planes, trains, and automobiles (au-to-mo-beeeel)?

this past year has been my great travel-cation - park city, cabo, napa, philly, madison, milwaukee, new york...i know, i know,  you are so jealous of all my exotic travels (especially wisconsin). i'm sure at this point my employer is wondering exactly how much vacation time i actually have (not to worry, mr. employer. you have kept me plenty busy. i'm working very hard, promise.)

all this travel has been a mix of planes and trains and yes the [dreaded] roadtrip. so here's a breakdown of the experience and some do's and don'ts as you embark on your holiday travel.

planes. i usually love planes just because it's the fastest way of getting anywhere. but there are drawbacks. many of them.

1. checking bags. i hate it. my clothes just mean too much to me to have them lost or stranded god knows where for hours, days, forever.  so the idea of checking my bags just feels like clothing neglect and abuse. 
2. miniature, elf-size toiletries. not checking bags = toy size toiletries. cute as they may be, it feels a little like i'm rationing out beauty. for the most part, i'd say i've mastered it. lots of samples and little travel jars filled my luscious creams and dreamy beauty products. but given the rationing that these little bottles require,  i probably walk around with a little too much mascara under my eyes than is appropriate.  maybe that's why i look so tired??
3. chatty folks.  on a recent trip, i had a early morning flight, which meant i woke up at an obscene hour...too early to even mention. all i wanted was to board the plane, snuggle up, and take the closest thing i could to a nap.  then SHE boarded. the 19 y.o. american university student (yes YOU) who thought that the entire aircraft wanted to hear her life story for 2 hours. from the second she boarded until the second we landed and i finally ran off the plane, she talked...and talked...and talked. i'm not sure she took a breath. i (we, the plane) had the pleasure of hearing all about her major, her hometown, her boyfriend, her theories on psychological disorders,  her knowledge and understanding of technology, her high school life, and her political and religious thoughts. basically, i could write this girl's biography. maybe my lack of patience is just a sign that i'm an old lady who feels the urge to sssshushhhh everyone. maybe when i was 19, i thought i've lived enough life and needed to share my enlightened existence.
4. security lines. no, i'm not going to complain about the new tsa policies because, personally, i'd like to feel safe when i board a plane. i just wish that people knew how to navigate a security line. get your laptop out.  take off your belt. your shoes go on the conveyer belt. and no, contrary to what you may have thought, you are not exempt from the 3:1:1 liquid rule so you'll have to leave your 20 oz bottle of lotion at home. seriously, how do you not know the rules?

trains. i've traveled by train a handful of times. mainly through europe (god, i sound so worldly, don't i?) but my last 2 trips to nyc have been by train. there are definitely pros to trains - no security lines, no elf-size toiletries required, and best of all THE QUIET CAR (not that i've ever been in the quiet car because it just sounds like it would be too much pressure to be quiet, but god bless them for having the idea).  i think for the most part, trains are a close second to planes and may actually take the lead of preferred means of travel (for short distances). but there are a couple drawbacks...

1.  the return trip. i don't know about you but i like to have an assigned gate, go sit down, and board my train in a nice, civilized, orderly fashion. i guess nyc hates this idea. it wants people to line up and stare at the big board, wait anxiously for the announcer, and remain in ready position until seconds before boarding begins to race/climb/push others to get to the train.
2. seat assignments. i like the idea that you can sit anywhere but i guess the danny tanner in me just wishes we had assigned seats. maybe that would make boarding more orderly and less of musical chairs affair. 

automobiles. au-to-mo-beeel? god, i loved 16 candles....and any opportunity to use that line from the movie. too bad i hate road trips. the idea of being in a car for more than 2 hours is excruciating. maybe it's the fact that my commute in rush hour can take up to an hour or more but being trapped in my car is not my idea of a good time. it's cramped. you have to go to some gross rest stop to use the bathroom, and if you are not the one driving, then you have to keep the driver awake with fun, amazing stories. i mean, who am i? some 19 y.o. american university student? 

so as you embark on your holiday travels, regardless of your means of transportation, remember a few rules of the skies/tracks/roads:

1. pack light and leave your adult size toiletries at home. otherwise, i'll probably be behind you in the security line rolling my eyes. and maybe this time, i'll actually work up the nerve to say something to your face. beware.
2. pack your headphones. chances are that some college kid is going to want to talk about how awesome their last frat party was so you better be prepared to ignore them.
3. wear comfortable shoes. remember, you'll need to place them on the conveyer belt in security and people are not going to want to wait for you to unbuckle, untie, unzip them. so be smart about it.  again, i might be in line behind you and there will be a serious absence of holiday cheer if you lack efficiency. also, you will need to be able to run to your gate at a moment's notice. practice sprinting with your suitcase.

happy travels :)

politics 101 according to me

(note: i debated even posting this today because i don't want to spark a debate of some sort. not interested. but then i realized, my readers don't debate. they don't comment. they are happy, silent readers. and by "readers", i mean those 2 random people that occasionally read this blog. thanks for not debating...ok, read on)

happy election day [cue the national anthem].

ok, now i should go on the record and say that i am so excited that this election nonsense will be over today. seriously, the last few weeks has been a nonstop bombardment of political ads -- e.g.,  connolly vs. fimian, o'malley vs. ehrlich, some random lady from the tea party with the horrible political ad (i will just say that the local tv station had to display a warning prior to broadcasting the ad each time. so yes, it was that horrible and offensive and inappropriate).

and no, it's not like these political ads mean much. i can barely remember who's running. so you think i even know where you stand on issues? nope. case in point, the other morning, i was complaining about the ads to my husband and said, "that george connolly looks like a weasel, i don't trust him." too bad, his name is not george connolly.
it's...

ummmm....


