My poor, neglected blog

So here's the deal.

Ten days after my dad passed away my work life got turned upside down. I was "asked" to come on board full time. Anyone who has been reading my blog for a while, or should I say, used to read it when I was posting more than once every quarter, knows how much I loved the part-time work arrangement I shared with Mark.

I refuse to go into any more details about it, other than to say, alas, I guess it just is no longer meant to be.

Unfortunately, working full time, out of the house, five days a week, with a 50-60 minute commute each way, has taken its toll on just about every facet of my life. My triathlon training is in the dumps. I'm struggling to get in 3 or 4 quick workouts a week, sometimes leaving the house at 5:15 a.m. to swim or running in the dusky early mornings at 5:30 a.m. before I'm even fully awake. Not fun.

I feel like I rarely see my kids Monday through Friday. My time with them is limited to about 30 minutes in the morning (if I don't go to the gym) and about 90 minutes in the evening.

Blogging has taken the biggest hit as you can obviously tell. And it's not just a lack of time. It's a lack of creativity/desire/get-up-and-go. I'm mentally spent after 8+ hours in the office and the last thing I want to look at is a computer. So, it's gotten cut out altogether.

I know BlogHer is happening in New York City - 45 minutes away from me this weekend. It eats me up not to be there, but then I think: for what? I have no readers and don't even know if I'll be blogging at all in a year.

I've decided the best strategy is not to stress about it. I will post when I can, and more importantly, when I want to. If I have readers who are willing to bear with me and check in every so often? Great. And if not, then this goes back to what I originally intended: a place to share pictures and stories about my life with distant friends and family members.

In the meantime, I hope everyone at BlogHer has fun. And maybe, just maybe, this ship will right itself and I'll feel confident enough to join you all in the future.

Hello blogosphere. I'm back. I hope.

Want to guess what one of my New Year's goals was? To resume regular blogging.

Hmmm. Well, it is January 26 and this is my first post of 2010. I'd hardly call that regular.

However, not a day goes by that I don't think about this blog. It nags me silently when I'm driving or working or brushing my teeth.

Update me.

Update me.

Update me.

And yet, the ideas just won't come.

I also think often about the bloggers whose work I have not read in WEEKS. I wonder what is new with their lives, their families. I crave their words, but have been too afraid to check in. Like the phone call you don't return right away. A few days and it's awkward. A few months and you just plain look like a jackass.

But I know, deep down, that I want to come back. Writing is in my soul. I just need to sit down and start typing.

So here I am, starting again. I hope you've all been well.

Helllooooo, Lover.

I am a bargain shopper.

I loooove finding a hidden gem – some retail item that has been deep discounted. It is a thrill¬—my reward, my due—for suffering the mall, or worse, the disorganized big box store.

Lately, I have been getting my thrills in thrift stores. They appeal not only to my love of bargain hunting, but also to my desire to live a green lifestyle: reduce, reuse, recycle and all that good stuff.

About a year ago, a coworker discovered a thrift store about 10 minutes from our office. It benefits the Lupus Foundation, and while 85% of the stuff there is of no interest to me, every now and then I find something truly spectacular.

Like a caramel colored Ralph Lauren belted suede coat for $9. Or a black Tahari suit jacket for $12.

But in truth I am Carrie Bradshaw at heart. I loves me some fine shoes. Unlike Carrie, I don’t have the budget to stock up on Jimmy’s or Manolo’s. Once in a while I’ll stroll through Nordstrom or Neimans and fondle the fine Italian leather in the designer shoe section, wishing and hoping, but never buying.

There is a thrift store about 15 minutes from my house that I haven’t – until recently – spent much time in.

But last week, I went there looking for a pair of dress pants and I came home with two pairs of practically brand new Ann Taylor suit pants for a grand total of $7. Yesterday, I had nothing much to do after I dropped Loaf off at school, so I went back.

I wasn’t looking for anything in particular – just killing time. I browsed around the clothing, but didn’t really find anything. Then I went downstairs and picked up two paperback books—The Shack and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for 25 cents each.

I was standing in line waiting to check out, when I noticed a wall of designer shoes near the registers. And on top of that wall was a pair of black pumps.

Killer black pumps.

To some, they are just shoes. But to my inner Carrie Bradshaw, they are sex and classic elegance stacked on a three-and-a-half-inch glossy black leather heel. They are feminine and powerful and hot.

I sauntered over and lifted them from that shelf, feeling their weight in my hands – a weight that only the finest made shoes have.

