After a short, but much-needed snooze, I awoke blurry eyed and looked out the window to see water and an emerging skyline. Sydney!! My heart started to race and I rubbed my eyes and looked for the icons of the Australian city, the Opera House and the Bridge. Confused, I didn't recognize any buildings and as I slowly became more awake, I realized my flight had not carried me around the world, but just across to the East Coast and it was New York's skyline outside my window.
That was my first and last moment of disappointment during my weekend in New York with Firecracker.
Escargot (thanks to Firecracker for introducing me to new gourmet opportunity), champagne, French food and friendly waves, honks and smiles from random New York men got the weekend off to a rousing start.
New and wonderful foods - - check!
After a Saturday morning breakfast of carbs and Starbucks, we wrestled through the Times Square crowds (damned tourists!!!) to the Times Square info booth where we purchased matinee tickets to "Avenue Q," billed as an adult Sesame Street. Hmmn?!?!
Tickets to Broadway show - - check!
Central Park was next on our list for Saturday afternoon activities. We strolled over hills and past picturesque ponds, stopping at a carousel to sip our teas and soak in the atmosphere that most locals probably take for granted.
Although the weather was cooperating, time was not. Our matinee time was approaching - - not quickly- - but we didn't want to rush our excursion back to the hotel. So, at 76th Street we said goodbye to Central Park and turned onto Central Park West for the trip "home."
Paramount Pictures was working on some movie scenes on the West Side so we stopped to gape, but since we didn't recognize any movie stars, we kept walking. Past Tavern on the Green, through Columbus Circle (resisting the opportunity to stop and shop), and past a long line of wannabees waiting in the cold for a chance to be the next "Top Model."
In a very Carrie Bradshow-ish move, I wore only 3-inch heels during my stay in the Big Apple (and my lower back and calves are screaming at me for it)!
Spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Central Park, looking as stylish as possible - - check!
Felt-faced characters with human arms shoved up their rumps sang songs about racism and homosexuality and actually "got it on" at one point during "Avenue Q." What a unique, funny and bizarre show made that much better by the drinks we had before the show started.
My favorite characters were the Bad Idea Bears. When you don't have much money, but buy a case of beer instead of paying the phone bill - - blame the Bad Idea Bears. I'm all over that!!! Where were these guys when I was getting married?!?! That was TOTALLY their idea!
But I digress...
After the show, Firecracker and I did a bit of unsuccessful shopping and headed back to the hotel empty-handed. Exhausted from the hike in Central Park and the show, Firecracker started to doze off.
NO!!!!!! It was my last night in New York (I said rather dramatically, as if I were a lifelong Manhattanite being exiled to Kansas City!) She stirred and soon we were making our way to a quaint little Italian restaurant not too far away.
Four courses of Italian food with wine accompaniments and music from a three-piece jazz band rekindled our adventurous spirit. Add to that the plan to join Firecracker's second-cousin and his roommate for drinks and we were ready to rock.
Firecracker and I were treated to probably the best evening either of us have had in months! And I DO mean treated! Wonderful gentlemen that they are, Cuz'n and his roommate paid for taxis, cover charges and drinks all evening! We had to argue with them to be allowed to buy a round! Too bad they were 1) family, and 2) in their mid 20s!
At one point in the evening, I was approached by a short, curly-haired guy who wanted to ask us some questions. Apparently, he was representing two unseen friends who wanted to dance with us. The deal, as offered, was that if I answered the questions correctly, the mystery friends would buy us a drink. If not, we had to dance with them for three songs.
How's YOUR math? Um, ONE drink or THREE dances?!?!? I don't think so (I may have been drinking, but I'm not stupid.) My curiousity got the best of me and I had to know the questions.
Dead brain cells prevent me from remembering the first question (which I guess I actually got right), but the second one was "What's the capital of Montana?"
"Helena."
"Um, okay. I have a tissue in my pocket and if I fold it up, how many times can I fold it?
"Well, if it's square, I think you can only fold it eight times."
Since we didn't technically have a deal, I got screwed out of a free drink. Yeah, whatever. I smiled, shook my head and walked by to our gang.
Totally inappropriate guys trying to pick us up - - check!
The taxi dropped us off at our hotel and both Firecracker and I were shocked to discover that was 4:15 in the blessed AM!?!?!? And we were both flying home later that day!
Clubbing till all hours in Greenwich Village - - check!
I'll have to get to work on a new list of "Things to Do" for the next trip - - Arizona!!! for Spring Training in 39 days!!!
Monday, January 23, 2006
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Remodeling plan III: the estimates
I received Cub Man's estimate and I'm glad I sat down before reading it.
$300 for painting a bunch of cubes?!?!?!? Is he Rembrandt or what? Maybe he's painting them with his toes.
That's just the cosmetic part of the quote. There's also the actual construction and, of course, the materials. His estimate was more than my mortgage payment plus assessments!
I thought he stopped screwing me years ago! Is he such a jerk that he's going to let his financial situation get in the way of our friendship? (At least I THOUGHT we were friends!)
My disappointment in his character weighed heavy on me, but at the same time, it didn't ring true. I shook my head, knowing there was something missing here. It would be out of character for him to try to cheat me (or anyone, for that matter).
But I know enough to know what I don't know, so like any good consumer, I got a second opinion.
With fortuitous timing, my contractor (Polish Boy) called and we talked about the proposed storage unit. I gave him the specifics that Cub Man had offered (materials used, type of joints, etc.) and asked him for a ballpark figure.
I breathed a sigh of relief that my faith in mankind hadn't been misplaced. PB would charge me more than Cub Man to manufacture the same cabinet.
PB's estimate for the floor installation, closet replacement, electrical work and wall painting arrived the following day.
Sometimes I think there's a special demon that periodically steps in and fucks up my seemingly simple plans. My condo complex was designed in the mid 40s by an architect who had apparently gone off his medications. His insanity was going to cost me money. No doubt about it.
Examples of his eccentricities:
Although the estimate came in under my worst-case scenario, I think I'll hold off on the celebration as I anticipate hiccups in the remodeling process.
I'll sign the contracts with PB next week and hand over a fistful of $$ so we can get started.
Cub Man, however, has not responded to my offer to take him up on his estimate provided it includes delivery. We'll see where that goes.
$300 for painting a bunch of cubes?!?!?!? Is he Rembrandt or what? Maybe he's painting them with his toes.
That's just the cosmetic part of the quote. There's also the actual construction and, of course, the materials. His estimate was more than my mortgage payment plus assessments!
I thought he stopped screwing me years ago! Is he such a jerk that he's going to let his financial situation get in the way of our friendship? (At least I THOUGHT we were friends!)
My disappointment in his character weighed heavy on me, but at the same time, it didn't ring true. I shook my head, knowing there was something missing here. It would be out of character for him to try to cheat me (or anyone, for that matter).
But I know enough to know what I don't know, so like any good consumer, I got a second opinion.
With fortuitous timing, my contractor (Polish Boy) called and we talked about the proposed storage unit. I gave him the specifics that Cub Man had offered (materials used, type of joints, etc.) and asked him for a ballpark figure.
I breathed a sigh of relief that my faith in mankind hadn't been misplaced. PB would charge me more than Cub Man to manufacture the same cabinet.
PB's estimate for the floor installation, closet replacement, electrical work and wall painting arrived the following day.
Sometimes I think there's a special demon that periodically steps in and fucks up my seemingly simple plans. My condo complex was designed in the mid 40s by an architect who had apparently gone off his medications. His insanity was going to cost me money. No doubt about it.
Examples of his eccentricities:
- The opening for my bedroom closet is not standard height nor is it standard width (resulting in my need for CUSTOM-MADE closet doors). If it were the contents of my closet that needed to be custom made, I could handle that.
- My closet had no lighting when I moved in (yep, no lights in the closet), so I had an electrician do a shitty makeshift job. PB will fix this so it no longer looks like Section 8 housing.
- My bathroom door is only 26 inches wide so another custom job will be required when I scrape together enough cash to remodel my bathroom.
- Another bathroom gem that surprised even PB: there is a heat vent under the sink, inside the wood vanity cabinet. I must say that it's an unexpected bonus to reach under the cabinet for body lotion only to receive a hot oil treatment.
Although the estimate came in under my worst-case scenario, I think I'll hold off on the celebration as I anticipate hiccups in the remodeling process.
I'll sign the contracts with PB next week and hand over a fistful of $$ so we can get started.
Cub Man, however, has not responded to my offer to take him up on his estimate provided it includes delivery. We'll see where that goes.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Perpendicular lives
Safe to say that my meeting with Cub Man didn't go as well as I'd hoped.
Some background: He and I dated for six months about six years ago. (His friends thought we might get married, but that's another story.) I spoke to him very briefly at a Cubs game this summer, but other than that, we haven't spoken in a few years although we've always been cordial. He's the only person I know that makes furniture, so I contacted him when I couldn't find the storage unit that I envisioned.
First off, I got lost going out to the northwest suburbs. I've traveled all over the world, I can find the f-ing restaurant!!! When I finally arrived, I was not a happy camper. My attitude turned what could have been a pleasant welcome hug from Cub Man into an awkward moment.
The Writer: bad attitude = -2 points
In the restaurant bar, I pulled out the room measurements that he requested and we discussed the storage unit for a while. It wasn't all business, though, as Cub Man wanted to catch up with me, find out what's been going on in my life.
This is where it got uncomfortable, for reasons that became apparent later.
Well, much of 2005 was spent traveling to two weddings in Europe plus a Cubs game in New York, a bridal shower in New Jersey, a college graduation in Virginia and, of course, my annual birthday trip.
The Writer: upbeat tales of travel experience = +10 points
I didn't tell him about all of these trips, just a few, glossing over most of the details. My brain short-circuited when my stomach started to rumble and suddenly the conversation turned to food. I hardly noticed Cub Man's hesitation when we decided to finish our drinks and find a table for dinner.
Our restaurant also has a city location which I've frequented because they have very good steaks. Food is one of my favorite conversation topics, especially when I'm hungry. I started to talk about another steak place in the south suburbs that's really great, but I didn't think Cub Man had heard of it. I turned to him and was faced with a strange expression that I couldn't place.
"We've been there," he said. Apparently, early in our "relationship," we had dinner at the aforementioned steakhouse. Cub Man remembered the cabin-like building off the highway, our table next to the fireplace and the smoky cabernet sauvignon that quickly became "our wine." He still buys that wine occasionally.
Geez! I thought date memorization was totally a girl thing!
Cub Man: detailed memory of a romantic evening= +20 points
Trying to avoid falling into the "remember when" hole, I asked about Cub Man's family. He has a son and a daughter (both teenagers now.) It soon became apparent that I didn't remember his daughter's name (probably because I mispronounced it). Oops!
The Writer: insensitive name boo-boo= -10 points
I felt bad about that blunder for the rest of the evening until it occurred to me (the next morning) that I had only met his children ONE TIME and that was six years ago!
In an attempt to close the gap between his experience with his children and my lack thereof, I related a story about one of my sister's kids.
"That's the sister that's a nurse, right?" Cub Man asked.
Did he always have this good a memory??
Cub Man: another memory muscle flex= +5 points
Back to the reason for our meeting...
Cub Man mentioned that it's good for me and bad for him that he has time to work on this project for me. Hmmn??
For the third time in four years, Cub Man is unemployed. Mortgage and child-support payments loom large for him. Add to that the fact that he's on the north side of 50 and it's not a good situation.
He's even started doing some handyman jobs around his neighborhood. He insisted I take a few of the business cards he printed up for this. I glanced at the cards (he still lives in the same townhouse).
Cub Man: trying to make the best of a pitiful financial situation= +50 points
Needless to say, I paid for dinner. A quick and innocent kiss goodnight and a promise of a quick estimate brought to a close an evening I'd sooner forget.
So let's check the score:
The Writer (-2 points)-- insensitive, rich bitch flaunting domestic and international travel, hiring people to remodel a room.
Cub Man (+75 points)-- thoughtful in remembering events and people, suffering financial low again, fixing screen doors and caulking tubs for senior citizens.
Is there a "slaughter rule" in dealing with exes??
Some background: He and I dated for six months about six years ago. (His friends thought we might get married, but that's another story.) I spoke to him very briefly at a Cubs game this summer, but other than that, we haven't spoken in a few years although we've always been cordial. He's the only person I know that makes furniture, so I contacted him when I couldn't find the storage unit that I envisioned.
First off, I got lost going out to the northwest suburbs. I've traveled all over the world, I can find the f-ing restaurant!!! When I finally arrived, I was not a happy camper. My attitude turned what could have been a pleasant welcome hug from Cub Man into an awkward moment.
The Writer: bad attitude = -2 points
In the restaurant bar, I pulled out the room measurements that he requested and we discussed the storage unit for a while. It wasn't all business, though, as Cub Man wanted to catch up with me, find out what's been going on in my life.
This is where it got uncomfortable, for reasons that became apparent later.
Well, much of 2005 was spent traveling to two weddings in Europe plus a Cubs game in New York, a bridal shower in New Jersey, a college graduation in Virginia and, of course, my annual birthday trip.
The Writer: upbeat tales of travel experience = +10 points
I didn't tell him about all of these trips, just a few, glossing over most of the details. My brain short-circuited when my stomach started to rumble and suddenly the conversation turned to food. I hardly noticed Cub Man's hesitation when we decided to finish our drinks and find a table for dinner.
Our restaurant also has a city location which I've frequented because they have very good steaks. Food is one of my favorite conversation topics, especially when I'm hungry. I started to talk about another steak place in the south suburbs that's really great, but I didn't think Cub Man had heard of it. I turned to him and was faced with a strange expression that I couldn't place.
"We've been there," he said. Apparently, early in our "relationship," we had dinner at the aforementioned steakhouse. Cub Man remembered the cabin-like building off the highway, our table next to the fireplace and the smoky cabernet sauvignon that quickly became "our wine." He still buys that wine occasionally.
Geez! I thought date memorization was totally a girl thing!
Cub Man: detailed memory of a romantic evening= +20 points
Trying to avoid falling into the "remember when" hole, I asked about Cub Man's family. He has a son and a daughter (both teenagers now.) It soon became apparent that I didn't remember his daughter's name (probably because I mispronounced it). Oops!
The Writer: insensitive name boo-boo= -10 points
I felt bad about that blunder for the rest of the evening until it occurred to me (the next morning) that I had only met his children ONE TIME and that was six years ago!
In an attempt to close the gap between his experience with his children and my lack thereof, I related a story about one of my sister's kids.
"That's the sister that's a nurse, right?" Cub Man asked.
Did he always have this good a memory??
Cub Man: another memory muscle flex= +5 points
Back to the reason for our meeting...
Cub Man mentioned that it's good for me and bad for him that he has time to work on this project for me. Hmmn??
For the third time in four years, Cub Man is unemployed. Mortgage and child-support payments loom large for him. Add to that the fact that he's on the north side of 50 and it's not a good situation.
He's even started doing some handyman jobs around his neighborhood. He insisted I take a few of the business cards he printed up for this. I glanced at the cards (he still lives in the same townhouse).
Cub Man: trying to make the best of a pitiful financial situation= +50 points
Needless to say, I paid for dinner. A quick and innocent kiss goodnight and a promise of a quick estimate brought to a close an evening I'd sooner forget.
So let's check the score:
The Writer (-2 points)-- insensitive, rich bitch flaunting domestic and international travel, hiring people to remodel a room.
Cub Man (+75 points)-- thoughtful in remembering events and people, suffering financial low again, fixing screen doors and caulking tubs for senior citizens.
Is there a "slaughter rule" in dealing with exes??
Friday, January 13, 2006
Wisdom for the day
In light of the fact that I'm meeting with Cub Man at a restaurant tonight, I wasn't sure how to approach the whole thing. Friendly? Business-like? Flirty? (maybe get a discount?)
My colleague offered this advice:
"It is every woman's job, when meeting with an ex, to look HOT! Great-ass pants, everything! It's your DUTY!."
Okay. Then I have to get changed.
My colleague offered this advice:
"It is every woman's job, when meeting with an ex, to look HOT! Great-ass pants, everything! It's your DUTY!."
Okay. Then I have to get changed.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Remodeling plan II: The appraisal
Just when I thought I was all grown up, owning my own condo and actually paying people to paint, re-wire and otherwise improve my home, I find out that I'm really just a naive little girl, holding out a fistfull of money and hoping for the best.
That was then, this is now. Here's hoping things have changed. (I'm crossing my fingers here.)
My contractor, Polish Boy, came over last night to measure my room, show me paint samples and discuss all the aspects of transforming my ho-hum bedroom into a sun-splashed beach budoir!
When I bought the place three years ago, I paid a contractor (thief #1) to completely remodel my kitchen and an electrician (thief #2) to install lights in my closets. Yep, INSTALL LIGHTS IN MY CLOSETS. What did the former tenants do, hold up candles to choose their attire? The original builder from the 1940s designed the building with no light source in the closets! (Personally, I think someone should dig him up and shoot him!)
Anyway, thief #2 left a very unsightly external outlet box and covered wire leading from the wall behind my bed to the closet. Yuck! Polish Boy shook his head and asked if I wanted him to fix that.
Hmmnn...
PB also noted that the closet has nonstandard doors that were hung incorrectly, resulting in a 4-inch gap at the end of the frame. The frame itself is steel with, for some crazy reason, a SECOND frame inside it!
Re-wire the outlet + remove second closet frame + replace closet doors + + + AARRGGHH!!! I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears to shut out the cash register ringing in my head. The closet was an afterthought. An expensive one, I'm afraid.
