Don't Fear the Fuzz

Spring has sprung.

2007-03-13T12:50:00.000-04:00

Thank God! It's supposed to be in the 70's this week! You'd think, with all my whining about the cold, that I live in the snowy tundra of....Erie, PA? Michigan? But no. Just Virginia. Where it averaged about 55 degrees right up until Christmas. So I suffered through about 60 days of somewhat cold -- but not Michigan cold -- temperatures before I hit my limit. What? You have no sympathy? Fine.

Along with the weather, life in general is starting to pick up. After about two straight months in town without much going on (perhaps a record for us), we've got lots of fun stuff coming up. An informal business school reunion with friends to watch the first round of the NCAA basketball tournament, my 10th year college reunion with my best girlfriends (and no husbands), visits from parents and grandparents, and.......(drum roll)......a trip to Europe in May! Perhaps not the wisest decision since my husband is in his 3rd year of grad school out of 5, meaning we're not going to see a second income anytime soon, but what the hell? If we're broaching the kids thing soon, when the hell else are we going to bum around Europe for 2 weeks? And, God bless our good friend who is getting married in London which kickstarted the whole idea. And, God bless our US Air dividend miles which are getting us to London and back from Venice for "free." You know, this is our second European wedding in under a year. Thank you, friends, for broadening our horizons and allowing us to ~~get drunk~~ celebrate your love in faraway lands.

I'm also feeling great about keeping up on the exercise front. I've been going to the gym 2-3 times a week to do some classes, lifting weights with a friend once a week, and playing soccer on the weekends with a rec team. Just had our first game Sunday.....ow. I am definitely proud that I've been treating my body better and feel marginally in shape for the first time in 2 years. Blah blah, doing it for me, blah blah, exercising ~~because my 10th year reunion is in 4 weeks~~ for all the right reasons. I've also been getting up earlier every morning to make the most of my day. You know, another whole hour to ~~read blogs~~ do work. Really, whatever my true motivations may be, I'm glad that I'm actually doing, instead of just talking about what I should be doing.

So, woo-hoo March, is all I have to say. Hopefully, I will actually have something more entertaining to say after some of these fun things have actually occurred. 'Til then, fill out your NCAA brackets and GO BLUE DEVILS (even though we're not that great this year and may lose in the first round for the first time since '96 and everyone else in the world is overjoyed because of it)!

Blech.

2007-03-05T08:35:00.000-05:00

Hey, wow. Look at that last post...that was, like, 6 weeks ago. Ahem.

Do you ever get to the point where your every day looks and feels exactly like every other day? This isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, the familiarity can be comfortable and easy. Sometimes, there's nothing better than a nice, normal day which includes waking up, doing some work, walking the dogs, doing a couple of errands, going to the gym, making dinner, hanging out with my husband when he gets home, and then vegging in front of the TV until it's time for bed. No deadlines, no appointments, no meetings, and nothing to do beyond the day's basic responsibilities.

And, then there is that stretch in late winter when everyone is hibernating, your husband is especially busy with school, and your work is not exactly thrilling when it feels more like Groundhog Day. Is this Thursday? Monday? Oh...it's Saturday? Great, thank God for the weekend. Working at home definitely contributes to this feeling. When every day pretty much consists of sitting in front of the computer in your pajamas for hours until you finally feel inspired to eat, or shower, or, I don't know, use more muscles than those in your mouse-clicking finger, it's easy to get in a rut. People, I just managed to wear out a pair of slippers that I have had for less than a year. Literally, the fuzz is worn off the inside of the slippers, perhaps because I wear them about 53 times more than any other pair of shoes I own.

Anywho, those are what my last few weeks have felt like. But, there's hope... It's starting to warm up here in the sunny South, my daffodils are beginning to bloom, I got out of the house (and the state, actually) this past weekend to have a girls weekend with my Mom. And, while shopping with her, I bought these. Surely, wearing those with my pajamas, instead of my broke-down slippers, can liven up my days, just a smidge?

Pain makes you stronger, or something

2007-01-18T15:48:00.000-05:00

Since I have declared 2007 the "year of me" (in a good way, not a narcissistic, fuck-the-rest-of-you way), I have been giving serious thought to my resolutions. I have never been much for resolutions...oh, sure, in years past I scrawled something down on a notepad like "eat healthier." Which meant, "try to work in an actual vegetable between Lean Cuisines and wine so that I can lose 10 lbs."

But, this year, for some reason, my resolve seems stronger. I feel ready to be thoughtful about what I want for myself in the coming year. Add to that the fact that there is an outside chance that I might be with child at some point in the next 12 months and, all of a sudden, actually striving for a more healthy way of living seems more important, more worthwhile. Maybe also because this year, for the first time in a decade, "eat healthier" really isn't code for "lose weight, dammit."

