Heed the Horoscope.

One of my friends began reading us our horoscopes every morning as we'd get ready at the gym. Generally, I think horoscopes are so generic and broad that they are hard to be wrong. But, I also think they are fun. So, I spread the fun by sending my brother and a couple friends their horoscopes when they are particularly noteworthy.

This week, it seems that the horoscopes have been both more specific and more accurae. One day, it told me that I was worried about my health. Coincidentally, it was a day where my knees were acting out like children throwing a temper tantrum. That same day, it told my friend that he needed to be careful as he might break something and get into a fight with someone. He had already shattered a glass that morning. He decided to bite his tongue for the rest of the day when people bothered him.

Today, I sent my brother his horoscope. It read:

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Be on guard today. Some aspect of your private life is going to suddenly be very public, especially in the eyes of bosses, parents, teachers and VIPs. (Gulp.) Incidentally, this includes the police. It will be swift and unexpected. (Check your zipper.)

Rather a specific order to conclude. My brother followed directions and incredibly -- his zipper was open! I've decided its only prudent to heed the horoscopes from now on.

Two Dollar Daydreams.

"Gotta get in it to win it."

"You can't win if you don't play."

The lottery has brainwashed me. Twice per week I buy lottery tickets for the MegaMillions and Powerball. Every once in awhile, I will win a few dollars. Just enough to keep the hope alive. But, more importanty, my two dollars provides me the daydreams of being a megamillionaire or powerballer. They are probably the best two dollars I spend. A lot of people I know take playing the lottery as a sign of job disatisfaction. I don't think they are wrong. I jokingly call it my retirement plan. In actuality, it is my only EARLY retirement plan as I don't see myself coming up with any other way that will allow me to dial back the work and still lead a lifestyle I enjoy.

My daydreams aren't very developed -- I guess reflecting my awareness of the actual odds of them becoming a reality -- but they are delightful. They always start with meeting with a lawyer to figure out tax implications and whatnot. (Even my daydreams are practical.) Then, I pay off my mortgage and about five others for my family and friends. After that, I travel a lot, while coming up with a job that leaves me lots of flexibility and a good feeling. It depends what season we are in where I go first -- a tropical island, Spain -- but I always go fancy.

A girl can dream.

Girls and the Goat.

Back in June, most of the Trump girls attended the PAVE gala. (PAVE stands for Promoting Awareness Victim Empowerment and works with victims of sexual assault.) One of the silent auction items was a gift certificate for dinner for eight at Girl and the Goat. At that point, the restaurant hadn't opened yet but there was still a lot of buzz, given the Top Chef Stephanie Izard getting a lot of press. We got into a bidding war -- including a "take that" on the bid list -- with what turned out to be an amazon of a woman. Ultimately, Melissa won the gift certificate. BUT someone else picked it up! After a couple of months, the issue was resolved and she was the proud owner of dinner for eight. The only problem was trying to find a day that eight people's schedules coincided along with the restaurant -- which, now open, books up weeks in advance -- having the availability to accomodate such a group. That day turned out to be last night.

And what a night. Our table was rustic looking with super comfortable chairs right in front of the kitchen. It smelled incredible. Chef was working right in front of us.

Because we had the gift certificate, the restaurant chose our meal for us. Which was awesome as we were all sort of overwhelmed by the idea of coming up with a food plan for eight people (as its small plates, with two or three per person recommended). Plus, we had more important things to do, like catching up with everyone as the food deluge began. We tried all of their special breads, oysters, green beans, cauliflower, chickpea fritters (yum!), mussels, squash ravoli (my fav), barramundi, lamb shank, and goat. Yes, goat. It tastes like mutton vaguely. That was probably the only one I wouldn't order again -- much too strong for me.

I think all of us were slightly incredulous that the restaurant could live up to huge amount of hype but it absolutely did.



(Chef Izard in the center, the Girls, and well, I guess the Goat, being the random guy photobombing us.)

What a Difference (Eight) Days Makes

I arrived in Colorado last Sunday. It was a "family dinner" night, meaning that my brother and his partner and my cousin and her boyfriend were coming to dinner. They do this every two weeks, coinciding with my dad's weekends off. Add me, my mom's cousin, and my brother's friend and that meant dinner for nine. Usually my mom does this with very little assistance from anyone. But last week, she was still essentially sn invalid. Her energy was low, pain level high and she was in a neck brace and arm cast.

Tonight became a family dinner night as it was my last night here. This time, my mom was itching to cook. She probably did about a quarter of it, against orders. She now has the cast off and her stitches removed. She goes for at least two walks each day, totaling about a mile and does a light workout with weights. In contrast, on Tuesday, on her first walk, she barely made it four houses. Nonetheless, she is nervous to be on her own and wishes I could stay.

So do I, in a lot of ways. She is so much better now that it would be more of a fun visit. However, I think I would get too comfortable. I joked a year ago that my furniture would fit nicely in my parents' newly remodeled basement. Now, given remote working, I could stay quite comfortably for awhile, just hanging out. Actually being a part of family dinner rather than feeling not quite part of it.

