NYEstimate.

Its 6:45p.m. on New Year's Eve. I am not a fan of this holiday, particularily in a city like Chicago where the norm to go out is $150 cover to fight for drinks. I considered going out of town to do something smaller and different but that didn't work out. So, my backup plan for the night was a bottle of bubbly and movies on my couch. The only problem is that I generally call that a Sunday. Despite NYE being an entirely arbitrary forced bit of festivity, I still feel like the night should be at least something. Missy and I caucused and came up with a plan.

The plan is amalgam of some of my favorite low-key things to do during 2009: sushis, prosecco and Theory. We are ordering some sushi (with mochi, of course) and then heading over to Theory. It is one of those annoying cover, fight for drinks things. For most people. Due to our loyalty, I emailed the owner and asked if they were sold out on tables. Despite the late notice, he is saving us a table (I suspect creating it out of nowhere) and wants to charge us only 1/3 of the normal price. That, we won't allow.

In the abstract, my estimate is that this NYE will be the perfect way to ring in the new year and the new decade. I think knowing what you like and doing it is a way to start the year off on the right foot. Fingers crossed, the night works out according to plan.

Drama Drag: This Time With Pictures!

Its been over a month but I finally received pictures from Drama Drag: Africa. First, these were my Thanksgiving guests in their drag personas, Angelina and Kiera:

When I stopped by to see my brother before heading to the airport, I got a tour of their house. Last time I was there, they were in the process of moving in. Now, they are settled. Part of the tour was the garage, or as Joel called it, "the gay-rage." (Yes, I was mad that I didn't come up with that one myself.) Instead of storing a car or other such things in the garage, Joel turned it into a giant drag closet. Now that Walter is living there, the gay-rage is complete. They have far more women's clothing than me, probably more than my mom and my wardrobe's combined actually. Without a doubt, more sequin, fringe, feather and fake fur than I have seen in one place in my life. Ditto with the shoes.

This is my all-but-brother-in-law, Angelina SX:

A close-up is helpful. Note that even the contacts are Zebra-like.

My family, minus the males: me, Angelina, mom, and my cousin (who, I will note that now lives with my parents but I never met until Thanksgiving. Putting the fun in dysfunction):

This is an awful picture of me. As you can tell from my expression, I knew there was no way that I, a mere straight girl with only the slighest grasp of make-up could compete with these. Nonetheless, this is me with la Nina Flowers and Angelina. The scary make-up belies the super nice person beneath when it comes to Nina. That said, I have no idea how she fit the Africa theme that she set.

Finally, a picture of me and the photographer. I only realized tonight that her maiden name could easily be a drag name: Amber Wood.

Achoo-ho-ho!

In what I fear may be a pattern, I came down with a cold on Tuesday. As I walked to court that morning, I told my mom that I was feeling fine. And, it wasn't a lie. However, by 3:00 p.m, I had a cold. From fine to sick in 6 hours. A similar thing happened to me right before Thanksgiving. However, this time, I wasn't flying anywhere. The plan was to drive up to Wisconsin on Christmas Eve and return on Christmas night, depending on the weather.

Instead, I was sneezing and coughing on Thursday morning so all parties agreed it was best I stay in Chicago. So I spent Christmas alone with my germs. And, surprisingly, it wasn't bad. It wasn't festive but it wasn't bad. We weren't planning on exchanging gifts so all I missed out on were a few meals. For example, rather than our traditional roast, brussel sprouts and baby Jesus birthday cake (angel food cake), I had nothing but mimosas on Friday. But, I made the most of it, at least from a productive perspective: I did some work, cleaned out my guest room, did my laundry, and generally made things tidier than they have been in awhile.

I'm just hoping I don't get another cold on Tuesday before the New Year.

Ho-Ho-Holiday Week.

Today was a good day. Work was fairly quiet. The partners are partially out of town which means the potential for an unexpected meeting was less. So much so that I was able to join a friend for a late lunch.

The quiet was broken by an email reminding me of some outstanding memoranda and setting an unfortunate deadline -- Christmas day -- for their completion. 12-25 is a Friday and the person who set the deadline does not celebrate the holiday so not entirely crazy.

Today was also the day that new partners were announced, including a couple of my friends. Good for them. In a celebratory mood, Missy and I decided to play Santa and deliver our gifts to the staff of our gym. Perhaps unsurprisingly, we got everyone a bottle of prosecco. My old cheerleading skills came in handy this morning as I made the labels for each of 20 bottles. I think the bottles were well-received but I guess its the thought that counts if anyone doesn't like it. At least, I hope.

After playing Santa, it was only 6:30. We could have gone to Theory but Missy suggested an old favorite that has fallen to the wayside during the past months due to house guests, friends and other commitments. We drank a bunch of prosecco, ate a bunch of sushi (including my fav, mochi, for dessert) and watched two movies: Four Christmases (very funny, highly recommend) and The Holiday (not as funny but nonetheless cute and recommended).

Ho ho holiday week.

P. S. Happy Solstice.

Masquerade.

Tonight was a masquerade party honoring one of my friend's 40th birthday. The party was at Le Passage in the Triangle, beginning at 10pm. I don't like the Triangle and I certainly don't like starting at 10pm. I'm too old for that. In college, if I went out before 11, it was "so early." But, I'm 30 now and if I stay out past 10 its notable. But it wasn't my birthday. I decided to make the most of it.

I'm not the best with make-up. I wanted to do something more fun than usual -- it was a masquerade after all -- and for that, I needed help. As my drag queens were unavailable, I made an appointment at a makeup counter at Nordstrom. The girl kept warning me it would look like a lot of makeup (because it was) but I didn't care. From there, it was off to Theory to kill time until it was closer to party time. As we were walking and watching football, we got quite a few looks, including some disapproving mothers. We took that as a sign of mission accomplished.

We got to the club on-time. There is nothing worse than hosting a party and waiting for guests to make their entrance, fashionably late. The place was so empty at first that the only people there besides our group were two tranvestites. I'd call them drag queens but that would be an insult to the craft with the bad wig, clothing choices and the like. Maybe they were drag queen wannabes, judging by the dance moves. One was wearing wedge boots. I'm pretty sure that's training wheels for transvestites, easing into heels. Anyway, the night was fun and I think our birthday girl really enjoyed herself. Especially a video Heather made, collecting clips from our British birthday girl's family across the pond.

The only negative for me was around 3 am when I swear that I saw the ghosts of Christmas future. It was about five Real Housewife-looking, divorcee-looking, cougar-looking women dancing around, trying to attract some male attention. I know that doesn't sound bad but it was just so awful to watch. Women don't become That Guy at the bar. They turn into Those Women. My friends, Heather and Todd, witnessed the ghosts too. As a couple, they didn't have the same reaction but totally understood mine and offered to put me out of my misery if I ever became anything like that. That's what I call good friends.

Goodwill Hunting.

As I was growing up, my mother always dictated that if I had not worn something in a year, I needed to donate it. Its a good rule of thumb for me. I usually wear things to death so if I haven't worn them in awhile, its unlikely that I will be wearing it in the future. Its a habit that stuck with me even after moving out and my mom could no longer forcibly enforce it. So every six months or so, I clean out my closet and gather my goodwill pile. Unfortunately, I've lately suffered from execution issues -- actually getting the bags to goodwill to donate. In past years, I've been so lazy, I have actually donated the bags when I was in Wisconsin because I was going to be in the car anyway and knew where the place was.

