And So It Ends...For Now

We’re now two days removed from the whoopee-cushion close of the Washington Capitals participation in the NHL post-season. I watched the game in the red shirt that I swore had brought us luck in Monday’s Game 6, watched as the eardrum-shattering roar that welcomed the boys onto the ice dwindled to a half-hearted clap-along with the stock arena music, watched as my beloved Caps were soundly spanked on a Wednesday night in Washington. It was a sorry thing.

If I’m honest, I’ll cop to it that I knew in my heart we weren’t going to see Round 3 this year. I hoped it, oh yes, but I knew otherwise. I just wish we had gone down swinging. As Buce Boudreau (I’ve redesigned his first name for easier pronunciation) said, “Whether we won or lost, I would never have thought it would have ended up in a game like it was tonight.” You couldn’t blame the officials – they were more judicious in their calls than I’d seen them in the entirety of the Playoffs, and we earned pretty much everything we were whistled for on Wednesday (I doubt the high-stick was intentional, but it was in fact a high stick and it did in fact catch a Penguin’s face). You couldn’t blame the ice – Verizon Center is infamous for its crappy ice and yet we dazzled crowds in both the regular and post season in spite of it. You couldn’t blame any one player – Varly collapsed, yes, but he’s also a 21-year-old rookie goalie who, until Game 2 of Round 1, was playing for the farm team and, in spite of his minimal NHL experience, managed to shock and awe us into believing from the moment he made his first block, so you can’t say the kid didn’t put on a show (besides, Theo let still two more go past him when they sent him back out). Only the team as a unit could be prosecuted for sleepwalking and fearing the puck.

That said, it’s a guarantee that even the Stanley Cup winners, whoever they may be, pulled a lemon at least a few times over the course of the season. Winning or not, the Caps gave us 13 edge-of-your-seat, down-to-the-wire, tooth-and-nail playoff games, 9 of which were decided by exactly 1 point (and of which, 3 of those were pushed into sudden-death overtime). The 14th game was a dud, yes, but it was A dud. The Penguins outplayed us. We very simply weren’t ready to progress. I can forgive the Capitals for that. I’m even a tiny bit glad it’s all over, as my blood pressure and anxiety can return to normal, my stomach can stop churning, my nails can grow back out, and I will suddenly have a glut of time on weeknights with which to punish Netflix for thinking it could make money by having me as a member.

The Caps have made unbelievably huge strides in the past season-and-a-half, compared to where they were in the beginning of 2007. I am immensely proud of them for that, and you'll catch me proudly donning my old-school Number 8 sweater to the Phone Booth as often as Husband can stand to take me next year. I think we can expect great things from the Caps in the coming years, and I can’t wait to see it.

The Break Up

I just do not learn. How many times do I get burned and yet I go back? Does some strange, warped part of my withered raisin of a brain believe that, maybe this time, we can make this relationship work? That it won't happen again? That it will all be worth it? That I won't feel so cheap and cheated?

Fear not, Husband and I are great. I'm referring to my nearly decade-long love/hate relationship with Newport News.

I freely admit that I am stingy with myself and I am lazy and my tendency is toward that of a hermit. All of these factors contribute to my abhorrence of going to the mall to spend untold quantities of money on things I likely won't be wearing in 6 months, and that's IF the crappy lighting and scary mirrors and nasty dressing rooms don't reinforce my countless body issues and result in me sprinting back to my car, sobbing like a teenaged girl who didn't make the cheerleading squad. Thus, I am oft tempted by the siren song of catalog and Internet shopping. What's this? I can stay seated in jeans and a sloppy sweatshirt, paging through stacks and stacks of fashion-rag approved yet affordable items, selecting colors and styles at whim, and that these finds will be brought to me practically on a silver platter? Let me just get my card...

Newport and I have had some good times. I remain devoted to their 3 1/2" pumps, especially in my beloved charcoal gray, although I will admit some difficulty with the sizing these days (do they make a size 8 3/4? Because that would be sweet!) I receive nothing but compliments on the black maillot swimsuit I ordered six years ago and that they don't sell anymore. I sincerely love my gold and onyx earrings. And their semiweekly catalogs offer endless chuckles - especially from their Together line.

But oh, we have had our bad times as well.

I offer you Exhibit A, the two-piece suit (dress and jacket) I bought in 2002, which arrived with a shapeless nothing of a shift that was supposed to be the dress, and a jacket with one arm a solid two inches shorter than the other.

I offer you Exhibit B, the red lace stretch camisole (lined, Mom) I bought in 2008... that arrived with one strap sewn on twisted. No, seriously, after attaching the first side of the left strap, the seamstress accidentally twisted the strap before anchoring the other side; in other words, I have no way to untwist it without disassembling the entire upper seam.

And I offer you Exhibit C, my very first Rosie post.

