical combination of extreme politeness (i.e., taking notes on all of our “ideas”), self-deprecating humor (“I can’t do that; I’m much too tired”), and complete honesty. He shared some of the many challenges they faced upon opening and how they promptly dealt with them. And he talked about how he takes all of his customer feedback, both good and bad, to heart. He is attempting to perfect the model before expanding/franchising too quickly and, in my opinion, he’s doing a fantastic job.

With that said, I actually look forward to going there again. Yikes. What’s next? Armageddon hungry.

I Heart U

Happy Valentine’s Day to my hubby and kids. And to my mom, siblings and in-laws. Without them, my heart would be at least two sizes too small.

But a special shout-out to my girlfriend Christine who February 14th will forever remind me of. (Sidebar: Can a dangling preposition be avoided here? Puhleaze. It sounds great. Keep writing.)

On this pre-cellphone day 23 years ago, when we were living in London, I traveled across town to put a rose in her mailbox with a little note saying that my roommates (a.k.a. flatmates for the sticklers-for-detail out there) and I were headed on the ferry to Dublin that night and asking if she would she care to join us. A few hours later, who surprises us on the train to Holyhead? None other but Christine and one of her roommates. We were shocked and thrilled that she met us on the exact train we were on. What are the chances?

We had a crazy weekend of braving rocky seas, benefiting from my roommate Katherine’s contingency planning (i.e., a hidden bottle of wine and French loaf to stave off both hunger and sobriety), playing quarters with a really sweet truck (yeah, okay, lorry) driver on the ferry named Sean Doody, bracing ourselves against the freezing cold rain, surviving myriad pub crawls, suffering through a long-meandering cab ride home (because we ran out of the hotel so quickly upon arrival we forgot to note where we were staying), and enjoying heaps of sightseeing and yummy B&B breakfasts that soothed our Guinness hangovers. We also had the unpleasant surprise of one of my roommates unpacking a couple of sweaters that belonged to Katherine (yeah, stolen merchandise goes over well in cramped quarters) and the later awesome embarrassment of that same idiot pouring salt in her tea (while we all watched and didn’t say anything) only to be followed by her raging temper. “I refuse to pay for this; it has salt in it!” Stupid, loud, obnoxious Americans!

All in all, a Valentine’s weekend worth remembering.

Travel Update

For those of you keeping tabs on the previous voting: yoga/surf camp in Costa Rica has been postponed until the fall and St. Thomas (or some other tropical beach locale) has been postponed until April break so I decided to take the kids to Disney World (a.k.a. the happiest place on earth) in two weeks. Spare no expense on the mayhem express!

Which leads me to wonder . . .

more at twiigs.com...

Babble On

In my Bible study this morning, I was reading Luke 24 where the women who followed Jesus went to the tomb, found it empty and were reminded by "two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning" that, per his words, Jesus had risen.

Then the women came back and told all the guys what had happened . . .

"But they did not believe the women,
because their words seemed to them like nonsense."

The more things change, the more they stay the same!

Snow

Snow is
like one million
meteors that strike
the earth gently

Written by son #1 on the bus home on Friday and translated onto a snowflake that he drew and cut out of white paper.

My Little Capuchin

I now have another nickname for my little monkey: capuchin (which apparently is a type of monkey found in Brazil, who knew?).

And I've donated 20 grains of rice to the United Nations to help end world hunger by getting that word right -- by sheer luck, I may add. All in all, I've spent just a few minutes at Free Rice testing my vocabulary skills and/or luck and in the process have donated, thus far, 480 grains of rice.

Alas, my donation doesn't quite cover the bottom of a single bowl but the game is fun and addicting with humanitarian incentives to continue playing. There goes the weekend!

One Night in Bangkok & the World's Your Oyster

I know my kid is getting older when, at 7 1/2, he's almost as tall as I am (reaching my collarbone) and can do a number of things much better than I -- like playing video games and kicking my butt in chess.

Which brings me to the cutest thing ever: his first chess tournament this weekend!

That Simpson's chess set that my girlfriend gave to us years ago is paying dividends. Bangkok here we come.

Bangkok, Oriental setting
And the city don't know that the city is getting
The creme de la creme of the chess world in a
Show with everything but Yul Brynner.

Right Wing Morphing?

At some point last year on my drive home from work, I was listening to Pastor's Perspective, a Christian radio show, when a female listener called in and stated that her ex-boyfriend -- with whom she had remained good friends -- was getting married. She not only thought that attending the ceremony was inappropriate but she also felt that she should honor his marriage by cutting all ties. She was asking for feedback.

