The Earthquake Button - cont.

We asked...

Turns out, the "earthquake button" isn't a button that YOU push, it's an alarm that goes off inside the elevator if there is an earthquake (as if you wouldn't know the earth was moving). Apparently, the earthquake button begins flashing and a 'calm voice' comes over the PA inside the elevator to direct you to safety. I do not know where that safety is located, as you're currently enclosed in a steel box that is suspended inside a building, but the point is to keep you calm, and provide assurance that help is on the way.

In the event the building's electricity is working properly, the elevator doors will open (after the earthquake has ended) and you will be directed to the nearest floor. This could mean you will have to crawl out of an elevator to the nearest floor. Or, you may have to jump up to get to the nearest floor's ledge once the elevator door is opened, but the 'calm voice' will tell you which way to go.

For what it's worth, I'd still rather have the 'earthquake min-bar'.

The Earthquake Button

Day 1 in San Francisco and I've learned a few things:

1. The homeless people in San Fran have more personal items than most non-homeless people.
2. San Fran is very pro-Obama; very anti-Palin; very indifferent on McCain.
3. Most buildings in the Financial District are built on 'rollers' so that in the event of an earthquake, the buildings can 'sway' with the movement, instead of 'snap in two and crumble to the ground' (as so eloquently explained by one of our business hosts).
4. Bridges are beautiful. The food is amazing. The air is clean, save for the smog that settles over the city throughout the day.
   
5. Each elevator comes with an "Earthquake" button, so in the event you're stuck in an elevator during an earthquake, you can ... um... hit a button?
   

Let's talk more about the earthquake button, for a moment. You're in an elevator. It starts to shake. It stops. You panic, and then you realize that vibration was nothing euphoric, and you've just been in an earthquake. You're in a closed space - suspended by cables likely compromised due to the recent shift in the earth's floor - and you're going to push a fucking button? And then what happens?

Unless that button is going to eject me from the elevator and land me safely on the ground, I'd prefer there be an earthquake mini bar in the elevator, or an earthquake 'you're-the-last-people-on-earth' box with candles and chocolate. If I'm going to be stuck in the elevator during an earthquake for some time, the earthquake button might as well be a useful survival tool.

Copake Falls

A calm weekend in the country and suddenly life seems manageable...

Life

Peace

Fate

Serenity

Journey

Unknown

Hope

(photos courtesy of me, taken from my hike in Copake Falls)

Bummer-Free Zone

You can travel the world, explore hundreds of locations, meet thousands of people and experience millions of life-changing moments. But at the end of the day, there is only one "bummer-free" zone.

Happy weekend, everyone!

The $150,000 Wardrobe

While standing in the office today, my co-worker and friend The Missus turned and said to me, "You cannot wear those jeans." And so, we decided to go shopping after work. Unfortunately, we didn't do very well. I tried on at least a dozen pairs of jeans and none of them worked. We finally agreed, maybe I wasn't a "jeans" gal. Maybe I should stick with my dress pants and rock 'em the best way I can. But jeans, not so much. 

If I had extra money, or maybe I was the vice presidential nominee, I would have a $150,000 to spend on clothes and pay for a personal shopper to dress me. I don't have that kind of spending cash, but if I did, I can assure you it wouldn't be spent on clothes. Which brings up a new topic of conversation... 

In the midst of a financial crisis, if you were running for an office that helps balance the budget of the U.S. economy, would you spend $150,000 on clothes? (Cast your vote on the poll to the right.)

Only a Good Friend...

... would look at you and say honestly, "You can never wear those jeans again."

Update to come later tonight after my friend The Missus goes jeans shopping with me.

Quote of the Day

"Life's too short to drink bad wine."

-JW, Frogger's friend in Chicago.

Good Morning, Wednesday!

From the bedroom...

Today was the first day in four days I haven't woken at 1:37 a.m. Today, I am functioning on a solid four hours. Thank you, bed.

It's amazing what a few extra hours will do the body. Even though it was raining on my walk to work, and my umbrella flipped upside down, and I almost tripped on a pothole, and I spilled some essential morning coffee, there was a little skip in my step.

I think I can... I think I can...I think I can...

At 33,000 Feet

The last time I was at an airport, I ended up in a corner near Gate 30 attempting to breathe through my first-ever panic attack. I leave for San Francisco next week and the thought of flying isn't a concern. In fact, it's the tranquility when my day gets chaotic.

There's something serene about being 33,000 feet in the air. Near the clouds. Away from the worries on the ground. 

