10 random stream-of-consciousness wants and wishes

1. I STILL want to de-clutter my house. I just don't have the time. But I notice that the busier I am, the more untidy and more cluttered my environment is but the more frustrated I become because I don't have time to waste looking for things.
2. I wish I knew where my brain cells went. I feel like my cerebrum has been lobotomized. I have almost no short term memory to speak of. I am always losing, misplacing, or forgetting things. (See #3)
3. I want to find my house/car keys. It's really bothering me. I have two sets and one of them I used on Monday during our driveway fireworks session to open my car and get my tripod out. Haven't seen them since. I'm kinda worried I left them on the grass or the driveway somewhere and some random person picked them up and plans to either steal my car or cart-off all the stuff in my house (if they can find any of it under the clutter.)
4. I wish I knew what died in my fridge. We've cleaned it out from top to bottom but still, every time we open that door, it smells like 4 month old chicken breasts. GAG.
5. I wish I could stop thinking about planning a vacation. Every inch of me is itching, except for the part of me that says: you can't afford it. (Note: this is usually the part of my brain that is wildly out-voted - possibly why I never actually "have" the money to go on vacation. Hey, maybe American Express lobotomized me for this exact reason!?)
6. I want to have time to take my 52-week pictures BEFORE they're due. I so want to be creative but the time just eludes me. This week's topic is "windows". Betcha there's some cool shots to be had Downtown. Not going to make it there, though, so maybe I have to clean the windows of my house grab my #1 prop - my daughter - as second-best idea.
7. I wish I could take away the troubles of a few of my friends right now.  Some people who I am very close to are going through a tough time - the kind of tough time where you're sort of at a loss to do anything to help them. If you're reading this and can think of anything, friends, just email or call, k?
8. I want a pool in my back yard. OK, I said it. It's too expensive, financially it doesn't fit in with my life plans, and realistically it's not going to happen for those reasons and more but I want it. I want it like a kid wants candy before bedtime. 
9. I want an assistant. A free one, of course. I could be so much more productive with someone to do all the little things, ya know? Anyone at a loose end and independently wealthy may apply by posting in comments with their email address. Thanks!
10. I want book 11 of the Sookie Stackhouse mysteries. I've just finished #10 and my friend has #11. I am so tempted to run over there and get it from her but I'm delaying the pleasure because it's the last one right now. Plus, in the meantime, I can actually FINALLY finish reading my e-book on setting up Memories by Michelle as a profitable business and brand for 2012, or watch one of my many photo tutorial DVDs at night instead. Oh, but what I really want is hot, vampire sex.

Game ON.

Cripes. What a 7 days it's been!

Since the last time I posted: Daisy turned two, went to her very first theme park and had her first day at pre-school; our new couch arrived; and I got the opportunity to cross yet another bucket-list item off.

Let me elaborate on the latter.

I'm grabbing my purse on Wednesday afternoon, getting ready to pick Daisy up from school for the very first time. I had butterflies in my tummy, Hubby was antsy, and both of us were a little groggy from an impromptu afternoon snooze on the new couch. (We took the day off - we don't slack like that on work days.)

My phone rang and I saw that it was my L.A. friend, E (of The Gurly Life fame). My first thought was: "Oh, how sweet, she called to see how Daisy was doing." So I picked up.

"Weeeeeeeeeeell..." she said, at length. "Remember that contest you told me to enter for a trip up the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu?"

"Uh, huh," I said, absentmindedly. My brain was on my kid waiting for me in the school yard, so I admit I wasn't 100% tuned in. Plus, it was an odd beginning to a conversation - like it started in the middle. So, I was thrown.

"Weeeeeeeell..." E said again, waiting for me to take the bait.

Slowly, the cogs in my mine turned and I tried to switch gears from Momma to friend. Which is when I stopped at my front door. "No way! You won!?"

"Way. I won! And you're coming with me!"

{GULP}

That's right, folks. My friend won a 4-day trek up the Inca Trail and I am to be her plus one!

Right about now you're thinking that I'm all kinds of lucky and am not going to deny this but let me pick out one word that should bring you up short, as it did me: TREK.

trek/trek/

Verb: Go on a long arduous journey, typically on foot.

Arduous. On foot. And they're not kidding. Here is a description of the trip from the tour provider's website, Global Basecamps.

Inca Trail Classic
This is the classic four-day trek along the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. This magnificent hike is for travelers who are in condition to hike up to ten hours, with breaks, in a single day. The pace may be daunting for some...

Um, did I forget to mention that, in an ironic stroke of fate, both E and I share the same hip and S.I. joint issues? We even had the same hip surgery, within 3 months of one another. When we go on our legendary photo jaunts, one of us invariably has to sit down to rest our back at some point - and I'm talking after an hour or so. 

So, hiking for ten hours a day, at a "daunting" pace does not sound like something either of us are cut out for.

Funnily enough, when I suggested she enter the competition (which is something I frequently ask my friends to do - enter vacation sweepstakes in case they win and decide to take me) we exchanged laffs on Facebook about how it was totally likely that one of us would win because, you know, we can barely walk some days, let alone hike.

Yeah. Funny. That's the word.

Further, the winner's email that E received, mentions that the trip includes the following:

• Camping Equipment:
• Spacious North Face tents
• Dining tent
• Toilet tent, tables and chairs
• Oxygen bottle
• Cooking equipment. 

Like we should be soooo relieved that there is a tent for pissing in.

I'm sorry but I just can't help but have visions of sitting in the toilet tent, half-dead after ten hours of hiking, hugging my oxygen bottle.

So, not only will be hiking 10 hours a day but we'll be sleeping our bad backs on the floor, in a tent, and going potty in a toilet presumably small enough to carry up a mountain.

Did I mention E and I also don't like to rough it?

But I say this all in jest (well, not totally, I am a bit concerned) because, really, who gets this opportunity placed in their lap? Not everyone. And if you know anything about me, you'll know that I'm up for a challenge, especially when it comes to traveling. If it means I have to hire a personal trainer to get my sore ass in shape, just so I can make it up that hill, then that is what I am going to do. Machu Picchu is on my (as yet to be revealed/completed/published) bucket list and, dammit, I am going to scale that mountain, take my awesome pictures and come back victorious (or paralyzed... one or the other.)

GAME ON!

Image Courtesy of http://www.travelphant.com/2010/05/manchu-picchu.html

You can read E's amusing account of her epic win here: http://thegurlylife.typepad.com/gurly/2011/04/machu-pichu-really.html

Things that go dry in the night

A couple of weeks ago I had a really stupendous head cold. It was a real doozie. Sinus pain (yes, not just pressure but actual pain) like you would not believe and orifices that continuously dripped all kinds of nasty junk. It crept up on me and then, it seemed, disappeared after a few days.

Except it didn't disappear. It just migrated to my chest.

