Gatelys' Latelys

I'm baaaack...

2010-11-11T09:20:00.002-06:00

I'll be able to start posting to the old blog again very soon, so stay tuned.

Funny new TV spots

2008-09-20T11:14:00.007-05:00

Brendan's new TV spots just started running this week!

I think they are really funny, and they definitely get funnier the more you see them and you notice the details like the rat tail and pegged jeans, and the guy in the background in every shot. Watch them 5x and you start laughing harder. Or at least, I do.

You can see them here»

If you're wondering what happened to Lehman and Merril Lynch and Bear Stearns...

2008-09-15T23:44:00.004-05:00

...and Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, and my 401(k) (and, fine, yours)...

This is, by far, the clearest explanation of what happened to the housing bubble, and the economy, that I have come across:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRmFEpl74sI

Wait...that's not it.

Here it is: The Giant Pool of Money

I'm telling you, it's worth the listen.

Cheering in the Sun. Singing in the rain.

2008-09-14T23:00:00.004-05:00

Brendan just did the Ironman last weekend! He did great, and finished the race (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile (a full marathon) run, and he even broke 11 hours! That took almost 42 minutes off his last time. Unbelievable. Pictures to come soon!

Of course, he wasn't feeling so hot at the end--until some magic chicken soup fixed him up and turned his color from gray to his normal rosy pink. I was pretty nervous when he wasn't making a ton of sense when I was talking to him. But, he perked right up. (His blood pressure had dropped to 80/70--which is really low for him. Normally he's around 130/80.) Not enough salt, we suspect.

But, he did so great! I'm really proud of him. And, his parents came out, as did Amy Blevins our resident photographer and endlessly supportive cheerleader. I had such a great time!

The weather could not have been more beautiful! (Of course, the next day it was non-stop pouring rain in the fifties, almost identical weather to the first time Brendan did it, so we definitely lucked out.)

But, the rain has not stopped, it seems. We've just been getting totally hammered in both Chicago and Michigan over the last few week, and over the last two days especially. Over 9 inches in 24 hours.

Yesterday was the wettest day in Chicago's history, in fact.

Here's a rough site to get a few pictures: http://web.me.com/brendangately

(He just built it tonight with his new cool apple applications--so it's still a little rough.) But click on my albums at the top!

And stay tuned for more soon!

Dear Democrats,

2008-08-25T23:01:00.022-05:00

As you are watching the DNC and the angry throngs of people shaking placards and fists, and chanting against Obama in the name of Hillary for McCain, please do me a favor and check their wallets. I'm pretty sure you'll find more NRA than ACLU cards.

A true Hillary supporter would never vote for John McCain, not if they care about the issues she values, or the country that she envisions.

I mean, seriously.

And to these TV reporters who are creating daily "Convention Report Cards" for those of us drooling sloths that require them in order to understand a gigantic party (that needs to be rated?) maybe instead of blithely referring to the protest groups outside carrying Hillary signs as Hillary supporters, maybe do some due diligence--or as some in the field call it--journalism.

Because I'm betting that there are at least a handful (the majority) of those McCain champions/"Hillary lovers" who are also known as--Republicans. Did we not learn anything from Turdblossom?

I'm not saying that there isn't a single Hillary supporter out there. I'm not. But, I find it truly hard to believe the level of support outside the DNC for McCain in the name of Hillary (right after McCain's Hillary ads have run) in a group wallpapered in McCain yard signs, are actually Democrats.

It's called a tactic--one used in numerous other Grimm fairy tales. And guess what. The person who buys this? Gets eaten by that wolf. Every single time.

Rocking Mad City

2008-08-16T09:18:00.040-05:00

Up in Madison, WI this weekend. It is gorgeous. Brendan is riding his bike 100 miles or so. I am planning on going shopping for a new purse. I think my day holds a lot more appeal.

I got up at the crack of dawn this morning to drive my husband to meet a group of other crazy people who are all riding 100 miles together. (You're right, I am the best wife ever.)

In this group he's riding with today are two people that I am not best friends with. One is this girl who used to openly hit on Brendan in front of me. I met her about twenty times before she seemed to be able to remember me, and when I was by myself and smiled and said hi, she wouldn't acknowledge me. Whenever Brendan and I saw her together--she would laugh and flirt and only talk to him, completely ignoring me.

Maybe this is just me, but I find that to be irritating. Usually, I try to put it in perspective, and have sympathy for a person like that. I try to remember she's probably insecure--or has a raging STD. But, even so, sometimes don't you just want to punch people like that in the face?

But, we don't, because we are ladies and ladylike.

On the outside.

What is/was most annoying, though, is that Brendan never noticed this behavior, even with my sketches and dioramas, my fully scripted scenes playing out before him, my claymation, the CGI. In fact, he refused to believe me until it was finally confirmed by outside sources (other boys) that it wasn't just me--that it turns out her selective rudeness was well-known. I think there's a name for someone like that. I can't think of it. It's on the tip of my tongue...

And then my other non-BFF is this guy, who after the Chicago marathon last year--the one where I trained all summer to get a thimble of gatorade in raging heat and wasn't allowed to finish?--made some blanket statement on this running forum about how anyone who didn't get liquids in the race didn't deserve them because they obviously weren't fast enough, and basically didn't belong in a marathon to begin with. Because a marathon is about speed, obviously. Remind me, dude, which marathons have you won?

Look, I am the first to admit, I probably have no business running a marathon. I am a huge slow poke. No arguments there. But, if they're going to take my $120, they owe me a couple of cups of water, whether the people in front of me were faster or not. It's called a business transaction.

Anyway, for now I am back in the hotel, with seemingly little to do for the day--which is a huge relief. I have not had a weekend like this in weeks. It is fabulishious.

Feel free to use that term.

I'm reading Sharp Objects right now, which came out last year and was written by a girl who lives in my neighborhood. I am jealous because I can't seem to finish my third book. My first, I've sort of hit an impass with in terms of knowing if I need to rewrite it, and my second is still percolating. The third, I think I'm ready to polish off, but then I get side tracked...by say, posting a blog entry.

Okay, fine, I'll go write, and then go get the best grilled cheese ever, with a tall sports tea. Or maybe a glass of white wine.

Lollapalooza this weekend--and I'm not there.

2008-08-01T07:30:00.007-05:00

I'm here. In the quietest office in the world.

So, I was just telling my boss--one of them--that he shouldn't be intimidated by starting a blog. "A blog is a free, organic, living, breathing thing," I said with an alarming level of confidence. "You don't have to update it every day. You don't have to update it every week. You just have to be consistent, and also allow for people to be alerted when you post a new post--and if they care to read what you wrote, they will come. And if not, well, they weren't your audience anyway."

And then I promptly logged onto my blog to prove my point, only to discover that I have not posted in an embarrassing two months. Shame on me.

And here's why: I have no idea. I guess my new job is really challenging. Lots of moving pieces. Lots of meetings. Lots and lots of emails. I even got an intern for the summer. Maddie. I want to kidnap her and not let her finish her senior year. Actually, she's been working on her own blog this summer: "Confessions of a Summer Intern."

Sometimes it seems that most of what I do is write emails, either in response to other people's emails, or to create an email that generates a flurry of responses...for me to then respond to.

I am very important.

Brendan has been training for Ironman Wisconsin for the second time, so he's constantly on his bike or running or swimming, or all three. I miss him when he's out doing these things, but on the flip side, I have had a very relaxing summer with quite a bit of free time on my hands. And, in my free time, I have been re-hashing my first novel--which I'm not sure has much improved since the last time. I think it has, but no one who matters (those who would sign on to sell it) seems to agree. And this has led to a grave depression. Okay. Not really. But, doesn't that sound so dramatic? Really, I've got a pretty thick skin at this point.

I guess, though, what I wish was that someone would say to me. "Look, kid, this isn't quite there, but you're real close, see? Stick this in a drawer and show me what else you've got." James Cagney is my fantasy agent.

Or maybe I should chuck it all and give up.

But, I can't, because I can't help but make up stories anyway--and if I do that without the writing part, I'm pretty sure that just makes me liar.

Traveling

2008-06-19T16:32:00.001-05:00

I hate it when hairy-armed men feel perfectly comfortable rubbing their arms against yours when you are simply trying to make yourself as small as humanly possible in the sucky airplane middle seat.

Midnight at the Hotel Gansevoort

2008-05-17T10:39:00.027-05:00

I just came back from a business trip in the NYC. It was a three day educational affair for our clients (and us), with experts speaking on everything from high level trends to new technologies, case studies...the works. And at night there are dinners, socializing, etc. So, Wednesday night, we had dinner, and then I went with the pack of clients and my colleagues to have a drink at the Hotel Gansevoort in the meatpacking district.

So, I'm talking to one of my coworkers and one of our clients, both of whom I'd just met, and...okay, here's the thing at these events. I'm new, first of all, so I don't know anyone. Secondly, we're mixing offices--people across the country--so no one knows who is who. Thirdly, we're there with clients, and you don't know who they are, either.

Anyway, I'm standing there, and this guy comes up to talk to the three of us. He's this Indian guy, dressed in a suit--which we all were--dressed up, not Indian--and he stands there and says hello. So, we all smile politely, and say hello. And then he just stands there. And it is AWKward. You have to understand that 90% of the people in this area were, in fact, some sort of business associate...though there was a couple making out next to us against a window like the ship was going down...and I'm not entirely sure they weren't with our group...but, I digress. So, me being the charming, lovely and beautiful human being that I am, ask if he is having a good time.

The young man said yes, then he took a sip of his drink, and then he says, "I'm here to pick up business."

Okay, that is odd...because it's late night and we're basically in a bar...a fancy clubby Manhattany hotel bar, but a bar nonetheless.

So I ask, "What kind of business are you in?"

Meaning, "Are you a drug dealer? What kind of business could you possibly be picking up at the bar at the Hotel Gansevoort after midnight on a Wednesday night?"

He says, "Wall street." Then, he gets a funny look on his face and he frowns and says, "Not business."

And I ask, "What?"

He says, "Not business. Bitches."

And I say, "Excuse me?"

"I'm here to pick up bitches."

Okay.

When I finally stopped laughing, he was still standing there. I wiped my eyes, and nodded. "Well. I gotta say that's honest. Good for you! That is quite an original approach you've got there."

He stared, and did not crack a smile at any point... but he also didn't leave. So then I calmly explained that I am not the type of bitch he was looking for.

And he says, "Why? Are you married?" (Yes. That's the reason.)

"Yes, I'm a married bitch."

"Oh."

"Yes, thank you, though. I appreciate the thought." Move along, psycho.

But you know the worst part? If I'm being honest? I am secretly thrilled. That crazy high-or- whatever-he-was fool tried to pick me up. Still got it. Raaar!

Later, bitches.

The biziness

2008-05-16T22:24:00.023-05:00

So, as most of you know, I started a new job at a much larger company. An agency, actually, and, I'll admit, it was a big adjustment for me. I really like it, but at first, I was a bit unsure of myself. Maybe I'm getting on in years. I'd been at the same company, a great company, for seven years, and I loved it. But, the culture here is so different, and the company is so much bigger than my last place, that I suppose I didn't trust what I was hearing at first.

That I have autonomy. That people want to help each other succeed. That ambition in corporate america doesn't have to be cutthroat, or a dirty word. There's support, there's encouragement, and there are resources along the ladder.

But, I felt a lot of pressure right away--from myself, in the end--to prove that I was worthy of the trust they had put in me. And then....there's the calendar scheduling system. Our old system, at my past company, was pretty easy. If I needed to schedule a meeting, I went to the offices of the people that I needed to schedule, and stuck my head in, and if they were there I said, "Hey, we should set some time aside." And then, we did. That was it.

But, I'm new. So, first you need to figure out who you need to talk to, and then figure out where they are, and then how to use conference calling...and then this scheduling thingy...which takes skills. Skills, I tell you. Skills I don't (apparently) possess.

Let me give you an example. I needed to schedule a meeting of managers to determine the direction of a project I'm working on. Sounds pretty normal, right? I agree. But, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

So, I had scheduled a couple of minor meetings on the system...and I was feeling pretty confident. And, I set the time, set the place, did my research--and then I went for it. I scheduled it. And managed to get 90% of the attendees to respond positively--that they could make it. Only to realize I'd doubled everyone up against a mandatory HR meeting. So...I re-scheduled. Found a room, scheduled that. Found a good time. Ordered lunch--okay, I found the person who orders lunch, but Jesus, I was sadly proud of that...and then they ordered it. All good.

And, then the meeting.

I showed up. They showed up. And then lunch showed up. And lunch can be a real hardass. I was totally embarrassed. Because, as it turned out, someone else had booked my space. For a client (the nerve!) What happened? I had so diligently researched and set aside. I thought I'd done it correctly. But, as life so often tells you...you are not as good as you think you are. So...we had to relocate. Everyone was really good natured about it, but I still felt like a moron. (I am.)

So, we all squatted in the hallway over soggy sandwiches and made bets on how long I'll last. I have the under.

No, it was fine. There was a room a door down that was wide open because who schedules a meeting over lunch? No one cool.

So.

Things are getting better. I no longer feel like a gibbering idiot. At least on a daily basis. Mostly that happens around once a week now...which, even outside of work, is a marked improvement.

Now I can keep you posted one line at a time.

2008-05-09T13:17:00.005-05:00

See above? Those are tweets.

I am signed up on twitter, so when I go a little long between posts, you can check above, and voila.

And, how do I update these? Through my cell phone or Instant messaging on Gmail. How freaking cool is that?

Wait. Is this not new?

You got to have a J-O-B if you wanna be with me.

2008-04-29T20:35:00.006-05:00

That's what HE said.

So, I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I should really be down with the Twitter, to keep you posted on all the exciting happenings in my life--one line at a time.

For example, on Sunday? We got a Wii. Wii!!!!

So, let's see...what's new? Well, after seven wonderful years at mrc, I took a new job as the marketing manager to the Central Region of Avenue A | Razorfish, at the end of March! It's been a great experience, so far. Everyone is incredibly friendly. But, it's also been totally insane schedule-wise.

My first week was spent in wall to wall meetings, and then my second week I was in NY, and my third week, I went on vacation to San Francisco (my time off between gigs--delayed) and then my fourth week I was in the office trying to get acclimated, and last week I was in NY again, and...this week, I feel like I'm finally starting my job--in that I have time to think, and concentrate on what I need to do in the coming months.

In the meantime, I've fallen off the face of the Earth otherwise. So, forgive me, mon freres. I have many stories to share.

I know the meatwagon kept you sitting on the edge of your seat, waiting for my return--or explanation--but alas, there is no explanation.

I will be back.

Meat wagon with bacon on the overhang.

2008-03-14T01:08:00.003-05:00

So, I know it's been a while since I've posted. Which is super lame. BUT, I had to write because I was driving on the highway and I saw a dumptruck that was piled high with red meat.

Meat.

In the open air, just driving down the highway. And it had this cross bar where some of the meat that looked like bacon was sort of hanging off of it.

Perhaps this is a sign that spring has sprung. Or something.

Vote early, vote often.

2008-02-05T11:58:00.000-06:00

And if you're going to vote, please vote for Barack.

Barack the vote.

2008-02-04T19:36:00.000-06:00

Check this out. It's cool.

Yes, we can.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

2008-01-23T17:03:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure, but I think someone just cranked the A/C in my office, and seeing as how it's 12 degrees outside, it would be much appreciated if they could turn the switch to HEAT. Flames of hell setting, if possible.

For those without roosters...

2008-01-10T23:00:00.000-06:00

I get about 700 emails a day, not counting those that end up in junk mail, but, my favorite SPAM subject line to date just ended up in my inbox.

"Rooster-challenged men can now improve their lives."

I just picture some poor farmer in overalls and a plaid shirt chasing a rooster around the yard, and ready to pull his hair out. Obviously an herbal supplement would TOTALLY help with that.

A bike team powered by a burrito AND a lifesize wedding cake the same news day?

2008-01-07T18:35:00.000-06:00

First of all. I just want to say that I heart Dave Zabriskie. He is hilarious and a cyclist (as in he rides bikes), and he definitely knows how to give good interview.

Secondly, I love the fact that in this article, his cycling team named "Slipstream" is being "Powered by Chipotle." I think they should perhaps look into a second sponsorship...bean-o.

Thirdly, this is my favorite news story so far this year. (Is the cake riding in the carriage or the bride? I can't tell! Seriously!)

Fourthly, I'd better go grab dinner. I think I'm hungry now.

Ho Ho Ho!

2007-12-18T23:39:00.001-06:00

If you're interested in spreading some last minute Christmas spirit around, and helping others...visit this site:

Operation Santa Claus

You can make a difference!

Brown paper packages tied up with string

2007-12-12T08:00:00.000-06:00

Okay, so today is my birthday.

I am 34.

I find that it's one of those birthdays that involves a whole lot of "whoop-de-do." I guess you could say that it's my final year to be in the 29-34 age group. Or the last year of my "early 30s" if you are really stretching it.

The last few years I find that right around my birthday, I reflect on where my life is...and how far away it is from where I thought it would be when I was younger (married to Joey McIntyre and on our karaoke tour of the Western United States)...and then I measure how far away it is from where I actually want it to be (married to Brendan and on our karaoke tour of the Western United States.) What? Is that weird?

But, I'm not in the mood for algorithms, maps, and piecharts this year. So...instead, I've decided to give back...and impart some of my elderyear consumer wisdom a la the great Oprah.

