Drat

According to all the bridal magazines, I am waaaaaaaay behind schedule in my wedding planning.

Not only will I need at least 16 months to prepare the ceremony/reception/whatnot, but I should have been dreaming of this special day since...roughly...age 5. And thinking of myself as a pretty princess probably wouldn't hurt either.

Say it with me: I'm a pretty princess! I'm a pretty princess! I'm a pretty princess!

Pending

To all future guests of our upcoming wedding celebration: Save A Date.

Not Save The Date...because, you know, we'd have to have a date and place for you to do that, and that would mean that various locales/vendors would be returning my calls and emails.

But no.

Save a date. Because the wedding is happening, it's just not clear when. Or where. (City Hall/Justice of the Peace, anyone?)

How about you just do me a favor and reserve, oh, say, Autumn 2008, m'kay?

Thanks.

Mama Needs A Reception Site

The good news is that there are plenty of spaces available this fall in NYC in which to get married, and celebrate same.

The bad news is that we don't have a spare $50,000.

Just A Short While Later...

...my life is suddenly about my sparkly ring, bridal magazines, and, apparently, pink nail polish.

Afianced

On Friday evening, just one day shy of our 10 month anniversary, B asked me to marry him. We were at the site of our first date.

Of course, I said yes!

I promise not to turn the blog into a wedding journal. Too much.

Poor? No.

Note to self: it is a bad idea to review your debit card expenses to see just how you got to $4.24.

Were the Pinkberry, pedicure, and hair products necessary expenditures? Probably not.

$4.24

This is the balance in my checking account until I get paid tomorrow.

Unless, of course, the 'economic stimulus' payment from the government is deposited early. I have to be honest, though - at this point it's looking less like an incentive to help the economy, and more like me being able to buy lunch.

(I guess it teaches me not to be the tough guy that decides to pay for everyone's drinks at trivia night.)

I Forgot My Mantra

Yesterday, I had the day off and B was able to leave work at noon. It was gorgeous outside, so we went to our favorite spring/summer restaurant.

As we sat by the water, drinking in the sunshine (literally drinking in the sunshine - corona for me, pina colada for him), it became a moment, a feeling of being truly happy. Even Stewie seemed to pick up on the contentedness, and stoppped tugging on his leash, trying to play with kill pigeons. B and I smiled at one another. "We are so lucky to be living in New York", I said.

This morning, as we squished onto the downtown 3 and two of our fellow passengers engaged in an argument over personal space, and all the noise and energy and challenge of the city swirled around us, I tried to access that blissful mood.

B noted the sour look on my face and started humming "I Love New York".

What I'm Reading

...and thus, so should you.

Fragile

I decided, somewhat rashly, to wear flip-flops to work today.

It's too cold, and I need a pedicure.

Mistake.

Crowded Hizzouse

B and I went to see Crowded House at The Fillmore last night. They closed with this, which was quite lovely:



Only bad part of the night? B couldn't use his "UNcrowded House" joke, since it was a sold out show.

A Bad Case of the Mondays

My short morning run was sluggish and draggy and uninspiring, made worse by the rememberance that I ran 13.1 miles at this time last year.

Then, some fucking clown decided to close his wet umbrella directly above my head on his way into the subway station.

And I'm tired. The exhausted kind, brought on by waking up at 3:27 am for absolutely no reason.

So, I've decided that this day is good for little else than eating soup (tomato - delicious).

My Worst Nightmare

Clearly, the apocalypse is upon us.

In Between

I have reasons lately, for tottering on the edge of excitement.

There's nothing that I can fully write about yet (other than to post semi-cryptic blog entries) other than to say that I'm feeling pre-excited about the possbility of both of these things...and I'm holding a space for being more excited should they pop up.

I'd say I'm somewhere between happy/fluttery/anticipatory - and jumping up and down.

Social. Work.

When, in a social situation, someone is making slightly deragatory remarks about the population of clients that you work with (and you yourself are a survivor of the particular social problem that this person is referencing) - what is the appropriate reaction?

Because, you know, it's hard to turn it all off when I leave the office at the end of the day.

On the flip side, who wants to hang out with Social Justice Girl?

Fage Rage

When attempting to drain the liquid that accumulates on the top of yogurt, do not tilt the container too much. The incorrect angle will result in a) wasting $1.79, b) losing your afternoon snack, and c) tears.

Passover Is So Over

- The General, B's brother, and B's nephew arrived early. Early enough to witness The Removal of the Schmaltz *and* Ridiculouschick: Unshowered.
- Stewie enjoyed about 20 minutes of freedom before he was banished into the gated kitchen on permanent time out for snapping at B's nephew.
- The matzoh ball soup was a definite cause of stress. Who knew you had to mix the batter, let it set/chill for 2 hours, form into balls, boil for 1 hour, remove, set/chill for another hour, then add to broth? Answer: plenty of people knew. I would've known, had I glanced at the recipe at any other time than last minute.
- Even my Dad knew, based upon on segment he saw that morning on CBS.
- The General seemed to have a good time. Sure there were a few instances of orders being barked ("Where are the small plates for the gefilte fish! You can't put them on the meat plates! Get some small plates!") but really, given her nickname, can you expect anything less?
- Everyone brought dessert, anticipating that B's first attempt at macaroons would be a disaster.
- Happily, they were wrong.
- V, our designated Haggadah reader, gave up after about 1 page, due to boredom (his and ours) and lack of attention (ours).
- The charoset was lovely, despite the addition of truly horrible supermarket sweet wine. (How good could it have been when the label on the bottle has to stipulate that the wine 'contains no fruit juice'?)
- When it was all over, B and I collapsed on the couch, laughing over our favorite moments of the day and making plans for next year.
- Yes, we're just that crazy/stupid.

