Archive | October, 2010

I need a drink

28 Oct

More like a signature cocktail I guess.  Here is something that probably won’t surprise you: I’m not really an umbrella in my drink kind of a girl.  Particularly if that drink is pink or has a fruit kabob in it.  I like the basics in life: wine (Pinot Grigio), beer (Bud Light), vodka (Ketel) and shots (Jameson).  These basics however are less than ideal poolside in the Dominican sun if you want to make it to and/or remember dinner.  I can only take so many pina coladas and strawberry margaritas though.  What’s a girl to do?  I mean, the resort is all-inclusive and we will be there for 6 days…

So what’s a good vacation cocktail?  I need some ideas!


My dinner came out of an envelope…and things went downhill from there

25 Oct

The post I had in the back of my mind all day today was something along the lines of “She’s officially back.  At least at work”.  For the first time in months, I feel like myself in at least one area of my life.  There’s way too much to do; I’m almost stressed; I can’t focus on anything other than how to get it all done.  At work.  And it feels fabulous.

For months I dragged myself to work day in and day out.  Well, most days anyway.  As much time as I spent with my friends this summer, there’s actually probably no one who saw firsthand what I went through as much as my bosses.  They saw the effort I tried to put in but wasn’t capable of most days.  They saw me try to distract myself but fail.  They were the ones I was mortified in front of when I just couldn’t make it through the day.  So in the last few weeks I wanted them to see that I was back.  Because I was.

Working just a little late tonight, I got home around 8:30 after a quick drink with a former colleague.  Scouring my cupboards for anything that would resemble dinner, my options were limited so I ended up boiling water and adding these noodles and orange powder that came out of an envelope.  In desperate need of grocery shopping, I found myself hoping that the orange powder would actually turn into the promised “cheese sauce”.  You know, the dinner choice of about any 6-year-old out there.  I actively chose not to look at the sodium content as I congratulated myself on not adding the suggested 2 tbsp of butter.  Hey, I go grocery shopping about as often as I do laundry- this is my own fault; I really can’t complain.

Then it happened.  The bowl I put my nutritious dinner in was too hot when I picked it up.  It burned the tips of my fingers and before I could put it back on the counter, it dropped.  The engagement gift cereal bowl off our Crate & Barrel registry crashed to the ground full of orange goo.  I swear it plunged to its kitchen floor demise in slow motion.  And yes, in my head I actually thought, “engagement gift” bowl when I should have been thinking about the fact that I was barefoot and there was glass everywhere.  I quickly cleaned up the mess before my roommate could come out of her bedroom to see what the commotion was.  Okay, maybe it was before she could see the tears in my eyes.

Then I let myself do the one thing I haven’t felt the need to do in weeks and weeks and weeks.  I threw myself across my bed and cried until I literally couldn’t cry anymore.

And then I started to type.  Because I knew this had been coming.

I knew I was one broken dish; one wrong song on iTunes; one something away from the waterworks.  What is that saying about spilt milk?  I don’t know where it came from but I felt it earlier today at work.  I was on the phone with my mom and I felt myself get choked up talking about the fact that my “vacation” was barely a week away.  September had crept up on me.  October had crept up on me.  And now November is less than a week away.  I pretended something caught my attention so I could get off the phone.  And then I made sure something caught my attention so that I could keep myself distracted.

Coincidentally someone asked me today how I feel about the thing that would have been just 12 days away now.  And how I feel about what is actually going to happen on that day.  My response?  I’m too busy to think about it.  The truth?  I’m keeping myself too busy to think about it.

So how do I feel about what will transpire in 12 days?  I don’t really want to think about it.  I almost want to pretend it won’t happen.  But we all know I can’t stop it.  I am embarrassed to admit it but I dread handing my passport over at the airport with my friends instead of my fiancé and I’m afraid that this “vacation” that really should have been my wedding might be too much to take.  What about checking into the resort with friends instead of my fiancé?  And my family won’t be there because this is obviously no longer a family affair.  I’m apprehensive about dinner Saturday night which is supposed to be representative of our group celebrating a day that clearly should not have been.  I’m anxious that in a weak moment I’ll be in the mindset of thinking I should be cutting my wedding cake or dancing until midnight instead.  But I’ll know that all this would have been with the wrong person.  But in that moment, I’m terrified it won’t matter.

