Better late than never???

After receiving an extremely sincere-sounding apology the day after the ass-grabbing, lip-chewing, drunken slobber of a "date," I decided to give Newzie another chance and agreed to meet him for a Cubs game. We made arrangements, but the day before the game, he called to change the plan.

Seems he had been asked to substitute teach for a friend's college class. Could he meet me at the game, probably by the 4th or 5th inning?? Since I had been planning to attend the Cubs game before he offered to join me, I didn't mind the adjustment.

During the game, he said how happy he was that I agreed to see him. He was feeling bad about his behavior the night we met. I told him that I was giving him two choices: 1) we could pretend we just met and this is the first time we've gone out, or 2) he could pick up where he left off that night, but he'd have a very deep shit-hole to dig out of.

He wisely chose option #1.

From there on out, it seemed very much like a first date. Small talk. One beer each. A few laughs It was a beautiful evening and the Cubs even won! After the game, we decided to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak, and headed to the same post-game watering hole where we met.

Two drinks later, Newzie insisted on walking me home. From my perspective, he was still on probation, so I didn't respond when he put his arm around my waist as we left the bar. Standing in front of my building, we kissed a bit but nothing like the tonsil-hockey of the first night - - fortunately.

"You're getting me excited," he said.

"Then I'd better send you home."

We spoke briefly a few days later and, I thought, made plans to have a drink after the Bears game. When no call came that night or in the following days, I figured he was just looking for nooky and when I didn't oblige, he bailed...

Till he called a few minutes ago to wish me a safe and fun trip to Croatia.

He wanted to see me tonight but realized that I'd be packing and there was no chance. Newzie asked me to please save an evening for him when I return when he wants to see pictures and hear all about my trip.

That day

All across the web, people are remembering where they were on this day five years ago. My first memories aren't of a place, but of a face.

My coworker came to my desk, his eyes red and swollen. He collapsed into a chair with a shell-shocked look on his face. One of our clients - - one of his clients - - had an office in one of the World Trade Center towers.

They weren't there anymore.

Technically, this specific scene happened on Sept. 12, but back then, time was meaningless. At least for a few days.

As for the events of Sept. 11, 2001, they are as clear in my mind today as they were then. The first inkling I had that something had happened (strange how people say 'something had happened' like there was a traffic accident) was a cell phone ringing for a fellow passenger on the CTA bus that I took to work. Normally, no one cared about a call, much less bothered to listen to the conversation. But it seemed like the phone wasn't ringing for her, but for all of us as she hung up and said to no one in particular, "a plane just hit the World Trade Center."

I didn't understand the implications. How could I?

When I arrived at my desk, I noticed that everyone was in the next room, gathered around one of the few televisions on our floor. I thought it was a replay on CNN as I saw a plane flying unbelievably low in the Manhattan sky. Then it hit the remaining tower!

One of our board members turned to me and instructed me to close the office. We had only just opened for the day.

I'm normally the last one out of our office and this day was no different. Actually, it was different because all of my colleagues waited at my desk until I was ready to leave. We closed the office together and walked out of our building together. Instinctively, I looked up and west to the Sears Tower and wondered if that skyscraper would still stand the next day. (Ironic that we now work in the Sears Tower. Or maybe it's just scary.)

With no particular place to go, we wandered without purpose, thought or speech among the thousands of Chicagoans that were released from their offices. We stopped momentarily at a TV in an office window and watched as one of the towers fell.

We walked for blocks and I couldn't help but think to myself, "this isn't supposed to happen to us! We're the United States of America for chrissakes!" Instead of screaming my anger and indignation, I just walked on in numbed silence.

Eventually, we decided that we would each go home and deal with the situation in our own way. For me, that included taking a transistor radio, a bottle of water and my keys and getting the HELL out of my high-rise apartment and to the relative safety (?!) of the lakefront.

God speed to my friends across the globe who are thinking of us today.

Newzie

When he called for the third time that day, I suspected he might be "one of those." You know the type. He generously offers to not only father your children, but put them through college and retire with you to Maui - -and that's in the first five minutes of conversation.

I met "Newzie" after the Cubs game on Saturday. Having attended the game alone, I began to enjoy a post-game cocktail at one of my favorite haunts when I noticed him peering at me through the crowd.

Describe him? Well, if this were a police blotter, he'd be the epitome of "average:" average height, average weight, medium dark brown hair, brown eyes, late 40s.

Strangely enough, our conversation seemed to click with similar interests: baseball, travel, people-watching, etc. Newzie apparently had some friends in town from California but was ready and willing to ditch them and take me to dinner instead.

Pasta and a bottle of wine later, Newzie leaned over and kissed me. (He had already been silently smooching my hand and telling me how beautiful I was throughout dinner). It was a nice, polite kiss, nothing terribly aggressive so I enjoyed it although I hadn't yet decided where this date would lead...if anywhere.

After dinner, we enjoyed a few more drinks with Newzie getting tipsy and me, well, of course, I wasn't even buzzed because I have the alcohol tolerance of a Mardi Gras parade grand marshall. We landed at a nearby jazz club which, despite being almost empty, gave us the VIP super-secret back booth. Newzie ordered another bottle of wine.

Beer + wine + post-dinner cocktails + more wine = one horny bastard. What started out as nice, polite kisses quickly turned into an almost violent tonsilectomy with a few ass grabs thrown in for good measure. He was very interested in having sex with me and I think he would've started the proceedings right then and there had I not put the kybosh (sp?) on that.

Trying to bring the evening back to more secure footing, I backed out of the last kiss and tried to continue what had been interesting conversation. I learned that he'd been married for 10 years but was now divorced. How long since the divorce? About a year!

There it was, the answer to the question that had been itching the back of my psyche all night: why is he interested in spending so much time with me? Why not get the phone number and move on? That's the answer! He's not dating, he's auditioning replacements!

The liquor/truth serum kicked in and he admitted that after getting divorced, he dated a 22-year-old for a little while. Oh, did I mention that he's more than twice that age?!?!

Strange how the mind works sometimes, huh? It was just then that it occurred to me that I've been offered sex two times in the past 10 days!!! By two different men!!! On two different continents!! Yay for me!

Maybe it's because I haven't been in a relationship (read: sex) in two years, but I decided that Newzie had some redeeming qualities, particularly when sober. BUT...If you looked up the definition of "rebound," the dictionary would show his picture.

It's a minefield, I know. Newzie suggested joining me for a Cubs game soon. We'll see...

Sangria, tapas and dinner at 10

BARCELONA, SPAIN- -
It's hard to know where to begin to describe my unfortunately short visit to Spain for my friend JT's wedding. Food, however, was an integral part of the festivities - so much so that I don't think I have the vocabulary to tell you how amazing it
was.

I must say, though, that when I think of all things Spanish, I think of sangria (but maybe that's because I'm an alchoholic!!) Anyway, it seems when you order a Coke or even water in Spain, you are lucky to get about six ounces - - maybe! But order sangria and you get a gallon jug with a slice of lemon and a straw! Gotta love Spain!

I do plan to tell you about the wedding, but first, the photos. The top three are examples of Antoni Gaudi's work (the middle being Sagrada Familia). He's one of Spain's most famous architects. The rest are scenes from La Rambla, a wide boulevard in central Barcelona full of shops, restaurants, hotels and markets.

But back to the food at the wedding reception...One of the first trays of hors d'oeuvres featured a tall martini glass filled with thick orange cream. The foot of the glass was submerged in a beach of black poppy seeds from which shards of fried tostadas stuck out. The idea was to grab a tostada and dip it into the cream, which turned out to be mango puree. Yum!!

Another tray contained martini glasses brimming with cloudy water in which floated several specks of spices. Hmmn?? Melon juice!

A third tray (of approximately 15 hot and cold appetizers) was loaded with miniature shot glasses that contained murky water with some unknown item in the bottom and a tiny spear in each glass. What is this mysterious food item??? Shots of mussels! Okay, I'm not a big fan of seafood, but that was pretty cool.

Also on the menu for appetizers was foie gras, salmon, lobster, anchovies and squid. No cheez-wiz here!

As for the wedding ceremony, it was pretty memorable, too. A bus whisked all of us to a small village about an hour outside of Barcelona. The church itself was a tiny stone building on a hill. The afternoon turned a bit warm so a friend of the bride gave to each woman a delicate paper fan - - how wonderfully Spanish!

At the mid-point of the ceremony (which was almost entirely in Spanish), a husband-and-wife duo sang what became the anthem of the day, "(Say that you love me) Before the Sun Goes Down." The woman's voice was accompanied by acoustic guitar and the almost tribal, hollow THUNK of a bongo echoing off the stone walls of the chapel. It was quite stirring.

Sitting down to dinner, I noticed that each place setting featured FOUR wine glasses! Gotta love weddings like that! Okay, one glass was for water, but still!

After dinner, we adjourned to the outdoors for dancing. A small dance floor was set among the pebbled patio. I was afraid to introduce my brand-new four-inch heels to tiny stones and my fears proved true during the first painful dance. In another stroke of wonderfully creative thinking, the bridal couple provided all of the women with various sizes of silver flip-flops for dancing!

Oh, did I mention that I was dancing with this French guy who was quite sure he was going home with me (to my hotel, not to Chicago)?? Unlike so many American guys who find a girl and stick to her like glue for the remainder of the evening, Frenchy danced with me, other girls and even the guys (not slow dancing!) but made it clear he was interested in the blond American.

