So I mailed my business card to Redbird Fan, not knowing if he'd even get it before the tradeshow here in Chicago (which starts today, by the way). He travels quite a bit, I think.
At 4:57 pm, my cell phone rings and I check the display: a 314 area code.
St. Louis!
'Hello?' I tried to sound friendly but not overly so.
A man's voice replies, "Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong number."
And hangs up!
So who's the bigger chickenshit, me or him? I hung up when his receptionist tried to put my call through and he (or his friend/coworker) hung up when I answered.
There is NO WAY IN HELL that the call wasn't from him.
The tradeshow ends on Thursday. We'll see...
Monday, May 11, 2009
Saturday, May 02, 2009
When all else fails, try the US Postal Service
Okay, so I stopped by the Merchandise Mart on my lunch hour the other day (where Redbird Fan's company has an office). I found the company, but the lights were turned off, no one home. Turns out, it's one of the many companies in the Mart that are only open during trade shows, not to the public.
The glass-enclosed space listed a St. Louis phone number, so I thought I could make a quick call and find out exactly when the Chicago location would be inhabited. The woman who answered told me that the company would be participating in a May 11-14 trade show (as Redbird Fan said). I mentioned that I had met one of her coworkers over the weekend and before I could finish, she had started to transfer me to him!!!!
I panicked and hung up.
Gimme a break! Just stop for a second and think of how that conversation would go, "hello, we met over the weekend. You don't know my name and didn't tell me what company you worked for or your phone number but I tracked you down..." Sounds pretty stalker-like, doesn't it? I didn't want to put this guy on the spot, so I chickened out.
On further review, I decided that maybe I could call back and be transferred directly to his voicemail. That way, he could decide whether or not to call me back and no one is pressured to make a split-second decision.
I'm not sure how this is possible for a company to have a St. Louis headquarters but be successful enough to also have not only a location in Chicago but one in the Merchandise Mart AND NOT HAVE VOICEMAIL!!
As a last-ditch effort, I placed my business card with "thanks for the beer. maybe I can return the favor when you're in town" on the back and mailed it to his company.
We'll see.
The glass-enclosed space listed a St. Louis phone number, so I thought I could make a quick call and find out exactly when the Chicago location would be inhabited. The woman who answered told me that the company would be participating in a May 11-14 trade show (as Redbird Fan said). I mentioned that I had met one of her coworkers over the weekend and before I could finish, she had started to transfer me to him!!!!
I panicked and hung up.
Gimme a break! Just stop for a second and think of how that conversation would go, "hello, we met over the weekend. You don't know my name and didn't tell me what company you worked for or your phone number but I tracked you down..." Sounds pretty stalker-like, doesn't it? I didn't want to put this guy on the spot, so I chickened out.
On further review, I decided that maybe I could call back and be transferred directly to his voicemail. That way, he could decide whether or not to call me back and no one is pressured to make a split-second decision.
I'm not sure how this is possible for a company to have a St. Louis headquarters but be successful enough to also have not only a location in Chicago but one in the Merchandise Mart AND NOT HAVE VOICEMAIL!!
As a last-ditch effort, I placed my business card with "thanks for the beer. maybe I can return the favor when you're in town" on the back and mailed it to his company.
We'll see.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Fraternizing with the enemy
ST.LOUIS - -Having watched my Cubs lose two games to the rat-bastard Cardinals in Busch Stadium, I entered the park rather quietly on Sunday. The concourse was overflowing with red shirts, my Cubs blue a serious minority hue.
You ever find yourself having a random thought - - not apropo of anything? Well, while strolling to my upper deck seat, my mind drifted back to the guy who is responsible for my Cub fandom. The One That Got Away was a guy I dated in college. We attended a university approximately 2 hours from St. Louis and I actually accompanied him to this city when he had a job interview (for a job he didn't get). I've had no contact with The One in about 20 years, but at that moment I wondered if maybe he lived in St. Louis and horror of horrors!! maybe switched sides and became a Cardinals fan! I shook my head to dispel that crazy idea.
As far as I could see, I was the only Cubs fan in my section. Although I never really trash talk about the opponent, I could see that this was not the time to start.
Redbird Fan and his pal arrived late in the first inning, attired in the red shirts that must be a required uniform in Missouri. Redbird Fan sat to my immediate right in the close quarters of the upper deck.
There was something familiar about him, something that reminded me of The One. Same height, similiar build, same hair color, same age and...no ring (yes, I checked). He was definitely a Cardinals fan, but at one point admitted that he knew people that live near Wrigley and he's been to Chicago several times. In fact, his company has an office in the Merchandise Mart and he was coming to Chicago next week???
I don't remember how we got on the topic of cars, but he told me that he drives a 1967 Lincoln. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. The One drove an old Oldsmobile (another huge boat of a car).
About mid-game, I mentioned that I was driving home after the game and was trying to figure out how to get to the Martin Luther King bridge (one of several bridges that cross the Mississippi River into Illinois). I pulled out my G1 phone with lovely GPS and map features. He pulled out his glasses and we huddled together over the small screen to check out my travel options.
Redbird Fan and his friend left to get beer just as the Cubs started to take a lead. They didn't offer me a beer and I was okay with that since I had a 5-hour drive coming up. I cheered on my boys and tried to ignore the ensuing dirty looks from my section. The remainder of my beer tasted particularly sweet as I watched Chicago put up even more runs.
The Cardinals seemed to have the wind taken out of their sails and the fans near me became pretty quiet. Redbird Fan picked up my empty beer cup, turned to me and said "I haven't taken any yet," and poured about half of his fresh beer into my cup.
I thanked him and toasted to a good rivalry, secretly impressed with this show of gentlemanly generosity. The simple gesture somehow seemed very intimate. It was as if we had an assumed familiarity. Very much like some things The One did when we were together.
The Cubs were leading 10-3 as the ninth inning started, so the Cardinals fans lost the faith and started pouring out of the stadium, including Redbird Fan and his pal.
We were never introduced (although I did catch his first name) . He never asked for my name or my number, but I'm pretty sure his pal (who was married and expecting his first child), harrassed Redbird Fan all the way home for this oversight.
