autumnal

I love fall. It's probably my favorite season. Yesterday I had plans to go hiking and apple picking with some friends. Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate, but we did get to do some great leaf-peeping and apple buying. We rented a Zipcar and traveled up to Fishkill Farms. Even with the rain, it was apple-tastic.

We had fresh, warm apple cider donuts - yum! And I bought lots of little gourds for a pumpkin-scape.

On our way back to the city, we made a pit stop at a Target (because that's what you do when you're a New Yorker with a car for the day). I picked up a Mr. Potato Head pumpkin decorating kit, and these little felt buckets were in the $1 section.

They are now filled with candy, of course. And then on to the main event - apple pie!

I even made my own crust from scratch with a recipe from this month's Bon Appetit. It was surprisingly easy. I was going to attempt a lattice crust, but opted for a regular top. I used a small cookie cutter to cut the excess dough into small leaves and rimmed the crust with them (I stole the idea from Martha).

The crust burnt a little, but it was still delicious.

dissection of a dating profile

A few weeks ago I decided to reactivate my profile on a dating website. It's not one I pay for - I'm not that invested at the moment - but my new attitude towards dating is something like "allowing for the possibility." I'm not putting a ton of effort into it, but I've taken it a step beyond sitting on the couch and hoping that the delivery guy is also my soul mate.

The problem for me is that I frequently look at a bunch of profiles and think, "if these are my options, I'll stick with Plan A of becoming a crazy cat lady." And I don't even like cats that much.

I've gotten 3 e-mails so far. One was from an obvious freak. His screen name is "babetheox", and let's just say that my immediate response to his message was "ew ew ew ew ew."

Then there's this guy. Let's start with his headline, which is the little box above your screen name, picture and age.

I believe there is always new thing to learn in life

You mean, you believe there are always new things to learn in life? Or, you believe there is always some new thing to learn in life? I realize pulling out the red pen right away might be a little nit-picky, but poor grammar and/or lack of proof reading is such a turn off. Now if I thought English was his second language, I'd be more forgiving, but under languages spoken he only put English. He's also allegedly in graduate school. I'm having a hard time buying that. Here's the rest of his profile:

My most humbling moment: when I took my college diploma

If you're the first college grad in your family, I'll take it, but otherwise - barf.

Five items I can't live without: LOVE, HONESTLY, FAMILY, FOOD, MONEY

Honestly, I don't think they're asking for basic needs. By definition, and item is a noun. "Honestly" is an adverb. You should have learned this before you got your college diploma.

Fill in the blank: _____ is sexy; _____ is sexier.beauty; inner beauty

Did you get that from a fortune cookie or a motivational coffee table book? Wait, it gets better.

"Why you should get to know me"
those things descibe me well:Thinks far with vision, Easily influenced by kindness,Polite and soft-spoken,Having lots of ideas ,Sensitive,Active mind,Hesitating Tends to delay,Choos the best,Temperamental,Funny and humorous ,Loves to joke Good debating skills,Friendly,Knows how to make friends,Abiding,Able to show character,Easily hurt,Prone to getting colds,Loves to dress up,Takes time to recover when hurt,Brand conscious,Executive

Where to begin?!?! It's a cornucopia of mockery-in-the-making. My sarcastic bitch wiring is short circuiting form overload! First these things that describe you well make you look like an idiot! Where did you get these? The Tao of Pooh? When you're having lots of ideas, do you filter through any of them? Was it before or after you graduated college that you found out that hesitating doesn't just "tend" to delay, it is, by definition, an act of delaying. Congratulations on your "good debating skills," now how about honing those editing skills? "Prone to getting colds"? Might I recommend some vitamin C supplements. "Loves to dress us"? Dress up, as in go to a black tie event, or dress up as in put on your mother's sensible black bumps and best church dress and spy on your neighbor as she gets out of the shower? "Takes time to recover when hurt"? I am disappointed that you're not Wolverine, but I really can't fault you for that.

I could go on and on, but there's more material for me to critique!

"More about what I'm looking for"
well, what I'm looking for in a person, just a normal person with some real human characters, kindness , honesty, faith and... so I'm not lookig for some thing special and you may be that one I'm looking for.

[shaking head an rubbing eyes] WTF?!? Okay, you're human, you're looking for a human, that you've made clear. It helps that this isn't a dating sight for mythic creatures, cyborgs and aliens. I may be that some thing special that you're not looking for? Or I may be that one you're looking for, who is not some thing special? Are you on drugs?