......jerry?

so even though these ads are on every 5 minutes, my brain has chosen to block them out. and in any case, all these ads that have basically hijacked my tv are not even relevant as none of those guys are in my district. can you believe that!? i've been tortured all these weeks for no good reason. i learned all this when i finally looked it up this morning. that's right, i didn't know what district i was in, let alone who is up for election. yes, i know, i know. i'm an irresponsible american, i'm taking my voting rights for granted. tsk tsk. but honestly, is it just me or have things gotten out of control a little bit? so forgive me for not taking it seriously.

now i know that clinton went on arsenio when he was campaigning and that was seen as very unconventional and cool. but in this past election, with all the talk of change and hope and awesomeness, well wasn't that just my generation's way of picking the cooler candidate? (aka, high school politics 101). that said, it was exciting to have a candidate that resonated with a younger generation and sparked interest and involvement. but seriously? i don't even want to get into how much of a popularity contest that was.

and where are we now?  and no, i don't mean a where are we now in terms of the state of our nation. i'll leave that to the likes of brian williams to talk about.  i mean, where are we now, as in, what is the current crazy level of our country?

let's see....we have a "tea party"? politically, i'm not even sure what they are. i'm guessing it's sarah palin's crazy train with a proposed trip through coo-koo town. like i said, i don't know anything about politics, but i know crazy.

restore sanity rally? full disclosure, i admire jon stewart. i think he's funny and interesting (read: handsome). stephen colbert, i cannot stand....cannot......stand. so the idea of packing in like sardines on the national mall to hear colbert be unfunny did not appeal to me. and i'd love to know of all the people who went to the rally, how many actually voted today? did we "restore sanity"? and while i'm ranting, can i just ask jon stewart if he could refrain from calling the president of our country "dude"? i wouldn't even call my boss "dude" (partly because, she's a she) so let alone the "boss of our country".

and our honorable president going on ryan seacrest? a sit down with barbara walters, i get that. an interview with oprah, ok. but ryan seacrest? don't get me wrong, i love e! news and my famous people updates, but i don't really want to see our president talking to ryan seacrest. seacrest should stick to what he knows, what he's good at - celeb rehab news, idol wannabes, and the kardashians.

i guess what i'm trying to say is, that while i love my dose of celeb gossip and people.com daily reading, maybe, just maybe, if you want me to take my voting rights and the entire election process seriously, that we don't make up random political parties, hold fake inspirational rallies, and put our president on entertainment radio (you already won, you don't need to "connect" with my dumb-dumb generation, just make sure i don't lose my 401k before i retire. yes, focus on that, please.).

and that marks my first (and last) political commentary. happy voting. go america!

"i'd like to see paris before i die. philadelphia will do." - mae west

I'd like to see Paris before I die. Philadelphia will do.  - Mae West

My last post was all about my one-year wedding anniversary celebration in Napa. Well, when my husband and I began talking about the trip (the planning started shortly after we were married and returned from our honeymoon), we decided that the trip itself would be our “gift.” And honestly, I was okay with that. True, that I can list about 20 things I’d love to receive as a gift at any given moment (It’s really amazing how my brain can think of that in an instant yet can’t recall where I put my keys this morning. But if you need to know anything about new items on the Tory Burch website, I’m your girl.)

So about a month before the trip, I was working from home and before leaving for work that day, my husband turns to me and says, “Don’t pick up any of the packages from the mail today.” Hmmmm, interesting. Clearly, that means there is a gift coming in the mail for me! Hooray!! But I acted cool and said, “Oh, what? Sure sure, sounds good.” Meanwhile, I started going through all the things I could have possibly mentioned in the past couple months. What in the world was I going to get?!?!?!

And then it hit me. “Wait a minute,” I thought, “if HE’S getting ME a gift, I’m not going to look like a chump and not give a gift on our ONE YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. “ Maybe after a couple years, it won’t be as important (strike that, of course it will be) but not on this one.  Now, while I can list off all the wonderful things I want, I stress out about what to get others, especially my husband.  After a couple ideas, which were immediately shot down when I ran them by a few friends, I immediately figured it out – THE PERFECT GIFT! Tickets to a concert for the band whose song was played for our first dance at our wedding! Yes, it’s fun because it’s a concert, it’s sentimental which makes it perfect for anniversary purposes, and it’s in Philadelphia….wait, it’s in Philadelphia. Now I LOVE traveling. LOVE IT. But this past year has involved some intense travel and the concert itself was going to be the weekend after we returned from a wedding in NYC.  But since, I hadn’t worked a full work week in a few weeks, why buck the trend now? So I booked it and surprised him with the gift when we were in NAPA.

Ok, ok, long backstory. But now to the Philly part of this blog!

We decided to drive up and road trip it. For the record, I hate being in the car more than 3-4 hours at a time, so this was the ideal roadtrip (sorry, honey, we are NEVER going to drive cross country). We stayed at the Sofitel in Rittenhouse Square. If you’ve never stayed at a Sofitel, book your trip now. It doesn’t even matter where it is. Just do it. I mainly love it because the beds are like clouds. Soft, fluffy, king-sized clouds (sigh….I miss the bed).

Anyway, we get to the hotel and I immediately take a nap in the cloud bed. I wake up refreshed and start to get ready for the concert. There’s a knock on the door and it’s room service. The hotel has sent us champagne and strawberries in honor of our anniversary.  

Quelle magnifique!

our well dressed strawberries

So we down the champagne and head to dinner at Parc where we gorge ourselves on yummy delicious food. The restaurant sends us a dessert with sparklers. I love being celebrated!

Next up, the concert! We arrive at the venue and no one is there. Well there are a few people there but not many. I think this was due in part to the opening bands, which were good but, good in a “this is my dad’s band, he likes to play Grateful Dead type music with his buddies in his spare time” kind of way. Ok, they were better than that and actually my dad doesn’t play in a band but you get the idea. So then Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers hit the stage. The concert was amazing, especially because I was practically sitting on the stage. Here a few of my awesome photos (I know, you are in awe of my photography skills and think the band should hire me)…

the stage before the sk6er magic

stephen kellogg himself

cue the tuba!

After the concert we decide to walk home…which seemed like it was a good idea because everything was so close to our hotel. Things look a lot closer on google maps. Very tricky. And then we decide we want to order pizza from room service. We were full of great ideas that night!

Day two we decide to walk around Philly and soak in the rich history of the city. Well,  I just wanted to pose next to the statues.

posing perfection

We went on a carriage ride tour, at which point, I decided that I want to live in Society Hill…mainly because it’s called Society Hill.   After our intense history lesson (again, it was a lesson for me because I don’t remember anything I learned in high school), it was time for the main attraction – the ANTHROPOLOGIE CASTLE. For those of you who don’t know, the Anthropologie in Philly is four levels. FOUR. My husband didn’t last long in the store but, conveniently the store castle was a block from our hotel. Gosh, I wonder how that happened. So after giving the castle all my money (in exchange for all their clothes) I finally headed back to prepare for our big time dinner at LaCroix (Big Time – said in Paul Rudd’s voice from “I Love You, Man”).   Sadly, this meant that my husband would miss the second half of the Wisconsin/Ohio State game. Lucky for us, we sat next to a table at LaCroix who was also interested in the game and gave us updates throughout the night. Soooooo lucky!

The best part of the night –  (if you ask my husband, it would be the huge win for Wisconsin over #1 Ohio State) was when the restaurant sent us TWO desserts for our anniversary (note, we’d also ordered two on our own, so we now had 4 desserts). God, I love anniversaries.

