Goldie's Support

She's very good company while I work on a board presentation in the kitchen!

Shameless promotion wrapped into a funny story

I have admittedly not been as diligent about posting up here as I once was. One of the reasons causes is that I head up the social media efforts at work, so while I am blogging and Facebooking and Tweeting an awful lot, half the time it's not personally related.

And while this post is for my work blog, and while it does have some shameless promotion of association membership, the whole experience was pretty funny.

The post is about Mike getting stung by a bee. Well, really, the post is about using an NASE benefit to help with the bee sting. But you all will be more interested in the bee sting than the solution.

Left out of the post were my continuous feelings for three days of, "really? really?". Here's the thing -- I never doubted for a second that he was in a lot of discomfort, that the leg and foot were swollen, that it was giving him the "foot is asleep" sensation, and that all of that was generally consuming him.

The "really?" came in when you stepped back and thought, only my husband would get stung by a bee just walking out of the house and have an allergic reaction to it. How does this stuff happen to him? When was the last time YOU were stung by a bee? Didn't we all learn when we were 10 that if you left them alone, they'd leave you alone?

But I truly believe he was minding his own business and this bee had an ax to grind and *BAM* it just stung him! Then it swelled up and it hurt and it was the one in a thousand case where the site of the sting actually got a skin infection and .... come on, you gotta shake your head.

Lest you think I'm ragging on him here (I'm trying to make clear that I'm not -- poor guy really was in pain, and none of it was his fault), I will give him props for all the activity he did Saturday. When we went to bed Friday night, I wrote his participation in our planned bike ride and 5k off. Thought there was no way he'd do it. But he did!

And that attitude helped the bee sting, too, I think! All the blood flowing helped with the pressure of the swelling and then add in the antibiotics and he was on his way to recovery.

From a bee sting, people.

I'm a bad thief

I would be a very, very bad identity thief. Because evidently, I can't even hack into my own credit card account.

It started last night when I received an updated expiration date joint American Express credit card. I activated it, and destroyed the old card.

Only I didn't destroy the old card. I destroyed my personal American Express card. You know, the one in perfect working order, without an expired date drawing near? Yah, that one.

No big deal, I'll just call and get a new one. So that's what I did tonight. I pulled out an old statement so I'd have the account number and I called AmEx.

And I proceeded to fail about 6 security questions ... about myself.

I didn't know my PIN. (Although I want to dispute that. I think I had it right and she typed it in wrong.)

She asked for a previous address ZIP code and I gave her Sunset Drive, my last address at college, and my two most recent work ZIP codes, and she said, "no go."

Then she wanted to know how long I'd owned my home for. Easy!

But she said I was wrong.

At this point I enlisted Mike's help, but evidently he doesn't know me any better.

So she gave me another number to call, which I did, entered some numbers on the phone (SEE, I TOLD YOU I knew my PIN!!), and got connected to another person to order a replacement card.

This guy was much more willing to help. Evidently I aced his questions. He also asked me a very important one, in my book, which was, "Was your card lost, stolen, or damaged?"

"Damaged!" I didn't know that was an option with the first lady.

"Water damage, is the magnetic strip scratched, what's the problem with it?"

"Um, well, I sort of cut it up."

"Cut it up?"

Then I told him what happened, and he laughed and said, "Miss (ok, ok, he said "ma'am" but I'd rather not tell you that), that happens waaaay more than you'd think."

So now a new card is on it's way.

Can you spot me in the meantime?

Going, going, and still going!

What a week! It had everything: family, exercise, work, more family, more exercise, lots of visiting and lots of friends.

I was in Salem, Massachusetts, and Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on Monday, then flew to Philly and stayed there until Thursday night. I was in Philly for a conference, manning an exhibit booth for work. Fortunately, there were three others from work there, so I wasn't tied to the booth the entire time. Instead, I got to have dinner with Aunt Jo and Aunt Rita on Tuesday and to the Please Touch Museum and dinner with Patricia and Samantha on Wednesday!

I can't believe I didn't bring my camera, especially for some shots of Samantha at the museum. Of course, Patricia did, so I'm not-so-patiently waiting for her to post them on Facebook. Hint. Hint.

A quick day at the office on Friday, and then lots of entertaining for the weekend!

Some more of my Texas work/ friends came into town and we had a carbo-loading dinner on Friday at my place. Carbo-loading because we rented bikes on Saturday morning and biked from Old Town to Mount Vernon, walked around Mount Vernon for a few hours, and then biked back to Old Town.

And because that wasn't quite exhausting enough, we ran in the Crystal City Twilight 5k on Saturday night.

The run started at 8 p.m., and it had begun to rain around 7:40 p.m. Just some drizzle for most of the race, but on the home stretch of the last mile, the thunder and lightning picked up. It really was quite amazing to see, because by that time it was getting really dark out.

Soaked from head to toe in sweat and rain drops, we all gathered back at the Ritz for post-race cocktails and snacks! (yes, I did say "the Ritz." Jealous? Then get friends like the Halls. :-) )

Needless to say, I think I was asleep last night before my head hit the pillow.

Deer on the golf course

Mike and I went to Old Hickory yesterday afternoon for a 3 p.m. tee time. (I wanted to sleep in Saturday morning!)

It was the best day ever for an afternoon tee time -- it was 81 degrees, slight breeze, just gorgeous.

So gorgeous, even the deer wanted to be out in it. See these three? They were on the 17th hole, and there were actually NINE of them! Just walking around! We didn't have a group playing behind us, so we sat for about 10 minutes and just watched them.

Deer crossing

The botton of this photo is our golf cart plexi-glass. Check out how close he is!!

Can you count all nine?

The start

These two were the first deer we saw -- on the drive between the 4th and 5th holes. Again, check out how close to our cart!

Mike Brings Home the... Fish?

Invotex annual fishing trip today! Mike brought home two filets of rockfish. On 15 minutes notice, this shaped up. Not bad if I do say so myself!

Tubing

Eeeek! I don't like this habit of only posting once a week! I'll try to get out of it!

This past seven days was an extremely busy one. If you're following me on Twitter or Facebook, you know that I was in Southern California to present a college scholarship for work. (and if you're not following me, well, why not?)

I was actively traveling for 21 hours, and I was in LA for 22 hours, including sleeping. Part of the long travel was that I flew in and out of Dulles (never again. I don't care that it's cheaper. I don't bill by the hour, but I'm positive the extra three - four hours that Dulles adds to a trip is NOT worth my time). I had a direct flight out to LA, but then connected on the way back, and of course had a delay on the last flight.

But even with all that, LA was a blast. I mean, when you arrive with a big check (literally), people tend to be really, really nice to you. We had a lllllllooooooonnnnnnggggg photo shoot with the scholarship recipient and his family. So long that an impromptu block party broke out while we were shooting in the street!

Not much recovery and I was off to tubing on the James River in Southern Virginia yesterday. Went with Kristin of the Sidley vacation club, and a bunch of her friends. There were six of us girls in all. It was a complete blast. A 3 hour drive down, with chatting all the way. Six girls, three coolers filled with yummy food and snacks and drinks (pina colada's anyone? No? How about a white cosmo?), floating lazily down a river for 3 more hours. Kinda takes you out of reality for a bit.