Um, no I didn't sleep with him. But I did stay out until 7 am!!!

Killing time in Dublin Airport

Please excuse the late posting, but I didn't have internet access during my foray into Europe.

DUBLIN (AIRPORT) - Highlights of a 3-hour layover in Ireland:

• Got a bit worried about finding the airport when my view out the airplane window featured miles and miles of green grass and a few tiny white buildings scattered about. Nothing to suggest a city, much less an air traffice control tower and runways.
• Taxiing to the gate, I saw a small herd of cows grazing alongside the runway. Gotta love Europe!!
• In the ladies restroom in the terminal, I spotted an ad for a nearby hotel described as being located in the "airside retail park." Sounds like a lovely, picturesque venue, doesn't it?
• Walking toward my connection gate, my path took me up a flight of stairs in the terminal..a flight of wooden stairs!
• The "transfer hallway" was something out of a fun house. With each right- or left-handed turn, the hallway became substantially narrower until the corrider was no more than 30 inches wide! Fat Americans need not apply.
• Instantly I was swept away from the glass and steel of Terminal B and transported into the rich, dark wood and even darker beer of the Ol' Sod at The Gate Clock, a fabulous pub in the airport.

And this is where I sat for an hour, nursing not a Guiness, but a latte. (Gimme a break, it was 8:30 am Ireland-time).

I love international terminals! The bookstores, coffee shops and souvenir stores all look the same no matter if you're in Chicago, Dublin or Sydney. But the dark or light or freckled faces! and the lilting, gutteral or twangy voices!! Fantastic! One of my favorite low-cash entertainment venues used to be O'Hare's Terminal 1. The dramatic hellos and teary goodbyes were better than any Hollywood flick. Of course, that was a wonderful way to spend an evening until bastards turned the numbers 9 and 11 into a horrific date of infamy.

But I digress.

All eyes glance up periodically, digesting the numbers and letters that flicker across the arrival and departure boards. More than once I've seen someone glance quickly at the monitor and break into a dead run for a departure only moments away. These situations, however, are reserved almost exclusively for Heathrow Airport in London, also known as Heart Attack Central.

Two older gentlemen sit at the table next to me, sipping Guinness from small glasses. I think they're speaking English, but I'm in Ireland and this native tongue is a totally different animal altogether. The clock reads 10 am local time. I wonder what time their bodies say it is?

Best t-shirt seen today: "Mumbassa Univ. 98"

List of things I can't have in my carry-on

Okay, so I leave for Spain tomorrow night. I'm attending a former co-worker's wedding (to catch up any blog-reading late-comers.) Now that I think about it, it's the fourth such wedding in the past 18 months. Yeesh!

Anyway, back on topic. I was planning not to check any baggage at all, BUT NO!!!! those shitheads had to screw up the already screwed-up airline security systems and now almost all of my Barcelona-bound items will be shoe-horned into a former carry-on bag.

In my carry-on:
Purse (intentionally devoid of lip gloss and hand cream)
Passport (with flight and hotel confirmations)
Euros (and some USD)
Wedding cards from me and also two of my colleagues
Brand-spanking new digital camera
Not-so-new cell phone
Beat-up, but still working iPod
Mini AM radio (for Cubs game while coming home Sunday)
Jewelry (including pearls bought in China)

Sounds heavy, doesn't it?

Checked bag items:
Four days' worth of clothes (including new dress, new shoes, new purse for wedding)
Hair dryer and flat iron
Fire Jolly Ranchers for new CEO (yep, I'm a brown-nose, what of it??)
International adapter(s)
Chargers for above-noted cell phone, iPod and camera
Hair products (shampoo, conditioner, hair spray, styling lotion)
Makeup (including lip gloss, mascara, perfume)
Shower gel and moisturizer
Contact lens solution
Nail polish

**** Wait! I was just reading the TSA (Transportation Safety Administration) website regarding what we can and cannot bring in a carry-on. Toothpaste is still a no go, but "personal lubricants" are allowed! I guess that's so we can join the Mile High Club enroute to Europe! Note to self: stop at Walgreens on my way to the airport.

Oh, and nitroglycerine pills (and sprays) are allowed. Um, wait. Isn't "nitro" the stuff that Batman's enemies were always trying to use to threaten Gotham City? And that stuff's allowed on board my plane?!! Sure, now I feel secure...

See everyone next week (and I promise to post pics of Barcelona, if Blogger will cooperate!)

It's always something!

How's this for stupidity? I've just heard on CNN that some moron is suing the Oakland A's for discrimination. Here's the deal: the team sponsored a Ladies Night giveaway of pink baseball caps. He asked for one and the ballpark employee laughed, but wouldn't give him one. This goofball wants $4,000 for himself and EVERY man at the game that night! He claims that the marketing ploy discriminates against men.

Apparently, this same genius also tried to sue the LA Angels for discrimination when he didn't get a totebag during the team's Mother's Day promotion.

Did someone not get enough love as a child?? OR does he secretly want to be a woman?? Maybe he just has an unnatural love of the color pink?

If there is any justice in this world, a judge will drag this toad into a courtroom, force him to buy a ticket to tomorrow's game for everyone in the courtroom and then smack him upside his noggin and physically throw his ass out of the courtroom!!!

But you know how things work in today's world. He'll probably settle out of court and force all baseball teams to re-think their marketing plans. The hard part? this asshat's a lawyer!

Hold onto your floppy hats, keychains, replica jerseys, bobbleheads and refrigerator magnets!

What I did this summer

Diamond mind

You KNOW you've had too much exposure to baseball when the following happens:

While typing an email to a colleague while at work, I heard CNN say "Babe Ruth is under attack." I couldn't help but think, "what? the guy's dead! who's attacking a dead guy?" But then I thought maybe they are doing a soft news story about baseball and the Babe Ruth homerun record and they mean that his RECORD is being threatened. You know, the whole Barry Bonds homerun thing.

I looked up at the television in our office and saw that CNN was actually doing a story on Beirut!

Um, okay, now I get it.

Weekend in Washington

I've been to many professional baseball parks in my travels and this past weekend found me in our nation's capital, visiting Jada, my sister J and, of course, catching a few Cubs games at Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Stadium.
And you can't be in Washington DC without seeing some political figures. But I'm pretty sure our forefathers didn't see this coming...

On the road (?) again

In one of my favorite movies, "It's a Wonderful Life," Jimmy Stewart's character wistfully details his future, one he envisions will include travel to exotic destinations. George tells Uncle Billy, "the three most exciting sounds are plane motors, anchor chains, and train whistles."

I couldn't agree more! Nothing puts me in a better mood than knowing I'm going on a trip.

Funny thing is, I've got so many trips planned for the next few months that I had to remember which airline I'm flying and out of which airport I'm leaving for my trip TODAY!!! Yep, I'm off to the East Coast where I'll visit Jada and my "Sister J" and, um, okay, so I'm going to two Cubs/Nationals games too! You knew THAT was happening.

I bought the game tickets months ago, before I ever met The Announcer (for the Nationals). But, yes, I did call and let him know I'd be in town. He sounded pleased, so we'll see. Hopefully, he can meet us for drinks tonight.

But what REALLY made my heart beat a bit faster today was the booking I made for my annual birthday trip in November. We have a precarious situation at my office currently, one that would prevent any normal human being from planning a disappearance. But, hey, this is me! and travel is a big part of who I am, so damned! I was defininitely going...somewhere!

For the past five years, I've been fortunate enough to be able to celebrate my birthday in another city, usually another country. It's totally hedonistic and I love it! Originally, the plan was to travel to new and exciting places every year without seeing the same country twice, at least until I'd seen every continent.

And then I went to Australia.

Unless you've been there, there is no way to explain the love affair I have with the land Down Under. The Sydney Opera House, the Great Barrier Reef, Melbourne. I can't help but smile when I think of my old friends, having visited them three or four times in the past six years.

I'm always home in time for Thanksgiving, and that's where it gets tricky. I try to use frequent flier miles for my birthday trips (who wants to pay for their own birthday??), but the freebies are severely limited and snatched up very quickly. So, when Erin of United's award travel told me that she could get me on flights to take me to and from Sydney, I wanted to crawl through the phone line and hug her!

Happy Friday everybody!!!

It's a look

My hair is getting pretty long. Actually, it's longer than its been in years. Celebrating this burst of cranial protein, I flat-ironed my hair yesterday. It's just something I do occasionally when I'm bored and I'd like a different look. Of course when I did it, I didn't realize that I'd uncovered my alter-ego...

Solitary Confinement

Yep folks, it was strep throat and for about two days, I was locked up. That's never a good thing for me. Makes me crazy.

On Thursday, I almost drowned in my own saliva because it hurt too bad to swallow. My wonderful doctor gave me some drugs, including a prescription for amoxycillin (sp?).
Okay, answer me this: if I can't even swallow my own spit, how I am expected to choke down this horse pill?? The answer? My answer for everything - - ice cream! My dad would've been proud to see me pulverizing a pill. I then sprinkled said drug on vanilla ice cream, added orange juice and VOILA! an amped-up dreamsicle!

