The case of the missing artwork

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whew!

An American bride...and a Spanish groom

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

Of course, it isn't always our choice.

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

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

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

And now it's his turn.

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

Hmmmnn... Which wedding to go to?

Another update on FA

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

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

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

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

Go Cubs! BRRRR!!!

Update on folks I know...

specifically, guys I know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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

Without further delay, my new master bedroom!!

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

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

Two bricks of cream cheese? Check.

One bunch of scallions? Check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No charge!

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

I ignore them.

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

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

Busted.

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

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

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

I smiled.

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

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

Oops, almost forgot.

The famous Cheese Ball

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

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

A txt from afar

Well, color me surprised?!??!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come fly with me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look! A bunny thong!"

A bridal blast from the past

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nope, it's not about money.

Maybe I'm underestimating the importance of our friendship?

Close, personal friends...or not

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's how we met the boys.

La Vie en Rose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dinner with the King

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

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

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

How busy?

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

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

Yup, that's crazy busy!

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

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

I get tired just thinking about it.

Wanted: real fans

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

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

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

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

Attendance: 38,802.

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

Sox lose! Sox lose! Sox lose.

Attendance: 37,591.

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

Here's the sad but true kicker...



THERE ARE STILL TICKETS AVAILABLE!

Friends...with no benefits

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

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

THIS IS NOT GOING THERE.

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

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

I'll keep you posted.

The other shoe has dropped

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wingman schwingman

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

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

And then....


NOTHING!!

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

Friend of a friend of a friend

In keeping with a tradition begun in college, I started my weekend last night with a "girls night out." Actually, it was a bit more organized than just a few chicks- - try more than 20!! Congrats, by the way, to Violet and Firecracker for putting together such a wonderful gathering.

Ladies (and guys, for that matter): do all of your friends know each other??

Each of us has friends from different segments of our life, from our workplace or our school or our hobbies. Their only common thread is us.

Or is it??

Among the women I met were: a media relations executive who's dating a CNN reporter; a colleague of an ex-boyfriend of mine; a young woman who wants to get a beach volleyball team together with me.

So much in common and yet, so much more to share!

I hope we do more of these.

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

In other news...

Lion King is joining me and my gang for a singles mixer tonight! He said he's looking forward to "hanging out with me and my posse."

He emailed me earlier this week and asked what I do for a living. Said it was "marketing information" because he's going to be my wingman. I told him that men don't really care WHAT a woman does for a living unless she's a stripper or a porn star!

On the remodeling front, I've decided on Brazilian Koa (also called tiger wood - - no kidding!) for my floor. Unfortunately, it does not come as a floating floor so basically we're talking about a bunch more time, labor and, of course! $$$

Oh, and for those that read the last post regarding my mother's artistic talent, yes, I did buy a watercolor painting kit to give her for Easter (all together now - - awww!)

Getting to know you

In my ongoing attempt to skim days off my time in Purgatory, I treated my mother and brother to a live show in downtown Chicago yesterday. Afterwards, we all went to dinner at a nearby steakhouse.

My mother lives in the suburbs but loves to come downtown, whether it's to see the storefront lights at Christmastime or a rare dinner/show with me. I think the excitement of city life reminds her of her younger days when she and my father used to attend cocktail parties, looking every bit the socialite couple of the '50s.

Relaxing with a pre-dinner old-fashioned (that's a drink, folks), my mother began to talk about her childhood. Since she was 36 years old when I was born, these rare insights are always wonderful surprises for me.

My mother recently returned from a visit to her sister who lives in Florida. My aunt has, in the last few years, taken up sketching and painting. She's pretty good, too, at least to my untrained eye. I've got a few note cards that are adorned with her artwork.

It seems that as a child, my mother loved art and was, in fact, offered a three-month scholarship to the Art Institute! Her parents, realizing the impracticality of a daughter leaving a job during the Depression to study art, denied her this opportunity.

"I guess God took my talent and gave it to my sister," my mom said.

Half-full or half-empty?

I awoke today to the ringing of my cell phone. It was my contractor, letting me know that he had just left the security desk in my building where he had dropped off a sample of a wood called cherry betula. I'm supposed to look at it and decide if I'd like to substitute that for the cracked bamboo flooring.

I looked at the clock. 7:10 am CRAP!!! My alarm didn't go off!

