this doesn't count as cruelty to animals, right?

Thanks for all your well-wishes on my tooth. It sounds like I made out quite well on the root canal front, all things considered. I really didn't think it was much worse than a filling, and the shots barely hurt at all. He numbed it with a gel first, and then did the shot, and I couldn't even feel it. Only these teeny twinges I mentioned were bothersome. I'm glad I didn't ask you all sooner, though, or I'd have really been puking from nervousness.

I've been contenting myself with thinking about Spring coming soon (please please soon), and days and nights in St. Croix. I'm so focused on that trip, though, that I am starting to worry about my mental health when I get back. You probably shouldn't focus on the end of your vacation before it actually starts, right?

Lots of my fellow associates have told me that one week is simply not enough. It often takes a full week for you to stop worrying about work or checking your Blackberry obsessively (mine is named Eye of Sauron, for those of you that know Lord of the Rings, his all-seeing eye watches me everywhere). The second week is pure pleasure, once your blood pressure has come down a bit.

Unfortunately, I've never had the nerve to take a two-week trip. Mainly because it makes me nervous, plus I'd have to leave the dogs with someone and two weeks is a long time. Also because, for some reason, the prospect of actually having potential vacation days is very important to me. If I ran out of days in October, I might have a little breakdown.

Sooo, I will focus on my activities in the 5 days that I have. Monday night will see me (hopefully) placing bets on crabs. You don't think the crabs mind, do you? This doesn't negate my love of animals, I hope.

Tuesday we have a snorkling trip planned to Buck Island. Let's hope my normally crushing motion sickness doesn't get me on the trip out there on a sailboat.

Wednesday or Thursday I'd like to take a tour of the island, and besides that, I expect to have A LOT of pina coladas. They are my most favoritest drink, you know?

Plus, even though Jo(e) says you can't plan it, I still "plan" on attempting my first ever skinny dipping expedition (shhhhhh!). I feel that with a cottage on the beach, I'm never going to get a better chance than this, right?

__________________________
Tango says he doesn't care, as long as we bring his chew toys.

not a good day

Yesterday, that is, was not a good day. I woke up paralyzed with nausea, afraid to move because I was sure that the slightest movement would result in my covering Tango with vomit. He had pressed himself into my armpit, his body stretched against my side- his favorite position. Josh usually leaves for school before I wake up, so Murray uses the opportunity to rest his head on Josh's pillow and scrunch his body under the covers. Just like a human.

After an hour of wishing the nausea away, I knew that I had to find a way to shower and get dressed, because yesterday morning was also my dreaded dentist appointment. For my root canal, ick.

Two weeks ago, I had a first appointment with a new dentist, who took the requisite dental x-rays, and found a cavity on my back lower molar. He warned me that it looked like it might be close to the root, and with a grimace, might require a root canal.

Ridiculous, I thought. I am an obsessive teeth brusher and flosser. I had braces in law school, and I learned not to eat candy to avoid stains or cavities, drink coffee through a straw to avoid staining my teeth (did you know that tip?), and I use flouride every week. My parents had dental problems while I was growing up, and their trips to the dentist scared me into action. I don't think I have EVER gone to bed with brushing my teeth. Ever. I'll ask my mom for confirmation, but when I tell you it is a compulsion, I am not exaggerating.

When my braces were removed at graduation, though, no one took x-rays, and I suspect that problem was existing at the time. The cavity is right on that moral they use as the anchor with braces, the one that gets covered by the metal band. It would have been impossible for me to prevent food from getting stuck under there.

Anyway, when I went for the filling, it turned out to need a root canal. The cavity had just infiltrated the root, and according to the dentist, if I didn't do something about it, it would decay the root and compromise the strength of the tooth. If we took out the infected nerve right away, I'd save the tooth from decaying too soon. This weekend I mourned my poor defenseless tooth, and moped around a bit, but the root canal was not bad at all.

It took about an hour and 15 minutes, long enough for my jaw to be screaming in protest from being held open. The periodontist said that many people fell asleep while he was working on their teeth, but that was soooo not going to happen with me. I did have a moment of panic when he told me that I was totally numb and wouldn't feel a thing, but then felt 3 sharp jabs in quick succession on the bottom of my jaw, under my chin. They were each less than a split second, but I was so surprised to feel such a sharp pain that I screwed my eyes up and started crying for a few seconds out of fear of what else I'd feel. That was it, though, nothing to write home about. It was certainly no worse than a regular filling, just longer.

