On Vacation: Day 2

I am off of work - or at least, off of the office - until Jan. 5. I have one week to finish off this year - and what a year it's been.

Today, I woke up to grey skies and raindrops. I made a cup of coffee, checked email, balanced my checkbook and organized my bills. BFF called - she's in NYC with her in-laws (who are from France) and just left Stage Deli - one of my favorites. I miss New York - can't wait to go in a few weeks.

Flipping through the channels, I tuned into the original, "Annie" - a classic. I love Albert Finney.

The movie ended and I opted for a run. I don't mind running in the rain - the streets are clearer and so is my mind. I ran 2.3 miles and came home. Well, I walked half of that distance, but made an effort to run the hills and walk the flats.

Home, with dye on my hair. I refuse to go into 2009 with greys. Meeting my friend Undercover Blonde for cocktails at 5pm.

Time to wash the dye out.

Playlist: Snowed In

When you're stuck indoors...the Sunday "Snowed In" playlist.

December

Dear Diary,

Today is the first day of December, and the first month I feel carefree. My major deadlines are complete, work is steady (at least today) and I'm taking vacation time this month. I have no travel plans, but who knows where the wind will blow...

I pledge to do the following:

• Go to the gym at least 4-5 times a week.
• Eat healthy.
• Curb the drinking, which I realize will be hard to do as it's holiday time, but I will attempt to keep alcohol out of the apartment.
• Attempt to keep order in the office.
• Rent one good movie a week.
• Maybe go on a date.
  
• Practice meditation.
• Work on the book. Work on the book. Work on the book.

Here's to December.

The Starbucks Effect

I'm working on a report due the moment I walk in the office Monday morning. I've spent the past few months working on this in hopes it delivers exactly what we need: notoriety. In working on this report, I've spent countless hours on phone interviews, email chats with analysts overseas and online researching stats and forecasts. Today I devoted all day to completing this report. My reward: window shopping at the Natick Collection tomorrow. I'm a firm believer in window shopping - no need to purchase; a little imagination goes a long way.

In order to stay true to my deadline, I needed a change of scenery. I've worked on this report in the office and in the apartment and everything is just stale. This morning, I bundled up, grabbed my laptop and walked to Starbucks. I grabbed the first table near an outlet, spread out my paper work and powered up the HP. I ordered my grande Pike Place, got my 10 percent off thanks to my Starbucks Gold Card, and started writing.

Louie Armstrong is blowing his horn over the sound system. It's the holidays, and everything from the paper cups to the tracks spinning on the Starbucks stereo system says so.

The lines come and go, and Jenna behind the counter comes out to check on me every so often.

"You doing OK? Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, I'm OK... just plugging away."

"That man would like to buy you a coffee," she says, and points to a white-haired and wrinkled older gentleman who I've seen around the neighborhood. He's a friend of my landlord's; I believe his name is Gus.

"Thanks," I say, and wink in Gus' direction.

The place is filling up again. Starbucks seems like everyone's retreat. Here, there doesn't seem to be a recession - at least not one that a good cappuccino or a salted hot chocolate can't fix.

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)

Living La Vida Oscar on Election Night

This is a historic election year and as such, I'm treating November 4 as my own personal Oscar night. A little history:

A a past political reporter, you can say I'm "addicted" to this time of year. It only happens every four years so I allow myself the freedom to act like a complete asshole. I pace, I drink, I yell at the TV, I scream at the states that aren't "called" yet -- it's my own personal Superbowl. My friends Bail and the Missus wanted to have a nice dinner on election night and ease into the results. Unfortunately, that simply doesn't work for me. I need room to move... I need space to breathe. I cannot be tied down to one area. So MFTM threw out a suggestion last Friday night while we consumed after-work cocktails, "Let's rent out a suite, order a ton of room service and get drunk while Frogger paces the room."  

Actually, it's not a bad idea. I found a hotel in the city that has a concierge level, and a 24-hour lounge complete with a bar and late-night snacks. I called the concierge at the hotel today to make sure the rate I found was legit (because the hotel is one of the swankier ones in the city) and Isaac, the "Tower Manager", assured me he would take great care of my needs on Nov. 4. Oh, Isaac... you poor fool.

So I booked, and here is my plan:

• Leave the office at 3 p.m. and go for a workout. I've already alerted my coworkers and managers that I'll need space during the hours of noon on Nov. 4 through Nov. 5. 
  
• Check-in to hotel and depending on where the results are for the day, take a nap.
  
• Wake in time for appetizers on the 15th floor lounge and a pre-election drink with friends.
  
