Bike! A Christmas Memory

I am a little girl and I am the youngest of four children and everyone is much older than me and no one wants to wake up at 6am with me to sneak a peek at what Santa brought us this year. I am already skeptical of the actual existence of the infamous Mr.Claus since finding my parents' secret stash of potential gifts in their bedroom closet. But I want to believe because why the hell not? Isn't that the best part of Christmas? The magic of it all? The faith in something so outlandish as a man flying around in a sled pulled by eight reindeer?

So I keep on believing and I beg my sisters and brother to wake up a 6am with me so that someone will be around to see me see the presents under the tree for the first time. It won't feel enough like a memory if only I am there to experience it. I need someone else there for posterity. Otherwise it is just not as real (or as fun).

My sisters are both older and in high school and love to sleep in until at least noon on the weekends. Their heads are buried under their fluffy down pillows. I whimper into their exposed ears, begging for them to wake up. "It's Christmas!" I exclaim, thinking this will be enough to send them bounding down the hallway with me. Instead, I get muttered curses and groans. Also promises that they will get up in a few hours and open gifts with me then. They tell me to get lost, sigh deeply, and toss their lean high school girl bodies back and forth deeper under the covers. The room goes quiet and I am left slinking back into the darkened hallway.

I head to the room I share with my brother. He is on the top bunk, because I am too small to sleep up there and might fall off in the night. I say his name over and over until he stirs. I hear a mumble of response. "It's Christmas! Let's go see what Santa brought!" I exclaim. The mumbling stops. Stillness. I whisper his name again, but he has learned that any response will only encourage me to keep at him. Playing dead (aka asleep) will thwart any attempts from me to drag him out of bed. I keep saying his name until it starts to sound strange, like a foreign language. That is when I give up.

I shuffle down the hallway in the early morning light and everything is shadows. When I get to the living room, I see the dark silhouette of our Christmas tree, along with new shapes and angles surrounding it. Presents!

I flip the light switch.

No one is there to see me see my new bike for the first time. But I will always remember the moment anyway. It is big. Huge! A big girl bike for sure. Training wheels are already attached to its pastel pink frame. I climb onto it and hover my small, slippered feet over the pedals. I pretend I am flying down the street alongside my siblings on their sleek ten-speeds. Finally I can grow up and ride! My deepest dream is coming true this year and I am beyond thrilled.

At this moment, I have no idea that I will end up crashing into the neighbor's huge prickly bush at least a dozen times before I can balance enough to ride on my own. I have no idea that in four short months, on Easter Sunday, I will leave my prized possession on the porch like many kids do in safe neighborhoods like ours, and it will be stolen right from our front door. I can't imagine the amount of tears I will shed when I realize the bike is stolen. I can't imagine the deep sense of loss I will experience at such a young age. At this moment, I also have no idea that I will end up falling deeply in love with biking again so many years later, when I move to Chicago, Illinois and a sweet boy I fall in love with will offer to give me his old dirt bike. I will end up riding the hell out of that old bike, dragging its heavy dark blue frame up the stairs from my basement every morning to glide through the streets to my corporate job in a big tall building in the heart of the city.

I have no idea about any of these things to come. All I know is that I am in love with my very first pink big girl bike on that special Christmas morning, and the world is absolutely perfect right at that very moment.

Oh Holy Night(s)

There are few things greater than time off for the holidays. A well deserved break from the grind is essential to one's mental sanity, in my opinion. This year, for the first time in a long time, I have many days off and no travel plans. Usually we rush to finish work, rush to catch a flight, rush to see everyone on our "loved ones list," and rush back to Chicago feeling happy but less than well rested. This year because we are getting married this May, we decided to save the money and spend a quiet and relaxing Christmas at home.

One bonus is that we will actually see snow during the holiday, instead of riding beach cruiser bikes down the beach in sunny California (which though awesome, feels strangely un-Christmas-like).

Another bonus is spending our first Christmas with our new kitty Burke. He gets a Christmas gift but will have to work for it--Adam bought an elf costume on a whim and plans to torture Burke by putting him in it and attempting to take a photo we can use for next year's Christmas cards. Claw City coming our way for sure!

Another bonus? We decided to celebrate Jewish Christmas and go get Chinese food and see a movie with some friends. A fun, low-key way to ring in the holiday the way that Adam used to spend it, before I started dragging him to mass with my family every year. I like that he is always game to celebrate how I would like to, but I also like the opportunity to spend the holiday in a way that is unique to him and his childhood memories of Christmas. This give and take is a fundamental part of any marriage, and I think we have got it down pretty well so far.

In the spirit of filling our time off with fun and productive activities, here are some things we may or may not be doing.

Stuffing wedding invitations
Watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
Cleaning the kitchen
Grocery shopping
Using all the liquor we happen to have in the house right now to make specialty cocktails for the holidays
Feeding our friend's awesome huge orange cat
Feeding our other friend's awesome small orange goldfish
Cleaning the bathroom
Exchanging gifts
Doing Christmas Eve yoga at a friend's yoga studio
Eating cookies people baked for us for the holiday
Playing with Burke using various methods, including but not limited to: shoestrings, laser pointer, balls of tin foil, balled up wrapping paper pieces, tiny toy mice, and a mini football that when bounced plays the University of Michigan fight song
Working on wedding music selections
Blogging
Cooking
Drinking
Exercising using our new workout toy that turns a regular bike into an indoor stationary bike
Enjoying the Chicago holiday vibe all over the city

I realize this post is a little lazy and humdrum. However, I myself am feeling a little lazy and humdrum, so it is only fitting. Happy holidays, y'all. May it be all at once productive, fun, lazy, and humdrum for all!

Sometimes...

...it gets a little tougher than you anticipated. And perhaps you want to scream. And cry. And cry and scream. Basically you want to throw a tantrum, adult-style (is there such a thing?).

It is then that a hug goes a long way. And some perspective from someone who knows you well can pull you out of the darkness and away from the edge of despair. Seeking solace is important. 

It is always a bummer when something you thought was so right, so perfect, turns out to mostly be a rather large disappointment. Picking up the pieces of the broken expectations and placing them on the shelf while you forge ahead into the unknown can be a real challenge. 

Stay strong. Try to laugh your way through it. Realize we are so small in the universe. 

This is not an epic battle. 

It is just a blip on the cosmic radar. Gone in a flash. 

Meet our new pal

This is Burke. His shelter name was Bukowski. Being fans of the infamous drunken pervert poet Charles Bukowski, we felt he was meant to be ours the moment we laid eyes on him.

We had gone to PAWS on a whim late Sunday night exactly two weeks ago. I happened to see that they were having a special 36 hour adopt-a-thon for the holidays, and it was going until 10pm that Sunday night. We had been actively looking online for the perfect feline addition to our lives, but had not actually met any candidates in person. It seemed like a great time to just go and look around. No pressure, no expectations, just a couple of people stopping by the local shelter to peruse the cats for a bit.

We did not expect to fall in love.

There were tons of cats and lots of kittens and many rooms filled with lovely furry friends. We met all kinds of cats and debated between getting a kitten (which is like having a baby in the house) and an older cat who would be more mellow and set in their personality. We decided our ideal pet would be a chill but cute and fun older kitten, 6 months to a year old if possible. There were not a ton of cats that fit that description at the shelter that night. Sure, there were lots of very nice, very friendly cats. But we did not really connect with any of them.

The shelter volunteer told us that when we found the right cat, we would just know. It sounded like what people say about finding a wedding dress. But when I went dress shopping recently, I never really had that moment. I just picked one I liked. So I had mentally given up on the idea that there might be some sort of special moment when you found the right pet.

That is when we met Bukowski.

He was curled up in a basket on a window ledge. I practically missed that he was even there. So many other kittens in the room were jumping and meowing and being cute as hell, but I was drawn to the window sill and sat next to his basket. He woke up just to look at me and nod a hello. I smiled and pet him and he started purring immediately. The volunteer, usually quick to give us the life story of every cat we even looked at, said she did not actually know much about Bukowski, only that he had been asleep most of the day. A definite plus for us, since we were looking for a snuggly, mellow kitten.

