Planning.

I've been to a few galas in my time. Not a lot -- work prom, the Arthritis Foundation's event, and a few others -- but a few. For the past few years, faux-pas-be-damned, I've worn the same dress to all of them. I strongly believe that if you're going to spend any significant amount of money on anything but particularly clothes, you need to use it and get your money's worth. I almost always mentally amortize a significant purchase before committing to it. At this point, my dress is a sub-$100 dress, which I would definitely pay without even a second thought for it.

But I digress.

My point of the preceding paragraphs is that I've been to enough of these events that I'm a pretty good planning committee member. This year, after getting a touch burned out with my usual philanthropic endeavor, I agreed to help Heather plan the Cystic Fibrosis Breath of Life Gala.

I attended my first planning meeting tonight. And, sadly, I could not contain myself. When they suggested a theme, e.g. Roaring 20's costume party, I reflexively, and loudly, said no. You just can't get people to pay a $300 ticket for a theme party. When they suggested a cash bar after a certain hour, my immediate response was "absolutely not." Once those ideas were out of the way, we came up with a lot of great ideas for fundraising and ways to make the gala an actually fun event. Even without free drinks.

Unrelated: I'm proud of myself and relieved -- I just KNEW I had something other than my house to talk about!

Packing.

I think I've been packing for at least two months now. I enjoyed the initial purge but now that I'm packing, I'm tempted to just pitch it all and have some one deliver all new stuff. Of course, since all my money is earmarked for my house now, that's just wishful thinking.

So, I continue to pack. And, fun -- I get to unpack on Friday!

Good as Gold.

My new neighborhood is the Gold Coast. I am entirely biased but I think my new street is likely the prettiest in the whole city. My street is nicely treed, filled with huge historic mansions, flowers everywhere, not three blocks from the lake. It seems like a very safe and idyllic place in which I look forward to living.

For the first time, I officially joined a neighborhood association. Last night was the Gold Coast Neighbors Association's annual Spring Fling ("As Good as Gold" was the theme) held at the Chicago Racquet Club. I attended along with my friends and neighbors, Melissa, Laura and Andrea. The venue was beautiful, the food tasty, the drinks flowing, and the crowd . . . interesting. We brought the median age, and no doubt income, down significantly. For the most part, everyone we met was extremely nice and outgoing. My favorite part was the live auction, although I'm quite disappointed that I did not win the mega-raffle's scooter.

While the neighborhood is very safe, the buildings like to remind their residents that there can be crime in the Gold Coast and to stay alert. The Gold Coast Neighbors Association takes its crime prevention seriously. Melissa had left her credit card on the raffle table when she bought a ticket. Not 45 minutes later, she realized her mistake and went back to get it. They had already called the company to cancel it. It was proactive, efficient, impressive and awful at once. I'm not sure why they didn't try to find her first -- either by making an announcement or at her address, as they definitely know where she lives -- but they surely avoided any potential credit card fraud.

Top Three.

Part of this is my own fault due to personality, but the construction and design process are killing me. I scheduled my move for May 21 after repeated assurance that my place would be done by mid-May. While mid-May translates to May 15 to me, I decided to allow for some slippage in the schedule and added a week. Despite this clear deadline, it seems like EVERYTHING is taking longer and no one is motivated.

Top Three Frustrations:

1. Tile. Unbeknownst to me -- but well-known to the rest of the world, particularly the design world -- tile generally has anywhere between a three and six week wait time between order and delivery. From the outset, re-tiling my bathroom was part of my design plans. Outset = March 24 or not quite eight weeks from my scheduled move. And yet, the designer didn't turn to selecting tile until last weekend. Every sample was at least a four week wait. I thought I was clear that speed was my most important factor in selecting tile at this point because I don't want to live through construction. And yet, as of yesterday when demo began on my bathroom -- all tile now removed and problems uncovered -- I STILL don't have tile chosen and was getting questions as to whether I wanted to order stuff that would take six weeks. Who woulda thunk it, but apparently I'm being too nice about this.



2. Unforeseen problems. First, as demo began on my kitchen on Monday, the contractor realized that part of the wall I planned to remove entirely contained a concrete structural support column. Well, hell. While the revised plan is still an improvement over what was there, its not nearly as good and my planned island might end up looking silly. Hopefully, not but I have some concerns. Second, as demo began on my bathroom, they realized that the valves for both my tub and sink were leaking. Things that were not uncovered during the inspection. Thankfully, plumbing is the responsibility of the condo association. My relatively high monthly assessment is not for naught.



