Saturday, August 26, 2006

I feel better

Today I didn't work. We had a golf outing instead. Good times. I suck at golf. Got home, took a nap. Jen came over and gave me a pep talk. I do need goals. I do not need goals that stress me out. I have a lot of exciting things coming up and I think I just need to focus on that.

On the thankful side, I met some grad school gals last night for sushi. Let's just say that I am thankful that I am not working all hours of the day. Life/work balance is a good thing.

Hmm. . . Other updates. I realized that I don't have much to complain about. When I really think about it, my life is pretty friggin great. I think I just need to make sure that my prescriptions are filled regularly and that I strive continuously toward creating life possibilities for myself.

Who wants to get rip roaring drunk tomorrow night? I do!

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Missing: soul

Maybe I am just suffering from a long lasting case of the I-feel-shitties or something but this perpetual fog doesn't seem to be lifting. I was noticing during my run today that I appear to not really give a crap about music anymore. Yes, that means no new play lists that "perfectly" describe my point of view and no new false claims that the artist really is speaking to me. In fact, I am even feeling un-fulfilled at work and play. Let's put this in a more succinct statement:

I am fucking bored. I don't feel like caring about anything.

I think I need a new goal or something. . .

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

illegal blogging

I am blogging from the nurses station at the hospital. Jean says hi.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

catch up

So, the house is near completion. By all standards, this weekend was pretty dull and full of house work. We cleaned, painted and planted. Things are coming along though. I love the cottage.

Last night I saw Em for the first time since I have been back. It was really good and things in her life are going really well so that is always fun. One by one my friends are landing in good places. It is like watching popcorn pop! After I got home we hung up some pictures and then I went to bed.

Today I am working then going home to host some gals from the play for dinner before a little dvd pre-screening. Good times!

The party is in 4 days! Woo hoo!

ps. no news on the knee. Still haven't had the MRI yet. It doesn't hurt as badly anymore though! ;)

Friday, August 18, 2006

corporate training classes that do not apply to me

Water Systems: Contemporary Technology and Compliance.

If that doesn't interest you how about you try:

Sterilization Training for Life Science Professionals or How to Monitor Clinical Trials for GCP Compliance.

I live in a sexy world.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

oh gee, I blew out my knee

Here is the t.v. version supplied by Lucy:

I was skating when a man with a ski mask attacked me with a crow bar. . . And then I of course yank the crow bar out the masked man’s grip and let him cower under my intimidating presence until the FBI came and whisked him away, giving me credit for the capture of their #1 most wanted.

The truth is somewhat less glamourous. I was running on a treadmill over lunch when my knee started burning and sending shooting pain up my leg. So I got off.

I go back later this week for an MRI, until then I am not supposed to walk on it. They think I either sprained it or tore some cartilage. Both seem pretty silly since I WASN'T DOING ANYTHING. No falls, no twists and no crowbars.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

weekend in review

Installation of stove revealed a bag of pot wedged between the range and dishwasher. My frustration with Best Buy was slightly decreased when they gave me a discount on the refrigerator because of a super duper teeny weeny dent on the side. I think God said no to the deck this weekend when he sent the torrential rains on Sunday. God did say yes to the nap instead.

Last week I declared that we would:

Paint 3 rooms-- check
Strip the fireplace-- mission aborted. Seeking alternative option
Put in a deck-The heavens opened instead
Stain the deck
Tile the mudroom- One more trip to Menards is needed!

Not great, not bad. We did get all the appliances to stop leaking though. That's a win right?

Friday, August 11, 2006

picking scabs

So with my hands covered in stripping acid, I say this . . . Don't strip if you aren't sure what is under the paint.

Our fire place has thick, shiny red paint over its bricks. Why?

Because it was covering the white paint? Why?

Because it was covering the sea foam green paint? Why?

I can't get deep enough to figure it out. . .

Thursday, August 10, 2006

the money pit

All through my trip to France, I dreamt, fantasized, and built plans for all the house projects that were going to happen. So needless to say, I had done the typical, anal planning for which I am famous. So after months of anticipation, my schedule has finally cleared up enough to actually take some action! Since we are having a little party, or should I say PART-YAY, in a couple of weeks I thought it would be a good catalyst to get these house projects done.

Needless to say, I never seem to do anything in moderation. Ever.

So in the past week we have (drumroll please)

Put in a pond
Re-leveled our yard
Planted 4 trees- including one transplant that isn't looking so hot
Built 3 retaining walls
Marked off the area for a deck
Planted 50 plants
Stained the footbridge
Retiled the kitchen
Purchased new appliances
Purchased a camera to document the madness
Received one pedicure. Just me though, Barry wasn't interested.

This weekend we will:
Paint 3 rooms
Strip the fireplace
Put in a deck
Stain the deck
Tile the mudroom

A party or PART-YAY doesn't seem to be good enough reason to dump this much time and money into our house, but I am reminded of the big move in 05. When we put our house on the market we were faced with the dozens of projects that were required to get our house in suitable selling shape. I often asked myself during that time why the hell we didn't just do it right away so that we could enjoy living there.

So that is really the story. Do all this shit now with a self imposed deadline so that we can live there for a few years without having all these stupid house projects on the brain.

Lessons learned so far. Get your neighbor involved whenever possible; they know so much more that I do. Don't go to the garden store without a chaperone; hemorraging of money ensues. Don't plan on having energy enough to do anything else; ie work.

All is well though otherwise. I will post pictures when my new camera comes in.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

76 Trombones

Or should I say. . .
76 Cast members led the big parade with a 110 volunteers next in line. . . Enjoy the photos!

