UBerlin

Now here's something I can get behind this Friday . . .

R.E.M.'s UBerlin video on youtube. Can't get enough.

In my head I walk down the street like that.

Don't Care

I care about one thing about this whole event . . .

The Dress.

If I were her, I would wear something not white, thereby changing forever the bride and white thing. Don't you think? If she were to wear, say, celadon, the entire bridal fashion industry would change forever.

Other than that, don't care. And I lived there. But if you do care, and you can't get enough. Go over to kappaprep.com. She cares deeply.

It Might Be Time

. . . for some professional dermatological intervention.

Although I don't live in Texas, most of my friends here are from Texas. You can say what you want about them being high maintenance, but they are certainly very friendly and I love them. However, they are high maintenance.

I will not leave the house without makeup or heels (unless I am running, then makeup, no heels), but that's about where it ends. Several of my friends have been getting botox since they were 30. One of my friends, the one I love the best, just recently pointed out to me that she had gotten botox and that I should try it WHILE SHE WAS STARING AT MY FOREHEAD.

Do you know why I have wrinkles on my forehead? Because its very large and I am frequently confused. I've had lines on my forehead forever. And do you know why I have laugh lines? Because I crack myself up and I never have my sunglasses when I need them.

My wrinkles just don't bother me. I put a little lotion on them to keep them from getting, you know, deeper, but I have never thought that I need to do something to erase them. Until today.

Today my paralegal was talking to me about how dry it is here and how it effects her skin. It gives her lines, she says, like mine. Sigh. I'm guessing the great big zit on my forehead isn't fooling anybody that I am a teenager. Skin. It's a stupid organ. I do have parts of my body that I like. I'm not trying to be all negative. My skin has just never been my favorite part.

Exhausted and Scared

In the last three weeks there have been two violent crimes in our neighborhood. In the past, there was a crime right across the street.

It's not fair for me to want a dog. My husband is allergic to dogs. He claims that he is even allergic to the hypoallergenic ones.

But it's also not fair for him to state no dogs, and then to travel all the time.

We have an alarm, but God forbid it ever goes off, I'll just know someone is in my house. So I lay there until late into the night debating the possible danger in every single sound. A squirrel on the roof? Someone going through trash?

I've been pretty patient and supportive about all of this being on my own. But I'm about done. I don't want to put my husband in a position of having to put up with a dog if it makes him sick, but I'm tired of being scared. I love this house like crazy, but maybe we need to move. I need the sleep.

I'm Too Sexy For My Monday

Despite feeling hollow like the bunny yesterday (must be said in your head to the tune of Hungry Like the Wolf), I was having LOTS of interesting things happening on the outside.

First of all, my hairline was literally LITERALLY oozing from the second degree burn on my scalp from the weekend's color processing. (You should see my hair color though - so good!)

Next, my new black cigarette pants were getting stuck on my calves. It wasn't until I walked by a window outside later in the afternoon on a coffee run that I realized I had been walking around all day with my pants stuck half way up my legs.

My v-neck/old thin bra combination was making me look very booby, and not in a good way. My cardigan hung open to the side, only to emphasize that I was cold.

Finally, my statement necklace around which my whole outfit was based was itching my neck like crazy. I couldn't take it off because, when I did, it had left big red welts that weren't unlike the ringworm I got when I adopted that stray cat in university.

Very nice! Very nice!

Hollow Like the Bunny

My husband and I got in a disagreement on Saturday evening and haven't resume speaking yet. Accordingly, I am just scooped out. I got nothing.

How Lucky Lucky Can Be

In all honesty, I don't expect or want A THING for mother's day. Because do you know how lucky I am?

I had a mother who epitomized grace and who was my best friend. I have a husband who loves me unconditionally. I have a son who is healthy, smart and empathetic. I leave my job every day shaking my head that someone pays me to do what I love.

I do not take any of it for granted. Every day I am thankful. Every day I acknowledge how lucky I am. Despite the fact that my husband hates puppies and I can't have a dog, and that 10 year old children spoiled by one's ex-husband can be challenging, I still know how lucky I am.

Also, today, I took myself for pho and then went to the Safeway and got hot pink Peeps and Diet Dr. Pepper and I can think of two books I can't wait to download onto the Nook. Mmmmmm. Gluttony!

Mother's Day Hint

From time to time I fall in utter lust with something extraordinarily tacky.
How great would I be in this Kate Spade Wish You Were Here idiom bangle?
Pretty darn great.
Blogher has rules against endorsing/promoting things over $40. This is over $40. But this is not an endorsement post. This is a Mother's Day hint post. I think my husband has stopped reading my blog though.
Let's test shall we? Hi Honey! I just gave all your VT gear to the vagrants in the park - it's okay yes?

Insuring the Birkin

Last weekend I was at a fundraiser when one of my friends asked me if I insured my handbags.

After my head was done exploding, I collected myself. Who am I to judge. I fully support my friend if she believes a Hermes Birkin bag spoke to her. Lesser things have spoken to me and I had to bring them home.

