Happy to be Nappy

I just spent the last ten minutes in tears. Sad tears. Happy tears. Tears of amazement. While channel surfing in bed (I've felt sick all day - don't judge) I felt compelled to stop on a program titled "Happy to Be Nappy & Other Stories" on HBO Family. Here is the show description:

Did you know that nobody else in the world is just like you? So what if you look, move or speak different from others? The joy of it is that we all do! So what if your hair isn't straight? Be happy to be nappy! No matter who or what we are - big, little, black, white, a boy or a girl - we're all special and unique. This HBO family special reminds us that it's important to be accepting of all people... especially yourself.

The first story I watch is Patrick's, a precious 10 year old boy who was born blind, but is quick to say that he attends a normal public elementary school and tries to live a normal life. He has a love for golf, and he and his coach use a special noise device that let's him know where the putting hole is. He says, "It usually takes me a lot of tries to finally do it, but when I finally do, Mr. Smith and I get pretty excited." (the way he says pretty is so cute I want to give him a huge hug). He finally sinks the putt and you hear him exclaim, "Yes! Did you hear it? It spun around when it went in!" This is the part where my eyes first start to mist, because you can hear the pride and the thrill in his voice at his accomplishment. The words that follow really start the eye waterfall, "I always try to find the good in everything, because in everything there has to be at least ONE little thing that's good." This is a ten year old boy. Who is blind. Who has more insight and wisdom that I will ever have.

Next is Erin, an 8 year old girl who is a "little person." The entire time she is telling her story, she is straining not to cry, her voice cracking. She admits that sometimes the kids stare at her because they don't understand what she is, and that all she can do is ask them to stop. "But they never stop," she says. Her wish is that everyone was small like her; they wouldn't pick on her because they'd all be alike.

I couldn't find Patrick's or Erin's story on Youtube, but I did find the segment that followed their tales. These kids are so incredibly precious and yet their words break my heart - especially the boy at the end with the black sweatshirt. If he were my son, I would hug him 17 thousands time a day. How can you be a parent in these times? How do you keep yourself from dragging the playground bully by the collar of his shirt and hollering into his mean little face to, "LEAVE MY CHILD ALONE!" It makes me cry for all the lost souls out there who walk the earth feeling misunderstod, unloved, insignificant and that life is simply too hard to keep going. I want to give every single one of them a hug, tell them they are worth so much more than they will ever know, and then tell them about Patrick, who promises that there is always one little thing that's good in everything.

Fat Butts, Britsh Invasions and Lisa Loeb Glasses

I almost didn't go for a walk yesterday. Almost. Sid was out late for a sales meeting (where he won a GPS-I love free stuff!) and I was just snuggling down in my nice comfy bed to watch a girly movie when I did a quick login to my email and Myspace. I was checking out my "Friend Updates" when I saw that Stacey's sister, Nikki, posted pictures from their Florida vacation. Excitedly, I started flipping through the photos and there, like a blazing sign from God himself, was Nikki in her bikini looking stunningly gorgeous. In 60 seconds, I was out of bed, reaching for my sneakers and dragging my fat butt out the door for a 2.5 mile power walk. And when I say power walk, I mean it. I've never walked that fast in my life. In fact, I might as well have been running. So, thank you beautiful Nikki for being my inspiration for the day. And thank you to The Ting Tings for providing a marvelous soundtrack. And thank you Dr. Phil for telling me I'm fat and insulting my willpower. You all motivate me in your own special ways (but I hate you Dr. Phil).

Speaking of The Ting Tings, I've been listening to loads of British pop music lately - not on purpose, I just find my fingers scanning for it on my S-pod, and I'm re-reading the British Shopaholic book series (unless you live in a cave, you've heard of it) AND, of course, there's my recent obsessive urge to travel Europe before I'm an old, grouchy woman. Lately I'm like one of those confused, sad little white boys who desperately tries to convince everyone he's Snoog Dogg. In my own identity crisis, I hear myself saying things like, "Let's watch the telly before we turn in for the night," and "Can you bloody believe it?" and "Oooh, I think I'll buy those posh little knickers." Sid gets the biggest laugh when I channel Kate Nash and exclaim, "Oh my gosh, I cannot be bothered with this!" in my best British accent (which he claims is halariously awful but I think is quite good). Then I laugh even harder when SID - the man who says "purty" and "dudn't it" - tries to train ME on British accents. If you've never heard of Kate Nash, watch the following video and at least scan to 2 minutes and 5 seconds and listen for a bit. Bloody awesome!

I slept like crap last night. Actually, I don't think I slept at all. I had a horrendous headache - the kind that shoots from the top of your head to your eyeballs to your neck (tension, I think?) and I've had mild ear pain for quite sometime. Honestly I don't think I hear as well I used to. I find myself saying annoying things like, "Huh!?" and "Honey, can you speak up!?" Yesterday, Mom told me I needed a hearing test and an eye test and warned me that it's "time to start doing those types of things." Fantastic. I hereby promise to visit the doctor next week about my ears. And, because I know how smashing I'll look in Lisa Loeb glasses, I'll get a vision test as well.