I've tried to break up with Newport before. I thought they'd get the hint when I even cancelled my Club Membership. (To become a Club member, you pay $25 up front, then for the succeeding 12 months, you receive 10% off each purchase. If, over the course of those 12 months, you do not save a net minimum of $25 - thus saving you back your buy-in price - Newport sends you a store credit for the remainder, valid for a year from the time of award. This sounds like a no-lose plan, but counts on you being able to find anything to spend that store credit on within that year. Sometimes you have to push yourself and you end up with more returns.)

Yet through it all, my denial is strong and my will power and checkbook weak, and I come crawling back to order yet another disappointment. It happened again just last week.

Husband and I will be celebrating our fourth anniversary at a resort in Jamaica from May 16 to May 23, and the resort requires patrons to dress up a little for dinner at the nicer restaurants. Thus, I need an army of pretty warm-weather dresses, and my go-to wedding attire is just a little too fancy. Thus I found and ordered the pretty outfit at right.

Tropical, flowy, resort-y, downright pretty. The waist is low enough to not effect hippo-hips, the bodice tight enough that I won't have to worry about showing more than I ought, the skirt is graceful yet hemmed high enough for beach walking, and the colors bold enough to contrast well with my pasty complexion.

I knew it Newport! I knew you'd come through for me! I knew I could count on you! You won't let me down this time!

Feeling all was right with the world, I also ordered a red stone necklace much like that in the picture, some hot pink strappy wedges, and a pretty green/blue/violet swimsuit.

I know I'm probably setting myself up for a crash with that swimsuit because there is no way in hell anyone would mistake my figure for that of the lovely Yamila Diaz there, but hope springs eternal.

I received a shipment notice earlier this week, indicating the sandals and the necklace were being shipped and that the swimsuit and dress were slightly backordered. No biggie, they often backorder things at Newport.

I received the shipped items on Tuesday, and inexplicably, that sinking feeling I often get when their gray plastic bag shows up at my door returned. I didn't even open it until Wednesday, perhaps subconsciously trying to stave off what I've come to recognize as impending disappointment. It arrived nonetheless. The necklace was entirely too long and too heavy and looked way cheap. I guess you get what you pay for, and I've always had issues with dimensional perception, so I have no one to blame but myself for the length problem.

But as ever with their shipments, they included a solid pound of additional Newport catalogs, featuring on the cover the Dress of High Hopes. I was about to throw them away when something caught my eye and caused me to look just a little closer... In disbelief, I paged quickly to the product description. My fears were confirmed.

This is what I saw:

No, no, that is not a glitch in the graphic, or an optical illusion caused by the bold pattern.

That, my Rosie fans, is a PATCH POCKET! On a FLOWY SKIRT! What reason could there possibly be to place POCKETS on a FLOWY SKIRT!? WHAT COULD ANYONE IN THIS DRESS POSSIBLY NEED SO DESPERATELY TO CARRY THAT IT SEEMED CROMULENT TO INCLUDE BIG AWKWARD PATCH POCKETS?

The illusion is shattered. Suddenly the dress has become the upsetting love child of Carmen Miranda's closet and an apron. Disgusted, I looked up my order summary, intent on cancelling the dress before anyone wasted postage on it. Since it was backordered, I could probably head it off. It's a good thing I checked: "BACKORDERED. EXPECTED TO SHIP MAY 23."

That's right. It wouldn't even ship until after we returned from the vacation for which I had ordered the dress in the first place. What others have pointed out to me, and what I find even more disturbing than this latest heartache, is that the fact that the dress is backordered at all means that so many women were similarly duped by the Patch Pocket Dress that Newport actually ran through its entire stock.

So Newport, we need to Talk. I'm breaking up with you. It's not you, it's me. ... Okay, it's you. We're through, once and for all. Send me my guaranteed-to-disappoint swimsuit so that I can send it back with the necklace and maybe the sandals. I'm not angry, just sad. We can still be friends. I know you'll keep sending me catalogs in hopes that I'll forget again. And I can't swear I'll never buy another pair of your pumps or earrings. But never again shall your synthetics hang awkwardly from my frame or display VPL for the world to see. It's time. Goodbye.

Bet You Didn't Know

As if you needed another reason to buy foreign!

According to Vocabula Amatoria, by John Farmer, 1896,
the definition of "corvette" is "a young sodomite."


Admit it - you always thought Ken was a little fruity.

It's A Major Award!

I won something! I seriously won something! I never win anything!

In what I normally consider a Crappy Team Meeting, I was called up to the front of the class and bestowed with a Performance and Team Award "in recognition of [my] exceptional and on-going efforts to ensure the Program is seen as the model for high-quality products and timely delivery." The neat thing is, if I do my job right, my efforts are supposed to be invisible to the client, so I never expect recognition, which is why it's exciting to me now.

I rule!

I also received a teeny gold plastic mini-trophy and cold, hard American Express Gift Cheques.

This is a red letter day!

