Too soon for New Year's resolutions??

Sorry about that sad Christmas post. I'm working on eliminating negative thoughts from my consciousness, but it's taking some time and more effort than I expected.

I'll do better next year.

I promise.

What are some of your New Year's resolutions?

Is there any eggnog left? Is it spiked?

It doesn't feel like Christmas.

Yes, it's cold outside (but the snow melted in a bizarre 50 degree day yesterday), but I don't have a single decoration in my home. Of course, if you count the Christmas cards I've received (mostly from former coworkers), then, yes, I have decorations.

For the first time EVER, my home does not have a Christmas tree. And for those that know me, my Christmas tree -- with its glass ornaments from all over the world and the wildest assortment of shapes and sizes of lights -- is a true highlight of the season for me. Putting my tree up always puts me in the holiday mood. That, and about six candy canes!

In past years, I've held a Christmas party where I continue my father's tradition and ask each guest to guess the number of lights on the tree. With lights shaped like icicles and poinsettias and giftboxes and flickering lanterns and snowflakes, it's not an easy task to count them all.

Two years ago, one of my German colleagues (a very well-educated fella) worked up a scientific formula to come up with a number. And he won a bottle of tequila for closest guess!

As disappointing as it is, there is one good reason for the lack of arboreal decor. My bathroom remodel, which was supposed to be finished by mid-December at the latest! is still going on. Although it's only my bathroom that's under construction, the dust and debris and truckload full of tools throughout my apartment made cleaning (let alone decorating) impossible up until a few days ago. I just couldn't bring myself to clean and decorate after Dec. 20, knowing I'd be taking it all down in only a week or two.

Christmas shopping has been one of my great and rewarding challenges these last few years. I've been lucky enough to make a decent salary, so I use my good fortune to buy what I think are pretty cool presents for my family. Finding a gift that will make someone say "Wow!" when they open it is really fun for me.

I said it's a 'challenge' and never has that been more true than this year. To begin with, I spent my first few weeks post-Australia visiting my brother in the hospital, so no Christmas shopping then. I came home from vacation to a HUGE mess and a less-than-ideal situation with regards to personal hygiene (i.e. sponge baths and hair washing in the kitchen sink!)

Not one of my family members gave me a hint as to their needs and wants for Christmas this year, so my creative juices really worked overtime to come up with good gifts.

And my job, in a word - sucks! So much so that I have an appointment with a career counselor next week and if the stars align and I don't lose my nerve, I will be leaving my shitty job in 2008.

Can you say 'stressed'?

Finally!! I finished my Christmas shopping on Thursday (although my mother's gift - - which is usually really great since I set the bar so high with her past gifts- -is back-ordered!). The back-up plan for her gift is strangely back-ordered also. I say strangely because I wanted to purchase the DVD of an old British TV show that my mom and I used to watch when I was younger. It wasn't a very popular show in the US, but apparently, it's the No.1 gift this year because every store and every online outlet has it backordered!! WTF!!!

Oh, get this! While purchasing my brother's family's gift, I messed up my shoulder.

Any doctors in the house? Let me ask you: if my right arm hurts after lugging around a large heavy box and during the night, I roll over onto it and hear a loud 'pop' and, in the morning, it feels better, does that mean I dislocated it?

I've decided that 2008 will bring changes for me. I just hope they're good ones!

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope Santa brings you everything you've wished for!

Animal, vegetable or mineral in Oz

This area of the University of Adelaide campus almost makes me want to sign up for grad school. How does anyone get any work done in such a beautiful place?


Okay, is this the scariest entrance ever?!?!?! This psychotic grinning clown is the entrance to Luna Park, an amusement park just across the Harbor Bridge from Sydney.

Gives me nightmares!!!

Could this BE any more beautiful? A schooner tips in homage to the majestic Sydney Opera House.

An emu emphatically ignores the sign's instructions at the Habitat Rainforest Preserve in Port Douglas. And yes, I was that close to this very LARGE bird!

Koalas are every bit as cuddly as they seem. This cute little guy was introduced to me at the Habitat Rainforest Preserve by a fella who makes Crocodile Dundee sound like a New Yorker!

So beautiful, I had to take another picture. Sue me. Guess it was too beautiful a day to pass up an opportunity to go sailing, whatever the boat.

Aussies are great people for making any open area a fun place to be. These schoolkids are playing rugby during recess in a park created under the Sydney Harbor Bridge (on the Kirribilli side). Too cool!

Believe it or not, boys and girls, this was taken at a vineyard! In my five previous trips Down Under, I'd toured the Hunter and Yarra valleys, the Margaret River valley and now, the Barossa Valley. Yep, I'm officially a wino!

The mile-long walk from Bondi Beach to Bronte featured art installations of all kinds and this one seemed just too appropriate for a top-optional beach (like all of them in Australia). I would've seen more art, but about 5,000 other people had the same idea.

I can't help but take a picture every time I sit down for breakfast at the Soul N' Pepper in Port Douglas. It just too beautiful a view. I don't know if you can tell, but just in front of my plate, the table features a huge gap where the sun and sea have eroded the tree-sourced tabletop.

Down here, if you get a group of boys together and hand them a bunch of long sticks, they don't play hockey, they row (or crew, as I believe the sport is called). Pretty neat team event, huh?

Back at the Habitat Rainforest Preserve, the mornings feature a program called "Breakfast with the Birds." And they aren't kidding. While the parakeets were colorful (if not also noisy and a bit too aggressive for my liking), there were some stork-looking birds that (at almost 3 feet tall) were a bit too big to be jumping on my table and reaching for my muffin!

Happy Turkey Day - - not!

SYDNEY - - Saturday in Sydney for me is Retail Therapy Day and I've decided that I deserve it after a phone call from my mother this morning.

Every year, I schedule my birthday trip's end to coincide with Thanksgiving, that great American eating festival. Not a huge holiday, but one that my family traditionally shares at my mother's home and one that each and every member of my Chicago-area family would torture me for missing.

One of my brothers has been ill and will be having surgery the day before Thanksgiving. My mother even tried to convince me to change my flight so I could be home early (did I mention that he is the Golden Child in our very large family??). Anyway, since I had booked my flights a few months ago and the surgery was only set a few weeks ago, I had timing on my side. Also, he'll won't even awake from the surgery until I'm on the ground in Chicago, so I've got that going for me too.

Needless to say, I didn't change my schedule.

But my mother changed hers.

She called this morning to tell me that she's having Thanksgiving this Sunday! While I'm still in Australia!

Wonder if they'll save me any turkey?

Does a stuffed shirt come with that?

SYDNEY, AU - - Freshly showered and prettied up after a day or two of sunning, I decided to tempt fate and head to an upscale after-work bar around the corner from my apartment (doesn't it sound cool to say I have a Sydney apartment?!?!).

I'm tempting fate because it was at this same bar that I met The Stalker last year. Remember him? The guy who invited me to lunch, changed it to a private meeting at some out-of-the-way place and then when I cancelled, proceeded to call my cell phone 25 times in three days???

Anyway, no Stalker this time. Yay! The bar was filled with men in all forms of business attire, primarily blues, grays and black suits and ties aplenty. My kind of scene! Apparently I'm not alone in my enthusiasm for the clientele as proven by this great line told to me by a lawyer fellow from New Zealand:

"They call this place the Dry Cleaners because girls come here to pick up a suit."

Alas, I left alone.

Must have forgotten my ticket.

PD is my MD

PORT DOUGLAS, AU - This place is my drug of choice. It's my relaxation medication.

I walk slower here (not SLOW, but slower).

Of course I walk slower here. Walk too fast and you miss the screeching blaze of rainbows as lorikeets race overhead. Swim too fast and you miss the amazing feat of glorious sea creatures that breathe water!

My breathing is slower here. My heartbeat, too.

