SYDNEY - - Saturday in Sydney for me is Retail Therapy Day and I've decided that I deserve it after a phone call from my mother this morning.
Every year, I schedule my birthday trip's end to coincide with Thanksgiving, that great American eating festival. Not a huge holiday, but one that my family traditionally shares at my mother's home and one that each and every member of my Chicago-area family would torture me for missing.
One of my brothers has been ill and will be having surgery the day before Thanksgiving. My mother even tried to convince me to change my flight so I could be home early (did I mention that he is the Golden Child in our very large family??). Anyway, since I had booked my flights a few months ago and the surgery was only set a few weeks ago, I had timing on my side. Also, he'll won't even awake from the surgery until I'm on the ground in Chicago, so I've got that going for me too.
Needless to say, I didn't change my schedule.
But my mother changed hers.
She called this morning to tell me that she's having Thanksgiving this Sunday! While I'm still in Australia!
Wonder if they'll save me any turkey?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Does a stuffed shirt come with that?
SYDNEY, AU - - Freshly showered and prettied up after a day or two of sunning, I decided to tempt fate and head to an upscale after-work bar around the corner from my apartment (doesn't it sound cool to say I have a Sydney apartment?!?!).
I'm tempting fate because it was at this same bar that I met The Stalker last year. Remember him? The guy who invited me to lunch, changed it to a private meeting at some out-of-the-way place and then when I cancelled, proceeded to call my cell phone 25 times in three days???
Anyway, no Stalker this time. Yay! The bar was filled with men in all forms of business attire, primarily blues, grays and black suits and ties aplenty. My kind of scene! Apparently I'm not alone in my enthusiasm for the clientele as proven by this great line told to me by a lawyer fellow from New Zealand:
"They call this place the Dry Cleaners because girls come here to pick up a suit."
Alas, I left alone.
Must have forgotten my ticket.
I'm tempting fate because it was at this same bar that I met The Stalker last year. Remember him? The guy who invited me to lunch, changed it to a private meeting at some out-of-the-way place and then when I cancelled, proceeded to call my cell phone 25 times in three days???
Anyway, no Stalker this time. Yay! The bar was filled with men in all forms of business attire, primarily blues, grays and black suits and ties aplenty. My kind of scene! Apparently I'm not alone in my enthusiasm for the clientele as proven by this great line told to me by a lawyer fellow from New Zealand:
"They call this place the Dry Cleaners because girls come here to pick up a suit."
Alas, I left alone.
Must have forgotten my ticket.
Monday, November 12, 2007
PD is my MD
PORT DOUGLAS, AU - This place is my drug of choice. It's my relaxation medication.
I walk slower here (not SLOW, but slower).
Of course I walk slower here. Walk too fast and you miss the screeching blaze of rainbows as lorikeets race overhead. Swim too fast and you miss the amazing feat of glorious sea creatures that breathe water!
My breathing is slower here. My heartbeat, too.
The sky is much cleaner here and the colors much more vivid. It's like a life-sized allergy commercial where the views are blurry until the allergy medication kicks in and then viola! the world is brighter and clearer. I notice so much of nature here and it's because I'm moving at a slower pace that allows me to absorb all the beauty.
The only thing that doesn't slow for me is time and my time in PD is almost up. Tomorrow is my last day here and then down to Sydney.
sigh
I walk slower here (not SLOW, but slower).
Of course I walk slower here. Walk too fast and you miss the screeching blaze of rainbows as lorikeets race overhead. Swim too fast and you miss the amazing feat of glorious sea creatures that breathe water!
My breathing is slower here. My heartbeat, too.
The sky is much cleaner here and the colors much more vivid. It's like a life-sized allergy commercial where the views are blurry until the allergy medication kicks in and then viola! the world is brighter and clearer. I notice so much of nature here and it's because I'm moving at a slower pace that allows me to absorb all the beauty.
The only thing that doesn't slow for me is time and my time in PD is almost up. Tomorrow is my last day here and then down to Sydney.
sigh
Saturday, November 10, 2007
My day on the reef
Port Douglas, AU - Yesterday was my 42nd birthday (today for those of you in the US and Canada - Hi Firecracker!!). I have been so unbelievably lucky to spend my birthday these past three or four years snorkeling the Low Isles of the Great Barrier Reef and this year was no different.
Wasn't sure Mother Nature would cooperate when I awoke to overcast skies but by the time the catamaran Wavedancer left the marina, the skies had warmed to a brilliant blue.
We had a small crowd, which suited me just fine, as my mind has been overflowing lately with thoughts of my horrible work situation (yep, couldn't quite turn it off, as much as I've tried). I did, however, meet a very nice British couple (Jilian and Rupert, how British is THAT?!?!). Julian was near tears when they came aboard, not knowing where to put her things, what to do on the boat or on the island, would they get lunch?, is it included? She seemed very rattled and her husband had no idea what to do.
"Are you a good swimmer?" I asked her, jumping right into her panicked world. She nodded.
"Then you're going to have a WONDERFUL time today," I said and smiled. "You can leave your stuff on the boat. The staff will watch over everything. You can either snorkel or dive or go on the glass-bottomed boat or just go and walk on the island with the marine biologist. And they serve a really nice buffet lunch here on the boat."
She smiled and dried her tears. Her husband smiled too and said "Thank you." He showed more tangible appreciation in buying me a XXXX Gold beer later.
One of the staff members offered to give me a Wavedancer employee outfit.
The outfit I did get was a blue Lycra bodysuit which is supposed to keep me from getting stung by jellyfish and getting too much sun. I woke up today with a swollen lower lip (apparently the suit didn't cover all of me and the sun hit me right in the face.) Oh well.
Sorry that I don't have photos of my fish adventures yet, but when I get home, I'll post them.
Of course, I had already used up all of my underwater camera's film by lunchtime, so the post-meal snorkeling would be just me...no technological crutch. You see, when I get nervous in the water, I tell myself just to concentrate on taking pictures of the pretty fish and don't think about sharks or jellyfish or any other aquatic dangers.
