e.b.'s world

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2007-06-15T18:22:00.001-07:00

I didn't think it would come to this and I wasn't sure that I was ready - but a certain sequence of events led me here - or there...

www.ammanners.wordpress.com

Yes, that is correct - you can find me there as well. It has been quite a move - a lot of effort and a lot of thinking. I love my pink and my flamingo and the wonderful experience I have had here. It is just time. And hey I can always come back. But for now back sure y'all come with me (those readers and such) because I would certainly miss you!

CDBad's

2007-06-14T09:22:00.000-07:00

This will come up again because I am certain that I have not exhausted the topic. It has been bouncing around in my head for days or weeks or something like that and it has driven me mad. To the point that last night it nearly exploded - over some very poorly made Penne a Diablo with fresh vegetables. Magoo, myself, and my father sat down to dinner at a new Tampa restaurant - CDB's - at 7:30. After some initial discussions and a first round of cocktails we ordered. The waitress was mildly unfamiliar with the menu and I chose the dish above despite some confusion. In a timely manner our soup and iceberg lettuce salads with too much oil in their house dressing arrived with an extra side of bread. After the trays were picked up we ordered another round of cocktails and waited. And waited. And waited. We were told it would only be a minute. Or seemingly 45 of them. At 9 we flagged down the manager and kindly asked her to check on our food as we ordered it an hour ago. And again we waited and waited. Another 10 minutes go by and they arrived with our food and to no one's surprise mine was cold. It was evident it was cold before you even touched the entree - the sauce had hardened onto the pasta and vegetables, a sure (and unappetizing) sign. I asked the manager to please bring me a warmer dish and instead of apologizing for the wait or the food, she insisted that the food was just, "left on the line" and that, "she saw it there herself". Well to me that is not an indication the food was warm - in fact it tells me just the opposite - it was sitting on the line. But more so it looked cold and a quick taste told me I was correct. She left and brought me back a new bowl of pasta in mere minutes. This one clearly warm and fresh. Again without apologizing or even asking if things were okay she hovered over my shoulder and demanded that I eat it in front of her because she will not leave until I agreed with her that my meal was now warm. It was. I would have done anything to get her, her attitude, and her breath off my shoulder while I tried to eat. The food itself was mediocre to poor. Especially for something I waited for so long and for something I could have thrown together at home - in less time, for less money, and with far greater results. Certainly with less of a headache.

I was completely unsatisfied and totally disappointed. For quite the obvious reasons, but also because I don't get it. Why be NASTY? What benefit does it do to you or the business you are trying to run (into the ground)? This goes beyond customer service and the service industry. Why be nasty at all? I am trying really hard to understand what the need for it is in our society and in general in the human personality. I want to do my best to be a nice and charming person. No doubt I have my moments of shear and utter evil. I can be a complete bitch and a total crazy person. At times. Which is why I am working hard to curtail it. This attitude gets me all wound up and tired. It drains me and leaves me without any of the intended benefits and usually having to dole out apologies like candy. How about instead, I start with the candy and act saccharine sweet from the get go. Seems easier and more sane. Seems like I would get farther faster and with more overall success. Seems like a better perspective to enjoy. That would have made a difference in this evening's meal. If the manager had been apologetic, or even nice, I would have been far less disappointed. She achieved only one thing from her attitude - there will be three people who will never dine in their establishment again. Which to me seems to be the opposite goal of managing a restaurant. She should have started with dessert and let us decide based on our entree if we were coming back. A dollop of sweet (say like a free dessert) can last an entire meal - especially one that lasted two hours.

I get the flaws and see the other side - if we all existed in a nice friendly and peaceful bubble would these things happen? I am guessing so - shit happens. But we handle it differently, we look at it from a positive perspective and we move on from it faster because of all that. I would like to think that it would be helped overall. I will do my part to maintain that level - living my life with that existence. The best I can do is hope others do so as well. I can also hope others avoid that restaurant.

The Rash That Ate Manhattan Or Me

2007-06-13T04:36:00.000-07:00

The story won’t begin at the beginning because that is just too far away. When it comes down to it the beginning could be pegged at five years old when I entered kindergarten at Temple Zion in Miami Florida. Because that is the technical start of the educational process which culminated in a Juris Doctorate granted twenty years later by the Tulane University College of Law. In those twenty years I essentially prepared for the law degree and was groomed to be a professional. But lets start at the moment that it all began, when the girl became a lawyer. When the fun begins and the laughs never end.

Lets start at the arm pit rash of the summer of 2004. Nothing says professional and grooming like an itchy, oozey, arm pit rash. It began in June, a few short weeks after graduation, as a small irritation, an itch here and there. I was knee high in bar exam preparations and I poured over Bar Bri notes, attending lectures by day and outlining diligently every afternoon. I sweated over it all. Literally. It was Florida in the summer and the expression hot as balls means nothing until you have lived here. Sweat and heat surround your body forming a plastic casing that makes it difficult to breathe and impossible to avoid. So I thought little of the constant itching annoyance under there. I was in a generally irritated state at that point knowing I was devoting an entire summer to studying the laws of Florida. Until one day I looked down at my body and saw a thousand tiny red dots littering the underside of my arm, onto my chest and down my side. Both sides. If you wonder how this went unnoticed then you have never taken the bar exam. It is really really simple. When you live alone and shower only on even numbered days it is actually quite easy. I just never looked. I washed, rinsed, repeated without thinking of much else than criminal procedures and torts.

At the dermatologist she examined my red dots and determined that I was allergic to deodorant. After 25 years I developed an allergy to the single most important beauty item I use. At a time when I cannot experiment or manipulate, I needed things to remain even keel. I could not mess with my routine and I certainly could not mess around with an anti-perspirent. So in response she recommended the most brilliant solution ever - stop wearing deodorant. I politely nodded my head and said I understood and listened to her bogus suggestions about why this happens to people. All the while thinking that this was a load of crap and it was impossible that this women made it through medical school. Does she not get stressed? Does she not understand that it is 117 degrees outside? So it was very very clearly evident that this was not going to happen. A girl cannot sit in a crowded room with 100 strangers on a daily nervous basis studying to take an exam 20 years in the making in the middle of June in Florida and NOT WEAR DEODORANT. But I also could not continue to itch and scratch at my pits during these classes.

So I asked around and tried to find solutions to my problem. Only to find out that of the three total people I surveyed all three were also allergic to deodorant. Hello people? Why don’t I know these things? I did not know this was a condition let alone a common one. Why does nobody share this? It is not embarrassing - not like sweating through your t-shirts and smelling like a dead over ripe animal in a Bar Review course kind of embarrasing. So why were people not talking about this? I needed help so I listened to them. Based on their suggestions I began to use hypo-allergenic deodorant and baby powder when I left the house. I limited that to the few hours I had to be in class. As it did not really do the trick and it certainly did nothing to cure the red itchy heat oozing from my arms. I spent the remaining time at home studying with no shirt on, a cool washcloth under each pit, and a fan blowing on me to ease the heat sensation emanating from my chest area. Anyone wanna guess why I was single.

