Yes, I've been gone awhile. I apologize. But for today's post, I decided it would be worth it to stay late at the office and get this down, especially since it just happened.
But first, some background.
For those of you that don't know, I work for a foreign-based company and over the years, I've worked with people from Germany, Ireland, Spain, India, Luxembourg, England, Scotland, Austria, China and, of course, some US folks. The mix often provides many humorous moments as we all struggle to understand each other's habits, cultures and languages.
Since I've been here the longest, I've taken it upon myself to start a secret 'bad accent' contest. It was inadvertantly initiated by a former colleague who is now back in the home office in Germany. Like many Germans, he cannot hear the difference between the letters 'v' and 'w.' Of course, this can be slightly problematic.
One day several years ago, my coworkers were trying to decide where to go for lunch. My contest-starter asked who wanted to go for "weggie burgers."
Let the game begin!
A few years went by and some co-workers left and others arrived, including one wonderfully lively fellow from Barcelona, Spain. The Spaniard returned from a lengthy vacation looking very tan and relaxed.
I welcomed him back and asked him how his trip was.
"Fan-tastic! I spent three weeks on a bitch."
Whoa! I think there could be an award in it for him.
And that brings us to today...about 15 minutes ago, to be exact.
Another German colleague, this one from a different area of Germany, stopped on his way out of the office for the night and asked me, "Did you order the bed wedder?"
What?
"Did you order the bed wedder?"
I mentally reviewed everything that had been delivered today - interoffice mail, computer equipment, fresh fruit - maybe someone had a bad reaction to the peaches??
"The bed wedder. It really looks like it's going to rain."
Monday, June 18, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Red, White and Blue
The bright white of the naval uniforms was almost blinding as I spotted the four sailors outside Wrigley Field today. Like the rest of us, they were waiting to see if any tickets became available for the Memorial Day game against the Marlins. Apparently it was a hot ticket with all the tourists in town for the long weekend.
"You guys looking for tickets?" asked a gentleman who, by his age, was probably no stranger to military service.
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
"Not anymore," he said, handing each a field box seat ticket and shaking their hands. "They're down the first base line. Have a good time."
I just LOVE when stuff like that happens!
Although they weren't free, I scored some pretty good seats for both Firecracker and myself.
I always enjoy the pre-game festivities on Memorial Day with Wayne Messmer adding "God Bless America" to his usual performance of the National Anthem. The Cubs really did it up right this year, as Challenger, a bald eagle, was set loose from a perch high in the center field bleachers. Magestic is the word that came to mind as we watched Challenger sail on the crosswinds before finally coming in to land on the arm of his handler just as Messmer reached the crescendo of the Star Spangled Banner.
One of the main marketing ploys the Cubs feature in the pre-game activities is the throwing out of the ceremonial "first"pitch. Usually, it's the assistant vice-president of some meat-packing company that wants some extra publicity. Pretty tiresome.
But not today.
Lt. Bryan Anderson had a baseball in his hand when he linked arms with his brother to take the field. A few people chuckled when Bryan knelt down to kiss the ground in front of the pitcher's mound. It was a completely different emotion that took over, however, when the triple-amputee Iraqi war veteran used his only remaining limb to throw a fastball to relief pitcher Angel Guzman.
Happy Memorial Day.
"You guys looking for tickets?" asked a gentleman who, by his age, was probably no stranger to military service.
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
"Not anymore," he said, handing each a field box seat ticket and shaking their hands. "They're down the first base line. Have a good time."
I just LOVE when stuff like that happens!
Although they weren't free, I scored some pretty good seats for both Firecracker and myself.
I always enjoy the pre-game festivities on Memorial Day with Wayne Messmer adding "God Bless America" to his usual performance of the National Anthem. The Cubs really did it up right this year, as Challenger, a bald eagle, was set loose from a perch high in the center field bleachers. Magestic is the word that came to mind as we watched Challenger sail on the crosswinds before finally coming in to land on the arm of his handler just as Messmer reached the crescendo of the Star Spangled Banner.
One of the main marketing ploys the Cubs feature in the pre-game activities is the throwing out of the ceremonial "first"pitch. Usually, it's the assistant vice-president of some meat-packing company that wants some extra publicity. Pretty tiresome.
But not today.
Lt. Bryan Anderson had a baseball in his hand when he linked arms with his brother to take the field. A few people chuckled when Bryan knelt down to kiss the ground in front of the pitcher's mound. It was a completely different emotion that took over, however, when the triple-amputee Iraqi war veteran used his only remaining limb to throw a fastball to relief pitcher Angel Guzman.
Happy Memorial Day.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Peaks and valleys
You know it's a weird weekend when it hails during a baseball game in mid-May...even in Chicago. But I guess it wasn't all bad. After all, the Cubs did win two of three from their crosstown rivals.
I planned to go to the game on Saturday since it was such a gorgeous day. The baseball gods were definitely smiling on me as I scored a very good seat from a downstate kid whose friend cancelled on him at the last minute. Of course, then Derrek Lee came off the bench to hammer a grand slam and send Wrigley's faithful into bedlam and secure a Cubs win.
Yay!!!
During the game, I got a text message from Porsche Guy, saying that he just "caught a ball at the Cubs/Sox game and wasn't it a shame I wasn't there to split a beer with." Um, split a beer?
And, no, I didn't text back. But I did say a silent prayer that I wouldn't run into him.
Boo!
After the game, I met up with some friends at a nearby watering hole. They were being chatted up by a group of guys that included one kinda cute guy who, it turns out, is 42 and never been married (my mother's dream for me), used to play minor league baseball for the Phillies (not a bad resume, methinks) and wasn't bad looking at all.
Yay!!
An hour later, Phillies Guy is shit-faced drunk and using the garbage can as a bar stool. I remember his name, but I'm pretty confident he won't remember me at all.
Boo!
Having already bought a ticket to today's game, I wasn't about to let a little overcast sky deter me. I grabbed my glove (and my rain poncho, just in case) and made my way over to the park.
Late in the game, a strange scenary began to unfold (or maybe I was just letting my imagination get the best of me.) First the seagulls started to swarm in the outfield. Yes, I did say seagulls. Then Aramis Ramirez parked a three-run homer to keep the Cubs' hopes alive.
