You know it's time to go back to work when:

• Nothing in your laundry needs to be folded, ironed, or even hung up because it consists of sweats, workout wear, bike shorts, etc.  EVERYTHING in the laundry. 
• You know more intimate details about the mailman, next door neighbor, guard, and meat guy at Albertsons then you ever wanted to know. 
• Somedays you go a full 12 hours without adult conversation.
• Your dry cleaners quits sending you birthday cards.
• Neiman Marcus, Saks, and Nordstrom don't call anymore to tell of an upcoming sale.
• It actually hurts to wear any other shoe other than running shoes or Uggs.
• Your car doesn't automatically go to the mall.
• Your car is dirty (I used to get my car washed at the airport when I traveled).
• You haven't been to the Hampton Inn Manager's reception in 6 months.
• You don't know the menu at Applebee's anymore.
• You lose your Premier Executive status on the airline and have to board in Group 3 like all the other Plebians.
• You pack too much to go on a trip because you have lost your packing prowess.
• You haven't actually done anything to your hair other than put it in a ponytail in months.
• You're tired of being the house bitch.  Doing everything by yourself because your are not "working."
• You're really tired of cooking dinner every night and never going out (remind me of this later when I'm going out to eat for the 6th day in a row entertaining clients).
• Your bank account is so low, when you go to check your balance online, moths fly across your screen.

Hopefully, I will have something soon to share on the subject of my employment.  For now, I am going on a bike ride at 10:00 am on a Thursday BECAUSE I CAN.

Cooking Prowess

I was the last child.  The 5th girl.  My mother was 41 when she had me, and to say she was more than done having children would have been an understatement.  After all, she had been having them for over 20 years.  When my father died when I was 9, the woman saw that as a green light to slow down on cooking.  I don't blame her.  A couple of my sisters were really picky eaters.  You know, I find that behavior completely obnoxious.  The picky eater.  Just shut up and eat it.  I never can believe when random kids come over and I have cooked dinner and they say they don't like it.  Um, so?  Cereal box is over there, dude.  I don't make anything crazy weird when other kids are here.  Sometimes we are talking about scrambled eggs.  Of course they aren't delicious.  Shut up and just eat them. 

To say that I was fed well in my growing up years would be a stretch.  When it was just me and my mother, she hardly ever cooked but did know how to stock a pantry.  Everyone always wanted to come to my house late night because we had every snack cake known to man.  I lived on those snack cakes.  Twinkies, Little Debbie's, Cupcakes, Moon pies, Zingers, etc.  I also had a crapload of Rice-A-Roni and hot dogs.  Those were things I could cook.  Do you know I never ate broccoli or cauliflower until I moved out?  I guess after you've been trying to shove that down people's throats for 20 years, you just give up.  After all, surely there is some nutritional value in Twinkies.  The woman didn't have great eating habits herself.  For breakfast, she would have coffee.  For lunch, she would have a Coke, and it was when they were in those little bottles.  For dinner, she would just have a few bites of something because she always said she wasn't hungry after fixing the food.  It's no wonder she weighed 112 pounds her entire life until she quit smoking, then look out Mama, the woman got really fat.  I guess what I'm saying is that I didn't have much training in the kitchen.  So, where did I get my cooking chops?

When I moved out of the house, I was armed with my Betty Crocker cookbook and was ready to go.  I did ok.  No one starved.  Sometimes, we would even get a little creative, such as chicken roll up contests.  It was a different person's turn every week and we moved from house to house trying new chicken roll up recipes.  That consisted of pounding out chicken and coming up with interesting fillings and sauces.  Then, I met my friend Marsha who grew up in a huge family that did nothing but cook.  She first impressed me with ham gravy.  Who knew such a thing existed, and WHY HAVE I NOT HEARD OF THIS BEFORE?  Two of my favorite things, Ham and Gravy.  She also taught me a thing or two about Velveeta.  The kids' baby daddy's mom and aunt were pretty savvy in the kitchen and some of my favorite recipes come from them.  Oh, and Southern Living Magazine had something to do with my cooking.  I would try something new out of there every month.  I still try something new at least once a week from Bon Appetit, or Epicurious. 