His e-mail was the most normal thing about him. He wrote, "I think you can learn more by spending 5 minutes with someone than a month of emails so lets just meet for a drink!"
Um, thanks but no thanks. I think I've learned enough from your profile. Either you're Balki Bartokomous (although you don't come across as that charming), or you're unimaginative and lazy, neither of which I'm particularly interested in at the moment.

Let's home #3 offers something more appealing.

a love to dream of

god hates protesters

A few days ago one of my friend's linked to the Huffington Post's "best protest" signs, which I found hysterical. Today, another friend and gay activist linked to god hates protesters. You've really got to stop by and check these out - they're hilarious.

This was my favorite; I actually laughed out loud.

fat bottomed girl gets fit

Ah, weight loss. How I loathe thee. I mean, I love losing weight, but it's the constant battle with my body that I hate.

So I'm finally trying to do something about it that doesn't involve wasting money on more diet books, a trip to GNC to put some weird chemicals in my body, or torturing myself over every ounce of booze, chip of chocolate and quarter cup of ice cream. (Honest to god, when was the last time you ate only 1/4 cup of ice cream in one sitting?)

This morning my darling friend/colleague/mentor/lifecoach Ruthie sent me a link to one of her favorite blogs, Fit Bottomed Girls. Today they have a post about how blogging can help with your weight loss goals, and since my creative blogging juices haven't been flowing quite so freely of late I figured I'd give it a try.

I would love for food to not be an issue in my life. I know I need to change my relationship with food, because it's currently not a good one. It's just always THERE, literally and figuratively. And when other things in my life are going less-than-well it's one of the first things I turn to for either comfort or a sense of control - both reasons are unhealthy. Food and my weight became a much bigger issue than they should have in my last relationship (clearly symptoms of the much bigger problems that lead to its demise). He just couldn't understand the problem:

Him: Well if you want to lose weight, just eat less and exercise more.
Me: Holy shit! I can't believe I've never thought of that!! You've solved my lifetime of food/weight/body image issues in one sentence! Hazaah!

Yeah. That didn't end well.

But I do feel stupid for disliking my weight and not being able to just lose it. My therapist has suggested Weight Watchers, and I know so many people who swear by it, but I really don't have the time or the money (although, if losing weight is so important I should make time). Fortunately the fantastic Ruthie also informed me that with a referral NYU provides up to 12 visits with a nutritionist. Done.

I was told to keep a food journal with the approximate quantities and times I was eating. I was concerned about my first visit. If she was super skinny I was going to hate her immediately. Also, being in a university setting, I knew the majority of her patients would be anorexic and/or bulimic girls on the verge of heart failure, and I just had this image in my mind of me walking down the corridor like Godzilla, breaking the emaciated waifs in half as my giant hips swished from side to side like a wrecking ball, their bony frames impaled into the walls. Move over, skeletons, fatty's coming through!

Fortunately, that didn't happen. No one else was there, and the nutritionist is slender but not skinny, athletic but not jacked. She's a little perky, and she's about my age, so I still hold both of those things against her as a person but not as a professional. When I expressed my frustration over not being able to put my knowledge into action she totally validated my feelings, which was a huge help. "Most Americans are hyper-aware of nutrition. You dieters probably know more than I do about calories. If it was about knowledge, I wouldn't have a job."

I left the first meeting feeling, well, hopeful. I can be fixed. Who knew? So what am I learning? Since it's free knowledge and most people would have to pay $80 a session to see a nutritionist, I feel I should share:

• Keep a journal. It's one of the most proven techniques for changing the role of food in your life. For example, the nutritionist realized in our first session that 6pm is my problem hour. Everything's good up until then. So now I plan out a snack for around that time period, before I head home to make dinner. I'm much less likely to stop and get chips, candy, etc.
• Splenda or sugar? Go with sugar. Splenda has 4 calories a packet; sugar has 16. But because Splenda is a chemical (e.g. foreign substance) the body doesn't digest it in the same way. It ferments in your digestive system, giving you bloating and gas. It also spikes your sugar levels, so you'll be hungrier sooner.
• Don't deny yourself foods. If anything is off limits, you obsess over it.
• Counting calories isn't necessary. If you "save up" calories for splurges, you tend to go crazy, and again you obsess over what you're going to "spend" those calories on.
• Have dessert as dessert, a.k.a. after a meal. The protein and fiber from your meal will a) make you eat less, and b) slow down the body's processing of the sugar, so it's less likely to spike your blood sugar.