Yay!!!
And then came the hail.
It was all very biblical. And cold.
But a happy ending was not to be for my boys and the Cubs lost. The White Sox avoided a Cubs sweep and capped it off with a grand slam by their catcher.
Boo!
Strange sports note on the weekend series: both grand slams were given up by pitchers who, not only were traded for each other just a year ago, but were both doing very well for their new teams until they faced their old teams.
Hmmnn???
Stopping by a bar on the way home, I saw a guy drop his cell phone on his way to the loo. He didn't notice, so I pointed it out to a bouncer, who returned it to the guy. Cell phone guy offered me $20 in reward because the cell phone was actually a $400 Blackberry. I declined.
Peaks and valleys, folks.
Peaks and valleys.
I planned to go to the game on Saturday since it was such a gorgeous day. The baseball gods were definitely smiling on me as I scored a very good seat from a downstate kid whose friend cancelled on him at the last minute. Of course, then Derrek Lee came off the bench to hammer a grand slam and send Wrigley's faithful into bedlam and secure a Cubs win.
Yay!!!
During the game, I got a text message from Porsche Guy, saying that he just "caught a ball at the Cubs/Sox game and wasn't it a shame I wasn't there to split a beer with." Um, split a beer?
And, no, I didn't text back. But I did say a silent prayer that I wouldn't run into him.
Boo!
After the game, I met up with some friends at a nearby watering hole. They were being chatted up by a group of guys that included one kinda cute guy who, it turns out, is 42 and never been married (my mother's dream for me), used to play minor league baseball for the Phillies (not a bad resume, methinks) and wasn't bad looking at all.
Yay!!
An hour later, Phillies Guy is shit-faced drunk and using the garbage can as a bar stool. I remember his name, but I'm pretty confident he won't remember me at all.
Boo!
Having already bought a ticket to today's game, I wasn't about to let a little overcast sky deter me. I grabbed my glove (and my rain poncho, just in case) and made my way over to the park.
Late in the game, a strange scenary began to unfold (or maybe I was just letting my imagination get the best of me.) First the seagulls started to swarm in the outfield. Yes, I did say seagulls. Then Aramis Ramirez parked a three-run homer to keep the Cubs' hopes alive.
Yay!!!
And then came the hail.
It was all very biblical. And cold.
But a happy ending was not to be for my boys and the Cubs lost. The White Sox avoided a Cubs sweep and capped it off with a grand slam by their catcher.
Boo!
Strange sports note on the weekend series: both grand slams were given up by pitchers who, not only were traded for each other just a year ago, but were both doing very well for their new teams until they faced their old teams.
Hmmnn???
Stopping by a bar on the way home, I saw a guy drop his cell phone on his way to the loo. He didn't notice, so I pointed it out to a bouncer, who returned it to the guy. Cell phone guy offered me $20 in reward because the cell phone was actually a $400 Blackberry. I declined.
Peaks and valleys, folks.
Peaks and valleys.
Monday, May 07, 2007
For Sale: one soul
Oh, the interesting conversations one has following a day of baseball at Wrigley Field...
"So, what's wrong with Zambrano?" asked the vertically impaired stranger with a beard straight out of the '80s.
The Cubs' Venezuelan pitcher hasn't shown himself to be the ace of the staff so far this season and everybody has a theory of why this is so.
(me) "Well, I read an article that said that 'Z' has something like seven brothers at home (in Venezuela) and he's the sole support for his family. And I think he's married and has kids of his own here, too. That's really a lot of pressure to put on a guy when he doesn't know where next year's salary will come from."
Zambrano was negotiating his long-term deal with the Cubs when the Chicago Tribune (owners of the Cubs) were sold to real estate bizillionaire Sam Zell, so there's no deal and no telling when or with whom new negotiations can begin.
(shorty) "Well, he should just do his job. He's a professional and he's getting a ton of money this year. When he steps on the field, nothing else should matter."
(me) "Wait a minute, so what you're saying is that people who make a lot of money don't have to be human? What, they should just remove their hearts and their brains and their emotions and set them on the shelf when they go to work?
"Do you realize that as far as 'Z' knows, every pitch he throws could determine his family's financial future? That's a lot of pressure to put on a guy who's only 25 years old."
(shorty) "They're f-ing immigrants anyways, so who the hell cares?"
Um, buh-bye!
So, boys and girls, the discussion point of the day is: Should your income determine your humanity?
"So, what's wrong with Zambrano?" asked the vertically impaired stranger with a beard straight out of the '80s.
The Cubs' Venezuelan pitcher hasn't shown himself to be the ace of the staff so far this season and everybody has a theory of why this is so.
(me) "Well, I read an article that said that 'Z' has something like seven brothers at home (in Venezuela) and he's the sole support for his family. And I think he's married and has kids of his own here, too. That's really a lot of pressure to put on a guy when he doesn't know where next year's salary will come from."
Zambrano was negotiating his long-term deal with the Cubs when the Chicago Tribune (owners of the Cubs) were sold to real estate bizillionaire Sam Zell, so there's no deal and no telling when or with whom new negotiations can begin.
(shorty) "Well, he should just do his job. He's a professional and he's getting a ton of money this year. When he steps on the field, nothing else should matter."
(me) "Wait a minute, so what you're saying is that people who make a lot of money don't have to be human? What, they should just remove their hearts and their brains and their emotions and set them on the shelf when they go to work?
"Do you realize that as far as 'Z' knows, every pitch he throws could determine his family's financial future? That's a lot of pressure to put on a guy who's only 25 years old."
(shorty) "They're f-ing immigrants anyways, so who the hell cares?"
Um, buh-bye!
So, boys and girls, the discussion point of the day is: Should your income determine your humanity?
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Nut magnet
When my cell phone rang, I was standing in the hair product aisle at Walgreens. My cell doesn't ring all that often, so out of curiosity, I answered it.
Big mistake.
Porsche Guy wanted to know if I wanted to meet him for dinner. Instinct told me to lie and tell him that I already ate. He downshifted into an invitation for a drink. Stalling, I told him I was in the middle of something and could he call me back in an hour or so?