I want to pretend that I won’t wake up on Saturday and wonder if he’s thinking about what this day would have been.  And at the same time, I know I’m over what he became so I don’t want to risk the idea that even for a second we’ll be thinking the same thing.  Because I don’t want that, or any other sort of connection to what that was.  Or maybe deep down, if I’m truly honest with myself, I’m hurt that he simply won’t think for a second about me or about this day.  Or (last “or”; I promise!) maybe I’m just downright bipolar about it at this point.  I don’t know anymore!

What I do know is that everyone has put so much effort into this weekend and I refuse to let my personal anxiety ruin it for my friends.  That would be selfish.  And I’ve learned something about selfish people in the last five months.  I never want to be like that.

In light of all this, I gave myself a break tonight.  I didn’t feel bad for getting upset.  I didn’t read too much into it.  I made myself understand that this doesn’t negate any of the progress, it doesn’t make me love him again, it doesn’t set me back.  It just makes me human.  It makes me feel for something.  Even if I don’t know exactly what that something is.  I think in the back of my head it is probably the sheer disappointment that things got this screwed up.  I’ve figured it out this far, right?  I’m sure I can figure out 12 more days.

“I’m going to email that to myself!”

23 Oct

There’s one sure fire way to confirm that my friends and I have had one (or more) too many drinks.  It is a guaranteed barometer for when we probably should have stopped the night before but didn’t.   It’s a somewhat frequent occurrence: I wake up the next morning to multiple email drafts on my blackberry with ideas for new blog posts.

Coming from a pretty witty group, I usually find myself laughing out loud at the emails drunk me sent sober me 8+ hours prior.  I also usually have to try to figure out where we were going with these ideas; and it usually includes a light bulb’ed “ahhh, we did talk about that!”

Here’s a sample of what I’ve woken up to recently:

  • “Once you go swim up bar you never go back.” Assume the conversation had something to do with our upcoming trip to the Dominican…
  • “I’m not a 12-year-old writing a book report!” Definitely refers to my “friend’s” encouragement to create “juicy” details for the blog when we’re out…
  • “I’m like Nancy Drew meets Harriet the Spy.” Keeping a friendly but safe distance from each other, I always spill details about my new roommate as I discover them…
  • “I hope it doesn’t smell like chicken wings and Jameson.  Of course, that’s better than latex and regret.” I do not even want to know where we were going with this one…

Keep the cocktails – and ideas – coming ladies!


22 Oct


After a bit of research I learned that in most cultures and religions throughout history, the eye figure has been considered a powerful talisman to defy evil forces.  It is intended to ward off and protect those it guards from the negative thoughts and malicious intentions of others.  It is believed that a jealous person can change your luck with one spiteful look or an ill meaning comment – hence why protection from the Eye is needed.

During a trip earlier this year to Israel, my would-have-been brother- and sister-in-law brought my fiancé and I back an Evil Eye medallion to watch over and protect us.  In the weeks following my broken engagement, I was sure this particular Eye must have been broken.

When it came time to move, I had no intention of taking anything from my fiancé’s side of the family.  Then during my last night in our apartment I found myself sitting in the living room with a bottle of wine trying to drown out my own thoughts and emotions by flipping between SportsCenter and a Law & Order marathon.  Our Evil Eye charm was still hanging on the wall and a few glasses of wine in, for whatever reason, I got up, took it off the hook and put it in the last open box.  In that moment I wanted to take it with me.

Ironically, what was once our Evil Eye now hangs in my bedroom; perhaps more ironic, it was actually the first thing I found a place for in my new apartment.  It took a little while to convince myself not to think about my old apartment and the life I shared there was my fiancé…but that’s not what I see when I look at it anymore.  Instead I like to think it did protect me.  From making an incredibly huge mistake.  The first time around, it didn’t protect over us because either what we had or what we became, heartbreakingly, must not have been worth protecting.  I am obviously hoping for a little better luck – and a lot more protection – this time around.


20 Oct

It’s no secret that my girlfriends and I love a good cocktail.  Okay, a lot of good cocktails.

Let’s face it though: margaritas are dangerous.  Thank you to my girlfriend (a frequent source!) for the entertainment below.  It’s great!  And a little bit true…

* Do you have feelings of inadequacy?
* Do you suffer from shyness?
* Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?
* Do you suffer exhaustion from the day to day grind?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Margaritas.

Margaritas are the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions. Margaritas can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you’re ready and willing to do just about anything. You will notice the benefits of Margaritas almost immediately and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live.

Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past and you will discover many talents you never knew you had. Stop hiding and start living, with Margaritas.

Margaritas may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or nursing should not use Margaritas. However, women who wouldn’t mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.