3. General lack of speed. I do not understand why, when I select something, it takes upwards of a week for the items to actually be ordered. Clearly, people who do not have to live without lighting fixtures, or furniture, or countertops are not nearly as motivated as those of us who do. And, my failure of comprehension is furthered by the fact that I -- not to be immodest -- exceed at getting things done. I can conceirge things and orchestrate with the best of them. At this point, I'm pretty sure that my designer and her staff hate me because I am emailing them daily with reminders, prompts and questions.

Despite these frustrations, I already love the work product, even if the process isn't too my liking. And, hopefully, come sometime in June, my home will be beautiful and I will be super happy with my decisions.

Appropriate.

As I mentioned, as of Monday afternoon, I'm a member of the 30-Year Club, as my mom calls it.

On Tuesday, I returned to work to find that one of the women that I work out with probably five times per week had left a closing gift for me at the office. While we aren't friends, if you spend five mornings a week for well over a year getting ready with someone, you end up knowing a lot about them. Or, she was just a lucky guesser. Her gift: a bottle of Veuve. Fitting.

This morning, I received a delivery from my parents. It came in a box labeled live plant. As I have something of a black thumb, I was a little confused. But, once I opened the box, I realized just how appropriate and funny it was. My parents closing gift to me was a Money Tree. They are supposed to be Feng Shui-y and bring good luck. To me, it just represents how I feel about this whole process. It really seems like everyone involved seems to assume that money does grow on trees. If only money really did grow on trees . . .

Home-Owning.

After finding a workaround on the mortgage issue, I was set to close yesterday at 1:00 p.m. I was told that it would take about an hour so I just worked all morning until it was time. Everyone was on time and ready to go, except for one essential person: the closer. She was well over an hour and a half late and upon arrival, did not apologize. Instead, she adopted a surly, and worse, slow attitude. After some serious prompting, and a $300 reduction in my fees for her tardiness, I was finally a homeowner around 6:00 p.m.

Sadly, my excitement for being a homeowner was seriously dampened by two things. First and most importantly, my overwhelming hunger. Once my blood sugar drops, I become a beast and it takes awhile for me to recover, mood-wise. My super nice agent picked up some food for us on our way to my new home. We met up with Melissa who was there unpacking as she moved into her new place that day. We ate the desperately needed food and toasted with some well-planned prosecco. Sadly, that brings me to the second thing. Melissa's places is similar to mine but currently soooooooooooooo beautiful and mine just isn't. I have high hopes but I want my place to be pretty without the wait. Patience is really not one of my virtues.

But, my place is on its way to pretty. I met the contractor who will be removing the ugly popcorn ceiling, painting and putting up crown moulding this morning. Of course, that was not without a hiccup. My keys worked perfectly well last night but this morning, they refused to open the door for me, Melissa, or the building engineer. I called a locksmith but before he got there (well over an hour late, by which time I was at work), my contractor was able to fix it.

Home ownership is fun.

Event-Full.

Much like robins and the bucket-boys, the re-appearance of a wide variety of events are a sure sign of the imminent return of warmth and fun. Thanks to my friends, my social calendar has filled itself in rather impressively in the past couple days.

On Tuesday, I attended a screening of the new Jennifer Lopez movie. If you have ever wondered about the lack of constants in life, you've never seen a Jennifer Lopez movie. They are generally not good and cliche-filled but yet, not an unpleasant way to pass time, particularily when you have friends around who share your view of her films. This one was particularly full of expected moments so I was glad to have attended a cocktail reception in advance.

Last night was the grand opening of a new Mercedez Benz dealership, not far from my house. I was surprised by this one as I was under the impression that the dealership had been open for months. The opening was sponsored by one of the local magazines and included appetizers from good restaurants, drinks, a fashion show and after-party. We got there on the later side to realize that they were herding everyone to the third floor for the fasion show by closing the bars. The only open bar was upstairs and outside, which was unfortunate as it was quite chilly. Worse the one bar only had one bartender which made for a long wait. We did the only thing that made sense -- double fisted our bubbles. The funniest part of the night for me was while waiting for the valet, seeing all these fancy cars arrive -- Mercedez, Range Rover, BMW, Lexus -- and then my super dirty Toyota roll up. it served to motivate me to want to wash it more than replace it.

