Times are Tough, But My Hair Looks Good...

Just a quick recap of comments from the Lent blog. It was so interesting and informative to learn what others had given up. I think the most common thread was that alcohol, sweets and soda were the main sacrifices. I overheard the following conversation: " We are going to be so healthy and sexy after 40 days!" I was a little confused as to whether this was a description of a spiritual journey or a spa visit. Another friend decided to add something instead, and chose the addition of vodka to her cranberry juice each night.
My own family had some small issues. Matthew finally decided on ice cream, which he probably has about once a month. Unfortunately, we went out to eat last night, and I saw him drooling over the menu insert which had a picture of a brownie and ice cream. Thinking I hadn't seen it, he asked "Mom, maybe I should change my Lent 'thing'." So much for endurance.
Gabrielle decided to add Sprite to her original sacrifice of chocolate. This way, "if I mess up on one, I will still have the other." Good thinking. Glad she has learned that whole CYA thing early on.
Tony has still not decided on his... (just not down with the whole "40 days thing.")
And I am wishing I had kept mine to myself, remembering last year when I accidentally took a sip of diet coke, and my kids screamed "You Cheated! Mom Cheated" in the middle of a restaurant. Anyway, on with today's musings...

After taking a look at the headlines, including more job losses, bank bailouts and tax hikes, I have decided to discuss yesterday's visit to the Hair Salon. Now I hate to go to the Hair Salon, but I also like my hair to look good. So every few months, I drag myself over to the salon to get highlights and a trim. Sometimes I threaten to get something new and different done , and I cut out a picture of some new celebrity hair cut and show it to my hair dresser. She nods and agrees, and then proceeds to do exactly the same thing as last time. It's like we have this unspoken pact that I will pretend to want to be trendy, and she will pretend be able to do it. In the end, she does the same thing as usual, we nod in agreement, and I go home happy.

Your hair dresser, once you find one you like, becomes a special person in your life. You may or may not even like them, but due to previous bad hair salon experiences, you are willing to overlook this. Case in point for me would be my previous hair dresser whom I will call "Jessie". I won't mention her real name because I am afraid of her. There is always the 1 % chance she could read this and come and find me.
When I first moved back to Atlanta years ago, I was modeling part-time (a subject for a different blog) and my agency referred me to "Jessie" to get my hair done. Now "Jessie" looked just like Wynnona Judd, but she dressed a little better (think very carefully about that visual). The first time I met her, she ordered me into her chair, shook her head in disgust, and proceeded to do something to my hair without even asking me what I wanted done. Feeling too scared of her to question it, I sat there in suspense until at last, she flung me towards the mirror. "You're done." It was amazing. My hair, which can best be described as a "managed mess" was beautiful. I was totally hooked, and over the next several years, I would do what ever it took to get to "Jessie" to do my hair. Of course, she totally abused me... made me wait hours past the appointment time, took phone calls during my trims, and I swear she raised her prices in the middle of my appointments. But the worst thing was that she was the meanest person I had ever met. She spoke terribly about everyone from her mom, to her husbands (3 over the 10 years I went to her), to her co-workers, even to the person sitting in the next chair. I had no doubt that as soon as I left, she started on me. I was actually ashamed that I sat there and listened to it. But the minute I saw my hair in the mirror after each visit, I knew I would be back again.
The final straw came after my last child was born. I had moved an hour and a half away, but I had driven down in between feedings to get a cut. Not only did she not show up, but when I called her, she laughed it off and offered me $10 off on my next visit. I decided on my way home that it was no longer worth it.
The next week, I started a search for a replacement which would last for a couple of years. I wore a lot of hats and ponytails, and listened to Tony say things like "it's not that bad" a lot.

Last year I found my new hair home, and we are very happy together. No miracles are performed, but at least I don't feel ashamed of myself after leaving.

The real subject of this blog was to be the conversations I overheard in the chair yesterday, which ranged from funny to troubling...but those will have to wait for Part 2...

Politically Correct

I probably should begin this with a frame of reference. I campaigned and voted for John McCain. Though I did not find him to be the "perfect" candidate, I did admire his personal history and his ability to see more than a one-party approach to most issues. I was also leery of the "facade" of Barrack Obama. I found him to be articulate and cunning, but severely lacking in experience and in the ability to have a true grasp on many issues. He talked around things, but not about them, and when called on for specifics, he often misspoke or erred altogether.


Fast-forward to Inauguration Day. I had decided to try and put aside all of my disappointment and skepticism and "get behind" my new President. I was encouraged by the fact that so many Americans were inspired by him. But I was immediately put off by his subtle "jabs" at the outgoing president who sat behind him, and who had treated Obama in such a gracious and respectful manner. Over the past 8 years, I certainly had my share of disappointment with many of the Bush policies, but what stayed with me was the fact that this man had managed to keep our country safe after 9/11, when even the most liberal-leaning folks were sure we would be attacked again.


As I watched President Obama's speech the other night, the first thing that hit me was the that I was going to have to watch Nancy Pelosi and Joe Biden sit behind him whenever he gives a speech to the country over the next 4 years. This will probably limit the amount of time I watch ,as I cannot take their arrogance or hypocrisy. Joe Biden's life story is compelling and stirring, but he has morphed into a cartoon character, a "gaffer" who lies when he doesn't know the answer, but refuses to acknowledge it . Even the President seems embarrassed by him. Nancy Pelosi is the most divisive politician to come about in years. Mention her name in a room full of republicans and you better cover your ears because the language is going to deteriorate quickly. One of my favorite moments of the last month was when she flew on her private jet (all the time declaiming the waste of corporate big-whigs) to see the Pope, only to be chastised by him for her stand on abortion. Yes, it was Pelosi who tried to tell us that the Catholic church hadn't made it's mind up on abortion. I guess the Pope didn't see it that way.


