Excellent star sighting today:
Excellent star sighting today:
I had lunch today with a former business associate. This former associate happens to actually manage building I used to work in, so after lunch, finding myself with all day validated parking (a $35 value, thankyouverymuch), and looking cute (no accident there I can assure you), I decided to pay a visit to my former co-workers.
When I decided to do visit–which I wasn’t sure I was going to do until I actually approached the elevator bank, the first thing I thought, naturally, was if I could possibly lose 30 pounds before I made it from the lobby to the 8th floor. After pretty much ruling that out, I reapplied my lipstick, checked my hair, and stepped forth into my past.
Within less than a minute of my arrival, who showed up at the reception area but my old boss, the asshat. Naturally he was rushing to do some really important corporate bidding, but our greeting was cordial. I then spent the next hour or so visiting former friends and co-workers.
Everyone asked how I was, commented on how great I looked, and asked how the new job was going. I will tell you that I positively gushed about the fabulousness that is my life, post-corporate-drone.
Yes, I love my job. Yes, my boss is great. My clients? I rattled off the names of my most prestigious ones, naturally. But the best part…yes, I go in the office, about two half days a week. Yes, I work from home. Yes, it’s great. Yes, I’m enormously happy. Yes, Zoe gets bigger every day. Yes, Chuck is doing well. Yes, he still travels, but not as much as he used to. Yes, we’re just back from 10 days in Curacao.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
And while I have been very mindful of appreciating all the great things this last year has brought, in the way of personal and professional satisfaction, happiness, and growth on a near-daily basis, it really brought it all home to me today.
I have a lot to be thankful for.
So thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day to all my fellow mothers out there.
But probably the best part of Mother’s Day for me, besides pressure washing my backyard, was that I got breakfast in bed. Zoe woke up at 8:00 and scampered into the kitchen to make me pink pancakes (regular pancakes with food coloring, but we’re all about exotic here) all by herself.
The thing is, I didn’t wake up until 10:15. But at 10:20 she came in, with a beautiful tray with ice cold orange juice, and a plate piled high with ice cold pancakes.
They were the best damned pancakes I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.
People who are Starbux regulars: Buckies.
I’m a single girl this week. Zoe is off on a three day class trip to Astro Camp and, as Chuck has diligently reported, he’s on a grand tour of the armpits of the east coast. So, for the last few days, and for a few more precious hours, I’m a single girl — or as single as I can get with 10 pets.
So, as part of my single girl thing, went to The Standard tonight, to meet a friend who was having a little drinks party on the rooftop bar. I was excited about everything about the evening, except that her little soiree required that I drive downtown tonight in rush hour traffic. And to make matters worse, the CD changer in my car went on the fritz this afternoon, so I was going to sit in traffic (ugh) with no book (double ugh). (The horribleness of the CD player breaking in my five month old Lexus is another story for another time.)
But I was intrepid and did not cancel my plans despite the traffic and audio issues. I hit the road and tuned into NPR
I love NPR. I love All Things Considered. I will especially always love NPR if for no other reason than Cokie Roberts.
I heard a story tonight that touched me very deeply. So deeply in fact that I made a note of it and re-listened to it when I got home tonight. And I want to share it with you.
The report was about geneticists who are working to identify the remains of victims of Hurricaine Katrina. Many of the volunteers who are working on this project volunteered after September 11th to help identify remains. However, unlike vicitms of the World Trade Center tragedy who had families, homes, and belongings that scientists could use to get DNA, Hurricaine Katrina victims, more often than not, had nothing left.
So tracking down famility members to get DNA samples is an arduous process.
But apparently not without its rewards.
In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, as you know, thousands and thousands were reported missing. And in light of the situation at the time and for the weeks that followed, assuming the worst was not unreasonable. But eight months have now passed, and while scientists are hoping to provide closure for some families, sometimes there’s another story.
Because sometimes those missing people have been found.
But they’re still in the registries of missing people.
And when the volunteers call families with the sad task of requesting DNA samples for possible closure, often they are told that the presumed missing family members have been found. And when a volunteer gets that wonderful news, he or she gets to ring a bell, so that all the other volunteers know that one more person has been found and is alive and well.
I fear I have not done justice to this story. Click on this link to listen for yourself. And hope that as you’re listening someone is getting to ring the bell again.
I am a big old American Idol geek. There, I said it. You can now either write me off as a total loser or share in the joy that is idolonfox.com (as we call it here).
So, imagine my utter delight when, sitting in the line for drive-thru (yes, I know that’s not how you spell through, but when you’re in line at Popeyes it’s thru, so shut up), and scrolling through the many features of my Razr (except in black), I discovered that I could download the Wednesday night adios song, Bad Day, as my ring tone. Yes, I have achieved full geek-osity I know. But what was more pathetic was the fact that I was ever so thankful that Zoe was in the car, because while I managed to find the song, I had to have my 10 year old download it for me and set it as my new ring tone.
To take this to new levels of geekiness, I had my work phone in the car with me as well, so we spent the drive home calling my Razr just to hear the ring. I was thrilled.
But then a few days passed. I was missing call after call after call…all from Chuck who hates when he can’t reach me, and in his most recent message (from last week that I just managed to listen to today), he threatened to confiscate my phone because I’m too irresponsible to own one since I can’t ever manage to answer it.
You see, I’ve always selected a ring tone that sounds like an actual phone ringing for my cell phone. Because it’s a phone. It should ring, not play some song, or some weird Lazarium sound effect sounding thing. So my phone would ring and a song would play and for whatever reason (maybe because it’s a phone????!!!!) I would never actually associate the new noise I heard as being my phone. OK, there were a couple of times when I heard the music and realized it was my phone and actually answered it and was thrilled with myself for realizing it was my phone ringing, but on the whole, calls would be missed, tempers were tried, and all together it was not a good thing.
Finally, on Saturday night, sitting at dinner with Chuck and some friends, after Chuck had called me three separate times to coordinate meeting us at the restaurant and getting no answer (see note above regarding the fact that there was no ring) Chuck changed my ring tone back to an actual ring for me.
You can call me now honey and there’s a better than 50% chance I’ll actually answer it.
Here in LALA Land, it’s season number two, spring (as opposed to seasons one and three: fire season or earthquake season). And spring means grilling.
So last night I put a lovely marinated tri tip roast out on the trusty grill, over indirect heat, for dinner. The menu was simplicity and deliciousness personified: grilled tri tip (as previously mentioned), baked potatoes, and roasted asparagus.
But here’s the thing about meat: there are varying opinions in this house as to what constitutes “done”. For me it’s medium rare. For Chuck and Zoe, it’s more along the lines of well. Which I think is just a crime, but always second-guessing myself, it typically turns out ummmm…a little rarer than rare, and no one is happy. So lately I’ve been using my trusty digital meat thermometer. It’s truly brilliant. You insert the cabled probe into the meat. The trusty cable comes out of the oven (or grill in this case), you plug that into the thermometer. You set the desired temp. And poof, voila, when the meat reaches that temp it beeps and tells you it’s done. And you no longer end up with a roast that is still blue on the inside.
So the probe goes in the meat. In the oven (or grill). And roasts, right along with your roast.
And unless your me, or you too have lost your mind, you realize that it’s likely that the probe is going to be extremely hot when your meat comes to the desired temperature.
Because last night when removing my perfectly cooked roast from the grill, I thought it would be easier to carry if that silly probe wasn’t in the roast anymore. And while the meat was still on the grill decided to use my bare hand to remove it.