The sky is much cleaner here and the colors much more vivid. It's like a life-sized allergy commercial where the views are blurry until the allergy medication kicks in and then viola! the world is brighter and clearer. I notice so much of nature here and it's because I'm moving at a slower pace that allows me to absorb all the beauty.

The only thing that doesn't slow for me is time and my time in PD is almost up. Tomorrow is my last day here and then down to Sydney.

sigh

My day on the reef

Port Douglas, AU - Yesterday was my 42nd birthday (today for those of you in the US and Canada - Hi Firecracker!!). I have been so unbelievably lucky to spend my birthday these past three or four years snorkeling the Low Isles of the Great Barrier Reef and this year was no different.

Wasn't sure Mother Nature would cooperate when I awoke to overcast skies but by the time the catamaran Wavedancer left the marina, the skies had warmed to a brilliant blue.

We had a small crowd, which suited me just fine, as my mind has been overflowing lately with thoughts of my horrible work situation (yep, couldn't quite turn it off, as much as I've tried). I did, however, meet a very nice British couple (Jilian and Rupert, how British is THAT?!?!). Julian was near tears when they came aboard, not knowing where to put her things, what to do on the boat or on the island, would they get lunch?, is it included? She seemed very rattled and her husband had no idea what to do.

"Are you a good swimmer?" I asked her, jumping right into her panicked world. She nodded.

"Then you're going to have a WONDERFUL time today," I said and smiled. "You can leave your stuff on the boat. The staff will watch over everything. You can either snorkel or dive or go on the glass-bottomed boat or just go and walk on the island with the marine biologist. And they serve a really nice buffet lunch here on the boat."

She smiled and dried her tears. Her husband smiled too and said "Thank you." He showed more tangible appreciation in buying me a XXXX Gold beer later.

One of the staff members offered to give me a Wavedancer employee outfit.

The outfit I did get was a blue Lycra bodysuit which is supposed to keep me from getting stung by jellyfish and getting too much sun. I woke up today with a swollen lower lip (apparently the suit didn't cover all of me and the sun hit me right in the face.) Oh well.

Sorry that I don't have photos of my fish adventures yet, but when I get home, I'll post them.

Of course, I had already used up all of my underwater camera's film by lunchtime, so the post-meal snorkeling would be just me...no technological crutch. You see, when I get nervous in the water, I tell myself just to concentrate on taking pictures of the pretty fish and don't think about sharks or jellyfish or any other aquatic dangers.

But yesterday, on my birthday, I wasn't nervous about losing my crutch. I was excited (and pretty sure I wouldn't be one of those people who die on their birthday. But wouldn't that be a fascinating way to die? eaten by a shark on the Great Barrier Reef??)

But I digress.

After securing all of my snorkeling gear on the island, I backed into the water and drifted through the clear, shallow water (the tide had gone out over lunch). The proximity of the coral reef made me a bit nervous as we'd been told numerous times that we'll kill the coral is we touch it.

Don't think, just swim and look at all the pretty fishes, I told myself.

And then I saw them.

Clams! Not your run-of-the-mill appetizer clams. These were HUGE, blue-lipped monsters that wouldn't even fit in my bathroom (post-remodel)!! My jaw would've dropped but then I would probably drown so somehow I managed to be in awe and keep my mouth shut at the same time (pretty big feat, huh?) How incredible!! And what a time to be without a camera!

Strangely, I wasn't disappointed that I couldn't document this sighting for my loyal readers (both of you, ha!), but you'll just have to trust me on this one.

And then it got better.

I had just decided that this snorkeling thing is pretty strenuous and I could use a break, or maybe even call it a day altogether when I lifted my head to locate the island. My mask had barely broken the surface of the water when I spotted the turtle (or 'tortuga' as our Spanish contingent said.)

She (I don't really know the sex, but still) seemed to be jammed partially under a section of reef. I couldn't decided if she was rubbing against the reef to reach an itch or maybe she really WAS stuck. Okay, that seems pretty stupid now, but at the time it seemed a possibility.

She was gorgeous, about a meter and a half long with a intricately themed shell. I didn't want to scare her, so I stayed back. I just floated there, occasionally lifting my head to see if any other snorkelers were around to show them my exciting discovery.

After at least 10 minutes, another Blue Man arrived at my side and I pointed to my lovely shelled friend, still wiggling around under the reef. We both held our ground (water?) and saw as she freed herself and surfaced.

I lifted my head and saw her grab a breath and submerge again. We played a bit of peek-a-boo for a minute or two and then she drifted away out of sight.

How fantastic!

Oh, and by the way, I asked the marine biologist and she said that turtles jam themselves under the reef to sleep (so they don't float to the surface). Apparently, I had arrived at naptime.

A walk in the park

ADELAIDE, AU - Decided that I'd check out Adelaide's Botanic Gardens, as is my habit in all Australian cities. Nothing like celebrating my first full day in South Australia (known on the license plates as The Festival State, for those interesting in that type of trivia) with a face full of kangaroo paw (strange but cool flower found in these parts).

The day opened as it closed yesterday, too cool for my liking. I left my hotel with several layers that included a scarf around my neck, but Mother Nature had changes in store for me and I returned several hours later with my scarf tied around my camera bag and my sweater wrapped around my waist.

Never made it to the Botanic Gardens, however, as the University of Adelaide's campus stood in my way. I strode through the huge wrought-iron gates and was somewhat disappointed to see very few students. All in class maybe? Nice campus, though.

Having a vague idea where the gardens began, I headed through the campus toward Torrens River. Now the place reminds me of Melbourne, where it gave me glimpses of Perth yesterday. Melbourne features the Yarra River dividing sections of town and one must find a walkway across the Yarra to get to Melbourne's amazing Botanic Gardens.

But I digress.

Having crossed the Torrens, I found myself not at the gardens but at the entrance to the Adelaide Zoological Gardens. Okay, that works. I love zoos!

Can I put in a plug here for the Animal Planet show called "Meercat Manor"? Seriously folks, I can watch those critters for hours and nearly did in Adelaide. For sheer entertainment value, they really do rival the chimpanzees - and that's saying something.

Having viewed my buddies the meercats and some odd African creature called a mara which looked like someone put a rabbit's head on a small dog, I decided that nature was calling. Is it strange or very creative that the ladies room at the Adelaide Zoo is built into an aviary? Yep, brightly colored (and noisy) parrets were watching us pee from above.

I devoured a croissant sandwich, doritos and a water and decided to call it a day (since I had absolutely NO IDEA how long it would take to get back to my hotel.) I had been meandering around since 10:30 in the morning and since all of the grammer school field trips had departed, it had to be late.

Time to go.

On the way back, I stopped for a breather on a park bench near the Adelaide...oops, sorry, the Royal Adelaide Hospital (not sure what's royal about it, but whatever). Anyway, while sitting there enjoying the first real sun I've absorbed in days, I saw a group of young boys in white short-sleeved shirts and a few in matching white hats run across the street in front of me.

A few minutes later, more boys in the same shirt (with a purple stripe across the shoulders) trickled by and raced through the parking lot across the street. And more boys, these a few years older, followed a few minutes later.

There's a game on!

White shirts and hats?? Would it be cricket maybe? I remembered seeing an area called the "parade grounds" on the map and it wasn't too far from here. Maybe it's Aussie Rules football? I don't know squat about either sport, but what a great chance to find out!

I raced across the street in the direction that the boys went and found myself back on campus, but this time it was the University of South Australia. Whatever. I headed toward the river and spotted the boys on the far banks of the Torrens, gathered with some men near a small structure.

One look at the equipment spread out on the ground and I knew.

Not cricket, not football, but crew!

To grocery shop or not to grocery shop?

Granted, I'm not one of those people that maintains a refrigerator stocked full of fresh vegetables and healthy snacks, but GEEZ!

A quick check of my 'frig last night revealed that everything in there (aside from a door full of condiments) is either chocolate or wine. If it matters, it's really good chocolate (Milka brand from Europe) and pretty good wine, too.

Guess I should feel bad about that, but I really don't.

