It's Good to be Home

PR Week 3 - The Hi's and Lows of Fashion

2010-02-02T23:25:00.031-06:00

Week 3 of Project Runway brought us The Hi’s and Low’s of Fashion. This week, the designers had to design a haute couture gown. They were taken to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and shown ten garments from the Costume Institute – dresses made by fashion icons such as Christian Dior, Balenciaga, and Yves St. Laurent. Using these iconic dresses and designers for inspiration, the group were paired into teams, given $500, and challenged to design a haute couture outfit.

Then, Tim Gunn added a twist: The designers also had to create an inexpensive, ready-to-wear outfit based on one of their competitor’s high-fashion designs from that week. For $50.

I found haute couture inspiration from the 1960s, specifically Sophie Gimbel and Fernando Sarmi.

I dressed Merisel in a sheer but lovely chiffon in shades that combined both the Gimbel and Sarmi colors.
From Gimbel, I took the one-shouldered, draping effect with an emphasis on the edge in the bodice. From Sarmi, I applied the draped and slightly racy hem and the tri-color theme. The go-go boots go with the 1960s inspiration.

Because the inspirational Gimbel gown looked matronly, I definitely needed to bring it into a modern style. Hence, the more interesting bodice and shoulder draping. At the same time, Sarmi’s racy hemlines are no longer so daring, so the skirt hides a very, very mini skirt…a skirt that only a woman’s date should see.

In true haute couture style, I hand-sewed the beads to the bodice, shoulder and hip.

Competitor Becky inspired my ready-to-wear look, worn by last week’s model Annette.

I used the opening outfit from Becky’s final collection last season. I loved the color combination – probably because it’s similar to my haute couture ensemble.

However, instead of using purple silk chiffon, I created a less expensive bodice in purple knit a la a t-shirt but draped like a peasant blouse. The black leather seemed more appropriate for the A-line skirt, to which I added a sprig of Becky’s turquoise tulle. I had some left over leather and tulle, so I added the belt and matching clutch.

After the runway and judging, the models were paired backstage. Apparently, they didn’t speak to one another.

My previous PR attempts:
Week 1
Week 2

My PR competition:
Becky

PR Week 2 - The Fashion Farm

2010-01-29T20:18:00.015-06:00

[yes, posting late again]

Week 2 on Project Runway brought us The Fashion Farm. Under the premise that “she would look good, even in a potato sack,” the designers were challenged to use a potato sack to design an outfit. One little caveat: Their models got to choose the designers and would be the client!

Apparently, less than 10 minutes into the Project Runway episode, the following phone conversation occurred:
[Paulie Neutz] Hey Merisel, it’s your manager.
[Merisel] Sshh sshh, girls! It’s Paulie. Tweets, manager guy.
[Paulie] Uh, yeah. So, babe, this thing with the potato sacks. Not exactly your thing, is it?
[Merisel] Um, is it?
[Paulie] Yeah, so, you have nice, youthful skin. Remember we talked about getting a L’Oreal skin care gig—
[Merisel] I got a commercial?
[Paulie] Focus, babe. Let’s talk about the potato sacks. Don’t want to be roughed up by burlap, right?
[Merisel] Um, I guess. But what does that have to do with the potato sacks?
[Paulie] No, yeah. Babe, a potato sack is made of burlap.
[Merisel] Burlap. And…?
[Paulie] So, babe, it’s rough. It’s—
[Merisel] Sshh sshhh. What? What!? The girls are saying burlap feels worse than wearing fishnets wrapped in cheap wool! Is that true?
[Paulie] Pretty much, babe, not that I’ve ever—
[Merisel] Cheap wool, Paulie! Like I’d be some vampire’s victim in that Bonton place on HBO!
[Paulie] Yeah, babe. So, how do you feel about—
[Merisel] Sshh sshhh. What? What!? The girls are saying I have to wear the outfit to an industry party! I have to go out in public in cheap wool, Paulie! To an industry party with endlessly cool people!
[Paulie] Yeah, babe. So, you probably should—
[Merisel] OMG, I can’t be a Bonton victim at a party with cool people, Paulie! Edwards and Jacobs are supposed to fight over me and seduce me. Edwards and Jacobs, Paulie!
[Paulie] Yeah, babe. So, you’re saying—
[Merisel] I am not doing this challenge!
[Paulie] Right, babe. Good chatting with you.
[Merisel] Tweeter, Paulie.
click
ring...click
[Merisel] Burlap! Edwards and Jacobs. No, can't. Cheap wool! OMG, like a rough Bonton victim. NO!
[PR Producers] Right, so, we'll find another model.
click

The producers found a highly experienced – if a tad more curvy and less tall – model named Annette. A model who actually likes to wear burlap. Or, possibly, who wants to restart her flailing career and go to the industry party.

Meesh couldn’t find any burlap (or possibly didn’t feel like spending $$ on a yard of it). Instead, she used cheesecloth…an infinitely more evil form of fabric. A fabric that unravels if you breathe upon it, that refuses to maintain a sewn seam, and that resembles sterile bandages just a little too well. Annette actually liked it – must’ve been the reference to bandages.

In any case, Annette as the client wanted a sporty look, one that showed off her curvy figure and toned abs. She wanted the outfit to incorporate her favorite color, orange. Oh, and she kinda liked the fishnets-and-burlap idea one of the models sniggered about while they waited for the designers to show up.

So, Meesh designed a bandeau-type top in cheesecloth overlaid with mesh formerly used to contain a bunch of cherry tomatoes. The pencil skirt starts at Annette’s hips to expose her toned belly.
Instead of placing the usual sporty vertical stripes on the outside of the skirt, Meesh applied a vertical mesh panel in the front. In the back, she angled the panel to emphasize Annette’s sexily curved hips.

Annette's carrying a drawstring purse made of mesh-covered cheesecloth. The strings are beaded with orange beads, of course.

The night of the party, the following occurred:
[Merisel] Sshh sshhh. What? What!? I’m not wearing burlap so I can’t go to a party with cool people! But Edwards and Jacobs, Paulie!
[Paulie] Yeah, so, I gotta go. Tweets, babe.
click

In the models' suite before the party, an enterprising photograph caught an interesting vignette.

My previous PR attempts:
Week 1

My PR competition:
Becky

Go Take a Leap!

2010-01-22T10:14:00.003-06:00

This morning, Shadowfax finally did what I've been worried he would do...he fell a good 15-18 feet. And, of course, it wasn't intentional.

My bedroom is a loft, with a 5-inch-wide ledge atop a waist-high wall separating me from plunging to the first floor. About 2 to 2.5 feet separate the bed from the wall. Shadow has been fascinated by the ledge, cautiously stepping onto it from my bedside table. Once on the ledge, he'd wander down its length to the dresser and then leap to the bedroom floor. If I responded fast enough, he'd immediately jump off the ledge and curl up on the bed while I scolded him.

Well, he finally found out why I yelled at him. He took a flying jump from the bed onto the ledge, but his momentum carried him right over the edge! I heard a tremendous crash from below.

I took off down the stairs, expecting to see him impaled on a dragon or sprawled broken on the brick hearth -- which both rest immediately below his jumping point. He wasn't there. I couldn't tell where he'd landed, although the dragon's pewter horns had been scattered. Angel looked flabbergasted but provided no clues. I called Shadow's name several times before he darted out from beneath a chair to scurry up the stairs.

I say scurry because he kept low to the ground and the bell on his collar didn't make a sound. (Now that I think about it, perhaps the bell got damaged?) Back upstairs, I found him cowering near the bed...with his tail tucked under and his ears flat.

I checked him for injuries, but he never made a sound or twitched in pain. So I hope he simply was scared. He stayed in the same spot for a half-hour. Eventually, while I put on my make up, he jumped onto the bathroom counter like he usually does. But when I stepped away, he looked uncertain about getting down again. So I put him on the ground.

I hope Shadow learned his lesson. But I fear he'll forget and try this again.

Project Runway - Week 1 Challenge

2010-01-21T13:19:00.007-06:00

Introduction / Explanation
Last Thursday, we witnessed the beginning of a new Project Runway season. Well, at least I witnessed it! Anyway, I decided to join the design challenge...I will design a dress as part of the current week's training. I have a competitor (Becky Cochrane), who has participated in multiple Project Runway seasons, so don't be surprised if her weekly results are better with mine!

A final comment...yeah, I'm several days late in producing a dress for last week's runway. In future, I plan to post my results on Monday.

Feel free to comment / vote on each week's challenge.

Let's Get Started!
For Week 1, the designers had five minutes to grab a set of fabrics. Then they had to choose just five fabrics, and produce a dress that represented who they are as a designer. I had to shop for fabric, but tried to head to the remnants sections so I could pick from what was available, thus being the spirit of the game. The dress should represent the designer's personality and design style.

Model: Merisel*

I love evening wear, so I chose to create something a woman can wear out to the opera or a formal event. Since I'm not fond of dresses (off-the-rack dresses never seem to fit right), I designed a top and skirt, with a coordinating cape.

I love fluttery, floaty, girlie, skirts because they feel so romantic - hence the satiny skirt. The deep, rich mulberry shade is close to a formal black without being predictable or traditional.

Despite my penchant for romance, I do enjoy sexy clothing. So, I created a fitted top with a plunging back. I used a lovely brocade material with a gold, brown, and pink pattern.

The cape conveniently keeps that bare back warm and allows her partner's hand to wander discreetly (in case her boyfriend is watching). The velvet cape coordinates with the skirt, and provides a feeling of elegance and affluence.

*Merisel's new to modeling, so play nicely, little kitties!

Relocated blog

2008-06-03T09:55:00.001-05:00

So, I have a new website that includes a blog. If you're interested in reading more of my postings, please go here.

6-Week Update

2008-03-13T18:48:00.004-05:00

It's been six weeks since I started my workout training.

-12 lbs
-3% body fat
my dockers and jeans can be removed without unbuttoning them!
cardiovascular still needs work

I definitely am making progress!

Lessons Learned

2008-03-04T15:26:00.003-06:00

I just finished watching The Guardian again. And it got me to thinking about why we always have to learn a lesson at the expense of someone's death. I can immediately come up with 3-4 movies / stories in which a primary character dies so that another character (usually the protagonist) can learn a lesson / become a better person / grow a backbone / come of age / whatever.

I find this trend quite annoying -- as if our emotions and perceptions are so poor that we must be beaten over the head and forced to bear the utmost in unhappiness before we can understand that we should be better. Moreover, it isn't confined to one genre; rather, it transcends them.

