Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
3 years ago
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I've Moved!
I've moved over to a site on Wordpress. Don't know if it's better...just know it's different. Anyway, come visit me there! http://www.twiceasgood.wordpress.com. See you soon!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Why my lungs hate me
I actually don't know why. I don't know if it's the heat, or if it's the fact that I breathed in grass and air and dirt and dust all weekend, or if it's just because my lungs think it's funny. Either way, I can't breathe for all the coughing and my doctor thought it would be great fun to go on vacation this week. So I'm taking Mucinex, which doesn't work, but does make your pee stink, in case you wanted to know. BLECH. I hate feeling like crap. Plus I've slept at least 12 hours every night since Thursday and I still feel like I could sleep until next Friday, skipping most meals and everything in between.
And now that I've brought you down a few notches from whatever sunny, optimistic place you were in, I'll tell you that misery loves company. Welcome! I watched Regis and Kelly this morning, and I have to say that Mario Lopez, who guest-hosted since Regis is probably off at the Fountain of Youth getting his weekly tonic, is cute to look at but HORRIBLE to listen to. His voice got all high lately. When he was AC Slater on Saved by the Bell, I really don't remember his voice being so high, nor do I remember him being so girly. But today, he giggled. Ew. What a turnoff. On the other hand, I also watched Rachael Ray and am more in love with Mariska Hargitay that I already was. (If you're completely ignorant and live in a hole and don't watch Law & Order: SVU, she's the lady cop on there. She's fab.) Not only does she have great hair, she's also really funny. And she's best friends with Hilary Swank, who took her to Paris for her birthday.
I'm going back to bed now, where it's snuggly and comfy and where nobody cares if I cough all over everything. Enjoy your day...wherever you're spending it. I'll post an update later on Guiding Light, or Ellen, or Oprah or whatever it is I decide to watch after my nap.
And now that I've brought you down a few notches from whatever sunny, optimistic place you were in, I'll tell you that misery loves company. Welcome! I watched Regis and Kelly this morning, and I have to say that Mario Lopez, who guest-hosted since Regis is probably off at the Fountain of Youth getting his weekly tonic, is cute to look at but HORRIBLE to listen to. His voice got all high lately. When he was AC Slater on Saved by the Bell, I really don't remember his voice being so high, nor do I remember him being so girly. But today, he giggled. Ew. What a turnoff. On the other hand, I also watched Rachael Ray and am more in love with Mariska Hargitay that I already was. (If you're completely ignorant and live in a hole and don't watch Law & Order: SVU, she's the lady cop on there. She's fab.) Not only does she have great hair, she's also really funny. And she's best friends with Hilary Swank, who took her to Paris for her birthday.
I'm going back to bed now, where it's snuggly and comfy and where nobody cares if I cough all over everything. Enjoy your day...wherever you're spending it. I'll post an update later on Guiding Light, or Ellen, or Oprah or whatever it is I decide to watch after my nap.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
It's an interesting idea...
Yes, Molly. We did offer ourselves up as human rotisserie chickens on Friday night. It lasted approximately an hour. We never saw the bride and groom (who were presumably inside the museum comfortably resting in the A/C) and we left when our clothes were so drenched that they weighed about 5 lbs. more than they did when we put them on. GOD. It was miserable. Poor girl having to be a bride on a weekend like this.
And so goes the weekend. Today the high is supposed to be 102, though I would venture to guess that it goes higher than that. Yesterday I almost gave myself a heatstroke by watering plants and walking to and from the mailbox - in this kind of heat, I don't think you should do anything except take cold showers and eat inordinate amounts of ice cream. I've done both, by the way.
You know what I haven't done? My table of links project that's due, oh, tomorrow. I'm in the process of teaching myself how to create a table using SeaMonkey, and I have, but it looks like crap and I've lost interest. So what shall I do instead? Blog about it. I put this project off as long as possible... I went to the outlets yesterday and bought shoes. I went to the movies and watched Sex and The City. PS, BEST MOVIE EVER. I cleaned out my closet. I did laundry. I watched shows off the DVR. I even took my Web Design book out to the pool today and splashed around a little. It got wet and is now as wrinkly as my shriveled fingers.
Then I sat down to actually do what it is that I was supposed to do this weekend and found that I'm much better at wasting time than actually using it wisely. I have decided that there should be some kind of award for Best Time Wasters Ever. And then we can waste time by having elaborate awards ceremonies, which we would've planned but were too busy wasting time to do. Genius. I am so much smarter than I give myself credit for sometimes.
There's also someone out there who deserves a little more credit than she gets, but it's not for the same reason. While she shall remain nameless, let's just say that Smarty Susie isn't quite as smart as she thinks she is. She might have a super-high-paying job and a fancy schmancy house in the big city of LA with a big diamond ring on her finger, but Smarty Susie just can't seem to get it together. Past Smarty Susie incidents include calling my husband by the wrong name, introducing me to people I've known all my life and saying not-so-nice things about people while they're listening. Her latest foray into the world of smarts is to write me a thank-you note for a party that I did not give her. Susie and I are relatively the same age, yet the letter starts: "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Baker..."
Well, Smarty Susie, the good news is that once I get around to planning the Best Time Wasters Ever awards, you will be the first recipient, my dear! Because that sweet little note you wrote me was just that - a waste of time. It was a nice thought, though, and I did get a good laugh out of it.
I'm off to table with SeaMonkey now. It sounds like a watersport, but sadly it isn't. I'll blog more tomorrow, I promise. I know you simply can't wait!
And so goes the weekend. Today the high is supposed to be 102, though I would venture to guess that it goes higher than that. Yesterday I almost gave myself a heatstroke by watering plants and walking to and from the mailbox - in this kind of heat, I don't think you should do anything except take cold showers and eat inordinate amounts of ice cream. I've done both, by the way.
You know what I haven't done? My table of links project that's due, oh, tomorrow. I'm in the process of teaching myself how to create a table using SeaMonkey, and I have, but it looks like crap and I've lost interest. So what shall I do instead? Blog about it. I put this project off as long as possible... I went to the outlets yesterday and bought shoes. I went to the movies and watched Sex and The City. PS, BEST MOVIE EVER. I cleaned out my closet. I did laundry. I watched shows off the DVR. I even took my Web Design book out to the pool today and splashed around a little. It got wet and is now as wrinkly as my shriveled fingers.
Then I sat down to actually do what it is that I was supposed to do this weekend and found that I'm much better at wasting time than actually using it wisely. I have decided that there should be some kind of award for Best Time Wasters Ever. And then we can waste time by having elaborate awards ceremonies, which we would've planned but were too busy wasting time to do. Genius. I am so much smarter than I give myself credit for sometimes.
There's also someone out there who deserves a little more credit than she gets, but it's not for the same reason. While she shall remain nameless, let's just say that Smarty Susie isn't quite as smart as she thinks she is. She might have a super-high-paying job and a fancy schmancy house in the big city of LA with a big diamond ring on her finger, but Smarty Susie just can't seem to get it together. Past Smarty Susie incidents include calling my husband by the wrong name, introducing me to people I've known all my life and saying not-so-nice things about people while they're listening. Her latest foray into the world of smarts is to write me a thank-you note for a party that I did not give her. Susie and I are relatively the same age, yet the letter starts: "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Baker..."
Well, Smarty Susie, the good news is that once I get around to planning the Best Time Wasters Ever awards, you will be the first recipient, my dear! Because that sweet little note you wrote me was just that - a waste of time. It was a nice thought, though, and I did get a good laugh out of it.
I'm off to table with SeaMonkey now. It sounds like a watersport, but sadly it isn't. I'll blog more tomorrow, I promise. I know you simply can't wait!
Friday, June 6, 2008
My kids
So you know, nauseatingly so, how much I love Heather Armstrong? Well, today I'm stealing a line from her, or actually from her daughter Leta: my kids. Apparently Leta has started calling her friends "my kids," and so Heather has started doing it, and you know if Heather does it, well probably I'll have to do it too. Example: Heather puts a cute dress on Leta, and Leta says something like, "I think my kids at school will like this dress." LOVE IT.
What's up, my kids? I'll tell you what's up. Last night BB and I were watching "In Plain Sight," this new USA show that's along the lines of "The Closer" and "Burn Notice" (read: along the lines of ALL THINGS GOOD), when I saw flashing red lights go by my house. In case you don't know, I live on a street that's way back in a neighborhood where random flashing lights don't happen much. Being the nosy drama hound that I am, I bounded barefoot out the front door and saw that two ambulances had stopped at a house right down the street from me. I'm staring, like I do, and Brian's all, Hey, you shouldn't stare. It's rude. I know it's rude. But it's also rude to be a neighbor of someone who needs an ambulance and not know what happened to them. God.
Anyway, my poor elderly neighbor Ralph had a heart attack. A bad one. His wife fixed hamburgers for supper last night and he thought he had indigestion really bad. She wanted to call 911, he didn't, she did anyway, and it's a good thing, because apparently it was a bad one. I haven't gotten an update this morning, but I've been thinking of them, and I hope Ralph is okay. You should cross your fingers that Ralph is okay too, because it's the nice thing to do.