The Phantom of the Opera is Here

Mom left a comment on my blog yesterday that made me laugh out loud and I'm inspired today to tell the little tale of three Texans who invaded New York City. It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was howling outside our hotel window. Something dark and mysterious was brewing....

Just kidding. If you read my blog regularly (of course you do, right?) you know that we stayed near Ridgewood, New Jersey for the first leg of our trip because Sid was attending a training conference in Paramus. Let me enlighten those of you who have visions of pollution, the Mafia, and  tattered billboards pleading to "Stop the Killings in Newark" when you hear the words "New Jersey." Okay, okay, I confess - those were MY visions, and yes, that is an actual billboard in Newark because apparently there are so many murders they need advertisements for peace. Let me tell you, friends, New Jersey is gorgeous. And Ridgewood...well, it's something out of a fantasy. When I think of autumn, I dream of a small Northern town, a breeze so crisp you can slice it like pumpkin pie as it swirls and twirls leaves the size of automobiles past pumpkins on giant wraparound porches,and jolly families wearing sweaters and hats strolling through town sipping cider and laughing merrily. Places like that don't exist, right? Trick question - wrong! That place is Ridgewood New Jersey. Picture your typical Texas town square - instead of the old pharmacy that's been closed for 27 years, imagine The Gap. And in place of the shotty antique shop, envision Ann Taylor and a Starbucks right next door. Even the train station was that of dreams, as the door  transported us back to 1955, Frank Sinatra on the radio, ancient fall decorations careful scattered about, Loraine the train station "Mom" offering us coffee and joining us for a chat on the sofa (yes, they had a sofa - in a train station), dying to hear all about our big city adventures. If you're still convinced New Jersey is just Mafia and murder, well, you couldn't afford to live in this town anyway because a 50-year-old four bedroom house costs a cool million. So there.

Getting "back on task" (as my fourth grade teacher would holler at me 18 times a day), we arrive at our hotel in New Jersey, walk over to the mall (you know the one, where Tony Soprano met up for "shopping trips" with his "associates"), have a bite to eat (Mom gets bowl #2 of French Onion Soup - bowl #1 came from Outback in Plano the night before) and then we get dressed up for our first visit EVER to NEW YORK CITY! After a 45 minute debate about how we actually GET to the city, Mom splurges on a limo-service, and Sonny (no, I didn't make up his name for effect, his name really was Sonny) arrives promptly to deliver us to Phantom of the Opera on Broadway! When I catch my first glimpse of the world's most beloved skyline from the window of a Lincoln Continental I'm speechless.  We arrive early enough for dinner, but without reservations we make our way to Junior's, where Mom eats French Onion Soup Bowl #3, and then we stroll on over to the theater, settle into our seats, and wait for the show to begin without the slightest clue we are about to witness perfection on stage. The show ends and we are speechless. Phantom of the Opera was Insane. Magnificent. Mind-Boggling....and we had just seen it...on BROADWAY!!! Life changing moment, I tell the truth. We capped the evening with a stroll through Times Square and Sonny faithfully delivered us back to the hotel. We would spend the rest of our trip randomly belting out, "Sing for me...my angel of music!!" or "The PhAAAAAAAAntom of the Opera is here...." and "Chrrriistine.........Chriiiiistttiiiiiiiiiine!!!!" And when walking into Rockefeller Center or The Met for the first time, one of us would whisper in a serious detective voice, "Ah, yes. The Phantom of the Opera is HERE" and then naturally, we would laugh and laugh and laugh. We are hillbillys, no doubt about it.

So, friends, that concludes my little tale of three Texans who invaded New York City. Now it's back to my Phantom soundtrack.

Here is our favorite part - and the most fun to imitate!

Hump Day Happenings

Had lots of errands to run this morning. First stop was the UPS Store to ship product to a customer, and guess what establishment happens to be right next door? Starbucks! I recently cut back on my Starbucks expenditures but since it's literally RIGHT next door, it would've been wasteful not to stop in for a latte. And, the baristas were probably wondering if something happened to me, so it would've been rude and inconsiderate not to drop in and say hello. I mean, since it's right next door. Sure enough, when I walk in I hear, "Where have you been?" followed by, "First YOU disappear and then tea-drinking-dude-who-sits-in-the-corner disappeared too!" (makes me wonder what my creative nickname is) So, it was a really good thing I stopped in. Especially since tea-drinking-dude-who-sits-in-the-corner hasn't been making regular appearances either. It was for the good of all mankind that I bought that latte.

I've spent the rest of the day working on manuals for work and a promotional mailer. It wasn't very exciting until I popped some popcorn, plopped down in our comfy leather chair with my laptop, and cranked the volume to the Wicked soundtrack. Now things are really rockin around here. You know, jamming to a Broadway sountrack is what all the cool cats do at their high-powered jobs when they need inspiration. And if you could see me, you would be so totally jealous of how cool I look. Especially when I jump up with a mouthful of popcorn, look Dixie and Bear dead in the eye, and with all the drama I can muster belt out, "Goodness knows, the wicked's lives are lonely. Goodness knows, the wicked die alone. It just shows when you're wicked, you're left totally on your own." I can tell that they are really impressed, and I think they picked up the message of the lyrics and will heed the warning about being naughty, from this day forward. You know, when Bear let out a long heavy sigh, I think he was really saying, "You were born for Broadway, baby." My dogs are very supportive.

