2008: Year in Review

In approximately 12 hours, we'll be celebrating the start of a new year and saying goodbye to a forgettable 2008.

I would spend time reviewing the year and personally saying goodbye to the bullshit that I survived, but instead of recapping it's best to look forward. There were some positives, which I'll gladly highlight:

Travel: Rome, Nantucket, London, New York, San Francisco, Washington, DC and more...
Job: I'm fortunate to have a dream job
Career: I'm fortunate that my dream job is aligned with my career goals, and there is more coming...
Family and Friends: The best.
America: President-elect Barack Obama

I can say I'm eager to enter 2009 - I'm excited about the possibilities and the adventures that lie ahead. I'm entering the new year making one promise to myself: To say "yes" a little more and take advantage of all of life's possibilities.

Concept: One Day Coast-to-Coast Travel

Airlines are having intense fare sales right now and it got me thinking, "where could I go, and how much can I really afford to spend?"

At dinner last night I was chatting with a friend about Virgin America's new flights from Boston. For a limited time, Virgin America is offering discounted one-way fares on Boston flights to Los Angeles and San Francisco to celebrate their new route.

"For that fare, you can fly out that morning, have dinner in L.A. and then fly back that night for less than you'd spend at a nice dinner in Boston," my friend said.

Hmmmm.

That would be rather fun, and different. If I take the 7 a.m. flight to Los Angeles I arrive at 10:35 a.m. I can spend the day playing in L.A. then take the 9:15 p.m. flight back and be at work the next day. It's an intriguing concept...

Virgin America is famous for its in-flight services, so the long coast-to-coast flight wouldn't seem so bad given the computer games, in-flight chat systems and mini-bars on the plane. It would be fun to say I flew to L.A. for dinner.


I may not be Julia Roberts, but that doesn't mean I can't portray "Pretty Woman".

Anyone want in on this crazy idea?

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.

Longing for Elsewhere

Yesterday was the perfect day in the neighborhood. The sidewalks were empty, the streets were quiet. Not a rumble around. It seemed like the entire neighborhood was mine. Today, it's all back to normal.

People are walking aimlessly and paying no attention to the other people on the street. Not walking, slowly strolling. Not paying attention, particularly to the little old lady using a walker to get down the icy streets she's known since she arrived off the boat 80 years ago.

I long for somewhere else.

I miss the sound of the sun setting in Selema, Portugal over the cliff rocks and the slow pour of a Chianti from a sidewalk cafe in Rome. If I close my eyes I can see the bright lights of Paris and the whitewashed buildings of Morocco. It's time to travel again...

Happy Birthday, Dad

"I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you"

-Paul Simon, "Father and Daughter"

And Then There Was Burberry

I woke today determined to get mine... whatever that may be. Following the rose-throwing attacks of yesterday, I was set to make things even today - I needed to feel better and beautiful, and save a couple dollars doing so. First stop: Banana Republic.

I had recently purchased myself a couple pairs of my favorite Banana Republic pants and a cape/sweater/shawl, only to learn this morning that all three items were now an additional 30% off the sale price. I waited patiently outside the front doors of Banana Republic and was greeted immediately at 10 a.m. by the store manager, who graciously helped me. We returned all the items and re-purchased them at the discounted price. Total amount of money saved: $150.

Next stop: Saks Fifth Avenue. Normally, I don't find anything I need at Saks, but I was in the mood to just browse. When I don't feel like buying, I go to Saks and trade buying for trying. I usually model something in the form of a Valentino handbag, but as I entered the department store all bets were off, for Saks was having a ridiculous sale. I opted for the gloves, handbag and accessories department. I need new gloves, so I figured what the hell...

I walked the isles feeling the cashmere and wool blends, trying on gloves and hats and debating the colors that would go best with the items in my closet. Black is obvious. I hate pink. Purple would be great, but the only purple gloves they had weren't to my liking. Maybe if I get a purple scarf the purple gloves won't look so bad. New approach: Find purple scarf.

Scarf FOUND! Scarf snatched by faster shopper. Dammit. It's a sign, I thought, and started toward the sunglasses case. I shouldn't spend any money on sunglasses - I break them or lose them. Always. But laying there on top of the sunglasses case was a rich purple cable-knit scarf. Hm. I picked it up and quickly realized it wasn't just any lush purple cable-knit scarf, but it was the Burberry cable-knit cashmere/wool purple scarf that I had adored.

It was just lying there, untouched and unharmed. No kinks in the yarn or pulls in the knit. Just the perfect extra-long scarf. And it was on sale.

Original price: $595
Sale price on tag: $359
Price with discounts: $108
Total savings: $487



I was on a high, so I held the scarf close and moved along to make sure I didn't miss anything else this spectacular. I grabbed one last item, which remains in the box. It's a gift for a friend who reads this blog often. One of her favorite designers was on sale today so I bought an early-birthday present (with returnable gift card) - I couldn't pass up the price, and this friend would appreciate a good sale.

New Day, New Shopping

They are calling it the bigger-than-Black-Friday shopping day. I am calling it, "get your ass out of bed and go shopping day!"

It's 8 a.m. and I've already purchased a white wool blazer and black sequin top. I've updated the flight and travel news blog (news: the DOT will reduce the number of flights allowed at New York's LaGuardia airport) checked my email for any last-minute content crisis (there are none) and called Dad to wish him a happy birthday (he was already in the car heading to the malls).

It's time to get up and get shopping - or at the very least, window shop my little heart out.

The (Un)Christmas Spirit

I often wonder what goes through people's minds, especially around the holidays.

I woke today and turned on the news. Lead story: Gunman in Santa Suit Kills Three at L.A. Party. I won't dignify the title with a link to the story, because it's just wrong. What could have been so wrong with this person? As I left the apartment today, I found myself asking the same question about people I ran into on the street.