They were by Dolce & Gabbana.



And they were my size.

I slipped them on and strolled slowly in front of the registers.

”Those are gorgeous,” said a woman standing by the register. “You have to get them.”

I pulled them off and turned them over, expecting to find a price tag of at least $50.

Instead? $25!

SCORE!



My inner Carrie is extremely pleased.

Watermelon, watermelon

So you know what we did this weekend? A whole lotta nothin'.

Aside from a bike ride, a trip to Target, a hike at a local nature preserve and a visit to the ice cream parlor, we passed the days in our own yard. I lounged around in a chair with my feet up reading a book while the girls splashed in their pool nearby. We ate lunch outside on a blanket every day and lounged around looking at the sky. We grilled and drank lemonade and ate watermelon.

Lots and lots of watermelon. Mmmmm.





How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?

Dusting off the old blog

I know.

I know.

I have royally sucked on the updates lately, but I'm pledging to be better starting this week.

In the meantime, go here to read about the panic attack I had in the pool this morning, and how I pulled myself out of it.

Back with more soon!

Stopping to breathe in the great marathon of life

We sit on the bed, a pillow stuffed behind my back to prevent the headboard from cutting into my back. Peanut sits on my left. My arm is wrapped around her, pulling her snugly against me. Loaf sits in my lap. My right arm surrounds her.

We huddle there, forming a circle. For the moment, we have no beginning and no end. We are one entity – interlocked puzzle pieces.

I read rhythmically from a book. They listen attentively, sitting motionless and silently. The only other sound is that of their breathing.

We lounge languorously against each other – their bodies lean against mine, my arms rest gently on them.

When the story ends, our trilogy is abruptly broken. Loaf leaps from my lap and lands gently on the floor. Peanut pulls quickly away, reaching for the cat lounging at the foot of the bed. I stand and walk into the kitchen to check the time.

Five minutes until my conference call.

My life these days seems to be—more so than ever before because of my training—ruled by the clock.

25 minutes on the treadmill

35 minutes on the bike

45 minutes in the pool

Alarm at 5:45 a.m.

Leave the house at 7:20 a.m. and don’t arrive home until after 9 p.m.

Drop the girls off at 9 a.m.

Pick Loaf up at 11:30 a.m.

Pick Peanut up at 1 p.m.

Lunch, laundry, e-mail, work, read.

Conference call at 4 p.m.

Dinner at 6 p.m.

Yesterday, I worked more than 12 hours.

Not that I’m complaining. I’m enjoying the challenge of training and given the choice (especially in this economy) I’d rather be busy at work than not.

But it’s starting to feel like a treadmill never stops. My 25-minute run is just the warm up that feeds an all-day marathon. At the end of the day I am both physically and mentally exhausted. I collapse into bed with aching muscles and a head spinning with all the unfinished tasks on my “to do” list.

I have a package that needs to be mailed sitting in my bedroom for over two weeks. I have phone calls to friends that go unreturned. E-mails that go unanswered.

I haven’t written a “real” blog post since this one. I haven’t read anyone else’s blog in well over a week. I used to post on Twitter daily, now I’m lucky if I swing by even once.

I know my life is not all that different from many of yours, and I don’t mean to whine. But I feel at times a little like George Jetson at the start of The Jetson’s screaming, “Jane! Stop this crazy thing!”

So today, sitting in a quiet room with my daughters folded against me felt like a supreme luxury.

In the grand scheme of life, it was an unremarkable moment—one that could have easily passed by with no one noticing. But in the whirlwind of late, I soaked it up. Drank it in. Let the calm wash over me and the moment drag out.

The treadmill cranked back up again five minutes later, but at least for a few minutes, we were still.

A day in my life: Tuesday, March 10

Last week, my friend Kimberly posted photos on Facebook documenting a typical day in her life. I loved the idea, so yesterday I decided to take a crack at it. I'm not tagging anyone, because this is a little time intensive, but if you're into it - have at it (and please let me know you did it so I can come check out your photo essay).

The rules are simple:
1. Pick any day.
2. Photos should all be within a 24 hour period. (I'm hoping you'd pick a 'typical' day, if possible. But it's really your preference.)
3. Take one photo every hour that you are awake. Aim to do so in one hour increments, ie, 5:40, 6:40, 7:40, but it's okay as long as it's close to it. (You can skip shower photos.
4. The photo can be of anything you choose that gives a glimpse into your life in that hour. It doesn't HAVE to be of you.
5. Self-portraits are welcome but, really, you choose what you want to photograph to document that hour.
6. Upload the photos to Facebook, Flickr or your blog and label the album "24 hours" or "A day in the life of XXX" -- anything that makes it clear it's part of this photo challenge.
7. Have fun!

