In serious need of Halloween candy...

And not the crappy, bottom of the pumpkin bucket kind. No Smarties. No Dum Dum lollipops. I want the good stuff. The fun size Nestle Crunch and Kit Kat Bars. And some Milky Ways too. Thanks.

This blog has no point. No message or story. No inspiration. It is your typical, so-don't-feel-like-working, Friday, the Phillies-better-step-it-up-and-start-hitting, (finally) cold day in October ramble. Completely random.

This week has been long and exhausting. Despite my attempts to get to bed by 9 pm (yes, I am offiicially elderly) on Monday and Tuesday nights to prepare my body for the World Series games, I still woke up (late) this morning and could barely sit up in bed. Friday took forever to get here. I am really sick of coding HTML - my eyes are shot by the end of the day.

Before I get even more whiny...

Super psyched for the Phillies. It is so fun to watch the games, the coverage, the fans. It's great for the city and a long time coming. I hope tomorrow's game doesn't get rained out and I hope that Moyer can keep the Rays from putting a lot of runs up.

I saw some crazy shit on SEPTA this week. I saw a short, scrawny, white-haired man punch a woman in the back yesterday morning. In the 15th street/City Hall EL station, a man came down from the escalator and threw all of his weight into a punch that hit the woman square in the back. She was just rushing to work in her sneakers, carrying her heels in her bag, like the rest of us. I don't think he had a reason and I doubt he needed one. She stopped, startled, just for a moment and kept walking - which, I realize, was probably smart. I am not sure what I'd do in that situation. Then, yesterday's journey home brought another odd circumstance. While on the trolley, pulling out of the berth at 69th street, I saw a relatively young guy with his pants around his ankles getting arrested while his blonde girlfriend was sobbing and pleading to the cops. I have no idea what any of it was about, but it was your typical train wreck. My fellow 101 trolley passengers and I couldn't look away.

I am anxiously awaiting the return of my sanity. My sanity, in the shape of a little silver slice of heaven - my car. The end is in sight and I think I am going to be getting it back within the next two weeks or so. It has been a long six months.

I think I need some new music in my life. I heard Kings of Leon on 9.33WMMR this morning and was pretty into "Sex on Fire". I also heard a new Brett Dennen song on Grey's last week and am pretty obsessed. "Ain't Gonna Lose You" - check it out.

My morning of procrastination has come to a screeching halt - duty calls.

I'm still waiting for my candy.

"Summer stole what fall replaces..."

Seven years after the day the world changed forever...

In remembering 9/11, I have very few words. Just songs, thoughts, pictures, ideas, memories and this tribute to a very good friend of mine's Uncle...

Bill

There are few memories stored in my head of my MomMom Jean that exist without Bill. He has been in the picture for as long as we can remember. Our grandfather he was not, but he was essentially her other half - for the better part of 22 years. Or maybe more. It is hard to say, as they've always been inextricably wound together for such a big chunk of all of our lives.

He was commonly mistaken for her husband, my grand pop, etc. - but he took the title in stride.

"Surrogate grandfather.", he'd politely correct, as he sat at the bar at Sam's Saloon, where I've worked for the better part of 10 years or so. It is MomMom's and Bill's 'Cheer's', complete with their designated bar stools and where everyone undoubtedly knows their names. She got me the job there, when I was about 15. I never really left, and neither have they.

Until now. Bill passed away on Monday, Aug 25th in his apartment in Mercy Court - another place they shared, although they lived in different units on opposite sides of the building. MomMom was downstairs in the parking lot, waiting for him at the car to go to the Giant.

It seemed as if she was always waiting for him. Bill moved a little slower than the rest of the world. He talked a bit slower - with deliberate caution - as if he was hand-picking his words and placing them delicately into sentences. Perhaps it was spending so much of his life wth my grand mother, the life of the party, perpetually on the move. Together, they created a balanced pair.

At Sam's, you can find Jean circling the bar all evening, chatting it up to anyone and everyone. Bill hung back, seated in his stool, observing. I always thought he'd rather be home watching the Phillies game. I think I was right.

Baseball was a topic that, if you got him started on it, he'd talk for hours. Bill was a pitcher in the minor league and almost made it to the pros. He'd met many a famous sports figure in his day. You could tell he loved it, his passion and fondness for the sport spilled over into every conversation.