Please feel free to add to this list of such tales:

The Guardian, as previously mentioned
Bridge to Terabithia
Message in a Bottle (ok, so maybe it's just that Kevin Costner has to die)
Where the Red Fern Grows (ok, so it's a dog that dies in this one)
V for Vendetta
Starship Troopers
Love Story
Lord of War
Terms of Endearment (ye gods, the guilt-tripping tear-jerker)
The Sons of Katie Elder
My Girl
The Cowboys
Little Women
Navy Seals

All of this has me wondering: What does it feel like to be the person whose sole purpose in life is to teach someone else a lesson?

Snow!

2007-12-14T09:46:00.000-06:00

Another winter has begun here in New England. A nice snowstorm got us started yesterday. I was happy to have been home all day, as the snowfall immediately built to heavy proporations and traffic was snarled for hours. I watched it on TV from the snug comfort of my favorite chair, with a cup of hot chocolate it at my side. And then I went out to play.

I made my first ever snow angel. And if you click on the title of this post, you'll get to see all of my pix.

Men Men Men Men...

2007-12-09T18:42:00.000-06:00

While at the mall today [yes, shockers! I was at the mall today...Macy's had quite nicely sent me some coupons, and I really do need a new dress for Scottie's wedding even though there is an unworn little black dress in my closet, but it is a year old, so I thought perhaps I should have a new one. Which means that I went shopping. As usual, I didn't come home with my primary objective, but I'll get to that later.]

As I was saying, I went to the Mall today. And wow! what an event! So many men. So many kinds of men: tall ones, short ones, skinny ones, fat ones. Old ones, young ones, ones that looked fantastic in jeans! [Just recalling the experience has me almost bursting into song.]

Yes, I know that men do shop. But never have I seen so many men in the mall at the same time. And carrying packages, lots and lots of large plastic and paper bags. One fellow departed Finish Line with four bags full of sporting goods, I assume. But I was more impressed by the guys sporting Limited, Talbots, and Macy's bags.

Of course, the overall winner was the unaccompanied man [in his 40s or so, with just a touch of gray at the temples] who carried a Brooks Brothers' bag out of which peeked the ubiquitous pink and white striped paper of Victoria's Secret. Now that's a man!

Such a joy to be the Mall at Christmastime. All the men men men mennnnnnnnnnnn.

Texas Accent vs the World

2007-11-08T08:30:00.000-06:00

I was chatting (online) with a client about how and when I use my Texas accent. She commented that I hadn't sounded like Texan while I was at their office. Probably because I was in work mode. The Texas accent comes out naturally when I'm with friends, or if I'm tired. Of course, I can deliberately switch it on and off, particularly as a defense mechanism against the ~~obnoxious~~ Yankee accents I encounter. Or for work, when I need to speak clearly and professionally.

Then the conversation segued to Christmas music -- because I happened to be listening to Andy Williams trilling It's a Wonderful Time of the Year. Usually, I start listening to holiday music in October each year, a habit developed during high school.

I was in chorus back then. Me and the 100 other choir students would start practicing Christmas carols almost immediately after Labor Day. And when that many people sing simultaneously, they kinda need to enunciate words in exactly the same way so they'll be understood.

Hence, the birth of my proper diction. Then, for a couple of easy courses in college, I took Public Speaking as well as Voice & Diction. And there began my work mode voice. In which I no longer express my Texan heritage. All based on my high school chorus experience.

But on contemplation, perhaps this was a deliberate ploy of the chorus teacher. Maybe she had an nefarious plot to eradicate the Texas accent. After she'd destroyed her students' ability to speak like a Texan, she planned to subtly remove the Rs from words like park and car, then insert those lost consonants into words like wash. She would punish anyone using y'all unless addressing an individual. Next, she'd slip the treacherous aks into songs so students would aks a question.

Because, of course, a Texan wielding an aks really would herald the end of the Republic.

But I'm happy to say that I've escaped her reprehensible clutches. I have learned to control the diction. I don't aks or pahk or warsh -- not even on demand.

But I can say Howdy or Good Morning, depending on my audience.

Random Comments

2007-09-10T17:40:00.000-05:00

Scientists seem to agree that the Earth is warming. Because of this, they’re concerned about the accelerated melting of glaciers and sea ice around Greenland and Antarctica. This event is causing sea levels to rise higher and higher at a faster and faster rate, with an expected rise of almost 20 feet by the end of the century. If this is so, just why are we rebuilding New Orleans?

Since Friday night, Angel has haunted the kitchen looking for the mouse that got away. She seems to have missed the part where I put it out the back door.

It’s such a dilemma, I just don’t know how I will survive making the decision. And what if I choose poorly? What if it doesn’t work out? Or –gasp– what if I have to change everything I’ve already gotten used to doing? I just don’t know which to buy: iTouch or iPhone?

I watered my plants on Saturday afternoon. Naturally, it's been raining ever since then.

It's just Terrible here

2007-08-28T12:51:00.000-05:00

But, then, you can see for yourself...this is the view from our cabana on the beach at the Marriott Ocean Club on Maui.

Senility starts at 15

2007-07-28T22:07:00.001-05:00

Angel just woke me up.

Her meow sounded strange almost close to a howl. Given that she never meows above a mew, I immediately startled out of bed. I flicked on the light expecting to see her dying or at least partially maim for her manic bouts of grooming --only to discover that my 15-year-old Persian was meowing loudly to capture my attention and approval. She had brought her latest captive and placed it at the foot of my bed.

A book cover.

The cover of a Nora Roberts romance novel, to be precise. One which she had ripped away from its bindings earlier today. Apparently, Ms. Roberts has offended Angel in some heretofore unknown fashion.

As I left the bedroom to write this post, she pursued me -- book cover in her mouth. Yes! She actually picked it up, jumped off the bed, and followed me to the other room! Then she proceeded to start the howling meows all over again. When I looked over at her just now, she dropped her prize, pawed it, then looked at me for approval.

Yes, I'm duly impressed that she has captured a dastardly book cover.

However, I'd probably be more impressed if she'd kidnapped one with a handsome prince in the picture rather than this one with pretty blue flowers.

The hunter and her prey.

A new version of Survivor

2007-07-25T18:37:00.000-05:00

Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.

I'm pretty sure that I fell into this category because I chose the "Pillage" option for the last question.

HP: 7

2007-07-21T18:35:00.001-05:00

I finished Book 7 of the Harry Potter series just now. Only took 9 straight hours. My eyes are blurry (I really need to see an optometrist!).

Here's my review, then:
-- Characters were killed off.
-- I even cried at one point.
-- Loose ends got wrapped up.
-- I knew I was right.
-- An acceptable ending.

Follow-up edit:
-- I also was right about the identity of RAB.
However, the 2nd half of that equation caught me by surprise.

What? Me, Creative?

2007-07-14T09:44:00.000-05:00

During a chat with Rhonda yesterday, I got to thinking about why I stopped writing creatively.

I have ideas constantly running through my head. And I come up with great beginnings all the time -- usually while driving to/from work or on the treadmill.

But I haven't put much effort into writing beyond that initial idea or opening paragraph. I used to feel compelled to write. And to compose anything: bad poetry, those openings that would go nowhere, commentaries. What happened to my impetus to publish? When did I stop wanting to write?

Sure, I had to write in college as a journalism major and be creative as the opinion editor for the college newspaper. And I was part of a critique group in my 20s, so I had deadlines to meet and others to answer to when I didn't do my work. The only book I've written resulted from my critique group's deadlines.

Which leads me to wonder whether I'm so lazy that I can't write unless I'm forced to do so. And if that's true, then one could conclude that I'm not really a writer at all. Not like I was before I turned 30 or so. Somewhere along the way, I became so wrapped up in career and house that I lost my creativity.

So, as a result of my chat with Rhonda, I started a new blog. One that forces me to think differently. It's a bit of stretch: I've absolutely lost my ability to write humorously. But it's gotten the creative juices shifting, if not flowing, again.

Is that Blackberry in your pocket...

2007-07-04T14:08:00.000-05:00

Last night, while waiting endlessly -- or so it seemed -- for the fireworks to get underway (for a second time) in Danvers, I downed way too much water and Dr Pepper. Big mistake when we're sitting in the parking lot of a local elementary school. In the dark. Without flashlights.

After an hour's delay in the fireworks, I desperately needed relief. So I stood in line for the port-a-can. Several people ahead of me had those glow-in-the-dark necklaces. One person had a flashlight. These items were shared with those before them. But by the time I had a chance at the door, no one in line had any form of illumination.

Yes, I came prepared for a port-a-can. I am my mother's daughter: I had a packet of baby wipes and another of facial tissue. But at the moment I stepped into the absolute darkness of that port-a-can, I mostly was grateful that I had a Blackberry in my pocket.

Beware! makers of hand-held lanterns. The hand-held mobile phone may take over your industry!

Short Shameful Confessions 3 & 4

2007-06-25T07:15:00.000-05:00

I am eating a healthy breakfast for the 10th day in a row.

Which leads to SSC #4: There is no shit under foil in my refrigerator.

A Shaving Dilemma

2007-06-18T09:51:00.000-05:00

or How to Shave in the Dark When You Don’t Have Hair

I never thought I’d complain about shaving. After all, I have the advantage of baby-fine, pale-colored hair on my legs. And those hairs are few and far between. Which means that I can go a week or more without shaving before anyone could possibly notice hair on my legs. Ergo, I don’t shave the legs any more often than that.

However, that advantage also can be a problem, as I discovered yesterday. Because Sunday was very sunny. I had chosen to catch some rays on my patio. I had shaved on Thursday. Yet, the very bright sun showed that I had missed a couple hairs on my right knee. Then, I noticed one or two down the shin. And another four or five scattered across my left leg. None of these errant hairs were beside each other or in any noticeable pattern. And since they’re baby-fine, I can’t feel them when I run a hand up my leg.

Tell me I’m wrong, but usually I just run the razor up my legs, assuming that I’m getting everything. After all, there’s soap in the way. And dim bathroom lighting in an apartment-style bathroom. Add to that my almost non-existent leg hair. E voila! now I have a very bad shaving job.

Sitting here in my sunny dining area…and I still can’t see those hairs. So, should I shave again, or just let them grow until this Thursday?

Complications

2007-05-22T19:42:00.000-05:00

Yes, serious complications that have nothing to do with wardrobe worries for my eminent vacation. Actually, it's really just one complication: Angel.

She's sneezing, snuffling, and with raw lips from having rubbed her smash-faced nose too frequently today. Yes, I intend to take her to the local vet first thing tomorrow. Unfortunately, the very close veterinary clinic (just a block away) also has some very bad reviews online. So, I gotta find some places further away.

So I'm going to worry all night about her health, and what I should do if she needs meds while I'm away.