So many guys don't know how to 'close the deal' and Redbird Fan had this characteristic written all over him. Here's the question:
Do I stop at the Merchandise Mart and drop off my business card at his company's office with a note 'thanks for the beer. Go Cubs!' ????
You ever find yourself having a random thought - - not apropo of anything? Well, while strolling to my upper deck seat, my mind drifted back to the guy who is responsible for my Cub fandom. The One That Got Away was a guy I dated in college. We attended a university approximately 2 hours from St. Louis and I actually accompanied him to this city when he had a job interview (for a job he didn't get). I've had no contact with The One in about 20 years, but at that moment I wondered if maybe he lived in St. Louis and horror of horrors!! maybe switched sides and became a Cardinals fan! I shook my head to dispel that crazy idea.
As far as I could see, I was the only Cubs fan in my section. Although I never really trash talk about the opponent, I could see that this was not the time to start.
Redbird Fan and his pal arrived late in the first inning, attired in the red shirts that must be a required uniform in Missouri. Redbird Fan sat to my immediate right in the close quarters of the upper deck.
There was something familiar about him, something that reminded me of The One. Same height, similiar build, same hair color, same age and...no ring (yes, I checked). He was definitely a Cardinals fan, but at one point admitted that he knew people that live near Wrigley and he's been to Chicago several times. In fact, his company has an office in the Merchandise Mart and he was coming to Chicago next week???
I don't remember how we got on the topic of cars, but he told me that he drives a 1967 Lincoln. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. The One drove an old Oldsmobile (another huge boat of a car).
About mid-game, I mentioned that I was driving home after the game and was trying to figure out how to get to the Martin Luther King bridge (one of several bridges that cross the Mississippi River into Illinois). I pulled out my G1 phone with lovely GPS and map features. He pulled out his glasses and we huddled together over the small screen to check out my travel options.
Redbird Fan and his friend left to get beer just as the Cubs started to take a lead. They didn't offer me a beer and I was okay with that since I had a 5-hour drive coming up. I cheered on my boys and tried to ignore the ensuing dirty looks from my section. The remainder of my beer tasted particularly sweet as I watched Chicago put up even more runs.
The Cardinals seemed to have the wind taken out of their sails and the fans near me became pretty quiet. Redbird Fan picked up my empty beer cup, turned to me and said "I haven't taken any yet," and poured about half of his fresh beer into my cup.
I thanked him and toasted to a good rivalry, secretly impressed with this show of gentlemanly generosity. The simple gesture somehow seemed very intimate. It was as if we had an assumed familiarity. Very much like some things The One did when we were together.
The Cubs were leading 10-3 as the ninth inning started, so the Cardinals fans lost the faith and started pouring out of the stadium, including Redbird Fan and his pal.
We were never introduced (although I did catch his first name) . He never asked for my name or my number, but I'm pretty sure his pal (who was married and expecting his first child), harrassed Redbird Fan all the way home for this oversight.
So many guys don't know how to 'close the deal' and Redbird Fan had this characteristic written all over him. Here's the question:
Do I stop at the Merchandise Mart and drop off my business card at his company's office with a note 'thanks for the beer. Go Cubs!' ????
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Spring! Smell the scent of pheremones in the air!
As it was FINALLY warm enough to attend a baseball game without shivering, I decided to watch my Cubs smash the visiting rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals. Riding the elevator in my building, I ran into a young guy I'll call "C Neighbor." Apparently, he was meeting friends in the Wrigleyville neighborhood to watch an NBA playoffs basketball game. No baseball for him.
C Neighbor asked if I want to share a cab and when I tell him that I'm walking (such a beautiful day and all), he asks if he can walk with me. Sure!
Mind you, I've run into C Neighbor a few times either in the laundry room, lobby, elevator or sometimes at my favorite coffee shop down the street. We're not friends really, but not strangers either. Did I mention that we've never actually been introduced?
Anyway, we're walking to Wrigley Field (and people, he walks FASTER than I do!!!) and he lights a cigarette (strike 1), and starts telling me how he doesn't remember much of what happened last night after he drank so much (strike 2). He does remember spending about $200 for a bottle of Effen vodka (retail $40??) and he thinks he might have gotten thrown out of whatever bar they were in (strike 3).
Obviously, this is not a person I plan to spend a lot of time with. Nevertheless, our conversation continues and he's decided that I'm in my mid-30s (could I have underestimated him?) and he'd like to buy me a beer before I go into the game. Oh, and he introduced himself so we could actually call each other by name (geez, what a concept!)
He says he'd like to meet me for breakfast if I was planning to head to the corner cafe near our building. Asks if I go to church on Sundays. (geez! a guy who asks about church?) Said he'd like to go to church but hasn't found one for him (he's not Catholic, but he offered to accompany me some Sunday).
I met his friends at the bar. C Neighbor bought me a beer and tried to confirm the Sunday breakfast plans. I told him he could text me on Sunday and see what my plans were. (Fine! So I gave him my cell phone number, so what?!)
C Neighbor and pals take off to watch the NBA playoffs and I go into Wrigley and say Hello to my 'summer family.' Before the game starts, I get a text from C Neighbor asking if I'd like to meet for a drink later (if my evening plans end early). Told him I'd keep him posted.
Having just bought a pre-game beer from one of my favorite vendors, I turned around just in time to see Cub Man, a guy I dated about 7 years ago. He and a pal are sitting 2 rows in front of me! He stopped to give me a hug and later sent a beer vendor over with a second refreshment for me. Mid-game, we made tentative plans to stop for ONE BEER after the game (since both Cub Man's pal and I had separate evening plans). He asked if I still lived (over there, as he pointed in the direction of my high-rise building).
When the game went into extra innings, Cub Man and pal took off. (Of course I was staying till the end!) Cub Man gave me another hug and said I looked great. I said it was nice to see him (it was, actually, since I didn't run into him at any games last year and that's unusual).
After my Cubs pulled off the 11th-inning victory, I ran home to get cleaned up for a black-tie optional charity event for which I had bought a last-minute ticket.
Black formal gown, spiderweb-designed hose and a messy pile of blond curls atop my head, I thought it was a pretty good effort for short notice as I jumped into a cab only 45 minutes late for the start of this casino night/silent auction.
