It was only a dream...

Yeah, I've been pretty boring here lately. Sorry about that. I've had a ton of things going on, but I haven't felt particularly inspired where any of them are concerned. It's almost as if my life is taking a deep breath, waiting for something big to happen to snap me out of this rut.

Things haven't been a total waste, though. And since it's been a long time since I've put together one of these lists, here is a sampling of what I've learned lately:

• Spring really is the happiest time of the year.
• The ants that live in my back yard are zombies - no matter how many times I kill them all, they always come back. I hope they don't eat my brain.
• Harrison Ford is still pretty sexy for an old guy.
• Sunday night is still hot single guy night at the grocery store.
• I will never learn to fix my hair and do my makeup before going to the grocery store on Sunday nights
• Everyone should have a whirlwind summer fling with no hope of permanency at least once in their lives. It's good for the soul.
  
• The book was wrong - you don't need a towel everywhere you go. You need an umbrella.
• Even though I spend a lot of time wishing I could go home and curl up on my couch, I'm actually much happier when I'm out and about doing stuff.
• Despite this fact, there is nothing sweeter than a good nap on a Saturday afternoon.
• I hate the USPS, people in mail rooms, and anything that has to do with failed cheesecake.
• I need to find a few good books to read this summer. Suggestions are welcome - Non-fiction ideas will earn you much scorn, ridicule, and derision.
• I'm not turning into my mother, after all.
• It's really hilarious when it's your SISTER'S kid who throws his wiimote through the brand new plasma tv screen.
• Every woman should have an ex-husband as cool as mine.
• Never eat a jalapeño chicken sandwich and spicy vegetables immediately before going to a movie theater
• I belong in the arts. I will get back there some day if it kills me.
• Within the next six months, I intend to be making a shitload more cash than I do right now. This will help with the long-term arts plan.
• My kid is awesome, even if he is turning 12.
• I have the coolest friends in the world.
  

Now I'm off to go be boring for a few more hours. I think there's a nap with my name on it hiding somewhere in the couch.

So I made cheesecakes this past weekend. I was delighted with how they came out, and froze one immediately to go to K in Washington. I was determined to make sure it got there completely unscathed...I would do whatever I had to do to make it work.

After wrapping it in parchment paper, then adding a layer of plastic wrap and freezing it, I placed the springform pan gently back around it. I then placed it in a styrofoam cooler and popped over to Meijer for a pound of dry ice. I tucked everything in big, puffy packing material, and rushed over to the post office on my lunch yesterday.

The cooler was taped securely, with just a small space to allow the carbon dioxide to escape (dry ice will make the whole thing explode if you don't let it out). I paid eleventy million dollars to ship it overnight, to arrive today at K's office by noon.

And then the unthinkable happened. There was apparently no one in the mail room when the mailman arrived. He left a note telling them there was a package...and will attempt delivery again another day.

Right now, my cheesecake is sitting in the post office in Tacoma, and I have no idea what condition it is in. It may or may not still be frozen. It may or may not be melting into a puddle of cheesy custard in the cooler. It may or may not be completely ruined.

I worked so hard on this whole project, I could just cry. He has been working so hard on the MBA/CFA projects lately that I know he could scream...and I honestly believe that a little bit of homemade cheesecake, baked with a bit of Christine-y goodness, has the potential to make everything just a little bit easier. Call me naive, I don't care. It's my way of taking care of the people that mean a lot to me.

I hope they try to deliver it again tomorrow, and I pray that there is someone there to sign for it when they arrive. I then can only hold my breath and wonder if it will still be in one piece...and edible. If it doesn't arrive tomorrow, it has no chance of survival. None.

Say a little prayer to the postal gods tonight, if you would.

Please.

-Fleur Adcock

A snail is climbing up the window-sill
into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see, and I explain
that it would be unkind to leave it there:
it might crawl to the floor; we must take care
that no one squashes it. You understand,
and carry it outside, with careful hand,
to eat a daffodil.

