Saturday, March 26, 2011
Moved...
The Real Housewife of Charlotte has moved... literally! Please visit the Real Housewife of Milwaukee!
Friday, February 18, 2011
It's not you, it's me
Charlotte, I'm breaking up with you. But it's not you, it's me.
You've been a great home for the last year and a half. You've taught me a lot about myself and about my interests and goals. We definitely had a lot of fun - I loved the Whitewater Center and the Lazy 5 Ranch and all the awesome restaurants. I loved my country club, my tennis lessons, and my water aerobics classes. I love that it's 75 degrees in the middle of February. You made me very, very happy.
But I miss my family and I miss my friends, and so it's time for me to move back to Wisconsin. I'm sure the first time I am forced to shovel, I'll be longing for a southern snowstorm instead, but the weather isn't enough of a reason for me to stay.
Hopefully we can stay friends and I can visit you again, and maybe someday you'll be my home again. I'll miss you, and you'll always have a special place in my heart.
Love,
The Real Housewife ofCharlotte Milwaukee
You've been a great home for the last year and a half. You've taught me a lot about myself and about my interests and goals. We definitely had a lot of fun - I loved the Whitewater Center and the Lazy 5 Ranch and all the awesome restaurants. I loved my country club, my tennis lessons, and my water aerobics classes. I love that it's 75 degrees in the middle of February. You made me very, very happy.
But I miss my family and I miss my friends, and so it's time for me to move back to Wisconsin. I'm sure the first time I am forced to shovel, I'll be longing for a southern snowstorm instead, but the weather isn't enough of a reason for me to stay.
Hopefully we can stay friends and I can visit you again, and maybe someday you'll be my home again. I'll miss you, and you'll always have a special place in my heart.
Love,
The Real Housewife of
Thursday, February 17, 2011
"You're not normal."
For much of my life, I've been told that I'm not normal, or some variation, such as "you're weird." Yeah, I know.
I find the topics that trigger the abnormal comments very interesting. The one that triggered this post though was being surrounded by a bunch of other alums from my alma mater for our annual basketball game watching party at a local sports bar, and it had to do with the song that my alma mater plays during its introduction at the men's basketball games - "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2. This song has been played for years, and though the game operations people have changed it at various times over the years, the alumni feedback (read: complaints) have led to making "Streets" seemingly permanent. And the alums LOVE it.
I don't get it.
A) I don't understand how this song is a pump song, B) I don't understand how this is even an option for a basketball game in 2011. C) I don't like U2.
I know some fans have a Pavlovian response to the song because it was the intro song in the early part of the decade when the team went to the Final Four. I get that. But a lot has changed since then, including the coach of the team, not to mention the obvious change in roster. I can't imagine any of them get pumped by this song either.
Apparently this means I'm not normal.
I'm pretty sure there was some sort of law that that people my age had to pay $150 to see U2 in concert in 1997, but I don't like U2 and never really have. In fact, I remember standing up in my friend's wedding in 2003 - a friend who paid $150 to see U2 in 1997 - and she chose U2's "Elevation" as the song we walked into at the reception. The random dude I stood up with made some comment about it being the greatest song ever, and I commented that I didn't really like U2, which elicted a "what the hell is wrong with you" look and a "I don't think we can walk in together" response. That would've been fine with me.
Clearly, I'm supposed to like U2. And it's also supposed to pump me up. Since it does neither, I'm not normal.
But when I really think about it, I'm not normal compared to my fellow alums or maybe even my demographics.
My alma mater has a huge problem with binge drinking. They like to pretend they don't, but I've seen the statistics and they are waaaaaaaaay above the national average. But even if they were at the national average, popular culture tells me that I should've gotten drunk at least once in college. I've never been drunk in my life, and I don't understand why I should have been, or why others believe my college life was somehow unfulfilling.
My fellow alums often reminisce about their time at the bars and frat parties, and then discuss the local restaurant establishments they frequented after to get their greasy food fix. I also never did that. Oh, I went into the most infamous one once - a chili place where people went for the cracker throwing more than the food I think - but it was because I was babysitting drunkards and was seriously outnumbered. I can only imagine that one had to be drunk to eat there because that was the only possible way to be oblivious to the multiple health code violations and disgusting food. In fact, my alumni group has gone so far as to duplicate the chili recipe and have game watching parties where they eat that stuff voluntarily, while reminiscing about all the awesome times they had watching basketball, getting drunk, and eating chili - not necessarily in that order, though. I've insisted that we NOT do that again, largely because it's disgusting, but also because that was not my experience in college.
But you know, that's because I'm not normal.
As an adult, and as a professional, I've realized that being perceived as not normal has made me into the person that I am, and it is what makes me successful in my multiple roles in life. If I had followed my college peers, I probably wouldn't have ended up with my husband. I also wouldn't have soberly witnessed the drunken behavior of my classmates, and drawn attention to an ugly trend developing before the college administration wanted to acknowledge it was ugly - that my university has a problem with alcohol abuse. I also recognized that this trend wasn't college specific, like most in the the university community wanted to believe. Rather, research now shows that students engage in binge drinking behavior for years after they graduate from college. It's not about a "normal college experience" anymore - young adults are regularly drinking to get drunk. It's a growing trend and therefore "normal," but I am 100% confident that that behavior is not normal, nor is it healthy or safe.
My career path has certainly not followed a normal career trajectory, but in my profession, that's actually pretty normal. People tend to "fall into" what I do, rather than intentionally choose to work in student and academic affairs. I mean really, how many ten year olds think "I want to be an academic advisor when I grow up!" How many ten year olds know what an academic advisor is? Regardless of the path, the programs that I chose to work in are certainly not normal, especially considering my background. For one, I'm White. I'm sorry if that shocks you in some way - both that I am White and that I acknowledge it so bluntly - but I am. And the reality that I am White, and that I acknowledge that I am, actually means something in my profession because most of the students I serve are not White. I also grew up in a middle to upper middle class family and attended upper middle class schools. The students I serve generally come from low-income families and attend(ed) horrible schools - the kind that most in my profession don't believe exist. Thus, the perception is that I have nothing in common with my students, that I couldn't possibly understand their life experiences, and therefore there is no way I would be an effective advisor. And yet I am. I'm damn good. So maybe I'm not the "normal" advisor, but my students are successful, and that's all that matters. I choose to be abnormal and have my students graduate from college.
I've never really done what is perceived as normal. It's not because I intentionally went against the grain; I think I was largely unaware of what was happening around me. My dad used to tell me, "Be aware of your surroundings!" because I often lived in my imagination, and forgot to look out for things like traffic. Because of this fantasy land I created for myself, I didn't notice trends or patterns of behavior. I just did what seemed right for me in the world I created. And what was right for me was often different than what was right for a majority of other people. It meant that I was frequently teased and, when I did became aware that I was doing something that was not the socially-accepted "norm," I felt out of place or ostracized. Most frequently I felt misunderstood. I don't mean that in the "parents just don't understand" way, though I definitely felt that too. I mean it in the sense that I had an explanation as to why I made my choices or why I behaved in a certain way that seemed perfectly logical to me- but nobody bothered to ask me - or really, nobody bothered to listen or understand. And even though I sometimes felt like I didn't fit in, it wasn't enough for me to change who I was or what I believed in - or who I am and what I believe in. And I know that peer pressure should make me want to change, and that my resistance to doing so makes me weird, but I'm okay with it.
I guess that's just another reason I'm not normal.
I find the topics that trigger the abnormal comments very interesting. The one that triggered this post though was being surrounded by a bunch of other alums from my alma mater for our annual basketball game watching party at a local sports bar, and it had to do with the song that my alma mater plays during its introduction at the men's basketball games - "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2. This song has been played for years, and though the game operations people have changed it at various times over the years, the alumni feedback (read: complaints) have led to making "Streets" seemingly permanent. And the alums LOVE it.
I don't get it.
A) I don't understand how this song is a pump song, B) I don't understand how this is even an option for a basketball game in 2011. C) I don't like U2.
I know some fans have a Pavlovian response to the song because it was the intro song in the early part of the decade when the team went to the Final Four. I get that. But a lot has changed since then, including the coach of the team, not to mention the obvious change in roster. I can't imagine any of them get pumped by this song either.
Apparently this means I'm not normal.