So then after that, we finished watching TV and we went to bed. Somebody said something smart and we laughed for a while, and then I discovered that while I was dozing, BB disappeared. Apparently this oppressive heat makes me snore more (or that's what I'm blaming it on, anyway) so he went away to the guest room to slumber in peace. I woke up at like 1:52 am (I looked at the clock) choking. This has happened to me plenty of times before, so thankfully I didn't panic quite as much as I normally do. Acid reflux is a bitch, by the way.
Anyway, I went back to sleep after my ritual of prescription-I-should've-taken-this-morning-but-didn't-which-is-why-I'm-up-now + Tums + lots of ice water + some gum. BB wakes me up at 5:15 to tell me that the cats don't like the cat food he bought them. Huh? You are SERIOUSLY going to wake me up pre-dawn to imply that I should get my ass out of bed early and go buy them some tuna that they DO like? Oh, hell to the no. Miraculously, I went back to sleep after that and woke up just before 10am when Carolina Ballet called, probably to sell me some season's tickets to Swan Lake.
So now it's 11:20am, I haven't had breakfast, nor have I thought about showering until just now when I'm typing this, and the only thing I'm looking forward to doing today is NOTHING and going to see Sex & The City with my mom late this afternoon. I'm excited to see the movie, but a little nervous about watching it with JUST my mom. I mean, we've both seen the show (the whole thing, a million times), and we're all grown up and adult now, but there's just something unsettling about knowing that Kim Catrall will likely describe some sex act in detail during this movie - and I'll have to watch it sitting next to my mother.
Then after that we're going to a dance for a kid that's getting married tomorrow. Ordinarily I wouldn't go, but it's at the Ava Gardner Museum tonight at 9pm, and I'm interested to see whether or not the rumor is true that they're going to put a tent and a band out in the courtyard. I just think it'll be cool to dance in 100-degree heat amongst gowns Ava wore in The Night of the Iguana and Mogambo. (Not that I've seen the movies...I've just heard of them.)
Happy Friday, my kids. Some of you I'll see tonight. Others of you I don't know. And perhaps SOME of you I'll see someday when you hop on a plane and surprise me for my 30th birthday. Which is September 15th. HINT HINT.
Hasta!
What's up, my kids? I'll tell you what's up. Last night BB and I were watching "In Plain Sight," this new USA show that's along the lines of "The Closer" and "Burn Notice" (read: along the lines of ALL THINGS GOOD), when I saw flashing red lights go by my house. In case you don't know, I live on a street that's way back in a neighborhood where random flashing lights don't happen much. Being the nosy drama hound that I am, I bounded barefoot out the front door and saw that two ambulances had stopped at a house right down the street from me. I'm staring, like I do, and Brian's all, Hey, you shouldn't stare. It's rude. I know it's rude. But it's also rude to be a neighbor of someone who needs an ambulance and not know what happened to them. God.
Anyway, my poor elderly neighbor Ralph had a heart attack. A bad one. His wife fixed hamburgers for supper last night and he thought he had indigestion really bad. She wanted to call 911, he didn't, she did anyway, and it's a good thing, because apparently it was a bad one. I haven't gotten an update this morning, but I've been thinking of them, and I hope Ralph is okay. You should cross your fingers that Ralph is okay too, because it's the nice thing to do.
So then after that, we finished watching TV and we went to bed. Somebody said something smart and we laughed for a while, and then I discovered that while I was dozing, BB disappeared. Apparently this oppressive heat makes me snore more (or that's what I'm blaming it on, anyway) so he went away to the guest room to slumber in peace. I woke up at like 1:52 am (I looked at the clock) choking. This has happened to me plenty of times before, so thankfully I didn't panic quite as much as I normally do. Acid reflux is a bitch, by the way.
Anyway, I went back to sleep after my ritual of prescription-I-should've-taken-this-morning-but-didn't-which-is-why-I'm-up-now + Tums + lots of ice water + some gum. BB wakes me up at 5:15 to tell me that the cats don't like the cat food he bought them. Huh? You are SERIOUSLY going to wake me up pre-dawn to imply that I should get my ass out of bed early and go buy them some tuna that they DO like? Oh, hell to the no. Miraculously, I went back to sleep after that and woke up just before 10am when Carolina Ballet called, probably to sell me some season's tickets to Swan Lake.
So now it's 11:20am, I haven't had breakfast, nor have I thought about showering until just now when I'm typing this, and the only thing I'm looking forward to doing today is NOTHING and going to see Sex & The City with my mom late this afternoon. I'm excited to see the movie, but a little nervous about watching it with JUST my mom. I mean, we've both seen the show (the whole thing, a million times), and we're all grown up and adult now, but there's just something unsettling about knowing that Kim Catrall will likely describe some sex act in detail during this movie - and I'll have to watch it sitting next to my mother.
Then after that we're going to a dance for a kid that's getting married tomorrow. Ordinarily I wouldn't go, but it's at the Ava Gardner Museum tonight at 9pm, and I'm interested to see whether or not the rumor is true that they're going to put a tent and a band out in the courtyard. I just think it'll be cool to dance in 100-degree heat amongst gowns Ava wore in The Night of the Iguana and Mogambo. (Not that I've seen the movies...I've just heard of them.)
Happy Friday, my kids. Some of you I'll see tonight. Others of you I don't know. And perhaps SOME of you I'll see someday when you hop on a plane and surprise me for my 30th birthday. Which is September 15th. HINT HINT.
Hasta!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
It's Barack Obama Day
Tonight I was listening to the news, and I heard Charlie Gibson say, "And now Tom Joyner offers his perspective on today's events..." And then I hear Tom Joyner say, "Today is Barack Obama Day. Even if you're out there pumping $80 worth of gas in your Civic, it's still Barack Obama Day."
Tom, I'm gonna have to go ahead and disagree with you there. Yes, it's an historic event. And yes, today is all about Barack Obama (I loved when he told the story of calling his grandmother to give her the news). But Tom, $80 worth of gas in my Civic really has not much to do with Obama, and despite the day's events, I'm pretty sure that unless it's Christmas and Santa left me a money tree, I'm not celebrating anything in light of the $80 in gas. Just so you know.
In other news, Poofy came by with the baby today and he has the most hilarious hair I've ever seen on...anybody. Baby or not. I loved on him for a while and then BB came by to hold him and it was remarkable how much that kid calmed down when Brian had him. He kept looking straight up into his face, he took his little fists and clutched Brian's shirt and he looked so peaceful. And then Brian shot me that look, and I know there's a baby conversation looming somewhere in my future, I'm just not sure when it's going to pop up and surprise me.
Also, a big fat glass cutting board fell on my head tonight. It slid right off the counter and right onto my head (I was leaning down to close a cabinet) and BRIAN WATCHED. He just sat there and watched! Luckily I have a hard head. And in spite of the delicious pork tenderloin he grilled and the yummy new potatoes he roasted, I ignored him during supper. Who just watches a glass square fall on someone's head?! Brian, that's who.
I'm going to watch "The Bachelorette" now. It makes me feel better about myself, and I need to feel better about my baby-less, goose-egg-head self. Even though I don't want babies. And goose eggs are hot.
Tom, I'm gonna have to go ahead and disagree with you there. Yes, it's an historic event. And yes, today is all about Barack Obama (I loved when he told the story of calling his grandmother to give her the news). But Tom, $80 worth of gas in my Civic really has not much to do with Obama, and despite the day's events, I'm pretty sure that unless it's Christmas and Santa left me a money tree, I'm not celebrating anything in light of the $80 in gas. Just so you know.
In other news, Poofy came by with the baby today and he has the most hilarious hair I've ever seen on...anybody. Baby or not. I loved on him for a while and then BB came by to hold him and it was remarkable how much that kid calmed down when Brian had him. He kept looking straight up into his face, he took his little fists and clutched Brian's shirt and he looked so peaceful. And then Brian shot me that look, and I know there's a baby conversation looming somewhere in my future, I'm just not sure when it's going to pop up and surprise me.
Also, a big fat glass cutting board fell on my head tonight. It slid right off the counter and right onto my head (I was leaning down to close a cabinet) and BRIAN WATCHED. He just sat there and watched! Luckily I have a hard head. And in spite of the delicious pork tenderloin he grilled and the yummy new potatoes he roasted, I ignored him during supper. Who just watches a glass square fall on someone's head?! Brian, that's who.
I'm going to watch "The Bachelorette" now. It makes me feel better about myself, and I need to feel better about my baby-less, goose-egg-head self. Even though I don't want babies. And goose eggs are hot.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Raisins, vitiligo and other cruise stories
I'm. So. Sleepy.
Not just sleepy like, woo I need some coffee, but sleepy like I might have fallen asleep in the bathroom a minute ago. The cruise was a million tons of fun, but the exhaustion I'm feeling right now is akin to jet lag, and my flight was only 2 hours! WTF? Also, I'm sitting still, but strangely it feels as though my desk is swaying a little...
So here's a rundown of our days, and I'll try to follow it with some excerpts from my travel journal (do NOT laugh; if you've never done one when you travel, you totally should):
Thursday: Left RDU on time as scheduled, after lunch and a Viva Rita at some pricey airport restaurant. Smooth flight, landed in Miami and discovered that no one speaks English there, nor is there any other weather than 90 degree humidity.