So, I rejoined the university gym and have been poring over the classes, looking for something that won't bore me to tears within the first 10 days (see: running, swimming, and cardio machines that are never available anyway because of all the 19 year-olds bouncing away at any given time of day). This week is "promo week," which means you can try out any and all of the fitness classes for free.

For my first, I picked some kind of cardio/circuit training combo class. I walked into that room yesterday ready to kick some ass. It did dawn on me, almost immediately, that I was at least ten years older than every other woman in the class. But, the voice inside my head said, "Screw these other girls, I'm fit. Well, at least sort of active. I mean, I walk the dogs once a day. Hell, I look a lot better in these yoga pants than I did last year. That being said, I guess I should probably take it nice and slow...I haven't really worked out in a couple of months."

That changed as soon as class started with all sorts of boot-camp-like tasks like bounding across the room like frogs, doing minutes upon minutes of squats and tricep dips and push-ups. My competitive fire ignited. I was squatting as low, if not lower, than those teenagers. I was sprinting back and forth just as fast as they were, and looking damn good doing it, may I say so. Hubris, pride, etc. etc.

Several hours after class, I was having those tell-tale twinges in all of my major muscle groups and the little voice inside my head said, "Dumbass." Fast forward to today. If I sit longer than 15 minutes, standing up sets every muscle in my legs on fire. It took my 2 minutes to crouch down and actually sit on the toilet this morning and I almost cried doing it. I just "walked" the dogs, looking like I had a pole shoved up my ass and making faces and little grunts that surely don't add to my neighborhood reputation. I can't walk up or down our stairs without propping up 75% of my body weight on the banister and even that hurts like shit.

Being 31 sucks sometimes. (But I still kicked ass yesterday.)

Ode to 2007

2007-01-11T12:27:00.000-05:00

Oh, 2007, I welcome you with open arms. For the last two years have been, in a word, shitty. I have tried hard to work through all of the sad, hurtful, and upsetting experiences of the last two years. I have begun to listen to and trust myself. I have worked on living for myself as much as I live for others, on maximizing my experiences, on honing my priorities and bettering myself.

We started with a bang - New Year's with good friends, a meager but relaxing vacation, bookended with 14-hour drives which, though tiresome, provided the opportunity to talk, dream, and plan for a different kind of year.

Here's to the good stuff to come. 2005 and 2006, you can suck it.

Holy 68 degrees, December 1

2006-12-01T10:25:00.000-05:00

Hello, you people. I may live in the south (though not the very deep south), but there is something very odd about two solid weeks of weather in the 60's and 70's in late November. Not that I'm complaining, especially since we just had all of our windows replaced this week. It would not have been very awesome to take conference calls in a parka and mittens with the wind and snow whistling around me due to the gaping holes in my house.

In other news: today, I discovered that my computer is once again allowing me to read Blogger blogs. For three weeks I have not been able to access any blogs hosted by Blogger (or, strangely, Dooce) which means I could not get to my own fucking blog. However, my computer has apparently decided that it is not quite as pissy now that it is December...perhaps it is joyful about the advent of the holidays and has decided it is not necessary to act like a little bitch. Seriously, three weeks. So damn weird.

Moving on, December 1 has brought with it my typical pre-holidays trepidation. I thought I was going to avoid it this year. You see, we didn't have to travel for Thanksgiving this year. My mom and grandmother came up here and my husband and I cooked and hosted, along with my brother and his wife, for the long weekend. It was fantastic! No loading up the car with all of our crap, our two dogs, and braving the worst weekend of the year for driving.

Because we didn't have to go anywhere, for once in my life, I was not feeling true panic over the approach of the holidays. That measly five days seemed to present oodles more time to prepare for things like sending Christmas cards (uh, we've managed to do that exactly once, 3 years ago), buying presents for everyone (including my husband's family because, as he says, "Isn't that why I got married? So I don't have to shop anymore?"), and hosting our second annual holiday party (I am no Martha Stewart which means hosting party = anxiety attacks).

Until I realized that family coming here for Thanksgiving means cleaning the house top to bottom, figuring out a menu, shopping, cooking all that food, trying to keep the dogs from humping grandma all weekend, and generally playing the pleasant hostess, meaning no retreating to the bedroom with a good book and a bottle of wine, as I might do if I were at my mom's house.

So, December 1 brings yet panic again. I shall grin and bear it, because that's the kind of woman I am. A full-of-shit, cheesy, neurotic martyr. Be my friend.

Hello? Blogger?