After sleeping for no less than 11 hours, I awoke on Friday and COULD SWALLOW!!!! Okay, the throat was still sore, but solid food was no longer the enemy. Question of the day: does anyone know what Alexander Fleming was famous for?*

Sitting at home wallowing in my misery, I got a bit cranky (hard to believe, I know!!) and toyed with the idea of getting all dressed up and going out, spreading the joy of strep throat. Specifically, I planned to hook up with ex-boyfriends and play tonsil-hockey for a while and then merrily go on my way to the next victim. A modern day Typhoid Mary! Fortunately, I had not taken the other drugs yet, or else the trouble REALLY would've started.

The other drug my doctor prescribed was steroids. I wanted to say, "Hey doc, I'm not in the lineup today, what's with the juice?" She explained that the steroids would bring down the chipmunk-like swelling in my throat. The side effects she mentioned were hunger, sleep disruptions and possible depression. Little did she know...

I discovered a few other side effects when I went to bed on Friday. I set my alarm clock so that I didn't sleep all day on Saturday. I can't even explain why I set the alarm when I had nowhere to go and nothing to do on Saturday. Anyway, when I awoke to no alarm and checked the settings, I realized that I had set the alarm to wake me up Saturday NIGHT!
Steroid side effect #1: stupidity.

Saturday was so beautiful and warm that I wanted to get some sun, so I pulled on a bikini and trotted up to the rooftop deck where I knew I'd be alone. Everyone else has freedom!!! Everyone else is at.the.beach! Half asleep in the sun, I noticed that my tall, dark-haired, cute Irish neighbor had taken a spot about 10 feet away from me on the deck. A smile crept across my face as the fantasies began.
Steroid side effect #2: horniness.

In light of those two interactions, I guess it's probably a good thing I was quarantined.

*Oh, I forgot! My hero, Alexander Fleming, was a Scottish scientist who discovered penicillin in 1928. Why we won't have a worldwide holiday in his honor is beyond me!

Fire in the hole

Daggers. Hundreds of them. They sit poised just between the jagged shards of glass and just behind the pools of fiery gasoline that line my vocal cords. My body tenses to absorb the explosion of torture that comes with every swallow.

Sleep is not an option.

Is this what strep throat feels like?

I'll find out this afternoon.

Wish me luck.

Belly lint??

On one of our rare sunny days recently, I threw on a bikini, packed up a mini-chair, book, radio and some sunscreen and trudged the two flights of stairs up to the roof of my building in search of a tan. Knowing I would get hungry the moment I finished applying sunscreen, I also packed a granola bar and a bottle of water. Smart, huh?

Reclining into my green sun chair, I crunched into the granola bar and was a bit embarrassed to see a tiny crumb of granola roll down my chest and disappear into the canyon of my belly button. I have to say that the "navel" is an area of the body that's always grossed me out. It's the leftover knot where once a life-giving hose was attached. Needless to say, I really didn't want to have to go digging in this mysterious crevice for a miniscule food item.

Not to attract the attention of my fellow sunbathers, I remained in the reclining position and brushed my hand down my belly in an attempt to dislodge the offending item. The crumb flew up in the air momentarily and then immediately disappeared once again...kind of like an ant on a trampoline.

After a few minutes of unsuccessful (but highly entertaining) brushing, I rolled over to my side and out skipping the bit of granola. At the same time, the sun went behind some newly arrived clouds and my fun in the sun was over.

I tried to avoid the concerned look of my neighboring sunbather as I quickly collected my belongings and retreated to my apartment for the evening.

Bulls-eye

I'm sitting here at my desk with my mouth hanging open and staring at one of the TVs in our lobby.

The reason for my shock?

A manager for the Sears Tower (my office location) has just said that the Sears Tower is no more a target than any other building in the city or the country.

Um, what?!?!?!

So, why did the FBI just arrest a bunch of hoodlums in Miami who were trying to concoct a plan to blow up my place of business??

Let me guess...These goofballs held a meeting in their Florida warehouse where they randomly pulled out a map of the US, closed their eyes, spun around a few times and blindly pointed to the Sears Tower?!?!?

Kind of a terrorist pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.

CNN just featured some high-level flunkee from the Sears Tower management office who stated that our security is the "best in the business." (You'd think he was running for office!)

This crack security team is the same group of folks who recently trashed a local restaurant's food cart when they tried to make a delivery in the building but doesn't bat an eye when my outsdoorsy colleagues carry in several highly flammable cooktops for camping.

I carry a backpack and a purse to work every morning. I usually place the backpack on the conveyor belt so that the security guard can scan it (if he's looking at the screen and not chatting with a coworker). THEY DON'T SCAN MY PURSE....EVER!

Yep, just gives you that warm and cozy feeling of safety, don't it???

Crumbs to a starving person

"I'm glad you handled everything."

I had to hold onto the corner of a desk to keep from falling down when one of our bosses said this to me today, the first day of a local conference at which my company exhibits. This guy has been here for over two years, but is just NOW learning some of the many reasons that I am a valuable employee (any why our new CEO is thrilled that I still work here after eight years).

The Exhibitors' Handbook instructed participants to send all of their conference materials to a conference services company, located about an hour away in the far northwest suburbs.

Our company, however, is located about a mile from the conference site, a veritable hop, skip and a jump away.

I dutifully ignored the silly, unnecessarily expensive shipping instructions and sent our materials directly the show site via a local messenger service.

Why was this a stroke of genius?

1) shipping costs will be approximately one-third to one-quarter of those from the conference services company, and
2) our materials arrived on site in one complete shipment unlike one of our competitor's materials, which were somehow shipped to Milwaukee!!!

Music to my ears!

Slow sports day

What's going on over at ESPN??? Since I work in an international company, we've been watching World Cup Soccer. Okay, the "foreigners" are watching and the Americans are enjoying a diversion from internet surfing.

First off, what the HELL, US team!?!?!? You guys looked like shit! Getting beat, 3-0 in the first round?!?!? We shoulda sent the Chicago Fire! I hear they're pretty good.

I left the televisions on ESPN after the soccer game (mostly because I was busy doing actual WORK, believe it or not!) and when I looked up, ESPN was broadcasting...get ready for this...CHAMPIONSHIP DOMINOES! No kidding! We didn't have the sound on, so I couldn't hear any of the commentary, but it appeared that the teams were made up of four black men.

Did R. Kelly finally get a new hobby?

15 seconds of fame, again

Yep, that's me you're seeing on our public television station in Chicago. According to one viewer/colleague in my office, I am now a celebrity.

Well, I don't know about that.

I think it was last year, I'm not sure. Anyway, I was standing in front of Wrigley Field before a Cubs game (rare occasion, I know) and some guy from Channel 11 came up to me and asked me if I wanted to do a station ID.

Those of you that know me know how shy I am. Wait, wait...I have to stop laughing so I can type this...

Anyway, I watch public television from time to time, so I knew what he was talking about when he asked about the station ID. They appear at the "top of the hour" and usually feature one or two Chicagoans doing whatever (selling hot dogs, delivering newspapers, waiting to buy Cubs tickets) who look at the camera and say, "Hi, I'm ..... You're watching Channel 11, WTTW Chicago" or something to that effect.

When my station ID started appearing last year, I was approached by random people who recognized me. It was pretty weird. The security guard from the building where I work saw the station ID, my aunt who was visiting from Florida saw it (and hence my mom), an ex-boyfriend saw it.

Wonder who will see me this year?

Next!

It seems as though my social dance card is once again empty...or at least the pickings are VERY slim. Let's review:

The Announcer
After meeting him at a Cubs game several weeks ago and receiving an invitation to meet him in Milwaukee soon after, I never heard from him again. However, I had already purchased tickets to the Cubs/Nationals game in DC in July, so I'm weighing my options on whether or not to call him before I arrive in DC.

Status: Acquaintances, if that.


The Editor
Having met him for dinner, drinks and an unexpected goodnight kiss, I wasn't particularly surprised to find that he was looking for a date for an upcoming wedding. I have no interest in him as a friend much less as a potential date, so I politely declined the invitation.

Status: Dead in the water as far as I'm concerned.


Dancing Lawyer
He's been out of town the past few weekends, but he's managed to keep in touch via cell phone even when I was in St. Louis. If I could surgically remove several wonderful features of the Dancing Lawyer (good job, attentiveness, good manners) and insert them into an older, more sophisticated, more attractive, more wordly man - what a catch that would be!!!

Status: Terminal.

Flight Attendant
Quite possibly the worst would-be boyfriend (even if he didn't live out of town). Invited me to a Cubs game waaaayy in advance and then didn't contact me AT ALL until one hour (!) before said game! Uh, yeah, right! Since then, he's texted me a few times when he watching a Cubs game and he thinks I might be too. Too much work on my part for too little return. And he's not that cute.

Status: Not worth more than an occasional text, if that! DOA.

In light of this, I've decided to jump into summer with both feet and be EVERYWHERE! (Okay, even if Mother Nature isn't quite cooperating with her crappy 60s and 70s-ish weather!!!). So far, the activities include:
- a graduate school grad party tonight with FC2
- a day of volunteer service tomorrow (also with FC2) that should include painting and or planting stuff.
- bleacher seats for a Cubs night game on Wednesday.
- corporate outing at Arlington Park Racecourse in a few weeks.
- bar-b-q at Violet's place next week.
- volunteer bartending job for one night at a HUGE street festival in July.
- beach volleyball on Wednesday nights.

With all of that people-meeting, I hope my dance card won't be empty for long! Anybody wanna join me??