I'm pretty sure there was some sort of law that that people my age had to pay $150 to see U2 in concert in 1997, but I don't like U2 and never really have. In fact, I remember standing up in my friend's wedding in 2003 - a friend who paid $150 to see U2 in 1997 - and she chose U2's "Elevation" as the song we walked into at the reception. The random dude I stood up with made some comment about it being the greatest song ever, and I commented that I didn't really like U2, which elicted a "what the hell is wrong with you" look and a "I don't think we can walk in together" response. That would've been fine with me.
Clearly, I'm supposed to like U2. And it's also supposed to pump me up. Since it does neither, I'm not normal.
But when I really think about it, I'm not normal compared to my fellow alums or maybe even my demographics.
My alma mater has a huge problem with binge drinking. They like to pretend they don't, but I've seen the statistics and they are waaaaaaaaay above the national average. But even if they were at the national average, popular culture tells me that I should've gotten drunk at least once in college. I've never been drunk in my life, and I don't understand why I should have been, or why others believe my college life was somehow unfulfilling.
My fellow alums often reminisce about their time at the bars and frat parties, and then discuss the local restaurant establishments they frequented after to get their greasy food fix. I also never did that. Oh, I went into the most infamous one once - a chili place where people went for the cracker throwing more than the food I think - but it was because I was babysitting drunkards and was seriously outnumbered. I can only imagine that one had to be drunk to eat there because that was the only possible way to be oblivious to the multiple health code violations and disgusting food. In fact, my alumni group has gone so far as to duplicate the chili recipe and have game watching parties where they eat that stuff voluntarily, while reminiscing about all the awesome times they had watching basketball, getting drunk, and eating chili - not necessarily in that order, though. I've insisted that we NOT do that again, largely because it's disgusting, but also because that was not my experience in college.
But you know, that's because I'm not normal.
As an adult, and as a professional, I've realized that being perceived as not normal has made me into the person that I am, and it is what makes me successful in my multiple roles in life. If I had followed my college peers, I probably wouldn't have ended up with my husband. I also wouldn't have soberly witnessed the drunken behavior of my classmates, and drawn attention to an ugly trend developing before the college administration wanted to acknowledge it was ugly - that my university has a problem with alcohol abuse. I also recognized that this trend wasn't college specific, like most in the the university community wanted to believe. Rather, research now shows that students engage in binge drinking behavior for years after they graduate from college. It's not about a "normal college experience" anymore - young adults are regularly drinking to get drunk. It's a growing trend and therefore "normal," but I am 100% confident that that behavior is not normal, nor is it healthy or safe.
My career path has certainly not followed a normal career trajectory, but in my profession, that's actually pretty normal. People tend to "fall into" what I do, rather than intentionally choose to work in student and academic affairs. I mean really, how many ten year olds think "I want to be an academic advisor when I grow up!" How many ten year olds know what an academic advisor is? Regardless of the path, the programs that I chose to work in are certainly not normal, especially considering my background. For one, I'm White. I'm sorry if that shocks you in some way - both that I am White and that I acknowledge it so bluntly - but I am. And the reality that I am White, and that I acknowledge that I am, actually means something in my profession because most of the students I serve are not White. I also grew up in a middle to upper middle class family and attended upper middle class schools. The students I serve generally come from low-income families and attend(ed) horrible schools - the kind that most in my profession don't believe exist. Thus, the perception is that I have nothing in common with my students, that I couldn't possibly understand their life experiences, and therefore there is no way I would be an effective advisor. And yet I am. I'm damn good. So maybe I'm not the "normal" advisor, but my students are successful, and that's all that matters. I choose to be abnormal and have my students graduate from college.
I've never really done what is perceived as normal. It's not because I intentionally went against the grain; I think I was largely unaware of what was happening around me. My dad used to tell me, "Be aware of your surroundings!" because I often lived in my imagination, and forgot to look out for things like traffic. Because of this fantasy land I created for myself, I didn't notice trends or patterns of behavior. I just did what seemed right for me in the world I created. And what was right for me was often different than what was right for a majority of other people. It meant that I was frequently teased and, when I did became aware that I was doing something that was not the socially-accepted "norm," I felt out of place or ostracized. Most frequently I felt misunderstood. I don't mean that in the "parents just don't understand" way, though I definitely felt that too. I mean it in the sense that I had an explanation as to why I made my choices or why I behaved in a certain way that seemed perfectly logical to me- but nobody bothered to ask me - or really, nobody bothered to listen or understand. And even though I sometimes felt like I didn't fit in, it wasn't enough for me to change who I was or what I believed in - or who I am and what I believe in. And I know that peer pressure should make me want to change, and that my resistance to doing so makes me weird, but I'm okay with it.
I guess that's just another reason I'm not normal.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I hate Valentine's Day
I have long hated Valentine's Day. It's not because I believe it's a Hallmark holiday. It's not because I'm single and don't have anybody to share the day with. I just
I don't remember many Valentine's Days before junior high, but I distinctly remember eighth grade. We had a Valentine's party during school - yes, just like the first graders do. We made card boxes so we could pass out those cheap valentines, and my teacher made a rule that we either pass them out to everyone in the class or pass the out to, in my case, just the girls. I suggested we forego valentines and a party done by our room mother and just watch a movie or have free time in the gym, to which my teacher told the class "[RHoC] doesn't want any valentines so you can give them to everybody but her."
Of course, that's not exactly what I said, and certainly not what I meant. But my teacher was a bully, and she wanted to punish me for challenging the status quo, so I shot back, "That's fine with me. I won't be giving them either, and I'll skip the party." And I held true to what I said. I didn't make a box. I didn't participate in the games. I didn't do the craft. I did my algebra homework instead and then read a book. I still got a few valentines, and I thanked the people who gave them to me, but otherwise I refused to acknowledge that it was Valentine's Day.
That same year, Valentine's Day fell on a Friday and we had a school dance. We were allowed to invite people from other schools, and one of my friends brought a boy from her former school. He developed a crush on one of our other friends, which led to them kissing on the dance floor, and me consoling the first friend in the bathroom for an hour. The second friend didn't think she had done anything wrong because she hadn't pursued the boy, and my two friends never reconciled. I remember thinking that one friend had just had the greatest Valentine's Day of her life, and the other one had the worst of her life, and that's just the way Valentine's Day worked. Not everyone has someone on Valentine's Day.
And for the record, the boy wasn't even cute. At all.
Valentine's Day just got worse in high school because it was a constant reminder of who had a special someone and who didn't. I attended an all-girls school for two years of high school, and it was tradition for boyfriends to send flowers and gifts to the school. My first year, girls were called down to the office all day to retrieve their tokens of affection and flaunt the fact that they had boyfriends. The jealousy from the other girls was palpable. Yes, Singles Awareness Day was alive and well in my high school. The second year, the school saved all the gifts until the end of the day so the single gals didn't have to be reminded of their singleness throughout the day, just when they walked by the office on the way home.
The reminders of having a special someone wasn't exclusive to boyfriends and girlfriends, however. I also had flower sales and candygrams to remind me of how many friends loved me too. Because that's the BS that Valentine's Day lovers try to sell - that Valentine's Day is about love in general, and that includes your friends and your family too. So my schools would sell different color roses or carnations - red for love, yellow for friend, and white or pink for secret admirer - and we'd carry those around all day as a status symbol. Really, who thought this was a good idea in high school? It was completely Singles Awareness Day - those who had a boyfriend or girlfriend carried a red flower and nobody else did - but it was also Popularity Awareness Day too. The popular kids had multiple yellow flowers to represent all their friends, while the outcasts had a couple or none at all. Those damn flowers were the equivalent of "Kick Me" signs, and yet another reminder that not everyone has someone on Valentine's Day.
I've had a romantic someone on Valentine's Day for the last fifteen years, but that hasn't translated to liking the holiday. My school experiences definitely shaped my perspective, but my opinion on the holiday also has to do with my expectations for romance. I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I'm a princess. My princess tendencies don't come across in my everyday life, but they certainly do in my romantic relationships. I expect to be put on a pedastal, and expect to be treated like I am the best girlfriend/wife ever, and I expect to be wooed daily. And while these princess tendencies appear to lend themselves to Valentine's Day, they actually directly contrast this day. Why? Because it's too easy.