Musings on Politics and the Economy

I know I've been sparse in my current events-related postings of late. It's partially because I've been a bit self-absorbed with my moods and my interpersonal relationships. And it's mostly due to the fact that the news and current events have been bad, worse, and worst. So bad, in fact, that I don't even feel the need to do a quick overview because seriously, pick a topic, here's the summary: BAD. I don't even want to educate myself on how bad, or to what extent, or the on the details of the actions we're chancing to fix the situation because it is just... oppressive. After two or three paragraphs of negativity, you lose the energy to keep reading. Really, it makes me sad.

This is the topic on which I found myself musing last night as I tried to fall asleep after going to bed an hour early. (Thanks daylight time switch!)

The economy sucks and I'm not positive that the moves we're making now to rectify the situation are the right ones. But is that because they're not the right ones or is it because I know jack about economics?

Is it because my politics are changing or is it because I'm surrounded largely by people with conservative opinions and am being bombarded with their vitriolic rebukes of the present path and assignments of blame? Would I feel better about it if similarly vocal liberals were around me to balance the equation? Are liberals happy (or at least, secure) in the present path? Do they believe that these moves will eventually be our saving grace, given the length of time economies tend to require in order to move? Or do they have their doubts too?

Are we even qualified to make determinations about it? According to the news media, the economy is in its worst state since the 1982 recession. Do you remember the 1982 recession? I don't. In fact, in 1982, I didn't even know what money WAS. (Ah, to go back!) What moves did we use to get out of that? And considering the fallout over the ensuing 27 years, do we even want to repeat those moves? Do we need a whole new choreography? How do we know we're making the right decisions and taking the right actions?

It seems to me that politics and economics consist largely of trial-and-error actions. Is that any way to run a country? On the other hand, what choice do we really have?

This is Why People Contemplate Suicide

For about two weeks now, with a few blessed breaks (also known as "sleep"), I have had Spice Girls songs cycling through my head.

Let me say that again, in case you skimmed and didn't really get the full effect of the horror.

For two weeks.

I have been suffering through.

An almost endless cycle.

Of the Spice Girls.



The Spice Girls.

THE FREAKING SPICE GIRLS!!!

I didn't even like them when they were popular! And I passionately hate txt-speak, which makes it that much more painful that the primary culprit has been - kid you not - "2 Become 1." Vomit. Occasionally, they have chosen to torment me instead with...shudder... "Spice Up Your Life."

This is the sort of thing that pushes people to jump off of bridges, or walk in front of a bus. Unfortunately for me, the suburbs do not offer much in the way of bridges (overpasses will only leave you mangled) and it would be my luck that the DC Metrobus would manage to swerve out of the way in time to miss me, while taking out that nice humanitarian on the sidewalk.

I would ask that you pity me. But instead - admit it - it's happened to you too. Feel free to join me in my personal hell. It's been a little lonely in here.

It's a Blogthings Extravaganza!!

I have nothing to do today. No revisions, no document prep, nothing. I guess I technically *COULD* start flipping through our template stockpile and determining which were duplicates and/or outdated and/or don't serve a purpose anymore. Then again, I *COULD* also spin around in my chair until I throw up. Besides, the contract is up for rebid and we may not get it, so killing time on that may be a wasted effort, on top of which, it will take me all of one hour to do the whole task, so there's no rush.

I tried killing time on Wikipedia, but even the Random Article link let me down on my interest-engaging mission. So instead, I'm playing around on Blogthings and frankly having too much fun learning arbitrary and meaningless things about myself. As a giver, I feel the need to share all my results. So today, Rosie-fans, I present to you:

!!!THE BLOGTHINGS EXTRAVAGANZA!!!

As a Keyboard Key:

You Are "Tab"

Some people might try to say that you're always spaced out. You do tend to be a dreamer, but you're also a great multitasker. You work quickly and efficiently. So it's no problem if you goof off a little while you're working. And if people want to think you're flaky, that's fine. You're getting more done than they are.

What Keyboard Key Are You?

As an Aphrodisiac:

You Are Vanilla

You are incredibly sexy and sensual - yet still sweet and innocent. You have an exotic, mysterious vibe. You leave people wanting to know more. You know how to make lovers relax, calm down, and be vulnerable. You draw people in and make them addicted to you. You're a lot more potent than people think.

What Aphrodisiac Are You?

In a past life:

You Were a Skunk

You carry yourself with sensuality and a flowing energy. You have a great reputation, and you follow your own (good) advice.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

My Friendship Style is:

Your Friendship Style is Independent

You love your friends, but you don't always need them as much as they need you. You like to do your own thing. Sometimes this means taking a break from your friends and carving your own path. As long as your friends give you the space you need, you are happy to be there for them whenever you can. Your friends lean on you for advice and problem solving. You tend to be "the rock." You and an Empathetic Friend: Go well together. Your Empathetic Friend understand and accepts you... but may be too needy sometimes. You and a Gregarious Friend: Get along well, as long as your Gregarious Friend is happy to only see you occasionally. You and another Independent Friend: Have a love/hate thing going on. When you agree, things are blissful. However, more often than not, you butt heads. You and a Philosophical Friend: Are somewhat a matter of opposites attract. You're both thinkers, but you think very differently.