President Obama talked to us about fiscal responsibility, but he had just signed into law a 750 billion dollar stimulus package, the largest in our country's history, which pushes our deficit into the trillions. He spoke to us about maintaining a strong national security, but he had just announced weeks ago that he would close Guantanemo Bay, where we house known terrorists, without having a plan as to where those prisoners would go. The day he announced this, it was also made public that 16 of the prisoners that had been released from Guantanemo had resumed terrorist activities, many having resulted in the deaths of others.

He spoke to us about avoiding bi-partisanship, but he signed a bill without one republican vote. He spoke to us about using every tool possible to boost the economy, but refused to consider lowering the capital gains or payroll tax. He promised the end of earmarks, but praised a bill that included over 10 billion dollars worth of them. He promised no lobbyists in his administration, but yet he has already made almost 20 exceptions to that rule. He promised high ideals in his appointees, but then looked the other way when some had tax issues.


Despite all of this, I haven't given up hope. My husband calls me a "closet liberal", but I think this means that I am at least willing to listen to the "other side" before I make up my mind. My heart can listen to an argument for nationalized health care, but my head eventually kicks in and tells me it won't work. My heart supports gay rights, but my head says that marriage needs to remain between a man and a woman. (and our new President is in agreement, regardless of how he tries to present himself.) My heart dislikes the word "torture", but my head tells me that the definition becomes fuzzy when you are dealing with people who are trying to kill thousands of Americans.


In today's Wall Street Journal, Karl Rove's opinion piece spells out more articulately than I can why Barrack Obama is so troubling at this point. The general idea is that he "characterizes those who disagree with him in a fundamentally dishonest way" because he "lacks confidence in the merits of his own ideas." This is my greatest fear, that he has campaigned and been elected on this "facade" of elegance and intelligence, but if you scratch the surface, there's not much there.


We were "enlightened" by Sean Penn at the Oscars the other night, who said that he was proud that America had elected such an "elegant" man. What? Is there anyone out there that actually votes based on "elegance"? I'm not giving up yet. It's only been a couple of months, and I always have faith in the goodness of man. There are areas where Obama has demonstrated patience and the ability to compromise.


Now, as promised, on a lighter and much more meaningful note...I thought Michelle Obama looked wonderful the other night. She continues to strike the right note with her clothes, in my opinion. Except for the gown she wore for the Inauguration, which I thought was beautiful but just not on her, she has not only looked the part, but done it with style. As Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue wrote, "she accepts the iconicity that has been thrust on her and has thought carefully about how to use it responsibly and productively." In other words, she does a great job of mixing J. Crew and Narcisco Rodriguez. She represents a very modern way of dressing. Hats off to her.


I hope this "rant" wasn't too serious....In real life, I am normally not pre-disposed to discussing religion and politics, but as my husband points out, I am much braver on paper.

So tomorrow, back to everyday life...

Oh Yeah, A Little Addendum...

Just using my lunch break to respond to the overwhelming responses (ok, 5) to some of my earlier blogs...

1) My lovely daughter Rachel has once again (see earlier blog) lodged a complaint that she has not been mentioned the last few days. So here goes...Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. I figure I'm good for a week, now.

2) To the person who relayed to me that faceook is the end of the world...you are such a drama king. I am probably the biggest "privacy junkie" you will ever encounter, and so far, so good. Here is the key...you control your page. You control who your friends are. This fear you have of "long lost people" looking you up is groundless. They have to ask your permission to be your "friend". What that means in my case is that if you are my "friend", it is because I want you there. And worse case scenario, you can always claim you didn't get the request...or hit the lovely DELETE button.

3) To all you people that have hundreds of "friends" on facebook...I don't know whether to envy you or be scared of you. I must live a very small life.

4) Thanks to my precious niece who sent me an e-mail saying that she was proud I joined facebook because she has not yet done it. She made feel "cool" for at least 10 minutes.

5) Tony, it is impossible to blog without using your best lines.

6) Kelly R., I knew you would be the one person who skipped the Oscars and went for the History channel. Don't be disappointed in me because I caved...

7) I asked Rachel (yet another mention) to text her sister in class (at University) and ask her a question. She responded. "Nope. You slammed texting in your blog, so I won't until you admit how useful it can be."
I am sure that I am hugely technologically out of date....I only meant to say that maybe relationships should not be conducted by text. Ok?? Now please text your sister...

That's it for today....I promise.

I Give Up

Today is the first day Lent. This is always an interesting time in our household as we all decide what to give up. Our minister suggested that this year, with all of the negativity going on, that perhaps we try and "take something on" instead of giving something up. I love that idea and plan to try and do that, but I also think that self-sacrifice is important, so I still wanted to give something up.

When I discussed it with my kids, they pleaded with me not to give up coffee or diet cokes. "You did that last year and you were too grumpy!" After further discussion, we agreed that I would give up all desserts, excluding yogurt and fruit. (It's pretty bad when you start making exceptions before the 40 days even begin.)