Back to work, people. Back to work. (and back to my popcorn...and Wicked...)

UNDER CONSTRUCTION - BEAR WITH ME!!!!

What do you call a mid-life crisis when you’re only 28?

According to my Google research, you call it a Quarter Life Crisis. The “condition” applies to the “period of life immediately following the major changes of adolescence, usually ranging from the ages of 21 – 30” and is “now recognized by many therapists and professionals in the mental health field.” Fantastic. So I need therapy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Put that phone down, friends, and stop dialing the Depression Hotline on my behalf. I’m not depressed. I’m not sad. I’m not unhappy. But I am most definitely suffering from a Quarter Life Crisis. Because we live in a society with a dependency for labels (Black, White, Democrat, Republican, Conservative, Liberal, Southern, American, Overweight, Underweight, Beautiful, Ugly…), I am relieved to have a name for my condition. On the other hand, Quarter Life Crisis doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture - I’m a quarter through my life (um…if I live to be 112…) AND I’m in crisis – that’s enough to throw me into the arms of a panic attack.

I don’t know how I came to be in “crisis.” As I said, I’m not depressed and I know what it means to “count my blessings” of which I have many. And yet, at night, my mind is waging an unjust war on the rest of me and I have no idea what it hopes to gain by my defeat. I thought my mind and I were a team, and yet, every night, the lights go out, the world goes quiet, a false sense of peace fills the room, and bam – the bullets start flying. “You never returned so-and-so’s phone call - you’re not a very good friend. You used to be a size 8 - why did you let yourself go? You have a business degree and you’re not even using it - you wasted your parent’s money. You’ve lived in your house for 3 years and you haven’t even remodeled the master bathroom? - you’re so lazy. You and Sid said you were going to move out of the state for a couple of years and yet, here you are, Native Texan - you’ll regret that someday. You’re two years from 30 and you don’t even have ONE stinking child – you are going to be the oldest parent in the room on the first day of kindergarten.” My mind has a pretty solid war strategy, don’t you think? Kick her in the back of the knee, rub her face in the dirt, break her confidence AND leave her totally sleep deprived. Brilliant!

Despite the not-so-pretty label I’ve gained, I’ve yet to grasp a sense of clarity in all of this. All I know is that in those quiet moments after battle, when my mind is giving itself a high-five for breaking down her opponent, and I’m laying face down in the dirt, I have the most powerful feeling that I’m not doing enough with my life. At 16, I dreamed of being a journalist, a novelist, a psychiatrist, and it never ONCE occurred to me that I couldn’t conquer anything I ever wanted. I’ll never forget a conversation I shared with Dr. Robinson, the brilliant man who specialized in reconstructive dentistry who was designing my two fake teeth for an upcoming dental implant surgery. Mom and I spent lots of time in his office during my various appointments (he totally had a crush on my Mom and was devastated that she was married), and we all became buddies. One afternoon, he very apologetically explained that he was unlikely to meet my Homecoming Dance deadline, that not only would my braces not be off in time but the lovely false teeth wouldn't be ready either. After my five minute rebuttal about how I understood he was a very busy man, that I would discuss my braces with my Orthodontist to ensure he was still aware of our timeline agreement, but it was simply unacceptable for my Homecoming deadline to be ignored. He responded with a hearty laugh and a sentence I’ll never forget, “Sweetheart, if you’re not CEO of a Fortune 500 company someday, I’ll be shocked.” At the time, I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a compliment or an insult. 12 years and a business degree later, I'm flattered for that strong, stubborn teen girl, yet I'm wondering, where IS she? The fearless one who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it? I lost sight of that girl in college, of all places!, when I was completely, hopelessly clueless about choosing a major. My thoughts at that time went something like this: I'll be a vet! - oh, wait, chemistry, biology, anatomy- I'm not smart enough. I'll be a psychiatrist - no, that'll test my faith too much, mingling with science like that. I'll be a journalist! - no, those kids have the hardest time finding a job after graduation. I'll get a business degree - that's generic, practical and safe. Truth is, I was SCARED. Of what, I'm not exactly sure, but I think it frightened me most that I could no longer channel that 16 year old warrior, and I wasn't so sure of myself anymore.

I know she's still in there somewhere, and I know I can still conquer my piece of the world, if I knew what piece I wanted, only now there is this incredible sense of urgency, an overwhelming sensation that time is running out, and a fear that never existed at age 16. We won’t be childfree forever. We won’t be free to make career changes without consequence forever. We won’t be able to move away for the sole purpose of adventure forever. While I can see the window of opportunity is still open, will it slam shut tomorrow? ARE we running out of time? Will I ever write a book? Will I ever get to live in Manhattan? Will I ever see Paris in the Spring? Will I ever live up to that 16 year old girl's expectations for her life?