I left my apartment at 1:30 and made my way to the 2:20 p.m. showing of "Slumdog Millionaire." I had my iPod on and turned up louder than usual... maybe it was because I really loved the song that played on 'shuffle' mode, maybe because I was subconsciously tuning out the rest of the world. I made it to the end of the block and a white pick-up truck was approaching. A 20-something year-old man slowed down and waved a bouquet of roses at me. I turned around to see who was behind me. He kept yelling something, but I couldn't hear. I shook my head and held up one finger - the universal 'one minute' signal - so I could turn down the music. Maybe he was looking for someone? Maybe he was lost and needed directions.

As I took the earplugs out of my ears in enough time to hear him yell, "...ungrateful bitch! Merry fucking Christmas!" just as he threw a bouquet of one dozen roses at my head. The roses landed in the middle of the street and I just stared at them.

Stunned and confused, I picked up the roses in hopes of finding a card with an address. No card. No address. I placed the roses on the snow bank and walked off. There was something so un-friendly about the beautiful bouquet that I couldn't take them with me. I could have given them to a homeless person, but something stung inside and I couldn't bring myself to walk with them.

I walked to the movie theater wondering what could have possibly happened that this man thought it was OK to throw roses at me and call me an ungrateful bitch. Maybe his girlfriend just left him. Or his wife. Maybe he had a fight with his family. Maybe there was no one else to give the roses to. Maybe he should have just thrown them out.

I arrived at the movie theater and found a quiet spot on the left side near the wall. It was a row with only two seats, so I was either going to get lucky and have the seat next to me for myself, or have to share the row with a stranger. Enter: the stranger. He was a nice enough older man, and we made small talk for three-minutes until the lights went down.

The theater went dark, and I began to cry. I don't know why. What a year it's been. I'm tired. Maybe I was crying because I miss my family. Maybe I was crying because I don't. Maybe I shed a few tears because the first time I received flowers from a man this year, he was a stranger in a pick-up truck who called me an ungrateful bitch. There was a part of me this year who craved a warm body next to me in bed. Many of my friends say I have a life they envy - carefree and no strings attached. There is a simple pleasure to being unattached, but that same part of me wished I woke up this morning to a loved one handing me a gift. Instead, a stranger threw thorns.

I had a voicemail after the movie. It was one of my cousins in New York calling to tell me she missed me. I miss her, too. I don't regret not driving to New York this year, but I will make a concerted effort to get there more next year.

I'm home, safe and sound. I have a bottle of Barolo breathing and an amber candle scenting my apartment. I'll throw in a frozen pizza for dinner and enjoy the comforts of my home, sweet home.

Lyrics of the Day

Merry Christmas, Sis.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight"

-Sung by Judy Garland, from the movie "Meet Me in St. Louis"

Merry Christmas to All

When I woke up yesterday morning, I looked at NORAD to track Santa's whereabouts.

At about 7:30 a.m., Santa was off the coast of Russia.

I spent most of Christmas Eve working on last-minute work items before heading over to my dear friend's house for an Italian feast with the kids. I've known the family for 10 years, helped raise the kids and love Christmas traditions with the family. I typically spend Christmas in upstate New York with my uncle, aunts, cousins and kids, but this year I'm at home. The weather forecast isn't particularly wonderful and I'm a bad driver on a good day, so we figured out the odds and decided it was better to just stay put. So, I stay...

I waited oh-so-patiently for the cab I called 40 minutes ago to pick me up. Apparently, the cab meant for me picked up another passenger... good thing I called back to find out where the cab I was promised in 10 minutes was in route. The dispatcher apologized and said another cab was on its way. Patiently, I wait... and the UPS man appears.

A big brown box. My name. Banana Republic. Santa had come early! If the first cab had been on time, I would have missed my Banana Republic early-delivery. In the box: one cashmere sweater, one sweater-cape, two pairs of favorite pants. There was no time to open the package because the new cab was approaching.

Christmas morning: Coffee in hand. "A Christmas Story" on TBS. Big brown box from Banana Republic waiting to be opened ... and it's just for me.

A Toast to the Holidays

What's more fun than festive cocktails at holiday season? Laughing (or laughing at) the stupid things you (or your co-workers/friends) said, thanks to the festive cocktails.

New York Times writer Glenn Eichler penned a piece about the great things that come out of people's mouth after a couple adult beverages. His opinion piece, "Really, It's the Booze Talking," Eichler offers up some of his favorite alcohol-enhanced comments of the year past.

Sadly, I'm quite certain some of these lines came from my mouth just last week...

Glenn, if you're reading, stop following me around with a tape recorder. The line about living next door for 10 years was an awesome conversation starter (even though I know where I've lived for 10 years). And my friends did confirm that I was wearing pants at the holiday party.

Disclaimer: I firmly believe that one shouldn't be held responsible for what one says after one has been drinking with one's co-workers. Once alcohol enters the room, all bets are off.

Holiday Lines in the Neighborhood

The neighborhood is hard at work preparing for tomorrow night's big feast. Around here, Christmas Eve is the second-biggest night of the year (second only to St. Anthony's Feast).

The turkey is primed, the quail is stuffed, the lamb is braised, the ham is plumped, the fish is marinating, the vegetables are stewing. Lines of people grace the streets waiting for their favorite coffee beans, candy for the kids, pastries for the adults, and mistletoe to hang at the door.