And with that, Happy One-Year Anniversary (again).

1 whole year! we made it.

In honor of our one-year wedding anniversary, my husband and I planned a trip to Napa. 

where the magic begins

We flew out early Thursday morning…really early. As in I woke up at 4am. Gross.

Our first stop was Atlanta. It’s a quick flight that makes you believe that this whole trip is going to be quick. But it’s a lie. Because once you’re in Atlanta, you realize you still have to fly 4 more hours to actually get to your destination. Atlanta was just a 2-hour side trip to a place you never wanted to go to anyway.  My husband being self-sacrificing, let’s me have the window seat and graciously takes the middle seat, next to a bowling ball. Meanwhile, I sleep comfortably. Well as comfortably as you can sleep on the plane.  How comfortable is waking up every 15 minutes, really?

We land in San Francisco, pick up our rental and drive out to Napa Valley. We arrive at our hotel, AVIA, a modern hotel within walking distance to restaurants and shops.  Being the classic Danny Tanner, I ask that we plan out our days.

The first day, we head to a group wine tour. The limo picks us up and we meet the other couples. It was like wine prom! We were fortunate enough to have a great group of young couples…and the quiet Asian woman with her dad.  It was interesting. I’m sure she appreciated that I pointed out how my underdog college beat her college football team last week.  Ah, making friends wherever I go.

The funny thing about wine tours is that you start off very proper and appropriate and then you find yourself asking about the wine gloves the tour guide referred to (for the record, he said, “wine club” but you could have sworn he said “wine gloves” and now you want to know what those are and where you can find them!)

delicious delicious wine

The next day was our designated driver tour. Basically, a driver comes to your hotel and drives you to vineyards in your rental car. It’s awesome. We drove to smaller boutique vineyards that essentially treated you like VIP.  This is the life! Again, you start off the day demure and sweet and by the end; you’re asking the vineyard owner if you could have a diet coke from their private fridge. By the way, they say yes, you’re VIP afterall (or they just hope that you’ll take the diet coke and be on your way).

By day three, drinking wine was a chore. “Yeah, your cabernet sauvignon is great. But, I’ve had better. Or at least I think I have.  Seriously, do you have a diet coke?“

The night of our actual anniversary, we had reservations at Micheal Chirello’s Bottegga. 

little did we know what awaited us

We saved ourselves all day so when we arrived we forewarned our server. “We are going to order an obscene amount of food.” She giggles. Silly.  No, seriously, it was obscene (I’ve numbered the list to illustrate the insanity):

1.  We order the calamari. The calamari is served with a squid ink aioli. Forget that I hate mayo, this is incredible.
2. But what’s dinner at an Italian restaurant w/o caprese salad? The caprese salad is served with balsamic caviar.  I know, what is that, right? Well it’s balsamic vinegar that they add a tiny bit of gelatin to and then drop out into tiny little gems. Delicious.
3. Then our next order arrives – polenta in jar that’s served with crispy mushrooms and parm.  It was basically as though mashed potatoes had a love affair with macaroni and cheese and bred this creamy delicious goodness.
4.  The next dish was the proscuittio with little parm donuts that you dip into a chilled melon soup. This I didn’t eat but my husband did. (At this point the couple next to us is looking at us in horror. They’re thinking “how are these Americans eating so much food? They are disgusting.” We look at them, recognize their horror and just tell them, we’re still waiting on our entrée.  But truthfully, at this point, we ourselves are disgusted too. It’s like we were living our own episode of Man vs. [Gourmet] Food. It was torture.)
5. So our entrees arrive (I ordered the angry prawns and I can’t even remember what my husband ordered. I think it was lamb or pork. At this point my vision was blurred and my memory was waning). We are doing everything we can to not get sick at the actual table.  I look at my husband to see his eyes are tearing and he actually might vomit…at the table. But I can tell he’s fighting hard. We play with our food and take a few bites. TORTURE. And the server takes away our plates.
6.  But wait! My husband had decided at the beginning of the meal to surprise me with dessert (chocolate hazelnut soufflé). He’s so sweet but we are really going to die at this table. Even the server recognizes the fear at the thought of more food. As she places the chocolate soufflé on our table, she looks at me and says “I’m really sorry.” We take a bite and then just pray for the check.

happy anniversary!

Moral of that story, just plan a follow-up trip  to Bottega and eat comfortably.

Our 5 days in Napa were incredible and delicious. The weather was lovely, the people were sweet and the wine was poetry (I read that on a sign). Next time, we should stay for a month!

you want me to jump out of what?!

September 12^th. 6 am – I wake up suddenly. I’m sweating. Not in a “there are too many covers” kind of way but a cold sweat. Like a “there’s fear living in my body” type of sweat. I think, “This is the day. This is actually happening.”

Flashback a few weeks…that’s when it all started. My husband and I were going whitewater rafting with a few friends. On the car ride there, our friend says that in honor of his 30^th birthday, he’s going to go skydiving. I instantly say that I’ve always wanted to do that and that I’d definitely go. It’s not even like I paused. That was the immediate reaction. It was as though my brain didn’t even have time to interject. Maybe I just thought that it wasn’t something that was going to happen. Maybe it was because I already thought I was so extreme that skydiving was a natural next move. For the record, I’m not extreme. Not at all. I mean, the whitewater rafting that day consisted of us floating down the Potomac alongside people tubing down the river…with coolers floating next to them…and there I was with my paddle and helmet. Completely extreme.

Ok, so then a week or two pass by and we are at the beach with friends, when our same friend says, “I’m calling the skydiving place tomorrow. I’m going to book it.” Great. I can’t wait to jump out of a plane.

From that moment on, it was ritualistic review of the skydiving company’s website – What does it feel like to jump out of a plane? How far up to go?! What happens if you wet yourself? Wait a minute. What am I doing??  (They didn’t have an answer to that last question. They did, however, have an answer to “Can I bring my pet?” Why would you bring your pet? But then again, why would you jump out of a plane?)

So 6am the morning of, my body must have realized what was happening. I wonder if my brain was finally like, “Hey, body, you know you’re going to throw yourself out of plane today, right? Yeah, this was a choice. Free will. Idiot.”