Since my birthday generally finds itself blended with the holiday season anyway, I figure it's about time I embraced it. So, here are some of the products that I have discovered that I simply cannot do without, some of which may make terrific stocking stuffers to behoove your own holiday efforts. And some of which might earn you some blank stares.

Without further ado...here are my favorite things for 2007...and the good news is, you can probably afford these:

Biore daily cleansing cloths: Okay, so to be completely honest...I gave these to one of my sisters last year with a whole lot of fanfare, and I think they were a huge bust. She said she felt like it left a residue on her face. I contend that's the "moisturizing." Actually, I have no idea what she's talking about with the residue. You say residue, I say tomahto. To each his own. But, I personally love them. They exfoliate. They smooth out my skin. And in the last year the wrinkles I was developing around my mouth, forehead and eyes...have actually gotten better. I'm not kidding. I love them...and will use them until I'm a wrinkly old lady--or until next year, whichever comes first.

Hanky Panky Underwear: This is too much information. I know it. But, I'm sorry--this underwear rocks. A couple of years ago, I had a couple relatives give these to me at Christmas, in front of the family, and I was...horrified. I figured it was a not-so-subtle 'get on with the baby-making' hint that had gone too far. In fact, I was all about to get them in a knot about the whole thing when I discovered they are soooooo comfortable. This underwear--although pricey for everyday underthings--is totally worth every penny. LOVE it. Forgiving, sexy, awesome. And hey, even the Wall Street Journal (PDF) endorses it. What, you don't research your panties?

Aquafresh Extreme Clean Whitening toothpaste: My friend Allyson turned me onto this, and it is seriously the most effective toothpaste I've used. And, it's ruined me for other toothpastes. Now, when I use another brand, or even another kind within the brand, I am so disappointed. I feel like my mouth is dirty. I don't know what that says about me...or my dragon breath, in general...but let's not think on it too long.

MOP leave-in conditioner: My hair has never been so shiny or healthy. And, this lasts forever. I think I've had the same bottle for over a year now. AND, no animal testing, all natural, all organic.

Hand-knit natural wool stole: This artisan is a friend of my sister, Meghan. Megs gave this to me last year for my birthday...and it is my all-time favorite thing. I love love love it. I wear it as a scarf, sometimes as a hoodie if my ears are cold, often on my shoulders, if I'm just a little chilled in the office...you'd be shocked at how warm it keeps you. AND...I throw it over my lap and tuck my hands in when I'm in the car, or at my desk and feeling a chill. It is so versatile. So cute. So loved. I thought I lost it last week, and I was really upset...I was about to start crying when I found it. Miracles! I also get fashion props on it every time I wear it. I'm not kidding. Order one today!

This American Life: This isn't so much a single thing, although you can download individual podcasts on iTunes, and CDs. Check out the site! This radio program on NPR...if you've not heard it (and I know most of you probably have) but...it's addictive. It'll make you cry. And it'll make you laugh. Usually in the same hour. It's audio documentary, and it's on every Saturday at noon in Chicago. But, check your local listings. Personally, I just download everything to iTunes. Great for the long roadtrip.

Glimmer Train: I don't normally like literary mags, and quite often short stories leave me cold. A good short story can skew your view of the world and haunt you forever. But, most often they seem to be a bit heavy-handed...cloying academic strokes that are at once bleak and unsatisfying. There's always some overly symbolic broken piece of furniture, peeling wallpaper, a Steinbeck-inspired jalopy or a Harper Lee rope swing, and the smell of mothballs or urine, often both, from a cat or the aged relative. And sometimes it just gets boring. BUT. This lit mag, Glimmer Train, seems a lovely departure, I think. Yes, it still fits literature, good literature in fact...but the stories are woven beautifully, and I didn't fall off the toilet in a sleep-coma. Because that's the only place I read. The toilet.

Revlon Lipgloss: My friend Amy introduced this to me a couple of years ago, and I love her for it. I think of her every time I go to buy it. I love this stuff. It doesn't taste gross. It isn't super thick and heavy. I'm addicted. I always have 2 or 3 in my purse at all times. You can do a spot check. I won't let you down.

WXRT Live from the Archives compilation: This is pretty cool. Yes, you buy it through Starbucks, but it's got a charity benefit...and if you just buy this for Lily Allen's Smile, I think you'll be happy. You can hear a sample of it on the site.

Dead Sea Spa Patented, Professional Nail Buffer: Anyone who knows me knows how nuts I am about my manicures.

Right.

But, last Christmas, when Brendan and I were wandering Michigan Avenue, I got accosted by one of those pushcart guys that sells random items at the mall. He asked if I was wearing nail polish, and I said "No." And he quickly grabbed my hand and began rubbing this weird thing on one of my fingers. Okay, that sounds bad. It was a nail implement of some kind, but in seconds, my nail looked like it was totally polished. It had the sheen of clear nailpolish, and it was smooth, so smooth I couldn't stop running my fingers over it. But, I stayed strong, and walked away.

The problem, I soon discovered was...there was only one done. I was transfixed while typing at work, dialing the phone, driving. This beautiful nail, reflective as glass, made the rest look sad, ridged, dull...hideous. So, I began a mission to try to find this magical buffer thing--that the guy wouldn't sell me unless it was packaged with $40 worth of lotions I would never use.

And...I found it. I found that Patented, Professional Nail Buffer on the Internets and someone who would sell it to me without needless trappings. And I have to say...I've shamelessly mugged many of my friends and relatives with this implement, much the same way the mysterious pushcart salesman accosted me. It's addictive. You will too!

Honorable Mentions: I do have a few more...My sister Meghan's paintings (she was supposed to send me her Web site--email me if you want to see her work.) Kiehl's 15spf facial moisturizer, Dove's Pro-Age soap, Madison, WI (although that's hard to fit in a stocking), The Quiet Man dvd, Gap long sleeve stretch shirts (the stretchy ones-great for layering). David Sedaris, Melissa Marr, Jennifer Weiner, Ryan Adams, Colin Hay...etcetera.

I could go on all day long, but I have a birthday to rock.

BCS, you are out of style. Please take the runway.

2007-12-02T23:00:00.000-06:00

I love college football.

One of the reasons I truly love it is, unlike pro football, it's still somewhat pure. The vast majority of college players will enter the world as accountants, gym teachers, potted plants. They'll never have the chance to step into the NFL combine, or cash that rookie signing bonus. They're just like me, except with a slightly larger neck and a much faster forty.

And, one of my absolute favorite things about college football is the upset. The games are so unpredictable, and Any Given Saturday is so accurate and possibly never more than this year. Only in college football can an Appalachian State knock off a Michigan. Fantastic. (And, Notre Dame actually ran out of "gimme" schools this year. I think my high school football team may appear on their schedule for 08.)

But, I'm sick sick sick of the BCS. The voters, the prognosticators, the analysts, the old boys club determining (buying) the National Championships. Enough already.

It's such a money game. The BCS conference was born of a need to "fix" the problem of cronies voting to put each other's teams into the money, and leaving others out in the cold. But, when an undefeated team like Hawaii doesn't get a shot at the National Championship when every single other team lost, there's something so clearly broken it makes me want to scream that the Emperor is naked as a jaybird.

When Hawaii is left out, why as a football nation do we not stand up and protest?

And why do I have to watch Ohio State--who lost to Illinois--play for a National Championship against LSU--are you freaking kidding me?--who lost to TWO teams. Arkansas--and Kentucky. Yet, they continue to maintain the number 2 spot?

I want one single human being to explain to me how LSU losing twice (and to an UNRANKED Arkansas) should ever put them into the National Championship when there is an undefeated team out there...and other teams that have lost once.

In a NY Times article, this is how the end of the game against Arkansas was described: "L.S.U.’s fourth-down karma had finally run out. And its chances of playing for the national title, like the chances of so many other top-ranked teams this season, had disappeared."

But, apparently not! WHY??? I would really like to know why! Tell me! Make your case!

This is a travesty. At the end of the day Hawaii has a right to prove themselves.

Hawaii has won every game on their schedule, and against ranked teams mind you. Boise State was 17 when they played them, and I want to say Nevada was ranked as well, but I can't remember. And is it really their fault if their schedule is lighter than most, and their conference a little weaker? Outside of their conference who are they going to play?

How is Hawaii supposed to handle it? You try setting up schedules to play the LSUs and the Ohio States of the world and get them to take time away from their training, and put their kids on 14 hour flights to play in a four hour matchup. They'll laugh you right out of their offices. They aren't going to take the risk of taking time out of preparing for their "real" opponents, or take the risk of jet lag.

Hawaii already starts from a disadvantage. Their coach doesn't have enough in his budget to fly out to recruit his high school players! Instead, he must rely on them coming to him.

So, when all the stars align, and Hawaii has a Cinderella season. What do we do? We ignore them. Snub them. Circle the wagons, old boys club, and toss out a bone.

I am really disgusted.

What we need, and what we have always needed, is a playoff system. But we'll never get one unless we collectively make a big stink. It's, at the root of everything, a money issue. Isn't it always? It gets draped in all sorts of dressing, but it comes down to green. And, the money comes from us. The fans. So, I say enough already.

Play ten games to prove your mettle and get your ranking. Then the top 16 play bracket games to determine the National Championship. That means three weeks of games--so 13 total for the season...which is what the top schools are playing now anyway. The major bowls rotate through. And, then the "lesser bowls" host conference championships--which don't include the top 16. More money all around. More schools participating. More programs showcased nationally for better recruitment.

The BCS claims they haven't even researched a playoff system because the conferences and coaches don't want one. (And then they literally list a who's who of the perennial top 10 quoting about what a problem that would be.) How blatantly elitist does this have to be?

Interview Boise State. See what they think. When Boise State beat Oklahoma last year, was that just an accident? Did Oklahoma trip over their shoelaces, or did they get outclassed by a better team?

I do understand the strength of schedule argument. I do. But, I'm sorry, when you lose twice, and once to an unranked school...that argument completely goes out the window. If this polling system is supposed to be so accurate, then that slices both ways. Why is it, too, that some schools actually fell in the polls after winning this year, and some schools when they lost, gained position?

Do you need me to set this up for you? I can make some time. Here, let me get my calendar.

The argument that the playoff system would in some way diminish the football season is silly. There aren't that many games, especially if you narrow the regular season to ten. If every game is pretty much life or death to your team--which they already are--people are going to be watching even more closely.

Keep the "BCS" rankings. That's fine. You want to keep voting for LSU or Ohio State, but not vote for the Cals of the world or the Oregons when they stumble? Fine. But, the top 16 teams should go to a playoff. And, if they don't belong there, they're going to be exposed...even if it is in a 3rd OT.

Ooh! Update on the plywood house.

2007-11-20T18:34:00.000-06:00

They painted the front of it mint green!

So, you know, it's all better. Ignore previous post.

I'll huff, and I'll puff....and I'll blow your siding right off.

2007-11-19T07:00:00.000-06:00

Brendan and I know that our house is not perfect. It leans a little. The back needs tuckpointing and painting. We probably need to continue our fence along the side, and put on a deck. Trim could use a coat of paint.

But, the house to the left of ours makes ours look practically perfect.

The house adjacent to ours has been abandoned for five years this February, and was boarded up by the Chicago police because of the activity there when we first moved in. It is so annoying to me that an abandoned building in a city neighborhood can just be left sitting there, rotting away before our very eyes, with no consequences.

And, apparently the developer is actually following the law. As long as he has someone cut down the weeds once a year, and he puts up a fence to keep people out (using our house as a brace of course) apparently he can keep it that way forever. Shouldn't there be a timeframe attached to it? Having an abandoned house 2-1/2 feet from mine for almost five years seems like a hazard. Maybe that's just me.

I don't care if the guy ever builds on it. I just want it torn down. But, here's the thing...the developer apparently can't tear it down because he needs to keep the building width intact until he is ready to start building so he can "grandfather in" the width of the house to city code. Only, he can't apparently start building because the plans he has for the house are too big for the land that he bought (because why bother measuring?) so he would need to get a zoning exemption. What a maroon.

So, the house has been sitting "empty" for over four and half years now...empty, except of course when it was filled with poop from the homeless people who were living in it. But, after contacting our alderman and getting basically nowhere, writing e-mails, making phone calls, trying to figure out what the heck can be done, being told basically nothing can be done...there's been some activity.

At first, when Brendan called me last Friday, his voice full of glee, I thought...maybe. Maybe this jackass developer was finally cashing in his chips. But, this morning, I find that not to be the case.

The men working on the house pulled up in a pickup truck, pried the chain-link fencing away with pliers and began bringing in plywood. Large sheets of plywood.

I ran into one of them in my backyard this morning, and he smiled and said, "No worry. We clean it all up."

What do you mean, you'll clean it all up?

Hmm....now I don't actually know what bringing plywood is going to do, and I'm no construction expert...but it didn't strike me as the first thing you do when tearing a house down. And then, as I drove away this morning, I noticed the stairs. They were re-built. The stairs in the front of the house that the Chicago police cut off and removed to keep the homeless people from breaking in and living in the building have been re-built.

This might seem like a good sign, but with the plywood and the stairs combo, it looks like they are going to "cute up" the house by nailing sheets of plywood all over it, and putting the stairs back.

Is that their long-term solution?

I've had it. First, we had homeless people in and out of there, and the place had an unbelievable stench that would leak out of it. Then, we put up with an infestation of black flies from the people pooping in buckets that apparently was causing the stench to begin with. Then, once the police boarded it up, we had people "camping" in the backyard and using our yard as a toilet, which also lead to me finding condoms, and cigarettes, beer bottles...and condoms. Yeah, I'll say that one twice.

We had styrofoam/insulation piled all over our yard that blew over when random people began climbing ladders along the the side of our house at night to "harvest" the house's aluminum siding. Strange people scaling ladders on the side of your house under dark of night is pretty creepy, and you can imagine how great a half-sided house without its siding that's been boarded up looks like.

Those actions, and the other neighbors' complaints about "campers," finally led to the developer fencing the yard in--by nailing boards into OUR house...which completely blocked our ability to access our garbage cans, and we were forced to go around our block to take out our trash...and then we've been staring at a disgusting wall of nastiness for four years.

But, then again, why would you spend money building stairs that no one is going to use? I don't get it. All I do get is that we now have the privilege of living next to a giant plywood house indefinitely.

Excellent.

Two peanuts were walking down the street...One was a salted.

2007-11-13T17:17:00.000-06:00

As anyone who lives in Chicago can tell you, Morton salt's slogan is: "When it rains, it pours" or at least that's what it says on the ginormous factory.

I admit, I have never understood this slogan. It's one of those things you vaguely wonder about as you drive by it...and try to make sense of...but never really feel closure about. I always knew I didn't totally get it, and it bugged me, especially being in marketing/advertising. I thought I should understand it right away, inherently know it in my bones...at least be able to work through it.

But, I've been wondering about it since I was a kid...so it became this familiar sort of back of my head puzzle. Something I never thought to look up, but would work on--like a riddle--each time I drove by it.

I thought maybe it meant that a little Morton salt goes a long way...but, I also knew that really just doesn't mean the same thing as "when it rains, it pours".

I also thought maybe it had double-meaning and referred to industrial salt or something to make sure the roads didn't ice up. Like when it rains, Morton salt pours. Or something. But rain, obviously, isn't snow or ice. I just couldn't figure it out.

But, here's the explanation:

"[The slogan] refers to the way that Morton salt (unlike other salts on the market) did not clump when it got humid. Therefore, when it rains, our salt literally pours."

Ahhhh!

Here's that post»
And, here's their early ad explaining it»

My brain feels lighter!

Now, if I could only figure out what Leggo my Eggo means...

You just need to weegle it, si?

2007-11-06T23:32:00.000-06:00

When I was younger, I used to let things like "bad moments" quickly build up to become "bad mornings" which would then become "bad days." And, when it happened, it wasn't such a leap that bad days could turn into bad weeks.

Now, I should probably clarify that these "bad" events were generally TERRIBLE atrocities like the woman behind the counter at Dunkin Donuts pouring half a quart of heavy cream into my coffee when I asked for skim milk. Or slyly putting a blueberry doughnut in my bag instead of a blueberry bagel. Or, shrugging her shoulders that they were "out" of everything...refusing to look in back, when you could see clearly that shelves of baked/fried goods were sitting there just beyond the door. (Come to think of it, that lady at Dunkin Donuts had a serious attitude problem.)

But those little things would irk me...and my righteous indignation would grow from a slow simmer into full blown road rage in no time when the girl in the car behind me (applying makeup while talking on her cell phone) would hit the gas every two seconds and come within inches of rear-ending me in already infuriating bumper-to-bumper traffic...and I would totally lose it. Or I would direct my red-hot ire at the guy reading a book (while driving) whose automobile would erratically float across lanes, and...you know what? I'm sorry, I still think that guy should be shot.

But, I digress.

The point is, as I've gotten older my attitude has changed for the better. I rarely let "bad moments" become "bad mornings" and while occasionally I have crappy days, who doesn't?

So, yesterday morning, I got up, well-rested, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed...I didn't shave...and made my way to my car a little ahead of time. Ahead of time, you say? On a Monday? Mon Dieu!

And, whistling to myself, I tried to turn the key in the ignition. And it wouldn't start. Which car, you ask? The old car that I've been constantly complaining about? The one on its last legs? No! I'm talking about the brand new car that we've just invested our future baby's college savings in...the one I haven't yet made a second payment on...the one that's supposed to get me to work consistently. The one that I loved, and have even considered licking, up until yesterday morning.