• Give room service menu to MFTM and Bail and tell them to just "keep it coming" while I find a comfortable spot in the lounge to stake out of the night.
  
• Possibly order an in-lounge pedicure from the hotel spa.
• Let the night move on with my personal bartender, personal concierge and close friends who are brave enough to stick out this night with me.

There will be tears, laughter, and a lot of nervous energy. And that's just on my part. But I'm feeling good about not being alone on election night, because if things go terribly wrong, I'll need a shoulder to cry on (and friends who will keep me from fleeing to the airport and escaping to another country).

Simple Living: Apple Picking

If a bit of serenity is what you crave, head out of town and go apple and/or pumpkin at Russell Orchards in Ipswich, Mass. 

There are few things as American as hayrides and apple-picking. It's been years since I've donned my ripped jeans, old t-shirt and ratty tennis shoes

 for a 45-minute drive from Boston to the Ipswich orchards. 

Russell Orchards is open May through November. The farm stand features homemade donuts, pesto and fruit wines. A walk through the animal farm lets children pet everything from ponies to pigs, and the friendliest of the lot is always the calm goat herd. The family cat Popcorn rests easily on the haystack outside the farm store.

Hundreds of families had the same idea on this crisp Sunday. No matter... everyone is here for one thing: a little simple pleasure before the complicated Monday inevitably begins.

Top 10 Songs for Friday

(A special Friday, too.) Instead of writing about my explorations today, I will sum them up with a playlist - in no particular order, here are my top tunes for this Friday, Aug. 29, 2008.

Happy Friday!

Three Days Until Friday

Friday, I'm in love.

Poetry: The Road Not Taken

In search of a happy place, I found my favorite poem, and that has made all the difference in my day. Some believe this is actually a depressing tale of failure and grief, but I read this poem as hope and justification for the decisions I've made and the possibilities that are yet to be discovered.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler long I stood
And looked down as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a road - and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

Birthday Countdown Begins in Two Days

It's my favorite time of year. My birthday festivities are starting a week early this year, but that's OK by me - gives me an extra week to celebrate.

First up: Annual birthday dinner with TJ -- we share the same birthday week and for the past five years, we've celebrated by choosing one restaurant we want to splurge on and book ourselves a table. This year we're heading to Grotto -- an Italian restaurant in Beacon Hill.

One week before actual birthday: Birthday dinner with Boston family group 1. Since my birthday actually falls on Labor Day weekend and I am sensitive to the fact that many people will be traveling, I've moved my birthday dinner back a week so that all my dear ones can be around the table. This particular dinner is ultra-special...

Not only will I have my Boston immediate family around me, but we're celebrating with the power of numerology (which my friend Jane says is an awesome way to begin your year). I am turning 33, we are dining at 33 Restaurant, and it's Restaurant Week so all the 3-course dinners are $33. (I hope the staff at 33 aren't rude and pushy, because that would totally ruin my birthday numerology vibe).


6-days before birthday: Two-hour meditation, yoga and pilates class at the gym. Great way to "cleanse" as the big 33 approaches.

Birthday Day: NO WORK. I take this day as a holiday from work.

• 1 p.m. - personal training session.
• 3 p.m. - massage
• 5 p.m. - hair cut/color
• 7 p.m. - dinner with Boston family group 2. My co-workers and travel gals are taking me to "OM".

I leave the next morning for Florida to spend my birthday weekend with my family -- Dad, Mom and sis -- something I haven't done in years. It's already feeling like a very special year.

Go Forth on Friday

It's finally here - the end of the week.
So far, my last-day-of-the-work-week-from-hell has started off well.

I put on a pair of jeans this morning and found they are a little big in the booty (guess the gym is actually paying off).

I was going to treat myself to a fattening breakfast, but when I arrived at my favorite breakfast-lunch place in downtown, I learned they are now making egg white and cheese sandwiches. I was uber-excited and good news: They are excellent!

Tonight I have concert tix with some girlfriends -- Crosby, Stills & Nash. You can't get more mellow, really. I intend to sit back with a beer and groove to CSN... and breathe.

Simple Pleasures...

A new hair color.
A head massage at the salon.
People Magazine.
A phone call from an old friend.
Booking your birthday dinner with friends.
Getting on the scale and missing five pounds.
A rainy night and a cool breeze through the living room windows.
"Moonlight and Valentino" on DVD.

Wednesday is better... two more days until Friday.

Quote of the Day (Maybe the Year)

I treated myself the Tina Fey/Amy Poehler movie, "Baby Mama" this weekend. A great simple pleasure: dark room, big tub of popcorn, good movie.