Side effects may include:
– Dizziness
– Nausea
– Vomiting
– Incarceration
– Erotic lustfulness
– Loss of motor control
– Loss of clothing
– Loss of money
– Loss of virginity
– Table dancing
– Headache
– Dehydration
– Dry mouth
– A desire to sing Karaoke


* The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you are whispering  when you are not.

* The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.

* The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to think you can sing.

* The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.


Lessons I learned at the pumpkin patch

18 Oct

I just had one of those much needed weekend breaks from the hectic New York lifestyle.  Since the majority of my friends are in the city themselves, it is a short list of friends and relatives that can provide this needed escape from city living for a quick weekend or overnight getaway.

As my Facebook status informed friends, I was “Off to play for the weekend.  No, literally.  Play.”  Off to play with my godson and his baby sister; and there is always a wine-induced play date as well with their mom, my closest friend from high school, and her husband “after hours” – aka 8:30 pm after the kiddies are settled in bed.

These weekends outside Baltimore always include a trip to our favorite playground, the mile-long path leading to it complicated this time around for Aunt Me with the new double stroller.  It must weigh half my body weight but determined to prove myself a good Aunt, I hauled ass with those kids in tow up and down multiple hills.  My friend and her husband watched – and laughed – from behind.  I was almost out of breath running around with my godson but, give me a break, he’s 3 and I was having a good time!  My friend’s husband may have commented once or twice that my butt barely fit through the playground’s tunnel leading to the slide, but in the end what matters is that it DID fit!  We only coaxed my godson off the play set with the promise of ice cream (Before dinner!  Does he have the coolest parents or what!?)

A first time treat, we also visited a local farm where we picked out pumpkins in the pumpkin patch, played in a teepee, picked apples in the orchard, ate kettle corn and drank lemonade, went on a hayride and watched my godson ride the ponies and play on a retried tractor.  You know, pretty typical of what I would have done if I had stayed in the city…

No matter where I am, part of me is always anxious about where my life is headed.  The pumpkin patch this weekend surprising provided a few insights:

  • I better get back to a regular schedule at the gym.  And stay there.  I am going to be a slightly older mother than I once assumed and running around after a toddler is truly exhausting.  I am going to be completely honest in that my arms are kind of sore today after carrying a sleeping baby around yesterday afternoon.  I better start training now.
  • Friends outside the city will keep you grounded and help you keep your sanity.  On the flipside of that, spending time with them will have you question said sanity for consciously deciding to live in a city like New York.  Coming from the city, you can’t help but wonder if you’re in the right environment when outside it you are chasing the kids around the grass-covered vs paved playground, taking in all the fresh air during a hayride at the local farm, gawking at Costco and BJ treasures (with room to store them!), drooling over the prices at the liquor store (technically a warehouse!!).  Most things just seem downright easier in the suburbs.
  • Even with that point made and said, I love my lifestyle in the city and may very well be content to have one child and stay here permanently.  I don’t want to hold my ex’s interest in Long Island and New Jersey against these suburban, tri-state areas however both options are becoming less and less attractive.  There is something oddly comforting about returning to the chaos of the city.
  • Apples picked fresh from an orchard are always going to taste better.  There is something to be said about produce and other fresh ingredients that do not have to be stored only to travel through a tunnel or over a bridge to find their way to your home.  Yes, I may have smuggled half a bundle of apples home in my overnight bag.  You can always find a piece of the ‘burbs in New York though; specifically at the city’s many farmers markets.  I’ll show you Gristedes with your $4.99/lb orange peppers!
  • Owning a car might truly be my worst nightmare.  I don’t like them.  I don’t like driving.  I like being chauffeured around or, better yet, the freedom of walking to wherever it is I’m headed.  I literally watched my friends in awe – jaw dropped – as they seamlessly sped their three row minivan into parking spots.
  • You are never too old for ice cream.  Even cotton candy flavored ice cream.  And there is something to be said about not feeling too old for life’s sweetest treats.
  • MegaBus is going to receive a very strongly worded message from me tomorrow.  There was no internet access the entire ride back to the city.  This is unacceptable.  Insight here?  I don’t deal with bullshit anymore.

Did you have sex last night?

16 Oct

Oh relax.

I’m referring to a post highlighting the Sex Lives of New Yorkers from last week’s Guest of a Guest New York.

To address the article title’s question, do my New York friends agree with these stats?  Good to know that you only have to know someone for a few hours, that cuddling is out and that public sex is in…?  Seriously, this is what I’m up against?  Just grrrreat.