Well my friends that test taking strategy seemed to serve me well. Because I passed. And the rash went away. And I am not allergic to deodorant. I had hives. Simple as that. Stress induced hives. Hello Dr. Smarty Pants. Ever think of that? Which is why I am starting here. It was the induction into being a lawyer, as everyone has to take the Bar, spend months studying and stressing over it. But also as an introduction to how being a lawyer can make your body react in a physically sick and inappropriate way. Causing red dots, sweat, a stench, an itch, and an inability to go out in public or react appropriately around people. Being a lawyer would prove to be all these things and a few more token bonus goodies too. This was only the beginning of the story.

It's Getting Hot In Here

2007-06-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

Things started off this weekend quite heated. And not of the sexy kind. From Thursday night on there was some serious tension and I would like to take partial blame for dragging it out as long as I did. We benefited from cool down time as I took a solo trip down to Miami. Driving back on Saturday night, with my father at the wheel, we spotted the blazing sunset over the Everglades. Those unfamiliar with the geography - we head due west across the vast expanse of Alligator Ally - and I clicked away capturing the bolden sun as it dipped into the wetlands.

Someone asked and the new camera is a Panasonic, which will have better zoom so these kinds of shots will be even more vibrant. Though hopefully I will not have to make that trip again under those conditions.

On Sunday morning Magoo ran to the store to get breakfast pickings and proudly pulled out an 11 pound bag of cherries. I kid, but it seemed endless and we both realized quickly we would not be able to eat them all.

So while he fiddled around the house and did some awesome home improvement things, I searched for recipes and went back to the store for lunch, dinner, and cherry fixings. At this point it was one and apparently already unbearably hot outside. This was my first foray outdoors all day and the short distance from the house to car left me with sweat trickling down my face and forming at the small of my back. The only way I can describe it, again for those unfamiliar, is like taking a hot bath wearing a wool sweater. It is that uncomfortable, itchy, stifling and wrong. Already hot and bothered I stood in line at the deli counter - my least favorite activity in all the world. I swear my least and I will argue that to my death. Which I thought could come while standing there - from having to beat my head against the glass display as the service was just that horrific and the man/woman (unclear as to the gender as his/her hands were the size of the turkey breast) helping me was in fact not at all helpful. Why is it that this makes me so furious? Already overly annoyed I followed this up at checkout with the man who left his wallet in his car and when retrieved it found out that his credit card was declined. A short trip to the Publix for 17 items turned into an hour debacle. At least they had air conditioning.

Again the walk back to the car from the store with three grocery bags was mind numbingly stifling. Hello summer! Since I was already drenched in sweat, I agreed to walk Ginger and Tom and I got in some exercise. Every single time returning to the house, opening the air conditioned door, and screaming, "holy fuck nuts." We decided to do what seemed logical and most humorous. So myself, Magoo, and a bottle of Jack Daniels enjoyed the rest of the afternoon at the movies. We spent two hours Knocked Up and of course loved every minute of it - what is not to like about absolute humor, a spiked Diet Coke and 65 degree air conditioning?

Coming home slightly buzzed I made dinner, as promised, and tried to make a dent in our bowl full o' cherries. First up cherry salsa. This I made early so we could snack while I cooked and continued to drink and Magoo worked. It sounds wrong and odd (the salsa part- not the me drinking and Magoo working part - because that sounds just about right) but it was delicious and fresh. I forgot to buy the pepper at the store because after the deli counter incident I tried my best to get out of there. Tried being so key. So I used yellow and red onions to give it differing flavors. I also dislike cilantro so I added some red pepper flakes for spice. It worked wonderfully with some chips to dip in or, as the recipe suggests, would probably be good as a topping on a protein.

I then froze an ice mixture of vodka and cherries hoping to make a granita - as inspired by her. While it looks pretty - unfortunately it tasted only like water with mushed cherries - which is actually pretty disgusting. My portions were off. We sipped on the water as a cool refresher to the end of a hot hot weekend and dumped the rest down the drain. We still have cherries left - they appear here to stay along with the sweltering temps from this weekend. Though I hope it continues to remain calm and cool in my house - with plenty of "adult" beverages and good food. And the beautiful beautiful air conditioner.

Downtown Tampa

2007-06-10T08:23:00.000-07:00

For a few Saturdays in May I took a photo class at a local museum. I was served up with some serious photo envy of people's expensive cameras and their ability to take some excellent shots. Not all but some - and that to me was the greatest lesson - seeing other's eyes. You can learn so much from that - in addition to the technical lessons the instructor instilled. Some of which I am not quite sure of and some of which I am still practicing.

The photos I submitted were of downtown scenes you would not expect to see downtown. A home like feel to the space and place I called home - something I felt having worked down there for a few years. It really is a quaint little downtown, we don't even have a Starbucks, but I feel like this especially captures that as you don't really see a high rise structure. Though I have to say my classmates who submitted those were awe inspiring as they made the mundane buildings look beautiful and made Tampa look quite glamorous. To me that is what has been so much fun about photography - the varying ideas, angles, and images and what is conveyed through the lenses. It is educational and inspirational and completely fun - my new camera arrives on Monday so let the games continue.

Blood and Fire

2007-06-08T08:50:00.000-07:00

I am looking for someone, who can take as much as I give,
Give back as much as I need,
And still have the will to live.

I am intense,
I am in need,
I am in pain,
I am in love.

I feel forsaken, like the things I gave away.

(c) Indigo Girls (1989).

Summer Fare

2007-06-07T07:51:00.001-07:00

Okay folks I have been cooking. Yeah, I know I told you all this already. But I cannot stop. Monday I can't quite count because there were these factors and a game of tennis with Ash. But I still managed quite a plate of sliced Fuji's, crusted baguette, fresh mozzarella, and thinly sliced prosciutto. Think Anne's late night anti-pasta with a kick. I pieced it together and picked at it while reading over y'alls work and contemplating large life issues like how to best leave work at 6 pm. You know the basics of any summer time discussion.

To continue on the theme - picking, summer, and light fare - I composed for myself and Magoo, her recipe - a melon-prosciutto salad. Some are smitten with her and I cannot deny them she is excellent and her photos are magic. But I have been taken recently with Ms. Molly's stories and gastronomic tales. So on Tuesday in an ode to her blog I also made her rhubarb dessert. Magoo spent time in Italy as a child and has quite fond memories of ricotta. So much so that last night he sprinkled sugar on it and ate it straight from the container with a spoon. Apparently all the cooking was for naught - I can just hand him a spoon. But the baked dessert was excellent - something so undessert like as it had a magnificent combination of flavors and a bittersweet taste perfect for those who can't handle chocolate-y desserts. I had it again on Wednesday, this time left over and cold, and you know it tasted almost better as the orange zest marinated into the root and the ricotta didn't quite melt, which I found preferable since Magoo is right that is one good cheese. Before the cold rhubarb dessert part two I sliced and diced green and red peppers picked up on a quick side stop to the local farmer's market. I added them into a black bean salad - something I have made a handful of times before always with excellent results. It is perfect over burgers, garden or otherwise, as a chip dip, or a salad topper. It is so fresh and tangy we just eat it up. Unfortunately last night I overestimated the amount of tang and was generous with the red pepper flakes. It was spicy - too spicy for that kind of dish. I threw it on a bed of lettuce, added sugar, and red wine vinegar to even out the hot, cut up another fresh baguette and drowned it all with a beer. Not a bad post work out meal considering my senses were worked out also. By the end I was tearing. To be honest I am a bit disappointed having failed ever so slightly. I am also disappointed that I do not have more evidence to show you of my culinary madhouse. But a new camera is en route to casa Anne so this should not be a problem ever again.