Countdown to vacation: eight days!

A sunny Sunday

They might have been part of the congregation from the mass that just let out. The two of them, a couple, shuffled toward me with the peculiar gait that often marks a mental deficiency.

A huge smile split her cocoa-colored face as she walked hand-in-hand with him, her lips unable to conceal the misshapen mouth and bucked teeth. Through thick and wide glasses she looked not up, but across at her pudgy friend.

His hair a greasy mess across his pimpled forehead, he pulled at his wrinkled and baggy jeans as they stopped for just a moment.

They kissed.

And continued on their way.

God didn't give them physical beauty, but He gave them happiness.

And I couldn't help but be a little jealous.

Countdown to Opening Day 2008

People that know me, even the casual acquaintances that I see during my workday, know that I'm a Cub fan. To some of them, I'm sure that's my sole identifying characteristic.

"There goes that lady that's a big Cub fan" as if I walk around with a big red 'C' on my forehead.

But lately, with my team exiting the post-season with nothing but a whimper, I've been the recipient of many concerned looks.

"Are you okay?"

People, please! It's not like someone ran over my dog. As a longtime Cub fan, I've learned to temper any raging enthusiasm, any urge of "we're gonna win it all!" with memories of past disappointments. I've learned that Cub fans have thick skins. At least they should.

The cashier at my lunchtime spot gave me that mournful look of sympathy and it triggered a thought.

The Cubs last participated in the World Series in 1945, but since 1984, the Cubs have played in the post-season five times. FIVE TIMES!! Okay, they haven't won "the whole thing" in my lifetime (yet), but I've felt that rush of seeing the red-white-and-blue bunting hanging from the brick walls of Wrigley.

It seems that many so-called baseball fans are defining success in very black-and-white terms. Hey! Only one team wins the World Series. One! Does that mean that the other 29 teams in baseball are utter failures?!?!

Winning a pennant doesn't mean anything? How about taking home a division title? Or going from last place to first place in one year? Can you honestly say those aren't terrific accomplishments?

It's not all-or-nothing for me.

Would you tell your child that if they don't collect straight As on their report card that they must be stupid?

I think not!

Opening Day for the Cubs is March 31, 2008.

Save me a seat.

My boys

C'mon! You can't tell me these don't look like fun guys!

It's too bad I have to say goodbye to them...at least until next March!


Kerry Wood and Ryan Dempster having fun in the bullpen.

Dempster, ever the ringmaster, introducing the singing rookies in costume in Cincinnati.

I'm thinking Jacque Jones had a rough night following the Cubs' division clinching in Cincy.

We wouldn't have gotten this far without the LSU Connection (alias Ryan Theriot and Mike Fontenot).

And then there's speed demons like Felix Pie that keep things interesting!

Things to love...and not..about Great American Ballpark

-NEVER!!! NEVER!!!!! NEVER!!!!! NEVER!!!! NEVER!!!!! NEVER!!!! NEVER!!! EVER!


Cub fans know who's face is missing from this historic Reds interactive sign. Do you??

-The five-tool-player. Every general manager's dream.

-Nothing like the Ohio River as a backdrop, huh?

- The grounds crew prepares the field the old-fashioned way. Remind you of anywhere else?

Signs, signs, everywhere signs

Some of my favorite signs from the Cubs' final regular season games in Cincinnati...

- after the Cubs clinched the NL Central Division title!
- Yep, like I said.

- During the Cubs' final homestand, still just a few games ahead of Milwaukee.

- After the Cubs beat the Pirates, closing in on the division title.

- The first one is a loose Latin translation of "Go Cubs." The second? Well, you know!

- Yes, we brought Lou Pinella back to his old stomping grounds to celebrate good times.

- Love this one!

Are we there yet?

"The most exciting sounds in the world are train whistles, plane motors and anchor chains," said a wistful George Bailey to Uncle Billy in one of my favorite movies ("It's a Wonderful Life").

And I couldn't agree more.

I don't know what it is about travel- or at least the expectation of travel- that gets my heart pumping. Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown people, unique accents, unfamiliar food, and other mysteries that await at whatever soil my plane touches.

What to pack? Do I need my passport? Do they speak English where I'm going? Where will I stay? And, most importantly, what is there to do there?

To go or not to go?

It was with a thump in my chest that I tapped in my credit card details to make a spur-of-the-moment purchase of a very cheap (under $200) flight to Florida for next year's Martin Luther King long weekend. Okay, so Florida's no great shakes, but for me - in what will no-doubtedly be a frigid Chicago winter- it will be paradise in January.

So, let's see...I've got travel plans this month (Cincinnati for the Cubs' regular-season finale), next month (to Toronto to visit Firecracker) and November (to celebrate my birthday in Australia) and then to Florida in January. Over the weekend, I plan to cash in a free travel voucher for the Cubs' Spring Training in Arizona next March.

Don't anyone plan to come visit me in the next seven months 'cause I won't be here!!!!!!
(Cue hysterical laughter).

It was Judy Garland in "The Wizard of Oz" that said "There's no place like home."

Sorry, Judy, but I believe Jimmy.

Home and Garden TV/ The Travel Channel

For months now, I've been hesitant to plan my annual trip. Australia, Hawaii and Argentina are some of the places where I've celebrated my 'big day' (can people really call it that after the age of 9?)


Anyway, things have been really different this year. My new boss (who returns after 6 years) has not been as easy to work with this time around and I've been afraid to 'request vacation.' We've been discussing my contract on and off for eight months now and it's not going well. As a consultant, I'm not really entitled to 'vacation,' but I've been pretty sure my 'scheduled time off' would cause trouble.


Throwing caution to the wind last week, I sent my boss an email stating that I would be out of the office Nov. 1-24 on my annual trip. I would, of course, bring in an appropriate substitute and train him/her prior to my absence. There was no request, just a statement.


I took a deep breath, pressed SEND and then I waited.


No return email on Tuesday.


No email or verbal feedback on Wednesday either.


Every Thursday morning features a weekly meeting with my boss and I decided to just assume the situation was decided. As our meeting was ending, I asked if I should have my substitute attend our Thursday meetings and update the status report as I normally do.


"Yes, do that," came the reply.


So, it's a go!


Since my normal trip-planning is done before the summer even begins, I am a bit crazed as I think how to get everything done before November 1.


Oh, did I mention that my contractor suggested using my absence to remodel my bathroom (a plan long overdue)? He and I have been discussing my yucky, 1950s style (not retro, just ugly) loo ever since he installed the beautiful Brazilian koa wood floors in my bedroom last year.

These are the same beautiful floors that now include five or six gashes from the 'tornado' that came tearing through Chicago a few weeks ago. Yes, my contractor will fix them...for about $500.

Get your calculators out, folks. Add the floor price to the bathroom materials. Um, let's see now. There's not much to buy there, except wall tile, floor tile, a tub, shower doors, a new shower head and faucet, a new sink, countertop, vanity cabinet, medicine cabinet, toilet, lighting fixture, and probably a bunch of other stuff.

Be careful what you wish for...

A Donald in the making

He was shy as he approached me in the stands following the Cubs game the other night. He looked at his hands, which were holding a stack of business cards. He looked onto the now-Cubs-less baseball field where the grounds crew had started to water down the infield. He looked everywhere but at me.

"I have this website," he began, still not making eye contact. "It's about the Cubs."

If this was a different era, maybe the 1960s, I think his opening line might've been, "I have a band."

But I digress.

"I'm trying to get World Series tickets," he stammered. I looked around and saw there was no posse of friends to support this shy guy. My heart hurt for him in his solitary quest.

"If you click on the website, I get money," he said quietly as he handed me a business card. I looked at it and discovered that my awkward fellow baseball fan was blessed with a name more suited to rodeos than baseball diamonds.

He didn't ask for my name. In fact, as I looked up from reading his rather basic business card, he was quickly walking away, relieved of the torture of a face-to-face meeting with a complete stranger.