Most people are friendly and step out of line to help the older patrons pass by on the icing sidewalks. Some younger kids still don't appreciate the older generation. It doesn't ruin the mood. Neighbors wave and wish one another a merry Christmas. Hands are extended for good greetings and warm wishes. Smiles are everywhere, mainly among the wrinkled faces of the grandparents who wait anxiously for their families to dine together around the dinner table - a common tradition that sometimes gets lost throughout the year, but always finds it way back at Christmas.

Holidays at Home: Loneliness or Necessary?

Is it a bad sign that this holiday season, I just want to curl up on my sofa in front of the TV, open a good bottle of wine and watch old movies?

Salon.com thinks something is wrong with this...

They've labeled my 'hibernation period' as loneliness. I call it necessary.
I love my family. They are the most important thing in life. My friends in Boston have extended invitations to spend the holidays with their families. But for a solid 24-hours, I think there is nothing more peaceful than time alone.

I love walking around the neighborhood on an empty morning when no one is around. The streets are calm and clean, and it's quiet. It's meditative and reflective. It's what I'm doing this Christmas.

Playlist: Snowed In

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

From the Bedroom: Early Sunday Morning

The snow is stuck to my window screen, blocking the magical view of the city I love to gaze at from my bedroom window. The wind swooshes past the windows sending shivers through the old wood of the apartment building. It's winter in Boston.

I joined "date night" with my friend and her husband last night. Mo at the convenience store told me I looked nice when I stopped in for a bottle of wine to bring home and sip after dinner.

Sleep is at a minimum again these days. I'm longing for another trip, but New York City will be the next escape.

Debating laying in bed a little longer, or admitting defeat to the night and braving this cold, windy and snowy Sunday...

You Know You've Had Too Much to Drink When...

• You have to ask "who left the lights on?" when you wake up in the morning, and you live alone, and there is no one else in the apartment.
• You don't remember where you put your pants, but you can swear you walked home with pants on.
• You wake up laying diagonally across the bed with no pillows and only one sock on your foot, and wonder why you can't move your neck.
• You want to throw things at the guy downstairs who is shoveling the snow because every time he hurls the snow to the curb, the sound hurts your brain. (thank you, nice man, for shoveling the snow.)
  
• You wonder where the extra $20 came from, and then decide it's better that you not know.

p.s. Good news: I found my pants. They were in the bathtub... which is an entirely other problem, I presume, but I'm in no shape to work through that problem today.

New York, New York

Thanks to JetBlue's 9-hour sale, me and the gals are heading to NYC for a long weekend in January! The airline tickets were only $80 round-trip. That means more money to spend on a nice hotel.

NYC in the snow - one of my favorite times of year to visit the city.

Walks around Rock Center.
Hot knishes from the street cart.
Off-Broadway plays.
Late-night cocktail lounges.
Foggy windows in the bar at the Marriott Marquis.
Tiffanys.
Central Park.
New York.

These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York...

The Meat of the Matter

How else will we connect if we don't put ourselves in the position to connect? That is the question my friends have posed to me since the announcement of my new crush.

My friends have explained the importance of making myself noticed by the butcher. So today at lunch, I walked with Bail down to the butcher shop to get meat. Bail and her husband are meat lovers and welcomed the opportunity to help me meet the meat man. We walked into the butcher shop and stood among at least a dozen people, also waiting for their meat. After about 15 minutes we thought it might be better (and more to my benefit) to come back later.

Back at the office, I was informed this plan is due to fail. Why would Bail go in for her own meat when I can get the meat for her and meet the meat man? One problem: I don't know the first thing about meat.

We busted out the Great Meat Book and Bail made her list:

- One rabbit cut into five or six pieces.

- Two lamb shanks.

- Four pounds of stock bones/joints.

- A single marrow bone split down the middle.

- One hanger steak

I stood staring at this meat list and thought, "Who can eat all this meat?" But I don't know from meat, so off I went in search of the meat.

The meat market was empty, save for the owners and one patron. I walked in and the meat man greeted me,

"Oh, you came back?" he said.

"Yes, of course." I said.

"What can I get you?"

I rattled off my list.
Rabbit? Yes. Lamb shanks? Yes. Stock bones/joints? No. Single marrow? No. (screw the hanger steak, I thought).

Off he went to prepare my meat.

He did not address me by my name. He cut the meat, he wrapped it up. He said, "Can I get you anything else?"

(you can get me a few things, lover, but they aren't found in that freezer)

"Nope, I think that's it."

He calculated the total.

"Anything else?" he asked again.

(think, quick, witty, something)

"Nope." I said.

"$42" he said.

I handed over my money. He said 'Good to see you,' and off I went with my bag of meat.

Home now... thinking of all the things I should have said...

So it got me thinking? Why do women wait for the signals before acting on their impulse? What would happen if we just acted and hoped for the best? Who is to say what the right signals are? If we wait too long, do we miss them?

How Did He Know My Name?

I've lived in the neighborhood for 11 years. Same apartment. Same landlord. Same neighbors. This block is one of the last dying breeds in the 'hood.

For 11 years, I've said hello to the man who owns the fruit stand, the family who owns the coffee shop, the cooks at the restaurant, and the butchers next door. Admittedly, I look forward to saying hello to the butcher next door.

For 11 years, the response has been "Hi, honey," "Hi, sweetheart," "Hi, dear," - it depends on who is doing the hellos, and it's very old-school Italian. I would find it insulting if an average Joe off the street greeted me with "sweetie", but from him, I don't seem to mind. For 11 years, it's never bothered me.

Finally, after 11 years, he greeted me with my name. Instead of "sweetheart", "cutie," "love," or "dear," I was me. It stopped me in my tracks. Not only because the sound of my name sounded perfect from his mouth, but also because I have no idea his name!

