Well, here we are again. Just four weeks after getting over a hellacious cold, I'm feeling sickly. It's not quite a cold, not quite the flu, but this weird sore throat, achy, fatigue, headachy hybrid. As soon as I woke up with a sore throat on Monday I knew the bell had tolled. That's always how it starts for me: a sore throat. It usually then progresses to the stuffy nose and fever stage, but thankfully I seem to have dodged the bullet. But that still leaves me with the aches and exhaustion.
The sad thing is, I've always prided myself on my constitution. I only get sick about once a year, usually the above mentioned cold, but this is my second time being sick in less than two months. Boo. I'm going to chalk it up to several things: the sudden and WTF change of temperature the past few days, the stress of the past couple weeks with all my family issues, and my tendency to work a lot. I know, I know, everyone thinks I work too much (although I don't really agree), but I can't argue that I've been pushing myself hard lately. And this is the result.
I want ice cream.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Things to do in DC: National Aboretum
Confession time: I had never been to the National Arboretum. I've lived in the DC area basically my entire life, but had never been And what's even worse? My MOM had never been to the National Arboretum. She's lived in the area her entire life (which is about 25 years longer than me) and had also never been. So I was looking for something that we could do on her birthday, which was two weeks ago on Monday, April 19th, and someone happened to mention the National Arboretum it seemed like the perfect solution. And then we learned the azaleas were in full bloom and it was a no brainer.
Yeah, we're kind of dorks that way.
First things first: the organizers of the National Arboretum are very smart. They know that people are going to want to walk around, but since we are Americans and lazy and fat we aren't going to want around too much. So everything in the Arboretum is driveable and walkable. Mom and I opted for the combo pack: we drove to the beginnings of where we wanted to go and then wandered/hiked through the area, but could then head back to the car and drive to the next display. Which could be almost a mile away, so I prefer to think of it as being efficient rather than lazy.
We weren't there too long, it was a weekday after all and there was traffic to consider, but we managed to hit the azaleas, boxwoods, Capitol columns (moved to the Arboretum after the renovating of the Capitol building), and drove through most of the other areas. We didn't get a chance to see the bonsais, because by then Mom was getting antsy and wanted to head home, but you always gotta leave something for next time, right?
But if you're looking for a really lovely place to take a walk with plenty of parking (and dog-friendly) this is the place for you. And did I mention it's free? Awesome.
Pink azalea
Mom communing with nature. The funny part is, about two seconds after I took this picture she tripped and fell on a tree root and went flat on her face. Now you all know where I got my natural grace.
Me standing by the Capitol columns (look close).
I love this picture. Doesn't it look like some fairytale path leading to a magic kingdom? Although it could also lead to a witch's cottage who will then try to kill you in some overly complicated way so she can munch on your bones. Let's just say it's a nice azalea-lined trail, eh?
Yeah, we're kind of dorks that way.
First things first: the organizers of the National Arboretum are very smart. They know that people are going to want to walk around, but since we are Americans and lazy and fat we aren't going to want around too much. So everything in the Arboretum is driveable and walkable. Mom and I opted for the combo pack: we drove to the beginnings of where we wanted to go and then wandered/hiked through the area, but could then head back to the car and drive to the next display. Which could be almost a mile away, so I prefer to think of it as being efficient rather than lazy.
We weren't there too long, it was a weekday after all and there was traffic to consider, but we managed to hit the azaleas, boxwoods, Capitol columns (moved to the Arboretum after the renovating of the Capitol building), and drove through most of the other areas. We didn't get a chance to see the bonsais, because by then Mom was getting antsy and wanted to head home, but you always gotta leave something for next time, right?
But if you're looking for a really lovely place to take a walk with plenty of parking (and dog-friendly) this is the place for you. And did I mention it's free? Awesome.
Pink azalea
Mom communing with nature. The funny part is, about two seconds after I took this picture she tripped and fell on a tree root and went flat on her face. Now you all know where I got my natural grace.
Me standing by the Capitol columns (look close).
I love this picture. Doesn't it look like some fairytale path leading to a magic kingdom? Although it could also lead to a witch's cottage who will then try to kill you in some overly complicated way so she can munch on your bones. Let's just say it's a nice azalea-lined trail, eh?
Monday, May 03, 2010
There's a lot I want to tell you about my Grandmother. First, that she lived to be 89 years old, which is a pretty big accomplishment all by itself. She lived from 1920 to 2010; think about all the things she saw and all the history she lived. Some good, some bad, but still--almost an entire century of history.
The next thing I want to tell you about my Grandmother is that I am named after her. But not really. She was born Margaret Virginia Riley, while I am Margaret Ann Riley. My Grandmother hated the middle name Virginia; apparently she really disliked the Virginia she was named after. Remember, she was born before Social Security, so when the time came to sign up for her card, she told them her name was Margaret Ann Riley. From then on, she was known as Margaret Ann Riley on all official documents. And so am I. Although I have to admit, I've always been partial to the name Virginia and would have must preferred it to Ann. But I didn't get a vote owing to the fact that I was still a good 40 years or so down the road.
Names were always important to my Grandmother. When she was in fifth grade she was expelled from school. The reason? Some kid on the playground called her Maggie. She responded by beating his head repeatedly into the asphalt until the nuns pulled her off him. But nobody ever called her Maggie again after that.
My grandmother married my grandfather in 1945, right before he left to fight with the Navy in World War II. When they met, they hit it off right away, and he introduced himself as Earl. He asked if he could call her sometime, and she replied, "Sure. As long as you have a name other than Earl." Good thing his name was actually William Earl, or I might never have been born to write this blog post.
People throw around words like "feisty," "spitfire," but Grandma really was. She was also tenacious, stubborn, and very set in her ways. There was a right way and a wrong way, and hers was the right way. And usually it was best just to get out of the way and let her take care of whatever needed doing. It was easier on everyone.
At her memorial service on April 27th, Father Chuck noted most of what I said above, but he added that Grandma was always classy, always a lady, and always elegant. Not only were the things that she did done well, they were done right. Grandma took pride in presenting herself, her home, and her family in a proper way with all the care that many years experience can bring. She was the type of woman who would not venture out of the house without properly combed hair, and perfectly applied lipstick. Example: at around the age of 80 she was helping my Dad dig the holes for the foundation of her deck (in the summer heat having given blood earlier in the day no less) and passed out. When the paramedics arrived, she refused to go to the hospital, as her hair was still in curlers. They made her sign the release form and everything, but damned if she was going to the hospital with curlers in her hair.
But she would go anywhere, no matter how far the distance, if someone in her family was in need. She was always the first one to offer help, whether it was a hug, a hand, a casserole, or a word of encouragement. She was the head of our family, our matriarch, and our center. There's a hole now, no doubt, and it's up to us all to try to live up to her example. After all, you could do much worse than be feisty, tenacious, and classy.
Oh, but you can call me Maggie. Or Margaret if you like. Either way, I think of her when you say it.
The next thing I want to tell you about my Grandmother is that I am named after her. But not really. She was born Margaret Virginia Riley, while I am Margaret Ann Riley. My Grandmother hated the middle name Virginia; apparently she really disliked the Virginia she was named after. Remember, she was born before Social Security, so when the time came to sign up for her card, she told them her name was Margaret Ann Riley. From then on, she was known as Margaret Ann Riley on all official documents. And so am I. Although I have to admit, I've always been partial to the name Virginia and would have must preferred it to Ann. But I didn't get a vote owing to the fact that I was still a good 40 years or so down the road.
Names were always important to my Grandmother. When she was in fifth grade she was expelled from school. The reason? Some kid on the playground called her Maggie. She responded by beating his head repeatedly into the asphalt until the nuns pulled her off him. But nobody ever called her Maggie again after that.