So, folks, I'm asking you to help Colton in his quest for World Series tickets. No financial committment required, just a moment of your web-surfing time.

Go to: www.kidscub.blogspot.com

Oh, did I mention that this quiet entrepreneur is about 10 years old?

Auntie Em! Auntie Em!

When I got home and saw that my bedroom door was closed, I knew there had been trouble. I knew I didn't close my door and I knew my roommate didn't close my door. I knew that because I have NO ROOMMATE.

Anyway, when I peeked inside, it was all I could do not to look around for Toto and shiny red pumps. Yes, boys and girls, a tornado had hit my condo (at least that's what the building management tried to tell me. Um, guys? a tornado in the city of Chicago would probably top all the Michael Vick stories on the news, doncha think?)

According to Mr. A-1 Numero Uno WGN TV meteorologist Tom Skilling, it was no tornado, but some pretty impressive 74 mile per hour winds that knocked out some windows in my building and quite handily tossed around my window air conditioner. In fact, I counted at least five deep scrapes in my fabulous new hardwood floors during the cleanup.

This is the type of stuff that homeowners' insurance is supposed to cover, right?

The return of Janis from the Muppet Show

Just got a haircut. Okay, it was just a trim, but the styling apparently was the difference. My flat-ironed 'do seemed to make me something of a guy-magnet at the Cubs-Cardinals game yesterday (not to be misconstrued as a complaint.)



I was chatting with the visiting Connecticut couple sitting on my left when five guys arrived to fill the row to my right. A big guy in a red shirt with what appeared to be a pig on it sat to my immediate right. (I later discovered that it was a razorback pig, the mascot for Arkansas.)



For a few years, I was fortunate enough to share baseball games with Firecracker. But now that she's back home, I've had to readjust my game-day attitude and try to see the bright side of going solo. One of my favorite things about going to baseball games alone (aside from an easier time getting a ticket) is the opportunity to meet new people. After an hourlong rain delay, the game began and I discovered that the Arkansas crowd was actually Cardinals fan (DUH! RED SHIRTS!)



In case you forgot, the full name of the St. Louis team is the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals (okay, it's not the legal monniker, but whatever!) Fortunately, I didn't mention my nickname for the Redbirds because my seat neighbor turned out to be a former Cardinals catcher!



We spent much of the game commenting on the action and Redbird Guy was impressed by my knowledge and said if he ever started coaching, he'd think of offering me a job. Hmmn???



Happily, my Cubs beat the Cards but his team's loss didn't diminish Redbird Guy's enthusiasm for the evening.



"So, what are you doing tonight?" came the not-unexpected question. "Wanna join us for dinner? What's your number?"



I gave him my cell digits and then headed to my usual post-game watering hole, not sure if Redbird Guy was planning to call or just doing the usual 'close the deal' routine.



Flatiron effect was in full force at the bar, as a young Cardinal fan wrapped his arm around me when I walked in and said to his friends, "If all Cubs fans looked like her, I'd definitely be a Cubs fan."



Fast-forward not more than 20 minutes later...A trio of other out-of-towners were taking off to a local restaurant and said I was welcome to join them. I had chatted with one of trio's members (from San Francisco) earlier at the back bar, so when they were leaving, he came over and kissed me on the cheek on his way out. The second guy, who I'd just been introduced to, did the same. The third, who I'd never seen before, must have thought this was the traditional departure ritual, so he kissed my cheek, too.



It's the hair.



Despite the lovely attention, I was ready to head home and by 9 pm, I was curled up on the sofa with an Abbott & Costello movie on when my cell buzzed. Redbird Guy apologized for not calling sooner, but his friends insisted on stopping to eat right after they left the ballpark (not a surprise since they had only one or two hotdogs between them.)



RG said they were heading out to a bar soon. I had already decided that I was done for the night, so he apologized again and said if the Cubs make the playoffs, he might be back. Could he call me?



Sure.

Gotta strike when the iron is hot.

Only 312s and 773s need apply, please

Some way, some how, the impossible-to-get ticket gods were smiling on me this past weekend as I was GIFTED two fantastic seats to the Cubs/Mets game on Saturday. Seriously folks, this was a game where a woman could rent out her uterus and not get a ticket and here I was with TWO TICKETS!!!

Whom to invite???

Firecracker would normally be my first choice as we've been partners in Wrigleyville crime for a few years now, but NOOOOOO!! She had to up and move to the Great White North...and before the end of baseball season, no less!!

Okay, next choice would be a pal from my volleyball team, another fun, single gal who knows her baseball. When reached on her cell, she was halfway to middle earth hoosierville to visit her family.

Next?

How about a client/friend whose foot I accidently drove over at a Cubs/Brewers game a few years back. Yes, he DOES still talk to me!

Nope - family obligations.

Left to scroll through my cell phone directory, it occurred to me that most of the people in my cell phone live in other cities, not to mention other countries!!!

Geez! I've got to make more friends in Chicago!

Ripple affect

You drop a pebble into a pond and after the kerplunk!, the water ripples away from the point of impact, settling into larger and larger concentric circles until the water is once again as smooth as glass.

But what happens when the ripples go backwards? When people who would normally be considered part of the very largest and most subtle circles of my world have more than the expected affect?

I've been trading text messages with Tall Southern Gentleman for a few days now and I was very happy to receive an invitation to dinner when he's in Chicago next (probably a few weeks). So, yay me! He emailed a photo to me and asked me to send one to him.

I sent a photo of me in Sydney, Australia (to give a hint of the as-yet-untouched topic of travel).

Two days go by. No texts. No calls.

Insecure little me starts thinking of scenarios where he wouldn't contact me: maybe he got the photo and thinks women that travel are snooty, rich bitches; maybe he's one of those divorced fathers that spends every other weekend with their kids and NO ONE ELSE!

And then, today, I got an email from him (sent on Saturday, my bad!) that says that his best friend and wife got into a terrible car accident on Friday morning and the wife didn't survive. The woman was like a sister to him and he's very upset by the whole thing. He wanted to let me know why he might not hear from him for a while.

On top of that, I discovered that the mother of another 'outer ring of friends' died late last week of lung cancer.

I just hope the circles don't get smaller.

Once more with feeling??

How much do I love novocaine?

"Scaling" sounds innocent enough, right? It's basically an in-depth cleaning and how bad can that be? After having half the teeth in my mouth sandblasted with gallons of water, scraped with an iron hook and poked with tiny harpoons, I left my dentist's chair feeling drained.

I grabbed a quick peek in a mirror and noticed that as a result of my favorite anethestic, I bore a striking resemblance to a stroke victim.

Stepping out the dentist's chair, my cell phone chirped and I thought it might be Firecracker texting her arrival at Wrigley Field for the Cubs game. Sure, she's having fun while I'm dying here.

But no.

"UR Cubbie run is only temporary. Dont get too confident" was the text message sent by Super Bowl Guy.

Uh oh!

Checking my swollen, drooling face in my mirror, I said a silent prayer, "Please don't be in town. Please don't be in town."

He wasn't. But I was curious as to why I'd hear from him after, oh, say three months? In case you don't remember, he's the guy from New Jersey with whom I went to the Super Bowl and then he fell off the earth.

And then, there was my answer... in blue and red. According to my pocket Cubs' schedule, my boys will take on the Mets (SBG's team) in early August. I couldn't resist the urge to bash the NY team and predict a big win for the Cubs when the Mets arrive.

"So the winner gets to choose the evening's activities?" came the challenge from SBG. Oh, so he is planning to be in town. Hmmn...

Obviously, Super Bowl Guy is a terrible choice of company for me, but fortunately, I have a possible alternative.

Firecracker and I attended the Cubs game last Monday night and ended up sitting next to three guys from North Carolina. Fun guys in their forties (my target audience) and actual baseball fans, too!