The main job is removing the icky gray carpeting and replacing it with a beautiful bamboo hardwood floor and repainting the white walls a sunny yellow with white trim. Sounds wonderful, but how long till I get to see my dream turn into a reality??
PB said all the abovementioned work can be completed in just four days - - at most. That's the best news I've heard all day!
As for the furniture, I faxed my sketch of the storage unit to my ex-boyfriend, Cub Man. He said it looks do-able and we should talk about it over dinner.
Uh-oh!
I'm going to meet with him (only because I'm pretty particular about what goes in my bedroom...I know, I know, insert joke here). We are definitely keeping it all business. I'm thinking that's his plan too, since he didn't offer to deliver the finished item.
Next up: estimate from PB and planning meeting with Cub Man.
That was then, this is now. Here's hoping things have changed. (I'm crossing my fingers here.)
My contractor, Polish Boy, came over last night to measure my room, show me paint samples and discuss all the aspects of transforming my ho-hum bedroom into a sun-splashed beach budoir!
When I bought the place three years ago, I paid a contractor (thief #1) to completely remodel my kitchen and an electrician (thief #2) to install lights in my closets. Yep, INSTALL LIGHTS IN MY CLOSETS. What did the former tenants do, hold up candles to choose their attire? The original builder from the 1940s designed the building with no light source in the closets! (Personally, I think someone should dig him up and shoot him!)
Anyway, thief #2 left a very unsightly external outlet box and covered wire leading from the wall behind my bed to the closet. Yuck! Polish Boy shook his head and asked if I wanted him to fix that.
Hmmnn...
PB also noted that the closet has nonstandard doors that were hung incorrectly, resulting in a 4-inch gap at the end of the frame. The frame itself is steel with, for some crazy reason, a SECOND frame inside it!
Re-wire the outlet + remove second closet frame + replace closet doors + + + AARRGGHH!!! I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears to shut out the cash register ringing in my head. The closet was an afterthought. An expensive one, I'm afraid.
The main job is removing the icky gray carpeting and replacing it with a beautiful bamboo hardwood floor and repainting the white walls a sunny yellow with white trim. Sounds wonderful, but how long till I get to see my dream turn into a reality??
PB said all the abovementioned work can be completed in just four days - - at most. That's the best news I've heard all day!
As for the furniture, I faxed my sketch of the storage unit to my ex-boyfriend, Cub Man. He said it looks do-able and we should talk about it over dinner.
Uh-oh!
I'm going to meet with him (only because I'm pretty particular about what goes in my bedroom...I know, I know, insert joke here). We are definitely keeping it all business. I'm thinking that's his plan too, since he didn't offer to deliver the finished item.
Next up: estimate from PB and planning meeting with Cub Man.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Remodeling plan I
I'm very good at making grand plans. In fact, I've been planning to remodel the 1950s-era bathroom in my condo for the entire three years that I've lived there. Have I even gone so far as to secure an estimate?
Nope.
After another evening of HGTV (Home and Garden Television, for those of you in the Dark Ages), I decided that I could start the re-do season with a nice master bedroom remodel. Maybe it's the memory of the gorgeous beaches of Australia that's given me the idea of a beach-themed room. I'm talking about sunny yellow walls and bamboo hardwood floors (still thinking exotic) and a white wood combo drawers-and-cubes storage unit.
As I said, I'm VERY good at making plans. the actual DOING it part is what scares me.
But no longer!
Tonight I have an appointment with a contractor who will come to my place, measure my bedroom, bring color samples and discuss the particulars of the remodeling job.
I've even gone so far as to fax a sketch of my would-be storage unit to an ex-boyfriend who makes furniture (I know, probably NOT a good idea to involve him in ANYTHING that has to do with my bedroom). This is a business proposition, nothing more. Of course, I'll know if it's nothing more to him based on what he charges me.
Actually, I'm getting pretty excited about the whole new-look thing. Maybe a new look in my bedroom will result in new activity???
Nope.
After another evening of HGTV (Home and Garden Television, for those of you in the Dark Ages), I decided that I could start the re-do season with a nice master bedroom remodel. Maybe it's the memory of the gorgeous beaches of Australia that's given me the idea of a beach-themed room. I'm talking about sunny yellow walls and bamboo hardwood floors (still thinking exotic) and a white wood combo drawers-and-cubes storage unit.
As I said, I'm VERY good at making plans. the actual DOING it part is what scares me.
But no longer!
Tonight I have an appointment with a contractor who will come to my place, measure my bedroom, bring color samples and discuss the particulars of the remodeling job.
I've even gone so far as to fax a sketch of my would-be storage unit to an ex-boyfriend who makes furniture (I know, probably NOT a good idea to involve him in ANYTHING that has to do with my bedroom). This is a business proposition, nothing more. Of course, I'll know if it's nothing more to him based on what he charges me.
Actually, I'm getting pretty excited about the whole new-look thing. Maybe a new look in my bedroom will result in new activity???
Friday, January 06, 2006
Happy Friday!
Is it so bad that my Christmas tree is still up? How about the fact that sparkly Christmas cards still line my windowsill and rolls of wrapping paper litter the living room floor?
Okay, so I've been a little busy.
In a show of uncharacteristic persistence, I have maintained my three workouts-a-week schedule for five weeks now! I'm pretty impressed with myself for that alone. I don't think I've seen much of a difference, but I was complimented on my ass last night, so I could be wrong.
Speaking of last night, I attended an organizational meeting for a charity function that will be in February. About seven years ago, "newly single" me participated in the group's bachelor/bachelorette auction and since then, I've worked with a subcommittee to organize the live auction.
Earlier in the week, I got a call from Beverly Girl, a former colleague who's in town for a few days. Turns out, Baskerville, another former colleague, is also in town and wanted to see everyone. Let the party begin!
Baskerville is getting married in April to a wonderful German fellow. The wedding will take place not in Chicago, not in Germany, and not even in Tennessee (where Baskerville is from), but in North Carolina!
So, another trip to plan!
Speaking of trips, my mother has decided that she wants to go to Croatia...and she wants me to go with her! This is interesting because one of my brothers had written me a letter (I don't even want to get into THAT since I see him regularly) telling me that I should surprise my mom with a trip to Croatia.
My mother got the idea independently of my brother's letter. Turns out, her brother is going on vacation to Croatia and Ireland with his wife. With the idea firmly planted in my mother's head, I suggested we go in September, when the prices to Europe are a bit cheaper.
Why Croatia? My mother's parents were born there and although she's been to Croatia, my mother never visited the island off Croatia that is her parent's birthplace.
So let's review...I'm planning trips to New York this month, Arizona in March, North Carolina in April, Croatia in September and for my annual birthday trip in November, hmmnn?!?!?!
And it's only the first week of the year!
Okay, so I've been a little busy.
In a show of uncharacteristic persistence, I have maintained my three workouts-a-week schedule for five weeks now! I'm pretty impressed with myself for that alone. I don't think I've seen much of a difference, but I was complimented on my ass last night, so I could be wrong.
Speaking of last night, I attended an organizational meeting for a charity function that will be in February. About seven years ago, "newly single" me participated in the group's bachelor/bachelorette auction and since then, I've worked with a subcommittee to organize the live auction.
Earlier in the week, I got a call from Beverly Girl, a former colleague who's in town for a few days. Turns out, Baskerville, another former colleague, is also in town and wanted to see everyone. Let the party begin!
Baskerville is getting married in April to a wonderful German fellow. The wedding will take place not in Chicago, not in Germany, and not even in Tennessee (where Baskerville is from), but in North Carolina!
So, another trip to plan!
Speaking of trips, my mother has decided that she wants to go to Croatia...and she wants me to go with her! This is interesting because one of my brothers had written me a letter (I don't even want to get into THAT since I see him regularly) telling me that I should surprise my mom with a trip to Croatia.
My mother got the idea independently of my brother's letter. Turns out, her brother is going on vacation to Croatia and Ireland with his wife. With the idea firmly planted in my mother's head, I suggested we go in September, when the prices to Europe are a bit cheaper.
Why Croatia? My mother's parents were born there and although she's been to Croatia, my mother never visited the island off Croatia that is her parent's birthplace.
So let's review...I'm planning trips to New York this month, Arizona in March, North Carolina in April, Croatia in September and for my annual birthday trip in November, hmmnn?!?!?!
And it's only the first week of the year!
Friday, December 30, 2005
Five weird habits
I was tagged by Violet for my five of my weird habits, so here goes!
1. No one can help me put up my Christmas tree because it has to be JUST SO. The lights have to be specialty lights, no plain bulbs for me. (It's my father's tradition). The ornaments have to be hung so they have room to swing from the branch. If any ornaments are too big and end up jammed against a branch, they are moved to another location or I shorten the hook so they can swing.
2. I never leave the house without at least SOME makeup. Okay, there is one caveat. I often go without makeup in Australia but only after I've gotten a good tan.
3. For the past five years, I've collected the Cubs schedule magnets, put them on my refrigerator and then kept track of the team's wins and losses, even circling the games I've attended in person.
4. I always make my grilled cheese sandwiches with a bit of oregano on the cheese. I learned this when I was a child as my mom used to make them like this. Of course, now she denies ever making grilled cheese sandwiches like this.
5. I collect matchbooks, but only of places I have actually been! (so don't try to send me some of yours!). Thing is, I don't smoke and rarely light candles so they're sitting in jars in my kitchen cabinet. Is this weird?
1. No one can help me put up my Christmas tree because it has to be JUST SO. The lights have to be specialty lights, no plain bulbs for me. (It's my father's tradition). The ornaments have to be hung so they have room to swing from the branch. If any ornaments are too big and end up jammed against a branch, they are moved to another location or I shorten the hook so they can swing.
2. I never leave the house without at least SOME makeup. Okay, there is one caveat. I often go without makeup in Australia but only after I've gotten a good tan.
3. For the past five years, I've collected the Cubs schedule magnets, put them on my refrigerator and then kept track of the team's wins and losses, even circling the games I've attended in person.
4. I always make my grilled cheese sandwiches with a bit of oregano on the cheese. I learned this when I was a child as my mom used to make them like this. Of course, now she denies ever making grilled cheese sandwiches like this.
5. I collect matchbooks, but only of places I have actually been! (so don't try to send me some of yours!). Thing is, I don't smoke and rarely light candles so they're sitting in jars in my kitchen cabinet. Is this weird?
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Highlights of Christmas 2005
- receiving a Christmas card from a colleague in London with a photo of his beautiful blue-eyed baby boy!
- a surprise card from a friend who moved to China 2 years ago with news that she'll be in town for a visit sometime this summer!
- finding out that not one, two or three, but FOUR PEOPLE I know have gotten engaged!! (and not to each other).
- seeing several of my brothers (and one sister-in-law) wearing clothes I gave them on Christmas Day.
- quote of the day from my 2 1/2-year-old niece, "I forgot to grow up." Geez! Can I borrow that?
- watching the Bears thump the Packers to win the division and a playoff bye. Go Bears!
- curling up on the sofa in front of my Christmas tree in my new Christmas-themed flannel jammies for a cup of green tea and cookies (thanks Mom!)
- sleeping in on Monday!!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Put your hands on me
Ahhh! As in spaaaahhh services. What a great gift!
My 70-something mother, who still believes that gift certificates expire, insisted that we use our spa service gift certificates before the year's end. I made appointments for her to have a manicure, facial and makeup application and for a massage and manicure for me.
If this were a mechanic's garage, we'd be coming in for an overhaul...okay, maybe just a tune-up.
I kept my mother busy chatting while we changed into thick, plush terry robes for our services. Robe? for a manicure, facial and makeup?? questioned my mom. I tried to reassure her and tell her that it's not like we'd be heading into the mall for some window-shopping between treatments.
My mom is pretty small in stature, a fact brought home to me when I saw her tottling around in her robe and rubber flipflops. Suddenly our positions had flipped and I was worried about her. Will she like her manicurist? She's never had a facial and she's got sensitive skin! Will she remember to tell the makeup artist that she's allergic to mascara??
With an uneasy smile, she waved and was lead away to her manicure while they put me in a "quiet room" to wait for my massage. They should call it the "nap room" because it was lined with daybeds, each equipped with huge rolled pillows and a fringed throw blanket. I napped for an unknown amount of time, occasionally hearing other clients enter and leave, including, surprisingly, one male spa-goer.
A dark-haired man with a strong eastern European accent soon arrived and called for me to follow him. I thought he was an assistant, but NO! he was my massage therapist. Standing there clad only in a robe, in a small, darkly lit room alone with a man and a bed - - okay, it was a table- - how would this work exactly??
We decided that he would work on the back of the body (his phrasing) so as to concentrate on my sore back and shoulders instead of a full body massage. That's fine, I really wasn't looking forward to some strange fellow (read: not cute) massaging "the front of my body."
Laying on my stomach and putting my face into what seemed to be a small, padded toilet seat, I tried to relax and not laugh as my cheeks got squished and pushed up into my eyeballs with each deep rub.
At one point, my masseur imbedded both thumbs at the base of my cranium and pushed. I'm imagining my head popping off and rolling on the floor like a champagne cork. Biting lip to surpress giggles.
More oil, more pressure points, more wimpering (me, not him) and I'm done after 50 minutes.
He left the room to get some apricot nectar for me (nice!) and then asked if I wanted to shower. Pretty groggy, I said okay and was lead down a small hallway and toward a door between two others labeled "vichy room" and "facial room." He opened the frosted glass door with no lock and showed me what seemed to be the shower from solitary confinement at the local prison.
No, really, it was cute - - if you like brown brick- - with a hubcap sized shower head and half-gallon drums of shampoo, conditioner, shower gels and moisturizer. I took a quick rinse and decided to wash my hair at home later.
Time to get dressed for my manicure and find my mother, whom I hadn't seen in about 2 hours.
She emerged beaming, not only from the positive experience of the spa treatments, but from the unusually dramatic makeup applied by the technician. We're not talking Tammye Faye Baker, but it was a bit much.
All in all, another girls' night out success.
My 70-something mother, who still believes that gift certificates expire, insisted that we use our spa service gift certificates before the year's end. I made appointments for her to have a manicure, facial and makeup application and for a massage and manicure for me.
If this were a mechanic's garage, we'd be coming in for an overhaul...okay, maybe just a tune-up.
I kept my mother busy chatting while we changed into thick, plush terry robes for our services. Robe? for a manicure, facial and makeup?? questioned my mom. I tried to reassure her and tell her that it's not like we'd be heading into the mall for some window-shopping between treatments.
My mom is pretty small in stature, a fact brought home to me when I saw her tottling around in her robe and rubber flipflops. Suddenly our positions had flipped and I was worried about her. Will she like her manicurist? She's never had a facial and she's got sensitive skin! Will she remember to tell the makeup artist that she's allergic to mascara??
With an uneasy smile, she waved and was lead away to her manicure while they put me in a "quiet room" to wait for my massage. They should call it the "nap room" because it was lined with daybeds, each equipped with huge rolled pillows and a fringed throw blanket. I napped for an unknown amount of time, occasionally hearing other clients enter and leave, including, surprisingly, one male spa-goer.
A dark-haired man with a strong eastern European accent soon arrived and called for me to follow him. I thought he was an assistant, but NO! he was my massage therapist. Standing there clad only in a robe, in a small, darkly lit room alone with a man and a bed - - okay, it was a table- - how would this work exactly??
We decided that he would work on the back of the body (his phrasing) so as to concentrate on my sore back and shoulders instead of a full body massage. That's fine, I really wasn't looking forward to some strange fellow (read: not cute) massaging "the front of my body."
Laying on my stomach and putting my face into what seemed to be a small, padded toilet seat, I tried to relax and not laugh as my cheeks got squished and pushed up into my eyeballs with each deep rub.
At one point, my masseur imbedded both thumbs at the base of my cranium and pushed. I'm imagining my head popping off and rolling on the floor like a champagne cork. Biting lip to surpress giggles.
More oil, more pressure points, more wimpering (me, not him) and I'm done after 50 minutes.
He left the room to get some apricot nectar for me (nice!) and then asked if I wanted to shower. Pretty groggy, I said okay and was lead down a small hallway and toward a door between two others labeled "vichy room" and "facial room." He opened the frosted glass door with no lock and showed me what seemed to be the shower from solitary confinement at the local prison.
No, really, it was cute - - if you like brown brick- - with a hubcap sized shower head and half-gallon drums of shampoo, conditioner, shower gels and moisturizer. I took a quick rinse and decided to wash my hair at home later.
Time to get dressed for my manicure and find my mother, whom I hadn't seen in about 2 hours.
She emerged beaming, not only from the positive experience of the spa treatments, but from the unusually dramatic makeup applied by the technician. We're not talking Tammye Faye Baker, but it was a bit much.
All in all, another girls' night out success.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
On the road again
A friend once told me, "You know, if you had a reason to stay home (i.e. boyfriend, husband), you wouldn't be traveling so much."
I'm not sure if that was an attempt to identify my apparently socially crippling status as a 40-year-old single woman or just a statement of the incredibly obvious. Either way, I'm very happy and excited about my upcoming trips in 2006.
So there!
In January, Firecracker will be working in Connecticut and invited me to meet her in New York to hang out in the Big Apple one weekend. How fun will this be?!?!? Hotel in Times Square and a Broadway show!
Nothing in February...so far.
March for me means SPRING TRAINING. For one weekend, I get to escape the damp, bone-chilling cold that is Chicago in spring and make a break for it. How does this sound? Cold beer, hot sun and baseball? Firecracker and I will be cheering on our Cubs (and celebrating her birthday) in Arizona for one weekend in March.