(Shocking) Quote of the Day

In the meditation session tonight, The Coach reminded me that while breathing is important, and reciting my mantra will help calm the mind, it's important to remember that walls do exist and it's important to acknowledge those barriers in order to break through. 

“You can't change what you don't acknowledge.”

She said, and then gave acknowledgement to Dr. Phil, who coined the phrase (which is why it's shocking, because I think a lot of what he says is bologna).

Quote of the Weekend

I promised myself a weekend to "me" and that's just what I got. I took myself to the movies, watched brain-numbing TV, made a nice dinner, went for a 4-mile run and indulged in my favorite Boston brunch with a friend. I feel rested and somewhat renewed. The world can be complicated, but if you call a time-out it's a little more manageable.

"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles."

-Charlie Chaplin

My Thoughts on My Vote

Last night was the final debate before America chooses its next president. As with the other debates, I've listened, intently, to what each candidate has to say. I'm pretty confident in my vote, but I will be the first to admit there are things I don't know and it's nice to hear what the future leader of our country has to say about those things.

Yes, I know it's politics. I covered politics - I know how to play this game. I side with the majority of America when I say this election is different. We need hope - strength - survival. But at some point I have to draw the line. Last night, I drew my line. People are so busy reporting whether or not McCain's delivery was "solid" that they didn't actually stop to listen to what he had to say.

McCain called Obama a guy who "pals around with terrorists." Obama called McCain, "ignorant to the needs of average Americans." But when asked about health care and Roe v. Wade, specifically, McCain firmly said, "I do not agree with Roe v. Wade." And at that moment, I bolded my line.


I would choose not to vote, or vote for a guy who once sat at the same table as another guy who was once involved in some form of violent platform before I turned over my reproductive rights over to the government.

Meditation Coach: Day 1

I came, I saw, I breathed, I drank.

I had my first meditation session with "the coach". Upon walking into her office, we had the usual greeting.

"How is your day?"
"Fine," I said. "And yours?"
"Oh nice - it's so beautiful outside!"
"Yes, it is. I love Fall."
"So, how have you been since we met last week?"

- PAUSE -

"Um, well, to be honest... I've found I'm very angry and the situation, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get, and the angrier I get, the less I breathe."

- PAUSE - TEARS - GASP FOR BREATH

"Ok, so it seems we found the source of the problem, but that's probably not news to you. It was simply a matter of you just realizing it and now that you have, let's work through it. Close your eyes."

And so I sat there, eyes closed, and waited. She started counting, "One...two...three. One...two...three...One...two...three..." Slowly, I found myself breathing in time with her counting. Inhale for three, exhale for three, breathe in... breathe out...

"Good," she said. "This is positive breathing. This is what you need to remember when you start to feel anxious. Count in threes and breathe."

Suddenly, I started feeling better. Clearer. Like the blockage on my lungs that prevented me from inhaling a good grasp of air had been lifted.

"I want to try something today. It's a word association game - keep your eyes closed."

I just wanted to lay down and sleep, now that I had my breathing back.

"I'm going to say a word and I want you to just say the first word that comes to mind. This will just help us identify what words we associate with anxiety, stress, and panic, and what words we find calming and peaceful."

Ok, I thought, I'm ready. I am, after all, a writer. Words are my meaning, my life. Bring on the words, Meditation Lady.

"Escape," was the first word. I replied, "Farm."
"Fun" --> "Travel"
"Run" --> "Gym"
"Evil" --> "Hijackers"
"Heart" --> "Sister"
"Dream" --> "Paris"
"Boss" --> "Buzz"
"Decadence" -->"Chocolate fountain"
"Food" --> "Kate" (I was leaving meditation and going for dinner with Kate, so that was top of mind)
"Peace" --> "Shalom"
"Calm" --> "Vodka martini"

I Should... Sing

I should scream and yell at people. 

I should beat some people over the head until they bleed. 

I should show some people the error of their ways and shake them until they see reality. 

I should not let my blood pressure get too high.

I thank G-d for red wine.

But I'm refraining from getting mad. My meditation counselor might tell me tomorrow that this is not the right method of dealing with my frustrations, but today, I refrain.

And so I sing... the lyrics of the day... which are not mean, angry or vulgar. Instead I'll try a happy tune that sort of sends the same message. Sing along, if you like:

"I'd like to build the world a home
And furnish it with love
Grow apple trees and honey bees
And snow-white turtle doves

I'd like to teach the world to sing
In perfect harmony
I'd like to hold it in my arms
And keep it company."