Tall Southern Gent didn't talk much at first, letting his pal dominate the conversations. Later on, when Firecracker distracted the pal, TSG and I got to chat. It was quite a scene as TSG is 6' 8" and I'm, well, not. He found a bar rail to lean on while I got to learn random bits about him, most importantly, that he does not live in Chicago but works here occasionally (sound familiar?)

When we finally decided to leave, we stepped outside the bar and into a torrential rainstorm. We huddled together under the awning in front of the bar, waiting for a break in the storm.

"Your hair smells nice," said TSG as he wrapped his arms around my waist in a backward hug. Surprisingly, I didn't jump out of my skin as sudden as this show of affection was, but enjoyed the warmth and strength of his long arms around me.

He never asked for my number, but those of you who know me won't be surprised to hear that I gave him my card anyway. Some guys need a push, that's all.

Finally, the rain let up enough for him to flag a taxi for me and for me to give him my umbrella for the walk to the train. The evening ended with a nice (and not inappropriately passionate, read: no tongue) kiss goodnight.

Oh, except for the call that came 20 minutes later. "Just wanted to check that you got home okay."

Yep, he's a Southern Gentleman.

Seems my stock is going up!

Gotta love these guys!

If you didn't see it, you've got to check out the helping hand offered by the Philadelphia Phillies when the Colorado Rockies' grounds crew had a wee bit of difficulty with the tarp during a recent rain delay.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99tGf8WWoRQ


Of course! That's what the hard-working, hard-playing people of Philly do when there's trouble - -they help! They're not afraid to get their hands dirty. Although I have to admit I'm pretty disappointed in the Rockies staff (save former Cub LaTroy Hawkins, who joined in), I couldn't help but join the home crowd and applaud the visiting Phillies.



But wait! How many of the Phillies players are actually from Philadelphia? Former Cub pitcher (and still ageless at 44) Jamie Moyer is from Sellersville, PA, but that's it for the Pennsylvania contingent. Of course, you've got the usual half dozen Californians and four guys from the Dominican Republic, but the remainder of the Phillies roster reads like a US atlas. Three players from Texas, two from Oregon and states like Nebraska, North Dakota, Missouri, North Carolina and Washington are all represented in Phillies colors.



Doesn't sound like a bunch of crybaby, can't-break-a-fingernail-or-I'll-go-on-the-DL guys, does it? Is it coincidence that they're wearing the Phillies pinstripes or do the Phillies like to recruit guys who do whatever it takes?



Go Phillies!!







(at least until you play the Cubs)

Bad accent contest

Yes, I've been gone awhile. I apologize. But for today's post, I decided it would be worth it to stay late at the office and get this down, especially since it just happened.

But first, some background.

For those of you that don't know, I work for a foreign-based company and over the years, I've worked with people from Germany, Ireland, Spain, India, Luxembourg, England, Scotland, Austria, China and, of course, some US folks. The mix often provides many humorous moments as we all struggle to understand each other's habits, cultures and languages.

Since I've been here the longest, I've taken it upon myself to start a secret 'bad accent' contest. It was inadvertantly initiated by a former colleague who is now back in the home office in Germany. Like many Germans, he cannot hear the difference between the letters 'v' and 'w.' Of course, this can be slightly problematic.

One day several years ago, my coworkers were trying to decide where to go for lunch. My contest-starter asked who wanted to go for "weggie burgers."

Let the game begin!

A few years went by and some co-workers left and others arrived, including one wonderfully lively fellow from Barcelona, Spain. The Spaniard returned from a lengthy vacation looking very tan and relaxed.

I welcomed him back and asked him how his trip was.

"Fan-tastic! I spent three weeks on a bitch."

Whoa! I think there could be an award in it for him.

And that brings us to today...about 15 minutes ago, to be exact.

Another German colleague, this one from a different area of Germany, stopped on his way out of the office for the night and asked me, "Did you order the bed wedder?"

What?

"Did you order the bed wedder?"

I mentally reviewed everything that had been delivered today - interoffice mail, computer equipment, fresh fruit - maybe someone had a bad reaction to the peaches??

"The bed wedder. It really looks like it's going to rain."

The Red, White and Blue

The bright white of the naval uniforms was almost blinding as I spotted the four sailors outside Wrigley Field today. Like the rest of us, they were waiting to see if any tickets became available for the Memorial Day game against the Marlins. Apparently it was a hot ticket with all the tourists in town for the long weekend.

"You guys looking for tickets?" asked a gentleman who, by his age, was probably no stranger to military service.

"Yes, sir," came the reply.

"Not anymore," he said, handing each a field box seat ticket and shaking their hands. "They're down the first base line. Have a good time."

I just LOVE when stuff like that happens!

Although they weren't free, I scored some pretty good seats for both Firecracker and myself.

I always enjoy the pre-game festivities on Memorial Day with Wayne Messmer adding "God Bless America" to his usual performance of the National Anthem. The Cubs really did it up right this year, as Challenger, a bald eagle, was set loose from a perch high in the center field bleachers. Magestic is the word that came to mind as we watched Challenger sail on the crosswinds before finally coming in to land on the arm of his handler just as Messmer reached the crescendo of the Star Spangled Banner.

One of the main marketing ploys the Cubs feature in the pre-game activities is the throwing out of the ceremonial "first"pitch. Usually, it's the assistant vice-president of some meat-packing company that wants some extra publicity. Pretty tiresome.

But not today.

Lt. Bryan Anderson had a baseball in his hand when he linked arms with his brother to take the field. A few people chuckled when Bryan knelt down to kiss the ground in front of the pitcher's mound. It was a completely different emotion that took over, however, when the triple-amputee Iraqi war veteran used his only remaining limb to throw a fastball to relief pitcher Angel Guzman.

Happy Memorial Day.

Peaks and valleys

You know it's a weird weekend when it hails during a baseball game in mid-May...even in Chicago. But I guess it wasn't all bad. After all, the Cubs did win two of three from their crosstown rivals.

I planned to go to the game on Saturday since it was such a gorgeous day. The baseball gods were definitely smiling on me as I scored a very good seat from a downstate kid whose friend cancelled on him at the last minute. Of course, then Derrek Lee came off the bench to hammer a grand slam and send Wrigley's faithful into bedlam and secure a Cubs win.

Yay!!!

During the game, I got a text message from Porsche Guy, saying that he just "caught a ball at the Cubs/Sox game and wasn't it a shame I wasn't there to split a beer with." Um, split a beer?
And, no, I didn't text back. But I did say a silent prayer that I wouldn't run into him.

Boo!

After the game, I met up with some friends at a nearby watering hole. They were being chatted up by a group of guys that included one kinda cute guy who, it turns out, is 42 and never been married (my mother's dream for me), used to play minor league baseball for the Phillies (not a bad resume, methinks) and wasn't bad looking at all.

Yay!!

An hour later, Phillies Guy is shit-faced drunk and using the garbage can as a bar stool. I remember his name, but I'm pretty confident he won't remember me at all.

Boo!

Having already bought a ticket to today's game, I wasn't about to let a little overcast sky deter me. I grabbed my glove (and my rain poncho, just in case) and made my way over to the park.

Late in the game, a strange scenary began to unfold (or maybe I was just letting my imagination get the best of me.) First the seagulls started to swarm in the outfield. Yes, I did say seagulls. Then Aramis Ramirez parked a three-run homer to keep the Cubs' hopes alive.

Yay!!!

And then came the hail.

It was all very biblical. And cold.

But a happy ending was not to be for my boys and the Cubs lost. The White Sox avoided a Cubs sweep and capped it off with a grand slam by their catcher.

Boo!

Strange sports note on the weekend series: both grand slams were given up by pitchers who, not only were traded for each other just a year ago, but were both doing very well for their new teams until they faced their old teams.

Hmmnn???

Stopping by a bar on the way home, I saw a guy drop his cell phone on his way to the loo. He didn't notice, so I pointed it out to a bouncer, who returned it to the guy. Cell phone guy offered me $20 in reward because the cell phone was actually a $400 Blackberry. I declined.