But yesterday, on my birthday, I wasn't nervous about losing my crutch. I was excited (and pretty sure I wouldn't be one of those people who die on their birthday. But wouldn't that be a fascinating way to die? eaten by a shark on the Great Barrier Reef??)
But I digress.
After securing all of my snorkeling gear on the island, I backed into the water and drifted through the clear, shallow water (the tide had gone out over lunch). The proximity of the coral reef made me a bit nervous as we'd been told numerous times that we'll kill the coral is we touch it.
Don't think, just swim and look at all the pretty fishes, I told myself.
And then I saw them.
Clams! Not your run-of-the-mill appetizer clams. These were HUGE, blue-lipped monsters that wouldn't even fit in my bathroom (post-remodel)!! My jaw would've dropped but then I would probably drown so somehow I managed to be in awe and keep my mouth shut at the same time (pretty big feat, huh?) How incredible!! And what a time to be without a camera!
Strangely, I wasn't disappointed that I couldn't document this sighting for my loyal readers (both of you, ha!), but you'll just have to trust me on this one.
And then it got better.
I had just decided that this snorkeling thing is pretty strenuous and I could use a break, or maybe even call it a day altogether when I lifted my head to locate the island. My mask had barely broken the surface of the water when I spotted the turtle (or 'tortuga' as our Spanish contingent said.)
She (I don't really know the sex, but still) seemed to be jammed partially under a section of reef. I couldn't decided if she was rubbing against the reef to reach an itch or maybe she really WAS stuck. Okay, that seems pretty stupid now, but at the time it seemed a possibility.
She was gorgeous, about a meter and a half long with a intricately themed shell. I didn't want to scare her, so I stayed back. I just floated there, occasionally lifting my head to see if any other snorkelers were around to show them my exciting discovery.
After at least 10 minutes, another Blue Man arrived at my side and I pointed to my lovely shelled friend, still wiggling around under the reef. We both held our ground (water?) and saw as she freed herself and surfaced.
I lifted my head and saw her grab a breath and submerge again. We played a bit of peek-a-boo for a minute or two and then she drifted away out of sight.
How fantastic!
Oh, and by the way, I asked the marine biologist and she said that turtles jam themselves under the reef to sleep (so they don't float to the surface). Apparently, I had arrived at naptime.
Wasn't sure Mother Nature would cooperate when I awoke to overcast skies but by the time the catamaran Wavedancer left the marina, the skies had warmed to a brilliant blue.
We had a small crowd, which suited me just fine, as my mind has been overflowing lately with thoughts of my horrible work situation (yep, couldn't quite turn it off, as much as I've tried). I did, however, meet a very nice British couple (Jilian and Rupert, how British is THAT?!?!). Julian was near tears when they came aboard, not knowing where to put her things, what to do on the boat or on the island, would they get lunch?, is it included? She seemed very rattled and her husband had no idea what to do.
"Are you a good swimmer?" I asked her, jumping right into her panicked world. She nodded.
"Then you're going to have a WONDERFUL time today," I said and smiled. "You can leave your stuff on the boat. The staff will watch over everything. You can either snorkel or dive or go on the glass-bottomed boat or just go and walk on the island with the marine biologist. And they serve a really nice buffet lunch here on the boat."
She smiled and dried her tears. Her husband smiled too and said "Thank you." He showed more tangible appreciation in buying me a XXXX Gold beer later.
One of the staff members offered to give me a Wavedancer employee outfit.
The outfit I did get was a blue Lycra bodysuit which is supposed to keep me from getting stung by jellyfish and getting too much sun. I woke up today with a swollen lower lip (apparently the suit didn't cover all of me and the sun hit me right in the face.) Oh well.
Sorry that I don't have photos of my fish adventures yet, but when I get home, I'll post them.
Of course, I had already used up all of my underwater camera's film by lunchtime, so the post-meal snorkeling would be just me...no technological crutch. You see, when I get nervous in the water, I tell myself just to concentrate on taking pictures of the pretty fish and don't think about sharks or jellyfish or any other aquatic dangers.
But yesterday, on my birthday, I wasn't nervous about losing my crutch. I was excited (and pretty sure I wouldn't be one of those people who die on their birthday. But wouldn't that be a fascinating way to die? eaten by a shark on the Great Barrier Reef??)
But I digress.
After securing all of my snorkeling gear on the island, I backed into the water and drifted through the clear, shallow water (the tide had gone out over lunch). The proximity of the coral reef made me a bit nervous as we'd been told numerous times that we'll kill the coral is we touch it.
Don't think, just swim and look at all the pretty fishes, I told myself.
And then I saw them.
Clams! Not your run-of-the-mill appetizer clams. These were HUGE, blue-lipped monsters that wouldn't even fit in my bathroom (post-remodel)!! My jaw would've dropped but then I would probably drown so somehow I managed to be in awe and keep my mouth shut at the same time (pretty big feat, huh?) How incredible!! And what a time to be without a camera!
Strangely, I wasn't disappointed that I couldn't document this sighting for my loyal readers (both of you, ha!), but you'll just have to trust me on this one.
And then it got better.
I had just decided that this snorkeling thing is pretty strenuous and I could use a break, or maybe even call it a day altogether when I lifted my head to locate the island. My mask had barely broken the surface of the water when I spotted the turtle (or 'tortuga' as our Spanish contingent said.)
She (I don't really know the sex, but still) seemed to be jammed partially under a section of reef. I couldn't decided if she was rubbing against the reef to reach an itch or maybe she really WAS stuck. Okay, that seems pretty stupid now, but at the time it seemed a possibility.
She was gorgeous, about a meter and a half long with a intricately themed shell. I didn't want to scare her, so I stayed back. I just floated there, occasionally lifting my head to see if any other snorkelers were around to show them my exciting discovery.
After at least 10 minutes, another Blue Man arrived at my side and I pointed to my lovely shelled friend, still wiggling around under the reef. We both held our ground (water?) and saw as she freed herself and surfaced.
I lifted my head and saw her grab a breath and submerge again. We played a bit of peek-a-boo for a minute or two and then she drifted away out of sight.