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

new slipper

Yay! My office life has improved drastically! I have new slippers that keep my feet warm! They are warm and fuzzy and nice, now my feet don't feel like ice.

Monday, August 07, 2006


I think I have a problem. Is there a 12 step program for busy-bodies?

This was my first weekend without the play, and you wouldn't believe what we got done to our house. I fully threw myself into the next project.

It was a hard weekend on Barry for many reasons. I had the usual ups and downs that accompany my boredom.

Is it wrong for me to just genuinly enjoy being busy and sleep deprived?

Friday, August 04, 2006

seriously dragging today

Last night was a blast. We went to dinner with the J's and then did a little shopping. Barry picked out and purchased a pair of jeans on his own. It's a big deal in our world.

We then went to the 90's to cheer for a young friend in the amateur drag show. Great time, and Gizelle won!

I was so proud.

I didn't make it to bed until after 2 am, but I am still feeling proud today.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Anna is my girl

I heart Anna Quindlen.

I read this in Newsweek yesterday and it hit me in a big way.

August 7, 2006 issue - Somehow I wound up leading the same summer life my mother led. With school over, the household was transplanted a hundred miles away, in a place defined by weather: silver sunlight, soaking rains, calamine lotion, citronella candles, fishing tackle, raveling towels. The children were the centerpiece of the enterprise—sticky, grubby, unappreciative of an idyll engineered by others, always faintly sunburned on shoulders or nose despite the best efforts of the adults who dogged them with sunscreen. The fathers arrived on Friday night bringing the mail, their city clothes incongruous in the thick and buggy air.

My mother, who died young, missed the next act in this summer-stock production. The children grow; they come, they go. Mostly go. They have their own cars, their own plans, their own sunscreen. Faint webs grow in the corners of the barbecue grill during the week. The Bactine is past its sell-by date. No one has needed stitches for the longest time. It's so quiet here.
And that's just fine. I like solitude. I can spend days happily alone, eating Raisin Bran for dinner on the porch instead of bothering with a starch, a stove and a napkin. Eldest of five, mother of three, veteran of noisy newsrooms: is it any wonder that I like the sound of silence? It has a good beat, and you can dance to it.
Why does that sound like the kind of admission you'd make at a 12-step meeting? If you like to be by yourself, there's the assumption that you're antisocial, antifamily, a month away from becoming that old woman down the street with the weedy yard and the decrepit house, or the Unabomber. Those who choose not to marry or have children are still viewed with some suspicion; those with spouses and kids are assumed to want to be with them 24/7. People covertly embrace faux solitude, the places in which they can be alone among others: the plane, the car, the pew.

Being alone is out of fashion, or maybe it was never acceptable at all. Take a spin through any decent dictionary of quotations, and lots of the people you'd normally credit are negative about being alone. "Solitude is dangerous to reason," says Dr. Johnson. "The safeguard of mediocrity," says Emerson. Erica Jong is onto something: "Solitude," she wrote, "is un-American." No kidding. This country seems to be the official home of the big dinner, the family reunion, the party hearty. The response to solitude is set to music, with a deep, sympathetic Perry Como croon: "Oh, no! You're all by yourself?"

Yep, and liking it. The evangelists may have it that Jesus went into the desert for 40 days to fast and pray, but it's worth remembering that they were part of the increasingly large crowd that had begun to follow the guy everywhere. Maybe he just wanted to be by himself. Lack of solitude is probably why most political figures are slightly deranged. Between the aides, the staff and the Secret Service, the president is never, ever alone, and senators ricochet from meeting to charity lunch to meeting to fund-raising dinner to yet another meeting. Every once in a while, I have a day like that, and at the end of it I have not had a single coherent thought. It's like mosquitoes buzzing around your ears while you're trying to sleep. You can't dream through the din.

Modern life means living with the din: of television, of small talk, of strangers selling on the phone, of co-workers using PowerPoint to explain what could easily be drawn on the back of a cocktail napkin. The span of our collective concentration has narrowed accordingly. Over the years America has been described as beset by a variety of human ailments and conditions: right now there's no question that it's attention-deficit disorder. It's so hard to focus.
When the beds of the former children are all nicely made and their rooms quiet and still except for the buzz of a stray fly strafing the screen, I miss those summers past. But there's no question that they were exhausting. A family of five produces so many dishes. And when it rained for days, when Mr. Mustard in the library with the lead pipe had outlived his usefulness, like my mother before me I was sometimes driven to desperation. A good soaking never hurt anyone. I personally invented a game called How Many Worms Can You Find in a Puddle?

A much older friend once talked of how she resented those who dropped in on her, convinced that the fact that she lived alone must mean she was always desperate for charity company. "People can't seem to figure out the difference between alone and lonely," she said tartly as she walked me to the door. It's a simple distinction and it has to do with choice. Be forced into solitude by circumstance, and you may well be disconsolate; choose it, and you are simply, perhaps happily, alone. Lean Cuisine and "Law & Order." I can be the life of the party when necessary, but sometimes I just need to hear myself think. After all, if we can't hear ourselves thinking, is any thinking truly going on?

production photos

These are just some photos from rehearsals . I am still waiting for actual show shots, which I will put up when I get them . . . Did I mention that I loved these people? L-O-V-E.

big fat liar

ok kids, remember how I said I was going to start updating this on a regular basis? Well, clearly I was lying.

Things are good here. I think corporate America might be sucking the life out of me a little bit but other than that, things are good.

It's funny. . . the more time I spend behind a desk, the less time I feel like thinking. blech. I will post some photos from the play soon. I mean it this time.