Random Nonsense

Buddy

2012-01-30T06:36:00.000-08:00

Is leaving a magazine lying around what's commonly referred to as "planting the seed"?

After years of ogling other people's dogs and hearing from the hubby what a PITA dogs are, I came home on Friday afternoon to this little bundle of joy! Shock and awe!

He's so cute! Aside from peeing and pooping in the house and gnawing on everything in sight, he's awesome. He's already learning how to fetch, sit on command, drive a car, do our taxes . . .

Son #2 finally has a puppy so he's happy. Son #1 is a cat person so he's not too thrilled especially since the cats are a little freaked out. However, it's only day three and the cats are acclimating. They've gone from puffed up, hissing, fur balls to quietly sniffing the puppy and checking him out while he's sleeping.

Look at this act of bravery above the cage.

Interesting from Buddy's vantage, too.

Next step, naming him. Instead of just calling him Buddy, should we officially name him Buddy? Duke? Sparky? (Or as the kids suggested, Captain Sparkles?) Dr. Love (Calling Dr. Love)?

Skinner?

The Milk Man

2012-01-25T11:42:00.000-08:00

Check out the only goaltender in the world who is possibly cuter than Henrik Lundqvist (a.k.a. new dad).

I and Love and You

2012-01-24T14:28:00.000-08:00

Drove with my sis to Brooklyn last weekend. FUN. My uber-generous mom is there staying at a friend's apartment and treating us to all sorts of goodies; my nephew, also in Brooklyn, hosted us, took us to restaurants and basically catered to our every whim. He's a keeper.

My favorite stop: The Brooklyn Flea Market. Check out the ornate ceiling!

I wanted everything there. Instead, I bought a few metal letters that I plan to affix to the bathroom wall and spell a nice little reminder to the fresh batch of boys that visit on a continual basis, "Wash your hands."

We had fun with these letters over lunch making all sorts of useless phrases.

We bought lottery tix (fingers crossed!) and picked out houses that we wanted in my girlfriend Abby's neighborhood where my mom is staying. My mom and sis are going to split the brick duplex. I'll take the white townhouse, thank you very much.

Had fun shopping, eating and just spending time with family. So so so so awesome.

The only drawback was the complimentary Sopranos tour of NJ that our GPS unexpectedly provided on the way home. Hello industrial park . . . hey, what are those Hefty bags scattered across the road filled with? Body parts?

Oh, and looky here: it says "Child Molester" on the green fence. Lovely. Let's stop and take a picture!

All in all, a great weekend. Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.

Another Month | Another Year

2012-01-23T11:27:00.000-08:00

Wow, can't seem to post lately. What's new lazy bones? Hmmm.

My birthday: Gone.

Christmas: Past. (Gosh, think it's a hockey stick?)

Wallet: Empty.

Kids: Happy. (Hello new laptop. Hello $700 summer camp for video game development.)

New Year's Eve: Fun.

Work: Busy. And in the midst of the madness, I moved to a small office in my little town. No indoor parking. No fire place. No coworkers.

Here's a snowy view from the side window of my new office. Bleak yet still charming somehow as the street wends along the canal. Now I can run next door for a cup of coffee or across the street for new Birkenstocks (as if). There's also a cute, cobblestone fire-placed, chandelier-laden crepes restaurant right here. Two awesome Greek restaurants. And one of my favorite places for fun cocktails just a few doors down. Of course, I haven't ventured out yet. Too cold.

And here's a picture of the view out the front window above my desk. Until I snapped this, I had not noticed the prominent telephone lines! Instead, I watch everyone out jogging along the canal (even in the dead of winter) or walking their dogs and I get jealous. Wait 'til spring when they're in the sunshine enjoying ice cream cones and I'm sitting up here. Maybe I'll start throwing reams of paper at them.

Oh well. Happy 2012. The year of the Dragon. YEA! Good luck for me, Son #1 and my nephew Tim: all dragons.

Photo Per Day #20: Gingerbread House

2011-12-20T05:49:00.000-08:00

By the time young boys masterfully glue the roof and walls of a gingerbread house together using a thick, sticky, viscous confectioners' sugar and water combination, thereby staving off structural collapse by a thread, they've lost total interest in decorating. Eat a disgusting green, mint, jellied candy. Spit it out. Throw the rest of the gummies on the roof (or at least the parts that you've bothered to frost). Open the other bag of candies and and throw it on the "ground." Call it a day.

Less Martha Stewart. More foreclosure.

Photo Per Day #19: Frozen Ropes

2011-12-19T02:35:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Son #2's last indoor baseball game for the season. With the exception of the other team's coach loudly and continually criticizing (er, I mean coaching) his team, Frozen Ropes is eerily quiet. The sound of the ball hitting the metal bat echoes off the walls. And since it's shrowded in nets to keep the bystanders safe, the rules are somewhat bizarre. Hit the nets on the ceiling directly above the pitcher? Assumed catch. You're out.

Son #2 up to bat and, later, on second base.

Photo Per Day #18: Oh Crap!

2011-12-18T14:33:00.000-08:00

Last night, six sets of neighbors gathered for our annual gag gift swap. The kids did their secret santas. Son #1 got a GameStop giftcard; Son #2 got an iTunes card along with a bucket of faux snow balls that he loves and continues to chuck at us all day today.

My favorite pic, however, is of my girlfriend's chocolate dip with animal cracker poised atop. Yum? Thank heavens it wasn't steaming . . .

I asked if I could snap a photo. She responded, "If you must." (I must.)

Photo Per Day #17: Pittsford Wines

2011-12-17T14:12:00.000-08:00

Tonight is our annual neighborhood Christmas party and gag gift swap. I shopped at my neighbor's fabulous wine store. Great wines at reasonable prices and right smack dab in the village. No need to navigate the mall. Amen. Amen.

I didn't just buy anything; I bought local. In this case, I purchased a bottle of Cherry Liqueur from Finger Lakes Distilling. Just this week, I discovered this local distillery via my good friend Google after being entranced with the idea of establishing my very own distillery. Alas, someone beat me to the punch (pun intended, really). It just sounded so enticing in a recent article about a moonshine business that was published in my favorite magazine, Garden and Gun (where everything sounds so damn romantic). Maybe, at a later date, I'll try the Finger Lakes whiskey or gin. I want them to be successful, after all, right?!

Altruism never sounded so good.

Photo Per Day #16: American Picker

2011-12-17T06:49:00.000-08:00

Would have posted last night but got home from Christmas with the bible study girls too late. Before the party, my girlfriend Meg and I stopped for a happy hour cocktail at Abilene . . .

. . . to see this guy. Fun!

Photo Per Day #15: Fly Rabbit Press

2011-12-15T05:43:00.000-08:00

Why, when I am out shopping for gifts, must I always buy something for myself? Oh, I know the answer! I know exactly what I like! In this case, I recently bought a cute chartreuse print for my new office from local letterpress/graphic design artist Fly Rabbit Press.

And if you look through her posters, many of which were made for my favorite watering hole, Abilene, you'll note that she created the local poster for one of my favorite singers Eilen Jewell. It's a triple whammy!

Photo Per Day #14: 80's Perm

2011-12-15T05:13:00.000-08:00

Sure, you can dress me up with a red nose and antlers (that have since fallen off ) but there's no escaping the 80's perm.

Photo Per Day #13: Les Misérables

2011-12-13T11:05:00.000-08:00

Sorrow found me when I was young . . .

Son #1 may not think he looks or acts like me but he does (on both accounts)!

Photo Per Day #12: Ornaments

2011-12-12T14:16:00.000-08:00

Tis the season to decorate the Christmas tree. As such, it's that time of the year when I open a box filled with my very own, unique ornaments. Ornaments that my loving friends and family created and hung on the tree at a surprise party for my 30th birthday 17 years ago this month. (Sheesh!) You know that you're loved when everyone, bar one, selected the worst possible pictures of me. (It's really not that hard.) Ornaments of me as a baby with food all over my face. Looking miserable as a kid. Kicking my leg in the air at parties (i.e., knickers shot) as an adult. Holding cocktails at parties. You name it, I have it.

After almost two decades in a box, they're not faring so well so I decided to capture a few on "film." Today's image may explain why I am shorter than the rest of my 6' tall family.

Photo Per Day #10: Plum House

2011-12-10T18:44:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, TGI Fridays. This weekend, Plum House. More urban. Less gentrified. Tastier. Well worth it. All's fair in the game to remind the kids that there's more to life than Crapplebee's.

I've Been Waiting

2011-12-09T05:39:00.000-08:00

This morning, on the way to the gym, I heard a song on WITR that I've liked whenever it came on the air for years but never bothered to pay attention beyond that. I never even knew what band played it. And, for the first time ever, I suddenly realized that it is a man singing. A man. Now it's so obvious. Especially when he starts screaming. How could I have ever thought otherwise?

It's the room, the sun and the sky. The room, the sun and the sky.

Photo Per Day #8: Thursday Night Football

2011-12-08T16:46:00.000-08:00

I sometimes wonder: 1) Is everyone else's entire house one giant playground? 2) Do other moms come home at night and relax?

Photo Per Day #7: Oh Conference Tree Oh Conference Tree

2011-12-07T17:02:00.000-08:00

So why is the quality of my iPhone pictures getting worse? What am I doing wrong? Anyhoo, today's picture hails from Monroe Country Club -- the location of today's offsite. I've decided that there should be a Christmas tree present at all corporate functions to make the atmosphere more festive.

Photo Per Day #6: OMJeeb

2011-12-06T17:35:00.000-08:00

The box containing our nativity scene as labeled by the hubby.

Photo Per Day #5: Genesee Beer

2011-12-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

Went to see itinerant artist Jim Mott speak yesterday at the ROC-ART exhibit at High Falls. This exhibition contains local paintings which I loved: Irondequoit Bay, Gibbs Street, the Little Theater. I wanted them all! And the paintings hang perfectly in the gallery which overlooks the falls and the High Falls Brewery.

