Just in case you are having a hard time finding something to be happy about this holiday season, I thought I would share a message that Austin left on my voicemail this afternoon.
"I just finished my Christmas shopping. It was terrible. It took two hours. I bought everyone gifts. I'm kind of depressed because my bank account is now empty. I'm glad it doesn't have to happen for another year."
Clearly, Austin was already looking on the bright side, but his grandmother also pointed out that being able to complete all of your Christmas shopping in one two-hour trip was quite an accomplishment. Nanny then told Austin that since he was so quick, he could do her shopping next year, in addition his own. Maybe she will feel differently, though, after she sees what gifts the speedy shopper picked up today. Maybe she will feel the same. I for one am just keeping my fingers crossed that I will not be unwrapping any tents this year. But that is a whole different story/blog post.
Happy holidays. And to all the grinches out there, just remember, this doesn't have to happen for another year.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Word Gems
Well, after a magical NY Giants moment last Sunday, thanks to JPP, today was kind of a let down. Tonight, I was cleaning out my email inboxes (I have four emails—don't ask...) and text messages (my phone's inbox actually fills up—thank goodness they won't be making "dumb phones" much longer, right RKsoPitted?), feeling kind of bummed, and I found a few gems that made me smile.
A text from a boyfriend to his girlfriend: "We made so many bacon cheese fries last night haha. All the guys hooked up with chicks haha not me though."
A text from a friend, quoting another friend: "Do you think I actually wanted to punch him? I'm on a low-protein diet."
An email from an uncle: "I actually tried to comment on your blog, but it rejected my comment with some bogus error message. If I had a blog - I would have made a ranting, raving blog about how annoying your blog is..."
A text from a boyfriend to his girlfriend: "I know you well. You randomly pull out your phone every 3 hours and ask the bf what he's doing to keep hope in his mind. I'm not falling for it."
An email from a dad:
On plane and having glass of champagne before taking off.
Noticed it was flat and not very crisp.
Politely returned glass to steward. He brought me a new glass, which was much better.
Later I commented that the first not so good glass might have been due to soap residue on glass.
He fessed up that first bottle was an imitation sparkling white and for my second try he opened a real champagne.
Sometimes you can not fool good old dad!
Share your word gems here. Greg, I know you have an email chain that is ripe for the picking...
A text from a boyfriend to his girlfriend: "We made so many bacon cheese fries last night haha. All the guys hooked up with chicks haha not me though."
A text from a friend, quoting another friend: "Do you think I actually wanted to punch him? I'm on a low-protein diet."
An email from an uncle: "I actually tried to comment on your blog, but it rejected my comment with some bogus error message. If I had a blog - I would have made a ranting, raving blog about how annoying your blog is..."
A text from a boyfriend to his girlfriend: "I know you well. You randomly pull out your phone every 3 hours and ask the bf what he's doing to keep hope in his mind. I'm not falling for it."
An email from a dad:
On plane and having glass of champagne before taking off.
Noticed it was flat and not very crisp.
Politely returned glass to steward. He brought me a new glass, which was much better.
Later I commented that the first not so good glass might have been due to soap residue on glass.
He fessed up that first bottle was an imitation sparkling white and for my second try he opened a real champagne.
Sometimes you can not fool good old dad!
Share your word gems here. Greg, I know you have an email chain that is ripe for the picking...
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Something Special
Do you ever have those moments when you realize that you're seeing something really special or that you're a part of something truly special—something bigger and better than you could ever be on your own? Don't worry, I'm not going to get all woo woo on you. (I wouldn't want my uncle to make fun of me all week long. Good thing the technology wizard hasn't figured out how to comment on this blog website yet...)
But surely you know the feeling. It's the times when you feel as a New Yorker that you really are living in the best city in the world—when you're looking at thousands of tourists smiling, staring up at a lit up Rockefeller tree and for once you're not annoyed at all to be surrounded by thousands of tourists, maybe because the tree is that beautiful, or maybe just because you believe in that instant that the city is actually kind of magical during the holidays. Maybe it's when "Empire State of Mind" comes up when you're listening to your iPod on shuffle as you run through Central Park or along the East River esplanade on an uncharacteristically warm winter day.