Think about it: Valentine's Day is designed for idiot men to get romance right. Every store is advertising some sort of appropriate Valentine's Day gift. All the restaurants feature romantic Valentine's Day menus. Flowers are foolproof. Even blogs and magazines give ideas for perfect Valentine's Day presents. It's just too easy and really requires very little effort - buy flowers, buy chocolate, make reservation, etc. It's prescribed and tired. And as a princess, prescribed and tired is unacceptable.
I'm lucky because my husband spoils me daily. We go out to eat often, and we still "date" a few times each week. And if I really want to buy something special, my husband will get it for me or I'll just buy it for myself. I'm far too practical to take advantage of that fact, but I know it's true. I don't need a special day to express my love for my husband or to feel loved by my husband. We are intentional about expressing our love for each other - through words or actions - and I feel it every single day.
My practicality is another reason why I dislike Valentine's Day: Flowers don't cost as much as they do on Valentine's Day. Neither does that box of chocolates. Or that prix fixe menu. Every store and restaurant is taking advantage of the poor schlubs who are only romantic one day of the year and are therefore pressured to be romantic on this one day of the year that they're willing to pay $60 for flowers that only cost $19.99 the rest of the year. It's insane, and I refuse to be part of it.
I prefer my way: Take Valentine's Day off. I have no expectations of my husband on this day so he can't fail to deliver, but the other 364 days of the year, he is required to treat me like the princess that I am and he never fails. He gets to be romantic in his own way without some unrealistic expectations brought on by some "love holiday," and I get to feel loved and adored every single day! Oh sure, we've done things on Valentine's Day or said it was for Valentine's Day, but really, we'd do it anyway. For example, last weekend we took a road trip to DC to see our alma mater play basketball and said it was for Valentine's Day. Really, if it had been January 14th, we would've done it anyway. Calling it a Valentine's Day trip helps others understand and categorize us.
I'm also very aware that there are many people who don't have a Valentine, and much like my relationship with my husband, I don't like to wait for some prescribed holiday to make sure that these people feel loved. As much as some try to incorporate friends and family into Valentine's Day, I think the day is really Singles Awareness Day for a lot of single adolescents and adults. The love of a friend is not the same as the love of a partner, and it feels patronizing to associate friendship and family with Valentine's Day. I'm the same friend on February 13th as I am on February 14th so drawing attention to our relationship on Valentine's Day is counterproductive. And because I'm the same friend, I think it's important for me to acknowledge that my friend who wishes she had a boyfriend on February 11th may feel sad that she doesn't have one on February 14th and giving her extra attention isn't going to change that- as though me loving her makes up for the fact that she doesn't have a boyfriend. I'm just that fabulous! Right. I love my family, but it's not the same as the love I have for my husband. Sorry family.
So I'm going to have a Monday, and you can have whatever day you want. Just please don't shove your love down my throat, unless you're prepared to do it every other day as well.
I don't remember many Valentine's Days before junior high, but I distinctly remember eighth grade. We had a Valentine's party during school - yes, just like the first graders do. We made card boxes so we could pass out those cheap valentines, and my teacher made a rule that we either pass them out to everyone in the class or pass the out to, in my case, just the girls. I suggested we forego valentines and a party done by our room mother and just watch a movie or have free time in the gym, to which my teacher told the class "[RHoC] doesn't want any valentines so you can give them to everybody but her."
Of course, that's not exactly what I said, and certainly not what I meant. But my teacher was a bully, and she wanted to punish me for challenging the status quo, so I shot back, "That's fine with me. I won't be giving them either, and I'll skip the party." And I held true to what I said. I didn't make a box. I didn't participate in the games. I didn't do the craft. I did my algebra homework instead and then read a book. I still got a few valentines, and I thanked the people who gave them to me, but otherwise I refused to acknowledge that it was Valentine's Day.
That same year, Valentine's Day fell on a Friday and we had a school dance. We were allowed to invite people from other schools, and one of my friends brought a boy from her former school. He developed a crush on one of our other friends, which led to them kissing on the dance floor, and me consoling the first friend in the bathroom for an hour. The second friend didn't think she had done anything wrong because she hadn't pursued the boy, and my two friends never reconciled. I remember thinking that one friend had just had the greatest Valentine's Day of her life, and the other one had the worst of her life, and that's just the way Valentine's Day worked. Not everyone has someone on Valentine's Day.
And for the record, the boy wasn't even cute. At all.
Valentine's Day just got worse in high school because it was a constant reminder of who had a special someone and who didn't. I attended an all-girls school for two years of high school, and it was tradition for boyfriends to send flowers and gifts to the school. My first year, girls were called down to the office all day to retrieve their tokens of affection and flaunt the fact that they had boyfriends. The jealousy from the other girls was palpable. Yes, Singles Awareness Day was alive and well in my high school. The second year, the school saved all the gifts until the end of the day so the single gals didn't have to be reminded of their singleness throughout the day, just when they walked by the office on the way home.
The reminders of having a special someone wasn't exclusive to boyfriends and girlfriends, however. I also had flower sales and candygrams to remind me of how many friends loved me too. Because that's the BS that Valentine's Day lovers try to sell - that Valentine's Day is about love in general, and that includes your friends and your family too. So my schools would sell different color roses or carnations - red for love, yellow for friend, and white or pink for secret admirer - and we'd carry those around all day as a status symbol. Really, who thought this was a good idea in high school? It was completely Singles Awareness Day - those who had a boyfriend or girlfriend carried a red flower and nobody else did - but it was also Popularity Awareness Day too. The popular kids had multiple yellow flowers to represent all their friends, while the outcasts had a couple or none at all. Those damn flowers were the equivalent of "Kick Me" signs, and yet another reminder that not everyone has someone on Valentine's Day.
I've had a romantic someone on Valentine's Day for the last fifteen years, but that hasn't translated to liking the holiday. My school experiences definitely shaped my perspective, but my opinion on the holiday also has to do with my expectations for romance. I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I'm a princess. My princess tendencies don't come across in my everyday life, but they certainly do in my romantic relationships. I expect to be put on a pedastal, and expect to be treated like I am the best girlfriend/wife ever, and I expect to be wooed daily. And while these princess tendencies appear to lend themselves to Valentine's Day, they actually directly contrast this day. Why? Because it's too easy.
Think about it: Valentine's Day is designed for idiot men to get romance right. Every store is advertising some sort of appropriate Valentine's Day gift. All the restaurants feature romantic Valentine's Day menus. Flowers are foolproof. Even blogs and magazines give ideas for perfect Valentine's Day presents. It's just too easy and really requires very little effort - buy flowers, buy chocolate, make reservation, etc. It's prescribed and tired. And as a princess, prescribed and tired is unacceptable.
I'm lucky because my husband spoils me daily. We go out to eat often, and we still "date" a few times each week. And if I really want to buy something special, my husband will get it for me or I'll just buy it for myself. I'm far too practical to take advantage of that fact, but I know it's true. I don't need a special day to express my love for my husband or to feel loved by my husband. We are intentional about expressing our love for each other - through words or actions - and I feel it every single day.
My practicality is another reason why I dislike Valentine's Day: Flowers don't cost as much as they do on Valentine's Day. Neither does that box of chocolates. Or that prix fixe menu. Every store and restaurant is taking advantage of the poor schlubs who are only romantic one day of the year and are therefore pressured to be romantic on this one day of the year that they're willing to pay $60 for flowers that only cost $19.99 the rest of the year. It's insane, and I refuse to be part of it.
I prefer my way: Take Valentine's Day off. I have no expectations of my husband on this day so he can't fail to deliver, but the other 364 days of the year, he is required to treat me like the princess that I am and he never fails. He gets to be romantic in his own way without some unrealistic expectations brought on by some "love holiday," and I get to feel loved and adored every single day! Oh sure, we've done things on Valentine's Day or said it was for Valentine's Day, but really, we'd do it anyway. For example, last weekend we took a road trip to DC to see our alma mater play basketball and said it was for Valentine's Day. Really, if it had been January 14th, we would've done it anyway. Calling it a Valentine's Day trip helps others understand and categorize us.