Some clean up and dinner in Charlottesville near UVa. then the long drive home. Not quite as chatty as on the way down, but we hung in there.

I've been scrambling today to get ready for more travel. These next two weeks are crazy ones. Off to Dallas tonight, Eugene, Oregon, tomorrow, then Chicago on Tuesday. I get back home Wednesday night, and fly back out on Sunday to Boston.

I'll try to squeeze some posts in there... !!!

July 4th

Spent the 4th of July with Terry, Sara and my nieces and nephews. They were on their annual trip north, and were in Fulton, MD, spending two days with Sara's aunt.

We went up, brought Goldie, and had an incredible time.

Except for breaking two of the kids. But more on that later.

Here's Elizabeth, who's growing up gorgeous. A bit of drama, but what 7 year old isn't?

And Patrick, the jokster, trying desperately to get Goldie to play with him.

Sara's aunt has a tremendous back yard, lots of trees, a creek, a gazebo... add that to the 81 degree, no humidity weather, and it was just heaven. Goldie didn't complain much.

Late in the afternoon, we decided to play kickball. Teams kept changing, mostly because Francis wanted to always be kicking, and wasn't so much interested in playing the field.

Notice the size of the ball. It's about half the size of the kids. The first time Elizabeth was up to kick, Mike got the ball and threw it (underhand!) to get her out at first. It rams into her side, knocks her flat out. Lots of tears, and we were down one player.

Another time Francis was up to kick, Mike again caught the ball, and threw it to get him out. It hits him in the stomach and Francis rolls over the front of the ball, letting his chin take the blunt of the fall onto the ground.

There was the start of tears on that one, but with shouts from Mike and Terry to shake it off, he was back in the game.

Not for long. After that fall, we created a new rule that Mike wasn't allowed to throw the ball to get the kids out. He had to tap them. So Francis kicks, Mike gets the ball, and they are both running to second. Francis decides to slide into second...

... and breaks his toe.

Evidently, kids are kinda breakable.

After an exhausting day outside, and the biggest meal ever, courtesy of the Amish Market, we were zonked.

While we laid watching a movie, Elizabeth was hard at work on a loose tooth. She was sure she could get it to come out.

[Warning: this next picture, if looked at closely, is kinda graphic.]

And, indeed, she broke it loose after about an hour of wiggling it, just a little bit. She was really proud of herself, and was formulating the plan for the evening.

Me: "What do you think the Tooth Fairy is going to bring you?"

Elizabeth: "I'm not sure. But at least a note."

Me: "A note? What's the note going to say?"

Elizabeth: "I don't know yet. I don't know yet what I'm going to ask her."

Me: quizzical look

Elizabeth: "Last time I lost a tooth, I asked the Tooth Fairy about her castle. And she wrote me back. I'm not sure yet what I'm going to ask her, but I think it'll be about the cycle."

Me: "The cycle?"

Elizabeth: "Yeah, the cycle of tooth fairies. How long each gets to be tooth fairy before there's another one. And how long this one has been Tooth Fairy, so how long she has left."

Like, duh.

There was a little bit more snuggling:

And then we hit the road. We wanted to be back across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge before the DC fireworks were over. But as we crossed the brand, spankin' new bridge, we thought a lot people had a fantastic idea. We pulled off of Route 1, parked in Old Town, and walked up on the bridge. From there, not only could you see the DC fireworks, straight down the Potomac to the Washington Monument, but you had a 360 degree view of numerous Maryland and Virginia cities all setting off fireworks at the same time!

I don't think these pictures do it any justice, but here ya go:

Quite a Fourth!

Nags Head

Allow me to re-introduce myself: I'm Maureen, and I'm supposed to be the author of this blog.

I know that sometimes it doesn't seem that way, but it's true.

Sorry I've been MIA. That whole, "OMG, I can SEE," thing, took up more time than I expected.

Anyhoo, went to the beach last week. Nags Head, NC.

We went with two of Mike's grade school friends, their wives, and their little boys. The boys are 1 and 1 and a half. Pretty darned cute.


That's Jake. He was my admirer for the week. Can you see my shadow in the mirror? I was on the patio with my laptop (more than once) and he came banging on the door to get my attention (more than once). He and Brady were adorable.

I only ventured to the actual beach once, for a walk before dinner. Otherwise, the whole sand plus toddlers plus wind didn't really make my newly-lasored eyes excited. So it was the pool and margaritas for me for the most part.

Not that I'm complaining. At all.

We golfed a few times, too. Once on the drive down, just before we hit Nags Head. Then twice with Jason and Tom.

Not sure how interesting the golf talk is to many of you, but I probably played my best round on Saturday. Like, ever.

Then I was doing well on Monday's round, but I had to call into a conference call on the 10th hole and it lasted all the way through 18. So I'm still saying I shot a 60. Just don't pay attention to the fact that it was only on 10 holes.

And as you can imagine, playing a third time in one week was just one time too many. Not to mention the course was just impossible for a player like me. And not just a bad player. I'm not sure many women could play the course well, unless they were just monster golfers.

This was the view from one of my tee boxes:

You had to hit the ball dead straight, through the trees.

This was the shot from another tee box:

50 yards of tall grass. So you had to hit it high to get over this gunk.

And finally, in the middle of more than one fairway,

A big pond that was at least 40 yards deep. So you'd have to hit a little shot just to lay up right before the pond, then hope you could hit it over.

Sigh. Needless to say, those pink balls that Aunt Rita gave me for my birthday? Kinda gone now.

We came back on Thursday, and have visited with Mike's parents the last few days, who are in town painting some rooms in David and Lauren's house.

I'm off to Indianapolis tomorrow, which will kick off a lot of trips this July (yeah, yeah, I know, tomorrow isn't July, but that's just details). And travel should mean more appearances of Anticipated posts... I hope. ;-)

IMG00242-20090624-1303.jpg

Nags Head, NC

Since you asked

Joe, you do such wonderful things for my ego.

So, since you asked...

(Jenelle, Stop. Right. Here. You are no less of a friend for not reading any more.)

I was nervous as all get out. I knew it wouldn't "hurt" in so far as pain like cutting or anything. But I knew it would be a lot of discomfort (kinda verging on pain) and then the discomfort part is doubled when you realize -- :Holy s&*t! This isn't pressure on my arm! This is on my eyeball!"

The Xanax does make you a bit loopy and slow. You're conscious that every reaction you have is delayed by a few seconds.

There were two machines, and the first one was way worse than the second. I think both involved lasers, but I honestly don't know.

They prop open your eye, but use something different for each of the two machines. And they only prop open one eye at a time. So I laid down, and he put masking tape over my left eye.

Then he ...

(Jenelle, I'm serious. Do not go any further.)

Then he propped my right eye open with what can best be described as what it would feel like if you took a shot measurer and shoved it in your eye. Meaning, it almost felt like the contraption went all the way down your eye and kinda popped it out.

Hey, Joe asked.

