friendship, blogger meetups, and more pies

There are some friends that don't notice the passage of time. You get off of the plane, take a taxi to their house, and settle in on their couch as if it was yesterday that you were cackling over the latest bit of law school gossip or groaning with the latest legal research assignment. At one point I wondered aloud how it could be that even though months pass between seeing each other, we are right back to where we were. My friend said perhaps when some of us have children, then and only then will we see our relationships as different.

It was a lovely weekend, filled with laughter and good food and tinged with the sadness and inevitability of change- some good, some terribly sad, some exciting and new. We should all regularly schedule girls' weekends, they are good for the soul.

In a brief sojourn from shopping, chatting and eating, I met up with Angry Pregnant Lawyer, Mystery Mommy, and their two adorable sons. I usually have moments of nervousness as I ready myself to meet another blogger, but with APL and MM, I felt as if I was meeting old friends. The nerves were pleasantly absent, and although our conversation was punctuated with laughs from funny things Angry Boy (who isn't angry at all, but sweet and scrumptious) and Muffin Man (who is tall and thin, witty and precocious) said, we talked about jobs and kids and school and anything that came to mind. The time went by far too quickly, and now I wish that Boston was closer to Washington DC so that we could get together more often! I'm so grateful for the opportunity to meet such lovely, funny and intelligent friends!

Now I'm back in frigid, frozen Boston and after listening to Josh's descriptions of Texas weather, I'm starting to wonder why I insist on living in the New England. I love the fall and all, but my fingers may have lost feeling for perpetuity.

About the soccer tournamen- I haven't been able to get a picture of Josh in his "inappropriate shorts," but I did manage to smuggle some pictures of Josh getting hit with pies by his classmates. Enjoy!






I couldn't be prouder.


















He's mine, ladies, all mine.

pies and indecency

Josh's MBA program has a soccer team on which he happily plays. Now, while I'm very pleased that he enjoys playing soccer, and gets good exercise doing so, there are times when I'd like to fling the soccer ball out of the window of a moving car. These moments are generally when he has spent the entire week in class, the entire weekend studying hard for some class/test/project, and then he has an intramural game in his two hours of free time.

This happens ALL THE TIME.

For the first half of his first semester, I told myself that the soccer season wouldn't last that long. I could certainly take over the bulk of cleaning the house, paying the bills, taking care of the dogs, running all the errands and working full-time, because he really loves to play soccer. I could sacrifice. Take one for the team. But at some point in November, I realized that one of two things was going to happen- I'd either lose my mind, or end up killing him. So we sat down and had a talk, and decided that he was going to have to set aside a little bit of time to help me around the house. After a couple of weeks of never having the time to even look at my lists of items that needed to get done, Josh decided that between studying and occasionally having a social life, he didn't have time to play soccer.

His teammates were displeased with his choice, to say the least. They actually came to him in the library and got down on their knees to beg him to play in X game, or Z tournament. He declined, mainly because I believe he'd finally seen the desperation in my eyes. Thank goodness.
Over winter break, far from the stress of school and exams, he reevaluated his stance, and told me that he thought he could do it all in the spring semester. He campaigned for these few weeks off, assuring me that because he now knew what to expect with school, he'd study in less time, have more time to spend with me, and would have enough time to play soccer. With his newfound vision, he signed up to play in a Texas soccer tournament this weekend.

And then the crazy soccer practices were scheduled. At 10pm on a Tuesday night. Both Saturdays and Sundays from 2-4pm. Every Thursday at 8pm. I was ready to cry. All this in addition to the fundraising for their trip. He sold raffle tickets, attended fundraising parties, went to planning meetings. Sigh.

As an aside, when I told all of this to my neighbor, she put on a sad face, pouted and said, "oh no! I forgot my violin!"

Last weekend the practices and raffle ticket selling and planning activities reached a crescendo, and when he rushed me out of my inlaws' house in the Berkshires, and then rushed me out of my neighbors' brunch because of practice, the desperate look returned to my eyes. When he left for practice he pledged- just one more week of this.

So yesterday, while I was lying in bed sick, he was getting a pie flung into his face by paying classmates at the MBA fundraiser. I did have a hearty laugh when he brought home his uniform for the tournament. The uniform that is AT LEAST one size too small for him. So small that he simple cannot wear it. Suffice to say that the shorts are tight enough to be indecent. I wish I could be in Texas to see it.