How fantastic!
Oh, and by the way, I asked the marine biologist and she said that turtles jam themselves under the reef to sleep (so they don't float to the surface). Apparently, I had arrived at naptime.
Monday, November 05, 2007
A walk in the park
ADELAIDE, AU - Decided that I'd check out Adelaide's Botanic Gardens, as is my habit in all Australian cities. Nothing like celebrating my first full day in South Australia (known on the license plates as The Festival State, for those interesting in that type of trivia) with a face full of kangaroo paw (strange but cool flower found in these parts).
The day opened as it closed yesterday, too cool for my liking. I left my hotel with several layers that included a scarf around my neck, but Mother Nature had changes in store for me and I returned several hours later with my scarf tied around my camera bag and my sweater wrapped around my waist.
Never made it to the Botanic Gardens, however, as the University of Adelaide's campus stood in my way. I strode through the huge wrought-iron gates and was somewhat disappointed to see very few students. All in class maybe? Nice campus, though.
Having a vague idea where the gardens began, I headed through the campus toward Torrens River. Now the place reminds me of Melbourne, where it gave me glimpses of Perth yesterday. Melbourne features the Yarra River dividing sections of town and one must find a walkway across the Yarra to get to Melbourne's amazing Botanic Gardens.
But I digress.
Having crossed the Torrens, I found myself not at the gardens but at the entrance to the Adelaide Zoological Gardens. Okay, that works. I love zoos!
Can I put in a plug here for the Animal Planet show called "Meercat Manor"? Seriously folks, I can watch those critters for hours and nearly did in Adelaide. For sheer entertainment value, they really do rival the chimpanzees - and that's saying something.
Having viewed my buddies the meercats and some odd African creature called a mara which looked like someone put a rabbit's head on a small dog, I decided that nature was calling. Is it strange or very creative that the ladies room at the Adelaide Zoo is built into an aviary? Yep, brightly colored (and noisy) parrets were watching us pee from above.
I devoured a croissant sandwich, doritos and a water and decided to call it a day (since I had absolutely NO IDEA how long it would take to get back to my hotel.) I had been meandering around since 10:30 in the morning and since all of the grammer school field trips had departed, it had to be late.
Time to go.
On the way back, I stopped for a breather on a park bench near the Adelaide...oops, sorry, the Royal Adelaide Hospital (not sure what's royal about it, but whatever). Anyway, while sitting there enjoying the first real sun I've absorbed in days, I saw a group of young boys in white short-sleeved shirts and a few in matching white hats run across the street in front of me.
A few minutes later, more boys in the same shirt (with a purple stripe across the shoulders) trickled by and raced through the parking lot across the street. And more boys, these a few years older, followed a few minutes later.
There's a game on!
White shirts and hats?? Would it be cricket maybe? I remembered seeing an area called the "parade grounds" on the map and it wasn't too far from here. Maybe it's Aussie Rules football? I don't know squat about either sport, but what a great chance to find out!
I raced across the street in the direction that the boys went and found myself back on campus, but this time it was the University of South Australia. Whatever. I headed toward the river and spotted the boys on the far banks of the Torrens, gathered with some men near a small structure.
One look at the equipment spread out on the ground and I knew.
Not cricket, not football, but crew!
The day opened as it closed yesterday, too cool for my liking. I left my hotel with several layers that included a scarf around my neck, but Mother Nature had changes in store for me and I returned several hours later with my scarf tied around my camera bag and my sweater wrapped around my waist.
Never made it to the Botanic Gardens, however, as the University of Adelaide's campus stood in my way. I strode through the huge wrought-iron gates and was somewhat disappointed to see very few students. All in class maybe? Nice campus, though.
Having a vague idea where the gardens began, I headed through the campus toward Torrens River. Now the place reminds me of Melbourne, where it gave me glimpses of Perth yesterday. Melbourne features the Yarra River dividing sections of town and one must find a walkway across the Yarra to get to Melbourne's amazing Botanic Gardens.
But I digress.
Having crossed the Torrens, I found myself not at the gardens but at the entrance to the Adelaide Zoological Gardens. Okay, that works. I love zoos!
Can I put in a plug here for the Animal Planet show called "Meercat Manor"? Seriously folks, I can watch those critters for hours and nearly did in Adelaide. For sheer entertainment value, they really do rival the chimpanzees - and that's saying something.
Having viewed my buddies the meercats and some odd African creature called a mara which looked like someone put a rabbit's head on a small dog, I decided that nature was calling. Is it strange or very creative that the ladies room at the Adelaide Zoo is built into an aviary? Yep, brightly colored (and noisy) parrets were watching us pee from above.
I devoured a croissant sandwich, doritos and a water and decided to call it a day (since I had absolutely NO IDEA how long it would take to get back to my hotel.) I had been meandering around since 10:30 in the morning and since all of the grammer school field trips had departed, it had to be late.
Time to go.
On the way back, I stopped for a breather on a park bench near the Adelaide...oops, sorry, the Royal Adelaide Hospital (not sure what's royal about it, but whatever). Anyway, while sitting there enjoying the first real sun I've absorbed in days, I saw a group of young boys in white short-sleeved shirts and a few in matching white hats run across the street in front of me.
A few minutes later, more boys in the same shirt (with a purple stripe across the shoulders) trickled by and raced through the parking lot across the street. And more boys, these a few years older, followed a few minutes later.
There's a game on!
White shirts and hats?? Would it be cricket maybe? I remembered seeing an area called the "parade grounds" on the map and it wasn't too far from here. Maybe it's Aussie Rules football? I don't know squat about either sport, but what a great chance to find out!
I raced across the street in the direction that the boys went and found myself back on campus, but this time it was the University of South Australia. Whatever. I headed toward the river and spotted the boys on the far banks of the Torrens, gathered with some men near a small structure.
One look at the equipment spread out on the ground and I knew.
Not cricket, not football, but crew!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
To grocery shop or not to grocery shop?
Granted, I'm not one of those people that maintains a refrigerator stocked full of fresh vegetables and healthy snacks, but GEEZ!