When I went to Colgate in upstate New York, the moment was looking down at the campus from the top of the hill, near the library (but definitely not inside it), when I realized for the first time that year that summer had turned to autumn and the trees had changed to brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. A better moment was walking through the halls of an unimpressive (by almost all standards) athletic center, but feeling like I was walking to a place as familiar as a home could ever be—even if it was a smelly, cramped locker room, just big enough to be deemed a walk-in closet. Even better was riding around campus, windows down, girl power song up, feeling suddenly so strongly that I wouldn't change my friends in the car for anything, even if they couldn't have been more annoying the night before.
This weekend, after a pretty crummy week (aren't you glad I'm a weekend poster?), I had a few more of just this kind of "moment":
One came on Friday night, as I ate a three-course meal (after a cocktail hour) at the restaurant, One if by Land, Two if by Sea. It was a holiday party hosted by Austin's company, but as the speeches kept flowing from the owner of the company, the managers, and later, even from Austin, the unpaid intern, the fact that I wasn't actually an employee of the company kind of slipped my mind. Because with everybody laughing, celebrating each other's achievements (and anniversaries that hadn't yet occurred), and making fun of one another's outfits, it really did feel like the family that everyone said it was in their speeches. And yes, there was drinking and yes, the Kool-Aid did taste good. Unfortunately, though, my bank account reminded the next day that I work in book publishing and not for Austin's recruiting company. But, the moment was special while it lasted.
Another was when I took a taxi from the upper east side with a few friends and then we found out that the people who we wanted to meet up with were actually headed to midtown west, and then $15 later we were headed into Times Square traffic. Oh wait, there was no moment there.
Today, it was realizing that even if I don't believe in Santa anymore, I still think the Nutcracker is a beautiful ballet. It was being close enough to the orchestra to see the strings of the harps quivering and near enough to the stage to hear Clara's ballet shoes sliding across the wood floor.
And tonight, if the Giants pull off a win that few think likely, there could just be one more moment to round out the weekend. And even if don't believe in Santa, this might just make me some sort of believer again.
But surely you know the feeling. It's the times when you feel as a New Yorker that you really are living in the best city in the world—when you're looking at thousands of tourists smiling, staring up at a lit up Rockefeller tree and for once you're not annoyed at all to be surrounded by thousands of tourists, maybe because the tree is that beautiful, or maybe just because you believe in that instant that the city is actually kind of magical during the holidays. Maybe it's when "Empire State of Mind" comes up when you're listening to your iPod on shuffle as you run through Central Park or along the East River esplanade on an uncharacteristically warm winter day.
When I went to Colgate in upstate New York, the moment was looking down at the campus from the top of the hill, near the library (but definitely not inside it), when I realized for the first time that year that summer had turned to autumn and the trees had changed to brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. A better moment was walking through the halls of an unimpressive (by almost all standards) athletic center, but feeling like I was walking to a place as familiar as a home could ever be—even if it was a smelly, cramped locker room, just big enough to be deemed a walk-in closet. Even better was riding around campus, windows down, girl power song up, feeling suddenly so strongly that I wouldn't change my friends in the car for anything, even if they couldn't have been more annoying the night before.
This weekend, after a pretty crummy week (aren't you glad I'm a weekend poster?), I had a few more of just this kind of "moment":
One came on Friday night, as I ate a three-course meal (after a cocktail hour) at the restaurant, One if by Land, Two if by Sea. It was a holiday party hosted by Austin's company, but as the speeches kept flowing from the owner of the company, the managers, and later, even from Austin, the unpaid intern, the fact that I wasn't actually an employee of the company kind of slipped my mind. Because with everybody laughing, celebrating each other's achievements (and anniversaries that hadn't yet occurred), and making fun of one another's outfits, it really did feel like the family that everyone said it was in their speeches. And yes, there was drinking and yes, the Kool-Aid did taste good. Unfortunately, though, my bank account reminded the next day that I work in book publishing and not for Austin's recruiting company. But, the moment was special while it lasted.
Another was when I took a taxi from the upper east side with a few friends and then we found out that the people who we wanted to meet up with were actually headed to midtown west, and then $15 later we were headed into Times Square traffic. Oh wait, there was no moment there.