Fifties Frank started off nice enough, complimenting me on my dress??. Wait, no, he said I had a great body (or something to that effect). We discussed the auction for a little while and in just a few minutes, I knew ENTIRELY too much about his family, their struggles with weight (he wasn't fat, but not thin either) and where he fit in the birth order of his large family (youngest of nine, strange coincidence, huh?), and his recent occupational roller-coaster.
What started out as innocent conversation became a sticky trap and since I had no wingman, there was no one to pull me out. When the inevitable request for a phone number came, I had to sink to an excuse of bad timing (implying that I wasn't available to date). He was nice about it, but nevertheless, I took the opportunity to end the evening.
On the taxi ride home, I assessed the day's activities...beer (and potential breakfast) with C Neighbor, another beer (and cancelled third one) with Cub Man and charity auction smalltalk with Fifties Frank (so named for the horned-rimmed glasses and military-short hair).
Not a bad warm up for Summer 2009, right?
C Neighbor asked if I want to share a cab and when I tell him that I'm walking (such a beautiful day and all), he asks if he can walk with me. Sure!
Mind you, I've run into C Neighbor a few times either in the laundry room, lobby, elevator or sometimes at my favorite coffee shop down the street. We're not friends really, but not strangers either. Did I mention that we've never actually been introduced?
Anyway, we're walking to Wrigley Field (and people, he walks FASTER than I do!!!) and he lights a cigarette (strike 1), and starts telling me how he doesn't remember much of what happened last night after he drank so much (strike 2). He does remember spending about $200 for a bottle of Effen vodka (retail $40??) and he thinks he might have gotten thrown out of whatever bar they were in (strike 3).
Obviously, this is not a person I plan to spend a lot of time with. Nevertheless, our conversation continues and he's decided that I'm in my mid-30s (could I have underestimated him?) and he'd like to buy me a beer before I go into the game. Oh, and he introduced himself so we could actually call each other by name (geez, what a concept!)
He says he'd like to meet me for breakfast if I was planning to head to the corner cafe near our building. Asks if I go to church on Sundays. (geez! a guy who asks about church?) Said he'd like to go to church but hasn't found one for him (he's not Catholic, but he offered to accompany me some Sunday).
I met his friends at the bar. C Neighbor bought me a beer and tried to confirm the Sunday breakfast plans. I told him he could text me on Sunday and see what my plans were. (Fine! So I gave him my cell phone number, so what?!)
C Neighbor and pals take off to watch the NBA playoffs and I go into Wrigley and say Hello to my 'summer family.' Before the game starts, I get a text from C Neighbor asking if I'd like to meet for a drink later (if my evening plans end early). Told him I'd keep him posted.
Having just bought a pre-game beer from one of my favorite vendors, I turned around just in time to see Cub Man, a guy I dated about 7 years ago. He and a pal are sitting 2 rows in front of me! He stopped to give me a hug and later sent a beer vendor over with a second refreshment for me. Mid-game, we made tentative plans to stop for ONE BEER after the game (since both Cub Man's pal and I had separate evening plans). He asked if I still lived (over there, as he pointed in the direction of my high-rise building).
When the game went into extra innings, Cub Man and pal took off. (Of course I was staying till the end!) Cub Man gave me another hug and said I looked great. I said it was nice to see him (it was, actually, since I didn't run into him at any games last year and that's unusual).
After my Cubs pulled off the 11th-inning victory, I ran home to get cleaned up for a black-tie optional charity event for which I had bought a last-minute ticket.
Black formal gown, spiderweb-designed hose and a messy pile of blond curls atop my head, I thought it was a pretty good effort for short notice as I jumped into a cab only 45 minutes late for the start of this casino night/silent auction.
Fifties Frank started off nice enough, complimenting me on my dress??. Wait, no, he said I had a great body (or something to that effect). We discussed the auction for a little while and in just a few minutes, I knew ENTIRELY too much about his family, their struggles with weight (he wasn't fat, but not thin either) and where he fit in the birth order of his large family (youngest of nine, strange coincidence, huh?), and his recent occupational roller-coaster.
What started out as innocent conversation became a sticky trap and since I had no wingman, there was no one to pull me out. When the inevitable request for a phone number came, I had to sink to an excuse of bad timing (implying that I wasn't available to date). He was nice about it, but nevertheless, I took the opportunity to end the evening.
On the taxi ride home, I assessed the day's activities...beer (and potential breakfast) with C Neighbor, another beer (and cancelled third one) with Cub Man and charity auction smalltalk with Fifties Frank (so named for the horned-rimmed glasses and military-short hair).
Not a bad warm up for Summer 2009, right?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
New baseball on the horizon
The envelope arrived and I was sooo excited to open it. On a whim, I ordered tickets for an August baseball series between my Chicago Cubs and the Colorado Rockies...not down the street at Wrigley Field, but in Denver! I got airfare at a decent price and found a GREAT price at a very nice hotel in "LoDo" (which is what they call downtown Denver).
Never been to Denver, much less to Coors Field, but I hear they're both pretty nice. The upcoming trip made me think of all the ballparks I've been to...
Brutal!
Never been to Denver, much less to Coors Field, but I hear they're both pretty nice. The upcoming trip made me think of all the ballparks I've been to...
- New York Yankees - (old) Yankee Stadium (not nearly as big as its reputation and its history)
- New York Mets - (old) Shea Stadium
- Boston Red Sox - Fenway Park (a dump that makes Wrigley look like new construction even though Fenway as built in 1912 and Wrigley Field in 1914).
- Baltimore Orioles - Camden Yards (great ballpark that could've been the home of the Chicago White Sox if the cheap-bastard owner would've paid the architects what they deserved!)
- Atlanta Braves - (old) Fulton County Stadium (okay, it was for the Olympic baseball games in 1996, does that count?)
- Pittsburgh Pirates - PNC Park (supposedly one of the nicest of the new ballparks, but a Pittsburgh native told me it's the same as Cincinnati's park, just different colored bricks)
- Cincinnati Reds - Great American Ballpark (nice old-fashioned new ballpark right on the riverfront)
- Toronto Blue Jays - The Rogers Centre, formerly the Sky Dome (Strange place that was sooo state-of-the-art way back in 1989!)