I'm also very aware that there are many people who don't have a Valentine, and much like my relationship with my husband, I don't like to wait for some prescribed holiday to make sure that these people feel loved. As much as some try to incorporate friends and family into Valentine's Day, I think the day is really Singles Awareness Day for a lot of single adolescents and adults. The love of a friend is not the same as the love of a partner, and it feels patronizing to associate friendship and family with Valentine's Day. I'm the same friend on February 13th as I am on February 14th so drawing attention to our relationship on Valentine's Day is counterproductive. And because I'm the same friend, I think it's important for me to acknowledge that my friend who wishes she had a boyfriend on February 11th may feel sad that she doesn't have one on February 14th and giving her extra attention isn't going to change that- as though me loving her makes up for the fact that she doesn't have a boyfriend. I'm just that fabulous! Right. I love my family, but it's not the same as the love I have for my husband. Sorry family.
So I'm going to have a Monday, and you can have whatever day you want. Just please don't shove your love down my throat, unless you're prepared to do it every other day as well.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Last night I saw... what was my point?
Yes, I am aware I haven't blogged in a while.
I have tried to write, really I have, but I've been losing steam. I start a post and halfway through I forget my point, or realize I have no point, or just get tired of typing and log out of blogger. That used to happen to me occasionally, but now it happens every time I sit down to blog. I thought maybe it was because I didn't have much to say, but that's not true - I have lots of ideas. So what the heck is wrong with me?
Oh yeah. I have ADHD.
I am exhausted all the time. It's not the lack of sleep thing anymore - I've sorta developed a schedule. This is more mental exhaustion than physical exhaustion, and it's because I exert an extraordinary amount of mental energy trying to stay focused and on-task during the day that I am completely wiped out by the time I get home. Consequently, my brain does what it does naturally - gets bored easily, loses focus, and bounces from idea to idea. Unfortunately, it also means that I can't stay on task long enough to finish an entire blog post. I'm getting incredibly frustrated just writing these few paragraphs, and this is pretty short compared to the other stuff I've been writing.
I have a bunch of brilliant posts in progress I promise. Maybe someday I'll actually finish them...
I have tried to write, really I have, but I've been losing steam. I start a post and halfway through I forget my point, or realize I have no point, or just get tired of typing and log out of blogger. That used to happen to me occasionally, but now it happens every time I sit down to blog. I thought maybe it was because I didn't have much to say, but that's not true - I have lots of ideas. So what the heck is wrong with me?
Oh yeah. I have ADHD.
I am exhausted all the time. It's not the lack of sleep thing anymore - I've sorta developed a schedule. This is more mental exhaustion than physical exhaustion, and it's because I exert an extraordinary amount of mental energy trying to stay focused and on-task during the day that I am completely wiped out by the time I get home. Consequently, my brain does what it does naturally - gets bored easily, loses focus, and bounces from idea to idea. Unfortunately, it also means that I can't stay on task long enough to finish an entire blog post. I'm getting incredibly frustrated just writing these few paragraphs, and this is pretty short compared to the other stuff I've been writing.
I have a bunch of brilliant posts in progress I promise. Maybe someday I'll actually finish them...
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Put my money where my mouth is
On my one-year anniversary of moving to Charlotte, I reflected on how I'd changed during my year of being a housewife in Charlotte. In that post, I noted that my priorities had shifted and that I didn't think I'd ever move again to benefit my career unless I was certain my husband would benefit as well. I've told my husband something similar many times, and have also told him that if an amazing career opportunity presents itself to him and we have to move again, I will support him 100% and follow him wherever he goes.
Well, it may be time to put my money where my mouth is.
I have not been offered a job anywhere else, but I did just start a job in Charlotte. My husband, on the other hand, was offered a job in Wisconsin where we used to live. It's an exciting opportunity for him, and one that seems to be a natural fit for his skills and experience and personality. I couldn't be happier for him or more proud of him.
It couldn't be worse timing for me.
As I mentioned before, my job isn't my dream job, or even especially challenging. It is a job, however, and I like what I'm doing. And I'm very good at it. The thought of leaving my job after just a few weeks, of starting the job hunting process over again, of potentially being a housewife again ... it's a little overwhelming. I'm not sure that I want to do it again.
And I hate snow. It was 60 degrees here on Wednesday. I doubt that will happen in January in Wisconsin.
My husband is not happy in his job here, and I don't blame him. He's taken quite a few hits and he's frankly outgrown his job. He deserves better and he's earned the opportunity that he's been offered in Wisconsin. Even if we decide to stay in Charlotte, I doubt he'll stay at his company. I don't want him to stay there. But that opens up a door of even more unknowns because we don't know when he'll find something new and if he'll even like it if he does.
But I just started my job.
But we would be closer to family and friends which is very appealing.
But I love Charlotte. There I said it. I love Charlotte. Charlotte has been good for me. Granted, this may all change now that I'm not strictly a housewife, but thus far, I'm still enjoying my life in Charlotte.
I don't know what it will be like in Wisconsin this time around. I don't know if I'll have a job, or if I'll be satisfied being a housewife in Wisconsin until I can find a job. I know I won't have my country club, but I will have other things that I don't have here, like my family and friend's houses to go visit instead.
My husband and I have a lot to think about and talk about this weekend.
Well, it may be time to put my money where my mouth is.
I have not been offered a job anywhere else, but I did just start a job in Charlotte. My husband, on the other hand, was offered a job in Wisconsin where we used to live. It's an exciting opportunity for him, and one that seems to be a natural fit for his skills and experience and personality. I couldn't be happier for him or more proud of him.
It couldn't be worse timing for me.
As I mentioned before, my job isn't my dream job, or even especially challenging. It is a job, however, and I like what I'm doing. And I'm very good at it. The thought of leaving my job after just a few weeks, of starting the job hunting process over again, of potentially being a housewife again ... it's a little overwhelming. I'm not sure that I want to do it again.
And I hate snow. It was 60 degrees here on Wednesday. I doubt that will happen in January in Wisconsin.
My husband is not happy in his job here, and I don't blame him. He's taken quite a few hits and he's frankly outgrown his job. He deserves better and he's earned the opportunity that he's been offered in Wisconsin. Even if we decide to stay in Charlotte, I doubt he'll stay at his company. I don't want him to stay there. But that opens up a door of even more unknowns because we don't know when he'll find something new and if he'll even like it if he does.
But I just started my job.
But we would be closer to family and friends which is very appealing.
But I love Charlotte. There I said it. I love Charlotte. Charlotte has been good for me. Granted, this may all change now that I'm not strictly a housewife, but thus far, I'm still enjoying my life in Charlotte.
I don't know what it will be like in Wisconsin this time around. I don't know if I'll have a job, or if I'll be satisfied being a housewife in Wisconsin until I can find a job. I know I won't have my country club, but I will have other things that I don't have here, like my family and friend's houses to go visit instead.
My husband and I have a lot to think about and talk about this weekend.
Monday, January 17, 2011
I hate Snow
Last week I enjoyed the three inches of snow that kept me home from work for three days. Today I hate the snow that delayed my husband's flight so that he missed his connection to get back home to Charlotte. Instead of coming home tonight and spending the night with me, working all day, and flying out again tomorrow, he'll just be staying in Michigan all week. I guess it's convenient that his connection was through Detroit.
I hate you, Snow.
But I think my husband hates you more.
I've had enough of winter. I'm ready to wear sandals again (my toes are painted lime green and I want to show them off!) I know my winter has been nothing compared to what I could have if I lived in the Midwest, but I've had enough to remind me that I don't like winter. At all.
I wonder if there are any job openings at the University of the Virgin Islands.
I lived in the Midwest my entire life and I always disliked winter, but it never really bothered me. It actually bothers me now. I hate seeing temperatures drop below 40 degrees, I hate snow and ice and slush, and I hate heavy coats and hats and gloves. I hate shoveling and scraping and chopping ice. I hate being cold.
But most of all, I hate that at this time of year, the weather always seems to interfere with travel plans.
I'm ready for Summer.
I hate you, Snow.
But I think my husband hates you more.
I've had enough of winter. I'm ready to wear sandals again (my toes are painted lime green and I want to show them off!) I know my winter has been nothing compared to what I could have if I lived in the Midwest, but I've had enough to remind me that I don't like winter. At all.
I wonder if there are any job openings at the University of the Virgin Islands.
I lived in the Midwest my entire life and I always disliked winter, but it never really bothered me. It actually bothers me now. I hate seeing temperatures drop below 40 degrees, I hate snow and ice and slush, and I hate heavy coats and hats and gloves. I hate shoveling and scraping and chopping ice. I hate being cold.