Gabrielle decided to give up chocolate. I congratulated her on making such a sacrifice, but I noticed she had a very worried look on her face. I asked her what was wrong. "Well, what about Easter? I won't be able to eat my chocolate bunny." I explained to her that Lent actually ended the Saturday before Easter. That seemed to appease her for a minute, but then she hesitated.
I asked again what was wrong. "Well, what about the Easter party at school?" That was a tough one. I figured that if I can have yogurt and fruit, she can take a day off for the Easter party.

Matt was pretty quiet during the whole conversation. I asked what he was thinking about giving up. "Well, not any food." Of course not. We're talking about sacrifice, not torture. Then he thought about it and said, "Ok. I think I will give up time on the Wii and practice shooting hoops instead." ????????? I wasn't sure how to address that . Obviously there are some gaps in his grasp of the whole subject. I patiently explained that it was meant to be a time of prayer and sacrifice, not an effort to improve sports skills. Matt is going through confirmation class at our church right now, and so he will be participating in the Ash Wednesday service tonight. After this conversation, I am hoping that he is not called on to answer any questions.

I asked Tony this morning if he was giving up anything for Lent. "Well of course," he replied. "After a lot of thought, I have decided to give up going to romantic movies with you. I will use this time to reflect and meditate." I replied that if that was the case, I would be giving up a few night time activities that might affect him negatively..." and before you know it, he retracted his response and decided to give it some more thought.

In all seriousness, this is one of my favorite times of year. It feels like a time of renewal. When I make the decision to give something up, no matter how silly or inconsequential it may be, I'm consciously reminded each day of the great sacrifice that Christ made for me. It is humbling and comforting at the same time. And for those whose religious beliefs don't include Lent or Easter, I think that it is still a time of year for renewal and hope.

And so begins my 40 days without desserts. If my blogs take on a desperate tone, you'll know why.

And just a warning....I caught part of the President's speech on tv last night, so tomorrow's subject will be political. But for those of you who do not care about this, there will also be fashion comment on Michelle's dress....

They're Playing my Song

It was pointed out to me several times yesterday that my blog on the Oscars did not even mention the winning picture, Slumdog Millionaire. I apologize for the omission, my only excuse being that 1) I didn't see the picture 2) I was more focused on the dresses 3) I barely made it to that particular announcement 4) I knew I was going to mention it in today's Part 2.


I was also barraged with complaints (ok, barrage may be strongly worded...actually 2 complaints) from my male readers who feel that my movie quotes were heavily weighted towards the chick-flick. After reminding them that this blog reflects MY opinion, I did vow to try and find more of a balance. (Anyone reading should feel free to send me any examples of movie quotes that might appeal to guys....you know "Go to the mattresses" and junk, I mean, terrific quotes like that.)


Now on with today's subject. After the dresses, my favorite part of the Oscars are the music categories. I love to see which original scores are nominated, because as someone who enjoys writing music, I am incredibly in awe of people who are able to do this. I also like the "best song" category because a large part of my CD (I almost slipped and said album) collection are movie soundtracks. ( I remember shopping in a music store years ago with a friend of mine. When we got to the counter to pay for our choices, he had Kiss and ACDC. I had the sountrack to Tootise. "You are the weirdest girl I have ever met," he said.)

Anyway, this year the best song nominees were "Jai Ho" and "O Saya" from Slumdog, and "Down to Earth" from Wall-E. I hadn't heard of any of these. I read that Peter Gabriel, who wrote Down to Earth, refused to perform because they wanted him to "edit" it due to time constraints. The 2 from Slumdog just did not resonate with me because, and this is just ME, they sounded like songs you would listen to in Social Studies to help you get the flavor of India.

I think that the test of a good movie soundtrack is if you immediately recall the movie when you hear the song or music. For example:

1) The theme from "Rocky". I'm not sure that movie would be as inspiring without the rousing music that accompanies his boxing matches and culminates in him running up those stairs in Philly.
2) The music to the "Godfather" is haunting. People who have never even seen the movie recognize the music.
3)" The Sound of Music". Enough said.
4) Can anyone listen to the "Saturday Night Fever" music without picturing John Travolta in that white tux?
5)The piano interlude to the "The Sting" was on everyone's piano for years. If you took piano lessons, you had to learn that one.
6) The subject matter of "Grease" is a little mature, but the music makes it beloved to kids of all ages. If you are a girl, you have sung "Hopelessly Devoted to You" into your hairbrush in your bedroom.
7) Henry Mancini's "Pink Panther" is another one that is instantly recognizable.
8) It may not be the most recognizable, but I believe the soundtrack to "The Mission" by Ennio Morricone is the most beautiful music I have ever heard.
9) Anything by Angelo Badalamenti ( soundtracks from "Cousins", "Blue Velvet" and many more) because he is my husband's second cousin.

Isn't it funny how often the music we listen to can shape our moods or even change our mood? Every morning before I write, I listen to Sarah Brightman sing 'Nessun Dorma' from Turandot. I am not a big opera fan or anything, but the music is just so beautiful and inspiring that it never fails to put me in the right frame of mind.

Even my children are affected by music. My 11 year old son's music generally runs towards rap, but in the midst of a huge crush at the moment, I see a a lot of Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift on his Ipod. My 9 year old daughter has a fairly sophisticated music palette. She listens to 'Adele' sing "Chasing Pavements" until her brother begs for mercy. (And then she asks me "Mom, what the heck is "chasing pavements"?."