2006-11-20T13:47:00.000-05:00

So, this is quite strange. I recently upgraded this here blog to the new Beta version of Blogger. It worked fine for a day or two, but then completely shut me out. I can't log in to Blogger and can't access many of my favorite blogs. I suspect it has something to do with my shitty, craptastically old desktop, which has been causing all sorts of problems lately. So, Santa's coming early this year, and I'm finally getting a laptop! In the meantime, enjoy this dull, whiny message, posted off a friend's computer. That's a way to score lots of readers, right?

Bittersweet fall

2006-11-14T13:35:00.000-05:00

I love fall. I love the leaves turning and the first cool day that finds me digging sweaters out of the back of the closet. I love knowing that the holidays are nearing. But, fall has also taken on a sadness for me. My dad loved the fall, it was his favorite time of year. His birthday is November 19th and Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday. My dad died last year, July 5, 2005.

He was sick for many years with a particularly cruel form of multiple sclerosis (MS) and his health had deteriorated significantly in the last several years. He was confined to a wheelchair and my mom had to feed him, bathe him, and help him use the bathroom. A difficult, sometimes sad life, but we were a very happy family. My mom cared for him everyday, our family and friends rallied around them, and Dad was the last person on earth to ask for sympathy. In fact, when anyone asked how he was, his patented response was "Doing well!" with an accompanying grin and a twinkle in his blue eyes. Then, fate kicked us in the ass yet again and he was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2004.

He actually responded quite well to treatment initially. But, in the end, the cancer was too much for his weakened body and he slipped very quickly from relative good health to his final days in the hospital. Though I knew he was sick and in the hospital yet again, it was a complete shock when I received a call early in the morning from my mom saying that I needed to get home as quickly as possible. I was in San Francisco with my husband where we were planning to celebrate our 2nd anniversary and my 30th birthday. I laid in bed in cried and cried while my husband made arrangements to get us there as soon as possible.

Our family spent Dad's last days together. He had to stay in the hospital, which still breaks my heart, but he needed too much to be comfortable at home. Family and friends came from far and near to say their goodbyes and we sat together, told stories and jokes, and shared pieces of chocolate cake (his favorite) brought from the best bakeries in town. He was aware of what was happening and we all acknowledged it with him, often in silence or through a look, a hug, a kiss. Luckily, everything important had already been said, or did not need to be said at all. We were a close-knit, happy family and he was the best of us all. He slipped into unconsciousness on July 4th and died the next morning surrounded by the women who loved him - my two grandmothers, my mom and myself. We were all touching him as we watched him take his last breath.

I did pretty well through that last week in the hospital and the days subsequent to his death. My family was together and we comforted each other and made it through with a mix of tears, stoicism, wine and inappropriate humor – our specialty. MS is not a fatal disease, but because of the unusual severity of his illness, I think we had all been preparing for some time to let go of Dad earlier than we wanted to. We realized that each of us had already done much of our mourning, over the last several years, as we came to grips with his MS and its devastating impact. I shed many tears that week, but was stronger than I could have imagined. Denial is a lovely thing.

After the shock began to wear off and we transitioned back to "normal" life, I felt my shell starting to crumble. You're not supposed to lose your dad at 30 years old. Though I was never much for, "Why me?" I found myself questioning how something so shitty could happen to such a kind, gentle man. He was a child psychiatrist who served the poorest and the sickest children. He was a very quiet man and often didn't have much to say, especially once the MS started to effect his swallowing and speaking. But he could always surprise you with a witty comment or a quick joke, just when you thought he wasn't following the conversation, and he was known for his grin and his extremely firm handshake, even when he was at his sickest.

Last year, I dreaded his birthday for weeks. It was the first big milestone after his death and I no longer had my denial to protect me. I made sure I was alone that day, even sending my husband to an out-of-town wedding, over his protests. I knew it would be hard and I wanted to be with my own thoughts and feelings. The holidays were sad, but we tried to tell as many great stories of him as we could think of and spending time with our family brought a lot of joy and laughter, even if it was mixed with tears. Over the next many months, I found myself gradually able to think about him without immediately tearing up. I remembered the good things, the funny stories, his voice and his smile.

I know that my grief isn't over and done with, but I've arrived at a more comfortable place - past the denial and the numb, and past the deep and pervasive sadness. I was almost surprised this past summer to realize that, amidst the chaos of my husband's graduation and vacations with friends and family, the anniversary of his death was approaching. I monitored my emotions, almost from outside my own self, and was surprised to realize that I was not dreading the impending date as much as I had feared. We had a quiet July 4th at home - me, my husband, our dog and our new puppy. The next morning dawned with my husband wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me tightly, though we didn't speak of it. Honestly, I don't even remember what I did that day. All I know is that I thought of Dad often, smiled, spoke quietly to him, felt his love, and felt comfort.

