Once again the Veterans Committee for the National Baseball Hall of Fame voted and elected no one to the Hall of Fame. (Boy, am I glad that committee was formed!)
Once again Ron Santo just missed being able to write H.O.F. after his name.
He was 5 votes shy. 5 votes. If this were an US election, we would have requested a recall. Hell, we probably would've gotten a judge to deem him elected - even when the numbers didn't match.
But in baseball, numbers are everything and it seems that people are saying his numbers don’t add up.
I wonder about that. Here is a guy who played the game with his heart and soul. He had consistent career numbers and some banner years, including 5 Gold Gloves and 9 All-Star Team appearances.
He has devoted his life to not only the game, but also to bringing awareness to and raising money for an important cause - Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.
The fact that Santo played for the Cubs for 11 years before publicly disclosing that he had diabetes is amazing. The fact that he even played at all is inspiring.
It seems to me that Santo has the athletic story that we all love to embrace. He is a lovable guy, who lives and breathes the game and surmounts the challenges he faces with grace and dignity. He is approachable, emotional and devoted to the good will of the game.
And so, I wonder why baseball doesn’t want him. Why (once again) he was passed over?
Instead of celebrating, he will spend another summer answering questions about just missing the Hall. Of course, he will also be championing the Cubs (living and dying by their successes and failures) and his beloved JDRF.
And it will be a bittersweet summer, if you ask me, since this summer we will watch Barry Bonds break Hank Aaron’s Career Home Run record – ensuring his spot in the Hall of Fame.
Ironic. One man’s numbers aren’t enough and the other’s certainly shouldn’t add up.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
An offering to you
I went to church tonight for Ash Wednesday. I am not the best practicing Catholic and I sometimes feel that it is because I let things (crap, really) get in the way. Regardless, I try and keep Lent, because I think that it is the most important part of the Liturgical year. It is the time to refocus.
My friend and I went to services tonight. I was grateful that lightning didn't strike him down when we walked in to church. In all seriousness though, it was nice to have someone to sit next to during mass. And I liked being there. I liked the hour away from my petty problems. I liked the time to think about things.
The recessional was a song I remembered from my childhood. (20 years of Catholic School). The Ashes song. The church diva (a.k.a. song leader) read the number and page of the song and I chuckled a bit to myself, because I didn't need them. I knew the song by heart. And while singing it, I got the chills. All that I have been trying to do lately was outlined in the song. I can't explain it, but it moved me and brought me a bit of peace. And so, for no other reason than it is a good reminder, I am posting the lyrics to the song. Hopefully, by the end of Lent 2007, I will have found a way to turn the failed good and attempts and pain into an offering of something better.
1. We rise again from ashes, from the good we have failed to do. We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew. If all our world is ashes then must our lives be true, An offering of ashes, an offering to You.
2. We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts, The gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt. Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view, An offering of ashes, an offering to You.
3. Then rise again from ashes, let healing come to pain, Though spring has turned to winter, and sunshine turned to rain. The rain we'll use for growing, and create the world anew. From an offering of ashes, an offering to You.
My friend and I went to services tonight. I was grateful that lightning didn't strike him down when we walked in to church. In all seriousness though, it was nice to have someone to sit next to during mass. And I liked being there. I liked the hour away from my petty problems. I liked the time to think about things.
The recessional was a song I remembered from my childhood. (20 years of Catholic School). The Ashes song. The church diva (a.k.a. song leader) read the number and page of the song and I chuckled a bit to myself, because I didn't need them. I knew the song by heart. And while singing it, I got the chills. All that I have been trying to do lately was outlined in the song. I can't explain it, but it moved me and brought me a bit of peace. And so, for no other reason than it is a good reminder, I am posting the lyrics to the song. Hopefully, by the end of Lent 2007, I will have found a way to turn the failed good and attempts and pain into an offering of something better.
1. We rise again from ashes, from the good we have failed to do. We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew. If all our world is ashes then must our lives be true, An offering of ashes, an offering to You.
2. We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts, The gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt. Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view, An offering of ashes, an offering to You.
3. Then rise again from ashes, let healing come to pain, Though spring has turned to winter, and sunshine turned to rain. The rain we'll use for growing, and create the world anew. From an offering of ashes, an offering to You.
7 for the Price of 1
Lately, I have started many a blog in my head and then forgotten them. This has led to me creating a list. However, now that I write things down, I seem to be drowning in topics. So, here are a bunch of things on my mind (Richard Roeper-style):
· For the last few days, Chicago has been experiencing a heat wave (a.k.a temperatures above freezing – insert angelic singing here). It has not snowed in several days either. The reason for the Skilling-report? It amazes me how much snow and ice is still on people’s sidewalks. People, you have had a weekend. You have had weather that melts snow. What is the problem? It is totally annoying to have to climb ginormous ice mounds to get to the bus stop. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I was a mother with small children – especially a stroller. Kudos to those that braved the elements and shoveled and salted. I applaud you.