But most of all, I hate that at this time of year, the weather always seems to interfere with travel plans.
I'm ready for Summer.
ADHD, medication, and motherhood - Part 2
In Part 1 of this post, I gave some background about my struggle with ADHD and the conflict I felt between taking medication to advance my career at the expense of becoming a mother. Even though that post has no comments, I've received more feedback and emails about it than any other post I've written. I interpreted that to mean that I touched on a couple of important issues for women, but these are issues that we're still not comfortable discussing publicly. For that reason, I think this is going to be an issue I'll be revisiting often, but hopefully from a different angle each time.
This post is going to pick up where I left off last time and fill you in on my thought process while I was making my decision. I was considering whether to take medication for my ADHD. I left off wondering whether a PhD and a career in academia would be fulfilling or if I would regret not having children. I sought out advice and guidance from others, but encountered more frustration than support.
I'm a reflective and instinctive person by nature, so even though I talked about my struggle with others, I knew that my answer would have to come from what I was feeling and not what I was thinking. On an intellectual level, I knew there were women who balanced work and family. I knew medication could be a short-term solution and that I could stop if I were to get pregnant or wanted to get pregnant. I knew I was legally entitled to disability accommodations. I also knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, that ADHD is real despite the public misperceptions. Intellectually, I understood this.
My intelligence and rationality couldn't overcome my gut feelings, however. I knew there were women who balanced work and family, but I felt like my ADHD would never allow me to fully balance the two in a way that would work long-term. I knew that I could stop taking medication to have a baby, but I've always felt that I will have difficulty getting pregnant and that "medication break" could extend for years. I also knew that even though I had a right to accommodations, the faculty looked down on me for asking for them and they treated me like I was dumb or incompetent. Even though I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, I felt ashamed.
On the other hand, I didn't have the biological drive toward motherhood that I thought I should or that I felt I should. Kids bugged me. That's not entirely true. I adore my niece and nephew (they're the greatest kids ever but I'm sure I think that because I get to spoil them, feed them sugar, and send them back to their parents) and I enjoy spending time with my friends and their kids. I don't enjoy the temper tantrums or the child-centered conversations or the general adjustment of my life to suit the needs of kids. As much as my breeding friends assured me that having children was worth all the sacrifices, they often expressed jealousy at my life and resentment toward theirs, especially when I got to do things they wished they could do, from the simple, like going out to nice dinners whenever I wanted, to the extravagant, like going to Spain. I couldn't ignore those feelings either. I love my friends, but I did not want to become them.
All of these issues created the confusion and the conflict I felt, but my husband was really the one underlying force behind my decision-making. He has always been incredibly supportive and encouraging of my career path, but I also know that he wants children. In a lot of ways, he is a big kid and for a while I was concerned that I would end up parenting my husband and my child, rather than have a partner in raising a child. That concern was misguided. He will be an amazing dad and any child will be lucky to have him as a father.
My hesitations had more to do with his job demands than any concerns about his parenting skills. His job is incredibly unpredictable in terms of hours and travel, so I can't always count on him to be home at a certain time. This is annoying but generally fine when it's just the two of us, but if there was a child involved, I don't think it would be okay. There could easily be days when he wouldn't see our kids, leaving me as the primary caretaker for the kids. Of course I could have help - I would need help - but I also know that help doesn't come cheap and I'd probably be working to pay for a nanny. I know my work would suffer because I couldn't be at every meeting, go to every conference, or travel to collect my data because I wouldn't have the flexibility. One of us would need to have a job that had consistent hours, jobs that didn't require a fifty-plus hour time commitment each week. I knew faculty jobs - especially tenure-track faculty jobs - wouldn't meet this criteria. I knew my husband would never be satisfied in a job that fit that criteria either.
As much as I believe in and am thankful for women's liberation and equal rights, the reality is that marriage isn't about equality - it's about partnership. Sometimes one person has to make a sacrifice in order to do what is best for both spouses. In our case, one of us was going to have to sacrifice our career ambitions in order for us to have a family. When I honestly looked at the dual-career couples in my field who were making it work, I saw that one person had a stable 9 to 5 job and the other had the PhD, and I knew that would never be my husband and me if we continued on our current paths.
So in addition to the concerns I had about taking medication and what that meant for me professionally and personally, I also had to decide if we did have a child, could I ask my husband to give up his career so I could pursue mine, or was I willing to give up mine so he could pursue his?
Stay tuned...
This post is going to pick up where I left off last time and fill you in on my thought process while I was making my decision. I was considering whether to take medication for my ADHD. I left off wondering whether a PhD and a career in academia would be fulfilling or if I would regret not having children. I sought out advice and guidance from others, but encountered more frustration than support.
I'm a reflective and instinctive person by nature, so even though I talked about my struggle with others, I knew that my answer would have to come from what I was feeling and not what I was thinking. On an intellectual level, I knew there were women who balanced work and family. I knew medication could be a short-term solution and that I could stop if I were to get pregnant or wanted to get pregnant. I knew I was legally entitled to disability accommodations. I also knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, that ADHD is real despite the public misperceptions. Intellectually, I understood this.
My intelligence and rationality couldn't overcome my gut feelings, however. I knew there were women who balanced work and family, but I felt like my ADHD would never allow me to fully balance the two in a way that would work long-term. I knew that I could stop taking medication to have a baby, but I've always felt that I will have difficulty getting pregnant and that "medication break" could extend for years. I also knew that even though I had a right to accommodations, the faculty looked down on me for asking for them and they treated me like I was dumb or incompetent. Even though I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, I felt ashamed.
On the other hand, I didn't have the biological drive toward motherhood that I thought I should or that I felt I should. Kids bugged me. That's not entirely true. I adore my niece and nephew (they're the greatest kids ever but I'm sure I think that because I get to spoil them, feed them sugar, and send them back to their parents) and I enjoy spending time with my friends and their kids. I don't enjoy the temper tantrums or the child-centered conversations or the general adjustment of my life to suit the needs of kids. As much as my breeding friends assured me that having children was worth all the sacrifices, they often expressed jealousy at my life and resentment toward theirs, especially when I got to do things they wished they could do, from the simple, like going out to nice dinners whenever I wanted, to the extravagant, like going to Spain. I couldn't ignore those feelings either. I love my friends, but I did not want to become them.
All of these issues created the confusion and the conflict I felt, but my husband was really the one underlying force behind my decision-making. He has always been incredibly supportive and encouraging of my career path, but I also know that he wants children. In a lot of ways, he is a big kid and for a while I was concerned that I would end up parenting my husband and my child, rather than have a partner in raising a child. That concern was misguided. He will be an amazing dad and any child will be lucky to have him as a father.
My hesitations had more to do with his job demands than any concerns about his parenting skills. His job is incredibly unpredictable in terms of hours and travel, so I can't always count on him to be home at a certain time. This is annoying but generally fine when it's just the two of us, but if there was a child involved, I don't think it would be okay. There could easily be days when he wouldn't see our kids, leaving me as the primary caretaker for the kids. Of course I could have help - I would need help - but I also know that help doesn't come cheap and I'd probably be working to pay for a nanny. I know my work would suffer because I couldn't be at every meeting, go to every conference, or travel to collect my data because I wouldn't have the flexibility. One of us would need to have a job that had consistent hours, jobs that didn't require a fifty-plus hour time commitment each week. I knew faculty jobs - especially tenure-track faculty jobs - wouldn't meet this criteria. I knew my husband would never be satisfied in a job that fit that criteria either.
As much as I believe in and am thankful for women's liberation and equal rights, the reality is that marriage isn't about equality - it's about partnership. Sometimes one person has to make a sacrifice in order to do what is best for both spouses. In our case, one of us was going to have to sacrifice our career ambitions in order for us to have a family. When I honestly looked at the dual-career couples in my field who were making it work, I saw that one person had a stable 9 to 5 job and the other had the PhD, and I knew that would never be my husband and me if we continued on our current paths.
So in addition to the concerns I had about taking medication and what that meant for me professionally and personally, I also had to decide if we did have a child, could I ask my husband to give up his career so I could pursue mine, or was I willing to give up mine so he could pursue his?
Stay tuned...
Why I'll never join Weight Watchers
My sister-in-law joined Weight Watchers and is having great success on the program. In six weeks, she's lost 26 pounds. How do I know this? She told me. Every five seconds. For three days straight.