In a month I'll meet again with my dentist to decide whether a permanent filling or cap will be required. He suspects a filling, but we'll have to see.

While the drilling was going on, I kept trying unsuccessfully to imagine myself in St. Croix to focus on other things. About halfway through, they turned on the radio or put in a cd, and strangely, played my wedding song. I say strangely, because the song I walked down the aisle to is fairly unusual and uncommon- Sarah Brightman's "No One Like You."

I took it as a sign that I should calm down, which I did.

In your eyes are my secrets
that I've never shown you
In my heart I feel
I've always known you

In your arms there's a comfort
that I never knew
You're what I've been waiting for,
there's no one like you

Sure as the sunrise, pure as a prayer
You fashioned hope right out of thin air
Ev'ry dream I abandoned,
seems it could come true
I believe in miracles,
there's no one like you.

walk on the hill

Last week, my firm participated in the Walk to the Hill for Civil Legal Aid. Over 400 attorneys in private practice crowded into the State House to march on the Capital for a $4.5 million increase in funding for legal aid in Boston. We received the names of our Senator and Representative, based on our constituency, as well as talking points to share with the Senators and Representatives.

After a brief talk from some of the legal aid organizations that the increased funds would benefit, all the attorneys split up to visit their respective parties.

It was short, and sweet, and in less than three hours I'd visited my Senator and Representative, spoken to each about increasing funding for worthy groups, had lunch and was back at the office.

It was a beautiful almost-Spring day, and it is always nice to see colleagues outside of the office. They let their guards down, become more personable and friendly. And of course, it is always nice to do something for others.

Perfect for the soul. It was a great opportunity to bring Camille along to practice taking some pictures of the event and the other attorneys from my firm that came along.

i don't think the massachusetts board of tourism is going to call me now

I'm not sure that I believe there is a such thing as hell, but if there is, I AM quite sure about how it will feel.

Just like downtown Boston during the Big Dig. Seriously. The worst part about the Big Dig isn't the mind-bending traffic, although that is bad, or the constant banging, whirring, screeching sounds, although that is bad too, or the fact that all of Massachusetts' money is going to fund this never-ending project, even though that stinks.

No, it isn't any of that. It is the fact that every ever-loving day, I drive to work. And EVERY DAY, the road is different.

Yesterday, the left lane was a turn left only lane and the middle and right lanes went straight. This would make sense, because across the street, the road is only 2 lanes, not three. But TODAY, today the left lane also goes straight. And this morning I found myself crossing the intersection between a school bus and a huge freight truck, and they both began to squish me between them in their effort to enter the two lane road ahead of us.

The turn onto the 93 highway used to be on the right, with a somewhat clearly marked sign. Now, the entry is on the left side, with no sign letting you know in advance that it has changed. It has been 3 weeks since that change, and I promise you, there has not been one morning that a driver from the right hand lane hasn't zoomed in front of me turning left, almost causing an accident. Every. Single. Morning.

Last week, I turned right into my building off of the main road. This week, I have to do a complicated series of turns, that are not explained nor are they labeled, in order to make it into my parking lot.

The other night when I took a cab back to my car from the movie, the cab driver got so hopelessly lost that he threw his hands up in the air and turned off the meter. When we finally pulled up in front of my building, he dejectedly said, "pay whatever you want."

There are also no crosswalks, because the street is littered with crushed concrete and spray painted arrows and unintelligible symbols that allegedly make sense to the construction folks, so on top of everything else, there are people crossing in the middle of the street. They just pop up between parked cars and big piles of dirt to take years away from my life.

Every night, it takes me half an hour or more to go the 10 blocks until the freeway. At least a half-hour. This week, I've endeavored to work from home past 7pm just to avoid that traffic. The words that spew from my mouth would make sailors blush.

