Please Cut It Out, 2011

My father passed away last week. I was flying home from my business trip, and when I got home my mom gave me the news. Anytime your mom calls you at 11:45 pm, you know it’s not going to be good.
We’d been preparing as a family for the inevitable, but no amount of preparing does you any good when you actually hear it. I’m still trying to make sense of it all, but I just hope my family can make peace with his death and the cause of it.
My mom, sister and brother all flew to Boston so we could at least gather and give each other a hug in person. In a way, the repairing that happened over Christmas prepared us a little more for this, but it also sort of felt like another family gathering he wasn’t present at.
I’m not sure if the gravity of his death will really be felt until we gather once again this summer to scatter his ashes. It’s been a really rough week, but I’m very grateful to have such amazing friends checking on me every day. My apartment is filled with flowers right now, and also an amazing, chocolate-filled gift basket from Zabar's. I’m so lucky to have a wonderful family and amazing friends to take care of me when I need it.
I really need to have a heart-to-heart with 2011, because it wasn’t listening to me very well when I asked it to please be kind. 2011 is kind of a dick, and while we have a lot of work to do to make it better, it’s getting easier day by day.

Heart to Heart

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to my boss. I love him for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he never holds back how he feels and was able to look me in the eye and tell me exactly how he felt about me. He's honestly one of the most genuine people I've ever met.
When we were hugging goodbye, I went in the for the traditional hug: my left arm under his right arm and my right arm over his left arm. He stopped me halfway and moved my arms the opposite way (my right arm under his left arm, etc.) and said, "No, do it this way - our hearts are closer this way."

SO earnest and sweet. Niagra Falls, Frankie Angel.

Is That a Baby in Your Uterus, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

I have been traveling pretty steadily in the last few weeks for my job, with the longest stint being in Atlanta for just under a week, a Wednesday through Sunday. The Sunday I left, I was actually only going to be home for a few hours with a car service picking me up at 2:30 am the next day, Monday, to head to Dallas. Actually, the car service never showed up and I had to beg a random cab driver at 3:00 am to "step on it" to Newark Airport and I'd tip big (read: show him my boobs for five minutes in a ROW).
So with little sleep, a lot of taking off and landing in the past week, a week before my "moon cycle" and no pooping for a long time, I actually made my flight. Honestly, what's with not being able to number 2 unless I'm at home? Gross, right? Anyway, please picture an atypically larger-than-normal bloated me. If you've never met me, just take whatever mental picture you already have (no doubt this) and add some weight below the belly button.
I arrive at my meeting in Dallas and am greeting the sales reps I haven't seen for a year, and one of them says, "Let me be the first to say 'Congratulations'". Well, I figured she was referring to the recent announcement of the added responsibilities for my job - not a promotion. Don't worry, guys, I'll just do two people's jobs for the price of one. Anyway, I was all ready with my modest response when she cuts me off by asking when I'm due.
When I'm tired, I'm emotional. When I'm NOT a pregnant woman, I'm emotional. I'm a sensitive girl. So, after telling this "sales rep" - if that's really her name - that you're NEVER supposed to ask a girl if she's pregnant unless they say something first; I spent the rest of the meeting trying not to cry. Being pregnant sounds awesome, but being constipated and mistaken for pregnant is the OPPOSITE of awesome.
So, please, don't EVER ask a girl this - EVER. I've since de-bloated and feel amazing with all the running I've been doing, and am very thankful that my self confidence has finally showed up after 27 years of being absentee. Otherwise, I would have developed a major complex over this. That woman's still a bitch, though.