Now, we are almost upon his birthday again. I think I will always dread these milestone dates, but this year I do not have the fear that I did last year. I still miss him, I still cry in the shower sometimes, and as we move closer to thinking about starting a family, I mourn the fact that my children will never know their grandpa, will never be on the receiving end of one of his magical smiles, never hear him read them a bedtime story, and never feel his patient hands showing them how to hold a baseball bat. But, I have pictures, and stories, and memories and they will absolutely know how special he was.

So, though November will always bring me sadness, I know he would want me to feel the joy of the changing seasons, the approaching holidays, and the chance to spend time with family. So, I do.

Reason #72 why working at home is cool

2006-11-13T09:10:00.000-05:00

7:00 am: Husband's alarm clock goes off since he needs to be at his internship by 8:00 am. He tries to snuggle and instead gets "Argh...snort...#$**!@......I'm sleeeeeepy....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

7:40 am: Husband comes to kiss me good bye, asks if I remembered to set my alarm, to which I respond, "Argh...snort...@#*&$.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzz." (I'm delightful in the morning.)

7:42 am: 150 lbs of Lab descends on the bed. Both start licking their butts. LOUDLY. I curse some more and put my pillow over my head.

8:18 am: My alarm goes off. Why did I ever think it was funny to program my cell alarm to play "Gold Digger"?! Hit snooze, quickly.

8:28 am: I hate you, Kanye! Turn alarm off, tell myself that I'm "totally awake." Dogs are now smushed on either side of me, like big, furry, blankets. Mmmmmm, maybe I'll just close my eyes for a few more minutes.

8:52: Woken up by neighbor's very loud Latin rap music, emitting from his stupid convertible Miata (just like EVERY OTHER morning). Shit, what time is it? Squirm out from under the dog that is laying across my shins. Stumble into the same comfy pants I've been wearing for 3 days in a row. Let dogs out. Make coffee.

9:02: I am sitting in front of my computer, with a steaming cup of coffee, answering emails, just like the rest of the working world (suckers).

You can call me Fuzz (for a reason)

2006-11-10T12:05:00.000-05:00

So, um, I don't think I have any actual readers yet, but if I do, I'm guessing you know Amalah, right? She was one of the first blogs I read and is certainly one of the inspirations for this here blog. If you read her, you know she is the Queen of Everything, including the Advice Smackdown, answering all sorts of questions about hair, beauty, fashion, etc. for those of us who are, er, challenged in any or all of these areas. She recently asked her readers to let her know if they felt they had expertise in a particular area, to assist with those questions for which she has no personal experience. Well, I have toiled and sweated for years, doing my research, trying and failing, all to hone my expertise in an area that has caused me much angst since the 5th grade.

In my very first entry I explained the origin of the name of my blog. The hair, lo, how it is big and curly. It is certainly one of my defining features and I have finally grown to love it, but I had TERRIBLE hair for years. Very curly, dry and frizzy, too blonde and too chlorinated from years of swim team. This was during the days of bad perms as far as the eye could see - you would think that I would have fit right in, but sadly, no. I was a bit of a tomboy and had no idea how to manage it, much less fix it. I did everything wrong - I got the mushroom cut, I tried to grow "mall bangs," I used gel that could have doubled for spackle.

But, over many years, I have finally figured it out. Wise haircut decisions, finding the right product, leaving the '80's and early '90's behind - all of these factors helped immensely. So, I am very pleased that I can offer my hard-earned curly hair knowledge to you and yours. So, go! Ask some questions!

Fitness schmitness

2006-11-09T15:58:00.000-05:00

I am so fucking out of shape. You may not know it to look at me. I'm a petite woman (read: midget-like) and have never really been overweight. Except maybe in college when I didn't seem to get that I could no longer drink a six-pack of Coke daily and live off of cheese fries and bad keg beer without consequences, since I was no longer playing sports year round. I even lost some weight recently due to some shitty things going on in my life. Who knew that emotional stress could curb my always ravenous appetite? Now that my world view is a little rosier, I have managed to keep the weight off and am actually quite happy with my size.

But, my God, other than walking our dogs, I don't get any exercise. I've always been athletic. Played soccer, volleyball, and swam when I was in high school. More soccer in college and I've even run two marathons, though let me issue a huge caveat here: I hate to run, I'm an incredibly slow runner, and the only reason I ran the damn things was to benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Oh, and the fact that the first one was in Bermuda and the second was in Alaska. That definitely helped too. I think because I have a pretty solid history of being active, I figure that I have somehow magically retained some base level of fitness. But I was recently proven very, very wrong.