A quick check of my 'frig last night revealed that everything in there (aside from a door full of condiments) is either chocolate or wine. If it matters, it's really good chocolate (Milka brand from Europe) and pretty good wine, too.
Guess I should feel bad about that, but I really don't.
Countdown to vacation: eight days!
A quick check of my 'frig last night revealed that everything in there (aside from a door full of condiments) is either chocolate or wine. If it matters, it's really good chocolate (Milka brand from Europe) and pretty good wine, too.
Guess I should feel bad about that, but I really don't.
Countdown to vacation: eight days!
Monday, October 22, 2007
A sunny Sunday
They might have been part of the congregation from the mass that just let out. The two of them, a couple, shuffled toward me with the peculiar gait that often marks a mental deficiency.
A huge smile split her cocoa-colored face as she walked hand-in-hand with him, her lips unable to conceal the misshapen mouth and bucked teeth. Through thick and wide glasses she looked not up, but across at her pudgy friend.
His hair a greasy mess across his pimpled forehead, he pulled at his wrinkled and baggy jeans as they stopped for just a moment.
They kissed.
And continued on their way.
God didn't give them physical beauty, but He gave them happiness.
And I couldn't help but be a little jealous.
A huge smile split her cocoa-colored face as she walked hand-in-hand with him, her lips unable to conceal the misshapen mouth and bucked teeth. Through thick and wide glasses she looked not up, but across at her pudgy friend.
His hair a greasy mess across his pimpled forehead, he pulled at his wrinkled and baggy jeans as they stopped for just a moment.
They kissed.
And continued on their way.
God didn't give them physical beauty, but He gave them happiness.
And I couldn't help but be a little jealous.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Countdown to Opening Day 2008
People that know me, even the casual acquaintances that I see during my workday, know that I'm a Cub fan. To some of them, I'm sure that's my sole identifying characteristic.
"There goes that lady that's a big Cub fan" as if I walk around with a big red 'C' on my forehead.
But lately, with my team exiting the post-season with nothing but a whimper, I've been the recipient of many concerned looks.
"Are you okay?"
People, please! It's not like someone ran over my dog. As a longtime Cub fan, I've learned to temper any raging enthusiasm, any urge of "we're gonna win it all!" with memories of past disappointments. I've learned that Cub fans have thick skins. At least they should.
The cashier at my lunchtime spot gave me that mournful look of sympathy and it triggered a thought.
The Cubs last participated in the World Series in 1945, but since 1984, the Cubs have played in the post-season five times. FIVE TIMES!! Okay, they haven't won "the whole thing" in my lifetime (yet), but I've felt that rush of seeing the red-white-and-blue bunting hanging from the brick walls of Wrigley.
It seems that many so-called baseball fans are defining success in very black-and-white terms. Hey! Only one team wins the World Series. One! Does that mean that the other 29 teams in baseball are utter failures?!?!
Winning a pennant doesn't mean anything? How about taking home a division title? Or going from last place to first place in one year? Can you honestly say those aren't terrific accomplishments?
It's not all-or-nothing for me.
Would you tell your child that if they don't collect straight As on their report card that they must be stupid?
I think not!
Opening Day for the Cubs is March 31, 2008.
Save me a seat.
"There goes that lady that's a big Cub fan" as if I walk around with a big red 'C' on my forehead.
But lately, with my team exiting the post-season with nothing but a whimper, I've been the recipient of many concerned looks.
"Are you okay?"
People, please! It's not like someone ran over my dog. As a longtime Cub fan, I've learned to temper any raging enthusiasm, any urge of "we're gonna win it all!" with memories of past disappointments. I've learned that Cub fans have thick skins. At least they should.
The cashier at my lunchtime spot gave me that mournful look of sympathy and it triggered a thought.
The Cubs last participated in the World Series in 1945, but since 1984, the Cubs have played in the post-season five times. FIVE TIMES!! Okay, they haven't won "the whole thing" in my lifetime (yet), but I've felt that rush of seeing the red-white-and-blue bunting hanging from the brick walls of Wrigley.
It seems that many so-called baseball fans are defining success in very black-and-white terms. Hey! Only one team wins the World Series. One! Does that mean that the other 29 teams in baseball are utter failures?!?!
Winning a pennant doesn't mean anything? How about taking home a division title? Or going from last place to first place in one year? Can you honestly say those aren't terrific accomplishments?
It's not all-or-nothing for me.
Would you tell your child that if they don't collect straight As on their report card that they must be stupid?
I think not!
Opening Day for the Cubs is March 31, 2008.
Save me a seat.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
My boys
C'mon! You can't tell me these don't look like fun guys!
It's too bad I have to say goodbye to them...at least until next March!
Kerry Wood and Ryan Dempster having fun in the bullpen.
It's too bad I have to say goodbye to them...at least until next March!
Kerry Wood and Ryan Dempster having fun in the bullpen.
Dempster, ever the ringmaster, introducing the singing rookies in costume in Cincinnati.
I'm thinking Jacque Jones had a rough night following the Cubs' division clinching in Cincy.
We wouldn't have gotten this far without the LSU Connection (alias Ryan Theriot and Mike Fontenot).
And then there's speed demons like Felix Pie that keep things interesting!
Things to love...and not..about Great American Ballpark
-NEVER!!! NEVER!!!!! NEVER!!!!! NEVER!!!! NEVER!!!!! NEVER!!!! NEVER!!! EVER!
Cub fans know who's face is missing from this historic Reds interactive sign. Do you??
-The five-tool-player. Every general manager's dream.
-Nothing like the Ohio River as a backdrop, huh?
- The grounds crew prepares the field the old-fashioned way. Remind you of anywhere else?
Monday, October 01, 2007
Signs, signs, everywhere signs
Some of my favorite signs from the Cubs' final regular season games in Cincinnati...
- after the Cubs clinched the NL Central Division title!
- Yep, like I said. 
- During the Cubs' final homestand, still just a few games ahead of Milwaukee.
- Love this one!
- after the Cubs clinched the NL Central Division title! - Yep, like I said.- During the Cubs' final homestand, still just a few games ahead of Milwaukee.
