Oh, what a beautiful morning…
We had a great weekend. Busy. I was up early both days, 6 o’clock on Sunday. It’s my ritual to cook at least one big breakfast over the weekend, and I’ve mastered Matt’s ham and cheese omelette. The more he's around me, the earlier he emerges from the bedroom. I say, “Why waste life in bed?” and he agrees. Plus, we’re preparing ourselves.
Matt worked yesterday then called and asked if I wanted to visit the grounds of the art museum and soak up sun...my favorite spot! He even packed a picnic. Last night we saw Agatha Christie's The Unexpected Guest at IRT. I love introducing him to my haunts.
Matt saved a little mouse in our basement gym yesterday! My hero. He thought about bringing it home for a pet. : )
This will be a very short week then we’re off to vacation in sunny Florida. We’re visiting my sister/niece/mom in Naples for 2 days then staying at a swanky hotel on the bay, no family allowed. I adore swanky hotels; it’s just this thing with me. I love pretending I’m Eloise (the little girl who lived at the Plaza in NYC) for a few days.
Generally, I hate Florida. I hate the prickly vegetation and the high percentage of morons who live there. Hate the mentality. Hate Corvettes. So many gold chain necklaces, so little time. I loved visiting my sister those 11 years she lived on South Beach, but I never wanted to live there. It’s the perfect place for her, being an artist. She painted many hotels and restaurants on the strip in SOBE, and now Napleites pay exorbitant amounts to have murals painted on their children’s bedroom walls. Amazing.
My mom has an alligator living in her lake: I mean, that’s just weird. It’s so hot in the summer that you have “shine face” no matter how much M*A*C powder you pack, and towels never dry without the fluff cycle. Give me California (and give it to me soon!!).
Matt went to Florida once as a kid, but doesn’t remember it. He’ll like Naples and 5th Avenue…me in bikini. : ) He asked, “Can I surf?” I said, “Sure, baby, if you want to get nibbled by a shark.” No surfing! Just the ocean, books and tiny little drink umbrellas. We’re already riding our own wave…it's a long one.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Impulse Shopping No More
Tantamount to the Tragically Hip ever breaking up (shudder the thought), my favorite Broad Ripple boutique, Turandot, is closing. Pronounced exactly how it looks (people who say "Tur-an-doh" bring chalk screeching across my ears - it's an Italian opera, folks), it is where I've purchased at least 37 necklaces, 12 rings, 72 candles and every wedding or birthday gift I've handed out in 15 years.
Where will I spend my money now?
I actually have an answer for that. Stay tuned.
Where will I spend my money now?
I actually have an answer for that. Stay tuned.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Le poulet est pourries...
Oh, God.
The first truly gorgeous weekend and I was sick for most of it. Ate some undercooked chicken on Thursday night (that I, um, undercooked) and by 4:00 a.m. I was visiting the bathroom pretty regularly with stomach poisoning. No work Friday, never got out of bed except for violent vomitting, and Matt waited on me hand and foot all weekend.
He kept trying to feed me, went out and bought me the strawberry/banana smoothies I love. After I had one, unfortunately, I sat up...and it came back up...on my sweatpants...which were really Matt's sweatpants. I took them off and told Matt I was heading back to bed. He eyed the pants and said, "Do we have any long tongs?" He kicked them all the way to the laundry room, and when he got there I heard him yell, "Hey - these are my sweats!"
Proof that I can still laugh with martian death flu.
Saturday I felt a little less pitiful and we took a walk on the Monon, then headed to my dad's for a barbeque...chicken! "Please God No!" I said, so they made me something more pleasing. That's about as high maintenance as I get.
Matt said, "Your dad is so philosophical...I could talk to him for hours." My dad gives such great insight on relationships, love, children, marriage. He's a sage with a huge heart, and I adore him.
The quads are getting ready to drive and they're applying for JOBS! The boys have steady girlfriends who hang out at the house all the time. Where did the time go, my babies?!
Tonight, Matt and I are heaing to Bella Vita for dinner, no poultry. We are living life in the slow lane, and it feels good.