I now have a cough. It's not that bad and I must hack no more than five or six times all day. If you spent the day with me, you'd think I was just clearing my throat. No big deal.

But come the nighttime, well that's a different matter. I can sit in bed and read for a full hour without coughing once and then, as soon as I turn the light off to go to sleep? WHAMMY, this dry, prickly, tickley cough assaults me out of nowhere. I try sitting up, laying on my side, drinking lots... but it takes a while to dissipate.

Unfortunately, last Friday night and then again last night it did not. I had to get up and come downstairs to cough into a pillow (because, you know, you don't want to wake your toddler.) And finally, I had to admit defeat and take some Robitussin.

Cough medicine - pretty much any cold/flu medication - is an absolute last resort for me. It makes me drowsy and woosey for 24 hours after just one dose. So now I feel like someone stuffed cotton wool in my head and then made me down several shots of brandy. I am all warm inside, yawn constantly, and often find myself staring blankly into a void for minutes at a time.

So, I did stop coughing and finally got to sleep around midnight but the price to pay will be trying to power through a webinar presentation for 25 people this morning, when all I want to do is drop to the floor, close my eyes and drift into a morning snooze.

My gray hairs

If you've hung out with me in person over the last month, you're no doubt groaning about the title of this post. Because you've heard it. You've seen it. You've practically communed with it. But if we're just online pals then you're still sweetly innocent and an open book upon which I can paint my woe.

I. AM. GOING. GRAY.

{sad face}

I'm not just talking one stray hair somewhere, I'm talking about a broad smattering of silvery-white hairs, speckled throughout my head.

Now this may elicit nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders from you. Which I kinda get because us women tend to obsess about the aging process all the time. We see every little wrinkle, every little blemish, every little hair out of place and then we run out and purchase expensive creams that we are convinced will reverse the aging process when, in fact, we could probably rub a jar of Vaseline into our crow's feet and get the same effect.

Going gray is kinda like that. You see a gray hair, you freak out, you color it, you move on.

I'm not moving on.

I have tried.

For some reason, this is a BIG DEAL to me. I am wholly disappointed in my body.  I'm not exactly the world's most physically vain person. It's not like I'm a girl who can't have her husband see her without make-up, or won't leave the house without mascara. I live in yoga paints most days, rarely wear make-up, and have given up heels except for parties. So, I consider myself pretty down-to-earth and, these days, practical about this skin I live in. But, still... I am not ready.

In my 30s I expected the beginnings of crow's feet, frown lines, a more squishy physique, some aches and pains, a lesser ability to survive a night on the town... I realized all of these things would creep up on me. And they have been creeping. I've noted the change. I'm not surprised.

Yet I was not expecting gray for at least another 10 years. I mean, what woman in your 30s do you ever see running around with gray hair? Ok, maybe one in those third-world countries where they've got sun-leathered skin, been through civil war, and endured starvation. Clearly, not me, however.

My point is: it's much too early.

And too much, too fast.

One minute I'm examining this odd, shiny hair catching the light at the top of my scalp, the next minute I'm staring at a bunch of them appearing throughout my hair, no matter where I part it. It was literally within the course of a few weeks that this change occurred. Literally. I do not exaggerate.

Of course, I am going to color it out. None of that box color, either. I don't want this left to chance. I need a professional and I'm off to my hairdresser next week to take care of it, don't you worry your pretty head. I just wonder what would happen if I let it grow out naturally. I mean, would I be completely gray by 40? Yikes, maybe sooner?

Part of me is curious to find out, in peculiarly masochistic way. Perhaps I could start a trend?

Yeah, ok, I'm not much of a trend setter these days. Plus, I would likely punch out the first woman who asked me how old my "granddaughter" is. (People say the most bizarre things to you when you have a kid, so I would not be surprised. I've already been asked if Daisy is adopted because she's blond. SERIOUSLY!)

No doubt, after posting this, I will get a slew of comments from women telling me all about their gray hairs in an attempt to make me feel 'normal' again. (Or not, in which case, reason to panic.) Yet, the thing about that is: if it's so freakin' normal then why am I so unprepared?

Perhaps it's because almost everyone colors their hair these days. Who really knows what natural hair color is under those highlights? Perhaps it's because the aging process is an almost taboo subject for many women? Who knows. But nobody and nothing prepared me to go gray this early.

I am sideways about this. Completely sideways.

I will put this in the box of life experiences I plan to better prepare my own daughter for. I've got a list. I'll share it some day.

What I really want, I may never give myself

What I really want is a day to myself.

A day to meander through. To get up in my own time; read books in coffee shops; to go shopping and re-kit my wardrobe; to eat lunch with a girlfriend at an outdoor cafe; to watch chick flicks with a glass of wine, uninterrupted.

Before I had Daisy, I was the type of person who would have told someone like me to just do it; to hand the kid off to the grandparents and take the time for myself. Because, after all, one shouldn't lose oneself to one's role as a mother and it was healthy to have "me" time to balance out all the time spent performing all the roles -employee, mother, wife, daughter - for others.

Of course, I would have been right. I am right. But it aint that easy.

Sure, literally speaking I am lucky enough to be able to drop my daughter at my parent's house for the day. Theoretically and practically speaking, there is no reason why I could not put this plan into action today.

This would be, if there wasn't the guilt.

The guilt that I already spend 40+ hours away from my daughter working. The guilt that my parents spend that time (and more) with her instead of me and, although they are fantastic with her, I am her parent, not them.

The guilt that my house needs cleaning; my closets need organizing; that I haven't filed a piece of paper in three years; that I have lots of perfectly good clothes in my wardrobe I could wear if only I could find the time to workout like I used to or the willpower to eat as good as I once did; and, of course, if I have time away from my daughter, I should probably be working out.

The guilt of spending money on frivolous things when we desperately need a new shower, better drainage in our yards, and new interior doors, to name just a few things around our house. Then there's the dogs who really need grooming, poor things, or at least a bath, which we never have time or money for these days.

The guilt that, if I'm going to off my daughter to her grandparents yet again, I should probably do it to spend some quality time with my husband because, you know, our marriage is important too.

In a flash of a second, my brain, when contemplating that selfish day, runs through all of this guilt, piled up over the last two years, and dumps it right on top of my giddy feelings of excitement, like a bucket of cold water.

One day, I may take that time, but right now I'm still trying to figure out how to take a shower without feeling like I have to rush in and out.

Unafraid

I am afraid of snakes.

I am afraid of large bodies of water.

I am afraid of things in large bodies of water. Especially fish or other large things in the body of water - like ships.

What I am NOT afraid of, is making mistakes.

I am quite happy to **ck up once in a while. Ok, more than once in a while.

I figure: "So what?" I got smarts, I got know-how, I got the ability to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. I don't know all the answers but I'm willing to ask the questions and to never quit learning.