- After the Cubs beat the Pirates, closing in on the division title.
- The first one is a loose Latin translation of "Go Cubs." The second? Well, you know!
- Yes, we brought Lou Pinella back to his old stomping grounds to celebrate good times.
- Love this one!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Are we there yet?
"The most exciting sounds in the world are train whistles, plane motors and anchor chains," said a wistful George Bailey to Uncle Billy in one of my favorite movies ("It's a Wonderful Life").
And I couldn't agree more.
I don't know what it is about travel- or at least the expectation of travel- that gets my heart pumping. Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown people, unique accents, unfamiliar food, and other mysteries that await at whatever soil my plane touches.
What to pack? Do I need my passport? Do they speak English where I'm going? Where will I stay? And, most importantly, what is there to do there?
To go or not to go?
It was with a thump in my chest that I tapped in my credit card details to make a spur-of-the-moment purchase of a very cheap (under $200) flight to Florida for next year's Martin Luther King long weekend. Okay, so Florida's no great shakes, but for me - in what will no-doubtedly be a frigid Chicago winter- it will be paradise in January.
So, let's see...I've got travel plans this month (Cincinnati for the Cubs' regular-season finale), next month (to Toronto to visit Firecracker) and November (to celebrate my birthday in Australia) and then to Florida in January. Over the weekend, I plan to cash in a free travel voucher for the Cubs' Spring Training in Arizona next March.
Don't anyone plan to come visit me in the next seven months 'cause I won't be here!!!!!!
(Cue hysterical laughter).
It was Judy Garland in "The Wizard of Oz" that said "There's no place like home."
Sorry, Judy, but I believe Jimmy.
And I couldn't agree more.
I don't know what it is about travel- or at least the expectation of travel- that gets my heart pumping. Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown people, unique accents, unfamiliar food, and other mysteries that await at whatever soil my plane touches.
What to pack? Do I need my passport? Do they speak English where I'm going? Where will I stay? And, most importantly, what is there to do there?
To go or not to go?
It was with a thump in my chest that I tapped in my credit card details to make a spur-of-the-moment purchase of a very cheap (under $200) flight to Florida for next year's Martin Luther King long weekend. Okay, so Florida's no great shakes, but for me - in what will no-doubtedly be a frigid Chicago winter- it will be paradise in January.
So, let's see...I've got travel plans this month (Cincinnati for the Cubs' regular-season finale), next month (to Toronto to visit Firecracker) and November (to celebrate my birthday in Australia) and then to Florida in January. Over the weekend, I plan to cash in a free travel voucher for the Cubs' Spring Training in Arizona next March.
Don't anyone plan to come visit me in the next seven months 'cause I won't be here!!!!!!
(Cue hysterical laughter).
It was Judy Garland in "The Wizard of Oz" that said "There's no place like home."
Sorry, Judy, but I believe Jimmy.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Home and Garden TV/ The Travel Channel
For months now, I've been hesitant to plan my annual trip. Australia, Hawaii and Argentina are some of the places where I've celebrated my 'big day' (can people really call it that after the age of 9?)
Anyway, things have been really different this year. My new boss (who returns after 6 years) has not been as easy to work with this time around and I've been afraid to 'request vacation.' We've been discussing my contract on and off for eight months now and it's not going well. As a consultant, I'm not really entitled to 'vacation,' but I've been pretty sure my 'scheduled time off' would cause trouble.
Throwing caution to the wind last week, I sent my boss an email stating that I would be out of the office Nov. 1-24 on my annual trip. I would, of course, bring in an appropriate substitute and train him/her prior to my absence. There was no request, just a statement.
I took a deep breath, pressed SEND and then I waited.
No return email on Tuesday.
No email or verbal feedback on Wednesday either.
Every Thursday morning features a weekly meeting with my boss and I decided to just assume the situation was decided. As our meeting was ending, I asked if I should have my substitute attend our Thursday meetings and update the status report as I normally do.
"Yes, do that," came the reply.
So, it's a go!
Since my normal trip-planning is done before the summer even begins, I am a bit crazed as I think how to get everything done before November 1.
Oh, did I mention that my contractor suggested using my absence to remodel my bathroom (a plan long overdue)? He and I have been discussing my yucky, 1950s style (not retro, just ugly) loo ever since he installed the beautiful Brazilian koa wood floors in my bedroom last year.
These are the same beautiful floors that now include five or six gashes from the 'tornado' that came tearing through Chicago a few weeks ago. Yes, my contractor will fix them...for about $500.
Be careful what you wish for...
Anyway, things have been really different this year. My new boss (who returns after 6 years) has not been as easy to work with this time around and I've been afraid to 'request vacation.' We've been discussing my contract on and off for eight months now and it's not going well. As a consultant, I'm not really entitled to 'vacation,' but I've been pretty sure my 'scheduled time off' would cause trouble.
Throwing caution to the wind last week, I sent my boss an email stating that I would be out of the office Nov. 1-24 on my annual trip. I would, of course, bring in an appropriate substitute and train him/her prior to my absence. There was no request, just a statement.
I took a deep breath, pressed SEND and then I waited.
No return email on Tuesday.
No email or verbal feedback on Wednesday either.
Every Thursday morning features a weekly meeting with my boss and I decided to just assume the situation was decided. As our meeting was ending, I asked if I should have my substitute attend our Thursday meetings and update the status report as I normally do.
"Yes, do that," came the reply.
So, it's a go!
Since my normal trip-planning is done before the summer even begins, I am a bit crazed as I think how to get everything done before November 1.
Oh, did I mention that my contractor suggested using my absence to remodel my bathroom (a plan long overdue)? He and I have been discussing my yucky, 1950s style (not retro, just ugly) loo ever since he installed the beautiful Brazilian koa wood floors in my bedroom last year.
These are the same beautiful floors that now include five or six gashes from the 'tornado' that came tearing through Chicago a few weeks ago. Yes, my contractor will fix them...for about $500.