That one really did verge on the hurting. And it went black, so that was scary, too. The doctor had warned about it, but, still, it was scary. He counted backwards in groups of five from 30, so you knew how long it would last, and that really did help.

And he didn't pause between eyes for you to be able to freak out much. Know how I said your reactions, because of the Xanax, were delayed? Well, that machine stopped (I think it was actually slicing the cornea) and he pulled out the contraption on the right eye, ripped off the tape on the left, and shoved it in the left. Like you didn't have time to say, "you know, about this whole thing..." All of a sudden he was counting backwards from 30 again.

I was laying on a table, and he swiveled the table from under that machine, stopped in the middle for a second to shine and light and make sure the cut had been made, taped up the left on again, and put me under the other machine.

(I swear, Jenelle, you're going to throw up here. If you haven't already.)

There was a red light you were supposed to focus on. He started using his hands and tools then, to pull back the cornea. My eyeball moved, and he said to "fight" him moving the eyeball. Um, right. So I tried to stay focused on the red light, and when he removed the flaps, it went completely blurry. More than just without my glasses. I could still see light, so it wasn't like the first machine.

Oh, and him touching my eye didn't hurt. They had numbed it, and that really worked. The clamp keeping my lids open was uncomfortable, but him touching my eye didn't hurt at all.

But then the laser started. You'd think with all this technology, they could make a quiet laser so it doesn't freak you out. But this thing reved up with "tat, tat, tattatatatatatat" and some air bursts.

The doctor counted backwards, this time probably from only 15, then he swung the machine away and used the tools to place the flaps back. Then he smoothed them with a little paint brush. Again, that didn't really hurt, although it felt like something was in your eye. Like you wanted to pull your head away. And you could see the brush going over your eye, like he was painting it.

Thanks to the Xanax, though, it wasn't until he was done when you did the "Holy S*&t" moment again, though. Unfortunately, there was another eye. So I think I was more tense on the second eye than the first, even though none of the second machine hurt as much as the first. Just the

realization of what he was doing.

But that was just a few seconds more, and then he pulled away the machines and literally grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. I was kinda woozy, but the nurse pulled me off the bed and over to a chair. He sat down and looked at my eyes through a normal machine from an eye doc office and said it all went great, buh bye.

The nurse had me by the arm walking me out before I even realized that he was done, basically.

The whole rest of Friday it felt like sand in my eyes and that was scary. I didn't expect so much discomfort on Friday. I had only heard the stories of people saying, "I woke up from the nap and could see the clock!" And I could. But it kinda hurt to focus.

Yesterday was less of sand in my eyes and more dry eyes -- like I had my contacts in and it was 11 p.m. at night in a smokey bar.

Right when I woke up today, they were really dry and scratchy. But since I've been putting drops in (there are so many drops -- four different types), they haven't bothered me at all.

The worst is that you can't get near your eyes to clean them. So the drops dry and around my eyes feels kinda grungy. The doc yesterday at my follow up appointment, when I asked her for tips to clean my eyelids, told me to get used to it for a week, and not to touch them. Yuck.

So there you have it! The gory details! Hey, you asked!

Did you see that?!?

'Cuz I did!

24 plus hours after Lasik and I'm doing good!

Lauren took me to the surgery center yesterday morning, and we got there really, really early. My appointment was at 8:20 a.m. in Tysons. And you know how that goes -- it can take 25 minutes to get there or 2 hours to get there. So we left around 6:50 a.m., and it, of course, took us 25 minutes.

Poor Lauren. She was a really good sport, though, and we did some driving around trying to find a coffee shop open. We finally canned that idea (probably when Lauren perceptively realized I was so nervous I just wanted to be sitting in the waiting room, even if I was an hour early).

Once they took me back, everything went fairly quickly. The nurse reminds you of all the side effects. Gives you a million drops to take after the surgery, complete with a two-week check list to help you keep track. The doctor comes in and reminds you of all the side effects. He gives you a Xanax.

Actually, an aside on the doctor. He's a surgeon, and they are infamous for not having good bed side manners. This one wasn't very different. Although I did trip him up when I asked him when it would feel like when I left the surgery center -- would I be able to see, wouldn't I, what should I expect?

And he said that it would be like I dipped my contacts in jelly.

So I said, "Ok. But, um, I never dipped my contacts in jelly, so that's not really helpful."

Pause.

Complete silence.

(me, thinking: oh, great, Maureen, piss off the surgeon before he takes a laser to your eyes.)

"Hu. Huhuhuhu. Ha. Hahaha. Ya, I guess you wouldn't have," he says.

Whew.

He gave me the Xanax, turns out the lights and leaves me to rest. I'm sure I fell asleep, and then a nurse was in ushering me to the surgery room. I laid down on a bed, she gave me a teddy bear to hold on to, and they were off.

It was literally 30 seconds on each eye, under two different machines. It was surreal. I was nervous, but the Xanax did it's job. The doctor and nurse did a good job of counting down the time under each machine, which really helped. You can stand the discomfort when you know it's only 15 seconds longer.

The weirdest was when you knew he was pulling back your cornea and then replacing it. He used a mini paint brush to smooth it back out and that realization was freaky.

But then they're done. They sit you right up, look into your eyes. pull off your hair net, and lead you right out to the waiting room.

I had an early appointment, so I didn't see anyone finishing. But I imagine that's unsettling. I know I wasn't steady on my feet, and looked dazed. But, I guess I wasn't crying or hysterical or anything!

Lauren did great getting me to the car ("those are steps, Maureen, hold on," and, as we approached the car and she had to get her keys, "hold these books, stand here and don't move."). She drove me home and helped me get upstairs and read me the directions of which drops to put in before my nap.

Sidebar on getting home for the nap: Fridays is when our housekeeper comes. On top of the surgery concerns, I was anxious that I would come home and need to take the doctor's ordered nap (it's another reason they give you the Xanax -- the first three hours after have the most discomfort and they want you to sleep through it so you don't rub your eyes), and Merecedes would be in my room, bed striped and the vacuum running.

So I left her a note asking to hit up the master bedroom first. (Yes, I actually entered the note into Google translation. I felt really guilty about the request, so it was this five sentence explanation that I was having surgery and needed to nap and I was really sorry to ask, but would she mind...)

Well, the note worked. Because Mike was actually still sleeping when she got to our house. He was going to the Baltimore office and didn't have to be there until a late morning meeting. Merecedes knocked on our bedroom door, opened it, and told him he had to get out because she needed to do this room first for me.

My nap was a success and I woke up being able to see! I was still a little unsteady on my feet yesterday, and really cautious of my eyes. They were scratchy -- scratchier than I expected, although I'm not sure why I didn't expect them to be scratchy. But they improved by the hour, and continue to do so today.

I was cleared by the doc to drive (I had to go out to Reston for my one-day follow up. Drove 35 minutes each way for a 2 minute appointment), and typing on this computer isn't bothering my eyes at all (I all but went out of my skin last night because I wasn't supposed to go on the computer, and when I snuck a few minutes, I actually couldn't even keep focus on the screen.).

I'm about to gather up all my glasses and contact stuff and maybe build a fire in the backyard.

That'd be a sight to see.