Bill's family is saying goodbye to him, privately, today. I'd never met any of his family until Monday, when I was introduced to his two sons. It was strange to meet the immediate family of someone who has always been a part of ours. Hopefully, they know what he was to us and what role he played in each of our lives.

Bill was kind, even-tempered and patient; he loved his sports and his newspapers. He came to every family function and birthday and he was there when things weren't so easy. He was a part of us, and we'll miss him.

Phenomenal.

I rarely use that word.

But I find it keeps popping into my head as I think back to last night, the wedding, the reason we are all here. From the food to the views to the dancing...words really do not even begin to describe it.

But phenomenal almost fits. Jason and Mary's Califorinia happiness spilled over onto everyone. Ear to ear smiles and tears were the theme, truly.

Some pics before I head to San Diego with Dana. I have about 100 pics of just the wedding, glad I brought my charger and glad I can upload to make room on my memory card!

Joanne and I waiting for the shuttle. I actually just like this picture of myself. What can I say - I am more vain on vacation.

The view from the reception. Wow.

Oh, I love this pic. Jay and Greg after Greg's sincerely touching speech. Not a dry eye in the house, as even Greg himself really choked up. Beautiful.

Such a cute idea for the tables - they all represented significant places in Jay and Mary's lives. This was the guy's and Mere's table. I think Joanne took the card home.

Could they be any more adorable?

"writing you to catch you up on places I've been..."

Checking in from Laguna Beach, CA - also known as paradise on Earth.

I am sunburned and tired, in the best of ways.

My trip here went pretty flawlessly. I left Philly on a 7:30 am flight on Wednesday. Flew into LAX at about 10 am local time. My shuttle took me from LA to Laguna, and the last twenty minutes of the ride was along the coast - pretty amazing. The first of many amazing things, and more to come, as it's only Friday night. The guys are at the rehearsal and I am hanging in the room, listening to the waves and a party going on in the courtyard outside the huge, screenless windows.

When I was younger, I used to practically transcribe certain trips or parties - anytime I had so much fun I wanted to get it all down before it left my head. I have so many of these accounts in my journals from high school and college years. I guess this blog and my digital camera are the 2008 versions of those journals...

Laguna Beach itself, where I spent most of today. The waves are huge and the water temp. is just perfect.

My favorite spot in Laguna: this little park that overlooks the ocean.

The sun beginning to set...

Almost...

Putting the day away...

More to come, I hope, as we celebrate Jay and Mary's wedding tomorrow, and then I head out with Dana Mac to San Diego on Sunday to see the Phillies!

All I Want

Thanks Finn!

I want to:
live well.

I want to think:
less negatively and more positively.

I want to learn:
as much as humanly possible.

I want to see:
everything with clarity and perspective.

I want to try:
and be a better person, a little bit each day.

I want to tell:
the people I love all of the important stuff, before it's too late.

I want to touch:
the hearts of others with my words and actions.

I want to smell:
the ocean, everyday.

I want to feel:
like I am making a difference, in something.

I want to stop:
trying to change things that are out of my control.

I want to let go of:
the dark parts of the past.

It's all I can think about.

(Well, not all I can think about - but one of the many things...)

It is my vacation and I leave in just about 10 days. Ten, 10, TEN, TEN! The project I was completely immersed in last week is delivering today and that means no more 11 hour days and more space in my head to fill up with visions of Laguna Beach, California.

Next week, I am traveling cross country to see one of my oldest friends get married to one of the most down-to-Earth girls I've ever met in a beautiful location. Mary and Jason are a great couple and it is going to be an amazing time.

Isn't it weird when you wait for something so long, and then it is finally here. I find myself saying "I can't wait" way too much. As my MomMom so wisely advised me this weekend:

"Don't say 'I can't wait'. Say 'I can hardly wait.' Before you know it, it will be over - so you really can wait!" She is right. I guess I can let the anticipation build a bit more as I finalize plans...

I should get back to work. And by 'work', I mean...yeah, sure, I am working. But every hour or so I google "Laguna Beach" or I go to our hotel website and start to daydream...

I'll be doing this for the next TEN days...

"Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep."

Obsession is a close friend of mine. I obsess over everything. Money, work, my clothes, my weight, my choices, music, time, my relationships, food, the direction my life is moving in...

This blog is no exception.