I reached into the basket and picked him up to see how submissive he would be. He curled right into my arms and clutched my shoulder, purring loudly. His ears went down and he seemed happy to be with me. I was smitten. I spent a little time with him, then handed him over to Adam. Bukowski sat on Adam's lap in a little ball, still purring. Then he jumped off, digging his tiny claws into Adam's leg on the way. Adam winced, and I held my breath, thinking that that would be the deal breaker. But Adam was not phased. He still thought the little guy was pretty chill and sweet despite the accidental clawing. The kitten walked over to the food bowl and ate for a bit, and then came back and curled up with us for a little longer. He rolled over for belly rubs and purred like a car engine.

It was time to make a decision. It was 9pm on a Sunday night, and we were not expecting to take a kitty home with us that night. But Bukowski was just so perfect for us, and we had bonded quite deeply in a short amount of time. We could not imagine leaving without him.

So the lovely people at PAWS gave us a cardboard cat carrier, a box top and some litter for a makeshift litter box, and some food to get us through the night. We adopted Bukowski and decided to nickname him Burke for short. A few signatures and a quick cat tutorial later, we were driving home with our newest roommate.

It has been two weeks exactly since the night we met Burke. It already feels like we have had him forever. He adjusted to our house quickly and mostly painlessly, and has been a pleasure to have around. Our hearts seem to have grown a little bigger and warmer since bringing him into our lives.

The shelter did not know much about his past--he was found on the streets with ear mites and ring worm, fending for himself. The thought of this sweet, loving, chill little kitten trying to live on the streets alone makes me want to weep. I feel so lucky to have found him and introduced him to the life he deserves--chilling on our couch with us, getting all the belly rubs he desires. Welcome home, Burke. You have already made us so happy the last two weeks. We can't wait to spend many more years with you.

Don't Stop Believing

So my life took an interesting turn about 2 weeks ago. I got a call from a production company I interviewed with over 6 months ago offering me the job of my dreams. I know. It's nuts. I basically wanted this job more than anything six months ago, and was devastated when I was not the candidate they went with. I had never felt more comfortable and sure about a job as I did when I was interviewing for it. I loved everything about the place and the people. I was convinced that I had it in the bag. But then the email came letting me know they had to go with someone else. It was so painful to let go of the image I had of myself working there. I was really looking forward to getting back into the production world. I felt my eclectic skill set would have been fully utilized, and I would have gotten to wear JEANS! It was my own personal paradise. I wallowed in self-pity for a few days, then plugged ahead with the other job leads I had going. I made a point to keep in touch with the production company and even emailed my interviewer asking for advice about finding more production gigs like that one, and got some great leads from him. I reiterated that he should keep me in mind if anything did not work out with his chosen candidate.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. I am about two months into a great new job. It is interesting, moderately creative, and has great benefits. I can tell the culture is not the best fit for me, but everyone is kind and I have a lot of freedom to get my work done on my terms, so I am planning on staying a while. Then I get a cryptic email one weekend. It's from the production gig guy asking if I had time to talk on the phone. My heart skips a beat. I am in shock. Could it be that my staying in touch paid off?

We talk on the phone and he confirms what my heart was hoping. The candidate did not work out and is leaving the position. It is an amicable split so I don't get the feeling she hated the gig or that the place is terrible to work for. She just wants to do something else. And they are desperate to get someone in there as soon as possible. They remembered me because of my thank you card and my emails keeping in touch. They want to offer me the position first before starting the interview process all over again. I am in shock. Stuff like this just does not happen in real life. Only in movies. An amazing production company just called me to offer me my dream job. Of course I said yes. It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

I had to go through the very awkward process of quitting a job you have only been at for two months. My new(ish) boss was shocked. Everyone who I had bonded with already was sad and confused. But everyone could relate to the seemingly fated chance to work somewhere that I absolutely loved. If any of them found themselves in my shoes, they would have dropped everything and ran to daylight as well. So despite it being painfully weird to give notice to my very new employer, I was well-wished and sent on my merry way.

So now tomorrow begins a whole new adventure. I just went through a difficult two month transition to get used to my new job. Now I begin the transition into what I have been calling my NEW-new job. My confidence is high after accomplishing so much in so little time at the last company--let's hope it stays high as I throw myself back into the shark tank once again.

I feel like this is all a dream but it is definitely really happening. I have never been one to fully trust in hard work paying off or the universe guiding you to where you need to be. It is nice to think about, and I try to believe it, but there is always a quiet little cynic inside me saying, "Yeah right, that is all a bunch of crap and you know it. People just get lucky." And I know that often times it is luck that lands people in situations like I am in now. But I also think that when you work extremely hard with only the pure hope that it will get you where you need to be, you will be rewarded. I worked harder for this job than I ever have in my life, and I did not get it right away because it was not the right time. And I was crushed. But it came around still, at an even better time than before. And the things I went through to get to this point all needed to happen to make this the right gig for me right now.

Don't stop trying. Take risks. Shoot for something you aren't sure you can handle. Apply for 10 more jobs than you think you are qualified for. Train yourself on the things you want to be good at, or that you need to be good at in order to get your dream gig. The universe will reward your efforts. And it may not be the direction you ever imagined you would go in, but it is all part of the journey of your life. The adventure is yours for the taking.

I am still reeling from the craziness of it all, but I hope I can inspire people to believe that awesome things really can happen to regular old people like myself. You just need to be ready to dive in when the awesome opportunities come around.

Accidental Statement

So I discovered this a few nights ago. 

Walking out of a restaurant after a lovely birthday dinner with Adam, I spotted this fascinating photo opp. And since I had just received a fancy new digital camera from Adam as a birthday gift, I was on top of it immediately. I took a few different shots and they all came out really weird and interesting due to the "stars" being moderately reflective. Finally I settled on this shot because it was the grittiest. And honestly, that was what struck me most about the shot initially--how ugly and tore up and urban it is. I mean, though we do live in Chicago, our neighborhood is pretty much the most yuppie and quaint little area you can imagine. So seeing this was odd. I found it very out of place. I also found it strange that the American flag would be painted on the side of a dumpster. It seemed like a joke, given the state of the country at this time in history. 

After looking at the picture for a while, I realized that it had other images that suggested a political commentary of sorts. I thought the signs promoting new condos (most of which are left as unfinished eyesores in the neighborhood) were an interesting element in the image--a reflection of the monumental nosedive the housing market has taken in the last few years. Having those cheerful attempts at selling the "American Dream" in the background, while a dirty dumpster painted with the American flag and overflowing with trash looms in the forefront, was an accidental irony that I did not even catch until I looked again.

I just wanted to share the image and my thoughts on what it represents. It was purely an accident that the picture captures the essence of our economic times and the hardships the country is going through at this time. I did not intend for the picture to make a statement, but it certainly does, in my opinion. 

What do you think? 

UPDATE: Dog-gate Scandal!

Oh my gosh. I think I have to start believing in The Secret now or something. I feel like Kevin Costner in the movie Field of Dreams. Seriously. I do.

So a crazy turn of events has occurred. My landlord called my fiance a few days ago to let him know he was coming to fix an electrical outlet. After a pause, I heard Adam's voice raise incredulously as he said, "Really? Wow. That is great news. We are really happy to hear that!" My ears perked and I had a flash of hope that perhaps he was saying something about a cat. But that couldn't be, I rationalized, he already said no and made us sign a lease that said "no pets." I must have been hearing things.


Well guess what? I wasn't! Adam got off the phone and turned to me in disbelief. "He said he has been thinking about the cat situation and even though he already said no, he decided since we have been such good tenants that he would be okay with us having one cat."

I almost screamed. Or maybe I whimpered with glee. Or yelped. Some sort of sound came out as amazement and joy washed over me. We finally get to have a kitten! Something fluffy and fun to keep me company on those lonely winter nights when my usual house buddy (Adam) is in school! And when we are sad or frustrated at work, we can come home to a cuddle with an animal and it will make everything okay again! (Or at least better for the moment. It's true! Science says so!)

This is quite the unexpected change of heart from our otherwise pretty cool landlord--thus proving his true coolness. And I am still in shock. I honestly never thought our landlord might actually rescind his original answer, but I sure had hoped for a miracle. I love the universe sometimes!

Anyway I immediately began to obsess and scour the internet for profiles of rescued kittens and craigslist ads for kittens and websites for ridiculously priced Ragdoll kitten breeders (Ragdoll being my ultimate dream cat but waaaay too expensive to actually spend money on...I think. Ask me in a week and I might crack and decide it is worth it. Ugh! I am terrible, I know). I was almost ready to dive right in and get one this past weekend. But then I pulled my eyes away from the lighted screen of the laptop and came to my senses. This is a big decision that I can take my time with if need be. I don't have to run out and get the first kitten I see that happens to play fetch. Despite that being pretty dang sweet.