· I have been working pretty hard the last few weeks trying to meet some deadlines. Last week, after a particularly long workday, I was so focused on getting on the train and getting home that I forgot to swipe my Chicago Card and walked smack into the turnstile. Slightly embarrassing and completely funny at the same time. I turned to make fun of myself with someone and cracked the following joke with the girl loading up her fare card: ‘guess it helps if I actually swipe my card.’ Yeah, I know, totally lame. She politely fake-laughed. I swiped my card and went on with my night. Really wish that someone were there to share in the humor of that moment.
· A woman in Pennsylvania delivered her baby into her sweatpants. She said she didn’t know what was happening until the baby was in her pants leg. Really? Not having any kids and having heard crazier stories than this, I can give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, doctors thought my mom was a tumor for the first 6 or so months of my grandma’s pregnancy. But, this was her 4th pregnancy. I’m thinking by the 4th kid, you have to have figured out some of the warning signs. (Best statement I have heard on this topic included a recommendation for kegels [sidebar Nat] and avoiding skirts.)
· Britney Spears. Lord. A month ago, did anyone think that K-Fed would seem the most normal of the two? Flashing. Shearing. Rehabbing. She’s going off the deep end a bit. And where are the kids? While mommy is out shenaniganing, where are her kids? If you thought she was a questionable mother when she kept forgetting the whole child-safety seat thing, what about now?
· The first Sumatran Rhino born in captivity since 1889 just took a bit of a road trip from the Cincinnati Zoo to Indonesia. The purpose of the trip is for the rhino to meet a female rhino, fall in love, preserve the species and help it grow. And I thought my family put dating pressure on me.
· Heather Mills is competing on Dancing with Stars.
· Shout out to the Carson Pirie Scott on State Street. One more icon store bites the dust. Wonder when it is all said and done if State Street will still be a great street.
· For the last few days, Chicago has been experiencing a heat wave (a.k.a temperatures above freezing – insert angelic singing here). It has not snowed in several days either. The reason for the Skilling-report? It amazes me how much snow and ice is still on people’s sidewalks. People, you have had a weekend. You have had weather that melts snow. What is the problem? It is totally annoying to have to climb ginormous ice mounds to get to the bus stop. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I was a mother with small children – especially a stroller. Kudos to those that braved the elements and shoveled and salted. I applaud you.
· I have been working pretty hard the last few weeks trying to meet some deadlines. Last week, after a particularly long workday, I was so focused on getting on the train and getting home that I forgot to swipe my Chicago Card and walked smack into the turnstile. Slightly embarrassing and completely funny at the same time. I turned to make fun of myself with someone and cracked the following joke with the girl loading up her fare card: ‘guess it helps if I actually swipe my card.’ Yeah, I know, totally lame. She politely fake-laughed. I swiped my card and went on with my night. Really wish that someone were there to share in the humor of that moment.
· A woman in Pennsylvania delivered her baby into her sweatpants. She said she didn’t know what was happening until the baby was in her pants leg. Really? Not having any kids and having heard crazier stories than this, I can give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, doctors thought my mom was a tumor for the first 6 or so months of my grandma’s pregnancy. But, this was her 4th pregnancy. I’m thinking by the 4th kid, you have to have figured out some of the warning signs. (Best statement I have heard on this topic included a recommendation for kegels [sidebar Nat] and avoiding skirts.)
· Britney Spears. Lord. A month ago, did anyone think that K-Fed would seem the most normal of the two? Flashing. Shearing. Rehabbing. She’s going off the deep end a bit. And where are the kids? While mommy is out shenaniganing, where are her kids? If you thought she was a questionable mother when she kept forgetting the whole child-safety seat thing, what about now?
· The first Sumatran Rhino born in captivity since 1889 just took a bit of a road trip from the Cincinnati Zoo to Indonesia. The purpose of the trip is for the rhino to meet a female rhino, fall in love, preserve the species and help it grow. And I thought my family put dating pressure on me.
· Heather Mills is competing on Dancing with Stars.
· Shout out to the Carson Pirie Scott on State Street. One more icon store bites the dust. Wonder when it is all said and done if State Street will still be a great street.
In the darkest hour of the night, you find daylight
I was watching TV the other day and one of the characters had a “Live Like You Were Dying” list. It got me thinking about how often I say that is my philosophy. In high school, I wanted to YAWP along with the Dead Poet’s Society, suck the marrow out of life and carpe every diem.
In college, I was obsessed with this Irish Blessing:
May you work like you don't need the money,
Love like you've never been hurt, and
Dance like no one is watching.
Since Leon died, I have said time and again that I am won’t waste time. I won’t fear life. I won’t worry about pain and heartache. I was going to follow my heart, not my head. Tell those around me how I feel. Seize each moment and enjoy it.