My friends came by around 9 am and we were on our way. The weather was rainy and gross. “No way are they going to let us jump today, “I thought. I read the website 20 times, remember. We called the company when we were about 20 miles away and they said none of the morning groups had jumped but if wanted to come by anyway, we’d see if it would clear up. We figured we were 20 miles away so we might as well just go. We get to the site and there is a tiny pocket of sky visible. Hmmm, maybe this was divine intervention. Maybe God, was like, “I’d prefer you to live. I don’t have time to look after you today. I have more important things to tend to.” But for some reason, we proceeded to start ground training, just in case that the weather cleared up. The first step was to watch the “informational video” which was bizarre and what I’d expect of a cult video. It was an old guy with a long beard, wearing a suit and sitting behind a desk, welcoming us. Seriously? Step two was about 10 pages of us signing off next to all the people we weren’t allowed to sue should anything go wrong. How reassuring.  I think we also had to write down our address about 15 times. I guess if something were to happen, they figured they go collect our stuff. It’s not like we had any permission to sue them at that point.  So far, I thought, I hate this ground training. Ok, final step of ground training – prepare for the actual jump. That basically consisted of squatting and learning two positions – the safety position which was us clutching our backpack straps and the superman position where we extend our arms and bend at the elbows. Then we laid on the ground and pretended to be falling.  Hmm, this is easy. Then, we waited. And waited. The names went up for the groups. About 4 hours later, our names were up! We were going to do this. I  suited up (in my awesome purple and orange astronaut suit), put on my little leather shower cap and goggles and made my way to plane. You know what I was not expecting, taking off in the plane backwards. You basically board and straddle this bench with your back towards the cockpit and zoom…backwards. My instructor tells me that I seem really calm. Really? Maybe my body is shutting down and trying to repress this entire thing. But I just say, oh, yeah, I’m ready to jump. God, I’m so extreme. He says, “Great, we’ll be the second to jump”…wait, what?

So they open the door, the first group scoots off the bench and 3, 2, 1, jump. Oh my god, that was so quick but the next thing I know, we’re making our way to the door. The videographer/photog is hanging out of the plane documenting the entire thing. Yes, he was literally hanging out of the plane. The next minute or so went something like this:

Don’t look down, don’t look down.

Oh my god, we are looking down.

JUMP.

Aghhh, we are flipping. We didn’t practice for this. Close your eyes, close your eyes. Don’t watch this.

Wait, I just paid a lot for this experience. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!

Oh god, there’s too much oxygen. I’m going to throw up.

No, don’t throw up. Look at the camera. Look at the camera.

Smile. Smile.

Why is the videographer making that signal? Am I supposed to pull the chute?  No, it’s too soon. No wait, is it time?

CHUTE PULL…BY THE INSTRUCTOR.

“I’m so sorry I forgot to pull the chute” – me to the instructor.

FLOATING.

“Welcome to my office” – the instructor to me.

FLY THROUGH A CLOUD.

FLOATING.

ANNDDDDDDDD…. LANDING.

seriously, that's me!

i did this willingly.

The entire fall lasted about 5 minutes, the first minute of which was perhaps the scariest thing I’ve ever done. But it was incredible and I’d do it again. Maybe. 

parting is such sweet sorrow

(first off  - yes, i'm still alive, i just haven't blogged in months because i'm lazy. but not because i haven't wanted to. in fact, i'm always thinking, "oh i should write that on my blog" but then i get home and sitting on my couch watching a "real housewives of new jersey" rerun just seems more appealing then typing on a computer. l-a-z-y. so my apologies...again. and it won't be the last i'm sure. ok, now to the blog.....)

so yesterday was a tragic day.

i cleaned out my closet! well, WE (my husband and i) cleaned out the closet. there, i gave him credit.

i've been dreading cleaning out the closet for months (MONTHS) but yesterday was it. didn't i just move in with my husband less than a year ago, you ask? yes, yes i did. and i purged a lot of stuff before moving in but my shameful shopping addiction had left us in quite the predicament.

after squeezing clothes into drawers and onto shelves, it was time. i mean, my clothes deserve some respect. the beautiful gems should not have to be mushed into just any old available space. they don't expect to mingle with clothes of the hideous past (i.e., my red zip up sweatshirt from 8th grade. god i was sad to let that go but ugly is ugly. or worse yet, my "dressy" gauchos. sometimes, i question my own taste. but only sometimes).

aside from hating manual labor, i think it was emotionally painful. my clothes are my little kiddies. so yes, basically, i was discarding my children yesterday (mommyhood, here i come!) and giving away even the ugly clothes was sad. but there are some things that you just don't want to get rid of...

• the fat jeans - the jeans that you wear when you put on about 5-10 lbs. also known as "i'll wear these when i'm pregnant" jeans.
• the skinny jeans - not to be confused with the trendy new "skinny jeans" these jeans are how you measure your weight (i.e., "if i fit into these, i'm officially skinny." also known as the "i can't believe i ever fit in these" jeans).
• the stinky pants - the lounge pants i wore during and post college. the ones that have a hole that i sewed up. also known as the pants my mom claimed was the reason i was single in college. they're amazingly hideous and wonderfully comfortable. and for the record, i kept them. so there.
• the jcrew sweaters - also known as the "i paid too much to just give these away but i haven't worn them in over 3 years so they really need to go" sweaters. i have too many of them to mention and really, they're from jcrew. when are they going to go out of style. but let's face it, i'm not wearing them and they're taking up room for all the other jcrew sweaters i could be buying.
• the chanel blazer - ok, if this was really a chanel blazer you'd have to rip it out of my dead, cold hands. but it's really the "i swear, this looks like a chanel boucle blazer" blazer. it's also the one i tried on for my husband who responded with "throw it out. it's kind of ugly." i guess this means i just need to buy a REAL chanel blazer.

a couple things i realized during the entire process:

1. i really need to be more discerning when i go shopping. i'm happy to say i have become more so in the past 2 years but really, i'm not sure how some of that stuff even landed in my closet to begin with. embarrassing.
2. my husband always manages to rationalize keeping that one ugly hawaiian shirt. i swear we've cleaned out the closet twice in the past year and that thing always seems to survive.
3. i don't need 25 pairs of jeans. i really don't. i dont' know how i've justified keeping them for so long. now i'm down to 7. that just seems fair.
4. i didn't like the shirt my husband wore on our first date. i learned this when he asked "remember this?" holding up the shirt and i thought he said "what do you think of this?" to which i responded "it's ugly, donate!" oops.
5. lastly, now that i have all this extra space, i could use some new clothes.

pay it forward

today, i was at a local office for a meeting. the garage, unfortunately, only accepts cash. as i pulled into the garage, i knew that at some point i was going to have to run to the bank to get some money. luckily, there's a bank about 3 blocks from the office. once i wrapped up the meeting, i finished up some notes to myself, packed up, and made my way to the bank. at this point, the sky was quickly becoming black.