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I attended two weddings in Europe last summer. (Cha-ching!!) Another wedding is on the books, but it's local...sorta. A former colleague of mine ran off to a Justice of the Peace (how totally cute is that!), but the formal wedding celebration will be in April. I originally thought it would be in Chattanooga, Tennessee (where the bride is from), but rumor has it, the weekend will take place in North Carolina (where the bride's grandmother lives).
Oh, another minor complication to the April wedding celebration is the fact that the first day of it (April 7) is also the Chicago Cubs' home opener against the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals. Is it just me or am I a magnet for strange situations like this?
That brings me to May, which is almost SUMMER!!!!!! No need to go anywhere during summer in Chicago. Everything you'd want is right here - - warm weather, baseball, street fairs, music festivals, etc!!
Let's go '06!
I'm not sure if that was an attempt to identify my apparently socially crippling status as a 40-year-old single woman or just a statement of the incredibly obvious. Either way, I'm very happy and excited about my upcoming trips in 2006.
So there!
In January, Firecracker will be working in Connecticut and invited me to meet her in New York to hang out in the Big Apple one weekend. How fun will this be?!?!? Hotel in Times Square and a Broadway show!
Nothing in February...so far.
March for me means SPRING TRAINING. For one weekend, I get to escape the damp, bone-chilling cold that is Chicago in spring and make a break for it. How does this sound? Cold beer, hot sun and baseball? Firecracker and I will be cheering on our Cubs (and celebrating her birthday) in Arizona for one weekend in March.
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I attended two weddings in Europe last summer. (Cha-ching!!) Another wedding is on the books, but it's local...sorta. A former colleague of mine ran off to a Justice of the Peace (how totally cute is that!), but the formal wedding celebration will be in April. I originally thought it would be in Chattanooga, Tennessee (where the bride is from), but rumor has it, the weekend will take place in North Carolina (where the bride's grandmother lives).
Oh, another minor complication to the April wedding celebration is the fact that the first day of it (April 7) is also the Chicago Cubs' home opener against the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals. Is it just me or am I a magnet for strange situations like this?
That brings me to May, which is almost SUMMER!!!!!! No need to go anywhere during summer in Chicago. Everything you'd want is right here - - warm weather, baseball, street fairs, music festivals, etc!!
Let's go '06!
Monday, December 19, 2005
Mission accomplished...sort of
I'm feeling much more in control of my holiday gift-giving now, having secured nine- - count 'em NINE- -Christmas presents in a little under two hours of shopping on Saturday!
Feel free to be impressed.
I'm a good shopper. By that I mean, I decide what to buy, go into the store and buy it, and GET OUT! None of this lollygagging around the mall, hoping the perfect gift idea will jump out and bite me in the ass!!
I also try to get pretty good value for my money. That's not to say that I won't spend quite a bit of money on Christmas gifts. I always do that. I also attempt to balance my desire to have a very happy recipient with my need not to go broke!
One Christmas present that was purchased on Saturday has definitely met the "good value" requirement, but may also end up being a royal pain in my backside. Let me explain:
With several gifts already purchased, I came upon a very pretty cashmere sweater that I thought would be perfect for my sister-in-law. She and my brother have been married since I was in grammar school, so I've never felt that we were close buddies what with the difference in age and life experiences and all.
Anyway, the sweater was almost $100 (out of price range), but the 30% off sale slipped it right under the radar and onto the cashier's counter. This is where it gets interesting. The cashier announced that she had an extra discount card that she had just scanned and I would receive an extra $50 off!!! The wonderfully soft and luxurious $100 sweater would end up costing me a bit over TEN DOLLARS!!!
Great, right!?!?!
Think this through with me.
It's Christmas Eve and my sister-in-law opens the gift (yes, we open most stuff on Christmas Eve, I don't know why) and decides she doesn't like the color or it doesn't fit or she's allergic to cashmere. For whatever reason, she decides to return it. Walking up to the customer service department after Christmas, she is told that she will receive a TEN DOLLAR CREDIT.
Please!! For my sake, let's all say a little prayer that she loves the sweater and it fits!!!
Feel free to be impressed.
I'm a good shopper. By that I mean, I decide what to buy, go into the store and buy it, and GET OUT! None of this lollygagging around the mall, hoping the perfect gift idea will jump out and bite me in the ass!!
I also try to get pretty good value for my money. That's not to say that I won't spend quite a bit of money on Christmas gifts. I always do that. I also attempt to balance my desire to have a very happy recipient with my need not to go broke!
One Christmas present that was purchased on Saturday has definitely met the "good value" requirement, but may also end up being a royal pain in my backside. Let me explain:
With several gifts already purchased, I came upon a very pretty cashmere sweater that I thought would be perfect for my sister-in-law. She and my brother have been married since I was in grammar school, so I've never felt that we were close buddies what with the difference in age and life experiences and all.
Anyway, the sweater was almost $100 (out of price range), but the 30% off sale slipped it right under the radar and onto the cashier's counter. This is where it gets interesting. The cashier announced that she had an extra discount card that she had just scanned and I would receive an extra $50 off!!! The wonderfully soft and luxurious $100 sweater would end up costing me a bit over TEN DOLLARS!!!
Great, right!?!?!
Think this through with me.
It's Christmas Eve and my sister-in-law opens the gift (yes, we open most stuff on Christmas Eve, I don't know why) and decides she doesn't like the color or it doesn't fit or she's allergic to cashmere. For whatever reason, she decides to return it. Walking up to the customer service department after Christmas, she is told that she will receive a TEN DOLLAR CREDIT.
Please!! For my sake, let's all say a little prayer that she loves the sweater and it fits!!!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Holiday blessings
I know, I know, I was supposed to do a "what I'm thankful for" post last month for Thanksgiving. Yeah, well, sue me for being late. Actually, I'm usually more introspective around this time of year anyway.
My feelings of appreciation rose significantly earlier this week as I received a few Christmas cards, locally from Firecracker (whose friendship enriches my life daily), and long-distance from a former colleague in Tennessee who will be married later this spring and another former colleague who lives in Germany with his wife.
I've already sent Christmas cards (screw p.c. -ness!) to my overseas friends in the U.K., Australia, Vienna and others in Germany. There's one more addressee to locate in Spain and another in Germany and all the international cards will be done.
And tonight I'm having dinner (and probably lots of tequila) with two wonderful Mexican women whom I am lucky enough to call friends.
I've learned so much from all of my non-American friends. I think I've learned to see things in a light that differs from the one I used in my white-bread suburban American upbringing. To say this is a good thing is to minimize the impact of these friendships.
Hope Santa is good to all of my friends!!
Feliz Navidad! Bonne Annee! Frohe Weihnachten!
My feelings of appreciation rose significantly earlier this week as I received a few Christmas cards, locally from Firecracker (whose friendship enriches my life daily), and long-distance from a former colleague in Tennessee who will be married later this spring and another former colleague who lives in Germany with his wife.
I've already sent Christmas cards (screw p.c. -ness!) to my overseas friends in the U.K., Australia, Vienna and others in Germany. There's one more addressee to locate in Spain and another in Germany and all the international cards will be done.
And tonight I'm having dinner (and probably lots of tequila) with two wonderful Mexican women whom I am lucky enough to call friends.
I've learned so much from all of my non-American friends. I think I've learned to see things in a light that differs from the one I used in my white-bread suburban American upbringing. To say this is a good thing is to minimize the impact of these friendships.
Hope Santa is good to all of my friends!!
Feliz Navidad! Bonne Annee! Frohe Weihnachten!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Faces in the crowd
Had my first real workout with my trainer tonight and I've lived to blog about it. (Of course, that doesn't mean I'll be able to haul my ass out of bed tomorrow, but we'll see.)
During the last few minutes of our workout (read: after I'm good and sweaty), I notice a cute blond guy working on a machine not too far away. I'm sure I know him, but have no clue as to how. I'm careful not to make eye contact so I can avoid the embarrassing scene where he remembers me and I'm a babbling idiot.
I mention the mystery guy to my trainer and a few minutes later (I'm trying to concentrate on not killing myself by dropping weights on my chest), my trainer mentions that mystery guy spotted me when he walked by.
Okay, now my mind is reeling: there are so few cuties in my world! Who IS this guy? I systematically run through all the male acquaintences I've met in the past few years; Wrigley Field employees, security guards at my office, a one-time date from a few years ago...hey, he was blond! The more I think about it, it's not him. That guy lived about an hour from the city.
I finished my circuit, re-checked my next appointment with my trainer and left. No use making myself crazy trying to figure out who that guy was. It doesn't really matter. I'm trying to concentrate on improving myself anyway, not picking up some guy in gym shorts.
Sorting my mail as I walked in my door, I noticed nothing unusual: bank statements, ads, an invite to a December college graduation, and a postcard from my doctor reminding me of a check-up.
From the depths of my sweatsoaked mind, suddenly, Tab A folded nicely into Slot B and I remembered who the cute blond guy was...
my gynecologist!
During the last few minutes of our workout (read: after I'm good and sweaty), I notice a cute blond guy working on a machine not too far away. I'm sure I know him, but have no clue as to how. I'm careful not to make eye contact so I can avoid the embarrassing scene where he remembers me and I'm a babbling idiot.
I mention the mystery guy to my trainer and a few minutes later (I'm trying to concentrate on not killing myself by dropping weights on my chest), my trainer mentions that mystery guy spotted me when he walked by.
Okay, now my mind is reeling: there are so few cuties in my world! Who IS this guy? I systematically run through all the male acquaintences I've met in the past few years; Wrigley Field employees, security guards at my office, a one-time date from a few years ago...hey, he was blond! The more I think about it, it's not him. That guy lived about an hour from the city.
I finished my circuit, re-checked my next appointment with my trainer and left. No use making myself crazy trying to figure out who that guy was. It doesn't really matter. I'm trying to concentrate on improving myself anyway, not picking up some guy in gym shorts.
Sorting my mail as I walked in my door, I noticed nothing unusual: bank statements, ads, an invite to a December college graduation, and a postcard from my doctor reminding me of a check-up.
From the depths of my sweatsoaked mind, suddenly, Tab A folded nicely into Slot B and I remembered who the cute blond guy was...
my gynecologist!
Sunday, December 04, 2005
A new year and a new me???
I've finished my first week back to work and sorry to say, it feels like I never left. Sydney seems farther away than its physical thousands of miles distance.
To keep my mind off my homesickness for Australia, I've decided to make some changes...in me (at least to start).
I don't want to use "turning 40" as an excuse to let my shape go to hell, so I've joined a gym. I know what you're thinking...another waste of money because I'll never go. I was thinking that too (I know how lazy I am), so I threw down even MORE $$$ and hired a personal trainer to kick my a*$# for six whole sessions.
I wasn't sure what to write about today, but when I crawled out of bed to butt cramps and stiff legs, I had my theme. Yes, I suffered through my first training session yesterday. I must be terribly out of shape because we only did ONE SET of each exercise and here I am, walking like a retired linebacker!
I have two appointments with my trainer this week and for motivation, I've tried to challenge Firecracker to a fitness competition. Since we will be going to the Cubs spring training in early March (and celebrating her birthday there), I thought it would be a good goal to be in shape to sit in the sun and watch baseball.
So far, she's refused my challenge. If any of you read her blog, guilt her into it. It will be good for both of us, I'm sure.
Wish me luck!!
To keep my mind off my homesickness for Australia, I've decided to make some changes...in me (at least to start).
I don't want to use "turning 40" as an excuse to let my shape go to hell, so I've joined a gym. I know what you're thinking...another waste of money because I'll never go. I was thinking that too (I know how lazy I am), so I threw down even MORE $$$ and hired a personal trainer to kick my a*$# for six whole sessions.
I wasn't sure what to write about today, but when I crawled out of bed to butt cramps and stiff legs, I had my theme. Yes, I suffered through my first training session yesterday. I must be terribly out of shape because we only did ONE SET of each exercise and here I am, walking like a retired linebacker!
I have two appointments with my trainer this week and for motivation, I've tried to challenge Firecracker to a fitness competition. Since we will be going to the Cubs spring training in early March (and celebrating her birthday there), I thought it would be a good goal to be in shape to sit in the sun and watch baseball.
So far, she's refused my challenge. If any of you read her blog, guilt her into it. It will be good for both of us, I'm sure.
Wish me luck!!
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Photos! I've got photos!!
First Perth...The Writer and the Perth skyline- -
If you look closely, you'll see a V-neck
suntan which is the result of about 1 hour
in the sun in Sydney on my first day in
Australia. Nice city, Perth, about 1 million
people, but not more than 4 days' worth
of stuff to see and do, but nice.
Port Douglas- -
As you can see, I really love 4-Mile Beach. It's probably my favorite place in tropical north Queensland.
But maybe....
the view from my breakfast table at Port
Douglas' restaurant, Soul 'n' Pepper is my
favorite place. It might be a toss-up!
Sydney- -
And then, of course, there's my favorite
city on the planet. If I lived in Manly, one
of the Sydney suburbs, this would be my
view during the morning commute.
Not too bad, huh?
Saturday, November 26, 2005
I'm home
I'm home with family and friends, some of whom missed me and others who didn't even know I was gone.
Home- - a place that you love to be, where people are excited to see you and all is right with the world when you are there. If this is home, why can't I sleep?
The last two nights, I've tossed and turned and finally got up at exactly 3:44 am (same time both nights, weird). It's not jet lag. I haven't had that in years.
When I got home from Sydney, I got an email from Leg Shaver Guy, saying that he'd definitely like to see me again and, in the meantime, get to know each other via email. Big news, huh?
Part of my recent insomniac activities included a sleep-deprived email (kinda like drunk-dialing except not as funny).
Take one part insomnia + two parts new relationship paranoia and that equals one email that asks too many direct and possibly accusatory questions.
We have a 9-5 Mon-Fri email relationship complicated by a 17-hour time difference.
Thing is, I don't know what I want the answers to be.
Home- - a place that you love to be, where people are excited to see you and all is right with the world when you are there. If this is home, why can't I sleep?
The last two nights, I've tossed and turned and finally got up at exactly 3:44 am (same time both nights, weird). It's not jet lag. I haven't had that in years.
When I got home from Sydney, I got an email from Leg Shaver Guy, saying that he'd definitely like to see me again and, in the meantime, get to know each other via email. Big news, huh?
Part of my recent insomniac activities included a sleep-deprived email (kinda like drunk-dialing except not as funny).
Take one part insomnia + two parts new relationship paranoia and that equals one email that asks too many direct and possibly accusatory questions.
We have a 9-5 Mon-Fri email relationship complicated by a 17-hour time difference.
Thing is, I don't know what I want the answers to be.
Monday, November 21, 2005
You know you're in Australia when...
SYDNEY --
- your dinner menu very well might include Morton Bay Bugs, yabbies, John Dory and roasted swede! (the first three are seafood and the last is a member of the potato family).
- a burger at McDonalds might come with beetroot (beet)
- movie theatres give you the exact seat row and number
- cars drive, pedestrians pass and revolving doors all go LEFT
- tall black and flat white aren't racile profiling, they're coffee
- $1 and $2 denominations are coins and the $1 is bigger!
- baked beans, grilled tomatoes and sauteed mushrooms are normally found on a breakfast buffet
Yep, it's strange, but I'll miss it!
Aussie vocabulary words/phrases
In order to truly get a taste of my time here Down Under, I've compiled a few words and/or phrases that have actually been spoken to me in the last three weeks. Yes, they DO speak English down here (sort of):
How ya going? = How are you?
Fair dinkum = honestly
No worries = no problem
mozzies = mosquitos
cossie = swim costume
sunnies = sunglasses
my shout = my treat
Food words:
capsicum = bell pepper
rocket = salad
serviette = napkin
brekky = breakfast
biscuit (or bikky) = cookie
crisps = potato chips
chips = french fries
fillet= pronounced "fill it"
I wonder what my usual pizza place will say if I order a "funghi" pizza?
How ya going? = How are you?
Fair dinkum = honestly
No worries = no problem
mozzies = mosquitos
cossie = swim costume
sunnies = sunglasses
my shout = my treat
Food words:
capsicum = bell pepper
rocket = salad
serviette = napkin
brekky = breakfast
biscuit (or bikky) = cookie
crisps = potato chips
chips = french fries
fillet= pronounced "fill it"
I wonder what my usual pizza place will say if I order a "funghi" pizza?
Homesick? Never heard of the word
SYDNEY- - It is with a heavy heart that I report that today is my last day in Australia. My birthday trip is about to end and no, I'm not "ready to go home" yet. Tomorrow I jump on a plane to Los Angeles and then on to Chicago where it's bitterly cold and crappy.
Fortunately, Mother Nature granted me one last day of sun (or at least SOME sun) and I took advantage and jumped on the ferry over to Manly for a bit of sunbathing. To "top off my tan," as one local put it.
The water was FRIGID, not like the bathwater I dove into in Port Douglas. Needless to say, most of my time was spent on the sand, not in the water.
As I listened to the seagulls cry, the surfers laugh and shout and the waves rush up on shore, I tried to forget that after tomorrow, I'll have to be satisfied to just IMAGINE the warm breezes as I listen to the imitation surf sounds coming from my alarm clock.
Like a child in a toy store, I don't wanna go home yet. I WANNA STAY!!!
Fortunately, Mother Nature granted me one last day of sun (or at least SOME sun) and I took advantage and jumped on the ferry over to Manly for a bit of sunbathing. To "top off my tan," as one local put it.
The water was FRIGID, not like the bathwater I dove into in Port Douglas. Needless to say, most of my time was spent on the sand, not in the water.
