Melly's Musings

Thank You Susan G. Komen

2012-02-01T13:55:00.002-06:00

Just a quick shout out to the Susan G. Komen foundation and all those anti-choice people out there (I'm looking at you Eric Scheidler, executive director of the Chicago-based Pro-Life Action League) for making my decision to give Planned Parenthood of Illinois my money a little bit easier. I usually give money to several charities throughout the year. Some of them are services I use, like NPR. Some of them are organizations friends and family are involved in like the American Red Cross (go Dad and Uncle Tim) or the Girl Scouts (can't wait for cookie time Eva Kay). I've even been known to be a sap and purchase stuff with proceeds going to a charity even though I know little of that money actually finds it way back - like Susan G. Komen pink ribbon stuff.

But you know what? Since you bowed to political pressure to pull funding from Planned Parenthood, Susan, you won't be getting my dollars, and I'm seriously going to find a way to pull that pink ribbon off my gym bag. I'm glad being "politically correct" is more important to you than women's health. Which is a little weird given your mission.

Thanks to you, I've just sent $50 to Planned Parenthood of Illinois. Easiest, best 50 bucks I've spent in a long time.

Pants

2012-01-26T13:13:00.001-06:00

shiny pink ill-fitting trousers

Fresh off my resolution to be less critical and moreembracing of my body image, I was handed a task that would put that resolutionto the test: I needed to buy new pants. Work pants. You know, slacks.Professional looking trousers.

I needed to new pants because, hurray, thepants I bought three months post pregnancy to wear when I was going back towork, no longer fit. They were too big! But I was not looking forward to thisexercise in futil … I mean excursion. That’s why I let the pants I was wearingbasically look like pleated trousers before I finally decided a new pair or twowas in order.

See the thing is, is that women’s pants don’tcome in uniform sizes or have helpful measurements on them. Pants come instupid sizes like zero and two and 10. These numbers mean nothing and have nostandard across stores or even from year-to-year within the same store. Theymean that in one store I am a size four because that’s the number the AnnTaylor thinks will make me feel better about myself and in another store I am asize six because Banana Republic wants to put a woman in a pant size two sothose really skinny bitches feel better about themselves – as if they needanother reason. I mean a size two? How is that a real size? You know who arethe only people who should be wearing a size two? Two year olds.

And since the numbers are not tied to any measurements,like a four means you generally have a hip size of 36 inches and a waist of 28inches, you have to guess. Depending on what store I’m in, and my history intheir clothes, and what size I currently, I just pick a bunch of pants at that sizeand the size up and the size down. And, depending on the cut of the pant, maybetwo sizes up or down. I mean really. I have gone into the changing room withclose to a dozen pair of pants just to figure out what size fits me best andTHEN I get to figure out if I can find a style, color, fabric I like. Usually Ifind maybe one pair of pants that I like.

When I went back to work three monthspost-partum, I was a size eight in the Gap curvy pant. My first stop on thisshopping torture, by virtue of location, is Banana Republic. Now youprobably know this, but BR and the Gap are owned by the same company. Do notlet this fool you into thinking there will be any similarities in the sizesoffered at their stores. So, I pick out some of BR’s “curvy” fit pants. Well,what the f ever. First off, their “curvy” fit pant assumes you don’t actuallyhave an ass or hips – just a hint of an ass or hips, and certainly not both.Apparently BR pants only fit boys and prepubescent-shaped women who neverdeveloped birthing hips. I have birthing hips and an ass. Anyway, I’vesuccessfully bought BR pants before, but have had to have them tailored both inlength (which I’m fine with) and in the waist, which I hate to do because goddammit it is not my fault that I have hips! But whatever, I can have them takenin there too. After much trying on and having a sales person tell me that anypair of pants that I wear is going to have some pulling across the hips, I leavewithout buying anything. I do however put one pair of pants on hold that “sorta”fit in case this is as good as it gets.

Off to the Gap – whose curvy pant wasseemingly (amazingly) made with an actual woman in mind – not a card board cutout of a woman. However, after pursuing the wall of pants, there are no curvypants to be found. I find a sales person (which is the only time you have to golooking for a sales person at a store – when you actually need one – but Idigress) and asked about the curvy pant. Nope, they no longer carry those. I walkout.

So then on to Ann Taylor. By this time I waspretty much ready to cry. This is why I hate to shop for pants. It’s sodemoralizing. Like it really shouldn’t be this hard? I walk up to the salesperson who is working near the pants section; say I need a pants that’s fit fora woman with hips. She asks me what size. I say I’m not sure maybe a four or a six.She pulls a couple of both in several different fabrics and takes me off to thedressing room. Miracle, the size four fits with just a little extra room in thewaist. Sure, they’re too long, but I probably can get away without taking themin in the waist. I ask her if they have any petite pants.

Side note: for those who don’t know, petiteclothes are for women who are 5’4 and under (I am just below this). The petiteclothes have nothing to do with weight; it is a height designation only. Theyare generally shorter and smaller in proportion. Naturally I am a petite atsome stores, not at others. And I tend to be a petite on bottom only (in pantsand skirts) but not on top.

She mentions that usually you go up a size inthe petite pant, so I would be a size six in petites, but since I have someroom in these fours, I ask her to grab some sixes and fours. Sure enough, thefour petite fit perfectly. Like no tailoring necessary at all. I think a lightfrom heaven pretty much opened up and shined on me for one second in thedressing room. It closed when I realized that the store had exactly one pair ofpetite size four in the entire store. But, not to be deterred, and actuallyfeeling slightly happy about this shopping trip, I bought a couple of regularsize fours because they were way on sale and the tailoring is still less thanthe full price pants. I then went online and bought a couple more size fourpetites.

Call me a happy woman until next time I goshopping and I hop skip and jump myself to an Ann Taylor (or more likely onlinebecause they have a better selection of petites) only to try them on and lo andbehold a petite size four no longer fits me because they’ve decided that I’vegrown, or shrunk even through according to my measuring tape and scale, I amstill exactly the same.

Apparently the notion never occurred tosomeone that something like a pant should be sold with actual measurementsattached to it. Like, I don’t know, I’m just throwing this out there, waist andhip and maybe even inseam. Like I could go to the store and look at the 27”waist/38” hip pants and go try those on. See if I liked them. Maybe theywouldn’t have to have every combination, but they’d have a bunch. And if youwere an odd size, or an in-between size, which I’m sure a lot of us would stillbe, then you could have the tailored. But you would know that you likethe pants at Banana Republic but not Ann Taylor so you could just go to onestore. Or maybe you could go to all the stores that you never have time to goto because you don’t have to bring every f’ing pair of pants on the sales floorinto the dressing room to find the ONE pair that fits you.

I honestly don’t know how women have notrevolted in this country. I don’t know what we would do. I guess we could alljust stop buying clothes and make our own until designers acquiesced to ourdemands and started sizing clothes in a rational way. At the same time, we candemand that they stop using only models with no hips and no breasts to modelthe clothes and when they do use a “normal” sized woman, stopped calling herplus sized because god-dammit 10 is not a plus size.

I know that certain styles of clothes won’tlook good on me because of my body shape. And that’s fine. I don’t mind that. Ijust want to have a fighting chance when I go shopping. Really. I wouldprobably spend a lot more money on clothing if it weren’t so ridiculouslyfrustrating to buy clothes.

Now, apparently, I just need to learn to sew.

Body Image

2011-12-06T14:24:00.001-06:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about body image lately. Mostspecifically, my body, and how to get back into shape after having a baby. Idon’t know if you know this, but having a baby does a number on your body. Ithink there is a pretty good reason humans are supposed to have babies in theirlate teens and 20s rather than in their late 30s – bouncebackability.

Don’t get me wrong; my body actually fared well. I exercised throughout my entire pregnancy. I only stopped doingyoga when I could barely touch my toes and I worked out on the ellipticaluntil just 24 days before I gave birth. After that I walked, a lot. So I was inpretty good shape before baby H. was born. But after, well that’s where theproblems began. First it was recovering from birth and the c-section. Then itwas napping while the baby napped. Then it was going back to work and all myextra time was spent pumping milk instead of iron…and then suddenly it had beenalmost a year since I had baby H and had regularly gotten to the gym. Actually, that’s not true. I did manageto run a half marathon in February, so I trained for that all through Decemberand January. But not as much as I would have liked to and it took my sisterdragging me to the gym every Sunday to do it.

So even with a body that can manage to run (OK, jog) 13.1miles, I’m still not happy with my body. And to be truthful, I’ve never really been happy with mybody. It seems pretty much every woman in the industrialized world is unhappywith her body. It’s the unhappiness when I step on the scale, even when I knowthat the numbers say I am an acceptable weight. It’s the unhappiness reflectedin the mirror when I look at my thighs and my butt and wonder why they can’t beslimmer, smaller. This unhappiness doesn’t really come from inside me. It comesfrom the outside. It comes from 39 years of looking at thinsuper models, and more recently, modelswho aren’t even real. Ifonly I could Photoshop my body in real life. I wouldn’t go overboard. I’mhappy with my waist (even my bigger post baby waist since it means jeans fitbetter because I’m not as out of proportion with my hips as I used to).I’d just take a little off the hips and thighs and butt. I wouldn’t give myselfa little non-existent butt. I’d just tighten it up a bit.

But I can’t do that. So I have to (a) learn how to be happywith the body I have and (b) learn that even though working out is good for me,the goal should be to feel better, not necessarily look better. Because, damn it,the way I look now is perfectly acceptable. I’m not an idiot, I know that thereare probably a lot of women out there that would be overjoyed to wear a 6-8jean, be 5’4” and weigh 126 lbs (of course my driver’s license says Istill weigh 110 which hasn’t been true since the late 80s). I know there are a lot ofwomen who would be happy to have lost the 30 lbs gained in pregnancy in threemonths (the wonders of breastfeeding!). I just wish the women’s magazines andads and fashion industry would get on board and stop showing us women who areunnaturally thin and women who lie about their weight (really, every actress is5’10” but weighs only 115 pounds? I think not.)

So, this year I am going to be happyabout my body and my weight and learn to ignore all the screwed up crapmedia throws at us. I encourage you to do the same. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop working out, stop tryingto be in shape. But I’m going to stop looking at all those girls in the gym andcomparing myself to them. I’m going to be happy with my body for once!

In the spirit of full disclosure, here's a look at me and my measurements(feel free to leave yours in the comments):

Height - 5'4"

Chest – 32”

Waist – 27”

Hips – 39.25”

Thighs – 23.25”

Weight – 126.4lbs

Body fat % – 23.5

The People Inside Me

2011-11-08T12:25:00.004-06:00

Today Mississippi is voting on Initiative 26 which would state that personhood begins at the moment of fertilization.

Now I know something about fertilization. I had several eggs - by my count around 36 eggs - pulled from my body on three separate occasions and mixed up with Mr. H's sperm in a petri dish and then some of those eggs, the ones that successfully fertilized and made it to day three intact, were put back in my body in my grand effort to conceive Baby H. Of those roughly 36 eggs, only one, ONE, made it into a living breathing human being. Let's think about what happened to those other eggs.

Each round of IVF, about half of the eggs either didn't fertilize or didn't make it to day three. Now the ones that didn't fertilize, no big deal. But the others that fertilized but then died? What about those? Under Initiative 26 would I or the IVF clinic be on the hook for those deaths? I'm saying not me, because it's not like I had the eggs in my possession.
Once the eggs made it to day three, they were inserted. Round 1 we inserted the two (or three, I can't remember) that made it. I did not get pregnant that round. So again, I ask, who's on the line for those deaths? This time, looks like it might be my fault because obviously they were in my body. Immediately following the implant, I flew to Paris for work and Mr. H. and I walked up the steps of the Eiffel Tower. I've always had a sneaking suspicion that was why I didn't get pregnant on the first round. I blame Mr. H. for this as he was the one who wanted to walk up the steps - I wanted to take the elevator.
Round 2 was pretty much the same, minus the stair walking. I tried to take it easy, but the three "persons" that were inserted never became a baby. This month though we did have one embryo left over. We froze that one for possible future use.
Round 3 we decided to throw in all the embryos that were viable, four. After the initial positive pregnancy test, while waiting for the ultrasound, I crossed my fingers for two weeks that three of those four hadn't hung around and I had only one Baby H. in there. Does my wishing for just one make me a murderer? Maybe in Mississippi.
And what about the frozen embryo that we never used? Well, Mr. H. and I decided we were done after one baby, so we donated that egg to research. Again, not sure if I or the IVF clinic should be on the hook for that. Maybe both of us - gave it up but they used it for research.

So by my count, that's nine embryos that were fertilized, inserted into my uterus that at some point expired. So that's nine counts of murder and half a count for the frozen one I donated. Nine and a half counts of murder. Somebody better lock me up because I could use a break - 18 month-olds really take it out of you.

Is this scenario a little extreme, probably. What will likely happen is IVF clinics, for fear of persecution, just won't operate in Mississippi. Can't conceive naturally in Mississippi? Sorry, travel to another state or don't have kids (I won't even mention the laughable "just adopt" option). Employed by a IVF clinic in Mississippi? Sorry, move to another state.

I could go on and on about the other potential ramifications of this law: making certain birth control illegal, making abortion illegal even in cases of rape or incest or danger to the mother's life, possibly criminalizing miscarriages. I won't, because I have faith that the good citizens of Mississippi will realize that creating "persons" out of roughly eight-cells is probably a step or two too far.

Pumping mama

2011-10-14T16:44:00.000-05:00

A couple of days ago one our our HR staff asked me if she could ask me a question that was sorta personal but also work related.

"Sure" - what else am I going to say?

So she asks me how many times a day I pumped when I was nursing my son, in the beginning. Three times. I actually held up my fingers while saying this for extra emphasis.

"That's what I thought" she said - sounding a little disheartned.

So apparently one of the managers she oversees has a newly back-to-work mom who is nursing and (s)he is complaining that this employee is spending too much time pumping. It was a little sad to hear. Sad because, while my company actually does better than other companies in that they provide a room for us lactating mom's to pump, obviously some managers don't quite get it. My manager certainly got it. I never had anyone make any fuss about me going up to a room, hooking myself up to a pump and sit for 10+ minutes three times a day so I could provide breast milk to my son the first year of his life. I did manage to get some work done as I have a BlackBerry so I could at least answer emails. I guess I get that for some jobs it's hard to be away from your desk...but I see lots of people get up and go outside to smoke a cigarette three or four times a day...I'm going to guess most managers aren't raising a fuss about that. What would be great if companies (or - gasp - the government) would give women more than 12 weeks maternity leave so maybe we could stay home with our babies and not have to come back to work right away and figure out how we're going to continue to do our jobs while still pumping...but I don't want to get all crazy here.

I stopped pumping at work at around 11 months. I don't miss it one bit - OK, there are days I do miss the quite time to myself, but I certainly don't miss having milk sucked out of my boobs. However I did it because I truly believe that giving your child breast milk (either direct from the source or in a bottle) helps ensure a great start to his/her life. I don't really expect my manager or any manager to actually care whether or not I want to provide this for my child. But I do expect managers to understand and follow federal law.

A Typical* Working Mother's Day

2011-10-12T09:57:00.005-05:00

Recently my new favorite blogger, Mary Tyler Mom, reposted a piece she'd written about Gwyneth Paltrow's GOOP site and the typical days of working mothers. To say the least, MTM didn't really think it was typical at all, and neither did I. To be fair, she did say "extremely busy days of mother's she knows." Obviously GP doesn't know me or any women like me. But as a counter point, here is this busy working mother's day.