But I now have a bruise the size of a quarter on the palm of my hand from where I was trying to turn the key for over an hour. I cried, I yelled, I swore, I pleaded, I accidentally set off the alarm, I stroked the dashboard like the sleek smooth hide of a dolphin. Nothing. The key would not budge.

I would have gotten Brendan up, but frankly Brendan is not all that helpful when he is sleeping. That point was driven home definitively two weekends ago during a thunder and hellfire rainstorm where at 4am someone began frantically pounding on our front door for ten minutes. He just patted me on the face and said, "S'nothing" and went immediately back to sleep while I lay there desperately listening for any sign that someone was trying to break a window/sharpen their razor fingers/pee on our lawn furniture.

And, as the pounding ceased, I became convinced that it was probably not someone trying to lure us to our own certain demise...but someone trying to help us and tell us our house was on fire, or possibly evacuating the neighborhood from a gas leak. So I got up, searched for a weapon, and made my way downstairs to confront the murderer/urinator/fireman while Brendan snored away.

With this episode fresh in my mind, I figured his "I'll get up and help you fix the car" spirit would sound more like, "Call mechanicpoliceharrypotter need sleepy." And really, after an hour of swearing and weeping...what was left for him to do? I called the dealership, ordered the tow truck, made all of the arrangements...including calling work to let work know my brand fancy freaking new car is sucktacular.

And then the tow truck driver, Angel (isn't that such a great name for a tow truck guy?) arrived, popped into the driver's seat, and like nothing...he started up the car.

Huh?

So, gaping, I asked him what kind of magic was involved and stared at his ears to see if he had Elfin blood. He smiled and pointed to the steering wheel, "You just have to weegle it. Si?"

There's no way I didn't "weegle" that f-ing steering wheel. I mean, right? Ha! Right? Didn't I?

I don't know.

All I do know is that this is clearly going to be a crappy week.

I rooted for Navy.

2007-11-04T20:36:00.001-06:00

Here's a little game, I like to call, "Find the funny". So, after the Notre Dame game yesterday where we lost to Navy...to be clear...the one where we lost to Navy...here was the local news coverage. Ah. Hilarious. It made my night. See if you can find the three flubs to start...and, then after, if you want to watch the highlights, let it play.

In the fine tradition of copywriting hilarity.

2007-10-26T20:47:00.001-05:00

This is the e-mail we, as marathon participants, received today:

Congratulations to everyone who participated in The 2007 LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon. On what was a historic and challenging day, you succeeded in pursuing your goals.

All I can say is wow. I continue to scratch my head in wonder at these people. What does that even mean?

AIBA! AIBA! Ándale!

2007-10-26T20:03:00.000-05:00

So, the AIBA (Amateur International Boxing Association) volunteering for the World Championships was, in a word, fascinating.

The first night, it was a little chaotic because there had been an enormous storm system that blew through Chicago the day before, and all of the teams flying in got delayed, so the practice schedule was off. So, teams were showing up that didn't have rings scheduled, etc. And, I don't know if you know this...but boxers tend to like to ...um...fight. You don't want gatherings of huge angry groups.

Actually, they were great, but I did hear some raised voices in languages I can't begin to guess at. However, by the second night they really had it together. I was impressed.

And here are the teams I am rooting for, in no particular order...because you kind of have to choose sides, don't you?

Turkey, Ireland, Egypt, Sweden, and Croatia...and of course the US. But I didn't get to see them practice.

Turkey was incredibly polite. The coach was incredibly nice, and the boys were respectful.
Ireland kept setting up sparring with everyone, so their rings were like a party, and always full of people, which was really exciting. Plus they called me lass when I brought them towels.
Sweden, because they had a rocking soundtrack...and um, interestingly not a blonde in the bunch.
Croatia, because they all went out of their way to thank me, and one guy on the team I seriously thought was going to kiss me on the cheeks or something, and I just kind of froze because I wasn't sure what to do until he started laughing and lifted my hat. Oh, cultural/language barrier...you had me at Hola, Bonjour, Top of the morning.
And, then Egypt, they were quite the flirts, but also had to lose major weight in the few days before weigh in in order to compete. Poor guys were running around dressed up like they were in a blizzard and the gym was a sauna. I related.

Also, we got to see them do some really cool training things.

Okay, first of all, it's just like Rocky. Only less, um...old.

One guy did a million somersaults in a row and then would jump up and try to shadow box to maintain his equilibrium.
One team hit tennisballs at their guy and made him dodge them. Okay, maybe not cool so much as bizarre and fascinating.
And, they really do do push ups on their knuckles. And jump rope. And punching bag ducking, and lots of running.

Plus, there was some nakedness. They had these scales set up and I kept turning corners and coming across naked guys. I don't get the impression that they really cared, as they are in the best shape of their lives. But, I still felt like a giant perv...and signed up for more shifts, immediately.

Just kidding. I couldn't. They were full.

There was also a lot of spit. That part was not so much awesome...because it didn't always end up in the jars. But, it comes with the territory.

But, more than anything, you do feel that you really are in the presence of greatness. These guys, many of them, are...or are going to be...Olympians.

So, if you can, go to the bouts. It's going to be amazing. I can't wait.

Pugilism, B.O. and the danger of solitude

2007-10-19T22:48:00.000-05:00

The last few days have been really busy. Work has been stressful and crazy. Lots of projects that seemed simple and straightforward on the outset, are in fact complicated, time-consuming, and are requiring quite a bit of midnight oil to be burned.

I have been working on some writing, too, when I have free time, which has been rare, but I find that it helps my process for work as well. I am now even toying with an idea for a short story, something to keep the creative gears moving when I'm working things out on my larger projects. I haven't written a short story since college, and it is sort of intimidating, particularly when you start reading short stories again, and are reminded why the Flannery O'Connors and Kafkas of the world...are, well, Flannery O'Connor and Kafka.

I am loving the whole process of it all...even the failure...but it can make you act a little anti-social/weird. I'll get up from writing and to me I've have just spent five hours of my Saturday hanging out with friends, working out problems/differences, going crazy, falling in love, breaking up, losing my hair, getting the stomach flu, but in real life, I haven't spoken to a single person all day...and didn't notice the difference. I know. I sound, cuckoo, right?

And sometimes, I feel like I'm going to bump into my characters at Milk & Honey, or at the Jewel. In fact, when I was finishing the first book, I found I would sort of look for them in crowds, as if they could actually be there. But, as interesting, or funny, or as flawed as they are...their biggest flaw is that...um...they don't actually exist. I can't go to grab coffee with them, or see a movie.

Brendan worries because I constantly read and re-read the first book, and continually rewrite it, because he thinks I will never be done. I think he should be more concerned that I read it over and over because I miss my peeps.

So, in the interest of not turning into a crazy-eyed bearded hermit, I've decided to start forcing myself to get out there, and circulate among the breathing...and in this case the heavy breathing.

I'm volunteering tonight for the AIBA Championships. AIBA is Amateur International Boxing Association, and I'm working at the training facility. And...I have NO idea what I'm doing. But, I'm signed up for the same thing tomorrow night and working with my friend Jen then, so hopefully it isn't miserable.

I picture sitting at a table checking people in and handing them towels, and I'm working 6-11:30. I can't imagine anyone is going in to train at 10 at night. But, maybe? I just don't want to be handling mucus, spit or blood. Anything else, I think I can sort of handle.

Watch, I'll be working the mucus, spit, blood jar...on standby for eyeball collecting.

Perfect!

I also signed up for an online class on getting published...focusing on navigating the publishing process. (It's very nebulous.) It should be particularly interesting because the teacher happens to be an agent who turned my original query down. I mean, how often do you have the opportunity to go back and figure out why? It's already worth the class fee as he's provided us with some great literary resources/insights that I knew nothing about. I'm really looking forward to the rest of the class.

Other than that, the other major topic in our house is that Brendan's computer at work is causing him some distress. Apparently it's about six years old and it freezes at the most inopportune times, but since he's a copywriter, he doesn't really need a 'fancy' computer. I can see that...but also...it sort of needs to work. So, he requested a laptop so that when he's collaborating in other offices, he can get his ideas down.

So, someone stepped up and offered him an older Mac laptop...but the downside? It apparently smells like B.O. (There was a problem a few years back with the glue on the keyboards, and as it heats up it smells like body odor.) Isn't that awesome?

I say, Febreze it...which is frankly, my solution to everything from compound fractures to dirty diapers. But, Brendan just says, no thanks...and then he looks a little like he's going to cry and makes a face like he can already smell it.

"Notre Dame...more like Notre Lame."

2007-10-10T20:29:00.000-05:00

Oh, BC, you card. That's my favorite part of this clip.

I don't have much love for BC. In fact, the exact opposite of love. And it is that four letter word that has wrapped itself in maroon and gold and taken up residence in the blackest part of my heart.

Here's why.

It still hurts! We were #1 in the country and only had one more task...to beat crappy Boston College. During this clip, if they pan to the audience, you might see me drying my tears on the arm of a flannel shirt tied around my waist and wearing a football jersey.

Why, oh why, didn't anyone tell me how awful this was, and shun me as a sloven? Sometimes I really wish I could go back in time and have a talk with that girl. Poor doe-eyed Joey Lawrence fashion victim.

But, I will give BC their due...this is funny and pretty true: Hopeless Notre Dame Fan»

Apologize already. Sheesh!

2007-10-09T22:45:00.000-05:00

In Chicago there is an ongoing debate about who is to blame for the marathon going as poorly as it did. Some people think the weather. Some people blame the runners for not knowing their limits. Some people blame the marathon committee. And, that would be me.

The weather, to be sure, was terrible. The runners, some of them I'm sure were morons and pushed themselves into illness, and those people have only themselves to blame.

However, the fact that the marathon didn't provide almost a quarter of its runners with any sort of liquid for the first eight miles...is frankly, dangerously negligent.

This is the quote from the 2007 Chicago marathon race director, Carey Pinkowski, that makes my blood boil:

"Is there anything we could have done better? No," Pinkowski said, taking a nervous sip from a water bottle. (Not kidding.) "We anticipated the weather. I'm very proud of the way things went."

Here's the full article. This is so ridiculous.

Here's some video footage where you can see basically the same thing I saw.

The only thing they did right was end it.

They claim that there was enough water...but...in talking out of both sides of their mouth...they say, if there wasn't, it was because earlier racers poured too much drinking water over themselves to cool down. Then...they said there was water, but we were too impatient to wait for people to pour it.

Considering everyone around me was walking after mile 7, I'm pretty sure no one was so worried about their "time" that they couldn't wait for someone to fill up a cup. Such bunk.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

Doesn't anyone care about the truth anymore? If I were the Olympic committee, what would give me pause is the excuses and denials they are making, rather than sincere concern...or the willingness to make things better.

The race director is also apparently shocked and surprised that racers would pour glasses of water on themselves. Um...that happens in any 5k over 65 degrees to bring heart rates and core body temps down. If you don't know that in 90 degree heat people are going to douse themselves with the only water available on the race course, then you are clearly incompetent and shouldn't be allowed to run a race like this.

This event was so grossly mismanaged, and the best part is they've been nothing but insulting ever since, pointing absolute blame at the athletes. And people are jumping on the bandwagon...people who basically admit that they don't know what they are talking about. I love this guy from the Tribune. What a maroon.

Don't get me wrong. I understand where that opinion comes from, and I would probably feel the same way if the race had provided everything they promised would be there, and people were pushing themselves into illness anyway. But, that's really not how things went down.

First of all, water and Gatorade isn't a luxury that the event is being nice enough to provide us with. It's a necessity...and we paid for it. (The race took in $5,000,000 from the racers alone, not counting any other sponsors or advertisers.) Gatorade and water is tantamount to air in terms of being essential to compete in an event like this.

I'm not sure I would have started the race had I known their promises of ice and misters weren't actually going to be there...and certainly wouldn't have if I'd known about the lack of fluids.

And, frankly, I'm disgusted by Carey Pinkowski's continual finger-pointing at the athletes. Why wouldn't you just say, "Hey, there were clearly reported problems and we're going to have an independent investigation to look into what went wrong so it doesn't happen again." And then...investigate it.

You should WANT to know where you screwed up. How can you get better if you don't know what went wrong in your plan? Stop sitting there shrugging your shoulders and trying to spin this disaster into a victory of some kind. It's a train wreck! You need to apologize, take stock, and make certain this never happens again.

Just to give you some perspective of how truly ridiculous this was, here's the quote from one volunteer at mile 19 aid station.

"We only had two bags of ice to begin with," he said. "We thought we'd get more, but then we found out that was our whole supply for the day."

2 bags of ice...let's see. 2 bags of ice, in 90 degree heat over 6 hours, divided by 36,000 runners. Hmmm...yeah, that sounds right. Are we sure we need two whole bags?

Then this:

Jay Shefsky, volunteering at the 10-mile point, said runners were arriving parched.

"Almost whenever I was handing out Gatorade, often I would hear the runners say, 'This is the first Gatorade I've gotten,'" he said. "And this was the 10-mile mark."

Sharon Pines, 57, also passing out drinks at the 10-mile mark, said volunteers were forced to refill a 2-foot water cooler at a nearby restaurant and reuse cups runners had thrown to the ground. After scrambling for almost an hour, she said, volunteers discovered a truck full of supplies parked nearby -- but by then most of the runners had passed.

Yes, I mean...clearly Carey Pinkowski should be proud of the way things went.

Yikes.

What he should be is ashamed of himself for his post-race comments, and frankly, out of a job.

Update: Chicago Marathon

2007-10-07T23:33:00.001-05:00

A 35 year old man died on the 18th mile.

Brendan had to fight off a woman whom he was trying to help on mile 25 because she was falling into scaffolding and couldn't stand up. But, she seemed to think she was okay...but she couldn't stand up, she was so out of it, and was literally fighting him off like he was attacking her when he was just trying to hold her up to prevent her from collapsing.

Meghan, my sister, and my father saw people lying in dirty gutters--no medics had gotten to them yet, but the crowd was trying to help--and one guy was just screaming.

And after I "finished" there were guys in these towers with bullhorns screaming, "runner down" "another runner down" "we need wheelchairs!" "Another runner" "Someone get over here NOW."

And, then the race director came out and said publicly that they had more than enough water. Bull.

I understand that they are afraid to make an apology, but can't they just say clearly something went terribly wrong, and they are going to make sure this never happens again? Open an investigation? Instead of scratching your head and saying, "It was hot. What do you want us to do? Change the weather?"

And the Emergency medical staff, and all the police and firefighters and doctors and ambulances. God bless them. They were great. As were the volunteers.

I just don't understand why the race was so unprepared? Weather is notoriously unpredictable, and they had a week's notice that it was going to be unseasonably warm.

If they didn't have the proper implements in place, they should never have started it. It was, in a word, irresponsible.

Race report: 2007 Chicago Marathon

2007-10-07T15:10:00.000-05:00

Spell debacle. M-A-R-A-Okay, I won't bore you with the spelling.

So, I started the marathon...and I finished the "race" but...I only ran 18.5 miles. How is that possible, you ask? Isn't a marathon 26.2 miles?

Yes. It is! But this marathon got cancelled, and turned into what announcers began calling a "fun run".

Note the photos of the people in wheelchairs.

Brendan Gately, 34, who finished the full 26.2 had this to say, "I don't think there was anything fun about it."

We had an unexpected heatwave for October...fine...but the race organizers KNEW that it was going to be really hot as of early in the week--and in fact, even issued heat advisories--and they assured us there would be misters, extra water, extra gatorade, ice, icy sponges...

Not the case. Not even close. Certainly not even close to enough. I mean, I can't believe how bad this was.

First of all, they should have arranged to have water at every mile once they knew it was going to be 90 degrees...but they stuck to their plan of every 2 miles. And, as someone who is trying to run a 5 hour marathon (not fast) all of the water was gone by the time we got there.

Mile 2: No water. No gatorade.
Mile 4: No water. No gatorade. NOTHING.
It's about 83 degrees at this point. We're RUNNING.
Mile 6: Some water, but they would only pour you a tiny amount, and they were clearly going to run out.
Mile 8: Boystown. Awesome. They were great. Enough liquids. Drag shows, cheerleaders, gay drill team, disco music. It was fun at this point.
Mile 10: People were out with their hoses, hosing us down. Old Town was amazing. There's this one mansion that was blaring Metallica, and another that looked like a frat party blaring the blues brothers. It was fun, and great, and I mean, they were all out to support, cheering. But, the stop was very short on water again....and hard to get cups.

I won't bore you with the details here..but you're seeing a pattern right? This was all the way through to Mile 15 where they did at least seem to have enough. But, way too late!

You can't run 15 miles with no water no matter what the weather is. You can actually die--as in lose your life. Period. You certainly can't run it in 90 degree heat.

So, after the debacle that it was, they sent us back to Grant Park and told us it was over. People were walking as early as mile 5...because they HAD to. There was no water. People were literally splashing water from gross fountains...just to be clear, not drinking fountains...fountains in front of buildings with duck and algae prevention chemicals and who knows what else...in their face and I'm assuming some drank it, because how desperate do you have to be?

I actually was fine because my sister and father met us twice with a backpack full of beverages...gatorade, water, etc...and then there was the kindness of strangers. Fire departments opened up fire hydrants. And the spectators were really wonderful. I do love Chicago. They all had hoses, sprinklers, and people went and bought trays of water at coffee shops to hand out, cases of bottled water, and I saw bags and bags of ice and cases of water they were buying with their own money.

THAT was worth seeing, and all told, I had a fantastic race. I did. Up until they re-routed us when they broke our spirit and told us all to walk and not to bother. But I understand now why they had to.