These events are always interesting and I'm so glad that they have returned. Now, if only the warm weather they harold would hurry up and arrive.

Whew.

After a week of tension regarding the mortgage, I learned late afternoon yesterday that I will close on my first home on Monday at 1:00 p.m. It was such an incredible relief to get that scheduled. I knew I was anxious about it but I didn't realize just how anxious until it was set.

Of course, the hiccups in the process were not quite done. Because my original closing date was today, the seller scheduled the power to be shut off as of today. Now, its much more likely that it merely was going to be transferred out of her name, but I decided to do the walk-through last night. File that under better-safe-than-sorry, especially after Melissa was not able to do a walk-through on her place until five days after closing because the sellers had stopped the power and it took that long for ComEd to turn it back on. Everything seems fine, even if I had no idea how to use the stove or microwave. File that under fancier-than-me.

Now, we are getting closer to the "fun" part of the process. I'm expecting to receive renovation plans for my kitchen today and have already received an estimate to re-do my master bathroom. Once that work is done, it will be the fun of picking paint and furnishings. Bring on the fun already!

Week One.

I just completed week one of re-making my morning workout habit. Overall, it wasn't even that difficult. Of course, it helped that I was in bed before 10 twice this week. I went to spin class, circuit training, cardio'd on my own, and this morning got back in the pool for swim class for the first time in months. I admit I'm a tad sore but its the good-for-you, productive pain.

One down, two to go.

The Place.

As you may recall, I have a Secret Shame. I do love The Place. But, it seems that The Place is only reserved as a comfort for bad things. I have been three times since caving into its siren song: the night before my review with reasonable trepidation; the day after one of my colleagues was killed in an accident; and, Tax Day.

Today, in honor of Tax Day, The Place offered a discount. With a mere 45 minutes for dinner, The Place was perfect. Sadly, I know the menu well enough to not even have to look. In fact, the reason I wasn't carded tonight was because of that knowledge. That has to be a new level of shame, right?

UGH.

Buying a house even worse than I thought. And, I thought I had really low expectations. Everything was proceeding merrily along, having worked hard to compile all of the necessary due diligence, being responsive and keeping everyone happy. My work training paying off, or so I thought.

Yesterday, as I was walking out the door to meet with the interior designer, a mere nine days before my closing, my mortgage company (WF), called to say that they had absolutely everything they needed from me.

Just one teeny, tiny, itsy bitsy problem: they needed the condo board to amend its bylaws.

Uh huh. As if that is something that can be accomplished in a week.

After trying my best to make it happen, and browbeating the broker into asking one more time for an exception, I had to cancel the deal with WF and start anew with another broker. Now, my closing is going to be delayed. All the fees incurred with WF are for naught. And, I suspect I might incur a penalty from the seller for delaying the closing. If so, one sternly worded and threatening letter is going to WF demanding my lost costs for their negligence.

The Purge.

As part of my moving preparations, I have purged my apartment twice in the past three weeks. After the first time, I collected seven bags earmarked for Goodwill and five bags directed toward the trash. I thought that was good. But last weekend, I realized there was still more stuff that does not need to be moved. So, I added another three bags to the Goodwill pile and another five bags to the trash.

While I -- more specifically my knees -- do not enjoy the many, many trips down the stairs, I very much enjoy the purge. I have drawers and shelves that are entirely empty. I don't know why I lived with all of this stuff before. It stayed here for almost six years, doing nothing. As of this morning, that stuff is out in the world, ready for someone to help it fulfill its purpose.

Habitual.

For most of my adult life, I've been a regular gym-goer. For the past year and a half, I turned myself into a morning worker-outer. That was a big change in habit for me as I'm really not a morning person. (Or a night person either. I'm good for about three hours during the day really.) But the morning classes at my gym are worth getting up at 6 to attend. That and it gets me to work earlier and I haven't bought shampoo in, coincidentally, a year and a half as I get ready at the gym 5-6 mornings per week.

But, in the last month, a combination of misbehaving knees and working too late caused me to break that habit. I resolved that this week would mark my re-dedication to morning workouts. My knees objected to that plan on Monday and Tuesday. This morning, when I really had no excuse, I still didn't get up and go because I was more comfortable in bed. It takes three weeks to make or break habit. And, I'm over the tipping point.