The eyes have it

12 hours from now, and I should be able to see.

My Lasik is tomorrow. After what feels like waiting for forever, and the pink eye incident, the surgery is tomorrow.

I've had a really busy week leading up to it, so for the most part, I've been able to put it out of my mind that someone would be taking a laser to my eyes in the morning.

There was Vegas, and Chicago, and hours upon endless hours of sitting on the runway during these crazy thunderstorms.

(Bonus, though, and a brush with celebrity. If one considers the Washington Post Capital Weather Gang celebrity. And if Mike gets to consider getting on the traffic report celebrity, then I get to count this: http://voices.washingtonpost.com/capitalweathergang/?hpid=weather-sidecar. Scroll to the post that is time-stamped "Posted at 08:14 PM ET, 06/ 9/2009.")

So now I'm home and ready and really, really tired, but still depending on the help on this glass of wine just to ensure that I actually fall asleep tonight.

It might take two glasses of wine. One for each eye, and all.

(p.s. A pre-emptive "thank you!" to Lauren for taking me to the Tyson's surgery center goodness-awful early and sitting around before the mall is even open to drive me home!)

I'm not sure where the weekend went. And this week seems to be going even faster! It's a short week for me because tomorrow we head to our favorite vacation spot... Vegas! A short trip this time -- we have a 4 p.m. flight tomorrow and then a 6 a.m. flight on Monday. Is it bad that I'm already thinking I want to stay longer and we should have booked different flights?

I think this past weekend went so fast because it was so laid back. Wait, that doesn't make sense. But there wasn't much of an itinerary for the weekend, which lea to a lot of aimless and random stuff on my part, which led to, "where the heck did the time go?"

Dinner with Jenelle on Friday night, running in and out of the restaurant between storms. I saw Melis for lunch on Saturday and caught up on her Vermont marathon run (go Melissa!). We met at Anne Arundel Mills mall, so of course we had to go shopping after lunch. After tons of success at the first three stores we went into, we had to cut the trip short for fear of bankruptcy.

Then the cooking began. Not sure what got into me (and sorry for the shameless self-promotion here), but I made this incredible Mediterranean meal:



Babaganoush with grilled pita bread, Spice Rubbed Lamb and Chicken Pops, Grilled Hearts of Romaine, Grilled Scallion Skewers and Orange, Radish, and Mint Salad.
OMFG. If I do say so myself.
The pooches (we were watching Sadie) especially appreciated the lamb bones:

Sunday the kick continued, with salmon rubbed in garlic and fresh oregano, rosemary and sage, grilled asparagus and grilled onions.

Homemade pesto to toss with angle hair pasta, and, voila!

This week, though, has flown by for other reasons. Busy at work, a dog who's messed twice in the house, continued thunderstorms at night which might be the cause of said dog's unease, and packing for Vegas!!!
Thank goodness for the Vegas part.

Stanley Cup

Seriously!?!?

Seriously!?!?!

Just END the darn hockey season already!

At least the Penguins swept this last series, so it was only 4 games instead of 7. Optimism, right?

MOTF

One of my colleagues wrote this on my Facebook wall last night, and it cracked me up so much I thought I'd share:

Omg, I ran into The Maureen of the Future (MOTF) on the way to the metro today.

The scene:

- 40-something socialite type wearing tasteful wrap dress and sunglasses, carrying the only Vera Bradley bag in existence that matches more than one outfit.

- Young preppies-in-training (children or nephews aged 8-10) wearing various combinations of the following: polo shirt, sweater vest,cable knit sweater tied jauntily around the neck, khakis. Obvi, shirts were tucked in and worn with a belt (like there's any other way).

- Golf & tennis chatter abounding, but the educated kind not the snooty kind that makes people tune you out in annoyance

- MOTF probably on the way to some sort of cocktail hour (um, hello, it's 5pm somewhere). Kids were, no doubt, off to some sort of sport lesson

Here's the thing. This didn't bother me one bit!

Editor's Note

The previous post has been appropriately modified due to reader feedback.

You may now return to your scheuled programming.

Philanthropist or Skeptic

I've been wrestling with the idea of this post all morning, because I'm not exactly sure how to put into words the evening I had last night. But I decided to take the advice that I'm preaching about a current work project and just "put something out there, then we can change it if we need to."

So I'm just going to write this, without any idea of the end result.

I was invited last night to take part in a book release/ "giving salute"/ networking/ hobnobbing thing. I was invited by a friend that I haven't seen nearly enough of lately, and the invitation actually came through her mother, whose company had put up some $$$ to host 10 people to the event.

That was generous and thoughtful and I wanted to catch up with said friend, so I accepted. Even though I abhor networking. Abhor it.

The event was at the Sewall-Belmont house, which was cool. That's the original home of Alice Paul, the author of the Equal Rights Amendment. It was also used as the headquarters of the National Women's Party, so there is a lot of history inside it.

It was a party to celebrate this new book on the importance of giving back to the world today -- through money, volunteerism, or whatever. The book is a compilation of essays from leaders of philanthropic organizations, nonprofits and foundations. One of the authors is an uber-networker and knows just about every body. I had actually come across her several times through work events (she wouldn't know who I was) in the past. She pulled together quite an impressive guest list to speak to the crowd, including four or five current female senators.

Here's where the torn feelings start. The senators and other women that spoke -- there were about 15 people in all who had a turn at the microphone (yes, 15) -- were all great speakers. They didn't talk long, and were engaging.

But there were more than a dozen of them. Standing outside, on uneven ground, in high heals doesn't exactly put me in the frame of mind to listen to people talk for an hour and a half.

And they all gave messages pertinent to the evenings topic: the importance of giving. Much of it, in fact, felt rally-like.

Only we weren't rallying for anything. Neither the book nor the evening wanted us to do X. Or even, X, Y, or Z. It was just "give." Give... what, exactly? And, where? And, how? And, how much?

There was a disconnect. It was like going to Game 7 of the Stanley Cup playoffs and cheering for both teams. What's the point, exactly?

(Holy crap. Did I just use a hockey analogy? When, oh, WHEN is this damn season going to be over?!?)

And when the speakers did finally wrap up, we were all supposed to network. I just don't get that. I forcibly talk to random people trying to pull out some tidbit of information that will lead me to what they can do for me? All the while knowing that they are listening to all of my words not out of genuine interest but looking for the angle that benefits them? It's all so, Italian guy with greasy slicked-back hair icky.**

Thankfully, my friend hated the situation as much as I did. We stayed and mingled as best we could for her mother's benefit. (Her mother is a corporate recruiter so she does the networking game fantastically. My friend forgot to bring business cards. I thought the mother was going to disown her. Which made the situation even more, "Really? The point again?")

So after a half hour of forced talk with some very nice people we had nothing much to talk about with, we skipped out for dinner on our own.

I feel so... ungrateful for the feelings I walked away with. There were some extremely powerful women under that tent. And even forget the "women" side of it -- there were some extremely powerful people there last night. But I just don't get the point. There was no specific cause they rallied for. They didn't even sell the book, or ask us to pitch the book or tell us where we might get a second copy.