I learned from Brendan, who did the whole thing, that when he got to mile 19 or 20, they clearly weren't going to have enough water.

I'd really like to know what happened. I mean, when people don't have water mile 2, wouldn't you make sure that mile 6 and everything past that was stocked? At the very least you could catch mile 8. (We're not that fast. I could have gotten in a car, driven to costco and back and delivered a truckful of water in the hour and a half it took someone like me to go that distance.)

They were supposed to have misters, things you can run under and they cool you off...on mile 19, 20, 21, 23, 25 or something like that. Brendan said he saw one guy with a hose--no misters.

Nevermind the fact that that's WAY too late in the race to suddenly cool us down...

They were also supposed to have icy sponges...and apparently they did somewhere Brendan passed by in the 19mile + range...but only two people were handing them out ...for 45,000 people. Two.

They were supposed to have icy towels when you finished. Nope.

Instead of water, ice, gatorade...what do you think the first thing they handed you was? No..go ahead guess.

The aluminum foil-ish "blankets" designed to keep your body heat in during cold days. But, people didn't know, so they were wrapping themselves in them...cooking like baked potatoes, essentially.

The best part was, in order to re-route us, they had us run through the "recovery" area--basically backwards to get to the finish...with no one to let any of the people who had just finished the actual marathon know that we were coming through, so we were having to dodge all of these people who were basically fainting.

We didn't hear the ambulance sirens stop from the time they re-routed us until we left to go home...and when we jumped on the highway, we saw one marathoner sitting on the ground on the side of the highway with with his wife state troopers and fire trucks because he'd obviously either gotten sick or had a medical emergency.

It was terrible.

Rock your inner Jackson Pollock

2007-10-03T21:30:00.000-05:00

Paint your own Pollock without the mess.

THIS is my horoscope today. This?

2007-10-03T21:13:00.000-05:00

"Although these are uncertain times filled with potential hazards, you may be unflinchingly optimistic about your future today. Your feelings are intensified. Loving Venus trines passionate Pluto, as the dark lord of the underworld nears the end of his long-term visit to your sign. You are through the most challenging part, yet you still must allow your feelings to complete the transformation. Don't rush the process; you'll arrive at your destination on time."

Um...first of all, I had NO idea the dark lord of the underworld was visiting! I would have at least gone to Costco for some apps.

And, I was twenty minutes late for work today. Hel-lo! A little accuracy?

October-December Romance

2007-10-02T17:50:00.000-05:00

It's Brendan's birthday today! He's 34.

I never really think about how much closer he is to the winter of his life than I am until his birthday. Maybe it's because it's October...and fall. Maybe it's the leaves turning orange, then tan, shriveling and trembling on barren branches...or the Earth's inevitable turn from green to brown to gray.

But, still I find myself in a fantastic mood. After all, I won't be 34 for a couple more months.

So...any ideas on what to get him? The gift I was supposed to get him has fallen through.

Sunday, bloody Sunday.

2007-10-01T20:29:00.000-05:00

So...I may have miscalculated with this whole marathon training thing. (It's this Sunday.)

I'm not sure if I did enough training. I thought I had, but the last few runs. Ugh.

I also haven't lost a single pound...and in fact, I have a sneaking suspicion I may have gained a couple. I don't get it. How can you gain weight when you're running 14 miles, 16 miles, 18 miles? I mean, I only stopped for snacks a couple of times during my long runs, opting to wolf down a bag of Combos over something nutritious and gross like a banana.

I did do the 20 miler. And, honestly? That went great.
But, last Monday we had a ninety-degree day...and I ran a 13 miler, and by running, I mean whimpered and cried and crawled wondering who replaced my hips and knees with a ninety year old man's. I think I finished it on Thursday. It was hell.

Then, I ran a seven miler tonight. Not good.

It looks like it's going to be miles of the old man shuffle again. Gee, I hope someone has a camera.

Busy at work, busy at home, busy running, too busy to roam.

2007-09-20T22:52:00.000-05:00

Again, I've fallen off the blog wagon.

I've been working on a new book. It's very different from my first, but I'm really excited about it. I hope that I do the concept justice.

Also, work has become super busy again, and Brendan and I have been training for the marathon which is in a few weeks...October 7. Our friend, Danny, from Boston...my old roommate whom I haven't seen in...God, forever...he's running it too, so I'm excited for that.

Last weekend we ran our 20 miler. That is a REALLY long run, I have to say. I wasn't nearly as sore afterward as I remember being last year, but I have a nasty raspberry about the size of a half-dollar under my arm where I didn't "lube up" with the body glide. It is VERY attractive. It started to peel yesterday, and what is great about that is I have a wedding this weekend and will be wearing a dress that will likely highlight the scab and have other guests shying away on the dance floor to steer clear of the leper. LOVELY.

As attractive as I'm making it sound, I have to say, I think everyone should run a marathon. I know people say they can't run, and they think they can't run...but it's really not true. It's 100% a mental thing. Once you start, and you increase your distance beyond 3 miles, you really can run forever. And, when the weather is nice, and you get in your rhythm, you really don't feel like you're running at all. But, no one who doesn't run regularly, ever discovers this. And, I'll tell you why. Because the first two miles...and sometimes three...always Suck. Always. It's the worst part of the run, whether you are running three or twenty-three. But, no one ever believes me.

Seriously, I challenge you to train to run a 10 miler, or a half-marathon. You would be shocked.

I think ANYONE can run. I do not have a runner's body. In fact, I am actually a terrible runner. I'm slow, I run all hunched over and my legs never look toned, or particularly graceful. My race photos always show a cute blonde girl right next to me who just put on makeup, and me, drippy, grimacing, hair sticking to my neck and cheeks. Oh, and even at my skinniest, I always have a wet double chin, and look like I have rolls where the elastic on my shorts cuts in. Rather than a gazelle, I tend to look like a limping chubby Sasquatch. That's okay, though...we've determined that Brendan looks like a Tyrannosaurus, so neither of us is going to end up on the cover of Runner's World.

What else? Oh, Brendan signed up for Ironman Wisconsin again. (For next year.) This year (the year he didn't do it) was 70 degrees, no humidity, sun shining...perfect. Last year was 52 degrees and rainy. Next year? I expect the 98 degree heat wave. The only thing that I'm excited about there is it means we'll be going up to Madison a fair amount. I heart Madison. It is such a great town.

And they have the best grilled cheese in the world at Barriques Market. In 98 degree weather, what else would you eat? Tell them I sent you.

It's a twister! It's a twister!

2007-09-17T17:03:00.000-05:00

What are you doing right now? Oh, me? I'm sitting in my bathtub with my dogs, a cellphone, and a laptop.

No, there's no water in it.

Seems there was a tornado spotted not too far away from here, and headed this way, and then the outside got green, and then it got black...and then, I thought I heard a train.

Keep in mind, I live a block from the El, so that sometimes happens, but since I could barely see across the street, I thought it might be wise to wrangle the rooners (That's pupparooner, as in, pups, as in...oh, God. I'm That dog owner. I used to mock people like me.) into the bathtub before I started seeing ladies on bicycles and cows floating by.

The worst part is, it's a tad inconvenient, and I have no idea how long I'm supposed to wait for stuff like this. The thunder is nuts, so something is still going on, but I'm getting ready to go on vacation, and I was trying to get some serious projects done. Unfortunately, that's going to have to be on the backburner for now, as my current priority is getting my legs to stop falling asleep in this fetal position with two dogs and cold porcelain surrounding me.

Perhaps this will keep me entertained...

UPDATE: The tornado warning is over. Everything is fine. Nothing to worry about...except my feet are completely asleep.

Love the creative writing of the new Spammers

2007-08-23T07:34:00.000-05:00

I've noticed a growing trend among the dirty spam I get at work. (I have a webmaster e-mail, so I get EVERYTHING.)

The subject lines are getting more and more creative, and random. They have to get creative because they have to constantly come up with new words for...well...for lack of a better term, wang.

What is so great, though, about the newly bizarre subject lines is I'm sure people forward them to their friends because they are hilarious and weird. And then the spammers get their friends' info too.

For example, here is the subject on one that I got today:
"My boyfriend's putz keeps slipping out." It was all I could do not to forward it on...so I thought I would discuss it here.

Putz? That is wonderful. And what a great sentence structure. You could pretty much put anything in there. "pencil, ice cream sandwich, Eiffel Tower, gooblygobbly, tink-tank"...and you still get the meaning. Bravo. Keep em coming.

Er, so to speak.

August 22 already? Good God.

2007-08-22T08:11:00.000-05:00

Now I know why senior citizens pop out of bed at 5 in the morning. I think it's fear that if they don't, they will wake up and it will be three years later.

I can't believe how fast the last couple of weeks have gone, and it stinks! I'm not ready for it to start getting dark again. It just got light!

Much has been afoot lately, but not much that really captures the interest. I opened a new savings account and finally sent in paperwork for my 401(k) IRA thingamajob. It required two sets of papers, four months of searching for the first set that I lost, a healthy dose of procrastination trying to find an envelope, endless and increasingly irritated e-mails and phone messages from my 401k company, two out-of-date stamps and my husband's forged signature...with his permission, of course.

We are trying to get a tiny deck built onto our tiny place in Michigan, but we've been dealing with a "FIP tax" that includes a markup of about 60%. Not joking. (They see the IL license plate, and basically add on a healthy gratuity.) $6000 for an 8x8 deck! So, I finally thought to use my brain, and asked my parents who live 30 minutes away, to recommend someone and discovered from one guy who attended our wedding...Oh! We ARE getting ripped off??? Do tell!

Other than that...it's pretty boring...which is why I haven't been writing. For example, here's my day today.

6AM, alarm goes off, 6:10, 6:20, 6:30 hit snooze. 6:40 Brendan puts a pillow over my face and I make the wise decision to stop hitting snooze and decide perhaps it's time to get up. 7:30, try to figure out how it took me 45 minutes to get ready when I had everything ready and showered last night. 7:40 write check for cleaning lady, feed/water/walk dogs. 7:50 Carry bike downstairs, and load it along with two bags of workout gear onto car 8 AM: Holy crap am I late. 8:10, really need something to eat. It won't hurt to stop. 8:40 get to work, thank god zero traffic today b/c everyone on vacation. Work work work. 9am: Debate about coffee. Need to drink water due to exercise schedule and noon run, coffee is not a good idea, will dehydrate me and make workout painful. 9:45am: Pour myself some coffee. 10am: Get refill. 12noon: Go for 4 mile run at gym, avoiding eye contact with personal trainer I have been dodging for months now. 12:30, decide to make it a 2.5 mile run, shower, back to work. Work, work, workety work. 4pm: People realize I'm on vacation next week, and not physically in the office until after Labor Day, so they start giving me projects. 5pm on dot: must leave in order to make class at 6pm in city. 6-8: Oh, my good Lord, what have I done to my legs with this bicycle class that I thought would be a good bonding experience with my husband? My rear end can't take it. It's like sitting on a square brick in your underwear for 2 hours...not to mention I'm pedaling like mad and I haven't eaten since that gel I choked down after work. Feel like might die. Hope, in fact. 8:30pm: Pick up dinner and just shake arm for salt. 9pm: Watch some sort of Tivo'd junk while I try to finish formatting pages of novel, and re-over-thinking a lot of cheesy sentences. 11pm: Make my legs move to go upstairs and shower. 11:30 Collapse.

See? Nothing in there too terribly interesting to write about.

Although, I do have to tell you about Alinea. Oh, also, there is this awesome Romance writing contest that you can sign up to view and judge. They start voting next week (Aug 27, I believe.) (Unfortunately, I can't enter b/c my book's a little longer than the regulated max length.) But, it could make for some fun reading. (I got a sneak peek at some submissions yesterday and, well, let's just say some of the character names are FAN-tastic.) [Phyllistine, anyone?] I can also guarantee at least one pirate and an earl. I mean, come on, that is just completely awesome.

(You can start sneaking a peek here. See what I mean?)

Interesting fact.

2007-08-21T07:43:00.000-05:00

I just learned today that the White of Strunk & White's Elements of Style, is in fact, E.B. White of Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little!

I had no idea! This is, very likely, the little bit of trivia I have been searching for to throw into a conversation, jauntily, which will eventually come to bore the bejesus out of my friends. "Oh, God, that again?"

Commuting, New and Improved with more Stank.

2007-08-01T18:12:00.000-05:00

Alright, so you know how I love that it takes me ninety minutes to drive 20 miles to work, right?

I just feel that we, as humans, don't spend nearly enough time in our cars. If I could go just a little slower, I would perhaps take up knitting as I drive, or try calligraphy.

There is a bonus to this forced sentence, though, and that is you can take time out to smell the roses...well, not roses, but there are other scents.

First, one of the best things about Chicago, in general, is that it smells like chocolate...like baking brownies, specifically. Blommer's chocolate factory's fresh choco-laden winds blow over the river, across every bridge, blustering down every street corner at times. And, I for one, can't get enough of it. Even on the days when it smells a little burned, it is so much preferable to the burning ash from A. Finkl, or mystery chemicals from the tannery, or the dead smelt from the river. That's right, I said smelt. That's not a past tense, by the way.

But on the way out to the western suburbs on 290, you also pass the Kreamo Bakery with the buttery soft goodness of baking bread pulled into your car. What we need is a marshmallow factory in between for the s'mores effect.

When you get a few more miles out, there is also a lovely citrus smell that wafts over you as you pass by the first Oak Park exit...which I initially thought was a Necco wafer plant until Brendan pointed out that Necco stands for New England Confectionary Company-O something. Hmmm...I'm also pretty sure it's not an orange grove. Which now has me wondering what I AM smelling. Is it a Lysol plant? Maybe I shouldn't breathe so deep next time. But, even that...that's not what's got my nostrils flaring.

Now there's a new smell in town. A not so fresh smell.

As if the commute wasn't long enough, or unpleasant enough, a gigantic garbage dump (the Hillside Landfill) is broken (I didn't know that was possible) and rotting garbage almost as old as I am has become exposed to the winds. So, right when traffic slows to a complete halt, and the sun is pounding down on you, and all you want to do is get home, you get treated to this olfactory pleasure.

Here's what it is like. Imagine taking your garbage for two months, then putting all of it into your car, and then rolling up the windows, leaving it there all day cooking in 95 degree heat, and then climbing in and driving home. Add some dirty diapers to that, and that's how bad it is.

Someone in this article compared it to "worse than dead bodies" and frankly, they seemed to have had some experience with dead bodies.

Here's more:
27 year old garbage
More odors as they drill
Not closing until 2008?

Perhaps that Necco/Lysol plant can get over there and spray or something, because right now? Ew.

This just in...according to Forbes, my commute is #7 in terms of air quality. Dead body smell beats diesel fumes any day of the week. I demand a recount.

Hunchback from Notre Dame

2007-07-25T11:30:00.000-05:00

We've been having such a great summer, so much fun. It's been absolutely perfect here almost every day, and when it's not perfect, we've been at work, so that's fantastic.

Last week I got out to Boston to visit my friend Laurie and her son Caleb, who is (well, they both are) so smart and adorable and he is getting so big! I have to send pictures. I also got to see Jenn Buhl, Ed, their daughter Caroline and son, Ned, and then I saw Diane, Erin, Erin's baby, Casey, and then Kelle and Maura whom I haven't seen in a way too ridiculous length of time. (My wedding??) It was much too short a visit, but lots and lots of fun.

Last week, I even got back on my bike for the first time in two years, and managed to ride it through the city--although very cautiously much to Brendan's impatience and chagrin.

(I had an incident my first time riding in shoes that clip into your pedals where I skidded out in the rain, toward a turning SUV that didn't see me and I couldn't get my feet out, and it came about a foot from running over my head--before someone else screamed at them to stop...and since then I just haven't been all too keen on the city streets of Chicago...or with these shoe/clip things.)

I've gotten new shoes/clips since then and ridden since, just not on the streets, mainly bike paths...and not terribly confidently. I know you have to get back on the horse, and I did...but it's not as easy as it sounds when you don't trust the equipment or yourself. I can handle being a klutz, and the bruises, skinned chins, broken knees, pinched fingers that go along with it. I'm used to those, and I don't walk or run so fast that I'm really going to do any major damage usually. But going 20 miles an hour into (or across) cement isn't my idea of a good time.

I definitely envy Brendan's coordination. I hope if we have a kid he/she gets that gene because I definitely am missing that little gift. And I envy his confidence in his ability to control the bike. My problem is, I don't like pain, falling, breaking bones, or a combination therein.

Anyway, we rode Sunday for a bit...and I think I'm starting to sort of get my bike legs, and we're taking this class tonight for bike training, basically. I'm taking it as cross-training for the marathon. You're in this room on your bike hooked up to a computer, and you ride these courses, virtually. The computer makes it harder or easier depending on the terrain. (To give you an idea of our athletic range, they have this test the first day to figure out your capabilities. Brendan finished first, I finished last. There are 19 people in the class. There you have it. But, proud to say, I didn't throw up, which is good.)

Mainly I signed up because I haven't seen Brendan all summer with all his running and cycling around, and at least here I'll get to spend some quality, sweaty, hunched over a bike time next to him. Unfortunately, here's the kicker...

Yesterday when I was running I felt like my shoulders were really tense...like I was stressed out. (Only I didn't think I was stressed about anything.) And when I went to bed last night, they were really stiff, but again, didn't think anything of it. Well, this morning...oh my God. Ouch. It's like a pinched nerve or something.