Get your calculators out, folks. Add the floor price to the bathroom materials. Um, let's see now. There's not much to buy there, except wall tile, floor tile, a tub, shower doors, a new shower head and faucet, a new sink, countertop, vanity cabinet, medicine cabinet, toilet, lighting fixture, and probably a bunch of other stuff.
Be careful what you wish for...
Thursday, August 30, 2007
A Donald in the making
He was shy as he approached me in the stands following the Cubs game the other night. He looked at his hands, which were holding a stack of business cards. He looked onto the now-Cubs-less baseball field where the grounds crew had started to water down the infield. He looked everywhere but at me.
"I have this website," he began, still not making eye contact. "It's about the Cubs."
If this was a different era, maybe the 1960s, I think his opening line might've been, "I have a band."
But I digress.
"I'm trying to get World Series tickets," he stammered. I looked around and saw there was no posse of friends to support this shy guy. My heart hurt for him in his solitary quest.
"If you click on the website, I get money," he said quietly as he handed me a business card. I looked at it and discovered that my awkward fellow baseball fan was blessed with a name more suited to rodeos than baseball diamonds.
He didn't ask for my name. In fact, as I looked up from reading his rather basic business card, he was quickly walking away, relieved of the torture of a face-to-face meeting with a complete stranger.
So, folks, I'm asking you to help Colton in his quest for World Series tickets. No financial committment required, just a moment of your web-surfing time.
Go to: www.kidscub.blogspot.com
Oh, did I mention that this quiet entrepreneur is about 10 years old?
"I have this website," he began, still not making eye contact. "It's about the Cubs."
If this was a different era, maybe the 1960s, I think his opening line might've been, "I have a band."
But I digress.
"I'm trying to get World Series tickets," he stammered. I looked around and saw there was no posse of friends to support this shy guy. My heart hurt for him in his solitary quest.
"If you click on the website, I get money," he said quietly as he handed me a business card. I looked at it and discovered that my awkward fellow baseball fan was blessed with a name more suited to rodeos than baseball diamonds.
He didn't ask for my name. In fact, as I looked up from reading his rather basic business card, he was quickly walking away, relieved of the torture of a face-to-face meeting with a complete stranger.
So, folks, I'm asking you to help Colton in his quest for World Series tickets. No financial committment required, just a moment of your web-surfing time.
Go to: www.kidscub.blogspot.com
Oh, did I mention that this quiet entrepreneur is about 10 years old?
Friday, August 24, 2007
Auntie Em! Auntie Em!
When I got home and saw that my bedroom door was closed, I knew there had been trouble. I knew I didn't close my door and I knew my roommate didn't close my door. I knew that because I have NO ROOMMATE.
Anyway, when I peeked inside, it was all I could do not to look around for Toto and shiny red pumps. Yes, boys and girls, a tornado had hit my condo (at least that's what the building management tried to tell me. Um, guys? a tornado in the city of Chicago would probably top all the Michael Vick stories on the news, doncha think?)
According to Mr. A-1 Numero Uno WGN TV meteorologist Tom Skilling, it was no tornado, but some pretty impressive 74 mile per hour winds that knocked out some windows in my building and quite handily tossed around my window air conditioner. In fact, I counted at least five deep scrapes in my fabulous new hardwood floors during the cleanup.
This is the type of stuff that homeowners' insurance is supposed to cover, right?
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The return of Janis from the Muppet Show
Just got a haircut. Okay, it was just a trim, but the styling apparently was the difference. My flat-ironed 'do seemed to make me something of a guy-magnet at the Cubs-Cardinals game yesterday (not to be misconstrued as a complaint.)
I was chatting with the visiting Connecticut couple sitting on my left when five guys arrived to fill the row to my right. A big guy in a red shirt with what appeared to be a pig on it sat to my immediate right. (I later discovered that it was a razorback pig, the mascot for Arkansas.)
For a few years, I was fortunate enough to share baseball games with Firecracker. But now that she's back home, I've had to readjust my game-day attitude and try to see the bright side of going solo. One of my favorite things about going to baseball games alone (aside from an easier time getting a ticket) is the opportunity to meet new people. After an hourlong rain delay, the game began and I discovered that the Arkansas crowd was actually Cardinals fan (DUH! RED SHIRTS!)
In case you forgot, the full name of the St. Louis team is the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals (okay, it's not the legal monniker, but whatever!) Fortunately, I didn't mention my nickname for the Redbirds because my seat neighbor turned out to be a former Cardinals catcher!
We spent much of the game commenting on the action and Redbird Guy was impressed by my knowledge and said if he ever started coaching, he'd think of offering me a job. Hmmn???
Happily, my Cubs beat the Cards but his team's loss didn't diminish Redbird Guy's enthusiasm for the evening.
"So, what are you doing tonight?" came the not-unexpected question. "Wanna join us for dinner? What's your number?"
I gave him my cell digits and then headed to my usual post-game watering hole, not sure if Redbird Guy was planning to call or just doing the usual 'close the deal' routine.
Flatiron effect was in full force at the bar, as a young Cardinal fan wrapped his arm around me when I walked in and said to his friends, "If all Cubs fans looked like her, I'd definitely be a Cubs fan."
Fast-forward not more than 20 minutes later...A trio of other out-of-towners were taking off to a local restaurant and said I was welcome to join them. I had chatted with one of trio's members (from San Francisco) earlier at the back bar, so when they were leaving, he came over and kissed me on the cheek on his way out. The second guy, who I'd just been introduced to, did the same. The third, who I'd never seen before, must have thought this was the traditional departure ritual, so he kissed my cheek, too.
It's the hair.
Despite the lovely attention, I was ready to head home and by 9 pm, I was curled up on the sofa with an Abbott & Costello movie on when my cell buzzed. Redbird Guy apologized for not calling sooner, but his friends insisted on stopping to eat right after they left the ballpark (not a surprise since they had only one or two hotdogs between them.)
RG said they were heading out to a bar soon. I had already decided that I was done for the night, so he apologized again and said if the Cubs make the playoffs, he might be back. Could he call me?
Sure.