Arrived at Mandarin Oriental after the hottest cab ride known to man, stuck in traffic on 95, and realized that Carrol's friend Liane is actually in charge of VIP relations. She gave us a quick tour of the hotel (include the infinity pool where Jennifer Aniston/John Mayer were caught smooching!) and then showed us to our suite. OMG. It's literally like no other place I've been. Ordinarily the suite runs for about $3000-$4000/night, but we paid $50 each. No lie. It had a bathroom and a half, a huge living room, chocolate sushi and strawberries upon our arrival and the most amazing view of downtown Miami from the 16th floor. 
Quick dip in the pool, then off to dinner at Azul, where the restaurant manager sent over courses of hamachi and wild mushroom risotto before our dinner of crusted halibut. Amazing. We were so stuffed from our dinner and drinks that we crashed early. Highlights from that day: passing by the Miami PD, whose facade BB and I know well from watching "The First 48," and flirting with a 50 year-old French man who cooks. What more does a girl need in this world?
Friday: Breakfast at Cafe Sambal at the Mandarin, then on to the Port of Miami, where check-in was a breeze. Thankfully the customs lady appreciated my extra documentation effort when I handed her my birth certificate, marriage certificate, license and passport. Even still, everywhere on board that I used my SeaPass gave me a receipt saying "Margaret Davis." Seriously. It poured rain all day, until we finally got far enough out into the Caribbean. Andrea and I had drinks on the sun deck while the other two napped, and we had dinner and disco dancing that night before crashing around 1am. Our cabin was actually a lot roomier than we thought, which was nice, but the toilet is like an airplane one - if you're not careful, it will suck your bum down with it when you flush. (Aren't you glad I'm sharing all of this? You, too, can be prepared when it comes time for your first cruise.)
Not just sleepy like, woo I need some coffee, but sleepy like I might have fallen asleep in the bathroom a minute ago. The cruise was a million tons of fun, but the exhaustion I'm feeling right now is akin to jet lag, and my flight was only 2 hours! WTF? Also, I'm sitting still, but strangely it feels as though my desk is swaying a little...
So here's a rundown of our days, and I'll try to follow it with some excerpts from my travel journal (do NOT laugh; if you've never done one when you travel, you totally should):
Thursday: Left RDU on time as scheduled, after lunch and a Viva Rita at some pricey airport restaurant. Smooth flight, landed in Miami and discovered that no one speaks English there, nor is there any other weather than 90 degree humidity.
Arrived at Mandarin Oriental after the hottest cab ride known to man, stuck in traffic on 95, and realized that Carrol's friend Liane is actually in charge of VIP relations. She gave us a quick tour of the hotel (include the infinity pool where Jennifer Aniston/John Mayer were caught smooching!) and then showed us to our suite. OMG. It's literally like no other place I've been. Ordinarily the suite runs for about $3000-$4000/night, but we paid $50 each. No lie. It had a bathroom and a half, a huge living room, chocolate sushi and strawberries upon our arrival and the most amazing view of downtown Miami from the 16th floor. Quick dip in the pool, then off to dinner at Azul, where the restaurant manager sent over courses of hamachi and wild mushroom risotto before our dinner of crusted halibut. Amazing. We were so stuffed from our dinner and drinks that we crashed early. Highlights from that day: passing by the Miami PD, whose facade BB and I know well from watching "The First 48," and flirting with a 50 year-old French man who cooks. What more does a girl need in this world?Friday: Breakfast at Cafe Sambal at the Mandarin, then on to the Port of Miami, where check-in was a breeze. Thankfully the customs lady appreciated my extra documentation effort when I handed her my birth certificate, marriage certificate, license and passport. Even still, everywhere on board that I used my SeaPass gave me a receipt saying "Margaret Davis." Seriously. It poured rain all day, until we finally got far enough out into the Caribbean. Andrea and I had drinks on the sun deck while the other two napped, and we had dinner and disco dancing that night before crashing around 1am. Our cabin was actually a lot roomier than we thought, which was nice, but the toilet is like an airplane one - if you're not careful, it will suck your bum down with it when you flush. (Aren't you glad I'm sharing all of this? You, too, can be prepared when it comes time for your first cruise.)
Saturday: Our attempts at sleeping in were for naught. We had breakfast, boarded the tender and headed to CocoCay, Royal Caribbean's own private island in the Bahamas. Heather and I rented mats that float and we laid in the ocean on those practically the whole day, laughing as we bumped into non-English-speaking people who didn't understand a) how difficult it was to steer those things and b) "excuse me" in English. Formal night was that night, and after Carrol's 17 outfit changes (by far my favorite part of the night), we had our pictures taken and enjoyed champagne with our dinner mates, Tony and Maria. Highlights of that day: CocoLoco, raisins and the cute little Indian girl who had on more gold jewelry than I own.
Sunday: Nassau. Maybe we didn't go far enough inland, but boy, it wasn't my favorite place. It reminded me a lot of Cancun, in that it had liquor stores next to Cartier next to cheesy tourist shops on streets all through town. Most places were closed since it was Sunday, and we never made it over to Atlantis or Paradise Island, which really didn't bother me much. Last night on the ship! We spent it shopping in the stores onboard, followed by drinks and dinner, then some late-night gambling. I didn't know how much I love slot machines. But I do. A lot.
Monday: In a nutshell, Monday went kind of like this: Get up, wait in line. Eat, wait in line. Play some gin, wait in line. Give Andrea the middle finger when she tells me my tan looks like vitiligo, wait in line. Pay $50 for my 57 lb. suitcase, wait in line. Laugh until I nearly split my side, wait in line. It was the longest travel day EVER, considering how not very far we traveled, but whatev.
Cruising isn't for everyone, I've discovered, but guess who it is for? ME! I loved it and am dying to take BB on one to Alaska. Enjoy the pictures...I'm sure when my brain recovers I'll have funnier stories to tell. Wanna see more pictures? Go here: http://picasaweb.google.com/elizabethbake/Bahamas2008.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Where has the time gone?
Things I didn't realize were happening, but which have happened:
1. Molly Ringwald and Kirk Cameron grew up. Don't ask me why I know this, but ABC Family has a new show coming out about a pregnant teenager (hello, Juno?!) and the mom is Molly Freaking Ringwald. I'm so not kidding. Also, Kirk Cameron has a new book about being the Christian father of 6 kids. (Which is significant, because if he were any other religion and had 6 kids, it wouldn't be? I don't get it.)
2. Someone decided it would be a good idea to recycle Beverly Hills, 90210. Like you can mess with perfection. For those of us that watched and remember, Tori Spelling is coming back as Donna, Jennie Garth as Kelly, and Ian Ziering as Steve. They're going to be the older, grown-up versions of their former characters, with Lori Loughlin and Rob Estes as the parents of the Mid-Western family that moves to BH. Of course, we all remember Lori from "Full House" and I remember Rob from "Silk Stalkings" - which still I wish I had on DVD. Anyway, I love a good flashback and this provided one for me.
3. Ryan Maxey went out and made something of himself. Please do not assume that I am surprised; I am not. I'm merely pointing out the fact that our class clown, our no-good trouble-maker friend, the hilarious guy who, when he was around, had our parents' eagle eyes on him, now lives in San Francisco and runs a poncy restaurant where he is also the sommelier. At EW's wedding, he was uber-friendly and remembered random things about me, like when I moved to Hendersonville and that I went to Sweet Briar because my grandmother went there. Boy I wish I'd kept in touch with him...
4. All the weeks until the cruise passed. One day, we had six weeks left. And then suddenly, we leave tomorrow. I'm not sure I'm ready, though luckily the birth certificate was located. I was born at 2:56 pm; my mom was 26 and my dad 38 years old at the time. Just in case you wanted to know.
5. I got old. My passport picture is from my senior year in college, and now I have wrinkles. I never thought I had wrinkles. I don't notice them in the mirror really, nor do I worry about them particularly. But I compared the passport picture with another picture of me, and oh my god. I got old.
More later...
1. Molly Ringwald and Kirk Cameron grew up. Don't ask me why I know this, but ABC Family has a new show coming out about a pregnant teenager (hello, Juno?!) and the mom is Molly Freaking Ringwald. I'm so not kidding. Also, Kirk Cameron has a new book about being the Christian father of 6 kids. (Which is significant, because if he were any other religion and had 6 kids, it wouldn't be? I don't get it.)
2. Someone decided it would be a good idea to recycle Beverly Hills, 90210. Like you can mess with perfection. For those of us that watched and remember, Tori Spelling is coming back as Donna, Jennie Garth as Kelly, and Ian Ziering as Steve. They're going to be the older, grown-up versions of their former characters, with Lori Loughlin and Rob Estes as the parents of the Mid-Western family that moves to BH. Of course, we all remember Lori from "Full House" and I remember Rob from "Silk Stalkings" - which still I wish I had on DVD. Anyway, I love a good flashback and this provided one for me.
3. Ryan Maxey went out and made something of himself. Please do not assume that I am surprised; I am not. I'm merely pointing out the fact that our class clown, our no-good trouble-maker friend, the hilarious guy who, when he was around, had our parents' eagle eyes on him, now lives in San Francisco and runs a poncy restaurant where he is also the sommelier. At EW's wedding, he was uber-friendly and remembered random things about me, like when I moved to Hendersonville and that I went to Sweet Briar because my grandmother went there. Boy I wish I'd kept in touch with him...