The first truly gorgeous weekend and I was sick for most of it. Ate some undercooked chicken on Thursday night (that I, um, undercooked) and by 4:00 a.m. I was visiting the bathroom pretty regularly with stomach poisoning. No work Friday, never got out of bed except for violent vomitting, and Matt waited on me hand and foot all weekend.
He kept trying to feed me, went out and bought me the strawberry/banana smoothies I love. After I had one, unfortunately, I sat up...and it came back up...on my sweatpants...which were really Matt's sweatpants. I took them off and told Matt I was heading back to bed. He eyed the pants and said, "Do we have any long tongs?" He kicked them all the way to the laundry room, and when he got there I heard him yell, "Hey - these are my sweats!"
Proof that I can still laugh with martian death flu.
Saturday I felt a little less pitiful and we took a walk on the Monon, then headed to my dad's for a barbeque...chicken! "Please God No!" I said, so they made me something more pleasing. That's about as high maintenance as I get.
Matt said, "Your dad is so philosophical...I could talk to him for hours." My dad gives such great insight on relationships, love, children, marriage. He's a sage with a huge heart, and I adore him.
The quads are getting ready to drive and they're applying for JOBS! The boys have steady girlfriends who hang out at the house all the time. Where did the time go, my babies?!
Tonight, Matt and I are heaing to Bella Vita for dinner, no poultry. We are living life in the slow lane, and it feels good.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Triscadecaphobia
Happy Triscadecaphobia Day!
Triscadecaphobia is the fear of the number 13. Many believe Friday the 13th is an especially unlucky day.
In Ancient Rome, the citizens dedicated the 6th day of the week to their beautiful Goddess Venus. Eventually this day evolved into Friday, and was considered to be the luckiest day of the week.
Muslims claim Friday as the day Allah created Adam, legend has it that Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit on a Friday, and later died on a Friday.
Christians consider Friday as the day on which Christ was crucified by the Romans. The Last Supper was Jesus said goodbye to his apostles before being crucified. How many were at the table? 14, including Judas.
Next up was Friday, October 13, 1307. The Pope of the church in Rome in Conjunction with the King of France, carried out a secret death warrant Against "the Knights Templar". The Templars were terminated as heretics, never again to hold the power that they had held for so long. There Grand Master, Jacques DeMolay, was arrested and before he was killed, was tortured and crucified.
The Scandinavians believe that the number 13 signified bad luck came from their mythological 12 demigods, who were joined by a 13th demigod, Loki, an evil cruel one, who brought upon humans great misfortune.
Please proceed with caution.
Triscadecaphobia is the fear of the number 13. Many believe Friday the 13th is an especially unlucky day.
In Ancient Rome, the citizens dedicated the 6th day of the week to their beautiful Goddess Venus. Eventually this day evolved into Friday, and was considered to be the luckiest day of the week.
Muslims claim Friday as the day Allah created Adam, legend has it that Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit on a Friday, and later died on a Friday.
Christians consider Friday as the day on which Christ was crucified by the Romans. The Last Supper was Jesus said goodbye to his apostles before being crucified. How many were at the table? 14, including Judas.
Next up was Friday, October 13, 1307. The Pope of the church in Rome in Conjunction with the King of France, carried out a secret death warrant Against "the Knights Templar". The Templars were terminated as heretics, never again to hold the power that they had held for so long. There Grand Master, Jacques DeMolay, was arrested and before he was killed, was tortured and crucified.
The Scandinavians believe that the number 13 signified bad luck came from their mythological 12 demigods, who were joined by a 13th demigod, Loki, an evil cruel one, who brought upon humans great misfortune.
Please proceed with caution.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Farewell Vonnegut
If I write one more article or press release, design one more newsletter or direct mail piece, write one more grant or change one more detail on our website, I'll scream. I cannot wait for our vacation, belly and all. My favorite thing Matt says: You win in every category. My other favorite thing: I think it's sexy. : )
Why can't I stay home and write a book? Why must bills exist?