In my excited state over cooking I don't how I could initially forget to mention last night's Cook Off on Top Chef. Season One v. Season Two. We made our bets but Magoo fell asleep before I could cash in on my winnings. How could Season One not win? I was jumping out of my skin excited for all 60 minutes of the goodness. Bravo to Bravo for following through with a brilliant idea and thank you for letting us see Harold, Sam, and Dave again.

**The black bean salad is one I originally took from the Fresh Market website that they have since removed. Smitten Kitchen has a similar one- but I have just been playing it by ear - which failed me ever so slightly last night.

A Genius and A Leash

2007-06-06T08:14:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back Magoo treated himself to a Saturday full of errands which included a trip to the Generic Pet Store. For my life I cannot remember which location has Pet Smart and which has the Pet Savers. To me there is no difference because I cannot also remember which carries Ginger's food and which does not. And I inevitably chose wrong when it comes to that time. To me it is like the color of my toothbrush. I just don't know. There are details of my life that I can never for the life of me remember. Ever. I have a penchant for detail and can tell you that Donna Martin wore a black tube top with a white flower on the first day of school but never in my whole life will I know the color of my toothbrush or which pet store is in which location. So at Generic Strip Mall Pet Store, Magoo purchased a retractable leash for Ginger. He was all hyped up and gung-ho about this development of his progression as a pet owner. He had broached the subject with me a number of times and I dismissed it. We were a family of standard leashes. Quiet, easy, complacent leashes in lovely shades that match the collars. This retractable business was too much for me to consider so I pushed it aside much like his suggestions that I remove my shoes from the front door area. I hear it and I decide it does not jibe with the essence of me so I do nothing about it. Well when you put Magoo alone in Generic Pet Store and hand him a Visa he does what he can. Because lord knows that this tactic WILL WORK TO REMOVE MY SHOES. But I am just saying - I can be bribed. So he bought us the retractable leash and attached it to Ginger's collar and it has been a miserable struggle for me ever since that moment. He poked fun at me and my inability to multi-task while walking the dog. The bag, the bag filled with poop, the retraction mechanism, and quite often the cell phone and of course just plain walking - which often times is one of the biggest challenges. Well I cannot master all these things. And the leash gives me serious anxiety. I cannot control it properly, she is either choking on it or roaming freely through my neighbors bedroom it is just that long. I can never get the mechanism to catch and in seconds she is 199 feet ahead of me eating yesterday's garbage. It is just a mess.

This evening I took her out for her nightly constitutional and at the same time was on the phone with Magoo. This I blame on him. Being in Philadelphia means that I HAVE TO talk on the phone to him while walking the dog. She inevitably made her way around and around a tree while he and I are discussing whether Philadelphia really is dirty and how he could get lost and wind up in New Jersey. I managed to notice that she had some how made two circles around the tree as the leash has that much slack. With my semi-free hand I "unwrapped" her leash trying to undo her circles but only created another one and somehow also a knot. And at this point she still had enough leash to wander aimlessly through the neighbors yard. I say shit very loudly - as now there was a beagle tied to my neighbors tree. I urgently hung up with Magoo, or really just cursed a lot and dropped my phone on the concrete, and again try to reign her in. No luck - there are now two knots. She was gently pulling and trying her best to get into the flower beds. So I do what only seems rational - I sit down on the sidewalk and try to undo the circles and knots to make sure she does no more damage. This must have looked totally normal - who wouldn't feel safe seeing a girl in running shorts sitting on the sidewalk outside their home at 10:30 on a Thursday night? I recognize this and make another well planned move - I take off Ginger's leash. She sees this as any poorly trained dog would - as freedom and she starts to run. I run too, which is not something I do ever or well and especially not in flip-flops. Luckily she sees home as a good destination and I whole heartily agree. I opened the door, grabbed the spare leash, strapped her in, and headed back to the tree. I am getting girlfriend points here, right? I seriously contemplated letting the leash stay there and walking her in the complete opposite direction pretending this NEVER HAPPENED. But, 1) how do I explain to Magoo that his prized leash is tied in knots to a neighbors tree; and 2) what would the neighbors think? So we proceeded back to the tree to untie the knots. This was a smidge easier as there was not a stubborn dog attached to one end pulling on it. But it was still abhorrently difficult as it was night and there are about 73 knots. There was also a friendly neighbor type watching. "How'd ya get so many knots in there?" Now that is the kind of support I am looking for - right to the point and annoying. I ignore him and slowly and mechanically undo every single knot thinking that Magoo better appreciate me rescuing his leash. Because I know that I am NEVER using the damned thing again. We walked the rest of the block with the spare leash all blissful and normal like old times. No thinking involved and the Beagle kept at a normal distance. And when I got home I left my shoes at the front door. That's just how I am.

Cooking Up a Storm

2007-06-04T07:49:00.000-07:00

I think it could have literally been the weather - the storm made me do it. I woke up on Saturday morning with a domestic urge. I wanted to bake. While the music was pumping and the eggs were frying, I arranged a chocolate chip walnut banana bread. It smelled wonderful and came out of the oven just as the rain ended. While the four inches of water was perfect for our parched lawns, the bread was not. There were no eggs in the bread, though the ones served at breakfast were divine, the banana bread was a low fat recipe and tasted just like that. A touch of jam gave it back it's sweetness but that's about it.

Come Sunday and a brand new Van Morrison CD I heated up the kitchen again. Three hours later Magoo and I turned out a pretty rocking meal and invited the girls over to sample and witness Sarah Silverman in all her raunchy glory. The food was good and her jokes were over the top. I peeled all the recipes off the Food Network website - adapting some to our needs including using none of the fat that Paula suggests. Wow that woman loves butter. We dabbled in mixing our own ideas into the pre-cut recipes and tried our hardest to remember what kind of modifications we made and what a 1/2 of a 1/4 is.

At dinner on Saturday night we ordered a cucumber salad that was just perfect - light and savory. Inspired, I picked out this recipe from Wolfgang Puck - with more of an Asian flavor it was still delightful. We munched on it while we waited for Ashley to bring over the wine. I probably could've made that my meal.