What's Your Friendship Style?

As an Office Supply:

You Are a Red Pen

You have an eagle eye for detail, which often means you end up finding mistakes in people's work. You may seem quick to criticize or correct, but you think accuracy and truth is important. You like to be involved in every project. You feel like you put the polishing touch on things. You would make a good editor, detective, or accountant. When facts matter, you're the person to call on.

What Office Supply Are You?

My Communication Style:

You Communicate Honestly

You don't mince words. You are to the point and all about the facts. However, you are charming enough to tell people the truth yet still not offend them. It's likely that you have a hilarious, no holds barred sense of humor. And you sure tell an entertaining story! You're also quite open. People can ask you anything, and you don't shy away from controversial conversation topics.

What Kind of Communicator Are You?

As an Ice Cream Flavor (you keep your Wayne's World lines to yourselves!):

You Are A Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream Girl

Creative. Expressive. Unique.

What Flavor Ice Cream Girl Are You?

Rosie Turns 100!!

That's right everyone! This is my 100th post, and it's all because of your love and support and viable literacy! I can't thank you enough! I'd also like to thank Blogger for hosting my aimless ramblings for almost two years now.

In honor of this momentous occasion, I am posting not about news or celebs or the other oddities that cross my plane of existence. No, I write instead pure fluff and nonsense. I have found a series of 100 random questions on some random website that I will answer for your entertainment and amusement. Hopefully. I tend to answer honestly and that doesn't always equal funny. So here's hoping that this isn't boring.

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 4.

"It was forbidden in his home, and he appreciated it as though it were his own private discovery." - D. Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day (I swear the context is G-rated! He's talking about his father's love of jazz music!)

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can, What can you touch?

My office desk, my day planner, my company portfolio, an empty soda can, my wallet, a penny, a stack of homeless papers, my water bottle, some post-it notes, lip balm, my coffee (tea) mug, pens in my pen cup, a legal pad, a steno pad, my book, various bottles of hand lotion, my wedding picture, a bottle of spray-in conditioner, and a leftover baby shower invitation.

3. Before you started this survey, what were you doing?

Reviewing a document.

4. What is the last thing you watched on TV?

I'm bypassing Holly Morris's obnoxious face because her very existence makes me angry and instead answering Lie to Me on Fox. (Tim Roth rules! Though I suspect he's playing House without the limp or the M.D.)

5. Without looking, guess what time it is.

9:20 a.m.

6. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?

9:42 a.m. (Explains a lot about my promptness, yes?)

7. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

The HVAC system, and loud coworkers in the hall.

8. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?

I was walking from my car in the parking garage to my office building.

9. Did you dream last night?

I'm pretty sure I did.

10. Do you remember your dreams?

Sometimes.

11. When did you last laugh?

This morning.

12. Do you remember why / at what?

My cat was being ridiculous, as she often is in the morning.

13. What is on the walls of the room you are in?

Photos of my cat, Husband, Niece, a 2009 mini-calendar, my boss's business card, an outdated team contact list, a questionable responsibility matrix, a staple remover, a post-it with the voicemail number and my PIN (it's coded), and a list of things I need to do every day before I leavethe office (if you forget to put out your trash can, yesterday's lunch can be...pungent; they send nastygrams to you and your boss if you forget to do your timesheet every day...)

14. Seen anything weird lately?

Always.

15. What do you think of this quiz?

It had great potential, but the fact that I'm completing it at the office is drawing down the interest factor. I may do it again at home in hopes of better answers.

16. What is the last film you saw?

Oh good lord. I have no idea. I'm going to go with How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the good one, not the Jim Carrey one) when I was trying to drag myself out of my Humbuggy funk.

17. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

Tough call, because my experience is sorely limited. The sad truth is that I'd probably live in Virginia still, but farther out in the more rural areas so people won't bug me.

18. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?

A non-town house.

19. Share something about you that most people don't know.

As much as I love to eat, my senses of smell and taste are pretty weak.

20. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?

Eliminate organized religion. While I respect people's need to believe in SOMEthing, the minute you throw rituals into it, you're going to have trouble. People in Northern Ireland are killing each other over a difference in the way they perform the same religion. Jews and Christians and Muslims and whoall else have killed each other for millenia because their version of monotheism is better than your version of monotheism, which confuses me because if there's only one god, then aren't you all worshipping the same being under different names? (And yes, I know there's been a fair amount of property dispute at the root of it, but still.)

21. Do you like to dance?

Yes. Other people don't like it so much when I do, though!

22. Would you ever consider living abroad?

Sure. What kind of question is this?

23. Does your name make any interesting anagrams?

Not really.