I do not feel like running through poppy fields, yet. Maybe if I sing the chorus a few more times (and down some more Tinto from Portugal) I will feel better.

Quote of the Day

"It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics
To set you on your feet again"

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Elton John

Dear Sarah Palin, What Are You Talking About?

I bring you this little bit of brilliance from the mouth of VP-hopeful Sarah Palin. File this under another reason why Sarah Palin is not qualified to lead this country.

Location: Lacrosse, Wis.

Scene: Town Hall Meeting with voters. One woman asked about hate-crime legislation, specifically The Matthew Shepard Act, which would expand the definition of hate crimes to include gender and sexuality. This act is currently is pending in Congress.

McCain deferred to Palin, and this is what she said (courtesy of the Washington Wire):

"Oh yeah, and the first thought that pops into my head also when you’re talking about rights and you’re talking about freedoms, is we’re talking about Sen. John McCain and what he has done for our country and putting his country first his entire life to fight for freedoms." she said to applause.

She continued: "And Wisconsin, here again, kudos to you, your great Wisconsin guard. About a third of your troops will be over in a war zone in a number of months, in ’09, you guys are going to be over there, helping to defend freedom and defend liberty and the Democratic values that we all cherish so much, again something that Sen. John McCain has dedicated his entire life to. Thank you to Wisconsin for sending your guard over there to protect all the rest of the nation, thank you."

Huh? What? Those are all the words I have in response to this horrific display of stupidity.

The Market is Down; My Workout is Up

I started my morning at 6:30. I found my way to the gym in a haze of uncaffeinatation, got on the treadmill and starting running. And running... and running. Before I knew it, I was 5.5 miles into "Good Morning, America".

News of the morning: The market is down, mortgages are folding, people are losing their jobs and their homes, the weather looks nice this weekend, a man was arrested after an attempted kidnap of a 6-year-old boy, and 'that one' is being accused of befriending terrorists while the 'other one' is trying to find his way out of the camera's shot.

The country is literally falling apart, I thought, as I upped the speed on the treadmill.

Finally, 7:30 a.m. and it's time to meet my trainer. We hit the benches. I was bench pressing the weight of my stress, and it felt great. An hour later I hit the showers, put on my face and walked up to the front desk to turn in my locker key and get my gym pass back. To my surprise and elation, the front desk attendant had a large cup of coffee waiting for me.

"There was enough [coffee] left for one large cup," he said as he handed me the cup.

Amazing how the world can seem a little calmer with a large cup of coffee, a good workout, and a friendly gesture.

Waiting... and Waiting... for My Money

It's 9:33 p.m. 

I've been on hold with my investment bank for 43 minutes. Mike came on the line and asked how he could help me.

"Hi Mike. I'd like to move my money into a cash reserves fund for the short-term."

"Sure. My role is an account maintenance professional and I can help answer questions about your account, but I will have to transfer you to a fund trader to manage your transaction."

"Ok, Mike. Thanks. Any chance you have a friend who is a fund trader who might owe you a favor so I don't have to wait another 45 minutes?" 

Mike said he does not. I don't believe Mike, but I'm cutting him some slack as I'm quite sure that he's been very busy tonight. 

It is now 9:38 p.m. and I am still waiting for the trader. Kudos to the investment bank, though, for having nice, calming background music. It's not distracting me from "Grey's Anatomy."

******

10:03 p.m. and Carl has just come on the phone to help me. Nice guy, this Carl - he and went so far as to say, "Let's do this together online so you know how to do this in the future if you want to make any changes, and then you won't have to wait on hold."

Carl and I walked through my account online, he showed me where my money is and what's left of what I had, and then showed me how to move it to cash. Thank you, Carl, for being so helpful and explaining this to me. 

It might shock you all to know that I have a bachelor's of science in finance, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to navigate an online trading site.

Tickets for the Day of Atonement

Today is Yom Kippur, the day of Atonement, and the day where Jews congregate at temple for a day of fasting and forgiveness. I don't attend temple on the high holidays because I have a fundamental issue with paying to pray. However, I honor my Jewish heritage and religion throughout the year and I feel good about what I do, so if I don't pay $200-ish to attend high holiday services, I'm quite certain G-d will forgive me.

Of course, if I could get a deal on high holiday tickets I might consider making an appearance...

(warning... adult content)



Video courtesy of HBO Productions

If You're Going to San Francisco...

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair...