Why does your body seize up like that sometimes? I can't turn my head, which is helpful for driving/changing lanes, and when I had to put my bike on top of the car this morning, I briefly thought I was going to pass out and panicked that if I did the bike would fall on me from a six foot height, which has to hurt worse than a neck pinch, right? Thankfully, I did not find out. And, when I got to work my friend, Sal upon seeing me, immediately found me a bottle of Aleve. God bless him.

I am now sort of back to my normal color, and no longer the super-beyotch-in-pain I was when I got in this morning, but....Lord, this is really owie.

If I didn't have the long-standing theory that chiropractors lull you into their office with a free consultation only to "crack your back" so you have to keep going back...I would totally go to one. Anything.

So, tonight, I'm supposed to go to this two hour bike class. And you know they're just going to think I'm being a wuss and yell at me to push it. As if all that weren't enough, to add injury to injury, I now have a Fergie song stuck in my head.

Now I know how Brett Favre got hooked on pain meds.

Wicked Lovely.

2007-07-10T19:34:00.000-05:00

No, I'm not talking about me, even though I am heading to Boston this weekend to see my girls, which should be wicked awesome with jimmies on top.

I just read this book called Wicked Lovely. It's a modern-day fairy tale...faery-tale technically, I guess, and although I've never been too much into fantasy, magic, witches, fairies, etc...it's really beautifully written, and definitely my favorite book so far this summer. Most interesting, anyway.

I ran across it when I was researching agents.

The author is Melissa Marr, and you can find it here, if you're interested.

Loved it.

Car fixed.

2007-07-06T19:12:00.000-05:00

Knock on wood. So far so good.

It's a 6th of July miracle. The third alternator worked and it only took a week. Can I get an Amen?

Car Wars-- The sands of Alternator

2007-07-06T08:04:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, as we were coming back from where Brendan had to pick up a race packet for the triathlon he was doing in my hometown, our car started driving funny. It definitely was due for an oil change, but it wasn't shifting right, and it wasn't running smooth, and just when we got to a gas station to pick up beverages, it crapped out and wouldn't restart. I got blamed, as I had left my iPod plugged in overnight. I was having a hard time believing that my teeny iPod drained our car battery in a few short hours. But, Brendan being the electrical engineer, was 100% sure of it.

Luckily we were a few blocks from my parents' so they came and gave us a jump start and we high-fived and went on our way thinking the crisis averted. But, a few blocks past their house the other way, our car died again.

My dad jumped it again, and this time we let the battery refresh for a long enough time to get us the few miles we would need to get to the Sears auto center. On the way, Brendan hits the brakes, and smoke starts pouring out of our back wheels...not joking...so I become completely sure that our car is on fire right below the gas tank, and we are obviously going to explode. We didn't. (It turned out that it was just that the emergency brake got locked onto the wheel because it's seven years old and rusty, and we never use it since we're flatlanders.)

Have I mentioned we're in Michigan, and it's Saturday at like four, so no place is going to have time to fix it? And it's God country, so no one works on Sunday--except Sears. (Not that this reflects on Sears' evilness...but, if the horns fit.) So, they give me the estimate, and tried to charge us $499 for an alternator.

Brendan shrugged and said, "Well, I guess it's that much then." But, see, that was just for the part. That's a total load. I've had to deal with alternator issues before and, while it was more than a few years ago and a different car, it was only $180. But, the problem is...we're desperate. This isn't the time to shop around. None of the car rental places are open. By none, I mean...none of the just one car rental places within a 50 mile radius are open, so we have to get to South Bend (45 minutes away) if we want to rent a car. Which is a pain.

I don't get it. You have to drive to get anywhere around here, so your car breaks down, it's like the world ends, but there's no rental place, and no one to fix it, no taxis, and no public transportation. Can I get a what, what?

What do you do if your parents aren't just down the road? Move into Sears?

So I'm talking to the Sears guy, trying to figure out if he knows he's ripping me off, and he tells me part of the part charge is because they have to have someone drive the part in from Detroit on a Sunday. (For $499, I picture it riding in the back of an air-conditioned stretch limo sipping on a tiny bottle of Cristal.) Anyway, they finally get it, and by the late afternoon they put it in and guess what? It doesn't work! The part is bad. At this point it's five o'clock on a Sunday, and we have to work back in Chicago the next day.

Sucktacular. So we have to take the train home to Chicago...because at this point there's no way they can get another part by the next day.

So here's what happened next:
Sunday, on way to train, 5PM: We order a backup alternator from an autoparts store that says they can get it the next day...AND can deliver it to Sears. For a lot less money. Perfect!
Monday, 1PM: We call to get the part, but the autoparts store doesn't have the part, and wouldn't have the part until Thursday at the earliest because they are big fat liars.
Monday, 2PM: We have Sears order a second alternator, realizing we should have just had them do that anyway on Sunday, but they think they can get Tuesday and put in Wednesday.
Tuesday, 5PM: Part has still not come in and mechanic going home at 5:30.
Wednesday, 1PM: Sears calls to let us know that the new part arrived.
Wednesday, 5PM: Sears calls to let us know that the new part has been put in, but this one doesn't work either. Where are you ordering these parts from? SuperCrappyAlternators.com?
Wednesday, 5PM: Call to check on status of autoparts store alternator. Now they don't think it'll get there until Friday. Well, they are batting a thousand.
Thursday, 11AM: Sears says they won't get the THIRD part until Friday.
Friday, 9AM: Sears thinks they may get part today and if they do (AND IT WORKS???) it'll be ready today.

Sure.

The worst part is, we have had to pay for a rental car now, and that place closes tomorrow at noon, so if it doesn't get fixed, we are completely screwed because guess what? We are in the freaking boondocks.

And, even if we just decided to just say screw it and buy a new car because it's getting to that point in time anyway, we can't even get our car to the dealer to trade it in because our alternator is sitting in a baggie in my mom's back porch. Why, you ask? Because apparently they have something called a Core charge, which is what they charge you if you don't give them your old part. It's totally lame.

I also want to say this. Dear Infiniti, I am also mad at you. I loved this car, and want to buy another one...but you did away with my car, and have created nothing to replace it. And now you just keep building these way-too-expensive boring sedans that all look the same to me. I don't want to drive an old lady grandma sedan. I don't wear skorts and visors and drink tea at the Country Club. At least not yet. Can't you create something in between menopause and puberty, like something styled for starting a family that isn't a huge gas guzzler? Maybe put your thinking caps on. And if you could do a hybrid, that would be great too. Actually, if you could make the FX35 a hybrid and bring the price down, (and get rid of any need for an alternator in the future) I would marry you.

Things that should be outlawed/enforced.

2007-06-30T08:22:00.000-05:00

1) People who ride their bikes AGAINST traffic. I am going to add here, people who ride their bikes without a helmet, don't know that they are not a car, have their iPods blaring so they can't hear you, and then blow through red lights when you have a green causing you to almost make them into a pancake. (And not the good blueberry kind.) Oh, and, hey tattooed bike messenger...you're basically invisible due to the fact that you carry 42 lbs on a six foot frame. Since your bike is fatter than you, and B.O. doesn't actually emit a cloud of color, it makes it semi-difficult to view you weaving in and out of traffic at 900 miles an hour in a side mirror that is not the size of the one on the Hubble Telescope.

2) Pit bulls. Look, I know everyone wants to save them. I get that. But you know that whole theory about there are no bad dogs, just bad dog owners? I don't buy it. No one ever got killed by a Pomeranian, unless they were maybe licked to death. And even if that were true, guess where the majority of dog owners lie? Think of it this way. Imagine I was walking my pet crocodile down the street...people might not be all that thrilled to see its enormous people-eating, child-mauling head coming their way. "But, he's such a sweetheart! Here's a live goat, Chompy. Aren't you so cute?" I'm just saying, if you own one...be aware that I don't like jogging by it, and I don't think it's cute when you let it walk ten feet in front of you.

3) Dog owners who use extend-a-leashes. This is the all time worst invention ever. First of all, if you own one, sorry, but you're probably a moron. It's almost without fail, that the people who use these leashes are exactly the people who shouldn't use these leashes. The entire purpose of a leash is to control your dog. We live in a city. A city with tight sidewalks. Letting Spot run twenty feet ahead of you on a thin invisible wire that has no end in sight is not only inconsiderate, but downright irresponsible...to the dog, to other dogs on real leashes who can't get away from your dog, and to every single person around you. If you have one, and you live in the city, please throw it out. You don't know how to use it. Trust me.

4) People who ride their bikes down the wrong side of the street being pulled by their pit bull on an extend-a-leash. You know who you are.

5) Construction workers who use pneumatic air guns to nail shit together at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday. I would like to pneumatically nail gun you.

6) People who think it's okay to pull up into the middle of an intersection even though they have a stale green light and all cars in front of them are at a stand still. If there is no room for your gigantor Hummer to comfortably rest on the other side of the light, don't go. If you go, and you sit there and block the intersection, you deserve to have something aimed at you. My choice would be the previously confiscated pneumatic nail gun.

7) People who drive Hummers and throw wrappers out of their car windows. I mean, REALLY? Is there a contest I don't know about?

8) Cab drivers who hold up their finger and shush you when you are trying to give them directions because they are so engrossed in their cell phone conversation...and then take a wrong turn and don't apologize or turn off the meter. These guys are ten times chattier than thirteen year old girls, twice as surly, and not nearly as good at driving. Perhaps I should start tipping in lipgloss and Hello Kitty pencil cases.

9) People who turn the bass up in their cars so loud that your car (four cars over from theirs) vibrates like a Shiatsu massage chair.

10) Abandoned houses (particularly when they are next to mine) boarded up for over half a decade, and no one doing a damn thing about it.

Moldy lemonade.

2007-06-28T08:02:00.000-05:00

I think I just drank some.
But the sad thing is, I may get another glass.

Gym, not so dandy.

2007-06-27T18:55:00.000-05:00

I just want to start out by saying that normally, I love my gym. It's $25 a month...no contracts. It's clean. There's only a very small percentage of veiny, waxed men wearing World Wrestling belts and cut off Ts grunting their way to bigger bulges...so that is a perk.

It's also close to work, so 2-3 times a week, esp. during the winter, I can go at lunch, get it over with, find out what's happening on the soaps, and still fit into my sweatpants. It's really an excellent relationship.

But, a few months ago, as I'm walking out of the gym having a heated debate in my head between Wendy's vs. McDonald's, I get talked into one of those "free" personal training sessions with the head trainer guy. So I schedule it, am duly impressed, and after the session (with zero blood in my brain and the inability to ambulate) the guy "persuades" me to spend $540 on, like, 8 sessions, which is not all that great a deal. (In case, unlike me, you're any good at math.) But he's "giving me a great deal." Jedi mind trick? I'll take it!

Okay, so after I sign the paperwork, literally with hand shaking from low blood sugar and near tears from being the biggest sucker in the world, he tells me that he can't be the one who trains me, so he'll probably hand me off to one of his other guys. Hello, Master Bait-and-Switch, didn't see you there.

I'm, truth be told, pretty annoyed to have been burned twice in one transaction. But, I decide to make the best of it, and my new guy is super cool, and even though I actually CAN still walk when I leave a session with him, and I'm not all that sure he's really watching for how I'm positioning myself when I'm doing weird exercises, he's fine.

So I run out of pre-paid sessions, and the urge to be guilt-tripped into buying more kicks in. So I ask him, today, if I can do 1/2 hour sessions instead of hour-long ones, and he's fine with it, but we have to ask Master Bait-and-Switch, the keymaster to the training deals.

Well, so, Master BS goes right into how if we're going to do this "special" favor for me, I have to order twice as many sessions and how if I sign this in-triplicate paper that says they can charge my credit card for $1000 over the next three months, then I can do it. And then he shoves it over to me.

I explain that I have to check with my purse-strap controlling husband (even though I am the tightwad who won't ever let us buy anything) and I can't just sign it all willy-nilly.

He's like, "Listen, I won't do anything. Just sign it, and then call me if you can do it, and I'll put it in."

Sure. Let me just sign this legally binding contract that says that I have to pay you a huge sum of money, and authorize you to use my credit card to do so...and I'll trust that you that you won't do anything with it.

He pulls the oldest trick in the book and puts me in the uncomfortable situation (after he's offered me this 'I'm your best friend, shhhh, sweet just-for-you deal') of having to either sign the paper or question his integrity.

So, I say that, even though I trust him (RIGHT), I can't be sure it's not going to end up in the wrong hands (HIS) and end up with $1000 coming out of my account (OOPS!).

I leave it that I'm going to go back and sign it tonight if my mean tightwad husband (ME) will let me. But, it left such a bad taste in my mouth, I'm not sure if I ever want to go back. I hate stuff like that!

Look, I'm a sucker. Fine. I'm totally willing to spend money! I'm totally willing to pay large amounts of cash for the attention of a personal trainer even though I haven't lost a single pound or had anyone look twice at my diet or fat% since the first day when I wrote the first check.

But, now I'm supposed to sign in blood for 30 training sessions? Give me a freaking break, dude. Grrr. If I all this fake weight training was working and I was a little stronger, I would break him in two.

I haven't had this much rejection since trying to find a date for an SYR.

2007-06-23T08:17:00.000-05:00

SYR, for those of you who didn't go to Notre Dame, or a college where the male-female interaction was designed, monitored and maintained by priests and nuns... SYR used to stand for Screw Your Roommate. It was a dance, like prom in college, and pretty much the only time boys and girls interacted outside of class. (The priests/nuns eventually discovered these lurid activities and promptly abolished them a la Footloose.)

The idea, hence the name, was that you were supposed to find your roommate a date for the dance, and vice versa, but it never actually worked out that way. You always had to find your own, or at least I did.

As you can imagine, if you've ever met anyone from Notre Dame, it was an extremely demoralizing process, particularly if you didn't wear a bow in your hair at all times. My friends would ask the skinny beanpole with the dirty ponytail and acne that they'd drunkenly tongued at some bar, or they'd ask the fat guy from their psychology class that they'd drunkenly tongued at some bar, and I would find myself genuinely envious, flipping through the dogbook, wondering how it was that I hadn't seen them first.

That was a lonely experience, and I'm starting to feel that same level of 'why doesn't anyone like me/I'm never going to have a boyfriend' from the rejections I'm getting from agents, and while I do know that that is par for the course, and only have SOME delusions of grandeur, what's frustrating is I just can't tell why I'm getting rejected.

Like Notre Dame, I don't know if it's them or me...and without knowing, I can't fix it. Is it the query letter or my fat thighs? Is the MSG they are sprinkling into the meatloaf to take away our sex drives and bulk up the girls and football team the problem? Or did they simply read an article today that said authors with names like Heather won't sell? Or does my writing just suck?

I spent four years trying to fix myself at Notre Dame, only to get out and realize it didn't have all that much to do with me.

So who the hell knows? It's a gigantic crap shoot. And, by the way, the slush pile? Sister, please. I haven't gotten whiff of slush or pile. No one has seen anything. Just my weak-ass query letter. And honestly? It could be the best letter ever and perfect, but clearly SOMETHING is not working and I don't know what it is. Maybe my query got a bad perm right before first semester, or maybe my book is a little too fat. Maybe if I knew what it was, and fixed the problem everyone would call me up and ask me out...I mean, you know, ask my book out.

And the whole process is confusing. If you read a book about this or go online, or read the agent blogs, they all say pretty much the same thing. You need to write a kick-ass query letter. And, they want you to write it in the same voice as your book. I have no idea if it's the same voice as my book. I think it's really more of a baritone.

And now I'm reading articles on how no one reads fiction. Hells no!

First of all, I read fiction. It's pretty much all I read because everything else I have to read for work and for life reads like the instruction manual for an air conditioner, except not as funny.

Second of all, some of the fiction I read is total and absolute crap, where I throw it in a can trying not to gag about two minutes into it. My question is, if someone can get away with writing a story where they refer to their main character as a "half-breed" (Not being funny here. Everyone in the book refers to the main character as a half-breed and it's set in 2007) how is it that they are not only getting published, but their novel is one of the four options at the Long Beach Airport? In other words, THEY wrote a better query than me? What the hell am I doing wrong?

So, I guess I have no idea how to write a query. If you would like to help me...here are a few of the guidelines...

They don't want you to say you're a first time author, because no one wants one of those. My question is, how many published authors who already have agents are writing letters trying to get an agent?

They don't want you to write a book over 80,000 words. Mine's 127,000 and while I can probably shave copy somewhere...I can't shave 40,000 words and have the story make sense. Is my market really people who can't get through a 220 page book? It's not War and Peace! It's an easy-to-read beach book that should be immediately sand-covered and coated in cocoa butter.

They also want you to tell them what genre you are in so they can pitch it to the right people. And, honestly, I don't know. I totally get why they need this...but I really can't figure out the genres.

Why? Why can't I figure it out? Because my book doesn't perfectly fit into one category. Here. Maybe you can help me figure that out, too.

Here's what I know about my book:

It happens in modern day (Modern day is defined as post WWII--and when it's way inappropriate to refer to people as half-breeds.)
There aren't any vampires in it.
Or werewolves.
Or sorcerers.
Or people who want to have sex with vampires, werewolves, or sorcerers.
There is a love story in it. (But, apparently disappointingly, it's between humans.)
A man and a woman. Gross.

(I really don't mean to pass judgement, but who the hell is getting off buying books about having sex with Werewolves?)

Back to genre picking:

Okay, so then there's literary fiction. Literary fiction is where you concentrate on the writing, and things cannot end well. Why? Because if they end well, you wouldn't have that rewarding feeling of depression for days afterward and the Book Review would have no use for phrases like "melancholy genius" and "redolent anguish."