24. Who made the last incoming call on your phone?

House phone: Graphics Lab. (We don't know either.)
Cell phone: Husband.
Work phone: Ha! Trick question - no one calls me here!

25. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer?

Sorry to disappoint, folks. It's either the Amazon Universal Wish List button, or an update to WinZip.

26. Last time you swam in a pool?

"Swam" isn't entirely accurate. "Flopped around like a breaching whale" is closer to the truth. This summer, to just answer the question.

27. Type of music you like most?

Ooh... I'm going to go with the various shades of Rock.

28. Type of music you dislike most?

Rap. Hands down.

29. Are you listening to music right now?

No.

30. What color is your bedroom carpet?

Beige, just like everybody else.

31. If you could change something about your home, without worry about expense or mess, what would you do?

And it has to be this house? Gut the kitchen, I suppose. New floors, new stove, new counters, new paint, better storage.

32. What was the last thing you bought?

A book of instructions on making crocheted snowflakes. Now all I need to do is learn to crochet.

33. Have you ever ridden on a motorbike?

NOOOOOOOOO!

34. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?

Unlikely, but I think I'd be more inclined to sky diving because at least the view is pretty and there's less blood rush to the head. Besides, you have to be a special kind of crazy to voluntarily jump off a bridge with a rubber band tied around your ankles.

35. Do you have a garden?

Yes.

36. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem?

I do.

37. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning?

HUNGRY!

38. If you could eat lunch with one famous person, who would it be?

Now see this is tricky. I never went in for those contests where you get to have lunch or spend a day around a celebrity. What am I going to talk about? Celebrity gossip? But since I'm being a good sport today, I'll go with Anne Hathaway for the out-and-out famous because I love her - as long as she doesn't get preachy about her vegetarianism. Otherwise, Brad Meltzer for the sorta-famous because the punk is living the life I should have and I want him to tell me how he does his research.

39. Who sent the last text message you received?

I can almost guarantee it was Julie! (What? You text a lot!)

40. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?

Amazon, but that's not really a store. I'd say Ann Taylor Loft, but their styles are kind of hit-or-miss and I'd find it hard to max out in one go. Same deal with a kitchen store like Williams-Sonoma - I know their stuff is overpriced and I don't have storage for a lot of it, so I'd have issues with that. Maybe a furniture store, since I could max out in one trip, but our current furniture is functional and we have nowhere to put new things.

41. What time is bed time?

Most weekdays, 10:30 p.m.

42. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant?

No. When I was about 10 or 12, I took a notion that I wanted to be in one and asked Mom if I could. Mom tactfully hedged, and I didn't even notice when the deadline for registration passed without my name gracing the roster. This was definitely for my own good. Beauty pageants by their very definition invite people to rate you based on looks and whatever outward talent you can display in a 60-second span, which is doubly hard to the psyche at such an extremely vulnerable point in a girl's development and at that point can only place even more weight on judging the quality of one's physical appearance than is unfortunately normal during adolescence, which leads to eating disorders and self-hatred. Furthermore, I have stage fright, no outward talents, and my body type tends to be of the sort to withstand hard work and harsh winters but doesn't often stack up well against Little Miss Naturally Svelte.

However, I recognize that I am not possessed of such tact, so when the time comes for my daughter to ask me such a question, I only hope I don't laugh in her face, coughing out "No way!" between cackles.

43. How many tattoos do you have?

None.

44. If you don't have any, have you ever thought of getting one?

Thought about it, but couldn't commit.

45. What did you do for your last birthday?

I think Husband and I just stayed in.

46. Do you carry a donor card?

Yes.

47. Who was the last person you ate dinner with?

Husband.

48. Is the glass half empty or half full?

Half-empty. Why would you only fill it halfway?

49. What's the farthest-away place you've been?

Honolulu, Hawaii.

50. When's the last time you ate a homegrown tomato?

One that I/my family grew? Probably when I was 14. One that *someone* grew? Maybe 2007.

51. Have you ever won a trophy?

No, but I got a second-place ribbon on Field Day in 2nd grade for running bases, and a third-place ribbon for, I think, high jump. Which is odd because the last time I tried to do high-jump, I made such an uncoordinated mess of it that I couldn't get out of the mat, I was laughing so hard.

52. Are you a good cook?

I think so.

53. Do you know how to pump your own gas?

Did someone from NJ write this quiz? Yes, of course I know how to pump my own gas.

54. If you could meet any one person (from history or currently alive), who would it be?

Catherine II of Russia (before she went all paranoid), Elizabeth I of England, or Eleanor of Aquitaine. Only thing is, I would want to meet them as equals and I don't think any of them would particularly allow that.

55. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school?

No.

56. Do you touch-type?

Yes.

57. What's under your bed?

A rabid tribe of dust bunnies, and the under-bed storage box where we keep our comforter in the summer.

58. Do you believe in love at first sight?

No.