Best t-shirt seen in St. Louis

The front: "Caution: inebriated Cubs fan"




The back:

In enemy territory without reinforcements

On a whim, I decided to roadtrip to St. Louis and support my Cubs in their efforts against the rat-bastard Cardinals. Keep in mind that my boys are languishing in fifth place while St. Louis sits atop the division.
Here is my weekend, by the numbers:
300 - number of miles between Chicago and St. Louis.
3.5 - number of hours it took me to get to St. Louis on Saturday morning
0 - number of speeding tickets received (whew!)
2 - number of games my Cubs took from the Cardinals (of a 3-game series YAY!)
4 - number of blocks from the new Busch Stadium my hotel was located
3 - number of drinks offered to me by locals
65 - age of first St. Louis man I met (investment banker who drives a pickup truck...seriously!)
5 - number of Chicago Cubs personnel I met while at dinner Saturday night (including Dusty Baker, Ryan Dempster, Glendon Rusch, Derrek Lee and Jacque Jones)
11 - time of evening that Dancing Lawyer called me after I texted him about Cubs encounter.
88 - dollars spent on each ticket in the elite section of the new Busch Stadium
7 - inning in which the supposedly "elite" food court closed!
69 - price of my hotel room (and a Radisson next to the Arch, no less!)
15.75 - dollars spent to buy a flame-baked pizza and a large beer at Busch

The look on closer Ryan Dempster's face when a young Cubs fan repeatedly called to him to get an autograph - - except that he called him "Kerry Wood!"

PRICELESS!

What.do.you.want?

Looking back on my "date" with The Editor, I don't think I mentioned that I came right out and asked him why he contacted me. Honestly, I didn't give a rat's ass about how the evening ended and if I was being abrupt. I mean JEEZ! we hadn't seen each other in over six years!

His answer?

"Well, I was thinking about you and when that basketball tournament came up, I knew you'd be interested in helping out."

NOT!!!

After the kiss, I knew the out-of-the-blue call had nothing to do with some shitty basketball tournament. But it gets better.

Friday: we met for drinks and dinner.

Saturday: email from The Editor thanking me for meeting him and saying he'll call me soon.

WHY???

On Monday, the other shoe finally dropped. The Editor sent me another email, asking me if I'd be interested in going to a wedding with him in June.

A HA!!

How do I nicely say, "not a chance in hell!"?

Life Lessons I Learned from Baseball

1. Although you are ultimately responsible only for your own behavior, you will attain greater success if you work well with others.
2. Patience pays off.
3. Sometimes you have to make a small sacrifice for the greater good.
4. Don't make other people feel bad about their failure even when you succeed.
5. Try your hardest all the time and your efforts will eventually be rewarded.
6. Listen to your body's needs. If you're hurt, don't push it.
7. Use the right equipment for your job.
8. If you are fortunate enough to have a veteran near you, ask them questions and then LISTEN!
9. Sometimes you have to take risks to reap big benefits.
10. Flash can lead to fame, but consistency leads to longevity.

Drinks with The Editor

So The Editor and I made plans to meet at a downtown bar after work Friday. He was driving from the far south suburbs and I was taking the "L" from the other side of downtown, so I wasn't surprised when I didn't see him when I walked in.

Since it was a beautifully warm afternoon, I raced up to the bar's rooftop deck when I arrived at 5-ish. The plan was to meet at 5:15-5:30, so I grabbed a quick beer and found a spot at a table. The Editor and I worked together for seven years in the sports department of a south suburban newspaper, but I hadn't seen him in about that many years.

Okay, this might sound bad, but I really didn't care if I saw The Editor or not. We were business friends* years ago, but not having him in my life in the past six or seven years hasn't exactly left a gaping hole. I admit to an itty-bitty amount of curiosity about his re-appearance in my life, but I certainly wouldn't die if I didn't find out.

So 5:15 passes and no Editor. 5:30 comes and goes. It's now 5:45 and I'm thinking that he should call if he's stuck in traffic or lost, so I call his cell phone.

He's downstairs at the bar and has been for over an hour! Says he'll finish his beer and be up in a little while.

Not surprisingly, he looks the same, but older. We have the type of conversation that you'd expect: reminiscing about people from the newsroom, sharing bits of updated info about our lives, wondering aloud about former colleagues with whom we've lost touch.

We decided to go downstairs and get some food, which The Editor ended up paying for. I was irritated because I had planned on paying my part (as friends do).

He said, "You can get the next one."

Um, what?

Leaving the restaurant, The Editor offered a ride home, but I preferred to take the "L" and end the evening soon. We hugged and then I found myself on the unavoidable end of a kiss!

So there it was, Date #4 whether I wanted it or not.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* Business friends - - people with whom you have a temporary friendship because you work together. You probably wouldn't be friends without the work relationship.

Reaching out

Not sure why, but I responded to the email from The Editor and made plans to meet him at an outdoor watering hole tonight after work. He originally wanted to know if I had any plans to be in his neighborhood (since I haven't been in his neighborhood in at least 10 years, I'd say no!)

Anyhoo, The Editor and I worked together about 10 years ago in the sports department of a medium-sized newspaper in the south suburbs. It was a pretty small department, probably seven or eight of us and we often hung out together, despite the fact that I was the only woman on the staff. There is one other fellow sportswriter that I see probably every year or two, but that's it for "keeping in touch."

I've moved on from that life (pretty far removed, I think), so I'm pretty curious as to why he contacted me. Unless his life has dramatically changed, he still lives in the same house, is friends with the same people and works with many of the same individuals that he has for the past, oh, 20 years or so!

He's never been married, never had kids, never traveled outside the US and probably never eaten anything more exotic than tacos.

What does he want with me?

Plan B

In an uncharacteristically disciplined move, I managed to plan and execute a three-day-a-week workout for a whole six months! The result?

Zilch! Absolutely no weight loss and no inches lost. I know they say "you're clothes will fit better." Bullshit! WTF?!?!

Those readers that actually know me in person know that I'm not fat. Far from it. I realize that, but I also know that in the last five years, I've gained a total of 15 pounds. I hadn't gained that much in the previous 15 years combined! When you're small, 15 pounds is like tying a pillow around your ass and trying to slip on a knit skirt over it.

Anyway, I've decided to go to Plan B.

Food is one of my favorite four-letter words, so Plan B might be tough to implement, but I'm going to give it a try...for two weeks. During this time, I will eat no white bread and no sugar. I didn't read this diet recipe in a book or hear about it on Oprah. It's just something I thought I'd try. To see if it makes a difference.

If, after two weeks, I see a difference, maybe I'll continue with it. We'll see.

We're talking no hot dogs, pizza or pretzels at Wrigley Field and no candy or ice cream after lunch at work. This is going to be hard work!

But here's the thing: It's "shorts" season and I'm getting tired of looking down and seeing jello!

Considering I have a bagel for breakfast almost every day and chocolate at least twice a week, you can see that I will have a problem with this. Do you realize how hard it is to avoid white bread when the lunch options in the city revolve around burgers, pizza and sandwiches??

So I am asking you, my lovely, no-doubt healthier-eating readers, to help me plan some meals. Please keep in mind that one cup of fruit in the morning will NOT keep me going until lunchtime!

My ass, abs and thighs thank you!

Dating 101

So there I am last night, watching my beloved Cubs get their asses kicked by the God-forsaken Florida Marlins when my cell phone rings.

It's the Dancing Lawyer.

Honestly! I think he must've read "See Dick Date" or maybe "Dating for Dummies" because he's been incredibly by-the-book this whole time. For example,

1) he called me mid-week to plan a weekend date,
2) he selected a good restaurant (not too cheap/pricey/far away/strange food),
3) he did not keep me out ridiculously late on our date, and
4) he called me on Monday to say "hello" and see if I enjoyed the rest of my weekend.

Geez!

In a weird twist of cell phone fate, DL called just as I was busy answering a text from Flight Attendant. He sent a txt telling me that he was attending the aforementioned Cubs game, where he was sitting and what he was wearing. (No, I didn't spot him on TV.)

Can I get a show of hands to see who thought I would hear from FA again after our Cubs-game-date debacle?

Curiously enough, I think FA might invite me to another Cubs game. As I was deleting old text messages from him, I found one from a few weeks ago where he lists the games he will see in Chicago - - including games this Saturday and Sunday. We'll see if I get an invitation with more than an hour or so to spare.

I mean, seriously, didn't he read the book?

Song of my life

I went on a dinner date with Dancing Lawyer on Saturday night. We dined at a cute little family-owned Italian restaurant, a safe choice for a first date.

I don't know why I bothered to convene the wardrobe congress to decide my attire when Dancing Lawyer arrived dressed as though he just crawled out of bed: jeans, an unironed and untucked white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled over and the neck unbuttoned to display a white undershirt.

On the evening that we met, DL's hair situation was a mystery since he wore a baseball cap (backwards) all evening. This night, however, the thin blond coif was gelled into a stunted rhino horn. Add to that the slight goatee and he seemed to be quite...pointed. If his hair had been dark, he would've made a great Satan.

In a surprisingly thoughtful move, DL remembered part of our initial conversation and asked me about a situation at my office. I jumped in with what I hoped was an interesting (and not too long) story of international business. He bounced back with his own company's travails and the evening's conversation volleyed back and forth at a good pace.

He spoke of planning a trip with his brother. I REALLY didn't want to hit the "how old are you?" button, so I sidestepped it with "just one brother? older or younger?"