It has been yet another month of no posts. I started July with a fresh notebook on my desk at work (that excites me, is that weird?) and the goal of writing one blog per day in July. I armed myself with a new Jodi Picoult book (Keeping Faith - phenomenal) for inspiration and even shared my goal with a few people, in an effort to try and stick to it.

18 steamy summer days have passed. And I've got nothing to show for it.

The reason is simple. It is the same reason that the 'backspace' key on my keyboard is more worn-in than all of the others. It is the same reason that I write an e-mail at work and leave the 'To' field blank until the seconds before I am ready to send. Finally, it is the same reason why I have about 24 blog posts that have been started, but sadly left out in the cold, forgotten, and labeled as 'draft'.

Time for a change. Time to stop obsessing, and just create. It is, after all, what fulfills me the most and completely absorbs me.

Please bear with me as I allow myself to make mistakes.

Just Wait

If ever you are feeling like you're tired
And all your uphill struggles leave you headed downhill
If you realize your wildest dreams can hurt you
And your appetite for pain has drinken its fill
I ask of you a very simple question
Did you think for one minute that you are alone?
And is your suffering a privilege you share only?
Or did you think that everybody else feels completely at home?

Just Wait
Just Wait
Just Wait
And It Will Come

If you think I've given up on you, you're crazy
And if you don't think I don't love you well then you're just wrong
In time you just might take to feeling better
Time is the beauty of the road being long
I know that now you feel no consolation
But maybe if I told you and informed you out loud
I say this without fear of hesitation
I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

Just Wait
Just Wait
Just Wait
And It Will Come

If anything I might've just said has helped you
If anything I might've said helped you just carry on
Your rise uphill may no longer seem a struggle
And your appetite for pain may all but be gone
I hope for you and cannot stop at hoping
Until that smile has once again returned to your face
There's no such thing as a failure who keeps trying
Coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace

Just Wait
Just Wait
Just Wait
And It Will Come

Exercisin - In more ways than one...

In another effort to try and get back to myself, I have started working out again. Working out physically - firstly, walking around the little courtyard out back of my apartment on these cool summer nights (while they last). And secondly, below, working out my mind, my fingers and my writing muscles by completing an exercise from an article that a friend sent to me.

The article, entitled "Everyone Has a Story To Tell" is filled with many assignments to help jump start ideas. My friend who sent it to me must have known I need some grounding inspiration, I am the definition of all over the place lately. Expect more of these, everyone needs a little help sometimes.

"Write two pages of instructions to the child you once were."

Believe me, it is not as bad as you think it is. Whatever you are stressing about, and you may not even use the word "stress" at such a young age but that's what it is, please try to let it go and enjoy yourself. That is all you have to do right now, enjoy yourself.

Do not be so self-conscious. Yes, you are pretty geeky, but you are also kind of cute. The length of your bangs or your skirt will not matter in the long run, although it feels so important at the moment.

Try to understand that fitting in with everyone else is boring. Try to let go of the idea that you have to be normal. You'll learn there is no such thing.

Speaking of learning, be forever knowledge-hungry and don''t ever stop asking questions.

Make an effort not to judge others so quickly. This is a tough one.

Savor, remember and reflect on (maybe even write about?) all the time with Mommy, Daddy and Jenna - every vacation, every weeknight watching TV, every dinner, every night you sleep on the floor of their room in the air conditioning...

Let's take it further with savor, remember and write down as much as you can stand to about Daddy. You are doing an OK job and your memory is pretty good, but you'll want much more. So much more. You'll want every detail, so spare nothing.

Take more pictures and get the film developed. Put the pictures in albums.

Be kind, be open-minded, and be honest. Think about each of these words and how they apply to your life at this time.

Do more self-reflection, as it will help you become self-aware.

Don't fist fight Jenna, it's kind of trashy. Don't pull her off your bed by her feet so she hits her head on the frame, hard. You will regret hurting her, even thought she doesn't hold back in hurting you. Another tough one, but it's something you'll need to learn how to do sooner rather than later.

Write more.

Try not to take advantage of the things you are given, which are many. You have privileges, gifts, opportunities, and the wherewithal to move through the next few years with grace.

Pay attention. To everything.

Break out of your shell a little bit.

Stay in touch with people who've left their mark on your heart - there will be quite a few.

Listen to more music, different from what is playing on Eagle 106.

Remember what I said about savoring the moments and that goes for all of your family members, but most specifically your immediate family. I really mean this.