My grandmother married my grandfather in 1945, right before he left to fight with the Navy in World War II. When they met, they hit it off right away, and he introduced himself as Earl. He asked if he could call her sometime, and she replied, "Sure. As long as you have a name other than Earl." Good thing his name was actually William Earl, or I might never have been born to write this blog post.
People throw around words like "feisty," "spitfire," but Grandma really was. She was also tenacious, stubborn, and very set in her ways. There was a right way and a wrong way, and hers was the right way. And usually it was best just to get out of the way and let her take care of whatever needed doing. It was easier on everyone.
At her memorial service on April 27th, Father Chuck noted most of what I said above, but he added that Grandma was always classy, always a lady, and always elegant. Not only were the things that she did done well, they were done right. Grandma took pride in presenting herself, her home, and her family in a proper way with all the care that many years experience can bring. She was the type of woman who would not venture out of the house without properly combed hair, and perfectly applied lipstick. Example: at around the age of 80 she was helping my Dad dig the holes for the foundation of her deck (in the summer heat having given blood earlier in the day no less) and passed out. When the paramedics arrived, she refused to go to the hospital, as her hair was still in curlers. They made her sign the release form and everything, but damned if she was going to the hospital with curlers in her hair.
But she would go anywhere, no matter how far the distance, if someone in her family was in need. She was always the first one to offer help, whether it was a hug, a hand, a casserole, or a word of encouragement. She was the head of our family, our matriarch, and our center. There's a hole now, no doubt, and it's up to us all to try to live up to her example. After all, you could do much worse than be feisty, tenacious, and classy.
Oh, but you can call me Maggie. Or Margaret if you like. Either way, I think of her when you say it.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
MARGARET ANN RILEY (Age 89) passed away on April 21, 2010. Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota on June 14, 1920, Margaret was a current resident of Alexandria, Virginia, and an active member of Good Shepherd Catholic Church. She is proceeded in death by her husband William Earl Riley, parents William and Margaret NcNelly, three brothers, William, Bernard, and Thomas and one sister, Mary Heald. Margaret is survived by three children, W. Thomas Riley, Roz (wife), David L. Riley, Linda (wife), and Kimberlee A. Riley and seven grandchildren: Sharon E. Riley, William B. and Amanda Riley, Margaret A Riley, Marin and Scott Darone, Brian Nicholson. A memorial service will be held on Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 11:00am at Good Shepherd Catholic Church, 8710 Mount Vernon Highway, Alexandria, VA, 22309. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the cancer charity of the donor's choice or the Geriatric ward of the Veterans Administration Hospital of the donor's choice.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Belated Birthday
It only makes sense that I would be late in blogging about my birthday celebration when the party itself took place more than a month late. Blame it on the rain; or more accurately, the snow. The original event was scheduled for my actual birthday weekend back in February when a big group of us was going to head up to Atlantic City. Nature, it seemed, had other plans. Specifically, a blizzard. If you remember, Chris, Kent, and I managed to outrun the storm and make it up there but everybody else was trapped in a snowbound DC. The back-up plan was to return to Atlantic City in March, but again, things didn't work out. Turns out in the Spring hotel rooms in Atlantic City are twice as expensive as they are in the winter (go figure). So, alas, our plans were once again foiled, this time by the over-priced casinos.
But all hope was not lost! I figured, why should I miss out on a birthday extravaganza just because some stupid casinos are trying to gouge me? We then came up with a third plan: instead of travelling somewhere to party, we would just do it here. Dinner and bar-hopping in National Harbor on Saturday combined with a huge sleepover, and then brunch and massages on Sunday. And this time, everything went off without a hitch.
First, we had dinner at Ketchup, which I am afraid to say, had terrible service and only so-so food. The manager was very willing to discount our tab and throw in some free drinks when we complained, but still. I had such high hopes, but I can't really recommend it.
And then. Onwards to the country-western themed bar for more drinks, dancing, and yes, riding the bull. For you see, there is an electric bull, and who doesn't enjoy that. Kelly, Tito, and Rachel all braved the bull with Rachel posting the best time, probably due to her mad horseback riding skillz.
Tito in mid-fling from the bull.
At this point, I had consumed several gin and tonics (though not as much as Selvi, ha) and can vaguely remember singing the song Dance Magic from the movie Labyrinth. You remember the one, "you remind me of the babe/what babe/the babe with the power." Yeah, I'm not really sure what brought that up.
Since I am now officially old, by the time 12:30 or so rolled around I was pretty wiped, so we all headed back to my place for some slumber-partying and Avatar: The Last Airbender watching. And yes, we are all nerds. What of it? After about 6 hours of sleep (ugh) it was time to get up and head out to brunch at the City Diner down the street where we gorged on eggs, sausage, milk shakes, pancakes, and all other assorted brunchy things.
AND THEN. What might have been the best part of the weekend: massages. Believe it or not, it was my first body massage, and while it didn't blow my mind like I was hoping, it was definitely relaxing and quite enjoyable. Selvi and I were in the same room, I guess where they do the couples massages, so we giggled over things like my masseuse saying "your forearms are so tight" and Selvi apologizing for her "head being so lumpy."At the end I did not want to move and walking was a bit of a challenge...but there was hard cider and french fries to be had at the Irish pub across the street so I managed to drag myself out. Oh, and we had to eat the six or so pieces of cake that we brought back from the diner, right?
Mmmm...cake.
All in all it was a superfun weekend spent with superfun people and one of the best birthdays ever. Thirty Smirty. I say, bring it!
But all hope was not lost! I figured, why should I miss out on a birthday extravaganza just because some stupid casinos are trying to gouge me? We then came up with a third plan: instead of travelling somewhere to party, we would just do it here. Dinner and bar-hopping in National Harbor on Saturday combined with a huge sleepover, and then brunch and massages on Sunday. And this time, everything went off without a hitch.
First, we had dinner at Ketchup, which I am afraid to say, had terrible service and only so-so food. The manager was very willing to discount our tab and throw in some free drinks when we complained, but still. I had such high hopes, but I can't really recommend it.
And then. Onwards to the country-western themed bar for more drinks, dancing, and yes, riding the bull. For you see, there is an electric bull, and who doesn't enjoy that. Kelly, Tito, and Rachel all braved the bull with Rachel posting the best time, probably due to her mad horseback riding skillz.
Tito in mid-fling from the bull.At this point, I had consumed several gin and tonics (though not as much as Selvi, ha) and can vaguely remember singing the song Dance Magic from the movie Labyrinth. You remember the one, "you remind me of the babe/what babe/the babe with the power." Yeah, I'm not really sure what brought that up.
Since I am now officially old, by the time 12:30 or so rolled around I was pretty wiped, so we all headed back to my place for some slumber-partying and Avatar: The Last Airbender watching. And yes, we are all nerds. What of it? After about 6 hours of sleep (ugh) it was time to get up and head out to brunch at the City Diner down the street where we gorged on eggs, sausage, milk shakes, pancakes, and all other assorted brunchy things.
AND THEN. What might have been the best part of the weekend: massages. Believe it or not, it was my first body massage, and while it didn't blow my mind like I was hoping, it was definitely relaxing and quite enjoyable. Selvi and I were in the same room, I guess where they do the couples massages, so we giggled over things like my masseuse saying "your forearms are so tight" and Selvi apologizing for her "head being so lumpy."At the end I did not want to move and walking was a bit of a challenge...but there was hard cider and french fries to be had at the Irish pub across the street so I managed to drag myself out. Oh, and we had to eat the six or so pieces of cake that we brought back from the diner, right?
Mmmm...cake.All in all it was a superfun weekend spent with superfun people and one of the best birthdays ever. Thirty Smirty. I say, bring it!
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Screw you, Spring.