After five years, I really have no excuse though. In anticipation of my mom spending more time in Chicago in 2010, I decided to clean out my guest closet, aka the place where my goodwill pile lives. My delay in donating meant that I had 7 rather full bags to donate. After taking a bag every day when I went to the car, I was finally ready to take it to the store. Google did the hunting for me. And, would you believe, a Goodwill store is just a few blocks from one of my friend's places. Now, I feel even worse for letting it collect so long. But, better late than never, right?

A Case of the Tuesdays.

Yesterday was a great day. Particularly considering it was a Monday. I started my morning with spin class for the first time in weeks due to sickness and travel and felt fantastic as I walked into work. I had cooperative opposing counsel and checked several things that had been annoying me off my work to-do list. I had lunch with a friend at N9ne and managed to be disciplined and not eat the delicious cheeseburger. Things were going so well, I decided to buy my Megamillions ticket early. And surprisingly, that did not jinx my day. The afternoon was fine and I even left work early at 6 to do some last minute holiday shopping before my holiday dinner with the Trump Girls.

Today, not so much. My workout was guaranteed sore muscles tomorrow. Turkish Get-Ups? Not for the weak of knee. I was PigPen getting ready: ran my tights (a tough feat in and of itself), found a hole in the side seam of my dress, and spilled my coffee repeatedly. Thankfully, I was wearing boots and a sweater that covered the respective holes but still. My work yesterday was undone when the client yelled at me for a mistake he made. (Totally fixable and the partner knew it was not my fault so no harm, no foul, but the tone!) I went to a lunch meeting only to be one of about 20 people who didn't get any lunch because they had under-ordered. I ended my day by revising a draft (no big deal) and more problematically, the draft's footnotes. I left work at 10:30 p.m., having revised 70 footnotes, only 430 to go. Something to look forward to tomorrow.

Unless, I wake up on Wednesday a Megamillionaire. $weet dream$ are mine tonight.

Holiday Cheers!

Tonight was the Trump Girls' holiday dinner. Given the various work and social commitments between the five of us, Monday, December 14th was the best we could do for a date that all of us could get together for dinner before the holidays. We will all be at a birthday party on Saturday together but tonight was just the five of us, doing what we do best: drinking, eating, talking and celebrating our friendship.

The Trump Girls are the best thing that happened to me during 2009. Girls who are unwaveringly supportive, diverse in their professional lives but similar in their upbringing and senses of humor. We've had so many great times over the course of the past year. In every life a little rain must fall but that never stopped us. After a rain delay, we kayaked the Chicago River. Despite torrential rain, we've attended the Chicago Magazine's Singles party honoring one of our own. Also in the pouring rain, we attended Glamorama and Fashion Focus Chicago organized by one of our own. In better weather, we had the Air and Water Show, brunch before the farmer's market, galas, happy hours, and, of course, where it all began, the gym.

We had dinner at Bistro 110 where just by virtue of being local -- rather than the normal tourists found on Michigan Ave -- we received an amuse from the chef (mushroom ravioli), an extra glass of wine, when my glass was the only empty but we didn't want to order another bottle, and free, delicious desserts. The conversation was wide-ranging, from an upcoming book, to holiday plans, to personal life updates, to Tiger. (What is a get-together these days without an analysis of Tiger? Holiday topic 2009, without a doubt.)

It was a wonderful dinner. And now, to assuage my yuppie guilt, the Greater Chicago Food Depository will get a donation. The Greater Chicago Food Depository is one of a handful of charities that I make an effort to support, given the good work they do to feed the hungry in the Chicago area. Whenever I go out for any sort of indulgent dinner, I make a donation at least equal to my portion of the bill. Having a delicious dinner and delightful time with my companions always feels even better when I know I've donated to allow others to have a meal they wouldn't otherwise.

Cheers to the holidays, good friends and good times in 2010!

How Suite It Is.

The Bulls stink. They have lost eight of the last eleven games by 20 points or more. I would not pay to attend a game with the way they are playing. I like basketball a lot but those type of games are hard to watch, especially for $50. Thankfully, I didn't have to pay last night to see the Celtics play.

One of my friends works for an investment management fund that has boxes at most of the Chicago sports venues. He was hosting the Bulls box last night. He had an extra ticket that I was lucky enough to get to use. The game was awful -- I've seen better ball handling by high school teams -- but I rather enjoyed myself. While my friend played the good host, I had all I needed for a good night: sports, snacks, and drinks.

Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor Snow . . .

Despite Monday's snow in Chicago, I made it to New York without incident. While New York was not a tropical vacation -- or a vacation at all -- but it was much better than expected. There were long hours on Monday, but Tuesday and Wednesday were normal to short days. Partners, opposing counsel, and witnesses were all actually nice to me for the most part. Oh me of little faith.

The weather outside was a bit frightful though. On Wednesday morning, I decided to walk to opposing counsel's office. It was only six blocks or so. Unfortunately, it was pouring. My shoes got so wet that they didn't dry out until Friday evening. On my way, I passed Rockefeller Center and the tree. Despite it being 9:15 am, it was lit and festive which was a nice countervailing point to the pouring rain.

The interview went well and fast. So much so that I was able to get on a flight that was supposed to take off 1.5 hours early. Due to snow in Chicago, it was delayed a bit but I still made it back in time to raise a $1 glass of prosecco in celebration of Theory's one-year anniversary. I could show the Chicago post office a thing or two about fulfilling its credo when it comes to attending events.

S-NO-W!

I realize we're a week into December already but I just was not mentally prepared for snow. I read the forecast last night, my aching body confirmed it, and I woke up to maybe half an inch on the ground this morning. Its pretty but that's all it has going for it in my opinion today.

Today, I get to pay a visit to O'Hare. If only it was to go on vacation to a location with threat of sunburn and drinks with umbrellas. I'd even take a business trip to somewhere warm. Instead, I'm going to New York where this weather will follow me. On the positive side, I do like how festive New York looks during the holidays.

Being charitable.

This morning was the Jingle Bell Run, a 5K run/walk benefitting the Arthritis Foundation. I organized a team to do the walk and raise some money for the Arthritis Foundation. I woke up to see 20 degrees and flurries. Given that I am still not 100%, this was not ideal. But, it was my obligation and I was driving the bus this morning, stopping to pick up Laura, Missy and Heather on the way to the Field Museum, so there was no option to just stay in bed. As the girls said, they must love me because I don't think any of us, including me, had nice thoughts about me and my Jingle Bell Run idea this morning. But, we put on our Santa hats, had some coffee (thanks to Missy) and away we went.

For the record, I think that for an event benefitting people with arthritis, a run in December is just mean. Running and cold both aggravate my arthritis. I've said it before but my favorite thing about having arthritis is that it gives me an excuse not to do something I've always hated anyway. We decided that a better benefit for arthritis would be a spa day or bingo or something. Anything but a run in the cold.