As I listened to the seagulls cry, the surfers laugh and shout and the waves rush up on shore, I tried to forget that after tomorrow, I'll have to be satisfied to just IMAGINE the warm breezes as I listen to the imitation surf sounds coming from my alarm clock.
Like a child in a toy store, I don't wanna go home yet. I WANNA STAY!!!
Friday, November 18, 2005
This is only a test
SYDNEY- - Sydney is testing me, I think. Trying to find out if I would really love this city so much if it was my permanent home, instead of just my fantasy getaway. It's easy to love a city when the sky is blue, the sun is shining and every aspect of everyday life is uncomplicated.
BUT...
The weather in Sydney has been pretty crappy except for the last day or two. Of course, it's not bad compared to Chicago, but just the same.
Surprisingly enough, I've found that when I've been faced with a disappointment, some other positive jumps up to take its place. A few examples:
BUT...
The weather in Sydney has been pretty crappy except for the last day or two. Of course, it's not bad compared to Chicago, but just the same.
Surprisingly enough, I've found that when I've been faced with a disappointment, some other positive jumps up to take its place. A few examples:
- rainy, windy, chilly weather forced me indoors and into the Sydney Aquarium (which is amazing!!!) I saw a manta ray that's about the size of my dining room!
- feeling a bit down about my career and not really hungry, (but it was dinner time) so I stopped in to Sailors Thai. It's an inexpensive restaurant that has one long communal dinner table. It was here that I met Judy, a Melbournian woman who was in town on business (advertising). We hit it off so well, that we had dessert and coffee at another restaurant and traded business cards. She mentioned that it probably wouldn't be hard for me to make a career and life change to Australia. Hmmn??
- got dressed up on Friday night to go to dinner at Wildfire, a very nice restaurant that faces the Opera House. Last year, they treated me like royalty (or maybe a restaurant critic??) I walked up and asked about a table for one. I was told that I could sit at the counter (but they gave it some cute name, so it didn't sound so much like a diner). Basically, I could sit shoulder-to-shoulder with some strangers (keep in mind, this is a MUCH nicer and pricier restaurant than Sailors Thai), or I could come back in a few hours, when they weren't busy. Needless to say, I left angry. I went to the Horizon Lounge, a swanky bar on the 36th floor of the Shangri La Hotel. It was there I met Susan and Victor, a couple of Chicago vacationers. They suggested we try to get a table at Rockpool. If you haven't heard of Rockpool, maybe you've heard of Neal Perry, the celebrity chef who owns it. It's one of, if not THE best restaurant in Australia. We sat for five courses with wine at each course. FABULOUS!!!!!
- got to sleep at 2:30 AM after dinner at Rockpool. Was awakened at 8:30 this morning by some screaming children who were splashing around in the pool two floors below my balcony. I wonder what the "positive" of today will be???
Monday, November 14, 2005
The Rocks
SYDNEY- - I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about work! Yuck!! I'm still on vacation, I'm not supposed to think about my job!! And then I realized why.
It's my first morning in Sydney and as I was slowly awakening, my subconscious heard the sounds of a city coming alive. People going to work, traffic on the roadways, ferry horns signaling departures - - sounds I certainly didn't hear last week in Port Douglas. Hell! in PD, a traffic jam is when more than 3 cars are on Macrossan Street at the same time!
But, as a self-proclaimed "city girl" I am adjusting and my new hotel certainly helps. I booked it a while ago and forgot the details. I've got a studio apartment with a kitchen, sofa, desk and a balcony!! I've got coupons for brekky plus there's a small health club and a pool. Not too shabby, but I still miss the heat of PD!
I took the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hall to my room, stopping to look out the window at a man walking by. No, he wasn't a window-washer on scaffolding, but a man walking down the street on his way (presumably) home.
I'm staying in The Rocks, an area of Sydney that is VERY hilly! So much so that I wasn't surprised to find myself at "ground" level in the lobby, again at "ground" level on the second floor elevator lobby. Once inside my apartment, I walked outside to my balcony, which overlooks several rooftops in The Rocks. It's weird, but it's one of the things that makes The Rocks such a fascinating neighborhood.
There is one place I plan to go while here (okay, several places). It's the 30th floor bar at the Shangri-La Hotel (formerly the ANA Hotel). The bar is surrounded by windows and gives amazing views of the Harbor Bridge and the Opera House. Oh, and to get there from my hotel, I have to climb a flight of stairs built out of rock in the middle of a wall near my hotel. Like I said, fascinating place.
It's my first morning in Sydney and as I was slowly awakening, my subconscious heard the sounds of a city coming alive. People going to work, traffic on the roadways, ferry horns signaling departures - - sounds I certainly didn't hear last week in Port Douglas. Hell! in PD, a traffic jam is when more than 3 cars are on Macrossan Street at the same time!
But, as a self-proclaimed "city girl" I am adjusting and my new hotel certainly helps. I booked it a while ago and forgot the details. I've got a studio apartment with a kitchen, sofa, desk and a balcony!! I've got coupons for brekky plus there's a small health club and a pool. Not too shabby, but I still miss the heat of PD!
I took the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hall to my room, stopping to look out the window at a man walking by. No, he wasn't a window-washer on scaffolding, but a man walking down the street on his way (presumably) home.
I'm staying in The Rocks, an area of Sydney that is VERY hilly! So much so that I wasn't surprised to find myself at "ground" level in the lobby, again at "ground" level on the second floor elevator lobby. Once inside my apartment, I walked outside to my balcony, which overlooks several rooftops in The Rocks. It's weird, but it's one of the things that makes The Rocks such a fascinating neighborhood.
There is one place I plan to go while here (okay, several places). It's the 30th floor bar at the Shangri-La Hotel (formerly the ANA Hotel). The bar is surrounded by windows and gives amazing views of the Harbor Bridge and the Opera House. Oh, and to get there from my hotel, I have to climb a flight of stairs built out of rock in the middle of a wall near my hotel. Like I said, fascinating place.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Bye PD!
PORT DOUGLAS- - Today is my last full day in Port Douglas and it's hard to push aside the feelings of melancholy. I don't want to leave.
It's not just the weather, which is perfect for me: mid to upper 80s F with bright blue sunny skies and a light ocean breeze.
It's not just the atmosphere: relaxed and friendly; five minutes' conversation at a craft fare turns easily into exchanged emails and recipes from moms.
It's not just my hosts: Christel and Wolfgang have included me in their circle of friends, sharing birthday champagne and balloons plus dinner with a small, but fun group of Germans and Aussies.
I'm not sure what it is, but I'll miss it.
It's not just the weather, which is perfect for me: mid to upper 80s F with bright blue sunny skies and a light ocean breeze.
It's not just the atmosphere: relaxed and friendly; five minutes' conversation at a craft fare turns easily into exchanged emails and recipes from moms.
It's not just my hosts: Christel and Wolfgang have included me in their circle of friends, sharing birthday champagne and balloons plus dinner with a small, but fun group of Germans and Aussies.
I'm not sure what it is, but I'll miss it.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Birthday day
For those romantics out there that are wondering about Leg Shaver Guy, he was one of the first messages I received on my birthday. (Okay, my sister-in-law's cell phone call at 2:20 AM was technically the first!)
Normally, I would grant myself the luxury of sleep on my b-day, but on that day, I had a date with tropical fish and gorgeous ocean water. I was going to the Great Barrier Reef!
Quicksilver is a company that's been offering trips to the Low Isles for 18 years and it's my third time with them. We took off on a boat called Wavedancer. Okay, "boat" isn't the proper word. How about this: a huge blindingly white catamaran with a gigantic blue sail and room for about 150 people (we only had about 80).
Halfway to the Low Isles (inner reef), my cell phone rang! It was my mom, wishing me "happy birthday," so that was nice.
The difference in this Wavedancer snorkeling trip from past years was this year, we were strongly encouraged to wear "stinger suits" aka blue lycra bodysuits. The suit would keep us safe from "stingers," commonly known in the US as Portugese manowar or jellyfish. It also protects against sunburn. Honestly, the outfit included a hood and mitten-type things, so I was pretty much blue top to bottom.
Think Blue Man Group goes swimming!
I didn't care if they put me in armor, I was going out to visit the fishies! And, boy did I see a TON! of them including a sea turtle that swam right up to me! When I came across about a dozen medium-sized (half meter?) fish all chomping down on coral in the same spot like an aquatic McDonalds, I decided it was time for lunch.
The buffet on the Wavedancer was pretty cool with prawns, chicken, three kinds of salads plus a mango-orange drink to wash it all down. Of course, after finishing the full day of snorkeling, I switched to rum and coke (more on that later).
The second round of snorkeling didn't come as easily to me and I kept getting water in my mask. Finally, I got somewhat comfy. Keep in mind that all but approximately two inches of my entire body is encased in blue spandex.
I felt a tiny pinch on the right side of my upper lip, but I didn't see the offending fish (or coral or whatever), but decided the prudent thing would be to call it a day and find out if I was going to die or not (just kidding).
The divemaster told me that I probably got stung by sea lice. How glamorous is that?? A bit of ice on the spot and I should be fine. I decided that a bit of rum and coke would be much better. (The bartender - -a woman- - bought me my first rum and coke for a bday gift.)
Back on the boat, the Wavedancer crew had set up shop with various photos of each of us taken at the Low Isles. Yes, I'm a sucker, so I bought one of me in my famous blue bodysuit. If you bought two photos, you got a CD with fish and other scenes from the reef and our boat. I only wanted one photo, so no go. (But the photographer and I talked for a bit and he found out it was my birthday, so after I paid for my photo, I found he also included the CD as a gift! How cool is that?!)
Back to my apartment/hotel, I was all set to have champagne with Christel and Wolfgang, the German couple who own the complex. When I checked in earlier this week, Christel mentioned that she bought some champagne for my birthday. Is she great or what??
Several toasts later, the five of us (another German couple joined us) had killed only two bottles of bubbly, but it was time for me to go to dinner.
Another wonderful evening in Port Douglas included kangaroo loin in some fabulous au jus plus a passionfruit custard, mango and strawberry dessert. Watergate (the restaurant) is tucked in off the main street with huge palm trees and ferns shrouding it from the noise of the road. The staff was great, even showing me their resident green tree frog. They said I could name it, so I suggested "Cubby." We'll see if that sticks.
On the return trip from the Low Isles, the gang on the Wavedancer had been treated to a solo guitar player and singer. It was magical and I wasn't keen on this evening ending yet, so I found out that the singer was performing a few blocks from Watergate.
I caught the last set and the singer waved to me from behind the mic and said "Happy Birthday MJ!"
Up at 7 am and in bed soon after midnight, a bit more tanned and a tiny bit buzzed. All in all, a pretty fabulous 40th!
Normally, I would grant myself the luxury of sleep on my b-day, but on that day, I had a date with tropical fish and gorgeous ocean water. I was going to the Great Barrier Reef!
Quicksilver is a company that's been offering trips to the Low Isles for 18 years and it's my third time with them. We took off on a boat called Wavedancer. Okay, "boat" isn't the proper word. How about this: a huge blindingly white catamaran with a gigantic blue sail and room for about 150 people (we only had about 80).
Halfway to the Low Isles (inner reef), my cell phone rang! It was my mom, wishing me "happy birthday," so that was nice.
The difference in this Wavedancer snorkeling trip from past years was this year, we were strongly encouraged to wear "stinger suits" aka blue lycra bodysuits. The suit would keep us safe from "stingers," commonly known in the US as Portugese manowar or jellyfish. It also protects against sunburn. Honestly, the outfit included a hood and mitten-type things, so I was pretty much blue top to bottom.
Think Blue Man Group goes swimming!
I didn't care if they put me in armor, I was going out to visit the fishies! And, boy did I see a TON! of them including a sea turtle that swam right up to me! When I came across about a dozen medium-sized (half meter?) fish all chomping down on coral in the same spot like an aquatic McDonalds, I decided it was time for lunch.
The buffet on the Wavedancer was pretty cool with prawns, chicken, three kinds of salads plus a mango-orange drink to wash it all down. Of course, after finishing the full day of snorkeling, I switched to rum and coke (more on that later).
The second round of snorkeling didn't come as easily to me and I kept getting water in my mask. Finally, I got somewhat comfy. Keep in mind that all but approximately two inches of my entire body is encased in blue spandex.
I felt a tiny pinch on the right side of my upper lip, but I didn't see the offending fish (or coral or whatever), but decided the prudent thing would be to call it a day and find out if I was going to die or not (just kidding).
The divemaster told me that I probably got stung by sea lice. How glamorous is that?? A bit of ice on the spot and I should be fine. I decided that a bit of rum and coke would be much better. (The bartender - -a woman- - bought me my first rum and coke for a bday gift.)
Back on the boat, the Wavedancer crew had set up shop with various photos of each of us taken at the Low Isles. Yes, I'm a sucker, so I bought one of me in my famous blue bodysuit. If you bought two photos, you got a CD with fish and other scenes from the reef and our boat. I only wanted one photo, so no go. (But the photographer and I talked for a bit and he found out it was my birthday, so after I paid for my photo, I found he also included the CD as a gift! How cool is that?!)
Back to my apartment/hotel, I was all set to have champagne with Christel and Wolfgang, the German couple who own the complex. When I checked in earlier this week, Christel mentioned that she bought some champagne for my birthday. Is she great or what??
Several toasts later, the five of us (another German couple joined us) had killed only two bottles of bubbly, but it was time for me to go to dinner.
Another wonderful evening in Port Douglas included kangaroo loin in some fabulous au jus plus a passionfruit custard, mango and strawberry dessert. Watergate (the restaurant) is tucked in off the main street with huge palm trees and ferns shrouding it from the noise of the road. The staff was great, even showing me their resident green tree frog. They said I could name it, so I suggested "Cubby." We'll see if that sticks.
On the return trip from the Low Isles, the gang on the Wavedancer had been treated to a solo guitar player and singer. It was magical and I wasn't keen on this evening ending yet, so I found out that the singer was performing a few blocks from Watergate.
I caught the last set and the singer waved to me from behind the mic and said "Happy Birthday MJ!"
Up at 7 am and in bed soon after midnight, a bit more tanned and a tiny bit buzzed. All in all, a pretty fabulous 40th!
Haven't emigrated...yet
PORT DOUGLAS- - Okay, I've been pretty slack on my posting the last fews days, but if you had a choice between floating in impossibly blue ocean waves with bright sunlight on your face or sitting at a computer, which would you choose?
Okay, the past few days have been fabulously busy..no, that's not the right word. Occupied? (no, that sounds like WW II France). Exciting and fun, would be more like it.
A few days ago, I joined a group touring the Daintree Rainforest and Cape Tribulation (where Captain Cook crashed one of his ships "the place where my troubles began," he said, hence the name). While in the rainforest, we barbequed lunch at a privately owned spot in the middle of HUGE ferns and even bigger palm trees. After lunch, we swam in what can only be described as an idyllic freshwater pond. Think "Blue Lagoon" except with (some) clothes on.
I have some photos (that you'll, unfortunately, have to wait to see), but it was unlike anything I've ever done. I was splashing around in cool, clear water, surrounded by historic King ferns (pre-date dinosaurs!!!), Alexander palms, Madagascar palms, silky oaks, bismarkia palms, tree ferns, plus some very curious and friendly fish and a few tortoises. The slivers of sunlight broke through the rainforest canopy just enough to keep things from getting chilly.
Think "Beverly Hillbillies" and their "cement pond", but in reverse!
If you ever get up this way, the swimming hole was called Cassowary Creek.
Okay, the past few days have been fabulously busy..no, that's not the right word. Occupied? (no, that sounds like WW II France). Exciting and fun, would be more like it.
A few days ago, I joined a group touring the Daintree Rainforest and Cape Tribulation (where Captain Cook crashed one of his ships "the place where my troubles began," he said, hence the name). While in the rainforest, we barbequed lunch at a privately owned spot in the middle of HUGE ferns and even bigger palm trees. After lunch, we swam in what can only be described as an idyllic freshwater pond. Think "Blue Lagoon" except with (some) clothes on.
I have some photos (that you'll, unfortunately, have to wait to see), but it was unlike anything I've ever done. I was splashing around in cool, clear water, surrounded by historic King ferns (pre-date dinosaurs!!!), Alexander palms, Madagascar palms, silky oaks, bismarkia palms, tree ferns, plus some very curious and friendly fish and a few tortoises. The slivers of sunlight broke through the rainforest canopy just enough to keep things from getting chilly.
Think "Beverly Hillbillies" and their "cement pond", but in reverse!
If you ever get up this way, the swimming hole was called Cassowary Creek.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Sun-induced amnesia
PORT DOUGLAS - -Well, I've done it. I've lost track of what day it is. That always happens to me when I'm in Australia. Not sure why. Could be because IT.JUST.DOESN'T.MATTER!!!
Okay, I guess it matters a little when I've booked a tour like tomorrow (Cape Tribulation...look it up!) and the Great Barrier Reef on Thursday for my birthday trip.
I've been in Port Douglas for two days now and it already feels like home. The heat and humidity is just what my psyche needed. Christel (the manager/owner of the apartments where I'm staying) bought me a bottle of "bubbly" for my birthday. Isn't that fabulous!!
I spent the better part of my first afternoon here just sitting on a promontory under some palm trees, watching the ocean (or to be more exact, the Coral Sea). It's amazing how hypnotic the incoming tide can be. With each wave, I could feel my shoulders relax and my mind open up to the sights and sounds of nature. It was so unbelievably beautiful and calming.
Sorry I don't have photos yet, but maybe some imagery will do.
A huge flock of parrots exploded from a nearby palm tree and as the cloud of green feathers turned en masse toward its destination, amid cries and squawks, the afternoon sun ignited their bright red breasts.