Lori once gave me a shirt that said, "It's a Good Thing," because my friends called me Martha Stewart.  I used to throw a pretty lavish dinner parties.  My Easter gatherings are legendary.  I thought I was doing pretty well in the kitchen department.  Then, I met Robert, who was all too excited to tell me I was doing it all wrong.  I didn't have the proper tools.  So, he outfitted me with good German knives, All-Clad pots and pans, and all the necessary tools you never knew you needed.  You know, kitchen toys.  It actually did help.  I also found the Martha Stewart Channel on Sirius 112 and it has also changed my cooking life.  I made a pie this year.  With homemade crust.  It was awesome.  Thanks, Martha!

I guess I'm saying that I have had to learn cooking on my own, with lots of help from people along the way.  How did you learn to cook?  Was your Mom awesome in the kitchen and you made cookies on a chair next to her from the time you were 5?  Was it your Aunt?  Maybe a family friend.  Was it out of necessity so you didn't live on Rice-A-Roni and hot dogs? 

Deadly Sins at the Gym

I went to the gym this morning to take a spin class.  ALL I wanted was to go back to sleep.  I was having a rather odd dream about Brad Pitt.  Seems he wanted me to help him take care of all his children.  Doesn't that say so much about me?  Can't I just have a sex dream involving Brad Pitt without having to babysit?  Anyway, I dragged out to go kill my quads and pierce my eardrums with all the techno music.  When I leave there, I'm never sure if my ears are ringing because I need to eat something or if the music was just too loud.  OMG I hate getting old.  Since I'm training, I've been spending more time at the gym.  You won't believe what happens in these places. I have listed some of the more interesting things I've seen of late:

• I don't know if it is appropriate to wear your white sports bra in public.  I have no opinion, I just don't know.  What I do know is that it's not ok to wear a size 32B when clearly you are a 32DD during spin class.  This woman spent the whole class making sure her nips didn't spill out, but they did.  All during class.  Yes, we were ALL watching, which I assume was the point.
• It is NEVER ok to slough your feet with your pumice stone at the gym in the locker room.  Little bits of your nasty feet flying all over the room.  Ew.  I guess you could use the Pedi Egg so your chunks would be caught in the device, but I still don't think so.  Certain things should be done at home. 
• Picking at your scabs on your shoulders and back while you are on the treadmill, stair stepper, etc.  Ew.  I just stared at this woman the entire time.  Thankfully, I was far away.  Can you imagine the biohazard she was creating?  Ditto with the feet thing.
• Chatting with me while you are naked.  Yup, I don't know you and here you are striking up a conversation with me while you are buck naked.  Oh, and it's never the beautiful people who do this.  Note: When you are naked, jump up and down and if anything moves, it's not ok to chat up other people in that state.  I can hear you just as well with your back turned to me.
• Hogging the mirror.  You are beautiful.  You are looking tight.  Get over yourself and let me see if I'm lifting correctly.  Jeez.
• Eating in the sauna.  Yes, you heard me correctly.  I think it was a turkey wrap.  Oh, and someone else in the sauna was naked.  So, there I am with naked fat woman, and turkey wrap woman who has no problem slamming down her food while staring at naked fat woman and sweating.  I just threw up in my mouth thinking about it again.

I'm sure you have interesting experiences as well.  I would love to hear them.  For now, I will keep reporting the injustices of the world, one neighborhood gym at a time.

Super Bowl XLIII

I love the Super Bowl.  When I lived in Dallas, the Cowboys were in their glory years with the Troy Aikman era.  MMMMmmmmm, Troy Aikman.  So, it was always a festive time.  We got to buy a new TV for the playoffs and that was memorable.  I think 2 years in a row, I had to call in sick to work on the day after with what I termed, "Super Bowl Flu."  Have you had it?  It usually is gone by noon with the help of a greasy cheeseburger.  As much as I always enjoyed the festivities, it pales in comparison to Nick.  When he was 4, after the Super Bowl ended, he threw himself down on the floor in tears.  "What's wrong?" I asked.  "There is no more football for 8 months," he replied back through sobbing cries.  "Well, next week there is the Pro Bowl," I said. He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "That doesn't count because it's not a real game."  I knew right then it was going to take someone very special for him to spend the rest of his life with.  Someone who really enjoyed the game, and would think it was cute when he started quizzing them on how many times a particular team had been in the Super Bowl and their records for the past 10 years.  God speed, poor soul.  That unsuspecting person has no idea right now what they will be getting into.