A near miss...

After rushing to get dressed for work, I surprised myself by actually remembering to leave from the front entrance so I could pick up the wood sample. (I often leave through the garage.)

Although I live in a big building, the security guard remembered me and told me that I had a package there, too. She handed it to me. The package arrived the previous day, but the notice didn't arrive in my mailbox until late last night. If she hadn't remembered, I wouldn't have received the package till tonight. No biggie, right?

The package contained my corporate tax return which is DUE TODAY!

Another near miss...

Am I being blessed with lucky coincidences or just barely avoiding catastrophe?

A day (or four) in the sun

Highlights from Spring Training 2006:

• Relief pitcher Roberto Novoa signing autographs, completely unaware that he's tucked his designer shirt into his (no doubt) designer underwear! Okay, maybe I shouldn't pick on him since he's currently suffering from the flu.
• Our Little Lost Cub: Matt Murton seemed a bit lost when Firecracker and I saw him arrive at the Peoria Sports Complex. We were standing on an overpass above the tunnel to the outfield when the Cubs' red-haired left fielder drove up. He walked past the now-empty team bus (apparently, only the scrubs ride the bus!) and turned toward a few open garage doors that enclosed the field maintenance equipment. He turned left. He turned right, stopped and looked around. "It's that way, Matt!" we shouted, pointing toward the tunnel. "Uh, thanks," said Murton with a wave.
• A few minutes after the Murton encounter, after the rest of the team had already begun stretching on the outfield grass, Cubs closer Ryan Dempster arrived. For once, I actually thought of something clever to say. "It figures that the closer would be the last one to show up!" He laughed and waved.
• While celebrating Firecracker's birthday at a cool little nightclub, yours truly almost GOT LUCKY! I saw almost only because I declined the opportunity but the situation definitely makes the highlight reel of this year's Spring Training trip because my potential paramour was an Arizona State University frat boy!!! Yes, indeed! Firecracker and I were propositioned (well, she didn't know it because her attention was elsewhere) by college boys! Honestly, I didn't realize it was THAT dark in there! ;-)
• An elderly man sat in front of Firecracker and I at one of the games. He sat there, in the shade behind home plate, with a chair cushion on his seat and another on the seat next to him. Sometime in the early innings, he got up and walked carefully down the stairs. A few minutes later we spotted him at the bottom of the steep cement stairs, helping his wife gingerly and oh-so-slowly climb the mountain that would bring them to their ballpark perch. The man had one hand on his wife's back and the other on her butt, carefully guiding her up each step. When they reached us, he helped lower her into her seat, using one hand to pull her sweater down over her butt just before she sat. Firecracker and I smiled at the scene. That's what I'm waiting for, someone to push my butt up the stairs.
  

25 days till Cubs Home Opener!!!

The battle of the bamboo

I realized that it's been awhile since I updated my loyal readers (both of you!) on the status of "Project Beach House."

The bamboo hardwood floor has been installed, the new custom-made oak closet doors have been hung, the sunny yellow painting has been done and I've spent waaaay too much time peeking in to admire the beautiful sanctuary that is now MINE!

Truth be told, I've been hearing odd popping noises coming from the still-empty bedroom. (It'll remain empty until the hallway - - a last-minute addition - - is completed.) It's not a repetitive sound like a clock ticking, just every once in a while and just loud enough to make me jump.

Is the room haunted?? Are the closet doors snapping off their hinges? Is the paint bubbling up and popping from some unseen heat source?

Oh, how I wish it was that easy!

Determined to discover the source of the mystery clatter, I tiptoed into the bedroom one sunny morning and squatted down and studied the individual planks of bamboo. And there it was, just as I feared.

A crack. And another one. And another one.

My heart sank.

Tiny cracks - -some only an inch long, some more than a foot - - appear on more than half of my brand-new bamboo planks.

My contractor, Polish Boy, came over and agreed with my assessment.
"Shit," if I can quote him.

The materials have a 30-year warranty and his work is guaranteed for one year, so now the battle begins. PB will call the distributor and discuss replacing the materials...

Oops, excuse me. PB just called me to discuss the latest chapter of my remodeling nightmare.

He plans to send a registered letter to the distributor (who has NOT called him back) and demand a refund for the materials. In the meantime, he asked me to look at samples of another manufacturer's floors and pick a new floor. He'll credit the amount I've already paid for the bamboo towards the new floor.