We also had a bunch of organic asparagus that needed to be used up and Magoo was itching to try out the new grill - even offering to grill our cereal. I declined the grilled Cherri-o's offer and instead picked out a grilled asparagus recipe from the man who runs the grilling world - Bobby Flay. It turned out wonderful - crisp, clean and spring-y with slightly melted fresh mozzarella giving it a little substance. Even served cold it worked well as an elegant side.
A few months back while laid up from gum surgery I tortured myself by watching hours of cooking shows. I couldn't eat so I figured the second best thing was to look at all the good food. Paula made this salad that looked absolutely ridiculous and the crunch of the Ramen noodles enticed me since at that point the most I was crunching was tomato soup. I finally had the chance and desire to sample the recipe. It really was good - the broccoli and dressing were cheerful and simple. You gotta cut out the butter, oil, and sugar - there is no need for them and honestly it is more flavorful if you sub in some garlic and other seasonings. But still a great accompaniment to a dinner or served by itself as a lunch.
Finally the reason the dinner existed in the first place was the grilled chicken. I told Magoo he was in charge of le chicken but he still insisted I pick out a recipe. We also wanted softer refreshing flavors to go with the excessive heat of the day. While the coriander turned out to be a bold taste the lime evened it out and gave the chicken a tasteful kick. Plus we got to use the limes picked from the tree in our yard. This made us ridiculously giddy and gave us a sense of home grown pride. The recipe called for chicken legs but we made out just fine with fillets - if I must say.

Plus now Magoo feels he sufficiently broke in the grill - so we decided next up are pizzas. Yeah I saw it on the Food Network this weekend, okay you figured me out. The next time a storm approaches or I just feel like standing in the kitchen for hours and having good friends, great food, and perfect music - we will fire it up. All in all I would say it was well played and enjoyed - you can see some of the results here.

**Does anyone know how to get Blogger to cooperate when using bullet points? They are driving me to stick a bullet point into my eye...

Aint She A Beauty

2007-06-03T04:41:00.000-07:00

We have an orchid that Magoo won in an office lottery type give away. She was beautiful with purple and white flowers. She died. I think she could be alive - all the flowers fell of the stem, so there is a chance she could grow back. I just am not sure how to make that happen. I am pretty certain though that I have to do something about it - whereas before all I did was add water. I am thinking that this was not the right step given my result. Or perhaps she needed a special type of water. For a time there Ginger only drank distilled water. There could be something about my house that brings about fancy water requirements. Some have fancy pants - I have fancy plants. I could do a good old fashioned Google search on how to care and not kill orchids.

Or maybe I ask the one person who knows how to handle beauty. It is quite clear these are not my orchids - they are alive and they are not purple and white. These are my mother's orchids - that she has managed to keep alive. A crazy feat. She managed the same with my sister and I as well. Equally as perplexing and crazy. So she seems to know what she is doing and she certainly has me beat on the orchid front. An easy task but definitely well played. But seriously we all know mothers are sources of all things brilliant and right. Aren't hers a beauty? So bright and vibrant. There is something feminine and provocative about the pistol and the stamen. Yet enticing and gorgeous at the same time. It is not about their scent but their delicate and tenuous positioning. They can almost be taken out of the flower category and placed instead into the artwork one. Tiny pretty delicate petals of dead artwork.

Hurricane Logan

2007-05-31T08:38:00.000-07:00

This man made we wait in agony over every move and every moment we would spend together. He said we could meet at 10 for one hour. Well that is what we did. He said to come over and watch TV. That is all we did. No food, no alcohol, no sex. Just TV because that is what he said. So when he said he would call me back, I knew he would. But he chose his words carefully, as carefully as he chose every other minute detail in his life including what pair of underwear he would don the next morning, and like that he chose not to say when he'd call. When he did this my heart and mind would devolve into convulsions where I could do nothing but think about him and anxiously wait in gut wrenching palpitations where my heart only beat every second time it should for him to lead me to his greatness. I couldn’t call him. Well because that was not in the instructions and because I was guaranteed no phone call back until later - the time he determined he was ready to again speak to me. So one very paranoid afternoon later, Shannon texted me the greatest words in the English language, “cockpails?” The typo a result of her early start on the game. A word that will forever mean a multitude of drinks always to begin with a very dirty martini. So cockpails it was at a four o’clock on a Friday. No, no, no lawyers don’t leave at four. Not anymore and not unless you live in New Orleans. But this was June and we had a hurricane coming. How grand it is to live in Florida sometimes? At this juncture of bad weather and cocktailing we knew that the storm wasn’t really coming, we also lived in a world pre-Katrina where all risks were scoffed at. With that I danced down the hall, towards the elevator, into my car and straight to the bar. We watched the weather, we sat outside with the unusual and often cool gusts, and we drowned in our own liquids. In a buzzed stupor I declared that I was never speaking to Mr. My Time Only if he did not call me back by nine o’clock that night. Shannon dutifully held my phone hostage in her Prada to prevent me from checking it obsessively every ten and half seconds. At a quarter to nine she granted me my one wish to have the Motorola back to check any messages from him or otherwise. When I got not a one,I slammed the phone down and again dramatically pronounced that unless my phone is broken he and I were done. Because this is what friends do who buy you cockpails and hold your phone hostage, Shannon dialed my number to show me that my phone was not broken - that he was just an asshole. She dialed and it rang and rang and rang. On her end. My little flip phone never once made a sound. When voicemail should’ve picked up, an operator came on rendering her unable to leave a message. I didn’t even get a missed call. Turned out MY PHONE WAS BROKEN. And that HE WAS NOT AN ASSHOLE. Okay wait a minute. He was still an asshole but my drunken declarations were now allowed to be thrown by the wayside. I actually could make good on those excuses. I could continue in this “relationship” and no one could stop me. Yeah no one could. They should have, but I wouldn’t let them. Not at that point anyway. Because he did call and according to him it was many times. But we have no proof of that. I'm a lawyer and I like proof. But apparently only when I have not just consumed cocktails with 8o proof vodka. So we did make plans. And we all know what that means. His plans on his time. One movie, one day, this weekend. Three hours and I am out. The hurricane never came but it did leave an excellent excuse for Logan to continue to walk all over me and the true reason why my phone did not work that night. I let him because I was having fun and I was too busy tyring to maintain the rest of my life to even see what I can see so clearly now. The thick of the fog of that relationship storm made it so no calls could get through to me about where we were headed. Like the hurricane that never hit the Bay, we were in a relationship that was going nowhere either. It just took me a while to realize it.

Things That Are

2007-05-29T14:44:00.000-07:00

Bad:

My back - I hurt it playing in the ocean this weekend. I think I pulled a muscle near my sciatica. I am old. Old. Old.

Our stomachs - After Thai food at a place that had a roach in the restroom. That should've been my first clue. Or the Ramen noodles they tried to pass off as Pad Ba-Mee. These are signs of bad bad things to come.
Being here - Back at work after a holiday way weekend is horrendous. The kind of thing that makes our stomach problems seem minor. Can't they ease us into these sorts of things?
Ginger's paw - She sprained it while running around the house post-bath. Now she limps.

My nose - I somersaulted in the pool scraping my nose on the bottom.

Good:

My weekend - totally rocked. We put the windows down and screamed our lungs out to Genesis. We drank Miller Lights for hours, Ginger had one too, and made up answers to Scattergories. Giraffes so live on farms. Hello? Giraffe farms. We had beer relays in the pool and played poor poor games of football in the ocean. There was flip cup, the new indoor grill (thanks Mike), and four Malbecs at Mad Dogs. We had some old fashioned fun. The background to all those stories, even the bad, was the highlight of three blissful peaceful well played relaxing drink induced summer days. Just look at the background of the picture. We had gorgeous weather, a cool breeze, the beat of the sun, the laughter of friends and a sensation of love and freedom. I thought on more than one occasion that this was dream like. I loved that this was my life. The pictures tell only a bit of where we were and what we were doing...but they are pretty spectacular too.