Do you know what kinds of people have made the most mistakes? The most successful ones. I learned this lesson first in a way that was real to me, from reading the autobiography of Richard Branson, Losing My Virginity. The man lived on the edge. He was willing to lose everything to gain something significant. He compromised on details but never on his dreams or his vision.

In this cultural environment of austerity and sacrifice, I fear that we are losing the gumption, the BALLS, to strive for more in our life.

Many of us have lost real and important things - jobs and houses being the most obvious - with real and sad consequences. But I worry that our generation has lost a lot more than that: the drive to push boundaries, to do great things, and the tolerance for risk to make it happen.

I hope not but I worry. Because I, for one, would rather go down in a ball of flames, having explored every nook and cranny of my life and my world, than live life at a slow burn, forever afraid to stoke the fire.

Out of control

That is: Daisy's toy collection.

Granted, she's home all day, most days, and so is engaged at one point or another with almost everything she has (and I did purge/donate in January), but it's getting to the point where I'm kind of embarrassed to have people over. Unless they have kids Daisy's age, in which case, they're thrilled to have something to occupy them.

The irony, of course, is that this is supposed to be/was our "adult" room. We have a family room but since the dogs essentially "live" in it (read as furry, smelly den) and we put in hard-wood floor (read as multiple opportunities for toddler head bonks) we have kind of let ourselves live in the living room. Which was totally not my plan. Not at all.

What was my plan?

Something like this...

... but with a bit more color/vibrance. Great for conversation, reading, relaxing, cocktails... you know, ADULT STUFF.

Instead, my living room (and what was formerly a dining room, before I sold the dining room table and all-but gave-up on having an adult dinner  for, oh, say, 10 years) looks like this

Yeah, you can gasp now.

How do YOU manage your kids' things? Do you just not have as much stuff as we do? Obvy, I need tips.

HELLLLLLLLLLP! I am drowning in Fisher Price!

The nightmare that wasn't

On Saturday I got pulled over by a CHP officer just a mile or so from home. I was a bit miffed but not worried because I knew I had not been speeding or breaking any other law at the time... or so I thought.

As it turns out, I had.

My car's registration had been expired since September of last year!!

Now, I'll admit to not being THE MOST organized person and yes, it is true that I have three years of filing waiting to be done, piling up in the bottom of a file cabinet. However, barring some major mishap or life event, I am never late with bills and this is not the kind of bill I would ignore. Further, given that it had been expired for 5 months, I would have had to of missed several expiration warnings from the DMV, which I'm pretty sure I did not.

And yet, as the CHP officer patiently waited for me to sift through all the mommy crap in my glove compartment, my brain began to race. I bought the car in December of 2009 and did not remember ever having received or paid a registration renewal for it. I knew, as I was kinda pretending to look for the document, that I didn't have it but, since I hadn't realized it until that moment, I figured following through with my exclamations of confusion and incredulity was necessary.

I did find the original paper registration that was sent to me after I purchased the car but that was it. The officer took that, my license and insurance, and went off to run my numbers.

As a model citizen, I was not worried, of course. In fact, it was a sunny day, Daisy was not in the car with me (which I was really thankful for), and I was not in a hurry to get anywhere for a change. I sat in a strip mall parking lot with the window open and actually appreciated the enforced rest. (Yeah, I know, comes to something when you appreciate a traffic stop just to get some R&R.)


Turns out there was an incomplete release of liability on my DMV record, which saved me. A perfectly plausible explanation as to why I hadn't received any renewal notices (whew - I had been thinking stolen mail and identity theft or something.) I got a fix-it ticket anyway and ended up having a very nice conversation with the officer about my accent, which is pretty usual. The few other times I have been stopped by a cop, I have had similar experiences. I even actually thanked him for stopping me and alerting me to my out-of-date registration. We parted with a smile and told each other to have a good day.

(Yes, birds were chirping in the background too.)

All of which still left me with a 5-months out-of-date registration that I needed to take care of ASAP. Fortunately I don't have to drive to work every day but I still use my car A LOT and can't afford to be off the road for any length of time. This meant a trip to the DMV on Monday morning. And without an appointment.

OUCH.

Here is what I was thinking: long lines, hours out of my precious work-day, cancel my Valentines lunch with Hubby, arguments with the DMV rep who wants to charge me penalties for late payment, forms to take to the dealership to force them to release liability, more calls and arguments with them to get them to cover my penalties, weeks of issue and hassle, and perhaps even a mental breakdown by yours truly. Because these sorts of things are never easy, are they?

Well, as it turns out, sometimes they are.

I got to the DMV at 8am when they opened, was seen within 10 minutes, had my registration issue fixed, paid my registration minus penalties and left with my 2011 decal. I was home by 8:30.

WHAT!?

I know. Chirping birds again.

A brief and random train-of-thought post: Sacrifices

Today I met a friend for lunch. She's a smart cookie this chick. Business-savvy of the entrepreneurial, go-getting kind. We haven't seen one another for a while, in fact since I became a mother. She recently (as in the last 3 years) adopted a young boy. Our lives have been forever changed, as we finally admitted, despite our protestations to the contrary prior to parenthood landing on our doorstep.

Anyway, the topic of sacrifice came up. It's been on my mind a lot lately. I'm a cake-and-eat-it kind of girl, not much for sacrifice, I'll admit. I'd prefer to think I'm smart enough to figure out how to do it all, have it all, and pay for it. Yeah, I know, denial 101.

So, we talked about the things you're willing to give up to get where you want to go in life. How much are you willing to let the "here and now" suck in order to make the "there and later" everything you ever wanted it to be?

I don't know the answer to this question right now - I've been pondering it for quite a while now and haven't come to any sort of conclusion, probably because I'm convinced I'll find the "have it all" solution sometime soon - but I do know what I'm afraid of and it's not poverty or failure. Nah, neither of these don't even warrant pause. It's missing out on enjoying today in the endless pursuit of the greener grass.

What if I dropped dead tomorrow? What if someone I love did? What if something happened in my life that prevented me from enjoying my daughter, my marriage, my family, my friends, and my little daily luxuries? What then? Would I regret the sacrifices I made today for a goal that may or may not be achieved tomorrow?

Motherhood has made me much more philosophical this way; has made the choices harder, with greater consequences, the weight of responsibility heavier.

Like I said, I have no answers, no solutions, although I have many choices. Clearly, none of them are "perfect" or "easy" or there would be no contemplation necessary.

Yes, this random stream of consciousness but that's what you get today, folks. I'm too busy and too in-limbo to elaborate.

11 hours on the 11th day in 11

A peek into my scintillating and incredibly glamorous life, as gleaned from scratched notes on a pad throughout the day. Enjoy (if you make it all the way through without falling asleep!)