I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
your gentleness is moulded still by words
from me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
from me, who drowned your kittens, who betrayed
your closest relatives, and who purveyed
the harshest kind of truth to many another.
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.

I had lunch with Jonathan yesterday, which was (as always) delightful. I won't give a full spoiler report, but he's in for some pretty big changes in his life. I'm really happy for him, his family, and everyone else who will be positively affected by all of the cool stuff that's happening.

Here's the thing, though. Lucky bastard was wearing the coolest shirt in the world when I picked him up - it was a white tee with a great big ol' picture of Trogdor on the front. He's awfully lucky I didn't steal it off of him and make him wear my girly sleeveless button-down home. Now I have to figure out where I can buy myself some Trogdor gear.

And by the way, am I the only person in the world whose first exposure to Trogdor was through Guitar Hero, and not through the sbemails section at homestarrunner.com?

First, let me apologize for not drawing attention to this earlier in the week. It seems that an historic event occurred on Monday, which shall forever now be known as "Oreo Day". I'm marking it on my calendar for next year, just in case it happens to come back.

Alas, I was not witness to this moment of beauty, as I was asleep in my bed many miles north of the hallowed site. But just knowing that it happened in my area is enough to give me a happy glow of peace and wonder.

So imagine this. It's early in the morning. You're driving down I-80 between Joliet and Morris, and there is a great big truck in front of you. Our Dear Lord God Above, in his wondrous mercy, looks down upon the driver of said big rig, and places his hand upon his shoulder.

"Sleep now," he whispers to the man.

And the man does. He drifts off into a peaceful slumber, in which he dreams of green pastures, fruitful fields, and a quiet valley of heaven.

Except, of course, for the fact that it's really a sheep farm, cornfields, and a great big median. But that's beside the point.

The truck flies off the edge of the highway, into the median, and comes to a crashing halt. In the process, his truck breaks open and spills its precious cargo all over the highway.

The load?

Yeah.

Twenty thousand pounds of oreo cookies.

I shit you not.

You stop your car, fall to your knees, and thank the Creator for his sweet gifts and blessings.

Then you stuff your trunk full and beat it the hell out of there before the cops show up.

And we all live happily ever after.

The End

Before I forget in the hubbub, I wanted to share a nugget that came out of a conversation I had yesterday...you, of all people, will appreciate this one.

The Greatest Name for a Band Ever -

"Mean Games With Sweet Girls"

You can thank me later.

Last night on the phone, you said you were pretty sure I'd blog about my evening...

...but I'm not going to.

How very unlike me, don't you think?

What I will say is this...

I woke up this morning, and stepped outside to water my flowers. The sky was clear, except for a few high, puffy clouds, and the birds were singing. My fading lilacs still filled the air with the sweetness of spring. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun....

It is a new day.

What was that commercial for? I am thinking it was either V-8 or some sort of after-shave. I'm not sure. I know, I know...big difference.

Anyway, I had a great day today. And I needed that.

So thanks to the person that made me smile. Even though the odds are that you'll never read this, I hope you know that it meant a lot to me.

And next time, I'll try a lot harder not to fracture your skull in the process.

Scout's honor.

No really, I mean that. Women complain about men being pigs, but guys have nothing on the nastiness of chicks. Don't ask so surprised, either. You know it's true.

It's also a well-known fact that I'm one of those people that has to pee a lot. We can blame it on the bp meds, or on the fact that I drink a ton of fluids. It doesn't really matter...the fact is that I'm on about a once-an-hour schedule throughout the work day.

So this morning, at about 9:30, I headed for the ladies' room. I really had to go. I made a beeline for the first stall, where.......whoa. Someone had dribbled all over the seat. Gross! If you're that paranoid about catching cooties from the seat (which I am), then use the little paper cover. It's not that hard.

I made a quick turn for stall #2. Guuaaaaahhhh. Could it be?! No.....

Yes. Dingleberries. I kid you not. I'm not touching that seat with a ten foot pole.

Stall #3. Wet tp stuck to the seat.

Last chance - the handicapped job at the end. I almost dove for it, I swear.