Today, it was realizing that even if I don't believe in Santa anymore, I still think the Nutcracker is a beautiful ballet. It was being close enough to the orchestra to see the strings of the harps quivering and near enough to the stage to hear Clara's ballet shoes sliding across the wood floor.
And tonight, if the Giants pull off a win that few think likely, there could just be one more moment to round out the weekend. And even if don't believe in Santa, this might just make me some sort of believer again.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Pet Peeves
Austin often asks me what my pet peeves are. You'd think he would know all the things that he does that annoy me by now, but hey, some things take longer to click than others. Anyway, I have two new things that annoy me to an irrational degree. And here they are:
One, when people wear headphones on the subway, but play their music loud enough for everyone around them to hear. And usually it's not even good music. And sometimes it's embarrassing. Celine Dione, on the way to work, really dude? Not that my iPod has good music on it—I haven't downloaded a cool song since the last time I was cool and let my infinitively cooler younger cousin drag me to the mosh pits at Warped Tour a few years ago. But, I don't offer my iPod up for party music, and I certainly don't play my iPod loud enough for the guy sitting next to me on the subway to hear. I'd be mortified (if "Mmmbop" came on). And that is sooo annoying. If I wanted to listen to your music, I'd ask to share your headphones.
Two, when people don't turn the resistance up on their spinning bikes as directed by the spinning instructor. I realize that the class is "what you make of it." I know that the bike resistance of the spandex-clad woman spinning next to me has no impact on "my ride." And yet, when I am spinning, i.e. barely moving the pedals, at a resistance level of 8 out of 10, and that spandex woman is cruising along so effortlessly, her pedals whipping around in rapid circles, her short ponytail just barely bouncing—I really am annoyed. Now, I'm not talking about the sixty-plus-year-old women who take the bikes in the back of the room and blatantly have no intention of following anything the spin instructor has to say for the 45-minute class. These are the women who regularly come to class 10 minutes late, pump their arms above their heads as the instructor is calling out "stay connected to your bike," and stay seated on their bikes while the rest of the class is jumping between positions. These women do not bother me in the slightest. If my grammy went to a spin class, she should be able to do whatever she wants to do. I am talking about the spandex-clad woman who seems to hear everything the instructor says with the exception of "turn your resistance up." Faker. Cheat. Do you think we don't see you over there, right next to the full-length side mirror?
One, when people wear headphones on the subway, but play their music loud enough for everyone around them to hear. And usually it's not even good music. And sometimes it's embarrassing. Celine Dione, on the way to work, really dude? Not that my iPod has good music on it—I haven't downloaded a cool song since the last time I was cool and let my infinitively cooler younger cousin drag me to the mosh pits at Warped Tour a few years ago. But, I don't offer my iPod up for party music, and I certainly don't play my iPod loud enough for the guy sitting next to me on the subway to hear. I'd be mortified (if "Mmmbop" came on). And that is sooo annoying. If I wanted to listen to your music, I'd ask to share your headphones.
Two, when people don't turn the resistance up on their spinning bikes as directed by the spinning instructor. I realize that the class is "what you make of it." I know that the bike resistance of the spandex-clad woman spinning next to me has no impact on "my ride." And yet, when I am spinning, i.e. barely moving the pedals, at a resistance level of 8 out of 10, and that spandex woman is cruising along so effortlessly, her pedals whipping around in rapid circles, her short ponytail just barely bouncing—I really am annoyed. Now, I'm not talking about the sixty-plus-year-old women who take the bikes in the back of the room and blatantly have no intention of following anything the spin instructor has to say for the 45-minute class. These are the women who regularly come to class 10 minutes late, pump their arms above their heads as the instructor is calling out "stay connected to your bike," and stay seated on their bikes while the rest of the class is jumping between positions. These women do not bother me in the slightest. If my grammy went to a spin class, she should be able to do whatever she wants to do. I am talking about the spandex-clad woman who seems to hear everything the instructor says with the exception of "turn your resistance up." Faker. Cheat. Do you think we don't see you over there, right next to the full-length side mirror?
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