You can't really be against the "giving" message, any more than you can be against puppies. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go run out and find a puppy to save just because I like them.

I don't know. The whole thing was just weird.

So there you go. A ramble just as unfocused as the evening!

** Clarification: not all Italian guys with greasy slicked back hair are icky. Like Joe Bondi. Clearly not icky. I'd also argue he clearly does not slick back his hair. Nor is his hair greasy. Further, I'm not sure anyone that is so excited for Memorial Day so he can pull back out the salmon pants (oh, you know you are) can be icky. It's just not possible.

Mmmmmm...

Just thought I'd share.

This is the closest I've come to imitating a restaurant-quality teriyaki sauce. I'd throw in some snap peas and carrots next time:
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/aida-mollenkamp/shoyu-chicken-recipe/index.html

Wrong post!

I don't want to be so concieted to think you might have me in your Google Reader, but in case you do... sorry about that last post, "Back in the Saddle"! It probably made not sense to you at all -- because it was meant for the other blog I post to, Not Too Early For Me! I've deleted it, so then second apologies go to those of you who don't have me in your Reader (what's up with that? I'm not important enough to you?) and now have no idea what THIS post is about.

Happy Monday! Now I'll get another cup of coffee...

Goldie's play date

Goldie had a play date last night.

More accurately, it was an audition.

Here's the deal: Mike works with Carson. Carson and Laura have a dog, Cory. For a while now, Mike and Carson have been talking about great it would be if our dogs got along so that we could watch each other's dogs while the other couple was traveling. Now that summer is approaching, what better time?

Cory is still a bit of a puppy -- he's 1. He's a bit smaller than Goldie, only about 45 pounds, black, looks like a small Golden Retriever (only black). I don't remember what kind of mix he is.

Anyway, the dogs got along...ok. Cory really, really, really wanted to play. Goldie really, really, really didn't want to. See, she's in retirement. She'd rather eat, and sleep, and be loved on. Not chase a ball, or wrestle, or run around.

She will play a little bit of "take the bone out of the other dog's mouth," a game she's a pro at from playing with Sadie. And Cory luuuuuuved that game. Cory, not so good at it.

So Goldie passed the audition (except for a few times when I thought she might lose it and snap at Cory). Cory, on the other hand...

He really is an adorable dog. Scratch that. He really is an adorable puppy. While we were eating dinner, he chewed the tassels off of two pillows. He wanted to jump on everything. He ran around and around and around. And he, um, left his mark.

I really, truly am typing this with a smile. Absolutely none of that bothered me at all. It just made me worried about leaving Cory with Goldie in a house, with no people, for 9 hours while we were at work. Because Cory might end up maimed.

And I'm pretty sure that would be bad.

Other interesting things happening today:
-- Mike decided to cook a pound of bacon for breakfast (well, he didn't eat the whole pound for breakfast, but wanted to cook it all) (this was Bacon of the Month bacon, by the way). I was in the shower, and the fire alarm went off. "No biggy," I thought. Until it went on for about five minutes. Then I thought, "I have some nice stuff in this house, I better go check..." All was fine, except for the smoke all over the second floor, and the continuing lingering bacon smell about the house.
-- I'm typing this on my laptop while watching Lost and Gray's Anatomy on the computer. Because I discovered the downfall of Direct TV this week. Storms. Storms + satelite TV = watching the episodes online.

To make up for my whining

Pink Eye

Can you believe it?!? Pink Eye!

Pink eye diagnosis confirmed, the day before eye mapping for my Lasik surgery!!!

I'll pause here so you all can have adequate time to weigh the enormity of this injustice.




I'm not a doctor and I don't even play one on TV, but I guess "pink eye" is a very generic term and there are lots of different kinds and seriousness levels, and I don't have a kind that requires antibiotics or anything. Instead I just have the kind that causes ew-gross oozing and surgery delay. The worst kind, in my opinion.

And to add insult to injury, the rest of this head congestion and sore throatiness is merely a cold, whose remedy is... wait for it... Neti Pot.

Come on! I've got to Neti Pot on top of being upset about the surgery delay?!?

You aren't familiar with this humiliation called Neti Pot? Here, allow a demonstration:




Like, ew, right?

(And sorry to my pregnant friends or sisters in law who must use Neti Pot on a regular basis because you can't take real medicine because of the bambino. Ya'll will have many more ew-gross moments in the next nine months that the Neti Pot doesn't even rank for you. For me? It ranks.)

So I did it when I got home from the doctors. Even Goldie looked at me like, "that's not natural."

I'm awaiting the call back from the Lasik center. The good news is that the pink eye started Saturday and is much improved since then, so I'm hoping for a full and speedy recovery. I promise to wash my eyes with warm soapy water several times daily and Neti Pot twice daily. Just, please, please, let me have this surgery soon!

A bad patient

I am an awful patient.

At first it was ok. The couch, sweatpants, my almost-full DVR. But by the fourth episode of Lost and the beginnings of bed sores, I was kinda over it. And that was last night at 8 p.m.

I did sleep ok last night. Except for the whole I-needed-a-wet-towel-to-open-up-my-crusty-eyes thing this morning.

I told you it was gross. (Oh, wait, I didn't warn you this time. Sorry.)

So today I geared up for another exciting day on the couch. Three more episodes of Lost (yes, that made seven), a Desperate Housewives, two Gray's Anatomy... you get the idea.

I bailed on the Mother's Day brunch for Barb (and Lauren!). Instead, I showered and got myself to the grocery store for the makings of semi-homemade chicken noodle soup.

Pre-cut carrots, celery, and onions, a rotisserie chicken, broth and noodles.



And, 30 minutes later, I had this:

Not gonna lie, it was the highlight of my day. And, it was pretty darn good.

The worst thing about being sick (well, not the worst, but a really bad part of being sick) is that you're home, but you really aren't productive. No laundry getting done (ok, fine. I did one load yesterday and one load today, but that's not really a lot.), no changing out my clothes for the season, no planting spring flowers.

I am getting an awful lot of lying around, though. And I have a killer lying around partner.

I'd write more, but I've now switched from the couch to my bed, in order to take advantage of the shows on the bedroom DVR. I did clean off the living room one, after all.

Hey, maybe that can be considered productive.

Better Days

I do not do sick well. And I’m sick.

I stayed home from work after Monday night’s fiasco. But I went back on Wednesday. Even went to the gym. Sickness is mind over matter after all, right!?! Went to work Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, and to the gym Wednesday and Thursday.

Thursday night I started to feel worse, but I’m kinda stubborn, ya know?

This morning wasn’t any improvement – stuffy, head congestion, sore throat. We had a big night planned, though. I scored tix to the Capitals (sorry, Penguins) game, and Mike’s parents are in town. So the plan was to scalp a few more tickets and all go. The best part was – I had scored suite tickets. Obviously, since why would I want to go to a hockey game unless it was in a suite?

So, with the big night planned, I decided to take a nap. A Benadryl came in handy.

One hour later, Mike woke me. It was kinda tough to wake me, because I couldn’t open my left eye. It was… ick. I will spare you the details. Just believe me when I say: iiiiiiiiiccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkyyyyyyyyyyy.