So we are now on the official hunt for a kitty. And I can't wait till we find the one for us. As soon as we find one I will definitely show him or her off on this site and share the details of our pet finding adventure. Who knows, maybe I will become a crazy old cat lady (or a perfectly sane but really annoying "girl who always talks about her cat and shows pictures of it doing stupid things"). That could spin this site into a whole new direction!

Don't worry, I promise I won't let it get that bad...

The Dog-gate Scandal

When my fiance and I first looked at our apartment and fell in love with its cave-like qualities, our landlord took us on a short tour of the highlights, which included in-unit laundry, a dishwasher, a great deck, and a free parking spot in an actual garage. This place was stacked! (But dark and a bit dank, hence the whole cave reference above). We were just asking the landlord if we could have pets as we were headed into one of the bedrooms.

"No" was his difinitive answer right before he opened the bedroom door...and the door ran smack into a rather large mesh cage which held a rather large bunny rabbit inside.

"Oh...well, I guess we allow rabbits," he stuttered.

At the time I found it funny, and we agreed to the "no pets" rule since we had no plans to get one and the apartment was a pretty sweet deal in a great neighborhood. I have since retracted that feeling due to some rather interesting events that transpired in the last few months.


Event #1:
I miraculously convince my fiancé that we need a kitty in our lives, despite the fact that we aren't allowed to have pets. This consisted of talking about it casually, whining about it incessantly, guilt-tripping him about it on occasion and finally taking in a friend's cat for a week to show him just how awesome it could be. It worked! He finally agreed it would be fun to have a cat! Less stress than a dog, and soft and cuddly for petting when you're stressed out. Yay.


Event #2:
Our landlord decides to put our home on the market. Lucky for us, it is not selling as of yet and we get the chance to renew our lease again. We decide that since we have been such stellar tenants, and he is selling the place anyway, and there was that rabbit incident and all, we will ask him nicely if we can have a cat. Adam does so and is shot down right away. We are mildly annoyed but understanding of our landlord's stance, and we drop the subject and sign the lease with another "no pets" rule attached.


Event #3:
The upstairs apartment above us had been vacant for a few months (and we were certainly not minding the quiet over our heads one bit). Early one Saturday morning, I walk outside to head to yoga class and see a giant dog in my backyard, along with a huge family that would put the Von Trapps to shame. There are toddlers all over our backyard, smacking our wind-chimes with their tiny fists and climbing all over the flowered trellis and generally being crazy kids. The dog barks and me, and the mother of the brood smiles broadly and says, "You must be the downstairs tenant! We are looking at the apartment up top to rent!" I have a flash of what life would be like below these people--basically like living under a herd of feisty elephants wearing combat boots--and I wonder if she can see the panic in my face. I also make a mental note of the dog's presence in the situation, since clearly no pets are allowed around these parts. 


My landlord comes over and we chat out of earshot from the large family in the backyard. I ask him how many kids they have, and he reassures me that only two are their actual kids, the rest are cousins. (I immediately assume that these "cousins" will be coming over daily, based on their appearance here today. I mean who brings a billion children to an apartment viewing unless these children are around all the time? Am I right?)


My landlord also makes a point to apologize for the fact that he could not okay our request for a cat. I tell him it's cool, we understand he has to do what he has to do. "Although," he adds, "If I end up renting to these people and they have that dog, I suppose you should have the right to get a cat at that point."

I am taken aback. Wait...what? You say no pets, yet might rent to a dog owner in which case then we can have a cat? WTF? I am obviously very irritated with his double standards, but keep quiet. Ultimately, he does not rent to the wannabe Duggar family and my fiancé and I are happier with that outcome than we are sad at the loss of a chance to have a cat. No feisty elephants!


Event #4:
We settle into our "no pets" lifestyle for one more year, knowing that after we get married next year, when our lease is up again, we will make a point to move to a nicer, less cave-like place that allows pets and has nice light. 


Then the new neighbors move in upstairs a few days ago. And I get a text from Adam that says, "I think there is a dog upstairs." I am shocked. I reply with "CAT CITY!" to express my joy at the possibility that we could call the landlord out about this and get him to retract the "no pet" policy for us. Adam sniffs around some more to see if maybe it was just a friend's pooch visiting or something, and encounters the pup sitting at the doorway of the apartment upstairs like he owns the place. He is very well behaved, and we never hear him barking or running across the floor up above. But so far all signs point to yes, our new neighbors have a pooch. Obviously, we are still waiting till we get complete definitive confirmation of this fact before bringing it up with the landlord.


Our plan is to introduce ourselves to the new neighbors and bring them some little welcome gift like a bottle of wine (which we would do anyway, because of course, we are nice neighbors after all) and see if we get invited in and can confirm that there is in fact a dog living up there. If that is the case, then it is ON! 


Kitties of Chicago--get ready! We are coming for YOU!

Little known facts about having a birthday on Halloween

• It is usually really tough to try to have a party on your actual day because everyone else is, also.
• For the first 12 years of your life or so, everyone gives you a present for your birthday--CANDY!
• You are allowed to dress up every year until you die. 
• You are required to dress up every year until you die. 
• You feel obligated to dress up every year until you die.
• You feel wrong and funky when you don't dress up every year until you die.
• People never forget your birthday and then you feel extra bad when you forget theirs.
• You are often asked if you are evil or a witch. 
• You always really really really want to carve a pumpkin each year. It's an uncontrollable urge I can't explain. 
• You often receive Halloween cards instead of birthday cards.
• If you do not receive a Halloween card, you receive 8 copies of the same Birthday-Halloween card that everyone found at Walgreens and felt was really special and unique.
• You feel really old on your birthday because all these kids are running around having fun in the neighborhood.
• There is an intense pressure you feel to make this birthday the most special because there should be so many interesting fun things to do for Halloween. But the weird thing is that usually you end up searching for something to do that night last minute.
• This last minute thing also applies to your costume-creation timing. Which leads to a less than stellar costume. 
• Usually you spend your actual birthday at another person's Halloween party with a few friends.
• Overall, it's pretty cool. Could be worse. It could be Christmas. (No offense, Jesus)

Fish out of water

So today I attended an interesting event where business owners spoke in front of other business owners about what is most important when owning a business. It was interesting overall but the audience seemed to mostly be filled with eager networkers hoping to connect with someone big. There was a hunger that was palpable. You could smell desperation on a few people who even tried to connect with me, only to realize I know nothing and no one that can benefit them.

Speaking of hunger, I just need to throw out there that that I was fed at this event. A lot. First it was sausage and breakfast burritos with homefries for breakfast. Then it was Caesar salad with chicken and rolls, followed by a giant piece of double chocolate cake. Are you kidding me, event people? My future wedding dress body thanks you for a load of nothing.

So once the salads came out and it was time to address which utensil to use, I suddenly found myself reaching for the tiny three-pronged fork resting horizontally above my plate. Luckily, I paused right as my etiquette brain rang a warning alarm. Abort mission! This was not my salad fork! This was to be my dessert fork, when the time was right to wolf down a whole lot of chocolate cake!

Thank goodness I caught myself and found the proper fork to use before the bigwig I was sitting with noticed my incorrect intuition. I already felt like an ass for various self-conscious reasons (including my constant struggles with networking and small talk in general, which were truly put to the test today, let me tell ya). I really did not need to add "formal dining etiquette moron" to the list.

Does anyone else have trouble with such (in my opinion) trivial things that suddenly seem like the most important thing in the world at the time? I mean, as a rule, things like which fork to use just seem like such a waste of time for me to care about. But when it comes to impressing people, especially people I don't know well, I just turn into this uber-concerned, overly cautious and insecure idiot due to things like that. It is such a completely opposite personality trait of mine that only comes up in weird formal situations like the one today, and when it does, I get so furious at myself later for caring.

I did use the small spoon meant for coffee to stir sugar (lots of it) into my ice tea. Does that count for easing up on these rules and not being so hard on myself about it all? I say yes. But mostly just to make myself feel better about being such a tool about things sometimes. It helps...I think.

Those Gourds are Gorgeous!

Finally fulfilling a longtime dream of mine, I bought some gourds today in honor of autumn's arrival.

Gourds, dudes. I got them. I did.