4. All the weeks until the cruise passed. One day, we had six weeks left. And then suddenly, we leave tomorrow. I'm not sure I'm ready, though luckily the birth certificate was located. I was born at 2:56 pm; my mom was 26 and my dad 38 years old at the time. Just in case you wanted to know.
5. I got old. My passport picture is from my senior year in college, and now I have wrinkles. I never thought I had wrinkles. I don't notice them in the mirror really, nor do I worry about them particularly. But I compared the passport picture with another picture of me, and oh my god. I got old.
More later...
Monday, May 26, 2008
Name Schmame
Leave it to me to wait until the last minute for important things, such as, oh, a passport. Yesterday afternoon I was going down my list of things I needed to get and do to be ready for our trip on Thursday. Laundry - check. Suitcase - check. Passport - oh crap. It seems that the last time I used my passport was on my honeymoon, and at that point in my life, I was still going by "Davis" as opposed to Bakdavi. (Holla, Higsley!) Lo and behold, I opened up my passport yesterday and there, in blazing black type: Davis, Margaret Elizabeth. Shite. That's not me! I'm Baker, Elizabeth Davis. Crap crap crap.
Cross your fingers with me, right now, that my birth certificate is sitting in my parents' lockbox down at First Citizens and can be retrieved after Memorial Day. Be ye not so stupid - change your names everywhere when you get hitched. You'll regret it if you don't. In the wise words of my mother, "Oh honey, just take your birth certificate, your passport, your driver's license and your marriage certificate - surely they'll just realize that you got married but that you are who you say you are." Uh huh.
So Friday night was a blast. Higsley talked me into going out (as in, out out) with her to meet Beth and Andy at White Collar Crime. My first trip to White Collar Crime was a little, well, trippy. Beth had a "Death to Beth's 20's" birthday party in February, and everyone followed directions to the letter - I thought I'd landed either in purgatory or some Goth version of a scary 30th birthday party. Turns out, as Higsley noted, that it's not so much that White Collar Crime is Goth, just that it happened to be that way for Beth's birthday. White Collar Crime is a mish-mash of people, as was evidenced by the half-naked teenagers standing at the bar. Overheard during a Phil Collins/Nine Inch Nails remix: "Ugh, what is this crap? My mom listens to this shit. I'm so over it."
Anyhoo, I feel a little guilty for giving Higs a hard time - she's in looooove with a nice boy named Mark, and she is in that fortunate honeymoon stage where the sound of his voice makes her heart race more than a little. They're all long-distancey and such, so her phone rang off the hook Friday night and maybe Beth and I weren't the most understanding friends ever. (Maybe I called her when I knew she was on the phone to tell her that I was feeling a tad neglected - but it was totally the Stoli blueberry talking.)
Saturday morning I woke up at my MIL's and we ate smoked salmon on rye and watched "Juno." Best. Movie. Ever. We had a cookout at BB's brother's house that night, and I must say that it wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it would be. The food was good, the kids were...not around me much...and we didn't stay late. Gotta love that.
Now if only I could will the bank to open so I can find my damn birth certificate...
Cross your fingers with me, right now, that my birth certificate is sitting in my parents' lockbox down at First Citizens and can be retrieved after Memorial Day. Be ye not so stupid - change your names everywhere when you get hitched. You'll regret it if you don't. In the wise words of my mother, "Oh honey, just take your birth certificate, your passport, your driver's license and your marriage certificate - surely they'll just realize that you got married but that you are who you say you are." Uh huh.
So Friday night was a blast. Higsley talked me into going out (as in, out out) with her to meet Beth and Andy at White Collar Crime. My first trip to White Collar Crime was a little, well, trippy. Beth had a "Death to Beth's 20's" birthday party in February, and everyone followed directions to the letter - I thought I'd landed either in purgatory or some Goth version of a scary 30th birthday party. Turns out, as Higsley noted, that it's not so much that White Collar Crime is Goth, just that it happened to be that way for Beth's birthday. White Collar Crime is a mish-mash of people, as was evidenced by the half-naked teenagers standing at the bar. Overheard during a Phil Collins/Nine Inch Nails remix: "Ugh, what is this crap? My mom listens to this shit. I'm so over it."
Anyhoo, I feel a little guilty for giving Higs a hard time - she's in looooove with a nice boy named Mark, and she is in that fortunate honeymoon stage where the sound of his voice makes her heart race more than a little. They're all long-distancey and such, so her phone rang off the hook Friday night and maybe Beth and I weren't the most understanding friends ever. (Maybe I called her when I knew she was on the phone to tell her that I was feeling a tad neglected - but it was totally the Stoli blueberry talking.)
Saturday morning I woke up at my MIL's and we ate smoked salmon on rye and watched "Juno." Best. Movie. Ever. We had a cookout at BB's brother's house that night, and I must say that it wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it would be. The food was good, the kids were...not around me much...and we didn't stay late. Gotta love that.
Now if only I could will the bank to open so I can find my damn birth certificate...
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Hello, old friend
Dear Shonda Rimes,
I am writing to thank you eversomuch for taking your head out of your ass and finally writing an episode of your show that's worth waiting for. I heard it was coming. I read and read all about how Shonda and her staff were coming up with the greatest finale to end a rocky season, and I have to hand it to you - you did it right tonight.
Before Grey's Anatomy became the in-thing, the popular show, the watercooler fodder it's become, I was a fan. I was a fan of the characters you created and of the story you told. It's a story that needs telling, and whether it occurs in a hospital, on a battlefield or in my kitchen, it's an important one. You have created characters that remind us a little bit of ourselves, who we want to be, and who we wish we weren't.
The way that your show is written is important to me, not just because I have a deep appreciation for its wit, but because you push boundaries. You draw lines in the sand and then march right past them. Writers everywhere, in entertainment and beyond, would do well to learn a lesson from you, for you used your time wisely during the writers' strike- you recognized where your story had gone astray, and you found ways to bring it back to the life it deserves.
Most everyone I know rolls their eyes at me when they discover how seriously I take the shows I enjoy. But not everyone understands that the reason I love the shows I do is not because I'm a TV addict with no life (shut up, family); the reason I love them is because they articulate things in our lives that we find mundane, but that need that little extra exploration.
So thanks, Shonda. Thanks for a great finale. Thanks for finally realizing that your viewers aren't stupid, just a little impatient for the quality of writing we remember from long ago. Thanks for teaching those of us that aspire to write how to come full circle and hold yourself accountable.
Good luck with the fall - you'll need it. This is a tough act to follow.
I am writing to thank you eversomuch for taking your head out of your ass and finally writing an episode of your show that's worth waiting for. I heard it was coming. I read and read all about how Shonda and her staff were coming up with the greatest finale to end a rocky season, and I have to hand it to you - you did it right tonight.
Before Grey's Anatomy became the in-thing, the popular show, the watercooler fodder it's become, I was a fan. I was a fan of the characters you created and of the story you told. It's a story that needs telling, and whether it occurs in a hospital, on a battlefield or in my kitchen, it's an important one. You have created characters that remind us a little bit of ourselves, who we want to be, and who we wish we weren't.
The way that your show is written is important to me, not just because I have a deep appreciation for its wit, but because you push boundaries. You draw lines in the sand and then march right past them. Writers everywhere, in entertainment and beyond, would do well to learn a lesson from you, for you used your time wisely during the writers' strike- you recognized where your story had gone astray, and you found ways to bring it back to the life it deserves.
Most everyone I know rolls their eyes at me when they discover how seriously I take the shows I enjoy. But not everyone understands that the reason I love the shows I do is not because I'm a TV addict with no life (shut up, family); the reason I love them is because they articulate things in our lives that we find mundane, but that need that little extra exploration.
So thanks, Shonda. Thanks for a great finale. Thanks for finally realizing that your viewers aren't stupid, just a little impatient for the quality of writing we remember from long ago. Thanks for teaching those of us that aspire to write how to come full circle and hold yourself accountable.
Good luck with the fall - you'll need it. This is a tough act to follow.
Be careful what you wish for...
Oh, thank heaven. I'm home, sitting in my cozy little clean office chair, in my mammoth (compared to the Shack) house, which is clean and doesn't smell and I'm pretty sure also doesn't have...things...growing in the corners.
As vacations go, this one was right up there with High Hampton. BB and I had a fabulous time being together (which we never get to do), the food was good, and I read books like it was my job. But friends, let me just say that all wishes do not come true. A free vacation is a free vacation, and we get that, and while we'd like to consider ourselves low maintenance, the truth of the matter is that we actually require a few comforts that we've taken for granted thus far. That's all I'm gonna say about that. But just know that the sign on the front of the "cottage" that reads "Surf Shack" is really just cheap advertising for minimalist quarters designed to please college kids that want to smoke up at night, hit the waves during the day, and for whom showers are optional.
So last night after dinner, I found myself leaning up against the wooden rail of the pier leading down the beach. I was watching the sky turn a hundred different colors, from red to pink, then from blue to gray, and just as the horizon turned that murky shade that makes it hard to discern where ocean ends and sky begins, I felt a warm hand close over mine. Then softly, in my ear: "I love you." Aww, I thought, it's our last night here and Brian's being sweet because he knows I'm missing the old beach house and how we used to drink wine in the gazebo there at this time of night. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're worried that you're gonna fall off the ship next week, aren't you?"