Why didn't I just tell him to drop dead?
When we originally exchanged business cards at Wrigley Field, it occurred to both of us (to my initial horror) that we live in adjacent buildings! Okay, maybe my misgivings at his proximity should've prompted me to end things then and there. This nut job lives next door to me?!?! Why I let this flirtation continue, I'll never know.
In the time between his first and second calls, I formulated the wording for a polite, but definite "not interested" talk.
And then I chickened out.
The cell phone rang and I just stared at it from the sofa without moving. Maybe he'll get the hint.
Fast forward to this morning at 8:30. I'm finishing up my session with my physical terrorist, oops, therapist. My cell brriiings to tell me I have a text message.
"Does anyone want to play hooky? It's a nice day."
The nice guys fall off the face of the earth after one date. The crazies call me all the time!
Big mistake.
Porsche Guy wanted to know if I wanted to meet him for dinner. Instinct told me to lie and tell him that I already ate. He downshifted into an invitation for a drink. Stalling, I told him I was in the middle of something and could he call me back in an hour or so?
Why didn't I just tell him to drop dead?
When we originally exchanged business cards at Wrigley Field, it occurred to both of us (to my initial horror) that we live in adjacent buildings! Okay, maybe my misgivings at his proximity should've prompted me to end things then and there. This nut job lives next door to me?!?! Why I let this flirtation continue, I'll never know.
In the time between his first and second calls, I formulated the wording for a polite, but definite "not interested" talk.
And then I chickened out.
The cell phone rang and I just stared at it from the sofa without moving. Maybe he'll get the hint.
Fast forward to this morning at 8:30. I'm finishing up my session with my physical terrorist, oops, therapist. My cell brriiings to tell me I have a text message.
"Does anyone want to play hooky? It's a nice day."
The nice guys fall off the face of the earth after one date. The crazies call me all the time!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
I think Boston Cremes are out too
It always seemed weird to me when someone young (read: under 60) said they have a "bad back" or "bad knees" or some other "bad" body part. I kept picturing some black-and-white movie where the affliction is attributed to an old war wound.
Apparently, I now fall into the category of those with a bad back.
I must've slept through the anatomy part of my health class, because I was pretty sure I had messed up my right leg when it started to feel funky during my weekly volleyball game. Not a pulled muscle exactly, but more of a weird tightness and tingling.
After a week or resting my leg on the back of my sofa while watching TV (that's the best I can do for rehab since I've never so much as sprained anything before), it wasn't any better so I decided to ring my doctor.
My own personal diagnosis was that it was a circulatory issue since "the leg" (yes, I was referring to my body part as if it were someone else's) felt better while standing and worse after sitting for a while. Also, I have low blood pressure and occasionally suffer migraines with my poor circulation.
Uh, yeah, but no. It's a back thing. There's a very good reason why there are no letters after my name. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about in medical circles.
My doctor prescribed some physical therapy (and no volleyball or high heels, for that matter - - so I didn't even ask about volleyball in high heels), so that was my next stop.
Here's the layman's version of what's going on: a disc seems to have slipped from between my vertebre in my lower back, causing a disruption of the nerve signal to my right leg. The Food Network explanation would be: the jelly is coming out of the doughnut and we need to squish it back in.
eeewww!
Apparently, I now fall into the category of those with a bad back.
I must've slept through the anatomy part of my health class, because I was pretty sure I had messed up my right leg when it started to feel funky during my weekly volleyball game. Not a pulled muscle exactly, but more of a weird tightness and tingling.
After a week or resting my leg on the back of my sofa while watching TV (that's the best I can do for rehab since I've never so much as sprained anything before), it wasn't any better so I decided to ring my doctor.
My own personal diagnosis was that it was a circulatory issue since "the leg" (yes, I was referring to my body part as if it were someone else's) felt better while standing and worse after sitting for a while. Also, I have low blood pressure and occasionally suffer migraines with my poor circulation.
Uh, yeah, but no. It's a back thing. There's a very good reason why there are no letters after my name. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about in medical circles.
My doctor prescribed some physical therapy (and no volleyball or high heels, for that matter - - so I didn't even ask about volleyball in high heels), so that was my next stop.
Here's the layman's version of what's going on: a disc seems to have slipped from between my vertebre in my lower back, causing a disruption of the nerve signal to my right leg. The Food Network explanation would be: the jelly is coming out of the doughnut and we need to squish it back in.
eeewww!
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Pass the hair gel
Just when I was ready to throw open the doors of my pity party and lament my lack of male companionship, Mother Nature reminds me to be careful what I wish for.
"Why did you cross your legs that way when I'm over here?"
And the psychoanalysis had begun.
"You know, when you shook my hand, you put your hand on top and pressed down to show that you're in control."
When he picked me up in his Porsche 911 earlier that Sunday evening, we shook hands in the car. He offered his hand to me with the palm facing up in a "slip me some skin" move, so the handshake was pretty awkward with very little room for maneuvering.
Since I had met Porsche Guy at a Cubs game, I figured I was safe in at least one topic of conversation. But no, he can't stand to watch baseball on TV. He only goes to the game to enjoy the "drama" of it in person. He's really not much of a sports fan even though he played pro beach volleyball for a few years in Mexico.
No, he's not really that tall.
He has a daughter in central Illinois who's 12 years old. He never married the mother, claiming that at 25 years old, he would've been a horrible dad. Later in the evening, he showed me his drivers license. He was born in 1974.
You do the math.
His mother recently told him that if he had spent as much time working on a relationship as he had on his career, he'd be happier. Apparently, he's taken that to heart because he clearly (and several times) stated that he wants to "stop wasting time."
Porsche Guy feels that you should be able to find out pretty quickly if you like someone or not and quite frankly, he's really good on paper (his words, not mine...obviously). He attended Harvard, NYU and has lived in New York, Miami, Chicago and Los Angeles.
So why didn't I fawn over him, like most other women? (I didn't make this up, really! He actually did ask me that.)