Goy-a, Oh Boy-a

(Thanks to The Reporter's SIL for post title.)

B. and I REALLY got a lot done last night - we hung pictures from our trip to California *and* put together our new furniture. I guess having family over is a real motivator to make our apartment seem like we really actually live there.

Today, I need to go to Fairway to complete the rest of the grocery list (read: the items that B couldn't find the first time around), stop by a bookstore to pick up copies of the Haggadah (you should have seen what that looked like when I tried to spell it out phonetically), make sure the schmaltz separated from the chicken stock(I haven't looked at it since I put it in the fridge at 1:36 am Wednesday morning), and compose the charoset (note to self: resist guzzling the red wine in the process).

TecmoBowl, 1992

Last night, B finally joined Facebook, so we promptly began to play Scrabulous, which is just about as addicting as Facebook itself.

(As noted previously, it is quasi totally ridiculous to be sitting in the same room with your boyfriend, communicating via computer, but I digress.)

Our game steadily progressed along(he's absolutely kicking my ass) until this afternoon, when our new furniture was delivered unassembled, and there was some additional Passover shopping to be done (The General had demands) and then there's his comedy gig in the Jerz, and he won't be home until much later, thus leaving me at a standstill.

Would it be out of line to call him at the club to demand that he makes his next move?

Rock On

When, after spending a day with your family (as we did Saturday) while your niece was having one of her "difficult" days and your parents are, well, your parents and you get back to the city too late to do any of the things that you were hoping to do (mostly, the gym) and you're running late, making The Librarian wait for you, and you have no time for dinner, and you know how cranky you can get when you're hungry...

...Stoli Razz and soda and rockin' out to this song can be helpful:


Note: Joe's Pub looked a little different from this video - thank doG.

Perfectionism

In typical ridiculouschick fashion, I've gone completely overboard with Passover. What started out as a simple catered meal has turned into matzoh ball soup (including the chicken stock), potato casserole, charoset, roasted asparagus, and macaroons - all homemade.

Oh, and we'll also be roasting a chicken because The General is afraid we won't have enough food. (If pushed, I can admit that I'm afraid too.)

Cooking, and trying to make things perfect isn't new to me. But it's hard to know what I'm aiming for because I've never made most of these things before. For example, matzoh balls: should they be small? large? chewy? al dente? When asked, B shrugs, grins, and starts singing the "we should have ordered from Zabar's" song.

Pft.

Next up: attempting to bring the apartment to levels of cleanliness that it has never achieved before.

Not So Much Oy, Not So Much Vey

The update on Passover is...it's totally fine (as long as I can make chicken stock at some point this weekend). Got a recipe for matzoh ball soup from one friend, kuggel/kugel and charoset recipes on their way from two other friends...and I've notified B that it's his job to make the flourless chocolate cake.

The Lawyer will be coming (with a bottle of wine) to laugh at me share in the festivities.

One nagging worry: haven't heard from B's mom (whom I like to call 'The General') about her expectations for the day...so things might have to shift after that conversation.

DOMINATION

Last night - actually got my butt out to Conker Hill for trivia.

Here's what I took away:

- Renewed appreciation for the Damn Yankees, due to a question in the music category and their overall awesomeness
- A nagging and persistent need to look up this painting, also due to a question (but not so much with the awesomeness)
- 2 pints of Guinness, 1 game of Big Buck Hunter
- Admiration for B's random knowledge

oh, and

- A free bottle of premium vodka, because WE WON! (I'm probably much more excited about this than I need to be.)

My New BFF Thinks I'm A Spammer

The Facebook obsession continues unabated (you can play online Scrabble! and find your (now)fat ex-boyfriend from high school!) with one difficulty: this morning, while trying to add another friend, I was ordered to desist. I guess I've made too many requests, and they've shut off that functionality for now.

Even Facebook knows I have a problem.

Home

I was supposed to go to Pennsylvania this weekend with B (he's doing comedy shows there) but ended up staying in the city, due to dog care issues. (Read: there was no-one available to walk Stewbert.)

It's been kinda nice, having a (relatively) plan-free weekend. When you have no social activities, you make them yourself. By joining Facebook. And becoming obsessed with it.

Fool

Since book club happened to be meeting on April 1, L. and I decided that we would attempt some hijinks (possibly wacky). We giggled over what we would do, and how it would sound, and what to say, and then giggled some more.

The night of, I waited for an appropriate break in the conversation. It was perfect, because someone had just asked me how my vacation to California had been. "Well", I said, "we took a little detour to Vegas..."

I looked around. They were all smiling. Starting to look excited.

"...and got married..."

Exclamations of surprise, and...joy?

"...and we're expecting our first child in November."

Wait, this wasn't right. They were all beaming. Happy for me. Some were starting to get up to give me hugs. L. was laughing so hard that she had her head buried in her lap. I had expected shock and silence...clearly, everyone at book club is waaaaay too nice.

Before I could get any deeper in, I came clean. Which was probably perfect timing, because, if I'd waited any longer, they'd have started organizing a baby shower.

Oy Vey

Somewhere in the craziness of last weekend, during lunch with B and B's mom, I agreed to host Passover.

Any recipes or pointers would be greatly appreciated. Or, I could google 'kugel'.

Madness. Madness, I Tell You

Just back from a couple of days in the Jerz where I:

- decorated 16 cupcakes with specially tinted pink icing *and* finely chopped raisins that spelled 'EAT ME' (Alice in Wonderland birthday theme...don't ask.)
- was the special helper at pre-school for 16 hyperactive three and four year olds
- changed a gazillion diapers (approximately)
- played about 10 billion games of 'Naughty Barbie' (Ew, no, not like that. The 4 year old version. Pervs.)
- helped to make The Peanut a special birthday breakfast

and, last but not least,

- continued my unbroken streak of reverting to a surly teenager immediately upon spending more than an hour in my parent's home.