8:00 am

Check my work (the one that pays) email. Meh... nothing remotely motivating. Reply to some new inquiries that will never go anywhere. Stomach grumbles. Realize I didn't eat breakfast. Run downstairs to grab a bowl of Fiber One cereal (you know, the stuff that isn't supposed to taste like cardboard, but kinda does.) My daughter, Daisy, and mother are at the bottom of the stairs. Listen to mum regale stores of how Daisy was blowing snot bubbles during breakfast. (Momentarily reconsider that bowl of cereal). Stand in front of the tv rapidly shoveling in my cereal and watching an interview with Paul Giammati about his new movie. "Barney's Version." Realize I will probably never get to the theater to see it. Mentally tune out and listen to my mother trying to teach my daughter correct pronouns (she still talks about herself in the 3rd person.) "When Daisy talks about herself she says 'me'. You say 'me', not Daisy." Think that it's likely that Daisy will be 21 before she gets that one. (No offense, mum, I'm not doing any better!)

9:00 am - check my calendar for the day. Bliss! No conference calls or webinars. Feeling of excitement lasts only a minute after I remember I have a list of to-dos that are less than exciting, including follow-up calls to people who never return them. Try to check my personal email but the site is down. Momentarily irritated before realizing I'm not supposed to be in personal email anyway. Decide to have a quick (as in jump-in-soap-jump-out) shower first, in the hopes it will boost my enthusiasm for the day. Realize fleetingly that my throat STILL HURTS after what seems like months of being sick. In a matter of seconds, debate and dismiss need to go to doctor. Don't want more antibiotics.

10:00 am - While writing away on a promotional piece, am continuously distracted by my mother losing temper with Daisy's Thomas the Tank Engine Mega Blocks play set, which my daughter repeatedly dismantles throughout the course of the day in toddler-temper (and which nobody can seem to fix except for her Dad.) Train set is called "Stupid!" (use English accent - "stewpid"  - and through mother's gritted teeth) at least ten times. Then, as my mother frantically tries to put the train set back together, Daisy begins to whine "Pleaeaaaase muuuuuuum! Mummy help you! Mummy help you!" which does not go down well. (And further illustrates the problem with the pronouns, since she means "Mummy help me!") Husband attempts to promote my photography Facebook fanpage. All goes terribly wrong. Redeems himself quickly.

11:00 am 

English elevenses - cup of tea and a home made fiber muffin (Yes, MORE fiber. Let's not go there.) Realize that, despite having run and emptied the dish washer just yesterday afternoon, we are already out clean tea spoons. How does this happen? Back to writing... Have an idea for an article for a real estate e-zine and so dash off a quick synopsis email to the editor. Smell of orange Pledge I used to polish my desk yesterday is giving me a headache and so light my tangerine candle. Citrus overload.


12:00 pm -  My mother left the dogs outside while she went out for a walk and my eldest dog, Frankie, has not stopped barking for... forever. They should use him in Afghanistan instead of water-boarding. Much more effective. On the other hand, it's payback for the neighbors. If they are home. (Fingers crossed.) Am I wicked? Talking of wicked, Amazon.com keeps sending me Daily Deals Alerts. I need to unsubscribe. Unless it's free right now, I aint buying. (Hello post-Christmas-poverty!) Had someone recommend a blog about "The Happiness Project". Is someone trying to tell me I'm a miserable shrew?

1:00 pm - While simultaneously writing a puff piece about the products I sell, I told my husband (as feedback to one of his marketing pieces) that no fancy marketing words could replace sending a prospect "something of value". Stopped writing puff pieces. Changed tactics. Duh. One thing I do love about my job: I can do that. Switcheroo, just like that. Of course, I just negated almost a whole morning's work. Sigh.

2:00 pm - Listening to my mother try to put my daughter down for her nap without the binky. Daisy used to fall asleep in Nanny's arms when we had the b-thing but now she kicks and screams and fights and is not so cooperative. Of course, mother won't let her cry for a second. No sireee. So she reads her 6 books and shhhhes in her ear like a steam train. Sigh. Grandparents!  Got requested contract revisions from a new potential client. Sigh, again. (Lots of sighing goes on during my day.)

3:00 pm - Got an email about "What your toddler should be drinking". Had a moment of "OMG, I bet Daisy isn't drinking as much as she needs and is probably drinking too much juice!" and then paused with hand on mouse and, instead, deleted the email. In fact, I unsubscribed to the emails forever. So tired of hearing what my daughter should or shouldn't be doing. She (and I) are just fine. GO AWAY! On subject of drinking, randomly realize I have not had a martini in... months? A friend recommends I start drinking right away, and keep it up, for fear of developing an intolerance. Ack. An intolerance to martinis!? "BARTENDER!"

4:00 pm - Finishing up work and trying to tell a client-to-be that the whole purpose of a 12 month contract is that they commit to 12 months. Because, you know, if you have the option to cancel with barely notice at any time, then it's not really a 12 month contract. Ahem.

5:00 pm - Linoleum shopping with the hubs and Daisy at Home Depot. For my birthday we're re-doing the laundry room. (I know, it's like getting a toaster for your anniversary but it's what I wanted so, whatevs.) I want black-and-white tile-type linoleum to replace the original flooring that is 70s and just plain icky. See below. Apparently black-and-white linoleum is next-to-impossible to come by but we found what we need for $45 in the remnants section. Woot! The walls will be hot, hot orange, btw. It's gonna be RAD. As to whether it will actually result in me being any more timely with pushing laundry through? That's going to remain up for debate.

6:00 pm - Stop for a hot-dog at Urban Dog & Sausage. Ughh... no day ever seems right to start my diet. Ok, really, I know: every day is right. But it's a sausage! So, tomorrow then?

I'm doing it

I'm going backwards.

No, I don't mean like walking backwards (I'd probably fall down and break my hip.)

Nor backwards mentally (although that's a matter for discussion. See here.)

I mean backwards in age. As of this year, I'm heading back to zero. Which means that, by the time I'm 70, I"ll be ready to be born again. (Literally, not spiritually.)

And in true Ranty Pants style, I will commemorate this momentous decision by throwing myself my first reverse birthday party. Two Saturdays from now, fifteen friends and I will eat deliciously fattening brunch-type items and toast the wondrousness of me with sparkling mimosas.

No husbands. No kids. What!? I know. I am sooooo kewl.

Of course, there are a few small details that I conveniently chose to overlook (or more honestly, block out) about hosting my own party:

1. I'll have to clean my house...
2. ... and decorate it myself.
3. I don't have a dining table.

So, I'm thinking my Happy Birthday gift to me will be a cleaner and my dad will need to bring furniture.

Losing my mind

Lately I feel I have quite literally been losing my mind.

I should clarify. It's not just been lately but it's been getting worse and worse and to the point where my husband is staring at me with big buggy eyes and asking "WHO ARE YOU?"