Yeah, that's right I said it. Yes, the trees in bloom and the flowers are so pretty and it's daylight longer and blah blah blah.
It hit 90+ degrees yesterday, people. In the FIRST WEEK OF APRIL. This is unacceptable. Those are August-type temperatures, not April. At least in the summer I can seek the refuge of the swimming pool, or my air-conditioned condo, but not in April. Because guess what? They don't turn on the AC in my building until May 1 due to some lame-o Alexandria city law. So you know what I do when it is over 90 degrees in my apartment in April? I sit there and sweat, that's what I do.
Also, I had to sleep with the window open last night (since it was so hot) and now I have an increasing sore throat because of the bucket-load of pollen I inhaled.
SO FUCK YOU SPRING. Go back where you came from.
It hit 90+ degrees yesterday, people. In the FIRST WEEK OF APRIL. This is unacceptable. Those are August-type temperatures, not April. At least in the summer I can seek the refuge of the swimming pool, or my air-conditioned condo, but not in April. Because guess what? They don't turn on the AC in my building until May 1 due to some lame-o Alexandria city law. So you know what I do when it is over 90 degrees in my apartment in April? I sit there and sweat, that's what I do.
Also, I had to sleep with the window open last night (since it was so hot) and now I have an increasing sore throat because of the bucket-load of pollen I inhaled.
SO FUCK YOU SPRING. Go back where you came from.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Rally to Repeal
I talk a big talk, but when it comes to actual action, sometimes I'm a bit lacking. I always vote, I donate money to organizations I believe in, but I'm not really one of those extremely motivated political activist people who is constantly up in arms about something and marching, demonstrating, and rallying. I'd like to think that if I was present back in the 1950s and 1960s, I would have been a big force for social change, but who really knows. I guess there's no accounting for laziness.
Last week, while killing time on Facebook, I noticed that a friend was attending an event called "Rally to Repeal 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'" at Freedom Plaza Thursday at noon. This caught my eye for several reasons. One, I'm always trying to help out the gays. Two, here was a perfect opportunity to participate in something I believed in. Three, Kathy Griffin was going to be there and I think she's really funny. And four, the weather was supposed to be gorgeous and it was a good reason to get out of the office.
It turned out there was a group of us who were interested so a bit before noon we struck out from the office to Freedom Plaza to get all fired up. I would say there were several hundred people there by the time the rally got started, plus many more just in general milling around and enjoying the gorgeous lunch-time weather. There were several speakers, whose names' escape me (I know, I suck), but they were all impassioned, articulate, and excellent. Kathy was funny, as usual, and described her adventures while sitting in on the Congressional hearings addressing "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," as well as the various politicos she ran into. Also, she is SO TINY in real person. Practically pocket-sized.
Kathy ended calling up a soldier who had been discharged under DADT but had been invited back by his unit. I'm not sure how common that is, but apparently it does happen. His name I remember, Dan Choi, because he kind of hijacked the rally, told everyone he was marching over to the Whitehouse, and then chained himself to the gates. I am not making this up. He was then arrested, as can happen when you chain yourself to the Whitehouse fence. From what I have been able to read in the press, it was NOT planned by the organizers of the rally for this to happen, but it sure was entertaining. Although I'm not sure that is the way to bring about real change these days. Really it just kind of makes you look like a fool. I prefer to stick with mobilizing people through inspiration, not by getting my ass arrested. But what do I know? I've only been to the one rally.
Last week, while killing time on Facebook, I noticed that a friend was attending an event called "Rally to Repeal 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'" at Freedom Plaza Thursday at noon. This caught my eye for several reasons. One, I'm always trying to help out the gays. Two, here was a perfect opportunity to participate in something I believed in. Three, Kathy Griffin was going to be there and I think she's really funny. And four, the weather was supposed to be gorgeous and it was a good reason to get out of the office.
It turned out there was a group of us who were interested so a bit before noon we struck out from the office to Freedom Plaza to get all fired up. I would say there were several hundred people there by the time the rally got started, plus many more just in general milling around and enjoying the gorgeous lunch-time weather. There were several speakers, whose names' escape me (I know, I suck), but they were all impassioned, articulate, and excellent. Kathy was funny, as usual, and described her adventures while sitting in on the Congressional hearings addressing "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," as well as the various politicos she ran into. Also, she is SO TINY in real person. Practically pocket-sized.
Kathy ended calling up a soldier who had been discharged under DADT but had been invited back by his unit. I'm not sure how common that is, but apparently it does happen. His name I remember, Dan Choi, because he kind of hijacked the rally, told everyone he was marching over to the Whitehouse, and then chained himself to the gates. I am not making this up. He was then arrested, as can happen when you chain yourself to the Whitehouse fence. From what I have been able to read in the press, it was NOT planned by the organizers of the rally for this to happen, but it sure was entertaining. Although I'm not sure that is the way to bring about real change these days. Really it just kind of makes you look like a fool. I prefer to stick with mobilizing people through inspiration, not by getting my ass arrested. But what do I know? I've only been to the one rally.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Ominous
There are a couple things that happen in life and you just KNOW something bad is coming. Example: the phone rings VERY late at night. This is not often accompanied by good news. Example: an email from your boss saying, "please come by and see me." Chances are he or she is not going to tell you won some kind of special super secret award based on excellent performance.
And another example: a long rectangular piece of paper stuck on your windshield. This usually means one of two things: you either got some kind of ticket from the fuzz, or someone bashed into your car but was "nice" enough to leave a note.
Oh, yeah. You're fucked.
So when I approached my car last night and saw just such a piece of paper attached to my car, I experienced the old "heart jumped into my throat" cliche. Your pulse speeds up, your mouth goes dry, you get a sense a hint of hysteria, and all of a sudden a million thoughts spring into your mind.
"How could I get a parking ticket in a Metro garage? I didn't park in a reserved spot did I? What about a handicapped spot? Oh, god, someone must have hit my car and left a note. Where did they get me? Is there any damage? Did they just open their door into my door and scratch it? Maybe it's all on the other side? It definitely looks like a hand-written note on lined paper. Oh, god, please let me be able to drive the car home."
And then, as I drew closer, I noticed the handwriting looked kind of familiar. I took a deep breath, grabbed the note and read:
"Marg, what are you doing at Huntington? I walked by and saw your car, wish I saw you. Love you!" --Mom @ 5 pm"
My Mom had seen my car and left me a note. Awwww. Also: THANK THE LORD. Crisis averted.
And another example: a long rectangular piece of paper stuck on your windshield. This usually means one of two things: you either got some kind of ticket from the fuzz, or someone bashed into your car but was "nice" enough to leave a note.
Oh, yeah. You're fucked.So when I approached my car last night and saw just such a piece of paper attached to my car, I experienced the old "heart jumped into my throat" cliche. Your pulse speeds up, your mouth goes dry, you get a sense a hint of hysteria, and all of a sudden a million thoughts spring into your mind.
"How could I get a parking ticket in a Metro garage? I didn't park in a reserved spot did I? What about a handicapped spot? Oh, god, someone must have hit my car and left a note. Where did they get me? Is there any damage? Did they just open their door into my door and scratch it? Maybe it's all on the other side? It definitely looks like a hand-written note on lined paper. Oh, god, please let me be able to drive the car home."
And then, as I drew closer, I noticed the handwriting looked kind of familiar. I took a deep breath, grabbed the note and read:
"Marg, what are you doing at Huntington? I walked by and saw your car, wish I saw you. Love you!" --Mom @ 5 pm"
My Mom had seen my car and left me a note. Awwww. Also: THANK THE LORD. Crisis averted.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Nothing to see here, just move along....
I suppose everyone goes through periods when they feel like nothing much is happening in their lives. But it's not really true. I mean, SOMETHING is always happening, right? For example: this morning it is dreary and rainy and cold and I just want to curl back up in bed but instead I got up early to come into work because I always feel like I am not working hard enough even though I work like 6 days a week and am way ahead but still.