Afterward, my girlfriend and I walked along the bridge at Pont du Rennes and snapped pics.

Makes me wanna sing. I got a Genesee beer at home, in the fridge, with my name on it.

Photo Per Day #4: Keuka Christmas

2011-12-04T06:58:00.000-08:00

Spent the night last night at my girlfriend's house on Keuka Lake. We sat in the hot tub for hours and drank a lot of wine. We thought we might go swimming (in December!?) but we all chickened out when we got down to the dock.

Mary's front deck is covered with white Christmas lights . . .

But her tree is not yet adorned.

'Twas very, very peaceful this morning.

Photo Per Day #3: Hungerford Urban Artisans

2011-12-03T13:06:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to buy local this Christmas. As such, Son #2 and I went to the Hungerford building today and bought a few awesome presents from the temporary stalls of the Rochester area Etsy craftsmen's Craftmas sale and a gorgeous something-something from one of the resident artists.

Such amazing talent from traditional artists (e.g., painters, scupltors, jewelers) and non-traditional artists like a guy who recreates children's books with balloon art. Run, run, as fast as you can . . .

There was a great design studio with heaps of colorful, adorable girls fashions. I would have bought Son #2 a great monkey skirt but he declined.

Not only did I want to buy a few thing for myself (e.g., knit cap, bunny yoga statue), I want a studio of my own. For what, I know not. I just want to dance.

Photo per Day #2: TGIF

2011-12-03T12:54:00.000-08:00

Literally. After driving around the city, trying to find parking spaces to no avail last night, the kids decided that they wanted to go to Friday's instead. I caved.

Photo Per Day #1: Stella! Hey, Stella!

2011-12-01T09:31:00.000-08:00

After a fabulous Thanksgiving at Belhurst Castle with my family and amazing nephew who was in town from (no sleep till) Brooklyn, I spent the rest of the weekend -- until this very morning -- in bed with the flu. The Christmas tree is literally half decorated as the first wave hit me like a hurricane as I was attempting to affix the (not tacky at all, thanks for asking) black Labrador angel to the treetop. Blech.

I did have a momentary lapse in sanity when I thought that, perchance, I was okay, so I went to the pool on Monday a.m. and then to the 6:45 a.m. mass at St. Louis only to get the sweats and shakes and run like hell.

Today, I am back to my sunny office, feeling on top of my game (and who wouldn't after working 36 hours from M-W this week in bed!?) only to discover that, hey, I'M A WIENER (insert hotdog wingding here)! I won a Stella + Dot bracelet from local blogger Chic and Green.

Who's the coolest chick in town? I am! I am! Thanks to my new best friend, whom I've never met, Karley. #winning

And now for fun, I'm reprising last year's photo-a-day series (taken during the month of November) with my second annual photo-a-day series (a month later). My audience loved it. Critics adored it. I think I even had a comment or two. Fans galore!

So without further ado: my sunny office as taken from behind my desk. Exciting, right? It doesn't get much better than this. You can't see me in the mirror because, I'm skillfully hidden behind the white door panels (well, except the arm taking the picture). I'm amazing like Kreskin.

Happy December y'all.

All in a Day's Work

2011-11-18T10:02:00.000-08:00

There's nothing I love more when trying to work than listening to the radio, the sound of hammering, and painters who are refurbishing my old space for the new tenants talking about how girls have gotten hotter since they graduated from high school (but they themselves haven’t changed much).

Landlord? Check please.

You Can Tuna Piano

2011-11-17T14:08:00.000-08:00

Do you know what doesn't match a grey, pinstripe skirt?

Tuna salad, that's what.

Do you know what you may have to do when you eat lunch in your car?

Stop anywhere immediately off the expressway exit for a new wardrobe, that's what.

In today's case, Kohl's. No, I don't want a credit card. No, I don't want to be on your mailing list. I just want a cheap skirt and the ability to get out of here pronto.

Fly the Unfriendly Skies

2011-11-16T10:10:00.000-08:00

As a constant living-the-brand fanatic, I have to post about a recent experience on a United Airlines flight from IAD to ORD last Thursday. When I boarded, Maurice -- the famous-in-certain-circles dude from the United safety video (everyone who flies would recognize him, I swear) -- and two of his counterparts were seated in the row immediately in front of me. Even though they were passengers, they all wore their United uniforms complete with yellow striping on the shoulders. Fame in our midst!

At the end of the flight, as we were descending to O'Hare, the father seated next to me pulled a travel bag out from under the seat in front of him, gathered his two little daughters' electronics, dolls and books from across the aisle and started packing. Without prompting, the United employee seated directly in front of him totally freaked out and laid into him about bumping his seat. The dad quietly apologized and explained that he was just trying to pack his kids' stuff before landing. The United employee angrily responded, "Don't hit my seat again."

I was oddly shaken. Sure, I don't know what's going on in this guy's life. Maybe he has long-standing anger management issues or possibly he's just having a difficult time right now. But a lashing like that from anyone, especially someone in uniform, is totally unmerited.

As we stood to deplane, I fully expected this guy to apologize. Something along the lines of, "I'm really sorry about my outburst. I've had a rough day and didn't mean to take it out on you" would have gone a long way to repairing the incident. Instead, he just walked away. I also hoped that Maurice, a somewhat high profile brand ambassador, would have had the dignity, integrity and chops to speak up.

United breaks more than guitars -- they break all the rules of brand and social etiquette. So much for the Friendly Skies.

Banff Tree Huggers

2011-11-15T09:11:00.000-08:00

For a chick who doesn't like the cold, I loooooooooooved my trip to Banff! Total relaxation with girlfriends and 100% stress free. Now, as official tree huggers, it's time to put the log in travelog!

Day one: I arrived late so we just had time for some shopping in town. Did I mention that town looks like an alpine village? Yodel - Ay - EEE - Oooo

The mountains are everywhere! The next day, we went to yoga (ahhhhh, finally) where the mountains greeted us from the windows of the studio. Then we went for a two hour hike on the Fenland Trail along this stream . . .

. . . to the Vermilion Lakes. Did I mention that it was cold? And that we were gone for two hours? It was so amazing.

I'm getting my days mixed up but I'm pretty sure we went for cocktails (I had a pear martini with cranberries floating in it!) and dinner at the Banff Springs Hotel that night. Sher was priddy.

On Day 3, my girlfriend Margaroo and I drove to Lake Louise. We stopped on the way to avoid hitting an elk. (My first elk sighting! Ever!)

At Lake Louise, we stopped to take pictures of the lake and glacier. Please note the mountain on the left . . .

Why? Because we climbed it. We didn't mean to, it just happened when we began following a path that we assumed (incorrectly) wound around the lake. On the way, we were greeted by a friendly woodsman and his wife whose hair was covered in frost and frozen to her face. He warned us of grizzly bears, told us to make a lot of noise but shared that the climb would be worth it.

He was right. The searing pain in the lungs. The way-too-many-to-count stops to catch our breath. The stunning frost covered hair that I would also acquire. All worth it for this view.

As true women of the wild (also known as idiots), we decided to take the path less traveled on our descent. We went down the side of the mountain where we followed a thin, thin track made by possibly two other non-outdoorsy morons. We could have tumbled to our deaths at any moment. At times we slid on our butts to avoid catapulting off an embankment. Yep, sher was priddy.

For Day 4 we have no pictures because we spent the entire day, eight hours!, at the Banff Springs Hotel Spa. We went to yoga (again!), got massages, swam in the lap pool, swam in the outdoors heated pool, went in/out of hot tubs (there were four or five all heated at different temps), rested in the steam room, rested in the dry sauna, rested in the eucalyptus inhalation room, rested and ate lunch in the "relaxation room," and went for a dip in the indoor mineral pool. So indulgent.

On Day 5, my last day, we drove to Invermere, British Columbia. Here we went to the hot springs, of course, where the waters are hot on one side and simply warm on the other.This is the simply warm side.

Since we were at a lower elevation, there was less snow on the ground here but, yikes, there was indeed ice on the deck (as I clearly remember because I had to stand on it to take the above picture).

And, lo and behold, the lifeguards were wearing sweatpants! Yes, sweatpants! Clearly not the best location for a scantily clad David Hasselhoff sighting.

On our way home, we stopped to enjoy the view. Wow, more mountains! Who knew? The only picture we did not take was of the "avalanche warning" sign.

Lastly, we paused briefly over the continental divide. I was in the back seat (i.e., west coast) and Margaret and Brian were in the front seat (i.e., east coast).

Alas, all good things must come to an end. For a brief moment in time, I had heaps of fun in the frigid air of Canada with my girlfriends from Australia and awesome Canadian hubby/kids!

Alone Again (Naturally)

2011-11-11T10:26:00.000-08:00

My Myers-Briggs Profile is ENTP. And the E, for extrovert, is a strong E. Ergo, I need people around for energy. Working alone in this office for the next eight months is going to be the death of me. Facebook is my proverbial water cooler. Now, thanks to the hubby, I have a virtual team of supporters to praise me all the livelong day. I only hope they add some of the golden nuggets suggested by my old HR department.

I'm becoming my very own version of Stuart Smalley. I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And doggone it, people like me.

Mountain Mama

2011-11-10T09:59:00.000-08:00

Just got back from a glorious trip to Banff where I stayed at a friend's home on the corner of Elk and Squirrel. Seriously. You can't make this stuff up. (There's also Beaver and Cougar but they don't intersect.)

More on my life as a wild mountaineering woman later. For now, I simply bring you Elk and Squirrel.

Who Put the End in Weekend?

2011-10-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

The weekend that got away. Oh where, oh where, have my Saturdays gone? Oh where, oh where can they be?

On Friday night, we attended the annual pumpkin carving party. Food. Wine. Bonfire. Garage filled with tables upon tables of kids and adults carving pumpkins. The event is punctuated each year with our friend Brad carving a pumpkin with a chainsaw while the votes are tabulated.