My sister-in-law is diabetic, so losing weight is a big deal for her. She's been able to avoid insulin, and reduced the amount of medications signficantly. I'm very happy for her, and I told her that. I thought that would be the end of the conversation.
Oh how wrong I was.
At dinner, she told me the news. Later on in the dinner, she told me she was cold because she's lost 26 pounds. Still later, for no reason that I can ascertain, she told me again. Later, after we'd made our plans for the following day, she realized she had to change the plans because she had a meeting she'd forgotten about - she was doing Weight Watchers and she had to go to a meeting, and her normal meeting fell on Christmas so she had to find a new meeting. And she had to go to the meeting because she's lost 26 pounds already and reduced her medications.
In case she hadn't already mentioned it.
The next day, we had to scrap our original plans to accomodate her meeting (I was fine with that). We had drama to deal with trying to coordinate everyone's schedules and preferences, namely from my mother-in-law, and made a new plan and then headed out to lunch together. And then came the menu selection and determination of number of points of each entree - because my sister-in-law was doing Weight Watchers, the new plan that Jennifer Hudson followed to lose her weight, and she'd already lost 26 pounds in six weeks. Then we went shopping, and she was trying to find new clothes because nothing fit because guess what? She lost 26 pounds in six weeks doing Weight Watchers.
I think Weight Watchers is a cult.
I don't know if it's the commercials or the meetings, but this seems to be a common thread for anybody I've known who has done Weight Watchers (or really followed any specific weight loss plan that is working). They talk about it constantly, and want everybody around them to know that A) they've joined Weight Watchers, and B) how much weight they've lost as a result of their participation in the cult. The constant need to share and talk about food and exercise and points and their program concerns me. Being conscious of what you're eating is one thing - obsessing about it is completely different.
Plus, I really don't care.
I don't tell people I don't care - at least not to their faces. I'm happy for people who set a goal and obtain it, I really am, and I will tell them that I am. But I won't ask for details, and I generally won't reciprocate with my own story. I will occassionally share if I think it's important to a story I'm going to tell, such as stories of gym whores knocking out the power on my treadmill or, more likely, because I want to complain. But generally speaking, I don't like to talk about exercising (because I hate it) or a weight loss journey (because I'm not on one). To me, asking about that stuff is like asking if I shaved my legs today (no, I didn't and they're very hairy. Aren't you glad you asked?). It's a task to be checked off, but does not need to be discussed regularly. And it's none of anyone else's business to ask. I'll share if I want. Otherwise, back off.
I'm pretty sure I feel this way because of my social work background, and the time I've spent around people with eating disorders and addictions. I'm sensitive to the relationships people have with food and exercise and counting calories, and I worry about people who display obsessive thought patterns about the topic. It's not healthy to think about food and exercise constantly - it's not healthy to think about any one thing constantly. And I distinctly remember that group therapy for eating disorders can be dangerous, especially for young women, because the group members sometimes try to one-up each other on who consumed the fewest calories or exercised the longest. It's a slippery slope from support to competition, which only exacerbates the overwhelming desire for control and perfection that is commonly exhibited by people with eating disorders. So the more someone wants to talk about exercise or food or weight loss, the more I suspect all is not well.
I am the opposite of what most health and fitness experts (or just random people who write about health and fitness) say: I don't want your support. I don't want to share my goals. I don't want to be held accountable. The more you ask, the less motivated I become. In fact, I'll think you're nosy. And I'll assume you're projecting your own issues on me, and I'll probably diagnose you with an eating disorder.
So I highly doubt you'll ever see me at a Weight Watchers meeting. But congratulations if it's working for you. Just please don't tell me about it.
My sister-in-law is diabetic, so losing weight is a big deal for her. She's been able to avoid insulin, and reduced the amount of medications signficantly. I'm very happy for her, and I told her that. I thought that would be the end of the conversation.
Oh how wrong I was.
At dinner, she told me the news. Later on in the dinner, she told me she was cold because she's lost 26 pounds. Still later, for no reason that I can ascertain, she told me again. Later, after we'd made our plans for the following day, she realized she had to change the plans because she had a meeting she'd forgotten about - she was doing Weight Watchers and she had to go to a meeting, and her normal meeting fell on Christmas so she had to find a new meeting. And she had to go to the meeting because she's lost 26 pounds already and reduced her medications.
In case she hadn't already mentioned it.
The next day, we had to scrap our original plans to accomodate her meeting (I was fine with that). We had drama to deal with trying to coordinate everyone's schedules and preferences, namely from my mother-in-law, and made a new plan and then headed out to lunch together. And then came the menu selection and determination of number of points of each entree - because my sister-in-law was doing Weight Watchers, the new plan that Jennifer Hudson followed to lose her weight, and she'd already lost 26 pounds in six weeks. Then we went shopping, and she was trying to find new clothes because nothing fit because guess what? She lost 26 pounds in six weeks doing Weight Watchers.
I think Weight Watchers is a cult.
I don't know if it's the commercials or the meetings, but this seems to be a common thread for anybody I've known who has done Weight Watchers (or really followed any specific weight loss plan that is working). They talk about it constantly, and want everybody around them to know that A) they've joined Weight Watchers, and B) how much weight they've lost as a result of their participation in the cult. The constant need to share and talk about food and exercise and points and their program concerns me. Being conscious of what you're eating is one thing - obsessing about it is completely different.
Plus, I really don't care.
I don't tell people I don't care - at least not to their faces. I'm happy for people who set a goal and obtain it, I really am, and I will tell them that I am. But I won't ask for details, and I generally won't reciprocate with my own story. I will occassionally share if I think it's important to a story I'm going to tell, such as stories of gym whores knocking out the power on my treadmill or, more likely, because I want to complain. But generally speaking, I don't like to talk about exercising (because I hate it) or a weight loss journey (because I'm not on one). To me, asking about that stuff is like asking if I shaved my legs today (no, I didn't and they're very hairy. Aren't you glad you asked?). It's a task to be checked off, but does not need to be discussed regularly. And it's none of anyone else's business to ask. I'll share if I want. Otherwise, back off.
I'm pretty sure I feel this way because of my social work background, and the time I've spent around people with eating disorders and addictions. I'm sensitive to the relationships people have with food and exercise and counting calories, and I worry about people who display obsessive thought patterns about the topic. It's not healthy to think about food and exercise constantly - it's not healthy to think about any one thing constantly. And I distinctly remember that group therapy for eating disorders can be dangerous, especially for young women, because the group members sometimes try to one-up each other on who consumed the fewest calories or exercised the longest. It's a slippery slope from support to competition, which only exacerbates the overwhelming desire for control and perfection that is commonly exhibited by people with eating disorders. So the more someone wants to talk about exercise or food or weight loss, the more I suspect all is not well.
I am the opposite of what most health and fitness experts (or just random people who write about health and fitness) say: I don't want your support. I don't want to share my goals. I don't want to be held accountable. The more you ask, the less motivated I become. In fact, I'll think you're nosy. And I'll assume you're projecting your own issues on me, and I'll probably diagnose you with an eating disorder.
So I highly doubt you'll ever see me at a Weight Watchers meeting. But congratulations if it's working for you. Just please don't tell me about it.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Do.
I have nothing to say today because all I can think about is what I want to DO today.
I've been procrastinating on putting away the Christmas decorations because the house just seems so sad when they all go away. It's time though. Boo.
I want to go to the grocery store. I've spent the last two days watching the Food Network and reading a bunch of food blogs, and now I'm itching to try a new recipe or two. I actually have time to cook and I want to take advantage of it!
I have a resume to send out. Yes, I realize I just got a job. It's a long story, and I'll write more about this situation this weekend.
I need to hit the gym. My gym has been closed for the last two days and won't be opening until noon today because of the snow and ice. Mondays are my normal days off so that was fine, and I really didn't care about yesterday either, but I know I should go today. Should go, not want to go. I miss water aerobics.
I want to enjoy another unexpected day off. I know I'm lucky to have these snow days, and I want to take advantage of them when they roll around. This is a chance for me to do all the things I've been putting off or haven't had the time to do.
Time to stop writing and start doing!
I've been procrastinating on putting away the Christmas decorations because the house just seems so sad when they all go away. It's time though. Boo.
I want to go to the grocery store. I've spent the last two days watching the Food Network and reading a bunch of food blogs, and now I'm itching to try a new recipe or two. I actually have time to cook and I want to take advantage of it!