I'm heading west at the end of the month for work -- I've never been to San Francisco but I hear I'm about to fall in love.

"All across the nation such a strange vibration

People in motion

There's a whole generation with a new explanation

People in motion people in motion"

-Scott McKenzie; Lyrics - San Francisco

Before There Was Email...

What did we do before email? Does anyone remember how we communicated before email?

I was blessed with a new work computer yesterday - it's faster, it's more powerful, and it doesn't crash when I open more than two files while logged onto the Internet. Unfortunately, it does not like my email server. It won't open Outlook, denies me access to my folders and prevents me from communicating with the powers-that-be in London who have been in the office for five hours now and are clearly able to access their email.

Yes, I should have saved the powerpoint presentation to a hard drive so I didn't have to rely on email to view it. Yes, I should have saved the most recent version of the guide I'm editing to my hard drive, so I didn't have to rely on email this morning. Yes, I should have logged off the computer and then logged back on yesterday when the tech guy was sitting here to make sure I could get into all my accounts.

But I didn't. And now, I'm without email and left wondering... what is the rest of the world doing?

Google Doesn't Let Friends Email Drunk

You've done it. You know you've done it. You come home after a few too many drinks and you get online and start responding to emails. You forget to spellcheck. You confess your love to someone you don't really love. You say harsh words to the date who scorned you or you send a regretful email to your boss that results in you frantically trying to figure out how to recall the message from drunk cyberspace. I'm thankful I've rarely done this, but I won't pretend it's never happened. 

Most of the time, however, I open up the email under the assumption I'm sober and then as I'm reading the email all the words slowly meshing together inonebigwordandallofsuddenmyheadhurtsandihavenoideawhattheemailimreadingactuallysays...

so I end up logging off and passing out. But, for those emails I've actually responded to - and on behalf of my friends (Ahem... ) - I say, thank G-d for Google.

The great minds at Google have developed a new technology called "Mail Goggles" (get it? Beer goggles. Mail goggles.) According to a report from MSNBC, "The Goggles can kick in late at night on weekends. The feature requires you to solve a few easy math problems in short order before hitting "send." A sure to move to prevent you from doing something you'll regret.

If you have Gmail, you can install the beta version of "Mail Goggles" and potentially save yourself from a morning of regret. And, if I forget to say it tomorrow morning (or any other morning), "Thank you, Google."

The Debate: Inside the Town Hall

For starters, Tom Brokaw gave me -- the viewer at home -- the OK to yell back at the TV, which is not a luxury given to the audience at Belmont University so right there I'm happy with how we're starting.

I'm not sure how McCain thinks energy independence is going to fix the retirement funds for veterans...

I don't know if McCain knows the question that was just asked of him.

Kudos to McCain, however, who keeps addressing "Alan" -- the man who asked the first question -- by his first name. Keeps it personal. 

----------------

Next question from Oliver: Through the bailout package, what is this package going to do to help these people out?

McCain: It's not a bailout, it's a rescue. Stabilize the markets but it's not going to be enough. Will need to enter the housing market and buy out these loans. Fannie and Freddie were the catalyst to this issue...

Obama: The biggest problem was the deregulation of the financial system. It's going to be important to work with homeowners to make sure they can stay in their home...

-----------------

Brokaw asked, "Do you think the economy is going to get worse before it gets better?"

Great question. Both senators said the economy will rebound. What do you think?

Tuesday Debate: The Prequel

Tonight is Debate #2: Senators Obama and McCain will meet face-to-face in a debate about domestic policies. A few immediate thoughts as we wait for the senators to address each other:

• Will McCain look at Obama during this debate?
  
• Will Obama use his "people skills" to debate this time, or will he rely on his note cards like last time?
  
• How many cigarettes do you think Obama smoked before the debate?
  
• How many times do you think McCain asked, "What's the debate about tonight?" 

Based on the polls from this week, McCain has a lot of work to do tonight.

Back in about an hour and a half to report initial thoughts...

The Fine Art of Meditation

Today I had my first session with my "meditation counselor." This is a fancy word for "stress therapist", I think, but I'm going with it - I believe you can be whatever you want on your business card, as long as you prove successful in what the business card says. 