Then there's commercial fiction. This is basically man fiction...Tom Clancy, John Grisham, Scott Turow...see the pattern? Mine has a woman in it who doesn't wear orange pantyhose or have a job at the pentagon...so there goes that.

Then there's women's fiction. That is where a woman has a conflict with other family members, or friends, or life, and though there can be a love story, this isn't the focus. Also, this can be the umbrella for chick-lit. But, sometimes, people say that isn't the same thing--I mean, why be clear about it? Half my book qualifies here probably, as it focuses on a relationship between mother and daughter after the older woman suffered a nervous breakdown and is trying to find her way back.

Chick-lit. Even though this may be the best category for my book, chick-lit is apparently dead, so saying it is the best category is like tying my query to a tiny block of cement and tossing it into the East River. If I had to make a guess at why it died, it's because after the success of Bridget Jones and really wonderful dimensional stories by writers like Jennifer Weiner, publishers wanted a piece of the pie and started churning out generic pastel tree-wasters that were all in the first person and had plots that required at least two of the following: getting a pedicure, eating ice cream out of the carton, and shopping for Jimmy Choos. So, now authors of those books that were still in the hopper are being asked to rewrite them in the third person.

My book is in the third person already, for the record.

Anyway...moving on. Finally, there is the romance category. Part of my story has to do with a man-woman trying to reconcile their past, and guess what...they like each other. Weird.

Now, all/most of my friends, family, colleagues wrinkle their nose at this genre. And truth be told, I do too. Why? Because I'm a big fat snob and that's what you do...and also because I picture Fabio in a tub of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter and a kilt.

But, you know what? The romance people are seriously organized and it's a $2.4 BILLION dollar business. That's a B. So, their subgenres are easier to figure out with clearer guidelines than the genres above. They know what they are doing. They are the only category that extensively researches and surveys their markets, and they monitor what is working and what sells. Unfortunately, this leads to some hard and fast (hee hee) rules. Like word count is super strict. And there are formulas, which I didn't follow. And, you can't have any storylines that really take focus off the love story. Oops.

Personally, I think that's silly. That's like saying that you can't be smart AND pretty.

My biggest aversion to going this route, though, besides the academic nose wrinkle at a cocktail party, is ultimately the marketing/cover art. I'm sorry, I just don't want my name over the picture of some oiled and waxed half-naked man/werewolf. Particularly since the whole book is kind of a sweet story and doesn't involve the hounds of hell.

So, yeah.

I just want to find an awesome literary agent who sees potential, who can become my super awesome best friend, knows how to use email, and wants to represent me and make us both very very wealthy so we can go to Paris and buy diamonds. Is that really too much to ask?

It occurs to me that perhaps this A-list salon...

2007-06-22T19:30:00.000-05:00

...should maybe reconsider their screening practices for prospective employees.

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/322080302.html

Odd 24 hours.

2007-06-14T23:35:00.001-05:00

So...I got attacked by a cicada. Pooped on by a bird. And then I ran into my ex-boyfriend from 10 years ago at Brendan's work outing. (And I had huge sweaty armpits.)

Awesome. Isn't that just the way you plan it?

You had me at goodbye.

2007-06-01T22:14:00.000-05:00

In case you were wondering why I've been so remiss about my blog lately, I have a fairly decent reason. I have been trying to finish a book. (Writing, not reading.) And in just two days I've already been rejected thrice--twice from my one page query letter alone and once from someone who was nice enough to read my apparently non-captivating writing! Ah, publishing. You had me at goodbye.

Anyway, this little side project has taken me the last year of cobbled together time after work and on weekends, much to the chagrin of my poor husband whose passion for outdoor activities matches my passion for this indoor one. But, it's finally to a point where I'm shopping (apparently unsuccessfully) to agents. So, if you know of anyone...

My job at mrc, which is always challenging in and of itself...has also gotten busier, so I've been working longer hours.

In other words...this blog went by the wayside. Besides, what am I going to talk about, work? I suppose I could talk about the enormous amount of lint that the dryer repair guy pulled out of our machine the other day...but that's for another post. (If you thought bugs in our light fixture was bad, wait til you see this.)

Now, before you start dusting off your shelves for a picture of me with a Pulitzer...or waiting to see me on Oprah, don't hold your breath. You're much more likely to see me drying broken tears with the pages of a rejected manuscript. So, in the coming months, if you see a girl blowing her nose on a sheet of 8x10 with 12 pt Times New Roman font and the title and author name at the top of each page CAPITALIZED! left side justified with page numbers justified upper right...just look away. She's hideous.

Also, I wrote a fabulous blog post a while back, and something happened where it got deleted. It was something about cicadas, and the fact that I haven't seen a single one after weeks of "preparing" to see the ugly little buggers.

So you think you can dance

2007-05-31T02:12:00.000-05:00

Okay. This is what I wanted to write about.

Have you seen "So you think you can dance?" It's SO entertaining.

Watch this.

Strange Beauty Show

2007-04-19T19:42:00.000-05:00

I just got back from my new hair salon. It's literally a block from my house, and it's awesome.

First of all, I love love my new haircut and color. She actually did what I asked, which is a new experience!

Secondly, for a cut and color it was $90. Better than the $200 I spent at the last place I went only to find that my color was indeed the burgundy I had been very clear about wanting to avoid.

Thirdly, the cut AND color took (drum roll) an hour and a half. Not the FOUR AND A HALF hours it took at my last salon. I am not joking. An hour of which was spent with dripping wet hair waiting for my stylist to finish dying someone else's hair at a rate of 1 hair per minute.

Fourthly, if that's a word, it was the most relaxed salon atmosphere. It's tiny, and it feels like you are a teenager again and you're hanging out in your friend's bedroom with records playing, and they're styling your hair. (If your friend is actually a professional stylist. Think Jessica Simpson/Ken Paves)

They also show art on the walls, and I found a piece I may be purchasing if I can convince Brendan that two white rabbits staring at each other with a cartoon bubble over their head is art belonging in our home and not way off the charts weird.

Strange Beauty Show

Love it.

Spring is officially here. You know how I know?

2007-04-19T12:00:00.000-05:00

Bunny's back!

The Landlord

2007-04-18T11:50:00.000-05:00

If you haven't seen this video yet...it truly is a fantastic demonstration of parenting.

Legs, pale and reticent, welcome back.

2007-04-17T18:01:00.000-05:00

I wore a spring dress today and new spring shoes, that I was inspired to purchase as the last of the snow became dirty water.. And, I suddenly realize that I've forgotten what my legs look like.

Always a little pale and veiny, I also notice that in the flattering fluorescent light of my office, another word to describe them might be flocculent. I either missed a few spots around my knee...or it's the weakness of one small razor on a winter's worth of unnoticed growth. Yikes, or should I say, Baa.

Ringtones, blizzards, and other April treats.

2007-04-11T23:06:00.000-05:00

It's a blizzard outside, but, you know what? Even I'm sick of my bellyaching. So what? It's going to be nice soon. I know it is. I can just feel it in my bones. So, snow...whatever. Who cares that it took two hours to get to work this morning?

What I want to talk about is my awesome new cell phone. I got the Samsung Stripe. I secretly really wanted the Orange PEBL, but I draw the line at paying $200 for a phone. Isn't it totally cute, though?)

Anyway, my old phone was a free phone that was three years old and had a battery life of five seconds. It would also secretly turn itself off on occasion, which was a great feature, especially when you are completely oblivious to this secret power and no one can reach you for hours on end.

I do sometimes ponder how I survived college and all of my adult single life without a cell phone, or how Brendan and I would ever decide what we should do for dinner if the mobile hadn't been invented. No joke? I think we might starve.

However, I only have one problem with my new phone (outside of the fact that I can't hear my own voice when I'm talking into it, so I yell.)

The problem is...the ring tone. It only came with one, and it's not the one I've been trained to respond to.

Like Pavlov's doggies, I am now trained to respond to the T-mobile theme song (from the commercials)...mainly because I didn't see the point in "investing" in ringtones when my phone could only play songs created on a 1983 Casio.

But, the nice thing was, I knew it was mine. I could be asleep upstairs with my cell phone ringing downstairs, and I would wake up out of the deepest coma and hear it. (The only hazard was when the commercials would come on and I would lunge for my purse.)

But, this stupid fancy phone came with some sort of T-mobile remix that sort of involves the old tone, but it is souped up ala Timbaland or something It's NOT the same. So I decided to try to download the original. But I can't!

So I decided to make the best of it, and download a fancy ringtone that has words. So I paid $2.49 for Mims' "This is why I'm hot." which I thought was funny for ten seconds...until I realized that it goes off at about 300 decibels in places like...the grocery store...or say, a funeral luncheon. And, yes, it does have amazing sound quality, and you really can hear the words.

I need a new ringtone.

Oh God. I'm one of those people who talks about the weather.

2007-04-03T21:44:00.000-05:00

It's quite sad. Sorry. I am happy to report, however, that Spring has sprung. There are buds on the trees, and last weekend was gorgeous. And today is 70 degrees.

Of course, as of tomorrow we go back to Winter for at least another week (as in twenty degree lows)...but as that is still way better than ten degree highs. I'll take it!

I also saw a few movies last week that I would like to review.
1) The Holiday with Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet.

Not good. I know. You're probably shocked. But, I have a pathological LOVE for chick-flicks, so, it is almost offensive to me that they managed to make this movie as wholly uninteresting as they did. And even more offensive to me that Nancy Meyers has a successful career as a writer and director.

(Can you really give yourself a writing credit on "The Parent Trap" when it's a remake? Doesn't that seem wrong?) The best part about her movies are her sets. I think she should consider Interior Design, personally.

"Something's Gotta Give" I can only assume was referring to my ear drums after the twenty minute wailing siren of feel-sorry-for-myself-in-my-mansion-in-Hamptons screeching.

She continues her assault on our senses (and sensibilities) with "The Holiday." I think it's up there in terms of Cannonball Run 2 in terms of quality cinema, and as far as Romantic "Comedy", whatev. I wasn't even mildly amused once...though Jack Black did his darndest. It was this droning hit-you-over-the-head pontificating on love to start the whole thing off...followed by the requisite whiny crying...and symbols that were intended (I think) to be metaphors were shoved down our throats.

I mean, come on, Nanc. Don't be afraid of subtlety. Don't try to dumb it down. Just relax. Be yourself. It won't end up in an art house, I promise.

The only thing I CAN say for the movie is Jude Law. He is completely fantastic and yummy (and I don't even particularly like Jude Law). And, the sets are absolutely gorgeous. So, my recommendation is find a good editing house, and see if they can put together a Jude Law reel.

What concerns me even more greatly are these exaggerated screaming/stomping/wailing scenes required of some actresses that have pretty great track records in terms of talent. If that's how you she think women express themselves when they are upset, you might want to take a Prozac. Most of us just quietly weep. And, for the record, most of us also have a brain in our head. We don't need you to draw two stick figures on a piece of paper and smash them together. We're not monkeys. We get it.

Okay...Movie Review #2:

Step Up.

Loved it. Surprised by that? You shouldn't be. I'm pretty easy. That's why it's important to note the review above. Okay, so it's not big on plot. It doesn't need to be. The dancing really is just that good. I would watch it again in a heartbeat. It makes you really wish you hadn't given up ballet/breakdancing. And the guy holds himself parallel to the ground on one arm for two seconds, which is really impressive when you see it.

Bought cheap paper last night for my printer

2007-03-21T18:30:00.000-05:00

It said paper could be used with "ink-jets, and laster printers."

I do know there's no direct correlation, but it makes me feel like I should somehow expect more typos this time around.

Best mood!

2007-03-14T00:35:00.000-05:00

I am so happy right now. It has been beautiful the last two days, and even though it's supposed to drop into the forties by this afternoon...I don't care! I so needed this slight reprieve. And what a reprieve it was.

I didn't wear a jacket to work today! It's so liberating. Yesterday I wore a dress and I felt naked. (And also like a girl, which was nice.) I had to put lotion on my legs so I didn't leave a trail of dry skin cells like bread crumbs into my office. Unfortunately that left me smelling like bubble gum all day because I'd gotten conned into buying the lotion at the gym during a low point when I was unable to fend off their overzealous product pushes. At least I didn't buy a vat of creatine.

Then I went for a run last night and it was in the low seventies, and I overdressed and got seriously overheated. Overheated! Yay!

I was so inspired by my fitness that I bought one of those fitness balls that you can sit on to do sit-ups, etc. You know, the ones where 3 sit-ups on the ball equals 500 sit-ups normally?

Sadly, though, I was only able to blow the ball up halfway because my bubble-gum legs got tired using the air pump.

Well, at least my ideas are marketable...

2007-03-07T22:51:00.000-06:00

So, after working for a year on the roughest of rough drafts of a first novel...although novel sounds more like literature than it is...I was really looking forward to tearing into a fresh rewrite on the plane out East this weekend.

Then, at lunch today, I had the delightful opportunity to watch a 15 second clip of a new TV series that is coming out, that seemed to sum up most of my main plot...and even included some of my (apparently unoriginal) lines.

I'm pretty stoked about it.

The worst part? I think it's a mid-season replacement series. It's not even worthy of the crap they put out every year in September.

On the bright side, I had a decent idea for a screenplay today. I'd tell you what it's about, but I'm sure I'll probably just see it in the theaters in a few weeks.

"Only Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday."

2007-03-07T22:18:00.000-06:00

So I woke up this morning, and I officially cannot take winter anymore. I'm done.

My house is dirty and cluttered. It's not that I can't clean it. (Although finding the energy lately has been difficult.) It's that it doesn't matter if I clean it because the minute I do, more stuff piles up...and by stuff I mean, coats, hats, gloves, boots, the pile of wool sweaters by the door for convenient wearing, blankets piled haphazardly all over the couch.

The snow-mud streaks are unavoidable, along with the newspaper that was poached in its plastic bag before we could get to it, the green jar of dog-safe ice-melting pellets, the wet mail that is all stuck together, and addressed to the wrong houses b/c our mailman either can't read, or just wants to get out of the freaking cold and shoves envelopes haphazardly into our box.

And forget fresh air. Fresh air is what you get when you open the door for two seconds and let in arctic temperatures...so you just sit there breathing in your own dry stinky germy breath and wondering if you open a window how long it will take you to get hypothermia.

When I woke up this morning, late of course because I can't get out of bed because it is gray, depressing, and icy out...I of course had to scrape another inch of ice and snow off the car...again. AGAIN, I tell you. Enough already with the 'tween' temperatures and the constant overcast. I am starting to relate to Jack Torrance. Where are those weird twins?

How much freaking snow has to fall before this winter can be done? I mean, it's not even good snow! It's that useless feather light snow that serves no purpose, except making fake movie snow look real.

I desperately need a vacation. I shall express my current daydream in haiku.

Toes dig ocean's edge.
Sunburn clings to white cotton
Hot sand happiness

Here's another:

Lobster club sandwich
I dream of eating you on
white Delano chaise

SAD and the frozen pipe blues.

2007-03-01T22:13:00.000-06:00

I've been remiss in my postings of late, but I have a good excuse. Sort of. I've been doing some writing on the side in my "free" time at night and on weekends, trying to write this book that is unlikely to find itself in the annals of American literature, and might be just above fire kindling...but between that and work, I haven't had a lot of time for the minutiae of daily life that crops up. And believe me, not much is terribly exciting.

Mainly, this time of year for me usually manifests itself in general by "Just trying to get through," and Februrary might have been the worst winter month we've had in years. It has been bitter cold, (under freezing for three weeks straight, and most of it in the single digits). They told us we had windchills of -30 degrees.

And you know what's scary? I got used to it! I walked out last week and it was 28 degrees out, and I thought, wow, it's warming up. 28 degrees. (Not celsius.)

I also think I may have a mild case of Seasonal Affective Disorder (or SAD) although, in my case, I think I may actually carry most of these symptoms year-round.

Here they are, in case you are wondering about your own symptoms:
A change in appetite, especially a craving for sweet or starchy foods....check.
Weight gain...(probably due to sweet or starchy foods)...check.
A heavy feeling in the arms or legs....seems redundant with the weight gain., but check.
A drop in energy level...and inability to write blog....check.
Fatigue....zzzzzz.
A tendency to oversleep....Again, fatigue/tendency to oversleep seems to go hand in hand...who made this list?
Irritability...check.
Increased sensitivity to social rejection...okay, um, I have no idea what this has to do with anything, but sure...
Difficulty concentrating....What was I saying, oh...yes, check.
Avoidance of social situations...Yes. Although I do feel better when I am among my peeps.

So, yeah...Spring can't come fast enough. Not to mention the fact that we've had two cases of frozen pipes requiring separate plumbing visits...AND...another plumbing visit to fix a leak we didn't know we had, but discovered b/c we have to leave the water running at all times to keep lines from freezing. And plumbers? The aren't cheap.

Plus, one of the plumbers "solved" our problem in Michigan by suggesting we buy a bale of straw and put it in front of our crawlspace to insulate it from the wind. While this probably will work just fine, and we're going out there this weekend to see if they've "installed" the hay bale, it doesn' really give you a whole lot of confidence in the overall picture that this is the only solution anyone can come up with.

Snow = Ouch + Scary Blizzard(s)

2007-01-29T08:20:00.000-06:00

Had a big Michigan adventure this weekend. Brendan and our friend Jen and I all drove out to New Buffalo, and then onward about an hour or so east and north of there to a "ski" resort. Those of you who have ever seen a mountain, would probably laugh for a good long time at me freaking out about it.

