Grown Up Lady Me

I see you

2012-03-07T09:00:00.002-05:00

Henry doesn't believe in candids.

Mute Button

2012-03-01T09:30:00.000-05:00

So I have this habit. It's awkward, and it almost cost me a very important relationship. I have a mute button.

I should explain. Despite my ability to blather on via blog, I was not naturally a chatty person growing up. I was so afraid to talk to new kids the first day of kindergarten, I clung to my mother and cried. Not that atypical, but I carried on the tradition for about five more years of first days (not to mention freshman year of college). And now, despite my years of training in socialization - namely 2+ years of being in a sorority, which meant making small talk with strangers at least once a semester - I have a mute button.

You know how some lizards can lose their tail to escape predators? They just *poof* drop their tails and scoot away. Well, that's what happens to my voice when I'm in social territory I cannot navigate. It's like I just spit my tongue on the floor and exit, stage right. And the circumstances for such an audio trick don't even have to be dire. It's usually brought on by a simple question.

Almost five years ago, on the day I met Mr. G, we were introduced by a co-worker and after I said "Hey" he said "Hey, how's it going?" He didn't linger on the question, or on me, and turned to type something. Then, in about a five second span, I had an argument with myself about whether or not that was a rhetorical question. I decided it wasn't, but too much time had passed. I was nodding as I worked it out, so I just quietly said "good" and walked away to straighten something. Luckily we started hanging out anyway.

I bring up this particular peculiarity because I've noticed it cropping up again. Usually when I'm walking in a long and narrow hallway at work that requires a lot of nodding, direct eye contact and quick hellos. For some reason there are frequently only two people in this hallway, walking in opposite directions, so the need for an interaction is clear from the start, but the timing of it is important. Kind of like a six-shooter showdown. I always act interested in something to my right until I have no choice but to say hi, and the way I dart my eyes around must be really suspicious. Sometimes I think I'm going to say hello but my mouth just opens and nothing comes out.

I guess I wasn't made for small talk. Does this happen to anyone else?

If Henry had a portrait session

2012-02-29T10:01:00.003-05:00

The thing about Hensday is that I'm no photographer. If ever Henry were to get the real child treatment, he'd probably have a few favorite set ups.

First, there's the dreamy looking off/captured in a mirror pose. If I were a pro, you wouldn't see my arm in this impromptu shot, taken while I was reorganizing my earrings.

Then, of course there's the basket. For some, this is a wash tub, others, it's an old orange crate filled with soft blankets. For our fur baby, none can top the wicker basket.

What?

2012-02-22T09:30:00.000-05:00

A few of you were concerned that Henry would be peeved at being replaced by, of all things, dogs on his day of recognition. I maintain he's okay with it, as I believe he'd love a dog brother. I'm considering a Boston terrier since they'd be approximately the same size and colors.

Anyway, here's Henry making his way to my calzone last Friday night. This is his M.O. - get paw close to food, wait for distraction.

In defense of mourning celebrities

2012-02-19T18:40:00.000-05:00

Last week as my friends sat around a table drinking vodka soda, vodka soda, and vodka tonic, we heard the news about Whitney Houston passing away. We let out a round of "awwwws" and favorite lines of songs and The Bodyguard. The next morning we turned on the news to hear what there was to hear (particularly moving in this case, as the news played frequent clips of goosebump-inducing singing), got temporarily sidetracked by a Keanu Reeves death hoax and moved along with our day.

Then on Monday we did the same exchange of sadness in the carpool. We also noticed a trend then. A trend of folks trying to give all of us celebrity mourners "perspective." Reminders that soldiers and poor African town leaders either didn't know who Whitney Houston was, or they deserved more recognition for their dying.

You'll get no argument from me that the death of a soldier is a terrible tragedy. It is undoubtedly a loss that I wish on no one. And I'd be insane to say that there aren't more pressing matters on this planet than the woman who had a voice (even a miraculous voice). But I will say this: I resent the reminder.

I have this problem. I over-empathize. It's a thing, and maybe someday I'll tell you all about it. But for today, let me say that nary a person in my life has passed without having an impact on me. My grandparents, my pets, my classmates, my aunt, the stranger I tried to help after a terrible car accident outside my workplace in 2008, my father and my stars.

I miss the Swayz. I haven't been able to watch Dirty Dancing since he died. I'm sad that I'll never see what amazing thing Heath Ledger is going to do, and that he wasn't in enough of The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. Pete Postlethwaite? I, frankly, wish that guy was my grandpa, and his death makes me think of the flames falling from prison windows in In the Name of the Father ("Giuseppe!"). Hightower, Happy Gilmore's grandma and Mr. Cunningham are all gone. Dixie Carter - the unflappable Julia Sugarbaker - left Hal Holbrook a widower.

So I didn't know Whitney. And so she lived a life that may have predictably ended early and under mysterious circumstances. She's still gone, and it's still sad. Her family lost her, and we lost the hope of ever being a part of a happy turn of fate for another person we knew something of, who made us dance or sing, who we saw triumph once.

Kitten Love

2012-02-15T10:17:00.001-05:00

Henry is just getting another vacation from posing for my iPhone camera again today. Mostly because the mister and I went on a DATE last night and I didn't have time. Do check out his Valentine from last year, though.

Vinterest!

2012-02-14T17:29:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day from my Pinterest boards!

Source: etsy.com via Carly on Pinterest

Source: Uploaded by user via Carly on Pinterest

Source: joannagoddard.blogspot.com via Carly on Pinterest

Source: urbanoutfitters.com via Carly on Pinterest

Source: relax-ed.tumblr.com via Carly on Pinterest

Heart you, blog readers!

Wednesday Cute

2012-02-08T09:30:00.000-05:00

It's not that Henry's not cute this week, but we have to give credit where credit is due, and there's a source of online cuteness that I've never gone over with you:

THE DAILY PUPPY.

Check it now. Check it often. You will not be sorry.

Bang!

2012-02-01T09:07:00.001-05:00

My uncle taught one of his cats - a former stray who loved to sit on your newspaper as you read it - to fall over on his side when you pointed at him and said "bang." Really, he taught himself to do the gun thing before the cat was about to sprawl out.

Henry's "play dead" is pretty amazing.

Girls, girls, girls!

2012-01-30T22:03:00.001-05:00

I spent this past weekend enjoying time with some of my best girls. We've known each other over a decade now, so we compared a lot of our conversations to those we would have had when we first met.

Topics we've covered countless times in the last 10 years:
1. Sex (some of us were talking about it the day we met)
2. Burps, farts and other bodily noises
3. How cute everyone else looks in whatever we're wearing
4. Avoiding getting pregnant
5. The likelihood of celebrity gossip
6. The hotness of Ryan Reynolds (though, admittedly, Gosling has made headway in recent history)

Conversations topics we would never have covered 10 years ago:
1. Mortgages and refinancing
2. Gray hair
3. Pottery Barn
4. Trying to get pregnant (not to mention projected playdates)
5. Paying more for something that will last longer
6. How we don't have time for everything, but we'll always find a way to get together

A shot from the last time we were together (ghetto iphone copy)

Maybe it's the way they can make me feel beautiful and silly, or the way we always roll around to the same topics of conversation in that easy way, but I always leave our little escapes feeling ready to take on new challenges. I'll be crafty like Erin, sweet like Kate and surprising like Stephanie. And I'll be honest and strong, because they are too.

It's a good reminder, at a minimum of twice a year.

I loves your feet

2012-01-25T08:52:00.000-05:00

Love, Henry

Grocery Getter

2012-01-23T20:57:00.002-05:00

Can I start a post like an episode of Seinfeld and just ask "what's up with the grocery store?" I mean, I guess I can, but I got to tell you, my observational humor ain't Jerry-comparable. I've rethought this whole thing and I know you're going to make comparisons. I'll never live up to the hype. I can't turn back now. Soldier on with me, thinking nothing of a hit NBC show about nothing.

But really, what's up with the grocery store? It's bright and crowded, people are touching fruits and vegetables that don't really belong to them, and there are weird things like shoe boxes and drain stoppers hanging way above boxes of rice and tuna fish. Mr. G and I do everything we can to make grocery visits quick, painless and relatively free of junk food, but we are dread to go every time.

I do really like the phrase "grocery getter" though. Probably because my first car was an absolutely ugly powder blue station wagon that I adored.

Places I shouldn't be, by Henryboo Catterson

2012-01-18T09:46:00.000-05:00

Nightswimming

2012-01-17T09:30:00.000-05:00

For roughly the last twenty years of my life the day has begun with a reluctant rise out of bed and a steamy shower. I'd say eye-opening shower, but for a few years in middle school I literally showered without opening my eyes because this seemed a great trick that would allow me to fall back asleep for 20 minutes or so while my brother showered in our bathroom.

Prior to developing a morning bathing habit were the childhood years of bath-before-bed routine. Leaving that behind was a kind of graduation, but I was recently reminded (thanks to a broken hair dryer and a blip in my schedule) of the pleasures that come with ending your day with a relaxing soak.

It's like washing away your worries - the things that went wrong, the ones you didn't get to and what's still to come.

source

It's like being a baby all rosy and powder fresh and swaddled in warm pajamas before slipping into a puffy-blanketed bed to have airy beautiful dreams.

source

It's perfect for accomplishing the tousled look with zero effort.

source

It's not always practical, but neither am I.

Waiter, there is a cat in my blanket

2012-01-11T08:56:00.001-05:00

Of all the reasons to love winter, blanket burrowing is among Henry's favorites.

Dear Mindy Kaling,

2012-01-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Mindy Kaling,

Everyone's reading your book. I know you know that, because I follow you on Twitter. I read your book in a few days (as you predicted), and I just really think we would be awesome friends. Just sayin'.

Warmly,
Carly

Okay guys, now that I've written to Mindy, let me tell you why you need to read her book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns):

1. It's the story of becoming hilarious. It made me realize that I've had my own journey falling in love with comedy, though I've never really looked at it that way. This book reminded me of childhood faves, current loves, and it put a few items on my to-view list.

2. You love The Office. If you don't... I almost can't even talk about if you don't. Well, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you should tune in. Kelly Kapoor (and the evolution of her character) are reason enough to watch. Also, for those of you who are post-Michael Scott skeptical, the verdict is in: it's still good. I got off track. Mindy tells the story of getting her job as a writer on the show and drops plenty of playful jabs at Rainn Wilson. It's great for an Office geek.

3. I basically read it in a weekend, but it totally still counts as reading, especially if purchased in paperback. You're like "yeah I love TV more than real life, but I also read, everybody."

4. Mindy makes a case for occasionally throwing irony out the door and just expressing genuine excitement, joy, or, in this particular case, mourning. (You'll get it.) I love non-ironic sentiment. In fact, I was just talking to Mr. Ginger today about the total lack of irony in my love of Journey. It's just real.

5. The way Mindy talks about Amy Poehler will make you pray to the funny lady gods that Amy's book is coming soon.

There are plenty more reasons, but I'll stop before this somehow gets flagged as stalker material and I lessen my already minute chance of meeting this awesome lady.

Henry's Decor Adventures

2012-01-07T10:22:00.001-05:00

It wasn't until Thursday afternoon that I realized your mid-week Henry post never happened this time around. How did you ever get through your week?? I must say, this first week back to reality after the holidays are really, really over it has been my exclusive intention to do as little as possible. That doesn't sound admirable, but it did feel necessary. Truthfully, I was missing my Saturday routine.