Geez, I could really get used to this.
Oh, before I forget. Leg Shaver Guy text messaged me today (yesterday too) and said he tried to send me the photo of him as a girl, but my email wouldn't let it through. Any ideas why?? I suggested he try my other email address, so we'll see.
Okay, I guess it matters a little when I've booked a tour like tomorrow (Cape Tribulation...look it up!) and the Great Barrier Reef on Thursday for my birthday trip.
I've been in Port Douglas for two days now and it already feels like home. The heat and humidity is just what my psyche needed. Christel (the manager/owner of the apartments where I'm staying) bought me a bottle of "bubbly" for my birthday. Isn't that fabulous!!
I spent the better part of my first afternoon here just sitting on a promontory under some palm trees, watching the ocean (or to be more exact, the Coral Sea). It's amazing how hypnotic the incoming tide can be. With each wave, I could feel my shoulders relax and my mind open up to the sights and sounds of nature. It was so unbelievably beautiful and calming.
Sorry I don't have photos yet, but maybe some imagery will do.
A huge flock of parrots exploded from a nearby palm tree and as the cloud of green feathers turned en masse toward its destination, amid cries and squawks, the afternoon sun ignited their bright red breasts.
Geez, I could really get used to this.
Oh, before I forget. Leg Shaver Guy text messaged me today (yesterday too) and said he tried to send me the photo of him as a girl, but my email wouldn't let it through. Any ideas why?? I suggested he try my other email address, so we'll see.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Bye bye Perth
PERTH - - Well, I've checked out of my hotel and am officially homeless for about 8 hours until I go to the airport to fly to Cairns (and shuttle up to Port Douglas).
My first impressions of Perth are mixed. Of course, I'm sad to be leaving here. That's a familiar feeling whenever I travel, no matter how much fun I've had.
During past trips, I've visited Sydney, Melbourne, Cairns, the Gold Coast and Port Douglas, so I already know a lot about Australia. So many aspects of Australian life are so familiar to me, but Perth is new territory, at least to me.
I'd have to compare my first visit to Perth to spending a vacation with distant family members. There are moments of uncomfortable silence (not knowing what to do first), the getting-to-know-you phase (making sense of the city map and learning which street your hotel is on), and of course, the familiar stuff that convinces you that you really are family (beets on the burgers at McDonalds, "thank you" replaced by "no worries.")
On the whole, Perth is pretty cool. I mean that literally. It's been strange weather, hot sun-burning weather in the sun and sweatshirt weather in the shade. And windy! I've been told that Perth is the fourth windiest city on the planet. Yep, Chicago is No. 1. I think San Francisco is in there somewhere too.
If you ever come to Perth, there are some things you should definitely do (maybe 4 days worth, MAX!):
- wine tasting in Swan Valley (most of the Elizabeth River wines are processed here)
- day trip to Fremantle (see Fremantle prison - - built in 1850s, in use until 1991!!!!; visit Fremantle Maritime Museum - - much more interactive that I would have expected; hit the Fremantle Markets on the weekend, souvenirs plus fabulous fresh produce!)
- walk, picnic and hike in Kings Park and botanic gardens. I mention the hike part because a large chunk of Kings Park is recovering bushland and they let you picnic on the grass!
Of course, I'd have to say the highlight of my Perth visit was meeting Leg Shaver Guy. He flew home to Adelaide this morning. Even if I don't hear from him again, it was good practice.
My first impressions of Perth are mixed. Of course, I'm sad to be leaving here. That's a familiar feeling whenever I travel, no matter how much fun I've had.
During past trips, I've visited Sydney, Melbourne, Cairns, the Gold Coast and Port Douglas, so I already know a lot about Australia. So many aspects of Australian life are so familiar to me, but Perth is new territory, at least to me.
I'd have to compare my first visit to Perth to spending a vacation with distant family members. There are moments of uncomfortable silence (not knowing what to do first), the getting-to-know-you phase (making sense of the city map and learning which street your hotel is on), and of course, the familiar stuff that convinces you that you really are family (beets on the burgers at McDonalds, "thank you" replaced by "no worries.")
On the whole, Perth is pretty cool. I mean that literally. It's been strange weather, hot sun-burning weather in the sun and sweatshirt weather in the shade. And windy! I've been told that Perth is the fourth windiest city on the planet. Yep, Chicago is No. 1. I think San Francisco is in there somewhere too.
If you ever come to Perth, there are some things you should definitely do (maybe 4 days worth, MAX!):
- wine tasting in Swan Valley (most of the Elizabeth River wines are processed here)
- day trip to Fremantle (see Fremantle prison - - built in 1850s, in use until 1991!!!!; visit Fremantle Maritime Museum - - much more interactive that I would have expected; hit the Fremantle Markets on the weekend, souvenirs plus fabulous fresh produce!)
- walk, picnic and hike in Kings Park and botanic gardens. I mention the hike part because a large chunk of Kings Park is recovering bushland and they let you picnic on the grass!
Of course, I'd have to say the highlight of my Perth visit was meeting Leg Shaver Guy. He flew home to Adelaide this morning. Even if I don't hear from him again, it was good practice.
Sounds of Oz
Say the word "ground," but open your mouth as wide as possible with the "ou" sound.
Give it a try.
You've just reproduced the announcement made by my Perth hotel elevator when I reach the floor where the reception desk is located.
Love it!
Give it a try.
You've just reproduced the announcement made by my Perth hotel elevator when I reach the floor where the reception desk is located.
Love it!
Date with Leg Shaver Guy
PERTH - -Returning from a day trip to Fremantle (suburb of Perth with better nightlife, restaurants and museums), my phone did that annoying chime thing that always makes me smile. I've got mail!?!?!
It was Chris the Leg Shaver, the Aussie with whom I had drinks last night. (He had brought me a bottle of wine from South Australia - - his home state, of which he is very proud. Too sweet!)
We traded texts with the end result being he's leaving tomorrow on a 9:30 am flight back to Adelaide, so no chance for a breakfast together. He DID say that if the party tonight is a dud, he'll call me.
Oh, before I forget, the date:
We met in the hotel lobby bar and here I am with this Aussie guy who loves the NBA (although he's never been to the US much less an NBA game). He's tall with sandy blond hair. He likes to camp and bike ride. Complained a bit that he's out of shape (um, NO!)
Anyway, we belly up to the bar and he orders...a SINGAPORE SLING! a girlie drink!?!?! I suppress a smile when the bartender says they don't make those. I suggest a tequila sunrise (and secretly pat myself on the back for my bartending background and quick thinking). We have two, actually two each in the next hour or two.
Conversation was good and not nearly as strange as our first poolside encounter. I was a bit nervous, so of course, I talked too much! We talked about health care and how it's sooo different in the US. We spoke of travel and the wonderful locations that Mother Nature annihilated this year.
He invited me to come to South Australia for my next visit. Said he'd take me camping to the Flinders Ranges. Okay, my friends just dropped their collective jaws when they read that last line. YES! I HAVE BEEN CAMPING!
Contrary to many first dates that take place in a bar, there was no smooching, groping or any type of PDA.
Anyway, last call arrived (damned hotel bars and their early closing times!) and we walked toward the elevators. We arrived at my floor too quickly and when the doors opened, I thanked him for the drinks and the wine. He went for a hug and I went for a kiss (gimme a break!!! it's been a while, okay?!?) We managed both, but I think I surprised him with a kiss because he tried to hold the elevator doors open to continue our evening.
"Thanks again!" I said as he finally let the doors close.
Back to his text message today:
"Hi MJ. Hope you r having a great time in freo. I dont think i will see you b4 the dinner as i am off to pre dinner drinks. Will send you a picture! Will email you when i get home. Really would love to see you again X"
(Yes, he did end it with X.)
All together now....."Awww!"
It was Chris the Leg Shaver, the Aussie with whom I had drinks last night. (He had brought me a bottle of wine from South Australia - - his home state, of which he is very proud. Too sweet!)
We traded texts with the end result being he's leaving tomorrow on a 9:30 am flight back to Adelaide, so no chance for a breakfast together. He DID say that if the party tonight is a dud, he'll call me.
Oh, before I forget, the date:
We met in the hotel lobby bar and here I am with this Aussie guy who loves the NBA (although he's never been to the US much less an NBA game). He's tall with sandy blond hair. He likes to camp and bike ride. Complained a bit that he's out of shape (um, NO!)
Anyway, we belly up to the bar and he orders...a SINGAPORE SLING! a girlie drink!?!?! I suppress a smile when the bartender says they don't make those. I suggest a tequila sunrise (and secretly pat myself on the back for my bartending background and quick thinking). We have two, actually two each in the next hour or two.
Conversation was good and not nearly as strange as our first poolside encounter. I was a bit nervous, so of course, I talked too much! We talked about health care and how it's sooo different in the US. We spoke of travel and the wonderful locations that Mother Nature annihilated this year.
He invited me to come to South Australia for my next visit. Said he'd take me camping to the Flinders Ranges. Okay, my friends just dropped their collective jaws when they read that last line. YES! I HAVE BEEN CAMPING!
Contrary to many first dates that take place in a bar, there was no smooching, groping or any type of PDA.
Anyway, last call arrived (damned hotel bars and their early closing times!) and we walked toward the elevators. We arrived at my floor too quickly and when the doors opened, I thanked him for the drinks and the wine. He went for a hug and I went for a kiss (gimme a break!!! it's been a while, okay?!?) We managed both, but I think I surprised him with a kiss because he tried to hold the elevator doors open to continue our evening.
"Thanks again!" I said as he finally let the doors close.
Back to his text message today:
"Hi MJ. Hope you r having a great time in freo. I dont think i will see you b4 the dinner as i am off to pre dinner drinks. Will send you a picture! Will email you when i get home. Really would love to see you again X"
(Yes, he did end it with X.)
All together now....."Awww!"
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Just a bit of stubble
PERTH - - When he told me that his legs were shaved because he was dressing as a woman this Saturday, I knew more information was required.
His name is Chris and he's from Adelaide. We met at the rooftop pool at our hotel. He's attending a conference (or trying to get out of it, I'm not sure which) and the final day's event is some kind of costume party...at least that's what he said.
I advised him to exfoliate before he uses the fake tan to complete his "Survivor" character. Somehow I felt I should offer to do his makeup (?!?!) Yes, it was THAT kind of conversation.
For as weird as this was, it was about to step up a notch. Apparently, he's already got the bikini and chicken fillets to put in it?? (okay, I really wouldn't have thought of that, but it's Australia and they do things differently here).
We talked for the better part of an hour as he moved his chair closer to mine. (No, I didn't jump off the roof.) We seemed to be able to chat very easily. But, hey, how intimidating can a guy be that opens a conversation by explaining why his legs have less hair on them than mine?
The stats: 44 years old, two kids (older, out of school), works in the medical field but not a doctor (I don't think). Something about working with people to arrange all of their medical needs (peculiar situation in Australia, not like our health care...probably much better.)
Oh, he's divorced - - twice! Said he met and married a woman 11 years younger and, at some point, she decided she wanted to have kids and he didn't want them since he already had his. He said they'd already had that conversation, but she changed her mind. Says they're still friends.
He already had dinner plans for tonight, but wants to meet in the bar for a drink later. We'll see.
His name is Chris and he's from Adelaide. We met at the rooftop pool at our hotel. He's attending a conference (or trying to get out of it, I'm not sure which) and the final day's event is some kind of costume party...at least that's what he said.
I advised him to exfoliate before he uses the fake tan to complete his "Survivor" character. Somehow I felt I should offer to do his makeup (?!?!) Yes, it was THAT kind of conversation.
For as weird as this was, it was about to step up a notch. Apparently, he's already got the bikini and chicken fillets to put in it?? (okay, I really wouldn't have thought of that, but it's Australia and they do things differently here).
We talked for the better part of an hour as he moved his chair closer to mine. (No, I didn't jump off the roof.) We seemed to be able to chat very easily. But, hey, how intimidating can a guy be that opens a conversation by explaining why his legs have less hair on them than mine?
The stats: 44 years old, two kids (older, out of school), works in the medical field but not a doctor (I don't think). Something about working with people to arrange all of their medical needs (peculiar situation in Australia, not like our health care...probably much better.)
Oh, he's divorced - - twice! Said he met and married a woman 11 years younger and, at some point, she decided she wanted to have kids and he didn't want them since he already had his. He said they'd already had that conversation, but she changed her mind. Says they're still friends.
He already had dinner plans for tonight, but wants to meet in the bar for a drink later. We'll see.
Bloody aussie flys
PERTH - - Walking through King's Park and the Botanic Gardens, I became lunch for one of Australia's least talked-about, but most hated animals!
Flys (I'm going to spell it like the Aussies do).
It's not that there are more of them, but they are without doubt the most aggressive, persistent and annoying of all creatures. And there's a desire to be intimate that I really don't share. Let me explain as I swat away yet another beast.
Oh, by the way, you can't just wave your hand in the general direction of the fly (they just laugh). You have to make actual physical contact with the critter and even then, after you've dropped your hand, the bastard returns to the SAME SPOT as if his work there isn't done yet!
I put my sunglasses on to try to deter one beast from landing on my eyelashes. (Honestly, they love ANY orafice; eyes, ears, mouth. I'd hate the think what would happen on one of Australia's nude beaches.) Even though it's pretty hot outside, I'm afraid to lick my dry lips for fear that one of these insects will fly in and land on a molar!
I've had boyfriends who've tried to close to me like these flys, but the boyfriends gave up sooner! Attitude?!?! I've known Marines will less attitude!
Flys (I'm going to spell it like the Aussies do).
It's not that there are more of them, but they are without doubt the most aggressive, persistent and annoying of all creatures. And there's a desire to be intimate that I really don't share. Let me explain as I swat away yet another beast.
Oh, by the way, you can't just wave your hand in the general direction of the fly (they just laugh). You have to make actual physical contact with the critter and even then, after you've dropped your hand, the bastard returns to the SAME SPOT as if his work there isn't done yet!
I put my sunglasses on to try to deter one beast from landing on my eyelashes. (Honestly, they love ANY orafice; eyes, ears, mouth. I'd hate the think what would happen on one of Australia's nude beaches.) Even though it's pretty hot outside, I'm afraid to lick my dry lips for fear that one of these insects will fly in and land on a molar!
I've had boyfriends who've tried to close to me like these flys, but the boyfriends gave up sooner! Attitude?!?! I've known Marines will less attitude!
Paint job
PERTH- - Take a large paint brush, dip it in fuscia paint and do the following: paint a wide downward-pointing triangle on your chest, then stripe down the left arm beginning at a point even with your armpit, including your left hand, add to that a skinny stripe beginning four inches below your right knee and ending just above your toes; lastly, take a bit deeper-colored paint and touch just the tip of your nose.
Now you have my "tan" after my lengthy chat with Carlos in the park.
Now you have my "tan" after my lengthy chat with Carlos in the park.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Chat in the park
PERTH - - I've just had the best conversation I've had all day. I'm sitting in a park in Northbridge, a northern suburb of Perth that's supposed to contain all the "happening" restaurants and clubs. So far, I've only come across one street with about four restaurants and as many clubs. Oh well.
A man approached me and (still in "big-city girl" mode) I was on guard. He said Hello and I said Hi. I couldn't place his thick accent but knew it was neither Australian or American.
He spoke slowly and I couldn't decide if he was mentally slow or possibly deranged (I think I've seen some of the latter here). Turns out, he's neither of those things. He's from Chile!
Carlos has lived in Australia for about 15 years, most of them in Perth. He named about 5 other Australian cities that he's called home. (I admit to being a bit jealous of that.)
"Why Perth?" I asked.
"Because it's the best place," he said. He then went on to explain that Perth has its own mafia (who knew?). Yep, I was thinking, "this is why it's the best??"
Perth is, however, very clean. As if to prove the point, a man cleaned the area under a huge tree in the park. Carlos and I watched him rake up every dead branch and dropped leaf. He worked for over an hour.
We sat quietly for a bit, admiring a sky that was so blue and bright it almost hurt our eyes. Carlos offered me a cigarette, but I declined. He said he loved my accent.
We spoke of life's general topics: money and the happiness that doesn't usually come with it; families and how to live with them; politics and how the "average Joe" doesn't usually agree with how his government behaves.
We agreed that its best to not judge a country by its government's actions, but rather by its people...the ones you meet in parks on sunny days.
A man approached me and (still in "big-city girl" mode) I was on guard. He said Hello and I said Hi. I couldn't place his thick accent but knew it was neither Australian or American.
He spoke slowly and I couldn't decide if he was mentally slow or possibly deranged (I think I've seen some of the latter here). Turns out, he's neither of those things. He's from Chile!
Carlos has lived in Australia for about 15 years, most of them in Perth. He named about 5 other Australian cities that he's called home. (I admit to being a bit jealous of that.)
"Why Perth?" I asked.
"Because it's the best place," he said. He then went on to explain that Perth has its own mafia (who knew?). Yep, I was thinking, "this is why it's the best??"
Perth is, however, very clean. As if to prove the point, a man cleaned the area under a huge tree in the park. Carlos and I watched him rake up every dead branch and dropped leaf. He worked for over an hour.
We sat quietly for a bit, admiring a sky that was so blue and bright it almost hurt our eyes. Carlos offered me a cigarette, but I declined. He said he loved my accent.
We spoke of life's general topics: money and the happiness that doesn't usually come with it; families and how to live with them; politics and how the "average Joe" doesn't usually agree with how his government behaves.