His older brother is 30!

I forced a forkful of gnocchi in my mouth (since it was already hanging open) and tried to think of a new topic - quick!

By dinner's end, I had decided that my new social strategy will include dating in bulk: if I can't get quality, go for quantity.

Stopping in the ladies room while DL paid the bill, I froze in my tracks when a line from the recorded background music hit my ears.

"They're all either too young or too old."

Another station heard from

I get a lot of spam. Okay, everybody gets lots of spam. Usually, I just delete it without opening it, but today something seemed familair about one email although I didn't recognize the sender's name.

So I opened it.

"Hey Writer,
It was nice getting to catch up with you a little bit over the weekend. This week's a bit busy with volleyball and softball, but maybe we can get together next Friday. Let me know what works for you.
The Editor"

Okay, so it wasn't really signed "The Editor" but you know how things work on the Internet (protecting privacy and all that).

Trouble was, I sat there thinking, "Who is the Editor?" Did I meet somebody by that name while out with FC2? At a Cubs game maybe?

I racked my brain for an answer.

The Editor? The Editor? Who is this guy?

Well, let's see: there's FA, Lion King, Cub Fan, the Announcer, Dancing Lawyer...jeez! did somebody dip me in pheromones while I was sleeping or what??

Life, love and the infield fly rule

Luck. Chance. Fate. Or for the really melodramatic among us- destiny. Do we have any takers? Does anybody really believe in this stuff or are the chapters of our lives full of random occurrences?

I don't know, but today seemed to have the full rollercoaster of ups and downs, luck-wise.

As you probably remember, I was supposed to attend Wednesday night's Cubs game with FA, but he was a no-show...or so I thought when I accepted Announcer's offer of a free ticket and a few drinks after the game.

Gametime: 7:05. My cell phone rang Wednesday evening at 6 pm. It was a text message from FA. He had just landed in the crummy, rainy weather and would contact me when he got closer. I started to fume about his last-minute check-in, but then I realized that I already had fabulous plans for the evening. The "nice person" in me decided that if I contacted FA quickly, he could offer his other ticket to a coworker, so I texted back.

"No word from you, so I made other plans. Sorry."

His reply.

"I wasn't home all week. My fault."

Pretty lame excuse for someone that travels for a living and loves to communicate via text message!

Anyway, I went to the game and Announcer left a very good ticket for me. He called me from the booth just before the game started and we made plans to meet after the game (which the Cubs won!!)

Oh, and before the game started, I checked my phone and saw that I missed a call from the Dancing Lawyer. I met him last week when FC2 and I went out for a stroll down Clark Street. Nice guy, good conversation, but two problems: 1) too young, and, 2) not physically attractive to me. But I decided I could always go out with him at least once. You never know.

But I digress...

Dinner plans fell through when the game ran late, so Announcer and I grabbed a snack and some drinks nearby. I had almost forgotten that he's pretty well known in Chicago (even on the North Side), so I was almost surprised and a bit annoyed when a few other sports fan interrupted our conversation throughout the evening.

Announcer suggested I drive up to Milwaukee to see his team play in a few weeks, even offering me a team schedule, so I didn't forget. Oh, in case I haven't mentioned it before, nothing physical has happened...at least nothing more than a hug and a kiss on the cheek. And he took my arm when we left the ballpark. It's all very casual, which is good.

Today (Thursday) I took a "personal day" off from work. Okay, so I took a day off to see Kerry Wood in his first game since last year. I'm a big baseball fan, sue me!

I couldn't reach Announcer to tell him I would be there (although I'm pretty sure I mentioned it earlier). But after winning a replica 1955 Jackie Robinson Dodgers Jersey in a scratch-off drawing, I was excited to tell somebody, but I couldn't find anyone!!!

So I sent a text to FA.

He texted back to congratulate me and said he was in Aisle 34 (about six sections over from me). Did he ask where I was sitting?
No.

Did he suggest we meet up after the game?
No.

Did he tell me when he'll be in town next?
No.

Yep, NEXT!

I had left a message earlier for Announcer and, in my excitement from winning the jersey, tried to call him a second time. Oooh, cardinal sin! Two messages from one woman in less than two hours! How needy!

Needless to say, I wasn't going to call him.

Here's where fate/luck/destiny jumps in. I was leaving the ballpark pretty late (as usual) and I stopped in the ladies room near the bleachers. I had planned to take the Red Line home and that's the closest exit. Upon leaving the loo, who do I run into? Announcer!

He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and said he was going to call me but he didn't have any signal. We chatted for about 15 minutes and he reminded me about the Milwaukee games. I showed him the jersey and he was very impressed. He said he'd call me before the Milwaukee series, gave me a hug and another kiss on the cheek and boarded the team bus for the airport.

So, friends and neighbors, here's the scorecard as it stands now:

FA - a goner unless some amazingly gutsy/thoughtful/romantic steps are taken on his part.

Announcer- still in friends stage, I think. Don't know if anything will ever develop. Not sure if I want it to considering the age difference and geography.

Dancing Lawyer - date planned for Saturday night. We'll see.

Pinch-hitter

The Cubs game starts in 6 hours and I have heard NOTHING from FA regarding our plan to attend the game together. Am I upset?

Actually, no. For two reasons:
1) since FA lives in Florida, had a number of little-boy-in-grown-man's-body issues, and wasn't all that cute anyway, the boyfriend possibility was minimal, and
2) not one, but TWO guys offered to leave me a free ticket if I want to come to tonight's game!

Okay, don't get too excited about #2 because one of them is a Cubs security guy (married) and the other one is an announcer for the Washington Nationals (not sure on the married thing, but he's considerably older than me).

A little background...Firecracker, FC2, Golden Girl and I attended last night's game and had a little early celebration for FC2's birthday. After the Cubs won (yay!! it's about time!!), all of us except Firecracker went over to one of the local watering holes.

When we arrived, I ran into a sportswriter friend of mine that covers the Cubs. We chatted for a bit and then he disappeared into the crowd. About 20 minutes later, I got the feeling that I should go and find him again. When I did, he was talking to the Announcer and was kind enough to introduce me.

Announcer offered to leave me a ticket for tonight's game and in doing so, gave me his cell phone number and told me where he's staying and his room number. Oh, did I mention that he used to be a professional baseball player?

Yep, it was an interesting evening. Wonder what tonight will bring?

Keeping the door open

A few years back, I dated a guy who got angry when he discovered that I was still listed on the online dating service Match.com while we were dating. He was really mad, or maybe he was hurt, I don't know, but he wanted me to de-activate my profile. Whatever.

I never expected to find "my soulmate" on Match, so it didn't really matter to me that my profile was still active. Before you start to wonder, no! I'm not active on Match.com anymore.

Anyway, I was really bored at home the other night, so I thought I'd see if the Match.com talent pool was as shallow now as it was then. Surprisingly enough, my specifc search turned up quite a few attractive men. And then I came across one that I recognized. It took a few minutes, but I realized that the guy lives down the hall from me...with his girlfriend and her daughter!

Wonder if she'd be as angry as my boyfriend was?

To date or not to date?

Well, it's been two weeks since I last heard from FA and we're supposed to go to the Cubs game this Wednesday evening.

Let's take a poll: who thinks I'll have a date for the game Wednesday?

Goodbye Auntie Mame

I've often felt that I was born at the wrong time. I can (and usually do) sing along to the music of Frank Sinatra and Glenn Miller, but couldn't even name one song by Brittney Spears or Jennifer Lopez.

I was born too late to know Rosemary in her heyday. I'm at the tail end of a large family with several generations mixed in, so we tend to confuse the specifics of who's related and who's not. I think Rosemary was my father's cousin (or maybe her husband Chuck was, I don't know).

My extended family holds two reunions per year- - one in the summer and one just after Thanksgiving. They've done this for years and we have the black-and-white home movies to prove it. Rosemary and Chuck used to entertain at the winter reunion. No, they weren't professionals, but they were good. He played a grand piano and she, a statuesque blond, sang showtunes from atop the piano.

She was the only woman I've ever known who smoked a cigarette at the end of a long holder and she did it with style. Okay, she did everything with style, but maybe that was just my view as an impressionable grade schooler.

I used to imagine the wonderfully exotic life they lived. Traveling all over the world, dining at amazing restaurants, meeting important people from all walks of life. Actually, I don't know if any of this ever happened because I was too young to know anything about them except that they were family.

Rosemary loved sports. Actually, she had asked her kids to tell her what channel the game was on just the night before the heart attack hit. She was putting on her makeup, blotting her lipstick the way classy women of a certain ago do.

And then she was gone.

It's such a small part of my childhood from so many years ago, but for some reason, I know I'll miss her.

Head explodes from pressure release: film at 11

To say I've been a wee bit tense about my job situation would be an understatement. Actually, I've been pretty much one big clenched butt muscle for about a year now.

Until today.

Our new CEO is a tough, but fair man who formerly held the position of board member for this same company until about five years ago. When I heard he was coming back, I resisted the urge to do a little happy dance.

You see, he's always been appreciative of my work and pretty good to work with. I won't say he's a pushover because he's definitely NOT (Hell, he's German!), but he says what he means (a pretty unique talent around here lately).

Currently, our office is in a state of upheaval with part of the company being sold off (or killed off, depending who you ask) and only about a dozen people being kept on staff. Trouble is, for a variety of reasons, I haven't had much support in my role here.