Trouble is, the new manufacturer does not offer bamboo and I kinda had my heart set on that. Oh well, maybe I'll like Brazilian cherry or something else tropical.

Lion King (the sequel)

Having lost two of three of our final regular season volleyball games last night, my team and I retreated to our favorite watering hole to drown our sorrows. During the walk over, one of the two married teammates mention that one of my other teammates took a liking to Firecracker when she filled in last week.

Hmmn??? Which teammate, I wondered? Was it Lion King? He's always so friendly to everybody that it's hard to distinguish between innocent bon homie and real flirting. Apparently, Lion King is great at talking to women but horrible at "closing the deal," as Married Teammate (MT) put it.

Lion King, Teacher and I sat at one end of our long table and since we are all single, the conversation inevitably turned to dating. I had previously invited both men (intelligent, over 35, employed) to a singles event that I attended with some girlfriends. LK apologized for not receiving the email in time to respond, but promised to make good on the next invitation.

And then the questions began...

"So, if we're going to be your wingmen, what kind of guy do you like?" asked LK.
So, I'm going to have two men finding dates for me? This could be interesting.

Over the next two hours and definitely more than two pitchers of beer, the questioning continued.

"What physical type? Tall? Short? Heavy? Somebody that works out?" LK and I have compared workouts in prior beer-fests. He's been working out since he was 16.

"I know you don't smoke, but would you date a smoker?"

Okay, that's when I got suspicious (so shoot me, I'm not too quick on the pickup--pun intended).
LK smokes.

"You said that you'd like a guy to be able to talk about his interests, things he's passionate about, right? For most of the season, I didn't know what LK did for a living because all he talked about was his volunteer work.

"What would be a romantic date?"
I had to mention that the idea of "romantic" is different for everyone.
"No, I mean YOU! What do YOU think would make a romantic date?"

Uh-oh! Did I mention that we've been drinking beer this entire time??

Long story short...we all walked back to our cars and said good night.

Deal left very much open.

Justice served

The shot of the night at last night's volleyball game belonged to Firecracker, who filled in for a missing teammate. While she hasn't played volleyball in a long time, Firecracker did just fine (especially since she was coming straight from her tennis class...okay, we stopped at a bar before the game, but that's another matter).

In a common miscue for our team, she shanked a serve receive onto the neighboring court, hitting another player in the back of the neck. The neighboring player was clad in not only black elbow pads, but a black sweatband and black GLOVES!!! He wasn't hurt, but you'd think he was shot by a rifle the way his body shook from the impact.

My team fell over themselves laughing at this goofball. In past games against his team, my gang realized that he takes his volleyball a bit TOO seriously and was the perfect target for our rookie ringer to hit.

If not for the fact that Firecracker injured her wrist with the double shot of sports activity last night, it would've been the perfect warmup to our Spring Training trip which begins TOMORROW!!!!

Okay, so she'll have to drink her beer left-handed...

...make me a match

One of the girls in our "girls night out" suggested that I go on a blind date with her boss.

It used to be that I would never even CONSIDER a blind date, but having had just five dates in all of 2005, I've loosened up on that rule.

The "boss" is described as a huge Cubs fan (good), works out a lot (good), 52 years old (not ideal, but not horrible), bald (ditto) and "kind of like a dad" (um, ..what??). It occurred to me that Matchmaker, being all of 26 or 27, might consider fatherhood the final nail in the coffin where romance is concerned.

Matchmaker and I only met through a mutual friend that evening, so she really doesn't know anything about me (except for my age). What would make her think that her boss and I would make a good match?

Another of our girls gave me Matchmaker's cell phone number and suggested I call and ask about her boss. I haven't called yet because I'm afraid that Matchmaker might consider anyone over 40 as dead and buried so they'd match up just fine (like all-white gym socks thrown together in a drawer.)

I was thinking about the blind date possibility this morning over my coffee. I mentioned the situation to my Mexican friends at the counter of my usual breakfast place and apparently the customer at the end overheard me.

Getting up to leave, the woman, a senior citizen who not long ago was beautiful, tapped me on the arm and said, "After two marriages and two love affairs, I met the love of my life at 50 on a blind date. Then he died and I haven't met anyone since.

"It's one night out of your life. Go!"