I want to apologize for the quality of some of these pictures. For all the love I feel for the iPhone, it's not really the best camera, but it had to do. So here we go!

7:30 a.m. - Breakfast



In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that this happened a good 45 minutes later than usual thanks to some later-sleeping children (but who is complaining?!) Can you guess whose is whose?

8:30 a.m. - Getting ready



At this hour, we are in the throes of getting ready for school. The girls get dressed, I make their lunch, we brush our teeth, etc. On Tuesdays, Peanut has ballet right after school, so she wears her leotard. We also have to put her hair up, so that was what was about to happen here.

9:30 a.m. - YMCA



So the girls are at school and I've gone off to the gym. Here I am cruising for a spot in the YMCA's very, very, VERY crowded parking lot. As you can see, there are a number of cars ahead of me also looking for spots. After this loop, I gave up and parked on the street behind the Y waaaaaaay down the street. I really should start counting the long walks I have from my car to the Y as part of my training.

10:30 a.m. - Post-swimming



Here I am fresh out of the pool looking very much like a drowned rat. After this, I took a shower and then drove back to my town to pick Loaf up from preschool.

11:30 a.m. - Pick up time



I pick Loaf up from school at 11:30 a.m. After this, we went across the street to a local cafe for lunch and then to . . .

12:30 p.m. - The library



. . . the library where we killed about 35 minutes before having to go back to the school to pick up Peanut and her friends for ballet.

1:30 p.m. - Waiting



Like I've mentioned, Peanut takes ballet on Tuesdays with two of her classmates. We three moms carpool so we each only have to drive (and also sit around and wait for 50 minutes) every 3rd week. This week, it was my turn, so here Loaf and I are chilling in the hallway while Peanut and her friends learn to pirouette and all that other good stuff.

2:30 p.m. - Driving the ballet bus



Class is over, and we are on our way home. And just to be clear, I was parked when I snapped this photo. No worries, people! Safety first!

3:30 p.m. - E-mail



We're back home and the girls are having a snack so I took a moment to get a little work done. Here I am checking my email. On my lap is Janey. The second I sit down, she hops into my lap, so this the view I have of my screen.

4:30 p.m. - Laundry



Believe it or not, somewhere under all that laundry is a pool table. At about 4:30, I decided to try and find it. And I just know this photo makes you want to break out singing "Glamourous Life," by Sheila E. <----Yeah, me neither. Le sigh.

5:30 p.m. - Bath



It probably seems odd, but I've gotten into giving the girls their bath before dinner (unless we're having something ridiculously messy). After dinner, they're just too tired (and so am I) and a bath usually ends in screaming (them) and/or crying and pleading (me). So to make life easier on us all, we bathe before dining in this house.

6:30 p.m. - Dinner



After the bath, I explored the kitchen hoping to find a nice wedge of salmon or a big breast of chicken, but alas, the grocery elves had let me down again, so we went with a frozen vegetable pizza from Trader Joe's (which was actually really good!) and a spinach salad with red onions, dried cranberries and walnuts. Not bad for having to pull it out of thin air.

7:30 p.m. - Work



After dinner, I read to the girls for about 30 minutes and then put on an episode of "Curious George" for them to watch. They don't watch TV all day, but they typically are allowed one show before bed. While they watch, I try to squeeze in a little more work. Here I am sitting before the (highly unflattering) glow of my laptop.

8:30 p.m. - Still working



The girls are nestled all snug in their beds and I am still working away.

9:30 p.m. - Winding down



Brushing my teeth, washing my face, packing up stuff for work tomorrow, etc.

And no, I have no idea why this photo looks like it was smeared with Vaseline.

10:30 p.m. - Bed



If you look closely under that cat and that book (which is not a cheesy romance novel, but the classic Rebecca), you will find a very sleepy me, just about to switch off the light. It's been a long day and my alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow so I need to get to bed. Good night y'all!

(I'm considering doing this again tomorrow, since it's an office day for me, and as you can imagine my work days are vastly different. But we'll see. I'm not sure how exciting 8 consecutive shots of my laptop would be, but maybe I can find some more creative things to show.)

No skating today (because it's 60something degrees - WOO HOO!)

We had a little taste of spring here in NJ this weekend and it was glorious.