sidenote: there are several things, i hate about living in dc. 1) summers are hot, muggy, and generally disgusting. it's like walking through a swamp. a 5 minute walk to the metro really feels like, a 11.5 hour wimbledon tennis match. so, isner, i don't feel for you. that's how sweaty and exhausted i feel just walking to the train. it's totally the same. trust me.

so here i am, in my 3 inch heels, walking as fast as my little barbie stilettos will allow me. and about 1 block away, as i'm standing there, waiting for the pedestrian light to grant me permission to cross the street, i feel the first trickle of rain. and from trickle, we move on into full fledged monsoon. i run. cars be damned, i am not standing on the sidewalk. i run into the bank to get the cash and am just staring out the window. how am i going to get back to my car? slowly, i find myself with a group of patrons. we're all staring out the window. we look like kids who were just told there'd be no recess. pitiful. so since, i'm stranded, i start chatting it up with the bankers.

sidenote: lately, i find that i'm starting up conversations with strangers. i take this as a clear sign that i'm aging....or turning into my father....or both (i love you dad).

ok, back to the bankers. one of them offers me an umbrella. she says, take this and bring it back whenever. i tell her, i'm just down the street a few blocks so once i pick up my car i'll drive back to return the umbrella. again, she insists, "don't worry about it. bring it back whenever". with umbrella in hand, i sit back down in the chair at the bank. umbrella or not, it's a monsoon. i'm not going out there unless you put me in a hazmat suit. it dies down a little and i decide to make a run for it. as i walk towards the door, this little old lady looks at me with puppy dog eyes. she speaks little english so when i ask her if she wants to share the umbrella with me, she says, "to car." her car was just in the bank lot so i walked here there and went on my way. i figured if the bank was nice enough to lend me an umbrella, i might as well pay it forward (and, maybe pocket a little good karma for the day). you're welcome, universe. so how does the universe repay me? i walk into an enormous puddle (lake) and now my feet are sopping. also, because i was sharing the umbrella, the entire left side of my body is soaking wet. huddling under my umbrella, trying my best to not get the laptop in my purse wet, i managed to make it safely to my car and pay the dumb garage fee.

there are a couple morals to this story - 1) always carry an umbrella, 2) do not wear open toe shoes when the forecast calls for rain, 3) always makes your husband leave you money and, finally, 4) be awesome and nice (like me).

trapped in a closet...er, dressing room

may is national shopping month. no? it's not? well regardless, i'm observing it. this past weekend, i was shopping in georgetown and at one of my favorite spots...jcrew. yes, yes, yes, i realize that the last few posts have been about this place so are you really that surprised? exactly. so anyway, i'm at the store in search of another bikini to take on my cabo trip (this weekend! actually in 2 days! i'm going to cabo!!!hooray!)....

...let me digress for one brief moment. why is that that months leading up to this trip, i'm parked at the gym, working out, sweating away. and then, in the weeks leading to the trip, my body decides that it does not want to work out AND instead it wants to consume endless amounts of food. seriously, i've never been so hungry in my life. it's borderline disgusting. basically, i'm going to look amazing in my bikinis. amazingly full.

...ok so back to jcrew. we'd made our rounds at some other stores around town and i decided to drop in to see if i could pick up one last bikini. i grab two and a sales associate asks if i want to start a fitting room. usually, my answer is no because i like to walk around with my items and mix and match with other stuff. so i'm editing along the way and don't want to give it up. but occasionally, like that day, i agree. a little while later, i make my way to the dressing rooms. only the line is insane. why do they only have 4 dressing rooms for women? does that seem very well thought out? so i see the sales associate and i say, "i think you started a room for me." and he responds, "yes,  just wait in line." ok, so what exactly is the point of starting a fitting room that isn't actually started for you? i debated waiting and finally decided against it and let him know...only to change my mind 30 seconds later and get back in line. the sales associate sees me and kindly says, "i'll pull you over to the other dressing rooms." OTHER DRESSING ROOMS? why are these people waiting in line then? oh well, see you suckers!

we head to the men's dressing rooms which are completely empty because men hate trying clothes on. while i'm in there, i hear someone knock and i say that i'm in the room and i hear a click and they move on. with one new bikini successfully found, i get dressed and ready to head to the register....and the next few minutes went something like this:

i pull on the handle and the door won't budge. i try locking and unlocking it again and pull on the handle. nothing. i think, "ok, don't panic. you're stuck in jcrew. this would normally sound awesome. just grab the cell and call your cousin. she's right outside." dial dial dial...ring...CALL FAIL. no signal. seriously? next i tried pounding on the door, which sounds pretty ridiculous, right? i mean it's not like i'm going to be screaming "LET ME OUT" yeah, see, very dumb. but no one responds. i say a little prayer and pull on the handle again. that doesn't work at all. that was a stupid idea. why would i think that would work. i sit on the bench and then i hear footsteps. someone is nearby! i yell, "I'M LOCKED IN" (yes, i actually yelled that. there i am inside the dressing room, yelling for someone to save me). the guy unlocks the door and i go running out. and, i'm totally embarrassed. and irritated (which moron locked me inside the dressing room?)

i head to the register and pay for my bikini. traumatized. scared. but ready for cabo.

maybe next time, i should just wait in line.

i've made it in life!

so this past friday, i had the day off and decided i was due for a shopping spree. yes, a shopping spree...at my same 3 stores: jcrew, anthropologie, and ann taylor. the entire time, i justified my purchases by thinking, i work really hard and if i can't have my dream job, i should at least have a dream wardrobe. granted, a dream
wardrobe would include louboutins and designer clothes but i have to start somewhere, right? and in any case, i love jcrew so who am i kidding? i'd always shop there.

while i was at jcrew, i decided that i'd sign up for a card. (it's hard to believe i don't already have one, right? well actually i did but apparently if you don't use it for 8 years, they close the account.) so when you sign up, you get a gift card for every $500 you spend. i think the gift card is only like $25 but listen, if jcrew wants to give me money, i'll take it. however, when i explained why i signed up for a card to my husband, i decided to explain the gift card as a cost savings. listen, it's math.

anyway, while i was checking out, i started chatting it up with the sales associate and somehow the conversation got into a personal shopper. next thing i know, i have a personal shopper! i know. omg, i have a personal shopper. i've finally made it in life! in that moment, i decided, if i don't have a dream job, then i should at least make the most of being able to afford shopping and having a personal shopper!(note: the personal shopper is totally free so really, i haven't made it that far in life.)