So that's why I missed it. But I do have a Henry story for you today:

It all started the very night we came home from the grocery story bearing early Christmas gifts for our feline friend. The next morning I was out the door before the sun came up, but it wasn't long before I received a text from Mr. G with the following pic:

That's our loveseat. That's the overnight damage of one Mr. Henry. Um, what?! Since we brought these couches home - I'd say bought, but the damn things aren't even fully paid for yet - Henry has kneaded a few pulls out of the attached cushions. We knew this was possible because we let him have his way with two old chairs before moving, but this kind of damage should have taken weeks at that rate and it took a couple of hours.

I know material things don't matter, but these couches represented a pretty giant leap forward in our attempts to act our age. We checked our warranty and naturally it didn't cover the damage. So I attempted my first major furniture surgery. The results?

Not bad! In the weeks since then we've redoubled our efforts to distract and discourage Henry from our furniture. I re-catnipped the scratch pads, the loveseat is currently covered in a sheet, there's tin foil on one cover of the couch and, my least fave, we have upped our usage of the water gun technique.

Henry, in typical cat fashion, stares at us while doing exactly what we don't him want to do ("oh, this? you don't want me to do this right here?"), and he usually follows up a disgustingly bratty moment with a little cuddle sesh. I mean, look at him trying to come off all innocent:

As important as nice couches are to feeling like a grown up, taking responsibility for a pet-child is more important. My latest thoughts are that we need to fill in couches' leg space because he keeps losing things under there, and maybe we need to make room for a big cat condo-tower thingy. I don't know, kids, parenthood is hard!

Anyway, tune in next week for your dose of cute, and I promise I won't turn this into a crazy cat lady blog (any more than it already is). Now, on to the chores!

A very Phish-y NYE

2012-01-02T11:07:00.001-05:00

Greetings, 2012 people! I hope you all had fun ringing in the new year! I went outside the box for my celebration. Part dutiful girlfriend, part pop culture anthropologist, I attended my very first jam band concert in extravagant (for hippies) fashion on December 31st at Madison Square Garden.

So let's make like a good episode of television and back up now that I've hopefully piqued your interest. My little neck of the woods in Upstate NY is pretty familiar with the band called Phish. Plattsburgh was the venue for the "famous" Clifford Ball concerts in the 90s. (Okay, I'm being kind of rude here with the quotes. The Clifford Ball was Grammy nominated.) However, due to a large number of what I would come to call "faux-hippies" in my social circle, I couldn't really get into the music. Also, I have a short attention span and their shortest song is like 14 minutes. Mr. Ginger, however, is a fan. He's actually a Phanatic. He's attended many of these shows over the years and has even gotten his sis on the bandwagon.

We each have our holidays. Colin dresses up for Halloween sometimes because I love it and we go to his house for Thanksgiving. So as part of my journey toward adulthood I took a step into my past and put on some sparkly shoes (not Birkenstocks) and got my energy up for a big arena concert.

The experience began before we even went inside, with mobs of people outside trying to get last minute tickets. This is where I saw most of the hipsters. Hippies apparently don't mind planning ahead. Then we went in to observe the lights and songs I can't tell apart.

Here are some observations from the inside:

This is a poor cell phone attempt to capture what looked like an indoor city skyline of blinking NYE glasses, glow sticks and sparkling clothes. And the best part was that intermittently the skyline erupted in a glowing rain of sticks that can only be compared to fireworks. I didn't like getting hit with ones that rained my way, but it was a sight!

Everyone in the crowd was incorrigibly excited. The beginning bars of each song (which I usually couldn't distinguish) a swell of excitement rippled through these crazy kids. "Oh my God, FLUFFHEAD?!" was my favorite reaction because it sort of sounds like an insult.

At the stroke of midnight MSG became like a giant gumball machine! My feet hurt, they were starting their third set (yes, third!), and any buzz that I had acquired via $10 beer was gone. But these balloons made me very happy.

And finally, you may not set this clearly, but those are friggen people flying above the crowd!They were there, in the crowd all along, and then they were flying above everyone, flashing lights out of their hands like Ironman. If I had indulged in something harder than a few beers, I would have been beside myself with amazement.

I feel too old to stay out in NYC til 4 AM, but that's what I did. With Phish, aching feet and glow sticks in my hair and everything. It felt pretty good.

Cute things from the holidays (including Henry)...

2011-12-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

(Sox "Not Henry" Cat)

Henry gift idea...

2011-12-21T09:30:00.000-05:00

Write this down

2011-12-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

A while ago a friend sent me this article on writing things down. I think she sent it to me because I am a known anti-technologian and daily to-do list writer.

The need to write things down is probably different for everyone, and for me it's very strong. Since investing in my iPhone I have started exactly two lists on my Notes app and have gone through dozens and dozens of paper to-do lists. (Sidenote: I use scrap and every inch of it.) Student writers, maybe that all writers, often ask "why do I write?" I can't usually wrap my head around that big idea, but why do I write things down?

1. Despite my teachers' best advice and because of it. My AP English teacher told us that writing wasn't a stroke of genius, but a prolonged and attentive process whereby we laboriously bring forth a composed piece of work. Correct. My college writing professor told us to always write something down every day -- paper style. It may not be anything, but it may be something. Also correct.

For the past two weeks I have had a phrase in my head that I keep meaning to write down. I turn it over and try it out. I can't wait to write it down. Typing won't do. I'd tell you here, but it's still a secret, and it may be something.

2. Seems more official. I don't know if you know this, but a lot of adult stuff isn't fun to do. Crossing gross stuff like cleaning the litter box of my list make it easier.

Also, I'm not the most present-minded person (that's the opposite of absent-minded, right?) If I have a moment when I remember something important but can't act on it, writing it down is the only way to even remotely expect that I'll get to it later. I mean, I could tell Siri to remind me, but talking to my phone in the middle of my open office or on the T is a humiliating idea.

3. Penmanship counts, yo! Okay, my handwriting isn't awesome. (Once a former landlord told me it was "dramatic," which I find insulting and accurate.) But I like writing things. I like cursive and I like print and I strive to write as beautifully and legibly as my mother.

If I could write this blog to you in handwritten letters I would.

Can-Can Cat

2011-12-14T09:30:00.000-05:00

On Monday Henry decided he needed to climb on every surface in the apartment that he hasn't before. Hot spots included the linen closet shelf, a wine glass-grazing leap onto the bar and this trashy adventure. But he does manage to make it all look classy.

GSD

2011-12-11T19:05:00.001-05:00

At my old job we had a phrase for when you were really (or really needed to be) decisive and productive. Team GSD, or Get Shit Done, was the winning team in theory, though not always in reality.

Anywho, as I review my last post with a few more cards, gifts and other projects under my belt, I am feeling a bit further ahead of the game (or at least less behind).

Now this picture isn't the epitome of organized, but it shows how things get done around here.

Hello, Holidays

2011-12-07T18:56:00.001-05:00

For the last month or so at work we've been peppering our copy with holiday references. A lot of my assignments have involved reminding people how darn stressful these holidays can be, but I, personally, have felt none of this supposed stress.

Then I looked around and realized I was giving up blog writing to make Christmas cards, giving up cards to knit presents, giving up knitting to online shop, giving up shopping due to lack of success. And at the end of this illogic proof, Christmas is less than three weeks away and I've made exactly two cards and purchased one present. I did have time to start decorating the crib though.Maybe I'll finish that before I leave for New York.

Time to boogie, friends! How are you doing with all your holiday funtivities?

Henry's Early Christmas

2011-12-07T09:30:00.000-05:00

Whoops! Hensday a bit late

2011-11-30T11:17:00.001-05:00

Hey there, Hensday fans!

I was so busy working from home I forgot to post you a Henry shot. In honor of that mistake I'd like to show you my frequent work-from-home supervisors:

Enjoy the rest of your week!

Hugging ghosts

2011-11-28T19:01:00.000-05:00

Over the holiday weekend I had a wonderful time with Mr. G's fam and friends. Really, it was pretty perfect, complete with gingerbread house-making. But I also had some moments. As much as I hate to live up to a cliche, it seems I'm going to be one of those people who can't escape a certain sadness at the holidays. It came about in a strange way, but I ended up crying on Colin's shoulder for a bit over my family.

Sometimes I wonder what that statute of limitations is on talking about someone you miss. It's been 10 years (almost exactly) since my Aunt Cathy died, and I still miss her. When I think about her I hear her voice, punctuated with the inhalations and exhalations of her cigarettes, and it's the only time I still thinking of smoking as somewhat glamorous -- she would literally snort at the idea of herself as glam. Ten years ago was evidently a big year for me, for all the reminiscing I've done in 2011. Of all the things, losing Cathy is what I think of the most.

Now when I think of her, I think of Todd too. My dad's been gone about a year and a half, and a few weeks ago, while riding the T, I was overcome with the urge to hug him. The feeling of safety that accompanied his stocky strength was pretty lost on me when he was alive. As a stepdad/daughter we had to grow into things like affection, and when we did it quickly became something I took for granted, as most kids do. I blinked to keep my tears wobbling around in my eyes.

Come to think of it I was also struck by memories of hugging Aunt Cathy once upon a time. I never noticed how slight her shoulders were when she was healthy, but toward the end I remember it was difficult to hug her. I felt her weakness and it squeezed at my heart so hard even as I kept my embrace so gentle and, to be honest, much too brief.

There are bound to be embraces throughout my life that bring me comfort, familiarity, even strength, but none will fill that void. As the ticker goes up on a lifetime of hugs, the percentage of those from my lost loved ones will only go down. So what can I do? The only thing I can, I suppose, keep hugging everyone. Even the ghosts.

Happy Hensgiving

2011-11-22T23:03:00.001-05:00

Henry hopes they are hiring

2011-11-16T09:30:00.000-05:00

He's reading an essay called "Success"

Sommelier Cat

2011-11-09T09:30:00.000-05:00

He's bored with your Cabernet selection. And Colin creeping in his shot.

"Everybody Pants Now" or "Suffixes"

2011-11-05T15:25:00.001-04:00

I have two opposing language tendencies that I'm not only okay with, I love:

Tendency One: Abbrevs (long e sound)

Sometimes words are just too long. It's like when your cat makes too much noise walking around or you can't open a bottle of soda without getting it everywhere. It's a realistic problem. When words are too long for me to say without taking a nap in the middle, I just shorten them up. It's easy. It's ease. (That one you can't tell, but it's shorter out loud). And, I mean, think about how meta it is that I abbrev abbreviation. I know that's totes not what meta means, but it feels right.

It is obvious to me that a lot of people are in on this word trend and its cousin which I will decide right now to call word smashes. Here's an annoying word smash: fashionista + shops at ____store = _____inista. Here's an awesome one: DunderMifflinfinity. Some frequent word smashes (womash) that I am abusing right now are Sleven for 7-11 and awes for awesome.

Tendency Two: Suffixes

Sometimes a word just isn't adorable/awkward enough to convey my full meaning. That's when I have to suffix that thing. Sometimes a plural with do, like when I'm tireds. But sometimes I'm really tireds, or tiredsies. You've met Henryboo, Henry's extended moniker, and in some blend of a suffix and a word smash, we have BALLS. Sometimes stuff is just so crazy it's balls crazy which makes it Amazeballs or balls-hot. (Speaking of crazy, I've never said cray-cray out loud, but I like it when other people do.)