Peaks and valleys, folks.

Peaks and valleys.

For Sale: one soul

Oh, the interesting conversations one has following a day of baseball at Wrigley Field...

"So, what's wrong with Zambrano?" asked the vertically impaired stranger with a beard straight out of the '80s.

The Cubs' Venezuelan pitcher hasn't shown himself to be the ace of the staff so far this season and everybody has a theory of why this is so.

(me) "Well, I read an article that said that 'Z' has something like seven brothers at home (in Venezuela) and he's the sole support for his family. And I think he's married and has kids of his own here, too. That's really a lot of pressure to put on a guy when he doesn't know where next year's salary will come from."

Zambrano was negotiating his long-term deal with the Cubs when the Chicago Tribune (owners of the Cubs) were sold to real estate bizillionaire Sam Zell, so there's no deal and no telling when or with whom new negotiations can begin.

(shorty) "Well, he should just do his job. He's a professional and he's getting a ton of money this year. When he steps on the field, nothing else should matter."

(me) "Wait a minute, so what you're saying is that people who make a lot of money don't have to be human? What, they should just remove their hearts and their brains and their emotions and set them on the shelf when they go to work?

"Do you realize that as far as 'Z' knows, every pitch he throws could determine his family's financial future? That's a lot of pressure to put on a guy who's only 25 years old."

(shorty) "They're f-ing immigrants anyways, so who the hell cares?"

Um, buh-bye!

So, boys and girls, the discussion point of the day is: Should your income determine your humanity?

Nut magnet

When my cell phone rang, I was standing in the hair product aisle at Walgreens. My cell doesn't ring all that often, so out of curiosity, I answered it.

Big mistake.

Porsche Guy wanted to know if I wanted to meet him for dinner. Instinct told me to lie and tell him that I already ate. He downshifted into an invitation for a drink. Stalling, I told him I was in the middle of something and could he call me back in an hour or so?

Why didn't I just tell him to drop dead?

When we originally exchanged business cards at Wrigley Field, it occurred to both of us (to my initial horror) that we live in adjacent buildings! Okay, maybe my misgivings at his proximity should've prompted me to end things then and there. This nut job lives next door to me?!?! Why I let this flirtation continue, I'll never know.

In the time between his first and second calls, I formulated the wording for a polite, but definite "not interested" talk.

And then I chickened out.

The cell phone rang and I just stared at it from the sofa without moving. Maybe he'll get the hint.

Fast forward to this morning at 8:30. I'm finishing up my session with my physical terrorist, oops, therapist. My cell brriiings to tell me I have a text message.

"Does anyone want to play hooky? It's a nice day."

The nice guys fall off the face of the earth after one date. The crazies call me all the time!

I think Boston Cremes are out too

It always seemed weird to me when someone young (read: under 60) said they have a "bad back" or "bad knees" or some other "bad" body part. I kept picturing some black-and-white movie where the affliction is attributed to an old war wound.

Apparently, I now fall into the category of those with a bad back.

I must've slept through the anatomy part of my health class, because I was pretty sure I had messed up my right leg when it started to feel funky during my weekly volleyball game. Not a pulled muscle exactly, but more of a weird tightness and tingling.

After a week or resting my leg on the back of my sofa while watching TV (that's the best I can do for rehab since I've never so much as sprained anything before), it wasn't any better so I decided to ring my doctor.

My own personal diagnosis was that it was a circulatory issue since "the leg" (yes, I was referring to my body part as if it were someone else's) felt better while standing and worse after sitting for a while. Also, I have low blood pressure and occasionally suffer migraines with my poor circulation.

Uh, yeah, but no. It's a back thing. There's a very good reason why there are no letters after my name. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about in medical circles.

My doctor prescribed some physical therapy (and no volleyball or high heels, for that matter - - so I didn't even ask about volleyball in high heels), so that was my next stop.

Here's the layman's version of what's going on: a disc seems to have slipped from between my vertebre in my lower back, causing a disruption of the nerve signal to my right leg. The Food Network explanation would be: the jelly is coming out of the doughnut and we need to squish it back in.

eeewww!

Pass the hair gel

Just when I was ready to throw open the doors of my pity party and lament my lack of male companionship, Mother Nature reminds me to be careful what I wish for.

"Why did you cross your legs that way when I'm over here?"

And the psychoanalysis had begun.

"You know, when you shook my hand, you put your hand on top and pressed down to show that you're in control."

When he picked me up in his Porsche 911 earlier that Sunday evening, we shook hands in the car. He offered his hand to me with the palm facing up in a "slip me some skin" move, so the handshake was pretty awkward with very little room for maneuvering.

Since I had met Porsche Guy at a Cubs game, I figured I was safe in at least one topic of conversation. But no, he can't stand to watch baseball on TV. He only goes to the game to enjoy the "drama" of it in person. He's really not much of a sports fan even though he played pro beach volleyball for a few years in Mexico.

No, he's not really that tall.

He has a daughter in central Illinois who's 12 years old. He never married the mother, claiming that at 25 years old, he would've been a horrible dad. Later in the evening, he showed me his drivers license. He was born in 1974.

You do the math.

His mother recently told him that if he had spent as much time working on a relationship as he had on his career, he'd be happier. Apparently, he's taken that to heart because he clearly (and several times) stated that he wants to "stop wasting time."

Porsche Guy feels that you should be able to find out pretty quickly if you like someone or not and quite frankly, he's really good on paper (his words, not mine...obviously). He attended Harvard, NYU and has lived in New York, Miami, Chicago and Los Angeles.

So why didn't I fawn over him, like most other women? (I didn't make this up, really! He actually did ask me that.)

When I picked my jaw up off the floor, I explained that I don't fawn over anyone. Did I mention what he looks like? If not, picture a medium-built guy with dark, curly gelled hair, at least two-days' growth of beard but not enough to cover what in my teenage years would've been called "pizza face."

Yes, folks, why wasn't I fawning over such a fine specimen?

My head was throbbing with the refrain of "why am I here?"

Morbid curiosity is my best guess.

The conversation never got any better. Actually, it got worse when I mentioned that although the club we were drinking in was nice, it had gotten difficult to converse since the music was turned up.

"How many drinks does it take for you to relax?"

You know the scene in countless movies where a girl throws a drink in some guy's face and storms out?

SOOOOOOOOOOO CLOSE!

He agreed to take me home, but not before suggesting we go to his place (across the street from my place, God help me!) and makeout for a while.

Surprisingly, I didn't laugh in his face, but neither did I have difficulty in saying that since our conversation didn't exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling, I really didn't think I'd be interested in that.

Who are these psychos and why do I keep meeting them?!

Shame on me!

I know! I've been a bad blogger. For those of you that still check in here, let me apologize for not keeping you abreast of my life. Actually, except for work, there hasn't been much of a life to write about, so you haven't missed anything.

Actually, I've found myself getting bored with my life lately. How weird is that? Especially since it's baseball season, one of my favorite times to be in Chicago. That means summer is right around the corner. FINALLY!

The scary part is, when I get bored, it ends up costing me money. Many women will go shopping to add some excitement to their lives. Me? I spend money, too, but in much larger quantities.

I've decided to remodel my bathroom (and yes, you heard right, singular! my only bathroom.) This should shake things up a bit, right?

I've contacted Polish Guy, the absolute BEST contractor ever!, and he's agreed to remodel my bathroom at the same time as he's doing the loo of my neighbors (they met him through me...or actually, through my wall when he accidently drilled into their apartment while remodeling my master bedroom.)

Think I'll get a referral discount? It would really help the wallet since my plans include pulling down EVERYTHING! I'm even planning to have PG install a pocket door (to give the world's smallest bathroom a bit more space).

I spent the other night sketching the plans for my very chic, use-every-inch-of-space washroom. It'll be entirely white, and I know that sounds boring, but I'm toying with the idea of a whirlpool tub, a dinner-plate sized shower head and maybe a glass wall enclosure.