Kurt Vonnegut died today. Kevin and I saw him speak a few years back. Old and sharp and wry, just the way I like my authors. We'll miss him.
Why can't I stay home and write a book? Why must bills exist?
Kurt Vonnegut died today. Kevin and I saw him speak a few years back. Old and sharp and wry, just the way I like my authors. We'll miss him.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Treadin' Trodden Trails for a Long, Long Time
Friday, we had dinner with my bestest guy friend Eric and his new keeper girlfriend Stephanie (a la Sandra Bullock, only prettier) at Oakley’s. Matt and I arrived early (being prompt is my mantra) and received free situational comedy as we witnessed a room divider fall on two customers. I live for moments like those. It fell once, and they put it back up. The second time it fell in the opposite direction and landed on a lady’s head just as she tasted her gourmet mushroom soup. She exclaimed, “Ouch!” and I laughed, because I’m a horrible person, but she wasn’t hurt, so there. Matt said, “This place is a litigator’s dream!”
Eric is more organized than I could dream of being, and he’s not even a Virgo. One of the most sought-after production managers in the country, he’s befriended many bands over the years (and, thanks to him, so have I!). He and Stephanie already booked flights to Palm Beach to hang out with the Dave Matthews Band in September. I thought Matt and I were on top of our flights in May!
Digression: I met Dave Matthews backstage once. I planned the whole thing. I wore my college boyfriend’s Virginia t-shirt, and Dave came up to me and said, “I’m from Charlottesville!” I said, “Really?” (This was my trick, to play it off, be cool, not tell him I spent every other weekend there for five years.) He then said, and I quote, “I have to kiss this girl for wearing this shirt.” There were about 4 people standing around, including Eric, who just looked at me and laughed. I closed my eyes and puckered up, I guess, and felt Dave’s lips gently plant one on my cheek.
(Oh well, a Dave Matthews kiss on the cheek was fine, given that I’m not really a fan, anyway. I was much more excited when Peter Gabriel said hello and bowed to me in the backstage hallway!)
Return: Saturday Matt and I searched for places to live…and I think we’ve found one. The coolest part about it: a screened-in porch with a fire place in the middle of the backyard. It’s for sale or rent….hmm, decisions, decisions. Matt kind of wants to rent in case we move, but my savings is burning a hole in my bank account. I’ve never bought a house, and I keep throwing money into the “someday” account. In the back of my mind, I’ve always saved it for my escape to the South of France, it’s just that now I have a guy I’d take with me. Nice is so nice.
Sunday, I woke up extra early to place the Easter basket Matt's "bunny" left for him in a hot spot. I heard Matt stirring, so I quickly plopped it on the bathroom floor. Matt got up, walked in there, and said, “Honey, the Easter Bunny visited the bathroom!”
We visited my grandmother yesterday, who has a crush on Matt. He said the feeling is mutual—he is amazed by her sharpness and wit. They renewed their memberships in the Mutual Admiration Society, then Matt and I headed home to cook our Easter ham. Not a good day to be a pig, eh?
My sister did a last minute trip to Walgreen's for some extra loot for Eva. Problem was, she took Eva with her. Although it was a clandestine mission, Eva opened her stuff and said, "Mommy, the Easter Bunny shops at Walgreen's too!"
Eric is more organized than I could dream of being, and he’s not even a Virgo. One of the most sought-after production managers in the country, he’s befriended many bands over the years (and, thanks to him, so have I!). He and Stephanie already booked flights to Palm Beach to hang out with the Dave Matthews Band in September. I thought Matt and I were on top of our flights in May!
Digression: I met Dave Matthews backstage once. I planned the whole thing. I wore my college boyfriend’s Virginia t-shirt, and Dave came up to me and said, “I’m from Charlottesville!” I said, “Really?” (This was my trick, to play it off, be cool, not tell him I spent every other weekend there for five years.) He then said, and I quote, “I have to kiss this girl for wearing this shirt.” There were about 4 people standing around, including Eric, who just looked at me and laughed. I closed my eyes and puckered up, I guess, and felt Dave’s lips gently plant one on my cheek.