59. Think fast, what do you like right now?

That it's sunny and that the local schools had a 2-hour delay today, making my commute a breeze.

60. Where were you on Valentine's day?

Which year? I was at home last year.

61. What time do you get up?

Weekdays, 5:45-5:55 a.m. Weekends and other days when I get up of my own accord, 8:30 a.m.

62. What was the name of your first pet?

There were two: Sneaky, and Pancake.

63. Who is the second to last person to call you?

Home? Graphics Lab. (They call a lot.)
Cell: Um... probably Julie.
Work: Ha! No one calls here! But, probably Husband.

64. Is there anything going on this weekend?

SUPER BOWL!

65. How are you feeling right now?

Hungry. A little light congestion still in the chest. My toes are a bit pinched. Emotionally stable. Otherwise, fine.

66. What do you think about the most?

Money.

67. Favorite non-alcoholic drink? (Stolen from the random website's other quiz because the original was a repeat question.)

Diet Coke.

68. If you had A Big Win in the Lottery, how long would you wait to tell people?

Until after I'd met with an attorney, financial planner, and the lottery committee. And moved to Montana where y'all can't get your hands on my CASH!

69. Who would you tell first?

Um, Husband? Oh, right, he's in Montana with me. Probably Mom.

70. What is the last movie that you saw at the cinema?

I... think it was Hancock.

71. Do you sing in the shower?

Only if I'm positive no one else is around.

72. Do you eat the stems of broccoli? (Again, stolen from the random website's other quiz because the original was a repeat question.)

Yes. Husband makes a good stir-fry with them.

73. What do you do most when you are bored?

Turn on the TV to a station that usually doesn't annoy me, or wander aimlessly around the house looking for something to do.

74. What do you do for a living?

Technical Writing.

75. Do you love your job?

Love is a strong word. I don't know anyone who loves their job. But I don't hate it and they keep giving me money.

76. What did you want to be when you grew up?

Author.

77. If you could have any job, what would you want to do/be?

Well-respected published author.

78. Which came first the chicken or the egg?

The egg.

79. How many keys on your key ring?

Four, I think.

80. Where would you retire to?

Somewhere in Virginia. Seriously, this place is pretty great. No earthquakes. No landslides. No volcanoes ready to blow. No hurricanes. Tornadoes and flooding aren't really problems. Four seasons. Temperate climate. Mild winters. Summers aren't bad once you get out of DC or Tidewater. Mountains and beaches only a couple of hours' drive either way.

81. What kind of car do you drive?

Honda Civic.

82. What are your best physical features?

I have a good smile, good teeth, and nice eyes. People seem to like my hair, but it's pissing me off right now between the static and general unruliness.

83. What are your best characteristics?

Genuinely nice personality, lots of empathy, and I'm always looking for a laugh.

84. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation where would you go?

Extended tour of Europe!

85. What kind of books do you like to read?

Lately I'm on a comedy kick, but fiction takes up most of my bookshelves, with some historical/biographical work thrown in.

86. What is your zodicac sign? (Yet again, stolen randomly from the random website's other quiz because the original was a repeat question.)

By birthdate, I'm a Leo. By personality, I'm a Cancer.

87. What is your favorite time of the day?

Afternoon, I think. The light is nice and I'm most productive in the afternoon.

88. Where did you grow up?

Northern Virginia.

89. How far away from your birthplace do you live now?

About 10 miles.

90. What are you reading now?

Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris. Reflections in a Jaundiced Eye, by Florence King. We Thought You Would Be Prettier, by Laurie Notaro. And I'm still trying to get through Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen.

91. Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Night Owl, though I can't stay up like I used to.

92. Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

No.

93. Can you close your eyes and raise your eyebrows?

Yes. Can anyone not do this?

94. Do you have pets?

I have a very silly cat.

95. How many rings before you answer the phone?

Depends on how far away it is and how fast Caller ID registers.

96. What is your best childhood memory?

I liked climbing the trees in my grandparents' backyard when I was small, and popping the seed pods on Grandma's impatiens. I can't pinpoint one memory in particular.

97. What are some of the different jobs that you have had in your life?

Lawn jockey, babysitter, chicken slinger, salad artist, cashier, file clerk, temp, intern, food court server (worked the lines; did not cook the food), minute taker (blech!), document manager, and technical writer.

98. Any new and exciting things that you would like to share?

Husband and I thwarted a nasty group of credit card thieves! Well, at least as far as our account was concerned.

99. What is most important in life?

Being content with yourself and liking who you are as a person.

100. What Inspires You?

Passion, joy, laughter.

Simple Gifts

I was proud and exhilirated today to witness an historic moment in American history. At 12 p.m. EST, I watched as Barack Obama, our nation's 44th, and first African American, president took the oath of office in 25-degree weather before a crowd of people so thick you could not see the grass on the entirety of the National Mall. I thought the classical arrangement of Simple Gifts was beautiful and moving, I smiled as our new president endearingly flubbed his lines (you'd be nervous too if you were being entrusted with leadership of this magnitude!), and I found his speech poignant, insightful, and inspiring.