On Saturday, we took the girls to a park and didn't have to wear jackets. It was too hot! (Global warming rocks.) Though apparently everyone in the state feels the same way because the park was so crowded there was a traffic jam and you could barely walk through it without bumping into someone.

Sunday was a little more overcast and cooler, but still wonderful. Mark played soccer, I went for a nice outdoor run and then we hit the local playground. Tomorrow, we're back to a much more seasonable 47-degrees, which is OK. Despite my earlier comment, I'd really prefer the Earth stay within it's normal temperature range if for no other reason than because I think polar bears are awesome and I'd like them to be around for the long haul.

***
Oh, and while we're talking about the weekend, I would just like to officially welcome back Daylight Savings Time with a huuuuggggeee hug and kiss.

:::smooooochhh::

Peanut actually slept in today until 6:30 a.m. I know that sounds RIDICULOUSLY early to a good number of you out there - those of you without kids, or with older kids, or anyone who has been lucky enough to be blessed with children who are late sleepers. But Peanut is an early riser. Really early.

When DST ended last fall, she was getting up around 4 a.m. We did manage to push her back a bit, but pretty much every day this winter she's been up around 5 or 5:30 a.m. I think there was that one day that she slept in until 6 a.m. and I actually went in to make sure she was breathing.

So now we're back on a sane schedule. At least until the fall.

So that was our weekend. Did you do anything fun? How is your household handing the changing the of the clocks?

The well-read meme

So Kate, from the very cool blog Sauciewee tagged me to participate in a really cool Bookworm Meme.



The rules are simple:
1. Find the nearest book and open it to page 46.
2. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences.
3. You must choose the closest book, not the coolest, or the one you think will sound the best. THE CLOSEST!!!

I've been in a book club for just under a year. For December, we wanted to read something short and light, so we selected Maya Angelou’s Letter to My Daughter and it was sitting right here on my desk not 18 inches from my laptop when I read that she tagged me.



I will say, it could be the world’s fastest read. It’s only 166 pages long and there are blank pages between chapters that count in the tally, so I’ve been whizzing right along. So far, I'm really enjoying it. Angelou is a phenomenal writer and very wise woman.

Page 46 is part of a chapter titled “Violence.”

The fifth sentence is:

He experiences the same vulgar rush as the flasher, save that his pleasure is not satisfied with brief shock, he has a surge and moves on to the deeper, more terrifying, invasion.

The next four lines are:

I am concerned that the pundits, who wish to shape our thinking and, subsequently, our laws, too often make rape an acceptable and even explainable social occurrence. If rape is merely about the possession of power, the search for and the exercising of power, we must simply understand and even forgive the natural human action of sex in the extreme. I believe that profanity directed at the victim of rape or equally lugubrious declarations of eternal love dribbled into the terrified victim’s ear, have less to do with power than with sexual indulgence. We must call the ravening act of rape, the bloody, heart-stopping, breath-snatching, bone-crushing act of violence, which it is.

So, how’s that for some fine writing?

I now know who (or what) I want to be when I grow up.

Feel free to play along on your own blog. And happy reading!

How are you feeling today?

Did you vote? How are you feeling?

Personally, I'm a mix of elation, fear, joy and jitters. I hope we don't have to wait too long for the results.

Here's a cool site that let's you enter a key word about your state of mind regarding today's election and then see what the most popular key words are from other people.

Also, Starbucks is giving out free coffee to anyone who voted. There's a reason for everyone to get out, vote and feel good about it.

Listening to my inner voice

Psssst. Hey? You. There on the computer. Do you know how many days have passed since you posted something on your blog?

Me: Um, I dunno. Three?

WRONG! Try five. Five days. And your last post was a Wordless Wednesday, which, while cute, does not exactly show off your wit or witticism as a writer.

Me: Sorry, I’ve been busy.

Busy is no excuse. None! You’ve got a small, but loyal group of readers now. And if you want to build on that, you’ve got to keep posting fresh material. Often. Do you know how many people have undoubtedly visited your blog since last Wednesday only to be disappointed at your utter lack of devotion, creativity and skill? Who knows how many. We’ll never know, because they’ll probably never come back.

Me: Yikes, don’t be so harsh. I told you, I’ve been busy.

Bloggers all over the country – the world – are busy, kid. And they still manage to post an interesting anecdote or observation every couple of days. They dig deep, and they find something to write about. You? Are not keeping up. Let’s think. There must be something interesting going on with you?