Run Between the Raindrops

Today brought the first summer rainstorm, complete with humidity, wet shoes and steamed up sunglasses. (Why I wear sunglasses on rainy days is beyond me, it's just something I do.) It's positively yucky outside and one of those days when you'd rather be in bed taking a rain nap. It's a 'let's order in lunch today' to keep from venturing outside into the Center City mess where everyone hops over the puddles on the corners and have umbrella fights as they navigate the sidewalks.


Sometimes I really enjoy the rain. I like the smell of the air right before the sky opens up and it starts to pour. I like how quiet the streets are, only filled with the white noise of the storm. I used to sit out on our back porch during a thunderstorm and watch the sky light up. Most of all, I love the thick droplets of rain that sometimes come down and land hard on the ground, the cars, your forehead.


"Run between the rain drops!", my Dad used to say. He'd joke with us and recount stories of his younger years in which he'd go out in a storm and dodge the drops. I pictured running around, looping in and out of cars and trees. I've heard so many stories about my Dad's youth, from him and from others who knew him. I wish I could go back in time and hang out with my Mom and Dad, when they first met, dated, fell in love. I need a remote control for time.

There is so much I feel I missed out on, when it comes to my Dad and his life.

For now, I will continue to navigate the storm, running between the raindrops.

Level IV

As defense mechanisms go, I have just learned that there are four levels. The residual knowledge from any high school counseling I endured or Psych classes I took in college had left me with just a few of these mechanisms and no mention of levels. (Or maybe I just wasn't paying attention.) Upon considering the notion that I may be using a defense mechanism lately, or more than one, the words "repression", "displacement", and "projection" swum in my head. The definitions of each are garbled and overlap one another. I wanted to know which mechanism I was using and how. To Wikipedia I went, on yet another search to define my behavior.

According to a man named George Eman Vaillant, the four levels of defense mechanisms exist on a continuum and are defined as:

1. Level I - psychotic defenses (i.e. psychotic denial, delusional projection)
2. Level II - immature defenses (i.e. fantasy, projection, passive aggression, acting out)
3. Level III - neurotic defenses (i.e. intellectualization, dissociation, repression)
4. Level IV - mature defenses (i.e. humor, sublimation, suppression, altruism, anticipation)

In spending the weekend at my Mom's and helping her as she recovered from shoulder surgery, I thought I was enacting displacement. That's how it went in my head. "I am focusing all of my efforts on helping someone else, instead of concentrating on my own problems. This must be displacement."

As it turns out, I had the definition all wrong. It sounded right, anyway.

After my visit to Wiki and meeting George and his levels, I learn that I am actually practicing one of the mature mechanisms of altruism, defined as "constructive service to others that brings pleasure and personal satisfaction." It turns out to be healthy. It is not a form of procrastination, as I suspected. Who knew?

In an attempt to tackle sublimation (the transformation of negative emotions or instincts into positive actions, behavior or emotion), I am taking back my attitude. It got away from me for a while and will undoubtedly scamper away again. By focusing on things that I can control, taking better care of myself, and facing issues head-on (instead of hiding on my couch), I hope to move into an undefined level - not of defense mechanisms - but of myself.

Will I ever catch up?

It has been a month since I've checked in, as pointed out to me by an (or maybe the only) avid reader. One month, one birthday, one car accident, one tragedy in my extended family, one near nervous breakdown, one injury - no, make that two injuries, a handful of self-realizations, one wedding, one shower, a few too many drinks and way too many tears. And here I am.

I'd rather not recount the details of each generous helping of bad luck that has been served to me lately and how I attempted to handle it. That'd depress me and would not be conducive to my recent attempts to be positive. Never in my life have I ever had to try and be positive. It never required effort. I should, and do, consider myself lucky that a positive outlook (generally) came naturally for so many years.

Have you ever watched a parent and their child as they walk through sidewalk traffic/a train station/the mall, etc.? Picture a small child, maybe only three or four years old and his parent next to them, holding his hand as they essentially drag the child to keep up with the parent's pace. This is a generalization, I realize, but just go with it. The parent has a speed, a stride, a groove and the poor kid is doing the best he can with his little legs. With his arm outstretched and linked to the person he trusts most in the world, he cannot even finish one step before he has to start another.