Usually though, I am the over-thinker. The one who worries about hurting someone or being hurt. The one who analyzes every conversation and carefully words everything –even texts – for fear of saying the wrong thing.
I feel like every few months, I say that I am going to change. I say that I am going to attack the world and be brave. That I am going to trust myself and my feelings and risk being hurt, but then I always seem to hold myself back.
I got a little bit better when I turned 30. I let myself go a bit. Stopped worrying about public persona so much and started having fun. (I have Nat to thank for that.) That being said, I wouldn’t say that I am daring. Even in the year deemed “Go Bold or Go Cold,” I think that I have been wearing an extra sweater or two.
And now it is Ash Wednesday and you are wondering why that matters? But long ago a priest told me that Lent is about making a change in your life for the better. He said that for some people, that is giving something up, but it doesn’t have to be. (I like the way he thinks). He said that sometimes it is taking an hour each day and reading or reflecting or volunteering – something that has a positive impact on your life.
So for me, aside from meatless Fridays, trying to bring my lunch / workout few times a week and giving up my snooze button (more on that later), I am going to be bolder. I am going to approach someone who intrigues me without worry of rejection, because rejection happens sometimes. I am going to not put myself down in light of a compliment, because I think that I am a pretty good person and deserving of kind words. I am going to be honest with people, but be kind in my honesty. I am going to break the conventional rules of dating and male / female interaction and not worry about appropriate number of days and whatnot, because I believe that none of that matters if there is a mutual like involved.
I am also going to tell the guy that went MIA (in plain sight) that he doesn’t get to do that without knowing that it stings a bit. He doesn’t get to be off the hook that easily. He certainly doesn’t get to make me believe in his sincerity and then bail without notice. That is item # 1 on my Live Like You Were Dying list. What’s yours?
In college, I was obsessed with this Irish Blessing:
May you work like you don't need the money,
Love like you've never been hurt, and
Dance like no one is watching.
Since Leon died, I have said time and again that I am won’t waste time. I won’t fear life. I won’t worry about pain and heartache. I was going to follow my heart, not my head. Tell those around me how I feel. Seize each moment and enjoy it.
Usually though, I am the over-thinker. The one who worries about hurting someone or being hurt. The one who analyzes every conversation and carefully words everything –even texts – for fear of saying the wrong thing.
I feel like every few months, I say that I am going to change. I say that I am going to attack the world and be brave. That I am going to trust myself and my feelings and risk being hurt, but then I always seem to hold myself back.
I got a little bit better when I turned 30. I let myself go a bit. Stopped worrying about public persona so much and started having fun. (I have Nat to thank for that.) That being said, I wouldn’t say that I am daring. Even in the year deemed “Go Bold or Go Cold,” I think that I have been wearing an extra sweater or two.
And now it is Ash Wednesday and you are wondering why that matters? But long ago a priest told me that Lent is about making a change in your life for the better. He said that for some people, that is giving something up, but it doesn’t have to be. (I like the way he thinks). He said that sometimes it is taking an hour each day and reading or reflecting or volunteering – something that has a positive impact on your life.
So for me, aside from meatless Fridays, trying to bring my lunch / workout few times a week and giving up my snooze button (more on that later), I am going to be bolder. I am going to approach someone who intrigues me without worry of rejection, because rejection happens sometimes. I am going to not put myself down in light of a compliment, because I think that I am a pretty good person and deserving of kind words. I am going to be honest with people, but be kind in my honesty. I am going to break the conventional rules of dating and male / female interaction and not worry about appropriate number of days and whatnot, because I believe that none of that matters if there is a mutual like involved.
I am also going to tell the guy that went MIA (in plain sight) that he doesn’t get to do that without knowing that it stings a bit. He doesn’t get to be off the hook that easily. He certainly doesn’t get to make me believe in his sincerity and then bail without notice. That is item # 1 on my Live Like You Were Dying list. What’s yours?
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
On the Bayou
Just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Mardi Gras / Fat Tuesday! I am off to celebrate some hard work and the last night of freedom before Lent.
Monday, February 19, 2007
I've Built My World Around You
I just read that after tonight's episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, the show is going on an indefinite hiatus. In television speak, that's not good. This is strange and ironic, because it has only been within the last month or so that I have become a fan of the show. Which is even odder, since I was a huge advocate for it this summer.
Here's the back story: Netflix and Networks in their brilliance have been making pilots of shows available before they air. Such a smart tactic. I rented the pilot of Studio 60 this summer and was instantly obsessed. The pilot was so good. It was edgy and though-provoking and everything I loved about Sports Night and West Wing rolled into a new show with people that I love to watch - Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford, Timothy Busfield... I was excited for it to start. I even sent a note to all my Netflix friends to get them on board.