This morning, though, after almost getting crushed between the school bus and the freight truck, there was a final indignity. Look at the new drivers on the road:




10 miles per hour, people, 10 MILES PER HOUR. I think I need a drink, and it is only 9:30am.

ok, it isn't kokomo

Bodies in the sand
Tropical drink melting in your hand
We'll be falling in love
To the rhythm of a steel drum band

We'll put out to sea
And we'll perfect our chemistry
By and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity

Afternoon delight
Cocktails and moonlit nights
That dreamy look in your eye
Give me a tropical contact high

I realize I never responded to your vacation suggestions, which were all wonderful. Thank you!!! It took some finagling to find a spot that took dogs, and would allow us to easily fly with the dogs. They don't seem to mind traveling, since they love their bag, but I hate to keep them in there for too long. Even flying to California seems to me to be hard on them. After all, they can't go to the bathroom in their bag and they don't eat on the trip.

I ended up discovering a great deal on tickets to St. Croix from Budget Travel Online. If you haven't experienced the wonder that is Budget Travel, I'd bookmark it now. It is my all-time favorite source for vacations. In law school, I found a deal for $600 for 6 nights in Rio de Janeiro, airfare, hotel and transfers included. 6 of my girlfriends and I took advantage of the trip and had a fantastic time. The hotel was the Copacabana Hotel, nothing too fancy, but right on the beach and within walking distance to a number of restaurants, bars and shops. Through the same company we organized tours of Corcovado*, Sugarloaf, and other sites, as well as Samba shows. I'd recommend any of their deals.

Sooooo, we are off to St. Croix in a couple of weeks. I also found very reasonable little cottages right on the beach, with kitchenettes, that allows dogs. Perfect for us! That way, we can eat breakfast at the cottage and do a grocery run for snacks. It'll save us a little more money. It also makes it easier with the dogs, who can run in and out of the cottage while we are sitting on the beach. A private beach! Hurray! I'm concerned about the heat and the pups, especially Murray, but with the room right nearby, I can stick them inside if the temperatures get too high.

I. Can. Not. Wait.

I need a week away from work. I need a week of sleep. I need to not be cold all the time for a few days. I also can't wait to see the dogs' reaction to the warm water and sand. They've only been swimming once, on Cape Cod, and Tango has been to the beach in Florida. He kept trying to eat the sand.

What I do NOT need, is to put on a bathing suit, but maybe Josh won't notice the extra pounds. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Camille will also be coming on the vacation, of course, and I'm hoping that I'll have figured out enough to take some nice beach/flower/ocean pictures. Maybe that will keep me going until spring!


_____________________
* Blogger suggested Crackpots instead of Corcovado. Ha!

more about camille

I took my Introduction to SLR Photography this weekend. It was by the Nikon School of Photography- instructors that travel around the country holding an introductory and advanced class over a weekend.

It was great. I learned quite a bit in the 9-4:30pm course on Saturday. Although Nikon sponsored the course, it was fairly generic. They went over "basic" SLR technology, lenses, software, and picture-taking skills. I say basic sarcastically, because, um, no one told me that photography could be so complicated. My head is spinning between apertures and shutters and film speed.

Before I was born, my father worked a second job as a professional photographer. I remember pulling out these fantastically glamourous pictures of my mother he took when they were in their twenties. I would stare at the pictures and wonder if I'd ever look like her when I grew up (unfortunately, I don't). When they moved to the United States, though, my father didn't have a dark room or the time or money to keep up his photography. He had a good quality point and shoot, and because he had the talent and the eye, his pictures were still impressive.

From the time I can remember, my father set me up with a basic camera and provided tips on how to take pictures. Center the subject. Try to put people in the picture for perspective. Make pictures interesting. Work with the sun behind you. And on and on. Through his teaching, I was able to frame pictures in an acceptable manner, but we never went over any of the more technical details of photography.

Saturday's course was exciting, because each new lesson learned meant a new kind of picture, a new level of skill. Holy smokes, though, it is so much harder than my old point and shoot! So much more potential for mistake.


I spent most of the day on Sunday taking practice pictures and trying to remember some of what I'd learned on Saturday. This one only took about 90 practice pictures to get right.


It is much harder than I ever thought it would be. I guess I'll be reading through the manual again. And then again. And then I'm thinking that I'll sign up for a longer photography course, because maybe that will help me to remember some of these tips.

One of the things I've always wanted to do is take those pictures where your subject is super focused, and the background is blurred.

I'm still ecstatic to have Camille, and she certainly takes lovely pictures, when I don't mess them up. But, it is difficult.

Murray says, "how embarassing! I have a leaf on my face."

Tango says, "stop taking pictures and just throw the stinking ball, mom."