Adam and I had been joking about getting some gourds this season, because that seems to be what people who actually decorate their homes fall back on as a key purchase when Autumn comes along. Everywhere I look, at every store I step into, there are gourds to be had. Big ones, small ones, all in various colors and shapes and levels of pimply-ness. It can be overwhelming for people who are not used to purchasing fall decor, like ourselves.

Today at the Jewel, I spotted an orange net bag of small "polished gourds." And my, were they shiny. And pimply. And divine. It was my chance at last to be decorative for the Fall season. And I pounced. "One four dollar bag of gourds, please." Voila! Instant Autumnal decor!

Truth is, we came home and threw all 5 gourds into this small bucket decorated with pictures of gourds that someone had given us last year. Somehow now it seems like the real gourds and the artistic rendition of gourds sort of cancel each other out, leaving me with yet another lame attempt at decorating gone awry.

I did have a lot of fun running around the house exclaiming "My, those GOURDS are GORGEOUS!" So I guess that makes the whole thing totally worth it.

See ya...wouldn't wanna be ya

Well the last day of work at my old job came and went quietly and with little fanfare. I don't really know why when we finally quit a job, we expect there to be so much more drama or excitement surrounding it. I know everyone feels like they deserve their awesome quit story, but typically people don't all go out like this guy. (However he is definitely my hero.) Really, after the initial shock on the day you tell your boss and various people around the office, there is often not much else to it.

People are surprised (or not) when you tell them you quit, then they ask you about it, then they listen for a few minutes, then they wish you well, then they go back to the report or spreadsheet they were working on before you strolled by. Most likely your presence is filed away in the co-worker memory drawer in their brain, only to be called upon a few years from now when someone shares an anecdote about some joke you made about the fax machine once, and they spend a few minutes trying to remember if your hair was blond or brown. "What ever happened to her?" they will ask. "I don't know. She was a riot though, that one." (At least that is what I secretly hope they will remark about me when I am gone.)

So really, once you shout through the halls that you have officially quit, the rest of the process is often low key and uneventful. I had two weeks to try to leave my carefully disorganized mess of a cubicle as neat and as easy to navigate as possible for the next bright-eyed assistant coming in with high hopes and idealistic dreams. I also had to keep up with my current work load, and my boss decided to throw on a few last minute projects he thought would be helpful as well. Between all these obligations, I had my work cut out for me. While many quitters would have said "F this, I don't need to be responsible for my work anymore, let the next poor schmuck deal with it," I took the time to wrap up loose ends, clear up some issues, and clean up shop a bit. I stayed late a few days, and even on my last day, I was there right up until 5pm, my usual end-of-day time. I even took the time to give my boss the honest feedback he asked for. I was late leaving on my last day because I was trying to find the nicest way possible to define micromanagement while still being eloquent and constructive and not coming off like an asshole. (It was tough, but I think I did okay.)

I had post-work goodbye drinks with a few co-workers the Wednesday before I left at this fabulous river front restaurant and that made my leaving feel a little more real. I was sad that a lot of people I considered good work friends were not able to make it for one reason or another. I know it was nothing personal, just people being busy. But I think if there had been more time for goodbye festivities with some of them, maybe it all would have felt a little more poignant. Even tentative "let's have lunch your last week" ideas never came to fruition, mostly because I had too much to do during the day and never even took a lunch my last week. So the timing prevented a few goodbyes with some people I worked with and really enjoyed seeing every day. The good news is, in my new job I will be located right across the street from my old office. So really, I have no reason to be sad about not having goodbye lunches and drinks with some good folks--I mean I can pretty much have that any time with them even now. So that works.

At the end of the day on my last day at the office where I have set up shop for almost four years, I packed my Jansport backpack to it's fullest capacity with stuff I had kept there, like a pair of old dusty black heels and pictures of my fiance and a pair of purple striped socks and some instant lemonade packets and Halls cough drops and a shit-ton of magnets from all over the U.S. I gave a few hugs. I wrote a nice email and as honest an assessment of my boss as I could while still keeping his desire to be a future reference for me intact. I locked up my cabinets for the last time and I dropped off my ID pass to my buddy in HR. She walked with me out those doors as I left for the last time as an employee. It was a windy day and my backpack was heavy but I did not care. I felt so light, so free, that the wind could have picked me right up and twirled me around.

All Aboard the Stress Express

I have been away from the blog world for longer than usual this last week and that is not very conducive to fulfilling my goal of actively blogging this year. My apologies--both to myself and to all the people kind enough to take a sec and read my stuff over here in the corner. It has been quite a busy week. Between scrambling to leave my old job in some semblance of order for the next poor schmuck and doing some intense over-analyzing of our wedding registry items, not to mention beginning our "wedding invitation creation" process, it has been a full week indeed.

I don't really know what is going to happen in the next six to eight months or so, and I am half happy and half terrified about it. I mean, I am finally leaving the job that has always sort of just been a gig I have to do for money, and going forth into unknown territory. What if I love the new job? Or hate it? Or feel overworked? Or can't keep up? Or what if it ends up being a great place for me? This could be a huge change to my daily life as I know it, and also my career (or lack thereof) as I know it.

And on another note entirely--I chose to have a destination wedding, come what may, because it really does not require a lot of detailed planning. I pretty much won't have a solid sense of what we will do until a few weeks before, possibly even a few days before. I did this for many reasons, one of which was to relieve myself of the stress of planning. But I find that there is a whole new beast clawing at my brain now--the stress of not planning! It's crazy, I know. But somehow, the unknown details are causing stress in their own weird way. Maybe brides-to-be are just programmed to have some sort of anxiety about the whole occasion no matter what they decide to do. Or maybe I am just a spaz. All perfectly good explanations for the stress I feel sometimes.

So anyway things are tense and busy and will be for the next six to eight months and I have no idea what will occur and what will be good and what will go wrong and here I go diving in head first. (But in an actual true- to-life metaphor, I never learned to dive as a child, so I typically end up doing a half belly-flop with my nose plugged. How about that for self-realization?)

So amidst all these changes and stresses and fun and terror, something really wacky happened two nights ago. I know talking about dreams is pointless and all, but here you go anyway:

At 3:30am, I was deep asleep. In my dream, a film crew was making a movie about my mother when she was 30 years old. They were filming my actual mother at her age now (which is somewhere in the realm of retirement age) and going in and photo-shopping her face so that she appeared as she was at 30. She was wandering around a Theatre lobby with a sweet, innocent look on her face, and I knew (like you do in dreams) that she was waiting for some man she liked who was in charge of said Theatre. There were also a few picture frames with shots of my mother set up all around the place with actual pictures I have seen in my home growing up. I was watching it all like a movie, but was somehow part of it too (as is common in dreams). At one point, I was so moved by the scene and my mother's youthful beauty that I started crying. Heaving, shuddering, convulsive sobs came over my body like a thunderstorm of emotion, and I suddenly became aware of myself, aware of my body lying in my very real bed, starting to quietly shake. The shaking turned into that sort of spasm that crying does to you--your stomach clenches and your head thrusts forward like a pigeon's. That was me. In bed. Now sort of awake and crying uncontrollably.

My fiance shook me until I was fully conscious and asked if I was okay. I could barely speak, I just continued to cry and cry the way dumped girls do once they have a bottle of wine to their dome. It was so strange. I mean, when you dream of peeing, your body (well, most people's bodies, anyway) does not actually pee. Or when you yell at someone in your dream, usually people don't yell out loud in the bedroom. That is the beauty of the body while dreaming. You think you are doing all these things but actually your body is on idle mode and nothing is usually happening but REM. So to have been woken up by my body reacting to the emotional response I had in my dream--well it was so unnatural and downright freaky! And I could not stop crying once I got going. I did not even know what I was crying about and all I could do was let it take its course until it passed, which took some time. Eventually I was able to sleep again. But I was definitely unnerved by the whole experience.

Thinking back about it, I realize that I have been playing it as cool as I can with all the things I have going on, and making efforts not to dwell on or think too much about any of it because of my tendency to fret and worry too much about things out of my control. I guess in doing that, I must have been shoving some emotional responses deep down in that gut of mine for safe keeping. Well people, turns out that shit will manifest itself somehow in another way. The energy will be released.

As a wise character named Dr. Ian Malcolm once said in what might be the greatest film of my generation, "I'm simply saying that life, uh...finds a way."

Sunny Side Up!

Guys...it worked.

All my efforts to stay positive finally paid off.