On the way to church every Sunday morning (ok, not every Sunday morning), my husband puts on Dave FM . The only way I know how to describe the music is to call it "Music to Commit Suicide By". The absolute most depressing stuff you've ever heard. The first few times we listened to this, I didn't say anything because I am always very thankful that he is going to church, and I felt this was a small price to pay. A few weeks later, I decided to ask "can we maybe listen to anything a little more upbeat?" ......"No" he answered. Ok. I don't want to speculate on the reason for it, but ...is he depressed we are going to church? is he trying to irritate me?.....does he actually LIKE it? I still don't know the answer, but at least now when he puts it on, he looks over and grins at me.

My older daughters used to accuse me of not liking music because sometimes when they would be blaring their music in the car, I would make them turn it off. After having 4 kids, sometimes the most beautiful music in the world is...silence.

The current soundtrack to my life is Viva La Vida" by Coldplay. I listen to it way too often and I don't understand any of the lyrics, but it makes me feel good. And in the end, I think that's what is important about music. If you can't say it, do it, feel it, or express it...at least you can listen to it.

Ok, I'll Admit It, I Watched

After reviewing the subjects of my blogs last week, I promised myself that this week's subjects would be a bit more serious. I could always discuss the Federal Stimulus Bill or the Bank Bailouts. I could talk about A-Rod and steroids. Unfortunately, for anyone looking for a more intellectual tone, today is not the day to read...because I watched the Oscars last night.


I would love to be one of those people who, when you ask "Did you see Angelina's dress last night?", feign ignorance and claim that they had watched the National Geographic special on Discovery Channel. But I would be lying if I said that I didn't somewhat plan my evening around watching. I'll even go so far to admit that I watched the pre-show Red Carpet special where Ryan Seacrest asks the attendees inane questions that make me embarrassed to watch, so I have to turn off the sound. But you know, I am a girl, and I like pretty dresses, so there you go. The following is my take on the evening:


First off, I think Hugh Jackman did a nice job. He was very gracious and likeable, and the opening number was kind of cute. He's not Billy Crystal, and I miss his kind of humor where he makes fun of everything and everyone, but all in all, he was good.

Secondly, and probably most important...the dresses. Here are the categories and winners:

1) Best dressed: Hands down Natalie Portman. The beautiful lilac-pink strapless looked amazing and her hair and makeup were simple and lovely. Just beautiful.

2)Sexiest: Now I'm not a man, so I don't know if my definition of sexy crosses gender lines, but my vote goes to Jessica Biel. I think because she usually looks very athletic and almost tomboyish in pictures, the feminine white dress and the flowy hair were just really attractive.

3) Most disappointing: A lot of people will probably disagree with me on this one, but I wasn't crazy about Kate Winslet's dress or hair. The dress did not compliment her shape at all, and the color was a a little drab. Her hair was too retro, which I though made her look older. (I love her though...more later on that)

4) Most misguided: Remember that year when Bjork wore the bird dress? Well I don't think we saw anything like that this year. In fact, I was a little disappointed that nobody really went out on a limb. But I really didn't like Beyonce's gown. Besides being overdone, she looked like she was going flamingo dancing later on.

5) Best-Dressed Couple: I'd love to be original and say somebody else, but you know, Brad and Angelina, blah, blah, blah. I hate his mustache and I'm tired of seeing her in black, but they looked really good.

6) Best jewelry: Angelina's stunning emerald earrings and ring made her outfit...that along with the fact that she is just drop dead gorgeous.

7) Most age appropriate: Ok, Sophia Loren is a legendary beauty, and for someone in her seventies, she looked terrific. But I would have liked to seen less flounce on the dress and less makeup. The last time she was at the Oscars, she wore a very understated black dress and her hair in a simple bun, and she was just so beautiful. This time it was a little overdone. But hey, she's in her seventies...I should just be so impressed.
Meryl Streep looked spectacular. I mean, the dress was appropriate, sexy, pretty...and her hair and make up were perfect. I guess after 15 nominations, she knows how to do it.

8) Honorable Mentions: Diane Lane, always elegant and beautiful. Nicole Kidman, another Hall of Fame dresser. Halle Berry, the dress and hair were so lovely...she seems to be aging backwards. Sarah Jessica Parker, she gets a mention because even if I wasn't crazy about the dress, she just carries it off so well.

9) Big thank you to: Miley Cyrus for wearing something so pretty and age-appropriate for all of her young fans.

Other highlights:

I love it when no-name people win and they run up all breathless and excited and they thank everyone they've ever met. It's so sincere.

I'm glad Kate Winslet won. I didn't see either of her movies this year, so my opinions have absolutely no credence, but I like her personality. I loved her in "The Holiday" and I liked her little story about practicing her acceptance speech with a shampoo bottle when she was eight. She is the definition of charming.

I was a little disappointed that Mickey Rourke didn't win. Again, I didn't see The Wrestler or Milk, so I don't know who was the better actor, but I am always for the underdog, and he just seemed so needy.

My favorite line of the evening was when Steve Martin said to Tina Fey (she was staring at him while he was reading the nominees) , "Do Not Fall in Love with Me." Made me laugh out loud.

I liked how they brought the previous male and female winners back to announce the nominees and winners. I thought that was a very creative way to introduce them.

And one more thing. I thought Queen Latifa did a beautiful job of singing "I'll be Seeing You" while they ran the list of people that had passed away this year. But I had a really hard time following the list because they kept shooting it from different angles. I like it better when they just shoot it straight on. I think it diminished what is usually one of the more poignant moments of the evening.