When the new television season started, I watched the first few episodes and then drifted away from it. It wasn't that it was bad, but I just wanted it to be more. Such a great cast, such a good writer and still, it seemed like it was missing something. I left it, which is sad, because I never abandon Matthew Perry, even when he is starring is such gems like Fools Rush In and Three to Tango.
Then, a miraculous thing happened...the Bears beat New Orleans, I had the Monday off (thank God) and my Tivo had recorded a Studio 60 marathon while I was watching the game. It seemed like destiny as I recline on my couch, nursing a hangover and catching up on Studio 60. It was like we had never parted and I reinvested myself into the show and began enjoying it. So much so, that I have looked forward to watching the new episode every week.
And, like so many things in my life, when I find myself enraptured by something, it is going away on indefinite hiatus. I'm not saying it is the greatest show ever. It needs work - it especially needs to stop beleaguering certain points. But, it is enjoyable. I like the cast. I like the banter between them - though Bradley Whitford is a bit of his West Wing character. (Quite frankly, that doesn't bother me too much, because I loved his West Wing character and I miss that show.) Maybe I am holding out hope that it will get better. Rationally, I know that Networks don't do that and they pull shows for less, but there is so much crappy tv on these days. I really wish that a miracle would happen. The show in one episode would get better, but I doubt that it will be the hail mary necessary.
And so it is going on indefinite hiatus. (Which really means it is off through the money-making part of the season and the un-aired episodes that are already paid for will get aired this summer - when barely anyone is watching). And I find that sad. Seems like good, intelligent shows get tossed or are in constant danger, while American Idol, Survivor, and even Rock Star: Whomever hold on season after season - well, maybe not Rock Star: Whomever, but you get the idea.
Here's the back story: Netflix and Networks in their brilliance have been making pilots of shows available before they air. Such a smart tactic. I rented the pilot of Studio 60 this summer and was instantly obsessed. The pilot was so good. It was edgy and though-provoking and everything I loved about Sports Night and West Wing rolled into a new show with people that I love to watch - Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford, Timothy Busfield... I was excited for it to start. I even sent a note to all my Netflix friends to get them on board.
When the new television season started, I watched the first few episodes and then drifted away from it. It wasn't that it was bad, but I just wanted it to be more. Such a great cast, such a good writer and still, it seemed like it was missing something. I left it, which is sad, because I never abandon Matthew Perry, even when he is starring is such gems like Fools Rush In and Three to Tango.
Then, a miraculous thing happened...the Bears beat New Orleans, I had the Monday off (thank God) and my Tivo had recorded a Studio 60 marathon while I was watching the game. It seemed like destiny as I recline on my couch, nursing a hangover and catching up on Studio 60. It was like we had never parted and I reinvested myself into the show and began enjoying it. So much so, that I have looked forward to watching the new episode every week.
And, like so many things in my life, when I find myself enraptured by something, it is going away on indefinite hiatus. I'm not saying it is the greatest show ever. It needs work - it especially needs to stop beleaguering certain points. But, it is enjoyable. I like the cast. I like the banter between them - though Bradley Whitford is a bit of his West Wing character. (Quite frankly, that doesn't bother me too much, because I loved his West Wing character and I miss that show.) Maybe I am holding out hope that it will get better. Rationally, I know that Networks don't do that and they pull shows for less, but there is so much crappy tv on these days. I really wish that a miracle would happen. The show in one episode would get better, but I doubt that it will be the hail mary necessary.
And so it is going on indefinite hiatus. (Which really means it is off through the money-making part of the season and the un-aired episodes that are already paid for will get aired this summer - when barely anyone is watching). And I find that sad. Seems like good, intelligent shows get tossed or are in constant danger, while American Idol, Survivor, and even Rock Star: Whomever hold on season after season - well, maybe not Rock Star: Whomever, but you get the idea.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
The future is here at last
This week has been a doozy and I have just wrapped up Day 4 of the ridiculously social-Dea week. From my normal Monday night, to snow Angel Tuesday, to GNO Wednesday to Jen's Birthday (Part I) Thursday, I am pooped. It's funny, because sometimes I feel a smidge alone, when I spend a few days hoveled in my apartment watching NetFlix and eating taco dip. Then there is a week like this where I almost wish I could hovel up in my apartment with dvds and taco dip.
I have been so busy that my mind has been working overtime and I feel like my creative juices may have been flushed away by all the OJ I have been drinking. (It has been my desperate attempt to stay vitaminized and healthy during the busy nightlife week).
That being said, I have all these random thoughts and no inspired way of delivering them. So here they are (in no particular order):
1) I saw a woman walking a large dog wearing what can only be described as aqua socks -- the dog not the lady. It struck me as funny, because the dog was walking so proudly and I was wondering if he knew how silly he really looked.
2) Why is it on the day the CTA says that they are going to add more buses to make the commute easier for commuters, my bus takes 15 minutes to go 4 blocks and all the L's that I can take are messed up because of signal issues at Howard? It is like the CTA has some seriously sick sixth sense.