My new favorite suffix is pants (evidence here). It didn't start with this video, but the hilarity that Amy Poehler delivers is always worth featuring:

Now you would think that shortening and lengthening words wouldn't be all that necessary, or that they wouldn't both be in the same cup of tea for one chick trying to maximize the awesomesauceness of the English language. But they are. So theresies.

Bonus Henry

2011-11-02T18:28:00.001-04:00

Brought to you by the blogger app on MY NEW IPHONE.

Sous chef

2011-11-02T09:30:00.000-04:00

Hello, Gigglepants

2011-10-30T11:51:00.000-04:00

I always assume that I'm the last to know about cool things, so you've all probably heard about Hello Giggles. but just in case you haven't, or if you missed a post or two, here's a round up of my faves:

The post that drew me in (and fueled my continued adoration of the lady behind Kelly Kapoor).

I'm sorry, I didn't know know that recapping SBTB was an option for a writing job. Where do I sign up?!

A breakdown of love types that had me tearing up.

A dude perspective on growing up and becoming a parent.

Enjoy!

ps - I just had a thought. Maybe if enough of you click through to Hello Giggles from my blog they'll notice and be like "Hey, girl, you want to write TV recaps of ANTM and Sons of Anarchy for us? That's weird, but okay!" Just sayin'.

Hensday (formerly known as Wednesday)

2011-10-26T09:30:00.000-04:00

I know that not all of you come to this blog to see pictures of what I think of as an insanely adorable cat, but you probably also don't come here to read the same posts over and over again. So, with that said, you're getting the cat in a new feature I'd like to introduce: Your Weekly Henry. Without further ado:

Caption contest?

Grow up, Lady

2011-10-24T21:47:00.000-04:00

About a week into my new job I realized I'd traded my status as one of the oldest in the room for a new status as one of the oldest in the room. Each day I work with about a ten people (9 to 1 women to men) ages 22 to 30. They slowly learn things about me that reveal my oldness: committed relationship, thriving pet, knitting prowess and a general knowledge of insurance practices.

But then again I introduced many of them to Suri's scathing commentary, I pack lunches that resemble those of a third grader and I am too shy to introduce myself to the sales team. But these things are not so much. Somehow I am slowly being convinced that I am a mature person after all, living a normal life for a woman my age.

I had a conversation about my growing age complex with a friend. She had this to say: "I hate that I'm not the youngest bitch at the bar." And that friend, my friends, is 23.

I miss the country

2011-10-15T18:05:00.003-04:00

Whenever I'm home for more than three consecutive days I 1) become a couch-dwelling lump and 2) I remember why I moved away. But whenever I'm gone for more than a few months, I can't help but miss it.

It's not just that my mother is there, though that is reason enough to want to be there too. It's not even that the place holds much charm, though year-round Christmas lights are charming to some. It's just that sometimes being here, and not there, pisses me off.

Just this past week I went to the convenience store near my new office and was reminded of something I miss. Unlike my old office in a bustling neighborhood full of restaurants (actually mostly banks and cell phone stores), my new office is in a little town miles north of the city, so my snack options are limited to pizza or something from 7-11. I went with some girls from the writer's room and we made our way to the cashier the same time as an older gentleman (not like grandpa old but dad old). Despite the fact that we were clearly three girls with three separate snacks, he insisted that we all go first. This would happen back home.

Today was sunny and breezy so I decided to get out and run some errands instead of tending to my customary domestic duties. It wasn't long before I realized this was another day where I should have stuck to the usual, much like this day. Two kids on scooters sidelined me on the narrow sidewalk, ladies with carts in department stores (always a mystery to me) would shove them forward with very little concern for where anyone else was standing, and of course the more I felt like the world didn't deserve it, the more I felt compelled to force my politeness on them. I held a door open for a lady with a stroller and she didn't so much as glance back at me, let alone thank me. I drew the line when two separate people cut me in line at CVS. "There's a line. There's a LI-nah." This would not happen back home.

It's not like the North Country is Pleasantville, full of happy neighbors and obligatory pomp in every interaction. Really people keep to themselves more there than they do here, in most cases. But we know enough to stay out of one another's way, or to apologize when we stop in the middle of someone else's path. A man in a convenience store would let three girls go in front of him, but he'd probably just signal that politeness with a grunt or a sigh.

Once when I was seven or eight, I cut someone in line at the grocery store and remained unapologetic. My mother was absolutely appalled. She widened her eyes, apologized to the woman I so rudely cut off without looking at me, and paid for my sunflower seeds. When we got outside I caught hell. No one had to wait or be embarrassed while I got my lesson. She waited until we left. And she didn't try to take pictures of me on her iPhone in the middle of a crowded sidewalk.

I feel like I'm becoming an old crank. I guess that's one way of growing up.

New Kid

2011-10-04T21:30:00.000-04:00

I've been at my new job for more than a week. In some ways, miraculously, I feel like I've been there much longer. At no point have I accidentally moved back in my mind, waking to imagine myself walking to my old desk. I feel very anchored in what is now.

That doesn't mean that I haven't missed my old job. I may not have mentioned it, but Mr. Ginger and I used to work together. Not day in and day out, but in the same small company. The only time we didn't work together, until now, was a few months when I was teaching and going to school full time. Not for nothing, but that is when we had our break up. So it makes me a little nervous, sometimes, and sad to realize I go long stretches without knowing what's up in his world, even though I can still imagine it. I know that's a weird, like, honeymoony thing to say, but trust me we've passed that threshold. It's just weird, okay.

The truth is I worked at my old company for four and half years, all told, and I made a lot of good friends there. I was one of the last to leave, so it feels strange to think that we were once all there and are now all gone, like when my cousins and I grew up and moved away from Upstate NY.

Now I'm working at a new place, for more than a week. Other than the fact I misread the implied dress code a little on day one I fit in quick. I jumped in to conversations being held across our little writer's room and we already had our first night out with drinks. But I'm not forgetting I'm the new kid. I bite my tongue every few times my brain wants to jump in with a relevant factoid. I try for a little headphone time each day. I consider sending chatty instant messages, as was the habit in my old office, but I don't yet. My adolescent mind says "don't make a bad impression" and "you'll sound like a know-it-all!" I mean, I want to go at least a month before they realize I'm a know-it-all.

So that's me. New kid. Until they hire someone else.

Perplexing Purchases Part Two: Boots

2011-10-01T10:27:00.000-04:00

First, I must thank you all for the advice and options you sent me with regard to my first shopping conundrum. Whether I go Home Goods or homemade I feel more confident that I'll find something that's just right.

My other consumerist concern these days is much smaller scale: new boots. I wore my old gray suede boots out. I mean I wore those suckers everywhere in the two winters I had them, including to the Felice Brothers concert in a Western Mass blizzard. This was their last trip, as the combo of soaking and salt left them elfin and unwearable.

Naturally I started my search looking for essentially the same boots, but maybe not in suede. Ta da!

Chinese Laundry Newbie Slate

These look great, right? The only difference from my old ones is 1) leather and 2) that little buckle thing on the bottom. But that was enough to make me shop around.

ALDO Shehane Black

These fine boots do come in gray but I don't like the mottled look of the leather. I love the heel so much I thought maybe I should reconsider my commitment to a single color option. My legs are really short so I started to think maybe black is the way to go, especially if I'm going to be wearing black leggings, to keep from breaking my legs up with too many colors. But if color is now open, might as well check out brown. I am pretty fair so brown is probably a more flattering neutral anyway. And then there were these:

Nine West Newsflash Medium Brown

Despite the fact that we're now back to considering that ankle-buckle thing, these are in the running if for no other reason than that sexy zipper up the back!

I have visions of creating some sort of Frankenboot from all these options. Even if I could, though, I'd still have to choose a color. I do already have a pair of tan knee-highs with a stacked heel which I love. But I won't be wearing those every day since my tootsies have gotten a little more sensitive in my old age.

So, what do you think? What boots will you be wearing this fall/winter?

Perplexing Purchases Part One: Rugs

2011-09-27T21:22:00.000-04:00

So we've got the apartment in pretty good shape. There is one nearly-empty cardboard box sitting in the bedroom and despite my best intentions the biggest closet in this place became a mega junk drawer. But other than that we're just a few framed photos and throw pillows away from domestic super perfection.* That and a rug.

Did you all know how expensive an area rug is? Thanks for telling me! I've been searching for the perfect rug to go with our most excellent gray couches, to balance Mr. G's traditional style with my more contemporary take. (Apparently it's called "transitional." Learning!) I thought a simple geometric thing might be just the ticket. I was also pretty darn set on yellow or green.

Source: createhdesign.wordpress.com via Carly on Pinterest

Source: homedecorators.com via Carly on Pinterest

But each of these rugs, when properly shaped and sized for our room, is pretty pricey! If a majority of this rug is to be protected/hidden by the coffee table and couches, how can I justify this? Also, hate the pillows that came with our couches. I pictured something bright and geometric there too.


source


source

This is obviously why they tell you start with the rug and build from there. But, kids, we bucked tradition. So, I'm asking for help. One: does someone have a secret source for big, inexpensive rugs that are super awesome? Two: how do I balance these yellows/greens and traditional/contemporary and multiple patterns?

Come back for Part Two where I am incredibly indecisive about new boots!

*Super perfection, for our purposes, means fairly acceptable to most adults.

Last Day and First Night

2011-09-23T20:35:00.000-04:00

Today was my last day of work. I wanted to write and update you on all the happenings. There was just no time between all the happenings. I spent 10 work days searching for and hiring my replacement and trying to finish every project I started over the last few years. I didn't finish. I am emailing in a few things I just couldn't help but bring home tonight. And then I'm taking the whole weekend (Mr. G-less til late Sunday) and enjoying my time doing very little. Monday starts the new job. Details to come. Here are some pics of what I'm enjoying at this very moment.

Some new furnishings

My new lunch bag

Actually using our accessories. Even if it is a tribute to our alcoholism.

The real Henry

Tribute to Henry on my goodbye card from work.

It's a new dawn...

2011-09-13T22:39:00.002-04:00

We temporarily interrupt this barrage of personal stories and pop observations for a personal story life update:

I quit my job yesterday.

To be fair I went out and got another job first. And I really only gave my two weeks notice. But still. Life changer.

Me and the T

2011-09-12T20:39:00.007-04:00

In the past few years I've unknowingly become very accustomed to my walk-to-work commute. It wasn't until I recently attempted a bus and two train rides that I remembered how much terrible human interaction I was missing on public transportation.

It began with the bus, which I'll admit I've never gotten used to here in Boston. I can take a Greyhound out of here like a pro--all the way to Philly without so much as a trip to the on-board bathroom. But from the first this ride on the 66 bus had a stale and inauspicious air. When, at the first stop, a seat became available, I felt an ill-advised relief. The woman next to me seemed agitated but quiet. She had on a cream colored sun hat, the kind you usually see with fishing lures attached. She glanced everywhere and reset her book in front of her face over and over. At the front a too-tan young man stood feeding an ample supply of nickels and dimes to the fare machine. Behind him his companions, three in total, pushed through with a pit bull puppy and a couple of large rucksacks. Once too-tan man had paid for them all, he picked up another four-legged friend--a caged rat. They, with their familiars and family-sized luggage, took up the rest of the bus. But people continued to hop on at each stop. The lady next to me continued her silent Woody Allen overwrought routine. A man around North Beacon started pushing his way back and I thought of lemmings. He had dried blood spattered all down the front of his button down shirt but a seemingly uninjured mug.