All in all, I thought it was pretty entertaining, especially considering the fact that I hadn't seen any of the nominated movies. I probably see 10 movies a year at the theater. I don't know if it says more about ME or the Oscars that I hadn't seen any of the movies. Does it matter that 1/3 of the movies I see are what my kids choose? Does it matter that another 1/3 are my husband's picks? That still leaves 1/3 right?...I choose not to believe that it is a statement on my lack of sophistication.

That's it for now. I wanted to talk about the Movie Soundtrack category...but I think I will save that for part 2.

Just Leave a Message

When I was in junior high, the most prevalent form of male/femal communication was the note. If you had a crush, issue or just wanted to vent, you wrote a note, folded it about 42 times and passed it on a journey across the classroom. If the teacher saw this, sometimes you had to read it in front of the class. This could be really embarrassing, especially if you had bared your soul. If the note actually made it to it's intended reader, it had usually been read along the way, so now everyone knew the news. Of course some people would write in big block letters "Do Not Read", and this would insure that the note would never make it to it's recipient because everyone had to read it. After class, there would be about 10 notes scattered about on the floor.

Fast forward to highschool, and the preferred communicae became the phone. Not the cell phone, just the home phone. This meant that your life became very limited if you were hoping for or expecting a call. Not like these days where everyone can be reached anywhere at anytime on their cell. Back then, you had to hang out and wait. If someone hinted that the guy you had been crushing on for 4 years was thinking of giving you a call, then there was no way you were leaving the house for even 2 minutes. If mom sent you out to take the trash to the curb, you were sprinting for fear the phone would ring and you would miss it, or dad would answer and ask "who's calling please?" (mortification)

By college, there were cell phones. This freed us up a bit. No more having to wait, because you were available 24/7 to find out who wanted to go out with you. The down side was that you were also available 24/7 to find out who wanted to break up with you.

A few years later, when computers became a household item, e-mail became the easy way out. Now you could communicate without even opening your mouth. Those 3 little words, "You've Got Mail" became the equivalent of seeing the red message light being lit up on your phone, or the missed calls flashing on your cell. E-mail ushered in a new form of etiquette. What use to take weeks to discover about a person now only took days. Of course, there were drawbacks. Some of the mystery was gone. There is always a danger when we are given the ability to react instantaneously instead of mulling over things for awhile. And from a sexist point of view, the male/female dynamic changed a little bit. Women were able to (good or bad) to say things on line that they would probably never say in person. The 24 hour rule was created, where you promised yourself that you would wait that amount of time before sending anything of consequence. Unfortunately, being the emotional creatures that women sometimes are, this rule was often broken. Many hours were spent trying to figure out how to "take back" something that had been written at 2:00 in the morning after a long day.

But now the e-mail is a little outdated. Why e-mail when you can actually text and get an immediated response? I have known people (being careful not to mention my daughters) who have carried on relationships totally by text. Sample converstation:
"Did he text you today?"
"only once...said he was really busy at work."
"Oh, I am so sorry. You better move on."
What?? Is there some sort of numerical code that tells us how many text messages equal a relationship now? Some kind of formula that you can work out to tell you if he likes you?

A friend told me the other day that she was very offended by the tone of her husband's text. I asked her how on earth she could infer any sort of tone from text? "Trust me, you just know."

If you don't text, you are treated with a certain amount of disdain by those that do. But I just cannot take the leap at his point. "How can we reach you?" people will ask. You know what? Sometimes I don't want to be reached. Sometimes I still want to be able to control how and when I answer someone. When my husband is angry with me, he doesn't take my calls. I can respect that. (I can also leave 546 messages to annoy him) Everyone needs to be able to throw up the "wall" sometimes.

An article in the Wall street Journal a few days ago detailed how a man in the 1940's who wanted to ask someone out literally had to hike down to a pay phone, call a friend, ask the friend to relay the message...and then wait several weeks for a similar response. Can you imagine? How lovely to be able to re-tell that story.

I'm just not convinced that a texted "want to hang out"..."sure" ...can ever compete with that.

Excuse Me, But I'm Blocked

Did you ever see the episode of "Sex and the City" where Carrie has to write about organizing her sock drawer because she has writer's block? Well, today, this is my equivalent of the sock drawer story because I have "Blog Block". Writing a daily blog is suppose to be an exercise, kind of like writer's aerobics, to keep the creative juices in shape. Well, today, we are doing the yoga blog. Still making an effort, but just not able to go for the burn.

A friend and I were talking about the upcoming Oscars over dinner the other night, and we began to trade our favorite movie quotes. He was quoting "The Godfather" and "Bull Durham". I was quoting "The Way We Were" and "Love Story". Typical man/woman differences. However we did accrue a few similar quotes that seem to cross gender lines as far as relevance. The following are MY all time favorite movie quotes with a few lesser ones sprinkled in for the guys.

1) Ok, we'll start with a crossover to please everyone. Field of Dreams. When Ray asks his dad, "Hey dad...you wanna have a catch?" at the very end of the movie. I don't know anyone with a father, brother or husband who has played ball that doesn't tear up at that one. Even the toughest of guys has been known to leave the room after that scene.

2) Still "Field of Dreams". Moonlight Graham says "You know we just don't recognize the most significant moments of our lives while they're happening. Back then I thought, well there'll be other days. I didn't realize that was the only day." Needs no explanation.

3) "The Way We Were". Katie says to Hubbell when she sees him in the street at the end: "Your girl is lovely, Hubbell."
Every woman I know sobs at this moment.