I also got Photoshop Elements, and that should help to correct those pictures that I screw up. Like when I spent an hour taking pictures outside in bright sunlight after I'd just set the camera for indoor lighting. Hmmm, that would explain the black pictures.

when you call a stranger out

On Friday night, I went with a friend to see When a Stranger Calls.

I know, shut up.

One of the reviews said that the scariest part of this movie was imagining how much Windex it takes to clean all the windows in this house, and that isn't far off from the truth. It was pretty slow-moving and non-scary. But really, this isn't about the movie.

My friend, T, was at a restaurant in Boston's Theater District, having drinks with a friend before we met for the movie. The Theater District isn't toooo far from where I work, so I set out walking to get there. I'd failed to recognize that it was sub-zero temperatures on Friday night and that I was wearing thin pants. I made it to Boston Common, and realized that by the time I made it to the restaurant, I'd have hypothermia and also need to turn right around and start walking back to the movie theater. So I did the logical thing, and stopped inside the movies, called T and let her know I'd meet her there instead, and then set upon defrosting.

I asked to use their restroom to examine my wind-blown hair and stop my frozen nose from running all over my face, and although the restroom was behind the ticket taker's stand, they waved me through with nary a glance. When I returned, I parked myself near the ticket taker's stand, leaning against the snack bar, waiting for T to arrive.

After a few minutes, two young girls wandered over from a larger group of teens to the side of the theater where I was standing. They were well-dressed, around 13 or 14 years old, laughing, and African-American. Chatting animatedly, they asked the ticket taker, who also happened to be African-American, if they could use the bathroom. At this point, I was hardly paying attention, but then the ticket taker said rather nastily, "I don't know. Do you have a ticket?" When the girls said no, she said that it wasn't a public restroom and until they got a ticket, they couldn't use the bathroom. I was surprised, because obviously I'd just been allowed into the bathroom. One of the girls said that they were waiting for a couple of friends before choosing a movie and purchasing tickets. The ticket taker just stared at the girl rudely, and shook her head no, "When you get a ticket, you can use the bathroom."

As the two girls went back to the group of teens they'd been standing with, a manager who'd been standing nearby the whole time, said to the ticket taker, "You can just tell sometimes. You can't let everyone through."

I understand that white or black, some teenagers can be intimidating, "sketchy," appear to be trouble-makers. These girls were not and did not look like anything other than sweet girls who needed to use the restroom. They were even part of a group of teens, further proof that it was unlikely they'd disappear into the theater.

I'm sure it happens all the time. I'm sure I shouldn't be shocked, but I was. I didn't know what to say. Had the ticket taker been Caucasian, I would have walked over and asked her why she let me through, and not the girls. I could have called her out as a racist. But how could I call someone out as racist who was discriminating against people of her own race?

T arrived shortly thereafter, and I recounted the story to her as we walked to our seats. I'm annoyed at myself for not saying anything, and I'm saddened that the manager confirmed the ticket taker's behavior as appropriate. Sigh. A 30 second interaction, and now it is Sunday, and I'm still stewing.

i didn't really need that first born child anyway

We have a new member of the family.

Now, this new member of the family came by much discussion, bargaining, begging and check balancing. She also came about because of a slight raise from my law firm, that was received with much smiles and appreciation and praise be to whoever noticed that I work all the time.

I have fallen madly in love with this newest family member, I think she is adorable.

Meet Camille.





























[If you are interested in purchasing or knowing more about Digital SLRs, please read on! If not, feel free to skip to the comments section to tell me how gorgeous you think Camille the Canon Camera is, and how you think she looks just like me.] ; )

I mentioned in the past that I was hoping to purchase a Digital SLR, and when I received my digital SLR photography course for Valentine's Day, I took it as an indication that I had also received my husband's blessing on purchasing it.

Now, because I am anally obsessive, I read hundreds (!) of reviews and went to 5 camera shops to get differing opinions on which camera I should purchase. I heard many conflicting opinions, read many conflicting opinions, and quite frankly, people feel VERY STRONGLY about their camera choice. Who knew? It is like the sock thing. We take it personally.