What she's working on with me is based on the book Intuitive Eating, which I've bought but haven't read yet. The idea is that if you listen to your body, it'll tell you when it's hungry and when it's full - I actually have a hunger and fullness scale that I use to measure my feelings before and after I eat. (1 = passing out; 10 = you've stuffed yourself so much the food is coming back up your esophagus because there is physically no more space in your stomach; the goal is to stay between a 3 and a 7).

In the first 2 weeks I gained 1lb. Definitely wasn't happy getting off the scale, but I'm sticking with it. It's going to take more than 2 weeks to change a lifetime of bad habits. I'll keep you updated.

Now, if you'll excuse me, fatty needs a snack - she's at a 3 and getting grumpy.

have mercy!

A few months ago you helped my friend Stacey win a cake for having the best engagement story. Last night was Stacey's bachelorette party in NYC, and it could not have been a more perfect way to complete the story.

Her friend Kyle, who had been integral in orchestrating the proposal, went to see Bye Bye Birdie last week, which happens to be currently starring the one and only John Stamos. Kyle met the former Full House star at the stage door after the show and told him the bride-to-be's story. Uncle Jessie loved it, and when Kyle told him the bachelorette was going to be in the city the next week, Stamos assured him that he'd come out and say "hi." Only 2 people out last night knew this until dinner.

We waited outside for about 30 minutes. When the cast starting coming out we had to pretend like we'd seen the show and say, "good job!" to all the kids signing playbills around us. When Mr. Stamos finally came out we had to beat off the beast of a woman behind us desperately trying to get an autograph. I heard one of the girls say, "Can you move your playbill out of the shot?!" and immediately grabbed the woman's wrist and yanked it out of the way. Stacey had already made it very clear that if we didn't get a good picture of her and her Greek TV hero, she would slay us.

Stamos did not disappoint. He had Stacey tell the story again; she told him he made being Greek cool when she was little; he kissed her on the cheek, gave her a hug, and signed her "bachelorette" sash. It was PFA - pretty fucking awesome.

feeling like fall

Despite my apprehension over back-to-school, I am loving signs of fall. I wish we could get a few weeks or even days of the low 70's/high 60's weather; that doesn't seem to be happening. But I'm ready for fall - I want to switch out my clothes, put away all the skirts and capri pants I never fit into this summer anyways, pack up the sandals, and break out the sweaters. I think fall is my best season. Skirts with thick tights and knee-high boots, warm sweaters with jeans, and a fleece blanket on my lap while I enjoy the fall line-up (I actually put the season premiere's of House, How I Met Your Mother, and Glee on my calendar).



You know what else fall means? Pumpkins. I love pumpkins. I love seeing them, decorating them, baking with them, and - most of all - eating them. I make a phenomenal pumpkin-pear crumble; I highly recommend giving it a try. So imagine my excitement yesterday when I went to the grocery store near my office to pick up a snack and saw Stonyfield had a limited edition pumpkin pie flavored yogurt. I like pie, and I like pie flavored yogurt - apple pie, key lime pie, lemon meringue pie - all good things. Now imagine my disappointment when, after swirling my spoon through the thick, creamy, pale pumpkin colored goop, I tasted it. I kind of smacked my lips for a few seconds trying to decide if I liked it, and then my face puckered like I'd bit into a lemon. NG - no good. They don't use aspartame or other artificial sweeteners in their products, so I don't know what that aftertaste was, but I did not like. Highly disappointing.



But to leave a sweet taste in my mind, if not my mouth, and a smile on my face, fortunately I have other pumpkins to please me.

never say never

Stephanie sent out a link today to pictures of the kdis she had taken a few weeks ago. They are so cute. Zachary is getting so big, and Kayley is continuing her transformation from "baby" to "little girl" in the most amazing ways (we "talked" on the phone a few weeks ago - it was awesome).

I love my niece and nephew. I love having a matching set - one of each. But I certainly wouldn't say "no" to another one. I sent Steph an e-mail telling her what beautiful children she and Scott produce, and asked if they were considering a third.

Her response?

Wed, Sep 9, 2009 at 11:10 AM,
Amy wrote:
soooo, thinking about a 3rd?

ARE YOU INSANE!!!!!

I'm not sure if that's a "maybe" or a "not right now."

I'm glad somebody can find them

From my recent trip to San Diego, my friend Toni sent me an e-mail with the subject: "And these are..."

"...breasts, Luca!"*

What a great picture this will be to pull out when before the prom, when the college girlfriend comes home, etc.