This is the second charity walk that this group of girls has done together. And, this is the second charity walk that we have messed up the course. We are charitable cheaters. But not intentionally. We are smart women but we just can't seem to get it right. We are fast walkers and good chatters. Its a dangerous combination for actually following a course. Instead of a 5K, we probably ended up doing a 3K.

We were done by 8:45 am, in time for spin class. After dropping off one of my teammates, I was heading to the gym with the rest of the girls. By the time we got to the gym, we were convinced that breakfast would be a much better idea than spin. We walked over to Grand Lux Cafe, had ourselves some breakfast cocktails and omlets and continued our chatting and joking.

To call it a workout this morning, would be very charitable. To call it a good time, would be an understatement.

The Bronchy.

My sickness was diagnosed as bronchitis. I had forgotten just how much the bronchy hurts. . . or how long it takes to recover. Thanks to a z-pack, I was improved by the time I boarded my flight to Colorado on Tuesday. Now, a full week later, I've hit a health plateau. I'm much improved but my cough remains my constant companion. I re-filled the z-pack and am hoping for a return to 100% soon. I have to hit the ground running when I return to Chicago with two major deadlines on December 9th and the Jingle Bell run this Saturday. I just hope Chicago's relatively mild winter so far continues through the run on Saturday morning. A 5K in the teens is not my idea of holiday cheer.

Drama Drag.

Friday night was the last Friday of the month. And, at a certain club in Denver, that means its Drama Drag night. Drama Drag is hosted by the loca, Nina Flowers. Nina was the runner-up on RuPaul's Drag Race, the search for America's Next Drag Superstar. At my brother's suggestion, I watched all of the episodes thanks to the magic of the internets and Nina was my favorite. Actually, Nina Flowers scares me but her alter-ego Jorge was a sweetheart.
As it turns out, my brother is friends with Nina/Jorge because his boyfriend does drag too. Joel's drag name was originally Juicy Mai Tai (my belief was he should have called himself Flaming Dr. Pepper and got it over with if he wanted to go with drink names). He has since switched his drag name a couple of times. Its currently Angelina SX. Both Joel and our other Thanksgiving guest, Walter/Kiera, were performing on Friday at 11:30 pm.

So, Friday evening, my mom, cousin and I headed down to Denver. My brother's best friend from high school and his wife were meeting us there. They got lost as they went to a club by the same name. They realized they were in the wrong place when everything was too straight. We were holding down a good spot on the dance floor near the stage. But, as it got closer to show time, we got pushed around a bit and out of our spot to a slightly less advantageous spot. I did not pack anything for going to a club, but my reasoning for that was born out -- not a single person there was interested in me. I was surrounded by sweaty, occasionally half-naked men who could not be less-interested in me so my jeans and t-shirt were perfectly appropriate.

The show itself was great. Unfortunately, my camera was less-so as I only had my blackberry camera for most of the show. I'm hoping to get better pictures emailed to me. Nina can definitely work a crowd. Both of my Thanksgiving guests did a great job. They also are both better at makeup and hair than I am. Oh well.

Thankful.

Thanksgiving was probably the nicest overall holiday with my family in years-- and I don't even particularly like Thanksgiving!

As usual, my brother was late, unless his definition of mid-morning actually means 11:15. However, we are used to his late ways so it gave us time to make a gratin and have a morning cocktail before his arrival. And, as usual, he made an entrance. This time, accompanying him was his boyfriend, a friend who is staying with them for awhile after a breakup, and their combined total of three dogs.

Our brunch of mimosas, gratin, grapefruit and kringle (all home-made) induced four food comas. Every male in the house was knocked out for the next two-to-four hours. In the meantime, my mom and I cooked up a storm. Despite what some people think, I'm actually quite a decent cook and a rather wonderful sous chef as I love to dice and chop and always clean up as I go. By the time everyone woke up, our dinner was essentially done. And, dinner was amazing. My mom has always been a good cook but in the 12 years since I left for college, she has morphed into a great cook who puts out restaurant-quality food. [N.B. Gym and I are going to have to have a friend-aissance upon my return. Mom has been feeding me so well.] After gorging themselves and stocking up with leftovers, my brother, boyfriend and friend left. Not one argument or snide comment was made by me for once -- my tongue had bite marks but apparently, everyone but my tongue appreciated my discretion.

In short, I'm thankful for: a great holiday with my family; delicious food cooked by mom; persuading my mom that she needs to take next semester off to recover her health; getting to hang out with my dad for five days straight; and, my friends who I miss and am looking forward to sipping prosecco with upon my return.

Rookie Mistakes.

I am in Colorado with my parents for Thanksgiving for the first time
in some years. And, I've been looking forward to getting here for
awhile as I haven't been back since January and a lot has changed
around here -- redone basement, cousin living with them, etc. So, I
wasn't going to let bronchitis stop me. Don't look at me like that. I
am on my third dose of the z-pac and no longer contagious even if
people look at you like you're Typhoid Mary if you cough in public
these days. And don't worry, there is no way I will be cooking for
people unlike T.M.

I got to the airport with intentionally extra time knowing that its a
busy travel week filled with people who never travel. I head to the
priority security line that is usually faster because its filled with
people who have status on the airline for traveling frequently. Rookie
mistake number one. Usually is the operative word. Except around
holidays when those premier executives share their status and bring
little Suzy, little Billy, Uncle Fred and Grandma with them, and they
never have travelled before.

I'm usually smug in my security screening efficiency. This time I had
a bit of a question mark because I was bringing an injection with me
for the first time. And, I sure did get a bag check. But not for the
injection. No, no. For the cleanser I was bringing back for my mom.
Totally forgot about it and definitely more than 3 ounces.
Consficated. Rookie mistake. I'm ashamed of me.

As a bonus to consficating $35 worth of cleanser, I got to explain the
tranny Spice Girl boots. I'm donating them to a drag queen in need.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Sunday not-Funday

I pulled myself together and went to work this morning for a meeting with two partners about an ongoing, massive project. "Pulled [] together" is in a loose definition of the phrase as I was ponytailed, wearing jeans and my dad's high school t-shirt which has that Abercrombie-"distressed" look to it. They don't make shirts like this any more. It is actual two separate layers of super-soft cotton sewn together. I stole it from my dad some years ago and its my equivalent of comfort food in t-shirts. Its the best.

The meeting was with one senior partner who was leaving for vacation in Spain this afternoon and wanted to give us (me) my marching orders for the ten days while he is gone. It was the other partner's birthday today -- quite a present to start the day by meeting with the senior partner and sniffing, coughing me. Not really ideal for me to attend but the option not to attend was non-existent. The outcome of the meeting was for me to turn around a complete interview outline and nutshell of key questions as well as re-write an 180-page document in the next 10 days. On the plus side, this won't interfere with me going to Colorado this week as planned. On the minus side, it likely means that I will have to do a lot more work in Colorado than I want.

After the meeting, I went to Walgreens armed with a "basics of illness" list from my dad. As a pharmacist, he was dismayed at the woeful state of my home supplies (read: lots of advil, not so much anything else). I purchased his list, including the cough medicine and sudafed necessary for my current illness, and stocked up on some juice. I'm now on the couch, working and napping intermittently. Sunday Funday its not.