When I picked my jaw up off the floor, I explained that I don't fawn over anyone. Did I mention what he looks like? If not, picture a medium-built guy with dark, curly gelled hair, at least two-days' growth of beard but not enough to cover what in my teenage years would've been called "pizza face."
Yes, folks, why wasn't I fawning over such a fine specimen?
My head was throbbing with the refrain of "why am I here?"
Morbid curiosity is my best guess.
The conversation never got any better. Actually, it got worse when I mentioned that although the club we were drinking in was nice, it had gotten difficult to converse since the music was turned up.
"How many drinks does it take for you to relax?"
You know the scene in countless movies where a girl throws a drink in some guy's face and storms out?
SOOOOOOOOOOO CLOSE!
He agreed to take me home, but not before suggesting we go to his place (across the street from my place, God help me!) and makeout for a while.
Surprisingly, I didn't laugh in his face, but neither did I have difficulty in saying that since our conversation didn't exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling, I really didn't think I'd be interested in that.
Who are these psychos and why do I keep meeting them?!
"Why did you cross your legs that way when I'm over here?"
And the psychoanalysis had begun.
"You know, when you shook my hand, you put your hand on top and pressed down to show that you're in control."
When he picked me up in his Porsche 911 earlier that Sunday evening, we shook hands in the car. He offered his hand to me with the palm facing up in a "slip me some skin" move, so the handshake was pretty awkward with very little room for maneuvering.
Since I had met Porsche Guy at a Cubs game, I figured I was safe in at least one topic of conversation. But no, he can't stand to watch baseball on TV. He only goes to the game to enjoy the "drama" of it in person. He's really not much of a sports fan even though he played pro beach volleyball for a few years in Mexico.
No, he's not really that tall.
He has a daughter in central Illinois who's 12 years old. He never married the mother, claiming that at 25 years old, he would've been a horrible dad. Later in the evening, he showed me his drivers license. He was born in 1974.
You do the math.
His mother recently told him that if he had spent as much time working on a relationship as he had on his career, he'd be happier. Apparently, he's taken that to heart because he clearly (and several times) stated that he wants to "stop wasting time."
Porsche Guy feels that you should be able to find out pretty quickly if you like someone or not and quite frankly, he's really good on paper (his words, not mine...obviously). He attended Harvard, NYU and has lived in New York, Miami, Chicago and Los Angeles.
So why didn't I fawn over him, like most other women? (I didn't make this up, really! He actually did ask me that.)
When I picked my jaw up off the floor, I explained that I don't fawn over anyone. Did I mention what he looks like? If not, picture a medium-built guy with dark, curly gelled hair, at least two-days' growth of beard but not enough to cover what in my teenage years would've been called "pizza face."
Yes, folks, why wasn't I fawning over such a fine specimen?
My head was throbbing with the refrain of "why am I here?"
Morbid curiosity is my best guess.
The conversation never got any better. Actually, it got worse when I mentioned that although the club we were drinking in was nice, it had gotten difficult to converse since the music was turned up.
"How many drinks does it take for you to relax?"
You know the scene in countless movies where a girl throws a drink in some guy's face and storms out?
SOOOOOOOOOOO CLOSE!
He agreed to take me home, but not before suggesting we go to his place (across the street from my place, God help me!) and makeout for a while.
Surprisingly, I didn't laugh in his face, but neither did I have difficulty in saying that since our conversation didn't exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling, I really didn't think I'd be interested in that.
Who are these psychos and why do I keep meeting them?!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Shame on me!
I know! I've been a bad blogger. For those of you that still check in here, let me apologize for not keeping you abreast of my life. Actually, except for work, there hasn't been much of a life to write about, so you haven't missed anything.
Actually, I've found myself getting bored with my life lately. How weird is that? Especially since it's baseball season, one of my favorite times to be in Chicago. That means summer is right around the corner. FINALLY!
The scary part is, when I get bored, it ends up costing me money. Many women will go shopping to add some excitement to their lives. Me? I spend money, too, but in much larger quantities.
I've decided to remodel my bathroom (and yes, you heard right, singular! my only bathroom.) This should shake things up a bit, right?
I've contacted Polish Guy, the absolute BEST contractor ever!, and he's agreed to remodel my bathroom at the same time as he's doing the loo of my neighbors (they met him through me...or actually, through my wall when he accidently drilled into their apartment while remodeling my master bedroom.)
Think I'll get a referral discount? It would really help the wallet since my plans include pulling down EVERYTHING! I'm even planning to have PG install a pocket door (to give the world's smallest bathroom a bit more space).
I spent the other night sketching the plans for my very chic, use-every-inch-of-space washroom. It'll be entirely white, and I know that sounds boring, but I'm toying with the idea of a whirlpool tub, a dinner-plate sized shower head and maybe a glass wall enclosure.
So many plans! So many sketches! So many trips to plumbing stores!
But all of that will have to wait a little while because this weekend, the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals will be at Wrigley Field to get a whupping from my Cubs!
Game on!
Actually, I've found myself getting bored with my life lately. How weird is that? Especially since it's baseball season, one of my favorite times to be in Chicago. That means summer is right around the corner. FINALLY!
The scary part is, when I get bored, it ends up costing me money. Many women will go shopping to add some excitement to their lives. Me? I spend money, too, but in much larger quantities.
I've decided to remodel my bathroom (and yes, you heard right, singular! my only bathroom.) This should shake things up a bit, right?
I've contacted Polish Guy, the absolute BEST contractor ever!, and he's agreed to remodel my bathroom at the same time as he's doing the loo of my neighbors (they met him through me...or actually, through my wall when he accidently drilled into their apartment while remodeling my master bedroom.)
Think I'll get a referral discount? It would really help the wallet since my plans include pulling down EVERYTHING! I'm even planning to have PG install a pocket door (to give the world's smallest bathroom a bit more space).
I spent the other night sketching the plans for my very chic, use-every-inch-of-space washroom. It'll be entirely white, and I know that sounds boring, but I'm toying with the idea of a whirlpool tub, a dinner-plate sized shower head and maybe a glass wall enclosure.
So many plans! So many sketches! So many trips to plumbing stores!
But all of that will have to wait a little while because this weekend, the rat-bastard St. Louis Cardinals will be at Wrigley Field to get a whupping from my Cubs!