Well, hey, maybe there's a silver lining: If I can't sleep tonight, then maybe I'll have a better chance to sleep on that long flight! Ok, so that's kinda selfish of me. But at least for a moment I stopped worrying about Angel.

Too many decisions

2007-05-21T16:49:00.000-05:00

So, this afternoon I began to organize my packing for Wednesday's departure. Since I'm the woman who takes four pair of shoes and at least six outfits for a weekend event, I find I have way too many clothes put aside for this 8-day trip.

Too much to choose!
How many shoes?
How many shirts? What if it's cold and all I have is short sleeves?
What if I bring too many long-sleeved shirts and its hot even at night?

I hate this indecision almost as much as I hate discovering, once I'm there, that I've made the wrong choices.

I might need to bring more than one suitcase!

Made for Walking

2007-05-09T07:51:00.000-05:00

While in Cincinnati last weekend, I found the perfect pair of walking shoes:

Supportive so my back and feet won't ache after hours of walking:

Airy so I won't get too hot and be tempted to go barefoot; and

Fashionable so I won't be embarrassed by Italian shoe taste.

Sunday Morning Thoughts

2007-05-06T07:09:00.000-05:00

Just some musings at seven Sunday morning as I wait for my flight back to Boston. Again, I arrived at the airport much too early to find my flight won't be for another four hours. So I'm sitting in the Delta Crown Club. (I'm probably the only visitor here who's under 50 and didn't attend the Kentucky Derby yesterday). Anyway, the following are some thoughts, in no particular order...

Dr Pepper

Two new states!
Yes, I can add two to the list of US states that I have visited. Okay, so "visit" is a tad overblown. I drove through a portion of Indiana and Kentucky to get to the Cincinnati airport. (Actually, I think this airport is in Kentucky.)

Of course, I hadn't planned to drive thru any state other than Ohio today. Except I made a small error in assuming that the Loop 275 around Cincinnati would be similar in size to Loop 610 in Houston. It's not. It's closer to Beltway 8 or Loop 1604 size. Which means, I went around the city. And in the process, passed through portions of Indiana and Kentucky.

So now my list of visited states has reached 30, plus D.C.

Sports
I watched the fastest three minutes in sports yesterday. It was quite exciting. Oh, there was a queen! (as opposed to "oh, there's a band!") Can't they sing that "My Old Kentucky Home" song any faster?

Yay! Astros!

Boo. Jazz.

Sad, old, alone
People passed through airport security and such this morning singly and in groups. At least two families with small children impeded progress for quite some time. Eventually, though, we all tramped toward the trains for the terminals.

Boarding after me was an elderly gentleman with a cane who shuffled slowly along. He hadn't completely pulled down the right pant leg over his ankle boot. I wondered if he'd expected the pant to fall on its own or hadn’t yet noticed. Or if, in his stooped and frail condition, he chose not to fix the problem. Maybe he had trouble bending over.

The train to the terminals had the usual posts for catching your balance. But the only seats were high benches at the front and back. The gentleman glanced their way. Given his shrunken stature, though, the bench topped his belt line. So, instead, he turned to a post.

As the train took off, both I and a young man behind the gentleman took a half-step toward him in case he fell. Then we self-consciously stopped and looked at each other when he grabbed a post as if it were no big deal.

Everyone exited at Terminal B—because everyone flies Delta out of Cincinnati. As a group, we all ended up on the escalator. That is, except for the older gentleman. I was saddened to note that he had lagged behind. His shuffling gait was inadequate to match the bustle of everyone else with their rolling bags, strollers and scampering children. He still hadn’t reached the start of the escalator by the time we all reached its end.

I couldn't help wondering why he was alone. Didn't he have friends or family to travel with? Someone to talk to as he waited for the flight? He didn't even have a bag with books or newspaper to while away the time. It made me very sad.

I don't want to become that person. I would rather die young that be so solitary, shuffling behind the crowd and dropping further behind with every step.

Extraordinary Wake-up Call

2007-05-03T06:40:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I'm representing my company at a tradeshow in Cincinnati. Because exhibitor set-up time is limited, I had to choose a flight that left at 7:30 am today. Which meant that I would have to be out of bed by 5 am to get to the airport in time.

Blech! I most definitely am not a morning person. So I set the alarm for 4:15 as a precaution. I assumed that, at such a disgustingly early hour, I would not be easily awakened. In fact, I was quite sure that it would take 15 to 20 minutes of news-talk radio (my alarm) to seep into the REM processes. And then I'd need plenty of time to stagger around bleary-eyed as I made I sure didn't forget those last-minute toiletry items that I would use this morning but also would need tomorrow morning in Cincinnati.

So when I startled awake at 5 minutes to 5 am...to no radio noise!...my first thought was something along the lines of Ugh, why the hell am I awake at this hour? Then I realized that I could hear a voice very very faintly but quite distinctly yelling, "Answer your phone!"

"But the phone's downstairs. And who the hell would call me at this hour anyway?" I grumbled, preparing to roll over and snuggle back below the covers.

The distant voice yelled again (just as faintly), "Answer your phone!"

At this point, it finally struck me that I should have been out of bed a half hour earlier. Not unlike a sprinter off the mark, I dashed into the bathroom. Already I was mentally re-calculating the time required to get to the airport and through security. I calmed slightly. As long as I put my makeup on in the car (in the dark) and didn't give a damn how my hair looked, I still would be able to get to the airport in a timely manner.

Luckily, I'd had a momentary flash of foresight last night. Before going to bed I had put out extra food and water for Angel. So I didn't have to worry about her this morning. Because, believe me, at this hour she's not awake to remind me.

Downstairs, all I had to do was toss my toiletries into the luggage, unplug the cell phone, then drag it all down to the car. This part went as planned. Then I noticed that my phone showed I had missed three calls. My phone rang this morning? Really?

Yes, apparently, I missed three calls between 4:50 and 4:55 am. In fact, the third call was my wake-up call. My phone's tone comes from a Monty Python skit that starts with "Answer your phone, you big bugger!" And that is what woke me up.

Which was a good thing, since the alarm clock never clicked on. As I zoomed off to the airport, my brain finally began to function. Just why hadn't the clock woken me? Ah, most likely because I had adjusted it to 4:15 but not 4:15 AM. Occasionally, I forget that I have to scroll past the PM settings to get to the AM ones on the clock. Last night was one of those times.

So, as I raced down Route 1, I figured that if the phone hadn't rung, I would have slept at least another hour, maybe longer. And most definitely missed my flight! How fortuitous! I thought. I got a wake-up call from God.

I made it to airport. Circled the parking garage for a good 10 minutes to find a parking space close to Terminal A. This terminal is probably the furthest from the Central Parking garage, which means late travellers (or those who actually worry about being late--more on this subject in another post) have to sprint to the ticketing area.

Thank goodness they have the automated tellers to check in. Because the personable check-in line was waaaaay too long. I shortly learned why that line was long: my flight had been cancelled.

Yes, my flight was cancelled!

I got up at 4:55 am for a cancelled flight. And I had to get in that long line to get new tickets and check my luggage. And I would have to wait four and a half hours for the next one to Cincinnati.

I started to curse that wake-up call. Which, being a Catholic (lapsed or not), made me feel quite guilty. (God is Good, and all that stuff.)

Then the fellow at the counter next to me asked the burning question. Why hadn't we been notified of the cancellation? The agent said, "Sir, you didn't provide us with a phone number."

I almost slammed my head against the counter upon hearing her response. I thought it was God giving me a wake-up call this morning. But it was only Delta airlines.

Short Shameful Confession 2

2007-04-12T14:10:00.000-05:00

I gave up my Texas driver's license today. And my Texas plates.

[I'm so ashamed!]

Short Shameful Confession

2007-03-23T18:34:00.000-05:00

I never mailed the tin of Walker's All Butter Shortbread...because I ate them all.

Marcia Marcia Marcia

2007-03-16T17:06:00.000-05:00

Every week, while watching Heroes -– okay, really not every week. I recorded most of the episodes because I played ball on Monday nights, and thus one weekend I caught up by watching about about 10 of them one after the other -– I get distracted by Claire the Cheerleader’s hair.

Even after all these months, I still haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly why her hair bothers me quite so much. But it certainly causes me to frown every time she appears on the screen. I end up going through a mental check list in the course of each episode in which she appears:

Bouncy? Yes, it is. But that’s not the issue.
Shiny? No, but bitch.
Color? Huh-uh. Ooh, Eric Roberts. Wow.
Longer than mine? Yes, but no.

And then...EPIPHANY! As I watched the swirling snow thicken into a full-fledged nor'easter this evening, it came to me: The Side Pony Tail!

Oh the flashbacks of this and this from my childhood.

Ack! The Cheerleader actually is Marcia! Marcia! Marcia! Stop! No, don't save her--otherwise, Jessica will spend the rest of the season swishing her long locks indignantly as she runs away.

UK Week Wrap-up

2007-03-10T13:22:00.000-06:00

I'm spending my last night in the U.K., after arriving at 5 am Monday. I spent a long travel day getting from Boston to my final destination, two days in Northamptonshire for a podiatry exhibition, two days in Croydon at the company offices, and two nights in London.

They had me booked for those last two nights in Croydon -- which does have rail acess to the City. But whoa! who wants to spend any extra time in Croydon when they could be across the Thames? So, I made my own plans for Friday and Saturday nights, and found a hotel near Kensington Palace.

I got up early this morning, and girded my loins. Er, I loaded up on the usual tourist accoutrement: camera, phone, purse and map.

I headed out to explore the area. I promptly got lost, going the wrong direction out the hotel. I managed to get to my proper location within a half-hour, though. Of course, halfway across Kensington Park or Gardens, or whatever, I realized that I'd forgotten 2 vital items. I quickly found a Dr Pepper at a local store -- because no caffeine, no happy day for me.

However, I finally purchased the other vital item about five hours later. Luckily, the delay did not cause any problems. But only just!

I was able to explore Kensington as well as the Victoria & Albert Museum. Correction: portions of these places. 'Cuz there's no way I could see all of either -- much less both -- in five hours!

At the museum, I viewed the Medieval and Renaissance exhibits with the plaster casts of so many other classical pieces. In typical Victorian style, the sections were overcrowded to the point where I had a hard time deciding where I should look first. The museum gave me a wonderful surprise: a fantastic Leighton sculpture at full size and two halls showing his "cartoons" and their resulting murals, which were part of a 1878 exhibit at the museum.

And then, there stood Harrod's. The store called to me! I managed to restrain myself and only bought a tin of shortbread. Which I intend to ship to La Grange. Sooo, those reading this might know what you're getting in the mail. That is, if you're reading this.

As is typical for me these days, I took pictures and have posted them to my Flickr site.