But here's the thing. I have never actually seen my friend's Birkin. If she actually used the thing, maybe then she should consider insuring it. Also, I don't think that the thugs who might break into her house are going to go, "Dude, We Hit the Jackpot. Look here - A Birkin!!!!"

Also, I had to actually google Birkin when I got home. Oh I've heard about the elusive Birkin, but I couldn' t have told you what one looked like. It's a good thing my friends have me to keep them grounded.

How I Knew He Was the One

Last Saturday I was at the Target picking up some gift tags when I noticed that Target also had really cute wrapping paper. I didn't need any. The gifts were already wrapped. However, I couldn't resist picking up a pink and red roll, all kate spadey and perfect for gifts for my girlie friends, a lime green and white roll, unisex and perfect with a wide array of ribbon, and also a tan, gold, silver and black roll, very art deco-ey. Then I got several rolls of coordinating curling ribbon.

When I got home I put them all out on the bed and called my husband to admire with me. "Look! I bought all this wrapping paper for no good reason!"

Later that afternoon he asked if I wanted him to take the wrapping paper down to the basement. That's when I knew what I had to do. I went to World Market, got a basket, and arranged a wrapping paper bouquet that sits in the corner of our room. Mmmmmm wrapping paper bouquet. If only I hadn't dropped that Canon camera I could show you.

Anyway, on our third date, my husband handed me a gift when he picked me up. It was a wrapped Elvis Costello CD. It was a WRAPPED Elvis Costello CD. He didn't just hand it to me plain. He didn't put it in a gift bag. He wrapped it. He probably thinks it was the fact that he was taking me to Aspen to actually see Elvis Costello that sealed the deal. But I am much more simple than that. He had me at wrapping paper.

My Confession

I am sucked dry, raw and in need of a weekend. By myself.

I feel terribly guilty and I am wondering what is wrong with me.

All I did was spend a day with a 10 year old. But at the end there was nothing left of me. Why is it so hard? Why can I not just have a day with him. Why does it have to be an event. It takes lots of effort, plans, stamina. We cannot seem to have just a weekend day.

Other people cannot feel this way, or they would never have more than one. Or maybe that is the trick, to have more than one so they have each other. But seriously. Love - yes. Frustrated to tears - oh yes.

There. That is my confession. I did not have a good day yesterday.

Curse You Cumin

I bought the expensive cumin because we all know that expensive = good. With it I was going to make my favorite vegetarian tortilla soup. Mmmmmm tortilla soup with melty cheese (vegetarian, not vegan) and cool avocado chunks and soggy tortilla chips. Mmmmmm.

But that damn cumin was bad. It was off - it was pungently sicky sweet. Someone may have switched it with dried sport sock sweat. It was very sad. And because we had a full night of franchise stuff, there was no time to run to the grocery store or out to dinner.

And I know you are thinking OH MY GOD GET OVER IT, but the thing is, my meals have been big huge disappointments lately, both at home and in restaurants. Oh I've got chocolate covered Peeps. Enough to make a meal out of them. But once we cross that line - once we actually make a meal of chocolate covered Peeps, we might as well give into pants with elastic waistbands and long flowy shirts in crinkle/no-iron fabric and bad chunky costume jewelry. And 40 is too young for that my friends it just is. Damn cumin.

I couldn't tell you a thing about Jane Eyre.

There is a constant stream of people that walk into my office wanting to know if they can do certain things. I DON'T KNOW. And its hard because usually what I am doing is not locating a regulation that says they can, but going through every possible source I can think of to determine that there is nothing that says they can't.
It hurts my head.
Do you know what else hurts my head. I read Jane Eyre three times and I couldn't tell you what it was about. Well, someone named Jane, I'm guessing. And if a I recall correctly there was a scene where Jane was hiding behind a curtain reading a book about birds? Maybe? What I do remember is that my freshman year lit professor at Clark University also taught at Tufts, and she would tell us all the time how we were less smart than the Tufts kids. Accordingly, I was not inspired to focus on Jane Eyre, having basically been told that I was not smart enough to understand it. And perhaps she was right. Because I couldn't tell you a thing about Jane Eyre. But I see they've made a movie. There's hope yet.

An Easy Lover

What? What is this Culinary Brilliance. Chocolate Covered Peeps. I have 6 packages, yet that it is not enough. It will never be enough.

Selective Hearing.

Put your clothes in the hamper. Yes you do. It's that basket in your room.
Pick up your toys.
Don't sit with your knee up at the table. Do you see anybody else with their friggin' knees on the table.
Eat nicely please.
Move your shoes, coat and backpack from the middle of the kitchen. The very middle - we could not have found a surveyor to find the exact middle of the damn kitchen so accurately.
Brush AND floss.
The sea monkeys DID NOT splash that water out of their tank.
Gather your school stuff.
Seriously, that's not a finger food.
Pocket frogs is NOT educational and it DOES count as your computer time.

Every damn day. Yet I only had to tell him my iTunes account password once.