At least I could make the call...

Thoughts for the day

Random thoughts on a boring Wednesday...

- Is 40 too old to be sending an older brother a birthday card containing the word "fart"?

- USA Channel is featuring an interesting men's Olympic hockey game between the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Whaddya wanna bet these guys shared a backyard fence up until a few years ago?

- The absolute best present for a woman after a bitter divorce battle can be found here.

- Milka and Lindt make the absolute BEST CHOCOLATE EVER!!! This came to mind today because one of my wonderful co-workers (they aren't all wonderful, but this one is) brought me a surfboard-sized slab of Milka from Germany.

- What's the best way to announce the grand re-opening of a newly renovated bedroom? (And try not to get me flagged by the blogger police, will ya??)

Game on!

Firecracker and I met up with a group of other single gals for a "girls night out" on Friday. The original plan was to attend a singles mixer but that ended up as a bust because the event was an estrogen tsunami with a measly dozen men in attendance.

Ah...spring.
Temperatures go up, hemlines go up, libidos go up. Oh, and it's baseball season. In spring there are endless opportunities, boatloads of potential and no crushed feelings...yet.

At our second (and last) stop of the evening, I saw a potential suitor arrive with his wingman. He had already secured a cocktail and was heading to the middle room of the bar. It's been a while and my form might be rusty but I was willing to step in and take a few swings.

The stats on this guy looked good: over 30, never been married, a bit over 6-feet tall, good smile, nice hair, owns his own home...and he's a lawyer! Wingman jumped in with some Jerry Maguire-like PR, informing me that this guy OWNS the law firm where he works.

"Wow! He hit that one a mile!!"

Okay, so the guy has some money. That's nice. It would be a nice change of pace to date a man who doesn't consider pizza and a movie a "fancy evening." He probably owns more than one suit, too. (So I like my guys to look nice, so sue me!...pardon the pun)

But is that all there is to him?
No.

Is he the endangered species of man known as sports fan?
Yes!

Does he like to travel?
Yes, he owns a boat!

More importantly, is he interested in me or just waiting for something better to walk by??
Um, well...I've never been called a "minx" before. I'll take that as a good sign.

"This guy has future all-star written all over him."

As the night wore on, my friends decided to hang 'em up since the talent pool had diminished significantly. In the other room, the Lawyer became increasingly drunk. Strangely enough, I was sober from the alcohol, but drunk on the attention. Soon, the Lawyer was sitting on a stool with his arms around my waist (yay!! for my sexy, hot, fuzzy sweater!)

"So, I'm 32. How old are you?"

"I'm 40." I answered, backing away a bit to see his reaction.

"That's great. I love older women. I always go out with older women."

"Oooh, hit by the pitch! That's gonna leave a mark."

The evening went downhill from there. It was pretty clear to me that the Lawyer wasn't so much looking to begin a relationship as he was trying to jump-start a booty call.

As a veteran of the game, I know the importance of a good nights' sleep, so I jumped in a cab - alone- and wrote off the evening as good practice for what could be a very exciting season.

Don't bet on it

My volleyball team played last night, as they do every Wednesday evening. I'm considering my team participation an additional workout every week and so far its been lots of fun, if not terribly successful (we kinda suck.)

Besides the usual banter on the court, there is usually at least a round of beer and pizza following the game (okay, sometimes BEFORE the game), so it's a nice addition to my somewhat limited social engagements.

My team is made up mostly of single people between the ages of 21-mid 40s and there are eight of us, including one married couple. Two of the single guys (40-somethings) often bemoan their unattached status, so the rest of us try to hook them up. So far, no luck.

One guy (I'll call him Lion King) is always very complimentary on the court ("nice shot") and he does a lot of volunteer work. A very nice guy. He recently broke up with an evil bitch who cheated on him with one of his friends. Surprisingly enough, he's not bitter about it and eager to meet someone new.

I know what you're thinking....why doesn't The Writer flirt with him a bit and see if he's interested??

Two reasons:

1) He smokes, and

2) He's a St. Louis Cardinals fan.

Last night, the post-game conversation turned to baseball and yours truly opened with comments about the Cubs' off-season acquisitions.

Juan Pierre: great.
Jacques Jones: not so much.

Lion King countered with praise for the rat-bastard Cardinals' moves. (okay, he didn't call them rat-bastard. I did.)