If you haven't seen the flick, it's worth the price of a movie. Tina Fey is a comic genius and the on-screen chemistry between Fey and Poehler is obvious and hilarious. But what's most compelling about this film is its reality. It's funny, no doubt, but it also tells the story of a very real woman:



She's in her 30s, she's focused on her career, she's more likely to get a promotion than a boyfriend, and she's looking for love.

But the quote of day belongs to Holland Taylor, who plays Kate's (Tina Fey) mother in the movie.

The scene:

Family dinner. Single Kate, married sister Caroline (played by Maura Tierney) and her husband and kids in toe. Kate starts talking about the problems she's having conceiving in-vitro, and both Mom and sister try convincing her that a successful career might just be the "baby" in Kate's life. Kate refuses to hear it and discusses the idea of hiring a surrogate. Aghast at the idea and not one to have to explain the situation to her friends, Mom (Taylor) replies,

"We've all been very supportive of your alternative lifestyle, Kate." And Kate replies (QUOTE OF THE DAY), "Being single is not an alternative lifestyle, Mom!"

Amen, Tina Fey!

Starting Over: The Right Size

This weekend was my "Spring Cleaning" weekend. A little late, I know, but it's the first weekend I haven't been travelling so I embraced the idea of a good cleaning. After reading MFTM's blog about her new summer clothes, I was inspired to take the Spring Cleaning to my closet.

It's a somewhat bittersweet task.

Over the past year, I've gained some unfortunate pounds around places I didn't know pounds could exist. Part of this has to with getting older, part of it is due to laziness, and part of it is due to the cardiologist. Last March, I was banned from the gym while the doctors figured out what was wrong with my heart, and how to fix it. After about 4 months, and various pill cocktails, things got under control. One pill a day to settle the arrhythmia -- back to the gym. But after 4 months out, it's not so easy to get back in. Obviously, I gained weight and sadly I haven't taken it all off. Enter today: the opening of the closet.

Everything from a size 4 to a size 10 lives in closet, smooshed together as if by osmosis they might become one size that fits me. Alas, the fabrics have not meshed to create the perfect wardrobe and so it's time to start cleaning.

After my recent Europe travels, I've adopted a European way of the wardrobe -- staples. Just a few pieces here and there that go with everything. A few tops, a few pants, a few skirts, a few casual pieces and mix-and-match. More importantly, I've opened my eyes to my size. As one friend put it,

"Why keep clothes in the closet that don't fit? Get rid of them all, that way when you open your closet in the morning to get dressed you know everything in there fits. It's a much better way to start the day."

So true. Knowing your clothes fit -- no matter what your size -- does wonders for the mind. So does a new hair color... the red streaks are back and brighter than ever.

BON JOVI!!! Bon JO-VI! Bon Jovi.

My Friday is complete. My Bon Jovi is coming to concert.

Don't make fun -- you know you have a dirty little fascination with something from the 80s, too.

Tickets aren't on sale, yet. They will be, though. And I will be there when they go on sale. Fighting the busy signal on the phone and powering through the DSL line. There are simple pleasures, people. Bon Jovi is one of mine. (Ok, some might say Bon Jovi is a fascination, but for the sake of the blog let's call it a simple pleasure.)

Now...where did I put my bright yellow "Slippery When Wet" concert t-shirt from 1987...

Waga-My-Heart-Out

I realize I'm a little late in the game here, but understand that my diet consists of whatever isn't moldy, bruised, smelly or sticking in my fridge. I always have a Power Bar and a banana near my desk at work or in my bag on-the-go. So when my co-workers shout out, "I'm ordering lunch from _____" I usually perk up (if I haven't just stuffed a Power Bar in my mouth).

Today, the _____ was "Wagamama" -- a noodle bar in Faneuil Hall. Originally a UK company, Wagamama hit the Boston scene last year and like most restaurants in Faneuil Hall, I dismissed it as another tourist trap. In most cases I am spot on. Today, I admit I was wrong. Wagamama is my new favorite place.

I was skeptical at first. The section of the menu called "Ramen" brought me back to freshman year of college. The boxes of Ramen noodles were piled up along the wall -- three a day, one and a half minutes in the microwave. When you bought in bulk, the little noodle soups came to about 15 cents each. Not bad for a broke college kid. But after a year of Ramen noodles, you swear you'll never eat them again. Ever.

Today, I ordered the Vegetarian Ramen Noodle bowl. It arrived on my desk approximately one hour ago, and I'm still trying to get through the endless bowl of whole wheat noodles, vegetable broth and fresh vegetables. It's 32 ounces of pure veggie delight on a cold rainy day. It's healthy, and it has more taste than my Power Bar.