3) I have also noticed that once you have purged someone from your thoughts (typically because you don't want to think of them anymore), that is when they awkwardly pop back into the picture. Of course, when you can't purge someone from your thoughts (and you really wish you could) and you wish they would pop back in the picture, they never seem to.
4) How come the older I get, the more I break out? And in the same respect, why is it the more I lotion, the more I seem to chafe? Seems snow angels in blue jeans was not the nicest thing I could have done to my tucous.
5)How can Mardi Gras (and Ash Wednesday) be next week already? Seriously, time moves fast when you go to work five days a week.
6) Can someone please just figure out who is Anna Nicole's baby daddy? I mean who else is going to come out of the woodwork? David Crosby?
7) I brought a pair of jeans to work today, so that I could change before going to Jen's Birthday Dinner. I'm not gonna lie, I pulled them off my bathroom floor and threw them in my bag. This is only funny, because when I went to grab them to change, a sock fell out of the pant leg. Thankfully, it was only a sock, but still made me chuckle. I really, really need to do laundry. Said jeans were of the infamous snow angel excursion - that is how few clean clothes options I have.
And on that note, it is bed time. Dea-Dea needs her rest. Happy Birthday to Jen! Hope this post was a bit more on the positive side.
Funny side note - when you spell check tucous, mucous, Tuck's, taco and tacos are all options. Don't know why, but that made me chuckle.
I have been so busy that my mind has been working overtime and I feel like my creative juices may have been flushed away by all the OJ I have been drinking. (It has been my desperate attempt to stay vitaminized and healthy during the busy nightlife week).
That being said, I have all these random thoughts and no inspired way of delivering them. So here they are (in no particular order):
1) I saw a woman walking a large dog wearing what can only be described as aqua socks -- the dog not the lady. It struck me as funny, because the dog was walking so proudly and I was wondering if he knew how silly he really looked.
2) Why is it on the day the CTA says that they are going to add more buses to make the commute easier for commuters, my bus takes 15 minutes to go 4 blocks and all the L's that I can take are messed up because of signal issues at Howard? It is like the CTA has some seriously sick sixth sense.
3) I have also noticed that once you have purged someone from your thoughts (typically because you don't want to think of them anymore), that is when they awkwardly pop back into the picture. Of course, when you can't purge someone from your thoughts (and you really wish you could) and you wish they would pop back in the picture, they never seem to.
4) How come the older I get, the more I break out? And in the same respect, why is it the more I lotion, the more I seem to chafe? Seems snow angels in blue jeans was not the nicest thing I could have done to my tucous.
5)How can Mardi Gras (and Ash Wednesday) be next week already? Seriously, time moves fast when you go to work five days a week.
6) Can someone please just figure out who is Anna Nicole's baby daddy? I mean who else is going to come out of the woodwork? David Crosby?
7) I brought a pair of jeans to work today, so that I could change before going to Jen's Birthday Dinner. I'm not gonna lie, I pulled them off my bathroom floor and threw them in my bag. This is only funny, because when I went to grab them to change, a sock fell out of the pant leg. Thankfully, it was only a sock, but still made me chuckle. I really, really need to do laundry. Said jeans were of the infamous snow angel excursion - that is how few clean clothes options I have.
And on that note, it is bed time. Dea-Dea needs her rest. Happy Birthday to Jen! Hope this post was a bit more on the positive side.
Funny side note - when you spell check tucous, mucous, Tuck's, taco and tacos are all options. Don't know why, but that made me chuckle.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
So Call Me Captain Backfire
It's Heart Day, Chicago is covered with a blanket of snow (while more continues to fall) and the Cubs pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training today. I just came back from dinner and drinks with friends and all should be right with my world. And yet, I feel like something is missing.
People will say that I am feeling pressured by the commercialism of Valentine's Day and the lack of one is depressing me, but it's not that. In my 30 years, I have had an actual Valentine once. (Of course, I am not counting the heart-shaped candy box my Dad used to bring me every year when I was a little girl, cards my students gave me or anything a relative mailed me.) Still, I have always liked the holiday.
The doldrums are from a mind that thinks too much and a heart that trusts too much. Part of me will forever be grateful that I lead with my heart, even when my head is a jumbled mess of confusion. Then again, part of me wishes that I didn't always trust people to be true to their word.
I know that it is a lot to ask, but sometimes I wish that people would just be honest. That they would say what they thought. Mean what they say. Be who they are.
The ambiguity of life and relationships is frustrating. On a day that blanketed the city that I love with my favorite thing - snow - I should be feeling only joy. And yet, I am sitting here (actually reclining in bed) wondering what happened? How did my life (once again) turn on a dime?