My husband (who has been an accomplished athlete all his life and is in sickeningly good shape, seemingly without trying - bastard) has been playing IM sports with his graduate program and asked me if I wanted to play indoor soccer with them. I was pretty excited, as I haven't played soccer in over a year and I love indoor. But, holee shit. I played for five minutes and thought I was going into cardiac arrest. Seriously, I came off the court and saw stars briefly. So, so sad.

Working at home does wierd things to your schedule. On one hand, you have more time. You can do laundry and run errands in between bursts of working. You can walk the dogs at 10:00, or 2:00 or 4:00. But, when you're like me (read: slightly ADD, with grand plans of all I will accomplish every day, only to be sorely disappointed when it's 5:00 pm, I've only done 3 hours of work, done NOTHING around the house and am still wearing my pajamas), it is hard to get in a real schedule. I've really been trying lately. Trying to fit in work, house stuff, time with my husband and my dogs, and staying at least a little bit organized. But, holy hell, I think it's time to add some freakin' exercise to the list. I strained a hamstring walking the dogs yesterday. People, that's pathetic. I'll keep you posted. If I've worked out once at the end of next week it will be a miracle. See? Expect the worst, hope for the best. My motto for life.

What month is this?

2006-11-08T15:38:00.000-05:00

November? Shit. Not so good at the posting regularly thing for the last little bit. Here's a quick update:

1) Went to the reunion for my college singing group. Had a blast reliving my youth and my "rock star" days, that is, if "rock star" is the same thing as "dorky a cappella singer."

2) Finished my giant work paper. After writing for 12 straight hours the day of my deadline. Subsequently developed carpal tunnel syndrome.

3) Went to one of my best friend's super-fun wedding in Charleston. Side note: her wedding coordinator got so drunk that he ate off her parents' plates at the reception, wiped his mouth with the tablecloth, and when she demanded that he leave, he peeled out of the parking lot and hit a car. Instead of being devastated, she thought it was freakin' hilairous and proceeded to repeat the story to everyone at the reception. She canceled his check the next morning. This is why I love her.

4) Went to the mountains with all of our college friends (an annual event) where we live off of candy and nachos, get super-drunk and act like 21 year-olds for three days, deep in the woods where we can't bother anyone (or get ourselves arrested). Except, these days, the drinking and debauchery is interspersed with knitting, much gossip about the birth of the first baby of the group, and cries of "your flip cup game is leaving water rings on the table."God we're getting old and crotchety.

5) Spent a few blissfully quiet weekends at home watching movies, knitting, doing yardwork and cleaning out closets and YAAAAAAAAWN. I'm sorry, where was I?

6) Am currently driving myself insane trying to keep our two Labs "quiet" after our 3 year-old strained something in his hind leg and our puppy had surgery (he is no longer a "real" man, if you get my drift). Trying to keep two young, rambunctious, pent-up, bored Labs "quiet" is a complete joke.

I really wish I had some deeper thoughts, funnier stories, or political diatribes for you, but I don't, especially that last one since the Dems took back Congress. Woot!

Drinkin'

2006-10-01T16:43:00.000-04:00

Today was a much better work day than yesterday and, people.....drum roll......I stayed off the internet ALL DAY in order to work on my paper. Well, I stayed off the internet until 4:20, which is really really impressive if you are me.

Anyway, in the spirit of trying my damnedest to post fairly often, I present to you a stream-of-consciousness chain of related (kinda) stories.

1) I am drinking a beer right now. In case you didn't know, beer helps you write better. Especially, cheap, light, domestic beer. Mmmmm...Yuengling.

2) When my husband I first moved to D.C., my 22 year-old brother came to visit. We went to lunch at a cafe somewhere in Dupont Circle and the waiter came over to take our drink order. My brother said, "I think I'll have a Yuengling." The waiter then looked at me and I said, "Yeah, that sounds good. I like Japanese beer." Needless to say, both my brother and the waiter were horrified. But do you see? How I could have thought that? What with the "ling" at the end? No? I know, I'm a total dumbass.

In my defense, Yuengling is made in Pennsylvania. I grew up and went to school in the Southeast and Yuengling didn't market itself nationwide until the last several years, so I had never heard of it. So what if it's "America's Oldest Brewery"? Honest mistake, people.

3) Another embarrassing drinking-related story...wheeee! I was just emailing with one of my best friends (ha! I just typed breast friends! That 3/4 of a beer is really getting to me!) who is getting married next weekend. She is very excited and I'm in the wedding and blah blah. Anyway, she is so well organized that she and her soon-to-be husband are going to have the chance to spend a couple of romantic days together before the wedding because they are totally done with all the planning. My husband and I were not quite as lucky.