*In case you wondering, I was wearing a Yoga to the People tee shirt, Luca was pointing to the letters saying, "O's!", like his Cheerios.

Seeking Home for 2 Family Dogs

Attention readers in the greater Boston/New England area: This was passed along from a friend - please forward to anyone you know who might be interested!

Two gorgeous labs - trained - Seeking Home for Family Dogs Cookie and Coco

We are moving overseas in just 2 weeks. Unfortunately, I have still not been able to find a good home for Cookie and Coco . We're not able to take our beloved doggies with us and I've been desperately trying to find a home for both of them 'together'. They were raised together and pine without each other. The Lab rescue have already said that they would probably separate them, so this is my last resort. Recently I tried to take Coco out in my car alone and she TOTALLY refused to even get into the car without Cookie.....!!!! She absolutely pulled back on her haunches until Cookie was by her side. Both doggies are in great health, have been spayed and have ID chips implanted under the skin. Cookie turned 3 December 10th and Coco turned 3 April 1st. Cookie is my mellow-yellow, and just loves her tummy rubbed. Coco is adorably funny and lives for her "ball." She also loves the water...... Cookie loves lots of attention. Both doggies are loyal and love to walk. They have been raised with my 3 kids running around all over the place, and have survived Sammy's constant hugging and love of 'dress-up', so they are fantastic family dogs.T his is by far one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make,but under the circumstances I have no choice. Please, please forward these pics to all your friends. I want to find a great home for these fabulous doggies. They are just adorable and it's heartbreaking to let them go. In a perfect world, I hope that we could find someone local so that we can still keep in touch and visit them. *I pray that someone, somewhere can help us keep Cookie and Coco together, and love them just as much as we do.* Even if you can’t take them, please pass this around!

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Contact: Katherineat:kjmorris74[at]yahoo[dot]com

like daughter, like mother?

Kayley's been going through quite a growth spurt lately, both physically and developmentally. Apparently she's been quite the little stunt woman lately. She fell at daycare and bumped her head on a window sill. She took a digger in the driveway and scraped both her knees and her arm. Steph said she was standing on the couch (not allowed) when her dad came home, and K got so excited she just stepped off the couch.

Now, in my head I'm thinking 'like mother, like daughter,' but I didn't want to say it. Fortunately, Steph beat me to it: "Not only does the apple not fall far from the tree, the apple is still part of the tree."

Seriously, it's genetic. We come from a family of fallers. I'm not talking little stumbles, I'm talking careening down the stairs of the Bunker Hill monument, shattering knee caps (multiple times), breaking toes, backs, heels off shoes, cutting open faces. My sister's nick name in high school was "step funny." Clearly, Kayley takes after her mother.

But apparently she takes after her auntie, too. K's really coming in to her terrible two's. Last week she got mad at Steph so she left the room, got her blocks, and came back in the room to throw them. She didn't just grab what was available and chuck it, she chose her weapon. (Fortunately for Steph, she didn't choose one of her wood block puzzles!) "She has you in her!" Steph told me. Me? "Yes, you. She just gets this look, and I'm like, 'I know that look. That's Amy. I already grew up with this!'" My aunt confirmed.

The other day, Steph asked her, "Do you channel Auntie Amy?"

K's response? "No, mommy, you channel Auntie Amy." She has no idea what that means, but she knows how to say it with attitude.

Apparently my niece's inner bitch is Auntie Amy.

shoe-pinion

I popped into DSW this morning to buy a hat for my triathlon and, of course, walked out with a pair of shoes.

I bought the Franco Sarto Label in black. I like the brown better, but they didn't have my size, so when I got to my office I searched for them online. Apparently I got quite a deal this morning, because I paid $36, and the cheapest I can find them online is $50.


So here's my quandary: Do I buy the brown for $50? Do I stick with the black or return it? I'm not in love with this shoe, but I've been searching high and low for something more "professional" and this really fits the bill. I'd love a black peep-toe with a slight wedge, but I feel like Goldilocks searching for a four-leaf clover (how's that for a mixed metaphor?!). In other words, I thing the one that's "just right" is going to be next to impossible to find.


Help!

guerrilla girls

I'm teaching a course in the fall called Gender & Communication. In prepping my first lecture on the waves of feminism, I came across this, and had to share.

Take that, art snobs! Grrr.

insult + injury

Remember back in February when I announced I'd made the asinine decision to do a triathlon on my birthday? Well the time has almost come; the race is on Sunday. Honestly, it can't come soon enough; I want this mo-fo over and done with.