He offered to bet me that his team will finish with a better regular season record than my Cubs. Oh, now you're in trouble! Fine, you want to bet me?? Sure, I'll take that bet!

I'm thinking about how much money I would be willing to take from him without seeming greedy. I'm sure I could use an extra $25 or $50 come October.

Lion King says, "Let's bet dinner at a nice restaurant. Loser pays."

Um....what?

Remodeling plan III: the destruction

I couldn't decide if I should look inside my bedroom while it's under construction, but since I really hate surprises, I had to peek.

Inside I saw a bare cement floor where once had been dingy gray carpeting. A long trench had been cut into the wall to hide the electrical line running from an outlet to my closet. (I still shake my head at my stupidity for allowing that cheap-ass electrician to leave the wire outside the wall, claiming that he couldn't get into the wall.)

The look I'm going for is "beach house." Wood floor and light walls make me think of summer, sun, ocean...all the things I don't have in winter in Chicago.

In three distinct blotches, I had painted varying hues of yellow named, curiously enough Confident, Decisive and Cheerful. The time was quickly approaching when I had to make my color choice.

Confident did not inspire confidence. It looked too much like mustard.

Decisive is nice, but I can't decide.

Cheerful caught my eye originally, but once I put it on the wall, it looked a bit orange. And "cheerful" isn't exactly the mood I want in a bedroom.

Does Sherwin Williams sell a color called "come-up-for-air-in-three-days sex?"

Speaking of my bed, it's become a queen-sized, pillow-topped island in the middle of my living room. Funny how a change in scenery can disrupt a relatively normal bodily function like sleep. I've had a lot of trouble sleeping there this week. Is there anything in the feng shui rules about having my bed face a 27-inch TV?

Respect...who gets it and who wants it

CNN has just broadcast the World Series champion White Sox team press conference with President Bush at the White House. Funny thing is, brand-new U.S. citizen and Sox manager Ozzie Guillen chose to stay on vacation with his family and not attend the ceremony.

Another player was on his honeymoon and a third was being feted in his native Japan. Apparently, only 23 of the invited 30 White Sox players chose to attend the festivities.

Respect.

Bush congratulated everyone from the trainers to the announcers (with a playful slam at Ed Farmer, announcer and former White sox pitcher) to Harold Baines, one of the Sox coaches and a former White Sox outfielder.

Bush thanked Harold Baines for always bringing class to the ballpark. Eventually, the president got around to congratulating the actual TEAM.

Respect.

Then CNN cut back to its announcer and she could not name a SINGLE White Sox player. After consulting with the 20 men in her control room, FINALLY her director named Jermaine Dye and Paul Konerko.

Respect.

Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training on Wednesday!

Stirrups but no cowboy

So there I am at my gyno's office for my 'poke n' prod.' This is my first appointment with him since I spotted him at my gym. Is he going to mention it? And if he does, will he be able to resuscitate me when I faint from embarassment??

Since I haven't been his patient for too long, there has never been a "full exam" in his office...till now.

Exactly how do you have a friendly conversation with a cute, single man whose hands are on your breasts and one of you has entirely too many clothes on??? Apparently, you keep the topic to purely medical things.

He's not a sports fan (we'd already established this), but we did a bit of banter on the Super Bowl while he gave me a pelvic. Oh yay!

So far, so good.

He asked about my plans for Spring Training and I explained that Firecracker and I have everything all set. Although he's not a sports fan, he does love to go to games at Wrigley Field. (Oh great! Another place to run into him.)

At the end of the appointment, he mentioned that if all of the tests are normal, I can go back to my yearly appointments instead of the half-yearly ones we've been having the last 18 months or so.

"Yep, seeing each other every six months, people could begin to talk," I joked. He laughed!

"Well, guess I'll see you next year," I said, anticipating normal test results.

"Actually, you might see me more often than that. You work out at that Multiplex, right?"

I tried to act surprised as I looked into his huge cornflower blue eyes, "Um, yeah."

"Yeah, I've seen you there."

OMG, does this mean I have to talk to him when I see him at the gym?!?! Are we going to be workout buddies or something?!?!?

Beer, chili, football and lip gloss

Like I always say, if you're not tired on Monday, you didn't have a good weekend...