We did most of the planning ourselves and felt like we were in really good shape until our last few days at home before we traveled to the wedding destination when we realized that we still needed to print and finalize directions and maps for our guests! And make the welcome gift bags! And finalize the seating chart! And write the placecards for the rehearsal dinner!

So, one of those last nights entailed hours on the computer getting a lot of that stuff done and I was so stressed that I didn't eat dinner, but I did drink a lot of wine, you know, to de-stress, and I got really, really tipsy. And then, I kept mistyping things and screwing stuff up and I got REALLY pissed. Like stomping-around-and-yelling pissed. I apparently was running arond our condo yelling at myself because I was so mad about getting drunk when there was So. Much. To. Do. And, apparently this was hysterical to my husband, which of course made me even madder.

To this day, when I have cause to announce that I'm kinda drunk, he responds, "But are you pissed?" We find it amusing, even without the stupid double "that's what British people say!" entendre.

4) And finally, we have a friend who swears he has the best conversational transition of all time. (Which I clearly could have used in this post.) You have to picture this with a DEEP Southern drawl. Whenever it's time, he'll say, "Speaking of the plight of the Galapagos sea turtles, I luuuuuuuuve drinkin'!" Try it, you'll see. Works every time.

Can you see my vagina in this?

2006-09-27T15:07:00.000-04:00

WOO HOO! Procrastination is fuuuuuuuun. I've written 3 pages in 2 days. Not good, not good, not good. So, I'll tell you what I'm doing this weekend, since that's fun, right? When you should be writing about 50 words per minute to actually meet your deadline?

I was in an a cappella group in college. It's true - I'm a singing dork. Seriously, singing has always been a huge part of my life. I'm actually singing in a blues/R&B band right now, which is way fun, even though everyone else in the band is a 50+ year-old business school professor.

Don't ask.

ANYWAY, this a cappella group was really important to me in college. The girls I sang with were some of my best friends and we spent practically all of our time together, even aside from the substantial time we spent singing (3 hour rehearsals twice a week, plus concerts, plus road trips to sing at other schools on weekends). Not surprisingly, given that we were a bunch of college-aged women, discussions about what we would wear to each concert took up so much rehearsal time that we eventually elected a "fashion chair" to decide on options for each concert that we then voted on. Seriously. Being that this was the mid-90's, our outfit choices ranged from jeans with blazers (way before the days of cute, cropped, fitted blazers), overalls(!), and "jewel-toned" tops with black pants. We were hott (1995 hott, that is).

So, this year is the group's 15th anniversary and we're all going back to school this weekend to hang out, have a big concert, and relive the good ol' days. AND to feel really fucking old. We actually had a 10th anniversary reunion too, and not surprisingly, spent considerable time talking with the youngun's who were currently in the group to come up with a simple theme for what we would wear so that we would all sort of coordinate when we were on stage together. We settled on whatever combination of black and white you wanted. So, all the alums show up in tasteful, stylish dresses, skirts, whatever. But, the current group? Definitely sang in black tube tops that had been bedazzled with the group's name. Yeah.

So, as I get ready to go back again, five years older, I can not wait to see my friends, sing with them again, meet people's babies, but I am NOT looking forward to standing on stage next to 20 year-olds in white halter tops and black miniskirts or shorts that expose body parts that "I would normally only see if we were romantically involved (see Zoot for reference)."

Maybe I'll wear shoulder pads and peg my faded black jeans, just for kicks.

Holy shit.

2006-09-25T14:40:00.000-04:00

So, say, back in May, you received one of your biggest work assignments to date. Say that this project required you to call bazillions of "experts" in the field (which is especially awesome when you have phone phobia, like I do) and schedule lots of meetings. Say that all these interviews and meetings generated, like, a hundred pages of notes that you are then supposed to read and transform into a very long and extensive guide on your topic that will be useful to organizations all across the country. Say that your client, who is very intimidating and supremely unavailable for help, guidance, questions, has decided that this project is her "baby", which really increases the pressure on you to produce something fabulous. Say that she is returning from a month's vacation next Monday and is expecting a full draft of this guide.

Now, say that, thanks to a lifetime of honing your procrastination to an art form, you didn't actually start writing the damn thing until last Tuesday.

Yeah.

Happy Fall!

2006-09-22T15:28:00.000-04:00

Um, hey guys...what's up? Happy, uh, September. Hmmm...blog take two has, so far, not been very successful. Do I dare post another entry, just to have it mock me for the next two months? What? Pretend like it never happened? Okay, la la la la la la.