My choice came down to the Nikon D-70 and the Canon Digital Rebel XT (not to be mistaken with the Canon Digital Rebel that is not the XT). Before I held the camera in my hands, I suspected I might prefer the Canon, but once I picked it up, I knew I was right. The truth is, I am a wuss. I complain that my purse is too heavy, I believe that my head has hurt all week because I had to carry the 16 pounds of dog through the airport this weekend, I make Josh carry my bags when we travel. I cannot deal with a heavy camera, and for me, Nikon's 2.5 pounds was just too much. Scoff if you must, but I knew that I'd never take it on vacations if I had to carry that weight around. I'll admit it, I am weak and should go to the gym. Go ahead, point fingers and laugh.

That being said, the Canon achieves its lighter size by being smaller and built out of plastic with a metal casing inside. If you are looking for a very sturdy professional feeling camera and you have bigger hands, this might not be the one for you. I have small hands, Josh doesn't want me to tell you he has small hands, but he kind of does. If you believe, based on reviews, that the picture quality is very comparable between the two, then it comes down to how it feels in your hands.

Anyway, Camille is a HUGE improvement over my Canon Powershot S50. I took pictures of (who else) the dogs last night, and I could see every hair on their little heads in the shots. As a demonstration, I also took pictures with each camera from my office window. With Camille, I could see whether the blinds were open on the buildings many blocks away.

These are through my office window, no zooming.


























Hmmm, more impressive when you zoom in. Ah well. I'm attempting to figure out Photoshop, and once I do, I'm sure I'll be accosting you with pictures. Hurray!

show of hands

Who else thinks it might be a bad idea for me to be watching The Exorcism of Emily Rose when I'm home alone?

Yeah, I thought so too.

perfect post award!

Ack, I don't even have a speech prepared!!!

Angie at Big Red Couch was kind enough to give me the February Perfect Post Award for my post about my wonderful parents, The Originals.




I've been having a rough week, and this was such a welcome surprise! Thank you, Angie! I'm so excited and flattered! Thank you!

Now... how do I get this into my sidebar? Why am I so computer illiterate?

i may need to sleep more

Yesterday, I told a work colleague that I loved her as we hung up the phone.

I begged Josh to drive into the city and pick me up from work, a good half hour drive for him. As we were driving back out, I realized that I'd driven in that morning, and had forgotten my car in the garage.

Inspired by Songbird's suggestion of pancakes for Fat Tuesday, we decided to leave the car where it was and head to IHoP for dinner. They were having a fundraiser and everyone got free pancakes for Fat Tuesday! What good luck! I decided to splurge on a chocolate milk to go with my pancakes, but when the waiter delivered it to the table there was chocolate globbed onto the side of the glass and the milk was looking decidedly unchocolatey. I didn't have a spoon, so I used my straw to whisk the milk around the glass and mix it up. In the process, however, I accidentally flicked the straw filled with milk out of the glass and sprayed myself, my bag, coat and scarf, and my neighbor in the booth behind me with chocolate milk. Do not doubt how much chocolate milk can fit into one straw. My sticky hair is still providing proof.

This morning, Josh dropped me off at the subway station, and when I arrived, I realized that I'd worn my thinnest pants with my thinnest trouser socks, and forgotten my hat, and I had to walk 15 minutes in the 19 degree weather to the office once I exit the train.

Yes, it is a distinct possibility that I may need to try going to bed a little bit earlier from now on.

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.

nowadays you can't be too sentimental*

Seven years ago, this week, I met this adorable man (perhaps he was more boy back then). One of his many endearing traits, was his lack of interest in what other people thought. He seemed impervious to peer pressure, whether it be regarding parties, alcohol, clothing or music. At 20, this was remarkable to me. Finally, here was someone that was uninterested in popularity and what I'd already termed- "college drama." This isn't to say, of course, that we didn't have our struggles. We were always crazy about each other, but there were many moments where he gave away his thoughts that he didn't want a girlfriend, and I refused to bend on my expectations. Even now, there are songs that immediately take me back to late nights of long cries to my girlfriends and dancing around our dorm room swearing off of boys forever.

It seemed fitting then, that last night we danced together in the aisles at the Billy Joel concert at the Boston Garden. Josh has always loved Billy Joel, and it was this revelation early in our relationship that used to make me laugh. He'd rock out in his car to "Movin' Out" when he drove to pick me up from campus, he'd play "She's Always a Woman" while we danced in his apartment. There was never a sense that he cared whether people thought his love of Billy Joel was "cool" or not. He just did.