Game on!
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Green goes with blue, right?
I'm one of those people that doesn't usually spend a lot of money on herself. Okay, I do take myself on vacation every year for my birthday, but I plan that very carefully as to not spend more than necessary on flights and hotels (so I can shop a lot and eat really well while I'm there, of course!)
Anyway, I just found out that for the first time in, oh, let's say FOREVER!, I'm going to be receiving a tax refund! And not just from the feds, but from good ole Illinois, too!
I've been paying every year for so long. Now I'm in a quandary. What do I do with the money?
I'm like a kid in a candy store. There are too many choices! Like a room full of mirrors, I don't know where to look!
Blow it on clothes? That's a possibility, but not likely because I've trained myself to be a good shopper and that's a hard habit to break. And the first time I scuff up a pair of Manolo Blahniks, I'll just throw myself headlong into traffic.
Cubs tickets? Well, I think we all know that a good chunk of this money will go to Cubs tickets anyway, so that's not much of an extravagance.
Travel? Well, I've been extremely fortunate that I've had the means (and the vacation allotment) to see more of the world than most people.
Oh, did I mention that my other stroke of good luck came a few months ago when I won two round-trip American Airlines tickets to anywhere in the continental US, Mexico or Canada. Yay me, right? Well, I originally planned to use them for Spring Training, but no go, no seats available. It seems these seats are drawn from the same pool as AA frequent flier seats, so VERY limited availability.
So, the vouchers have been sitting on my kitchen counter, just whispering to me periodically, "c'mon! let's blow this joint and go somewhere fun!" But where? And with whom?
So, I've got two airline tickets and some cash to spend. Hmmn...
Hang on, I'll be right back.
The Cubs play the Los Angeles Dodgers in May, according to the schedule that fell out of the March Vineline. In fact, they finish the series and come home just in time for Memorial Day, so I could fly in Friday night, see Saturday's and Sunday's games and fly home on the holiday...and maybe go to the game at Wrigley that day.
This could be considered stalking, couldn't it?
Well, it's just an idea. (And I'd better come up with another idea before I get carried away and start researching Dodgers tickets and hotel locations.)
What would you do if you suddenly came into a bit of cash that you didn't expect? Not lottery winnings money, but let's say approximately an extra month's salary?
Anyway, I just found out that for the first time in, oh, let's say FOREVER!, I'm going to be receiving a tax refund! And not just from the feds, but from good ole Illinois, too!
I've been paying every year for so long. Now I'm in a quandary. What do I do with the money?
I'm like a kid in a candy store. There are too many choices! Like a room full of mirrors, I don't know where to look!
Blow it on clothes? That's a possibility, but not likely because I've trained myself to be a good shopper and that's a hard habit to break. And the first time I scuff up a pair of Manolo Blahniks, I'll just throw myself headlong into traffic.
Cubs tickets? Well, I think we all know that a good chunk of this money will go to Cubs tickets anyway, so that's not much of an extravagance.
Travel? Well, I've been extremely fortunate that I've had the means (and the vacation allotment) to see more of the world than most people.
Oh, did I mention that my other stroke of good luck came a few months ago when I won two round-trip American Airlines tickets to anywhere in the continental US, Mexico or Canada. Yay me, right? Well, I originally planned to use them for Spring Training, but no go, no seats available. It seems these seats are drawn from the same pool as AA frequent flier seats, so VERY limited availability.
So, the vouchers have been sitting on my kitchen counter, just whispering to me periodically, "c'mon! let's blow this joint and go somewhere fun!" But where? And with whom?
So, I've got two airline tickets and some cash to spend. Hmmn...
Hang on, I'll be right back.
The Cubs play the Los Angeles Dodgers in May, according to the schedule that fell out of the March Vineline. In fact, they finish the series and come home just in time for Memorial Day, so I could fly in Friday night, see Saturday's and Sunday's games and fly home on the holiday...and maybe go to the game at Wrigley that day.
This could be considered stalking, couldn't it?
Well, it's just an idea. (And I'd better come up with another idea before I get carried away and start researching Dodgers tickets and hotel locations.)
What would you do if you suddenly came into a bit of cash that you didn't expect? Not lottery winnings money, but let's say approximately an extra month's salary?
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
26 Days!
...till my boys are back in town! That's right, the Cubs' home opener is just 26 days away! Of course, Firecracker and I are getting a jump on the season (actually, two jumps, if you count spring training) because we're road-tripping up to Milwaukee to see our boys trounce the Brewers the weekend before the home opener.
Anyway, enjoy some photos of our trip to Arizona. (Please excuse the blurriness of the Kerry Wood photo. 1) using the telephoto zoom diminishes the image stabilization feature, and 2) well, um, did you see the picture?! What a hottie!!)
Oh, before I forget! Does anyone have a subscription to Vineline, the Cubs newsletter? If so, look for us in the April issue in the picture that accompanies the article about the Cubs' plethora of media exposure. We're celebrities!!!
Anyway, enjoy some photos of our trip to Arizona. (Please excuse the blurriness of the Kerry Wood photo. 1) using the telephoto zoom diminishes the image stabilization feature, and 2) well, um, did you see the picture?! What a hottie!!)
Oh, before I forget! Does anyone have a subscription to Vineline, the Cubs newsletter? If so, look for us in the April issue in the picture that accompanies the article about the Cubs' plethora of media exposure. We're celebrities!!!
Take a seat (cushion)
I should've known it when I pulled the souvenir Super Bowl seat cushion out of its hiding place near my desk. I haven't used it since the week I returned and only brought it from home to torture the sports freaks in my office.
The dead have arisen.
At 7:45 last night, while I was about to doze off in front of my tv, my cell phone chirped to announce a text message. It's a new cell phone, so I thought maybe the weird sound was the tv.
It wasn't.
"Your silence is deafening," wrote Super Bowl guy.
Just a reminder, boys and girls: last I heard from him, he was skiiing in Aspen on Valentine's Day with whomever.
I replied, "Me?! Where u been?" (since I'm all over this short-code texting shit.)
"Meet me at PJ Clark's at 8:45."