Gotta strike when the iron is hot.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Only 312s and 773s need apply, please
Some way, some how, the impossible-to-get ticket gods were smiling on me this past weekend as I was GIFTED two fantastic seats to the Cubs/Mets game on Saturday. Seriously folks, this was a game where a woman could rent out her uterus and not get a ticket and here I was with TWO TICKETS!!!
Whom to invite???
Firecracker would normally be my first choice as we've been partners in Wrigleyville crime for a few years now, but NOOOOOO!! She had to up and move to the Great White North...and before the end of baseball season, no less!!
Okay, next choice would be a pal from my volleyball team, another fun, single gal who knows her baseball. When reached on her cell, she was halfway to middle earth hoosierville to visit her family.
Next?
How about a client/friend whose foot I accidently drove over at a Cubs/Brewers game a few years back. Yes, he DOES still talk to me!
Nope - family obligations.
Left to scroll through my cell phone directory, it occurred to me that most of the people in my cell phone live in other cities, not to mention other countries!!!
Geez! I've got to make more friends in Chicago!
Whom to invite???
Firecracker would normally be my first choice as we've been partners in Wrigleyville crime for a few years now, but NOOOOOO!! She had to up and move to the Great White North...and before the end of baseball season, no less!!
Okay, next choice would be a pal from my volleyball team, another fun, single gal who knows her baseball. When reached on her cell, she was halfway to middle earth hoosierville to visit her family.
Next?
How about a client/friend whose foot I accidently drove over at a Cubs/Brewers game a few years back. Yes, he DOES still talk to me!
Nope - family obligations.
Left to scroll through my cell phone directory, it occurred to me that most of the people in my cell phone live in other cities, not to mention other countries!!!
Geez! I've got to make more friends in Chicago!
Ripple affect
You drop a pebble into a pond and after the kerplunk!, the water ripples away from the point of impact, settling into larger and larger concentric circles until the water is once again as smooth as glass.
But what happens when the ripples go backwards? When people who would normally be considered part of the very largest and most subtle circles of my world have more than the expected affect?
I've been trading text messages with Tall Southern Gentleman for a few days now and I was very happy to receive an invitation to dinner when he's in Chicago next (probably a few weeks). So, yay me! He emailed a photo to me and asked me to send one to him.
I sent a photo of me in Sydney, Australia (to give a hint of the as-yet-untouched topic of travel).
Two days go by. No texts. No calls.
Insecure little me starts thinking of scenarios where he wouldn't contact me: maybe he got the photo and thinks women that travel are snooty, rich bitches; maybe he's one of those divorced fathers that spends every other weekend with their kids and NO ONE ELSE!
And then, today, I got an email from him (sent on Saturday, my bad!) that says that his best friend and wife got into a terrible car accident on Friday morning and the wife didn't survive. The woman was like a sister to him and he's very upset by the whole thing. He wanted to let me know why he might not hear from him for a while.
On top of that, I discovered that the mother of another 'outer ring of friends' died late last week of lung cancer.
I just hope the circles don't get smaller.
But what happens when the ripples go backwards? When people who would normally be considered part of the very largest and most subtle circles of my world have more than the expected affect?
I've been trading text messages with Tall Southern Gentleman for a few days now and I was very happy to receive an invitation to dinner when he's in Chicago next (probably a few weeks). So, yay me! He emailed a photo to me and asked me to send one to him.
I sent a photo of me in Sydney, Australia (to give a hint of the as-yet-untouched topic of travel).
Two days go by. No texts. No calls.
Insecure little me starts thinking of scenarios where he wouldn't contact me: maybe he got the photo and thinks women that travel are snooty, rich bitches; maybe he's one of those divorced fathers that spends every other weekend with their kids and NO ONE ELSE!
And then, today, I got an email from him (sent on Saturday, my bad!) that says that his best friend and wife got into a terrible car accident on Friday morning and the wife didn't survive. The woman was like a sister to him and he's very upset by the whole thing. He wanted to let me know why he might not hear from him for a while.
On top of that, I discovered that the mother of another 'outer ring of friends' died late last week of lung cancer.
I just hope the circles don't get smaller.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Once more with feeling??
How much do I love novocaine?
"Scaling" sounds innocent enough, right? It's basically an in-depth cleaning and how bad can that be? After having half the teeth in my mouth sandblasted with gallons of water, scraped with an iron hook and poked with tiny harpoons, I left my dentist's chair feeling drained.
I grabbed a quick peek in a mirror and noticed that as a result of my favorite anethestic, I bore a striking resemblance to a stroke victim.
Stepping out the dentist's chair, my cell phone chirped and I thought it might be Firecracker texting her arrival at Wrigley Field for the Cubs game. Sure, she's having fun while I'm dying here.
But no.
"UR Cubbie run is only temporary. Dont get too confident" was the text message sent by Super Bowl Guy.
Uh oh!
Checking my swollen, drooling face in my mirror, I said a silent prayer, "Please don't be in town. Please don't be in town."
He wasn't. But I was curious as to why I'd hear from him after, oh, say three months? In case you don't remember, he's the guy from New Jersey with whom I went to the Super Bowl and then he fell off the earth.
And then, there was my answer... in blue and red. According to my pocket Cubs' schedule, my boys will take on the Mets (SBG's team) in early August. I couldn't resist the urge to bash the NY team and predict a big win for the Cubs when the Mets arrive.
"So the winner gets to choose the evening's activities?" came the challenge from SBG. Oh, so he is planning to be in town. Hmmn...
Obviously, Super Bowl Guy is a terrible choice of company for me, but fortunately, I have a possible alternative.
Firecracker and I attended the Cubs game last Monday night and ended up sitting next to three guys from North Carolina. Fun guys in their forties (my target audience) and actual baseball fans, too!
Tall Southern Gent didn't talk much at first, letting his pal dominate the conversations. Later on, when Firecracker distracted the pal, TSG and I got to chat. It was quite a scene as TSG is 6' 8" and I'm, well, not. He found a bar rail to lean on while I got to learn random bits about him, most importantly, that he does not live in Chicago but works here occasionally (sound familiar?)