But that's not very interesting.
You've probably noticed that I haven't updated the blog in awhile. And it's not because I'm feeling lazy, or I've become too busy. Almost every day I ponder for a good minute or so (and that's actually a long time to ponder something, at least for me) what I could write on the blog. And I come up blank.
This is the same problem I have when people ask the question, "so what have you been up to?" Unless you've gotten engaged, married, had a baby, started a new job, or had some other life changing event, it's kind of hard to answer that question. Up until a couple months ago I used to be able to talk about how I had recently renovated my kitchen, but that's old news. Now all it seems I'm left with is, "oh, you know. Working, hanging out with friends, the usual." And while that's true, it feels really really lame to say.
So even though things have been going on lately, like that I've been busy planning a vacation to England in August, organizing a fun weekend at the end of this month for a belated birthday celebration, getting ready for a week-long work trip to Reno, rushing here and there for various social activities with friends and family, there's no real good way to relate these kind of general happenings.
So what have I been up to lately? Oh, you know. The usual.
But that's not very interesting.
You've probably noticed that I haven't updated the blog in awhile. And it's not because I'm feeling lazy, or I've become too busy. Almost every day I ponder for a good minute or so (and that's actually a long time to ponder something, at least for me) what I could write on the blog. And I come up blank.
This is the same problem I have when people ask the question, "so what have you been up to?" Unless you've gotten engaged, married, had a baby, started a new job, or had some other life changing event, it's kind of hard to answer that question. Up until a couple months ago I used to be able to talk about how I had recently renovated my kitchen, but that's old news. Now all it seems I'm left with is, "oh, you know. Working, hanging out with friends, the usual." And while that's true, it feels really really lame to say.
So even though things have been going on lately, like that I've been busy planning a vacation to England in August, organizing a fun weekend at the end of this month for a belated birthday celebration, getting ready for a week-long work trip to Reno, rushing here and there for various social activities with friends and family, there's no real good way to relate these kind of general happenings.
So what have I been up to lately? Oh, you know. The usual.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
For a good time, call a Jew.
Last Saturday, my youngest cousin Sarah had her bat mitzvah. For those not in the know (from wiki):
PARTY!
During the service at Sarah's home synagogue in Maryland, my mother turned to me and said, "there's a lot of joy in this room, isn't there?" And it's true. The room was full of people who were bursting with pride for Sarah, and not just because her reading of the Torah was magnificent and her speech was wonderful. But because they had seen her grow up into a poised and, dare I say, wise young woman. I know that sounds cheesy, but what can I say? Sometimes the cliche is true. And when Jews are happy, they aren't ones to stay quiet about it.
Seriously, Jews take any excuse to sing, clap, stamp our feet, bang on the table, dance, shout, and find any way to express happiness. And that's why they're great. Oh, and did I mention the wine drinking? My people! Gotta love them.
After the service, we spent a fun afternoon visiting with one my mother's 40 cousins (....that may not be that great of an exaggeration), and then it was off to the community rec center for the party. There were sparkly masks to go along with the Mardi Gras theme, cupcakes, and drinks. Drinks that me and Mom's cousins promptly spiked with the bourbon and gin we snuck in with us. What? I said we took any excuse to party!
And I even managed to get Mom and some of her cousins out on the floor to dance along with all of Sarah's 13 year old friends. It was a bat mitzvah miracle!
Who is that masked woman?
Mom does love her gin. Shh! Don't tell.
Round and round they go...
According to Jewish law when Jewish children reach the 13 years for boys and 12 for girls they become responsible for their actions, and "become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah". In many Conservative and Reform synagogues, girls celebrate their Bat Mitzvahs at age 13, along with boys. This also coincides with physical puberty. Prior to this, the child's parents hold the responsibility for the child's adherence to Jewish law and tradition and, after this age, children bear their own responsibility for Jewish ritual law, tradition, and ethics and are privileged to participate in all areas of Jewish community life.So basically, when someone turns 13 in the Jewish faith, they are considered an adult member of the community. And you know what that means...
PARTY!
During the service at Sarah's home synagogue in Maryland, my mother turned to me and said, "there's a lot of joy in this room, isn't there?" And it's true. The room was full of people who were bursting with pride for Sarah, and not just because her reading of the Torah was magnificent and her speech was wonderful. But because they had seen her grow up into a poised and, dare I say, wise young woman. I know that sounds cheesy, but what can I say? Sometimes the cliche is true. And when Jews are happy, they aren't ones to stay quiet about it.
Seriously, Jews take any excuse to sing, clap, stamp our feet, bang on the table, dance, shout, and find any way to express happiness. And that's why they're great. Oh, and did I mention the wine drinking? My people! Gotta love them.
After the service, we spent a fun afternoon visiting with one my mother's 40 cousins (....that may not be that great of an exaggeration), and then it was off to the community rec center for the party. There were sparkly masks to go along with the Mardi Gras theme, cupcakes, and drinks. Drinks that me and Mom's cousins promptly spiked with the bourbon and gin we snuck in with us. What? I said we took any excuse to party!
And I even managed to get Mom and some of her cousins out on the floor to dance along with all of Sarah's 13 year old friends. It was a bat mitzvah miracle!
Who is that masked woman?
Mom does love her gin. Shh! Don't tell.
Round and round they go...Thursday, February 18, 2010
Step It Up
Well, I guess that decides it. Both my parents have suffered major cardiac problems within the past two years (before the age of 60) and at least one grandparent on each side of my family has died from heart-related problems (just before or after 60). What does that mean for me?
I'm totally hosed.
But I guess that really depends on me. After my mother had a heart attack, I decided to make some major lifestyle changes. I cut out processed food, began to really pay attention to my sodium intake, and became more dedicated to working out. And I lost about 20 lbs. Recently though I seem to have plateaued, and now its time to step it up.
Since about November of last year I've been focusing on working out at least 5 times a week. But here are the new rules: a "work out" consists of at least 30 minutes of solid activity. If I don't sweat buckets, it doesn't count. I'm also going to keep track of the workouts. I got some great suggestions over from my peeps on Facebook, including one from my friend Lis' blog (Inchoate Debate) to make a workout calendar with big red Xs on the days where I meet my goal. To help motivate myself, for every month that I meet the 5 workout a week goal, I'm going to treat myself to a reward. An item from my Amazon wishlist, a manicure or pedicure, or maybe some neat workout gear, but it will be something. FYI, I always go for the carrot rather than the stick, at least when it comes to self-motivation. Never underestimate the power of a good stick when trying to motivate others.
I'm also going to do better about keep track of my progress (i.e. buying an actual scale) and measuring my blood pressure. Maybe my first workout reward will a blood pressure machine!
Hmm. I'm not sure the "new blood pressure machine!" is really doing it for me in terms of a reward. So maybe I'll go for the Doctor Who specials on blu-ray instead.
There you have it: 5 workouts a week, continue avoiding processed food and eating lots of fruits and vegetables, and in general keep living an active life. I also can't wait for the weather to warm up so I can get back to my walks. After Mom's heart attack I started walking in the evenings and weekends about two to three times a week and I was pleasantly surprised by how much I have missed it since the winter kicked in. It's funny how quickly something can become a habit. So come on Spring, get me back out there!
I'm totally hosed.
But I guess that really depends on me. After my mother had a heart attack, I decided to make some major lifestyle changes. I cut out processed food, began to really pay attention to my sodium intake, and became more dedicated to working out. And I lost about 20 lbs. Recently though I seem to have plateaued, and now its time to step it up.