But something troubles me now as it did during the election.

While I feel that Mr. Obama engenders the kind of optimism, forward-looking, and re-dedication that this country so needs right now, he is not the answer to all our problems and I feel it is a disservice to the man to consider him so.

I offer you an excerpt from Eavesdrop DC, a blog similar to Overheard in the Office in which random people submit bits of conversations they happened to overhear while traveling around Capital City:

"Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Overheard while transferring from ridiculously crowded Red Line train to ridiculously crowded Yellow Line train at China Town
Woman One: Dammmnnn girl! This Metro so damn c-rowded!
Woman Two: Shit yeah. Too many people here.
Woman One: Don’t worry, Obama gonna take care of that."

Seriously? I've heard other similar statements both personally and in print.

During and since the election, it seems people have looked upon him and treated him almost as the coming of the messiah. He is seen as the dawning of a Utopia, a right to all wrongs, the bringer of a harmonious society. They have painted a masterpiece-worthy image of him in their mind, and I'm sorry to break it to them, but no one can live up to that hype. That is an enormous amount of pressure to put on a person, and he will be under a level of scrutiny that would make even the most papparazzo-pestered starlet cringe on his behalf. His election was not a miracle, as some have called it; it was a reasoned act by people of all races of this country. The result will not be perfect. And there will be a lot of disappointed people when that becomes apparent.

The ugly truth: Obama will make mistakes. Obama will stumble through more than his oath of office. Obama will fail to deliver on some of his campaign promises. Obama will emerge as a fallible human being. Because he IS a fallible human being and he doesn't have all the answers, nor does he have a magic wand that he will wave and make our financial, international, and energy woes disappear. He's just a good person trying to do his best to lead his country in the direction he sees as the safest and most prosperous. And in that, the man has my gratitude, my respect, my faith, and my trust.

So on this momentous day, I say let us be grateful for the simple gifts of watching history made and observing the manifestation of Dr. King's dream, and let us look ahead on this new day with hope in our hearts and both eyes open.

2008 Holiday Recap

Or, Adventures in Asshattery.

I know this is late, but I needed some distance from the last part. Also, this holiday required more running around than normal, and was followed up so closely by big events in friends' lives and actual real live work that this is the first time I've been able to sit down and put something together.

Overall, this holiday followed suit with the preceding 11 months and 24 days. It was a dud. The gifts were lovely; don't think me that ungrateful. But all furniture remained intact, all food was thoroughly cooked, demonstrable alcoholism was kept to a minimum, and family feuds merely sparked but did not rage.

Yet through all this, a hero emerged, bearing the mantle of Instigator, and shouldering the heavy burden of discomfiting the lot of us at every turn. The hero of whom I write is, as you may expect, my father.

By now, my faithful Rosie-fans are familiar with the semi-standard Holiday Pilgrimage. Christmas Eve with Dad&Co, Christmas Day with InLaws, Day After with Mom&Co. Usually, I am in contact with Dad at some point in early to mid-December, finalizing plans, determining expected dress code, and finding out what we can bring. However, 2008 threw us a loop.

Let me backup. This has to start back in October for the true effect to be made clear.

In mid-October, Dad wrote, asking if we could get together for dinner “so I have a chance to refresh my memory of what you two look like.” (Passiveaggressivesayswhat?) So I wrote him back, proposing dates on which we were free within the week and actual restaurants depending on whether he was coming from home or the office, to prove that we were serious about getting together (it has come up before). And I heard nothing. And nothing. The dates passed. Still nothing. I realized in time that nothing was coming, but knowing that we had made the last volley, I decided that it was his turn to reply and left it at that.

Now it’s November. Still nothing. He probably forgot and is too busy flying around to all his Very Important clients. Now it’s Thanksgiving. Still nothing. Not even a Happy Thanksgiving call, email, or text message. I know a card is beyond him.

Now it’s December. I get off my high horse and reach out by way of a Christmas card (the only one he received, as I understand).

And nothing.

And nothing.

And now it’s December 23. For several days, I’ve been saying that if he doesn’t call, we’re just not going. And I stomp around in a stew of self-righteousness (and I still know I was right in that determination, for what it’s worth) insisting loudly to no one that he’s cutting it awfully close. But Husband apparently inherited his mother’s need to bend over backwards in pursuit of family harmony and encouraged me to be the Mature One and call him. After more stomping around and railing at no one, I break down and do so. It’s 6pm on December 23, so I call his cell phone and his house phone and leave messages on both. Sister, Niece, and Sister’s Fiancé were all supposed to be there, so maybe they’re out seeing the sites of DC or at a nice dinner somewhere. They’ll call back and we’ll have a forced laugh.