I have never been particularly forgetful. Sure, like most people, I would occasionally forget something, lose something, that kind of thing. And it would drive me NUTS when I did. I had things together. I did not forget things.

My husband, however, and like my Dad, has always had a sieve for a brain. It's been a standing joke in our family that, whenever he leaves the house, you can count to 10 and he will come back through the door to grab whatever it is he left behind. Often times, he will have to drive back home later in the day to pick up something else he forgot. He also does things like keave shoes, coffee cups, and milk boxes on the roof of his or my car and then drive away.

(He's going to hate me for airing his dirty laundry on here. LOVE YOU HONEY!)

Well, all of those years of rolling my eyes at him is severely coming back to bite me in my fat ass because I have become...

GASP!

WORSE!

That's right, I've gone from smugly making fun of his holey memory to being the premier lunatic in our family.

And it's driving me NUTS.

I continually misplace keys or my wallet or my bluetooth headset or my phone (those are the primary culprits.) I have left the house for lunch with friends without my wallet in my bag and needed them to pay. {shame} I frequently dash around the house seconds before my hand hits the front door knob, looking for one of two sets of my car and house keys. Almost EVERY night before I go to bed, I begin an Indiana-Jones-like search for my cell phone.

Here is yesterday's anecdote. A prime illustration.

We were going to Kohls, to get out of the house and because I had $20 in Kohls cash and because they were having a 60% off sale.

I grabbed the diaper bag, which I was convinced contained my wallet in the front pocket. However, when I looked, it wasn't there. I suddenly remembered (whoooah!) that I had done the same thing yesterday and that Hubby had to pay for everything. So then I went to the next culprit - my red Gap bag. I had used it the day before when I went to the docs and had paid my doctor's co-pay as well as buy some things at the drugstore. It must be in the red bag.

Not.

I frantically searched around. I checked my computer table (where it sometimes lands for an online purchase.) I checked my office (ditto). I checked the stairs (where everything without a home lands.) I re-checked the red bag.  And re-checked it again. And then began to panic.

Had I left it at the drug store? Had it dropped out of my bag in my car? (Had it dropped out of my bag on the street!!?)

We checked the car. Nope.

And then Hubby dug around again INSIDE the diaper bag and there it was. (This was after I threw a panic fit and caused both of us to get agitated.)

Ahem.

Crisis averted, I put my Kohls cash in my coat pocket and off we went.

We shopped around Kohls until Daisy yelled "Pasta!" and we realized she needed to be fed. I got to the line for the cash registers, put my hand in my pocket for the Kohls cash coupon and... could not find it. It was gone!

Crap! So, while Daisy and I waited in line, Hubby ran out to the car to see if it had fallen out of my pocket. He ran back in shaking his head and then proceeded to check the aisles we had walked down, in case it had dropped out of my pocket in the store.

Amazingly, he found it.

And then we got to the register and I reached into my diaper bag and...

... my wallet was not there.

I frickin' kid you not. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. (I think Hubby was close to hitting me.)

I realized then, of course, that when he had originally found the wallet in the diaper bag I had taken it and put it on the center console of my car *so I wouldn't forget it.* (Yeah, great strategy.)

Hubby paid (thanks again, there babe) and we left Kohls talking incredulously about how my brain has turned to mush and WHAT THE HELL?

I bought us all dinner to commiserate and then we came home, played, and put Daisy to bed. At which point - yes, you guessed it - I went on the hunt for my cell phone. (Which I had left in my coat pocket.)

So, own up, friends. Which one of you crept into my house late one night and STOLE MY MIND?

Taking multi-tasking to a whole new level

One of the great things about working from home is that you can sometimes find creative ways to combine personal and professional tasks simultaneously, that you would not be able to in an ordinary office environment.

For instance, the ability to give yourself a quick facial using a chocolate-truffle mud mask, while putting together your sales goals and plans for 2011.

Piss off!

Last Sunday, we were going about our daily business when we realized we had a colorless wet spot on the living room carpet. Given we have toddler who was then running around with a sippy cup we deduced she was the culprit. I smelled it at the time and it didn't really have a strong scent so we mopped the puddle casually up with a towel and went about our day.

Four days later, my nose started twitching as I was playing with Daisy in that same spot. The smell of rancid urine was wafting around my nose and it wasn't that "you forgot to change my diaper recently, Mum," kind of smell. I crawled over to the approximate spot where I remembered the wet patch and almost gagged - piss it was and, just as I thought, not a toddler's. Then it came together with our youngest dog, Maggie - aka: my one-second-from-a-Craigslist-sell-off mutt - inexplicably peeing on the rug in front of the back french doors a couple days earlier. Yup, the b**ch had peed on our 1-year new shag pile. (I hate that dog.)

No worries, right? Some Nature's Miracle, some paper towels, some Febreze and all is right with the world.

NOT.

We have repeated this ritual 3 times since Wednesday, literally drenching the carpet to try and get deep-down into the fibers and still the smell is deep and equally as rancid. We even pulled out our carpet cleaner and gave it a good soaking today and still it smells no different.

I am seriously freaking out. What if the smell doesn't come out? What the hell do we do? I can't live in a house that smells like dog piss! I also can't afford to replace the carpet.

BUT IT GETS WORSE

The towel I initially used to mop up the "spill", I later threw in the washing machine with a couple of other items. BAD IDEA. When I opened the machine after the first wash, the smell was just as bad there! It took two more go throughs with the fabrics and one empty run with just bleach just to get it to go away.

BUT IT GETS EVEN WORSE.

Although I thought the smell had been washed out of the towel, after I put it in the dryer I realized notsomuch. Now the dryer smells like dog urine and we can't get rid of it!!


We have ditched the offending towel at this point (as well as the other stinky items that accompanied it) and run the dryer repeatedly with Dryel sheets, lavender laundry sachets, even one of those dryer Dry Cleaning cloths to see if it would absorb the smelly microbes. It smells great right after the cycle is done but go back about 30 minutes later and the smell is just as bad. We did a test run with an old towel to see if the smell transferred to new fabrics and the answer, sadly, was yes. Towel #2 in the garbage.

Now we have a load of laundry sitting in the washing machine (and several loads waiting to go in) that we can't dry for fear of turning them into a pile of dog's piss.

So, we're thinking... new dryer?

I mean, like, SERIOUSLY!?

Like I said, I am FREAKING OUT.

The only saving grace in all this? We're not holiday entertaining this year. I'm guessing you all just thanked your lucky stars on that one.

Bad tech mojo

This is the final installment in the sorry story of my attempt to purchase a hulking new desktop PC (aka: The Hulk), to help me with my budding photography business.

If you're new to the Ranty Pants world, you may want to check out this post first and then this post, just to get up to date. Or, not. It was bad enough to go through this technology hell, without having to read about it.

Sooo... leading off from waiting for the replacement graphics card; let me make this as painless as possible for you.