This afternoon I am off to a girls' weekend (well, girls' weekend with two male pooches) and some blogger meetups. Next week, I hope, my life will be returning to the insanity that it usually is, minus crazy soccer practices and fundraising.

sick days and staying home

When I was little, my mom would never deny a request to stay home. As soon as I said that I didn't feel well, or made up a reason why I couldn't go to school, she'd cheerily start in on her speech: "okay, you can stay home, but no television, no fun, no leaving the house, no getting out of bed. You can read, but no fun food, only soup and crackers." It usually took only half of the speech before I'd decide that school might be more fun. My mother trusted me if I said that I didn't feel well, but she wasn't about to let me enjoy it.

This lesson has carried over into adulthood. I rarely stayed home from classes in college or law school, and thus far I've taken two sick days from work. One a few months ago when I could barely crawl out of bed with bronchitis, and today, when I was up all night with stomach issues. Both times, I stayed in bed all day, placing my computer in line with my vision and checking email periodically.

I'd never have thought this would happen, but I missed work today. Laying on the couch and working didn't hold the allure I thought it would. If I hadn't felt so sick all morning and afternoon, I would have gladly come in, just for the mental stimulation and company. The pups liked having me home, but between one climbing over my arms and the other insisting on sitting on the computer, it wasn't the most comfortable working situation. I was productive, though, and I didn't have any fun.

I guess those speeches really did sink in after all.

unbearable and frustrating niceness

My mom jokes sometimes that she spent far too much time on the "nice" side of my personality, and not enough time on the "stick up for yourself" side. This has resulted in my almost total inability to talk back to people or return rudeness in the face of inappropriate behavior. To put it mildly, this sucks.

I lack the gene that would allow me to come back with an equally snide comment when someone behaves badly. Rather, I get shocked into silence. For some reason, every time a person (especially someone close to me) does something nasty or mean, I am surprised and stunned. I cannot tell you how many wasted hours of my life were spent revisiting a certain scene or conversation, with the perfect response on the tip of my tongue. I'll plan out what I'd say to the offender in my dream argument, but I'll never confront them again. I eventually just let it go.

There are moments when I think this is the better way to live, because in truth, on the few times that I have thought of a response in anger, I end up feeling guilty for hours later, even though logically I know that my answer was provoked. Besides, my extraordinarily angry comments would likely be on the meek end of the scale. I worry far too much about hurting the other person's feelings, and not enough on protecting myself.

When I have been on the tail end of another rude or hurtful statement, I curse myself for not talking back. I am a responsive and intelligent adult- I should be able to give it back. If I were to tell you that I plan to take a trip to Alaska, and your response is that Alaska is the stupidest place to go and that it is a waste of time and money for anyone to go to Alaska and you cannot believe that anyone does it- shouldn't I respond? Shouldn't I be able to say that your comment is rude? So why don't I? I'll just stare at you, again in shocked silence, and then stew in private. Obviously, this is just an example, but highlights the ridiculosity of my inability to speak up.

Do you think this is something you can learn? If so, I need lessons. I'm not sure if I can keep up my policy of distancing myself from people that hurt me. It works, but it takes so much effort. If only I could point out the rudeness, it would be far easier.

and rain will make the flowers grow

Since I cannot be in Paris this Spring, I opened up a bit of Paris into my heart last night. If you'd been here, you would have seen me silently singing along to Les Miserables at the Opera House in Boston. As with most things French, I adore Les Miserables. Never has a musical touched my soul in the way these songs do. I felt myself shivering with goosebumps as Javert hung off of the bridge over the Seine, or when Eponine walked in the dark seeing the trees full of starlight. I can envision myself climbing up onto the barricades, or waiting to hear news of those students in battle.

I've seen Les Miserables a number of times, starting from the age of 13. With surprise, I've noted that each viewing brings a connection to different characters. I identified with Eponine as a child, now my heart beats along with Cosette and Marius. My mother identifies with Fantine's songs for her daughter. I suppose it is a reflection of the stage you are living in.