In 11 years, I've never walked into the butcher store. I don't have a problem with meat. I just don't know how to order it. Or what to order. Or what to cook. Or how to cook it. So, I never went in to the store. For 11 years I walked by, and was always greeted with a hello. Now, it's personal.

How did he know my name?

Lyrics of the Day

"Sunday Sun, when you're round
Get to feelin' like I wanna smile
Weekday strings, tie me down
But this one day, baby, I can fly"

- Sunday Sun, Neil Diamond

Deck the Halls...Trim the Tree... Mike's Pastry

I've enjoyed two days off work (one more to come this Monday).

Hair cut = CHECK.
Bills paid = CHECK.
Sovereign Bank bitch-fest = CHECK. (long story, but here's the gist: I closed an account, and a bill payer who hadn't updated their systems attempted to withdraw money from my closed account...and Sovereign let them!)
Seek out dress for upcoming bat mitzvah = CHECK (and purchased).
Laundry = CHECK.
New makeup = CHECK.

The only thing I didn't do was have lunch with my dearest friend - we canceled due to the ice storm that blanketed the state. So today, I head to Hingham to decorate the Christmas tree with friend and her family. I'm feeling very nostalgic this holiday season - the idea of decorating a tree, sipping hot chocolate, taking pictures and enjoying the comforts of home seems perfect. And, because I know how much her husband loves sweets, I'll show up with a nice box of goodies from Mike's Pastry.

Vacation Day 1

6 a.m.: Woke up and reminded myself I didn't have to go to work today. Extra points because it's raining outside, so I didn't have to get out of bed to walk in the rain.

8 a.m.: Moved from the bed to the sofa to watch the news in HD. Coffee on. Laptop booting up.

9 a.m.: Read the online news and blogs; checked email. SCORE: The Huffington Post commented on the travel report I've been working on for the past month. Had a few proud, gloating moments to myself before researching the travel news of today.

10 a.m.: The Sound of Music-themed hotel in Salzburg has been put on hold. This put a damper in my day. I am one of "The Sound of Music" fans who was actually considering a trip to Salzburg just to stay at this hotel.

11 a.m.: Off to the dentist to get a cavity re-filled. Not a new cavity, thank you very much, but a crack in the current one.

11:30 a.m.: Big needle in mouth. Hate. This. Part.

11:35 a.m.: Cannot feel my mouth. Tongue numb. Ears tingling. Numb. Nice lady in blue scrubs gives me dark-colored glasses to put over my eyes so random tooth pieces don't go flying into my eyes.

1:00 p.m.: Home from dentist. Still numb. I don't think I have a tongue. Ears still tingling. Novocaine numbed entire right side of my face. Numb, numb, numb...

----

Waiting anxiously for Novocaine to wear off. I hate this part - I hate feeling "not myself." This is likely why I never got into drugs, although I suppose the feeling I get from a good bottle of wine could be considered a good high.

Dinner tonight with a co-worker at one of my favorite restaurants in Boston.

Up Next...

I have three vacation days coming this week.

It's that time of year, when I catch up on all the things I haven't done and think about all the things I want to do next year. On tap: a dentist appointment, dinner with co-workers, haircut, pedicure, gym, pay bills, gym, vacuum, gym, dust, try and defer jury duty, plan 2009 travel plans, find one new class to take in Q1 (I'm thinking photography), work on the book...

"The thirst for adventure is the vent which Destiny offers; a war, a crusade, a gold mine, a new country, speak to the imagination and offer swing and play to the confined powers."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

The First Snowfall

Pure, white and clean. The first snowfall of the season is always majestic in its own way.
The unique flakes blanket the rough roads, which have seen months of wear, tear and war. The streets get to start over with the first snowfall.


Winter is my favorite season in Boston. The Christmas spirit is spread through the streets and holiday cheer hangs from the trees in the form of shiny lights and tinsel. I sit in my apartment with a giant cup of coffee and watch as the flakes slowly and gently fall to the ground - a peaceful reminder that winter is here.

"Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories."
~From the movie An Affair to Remember

File Under: WTF?!?!

We decided to break free from the office at 5pm tonight and go see a movie.

The screen: "Four Christmases"
The time: 5:15 p.m.
The place: Boston Common Loews Movie Theater, cinema 6

We grabbed popcorn and a soda and found two prime seats in the theater. Feet up, seat back, dark room ... and 'action!'

Two hours later and feeling good from some serious Vince Vaughn hilarity, we left the theater with every intention to go home. We were stopped at cinema 8 by a young girl wearing a grey wool coat, matching headband and carrying a clipboard. Her friend/co-worker/Stepford wife look-a-like was next to her furiously typing on her blackberry.

"You girls want to watch a free screening tonight?"

"Uhhhh... of what?"

"It's a new prime time TV show on TNT called Leverage. We're screening it tonight at 8pm, but there's live entertainment beforehand."

"Live entertainment? Like dancers and jugglers?"

"No, just a little magic show. Oh, and Timothy Hutton is going to be here!"

(PR note: This is your hook, ladies. Start with the Oscar winner when trying to lure people into the theater, then move into the side entertainment.)

"OH, I love Timothy Hutton! 'Beautiful Girls' was a great movie!" I said. The Stepford ladies looked at me blankly - they probably don't even know who Timothy Hutton is - but in we went to the theater.

We were coerced into sitting up front - I think to make the 'entertainment' feel valuable - and had prime seats for the freak show of people that were walking through the door. It's a truly weird concept when you can look around the room and realize out of the 70 people sitting there, you're the most normal.

Nearly 25 minutes later the "entertainment" started. He's a magician with blue hair. He took a dollar from a lady and made it disappear. Then he took a ring from a lady and made it disappear. Meanwhile, one man refused to read a card (part of the trick) and another man sitting five rows back felt a good long belch would liven things up. The lady in the front row keeps asking, "what are you doing?" as she watches the magic trick take place. The magician - ignoring the background noises of odd seat-fillers - made the dollar and the ring reappear, handed out Starbucks gift cards and casually walked off the scene.