Wiki Wiki Wiki Waaaa

I have a new addiction and, OH GOD NO, it's Pinkberry. I had successfully resisted the craze until Tuesday, and since then, I've stopped each night on my way home to get progressively larger sizes. (To add to the madness, going to the closest Pinkberry necessitates using a slightly farther subway station, with a longer walk home.)

So, my favorite is the green tea flavor but certainly not with any healthy fruit, as pictured above. No, there's some secret not-on-the-menu ingredient called "mochi" that is sometimes described as rice cakes by my new best friends at Pinkberry. I don't know quite what they are (but they are delicious!) and since there is no published information on them, I did a little Internets research.

And found this on Wikipedia:

Mochi is very sticky and somewhat tricky to eat. After each new year, it is reported in the Japanese media how many people die from choking on mochi. The victims are usually elderly.

Awesome. So now I have a new habit which along with being somewhat expensive, could eventually result in death.

I might as well take up smoking again.

Adults

Last night, a small miracle took place in my apartment.

Here's how it went down: B and I had a slight disagreement on Sunday that we were able to calmly, coherently, and respectfully talk through. We both came out on the other side of the conversation feeling that we had been heard and understood, *and* that we were happy to have had said conversation.

There may be hope for emotional maturity yet.

Update

Been a little busy lately, watching BabyTV.

Is It Lame...

...to talk to your sister-in-law about how exhausted you are and how difficult it is to adjust back to east coast time/daylight savings time after your vacation when, just 7 days prior, she has given birth (via c-section, no less) to 2 babies, and is breastfeeding every 3 hours?

Never mind. I don't need an answer.

Vacation - Day 6 - L.A./Dana Point

Eating at In-And-Out Burger was a priority.

So was gawking at rich people (at least their houses).

At the end of the day, we very happily turned in our rental car and checked into the resort that was hosting MC & JJ's wedding. Above, the view from our room.

Vacation - Day 5 - Santa Barbara/L.A.

We had lunch in Santa Barbara (no pictures, for some reason) and drove the rest of the way down the coast to Los Angeles. Stopped for "dinner" at Neptune's Net where I became acquainted with the poor man's version of a chelada - Bud Light and Clamato in a 24 oz. tallboy. It was DELICIOUS.

We made it to our hotel in Venice just in time to walk out on the pier and watch the sunset.

Vacation - Yurt Gets Its Own Post!

The Yurt remains my favorite part of the trip. It's hard to describe just how peaceful it felt there, in between the ocean and the mountains in our own little perfect circle...gazing up at tree tops through the skylight.

Vacation - Day 4 - Hwy1

What could I possibly...
...say about Hwy1...
...that these pictures dont?

Vacation - Day 3 - S.F.

We happened upon Ghirardelli, who happened to be having a sale of a 50 piece bag of chocolate. Chocolate for breakfast! Chocolate all day!
Heading to "The Rock"
Welcome to "The Rock" (I bet everyone who visits Alcatraz says that when they arrive, and btw., my Scottish accent? Sucks.)
And a return to the Hotel Del Sol for a nap following our day-long chocolate sugar buzz.

Vacation - Day 2 - Napa/S.F.

Working it and owning it at Clos Pegase.
The view from Sterling Vinyards.
Not that this picture is any indication, but we had lunch in Calistoga.
Sunset, taken from the car on the way into San Francisco.

Vacation - Day 1 - Napa

B, stylin' and profilin' as we played bocce at G&B's friend's house in the hills overlooking Napa Valley.

Unsurprisingly, my team won both games.

The Greatest Invention of Our Time

Seriously. Bud Light and Clamato? Genius.
(Platter O' Fried Food? Not bad either.)

Present

Back in NYC, after a week in Cali and a brief stop in The Jerz to meet my twin nephews!

Well, That Settles It

I think we have to move to California.

California Bound

Don’t worry, hey, no need for you to hide among the trees
Come into the light and you’ll be free
Don’t scurry, hey, it’s such a lonely life up in the hills
The valley’s gonna cure your every ill
Don’t worry, hey, I know that you are lost but you’ll be found
God willing we are California bound
God willing we are California bound

No, I never will hate you
I just want to show you the one truth
And spread my love all around

Don’t worry, don’t bring yourself down
Don’t let your mind chase you like a hound
Don’t worry, don’t bring yourself down
We’re coming today to save your town

No worries, heys, I know tomorrow brings the golden sun
Where there’s wine and olive fruit for everyone
Do hurry, hey, now spread the news from there upon your mound
God willing we are California bound
God willing I won’t put you in the ground

I'm Going With Insanity

So, as of 4 pm, B and I have called each other approximately 37 times to make weird noises, laugh hysterically, and then hang up.

Insanity? You Decide.