It is a question that I cannot answer no matter how much I wish that I could. So instead, I am going to focus on the things that are right in my life. I am healthy (though I could probably eat better) and I am rich with friends and family that make even the confusing times great. Because, while I rang in VD with a screaming orgasm (the shot) and a few of my also confused and slightly reflective friends, I wasn't alone. I spent the evening enjoying myself and the company I was keeping.
And then, I went outside with my favorite partner-in-crime and made snow angels. And really, no matter how bummed you are about any situation, laying down in fresh snow to make a snow angel seems to make everything right. At least until your butt starts to freeze a bit.
On that note, sorry for the introspection and reflection. May this day bring you whatever you seek and may you find yourself making snow angels in the snow. Because it is the simple things that make waking up each day worth it all.
Happy Valentine's Day!
People will say that I am feeling pressured by the commercialism of Valentine's Day and the lack of one is depressing me, but it's not that. In my 30 years, I have had an actual Valentine once. (Of course, I am not counting the heart-shaped candy box my Dad used to bring me every year when I was a little girl, cards my students gave me or anything a relative mailed me.) Still, I have always liked the holiday.
The doldrums are from a mind that thinks too much and a heart that trusts too much. Part of me will forever be grateful that I lead with my heart, even when my head is a jumbled mess of confusion. Then again, part of me wishes that I didn't always trust people to be true to their word.
I know that it is a lot to ask, but sometimes I wish that people would just be honest. That they would say what they thought. Mean what they say. Be who they are.
The ambiguity of life and relationships is frustrating. On a day that blanketed the city that I love with my favorite thing - snow - I should be feeling only joy. And yet, I am sitting here (actually reclining in bed) wondering what happened? How did my life (once again) turn on a dime?
It is a question that I cannot answer no matter how much I wish that I could. So instead, I am going to focus on the things that are right in my life. I am healthy (though I could probably eat better) and I am rich with friends and family that make even the confusing times great. Because, while I rang in VD with a screaming orgasm (the shot) and a few of my also confused and slightly reflective friends, I wasn't alone. I spent the evening enjoying myself and the company I was keeping.
And then, I went outside with my favorite partner-in-crime and made snow angels. And really, no matter how bummed you are about any situation, laying down in fresh snow to make a snow angel seems to make everything right. At least until your butt starts to freeze a bit.
On that note, sorry for the introspection and reflection. May this day bring you whatever you seek and may you find yourself making snow angels in the snow. Because it is the simple things that make waking up each day worth it all.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Enjoy the silence
I know that I have Sporty Spice lately with an influx of Bears posts, but I never denied being a big sports buff. Especially football. Especially since my Notre Dame got crushed (again) in the Sugar Bowl.
But I digress, I am a excited about the break. Nat and I were talking about what to do this week. And we can actually have plans other than staking out a table at a bar for a football game. I'm looking forward to catching up on my reading and movie viewing and crossword puzzling. At least for a while.
In other news, I am slightly intrigued by this crazy astronaut story. It fascinates me on many levels. How does a girl get ballsy enough to travel 900 miles to take on a romantic rival when her relationship with the man was more than a friendship, but less than a romantic relationship. Most of us are afraid to call too quickly for fear of pushing someone away and she drives to kidnap a triangle member of a non-relationship. Talk about panache.
And here is something that is bothering me (and my sister) -- the diapers. I mean, we have all been slightly disgusted by the driving in a diaper and peeing yourself to make better time thing. Kind of gross. Here's the big question though, wouldn't she have to stop for gas? I mean what high-falutin car gets 900 miles to the tank? And where can I get one?
And in following that theory, when she stopped for gas, wouldn't it have been just a good a time to stop to use a restroom? My mom always taught me to multi-task on roadtrips. (Mostly, because my dad is a frequent stopper). In my world, when you stop at the gas station (or any other place) you use the bathroom, whether you have to or not.
And then there is the monitoring device. An anklet GPS unit that is supposed to keep track of her. Let’s think about a girl with post-graduate degrees in aeronautical and astronautical engineering, who was one of 2 women who manned the robotic arm in space this summer, and wonder for a second how an anklet is going to hold her back. I may be going out on a limb here, but why do they think that she is incapable of removing that device and putting it on her dog or something else?
It is all incredibly fascinating to me. So many of us wander through life, carefully plotting out interactions with the opposite sex in the hopes that we will get it right once in awhile. And here is Lisa rocking and rolling to the beat of her own drum and taking her own path. It amazes me that this uber-intelligent woman ended up in Depends on a Thelma without Louise roadtrip. I wonder how she got to that point.
But I digress, I am a excited about the break. Nat and I were talking about what to do this week. And we can actually have plans other than staking out a table at a bar for a football game. I'm looking forward to catching up on my reading and movie viewing and crossword puzzling. At least for a while.
In other news, I am slightly intrigued by this crazy astronaut story. It fascinates me on many levels. How does a girl get ballsy enough to travel 900 miles to take on a romantic rival when her relationship with the man was more than a friendship, but less than a romantic relationship. Most of us are afraid to call too quickly for fear of pushing someone away and she drives to kidnap a triangle member of a non-relationship. Talk about panache.