- Washington Nationals - (old) RFK Stadium (shitty football stadium that played a poor host to a newly reborn baseball team)
- Washington Nationals - (new) Nationals Park (where Cubs centerfielder Reed "Gumby" Johnson made an AMAZING diving catch last year!)
- Florida Marlins - Pro Player Stadium (another shitty football stadium that begrudgingly hosted baseball...and didn't look happy about it)
- St.Louis Cardinals - (old) Busch Stadium
- St. Louis Cardinals (new) Busch Stadium (actually not a bad place to watch baseball; has a cool cut-out centerfield where the Arch is front and center; upper deck railing is only about 2 1/2 feet high...someone's gonna take a dive off that, you just watch!)
- Chicago Cubs - Wrigley Field (best place to watch baseball...EVER!)
- Chicago White Sox - (old) Comiskey Park (had a working shower in the centerfield bleachers!)
- Chicago White Sox (new) U.S. Cellular Field (nicknamed The Cell, probably because so many people end up in jail during the ballgames there...kicked out for fighting.)
- Milwaukee Brewers - (old) County Stadium (practically CREATED the sporting tradition of the pre-game tailgate party)
- Milwaukee Brewers - (new) Miller Park (nice park, but you can stand on the concourse and not even hear the action on the field...weird!)
Brutal!
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Mini brow
Use your imagination a little bit, but you can't tell me that this remnant of my recent surgery (scar left over from 'belly cam') doesn't look like...
add a little mascara and eyeliner and you're there!
...this!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
14 days till Cubs Home Opener
Poor Harry Caray! It's just two weeks till he's front and center of the Cubs Home Opener 2009, but today he's freezing in the cold of a spring snowstorm.
Before I can start thinking of baseball in earnest, I guess I could do like these guys are doing and make the best of the March snow. But can I get anyone to pull me UP the hill?
Okay, these guys are just nuts, but I think that's a prerequisite for smelt fishing. If the lake isn't frozen over, these guys (and many more like them) are out there day and night! Crazy!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
"If you'd rather give up than fight, then nothing will really be worth it."
Five bucks if anyone can name the movie that line is from.
GalPal and I were BFF throughout high school and college, even standing up in each other's weddings. Not too long after her second wedding (don't ask) and my first, I was chatting with her mother about random stuff. I had stopped by BFF's parent's house to return the crinoline slip that I had borrowed to wear under my own wedding gown (something borrowed, something blue). Having such a long friendship, BFF and I knew each other's families pretty well.
A few weeks go by and I'm opening mail that arrived while I was out of the country on vacation with my husband. It's a letter from BFF. Strange to get a letter from her since she lived only a mile or two away.
In short, BFF decided that we were no longer friends. Apparently, she heard second- or third- hand that I had said something about her second husband not being good enough for her. My mouth dropped open. I know I never said that because I don't remember even thinking that. In fact, her second husband was a distant relative of mine and I'd never even met him until he starting dating BFF. I didn't know enough about him in his pre-BFF days to have much of an opinion at all.
I tried to figure out how this all started and I can't imagine who would've told her such a thing. But we'd been friends for over 10 years at this point so I was sure we could talk about it, clear it up and we'd probably laugh about it in years to come.
No phone call.
Ever.
So just like that, I've lost a friend. I've lost my best friend - someone I could tell anything to. Someone who would laugh so long and so hard with me that we ran out of breath at the exact same time and then started laughing all over again. The first person you call when something fantastic...or horrible...or funny happens. That person.
Executed without so much as a trial.
Years have passed and she's crept into my mind occasionally, wondering how many kids they have (since she's wanted to have a baby ever since we met in high school). I've even come across her name on the internet.
But I've made no effort to contact her. If she had put one-tenth of the value on our friendship that I did, she wouldn't have abandoned our friendship without a fight.
Oh, the line is from "The Wedding Date." Good movie, if only for the music.
GalPal and I were BFF throughout high school and college, even standing up in each other's weddings. Not too long after her second wedding (don't ask) and my first, I was chatting with her mother about random stuff. I had stopped by BFF's parent's house to return the crinoline slip that I had borrowed to wear under my own wedding gown (something borrowed, something blue). Having such a long friendship, BFF and I knew each other's families pretty well.
A few weeks go by and I'm opening mail that arrived while I was out of the country on vacation with my husband. It's a letter from BFF. Strange to get a letter from her since she lived only a mile or two away.
In short, BFF decided that we were no longer friends. Apparently, she heard second- or third- hand that I had said something about her second husband not being good enough for her. My mouth dropped open. I know I never said that because I don't remember even thinking that. In fact, her second husband was a distant relative of mine and I'd never even met him until he starting dating BFF. I didn't know enough about him in his pre-BFF days to have much of an opinion at all.
I tried to figure out how this all started and I can't imagine who would've told her such a thing. But we'd been friends for over 10 years at this point so I was sure we could talk about it, clear it up and we'd probably laugh about it in years to come.
No phone call.
Ever.
So just like that, I've lost a friend. I've lost my best friend - someone I could tell anything to. Someone who would laugh so long and so hard with me that we ran out of breath at the exact same time and then started laughing all over again. The first person you call when something fantastic...or horrible...or funny happens. That person.
Executed without so much as a trial.
Years have passed and she's crept into my mind occasionally, wondering how many kids they have (since she's wanted to have a baby ever since we met in high school). I've even come across her name on the internet.
But I've made no effort to contact her. If she had put one-tenth of the value on our friendship that I did, she wouldn't have abandoned our friendship without a fight.
Oh, the line is from "The Wedding Date." Good movie, if only for the music.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Hello Goodbye Window
I need to preface this by saying that I'm not in love, haven't been in a long time. I haven't been crushed by some random fella either.This is just the observation that resulted from some recent conversation with someone I thought I could trust.
It was the name of a children's book, one of the many I re-shelved tonight on my volunteer night of service. It made me think of all the things we thought we knew when we were young...and stupid.
With age comes wisdom, right?
When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you sleep. When you have to go pee, you go pee. Basic bodily functions that we all understand.
Is sex just a basic bodily function? Just a way to relieve stress, anger, frustration or whatever ails a person at that moment? Nothing more?
Throughout my life, I've met guys who seem to categorize sex as a basic bodily function. No emotional attachment, no intimacy (or as little as you can get away with until she's naked), much less committment. Just something to do for fun and function. Just remember to wear a rubber!