It arrived on time.

Woot.

It made no difference.

FUCK!
(Sorry, Mum. Some things just call for expletives.)

So, I called HP back again. They made the genius assessment that it wasn't the graphics card that was faulty (ahem) and that the PC had to be returned. No kidding. BUT... I bought it from Amazon.com so it was out of their hands.

On to Amazon.com. They have a very nice user interface for establishing eligibility of your order for refund/replacement and to help you instantly request a return. Thanks, Amazon. Used it and got an instant confirmation that they would be picking up the defective desktop the next day. However the email mentioned nothing about the replacement PC.

So onto Amazon Live Chat support. Very nice customer service there, by the way, Amazon scoring 10/10 so far. Lady was very apologetic, said that she couldn't see the replacement order in the system and would place it for me there and then while I waited AND would even have it shipped overnight. Wow. Seriously? Without me asking? Knock me down dead with a feather!

I was a bit worried, however, that there would be a duplicate order. She assured me there would not be. I copied the contents of my chat panel into a Word doc and saved it, trusting soul that I am.

This was yesterday. And so we're at today.

The PC arrived first thing this morning by FedEx. (If it was possible for Amazon to get an 11/10, they would have it.) Kewl beans. Then the UPS truck arrived in the afternoon to pick up the return. More beans. Except... they also had a replacement desktop to deliver. Umm... HELLO!? Am I not psychic? (Alright, maybe the word I was looking for was psychotic.) Of course, I turned that one away, pointing to the newly delivered desktop sitting just feet away. Once you sign for those things, you're responsible for returning them and I don't have time to go through all this again.

I'm hoping (praying) that there will not be another story to tell about how I got charged twice or something for these orders.

Excited, however, I decide to spend my lunch hooking up the *new* new Hulk to the monitor. Big smiles. Lots of expectations. Turn it on and... NOTHING. That's right. Not a sausage. Still no picture. WTF!? Monitor still reads "No Signal" (although, again, having the right inputs and working fine with my laptop.)

At this point I could only conclude that either:

1. HP REALLY DOES suck and is shipping one dud desktop after another (not likely, no matter how much I hate them right now.)
2. OR it's the monitor that is somehow not compatible, despite having all the right specs on paper. 

Since the simplest explanation is usually the best, I went with two and immediately moved into action. Obviously, I needed to suck it up and buy a new monitor. Spend $200 to take advantage $800 and all that. (Yeah, I know, GULP.) I had a return for Fry's electronics and decided to bite the bullet that lunchtime, by a new damn monitor and end this whole sorry story then and there.

With purpose and fast feet (because, you know, this is my lunch time and I DO HAVE a job other than being my own tech support department) I waltzed into Fry's and all-but launch myself at the salesman. 

"I need a good quality monitor for under $200; the best specs at that price, no preference on brand, and I need to get out of here as soon as possible," I say. 

I mean, am I NOT the dream customer or what? I have announced my immediate intention to buy, I've shared my goals and my price limit, all the guy has to do is find it and put it in my cart. If I could get prospects like this every day at work, I would HAVE my own tech support department.

Initially the sales guy was helpful, leading me to a wall of monitors of dizzying proportions and immediately up-selling me to an LED LCD from a plain-ole LCD. He recommended one in particular, showed me it in action on my actual desktop, and then set off to grab it from inventory. In the meantime, I found another monitor, same specs, for $20 less. So, when I came back I asked him why I he hadn't recommended the cheaper one. He was apparently grateful for my research because the initial one wasn't in stock. So off he went again to check on the cheaper one. Not in stock. So I agreed to go up $40 in price. Not in stock. Then I went to an inferior brand. Not in stock. Repeat.

Five displayed monitors later and I had single-handedly established that they did not have an LED monitor under $200 in stock. Nuttin' 

Of course, I was now PISSED. And if you've ever seen me really pissed, it's not pretty. It doesn't happen very often, funnily enough - despite being passionate and feisty, I rarely lose my temper - but when it happens it is an unstoppable tornado of wrath and destruction. In this instance, I was dealing with more than a week of technology issues, almost $1,000 spent and more in the works, time out of my day(s), my life, and still no benefit. I just wanted it to be over and I had SO pinned my hopes on grabbing a simple thing like a monitor and heading home to start up my new computer, putting this all behind me.

And so there were choice words to the hapless salesman and a stop by the Manager on the way out to let them know just what kind of establishment they were running. As I walked through the exit, a representative said "Thank you! Have a nice day!" and I stopped in my tracks, turned heel and gave him an icy "YOU MUST BE KIDDING!" stare. If looks could kill, I'd be in jail for second degree murder right now. Ahem.

On the way home, stewing about my lost hour, I saw the Target sign and did an impromptu, quick u-turn. TARGET! Why didn't I think of that!? Target has everything, right? I would stop at Target, find my monitor at a decent price and turn this day around. Yes sireee. Things were looking up.

Again, run into Target with same sense of purpose and determination only to find that.... Target sells precisely 3 different monitor models, none larger than 20" and all of which are inferior brands.

STRIKE 2. (Or at this point, maybe we should just call it game over.)

Now I was forced to abandon my monitor search, since I had to get back to my desk.

Sitting at my desk in my office, however, I happened to look up and see the Dell LCD TV that my mother bought me several years ago. On impulse, I got up and looked behind it to see what kinds of inputs it had. Low and behold it had a DVI socket which meant... you guessed it... it should work with the desktop!

My heart raced. Would THIS WORK? Would this be the answer to my problems?

And then I realized: I don't have a DVI cable. 

FUUUUUUCK! (Again, sorry Mum and to anyone else who is offended. No other word had the gravitas.)

Fortunately, Hubby came to my rescue here, likely because he foresaw some kind of implosion this evening if I couldn't get this whole situation put to bed. He went to Best Buy and brought home the appropriate cable. My little White Knight.

This evening, after we put Daisy to bed, we unhooked the LCD TV from my office, hooked the desktop to it with the new DVI cable and... HEY PRESTO, there was the start-up screen.

Now, if you've been following along from the beginning, a very sad irony may already have occurred to you. If not, let me spell it out for you clearly:

1. This likely means that the first desktop was not faulty.
2. So all this time I had another usable "monitor"sitting upstairs in my office...
3. ... and a perfectly operational new desktop PC sitting idle on my dining room table for a week.

Which means all of this was for nothing. All my time, all the Live Chats, the phone calls, the cable switcheroo, the replacement parts, the returns, the duplicate replacement orders... all unneeded.

I ordered a new monitor anyway, since the LCD TV is only 17" and I like to have it in my office as a TV. 

And how is The Hulk after all this build up? So far meeting expectations. Instantaneous start-up and connection to the internet, fast loading of my two most important programs, and a lovely keyboard that feels good under my fingers.