I took Josh to see it for the first time a few years ago, and when one of my dearest friends told me she'd never been, I jumped at the opportunity to see it again. It is a bit silly, considering that I could sing you the musical from start to finish, but I still find myself breathless as the gunfire starts. Even a cold that forced me to blow my nose through applause and loud songs couldn't keep me away.

I hope one day I'll be able to pass along my love of musicals to a child or children. I suppose in those moments my character identification will shift again, perhaps to Jean Valjean. For the first time, I found myself tearing up at his sorrow over Cosette's new love.

She was never mine to keep.
She is youthful, she is free.
Love is the garden of the young.

Heartbreaking. Isn't that the hardest part of having a child?

For the rest of today, I'm sure that I'll be in my office humming the tunes. Do you hear the people sing?

show and tell: close up

I made my monthly trip to Costco, three weeks ago, and discovered that they were selling a vase full of tulip bulbs, resting in water. The tulip bulbs had just sprouted and were only 2 inches high. The sign in front said that they would provide weeks of cheery growth, and hey! Who am I to turn down cheery growth?

Three weeks later, my two inch sprouts have taken a turn for the best.






Please ignore the mess.












Per Blackbird's request, here they are Up Close.















My other sources of cheer, and especially, laughter.





As "up close" as you can get with squirmy dogs.




















Happy Thursday!

organizing the world: one closet at a time

Sunday morning, I woke up to breakfast in bed (omelets and toast) and the weather outside looking like this:





From my bedroom window.









And this:




At the front door.














I wasn't anxious to change out of these...



so I decided to undertake a project I've never done before- cleaning out my closet. Never. Not in college, not in law school, not when I moved into this house. Never.


Umm, no one told me that it would be that painful.






Everytime I go to purchase a new shirt, pants or shoes, Josh is quick to remind me that I have a LOT of clothes. Each and every time, I deny this, because really, it isn't that much!

Except, umm, turns out it is.






Damn, that is a lot of clothes.













Lots of sweaters, too. I'm not sure why I never wear sweaters to work.







There was a rather pressing need for the closet to be emptied, and that was an impending closet remodeling, per the Container Store's Elfa Closet System. See?




It may not look like much, folks, but this is going to change.my.life. I have faith.







I've been promised a complete remodel this weekend. I'll take pictures.

In the meantime, though, DAMN, do I have some ugly clothes.

I filled up one HUGE black garbage bag with pants that were too small. Ahem, because they shrunk. Not because I weigh 20 pounds more than when I got married.

I also came upon winners like these:


HOT DAMN. That is a bright dress. I wore this from high school through law school. I'm still wondering why no one told me to give it away 10 years ago.












Additionally, why didn't anyone tell me that you shouldn't wear skirts that are less than 3 inches in length?


I won't even tell you what I looked like when I tried this on to see if it still fit. The picture makes it look significantly longer than it actually is. I wore it, too, many times.






It almost pained me to give this dress away, because in theory, it was so cute.




I say, in theory, because in reality, I looked like a hooker.







An island hooker, to be exact.




My closet is now a full black garbage bag emptier, and Josh told me to think of it as making space for new clothes to join the family. That cheers me up marginally, but the 20 empty hangers are calling to me. I'm sure my new Elfa closet system with pretty shelves and hangers and the possibility for me to actually see the clothing I own will also cheer me up. The scented liners should help too.

If not, I can always blame Josh.

happy valentine's day!

Valentine's day is probably my least favorite holiday, for a number of reasons.

1. In elementary school, everyone would count out the valentines they'd received, and then compare. Someone always felt sad about it, and that breaks my heart.

2. I went to an all-girls' high school, and it became this horrible popularity contest to see who would receive the largest or most unique gift during school hours. It got so out-of-hand that by my junior year, the administration refused to deliver the flowers, cookies, stuffed animals, etc. anymore during the day, and would announce a LONG LIST of students in the end of day announcements, and those students would then line up outside of the front office to receive their items. It was out of control. Those announcements would sometimes take 10 minutes, and my school was really small. About a total of 300 girls. This way, all the tears and dramatic episodes would be saved for outside of the classroom. Fun, huh? I had a boyfriend for most of my high school years, but I still found the holiday to be horribly cruel to many of my friends.

3. In my freshman year of college, there were girls in my dormitory that cried (CRIED!) because they hadn't received flowers or gifts from significant others. My next-door neighbor even cried because her roommate received BIGGER flowers than she did. People, these girls had real problems.