After more than seven hours on my feet, I gratefully flagged down a taxi. The route back took me through Nottinghill. Unfortuantely, that's the only glimpse I had of the trendy district. One day in London is not enough time!

Now it's dinner, BBC TV and posting. That is, after changing rooms since my prior locale had a problem with Internet access.

An adventurous and satisfying day all round. I'm off to bed soon...gotta catch a flight home in the morning!

A Poem for L

2007-02-23T23:00:00.000-06:00

Smo
wants to see snow,
so here we go...

For more of this show
Click here now

"Leck. Big leck."

2007-02-22T15:08:00.001-06:00

In a fantastic marriage of two wonderfully witty methods combining poor translation with dumb-ass signs...we get this.

Peeing in your pants is optional, of course.

Best served warm

2007-02-18T23:41:00.000-06:00

I will never enjoy being cold.

My townhome has warm spots but, overall, it is far chillier than I would like. I have to dress in layers to stay comfortable. God knows that mornings are best while still under the covers rather than outside them.

My place mostly faces north, which doesn’t help. Last winter I sought multiple strategies to stop the incessant cold from creeping through the windows. However, nothing really worked, and the thick curtains blocked the view.

This year, I chose to use temperature-blocking curtains, which work fairly well. And I only inserted them halfway up the windows so that I still can enjoy the scenery.

Because, despite the cold, I do like the snow. Which means that every time a snowflake threatens to fall, I catch myself nose-to-window watching for it. And this is what I know…

Sleet rarely happens. But when it does, it is boring. And it hisses.

Flurries, despite the rhyme to hurry and scurry, are neither. Instead, they’re indepenent, drifting little flakes that don’t know where they’re headed or where they came from. And flurries really are not worth watching.

But snowfall, with or without a wind, is fasacinating. It’s silent. Gentle. Peaceful. The endless variety in shapes and sizes captivates me. I can stand at the window and watch the snow for hours. Better still, I want be a part of the snowfall, to immerse myself in the silence, to share its peacefulness.

Only one little issue keeps me from doing so. Snow also is cold.

Hands at 10 and 2

2007-02-14T20:16:00.000-06:00

I spent an hour and a half this afternoon driving from the Amtrak station to my home -- a 40 mile drive.

The snow had started earlier this morning. By 12:30, when my train finally rolled into the station from New York, it had been snowing, sleeting and raining for hours. The interstate was covered in some of the nastiest slush that I've ever seen. Drivers crossing lanes -- if you could see lanes, that is -- stirred up massive amounts of dirty ice to coat windshields. I saw a lot of snowplows, except that they all were clearning the other side of the highway.

To add to my driving pleasure, the sleet turned to blurry ice that my wipers couldn't clear off fast enough, even at the highest speed and with the defroster running at full-blast. I had to lower a back window to reduce the amount of smothering heat within the car.

Travel speed ranged from 15 to 40 mph. Twice I passed small cars that clearly had lost control. One of them actually protruded into my lane. Luckily, the 18-wheeler next to me had the presence of mind to swing wide enough to allow me to avoid hitting the other car's rear-end. Thank goodness I have an all-wheel-drive vehicle; and that I'm cautious enough to control my speed (yes, one of those very rare moments!).

Those 90 minutes rank among the longest of my life. And it probably was the first time since driver's ed that I kept my hands at the 10 and 2 positions on the wheel.

I can't wait for tomorrow morning 'cuz all this precipitation is expected to freeze solid over night. Do snowplows scrape up ice as well as snow?

Thank you!

2007-02-12T21:39:00.000-06:00

I had planned to spend a few days in Houston after the pain management meeting this past weekend in New Orleans. Instead, I have to be in the Big Apple on Tuesday for a workshop. Kinda totally screwed my plans, as well as my Valentine's Day--oh. wait. I've only ever had two good February 14ths...

But that's not what's important about this posting.

Rather, I wanted to stress my very short timespan in Houston. Which was enjoyable nonetheless because of two very special people. So, a hearty

Thank You

to Rhonda and Lindsey for spiriting me away from Bush Intercontinental Airport for the night. Thanks for the company, the bed, the breakfast and the ride back to the airport.

Oh, and Smo...it was Terminal E, after all. But that's OK 'cause it has the better President's Club and was worth the walk.

Cold, Beads, Screams, Elbows, Dark

2007-02-09T20:34:00.000-06:00

I'm staying at the DoubleTree in New Orleans for a pain management meeting, and the Pygmalion Mardi Gras parade just rolled past my hotel. Impressions of the last half-hour.

Cold wind because a front is coming to town. Dammit. Thought I'd gotten away from that weather.

Floats pulled by old-fashioned tractors. Not the big fancy floats one would expect to see for a New Orleans parade. But respectable ones -- with the possible exception of the float with all the people making out. The crowd yelled 'Get a room!' as that float passed.*

Peering into the darkness down the street to figure out what goodies the next float will be giving away. Should I photograph, video or just try to grab what I can without wrestling the woman next to me who's already so loaded down with beads I'm amazed that she can even move?

Whistles. Crappy-little-plastic-barely-make-a-sound whistles! This is why I jammed an elbow into the mass of beads that was the woman next to me? Jeez, freakin' idiots.

Screams for beads and baubles from the crowd that grew larger as the parade went by. In fact, I'm convinced both the DoubleTree and Double-U** hotels had emptied of guests by the time the last horse passed our block.

Camera flashes. But no tits.

Oh, and there was a band!*** (this sentence is for Robert S)

And now I hear sirens. Definitely time to go back to my room.

So, I will post pictures once I'm home and can download to my Mac. And, if I can get it to run right, I'll post video of the struttin' High-Steppers and other drill teams that passed by. And possibly of the make-out float.

*Okay, so really it was just me yelling that. But it made for great video.
**W - what a silly glyph-name-symbol for a hotel.
**Actually there were several. But Robert has only ever commented on one.

Squeaky almost totally squeaky clean

2007-01-24T22:04:00.000-06:00

Via Rhondar through TheQuiteTalented by way of tunagirl

My fine is a mere $195.60 -- I am so very boring, yes?

What was white and glittery and now brown?

2007-01-23T09:34:00.000-06:00

"It's a wonderful white world of winter!"

Or, sorta was.

The snow started as I drove home from work yesterday. And continued through this morning as I drove to work. Nothing heavy--just lovely little snowflakes drifting down. They gave the ground, rooftops, and tree branches a sweet coating of glittering white.

But now that the sun has come up, and cars are driving in and out of the parking lot, the snow has begun to melt on the tarmac and from some of the vehicles. It's a shame really -- all that work to coat the world in a lovely shade of white, only to have it slide away into gray and brown slush.

Still Gimpy

2007-01-18T16:50:00.000-06:00

One twisted ankle -- painful
One ice bag that won't stay in place -- annoying
Half-hour hunt for Advil in the house -- exasperating
2 Pamprin eventually found in a purse pocket -- PRICELESS

6 degrees above 10

2007-01-17T20:05:00.000-06:00

As I walked out to the parking lot this evening with my classmates, I turned to speak to the one walking behind me. My foot slipped off the edge of the sidewalk, which twisted my ankle and knee in definitely opposite directions.

I stumbled. But I worked hard to stay upright. After all, I have great balance and strong legs. But since I was carrying my purse and notebook in one hand and, more important, a half-full Dr Pepper in the other, balance wasn’t all that easy. But I did try.

Bad idea. Because my other foot caught on my wide pant-leg. And I went down, dropping the notebook and spilling the precious life juice all over the cement. As I caught my breath, two thoughts came to mind (other than, “wow, don’t I look like a prize idiot!”):

1. So, like, how long does it take for a puddle of Dr Pepper to freeze anyway?
and
2. Thank God it’s 16 degrees out here.

My classmates helped me to my feet and handed me back the mournfully almost empty Dr Pepper and a rather wet notebook. We all laughed and went our separate ways. As I drove home, two thoughts came to mind (other than, “get out of my effing way, idiot!”):

1. How much Advil will I need to take to relieve the growing ache in my knee and ankle and still be able to sleep tonight?
and
2. Did the designer of downfilled parkas intend for their wearers to bounce when they tripped on sidewalks?

Holiday and Year-End Recount

2007-01-02T17:42:00.000-06:00

I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas alone…except for the company of an Angel, of course. But she wasn’t interested in me so much as the turkey and ham. Oh, and the catnip present she got for Christmas. That's my Christmas dinner in the picture.

In many ways, I was satisfied with my company – when you spend vacations and holidays by yourself, it vastly reduces the opportunity for family arguments, long drives in bad weather and having to say you really love the wallet they gave you.

On the other hand, you can’t share your enjoyment of the good weather, the tasty food or how silly the Angel looks with tinsel stuck to her rear-end.

So I took advantage of both situations: I had Christmas to myself, but entertained guests from December 26 to January 2. My niece joined me thru Friday, and a long-time friend visited from Saturday to Tuesday morning.

A Very Surprised Courtney
Since my niece had never been to this part of the country, and since she’s a teenaged girl…I took her shopping. In New York City. It went like this:

“So, how much sightseeing do you want to do while you’re here?” I asked as we walked out to the car at Logan.
“Not much,” she replied.
“Then I guess that means you don’t want to see the Statue of Liberty?”
She stopped walking. “But isn’t that in New York?”
“Yep.”

It took Courtney a while, but she finally stopped saying “No way! We’re going to New York?” At least, I think she’d stopped by the time we got on the plane the following day.

We did the usual tourist activities. Our hotel overlooked the WTC site, so we saw that immediately. We glanced at Lady Liberty from Battery Park (she's the speck in the distance) – it was much too cold to take the boat out for a closer look.

We shopped along Canal Street, where I purchased a fake Movado. We rode the subway. We visited Times Square and 42nd Street. She had to buy a t-shirt at the MTV Store. We took dozens of pictures of ourselves with the figures at Madame Toussad’s. (I need to get the rest of those shots developed.)

When we got back to Boston, I gave Courtney a whirlwind tour of the Freedom Trail before dropping her off at the airport.

All in all, it was a truly flying visit. The weather was windy and quite chilly. I look forward to her visiting again, in warmer weather so she can see more of Boston’s sites on foot.

The Goodwitch Arriveth
The day after I put Courtney on a plan to Houston, I picked up the Goodwitch arriving from Austin. The weather surprised us both…it snowed at least an inch that day.

Our first real activity was to make a snowman…using the special kit sent me by the Contis. Goodwitch and I are not very adept at creating snowmen, as you can see. It’s not that we suck, it’s that we have no clue how to make snow bind together into large spheres. Hence, the rather unimpressive result. But we did enjoy sniggering over the ways we used the kit contents. Er, we didn’t photograph all of them. And we never did really use the carrot. We swear.