Morning
Wake 6 a.m. catch a few extra z's while Mr. H. finishes his shower while also listening to NPR (multi-tasking at its finest). Shower (a five minute thing if this is a no wash hair day - 15 if it's a hair wash day), do my five second makeup. My tip for quick makeup - don't wear much. I have a moisturizer that I bought at CVS that has SPF and is tinted. Most days that's all I wear. But lately I've been trying to "look nice" so I put on eye shadow (either a light blush or brown) and mascara. Sometimes I put on lipstick. Get dressed, change clothes when I don't like what I'm wearing.

By this time, Mr. H has probably gotten Baby H. up, and changed his diaper and started the feeding process. I usually join them in the kitchen for a glass of OJ and a couple of vitamins. I may take a bite of Baby H.'s toast/bagel/fruit. At this point I try to get my stuff together so I don't forget anything - this includes making my lunch which is some sort of frozen thing, or maybe a Boca burger and some fruit, maybe a yogurt. Also, if there is time, I do the dishes that weren't done the night before. And unfortunately, for now, that means actually doing the dishes because we don't have a dishwasher...someday.

Feeding of Baby H. is probably done by now, so one of us gets him dressed and then we all brush our teeth. For some reason we always seem to be in the bathroom at the same time doing this. It really highlights how small our bathroom is...but it's good quality family time.

OK, we're all ready at this point so if it's a day I have to get to work by 8, I leave (probably going to be late anyway) and Mr. H. waits for the "nanny" to come pick up Baby H. and take him to the house of the family we share her with. If it's a day that I don't have to be to work by 8, Mr. H. leaves and Baby H. and I argue over what shoes he's going to wear. I then drop Baby H. at said family's house and speed-walk to the train.

Ah the train - some alone time. I usually check my blackberry to make sure that there's nothing urgent awaiting for me when I get in. Then I switch to my personal phone and "curate my social media" which just means checking Facebook and see if anyone I know has anything funny to say and if I feel the need to make any funny comments or "like" something. Then I switch to my Kindle and read whatever Project Gutenberg book I currently have (right now it's Bleak House by Dickens). After a 30 minute train ride I am finally downtown and I speed-walk the five blocks to my office cursing everyone in my way.

Work
I usually get to work between 8 and 8:30. The short version is: turn on computer, get some coffee, answer emails, answer the phone, write some stuff, send some emails out, update the intranet, check some blogs, make some phone calls, have lunch at my desk, get some water, send emails, answer the phone, browse the web, write some stuff, attend to a few personal things (pay bills, make doctor's appointments etc.) send some emails out, update the intranet, make some phone calls, try to get upstairs to our "workout room" to run and/or lift weights for 45 min., go back to my desk figure out what needs to be done before I leave, try to get on "early train" (5:03) so I don't have to run to make it in time to pick up Baby H., get caught up in conversation and miss 5:03 and run to the 5:15. Ah, the Metra. I take the Metra home cause it is just so much quicker than the CTA and it's very close to my office (but a longer walk on the home end).

Evening
If I'm lucky, I get to spend the 15 min. on the train catching up with my friend S. discussing, what else, work, kids, husbands - though yesterday we also worked in expensive boots and dresses probably too nice to wear to work but bought anyway because they were such a great deal.

Once I'm off the train I speed walk the mile from the train to pick up Baby H. by 5:45 p.m. We then take a leisurely stroll the four blocks home where I sometimes let him walk and live in fear of him running into the street. Home and we start dinner for Baby H. and hang out in the kitchen. After dinner, depending on how long it took us to get home and how dirty Baby H. got during dinner, we either play or start the bathing process. Unfortunately, since we're in a Chicago home that has original plumbing circa 1920's, filling the tub takes about 15 min. So while we wait, we see if Baby H. wants to go potty. He doesn't, but he likes sitting on it...well, it's a start. We bath Baby H. usually all of us hanging out in the bathroom (again, some good quality family time) although sometimes I use this time to do the dishes I didn't do in the morning. Then we send Baby H. off to sleep with PJ's, a few books (in rotation right now are Baby Faces, I Am a Bunny, and something something Monkey (I can not believe I don't remember the name of this book as we have read it every day for several weeks now...ah the mind of a super-busy mom)) and a song. It is now around 7:30 p.m.

After that, we quietly tiptoe in the kitchen to make dinner, which most nights Mr. H. does while I either (a) have yet another opportunity to do the dishes from the previous day and the morning or more likely (b) go into the living room, lie on the couch and watch TV. Lately I have been using this time to lie on the floor and do some yoga stretches because my neck and back has been so tense lately that I'm pretty sure they are going to seize up. We eat dinner sitting on the couch watching TV and after... if I'm being really good...I'll go into the kitchen and do the dishes, but really, who are we kidding. Usually I fall asleep on the couch around 9:30 and then Mr. H. wakes me up around 10 and we go to bed. While walking from the couch to the bedroom I grouse about all the things I didn't accomplish like: ironing, making my lunch in advance, kitting, reading, writing in my journal...

I'm sure my typical day isn't as hectic as some, but, I dare to suggest, that maybe a little more "real" than those ladies who offered their stories on GOOP.

* I don't really know if I am typical or not - I guess it's pretty subjective. To Gwyneth , Stella and Juliet are obviously typical.

Ways to make myself cry

2011-10-10T16:41:00.003-05:00

It is 17 months after the birth of my son. I am still emotional. I blame the hormones. But I may be nearing the end of that excuse.

I've just spent the last month reading a blog about a little girl who died of brain cancer. If you feel the need to make yourself sad, learn some about what it is like to live with and then loose a child to cancer, and feel extremely grateful for what you do have, visit Mary Tyler Mom.

Mr. H. has often wondered why I torture myself with sad movies, tv shows that play on the emotions. He wonders why I cry when I watch "the Biggest Loser" finale. I can't help it, I cry, and sometimes I like to. But he also gets it that it's cathartic. And this most recent crying fest over Donna's story. Well, I think Mary Tyler Mom lived the fear that all parents go through. Never in my life have I loved something so fully as I love my son. It is a joy and a privilege to see him grow. And I worry constantly that something will happen to him. Not necessarily something catastrophic that he'll get cancer (though with him being named after his uncle who died of cancer, that thought has crossed my mind). I also think that I'll fail him somehow. That by letting him fall down, I'm being too hard on him. Maybe I don't coddle him enough. Maybe I coddle him too much.

Anyway, this parenting thing is hard. Just about as hard as living can sometimes be. And if nothing else, reading Donna's story has reminded me that I am truly a lucky and privileged person.

Getting Back Into the Swing

2011-06-24T15:23:00.003-05:00

We'll see where this goes...again. Maybe no where. Pretty sure no one reads this anymore since it's been over a year since I've written anything on it.

I'm peaking around the corner. Seeing what needs to be done. Deciding if I want to do it. After becoming a mother, you're time becomes so much more precious and so many things get thrown to the side. Unfortunately, I let things go I didn't really want to let go and I have to work to get them back.

I haven't been writing much and that is one of the things I didn't want to let go. I will try to write more...and maybe, after a while, someone will come back and read this again.

We've Come a Long Way Baby?

2010-04-30T11:41:00.005-05:00

A couple of days ago I wrote about my infertility. Yesterday on Facebook I linked to an article from the New York times about new restrictions in Oklahoma (my home state) on abortion. I won't go into the particulars again because it'll just rile me and and apparently isn't not good to be stressed when you're 38 weeks pregnant. But I can't imagine not being riled up. In this day and age to have people who are telling women what they can and can't do with their bodies, well...like I said, I don't want to get too riled up.

This morning on NPR I heard a story about EMILY'S list, a "community of progressive Americans dedicated to electing pro-choice Democratic women to every level of office." The story started out how in 1985 there were only two women senators and just 23 women in the House of Representatives. Now there are 17 women in the Senate, 73 women in the House. Sure, we've come a long way baby, but seriously? 17 women in the Senate. Out of 100? And 73 women in the House. Hardly equal representation. And that's not to say that I don't think men can't represent women. And I know not all women are pro choice and for fertility treatment any more than all men are anti choice and against fertility treatment.

But I just think maybe a little more equality would be nice. And maybe, just maybe, if we had more congresspeople who actually could have babies, they'd have a better understanding of reproductive rights (both for getting pregnant and ending a pregnancy).

What if I didn’t live in a time and place where ART was an option

2010-04-26T15:09:00.010-05:00

It's National Infertility Awareness week and this post was brought about by Stirrup Queens "what if" post.

I never thought much about infertility of course until it happened to me. And once it did happen to me, I was lucky enough to (a) work in a state that mandates infertility treatments to be covered by insurance and (b) work at a company that doesn't somehow get around those laws and provides quite extensive infertility treatment coverage.

The year-and-a -half-long journey of trying to conceive (after having tried the natural way for a year) could have cost me tens of thousands of dollars. The doctor's visits, tests, procedures, injections etc. could have drained my savings account in addition to taking a toll on my sanity. But I was one of the lucky ones. Not only, after five cycles of Clomid, two IUI's and three IVF cycles (each of which yielded only enough fertilized eggs for one transfer), was I lucky enough to finally conceive a child, but I did so by spending only about $5,000 in co-pays and uncovered tests. Not even enough to qualify for the health tax deduction from the IRS.

As it was, having done two unsuccessful IVF cycles involving daily shots, sometimes multiple shots a day, regular intra-vaginal ultrasounds and blood tests, all ending in a "procedure" to remove eggs and then fertilize them and hopefully another (less painful) procedure to put them back again, I was looking at the third time possibly being the last time. If it wasn't successful, I just wasn't sure I could go through the emotional roller coaster that I knew now would follow. How I could have made the decision to go on after having paid out of pocket for something like that, well, I probably would have given up after the first try.

If I didn't live in a time and place where Assisted Reproductive Technology wasn't available to me because I couldn't afford it, or because there were laws against it, or for any other numerous reasons...well, I probably wouldn't be expecting my baby any day now. My mother, father and mother-in-law, wouldn't know the joy of being grandparents to our child. My sister might never be an Aunt. I would have had to learn how to deal with not having a child of my own. Maybe I would have looked into adoption more seriously. Maybe I would have decided this was fates way of telling me that I was too old to have children, or that I wouldn't make a good mother. Maybe the depression that I worked so hard to get through years ago would come back and rear its ugly head.

There are so many maybes out there...that even as I enter my 39th week of pregnancy, and complain about not being able to sleep, about the heartburn and how I just want to have this baby already...I try (with Mr. H's help) to remember the times before this baby was pretty much a given. I remember the negative pregnancy tests and the tears. I remember the joy of the positive followed quickly by the dread and worry that something would go wrong. I feel the baby move inside me and I remember how lucky I am to live in a time and place that offered me choices and freedom to make those choices.

The links below have more information about infertility:

http://www.resolve.org/infertility101

http://www.resolve.org/takecharge

Pretty sure I should be locked up

2010-02-25T11:23:00.004-06:00

Because I slipped and almost fell on the ice on my walk home yesterday. And if I were in Utah, and this new proposed bill passed (Criminal Homicide and Abortion Amendment), I could be tried for murder of my unborn child.

Or, if I were living in Iowa and I accidentally had a fall down the stairs because I was distraught after having a fight with my husband who told me he's considering leaving me and I told the nurse at the hospital that there were times I wish I weren't pregnant, I might end up in jail for a couple of days. And if I lived in any of the 36 other states which have fetal homicide law s, which I do, I should probably be more careful getting to and from work.

So why risk it. Just lock me and all the other mommies-to-be up so no one can hurt us (at least I don't have to worry about crossing the street anymore) and I can't intentionally or accidentally hurt myself or my unborn child.

Pregnant or Just Puffy

2010-02-24T09:30:00.003-06:00

This morning, while standing in the aisle on the train , I looked around and wondered if anyone might possibly decide that they should at least ask to give up their seat for me. I wasn't really expecting anyone to, and honestly, I don't have trouble standing for the 15 minutes it takes to get downtown, so I don't really mind. But I did notice several people looking at me and I think they were trying to figure out if I was pregnant or if my puffy coat was just particularly puffy.

But then, as I walked from the train station to the gym, the guy selling the Tribunes yells out to me "hey, get a Tribune for the baby." So I guess I do look pregnant, even in the puffy coat.

Crossing Over

2010-02-23T09:36:00.006-06:00

I cross several streets on my walk to and from the train each day in my neighborhood. It is a common occurrence that cars at the stop signs don't really like to stop to wait for people to cross the street. There are those who just roll the whole time, slowly, inching toward you. There are those who will actually swerve around you. And, most commonly, there are those who go the second your behind is past their front bumper. I am used to this and normally just glare at them to which most of them act oblivious as if to say "hey, at least I didn't hit you."

But lately I've become a little more vocal. Apparently it's common to more easily loose your cool during pregnancy. Sure, I expected mood swings, but the thought of getting a bat and taking a swing at every car that tries to rush me through the cross walk actually sounds like a good idea.

Last night, on my walk home, a huge truck on the other side of the intersection decided that he couldn't just wait for me to get out of the crosswalk for him to go. No, he needed to bear down on the crosswalk, being intimidating and stupid. So of course, I started yelling and swearing at him. He was on the phone or texting, so he wasn't really bothered. But the woman getting out of her car kinda shot me a look. I apologized and then proceeded to get upset because I'd let this idiot in his idiot truck get me upset.

I think the bat is a better idea because it gets my aggression out and at least gets the attention of the stupid drivers.

Pregnant Dream - Dwarfs

2009-11-12T11:54:00.005-06:00

Last night i dreamt that I was pregnant, but was engaged to this guy I saw once on a TV show about kids who were primordial dwarfs. In the dream I was totally unhappy that we were engaged and kept thinking to myself, I have got to get out of this. Mr. H was there as well as my sister (because she's in almost every dream I have) and I was packing getting ready to leave and run away with Mr. H.

I remember either partially waking up or in the dream it changed and I was like "whew, that was just a dream" and I was so glad that you Mr H. was still around, but it wasn't like a I was really awake. I will still under the impression that there was a possibility Mr. H. and I hadn't ended up together or something.

First Day of School

2009-09-08T09:21:00.003-05:00

OK, so I finished school many years ago. I haven't had to go to class in so long that I actually sometimes miss it. I miss going school supply shopping and buying new binders and pencils and college ruled paper. But you know what I don't miss. I don't miss people, parents, teachers, administrators, thinking that children are stupid and they don't have any ability to think for themselves. Or worse, those people not wanting children to think for themselves because God forbid they have a thought that isn't in line with what their thinking is.

Today, on a day that should be a celebration. Today, on a day that is, lets face it, a relief to many parents who finally have someone else to look after their kids for a few hours. Today should be a day of new hope and expectations and excitement. Instead, for some children, today is the day they learned that their parents or friends parents are scared of a speech by the president of our country. Maybe the little kids don't know why their parents are afraid, or don't even realize what's happening. But I sure hope that the high school kids are out there thinking how stupid and ignorant this hostility and fear of a speech is.

I read the speech and there is nothing political in it. I don't even think giving out a lesson plan asking students to give the administration ideas on how to improve education in this country is political. But I guess I can see how some could see it that way. The next thing you know these people won't want their children to attend public school because they don't trust the government to run schools. These are the people that cut their noses off to spite their face. I just hope that their children learn better.

Sign Me Up for a Death Panel

2009-08-18T08:16:00.007-05:00

I don't know about you, but all I hear in the news lately is stuff about Health Care reform. Enough all ready, right? It's summer. All I want to hear about it what the UV index is today and if there are going to be enough greenhouse emissions to make the average temperature in Chicago in February 45. Seriously, enough of these harsh winters.

No, that's not what I meant. What I meant to say is something along the lines are "Are we freaking crazy that we can't figure out how to (a) insure the uninsured people in our country and (b) actually reform health care so those of us that are insured are not just one health crisis away from bankruptcy."