Until today.

The CEO arrived and I met him in the hallway and couldn't resist giving him a hug. He had a big smile when he saw me and hugged me back with a very-European two-cheek kiss. He told me I haven't changed a bit! (he looks exactly the same, too!) It was more like a meeting of old friends, rather than one of boss and totem-pole bottom dweller.

He mentioned that he and his wife will attend my former co-worker's wedding in Barcelona, Spain and asked if I was going, too.

"I'd like to, but I have to see if I have a job here first," I said quietly.

"Don't worry. You have my 100% support. I'm glad you're still here."

I coulda kissed him.

Sex, drugs and Iowa farmboys

You know it's going to be an interesting evening when a total stranger compares you to heroin.
Or maybe he was offering some...

I don't know.

Anyway, Firecracker, FC2 and I headed out for dinner and some fun on Saturday. As we finished our dinners, an older businessman passed by our table and said something about heroin as he pointed at me, mentioned marijuana and pointed at FC2 and said "neither" when he motioned to Firecracker.

We all sat there in stunned confusion.

"Huh?"

Without any explanation, the stranger walked away and out of the restaurant. Is it a full moon or what?

Strolling over to one of the city's biggest Irish bars, the three of us made our way up to the top floor where a live band was belting out Irish songs of all kinds, including U2. At one point, a cute blond guy approached me and asked if I'd do him a favor.

"Um, maaayybeee."

It seems we had stumbled upon a bachelor party featuring a groom from Sioux City, Iowa and a gang of fellas who hauled ass into Chicago in an RV.
No shit.

Groom was marrying cute blond guy's sister and cute blond guy was married to groom's sister. I know what you're thinking...are you sure they're from Iowa and not Alabama??

The favor was pretty tame by Saturday-night-in-Chicago standards: deposit a big I Love Lucy-style lipstick smooch on his cheek.

Sure! Why not? After planting one on Groom, he asked if he could "dip" me and pretend to kiss me. (Great! I only get the pretend kiss! Life is sooo not fair!)

Little did our group know, but that was only the beginning.

The Iowa boys seem to be making up Groom's "to do" list as they went along and I'm thinking they saw some of this stuff in movies. Pretty soon FC2 and Groom were chatting, only to disappear into the crowd moments later.

Firecracker and I looked at each other and shrugged.

Groom emerged from the crowd two minutes later WEARING FC2's PANTIES ON HIS HEAD!!!
She gave us a big smile and flashed the finder's fee she received. (Was this in Sixteen Candles?)

Okay, now she was on a roll and the farmers seemed to agree.

Next up? A body shot!

Before we knew it, FC2 was laid out on the table amidst the Iowa contingent with her shirt rolled partially up. Why roll the shirt up? To make space for the salt, of course!

A shot glass of tequila was placed just under her boobs and a lime slice between her lips. As Firecracker and I watched, Groom licked the salt off FC2's belly, drank the shot and kissed the lime from her mouth.

Yee-hah!!

I think the farmers were pretty floored by our Chicago hospitality. I also think they were all out of ideas by now (and probably out of money, too, as they bought Buttery Nipples for Firecracker and FC2 and a Jagermeister for me.)

It was put-up or shut-up time and the Iowa boys were all about shutting up, especially since almost all of them were married. It was just as well, as it was closing time and my tired ass was ready to go home.

Never did figure out the whole heroin, marijuana or neither thing...

One down, five to go

In my effort to have six dates in 2006, I've finally managed ONE! Yep, FA contacted me last night when he landed from yet another flight from London. I was walking back from a crappy, rainy Cubs loss (that he already knew about) when I received the text message.

The hassle of U.S. Customs and highway traffic delayed our meeting till after 8, but we finally managed to sit down to a casual dinner and a few cocktails.

We had a really great conversation about one of our common loves - - travel. Of course, since he works for an airline, he has been to many more places but I didn't find myself envious...except when he mentioned that he'll be spending a week or so on his friend's boat off the coast of Malta!

He mentioned that he'll be turning 40 in about a month and he'll have a party at his home in Ft. Lauderdale. He invited me to come down for it, but it was a very casual invitation, so I'll wait to see if he mentions it again before I consider it.

Still on the travel theme, I talked about my plans to go to Croatia with my mother and he said he remembered me telling him about that when we met. Then he berated himself for forgetting the 4-page spread on Croatia that he read in the London Daily Herald. He wanted to bring it for me and he forgot.

He paid for dinner and let me leave a tip (when I offered). We moved into the bar area and tried to squeeze up to the bar. He slipped through the crowd and reached back for my hand to pull me toward him. We found seats at the bar and ordered a round.

We chatted a bit and people-watched as a horrendous band fumbled through a bizarre musical set that had us wincing in pain at their "singing." Too funny! FA mentioned that he should go back to London and apologize to the karoake bar that he made fun of a few nights ago.

It might have been near midnight (I never checked the time) when I decided that I'd better get home so I wouldn't miss work. FA walked me back to my car and went around to the driver's side TO OPEN MY DOOR (do guys still do that??). Oh, did I mention that during dinner, FA asked if I wanted some water from the pitcher on our table, poured my water and refilled my glass later.

A gentleman? Geez, I forgot what they looked like!

I drove him back to his hotel and during a rare lull in our conversation, I mentally reveiwed the evening: good conversation, a few laughs and a nice, casual dinner. In a previous text message, he had invited me to join him for a Cubs game in a few weeks. I wondered if I should confirm the invitation. (Let's have a show of hands to see who thought at least ONE of my dates in 2006 would include a baseball game??)

Reading my thoughts, he asked if I am still available for the game in a few weeks.

I smiled, "Sure."

After a nice kiss goodnight, I let him out of the car and he said he'll text me tomorrow before he leaves. I pulled into my garage and my cell phone vibrated.

The case of the missing artwork

I have a theory (okay, several, but only one I'll write about here). Feel free to borrow it.

When faced with a dilemma and no ideas present themselves, I often find it helpful to share the situation with a few people who are outside the immediate scope of the problem. I find that the answers sometimes hide behind unlikely doors.

The new CEO of our European-based company is a man who held a similar position for our company eight years ago when I first came on board. He left several years ago but was brought back earlier this month.

When the Chicago office first opened, the CEO purchased a piece of artwork and hung it in our lobby. Now he wanted to know if it's still here. In the time that I've been with this company, we have moved not once, but twice! If you've ever moved, you know how often things get lost, damaged or just left behind. This can't have happened to this picture!

I had a very good reputation with this man years ago and it was critical that I continue to shine in his eyes.

Although I had no idea if this picture survived our moves, something told me that it had...and that it was in our current office SOMEWHERE. And no, it wasn't hanging up in someone's office. That would be too easy.

After checking every nook and cranny, every storage room, every closet, I came across another veteran of our company, a man who worked in the original office. He works for a different division of our company, so our paths don't cross very often.

Of course he has it! As a gag (since it's actually pretty ugly), he grabbed it when we moved out and kept it in his office. It's leaning against the wall next to his desk and sure! I can have it.

Whew!

An American bride...and a Spanish groom

In the course of our many years on this planet, we have the potential to meet thousands of people. How do we decide which ones to keep in our lives and which do we allow to simply pass through?

Of course, it isn't always our choice.

As many of my readers already know, I recently received an invitation to a bridal shower for a woman with whom I'd lost touch several years ago. A few days ago, I received the actual wedding invitation, addressed to "The Writer and Guest." Oh yay! Another opportunity to flaunt my single-ness in a room full of couples.

I've already written off the shower, but I haven't decided about the wedding. It's in Chicago, so travel isn't the issue. The person I know the most at the wedding is the person I'll be able to talk to the least (the bride).

This morning, I received another wedding invitation. This one is from a former colleague who left the Chicago office at least three years ago. Our contact since then has been limited to an email or two per year. We also got a chance to catch up at one of the European weddings I attended last year.

And now it's his turn.

Oh, did I mention he's Spanish and the wedding is in a small village north of Barcelona?? And he's inviting several of the same former colleagues that I partied with in Germany last summer and North Carolina earlier this month.

Hmmmnn... Which wedding to go to?

Another update on FA

He's on a plane!!! Unfortunately, it's going to Mexico City, not Chicago. He said he's going to be in Chicago on Sunday afternoon. Well, fat lotta good that does me now, sitting here with TWO TICKETS behind the Cubs dugout!

I know, I know, I shouldn't have bought the tickets without getting info from him, especially since it's only about 40 degrees outside!. Oh well! This uncertainty goes a long way toward explaining why FA is still single.

After contacting Firecracker and FC2 (neither can go), I called a client/friend of mine (no go) and even Cub Fan (doesn't want to freeze again and still mourning the missed cruise). Firecracker has a colleague that's a baseball fan despite his upbringing in California, so that's a possibility.

FA also txt that he'll be in Chicago on Sunday (or did he mean that he'll be home on Sunday??). As you can tell, this is a situation where it'll be better for me to keep my expectations at a minimum.

Go Cubs! BRRRR!!!

Update on folks I know...

specifically, guys I know.

Lion King - - had dinner with me on Friday. I had hoped it would be a laughter-filled evening of good food and great conversation. Unfortunately, it felt much more like a session with a shrink. Lion King has a way of asking very probing questions and eliciting much more information that I think should be shared with someone who is JUST A FRIEND.