The concert was so much fun, and the audience sang along with most of his songs. I even took notes during the concert so that I could better list what songs he played:

Angry Young Man (in tribute to APL, I accidentally said to Josh, "yay! Angry Boy!")
My Life
Everybody Loves You Now
Seeing the Lights Go Down On Broadway
New York State of Mind (which he said he sang on a dare, because it was in Boston)
Stiletto
Zanzibar
Allentown
Downeaster Alexa
All For Leyna
Pressure
Goodnight Saigon
Movin' Out
Innocent Man
Keeping the Faith
Always a Woman To Me
River of Dreams (my favorite! And this one got everyone up and dancing)
I Go To Extremes
We Didn't Start the Fire
Big Shot (he was hysterical dancing around on the stage for this one)
Still Rock and Roll To Me

Encore:
You May Be Right
Only the Good Die Young
Scenes From An Italian Restaurant
Piano Man

I kept glancing over at Josh while he rocked in his seat and sang along loud enough that I had to shush him a couple of times, and marveling at the way things change. As Josh pulled me to my feet for some of the tunes, or threaded his fingers through mine during the slow songs, I wondered how I could have so much sweetness in my life. How can it get any better than this?

___________________________
* points if you know what song this is from

shocking news

I had to break some unfortunate news to Josh this weekend.

Namely, there is no fairy that changes your sheets every week.

It is, in fact, (drumroll please)........... Me.

As you can imagine, this was more than a tad bit shocking to him. That, and the subsequent realization that I am also the one that vacuums, feeds the dogs, changes their water, and cleans the bathroom.

I'm sure this is akin to children finding out there is no Santa Claus, but since Josh is Jewish, he's never felt a shock quite like this one.

Now that the truth has been set free, I hope to report back to you that other players shall be occasionally taking over the role of cleaning fairy. Stay tuned.

crafty projects: "french" bulletin board

I had a burst of energy this weekend, and didn't just pull up the tiles in the bathroom... At 11pm on Friday night, I also started a project I'd been planning for months.

I'd been wanting to make a picture board for our guest room. I wanted a place where I could put all my favorite pictures of the friends that would be frequenting the room. I eyed some of the ones being sold at Pottery Barn and besides being the wrong colors, I thought they were pretty expensive for what they were. Additionally, the fabulously talented Chatty Cricket made a picture board last year and it turned out beautifully. I knew I could do it.

So I picked out fabric that matched the room.



Green fabric on green walls would have been too much, so I picked a slightly contrasting tan that pulled a color out of the curtains.





I also purchase a canvas at an art store, whatever size is best for you. Mine is pretty big because the area above the bed where I'm hanging this is rather large. Any canvas that has a wooden frame will work. I waited for a sale, because a painter's canvas is expensive.

Then I gathered my tools:



Staple gun
Tape measure
Color-coordinated ribbon (I needed two rolls)
Scissors (good for trimming fabric)





And I got to work. I criss-crossed along the length of the board first, forming a big X. I'd wrap the ribbon around the back and staple it down, holding it very taut. Then I started alternating sides, criss crossing each side, and measuring the distance to make sure the gaps between ribbons was equal.


Make sense? For example, I'd measure halfway between the right side and the top, and make sure I was starting the ribbon in the middle on both sides. Once I'd done that in on the four corners, it formed a diamond shape on the picture board. Then I'd start stapling down the ribbon again on the diagonal.


In the picture above, three sides of the diagonal and the initial big X are done.

The only trick I didn't realize until it was complete, is that I could have alternated all the ribbons and they would have interlocked against each other, thereby keeping pictures from sliding underneath. It turned out cute in the end, though.





Here is the finished product!







I've been trying to decide whether I want to add little upholstery tacks at the intersection of each ribbon, or whether I like it as is. What do you all think?

It was a pretty fun project, and took me less than an hour once I'd collected enough materials. I assumed one roll of ribbon would be enough, but I used every last little bit of both rolls. I'll also be using the fabric to make a seat cushion and pillows for the guest bed. Maybe this weekend?

happy blogiversary to me!

Today is my one year blogiversary!!! Hurray! Who knew that I'd keep this up for one whole year? I sure didn't. This was the second or third blog I'd started, only to let it go after a while, so it is a real surprise.

One year ago today, I wrote this. I am happy to report that my lovely husband is still my lovely husband, because today at work I received this:





I think I'll keep him.













Also, in honor of my blogiversary, I shall tell you two(!!) embarassing stories about myself.