We finally made our way to Cambridge and I got out with nearly everyone else though it was a stop ahead of where I intended to go. I heard nickel-and-dime guy shout victoriously "Empty bus!"

I walked to the next station surrounded by people but comfortable. It was sunny and breezy. I went under to the red line train. It arrived almost immediately and was mercifully empty. Once I found my seat in an empty row a man chose to take the seat directly to my right. I told myself not to be annoyed but I took a look around and became so anyway. There were literally dozens of free seats near no one and there was no sign of an impending onslaught of riders. I had my headphones in and playing loud music. I considered moving but couldn't handle how rude that would be.

I went and had a nice visit with my friend. A few hours later another friend offered to drive me back to the closest station. Again I counted my chickens of relief at this hopeful sign. I decided to take the long way back to avoid the bus. I changed trains and couldn't find a seat but there was standing room in the small spot between cars. I like that spot. Soon two boys who might really be considered men joined me. One began to avidly pick his nose. I use the word avidly to mean with intent, interest and enthusiasm.

The two man-boys were speaking to each other in a language I could not identify and wearing tourist t-shirts. I tried to forgive him by explaining to myself about cultural differences. He abated but then began again like a person who cuts a slice of cake in half but then eats both pieces. My throat closed and my tongue retreated to the back of my mouth in attempts to hold off the nausea. I kept my eyes darting away and away. Somehow I could not remove him from my periphery. My eyes closed but I could still see the knuckle-deep pose in my mind. Again I considered abandoning ship but since I seemed to be getting only into deeper circles of metro hell that day I decided not to risk it.

The boys left several stops before me but I didn't feel free until I felt familiar pavement under my sandal soles. Resolved to either never do that again or take some steps to rebuild my tolerance, I walked home in the setting sun.

Ten Years

2011-09-11T14:03:00.000-04:00

The fact that ten years have passed in my life has been on my mind all year. Ten years ago today I was a shy college freshman in braces, with home-dyed red hair and in love with a boyfriend hinting at every possible exchange that we were not going to last much longer. My aunt was experiencing the last few months of her life and knew it.

I regretted signing up for an 8:30 AM science class from the beginning. That's where I was when national tragedy struck in 2001. People were mentioning it to one another as I passed the dining hall, using all ten minutes between my classes to walk to the Carnegie building. Once there, I listened as my co-teachers discussed the severity of a situation I was just beginning to understand was still underway. After some confusing and scary minutes our dismissal was granted and our teachers actually accompanied us to our lounge. Together we watched the second tower fall. Irrationally I feared for the lives of my family, hours and miles from what was happening. Around me there were other eighteen-year-old people; some with more rational fears were ushered out, if they'd made this stop at all, to place phone calls and verify the safety of their loved ones.

It was hard to understand what was happening. It was hard to understand so much of what was happening in my life then. Did some pilot have a heart attack or something? Where did I live and who did I love? Who did this to these people? Am I one of the people this was meant to hurt? Would there be any survivors? What about that plane that crashed into a field? Why did those people have to go to work that day? There would be heroes in these times.

It is not easy to decentralize your ego at eighteen. I felt extreme pain at times, thinking of what one woman was doing now, without her husband, or one child without her mother or big sister. Mostly I considered what those people thought, if they had time or faculties to think anything, as their lives ended. Other times I felt very separated from these events. I had no right to feel their pain and I had pain of my own to feel anyway. My aunt sent me a big lumpy pillow made from my favorite, very ugly childhood blanket. She wrote on the card that she was very proud of me. I wept over it for a while. Then I found my way to the dining hall with friends. I attended the 9/11 memorial. I ate Twinkies and schemed to get beer with the other girls. I decided it was best not to try to understand but just to continue. Things got worse and better, then worse and better again.

In 2005 a grad school professor essentially told me that I couldn't write my memoir at 22 because I didn't understand what the events of my life meant yet. I disagreed, silently, based on the insult it implied. I disagree still, since I'm not sure I'll ever understand but I'll always continue and remember.

Fierce Bananas

2011-09-06T23:02:00.000-04:00

I have this confession. I know that most of my friends are over Top Model. I mean, we've aged out of participating by about five years so it makes sense. And I know that there are lots of Zoe-haters out there. But, quite franky, I adore both Ms. Rachel Zoe and Ms. Tyra Banks. I know that the two are only tangentially related, but for me they fall into the same category of inaccessible fashion reality tv personality.

Yes, Tyra finds herself very amusing and professional and fierce. Yes, Zoe takes a catch phrase and kills it. Kills it. But I still just love them. Maybe there is a fashion soul inside my frumpitude. I can't stop Joel McHale from making fun of their insanity. They're funny. But I like that Tyra creates her own words and will decide to wear nothing but jumpsuits for an entire cycle. And that she decided they are cycles not seasons. And I like that Zoe seemingly believes her husband's name is Babe and she styles a salad like an outfit. I would do things like that if I were enjoying my beautiful life as much as they do! And I would be saying it was all ba-na-nas.

Best of Bad Habits

2011-08-29T22:44:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been a little annoyed with myself for indulging my grumpy and childish proclivities more than usual. The last two Sunday evenings have literally ended in my stomping around the apartment, generally displeased with the reality that going to bed meant I'd awake to work and responsibility. But most of the time I'm okay with my habits. And another member of my family is too: Mr. Henryboo.

New Henry Habit: The Nosy Neighbor

"What are you doing, birds?"

"What are you doing, people?"

Old Henry Habit: The Kitty Blanket Hammock

"Hello. I've burrowed into your blanket."

"I'm falling."

"I fell."

It's cuter than stomping and makes me feel better, too.

Upstate NY: the Hollywood of rural areas

2011-08-24T19:51:00.000-04:00

Just in case you thought I missed another set of super awesome actors seen hanging out in my beloved Upstate NY:

Yeah.

I didn't.

Alias or One Love Letter to J.J. Abrams

2011-08-23T20:35:00.000-04:00

So there was a little slice of time at the beginning of the month when we had no cable or internet. We thought it would be a great motivator for unpacking and, you know, reading and stuff. But, Mr. G really felt like we needed to bring the TV on the first day. With our DVD collection also on hand, I couldn't resist the temptation to throw on some background noise. However, my selection was too good to simply tune in and out as needed. I chose to watch my collection of Alias DVDs from the beginning.

Background: I watched Felicity. I kept my fingers tightly crossed for Fringe to survive another season. Star Trek reboot? Loved it. I dug Morning Glory and Cloverfield too. I will admit, I jumped on the Lost train very late, but I was there at the end. Essentially if J.J. Abrams is attached to a project, I will check it out. Truth is, I still find Alias the best of all.

I happened upon Alias in its first season and remained a loyal fan through the finale. And apparently, for some reason I can't explain, I am one of the few people who did (using few, of course, as a relative term). This show premiered in 2001 when ABC was in a ratings decline (only football got it into the top 20) and three seasons in it was overshadowed in recognition of awesomeness by Lost. It is the reason for my long-term girl crush on Jennifer Garner. It is the reason I was well ahead of the curve on having a crush on Bradley Cooper (though my love for Michael Vartan was stronger). And it is the reason every time I watch another J.J. Abrams series I look for at least a guest spot from Greg Grunberg or Kevin Weisman.

I'll assume if you're still reading you either watched the show to which I dedicate this post, or you're interested enough to learn about it. So, as if delivering a string of compliments to a blushing ingenue, I will go on. Alias is a supreme combination of action, emotion and freaky-deaky mysticism meets science fiction. Jennifer Garner as Sydney Bristow is relatable and bad-ass and her spy disguises are unmatched. The plot is amazingly intricate and yet maintains even keeled enough to stay afloat through choppy waters. The writing is witty and referential with several episodes and story lines that have the distinct sense of inside joke and homage. This, more than anything, gives me the impression that Mr. Abrams and I would be excellent collaborators or at least have a really great conversation at a party.

So, ten years after the fact, I urge you to do as I am and watch this show. And then we can talk about how much we love it together. Not loving it is akin to not admitting that you like Journey. You do, you're just lying to yourself.

This has been letter 1, as I could, and may, write approximately 46 more.

source

End of transmission.

Peter's Chair

2011-08-21T19:54:00.001-04:00

It's not just that I have furniture on my mind. When I read this article about the fiftieth anniversary of The Snowy Day I immediately thought of the book Peter's Chair. Both of these Ezra Jack Keats books bring about some secure feeling like a childhood blanket. Though I couldn't claim either played a revolutionary role in my childhood they did quietly affect me.

My parents didn't teach me much about race. I don't think they meant to ignore the topic, and in their defense, there wasn't much in my small life in the 1980s countryside that demanded I learn about diversity. In most cases I wouldn't advocate for ignorance but the non-issue of racial difference lead to Peter's Chair ending up in my little girl library. I don't know how I came to have it, but it arrived with no great show. It wasn't placed there for some specific lesson I was to learn. It just sat there next to Thumbelina and the Bernstein Bears books.

source

I remember reading the book for the first time in my new room. I had moved, with my parents and my brother, to a big yellow house with blue carpet in all the rooms. When we moved I got to pick all the colors of my bedroom, except for the white walls and the blue carpet that were non-negotiables. So really, I picked my bedspread and left all my favorite things, like my sky-and-clouds wallpaper, behind. Little Peter was having all his old things painted pink for his new little sister. His favorite chair did not look comfortable, but it was his and I understood his desire to keep it blue.

And the pictures in this book. What were they? I later learned they were collage and gouache. I read each page running my finger along the words and I could almost feel the patterns and colors coming off the page. And I did notice that Peter was an African American boy. It didn't really mean anything to me. I liked his overalls and I sympathized with his situation though I was a white girl with no knowledge of city living and no younger siblings.

My best guess is that I was reading this book almost twenty five years after it's original publication in 1967. Unlike many of the children who, upon it's publication, found someone in children's literature to identify with for the first time, I found nothing in it to identify as significantly not me. Twenty years later again I wonder whose little libraries contain these books. And I'm glad for the reminder to appreciate their simplicity and beauty.

When last we left our hero...

2011-08-17T23:05:00.000-04:00

Hello friends!

Its been a busy week or so getting ourselves settled in the new place. We did what seems to be an extremely adult thing: furniture shopping. More on that when the furniture actually arrives. In the meantime we've gotten control of a few of the smaller spaces in our apartment. Observe:

Becomes:

And

To:

Just as a reminder, I claim no special design, organization or photography skills. But I'm pleased that we've made some progress. The living room, however, remains the jewel in the crown.

Yes, that is Mr. Ginger sitting in the back seat of his car. In our living room. I mean we put a cardboard box under it. I'm calling it "redneck chic" and calling it a day on decorating because we're all very tired.

Searches that brought people to my blog

2011-08-08T19:34:00.001-04:00

I am not the world's more diligent blogger but I do diligently check my stats. Each day I look for some explosion of interest in Saved by the Bell theory and Lambert the Sheepish Lion.

And from time to time we bloggers get to see the most unexpected words and phrases that lead people to us. (An old college friend actually regularly shares these search terms on his blog. His are more hilarious.) I don't imagine many of these folks repeat their visits, but I'm glad they at least got the validation of seeing search results come up that tell them they are not alone in wondering about sidewalk etiquette.