That pre-vacation too-little-time-too-much-to-do thing is kicking in, which is resulting in not a whole lot of sleep, which then leads to:

- Me prank calling B at work, making ridiculous noises and hanging up
- B and I laughing hysterically over the concept that we are sleeping in a "monkey bed". (Don't ask, it's a long story involving Tim Gunn and our inability to change our sheets.)
- B pretending to be Tim Gunn (voice, mannerisms) for an entire night
- Exploring how many ways we can use the word "yurt" in a sentence
- Laughing hysterically over that
- Making up conversations that either one of us is having with the dog re: his religious choices

I'm Annoying, It's True

Lately, I've taken on a slightly nagging tone with B, as I've harassed and harrangued him regarding our upcoming trip. There seems to be about a million odds and ends to clear up, and we're leaving Saturday. Conversations in our house sound like this:

r: "Did you book the rental car"?
b: "Ya".
r: "What about doing laundry before we go"?
b: I'll take care of it".
r: "Do you know where your swimsuit is? Do you think you should get it out now? Let it air out?"
b: [eyeroll]
r: "What about L.A.? What do you want to do in L.A."?
b: "Ummmm, eat at In N' Out Burger?"
r: "That's it? That's all you want to do in L.A.?"
b: [shrug]
r: "Well, when are we going to pack? How many suitcases are we bringing? Should we bring my laptop"?
b: [starts rocking back and forth and crying]
r: "I'm really excited for our first vacation together..."

This morning, I found myself debating whether it was more important to go to my ENT doctor to check the congestion/wheeziness I've ignored for the past 2 months *or* go get my hair cut.

Off Track

Just ran 3 miles, in my first running effort since being crushed by food poisoning/the flu last week. I'm way off my training schedule, and wondering if the half is going to happen.

Damn digestive system...

Great Moments In Dubbing History

When watching a movie on The CW11, "Jesus Christ" becomes "Cheese & Rice."

(This may have eclipsed a previous Moment captured by my brother a few years back where "Fucking Asshole" became "Viking Eggroll.")

Day 2, Sick

Failing to amuse myself with Gatorade, Cup O' Soup, or any one of our gazillion movie channels, I've chosen to harass the dog:

A Long Time Ago We Used To Be Friends, But I Haven't Thought of You Lately At All

The good news is that there is some movement on the legal stuff to get my money back from my ex.

The bad news is that (I think) my favorite burrito place served me up a portion of food poisoning last night.

As It Turns Out...

It is not very difficult to secure your very own yurt for one night. Yes, I will be able to fulfill my (one day old) dream of living in a yurt.

ridiculous: "I made the reservation! We're going to stay in the yurt!"
B: "Ugh."
ridiculous: "I'm the happiest girl in the world!"
B: "Ugh."
ridiculous: It's gonna be great!"
B: "Did it say something on that website about showers and restrooms being 'a short stroll away'? And they might have to loan us a flashlight?"
ridiculous: "It's gonna be great!"

Yurt! Yurt! Yurt!

After weeks of trying to ignore my low-level anxiety regarding our lack of planning for our upcoming trip to California (we're leaving March 8!), I've spent the morning researching options.

I'm hoping that we'll spend one night in Big Sur, even though B is not much of an outdoor enthusiast (Read: not at all, unless he happens to be camping on 23rd Street and 7th Avenue to audition for Last Comic Standing. And even then - not so much.)

I believe I've found a place that will make both of us happy: here! Right near the ocean...outdoor heated pool and jacuzzi...moderately priced. Best of all, accomodations are in "yurts". I'm not entirely clear what a "yurt" is, or what it stands for, but I know this: I absolutely HAVE to stay in one.

And then possibly have a t-shirt made that tells EVERYONE that I have slept in a "yurt".

I've Changed

This morning, I found myself completely aggravated and frustrated because I didn't get a seat on the shuttle bus.

Reread that.

Perhaps I should have been celebrating the fact that I can step right outside my building and board free transportation which takes me directly to the subway (the station even has an escalator that I refuse to walk down, because... I'm lazy I have my reasons).

Or that I now have doormen. And an elevator (3, in fact).

But no. There I was at 8:31 am, rolling my eyes, tapping my feet, and muttering to myself. Unbelievable.

The girl, apparently, has been taken out of Hell's Kitchen.

(And this post doesn't even address why I didn't get a seat, which was because I was late going downstairs because I took some extra time this morning whining to B about being crampy and not wanting to go to school or work.)

I Rule

Due to the impacts of a tequila-filled night at Arriba Arriba, I rescheduled my long run from Sunday to Monday. Unfortunately, I wasn't feeling too well yesterday either, due to a Sunday Supper @ Seven at LDK's house.

Nonetheless, I ran 4 miles. It wasn't pretty (in fact, it took until about an hour afterwards for me to stop sweating) and it wasn't fast - but I did it.

Yay.

Bad Idea Jeans

If you're already having a semi-crap-filled day, reading Ann Crittenden's thoughts on motherhood during your lunch hour isn't likely to improve your mood.

Upon blog review, last year at this time I made myself a cake. This is probably a better plan.

My Bad

A few weeks ago, I sent an email out to my possible running mates (OrangemanMike, The Reporter, Bons, and V) which included a training program and the information that we would need to start said training program on February 17.

I just looked at my calendar and (fo' shizz!) that was the wrong date.

Training should have started this week. So now I'm already behind .6 miles for Tuesday, and 2 miles today since I elected to stay in bed for an extra 30 minutes (oh! the luxury). And I'm not quite sure what the 4 mile run on Sunday will look like (hint: not good).

Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Daydreaming

After weeks of half-heartedly looking through ads on Craigslist, B and I decided yesterday that we are staying in our current apartment until October.

Now that we've committed for another 8 months, it makes perfect sense that I have been looking at apartment sales listings all afternoon and forwarding the particularly unattainable (a one bedroom on the UWS for only $697,000 with an $1100 monthly maintenance fee - sure!) along to B. I've fallen in love with at least 10 listings.

Why do I do this to myself?

UPDATE 5:05PM: I've just sent the 10-gazillionth listing to B via email with a subject line that reads "Save Me From Myself".

Anyone?

The Today Show was referencing the "Lundberg Report" in reference to gas prices (?) this morning.