However, having been an ungraceful flatlander my entire life, and being deathly afraid of heights (think escalators), not particularly liking cold or snow, and never having been on skis or a snowboard...this was definitely unnatural.

I bought my first pair of snowpants and skijacket ($22 down from $160!) and we all got a private lesson with the fetching (albeit) 22 year old Tex. Then it was onto the slopes. Um...I should start by saying. I didn't understand the lesson, except the falling bit. I learned how to fall REALLY well. Brendan and Jennifer both did very well. Brendan had it down about fifteen minutes into it. I'm jealous. And, Jen definitely got the hang of it faster, although had a couple of pretty hard falls that I'm sure she is feeling today.

I was particularly terrible at getting off the ski lift where they expected you to be able to actually snowboard down a four foot embankment without running into the people standing five feet away. High hopes, sad reality. I solved the running-into-people-issue by gracefully eating it in new and delightfully uncoordinated ways about two feet off the lift each and every time.

And, I also have to say that I am now currently in more pain than I was after the marathon AND the broken kneecap combined. I've been eating advil like skittles, and last night when I tried to roll over when I was sleeping, the pain woke me up and the...we'll call them "muscles"... in my shoulder and arms were so tight that I was only able to move in tiny fractional increments until I finally found myself in a sort of non-excruciating position.

That said...I would totally go again. It was fun.

What wasn't fun was the drive home. Getting to this area of Michigan means driving on two lane rural highways the entire time. It was dark when we left, and it started out fine, but about halfway there, we hit a genuine, oh-my-god-this-is-a-blizzard, blizzard. It was a full-fledged white out, and there are absolutely no streetlights on these roads to help give definition to the road ahead of you, nor is there consistent traffic enough to leave you snow tracks, so basically we couldn't see ten feet in front of the car. Hazards flashing, we had no choice but to keep going at about five miles an hour.

The only time you knew you were still on the road was from sporadic reflective signs and when other cars were coming toward you, because their headlights helped you see. It was very very scary. The problem is, you can't just stop. You have no idea where you are, and there aren't any houses nearby or even roads to pull off into. And if you pull onto the shoulder, someone might not see you and could clobber you. So, basically, I spent the entire time watching the shoulder just to make sure that we weren't veering off. It was the worst in all my years of driving in the snow in MI that I have ever experienced.

The weather reports had said no snow was supposed to happen until eleven o'clock at night. Unfortunately, Nature, she is her own woman.

But, Brendan did an excellent wonderful exceptional job of driving, and when we finally got about fifteen miles from home, it cleared up and there was no snow at all at our house in New Buffalo. So weird. It was like we imagined it.

Then, the next day we woke up, and snow HAD hit New Buffalo, so we looked on the radar to see where the snow was falling, and it was coming down in a straight line all the way down the lake through a strip of our drive through Indiana, but we figured if we stayed on the highway, we would be fine. And at least it was daytime.

No. We got on the highway, and first of all, it wasn't plowed. At all. Then, we get about twenty minutes into it, and guess what. ANOTHER whiteout. Even in the daytime. There was this semi truck, that we were following, and all of the sudden about twenty feet in front of us, it disappeared into the white. We couldn't see it. I mean, it was there, but you had no idea where. We went about five miles an hour, but you have no idea what's ahead of you. And neither do the people behind you. And again, there's nothing you can do but just go slow and try to stave off a full-fledged anxiety attack. Getting off at that point would have been more dangerous b/c you couldn't see the ramps.

As we started to come out of it, it was beautiful in its own way, but it just looked positively apocalyptic. The sun came out, and the snow was being blown across the highway. It looked like how you might picture a nuclear fallout to look. Eerie, silver and wild.

There were some accidents apparently on the other side of the highway, but thankfully no fatalities or even serious injuries from all reports. Everyone was going slow and using their brains (outside of being stupid enough to get stuck in it in the first place.)

So, I just wish to express my thanks to all of our guardian angels, and my wonderful talented husband... and now I am off to find some more advil and nurse this newly developed traffic ulcer.

They call me sweetness, I like to dance.

2007-01-22T07:29:00.000-06:00

So, the Bears are in the Superbowl! Yay!
People in Chicago are very excited. In fact, pretty much no one can believe it. We all just kind of sat around staring at each other after the game, not sure if that actually just happened.

So, anyhoo...to celebrate, here's a little sampling of the Superbowl Shuffle. Or...this one. Um...and no way...seriously?
I gotta say...um...I heart You Tube. There's this one.

Or the awesome original. Watch 45 dance. Rock on. I got to go get on my shuffling shoes.

Oh, my little sassy gassy car. Please be okay.

2007-01-10T08:10:00.000-06:00

Well, our beautiful little car may be dying. We're not sure yet. She's in the icc (intensive car care) right now.

She's got 95,000 miles on her, and the heart of a lion within. She's been through a lot...but it was probably her first 100 miles that were the toughest. I dumped lemonade into the console and carpet the first twenty minutes I had her (and quickly learned the difference between a random circular indented design feature and a cup holder.) This gave her a lovely perfume of moldy lemonade/new leather and a sticky shifter that I would sometimes need two hands to move from Park to Drive. Only days later a bum broke her window to steal a Mariah Carey CD that would only play one song because it was so scratched up, the Les Miz soundtrack, and a handful of pennies.

But despite this ominous beginning, and my godawful taste in music, she's become a real city slicker. She's been bumped by drivers trying to pull out of parking spaces so many times (their SUVs ramming while they talk on the phone) that the back doors are sometimes a struggle to open and close. She was rear ended by a ginormous Suburban last year without so much as a dent. She's endured the inevitable gouges to her bumper, and some jerk who decided to bend her license plate up into a right angle.

And what has she given me? Loaves and fishes miracle gas mileage that exceeded all expectations, an excellent sun roof to enjoy balmy days, and a happy comfortable place in which to endure hours of droning travel.

Most recently she has been the home to many a bike shoe, helmet, newspaper, triathlon flyer, running shoes, coats, hats, umbrellas, folding chairs, bike wheels, camelbaks, crushed cliff bars, warm gatorade and gels.

But she's been slowly in decline. Last month, after about four months of the most annoying sound in the world emanating when you used them, our windshield wipers stopped working. I had mentioned the sound on multiple trips to the City mechanic who instead of checking it out properly told us our windshield was probably just dirty. (Very thorough.) And then they just stopped working, which really isn't good in a Chicago winter. So we took it in to the Burbs mechanic. $360. Apparently the mechanism was rusted out--which was what was making the noise. (Although, God, worth every penny now that that sound is gone.)

Anyway, on top of that, for the past few weeks (okay, months) she really hasn't been herself. She's begun falling asleep at stoplights. And, when you try to wake her up in the morning, she's incredibly sluggish. It's gotten to the point where you have to turn her off and then on again in order to give her the power to just keep going. Last week I took her into the City mechanic again and paid $120 for a "diagnostic" and they recognized a problem beyond a need for a car wash, so we at least started strong...

Only they couldn't figure out what was causing the problem (the important part of diagnosing, if you ask me) and cut me a deal to only charge me $80 for their ongoing incompetence. So, I called the dealership and made an appointment but, before I could get her in, yesterday she wouldn't start at all. Just a hiccup and a wheeze...maybe a fart, but I pretended not to hear. I thought maybe a cat had crawled into the manifold and was frantically pounding on the hood.

I tried to make arrangements for her, and before leaving for the train I decided to give her one more try. She suddenly turned over, so I got her out the Burbs mechanic, hoping they could work their magic twice. But now even they aren't entirely sure what's wrong with her.

They say it could be an $85 fix. It could be an $800 fix, maybe more. And I really have no idea if I am getting hosed. (Hell, she's probably missing a Johnson rod.)

Brendan and I are trying to figure out at what point it makes sense to get a new car, or continue to fix these $3-400 problems each month.

So, anyway...after seeing "Who killed the electric car?" which I am now semi-obsessed with and highly recommend everyone seeing, we really want to get a plug-in hybrid as our next car. But they aren't going to be available on mass market for another couple of years, I don't think. So, keep your fingers crossed that my little blue baby makes it (and that it's $85.) I know that is probably too much to ask, but...really, how much can a Johnson rod/car wash be?

Get a pen handy...you might need the instructions.

2006-12-27T17:19:00.000-06:00

Okay, this is hilarious if you haven't already seen it. It's the Justin Timberlake Andy Samburg video from SNL. That is JT on the right.

I will warn you, it's catchy so don't blame me if you find yourself singing it at remarkably inconvenient times, like say, church. Just mouth the words "thank you."

And, if you haven't seen this one yet...mr. pibb and red vines equals crazy delicious.

Feliz Navidad everyone!!

2006-12-21T10:01:00.000-06:00

So, I've been pretty lame lately on the old blog. It's not that I haven't had anything to write about. Au contraire, mon frere. It's just that my most ridiculous story, I am unable to post. Let's just say, the story "kicks ass" and if you haven't heard it yet, write me directly. So...back to the business at hand.

I thought I'd tell you about a dream I had last night. I dreamed that I went to the loo at a restaurant, and lo and behold, but who should walk in after me? Lindsey Lohan!

She wanted to take a picture of me standing with her friend who I guess was some sort of Paris Hilton figure with poofy white hair like a poodle. I don't know. But every time she took a picture of us, my left eye would close...so she'd have to take another one.

All I could think was, if Nicole Richie can strike a pose in a mug shot, why am I unable to keep my freaking eye open when I'm standing in a bathroom stall???

Finally I gave up and left. But I am so mad at myself that I had my chance, and I never asked her where she got those shoes!

Where was my head?!

Ahh...it's good to be back.

Celebrity runs in the family.

2006-11-15T18:39:00.000-06:00

Apparently we're not the only stars in the family.

Try to pick out my little sister Meghan. (Hint: there's a boat involved.)

http://www.ewertphoto.com/studio_portrait/

Heather and Brendan's 15 minutes of fame (apiece)

2006-11-10T15:20:00.000-06:00

Here's our big TV debut!

Lance, can we talk, marathoner to marathoner?

2006-11-07T09:36:00.000-06:00

You should get lots of rest and make sure you take your vitamin C. One in seven marathoners will get a cold during the first two weeks after the marathon. And guess, what...sometimes you're lucky enough to get two. Like me!

And when that happens...your blog gets prett-y boring. I haven't had anything to talk about the last week except how NyQuil is my favorite coughing, sneezing, stuffyhead, fever, so you can rest medicine. (And though the NyQuil had expired in 2004, and probably had no real effect...at 2 a.m. I would have taken laudanum circa 1850 if I'd had any on hand.)

Okay, so I have to say, my favorite part about Lance running the marathon is when he said that the marathon is the toughest thing he ever did. Really?

I also really love that he started complaining at mile 10 (mile 23, for me, thankyouverymuch) and then he whined about his pain afterward almost as much as I did after the race....maybe even more!

It's almost like we are the same person...except I didn't have Heather on my race number...and I ran it in twice the time...and he was being paced by Olympians...but otherwise, you have to admit the likeness really is uncanny.

Now, I suppose I'll have to go sip champagne while riding my bike on the Champs Elysee and making out with Matthew McConaughey.

I'm alive and kicking and a marathoner!

2006-10-23T09:09:00.000-05:00

Okay, alive and not so much kicking but slowly raising my leg in the direction of a kick. Ow. Ow. Ow.

But I did it! I should say we did it. Jennifer Fry and I. She definitely got me moving when I really couldn't move anymore. They're not kidding about the last few miles hurting! And not just hurting a little bit, but a real lot. Like, you are running and you are in major pain, but it's to the point where you know if you stop it will hurt so much worse trying to get started again...that kind of pain.

I think some of it was because it was so cold. When I stopped to stretch like I did in my training runs (in the hot sweaty SUMMER) the icy winter wind would blow through my pants and my muscles would tighten up, even while I was stretching them, so it was really hard to get going again once you stopped.

Justin's bringing Sexy back. I am bringing the Old Man Shuffle back. (I'm in the blue. Fry is in the pink.)

I did fare better than the two winners of the race who both had to be wheeled off at the end. The male winner put his hands up to show victory as he crossed the line, and he slipped on the logo they had on the ground, and cracked his head open and had a brain hemmorhage. And the women's winner bent over and puked, which they managed to catch every second of.

The weather held up, though. It was not rainy, or snowy, which had been the prediction. It was quite cold and windy, and the last mile into the wind tunnel was a cruel joke from the heavens...but we managed to do it in under 5 hours, which was our goal. 4:59:23. We cut it a little close.

The Chicago marathon is so cool. So many people are out there cheering you on! You get to see so many neat neighborhoods that you might not otherwise see. It's a really great race. I recommend it to anyone who wants to do a marathon...and it's flat. It's flatter than any of the long training runs I did.

One more thing I will add, that I really have a new appreciation for. There were points in that run where I kept moving only because I wanted to get to the next point where I would see Brendan, or my friend Amy, or my parents, or my sister, or Jen's parents and friend Gail. It made all the difference in the world having people there for us, and got me through the next mile after I saw them. Normally at races, it's not such a big deal. A 5k, 10k, the short triathlons, they are so quick, and it's just me against my legs so not a big deal. But, the marathon is such a mental race. I really needed our cheering sections yesterday, so thank you so much for coming out!

And, next time I have a friend doing one, I am definitely going out there to Mile 23. Mile 23 just plain sucks. It is WAY too far from mile 26 to even be included. Personally, I think they should cut it out completely.

What have I gotten myself into?

2006-10-21T21:55:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is the big marathon! And I totally can't believe I'm about to do this. What if I don't finish? I'll be the laughingstock of Gately villa! Just kidding. (Sort of.)

But I just want to thank everyone for all your well wishes and support...it means the world, and it will hopefully keep me going when the going gets tough. And thank you for all of your donations! I was able to raise over $1300 for Best Buddies so thank you so much for your generosity!

For those of you who are going to be out there in the elements cheering people on, I'm going to be wearing a black cap, a light blue jacket or a bright red long sleeve shirt with my name on the front (depending on the temp) and black capris. Oh. And cute Mizuno running shoes. They're pink!

Feel free to high five.

Rain rain everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

2006-10-19T08:20:00.000-05:00

I feel like it hasn't stopped raining in months. We've had tornados, thunderstorms, and then your everyday torrential downpour. And when it's not raining it's cloudy, depressing, and about to rain.

I probably wouldn't care, except the last few warm days of fall were gray and mildewy, I have had to train consistently in waterfalls, and we need to get the roof fixed at the Michigan house because there is a leak that allows water to pour into our bedroom onto our bed whenever it rains.

It started out that it wasn't even really noticeable unless there was a ridiculous amount of rain, but because I have had all these roofers up there poking around estimating on jobs they will never apparently do, they seem to have actually exposed the "problem" area, so now every time it so much as mists, the pan we have on our bed fills up.

We literally have a pan on our bed.

Then, I had the embarrassment of asking the same guy to come out to estimate twice. Have you ever done this? You totally feel like a jerk.

And, of course, it's the one guy I really didn't like the first time. He showed up to estimate the roofing job in a three piece suit, and didn't even sort of come close to getting up to look at it (like every other roofer), I had to basically tell him what the problem was, at which point he said, "I think what your problem is, is..." and repeated what I had just said.

It only served to get worse when he stepped in an enormous pile of dog poop screeching like a little girl, basically accusing me of not cleaning up after our dogs as he scuffed and scuffed the bottom of his shoes in the grass in front.

First of all, it wasn't our dogs' poop (it was a present from our neighbors' roaming great dane...the same neighbors who like to light off M-80s two feet from our home under a canopy of trees) but he didn't believe me. Have you seen our dogs? They're like squirrels. It would take them a month to make that if I was feeding them nothing but McDonald's.

Second of all, his bids were completely outrageous. Over twice what we are paying. The second time, his estimate was about $200 lower, but still way off. (And I suspect he may have been trying to charge us for new shoes the first time.)

I think we have finally found a roofer now, but they can't fix it for weeks...Why, you ask? Because it won't stop raining. Aargh.

House of Cards

2006-10-17T07:41:00.000-05:00

As a Chicago sports fan, and an ND fan, the sports seasons bring one consistent truth: If there is even a shred of hope...it will be taken from me at some point, generally in a cruel manner, right around the time I really start to think there's a chance. I ask, "Could they really could be that good?" and get my answer. No. And it happens every single year. (You Boston fans used to know what I'm talking about.)

It's a missed pass interference call by the blind ref. Or their QB's fumble that suddenly becomes a TD. Or some stupid kid in a green sweatshirt with earphones on. It doesn't matter who I end up blaming it on...every season, I watch, tense, sick to my stomach, eyes covered, screaming at the TV, knuckles bloody from knocking on wood at the announcers' stupid jinxing comments...and then boom. Crushing disappointment... again...and a throbbing in my head that I'm sure must be a tumor.

So when the Bears were losing to the Cardinals last night, it felt like...well...almost like an old friend. I mean, this is Chicago, and someone said they were "the team to beat." So why wouldn't they play like some third-string practice team from Crapsville Middle School?

But then the Bears started to randomly come back, from freak plays, fumbles, punt returns. And that's when I went into shock. What happened??? It doesn't matter. I don't care. I don't care that they did it by the hairs on their chinny chin chin, it was awesome!

I do feel bad for Matt Leinart, the Cardinals' QB. I mean, he played his little heart out, he had a great game, and I can't imagine how he must feel. Oh...hmmm...wait a second.

Go Bears!

Dog bite doctor...just one degree from Oprah.

2006-10-12T00:11:00.000-05:00

Okay, so most of you know the story of how I took in the two stray dogs a couple years ago and ended up with a house full of diarrhea (not mine) and bitten.