The theater-goers shuffled seats to be in prime viewing location for the TNT special. We chose to sit in the back... better to watch the craziness unfold as it happens, instead of having to turn around throughout the show.

"I just don't know what is going to happen next," said Bail. And she wasn't talking about the show.

"Leverage" - which airs this Sunday night at 10 p.m. on TNT - was a decent show. I liked it because of Timothy Hutton. I could have done without the stupid blond and the French sidekick (a la "DiVinci Code") - both who were given the obvious roles of distracting the ugly while the real thieves did the dirty work. The plot was semi-interesting: steal from the rich and make a profit off of them. I give it 2.5 stars out of five. But the night wasn't over at the end of the show...

As promised, Timothy Hutton did show up. A rather good-looking man both on-screen and in person. The moderator threw the first question to the audience and the rest of the night is a bit of a blur. I struggled to find a legitimate question for the celebrity actor because I was so flabbergasted by the ridiculousness of the crowd. Moreso, I was amazed that the Stepford girls still have a job this far into the night.

I'm not sure how the night ended, actually. I remember someone asked if there were plans to do a "Beautiful Girls, Part 2: 15 Years Later," which I fully support, although I don't know that I'm ready to admit it's been 15 years.

What started off as a simple movie to rid our heads of the workday chaos turned into a night of complete confusion that left us walking out of the theater wondering, 'what the fuck was that???'

It's a strange realization when the most normal part of your day was at work.

The Loneliness Myth

My New York magazine arrived today. The lead story, "The Loneliness Myth." Apparently, more people live alone in NYC than anywhere else in the world, but research shows that New York is one of the least-loneliest places on Earth. Still I have to wonder...

Is living alone so taboo that it warrants research and studies about human behavior? Is it a disease that can be cured with magical matchmakers or Dr. Phil philosophy? And why do people assume that by living alone, you must be lonely?

I've lived alone in the city since 1998. There are undoubtedly times that I wake up wishing 'he' was here to make me coffee or share the newspaper with. Still, even the mornings that I wake up with 'him' here, it's not soon enough before the place becomes my own again. And while there are certainly no commitments in the near future, does that make me lonely?

I find comfort in things my way. I wish for the same things that other people have, but there is a safe place in my home that only I know. Is it fair to label a city with more than 1 million single people 'lonely', or is that city on the verge of a major psychological break-through: the power of one.

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.

Quote of the Day: 20 Years...

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

-- Mark Twain

Strange Ways in Southwest Florida

The weatherman calls for a chilly day in south Florida. The highs will only reach about 75 degrees.

The dog hunts for frogs near the pool, then cries when she finds the frog.

The gardener is also the pool man.

Alligators bathe in the neighborhood lake.

There is a panther sunning itself on the golf course, and the golfers don't seem to mind.

It's a strange way in southwest Florida.

The Airport

One of the best people-watching places in the world. Any airport. Thousands of people.

I once dated a boy who would humor with silly games. We would sit on the front stoop of our apartments and guess where the passersby were headed. Whether by car, bike, or the occasional plane that flew above the city, it was always a wonderment to me where people get up and go to.

At 5:30 a.m., it's already a busy morning at Logan International Airport. The kids are pulling their Hello Kitty suitcases behind them while holding tightly to teddy bears, blankets or Mom. Parents are eagerly searching for the first cup of coffee, but nothing is open yet. Business travelers are already on their laptops communicating with the rest of the world.

The JetBlue place that is taking me to Florida sits at the gate. Lights are on inside the plane and the ground crew is buzzing around the plane's belly making sure everything is sorted for flight.

In the distance, an airline takes off... I wonder where it's going...

Tuesday Travel

Tomorrow I'm off to Fort Myers for Thanksgiving.

Alarm set for 4 a.m. Flight leaves at 6:10 a.m.
Tired just thinking about it. Maybe I'll sleep on the plane... unlikely.

Dear Pilot,
Here's good wishes for a safe flight. We're expecting some bad weather, so let's get up and over it quickly.

I have my magazines in my bag. My suitcase is packed.

Dinner tonight with an old D.C. friend, then home to bed. Tomorrow = Mom and Dad. Sis arrives on Thursday, just in time for turkey and Mom's famous stuffing.

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.

Working for the Weekend

Sing it loud, sing it proud!

"Everybody's working for the weekend
Everybody wants a little romance
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance."

-Loverboy

I'm a Pepper, You're a Pepper, Wouldn't You Love a Free Pepper?

Who knew Axl Rose and Slash would the ones to help the economy. Well, soda lovers, you can thank your guitar heroes for free Dr Pepper.

Now that Guns N' Roses released its "Chinese Democracy" album, the makers of Dr Pepper are making good on their promise to give free soda to everyone in America.

You've got 24 hours to claim your drink ticket on Dr Pepper's Web site starting Sunday. Drink up! It's free.

Welcome to the jungle, baby...

Lyrics of the Day

"Here you are in the ninth
Two men out and three men on
Nowhere to look but inside
Where we all respond to...Pressure."

- "Pressure," Billy Joel

My Hour: 3 a.m.

I've spent a few days away from the blog handling a few personal matters and working against an at-work deadline, thus, my one hour has been neglected. And now, I'm afraid I have the flu.

It's 3:25 a.m. and I'm awake. Maybe because I've been asleep since 6 p.m. last night, maybe because I just can't sleep anymore, or maybe because it's so damn cold in my bedroom. The joys of an old apartment building: great woodwork, but old wood, which means cracks and creases that let in the cold air.