Huh?
His smug little crocodile smile was ruining my sunset moment. "When you get to Miami on Thursday, you're gonna find a little gift in your suitcase from me. I'm packing The Poseidon Adventure and Airport 77 in there just for you!"
Oh, the meanness. He was right, though. I am just a teensy bit worried that I might fall off the ship, like that chick from New Jersey, and maybe I'm a tad anxious that my plane will go down. But do I really need to be reminded? I don't think so.
I have to say though, despite the, uh, basic living arrangements, we really did do some fun stuff. Monday we rode to Oregon Inlet, drove on the beach and briefly sat by the water until the wind forced us to leave. I got some pretty shells to add to my vase at work. We napped a lot, read lots of books and ate out a few times. Tuesday it rained off and on, so we rode to Duck and Corolla, and for the first time in the 7 years I've been going to Nags Head, I saw wild horses. There was a beautiful family of five, walking down the shoreline, where the water meets the sand. The daddy horse was black and walked at the front, a lot faster than the rest. The mama horse stayed at the back and the two juniors walked in between, keep a close eye on their sibling - a new foal! I only know he's new because his legs were all wobbly and his mother kept nudging him along with her nose. I got pictures on my phone, but they're fuzzy. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen - we were in the Pathfinder, not 5 feet away from pure, wild Spanish mustangs. Amazing.
We sat on the beach for a while yesterday morning, but the evil biting flies that come in with the wind from the southwest had at us, so we left after a few hours. We timed it just right though - just before the flies rolled in, we saw porpoises cross in front of us - the water was so calm it looked like they were slicing through glass.
Now we're home - classes have started and I'm helping BB figure out Blackboard. Laundry must be done, thank-you notes written and then sometime tonight, I'm going to take a hot shower in my clean, spacious (ha!) bathroom and crawl into my fresh, clean fabulous sheets.
Ah. That's a vacation.
As vacations go, this one was right up there with High Hampton. BB and I had a fabulous time being together (which we never get to do), the food was good, and I read books like it was my job. But friends, let me just say that all wishes do not come true. A free vacation is a free vacation, and we get that, and while we'd like to consider ourselves low maintenance, the truth of the matter is that we actually require a few comforts that we've taken for granted thus far. That's all I'm gonna say about that. But just know that the sign on the front of the "cottage" that reads "Surf Shack" is really just cheap advertising for minimalist quarters designed to please college kids that want to smoke up at night, hit the waves during the day, and for whom showers are optional.
So last night after dinner, I found myself leaning up against the wooden rail of the pier leading down the beach. I was watching the sky turn a hundred different colors, from red to pink, then from blue to gray, and just as the horizon turned that murky shade that makes it hard to discern where ocean ends and sky begins, I felt a warm hand close over mine. Then softly, in my ear: "I love you." Aww, I thought, it's our last night here and Brian's being sweet because he knows I'm missing the old beach house and how we used to drink wine in the gazebo there at this time of night. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're worried that you're gonna fall off the ship next week, aren't you?"
Huh?
His smug little crocodile smile was ruining my sunset moment. "When you get to Miami on Thursday, you're gonna find a little gift in your suitcase from me. I'm packing The Poseidon Adventure and Airport 77 in there just for you!"
Oh, the meanness. He was right, though. I am just a teensy bit worried that I might fall off the ship, like that chick from New Jersey, and maybe I'm a tad anxious that my plane will go down. But do I really need to be reminded? I don't think so.
I have to say though, despite the, uh, basic living arrangements, we really did do some fun stuff. Monday we rode to Oregon Inlet, drove on the beach and briefly sat by the water until the wind forced us to leave. I got some pretty shells to add to my vase at work. We napped a lot, read lots of books and ate out a few times. Tuesday it rained off and on, so we rode to Duck and Corolla, and for the first time in the 7 years I've been going to Nags Head, I saw wild horses. There was a beautiful family of five, walking down the shoreline, where the water meets the sand. The daddy horse was black and walked at the front, a lot faster than the rest. The mama horse stayed at the back and the two juniors walked in between, keep a close eye on their sibling - a new foal! I only know he's new because his legs were all wobbly and his mother kept nudging him along with her nose. I got pictures on my phone, but they're fuzzy. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen - we were in the Pathfinder, not 5 feet away from pure, wild Spanish mustangs. Amazing.
We sat on the beach for a while yesterday morning, but the evil biting flies that come in with the wind from the southwest had at us, so we left after a few hours. We timed it just right though - just before the flies rolled in, we saw porpoises cross in front of us - the water was so calm it looked like they were slicing through glass.
Now we're home - classes have started and I'm helping BB figure out Blackboard. Laundry must be done, thank-you notes written and then sometime tonight, I'm going to take a hot shower in my clean, spacious (ha!) bathroom and crawl into my fresh, clean fabulous sheets.
Ah. That's a vacation.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The Surf Shack
Hello, kids. I'm writing to you now from the aptly-named "Surf Shack," the place my MIL rented (sight unseen) for us at Nags Head. I have plenty to tell you about, but Brian's got an eagle eye on my laptop's battery light, as I forgot to bring the charger and he's all panicked that it will power down right as he posts to his Finance 591 discussion board. (Bo-ring.)
Quick preview of what's to come:
We've been locked out. With groceries. The wind is so strong I feel as though I've had a facelift. And I can't wait to fill you in on all the juicy details between the locked-out episode and the new foal I saw on the beach at Corolla this morning.
Stay tuned!
xoxo,
Nags Head Girl
Quick preview of what's to come:
We've been locked out. With groceries. The wind is so strong I feel as though I've had a facelift. And I can't wait to fill you in on all the juicy details between the locked-out episode and the new foal I saw on the beach at Corolla this morning.
Stay tuned!
xoxo,
Nags Head Girl
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Gator Boxes
10 things I'm looking forward to in the next 10 days:
1. The beach with Anne. The beach with Brian. The beach in general.
2. Elizabeth's wedding. Kind of like mine, except in the Episcopal church and with twice as many bridesmaids. And this time, I get to enjoy it.
3. Using my Tory Burch red croc clutch. It's soft and supple and lovely and gorgeous and I'm hoping that many, many people will be jealous.
4. Sleeping. I've forgotten what it's like and I miss it terribly.
5. Reading. I've forgotten what it's like and I miss it terribly.
6. Listening to my iPod for longer than 30 seconds. It was comparable to brain surgery, but I replaced the battery in my mini and now it works. Hallelujah.
7. Summer school. I'm taking Electronic Writing & Publishing during the 1st session and I so can't wait. I'm hoping they'll teach me how to hack into The Herald's website so I can make up funny stories about people I know and post them there.
8. The next installment of "Ghost Man on Third." My brother plays in a kickball league (yup, I said kickball!) on a team called "Alligator Mailbox." It's what he would've named a band if he had one, but he doesn't. GMOT is the newsletter he writes to recap the happenings of his league. With names like Ballasgna, Alligator Mailbox and 2 Legit 2 Kick, these teams could be playing Yahtzee and I'd still read about it. Go Gator Boxes!
9. My haircut. I heard through the grapevine that my hair girl is pregnant. I've gotta get the scoop firsthand.
10. Celebrating our anniversary. It's today. Four years. Seems like 40 sometimes, but they've all been good ones!
1. The beach with Anne. The beach with Brian. The beach in general.
2. Elizabeth's wedding. Kind of like mine, except in the Episcopal church and with twice as many bridesmaids. And this time, I get to enjoy it.
3. Using my Tory Burch red croc clutch. It's soft and supple and lovely and gorgeous and I'm hoping that many, many people will be jealous.
4. Sleeping. I've forgotten what it's like and I miss it terribly.
5. Reading. I've forgotten what it's like and I miss it terribly.
6. Listening to my iPod for longer than 30 seconds. It was comparable to brain surgery, but I replaced the battery in my mini and now it works. Hallelujah.
7. Summer school. I'm taking Electronic Writing & Publishing during the 1st session and I so can't wait. I'm hoping they'll teach me how to hack into The Herald's website so I can make up funny stories about people I know and post them there.
8. The next installment of "Ghost Man on Third." My brother plays in a kickball league (yup, I said kickball!) on a team called "Alligator Mailbox." It's what he would've named a band if he had one, but he doesn't. GMOT is the newsletter he writes to recap the happenings of his league. With names like Ballasgna, Alligator Mailbox and 2 Legit 2 Kick, these teams could be playing Yahtzee and I'd still read about it. Go Gator Boxes!
9. My haircut. I heard through the grapevine that my hair girl is pregnant. I've gotta get the scoop firsthand.
10. Celebrating our anniversary. It's today. Four years. Seems like 40 sometimes, but they've all been good ones!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
I love it when I'm smart
So remember last week when I was talking about Heather Armstrong, and how awesome I think she is, and how cool her blog is, and how everyone else should worship and adore her, too? Well finally, ABC News listened to me. (Like they should've been doing all along, hello?!) Anyway, in case you haven't gotten the picture yet, I looooove Heather Armstrong and wish to be her one day.