Granted, there are women who feel this way about sex, too. Call me naive, but I think most of them make a ton of money off their attitude. This reminds me of a saying I once heard, maybe you're familiar with it: 'Men give love to get sex. Women give sex to get love.'
I met so many men with the sex-for-fun attitude that they all started to blend into one another, like zebras in a pack. You'd think by now I'd be able to spot one a mile away.
Nope.
It was the name of a children's book, one of the many I re-shelved tonight on my volunteer night of service. It made me think of all the things we thought we knew when we were young...and stupid.
With age comes wisdom, right?
When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you sleep. When you have to go pee, you go pee. Basic bodily functions that we all understand.
Is sex just a basic bodily function? Just a way to relieve stress, anger, frustration or whatever ails a person at that moment? Nothing more?
Throughout my life, I've met guys who seem to categorize sex as a basic bodily function. No emotional attachment, no intimacy (or as little as you can get away with until she's naked), much less committment. Just something to do for fun and function. Just remember to wear a rubber!
Granted, there are women who feel this way about sex, too. Call me naive, but I think most of them make a ton of money off their attitude. This reminds me of a saying I once heard, maybe you're familiar with it: 'Men give love to get sex. Women give sex to get love.'
I met so many men with the sex-for-fun attitude that they all started to blend into one another, like zebras in a pack. You'd think by now I'd be able to spot one a mile away.
Nope.
Spring? Yeah, right!
So I stopped into my local Subway to grab a quick lunch. I've been to this location several times recently because 1) it's close to my office and 2) I had coupons (yes, I'm all about saving $$ where I can.)
When I ordered red onions on my sandwich, the Subway worker said, 'not kissing anybody today?'
'Not today, not yesterday and no plans for tomorrow,' I answered without missing a beat.
How sad is that?
When I ordered red onions on my sandwich, the Subway worker said, 'not kissing anybody today?'
'Not today, not yesterday and no plans for tomorrow,' I answered without missing a beat.
How sad is that?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Signs of spring in Chicago
You know spring has come to Chicago (finally!!!) when...
- The neighborhood Lions Club (or Elks Club or Masons) have all-you-can-eat pancake breakfasts in the local schools.
- Girl Scouts (and their mothers) set up card tables outside the usual Saturday errand locales, i.e. the bank, the dry cleaner, the grocery store, etc. Two boxes of Thin Mints are chilling nicely in my freezer. Yum!!
- Baseball can be heard (on the radio, at least)! And pools are aplenty for March Madness college basketball.
- Random strangers will compliment me. The other day while at lunch at Subway, a complete stranger stopped on his way out the door and said, "I just couldn't leave without telling you that you are beautiful."
- Women under 30 years old will see the thermometer creep above 40 degrees F and immediately whip out the flip flops, tank tops and short skirts.
Monday, March 09, 2009
How many days till Opening Day???
Micah Hoffpauir takes a huge cut in front of a hot & sweaty crowd in Mesa during Chicago Cubs Spring Training 2009. It was 88 degrees F and a lovely blue sky.
In uniform, the players all tend to look alike (sort of), but this is Sam Fuld signing autographs after a game. Sam had a short call-up to the major leagues two years ago but true Cub fans will remember him for a great play in right field where he crashed into the ivy-covered wall, made the catch and then doubled the runner off first! Fabulous!
The team bursts out of the dugout and the game begins! Can summer be far behind? (Sorry for the thru-the-fence view).
First baseman Derrek Lee is 6-feet-5 inches tall. Aaron Miles, our newest infielder, is.....not.
Manager Lou Piniella (from left), first base coach Matt Sinatro, and bench coach Alan Trammel chill out during the early innings during a Spring Training game. General Manager Jim Hendry (first row behind the wall) is, as usual, on his cell phone, no doubt working on another trade.
Sam Fuld (again) in mid-bubble with one of our many new Cubs faces. So new that I'm not sure who it is?!!?
Outfielder Reed Johnson has been given the nickname "Gumby" because of his tremendous flexibility and athletic prowess. No one wants to stretch out with him. Who gave him that name? Okay, it was me.
Spring Training's a great time to get autographs, even if it's name from a household name. Someone once told me that you take a player's uniform number, subtract it from 100 and that's the percent chance he has of making the team...Well, it was nice of them to sign anyway.
The bright sun and the high blue Arizona sky make for perfect weather to warm up before the crowds arrive.
Early in Spring Training, it's not uncommon to see a lineup where you hardly recognize any players' names. Not today for the Cubs as Alfonso Soriano leads off a team with many familiar faces.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
More blood and guts
These photos could be considered just gross or totally interesting, depending on your point of view. Thought I'd be sick looking at my own guts, but found it terribly fascinating once I knew what was going on.
The massive blob on the right is the larger of the two fibroids that was removed in a six-hour surgery. According to the surgeon, who described it as a cantalope, the thing weighed almost one full pound (556 grams). You can see blood vessels all over it including the bulging artery? vein? at the bottom that's wrapped around it. If my doc had damaged that thing, say bye-bye to ever saying 'baby.' Scary shit, huh?
The Grand Canyon of stomach cavities where the evil fibroid blob once resided. Too big to stitch closed apparently, so they did the next best thing (see below).
This is the mesh stuff that the surgeon inserted to grow as a cover for the hole. How they were able to do all this garbage-out, repair materials in I'll never know. But they did and it's 10 days later and except for a ridiculously low energy level (for me, at least), I feel pretty good. My surgeon is a magician!
The massive blob on the right is the larger of the two fibroids that was removed in a six-hour surgery. According to the surgeon, who described it as a cantalope, the thing weighed almost one full pound (556 grams). You can see blood vessels all over it including the bulging artery? vein? at the bottom that's wrapped around it. If my doc had damaged that thing, say bye-bye to ever saying 'baby.' Scary shit, huh?
The Grand Canyon of stomach cavities where the evil fibroid blob once resided. Too big to stitch closed apparently, so they did the next best thing (see below).