Do You Know What You Can't Do

You can't rent a movie from the iTunes store then put your iPad in airplane mode to trick it into thinking that you suspended time.
Accordingly, I will never know whether Reese picked Owen Wilson or Paul Rudd. And this is probable the first and last time you will ever hear me say this, but Owen Wilson was actually less annoying than Paul Rudd here. But I will never know how it ends. Oh we could rent it again, but I am not willing to let iTunes win this one.
Speaking of time, we showed up to a run a race a week early. Accordingly, we won.

Mmmm Friday.

One of the things about being an in-house lawyer is that you don't really practice in one area of the law. You do it all. Of course, I have outhouse lawyers at my disposal, but a great many issues require immediate attention. Also, I was hired as a lawyer, not an outhouse lawyer manager. I am expected to practice law. Accordingly, I make up a lot of law. And making up the law is quite tiring so I, for one, am very glad it is Friday. I still have not found Built to Last, but I did find Sting's All This Time which had been missing but which I wanted to find after reading Broken Music, his autobiography. When We Dance is a really beautiful song. You know how when you are in love with someone there just seems to be no words that adequately describe it - well, I was always impressed at how When We Dance seems to nail it on the head. DAMN YOU BLOGGER WHAT IS WITH THE INABILITY TO PUT LINES BETWEEN PARAGRAPHS. Wordpress investigations to begin this weekend.

Thursday's Random Observations

1. I cannot find the Grateful Dead Built to Last CD. Thursday and Saturday mornings are the perfect time for the Built to Last CD. Alas, it has disappeared and I whatever else I find to listen to on the way to work this morning will not be the same. I smell an iTunes download in my near future . . . 2. It has occurred to me that it would be cheaper if I had a crack addiction than a Starbucks addition. However, I can do Starbucks without doing crack, but I doubt I could do crack without doing Starbucks. So I guess I'll stick with the Starbucks. 3. If Blogger doesn't fix its paragraph issue, I am switching to another blogging service.

Signs

Recently my son's friend lost his dad and one of our high school friends took his own life. I cannot reconcile how I don't believe there is really a heaven, in so far as there are human forms walking around up there, but I fully believe that my son's friend's dad and my high school friend are absolutely somewhere with my mother (and we aren't even going to get into the fact that suicide is considered by some to be a sin). They are all together - two because of cancer, one because of suicide. I feel my mom. But I haven's seen any signs. I usually feel her when I am in the car. She is sitting right beside me. Probably this is me willing her to be there. But if I could see something, I would know. Over Thanksgiving we had my son's friend over to play, as his mother requested because this little guy needed a break from all the cancer a his house. My son and his friend made paper airplanes and aimed them at our roof. For a good long time there were airplanes on our roof and in our yard. I couldn't bring myself to pick them up. Perhaps it was because I knew what this little boy was about to go through - that his life would never be the same and there would always be a before and an after. And I wanted to hang on to the before for him. His dad died the day after Christmas. And, by then, the airplanes were all gone. Every time I walked around the house to get to my car I would look for them. I looked desperately as I wasn't ready to give up. But finally I gave up. People go. Keeping things can't change that. This weekend, after five months of rain and snow and wind, I opened the door to one of those paper airplanes on my porch. I have no doubt at all this was sent by one of the three, just to let us know they are here.

Finally, I Found Drinking Glasses

We need new drinking glasses. When we combined houses we acquired my husband's pink ones. Pink. That were a wedding present from his first marriage. Accordingly, we need new drinking glasses. I could go to Crate and Barrel and pick some from among the wall of drinking glasses, all perfectly capable of holding water, but I want Drinking Glasses not drinking glasses. I love when you can find everyday objects that are things of beauty. Ergo, Jonathan Adler Drinking Glasses. This picture does not do them justice, and you can't lift a picture of one from jonathanadler.com. But the gray one - its gray on the outside, white on the inside. An object of desire indeed.

What is with Blogger Not Making Paragraphs?

On Saturday it was 89 degrees followed by snow on Sunday. I crap you negative. It is a wonder my sinuses don't explode. But you didn't come here for the retrospective weather report. Have you ever known anybody that is about a month away from a need for an intervention? Tough stuff. However, have you ever watched that show about people with their crazy addictions and thought, for example, that you can totally see why somebody would want to sleep with a hair dryer. I get that. Lots of white noise. Toasty warm. Can't go there. Must not try it. Must not try it. Also, speaking of people who might need an intervention, my husband happened to be travelling to the city with the number 1 Franchise in terms of sales. Two out of the other 3 people we spoke with recently told us to run. This guy, this number one sales guy, would surely be all excited and telling us how great it is. I mean, this guy makes bank. He told my husband to run. (I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, didn't you check this all out before you signed on. Yes - but under a different location concept [mall v. free standing]). Then there are the two venture capitalist guys who are now opening their 3rd store. I mean, obviously its working for them. We need a sign. Because, no, 3 out of 4 people telling us to run hasn't been our sign. I mean, franchisees are an odd lot. One complained about having to send money back to the mother ship. Hello. It is a franchise. Others we question their location. At some point, if you decide to go on, you stop talking to these people.