It's About the Music

2007-05-25T07:20:00.001-07:00

After tonight I want to run out and re-watch A Chorus Line. I had a ton of fun at the pops with Marvin Hamlish the composer of that music and other hits. Including the film version of The Way They Were, who does not just love that movie? And I really hate crying over movies when you are supposed to cry, because I cry enough when you are not supposed to and I cry enough in life. But that movie just makes sense because you knew she had to chase him over to LA and do her own thing but also that they were never going to make. The reality of that makes me cry because it is so simple and yet so true. When you think about it though it is the music that sets the tone for the movie and the emotion comes from the whole package, how well it all played together. What was so moving about tonight was how amazingly perfectly in line the symphony moved together. I cannot get over how they actually made the music. Tiny little violins making that much noise. Working as a machine but also as perfect individual units. Each with a task, often the same task, but also each a necessary element of the whole. Some with solos and others who were clear leaders but who actually spent most of the time working together as a team, blending in with the others. All as one. Really powerful and beautiful. I was so enticed and enamored by them. It was hooot seeing people in charge of these instruments, making melodies, and working to create a larger symphony. I get at thing, an itchy tingly thing, when people can move so well together and enjoy passions in the same form. It is quite emotional. It could've brought me to tears.

It was hot later on in the weekend as we sat outside enjoying the sun and the music. I swore this to Magoo in drunken whispers, that acoustic guitar players are hot. He can bang on those drums, so why not the guitar? Hot in the same way the symphony was - they master making sweet tunes, as he calls it, coming out of those powerful instruments. Memorable moving music. But really they do. A human able to exert that special talent and make brilliant notes is hot. Coming home after enjoying the tunes of the bar band, a bucket of beers and an afternoon by the water, to find your man listening to music full blast and cooking. Okay that is HOT. It was just so perfect. The smell of fresh sauce and the sounds of tunes from the TV - is the penultimate combination. Talk about working together. It is your way to connect and move together. Making music of your own and tantalizing pasta too. It is not just about the music, but about what those songs remind me of, how I can know every word even if I'm getting them wrong and feel absolutely great. Because that is what I do. Dancing in the kitchen in bare feet - a slight sunburn and the remainders of a beer buzz. Totally what summer is going to be about not just this one but the ones of the past and the ones you can only dream about. Summers are always so dream like, maybe it is the extreme heat and long drawn out days. It creates a moment in time to remember back to that song, that sound, the scent and all the memories. Suntan lotion, bug spray, sweat, salt and tired, that too much time in the sun and the pool kind of tired. The way A Chorus Line conjures recollections of younger days prancing around in socks and reminders of what is fun about music of all kinds - the singing along factor. In line together with older memories, making news ones connected to your friends, mixing voices together in ideas and poor poor harmonies. That is what I did at the symphony, in quiet tones under my breath, and at the bar louder and in my key, my drunken key. That's how the power of music gives into the passion and emotion, to sing and dance along to provide an afternoon and evening of entertainment, to make and bake memories and consummate relationships. Driving to work today even Ray created a not too distant memory, just the notes gave the ability to time travel and feel the warmth and goodness of that moment in December. The music makes the memory and creates a time that you cannot remember them as separate. Those songs will always go together with that image. The way the sounds coming from the TV had me dancing into the kitchen. The Moody Blues remind me of my parents, my mom humming along in her own kitchen, those kind of childhood themed memories. That song created a moment that was comforting, that made me aware of a home and what a house is all about, a connection to the past and present and who does not think that is hot?

This weekend will promise to be hot too - temps reading in the high 90's. It is the start of summer and here that means six months of blinding heat. We are going to the beach and celebrating Memorial Day the way Americans do- making it hot, steamy and with good tunes - or really bad ones if you are me. In a bad music square off I will be the winner. But that is what the summer is all about. See the rest of the Sunday pictures on flickr.

Chocolate Icing

2007-05-23T15:38:00.000-07:00

The problem is not the black box I feel that enraptures my skull causing a dull ache and a hate for all things I have to do and people around me. To me, the problem is that this is apparently an unacceptable state to live in. People don't accept it and I don't get shit done. I sit in my office and stare at the screen pretending to review documents for a latent defect that resulted in water intrusion. There is a high possibility that this sensation that has crept over my skull could be caused by those exact words. Or the people who wrote those words. And the only words I can think are who the fuck cares? When it comes down to it every bit of housing and construction is fucked up. In Florida it is humid and it rains. Can't we accept that as a premise instead of litigation as the premise and go from there as a working assumption. Because you assume then that I am out of work as a result. But that would likely be a good scenario to this. If I could just live on what I had and needed. Enough to cover the mortgage, bills and loans with money for groceries. Real groceries not the eating out kind I splurge on now. Like fresh fruit and lentils. I could be good with lentils and likely a tad skinnier too. If I just decided that was how I was going to live. Resolved to do so. I think I wouldn't want more because the more is when I get into trouble. If I keep it simple and never advance and never move on from those wants then I won't be tied to the job and the income, I won't need the more. I won't continuously have more either so I won't continue to want more. There is no moving up - it is level and peaceful and I have to think blissful. Can I do it? If it means I can walk away maybe I can. We as a people can do anything, I just know it. That is how we as a people got into a mess of insurance litigation over stucco. Maybe I can hiatus. The word sounds foreign but not luxurious because it is a street name that runs through the country. But still foreign. Because, can people do things like that? Just take breaks? I can work. I cannot work here doing this. But I can work. Like at the Gap just to earn that money I need. The minimums. Would that resolve this tension and desire to simultaneously scream my head off until my throat is dry and lie on the floor in a t-shirt drinking wine from a plastic cup? Something destructive passed me by today including from the list a fried chicken sandwich at Wendys and a pack of smokes from Walgreens. Instead when I got home I opted for a soup spoon full of chocolate frosting opened from the pantry. A healthy alternative to my choices but not a true solution to the overlying problem. The problem that lays over my head like a thick black box of mush not too dissimilar from the Betty Crocker container now missing a chunk from the middle.

My Crack

2007-05-22T08:21:00.000-07:00

Meeting new people and spending time making new friends introduces you to their stories and ideas. You learn their mannerisms, ways they tell a story, eating preferences, and quirks about cleanliness and godliness. They have their experiences and passions and inside tips on housekeeping help. Which was crazy perfect timing on that front because just that morning Magoo told me that I needed to try to find one for us and there at lunch was one offered up. Also offered was crack. Well I didn't know it was crack at the time but it turns out it is a white substance that I would become addicted to. What is all sorts of wonderful is that it is here in Tampa and it is super accessible to me, for a few small bucks. Here it's called cali yogurt but elsewhere it is Pinkberry. Not exactly illicit but ooohhhh boy am I addicted. My crackberry. I have been three times in three days - since learning about its goodness from the other girls. Oh god it is a great combination of fresh, smooth, tart and just plain yum. I dragged Magoo there after tennis and sushi and asked him what makes it so good and he responded brilliantly that it was the yumminess. Deep in the crevice of the white paper bowels buried beneath the almond slivers, my topping of choice, was that exact ingredient. He was so very right and unfortunately as addicted as I. New friends have great ideas to share - even if they are crack filled.