4)Still "The Way We Were". Exchange between Hubbell and Katie at the end:
Hubbell: You never give up, do you?
Katie: Only when I'm absolutely forced to. But I'm a very good loser.
Hubbell: Better than I am.
Katie: Well, I've had...more practice.
Such a poignant moment. I can feel her pain every time.

5) Something's Gotta Give. Harry tells Erica "I've never lied to you, I have always told you some version of the truth." Classic male line.

6) Harry again to Erica "Erica, you are a woman to love." The look on Diane Keaton's face while she is trying to figure out the nuance of what he is saying is priceless.

7) One more time. Harry to Erica when he tells her he owns a rap music company and she laughs: Harry: Some people consider rap poetry.
Erica: C'mon, how many words can you rhyme with bitch.?
Makes me laugh out loud every time.

8)You've Got Mail. Joe Fox writes to Kathleen Kelly: "Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."
Stunning imagery. Makes me happy ever time I hear it.

9) You've Got Mail. Kathleen to Joe discussing the internet: "The odd thing about this form of communication is that you're more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings."
Just so sweet...

10) The Holiday. Miles to Iris when he tells her he wrote a melody for her: "I used only the good notes".
Maybe it's because I write music, or maybe it's because of thelook on Kate Winslet's face, but this may be my favorite.

11)Notting Hill. Hard to choose one line because I laugh the whole way though.
Honey to Anna Scott: "Oh, God. This is one of those key moments in life, when it is possible to be really genuinely cool---and I'm failing 100%".
I love it because I have lived it so many times.

12) One more Notting Hill. Spike to William: "I knew a girl at school called Pandora. Never got to see her box , though."
So obvious, but still a laugh out loud moment.

13) Notting Hill...last one....with apologies to the men....Anna and William..
Anna "Can I stay awhile?"
William: "You can stay forever." .....
Sorry guys, but just too sweet for words...

14) Two Weeks Notice. George: "I'm now poor. When I say poor, I mean we may have to share a helicopter with another family'.
Hugh Grant could read the phone book and make me laugh.

Ok, enough for now.I will accumulate a running list and trot them out whenvever Iam having a "sock drawer" day...

Memories of My Own Personal Dress Code

Next year, my children's school has decided to go with uniforms. I'm not sure what lead to this decision. Currently, there is a fairly innocuous dress code. For the boys: nice pants, jeans and polo tops. For the girls: skirts no shorter that 2 inches above the knee, no tank tops, no sweat pants. Pretty normal guidelines that seem to be abided by 99% of the kids. But for whatever the reason, the powers that be have decided that uniforms are the way to go.



I actually have mixed feelings on the subject, which are probably deeply seated and psychologically-based upon my up-bringing. As a child, my mother was very involved in my wardrobe decision-making process. In elementary school, I was one of the few kids whose "school clothes" and "church clothes" were interchangeable. This had to be a little bothersome in PE class and on the playground, but it must not have been too bad because I am not left with any traumatizing memories associated with this time. Middle school, or what we referred to as "junior high" is another story all together.

One of the exciting aspects of junior high was the fact that you were allowed to wear jeans. This was a major discussion among my friends, though back then, you basically had a choice between Levis and Wranglers (the difference being that your parents bought Wranglers, but you saved up your money for Levis). When my mother took me back-to-school shopping a few weeks before school started, I learned that jeans were not to be part of my personal dress code. She felt that they were not lady-like and "inappropriate", a word I grew to hate over the next few years since I heard it so much. I was privately heart-broken, as I felt my hope at being "cool" flying out the window. Those hopes were completely dashed the first day of school as she insisted I wear my hair in the dreaded "pig-tails" in order to keep it "out of the way" for PE class.

I may be the only person of my generation to make it through middle school without wearing a pair of jeans. I remember one of my friends who went to a different school asking me what "private school" I went to. She had assumed that what I wore must be under some sort of dress code. Thankfully, by the time I got to highschool, mom had loosened up a bit. My 3 brothers convinced her that my reputation would not be lost with a pair of Levis.

The most cringe-worthy memory of highschool wardrobe had to do with a swim party. Now I generally wasn't allowed at any party unless it was a child's birthday or something associated with the church. But for some reason, my mom agreed to letting me go to a swim party at a friend's house. This meant we had to go swimsuit shopping, and needless to say, I was worried. The only swimsuits I had were swim team suits, and I had meekly asked if we could get someting a little "prettier". I remember we headed to the department store at the mall. As we walked through the swimsuit department, my spirits soared as we walked past a rack of bikinis. Unfortunately, we turned left past them and headed toward the one-piece section. This was still ok. Maybe we could go with something strapless or plunging. But in the next moment, it was my hopes that were "plunging" as my mom said hello to Gladys, the 70 year old sales lady from the granny swimwear department. Gladys had been kind enought to lay out a few suits in advance for us. There was a nice black one-piece with granny pants and an attached mid-thigh skirt. There was also a purple flowered print with matching bathing cap. But the "winner" that mom and Gladys settled on was an orange and navy ("the colors are so young!") polka dot one piece with the modesty strap on the thigh and the cone-shaped breasts. As I walked into the dressing room to put it on, I actually had tears in my eyes. I remember walking out and hearing mom and Gladys go on and on about how terrific I looked. Gladys said she wished she could still carry something like that off. (I wished she would have carried it off.)