All I can think of is Office Space.

Half Marathon

This morning, I ran 2.5 miles without stopping, which is the best I've done so far. I'm feeling pretty great, especially considering that my body is clearing up the remnants of last week's stomach virus.

Now I just need to multiply that by 5 (or roughly 5, I don't know, no-one can do that kind of math) and speed it up a bit, and I'll be ready for May 4. Hopefully with some running partners.

I'm Not There

I've been kinda...disconnected lately. I guess if I wanted to MHP myself, I'd call it slightly dissociative.

Drifting along to another subject...I'm newly (again) obsessed with this since it was used during one of the commercials during the Superbowl. Something about it recalls movement and change and life progressing along (as it does, with or without your help).

Bonus: a lovely little reminder of Six Feet Under, which I still mourn and miss.

Isn't He Lovely?

As we speak (uh, write) B is on line, waiting to audition for Last Comic Standing. It's raining, and he's not a happy camper. Literally.

To witness the enthralling live coverage on his blog, send me an email. I can't provide a direct link as he references me by my "government name".

Exciting News

As it turns out, I may be am the best girlfriend EVER!

Not only am I graciously weathering the stomach virus that B passed along, but last night, I devoted my full attention to watching Best in Show recovering, so I allowed him to provide me with Gatorade and various Cup o' Soups as I lay on the couch.

I know, I rock.

It's Love, Part 2

Today, after my 5th trip to the bathroom within 2 hours, paired with uncomfortable abdominal cramps, it became clear that B has passed last week's stomach malady along to me.

(Issuing a preemptive apology to our bathroom. The carnage continues.)

It's Love

On Saturday, B accompanied me to East Petersburg, PA to attend my 2nd cousin's wedding, which involved a 3 hour car trip each way. And my wacky Mennonite family. And no dancing, nor alcohol at the reception. And he had been sick for the past 4 days.

*then*

Last night when I took Stewie out for his final walk, I stepped in dog shit. While wearing my favorite pair of sneakers. The ones that have a lot of grooves in the sole. I had barely started whining about it when B volunteered to clean them for me.

So There!

This morning on the subway, B had the nerve to suggest that he might not audition for Last Comic Standing.

I repaid his hesitation by claiming that if he didn't try out, I would never speak to him again.

And then spent the rest of the subway ride doing just that.

Ha!

Par-tay

Next week, B is going to try out for Last Comic Standing. This will probably necessitate camping outside the audition venue for the night.

He expresses concern over weather, temperature, blah, blah, blah.

I, on the other hand, am trying to fully encourage him not only because he is amazingly funny...but because I'd have the apartment to myself.

Word.

Tip of the Day

If you hope to maintain your physical fitness, taking an 8 month "break" after completing a half marathon is not a good idea.

(Upon further reflection, the start of the downfall was the 2 week "break" that I allowed myself directly after the race. There's just no coming back from that.)

Day 1

I actually got my ass out of bed this morning and went to the gym before work. A few comments:

1. Why does it take so much effort to practice this kind of self-care? I feel like I'm constantly attending to what I'm eating and how much I'm working out. Getting myself back on track feels like it is becoming a 2nd job. (Ok, 3rd job if you count the private clients.)

2. It was much, much easier to get out of bed at 6:00 am when I was 30.

3. It was much, much easier to get out of bed at 6:00 am when I was living/sleeping alone.

4. I'm doing really well with my eating habits, although I have to consider that my office is being negatively impacted by my quest for lean proteins, in that it usually smells like tuna and hard-boiled egg whites.

5. It also looks weird when one of your co-workers is talking to you and you are hurriedly scooping the contents of a small can of tuna into your mouth as your rush betwen meetings and clients. I'd say I felt cat-like, but not in a good way.

6. Formal half-marathon training would need to begin February 17, which is even closer than I thought. I wonder if I'll be ready, considering that 2 miles of running is a huge accomplishment nowadays.

7. Drinking a lot of water is great. Drinking a lot of water when you don't have a functioning bathroom close to your office? Not so great.

8. It is odd to regard this diet/exercise routine as a necessity to manage stress levels, rather than a strategy for looking good.

9. I believe it's time for a nap.

On Poop

Shifting back into balance after the madness of EMDR training. The Peanut came into the city yesterday for a sleepover, and to help with the transition. Some dialogue samples:

Soliloquy

"[ridiculouschick], I'm a good eater. I eat and eat and eat. And you know what happens when you eat a lot? I poop. I poop and poop and poop."

Logic

ridiculouschick: "Peanut, do you need to poop? You keep tooting (farting)."
the peanut: "No, I toot because I'm happy."

Inquiry

(At Barbie's House in Toys R Us, Times Square)
"Where does Barbie poop?"

Contemplative

"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,
but that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?"

Hiatus

Dear EMDR Training::

You are kicking my ass far, far worse than I had expected. Suspending regular life activities until you are done with me. Including blogging.

xoxoxo,
ridiculous

Kaboom!

Dear Guy Who Almost Plowed Into Me While I Was Walking Through Union Square Because He Was Looking At His Blackberry, And Then Didn't Apologize For The Near Miss:

I hope that message was important. Fuckface.

xoxo,
ridiculouschick

Where's 'Terrible Terry Tate' When You Need Him?

Dear Drunk English Tourist Heckler at New York Comedy Club:

Next time, shut the fuck up and let the comedians do their acts. I don't care "how comedy goes" in England. Seriously. Shut up.

xoxox,
ridiculouschick

I'm A List Lady

Prompted by some spamalicious comments on my post about my nose ring, I rewrote my ongoing To Do list this morning, and I just thought it was so fascinating that I'd share with the blogging community.