Love Letters

2007-05-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

In our move I found stacks of old letters and cards. I was a keeper and have a ton of notes, birthday cards and funny memorabilia from the past decade or so. Included in the pile was an un-sent letter in a pink envelope with a teddy bear sticker addressed to Alli my old near and dear friend. I wrote it in college as it was going from my PO Box to hers, a testament of our age and that time in our lives, when we sat in our respective dorm rooms and chatted about everything for hours. The content of the letter is also a testament to a younger me. Something I appear to recognize in the letter and something I feel I actually achieved. In a way the fact that it was unsent was to be destined, as if it were just another journal entry or a letter to myself. Because I prophesize and I would like to think that prophecy came true.

April 24, 1999

Allison -

Hey Baby. I know I just talked to you this morning, but I really need to get this out. This whole situation with this guy is bothering me to no end. I've already bitched to everyone about it and I know I am annoying but I just can't shake it. This is/was precisely the reason I don't hook up randomly or drunk. I want the guy to call, I want respect and I don't want to be made to feel dirty.
I'm sitting here on a Saturday night and all I can do is think about him and
this fucked up situation and that just pisses me off. I had a great life before this happened and I was a strong minded person - why am I so weak now that I can't even plan a lesson plan? It makes me mad that I can't get over this or do anything. I've called him once (which in my mind is already too much.) I never open myself up because I thought I'd get hurt. When I do, guess what? I got hurt. Whats this going to do for my self esteem? I always thought that I was stronger than this, that I could handle something like this. Which makes me even more upset - that I am not handling the situation as expected.
My final closing thoughts are why the hell can't he just pick up the phone and call me? There is not time not to mention no reason to play games. I feel like he is getting bad advice from one of his immature and retarded fraternity brothers. I can't deal with the bullshit!!!
Please remind me of this letter one day - when we are old. So hopefully I can appreciate what a great life I have and to laugh at my youth. I'm hoping that one day this will seem funny!!!
Thanks for listening and bearing with me.

Love Always - A

Besides the melo-drama the letter is dead on. I loved how strong willed I was, but I know that was what prevented me from taking those steps to be in relationships at that time and why this situation unravled me just so. Those are certain moments where we just don't know what to do. Some guy or some situation or whatever has made us so mad that we are at our wits end. Here I know that writing it down, even if unmailed, helped. I swear I don't even know who this is about. Nice, huh? But really that fact is just super telling and a great lesson - that life moves on and you will get over it. To the point where you don't remember who or what the tears were even about. It is just so incredibly true that time heals most all wounds and that you'll eventually get over those dramas and problems and move on. But more so I love how this truly became a prophecy and that I seemed to know I would move on, find it funny, and recognize that my life will be great enough to give me perspective. What is a little bit scary is that today is when I would have said I was "old." It probably would be now to my 20 year old self. Though, despite the aging, I'm in a place to do that appreciating now. Even more so, I would like to think that it can be the case in general, that dreams will and can come true, that your fantasies and day dreams will eventually happen. But it has to be in the time and moment that they are supposed to. This will happen to everyone in their time as well and we just need to remember that to help get past the drama.

No Explanation Necessary

2007-05-20T09:39:00.000-07:00

Ginger Beans May 2007

Just My Weekend

2007-05-18T07:01:00.000-07:00

Not that long ago I would just write and post here whenever I damn pleased. Those were the days, not all that far off ago, when no one was reading. Then I got readers and commenters, who I love! love! love! and would never trade in. But I sort of stopped doing that and I sort of got onto a one post per day type track and they all get wrapped up in a neat little package and have themes and stuff. Which again, I love, but I want to remind myself that this was started for me. To keep my thoughts, ideas, memories and whatever else I want. And that maybe boring or I guess it could be totally interesting in that voyeuristic type way - I know that is a huge part of what makes this whole phenomenon successful. But that is what I have to remind myself of which again is what I am doing out loud here.

This weekend I have so little to do that I actually have a lot because I want to fill in all the spaces with things. Mostly errands but also house type stuff that just needs to get done or I will blow my ear off with a 12 gauge if it does not. I just can't stand having things sitting around. Which is totally not true - I can stand it until the point when I JUST CANNOT HANDLE IT ANYMORE. Then it becomes something I have to do. Tonight I have a date with my mother to the symphony which I am actually looking forward to. Tomorrow morning I am taking a photography class, a part of a birthday present from Magoo, which begins super early at like 9 or something. So it is totally cool to have an evening at the pops with the mom. Plus I am trying hard to detoxify even if it is just for a few days because last week I drank straight through from Tuesday to Sunday and I wanted to burst. So if I make through to Saturday with no liquids I will consider it a success. After the class, which I am SO excited about, I wanted to drop off our dry cleaning, pick up one last frame at Pottery Barn, drop off two pairs of shoes at the cobblers (I giggle at that term it is just so adorable), and to return items to Target to exchange them for a full length mirror. I am tired of standing on a chair to assess my outfit, the condo had these really big mirrors so I have not owned a free standing one in years, but I need one again. Need. I will likely also need to get some of that cali yogurt again, or three times, but more about my new crack at a later time. If time I also want to get some shopping in - you know just the straight up mall kind of shopping. Again about those needs. I say if I have time because I have a burning sensation to sit on my couch, with a cold drink, and watch the Preakness. Don't ask, I am on this horse racing kick and just want to watch the damned race. That is before Magoo and I have to get showered and dressed for a birthday dinner. Sunday we will likely pick up around the house, clean, and hang pictures. I also want to push him for some outdoor time - either tennis or a fine meal or even both if we are so inclined. Here that babe? And if not I am totally okay just making it to Publix because it has been about a half a century since our butts have seen the inside of a grocery. A healthily stocked fridge makes a happy girl. Oh maybe I can finally get around to that lasagna. The possibilities of a quite empty weekend are really quite filling.

So the comments are off because this one is just for my thoughts and ideas. Plus what is there to comment on? That I don't need to go to the dry cleaners? Or that you love the symphony also? Don't think that is necessary. Instead go about enjoying your weekends.

Clear Water

2007-05-16T20:39:00.000-07:00

You know you live in Florida when driving on 75 you are stuck behind a truck filled with oranges and over to your left, in that lane, is a person doing 40 with their left blinker on. That is so Florida.

You also know you live in Florida when you get to be at the beach by 9 am on a Sunday. Magoo and I always said we were going to go but would then find something else to do. The trick really is just to get up and go - not stopping to do anything else. This is also important because by the time we left at noon the place was packed. Lines to get in, lines to park and lines to find a comfy spot in the sand. Oh and of course you know you live in Florida when it is also 97 degrees at noon. Yet another reason to beach it early early on.