So home we went with the orange and navy suit. If you're thinking "Why didn't she just say no?", you have to understand that it was another time. I was truly appreciative that mom would buy me a suit. I knew she had my best interests at heart, and in the end, I wouldn't hurt her for anything. I didn't end up going to the party. I probably said I didn't feel good or something. But I do remember that later that year, I came home from school to find a true bikini laid out on my bed. I remember carrying it out with a big smile on my face and just staring at mom. "Only in the backyard and on family vacation." No problem, mom.

So today, when I consider dress code, I am flooded with ambiguity. It's safe and easy and appropriate, but it erases a little bit of the drama in life. It erases little bit of our ability to express who we are.

A friend of mine referred to what his daughter had picked out to wear to school one day as being from the "Pottery Barn homeless collection". Good for her.

Short and Sweet

All weekend I was mentally constructing an article in my mind about Valentine's Day. It has always been one of my favorite "holidays". I know it is overdone and over-commercialized, but any day where the words "I love you" or "I like you" or even, "I think you are cute" are thrown around, I'm good to go.
I heard great stories all weekend long about Valentine's gifts. From flowers left on doorsteps, to flowers sent to work when the person was out of town (uh-oh), to garlic presses to vacuum cleaners. The vacuum cleaner was actually the best story. I would love to go into detail, but that would spoil the absolute heartfelt and hilarious sentiment behind it!
Anyway, I had to forgo the mentally written article in my mind due to my husband's gift. Over the years, whenever I write anything, it ususally includes something humorous about Tony. In fact, he claims that he is my "fodder" for everything I write. Now whether or not I agree with him , I know I can't do it today.
Tony is the king of all gift -givers. From my first gift on Valentine's Day many years ago before we were officially dating (a stuffed animal placed in my car while I was at work) to carefully-planned trips to Paris for our anniversary, he has always been amazing in this respect.
This year was no different. The last few years, Valentine's Day has usually included a mug (refer to previous blog) with some kind of relavent comment or card. Saturday morning he walked over and gave me a folder. Now I'll preface this with saying that the last time he did this, it was the "trip to Paris" gift, so my heart kind of jumped. He grinned and said, "Don't be disapponted...no trip involved." Ok, no problem. Inside the folder was a pristine sheet of new collectable Audrey Hepburn stamps. The thing about this gift is that very few people know that I have a penchant for all things Audrey Hepburn. I mean, unless you paid really close attention to my life, you wouldn't even know it. But for Christmas, Tony gave me a new biography about her, and now, these stamps.
We women are always saying "It's the thought that counts. I just wanted him to put some thought into it!" and the thing is...he always does.
So today, no humor, no fodder. Just thanks.

I Took the Facebook Plunge

So I took the plunge a few weeks ago and joined facebook. Well, let me correct that. I actually started to join a few months ago. I heard my two daughters, Rachel and Kelly, talking about "updating their pages", and I thought I would just go on and take a look. I started it late at night, and about halfway through the process, I got bored and quit. I guess I actually completed the process, because for the next few days, I got random e-mails asking me if I wanted to confirm some people as "friends". Since I had no idea what that meant, I just ignored the whole thing.

Fast forward a few months, and I am talking with some writers who are describing their facebook pages and discussing how they are terrific networking opportunities to get to know some publishers and agents.

Now this spurred my interest, so I logged on again, and of course, my "secret password" was way too secret, so I had to go through that annoying process of setting a new password. After I completed this part, I began to panic a little bit. I have a tendancy towards extreme privacy, and somehow, this felt a little scary and vulnerable. But after a few deep breaths, I opened the page and filled out a little information (name, sex and marital status). Then I quickly closed the page and logged off. I needed to make sure that nothing bad would happen. What that was, I had absolutely no idea. I waited a few hours and logged back on...nothing. Just that blue face staring at me. I felt a little more calm now, so I got a bit brave and pressed the "find friends" button. It prompted me to open my address book and select all, and whoever was on facebook would be added as friends. This didn't soound too scary. I mean, I didn't review my address book or anything, but I knew I didn't have any mass murderers in there, so I hesitated, took a deep breath, and hit "send". Of course I had to log off at this point, as I again begin to feel a little exposed.
The next morning, I got on again, and lo and behold, I had some "friends" . There were some surprises, some friends and family who I did not know were "closet" facebookers. Then there were some acquaintences who I now know more about than I wanted to. (I'm actually just kidding, but it's amazing the things some people are comfortable "sharing".)
I enjoyed being a voyeur for a few days, just looking on everyone's page and trying to figure out how to participate. I finally broke down and told my daughters that I was on. For some reason they found this extremely funny. Rachel told me to not to delve "too deeply" into their sites for fear I might be offended. When I asked her if that meant she posted nude pictures or something, she dropped the phone laughing.
The next day Rachel sent me a message: "Mom, good grief...loose the blue face. Post a picture. Write something on your wall." I had no choice, I had to do it. It was like a dare and I didn't want to fail. So I downloaded a picture and wrote a note. And guess what? It wasn't bad. It was actually kind of liberating. In the following few days, I created an album and posted a link to my blog. Now it started to feel "useful" and "productive" which are two of my favorite things.

I read an article yesterday about a man who let his wife know that he was divorcing her on his facebook page before he told her in person. I suppose this is facebook at its worst. But I have to admit, besides that fact that I have made some good contacts, it's been kind of fun.
Maybe next will be Twitter...