The pastor not only agreed with her but went on to state that men and women who are married to others should not even lunch together . . .

I was shocked and felt the answer was extreme. Not only do I have the occasional meeting with a male client in a public place, I have guy friends from childhood, high school, college, grad school and various jobs who I still see from time-to-time. Not as much as I would like but life is busy. Rarely, however, does the hubby join us mainly because he doesn't want to hear a bunch of reminiscing about a time when he wasn't present.

And my friendships aren't limited to cocktails, dinner or lunch. I have gone skiing in Colorado for a week with some of the guys I went to college with and just last year drove to Maine for a wedding with my friend Kevin who lives in Syracuse. Plain and simple fact: It was fun to spend time together and sad that it took a wedding to get us together given that we live an hour from one another. That's life.

My hubby also has female friends who he visits or goes to the movies with. I have no concerns.

But I do continue to ponder that advice. Initially I thought, "Well that's goofy. If it's completely innocent and all parties are trustworthy, what's the issue?" but as I continue to think long and hard, I'm now beginning to ask myself, "Do I really need to see my guy friends one-on-one?"

The logical answer is "yes" because the hubby doesn't want to come along and would be miserable if forced. And we would have to get a sitter to watch the kids or enlist my mom's help. And the fact is that 99.9999% of the time, I've never been hit on. But every once in a while, I get a random comment that I either choose to ignore or laugh off -- and one recent email from a close friend who I grew up with (who I like immensely) that I had to address head-on. As a result, I started asking myself, "Am I unnecessarily putting myself in compromising situations?"

Certainly there's something we can all do together (e.g., dinner with spouses and kids) that doesn't involve talking about the past. There are plenty of current topics that are much more interesting. But that assumes the guys are married; a few are not. Then what? Get a group together to go out? Sounds reasonable to me.

Egads, maybe I'm just becoming ultraconservative. The bottom line is: How can I honor my marriage without negating the friendships that I value?

As Sonic Youth says, "I just want you to know that we can still be friends."

Just in a group.

Ho Hos Are Society's Best Friend!

Finally some good news!

According to a study reported in today's Chicago Tribune, it costs the government more to care for healthy people who live years longer. The long-term cost to care for smokers is $326K, obese people is $371K, and thin/healthy people is $417K.

It goes on to say that the study did not take into account other potential costs of obesity and smoking, such as lost economic productivity or social costs, blah blah blah . . .

No analysis paralysis here: I know exactly what I need to play my part in reducing the burden to society. Just when I was inching back toward 115 lbs., I get the green light to course correct.

Slim-Fast be gone! Hello Sweet Potato Hoe Cakes.

I Spy a Harried Housewife

When a first grade boy brings home an assignment to find 100 themed items and glue/paste them to a legal size sheet of construction paper, who does the teacher honestly believe is doing it? Especially when during the parent/teacher conference some concern was voiced over that same kid's lack of mastery over the scissors. (As my boss quipped, "Why do they stress? I've never known anyone to graduate from high school who hadn't yet learned how to cut with scissors.")

I spent the better part of Saturday with son #2 surrounded by copies of Saveur and Natural Health magazines cutting out pictures of roast turkeys, pies, bon bons, apples, shish kabobs, organic grains, wax lips and so on.

We then had to write three, four-line "I spy" rhymes to share with the class so they could find some of the skillfully hidden cut-out items.

I spy a mom and son
sitting on the floor
cutting pics all afternoon
until their hands were sore

All complaining aside, I think I would make a pretty good first grader. Especially if I could hang out with my little monkey all day long.

London Calling

I dreamed last night that I was in an apartment in London throwing on clothes. I was late for a professional meeting and still wearing my bathing suit. Once dressed, I stepped in my private jet with my girlfriend Meg to fly home. It was a wild, freewheeling flight and I had to relax and trust that all would be well. As we flew over Giant stadium (which was a glorious bright green) and then over two large hotels outside of NYC, I stated to some man who was next to me, "I would like to buy one of those hotels. Would you see if either is on the market and what they're asking?"

I then turned to Meg and said, "If you asked me before, I would have told you that I didn't need much money to live well -- but now that I have it, I realize how easily it is to fall into comfort. Before, I would never have bought a $500 bra but now that I know that it feels like butter, I wouldn't dream of anything less." I added that having my own plane made it easier to come home often and I loved that I could see my mom whenever I wanted. She agreed.

Then this morning (sadly back to reality), I was on the phone with my mom and she asked, "Did you just say something about London?" Uh no
. . . but I'm willing to entertain any thread of insanity that will take me back to that luxurious life I was leading a few hours ago.