It could also have something to do with the fact that I have been working really hard for seven months now. But that is beside the point. The point is, I stayed positive in the face of adversity and the universe was good to me. It finally gave me the job opportunity I have been waiting for. I have alluded in past posts to the changes coming soon, and I have kept my mouth shut about my hardcore search for a new job. I did (do) not want to blast the infinite depths of the internet with my job search details, because that would just be silly. But I will say that it has been happening for a long while (this whole recession-unemployment business is fact. Securing a job is tough right now!) and I am relieved to report the search is finally over. Yours truly will be done at the current mindless office gig in a little over a week, and will be starting up at a great company in a great role with the potential to be a strategic move, career-wise. (I never thought I would be capable of making those sorts of moves--strategic, career-oriented ones. Go me! Progress!)

Obviously I won't go into detail here about either situation, but maybe when I find myself at a loss for ideas to write about in the future, I will touch on some of the frustrations of job-seeking in this economy (like the fact that I kept getting on the "top three candidates" lists at the places I interviewed, only to ultimately lose out to someone I presume is a cuter, smarter, younger version of myself. Ugh!). The competition is fierce out there, people. You will get the interviews, but ultimately landing the position is tricky nowadays. But my advice is to keep at it! Something will come along. You may have to apply for ten more jobs than you thought you would, but it will be worth it! Promise.

Anyway, I am so relieved to be leaving my old job. I have been disenchanted practically since day one, but it provided a solid place for me to make money while attending massage therapy school at night for a year, while beefing up my admin skills so that I could move on to bigger and better things eventually.
It was supposed to be a means to an end kind of thing originally, and somehow I ended up there almost four years. That happens sometimes, I suppose. Time flies when you are having a fulfilling life outside of a job, and suddenly you realize you are complacent but spinning your wheels. Time to change.

I have experienced this before and I am sure I will again. But the winds of change called to me this year. Or maybe it was the breeze of broke. Either way, I knew it was time to mosey.

So back to the original idea I wanted to express in this post today--I stayed positive despite my hardships while seeking new employment, and literally a few hours after my last, frustrated post, when I was trying desperately to fake the positive, I got the offer for my new gig. How about that? I think maybe I was right--that I needed to counter my usual pessimistic (closeted optimistic) attitude and show a little sunny-side-of-life kind of thinking. It must have helped. I mean it certainly didn't hurt. I will try to remember what happened to me in the last week every time I feel like I am hitting walls while working hard. And then, just when I feel as hopeless as can be, I will take a break to look at myself in the mirror and smile insanely again, maybe run around the house yelling about how positive I am.

This time, I won't go for the tequila shot though. I learned that lesson well.

Keeping on the sunny side

So I just had a bad few hours at the end of work today for reasons too long and unimportant to your life for me to explain to you. Don't ask, don't tell is a good policy for when someone had a long stupid day at a job that is not their passion. Who actually wants to hear about what set you off in a corporate office? No one. No one will really understand because they don't do your job. It is kind of like telling someone about your dreams. It never makes sense and eventually the listener doesn't care anymore and then after telling them all about it, you just feel like a jackass. So that is my long-winded way of not telling you why my day was crappy.

But I will say this--I started this day off thinking about how down in the dumps I have been for quite some time due to unmentionable forces in the universe at work against me lately. And I decided that perhaps the challenge I am facing is actually the universe telling me to change my old ways and respond to crises in a more positive, optimistic, "nothin' gets the best of me and everything just rolls right off my back" kind of way. So today I thought about how frickin' positive I was going to be. I was going to laugh off anything my boss said that was condescending. I was going to grin and bear it when the workload piled up on my desk. I was going to not cuss out the drivers who cut me off on my bike ride to and from work. All this I vowed at 7am this morning.

And you know what? I got through about half my day doing okay at it. Every time I felt the irritation rise up in me (because it does sometimes--like a slow, white-hot heat overcoming my entire core and up into my neck and shoulders), I would stop, think about how not worth it being annoyed was, then break out into a smile or look at something funny on the internet real quick to make me laugh. Then back to work I went. It was great. I was really doing it!

Then the thing that will go unnamed happened. Nothing big. Just something awkward in which perhaps I addressed something innocently and possibly accidentally dug myself into a wee hole. Reactions to this something by other somebodies were not the greatest and kind of made me feel bad. Then I just got angry. And scared. And generally upset that it even happened. And POOF! Positivity out the window.

I realized I had let myself get annoyed again. Drat! Quick, I thought, go back to your breath. That will help! (thanks acting classes. Thanks yoga. Thanks massage) I put my head between my legs at my cubicle and took some big deep inhales. That helped a little. I got through the rest of the day struggling between mildly upset and shaking it all off. I felt like Jekyll and Hyde. It was a little hairy for a while.

Finally, I jumped on my bike at last after a distracted departure from the office. I think I got all my work done I needed to? I will find out Monday I guess. I just needed out. I sped down the Chicago streets until my ears were numb and aching from the crisp autumn winds. All I wanted was home. I repeated to myself that I need to be positive and optimistic in the face of adversity, that that was my problem and why things had been so tough for me lately. I need to be a better person, I thought. No coming home and being a grouch. I would smile through it all! Yesssss! Of course! This is my lesson from the universe!

I got home. I threw open the door. I yelled out loud "I am positive! I am! SMILE!" and I made my face go into a big huge grin and ran around the house like a crazy person, telling myself more stuff in that same vein. I was mad with positivity.

Until I crashed and gave in and decided I needed a little more than positivity to get me through this day. I needed a shot of tequila for some reason. Even though I hate shots. I just figured that something warm and numbing would help the stress I was feeling, both from the day and from my forced happy reaction to it.

So I poured myself a shot, and I got a lime and salt ready, and I licked the salt, and I took the shot-----
and promptly my throat closed in agony at the taste of horrible cheap tequila, and I gagged and spit the entire shot into the sink. I got all the terrible parts of taking a shot without any of the benefits. Awesome. I sucked the lime like I was licking my wounds, disappointed in myself.
I am such a mess that I can't even take a stupid shot correctly?

No wonder the universe is mocking me.


**Might as well post a picture of something that helped me get through today.

Ode to Cribbage

Oh happy card game!
Providing a challenge to my brain
And a test to my math skills!
Always the easy time-passer
Always the relaxing compliment
to any beer
and any conversation;
any sunny afternoon on a porch.
You are the secret strategy I finally get
after years of failures and lucky breaks.
There is nothing like the satisfaction
of a good peg
or a good skunk.
Old friend,
you treat us well, always...
even when the cards don't giveth
but instead taketh away.
Fifteen for two
and the rest can screw.


*If you don't know what Cribbage is, you can discover the wonder here and here. Get on it!

Open Letter to the Guy Scratching Himself Incessantly on the Train This Morning

Listen man. When you are stuck in the tiny compartment section at the front of the train car with three other people in close range of you, it is not cool to start sighing loudly and scratching your arms, head and balls rigorously. It actually makes us really uncomfortable, especially those of us who have been told in the past that "you can get scabies (or bedbugs, lice, crabs, etc) from anywhere, even from just sitting next to someone on the train who has it. It will jump from them to you and then you are stuck with it."

The guy sitting next to you was pretty grossed out, I think. I base this assumption on the looks he gave you every time you started squirming again in your seat and scratching at yourself. It sort of looked like he was smelling something awful and looking at something rotten at the same time. I think he was thinking the same thing I was--that suddenly I was very itchy too.

Based on your behavior--the sighing, the reaching into your pocket for your broken smartphone and putting the loose battery back in and tapping the screen with your thumb as if you had a nervous tic--I hoped perhaps you were just jonesing for a fix or something. Maybe the itching on your arms was in response to the drugs in your blood stream wearing off or something. But trust me, I scoured your body with my eyes for track marks to confirm this and saw nothing. A little dry skin problem, maybe. But no tracks. Thankfully no tiny red marks that are the telltale sign of scabies or bedbugs either. But that still leaves crabs and lice as a possible culprit. So no relief on that front for us stuck in the tiny compartment with you.

I guess we will never know what had you so spastic and itchy today. Unless of course we start feeling the same way in about 24 hours when the bugs have invaded our bodies and lives. Thanks in advance for the special gift you may or may not have given us all today. We're thrilled. Truly.