1. Find provider (is that the right term?) in NYC to replace my nose ring
2. Determine the design for my next tattoo
3. Get my next tattoo
4. Make restaurant reservations for The Peanut's trip into NYC
5. Go through mail, change address for mail that was forwarded
6. Buy tickets to Jersey Boys for parent's wedding anniversary present (note: their anniversary was in September)
7. Order from drugstore.com
8. Finish required reading for training that starts on 1.18.08
9. Make final decision re: half marathon in the Spring
10. Check cost of the gym located in our apartment building; cancel NYSC membership

Mesmerizing, no?

Blog Roll

I'm home today with a sore throat / no voice, and thus have the time and inclination to make some changes to the blog.

I've noticed that some of my past favorite reads have stopped blogging (particularly missed: The Librarian and Groomzilla) so my blog roll is due for an update.

I NEED YOUR HELP. Please comment with one or two of your most entertaining picks, I'll check em out, and if they hold up to the high standards that I've set for myself here at ridiculouschick, they'll be added.

As It Turns Out, The Bedbugs Weren't So Bad

Well, comparatively speaking.

These are my across-the-hall neighbors from my first apartment in New York City. The one with the bedbugs.

Read and, please...enjoy.

Observation

Not to get all...Rooney-esque on you guys, but has anyone seen the Cymbalta commercial? Cymbalta is some kind of drug for treating depression along with its somatic side-effects...but I wonder about the marketing strategy.

Basically, the commercial voiceover states that depression 'hurts everyone' while the accompanying montage is of kids, pets, and spouses looking on sadly. Just in case you're not getting it, the music consists mainly of minor piano chords.

If I were clinically depressed, I'm not sure that being reminded of how much my depression sucked would be helpful in driving me toward treatment options.

But I Was Prepared!

I had thought I was extraordinarily organized when I managed to bring BFL appropriate food to work yesterday for the 5 meals that I require while I'm here.

However.

The plan yesterday was overturned by not being able to feel my jaw or tongue for about 4 hours while recovering from my trip to the dentist. (Odwalla protein drink to the rescue!)

And today, I'm discovering that it is really difficult to a) cut through leftover grilled steak b) using a plastic knife c) and a spoon. And furthermore, that chewing said steak is nearly impossible given the new fillings on one side of my mouth and sore gums on the other.

Surprise

As it turns out, my teeth have been hurting *not* because I'm grinding and clenching during my sleep...but because my fillings are about a gazillion years old.

(When I told my dentist that my fillings were, um, filled in 1988 she almost did a spit-take. Almost.)

My dentist must be super motivated because she decided to replace once side of my mouth's fillings right there on the spot. 4 shots of Novocaine and all.

(Me: "But I just came in for a cleaning!"
Her: "No time like the present!")

So now I'm back at work, debating if I should cancel my 3 pm client, or just try to drool on through it.

Ridiculous!

Whilst on the subway this morning, I noticed the above piece of artwork. Is the MTA suggesting that ours would be a better world if we had the ability to commute via giant rabbit?

(Given slow trains and fare hikes, maybe so.)

Free Day

Yesterday, I did such a stupendous job of taking advantage of my day off from Body for Life that I needed to share it with all of you. It is breathtaking.

9:00 AM - Life Cereal, directly out of the box.

10:00 AM - Dunkin' Donuts French Vanilla coffee and a Boston Cream donut

11:00 AM - Diner Breakfast: 3 eggs, ham, sausage, bacon, hashbrowns, toast with butter. And a piece of cherry pie.

1:00 PM - Homemade Minestrone Soup. Cheese and crackers. Cookies.

3:00 PM - More cookies. An apple. Assorted mixed nuts.

5:30 PM - Dad's homemade ravioli with meat sauce. Tomato and mozzarella salad. Gorgonzola cheese. Bread. Mom's homemade German Raw Apple Cake.

8:00 PM - B and I debate stopping at Dunkin' Donuts (again) to experience first-hand the three kinds of chocolate in the Triple Chocolate muffin. We also consider stopping at Wendy's for a Frostee-Freeze. Sadly, we do neither.

9:00 PM - Cookies.

11:00 PM - Cheese and crackers.

Almost Week 1

The first week of the new ridiculouschick stress management plan is almost over. Let's recap.

1. Eating: For all the days that I *haven't* been projectile vomiting, I've been on Body for Life. And I've just ordered from FreshDirect so we should be covered for the next two weeks.

Some of might remember the last time I did BFL (2003). For those of you that don't, Sunday is a free day and you can eat whatever you want. I'm going to brunch with The Lawyer and then to The Jerz for Dad's homemade ravioli. Bring it!

2. Exercise: I ran three miles on Sunday, and I'll be going to Yoga tomorrow. I'm looking into canceling NYSC and joining the gym in my building. And I've got two running partners and an intent to run the half marathon again.

3. Sleep: Eh. This weekend it's all about napping.

4. Health Month: Haven't had an alcoholic beverage. So far.

Thwarted

Last night, B and I had our long-awaited apointment with The Animal Behavioralist.

(Well, it was probably just long-awaited for us, since the rest of you aren't living in our house with Demon Dog. In short: Stewie, B's dog, and now my dog - kinda - is having adjustment issues because I've moved in. These have taken the form of aggression, and, in one instance, him treating my arm like it was 'made outta ham'. 90% of the time, Stew and I are buddies. The other 10%? Mortal enemies. )

Part of the 'Behavior Modification Plan' is that Stewie is no longer allowed to sleep in our bed. (Duh.) So last night, we successfully maneuvered him into the kitchen, put the gate up, and decided to go to bed early, the bonus being that our sleep would not be disturbed by Stew climbing all over us during the night as he usually does.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Around 4:22 am (ok, not around, at exactly 4:22 am) we were both jolted awake by the sound of the heater in our bedroom. This was very disturbing as one has to manually turn the heat on, and neither of us had done so.