Without further ado:

gag gifts. eyes on springs
Little mermaid cover scandal
brothcicles
mustache lady
neon purple exotic dance wear

I'm not sure these people found what they were looking for in my blog, but I hope they did. Fellow bloggers, what are the most off-the-wall search terms that brought someone to you?

The world's most hyped basement apartment

2011-08-06T23:42:00.000-04:00

It ain't the penthouse, but we like it! After months of uncertainty and awkward communication with our landlord, we finally made it to the new apartment. It's as small and sweet as I remember it. While grownupladyme will never graduate to a design or home decor blog, I thought I'd share some pics. We won't be painting any walls or even showering without the diligent use of our provided "hair strainer" (don't ask) but we plan to make our place our own. And Henry's. Poor Henry has just gotten back to normal today and is still adjusting to street level noise.

I'll spare you the seven pictures I took of the closets. There are five closets in this joint!

living room

kitchen with Mr. G's favorite thing... a dishwasher

...and the bedroom

Despite having lived together for three years (wow, three whole years?!), going roommateless has already made this new place feel like a new adventure. Now with cable and internet!

Insert Jaws Music Here

2011-08-05T10:57:00.000-04:00

Hello from the depths of my office. I feel like I'm lurking on my own blog as I'm just below the surface waiting to breach the waves with a new post as soon as we have internet access.

I don't know. I guess it's just Shark Week's impact on my mind. But we don't even have cable yet. Well, I guess that's the power of Shark Week.

The Big Move

2011-08-01T11:00:00.000-04:00

No, my blog is not going anywhere. Mr. Ginger and I, however, are trying not to break our backs moving all our stuff from fourth floor to "garden level" all day today. I thought I'd schedule this post in advance so that while I'm sweating and trying not to tiff because I'm tired and sore perhaps you readers could send me some good vibes.

See you soon!

When you're a Met, you're a Met all the way?

2011-07-27T18:23:00.000-04:00

I do go on about the time I get to spend with my girlfriends, but I've been so busy I didn't get to mention a fun trip that I recently took with my favorite guy. Mr. Ginger and I went to see the Mets play the Phillies last weekend!

Baseball has always been a part of my life. Before I was born my bio dad (this is a new phrase I'm trying out to differentiate my biological father and my stepfather since neither one seems more "real" than the other) was coaching town league and my mom was keeping book. When baseball was on TV--especially the Dodgers--the TV was off limits.

In Upstate NY we had fans of most every team in the league. You'd think we'd be nothing but Mets and Yanks fans but Upstate can get a chip on its shoulder, seeing as its an oft-forgotten part of the world. Bio dad preferred the Dodgers and brother liked the A's. Me? Well I couldn't really choose. There were the Expos who won in proximity and mascot kid appeal, but they didn't last.

And so I've gone through life always knowing a lot about baseball--I'm not one of those girls who thinks its cute to not understand--but having no particular loyalty. Even moving to Boston couldn't sway me. And so Mr. Ginger has seen it as his mission to make me into a Mets fan. This weekend went a long way in helping. The stadium was beautiful and the fans were no more obnoxious than expected. If we were not in saving mode due to the move I would have even bought some gear.

I felt like there should be organ music playing.

view from our seats

I look weird but a couple shot was in order.

My total of major league baseball fields is now up to 3. My brother is trying to get to them all and went to see the Yankees today! For now I'm happy with that number and had a great time on our trip.

Beach Blankets and Jug Wine

2011-07-26T18:54:00.000-04:00

This is supposed to be a very big year for me. It's been exactly 10 years since I graduated high school. At the time I was full of a lot of uncertainty. I had one or two strong connections to my high school--namely one boyfriend who still went there--but I wasn't sure about the rest of it.

As it turned out I only kept one or two of those connections strong (none of which are the boyfriend) but over the weekend I realized that the thing I'd rather celebrate that happened 10 years ago is my freshman year of college. It was not the best year of my life, but it was made exponentially better by the friends I made. Three of those friends and I spent the weekend acting like 18-year-olds one moment and 88-year-olds the next. We guzzled wine. I wanted to sound more refined than that, but we did, we guzzled. (One notable difference was that we drank out of wine glasses instead of direct from bottles.) We fell asleep early. We laid out on the beach and played in the ocean. We sought bargains and cupcakes. We had an impromptu photo shoot and a lovely dinner that included three different bright pink cocktail selections. We covered seriously relationship issues and Hollywood gossip (and a lot about our aging bodies) and practically every conversation led to some old quote, memory or embarrassing moment.

When you go off to school people tell you not to expect to meet your best friends your first year. How could you get matched with a dorm neighbor who could also be a best friend?

2005

2006

2008

2010

Just lucky I guess.

Don't Hassle Me I'm Local

2011-07-22T12:03:00.000-04:00

1. Please name that movie
2. I owe you posts on Henry and the heatwave, Mets game and more
3. I am heading to the beach with 3 fab bitches this weekend so you'll just have to come back and see me soon!

Stay cool. Stay classy.

The arts and sciences of Craigslist

2011-07-13T23:56:00.000-04:00

Craigslist is a part of life for me. I almost just said it's a part of life, but I guess I might use Craigslist more than most. I used to it find my first job in Boston. It provided me with my baker's rack. I used to be one of those people annoyingly clogging up the rental listings by reposting the same ad for the same apartment every day at my old job. I've never needed it for a roommate, but have used it for an apartment, and I use it for hiring in my current position.

Recently Mr. Ginger and I have been talking about Craigslist for none of those things. We've been trying to sell our crap before the big move. This endeavor has led to a few rows regarding online selling etiquette, but I defer to Mr. G since I'd rather not be in charge of it myself. He paints a somewhat rosier picture of our crap than I would using phrases like "some fabric is fraying" to substitute for "our cat has used this chair as a scratching post for three years." He also feels the need to price high. Which, if you ask me, is why we still own all our crap. But really, I know he'll get the baker's rack and the kitchen table and chairs out of here.

I also insist that he's home when the people come to pick things up because I live in fear of being tricked and possibly hurt by a stranger coming here when I'm alone. This is a fear that I've had since long before Craigslist and which I blame the weird abduction sprees in early 90s America for. Irrational fears and slightly overselling goods is what makes us such a perfect match!

I recently considered adding my old microwave to the selling list. I've had it since college and we've lived with our "good" microwave on the floor of the bedroom for over a year. ("Good" items that were saving for our own apartment also include a wooden cutting board, new dishtowels and 2 Riedel wine glasses.) I'm a writer, I thought. I'll just sell this myself. I composed the following line in my mind:

"You hipster kids would probably like this microwave because it's not trying to win you over with 'advanced technology' like buttons. It works with two dials and a rotating plate that mimics your record player."

I didn't continue with that line of thought and decided I'd leave the CL salesmanship to the mister. His posts may not be as creative, but they are less bitter.

But you're so good at it...

2011-07-11T21:03:00.000-04:00

When I was eight years old I was the queen of making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was summer and my brother Seth and I were usually left in the care of our older cousins with instructions not to let anyone in or ride our bikes on the main road. It's okay, we were indoor kids anyway. On those long summer days, unsupervised by adults, you'd expect that my babysitter would feed me lunch. However my brother and cousins often conspired to get their lunch from me--through compliments.

Seth says, "Carly, can you make me a PB&J? I'd do it but you're so good at it." Then Sarah says, "It's true, you make the best PB&J." And then I'm hooked. Really? I do it the best? Well, there's really nothing to it, you guys. I understood, maybe after the third or fourth time through this routine, that it was a ploy. But it didn't totally matter. I did make a damn good sandwich.

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One of my bosses (yes, it's like office space and I have several) said today, "We'll have Carly deal with this" to another person, in front of me. Oh, we will? Carly doesn't have anything else to do, probably. Except that I had lots of other things to do. No one at my office has to ask me to do something more than once, while I sent out weekly reminders to please listen to me. Fine, Carly will do it.

But it reminded me of another comment by the same boss. Several months ago he told me that he couldn't file because he wasn't good at it. "You are though," he said, based on nothing. The truth is, I am good at filing. It's not difficult to be good at filing, but I happen to have enforced more logic and organization to our filing system than it has ever had. But when he said it, it had the opposite effect of the PB&J caper. I realized he was saying "You're good at this mundane thing that I don't really think is that important and don't want to do." Any pride I felt about my new file folders with two-hole fasteners--yeah, like at the doctor's office--was gone.

Maybe the difference is that I love my family and not my boss. Maybe it's that I got to see them appreciate the fruits of my labor (the main fruit being, of course, grape jelly). Maybe it's just that there's a world of difference between 8 and 28. But Sarah still compliments my sandwiches via Facebook and I've never heard a word about filing since that day so long ago. But at least today, when I was being assigned a completely repetitive, ridiculous assignment, no one tried to tell me it was because I was good at it.

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What's your Wuzzles?

2011-07-07T19:24:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I read this post and an old favorite movie came back to me. I spent the rest of the afternoon humming "Cookie Time."

I love reminders of childhood that, if not for an occasional other person sharing the memory, you'd either forget about or not believe were real. I would have thought Troop Beverly Hills was not on the radar of many people, but according to the 70 comments on that post, my mom and I weren't the only ones rejoicing when this film popped up on TBS. If not for Shelley Long and her fab wardrobe in this movie, I might never have learned what jodhpurs are or who Pia Zadora is. But I did know those things. And Mary Gross was hilarious! (Does anyone else remember Feds?)

I have so many of these cartoons, movies and TV shows that I never expect anyone to know. Most of the time I'm right. I mean, how many people watched Cupid with Jeremy Piven? But then, when someone shows the signs of recognition--"I do remember the Huggables!"--my heart sings! I regularly try for these moments at work. Good thing it's a casual office.

I could go on all day, but what I really want to know is which movie, or TV show or stuffed animal did you love that you're sure the world has forgotten??

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PS- Another treasure trove of forgotten pop culture - Sporcle.com. Visit now. Visit often.

Amazeballs Cakeballs

2011-07-06T19:40:00.000-04:00

Ever since I saw this (originally spotted here) I knew I had to try it. A girl at work seemed similarly intrigued so I decided I'd make these balls for her birthday. I'm going to let the pictures tell my story. And I'll try to avoid all the ball jokes I was making to myself at work today:

the beginning

nom nom nom

boom! crumbled.

balled.

"Hey. Where's the creme filling?"

filled!

smoothly awesome

uh... a little rough

victory!

Some notes:

The original recipe doesn't say a yield but I got 18 jumbo sized balls
Also it doesn't really say how much almond bark or baker's chocolate you need. I fell short with about 12 ounces. Which partially explains some of the balls' rough appearance.
I would recommend cutting the filling recipe in half. If you look above I has almost a full pastry bag left after filling 18 balls.
My edges were soft, so I used them.

I didn't get to try these til the big reveal at work! They were fan-tastic. Give them a try, or ask me nicely and I'll make you some!

Honored

2011-06-28T19:48:00.000-04:00

I know I've been gabbing a bunch on here about my friend's upcoming nuptials. Well now they've passed but I am still thinking of what a wonderful time I had. The bride and groom made it such a fun experience and they went out of their way to make the day exactly what they wanted it to be. The two were married by the bride's father and they walked down an aisle outlined by paper cranes. There was no "can't see the bride on the wedding day" and we entered the reception to "I'm Shipping up to Boston."