And here is something that is bothering me (and my sister) -- the diapers. I mean, we have all been slightly disgusted by the driving in a diaper and peeing yourself to make better time thing. Kind of gross. Here's the big question though, wouldn't she have to stop for gas? I mean what high-falutin car gets 900 miles to the tank? And where can I get one?
And in following that theory, when she stopped for gas, wouldn't it have been just a good a time to stop to use a restroom? My mom always taught me to multi-task on roadtrips. (Mostly, because my dad is a frequent stopper). In my world, when you stop at the gas station (or any other place) you use the bathroom, whether you have to or not.
And then there is the monitoring device. An anklet GPS unit that is supposed to keep track of her. Let’s think about a girl with post-graduate degrees in aeronautical and astronautical engineering, who was one of 2 women who manned the robotic arm in space this summer, and wonder for a second how an anklet is going to hold her back. I may be going out on a limb here, but why do they think that she is incapable of removing that device and putting it on her dog or something else?
It is all incredibly fascinating to me. So many of us wander through life, carefully plotting out interactions with the opposite sex in the hopes that we will get it right once in awhile. And here is Lisa rocking and rolling to the beat of her own drum and taking her own path. It amazes me that this uber-intelligent woman ended up in Depends on a Thelma without Louise roadtrip. I wonder how she got to that point.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Hush My Darling
Well, its the re-cap I didn't really want to write. The one where I talk about the Chicago Bears losing in Superbowl XLI. Argh. So frustrating and a bit of a bummer. The ending was just sad. I think I am skipping game details and instead will recap the pre-game activities.
Like it was Christmas morning, I woke up at 7 AM. Not at all necessary and I have no idea why I did. I kept trying to force myself back to sleep, but it wasn't working out all that well.
At 8 AM, Natalie sent out the morning text - as she had done the previous 2 playoff games. I got up and futzed around until it was time to start the day.
Mel and Nat picked me up around 10:30, so that we could drive to get coffee and go grocery shopping for the party - we infused Sunday with as many routines as we could. We grocery shopped (snack bought) like it was our job. Never send 3 girls (with varying degrees of hunger and hangovers) into a grocery store unsupervised.
After shopping, we rolled down the windows (tradition again - and a damn cold one at that) and blasted the Superbowl Shuffle – singing it at the top of our lungs.
Next stop was the Bayou for a meat stick / bloody mary (righter of so many wrongs) with Cousin Michael a.k.a. Space Cuz. Michael had just come from mass, where he had prayed for a Bears victory. Like any good Catholic should.
Quick run home for food prep and then we converged upon the Superbowl Central. There was excitement in the air mixed with the splendid aromas of Chili, 'Lil Smokies, Velveeta cheese, Chicago-Style dogs, Popeye's chicken...the list goes on and on. Dave B. had set up viewing stations and every seat in the house had a perfect view.
Billy Joel belted out the National Anthem and the flyby buzzed the stadium. The Coin Toss went and it was heads. And the Bears were going to receive.
The anticipation mounted as the ball flipped end over end in the air. Devin Hester (I Heart Devin in ‘07) caught it and began to run. The minute he did this fancy side step, we all knew. He was going to run it all the way back. The room erupted and none of us could believe our eyes. It was the greatest 14 seconds of football I have ever seen.
And it was hard to top. Especially when the Colts scored a touchdown soon after. (Of course, the missed extra point was a bonus). Then it was 14-6 Bears and we were feeling good (not great, but good). Then there was the fumble. And Cedric went down. And another fumble. And we suddenly couldn't stop the run. And it all began to shift.
We tried. We rolled Shot-zees. We drank Mad Dog 20/20. (And Boones for that matter). We ate cold shot dogs. Anything we could think of to rally the Bears.
But when the confetti fell, it fell on the Colts in celebration and on the Bears as they slowly trudged off the field. There was sadness in the eyes of all the players. There was stunned silence in living rooms across Chicago.
This loss was a tough one – not nearly as painful as the Cubs in 2003, but pretty hard to swallow nonetheless. I will say this, though; it was one hell of a year.
To all those who met weekly and followed the Bears all season long – think of it this way - pitchers and catchers report to camp in 8 days. That’s right – 8 days! Isn’t that great? Football season for Chicago just ended and baseball season is about to begin.
Not to mention that March Madness is a mere month away.
All these glorious things to distract us until the Bears report to training camp and we can look at making a repeat appearance.
Until then, use this off-season to recover from injuries. Rest your weary livers. Take a few Sundays and catch up on your sleep. Return to a bit of normalcy.
Because, before you know it, the sun will be out, it will be warmer than the –1 it was this morning and we will be grilling brats and talking about the draft and hopes for the new season that looms before us. Go Bears!