Carving with a chainsaw

A few of the many pumpkins waiting to be judged

Saturday, we stood in the chilly autumn air, covered in blankets, to watch Son #2's Little League team (finally) beat their opponents. After suffering loss upon loss, it felt so good.

And Sunday, after brunch with my girlfriends, Son #2 and I hit the batting cages. I seriously should have worn batting gloves -- I never realized how much hitting a baseball hurts your hands! Ouch.

Next time, I'm coming prepared. And I'm taking no prisoners.

Go Public (or Go Home)

2011-10-21T11:33:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday night, I went down with the Chinchildren to our local NPR & PBS affiliate, WXXI, to watch the Chinchillas perform live for the music series OnStage. So much fun. I hadn't been in a TV studio since I went to see one of my old bosses get interviewed on Sally Jessy Raphael (remember her?). This recent taping was clearly a much more interesting experience, to say the least.

It felt so Austin City Limits-like. Groovy baby.

Photo courtesy of (aka "stolen from") the Stan the Man's Facebook page.

Fall Haikus

2011-10-18T12:22:00.000-07:00

Autumn Romantic
A chill in the air
Jumping in a pile of leaves
Warming by the fire

Autumn Realistic
Layered in sweaters
Fall Ball in the wind and rain
Freezing my tights off

Top Chef Junior

2011-10-17T07:33:00.000-07:00

The other night, Son #2 and I were home alone. He asked if he could make dinner for me. Of course!

Spiral noodles, butter, black olives and fresh, grated Parmesan cheese. Simple. Delicious. Love.

While I had to help carry the heavy pot of boiling water to the colander in the sink, he did the rest. He set the table, picked out his favorite drummer candle (that my girlfriend Kim brought to him from Africa) and made me close my eyes while he was "plating" my meal. Surprise!

Swoon. It's nice to feel so loved!

Make Believe You're In a Jungle Movie

2011-10-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning, thanks to a snafu on my boss' part and a lack of communication on my part, we had a room full of clients in Atlanta at 7:00 a.m. whereas my boss thought the meeting started an hour later (i.e., she wasn't there). I apologized profusely but my client was totally cool about it. Actually, I was so mortified that I must have apologized a hundred times.

Today, I received a box full of fresh, gourmet strawberries dipped and molded into various animal shapes, along with a note that said, "We've all had an off day, here's to today being better!"

I also liked the message on the packaging (which, of course, I botched with my unpacking and my mad photography skills).

What a really, really nice and thoughtful gesture, no?!

Work Life Balance

2011-10-12T09:14:00.000-07:00

You know you're overworked when:

Your son bursts into tears and tells you how much he misses you -- and you live with him
You meet a friend for a quick salad/glass of chardonnay at a restaurant in your hometown -- and you feel like you're on vacation

Flickr image from John Lam

Focus

2011-10-11T05:53:00.000-07:00

At a meeting near Ottawa on Friday, we were told by the head of HR not to use the word "focus" in front of the team because it meant something different at their company.

F* off 'cause you're stupid.

Good to know. And particularly interesting coming from HR . . .

Mother of the Year

2011-10-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, feeling overwhelmed, I started sobbing at work. Later, my computer crashed. Blue screen. "Beginning dump of physical memory." Not that there's ever a good time for that but, now? Really?

Around 7:00 p.m., on the way home, as I was losing my mind, one of my favorite songs was playing on The Zone (a station I never, ever listen to but may start now): Where is my Mind? And the bumper sticker on the truck in front of me read, "Nope to Self." What exactly does that mean?

As I pulled onto my street, I noticed my mom's car pulling into my driveway. She had gone for dinner/drinks with her girlfriends and brought with her an empty travel mug. Why? To buy a cosmopolitan for me, sneak it out of the restaurant and deliver it to my doorstep at the very moment I arrived home.

Some may call that enabling. I call that love.

Thanks mom.

Crank v. Prank

2011-10-06T06:25:00.000-07:00

Looking for a good, harmless practical joke? Put a million items for sale on Craigslist along with your neighbor's phone number.

You can thank me later. I'm too busy right now fielding phone calls about a Chevy Suburban.

Working Class Hero

2011-10-05T09:56:00.000-07:00

According to the wrapper on my Dove chocolate miniature, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. So much for uplifting maxims. Now I'm feeling fat AND resentful.

Canned . . . what?

2011-10-04T05:39:00.000-07:00

"Mama, do you know what my favorite part of the day is? It's right when I get in bed to go to sleep. My arms are around monkey and he feels all warm and furry. And your arms are around me and you kiss me goodnight. It the best feeling in the world.

It's the greatest thing since canned bread."

NostraDNIS

2011-09-30T04:50:00.000-07:00

Dear "Phil,"

While I appreciate your messages about the "huge opportunity" for me with Yahoo!, Google and Bing, can't your predictive dialer predict that no one will be in our office to answer your calls at 10:00 p.m. night after night?

Sincerely yours,

Sleeping in Suburbia

P.S. I have been channeling Miss Cleo lately and have some amazing insights for you including this: no one is interested. Give it a rest.

California Stars

2011-09-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

Customer satisfaction survey data tabulation. Net promoter scores. Employee focus group facilitation. Screening job candidates. Travel. Email newsletters. Secondary industry research. Market size. Growth rates. Testimonial ad campaigns. Outbound telemarketing vendor sourcing. Competitive analysis. Expense reports. Financial trends across business units.

Not complaining. Just need a nap. And more hours in the day.

I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight
On a bed of California stars
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight
On a bed of California stars

Not All Almas Mat(t)er

2011-09-27T13:51:00.000-07:00

I got a call from my undergrad university last night and answered the phone with zero intention of giving. While I had heaps of fun there, I never learned much. (Note: Not pointing fingers at them, Lord knows.) Grad school was, thankfully, a completely different story.

The girl on the phone said to me, "We're really appreciative of any small amount that you can give and we're still grateful for the $10 you gave in 1990."

Holy crap! How embarrassing, right? A mere $10 over 20 years ago? What a cheapskate!

Oddly enough, I remember giving that year -- including exactly where I took the call. (I was standing at my kitchen sink in a red farmhouse that house I rented on Jefferson Road. Weird to remember that, right?) The guy who called told me that any amount would help offset the costs of great student events and cited a free Psychedelic Furs concert that I had attended. Ka-ching! We actually chatted about bands for awhile: for me, a winning strategy. In his case, it paid to do his homework (albeit a pittance).

Every telemarketing campaign should play off people's interests (e.g., music) or weaknesses (e.g., shame, lack of honor) this successfully. In my case, providing hard data and a timeline to show precisely how long it had been since my hard heart opened roughly one tenth of one percent and abruptly closed again.

I'm a rotter.

I just hope that overwhelmingly generous $50 given last night goes far over the next four score and twenty years . . .

Yeah for me!

Adorkable

2011-09-26T05:22:00.000-07:00

Son #2 (squeezing his balding, stuffed monkey): You are soooooo adorable.

Son #1: More like "adorkable."

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey . . .

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

2011-09-24T05:08:00.000-07:00

This week I went to Son #1's middle school for open house and hustled from class to class following his schedule and meeting his teachers. My the times they are a-changin'!

The teachers all wear mics around their necks and their voices are piped through speakers across the ceiling so that even when the teacher has his/her back to the classroom, for example while writing on the board, the sound is clearly audible. Nothing distracting.

And just when I thought the smart boards were cool, the kids now have handheld remotes by which they answer questions in class (like the audience voting in Who Wants to be a Millionaire) and the results can be displayed real-time via charts. Pop quizzes are automatically calculated and uploaded into the "infinite campus" where I can review my son's grades whenever I want: monthly, daily, minute-by-minute.

The teachers give out their cell phone numbers and students call or text them with questions. My teachers were never that accessible. And to the best of my knowledge, my teachers never had first names, did they? (Except the nuns: they never had last names.)

What else? The school is structured around a set of Core Values including kindness, respect, caring, integrity and justice. Not only are these values painted around the school, they're incorporated in the grading system. In gym, you don't have to be a super athlete to get an A. You have to try hard and behave in accordance with the value system. Pretty impressive.

Lastly, speaking of gym, it isn't just traditional sports like swimming, soccer and relay races. Last year, the kids staged a flash mob. What the ? We certainly never did that!

I have to say, I think Son #1 has found his element. The freedom to pursue what he wants and have fun. Pretty darned cool.

Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going through

Dishap Defined

2011-09-23T06:23:00.000-07:00

We've been playing this game in the evenings lately where I repeatedly throw an inflatable ball toward the back door and the kids try to block it from hitting. Or I throw it into the air and the kids have to dive for the couch and catch it before it lands. Except when we knock a lamp over or cause items to fall from the mantle, there are usually a few funny plays that make us laugh.

In the midst of the mayhem the other night, Son #2 said, "Stop laughing at my dishaps." We asked him, "What's a dishap?" and he responded, "It's a mishap and a disability."

Puhlease. The only person in our house with any physical limitations is me. Just ask the ceiling fan/light fixture how it felt after I smashed it to pieces with the Shake Weight. Maybe I should only be allowed to play outdoors. Better yet, maybe I should stick to reading books; leave the activities to the pros.

Steve Madden NFL

2011-09-22T08:09:00.000-07:00

And now for a new addition to the list of things that I never thought I'd have to say:
"Don't chase your brother while he's wearing high heels."

Strangers with Candy

2011-09-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a delivery man stopped by with a large package from one of our vendors. As he stood there, I opened it and (like an ingrate) said, "I really don't need any of this crap." He noted the bag of cookies on top and responded, "My grandmother taught me never to turn down chocolate chip cookies."

Me: Oh really? Would you like some cookies??

Him: No thanks.

Apparently someone isn't heeding grandma's advice. This clearly falls in the "save your marketing dollars for someone who cares" category. Between designing, printing, sourcing, picking, packing, shipping and delivering -- what a colossal waste of money. The irony of it all was the 96 page, four-color, bound "we mean green" insert. Put your money where your mouth is? Oh well. Time for some cookies.