So many plans! So many sketches! So many trips to plumbing stores!

But all of that will have to wait a little while because this weekend, the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals will be at Wrigley Field to get a whupping from my Cubs!

Game on!

Green goes with blue, right?

I'm one of those people that doesn't usually spend a lot of money on herself. Okay, I do take myself on vacation every year for my birthday, but I plan that very carefully as to not spend more than necessary on flights and hotels (so I can shop a lot and eat really well while I'm there, of course!)

Anyway, I just found out that for the first time in, oh, let's say FOREVER!, I'm going to be receiving a tax refund! And not just from the feds, but from good ole Illinois, too!

I've been paying every year for so long. Now I'm in a quandary. What do I do with the money?

I'm like a kid in a candy store. There are too many choices! Like a room full of mirrors, I don't know where to look!

Blow it on clothes? That's a possibility, but not likely because I've trained myself to be a good shopper and that's a hard habit to break. And the first time I scuff up a pair of Manolo Blahniks, I'll just throw myself headlong into traffic.

Cubs tickets? Well, I think we all know that a good chunk of this money will go to Cubs tickets anyway, so that's not much of an extravagance.

Travel? Well, I've been extremely fortunate that I've had the means (and the vacation allotment) to see more of the world than most people.

Oh, did I mention that my other stroke of good luck came a few months ago when I won two round-trip American Airlines tickets to anywhere in the continental US, Mexico or Canada. Yay me, right? Well, I originally planned to use them for Spring Training, but no go, no seats available. It seems these seats are drawn from the same pool as AA frequent flier seats, so VERY limited availability.

So, the vouchers have been sitting on my kitchen counter, just whispering to me periodically, "c'mon! let's blow this joint and go somewhere fun!" But where? And with whom?

So, I've got two airline tickets and some cash to spend. Hmmn...

Hang on, I'll be right back.

The Cubs play the Los Angeles Dodgers in May, according to the schedule that fell out of the March Vineline. In fact, they finish the series and come home just in time for Memorial Day, so I could fly in Friday night, see Saturday's and Sunday's games and fly home on the holiday...and maybe go to the game at Wrigley that day.

This could be considered stalking, couldn't it?

Well, it's just an idea. (And I'd better come up with another idea before I get carried away and start researching Dodgers tickets and hotel locations.)

What would you do if you suddenly came into a bit of cash that you didn't expect? Not lottery winnings money, but let's say approximately an extra month's salary?

26 Days!

...till my boys are back in town! That's right, the Cubs' home opener is just 26 days away! Of course, Firecracker and I are getting a jump on the season (actually, two jumps, if you count spring training) because we're road-tripping up to Milwaukee to see our boys trounce the Brewers the weekend before the home opener.

Anyway, enjoy some photos of our trip to Arizona. (Please excuse the blurriness of the Kerry Wood photo. 1) using the telephoto zoom diminishes the image stabilization feature, and 2) well, um, did you see the picture?! What a hottie!!)

Oh, before I forget! Does anyone have a subscription to Vineline, the Cubs newsletter? If so, look for us in the April issue in the picture that accompanies the article about the Cubs' plethora of media exposure. We're celebrities!!!

Take a seat (cushion)

I should've known it when I pulled the souvenir Super Bowl seat cushion out of its hiding place near my desk. I haven't used it since the week I returned and only brought it from home to torture the sports freaks in my office.

The dead have arisen.

At 7:45 last night, while I was about to doze off in front of my tv, my cell phone chirped to announce a text message. It's a new cell phone, so I thought maybe the weird sound was the tv.

It wasn't.

"Your silence is deafening," wrote Super Bowl guy.

Just a reminder, boys and girls: last I heard from him, he was skiiing in Aspen on Valentine's Day with whomever.

I replied, "Me?! Where u been?" (since I'm all over this short-code texting shit.)

"Meet me at PJ Clark's at 8:45."

My thoughts at that moment: that little a-hole is not only in town, but already at a bar and just expects me to drop everything and haul my fanny to him! For all I know, he could've been in town for a few days already and just now ran out of other entertainment!

Prior to the Super Bowl, the two of us could've starred in a commercial for communication in the 21st century: text messages, email, cell phone calls.

Since then?

Except for one text message, nada.

My answer? "Sorry, no time. Washing my hair."

A girl's gotta have her priorities, ya know!

100 bits of stuff about me

All you really need to know...and then some


1. I don't have a middle name.

2. When I was young, I wanted to be an actress...or a singer.

3. I can't really sing.

4. I rarely balance my checkbook.

5. I'm probably not as smart as I think I am (see #4).

6. If I won the lottery, I'd hire someone to make all of my clothes - -even my shoes!

7. I've never been pregnant and will probably never be.

8. And that's okay.

9. I can't slow dance.

10. Summer is my absolute favorite time of year.

11. I love love LOVE being near water.

12. I can't really swim.

13. My "first time" was with a musician....figures!

14. When it comes to gift-giving, I rock!

15. I own entirely too many clothes.

16. I know at least a few words in French, Spanish, German, Chinese, Italian and Croatian.

17. But I'm not in fluent in any of those languages.

18. I'm a great flirt, but get terribly shy when a cute guy actually pays attention to me.

19. I have eight siblings, but I can't say I'm especially close to any of them.

20. The first song I ever learned all the words to was "Mandy" by Barry Manilow.

21. I still like some Barry Manilow songs. Sue me.

22. I once stoled money out of my mom's purse. Okay, the grand larceny totaled about $1.50, but when you're an 8-year-old aching for penny candy, that's the motherlode!

23. I've always wanted to learn to play either the guitar or the piano.

24. Being asked to hold an infant strikes terror into me.

25. I love tomato sauce, ketchup and salsa but hate tomatoes. It's the consistency. They're still in the embryonic stage.

26. I don't really have a favorite color.

27. I prefer the toilet paper in my bathroom to come over the top of the roll.

28. If it's raining, I'm sleeping. Seriously! If it rained for 12 hours straight, I'd be in a coma!

29. Countries I've been to include: Belgium, Amsterdam, China, Mexico, Jamaica, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Germany, Italy, England, Uruguay, New Zealand, Spain and Croatia - - not in that order.

30. M*A*S*H used to be my favorite show. In fact, I can recite from memory Radar O'Reilly's speech announcing the death of Lt. Col. Henry Blake.

31. Yes, I am a veritable font of useless information.

32. When I was, oh, about 7 or 8 years old, I trimmed my eyelashes...with scissors.

33. I have a tattoo. What it is and where it is are strictly need-to-know information.

34. I'm a Scorpio. (Big f'ing surprise there, huh?)

35. I swear way too much!

36. I've moved eight times in my life...so far.

37. When I was a kid, my family had a dog named Corky (same as the nickname of drugstore magnate Charles R. Walgreen - - no coincidence.)

38. I've never broken a bone, sprained anything or had stitches of any kind. Figure when I turn 50, I'll get hit by a bus!

39. Favorite dinner: NY strip steak, cooked medium, sauteed mushrooms on the side, with twice-baked potato and creamed spinach plus a big, fat cabernet. Yes, the arteries are clogging as I write this.

40. I like dogs. It's not that I don't like cats, but I don't trust them. They're sneaky.

41. I was mistaken for a prostitute once. Okay, twice.

42. I always wished my eyes were blue or green. Brown seems boring.

43. I'm a big fan of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies.

44. While in high school, I worked as a waitress...for exactly one week.

1. 45. For a woman my size, I have a frighteningly high tolerance for alcohol.

46. I know more about baseball than most men I know.

47. I used to have a MAJOR crush on Andy Gibb...and then he had to go and pull a Romeo and Juliet thing over Victoria Principal. Such a shame!

48. The older I get, the less I enjoy change. (Maybe that's not just me?)

49. I'd love to know how to do the following automotive things: change the oil, do a tune-up, do a brake job. Tried to take a class in basic automotives, but it got cancelled.