Nick has logged 20 hours this week of pre-game TV.  He has the background story on every player, knows the line on the game, and has even talked to his Dad about placing a bet for him.  I realize I am in the gamblin biz, but have you ever tried to place a sports bet?  Next to speaking in front of large crowds, I find it the most intimidating thing I've ever done, so I've only done it once.  I couldn't tell you if I won or not because I didn't know what I was doing.  The betting is especially crazy in this game.  Here are some of the weird bets you can make (I have put in the latest line if you're interested):

• Coin Toss
• Total distance on the first punt of the game Over/Under 41.5 yards
• Total kickoff returns by both teams - Over/Under 9.5
• What color will (Cardinals owner) Bill Bidwell's bow tie be?
• Red -600
• Any other color +400
• Bidwell must be seen on camera wearing a bow tie during the game for this to be an official play
• How long will it take Jennifer Hudson to sing the National anthem? Over/Under 1:54
• Will a cheerleader's nipple fall out of her costume on national TV, creating a wardrobe malfunction? (ok, maybe I made that one up)

No, I'm not encouraging the boy to gamble, but if he can exercise his brilliant math mind on a few statistical options for me, I'm down with that.  Mama needs a new pair of shoes!

So, I asked Nick if he wanted to have people over, and he responded with a resounding NO.  Why you might ask?  He doesn't like people over because they distract him from watching the game. They always do that annoying thing called talking and he might miss something.  Oh, and he doesn't like to share his poppers.  He has requested that everyone get their own box so they don't have to share.  I usually give everyone 2 or 3, and because this is such a big game, that is totally not acceptable.  We are also having pulled pork sandwiches, pigs in blankets, spinach dip with pita chips, hummus, chicken kabobs (as seen on Biggest Loser this week), veggie tray (which Nick crossed off my menu list when I wasn't watching), and a cheese tray.  The princess has requested brie and smoked apple cheddar. 

If I were having people over, I would go to Home Depot and get some Astroturf to use as my tablecloth on the buffet table.  I might even put in the hash marks and paint the team names and logos in the end zones.  I would also pull out all Nick's football stuff to use for decoration.  Since it's just us and princess has announced she will not be watching the game because she can't follow it, I think I will just throw the food on the table.  Hope you get to have a party.  What are you making?

Facebook

My friend, Pam, was telling me how much she enjoyed Facebook and that I should join.  Whatever.  That is for the younger crowd, I thought.  I have my Linkedin account for professional networking, and have resisted any other Internet social networking. The only time I got on Facebook or My Space was if I was planning to hire someone and I would check them out and see if they were stupid enough to put a clip of themselves on Spring Break in a Girls Gone Wild video.

Pam kept encouraging me to go on her account and see photos of all the people she knew, both past and present.  Of course, it was the past we were having the most fun with.  Looking in on old high school, college, and post-college friends and checking out intimate details of their lives without actually needing to carry on a conversation.  This aint so bad, I said.  So, I set up my account and invited a few friends, caught up with a couple of people, rummaged through a few photos, and was soon pretty bored by the whole thing.  Fast forward to Saturday night a couple of weeks ago when I'm home alone cooking dinner and decide to grab a glass of wine and play around on Facebook.  I had so much fun.  I was able to search through high school classes, and found my old boyfriend's brother, who was charming and just as sweet as ever.  Again, we spent a few minutes writing back and forth and then that's it.  I would hope to keep in touch.  I would hope he will call when he comes to Vegas.  I would hope I will call the next time I'm in Chicago (which is always during the warmer months).  I think this is what Facebook represents.  It is social networking using today's technology which continues to encourage people to not really get together.

Just like texting.  I love texting because it is quick, down, and dirty.  You can tell someone something without the annoyance of having to have a long chat.  Can you imagine dating in the texting world?  I would have loved that!  Breaking up with people by text because you're too big of a weenie to talk to them in person.  I think most of my relationships wouldn't have lasted as long as they did.