We had a great time napping, reading, drinking our smuggled Jack 'n Cokes and walking the shore. I say smuggled because I am not so sure drinking out in the open on the beach is all that legal. Of course we say we are going to do it again and I think we must. But we also agreed that we are going to buy some beach chairs and even a cooler. You know do it all right and stuff that way you really know you live in Florida.

The Reality of TV

2007-05-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

Alright folks I cried during a sitcom. How I Met Your Mother got to me because I hate break ups and I hate watching breakups. Sure that was an easy statement to make because who doesn't, but whatever. I've really always felt a strong sense of ties to this show but I think that it is just because it is well done and that is the point. Any good writing should draw you in like that. So I cried - even though I knew it was coming because she is the aunt and there is no way they could be together. But still it is just so sad to see people move on and apart especially when the love is there. I mean couldn't you just see the love they shared? I know it made me think about love, and passion, and friendship and god damned breakups.

Okay, so yes, I totally have a problem with separating reality from the TV. I know I do. This is why I don't watch horror movies because I know that a crazy man with an axe for a hand will come torture me in the middle of the night on a Tuesday. I know this because it was on TV. Despite my penchant for the dramatic and my fear of anything remotely scary, those Terminix commercials where the walls talk totally FREAK me out, I do manage to squeeze in Lost. Though I admit it is done a lot of times with my eyes squeezed shut. Well, because, I can't take the death, the pain, the torture, the fear, the anxiety, the not knowing or the blood and broken bones. So, yeah, most of that show is out as well. But gimme those five seconds in between and damn I love that show. And talk about loving shows and love and breaking up and all things great on TV, and we get the Bachelor. Here though I seem to understand that it is not real. Though I disagree with Magoo and think that they are in it for real and they seem to think in the moment it is real. But that in the reality of real there is no way you can form a relationship like that except that you are forced to and you have set your mind to doing so. Therefore, the girls really do think they are falling in love. Because they said they loved him 49 seconds after meeting him. But once they step off the magic island that is ABC they realize this shit 'aint going to fly and that is not love but a game that they played really damn well. Still though I gotta watch it and stayed up late for it last night even though I went home early from school because I was not feeling well. You are never not well enough though to watch, and participate if you are me, in some really really good TV. And really you get a whole post on TV because I spent some quality time watching it both on screen and on my computer, which was really cool because I could lie in bed, so it is ingrained in my brain right now.

Though speaking of TV and ABC - those in the Tampa area can catch the ladies on the 5 o'clock news tomorrow. No not those ladies - but the dogs, Ginger and Soph, should be featured at some point. Because in this situation I was actually living through the TV. Now that was reality.

Mother's Day

2007-05-11T20:01:00.000-07:00

My Mother Taught Me:

To love animals and really dogs unconditionally

The meaning of a mothers hugs - they are filled with love

The value of a good bargain

Diet coke, low calories, sugar substitutes, fruits, veggies, and all things involved in healthy eating

The worth of well made clothes

How to value and care for your parents

The importance of painted nails - they are just plain naked without

Jewelry is important - pearls, diamonds, and any other bauble in between

Money is not everything

Cashmere in sweaters or in general because blankets and scarves are nice too

How to take care of your skin - we are a wrinkle free group

To wear nude bras under white tees and for that matter a little padding never hurt anyone

How to set a proper table

How to be bold and say what is on your mind

To drink wine really but vodka is not too far behind

Hi sweetie

Why you must love flowers either given as a gift or bought for yourself

Why you always need two pairs of sneakers

Interior decorating - though she still kicks my ass at that with impeccable taste

No thank you portions - they won't kill you

To enjoy a good book, the value of reading, and the joy of spending an afternoon doing such

TNF - that's not fair for those who want to use it

Knock wood, everything is fine

Reuse recycle

Shulffi and all things Yiddish

The importance of good oral hygiene - she has survived the dentist more than one person ever should

How to be strong

How not to whine - I still have a ways to go

How to be the Queen of Scrabble - well she has not taught me that yet though I hope she does as she gets seven letter words on triple word scores and kicks all our butts up and down the street

Keeping warm with a good foot rub, socks and an open oven - hey it's Florida we don't need the heat

Patience and perspective - two things she has an infinite ability to control and an area I have miles to go

The beauty of the Green Mountains - despite my sworn to love of the beach

That tennis can be fun and great exercise

Chocolate really is a cure all - even if she thinks it is milk chocolate and I vote for dark

Happy Mother's Day - to a mom who has taught me more than a list can show, kicks butt on every item and looks great doing it. Thank you.

Law and Order

2007-05-11T07:48:00.000-07:00

We got all dolled up and attended a Hillsborough County Bar Association dinner. In a room with 600 lawyers we dined on hotel food and listened to Fred Thompson. He is hysterical and quite fortunate having experiences from Watergate to Hollywood to Washington DC including a current stint on Law and Order, where you probably know him best. I just don't know about him as President and that has some things to do with my registered status. But we had a great time pretending to be important. The things is amongst all the speeches about how wonderful and prideful it is to be an attorney it made me not want to me one. I was coming off a pretty crappy day which did not help my sentiment regarding the law. And all the reasons cited for why the law is great and fulfilling fell on my deaf ears. What was described was not something that I feel that I actually do or that I am helping to contribute to.

My legal world is not filled with altruism and doing good and I don't often feel a sense of pride. Not in the way that was described anyway. I feel it is just a job. A new office sure, but still just a job. With that made me really wonder, and not for the first time, if this is the right fit for the long haul. Whether I should continue down this path. Because really in only a few short years I will have hit the seven year mark. Which is not reserved for just itches but also partner status. That is tempting because there is a pride there, but that too may also be short lived. However, the money and lifestyle become increasingly difficult to walk away from. Even now I would say it would be a challenge. But of course it is not impossible and my sanity and happiness certainly are not worth any amount of high income. It is just something that I have to keep in mind.

Really I also know that I have to have perspective. It has only been three years and in that time I should not have been expected to find my place. It takes time, work and a dose of good fortune to get to those kind of right fit special places. That is true of not just being a lawyer but any career choice I chose to pursue. It is not going to happen overnight and it is not going to be easy as pie. Really that is true about anything in life including friendships and relationships - they take time to build, some effort and patience and finding the right fit for you. We all look for love and spend so much time dating and investing in that relationship. This really is not that different. You need to take the time and effort to find a career that fits for you in the same way a mate would. It does not happen over night and it is not automatic that the first one is going to be right. Same deal for a job, right? So really at this point I need to just be aware of that phenomenon and keep it in perspective. Recognizing that my time will come but also knowing that I need to work at it and work towards what I want. I cannot grow easily frustrated, rather I need to keep resetting goals and deciding what I want and need to be doing.

Fred Thompson was a lawyer trained at Vanderbilt who happened to fall into a political campaign which led him to Watergate. They wrote a movie about the event and he got to play himself, which led to a film and TV career. Along the way he stayed in the law game and ran into politics as well. For him it was about timing, hard work and that dose of good fortune. I am fairly certain when he set out 35 years ago he had none of this in mind and could not have generated it if asked. That is really the beauty of it.