In high school, I thought I was super cool. I mean, super DUPER cool. So cool was I, that 90210, the show, would be on television on Wednesday nights. It was my trademark to wear my hair on Thursday to school JUST LIKE one of the characters on 90210. I had long straight hair, so I could somewhat replicate the styles that Kelly or Brenda were wearing. And by somewhat, I mean, not really. I would even enlist my mom's help in doing it. I'd pull her out of whatever she was doing while the show was on, and then make her get up early to do my hair that way in the morning.

Like I said, super duper UBER cool.

I also used to fight with my friends in sixth grade over who the New Kids on the Block liked best out of all of us. Because, you know, they knew us. And the odds of meeting them was really high.

I totally think they would have liked me. I'm just sayin'.

**************************
Thanks to all of you for making this a wonderful blogging year for me!

bathroom discoveries

I guess with a title like that one, we could go in any direction with this post, but I am pleased to inform you that this bathroom discovery was a good one.

A few nights ago, I shuffled into the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed, and my sock got snagged on the edge of a linoleum tile. The corner of the tile lifted up, and I was surprised to find real ceramic tile underneath. The tile was covered in blackish sludge and dirt from years of glue, as well as grime sliding under the edges of the linoleum that had long since separated to form gaps.

The prior owners of our house, or the prior owners to the prior owners of our house, did some strange things with the decorating. They'd put in hideously ugly carpet, different colors in different rooms, to cover up beautifully preserved hardwood floors. They put linoleum tiles inside the kitchen cabinets, and they're still there. Both the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms feature this non-matching random colored linoleum, even though the upstairs bathroom is yellow tiled and the downstairs bathroom is pink tiled.



It was a little late to be pulling up linoleum, especially because I didn't know what the state of the tile underneath might be. I'd normally assume they covered up damage, but since I've glimpsed some of their strange workings in the past, I thought there was a chance it might be okay.





Sunday night, I got down on my hands and knees, grabbed an old wallpaper scraper and got to work. With each piece of linoleum I pulled up, I made a little wish that it would be okay underneath. For the most part the linoleum came up in whole pieces and I only had to work to scrape up a few sections.

I cleaned each square after I'd pulled up the tile with Goo Gone, which worked beautifully! I was too lazy to go to Home Depot and ask about other products, but Goo Gone ended up being perfect and got all the glue up without any problems.

Josh had to recaulk around the tub and the toilet, but this is what the bathroom looked like in the end.






Thankfully, there is only one spot next to the toilet where a tile was cracked and removed. Unfortunately, it is right near the entrance to the bathroom, so it is easy to see. I'm assuming I can try to find some cream tile that will somewhat match and then chip it down to size. Has anyone encountered a similar problem?



There wasn't any wrong, per se, with the old linoleum, but I somehow feel that the bathroom has more charm now. it seems more authentic, funkier, more interesting. Now I'm looking for a black rug to throw down next to the tub to complete the look. The one in the above picture ended up having a hole, and that was the last one in stock.













I also received a postcard that Restoration Hardware opened up an outlet store in Boston, and I picked up some old fashioned canister looking containers, soap dispenser and garbage can at their super discounted prices, and the bathroom is starting to shape up!














Now the question is, do I take the same leap of faith in the downstairs bathroom? From the gaps in the linoleum, it looks as if the downstairs tile may be color coated with pink and black tiles to match the walls. Ick. But will pink and black be better than tan, yellow and green linoleum?

so much to say

This weekend was a busy weekend, with blogger meetups, surprises in the mail, bathroom decorating work, projects and general errand-running. I have so much to write about, I'm torn on where to start.

On Saturday morning, I met Phantom Scribbler and Songbird for some book shopping and chats. I have met the wonderful Phantom before, but meeting Songbird was a first. She is as lovely in person as she is on her blog. Very kind and considerate, gives good advice, and is a great listener. All of what you'd expect. Plus, her dog Molly is ADORABLE, and we all know how I feel about dogs. We started out thinking we'd do some book shopping, but couldn't stop the conversation so we headed to a nearby Starbucks to talk uninterrupted. It was warm enough for a long walk outside, even though it is January! Funny, but it didn't feel as if we were meeting for the first time, it was so relaxed and comfortable. I hope we can do it again soon!

When I arrived home later that day, I was surprised to receive a package in the mail from Ninotchka!