Action Girl and J graciously hosted a Super Bowl party in their fabulous newly finished basement with tons of food and drink and wonderfully fun and interesting people. Of course, I parked my keister on the front-row-for-football-action sofa and watched the game.

In a scene that told more about today's women than any article I've read lately, the sofa was entirely populated by WOMEN!! And we were watching the game! Understanding and enjoying the football game! Firecracker, Cat and other women joined the party (okay, there were guys there too) and we had a great time, chowing down chili and sipping beers. A regular guys' night out.

What were the guys doing while the game was on?? Mostly throwing darts and drinking shots. Maybe their lack of interest was due to the fact that most of the guys were not American, but I'm not sure.

Yes, the emotional girly side of us did emerge during some of the commercial breaks, especially during one Budweiser commercial (what is it with the beer companies that they usually have the BEST commercials??).

For me, it was the Bud commercial with the baby Clysdale trying to pull the beer cart. (I won't tell you how it turns out, in case you haven't seen it.)

And props!! to Dove Soap for making a thoughtful ad about a serious subject (the body image difficulties faced by young girls). Maybe they knew about the population of our sofa??

Oh, and Pittsburgh won what turned out to be a pretty lackluster Super Bowl game. The highlight for me was local boy Antwaan Randle El serving up that touchdown pass on the reverse to seal the Seahawks' coffin. Guess it's no surprise that he was a quarterback in high school and college.

So that was then, this is now.

My Monday will come to a close with a check-up appointment with my doctor. Yep, this will be the first meeting since I saw him at my gym. If he mentions it, I think I'll just pass out (that's the only girly thing to do, right?)

A date

How many cups of coffee can I drink before I get the shakes??

That's the question of the day as I struggle to keep my eyes open after a 9:30 volleyball game last night. We lost, but I played pretty well but definitely have room for improvement. Turns out, we have at least 3 games scheduled for 9:30 this season. Geez! Who did we piss off??

Volleyball was last night, but I was already tired from a late night the evening prior. And, no, it wasn't anything fun. I attended a committee meeting that ended around 11 pm (and it was held about 40 minutes from home). When I got home, I beat my head against the wall for a few minutes to knock out the residual frustration from the meeting.

This committe organizes an auction that takes place during a charity event for a local non-profit group. Problem is, the committee is chaired by a chick who is either a) bi-polar, or b) an idiot, or c) both.

In one conversation, she argued two completely different opinions - -both of them hers! I can't help but shake my head as I remember some of our discussions

So, after all of this craziness, what's in store for me tonight? Tonight I have a date, sort of.

Actually, my ass has a date with my sofa! Is 7 pm too early to put on my pajamas??

Is it spring yet??

Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training two weeks from today.
Me and Firecracker report on March 3!
Yay!

No map required

There's something to be said for feeling like a local...especially when you're not. For me, my vacations are not considered 'successful' until I know my surroundings, when I feel comfortable walking around without a map. My shining moment in Australia came when I was strolling down a side street in the Rocks neighborhood in Sydney and a woman stopped me to ask for directions.

Me?!?! The little tourist girl from Chicago??? And YES!!! I was able to tell her how to get to the hotel she was trying to find. I was pretty proud of myself and felt even more comfortable in my "home away from home" that is Australia.

How strange is it that a city on the other side of the planet feels more like home to me than one just 2 hours' flight away?

By the time Firecracker and I left New York last weekend, I had a small measure of comfort in knowing my way around. I mean, terms like "Upper West Side" and "the Village" held meaning for me, a significant difference from the week before.

But it wasn't until I was watching an old episode of "Sex & the City" that I realized that New York isn't as foreign to me as it had once been. Carrie Bradshaw was having an affair with a married Mr. Big and they had a rendezvous at a trashy hotel. Carrie figured that their anonymity was assured since no one would know them down there (at 58th and 7th).

AND I RECOGNIZED THE LOCATION!

Okay, I didn't know exactly which hotel they were talking about, but I had to smile because I knew that 58th and 7th is near Times Square.

Small world.

And I'm getting to know more and more of it all the time.

Taking a bite out of the Big Apple

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!!!

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:

• 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.
  

Anyway, back to the estimate. It's do-able, especially because it includes materials. Yay!!

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.

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??

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.

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.

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???

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!

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?

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!!
  

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.

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!

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!!!

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!

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!

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!!

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?

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.

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?

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!!!