Its going to be a painful next three weeks as I re-make my morning workout habit. But, its a habit that's worth the pain. Or, at least, that's what I'm going to have to tell myself. We'll see in three weeks.

Hold 'em.

Saturday was Windy City Nights Casino Night, including a celebrity Texas Hold 'Em tournament. This was an event sponsored by the Junior League in which two of my friends were playing as celebrities. It was also designated by one of my friends as her birthday celebration and invited all of us to play in the tournament.

I don't know much about poker. In fact, I had to google it to learn the order of winning hands and get a general sense of when to automatically fold. (God bless Al Gore and his internet.) Nonetheless, I figured that if I lost everything quickly, no big deal. It was a charity and not real money. So, I was in.

Shortly before the event, I got a call from my mom telling me that my great uncle had died. He had been sick for a couple months but last I heard, was improving. In retrospect, I think that he spent the last 60 years or so being completely independent and the past two months of being totally dependent with people constantly in his space just wore him down. Faced with a future of daily medical assistance, it seems like he was just done because he died shortly after they removed that assistance.

Now, I realize it sounds rather cold to attend an event after hearing this news. But, in my opinion, I think it was the best possible tribute to my uncle that I could do. He lived in Chicago in the 1950s and I don't think I ever had a conversation or communication with him since I moved here that didn't express his love for the city and directing me to enjoy it while I could. Moreover, the man loved to play cards, going up to the casinos several times each year. I didn't win but I also didn't embarrass myself. If only I had finished the night with a big steak, it would have been a perfect night in honor of my uncle.

Under Contract.

Saturday began a whirlwind that will last until mid-May, I think. I looked at about ten places on Saturday afternoon and on the very last one, found my new home. That evening, I wrote my first offer. I didn't want to be insulting and I also didn't want a prolonged negotiation. As it turns out, the seller was on the same page and we both had the same bottom line. (Oddly, the seller is a female attorney who is about to have knee replacement surgery. In about 30 years, if I were to stay there, history could be repeating itself with this place.) Over drinks with my real estate agent, we negotiated a deal. By 11:00 pm, I was under contract.

My new place is in a building that I would consider aesthetically to be the red-headed step-child of one of the prettiest streets in Chicago. The building has an elevator, a feature my knees already appreciate. While I could move into the place without making any changes, I've decided that if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do as much as I can afford to make it perfect before I move in. So, I'll be removing the popcorn ceiling, possibly knocking out a wall to open up the kitchen, and re-tiling the bathroom. The mortgage shopping, inspection, attorney review period, closing and interior design are essentially my idea of hell. But, once done, I have no doubt that I will be thrilled that I did this.

And, as icing on the cake, although slightly embarrassingly but definitely fun-ly, my new place is in the same building as Melissa.

Proud.

I called my mom this afternoon at a little before 5:00 in Colorado. While she was happy to answer the question posed, she didn't feel like chatting. Why? Because she was with two of her friends drinking prosecco before going out to dinner.

Its time like this that make me proud.

Fresh Start.

So far, this year has not been the best ever. Primarily, work has been a delightful combination of busy, stressful and discouraging. With the exception of my five days in Anguilla, I have maybe two good things to say about this year to date. As a result, I'm trying to think of ways to shake it off and get a fresh start.

My major plan begins on Saturday. After years of listening to my parents' nagging me about the amount of money I continue to throw away as a renter, I'm going househunting this weekend. I tend to get overwhelmed pretty quickly when confronted with housing choices. I'm hampered by the fact that I have no ability with spacial relationships. It makes my head hurt just to think about if and how my furniture will fit in a space. I'm a person who goes in a circle folding box flaps because I just don't see the spacial relationships. Its a tad pathetic.

My years of procrastinating this house buying step has a couple benefits. First, if I had bought years ago, I likely wouldn't have known that I have no need to go outside of my zone in daily life. (Bounded by the loop on the south, the lake on the east, North Avenue to the north, and Halsted to the west, my zone has everything I want.) I like the West Loop but its not really a neighborhood. Wicker Park is a neighborhood that I like but I hate the traffic there. I don't like Lakeview at all, with the possible exception of Wrigley Field. Anything north of Lakeview might as well be Canada for me. I like the South side just fine but its houses are generally much more run down than the north side and I'm definitely not a fixer-upper girl, even if I wish I was occasionally. Second, had I bought a few years ago, I would have bought at the height of the seller's market. Now, its still a buyer's market, with even a touch of desperation from sellers after such a long downturn.