Me: Well, um, let's see . . .

OH COME ON! This is pathetic. Kids, think kids. They’re always doing something blog-worthy.

Me: Actually, lately, there hasn’t been much material there.

Nothing? No fits? No tantrums? Nothing that’s driving you crazy?

Me: Not really. Nothing new, at least. In fact, they’ve been remarkably well behaved lately.

Well, there has to be something. Think, kid, think. Have they hidden anything in a funny place recently?

Me: Not that I can recall.

Don’t you have some snarky political rant to share with the world?

Me: Well, truthfully, I’m feeling like that’s pretty much being covered elsewhere right now.

You must have had an amusing conversation with someone in your house lately?

Me: Ummm. . . .

Dude! Come on! You’re not even trying.

Me: I am, really, I am. It’s just, I’ve been busy and . . .

We’ve already been over that. There has to be something. Some sappy observation about how the girls are growing up from under you? You’re always good for a few of those.

Me: Honestly, I’ve got nothing.

::sigh::
What am I going to do with you? You’re useless. Your blogging cache is as vacant as Sarah Palin’s brain.

Me: Hey! You just made a funny!

So I did.

Me: Should we post it and call it a night?

Works for me. But you better make a real effort this week to post more often.

Me: I promise! Thanks, Mean Subconscious Voice.

No problem. All in a days work, kid.

See Kim. See Kim run (and bike, and swim).

I have this friend. I met her my very first day of college. She lived down the hall from me in my dorm. She’s a little kooky, in a good way. She's not just a spark, but the firecracker that results. A light of color and personality that makes everyone around her ooh and ahh. She lives in Maryland. She knows who she is.

In college, she was a source of constant entertainment. During finals, she was always the first to crack (in a good way). She’d dress up in some wacky outfit and dance around the dorm, sometimes with a broom or stuffed animal. I have pictures. I’d scan and post them, but I value my life too much.

In 2002, months before I conceived Peanut, we met at the Jersey shore for a weekend getaway. We were looking forward to two days lounging on the beach and one wild, crazy, ridiculously drunken night out. Days before the meeting, the forecast promised to rain on our parade – literally.

“If it rains, we’re getting tattoos,” she told me.

It poured.

I drove north on Sunday with fresh ink on my back. She drove off in the opposite direction with the same on hers.

In June, I came home to a message she left on my machine.

“I’ve had an epiphany,” she began. “Next year for our 40th birthdays we should go to Vegas.” There was a long pause. “After we do a triathlon.”

I literally laughed out loud. A triathlon! Plu-leaze. Who did she think I was? As I’ve written before, I’m no athlete.

But not long after her message I happened to read an article about Dara Torres, the 41-year-old swimmer who was about to compete in her fifth Olympic games, faster than ever. I thought about it.

I’m no Dara Torres, but if she could make the Olympics at 41, why couldn’t I do a triathlon next year? Not one of those crazy Ironmans with 2.5 mile swims, 112 miles bikes and a full marathon (26.2 miles) at the end. No, not one of those. But maybe a shorter one?

A little digging around revealed that Sprint Triathlons are fairly common.

So sometime next spring, my kooky, long-time friend and I will attempt to complete our first triathlon. (Notice I say first as if there may be others? Hope springs eternal.)

The exact distances are TBD, but it will be something in the range of a half- to one-mile open-water swim, 15- to 20-mile bike ride, and three to four miles of running. Yikes!

While I’ve worked out regularly for the last two-and-a-half years, taking strength training and step aerobics and kick boxing, I was doing none of the activities required to finish a triathlon with some semblance of grace and ease.

That has since changed. I’m running and biking a few times a week. Last week, I even started taking adult stroke lessons at the local Y because the doggie paddle I taught myself to do at the Fish Pond in North Adams, Massachusetts sometime in middle school probably isn’t going to cut it for a half mile (or more) in open water. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. Like I said, I value my life.

So those are my big goals for 2009: Finish a triathlon. Don’t die.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get another tattoo as well. If my kooky friend agrees to get one too.

It's August 29. Do you know where your summer is?

I sit here, looking at the little digital calendar on my computer trying to comprehend the fact that, for all intents and purposes, the summer of 2008 is over.

Oh sure, there’s still this weekend – a nice long one at that – but if summer were a politician, she’d be the lamest of lame ducks: powerless and wasting away. A figurehead at best.

We had a good summer and certainly had some fun moments. But I can’t help feeling like too much time was spent running, running, running.