My friend is a couple of years younger than me and hadn't been to many weddings before her own. As the oldest member of the wedding party, the seasoned bridesmaid and the maid of honor I got a lot of blank stares when questions were asked the bride hadn't thought of. It was my job, I saw, to make sure things went "like normal" where they were supposed to (here's how we exit the room and now is when I'll hand you the rings" and just however she wanted (groomsmen, go fix the favors you just unwittingly arranged upside down) the rest of the time. It was sweet and made me feel very helpful, grown up and honored. When it came time to give my speech, which I ended up not even writing, just turning over and over in my mind, it was easy. Yes my knees were knocking at the idea of speaking to 100+ people, but it was easy to tell couple that I thought they were great and that, despite not always knowing what they were doing, they were doing a great job together.

In case you didn't get your fill of kitten pictures...

2011-06-27T20:31:00.000-04:00

Meet Shadow. Just after meeting him I told him he was my new best friend. He has the reputation of being a little more subdued and less cuddly than his brother. Because I think that means he is less favored, he immediately became my favorite.

And there's Sox. Look at him hamming it up. I can't believe Henry was ever this small, but he was. And he looked just like Sox looks now. I also told him how much I loved him within 24 hours of meeting him.

They have a good time.

That is a dog's tail they are playing with. Luckily she thinks they are cute too.

I wonder what Boo is doing?

2011-06-23T20:42:00.003-04:00

When this posts I'll be home with my mom and her two new kittens. I hope Henry doesn't mind. Wonder which of his favorite spots he's in.

Themes: Hockey and Sparkling Stars

2011-06-21T20:41:00.000-04:00

This weekend I hosted a little post-party breakfast after my friend's wildly successful bachelorette party. I stuck with the black and white theme (black stars and sparkles seem right for a lady's last single night on the town) and threw in some yellow since that's a wedding color. Little did I know, I had unwittingly created the perfect decorations to celebrate Boston's current favorite sports moment: Bruins Stanley Cup win!!

Streamers inspired by Martha seemed like a good idea and they were fun to make. I used nothing but tissue, some fine paper and ribbon. But my real pride lies with the tissue pom poms. I could have made these things for several more hours and would have enjoyed it.


Henry lies and says "I won't eat ribbons."

Tomorrow I head to New York for a little time with Moms and then off to get Johanna wed! Oh yeah, I have to write a toast.*

*I am not a jerk who left this duty to the last minute. I was just informed of the honor a few days ago.

Girls be partying

2011-06-11T09:21:00.000-04:00

One week from today I am taking my pal Johanna out on the town. I just couldn't go with "last fling before the ring" or some saucy lingerie theme, so instead we're harkening back to a college tradition of awarding gold stars for good behavior and black stars for bad behavior. Don't you wish you were invited?

Great Dads

2011-06-10T09:24:00.000-04:00

Father's Day is not far away and is most definitely on my mind. This will be my first Dad's Day without my dad, Todd. I must say I feel very short-changed and more than a little weepy every time I think of it.

I will be spending plenty of time dealing with those feelings on my own, but to balance it out I decided to do something to put some more positivity out into the world. There are tons of great dads out there and since my dad was a great dad, I think he'd want me to appreciate them. I just read about this guy and laughed out loud at his humor, persistence and ingenuity. On a whim he and his wife decided to embarrass their teenage son a bit by waving him onto the bus and off to school. And then he decided to do so every single day in a different embarrassing costume. My dad would've threatened to do this kind of thing to me if he'd thought of it.

Good job, Mr. Price!

When hometowns and fantasies combine: Damon and Krasinski invade my turf

2011-06-08T23:22:00.000-04:00

Reports have been coming over Facebook all night that Matt Damon and John Krasinski have been spotted in Upstate NY. Not just the generic "upstate" that Manhattanites use for everything north of White Plains. The real, honest-to-goodness North Country where I'm from. My mom's hometown! Fifteen minutes from where I grew up!!

This news has triggered cascading responses in me:

1. Joy
2. Jealousy--I'll be there in two weeks!
3. Anger--I'll be there in TWO WEEKS
4. Fear
5. Crazy disbelief

I started to wonder if the rumors were true and they were considering filming their upcoming project there. If so, jealousy and anger rear up because that's MY home turf. That is territory I want to capture on the pages of my books. Not their turf to film and change. And judge. There's the fear. Are two of my favorite Hollywood dudes sleeping at the Best Western in P'burgh and mocking my people? Hating on my grassy fields, greasy spoons and the general lack of high culture? They better not be. (Not that I wont, but it's MINE to hate on if I so choose.) There's someone I know now who always makes fun of Dick's Country Store and Music Oasis when we mention the North Country. Simply because it is a one-stop shop for guns, guitars and gasoline. And that's where these dudes were today.

I think for most people at home this is a fun thing. A funny thing. For me, a lifetime lover of television, film and popular culture, now living in Boston--where those guys are from--it could have been a mind-blower. It kind of is a mind-blower. I don't know whether, when I'm home in two weeks, I want them to still be there to bump into, or long gone.

lurk.lurk.lurk.lurk.

2011-06-07T18:00:00.000-04:00

Lurk is one of those words that stops making sense when you say it too much and/or too quickly. I like it. It reminds me of skunk with makes me think of Robert Lowell. The soft "llll" and hard "kk" give it both an insidious and dangerous feeling, which is exactly what it should do.

Lurker is a good word too. The web-savvy connotation of "lurker" is new to me. A lurker is you. Yes you. Ye who visits but does not comment. Creeps but does not follow. The peeps who somehow stumble upon me and come back again, but whom I cannot pin down. Who's reading me in NYC? Who's checking me out from Cali? I don't know the answer. But I don't mind. You can lurk all you like, lurkers. I like your lurk. But also, you can come out into the light. You can click that little "follow" or add your two cents to the comment field. I promise to still find you mysterious.

Goodbye, Honeykitty

2011-06-06T18:24:00.000-04:00

Twelve years ago, before Henry was a twinkle of a twinkle in a tomcat's eye, I received a gift from my Aunt Cathy. She was little kitten we thought to name Felicity but who revealed her true name to be just plain Honey, which we called her all the time. As she got older and the children in my family grew in number and size she retreated into the periphery, avoiding confrontation but managing to earn the moniker "mean kitty" from the younger set.

She was petite and quiet and aside from a little abscess on her ear as a kitten, she required very little attention from vets or people. She slept in the crook of my legs when I still lived there and when I came home from college.

Today my mom had to put Honey to sleep. I am full of guilt for not having taken her with me when I finally got a cat-friendly apartment and for not being there as they put her down. I am sad that she's gone; Honey, with her little feet. I am sad that one of the last things Cathy gave me, when I was just sixteen, is gone.

Do-ong. Where is my automobile?

2011-06-05T15:50:00.000-04:00

Sometimes people drop out of our line of sight for a while. Sometimes while they are gone, they are off on great adventures like Long Duck Dong was on the night of Sam's sixteenth birthday.

Other times the people who disappear are doing things far less exciting. Working the odd 16 hour day. Cleaning apartments. Going to a bridal gown fitting in order properly bustle her friend. (Okay, that one is pretty darn exciting.)

In any case, friends, I've been away without really being gone at all. Aren't I always telling you that? And just when I was feeling very inspired to write each day. I guess it's time to take a lesson from the Donger and do what I'm inspired to do when I'm inspired to do it. It wasn't good for Grandpa's car, but he had a good night.

Atkins version of a compliment sandwich

2011-05-24T23:00:00.000-04:00

At my place of business there is a phenomenon known as the "compliment sandwich." If you have never heard this term before allow me to explain: a compliment sandwich is a piece of criticism stuck between two, potentially irrelevant, compliments.

I have a problem with this for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it's not really all that nice, particularly when the person you're talking to knows what you are doing. And for another, sandwiches aren't named for their bread; they are named for what's in between i.e. your critique.

Today a sweet friend went out of her way to tell me something nice. It was another in a long string of hectic days and I wish I could have told her then how much I appreciated it. She gave me a compliment. It was in regard to this here blog and it lifted my spirits. And the best part was that is was very simple. There was no need to qualify, temper or tamp down what she said because she was just saying it. People should do this more often and I want to be one of those people.

Unextreme Couponing

2011-05-23T20:43:00.000-04:00

So I don't remember if I told you this, but a couple of months ago I decided to become a coupon lady. What this meant to me:

be a woman who is a little kooky
shop conscientiously
wherever possible buy what I need at a price lower than I usually pay
price compare
look at the unit price

More recently I've discovered the phenomenon of "extreme couponing." I must say, my approach sounds mild, if not a little slow-witted, compared to what these people do. Some differences:

even if I wanted it to be, couponing could not be my full time 35+ hours/week job
I do not collect dozens of identical flyers in order to quintuple my savings (my grocery store doesn't double anyways)
I do not have room for, nor do I have a desire for a stockpile that could survive "a zombie apocalypse"

I flipped the channel to TLC because this is the type of show I thought I would enjoy. Main reasons:

TLC is the channel that brought me Stacey and Clinton, DC Cupcakes and Say Yes to the Dress
I am an aspiring coupon lady

However, the whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth. Like I'd eaten some rotten, old stockpile remnant. I can't pass judgment on the people featured on this show. They've found a system that worked for their lives. One had a Macbook which I considered in my recent laptop shopping adventure, but couldn't afford. So obviously something is going right. But when the totals spiraled downward after running their savings cards and the cashier spent probably in excess of 20 minutes scanning coupons, I didn't want to cheer. I felt a little icky. Blame it on too much experience in retail, or one too many times going to my local grocery and not being able to buy the sale item of a "cleared shelf" but I felt this was just too extreme for me.

When Mr. Ginger and I head to the market we generally save between 20% and 40% just by using the store coupons that are available to us. We have a savings card and I read the flyer online before the trip to plan meals and seek out deals. I could be working harder than that. There's no doubt that I could use the money elsewhere in my life, but I feel okay about it. I used to actually feel GOOD about it. A bit boring of me, isn't it? This is why there's not a TV show called Couponing: Unextreme Edition.

Working Girl

2011-05-19T18:13:00.000-04:00

Growing up my brother Seth and I would sometimes play office with our cousins. I liked the idea of being a high-powered businesswoman even then. I knew in real life I wanted to be a teacher, but it was fun to pretend. I didn't know a lot about what businesswomen did, but sometimes I was in finance--due in part to my Grandpa Jack's kick-ass old adding machine--and sometimes I was in fashion. Many times, though, I was more simply "secretary." My mom was a secretary by trade and so it was pretty accessible to me based on what she described.

I distinctly remember one day of playing office with Brother* and Cousin Sarah at Aunt Cathy's house. On this day Sarah and Seth decided that secretaries usually sit in offices outside the bosses' office so they set me up on a TV tray outside the room they were playing in and shut the door. I happily wrote in pretend appointments and directed imaginary phone inquiries for a while, yelling to them through the door as needed. Then I realized they weren't answering me and opened the door to them laughing and playing Legos instead of Office.

Lately at work I've wanted to play Legos. I'm not a secretary, exactly, and despite my mother's awesome example, I have no interest in being one. But the job that I do have suddenly feels very much like playing secretary outside a door that hides a secret opportunity to be creative and leave the mind-numbing details to someone else.