I start to ponder…maybe my only life legacy will be this beautiful love story Sid and I share. When I imagine our children toasting to us on our 50th wedding anniversary, a legacy of love seems more than enough for one lifetime. And yet, what will I do with those 44 years leading up to that celebration? I want my children to know that, in those 50 years of marriage, their parents saw the world, loved ferociously, were charitable, loved their work, were Godly, respected the Earth, lived many places, treasured many friends, and lived life on the edge and to the absolute fullest.

Hmmm…maybe I’m on to something. But where do I go from here?

The Most Important Question of All Time

This post goes out to all my homeys who've pondered the question, "What is Leigh's favorite TV show?" Well, my homeys, ponder no more! My favorite TV show is 30 Rock. It's the most brilliant show of all time and I totally have a girl crush on Tina Fey. I saw a promo for it this afternoon and the season premiere is OCTOBER 30 (can you tell by the bold font and the underline that I'm really angry?) Why do we have to wait the longest for the best shows? Sigh. But I guess it's nothing a little YouTube action can't cure, right? So I start looking for clips, and I see my favorite characters, and I laugh outloud dozens of times, and then then giant crocodile tears start flowing down my face because I still have to wait 2 freakin months for the premiere. (Note: I didn't really cry. That was a joke. Not a funny joke, but still...a joke).

So, in honor of my favorite show, I offer the following video. If you don't laugh outloud at least 10 times, then you're not funny. And you're not my friend. And I don't like you.

Tot Rejection!

I talked to my brother yesterday on the phone. The doctor recently discovered that baby Ryan has a milk allergy. Randy and Cindy had worried that Ryan wouldn't like the new formula he has to drink (the doctor warned that it was pretty nasty) but Randy said he didn't seem to mind it. I giggled and said I had pictured Ryan pulling the Sonic Tot Rejection move, "Rejected! Don't you bring that weak, nasty baby formula action!" and because Randy and I share the same sense of humor (I guess it's a brother/sister thing), he got the joke. For those of you who are reading and asking outloud, "Huh?" see the video below. Randy and I are obsessed with the same movies (every now and then, he'll send me a random text, "Old School, TBS, 10pm....or "Creepy Today show singer kid, performing on CBS, watch it now). We also share a love of Sonic commercials, and Tot Rejection is a favorite, so the mere mention of it leads to this:

Randy: Have you seen the NEW Sonic commericals? They're pretty funny.
Me: No, I'll have to Youtube 'em.
Randy: I can't remember what the commmericals are about, though...
Me: Well, let's see. They have the new Fried Ice Cream Blast...
Randy: Yeah, that's one of 'em!
Me: Hmmm...and they have those new Angus burgers....
Randy: Yep - that's what the other one is about. Youtube 'em.

My moment of pride for a mystery solved was short-lived when it occurred to me how very very sad it is that I have the Sonic menu memorized, down to their new product offerings. We don't even eat there very often, but we do spend quite a chunk of change on drinks - love that ice!

Now for the videos. First, mute the Playlist at the bottom of the page.

For you unenlightened ones, here is the infamous commerical:


And for icing on the cake, here is Creepy-Today-Show-Singer-Kid (the only clip I could find was from The Soup). Lots of laughs this Christmas over his performance (Mom viciously defended this kid, saying how proud his mother must be....yeah right!)

Back in Business!

My internet starting working last night. I have no idea how it happened, so it must be a miracle. Sid is out of town, so I stayed up really late watching movies. I felt a burst of inspiration to write, so I turned on the computer (I'm more of a typer than a writer). I had a random thought to check for any unsecured networks I could connect to, and sure enough, there was one with a pretty good signal and voila - I was coasting the internet highway. I googled a few things I suspected were wrong with my Dell from Hell, ran a free registry cleaner (which turned out NOT to be free - it only corrected the first 5 errors) and did a few little tweaks per some forum discussions and...problem solved! So, after 6 weeks, I'm back in business, baby! Oh, and I didn't write a single thing. So much for the burst of inspiration.

Tuesday Blues

I know you all think my daily trips to Starbucks stem from an unhealthy espresso addiction. It IS true that I love my lattes (okay, I admit, I’m addicted to my lattes), and I also adore my Starbucks store. The baristas know my name (cue the “Cheers” theme song), I almost always get my favorite orange chair in the corner, and when you work from home, it’s refreshing to work away from the house now and then. Nevertheless, my recent Starbucks voyages stem from my Dell’s (the laptop I’ve loathed from the day it arrived on my doorstep) inability to connect to the internet via my home network. I was able to connect my Toshiba laptop – which was retired thanks to a broken screen (don’t ask) to the TV, so I had internet at home for several weeks. It was quite fun, actually, to view everything on a 32 inch flat panel! But (sigh) all good things end. The Toshiba caught a deadly disease and is off the team for good and I’m stuck with my enemy – a Dell Inspiron piece of crap. According to Dell, it’s the router. According to the router manufacturer, it’s software related. According to Geek Squad, it’s Dell. In other words – no one wants to be involved with my problem. All attempts at self-medication have failed and I am truly stumped and nearly insane. And I’m starting to get tired of Starbucks (gasp!)