(total sidenote: i was really disappointed that i didn't win the $226m megamillions lottery last week. i really thought that i had a shot. i mean who needs that $226m more than me? oh well. sigh.)

anyway, i met my personal shopper (anthony...yeah, it's a boy) the first thing he said to me was, "oh, i recognize you." hmmm, maybe i'm there too often? i can't wait for him to email me and put clothes aside for me.  i also can't wait to be totally broke (except of course, for all that "cost savings" from my jcrew gift cards).

i will keep you posted on the treasures he finds for me (hopefully they'll be on sale!)...

wanted: dream job

do you ever have the feeling that the universe is trying to tell you something? well, the past two weeks, i've been inundated with stories of dream jobs. it all started when i was working from home. there i was sitting on my couch in my pjs, vigoursly typing away. in the background, i had the tv on mute (yes, i need the tv on mute in order to write, it's bizarre, i know). well the tv was set to a documentary on autism and this mother's quest to communicate with her child. i decided to take a break and watch part of the documentary. the story featured a woman based out of austin, who had created a therapy method that enabled communication with these kids who never spoke. to anyone. ever.  it was amazing, here is this woman, not trained at all in psychology who had created an entire method! so that got me thinking about what i'm passionate about.
so on the one hand, i love academia. i dream of being a professor. i love learning. and, after watching this documentary, i thought, i need to work in my field (psychology). i need to study autism and give back. basically, i need to find a cure for autism.

the following week, while at the gym, i picked up a magazine and one of the feature articles was about women who pursued their dream job. sigh. why didn't i do that? oh yeah, because i didn't want to be poor..not even if it's just for a year. so that article got me thinking. what would my dream job be.....

then last week, oprah was all about dream jobs! (ok, universe. i get it. dream job, dream job, dream job.) so on that episode was the executive creative director at jcrew. there she was in her cute striped boatneck top and glam sequin pants, and overpriced jcrew heels. sigh. maybe that's my dream job. because, while on the one hand, my brain is convinced i belong in academia, the other half of my brain is deeply rooted in...well, pretty things. i love finding them, buying them, wearing them. love love love. so maybe that's my dream job! next thing i knew, i was looking up personal shopper positions at bloomingdales and anthropologie (anyone want to be a client?!). and immediately following that, i went to jcrew to buy that striped bateau top and some slouch pants (even i am not glam enough for sequin pants). basically, i'm convinced that if i can't be the executive creative director of jcrew, i should definitely dress like her. and, if by some beautiful coincidence you're reading this, jenna, please hire me...and pay me a six-figure salary. pretty please?

truthfully, i don't know what my dream job is...because yes, i do want to do something meaningful and relevant but i also want to do something fun and playful. i want to wake up in the mornings and be excited to go to the office. i want the hours to fly by because i love what i do. oh and i'd like to get paid well for it. really well. as in bags and bags of money. that's perfectly reasonable right? so if you happen to come across such a position, let me know. i've always wanted to be the executive director of all things awesome.

deathplow

so a few weeks ago, i went on my first family vacation. well, first in-law vacation. a ski trip to park city, utah.

let me preface this story by saying that i did not begin skiing until i dated my husband. he grew up skiing and next to him, i look like a newborn deer learning to stand for the first time. i've taken lessons and been skiing a few times over the past 4 years, so i'm what you would call an intermediate beginner...clearly i've come a long way from my beginner beginner days (when i used to pitch my poles and pinwheel down the mountain..ok, so i still do that on occasion). i grew up "protected" from sports. my mom was worried i'd get hurt, or worse, scar my legs! instead, i grew up to wear high heels that resulted in foot surgery, which left me with a hideous scar on my toe (just goes to show you that one cannot escape destiny). before i left for the trip, my mother gave me a little advice, "honey, don't try to show off out there." right, mom, show off. that was my initial plan. but you're right, i'll decide against it.

as i mentioned, my husband grew up skiing and so did his entire family. upon arriving in salt lake, our first stop was to the ski shop...to buy me a helmet. at first, i thought, i'm not really flying down advanced runs so why is a helmet necessary? it would be like me wearing a helmet to walk around downtown. but then my sister-in-law lovingly pointed out how natasha richardson took a light tumble on a green run and DIED. soooooooooo, i bought a helmet. a children's helmet (yes, my head is that small). i was torn between the dora the explorer and ninja designs but in the end opted for my brown helmet with a ninja on the back.

ok, to the mountain.

day 1 - we start the day with the bunny hill so my body can remember what it has to do. i like to call that my french fry/pizza run (and this is why i'm only an intermediate beginner. i still use the french fry/pizza technique to describe skiing).  i warmed up and got to the greens. by the end of the day, i did one or two blues and called it a success.

day 2 - i like to refer to this day as "the day i escaped death". feeling confident, i was ready to go. i skied some greens and blues before lunch, met up with the fam for a bite to eat, and then it was time to hit the mountain. my in-laws suggested we all take a blue together. at this point, i apparently thought i was olympic material so i was like, "great idea, let's do it!" we take the lift up and i ski off the lift and then the run curves. when i go around the curve, i see that my husband and mother-in-law are stopped....AT THE EDGE OF A CLIFF. this is a blue run?! after a few minutes, the rest of the fam continued the run but there i was. staring down the mountain, certain that this run would either kill me or break every bone in my body. my husband tried to encourage me and said, "don't get scared. you can always just pizza down." ok, pizza down. ok yes, i can do that. i moved my skis ready to pizza slice them across the mountain. but in the process, they french-fried and i went flying until i managed to go into ragdoll mode and pinwheel down a few feet. that's when i went into full panic attack mode and was hyperventilating (for the record, a panic attack on a mountain is not ideal. also, i really question my fight/flight response if in the face of death, i'm going to just hyperventilate. good to know in case of a major emergency). anyway, my husband convinced me to take my skis off and try to walk down the steep portion. so i did. and that is the last time i listen to my husband. what i learned is that when you're on a steep run and you take off your skis, you go deathplowing (yes, DEATHPLOWING) down a mountain and your boots only help you gain more speed. so as i'm plowing down, i'm basically scraping along, trying to dig my fingers into the snow to slow me down or better yet stop me. i finally stopped at which point i put my skis back on and pizza'ed my way to the flatter part of the run. it took me about an 45 minutes to finish that run. i ended the day with 4 big bruises along the inside of my leg and a lifetime worth of trauma.