I scream, you scream

Today while riding my bike down the street in my hood, I had the sudden realization that I was also hearing the familiar tune of the Ice Cream Truck echoing through the summer air. Though they each have their own unique choice of repetitive song (this one happened to be "Do Your Ears Hang Low," or "Do Your Boobs Hang Low" if you have the sense of humor of a 7th grader, like myself), all Ice Cream Trucks, to me, speak of childhood memories and a feeling of nostalgia for simpler times. It is so rare to see them around these days since I have been living in a big city one way or another for over ten years. Most of the places I have lived didn't even participate in Halloween candy-giving, so the chances of hearing the Ice Cream Truck come around were basically zero.

The neighborhood I am in now is probably one of the most family-friendly areas of Chicago, where people know each other well and have block parties and pick up each other's mail and all the streets are lined with lush green trees. My fiance and I are fortunate enough to rent a cheap place here so we sort of live on the fringe of all the homeowner bonding that happens around us, and that is fine by us. But it is really lovely here. If you can see past all the pug dogs and strollers and bored housewives roaming about, you can really appreciate how quiet and simple and friendly it is. And you can appreciate the fact that there is an Ice Cream Truck, really and truly, coming down the street to tempt the little ones with frosty treats. Of course, it's possible that no parent around here actually lets their child partake of the treats, for fear of strangers or molesters or poison or whatever because let's face it, we are still in the city of Chicago, after all. But the fact that the truck has been around our hood more than a few times this summer tells me that there are at least some people still willing to trust and give in to the summer tradition.

So the reason I bring this up is because today, after many other days of hearing the little song floating around the neighborhood in the afternoon, it finally registered with me how lucky I am to live in a big city and yet still have the cute and campy option to buy a little ice cream from the Ice Cream Man if I so desired. I have not had that option since probably twenty years ago. I feel like the Ice Cream Truck just stopped coming around my old neighborhood in my hometown after a certain point. I remember wondering what happened to him because he seemed to disappear while I was still the age where I would drop everything and run into the street to wait for him at the very hint of his song. Maybe our local guy stopped doing it. Or maybe my neighborhood got bad. Who knows. Whatever the case, I missed the Ice Cream Man once he was gone.

There are still a few more days of summer left. I don't want to miss the Ice Cream Man when he is gone come fall and winter. Next time I come out of the egocentric little haze I get into on my way home from work and I realize the truck is coming our way, I will kick off my shoes and run barefoot into the street to wait for the Ice Cream Truck to bring me a sweet summer memory once again. I promise.

Viva Mexico!

I wish I could show off my Spanish prowess by inserting a little upside down exclamation point in front of the above title, but I don't believe my keyboard has that option, which is a shame. Just know that there is a small exclamation point in front of the title in spirit. That will have to do.

Today I dove into the colorful plethora of activities available for people to do in the area in and around Riviera Maya, Mexico. Why, you may ask, did I decide to do such a thing? Well, I just so happen to be getting married there in 259 days, as that bastard super helpful wedding website called theknot.com so kindly reminds me today. Side note: I swear that site makes me sweat with all the options and advice on wedding planning that they provide. While it is awesome to have such a great resource and to be able to use their many checklists and budget spreadsheets and guest lists and stuff, it can sometimes be overwhelming and freaky that they remind you how little you have done and how much more you have to do and how little time you actually have. Cue panic attack.


So anyway I have about 8.5 months before we are walking down the aisle in Mexico. Plenty of time to figure everything out. Today I decided to focus on researching fun things to do. And boy are there a ton of awesome excursions! It's nuts how many adventures you could have there and not even scratch the surface of all this particular part of Mexico has to offer.

You can do stuff like go snorkeling here:


Or maybe you would rather have company while you swim and do this:



Or maybe you would rather stay dry, so you could check this out instead:



Or maybe try this:



Or it might just be worth a good long rest and relaxation session lazing around over here:



Seriously, the possibilities are endless. It is fun to think about what we might want to do on our wedding vacation. I mean, we plan most of the wedding when we get there, so the first few days are probably going to be a little stressful. But once the party weekend is over, we will have about 5-6 days to hang out together for our honeymoon and maybe try some of these neat adventures. I am leaning toward the snorkel caverns (actually called cenotes) and maybe a zipline tour over a jungle. The swimming with dolphins thing is a longtime dream of mine though, so that might have to be worked in there somehow too. At this rate, we will not have a moment's rest on our honeymoon. It is quite possible that we will end up sleeping till noon every day and do nothing but eat good food and relax and have fun being together instead. But knowing us, adventure will call our name at least a few times during our stay in Riviera Mexico.

Maybe all these fun pictures will inspire you to make a trip to Mexico sometime soon yourself! It really does sound like an affordable paradise. That is why we chose it for our wedding in the first place. Of course, we have not ever actually been there. But we have gotten solid rave reviews from pretty much anyone we meet who has been there and finds out we are going. So that is a great sign of the good things to come for our wedding extravaganza.

Viva Mexico mis amigos!

It is amazing to me that I can have an entire lifetime of dreams in between the first time my alarm clock goes off (6:20am) and the last time I hit snooze (6:50am). Entire dramas are played out in my head in that short 30 minute time span. People I have not seen in years visit me. I go on an adventure to my favorite old bar. I lose my skirt and can't find it again. I dance at a night club with thousands of strangers...all in the amount of time it takes me to go from vague awareness of reality to actually getting out of bed.

I think that is pretty neat.

Helpful Tips For Brides in Search of a Wedding Gown

• Just because the dress model in the picture looks like Rachael Leigh Cook from "She's All That" doesn't mean the dress she is wearing sucks. In fact, it could very well be the one for you!

• Never say a firm "no" to any style or cut. You never know what is going to look amazing on you. Hate lace? You could be missing out on something stunning. Rhinestones make you hurl? Take a deep breath and put on the damn dress. Just try it. Maybe you will like it. 

• The dress you have your heart set on might actually look terrible on you and you have to be ready for that.

• The dresses that are ugliest in the photos apparently look the prettiest in real life. And vice versa with the prettiest ones in the photos looking ugly. It is very odd.

• You will feel fat if you are a normal sized person. Deal with it. 

• Never rule out the weird ones.

• There may not be an amazing moment when you "just know." it is the dress for you. This is also true in love, by the way. Sometimes things (dresses, people) grow on you and are comfortable and make the most sense. And that is just as special and rare and should be celebrated too!

• If you can stick to your budget and feel pretty in the dress, that is all you need to feel successful. 

I don't know why I decided I am a worthy person capable of doling out advice for brides. Perhaps because yesterday I FOUND MY WEDDING DRESS and I am excited to share the things I learned in my short little quest. That makes me qualified, yes?

The Burbs

Last night I met up with my very talented Artist friend and her boyfriend to head out to the Barrington Library, where she had an opening for an exhibit of her carnival-themed pieces called Spectacle. I had no idea what to expect. I had to been to art openings in the city for various friends as well as strangers, and they all seem relatively similar--there is usually a table with some info about the artist, and maybe some cheese and crackers and possibly (hopefully) a few bottles of Two Buck Chuck from Trader Joe's or something. Everyone quietly views the pieces and mutters to each other, and the artist stands around awkwardly, making herself available in case people want to talk about her art. I always thought it must be exhausting being the artist in the situation--people come up with the weirdest things to ask you, and you have to just grin and bear it because maybe they will purchase some art or recommend your stuff to someone rich enough to purchase some art. It is a necessary give and take one must do in order to facilitate one's dream to be able to support oneself via one's craft. I get that. But dang that must be tough.

So I go to this thing feeling a bit unsure about what I am in for. Because this is the burbs, people. And not just any burbs. The Illinois burbs. Which I have found to be an extra special kind of weirdness in my few ventures out there.

Well it was definitely different.

First off the Barrington Library rocks! I could not believe how lovely the architecture was! Long wooden reeds reached high into the sky and held up a very tall glass ceiling above the lobby area. There was a cozy fireplace near the magazine area, and a great open space for my friend to display her art exhibit. There was even a very spacious community room where this particular Friday night, a jazz trio was performing for a slew of old timers. The senior citizens munched on free snacks provided by the library, bobbing their heads to the smooth tones of the jazz music. If I was an old lady in Barrington, IL, I think I would take advantage of all the free stuff they offer and hang out there every day. Between my friend's art show and the free jazz music and the tasty hors d'oeuvres, what a classy night a bunch of old timer buddies could have! Also I should mention that I took a moment to peruse the DVD selection near the art exhibit, and was amazed to see they had everything from most recent blockbusters to obscure TV movie disasters like Camp Cucamonga (Jennifer Aniston's finest work, I am sure). If I lived near this library, I would pretty much save tons of money on DVD rentals and never be bored again!