This is the mesh stuff that the surgeon inserted to grow as a cover for the hole. How they were able to do all this garbage-out, repair materials in I'll never know. But they did and it's 10 days later and except for a ridiculously low energy level (for me, at least), I feel pretty good. My surgeon is a magician!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Favor granted
I've been so busy stressing about this fibroid surgery that I hadn't given any thought to a far more important drama that was taking place in Florida recently.
My mother, from whom I have been trying to hide my medical issues, has been in Florida since before Christmas, watching her only sister suffer from cancer.
Obviously, it's much easier to hide a situation from someone who has no geographical proximity to the situation. Hence, my mom hasn't a clue that I had surgery last week.
In a tiny little corner of my self-absorbed brain, I hoped that my aunt would hold on long enough that my mother wouldn't be flying home while I was still in the hospital. Can one person BE so self-centered? Apparently the answer is yes.
Surgery was Wednesday, I was home on Thursday and my aunt passed away on Friday morning. My mother is staying in Florida for a few more days and then flying home on Thursday. By then, I expect to be adequately recuperated to continue our tradition of Saturday morning breakfasts.
Thank you, Aunt D. We'll miss you.
My mother, from whom I have been trying to hide my medical issues, has been in Florida since before Christmas, watching her only sister suffer from cancer.
Obviously, it's much easier to hide a situation from someone who has no geographical proximity to the situation. Hence, my mom hasn't a clue that I had surgery last week.
In a tiny little corner of my self-absorbed brain, I hoped that my aunt would hold on long enough that my mother wouldn't be flying home while I was still in the hospital. Can one person BE so self-centered? Apparently the answer is yes.
Surgery was Wednesday, I was home on Thursday and my aunt passed away on Friday morning. My mother is staying in Florida for a few more days and then flying home on Thursday. By then, I expect to be adequately recuperated to continue our tradition of Saturday morning breakfasts.
Thank you, Aunt D. We'll miss you.
Friday, February 06, 2009
If you're going to have a first surgery, might as well go BIG!
Pre-Op belly..
NOTE: IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH ABOUT BLOOD-AND-GUTS STORIES, DO NOT READ FURTHER.
As of one or two weeks ago, I was facing a minor surgery to remove six, count 'em SIX, fibroids. For those of you who haven't Googled this stuff, a fibroid is a non-cancerous growth that often grows inside women over 35. Sometimes they cause problems, sometimes not. They go away on their own when a woman starts menopause. Lovely, huh?
So, you can imagine my surprise when I woke up after a SIX-HOUR surgery that involved removing just two fibroids. No big deal, right? Two is better than six. When the surgeon used the word 'cantalope' to describe the size of one of the fibroids, that's when I really woke up!
Imagine a small football (15+ cm) lodged between a bunch of...let's call them 'girlie bits.' The issue, it seemed was not only the size of the growth, but the fact that wrapped around this offending blob was a crucial blood vessel and another pretty important ligament.
DaVinci robot to the rescue! This amazing bit of machinery helped my doctor to not only disconnect the vital artery without spraying blood all over the operating room, but also to chop up this blob into tiny bits that he could remove through a tiny incision. My doctor is a magician!
I wondered why I haven't been hungry in, oh, a month or two, but it seems this offending mass was pushing everything else out of its way. Ovaries smoooshed to the side, uterus squished to a tiny mass. It wasn't pretty. I saw some wonderfully graphic photos (which I hope to show here) that were taken by the surgeon during surgery. Cool stuff (if you don't puke looking at it) that showed how HUGE this fibroid was in comparison to the normal size of my uterus, liver, ovaries and other things you read about in eighth grade biology.
While trying to chop up this mass, the doctors were concerned they might not only nick the blood vessel but also might accidently disconnect my urethra (tube that allows pee to flow from the bladder outside the body). So, they did what any concientious doctor would do, they dyed my pee BLUE! You can imagine my surprise when I woke up and discovered Kool-Aid in my catheter.
My surgeon further explained that before they could even try to get to this huge growth, they had to blow me up, balloon-style, with a ton of gas to expand my inside and give them room to work. No big deal, except that my belly looks like a beer-swilling trucker's gut. Apparently, the gas also settles into strange spots like my shoulders and my neck so I really felt like I'd been run over by a truck. Weird. Guess I'll have to wait for the flat stomach that I was counting on.
Once the blob was gone, the surgeons realized that they couldn't just sew closed the remaining hole (too big). So, I have a sheet of some kind of mesh that they attached to the gap. How they were able to move all of these materials into and out of me with only the tiny holes remaining is pretty incredible. Kinda like moving a king-size bed through a car window.
Here...look.
NOTE: IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH ABOUT BLOOD-AND-GUTS STORIES, DO NOT READ FURTHER.
As of one or two weeks ago, I was facing a minor surgery to remove six, count 'em SIX, fibroids. For those of you who haven't Googled this stuff, a fibroid is a non-cancerous growth that often grows inside women over 35. Sometimes they cause problems, sometimes not. They go away on their own when a woman starts menopause. Lovely, huh?
So, you can imagine my surprise when I woke up after a SIX-HOUR surgery that involved removing just two fibroids. No big deal, right? Two is better than six. When the surgeon used the word 'cantalope' to describe the size of one of the fibroids, that's when I really woke up!
Imagine a small football (15+ cm) lodged between a bunch of...let's call them 'girlie bits.' The issue, it seemed was not only the size of the growth, but the fact that wrapped around this offending blob was a crucial blood vessel and another pretty important ligament.
DaVinci robot to the rescue! This amazing bit of machinery helped my doctor to not only disconnect the vital artery without spraying blood all over the operating room, but also to chop up this blob into tiny bits that he could remove through a tiny incision. My doctor is a magician!
I wondered why I haven't been hungry in, oh, a month or two, but it seems this offending mass was pushing everything else out of its way. Ovaries smoooshed to the side, uterus squished to a tiny mass. It wasn't pretty. I saw some wonderfully graphic photos (which I hope to show here) that were taken by the surgeon during surgery. Cool stuff (if you don't puke looking at it) that showed how HUGE this fibroid was in comparison to the normal size of my uterus, liver, ovaries and other things you read about in eighth grade biology.
While trying to chop up this mass, the doctors were concerned they might not only nick the blood vessel but also might accidently disconnect my urethra (tube that allows pee to flow from the bladder outside the body). So, they did what any concientious doctor would do, they dyed my pee BLUE! You can imagine my surprise when I woke up and discovered Kool-Aid in my catheter.