This is how I feel right now. Beaten, bruised, broken? Not really. It has been undoubtedly a rough patch but there are far worse things to live through. A girl I work with, and really enjoy, has just unexpectedly lost her Dad just one week after her wedding. She and her husband wed in Vegas two weeks ago and a reception was planned for tomorrow. Today, she is burying her Dad instead of preparing for the party. Things could absolutely be worse.

I feel like the kid who cannot keep up. My legs are working as hard as they possibly can to find my place in the world and be good at being in that place. And just when I think I am stepping in line with everyone else, the world speeds up and I fall behind.

Fortunately, the place I am running to is bright and full of so many great things. And if I need the world to keep me at a good pace, then here I am, reaching out my hand and holding on tight.

Mr. Johnson

In his 52 years of life, I am sure my Dad had many friends. He was charming and social, had a good sense of humor and an infectious laugh. He worked as a bartender and a cook, and in those lines of work, you make tons of friends. Any friends he had, though, never came around. Unlike my Mom's friends, they didn't stop over the house, or visit often. Jenna and I didn't know any of them, really.

When Stevie (our neighbor and the husband of one of my Mom's best friends, Missy) and my Dad became friends, it was a relationship I found to be extremely healthy for my Dad. Stevie was always staunchly against drugs, having had his share of experience with them in his younger years, before kids, etc. They enjoyed watching any and all kinds of sports together. Stevie was also really active and played basketball, went running daily, and so on. I figured that any kind of impact that Stevie had on my Dad would have to be positive. So I really enjoyed them spending time together. Stevie got a kick out of my Dad and his antics.

Stevie recently recounted a memory of my Dad dancing to "Come on Ride The Train" one year at the BVM Octoberfest and essentially embarassing the hell out of Jenna as she rode the ferris wheel. He told Jenna and I the story as Jenna waited on us in Coco's, the pizza place where she is working now.

"Everytime the ride came down and Jenna's car was at the bottom, Den would start dancing and singing 'come on ride the train...'. It was hilarious." Stevie smiled at the vision he created for us and sang a line of the song to Jenna everytime she came over to refill our sodas. We laughed at Stevie and at my Dad. I can so vividly remember him loving that song and dancing to it.

At my Dad's viewing, perhaps the most touching, and sad, moment was when Stevie came up to the casket to pay his respects. He shuffled up to the area near my Dad's face and stared at him. With his eyes cast down towards the floor, he shook his head and whispered:

"I always loved watching the games with you, Den. We should still be watching the games now."

Witnessing this broke my heart into more pieces than it was already in that day as did seeing Stevie carrying my Dad's casket down the aisle of the church, serving as a pall bearer.

Stevie, or Mr. Johnson as my Mom calls him, probably doesn't know how much of an impact he had on my Dad's life. I should probably tell him someday...

The Exquisite Pain is...

...the tenderness in my upper thighs and all of the muscles one uses to sit and stand. You know, the kind of pain that produces audible whimpers when you try and lower yourself onto the toilet. It's good pain, though, because it is a direct result of the work out I did yesterday. I dusted off my old copy of Carmen Electra's Fit to Strip DVD and did a few of the exercises in my living room, after a nice 30 minute walk outside in the sun. This is the kind of pain that hurts on the surface but deep down feels really (REALLY) good.

"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey." - Kenji Miyazawa

Absolutely, Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. Ralph Waldo Emerson


-my credo for an insanely annoying Monday..

Crazy Eights - Why Not?

Eight Things I am Passionate About:
Music
Writing
My relationships
My work (most days)
My future
Working out (not exactly passionate, but newly excited and focused on it)
Traveling
Living well and fully

Eight Things I want to Do Before I Die:
Travel as many places as I can
Fall in love
Meet my children, and their children
Write a book
Become well-established in a career
Get in better shape
Take care of my family
See the Pacific Ocean

8 Things I say Often:
That's what she said...
oh hiiiii...
awwww
so cute
amazing...
I love this song.
I have no money.
I love you.

8 Books I've Read Recently:
Mercy
A Perfect Match
19 Minutes
90 Minutes in Heaven: A True Story of Death and Life
(this list needs to be longer...)