My thoughts at that moment: that little a-hole is not only in town, but already at a bar and just expects me to drop everything and haul my fanny to him! For all I know, he could've been in town for a few days already and just now ran out of other entertainment!
Prior to the Super Bowl, the two of us could've starred in a commercial for communication in the 21st century: text messages, email, cell phone calls.
Since then?
Except for one text message, nada.
My answer? "Sorry, no time. Washing my hair."
A girl's gotta have her priorities, ya know!
The dead have arisen.
At 7:45 last night, while I was about to doze off in front of my tv, my cell phone chirped to announce a text message. It's a new cell phone, so I thought maybe the weird sound was the tv.
It wasn't.
"Your silence is deafening," wrote Super Bowl guy.
Just a reminder, boys and girls: last I heard from him, he was skiiing in Aspen on Valentine's Day with whomever.
I replied, "Me?! Where u been?" (since I'm all over this short-code texting shit.)
"Meet me at PJ Clark's at 8:45."
My thoughts at that moment: that little a-hole is not only in town, but already at a bar and just expects me to drop everything and haul my fanny to him! For all I know, he could've been in town for a few days already and just now ran out of other entertainment!
Prior to the Super Bowl, the two of us could've starred in a commercial for communication in the 21st century: text messages, email, cell phone calls.
Since then?
Except for one text message, nada.
My answer? "Sorry, no time. Washing my hair."
A girl's gotta have her priorities, ya know!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
100 bits of stuff about me
All you really need to know...and then some
1. I don't have a middle name.
1. I don't have a middle name.
- 2. When I was young, I wanted to be an actress...or a singer.
- 3. I can't really sing.
- 4. I rarely balance my checkbook.
- 5. I'm probably not as smart as I think I am (see #4).
- 6. If I won the lottery, I'd hire someone to make all of my clothes - -even my shoes!
- 7. I've never been pregnant and will probably never be.
- 8. And that's okay.
- 9. I can't slow dance.
- 10. Summer is my absolute favorite time of year.
- 11. I love love LOVE being near water.
- 12. I can't really swim.
- 13. My "first time" was with a musician....figures!
14. When it comes to gift-giving, I rock!
15. I own entirely too many clothes.
16. I know at least a few words in French, Spanish, German, Chinese, Italian and Croatian.
17. But I'm not in fluent in any of those languages.
18. I'm a great flirt, but get terribly shy when a cute guy actually pays attention to me.
19. I have eight siblings, but I can't say I'm especially close to any of them.
20. The first song I ever learned all the words to was "Mandy" by Barry Manilow.
21. I still like some Barry Manilow songs. Sue me.
22. I once stoled money out of my mom's purse. Okay, the grand larceny totaled about $1.50, but when you're an 8-year-old aching for penny candy, that's the motherlode!
23. I've always wanted to learn to play either the guitar or the piano.
24. Being asked to hold an infant strikes terror into me.
25. I love tomato sauce, ketchup and salsa but hate tomatoes. It's the consistency. They're still in the embryonic stage.
26. I don't really have a favorite color.
27. I prefer the toilet paper in my bathroom to come over the top of the roll.
28. If it's raining, I'm sleeping. Seriously! If it rained for 12 hours straight, I'd be in a coma!
29. Countries I've been to include: Belgium, Amsterdam, China, Mexico, Jamaica, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Germany, Italy, England, Uruguay, New Zealand, Spain and Croatia - - not in that order.
30. M*A*S*H used to be my favorite show. In fact, I can recite from memory Radar O'Reilly's speech announcing the death of Lt. Col. Henry Blake.
31. Yes, I am a veritable font of useless information.
32. When I was, oh, about 7 or 8 years old, I trimmed my eyelashes...with scissors.
33. I have a tattoo. What it is and where it is are strictly need-to-know information.
34. I'm a Scorpio. (Big f'ing surprise there, huh?)
35. I swear way too much!
36. I've moved eight times in my life...so far.
37. When I was a kid, my family had a dog named Corky (same as the nickname of drugstore magnate Charles R. Walgreen - - no coincidence.)
38. I've never broken a bone, sprained anything or had stitches of any kind. Figure when I turn 50, I'll get hit by a bus!
39. Favorite dinner: NY strip steak, cooked medium, sauteed mushrooms on the side, with twice-baked potato and creamed spinach plus a big, fat cabernet. Yes, the arteries are clogging as I write this.
40. I like dogs. It's not that I don't like cats, but I don't trust them. They're sneaky.
41. I was mistaken for a prostitute once. Okay, twice.
42. I always wished my eyes were blue or green. Brown seems boring.
43. I'm a big fan of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies.
44. While in high school, I worked as a waitress...for exactly one week.
- 45. For a woman my size, I have a frighteningly high tolerance for alcohol.
46. I know more about baseball than most men I know.
47. I used to have a MAJOR crush on Andy Gibb...and then he had to go and pull a Romeo and Juliet thing over Victoria Principal. Such a shame!
48. The older I get, the less I enjoy change. (Maybe that's not just me?)
49. I'd love to know how to do the following automotive things: change the oil, do a tune-up, do a brake job. Tried to take a class in basic automotives, but it got cancelled.
50. I'm a good cook, but a better baker.
51. I attended the Atlanta Olympics (and was in the park not long before the explosion.)
52. I drive a red convertible (usually too fast!)
53. When I was a child, my hair was so long I usually sat on it when I sat at my school desk.
54."Pulling an MJ" defined as having a date so wonderful that you're finishing each other's sentences by the evening's end...and then he never calls you again.
55. I don't date smokers.
56. I've been to Australia five times and New York twice. And I like Australia better...even with the 19-hour flight.
57. Most people have childhood illnesses when they are children. Not me! I contracted chicken pox when I was 21.
58. I own not one, but two baseball gloves (one is autographed by Ron Santo, so of course, I can't use it.)
59. Unlike most women, I really don't like shopping...even if it's for ME!
60. I used to work as a bartender and I used to work as a sportswriter--total guy-meeting occupations- -yet I really don't date much. What's with THAT?!?!