So, on Facebook, there is no room for error and you should know all the ins and outs.  If you tell something personal, and really most of this stuff is, you risk looking like an idiot.  I really watch what I say, who I have as friends, and how much information I provide.  In other words, not a great idea for someone who's had too much wine.  You might invite people you really don't care about (did that), and now those people have access to your information.  People write on your wall, but I don't always want everyone to see my conversations.  I'm sure you can do this privately, but don't know how.  Once, Liz gave me a picture of the old Cat and the Fiddle, which was cool.  Then, you get something like this:

You have been Kidnap'd by Kelly to Mumbai with the Spicy Beef Burrito!

What???  I don't have any idea what this means.  I haven't been kidnapped.  I've never been to Mumbai.  I certainly don't eat Spicy Beef Burritos.  So, there is a lot of crazy stuff on Facebook that I don't understand.  Maybe it is for the young folk after all.

Other people's children

When I say that I don't like other people's children, I'm not kidding. Generally, I like mine and a few others, and that's it. But Sofia and Vanessa (Gravy) are awesome kids. Sofia is smart and intuitive, and I've never seen another human so focused while watching TV. She already has her selective hearing fine tuned. A bomb could explode right next to her, and as long as the TV was still operational, she wouldn't notice. She woke me up in the mornings with her sweet voice, and talk of her special powers. By the way, she will be getting another special power on her birthday. Stay tuned. Then there's little Baby Gravy. She is a super sleeper. When Krys picked me up, she was sleeping and proceeded to sleep for another 3 hours. I threatened to pinch her so I could play with her, but Krys said no. Stupid Krys.

Our friend from high school, Melissa Rebori, stopped by with her son, Blake. Stay longer next time, chica!

Gravy's first coo!

The Lazy Friend

Last week, I had a great lunch with my friend, Margo, whom I adore hanging around.  When we get together,we always have a great time talking about the kids, husbands, jobs (or lack thereof), plastic surgery wishes, and all necessary items.  We laugh and always talk about how nice it is to have a normal friend in this weird town. 

We never see each other. 

We probably get together 2-3 times a year.  When we meet in the middle, it takes each of us about 15 minutes to get there, so it's not inconvenient.  She works at home and I don't work, so we have the time.  We always have fun when we see each other.  So, what's the problem?  Why don't we talk or see each other more?  I like to blame it on The Lazy.  I am a very lazy friend.  I want friends.  I like friends.  I just don't put forth the effort to grow the friendship.  That being said, I have a circle of friends I've had since I was in middle school.  That's fairly amazing.  How many of you out there still talk to people you knew 25 years ago, especially when you were kids? 

Krys, who is one of my bestest friends, is the polar opposite of The Lazy Friend.  She always makes sure we keep in touch, sets up the Christmas reunions every year, and generously used her frequent flyer miles to fly me out to play with her over the weekend. (psst...I snuck Gravy home in my suitcase.  I hope she doesn't notice.  I plan to give her back when she starts talking.)  I had such a  great time.  We cooked, played with the kids, drank our share of red wine, built a fire, set up her iTouch, and just hung out. Our main accomplishment outside of the house one day was to go to Starbucks. I don't have friends anymore to hang out with.  You know, where you could just drop by their house with a 5 minute notice, and they don't care if the house is clean or not because they are just glad to see you?  The ones that don't mind when you wear the same sweatshirt for three days in a row?  Or that don't mind when you kid barfs on them?  I have a friend in Vegas that I talk to on the phone almost everyday, but hardly ever see.  My phone friend.  Krys has gym friends.  They talk everyday and she knows things about their lives, but not their names.  I have previous work friends, Facebook friends, industry friends, shopping friends, old friends, new friends, distant friends, bestest friends, and casual friends.  Do you know what kind of friend I would really like?  A private plane friend.  A really close friend who would loan out her private jet.  How about a Caribbean Villa friend? 

One night, Krys and I got out the old photos.  Another thing I love about her.  She has them organized, and in a box by date, etc.  Some are in photo albums, or they were until I ripped them out.    There I was, ripping photos out of her organized photo album, and she didn't care at all.  She said they needed to be posted, and she was right.  I hope I asked her before I did it because that's what a good friend would have done, but I probably didn't because I'm The Lazy Friend.

These are photos from a toga party in high school.  Anyone who can help me with the names will get a "I'm not a Lazy Friend" button.

 

Thanks, Krys, for keeping the photos and letting me rip them out so we can share.  I will be posting to Facebook soon.