Sid and I researched our December NYC trip last night. No, I researched while Sid was an obnoxious distraction who I nearly kicked off the bed. Every time I said “Expedia” he’d holler, “Dot Com!” After an hour, I assumed he was over it and let the word slip off my tongue and he nearly scared me to death when he shouted, “Dot Com” at the top of his lungs. I can’t judge - if Sid was MY annoyance for the evening, I filled that role for Bear and Dixie. For some reason, Bear hates my dancing (it couldn’t possibly be my lack of ability), so when “Shut Up and Let Me Go” by The Ting Tings came on (see my Playlist if you’ve never heard it – awesome!) I jumped up and started shaking my booty like my life depended on it. He cannot resist being in the middle of the action so he jumped up, put his paws on my shoulders, and danced with me, all the while letting out annoyed sighs and growls of irritation. After a few minutes, he darted out of the bedroom to escape and I turned my eyes on Dixie, who was cautiously watching us the entire time. I got down on my knees, grabbed her little paws, and started dancing with her but she was not amused. Party poopers! I’m sorry, but if you don’t get the urge to dance when you hear that song, there is something wrong with you.

Are you EVER gonna have kids??

I finished Baby Proof and just this very instant, I realized that the author is Emily GIFFIN, not Griffin. After reading three of her four books, I find this a tad unsettling. What else do I have wrong? Is Harry Potter really Larry Potter? Is Edward Cullen really Edwin? Is Jane Austen really Jan?

(Sidenote: Remember Crazy-Eyes from a previous post? I'm at Starbucks now and she's back. My headphones don't register with her as my polite "I really don't want to make small talk" signal. She talks to me even though it's obvious I can't hear her, because I have to remove my headphones and kindly ask her to repeat her questions. When she's not talking to me, she's staring at me. Maybe she's a lesbian. Maybe she's lonely. Maybe she's a serial killer. Whatever she is, my Starbucks time is sacred and I do not like to be disturbed)

Anyway, I tried reading Baby Proof on the cruise in March, but after one chapter, I didn't feel hooked so I tossed it back into my suitcase and it was forgotten until Marie urged me to give it another chance. She was right, of course; I loved it. I was, however, quite disturbed by it and I can't really explain why without giving too much away. Claudia, a successful Manhattan editor, has never wanted children. Strangely, I immediately relate to this woman. Not because I don't want children, but because I don't want children right NOW. I know how frustrating it is to field questions from relatives, friends, strangers about how many kids we have, when, why don't we have kids yet, do we even want kids? I'm 28, but they act like I'm 88. It creates unnecessary pressure and confusion and I'm certain I wouldn't be so depressed to be 2 years from 30 if I didn't have all of their pressure hanging around my neck like a noose. I wonder, "Maybe I DON'T want kids if I'm still not ready," but I deep down I know that's not true. Sid reminds me all the time that we are young, we are not bound by society's rules, and that even if we didn't want kids, it would be OUR choice...

...which brings me back to the story. Claudia meets Ben and they immediately connect. When she confesses her stand on motherhood, they are relieved to find they share common ground. They fall in love, and feel secure knowing they have found their soulmate. I see Sid and myself in this couple - best friends, deeply in love, adventurous, unbreakable, simple and complex all at the same time. So I am devastated when, years into their near perfect relationship, Ben changes his mind about fatherhood ( SOOO not fair, Ben) and the rest is a story of what happens when you reach an impasse with the person you love most in the world. I am disturbed that this perfect couple isn't so perfect afterall (but what couple is?). I'm shocked at how easily their bond is broken. I am deeply saddened at the mere thought that something could tear my Sid away from me. It's a story of a perfect marriage broken by the choice NOT to have children, unhappy marriages staying together FOR the children, and marriages threatened when having a child just isn't possible. My hope is restored when this little story wraps up exactly as it should in the end. And believe it or not, I didn't give away much more than what is freely available on the back of the book.

Wow. I didn't mean to ramble on that long about my book.

Weight loss update: I lost three pounds last week, for a total of 18 pounds! Go me!

I need a break...

I've decided I need a break from period romance novels after pestering Sid, "If I were in danger, would YOU gather an army of 1000 knights to rescue me? Could you save me from forest thieves by killing three men at once with a sword and dagger? I didn't think so."

Yes, it was time for a little reminder of my own modern, everyday romance. This is 2008, not 1572. We live in Texas, not England. And I'm married to a brilliant, beautiful man who wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who threatened my life, he'd just use fists or a pistol, not a sword, and he wear khakis and polo shirts, not heavy armor.

Thursday Already?

Ahhh, it's Thursday. This week flew by. I finished Book 4 of Kerrelyn Spark's vampire series and Book 5 won't be out until October. The time has finally come for me to give my beautiful vampires a tiny rest, so I'm going back to my beloved Montgomery series by Jude Devereaux, the next book in the saga set 70 years after the last. Vampires, Knights - either way, I'm one happy little reader. Now if Sparks and Devereaux could join forces, transforming the Montgomery brothers into vampires...that would make my day.