61. One of my favorite places on the island of Maui is a hidden-away nude beach.
62. My default setting (as far as drinks goes) is Jack Daniels and Coke.
63. When I was a kid, I played hide-and-seek in the basement with one of my brothers (a year older than me). He hid in the dryer and I turned it on. Okay, he only went around once! And I bandaged him up!
64. I once confused a can of kitchen cleanser for parmasean cheese and sprinkled it on my family's dinner. (Gimme a break, I was about 7 years old at the time!)
65. Body part I dislike the most: feet! That goes for mine or anyone else's. Ick!
66. It used to happen more often, but at least once a month, someone thinks they know me from somewhere. I'm going to get a shirt that says "I am no one you know."
67. I own at least two nice chess sets, but do not know how to play chess...yet.
68. I absolutely hate to be late.
69. I have a crush on CNN's Anderson Cooper.
70. I'm better than anyone when it comes to holding a grudge. (No, I'm not proud of that.)
71. My left earlobe is double-pierced, just the left one. (Took the idea from one of my sisters.)
72. My favorite Chicago places in the summer: Buckingham Fountain and Wrigley Field (not necessarily in that order). In the winter? Australia and Mexico. (Okay, they're not in Chicago, but have you BEEN to Chicago in the winter?)
73. I get migraines (discovered that tonic water with quinine helps). My migraines begin in an interesting fashion with partial blindness. It's pretty strange.
74. I was married for five years to.the.day. Yep, we filed on our anniversary. Pretty bent, huh?
75. I have expensive taste. Don't know where that came from. It's not like we were rich when I was growing up. Or now, for that matter.
76. Although I've tried to hide it, apparently people have found out: I love chocolate, particularly the wonderful European brands Milka and Lindt.
77. I have several favorite sayings: "If you're not tired on Monday, you didn't have a good weekend." (When traveling) "Don't do anything you can't make bail for!" And, of course, "Ice cream makes everything better."
78. Although I own a nice set of golf clubs and have taken a few lessons, I have NEVER set foot on a golf course...yet.
79. I can play pool right-handed and also left-handed.
80. The smell of marijuana makes me wretch.
81. As scary as this sounds, I'm probably the most open-minded person in my family.
82. Dentists scare the living hell outta me!
83. As far as art goes, I'm a fan of the French Impressionists...seriously! Modern art doesn't really do it for me. I just don't get it.
84. I'm a total attention-whore (and I blame my huge family for that!)
85. I think the best root beer makers are Dad's, Barrelhead and A&W, in case you wanted to know.
86. I prefer nuts in my peanut butter, but not in my chocolate chip cookies. Weird, huh?
87. My ears were just not designed for ear "buds."
88. As much as I love snorkeling, I don't think I can learn to scuba. What can I say, I like to breathe wherever I am. Can you say "scare.D.cat"??
89. If I allow my hair to dry naturally, it does this really strange banana curl thing underneath and arrow-straight on top. It's really a great look, trust me!
90. I'm a cynic. (Okay, that's probably downplaying it, but there it is.)
91. When I get nervous or stressed, my shoulders go up into "I dunno?" posture. And they stay there.
92. If there was only room for two words to describe me on my tombstone, I think they'd be "loyal" and "generous." At least, I hope that's what they would be.
93. To most people that know me, I'm really an open book. And for that, I'd like to lay out a blanket apology.
94. I'm one of those people that never wins anything...okay I used to be. Last summer, I won a replica Brooklyn Dodgers Jackie Robinson jersey (worth $300) and this past December, I won 2 roundtrip airline tickets! Yay me!
95. About once a year, I get laryngitis. It's actually pretty funny. It's still me...just with a mute button.
96. One of my favorite things in my house is my 600-thread-count sheet set. Seriously! Now, what to do with those sheets, well that's a bit too much about me.
97. Weather-wise, I'll take snow over rain any day. Snow falls silently and covers everything with a fluffy white blanket (at least until the street salt dirties it).
98. Couples always say that they can't live without each other. I'd prefer to meet someone where I can honestly say that I don't remember what my life was like before I met them. I want THAT kind of impact! Is that asking too much?
99. I never went to summer camp. Did I miss anything?
100. I'm glad I'm a blonde. Don't think I have the personality for anything else.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
How I Super Bowled...
I was going to start with "so I met this guy", but I knew all the romantics out there would jump to the "and they lived happily ever after" part, so I didn't. This story doesn't end that way...at least I'm pretty sure it doesn't.
But I DID meet a guy (Super Bowl Guy or SB). He was in town on business and was definitely my type: early 40s, tall, thin, clean shaven with wonderful manners: helps me on with my coat, holds doors open, pays for EVERYTHING! The whole package. Quite the change from the men I've met in the last few years.
Yes, I did say he was in town on business. That's right, he's GU (geographically undesirable). We first met while I was having drinks with a colleague. He was doing the same. We hit it off right away (okay, maybe it was the three cosmopolitans I had). One of his colleagues said that he (SB) was divorced and he said something back, but I didn't hear it.
Our first meeting went late into the night and included several more cocktails. He called me the next day (on his way to the airport) to ask how I was doing. Geez! Thoughtful! He apologized for not paying for my taxi home. Generous, too!
We emailed and texted a few times over the next few days and then he called me at work and asked me if I'd like to go to the Super Bowl. (This was before the playoffs started and we knew the Bears would be in it.) Naturally, I was floored and blurted out, "yeah, sure." I mean, HELLO, have we MET BEFORE?!?!? The sports fan that I am?!?
In the same conversation as the invite to the Super Bowl, I pointed out that this was one helluva first date. SB got off the phone pretty quickly after that, but called me back just a few minutes later, asking me what I was doing for dinner the following Monday. Turns out, he had just set up a client meeting in Chicago, so we could have dinner and get to know each other better.
Did I mention the thoughtful thing?
Over our dinner, I found out a few things that made me realize that "happily ever after" wasn't a likely outcome: he isn't quite divorced yet, but in a situation that unfortunately reminds him of a disturbing part of his childhood; he has three children whom he would like to keep from reliving his own childhood; I'd only known him for a few days and here I was, planning a weekend trip with him; and, he's a METS FAN!