I am sincerely hoping to find a place on Saturday that I love so that I can make my fresh start by summer.

Daylight Savings Suckered.

Daylight Savings started last weekend. I wasn't one of those people who showed up somewhere an hour too early. Nope, all of my clocks were changed and I was timely on Sunday. And yet, I still got suckered by Daylight Savings. However, I wasn't the one who suffered.

Yesterday, I had a call with a client in Singapore and co-counsel in San Fran. It was a re-scheduled call from the week prior because the client had forgotten about it. We had to use the ten minute rule last week. The call was at 6:30 pm CT, 4:30 PT, and 8:30 am on March 18 in Singapore. Like the week before, ten minutes elapsed and there was no sound of the client. Co-counsel called her office, sent her an email saying he'd try her cell. He called me, and prior to conferencing her in, reminded me of what happened last weekend. We had totally forgotten that Singapore -- being essentially on the equator -- doesn't use daylight savings. We woke the poor woman up.

Whoops.

Typical.

This weekend has been typical. By that, I mean, I spent Saturday morning at the gym (really, I like my Saturday workouts so much that its almost worth the not-being-super-drunk on Friday to make my 9:00-11:00 am workout on Saturdays), then went to work. Saturday evening I watched Up in the Air, which hit a little too close to home with all the firings. I haven't been fired but still, a little close to home for me to love the movie despite the Clooney smirk.

Today, I indulged my lazy nature, sleeping in and laying around, watching Couples Retreat and reading a book. Had dinner at Eivissa, a tapas bar in Old Town, that I've already decided will be my warm weather weekend regular spot. Their sangria goes down like water. Food delicious. Dessert awesome. Can't wait to go back.

Sadly, I'm ending my weekend reviewing documents for a specific purpose while watching the Cutting Edge 3. "Toe Pick" doesn't fix everything apparently. Can't win them all.

Anguilla.

Anguilla is an island that has informally adopted the motto that "it is good to do nothing and then rest." It was exactly what I needed.

Everyday was fairly similar in weather and activity. It was somewhere between 83 and 89 degrees each day. Every morning, I worked out, went to the beach, ate a low key lunch, and had a couple drinks. Every afternoon, when it got really hot, we went back to the room, to read and nap on our balcony overlooking the crashing waves below. Every evening, dinner was around 7:30 and then we'd head back to resort's bar for some after dinner cocktails. Minor variations would exist in that pattern.

It may sound boring but it was perfect.

As an aside, while I didn't make my mom drink with me, she decided to keep me company. Woman probably had more drinks in five days with me than in the past five years combined. She is starting to see the beauty of bubbly. Rather than me becoming my mom, I'd say she's slowly becoming me. They grow up so fast.

Straw Hat.

Anguilla is billed by some as the culinary capital of the Caribbean. And, the food really was quite good, especially if you like jerk seasoning, conch, red snapper, and barbecue. All of which I happen to enjoy. But, my most favorite thing that I ate was not an entree. Instead, it was the best piece of cheesecake I've ever had. It tasted like spritz cookie dough with the best graham cracker crust with a hint of cinnamon and nut.

This cheesecake can be found at Straw Hat, a restaurant whose terrace is on the beach with the surf crashing not twenty feet away. Mom and I went there for dinner on Tuesday and shared the cheesecake. The next day, the cheesecake kept coming up in conversation -- amongst ourselves, with locals, and resort employees. Returning from after dinner drinks, we decided on a whim to try to get another piece of cheesecake because we couldn't stop thinking about it. But, we got there at 10 and the kitchen had already closed. We were supposed to give up our rental car the next morning but kept it solely for the purpose of cheesecake. However, this time we made a reservation for dessert. And, didn't share.

We ate our last piece of the best cheesecake ever on Straw Hat's 15th anniversary. While I asked for the recipe, they would not disclose it. So, I have made an appeal to Bon Appetite. Fingers crossed that Straw Hat cannot withstand a recipe request from Bon Appetite's RSVP column.