I've had lots of thoughts on this, I'm sure you have too. And instead of letting the crazies (I know, they're not actually crazy, they're just uninformed) ruin it for the rest of us because they think the president is trying to kill Grandma, I'd start posting some of the stuff I read about health care and what we can do about it.

Today I've got two links for you. One is from the New York Times about what's in the bills. I know 1,000 pages is a lot to read (you don't have to tell me, I've been trying to read Infinite Jest for ever now), but it's imperative to arm yourself with knowledge. This is a good starting point, and much shorter than the bill.

The second set of links are how to get more information about Town Hall meetings in your area and how to find more information about your Senator and Representative. I know I'm preaching mostly to the choir here (and I don't even go to church), but we can't sit on the sidelines and let this debate about health care be sidetracked by the likes of (I hate to even type her name) Sarah Palin. If her post on her Facebook page can get the Senate to take the end of life counseling out of their version of the bill...we'll it's past time that we started figthing back.

Reasons I should Have Just Stayed in Bed

2009-06-24T08:06:00.002-05:00

No one should have to get up at 5:15, even if it's to go to the gym.
Getting to the gym and not having the dress you were going to wear to work makes for a crappy workout.
Trying to salvage your morning with a latte only to have your watch fall off your wrist and smash the crystal isn't a good sign.
Besides, it's Jackie's birthday, which, as we all know, should be a national holiday, so by all rights, I should get to sleep in anyway.

Happy Birthday Jackie

That Damned Liberal Media

2009-05-08T10:23:00.003-05:00

The New York Times, also known as "the paper of record," had decided in one case that waterboarding is to be described as "brutal" but not "torture" but in another case being kept in a room by yourself with a loud whistling noise playing constantly is "torture." They even discussed the tough choices journalists face when trying to describe these "enhanced interrogation techniques." Glenn Greenwald of Salon and Andrew Sullivan of The Atlantic believe they're being a little disingenuous when they use the word torture in an obituary of an American soldider but debate the use when it's Americans doing the "torture." I happen to agree.

I've been sick with the flu for the last several weeks

2009-04-29T11:23:00.003-05:00

Apparently I've been busy traveling too to New York and Houston and other places where now I hear that others are sick with the flu too. I should have stayed at home in bed I guess. Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. Just wanted you to know that's why I haven't updated the blog in so long because I've been too weak to blog. Not too weak to fly, just to blog. I'm feeling much better now.

My Status & My History

2009-02-03T22:39:00.001-06:00

Just an FYI - I know you're all awaiting another paragraph or two about the story I've been writing. I have some stuff to post and will post this week. But I am also out of town for a conference, so I honestly don't know how much time I'll have to write. So please be patient with me, I promise to get more back on track next week. Also, I appreciate all the comments and feedback I have gotten from you, thank you.

My History
For pretty much my entire life, I’ve had some connection to the mental health professions. After years of drinking and finally quitting, my grandmother became a counselor for alcoholics. This rubbed off on my mother who after partying hearty during the 80s decided that she too was an alcoholic, attended rehab a couple of times and the earned her undergraduate and graduate degrees in Social Work. My brother and I attended school sponsored group session when we were kids for children of divorced parents. I don’t remember that it helped much, at the time divorce just seemed like what people did sometimes – most everyone in my family had been divorced and remarried at least one – and no big deal. But we went and talked about our feelings I guess.

From about the age of 10 or so, I had wanted to be a psychologist. The thought of being a psychiatrist crossed my mind, being called a doctor sounded cool, but even at that age I knew that medical school probably wasn’t for me, so clinical psychologist would do just fine. However, around my teen years, we started seeing a therapist for family and individual sessions and I remember being very unimpressed about him. At the time I had a strong inner fantasy life going – as I suspect, but have never confirmed, a lot of children do. I held conversations with myself. I imaged myself growing up, falling in love with whatever famous movie star I had a crush on at the moment and having lots of kids. I asked the therapist if this was normal. And instead of just answering yes, it’s pretty normal, he asked me if I believed the fantasies I had were real. I didn’t really believe they were real, but sometimes, lying in bed at night, I could become quite involved, like reading a good book and forgetting where you are, so in a way, to me, they were real. Now, instead of reassuring me, he only made me a little more afraid that I was indeed crazy. That I’d end of schizophrenic, homeless at 20, walking down the streets talking to myself while people looked at me with pity or looked away from me so as not to be faced with their own craziness.

I never brought up this topic with him again, and instead we focused on my relationship with my mother, brother and step-father. A few years later, once I wasn’t living inside my head so much, I realized that I couldn’t possibly be actually crazy because people who think they might be crazy never are. Only those who think their behavior is totally the norm, those are the crazy one. My dream of becoming a psychologist, along with my fantasies, died around the same time.

Wild Turkey part II

2009-01-26T21:56:00.001-06:00

Of course, when grandmother Todd started drinking bourbon, it wasn't called Wild Turkey yet. They didn't name it that until 1954 after some hunters went on a Wild Turkey hunt and the next year the hunters were asking for "that wild turkey bourbon." No, grandmother Todd started drinking Wild Turkey after they repealed prohibition and the Ripy distillery went back into business. The town of Lawrenceburg, where the distillery was located, had seen a some hard times during the 13 years of prohibition, not to mention the depression. Once the economy started to pick up and prohibition was repealed, it was considered a bit of Kentucky pride to drink bourbon, and specifcially Wild Turkey if you lived within a 100 mile radius of Lawrenceburg. Having kin that worked at the distillery, Grandmother Tood was able to get juggs at cost and always had some on hand. She didn't drink in excess, but most days she had a nice buzz going on from about 3 o'clock on. Her drinking was what it is for most people, a way to numb the pain.

Granny Mary saw her mother go from quite hangover each morning before she left for school to happy drunk when she got home from school pretty much every day that she could remember. Granny Mary still did the chores, she took care of the kids, but she always had a little Kentucky sunshine inside her to make it through the day. If for some reason Grandmother Todd didn't drink, because they had run out of bourbon or for the handful of other reasons she wouldn't drink (needing to take a child to a doctor was a common one), she'd steel herself with coffee all day long and smoke twice as many cigarettes. By the end of the day she'd have found a way to have at least one shot of whisky before going to bed. And for that reason, Granny Mary never wanted to drink. Never wanted to put herself through that kind of pain each day. And so she never touched the stuff...until the day she thought maybe it would take a different type of pain away.

Wild Turkey

2009-01-22T19:54:00.000-06:00

When Granny Mary first got married she thought there'd be but two men in her life - her father and her husband. The first three years with Harry were all she could expect from marriage. She became pregnant immediately after getting married - truth be told she was probably a few weeks pregnant when they got married but she didn't know that at the time. With a baby coming, there was little time for a honeymoon period. Mary's days were spend preparing to be a mother; and Harry's days were spent working at the factory. Each day she'd make him his lunch and send him off with a kiss and then spend her time making what she called the baby's nursery, but was really just a corner in the living room of their one bedroom apartment, ready. She'd found a second-hand crib from a neighbor down the street. She painted the living room a bright cheery yellow and she started sewing sheets and drapes and clothes. All of her spare money, of which there was little, was put into the home, making it better, nicer.

Harry worked long hours, coming home dirty and hungry. She always tried to have dinner on the table but sometimes, especially after the baby was born, she'd just get caught up with sewing, or chores or something. Harry didn't ask for much, as he liked to remind her, but he asked that his dinner be ready when he came home. The nights it wasn't, he'd get angry, flop down in the easy chair, arms crossed, while he glared into the kitchen, waiting. He wouldn't take a shower, he did that after dinner. He wouldn't play with the baby, he did that after his shower. He wouldn't do anything but wait. He rarely yelled; his preferred method of getting his point across was sulking. Like you'd just done him a great injustice and he couldn't believe how you hadn't considered his feelings. Mary's reaction to this was to try to console, to hurry and make dinner and then apologize over and over again the entire meal. She knew he worked hard and one of the few things he asked of her was dinner when he got home. If he had just said, once, it was OK, Granny Mary might have stayed with Harry. If he had just once accepted her apology; just once acknowledged that she worked hard too making the house a home. But he never did. And so Mary believed that deep down he really hated her and thought she was worthless.

After a couple of years and another baby, Mary thought she was pretty worthless too. She'd never had the highest of opinions of herself, and living with Harry made her feel like she couldn't do anything right. And so one day, she stopped trying. Instead of making dinner or even planning for dinner, Granny Mary dropped the kids of with the neighbor and went out to the tavern down the street. She knew Harry'd never look for her here, she rarely drank, so she went in and ordered what she saw her mom drinking all the time, Wild Turkey.

Milking The Blues

2009-01-16T10:15:00.004-06:00

Sometimes, it doesn't take much to start one off into a downward spiral of depression and self loathing. It's different triggers that lead to what Grandmother Todd called The Blues, Granny Mary called sadness and Mom and I call depression. Sometimes you can actually pinpoint the moment it happens. Grandmother Todd went through a particularly harrowing blue period after an incident with a goat and some milk. It started off a great day, the kids were at school, the husband at work and Grandmother Todd was making her way through the household chores. She'd washed the breakfast dishes, put the washing out to dry, and mended a few socks. She swigged a thermos of black coffee on her way out to the barn to tend to Billy, the goat (sure, it was a female goat, but what are you going to call a goat other than Billy?).

Billy was eager to be milked and Grandmother Todd was eager to get back into the house out of the chilly January air. She pulled up the stool, corraled Billy and plopped down the bucket. Billy's milk filling the bucket slowly but surely, and Grandmother Todd let her mind wander as her hands worked through the repetitive movements of squeezing, pulling, releasing each teat. She thought about her other chores. She wondered what the children were learning in school. Then she thought about her own schooling, abruptly stopped at 14 because she had to work to help the family. She wondered what she'd be if she had stayed in school. Probably a school teacher because that's the most women from rural Kentucky could hope to be. But maybe a nurse. That would be interesting, being a nurse. Helping people. Having people depend on you for their lives. Grateful for the kind word, smile and aid you have given them. She'd be important if she were a nurse. But she wasn't a nurse, she was a lonely housewife with two kids who were becoming independent and a husband who wandered the town and the bars like a dog who can't remember where he buried his bone.

And that's all it took. That thought, the thought she had no control over her life. It flipped that switch like it had so many times before. Sometimes she'd come out of a Blue period after just an afternoon. She'd go back into the house, leaving Billy half milked, and crawl back under the covers. Not crying, not sleeping, just staring at the ceiling letting her mind race over all that was wrong with her. But the kids would come home, and she'd have to get up. Help them with the homework she barely undertood. Make dinner. She'd put on a brave face, and if she was lucky, The Blues would retreat into the back of her mind, to the bottom of her feet and stay hidden and forgotton, for now. But sometimes, she wasn't lucky, and The Blues stayed firmly put. Her every move would be shadowed by a thought of why. Why am I doing this? What's the point? Those times, everyone in the house just moved out of the way, waiting to let The Blues pass by.

Run Away From the Crazy

2009-01-15T09:12:00.004-06:00

You know there's not much hope for you when you come from a long line of crazy women. My great grandmother Todd was only 60 when I was born. She had three children, her first when she was 19. She claimed she had at one time traveled around the world with her husband, a navy pilot. But in reality she'd been stuck at home on a base only making it to Paris once before she was consigned to the farm in Kentucky to raise the kids. She chained smoked and drank until the day she died at 83, and she managed to raise three kids through the depression without them ever once going on relief.

My Grandmother Mary was only 17 when she met her first husband - with whom she had two children in rapid succession. She thought she was in love, but in reality she said yes to the first boy from the base who asked her out. Getting married was the only way out of the house that had become mired down in alcohol and hatred. Her parents didn't fight as much as hurl accusations across the room - taking down whatever child was in the way. Harry reminded her of her dad before he retired from the Navy and took up chasing women as his occupation. And while Harry loved and doted on the children, he just saw her as the woman who didn't keep the house clean enough, wasn't bringing in any money and was never satisfied.

Colder than Antarctica

2008-12-22T11:18:00.002-06:00

It's freezing outside. It's so cold in Chicago that it's actually colder than it is in Antarctica. That's cold. Apparently by purchasing the long puffy North Face coat I have wanted for the last two years that promised to keep me toasty warm this winter season I tempted the fates and they laugh at my 700-fill down. Sorry everyone.

Blog-ojevich

2008-11-24T09:24:00.003-06:00

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, I wonder what it would be like if I saw Governor, Rod Blagojevich running down the sidewalk. Well, I'll tell you, it's freaking hilarious. First of all, when first see the Governor running, you think, wow, that guy looks like Blago. Then, when you realize it is the ruler of the state of Illinois, you think, wow, Blago can't run at all. Then you think he's really sweating and huffing and puffing and barely moving his feet - it looks like he's about to have a heart attack. Then you think, I know I don't look wonderful when I run, but I look better than that.

To be fair, this could have been the end of his run. Maybe he had just run five miles. Though I live about two miles away from him, so if it was the end of his run, I don't know how he was getting back. I didn't see any security detail with him, but that doesn't mean they weren't there.

Anyway, it was a fun and funny thing to see on a Saturday afternoon as we made our way back from Target. I bought a curling iron and a hat and a pair of sweat pants and some new lip gloss. It was a good trip that ended even better.

Unpacking

2008-11-05T14:34:00.004-06:00

Mr. H. and I packed an emergency bag in case we had to get out of the country quickly after the election. So the good news, in addition to Obama winning the election, is that we're staying put for the time being. The bad news is that no matter how happy I am that Obama won the election, I still am still annoyed with one of my coworkers. I guess even on a day with seismic shifts, somethings must remain the same.

I'll take an Obama Slurpee

2008-11-04T12:48:00.001-06:00

Now this is a poll I can trust: www.7-election.com/

One Day More

2008-11-03T13:30:00.002-06:00

I thought I'd take this time to ponder the last eight years and wonder how we will ever move beyond it. Good thing I found this book on Amazon: The 12-Step Bush Recovery Program. I'm on step two "Understanding What You've Been Through." I'm really hoping to get to step 12 by January 20. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

I've also added this book to my bedtime ritual: Goodnight Bush. It helps me sleep to think that tonight might be the last time I have to say goodnight to him and tomorrow I'll wake up and it will have all been a bad dream.

elephant and castle again

2008-10-24T17:18:00.001-05:00

trying to calm my nerves after a long week of work and poll wacthing. i don't know about you, but I'm ready for this election to be over.

America Hating Liberal

2008-10-21T14:48:00.003-05:00

If I hate this country so much (which I must because I count myself as a liberal - and I'm pretty elitist to boot) why don't I just move? I ask myself that more and more it seems. But as the election comes closer, the more I see the GOP showing what I feel I've always known were the true colors of those who wan to sensor speech, take away choice and think if you don't believe in their God then you're wrong. Despite what they say, the McCain/Palin rallies aren't getting any nicer, as was reported at the Huffington Post today. I don't kid myself that Obama can fix everything. But I can't say that I'll be sticking around for long after January if he somehow doesn't win.

technology

2008-10-20T17:18:00.001-05:00

is a good thing...but can be a pain in the ass.

Possibly reverting back to the Stone Age

2008-10-20T14:18:00.002-05:00

I have a rather long and involved tale about my cell phone where the one I had, and hate, was roaming all the time while Mr. H.'s phone had perfectly good, non-roaming service, so I go and get a new phone cause it's been two years and I'm that kind of consumer only to have it get NO service (not even a roam) in and around our apartment (meanwhile Mr. H. has downloaded NFL live and is watching the Brown's game "totally awesome" on his phone) go back to the store twice more and call customer service twice - all to no avail. Apparently some tower is down and I either have a phone that doesn't have a very strong antenna or I suddenly (but not Mr. H.) live in a rural area that doesn't get great reception. I've been told they are working to restore the tower, that and a $40 refund on my bill (which I basically had to beg for) have placated me for the time being. If the phone is still not working in my abode by the end of the week, I may go back eight or so years and be sans cell phone. You people know my work and home numbers. Seriously, is it that important?