On Sunday, New Year’s Eve, we chose to be literary tourists. We walked around the farm where Robert Frost once lived, and which inspired many of his poems. Luckily for us, the weather had not warmed enough to melt the snow, providing a picturesque setting. And numb toes.

It was Goodwitch’s suggestion that took us there. I hadn’t realized just how close I lived to such a lovely location. Frost’s Farm is less than an hour north of my home. I can’t wait to walk through again in the Spring and Autumn.

From Derry, New Hampshire, we headed south to Concord, Mass. to walk the paths at Walden Pond, immersing ourselves in the wilderness that inspired Henry David Thoreau.

We had been alone to contemplate Frost’s poetry. But here we encountered many others along the path. I have to admit that the Walden Project and the park’s system have done a fine job of preserving the beauty of the area. However, I agree with the Goodwitch that the number of visitors lowered our enjoyment of Thoreau’s woods. But we did get some mighty fine shots of the pond as the sun set.

Goodwitch and I toasted the New Year at midnight, drinking the champagne my boss gave me for Christmas. After sleeping late, we spent New Year’s Day shopping and enjoying some excellent steaks (if I’m allowed to compliment my cooking). For once I didn’t watch all the bowl games. It felt quite weird. Then again, there are more games to come…but I may not visit with my good friend again for months.

As it was, I was quite saddened to drop her off at Terminal C and drive home today.

It’s back to work tomorrow. Another year has passed me by.

To view the rest of my holiday pictures, click HERE.

It's a real GIVI !!

2007-01-01T20:48:00.000-06:00

Goodwitch just gave me some motorcycle bags
...said that Rhondar told her to do it.

It's a a very odd gift.

By the way, Rhondar, she says she used your credit card.

A Spoonful of Sugar

2006-12-22T20:01:00.000-06:00

it's Friday evening of a week filled with holiday fun instead of real work, prior to a long holiday weekend.

I'm watching Mary Poppins, which debuted the same year I was born and which I have never seen. I'm watching Dick van Dyke and Julie Andrews dance with penguins. And all I can ask myself is "Is that the same little girl as in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?"

Migraine or twitch?

2006-11-28T18:35:00.000-06:00

My eye has been twitching since Friday.
Twitch, wiggle, twitch.
Hours and hours of it.

My stress mechanism usually shows up in the form of a migraine. Which I could kill with a few judicious applications of Excedrin. Thereby reducing my misery to just a few several hours. And a lot of unproductive time.

But nooooo, I have the twitch instead.

Damn, I can't believe I would say this but...I sure wish I had a migraine right now.

Hold that Scream!

2006-11-19T19:17:00.000-06:00

It's a laundry evening. And homework. And TV. And all the other little things one does around the home to neaten up after a long weekend and longer week.

And since I'm genetically incapable of doing one task to completion, I end up doing all of those activities in bits and pieces. Which means I don't give my entire attention to any one in particular.

It goes like this...Take the dried items out of the dryer, usually folding as I go. Wander back to the bathroom to put the towels away. Flip through a few channels since The Replacements just ended; watch the opening scenes of Men in Black. Wander to the office and replace the Christmas CD that just finished ripping to MP3 to start the next one. Check email while I'm there. At this point I notice that the dryer door is still open, so I stroll back to the bedroom for the next load. Drop that load next to the washer and begin taking items out of the washer. And just as I'm about to toss the first sweatshirt into the dryer, I notice something still in there. Something with glowing yellow orbs.

I scream and jerk my arm back, getting a face full of wet sweatshirt. As I try to recover, something flashes past my feet, tripping me up. I stumble backward, knocking the postcards and pictures off the shelving behind me. I've dropped the sweatshirt by now, so as I again try to recover, I stumble over it...and a tail.

I end up on my knees facing a hissing Persian who happens to be trapped against the bookshelf by a picture of bluebonnets, a stuffed Astros memento and several CDs -- and whose fur is so fluffed out that a hot air balloon would stick to her.

And, finally I laugh.

Hard lipstick?!

2006-11-05T22:33:00.000-06:00

The Irish took my lipstick this afternoon. Damn them. They said it was a gel!

Correction...they said that only "hard lipstick" can go into hand luggage.

Hard lipstick? What the hell is that?

Dr Pepper -- Yeah, Baby!

2006-11-02T14:34:00.000-06:00

It's official...I'm moving to London!

As many of you know, I have gone through considerable angst since transferring to the Boston area. Not only does the local bottler not know that Caffeine Free Dr Pepper actually is a product, but also most local merchants haven't even heard of Dr Pepper -- unless they think a berry-filled version is what normal people want.

Well, having spent less than 24 hours in London, I'm ready to say that I want to live here! From the convenience store in Terminal 4 at Heathrow Airport to the one at Victoria Station to every small deli and store between the Station and Parliament and on to Buckingham Palace...I have found Dr Pepper.

Okay, so the British Dr Pepper tastes similar to the Dublin version -- a little flatter and sweeter, as if they're using real sugar like they do in Dublin, TX. And I prefer the bite of the more prevalent DP.

But- but- it's DP in quantity! Really. It's not a single row buried among swaths of Coca-Cola Zero and Berry Dr Pepper. Some delis even had multiple rows.

OMG! I'm not in London. Something must have happened during those 10 minutes I managed to snooze on the flight, and now I'm somewhere else. An alternate reality: the Michelle London.

Hmmm, I wonder if designer shoes cost less than $20 and can pack down into a credit card sized package...

No Pumpkin Talent

2006-10-30T21:02:00.000-06:00

can't carve. can't draw. can't play.doh?

Salem + Halloween = Chocolate Buzz

2006-10-30T18:56:00.000-06:00

I live too close to the home of the Witch Trials.

My exit to Peabody (go West!) is the middle of three exits leading to Salem, Massachusetts (go East!).

And I had thought that the usual Friday evening traffic is bad as folks head for the coast or north to the mountains. Well, I just discovered that Halloween traffic makes the snarled hair at my nape seem like smooth chocolate.

(Yeah, strange analogy. Sue me, I'm eating tomorrow's candy already just to recover from the last half-mile of my drive home.)

A Toast to R & L!

2006-10-24T20:40:00.000-05:00

We celebrated my best friend’s wedding over the weekend. We rather rapidly progressed from dinner to dancing, without pausing much for cake cutting or speeches. Thus, I never had the chance to say the toast that I valiantly and effortlessly struggled to write just hours before the big event. So, here it is…

I have known R since our first week of high school – many many many many years ago.

Of course, given the many many many many years that we’ve been friends, both R and I have changed. Grown up – I can’t quite say that we’ve matured. And our friendship has gone through the usual twists and turns. Which is only natural: relationships do change. They grow or stagnate. They fall apart though lack of attention or flourish with careful tending.

My friendship with R underwent a subtle shift several years ago when she first came out to me. I know she attributed the change to her being a lesbian. But that never was the root of my stepping back. Rather, it was a far more simple reason: I didn’t like her partner. And, correspondingly, I didn’t like the way her partner treated her. R wasn’t the person whom I knew she could be.

Now, I’m supposed to stand up here and say something amusing. And my dissertation thus far probably has you all wondering where I’m headed, but bear with me.

I’ve never been witty on my own. Not really. I need someone to be my foil – or for me to act as the set-up man for someone with a quick punchline. R has usually been that person. my setup man. my foil to amuse those around us, and thereby amuse ourselves. We lost that fundamental part of our relationship when we both went our separate ways several years back.

And the bummer of this marriage, of R’s fantastic relationship with L, is that she’s still not mine for setting up or for being my foil. She’s L’s now.

The good new is that L appreciates our rather offbeat sense of humor. L – that vivacious, fun-loving person at R’s side has made a huge difference in R – and therefore in my relationship with R.

R has become more affectionate. More confident. More open. And, dare I say, more amusing!

A lot of that has been L’s influence. And for that I thank L. I welcome her lovingly and officially into our little circle. But some of that has been R herself. And I’m grateful that R has become the strong woman she is today.

Soooo, a toast to R and L:

May my best friend and my new friend always be friends.

May you never be bored while in each other’s presence.

May you create together thousands of memories to smile upon in old age.

And may you grow and change, becoming more together than either of you could be apart.

Observation No. 1

2006-10-19T17:38:00.000-05:00

As I sit in the Jet Blue terminal at JFK Airport (surfing the web, of course), I noticed that there are more Apple Powerbooks that other types of computers around me. A 4 to 2 ratio, as a matter of fact.

Not trying to make a point -- just an observation.

The Soundtrack(s) of My Life

2006-10-17T20:10:00.000-05:00

I stole this from a friend of a friend:

If your life were a movie, what would be on the soundtrack?
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button

****************

of the 599 songs on my iPod, this is what came out:
Opening Credits: Blurry – Puddle of Mudd.
Waking Up: Perfect Situation – Weezer.
First Day at School: Bandstand Boogie – Barry Manilow.
Falling in Love: For My Wedding – Don Henley.
Fight Song: Best of My Love – Eagles.
Breaking Up: Tourniquet – Evanescence.
Prom: Look Away – Chicago.
Life is Good: Ain’t Got Nothin’ if You Ain’t Got Love – Michael Bolton.
Mental Breakdown: Wanna Be – Nine Days.
Driving: Finding Me – Vertical Horizon.
Flashback: Just the Way You Are – Billy Joel.
Getting Back Together: Just a Phase -- Incubus
Wedding: Losing You – Marble Jar.
Paying the Dues: If You Don’t Know Me By Now – Simply Red.
The Night Before the War: What Kind of Man Would I Be? – Chicago.
Final Battle: Hangnail – Nickelback.
Moment of Triumph: This Love – Maroon 5.
Death Scene: Your Mirror – Simply Red.
Funeral Song: Have You Ever Needed Someone? – Def Leppard
End Credits: Smoke – Ben Folds Five.

I have one playlist that I listen to the most, so I thought I'd try it:
Opening Credits: Misunderstood – Bon Jovi.
Waking Up: I Believe – Chicago.
First Day at School: Fight for all the Wrong Reasons – Nickelback.
Falling in Love: All Out of Love – Air Supply.
Fight Song: Modern Love – David Bowie.
Breaking Up: You’re All I Have – Snow Patrol.
Prom: Bells of Freedom – Bon Jovi.
Life is Good: Walk Away – Kelly Clarkson.
Mental Breakdown: From Yesterday – 30 Seconds to Mars.
Driving: Silent Running – Mike + The Mechanics.
Flashback: The Song That Goes Like This – Spamalot.
Getting Back Together: Pressure Point – The Zutons.
Wedding: Numb – Linkin Park.
Paying the Dues: Pressure – Billy Joel.
The Night Before the War: Dirty Little Secret – All-American Rejects.
Final Battle: Juke Box Hero – Foreigner.
Moment of Triumph: The Reason – Hoobastank.
Death Scene: Hate Me – Blue October.
Funeral Song: Lying From You – Linkin Park.
End Credits: This is How the Heart Breaks – Rob Thomas.