Anyhoo, what's up? I'm perky this morning, mainly because I slept crazy good under the coziness of my down-alternative satin-edged blanket, which is unfortunately too large to take with me on the cruise. I have, however, found a lovely alternative! Lug makes this fabulous travel pillow/blanket set called the "Nap Sac." How cute is that? I got it in aqua and I'm in love with it. So much so that I brought it to the office yesterday to show it off. (No, I do not nap in my office, though that's not a bad idea.)
In other news, have I mentioned how annoyed I am with lucky people? Let me give you a for-instance. Take my brother. He's 26, single-but-dating, lives in a ratty nasty frat-type house with two other boys and a kegerator, has no job and showers only when necessary. Since the day he was born, he's waltzed through life not really giving a shit about much of anything. Yet...things just fall into place. Don't you hate people like that? So fine, it did take him 5 years to graduate from college, and yes, he's had a string of bizarro stalker girlfriends (current one excluded, of course), but mostly, he just does what he wants and magically things work out for him.
Last summer, he decided to leave his good job with regular pay to...do nothing. He worked on the farm project for a while, but since that's over, he's been sleeping late, playing on the Internet and organizing his kickball league (I kid you not). He drinks wine til the wee hours, sleeps until he feels like getting up, and has discovered hydroponic gardening. The current joke is that he has some mysterious "second income," but my mother says I need to stop talking about that, or else people will begin to think that he's growing something else in his hydroponic garden (is the idea really that farfetched, Mom?). Anyway, yesterday he goes in to talk to his former bosses, who are desperate for him to return to the fold, and he gives them his "demands:" he doesn't want to commute, he doesn't want to have to pay for gas or a phone, he wants them to open a Raleigh office basically for him, and he wants x amount of money.
Surprise! They're calling him back today with an offer. Are you kidding me?! Let me tell my employer, the US Dept. of Education, that I have "demands." That's like, code or something, for a hostage-taker. I'd bet my life savings that when his former bosses call him today, Drew will get exactly what he wants, when he wants it. It's just that way.
And finally, I forgot what classes I signed up for this summer, and so yesterday I tried to register for the second section of something I'm already taking. Burn out, maybe? Anyway, it turns out that I'm taking electronic writing and publishing! Yay! One of my projects is to design and publish a website (hello, new blog site!) as well as to learn HTML. Wish me luck...
4 days til the beach...
15 days til the cruise!
Anyhoo, what's up? I'm perky this morning, mainly because I slept crazy good under the coziness of my down-alternative satin-edged blanket, which is unfortunately too large to take with me on the cruise. I have, however, found a lovely alternative! Lug makes this fabulous travel pillow/blanket set called the "Nap Sac." How cute is that? I got it in aqua and I'm in love with it. So much so that I brought it to the office yesterday to show it off. (No, I do not nap in my office, though that's not a bad idea.)
In other news, have I mentioned how annoyed I am with lucky people? Let me give you a for-instance. Take my brother. He's 26, single-but-dating, lives in a ratty nasty frat-type house with two other boys and a kegerator, has no job and showers only when necessary. Since the day he was born, he's waltzed through life not really giving a shit about much of anything. Yet...things just fall into place. Don't you hate people like that? So fine, it did take him 5 years to graduate from college, and yes, he's had a string of bizarro stalker girlfriends (current one excluded, of course), but mostly, he just does what he wants and magically things work out for him.
Last summer, he decided to leave his good job with regular pay to...do nothing. He worked on the farm project for a while, but since that's over, he's been sleeping late, playing on the Internet and organizing his kickball league (I kid you not). He drinks wine til the wee hours, sleeps until he feels like getting up, and has discovered hydroponic gardening. The current joke is that he has some mysterious "second income," but my mother says I need to stop talking about that, or else people will begin to think that he's growing something else in his hydroponic garden (is the idea really that farfetched, Mom?). Anyway, yesterday he goes in to talk to his former bosses, who are desperate for him to return to the fold, and he gives them his "demands:" he doesn't want to commute, he doesn't want to have to pay for gas or a phone, he wants them to open a Raleigh office basically for him, and he wants x amount of money.
Surprise! They're calling him back today with an offer. Are you kidding me?! Let me tell my employer, the US Dept. of Education, that I have "demands." That's like, code or something, for a hostage-taker. I'd bet my life savings that when his former bosses call him today, Drew will get exactly what he wants, when he wants it. It's just that way.
And finally, I forgot what classes I signed up for this summer, and so yesterday I tried to register for the second section of something I'm already taking. Burn out, maybe? Anyway, it turns out that I'm taking electronic writing and publishing! Yay! One of my projects is to design and publish a website (hello, new blog site!) as well as to learn HTML. Wish me luck...
4 days til the beach...
15 days til the cruise!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
I'm Not Ready to be Awake
My eyelids are so heavy right now I can hardly stand it. Today is Day #3 of the Four-Day Summer Workweek bonanza, and I'm starting to become a zombie. It's 10:00 am, I've been here almost four hours already and the summer is looming large and long ahead of me. At least class starts for me next weekend, and I'll have something to keep me busy until the end of July.
If you're wondering how it went with Bill Clinton on Monday, check out the link and you'll see his front porch stump at the Raglands'. (The back of my head is in there at the beginning, 10 points if you find it.) Unfortunately I missed Bill himself, thanks to the fact that he was over an hour late and it was about 1,000 degrees out there on the pavement under the sun. I thought I might be a little in danger of losing my job when I'd been gone 2 1/2 hours for lunch, so we left early. But I did get to see the Secret Service guys and all of Hillary's little college interns. The best comment I heard about all the hullabaloo came from my dad, who said, "I'd love to go out there and shake Clinton's hand. Then I can tell him that I didn't have sex with that woman, either." Classic!
In other news, at least two of our students that were planning to graduate Tuesday won't. My favorite part is that they're all shocked... "What?! I'm not walking?! I failed?! But I thought I could pass even if I didn't turn in that paper/ever show up to class/do anything my instructor told me to do." Probably I should feel bad for them, but I don't. Probably I'll feel bad for me when they show up next semester all whiny because they don't want to retake the classes they failed. Blah blah blah...can you tell it's summer?
There are only 21 days left until the cruise!!!! We got our documents on Monday, which tells us in detail what excursions they offer (there are about 50 of them, and they all cost about $100 for like 10 minutes of stuff). The book also tells us, in great detail, exactly what they'll do to us if they find we've smuggled alcohol on board. Luckily for me, Andrea is in charge of that. Wouldn't it be something if they booted her off in Nassau? Extra vacation days, anyone?
And finally, I had to go to the optometrist yesterday afternoon so that he could dilate my eyes and make sure my retinas are all happy and pretty (which they are). Afterwards, I had to ride home with my eyes shut behind sunglasses, because the sun hurt so doggone bad I wanted to cry. Today is BB's birthday, so I attempted to make his birthday cake and the black bean salsa I need for our graduation party while my eyes were still a little fuzzy. Baaaad idea. After the can of Rotel went into the cake batter, I decided to call it quits on the cooking. Here's hoping that nobody bites into their Mississippi Mud Cake tonight and chomps on a surprise jalapeno! On the other hand, that black bean salsa won't be near as hot as it should've been...it'll be a little sweet with a faint hint of fudge brownie. Rock on.
More blogging later...I have to pretend to do some work now.
If you're wondering how it went with Bill Clinton on Monday, check out the link and you'll see his front porch stump at the Raglands'. (The back of my head is in there at the beginning, 10 points if you find it.) Unfortunately I missed Bill himself, thanks to the fact that he was over an hour late and it was about 1,000 degrees out there on the pavement under the sun. I thought I might be a little in danger of losing my job when I'd been gone 2 1/2 hours for lunch, so we left early. But I did get to see the Secret Service guys and all of Hillary's little college interns. The best comment I heard about all the hullabaloo came from my dad, who said, "I'd love to go out there and shake Clinton's hand. Then I can tell him that I didn't have sex with that woman, either." Classic!
In other news, at least two of our students that were planning to graduate Tuesday won't. My favorite part is that they're all shocked... "What?! I'm not walking?! I failed?! But I thought I could pass even if I didn't turn in that paper/ever show up to class/do anything my instructor told me to do." Probably I should feel bad for them, but I don't. Probably I'll feel bad for me when they show up next semester all whiny because they don't want to retake the classes they failed. Blah blah blah...can you tell it's summer?
There are only 21 days left until the cruise!!!! We got our documents on Monday, which tells us in detail what excursions they offer (there are about 50 of them, and they all cost about $100 for like 10 minutes of stuff). The book also tells us, in great detail, exactly what they'll do to us if they find we've smuggled alcohol on board. Luckily for me, Andrea is in charge of that. Wouldn't it be something if they booted her off in Nassau? Extra vacation days, anyone?
And finally, I had to go to the optometrist yesterday afternoon so that he could dilate my eyes and make sure my retinas are all happy and pretty (which they are). Afterwards, I had to ride home with my eyes shut behind sunglasses, because the sun hurt so doggone bad I wanted to cry. Today is BB's birthday, so I attempted to make his birthday cake and the black bean salsa I need for our graduation party while my eyes were still a little fuzzy. Baaaad idea. After the can of Rotel went into the cake batter, I decided to call it quits on the cooking. Here's hoping that nobody bites into their Mississippi Mud Cake tonight and chomps on a surprise jalapeno! On the other hand, that black bean salsa won't be near as hot as it should've been...it'll be a little sweet with a faint hint of fudge brownie. Rock on.