Cub Fan - - brought the final three cubes of my storage unit and installed the entire thing on Sunday afternoon. We worked together to get all the pieces together in the proper order with the brushed nickel pulls installed. When a screw was loose on one of the nightstand drawers, Cub Fan put the drawer on my bed and pulled out a cordless drill. Finally! There's some screwing going on in here! (No, I didn't say it out loud, I only thought it..and not about him.)

Cub Fan booked his first-ever cruise to celebrate finally getting a job and was planning to leave Monday morning, so when I received an email from him Tuesday morning, I was concerned. The bad weather on the East Coast delayed his stopover, so he missed the connection and therefore, the cruise! Worse yet, he won't get the pre-payment back because the delay was weather-related! I offered to try to help him find a last-minute cheap trip to a beach somewhere, but his travel budget was already shot. I feel terrible for him.

But kinda good for me because I got a txt msg from FA last night...several, in fact.

FA - - Might be on his way to Chicago right now. We txt during the Cubs' comeback win last night (Go Cubs!!!!) and he invited me to join him at the Cubs game in mid-May and said that he's trying to get a flight to Chicago to go to the game tonight. I was already planning to go anyway, but in my excitement, I ordered two tickets online. They're behind the Cubs dugout!!!
Okay, so it's supposed to be ridiculously cold tonight. I'll bring a blanket and MIGHT have someone to keep me warm!!

The room is finally finished!!!!!!!!!!

Ha! Ha! Fooled you! This is actually the BEFORE pictures, because, after all, what would a good before-and-after story be without the terrible "before" pictures.

But prior to the room unveiling, I have to share with you some of the fun activities that helped me to keep my sanity (insert joke here) during this very trying time...





It should come as no surprise that they are Cubs-related, specifically, the bleacher recontruction project, Cubs Spring Training and also the highlight of every spring...Opening Day. For the record, if you check the spring training game lineup on the day shown, it includes Marquis Grissom. Just so you know, he retired before the season started...and before my room was finished (nothing implied here, I'm just saying.)

Without further delay, my new master bedroom!!

Chicago, the way it should be...and the way it is

The day before Easter, I was breezing through my not-so-local Dominick's grocery store (my local one burned down, no kidding!). As is custom at my family's house, I had been asked to make "the cheese ball" (recipe to follow) and I was scrounging up the few ingredients.

Two bricks of cream cheese? Check.

One bunch of scallions? Check.

Small package of thin sliced corned beef? Um, well, no.

There's a particular brand of corned beef that I've always used and Dominick's was out of it. Strangely enough, they were out of the house brand, too, and any other brand. They had ham, turkey and beef, but no corned beef. It was like everyone on the North Side of Chicago was making the same cheese ball.

Off I went to the deli to see if they had any more in the back. On the way, I ran into the manager and explained my situation. He strolled into the deli and spoke to an older man in a long white butcher's apron.

The butcher came out, walked past me without a word and went directly to the refrigerator that was missing the corned beef. He grabbed a huge, one-pound package of said corned beef and asked me, "How much do you need?"

"About two-and-one-half ounces, please," I answered as he passed me and disappeared behind the counter.

A minute later, he handed me a small, shrink-wrapped styrofoam plate containing about eight slices of corned beef. On the wrapper, he wrote, "N.C. Todd."

No charge!

Last night, Cub Man delivered most of the pieces to the modular storage unit that he built for my new master bedroom. The scheduling of the delivery was somewhat problematic because my Gestapo-ruled condo association does not allow for evening deliveries. So I did what I usually do when rules get in my way.

I ignore them.

Cub Man, his friend, me, Firecracker and FC2 all loaded the pieces from two cars into the back door lobby of my building and then into the elevator. We were about half done when a security guard appeared in the doorway, shaking his head.

"He saw you," said the guard, one of several security people with whom I have a good relationship. I looked up and noticed the camera hanging from the ceiling facing the back door.

Busted.

The security manager at the front desk was new, someone I had yet to charm into looking the other way. If he wrote me up, I'd be fined by the condo association board. Minimum $50, I think.

Cub Man and his friend moved their cars around to the front entrance (to avoid being towed). I had to go the front desk to let them in and face the security manager. He read me the riot act (nicely, though) about moving furniture after hours and wasn't too pleased when Cub Man's friend asked if we could borrow the luggage cart by the door.

"Yeah, okay," he said somewhat hesitantly. "So far, I haven't seen anything."

I smiled.

We finished unloading the unit and when we returned the luggage cart, I brought along some Easter candies and a can of soda...with a$20 bill wrapped around it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oops, almost forgot.

The famous Cheese Ball

2 bricks cream cheese (left out to soften)
1 medium-sized bunch of scallions (chopped with a bit of green, too)
2.5 ounces thin-sliced corned beef (chopped)
1 tspn. garlic salt (more or less to taste)

Mix all in large bowl and shape into ball (use a fork or spoon, for God's sake!) Refrigerate for a few hours. Serve with crackers or toasted bread pieces.

A txt from afar

Well, color me surprised?!??!

My cell phone brrrinngg'd last night and it was a text message from Flight Attendant, home from his trip to London. He said my call made his day, he was sorry he missed my call, and he was home watching the Cubs game with a houseful of Cubbies (I'm guessing he meant friends, not the actual team players 'cause they were playing in Los Angeles.)

I thought, wait till he hears about my encounter with the team!! But I'll save that for a face-to-face encounter.

Anyway, back to text messaging... It's a tough way to get to know someone, but a very convenient and inexpensive way if they live far away (FA's in Ft. Lauderdale). He's much better at this text message stuff than I am, but we muddled through, texting back and forth as we sat and watched the same game, rooting for the same team, about a thousand miles apart.

He's flying to LA to watch tomorrow night's game and I am terribly jealous! Oh, how I would love to have the freedom to hop on a plane and go to another city on a whim! Of course, he did offer to take me with him (but I thought that might be pushing things for a first date!)

At 11 o'clock, I crawled into my freshly made bed in my freshly remodeled bedroom and texted that I would watch the remaining innings from bed because it's a school night.

FA wrote back, "Talk 2 ya 2morrow. Very glad you called. Go Cubs Go! G*Nite."

Although he didn't say when he'd be in Chicago again, I had to smile.

Come fly with me

I hope everyone had a safe and fun Easter with lots of chocolate and a lot (or maybe just a little bit) of family time, too! Everything in moderation, right?

Mother Nature rewarded us with a fabulously warm Friday, so I took advantage and threw the top down (I drive a convertible people! don't get weird on me!) and ran some errands while my contractor FINISHED MY ROOM!!! Yep, it's done! Photos of the before and after will be forthcoming.

Friday night, FC2 and I decided to have a mini-girls night out (because it was just the two of us). We had dinner and drinks atPJ Clarke's, a nice "older crowd" establishment that I used to frequent years ago and may have to frequent again. Cute bartender + good jukebox + interesting clientele= one fun and late evening!

I met a flight attendant who is neither female nor gay nor a child- - so far, so good. He lives in Florida but comes to Chicago frequently and is a BIG Cubs fan. He's also run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, so international travel isn't just a job, it's a lifestyle. Hmmn?

When he mentioned that he's off for a flight to London, FC2 piped up with a request for a Harrod's bag and I asked if he could pick up some of my favorite moisturizer. Of course, the consumption of several Stoli-and-7s effectively erased the moisturizer name from my memory. Apparently the flight attendant (FA) asked for both of our phone numbers so he could make the delivery. I say "apparently" because I don't remember the request at all (oops!)

FA gave me his business card before we left, so I called the next night and left a message. We'll see...

Easter Sunday hit hard. Okay, it was probably the Stoli that hit me. How much will I burn in Hell for going to my mother's house on Easter Sunday with a hangover? Thankfully, it was unusually quiet as the family gathered for dinner.

Arriving at my mother's house before the crowd, I presented my mom with a watercolor painting kit. She seemed embarrassed that I remembered her comments about her forgotten talent, so I downplayed the impact of the gift. I told her that the gift is just between us and no one needs to know if she sets up an easel in the yard and paints the flowers in bloom. She could take her time and let her hidden talent re-emerge slowly.

My brother and his family arrived and my sister with her kids, and the noise level grew exponentially. Fortunately, dinner was almost ready so the kids retreated to the kitchen and the adults sat in the dining room and a relative quiet fell over the room.

Everyone must have been pretty hungry because dinner was eaten in almost monk-like silence. Until, that is, my sister-in-law cut into the traditional lamb cake after dinner. Since we were all a freaked out by the Halloween mask face at the front of the cake, she cut from the other end. Instead of one solid loaf, the cake was made from two loaves of yellow cake with frosting in the middle.

"Look! A bunny thong!"

A bridal blast from the past

The envelope arrived the other day, a small yellow square with my full name and address pre-printed in computer type with an anonymous return address in the western suburbs, an address I did not recognize.

Since this looked very much like one of those junk mail pieces that's disguised as a personal letter, I almost threw it away.

Almost.

Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found an invitation to a bridal shower. The guest of honor is a woman with whom I've had no contact for about two years despite the fact that she lives two miles from me. The shower is being given by women I've never met.

The bride and I worked together for a total of one year and that was almost nine years ago. We were friends after that, hitting bars and parties. But that was years ago and our relationship has dwindled to the point that our only contact is the Christmas newsletter that she sends me every year.

(I have a thing about single people sending out newsletters, but that's a post for another time.)