8 Songs I Could Listen to Over and Over (and over):
almost anything by John Mayer, Rod Stewart and Kenny Chesney
Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters - Elton John
Crazy Love - Van Morrison
Band on the Run - Wings
Keep It Loose, Keep It Tight - Amos Lee
Turn off My Heart - Rich Price
I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues - Elton John
Better Man - James Morrison

8 Things That Attract Me To My Best Friends:
honesty
self-awareness
open-mindedness
loyalty
respect
sense of humor
strong sense of self (goes along with self-awareness, I guess)
love of life

Womanly and Inviting

The first time Jackie ever referred to my body as "womanly and inviting", I most likely spit out my drink. We probably both cracked up for a good 5 minutes and struggled to regain our breath. Although I know she was most likely serious and trying to deliver a compliment, we've both gone back to this phrase constantly, and it gets funnier every time.

In my 3rd, I think, week of going to the gym - faithfully (even weekends!) - I am finally starting to notice a bit of improvement. It has been undoubtedly slow, and I realize how much further I have to go. I am finding myself enjoying it, though. I actually want to go to the gym and I feel lazy if I don't. Never in my life did I think that I'd be an exercise advocate, but here I am.

Jack always told me it would get easier. She told me I would feel better, she told me I would get really into it and I might become a little addicted. She told me it would help with my arthritis.

Who knew? Maybe the next time Jackie tells me that my body is womanly and inviting, I will actually believe her...

I used to be allergic to candy, or so I thought.

Up until I was at least 5 or 6 (or the age where things start to make sense, you start processing thoughts and memories start leaving their marks), I believed I was allergic to candy. In a genious move by Peg, I was never allowed to eat it - for fear of some disasterous allergic reaction. I distinctly remember looking longingly at a pack of Rolos in our freezer and really wanting them. I wondered what would actually happen if I decided to try 1, just 1. The Rolos remained in the freezer for someone else to enjoy (Peg I'm sure).

It is not known how I actually learned that I was being duped. I am sure if I asked Peg there is a small chance she'd remember. It doesn't quite matter, at this point, because I am 26 years old now, no longer living under the false pretense.

The ban on candy in the early years of my life may have shaped my current eating habits. I almost never order dessert. I don't crave chocolate (granted, what I do crave is a cheeseburger). Sure, I'll always indulge in an ice cream cone on a summer night or a 3 pm trip downstairs to the Gateway News Stand in our building for some M&M's. I think, however, I can honestly say that I might be able to live without the sweet stuff. Cheesecake? No thanks. Cheese fries? Yes please.

So I guess I am grateful to Peg for withholding candy from me all those years, most likely keeping it for herself - as she is quite the sweet tooth. The woman used to crumble Oreos on top of her cereal and she chose doughnuts as her last meal - sweet tooth might be an understatement.

The Candy Allergy has prompted me to think about some other things habits that maybe I wish she had kept out of reach. I made a list, I ALWAYS make lists:

1.) Reality TV - I have developed such a love/hate relationship with reality TV shows. The ones I truly enjoy keep me captive in front of my TV for hours. America's Next Top Model is one hour a week where I can be completely vain. It feels good. The ones I do not like as much eventually convince me and before I know it, I am getting irrationally angry at the little, snooty brats who go through their parents money like water on My Super Sweet 16.

2.) Inadvertently touching my face - My skin isn't terrible, but I do have the occasional break out due to the magnetism between my hands and my face. I cannot help it, I do not even realize I am doing it.

3.) Tattoos - Can I start over? When it comes to body art, I probably could have made some better choices. I am working on it...

4.) ATM Card Usage - I've got 10 or so some-odd years of frivolous spending under my belt. I wish the ATM card was never invented, moreso I wish I wasn't allowed to use it. My Mom has tried, repeatedly, to help me with this. She literally took my card for about 2 weeks. It did work though (until I took it back) but I am trying to part with my little plastic friend once again.

I am sure I could think of more of these little vices. I'll have to start a new list.

Anyway, thanks Mom. xoxo

Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink...

It's February 14th and our little office is a buzz with Valentine's day. Bagels from the sales team and Hershey Kisses from the Building - of which I've eaten at least 17 pieces. Of course, the day would not be complete without the quintessential V-Day indication - flowers. Bouquets dot the desks of quite a few of the lucky ladies I work with.

In reality, I was a little bummed about not having any special someone with whom to share the holiday. Yes, I realize how pathetic that sounds. So I let myself have a little pity party, table for 1 please, for just a few moments this morning. I joked with Barbra about when our flowers were arriving. She smiled painfully and joked back to me, "That's alright, we'll just plant our own flowers Kristen", and she laughed to herself. She didn't realize how right she was.

I'll plant my own...