Since about November of last year I've been focusing on working out at least 5 times a week. But here are the new rules: a "work out" consists of at least 30 minutes of solid activity. If I don't sweat buckets, it doesn't count. I'm also going to keep track of the workouts. I got some great suggestions over from my peeps on Facebook, including one from my friend Lis' blog (Inchoate Debate) to make a workout calendar with big red Xs on the days where I meet my goal. To help motivate myself, for every month that I meet the 5 workout a week goal, I'm going to treat myself to a reward. An item from my Amazon wishlist, a manicure or pedicure, or maybe some neat workout gear, but it will be something. FYI, I always go for the carrot rather than the stick, at least when it comes to self-motivation. Never underestimate the power of a good stick when trying to motivate others.
I'm also going to do better about keep track of my progress (i.e. buying an actual scale) and measuring my blood pressure. Maybe my first workout reward will a blood pressure machine!
Hmm. I'm not sure the "new blood pressure machine!" is really doing it for me in terms of a reward. So maybe I'll go for the Doctor Who specials on blu-ray instead.
There you have it: 5 workouts a week, continue avoiding processed food and eating lots of fruits and vegetables, and in general keep living an active life. I also can't wait for the weather to warm up so I can get back to my walks. After Mom's heart attack I started walking in the evenings and weekends about two to three times a week and I was pleasantly surprised by how much I have missed it since the winter kicked in. It's funny how quickly something can become a habit. So come on Spring, get me back out there!
Monday, February 15, 2010
30 year old Maggie and week old snow.
On Saturday my family and I celebrated my 30th birthday rescheduled from my actual birthday when Dad had his surgery. He's still doing great, so we gathered at his and Linda's (my stepmom) house for some birthday fun!
A couple of things made this a really great party. First, the cake was AMAZING. Chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and Reese's Cups stuck in it. But here, take a look.
I know, right? Awesome.
The second thing that made the party great was that my brother was there! He had come into town to see Dad and it meant he was around for the birthday celebration. I only get to see him a couple times a year, so having a bonus-Bill visit was a definite silver lining to my Dad's operation. He lent his usual Bil-ness to the proceedings, as he referred to my new flip-flops (which were a birthday gift from my Aunt) as resembling a "pink muppet." Of course, he had a point.
Ok, so maybe they do like muppets. And have pom poms. But aren't they cute?
Before gorging ourselves on stroganoff and cake, we went for a walk with Dad and had some fun in the snow. Or I should say I had played around in the snow and Dad and Bill laughed at me and took pictures. And video.
Take that snow! I have conquered you!
A couple of things made this a really great party. First, the cake was AMAZING. Chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and Reese's Cups stuck in it. But here, take a look.
I know, right? Awesome.
The second thing that made the party great was that my brother was there! He had come into town to see Dad and it meant he was around for the birthday celebration. I only get to see him a couple times a year, so having a bonus-Bill visit was a definite silver lining to my Dad's operation. He lent his usual Bil-ness to the proceedings, as he referred to my new flip-flops (which were a birthday gift from my Aunt) as resembling a "pink muppet." Of course, he had a point.
Ok, so maybe they do like muppets. And have pom poms. But aren't they cute?Before gorging ourselves on stroganoff and cake, we went for a walk with Dad and had some fun in the snow. Or I should say I had played around in the snow and Dad and Bill laughed at me and took pictures. And video.
Take that snow! I have conquered you!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Atlantic City, Hey Hey Hey!
First, the most important part, a Dad update! He's doing great, is home, and no worries. Whew! But really, him being ok was the best birthday present ever. Plus, now we get a bonus visit from my brother out of the deal and he usually only comes home like twice a year. So, bright side.
Since Dad was doing so well after his surgery on Wednesday, my stepmom gave me the go-ahead to head out of town as planned for my Atlantic City birthday extravaganza! Unfortunately for me, there was also a huge blizzard coming down DC way so instead of 12 of my favorite peeps coming with me, only Chris and Kent were able to go since we had to hit the road early on Friday to beat the storm. But we were determined to make the best of it, have a great time, and outrun the oncoming storm!
The first flakes started to fall about 10 am on Friday morning, and we hit the road by 11. Luckily nothing was actually sticking to the pavement so the roads were clear. We also managed to stay ahead of the snow, and once we got out of Baltimore there was no more snow to be found! Until late in the evening when it started snowing in Atlantic City, but honestly it didn't really affect us. AC only got about 8 inches and the good thing about housed in a luxury hotel and casino? Everything you need is available without having to take a step outside.
Friday night we went to dinner at the McCormick & Schmidt's located in the hotel, where Chris arranged a little surprise for me.
He got my name and happy birthday on the menu! I felt like such a star.
Saturday was a day for relaxation. We rented a private cabana alongside the indoor pool that came with personal food and beverage service. We literally lounged all day, watching tv (the cabana comes with a flat screen), napping, drinking, reading, and just relaxing.
A shot of our private cabana with the pool in the background.
So what if I was drunk by 11:30 in the morning? I was on vacation, dammit. Stop judging me!
The snow and ice continued to pile up on the dome over the pool all day Saturday. But did we care? Nope! The pool stays a constant 82 degrees, so were nice and comfy.
And in the evening, we hit the casino! Which basically consists of me following Chris and Kent around to different slot machines and them being nice enough to let me hit the button and participate in the fun video bonuses in a lot of the games.
Since the snow wasn't that bad, the roads were clear by Sunday morning and we were able to get to the Atlantic City outlet mall and do some serious retail damage. The Kenneth Cole store was having a special sale where everything was 44% off, so yeah. I ended up getting 3 pairs of shoes. But trust me, they are AWESOME.
When we got back we hit the casino again where I gambled my *gasp* $20 away on my favorite slot machine, Goldfish. It gives you a lot of good bonuses where you get to play fun games with the cartoon fish. I know, it sounds lame, but it's actually real fun. And I ended up getting to play for over an hour with just my $20 so it was worth it.
Me playing Goldfish. Best game ever!
Oh, and there was some kind of football game going on? Maybe some kind of Bowl? That might have been Super? But seriously folks, it was Superbowl Sunday, but we were having such a good time in the casino we didn't actually watch any of the game except the last 3 minutes (which actually equated to the last 30 minutes of the game). Still, we got to the Saints take it which made me really happy.
Monday morning we had to pack up and hit the road, but Chris and Kent managed to squeeze in some more gambling time at the Goldfish slots...even if I was too lame not to put in any more money. Then it was back in the road to arrive home...just in time for the next blizzard that came Tuesday. Couldn't have planned that one better if we tried.
Coming up next: what I did over my staycation.
Since Dad was doing so well after his surgery on Wednesday, my stepmom gave me the go-ahead to head out of town as planned for my Atlantic City birthday extravaganza! Unfortunately for me, there was also a huge blizzard coming down DC way so instead of 12 of my favorite peeps coming with me, only Chris and Kent were able to go since we had to hit the road early on Friday to beat the storm. But we were determined to make the best of it, have a great time, and outrun the oncoming storm!
The first flakes started to fall about 10 am on Friday morning, and we hit the road by 11. Luckily nothing was actually sticking to the pavement so the roads were clear. We also managed to stay ahead of the snow, and once we got out of Baltimore there was no more snow to be found! Until late in the evening when it started snowing in Atlantic City, but honestly it didn't really affect us. AC only got about 8 inches and the good thing about housed in a luxury hotel and casino? Everything you need is available without having to take a step outside.
Friday night we went to dinner at the McCormick & Schmidt's located in the hotel, where Chris arranged a little surprise for me.
He got my name and happy birthday on the menu! I felt like such a star.Saturday was a day for relaxation. We rented a private cabana alongside the indoor pool that came with personal food and beverage service. We literally lounged all day, watching tv (the cabana comes with a flat screen), napping, drinking, reading, and just relaxing.
A shot of our private cabana with the pool in the background.