Friday night at the bar

2008-10-17T18:17:00.003-05:00

I've had a couple of comments about my lack of blogging lately. So
this is for you D and Mr. H.

I'm with Mr. H at Elephant and Castle on Adams. There are a bunch of gourds adorning the bar. Mr. H thinks they look phallic. I think they look festive. Maybe if I have a few more beers.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Friday Thoughts

2008-10-03T16:00:00.003-05:00

First Thought
What is up with the Cubs? I mean seriously? On the plus side, if they lose their next game at least they didn't draw it out and get all of our hopes really up. I mean, I know it's a lot to ask of the universe to let an insignificant bunch of over paid boys that never figured out how to get a real job to win to lift the spirits of fans who, let's face it, mostly just like to go to the run down ballpark to drink. But it's been 100 years. I've been a Cubs fan (sure maybe not the most devoted fan, but a fan still) since 1984. Even 20 plus years is a lot of time not to win anything. But hey, whatever. If they actually do manage to win this year or the next or ever, in a weird way they will cease to be the Cubs and then what will we do?

Second Thought
I've about had it with the people who roll through stop signs and hate to wait for pedestrians to cross the street. Last night on my way home I was fully within my right to begin crossing the street when the car on the other side of the intersection gunned it (and he had a really loud muffler so it made it even that much worse) and then swerved around me as I had not yet actually made it across the street much less past the midway point. I don't think I was really in any danger of getting hit rather so much as forcing this guy to wait a few extra seconds to get wherever he was going. I'm sure it was the emergency room or something like that and his total display of douchery was completely necessary.

Third Thought
TGIF - I know, corny but totally true.

Hair cut

2008-10-02T12:05:00.003-05:00

I got my hair cut last night. My hair dresser, Bathsheba (I know ... right?), she's opening up her own salon, Sparrow, but her landlord didn't get a permit to do work on the facade so they got a stop work order and now instead of cutting hair in her new nifty hair salon she's and her partner are working out of a friend's art gallery on Milwaukee in the middle of Bucktown/Wicker Park. Contrary to Mr. H.'s popular belief, it is not in a basement. It is however, fairly basic, just a chair and some mirrors. No shampooing, so coloring, no perms (not that I think she'd give me a perm even if I begged, but who knows...maybe next time when I go in I'll ask if she can perm my hair). Anyway, the up side is that I get pretty basic hair cuts and she's charging less than she normally does since she's obviously not a fully functioning hair salon. However, now that she's the owner of her own salon, do I not need to tip her anymore? Once, a long long time ago, I went to a place and had my hair cut by the owner and he said I didn't need to tip him because he was the owner and you don't tip the owner. I don't want to offend her by tipping. So if you have any ideas, let me know.

OMG - I'm so bored of running

2008-10-01T12:20:00.002-05:00

I may or may not do this Higgins Half Marathon I've been training for. The good news is I didn't have to pay anything to sign up so I'm not out any money. The bad news is if I don't do it I'll feel more than just a little guilty. I'm not saying it's totally off yet, just that it's hard to continue to train. I haven't done a long run since the Walter Payton run and it's really hard to get up early on a Sunday morning and go run 8 or 9 or 10 miles. But I'm not saying I'm done yet. Just thinking about being done. I'm going to run tonight and tomorrow night and see how I feel. And if on Sunday I manage to get myself out and run 8 miles then maybe everything will be OK. I'll keep you posted.

Walter Payton 16,726 Yard Run

2008-09-16T09:46:00.003-05:00

That's 9.5 miles for those of you having trouble converting yards into miles. Mr. H. and I ran this race in the pouring rain on Saturday. I wasn't sure how I was going to get through 9.5 miles much less a wet 9.5 miles, but somehow I did it. My results:

I finished with a time of 1:35:57.1 (10:01 pace) and 198/271 overall. I finished 15th in my age group - no where near placing, but not dead last like I thought I'd be (did I mention it was raining cats and dogs?).

As impressive as my results are (and I know you're impressed), Mr. H's results are even more impressive:

He finished with a time of 1:13:32.6 (7:44 pace) and 38/271. He finished a close but not quite 4th in his age group. He's a little upset he didn't get 3rd in his age group because he knows he can run that fast, but I still love him.

I'm very proud of him and frankly myself. Even now, knowing I can run 9.5 miles, I have no idea how I did it.

Understanding Sarah

2008-09-11T15:53:00.003-05:00

From an article about Sarah Palin on Salon, an interesting quote:

What Palin so seductively represents, not only to Donny Deutsch but to the general populace, is a form of feminine power that is utterly digestible to those who have no intellectual or political use for actual women. It's like some dystopian future ... feminism without any feminists.

It's helped me understand why she's attractive to no only the men in power, but also some of the women who probably don't want to be seen as a "feminazi" but like the idea of having some power, even if its' a charade.

Half way to a Half Marathon

2008-09-04T19:05:00.004-05:00

So here's the story for those of you who don't know. Mr. H. and I are training to run a half marathon. We're scheduled to run it the last weekend of October, Sunday the 26. But here's the problem, there isn't a half marathon scheduled in Chicago, or any of the surrounding areas that weekend.

See, my sister is running a 1/2 marathon the weekend before in Utah. She somehow convinced me to start training with her, but I must of missed the part where there wasn't a race in Chicago the same weekend. Once I started training it seems stupid to not continue. (This is weird for me because I usually don't have a problem abandoning projects.)

So instead of waiting to find a half marathon to run in, you know, one fully supported with a certified course and all, we decided to do our own half marathon. Sounds like fun huh? Well it seems to be for my sister who has taken it upon herself to organize a course for us complete with water stops, t-shirts and medals at the end (if I'm running 13.1 miles, I better get some sort of medal). She's currently looking for volunteers for the water stops, and I'd love someone to run next to me the whole time to help me keep going or at least some friends along the route to clap and say good job. Let me know if you're available that weekend.

Another 10k

2008-09-01T19:11:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, Johnpaul, Jackie and I ran the Nike Human Race 10k. The race was held in more than 20 cities around the world. I'm not sure exactly how many people did the race worldwide, I heard a million, and I think about 16,000 ran it in Chicago. I finished in 108,636 place in the world, 5,921 in Chicago, and in 2,626 place out of the Chicago women with a time of 1:o3:15. Not my best 10k time, but not too bad considering how many people were running.

It was fun getting there, because pretty much once we left our apartment to walk to the train we saw people wearing the run t-shirts. The shirts, as you can see from Jackie's, also had our bib number on them - so everyone was wearing them. It was cool to see all the people on the train heading toward Soldier Field for the race. However, it was near impossible to keep track of Jackie as I ran and we eventually lost each other around mile 3. For this reason only she finished two minutes in front of me.

Gold Medal in Sandwich Cutting

2008-08-13T19:03:00.006-05:00

Mr. H. has a knack for cutting sandwiches. First, to understand this, you'll need to know that Mr. H. makes my lunch each day (or the night before). Usually it's a sandwich and some grapes. Sometimes I also bring some baby carrots. Anyway, he likes to cut his sandwiches not down the middle or diagonally, but by cutting a little corner off.

Now, I being more of a traditionalist, like my sandwiches either cut down the middle or diagonally. But one day last week, he accidentally started to cut my sandwich the way he cuts his (we don't like the same mustard on our sandwiches, hence a his and hers sandwich). When I got to work and saw that my sandwich had not one but two cuts in it, I called him to find out why. We had a laugh and moved on.

Or so I thought. Now Mr. H. is getting creative with the knife. So far this week I've had a sandwich cut kinda squiggly with a yin yang and marked with the American flag, that was the day after it was marked with the Union Jack. Who knows what he'll come up with tomorrow.

Not feeling the love

2008-08-12T18:59:00.000-05:00

My company has decided that visiting all kinds of websites is no longer conducive to working. So I can't update my Facebook page from work. I can't blog from work, or read other's blogs from work (well not those that have a blogger.com address). They've gone all 1984 on us lately and I have to say, it's not sitting pretty with the workers. First they take away cake day and now this? Where will it end?

Sure, maybe I'll be a little more productive while I'm at work. But something is going to break this camel's back and, well, that's not going to be a pretty site.

Happy Monday?

2008-08-11T13:40:00.002-05:00

At least in prison
You get to shank people who
Really annoy you.

- from Office Haiku by James Rogauskas

How to get fired from your job in five weeks or less

2008-08-05T11:54:00.003-05:00

As promised the other day.

I recently had an encounter with a person who managed to turn off every person they came into contact with and apparently piss off enough people at the right level that they were told they probably shouldn't be working at the company anymore. It went a little something like this:

Get hired
Intimidate immediate manager
Have immediate manager try to pawn you off on the head of area
Invite yourself to a departmental meeting that is above your level
Complain when you are not being included in meetings above your level
Meet head of department (the big boss) during a meeting and proceed to tell them and others why they are wrong
Tell everyone how you did things at your previous companies
Go around an introduce yourself to everyone and try to form side pacts in what looks like an effort to play people off of one another
Get fired

See it's that easy. You too can start to enact your over-bearing personality upon others and, with any luck, you'll be told your services are no longer needed in as little as five weeks. Of course, this works best when you are within your first few weeks of working for a company since most people don't tend to rock the boat until they've been somewhere for six months or so.

Up next: How to stay employed regardless of how many people you piss off and departments you cycle through.

Happy Birthday Mr. H.

2008-07-31T14:16:00.003-05:00

Have I been remiss?

2008-07-30T08:15:00.003-05:00

Surely you have noticed I have not blogged in quite a while. Almost three weeks my my clock. In that time I have: Run a 10k, spent many days at work, attended a small wedding vows renewal ceremony, babysat my nephews and niece, dinned with my "big boss" from Paris and his partner (he's not gay, just not married to his significant other), attended long and boring meetings, worked some more, taken the car to have the emissions tested, attended a baby shower, attended the Wicker Park street fair, worked and worked some more. So really, you didn't miss much.

I'm trying to figure out how to get a raise at my office. Apparently getting a promotion and a raise means having to work long hard hours with above and beyond results. No slacking off for me. Sure, that's all good and fine, but when does it end? If it never ends, is the promotion/raise really worth it? Is it really worth it when I wake up and immediately start thinking about the things I need to do at work? Is it worth going to sleep feeling slightly guilty that I didn't check my blackberry one more time? This world of being available all the time has started me to long for the wilderness and solitude a la Walden, and I don't even like wilderness and solitude.

So, my dear readers, I give this oath that I will try harder to blog more as I know you look to me to (a) entertain you and (b) keep you informed on all things Melly, but forgive me if all my blogs are just rantings of the weirdness that is corporate America.

Next blog: How to get fired from your job in five weeks or less.

Feelin the love

2008-07-11T11:23:00.004-05:00

I just wanted to say that despite the ups and downs of all relationships, I'm really happy I'm with Mr. H. I was just reading a friend's thoughts on her recent breakup and not envying her one bit. I remember how hard it was to go through that (even that one time 15 years ago with Mr. H. way before I was Mrs. H.). It makes me appreciate what I have that much more.

Thanks Mr. H. - I love you.

Ladies & Gentlemen, George Michael

2008-07-10T09:33:00.004-05:00

That's right, I was among the lucky few (if you count several thousand people as a few) to witness George Michael in all his gorgeous Georgeness. With much thanks to my sis who bought the tickets, we had a fun time dancing to the couple of Wham tunes (Everything She Wants, Careless Whisper) and the big hits (Father Figure, Faith) . George worked the audience into a frenzy pretending he wasn't going to sing Freedom only to close his second encore with it, literally asking us to beg for the song.

I had a great time and I'm pretty sure all of the women and most of the guys in the audience enjoyed George's patented butt wiggling and hip shaking. He may be 45 (boy am I old), but he still has it. I'll be humming GM songs to myself all day, which may make being at work just a little bit nicer.

Vacation...all I ever wanted

2008-07-02T14:53:00.005-05:00

So I'm on day three of my week-long vacation and I won't bore you with the tales of working from home on Monday and taking phone calls from work on Tuesday. Let's just say I've only looked at my Blackberry a couple of times today and they seem to be coping with out me. Not thriving, but coping.

Yesterday was my brother's 17th birthday. My sister, her husband and took him to a White Sox/Indian's game. It was a good time. My sister got two guys who were very drunk and obnoxious and threatening to throw up all over the place cut off. And we had a good time listening to the four men sitting behind us talking about pretty much everything but the game. They talked about their wives and their kids, their in-laws and their jobs. I thought White Sox fans were supposed to be true baseball fans - at least that's how they characterize themselves. We might as well have been at Wrigley for all they were paying attention to the game.

Though it was a bit of a boring game until the 10th inning. It was tied up and then the Indian's got a run making it a happy birthday for my brother, who's an Indian's fan. Then, after getting two outs, they were just one out away but someone hit the ball and got on base and then another guy hit the ball and they were able to score. Or something like that. I was too busy talking to the guys behind me about if my shoes matched my outfit to pay much attention.

If you want to see more photos of the game, and witness my pitching prowess, go here.

Personal Best

2008-06-26T14:01:00.011-05:00

I'm sure you're all excited to know that I completed a 3 mile run in under 29 minutes. 28.33.16 to be exact. This is a personal best for me. I've been running on and off for several years now and after doing a little research, I've found some of my times for races I've done (please note, this is not a complete list cause I know I did the Elvis is Alive race back in 2005 and I know my sister and did a New Year's Day race that I can't seem to find the results for.)

Bucktown 5k - 9/21/03 - 34:30 - Pace 11:06
Wacky 5k - 3/7/04 - 35:10- Pace 11:19
Shamrock Shuffle 8k - 4/3/05 - 56:34 - Pace 11:22
Chinatown 5k - 7/16/05 - 31:18 - Pace 10:04
Trick-or-Treat Trot 5k - 10/30/05 - 44:49 - Pace 14:25
Wacky 5k - 3/4/07 - 34:12 - Pace 11:00
Walter Payton 5k - 9/15/07 - 30:27.51 - Pace 9:48
Trick-or-Treat Trot 10k - 10/28/07 - 1:04:26 - Pace 10:22
Turkey Trot 8k - 11/23/07 - 53:19 - Pace 10:43
She's Got Sole 8k - 6/22/05 - 49:19.5 - Pace 9:55

As you'll notice, for the most part I bounce between 10 and 11 minute miles (that Trick-or-Treat Trot in 2005 doesn't count because I was running with a girl from Girls on the Run and she was holding me back). You might also notice that for the She's Got Sole 8k I broke my 10 minute mile time and actually ran at a 9:55 pace. Very exciting for me. So when I got on the treadmill on Tuesday to do my three miles, I stepped it up a bit and finished with a 9:31 pace. I doubt I'll be qualifying for the Olympics, or hell, even placing in my age group that has women finishing 5k in 20 minutes. I might be able to take a couple of minutes off my time, but not 10. Regardless, it makes me happy to be in the sub 10 group. Those people are a bunch of wimps! Not really, it just makes me feel better to be able to beat someone, even if it is the women in the 65 to 70 age group.

Vacation Blues

2008-06-25T11:44:00.002-05:00

Next week I'm on vacation. We're not really going anywhere, just taking some time off, me and Mr. H. But I'm excited about that cause I'll get some stuff done. I plan on regaling you each and every day of my vacation with exciting photos of me catching up on my reading, doing the ironing that's been piling up and going to the Taste of Chicago with all the other hordes of people who don't have to work. I might even take a nap or two cause I don't normally get to do that kind of thing (apparently they frown on it at work).