Secondly, my friend's exhibit went swimmingly and she got to be famous with the locals for the night. Everyone loved her pieces (how could you not love this stuff?) and she even sold a few things. So it was a success for sure.

Now for the weird things.

Replacing the wine and cheese were circus peanuts, cookies, and sparkling punch. I realized through this experience that just having a little alcohol available really helps take the awkwardness out of an opening, both for the artist and the art viewers. The missing element was glaringly obvious to me as we all struggled to make small talk with strangers and find the right words to say about the awesome art pieces. Or maybe it was just me, the resident boozer that noticed that.

There were some local weirdos that seemed to have crawled out from under their rocks to join us art lovers for the evening, and their presence made for some interesting moments. One guy fired about seventy questions at my friend while she was clearly in the midst of preparing things for the exhibit, and he barely paused between each one to actually hear an answer from her. After we rescued her from that trap, we watched him move from person to person, cornering them and firing more questions at them in rapid succession. He clearly does not get out much. Then there was the man who just happened to be at the library that night, and wandered over to check out the art, then proceeded to talk at my friend (notice I wrote "at" and not "with") for almost 30 minutes straight with no interruptions allowed. I swear, I read an entire issue of People Magazine while waiting for her to finish nodding while he spoke. She later said she tried to escape to go to the bathroom, and was vocal with him about this need at least twice but he just would not stop. The funny thing is, he was not talking about art or my friend's work or anything related to her show. He was talking about the Bible. The whole freaking time she was there nodding, the guy was spouting about Jesus. Which is fine, you know, when you are not dominating someone's time at the freaking opening of her art exhibit! People are so socially inept sometimes. It shocks me.

So those are some of the highlights of our adventure into the art world in the burbs. The library was truly a treat, the people were slightly off and wacky, and my friend's work was delightful to see on display for all the suburbanites to see. A very fine way to spend a Friday night, indeed. Would have been better with booze, of course. But really, what situation isn't better with booze?

Saying good-bye

Saying it is weird, isn't it? Especially to a loved one who is leaving.

Some people handle it easily, rolling it off the tongue like they are giving directions to a stranger.
Some people linger on the words, repeating them slowly as the realization sinks in for them.
Some people get choked up trying to say it.
Some people get it out, then burst into tears.
Some people whisper it passionately into the loved one's ear as they hug him or her tight.
Some people can't say it at all.
Some people say it and feel the tears welling in their eyes and fight to stop them from pouring over.
Some people never say it and never will.
Some people find another clever way to say it.
Some people just wave.
Some people can only write it down.

I think I have been all these people at one time or another.

I have had the terrible honor of leaving and being left by loved ones so many times in my life I have lost count.

I left for college and said farewell to all I had ever known. My family. My best friends. My then boyfriend who I believed at the time was my true love.
I left San Francisco after two years of getting close to some amazing loved ones.
I was left as one of my favorite buddies I worked with at the Marriott moved back to Utah to go back to school.
I graduated college in Fullerton, CA and a mass exodus of all my peers and myself occurred.
I moved to Chicago and left behind my best friend and a boyfriend I thought I might be with forever.
I was left by one of my favorite Chicago pals as she ventured into the uncharted territory south of the border.
I was left by various old and new friends in the last few years as their incubator times in Chicago finished and they all moved on to the next phases of their exciting lives.

And today, I said good-bye to one of my dearest friends as he ventures on from our tiny corner of Chicago.

It never gets any easier.

Yet remembering that change is inevitable and good for the soul--cleansing even--is so important to do during times like this. All the people you touch during your life will never forget you, and you won't forget them. And they were there for a reason--to pick you up when you fell into a bad situation, to remind you that you are beautiful, to keep you company on those long winter nights, to give you great insight when you needed it most--whatever the case, they came to bring something extra to your life and hopefully to bring great joy to you as well. And as long as you got to relish in that connection for that time, that should be enough to leave you more than pleased when at last the party is over.

Because to have touched a soul like that, and to have been touched by such a soul...well that is truly the most amazing thing. I venture to say that is one of the best parts of this life.

And besides, there is always Skype.com

Top Ten Reasons I Have Not Written Anything Worthwhile This Week

10) Facebook told me I write like Chuck Palahniuk. Then I gave another writing sample and it told me I write like David Foster Wallace. Then I tried again and it told me Cory Doctorow. So I have decided I am too manic in my writing style to ever amount to anything. Then I plopped on the couch to mope and eat ice cream and watch a "Say Yes to the Dress" marathon.

9)  I have been making a concerted effort to exercise every day (see reasons above) and this seems to take up a lot of my usual writing time in the evening between work and dinner. It ain't easy getting less fat.

8) Summer in Chicago. I mean COME ON! Who expects me to stay in all hunched over my computer? I need to be riding my bike and drinking 'ritas on a patio and playing volleyball on the lake until the winter starts to set in, y'all.

7) I was too busy going to IKEA seven HUNDRED times in the last two weeks. (Bad desk legs were bought. Receipts were lost. DON'T ASK.)

6) I was too busy basking in the glow of my impending nuptials.

5) I was busy feeding my goldfish Guppy who should have been dead like a year ago but refuses to give up

4) I read all the other blogs out there and realized I could never compete with http://blog-of-stupid.blogspot.com/. Good night!

3) I felt really bloated

2) I did not remember how to spell "and"

1) My dog ate it.

Wanna experience the closest thing to being me today?

I just thought I would share what my commute was like today. It was like this.

Luckily my bike and I were in sync the whole time and we managed to stay the course.

That is all.

Guys I have been so lazy about writing ever since I got back from vacation in St Louis! I don't know what is wrong with me. All I want to do is laze in the sun with good friends and drink beers and/or margaritas. I think that means I have an acute case of "Summer-itis." And I am not sure how to cure myself...or if I even want to be cured, honestly.

I started writing little pieces for an online community called Examiner.com and I was doing really good for about a month. They claim to pay for your writing and make you open a paypal account and everything, but all I see is like 5 cents in there most days. And sometimes it goes up or down a few cents, which I find hilarious and I can't quite figure out how to get more money out of it yet. What I do know is that my lack of writing in the last two weeks has brought the account down to like -1 cent, if that is even possible. This is not good, folks. I can't owe some random web employer of mine 1 cent. That is ludicrous. I joined this site because I wanted to force myself to write articles and share info with people on a regular basis. Also to get my writing chops up in a venue other than this little corner of mine. And now all I have to show for it is -1 cent in a paypal account. I am doing it all wrong.

Well hopefully I will get back into the groove with my writing and be more disciplined about doing it regularly after calling myself out here and writing about it publicly. This whole self-motivation thing has always been tricky for me, and I was proud of myself thus far. Until this week, when it all fell apart due to my general apathy and numerous social obligations.

Can you blame a girl for being popular? Damn.

I kid, I kid. But now I have to go. A friend of mine is headed over here to grill up some Grouper that was left at yesterday's BBQ extravaganza. (Yep. Someone came with Grouper. And left it in the fridge without cooking it up. Who does that? Everyone else brought effing brats, like a normal person.) Score for us.

I will leave you with this, because why not blow your effing mind for a sec?  Happy Sunday, y'all.

Road Trip

The man and I got out of town this past weekend and headed to St Louis, Missouri for a little change of atmosphere. We just sort of swapped one city for another city, you might say. And you would be correct. However, no city really truly compares to Chicago, in my opinion, so the swap was a bit uneven. But that is what I think happens with any city you visit after living in Chicago for long enough--there are just so many amazing aspects of the Second City, it is hard for any other city to compete. Obviously from that last statement it is clear that Chicago won my heart long ago and I don't think I will ever stop loving it, even long after I am-gulp-gone someday (because let's be honest, it is bound to happen sometime. I'll never afford the property taxes here and we all know it).

But back to St Louis--the other town in this story.

First of all, I want to make it clear that I did not have a bad time. Quite the opposite in fact. We had many options for fun and adventure, as well as a plethora of food and drink choices. We took in a Cardinals game. We climbed up and down the amazing City Museum (which I highly recommend because it was honestly the craziest thing I have ever seen. EVER). We bar hopped and had some of the greatest Spanish tapas dishes ever. We ate some of the best sushi I have ever had at the Drunken Fish. We took pictures of ourselves with the famous Arch and then rode up to the top for a kind of lame really lovely view of the entire city. It was a great time and I felt that the city had much to offer in terms of interesting neighborhoods and surprisingly cool venues.