So, hope everyone had a lovely summer. Mine was mostly boring. Work around the house, play with new puppy, visit family, go to Barcelona and then a wedding in Amsterdam. Oh wait, that last thing was actually pretty fun. A college friend, Dutch-born but raised in the States, married an awesome woman who is also Dutch-born, but raised in London. This was advantageous to all us ignorant Americans who attended the wedding, because it meant that the wedding ceremony and just about everything else was in English. Although, then we learned that pretty much everyone in the Netherlands speaks fluent English. You learn something new...

Anyway, highlights of the trip included:

1. Keeping ourselves on Eastern time the entire time we were in Barcelona by staying up until 5:00 am and sleeping 'til 2:00.

2. Eating at the Hard Rock Cafe the first night in Barcelona. Actually, this was not a highlight, but a source of shame. I know lots of people like the Hard Rock, but when you're in a kick-ass European city with amazing food? Not so much. In our defense, it was 11:30 pm on a Monday, and while most people in Barcelona don't even consider dinner until 10:00 pm, most local restaurants are closed on Mondays.

3. Not getting our luggage until Day 3 because we missed our flight to Barcelona because of congestion at the fucking Philly airport and had to be rerouted at the last minute through Paris. Also, having to go to the Barcelona airport in person to look for our bags because Air France's phone operators are ASSHOLES. Turns out there was a baggage handler strike at the Barcelona airport and our bags (and 4,000 others) had just been sitting in the warehouse for 2 days, with no one to get them where they needed to go. But it's okay. I like wearing the same underwear for three days in a row.

4. Canal cruise in Amsterdam the night before the wedding. Until we hit the wall of the canal and my friend spilled her entire glass of red wine over my white pants. Actually, given that I had already had about 7 glasses of wine, this was surprisingly funny.

5. Attending a big, fancy wedding reception in a castle in The Hague. Apparently, in Dutch custom, it is traditional to split everyone up to be seated for dinner. So, not only did I not sit with my friends, but I didn't sit with my husband either. He ended up between two, young blonds, and I ended up next to a drunk, 75 year-old man, who was a close talker and tried to look down my dress throughout dinner.

Seriously, the trip was amazing and the perfect way to end the summer. And now, wheeeee, back to work, in my basement. Next up: procrastination, or why is my house so clean when I have a 50-page draft due for work next week?

I'm pathetic

2006-08-01T17:19:00.000-04:00

This has been a boring-ass week and I don't have much to say. So in the vein of my previous "I'm one of those crazy, dog-obsessed people that you find really annoying," posts, here you go...

Names I call my dogs (none of which have anything to do with their actual names):

1) Shark (sharp little puppy teeth)
2) Flopsy Mopsy (anyone familiar with the crazy, floppy, sideways puppy run when they're really excited? no, just me?)
3) Sweetpea-head (not sweetpea, or peahead, but sweetpea-head)
4) Fruit (I have no f'in idea where this came from, but it's my favorite for our older dog)
5) Poophead (one of my personal favorites, but again with the "head")
6) Babycakes (I just cringed when I typed that)

I swear one of these days I will have something else to talk about. No, really. Please come back.

How could you refuse this face?

2006-07-18T16:57:00.000-04:00

So, new puppy, so great, so cute, blah blah. But, my God, this poor little guy came with some issues. We love our breeder, and she cares very much for her dogs, but I guess when you're breeding puppies on a farm with lots of other dogs and animals around, it's inevitable that some of them are going to develop some fun health problems. So far, we have ear mites, a skin infection due to either allergies or some type of mange (eek!), and some intestinal difficulties due to, well, I'll spare you. So, total charge so far for vet visits, vaccines, special allergy-free puppy food, and all his medications? Well over $200, and we've only had him for two weeks! But, what else would we do but shell it out for our newest baby? I mean, are you looking at his face up there? Plus, this is a mere drop in the bucket considering our older dog got hit by a car which wrecked his paw and, 3 months later, fractured the growth plate in one of his knees, all before his first birthday, and all on a grad school budget (he recovered completely).

So, are human kids any cheaper? No? Damn.

Awwwwwwwwwwww.

2006-07-13T17:18:00.000-04:00

Here is a gratuitous dog picture - steel yourselves...there will be plenty more where this came from. Of all the adorable pictures we've taken so far (um, maybe like 178? in the two weeks we've had the new puppy?), this is my favorite. If I could caption this picture, it would be,"Seriously, people, what the fuck is this thing? It's chewing my toys! And, like, laying on me! Please, God, help me. I will kill you for this, humans."