I See Color!

2006-10-13T18:57:00.000-05:00

Autumn has finally arrived. The leaves are falling. A crisp breeze is blowing.

Take a look at my photos of the foliage.

Autumnal Equinox

2006-09-23T09:37:00.000-05:00

It's the Autumnal Equinox...but no true signs of Fall just yet here on the North Shore.

Tunnel

2006-09-11T07:37:00.000-05:00

Recently heard as a Mitsubishi Endeavor barrelled down Storrow Drive in Boston...

J: "OK, so I've put you on my calendar for --"
M: "Tunnel."
J: "--that Saturday. Probably lunch. What?!"
M: "I said, 'tunnel.' "

[two minutes later]

"And she went to Utah, and really--"
"Tunnel."
"--loves it there."

[a few minutes later]

" 'nother tunnel."

Late for Work

2006-09-11T07:33:00.000-05:00

I spent a typical weekend -- shopping, doing stuff around the house, talking to friends and family. Yesterday I played softball for the first time in three years. Was thoroughly exhausted by the time I went to bed. So, of course, I overslept.

This morning, I was late to work.

And as I rushed through my morning routine, trying to get my act together and my hair under control, I realized something.

Five years ago today, I was late to work.

Upholstery reminds me of something...

2006-07-25T14:05:00.000-05:00

When first I read this post I couldn't remember exactly what that dress reminded me of, except that I think I might have worn it as a child in the 60s.

Yes, yes! I remember now -- Mom posing us kids one-by-one against a wall or the side of the car so she could capture a picture of us in our Easter clothes. It was a rare treat to have a new dress (especially as I was the youngest and generally wore everyone else's leftovers).

But I do now distinctly remember having more than one Easter dress that I downright despised.

Most of the time, my aversion developed from the itchy netting sewn into the wasteline to make the skirt fuller. However, there was one dress that I disliked for no particular reason. I'll bet that, if I were to dig through photos buried in the depths of time and space near La Grange, Texas, that I would see myself in a dress made from fabric that would have been better suited to covering a 1950s sofa rather than a 7-year-old girl.

The Spanish Inquisition couldn't have tortured me more than those Easter dresses did.

Today's Adventure

2006-07-17T18:32:00.000-05:00

Today, the local sales rep and I were supposed to travel from Salt Lake City down to Zion. Tomorrow, we were going to visit customers, and possibly Zion National Park.

That plan went with the wind. Literally.

A forest fire in the mountains along I-15 got a tad too close to the highway. So close, in fact, that the smoke almost completely obscured the mid-afternoon sunlight. Traffic had to be routed back to the north because it was much too perilous for us.

So, here I am...back in a hotel in Salt Lake City. Twiddling my thumbs. And dammit, the A/C won't get cool enough in this room. I can't believe I'm complaining about being hot after getting right in the thick of things down south!

This is what it looked like as we approached the area. That's smoke, not clouds.

Here's a western view of the area just before we slammed on the brakes due to the traffic jam caused by the highway closure.

Here's a view of the area after we turned around and things got even hotter on the east side of the mountains. It hadn't quite looked that "glowy" when we drove past just moments before.

Every day's an adventure. Can't wait for tomorrow: We're heading north.

Sippin' Cider Through a Straw

2006-07-17T11:46:00.000-05:00

This post is for the Two Weirdos.

Yeah, you know who you are...

Hot! Hot! Hot!

2006-07-17T11:26:00.000-05:00

I hear that as soon as I left Boston, the temperatures soared to Texas levels. Normally, this would annoy me. However, seeing as I'm currently in Salt Lake City, where temps have exceeded 100 the entire time that I've been here -- I'm not complaining.

In fact, I have finally managed to acquire the beginnings of a tan! I'm now sporting light brown skin instead of that pasty Boston shade. The downside: I've applied so much Vaseline Advanced Therapy Moisturizer that I practically own stock in the company.

The view from the hotel is kinda nice:

Most importantly, though, the hotel room itself exceeded my expectations. In fact, its size exceeded my entire third floor! My only regret is that I didn't get to spend enough time in the room except for sleep. Work work work kept me much too busy. Plus eating and socializing with co-workers. And training sales reps. Oh, and some serious pool-side time.

Today, we travel south. I'm sure that more pix will be forthcoming. I seriously doubt, though, that we'll find a hotel as comfy as this one.

Heading West

2006-07-11T07:50:00.000-05:00

With tunnels collapsing and temperatures soaring (it's all of 85 degrees today) here in Boston, I'm headed West for a week. Ahm a-makin' mah waay to Salt Laake City!

And, for once this year, I finally have everything completed and ready both for the exhibit booth and the sales training that follows. Which means that today, I'm a-twiddlin' mah thumbs.

Really.

I have no idea what I can do to fill my work hours today that won't also be completed before I leave. Because if I start a project but don't finish it by 5 pm, then it's incompleteness will drive me nuts the entire time I'm standing in the exhibit booth through Saturday. It'll be tapping lightly at the back of my mind while I'm explaining the intricasies of product positioning to a bunch of know-it-all sales reps on Sunday. It'll be shouting "hey, look at me!" as the local sales manager and I visit customers next week. And by the time I return, it'll be screaming out my eyeballs -- and I will have way too much piled-up work on my desk to get back to it.

So. I think I'll just play Freecell.

Just gimme a bib!

2006-07-06T12:44:00.000-05:00

For the second day in a row...I've had mexican cornbread crumbs in my bra.

At least I was alone when it happened. Gonna buy a bib this evening, I think. Rather than forgoing the other half of the platter.

At least the fajitas have kept their act together.

Thought for the Day

2006-07-05T11:25:00.000-05:00

Cornbread will be at its most ineffective when crumbled inside a woman's bra. Especially when it's the moist-full-of-cheese-and-creamed-corn style of mexican cornbread.

Homeward Bound

2006-06-14T10:15:00.000-05:00

I'm leaving on a jet plane -- in about 4 hours, heading for Houston.

I'm looking forward to shrimp tacos, hanging out with friends and family, and hot weather!

Of course, now that I'm leaving Peabody, the sun had decided to shine, once again triggering the need for A/C so that Angel doesn't die of heat stroke in her fur coat.

So typical. I'm convinced that when I return on Sunday, another cold front will blow through for yet another chilly week.

Death. Taxes…Laundry?!?

2006-06-02T19:16:00.000-05:00

The old saying about Death and Taxes being inevitable is inadequate. There’s nothing more inevitable than Dirty Laundry.

After all, Death comes knocking only once. That is, your death, at least. Outside of being a cat or a soap opera character, or falling into a vat of red Rambaldi goo, you’re only likely to die once. Sure, you can be affected by other people’s deaths, but theirs is no more inevitable than yours—in fact, you can avoid facing the demise of others simply by retreating from their reality. But your own death will unarguably stop you in your tracks. Once.

And Taxes, well they do happen more often that Death, but really only once a year. You can be prepared or not, do them yourself or pay someone else. Either way, you get to put stuff aside for 364 days to have said Taxes done on the 365th. It’s inevitable, but it shouldn’t occupy your daily thoughts.

Dirty Laundry, though, can and will interrupt your day, be it morning or night, before showering or while eating lunch. That’s because Dirty Laundry is the ultimate inevitability. It’s a surety.

It cannot be avoided and refuses to be put aside. Like Taxes, you can do it yourself or pay someone else, you can save it up for days or weeks then take care of it all at one time (gads, what a load that would be!). But it will never go away.

If you’re avoiding Dirty Laundry, you must find a place to stash that growing, smelly pile while you put off the inevitable moment of truth: You will need clean clothes eventually. You can choose to stay dirty, get arrested for vagrancy and make friends with a tattooed, equally smelly fellow named Joe-Bob. Or you can throw away the soiled clothing and buy new ones—always a favorite for shopaholics and celebrities. But within a few hours, days, weeks, you’ll just have to repeat that cycle. Making that choice over and over again: Is it dirty or clean? Do I ignore or take action?

Because Dirty Laundry is inevitable. As soon as you remove an article of clothing, you must make a decision: Is it clean or dirty? Do you put it in a hamper, toss it on the moldy pile festering in the corner, or hang it up in the closet in the hopes that that the spot on the hem will magically disappear?

[Okay, you could refuse to decide what to do, but you might tire of standing in the bathroom with a shirt and underwear gripped in your left hand and sweaty socks in your right. Eventually, you would do something—perhaps even asphyxiate from the unclean fumes. Ah, Death was inevitable, wasn’t it? But I digress…]

Dirty Laundry doesn’t occur once a year or once a lifetime: It’s today, yesterday afternoon, Christmas night. It’s sorting and stuffing the washer. It’s carrying the load to the Laundromat, garage or utility room. It’s liquid soap and dryer lint.

But most of all, Dirty Laundry is a constant. It’s not a one-time action. It’s the same decisions every day for the rest of your life, whether you pay Taxes or not, until Death takes you.

Taxes don’t occupy our time like this. Death shouldn’t. Yet Dirty Laundry does.

As such, I advocate a change to that tired old adage about death and taxes. From now on, everyone should say: It’s as sure as Dirty Laundry.

Learning to Cook

2006-05-28T19:41:00.000-05:00

I turn 42 tomorrow. I bought myself an emerald ring and a charcoal grill. And I made a vow:

I will learn to cook.

Sure, I can prepare a few basic items like homemade spaghetti sauce, sausage and potato omelets and Christmas cookies. However, I mostly survive on frozen and take-out dinners. Or chips and salsa. Or tortillas and queso. I simply have never felt the urge to create in the kitchen. (Unless chocolate and cookie dough were involved, that is.)

I’ve never grilled a steak in my life. In Houston, I had a gas grill on which I cooked the usual burgers, chicken and hot dogs. Never beef or sausage—that was always a man’s job. And so I never learned how to grill the perfect steak. It’s way past the time to rectify that omission.

But really, I want to learn to cook because I miss fresh fajitas and other good Tex-Mex food – meals that I took for granted while in Houston. In fact, I most often would forgo Mexican food in favor of Italian when I lived there. However, six months and 1,800 miles away from original Tex-Mex, I find I crave it more often than I ever have before.

Thus, if I can’t get the real thing up here, I might as well learn to prepare it. To that end, I purchased a Texas foods cookbook the last time I was in Houston. It offered recipes for both beef and chicken fajitas, for frijoles and arroz ala mexicana, blackberry cobbler and for hot German potato salad, amid lots of other tempting items. How could I possibly pass up such a book – much less not use it?