It was just that the people were so weird. And the customer service in general was so bad. Everywhere we went, I swear. Now I hate making generalizations as much as the next person, but the city really revealed this particular element of itself as our trip went along. It became sort of a running joke with us, which was helpful because that kept it from becoming super annoying and kept us sane through some of the really weird situations.

For instance:

They ran out of hot dogs at the ball game. We had to walk to 3 different places till we finally found a stand that still had hot dogs. And we took the last two. This was only in the 7th inning, folks. Who the hell does not have hot dogs at a freaking baseball game? Seriously? Are we in America? Did you not expect a shit-ton of people to attend this event and request the most typical food item that could be found there? Wow.

We could not get the hotel we stayed at to do a damn thing that hotels typically do for guests. Nothing. The customer service was not even bad. It was nonexistent. I have never experienced anything like that before. And coming from working in hospitality oh so many moons ago, I know how a normal hotel is run and what they can do. Like when the remote control was missing in our room and I called down to ask for an extra one and the front desk said they just did not have any. Complete bullshit. There is always an extra remote in housekeeping, or in another unused room somewhere (even when they are full, there is always an extra room somewhere. Always). Or when we asked for housekeeping to come clean after they seemed to ignore us for a few days, and we came back to find only our bed made and our old towels taken away. No replacement towels. No fresh cups. No new soaps or anything.

No one at the hotel knew how much the bus fare was for a bus that stopped right outside the hotel. No one had a schedule for said bus route. Any beer on the menu at the "bar" (more like a sterile-looking counter in the lobby) was not available. Why did we even get a menu for said beer? God (and the rude bartender) only knows. When we asked if we could order off the menu at breakfast time in the "cafe," we were informed that nothing on that menu was available either, and that the old cheesecake in the glass case was all they had. These are just a few of the highlights. There were plenty of other little annoyances that were pretty wacko while we were there.

The shocking thing to me was just the lack of alternatives offered, you know? Like okay, if you don't have that beer, or that one, what do you have? Or even better--okay, if the tram to the Arch broke after we waited in line for an hour for a ticket, what do you suggest we do? Wait it out? Try another fun activity nearby? It is okay that things don't always run smoothly or you are out of something we wanted. Just apologize and offer some ideas of how we can get something else. Like normal freaking customer service people. It was the apathy and sense of indifference that was so shocking to me. I have never seen so much of it in one vacation in one location.

Eventually, we became accustomed to having to go to the internet to get the answers we needed from the hotel. Eventually, we figured out the bus system ourselves. Eventually, we went to the cafe down the street to eat breakfast that was not cheesecake. Eventually, we found a hot dog. We managed to navigate the city ourselves using a little improvisation, a little ingenuity, and a whole lot of "I think this route will get us to an area we will enjoy." And ultimately, we did just fine.

So St. Louis, it was real, and it was fun. And it was even real fun. But next time? Give me my damn remote control so I can watch bad TV on my vacation without having to get up from the bed. (I also happen to think this is a metaphor that sort of encompasses the feeling of the entire trip. Think about it.)

We Don't Have to Move! Huzzah!

A while back I wrote about some big changes coming around the bend. Well we just got word that one of those things will not be happening, and I am sure from my gleeful title of this post, you can deduce which one it is.

Yes, folks. We don't have to move in a few months from our beloved cave-like apartment. Adam talked to our landlord a few days ago and he suggested we sign a lease for another year! We were worried that since the landlord is trying to sell the building, we would either be kicked out or forced to go month-to-month until someone bought it and then kicked out. And all this right before Adam heads to Grad school. And of course, right before our wedding. But no, the landlord sees us for what we are--a commodity for people who would like to buy the building we live in and rent the bottom while living up top. What a great selling point if the buyer has no need to look for renters. There will already be two stable, easy-going people happy to stay in the crusty downstairs apartment for one more year. Win-win for all.

Now the only thing we have to work on is finding a way to get our landlord to let us have a kitty. After much discussion and debate, I have finally convinced my ever-compromising and loving fiance to give in and allow a feline into our lives. It took a while, and consisted of a lot of whining and even a little batting of the ole' eyelashes, but all my bugging him paid off and he agreed at last that having a low-maintenance furry companion would be fun and it would also keep me company when he is at school and work all day/night for the next 3 years. The problem is, we have a "no pets" clause in the lease...for now. I am optimistic that we can convince our landlord to make an exception. I mean, come on. We are the greatest tenants a landlord could ask for! We are responsible, polite, and don't trash the place. What more could you want in a renter?

And besides--when we were first looking at the apartment before we rented it, the landlord was showing us around and mentioned the "no pets" thing...right before opening a bedroom door and bumping into a huge cage with a rabbit inside.

He seemed only mildly surprised, not angry, and mumbled, "Well I guess we allow rabbits now. So only rabbits, I suppose." We all laughed awkwardly and moved on.

So this experience has totally convinced me that with the right tone and finesse, we can definitely win him over to our side. Plus, he is selling the joint anyway, so what does he care? We have a legitimate shot at this, guys. I can feel it. Though I do have a track record of being a little too optimistic at times. But this is different! (I think)

Overall, us not having to move during such a stressful time is way more important than getting a cat. So I could put up with one more year of being pet-less.

I can also put up with the apartment I lovingly call "the cave" due to it being on the ground floor with very little light unless you open all the front windows and allow all of my neighborhood to view whatever we are watching on TV along with us. I can put up with it's darkness and all the cracks in the doors that make winter unbelievably cold. I can put up with the shower that has a layer of black grime from many years of neglect from long before we came along, and refuses to look clean. I can also put up with the rattling heater and air conditioner attached to the upstairs apartment that happens to be located right next to our bedroom for some reason. And I can put up with the weird bugs I find from time to time. All this is what we like to call character. And it certainly beats moving. (Don't most things in life beat moving? I mean really.)

Having a Great Day

Having a great day in the summertime is such an amazing feeling. Think about it. There is a spring in your step, the sun is shining bright and warm on your skin, and a stupid perma-grin stretches your face muscles to their maximum capacity. All in all, you have that burning fire of triumph or pleasure running through your veins with no way to stop it. 

There could be a number of reasons your day suddenly went from zero to hero. Maybe you stumbled upon an awesome pair of shoes on sale. Maybe your best friend called and made you laugh so hard you started that habit of snorting while laughing again. Or maybe you just had a great meeting with someone who has the potential to enrich your life in some way--a new friend, a job interview, a cute boy on the train...whatever the reason, that feeling of shouting to the sky "today is great! Get this one in the books as fan-freaking-tastic!" has come over you. Relish it. Bathe in its electricity. Take a pause, take a breath, and be present with it right in the moment. Examine it for all its complexity and appreciate it.

Because let's be honest. These moments are sometimes few and far between. Life can be a tough place to live. Sounds silly but it is true. Work and love and family and financials can sometimes be a real bummer. Death happens. Pain happens. Chances are missed and opportunities pass you by. That is the reality of many of our days.

But then there are these days. The days where everything seems right in the world. Where you find yourself standing on the brink of what could be something really great (which in my opinion is sometimes a more fabulous feeling than the actual great thing itself--am I right?) Possibility days, I'll call them. These are the times that will help pick you back up and yank you through the bad times and keep hope alive in your heart. Even if it's just a pair of sale-priced sexy red pumps, the moment of excitement and possibility is real and powerful. May we all cherish it. 

I am having a day like that today, for a simple reason that is not important. What is important is the fact that I am allowing myself to be ecstatic and ride the wave of emotion I am feeling. It feels good to feel good about this life. I rode my bike down the beautiful, tree-lined streets of my amazing Chicago neighborhood, and the breeze kept me cool as I went. I got home to my cozy cave of an apartment and I threw open all the windows to let the summer air flow through the rooms. I am about to make some delicious lunch for myself and relax on a gorgeous Friday afternoon (these great days often happen on Fridays for me--something about the feeling of possibility associated with a Friday, I guess, when you are on the brink of the weekend). All is well and I am happy and excited about what comes next for me.

The funny thing is, this is such a different feeling from how I felt just a few days ago. I was deep in Funkytown (not the fun 70's kind). But sometimes funks happen, and it is important to also allow yourself time to wallow in the funk--though not too long or it can be counterproductive. 

May we all have the grace and strength to recognize that these intense swings of mood are all a part of the beast and beauty of life. Embrace them all. (But especially the great days. Those you want to hug a little tighter.)