I am pleased to report that he has now decided that he (mostly) likes his new little brother. Even when his little brother is sinking his tiny, needle-like fangs into his ears.

Why is it that....

2006-07-12T11:48:00.000-04:00

...new puppies wait just long enough to convince you that they "get" that they're supposed to do their business outside, lull you into a complacent state of mind, and then wait until your reading blogs to shit on the carpet?

...I complain about my husband being underfoot/bugging me constantly/not letting me get any work done since he graduated from his MBA program in May, and now that he's started school again, I miss him desperately and feel like I'm left with all my "real" work AND the housework (like cleaning up puppy poop)?

...my client had me spend hours and hours, over a matter of weeks, trying to schedule meetings around her crazy schedule for the both of us to attend, only to decide two days before we're due to depart that she doesn't think she needs to go anyway?

...I can spend hours and hours feverishly working on a personal work-out and diet plan/detailed family budget/new blog template, only to abandon said effort 3 days later with nary a second thought?

...I am already falling back on lists, when it's only my second day of blogging?

Entry 2 (in 2 years)

2006-07-11T16:57:00.000-04:00

So, let's see what happened in the last two years. Husband: STILL in grad school (though moved on to PhD in education, after graduating from MBA program, so at least he's home more and on the golf course less). Me: STILL working from home. However, at the end of my work day today I am wearing...workout clothes instead of pajamas! That's progress, folks. What else? Different house - actually own this one, v. exciting. Lots more work (our yard is an acre and a veritable jungle, I'm not even kidding), but very fun. And, finally, two dogs instead of one, the newest of which is 10 weeks old, because we're INSANE. Actually, it has been super fun so far, and easier than we thought. Here's a little secret: whereas your first dog is likely extremely (and overly) attached to you, the second dog will attach himself to the first dog, worshipping him and loving him and biting the ever-loving shit out of his ears, nose, tail, etc. Therefore, you can let the puppy torture your older dog while you turn back to the computer. Ta da! Pet ownership at its finest.*

So, life is good - it's been a crazy, often completely shitty couple of years since I wrote that first entry, but we'll get into that later. Tah!

*I am completely kidding - we are those sick kinds of people that treat their dogs like their children. In fact, we are still feeling very guilty that we went and ruined the pampered, solo life of our first "baby." But, he will thank us one day when we have human babies and he has someone to play with...no, really.

Where was I?

2006-07-11T16:50:00.000-04:00

It’s amazing what you may decide to undertake when it’s 5:02 pm** and you are so, so tired of the paper-from-hell you have been working on for months that makes you cry.

“Hey, I know…since I already spend far too many hours reading blogs (thus, preventing me from doing the work I get paid for), I’ll start my own!” Yeah, that’s a great idea. Though, I will go to any lengths for distraction whilst sitting in front of my computer in my home office at the end of my working day, trying to forget that I’m still in my pajamas and my hair is in the exact state it was in when I arose this morning.

Side note: The title of this blog refers to said hair. Due to its volume (plentiful) and texture (uh, crimpy?), it has been my most defining feature since it finally appeared at the age of two. Yes, until then my babysitter taped bows to my head, so upset was she that strangers often referred to me as a “cute little boy.” Now, at the age of 29, and having discovered the magical elixir that is Aveda Confixor, I actually receive many compliments. Yeah. Where was I going with this?

So, here I am with a blog. I have always had a love-hate relationship with writing. I came to me easily enough in school, and I now do it for a living (in very dry fashion) as a policy analyst working for a nonprofit organization. I will tell anyone who asks that I really like what I do and feel that I am pretty successful at it. But when I am in the middle of a paper, memo, whatever, you can often find me tearing my hair out and weeping, likely due to my attention span, akin to a gnat’s, and my gift for procrastination. But, hey, a blog? That’s little bits of writing at a time. On whatever I want. Refreshing.

To be honest, what truly inspired me to start this blog was the many intelligent, witty, intriguing, spit-coffee-on-my-keyboard-funny women writers I have found in the blog world. I’ve got nothing on these ladies…nothing at all. But, they’ve inspired me with their very honest, and incredibly funny stories and you, internet, will now have to put up with my ditherings…sorry.

Plus, and let me back off of the cheezy goodness now, I work from home, never see my husband who is busting his ass in grad school, and spend so much time talking to the dog that I’m convinced he’s going to talk back one day just to tell me to, “Can it, bitch.” Let’s face it, I can use all the distractions I can get.

**Technically, it's 4:47 pm, two freakin' years after I wrote this first post. Back then, I published....mmmm.....3 entries? Because that's so typical of me? So here goes take two. Maybe blogging for free this time around will be more inspiring.