One Martini, Two Martinis, Three Martinis...Home

How many martini's does it take before you fall down? Or start seeing prostitutes?

Let me explain...

There are good weeks at the job and there are frustrating weeks. When the weeks of wrath hit, one goes drinking. Well, probably not logical people but I never said I was one so...

After the Duke's Hotel martini's in London, I've become somewhat of an addict. I've rekindled my love affair with the original dirty and I'm a better woman for it. So at 5 p.m. yesterday my co-workers and I closed down the computers, packed up our bags and headed toward Boston's Back Bay to The Oak Room at the Fairmont Plaza Hotel.

Setting: Tall mahogany wood walls, red velvet drapes that hang from ceiling to floor, wooden circular tables flanked with plush velvet chairs. There's a grand piano in the middle of the room. The clientele is mainly business men in suits celebrating a recent deal or sorrowing over a lost account. Every once in a while you'll see an out-of-town family of four walk through the bar on their way to the Oak Room's full service dining area.

We arrived around 6 p.m. and found a table to drop our bags and bodies. The server came over with menu's and we each chose a martini to quench the thirst and cover-up the chaos from the day. One drink down... another one ordered...

Drink two:
MFTM announced she's allowed to hang with me any time because when she goes home to The Husband, he doesn't have to beg for sex. I'm still trying to figure out why that is this case and if that was a compliment. And is this a skill I can market?

Drink three:
MFTM saw a prostitute. She said. We weren't there. Bail was outside text messaging her husband, begging him to pick her up. I was in the washroom, which, after three martini's at the Oak Room, seems like a mile away. When we came back to the table, MFTM said we just missed the prostitute leaving with a short bald man. And Bail realized she just told her husband to meet her at the wrong bar.

Thankfully, all parties arrived home safely. Sometimes the simple pleasure of a martini helps smooth over a day gone wrong.

Sunday Morning Syndrome

Few things are better than a lazy Sunday morning. Especially after a long week of travel. It's raining in Boston this morning and I've got Sunday Morning Syndrome - I don't want to get out of my bed. Unfortunately, this will get complicated since there is no one here to brew me coffee.

Last night I enjoyed a wonderful dinner at Taranta, a lovely Italian-Peruvian restaurant in my neighborhood. My friends and I took the European approach to dinner and upon arriving at our table we informed our server that we would be having a nice long, leisurely dinner. No problem, she said, and we sat back and relaxed. After a bottle of wine and table of tuna steaks, espresso-crusted filet's, and antipasto, we called it a night.

I think my body is still adjusting to the time zone changing -- I came home and immediately crawled into bed. Now I'm enjoying the quiet sounds of a Sunday morning.

The "Sex and the City" Single Syndrome

There are two schools of thought when it comes to single people: 1) They are sad and lonely. 2) They have a highly-active, extremely sexual dating life.

The reality is that in most cases, neither is true.

I'm a big believer in "when it happens it happens" so I don't worry so much about dating or finding "the one." Instead, I am confident that one day he'll be sitting next to me on an airplane or offer me a gelato at the top of the Spanish Steps. Yes, I realize that won't get me a house and kids any time soon, but sometimes idealism is a nice break from reality. That's why travel is so wonderful. When you leave your home base, you allow yourself the possibility to be free from conformity.

I am always up for new things so when the opportunity presented itself to cook erotic foods with a famous Boston chef, I jumped at the opportunity. And then came the dreaded words from my editor: "Ideally, you could end the story by cooking these foods for a date."

I could. But I don't have one. And where do I find one? And honestly, why is it expected that I would? Are we so programmed to associate eroticism with sex that the idea of doing something as a "single" is almost taboo?

It's the "Sex and the City" Single Syndrome -- if you're single, and you live in the city, you must be fabulously engrossed with various men for late-night rendezvous'. While there is a level of "sexiness" to this concept -- and on some Saturday night's it does happen -- the reality is that a good bottle of a wine and a John Hughes movie run a close second to most dates. Yes, I can see the unfortunate side of this, but I make no apologies for being picky about the men I date. I brought this topic up to my married friends and got the following responses:

"Maybe you should go to temple and meet a nice guy." (Obviously, this friend was joking, but she certainly channeled my mother).

"Can they do that?" asked another, who was questioning the integrity of the publication.

"I'm no prude, but don't give a 'fuck assignment' and call it journalism." Well said.

So OK -- here we are. I'm going to cook erotic foods with a Boston chef and write about it. I'll post the pictures here and also a link to the story. In the meantime, if you have a single male you want to pimp out for the occasion, let me know. Otherwise, take my advice and enjoy a little single-time for yourself with a good meal and a glass of wine.