So, today I did use it. I marinated and grilled some steak for my first attempt at beef fajitas. At some future date I intend to prepare a true Tex-Mex meal for my co-workers, and I should try out the recipes first, right? I figured this weekend would be as good as any to start, beginning with the fajitas, some Mexican cornbread and rice. And lo! My neighbors caught me at the grill and invited me to join them for a grilling party at the complex’s gazebo on Monday afternoon. So, I will have guinea pigs for my first efforts.

Lucky them.

At last!

2006-05-28T15:52:00.000-05:00

I turned on the A/C yesterday afternoon for a couple of hours.

At last...warm weather!

I am...

2006-05-26T08:44:00.000-05:00

My friend Lindsey tagged me on this...

I AM occasionally creative. Easily bored. Online chatting with a co-worker in London and another in Guadalajara

I WANT shrimp tacos from Berryhill’s. More hot water. To stop planning and start doing.

I WISH it were Saturday. I weren’t addicted to TV.

I MISS hot weather. Having more living space. 3rd Saturday lunch.

I HEAR a table saw. Customer service cold-calling with my script. Phones ringing incessantly. Hoobastank ‘The Reason.’

I WONDER wonder wonder wonder, trudge trudge trudge trudge, streeking streeking.

I REGRET not splurging on fun vacations when my friends asked me to go with them.

I AM NOT slow. Patient. High-maintenance.

I DANCE whenever I hear music that makes me want to dance, wherever I happen to be.

I AM NOT ALWAYS patient. Organized. Motivated.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS dumb Christmas ornaments.

I WRITE less often than I should for myself. All the time for my job.

I CONFUSE left with right. Names and faces. Other people when I hold 3 conversations at once.

I SHOULD work on my manuscripts more diligently. Get Angel groomed. Not be afraid of biking on these hills.

I START lots of projects.

I FINISH very few of them.

I TAG Glenny , Paladin, and My Evil Twin.

Validation

2006-05-16T16:56:00.000-05:00

After posting my retraction about the rain, I noticed this column in today's Boston Globe. His commentary is spot-on. And it's amusing to read that former Bostonians have found better lives in other cities...

...because you wouldn't know that from listening to the natives up here. Oh nooooo! This is the most perfect place to live in the entire world...

mostly because here we have outrageously expensive housing, the Red Sox who won the World Series 2 seasons ago, cold weather that lasts even into May, a baseball team that finally won the big series in 2004, nasty snarling traffic through a leaking expensive tunnel, the Sox team that finally beat Babe Ruth's curse and managed to win a pennant a couple of years ago, the Kennedys who make the news for their driving habits almost as often as their politics, and lots of red-wearing baseball fans still doing the jig about a game that happened--

Er, I digress. In short, it's good to have my views validated.

Rain, rain...go away!

2006-05-16T09:47:00.000-05:00

er, um...AHEM. I have an announcement to make:

I take back everything I said about rain.
I want it to go away now.

I was inconvenienced this morning trying to find an alternate route to work. I was stuck in crawling traffic, and ended up idling on a bridge. Under which water rushed at a very alarming rate, with no discernable space between the water and the base of the bridge. All I could think was, "Undermining the supports. Undermining the supports. Move, cars, move!" I probably repeated that mantra for five minutes before traffic began to move again and I was able to proceed off the bridge.

Like every Houstonian, I'm used to this flood thing. It's just that this place has so many brooks, creeks and rivers, combined with hills to force the water to flow faster and with torturously narrow winding roads...it's already a nightmare for most traffic conditions. Flooded roads just make it worse.

So, please, gimme some sunny days.

And then a thunderstorm or two.

Singing in the rain...

2006-05-10T09:28:00.000-05:00

I’ve been in Massachusetts for six months now, and most of the precipitation has been of the frozen variety. Which, of course, has been completely foreign to me: strong wind battering against the townhouse without the accompanying pitter-patter on windows; the sand and grit embedded in every wet patch; the splat of snow flying off the car in front of me or dropping unexpectedly from overhead lines.

I expected to find the winter strange and different, and I wasn’t disappointed. However, it wasn’t until Spring arrived that I realized I had been unnerved by how silent the weather here has been.

Because I’m used to rainy weather.

Nasty downpours pounding against every hard surface. Thunder claps rattling dishes in the cupboards. Light showers gently tapping on windows. Squalls rushing through trees, spattering drops in random patterns. The swish of tires on wet pavement. The slap of sprayed puddles against the windscreen.

I haven’t heard any of those sounds for months. And I probably never would have realized how much I missed the sound of rain…until it started raining yesterday. I lay awake last night simply enjoying the wind and rain hammering against my bedroom windows. On the way to work this morning, I actually drove through puddles like we splashed through them as a child. Rain was fun again, almost new. Everyone arrived this morning grumbling about the weather -- but I just grinned.

Unfortunately, now that the really wet stuff has arrived, I find I'm holding my breath as I listen for the sound of thunder.

oh CRAP !!!

2006-05-04T13:01:00.000-05:00

My 15-inch PowerBook imploded the other night.
It's at CompUSA right now, and after only one night I'm starting to feel the loss:

While watching the Astros game, I wanted to look up Oswalt's stats...but I didn't have a computer.

Going through my mail, I discovered some bills to pay...but I didn't have a computer.

Birthday card in hand, I wanted to look up the mailing address...but I didn't have a computer.

Having a computer is ingrained in my psyche now. Which means...I'm going to buy a 2nd computer!

Holy Chitty Hand Grenades, Tim!

2006-04-30T19:51:00.000-05:00

While watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang this evening, I noticed that the bad guy king of Bulgaria carries around a replica of the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. So, it made me wonder...why did he never blow his enemies to tiny bits?

Come to think of it, the Prime Minister has a remarkable resemblance to Tim the Sorcerer. I'm thinking we could come up with some dialogue from this movie to fit with scenes in Holy Grail -- if anyone cares, that is.

One more curiosity just for the Queen of Sparrows: If the King has the Holy Hand Grenade AND he's the captain of VulgAir Zeppelins, does he also have holy water ready at the exit?

Closing Sooner Than Expected

2006-04-28T07:32:00.000-05:00

I'm relinquishing Castle Meesh a tad sooner than I expected!

The buyer has some kind of out-of-country emergency, and must close on the house now rather than May 15. I received a panicked call from the title company Thursday morning wanting to get my payoff info and apparently they didn't have enough of my personal data to get it. I had a minor meltdown, while the title person and I discussed whether April 28 really was a proper closing date or if May 15 was. We both hung up confused. However, a few hours later my realtor confirmed the change of plans.

Soooo, today I expect to receive and sign papers via email, FedEx or fax -- whatever floats their boats. I know that I'll be faxing and FedExing 'em back. Good thing a co-worker is a notary public!

And then I'll be renting Castle Meesh through May 15, at which point I hand over the keys and cut off the utilities. And it's all theirs!

Meesh Version-06

2006-04-17T07:26:00.000-05:00

My friend Glenda tagged me with this idea the other day. I'm not usually one to compare what I have now with what I used to have -- it's too depressing if things are bad and only briefly uplifting if the comparison is favorable. (It's just as well that I don't live by enumerated goals.)

However, after thinking it over, I had a small epiphany...

One Year Ago
I was selling medcarts and computing systems to hospitals, and had added Kansas to my already over-large territory. I was worn-out, dispirited and seeking another job.

Five Years Ago
I was in my stride at S&S, working as both a marketing and sales manager for the different product lines. It was fun, challenging and rewarding. And I just described my current job--same title, even.

Ten Years Ago
In April, I was taking my first steps toward buying my first house, which I purchased in November. I was debt-free and thoroughly enjoying-hating my job at Intermedics because it was challenging and incredibly stressful and massively fun. Today, I'm just weeks away from selling that house.

So, I've come full circle on the house, and I'm still doing the same type of job as before, except for the hiatus into direct sales. I would say that I'm in a rut, except that my current job is even more ambitious for me.

Which brings me to the epiphany. I'm enhanced: Meesh Version-06, displaying greater mobility and a more balanced approach to sales/marketing and to emotional upheaval. The only drawback to this updated version is that the Evil Twin anomaly is still embedded in the program.

Going, Going, Almost Gone...

2006-04-12T21:46:00.000-05:00

Castle Meesh is almost ready to be re-named.

The buyer had the house inspected, and the inspector came up with lots of issues. So, the buyer asked for $6,000 to go toward repairs -- that's in addition to the $4,500 he wants toward closing costs. I suggested $3,000.

Today, he agreed to my counter-offer, but apparently the funds actually are going to his realtor (a bonus) instead. I signed more paperwork and faxed it back.

Now, my realtor will find out if they want to buy my refrigerator and washer-dryer. Actually, they can HAVE that dryer: it's crap.

Here's hoping that the next steps go just as smoothly...

Worm eatin' sonavagun

2006-04-10T18:44:00.000-05:00

Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me.

I'm gonna eat some worms!

Big, fat, juicy ones and

Long, skinny, slimy ones...

I'm gonna eat some worms!

First you chop their heads off,

Then you squeeze their guts out--

Ooh, how they wiggle and squirm!

Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me.

I'm gonna eat some worms!

I came home singing this song. It's been one of those days.

Stampede at Gate 12, Manchester

2006-04-07T18:28:00.000-05:00

MANCHESTER, NH – Travelers at Manchester Airport witnessed two human stampedes Thursday morning. A few minor injuries were reported, but airport officials state that no flights were missed.

The first stampede occurred at 8:12 a.m. Witnesses said that the passengers waiting for Southwest Airlines Flight 815 at Gate 15 suddenly made a break for Gate 12 en masse.

“It was the most amazing sight,” said Wanda Burns, who had been queued up at Gate 13. “I heard this loud roaring noise, like at the racetrack – where, by the way, I recently won $212. Anyway, I looked up and saw this huge crowd rushing toward me.”

Burns added that she maintained her position in line despite the danger. “I’m in the C group, so I shut my eyes and stood my ground. Otherwise, I might have been stuck in a really bad seat.”

Other witnesses agreed that the Southwest Airlines passengers rushing to Gate 12 resembled a stampede. “They all had this blind look in their eyes,” one witness said. “Like it was the most important thing in the world to get to the other gate. I ducked and covered, and nearly got bowled over by a family of four.”

In a statement released shortly after the incident, Southwest Airlines said that the change to Gate 12 was a result of mechanical problems with the plane at Gate 15. “We have an excellent on-time record and did not want to sacrifice that reputation or our one for passenger safety,” the statement concluded. “Thus, the local Southwest managers decided to move the passengers to a plane already prepared at Gate 12.”