Into the car. Off to the gym. Go to the grocery store. Do some work. Surf the web. Clean the house. Pull some weeds. Cook and eat dinner. Take a bath. Go to bed.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Looking back, it seems like summer slipped through my fingers like sand through a sifter and now it’s gone, never to be reclaimed. Too many days went by without really enjoying them and that’s a damn shame because my girls are growing up too fast. Already, they push me away – at times preferring to play on their own vs. with me. So this past week, I made a real effort to slow down and soak up what’s left of summer ’08 with them.

My house is a disaster, because instead of cleaning up every day we read. We sat on the kitchen step, arms wrapped around each other, and watched birds eat from the feeder. We went to the library, and instead of flipping through People or Self, I read story after story to them. We sat on the floor and colored. I cut my computer time way back and made an effort to do more of my work after hours so I could be with them in what’s left of this fleeting season of leisure.

It was nothing grand or extraordinary - just simple pleasures, easy joys. I plan to repeat it again this week because when it’s over, Peanut will be out of the house five days from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., and Loaf will be gone three mornings until 11:30 and my house will be quiet once again.

Soon after, the days will chill, the leaves will fall and before we know it, we’ll be bundling up in boots and coats and longing for days past when we chased fireflies and picked flowers and ran in the yard purely for fun.

I’m hoping to add a few more memories to that stockpile so that we all have something to draw upon in the coming weeks. Or years. Whatever the case may be.

The eyes have it

Last week, I attended a very cool event about the importance of eye exams co-sponsored by BlogHer and LensCrafters.



Check out my review here. And then go schedule an eye exam toot sweet!

Silence is golden

This morning, Mark left to take the girls up to Massachusetts to see my mom, stepfather and brother, who is visiting from California. They will be back tomorrow. I had to work so I couldn't go.

I arrived home a while ago to an eerily silent house. I plunked my keys down on the table listening to their odd metallic echo in the living room. Usually, I am greeted by running footsteps and squeals and cries of, "Pick me up! Give me a hug!"

I walked up the hallway noticing how every sound - from my own shoes on the hardwood floors, to the flick the light switch in the bathroom makes, to the click click click of the burner on the gas stove right before it fires into blue heat - is oddly amplified. Everything is clearer. And most of all, everything seems foreign. The usual swirl of activity that fills the final hours of my day is gone: No chatter, no occasional clink of utensils on plates, no laughter, no whining. And most of all, no mess. My house is as neat as it was when I picked it up almost 24 hours ago.

I paced around the kitchen - the extremely clean kitchen - waiting for my dinner of leftovers to heat up and wondering what to do in such a strange, quiet house. What would I do to fill my time tonight with no cleaning to do, no baths to give, no stories to read and no teeth to brush but my own?

And then it hit me.

IT'S PARTY TIME FOR MOMMA!

I'm going to break out a glass of wine, sit my ass on the couch and catch up on magazines. Or maybe I'll just surf the web all night. After I eat half a bag of chocolate and the rest of Peanut's birthday cake. I may even (gasp) take a bath! Alone! With no one banging on the door. And then I'll curl up in my bed and SLEEP ALL NIGHT LONG. By myself! No little people poking me in the arm in the middle of the night telling me they are scared. No small child crying out for water in the wee hours.

EIGHT STRAIGHT HOURS OF SLEEP.

::happydance! happydance! happydance!::

Now if you'll excuse me, I must log off. I've got big plans for tonight. Sleep tight!

A year without Harry Potter

It's been a full year since Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out and even longer (though not by much) since the last Harry Potter movie hit the theaters.

So how excited was I today to see this?

Very freakin' excited!

November! Gah!

::passing out onto floor::

Sexless and the city

Note, this my "review" of the Sex and the City movie, but I've been careful to reveal no major plot points for those who haven't seen it yet.

I loved Sex and the City.

Each episode served up a delicious little cocktail of men, drama, laughs, fashion and the Big Apple that I drank down heartily, always eager for the next installment. Above all, the show was about friends. Four smart, stylish women friends who stuck together through thick and thin, cried on each other's shoulders, stood by each other and celebrated milestones together. Through sickness and health, good times and bad, for better and worse, as long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.

Of course, the show was about sex and relationships too and each character had her ups and downs in her quest for love. When the series ended four years ago, each character had found love and happiness in her own way.

I had high hopes for the film version of this and while it was entertaining enough, something was missing. The Fab Four continued to hold each other up through some pretty tough times, which is what ultimately saved the movie in my eyes. But still, I couldn't help leaving the theater feeling a little void. It didn't quite fire on all cylinders and I've been trying to figure out why.