I bailed on the Caps (I mean, Penguins) game. And now I’m enjoying a seven-episode marathon of Lost, courtesy of my DVR.

I hate being sick.

So when I came to...

I told the story of my evening last night to a friend, and she pointed out that whenever you begin a sentence, "so when I came to..." it couldn't be a good story.

Last night was WEIRD! That's the only way to put it. Totally out of the ordinary for me.

I don't get sick. As a general rule, I'm extremely lucky in the colds department. Three weeks ago I came down with a doozy: coughing and sneezing and running nose for an entire week. It was probably the first time in three years I'd had a cold like that.

And I fully expected that pattern to hold: cold, 2009, check. I'll look for you again in 2012, thank you very much.

Yesterday during work I noticed that my throat was really dry, and I was starting to get cotton throat. I drank a lot of water, sucked on some hard candy, figured it would be the end of it. When I came home from work, I walked the dog for about 30 minutes and felt progressively worse on the walk. When we got back home, I actually laid on the couch for 45 minutes before making my dinner -- I had a huge headache, my neck hurt, it was uncomfortable to swallow, the whole gamut.

So I tried to get to bed before 10 p.m., took a half dose of NyQuil for good measure, and set my alarm clock to go running in the morning.

At this point Mike came home from the Penguins/ Capitals game. I stirred a bit, noticed I felt worse, went back to sleep. This patterned kept repeating on the hour every hour until about 3 a.m. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, try to drink some water but my throat felt completely closed, I tossed and turned. At one point, he asked how I felt, and I told him my symptoms. I followed it with, "at least I don't have a fever."

He reached over, touched my forehead, and said, "You don't feel hot?"

I found my thermometer, and indeed, 100.6. Not the end of the world fever, but a high temp.

Around 3, I was moving around a lot and he woke again, too. I was really achy, hot, then cold then hot again, my head felt like it was going to explode. We took the temp again and it was 101.2. That's the wrong direction, ya know?

I started to feel nauseous and stomach crampy, so I staggered to the bathroom. Where I promptly blacked out.

So when I came to...

I don't remember this, but I must have had some sort of consciousness when I was falling, because when I gained my senses, I wasn't lying flat, and hadn't hit my head or anything (thank goodness), but was more slumped on my knees, and bent over resting on my elbows. And I was DRENCHED in sweat.

Poor Mike. He got me up and changed and dressed himself and wanted to go to the ER. But you know how when you've been drinking too much, and you throw up and then that makes you feel all better? I obviously had NOT been drinking, but whatever happened to cause the faint was, like, the culmination of whatever sickness I had. I cooled down, the nauseousness went away, and my temperature was back to normal.

I convinced Mike to just let me try to sleep it off, and he obliged. I was hoping to sleep until noon, but no such luck. Still, I am feeling better. Now it's just the pressure in my head and a sore throat, but otherwise, no temperature or anything bad like that.

Was that just one, big, long, pity me post?

Hm. Well, I guess that's the power of the pen.

American Odyssey Relay (post #2)

More pics, courtesy of Melissa: http://picasaweb.google.com/nannburke/AmericanOdysseyRelayRunAdventure?feat=email#

And Tracy: http://picasaweb.google.com/tracyangelo/AmericanOdysseyRelay?feat=email#

A week ago today I was running around, packing t-shirts, picking up the team van, picking up some of the team, and getting us off to Gettysburg.

It’s amazing how quickly a week can go, especially when you were awake for two solid days of it!

Like I wrote in my last post, the Odyssey was incredible. I don’t think it’s anything that I could have prepared for, and I don’t think I can hope to recreate the experience. Ok, I could have prepared a little better in the running department! I had one of the easiest difficulties on my legs, and I think I met running expectations. But of course, competitive me, I wish I could have done just a little bit better!

But we’d have a hard time recreating the energy of our team, and especially of our van. (In case I haven’t said this yet: we were a team of 12, with six runners in each of two minivans. Each runner had three legs to complete, ranging in distance from just over three miles to almost 9 miles. My total mileage was just about 14-15 miles.)

The vans overlapped a few times, like at each transition between runner 6 and 7 and runners 12 and back to 1. But the course was also set up that besides these quick transitions, two spots were set up where we could meet up for a bit longer. It was interesting to me how, even during these longer transition spots, we pretty much kept to our vans. I think we were all taken aback by the immediate bonding that happened in our physical push and exhaustion.

And, the awesome shirts (really, wardrobes!) that Keith got us all helped with the cohesion, too!

Tracy, a family friend of Mike’s, was in my van. So Mike, Mike’s mom, Tracy’s mom and Tracy’s daughter joined us at the start in Gettysburg. I was runner two and Tracy was runner three, so they followed us in their own van during those first three legs. That worked out great because they got to truly see how we stopped along the road to cheer a runner on, how the transitions worked, jumping back into the van all sweaty… which helped since on Saturday and Sunday we talked incessantly about the two days!

Our van did an incredible job (I think) of supporting the runners while they were out on the road. We stopped several times along their route to cheer and offer water. There were only 104 teams in the race, and the start times were spread out over several hours – so when Keith, our first runner, started at 11:30 a.m. on Friday, he started with about 6 or 7 other runners. So when you were running, you were never running in close proximity to someone else, and infrequently even saw other runners on the road. So the van stopping to cheer really helped.

I was surprised at how fast the first six hours went. Because we followed our runner so closely, when we were in the van, no one ever opened up a magazine or a book or really even held conversations. We were focused on finding the next turn on the road and jumping out to make sure our runner made the turn (yes, the race set up signs, but not all were very well marked, and you couldn’t see the ones at night -- more on night running in a bit – so each runner was responsible for carrying a set of turn-by-turn instructions in their hand and following them. That’s really tough, so our van would sit at each turn and make sure the runner made it.).

In fact, at about hour five, I realized we hadn’t even turned on the radio, we were that focused.

Once our sixth runner (after a grueling seven mile hill) transitioned to the seventh runner (the first runner of the second van), we went in search of dinner. We had approximately 5 -6 hours off here, but this, too, went quick. We followed the course through all the back roads so we could see the legs the other runners would be on (and we had not other option!), so that was slow driving. We had a nice hour or so dinner. We made some phone calls. We drove to the next transition spot (where van #2’s last runner would hand off back to our first), and we probably only waited there about 45 minutes for that hand off.

I don’t remember exactly, but I think that happened around 9:30 p.m. So our van started our second legs in the dark. We were outfitted beautifully by our team captain, Melissa. There’s a really funny picture that we took of Keith from the van, behind him. When the flash went off, it lit up all his reflective gear and he looks like a Christmas tree!

That night running was pretty scary. These were back roads, so there was no sidewalk or shoulder, so once or twice when a car came towards you, you would literally have to jump into the grass, just to feel safe.

We really tried to follow the night runners even more. In fact, for most of our night runners, the van didn’t let them out of its sight. Keith got hurt on his night run, when he was blinded by a car coming towards him and tripped in a pot hole. Since he transitioned to me, I didn’t know that happened until after my run. Evidently, when he stopped running, he had bloody hands and a bloody knee and a monstrously swollen ankle. Lucky for him he was immediately surrounded by four girls (I was off running!) who wanted to take care of him!