Why am I going? Well, those who read my blog regularly know that stress has slowly crept its way into my world over the years and all of a sudden BAM! -- it exploded. I've always been able to manage stress well and I'm a master at the art of multi-tasking, but what I didn't expect was the unfortunate incident last week:

I was at the airport, waiting to board a plane to Fort Myers and all of sudden it hit me. Panic. I've never been afraid to fly, but all of a sudden things went blurry, I couldn't catch my breath, I was dizzy and feeling sick to my stomach, and then I burst into tears in the airport outside gate C31 at Logan International Airport. Why? How? What? I found a quiet corner, counted to 100 and calmed myself down enough to get on a plane. The flight was fine. I was fine. But what the hell was that?

My doctor suggested I had a panic attack and I said, "That's ridiculous. I've never had a panic attack before and I don't think I'm any more stressed than anyone else." That very well may be, but my body seemed to reject the stress-of-the-day last Saturday and the result was 10-minutes of sheer terror and inner-chaos. I agreed to see a "meditation counselor" and learn how to the uncontrollable.

She was pleasant, easy to talk to, and said two important things to me:

1. You seem very grounded and have a firm grasp on reality.

2. You do not need to take the elevator, the stairs are open during my office hours.

We are meeting next week to practice breathing exercises. In the meantime, my homework assignment is to come up with my "happy place." 

Monday Morning...

"Six o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream
I was kissin' Valentino
By a crystal blue Italian stream"

-The Bangles, "Manic Monday" (or, as my sister used to call it, "Man Named Monday")

Maine: Vacationland; Relaxationland

I've always been told I don't take enough time to stop and smell the roses. I usually get through each day on a well-planned and highly congested schedule that is booked minute-by-minute and has very little wiggle room for alterations or last-minute changes. But this weekend, I stopped to smell the roses.

After a mini-breakdown on Thursday night, which resulted in tears usually reserved for Friday board room meetings and cheesy unrealistic-but-I-wish-they-came-true movies, I packed my overnight bag and hit 95-N for an overnight with the Portugal gals. 

We made it record time - just over one hour. Within seconds of entering the front door, I had a glass of wine in hand and a perfect spot near the fire. There was laughter, pictures and more wine. The next morning, after a few hours of sleep and a few more tears, I opened the front door and took a deep breath of the fresh air, then exhaled as if the world depended on it. To most of the country, Maine is known as "Vacationland"; to me, the state is a quite retreat and a forceful relaxation that if nothing else, reminds me to just breathe.

(Cape Porpoise, Maine)

Lyrics of the Day

"In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone"

-Simon & Garfunkle, Sounds of Silence

The Debate Spirit

Bring it...

(c)Donkey Doo Designs.

(...and if you want this on a t-shirt, mug, button or bumper sticker, click here)

My Declaration to Cole Haan

It has been rumored that I am a Cole Haan Whore. Today, I formally declare the rumor to be true.

I have the Cole Haan Village Collection bag in brown and a few Cole Haan scarves, shoes and clutches. My friend The Missus once called me a Cole Haan whore when I walked into work with a new beige bag (which I ended up returning due to a fabric flaw I found after the purchase). I refuted the accusation. For starters, I do not purchase retail Cole Haan (I usually buy outlet or second-hand items) and for another thing, I am no one's whore... not even Mr. Haan's. I was in denial. But today, that all changed for the most beautiful bag in the world arrived on my desk from one very beautiful woman -- my Mom. It was a surprise gift and one my Mom knew I would adore. I've been eyeing this bag for sometime and walking away from it for various reasons; mostly because it's money better saved than spent.

It's time to admit I have a Cole Haan addiction. I walk into the Cole Haan retail store on Newbury Street for a fix -- the smell of the leather, the feel of the shoes on my feet, the new trends and the stylish accessories give me goosebumps. I rarely buy, but I always look.

As I sit here, my new bag in my lap carefully protected in its dustbag while I type away about far away destinations, I turned to my friend The Missus (who sits the next row over from me)and admitted the following:

"You've said in the past I'm a Cole Haan whore and I've argued with you. Today, I formally declare that I am a Cole Haan whore -- and I am proud of it. I am in love with my new bag."

MFTM has taught me a lot about fashion over the past year. We come from very different styles - she's more bohemian chic; I lean toward classic - but she's taught me to enjoy and embrace what I love and what looks good on me. Her husband cringes when make plans to shop; my bank takes out more insurance. Rarely do we buy the same things because our tastes are so different, but every once in a while there is an overlap. Today, we both paid homage to Cole Haan when she said, "I am in love with your new bag, too."

Side note: In what is a clearly a sign that the bag was meant for me, the color is aptly named "Pinot Noir."

Quote of the Day

"Eighty percent of success is showing up."

--Woody Allen