I have a resume to send out. Yes, I realize I just got a job. It's a long story, and I'll write more about this situation this weekend.
I need to hit the gym. My gym has been closed for the last two days and won't be opening until noon today because of the snow and ice. Mondays are my normal days off so that was fine, and I really didn't care about yesterday either, but I know I should go today. Should go, not want to go. I miss water aerobics.
I want to enjoy another unexpected day off. I know I'm lucky to have these snow days, and I want to take advantage of them when they roll around. This is a chance for me to do all the things I've been putting off or haven't had the time to do.
Time to stop writing and start doing!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Christmas gift idea 5: Support your favorite blogger!
I may have outdone myself this year. I think I'm retiring as a gift giver.
My favorite blogger, by far, is Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half. She's absolutely hilarious and you need to follow her immediately. You're not going to learn anything crafty or find ideas for dinner, but you will laugh your head off. And if you're me, you'll find ideas for Christmas presents.
You see, Allie has a store where she sells t-shirts and mugs and other things with her drawings on them. And I love them, and I love her, and I don't want her to be homeless, so I bought something from her.
Let me back up:
At some point last year, probably over the summer, my sister Lucy was bored at work. Normally when she is bored at work, we chat online. However, on this particular day I was busy doing work so I couldn't entertain her. Instead, I directed her to Hyperbole and a Half and told her to entertain herself by reading the posts. The most recent post was Dog, but I told her if she didn't want to read that one, she absolutely had to read the one before it, entitled This Is Why I'll Never Be an Adult. I know Allie says that it is about her, but I'm pretty sure that it was written about me.
Then Lucy and I had this conversation:
Lucy: Do I have to read it? It's so long.
Me: Yes, read it. You'll thank me later.
Lucy: (Five minutes later). That is freaking hilarious.
Me: I told you. Don't ever doubt my abilities to find awesome ways to procrastinate.
And she was hooked.
Once I realized that Allie had a store, I knew I had to get something for Lucy. Because I introduced the blog to her as a way to procrastinate, I thought something about procrastination or responsibility would be appropriate. Ultimately I decided to draw inspiration from this post, and bought her the Responsibility Champion mug.
Because Lucy gets shit done. Or pretends to anyway.
Like the stapler in jello and Gilmore Girls cookbook, the idea behind the gift is something I share with the gift receiver. My sister and I love this blog and have gotten hours of entertainment from it, so I thought it was only appropriate to give a gift to commemorate this time in our lives. My intention was for her to use it at home or work, of course, but really to have her smile whenever she looked at or used it. And hopefully think of me.
A lot of bloggers have etsy or zazzle shops, so I encourage you to look at their shops and give gifts from your favorite bloggers. The money goes to someone you support and believe in, and has a personalized touch, even if you didn't make it yourself.
Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, if I ever have a kid, I want this:
My favorite blogger, by far, is Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half. She's absolutely hilarious and you need to follow her immediately. You're not going to learn anything crafty or find ideas for dinner, but you will laugh your head off. And if you're me, you'll find ideas for Christmas presents.
You see, Allie has a store where she sells t-shirts and mugs and other things with her drawings on them. And I love them, and I love her, and I don't want her to be homeless, so I bought something from her.
Let me back up:
At some point last year, probably over the summer, my sister Lucy was bored at work. Normally when she is bored at work, we chat online. However, on this particular day I was busy doing work so I couldn't entertain her. Instead, I directed her to Hyperbole and a Half and told her to entertain herself by reading the posts. The most recent post was Dog, but I told her if she didn't want to read that one, she absolutely had to read the one before it, entitled This Is Why I'll Never Be an Adult. I know Allie says that it is about her, but I'm pretty sure that it was written about me.
Then Lucy and I had this conversation:
Lucy: Do I have to read it? It's so long.
Me: Yes, read it. You'll thank me later.
Lucy: (Five minutes later). That is freaking hilarious.
Me: I told you. Don't ever doubt my abilities to find awesome ways to procrastinate.
And she was hooked.
Once I realized that Allie had a store, I knew I had to get something for Lucy. Because I introduced the blog to her as a way to procrastinate, I thought something about procrastination or responsibility would be appropriate. Ultimately I decided to draw inspiration from this post, and bought her the Responsibility Champion mug.
Because Lucy gets shit done. Or pretends to anyway.
Like the stapler in jello and Gilmore Girls cookbook, the idea behind the gift is something I share with the gift receiver. My sister and I love this blog and have gotten hours of entertainment from it, so I thought it was only appropriate to give a gift to commemorate this time in our lives. My intention was for her to use it at home or work, of course, but really to have her smile whenever she looked at or used it. And hopefully think of me.
A lot of bloggers have etsy or zazzle shops, so I encourage you to look at their shops and give gifts from your favorite bloggers. The money goes to someone you support and believe in, and has a personalized touch, even if you didn't make it yourself.
Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, if I ever have a kid, I want this:
 |
| I (heart) U Alot Infant Creeper from Hyperbole and a Half Zazzle store |
Feel free to post your favorite bloggers and their shops (or yours) in the comments section!
Date night at Vida
Greetings from a snowy Charlotte!
We have a snow day today and it's a legitimate snow day, not a fake southern snowstorm. Now, if this was happening in the Midwest, it would be business as usual - it's predicted to be 2-4 inches with some freezing rain this afternoon. Thankfully, this is Charlotte and people in Charlotte freak out when they see the white stuff falling from the sky so I'm getting a paid holiday. Hooray!
And hooray for you because you get a Monday morning blog.
I had a great weekend. I didn't do much, but I did get to hang out with my husband a lot. In fact, we went on a date. In fact, he asked me out on a date. Saturday morning, while we were driving back from the gym, my husband asked, "Can I take you out to dinner tonight?"
My husband and I go out on a lot of "dates" in that we go out to dinner a lot, but these dates usually originate with "I don't feel like cooking. Let's go out." I think that is a lot different than my husband actually asking me to go out. I don't care how long I've been married, I will always like being asked out on a date.
We went to Vida Mexican Kitchen y Cantina in the Epicentre in Uptown Charlotte. I love Mexican food, and after living in Michigan which had absolutely NO Mexican food, I appreciate any decent attempts at authentic Mexican cuisine. My husband is generally not a fan, but he's lived with me long enough that I've convinced him that he does like it despite twenty-some years of evidence to the contrary.
Vida definitely exceeded my expectations. Typical of restaurants in the Epicentre, the restaurant itself looked upscale which adds to the total dining experience. They offer tableside guacamole which was great. At first, I thought it needed more salt, but after our waiter brought us a fresh batch of tortilla chips, I realized it was the chips and not the guacamole that needed seasoning. We also shared a red chile chicken chopped salad, which was good but nothing special, and chicken tinga, which was outstanding. It's chicken and chorizo simmered in tomatoes that created a spicy stew that we ate with tortillas. Y-U-M. After one bite I told my husband that I had to learn how to make it, and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. We also shared a mango crisp which is exactly like apple crisp but with mango, and that makes it even better. The service was okay - not awesome, but it didn't detract from the overall meal - but the food definitely made up for it. Plus, the prices weren't outrageous. I'm told this place has excellent tequila and margaritas, but we didn't try anything. Maybe next time!
I highly recommend checking this place out - I think it's one of my favorite restaurants in Charlotte, and I like a lot of Charlotte restaurants. Make a reservation though (the restaurant is on Open Table) if you're going on a Friday or Saturday night because it gets crowded - probably because it's a great place to go on a date.
We have a snow day today and it's a legitimate snow day, not a fake southern snowstorm. Now, if this was happening in the Midwest, it would be business as usual - it's predicted to be 2-4 inches with some freezing rain this afternoon. Thankfully, this is Charlotte and people in Charlotte freak out when they see the white stuff falling from the sky so I'm getting a paid holiday. Hooray!
And hooray for you because you get a Monday morning blog.
I had a great weekend. I didn't do much, but I did get to hang out with my husband a lot. In fact, we went on a date. In fact, he asked me out on a date. Saturday morning, while we were driving back from the gym, my husband asked, "Can I take you out to dinner tonight?"
My husband and I go out on a lot of "dates" in that we go out to dinner a lot, but these dates usually originate with "I don't feel like cooking. Let's go out." I think that is a lot different than my husband actually asking me to go out. I don't care how long I've been married, I will always like being asked out on a date.