:(

All week, a cold was being ridiculously forward in its flirtations. I tried to reject the cold. I skipped the gym, I went to bed early, I did everything. Hell, I was even at the doctor for my yearly physical. The doctor told me that it was too bad I was sick because she couldn't give me the piggy vaccine. But otherwise, I was just not-well. Yesterday, I woke up feeling better but took a turn from not-well to sick during the afternoon.

Now, I could ask my friends to drop off some cough medicine or juice (unsurprisingly, my apartment is very poorly equipped for illness) but I really just want those things to magically appear and just be left to my wallowing. I'm actually aching from inactivity today. I have done nothing but watch football, cough, watch two movies, nap, cough, and sneeze. Not ideal but I've had enough of being sick so I've decided that I will be 100% tomorrow. Just in time for a 10:00 am work meeting on a Sunday.

I think my health's return would be guaranteed if my mom were here to make me a grilled cheese and stroke my hair. Something magical about mom's medicine.

Over the river and through the woods.

I went to Wisco this weekend to visit my grandmother. She is a not-old-74 (particularly not-old considering that I'm 30), who has a wide variety of cultural commitments that fill up her days. She is always going to the symphony, the ballet, the theater, to lecture series or book groups. She fits more culture into a month than I have into the past ten years combined. Although, to be fair to myself, I have a job.

Anyway, grandma and I were planning on going to see a dance performance by a troupe called Luna Negra, from Chicago. I suspect that grandma was not particularly interested in their style of dance, a folk Cuban dancing judging by the description, and my presence gave her an excuse not to go. Instead, we went to get a delicious hamburger and custard for dessert. I almost never eat hamburgers but I love them. Its a quasi-tradition that we go out for a burger when I'm in Wisco.

And, custard is definitely a tradition. Hell, custard might even be a cult in Wisco. There are various camps among those in the Milwaukee area as to whether they prefer Gilles' or Kopps or one other custard stand I can never remember. Note: proper pronunciation is not Gill-ies but Gill-es', named after the Gilles family. I am on the losing side of proper pronunciation but wanted to note it for the record. My family are Gilles' loyalists, as my mom and her siblings went to school with GIlles kids and my grandfather patronized it essentially from its establishment. Bud Selig is probably the most famous Gilles' customer. Anyway, a trip to Wisco is not complete for me without a junior turtle sundae at Gilles'. Its incredibly bad for you but oh-so-delicious.

As is typical, the trip to Wisco was a quiet one. Sat around, watched football, and chatted with grandma when I wasn't ingesting more calories in a meal than a normal week. And a bonus: Wisco is a powerball state so I diversified my lottery playing by buying a ticket while I was up there. Can't put all your eggs in one lottery basket.

pad see-EWWW!

Friday evening was happy hour at Theory.  Missy came for a drink but it was really me, Heather and Todd.  We had a great time and time just flew by.  At 10:45 pm, we ran across the street to put in a to-go order from VTK.  Love me some thai foodies.  Todd gave me my order (pad thai, not pad see-ew but its not as funny) and I placed it in my bag, nicely balanced.  Or so I thought. 

 

Of course, it wasn't balanced.  At least not well enough to be lugged around and jostled while getting into a cab.  So it leaked.  Into my bag.  While I love thai food, I do not love the smell of old thai food. And, now, everything that was in my bag, including my bag, laptop, papers, etc. 

 

I love my bag but I do not love its aroma right now.  My first attempt was just febreeze.  Did not do it.  Grandma suggested baking soda.  That helped.  My mom suggested kitty litter.  I'm getting some on my way home today.  I will try it all to rescue this guy from becoming a pad thai tragedy.

Spicing It Up.

Belated so I will cut to the punch line: my Ginger boots are being donated to a drag queen in need and Laura, who was kind enough to host our pre-party, is STILL finding little curly black hairs from Missy's wig around her apartment. Both funny, both hard to explain.

For me, the best part of the night was the pre-party, where we finished our transformation into the Spice Girls. Missy's afro wig for Scary Spice had too much volume so I gave it a hair cut -- hence the curly black hairs everywhere. At the capable and expert hands of the Schwartz sisters, my hair magically had volume. Mind you it took a serious deep conditioning to get my hair back to normal but it was noteworthy volume. Heather and Todd were such a good Posh and Becks that I couldn't believe that they hadn't done it before. The Schwartzes were perfect as Sporty and Baby.

From there, we went to a house party and then the Galaween at the Chicago Cultural Center. Both were a fun time, but I have to admit that they were less fun for me than the pre-party. It was just so good to see my friends in the same place for the first time since early September. However, I will never ever wear those boots again. Upon hearing that -- and their size -- my brother requested that rather than get rid of them, I bring them to CO at Thanksgiving to donate to a drag queen in need of platform, red, lace-up boots. And who am I to deny a drag queen?

Moral: funny night, spicing it up.

Yawn.

I keep intending to write about my Spice Girls Halloween but I've been distracted by my actual job this week. Over the last three days, I've billed 45 hours. I'm not a girl cut out for repeatedly pulling doubles. I need my sleep. Hopefully, I will have a lazy weekend where I will finally get to post my picture of my Ginger boots. I fear that hope might not come to fruition but my fingers are crossed.

Statue of Liberty.

While single and over 30, I have some incredible friends who are my family here. They are my Statue of Liberty ladies, the ones who say "give me your tired, your poor . . . " and will be there. When a job review goes badly, they will be there to listen to me cry and will muster the anger for me. If a relationship goes wrong, they are there to tell me I was always too good for that anyway. And, if something great happens, they are going to buying tickets to the event to cheer. If its Wednesday and we made it over the hump, they will raise a glass. In short, they are the best.

My mom, Missy and I had dinner this spring. It was at dinner, that we realized that our generation is very different from those who preceding us and very lucky regarding our friends. A lot of us have moved away from our biological families to pursue our careers and have made our own little local families of girlfriends in our adopted homes. When my mom had her knees replaced, her mother came out to take care of her. When her mom had a knee replaced, my mom came to take care of her. Knowing that knee replacement is in my future, my mom pondered who would care for me if she was unable for some reason. To her generation, you would never ask a friend to deal with that. It is not a thought that would ever cross her mind. She has a lot of friends, but they are not such friends that she would ask them to see her at her very worst. For me, it would never cross my mind that my friends would not step up. Knee replacement is an ugly thing, with oozing, seeping, and a lot of pain. And, my girls would be there if my mom could not be. A lot of have seen me in the morning at the gym, half-awake and dripping with sweat. Some of them have seen me bereft with disappointment. These are my girls. If I were to die unexpectedly, I know that my friends would do me the courtesy of browbeating my landlords to let them in to tidy my place up so that my parents would not have to deal with that in their grief. Its just what friends do in our era.

Today was an annoying day for me and I just wanted to get out of the office. Missy sympathized and offered up sushi, prosecco and Project Runway if I felt like coming over. Could not imagine better on this rainy Thursday evening. I went home to change and to chill some bubbs before heading over to her place. There is something important about having a friend who knows you well enough to accept you in your sweats, to order food and drinks prosecco, watch TV and have a perfectly lovely, rainy Thursday night.

Due Diligence.