day 3 - it is really a surprise that i even put skis on. it was almost like i was tempting fate. but day 3 was good. i skied blues all day with a couple falls sprinkled a long the way just so god could remind me why my mother "protected" me from sports all those years. near the end of the day, i skied a blue run with my husband, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and his gf. there i am, skiing down a blue! i can't believe it. i've done great that day! as i'm reciting "left foot, right foot" over and over again (that's my alternative to french fry/pizza), i suddenly see a snowboard to my right, a few inches from my face. luckily, it misses my face but clips my wrist. in the midst of all this, i somehow managed to just calmly turn left and come to a stop. meanwhile, everyone i was skiing with just saw an out of control snowboarder pummel into me, barely missing my head (i'm still not sure how it is humanly possible to get your snowboard 5 feet off the ground). my husband comes over to see if i'm ok and i just tell him that my wrist hurts and it'll prob just bruise (oh you know, just another bruise to add to the collection i'm putting together on this trip). my brother-in-law decides to chase the snowboarder down the mountain. did i mention the snowboarder was 12?

day 4 - who will try to kill me today? as it turns out, no one. i skied greens and blues. i did a few mini moguls when i decided to follow my husband down a path between a few trees. (note to self, do not ski on paths between trees) but all in all, it was uneventful. i didn't fall. there was no hyperventilating. and no snowboarder tried to crush my skull. success!

i made it home, a little tattered and a lot bruised but able to say i skied my first blues! oh and, i'd like to thank my sister-in-law for encouraging me to buy a helmet.  best advice ever...aside obviously from my mother's wise words to not show off.

march (cooking) madness! UPDATE

just wanted to fill you all in on the outcome of the spinach and mushroom lasagna. first, it was delicious. would i make some changes? perhaps. ok, yes. so here's what i would recommend doing differently:

1. add a little more sauce. you don't necessarily need it on every layer but i would have put more on the top layer.
2. i'd add some more spice. it was yummy but i like my food with a little kick so i'd have put some cayenne in there to turn up the heat.
3. i would, as i mentioned in the post, increase the mushroom mixture and perhaps just mix it in with the ricotta/spinach mixture and layer it in all at once. i think that might make the mixture more cohesive.

ok, those are my lessons learned. i will definitely be making this again. i also think this would be a yummy mix for stuffed shells or homemade ravioli!

march (cooking) madness!

so, the last few weeks i've been trying to live up to my new years resolution to try new recipes and cook more....that's right, no more $10 whole foods salads! with the exception of ordering sushi once a week, i am doing pretty well. god, i love sushi. but now since march madness has offically begun in my household, i decided it's time to get serious and really start cooking (don't get me wrong, i LOVE watching basketball on full blast on our tv and on our computers...oh yeah, and by love, i mean tolerate).

i recently found the show and book 'cook yourself thin' which takes traditional recipes and cuts down the calories by substituting different ingredients (e.g., cakes with no butter or oil that taste amazing and are 200 calories for a a lovely, not paper thin slice). i've made the apple spice cake and shockingly, it was good. too good. i practically ate the whole thing on my own. oops...how's that for portion size? but i realize that most of the world likes butter and oil. so you may not be quite ready for that recipe.

but who doesn't love lasagna?! here's my stab at the spinach and mushroom lasagna. i took some liberties with the recipe so we'll see how that works out (we're eating it tonight! surprise, honey, i made dinner!)

 the stars of the show - mushrooms! (i used cremini and baby bella) and spinach!

my addition: sun-dried tomatoes (not in oil version...hence looking like gross worms)

before and after...i know, based on the before, i wasn't too optimistic either but the after looks pretty good, right?

the aftermath...maybe my husband will do the dishes tonight

so here's the recipe. like i said, i didn't follow it to a tee. i added onions and sun-dried tomatoes to the mushroom mixture. oh and yes, i didn't read the directions and didn't alternate the layers with tomato sauce. yeah, we'll see how it tastes but i can tell you my house smells amazing from just the prep work (which took about 30 min.)

enjoy!

spinach and mushroom veggie lasagna

makes 12 servings (we'll see about that)

337 calories per serving

2 tablespoons of olive oil (i used 1)

1.5 pounds of cremini and/or shitake mushrooms (i recommend more!)

1 teaspoon dried thyme

pinch of kosher salt

1 15oz part skim ricotta (i eyeballed this)

3/4 cup skim milk

2 eggs (i used 1)

3 cups of shredded mozzarella (i used about 1.5 - 1 in the mixture and 0.5 on top)

3/4 cup grated parmesean

1 10 oz frozen spinach  (i used fresh spinach, about 3/4 of a package)

1/3 cup of fresh basil

1 teaspoon of dried oregano

pinch of ground pepper

5 cups of tomato sauce (i used about 1 - 0.5 for the bottom of the pan and 0.5 on the top layer...oops)

12 sheets of no-cook lasagna noodles

non-stick cooking spray

directions

1. preheat oven to 375
2. heat olive oil in skillet over medium heat. add mushrooms and thyme and season with salt (and pepper). cook until softened (about 10-12 minutes)
3. in medium bowl, combine ricotta, milk, eggs and stir. add 1 c of the mozzarella, the parm, spinach, basil, and oregano. season with salt/pepper.
4. spread 1 cup of tomato sauce on bottom of 9x13x2 pan. layer 4 sheets of lasagna, slightly overlapping. spread half the ricotta mixture on the noodles and cover with half the mushroom. mix. top with 1.5 c of tomato sauce. repeat with 4 layers. cover top layer with tomato sauce and remaining mozzarella.
5. lightly coat sheet of foil with cooking spray and cover uncooked lasagna. 
6. bake at 375 for 45 min
7. remove foil and increase oven temp to 475. cook until cheese browns (approx 12 min).
8. 8. let stand for 15 min before cutting. serve warm and garnish with basil.

hmmm...so after typing that, i realize that i probably should have actually read the directions myself prior to starting this. my layers don't have tomato sauce...just the top and bottom layers. i used less cheese, only 1 egg, and i didn't see the stray noodle in the box so my top layer only has 3 noodles. ahh, the joys of cooking...ok, enjoy!!

and this little piggy is feeling blue...

last week was painful. physically. no i wasn't overworked or overstressed. no no, none of that. you see, my little pinky toe was in physical pain. in fact, it was blue...and purple....and swollen. it was gross. to understand how i got here, we have to travel back to earlier this month when i went to ann taylor.

while at ann taylor, foolishly convincing myself that i needed more things to jam into my already stuffed sausage of a closet, i encountered these beauties:

va va va voom.

little did i know that these shoes were cursed (yes, CURSED!)...BUT gosh, they really are pretty, right?