And I am not even going to begin to tell you what was in there. I can't possibly relive it, and I'm not going to make you vomit. I'm nice like that.

So I had to do the cross-legged hobble down to the 8th floor, and start over. It took three stalls to find one that didn't have some horrifying tale to tell.

So, ladies, why? Why can't you just pee and be done with it? For the love of all that is holy, must you make my potty experience so traumatizing?

This is a call to action. Pee in the toilet. Don't leave surprises behind for your friends. And please...this part is important.....FLUSH WHEN YOU ARE DONE.

That is all. Carry on.

I am so all about this song by Ludo right now- it's been stuck in my head for three days. I'd embed the video, but that function is disabled on the Youtube site.

Check it out.

I napped this afternoon, which was likely a bad idea....but it felt so nice to just curl up on the couch and close my eyes that I couldn't resist. The result of this, unfortunately, is that I am now wide awake. I do believe, however, that it's worth it.

It's chilly tonight, and the wind is still blowing. After A went to bed and I finished up some work, I put on a sweatshirt and went outside to sit for a while. The first thing that struck me was just how very dark it was. I told myself that I was being silly, because of course it's dark - it's nighttime. But then I realized that for the first time in ages, the neighbors didn't have their outside light on. And the half moon was hiding behind a thin layer of remaining clouds. It truly was darker than I'd seen in a long time...and it was wonderful.

I sat down and put my feet up on the table. Laying my head on the back of the chair, closing my eyes, I smelled the lilacs...with only about a week left to bloom, they should be savored, don't you think? It was quiet. I relaxed.

It has been a good weekend. I am happy, and relatively calm. I have so much to be grateful for, and as I sat in the dark, with the wind stirring my hair, I smiled. It was a fabulous Mother's Day. My life is good, despite its hectic pace. I am a lucky woman.

I came inside and peeked in on A, who was curled up in a mess of blankets in his room, which I affectionately call the Pit of Despair (if you saw it, you would agree). He looked small there in his bed, even though he's as big as I am now. Sleep brings a certain youth to every face, which is twice as beautiful in children. His deep, even breathing told me that he was at peace, too. I smiled again.

Happy moments, my friends. That is what life is all about. Enjoy every single one of them, and keep living for the opportunity to find them.

I love you people...those of you I have pointed here. Because you know what?

You make me smile, too.

Thanks for being a part of my life.

We were going to go to the Cubs game today for Mother's Day, but the cold, wind, and rain have changed our plans. I must say, though, that it's a pretty darn good day. A and his dad took me out for brunch at our favorite Polish restaurant, and A paid. It was the cutest thing ever.

When we got home, he gave me the sweetest gift in the world - a book of poems he wrote. I was so impressed by his sense of assembly - I know a lot of adults that couldn't compete with him. Here, for your daily "awwwwwww" factor, are a few of the poems he wrote me.

Spring - Octuplet

Spring is the time that I like best,
This season is better than all the rest,
The falling rain beats out the snow,
In a gentle happy flow,
I ride my bike to school and back,
Then I latch it to the rack,
Birds do chirp and birds do fly,
What a beautiful season, my oh my.

Mother - Triplet

For all the time I spend with my mother,
There is one thing that makes me glad,
That thought is that I don't have a brother.

Banana - Tanka

Yellow banana
Hiding a yellow spider
Ready to be picked
Picked and then the spider bites
Human jumps and runs away


Mom - Bio Poem

Christine
Smart, polite, kind, helpful
Lover of her son, baking, and computers
Who feels happy because her son is with her, infuriated because she didn't get her couch,
and frustrated because she has a really hard job
Who fears spiders because they bite, losing her job because it is how she makes money,
and old age because she likes to be youg
Who would like t be remembered as a good mom, an important figure, and a friend of many
Who would like to see Costa Rica, her grandpa, and the Eiffel Tower.

My Mom - Definition

Kind to children
Loving every day
Cheerful at most times
Caretaking to her kid
Prepares dinner on most nights
Party planner on birthdays
Advice giver when her kid is stuck
Inspiring at tough moments
Loves to bake

This is my mom.