For now, the drama is behind me. It made good blog posts but that's just about all that was good about it.

Now off to have that third glass of wine.

Update on the Hulk

For those of you who have been following my harrowing ordeal with The Hulk, I thought I would provide a brief update: THE HULK IS BROKE.

That's right. The damn thing won't display a pinprick on a monitor. $900, out of the box, nothing.

Oh, and HP SUCKS.

I am currently waiting for a *new* (not that the old one was even old) graphics card to arrive. The man in India said it would take 3-5 days, which is just BEYOND frustrating, because that means that, although I paid for the computer and had it rush-shipped to me, it is essentially sitting useless on my dining table for at least a week.

Money gone from my account without any benefit makes me MAD.

Then, when said graphics card arrives, I have to remove the old one myself and put the new one in, which has all kinds of potential for Ranty Pants tantrums. However, if the damn thing works after that, I'm sure I'll forget it pretty fast.

IF.

Of course, we don't actually KNOW it's the graphics card because, you know, we can't get the PC to display anything on the screen to even run any diagnostics. For all we know, the whole CPU could be a pile of junk. In which case, I'm told, I have to take it to a HP certified technician for repair.

HOLD ON. I paid $900 for a NEW computer, not a refurbished one. And I paid to have it now. Not 3 weeks from now.

There is going to be one big RantyPanty tantrum if it goes that far because I'm going to want a whole new unit. Even if it means I have to hold Carly Fiorina hostage for her blackberry, just so I can hunt down the decision maker at HP who can make it happen. (Of course, there is an added benefit here - it would get her off the airwaves, so maybe I'd make it drag out a bit.)

Suffice to say, we all praying it's the graphics card.

30 things I love

As you know, unless you're new to this blog or have had your head in the sand, I have just started my own little photography business "on the side".  I'm super excited about this, of course, but also full of gut-wrenching doubt. I know I am just learning right now but I *believe* that I have some raw talent to work with and, since I learn best by doing - trial and lots of error - I've been putting myself out there with friends and family for shoots.

Much of the time I feel good about what I do, given the knowledge and experience I have (as in, not a lot.) The doubt part comes in when I look at what other photographers are doing. Folks like Jinky Art (my photography idol), or Beth Jansen, or locally Jill Carmel, Penny Silvia, and Kira Lauren just take my breath away. Barb from Jinky because what she does with light and color is just dreamy and heart-wrenching. Beth because of her saturated color and quirky set-ups. Jill's bright, creamy skin-tones. The truth and honesty and heart in Penny's images. And Kira's artistic eye. So much to learn. So far to go.

Anyway, I digress... the reason for this post was a dilemma I faced when I was setting up the profile for my Zenfolio page, the online site where I plan to hopefully sell a couple of snaps.

I was thinking about what to write to give my profile personality, a sense of me and who I am other than just a photographer. I decided to start with a list of things I like/love. What amazed me, given I'm a bit of a sarcastic bitch with a tendency for bemoaning my lot in life (thank the British gene for that), is how many things I do actually love.

The result is this unedited list and so I wanted to share it with you.

Ms. Ranty Pant Hearts:
(in absolutely no discernable order whatsoever and by no means exhaustive)

1. Being a mom. Waaaay more fun than I ever expected. Waaaay more time-consuming and all-engrossing.
2. Being a wife. I love my husband. He is my best friend, my team-mate, my partner in life. I can't see any me without him.
3. Dipping my finger in a jar of new peanut butter.
4. Crazy English food like baked beans on toast, bangers and mash, saveloys, chip butties, sausage rolls, Shepherds Pie, Yorkshire Pudding, Bisto Gravy, fish and chips, my mother's baked potatoes, over-cooked vegetables, and jacket potatoes with tuna salad.
5. Chocolate Milk (the Nesquik kind)
6. Sweet, strong coffee first thing in the morning
7. Driving in the summer (which to me is, ideally, 80 degrees) with the windows down and my favorite tunes blaring on the radio
8. Fall and Spring
9. Clothes shopping with my Mum
10. Big cities. LONDON. Everything about it. Good and bad. My heart beats a little faster, my smile becomes a little wider, my energy peaks... God I miss that place.
11. Travel. I like all kinds but a special place is reserved in my heart for foreign travel. The different sights, smells, tastes, culture. The feeling of being a little lost and discombobulated, never knowing what lies around the corner.
12. Cooking my signature winter pot roast or Shepherds Pie on a fall afternoon, glass of wine in hand, and a favorite movie playing in the background. (Haven't done this in a while. See #1)
13. Smelly candles.
14. Writing. Blogging.
15. My friends. I'm an only child and so they are like sisters/brothers to me.
16. Clothes/fashion. Although, working from home, I don't indulge as much as I used to. Hard to justify the expense when the only person who sees you is you. But I'm getting back on the saddle again. I just bought my first pair of skinny jeans. That's right, thunder thighs in skinny jeans. I'm learning to love this.
17. Social media. Facebook and twitter help me keep my sanity in my little upstairs home office.
18. Weight training. I love to feel strong. After my back injury and pregnancy it's been a long road getting back to that place but I'm working on it every day.
19. Soaps and creams that smell like the tropics - coconut, mangoes, pineapple. Yummy.
20. Bob Marley on a summer afternoon.
21. Jamaica. Makes me feel IRIE!
22. Martinis. Not the dirty kind though. Faves are apple, lemon-drop, peach. (The Georgia Peach martini at Ruby Tuesday is my current treat.)
23. The little gadget I bought that helps me take off the foil wrap around the top of the wine bottle quickly and efficiently. Changed my life by decreasing time-to-mouth; important these days of diminished time-to-self (see #1).
24. Throwing parties. Hubby and I love to host... when we have time. (See #1)
25. Sushi. Specifically anything with soft shell crab and that orgasmic orange sauce stuff. Drooooooooooool.
26. Girlfriend chatter. 
27. Home decorating. (Although you'd never know it looking at my house now. See #1.)
28. Movies. Haven't been to nearly as many as I used to. (See #1) Favorite movies include: Love Actually, Notting Hill, Sliding Doors, Shakespeare in Love, 50 First Dates, all the Bourne Films, all the Oceans films, Twilight Saga, Interview With A Vampire...
29. Reading out on my swing on a cool, fall afternoon. Favorite books: Eat Pray Love, The Female Nomad, Twilight Saga, The Other Boleyn Girl, The Memoirs of a Geisha... I could go on and on. Favorite book of ALL TIME? The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. Hit all my hot buttons: travel, history, religious intrigue, and VAMPIRES!
30. Vampires. See #28 and #29. Also a big fan of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and The Vampire Diaries.

So now you know a little bit more about me. What would you put on your list?

The Great Weight Loss Shame Off – Week 3 and 4

Last week I was soooo busy I forgot to post my weight *progress*. Ok, maybe I was busy but didn’t exactly FORGET. It was more like I did not want to admit that I went backwards.