My surgeon further explained that before they could even try to get to this huge growth, they had to blow me up, balloon-style, with a ton of gas to expand my inside and give them room to work. No big deal, except that my belly looks like a beer-swilling trucker's gut. Apparently, the gas also settles into strange spots like my shoulders and my neck so I really felt like I'd been run over by a truck. Weird. Guess I'll have to wait for the flat stomach that I was counting on.
Once the blob was gone, the surgeons realized that they couldn't just sew closed the remaining hole (too big). So, I have a sheet of some kind of mesh that they attached to the gap. How they were able to move all of these materials into and out of me with only the tiny holes remaining is pretty incredible. Kinda like moving a king-size bed through a car window.
Here...look.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
No MJ, just me
We had just arrived at the United Center and found Section 122, Row 5. I couldn't help but think that 10 years ago, I could've sold a kidney and not gotten these great seats. Of course, back then, Michael Jordan was shaking powder off his hands right there at the scorer's desk Ahhh, those were the days!
A few months back, I went to a charity event and bid on a few silent auction items. I love to check out the options and scribble my name and a nominal bid, just to get things started. One item really caught my eye. It was titled 'Sports Lover's Dream' and it included (get ready for this), tickets to the Cubs (baseball), Sox (baseball, I guess), Blackhawks (ice hockey), Wolves (more ice hockey) and Bulls (basketball).
How many women do you know that would drool over a silent auction item like this? Seriously, stop and think about it...I'll wait.
Okay, you know at least ONE! (or, in this case, three)
The Bulls were able to make free throws. It was the shots from the floor (while moving) that gave them a bit of trouble.
I think it's very cool to see how high these guys can jump. Where's he when I need something off the top shelf?
This the greatest toy I think I've EVER seen! And he lives in the rafters of the United Center.
A few months back, I went to a charity event and bid on a few silent auction items. I love to check out the options and scribble my name and a nominal bid, just to get things started. One item really caught my eye. It was titled 'Sports Lover's Dream' and it included (get ready for this), tickets to the Cubs (baseball), Sox (baseball, I guess), Blackhawks (ice hockey), Wolves (more ice hockey) and Bulls (basketball).
How many women do you know that would drool over a silent auction item like this? Seriously, stop and think about it...I'll wait.
Okay, you know at least ONE! (or, in this case, three)
The Bulls were able to make free throws. It was the shots from the floor (while moving) that gave them a bit of trouble.
I think it's very cool to see how high these guys can jump. Where's he when I need something off the top shelf?
This the greatest toy I think I've EVER seen! And he lives in the rafters of the United Center.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A first time for everything
Turns out, I'm going to be having surgery. Just as an aside, if anyone reading this knows my family, please do NOT tell them. I'll explain why in a few minutes.
First off, it's not major. In fact, it's out-patient (but I don't think the hospital will let ever-independent me take a taxi home, so I'll have to work on that). It's 'a girl thing' and I'll just leave it at that. NO! I'm not pregnant! You have to have sex for that, if I recall the details of Health Class correctly. Trouble is, there's a two-week recovery time.
Oh, did I mention that this will be my FIRST EVER surgery?? Yep, I've survived life on this planet without so much as an appendix scar. No broken bones, no sprained ankles. The worst 'injury' I've ever had is chicken pox. I figured God was saving up all of my aches and pains and then when I turned 50, I'd get hit by a truck!
Anyway, the organized side of me is trying to make sure my job responsibilities are covered. How f'd up is that? Anyway, the woman that filled in for me during my Australia trip said she'll be available. Probably. Since I haven't scheduled this yet, she's not positive.
My regular doctor told me about the recovery time, but I haven't spoken to the surgeon yet. (Geez! How grown-up this all sounds!) I have a few things to ask him since I'm new to this whole 'operation' thing.
Anyhow, one of our new colleagues has offered to pick me up from the hospital and tuck me in at home and even check up on me. She's only been at the company a few weeks, but we've really hit it off, even going to the Bulls game together the other night. And since she's in my age group, single, a Cubs fan and lives about a mile from me, this could be (borrowing from Bogie), 'the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'
So the ride home is covered (and I can take a taxi to the hospital, no worries there).
The Tour Guide suggested I ask my gay neighbors to keep an eye on me while I'm recuperating and I think that's a fab idea. I'll grab a bottle of wine and stop over in the next few days to see if they'll be around.
Even my Mexican friends who work at the neighborhood breakfast joint have offered to go grocery shopping for me while I'm down. How great are these people?
Why am I not letting my mother take over the mom-ing part and just stay at her house for the entire recuperating time? I could be waited on hand-and-foot for two whole weeks! This is the kind of thing my mother LIVES for!
Well, she's been in Florida since pre-Christmas caring for her terminally ill sister (her only sister). Do I really want her to have to choose between her dying younger sister and her temporarily-incapacitated youngest daughter?
Nope.
Because my Mom might just choose incorrectly and fly home to care for me. And if (while watching me sleep on her sofa) her sister dies, how is she going to feel for not being there to say goodbye?
Getting the picture?
The second choice would naturally be one of my sisters who happens to be a nurse. Yep, she'd be the perfect advocate, talking medical stuff with my surgeon and making sure I'm propery drugged up. Couldn't ask for a more perfect sibling in this situation.
Except that she would rat me out to my mother the first chance she got. Why? Because she's like that.
I've already got books, magazines, cable TV, the internet and new Google phone to keep me busy, but I'll let you know when the big day is. Stay tuned.
First off, it's not major. In fact, it's out-patient (but I don't think the hospital will let ever-independent me take a taxi home, so I'll have to work on that). It's 'a girl thing' and I'll just leave it at that. NO! I'm not pregnant! You have to have sex for that, if I recall the details of Health Class correctly. Trouble is, there's a two-week recovery time.
Oh, did I mention that this will be my FIRST EVER surgery?? Yep, I've survived life on this planet without so much as an appendix scar. No broken bones, no sprained ankles. The worst 'injury' I've ever had is chicken pox. I figured God was saving up all of my aches and pains and then when I turned 50, I'd get hit by a truck!