More blogging later...I have to pretend to do some work now.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
One more thing
Every week or month or so, I find someone that I really wish I could be. Like when I was a kid, I wanted to be my camp counselor, Kim. Then after that, I wanted to be my other camp counselor, blank. (I can see her face clear as a bell, but her name...I have no idea.) Later on in life, I wanted to be one of those people who knew a bunch of famous people.
Now, I want to be Heather Armstrong and Sloane Crosley all rolled up into one. Check out the list on the right of my favorite blogs this week, and see what I'm talking about. Perhaps you don't think they're funny. Perhaps you think I'm weird. (Then go read somewhere else.) But I'm telling you, these girls are genius. And my ultimate goal, other than becoming one of those women on tv that elicit a "Daaamn!" from Brian Baker, is to write and be funny and not care what people think and attract a following like these girls have.
In my little, itty bitty world, these women are my heroes. Aside from you, Mom. And speaking of moms, Lucy and Charlie should absolutely go out and buy me "I Was Told There'd Be Cake" for Mother's Day. Not because I deserve it or because I'm a good cat mommy, but because I want it desperately and need it for my vacays.
Oh, and also, check out Jonathan Martin's blog on Politico.com. He's a smarty too, and not because I knew him in college and because he broke up with my former BFF (this is going to come back and bite me in the ass, but great move, Martin!), but because he just is really smart.
Now, I want to be Heather Armstrong and Sloane Crosley all rolled up into one. Check out the list on the right of my favorite blogs this week, and see what I'm talking about. Perhaps you don't think they're funny. Perhaps you think I'm weird. (Then go read somewhere else.) But I'm telling you, these girls are genius. And my ultimate goal, other than becoming one of those women on tv that elicit a "Daaamn!" from Brian Baker, is to write and be funny and not care what people think and attract a following like these girls have.
In my little, itty bitty world, these women are my heroes. Aside from you, Mom. And speaking of moms, Lucy and Charlie should absolutely go out and buy me "I Was Told There'd Be Cake" for Mother's Day. Not because I deserve it or because I'm a good cat mommy, but because I want it desperately and need it for my vacays.
Oh, and also, check out Jonathan Martin's blog on Politico.com. He's a smarty too, and not because I knew him in college and because he broke up with my former BFF (this is going to come back and bite me in the ass, but great move, Martin!), but because he just is really smart.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Happy May Day to meeeee!
It's here, it's here! Finally, May has arrived. May of the birthdays, May of the anniversaries, of Mother's Day, and May of the VACATIONS! That's right peeps, the Baker Beach Extravaganza commences on May 18, three days post-anniversary, 9 days post-BB's birthday, and 11 days pre-cruise. Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait.
So I've been MIA for the last week or so, mainly because a lot's been going on and I just haven't had the energy to blog about it. But here are some highlights, followed by some lowlights for kicks.
1. I had my Silpada jewelry party. It was fun, people bought stuff, I got free jewelry. What's not to love?
2. Dad's birthday featured the best food ever. And Brian showed up in time for jokes and stories. Always the best part of a Davis family birthday dinner.
3. The slideshow and ode to Toney Bond were not only hits, they've been the talk of the school this week. Our creativity abounds and we're starting to get reputations for being witty and fabulous. As if we didn't have those before. Puh-leeze.
4. Tonight is my last night class. Ever. Or at least for now. I can go home every night after work and rest assured that no one will call me to ask me where the answer key is to the 6-way paragraphs, or why one of my students didn't show up. Thank god for small things.
UPDATE:
I never posted this blog, because I got busy doing other stuff and, well, I forgot. But I do have breaking news (and no, for the 35th time, I am not pregnant!!!):
Former President Bill Clinton will be in Smithfield tomorrow! I kid you not. He's going to be at the home of some friends of my parents (ok, "friends" is an exaggeration, but they do know them) at 1:30 Monday afternoon and hello?! I'm so going to be there.
To clarify: I do not like Bill Clinton. I do not like Hillary Clinton. I particularly don't like Chelsea Clinton (there's no need to be rude to strangers). I think anyone whose friends suddenly "disappear" after pissing them off is entirely suspect and completely sleazy (and probably has Mob ties). However, this is Bill Clinton. How often does star power like that, sleazy or not, come to Smithfield? Never, I tell you.
So I'm going. 10-hour days start tomorrow and since I only get 30 minutes for lunch, I'll probably have to take time off to go, but it's so worth it to me. If only I could find a date...all my Democratic friends that might actually enjoy it live far away. The rest of the people I know are Republicans and would rather watch paint dry than go.
I'm going to Rite Aid right now to buy a disposable camera and I'll report back tomorrow afternoon. I have high hopes that not everyone in Johnston County was invited, and therefore I'll have a good view of Slick Willy. But we'll see.
Stay tuned... the NC primary is Tuesday and a lot can happen between now and then!
I never posted this blog, because I got busy doing other stuff and, well, I forgot. But I do have breaking news (and no, for the 35th time, I am not pregnant!!!):
Former President Bill Clinton will be in Smithfield tomorrow! I kid you not. He's going to be at the home of some friends of my parents (ok, "friends" is an exaggeration, but they do know them) at 1:30 Monday afternoon and hello?! I'm so going to be there.
To clarify: I do not like Bill Clinton. I do not like Hillary Clinton. I particularly don't like Chelsea Clinton (there's no need to be rude to strangers). I think anyone whose friends suddenly "disappear" after pissing them off is entirely suspect and completely sleazy (and probably has Mob ties). However, this is Bill Clinton. How often does star power like that, sleazy or not, come to Smithfield? Never, I tell you.
So I'm going. 10-hour days start tomorrow and since I only get 30 minutes for lunch, I'll probably have to take time off to go, but it's so worth it to me. If only I could find a date...all my Democratic friends that might actually enjoy it live far away. The rest of the people I know are Republicans and would rather watch paint dry than go.
I'm going to Rite Aid right now to buy a disposable camera and I'll report back tomorrow afternoon. I have high hopes that not everyone in Johnston County was invited, and therefore I'll have a good view of Slick Willy. But we'll see.
Stay tuned... the NC primary is Tuesday and a lot can happen between now and then!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Thanks
My dad celebrates another birthday tomorrow. I didn't know last year how much this year would hang in the balance, but it has; I think we will all blow out the candles together and cross our fingers for moments of joy.
I am utterly grateful to the man that taught me how to go after what I want, to take nothing for granted, to protect what's important and to never sell myself short. I love you and I will miss you...and I feel as though an important chapter in my life is closing.
My marriage and my cats turn four. I know that five is somehow symbolic of a milestone, but I choose to think that four years are a milestone in and of themselves. Four years - four of us. It fits.
For all of the holidays, the celebrations, the good-byes, the good-lucks, the welcomes and the I-miss-yous, here's hoping that I can say what I feel to those that need to hear it.
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put ‘em in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead,
If you only could . . .
Say what you need to say
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You’d better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Say what you need to say
-John Mayer
Monday, April 14, 2008
What's with the Mondays?
Here it is again...another disappointment for the home team. Without too many details, let's just say that a) people aren't who they seem to be, b) never trust a stranger from Craig's List (it seems so obvious, doesn't it?) and c) optimism does occasionally set you up for disaster.
So anyway, the treadmill guy never showed and didn't have the balls to call me about it. He sent me an email late last night and was all "the wife wanted to shop around" and "we decided on a different one." Blah blah. Tell me you don't want it and get it over with so I can go about my day and not sit around the house waiting for a phone call. Ugh, the lack of manners never ceases to amaze me.
Then I show up for work and the first words I hear (yet again) are, "Oh, you didn't know that?" If I had a dollar for every time I heard that over the last four months, I swear I could retire. No lie. While loose lips might sink ships, secrets certainly don't make friends. So I guess the question is - do you want a ship or a friend? Marinate on that one for a bit.
In other news, I somehow bent the key to the Pathfinder and almost couldn't leave at lunchtime. That would've been super bad since BB has the wagon in Goldsboro and the spare key to the Pathy with him. Bad news bears. I shoved it in there far enough to at least turn the engine over, but almost couldn't get it out. There's a reason 10 year-old cars with 175,000 miles on them end up being the third-car-we-don't-drive-but-keep-around-for-hauling-stuff-in.
Also in other news, I logged into Facebook this weekend and found this whole other world that I forgot that I belong to. (No, not the Facebook world, the world of I-used-to-know-you-when.) The world is getting smaller and smaller and people that I know also know other people that I didn't know they knew, and well, it gets confusing. I remember now why I went to Sweet Briar and lived in DC for a bit. It's that whole clean slate thing. When the world I live in gets too small, claustrophobia sends me packing. Might have to delete the profiles on Facebook and MySpace.
Somehow the lady that cleans our offices has gotten the impression that I am interested in her bowling league. I really don't know where that came from, nor do I know anything about bowling. But I've started getting weekly updates on her "frames" and "anchor bowlers" and "scratch" games. Seriously with this? I used to fake phone calls when I'd hear her coming down the hall, but she caught me with her silent sneakers today. I never had a chance.