And now it’s December 24, the day on which we are supposed to go to Dad’s. But I haven’t heard a peep out of him since mid-October. There certainly has been no invitation to Christmas Eve, no discussion of appropriate garb, and no suggestions of something I can bring to help out. I call again at 10 am – cell phone and house phone, but I know he has no cell reception to speak of and a questionable house line, so I also email both his home and work email addresses because even if his phone lines aren’t working, I know his email does.

And now it’s noon on December 24. And nothing. Now I’m not just bemused. I’m pissed off. Granted, my self-righteousness has been in overdrive, waxing poetic at the possibility of Best Christmas Ever (namely one in which we don’t go over to Dad’s on Christmas Eve and instead get to relax at home with the glow of the tree and a glass of good wine) and threatening to just not go and not try again since the man is an adult and needs to understand that inaction has its consequences as well. But my stubborn sense of What Is Right is simultaneously all up in a flutter over either being snubbed or outright forgotten. So I make one last round of calls to his cell phone, his house phone, and this time also to his work phone. No answer on any of the above. On each voicemail, I try to keep my voice light, but I do inform him that if we do not hear back by 2pm, we’re going to assume we are not invited this year and that we will make alternate plans. I email him this same information, again to both addresses. I also call Sister’s cell phone and text her for good measure, figuring that I’ve covered all of my bases this time and that there is nothing more I can do.

And now it’s 2:30 pm on December 24. Torn between giddiness over having Christmas Eve the way *I* want to and the indignation over having been excluded and general frustration with the man-child, I stomp my way upstairs and take my shower, preparing to run to Giant to get stuff for dinner.

At 3pm, as I’m combing my hair out, the phone rings. It’s Dad. And he’s cheerful. And he wants to know what time we’re coming over tonight. It seems that he has not yet received any of my messages or emails; it's just the first time it has occurred to him to make this call. In spite of all the threats I've been making about telling him what to do with his Christmas Eve, I instead very tightly manage to tell him that we weren’t sure we were invited tonight and that Husband’s at work right now. Dad moans that he’s so sorry that we ever felt that way, that of course we’re invited, and that we should just come over whenever we can. I relay the message to Husband and we bandy about the prospect of showing up way late just to spite him, but we agree that, since Sister’s Fiancé is cooking, it’s not fair to spoil the meal that Fiancé worked hard to prepare (while also really meeting us for the first time) when we’re actually only mad at Dad. About this time, Dad calls back – what time does Husband get home, and can we make it by, say, 5:30? So much for "whenever we can."

We went, and the evening was actually rather pleasant. Dinner was delicious, everyone was civilized, and it was, frankly, the nicest Christmas Eve I've had in a number of years now. The moments of most discomfort occurred over Dad and AuntZ squabbling across the entire house (seriously, I could hear them on the second floor), and Dad imploring us to come a day early next year, complaining that he “doesn’t feel like he really *knows* us.”

A side note here – when my parents were still married, my father’s parents would plague my mother with this exact line every single time she came over. Never mind that, had they asked her a question, she would have answered. Never mind that we lived across the county, not across the country. So I found it inexplicably hilarious that Dad is now pulling the same line on me that used to drive Mom insane. Dad, maybe if you would email, or call, or actually see us instead of treating us like casual acquaintances (you know the type – you run into them and there is an exchange of “we should do lunch sometime,” but neither of you really mean it), you might “know us” better. Furthermore, I am staring 30 in the face. If you don’t know me by now, one extra night before a holiday (during which my Husband will almost certainly suffer an asthma attack due to the dust and dog dander, and will otherwise be generally congested and miserable the entire time) will not go a long way towards rectifying the situation.

But let us move on. When we returned from Richmond and finally had a moment to ourselves, I found a mass email from Dad in my inbox, generally saying Happy New Year and listing items that were found and probably belong to someone in the family. He also emailed me directly, apologizing again for the Fail and saying that we should get together in January for pizza at Fireworks. I made a point of writing a very nice thank you note to him, trying to show that there were no hard feelings over the Christmas Eve That Almost Wasn’t and agreeing that getting together for pizza would be a fine thing.

And nothing.

And nothing.

Until January 8. I received an email from Dad. Subject line: “Was that you?” I’ll include the entirety of the email here for your edutainment:

Hi Rosie,
There was a voice mail waiting for me. It contained what sounded like a "Rosie sigh".

That’s it. No prelude, no taper, no “Love, Dad” (just an office email signature), and certainly no explanation as to exactly what a Rosie Sigh is. It had a statement of fact, a statement of opinion, but no question or whathaveyou that would initiate action on my part. Did he just want to inform me? Or did he think his subject line was enough? Did the guy completely miss the section in 4th grade during which we learn how to frame a letter? Nevertheless, I wrote back when I received it (a couple of hours later), explaining that I haven’t called since Christmas Eve and that then I left a real voicemail, so it probably wasn’t me; hope that helps; ~Rosie.

His response, quoted in its entirety, beginning to end: Hmmm! In any case - thanks.

And that is the last I heard from him.