It took a lot of talking to him and even more deep thinking on my part, but I decided to just go to the Super Bowl and have fun. I wouldn't get emotionally involved because, quite simply, this situation had trouble written all over it.
And, you know what??? I surprised even me when I was able to do it- not get emotionally involved, that is.
Now, here it is, a few weeks past the Super Bowl and SB said he won't be in Chicago again till late March. Have I gotten phone calls, text messages and emails? Nope. Did I get flowers for Valentine's Day? Nope.
Am I broken up about it?
Nope.
Like I always say, "NEXT."
But I DID meet a guy (Super Bowl Guy or SB). He was in town on business and was definitely my type: early 40s, tall, thin, clean shaven with wonderful manners: helps me on with my coat, holds doors open, pays for EVERYTHING! The whole package. Quite the change from the men I've met in the last few years.
Yes, I did say he was in town on business. That's right, he's GU (geographically undesirable). We first met while I was having drinks with a colleague. He was doing the same. We hit it off right away (okay, maybe it was the three cosmopolitans I had). One of his colleagues said that he (SB) was divorced and he said something back, but I didn't hear it.
Our first meeting went late into the night and included several more cocktails. He called me the next day (on his way to the airport) to ask how I was doing. Geez! Thoughtful! He apologized for not paying for my taxi home. Generous, too!
We emailed and texted a few times over the next few days and then he called me at work and asked me if I'd like to go to the Super Bowl. (This was before the playoffs started and we knew the Bears would be in it.) Naturally, I was floored and blurted out, "yeah, sure." I mean, HELLO, have we MET BEFORE?!?!? The sports fan that I am?!?
In the same conversation as the invite to the Super Bowl, I pointed out that this was one helluva first date. SB got off the phone pretty quickly after that, but called me back just a few minutes later, asking me what I was doing for dinner the following Monday. Turns out, he had just set up a client meeting in Chicago, so we could have dinner and get to know each other better.
Did I mention the thoughtful thing?
Over our dinner, I found out a few things that made me realize that "happily ever after" wasn't a likely outcome: he isn't quite divorced yet, but in a situation that unfortunately reminds him of a disturbing part of his childhood; he has three children whom he would like to keep from reliving his own childhood; I'd only known him for a few days and here I was, planning a weekend trip with him; and, he's a METS FAN!
It took a lot of talking to him and even more deep thinking on my part, but I decided to just go to the Super Bowl and have fun. I wouldn't get emotionally involved because, quite simply, this situation had trouble written all over it.
And, you know what??? I surprised even me when I was able to do it- not get emotionally involved, that is.
Now, here it is, a few weeks past the Super Bowl and SB said he won't be in Chicago again till late March. Have I gotten phone calls, text messages and emails? Nope. Did I get flowers for Valentine's Day? Nope.
Am I broken up about it?
Nope.
Like I always say, "NEXT."
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Me...at the Super Bowl?!?!
Yep, I was in not-so-sunny Florida cheering on my Bears in the biggest sporting event in the U.S.
Stay tuned to find out how I managed to score such a great trip (at least, it was pretty great for a sports fan like me).
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Last photos of Oz...I promise!
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
And finally...the photos
I know you thought I'd return from my trip to Australia and completely forget to show you where I've been. Okay, I've been kinda busy, but I haven't forgotten you.
First, the animals....
First, the animals....
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
G'day Australia
SYDNEY-- I awoke today with a heaviness in my chest, but I wasn't surprised. It's come to be a familiar feeling now. It happens every year about this time.
It's called leaving.
Last night I stopped by for a wonderful dinner and drinks in the 36th floor restaurant called Altitude. As I looked out on the Sydney Harbor Bridge, the melancholy crept in. I didn't bother to push it off. That has never worked for me. I know that in time, probably by the weekend, the weight will lift on its own.
I'll go now and say goodbye to the Opera House and the Bridge and thank them for making me smile. I'll look down on the street and remember to Look Right or Left so as not to become a permanent part of the Sydney pavement. I'll get a flat white with my breakfast and savor the smoothness that Starbucks did not invent.
I've enjoyed a fortunate business life that has allowed me to come to Australia an amazing FIVE times. With the changes in my corporate atmosphere, I can't really say when I'll be back.
But I will.
It's called leaving.
Last night I stopped by for a wonderful dinner and drinks in the 36th floor restaurant called Altitude. As I looked out on the Sydney Harbor Bridge, the melancholy crept in. I didn't bother to push it off. That has never worked for me. I know that in time, probably by the weekend, the weight will lift on its own.
I'll go now and say goodbye to the Opera House and the Bridge and thank them for making me smile. I'll look down on the street and remember to Look Right or Left so as not to become a permanent part of the Sydney pavement. I'll get a flat white with my breakfast and savor the smoothness that Starbucks did not invent.
I've enjoyed a fortunate business life that has allowed me to come to Australia an amazing FIVE times. With the changes in my corporate atmosphere, I can't really say when I'll be back.
But I will.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Mea culpa
SYDNEY -- I was just re-reading one of my posts and decided that my post about the speed with which I met a man in Establishment could have been taken wrong. It could have been construed as bragging.
Hopefully, everyone that knows me (and some of you who don't) will realize that I was amazed, no, try SHOCKED at meeting David so quickly. Or any guy, for that matter! That's not my kind of luck.
Oh, and by the way, I was supposed to meet David today, but I didn't answer my cell phone. The first time was by accident (really didn't hear it on the bus to Bondi Beach). The second time was on purpose.
Who asks out a woman he's only known a few seconds? !?! Weirdos, that's who. If he was a cute weirdo, I might have given him a chance. Oh well!!
Hopefully, everyone that knows me (and some of you who don't) will realize that I was amazed, no, try SHOCKED at meeting David so quickly. Or any guy, for that matter! That's not my kind of luck.
Oh, and by the way, I was supposed to meet David today, but I didn't answer my cell phone. The first time was by accident (really didn't hear it on the bus to Bondi Beach). The second time was on purpose.
Who asks out a woman he's only known a few seconds? !?! Weirdos, that's who. If he was a cute weirdo, I might have given him a chance. Oh well!!
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