50. I'm a good cook, but a better baker.

51. I attended the Atlanta Olympics (and was in the park not long before the explosion.)

52. I drive a red convertible (usually too fast!)

53. When I was a child, my hair was so long I usually sat on it when I sat at my school desk.

54."Pulling an MJ" defined as having a date so wonderful that you're finishing each other's sentences by the evening's end...and then he never calls you again.

55. I don't date smokers.

56. I've been to Australia five times and New York twice. And I like Australia better...even with the 19-hour flight.

57. Most people have childhood illnesses when they are children. Not me! I contracted chicken pox when I was 21.

58. I own not one, but two baseball gloves (one is autographed by Ron Santo, so of course, I can't use it.)

59. Unlike most women, I really don't like shopping...even if it's for ME!

60. I used to work as a bartender and I used to work as a sportswriter--total guy-meeting occupations- -yet I really don't date much. What's with THAT?!?!

61. One of my favorite places on the island of Maui is a hidden-away nude beach.

62. My default setting (as far as drinks goes) is Jack Daniels and Coke.

63. When I was a kid, I played hide-and-seek in the basement with one of my brothers (a year older than me). He hid in the dryer and I turned it on. Okay, he only went around once! And I bandaged him up!

64. I once confused a can of kitchen cleanser for parmasean cheese and sprinkled it on my family's dinner. (Gimme a break, I was about 7 years old at the time!)

65. Body part I dislike the most: feet! That goes for mine or anyone else's. Ick!

66. It used to happen more often, but at least once a month, someone thinks they know me from somewhere. I'm going to get a shirt that says "I am no one you know."

67. I own at least two nice chess sets, but do not know how to play chess...yet.

68. I absolutely hate to be late.

69. I have a crush on CNN's Anderson Cooper.

70. I'm better than anyone when it comes to holding a grudge. (No, I'm not proud of that.)

71. My left earlobe is double-pierced, just the left one. (Took the idea from one of my sisters.)

72. My favorite Chicago places in the summer: Buckingham Fountain and Wrigley Field (not necessarily in that order). In the winter? Australia and Mexico. (Okay, they're not in Chicago, but have you BEEN to Chicago in the winter?)

73. I get migraines (discovered that tonic water with quinine helps). My migraines begin in an interesting fashion with partial blindness. It's pretty strange.

74. I was married for five years to.the.day. Yep, we filed on our anniversary. Pretty bent, huh?

75. I have expensive taste. Don't know where that came from. It's not like we were rich when I was growing up. Or now, for that matter.

76. Although I've tried to hide it, apparently people have found out: I love chocolate, particularly the wonderful European brands Milka and Lindt.

77. I have several favorite sayings: "If you're not tired on Monday, you didn't have a good weekend." (When traveling) "Don't do anything you can't make bail for!" And, of course, "Ice cream makes everything better."

78. Although I own a nice set of golf clubs and have taken a few lessons, I have NEVER set foot on a golf course...yet.

79. I can play pool right-handed and also left-handed.

80. The smell of marijuana makes me wretch.

81. As scary as this sounds, I'm probably the most open-minded person in my family.

82. Dentists scare the living hell outta me!

83. As far as art goes, I'm a fan of the French Impressionists...seriously! Modern art doesn't really do it for me. I just don't get it.

84. I'm a total attention-whore (and I blame my huge family for that!)

85. I think the best root beer makers are Dad's, Barrelhead and A&W, in case you wanted to know.

86. I prefer nuts in my peanut butter, but not in my chocolate chip cookies. Weird, huh?

87. My ears were just not designed for ear "buds."

88. As much as I love snorkeling, I don't think I can learn to scuba. What can I say, I like to breathe wherever I am. Can you say "scare.D.cat"??

89. If I allow my hair to dry naturally, it does this really strange banana curl thing underneath and arrow-straight on top. It's really a great look, trust me!

90. I'm a cynic. (Okay, that's probably downplaying it, but there it is.)

91. When I get nervous or stressed, my shoulders go up into "I dunno?" posture. And they stay there.

92. If there was only room for two words to describe me on my tombstone, I think they'd be "loyal" and "generous." At least, I hope that's what they would be.

93. To most people that know me, I'm really an open book. And for that, I'd like to lay out a blanket apology.

94. I'm one of those people that never wins anything...okay I used to be. Last summer, I won a replica Brooklyn Dodgers Jackie Robinson jersey (worth $300) and this past December, I won 2 roundtrip airline tickets! Yay me!

95. About once a year, I get laryngitis. It's actually pretty funny. It's still me...just with a mute button.

96. One of my favorite things in my house is my 600-thread-count sheet set. Seriously! Now, what to do with those sheets, well that's a bit too much about me.

97. Weather-wise, I'll take snow over rain any day. Snow falls silently and covers everything with a fluffy white blanket (at least until the street salt dirties it).

98. Couples always say that they can't live without each other. I'd prefer to meet someone where I can honestly say that I don't remember what my life was like before I met them. I want THAT kind of impact! Is that asking too much?

99. I never went to summer camp. Did I miss anything?

100. I'm glad I'm a blonde. Don't think I have the personality for anything else.

How I Super Bowled...

I was going to start with "so I met this guy", but I knew all the romantics out there would jump to the "and they lived happily ever after" part, so I didn't. This story doesn't end that way...at least I'm pretty sure it doesn't.

But I DID meet a guy (Super Bowl Guy or SB). He was in town on business and was definitely my type: early 40s, tall, thin, clean shaven with wonderful manners: helps me on with my coat, holds doors open, pays for EVERYTHING! The whole package. Quite the change from the men I've met in the last few years.

Yes, I did say he was in town on business. That's right, he's GU (geographically undesirable). We first met while I was having drinks with a colleague. He was doing the same. We hit it off right away (okay, maybe it was the three cosmopolitans I had). One of his colleagues said that he (SB) was divorced and he said something back, but I didn't hear it.

Our first meeting went late into the night and included several more cocktails. He called me the next day (on his way to the airport) to ask how I was doing. Geez! Thoughtful! He apologized for not paying for my taxi home. Generous, too!

We emailed and texted a few times over the next few days and then he called me at work and asked me if I'd like to go to the Super Bowl. (This was before the playoffs started and we knew the Bears would be in it.) Naturally, I was floored and blurted out, "yeah, sure." I mean, HELLO, have we MET BEFORE?!?!? The sports fan that I am?!?

In the same conversation as the invite to the Super Bowl, I pointed out that this was one helluva first date. SB got off the phone pretty quickly after that, but called me back just a few minutes later, asking me what I was doing for dinner the following Monday. Turns out, he had just set up a client meeting in Chicago, so we could have dinner and get to know each other better.

Did I mention the thoughtful thing?

Over our dinner, I found out a few things that made me realize that "happily ever after" wasn't a likely outcome: he isn't quite divorced yet, but in a situation that unfortunately reminds him of a disturbing part of his childhood; he has three children whom he would like to keep from reliving his own childhood; I'd only known him for a few days and here I was, planning a weekend trip with him; and, he's a METS FAN!

It took a lot of talking to him and even more deep thinking on my part, but I decided to just go to the Super Bowl and have fun. I wouldn't get emotionally involved because, quite simply, this situation had trouble written all over it.

And, you know what??? I surprised even me when I was able to do it- not get emotionally involved, that is.

Now, here it is, a few weeks past the Super Bowl and SB said he won't be in Chicago again till late March. Have I gotten phone calls, text messages and emails? Nope. Did I get flowers for Valentine's Day? Nope.

Am I broken up about it?

Nope.

Like I always say, "NEXT."

Me...at the Super Bowl?!?!

Yep, I was in not-so-sunny Florida cheering on my Bears in the biggest sporting event in the U.S.

Stay tuned to find out how I managed to score such a great trip (at least, it was pretty great for a sports fan like me).