Some of the jokes felt a little forced. Charlotte poops her pants (really) and Samantha gains weight and gets a gut. Meanwhile, Big stomps on Carrie's heart yet AGAIN and Miranda is still working on opening up and embracing her emotional side.

Despite the title, the person having the most sex in the film is Samantha's male neighbor, who she watches through the window every night. Prudish Charlotte comes in second, but otherwise, the film could almost have been called Sexless in the City. The resident vamp, Samantha is reduced to a voyeur, she herself garnering only one sex scene in the entire two-and-a-half hour film (which quite frankly, was a bit too long).

There were happy moments for sure, but much of the movie is as depressing and dark as the hair color Carrie dons to hideout during a particularly tough spell. Fortunately, alls well that ends well and most people will find the ending - in which the major characters are shown sharing a meal, laughing and enjoying life - very satisfying.

Scorecard:
Sex - C
Love - B
Fashion - A++
New York - A
Cocktail drinking - B
Fun moments - B
Hot men - A-
Friendships - A
Overall - B+

Words alone

“The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food!”

That will go down as the first phrase Peanut read.

Yes, that’s right, read.

Last week before our trip to Massachusetts, I bought them each two new books to occupy them in the car. But they were angels the whole way up and the new books remained zipped in my bag. At my mom’s house on Friday, I found them there and dug them out.

“Here,” I said, handing them to Peanut. “Some new books for you. Give me two minutes and I’ll read them to you.”

Peanut sat on the couch studying the covers of each one. When I returned to the room she proudly held one up and said excitedly, “MOMMY! I know what the title is to this one: “The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food.”

While I am constantly impressed with her vocabulary and knew full well she was quickly catching on to spelling and reading random site words, this revelation shocked me. To the best of my knowledge, I’d never reviewed any of those words with her. Berenstain? Really?

“Have you read that book at school?” I asked somewhat skeptically.

“No, Mommy.”

“Have you ever seen that book before, anywhere?”

“No.”

“How did you know what it said then?”

“I just looked at the words. See?” And then she proceeded to sound out each one for me. She also proceeded to sound out the words on the covers of the next three books: The Little Lamb, What is a Princess? and The Monster at the End of this Book.

I’m amazed – constantly – by the strides my children make. Not because they’re so exceptional or amazing, but because it’s unfathomable to me that they were babies only yesterday.

Now, they read and count and know a bunch of Spanish words. They run and leap and tell jokes that make no sense, but that are hilarious to them. They laugh and defy and pretend. They imagine and worry and throw giant hugs around my neck. They love and cry and do cartwheels (sort of) in the grass.

Come to think of it, they are exceptional and amazing, at least to me. I can’t wait until they come home from school, so I can tell them that.

High fives for meme

I was tagged by the fabulous Binky to participate in this meme so here goes.

First, the rules:

1. Each player answers the questions about themselves.

2. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment letting them know they've been tagged and to ask them to play along and to read your blog.



Five things I was doing 10 years ago
:
1. Living in sin
 with Mark
2. Working in New York City
3. 
Getting ready to be a bridesmaid in my friend Tracy’s wedding
4. Buying a three-family house
5. Getting engaged (December 1998)

Five things on my to-do list today :

1. Folding an enormous mountain of laundry.
2. Watching "Into the Wild."
3. Snuggling with my husband throughout #2.
4. Eating something really good for dinner.
5. Finishing a work project that has been a thorn in my side for two weeks.

Five snacks I enjoy
:
1. Chocolate
2. Bananas
3. Yogurt
4. String cheese
5. Pria bars

Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:

1. Buy (or build) our dream house here in the greater NYC area.
2. Buy (or build) vacation homes in Colorado and Hawaii.
3. Travel (non-commercial air only of course.)
4. Hire a staff that includes a chef, maid, driver and personal trainer.
5. Give lots away to numerous charities to help people, animals and the environment.

Five of my bad habits
:
1. I have a wicked sweet tooth.
2. I weigh myself two or three times a day and let what I see on the scale influence my mood.
3. I get snappish when I haven't had a good night's sleep. 