at first, it was all love and rainbows with these shoes. they made my legs look miles long, they went with everything, and they're patent leather. i mean, who doesn't love a good patent heel? one day, while at work, i was returning from a meeting. it was late afternoon and most sane people had already left for the day. so i get to my floor and as i round the corner for my office, my heel catches in the forsaken carpet and splat! i fall literally on my face and my stack of papers goes flying. i mean, FLYING...EVERYWHERE. quickly, i scan the hall. no one saw (other than the security guard i'm sure. i wonder where they hide their cameras anyway). so next, i assess the damage -- one of my shoes is about 5 feet behind me (it flew off like it was trying to escape the crime scene), my tights are still intact (thank goodness for these small blessings) but my palms are red and slightly scraped and it feels like i broke both my kneecaps (but i can walk so clearly, nothing is broken). i gather my papers and my rogue shoe and scurry to my office. i get home, remove the tights only to find two enormous red-but-on-the-verge-of-purple bruises on each knee (how symmetrical). overnight, they transform to purple/black bruises. i temporarily retired the shoes.

but like any addict, i couldn't stay away long. a few weeks later, i was back in them...and walking very slowly. so i wore them a few days in a row..despite the throbbing that was now coming from my poor pinky toe. the little guy was screaming for mercy and, being cold and heartless, i ignored its pleas...until one day when i couldn't ignore it anymore. i took a look and found that my cute, scarred (i had surgery on the toe 7 years ago due to a pointy toe shoe incident) little baby toe had about tripled in size and was purple. immediately, i iced it, threw my patent shoes to the darkest corner of my closet, and prayed to the sweet lord above that the toe wouldn't fall off.

 i love you...i hate you...

i made an appt with the doctor and wore uggs everyday until then as penance (yes, even to work!)

ok quick sidenote since i mentioned it. now i'm pretty together when i go to work. and for this one week i wore black uggs with my outfits bc these pillow like, bear claw boots were the only ones that could comfortably accomodate the throbbing, swollen, angry monster that my pinky toe had become. one morning, as i was headed towards my office, i ran into my coworker who clearly gave me a complete once over followed by a look of disgust. yes, horror of horrors, i wore uggs to the office. BUT BUT BUT, i think when you yourself are wearing pants that are too short for you and white socks with black shoes (and you're a woman!!!), you shouldn't cast any stones (you know, given that you live in your glass and, clearly, fashionably challenged, house). ok, but i digress.

the doctor, who oddly reminds me of kirsten johnston (from 3rd rock from the sun fame), doesn't scold me for wearing high heels or try to convince me to wear orthopedics and care for my body. no no, instead she sings about how i have a big fat toe (i love her already) and we decide to shoot it up with some cortisone (YESSSSS! STEROIDS! LOVE IT!)  we decide that we're going to skip the anesthesia and just try to inject the toe with cortisone (i omitted some other gross details because,well, you would stop reading). so the nurse comes in and says, i think you might need to hold my hand. i'm like oh haha, that's sweet...meanwhile i'm clasping her hand and squeezing it for dear life.....all before the needle is even in my toe. ok, so needle in toe...skip ahead to cortisone injection and as the doctor switches the vial that is attached to the needle, the needle itself digs further into the toe at which point i SCREAM holy s! did i mention that this office is internal med + PEDIATRICS. i just imagine a little kid hearing me scream from the other side of the door. traumatic much? you're welcome for life, kiddo.

pre-coritisone shot

post-cortisone stabbing...i mean injection.

we wrap the toe and i'm back at the work. the past week, i've been elevating the toe, applying a heating pad, and wrapping it in its little cottonball/medical tape outfit. it's sad. my toe is still bruised but not longer swollen. no it just looks (and feels) defeated. and all for a pair of killer patent leather heels. hmmmmm, that reminds me...i wonder when i can wear them again???

...i love you...i miss you. this cautionary tale was lost on me.

couture for the soul

in the past week, mother nature has blanketed the washington dc area in mounds of snow. it was pretty for a minute but after being inside for the past 6 days, enough is enough. telecommuting has killed any joy this amount of snow could bring. while people are proclaiming snow days and the federal goverment has shut down, my days are spent with conference calls, write-ups, and more conference calls. all day, every day. i'm cranky, i'm tired, and, most importantly, i'm cold.

so yesterday, come 6pm, i needed saving. forget chicken soup.  i needed couture for the soul...and i didn't even know it.

after watching worthless movies this week like "role models," i wasn't in the mood for stupid 18-35 y.o. male-targeted comedy (the movie, despite what my brother promised, was not funny). i've had "changeling" on my dvr for weeks and, really, the last person i want to stare at for 2 hours right now is angelina (i think the world needs a break from her and brad. seriously.). and there's only so many times i can watch an old "what not to wear" rerun (how are these people so poorly dressed?!). see, i told you i'm cranky. anyway, thank god for netflix instant play. thank god!

i cuddled up in my bed under my soft cable knit blanket, with my mac beside me and started to watch valentino: the last emperor. streams of pale pink, white,and red chiffon. hand-sewn beading and sequins.  all with paris and rome as their backdrop. yes please (said as the wind whips snow against my bedroom window). as mother nature and the 2+ feet of snow attempted to drain my happiness, mr. valentino was able to replenish my mind with beautiful things...beautiful couture things. (bellisimo!) europe lifted my mood (how is that everything seems more sophisticated in europe?) even hearing valentino berate and insult everyone in italian cheered me up (and yes, mr. valentino, i completely agree that an evening gown that shows a woman's ankles as she walks is the most disgusting thing i've seen).

today, the sun is shining. the snow is melting. things are looking up!

..............until the weatherman promised more snow come monday. [sigh]

dopplegang-less

so this week was doppleganger week on facebook. how did this happen? is this just another way for celebrities to make us feel envious? probably so, and it's genius.


one by one, people started to change their profile pics - rachel bilson, anne hathaway, eva longoria, matt damon, etc. all beautiful people. so i thought, i wonder who i look like?! have i ever been compared to anyone? well, let's see in high school i was compared to teri hatcher during her superman days with dean cain. but let's be serious, teri hatcher now - shriveled...old...desperate. yeah, i'm going to say, there's no resemblance.


i turned to google and found myheritage.com. ok, perfect. let's see who i resemble......


1. vanessa marcil...ok, not sure she counts since i only know her from general hospital. and the last time she was on that was when i was in high school. i think we both have a mole and that's it.


2. maria menounos. really? she's a celebrity? 


3. anne hathaway. that's sweet. but i don't have disney eyes...although i did date someone i think may have been a criminal.


4. beyonce. interesting. she's gorgeous. she's a diva. this sounds right.


5. jessica alba. omigosh, thank you. i'm so flattered. really? ok, if you're sure.


6. halle barry. alright, now you're just lying to my face.


not bad, right? i'm liking this. ok let's do another pic. 




annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd...............








7. tommy lee jones.


ok. game over.