Halloween is a mere three days away at this point. I am generally awful at coming up with costume ideas. Thankfully, this year, it was done for me. Melissa came up with a group costume for the Trump Girls, the Lauras, Andrea, Missy and Heather. We're going to be the Spice Girls! According to Melissa, some of the casting was just so obvious: Heather as Posh, Andrea as Baby, Laura as Sporty and me as Ginger. I always end up as the redhead despite my protests -- I was born a redhead but am not a redhead now, except in the right light.

As part of our costuming, Melissa found herself some leopard print leggings, black wedge boots and a gold sequin skirt. I ordered a British flag dress (which because it is crazy-short and its almost November and chilly, will be worn with jeans) and some red, vinyl, platform boots. The boots are just awful -- they are PERFECT. Heather has it easy with a tight, black dress and stilettos. Laura has the most comfortable with gym clothes. Andrea's actually might be tough -- its hard to find pastel, babydoll dresses these days.

Honestly, I was concerned that we had overdone it.

That is, until I did my due diligence and watched Spice World tonight. Scary Spice wore so much animal print it was, well, scary. As it turns out, I was well cast as Ginger is depicted as being a fountain of useless trivia. However, I also learned that Geri NEVER wore pants. She must be Lady Gaga's role model. As noted, I will definitely be wearing pants so I guess I won't be true to character.

All that is left to do before Halloween is to download the best-of album to play at our pre-party. So excited to spice it up on Saturday!

Lessons Disregarded.

As part of payment of my debt to society -- or at least, that portion of society represented by insurance companies --for making an illegal right turn on red, I spent part of Saturday doing online traffic school. During the course of which, I learned a few things:

1. In Illinois, it is illegal to change lanes within 100 feet of an intersection, coming or going. They must write this rule in extremely fine print based on my observations. It seems like you're lucky when people don't change lanes in the middle of the intersection.

2. A full stop is defined to be your odometer at zero, and your car rocking back and forth. By that definition, I'm not sure I've ever come to a full stop on my own volition at a stop sign. Unless someone is in front of me, fully stopping, I apparently do rolling stops -- I never rock back and forth, even though my odometer is at zero.3. The traffic school recommends that every time you have a green light and proceed through an intersection, you should take your foot off the gas and cover the brake with your foot, so that you are prepared to stop at any moment.
Online traffic school is a good way to avoid a ticket on your record. Unfortunately, the program will not do it at your own speed, and much like in driving, my speed is fast so I was a bit bored. And, while I noted the above lessons and others -- I got 100% -- on my test, I have to admit that I've already disregarded these lessons in favor of not getting in an accident for following all the rules while driving in Chicago.

3.

I blame Britney Spears for this post.

Missy and I planned to have lunch today to share the details of our weekends, specifically her date on Friday night. While we had plans, we had company that was not quite appropriate for the details. So, we agree to meet for a drink post-work and training.

Missy got to Theory first and snagged us some seats at the bar. After a long, unproductive day, I had gotten on a roll in the last few hours so I was a little late as I finished something up. Thankfully, three people next to Missy at the bar had kept her entertained during my tardiness. How? By openly and loudly, discussing a possible threesome they might have. When I walked in, they were debating the pros and cons, including how to deal with anyone feeling left out. Considerate to themselves, I suppose but I would rather they be considerate to us and leave the rest of us in earshot out of it. I was trying to eat, after all!

And, it ruined the date-detailing. Not to steal from Sex and the City, but I do think that living in a big city does rob dating people of romance and what is considered basic courting manners in other places. Last week, Missy and I were both extremely impressed by the idea that she was going to have a "car date," that is, he was going to come pick her up. And, for an actual dinner at a restaurant. Usually, a date in a city is meeting for drinks. Not only did this guy drive over to pick her up, he double parked and actually came up to her door to get her. Setting the bar high right there.

And, yet, while listening to this impressive date story, I kept hearing interjections related to threesome logistics or seeing the threesome making out. And, now, the lyrics to Britney Spears' song, "3," are stuck in my head. "1,2,3, not only you and me. . ."


In case you're curious, it seems that the threesome didn't happen, instead they all agreed to meet for breakfast instead. I guess it is a Monday night, after all.

Bart.

Bart was my family's dog since I was a freshman in high school. He was an adorable little puppy -- almost entirely black with white paws. We debated calling him something to reflect his coloring (Spats?) but realized that we like people-dog names (Bart, Buffy, Beau, Sunday and Shelby are included in my family's dog ownership . . . I guess all of our names are B.S.). When he was a little adorable puppy, too young to be left long, my mom would tuck him in a picnic basket and bring him to whatever freshman game I had to cheer that day. It wasn't long before we robbed that adorable little puppy of any dignity and put a purple scrunchy (yes, scrunchy, it was 1993) on him and declared him our mascot, the puppy-Panther.

He grew into a neurotic but loving dog. He may have slept on my brother's bed when my parents weren't paying attention but he was always my mom's dog. As he became a very senior dog, it was clear that he wasn't escaping the maladies of old dog-age. He had trouble getting up some times, or his back legs would just slip out from under him. He couldn't see very well any more and he was partially deaf. But he still knew how to cuddle up under feet and sat vigil if my mom was sick.

The old-man Bart had to be put to sleep on Friday. After a good morning, eating most of his breakfast and stealing Shelby's ball, he had a stroke. While he had trouble standing earlier, he still had his dignity and would growl when someone would lift him to his feet. This time, he didn't growl. It was time. My mom called me on Friday night to tell me. My poor mother has had to put two dogs to sleep alone now. Mom and I cried on the phone for awhile but you have to know that he was a good dog, with a good life, who is hopefully chewing on his Frisbee up in dog heaven.

Fashion Forecast.

I should have known what the weather would be in Chicago today without even checking. For the past six months, every time there has been an event that required (1) glamming up and (2) some Schwartz in my life, it has poured. Chicago Singles at the Museum of Contemporary Art: raining cats and dogs. Glamorama: Steady downpour, decreasing as the night went on. Gala: Took 20 long, hair-deflating minutes to get a cab. Which brings me to tonight: Macy's presents Chicago's Fashion Focus, which was a VIP cocktail reception at the tent in Millennium Park, followed by a fashion show, and concluding with an after-party at the Shrine. The forecast? Sprinkles in the morning, growing heavier as the day went on. My boy, Tom Skilling, was not wrong. By the time I drove home tonight, there was enough water on the streets that I think there was the potential for hydroplaning, depending on the car.

However, neither rain nor flood will stop fashion. The show was super. My friend, Andrea, opened the show, explaining that it consisted of both designers that Macy's currently carried and those fledgling designers who were in the Fashion Incubator, a Macy's-sponsored and Chicago-supported project to encourage design in Chicago. The show featured 106 looks. I had never been to fashion show before but I LOVED it. While some of the models had hip bones so sharp I was afraid for them (and those around them who might accidentally get sliced if the girl should stumble into them), there was actually a wide variety of model size, including one plus-sized model who owned the runway and crowd like no one else. She arched her eyebrow and that crowd went wild. Incredible. Anyway, I thought it was great and saw some clothes that I would very much like to own.