So what if I was drunk by 11:30 in the morning? I was on vacation, dammit. Stop judging me!
The snow and ice continued to pile up on the dome over the pool all day Saturday. But did we care? Nope! The pool stays a constant 82 degrees, so were nice and comfy.And in the evening, we hit the casino! Which basically consists of me following Chris and Kent around to different slot machines and them being nice enough to let me hit the button and participate in the fun video bonuses in a lot of the games.
Since the snow wasn't that bad, the roads were clear by Sunday morning and we were able to get to the Atlantic City outlet mall and do some serious retail damage. The Kenneth Cole store was having a special sale where everything was 44% off, so yeah. I ended up getting 3 pairs of shoes. But trust me, they are AWESOME.
When we got back we hit the casino again where I gambled my *gasp* $20 away on my favorite slot machine, Goldfish. It gives you a lot of good bonuses where you get to play fun games with the cartoon fish. I know, it sounds lame, but it's actually real fun. And I ended up getting to play for over an hour with just my $20 so it was worth it.
Me playing Goldfish. Best game ever!Oh, and there was some kind of football game going on? Maybe some kind of Bowl? That might have been Super? But seriously folks, it was Superbowl Sunday, but we were having such a good time in the casino we didn't actually watch any of the game except the last 3 minutes (which actually equated to the last 30 minutes of the game). Still, we got to the Saints take it which made me really happy.
Monday morning we had to pack up and hit the road, but Chris and Kent managed to squeeze in some more gambling time at the Goldfish slots...even if I was too lame not to put in any more money. Then it was back in the road to arrive home...just in time for the next blizzard that came Tuesday. Couldn't have planned that one better if we tried.
Coming up next: what I did over my staycation.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Going out with a bang.
Tonight is the last night of my 20s. The last 5 hours of my 20s actually. Here is what I had planned for tonight: relaxing after a rough start to the week by sitting on the couch, watching the premiere of Lost, and blogging and waxing poetic about transitions and entering into the next phase of my life blah blah blah.
Instead I'm spending it trying not to worry myself into a stressball. See, my Dad is having some major surgery tomorrow or the day after. Surprise! And happy birthday!
Obviously I'm not expecting anything to go wrong, but Dad is having a major procedure and nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, so I'm scared, nervous, worried, feeling helpless, etc. etc. The sad part is that it's all really familiar. Almost two years ago to the day I was in the exact same boat when my Mom had her heart attack. I can't believe I have to go through the same shit all over again.
But I suppose it means that I kind of know what to expect in terms of the emotional toll and the things I can do to help the other members of my family. For example, I'm planning on hanging out at the hospital with my Stepmom and Dad tomorrow, and I know exactly what I should bring with me, things I can bring to them, and how I can try to cheer them up. That's looking on the bright side, right?
So I'm waving goodbye to my 20s, ushering in the 30s, and hoping that when my family does get around to my now-rescheduled birthday dinner we'll have more to celebrate than just my birthday. We'll be celebrating my Dad's full recovery!
Instead I'm spending it trying not to worry myself into a stressball. See, my Dad is having some major surgery tomorrow or the day after. Surprise! And happy birthday!
Obviously I'm not expecting anything to go wrong, but Dad is having a major procedure and nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, so I'm scared, nervous, worried, feeling helpless, etc. etc. The sad part is that it's all really familiar. Almost two years ago to the day I was in the exact same boat when my Mom had her heart attack. I can't believe I have to go through the same shit all over again.
But I suppose it means that I kind of know what to expect in terms of the emotional toll and the things I can do to help the other members of my family. For example, I'm planning on hanging out at the hospital with my Stepmom and Dad tomorrow, and I know exactly what I should bring with me, things I can bring to them, and how I can try to cheer them up. That's looking on the bright side, right?
So I'm waving goodbye to my 20s, ushering in the 30s, and hoping that when my family does get around to my now-rescheduled birthday dinner we'll have more to celebrate than just my birthday. We'll be celebrating my Dad's full recovery!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
More Snow
Seriously, winter? You're going to do this to me a second time? Here I was, with another perfectly planned action-packed weekend, and you gotta go and shit (or snow) all over it. Today I was supposed to see Rockapella, rescheduled from the snowstorm last month, but no. I was also supposed to make it up to Silver Spring for a game night with a bunch of friends from work, but no.
I made an effort. I went out around 11 and set out for a pre-concert lunch. But I knew I was in trouble when my car couldn't even make it up the little rise in my parking lot and I had to reverse out to the other exit. Apparently, Corollas weren't meant for snow driving. Who knew? And then I realized that nothing had been plowed. Even though we had notice of the pending storm for days in advance and it had been snowing for a solid 4 hours, NO PLOWS. So my street, and even King Street, were a complete and total mess. It didn't seem to deter a lot of the people who were driving around (the fools) but after slipping and sliding for a couple miles, I called it a day. I love Rockapella, but I'm not going to risk life and limb to hear the Carmen Sandiego theme.
And so I found myself stuck at home again. It's not all bad; I got some baking done, watched a ton of television, read some books (including revisiting some of my old Baby-Sitter Club books), but when you live alone being snowed in means you are alone all day. Which also means I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I bet the neighbors think I am insane. Of course, they probably thought that already.
Tomorrow I am scheduled to go to brunch with the law school ladies, have an afternoon of girliness including nail painting, and then meetup with the D&D folks. As far as I am concerned, I am going to brunch tomorrow even if I have to walk my ass across the highway to Shirlington, because nothing stands in the way of Maggie birthday celebrating! Since I'm hitting Atlantic City all next weekend, this is the only time I'll have to celebrate with these friends, and it is happening. Plus, Carlyle has this AMAZING chocolate flourless waffle and it will be mine.
Mark my words.
I made an effort. I went out around 11 and set out for a pre-concert lunch. But I knew I was in trouble when my car couldn't even make it up the little rise in my parking lot and I had to reverse out to the other exit. Apparently, Corollas weren't meant for snow driving. Who knew? And then I realized that nothing had been plowed. Even though we had notice of the pending storm for days in advance and it had been snowing for a solid 4 hours, NO PLOWS. So my street, and even King Street, were a complete and total mess. It didn't seem to deter a lot of the people who were driving around (the fools) but after slipping and sliding for a couple miles, I called it a day. I love Rockapella, but I'm not going to risk life and limb to hear the Carmen Sandiego theme.
And so I found myself stuck at home again. It's not all bad; I got some baking done, watched a ton of television, read some books (including revisiting some of my old Baby-Sitter Club books), but when you live alone being snowed in means you are alone all day. Which also means I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I bet the neighbors think I am insane. Of course, they probably thought that already.
Tomorrow I am scheduled to go to brunch with the law school ladies, have an afternoon of girliness including nail painting, and then meetup with the D&D folks. As far as I am concerned, I am going to brunch tomorrow even if I have to walk my ass across the highway to Shirlington, because nothing stands in the way of Maggie birthday celebrating! Since I'm hitting Atlantic City all next weekend, this is the only time I'll have to celebrate with these friends, and it is happening. Plus, Carlyle has this AMAZING chocolate flourless waffle and it will be mine.
Mark my words.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Not even just a little bit country.
I'm not a country music fan. I like bluegrass, and I like the Dixie Chicks (they're more pop anyway, right?), but when it comes to twangy country rock where people sing about the man/girl/tractor that done them wrong, I'm out.
So I was a bit nervous about heading to Nick's Nightclub in Alexandria for a night full of country line dancing. Yeah, you heard me right there. Country. Line. Dancing.
Sidenote: I don't even like regular line dancing. No electric slide, no chicken dance, no Cupid shuffle. I enjoy just dancing on my own, and am convinced line dancing is for white people who can't dance and need instruction. If that's you then I hope you have a great time, but it's just not my thing. End sidenote.