Unfortunately I have the pre-vacation blues. I have things to do at work but all I can think about it how nice it's going to be on Friday afternoon when I bid this place adieu for six whole days (that's right, I'm taking a six day vacation so I don't have to come back to work on a Monday cause that' just sucks). Why is it so hard to chug away at work when you have the prospect of a few days off? What makes it even worse is that I have a few things I totally need to get done before I leave which means if I don't get on the ball I'll be super busy on Friday, which is going to suck even worse than it does now.

OK, that's all I needed. A little self pep talk. I'm better. Back to work!

Sonic Scam

2008-06-18T15:24:00.004-05:00

Have you seen those commericals for Sonic? You know, the ones with either the husband and wife where the husband's a little less than on the ball or two guys where one guy is kinda dumb and they're always talking about Sonic's shakes and what not? Yeah, you know those commercials. But do you know what a Sonic is?

You see, I'm from Oklahoma originally and so is Sonic. I used to love Sonic and when I go a visiting family in either OK or TX I'll probably end of at a Sonic at least once (this is primarily because there is hardly anything but fast food down there and those people live in their cars - and Sonic's are drive ins, the kind where they put the tray of food on your driver-side window). Anyway, when I started seeing those commercials in Chicago, I figured there was a Sonic or two in the greater Chicagoland area. BUT I just read a story in the Trib that Sonic is going to be opening a store in a couple of burbs later this year. Wait - why are they advertising here if there are no restaurants near by? I checked their web site and the closest Sonic to my zip code is in Lafayette, Indiana which is 115 miles away. They can't possibly be in the same TV market as us.

There have been a couple of times I've thought to myself, wow, that shake looks good, next time I'm out in the burbs I should find a Sonic and get me one. The only reason this hasn't happened is (a) I rarely go to the burbs and (b) it's not really that big of a hankering, more just a passing thought.

So have they been running these commercials just to whet our appetite for the last year? That seems a little extreme? Or does Sonic have so much money to burn they figure, what if someone from 60618 happens to be driving through mid-Illinois and sees one of our signs - they'll know what great shakes, and sorta annoying ads, we have. Well no matter. They'll still be in the burbs and I still won't go that far for a shake and I guess I'll have to get used to the ads as now there will actually be Sonic's in the greater Chicagoland area and I doubt they'll pull their advertising from a market they actually serve...or will they?

Snot Nose Kids

2008-06-06T15:55:00.003-05:00

As you may have heard, some Northwestern graduates don't think Daley is good enough to be speaking at their commencement (Trib article). At the time I thought what a lot of people thought - wow, how stuck up can you be. The funny thing was if any of the kids quoted in the original story had said they disagreed with Daley being the speaker because of the corruption in the Mayor's office, I'd totally agreed with them. But no, they were upset because they were expecting the Dalai Lama. Seriously? Now this morning I hear a news story that some of Harvard's matriculating class are pissed that J.K. Rowling isn't special enough to be wearing the crimson robes (NPR story). One of the quotes from the overly educated brats was something like "she's just a writer of children's books, she hasn't won a Pulitzer or anything."

Good lord, what does one have to do to please these people? Apparently win a Pulitzer or be the Dalai Lama. Sure, I realize they have paid (or their parent's have paid) a lot of money for their big-time degrees. I know that graduating from college is the biggest thing that's happened to them so far. But honestly, it pains my heart to think of the brats we're raising in this country. It makes me want to not have kids and send them to Ivy League (or wanna be Ivy League) schools. I'll have to make a note.

Jobs for the intern

2008-06-05T16:03:00.002-05:00

We have an intern at work. He got the job not because he sooo wants to do corporate communications, or he's looking to break into the exciting world of corporate marketing and events (like everyone his age who doesn't know what he wants to do, he wants to go into advertising). No, he got the job because (a) his mom works here and (b) the woman who was our first pick in the nepotistic resume pile (actually has a marketing degree) was asking us to wait on finalizing her offer for the full-time job interview she had line up later in the month. No such luck honey I said, we'll go with number two.

So we got Agnew (name changed to protect the innocent). He's a nice enough kid, goes to some little liberal arts school on the East Coast. He lets me know when he needs something to do. Problem is, every job I give him he finishes too fast. He needs to learn how to pace himself. I can't keep thinking of stuff to give him. It's interfering with me getting my job done. And I'm not the type of person to ask him to go get coffee for me or something like that. Though maybe I should be. Maybe he can pick up my dry cleaning. Maybe he can get my car washed (though Mr. H. and I just did that - no bother, he can clean it again!). Maybe I can get him to write my blog. I wonder what he'd say. He's probably complain about what a stupid job this is and how he shouldn't have listened to his mother but continued to work in the stock room at Bed Bath and Beyond. There he could at least wear jeans everyday and wouldn't have to sit at a desk staring at a computer screen waiting for someone to give him something to do other than entering crap into a spreadsheet or writing dumb stories about a guy who climbed Mount Everest. Of course, the pay is MUCH better here than his old summer job, so he might not.

The Lava Lamp

2008-05-30T11:13:00.003-05:00

The lava lamp sitting next to the TV was rarely turned on. Once it had been used often - during parties, when he was playing video games, when he had a girl over. But lately, none of those things were happening much, so he just left it off, sitting there, the wax a solid lump at the bottom.

He bought the lamp several years ago because he thought they were fun, kinda kitschy and he figured if nothing else, it'd give him some extra entertainment when he got high. At first his friends thought it was a little stupid. It was just a lamp filled with green moving slime. They didn't understand how all the hippies in the 60's could have thought these things were fascinating. But then, one night, in the midst of a debate about justice, Brian made a comparison between fairness and the lava lamp. His argument said that justice could be just as malleable as the lava in the lamp. It could change with seemingly invisible forces and what we once accepted as just was now something completely different. This incongruous comparison sparked an hours-long conversation where the lava lamp was used as a metaphor for everything.

The lava lamp, or the goop inside the lamp, was like Barack and Hillary - competing entities forced to work together within the confines of the democratic party. It was like the lack of beer in the refrigerator - annoying yet fascinating. He kept a list of all the ways the world was like the lava lamp. Each weekend, they'd come up with more and more examples. Eventually the list started to get dumb. Entries like "the lava lamp is like oil on top of a pan of water" was true but hardly a revelation.

As the ideas started to dry up, the lamp was turned on less and less and his friends moved on to other amusements. Lately it was kicking each other in the balls to see who could best withstand the pain. He'd taken to wearing a cup most of the time. He was thinking of selling the lava lamp on Craig's list and getting a new set of friends.

Richer than I thought

2008-05-29T10:04:00.003-05:00

The other day, Mr. H. sent me this link: www.globalrichlist.com. Have you ever seen it? It's pretty cool, and it definitely puts even what you think is the paltry amount you make into perspective. Even if you were to take out all of our so called high taxes and just put in your take home pay, you probably still are doing better than most of the people in the world. It's nice to be rich isn't it?

Indecision

2008-05-15T18:27:00.004-05:00

Why is it that sometimes people get on the train and then look around at all of the empty seats trying to decide which is the best one to sit in? Tonight on my way home not one but two guys did this. Meanwhile I'm standing behind both of them waiting for them to make up their minds. The first guy couldn't decide if he wanted to face backwards or sit in the hobo corner. He chose the hobo corner. The second guy then had to decide if he wanted to sit facing backwards or in towards the middle of the car. He chose facing backwards presumably so he could stare out the window - which is exactly what he's doing now. Finally I got to sit in the facing inward seat and here we are. I should have sat down next to one of them and then moved to the other after a couple of stops.

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Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

OK

2008-05-14T16:00:00.001-05:00

That's just too cool.

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Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

2008-05-14T15:57:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting at my desk playing around with all things Google. I'm seeing how the mobile blogger works. Supposedly I can send an email to blogger and they'll post it to my blog. If this works you'll be getting all kinds of blogging updates from me.

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Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Letter from a Damen Ave. Bathroom

2008-05-13T13:24:00.003-05:00

While confined here in my bathroom, I came across your years' worth of dirt and grime. Seldom do I pause while cleaning the bathroom to respond to previous tenants' filth.

I think I should indicate why I am here scrubbing the Bathroom, since you seemed content with its disgusting state. I am here because filth is here. I am aware that the cleanliness of this one room is interrelated to all other rooms in the Apartment. I can not sit idly by in the Kitchen and not be concerned about what happens in the Bathroom. Dirt anywhere is a threat to sanitation everywhere.

You deplore the efforts taking place in the Bathroom. But your actions fail to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about these efforts. It is unfortunate that cleaning is taking place in the Bathroom, but it is even more unfortunate that I was left with no alternative.

In any massive cleaning effort there are four basic steps: assessing the problem; gathering materials; donning of gloves; and direct action. We have gone through all the steps in the Bathroom. There can be no gainsaying the fact that immense filth engulfs this room. The Bathroom is probably the most thoroughly disgusting room in the Apartment. Its ugly record of unsanitary conditions is widely known. These are the hard, brutal facts. On the basis of these conditions, you, the former tenants should have cleaned. But you consistently refused to engage in even rudimentary cleaning.

Then, last April, came the opportunity of the landlord to right your wrongs. In the course of a lease signing, certain promises were made by the landlord -- for example, to clean the apartment before we moved in. As the weeks went by, we realized we were the victims of a broken promise. A quick sponge wiped over allowed the underlying dirt to return. As in so many past experiences, our hopes had been blasted, and the shadow of deep disappointment settled upon us. We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would present ourselves armed with cleaning supplies. Mindful of the difficulties involved, we decided to undertake a process of Bathroom purification. We began on the wall behind the door, and we repeatedly asked ourselves: "Are you able to clean years of cobwebs and hair from under the sink?" "Are you able to endure what must be urine splatters on the wall next to the toilet?" "If the stains do not come off the floor, can you live with that?"'

You speak of our activity in the Bathroom as extreme. At first I was disappointed that fellow Apartment dwellers could see my efforts as those of an extremist. I began thinking about the fact that I stand in the middle of two opposing forces in the Bathroom community. One is the force of complacency, made up in part by tenants who, as a result of long years of living in squalor, are so drained of self respect and a sense of hygiene that they have adjusted to filth. The other force is one of bitterness and hatred toward tenants who do not keep their apartments tidy. It is expressed by Landlords who have lost faith in tenants.

I wish you had taken it upon yourself to clean the Bathroom. Yet, one day this Apartment will recognize its real heroes. They will be the scrub brush with the noble sense of purpose that enables it to wash away years of soap scum. They will be wringed and battered sponges who rose up with a sense of dignity and decided not to fear the underside of the claw foot tub. One day the Apartment will know that when these forgotten implements of washing found their way to the Bathroom they were standing up for what is best in the American dream and for the most sacred values in our fight against germs, thereby bringing our Apartment back to those great wells of sanitation which were dug deep by Clorox and Lysol.

Objects in mirror no longer there

2008-05-06T15:49:00.004-05:00

The red jetta has suffered an indignity of reflective proportions. At some point between Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, someone decided to rip the passenger side mirror off said jetta. They didn't quite accomplish their feat as it was still attached but hanging forlornly down. Mild outrage consumed me as I pictured some young kids walking by the car and picking on mine rather than the others. Was this a not so subtle message to move the car? It had been parked in the same spot for a week. Or was it a bout of drunken vandalism - there is a four a.m. bar just around the corner. Mr. H. doesn't think we were the only ones targeted, which means it was probably kids, or drunks, or drunk kids. But I don't care about those other cars. I only care about my ability to parallel park without the aid of a side mirror.

I also wonder if possibly it was the car trying to pull them plug on herself as Mr. H. and I have been discussing purchasing a newerish car. I guess we should stop having those conversations while we're driving.

Blonde on Blond

2008-05-02T10:00:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, after a meeting with some IBM sales people, one of them, a brunette woman, explained to some of my coworkers that she was late to the meeting because she "totally had a blond moment and went to the wrong building." She was standing right next to me and had been talking to me right before she said this. I wasn't really upset, but I did have a second of "I can't believe she just said that" incredulity. She promptly apologized and later treated me to a Starbucks.

Will the discrimination never end?

Note to Self

2008-04-24T13:43:00.003-05:00

Next time you lift weights with Sara, take it easy. She's way stronger than you and your arms will hurt for the next two days.

Next I'll be in the basement with my red stapler

2008-04-22T15:22:00.004-05:00

Recently our IT Security team has started to crack down on what we can and can not do from our computers at work. Apparently some people use their computers to do stuff they are not supposed to do at work - like make trades or share information about clients or whatever via personal email accounts (which are not tracked). Sure I understand that. But I don't have access to that kind of information, and, as usual, they must punish everyone for the faults of a few, and now I can't check my Hotmail at work. Fine. Not that big of a deal, just an annoyance. But then they went out and started blocking a bunch of web sites. And I'm not just talking about the porn all the traders were looking at. No, now we can't go to TMZ.com (which I rarely visited) or even Post Secret. Apparently PS had adult and mature content on it. So does the Tribune, but I can still read the paper if I want.

So, what I take from all of this is that they (a) want to be able to track each and every keystroke on my computer and who I'm talking to and about what and (b) only do work while at work (even if it's my lunch break). What kind of repressive regime is this?

You like me, you really like me.

2008-04-17T15:04:00.002-05:00

I got this comment on yesterday's post: This post is likeable, and your blog is very interesting, congratulations :-). I will add in my blogroll =). If possible gives a last there on my blog, it is about the Câmera Digital, I hope you enjoy. The address is http://camera-fotografica-digital.blogspot.com. A hug.

I'm glad my blog is likable. It's what I aim for. We should all reward Camera Digital for his/her very insightful comment by checking out his/her blog. It's not in English, but it has cool pictures of digital cameras. Today's camera is the Nikon D40x - which just happens to be the SLR digital camera I'm lusting after.

Zero Days Accident Free

2008-04-16T14:15:00.003-05:00

No, I didn't have an accident - just witnessed.

It all happened as I decided to free myself from the desk for a few minutes and get outside and enjoy the 70 degree weather (and 30 mph winds). So I take a little walk around the block. It helps me clear my head and get back into the game for the next three hours of work (or at least prepares me to sit here and putz around while I wait for five o'clock arrive). Anyway, the building next to my office is under construction. Surprise of all surprises here in the West Loop, they're building condos. I'm walking underneath the for your protection, sidewalk covering scaffolding when out of nowhere (not really but I don't know where it came from so it might as well be nowhere) something comes crashing down into the middle of the street missing a taxi by mere inches. I let out an involuntary "WHOA" and see bits of plastic bouncing up and a larger chunk of something skittering across the street. At first I thought the taxi had hit a large pothole and something fell off the car. The taxi must have thought the same thing because it came to a rather abrupt halt. But as I walk closer, I see that it's a hard hat with a visor. The hard hat made it intact, the visor did not. One of the construction workers picks up the hard hat and comments that it sure is windy. Apparently the hat blew off of one of the upper floors of the building. I was just glad there wasn't a person attached to it, and that I was under that handy-dandy scaffolding.

Happy Tax Day

2008-04-15T11:47:00.004-05:00

This year Mr. H. and I experienced the joy of not having loaned the federal government, interest free, any money. Fortunately I like to do my taxes early, so I had warning and was able to plan for the inevitable payment that must be made. Amendments were made to the W2 and next year I am hoping to come out even (I don't mind not getting a refund, just mind having to send money away). To be fair, we got about $60 back from the State of Illinois, so it's not all bad. Of course, Mr. H. and I are always looking for some good deductions but alas we have none. I don't understand why people get a credit for driving a hybrid car but I get NOTHING for riding my bike to work (ok even if occasionally, it's still something). Apparently fish do not count as dependents and buying a new Calvin Klein suit does not count as a "uniform" for work (though it totally should).