From there, we went to the Shrine, a club, and site of the afterparty. Due to the rain, I was near my physical limit anyway. A friend of mine works at the Shrine and I was hoping that knowing him would guarantee my tired knees and feets a seat. Thankfully, not much standing and lots of sitting and chatting took place. It was nights like tonight that I most hate my arthritis -- the music was good and I like to dance but it was not an option. Missy and I decided to call it a night around 10:30. But, the Shrine is located in a cab dead zone so we gave up and ran across the street to Cuatro, a restaurant, that was still serving and had a snack while we called a cab.

Overall, it was a very fun night and so different from my professional world. Unfortunately, my body was a casualty of the rain. Sadly though, the greatest casualty from tonight was Missy's camera. Its tiny and cute and now apparently lost. I have an APB out on it -- calls in to Cuatro and the Shrine - but so far nothing. Photographic proof of the good times tonight (and others) may be lost, but at least we still have the memories. In my case, that might not last very long but for others, I'm sure it will.

NYC You and Raise

I'm in NYC again for work. This time, though, I finally was able to
meet up with a friend for dinner. My friend from UVA is here. When we
were in college, we spent many hours throwing each other around. We
met in karate class, would spar with each other, then we'd race around
the city getting slurpees or going to the driving range. He is a
really smart, funny, generous guy who happens to be a trader and
living in NY these days.

He is also a relationship guy. Essentially the entire time I've known
him -- not quite 10 years -- he has had a serious girlfriend.
Unfortunately, he recently broke up with his girlfriend because they
realized it just wasn't going to work. And, those breakups are the
hardest. Its much easier (long term) to have a breakup where someone
does something awful and then you hate each other. Just not being
quite right sucks because you still like each other. Sucks even more
when you are still living together because NY apartments can take
awhile to find.

So he picked me up in his "city car" and off we went to dinner at
Colicchio's craftbar. (Note: the "city car" is a porsche, the "country
car" is a Ferrari that apparently bottoms out just trying to get out
of the city. Traders.) Whenever I see him, its just like UVA level of
friendship even though we are really bad at staying in touch and only
see each other infrequently. For example, he and his girlfriend stayed
with me in Chicago for about a month some years ago while he worked
out a job situation. The next time he was in town -- a year and a half
or so later -- he showed up with a different serious girlfriend. Bad
friending by me and him but whatever. We had a good discussion,
including our current problems. He saw my job problems, and raised me
relationship problems. And, I fold -- especially as he, being a
self-made, self-directed guy offered me an idea of how to go out on my
own and side-step firm life. Unlike his trader-self, I'm risk-adverse
but its something I will at least consider.

Anyway, we had a great time and it was so good to see him. Plus, it
made me appreciate even more just how hard it is to be single,
especially if you're not as lucky as I think I am to have some really
good and reliable friends. Got to witness the difficulty of his
position when his ex-girlfriend joined us later for dessert and drink
after what she described as discouraging apartment-hunting.

Sloth - 1, LP - 0

It is 9:40 p.m. on Sunday and I'm already in bed. Quite possibly the earliest I've been to bed in ten or more years. I can't decide if I'm bored or tired, but I actually think it might be that latter. Its inexplicable that I could be tired after a weekend that was 97% laying around. I did work -- although from a prone position on my couch -- and my laundry is done and house de-cluttered and relatively clean, but that's all I can say I accomplished. I'll be optimistic and call it re-charging after a long week and preparing for an even busier week ahead. Sure, that's it. It can't be that I just succumbed to my inherent laziness and comfort of my couch.

Work Hard, Play Hard.

I had lunch with my buddy Ray yesterday. When I told him of my various events this week (Monday's reception with Virginia Madsen, Wednesday's StyleChicago event at Pops for Champagne with the 35 pound goodie bag, and that evening's wine-tasting for charity), his response was to ask me if I remembered a couple years ago when all I used to do after work was workout. Its true. My week nights used to consist only of working out and occasionally re-hydrate at a nearby bar with Missy. (As an aside, as I've switched gyms due to closings, I've also switched bars. My gym has classed up over the years and so has my bar, with a giant leap for liver-kind in the last year. My gyms, in order: Lakeshore on Wabash, Lakeshore on Ontario, and Trump. My bars, in order: Rossi's, Timmy O'Toole's, and Theory. And, I've liked each of my gym and bars, in their own unique way.) But, now that I workout at Trump, for the first time in my life, I am now a painfully-early morning worker-outer.

I am also a work-hard, play-hard kind of girl. That was the unofficial motto of my undergrad and it continued at law school. Last night was a wine-tasting benefiting BUILD, Inc., a charity focused on involving urban youth in positive things. The wine-tasting was up in Lincoln Park, on a rather desolate stretch of Elston, at the Wine Discount Center. Prior to heading over, I drove Missy over to Wicker Park to pick something up. Traffic was way better than we thought and we arrived at the wine-tasting 20 minutes early. Given the desolate area, we decided it was best to trade our prime parking space in favor of a bar to occupy us. Neither of us knew the area well so we soon ended up at Lalo's on Lincoln. The place was deserted due to some rather icky weather outdoors. We enjoyed our first-ever strawberry vodka soda (strangely like a smoothie but without the calcium) and chatted with the bartender, a super-nice and super-bored guy who offered us a shot to try to get us to stay. But, we had our commitment so back to the Wine Discount Center we went.
It was a nice event at an odd location. There were six tables of six bottles each for tasting. The pours were rather stingy -- they were taking "tasting" seriously -- and there were quite a few people who were more interesting in education than drinking. (Obviously, not me. I wanted them to stop learning about the wine to make room at the table for me.) Their education left me thirsty. We stayed maybe 45 minutes and then headed on.

I suppose this is where the work-hard, play-hard part of me comes into action. I had left work early -- 6:30 -- for this event and I just wasn't ready to call it a night at 8:15. If I'm not working, I best be playing. So, we decided that dinner was in order. Because I was driving Missy home anyway, we figured we might as well eat in the West Loop. We tried Sushi Wabi (packed), WestEnd (busy and no parking), and were getting frustrated when Missy had a brilliant idea: Province! Its one of my favorite restaurants but for some reason, I never think of it as a random dinner place. Its a reservation-restaurant in my head. But, we were able to get in with minimal wait.

Things to love about Province on Thursday:

1.) The food is always so incredibly delicious and satisfying.

2.) Our waiter was a character.

3.) Best of all, the couple behind us was ridiculous. A clearly gay guy who strongly believed himself to be straight on what we think was a date with a girl who could not possibly have been less interested, given that she didn't smile, laugh, or even say a word (other than to order) for 35 minutes. The man more than filled the void. For one thing, he really thought he was Very Important. And, he was so quotable. My favorite quote from him was "Every single woman that I've been engaged to, I've loved to death."

4.) Our character-waiter gave us a free dessert because we had trouble making a decision and we opted against his favorite in the end.

It was a perfect way to finish what was an already-fun night. Nights like last night make getting up early each morning to workout worthwhile.

Licensed.

Six weeks ago, the City of Chicago took my license for making a right turn on red during a prohibited time. Whoops. But, I admitted my wrongdoing, paid my fee and requested traffic school. And, waited for them to mail me my license back, as promised. And, then I waited some more. It took over three weeks for the clerk of courts to acknowledge receipt of payment. An automated system directed me to wait until October 13th to call if I had not yet received my court diversion information. October 13th came and went and I still did not have a court-diversion envelope in my grubby mitts. More importantly, I STILL did not have my license back.