At 3:29 a.m. I'm flipping through the channels.

Found: "Stardust Memories"; Woody Allen, circa 1980

Total movie time: 89 minutes. Hour starts now.

Wisdom of Dr. Seuss

"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

--Dr. Seuss

British Airways: Hear My Aisle Seat Prayer

If you've flown British Airways, you know that you can't check-in and choose your seats until 24 hours before you flight.

Here I am, 24-hours before my flight, and I still can't check-in. Why? Because you need your passport information to check-in and of course, my passport is sitting at home on my dresser in prime position for packing this evening.

So, British Airways... hear my prayer: I need an aisle seat. Claustrophobia at 33,000-feet over the Atlantic is not a fun for anyone, especially the people I'll need to push out of the way when I can't sit still and need to walk the plane.

I will log in first-thing this evening when I get home, with my passport in hand and pray an isle seat is waiting for me.

One Hour: Gone

Where did my one hour go?

I made a pact with my friend Legally Brunette to devote one hour of our days to us, and I failed on day three. Ironically, 3 is my lucky number so that's somewhat disappointing. I read her one hours and I'm so jealous...grocery shopping, cuddle breaks with husband, TV time. She's done an exceptional job at sticking to the pact. I, on the other hand, didn't get very far.

In my fridge: parmesan cheese and bottled water.
On my sofa: No husband with whom to cuddle.
On the TV: Not sure, as the sound is muted.

Work started at 7 a.m. Work ended at 7:30 p.m. Family crisis started at 6:30 p.m. Hiatus from 7-7:15 p.m., while I was interviewing a source for an article. Family crisis re-started at 7:15 p.m.

It's almost 9 p.m. and I haven't had dinner, haven't gone through the pile of mail on my kitchen counter, and while I have had a couple glasses of wine, I feel it's lost of me as I'm nowhere near relaxed as I should be.

Flip side: Busy, but productive day at work. Good meetings - albeit exhausting - and thankful for a job I love getting up for every day.

I'll end this post now in an effort to jump on the coming hour. First, "The Office," followed by "30 Rock" - 1 hour of prime-time comedy. Fingers crossed.

Quote of the Day

"Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great."

--Mark Twain

Sovereign Bank ATM

I try and limit my rants about businesses and places of work to a minimum. After all, we're all human and we all make mistakes. I didn't blog about the D-Team Starbucks on School Street right away - many screw-ups before I stated my boycott. I didn't say anything about Boston Sports Club until the very last penny. And that's why, I haven't said anything about Sovereign Bank... until today.

I've accepted the past fuck-ups from the bank customer service in the past. To err is human, right? And, all the problems were rectified - once I caught them. But it begs the question, why did the mistakes happen in the first place? This isn't coffee we're talking about - this is MONEY. So today, I've finally had enough, hence the Sovereign Bank Blog Post.

I went to the ATM to withdraw $200, which I was promptly going to turn into British pounds for this weekend's flight to London. I withdrew the money, took the receipt and grabbed my card, and walked over to Citizen's Bank to exchange my money. When I arrived at Citizen's Bank, I handed over my cash - all $160. Wait... what?

Deep sigh.

OK, maybe I misplaced the money. Maybe I didn't take all the money. But really, I'm not that scattered, especially when it comes to money. I chalked it up to a simple technology error. Shit happens. I believe in karma, so my hope is that if it wasn't technology and I'm really stupid enough to leave $40 sitting on a ledge, someone needy picked up the money and was able to do something useful with the cash.

My friend at Citizen's suggested I call Sovereign, if nothing else because there might be a problem with the ATM. So I called... and I waited... and waited... and waited... and after 8 minutes and 16 seconds I hung up. I'm really quite busy today.

So instead I sent a note to customer service via email.

"Hello,

I am hoping someone can call me as soon as possible. After I waited on hold over the phone for more than 8 minutes, I decided to try an email and hope for a better response.

I withdrew $200 from a Boston Sovereign ATM, but I only received $160 from the ATM. I'm sure it sounds crazy, but I took the money, put it in my wallet and went to purchase currency for $200. When I went to pull the money from my wallet, I had only $160. There must be something Sovereign Bank can do! I have the ATM number, time, date, etc. and would happy to explain the situation to anyone."

Here is the response I received:

"Thank you for your recent email. If you withdrew funds with your Sovereign ATM card from a Sovereign ATM please contact a Personal Banking Representative at the number listed below.

Sincerely,
JV (initials used to protect the name)
Sovereign Direct, Email Team"

OK, so... clearly a live person read my email. Or didn't read my email. The first thing I said in my email is that I had waited on hold for more than 8 minutes when I tried to call a personal banking representative, so WHY would you suggest I do that again? Why?

Now I realize this sounds silly, but again, keep in mind that I've refrained from making bad claims about businesses in the past until the really irk me. I'm worn out. I'm tired of holding for periods of time to reclaim money that 1) is rightfully mine and 2) I put in the account in the first place!

Next step: Changing banks.

Hour 2: Nearing Exhaustion

"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."
-Mark Twain

Meetings all day. Exhausted from thinking.

Took my hour to visit my meditation coach. It helped, even though I went back to the office afterwards. The evening ended at the posh restaurant across the street with the London visitors. We drank wine, ate dinner and chatted about politics, shopping and the ways of the world.

Today's one hour wasn't as productive as I had wished, but it was something.

Hour 1

Monday's are always the toughest days.
Wake up after a bad night's sleep. Drag myself to work. Open email.

Email: approximately a dozen notes requesting meetings for this week, and another dozen requesting to change already scheduled meetings to another time this week.

Organize to-do list. Get to-doing.