IHOP

2011-09-20T13:14:00.000-07:00

Q: Is it strange that our son pulls his pants down, bends over, pretends his cute, little, naked butt is talking and calls said talking butt "Dr. Waffles"?

A: Not in our house. Nope, not strange at all.

Oh, oh, oh, oh Wilco

2011-09-16T13:55:00.000-07:00

What's on the docket this weekend?

Why a quick trip across the lake to Toronto with my girlfriend Yams to see Nick Lowe and Wilco. Hey, that rhymes! Oh, oh, oh, oh Nick Lowe.

Watching the Detectives

2011-09-15T08:47:00.000-07:00

I arrived at work this morning to find my usually locked door slightly ajar. And by slightly ajar, I mean completely smashed off the door frame.

Pretty subtle, eh? The perp (I never get to use that term!) used our water bottle in the hallway as a battering ram. Clever, right?

Me, not being fully awake at 7:00 a.m., thought the following: Hmmm, why is our water bottle on the ground? Wow, did I leave the door unlocked last night? What is that mess on the floor?

I continued to walk into my office where I noticed my laptop unplugged and moved. Odd, right? Ohhhhhhhhhh, wait a minute . . .

None too quick.

Of course, I immediately called the police. The dispatcher asked if anyone else was there. "Nope, the entire parking lot and garage are empty." Just then I heard footsteps. "Oh, I take that back, I hear someone upstairs."

Her response, "Get outside and away from the building right now." (The killer is in the house!)

So the cops came, looked around, took fingerprints and heaps of photos, asked oodles of questions about ex-coworkers/marital status/disputes and left. Now I'm sitting here alone waiting for someone from the building management to fix my door; otherwise, I cannot leave to go anywhere. No clients today anyway but now no errands. No library research. No nothing.

Super sleuth that I am, I did mention to the officers how the alarm did, in fact, say "burglary in progress" when I turned it off this morning. However, it says that almost every day. So often that they disconnected the alarm from the 911 system. I also mentioned how the door to the front lawn was wide open. Also a daily event. What none of us noticed was the hallway window open or the footprints in the side yard leading to my window. Scary . . .

When we packed up the office and moved everything to Denver last week, I didn't think there would be so many fun and fabulous events in store for me. Sure, my friend Charlie -- who is suddenly alone in an office in Baltimore -- and I joked about naked Skype-ing (time to go on the diet!) but never did I imagine I could be all alone with danger. Danger! Lucky me.

What's freaky is that nothing was taken. Aborted attempt? Someone messing with me?

I guess this means I should leave before it gets dark every night. Always an upside!

Foxy!

2011-09-13T03:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went to a new client site. One guy's office that I entered was filled to the brim. Boxes on the floor with parts, cords, papers. Racks and racks of WIP that were rolled in from the production floor. It was difficult to make a path through the wreckage just to sit at his desk.

Me: Wow, I really like what you've done with this place.

Him: Well, if I knew what a fox you were, I would have picked up a bit.

Two thoughts: 1) I love you. Really. What a nice compliment from a total stranger (albeit strangely unprofessional). It really pays to have clients out in the boondocks where I still pass as foxy. 2) A fox? Who the heck says that?! OMG. I just met with Garth!

Sign Sign Everywhere a Sign

2011-09-09T11:50:00.000-07:00

On our trip, we encountered two signs that I wish I had snapped pictures of (yeah, another pesky dangling preposition):

(1) "Back by popular demand: fried bologna biscuits" (Shining brightly in front of a vile Hardees somewhere near a real-life, Deliverance-like, hellhole in VA)

(2) "Antique tables made daily" (another VA gem)

The good news? I found the latter online. And, in an odd twist of fate, I think we actually own one.

Summer Vacation: Stop #5

2011-09-05T07:49:00.000-07:00

Our final stop on Summer Vacation 2011 was spent at a beautiful resort in the mountains of PA: the Bedford Springs Hotel. It turned out to be a great place to explore. I started immediately upon check-in by heading to the tavern with Grannie and Son #2 in tow. We also found the game room with giant puzzles, chess boards, books, etc. Every room was so well appointed.

And there were little surprises hidden throughout. Nooks and crannies to escape and read a book. It had the requisite gift and pro shops but also a candy store as well as this sweet (!) ice cream and cupcake shop.

Pretty sure I could live here--especially if we could have hot chocolate for breakfast every morning!

We had the luxuriously warm, spring-fed, indoor pool to ourselves. That's me impersonating a jumbo shrimp.

Thanks to Hurricane Irene, we had the dark, overcast, outdoor pool to ourselves, as well.

Time to leave the pools, go back to the room to change and start driving home.

The only wave of "can we go now?" boredom struck as we waited for the car. Hey, that's what the large ottomans in the lobby are for, right?

Goodbye summer. Goodbye vacation.

Summer Vacation: Stop #4

2011-09-02T07:05:00.000-07:00

Stop #4 was not originally in our plan. It wasn't until we spent over two hours stuck in traffic on I-95 heading out of DC earlier in the week that my VA-based brother suggested we take an alternate route home and stop at their place in Charlottesville, VA. A little off-track but likely to be roughly the same length of time. Sounded good to us!

Although we didn't stay overnight, we had a wonderful afternoon visiting them, touring Thomas Jefferson's Monticello and having a bite to eat. Thanks to my bro for taking the time off for us and to both him and my sister-in-law for running around gathering necessities for our stay (e.g., air mattresses, chocolate and pop-tarts) only to realize we were motoring on.

Grannie and Aunt Sue (a.k.a. Jackie O) in front of the flowers that were stunningly gorgeous but said flowers look more like weeds on this pic from my iPhone. (But Grannie and Sue still look lovely!)

Little man sitting outside the west front of the home wearing his new, 70s-inspired, Save the Endangered Sea Turtles t-shirt from Grannie.

A perfect break from our long drive home!

Summer Vacation: Stop #3 continues . . .

2011-09-01T10:09:00.000-07:00

Our week-long stay at Ocean Isle Beach, NC was so awesome. Church on the beach. Swimming in the waaaaaarm ocean. Swimming in the pool. Renting bicycles. Relaxing. Learning about sea turtles and their nesting patterns. No pressure. No laptop. Just the chance to hang with my NC brother and his adorable family for the first time in a couple of years.

My sister-in-law found a great little condo right on the beach. Here is our backyard.

Here are some men fishing on the sound (on the other side of our condo) taken from where Grannie and I were sitting on a bench and meditating (or chatting, you decide).

So peaceful. Actually, the entire island was fairly deserted. Probably because schools in the South start earlier than those of their northern kinfolk. Possibly because of the impending hurricane. Either way, it was great.

My kids got a chance to spend time with their youngest cousin. So blinkin' cute. They also got a chance to hear his sweet lil' Southern accent and learn some new phrases of their own. "Don't you backjaw me boy."

The best part for me, other than being all snugly with the family, is always the beach.

Goodbye Ocean Isle Beach. You were very good to us.

Summer Vacation: Stop #3

2011-08-31T13:52:00.000-07:00

Next stop: The beach. La playa. Just like heaven.

But, for today, heaven (and blogging) can wait.

Summer Vacation: Stop #2

2011-08-30T06:39:00.000-07:00

Our second stop: Our nation's capital where we stayed at the Dupont Circle Hotel. I felt so Sydney Ellen Wade-ish! (Looove her.)

After we checked in, we relaxed, ate lunch in the groovy bar, watched the crowds walk by and, just as we were headed out to explore the city, Son #1 fell ill. Different son. Same illness? So the kids and Grannie hung for the afternoon as I walked over to my girlfriend/BFF Kim's yoga studio to meet her and her darling daughter. Later that night, my fabulous girlfriend Kristy came in from Northern VA and, due to the torrential rain, we had an overpriced, bland, nondescript dinner (followed by watery, bland martinis) just across the street at Kramerbooks and Afterwords Cafe as the lightening lit up the skies over the atrium in which we were dining. Scary and yet very cool.

The next day, we did many of the requisite kid-friendly things in town: walked from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial stopping at the WWII Memorial and Washington Monument along the way. (Long walk! Oppressive heat!) We ended our day of sightseeing at Son #1's favorite stop: The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, of course.

Madeline showing a strong proclivity toward her hippie parents' liberal bias.

Afternoon tea for some; dinner for others.

Cupcakes and chocolate croissants for breakfast at the Firehook bakery! Yum! All's fair game when traveling with Grannie. No need to use your hands.

Riding on the metro . . .

Is that a monument in the distance or are you just glad to see us?

I have better pics of everyone under their favorite states at the WWII Memorial; however, this photo is my fave because it captures Son #1 clearly complaining about something that I'm, as usual, doing to annoy him!

Next stop: the beach. Amen. Amen.

Summer Vacation: Stop #1

2011-08-29T10:03:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize the extent of my soothsaying capabilities when I posted the pre-vacation "for tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun" song. Damn Irene. Based on photos of storm damage throughout Central PA (i.e., our path home), I feel like we made the right decision to come back a day earlier than planned. Sorry to my brothers, their wives and my mom who were all given the bum's rush.

Our first stop: Hershey, PA. The kids had been watching YouTube videos for weeks planning what roller coasters they wanted to ride. We got there and Son #2's face drained of all color and his lips turned grey. Maybe it was the heat; maybe it was the size of the coasters. Regardless, I did what any responsible adult would do: I let Son #1 stand on line by himself for 45 minutes and go on the Fahrenheit all alone. Is that so wrong? Son #2 chose what we thought was a mellow ride, the aptly named Wild Mouse, which we rode together and then he collapsed on the floor of the gift shop. Not to outdo myself, I then left him alone on a bench while Son #1 and I went on more rides. Mother of the Year.

Many hours and hundreds of dollars later, armed with a stuffed silver kiss named Milton and a cookbook filled with chocolate recipes, we arrived back at the hotel. The day I thought was a bust was later cited as one of the best parts of the trip. Go figure.