So, I called the number. I was informed that the court diversion envelope would arrive four to six weeks after the clerk of courts received payment. However, I was also told that I should have received my license back weeks ago. Four phone calls to various divisions within the clerk's office, I was left with the inescapable conclusion that they lost my license. (I was also left with the need to write a rather snippy letter to the clerk's office complaining of their procedures and attention to detail. They essentially revoked my license and imposed an additional fee, in direct contradiction to what is allowed by statute which provides for no discretion for traffic violation sentences. That's a no-no.) They purportedly mailed it on September 26th and place the blame squarely on the post office. The post office in Chicago is an easy scapegoat, given its multiple winnings of the title of worst post office in the country. But, they did not mail it in any trackable form. Given that, my phone calls to the post office were met with a mix of condescension and incredibility. Despite six calls and multiple message (that were not timely returned), I was left with only one option to get my license back: get a new one.

I walked over to the Secretary of State's office at 2:00 pm on Wednesday, expecting the worst and armed with various pieces of identification and proof from the clerk's office that they lost my license. All entirely unnecessary. It cost me $5, 15 minutes, and a social security card to get a replacement. It was so easy it actually made me uncomfortable. I just hope nothing bad -- e.g. identity theft -- comes of my lost license as there is nothing more I can do at this point. Perhaps my license will be someone's fake ID. Although I pity the child who to tries to pass themselves off as a 30 year old. The wrinkles will give them away.

Marathon Day.

Sunday was the Chicago Marathon.

As I like to say, my favorite thing about having arthritis is that it gives me an excuse not to do something I've always hated anyway. I just do not understand running being fun. I think people lie when they talk about a runner's high. And running 26.2 miles? With so many other viable transportation options these days, its inexplicable. I don't drive 26 miles per week, why would you want to run in it one day?

That said, my friend, Liz, was crazy (and dedicated, focused, etc.) enough to run it on Sunday. Missy came up with a plan of being a roving cheering squad. I got up at 7:00 am on a Sunday to go out into the sub-40 degrees to go over to Missy's house. From there, I borrowed her cruiser while she rode her tri-bike. It was my first time riding a bike for more than 30 seconds in probably 20 years. Thankfully, the old saying is true -- you just don't forget. Although, riding as an adult in a large city is significantly scarier than riding my bike in the driveway as a kid. And, I say this having lost my two front teeth at the age of 6 by going over the handlebars. As Missy said, the righteous anger and survival instincts of being on a bike when cars ignore you is quick to come.

We biked over to my neighborhood -- Old Town -- and settled in at O'Brien's, a restaurant on Wells St that was mile 10.2 of the course. Laura tried to meet us but got barricaded out by road closures between her place east of us as the marathon course crossed twice in between. We had a perfect vantage point though. Delicious omelets, a couple mimosas and coffee, and just in time to see the crazy-fast Kenyans run by. We also got to see the wheelchair competitors. All just incredible displays. At about 9:45, we first saw Liz running and looking good.

From there, we biked over to the West Loop, to cheer her on again at mile 13. We had to get creative to cheer her on at mile 17 -- we took Lower Wacker to avoid the marathon course. I always say that if you drive Lower Wacker, you really live in Chicago. Its a scary -- but fun -- drive. (If you've seen Batman, you've seen Lower Wacker -- the armored car race with the Joker? That's Lower Wacker.) Well, its A LOT scarier on a bike. We did it for as short as possible but it worked -- we're alive to tell the tale and we got across the course.

After that, we weren't sure where to head other than south. Neither of us had a map with us, assuming we could just pull it up on our blackberries but the website seemed to be having difficulties. We headed toward the south loop and stopped for some coffee at a grocery store. We ran into some people with a map and planned our next stop -- Mile 25 on the south side (22nd and Michigan).
We saw some incredible displays during the day. In addition to the pro-runners and wheelchair athletes, the guy who stood out the most for me was a man missing a leg but did the entire 26 miles on crutches. He was moving too. We saw him all four times and by mile 25, he was so excited to be almost there he raised his crutches in accomplishment and just hopped for awhile. We were cheering everyone on. In fact, we sort of lost our voices in the process but we felt like we had to make for the people who were just standing there, not clapping or cheering even when their person came by, just taking up space. (Side note: anyone running a marathon would be well-served to print their names on their shirts in large and legible font -- it makes cheering so much easier and the runners really seemed to appreciate it as they actually said thanks.)

After mile 25, we headed back to Missy's to drop off the bikes and get some tea to warm up. Tea and a Top Model marathon devolved into sushi, lots of prosecco and Knocked Up. Really, a fun day but exhausting. And, we didn't even run the marathon!

Free.99

When I left work on Friday, I officially had no plans for the weekend. In fact, I was tentatively planning to do nothing. Don't judge me. I think laying around time is very important. Blame it on the RA, blame it on inherent laziness (no, Jamie Foxx, don't blame it on the Goose), but I like having time to just hang out in my apartment, take a nap, catch up on my DVR, perhaps even tidy the place up. I did just that on Friday evening -- catching up on the DVR, at least.

On Saturday, I met my friend, Laura, at the farmers' market (one of the last outdoors ones of the season). We got there with 3 hours to spare before it closed so we decided that it made more sense to have a mimosa and some breakfast and THEN shop the market. Five jumbo mimosas and a $5 breakfast later, we missed most of the good stuff at the market, but very much enjoyed ourselves and our conversation at the bar. From there, we decided that we should stroll down to Macy's to see an event with Clinton Kelly, of What Not to Wear fame, that Andrea, my friend and Laura's sister, was overseeing. On our walk, we also did Laura's tour of free stuff on Michigan Ave. A stop at Williams Sonoma for some snickerdoodle bread samples. On to the Ghirardelli store for a sample piece of chocolate. She noted that if I signed up for texts from Foodlife (a fantastic food court in the Water Tower building), I would be in free food for weeks, cookies, slices of pizza, etc.

We finally made it to Macy's just in time to see the tail end of Clinton Kelly's presentation. He seems like a really great guy and did a wonderful job making women over. Just for walking in, we were given a key that could possibly open a box of Lancome products from which we could choose any product we'd like. Laura and I received the exact same key so we just kind of assumed we weren't getting any free stuff. I should have known better given the overall cost theme -- Free.99 -- of our afternoon. We both walked away some wonderful Lancome moisturizer.

From there, we did a little browsing, looking for new bedding. Missy met us after a trying afternoon and we decided a drink was required. Macy's Walnut Room now has a wine bar. So, we sat ourselves down, enjoyed some sparkling wine "tours" and a cheese plate while we vented. We were good enough customers, apparently, that we received a free cheese plate on our next visit. Loves me some free. From there, we made a quick trip over to another store so that Missy could get her Halloween costume.

Some nine hours after leaving for the farmers' market, I returned home. It was a really unexpectedly wonderful day. But, a dirty one -- I wasn't planning on being gone so long so I hadn't showered before leaving. And, thankfully, Clinton Kelly did not catch sight of me because I'm pretty sure he would have had some tweaks to my ensemble (again, farmers' market-intended, not shopping and sipping).