May the tax man be kinder to you than he was to us.

Franglish

2008-04-10T13:55:00.003-05:00

As many of you know, I work for a company that is based in Paris. As such, I deal with a lot of people for whom English is not their first language. It has its fun sides - I get to remember the five plus years of French I took (you'd think I'd be fluent). But it also has its downsides. Case in point - I edit our newsletters, many of the stories being written by some of our French employees. Hence I have to translate sentences like this: Almost two High Street clothing shops a year are opening for business and taking up their swinging signs. It is the most visible signal that Paris’s most famous avenue is in a moving state.

I'm not totally sure what the author is trying to say here. I assume "High Street" is another name for the Champs Elysées - but I'm not sure. I've translated "Taking up their swinging signs" to either mean they are making their signs smaller, or maybe they're putting their swinging signs away. Maybe the signs are swingers (if you know what I mean) and they're taking them up on their offer. I'm definitely intrigued by the "famous avenue" that's in a "moving state." I take this to mean that they've installed moving sidewalks along the Champs Elysées which will make lugging all those shopping bags easier.

Moving Sale

2008-04-07T16:01:00.011-05:00

As you know, Mr. H. and I are in the process of moving. And if there's one thing I hate about moving, it's moving stuff that I don't want. So in the spirit of Spring Cleaning and recycling, here are some things we're looking to get rid of. Feel free to contact me if you want something, but hurry, I've posted on Craig's List!

First up are several gadgets taking up space.

2 iMac remotes - Free
If you have an iMac that has the IR sensor for a remote cause you're just too far away (or too lazy) to turn up your iTunes by hand, AND you've lost your remote, well this one's for you. I can't sell these cause they were given to me. I can't use these because my iMac doesn't have the darn IF sensor.

UPDATE: One has been spoken for already, get the other before it's gone!

iPod Shuffle charger - $5
You should get one for your office cause you don't want to be stuck with no tunes on the way home. I'd keep this if someone at the gym hadn't liberated me from my iPod shuffle and I didn't already have one. I'm thinking of getting another shuffle, but they come with a charger, so I'll still have two. If I decide not to get another shuffle, and you're thinking you need three, one for the office, one for home and one for your mom's house, well, we'll talk.

Brick charger for your 2nd or 3rd gen. iPod - Free
Again, if you have an older iPod and you're looking for a replacement brick with the firewire connection (you know what I'm talking about if you have one) look no further. Somehow I ended up with two (oh, that's right, cause I already went through an iPod before this one) and only need the one charger for the iPod we never use. It's also useful as a weapon, or a paperweight or as art.

Palm Zire with charger and software - $10
Don't have a smart phone? Want to try getting organized in a not new and not fangled way? Then try what used to be all the rage and now is just a passing phase. More fun than an Apple Newton, it's a Palm Zire. Mine is actually blue cause I didn't want to jump on that "everything's white because Apple started making white stuff" bandwagon.

Next up we've got some stuff that's just lying around.

Leather Jacket - $100 obo
Think crotch rocket, not Harley and you'll get the idea. It's black with a white stripe on the sleeve. In it you'll look cool whether you're riding your motorcycle or just peddlin' your bike. Mr. H. bought it and wore it once before his arms grew. I knew he'd never wear it but I just can't say no to his jacket obsession. Sorry, no picture here, Mr. H. won't model for me.

Full Silver Sable & The Wild Pack comic book collection - $50 obo
Sorry dad, but these are just gathering dust. If you want 'em back, let me know and I'll save them for you. Otherwise, pick up this coveted mint condition collection of comic books. Lovingly stored with backboards and plastic sleeves. I'd tell you what's in them to make you want them even more, but I've never read them so I can't.

I'm sure over the coming weeks we'll be looking to get rid of more stuff, so keep coming back. These hot deals won't last long.

A novel way to start a day

2008-03-26T12:21:00.004-05:00

What's better than having no hot water when it's 30 degrees outside and having to boil water to quickly give yourself a sponge bath (don't worry, I wore lots of deodorant)? Calling your building engineer dude to have him basically tell you that yes you're an idiot and yes he knows there's no hot water. Guess that's why we're moving. Note to the renters out there, stay away from Eagle Realty.

My Two Cents

2008-03-24T13:00:00.003-05:00

It's interesting to me how biased the news media can be. I was watching Real Time with Bill Maher yesterday and the panel was discussing Obama and Rev. Wright. Rep. Barney Frank (D-MA) made comments about Wright's sermon's, particularly his 9/11 sermon where he talks about violence begetting violence. I'm sure you've heard some of the sound bites from his sermon, but have you heard the whole thing? You can here. I have a hard time believing the Rep. Frank and Maher haven't heard the whole thing. And yet they insist on taking things he said out of context - Rep. Barney said he didn't agree with Rev. Wright's statement about America being murderer's (which, in my mind, doesn't even matter if it is taken out of context - it's still correct if you're talking about our foreign policy which Wright was - but that's another blog for another day). Rep. Barney didn't give the full flavor of the sermon and Maher did correct him. Maybe most people watching Real Time have already heard the full sermons and so know what the context behind Rev. Wright's "contorversial" statements is. But I doubt that most of the people watching Fox and all the other news channels that picked up on the original story have. I hadn't until I went and looked them up on the internet. Are there things he said I don't agree with, sure. There are things Mr. H. says I don't agree with. It's not the end of the world. And it certainly shouldn't be the end of Obama's candidacy. What it should be the end of are people unwilling to say anything about a media that no only skews the news (in the case of Fox) but take the easy route out (in the case of all the others) and don't report the whole story.

Oops

2008-03-20T15:53:00.003-05:00

You know that feeling when you're at Starbucks ordering a venti vanilla latte and you go into your wallet to pay for your over-priced caffeine fix and you realize that your ATM card isn't in the handy dandy spot it's supposed to be in, and so you spend the next few anxiety-filled minutes while you hand the cashier a 20 mentally reviewing the last several days to figure out when the last time you used your ATM card finally realizing as your change is handed back to you that you used it on Monday night at the ATM across the street from your office to get money for the cab you were going to have to take (and expense later) home from the "work dinner" you were going to, so barring Mr. H. going into your wallet and taking out your ATM card - and why would he do that since he has his own - you're pretty sure you left it in the ATM on Monday (it's now Thursday) but you looked at your bank account yesterday and didn't notice any weird transactions so you hop on over to the bank across the street from your office and hoping against hope that they have it, walk in to find out that sure enough they found on it Tuesday morning and destroyed it so, whew, you're safe. You know that feeling? No? Just me?

Success

2008-03-13T11:29:00.002-05:00

Believe me, I don't want to move because moving is a pain in the butt. But I want to move cause I'm just not happy where I am. So we're moving. We found a place in North Center and I'm actually excited because it's a good neighborhood and a nice apartment. It would be great if we weren't paying so much in rent (it's not crazy amounts, but less is always more in rent - except when you move into a neighborhood that makes you sad and then less is less).

Our landlord, Jim, seems like a nice guy. He liked us right away and said we could even pick out paint colors for the walls. So, if you know of any great colors we should paint our place, let me know.

Not trying to be a martyr, but...

2008-03-05T11:22:00.004-06:00

I wonder sometimes what you feel, my loyal readers, when you come to my blog and there's nothing new. It is sadness? Anger? Rage? As I've said in several blogs this last month, things at work have been rather hectic. Who knew that something I started to fill up the little spare time I had during a work day, would be decimated when I no longer had any spare time and even some of my home time was being taken up by work. Who knew that it would become something I feel guilty about because I want you, my loyal readers, to be entertained by my musings and I just have not been able to deliver lately. If it makes you feel better I haven't been able to do much of anything else either. No reading the Consumerist Blog, or the Trib. Very little TV watching and only cleaning and ironing on a needs basis. It's a good thing I have Mr. H. or the house would be a total mess, I'd have no clean clothes and I'd have to go out to lunch every day.

Because I've been so busy, it's been difficult to get to the gym. On top of work, Mr. H. and I are, unfortunately, moving again. We're not as enamored with our neighborhood as we would like to be, so we've spent the last two evenings going to look at apartments. As you know from last year's entries, it's so much fun. Anyway, not going to the gym just makes me sad and even more stressed. So it's become a vicious cycle I'm hoping to break soon. As a matter of fact, I was going to break it today by going to Yoga at noon, but I just got a call from an IT guy saying we need to send an email out company wide within the next half hour so yoga probably is out.

Ah, such is the life of a high-powered internal communication peon.

MIA

2008-02-26T08:44:00.003-06:00

Yes, I've not been very good about blogging lately. I know my loyal readers understand that work has been rather hectic lately. And I appreciate that.

I did, however, find the time to get away for the weekend to the Kohler Waters Spa in Kohler, Wisconsin (thanks to a Christmas/birthday gift from my sister!). It was wonderfully relaxing...OK, at first it was a little stressful because (a) spending good quality time with your mom and your sister can be stressful until you get all your mom/sister stuff out of the way and (b) everyone was walking around in their robe all weekend and I kinda felt pretentious and stupid doing that but by the end of Saturday I just let it go and got into the spirit of the spa. I had a nice facial and a very relaxing massage. While I wasn't being pampered, I padded around the spa sitting in the sauna, steam room, whirlpool and actually exercising (I did this in work out clothes cause it's a little hard to run on a treadmill in a robe).

I came back to work relaxed. Actually, a little too relaxed, I was kinda tired yesterday. Today I'm back on top of my game (whatever that means) and am ready to pound out this project that's eating up all of my blogging time. It will (with all of your luck sent my way) be completed this week, and I'll be back to my previously scheduled blogging routine.

A book I probably won't read

2008-02-19T11:45:00.003-06:00

I heard this story the other day on the news about this recent college grad who now has a book deal about how he gave up his comfortable life to see if he could make it as a poor person. (You can read the story here.) He gave himself some rules - no mention of his education, only $25 bucks, no credit cards - and some goals - be in an apartment, get a car, save some money. He more than accomplished his goals (by the end of his "expirment" he had bought a truck and saved $5,000), but I find all this very disengenious. His message is "I can do this, so can you." If his message was aimed at the middle class who struggle to save money, I wouldn't have a problem with it. But since it so clearly comes across as a way people, if they just weren't lazy, could get out of poverty (he says he did it as a reaction to the book Nickle and Dimed), it's insulting. It's insulting to poor people that they are poor just because they are lazy. He seems to be saying, hey, if you're poor and you work hard enough, you won't be poor anymore. Forget the fact that he has several things that a lot of poor people don't, like a college education (even if he didn't "use" it, he had it), he' white (sure there are poor white people, but let's not kid ourselves that this isn't an advantage for him), he had the attitude of "if it gets really bad, I can just quit" (which he did after 10 months when he found out about a family illness).

Maybe he'll use his attitude, education and resources to help those who are poor not because they chose to be, but because of circumstances beyond their control.

Pancake Tuesday

2008-02-06T16:23:00.000-06:00

You may not know this, but Mr. H. is from England. Have I mentioned that before? Well, apparently in England they celebrate Pancake Tuesday the day before Ash Wednesday just like other people celebrate Mardi Gras (well, with less flashing and beads). Anyway, a few years ago my sister learns of this particular tradition and decided to take it on full force. So for the past few years she's been cooking up pancakes (they're really more like crepes, but you know they English and the French don't get along so lord forbid they use a French word for something) and filling them with delectable goodness such as cheese and chicken and seafood. Yes, they are not your typical crepes/pancakes. To make the night even more special, she invites over her favorite English friends - but since Joseph Fiennes and Daniel Radcliffe never show up she has to do with Mr. H. and the couple of other British ex-pats she knows living here. She does it all up nice too with hand-made invitations and boxes of goodies for the Brits to take home with them.

This year's festivities were doubly exciting because it was not only Super Tuesday, which allowed us to talk politics with four people who can't even vote in this country, but Mr. H's brother, little Mr. H. (Little Mr H. being a complete misnomer as said brother is taller and bigger than Mr. H. However, he is still younger, so qualifies for the "little" title.) was in town visiting. He's lived in this country since he was about nine so has no English accent to speak of. It's weird, he sounds like an American, looks like an American yet isn't an American. Oh well.

The best part of stuffing yourself on my sister's wonderful pancakes on Tuesday is it makes fasting for forty days not as difficult (not that I'm actually fasting ... I'm just saying, if I were, it would be easier.)

What...the Giants Won?

2008-02-04T17:01:00.000-06:00

Mr. H. and I were too busy white-knuckle driving our way back from the west 'burbs to care what happened in the fourth quarter. As luck would have it, that was the most interesting quarter (the first three kinda being lame). Anyway, I've learned two things from this experience (a) don't go to the 'burbs to watch a football game cause you're just going to have to come back and (2) if you do go to the 'burbs to watch a football game, you might as well stay until the end because if you leave (c) something interesting will happen and (4) parking will be just as bad regardless of what time you get home.

Super Bowl Sunday

2008-02-03T17:03:00.000-06:00

Pregame
I'm out in the burbs at our friends John's parents house. We're in the finished basement with a what looks to be 50 inch flat screen TV. All is good. The chili is cooking, the beer is cold and the Jello shots are chilled. I'll see you back when the game starts, unless something interesting happens before the game start.

Ok Jordan Sparks is singing. I guess winning American Idol gets you something. Theirs Eli and Tom. And now the commercials start. The Prison Break commercial was kinda funny. I don't watch that show, so it doesn't mean that much to me.

Here's the coin toss. I think it's a quarter, oh, no, they make a special coin just for the game. That's silly. The Giants won the toss. We've already started the betting here. Pat and Greg had a bet on what the coin would be. Greg won 5 bucks on the coin toss. Tom C's face looks better now that they've completed the skin grafts.

1st Quarter
The kick off and NY has the ball on the something, I can't tell, the TV's so small. Oh, it looks like they're on the 20, and Eli hands off. How much throwing do we think he's going to be doing this game? Bilicheck (I have no idea how to spell his name) has a red sweatshirt on. But the sleeves are still cut off, so that's good. Henry, the baby, has a red white and blue sleeper on and we've all decided that he's rooting for whomever wins. He's keeping his options open. Outside of the baby, the women are talking about the cool tattoos the players have.

Bud Light commercial - guy setting everything on fire gets a laugh from everyone and a "that's what's going to happen after you eat John's chili"

Audi commercial - weird, all the guys want the cars.

NY just picked up the first down and we see a shot of Payton. He's silently crying into his beer. Manning just got away from the blitz and another first down. We're all rooting for NY (except Henry who's hedged his bets) because really, who wants New England to win? Giants are on the board first with a field goal.

Diet Pepsi Max - mild chuckles

OK - I'm taking a chili break. I may be breathing fire when I get back.

Well, the unstoppable Patriots are on the board now and we've got more movie commercials. Oh Angelina you're so cute.

Oh, it's the big Go Daddy commercial, nothing will ever beat the original commercial. I my official feeling is the Dell commercial sucks. Good lord, the Super Bowl is nothing but commercials really. We like the cars.com commercial and really like the Tide talking stain commercial. Now the boys are taking bets on what song Tom Petty will sing during half time. Now Greg's trying to help me blog by pointing out all the famous people and now Manning just threw a crazy pass and some guy (81) made a crazy catch - oh Toomer - "it's not a toomer."

Damn - manning just threw an interception.

We're ready for the Budweiser commercials. Aw the dog's helping the horse make the team for next year. And now we've got yet another movie commercial. Seriously, Robert Downy Jr. is no super hero.

Well, NE didn't score after getting the interception, but then the Giants fumbled the ball.