4. The things I love, like flowers and chocolates, get marked up to twice their price, at least! I've forbidden Josh from ever buying flowers on Valentine's day because it makes me so mad.

I've seen so many people feel sad or mad or bad because of Valentine's day, that it makes me dislike this holiday, even though the notion of a holiday that is all about love is nice.

Before you start thinking that I am a total grinch, we are still going out to dinner, and I still got Josh a tiny little something. I figure he can play with it while we are on vacation. I'm also considering getting him this, but it seemed rather large, don't you think? I received a photography course called Introduction to Digital SLR Photography! Surprise! Surprise! I may not like the holiday, but I don't pass up an opportunity to give and receive gifts. ; )

May your Valentine's day be full of love (and flowers that are bigger than your roommate's/friend's/classmate's)!

snowy thoughts

1. I just finished reading Memoirs of a Geisha, and folks, I'm more than a little disappointed. I know, I know, it is shocking. If you haven't read it yet, go ahead and skip to #2, because this could be a spoiler. First of all, I cannot believe that I read the whole book thinking that it was based on a true story or a true character, and it is NOT. Second of all, I disliked the main character tremendously. I spent the first half of the book feeling sorrow for her plight, and the second half thinking her terribly self-centered, manipulative and heartless. Third of all (gotta keep the "of alls" going once I've started), the ending seemed to me to be a cop-out. We start out introspective, examining the feelings of the different characters, and yet the end is focused only on this neatly tied up scenario. Are we to assume that Nobu, a man that was incredibly generous and perhaps saved her life, has never wondered what happened to her? Does he never find out about the Chairman? The characters seem so concerned with the lack of kindness shown to Nobu throughout his life, but then toss it aside when convenient. The imagery and glimpse into Japanese culture I liked. The plot? Hrumph.

2. I picked up The Historian at Barnes and Noble this weekend, and although I am only on chapter 7, I feel confident in telling you to RUN don't WALK to get this book. I didn't even turn on the television yesterday, so intent was I on finding out more about the story. History and intrigue and spookiness! So far, I love it.

3. Josh and I are in discussions as to whether a "regular person" benefits from having a camera as high-tech as the Nikon D-70 or the Canon Digital Rebel. Do any of you own one of these? Josh says that if I really want one, I should take a class. Tell me he's crazy.

4. Josh had classes cancelled today, and the jealousy is KILLING ME SOFTLY. He took me to breakfast this morning, but still. I should be home reading. Or playing with the dogs. Or pulling up bathroom tiles.

5. I cleaned out my closet for the first. time. ever. in my life, but I forgot the camera at home. I'll share the pictures later tonight. Fascinating, I promise.

meme for content

I owe a couple of memes, and I'm all out of blog content for today, until I tell you about how I reorganized my front hall closet. Try to keep your excitement to a minimum, please.

10 Random Facts about Halloweenlover:

1. My feet and hands are always cold. ALWAYS. Even in the dead heat of summer. Hence, the sock discussion.

2. I hate being hot. I get all flustered and frustrated and furious at the hot weather, and then I get all sweaty and upset that I'm sweaty. I need to move back to San Francisco for that reason.

3. Our new car is the first time I've ever owned or regularly driven an automatic transmission. I learned to drive on a stick shift, all of my parent's cars were stick shifts, and every car I've owned since then has been a stick shift. In our new car, a couple of times, I accidentally slammed my foot down HARD on the brake because I thought it was the clutch. It is a wonder I haven't been in an accident.

4. My nails and hair grow at astonishing rates. It really is remarkable. I think it is the fat in my diet. God bless the fat.

5. I stopped eating meat in July, and I haven't missed it at all. I do occasionally eat sushi, because I might die of a broken heart if I could never have a caterpillar roll ever again, but I sometimes can't believe that I haven't craved meat at all. I also stopped having daily headaches when I stopped eating meat. This leads me to believe that I might never go back.

6. I am VERY unathletic. Very. In elementary, junior high, and high school, I played a variety of sports, and sucked more at each and every one of them. I caught one ball in the two years that I played soft ball. Between my knees, after it missed my glove.

7. Despite being terribly unathletic, I got a hole in one my second time ever playing golf.

8. I haven't set foot in a gym since two years from last Thanksgiving. I am vaguely ashamed of this, but too lazy to do anything about it.