Where next? For travel advice, it's always best to consult a balding, newspaper-reading monkey and Milton.

I'll Follow the Sun

2011-08-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

Goodbye work. Hello ten day vacation!

Me: This is the longest vacation I've ever taken.
Hubby: No, you went to Australia for six months.
Me: That was in 1987!

Redact. This is the longest vacation I've taken in 24 blinkin' years.

I. Cannot. Wait. A. Moment. Longer.

Lost in Amsterdam

2011-08-15T07:16:00.000-07:00

Not sure why I'm posting so many songs lately, your very own blogger DJ (hooker, waitress, model, actress). Regardless, today's song goes out to my niece who is not even a reader of this blog. Alas.

She was just a tiny little kid (one of the cutest, black haired, alabaster skinned kids ever) when I started dating the hubby a million years ago. I remember her reading a picture book aloud. She couldn't pronounce the Y in yellow; however, she called Indians, "yindians." "How can you say yindians and not yellow?" he asked and she started laughing. And then she started practicing her Ys.

We've watched from a far as she went through her goofy sock stage -- where she would wear two different crazy socks every day -- to her endless fascination, at a young age, with storm chasing. Of course, as the hubby's family is prone to intellectual pursuits, she was the valedictorian of her HS class and got a free ride not just to undergrad but also for her (not-just-one-but) two Master's degrees. She's now an environmentalist living in DC with her foodie boyfriend and having the time of her life.

Brainiac.

The one constant through all of these years: a love of Guster. When she was too young to go to alone, the hubby took her to her first Guster show. Tonight, she's going to her umpteenth Guster concert at Wolf Trap. My kids don't like the band at all but I have a bit of a sweet spot for them just because they remind me of Christine. All grown up.

Holdin' on to Black Metal

2011-08-14T15:37:00.000-07:00

I daresay, this darling of the college airwaves is growing on me. Maybe because it's on the radio every time I step into my car? Or because it sounds like something I would have listened to in the 80s? Crowded House meets . . . who knows. Anyhoo, they're coming to a city near you, my lone reader, on Wednesday, August 24. Git yer tickets now!

Wrecking Ball

2011-08-12T08:01:00.000-07:00

Did you ever wonder what nine year old boys dream about? No? Well, that's good 'cause I'm not allowed to tell you. Suffice it to say, their dreams are a bizarre mix of plunging roller coasters, being chased by chainsaw massacrers, priests wearing bear suits and fat giraffes being used as wrecking balls -- that last part being the worst part of all. "Giraffes should never be used as wrecking balls."

But you didn't read that here.

A Thousand Miles from Nowhere

2011-08-10T18:05:00.000-07:00

Too tired to work. Too awake to sleep. Sitting in a dodgy Ramada Inn watching old videos on YouTube and feeling a bit melancholy. Time don't matter to me.

Let Me Off!

2011-08-09T07:23:00.000-07:00

Taking her cues from our client, my boss wrote the following in a presentation for today, "Breaks will be provided throughout the meeting. Healthy minds and bodies produce better thinking!"

Later, there is a section about living a healthy lifestyle that poses the question, "What one thing should you change about your lifestyle to be healthier?"

Around 9:30 p.m. last night, after her flight home was delayed, cancelled, re-booked, etc. she called me, at work, from LaGuardia. I just had to bust her chops re: this new found, softer side.

"Oh, did you like that?" she asked while chuckling.

"Yeah, and I have an answer to the 'one thing I should change' question, too! I think my boss needs to move to Colorado and I should get a new job!"

I'm not sure if it was the later hour, the much-needed stress relief or just the sheer hilarity of visualizing her presenting these work/life balance tidbits, but we were laughing so hard, I had tears rolling down my cheeks.

Sure, our balance is not optimal, but it helps to have some fun in the midst.

Punch Drunk

2011-08-08T06:26:00.000-07:00

When I was in grad school, a little shop on Schoen Place become available for rent. I called the landlord and asked about the price per square foot. "What do you have in mind for the space?" he asked. I told him I was thinking of a Wine Bar.

"A wine bar? What the hell is that?"

When I told him, I swear to God, he barked that there was no such thing and hung up on me. I was fit to be tied.

Anyhoo, yesterday, my girlfriend Ellen and Dan, her boyfriend, were chatting with me about what the next foodie craze may be. Last night, as we were watching the Food Channel (or some derivative), it occurred to me that the time is ripe for a Punch Bar.

I would need a highly trained mixologist and a constantly changing menu of delicious, punch-bowl recipes made with ingredients like absinthe, exotic herbs/spices sourced daily from my organic greenhouse, high-end/scarcely known liquors made by elves, bizarre fruit juices from other planets, flaming concoctions, etc. Like the mai tai gone wild and refashioned for the new millennium.

Fun, right?

I'm Not No Limburger

2011-08-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

Drove to Lockport, just north of Buffalo, last night to see the B-52's with the kiddos and the boy next door.

Gorgeous night. Outdoor show.

Pretty sure the entire city of Buffalo smokes. Until last night, I wouldn't have guessed that a cloud of smoke could hover over a crowd outside; I would have been wrong. Blech.

Son #1 told me that I was allowed to dance but made me promise that I would not make any of my crazy rally cries. I acquiesced. The lady next to me did not make any such agreement. After one of her howling outcries, I received the snake eye and responded, "I swear to God, that wasn't me."

When she did it again, he was stunned. Yes, I am not alone in my madness. (Hey, so don't that make you feel a whole lot better, huh?)

Everybody goes to parties. They dance this mess around.

Let's Groove

2011-08-04T06:05:00.000-07:00

I went to dinner at Bistro 135 with my girlfriends from Saatchi last night
LET THIS GROOVE, GET YOU TO MOVE
Such a great little restaurant
IT'S ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
Beautiful outdoor patio that feels like it came straight out of the Upper East Side
LET THIS GROOVE, SET IN YOUR SHOES
Delicious food: calamari, spicy chicken sliders, black bean hummus, squash ravioli
STAND UP, ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
$5 martinis (I had a grape cosmopolitan)
GONNA TELL YOU WHAT YOU CAN DO
Usually with a good jazz band playing on the stage upstairs
WITH MY LOVE, ALRIGHT
Last night we were regaled by a loud disco band
LET YOU KNOW GIRL YOU'RE LOOKING GOOD
What?
YOU'RE OUT OF SIGHT, ALRIGHT
I need my miracle ear, what?
JUST MOVE YOURSELF AND GLIDE LIKE A 747
But we still managed to have heaps of fun
AND LOSE YOURSELF IN THE SKY AMONG THE CLOUDS IN THE HEAVENS
And dance our way, through the dance floor, out of the bar
LET THIS GROOVE, LIGHT UP YOUR FUSE, IT'S ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
Into the quiet night

Now THAT Would Have Been a Miracle

2011-08-03T11:49:00.000-07:00

On most mornings, I go to the gym and then to church. I know, I'm a total freak but in my defense it: a) started during Lent, b) is right on the way to work, c) has the correct timing to still get me to work early, d) is easier than reading the Bible alone and e) feels like the perfect way to start the day.

This morning's first reading was about the Israelites who were sent to scout the promised land and came back with fears about the race of giants that was already living there. “We cannot attack these people; they are too strong for us.”

The elderly priest who presides over the 6:30 a.m. mass is prone on more days than not to tell a joke just to see if we're awake yet or comment on how amazing it is that we're all there so early in the morning. (It really is packed on most mornings. Who knew?) Today's random comment was my favorite, "They were afraid of the Amalekites, Hittites, Jebusites, Bud Lights and Amorites." The best part was that he just keep preaching as if the Bud Lights really were part of this race of huge, veritable giants.

I do believe, however, if there really was a giant race of Bud Lights living there, it wouldn't have taken most men 40 years to enter the promised land. Right? We could have saved a lot of time that was otherwise spent wandering the desert with nothing to eat and drink but manna and water. God provided Moses with a staff to bring forth water from rocks. Surely he would have also provided a giant bottle opener, no?

Welcome August

2011-07-31T16:03:00.000-07:00

So long July. We hardly knew ye.

Our day in pictures . . .

Son #1 with Billy Idol-styled hair courtesy of high speed tubing on choppy waters earlier this afternoon. We called it quits not after Son #1 was thrown from the tube but approximately 10 minute later when both kids flew roughly six feet in the air, landed with a thud but somehow, miraculously, remained in the inner tube.

Son #2 gazing at the lake and wondering how, against all odds, did his two loose teeth remain in his jaw after taking a beating while tubing. Behind the lens, me (tooth fairy on standby), wondering how, against all odds, did we all forget to make them put on their life vests after stopping at the Pier House for lunch.

The well-decorated shed behind the cottage bearing my bro-in-law's name and, I'm guessing, remnants of a few of the herd he so mercilessly turned into venison chili. (Yum! Sorry Tim.)

A tribute to a (clearly much loved) dog, Pa Pa's Boy, who died almost 100 years ago, marking the entrance to the driveway to the cottage. Most weekends he's donning Mardi Gras beads or a sombrero or basically anything festive. Today, he was naked. For whatever the reason, I love him.

Seabreeze

2011-07-30T14:39:00.000-07:00

The boys and I scored free tickets from the boss to Seabreeze today: Rochester's answer to Coney Island. Hot. Sunny. Perfect. The busiest day of the year for the park. D'oh!

We rode heaps o' rides including my favorite, the Jack Rabbit, a roller coaster that, when it opened in 1920, was the fastest roller coaster in the world. It's wooden, rickety, still fast and reminds me of the days of my youth. Although they fly by at lightening speed, the panoramic vistas of the vast blue lake and white sailboats are stunning from a great height.

I even went in the wave pool which is surprisingly fun. For most of the day, however, I relaxed poolside while the kids went down all of the slides and body flumes. Gone for hours I daresay.

Tonight: cookout and sangria at my girlfriend's across the street. Outdoor movies for the kids.

Summertime and the living is easy.