Vacation Blues.

In short: vacation was really wonderful and being back in the office is really much less so.

As I sat in a windowless conference room today, paging through five boxes of paper, with the papercuts to prove it, surrounded by nothing but boxes and no one to talk to, I realized just how much less so. A week ago, I was sitting on the beach, surrounded by surf and sand, enveloped by the warmth of my old friend the sun, with my mom at my side, sharing barbeque and drinks. I could get used to that very easily. As my mom said as we sat in the St. Maarten airport, hearing flights being called for Saba, St. Bart's, and St. Kitt's, it was poor planning to go home after only five days. But, unfortunately, while poor planning, had we stayed as long as my lazy heart desired, I'd be planning to be poor.

Add to that week juxtaposition, today I had to accept a change in position that is rather discouraging. Hopefully, it will turn out to be for the best, but today, I'm blue about the whole work thing.

T Minus 12 Hours.

In 12 hours, a cab will pick us up and take us to the airport. My peds are cured, my sunblock bought, and bag mostly packed. It took longer than I thought to pack for this trip, mostly because while I think all I need are some dresses and a swimsuit, seeing my mom's bag made me think I was woefully underpacked. If things go smoothly -- fingers crossed as we have a tight connection -- this time tomorrow, we will have been in the Carribbean for three hours. People have warned me that there is nothing to do there. Nothing surrounded by warmth, sand and drinks sound perfect.

Can't wait.

Fated Frames.

I've loved having my mom in town this week but it has admittedly been a tad stressful just because I am used to doing things subject only to my own schedule. Today, I had a mental schedule of getting home early, by 6:00, in order to have a quick dinner of delicious mama-made grilled cheese and then head to Southern Italy wine tasting at Perman Wines.

At about 4:55, my mom called, telling me that her glasses had broken while she was leaving over a hot oven. The plastic lens was scooped up quickly enough that no real harm was done. BUT, her glasses were unwearable and without glasses my mama can't see. This was an emergency given that we are set to depart for the island at the pre-crack of dawn on Sunday.

I dropped what I was doing and headed home to pick mom up and take her to a vision place. While not perfect, thankfully, we were able to find a frame that works. And, a frame that was oddly reminiscent of glasses the my mom wore when she was a kid. Its totally retro and quite cute.

It almost appeared fated -- the only frame in the store that would fit her current lens was from Tommy Bahama. Its like Tommy knew that we needed him to get to our vacation.

Restaurant Week.

One of my favorite weeks to live in Chicago is Restaurant Week. Its an amazing deal for so many great restaurants in Chicago. For $22 at lunch, and $32 at dinner, you get a three (or four) course pre fixe meal.

This week is one of the reasons that I have my shame for my love of what I will going forward call The Place, as described in Secret Shame. I must admit that this week's restaurant agenda did include a chain (China Grill) but on a different level than The Place.

When I first learned the dates for the 2010 Restaurant Week, I called my mom and invited her out. She is much more of a foodie than I am and appreciates this week even more than I do. This week, we dined at China Grill (love, love, love their calamari salad), Le Colonial (delightful although dimly lit), and will complete the week at Hot Chocolate. We were lucky enough to be joined by Melissa and Grover for Le Colonial which made an already good dinner great and super-productive from a problem solving perspective.

Bon appetite!

Mom-Hugs.

My mom is scheduled to arrive tomorrow, assuming that the winter storm's predicted 8 inches of snow doesn't delay her. We have been planning on doing some Restaurant Week-ing, perhaps a bit of shopping, and going to the gym before we depart for Anguilla at the end of the week. However, this weekend was tainted by tragedy. One of my colleagues was killed in a random, faultless and entirely awful accident while on a department snowmobiling trip. He was only 29. After learning this sad news and spending the day with Missy who was on the snowmobiling trip as well, I requested that my mom be sure to pack her mom-hugs as they are much needed. Thankfully, she never comes to visit without them.

The Year of the Tiger.

Last night was Chinese New Year's Eve. To celebrate 2010's Year of the Tiger, Olivia and Jonathan hosted a dinner in Chinatown for 9 people. This dinner was something I've been looking forward to for a month and it more than exceeded my hopes. And, as my friend, Tony the Tiger would say, it was grrrrrrrrrreat.