I had lunch with Amanda yesterday at our usual spot - Cafe Express. She made me wait two weeks to see her. Something about a little trip to Port Angeles, WA last week kept her away. Leigh...Washington. What would you pick? Me, I thought so.

About two months ago, Amanda, Colin, Sid and I sat around a table at Cheesecake Factory, chowing down on a delicious slab of cheesecake and discussing a possible trip to NYC. Sid and I were blessed with two trips to the Big Apple last year - once in October (where Mom joined us for a few days!) and again over Christmas. I'm starting to believe that during one of our trips, we were kidnapped, brains reprogrammed, memories erased of our the capture and then released in Central Park with an intense magnetic pull to remain in NYC (I've been reading WAY too many vampires-in-NY books) because we both crave the city and have even had several silly converstations about uprooting from Tejas to Manhattan. Unfortunately, we could never afford the lifestyle we would require as Manhattan residents - Park Avenue townhouse, personal driver on payroll, dinner out every night, accounts at Bloomingdales, Barneys and Bergdorf. Alas, we're stuck with our ultra sophisticated life in Small Town, Texas - population 2500. I digress.

While I know the four of us were very serious about taking the trip, it was way to early to draw up a contract and sign it in blood. But, a few days ago, we made it official! I immediately went to my computer and found the videos I made last year after our Christmas trip. Want to see? I'm only linking one on my blog, but if you're clever, you can find the others (for my not-so-clever friends, just click on my user name to find all my videos). Watching them, I get even more excited to go back! And this time with friends! What could be better? Maybe this time, I won't fall down the stairs at the Broadway show. I'll have three people instead of one to keep me from being a clutz!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JMqsl0yZaM

I also found an old slideshow for our fall trip. I can't even describe the feeling the three of us felt when we caught our first glimpse of the NYC skyline. We were speechless. That first night in the city, seeing Phantom of the Opera...ON BROADWAY...with two of my favorite people...one of the best nights ever.

Language of Love is...German?

Sid and I have yet to reach an agreement regarding the language choice for our new goal. My choice? Italian, or as a second choice, French. Both would be practical when traveling Europe (one day...sigh) and Italian, afterall, is the language of love. Sid's choice? German. That's right - German.

Could there be a more useless language? Actually, yes. I conducted some research on Sid's lovely language choice and was surprised to learn that German is actually the most widely spoken language in Europe, and is the official language of Austria, Switzerland, Luxembourg, and Liechtenstein. It is also the native language of a large segment of the population in northern Italy, eastern Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, eastern France, parts of Poland, the Czech Republic, Russia, and Romania, and others. Oops! My bad!

So for the sake of MY choices, I offer the following demonstration:

English: You are so beautiful and I love you very much.
In French: Vous êtes si beau et je t'aime beaucoup.
In Italian: Siete così bello e ti amo molto.
For the German translation, let's use more imagination. Sid grabs my hand as we stroll along a busy street. I'm chilly, so he drapes his jacket over my shoulders and kisses me softly. His lips move to my ear and he whispers, "Sie sind und ich liebe dich sehr viel so schön." I beg your pardon? Did you just spit in my ear AND call me a dirty name? (slaps Sid across face)

See my point? For Sid's safety, German is simply not an option. I win!

Weekend Write-Up

We had a fantabulous weekend. Friday night, we made a stop by our favorite restaurant, La Hacienda Ranch, for the world's best fajitas. Naturally, a trip to Starbucks followed, but more for the internet than our coffee obsession. After finishing up our work stuff, we decided to check out what was playing at Angelika, and a movie caught my eye - Tell No One. There was only a tiny blurb about the plot, but my somehow my brain remembered the title from a book I read 4 or 5 years ago. I never cease to be amazed by the power of the human brain - how I could completely forget about this book, yet the mere sight of the title, and the plot suddenly unravels in my mind (like hearing a song for the first time in ten years and remembering every verse). We rushed to Legacy Center, purchased our tickets, and settled into our comfy seats. The movie, a French adaptation of the book, was - obviously - set in France with French dialogue. This added a whole other element to the spectatuclar film - the beautiful language set against the dark, murderous plot. Brilliant! We both loved it. Unfortunately, my Europe craving is now worse than ever. However, Sid and I are now inspired to learn another language together before venturing to Europe. Italian, perhaps?

Satuday, after a lazy, uneventful day, we hit the town again for our belated anniversary celebration. We headed to Kobe Steaks in Addison, thinking that surely at 6:30, we wouldn't have to wait too long for a table (I hate restaurants that don't take reservations - arg!). When the hostess casually mentions the two hour wait, I choked, then laughed, then turned to walk out the door. Two hours? Really? Seriously? At 6:30? Whatever. We headed to Pappadeaux and had the most spectacular meal of steak, lobster and praline cheesecake. The service was outstanding, the food flawless, and the company - perfection!