St. Thomas More

2011-07-29T15:28:00.000-07:00

My girlfriend's parents have a gilded frame replica of this painting hanging in their library. It took me by surprise the first time I saw it. One snowy Saturday, I stumbled upon the real painting at the Frick. Once again, total surprise. I stood and stared.

To my millions of readers, any idea why?

Old Dog

2011-07-27T07:26:00.000-07:00

I baked a peach cobbler the other night.

Yes, you read that right!

I (subject)

baked (verb)

a peach cobbler (direct object)

When I brought it out, still piping hot and topped with vanilla ice cream, to the picnic table on the patio, Son #2 said to his friend Mikey, "This is the first time my mom has ever cooked."

I don't care if it was the easiest recipe on the planet. I baked a peach cobbler. Take that Rachel Ray.

Wait!

2011-07-25T04:56:00.000-07:00

I want my weekend back!

Hey 19

2011-07-24T18:03:00.000-07:00

The weekend is over and I'm plumb tuckered out. I spent most of Saturday with my girlfriend Mary first volunteering in the food tent at the 10 Ugly Men festival to raise money for local charities and later hanging in the VIP tent at a Steely Dan concert.

At 10 Ugly Men, we encountered the Pizza Nazi: a woman who, I'm guessing, was the volunteer coordinator and barked at everyone from volunteers to paying customers. Screaming at people who were cutting the line, "You may think you're cute but I'm not serving you without a plate." Really? Do you have to be that nasty?

We had a line a mile long for people waiting for food. We also had a line of volunteers at the end waiting to serve. The bottleneck was the center where the mac and potato salads were being doled out. Those of us at the end, in an attempt to alleviate the wait, were taking orders from people earlier in the line. "You cannot serve people meat this early. They have to pass the salads." Stoopid.

One woman said to us in a feigned whimper, "If she yells at me one more time, I'm leaving. I've been here since 7:30 this morning and I'm a volunteer for chrissake."

Another volunteer taught me how to make sure the condiments and napkin holders were always full as if it were the most challenging and critical job on the planet. Oh, the pressure . . .

So we moved from flipping burgers on a sunny day with temps over 100 degrees to sipping wine and eating prime rib on a very comfortable night under the stars. My favorite part of hobnobbing with the local elite was discovering how everyone shakes hands while reading your name tag. Hello! My eyes are up here! (I'm guessing, since I was a guest of a VIP, they were trying to figure out if I was somebody noteworthy. Nope.)

Steely Dan? Never a big fan and last night was no exception. They were lifeless much akin to the giant mechanical rat that plays on the stage at Chuck E. Cheese. Before the show, Mary warned me, "I'm only staying for four songs." Okay by me. The first song was so boring, I said to no one in particular, "Oh this is my favorite" to which the dude next to me started laughing.

At the end of the fourth song, I texted Mary in the seat next to me just to give myself something to do. "Let me know when you want to leave." She responded, "Now!" so we bolted. We felt like ingrates but we did have fun before the band started. Does that count?

Friendship: Having heaps o' fun with someone regardless of one's circumstances. Sweating to death, yet laughing, while serving drunken masses? Check. Dancing in our seats while listening to crappy jazzy jazz hits? Check.

Make tonight a wonderful thing.

My Little Researcher

2011-07-22T05:05:00.000-07:00

The hubby always makes jokes over the phone when I'm headed home about getting the strippers out of the house. Last night, Son #1 was following suit by pretending that daddy really does have hot chicks over in the afternoons. Anything for a laugh in our house.

He then started laughing really hard and said, "Nah, he'd probably rather see you stripping." I responded, "Good Lord, not a chance. What would make you think that?"

"I read a study in Redbook magazine which shows that men fantasize about naked women over 50."

Well, that explains the t-shirt idea. I think it's time to censor the smutty magazines that Grannie brings over! Really, I was just interested in the oh-so-interesting articles about how to make Fast, Delicious, 30 Minute Dinners . . . pinky swear.

Sorry Guys

2011-07-19T09:34:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I bought a t-shirt that read, "My kid is a genius." I wore it to a function at our preschool just to see everyone's reactions in our hyper-competitive town.

Around the same time, my girlfriend was dating a guy who went to Vegas and purchased for her a t-shirt in the hotel gift shop that was black and bejeweled with the acronym MILF. Funny (not to mention thoughtful and flattering) but not really wearable unless you're somewhat egomaniacal.

Today, Son #1 came up with his own concept and called me at work. "I just told dad that I wanted to get you a t-shirt that says, 'Sorry guys. I'm married.'"

What a cutie, right? And it's funny! I think there's a market for that shirt.

Big Audio Dynamite

2011-07-12T12:55:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, the kids were surfing some auditory website and were testing the hubby's and my hearing loss.

Them, "Can you hear this?"

Me, "Are you really playing a sound?"

I discovered that, in addition to all of my other complaints on this blog, my ears are aging, as well. Anything above a certain frequency, I cannot hear. As you may expect with a musician, the hubby's hearing loss is worse.

Now, it's being used as a form of torture. I'll be driving along, minding my own business, when I hear the ever-annoying plea from the back seat, "Cut it out. Stop that. I said cut it out. Mom, make him STOP."

It's Son #1 playing some screeching noises on his iPod just to annoy his brother knowing full well that I can't hear 'em. I need a miracle ear. Maybe, just maybe, in this case, it's better that I can't hear. Otherwise, I need some snake oil.

When all around you seems like hell, just one sip will make you well . . .

I Love Annie

2011-07-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

Son #1 and I went to a retro 50's diner for a cheeseburger the other night. (One word review: Yuck.)

We were just hanging out, waiting for our food when his eyes opened as wide as saucers. "Was Grannie an actress when she was younger?"

I turned to look at the TV screen behind me where "The Lucy Show" was showing. "No, that's Lucille Ball. She's a famous comedian."

"She looks exactly like Grannie!"

He then proceeded to point out every expression. "Did you see that one?!"

I had never noticed the similarities before but he was right. Grannie, who is also really funny (but more sarcastic than silly), missed her calling.

Lucky Four Leaf Clover

2011-07-09T06:56:00.000-07:00

When I was in elementary school, I went to camp one summer at the YMCA with a neighborhood girl whose sister was my sis' best friend. Their mom had just died and somehow she and I were coerced into attending drama camp together. I don't remember much about the acting portion of the camp but I do remember she found a patch of four-leaf clovers and wouldn't tell me where they were. I spent every lunch break outside scouring the hillside for four-leaf clovers to no avail.

To me, they're elusive. Like elves, leprechauns and fairies, I'm not sure they even exist. (Except for the tooth fairy. I know her pretty well.)

A few weeks ago, one of the little girls across the street, B, was bemoaning the fact that the other kids at school always come back from lunch with four-leaf clovers and she can never find any. She shared with me that she spends her lunch break looking and looking.

A kindred soul.

We agreed to walk over to the school playground this summer and together we would find some. Why not? I've been looking for them for over forty years now all alone. It would be good to have some company.

Just last week, my neighbor/girlfriend Ellie posted on Facebook that they have a patch of four-leaf clovers in their yard. I excitedly told B and she began bringing it up in conversation approximately every two minutes. So yesterday, she and I headed over to Ellie's and, alas, couldn't find them. The directions were clear: to the right of the weeping cherry tree. Maybe it's us? As my kids would say, epic fail.

When Ellie got home, she texted me: did you get some? When I responded, "no," she went outside, found one, took a pic and sent it to me. I headed back and Ellie pointed them out to me. And there they were: mixed right in with the three-leaf clovers, same plant, same branch, different clover.

Now I can't wait for B to get home from her grandmother's this weekend! Oh the joy.

This is my four-leaf clover. Can you see it?

Why don't you come over? I'll show you my four leaf clover.

Extreme Makeover: Weight Gain Edition

2011-07-06T05:08:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday morning, I was in the locker room in the gym brushing my hair when Christine, one of my BFF's since childhood, came in. I said, "Hey!" and she, of course (always polite), said "Hi!" and kept walking. I continued, "By the way, I was thinking of going to the lake tonight and thought maybe I could pawn my kids off on you since you're driving down tomorrow." She stopped, turned around and said, "OMG, I didn't recognize you a minute ago."

(Note: She also asked, a moment later when discussing what to bring, "Do you like wine?")

Whaaaat? We've been friends for over 40 years. We see each other all of the time. I found it somewhat incredulous. (Answer: Yes, I like wine.)

On Sunday morning, I was drinking coffee on the front porch of my girlfriend Mary's main cottage and another friend from childhood, Anne (of previous post cigarette fame) with whom I had bunked the night before in the guest house, came over. She then asked me where I was.

Um, right here?

She said, "OMG, I thought you were somebody else." Really? In broad daylight? From a foot away? After having spent the entire night with me?

Later that afternoon, I was coming up the lawn from the lake and both girlfriends were in the hot tub. Anne spotted me and asked Christine, "Who is that walking up the hill?"

Christine felt vindicated. "See?! It's not just me."

Today, I'm sitting in a sausage dress with my buttons almost popping open encased in my own personal hell.

I guess the good news is that apparently no one will know it's me.

Five Finger Fourth Fun

2011-07-05T11:22:00.000-07:00

What a fabulous, wonderful, sunny, awesome weekend spent first with my sis and her hubby on Seneca Lake (thank you!) and next at my girlfriend Mary's house on Keuka Lake. So. Much. Stinkin. Fun.

Tubing. Swimming. Hot tub-ing. Laughing. Over $3K worth of fireworks!

Dinner at the Switz. Clam bake and pig roast the next day. (Did you know that pigs come with their eyes still in their sockets? Did you also know that the eyes don't pop right out -- they require serious hacking, cutting, sawing, pulling? Did you know that my girlfriends puke easily? And they don't like eyeballs thrown at them? I learned a lot this weekend.)

I love, love, love my friends. They're hilarious, wild, smart, crazy, beautiful, genuine and kind. And so are their kids.