When we finally decided to leave, we stepped outside the bar and into a torrential rainstorm. We huddled together under the awning in front of the bar, waiting for a break in the storm.
"Your hair smells nice," said TSG as he wrapped his arms around my waist in a backward hug. Surprisingly, I didn't jump out of my skin as sudden as this show of affection was, but enjoyed the warmth and strength of his long arms around me.
He never asked for my number, but those of you who know me won't be surprised to hear that I gave him my card anyway. Some guys need a push, that's all.
Finally, the rain let up enough for him to flag a taxi for me and for me to give him my umbrella for the walk to the train. The evening ended with a nice (and not inappropriately passionate, read: no tongue) kiss goodnight.
Oh, except for the call that came 20 minutes later. "Just wanted to check that you got home okay."
Yep, he's a Southern Gentleman.
Seems my stock is going up!
"Scaling" sounds innocent enough, right? It's basically an in-depth cleaning and how bad can that be? After having half the teeth in my mouth sandblasted with gallons of water, scraped with an iron hook and poked with tiny harpoons, I left my dentist's chair feeling drained.
I grabbed a quick peek in a mirror and noticed that as a result of my favorite anethestic, I bore a striking resemblance to a stroke victim.
Stepping out the dentist's chair, my cell phone chirped and I thought it might be Firecracker texting her arrival at Wrigley Field for the Cubs game. Sure, she's having fun while I'm dying here.
But no.
"UR Cubbie run is only temporary. Dont get too confident" was the text message sent by Super Bowl Guy.
Uh oh!
Checking my swollen, drooling face in my mirror, I said a silent prayer, "Please don't be in town. Please don't be in town."
He wasn't. But I was curious as to why I'd hear from him after, oh, say three months? In case you don't remember, he's the guy from New Jersey with whom I went to the Super Bowl and then he fell off the earth.
And then, there was my answer... in blue and red. According to my pocket Cubs' schedule, my boys will take on the Mets (SBG's team) in early August. I couldn't resist the urge to bash the NY team and predict a big win for the Cubs when the Mets arrive.
"So the winner gets to choose the evening's activities?" came the challenge from SBG. Oh, so he is planning to be in town. Hmmn...
Obviously, Super Bowl Guy is a terrible choice of company for me, but fortunately, I have a possible alternative.
Firecracker and I attended the Cubs game last Monday night and ended up sitting next to three guys from North Carolina. Fun guys in their forties (my target audience) and actual baseball fans, too!
Tall Southern Gent didn't talk much at first, letting his pal dominate the conversations. Later on, when Firecracker distracted the pal, TSG and I got to chat. It was quite a scene as TSG is 6' 8" and I'm, well, not. He found a bar rail to lean on while I got to learn random bits about him, most importantly, that he does not live in Chicago but works here occasionally (sound familiar?)
When we finally decided to leave, we stepped outside the bar and into a torrential rainstorm. We huddled together under the awning in front of the bar, waiting for a break in the storm.
"Your hair smells nice," said TSG as he wrapped his arms around my waist in a backward hug. Surprisingly, I didn't jump out of my skin as sudden as this show of affection was, but enjoyed the warmth and strength of his long arms around me.
He never asked for my number, but those of you who know me won't be surprised to hear that I gave him my card anyway. Some guys need a push, that's all.
Finally, the rain let up enough for him to flag a taxi for me and for me to give him my umbrella for the walk to the train. The evening ended with a nice (and not inappropriately passionate, read: no tongue) kiss goodnight.
Oh, except for the call that came 20 minutes later. "Just wanted to check that you got home okay."
Yep, he's a Southern Gentleman.
Seems my stock is going up!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Gotta love these guys!
If you didn't see it, you've got to check out the helping hand offered by the Philadelphia Phillies when the Colorado Rockies' grounds crew had a wee bit of difficulty with the tarp during a recent rain delay.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99tGf8WWoRQ
Of course! That's what the hard-working, hard-playing people of Philly do when there's trouble - -they help! They're not afraid to get their hands dirty. Although I have to admit I'm pretty disappointed in the Rockies staff (save former Cub LaTroy Hawkins, who joined in), I couldn't help but join the home crowd and applaud the visiting Phillies.
But wait! How many of the Phillies players are actually from Philadelphia? Former Cub pitcher (and still ageless at 44) Jamie Moyer is from Sellersville, PA, but that's it for the Pennsylvania contingent. Of course, you've got the usual half dozen Californians and four guys from the Dominican Republic, but the remainder of the Phillies roster reads like a US atlas. Three players from Texas, two from Oregon and states like Nebraska, North Dakota, Missouri, North Carolina and Washington are all represented in Phillies colors.
Doesn't sound like a bunch of crybaby, can't-break-a-fingernail-or-I'll-go-on-the-DL guys, does it? Is it coincidence that they're wearing the Phillies pinstripes or do the Phillies like to recruit guys who do whatever it takes?
Go Phillies!!
(at least until you play the Cubs)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99tGf8WWoRQ
Of course! That's what the hard-working, hard-playing people of Philly do when there's trouble - -they help! They're not afraid to get their hands dirty. Although I have to admit I'm pretty disappointed in the Rockies staff (save former Cub LaTroy Hawkins, who joined in), I couldn't help but join the home crowd and applaud the visiting Phillies.
But wait! How many of the Phillies players are actually from Philadelphia? Former Cub pitcher (and still ageless at 44) Jamie Moyer is from Sellersville, PA, but that's it for the Pennsylvania contingent. Of course, you've got the usual half dozen Californians and four guys from the Dominican Republic, but the remainder of the Phillies roster reads like a US atlas. Three players from Texas, two from Oregon and states like Nebraska, North Dakota, Missouri, North Carolina and Washington are all represented in Phillies colors.
Doesn't sound like a bunch of crybaby, can't-break-a-fingernail-or-I'll-go-on-the-DL guys, does it? Is it coincidence that they're wearing the Phillies pinstripes or do the Phillies like to recruit guys who do whatever it takes?
Go Phillies!!
(at least until you play the Cubs)
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