I snagged a reservation at Nobu for Thursday night (thank you, Restaurant Week!) so we'll be celebrating once more (Sid and I tend to use special occasions as an excuse to celebrate over and over!). If you live in Dallas and haven't experienced Restaurant Week, you're missing out! $35 a person gets you a three course dinner at participating restaurants, so its the perfect opportunity to try out the hippest, fanciest, most expensive places without draining the bank account. And, it's for charity, so guilt trip - be gone!

Health Update: It's been 8 weeks, and I've lost 15 pounds. Yah me! I will admit that I'm not walking 5 days a week. It's too dang hot! I walked three nights last week, so I haven't fallen totally off the bandwagon. This week, however, my goal is back up to five days per week.

Date Night

Stacey picked me up promptly at 6:30 last night for our dinner date. She did not, however, knock on the door like the lady I am deserves so that Sid could give her my curfew and demand I'm home on time or else. I guess that means it wasn't a REAL date.

We decided to try RA in Legacy Center for the first time. I giggled as we inconspicuously searched for the entrance (somehow we did not see the front door), and sighed with relief when a lady opened the “secret passage” to the side entrance– a gate in the railing around the porch. Thank goodness, because I probably would’ve climbed over the railing if it hadn’t been for Miss Show-Off-Because-I-Have-Magical-Powers-And-Can-See-Gates-That-Are-Invisible. The restaurant was filled to the brim with the typical 30-something Plano crowd and the wait was well over an hour for a table. Luckily, we snagged a spot at the sushi bar in five minutes, plopping our hineys down on a bench the instant a snotty lady, who was only sitting because she was too lazy to stand, got up. I felt a jolt of satisfation when I heard her murmer, "Uh Oh," just as we settled in, because apparently she only abandoned fort to hug a friend and didn't realize a mob of patrons had been eyeing her spot. The food was scrumptious. I'm still clumsy with my chopsticks, but my date didn't seem to mind, nor did the lady beside me who took at least three attempts to pick up her tuna sashimi. Would it really be so revolting to pick up the stupid fish with your fingers? Really?

We were finally able to discuss Breaking Dawn, the book we've waited ages for, and we topped off the night with coffee from Starbucks and more Breaking Dawn chatter, among other topics. Stacey had me home by 10, but she did not walk me to the door OR give me a goodnight kiss.

Before Sunrise

A high school flashback struck me yesterday – the kind where I’m laughing, but suddenly feel compelled to cry. The memory stayed huddled in a dusty corner of my brain at first, as I randomly composed an email to a favorite friend from back in the day, John. It stayed hidden even as I read John’s reply. After a hard day at the office (translation: a heavenly day in a cozy chair at my favorite Starbucks), I turned on the TV, flipped to HBO looking for a good movie, and found Before Sunrise with Ethan Hawke.

Before Sunrise! Of course! I’m transported back to sophomore year of high school (hands down, my favorite of four years), in my cozy living room. I’m sitting next to Kerry on the sofa (At 16, I was sure God sent this boy from Heaven just for me), and I’m surrounded by the usual cast of characters in my life. There’s Stef, of course, my best friend, and John (same John from my email), her other half, who was probably cracking us all up somehow. And Lisa, who that very evening claimed she was only wanting friendship with Manny (I vividly remember singing George Strait’s song to her to ease her guilt “You can’t make a heart love somebody….”) but, only weeks later, she would change her mind and love Manny back and adorable Manny (I'm remembering chants of "Manny Manny shake your fanny" at baseball games..wow, that was probably embarassing for Manny!), who I'm sure never took his eyes off Lisa once to watch the movie. And Brandon, who later that very night would storm out of my house after I punched him in the face…he’s there too! (during a play boxing match, I accidentally slipped and hit his face…oops! He was only pretending to be mad…at first…until none of us went after him to make sure he was okay! Oops again!). On a normal Friday night, Jean, my other bestest friend, would have been among us, but Mr. Memory doesn’t see her this particular night.

So, back to Before Sunrise- the dreadful, mind-numbing, someone-shoot-me-now movie we were gathered to watch. I smiled as I remembered feeling actual pain from boredom. If we’d had tomatoes, surely we would’ve chunked them at the TV that night. Grunts, giggles, sighs…who rented this movie....will it ever end??......

The funny revelation that made me laugh outloud? I discovered that Before Sunrise is actually a fantastic movie, overflowing with beautiful, meaningful dialogue between two searching souls discovering one another. I laughed at those teenagers, so long ago, hating this grown up movie but paying more attention to the faces in the room than on the screen.

The part that made me want to cry? The movie DID end. And so did the night. And life just kept on moving along…

**For the record, I love all of my dear friends in the first photo, but since they weren't with us for Before Sunrise, they don't get a name label! (which I'm sure they actually appreciate!)

"Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence" (Robert Fripp)

Blog, be silent no more!

If you've noticed music floating out of your speakers while viewing my blog, it's because I added a playlist! It contains my favorite songs of the moment from my favorite artists. It's set to shuffle, so you'll hear a different song each time. Or, you can select a song you want to hear. I'm sure you'll find my taste in music impeccable, so you're sure to love each and every selection. (ha!) Sure, some of you may find this incredibly annoying, but it's my blog so suck it up or turn off your speakers. I am a musicaholic, so it's about time my blog reflected more of me. Feel free to share your love, hate, or indifference! I also love recommendations!