Last year, I met a group of friends through Carly who call themselves, "Team Awesome" and get together for fun outings out. The most recent adventure was country line dancing. I agreed to go because a whole pack of people I know and like were going, but I wasn't too sure about the whole thing. But then! I went to Nick's Nightclub's website and lo and behold....they have karaoke! Suddenly, the evening seemed full of possibility.
We got there a bit early and got some drinks at the bar ("do you want some drinks? GOD YES.") and then settled in to a lovely corner booth. The bar offers country line dancing lessons for $5, but I decided to pass. I would rather just sit there and judge everyone else who is brave enough to try something new. From what I could see it looked like my friends did very well, but after the 45 minute lesson was over and the band started playing...none of them actually did any country line dancing. Let's just say that there were a lot of people in that bar who were clearly regulars and knew what they were doing. I'm not sure they would appreciate a bunch of bumblers out there crowding up their dance floor. And since it's a country bar, they probably all had guns under their ten gallon hats.
The good news is there was a back bar with the karaoke and another dance floor where they played some regular music (after yes, some country). We kind of scoped out a spot on the floor and had a grand ole (opry) time. My first karaoke selection for the evening was Alone by Heart , but after three hours of singing and dancing, it was time to call it at a night. I was still waiting for my second song, but the DJ was kind enough to move my last song to the top of the queue, and I sang right to my friends the touching ballad of My Life Would Suck Without You by Kelly Clarkson. Which is true. It would actually suck without them.
All in all, a good time was had. However, the DJ, while nice, was a little questionable. Observe the following exchange:
Me: Can you play "Forever" by Chris Brown next?
DJ: What song? "Forever??"
Me: Yeah, by Chris Brown.
DJ: Is that a song people will dance to if I play it?
Me: Umm.....yeah. (unspoken "duh")
DJ: If I have it, I'll play it.
"If I have it?" And I don't think she even knew who Chris Brown is. You know you're in a country music bar when...
So I was a bit nervous about heading to Nick's Nightclub in Alexandria for a night full of country line dancing. Yeah, you heard me right there. Country. Line. Dancing.
Sidenote: I don't even like regular line dancing. No electric slide, no chicken dance, no Cupid shuffle. I enjoy just dancing on my own, and am convinced line dancing is for white people who can't dance and need instruction. If that's you then I hope you have a great time, but it's just not my thing. End sidenote.
Last year, I met a group of friends through Carly who call themselves, "Team Awesome" and get together for fun outings out. The most recent adventure was country line dancing. I agreed to go because a whole pack of people I know and like were going, but I wasn't too sure about the whole thing. But then! I went to Nick's Nightclub's website and lo and behold....they have karaoke! Suddenly, the evening seemed full of possibility.
We got there a bit early and got some drinks at the bar ("do you want some drinks? GOD YES.") and then settled in to a lovely corner booth. The bar offers country line dancing lessons for $5, but I decided to pass. I would rather just sit there and judge everyone else who is brave enough to try something new. From what I could see it looked like my friends did very well, but after the 45 minute lesson was over and the band started playing...none of them actually did any country line dancing. Let's just say that there were a lot of people in that bar who were clearly regulars and knew what they were doing. I'm not sure they would appreciate a bunch of bumblers out there crowding up their dance floor. And since it's a country bar, they probably all had guns under their ten gallon hats.
The good news is there was a back bar with the karaoke and another dance floor where they played some regular music (after yes, some country). We kind of scoped out a spot on the floor and had a grand ole (opry) time. My first karaoke selection for the evening was Alone by Heart , but after three hours of singing and dancing, it was time to call it at a night. I was still waiting for my second song, but the DJ was kind enough to move my last song to the top of the queue, and I sang right to my friends the touching ballad of My Life Would Suck Without You by Kelly Clarkson. Which is true. It would actually suck without them.
All in all, a good time was had. However, the DJ, while nice, was a little questionable. Observe the following exchange:
Me: Can you play "Forever" by Chris Brown next?
DJ: What song? "Forever??"
Me: Yeah, by Chris Brown.
DJ: Is that a song people will dance to if I play it?
Me: Umm.....yeah. (unspoken "duh")
DJ: If I have it, I'll play it.
"If I have it?" And I don't think she even knew who Chris Brown is. You know you're in a country music bar when...
Monday, January 25, 2010
Nintendo goes BOOM.
Guess what I did last Friday night?
That's right, bitches! I played some classic NES (that's Nintendo Entertainment System for all you not true nerds out there) and rocked it out. Well, rocked it out until Super Mario Brothers 3, World Three, Level Two when me and my friend Jason repeatedly died about 20 times. For all of you SMB3 fans out there, that's the water world and the level with Big Bertha. She's the giant fish that jumps up and eats your ass. While it's kind of pathetic to only make it that far, in my defense, it's been about 15 years since I played. And Big Bertha was always hard.
Finally I got so fed up with the repetitive dying that I kind of jerked the controller too hard. And that kind of caused the entire game system to fall off the tv stand and onto the floor. That might have caused the whole machine to go kaplooey and stop working. Jason claims that I "broke the Ninendo," but I don't really think that's possible. I mean, imagine the years and teenagers that thing has survived. I can't believe that within 30 minutes of being in my possession it would explode. Right?
Right?
Oh, god, I hope I didn't break it. I still have so much Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt to play!
That's right, bitches! I played some classic NES (that's Nintendo Entertainment System for all you not true nerds out there) and rocked it out. Well, rocked it out until Super Mario Brothers 3, World Three, Level Two when me and my friend Jason repeatedly died about 20 times. For all of you SMB3 fans out there, that's the water world and the level with Big Bertha. She's the giant fish that jumps up and eats your ass. While it's kind of pathetic to only make it that far, in my defense, it's been about 15 years since I played. And Big Bertha was always hard.
Finally I got so fed up with the repetitive dying that I kind of jerked the controller too hard. And that kind of caused the entire game system to fall off the tv stand and onto the floor. That might have caused the whole machine to go kaplooey and stop working. Jason claims that I "broke the Ninendo," but I don't really think that's possible. I mean, imagine the years and teenagers that thing has survived. I can't believe that within 30 minutes of being in my possession it would explode. Right?
Right?
Oh, god, I hope I didn't break it. I still have so much Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt to play!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Burn, baby, burn!
A wise woman once said, "Fire bad. Tree pretty."
Last Friday just the opposite was true. I headed out to a friend of a friend's house in Arlington for a bonfire featuring last year's Christmas trees.
Now I don't know what you may have heard, but yes, I do enjoy a good fire, and yes, I do take great delight in building up, stoking, and maintaining such fires, but that is not call for referring to someone as a pyromaniac. People these days throw around terms like that with suck reckless abandon, when they really have no idea what such things even mean. Just because a person really loves fire doesn't make them a pyromaniac. And that's all I'll say about that.
Seriously though folks, I do like a good fire. And this fellow Todd had a very nice set-up in his backyard with a large firepit, many good hunks of wood, and several Christmas trees. And trust me when I say that those suckers went up like the dried out husks that they were. We would throw on one of those puppies and then immediately retreat because the fire would surge upwards and anyone standing within 10 feet could end up sans eyebrows.
While the fire was wicked awesome, having the fire department show up wasn't. Oh, didn't I mention? Yeah, the fire department showed up. Apparently some concerned citizen called them, not to make a formal complaint, but just to make sure that they were "aware" of the backyard bonfire. Narks. Anyhoodle, the firemen showed up, stood around, noticed that we looked like a group of responsible adults (good thing they didn't know about the 5 gin and tonics I had downed earlier) and hit the road. But not before ordering us not to burn anymore Christmas trees. Which actually makes them a bunch of Debbie downers.
but there was still a good fire going, lots of new people to meet and chat with, and gin and tonics aplenty. All in all, a successful night!