It Wasn't About Me

After completing a few blogs, I decided to send them to my daughter, Rachel. She is also a writer, and I thought she might enjoy them. A few minutes later, I received an e-mail stating that the blogs were very enjoyable, but "thanks for not mentioning me in either one."
Now the subject of the first blog was about my 6th grade son's school conference. Upon review, I was pretty sure that it would have been tough to introduce her into the subject at hand. The second one concerned my cabinet full of kitchen mugs and the meaning behind some of them Now again, Rachel has never given me a mug,or even discussed said mugs with me, so I was doubtful that I could have brought her into that one either.
Feeling a bit let down and searching for some support, I sent my husband a link to the blog and asked him to read them at his convenience. A short time later, I received an e-mail stating " very enjoyable, but I notice I was not mentioned in either one". Now, this was troubling on so many levels since a) he WAS mentioned b) he was mentioned towards the end of the piece and c) who cares if was mentioned anyway? What this immediately told me was that he had not bothered to read more than a couple of sentences. When I responded back and asked him, his answer was that "if you are not mentioned in the first paragraph, it does not matter."
Again, I was a little disappointed, but I recalled that he had also bristled last year when I started a fictional novel with two characters called Nina and Ben. I have in the past written a novel that used my husband as the "leading man", but this particular story was not about him, nor anyone else we know. Purely fictional. There was a slight flirtation in the first chapter between the two leading characters, Nina and Ben. After reading the first chapter, Tony sent it back to me under the title "Nina the Slut". Suffice it to say that I decided to take the novel in a different direction.
Last year, I published an article in the local newspaper about my son's All-star baseball team. It was a sentimental and slightly humorous take on the season. I was very excited to have him read it, but again, a bit disappointed when his only comment was "Why did you mention my dirty clothes?" Once again thrust into confusion, I read the article to my 9 year old daughter Gabrielle, thinking she would come to my rescue, but her only comment was "It's pretty good, but what's up with the picture of you?"
In conclusion, I wonder if Shakespeare had to deal with this kind of criticism? Ok, maybe not Shakespeare, but what about, say, John Grisham? Do you think his kids ask why he doesn't mention them? Do you suppose his wife complains if the leading lady is not based on her?
I'm thinking of only sending the next one to friends.

Morning Mug

I have a cabinet in my kitchen that is reserved for mugs. Everyone who is in my kitchen for any amount of time knows about it. Each morning, the first thing I do when I walk in my kitchen at 6:28 is open my mug cabinet and choose a mug. It's kind of like choosing an outfit for the day. I'm not sure what it means psychologically, but I do know that before I choose one, I kind of gauge my mood for the day.
I would say I have accumulated approximately 40 mugs. Every few years, I weed out the ones that have no particular meaning to me. These would include the generic mugs that might come in a random gift basket or something.
Most of the mugs I have invoke a special memory or emotion. First, there are the mugs with my children's artwork in them. When I was little, we just brought home a picture that we had colored from school. Now, the kids bring home artwork that can be purchased. You can choose, or let me re-phrase that, you Have to choose from mugs, totes, picture frames...all sorts of little kitchy stuff. (If you don't purchase anything, you are forever known as the mother who didn't care enough to buy her child's artwork) I always choose the mug, so to begin with, I have 2 lovely mugs with Matt and Ellie's artwork. I also have the lovely mug that my daughter, Kelly, made for me at the pottery-themed birthday party she attended in middle school. This is actually one of my favorites. It is a soft purple color with a green trim, and I can still remember the sweet look on Kel's face when she gave it ot me. I reach for it many mornings, unless I feel I am going to need a lot of coffee. It isn't microwaveable (I found this out by burnng my hand), so there are some days that it just won't work.
Next, there are the ones that my husband gives me on special days. He has traditionally given me one on New Years, so I have a few that are dated, with ballons and stuff, and then there are also some that he obviously chose because he thought I would like the color. Then there are the Valentine's Day mugs that say "Kiss me" and other cute little sayings. These are classified as "emotional" mugs. If Tony and I are fighting, these get shoved to the back of the cabinet.
Next are the random mugs that I have picked up on my own. These are likely to be ones with cute little sayings like "I'd rather be in Paris". They make me smile or laugh, and I usually go for those when I need to be cheered up.
Lastly, there are the ones that are sentimental. When my mother-in-law passed away, I ended up with a set of her coffee mugs. They are yellow with polka dots, and I find that I reach for those a lot lately. They remind me of Rose and they make me feel good. She used to open the mug cabinet and ask "Do you mind if Iuse this one?" That always made me laugh. As if I would only allow her to use certain ones. Then she would pause and take her time choosing one. I loved that.
Funny the way little things can make or break your day.
I love my mugs.

School Conferences

Do you ever wonder why you feel so nervous about the dreaded school conference? My 6th grader Matthew has a conference tomorrow at 11:00. We have already had a short discussion on what he needs to wear, or rather, what he should not wear. His teacher has instructed the students to "avoid looking too weekend casual." This is code for "Don't wear shorts and t-shirts". He attends a private school and they have a dress code. Basically he has a choice of khaki pants or khaki pants. If he gets tired of that, he can always go with khaki pants. So tomorrow, the one thing he refuses to wear is khaki pants. He has decided on jeans and a t-shirt, but he will come down at the last minute tomorrow in his gym shorts and t-shirt and pretend like he has forgotten our conversation. When I remind him of his teacher's words, he will stomp very slowly back up the stairs and mumble something about "dumb old pants."
Somehow it seems that the focus shouldn't be on what he wears anyway. I may let him go with the gym shorts