It is that kind of perspective I need to hold onto. That and for him it has been over 30 years of building a life and career. My three by comparison pale. Not that I want his life, but just that there are other paths out
there and that life can often lead you down them without a lot of
forethought or planning. I am lucky to have been given the chance to make these decisions and really to whine and complain about the whole thing. I also have to understand where I have come from, looking back to where I started three years ago and where I am now - knowing where I can go from here. I feel steps ahead of where I started and I can totally see new and different potential in the role I have not. Add into that what I really want to do, at least what I think that is, and I believe I should be just fine. It is not all peachy keen and wonderful, but I hope that some day it can be close to that. That and the picture below well that was my dessert, so how bad could it all really be? At least I had some chocolaty goodness to keep me warm and comforted. For the time being that is going to be enough.

Opposite Day

2007-05-10T07:22:00.000-07:00

I think it was Wednesdays in elementary school. The day when things were allowed to be backwards, your clothes, your words, and the early exit. The Dade County School Board gave us half days on Wednesday. Those were the days before it was Miami-Dade and before there was such a hullabaloo about leaving children behind, I suppose. So we made them Wacky Wednesday's and things were designated to be opposites. So today can be opposite day because couldn't the opposite of Wednesday be Thursday? If days had opposites?

Today feels all backwards and I keep having that thought. We went to a restaurant closing celebration last night. Which is fine because you should celebrate the good and appreciate what was there. But really don't you usually only have parties when restaurants open? It seemed anti-climatic. Come, enjoy our food and wine. It's great I swear. But you can never have any again. Ever. 'Cuz we are closing. Ha!

There is this hurricane named Arlene, I think that is her name. No shortage of news coverage on this morning's Today show, but I still cannot remember her name. But really she is going to make some rain and wind. Yet there are these wild fires which have made it super smokey and grey here. How can there be a storm and wild fires? Why isn't the rain putting them out? It's like mother nature is taking part in opposite day too. Where water no longer extinguishes fires and lets us suffer through both at the same time with no relief of either.

I have been having these big nights. Like where I go out and eat a bunch of food and drink tons and tons of wine and it is on school nights. Which is totally opposite because those are weekend things to do and we run up weekend type bills. But I have a feeling that this past weekend's nothingness and this coming weekends similar theme will mean that the weekend will feel more like a Monday. Which is all sorts of backwards and makes me really really tired. Because I was standing backwards in the mirror and looked at my ass and saw things that should not exist anywhere on anyone. So I have also been getting up early to use the treadmill. Which really is backwards for me because usually I sleep until the last minute and I don't generally cut into that for anything including exercise. But I cannot stand to see the back end again look like that and I don't think any amount of opposite is going to make cellulite a good thing. But it also means I am super exhausted from my backwards world and all things opposite. Maybe though I convince my body of the opposite and convince it to be awake, alive, and alert.

Seven

2007-05-08T04:38:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with a new old friend. I have accumulated lot of friends and most of them are considered to be old by now, you know like from childhood old or even college at this point. Because damn I met those guys 10 years ago. So this one, well he is a newer old friend. We worked together and now that I am gone, we have to test our friendship and put in the real effort to remain friends. So he called me to hold up his end of the bargain and told me he was exiting a day long workshop that our, scratch that, his firm puts on every year. We, again er, he is required to attend to meet and mingle and to do a few other law firm type things. But really it is eight hours in a Marriott that are better spent sticking snot in your eye, because it is just as pointless and equally as painful.

My first year at the conference I had just been dumped. As in four days before. I had the wounds of a newly single person fresh on me. A large conference room with nothing to do for eight hours was not the best environment for a person in my mental state. Really any mental state but others seemed to survive better than I. In those days I needed to stay busy and occupied or else I would think about him. Of course no windows and extreme boredom were no cure for that and I became crazy. So that evening when invited out I over served myself. Or maybe it was just that I had not been eating and had not been going out. He was boring and I put myself on the post break up diet routine. Involuntarily, but I did it. So to make myself feel more comfortable in a group of near strangers and to get over the mental torture I put myself through, I threw back a few Seven & Sevens. And then I got home and threw them all up. I literally made myself sick. I survived seven Mardi Gras without so much as a dry heave. But when life gives you a mind numbing seminar and a break up, you react the only way one should - you vomit three times and pass out. This was monumental at the time, because it had been ions since I upchucked. But I knew it was just my life making me sick and not the actual alcohol. And you know when your life makes you sick things are going pretty freaking well. That maybe you need to reevaluate and calm down. Put the bottle down and take a step back. Really think about your decisions.

So I did all that and decided to get back together with the fool a mere month later. I also decided that no one needed to know of this decision. Of course that is a whole other story. But as I told Shannon the other night, "You know it is a good relationship, when you have to keep it a secret." She totally agreed, "Yeah, this was the best secret relationship I have ever been in." And we both laughed over my mistakes and idiocy. But the thing is, and the conclusion we reached, was that no amount of discussion or prompting was going to change my mind about getting back with him. Clearly even my body rejecting yummy things like Seven & Seven was not going to teach me that lesson. Those are ideas you have to learn and mistakes you need to make on your own. Our friends cannot do it for us. That is the thing about bad relationships. We all get ourselves into them and count on our friends to help us out at the end of them, but the middle is where it gets sticky. We do those things to ourselves and will absolutely not hear it from anyone. Which is why I made that decision not to tell anyone. See if they don't know than they can't tell me all the bad things I am doing. Genius, pure genius. But really, I didn't want to hear it, not from any one and not from my friends. Which is why no matter how many friends you have, older, new or even older, there are certain things you need to do on your own. Even if they are riddled with mistakes. No matter how many friends you have or how well your friends know you, there are certain ideas and mistakes you need to endeavor on your own. It just does not matter what they have to say, you will go out on your limb, knowing they will be there to catch you and say not a word about the trip you just took.

I got this all from a ten minute conversation, but isn't that what friends are for? To remind you of all this and teach it to you one morsel at a time? They are there to keep you up to date, to laugh over your missteps and help you celebrate your now, new, old, blue or gold. They are there to help you remember your past, where you came from and where you are going, even if it is just to lunch on a Wednesday. Because really such plans are exactly how friends stay that way.

Beat of His Own Drum

2007-05-06T02:06:00.000-07:00

Magoo drives and spends time "playing" the steering wheel. He is hard of hearing and the TV needs to be loud and questions often need to be repeated. All this because he grew up playing the drums. He was a member of the high school marching band and spent many nights practicing in bands with his friends and brother. He is proud of this and says it made him the fun loving personal guy he is today. For that I am very thankful. He has a love and appreciation of music, often trying to help me with rhythms, but I suck and don't hear them. I am not so sure I am thankful that the expensive drum set he owned as a teenager now lives in our house. We have parts of it and the rest will follow eventually. He continues to claim he will be playing it more regularly. While that remains to be seen, I have witnessed him sport the cylinders back pack like a turtle and tap the table as if it were drums. So when this gets going who knows what I have in store for myself or my neighbors. I think I may need to invest in some really excellent Bose headphones, a padded room, or some drum lessons for myself. Because if you can't beat 'em join 'em.