When her beautiful daughter was born in September, we made some guesses on her birth date and her size, and I guessed the closest for sweet Anna Sofia's weight! Look at this beautiful wrapping job! You really outdid yourself, Nino!







Nino was sweet enough to send me a prize package! Thank you, Nino! I loved everything!














Josh enjoyed the prizes also. He was more than happy to eat the gummy fishes on Saturday night!







He's just like a kid, this one.










I have so much more to tell you, like all of the projects I've undertaken this weekend. I was right in assuming that my energy for indoor projects would return once the weather went sour. I spent much of the summer outside enjoying our brief summer, and now that the snow has begun to fall fast and furious, I am back to my projects. Saturday it was close to 60 degrees, and this morning my front yard looked like this!


My poor tulips are so confused that this weekend I noticed that a few have sprouted. Does anyone know what happens? Will they freeze and die or just hold out until April? I'll be so disappointed if my first venture into planting bulbs fails miserably!

Hope your weekends were equally fabulous!

show and tell: hats

Blackbird's son has requested that we show him some hats. I have very few hats, because I believe they look comical on my head.

I do, however, own a hat that I received in the mail shortly after the Red Sox won the World Series, with a note that said:

"Who's your Daddy-In-Law?"







Best. Hat. EVAH.

For obvious reasons.

indigo leaf magazine

Karen over at Chookooloonks, has started a fabulous new online magazine- Indigo Leaf Magazine- and I encourage you all to go visit! She is highlighting some wonderfully talented unpublished authors!

Indigo Leaf is also taking submissions for future issues, so all you amazing writers out there, submit!

you people with your sock fetishes...

Who knew that you all felt so passionately about socks? Josh and I spent a good hour on Sunday afternoon chuckling over all your answers. I am happy to see that I have been vindicated, except apparently when socks are worn while engaging in naughty activities. Josh wins on that one.

I am feeling wholly braindead on the blogging front. Plus, I'm having trouble sleeping at night. This is very disturbing, because if there is one thing I need, it is my sleep. I can't figure out what is going on with me, but it had better stop soon. I was pleased to read in my gardening book that during the month of January we gain an extra hour of sunlight. So if my inability to sleep has to do with being seasonally affected, maybe the extra sunlight will help.

The other thing that might help, will be a vacation to a warm spot. And since all of you were so helpful on the 3 day trip Josh and I took, plus you are all so opinionated on socks, I want your assistance on the vacation front!

Here is the caveat, however. We don't have a dogsitter, so we have to bring the pooches along. We have fun with them and they are very mobile, but it is a bit of a bummer because we'd hoped to meet friends in London and London doesn't allow dogs.

Anyway, we are looking for a warm location, preferably beach, and we have to be able to bring the dogs. Dogs are permitted in the Caribbean, Mexico and Puerto Rico, in addition to all the other US States except Hawaii.

Oh, and we don't have lots of expendable funds so it has to be cheap. What about all of these vacation spots I hear people talking about in North Carolina or South Carolina, or any of those other states I've never visited. Are they warm in March?

This is what I'd like to be doing:



I'll even bring you back a present from one of these exotic dog friendly locations if you provide me with a fantastically wonderful vacation! I'll come up with something.

very important poll

I'd like to conduct an informal survey of the Internet to satisfy a certain argument the husband and I often have.

1. Do you wear socks to bed?

a. Yes, my toes are freezing cold and my significant other is a selfish bastard that refuses to let me warm them up against him or her.

b. Yes, I'm "pathetic"** and I like my socks. In fact, I have several different types and colors depending upon the temperatures.

c. No, my significant other is a kind and considerate person that emits enough heat as to allow me to snuggle my chilly feet against her or him.

d. HAVE YOU GONE MAD? The very notion of wearing socks to bed is strange and unnerving, I particularly would not have "relations" with someone wearing socks. EWWWWWW.

Discuss amongst you.

** This does not reflect the views of the management here at Lots and Lots of Nonsense, who finds having different types and colors of socks perfectly normal. Hrumph.

fyi

If you happen to make a cucumber and tomato salad yesterday morning, and you forget to eat it yesterday for lunch, and you just assume that you can eat it for lunch today and you pull it out of your bag to eat it, DON'T.

Because what you'll find is that there is green mold growing ALL OVER the salad, and it is really really really gross.

Have a nice day.