Rumor has it that I missed even more fun on the last night as my kids joined us earlier that day and I was worried (rightly so) that it would get out of control so we left at nightfall. Dodged a bullet. Good for them. Sad for me! I began to see it coming when Son #1 saw my girlfriend Anne’s cigarettes and asked her (in a sincerely shocked voice), “You SMOKE?” and she responded, “No! They’re your mom’s.” Thankfully he's quick enough to know when someone is messing with him.

Instead, we celebrated the Fourth with a neighborhood firepit and rum cocktails that I made and the neighbors dubbed the Five Finger Death Punch. We walked over to the soccer field to watch the fireworks from all the surrounding towns and country clubs. The kids then roughed it in a tent in our yard with their iPods.

I want this summer to last forever.

Ding Dong D'oh!

2011-06-30T06:23:00.000-07:00

Last night, the doorbell rang and Son #1 opened the front door.

"What the . . . ?"

He just stood there so I got my lazy bones off the couch to see who was there. No one. Empty front porch. Silence.

I almost closed the door but immediately realized that there were a dozen or more people scattered across our front yard lying motionless. It was like a flash mob but eerily quiet. More like a flash mob that met instant death on our lawn. Dumped from a hovering UFO? Overtaken by sudden, mysterious mushroom cloud? I could see the headlines a la "100K fish found dead in Arkansas river," or "More Than 1,000 Dead Birds Fall From Sky In Arkansas."

12 Teens Found Dead on Local Lawn

A minute after we opened the door, they all jumped up, started hollering and ran down the street. When they were a few doors down, Son #1 yelled something fairly incoherent to them about "You better run" and they all stopped. They gathered into a tight bunch in the middle of the street and stood silently staring at us.

Seriously. What the . . . ?

I stared back for what felt like a really long time (but was probably less than a minute) until they started running away again. They then turned the corner never to be seen again.

It bears repeating: What the . . . ?

Kids these days. Engaging in harmless fun. My the world has changed.

HAGS

2011-06-29T15:11:00.000-07:00

No, we don't have an elevator in our home. No, we don't have a boat. Or a pool.

And now, sleepovers at our house are more boring than at friends' homes. Why? Because other kids have go-kart tracks in their backyards.

Really.

But seriously, thank God for those friends because it really does sound like fun! I want to come!

******

In semi-related news, gone are the days when kids write a nice line or paragraph in each others' yearbooks. Today, it's all boiled down to one acronym: HAGS.

Have a great summer.

Not without a go-kart apparently.

Random Soapbox

2011-06-28T08:37:00.000-07:00

I donated a few months ago to World Vision for disaster relief in Japan. Since then, I have received countless direct mail pieces, thick envelopes chock full of letters and inserts, asking for more money. I feel like a) too soon and b) that can't be cheap. So I sent them a quick email the other day asking, "Is it possible to get on your 'do not contact' list? When I donated recently, it wasn't to fund weekly direct mail pieces to myself soliciting incremental funds."

To their credit, they responded quickly; however, it will take another eight weeks of junk mail headed directly to the recycling bin to do so.

According to Charity Navigator, World Vision scores four stars. In addition, it only spends seven cents on every dollar in fundraising (i.e. over 88% of its budget goes directly to programs and services). That is unbelievably efficient. How is that possible given the number of direct mail pieces that I am receiving? Oh, right. Because they raise over $1.2B (!) in revenue each year. This translates to over $90M in fundraising. That's a lot of fundraising, no?!

In short, I feel significantly less inclined to continue contributing to them now even though I still believe they're a worthy cause. While their efficiency rating is high, I have a lack of trust that my monies are being used wisely.

I wish there was an easy way to set your preferences once, across all organizations, to avoid waste. Just because an organization "owns" my name, doesn't mean I want to hear from them ad nauseam.

Okay. I'm done.

Mount Hope Cemetery

2011-06-27T15:33:00.000-07:00

Today is Monday and I didn't go to work! Repeat: I didn't go to work!

Instead, I went for an early morning walk with my girlfriend Gretchen through Rochester's beautiful, hilly, gothic, moorish Mount Hope Cemetery. We admired the monuments, obelisks, mile high angels, wildly overrun plantation and pea-soupish ponds.

I love the hands on hearts, below, along with the skyward finger point. (Apparently that wasn't originated by hip hop performers and/or football players in the end zone. Who knew?)

We went to see the burial site of suffragette Susan B. Anthony . . .

And the famous abolitionist Frederick Douglass . . .

And, of course, the sites of Gretchen's family and that of my hubby's grandparents (i.e., my kids' great grandparents) Link and Castleman below. It would have been our future grave site, as well, but we declined a few years ago and the MIL sold the plots. D'oh!

Must. Keep. Clam.

2011-06-26T07:29:00.000-07:00

I don't know what it is. My Catholic school edumacation? My mom's propensity to copy edit menus in restaurants? Facebook typos kill me. The occasional error, I get. We live in a fast-paced world and nobody is perfect. Yet I have "friends," and I use the term loosely, who cannot post on FB without an error.

One such friend posts god-awful things about his wife, pictures of hot chicks in bikinis, shout-outs to his business (seriously) and rants about Obama -- all of which contain misspellings. The other day, he wrote a long post that had no errors. My immediate reaction was to clap and say to myself, "You did it!"

His most recent post has a picture of a woman in a thin bra, short-shorts and high heels and reads, "If you voted during the last presidential election to prove that you are not a racist, vote this presidential election to prove your not a moron (I was gonna post a political photo, but lets face it, we (all my male and lesbian friends) would much rather look at an attractive female......."

Exactly: prove that your (sic) not a moron

Anyhoo, if you're a freak like I am, you may really enjoy this little link. A virtual gift from the gods. Shorter and sweeter (and marginally less off-color) than its kissing cousin.

In response, I created this masterpiece with (once again) my mad PowerPoint clip art skillz.

Perfect in My Mind

2011-06-24T10:12:00.000-07:00

No time to blog . . . well, maybe a minute.

At this point in time, after working the past 25 days straight with nary a weekend to myself, I am 99.9% certain that a) there's a jertain in the curtain and b) I have to work this weekend. Methinks me head may explode. However, the kids both have sleepovers tonight which means I may have a date with the hubby. Yikes! Will I be whisked off to Paris for the night? (Fingers crossed.)

Most notably: school's out for summer. Sing along with me.

Son #1 had his "moving up" ceremony this week. Instead of to a deluxe apartment in the sky, he has now officially entered middle school. I never understood the value of a graduation-like ceremony at such a young age but, 1.5 non-billable hours later, I'm glad I went. It was kind of sweet to see all of those cute kids on stage getting their fauxplomas. The eternal slideshow? Fun for the kids; a bit unbearable for the parents--especially those who needed to get back to work. (I think you may know who I mean.) Sentimental pop tunes. Picture after picture of children in everyday settings (e.g., on the playground, playing soccer/lacrosse/whatever) and not-so-everyday settings (e.g., on their family yacht, in Venice/Australia/wherever). It felt touching and inspiring yet somehow elitist and privileged. Damn kids have been more places than I . . .

Both kids got their annual summer haircuts (aka heads shaved). Now they can be nice and cool for summer sports even if they look like they are suffering from radiation poisoning. Son #2 coined the experience, "Long story short."

Son #1 received his class award for "best reader" and "most laid back."

Son #2 was nominated by his teacher for "safety patrol" and received the principal's award for "citizenship." In response to our stating, "wow, you're like a role model," he deadpanned, "yeah, right?!"

Lastly, Son #2 just became a karate green belt.

Love.

Rain Roll In

2011-06-14T06:20:00.000-07:00

This song, from one of my favorite new artists, Eilen Jewell, (who is playing the Rochester International Jazz Fest on Friday night) goes out to my husband's friend Natasha who died last night.

Today is dark and rainy. And sad.

Natasha, we will miss your sweetness. The kindness of your soul. And your milkshakes.

Healing Mass

2011-06-10T11:44:00.000-07:00

I was just searching this blog for my last healing mass story and can't find it. Maybe I never wrote it? Maybe I didn't look hard enough? Maybe it went the way of other disappearing posts?

In short, we took Son #1 to the pediatric neurology clinic at the University of Rochester Medical Center one afternoon a couple of years ago. His Tourette's seemed to be progressing at a rapid pace and our pediatrician recommended a visit.

His symptoms started so slowly, we didn't quite notice for years. If it wasn't for my girlfriend Jacque sharing her daughter's story, and us beginning to put the pieces together, I'm not sure when it would have dawned on us. A weekend of eye blinks. (Eye drops.) An ongoing dry hack. (Allergies. Buy hypoallergenic pillows.) Expectorating. (Yuck! Will you stop that? You're grossing us out.)

Long story short, the day we were in the clinic, he described all of his symptoms to the doctor. And he was off charts behaviorally. Beeping. Snorting. Foot kicks. Hand gestures. Coughing. You name it. The list went on and on. He said that he tries to suppress his ticks in school but they come on full-bore at night when he allows them to. She asked how he knew when a tick was coming on and he likened it to a sneeze: you just know. We were then asked if we wanted to put him on meds but he, and we, declined. Until (or unless) it was bothering him socially, why have a nine year old boy ingest a toxin?

The next night my sister and I took Son #1 to a healing mass at a local Catholic church. After the service, the visiting priest, Father McAlear (who looks a bit like Sean Connery complete with sparkly eyes), laid his healing hands on our heads and said a prayer. Guess what: the entire crazy spectrum of symptoms gone. Completely gone -- for maybe six or nine months at which point they came creeping back but, to this day, have never been as bad as they were a few years ago.

Fast forward to Tuesday night this week. My girlfriends Dawn and Meg were headed to St. Catherine of Sienna in the next town over for another healing mass. Same priest. This year, he was touching people and they were fainting. Literally fainting. It was surreal.

He came to Son #1, chatted for a minute, prayed over him and then said to him, "Do you know what you have to do now?" Son #1 replied, "No, what?" and he responded, "Get a haircut."

Yes Grannie, you have an ally in the Catholic church.