Broken skin. Dog bite. Stray dog.

So the animal control people made me call the cops, and I ended up in the ER...and I must say, when I came back I had rave reviews about Northwestern Hospital and how Hot...uh...I mean...great, the doctors were.

There was this random good looking young doctor there who held my hand and kept stroking it making sure that I could feel things. But, I had two doctors, and despite my attempts to pay attention to the other kind of trolly one (because he was trying to tell me I didn't have rabies) I was really paying attention to the very compelling hand massage guy who was just very concerned with me...I mean, my hand.

Anyway, I just flipped on the Oprah, and it seems that this same Dr. McHotovich is now her resident ER expert. Very random.

HGTV episode airing tonight! Finally!

2006-10-10T20:31:00.000-05:00

Our Designed to Sell episode airs tonight. It aired at 7pm Central/8pm Eastern, and it's going to be on again later tonight at 11pm Central and 12 midnight Eastern.

Keith Flanagan, Cara, JT and Becky, Sarah Walker, and Justin Moran made it on camera, so look for them at the end!

And, watch for the "industrial eyesore" comment. Ouch!

There's no crying in baseball, and other life lessons.

2006-10-07T19:21:00.000-05:00

As we sit here, Brendan is watching his beloved Dodgers get run over by the Mets in the first inning. And none too happy about it. He's locked himself in the other room, and is weeping quietly.

OK, not really. But, he did ask why there was a salty discharge coming from his eyes, and ran to the bathroom to see.

I feel bad that my blogs have been so slow and boring lately. But, as they reflect my life...well...

Anyway, today I had to do a 12 mile run, and let me tell you...I was NOT in the mood. AT ALL. I think that people who don't do these things just assume that you are doing them because it's easy for you, or you like it. Those people would be wrong.

Sometimes you'd rather be dipped in honey and laid on a pile of fire ants. At least you'd be lying down. Sometimes it is just plain sucktastic. But, it's about getting to the goal, so you gotta push through. And then have a beer and a little whine on your blog.

I also have become suddenly addicted to myspace, so I've been spending time there. Is it impossible to actually design? I'm a freaking Web designer and I can't figure it out.

Anyway, my good friend Tom, the founder, did share this video with me last week, which is one of the most random things I've ever seen.

The other exciting moment in my life this week, was I wrote to the author Jennifer Weiner on myspace, and she actually wrote me back a personal email and was very encouraging. If you're not familiar with her, she is the author of In Her Shoes, which was made into a movie with Cameron Diaz, Toni Collette, Shirley Maclaine...but she also wrote Little Earthquakes, which is just a beautifully written book.

Additionally, she also wrote this great article that I think is the most helpful to new writers trying to get published that I've ever come across.

So go support her!

33, 75, 20, 10/2.

2006-10-02T09:52:00.000-05:00

Today is Brendan's birthday! He is 33.

He's asked me not to make a big deal about it. So, we're not. But, if you want to give him a call and wish him a happy day, feel free. But NOT because it's his birthday...because that would be wrong.

Despite his rapidly approaching golden years, yesterday the old man picked up and rode his bike 75 miles. It was his first athletic endeavor since the IM race. Pretty impressive, if you ask me. I'll bet his legs hurt today, though.

I know mine do! I had my 20 mile run yesterday. 20.1, actually, but I don't want to brag. (Yes I totally do.) It is the longest that I have to do during my training. I am thrilled to have it done with...but I must say, if I had to run 20 miles I couldn't have picked a better day. The weather was just about as beautiful for a run as you could ask. The opposite of my 18 miler last week when I decided to head out ten minutes before a monsoon blew in.

But, despite gorgeous conditions, somehow the inside of my upper arms have the worst chafing ever, even though I took all of the normal precautions to prevent it.

So, as a result, I'm walking around today like a weightlifter, hoping I don't sweat AT all because...sweat + deodorant + chafing = me curled in a fetal position in the bathroom with washcloths shoved under my arms.

Only Uta Pippig's Boston Marathon finish brought more glamour to this glorious sport.

Part 2: Ironman the movie

2006-09-15T12:39:00.000-05:00

Check this out.

It's a little blurry because it's been compressed so much. I'm going to play around and see if I can re-do the compression, but here it is in the meantime.

Brendan's Ironman Photos> Part 1

2006-09-13T10:23:00.000-05:00

Okay, these are the pretty terrible photos that I took.

There's some cool video and some other great photos...including the smiliest Brendan photo that I have ever seen...but I have to get some of them scanned so you'll have to stay tuned.

Here's part 1, though. Click on the photo below to get started.

From Brendan's Iro...

And after you see these pictures you'll understand this. I really want to thank Pat and Jack for coming in from California. I know that was a long trip, and you're not used to our Midwest chilly monsoons, and you were real troopers!

I also particularly want to thank Amy, Jen and Meghan for coming out. It's one thing to go out to support your friend for a few hours, or see them at the start or finish, which is awesome in and of itself. But to drive three hours, rent a hotel room, get up at the crack of dawn, and then stand out there in horrible weather conditions for 12 hours, freezing to support him...that's a different sort of thing altogether, and it really really means a lot to both of us.

Brendan did it!

2006-09-10T19:32:00.000-05:00

And looked great doing it despite some VERY rainy and cold conditions...stay tuned for awesome action photos.

Apparently in Madison for this time of year the average temperature is in the mid-seventies. Which is great. Except last year it was 97 degrees and this year it was 52...which apparently is where they get their average of mid-seventies!

It's almost here! Brendan's Ironman is tomorrow!

2006-09-09T18:12:00.000-05:00

Look at that smile.

Cross your fingers that the pictures from tomorrow are as smiley.

Gooooooo....Gately!

See...this is why "do-it-yourself" hair color is a bad idea.

2006-08-31T17:17:00.000-05:00

Note the lovely brunette ears Josie is sporting.

She doesn't normally have brown ears...

...unless she rolls her little head in poop.

High school reunion

2006-08-29T09:35:00.000-05:00

Went to my 15 year high school reunion over the weekend. It was fun. Definitely not entirely what I expected, but it was good to see everyone, and I must say people looked weirdly younger than I expected. I felt like they were all pretty well-preserved.

Even this one particularly mean girl who had the makings of (fingers-crossed at the time) a huge ass when she got older, seems to be staying on top of it. Good for her.

It was really great to see my old friends, and I hope to stay in touch with many of them. That said, I think the most telling part of the night, and the one that probably sums up my high school experience as a whole was when one of my old cheerleading pals said, "Oh my God. I didn't recognize you. You're actually cute now."

Um, thanks. And hey, maybe I would be even cuter if you hadn't ducked and let me take a basketball to the face.

dead bird.

2006-08-28T20:05:00.000-05:00

rainy days and mondays

2006-08-28T14:20:00.000-05:00

So, I had a pretty terrible start to my day today. Aside from the fact that it is gray, pouring rain, and miserable outside...and the fact that it took almost 2 hours to get into work this morning...

When I was walking Napoleon and Josie back from their morning walk, I found this baby bird that was lying on the ground, twitching and fluttering, that hadn't been there two minutes before. It was just barely fluttering and struggling in this complete torrential downpour.

I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't just leave it there like that. So I went back to the house to find some sort of box or protective something. I ended up finding the perfect thing. This weird box from a lamp I got from ikea that looks like a birdhouse. It has two circles cut out of it on either side, so the bird could get out if it wanted (or was able) but still would be taken out of the rain.

So I put on my gloves put a little towel in there, and went back out there, and then the bird wasn't moving.

But then I really didn't know what to do because--was it dead? It's not like I'm a vet. I have no idea. Maybe it's just unconscious or in a little birdie coma. So I put--what is more than likely a dead bird--into this box, covered the top in plastic, and put it outside in back on top of our table covered by an umbrella and weighted with dog food.

The worst thing is, I'm sure it's probably dead. But, how depressing, because I stood there watching it struggle there, not knowing what to do before I ran home to get the box, and it had just happened. I know you probably think I'm crazy, and it's just a bird. But, I felt like it was wrong not to do something. But I couldn't really do anything. Just not a good way to start the week.

Unfortunately, when I get home, I'll probably have to deal with a dead bird.

Marathon Groveling--Please Please pay me to run.

2006-08-24T22:23:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, I signed up to do this crazy race, the Chicago Marathon. It's my first, and it's on October 22. I decided to do it in part to help raise money for a very special organization, Best Buddies International.

Best Buddies International is an organization that pairs developmentally and intellectually disabled individuals with mentors and peers to allow them to allow them to develop one-on-one friendships, and also create mentorships to encourage them in their strides toward a satsifying work life, and creation and execution of long-term career goals.

I have committed to raise $850, but my goal is to donate $2000 to this organization. Please help me by donating if you can, even if it's just a few dollars. It all adds up!

If you'd like to support another way, you can also visit my "merchandising" site. I've created T-shirts to help support your athletes, friends, in their athletic endeavors, and even a couple for Brendan specifically. All profits from the sale of these items also go toward this cause:

Here's my donation site»

Here's the merchandising site»

I'd appreciate any help you can give me on this, even just to wish me luck! Having never run longer than a 10k race before, this will be an increasing challenge in the months to come, but one that I hope to meet head on, having been strengthened by all of you. My best buddies.

Hope this finds you well.

Love,

Heather

Have you seen the new Web site of the Week?

2006-08-15T23:49:00.000-05:00

Can we get a ban the standing Ovation?

2006-08-15T23:10:00.000-05:00

We went to see the Floyd Landis thing.

I thought it would be a train wreck, but it was a lot more fun and funny than I thought it would be, even though no one asked anything about the doping scandal, and Brendan and I got peer-pressured into a standing O.

As a side note--I hate the standing ovation. When I was in high school, the standing ovation happened all the time, but I think that's to be expected because the audience is entirely made up of your friends and family. (And also we, like, totally deserved them.)

But, now the standing ovation has become this completely awkward social exchange. And, it seems like for every sub-par professional performance I see, an eighth of the audience feels they deserve a standing ovation...and then another eighth are the easily-led. Then you're stuck with this awkward 1/4 of the audience who has to stare at the ass of the person in front of them...so they stand up. And then the rest of us...who really think the performance wasn't worthy of this kind of accolade...feel the pressure to stand...because if you don't, it's like you're making a political statement that they absolutely DO NOT deserve a standing ovation.

In the case of Floyd Landis, without the doping scandal, he absolutely served the standing ovation. But, you can't just sit there and pretend that isn't going on...and the only evidence at this point is saying he cheated. So, applause fine...but come on.

I still really want to believe that he's getting framed or some such thing. That some bitter french man poured some of his extra testorone into his pee cup while twisting his handlebar mustache, and saying, "Savoir-faire eez everywhere!"

But, come on.

Training Time

2006-08-15T21:35:00.000-05:00

You probably don't want to hear how I ran 7 miles on Monday night and that Brendan ran 16...and our legs hurt (his hurt more--about twice as much, I'd say). Brendan rode 100 miles last weekend! (He's really stealing my thunder with this Ironman thing.)

We've been traveling up to Madison the past few weekends so Brendan can test-ride/train on the actual course of the IMOO or Madison Ironman...but between my "reorganizing attempt" in the house, and his assumption that everything lives in the trunk, we forgot his helmet and shoes. Aargh. That might not seem like a big deal, but on 100 mile bike ride on an open road...kind of important...and expensive. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

So, while he was getting shoes and riding all over Wisconsin, I was sitting in the hotel lobby hoping to see Lance Armstrong (and possibly his BFFs) b/c the Trek Bike Sales Meeting/Conference was in our hotel. (Trek is a major sponsor of Team Discovery--which Lance is now part owner of or something.) But...nothing. No Matthew McConaguhey (I know that's misspelled, but geez dude, get an easier name) not even a George Hincapie. But lots of guys with shaved legs and heads. Kind of like that 1st Apple Computer commercial with the 1984 theme.

And then when we got back, after we picked him up from the kennel, apparently Napoleon puked a sea of vomit all over our drapes, the window sill, the floor...AND had diarrhea.

Thankfully I had already gone to work, so Brendan had to clean it up. Picture it. It's sort of funny when you imagine the swearing that must have been involved.

Seriously, this is the kind of stuff we've been up to.

Match.com...sort of.

2006-08-04T12:09:00.000-05:00

This was just forwarded to me by the fabulous Jennifer Fry.

Very funny.

http://www.settleforbrian.com

Okay. This is entertaining as well.

2006-08-03T15:41:00.000-05:00

At the very least it took some quality rehearsal time.

More evidence that people have just a tad too much time on their hands.

2006-08-02T14:50:00.000-05:00

Pipe Cleaner, so you think you can dance?

Stop cheating, dammit!

2006-07-28T12:45:00.000-05:00

Floyd Landis, I so want to believe you didn't do it. But, what are the chances?

I just spent the last three weeks of my life watching the Tour de France. Something I never would have done a few years ago. But, for anyone who has actually watched the tour in its entirety, and started to understand just how gnarly a sport it is, there is just nothing else like it.

And for those of you who didn't watch, and haven't turned on a TV or read a newspaper today, the winner, American Floyd Landis, tested positive for doping. Another doping scandal for cycling. Just what it needed.

I think my favorite method of cheating is the blood doping. Apparently, you take your blood out, harvest it for basically, red blood cells--then put it (or someone else's blood) back into yourself so you have more blood to carry oxygen, or some such weirdness?

Here's my question...At what point when you are in your hotel room putting bags of weird blood into your body...does your brain not go--um, wow...this is really f-ed up?

Barry Bonds, Ben Johnson, Mark McGwire, and now, apparently, Floyd Landis, don't you get that sick empty feeling in your stomach? The hollow victory of a win without merit? Don't you at least feel bad for the guy whose record you broke, or the person who came in second (when they should have been first) and were robbed of their moment because of you? You not only cheat, but you steal.

Watching Floyd Landis come back from this huge deficit to out-ride everyone else in the race was SO exciting.

I was thrilled he was an American. Proud. And, felt a protective ire when the sporting world was more focused on talking about Tiger crying after the British Open rather than headlining Floyd's unbelievable comeback and win. Truly unbelievable, it turns out.

There is no other word to describe how I feel but betrayed.

I am so disappointed, it actually aches in the chest...and I feel so naive. Yes it seemed superhuman--but, God, isn't that why we watch? The amazing things people are capable of when their backs are against the ropes? Triumph over adversity. Hope.

When I am racing, and I am in pain and my blood pressure spikes and my muscles are screaming, and I feel like I'm hitting the wall, I always think of people like Lance, and Floyd, and endurance guys who not only get through the pain, but excel...and then win...and that makes me dig a little deeper and get past it.

And it's not like they don't work, and train, and feel that pain. But, they also cheat in order, I guess, to make it pay off in the end.

I think I'm going to blood dope before my marathon. I'm having Brendan harvest his red blood cells right now. I mean, sure, I might grow a little chest hair, but, I may be able to shave a minute off my 11 minute mile. And wouldn't that be worth it?

Brendan's hours and hours of cycling finally pays off--for me.

2006-07-23T17:33:00.000-05:00

Brendan called me a few days ago, and asked me if I wanted to meet Floyd Landis in a couple of weeks because Floyd's coach, Robbie Ventura (okay, why do I know these things?) started Vision Quest which is this training program Brendan's been doing for the Ironman.

So, apparently before Floyd blew up in Stage 16, and had a massive unprecedented comeback in Stage 17--broken hip and all--Brendan got the opportunity to sign up and go meet him.

(I'm waiting for the fact that when you win things like the Tour de France, you have better things to do than go hock some buddies' training thing--like pose for the cover of Sports Illustrated, Wheaties boxes, hip surgery, and and make a lot of money with endorsements...so my guess is he'll divorce his wife, start dating Sheryl Crow, and cancel this appearance...but until then...)

Anyway, probably none of you thinks that this is cool...because he's not Lance Armstrong. But, I'm a little sick of Lance Armstrong b/c I sometimes think he's a little too close to talking about himself in the third person. I know he tries to be humble, but you can almost see his lips saying Lance, before he starts a sentence. And then the whole thing with hanging out with new BFFs Matthew McConaughey and Jake Gyllenhal--(THOSE names shockingly hard to spell). I'm just waiting for the wedding to Lindsey Lohan.

But he IS running the NYC marathon. So, I guess he's still my peeps.

But, anyway...I'm psyched to meet Floyd Landis and his new girlfriend, Sheryl...and that could maybe go a little ways to making up for the fact that HGTV has STILL not responded to tell me if we've been cancelled. Maybe the original tape just got lost when they sent our episode in for an Emmy.

Airfare to Ironman Wisconsin for those of you who can make it.

2006-07-14T23:18:00.000-05:00

Brendan's Ironman Wisconsin is only 7 weeks away. Here's what the Ironman is and how it started. (Note that the bike portion of the race alone was a two-day event originally.)

I know a few of you want to come out and support him in this totally crazy endeavor, I wanted to make you aware of one airline option that is relatively unknown outside of...well...the midwest.

Midwest Airlines, formerly Midwest Express, which I believe originally started as the private air fleet for Kimberly Clark...has some good deals to Madison. I found $216 RT from Boston and $270 RT from LAX and San Francisco.

The Ironman is September 10th, which is a Sunday, and if you want to see Brendan finish, you'll probably have to stay until Monday the 11th. But, if you are interested...now's the time to check it out.

Additionally, when I flew with them from Boston back in the day, it's like flying first class...and they did bake cookies in-flight that were heavenly. Here's their Web site: http://www.midwestairlines.com/MAWeb/aboutUs/aboutLanding.aspx