Last Friday just the opposite was true. I headed out to a friend of a friend's house in Arlington for a bonfire featuring last year's Christmas trees.
Now I don't know what you may have heard, but yes, I do enjoy a good fire, and yes, I do take great delight in building up, stoking, and maintaining such fires, but that is not call for referring to someone as a pyromaniac. People these days throw around terms like that with suck reckless abandon, when they really have no idea what such things even mean. Just because a person really loves fire doesn't make them a pyromaniac. And that's all I'll say about that.
Seriously though folks, I do like a good fire. And this fellow Todd had a very nice set-up in his backyard with a large firepit, many good hunks of wood, and several Christmas trees. And trust me when I say that those suckers went up like the dried out husks that they were. We would throw on one of those puppies and then immediately retreat because the fire would surge upwards and anyone standing within 10 feet could end up sans eyebrows.
While the fire was wicked awesome, having the fire department show up wasn't. Oh, didn't I mention? Yeah, the fire department showed up. Apparently some concerned citizen called them, not to make a formal complaint, but just to make sure that they were "aware" of the backyard bonfire. Narks. Anyhoodle, the firemen showed up, stood around, noticed that we looked like a group of responsible adults (good thing they didn't know about the 5 gin and tonics I had downed earlier) and hit the road. But not before ordering us not to burn anymore Christmas trees. Which actually makes them a bunch of Debbie downers.
but there was still a good fire going, lots of new people to meet and chat with, and gin and tonics aplenty. All in all, a successful night!
Friday, January 08, 2010
Thoughts of Life and Loss
Here's the thing about life. Nothing is ever easy. If you want something, life is going to make you fight for it. You're going to have to swear, scream, spit, and scratch all the way to what you want. And sometimes, you never even get it. So why bother fighting? Because that's the whole point. The fight is what makes us who we are. It's what develops strength, character, creativity, ingenuity, all those things that make us wonderfully human. Of course, sometimes the fight is what makes us all grotesquely rotten people, but that's also the point. In life there are winners and losers. And being a winner doesn't mean you necessarily get what you were fighting for, but it means you learn the lesson and move on. The losers never learn.
Is any of this remotely comforting when you don't get that thing you want? Hell, no. If someone you love is suffering crushing disappointment and you try to reassure them with thoughts of, "but this ordeal will make you a better person, so chin up!" you'll probably get punched in the face. And you would deserve it. But hopefully someday your loved one will look back on that time of heartache, pain, and loss and know that they emerged better and stronger for having endured it.
Someday can seem awfully far away when you or the people you love are hurting. But sometimes someday is all we have to cling to. Until then, you just keep fighting.
Is any of this remotely comforting when you don't get that thing you want? Hell, no. If someone you love is suffering crushing disappointment and you try to reassure them with thoughts of, "but this ordeal will make you a better person, so chin up!" you'll probably get punched in the face. And you would deserve it. But hopefully someday your loved one will look back on that time of heartache, pain, and loss and know that they emerged better and stronger for having endured it.
Someday can seem awfully far away when you or the people you love are hurting. But sometimes someday is all we have to cling to. Until then, you just keep fighting.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Three Christmases
Ah, the plight of the divorced child. The holidays mean hustle and bustle for everyone, but if you come from a so-called "broken family," it tends to be even crazier. In fact, I had a total of three Christmases this year, which while awesome, is also a heck of a lot of work.
Christmas #1 was actually on Christmas Eve. This evening is traditionally spent with my Dad, Grandmother, et al. opening gifts. However, as my brother and his wife would not be in town until actual Christmas Day, we decided to put off until the day after Christmas our gift opening. But since my stepsister and her husband were unavailable the day after Christmas, we opened gifts with Scott and Marin on Christmas Eve over at Grandma's.
Confused yet?
Christmas #2 was Christmas Day. This day is always spent with my mother and brother, and this year Bill and Amanda got into town towards the late afternoon. So Mom and I hung out, watched White Christmas and got my house ready to host Christmas during the day. And tried to stay away from all the cookies I had made, but dear God, it was hard. Activate will-power now!
Bill and Amanda ended up arriving safe and sound along with their dog, Sir Issac Newton, and we spent the evening visiting, opening presents, and cooking dinner. On the menu was home-made pizza with ingredients from Trader Joe's (what? We're Jewish and Amanda was a vegetarian so I was not making a huge Christmas ham or roast or anything). It was my first time hosting Christmas, or really any major holiday occasion, and I think overall it went off without a hitch. As they say, proper planning prevents poor performance, and I had been busting my butt for over a month to make sure everything was done way in advance.
Christmas #3 was back to Grandma's for our traditional Christmas Eve activities that were this time held on the day after Christmas. We had a full house with my Uncle, Aunt, and cousin who were down from New Jersey, plus our usual crew. I like to say that the Riley family Christmas is something of an orgy of consumption, since we always have so much food and so many presents that it's kind of ridiculous. But with 10 people, you need a lot, right? I guess we are just good old-fashioned Americans who believe that more is more. Especially when it comes to hugging. And laughing.
After Christmas I managed to avoid the post-holiday depression by taking the week off from work (which was AWESOME) and trying to cram in as much quality time with my brother and other family as possible. Of course, all good things must end, and early New Years day he and Amanda packed up the car and the dog and headed back to Michigan, or as I like to call it, mitten-shaped purgatory.
So here we are: a new year and the beginning of a new decade. I turn 30 in less than a month (!!!) but don't plan on letting it get me down. As long as I have the emotional maturity of an 18 year old, I'll never really age, right?
Christmas #1 was actually on Christmas Eve. This evening is traditionally spent with my Dad, Grandmother, et al. opening gifts. However, as my brother and his wife would not be in town until actual Christmas Day, we decided to put off until the day after Christmas our gift opening. But since my stepsister and her husband were unavailable the day after Christmas, we opened gifts with Scott and Marin on Christmas Eve over at Grandma's.
Confused yet?
Christmas #2 was Christmas Day. This day is always spent with my mother and brother, and this year Bill and Amanda got into town towards the late afternoon. So Mom and I hung out, watched White Christmas and got my house ready to host Christmas during the day. And tried to stay away from all the cookies I had made, but dear God, it was hard. Activate will-power now!Bill and Amanda ended up arriving safe and sound along with their dog, Sir Issac Newton, and we spent the evening visiting, opening presents, and cooking dinner. On the menu was home-made pizza with ingredients from Trader Joe's (what? We're Jewish and Amanda was a vegetarian so I was not making a huge Christmas ham or roast or anything). It was my first time hosting Christmas, or really any major holiday occasion, and I think overall it went off without a hitch. As they say, proper planning prevents poor performance, and I had been busting my butt for over a month to make sure everything was done way in advance.
Christmas #3 was back to Grandma's for our traditional Christmas Eve activities that were this time held on the day after Christmas. We had a full house with my Uncle, Aunt, and cousin who were down from New Jersey, plus our usual crew. I like to say that the Riley family Christmas is something of an orgy of consumption, since we always have so much food and so many presents that it's kind of ridiculous. But with 10 people, you need a lot, right? I guess we are just good old-fashioned Americans who believe that more is more. Especially when it comes to hugging. And laughing.
After Christmas I managed to avoid the post-holiday depression by taking the week off from work (which was AWESOME) and trying to cram in as much quality time with my brother and other family as possible. Of course, all good things must end, and early New Years day he and Amanda packed up the car and the dog and headed back to Michigan, or as I like to call it, mitten-shaped purgatory.So here we are: a new year and the beginning of a new decade. I turn 30 in less than a month (!!!) but don't plan on letting it get me down. As long as I have the emotional maturity of an 18 year old, I'll never really age, right?
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