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*As adults my brother Seth and I developed the habit of referring to each other only as "Brother" and "Sister." We never did this, even as small children, and I have no idea how it started.

Multitasking

2011-05-16T21:34:00.000-04:00

This evening I came home and made two phone calls about a Bachelorette Weekend I'm planning,worked on a invitation, published an Examiner piece, dealt with a few work emails and caught up on my magazine reading.

I just exited our bedroom to find Mr. Ginger in the living room, where I left him a few hours earlier, still glued to his Xbox. In addition... I'm going to say that again because he did not ever fully look away from the TV.... In addition, he was leaned back on the couch checking his fantasy baseball team. That is man multitasking.

Back to the land of the blogging

2011-05-10T18:44:00.000-04:00

Well hello. Here I am writing to you. On this!

Yeah, that's a dark picture, but it is a picture of my brand spanking new laptop! Here's another one:

It's kind of big deal.

Actually it's not that big a deal, but I'm super excited to say goodbye to my sweet but slow little Lappy. More than five years have gone by since I made the big move from desktop to laptop and she served me well. Well, I won't really say goodbye until I get her virus removed and my files back.

But this guy has me up and running. I've been surfing my new obsession. Mostly pinning pictures of my old obsessions.

I've been looking for new recipes to try. Results of one below:

Other good ones here and here.

And I've been working on organizing my life. At work and at home I've started to assign specific tasks to specific days of the week. It's been working okay so far and if it really starts making an impact, I'll share my successes with you, of course.

I've even started posting on Showerhead again. So head over there to hear the musical randomness that is my morning soundtrack.

For now I have to get back to some more work, writing, bachelorette party planning and penny pinching. Just the usual. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

I've gone viral... in a bad way

2011-05-04T18:35:00.000-04:00

Well friends I seem to have gone and gotten a computer virus. For those of you keeping track, that's the second one in a year. It makes me feel crazy sketchy, but I promise I was just playing online solitaire! Anywho, while she's waiting to go in the shop (or while I debate the merits of buying a new laptop when I have no money) I'll be around the blog a little less. I have Mr. Ginger's computer to use if I'm especially inspired.

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Question: Did my brother get the best seats ever for the Sox game?

2011-05-02T18:49:00.000-04:00

Answer:

Yes!

Don't look behind the curtain!

2011-04-26T22:03:00.000-04:00

I don't have much to say right now. So I'll leave you with this picture of an adorable girl and her adorable mom, my friend Megan.

Le chat, Henri

2011-04-21T18:05:00.000-04:00

Henry has been a bit of a brat today. He broke a picture frame this morning and has been terrorizing the spot on the wall where it used to hang. What's that about? But, when I got home from work he did let me pick him up and dance to "Dog Days are Over" which was nice of him.

Sometimes I forget what it was like before we had a cat. Once we move in August, who will watch the little guy when we, you know, jet set around as we are so prone to do? Our lease, whenever we get to sign it, will specifically stipulate: one cat, no dogs. There goes Henry's chance at a little brother.

I know not everyone in the world is a cat person. I wouldn't even call myself a cat person. But I am this cat's person and so you will look at his pictures. And, as Miley would say, "that's...pretty cool." This guy, however? This guy is a cat person.

least helpful cleaning assistant...ever

oh how I have missed you

ps- Henry has been reunited with his good friend the wicker basket. He's still laboring under the delusion that he fits inside it.

Lean, Mean and full of Caffeine

2011-04-19T19:04:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I couldn't really concentrate at work and lacked motivation. My plan today was to get a big cup of hot tea on my way into the office to garner the energy to make the up the difference.

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I noticed one day last week that a cup of tea had an actual impact on my energy level. This has never been true before. I took the chance that the feeling would return and I was not disappointed. I was toe tapping my way through a huge project with focus and energy. Before I knew it, it was lunch. At lunch I got a Cherry Coke. Because once I see Cherry Coke, I know I'm gonna drink it. The decision to add yet more caffeine to my body was quick and easy. And I sailed through the rest of the day, not even noticing when the clock ticked past five.

I have never in my life been a coffee drinker. I do not like the flavor or smell. I remember my dad feeding spoonfuls of "coffee" which was mostly milk to my nieces and nephews and I had no interest. People used to tell me "wait til you have to pull your first all nighter" and "by the time you graduate you'll love it." Those people were wrong. I drank tea only occasionally until I grew up (like 3 years ago) and now I have it about once a week. Soda I drink. I drink a lot, when I'm in between giving it up. In high school I drank two Mountain Dews a day. But, I realized, I've never done that for the caffeine. I've never felt the impact of caffeine that I was aware of. So today, for the first time, I understand why for bajillions of people, this is part of a daily regimen.

I have no idea why I've been more susceptible to the powers of the tea leaf, but I'm into it. Maybe we'll move up to two days a week.

A Monday for Marathons

2011-04-18T19:59:00.000-04:00

Marathon Monday may be one of my favorite events to catch in Boston. I wrote about it over here. I love to stand along the sidelines and cheer, cheer, cheer. I really have so much admiration for anyone who can, and who would, put themselves through such a physically and mentally rigorous exercise. And, well, people imbibe on this day. It's almost rude to stand still and get drunk while some supreme athlete is eviscerating a world record. But, it's what we do.

setting up along Beacon

hydration station

The sad news for me was that for the second year in a row, I had to work during this amazing day. The sadder news is that my office is at the back of a building that is along the race route. All day I listened to roaring cheers go up, cowbells jangle, and I even smelled hot dogs from a nearby vendor.

It's not all sad. I went out when the leaders I had been tracking were about to come by. A friend was down the street so I went to see her on my lunch. And Mr. Ginger even stopped by (on his day off the lucky duck).

the view from the street on my break

On my walk home Beacon Street had been reopened to traffic on both sides. But, runners were still making their way, just along the sidewalk now. The fans had dwindled and the ones that remained were showing signs of hangover. These runners were just as important to me as the ones who finished first. In fact, they were much more important. As I walked against the current, every block or so a smattering of walking runners would go by.

At first I was shy about talking to them. They had about four miles to go and seemed to be only propelling forward by their own sheer will. Did they really want to see me, well-rested and walking the other way, cheer for them? Well, I couldn't help it. After the third person I started quietly saying "good job" and smiling as big as I could. Then I passed some girls at the T stop yelling frantically with each passer. That's when I clapped. Then one man passed with two friends, clearly not official participants. The man's friend looked right at me and pointed to the runner. I yelled out a "wooo" and told him great job and that he was so close!

I got stuck walking behind some girls who were so not feeling it. One had the nerve to make fun of the stragglers. But we passed a Solo cup laden party with members who were offering their possessions (beer and cigarettes) to the women who passed and came out to shake hands with a few people. I felt better. These were my type of people.

I walked along thinking of a quote from Billy Madison. "If your dog gets lost you don't look for an hour then call it quits. You get your a** out there and you find that f***ing dog." If you got to watch this amazing event while I was stuck at my desk, trying desperately to be committed to my work when all I wanted was to do what you were doing, the least you can do is cheer for these last warriors, fighting their way through to the finish line.

almost aftermath and two remaining die hards

See you next year, Marathon!

Motivation Inspiration

2011-04-11T22:00:00.000-04:00

Every day the weather creeps toward warmer temps and more and more people fill the streets. I am inspired to get more active--which is always a work in very slow progress--and I'm inspired to do something I'm a little more inclined to do: clean.

I construct elaborate plans on my walks home from work, inhaling springtime. I become twitterpated with my own thoughts of a spotless, clutter-free home.

And then I arrive home. I feed the starving cat, I do the dishes, and I'm sapped. Sapped, I tell you. So, my goal is to first find a couple of ways to increase the afternoon energy.

I'm going to work on my sleep, as taught by Real Simple's "Your Renewable Energy Plan" featured in May's issue.

I'm going to find inspiration in music.

I'm going to keep up with inspiring blogs like this one and this one.

Little by little I expect this will amount to something. And I expect you'll hear about it. What are you motivated to do these days? Or trying to be motivated to do?

Weekend Warriors

2011-04-06T21:08:00.000-04:00

Since my birthday, and until the middle of May, Mr. Ginger and I have are either visiting friends or having friends visit us. My brother is making his first trip ever to Boston, we've got a couple of weekends, including Easter, to spend with his family in Connecticut, and a few other events to round out the next six weeks or so.

It doesn't seem like that big of a deal but then I factor in that I'm already booking up weekends in June, July and August as well and I start to feel overwhelmed. It's a temporary feeling, though, because it's much more exciting than daunting. It is one more thing to factor in for time and timing, but so very worth it to keep connecting with my friends and family. You can't be too overwhelmed when watching a childhood friend get married or taking in a baseball game with your bro for the first time since that Expos game back when you were kids. You just can't.

Bring on the busy days with good times and great people!

Happy Bday Mom and Mr. G

2011-04-04T18:35:00.000-04:00

Today is Mr. G's birthday. He had the day off and has spent it brewing beer and spending his iTunes giftcards. I just gave him his gift and we're soon off to watch UConn play in the NCAA Championship. Not bad!

Birthdays are funny things. I don't ever want anything for my birthday, but I love to celebrate with lots of friends. A spring birthday makes me itchy for a get-together after my winter social hibernation. Mr. Ginger is more laid back. He just thinks of it as another day. My mom's birthday was yesterday and she's somewhere in between. She loves her birthday just because. This year she is 58, which is a new all-time high for the women in my family. I know that's a weird thing to say, but we're pretty pumped about it. I hope she makes it another 58 because I'm not done needing her advice. Yes, birthdays are funny things and wonderful things we should all keep having as long as we can.

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Friends Forever!

2011-03-31T09:45:00.001-04:00

I've gone and done something, people. I started a new venture. I am officially a Boston Examiner. What's that, you say? Well, Examiner is a national website for news, information and events. They hire local experts on a variety of subjects to provide an insider's guide to cities throughout the country. One of those cities is Boston, one of those experts is me.

I'm not a financial expert, despite my ode to Mint.com. I'm not a sports guy or a parenting person. I'm the expert on friendship. Every time I think about that "Friends Forever" by the Zack Attack plays in my head. A happy coincidence led to me finding that particular opening and I'm excited to tackle the content. At the moment I have only one post live, but give me a break I just started!

Anyway, I couldn't wait to share the news with you, my blog friends. Feel free to check out the page any time. I hope to have 2-3 articles a week. Of course my ramblings, pop culture conspiracy theories, and Henry photos will still have a home here, so don't worry! And I would absolutely love to hear if there's anything in particular you'd like me to write about.

Spring Loaded

2011-03-30T18:23:00.000-04:00

Yesterday on my walk home from work I was suddenly filled with a feeling of anticipation. There was no real reason for it that I could think of. My birthday was over and the day at the office hadn't been particularly exciting. Sun shining, wind blowing, it was just a lovely evening. So what was coming?

The feeling was something like waking up before your alarm, feeling cozy but excited to start a fun day.