And finally, thanks for asking, the bangs are...bangs. They're fine for now, but probably I won't get them cut again. I always think they'll be magical, but they just never are. Oh well. Live and learn.
So anyway, the treadmill guy never showed and didn't have the balls to call me about it. He sent me an email late last night and was all "the wife wanted to shop around" and "we decided on a different one." Blah blah. Tell me you don't want it and get it over with so I can go about my day and not sit around the house waiting for a phone call. Ugh, the lack of manners never ceases to amaze me.
Then I show up for work and the first words I hear (yet again) are, "Oh, you didn't know that?" If I had a dollar for every time I heard that over the last four months, I swear I could retire. No lie. While loose lips might sink ships, secrets certainly don't make friends. So I guess the question is - do you want a ship or a friend? Marinate on that one for a bit.
In other news, I somehow bent the key to the Pathfinder and almost couldn't leave at lunchtime. That would've been super bad since BB has the wagon in Goldsboro and the spare key to the Pathy with him. Bad news bears. I shoved it in there far enough to at least turn the engine over, but almost couldn't get it out. There's a reason 10 year-old cars with 175,000 miles on them end up being the third-car-we-don't-drive-but-keep-around-for-hauling-stuff-in.
Also in other news, I logged into Facebook this weekend and found this whole other world that I forgot that I belong to. (No, not the Facebook world, the world of I-used-to-know-you-when.) The world is getting smaller and smaller and people that I know also know other people that I didn't know they knew, and well, it gets confusing. I remember now why I went to Sweet Briar and lived in DC for a bit. It's that whole clean slate thing. When the world I live in gets too small, claustrophobia sends me packing. Might have to delete the profiles on Facebook and MySpace.
Somehow the lady that cleans our offices has gotten the impression that I am interested in her bowling league. I really don't know where that came from, nor do I know anything about bowling. But I've started getting weekly updates on her "frames" and "anchor bowlers" and "scratch" games. Seriously with this? I used to fake phone calls when I'd hear her coming down the hall, but she caught me with her silent sneakers today. I never had a chance.
And finally, thanks for asking, the bangs are...bangs. They're fine for now, but probably I won't get them cut again. I always think they'll be magical, but they just never are. Oh well. Live and learn.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Red, red wine, you make me feel so fine...
Happy Sunday! Want to know why it's happy? Oh, sure you do. Let me tell you about it...and the rest of my weekend.
1. Today is the day that some strange man who found me on Craig's List comes to my house to buy the treadmill! Yay! (Quick backstory: I thought I would use a treadmill every single day if I bought one. So I did, from my co-worker. I didn't tell Brian. He got mad, because I don't use it and because it weighs more than our house and he had to move it. So he made me put it on Craig's List. I'm getting rid of the damn thing, but I'm also upping the price - if I can't keep it, I should at least make a profit on it.)
2. My weekend has been all kinds of full of Anne P. Friday night - deliciously fun. Saturday afternoon - surprise phone call with invitation to spaghetti dinner. Saturday night - more delicious fun in a stunningly beautiful house. I might have to stalk that family, if only for their back porch. Brian wouldn't miss me if I moved there, I don't think. I should move there.
3. I poisoned Heather. It wasn't on purpose, because I like Heather very much. But one minute she's all happy and drinky, and the next minute she's all sick and green. The only thing that happened in between the two was a meal I made for her. Who knew I had the power to inflict illness? She says it wasn't the food, but I wonder...
4. This weekend in April is always one of my favorites. It's Cotillion (which I'm not invited to but still enjoy because I get to pick out fun clothes for my mamacita) and the Masters. Azaleas, warm weather, green everywhere you look, happy drunk people wandering around Smithfield. What's not to love? It's a reminder that spring has sprung. Oh, and go Immelman! You be sure and beat the pants off that Tiger Woods - he has too many green jackets for one man's closet already.
5. I am covered, and I mean covered, in ant bites. Friday night while we were sitting on the patio, I apparently stepped in a giant ant hill and stayed there. And with all the red wine coursing through my veins, I didn't feel the bites until yesterday morning. The itching is akin to poison ivy and I can't find a thing to alleviate it. (And don't email me to tell me to take Benadryl. Nothing has touched these babies.) My feet and ankles look like I have a terrible case of chicken pox, and it's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to scratch. And scratch. And scratch.
Must go scratch now. And prepare the treadmill for it's final destination. Here's to you, the end of my favorite weekend in April; stay sunny, warm and lovely.
1. Today is the day that some strange man who found me on Craig's List comes to my house to buy the treadmill! Yay! (Quick backstory: I thought I would use a treadmill every single day if I bought one. So I did, from my co-worker. I didn't tell Brian. He got mad, because I don't use it and because it weighs more than our house and he had to move it. So he made me put it on Craig's List. I'm getting rid of the damn thing, but I'm also upping the price - if I can't keep it, I should at least make a profit on it.)
2. My weekend has been all kinds of full of Anne P. Friday night - deliciously fun. Saturday afternoon - surprise phone call with invitation to spaghetti dinner. Saturday night - more delicious fun in a stunningly beautiful house. I might have to stalk that family, if only for their back porch. Brian wouldn't miss me if I moved there, I don't think. I should move there.
3. I poisoned Heather. It wasn't on purpose, because I like Heather very much. But one minute she's all happy and drinky, and the next minute she's all sick and green. The only thing that happened in between the two was a meal I made for her. Who knew I had the power to inflict illness? She says it wasn't the food, but I wonder...
4. This weekend in April is always one of my favorites. It's Cotillion (which I'm not invited to but still enjoy because I get to pick out fun clothes for my mamacita) and the Masters. Azaleas, warm weather, green everywhere you look, happy drunk people wandering around Smithfield. What's not to love? It's a reminder that spring has sprung. Oh, and go Immelman! You be sure and beat the pants off that Tiger Woods - he has too many green jackets for one man's closet already.
5. I am covered, and I mean covered, in ant bites. Friday night while we were sitting on the patio, I apparently stepped in a giant ant hill and stayed there. And with all the red wine coursing through my veins, I didn't feel the bites until yesterday morning. The itching is akin to poison ivy and I can't find a thing to alleviate it. (And don't email me to tell me to take Benadryl. Nothing has touched these babies.) My feet and ankles look like I have a terrible case of chicken pox, and it's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to scratch. And scratch. And scratch.
Must go scratch now. And prepare the treadmill for it's final destination. Here's to you, the end of my favorite weekend in April; stay sunny, warm and lovely.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Charmed Life
For the past two days, I've been trying to write this blog and nothing comes out like I want it to. Witty ends up sounding bratty, sarcasm sounds just plain rude and chipper comes across as condescending. Don't ask me...it's just the way it is. Normally when I'm like this I just write a list, but even my list isn't working.
My boss is leaving to take a dean's position at another college. I'm sad because our relationship has taken a drastic tumble ever since Christmas and we're not speaking unless absolutely necessary. I think about it every day, he probably never thinks about it, and I'm mourning the loss of a good friend, a great mentor and wonderful leader. And I have no one to talk to about that and the changes that are coming. Normally I would talk to him. But now...
BB and I are going to the beach in May. My MIL has rented a tiny little oceanfront house for us for 5 days as a birthday gift to Brian. I'm so excited, but also wondering if there are ulterior motives here. Last year he got a shirt.
The cruise is six weeks from today. I have six weeks to figure out spray tans, grippy flip flops and dinner attire. I will be off for almost two out of the four weeks of May. We go to the beach, come home, I unpack, re-pack and then head to Miami. June and July are going to be awfully boring. Kristen? Alissa? Anyone? Visit? Please?
Tonight I get to see Anne. The ways in which I love her are too numerous to mention, as is the amount of booze we will consume together. Heather's coming with me - if she and Anne don't get along for some strange reason, my friendship with Heather will meet its unfortunate demise. But I feel sure that they'll be BFFs. It's impossible not to adore Anne.
And finally, I'm considering bangs. It's a big decision for a girl like me. I have an appointment at 12:30. Wish me luck.
My boss is leaving to take a dean's position at another college. I'm sad because our relationship has taken a drastic tumble ever since Christmas and we're not speaking unless absolutely necessary. I think about it every day, he probably never thinks about it, and I'm mourning the loss of a good friend, a great mentor and wonderful leader. And I have no one to talk to about that and the changes that are coming. Normally I would talk to him. But now...
BB and I are going to the beach in May. My MIL has rented a tiny little oceanfront house for us for 5 days as a birthday gift to Brian. I'm so excited, but also wondering if there are ulterior motives here. Last year he got a shirt.
The cruise is six weeks from today. I have six weeks to figure out spray tans, grippy flip flops and dinner attire. I will be off for almost two out of the four weeks of May. We go to the beach, come home, I unpack, re-pack and then head to Miami. June and July are going to be awfully boring. Kristen? Alissa? Anyone? Visit? Please?
Tonight I get to see Anne. The ways in which I love her are too numerous to mention, as is the amount of booze we will consume together. Heather's coming with me - if she and Anne don't get along for some strange reason, my friendship with Heather will meet its unfortunate demise. But I feel sure that they'll be BFFs. It's impossible not to adore Anne.
And finally, I'm considering bangs. It's a big decision for a girl like me. I have an appointment at 12:30. Wish me luck.
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