Adopting George

2011-06-05T07:22:00.000-07:00

When we went to the Montgomery County Fair in Texas a couple of months ago, Son #2 wanted to win a giant stuffed banana with dreadlocks. Can you blame him? I let him try a couple of times until it dawned on me that idiot mama (i.e., me) would have to carry that thing through the airport or, worse yet, check it like luggage and pay an extra baggage fee. Nu-uh. Not me. He was crushed.

Fast forward to this past Friday night at our local carnival. The kids and I were casually meandering through the game tents when Son #2 shrieked and took off like a bat out of hell.

Yep, giant bananas (of the hairless variety). He tried to win one, as did Son #1 and I, but none of us won the game. (Hmmm. Odds stacked against us? At a carnival? Shocking.)

Later, we found a game where everyone is a winner. It was simply a giant bucket stationed approximately one foot away. The kids each got a fist-sized ball and threw it in. Unless you’re Michael J. Fox, you cannot lose. Both kids selected plastic, old west, cowboy style pistols with a bag of marble sized bullets. What better to shoot in my car on the drive home?

Needless to say, before leaving, and after many, many games (goodbye college funds), Son #2 looked a bit unhappy. He had to go back and get that banana; it had his name on it. So back we went. And, because everything that kid touches is gold, he won. Even the carnie did a bit of a double-take.

Son #2 immediately grabbed his new giant banana, hugged it and named it George. Then he grabbed his gun, pointed it at the banana’s forehead and said loudly to the watching crowd, “nobody move or I shoot the banana.”

As we walked through the carnival the remainder of the night, Son #2 was flogged by other aspiring banana-owners. “Dude, I spent like $50 trying to win that banana. How did you do it?” Son #2 nonchalantly played it totally cool, “It was easy.” The level of admiration received from other 8-15 year old boys was unreal. I felt like I was hanging with somebody famous.

We have now welcomed a new, highly coveted banana/scratching post into our family.

The ride home. (I hope George is old enough to ride in the front seat. He didn’t come with a birth certificate.)

Reenacting the dramatic hostage crisis in the driveway.

Surprising daddy, Godfather style, upon his arrival home after a late night gig.

And, not to overlook my first and other love, Son #1’s new killer, blowup baseball bat.

The Story

2011-06-04T11:51:00.000-07:00

I would so love to go to CMAC tonight to see the Brandi Carlile, Secret Sisters, Ray LaMontagne show. Yet I would feel more strongly about it if it were warmer out and not raining. Instead, I'll hunker down with the kids and watch my favorite Brandi song on YouTube. Love, love, love her.

Goodbye Food Pyramid

2011-05-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

I just read in the NYT that they're finally doing away with that stoopid food pyramid. Instead, they're unveiling a new rendition on Thursday -- one that is shaped like a plate. (I would argue, in this case, it's a shape more aptly known as a pie chart. Even my fourth grader knows that. Mmmm. Pie. Pie-ramid.)

Anyhoo, to confirm that Michelle Obama and I are once again on the same page, I'm unveiling my personal guide to healthy eating in the form of my very own pie chart. Later this week, we'll see how close I am. Get your wagers ready.

Please note the overlapping foods. I swear it's intentional (i.e., wine pairs well with Fritos) and not just my lack of access to sophisticated tools. (PowerPoint be damned.)

But seriously, who would want a glass of wine when you can have a slice of bread? Right mom?

Memorial Day 2011

2011-05-30T08:24:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to my nephew Tim for his graduation from Brown this weekend! Congratulations to my niece Kira for her graduation from the Tilton School this weekend! Everyone is growing up. And I graduated from college 25 years ago this month. Twenty-friggin-five years. What the . . . ?

With the hope of staving off my wrinkles a little longer (and by "wrinkles" I mean the deep crevices that are mapping my face), I've joined the RoC® Challenge on shespeaks where I apply RoC® RETINOL CORREXION® Deep Wrinkle Night Cream nightly for 12 weeks and chart the difference. I'm on week two and, to date, no difference. What the . . . ?

I'm also officially on a long overdue diet that I'm logging into myfitnesspal. Two weeks into this diet, eating under 1100 calories a day, working out at least 5X/week and (drum roll please), I've gained three pounds. What the . . . ?

Instead of moping around about my wrinkles and lard ass (oh, did I mention that I'm now sporting some gray hair, too?), I've decided to take action. And by "take action" I mean laze around all weekend. So far, I've read the paper. I've relaxed in the hammock while reading magazines. I've watched two of Son #2's baseball games -- and the Pittsford Crew regatta on the canal next to the baseball field all day yesterday. I've gone to church. I've watched the boys have a super soaker fight with their friends. That's it. And that's the extent of my plans. Except the kids are now loaded into the car for go-karts and mini-golf. What the . . . ?

Is it sin to engage in such frivolity when we are supposed to be honoring those who died serving our country today? Or is it a mark of our bountiful freedom that I have the ability to do just as I please today without repercussion? Probably a bit of both.

More than Ordinary Significance

2011-05-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking a lot about the concept of art lately -- maybe because so many of my friends are artists from painters and illustrators to musicians, dancers and tattoo artists.

Art.

So it caught me a little by surprise when meditating on the Lord's Prayer a few weeks ago that the word ART stood out in the first sentence -- transitioning in my mind from a Middle English second person singular conjugation of the verb "to be" to a somewhat verbified (yes, that's what I said) noun. As defined in dictionary.com: the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.

And then I remembered this verse from Isaiah 64:8, "But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand."

More than ordinary significance.

Pretty cool, right? (No need to answer.)

C Jam Blues

2011-05-26T06:18:00.000-07:00

We went to the fifth grade band concert last night to hear Son #1 playing his saxophone in the midst of a sea of instruments. Beautiful sound. Impressive talent for a group of 10-11 year olds who just began playing together this year. Because I'm a ball of emotions and a music lover, I got all teary eyed. The rest of the audience? Not so much.

The kids played everything from a patriotic medley including America the Beautiful to the Star Wars theme. My favorite was the Duke Ellington improv to C Jam Blues. It made me appreciate even more the wonderful education my kids are receiving in the Pittsford School District. We didn't have exposure to such fabulous music at Catholic school when I was a kid unless you count my parents forcing us to watch the Lawrence Welk show every week -- gosh, thanks mom :)

As I watched their teacher, Eva Regan, skillfully conduct all of the moving parts, I wondered if it's intimidating to teach some of these kids whose parents are on the faculty of the Eastman School of Music. (How am I doing folks?) Two of our neighbors alone include a celebrated jazz studies and improvisation professor and an international conductor whose kid is in a band with Son #2. Wanna hear them (meaning the kids)? Stop by our basement any weekend.

What fun.

Becoming Me

2011-05-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

What do Mother Teresa, Jackie O., Chrissie Hynde, Samantha Bee/Amy Sedaris, Mary Tyler Moore, Sydney Ellen Wade, Elizabeth Gilbert and Oprah have in common?

If you figure it out, please let me know.

I've decided that I want to be a combination of all of those people. God-centered. Elegant. Accomplished. Sexy. Gritty. Funny. Smart and successful yet still cute and vulnerable. A talented writer who travels the world and makes millions (!). An entertainer (in my own, small way). Someone who makes the world a better place.

Until then . . .

I Don't Know What to Do with My Life

2011-05-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

I'm desperately trying to figure out what's next in my life as my boss is moving to Colorado. Do I: a) stay here and run the Rochester office or b) accept the fact that 10 years is a long run and move on? If the answer is b), the next question is: move on to what?

Thank God I have a customized CareerBuilder feed to help me answer these life-altering questions and point me in the right direction.

Bad Idea

2011-05-20T11:16:00.000-07:00

Me: We should really update our website to look more current, better reflect our brand and bump us higher in the search engine rankings.

My boss: Why? Do you think we need more work?

Good point.

I'll Stand by You

2011-05-18T07:49:00.000-07:00

My mother-in-law was ill yesterday and cancelled our dinner plans so I went to Rocco again with my girlfriends. We ate dinner at the bar and laughed our heads off for hours. Would have loved to have seen the MIL but the change of plans turned out well, too.

Unfortunately, I came home to find Son #2 suffering with yet another stomach ache. He has had this illness for weeks -- at least since feeling sick at my sister's house on Easter. Maybe before. He's fine one minute; sick the next. Full of color and then as pale as a ghost. On Saturday, I took him to the docs because he was having stomach pains and I didn't want to wait and later take him to the emergency room. Thankfully it wasn't appendicitis but what was, or is, it? Worrisome. When he's sick, he needs coddling. He needs someone hugging him as he falls asleep. He needs someone sitting on the bathroom floor with him as he hovers over the toilet waiting to puke. Last night, after sitting on the bathroom floor for over an hour around 1:00 a.m., I dragged my pillow and comforter in to at least be comfortable. He fell asleep on me and together we spent a few hours napping on the bathroom floor. That's love. This morning, we went and had his blood work taken. So NOT cool to stick a needle in the arm of a nine year old boy and draw three vials of blood. To put it politely, he did not handle it well. The nurse, however, did. The poor thing. I just pray that it's some passing illness that just happens to be lingering. Nothing more.

His brother is another story. Somehow, in the course of a conversation with Son #1 as I was hugging him goodnight, we began chatting about his Tourette's disease and he asked what ADHD and OCD were. As I told him, you could see the proverbial light bulb turn on. Brighter than bright. What ensued was a hilarious, if not tragic, mad rush around the house as he showed me how he has to touch the two bumps on the bottom of the bannister, gently glide his fingers along the wall as he walks up the steps, trace the rail at the top of the stairs all the way as it curves back toward the wall, etc. And if he doesn't? Or, worse yet, if the rest of us don't (which, of course, we don't)? "It drives me crazy! I lie in bed for like four hours freaking out but there's nothing I can do about it. It's too late. I can't fall asleep." Sadly, it explains a lot.

Welcome to this crazy train called parenting. Sickness aside, I wouldn't have it any other way.