Like it was Christmas morning, I woke up at 7 AM. Not at all necessary and I have no idea why I did. I kept trying to force myself back to sleep, but it wasn't working out all that well.
At 8 AM, Natalie sent out the morning text - as she had done the previous 2 playoff games. I got up and futzed around until it was time to start the day.
Mel and Nat picked me up around 10:30, so that we could drive to get coffee and go grocery shopping for the party - we infused Sunday with as many routines as we could. We grocery shopped (snack bought) like it was our job. Never send 3 girls (with varying degrees of hunger and hangovers) into a grocery store unsupervised.
After shopping, we rolled down the windows (tradition again - and a damn cold one at that) and blasted the Superbowl Shuffle – singing it at the top of our lungs.
Next stop was the Bayou for a meat stick / bloody mary (righter of so many wrongs) with Cousin Michael a.k.a. Space Cuz. Michael had just come from mass, where he had prayed for a Bears victory. Like any good Catholic should.
Quick run home for food prep and then we converged upon the Superbowl Central. There was excitement in the air mixed with the splendid aromas of Chili, 'Lil Smokies, Velveeta cheese, Chicago-Style dogs, Popeye's chicken...the list goes on and on. Dave B. had set up viewing stations and every seat in the house had a perfect view.
Billy Joel belted out the National Anthem and the flyby buzzed the stadium. The Coin Toss went and it was heads. And the Bears were going to receive.
The anticipation mounted as the ball flipped end over end in the air. Devin Hester (I Heart Devin in ‘07) caught it and began to run. The minute he did this fancy side step, we all knew. He was going to run it all the way back. The room erupted and none of us could believe our eyes. It was the greatest 14 seconds of football I have ever seen.
And it was hard to top. Especially when the Colts scored a touchdown soon after. (Of course, the missed extra point was a bonus). Then it was 14-6 Bears and we were feeling good (not great, but good). Then there was the fumble. And Cedric went down. And another fumble. And we suddenly couldn't stop the run. And it all began to shift.
We tried. We rolled Shot-zees. We drank Mad Dog 20/20. (And Boones for that matter). We ate cold shot dogs. Anything we could think of to rally the Bears.
But when the confetti fell, it fell on the Colts in celebration and on the Bears as they slowly trudged off the field. There was sadness in the eyes of all the players. There was stunned silence in living rooms across Chicago.
This loss was a tough one – not nearly as painful as the Cubs in 2003, but pretty hard to swallow nonetheless. I will say this, though; it was one hell of a year.
To all those who met weekly and followed the Bears all season long – think of it this way - pitchers and catchers report to camp in 8 days. That’s right – 8 days! Isn’t that great? Football season for Chicago just ended and baseball season is about to begin.
Not to mention that March Madness is a mere month away.
All these glorious things to distract us until the Bears report to training camp and we can look at making a repeat appearance.
Until then, use this off-season to recover from injuries. Rest your weary livers. Take a few Sundays and catch up on your sleep. Return to a bit of normalcy.
Because, before you know it, the sun will be out, it will be warmer than the –1 it was this morning and we will be grilling brats and talking about the draft and hopes for the new season that looms before us. Go Bears!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
For Me?
I came home from the bar tonight and there was a dozen white roses shoved in the outer door of my apartment building. For a brief moment, I thought that they were for me. I mean, really – a bouquet of my favorite colored roses at my house at 3 AM – how cool is that? I pulled them out of the door and looked at them. There was nothing on them to indicate the giver and receiver of these flowers.
Realistically, I knew they weren't for me. I don't really have anyone that would be leaving flowers at my door (at least not in my waking state). But for a second, it was a nice thought.
I didn't know what to do with the flowers, so I brought them inside and placed them in front of the mailboxes. I hope that they find their rightful owner.
Note: I wrote that at about 3 AM on Saturday - well really, Sunday morning. It is now Day 3 of White Roses Watch and no one has claimed them. At this point, they are just this sad looking brownish batch of flowers with no owner.
Last night I was relaying the story of the flowers to a few friends. My one friend said they were make-up flowers and that the recipient probably wasn’t home or wouldn’t let the apologizer have the chance to apologize. That’s a sad little spin on the story.
Realistically, I knew they weren't for me. I don't really have anyone that would be leaving flowers at my door (at least not in my waking state). But for a second, it was a nice thought.
I didn't know what to do with the flowers, so I brought them inside and placed them in front of the mailboxes. I hope that they find their rightful owner.
Note: I wrote that at about 3 AM on Saturday - well really, Sunday morning. It is now Day 3 of White Roses Watch and no one has claimed them. At this point, they are just this sad looking brownish batch of flowers with no owner.
Last night I was relaying the story of the flowers to a few friends. My one friend said they were make-up flowers and that the recipient probably wasn’t home or wouldn’t let the apologizer have the chance to apologize. That’s a sad little spin on the story.
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