So, am I the luckiest mother on the planet, or what? :) Happy Mother's Day to all of you other moms out there. Enjoy your day...I surely will!

I was on the elevator at work today, innocently heading up to the ninth floor, when the little closed-circuit tv monitor pissed me off.

On the screen was the following blurb (yes, I went straight to my desk and wrote it down. sure me):

Grossly Outnumbered!

There are over 40,000 different spiders in the world. In contrast, there are only 4,000 species in the entire mammal kingdom.

Now, I'm not a rocket scientist (or a biologist, for that matter), but it only took me about a half a second to say, "Hey, wait a minute!"

There is no such thing as the mammal kingdom. I found myself channeling Mr. Reeves, my high school biology teacher, who may have been one of the oddest men I have ever met. My sister thought he was the best teacher ever - I, on the other hand, always thought he was a bit creepy. He looked a bit like the bastard love child of Grizzly Adams and Fred Flintstone. With red hair. And big coke bottle glasses.

"Look here, monoecious...." I could hear him saying. He called everyone that, as his own little nasty way of making people look shit up in order to learn while being insulted. Just to save you the trouble:

Main Entry: mon·oe·cious \mə-ˈnē-shəs, mä-\
Function: adjective
I know. It's lame. But that was his thing.

"Look here, monoecious. King Phillip came over from Germany Saturday, remember? There is no mammal kindgom!"

Remembering that, my eyes rolled back into my head. I struggled to pluck the information from the depths of my shriveling brain. Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species.

Kingdom - Animal
Phylum - Chordata (Vertebrate)
Class - Mammalia (Mammals)

etcetera....etcetera....etcet.....*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

At that point, it was too late for me. Mr. Reeves was in my head. I remembered having to pee (badly) during his class. I raised my hand.

"Mr. Reeves?"

"Yes, monoecious."

"Can I please go to the bathroom?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Tell me. Can your bladder hold twenty more drops, do you think?"

I thought about it. It sounded like a stretch. "I don't think so."

"How about ten?"

I squirmed. I could probably do ten, but what was the point? "Um, probably."

"Good!" he proclaimed. "Because there are about ten minutes left in my class. Your bladder produces, on average, one drop of urine per minute. You'll be just fine to wait until the bell."

The entire class groaned. He had struck again.

Right around that time, he would have likely scanned the floor of the classroom for loose change. He always picked up pennies, dimes, nickels, whatever he could find...and at the end of the school year, he would take his wife out for a steak dinner with all of the money he'd collected.

Did I mention he was odd?

So I was standing there on the elevator, thinking of Mr. Reeves, when it struck me. The evil bastard had actually taught me something that's been in my head for over 20 years. Why is it that I can't remember where I parked my car when I leave the office, I never have any idea where my keys are, and I can run into someone in the deli that I know I've met before, and have no clue what their name is....but I can instantly recall, as clear as a bell, being told by Mr. Reeves while dissecting an earthworm that they taste just like cockroaches?

I'm telling you. The dude was creepier than I imagined.

I had a phone interview for another job today - this one doesn't sound quite as much up my alley as the other for which I'd applied, but it is interesting. Plus I know two people that work for this company (which is one of the biggest in the business), and they've both told the hiring manager that I am the person for the job. It was a bit strange to go through an interview in that position, I must say. I've never before been a prime candidate, and it's pretty humbling.

I'm also invited to a party this Saturday night with a guess list that looks like the who's who of Chicago. One of my clients, who seems to have befriended me, really wants me to come. I told him I don't have a date, and he indicated that was no big deal, as it would be a piece of cake to pair me up with just about any of his friends.

That, in particular, was disconcerting.

So I find myself in this place where in many ways, I'm very successful - or on the verge of achieving great things. Career-wise, I've got options, all of which pay much more than I'm making now. Socially, I seem to be getting to know some influential people. And on the arts front, this board membership seems to be opening some great doors.