It was Chinatown's busiest night. Because of that and the size of our group, the restaurant required Olivia and Jonathan to pre-order the menu a few days in advance. A choice between a western and Chinese menu confronted them. While they opted for the western menu, there was still chicken feet and sea cucumber served to us. We've decided that next year, we can take on the Chinese menu with its abalone and shark fin soup.

We arrived at 6:45 and left over four hours later, one of the last tables. That was in part because the owner intentionally sent our food out slowly so we could enjoy it and the company. Combine that with our Fischer Price-style game of making the sound of your Year and our table sounded like a bunch of barn yard animals (lots of horses and sheep, very few of anything else).

I learned that I was born in the Year of the Sheep. Per wikipedia, sheep are: Righteous, sincere, sympathetic, mild-mannered, shy, artistic, creative, gentle, compassionate, understanding, mothering, determined, peaceful, generous, seeks security. Can be moody, indecisive, over-passive, worrier, pessimistic, over-sensitive, complainer, weak-willed.

Many of those characteristics seem wrong (artistic? mothering? really?) but as it applies to everyone born between January 27, 1979 and February 15, 1980, its not surprising its a broad definition.

Gung hay fat choy!

Civilian Status.

Last night, I attended an event at the restaurant at Neiman Marcus, which was essentially a book signing for Bethenny Frankel, a Real Housewife of New York. I got there about an hour late -- I had to go to happy hour first -- which was perfect timing. It was just in time to hear the tail end of Bethenny's talk. I haven't watched all of the Real Housewives series on Bravo, but I have seen both New York and New Jersey. Bethenny struck me on the show and the event as a witty and motivated person. However, I really hate her tagline for her products, books, etc: Skinnygirl. Thankfully, they were serving bubbles in addition to her skinnygirl margarita.

The book signing was hosted by one of the social magazines here. As a result, the place was full of socialite-types, PR girls, and writers and editors for various publications around the city. One of the PR girls was the host of a Halloween party the Spice Girls attended. We chatted most of the event, during the course of which, she described me as a civilian. I am going to adopt that terminology for whenever you throw a poor little lamb into the wolves of a certain industry. I always feel badly when you bring a civilian into a room of lawyers. That said, being a civilian in a room full of socialites and that industry is nothing but comedy. You will always find some beautiful clothes and some curiously timeless faces. And, if you're lucky enough to have friends who know the backstories behind the various people, its a fun time.

When Life Gives You a Fork . . .

Today I came to a fork in the professional road. While delightful utensils, forks are never particuarly fun to confront. This particular fork threw my entire day off. I suspect it will be a rather anxious week ahead as I determine the route. If only I had a GPS.

However, in the late afternoon, one of my friends stopped by my office to discuss the potential paths. That alone was a much-appreciated gesture. We ended the conversation with her offering to buy me a drink. I originally said, "thanks but no thanks." Twenty minutes later, I changed my mind. I mean, what was I thinking? Silly me.

We were quickly joined by another friend for a drink and a snack at a nearby bar. As they told me, one of the best parts of having girl friends is always having someone there who is willing to raise a glass with you, either to celebrate or commiserate. While we generally specialize in good times -- lord knows, we enjoy raising a glass -- my girls were wonderful today. And, it doesn't hurt that we all enjoy the bubbles. The three of us brainstormed regarding the fork and came up with a plan. Shortly thereafter, they had to depart for other tasks.

I headed over to the gym, talking to my mom on the way who was impressed by how bubbly made things better for my mood AND plan. Once at the gym, I realized I wasn't super motivated to workout and decided to do a quick recon for another friend who usually could be found at the gym around that time. And, luckily, I found not one but two friends as soon as I stepped out of the locker room. We soon reconvened at the bar, discussing my fork, along with other topics. Not long after, I was lucky enough to have a fifth friend join us. And, in abundance of support, a sixth friend offered me her ear and counsel on Sunday when she gets back in town.

Long story short: my friends are awesome especially when life is less so.

Secret Shame.

I live in Chicago. There are so many wonderful, unique restaurants here. Yet, tonight, I ate at a chain restaurant. And, to compound my offense, I have to say that it was perfect. In my defense, I was in a weakened state following the receipt of some foreboding information. Further, said chain had Veuve on the wine list.

I will not speak of it again. But, I surely will eat there again, in secret shame.