We went to Vida Mexican Kitchen y Cantina in the Epicentre in Uptown Charlotte. I love Mexican food, and after living in Michigan which had absolutely NO Mexican food, I appreciate any decent attempts at authentic Mexican cuisine. My husband is generally not a fan, but he's lived with me long enough that I've convinced him that he does like it despite twenty-some years of evidence to the contrary.
Vida definitely exceeded my expectations. Typical of restaurants in the Epicentre, the restaurant itself looked upscale which adds to the total dining experience. They offer tableside guacamole which was great. At first, I thought it needed more salt, but after our waiter brought us a fresh batch of tortilla chips, I realized it was the chips and not the guacamole that needed seasoning. We also shared a red chile chicken chopped salad, which was good but nothing special, and chicken tinga, which was outstanding. It's chicken and chorizo simmered in tomatoes that created a spicy stew that we ate with tortillas. Y-U-M. After one bite I told my husband that I had to learn how to make it, and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. We also shared a mango crisp which is exactly like apple crisp but with mango, and that makes it even better. The service was okay - not awesome, but it didn't detract from the overall meal - but the food definitely made up for it. Plus, the prices weren't outrageous. I'm told this place has excellent tequila and margaritas, but we didn't try anything. Maybe next time!
I highly recommend checking this place out - I think it's one of my favorite restaurants in Charlotte, and I like a lot of Charlotte restaurants. Make a reservation though (the restaurant is on Open Table) if you're going on a Friday or Saturday night because it gets crowded - probably because it's a great place to go on a date.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Not a housewife?
I apologize for being MIA recently, but I honestly have a good reason - I got a job! I'm back working in higher education, helping at-risk students get through college. This is what I've done for many years so while it feels good to be back doing what I love to do, it's not exactly new and challenging. It does require me to get up at the crack of dawn, however, and since I'm not exactly a morning person, getting out of bed at 5:30am and managing to stay awake all day is a huge challenge.
This is why I haven't had much time to blog - not because I'm exhausted from my busy day at work, but because I feel like I need a nap from getting up so darn early. I figured I'd have a day or two of difficulty, but eventually I'd exhaust myself, fall asleep at a reasonable time, and get a decent night's sleep. Unfortunately, I get very anxious when I have to wake up early because I am convinced I'm going to sleep through my alarm clock or my alarm clock won't work or the power will go out and my clock will get shut off. Instead, I can't fall asleep at night and when I finally do, I wake up after an hour in a complete panic convinced I've overslept and am going to be late, thus beginning the vicious cycle all over again. I've had five nights of this and I'm exhausted.
Plus, people expect you to be happy and peppy and excited at work so I have to use whatever energy I can muster to smile broadly and enthusiastically tell everyone, "I LOVE sitting on the floor in the hallway for nine hours, hunched over my personal laptop, because I don't have an office or a desk or a work computer yet! Of course I don't mind! I'm flexible!"
Lying is exhausting.
Eventually I'll settle in and develop a routine that involves normal sleeping patterns so I'll have more energy to blog when I get home. Of course, I don't know if my blog really applies anymore since I'm not exactly a housewife, but let's just ignore that minor detail for now...
Happy New Year!
This is why I haven't had much time to blog - not because I'm exhausted from my busy day at work, but because I feel like I need a nap from getting up so darn early. I figured I'd have a day or two of difficulty, but eventually I'd exhaust myself, fall asleep at a reasonable time, and get a decent night's sleep. Unfortunately, I get very anxious when I have to wake up early because I am convinced I'm going to sleep through my alarm clock or my alarm clock won't work or the power will go out and my clock will get shut off. Instead, I can't fall asleep at night and when I finally do, I wake up after an hour in a complete panic convinced I've overslept and am going to be late, thus beginning the vicious cycle all over again. I've had five nights of this and I'm exhausted.
Plus, people expect you to be happy and peppy and excited at work so I have to use whatever energy I can muster to smile broadly and enthusiastically tell everyone, "I LOVE sitting on the floor in the hallway for nine hours, hunched over my personal laptop, because I don't have an office or a desk or a work computer yet! Of course I don't mind! I'm flexible!"
Lying is exhausting.
Eventually I'll settle in and develop a routine that involves normal sleeping patterns so I'll have more energy to blog when I get home. Of course, I don't know if my blog really applies anymore since I'm not exactly a housewife, but let's just ignore that minor detail for now...
Happy New Year!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
2010: A review through food
I'm not a big New Year's Eve partygoer. I've been to some parties over the years, but generally I prefer to snuggle up with my husband, watch a movie, and avoid all the drunk drivers. Also, my husband is usually asleep by eleven.
I decided this year to make a great dinner for my husband to ring in the New Year, and I had the brilliant idea to make a dinner buffet that reflects all the things we did over the year. The highlight was our trip to Spain, of course, so I decided that tonight would be the night to attempt paella. And what goes better with paella than sangria!
Spain wasn't the only place we traveled, however. We went to Charleston, SC to celebrate our eight year wedding anniversary. We splashed around at the beach, had a carriage ride, and topped our evening off with dinner at the Peninsula Grill where we ate an amazing dinner of upscale, southern comfort food and the most delicious coconut cake ever baked (it's so famous you can order it online!). Naturally, I had to include coconut cake in the review of 2010 menu.
We also went to Atlanta for a baseball game, and what represents Georgia better than peaches (which we incidentally picked up at a roadside stand on our drive down). Naturally I had to make a peach cobbler, following the recipe of a good ol' Georgia girl, Paula Deen.
We also visited a few places in North Carolina, like Raleigh and Asheville, and had our share of visitors as well! One of our favorite places to bring visitors is Mac's Speed Shop for some Carolina BBQ. I've learned the difference between Western Carolina, Eastern Carolina, and South Carolina bbq and am happy to share my knowledge with visitors as they choose from the variety of sauces available at Mac's. Naturally, our New Year's feast had to include some pulled pork with a choice of Western or Eastern Carolina bbq sauce.
I rounded out our feast with chocolate frogs to remember my sister's visit to Charlotte for the opening of the newest Harry Potter movie. We both love Harry Potter, and it only seemed appropriate that her first visit to Charlotte coincide with the opening of the movie. I made chocolate frogs when she visited, but I tried a new recipe this time around and they were quite delicious.
I had a great 2010 and it was fun reminiscing about all the fun times as I ate some pretty darn good food. I hope you had a safe and fun new year as well!
(Pictures and recipes to come...)
I decided this year to make a great dinner for my husband to ring in the New Year, and I had the brilliant idea to make a dinner buffet that reflects all the things we did over the year. The highlight was our trip to Spain, of course, so I decided that tonight would be the night to attempt paella. And what goes better with paella than sangria!
Spain wasn't the only place we traveled, however. We went to Charleston, SC to celebrate our eight year wedding anniversary. We splashed around at the beach, had a carriage ride, and topped our evening off with dinner at the Peninsula Grill where we ate an amazing dinner of upscale, southern comfort food and the most delicious coconut cake ever baked (it's so famous you can order it online!). Naturally, I had to include coconut cake in the review of 2010 menu.
We also went to Atlanta for a baseball game, and what represents Georgia better than peaches (which we incidentally picked up at a roadside stand on our drive down). Naturally I had to make a peach cobbler, following the recipe of a good ol' Georgia girl, Paula Deen.
We also visited a few places in North Carolina, like Raleigh and Asheville, and had our share of visitors as well! One of our favorite places to bring visitors is Mac's Speed Shop for some Carolina BBQ. I've learned the difference between Western Carolina, Eastern Carolina, and South Carolina bbq and am happy to share my knowledge with visitors as they choose from the variety of sauces available at Mac's. Naturally, our New Year's feast had to include some pulled pork with a choice of Western or Eastern Carolina bbq sauce.
I rounded out our feast with chocolate frogs to remember my sister's visit to Charlotte for the opening of the newest Harry Potter movie. We both love Harry Potter, and it only seemed appropriate that her first visit to Charlotte coincide with the opening of the movie. I made chocolate frogs when she visited, but I tried a new recipe this time around and they were quite delicious.
I had a great 2010 and it was fun reminiscing about all the fun times as I ate some pretty darn good food. I hope you had a safe and fun new year as well!
(Pictures and recipes to come...)
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