But, to paraphrase something Jonathan said to me a while back, success is hard. It really makes you question who you are, where you're going, and whether or not you belong in certain places. I was talking with my mom tonight, and what struck me as we spoke was the fact that I just feel....awkward.

Socially, I still feel like a misfit kid. I seem to have two modes of operation - painfully shy and quiet, or babbling like a drunken idiot. I'm not very good at small talk, unless I can follow along with a conversation primarily carried by someone else. If things are too quiet, I just start rambling about crap, and then feel like a moron afterwards. This isn't just in new situations, either - it's whenever I feel that there is something at stake. The middle ground of a comfort zone is just so elusive.

I've proven this recently in many ways, and a couple of you who are close to me can vouch for that, I'm sure. I even went for a few months not speaking to someone I care about, because I just didn't know what to say. I wanted to talk, but knew that if I did, it would come off as just trying too hard. Which it sometimes still does, I know.

I'm also afraid that if I go to this party Saturday night, I'm either going to stand in a corner nursing a beer all night or make a fool of myself flirting with a group of guys I'll never see again. Neither sounds particularly appealing, although I know that just showing up is the right thing to do.

The strange thing lately is that I'm off-balance at work now. I've always been very close with my entire group - but it's hard to be open and honest when you're out interviewing at other places. I've therefore spent a lot of time holed up in my office avoiding people, because as anyone who knows me can attest, I have no poker face.

Work has always been the stable force in my life...when everything else is shaky, I know I have that stability to fall back on. Right now I'm moving so fast that I don't really feel like I have a central, steady core to keep me balanced. I'm off-kilter.

A, of course, is about to turn twelve. There is no such thing as stability or predictability there. He's doing great, but life changes completely every time he blinks.

Many of my friends, too, are going through very tough times. I'm trying to be there, and be reliable for them, but baking cookies and helping around the house now and then only goes so far.

And this movie project is really exciting, but I feel like I'm dropping the ball a bit there, because I can't dedicate a ton of time to it.

We won't even talk about men - I've been making an idiot out of myself there, too (back to the silent vs. babbling dilemma).

And maybe if I would sleep, everything would be a lot easier.

As I told my mom on the phone tonight, I know that I really don't have anything to complain about. And to be honest, I'm not really complaining. I know that there are throngs of people who would kill to be in my position right now.

I'm just off-balance. I need to find a middle ground, and have some sort of a safe haven where I can relax and be comfortable.

Because, see.....?

I'm even babbling here, now.

Success really is hard.

It's going to rain tonight...big thunderstorms that light the radar up with yellow and orange bands.

Enough stressing, enough worry. Enough lying awake rehashing the day in my head.

Enough wondering where my life will take me, and what lies ahead on the path.

Again, enough lying awake.

Tonight, I'm going to lock my bedroom door and sleep naked with the window open...I don't care if the wind blows storms into my room. I don't care if tomorrow brings more questions. I don't care if I never find the answers I've been seeking. I'm going to fill my head with the scent of wet lilacs outside my window, and I'm going to sleep like a woman who has never had a care in her life.

Enough.

Because tonight...tonight, it rains....

Yes, tomorrow is the famous Cinco de Mayo. But are you aware of today's significance?

May the Fourth be with you :)

(boo, hiss)

I'll never forget my trip to Dallas last year, just because of the events I witnessed at the airport while returning home.

I may not be a fan of the war in Iraq, and I may think terrible things of our current administration. I am not one of those people who puts a yellow ribbon on her car (sometimes even upside down, which drives me out of my mind). I do not know anyone currently serving in a battle situation.

But I read the news, and I have been told stories by friends who have served in Tikrit. It breaks my heart to see these young boys and girls going off to risk their lives in a desert country halfway across the world. Each and every time I see one of our soldiers in uniform, I want to run up and hug them to thank them for their service. They are far braver than I, and deserve so much more gratitude than they will ever receive.

Random hugging, obviously, is relatively inappropriate in the grand scheme of things. But a friend sent me this link today, and it made me cry just a little. It may not always be the way to go, but it's an idea.

Thank them, my friends.