Outlook Not So Good

Next Monday night I set up my first appointment with a therapist. Nothing too dramatic to address on the Internet (I'm fine, I'm FINE, ok?), I've just never talked to a neutral party about any issues before. My work gives eight free sessions: you locate a doctor, get an authorization number and confirm your appointment.
Now, I'm a VERY organized person. I love post-it notes, file folders and label makers. I use my Outlook calendar for work and social appointments, in addition to my cell phone and a datebook I have with me at all times.
After a very stressful week working a gift fair for work, I came into the office with a full voicemail box and one message from my soon-to-be therapist. "Ah, yes, please call us back regarding your February 2nd appointment with [name redacted]." I called back immediately - as a very organized and "together" person would - and they had the nerve to tell me I never phoned them back to confirm my appointment.
I thoroughly explained to them all the steps I had taken to make the date (including my appointment confirmation number!) and it didn't matter to them. "Could you come in at lunchtime?" "I don't take lunches," I said. "How about February 9th? Could you come in at lunch then?" "I don't TAKE lunches!" I said, losing my patience. "Well, we will call you on February 3rd to confirm if [name redacted] can meet with you after work on February 9th." This is where I lose it.
I'm so tired that I just start crying on the phone, "You mean I have to call you to confirm if I MIGHT have an appointment and I had a confirmation number written in two places for my originally-confirmed appointment?"
I'm really hoping my new therapist isn't exercising some radical form of tough-love therapy. Don't you think the last thing you want to do to someone who needs to make an appointment with a professional is make them cry?

Thank God

These Boots are Made for Sulking

I recently bought a pair of boots that I thought only existed in my dreams. I wanted a brown, slouchy, cowboy-esque pair that would last through the seasons and I could walk in them all day without any pain.
I found them last weekend, wore them out on Saturday for a Ladies Who Munch dinner with nothing but supreme comfort. At work today, I paired them with a cute black dress and a blue button up shirt - marveling at my warm calves.

Stepping out of the bathroom at work, my heel caught on the tiles and I stepped forward one inch lower than I had started out. The heel was sliced in half; the cleanest break I'd ever seen from a shoe.

I'm so sad. But, at least I still have my drawer 'o shoes at work to choose a new pair from:

C'mon Get Happy

I need a quick reminder of what makes me happy. Monday was not my best day. After I saw my car's damage, I kicked into full "woe is me" gear. I cried in front of my boss, which is so tacky (and why a woman can't be president!), but in my defense he asked me how I was doing. We all know that is the worst question to ask when you're in a sour mood.

I've snapped out of it, with a little help from running this morning to get the endorphins going. But, here are a few things that have made me happy as of late.

Veggie Corn Dogs for dinner:

Sunday's Pickle Festival (check out the creepy glove action):

Hot Guys. On Bikes. Playing Polo:

This guy's jean cargo shorts:
A ferris wheel in the middle of a downtown New York street:

Re-reading one of my favorite books:

Happy Monday!

What I find this morning when I go to move my car for street cleaning:

What I learned in Cincinnati

I flew home last week for a wedding and had a brief stopover in Cincinnati.

On the short flight from LaGuardia to Ohio, I sat next to a very friendly actor from New York who used to be in the Blue Man Group. We talked about all sorts of things: Sigur Ros, Dr. Wayne Dyer and our parents' and grandparents' relationship when it came to war.

I told him that my grandfather gave my dad a hard time for not enlisting during the Vietnam War and how he thought my dad would miss out on a great deal of camaraderie. Of course our conversation shifted to the current conflict, and if we knew anyone over there, etc. I said I felt so far removed from the war and didn't understand how it affects families whatsoever. That was, until I had a few hours before my connecting flight to Los Angeles.

I was sitting in the terminal - people-watching - as a gate was emptying. I noticed a few families with balloons and signs waiting at the gate exit, which was bizarre to see because that's not generally allowed. As passengers were filing into the terminal, they weren't rushing to their next gate or the baggage claim. They were gathering around the families with the balloons and signs to wait with them. People walking by stopped to watch, and the whole terminal was captivated by who was coming off the plane.

Then, a woman who was milling around the gate screamed at the top of her lungs, "Bobby!" She ran toward a man in an Army uniform and jumped on him, wrapping her legs around him. She couldn't stop screaming and crying, and soon tears were streaming down my face as well. I looked around self-consciously, but it didn't matter because EVERYONE was crying. The terminal erupted in applause, which made me sob more.

Later, another soldier exited to more applause. And then another.

While I still can't fully comprehend what it's like to send a child, husband or brother off to war (whether you agree with it or not); I'm glad I got to witness what it's like to see them come home.