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~Berthold Auerbach

Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness. ~Maya Angelou, Gather Together in My Name

If I were to begin life again, I would devote it to music. It is the only cheap and unpunished rapture upon earth. ~Sydney Smith

Happy Anniversary to Us!

Six years ago, I married my best friend and soulmate. Just when I think I couldn't possibly love Sid any more than I already do...well, somehow I do.

Mom described us perfectly the other day: inseparable. I don't think she meant it ENTIRELY as a compliment (only because deep down parents wish for their daughters to be independent) but a compliment nonetheless because she knows how utterly happy we are (it doesn't hurt that my parents adore Sid). She also knows I am the independent, stubborn, strong-willed girl she raised me to be, and I married my perfect match - a man just as independent, stubborn and strong-willed as I am! We are best friends, totally in love with each other, and yet we challenge each other too.

I thank God every day for Sid.

Breaking Dawn Party Recap...It's official, I'm a dork!

Amanda and I survived the Breaking Dawn release party, barely. After dinner at La Ha, we headed to Barnes and Noble with 30 minutes to spare before the “party” started. We debated - dessert at Cheesecake Factory? Wander around like mall rats? Get the party started? We made our choice, and we would pay for it later. We strolled through the Barnes and Noble doors…

Map in hand, we wandered the store, checking out the various activities they had planned. The most intriguing? “Edward’s Icy Kisses.” I envisioned a lifesize cutout of our beloved vampire hero, and women standing in line to take a picture with it. Reality? A table full of Hershey Kisses. Really, party planner? Really? You advertise kisses from Edward and all you have to offer is a stupid Hershey Kiss? If I was a vampire, I would’ve bitten someone.

Next stop - crossword puzzle. We snorted that surely a puzzle intended for 13-year-olds would be no match for our intelligence, after all, we are Aggies. We miraculously found a table, and Amanda began reading clues outloud. I would smugly spout off the answer, and then Amanda would laugh, “Nope! Too many letters!,” followed by another eruption of giggles. We had to quit with two clues left, because the genius responsible for creating the puzzle put in too many letters. At least that’s OUR story.

A quick glance at the clock revealed our fate – another hour and half left to endure before the book would be ours. More giggles. Afraid to lose our table, we people watched. There were mothers and daughters bonding over the experience, and Dad’s embarrassingly tagging along. There were precious teenagers, decked out in homemade t-shirts, having the time of their lives. There were strange men wearing capes, and women with red contact lenses. There were women our age, huddled in deep book club discussions and women much, much older doing the same.

By the end of the night, we were delirious and so ready to get our hands on the book. About every five minutes while standing in line, one of us would start giggling uncontrollably, sometimes sparked by a silly overheard conversation by passing teenagers, and other times, the mere sight of something silly (and believe me, LOTS of silly sights to see). We finally got our books and headed home. I stayed up until 3 reading and have been reading all afternoon. It was well worth the wait – so far, it’s like, totally the best book I ever read (said in sassy teenager voice).

P.S. I updated the slide show on my previous post!

Happy Breaking Dawn Day!

The day is here! You can't begin to imagine how thrilled I am that in 11 hours, I will hold the book in my very own hands and the fate of my beloved Edward and his Bella will be revealed to me. If you still haven't read the series, what are you waiting for? Take my friend Marie for example. She laughed, she snickered, she ridiculed me for my obsession. I mailed her a copy of the book, and she read it in less than 24 hours and now she loves Edward (almost) as much as I do.

Amanda and I are attending the Breaking Dawn midnight release party at Barnes and Noble tonight. (We'll miss you, Stacey!). I retrieved our wrist bands this morning, along with 200 other Twilight fans. The excitement was so thick I could have sliced right through it as girls of ALL ages giggled and chattered about the series. Tonight, I will be dressed in my "I Love Edward" t-shirt and flipflops, product of my own creative craftiness, as I pretend I'm 13 again.

Don't understand it? I'll simply admit that, yes, I really am that obsessed with this series. First, Stephenie Meyers writes with music in her head, and she reveals that the power of a song and the emotions that bubble to the surface through the lryics help her to humanize her characters because she can actually feel what they feel, through song. You can find her playlists on her website and this alone made the book so much more remarkable for me, because I too am obsessed with music. These characters are brought to life in the words of the book, but even more so through the music. Second, I love giving in to good plain fun of the phenomenon that is Twilight. Sure, I could pretend to be normal. I could wait until tomorrow morning, buy my copy at Walmart, and never speak a word of it to another soul. But where in the world is the fun in that? Life is too short to take myself that seriously. Life is too short not to giggle with my girlfriends, and tease each other about our passion for Edward. Life is too short to repress the silly girl I am.

As if you care, I'll post some pictures tomorrow to prove that I'm not the only dork in Dallas. For now, I leave you with the beginnings of a slide show, including a photo of my Edward (if you live under a rock, it's Robert Pattinson who will play Edward in the movie out in December).