Which left us, at 4:22 am, lying awake and wondering if the apartment was suddenly inhabited by some kind of heat-seeking poltergeist. And then remaining awake as the room became overly warm with no way of turning the heat off.

Very simply, a good night's sleep - is it possible? Me and my New Year's Resolution need to know.

Talkin' 'Bout A Resolution

1. We all know that my job is stressful. This will not change, even if my boss gets less crazy. There is no way that you can do what I do and not get stressed about it.

(An aside: I need to find a way to explain what I do which won't result in instant conversational death. Last night, B and I went to a party, and because it was a New York City party, the talk always turns to what you do for a living. Here's how it goes down (always):

Anyone: So, what do you do?
Me: I'm a Social Worker.
Anyone: Oh, what kind of social work?
Me: I work with people who have experienced trauma.
Anyone: Oh, what kind of trauma?
[You'd think that most people would pick up on my evasiveness, but no. They don't.]
Me: I'm a therapist for survivors of sexual assault, childhood sexual abuse, and domestic violence.
Anyone: ~silence~
[Alternately, sometimes, you get a disclosure of past or present trauma. I'm not sure which I prefer.]

2. Most people are aware of the basics of stress management. Exercise, plenty of sleep, eating right, etc.

3. For 2008, I'm gonna have to be really careful about honoring the stress management part. And adding a little extra - some yoga (thanks for the Christmas gift, B!) and knitting (thanks for the list of NYC yarn shops, ChiChiMama!) and being around people who nurture and support me.

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

To reward myself for making it to one full year without having a cigarette, I spent the day vomiting.

On the plus side, I'm pretty sure I haven't absorbed any calories, so the nutrition plan is going well.

Recovery

I'm not gonna lie to you, last week was pretty bad. The bitterness of having to work through the holidays, along with exacerbated work stress resulted in an excess of crankiness.

When I'm cranky, it's no fun for anyone.

But I purposely had a VERY mellow weekend, and B and I started a new nutrition program this morning (which will be blown to hell at tonight's NYE festivities) *and* I ran 3 miles yesterday...so I'm feeling a bit better.

And in the spirit of setting my goals big, wondering if OrangemanMike wants to do a little running.

ReThinking Thanksgiving

The Setting: B's brother's house....

The Players: Me, B's mom, B's brother, B's SIL, B's nephew, and last, but not least, B. (You didn't think I'd go visit them on my own, did you?)

The Backstory -B's Mom came to our apartment for Thanksgiving and I cooked. It is now one month later...

Aaaaannnnd action!

Mom - So [ridiculouschick], what else did you get for Christmas?
B - The book...
Me - Oh yeah, [B] also got me a book by Anthony Bourdain.
Mom - Who's he?
Me - He's this famous chef.
Mom - Ooohh....so you're going to learn to cook?

Aaaaaaaaand Scene!

Happy Holidays

I slept at my brother's house on Christmas Eve. The Peanut did her part by singing every Christmas carol she knows at the crack of dawn to get us all out of bed the next morning.

So it's about 6:17 am and we're waiting for the coffee to brew and my parents to arrive when she turns to me and says, "[ridiculouschick], you really need to get married."

I looked for the hidden camera, or for evidence that my mother had bribed her make this request.

Then I asked why.

And she explained, in her most adult three-year-old voice, that when I get married, I will "really start living" and that "all adult girls need husbands".

It might be time to rethink her fascination with the Disney Princesses.

Peppermint Mocha

I finished my 2nd therapy session tonight...

(did I tell you that I now see two private clients through my institute on Friday nights? Yes, Friday nights. One at 7:00 and one at 8:00. I don't know who I feel worse for - me or them.)

...and walked downstairs into the bitter cold...

...to find B and the dog waiting with my favorite Starbucks beverage. He even remembered to make it decaf (it was 9:00 pm and I am an old lady) and to put a straw in it, and to add soymilk...

...and then we all walked home, where he had ordered sushi and queued up the next season of Monk.

We really have that dog well trained, no?

Oh Lordy

And as if pondering my existential bullshit isn't enough, it's raining and I forgot my umbrella.

Transition

Before I became a therapist/counselor/mental health professional, my work life was pretty simple and steady. I could go to my office and completely tune out for the day (and I often did). I could do the absolute minimum that my job required, and still be considered an excellent employee. And so my days went...

...until I decided to overturn everything that I knew and everything I felt comfortable with to become a social worker. (See archive for graduate school wackiness.)

When I started my 2nd career I had a plan. I knew the work would be emotionally challenging, but vowed that it wasn't going to get in the way of my outside life or my relationships. The start felt bumpy, but I figured that was normal for a new social worker. Then my supervisor left and things felt chaotic and finally after months of feeling totally and utterly unsupported at work, I decided that I needed clinical skills help, and started an intensive 2-year trauma training program.

Still, there was this idea about living my life and drawing the line and keeping work and play separate.

Now I feel totally tricked. Because honestly, how did I think adding 8 hours to my work week wasn't going to have an impact? How did I think that I was going to continue listening to the things that my clients tell me without having trouble sleeping, or trouble feeling safe, or trouble with any other symptom of vicarious trauma? How did I think I was going to be a social worker and that my life was going to stay the same?

Fact: my work and my personal life are intertwined, whether it's in the stuff that I carry home every day, the way that I see the world, and/or the way I'm experiencing my interpersonal relationships. And maybe holding the belief that I need to keep the two divided is taking more energy than is necessary.