But that didn’t last long, mostly because I was out running. All five of us girls will say it – thank goodness for Keith in our van! He had that van on top of us during the night running and we all felt much safer for it. I was lucky, too, because there was a runner about a half mile ahead of me with a blinking light on her back. We stayed the same distance apart the entire run, and I couldn’t see her body at all. But I could at least focus on that blinking light and see when it would disappear (knowing there was a downhill coming up) or seeing her turn. But, man! Was it dark!

Our most intense time was this night running. Even though by the time I handed off to Tracy it was after 11 p.m., we were all incredibly alert. Tracy lost her directions and depended wholly on the van to tell her when to turn. But her leg ended (this is going to get confusing!) at a high school. The race coordinators set up with this high school that there would actually be FOUR transitions there. They did this so a transition would happen between vans (allowing us to see the other teammates) but also because the high school opened up its locker facilities to us. So the idea was that when the runners went off, the rest of the team would hand back and relax.

Dude! It was pitch black out! We couldn’t leave our runners! But, with this huge transition area, it was also a mad house, and really hard to find where the transitions would all be. We ended up making a large number of split second decisions, that all thankfully worked out. While Tracy was running, we actually dropped two of our other runners (Keith and Laura) off at a really hard turn to make sure Tracy made it. Then I drove the van ahead and got Melissa as close to the transition point as I could so she’d be there when Tracy arrived. Quickly found and picked Laura and Keith back up, then practically threw Angelica and Laura out of the van back at the high school with blankets and water to find Tracy in the mass of people and vans so Keith and I could get back on the road and find Melissa running. It all worked out because of the night runs, Melissa had the “easiest” – it was out and back on one major road, where she was on a sidewalk or shoulder with street lights the whole time. Still scary, but if we had to be late following one running leg, that would be it.

Completely different from Angelica’s! She ran through a residential area where the houses were set way back from the road and acres apart from each other. I didn’t know it could get that dark anywhere.

We were also thankful to have a man in our van when the night running was over and we drove to the next spot where Keith would pick up from the second van. We parked in a parking lot in Antietam and tried to sleep for about an hour and a half. I know all of us, and all of our husbands, felt much better having him there!

We got what shut eye we could before having to start the third grueling leg. There was a lot of pandemonium while we waited for Keith to start running. His ankle was about the size of a watermelon, and there were no facilities to be found. Many hysterical (in hindsight) stories not exactly appropriate for the blog ensued. Let’s just say we didn’t help keep our parklands clean that morning.

The third leg was brutal because of how exhausted we were. We had dinner the night before, but really weren’t eating properly. Hadn’t slept. Were exhausted. And the day quickly became hot.

It was also a bit of a bummer because the van could follow Keith and I on our third legs, but then Tracy, Melissa, Angelica and Laura all ran along the C&O canal – so the car couldn’t follow. Good for them because they were a bit shaded, and there were no turns to make at all. But lonely! And lonely for the van, too. It made the waiting for them much, much harder!

We finally finished our legs and headed to Alexandria. Mike got our bathrooms prepped with towels and shampoo and soap and we all got to take a shower!!! Then we headed to the Mall, to wait for the second van to finish their run.

We had lots of support there, with Jenelle joining in on the cheering. Our last runner, Amanda, pulled up around 5:45 p.m. or so, and we all got to run the last 100 yards together to the finish line.

Of course, I cried. I tend to be an emotional runner.

Afterwards, Debbie (Keith’s wife) threw the mother of all after parties at their suite at the Ritz. Too bad more of the team couldn’t join us! We devoured food, had a few glasses of wine, and I just might have been asleep before we even finished driving home!

American Odyssey Relay Race (post #1)

OMG! I have so much to say about the race! It was unbelievable! There's no way to prepare for this kind of thing! I had such an amazing team, especially our van!!

I will write more, but in the meantime, photos!

http://picasaweb.google.com/maureenpetron/AmericanOdysseyRelayRace?authkey=Gv1sRgCJKfiJe1zerZ4gE&feat=directlink

The ones I've marked as "courtesy of Laura" probably won't be the best resolution because I just save them from her FB profile.

More to come, I promise!

Angela's Angels

Saturday was the gala in Raleigh. It was for a charity called Angela's Angels, and it benefited down syndrome.

Before getting to the great evening, let me tell you one more story about my angel. In fact, that's what I e-mailed to Rob and Kristin on Saturday morning, after Goldie's behavior on Friday, "How's my little angel?"

Rob's response:

"Angelic. Although one quick story: I was walking her last night and not paying very good attention. Goldie spots a mostly-eaten piece of pizza on the sidewalk and tries to eat it. I grab it out of her mouth and throw it to the side a couple of feet away.

Well, I have to tell you that I've never seen a dog her size *pounce* before. But Goldie lunged for that pizza crust like she was a lion going after a zebra. Almost knocked me off my feet. There is simply no denying her when it comes to food. "

That's my girl!

So, Saturday in Raleigh. Gorgeous day. Outside play with the kids, bike ride around the neighborhood, hide and go seek, all the fun stuff. As usual, I can't believe that I was so absorbed in the playing, that I didn't get a single picture of them! I know, I know! What kind of aunt am I?
A bit of beautifying later, Terry, Sara, Mike and I were ready for the gala.




Our plan was to have cocktails on Terry's screened-in porch for a half hour before the limo he scheduled was due to arrive.


It ended up being an hour and a half of cocktails since the limo was an hour late! But here were are on the drive to the gala...

The gala was a lot of fun. Their friends, Robin and Paul, have a son with down syndrome, and Robin is involved with the charity and the event planning. There was a "silent" auction (not so silent, you wrote you name down on a piece of paper to bid and could see everyone else's bid. There was also a live auction with larger prizes, like beach houses and such.

We lost on anything we wanted in the live auction, but walked away with quite a bit from the silent auction. I won a "chef for the day" with Jimmy Reale of Carolina Crossroads, the four star restaurant in the Carolina Inn. So I guess I'll have to go back to Raleigh soon!

And we'll also have to go back for the party Terry and Sara are about to throw. They bid on and won a catered dinner party and a private in-home wine tasting.

Mike also walked away a winner! Besides the big basket of cookies he won, we walked out with two three-liter bottles of wine.

Not names to speak of, but fun nonetheless!

Lots of drinks and dancing later, we were ready to wrap it up. Some final pictures...

It was a great night, and many thanks to Terry and Sara for inviting us!

Breach in security‏

Just received this e-mail from Robert and Kristin. I'm stopping laughing just long enough to post:

"So I came home today while Kristin was still at her barn. Kristin had put Goldie's food in our armoire while she was gone. Goldie somehow figured out how to open the armoire and get the bag containing her food off the shelf. I'm sure you know what happened next: she proceeded to eat all of her food for the weekend.

Despite putting Goldie's food in the armoire, Kristin would like to remind us that we shouldn't leap to any conclusions about whose "fault" this is. Really, it could be anybody.