We agreed that its best to not judge a country by its government's actions, but rather by its people...the ones you meet in parks on sunny days.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sydney, mid 70s, sunny, breezy
It's noonish on Monday, Oct. 31 and I'm in Sydney, my favorite city on the planet. I've been here for about four hours.
And I've just been offered a job.
Actually, one of the concierges at my hotel realized how much I already know about Sydney and asked if I'd like have a job for a few days while I'm here. I told him I'm off to Perth tomorrow, but maybe I'll take him up on it when I'm back here in two weeks.
I'm sitting in a circular courtyard alongside Campbell's Cove (between the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the international cruise ship dock). Watching the tourists take turns posing for photos with the bridge or the Sydney Opera House in the background.
Gorgeous day. Gorgeous city.
Last week, on a bus ride to work, I purposefully sat in the sliver of sunshine that lit up a seat near me. I was hoping to warm myself on one of the first chilly days of autumn.
No luck. Light, but no heat. Like sitting in a room with a 60-watt lightbulb.
Here, in Sydney, I have light, heat and a pleasant breeze off the harbor to keep things from getting too hot.
They say that if you like Sydney, then you'll like Perth.
Well, Perth has some big shoes to fill.
And I've just been offered a job.
Actually, one of the concierges at my hotel realized how much I already know about Sydney and asked if I'd like have a job for a few days while I'm here. I told him I'm off to Perth tomorrow, but maybe I'll take him up on it when I'm back here in two weeks.
I'm sitting in a circular courtyard alongside Campbell's Cove (between the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the international cruise ship dock). Watching the tourists take turns posing for photos with the bridge or the Sydney Opera House in the background.
Gorgeous day. Gorgeous city.
Last week, on a bus ride to work, I purposefully sat in the sliver of sunshine that lit up a seat near me. I was hoping to warm myself on one of the first chilly days of autumn.
No luck. Light, but no heat. Like sitting in a room with a 60-watt lightbulb.
Here, in Sydney, I have light, heat and a pleasant breeze off the harbor to keep things from getting too hot.
They say that if you like Sydney, then you'll like Perth.
Well, Perth has some big shoes to fill.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Not your usual woman
(aboard Qantas flight 455 to Sydney)
Something is wrong with me. Something is ve-ry, ve-ry wrong with me. Here I am, on a flight to Australia, a grown woman on the verge of hitting the big 4-0. I am watching an inflight movie, "Fever Pitch," a movie about a rampant Red Sox fan and how his fandom affects his relationships.
Here I am, tearing up. I miss my Cubs and Wrigley Field. I understand rampant fandom and what it's like to have a "summer family."
I heard they re-made the end of the movie because the Red Sox won the World Series that year (2003). The movie credits rolled at the end with scenes of a championship parade not unlike the one I just witnessed in Chicago for the White Sox.
Yes, in this chest still beats the heart of the diehard Cub fan. No, I didn't become a White Sox fan to join the parade of bandwagon groupies.
At some point in the movie, the star offered this rationalization for his fandom, "It's good for your soul to invest in something you can't control."
Now there's an idea I can really get behind.
Go Cubs!
Something is wrong with me. Something is ve-ry, ve-ry wrong with me. Here I am, on a flight to Australia, a grown woman on the verge of hitting the big 4-0. I am watching an inflight movie, "Fever Pitch," a movie about a rampant Red Sox fan and how his fandom affects his relationships.
Here I am, tearing up. I miss my Cubs and Wrigley Field. I understand rampant fandom and what it's like to have a "summer family."
I heard they re-made the end of the movie because the Red Sox won the World Series that year (2003). The movie credits rolled at the end with scenes of a championship parade not unlike the one I just witnessed in Chicago for the White Sox.
Yes, in this chest still beats the heart of the diehard Cub fan. No, I didn't become a White Sox fan to join the parade of bandwagon groupies.
At some point in the movie, the star offered this rationalization for his fandom, "It's good for your soul to invest in something you can't control."
Now there's an idea I can really get behind.
Go Cubs!
Saturday, October 29, 2005
I love airports
I love airports. The anticipation of going someplace new and exciting. Or sometimes on the other side, the anticipation of seeing a friend or loved one from too long ago.
Sitting in the pre-boarding area at LAX, it's fun to guess the purpose behind each traveler's trips. There are the usual visits to grandma and grandpa, but the mid-40s guy with the 20-something Asian chick? What's their story? How about the Phillipino family that just popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and is using it to wash down crackers and sub sandwiches! WTF?!?!
A big part of the airport experience is the drama that unfolds at baggage claim. While there are several anonymous drivers holding up signs with names for business pick-ups, all I see are the single and (sometimes) married men who are eagerly awaiting the arrival of their lovers. Some of these men bear flowers and balloons. Someday I'd like to have someone anxiously waiting to pick me up at the airport with flowers and a kiss.
Someday.
Sitting in the pre-boarding area at LAX, it's fun to guess the purpose behind each traveler's trips. There are the usual visits to grandma and grandpa, but the mid-40s guy with the 20-something Asian chick? What's their story? How about the Phillipino family that just popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and is using it to wash down crackers and sub sandwiches! WTF?!?!
A big part of the airport experience is the drama that unfolds at baggage claim. While there are several anonymous drivers holding up signs with names for business pick-ups, all I see are the single and (sometimes) married men who are eagerly awaiting the arrival of their lovers. Some of these men bear flowers and balloons. Someday I'd like to have someone anxiously waiting to pick me up at the airport with flowers and a kiss.
Someday.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Congratulations World Series champs!
It's the day before I leave on vacation. Twenty-four hours before I jump on a plane and remove myself from this humdrum existence and insert myself into the fun, sun and party that is Australia.
But I'm not quite excited yet. Not in "vacation mode." It took a while, but today I finally figured out why I've been distracted.
Usually, my thoughts of baseball are long gone by late October thanks to my Cubs' habit of fading fast. But not this year. Chicago hasn't let go of its summertime distraction...long after the leaves have changed and t-shirts have been replaced by sweatshirts.
The Chicago White Sox have won the 2005 World Series! For the first time in 88 years, Chicago has a baseball champion and today was the official celebration in the Loop.
No, I haven't changed allegiances. I am still a true, blue Cub fan.
But I am also a baseball fan and can completely respect and appreciate what the White Sox have accomplished. The Sox played ball with passion (if not always intellect) and with the blue-collar, never-give-up attitude that the South Side of Chicago is known for.
During the baseball season, I've had an ongoing discussion/argument of baseball fandom with one of our management team, a fella who claims to be a diehard Sox fan. It's usually a bit of bickering of "my team is better" and "I can't believe what your team did last night." That type of thing. This guy grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago and periodically wears a gray and black tie with the Sox logo on it.
Did he wear the tie and/or a Sox hat the day after his team captured the World Series title?
No.
Did he wear a Sox jersey, hat or even a black shirt (for cryin' out loud!) today for the celebration?
No.
Did he join the thousands of Chicagoans in attending the wild, ticker-tape parade that rolled through downtown within 2 blocks of our office?
No.
The baseball fan that I am, I attended the rally that was held at the end of the parade route and then shuffled through ankle-deep ticker-tape to get back to work. I even grabbed a handful of shredded paper to keep as a souvenir along with World Series stories in the local newspapers. I know history when I see it.
I asked him why he didn't go to the celebration. Why he didn't wear a Sox jersey to work (on a casual Friday like today). He claimed that it was all band wagon stuff and that he's a true fan.
"But I've really held back. I've backed off. I really could've gone off on you. There's so much I could've said," he said. And then I realized it.
For him, being a true White Sox fan would have been to rip the Cubs for not winning anything (again!) and rip me for being a fan of a team that hasn't won a World Series since1908. For him, showing his Sox loyalty would have meant tearing down me and my team.
Wow! How sad. I wonder how many Sox fans feel that way. Or how many Cub fans feel that way about the Sox for that matter?
I am a Cub fan and I'm proud of my loyalty. But I've never said a word against the White Sox team or any other team that plays the game the way it SHOULD be played. I'm happy for the White Sox and proud that they could bring this kind of excitement to Chicago.
I don't think a fan is any less loyal to his or her team if they respect their opponent. On the contrary, isn't that a big part of the game? Respect for yourself, your team and your opponent. Wasn't that what they taught young boys in Little League?
Guys! Help me out here. Am I right or am I being naive to think that a fan can be a true baseball fan without belittling the other team?
Belittling the fans of the other team? Okay, that's another story.
But I'm not quite excited yet. Not in "vacation mode." It took a while, but today I finally figured out why I've been distracted.
Usually, my thoughts of baseball are long gone by late October thanks to my Cubs' habit of fading fast. But not this year. Chicago hasn't let go of its summertime distraction...long after the leaves have changed and t-shirts have been replaced by sweatshirts.
The Chicago White Sox have won the 2005 World Series! For the first time in 88 years, Chicago has a baseball champion and today was the official celebration in the Loop.
No, I haven't changed allegiances. I am still a true, blue Cub fan.
But I am also a baseball fan and can completely respect and appreciate what the White Sox have accomplished. The Sox played ball with passion (if not always intellect) and with the blue-collar, never-give-up attitude that the South Side of Chicago is known for.
During the baseball season, I've had an ongoing discussion/argument of baseball fandom with one of our management team, a fella who claims to be a diehard Sox fan. It's usually a bit of bickering of "my team is better" and "I can't believe what your team did last night." That type of thing. This guy grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago and periodically wears a gray and black tie with the Sox logo on it.
Did he wear the tie and/or a Sox hat the day after his team captured the World Series title?
No.
Did he wear a Sox jersey, hat or even a black shirt (for cryin' out loud!) today for the celebration?
No.
Did he join the thousands of Chicagoans in attending the wild, ticker-tape parade that rolled through downtown within 2 blocks of our office?
No.
The baseball fan that I am, I attended the rally that was held at the end of the parade route and then shuffled through ankle-deep ticker-tape to get back to work. I even grabbed a handful of shredded paper to keep as a souvenir along with World Series stories in the local newspapers. I know history when I see it.
I asked him why he didn't go to the celebration. Why he didn't wear a Sox jersey to work (on a casual Friday like today). He claimed that it was all band wagon stuff and that he's a true fan.
"But I've really held back. I've backed off. I really could've gone off on you. There's so much I could've said," he said. And then I realized it.
For him, being a true White Sox fan would have been to rip the Cubs for not winning anything (again!) and rip me for being a fan of a team that hasn't won a World Series since1908. For him, showing his Sox loyalty would have meant tearing down me and my team.
Wow! How sad. I wonder how many Sox fans feel that way. Or how many Cub fans feel that way about the Sox for that matter?
I am a Cub fan and I'm proud of my loyalty. But I've never said a word against the White Sox team or any other team that plays the game the way it SHOULD be played. I'm happy for the White Sox and proud that they could bring this kind of excitement to Chicago.
I don't think a fan is any less loyal to his or her team if they respect their opponent. On the contrary, isn't that a big part of the game? Respect for yourself, your team and your opponent. Wasn't that what they taught young boys in Little League?
Guys! Help me out here. Am I right or am I being naive to think that a fan can be a true baseball fan without belittling the other team?
Belittling the fans of the other team? Okay, that's another story.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Is it time to leave yet?
This time Saturday, I'll be winging my way to the West Coast en route to Australia. Yep, I'm going Down Under (I know that will excite some of you, but don't get too obscene!)
But this week has been truly bizarre. Kind of a "screw with The Writer before she leaves" type thing. Where do I begin?
My mom wanted to gather some of my siblings together to have a birthday dinner for me. Funny, in my 39 years on the planet, we haven't made that much effort. Needless to say, I declined.
I got a booty call (okay, I didn't ACT on it, but the call was received.)
Let me back up a bit...I attended a FABULOUS cocktail party at a ritzy suburban home last year at Christmastime. Since I didn't know anyone (not really) and the rich bitches at the party were being nasty to me, I stood by the bar and chatted up the pretty cute bartender.
By 2am, I had decided that I needed to go home. After all, I had to work in 6 hours! The neighborhood included a lot of very small curvy streets with very few streetlights so I wasn't sure how to get home. Bartender guy left around the same time as me and waited for me in the street. He offered to let me follow him to the on-ramp for the highway I needed to get home.
NOTHING HAPPENED!!!! (I could just tell that you guys were jumping ahead on this one!)
I gave him my business card and he called me a few times, but we never went out. He was too young, immature and bragged about all the "older women" he had slept with. Yuck!
Anyway, fast forward 10 months and he's calling me at 10pm on a school night. Apparently, he found my business card and decided to see "what I was up to." (Isn't that code?)
We talked for a bit and I discovered that he's moved to the city (renting a room! do real people actually do that? I thought only in old movies) and he's also an actor! Geez! Help me! Are there any adult men with steady jobs out there???
Needless to say, nothing will happen there. I didn't even keep his phone number.
Oh, one more thing. The Romanian martial arts teacher called me. I asked him if he was married and he said no, but he has a "friend." I asked if he has kids (since he loves teaching them so much). He hesitated but finally admitted that he has a baby.
He didn't think there was anything wrong with inviting me out for coffee or dinner. This sounded familiar. My European colleagues often got together for dinner or movies, even those of them that were married or "involved." The difference, however, is that the spouse/partner always knew us and often came along.
Romanian guy said he didn't want to hurt me (?) and doesn't think there's anything wrong with the invitation. (At the risk of sounding like a cultural enlightenment guru), I mentioned that in the future, it would be better if he owned up to having a girlfriend and baby before he invites single women to go out with him.
We'll see if I hear from him again...
Two guys calling me in one week. Boy! It's been too long since THAT happened. Wonder if Aussie guys are any better?
Oh, and YES, I do plan to post occasionally in Australia so stay tuned.
But this week has been truly bizarre. Kind of a "screw with The Writer before she leaves" type thing. Where do I begin?
My mom wanted to gather some of my siblings together to have a birthday dinner for me. Funny, in my 39 years on the planet, we haven't made that much effort. Needless to say, I declined.
I got a booty call (okay, I didn't ACT on it, but the call was received.)
Let me back up a bit...I attended a FABULOUS cocktail party at a ritzy suburban home last year at Christmastime. Since I didn't know anyone (not really) and the rich bitches at the party were being nasty to me, I stood by the bar and chatted up the pretty cute bartender.
By 2am, I had decided that I needed to go home. After all, I had to work in 6 hours! The neighborhood included a lot of very small curvy streets with very few streetlights so I wasn't sure how to get home. Bartender guy left around the same time as me and waited for me in the street. He offered to let me follow him to the on-ramp for the highway I needed to get home.
NOTHING HAPPENED!!!! (I could just tell that you guys were jumping ahead on this one!)
I gave him my business card and he called me a few times, but we never went out. He was too young, immature and bragged about all the "older women" he had slept with. Yuck!
Anyway, fast forward 10 months and he's calling me at 10pm on a school night. Apparently, he found my business card and decided to see "what I was up to." (Isn't that code?)
We talked for a bit and I discovered that he's moved to the city (renting a room! do real people actually do that? I thought only in old movies) and he's also an actor! Geez! Help me! Are there any adult men with steady jobs out there???
Needless to say, nothing will happen there. I didn't even keep his phone number.
Oh, one more thing. The Romanian martial arts teacher called me. I asked him if he was married and he said no, but he has a "friend." I asked if he has kids (since he loves teaching them so much). He hesitated but finally admitted that he has a baby.
He didn't think there was anything wrong with inviting me out for coffee or dinner. This sounded familiar. My European colleagues often got together for dinner or movies, even those of them that were married or "involved." The difference, however, is that the spouse/partner always knew us and often came along.
Romanian guy said he didn't want to hurt me (?) and doesn't think there's anything wrong with the invitation. (At the risk of sounding like a cultural enlightenment guru), I mentioned that in the future, it would be better if he owned up to having a girlfriend and baby before he invites single women to go out with him.
We'll see if I hear from him again...
Two guys calling me in one week. Boy! It's been too long since THAT happened. Wonder if Aussie guys are any better?
Oh, and YES, I do plan to post occasionally in Australia so stay tuned.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
It's a cultural thing
Remember the Romanian martial arts teacher and former exotic dancer??? Well, there's good news and bad news on that topic. The good news is that he called me on Saturday afternoon as I sat at Starbucks, sipping a chai tea and absorbing my baseball encyclopedia.
The conversation started awkwardly with him apologizing for bothering me, for taking up so much of my time on a weekend. (He wasn't bothering me.)
He also said he hoped it was okay that he called me. Um....why did he think I gave him my number if it wouldn't be okay for him to call me??? And how were we going to make the dinner plans (as he suggested) if he didn't actually call me?!?
This guy's got FLOOR MAT written all over him. Not a good sign. When will men realize that a lack of self-confidence is such a deal-breaker?
But the piece de resistance came today when I spoke to the Mexican ladies who introduced us at their party. They were busy at the party, but did notice that we seemed to be having a nice conversation. (I never told them about the date potential.)
In our conversation this morning, one of the ladies mentioned that martial arts teacher has a son who's about 6 months old. So I casually asked if his wife is Romanian too. No, apparently, she's Bulgarian or Hungarian or something like that.
Oh, did I mention that he never SAID ANYTHING ABOUT BEING MARRIED OR HAVING A CHILD!!!?!?!?
It sure would be easier if they just put "TAKEN" in a huge tattoo on their forehead!!
The conversation started awkwardly with him apologizing for bothering me, for taking up so much of my time on a weekend. (He wasn't bothering me.)
He also said he hoped it was okay that he called me. Um....why did he think I gave him my number if it wouldn't be okay for him to call me??? And how were we going to make the dinner plans (as he suggested) if he didn't actually call me?!?