I opted to leave at 5 p.m. tonight and get started on my "hour of me."

I signed in at the gym, changed clothes and hit the treadmill. TV on. Headphones in. I ran 1.5 miles while watching the end of the 5:00 news and a few minutes of "Hardball with Chris Matthews."

Total time = 20 minutes.

I moved to the bike, attempted to put my water bottle in the holder but missed. Water everywhere. On my way back from the towel stand to wipe up my mess, I grabbed the latest "OK" magazine - Angelina wants to adopt more babies and the details of Madonna and Guy Ritchie's divorced are detailed in this issue. I selected the pre-set 20 minute hill-interval workout, and started pedaling. I opted for an episode of "King of Queens," instead of my usual news info. I don't care what the guy behind me thinks of my TV pleasure - it's my one hour. My thighs were burning after 12 miles.

Total time = 20 minutes.

Move to the leg machine, strap myself in, and start my 100 calf lifts. 44 pounds each leg. Calfs burning.

Music on the iPod: Cake, Distance.
Total time = 3 minutes. 1 minute each leg, 1 minute of break.

Move to the bench for sit-ups. I crunched through "Dontcha", courtesy of the Pussycat Dolls.
Total time = 4 minutes, 30 seconds.

I spent the rest of my hour stretching and it felt good. I wanted eggs for dinner. I stopped off at two grocery marts on my way home - both out of eggs. Who runs out of eggs? Starving, and annoyed that my hour was disturbed by no eggs, I grabbed a slice of cheese pizza and walked home.

I enjoyed the pizza, but I'd rather have eggs. Better luck tomorrow.

One Hour.

Starting this week, a new pact: For the rest of the month, I will devote one hour a day to me. My friend over at Legally Brunette has joined the cause for rejuvenation. After spending too much time wondering where the time goes, it's time to get time back - if only for one hour.

The problem is my day is frantic enough:
Up at 6am, at work by 7am, on the phone with London by 9am, work, work, work, work, work. Leave work between 5-6pm (depending on day's events). Home. Log on to computer. Cook quick dinner. Handle whatever family crisis has come my way. Work. Return any last-minute emails. Pass out on sofa. Move to bed. Start over.

The mission: In this chaos, find one hour for me. That means no phone calls, no computer, no work. I've never been a bubble bath and trashy magazine girl, but maybe I'll start. Or, maybe I'll use the one hour to read or watch TV. Or, maybe I'll devote an hour to a book chapter - either mine or someone else - each night.

OK. Starting today. One hour. Ready, set, go.

Quote of the Weekend

"Why is it men are permitted to be obsessed about their work, but women are only permitted to be obsessed about men?"

-Barbara Streisand

The Rally

I was 12-years-old when I participated in my first political rally. My Mom packed me into the gold Oldsmobile Cutlas Sierra and we pulled out of Penwood Court on a mission: we were headed to Jefferson City to support the pro-choice movement.

Political rallies and sit-ins were nothing new to Missouri's capitol city - throughout the 20th century, Missouri's placement in middle America made it a stomping and standing ground for civil rights and war protests. On this day in 1987, Mom and I were going to be part of an equally important movement: women's rights.

We arrived in Jefferson City early that morning. I'll never forget walking toward the grey slate steps of the Capitol Building. The streets and sidewalks were lined with protesters -- pro-life and pro-choice. A sky of picket signs blanketed my view and people were shouting at each other, but I wondered if they were listening.

"What's in the jar, Mom?" I asked, pointing to an erect card table on the sidewalk that held six glass jars, sitting at even lengths one next to the other.

"It's an unborn fetus," she replied.

"What?!" I gasped. I couldn't stop staring, and at the same time I was completely captivated by the display. It's as if jars of pickles were being put on display for a first-prize ribbon. "WHY would someone put an unborn fetus in a jar?"

"It's their way of telling women that having an abortion means killing a child."

"Well, isn't it the woman's right to chose, Mom?"

She looked at me and smiled. At that moment, I think my Mom knew she had made a difference in my life.

What's the Hurry?

Today started like any other day...
Shower, dress, pack up the work bag, lock the door on the way out, hit the pavement by 7:30 a.m. And like every other day, I walked the same route to work at my typical pace - not too fast, but not slow because that's just annoying. I'm a city girl. I get where I need to be on time.

The coach tells me the best time to be thankful is first thing in the morning. Your mind is fresh, you're seeing everything for the first time that day, and because the stressors of work and world haven't gotten to you yet, you can appreciate the little things. I've taken appreciating little things on my way to work... cleaner streets, the first produce man at Haymarket on a Friday morning, the glare of the steel buildings in the financial district when the sun rises over their peak, the coffee that James has ready for me at Starbucks on Washington St. I knew I had a typical b.s. day ahead of me with a few people in the London office, but I was enjoying my 7.5 minute walk to work...

Until some CRAZY LADY PUSHED ME ON THE SIDEWALK. Apparently, the sidewalk wasn't big enough for the both of us, or the completely empty street next to the sidewalk wasn't sufficient enough for her, so instead she put her hands on my arm and pushed me aside so she can walk past me. I stopped in awe, muttered a few things to myself, and then watched as the crazy sidewalk lady made her way down the street, pushing aside the two men with produce carts making early morning deliveries. They were as displeased as I was, only they shouted louder.

Thankfully, the rest of the walk was better and as usual, James at Starbucks greeted me with a smile a venti Pike Place coffee. The world seems less crazy now.

Quote of the Day

"It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.
Yes we can."

-Yes We Can, by Black Eyed Peas' Will.I.Am

I Wonder...