Liver Functional.

Ever have one of those days where you just want to get drunk? Bad day at work? Feeling blue? Frustrated? Whatever the reason?

When I was younger, I didn't understand the lyrics from the Barenaked Ladies song "Alcohol." I liked it -- catchy beat and all -- but I did not get it. "Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself." But now, I see the wisdom in the words. Well, probably not actually wisdom, but I definitely relate to the lyrics:

"I thought that alcohol was just for those with
Nothing else to do
I thought that drinking just to get drunk
Was a waste of precious booze
But now I know that there's a time
And there's a place where I can choose
To walk the fine line between
Self-control and self-abuse . . ."

Due to my crappy memory, I have trouble deciding if my strong liver is due to pain or stress or something else. Alcohol is a great pain killer. For me, in the most significant part (90% or more), physical pain. I drink more on Fridays, aka shot days, than any other day. My shot of medication runs its course by then so by Friday, I'm usually in the most pain of the week. But, lest we forget, alcohol is a great mental pain killer. Or, at least, duller. As I've said, I think my life is generally pretty great. Definitely room for improvement in certain areas but overall, I enjoy myself. That said, there are days, like today, where I just want a nice buzz to take off the edge. Today, about 6:45 pm, I was unnecessarily thrown under the bus by a colleague and vague friend because he didn't want to accept any responsibility for something that was partially, if not primarily per protocol, his responsibility. I was already thirsty, but after that I was parched.

Being a mostly responsible person, I headed home to the safety of my apartment to get a nice buzz to forget the frustration. Unfortunately, my liver is in better shape than anticipated. On the plus side, at least one part of me is in peak condition apparently . . .

Pump (it up) kin.

Pumpkin Workout. For some reason, when I read the description in my gym's monthly newsletter, as the monthly featured class, I thought pumpkin carving, pumpkin pie, fun and yum. Man, was I wrong.

As it turns out, pumpkins can be really heavy, especially when you use them in place of a kettle bell for swings, presses and the like. Now, I suppose my muscles could be yelling at me because I did two circuit training classes in one day but really, I think they are mad at the pumpkins. Those bitches get heavy. Quickly. And, can be hazardous. Missy -- while super athletic and talented, tends to be an accident magnet -- almost dropped the largest (20 lbs?) pumpkin on her face when her grip slipped. Thankfully, it landed on her head and no serious damage was done to girl or gourd. Despite the potential for mishap and pain, it was a really good workout. I admit that I am just a little scared of the potential of a Butterball workout in November for so many reasons.

That said, pumpkin workout on a Thursday was nice. While I was tired from a long week, I felt it to be a fun and good workout with the pumpkins mixing it up a bit. And, of course, I enjoyed my post-workout hydration (bubbly splits) and nutrition (yummy salad) with Missy at Theory. It was only too bad that Cathy, Laura and Andrea couldn't join us.

Moral: pumpkins are wonderful in their pie form, woeful as a weight.

Function Over Fashion.

Today was one of those days that beginning at about 2:00 in the afternoon, all I wanted to do was go home and get in my sweats. I thought about it all afternoon. I left before I was actually finished because I just couldn't take being there and not home and comfortable any longer.

Even in college, I knew that sartorially speaking, the law was not suited to my personal sense of comfort. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good suit as far as ease of dressing and appearing put together and possibly even chic -- depending on just how good of a suit it is. When I can't think of anything else to wear, I always default to suit because I know it matches. But, I hate wearing suit jackets. I don't particularly find business wear or even business casual comfortable. I always wanted to switch majors with my nursing school friends just for the scrubs. Nothing else about their major appealed to me -- definitely not the sick people -- but man, do I love scrubs. And yet, you will only catch me in sweats in public at the Gym. I don't even wear sweats to work on the weekends.

Beginning in college, and possibly earlier due to my fading memory, the minute I get home, however, I always immediately change into some version of sweats. You will never find me just sitting around in my work clothes, even if my work clothes happen to be jeans. Visit me at home unexpectedly and you're getting an entirely different wardrobe than what I present to the public. In fact, this is so ingrained in me that when I travel for work, I always pack a set of laying around the hotel room clothes. They are as essential as my suit.

Moral of my story: I'm not sure I could have been happier anywhere else in Chicago tonight than on my couch in my sweats, despite the fact that I still had to do some work.

The Dread.

Every Sunday, at some point in the afternoon, the dread sets in. I know I'm not alone in having it. That "I don't wanna" go back to my office, deal with the people, get dressed in professional clothes. Hell, Office Space made having a case of the Mondays famous. I really think that my job would be better if I could work from my couch in my sweats all the time. Of course, I wouldn't get a lot done because I'd be constantly napping but trade-offs.

I try to combat the dread in various ways. Lately, Missy and I have made something of a habit of Sunday Night Football, sushi and wine as a way to finish the weekend and ease into Monday. Not every Sunday but a few times. Unconventional but delicious. Another avenue of avoiding the dread I've tried is attacking Monday by getting up and going to spin class. Last week, I was thwarted by no spin instructor. But today, Sonja was back and spin was a hard, sweaty workout. I really do love Sonja's spin classes. You can make the workout as hard as you want and the woman always has good music to go with it. The only problem is when she gets on an electronic music kick. Those are the songs that never end, and only go on and on, my friend, some people started playing it, not knowing what they were and now they keep on playing them forever just because those are the songs that never end . . .

And, it worked. The day went by fairly quickly. The only thing I'm combating now is a case of the sniffles.

Finery.

This weekend I got dressed up to attend the Arthritis Foundation's annual gala. I usually go to one or two black tie events per year. I usually find black tie events to be just kind of "eh" as far as ways to spend an evening. But, I was really looking forward to attending this event for two reasons.

First, I love my dress. I've worn it a few times already but I love that it's both comfortable and pretty. Its a rare find in shades of blue. For fun, I got my nails did (yes, did) in a navy blue. Perhaps not the most professional color but I've always had a love of funky nail colors, going back to high school where I'd paint my nails a different color every day -- yellow, bright blue, green, hot pink, you name it, I'd wear it, except for black.

Second, this time as my "date." I was bringing my friend, Laura. She is a natural at these events. Actually, its basically her job. I love watching her work. Its incredible. I've seen her speak and now I've seen her in action. She has a book coming out in February on the networking power of social events. I need to pre-order it because she is a master. And, best of all, she actually enjoys these events.

Coincidentally, her sister and my friend, Andrea, was invited to a gala for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra on Saturday as well. Her "date" was our friend Heather. The Trump girls were dressing up on Saturday. We normally see each other in sweats and sweating but we do clean up nicely. Post-Galas, we planned to meet for some bubbly, as is only fitting when Heather and I are involved.

The gala was really fun. The food wasn't bad. Laura made friends with our server who rewarded her friendship with extra polenta, a special fruit and cookies plate that no one else was offered. We danced to a pretty good band. It was a good time. And so was meeting up with our girls later. As one of my male friends pointed out, we are pretty lucky that we can bring a friend to a black tie event and not have anyone give it a second thought. Its not quite as easy for guys. Chalk one up for the ladies!