Now there's a heart running around, ah a Career Builder ad which John says is stupid because you're not supposed to like your job. Now Naomi Campbell is drink life water and dancing to Thriller. A little weird.

Blogging during the Super Bowl isn't as much fun as blogging during a fight. There's a lot more going on during a fight. Oh - pretty boy Brady just got sacked, twice! Wow, there's a chance for the Giants if they keep that up.

Week from Hell if Hell were covered in 10 inches of snow

2008-02-01T14:53:00.001-06:00

Actually, it hasn't been that bad. I've seen worse (like last week). Actually, I'm kinda excited. But it's a hesitant excitement. Things are getting interesting (in a good way) at work, but, as past experiences have taught me, I am a little wary of any change. Excited, but wary.

I remember being in fourth grade at John Adams Elementary. It was a big class, probably 40 or more students. One day, early in the year, several of us were, maybe 15 or 20 of us were taken aside and told that we would have a new teacher. They decided the class size was too big and as of Monday were splitting up our class. We all felt really special. I remember walking back into the room smiling and eager to move. The non special students had to stay in this same 'ole classroom.

So on Monday we reported to our new classroom, with Mrs. Disch. She was totally different that our previous teacher. She was young, just out of college and wore her hair in a side ponytail (this was 198x after all). She had all these great ideas for things we were going to do. We were going to have play areas with a grocery store and post office and puppet theater. She was an eager new teacher. But like a lot of eager people, she promised more than she could deliver and I don't think we ever saw the grocery store or post office or puppet theater. That isn't to say she wasn't a good teacher. I learned how to read and add (well for the most part) and the time that I forgot my lunch on a field trip day, she had an extra lunch to spare just in case. But in the end, it wasn't all that great being special. I still had to go to school and do work.

So yes, while I'm excited by these thrilling times at work, I'd rather not be too special.

Week from Hell if Hell were -10 degrees

2008-01-25T13:42:00.000-06:00

Actually, my hell would be -10 degrees. I can take the heat, but this cold is another thing.

Anyway, it's 1:43 on Friday, and thus far this week I have managed to

arrange a party for everyone in the Chicago office at Union Station for Monday
arrange a press lunch for Monday
yell at caterers
print out and bind numerous presentations
send a last minute email out to all our customers (not as easy as it sounds)
cajole accounts payable to cut checks on the same day so I can pay vendors
not blow up at frenchie even though he really deserved it
not freeze to death

I have not however had a chance to go to the gym or go to yoga. I feel like a big flat slob. Even though I have managed to get out of the office each day by 5 or 5:15, I've been getting in early and am so brain dead by the end of the day, I just fathom going to the gym. Yoga at noon just wasn't doable.

The good news is, my boss is back on Monday. The bad news is his boss and our new CEO is in town for the week and we've got all these meetings going on (none of which I'm going to be involved in) but that means my boss will be all tied up and so people coming and looking for him will continue to turn to me and my other coworkers. Let me tell you, they just don't like it when you say you don't know. Even when you say the helpful, let me find out, they don't like it. They just want to know now.

But whatever, it's almost over for a couple of days. I'm not anticipating having to work much this weekend (never say never though). And while next week will be hectic, I'm hoping not as bad as this week. You see what it's done to my blogging.

Could it get any colder?

2008-01-20T12:25:00.000-06:00

I mean seriously? (Is it a bad sign when you start to talk about the weather on your blog?) I am sitting in my brother-in-law's place practically freezing. I have my shawl on (which is basically a big blanket). I've had more coffee than is good for you and I dread going outside to go over to my sister-in-law's to watch the football games. I could just stay here, but Sheppard's pie is over at her house. The only thing Adam has to offer is a can of beans.

We're getting ready to leave in a few minutes so I just wanted to check in, let you know I hadn't frozen yet. Keep warm and go Bears (OK...Packers).

Saturday Working, Cleveland Working

2008-01-19T14:09:00.000-06:00

It's Saturday and I'm working. I'm in Cleveland and I'm working. It's Saturday in Cleveland and I'm working.

Mr. H. and I made a trip to Cleveland to visit his family. (We would see my friend Melissa and her baby Wyatt, but she never calls me back.) Anyway, things at work have been kinda hectic and now that our company is headquartered in Paris and Monday is not a holiday for the rest of the world, AND my boss is officially on holiday the second the Packer's start playing tomorrow night (and not back in the office until January 28), I have been tasked with, wait, let me check the list he left me, more than a dozen things to do. Now all of this doesn't have to be done this weekend. Most of it is stuff that has to happen next week. But I thought I'd get a leg up and do some work today. Also, I ran out of room in my work email box and it wasn't going to let me send any more emails unless I deleted some.

So I hauled myself and my computer and my SecureID fob off to Caribou Coffee (actually I would have gone to Starbucks, but Caribou is closer) so I could log on the the Net and get some work done.

When I walked in it was packed. For some reason this is the place all the Eastern European men (maybe Russian, I'm not sure) who live in Lakewood hang out. I'm not sure why, but they always have. Actually, when I used to live here, I don't ever remember seeing large numbers Eastern European men about. But I've been gone for a long time, so maybe there's some Lakewood/Russia exchange program I don't know about. Anyway, all the tables were taken because these guys sit around and drink coffee and play cards and dominoes. It's quite the atmosphere. But I was in luck. See, Mr. H's family is rather large. He has seven or eight siblings (depending on how you count and what kind of mood he's in) and several step bros/sis's. Well, Jenny, one of the step sis's, was sitting here studying and so I was able to snag a table with her. I felt like I was back in college. Except in college I didn't have a cool laptop that I could wirelessly log on to the Net. I don't think there was wireless back then and Lord knows I barely knew what the Net was in college. There definitely weren't blogs and an over abundance of coffee houses to write your blogs from.

It's nice and cozy here (I'm sitting by the ubiquitous Caribou fireplace) and I managed to (a) do a presentation and (b) delete a bunch of email. It says I'm back down to 82% of my capacity. I was trying for 50% but I'll take what I can get.

Now the Russian's are gone and the kids have invaded (high schoolers and younger), so I might head back to the house where the rest of the H's are hanging.

No worries, I've got more work to do tomorrow or at least Monday, so you'll get another thrilling dispatch from Lakewood, Ohio!

Is my boss trying to tell me something?

2008-01-15T15:32:00.000-06:00

On Friday my boss said that I wasn't anal retentive. I don't think he meant this as put down, just an observation. Of course, I totally took that to mean he wanted to me to be more detail oriented. Fine, I can do that.

Then today he gets a pamphlet from SkillPath, you know those people who do the "soft skills" seminars, titled "Dealing Effectively with Unacceptable Employee Behavior" and he says to me, "Someone gave this to me in regards to you." Sure he's laughing when he's saying it, but really, now I'm starting to get worried. I don't do that much blogging while I'm at work. Do I?

Seriously?

2008-01-10T11:18:00.000-06:00

In a Tribune article about the girl in Buffalo Grove who has filed suit challenging the Constitutionality of the Silent Reflection and Student Prayer Act, I read this: Despite a 1961 U.S. Supreme Court decision striking down a religious test for Maryland public officials, Arkansas, Tennessee and North Carolina bar atheists from holding public office, and Arkansas prohibits atheists from testifying in court.

I know I probably shouldn't be surprised, but I am. That sentence stopped me cold. I don't even know what to say. It's amazing to me that people can be so ignorant, that a country founded on the belief of religious freedom would do this. Apparently religious freedom means you must have a religion, we just don't care which one it is (unless it's something weird like Islam). I could go on, but I won't. I just wanted to share this so you could all share my pain too.

Things I Now Get

2008-01-08T14:21:00.000-06:00

Last night Mr. H. and I watched Aliens (well, we watched some of it until I started to fall asleep because I prefer to be watching TV while getting drowsy - and then once my eyelids are a droopin', Mr. H. turns off the TV cause he can't fall asleep with it on. Ah, such are the compromises of married life). Anyway, during the half hour we watched two phrases were uttered that I have often wondered the meaning of - "five by five" and "assholes and elbows."

Now if you're a Buffy fan, this whole "five by five" thing will have bothered you for a while. You kinda gather from the show that it means something like OK but the way Faith uses it, you're never really sure. Well, according to Wikipedia, it means that things are clear, understood or going the way planned. They reference the scene in Aliens that we were watching, so it's good to know I'm not the only one that this causes some trouble to.

Now the "assholes and elbows" phrase I kinda figured out too, gathering that it meant something like "get to work." Unfortunately no Wikipedia entry on this one. A general Google search turned up several links that say it means to go quickly or do something quickly. Possibly deriving from Vietnam era Marines meaning if someone is running away all you'll see is assholes and elbows. For some reason, as I was drifting off to sleep, I thought that if someone was scrubbing the floor, all you'd see were assholes and elbows. No wonder I have weird dreams.

Now you'll be prepared for your next vocabulary quiz.

Rare Saturday Sighting

2008-01-05T11:55:00.000-06:00

I know, I usually don't post on Saturday. But keeping with my resolutions, I was just updating my checkbook, making sure that AT&T gets the money they so desperately need, and I figured I'd check in. Mr. H. and I have so far (a) had coffee (b) played The Godfather on the Wii (well he played, I just commented on how un-nice it was that he was extorting money from people he doesn't know. However, it was fun to watch him make his character cause you can do this whole face thing that lets you change the way your character looks, so his guy pretty much looks like an Italian version of him, which got me to wondering if this is what the FBI uses now instead of artists because it's so much easier, that's bad for the artists I guess. What do you do when you're a profile artist who's replaced by a computer program?) (c) shaved (again, that was Mr. H.) (d) put in a Peapod order for tomorrow and (e) discussed what we are going to do for the rest of the day. So far we've decided to (a) go to Best Buy so we can decide what to spend our gift card from my dad on (thanks Dad - your official Thank You Note is in the mail) (b) drop off some old clothes at the Salvation Army (c) go to Target for some new clothes. That's it. That's our Saturday in a nut shell. We may go out tonight with the sis and her husband, but that hasn't been decided on yet. This is why I don't normally blog on Saturday. See you tomorrow.

Resolutions

2008-01-04T16:54:00.000-06:00

I've got a lot for this year, so I'll just launch into them:

Stop paying attention to celebrities (already broken this one cause I just couldn't turn my eyes away from the latest Britney fiasco)
Pay bills and balance checkbook promptly to avoid two-hour long fortnightly drudgery
Continue on good exercise and eating program that I began last year
Don't spend money on things I don't need (this includes coffee, meals out and shoes)
Hang out with friends willing to treat for coffee, meals and shoes
Watch less TV, play more video games

Feel free to let me know any of your resolutions.

Looking for a distraction

2008-01-03T14:39:00.000-06:00

I'm looking for something that will get me though the rest of the day. i want to be able to just go home and curl up on the couch and watch tv or read a book, maybe knit. No, knitting takes to much brain power. i think my brain is fried after this merger and the holidays and such. Getting back into a routine is difficult when you have major holidays in the middle of the week. I just want it to be Friday. But it's not Friday. It's 2:42 on Thursday afternoon. I have, in addition to fielding annoying phone calls from people at work who want me to send them the logo or the word template or something they could easily find on our Intranet if they just took a moment and LOOKED for it, I have read the newspaper, looked at blogs and looked at the entries for Abbie Hoffman and D.B. Cooper on Wikipedia. It has been a less than productive day, though I can say I have accomplished a few things. I have, however, not figured out how to make time go faster when I want it to or slow it down when I need to. If someone could work on those things for me, I'd be very grateful.

Gingerbread cookies

2007-12-28T16:39:00.000-06:00

It's the end of the day on Friday after a crazy holiday week. Not only has it been Christmas, were Mr. H. and I scored big with a Wii and an Xbox, but the company I work for is going through a merger and Day 1 is January 2. So no rest for the weary in my office - well at least not for my boss. I have been getting plenty of rest. But I'm now starting to feel the strain. All these things that aren't done. Of course, transitions and change is never smooth, so I'm not expecting anything great. What makes matters worse is the gifts we were supposed to give each of our employees in our office are held up in customs. Seems they are unsure what the country of origin the hats are so we can't have them yet. I mean really. They're made in China. Where else would they be made? If customs worked this well all the time we wouldn't have tainted toothpaste. But no, it's holding up our hats and mugs. But no matter. Nothing we can do now. We'll just give the gifts out another day. In the meantime, I'm having another gingerbread cooking and going home to play my Wii.

Happy weekend.

Fact or Fiction

2007-12-27T16:15:00.000-06:00

The other day I was in Urban Outfitters doing some last minute Christmas shopping (I didn't buy anything there, just kinda looking around) and I happened upon some books. First, it's kinda weird that UO has books, like real books, not just funny coffee table books. They have a lot of Chuck Klosterman (who I've mentioned here before) and they had some funny sex books (which I didn't look at at all, Dad). But they also had this book called "Go Ask Alice." You've probably heard of it. It's written by that prolific writer Anonymous, about a teenage girl in the 60's who "accidentally" takes LSD and then gets hooked on drugs, runs away, has lots of casual sex, gets raped, goes back home, tries to kick the habit, gets tricked into doing drugs again, ends up in the psych ward and finally gets off the drugs and back home before she mysteriously dies at 17 (accidental overdose, suicide, we'll never know).

Anywhoo, I read this book back in jr. high (though, having gone to 6-8th grade in Chicago, didn't actually go to Jr. High, but whatever). I remember being fascinated with this true story. It's so interesting to see into someone's inner thoughts. Unfortunately, as I was flipping through it, I realized that there was no way this book was written by an actual teenager. The voice just didn't sound true. So this morning I looked it up (I love the Internet) and sure enough, while it's never been 100 percent confirmed, the story is made up. The psychologist/"editor" of the book, Beatrice Sparks may have used patient stories to weave this cautionary tale, but the more you learn about her (she's a Mormon) and the other books she's written (fascinating tales and pseudo journals such as "Jay's Journal," "It Happened to Nancy," and "Annie's Baby: The diary of Anonymous, a Pregnant Teenager," you start to see a trend.

So now I'm starting to feel jipped, in the same way Oprah and the rest of the reading public felt jipped by "A Million Little Pieces" and James Frey. We like to peep into people's hidden lives, but we don't like to be lied to. Of course, it doesn't help that Beatrice also seems to have a bit of an agenda. The article on Snopes outlines all the ways the book not only makes it clear that drugs are bad, but that any part of the 60's counter culture and broken homes spells doom for teenagers.

Regardless of her agenda, I do find it interesting why we like to know private stuff about each other. Is this a cultural thing? Mr. H. generally ignores gossip and tabloids. Maybe it's because he's English. Of course, some of the best tabloids are from England, so that can't be it. Maybe it's just human nature. We want to know what makes other people tick so we can figure out what makes us tick. When I read memoirs, I know that my life isn't that bad or that crazy or that I'm at least normal (whatever that means).

Barely Knitting

2007-12-21T16:26:00.000-06:00

Before

After

I know, aren't they cute. I knit these bears for my nephews (Jack, George and Alexander - I realize that's three nephews and only two bears. One bear had just finished washing his fur and was in the middle of blowing it dry and so was not available for this picture). For my niece, Eva Kay, I'm kitting a rabbit. The brown bear is going to Jack, who lives in Cleveland. Notice he is Cleveland Browns colors. Mr. H. wrote this to go along with the bear:

Dear Jack,
Once upon a time, after the Brown's utter decimation of The Cincinnati Bengals on September 16, 2007, when Derek Anderson threw for 328 yards and 5 touchdowns and Jamal Lewis ran for a staggering 216 yards and one TD, this bear was discovered inside the winning game ball. Fearing the wrath of NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, as well of the possibility of incurring hefty fines from the league itself, Romeo Crennel hid the bear in an earthen basket and set it adrift on the Cuyahoga river. Several weeks later it washed ashore in Chicago, having somehow managed to switch waterways entirely, and was found by [Melly] one Sunday afternoon directly following the Browns thoroughly convincing 8 to 0 victory over the Buffalo Bills. Fearful of vengeful and jealous acts of cruelty by a city whose football team has abandoned them to defeat and despair, she thought it best to send the young bear to a safe and loving home, far, far away. Of course, she immediately thought of you. So please take care of this bear, Jack. He has been through so much already. Give him a name. Teach him to maul. Love him dearly.
Happy Christmas, and GO BROWNS!