Then I realized what it was. It wasn't me, but everything around me that was ready to wake up. Technically it's been spring for a week or so now, but the weather has stayed pretty cold. Everyone's been complaining and waiting for the day we feel the climate magically click over to mild, sunny sweetness. Not complaining? The tulips popping through last year's leaves, the trees budding up all around, and me. For once in my life I'm up before the alarm and totally okay with it.

etsy shop

Weekend Celebrations

2011-03-28T18:23:00.000-04:00

This past Saturday was my birthday and I had a lovely time celebrating. Miss Molly came in from Connecticut and we spent the day ambling down Newbury Street, picking up a few things here and there, having a delicious lunch and getting manicures. If I were making a picture book, here's what it would look like:

Henry gives some birthday love

All Saints Necklace (not purchased, just lusted after)

Rainbows at Anthro

Moll Doll

Lunch at the bottom of a very tall building

tart deco nails

A stoop with a view (too cold to eat out here though

Bloody Sunday Breakfast

Signs of Spring on a Sunday stroll

This picture book does not include the amazing time that was my birthday dinner. With all the margaritas, guacamole, and quesadilla deliciousness there wasn't much time for taking pictures. Not to mention I spent the whole time catching up with some of Boston finest citizens, my friends. It could not have been better. Thanks to all who made it special!

Happy Bird Day

2011-03-25T09:42:00.000-04:00

Today is not my birthday. But it is my office birthday (or "birthday observed"). When I came in this morning I was greeted by a bottle of my favorite soda in front of my monitor. I have a feeling some Office type scenario/backfire is also on it's way. It's going to be a good day.

What Skee Lo and I have in common...

2011-03-23T19:03:00.001-04:00

It could only be that we want to be taller! Well, I also wish I was a baller.

I'm drawn to every maxi dress I see these days. I have one or two in my closet right now, but as these seem incredibly comfortable and like a breezy and put together look for this spring and summer, I'm definitely tempted to add some more. Can't you just see them with boots and jean jackets first, then with fedoras and gold sandals when it gets warmer?

But then there's the whole height issue. Will they make me look short? Maybe. Will they need to be hemmed? Almost definitely. Probably worth it though.

Guest Greeting Dress

$47.99 at ModCloth

Beautiful Cape Maxi Dress

70 at Topshop

Ted Baker Bandeau Maxi Dress with Pleated Bodice

$410 at Asos

Jersey Cross-Front Maxi Dress

$29.50 at Old Navy

Where do you come down on the maxi dress? At least I know I'm not getting to old for these. Minis? That's another story.

Chips for dinner

2011-03-22T21:07:00.000-04:00

Grown ups do not, no matter how worn out from the stresses of their modern offices, eat delicious but unsatisfying pita chips for dinner.

Now my stomach hurts.

Goals for the rest of the week:
1. Eat dinner every night
2. Stop being such a bummer on the blog

Conditional Acceptance

2011-03-20T16:39:00.000-04:00

We found out on Friday that we have been "conditionally accepted" into our new apartment. The remaining conditions are that we come up with the $$. After a lot of worry and speculation as to whether or not this landlord had something against us or was just the most by-the-book landlord either of us (or our friends) had ever encountered. As it turns out, after an hour meeting with lots of him checking things off his two checklists, it is the former. A big relief!

He used the phrase "conditional acceptance" at the end of the meeting, meaning that he'd no longer be listing the apartment as available. The phrase immediately struck me. It is at once formal and businesslike but reminds me of some kind of adolescent social caste system. Isn't that what it was like in those insecure years? We were all friends, so long as nobody did anything too outside the group norm.

So I won't bore you with obsessing over the apartment anymore. We're going to budget wisely and I'm sure we'll chat about the inevitable move. But for now, the deal is done and I accept that unconditionally.

When Irish Eyes are... Yawning

2011-03-17T18:03:00.000-04:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day, friends! Are you Irish? I am half Irish, but I wholly own it. You know, they say everyone's Irish on St. Patty's. So, I'll assume you're celebrating.

I usually love this day. Boston is a great place to live on an Irish holiday, for sure. Maybe I'll muster up some energy by Sunday for the parade, but right now I'm just sleepy. And I think my stress level is giving me a stiff neck.

I managed to get a green shirt on today (so as not to be pinched), but I wish I was more decked out. Maybe in something like this

Clover Cadence Dress

Anyway, there's always next year. Here are some of my favorite St. Patty's posts of the day:

Adorable decorations

St. Patty's as the harbinger of spring

Fashionable St. Pat

Whoopie!

Hope you all enjoy your celebrating or lack thereof. Stay green!

Big problems, small problems

2011-03-15T19:21:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the good wishes (via email and fb too!) about the new apartment. Mr. Ginger and I are trying to keep ourselves from getting too excited or nervous. It seems the "making-sure-you-can-really-have-that-apartment" phase, for this particular apartment, is pretty rigorous. First, we found out a couple of key pieces of information at our meeting Friday morning. The outcome of this information: we're basically paying double the upfront costs we had discussed earlier. At first this meant saying no. Then we both went to work, and texted and called, and hemmed and hawed.

We decided to make it work. Then the landlord decided to make us work. Five days, one check and a payment schedule signature later and he still hasn't given the final, lease-signing blessing. We're supposed to be contacted some time this week for an informal interview. Until I sign something, I won't believe that it's ours.

Then, of course, there are the world's real problems. Frightening natural disasters in Japan have kept everyone worried and sad since Friday morning. I feel lucky that my friends in Hawaii and California ended up having very little to deal with, but I'm well aware many people were not so lucky. I'm sure you've all heard about opportunities to donate to relief, but let me just link up to the Red Cross anyway.

As for the little things, I'll keep you posted.

And the winner is...

2011-03-11T08:35:00.000-05:00

Good Friday Morning, Readers! I must say I'm in a good mood this morning because Mr. Ginger and I actually found a new apartment last night! Now comes the whole "making-sure-you-can-really-have-that-apartment" phase with the realtor, but I'm hoping that goes smoothly.

And now, to spread the happiness around I shall announce the winner of a $35 CSN gift certificate. The winner is...

AubreyLaine

Aubrey, I will contact you via email to get you your prize. I'm sure you'll put it to good use. Thanks for entering the giveaway everyone! I hope you enjoy your Friday and the weekend too.

Lunchtime

2011-03-07T20:43:00.001-05:00

Today, as I listened to a meeting through the wall, I decided that I would eat lunch out. I would consciously go out from the office and sit down and eat, taking my time to get back.

Usually I'd grab a friend from one of the other desks to go with me. But, I realized today, the landscape of my office has changed a lot in the last month. Not only that, but it was Monday and people were busy. So I didn't ask anyone to join me and I realized that meant I'd be sitting at a table and dining alone. I thought about turning back, but what was the big deal? I found a little table and sat with my back to the wall, intending to make up for my lack of magazine by people watching. Instead I ended up really looking at my food. I forked out a couple of pieces of lettuce that looked past prime. I slowed down and dunked my bread in my soup. I didn't think about much, just ate. And I guess that was exactly what I needed.

When I returned to the office I got back to work, glad that the work day was now 50% over. Later I was thinking about lunch in elementary school. Once when I was in six or seven I decided to pull the bologna out of from my sandwich to pretend it was a taco shell. I filled my bolognaco with applesauce and topped the whole thing off with a splash of my juice. My kinder-friends seemed to enjoy the show but then, joke landed, I had to eat it. Bologna and applesauce is not the tastiest combination so I ended up throwing most of my lunch in the trash. I was so hungry the rest of the day! I distinctly remember that as the day I learned not to play with my food. But dunking bread in your soup is still okay.

Hey, did you enter my giveaway yet?

The Magic of Fridays and a Giveaway

2011-03-04T19:43:00.004-05:00

Hello there, everyone! Can I tell you something? Today was not awesome. It started off with me finding out a mistake I made at work that caused someone a pretty unfortunate inconvenience. It continued with back to back meetings and lunch an hour later than usual. Like a toddler, I do get grumpy when hungry.

But then, a coworker gave me a "life changing" salted caramel cupcake. This reminded me that it was Friday. And Fridays contain a special magic that always redeems it. For instance: it was cold and windy all day, but that didn't change the fact that a 5 PM I was set free.

For two whole days I don't have to think about the literal pile of work I left behind. And, you know what, when I say literal, I mean literal. Not the figurative way of saying literal that seems to be totally acceptable now even though it is LITERALLY inaccurate to the point of infuriating me.

What will I do? I will go to the opera. (No, really. I will.) I will continue the apartment search. I will fantasize about new things to put in that new apartment. Things like blue dishes or fresh flowers. Things like home office furniture and a new coffee table. You know, grown up stuff.

And since Friday magic is to be shared, I'm offering another lucky reader a $35 gift card to CSN Stores. Officially, you should know that this giveaway will be for residents of the US and Canada only. Also, there may be some international shipping taxes that the gift code cannot cover in the case of Canadian addresses.

To enter, just leave a comment with your favorite weekend activity on this post. I'll keep the contest open until 11:59 PM on Thursday (3/10) and announce the winner on Friday. That's bound to make for another good Friday feeling!

Overheard

2011-03-02T18:21:00.000-05:00

At first when my train decided to go express to the end of the line just two stops shy of the one right outside my doorstep, I was very annoyed. I almost never take the train home since it's a nice walk and had I known it was only going to cut out four stops I wouldn't have. But when I started walking in the fresh air I didn't mind the burning in the balls of my feet. (At one point in my life I wore heels every day. Now one day in my boots and I can't make it all the way home.)

I got about a block away and I saw three little bikes coming my way on the sidewalk. I clearly heard the second bike say "You're going to have to make a quick turn" and "Do you see the movie store?" The first bike girl wasn't listening, but I think she saw it. As he came into clearer view I could see the middle bike boy was clearly focused on his task. Then the third bike, the smallest of the three, approached and the little girl riding saw something. Her face lit up, her eyes widening behind her blue glasses. "Whoa! Cool hill!" she said and pumped her feet faster.

Yup.

2/27 One year in blogs

2011-02-27T15:09:00.000-05:00

Well, fine friends of the virtual persuasion, I've recently discovered that today marks one year from my very first post on Blogger.

Is this a momentous occasion? Well, not so much. But it is nice to know I've stuck this thing out for a while. I was so afraid to start a blog. My top 3 fears were as follows:

1. I would spill my guts and thus all my good story ideas before they had a chance to percolate.
2. I would start it and stop it within a month or two and realize I'm the most boringest person on the planet.
3. No one would find it, like it, read it or care.

Well, as to the first, I haven't done a lot of story writing in 2010/11 but I also have held in reserve pretty little turns of phrase and scenes from my life I fully intend to fictionalize into something more spectacular. Number two hasn't happened. One year later I'm still not sold on my life as particularly exciting, but I do like my life and I do think I have some funny things to say about it. Fear number three remains as each day I check my stats hoping for some sort of booming success that will free me from my daily fetters of work and financial obligation. But most of the time I'm happy that the people who've found me come back and check in. I would be content to be a little-known but well-loved writer of the common life, sought out by those hip to my vibe and otherwise ignored.

I chose to start blogging right at the start of what would be one of the strangest and happiest and saddest years of my life, though I obviously didn't know it at the time. I wrote about my cat a lot. I went through things that they say force you to grow up. I hung on to some of my most basic childish tendencies and refused to give up dalliances, even ones that I know I'm too old for. Am I an adult yet? Nope. Not so far as I can tell. So, we'll keep going. As always, thanks for stopping by.

Indulgences

2011-02-26T21:16:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I saw this most amazing breakfast/sweet idea I've seen in a very long time. Ever since I've been craving chocolate and marshmallows. Until I get some ingredients together (not to mention some time to bake) this little treat will have to substitute.