I think I just need to acknowledge that I'm not the same person, and that morphing into something different is a process. I'm gonna analyze my interactions and get some things wrong and overreact to some other things and it's all going to be a bit of a mess for a while. The truth is that I chose this career and so along with that, I choose the person who will exist within this career. And I have to give myself a little space to puzzle it all together.

Um, Wait. That's Not What I Meant.

I have a day off on Monday. I have a day off on Monday! The original plan was to go visit my Boston peeps for a 3 day weekend, but given the impending storm/doom and gloom that is predicted, it might be best to stay home.

But that's not the point.

In the main waiting area of my program, we have a whiteboard where we track staff location, using codes to note the reason for absences: sick, vacation, conference, etc. So this morning, I merrily wrote that I was going to be out on Monday (I have a day off on Monday!) with the appropriate code.

I just walked into the hallway and re-read the board:
[ridiculouschick] 12.17.07 VD.

Hm.

Very Relaxing

B and I have been taking turns at incapacitation. I was sick for most of the weekend, and he just went in the bedroom to rest, stating that he is 'very stressed'.

I end up sitting on the couch, catching up on everything DVR'd, and all my emails and blogs...and decide I'm going to check how he's feeling. So I'm standing in the doorway to our bedroom, trying to gauge whether he's awake or not, when Stewie starts growling and barking and bounding out toward me (I cut a pretty menacing figure, apparently).

In hindsight, I should've called out to the dog because he'd have likely recognized my voice. What I actually did was panic and turn the overhead light on, while loudly commanding (ok, yelling) that Stew needed to be quiet.

Obviously, B woke up, rather abruptly.

Hope I helped with your stress, honey!

Touche, My Friend. Touche.

This morning in our(!) apartment:

ridiculouschick in cheese-voice: "The best gift I can get is waking up every morning next to you." [batting eyes in an exaggerated manner]

B: "Okay. Well then. Merry Christmas."

Yeesh

A gentle reminder from H, one of my book club girls:

"You got two choices – both only involve 8 letters. 8 nights, 8 letters.

Chanukah

Hanukkah"

Hmmm...why didn't B know this?

Religious Differences

I was worried that I wouldn't have time to get B a first-night Chanuka gift, what with all the moving craziness and such - but no worries. We both took a day off work...

*Trip to CVS, bought him a Cherry Pepsi. Happy Chanuka.

*Empanada Mama - bought lunch. Happy Chanuka.

*Sat in my old apartment for 3 hours, waiting on a delivery for his friend who will be subletting. Without complaining (much). Happy Chanuka.

*Shared a leftover half bottle of Pinot Grigio, rather than drinking it myself. (Straight from the bottle - bonus!) Happy Chanuka.

*Organized the hall closet in our new apartment while he was out, performing at a gig. Happy Chanuka.

*Located balm for his chapped hands. Happy Chanuka.

I believe I've covered 6 out of 8 days already. This is simple.

Let's Play The Feud!

One of the areas where B and I are really well matched is the craziness of our families. So I've devised a little contest between the two to determine whose family is actually more insane. A 'Family Feud' if you will.

Round 1: Birthdays
On ridiculouschick's 30th birthday, her Mom called to 'wish her a happy birthday' but ended up crying on the phone for half an hour about ridiculouschick's recent broken engagement and her beliefs that ridiculouschick would never get married or have children.

On B's birthday, his Mom called to give him grief about his surprise party, wondering why she had not been invited, an issue over which he had no control, as he had no part in organizing the festivities. .

Round 2: Living Together
ridiculouschick: 'B and I have decided to move in together!'
ridiculousmom: [silence] - 15 seconds - 'Oh. Well, does that mean the two of you are getting serious?
ridiculouschick: 'Um, yes, I guess so.'
ridiculousmom: 'Well, what about the baby?'
ridiculouschick: 'What baby?'
ridiculousmom: 'When you have a baby. What religion is the baby going to be?'

ridiculouschick: 'B and I have decided to move in together!'
ridiculousbrother: 'Are you pregnant?'

B: 'ridiculouschick and I have decided to move in together!'
Bmom: 'Well, I hope it's not like the last time, when you lived with [B ex-girlfriend] for 2 years and it came to nothing. '

Round 3: Coming Soon...

Caveat

There's one problem, living with a comedian.

Mostly everything turns into material.

Wallace

I just spoke with my ex-boyfriend, T, who told me that they had to put Wallace to sleep yesterday.

Wallace was the dog that T and I owned while we were living in Hoboken, way back in 1996. When we broke up, it was just her and I for a while, until I moved to a place that didn't allow dogs. Luckily, T's family was able to adopt Wallace, and they took excellent care of her for the past 8 years. I didn't see her often, but was glad to get updates and photos from T when he went home for visits.

I still remember meeting her for the first time, a tiny puppy who was all ears, wrapped up in a blanket and shivering. And I just tearfully laughed on the phone with my mom, thinking about the time when Wallace jumped up on our kitchen table and devoured an entire stick of butter before anyone could stop ber (her coat was extra shiny for weeks).

Stress Test

Sensing that I might need more help than my 'breathe' wristlet can give, B got me a gift certificate for a massage at Bliss. (I love him.)

Which is a good thing, as the stress of negotiating my move to his house just amped up a bit, with the subletter for my place wanting to know when he can move in, and the lease-holders for his (subletted) apartment unsure if they want us there (without their crap furniture) until the end of the sublease (April 1) or sooner (January).

Oh, and I also have to schedule a time (and the guts) to tell my family that I am moving. Not that I need their approval or anything...but it's tricky.