The statement also said that the original mechanical failure was satisfactorily repaired just minutes after the initial gate change. At 8:16 a.m., Southwest staff announced that Flight 815 would be leaving from Gate 15 as originally planned.

“That’s when the second stampede happened,” said a Manchester Airport official who didn’t wish to be named. “Unfortunately, it occurred just when another flight was deplaning. And a few people were injured in the melee. It wasn’t pretty – all those people scrambling to be first in the A, B and C queues.”

The anonymous employee reported that three children and one octogenarian sustained injuries from the second stampede. No official report has been released as yet.

Of the 168 passengers on Flight 815, only one did not participate in the stampede. A woman who called herself Meesh said that she had been sitting at the back of the B queue when the first announcement occurred.

“We had been delayed so long that I had booted up my laptop,” Meesh said. “When everyone around me ran for the other gate, I knew that I couldn’t pack up in time and still get a good position in line. So I didn’t bother trying.”

Meesh added that she had just finished stowing her computer when the Southwest staff announced the return to Gate 15.

“I was still there, so I ended up being the first person in the B queue.”

She smiled. “Life is good.”

3 Pointless Statements

2006-04-05T08:14:00.000-05:00

The pilot light blew out yesterday.

It's snowing today.

I'll be in Palm Springs tomorrow.

Jinxes and Hitches

2006-03-30T16:05:00.000-06:00

Despite the eternal jokes and superstitions about jinxing a ballplayer by talking about something negative he hasn't done or screwing up a test by saying that I know all there is to know on the subject, I'm pretty sure that I don't believe in hexes or jinxes or murphy's law.

With that said, I'd like to make a bold proclamation: I just received an offer on Castle Meesh! A fantastically good one! I signed the papers and returned them to the realtor this afternoon.

Now the fun begins...

Such as, the inspections and discussions about which fixtures stay (like the refrigerator). And just how much in the way of repairs / servicing will the buyer expect. And, really, deciding how much of those expectations would I want to meet. Oh God, and figuring out how to move my stuff to storage by May 15.

Soooo, did I just jinx the offer by posting about it? Or do I already think the offer is too good to be true, and thus the offer was already jinxed and my posting or not posting would have made no difference? Or will the sale go through without a hitch?

If I leave here tomorrow...

2006-03-25T19:12:00.000-06:00

I have always liked Lynyrd Skynyrd. However, I have always despised their hit "Freebird". Mainly because every guy who learned the guitar -- or thought he had learned guitar -- insisted on playing the song ad nauseum. With no real skill, most of the time.

However, I just watched the movie "Elizabethtown". And a single scene in the movie has brought that beloved song up from the depths of my contempt and stomach distress. It may even have wiped out all the torture of hearing "Freebird" mis-played.

Oh yeah...tomorrow, I might even rip it to my iTunes.

Dare I say it? Hooray for Hollywood! NAH! I'll wait until they redeem "Stairway to Heaven"!

Scrapin’ Failure Off My Boots

2006-03-08T08:25:00.000-06:00

I have failed – both spectacularly with witnesses galore and by hidden means that not even a therapist would hear about. And I have succeeded in similar ways. The successes raised my spirits and brought honor to my family, if only for the short while that anyone remembered them.

The failures, on the other hand….Ah, the failures. They have haunted me with each step I took. The fear of failure grasped my elbow, and whispered defeating thoughts in my ears at each challenge that I accepted or rejected.

The whispers reminded me how I failed Algebra in 9th grade, resulting in horror from parents who always assured me that I was smart. I had to deal with the never-ending inquisition over how I could possibly have failed something; after all, I was a straight-A student. I also was, quite embarrassingly, discharged from the Honor Society. And had to face the indignity of re-taking the course as a sophomore with the other “layabouts and dumb students.”

The whispers reminded me that I never could pass Algebra in college, leading to my eventual discharge without a degree – something I failed to acknowledge for a very long time.

The whispers reminded me that I suck at reading school books. I never read a class book unless I was desperate for a better grade. And I never was desperate because the grade I made always was good enough for me, even if it wasn’t as high as that of my smarter friends. After all, I’d failed Algebra and been demoted to regular English after my sophomore year. The whispers said that I’d already proved that I wasn’t on my friends’ level academically anyway. Thus, I no longer had to be that straight-A student.

And because I didn’t have to be a top-mark person any more, I stopped being one. Right through college, definitely through my first job where I came in late on a regular basis and preferred to play solitaire rather than write articles. And BANG! It all became reality when the interviewer for my next job pointed out that I was barely good enough for the position since I didn’t have a college degree and the writing samples from my first job weren’t of the best quality.

Oh yeah, the whispers like to remind me of that salutary moment.

I spent eight years at that company trying to prove that I could be the quality person they expected me to be. Ignoring the whispers as often as possible, working my butt off. And then the buy-out happened, and the layoffs came. I had the opportunity to work for a larger firm in Minneapolis or with a lot of my current co-workers who moved to the L.A. area.

But I didn’t take on those challenges because I was listening to the negative voice that said I would fail if I stepped out of my safe little zone. Surely, it whispered, there’s a company in Houston that’s just good enough. Because I certainly didn’t need to find some place better.

So I found a safe job that challenged me just enough but not too much. And there I stayed for five years, while my friends moved on to cooler job opportunities and while my former co-workers found amazing success at the companies that I’d turned down in Minneapolis and L.A.

And I envied their ability to take the job risk, to move out of a safe zone.

For a long time, I let that negative voice direct me. It had taught me to hide my failures to the point where everyone just assumed I was successful, even when I knew I wasn’t.

However, somewhere along the way, I found my career niche and learned that failures weren’t such a bad thing. After all, my problems with credit card debt or with not making a deadline at work seemed a tad insignificant while the company was five months behind on product deliveries or showed a steady decline in sales. The company, and its owner, were failing a lot more spectacularly than I ever had, and with more dire consequences to far more people that just me and my embarrassed family!

I started to wonder if I were the only person walking around with a special safety zone, which insulated me from the major failures lurking outside and kept my little failures hidden inside. The realization came to me slowly, but eventually I caught on: The safety insulation that kept risks at bay also filtered out the good stuff.

Sure, I had bought a house and been out of debt for years and my boss thought I walked on water a lot of the time. Good stuff! But instead of relishing those triumphs, I focused on the things that I hadn’t done right and on the things that still needed to be done but that I couldn’t do because I was afraid of making mistakes.

I was so busy avoiding failure that I also avoided true success.

Now THAT is embarrassing. So I finally took a risk…I accepted a job as a sales representative. Right from the start I knew that my personality wasn’t suited for closing sales (cheerleading / marketing, yes! but not pushing people to buy); however, I tackled the task. I even hired a sales coach to help me out in the early stages. I got the hang of the job; in fact, I made some small, steady progress. However, in the company’s eyes and in my own, I FAILED.

Whoohoo, I really failed. And the best part is that there’s no little negative whisper saying “I told you so” because I took this risk in full acknowledgement that I could fail. And that it would be okay with me if I did.

Because, really, in my books I will count that job as a success, a spectacular triumph. Not for my performance, but for taking the risk in accepting the job in the first place.

So, now I’m on to bigger and more exciting risks. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ve already done the whole failure bit and stomped its mouth shut beneath my snow-covered boots. I’m searching for success now.

BLIZZARD WARNING !

2006-02-11T17:25:00.000-06:00

It's a real Nor'easter, comin' our way. "Get to the stores and stock up!" everyone said.

So, I did:

I hope these are enough to get me through the storm!

Cleaning Up

2006-01-24T08:03:00.000-06:00

Overheard at Castle Meesh on Sunday, January 22:

“Oh, sure, leave this job for your hetero-friend!”

“What? You don’t want to feel-up the mermaid’s breasts while cleaning her?”

“Not exactly. Just where are Rhonda and Lindsey when you need them, anyway?”

At least it's a WET cold

2006-01-15T19:40:00.000-06:00

I never thought I would see the Weather Channel site for my zip code show such
low numbers.

After Houston-style weather for the past week (that is, temperatures in the
fifties), today's high was somewhat of a disappointment: It was just above freezing
and occurred right after midnight. The heater for my townhouse has run non-stop
in a vain attempt to stave off the dropping temperature outside. At least the
snow decided to stop falling much earlier today. The ground looks like the top
of a bundt cake with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. Amazingly, the humidity is above 30%.

However, having made a run to the store earlier, I fully appreciate the weather
advisory regarding potential frost bite because of the wind. And I now understand
why my friend Rhonda kept reminding me that it gets COLD up here.

So, what do I do? I fail to take my mom's advice while outside: I didn't have
a hat, left the gloves in the car, and didn't zip up my parka. I hate admitting
that Mom was right. But I can't admit that Rhonda was right-- because I haven't
yet regretted making the move North...

...other than having to deal with the other drivers and the accents, that is.

Lessons Learned from My First Blizzard

2006-01-09T10:51:00.000-06:00

After having 8 inches of snow dumped on my car by a December blizzard,
it will take at least 30 minutes for the car's interior to be comfortably
warm. It's usually a 20-minute drive home.

Even with the car coated in snow, my Texas plates will still be visible.
But the other drivers tailgate anyway. (There's a RANT brewing on that topic.)

I should park the car in the garage, despite the 8 inches of snow covering
it. My garage is not warm enough for all of that snow to melt and destroy
the boxes of unpacked stuff. Because if I don't put it in the garage, then my
driveway never gets plowed. And within a couple of days, that nice,
forgiving snow becomes hard ice! Sure, the car doesn't mind driving over
it, but...

I can't walk on ice.

If the 8 inches of snow haven't melted away after leaving the car out in
the sun for several hours, sweep said snow off the top! Because if I drive
with slushy snow on top of my vehicle, it will come down onto the windshield
as soon as I brake. Visibility = none.

Best lesson of all: Yes, my gas-guzzling, all-wheel-drive SUV can
make it up that icy hill. So take that, you aluminum-plastic-paper-recycling-with
over-priced-homes-and-no-understanding-of-right-of-way Bostonites. (I definitely feel a rant coming on.)

Wicked?

2006-01-04T17:24:00.000-06:00

No, not the book. And not the more recent Broadway show.

I mean the "wicked" that modifes every noun, pronoun, adjective and unnecessary adverb uttered by those around me. I actually heard "wicked cool" at the mall yesterday. For a moment, I thought it was a SNL show. Or that I'd gone back to high school, and next I'd hear "major" and "oh my gawd".

But then I remembered that I now live in Massachusetts. Ah, yes. It all makes sense.

It's always wicked in Boston. Whatever "it" may be.