A few months ago, I received a save-the-date card for her wedding. Geez! You can tell she used to be an event planner. I was pretty surprised at that, but it seems like weddings have (for some people, at least) become a reunion of sorts -- a chance to catch up with distant cousins, former coworkers, grammar school classmates and such.

While weddings have become a mob scene, I've always thought the bridal shower was limited to the inner posse, immediate family and closest friends.

I contacted a friend of mine whom I met when we both worked with the bride. Apparently, she received the save-the-date card, too, although she lives out of state. She's trying to plan a trip to Chicago to coincide with the wedding, so I guess they've kept in touch.

Why was I invited? It couldn't be a situation where the bride is trying to collect gifts from everyone she's ever met. Mommy and Daddy are doctors and they've taken the bride and her brother on wonderful family holidays all over the world.

Nope, it's not about money.

Maybe I'm underestimating the importance of our friendship?

Close, personal friends...or not

There are people out there, perhaps you're one of them, who watch reality TV shows and construct imaginary personal relationships with the characters on the show. They want to ask them, "Why did you sleep with so-and-so?" or "I can't believe you said that?!"

You are absolutely certain that the feeling is mutual and these characters are your best friends. You'd meet for coffee or a beer after work, sharing sob stories of shitty love lives. You'd go shopping together, know their kids' names and share the latest new restaurant or club info.

So, here I am, talking about travel in Australia with Ryan Dempster. The red-haired Cubs pitcher tells me what cities he's seen and where he went diving and bungee-jumping. I ask him if he had time to climb the Sydney Harbor Bridge (he did).

Suddenly, he sticks out his hand, "Hi, I'm Ryan."

"Oh, geez. Um, yeah, hi, I'm ..."

I'm one of those...with the Cubs.

Having survived the bitter cold for the Cubs' home opener on Friday, and the wedding in North Carolina on Saturday, I joined Firecracker, Cat and FC2 for Sunday's series finale with the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals.

After the Cubs finished trashing the Cardinals to open the Wrigley Field season, several of the players walked down the street to one of the local watering holes. Firecracker and I stood outside the park, amazed that these local celebrities would WALK! among the crowds! to a public bar!

"Wanna get a drink?" I asked Firecracker, knowing full well the answer.

That's how we met the boys.

La Vie en Rose

The universe has been sending me signals today. Does that ever happen to you?
Allow me to explain:

A few months ago, the movie "French Kiss" was on cable (and I watched it) for the umpteenth time. It's got wonderful scenes of France and several songs in French (listen here), including actor Kevin Kline singing "La Mer (The Sea)" in French! Okay, he won't win any Grammy awards. Who knew he could sing, let alone in French?!

After watching the movie, I decided that I absolutely HAD to have the soundtrack. On the hunt over the next few weeks, I swept into every music store I passed (including one in NY with Firecracker), but no luck.

DUH! I got online at Amazon.com and found it, but the brain surgeons at Amazon found a way to screw up my credit card purchase several times over the course of a week or two, so I cancelled the order.

Not to be daunted, I logged into BestBuy.com and found the soundtrack and instantly ordered it. And then the waiting game...

Yesterday, the CD arrived, but I was too busy at home to listen to it. I brought it to work and decided that we would have French music at my German office. (I've practically memorized it by now, but no, I can't sing along...yet.)

On the way to the office this morning, I grabbed my latest travel magazine and the cover story was on Provence (in the south of France). Descriptions of the beach at St. Tropez, the magnificent cheeses and the gorgeous scenery inspired me to daydream about my annual birthday trip.

For some reason, I was trying to think of the French word for "please." After four years of high school French and one year in college, I was coming up blank. This was going to bug me!

When I got to work, I discovered (or remembered actually) that one of my coworkers is on vacation in Paris at this very moment!

I logged in and found a French-English dictionary online. Of course, the moment I called up the website, I remembered what I forgot.

Can someone tell me, s'il vous plait, how the weather is in the City of Lights in November??

Dinner with the King

The Lion King saga continues....I received an email from Lion King the other day, after I responded that we could be friends and dinner with a friend would be nice.

He wrote in all caps: OUR GATHERING AS FRIENDS. (Yeah, like I didn't remember that part.)

He suggested dinner at a Tai restaurant (his spelling- -Yes, I'm anal that way!). The dinner won't be until mid April, though, because he knows that I'm crazy busy this weekend.

How busy?

How's this: on Friday, I will be attending the Cubs home opener against the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals with FC2.

Afterwards, we will meet Firecracker for drinks somewhere in Wrigleyville. Unfortunately, I have to be home ridiculously early because on Saturday morning, I fly down to North Carolina for my friend's wedding. I'll fly back on Sunday afternoon and meet up with the aforementioned gang for Sunday night's ESPN-televised Cubs game.

Yup, that's crazy busy!

Everybody please say a little prayer that none of my flights are delayed. If the arrival is delayed more than 1 or 2 hours, I'll miss the wedding. If the return is delayed the same amount of time, I'll miss the beginning of the Cubs game.

Oh, and while I'm splitting my weekend between Wrigley Field and North Carolina, my contractor will be installing my Brazilian Koa (tigerwood) floor! FINALLY!!!

I get tired just thinking about it.

Wanted: real fans

As most of you know, I'm a Cubs fan.

But unlike most Cubs fans, I do not hate the White Sox. Their fans? Maybe. But not the team. In fact, I was very happy for the South Side team when they won the World Series last year.

Which brings me to this year and the Sox' season-opening series against the Cleveland Indians. All the pomp and circumstance, the wild and crazy cheering warmed the night as White Sox fans showed up in droves for the season opening festivities which included the unveiling of the 2005 World Series championship banner.

Sox win! Sox win! Sox win (after a 3-hour rain delay)!

Attendance: 38,802.

Today, the White Sox received their championship rings and gave out replicas of said rings to the first 20,000 fans who showed up. From what I hear, the ring ceremony was the envy of remote kingdoms across the globe.

Sox lose! Sox lose! Sox lose.

Attendance: 37,591.

Tomorrow, the White Sox will wrap up the series with the Indians at The Cell. The Sox will finish their first home series as the defending champions, handing out trophy replicas to the first 20,000 faithful to go through the turnstiles. The chest-pounding will continue for one more day in front of the no-longer-suffering White Sox fans!

Here's the sad but true kicker...



THERE ARE STILL TICKETS AVAILABLE!

Friends...with no benefits

After a furious volley of emails, Lion King and I have decided that we'll be friends and have dinner some time. Dinner - - and nothing else.

I know what you're thinking, this could be trouble. I've been down this road before and the potholes are numerous. It starts out innocently enough with a lunch or dinner; later on, a dinner is followed by drinks; another dinner is followed by a whole slew of drinks and before you know it, you're making out in the corner of a dark bar.

THIS IS NOT GOING THERE.

Lion King even mentioned that we wouldn't work out as a couple anyway because of the whole Cubs/Cardinals business. This rang true when he pulled the holier-than-thou attitude that marks a true rat-bastard Cardinal fan.

There is a silver lining to this cloud, though. Although this is not supposed to be a dating situation, it might actually have the after-effects of one because, as they say, "nothing gets you a date like having a date."

I'll keep you posted.

The other shoe has dropped

Well, Firecracker must have been right. When I voiced my surprise that Lion King didn't send me an email thanking me for Friday evening's entertainment, she mentioned that maybe he didn't have my email at home.

Yesterday I received a thank you email from Lion King with the following:

"(LOL) I know because I'm one of those smokers you would never date me, however, would you consider us going out to dinner some time?"

AARRGGHH!!! What part of "I don't date smokers" doesn't he understand??? And what's with the LOL??? Does he think I'm joking??

Even if he didn't smoke, there are other issues, namely: he lives about an hour away so he's GU (geographically undesirable) plus he owns FOUR cats! Hey, I love animals just as much as anyone, but a single guy that owns four cats is pretty far down the road toward crazy-hood!

I know what you're thinking...we could go to dinner as friends.

As many women know, it's not possible to go for a platonic dinner with a guy who's really "into you." You try to be friendly and have a nice time, but pretty soon he's calling all the time, finding ways to "accidentally" run into you, emailing you every little mildly interesting junk mail he's ever received - - anything to keep in contact with you.

Oh, and there's the whole volleyball thing. Whatever happens here will definitely end up as post-game fodder for the team (at least I think so).

Wingman schwingman

How to Woo a Woman (without actually saying the words) by Lion King:

Step 1: Accept her invitation with the (false) premise that you will help her meet other men.
Step 2: Call several times enroute to confirm arrival time.
Step 3: Engage her friends in conversation upon arrival. Give "intended" a short hug hello.
Step 4: Compliment her on her outfit.
Step 5: When she says something funny, laugh appropriately and place your hand on her arm.
Step 6: Only leave her side three times throughout evening (to smoke outside).
Step 7: Ask numerous questions about her likes and dislikes, tilting your head close to hers because the music is too loud.
Step 8: Pretending to be a wingman, wonder aloud why she isn't being asked out on dates all the time.
Step 9: When friends get up to mingle, immediately find a waitress to buy a round for just the two of you.
Step 10: Don't look away from the table at any time (okay, except for when that cheerleader character started throwing her long blond hair around).

And then....


NOTHING!!

Step 11: Leave at an appropriate hour, saying goodbye to "intended" with nothing more than a friendly hug and a "thanks for the invite."