...what will Sarah Palin do now? Some potential job opps:

• Teach a class in the University of Alaska's justice department entitled: "Proper Politics: The Art of Speech and Linguistics for Dummies".
• Become a regular on SNL, maybe filling in for new Mom Amy Phoeler during the Weekend Update. She's no Jane Curtain, but it would be funny if Seth Myers called Palin an "ignorant slut" on air.
  
• Take a job as a personal shopper for Saks Fifth Avenue.
• Practice caribou hunting from a fighter jet (a helicopter is just boring).
• Talk the First Dude into doing her media and press requests from here on out.

Other thoughts?

Dear President-elect Obama,

Today you won a hard-fought battle and your prize is America. It won't be an easy road - there are a lot of challenges ahead of you and whether you like it or not, you've got a horrible mess to clean-up from the last guy. Not even a Saturday Night Live skit can mask the problems America is suffering from, so it's up to you to turn things around.

I voted for you, and I believe in you. Here are some things to keep in mind:

• Don't defy your integrity. It's what got you here; it's what will keep you here.
• Please save my money. I worked hard - very hard - for the little money I have. While I am in a stable job, making a good salary and actually contributing to a real investment plan, I don't feel I'm obligated to give back to the corrupt CEOs or the lazy people who didn't take time to understand policy and procedure before entering into an agreement that would rattle the U.S. economy.
• Please, for the love of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, can you find the man who tried to kill us seven years ago? He's about 6'5", lives in a cave, and reports claim he's on dialysis so it's likely he'll be attached to a couple machines. Be careful, he travels with smart and potentially-dangerous people, but then again, so do you...
• Remember your roots, your community values and the reason you were elected, the change you can bring. This will keep you humble, focused and trusted, unlike the last guy.

Most of all, Mr. President, remember to embrace the opportunity that America has given you. Today marks a significant day in history - the day America cast aside the remnants of our past generations and looked toward the future. We do have a dream, you can help make sure it comes true.

God bless America.
Yours truly,
Frogger

Good News, America: I'm Not Moving

Only in America...

Flashback: Political Quote of the Day

"I don't want to be invited to the family hunting party."

Sen. Barack Obama, on reports that surfaced earlier in the campaign that he and Dick Cheney are somehow related.

Watching the Polls

It's after 12 p.m. EST, which means the West Coast polls have been open for a few hours now. I don't know why now, or why at this moment, but it just hit me that with every minute passing, history is being made today.

Will it be a black man or a conservative woman?

I received an irate IM from a girlfriend about an hour ago. She's truly upset that some people didn't vote today. She says it's her duty, honor and privilege to vote. I say, it's people like her who will ensure that America remains a democratic society. And this guy...

Voting: A Right or a Responsibility?

Question: What if you don't believe in either candidate?

Check out the heated discussion happening over at On Common Ground...

Personally, I believe voting is a responsibility. It's your responsibility as an American to vote for your local, state and federal rules and rights. If you choose not to vote, then you live with what the final decision is, and you forfeit your right to complain about policy-makers. However, you do get the right to bitch about policy, so long as you pay taxes and contribute to state funding.

The Long and Winding Road...

...Leads to the poll booths this morning.

7 a.m. the people were wrapped around four blocks of Boston's North End district. According to some, the line started at 6 a.m.

Hot cup of coffee in hand, residents old and young stood in line this morning to cast their vote for the next president.

I stood in the long and winding road for 45 minutes, then rocked my vote under Precinct 3's roster.

"I can't imagine a person becoming a success who doesn't give this game of life everything he's got."
-Walter Cronkite, Happy 92nd Birthday!

Inside the Voting Booth - Behind the Steel Curtains of America

One day until the most influential election of my generation. Yes, there were influential presidents before tomorrow, but none that I was able to vote for. Tomorrow marks my most powerful vote, and I'm scared as hell.

I've always been an idealist; maybe to a fault or maybe it's what keeps me going. I held on to my idealism when I visited the jail every weekend for three months to interview inmates who claim to be wrongly accused for committing grotesque crimes. I watched in wonderment from the House floor as the President of the United States gave a State of the Union address immediately following the worst attack on U.S. soil, which ignited Americans to unify and fight for their freedom and I wondered, "how can he be so sure we're safe?" I witnessed the American flag rise every morning from the five-starred Pentagon building only to reveal a blown-out section of the very building that defends my freedom, and I still believe. I believe that America is the greatest country in the world - not without its faults, but sacred with strength.

Earlier in the year, I became part of history when I cast a vote for a woman president of the United States. While my vote wasn't able to carry Hilary Clinton into the delegation, I am equally in awe at the option of voting for the first black man as president. This election is a sign of progression, but I shudder to wonder how many Americans are afraid to move ahead.

Can America vote a black man into the highest office, or will the segregated America of years past rear its ugly head behind the steel curtains of the voting booth?

I'm nervous at the news headlines that flood my inbox today:

Obama leading in key voting sectors
One day, eight points
Hope, fears as Harlem gets election fever

Nervous not because of the predictions, but because the predictions might be wrong. Is America voting with heart and soul, or with mixed emotions? Is the Bradley Effect nearing the corner? Will voters say one thing to the pollsters, only to vote the opposite inside the poll booth?

Maybe we're not as evolved as we claim to be. Maybe we need the Maverick mentality to lead us to salvation from the war we didn't want and the economy we lost. Maybe a moose-hunting woman is more influential than a small town senator. Maybe an ex-POW is needed more than an optimistic evolutionary. Or maybe not.

I think of what America would be without Roe vs. Wade, healthcare coverage or an ally in Israel and I am frightened. But I'm comforted by the thought that for one brief moment tomorrow, behind the steel curtains of the polling booth, I'll be at peace with my vote.

Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

San Francisco, Pier 14

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.