(Oh well, a Dave Matthews kiss on the cheek was fine, given that I’m not really a fan, anyway. I was much more excited when Peter Gabriel said hello and bowed to me in the backstage hallway!)
Return: Saturday Matt and I searched for places to live…and I think we’ve found one. The coolest part about it: a screened-in porch with a fire place in the middle of the backyard. It’s for sale or rent….hmm, decisions, decisions. Matt kind of wants to rent in case we move, but my savings is burning a hole in my bank account. I’ve never bought a house, and I keep throwing money into the “someday” account. In the back of my mind, I’ve always saved it for my escape to the South of France, it’s just that now I have a guy I’d take with me. Nice is so nice.
Sunday, I woke up extra early to place the Easter basket Matt's "bunny" left for him in a hot spot. I heard Matt stirring, so I quickly plopped it on the bathroom floor. Matt got up, walked in there, and said, “Honey, the Easter Bunny visited the bathroom!”
We visited my grandmother yesterday, who has a crush on Matt. He said the feeling is mutual—he is amazed by her sharpness and wit. They renewed their memberships in the Mutual Admiration Society, then Matt and I headed home to cook our Easter ham. Not a good day to be a pig, eh?
My sister did a last minute trip to Walgreen's for some extra loot for Eva. Problem was, she took Eva with her. Although it was a clandestine mission, Eva opened her stuff and said, "Mommy, the Easter Bunny shops at Walgreen's too!"
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
This Planet Earth
Today it is raining; I am pensive and solemn. We’ve watched “Planet Earth” on the Discovery Channel for the past two nights, and I haven’t been able to sleep due to worry about polar bears. This is my curse and my blessing of being hypersensitive, especially to animals.
Sure, I have data and answers about greenhouse gases, and a truly honest Republican administration (wait, did you catch the sarcasm there?) that says, “Who…us?”, yet I am flummoxed by how human beings, myself included, can ultimately care so little and do so little for the survival of these magnificent animals.
Bears have always been my favorite animals to watch. I prefer Kodiaks, but today I’m turning it over to the polar bears that are suffering, starving and drowning by the hundreds. Not that I wouldn’t protect you too, little seals, but you are the sustenance of the Arctic’s bellwethers, and there are plenty of you to go around.
I’ve been looking for ways to adopt a polar bear today, to no avail. I did find a website that allowed me to adopt Manfred, the Kodiak from Legends of the Fall, but I want a polar bear for a pet.
Last night, after watching a young polar bear surrender to the precarious ice, I told Matt we should help collect them and put them all in zoos. I know, shudder the thought, but at least they’d be alive. At least I could relieve this guilty conscience.
By the time my children, or maybe their children, are grown there will be no polar bears. Makes me want to ride a bike to work, but I would look silly, and where would I keep my bike all day, and what about rain storms, and what about days I wore skirts and, oh, someone else will take care of it.
Sure, I have data and answers about greenhouse gases, and a truly honest Republican administration (wait, did you catch the sarcasm there?) that says, “Who…us?”, yet I am flummoxed by how human beings, myself included, can ultimately care so little and do so little for the survival of these magnificent animals.
Bears have always been my favorite animals to watch. I prefer Kodiaks, but today I’m turning it over to the polar bears that are suffering, starving and drowning by the hundreds. Not that I wouldn’t protect you too, little seals, but you are the sustenance of the Arctic’s bellwethers, and there are plenty of you to go around.
I’ve been looking for ways to adopt a polar bear today, to no avail. I did find a website that allowed me to adopt Manfred, the Kodiak from Legends of the Fall, but I want a polar bear for a pet.
Last night, after watching a young polar bear surrender to the precarious ice, I told Matt we should help collect them and put them all in zoos. I know, shudder the thought, but at least they’d be alive. At least I could relieve this guilty conscience.
By the time my children, or maybe their children, are grown there will be no polar bears. Makes me want to ride a bike to work, but I would look silly, and where would I keep my bike all day, and what about rain storms, and what about days I wore skirts and, oh, someone else will take care of it.
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