Isn't that cute? So like everyone else who tries to leave Cleveland, little brown bear is just going back. He begged me to stay, but I could not let him. I know that Jack will give him a good home. Better than I could. Any little bears in my household must do the dishes. I suspect Jack will mostly have him storming castles, eating lions and tackling footballs.

The other two bears are Chicago Bears colors. The bunny will be white with blue and orange ears. As you can see, I was very taken by the football spirit this Christmas (the football spirit is the lesser known spirit of Christmas that comes and shows you games your favorite team would have won had you been a better person and cared more about your employees and neighbors. Most CEO's don't really care about this spirit that much because they just bet against their team when they're loosing, still finding a way to make money off of someone else's misfortune, so it usually gets cuts from those popular stories and movies about the Christmas spirits.)

Those are all the gifts I knit this year. I tried to knit Mr. H. an XBox 360, but the pattern for knitting a circuit board is a little beyond my skills, and I couldn't find a yarn I liked. Maybe next year.

Hanging with the fam

2007-12-17T11:12:00.000-06:00

On Friday, the family and I started our festive holiday season by going to the annual "Welcome Yule" holiday concert. My sister started this tradition several years ago with her husband, and then, when they got tired of each other, started inviting the moms, sisters and brother. Then Mr. H. got roped into it a couple of years ago. And this year, my nephew, who is finally five, and therefor able to sit still for more than six minutes got to attend.

His assessment of the evening was "I think I stayed up to late" but he decided he'd sleep in the next day so no worries. He seemed to enjoy Santa and the Chicago police officer who was ticketing Santa and his sleigh for violating various city codes such as parking on a snow route, farm animals in city limits and causing a public disturbance. Mr. H. and my brother especially liked the wandering carolers and felt that wearing a cape was the way to go. However, they didn't buy Rudolf and couldn't see his motivation.

For my part, I thought last year's performance was better, but this may be because, unlike previous years, we were on the floor (third row) instead of the balcony. It was neat being able to see the dancers up close, but you don't get a really good view of the orchestra when you're on the floor. One of my favorite parts is watching the percussionists race around during Sleigh Ride, which has lots of sound effects - I love it when they make the sound of the snapping whip.

The best part, or one of the supposed best parts, is that they audience gets to sing along to certain carols. Mr. H. doesn't normally sing, however, this year he decided not only sing but do so in his best baritone voice (I think he was trying to impress the cape wearing caroler) much to the amusement of my sister and me (and I'm sure the people behind us). And while I have a lovely singing voice, I was a little shy this year being so close to the other carolers. Next year we'll be back in the balcony and I won't be afraid to belt it out!

Happy Blogoversary To Me!

2007-12-12T10:31:00.000-06:00

That's right, today is the first anniversary of my blog. I'd like to thank all my faithful readers which I think has grown to an amazing six or seven. Dee and Sarah, you've been such constant faithfuls, if it wasn't for you, I'm sure I wouldn't have continued. Jackie, Dad, Jennifer, I know you like to check in from time to time, and again, it keeps me going. Mr. H. - even though we sometimes don't see eye-to-eye (mostly because you're taller than me) on the topics of my blog, or my blogging regularity, you are my source of inspiration and my blogging muse.

Thank you all, and here's to a new year of blogging and blogging.

Melly

Hatton V Mayweather

2007-12-08T22:42:00.000-06:00

What's that you say? You're watching boxing. But Melly, you don't like boxing. That's true. I don't. However, if you want to have fun on a Saturday night, what's better than watching two 150 pound guys beat the shit out of each other. What's even better is that tonight I'm doing my first attempt at live blogging. That's right, I'm watching the match right now (well, it hasn't started yet), and I'm going to give a play-by-play of this wonderful sport.

First off, the event is sponsored by Rockstar Energy Drink which you can enjoy here and in the UK (in case you didn't know Hatton is from Manchester). Mr. H. is pulling for his copatriot. But then again, the Leedsians and the Manchesterites don't really get along, so I'm not sure why he'd be rooting for him. There are a lot of English people in Vegas. So many that they drowned out the singing of our national anthem - which was kinda rude. But then again, they had to listen to Tom Jones sing God Save the Queen, so I don't really blame them.

OK, we're getting ready to RRRRRRUMBLE. OK, now we're rumbling. The English, like they do at all sporting events, are singing. I don't know how they keep them from singing at Wimbledon.

Mayweather's wearing some nice velour shorts and shoes with fringe. Hatton's got some weird sparkley shorts with the Union Jack on the butt. Very attractive. Now apparently, according to Mr. H. and Don, Mayweather is really fast. They all look fast to me. OK, end of 1st round. Hatton's kinda red, but then again he's English, he has no melanin.

Second round. Watching real boxing isn't like watching Rocky. They keep hugging each other and putting their heads in to wards their chests. The ref, who has a weird over bite, just called time to remind the boxers how to hit each other. Oops, looks like Hatton got hit kinda hard there. Now Hatton landed a nice hit, and I can't understand a damned word this ref is saying. Oh, I get it. The ref has a mouthguard in. I guess that makes sense. Apparently Mayweather is holding Hatton and he's going to get points taken away from him. End of second round.

Third round. They're doing a lot of the dancing around again...oooh now they're doing some girly type fighting. Hatton's getting the better of Mayweather, but then again, what do I know. Don and Mr. H. are saying Mayweather is waiting until longer in the fight. Some lady in the fourth row is going crazy and now Hatton has a cut above his eye. End of round three. Apparently Hatton has some ex-London cab driver who is the only person who can stop his cuts from bleeding.

Round four - they're throwing punches left and right and one of the commentators is talking all over it. Who are these people who come to these fights? We got to see the parade of stars before the fight started, the Jolie/Pitts, Tiger, Jude, Becks, Slater. Mayweather just landed a couple of good punches but the white guy isn't giving up and now Hatton's eye is bleeding again, about time to call in the London cab driver and one of the commentators just said "this is definitely not Dancing with the Stars" in case you were wondering. End of round.

OK, now looking at these replays is just painful.

Round 5. These guys are just ripped. It's crazy. They need to eat some more. Hatton's got Mayweather in the corner, but I'm not sure it's doing him any good. There's so much hugging in this sport, if it weren't for all the hitting, you'd think these guys really like each other. OK, apparently that was a Ricky Hatton round. I guess he landed some good punches. And now we're looking at pictures of Hatton's parents. His mother doesn't look too happy - but she's wearing some nice bling, so she can't be too unhappy with her son's career choice.

Round 6 - and Hatton got Mayweather on the outside of the ropes and gets a point taken away for hitting Mayweather on the back of the head. So now, as with all angry Englishmen, he's going after his opponent with fury. Hatton likes to keep Mayweather on the ropes, and Mayweather just keeps letting him push him against the ropes. End of round.

Round 7 - just another reminder that this is fight (and my blog) is being brought to you by Rockstar Energy Drink. Right now they have Hatton up by one point. For some idiotic reason they are talking about what the cut guys in the UK use on their guys versus what the US cut guys use. Whatever. Like there's a fight going on, why are we talking about cuts? See, it's a boring, stupid sport...we're back to the cut solution now. Oh, now one of the other commentators is talking about the "cut tutorial" and let's get back to the action. End of round.

Round 8 - Hatton seems to do a lot of chasing Mayweather around - which leads me to believe that maybe Mr. H. and Don are right and Mayweather is waiting until the end to really put Hatton away. Mayweather is landing some good punches now and if these keeps up there's going to be a bunch of disappointed Limey's. Oh, now the American's are getting back at the Brits booing over the national anthem with chants of USA. And now Hatton is getting the shit beat out of him and it really might be over this round. There's 16 seconds left and Hatton's coming back, a little. End of round. The replays for that are going to be good.

Round 9 - In between the round, the ref is over at Hatton's corner making sure he's OK. His trainer seems to think so, but I'm not so sure. Mayweather seems to be landing some good punches and he doesn't seem to be hurting at all. Of course, that hasn't stopped the singing from the English. In the meantime, I think Mayweather is dancing to the music they're providing, because he doesn't seem tired at all. I have no idea what they're singing, but it's to the tune of "Winter Wonderland." End of round.

Hatton's not looking good, and his mother doesn't look happy, but she's got some nice cleavage (it's not my fault - the camera angle is right down her dress). Round 10 - Only three rounds left. Mayweather's pulled ahead a couple of points. Hatton's down. He got hit with a left hook and propelled himself right into the corner post. Oh, it's not looking good. He's down and he just got knocked out.

Well, props to the English fans, they're still singing. Now the fighters are kissing and making up, and all's well that end's well.

Maybe not the best play-by-play ever, but you can't say I didn't try.

Black Sheep and other Zombies

2007-12-06T10:29:00.000-06:00

Last night Mr. H. and I watched Black Sheep a lovely little film about a New Zealand farm boy who returns to the farm 15 years after his father dies to deal with his fear of sheep and collect his half of the money his brother is making by selling the farm to bioengineers.

Have I mentioned Mr. H.'s love of all things zombie? I'm not sure what the deal is, some traumatic childhood experience possibly, that has led to this obsession. Maybe it's because he hails from a country that eats things like black pudding and haggis. Who knows. Anyway, he loves himself some zombie movies. Of course he's a fan of the father of all zombie movies, Night of the Living Dead, and all of the Living Dead series - but hey, who isn't? But he literally eats up any movie with a zombie in it - Pet Sematary, 28 Days Later, Shaun of the Dead, Resident Evil, Slither. These are all pretty main stream variations on a theme zombie movies. Something happens, either man induced or extra terrestrial and people start to rise from the dead and start eating people. Not the best after dinner movie, but whatever.

Lately, however, he's been branching out into other zombie themes. Most notably animals as zombies. The sheep in Black Sheep become zombies because humans can not just leave well enough alone and must play around with sheep DNA, even going so far as to cross our own with theirs. This leads to rabid zombie sheep who when they bite you (and they do bite) turn you into one of them, hooves and all. This makes Black Sheep more of a zombie/weresheep movie. Fun for the whole family. Another recent zombie flick I've been force.. er enjoyed is Fido. Zombies in this movie have been tamed and now do all the jobs that only illegal immigrants currently do - housekeepers and yard workers. A boy takes his zombie and turns him into a pet, Fido, and, well as with all zombie movies, it just doesn't turn out well.

Anyway, I can't blame the zombie movies all on Mr. H., I mean, I do encourage him. A few Christmases ago I bought him the complete Living Dead series (even the remake of Dawn of the Dead - which is a personal favorite). This year for his birthday, I bought him glow in the dark zombie figurines. I only really complain about his zombie obsession when I wake up and find him gnawing on my leg.

Good Night, and Good Luck

2007-12-04T16:22:00.000-06:00

Mr. H. and I watched Good Night, and Good Luck last night. I know what you're saying. Your saying "boy, you and Mr. H. sure do watch a lot of movies." It's true. We do. We have a Netflix account and HBO and other cable channels. I really like movies. I like writing about them (this one made me kinda sad but also glad that there are people in the world ready to stand up for the right thing). I probably do spend too much time in front of the television. I'll never watch all the movies I want to. I mean, right now, our Netflix cue has 165 movies on it. Even watching three movies a week, that's a year's worth of movie watching. And that doesn't count the hundreds of new movies that come out each year. Plus, we mainly watch American movies (though we do branch out into the foreign films from time to time). There are just so many movies out there, I could literally just watch them all the time. If someone paid me to watch movies all the time, I would. I'd even take a pay cut because I would save money by (a) not having to commute (b) not buying clothes cause I'd just wear my pj's (c) cancelling my Netflix and HBO or at least claiming them as tax write offs. However, my popcorn bill might go up.

I don't remember the first movie I watched. The first movie experience I do remember is seeing Star Wars at a drive in when I was five or six, which is probably one of the reasons I am such a movie fan. Can you imagine sitting in a car with a huge screen blasting the images of star ships at a six year old? I wish I can remember more about the experience, but all I remember is I was there and pretty much since that day forward I have loved movies. I like going to movies, but I also like just staying at home watching them. I like analyzing how this movie is similar to that writer's or director's other movies. I like picking apart the actors' performances. But most of all, I like just letting go of myself and watching someone else's life. This is probably why I am such a terrible (read do it all the time) eavesdropper. I like learning about other people's lives (even if those people are made up). That's why I'll watch the bad movies, the stupid movies, the sappy movies. They all allow me to get a glimpse of someone else's life.

Tonight Mr. H. and I aren't going to watch a movie but some episodes of Angel. This is another thing NetFlix is great for. Watching TV shows without the commercials. But don't worry. We have plans for Thursday night that do not involve a television set.

Live Free or Die Hard

2007-12-03T15:09:00.000-06:00

Last night Mr. H. and I watched Live Free or Die Hard. What can I say. John McClane is back and he still won't die. Mac is there, which leaves me wondering why PC isn't getting these kinds of movie deals. A lot of stuff blows up and there's a lot of swearing. It's a fun romp in classic Die Hard style and really makes you wonder what would happen if the computer hackers actually tried to take over the world. How would you read Melly's Musings? **shudder** let's not think about it.

Superbad

2007-12-01T14:06:00.000-06:00

Last night Mr. H and I went to see Superbad. I'm tempted to make a joke about the movie not being bad but good, but I'll spare you. I'll just get straight to the it was good part. First, we went to see it at the Brew and View at the Vic. If you've never been there to see a movie, you should totally go. It's lots of fun. It's always a good thing when you can drink and watch a movie at the same time. Plus it's only 5 bucks for a double (sometimes triple) feature. Anyway, I had heard that Superbad was pretty funny so I was expecting to be entertained. While it definitely took from lots of teenage comedies (American Pie jumps to mind), I still thought it was a fresh take on the teenage angst that the end of high school and beginning of adulthood brings on. The films protagonists, Seth and Evan, played by Jonah Hill and Michael Cera respectively (and cutely named after the movies writers) find themselves at the end of their high school career (though boy, they sure looked too young to be seniors in high school - which of course is a sign of aging on my part) being geeks, facing separation from each other and without girlfriends. With the intentions of supplying the liquor to a pregraduation party and getting a couple of possibly interested girls soused, the boys hope to move on with their lives (and have something else to ease the pain of their imminent separation from each other).

There were many knee slapping moments in this movie (and I actually slapped my knee at one point). When Seth and Evan realize that they truly love each other and that it's OK, when Evan's would-be girlfriend tries to seduce him but ends up throwing up on him (ah teenage love) and when Seth ends up dancing with an older (read my age) woman at a party who ends up staining his jeans with blood (I'll let you guess how) - all of those moments were great. But, as happens in so many of these movies, the real talent and hilarity come in the secondary friend character. In this case it's the friend with the fake ID, Fogell. Played wonderfully nerdy by Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Fogell changes his name to McLovin (one name) on his fake ID and well, pretty much from there the hilarity ensues. Fogell's genius nerd is on par with such nerd greats as Urkel and well, the entire cast of Revenge of the Nerds.

If you haven't seen Superbad, the DVD comes out on December 4. Get ready to curl up and relive your awkward phase.