I would stay if my parents need me but it's time to get back to my Chicago life. Living in my parents' basement while comfortable (and trendy thanks to the economy), can't be my long term plan. Not unless I stocked up on vitamin D and fully embraced becoming an old cat lady. (Cats come with the basement as a bonus.)

Role Changes.

My poor mom has been essentially incapacitated by pain for the 18 months. She FINALLY got a diagnosis -- after months of tests with normal results, knowing things were definitely not normal -- which required surgery. Well, given that she is the worst surgery recoverer EVER, it actually required two surgeries: one to fix the pain, and one to fix the first surgery's complications.

The second surgery was unexpected and delayed her recovery unexpectedly. As a result, I am out in Colorado for the longest span that I've been since I was in college. My job has to be a mix of trainer, court jester, and care taker. The former has come naturally. My parents have called me Ilsa for years, making fun of my attempts to force them into exercise. However, in past years, my mom has come around on exercise and actually enjoys the challenge getting back in shape now through walks and light exercise while she recovers.

The latter two roles have been less natural. My mom is far enough in her recovery that she can do stuff again. But, she has a neck brace and a wrist brace, or just one functioning limb from the waist up. So, its been a touch of a role reversal and regression for us. I learned how to zip my mom's jacket (proof positive I don't have kids -- my mom tells me that I will spend my child's first seven years zipping jackets) and tie her shoes.

To play court jester, I have reached deep. I started simple: reading Trivial Pursuit questions in the doctor's waiting room. I seriously stepped it up with my sock puppet show about hijinks between the sad hospital sock and the fun polka dot sock. Today, while waiting in my family doctor's waiting room, I read my mom The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

I think that book is fitting. My mom's cocoon is her braces. Once the braces are off, she will emerge a beautiful butterfly with her life back, footloose and pain-free.

Rules of Thumb.

A work in progress:

1. If he can fit in my pants, he is not getting in them. My ego simply is not as healthy as my appetite when it comes to this.

2. Never trust a man in a cape. Possible superhero exceptions include Batman and SuperMan. I'm not sure about the latter though as the "super" reflects the inflated ego endemic to the cape-wearer.

3. Footwear often reflects personality. I often have to sacrifice my prettier heels for flats but I still try to keep them fun. Corallary: no good can come from a man in tassels. Similarily, no one, but especially not a man, should wear sneakers with a suit. Ever.

4. Working in a committee is the surest way to accomplish the least in the most amount of time.

5. Bubbles always make it better. Be it a bad day or a good day, there is always room for bubbly improvement.

To be continued. . .

Do Svidanyia!

Last night was a farewell party for Liz. We were summer associates together and have been friends since. She decided that she is done with the law and going back to her non-profit roots. To do so, she is spending a year doing a fellowship with JDC in Moscow.

Liz is a girl with a diverse set of friends who generally do not overlap. As a farewell, a few representatives from each of the groups of friends got together and planned a farewell party with a Russian theme. People were given a "Hello, my name is" tag with their Russian name for the evening. There was a vodka luge with a hammer and sickle carved in. Heavy-handed makeup and fur hats were encouraged.

Overall, I'd say it was a success. A lot of the ladies in attendance took to the theme dress. I haven't seen so much red lipstick and heavy eye makeup in one place before. (More than one of us felt like a hooker on our way to the party because the makeup was so out of character for our normal, non-theme dress.) The men were less thematic but to be fair to them, I didn't give them much direction when came to how to dress like a Russian. Personally, my outfit ended up taking a folk turn, looking vaguely Russian peasant. If only I could do the Russian dance but my knees preclude that kind of enthusiasm.

Originally, Liz was going to be leaving (on a jet plane) for Moscow today. Luckily, her departure date got kicked until October 12. It was fortuitous in that now she doesn't have to fly with a headache, has more time to try to rent her place, AND didn't have to see A LOT of eye makeup get destroyed by farewell tears.

Do svidanyia, Liz. I hope you have a fantastic year in Moscow!

Detours on the Road to Wellness.

I've lived away from my family since I was 18 (returning most summers while I was still in school). Its not because I don't like them. I like my family a lot and try to stay up to date on matters on the Western front. So much so that I think I annoy them by calling frequently.

Over the past two years, my mom has been severe and inexplicable pain. Of course, it would have been explicable had a neurosurgeon bothered to read the MRI she ordered months ago. As it turns out, due to an accident, her spine was being compressed which resulted in a trickle down of awfulness. Thankfully, another neurosurgeon did finally read the MRI and spotted the problem immediately and scheduled her for surgery.

She had the surgery almost two weeks ago. While the fix-the-spine part was successful, my mom is the worst surgery recoverer ever. There were complications that included what appeared to be a heart attack (turns out the hospital overdosed her). But, she made it home safe and sound and things seemed to be getting better. Not content with just one deivation off the road to wellness, she was back in the hospital for a surgery on her wrist, which was swollen badly. It is to be determined what actually caused that.

Being here -- and not there -- has meant that I've been texting and calling Colorado all the time. Its been a weird two weeks, living my life, going to work, working out, and attending events all the while wondering what's going on in Colorado, when the next shoe will drop. All I can say is that I hope that my mom is now on the autobahn to health with no more exits.