This guy's got FLOOR MAT written all over him. Not a good sign. When will men realize that a lack of self-confidence is such a deal-breaker?
But the piece de resistance came today when I spoke to the Mexican ladies who introduced us at their party. They were busy at the party, but did notice that we seemed to be having a nice conversation. (I never told them about the date potential.)
In our conversation this morning, one of the ladies mentioned that martial arts teacher has a son who's about 6 months old. So I casually asked if his wife is Romanian too. No, apparently, she's Bulgarian or Hungarian or something like that.
Oh, did I mention that he never SAID ANYTHING ABOUT BEING MARRIED OR HAVING A CHILD!!!?!?!?
It sure would be easier if they just put "TAKEN" in a huge tattoo on their forehead!!
Friday, October 21, 2005
A dentist's dream
Yes, I was. And I can firmly, and without reservation, place the blame on at least one suburban institution: Packy's. It was-- and still is, I think -- an areawide distributor of pre-pubescent deviance.
It's a candy store. (You sickos! What did you THINK I was talking about?!?!)
A real wall-to-wall shop full of penny, three-cent, five-cent and (for the big spenders) 15-cent candies.
I thought of it because a colleague of mine brought in a family-sized bag of what SHOULD be Halloween candy. Yeah, right. Like it's going to last that long!
I'm chewing on Sweet Tarts right now, having already eaten my strawberry Laffy Taffy. I took a small selection which includes Bottle Caps and Runts (oooh! there are not one or two, but THREE bananas in the Runts!!)
My parents taught me to share, so I brought another small selection to other colleagues and the talk began of Charleston Chews, Marathon bars and Slo-Pokes.
Okay, the conversation actually started with Lik M' Ade. Remember the fruity-flavored powder that you ate from the pouch by licking the weird-tasting, plastic-looking and dipping it into the powder?
Do you remember the long strips of strawberry (or were they cherry) licorice that you'd tie in knots before you eat it? What was that called? How about the candy bracelets and necklaces?
How I have ANY teeth left in my head is one of my family's biggest mysteries.
I've heard there's an online candy store where these cheap thrills still exist. Does anyone know the website??
It's a candy store. (You sickos! What did you THINK I was talking about?!?!)
A real wall-to-wall shop full of penny, three-cent, five-cent and (for the big spenders) 15-cent candies.
I thought of it because a colleague of mine brought in a family-sized bag of what SHOULD be Halloween candy. Yeah, right. Like it's going to last that long!
I'm chewing on Sweet Tarts right now, having already eaten my strawberry Laffy Taffy. I took a small selection which includes Bottle Caps and Runts (oooh! there are not one or two, but THREE bananas in the Runts!!)
My parents taught me to share, so I brought another small selection to other colleagues and the talk began of Charleston Chews, Marathon bars and Slo-Pokes.
Okay, the conversation actually started with Lik M' Ade. Remember the fruity-flavored powder that you ate from the pouch by licking the weird-tasting, plastic-looking and dipping it into the powder?
Do you remember the long strips of strawberry (or were they cherry) licorice that you'd tie in knots before you eat it? What was that called? How about the candy bracelets and necklaces?
How I have ANY teeth left in my head is one of my family's biggest mysteries.
I've heard there's an online candy store where these cheap thrills still exist. Does anyone know the website??
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Things to do....
before I go:
- See all of the continents at least once
- Speak at least one other language fluently
- Write a novel and have it published
- Learn to express myself musically (singing or playing an instrument)
- Fall in love with someone WHO LOVES ME
- Learn how to tune up a car and do an oil change
- Find a satisfying, challenging and lucrative career
- Live, at least for a while, in another country
- Learn to golf reasonably well
- Fly first-class
- Live in a house w/a garden and a huge wrap-around porch
- Own shoes that were hand-made for me
- Do something worthy of a newspaper headline (an obit doesn't count)
- Be there when the Cubs win the World Series (maybe I'd settle for a pennant)
- Spend a weekend at a beach house (not in the Midwest, thank you)
- See my first love again
- Learn to swim (it's the underwater part that gets me)
- Have a hairstyle that both stylish and classic (and that I can recreate on a regular basis)
- Get one of my ideas patented or copyrighted or at least, sold
- Witness the miracle of birth
Bratty little Sox fans
My colleagues, several of whom couldn't name more than one White Sox player and think Ozzie Guillen is still the shortstop, are trying to instigate a dispute with me, a diehard Cub fan. The White Sox have won the American League pennant and are awaiting their rivals for the World Series, which begins this weekend. The Cubs are once again relegated to "waiting until next year" - - a phrase we coined, I think.
Trouble is....I don't care.
I leave for Australia in less than two weeks and for me, baseball season has been over for a few weeks now. I'm busy counting the days till Sydney and then Spring Training.
It reminds me of a situation a few years back with my ex-husband. It was a few weeks after we filed for divorce (amicably, I might add). We were riding an elevator to a courtroom where we could finalize things.
"I'm dating this girl and she told me that her ex-husband calls her Lucy, short for Lucifer," said the ex. (I suppressed the urge to laugh at the fact that my ex would be dating someone that reminds another person of the devil.)
"I have a nickname for you, too." He added, waiting anxiously for me to ask what possible monniker he could have for me when in the company of his (alcoholic, jobless, living-with-their-parents) friends.
A minute goes by...No answer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him squirm as he desperately wanted to impart this bit of information.
Just then, the elevator doors open and we arrive at the courtroom and the conversation-- the verbal poking-- is over.
Sox fans don't bug me, neither do ex-husbands.
Trouble is....I don't care.
I leave for Australia in less than two weeks and for me, baseball season has been over for a few weeks now. I'm busy counting the days till Sydney and then Spring Training.
It reminds me of a situation a few years back with my ex-husband. It was a few weeks after we filed for divorce (amicably, I might add). We were riding an elevator to a courtroom where we could finalize things.
"I'm dating this girl and she told me that her ex-husband calls her Lucy, short for Lucifer," said the ex. (I suppressed the urge to laugh at the fact that my ex would be dating someone that reminds another person of the devil.)
"I have a nickname for you, too." He added, waiting anxiously for me to ask what possible monniker he could have for me when in the company of his (alcoholic, jobless, living-with-their-parents) friends.
A minute goes by...No answer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him squirm as he desperately wanted to impart this bit of information.
Just then, the elevator doors open and we arrive at the courtroom and the conversation-- the verbal poking-- is over.
Sox fans don't bug me, neither do ex-husbands.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Cultural enlightenment
In my continuing effort to experience culture on a worldwide (or is it worldwise?) basis, I happily accepted an invitation to a birthday party for my Mexican friend's 9-year-old son. I missed the smashing of the pinata, but I was thrilled to enjoy a margarita and some sinus-blazing mole and chicken. Wonderful!!!
Since I'd already enjoyed my friend's hospitality at a previous function, I wasn't surprised to find myself once again, the token gringa. A great opportunity to practice my Spanish (I can't even claim high-school Spanish since I took French.)
To really expand the whole cultural thing, I found myself heading out the door after having made a tentative date with another non-Mexican party guest (actually, I think we might have been the ONLY non-Mexicans.) You're going to love this - - he's the birthday boy's martial arts teacher, he's younger than me (somewhere between 25-31) and he's Romanian. Oh, it gets better!! He used to be a clothing designer and an exotic dancer.
Now THAT's how you end a weekend!
Since I'd already enjoyed my friend's hospitality at a previous function, I wasn't surprised to find myself once again, the token gringa. A great opportunity to practice my Spanish (I can't even claim high-school Spanish since I took French.)
To really expand the whole cultural thing, I found myself heading out the door after having made a tentative date with another non-Mexican party guest (actually, I think we might have been the ONLY non-Mexicans.) You're going to love this - - he's the birthday boy's martial arts teacher, he's younger than me (somewhere between 25-31) and he's Romanian. Oh, it gets better!! He used to be a clothing designer and an exotic dancer.
Now THAT's how you end a weekend!
Friday, October 14, 2005
Tough choice
If I've been asked once, I've been asked a thousand times recently...
"If the White Sox play the Cardinals in the World Series, who would you cheer for?"
Before I answer, let me provide some background info for my friends from outside the US. The folks for whom baseball is that "American thing."
Yes, the White Sox are a Chicago team, the hometown heroes (for this season, anyway). But here's the thing about the White Sox: their fans are cretins. Drunken, violent, rude blemishes on the baseball fandom scene. White Sox fans don't attend Sox games and when they do, they scream obscenities at the Sox and beat up parents in front of their children. Okay, we're not even going to MENTION the whole run-on-the-field-and-beat-up-elderly-coaches thing.
'Nuff said.
The Cardinals? Well, let me give you the proper full name of the team from St. Louis? They are the Rat-Bastard St. Louis Cardinals.
I used to attend the Cubs-Cardinals series in St. Louis every year, but stopped after a weekend a few years ago due to the inhospitable nature of the surroundings.
The Busch Stadium announcer gave the St. Louis lineup and I waited for the Cubs lineup to be announced. His voice dripping with condescension, the announcer said "And now, for the Chi-ca-go Cuuuubs."
Later in the game, the flashy electronic scoreboard featured the shell game except with Cardinals hats (three hats, one ball hidden under a hat, the hats fly around and fans guess which hat the ball is hidden under). Fine. Mindless fun for the attention-span deficient in the crowd.
Next on the scoreboard was the Cubs version, Cardinals' style. Three Cub hats and one ball. Except where the hats flew wildly in the Cardinals' shell game, the Cub hats drifted in a humiliatingly (?) slooooow motion with arrows pointing to the correct hat as if to imply that the Cubs were incompetent and simple-minded.
I'm all for rivalries among fans. That's where it should be, between the fans of respective teams. The organizations should stay out of it. Because, as the saying goes, "sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug."
Back to the original question, "who would I cheer for if the White Sox and the Cardinals meet in the World Series?"
My answer? The Chicago Bears! (yep, I'll be a football fan.)
"If the White Sox play the Cardinals in the World Series, who would you cheer for?"
Before I answer, let me provide some background info for my friends from outside the US. The folks for whom baseball is that "American thing."
Yes, the White Sox are a Chicago team, the hometown heroes (for this season, anyway). But here's the thing about the White Sox: their fans are cretins. Drunken, violent, rude blemishes on the baseball fandom scene. White Sox fans don't attend Sox games and when they do, they scream obscenities at the Sox and beat up parents in front of their children. Okay, we're not even going to MENTION the whole run-on-the-field-and-beat-up-elderly-coaches thing.
'Nuff said.
The Cardinals? Well, let me give you the proper full name of the team from St. Louis? They are the Rat-Bastard St. Louis Cardinals.
I used to attend the Cubs-Cardinals series in St. Louis every year, but stopped after a weekend a few years ago due to the inhospitable nature of the surroundings.
The Busch Stadium announcer gave the St. Louis lineup and I waited for the Cubs lineup to be announced. His voice dripping with condescension, the announcer said "And now, for the Chi-ca-go Cuuuubs."
Later in the game, the flashy electronic scoreboard featured the shell game except with Cardinals hats (three hats, one ball hidden under a hat, the hats fly around and fans guess which hat the ball is hidden under). Fine. Mindless fun for the attention-span deficient in the crowd.
Next on the scoreboard was the Cubs version, Cardinals' style. Three Cub hats and one ball. Except where the hats flew wildly in the Cardinals' shell game, the Cub hats drifted in a humiliatingly (?) slooooow motion with arrows pointing to the correct hat as if to imply that the Cubs were incompetent and simple-minded.
I'm all for rivalries among fans. That's where it should be, between the fans of respective teams. The organizations should stay out of it. Because, as the saying goes, "sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug."
Back to the original question, "who would I cheer for if the White Sox and the Cardinals meet in the World Series?"
My answer? The Chicago Bears! (yep, I'll be a football fan.)
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Back to bed, let's start this day over
I just received the second of two calls from the same phone company asking for a guy who hasn't worked in our US office in almost 3 years! No big deal if it's a "cold" sales call, but this was regarding a trouble ticket on a T1 line (tech stuff, which we deal with, in a separate division of our company).
Not wanting to get one of our clients disconnected from us, I took the information. It gets increasingly stranger. The trouble ticket was opened by a guy (from an East Coast company, possibly a client) who gave a callback number. When the phone company rep tried to call him back, the rep was told they never heard of him!?!?
The East Coast guy gave my former colleague's name (RL) and our current phone number as the "on-site" contact person. RL has never worked at our current location, so that phone number never belonged to him.
(Are you starting to hear the Twilight Zone music??)
On a completely separate stage in our bizarre circus, another colleague just cancelled on a group dinner for Friday. It seems his wife's cousin was driving to work yesterday morning in a small town in Illinois and pulled over because he wasn't feeling well.
He was found dead of a heart attack. HE WAS 39!
Not wanting to get one of our clients disconnected from us, I took the information. It gets increasingly stranger. The trouble ticket was opened by a guy (from an East Coast company, possibly a client) who gave a callback number. When the phone company rep tried to call him back, the rep was told they never heard of him!?!?
The East Coast guy gave my former colleague's name (RL) and our current phone number as the "on-site" contact person. RL has never worked at our current location, so that phone number never belonged to him.
(Are you starting to hear the Twilight Zone music??)
On a completely separate stage in our bizarre circus, another colleague just cancelled on a group dinner for Friday. It seems his wife's cousin was driving to work yesterday morning in a small town in Illinois and pulled over because he wasn't feeling well.
He was found dead of a heart attack. HE WAS 39!
Going (away) for broke
I'm one of those people who tries to pay off her credit card every month. Annoying, isn't it? I get frequent flier miles from one credit card, so it's fun to see the miles pile up (and plan yet another trip to use them!).
A few days ago, I had a bit of a scare when I opened my Visa bill. AARRGGHH!! Twenty-seven hundred dollars?!?!?! OMG! Where the hell did THAT come from?
Okay, tickets for Cubs games, sure I can see that. I wish I could say that that was money well spent except that the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals and the "other" Chicago team are still playing! Yeesh!
But I digress..
Oh, now I see it. Plane tickets! And, what's this? Asiarooms.com? Hmmn..oh, that's where I made my hotel reservations for my three-city Australia trip. (I leave soon!!!)
Some people have a talent for music or for painting, I have a talent for shopping, online shopping. No, not eBay (not much anyway). I shop for travel deals. I guess it's no coincidence that I didn't travel much pre-Internet. Without these websites, I don't think I could afford to go anywhere and boy! would that make The Writer a freakishly dull person!
Travelzoo.com, Kayak.com, Globester.com - - you name it, I've been there. And yes, I also utilize print mags, mostly Budget Travel.
Aside from the coronary caused by the Visa bill, the travel planning is just how I'd like it to be. By the time I leave for my trip, I will have all of my flights and three of my four hotels already paid for!! Of course, I usually plan this trip several months in advance, so my credit cards don't melt, but I was quite slothlike this year.
Get the bills paid, get the packing done, hold the mail service, pre-pay mortgage, etc. etc. It's hurry up and wait.
Is it time to leave yet??
A few days ago, I had a bit of a scare when I opened my Visa bill. AARRGGHH!! Twenty-seven hundred dollars?!?!?! OMG! Where the hell did THAT come from?
Okay, tickets for Cubs games, sure I can see that. I wish I could say that that was money well spent except that the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals and the "other" Chicago team are still playing! Yeesh!
But I digress..
Oh, now I see it. Plane tickets! And, what's this? Asiarooms.com? Hmmn..oh, that's where I made my hotel reservations for my three-city Australia trip. (I leave soon!!!)
Some people have a talent for music or for painting, I have a talent for shopping, online shopping. No, not eBay (not much anyway). I shop for travel deals. I guess it's no coincidence that I didn't travel much pre-Internet. Without these websites, I don't think I could afford to go anywhere and boy! would that make The Writer a freakishly dull person!
Travelzoo.com, Kayak.com, Globester.com - - you name it, I've been there. And yes, I also utilize print mags, mostly Budget Travel.
Aside from the coronary caused by the Visa bill, the travel planning is just how I'd like it to be. By the time I leave for my trip, I will have all of my flights and three of my four hotels already paid for!! Of course, I usually plan this trip several months in advance, so my credit cards don't melt, but I was quite slothlike this year.
Get the bills paid, get the packing done, hold the mail service, pre-pay mortgage, etc. etc. It's hurry up and wait.
Is it time to leave yet??
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Thought for the day
I must admit that I saw this on a the blog of a young fellow in India. I guess location doesn't matter because we are all the same, no matter our area code or the color of our skin.
"To be popular, live your life so that a blind person would like you."
So much of acceptance is tied to appearance. It's unfair, but true. They say that attractive people make more money in their lifetimes. Geez! Who needs a master's degree when all a person really needs is a nose job?
"To be popular, live your life so that a blind person would like you."
So much of acceptance is tied to appearance. It's unfair, but true. They say that attractive people make more money in their lifetimes. Geez! Who needs a master's degree when all a person really needs is a nose job?
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Unintentional humor..
If I didn't already mention it, I'm a really good shopper. By that I mean, I'm often able to find really good deals. Case in point: I found 1,000 threadcount (!) sheets on a clearance sale on a website called Bluefly.com. Hell! I've never even HEARD of 1,000 threadcount! OOOH, the luxury! the softness!
Anyway, I bought two sets: one queen set for me and one king set for my 77-year-old mom (because I am such a good daughter and I think my mom deserves such luxury! and also, she's the only person I know with a king-sized bed). About my mom: she's old-school, widowed, married in the 1940s, very prim and proper, considers "crap" a swear word. My mom recently remodeled her bedroom, so I thought the new sheets would be perfect for the new look in her room.