9. I always start magazines backwards (back to front). I occasionally try to make myself read them front to back but it stresses me out.

10. People laugh at the things I say a lot. Even when I don't mean them to be funny. It is a little bit unnerving.

Anyone else haven't done this one yet?

coincidences

Last week, a partner walked into my office and offered me 4 tickets to that night's Celtics game that he couldn't attend. I called Josh, and with my favorite work friend, BigSlowGirl (I did not pen the name, it is what she calls herself), and her husband, Mr. FancyCancerDoctor, we headed out to enjoy the basketball game. I was a little bored, and BigSlowGirl and Mr. FancyCancerDoctor and I began regaling each other with stories of interesting characters or famous people we either knew or had met at some point in our lives. In the course of the conversation, I told them about one of my favorite law school classmates, a man that had been in my first year small group of about 15 people. He had come into law school as a second career, which we subsequently discovered had been as a multiple Tony-winning Broadway director.

He was a real character. Interesting, funny, with just the right amount of cynicism about law school and its importance in the world. He also loved dogs, and we bonded over his new puppy. He invited Josh and I to his apartment, where we admired pictures of him with assorted celebrities and played with his three pound pooch. He decided before the end of our first year that law school wasn't the place for him, but I emailed occasionally to keep up with his busy life.

In one of those rare and strange coincidences, on the recommendation of a couple of my favorite bloggers, I've been reading articles by Wendy Wasserstein and found her heartwrenching description of her daughter's birth and eventual homecoming. Halfway through the article, Wendy Wasserstein mentioned the name of one of her friends. Her friend happened to be my old classmate, Gerald Gutierrez, the famous director. It became clear that they'd been exceptionally close. Wendy Wasserstein even referred to him as one of her "husbands" in interviews.

I haven't spoken to Gerry since law school, so more than 3 years ago, but I decided that I would write to him to extend my sympathies. We'd once talked about how hard it had been for him when his mother passed away not long before his enrollment in law school, and even though it had been a while, I wanted him to know that I was sorry that he'd lost such a special friend. So I googled him, and found out that he died. A year ago, from complications from the flu.

I'm shocked, of course, a little disbelieving, but most of all, I'm so sorry to hear that the world lost this wonderful person. And I'm just sad that I hadn't talked to him in so long and that I didn't know. I'm so sorry for his family and friends, as well.

things I have learned about superbowl parties

1. Boys watching a football game will not eat the beautiful baby spinach with dried berries salad you lovingly put out for them.

2. They will eat undercooked buffalo wings, though.

3. Boys do not like it when the only two girls at the party sit on opposite sides of the room and talk loudly over the commentators.

And, most importantly...
4. Boys do not like it when the dog licks the inside of their Planter's canister of roasted and salted peanuts.

somehow, i doubt you'll be shocked by this

Blackbird's show and tell for this week is purses, and rather fitting because my favorite purse is a source of great excitement and pleasure for me. I only use it in the spring and summer, but looking at pictures of it makes me happy happy happy, and for some reason these days the gloomy weather and my long work hours are making me sad sad sad. Stupid yucky weather and depressing seasons. Hrumph.

Anyway, I purchased this purse as my splurge when I began working at the law firm in New York and felt woefully inadequate in the fashion department (still do). I happened upon an article describing Kate Spade's pairing with Maira Kalman (who, by the way, has the cutest stuff ever). Kate Spade and Maira Kalman were getting together to make purses, accessories and assorted items with (gasp) DOGS ON THEM. You can imagine my excitement.

I called a friend who was working at Saks Fifth Avenue in their hoity toity private shopping department and asked if she'd sneak a bag out for me with her employee discount when they hit the stores and she agreed. Still, even though I purchased the smallest size of bag they carried, and even with the 40% off discount, I felt rather ill for days and kept threatening to take it back while Josh told me to stop being a nutcase.

But, I kept it. And I love it. Because it is SOOO MEEEEEE.



Look! It is me walking Tango or Murray!







And Look!


It is a picture of Tango looking like the angry old man that he is trapped in a dog's body.


See the resemblance?





This is his damnit-throw-the-toy-for-me face.