Last time I posted, I was here. This week… I’m in exactly the same place. Still trying to kiss that 150 goodbye.

Although you don’t know it (because I *forgot* to post about it) this actually represents a week-over-week loss. Last week I was actually 151.8lbs. So, yay for me, despite drinking like a fish and eating truffled Mac and Cheese at 1am in the morning last week, I managed to get back to square one.

Whew!

None of this, however, bodes well for the 15lbs goal me and Jess from Dude & Sweeties set for ourselves a month ago.We’re 4 weeks in to our 8 week plan and I’ve only lost 2.4lbs. The only “good” thing is that I think she’s not doing an awful lot better.

However, with no trips planned in the next week, no relatives in town to take to dinners out, and a busy week ahead, I’m aiming to kiss the 50s goodbye. Last night I got out the ole Lean-Mean-Fat-Reducing-Grilling-Machine and meanly grilled some mango curry chicken, which Daisy and I gobbled up – she with tater tots and peas (yes, my kid eats peas – let the mommy hate begin) and me with just the peas.

Ok, well, maybe I DID eat a tot or two as I was dishing up. You see, this is my problem…

(This and about 30 other things, of course.)

Rolling and strolling in Chitown

I have had as much sleep, total, over my two days in Chicago as I normally get in one night.

Last night, after vowing to turn in at a respectable hour, I was peer-pressured (yeah, I know, boo hoo) into downing a shot of something or other and, shortly thereafter, lacked the will-power to say no when cajoled into heading to a club at 1am.

You read that right: I went to a club. And danced. Gawd, it's been a while.

I arrived back in my hotel room at 4:30 this morning which is normally when I wake up on a Friday to go to the gym. Since I had a 10am appointment at my exhibitor table, this meant I only got 4 hours of sleep. Ouch. It's 4:40 in the afternoon as I write this and I am still woozy from lack of sleep. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to slow down on the libations after midnight or today could have been a lot worse.

Yes. It was fun, though.

I made it through this morning's meetings and then attempted to nap but, it wasn't to be. My body just doesn't like naps. I layed there for 45 minutes before resigning myself to feeling like I'd taken an overdose of cold medication all day. There was only one thing left to do: SHOP!

I switched my leather computer case out for a hand bag, threw on my walking shoes, and walked to Chicago's Miracle Mile - the equivalent of New York's 5th Avenue or London's Oxford Street. (Ok, well, it's not as cool as Oxford Street but then I am just a tad bit bias.)

I first went to Nike Town and bought a pair of cross-trainers I've wanted for a while, now that I have begun a more rigorous training regimen with my physical therapist. As luck would have it, the $120 shoes were reduced to $50. Score!

Then I meandered around various women's clothing stores, missing my shopping partner, my mum, and generally marveling at the price of things. It's been so long since I really shopped anywhere but Old Navy, so I had a bad case of sticker shock. Couldn't resist some purchases in "Zara", however. Not for myself but for Daisy and my niece, whose 4th birthday is coming up. Man that store has cute clothes for kids!

Then, as I was walking down N. Michigan towars the water and, evenutally, the hotel, I passed a "Corner Bakery and Cafe" and had to go in for a shopping break. Corner Bakeries have hands-down the best soups, salads, and sandwiches and, when I lived in Southern California, they were all over the place. Not so in Sacraghetto so a pit-stop had to be made for Roasted Tomato-Basil soup with their yummy croutons. Slurp!

Refreshed, I continued my meandering down the street and toward the water, fishing out my point-and-shoot to take pictures along the way. Here are some of them but you can see all by clicking here.















Below is Trump Tower, Chicago.


This is The House of Blues. Across the street is my hotel, the Westin, and one of those windows about 11 floors up, is my hotel room.

Something happened on the way to Chicago

1. I (almost) had a meltdown. It was one of those "I'm fat, ugly, and have nothing to wear" meltdowns, coupled with a toddler-like kicking and screaming of "Noooo! Noooo! Noooo! I don't want to go and network and be all schmoozy" - and mashed-up with a healthy dose of mommy hormones - just the thought of not smelling Daisy's little head first thing in the morning and last thing at night, had me on the verge of blubbing.
2. I woke up 15 minutes before my alarm was due to go off at 4am but then managed to sleep through it for 30 minutes, making me a half hour behind schedule.
3. I missed the freeway exit to Sacramento airport because I was zoned-out listening to an NPR story. Again, making me even later.
4. The Day Parking for my terminal was closed, forcing me to race, with luggage, on foot from one terminal to the other. Again, making me late-late-later! (Although I made the flight... barely.)
5. I had the taxi ride from H-E-L-L from the airport to the hotel. Instead of friendly Chicago Cabby I got a mute, Kamikaze Asian dude with a beanie. Even with my significant tolerance for speed, this guy sent my heart-rate through the roof, doing 100 down freeway exits and ducking-and-diving with alarmingly wild movements between cars, reminiscent of 007 escaping the KGB,

Then I got in town, unpacked my suitcase, set-up my little exhibitor table, downed a glass of Chardonnay, and headed-out for a shopping trip in the city. There is nothing like walking in a big city to snap me right out of a funk. Add to that SHOPPING and it was a recipe for afternoon bliss.

Deep breath and E-X-H-A-L-E.

I didn't bring the big camera but I did remember my trusty little point-and-shoot. Here are some cityscape pics I snapped on-the-fly and on the way to Loehmanns.

Then it was game-face on and off to schmoozey-woozey at the networking reception slash cocktail hour. Three hours of mindless small talk and repetitive sales pitches later and I was sitting comfortably with my good friend, Kim (who is in the same industry and at the same conference with her company) in the lobby bar, drinking a Lemon Drop martini.

Our goal was to have one cocktail and then retire to bed. Yeah, weeeeell, that didn't happen. First we chatted with Kim's boss, then one of my competitors sat down for a chat (we talked kids and families, not business, thank God) and then, before we knew it, we were on cocktail #2.

A little light-headed, we decided go back to our room and then, we looked at one another and confessed we were starving hungry. It was now midnight and only in a large city can you find good food at midnight. But find it we did, at Smith and Wolensky, right on the river. There we chowed on pretzel bread with butter, to-die-for Mac and Cheese with truffles, and a yummy flat bread pizza-type thing. By which time we were lapping up this whole crazy post-drinking, city-supper thing and HAD TO try the Drunken Donuts which were, exactly as they sound: donuts with alcohol saucies. Delish!

It was 1:30am when I crawled into bed. Kim had to be up for a 7am working breakfast (oy vey) and I wasn't far behind. It was brutal, let me tell ya, BRUTAL, being woken up by the room-service coffee I ordered at 6:45.

Two more days of this folks and I won't even have the energy to melt down.