Anyway, Goldie seems perfectly fine and happy - and still wanting to eat even more. While we're obviously not going to give her anything tonight, we're wondering what kind of food you give her, so that we can get some (modest) portions for her for tomorrow and Sunday.We're really sorry about this! It's been a while since we've both had a dog in the house. Especially one this hungry!"

I told you. They're not going to be our friends any more.

Fun while it lasted

It was fun being friends with Kristin and Robert.

We had some good times, great meals, shared some laughs.

But many relationships come to an end, and I think our end has just begun. Because Kristin and Robert are watching Goldie this weekend.

We dropped her off this morning at their gorgeous Washington, D.C., town home. The one with recently refinished hardwood floors throughout. And probably filled with very, very expensive things.

Kristin is confident that walking Goldie will be fun, and since she is a horse trainer, she won't have need for the gentle leader.

Raise your hand if you've walked Goldie. It's not quite what you expect, is it?

Kristin and Robert are very excited to have Goldie for the weekend, since they are both dog lovers. And Goldie can be the best of dogs. She's lazy, loves to cuddle, and gets so excited to see you.

But she also eats everything in sight, can actually open up cabinet doors, and wags her tail so hard she can break walls... and definitely can break knick knacks and worse, wake you up in the morning.

So, I suspect when Mike picks Goldie back up on Sunday, that just might be our last time seeing Kristin and Robert. If they even speak to Mike on Sunday.

It's been nice. I'll miss them.

Parking

Along with the office move to a new building comes a new parking garage.

And with a new parking garage comes finding a new "usual" spot to park, ignoring the fact that that spot my be someone else's "usual" spot, of course.

Half-way through my second month in this building, I still have yet to find "my" spot.

I arrive earlier than 99% of the parkers in this garage, it seems. I have the pick of the litter when I arrive at 6:10 a.m. (on the mornings I work out) or even when it's not until 7:30 a.m.

That means I get to snag the spots where I can easily back in, and are on the higher levels.

I wasn't really having a problem when I was leaving between 5:45 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. But several times in the past week I've needed to leave around 4:30 p.m. or 4:45 p.m. to get out to Alexandria. And on each of those occasions, I've been parked in by the valet parking.

Which means I have to walk up the ramp, tell them the ticket number on the car blocking me, and wait in line like until one of them is free to move it.

Annoying.

Today I also hope to leave around 4:30 p.m., so I thought I'd be smart about parking. I went down an extra level, staying clear of the spots that had me parked in.

Just a few minutes ago, the office phone rang. It was the main parking attendant. Apparently, although there are dozens of spots marked "Reserved for Interpark Valet" throughout the garage, and I did NOT park in one of those reserved spots, they still like to have that spot for themselves because it's on an end and they can double park around it, and someone just forgot to put up the orange cone this morning, and would I mind moving it.

Where exactly CAN I park in this garage, I wanted to yell into the phone!

But in life, there are a number of people who you really want to help out -- pat their back -- because it'll come around two-fold for you. (Oh, and it's Christian of you -- don't forget that one.) Your boss's secretary, for example. The dry cleaner. The FedEx guy.

I think the parking attendants in your building is one of them, although they are about to lose their spot.

So I moved the car. Heaven knows if I'll be parked in this evening.

Pictures

Pictures are up! Sorry for the delay! Pictures are scattered throughout the previous two posts, now!

The Weekend Continues

After a pretty late and eventful Friday night, it was extremely difficult to get out of bed on Saturday morning and meet Rob for a jog.

We had made the commitment early on Friday to jog, and said we’d meet in the lobby at 8:30 a.m. As we broke up from drinks (we had to debrief with Kristy and Bobby after the Nobu night afterall) at 2:30 a.m., we had the wherewithal to realize 8:30 a.m. would be hard to do.

So we pushed it back to 9 a.m.

I do believe this was one of those mornings where I attempted to jog still intoxicated from the night before. But jog we did, and embarrass myself by having to stop and walk part-way through, I did.

The rest of Saturday was pretty lazy – a late breakfast, a stroll with the group down Lincoln Road and Espanola Way, and attempt to find a cheap pedicure (haha!), a half-hour nap, and then we all gathered again for dinner.

One of Brian’s friends had recommended an Italian restaurant a few blocks from the beach. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of Italian (who is when you know you have a bathing suit to wear the next morning?), but had nothing better to suggest.

And I’m glad I didn’t. A jewel of a place, we opted for the five course tasting menu. That, by the way, was the full description of the meal. No, “choose one from this, one from that.” It was described to us as completely up to the whim of the chef that night. What I love about this group is that most of us were game.

Of course it was even better with the wine pairings, too.

Asparagus flan, caramelized fennel risotto, and lots of other deliciousness. Oh, Mike and another one of our group didn’t get the tasting menu, but Mike got this:


Just a big platter of Parmesan and prosciutto.

Also really cool about this place was that there were five people working the entire restaurant. Yes, it was a small restaurant, and it had an atmosphere where you expected to have a slow meal, but still quite impressive. There was a main waiter who was also the host, an assistant waiter/ food runner/ buser, a chef, an assistant chef, and a dishwasher. That’s it.

Three hours later, we headed to a wine bar on the recommendation of one of Robert’s friends. Mike and three of us girls bailed pretty early on that, while the other half of the group lived up their last night in Miami.

Sunday morning was Easter. A gorgeous solo run at sunrise got me in the mood for the day, but Easter services quickly got me out of it!
Mike and I ended up going to a Catholic church with Kristin. As you can probably guess, it wasn’t easy to find a Presbyterian church in South Beach. Catholic churches, on the other hand, were abundant. And we decided the additional fellowship with Kristin was worth going with her.

So we all dressed up and headed out for 8 a.m. service. Note to self: when packing for Miami beach, don’t worry so much about dressy clothes for church.

Mike was one of several people in a suit at the service. Unfortunately, the others were in the swim type of suits. He guessed that he was probably the only person in the church actually wearing socks. Including the priest.

And I know that Holy Week is a busy one for priests and all, but when this one decided to read the lyrics to “Hero” by Mariah Carey as his homily, throwing in a few “Jesus’s,” really, what else could we do but chuckle?

Memorable, yes. Spiritual? Not so much.

Brunch with everyone at Van Dyke’s on Lincoln Road, and then Kristin and Robert had to leave for the airport.

The rest of us headed to the pool one more time, and once Brian finally staked out enough lounge chairs, spent a pretty relaxing afternoon there. Mike made everyone’s afternoon by bringing Corona’s and chips and guacamole we had picked up on the way back from brunch down poolside.

Before Kristy, Bobby, Heather and Brian had to leave we walked to a Cuban restaurant for a late lunch/ early dinner. I had these sliders made of ground sausage and pork and topped with fried onions that were out of this world.

The rest of the afternoon alternated between watching the masters and taking Mike for a long walk down Ocean Drive, back up Collins and finally back over to Lincoln for my Easter chocolate Ghirardelli sundae.

It was a pretty early night for us, one last jog on the beach for me this morning, and now I’m typing this on the plane ride back to DC!

All in all, a hugely successful trip. One of my favorite things to do is eat, and this is a group of champion eaters!