Anyway, the organized side of me is trying to make sure my job responsibilities are covered. How f'd up is that? Anyway, the woman that filled in for me during my Australia trip said she'll be available. Probably. Since I haven't scheduled this yet, she's not positive.
My regular doctor told me about the recovery time, but I haven't spoken to the surgeon yet. (Geez! How grown-up this all sounds!) I have a few things to ask him since I'm new to this whole 'operation' thing.
Anyhow, one of our new colleagues has offered to pick me up from the hospital and tuck me in at home and even check up on me. She's only been at the company a few weeks, but we've really hit it off, even going to the Bulls game together the other night. And since she's in my age group, single, a Cubs fan and lives about a mile from me, this could be (borrowing from Bogie), 'the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'
So the ride home is covered (and I can take a taxi to the hospital, no worries there).
The Tour Guide suggested I ask my gay neighbors to keep an eye on me while I'm recuperating and I think that's a fab idea. I'll grab a bottle of wine and stop over in the next few days to see if they'll be around.
Even my Mexican friends who work at the neighborhood breakfast joint have offered to go grocery shopping for me while I'm down. How great are these people?
Why am I not letting my mother take over the mom-ing part and just stay at her house for the entire recuperating time? I could be waited on hand-and-foot for two whole weeks! This is the kind of thing my mother LIVES for!
Well, she's been in Florida since pre-Christmas caring for her terminally ill sister (her only sister). Do I really want her to have to choose between her dying younger sister and her temporarily-incapacitated youngest daughter?
Nope.
Because my Mom might just choose incorrectly and fly home to care for me. And if (while watching me sleep on her sofa) her sister dies, how is she going to feel for not being there to say goodbye?
Getting the picture?
The second choice would naturally be one of my sisters who happens to be a nurse. Yep, she'd be the perfect advocate, talking medical stuff with my surgeon and making sure I'm propery drugged up. Couldn't ask for a more perfect sibling in this situation.
Except that she would rat me out to my mother the first chance she got. Why? Because she's like that.
I've already got books, magazines, cable TV, the internet and new Google phone to keep me busy, but I'll let you know when the big day is. Stay tuned.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
The thighs they are a-burnin'
So I move a little more gingerly lately, what's the big deal? And if I use my hands to steady myself as I sit down, so what? Occasionally I might groan when crouching to pick up something. No big deal.
I've started on '30 Day Shred,' the evil, mean-spirited, torture DVD put out by Jillian Michaels, one of the trainers on 'The Biggest Loser.'
I'm not fat by any measure, but I'm bigger than I want to be and that's enough for me.
In all honesty, Level 1 was a TINY bit easier on this second workout. I thought I would pass out the first time I did it, but tonight's efforts didn't make me want to fling the DVD out my window. I actually appreciated Michaels' comments of encouragement (although they were mostly drowned out by my own internal commentary that consisted of stuff like, 'quit bitching and just do it, you cow!')
There are a total of nine of us women at my office doing this workout routine (or maybe just me, most of the others have been on vacation for Christmas and New Years.) If everyone else is walking around like the Tin Man without his oil, then I'll know we're on the right track.
As for the DVD, it's broken down into three levels. You advance whenever you feel ready (which I guess means when you don't feel like puking after the workout). The first level is divided into three parts: 3 minutes strength training, 2 minutes of cardio and 1 minute of abs. Doesn't sound like much, does it?
Having a small clock on my computer screen alongside the exercise demonstrations is quite helpful. The entire workout is 20 minutes (three times the three-part routine plus 2 minutes of warm-up and cool down). There is NO, I repeat, NO stopping during the workout.
A few things I've learned about myself and exercise:
I've started on '30 Day Shred,' the evil, mean-spirited, torture DVD put out by Jillian Michaels, one of the trainers on 'The Biggest Loser.'
I'm not fat by any measure, but I'm bigger than I want to be and that's enough for me.
In all honesty, Level 1 was a TINY bit easier on this second workout. I thought I would pass out the first time I did it, but tonight's efforts didn't make me want to fling the DVD out my window. I actually appreciated Michaels' comments of encouragement (although they were mostly drowned out by my own internal commentary that consisted of stuff like, 'quit bitching and just do it, you cow!')
There are a total of nine of us women at my office doing this workout routine (or maybe just me, most of the others have been on vacation for Christmas and New Years.) If everyone else is walking around like the Tin Man without his oil, then I'll know we're on the right track.
As for the DVD, it's broken down into three levels. You advance whenever you feel ready (which I guess means when you don't feel like puking after the workout). The first level is divided into three parts: 3 minutes strength training, 2 minutes of cardio and 1 minute of abs. Doesn't sound like much, does it?
Having a small clock on my computer screen alongside the exercise demonstrations is quite helpful. The entire workout is 20 minutes (three times the three-part routine plus 2 minutes of warm-up and cool down). There is NO, I repeat, NO stopping during the workout.
A few things I've learned about myself and exercise:
- I can't drink water before I exercise or I want to throw up during jumping jacks
- I need to use the toilet before I start or else....
- I'm not hungry when I finish the workout. Thirsty? Yes, but not hungry. Weird.
- A four-year-old photo of myself in a bikini posted on my refrigerator is a wonderful motivator.
- Writing my level of workout and time exercised on a calendar posted on my wall is showing my level of dedication. To no one but me, but I'm just saying..
- Leaving my hand weights and workout mat in the middle of my living room floor is a not-so-subtle reminder to myself of my obligation.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Payback is wonderful!
A knock on my door had me scrambling for my bathrobe as I had been online shopping in my jammies. My neighbor was standing there holding my Pyrex dish. I had given him and his partner the dish full of the delicious beef stew that I had made almost two weeks ago to ward off the cold of the Chicago winter.
Since I hadn't seen my dish since then, I figured they might have dropped it and were now guiltily searching for a replacement. It seemed heavy in my hands...and cold.
"I made you flan," my neighbor said as I looked down into the creamy dessert goodness.
I LOVE having gay men as neighbors!
Since I hadn't seen my dish since then, I figured they might have dropped it and were now guiltily searching for a replacement. It seemed heavy in my hands...and cold.
"I made you flan," my neighbor said as I looked down into the creamy dessert goodness.
I LOVE having gay men as neighbors!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)