I asked my mom if she's used the new sheets yet.
"Not yet," she said.
"Oh, you're waiting for a special occasion?" I asked semi-seriously.
"What would be a special occasion for sheets?" my mom asked in all seriousness, mulling over Christmas with a decorative bedspread.
"Umm..." Could I name names in front of my mom or would that be tacky?
Anyway, I bought two sets: one queen set for me and one king set for my 77-year-old mom (because I am such a good daughter and I think my mom deserves such luxury! and also, she's the only person I know with a king-sized bed). About my mom: she's old-school, widowed, married in the 1940s, very prim and proper, considers "crap" a swear word. My mom recently remodeled her bedroom, so I thought the new sheets would be perfect for the new look in her room.
I asked my mom if she's used the new sheets yet.
"Not yet," she said.
"Oh, you're waiting for a special occasion?" I asked semi-seriously.
"What would be a special occasion for sheets?" my mom asked in all seriousness, mulling over Christmas with a decorative bedspread.
"Umm..." Could I name names in front of my mom or would that be tacky?
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
um...what was the question again?
You know how you never come up with the appropriate response until the question is too far in the past?
Most of the men I'll meet from here on out will be divorced with children and the conversation will, no doubt, go something like this:
Me: "So, how many kids do you have?"
Him: "Two" (or three or whatever) And you?"
Me: "I don't have any."
Him: "Oh? Do you want to have kids?"
Me: "Can we have dinner first?"
If he doesn't laugh, it means, a) he left his sense of humor in the car or, b) he's freaked out at even the THOUGHT of having more kids or c) in his mind, he's jumped ahead to the MAKING kids part.
I'll let you know when/if I get to use this.
Most of the men I'll meet from here on out will be divorced with children and the conversation will, no doubt, go something like this:
Me: "So, how many kids do you have?"
Him: "Two" (or three or whatever) And you?"
Me: "I don't have any."
Him: "Oh? Do you want to have kids?"
Me: "Can we have dinner first?"
If he doesn't laugh, it means, a) he left his sense of humor in the car or, b) he's freaked out at even the THOUGHT of having more kids or c) in his mind, he's jumped ahead to the MAKING kids part.
I'll let you know when/if I get to use this.
Monday, October 03, 2005
No news is good news
Remember Teddy Bear? the Cubs employee with whom I had dinner not once but twice? (Sorry, but I had to write it with correct grammar to illustrate just how mismatched we were.)
I haven't heard anything from him and today is the day he drives back to Miami (where he lives WITH HIS PARENTS AT 43 YEARS OF AGE!!!!) He said that he prefers to drive at night, so he just stays up till about midnight or so and then takes off. Yeah, that's safe!
While they played in Houston, I left a voicemail message on his cell phone that went something like this, "Hi, it's xxxxx, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry things didn't work out with us, but I hope that doesn't mean we can't be friends. I know you've already got about a thousand friends in Chicago, but if you'd like one more, that would be great. If not, I guess I can understand that. Be safe driving home and have a good off-season. Bye."
You knew I'd HAVE to finish this, if not in person, at least on voicemail. And, actually, he was very interesting to talk to especially since he did almost ALL of the talking (including juicy stuff about his colleagues).
Of course, the only guy I've met in the last few years that has an interest in baseball and he turns out to be a Cro-Magnon. Are sports fans and educated men separate species or what?
I haven't heard anything from him and today is the day he drives back to Miami (where he lives WITH HIS PARENTS AT 43 YEARS OF AGE!!!!) He said that he prefers to drive at night, so he just stays up till about midnight or so and then takes off. Yeah, that's safe!
While they played in Houston, I left a voicemail message on his cell phone that went something like this, "Hi, it's xxxxx, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry things didn't work out with us, but I hope that doesn't mean we can't be friends. I know you've already got about a thousand friends in Chicago, but if you'd like one more, that would be great. If not, I guess I can understand that. Be safe driving home and have a good off-season. Bye."
You knew I'd HAVE to finish this, if not in person, at least on voicemail. And, actually, he was very interesting to talk to especially since he did almost ALL of the talking (including juicy stuff about his colleagues).
Of course, the only guy I've met in the last few years that has an interest in baseball and he turns out to be a Cro-Magnon. Are sports fans and educated men separate species or what?
A little light reading
My living room is illuminated by the lights of Wrigley Field although I know no game is being played there. The construction crews must be there, planning and scheduling the new bleacher seats that were finally approved.
For everyone else, it's fall. For me, it's the off-season. My plan for the next 190-odd days until Opening Day 2006 is to become a total baseball geek. Toward that end, I just bought the Cultural Encyclopedia of Baseball, an 888-page tome of baseball facts, figures and great stories. No, that was not a typo, it is almost 900 pages of minutae about my favorite sport.
Did you know that slugger Jose Canseco was voted to the All-Star team in 1990 despite HAVING NOT PLAYED AT ALL THAT YEAR DUE TO INJURY.
Another thing...when the Giants and the Dodgers moved out to the west coast in the 1950s, Major League Baseball instituted a rule that stated that in the event of a plane crash, the remaining teams would have to volunteer a player to make up for the missing team. MLB still have a version of this rules in the books somewhere. Just creeps me out thinking about it!
Okay, I'm a total dork.
One more....in the Venezuela winter leagues, the fans have been known to throw iguanas at the players! Maybe that's why our shitty centerfield Corey Patterson doesn't want to play winter ball!
How many more days till Spring Training?
For everyone else, it's fall. For me, it's the off-season. My plan for the next 190-odd days until Opening Day 2006 is to become a total baseball geek. Toward that end, I just bought the Cultural Encyclopedia of Baseball, an 888-page tome of baseball facts, figures and great stories. No, that was not a typo, it is almost 900 pages of minutae about my favorite sport.
Did you know that slugger Jose Canseco was voted to the All-Star team in 1990 despite HAVING NOT PLAYED AT ALL THAT YEAR DUE TO INJURY.
Another thing...when the Giants and the Dodgers moved out to the west coast in the 1950s, Major League Baseball instituted a rule that stated that in the event of a plane crash, the remaining teams would have to volunteer a player to make up for the missing team. MLB still have a version of this rules in the books somewhere. Just creeps me out thinking about it!
Okay, I'm a total dork.
One more....in the Venezuela winter leagues, the fans have been known to throw iguanas at the players! Maybe that's why our shitty centerfield Corey Patterson doesn't want to play winter ball!
How many more days till Spring Training?
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
And the rains came..
As I look out at the blue "L" flag that waves over the centerfield bleachers, it seems that today's rain-soaked loss was actually a fitting end to the Cubs' home season at Wrigley Field. Trailing 3-2 in the ninth inning, the Cubs managed to load the bases but couldn't squeeze in a single run and lost the final home game of the 2005 season.The Cub fans, thousands of whom joined yours truly in their seats despite the pouring rain, gave a collective sigh as yet another disappointing season nears its close.
This game was especially indicative of the inconsistent Cubs season; Mark Prior, one of our aces, hit one batter and walked two more to load the bases in the first inning (but miraculously emerged unscored upon); Derrek Lee, our top hitter, could not take advantage of the wind blowing out to center field and went homerless; Nomar Garciaparra, the former Red Sox icon and our substitute third baseman, threw away a routine groundball, giving away a run.
The only highlights for me were 1) the Wrigley Field groundscrew sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" in the seventh inning and 2) rookie pitcher Roberto Novoa was hazed by his teammates and appeared from the postgame locker room dressed in the white and gold robes and high hat of the pope!
It's hard to explain...this end-of-season sadness. Of course, it isn't nearly as shattering as in
2003 when the Cubs were in the playoffs. That year, it was exciting, thrilling...and heartbreaking.
The pieces never quite fit the puzzle for this year's team, so not qualifying for post-season isn't as disappointing as in 03. This feeling, this my-friends-are-all-going-on-vacation-without-me has become an annual melancholy for me. So much of my summertime fun is tied into days and nights at Wrigley Field.
For so many years now, I've watched the ivy turn from April's dead brown vines to thick, lush green in June and (in that magic/tragic season of 03) to October's red! Watching the grounds crew draw the foul lines on the field and the batter's box the old-fashioned way - -no automatic anything here! Hearing Wayne Messmer sing the national anthem (can we make a Wrigleyville home-rule law that states that no one else can sing it?)
And, of course, Wrigley Field would not be the same without the people who work there. The people who have become my 6-months-a-year friends. The security guards (with whom I've PROMISED to have a beer in the off-season), the ticket sellers, the beer guys (one of whom bought ME a beer today!) and of course, my favorite employee, my adopted Cubs grandma who works behind home plate. It's always hard to say goodbye to her, as she's in her mid-80s now and I always leave with the fear that next spring will start without her.
Well, my boys go to Houston now, to try to spoil the Astros' post-season hopes. And on Monday, they pack up and go home, wherever that may be. They scatter to the wind and in the spring, some will be back and some won't.
Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training in February 2006. I'll be there in March.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Me and Rudolph
Looking down at my polka dot tennis shoes (which I call my "Island of Misfit Toys shoes"), I remembered the story of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. Me and Rudy, we have a lot in common. We both want to be accepted and loved for who we are, not who people think we should be.
Allow me to explain...
Teddy Bear and I went out to dinner two nights in a row, both times to restaurants of my choice because his choice was not open. The first night, I fixed my hair the same way it was when he first saw me (a few hours earlier...hot day..needed a shower) and dressed nicely but not too fancy.
We had a nice time and he told me TONS about himself and his coworkers. The former sports writer in me was thrilled! He also told me several times how surprised he was about our meeting; he usually leaves work early and this time he stayed late; he'd never seen me at the game until that day; he usually eats at the park and didn't this time (the reason for our dinner). He was so pleasantly surprised that I called.
After talking to me for about an hour, he asked if I might be able to join him at a charity event that the Cubs were having in November. (Okay, he's planning a date 2 months in advance?!?!)
He wanted to go out again the next night and even offered to pick me up from work! (no thanks)
The next night, I wore my hair as I normally do with a bit of wave in it and I'll have to admit that I wasn't as dressed up as the first night. (Probably because I'd already decided that this relationship wasn't going anywhere).
I got into his car and he immediately asked if I cut my hair.
No.
But it looks a lot shorter.
That's because it's a bit wavy, but no I didn't cut it.
Really?
Yes.
I noticed that he was dressed nicer than I was. I apologized for not being so dressed up (but, jeez, it was a Monday night!). I told him I didn't want him to have to wait for me.
I hate being late.
That's okay, I would've waited.
(Does that mean that I should've dressed better? Or that he's not impatient? Or that he expected me to be more high-maintenance?)
Whatever, it was a nice evening. Well, as nice as it can be with a man with whom I'll have no future.
He mentioned that he has some friends coming into town over the weekend. I wasn't invited to join them. Kinda strange since he was already inviting me to a public event in November.
Anyway, I ran into him on Friday (did I mention that he lives in the building next door?) He said he'd call me later.
Friday night comes and goes. No call. Saturday comes and goes. No call. Went to both Cubs games and he saw me both times.
Sunday, I go to the Cubs game with Firecracker and as she and I are chatting with Security Guy after the game, Teddy Bear pulls up and chats with SG. (That's good because I pretended to be very involved airing out my umbrella and not seeing him.)
After TB drives away, SG (who originally set me up with TB) said that he told Teddy Bear how he's making SG look bad by not calling me. TB comes back with something about telling me he had friends in town. (Great! Now I look needy!)
Since we've only been out twice, we can't be expected to know each other's signals. When he says "later," that must mean later this week or next week or next lifetime. Who's to know?
I guess it doesn't really matter since I was planning to let this whole thing die a natural death in the off-season. And besides that, he seems to want me to fit this mold of the player's wife/girlfriend. Dressy outfits to baseball games, perfect long blond hair (in a rain delay??), always smiling and laughing (after a one-run loss?). Or maybe I'm just imagining that last one. I don't know.
I really don't think he'd dig the "Island of Misfit Toys shoes."
Allow me to explain...
Teddy Bear and I went out to dinner two nights in a row, both times to restaurants of my choice because his choice was not open. The first night, I fixed my hair the same way it was when he first saw me (a few hours earlier...hot day..needed a shower) and dressed nicely but not too fancy.
We had a nice time and he told me TONS about himself and his coworkers. The former sports writer in me was thrilled! He also told me several times how surprised he was about our meeting; he usually leaves work early and this time he stayed late; he'd never seen me at the game until that day; he usually eats at the park and didn't this time (the reason for our dinner). He was so pleasantly surprised that I called.
After talking to me for about an hour, he asked if I might be able to join him at a charity event that the Cubs were having in November. (Okay, he's planning a date 2 months in advance?!?!)
He wanted to go out again the next night and even offered to pick me up from work! (no thanks)
The next night, I wore my hair as I normally do with a bit of wave in it and I'll have to admit that I wasn't as dressed up as the first night. (Probably because I'd already decided that this relationship wasn't going anywhere).
I got into his car and he immediately asked if I cut my hair.
No.
But it looks a lot shorter.
That's because it's a bit wavy, but no I didn't cut it.
Really?
Yes.
I noticed that he was dressed nicer than I was. I apologized for not being so dressed up (but, jeez, it was a Monday night!). I told him I didn't want him to have to wait for me.
I hate being late.
That's okay, I would've waited.
(Does that mean that I should've dressed better? Or that he's not impatient? Or that he expected me to be more high-maintenance?)
Whatever, it was a nice evening. Well, as nice as it can be with a man with whom I'll have no future.
He mentioned that he has some friends coming into town over the weekend. I wasn't invited to join them. Kinda strange since he was already inviting me to a public event in November.
Anyway, I ran into him on Friday (did I mention that he lives in the building next door?) He said he'd call me later.
Friday night comes and goes. No call. Saturday comes and goes. No call. Went to both Cubs games and he saw me both times.
Sunday, I go to the Cubs game with Firecracker and as she and I are chatting with Security Guy after the game, Teddy Bear pulls up and chats with SG. (That's good because I pretended to be very involved airing out my umbrella and not seeing him.)
After TB drives away, SG (who originally set me up with TB) said that he told Teddy Bear how he's making SG look bad by not calling me. TB comes back with something about telling me he had friends in town. (Great! Now I look needy!)
Since we've only been out twice, we can't be expected to know each other's signals. When he says "later," that must mean later this week or next week or next lifetime. Who's to know?
I guess it doesn't really matter since I was planning to let this whole thing die a natural death in the off-season. And besides that, he seems to want me to fit this mold of the player's wife/girlfriend. Dressy outfits to baseball games, perfect long blond hair (in a rain delay??), always smiling and laughing (after a one-run loss?). Or maybe I'm just imagining that last one. I don't know.
I really don't think he'd dig the "Island of Misfit Toys shoes."
Monday, September 19, 2005
Weirdness is all its forms
Am I in the right office? What's going on here? It's past noon and so far everyone here has been polite, friendly and downright HELPFUL! What's up with this? Am I dying and no one told me? Have I been fired??
OMG, someone just said "thank you!"
This is freaking me out.
Actually, the past 24 hours have been pretty weird. Not the tiniest of weirdness is that fact that I had a DATE!! last night! Yep, don't faint, but a guy saw me outside Wrigley Field yesterday and gave his phone number to a mutual friend and asked that I call him. (yes, we're back in high school.)
More out of curiosity than anything else, I called him. He seemed nice, but a bit rough around the edges (uses words like "ain't"). Okay, so I'm a grammar snob, sue me.
He suggested I come over to his place (he lives in the building NEXT DOOR!) I declined, but offered to go someplace for a drink. He asked if I'd eaten dinner yet, since I hadn't we agree to grab something to eat.
Of course, I didn't know what he looked like, so this could've been problematic. I peeked in the window of the white Cadillac Escalade that pulled up outside my building and he's: a few years older, but not much; dark hair and goatee; kinda teddy bear-shaped.
The restaurant he chose was closed (Sunday night), so it was up to me to pick a place. I found a tiny cafe that's hidden under a Gold Coast apartment building. It was quiet with (I hoped) decent food.
My friends know that I am never at a loss for words (to put it nicely), but this guy is positively chatty. I learned quite a bit about him, but apparently I didn't bore him because he wants to go out again tonight. He even offered to pick me up from work because he doesn't work today.
Oh, did I mention that his employer is my favorite baseball team?
OMG, someone just said "thank you!"
This is freaking me out.
Actually, the past 24 hours have been pretty weird. Not the tiniest of weirdness is that fact that I had a DATE!! last night! Yep, don't faint, but a guy saw me outside Wrigley Field yesterday and gave his phone number to a mutual friend and asked that I call him. (yes, we're back in high school.)
More out of curiosity than anything else, I called him. He seemed nice, but a bit rough around the edges (uses words like "ain't"). Okay, so I'm a grammar snob, sue me.
He suggested I come over to his place (he lives in the building NEXT DOOR!) I declined, but offered to go someplace for a drink. He asked if I'd eaten dinner yet, since I hadn't we agree to grab something to eat.
Of course, I didn't know what he looked like, so this could've been problematic. I peeked in the window of the white Cadillac Escalade that pulled up outside my building and he's: a few years older, but not much; dark hair and goatee; kinda teddy bear-shaped.
The restaurant he chose was closed (Sunday night), so it was up to me to pick a place. I found a tiny cafe that's hidden under a Gold Coast apartment building. It was quiet with (I hoped) decent food.
My friends know that I am never at a loss for words (to put it nicely), but this guy is positively chatty. I learned quite a bit about him, but apparently I didn't bore him because he wants to go out again tonight. He even offered to pick me up from work because he doesn't work today.
Oh, did I mention that his employer is my favorite baseball team?
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