And then, I loved the purse so much, and the dog carrier that we used every time we traveled to visit my parents in California or Josh's parents in Florida BROKE after a year of use and I happened upon the following on super clearance end-of-season sale:







(I hope Neiman Marcus does not come after me for copying pictures from their website- eek)








That is how Tango and Murray came to own a purse more fashionable than mine. That is their dog carrier, and I love it. The handles are RED! and there is another picture of a dog on the other side. Makes it harder to smuggle them into restaurants like I used to, but that is a story for another time.

does this mean we're going to get the seven year itch?

Seven years ago today, Josh and I started "officially" dating. In a rather awkward conversation that still makes me smile, Josh asked whether I'd like to be his girlfriend. And I said yes, and the rest is history. Well, except for the three times we pseudo-broke up, but I'm apparently not allowed to write about those. My husband says that it is a time he'd rather forget, because he "behaved badly, and is sorry for it." Isn't he the cutest?

He really didn't behave all that badly, he was just young and kept bringing up conversations to let me know that he wasn't sure whether he wanted a serious girlfriend. Understandable, no? I eventually put my foot down after three talks on the subject and told him that I was done with the ups and downs. It took him two weeks of life without me before he decided that he too was done with the ups and downs. That was over six years ago. I'd say he's forgiven ; )

After we'd been dating for a while, I had a conversation with my dad where he told me that he thought my personality was changing. As a child, he said I'd always been waiting for something, looking forward to something. He said it worried him because I wasn't living in the moment or enjoying the present as much as he thought I should. Around the time I met Josh, I just stopped doing that. Who knows whether it was a change that would have come about on its own or not? But with him, I could enjoy exactly what we were doing, without looking much to the future or the past.

I didn't worry about getting engaged, it just happened. I didn't stress about a wedding date much (although I did stress about the wedding itself), we just picked the date. We made the decision to move to New Haven fairly easily, the decision to move to New York on a whim, the decision to move to Boston without much fanfare. We both enjoyed the stage we were in- dating in college, dating long distance, engaged, married, and eventually married with dogs.

Occasionally people asked about children, but it wasn't in our plan yet. I'd shoo them away with the assurance that I wouldn't have children until we'd been married five years at least, and frankly, I didn't think about it much. We'd talk jokingly about names or how many kids we'd have, but we were both content that it wasn't the right time.

For the last year, I've loved the changes that have taken place. First, Josh stopped traveling, then he started school, I started a new job, we enjoyed home ownership. It has been a fantastic year, with travel and wonderful friendships and good health. I've mentioned before, there isn't much more I could want.

Recently, however, that has changed. Maybe it is seeing a few of our friends with their new babies. Perhaps it is the new stability that living in the same city brings. It could be the flexibility my job offers and the happiness I feel at having found a good place to work. All of a sudden, there is a tug in my belly, a feeling I can't describe. If I had to guess, it is that I'm waiting for something.

I'm almost afraid to talk about it because of this irrational fear that I already have so many blessings in my life, what if you can't have it all? Silly, I know, but that is what keeps me up at night and makes my heart race if I think about it too much. Well that, and how much a baby would change our lives.

In some strange moments of irony, for the first time ever we've had several people ask us in the last month or so whether and when we're having kids. Besides making me supremely uncomfortable because I can hardly talk about it, I can't believe that people find this an acceptable topic of conversation. Am I crazy? Do people always ask you? I've wanted to respond with "what's your monthly income?"

I cringe to post this, because I know what happens when you make plans. I'm afraid to even hope. That feeling, the tug, is there, though. I've been noticing it when Josh and I whisper in the dark. When I hear a friend talk about her desire to be pregnant. When my friend sends me pictures of her beautiful baby. When we wished each other a happy seventh dating-iversary. It seemed fitting to post them today.

operation: cleaning fairy (version I)

I would like to report that last night, upon arriving home from work at 11:30pm, I was happily surprised to find the living room picked up and organized, the dogs' water dish refilled and food on the floor for them.

(For my male readers, I'd like to report the astonishing result a man cleaning the house can have on a sex drive)

He also informed me that "it'd be great" if I could take a look at my magazines that were "starting to pile up and make a mess." If looks could kill, well, it would have been ugly in the Halloweenlover household last night. Peace has been restored, however, upon copious amounts of hedging and many apologies.