4. I procrastinate.

5. I shop too much.

Five places I have lived
:
1. Clarksburg, MA
2. Utica, NY (where the average snowfall is almost 99 inches and it rains 2/3 of the year. Seriously.)
3. Amsterdam, NY
4. Ridgewood, NJ
5. Weehawken, NJ

Five jobs I've had
:
1. Assembly line in a box factory 

2. Employee in a department store
3. Newspaper reporter
4. Public relations account executive
5. Employee communications manager for a major electronics corporation

Five bloggers I tag to go next:
1. A Madison Mom
2. Part of the Miracles
3. Laryssa
4. True Tales of Little B
5. Mayberry Mom

You know you want it . . .

It’s that time of year again!

Time for my annual review of the Oscar fashions! Woo hoo! And this year, I’ve extended my reach tremendously! Unlike last year when I had a mere 25 readers, I’ve just about quadrupled that.

(Hello Albuquerque! Yo Richmond Hill, Ontario! Hey Wausau, Wisconsin! And bon jour Saint-Hyacinthe, Quebec!)

Hear me as I channel the genie from Aladdin.

Phenomenal cosmic powers!

OK, totally joking there. But welcome one, welcome all!

So who watched Sunday night? The show? Fairly boring, but the red carpet served up its usual variety of the fabulous and what-was-she-thinkings?

Before I bestow my judgment upon Hollywood’s elite, I must first point out that it appears at least one of them is a loyal reader. I am totally, one-hundred-and-fifty-six-point-nine-eight-four convinced that John Travolta read my blog and stole my husband’s summer haircut.

Mark, July 2007



John Travolta, February 2008



Can you believe that? I mean really, are we talking separated at birth here? Only, I think Mark’s looks better (I do, really; I’m not just saying that because he’s my husband and not some crazy jet-flying, scientologist actor. Mark’s definitely looks better).

However, as hard as he tries, Mark will never quite have Travolta’s famous dance moves. (Sorry honey).



OK, now onto the fashions. Let’s start with something positive.

Jennifer Garner



Dear Jennifer, I am sorry that Gary Busey assaulted you and slobbered all over your neck, but I really can’t blame him. The necklace! The hair! The dress! If I were there, I might have been tempted to do the same thing. Seriously. Mwah!

Helen Mirren



I said it last year, and I’ll say it again, she looks better than most women half her age. I love this color, love the sleeves, love, love, LOVE! Long live the Queen!

Jennifer Hudson



Oy. Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer.

Last year, you walked the red carpet with a giant scrap of tinfoil on your back and this year your boobs look like two basketballs stuffed into a tube sock. How unfortunate. Because really, the rest of the dress is fantastic. The white is gorgeous, the flowy skirt is positively goddess like. But the squashy, mushed up thing going on with your breasts overpowers all of that.

Three words: Fire. Your. Stylist.

Amy Adams



How cute is she? I just want to take her home and bake her an apple pie. (Or maybe she should make me one?)

Kerri Russell



Didn’t this woman just have a baby? Because when I saw her, the first thing I thought of was those commercials about how 35-cents a day will buy a starving child in Africa a bowl of rice and how I really wanted to send her my 35 cents. Good God, eat something! The second thing I thought of: Never match your dress to your skin tone. And the final thing: Stand up straight, you’re on the freakin’ red carpet for cripe sakes!


Colin Farrell



Is Colin having trouble getting work? Because if I didn’t know any better, I swear he’s primed to do one of those Geico caveman commercials.

Tilda Swinton



All I have to say is that it is a REALLY good thing the Oscar is based on talent and not fashion sense. Is that a hefty bag? And the . . . . makeup (or lack of it?) YOU ARE AT THE OSCARS! Put on some freakin’ lipstick and a little powder. Good God, I don’t even go to the grocery store without a little lip gloss. What are these people thinking?!?

Cate Blanchett



Cate is usually one of my favorites, but I just wasn’t feeling it this year. The color is pretty, but the hair is too casual. I’m giving her a free pass, pregnancy makes you do all kinds of crazy stuff. But next year? I’m expecting the usual Cate back.

Anne Hathaway



Last year, I said she was wearing an 80s prom dress. This year, the dress is better, but it looks like a high school dropout from the 80s in her first year of beauty school did her makeup. Le sigh. She’s such a knockout too. Pity.

Johnny Depp



Oh Johnny, you are one entertaining piece of work both on and off screen. I’m chalking this up to either creative genius or you just plain old don’t care. Either way, I still love you.

Penelope Cruz



Heeeellllloooo gorgeous. Now this? Is what the Oscars are all about.

And with that, I leave you. Thoughts? Agree? Disagree? Come on Minnesota! Tell me what you think Holtsville! Canada, got anything to add, eh?