Yesterday I finally took the bike out for a 10.5 mile ride around Prospect Park, accompanied by my friend, colleague, gym buddy and life coach, Ruthie. Thank god for her, because if I'd been on my own I would have quit after about 20 min.

I was exhausted afterwards. I tried to take a nap but couldn't fall asleep. I slept awful last night. I've been going to occupational therapy for nerve entrapment in my right arm (I was losing feeling in my last 2 fingers while typing and decided that wasn't a good sign), so I have to sleep with this big blue soft brace on my right arm to keep me from bending it. I look like I'm going to do falconry or something; fortunately no one sees me sleeping! Anyways, it was bothering me last night, and I kept waking up with my left arm numb. (I clearly used to sleep with my right arm bent under my pillow, which was part of the problem, so now I'm just abusing the left side instead).

While waiting for the subway I caught sight of some one's iced coffee and remembered, a little too late, the one I'd left sitting on the kitchen counter. I had the forethought to brew a full pot of coffee last night, put it in the fridge, and make myself an icy caffeinated treat in a travel mug. I just forgot to take it with me.

When I walked into OT the first thing my therapist said was, "You look exhausted." "Great," I thought, "I do look as bad as I feel." Well I only felt worse when I saw how hot her other patient was. He was gorgeous and not wearing a wedding ring! If that wasn't bad enough, she made me do these exercises that I've decided are not actually therapeutic and are just designed to make me look like an ass. I pinch my thumb and first finger together, making an "OK" sign. Then I put my other fingers on my chin/cheek and rotate my hand upward so the thumb comes up to my eyebrow. Last week when doing them she told me I looked like Dame Edna.

After OT I went to the gym to give my tri-suit a try in the pool. I saw not one but two of my former students at the pool. They're both girls I like and have a good rapport with, but I prefer to see them when I'm not dressed like an elephant seal on its way to a luau. I felt the need to explain to the one student who was life guarding that I didn't always dress like this when doing laps. And then my cap ripped. For anyone that swims, you understand how frickin' annoying it is when you're about to get in the pool, and your cap rips. Fortunately my hair is short now so I could swim without one, but it also meant that I swallowed a lot of water because my hair kept getting in my mouth when I tried to breathe.

This day has got to get better.

Stoop Sale = Success!

Sunday my roommate Anne and I held a stoop sale. This is what you do when you live in an urban environment and don't have a yard, but need to say all your old crap. We got our stuff downstairs around 10 AM. I thought we'd be done around 1 PM. Not so. 8 hrs later, we both had sunburns, we've met some very interesting people, and we'd made about $300. Exhausting, but totally worth it, mainly because we got so much stuff out of our apartment!

I saw two pairs of my shoes find new homes (I only put out 2 pairs!), unlike this summer when I had a yard sale at my parents' house. Clearly there weren't enough suburban fashionistas around to appreciate my collection - I think I only sold 1 pair out of the whole lot!

I miss you all and hope you're happy where ever you walk.

locusts in the forecast?

Within 30 minutes, I witnessed the following events:

1. A woman crying and praying in the locker room at the gym*
2. A line at the ATM like a Black Friday run on the bank
3. A car backing up in Union Square because it was going the wrong way down a 1 way street**
4. An S train running on the B, D line.***

Is there an impending apocalypse I haven't heard about?

Notes:
* I walked by this woman when I was coming out of the shower, so I knew she had seen me. I was in the next row of lockers getting changed when I thought I heard her crying. Then she was mumbling, "I really need you now, I really need you now." I wasn't sure if she was praying until I heard her say, "I praise your name, Lord Jesus, I praise you." Being the godless bitch that I am, I immediately started mentally blogging about this incident. The only time anything religious comes up for me at the gym is when I think, "God, I am out of shape," or "Sweet Jesus, I can barely get my fat ass up these stairs." When I went to leave she was half-way into her gym clothes, but she was still crying, and I just felt like I would be a giant asshole if I left without saying something (we were the only 2 in the locker room). I just poked my head around the corner and asked if she was ok. She nodded her head. I asked if she was just having a bad day and if she wanted to talk or just be left alone. She said she was fine but appreciated me asking. I told her I hoped her workout was cathartic. I totally understand having such a bad day that you're crying in public, which only makes it worse. And while I'm not big on prayer, more power to her for going to the gym - my sad ass would have been home, in bed, with some ice cream.
** You don't back up in Union Sq.
*** It took me a minute to even figure out where an "S" train normally runs. It's the shuttle between Grand Central Station and Times Square. How it would even get onto a B,D line is beyond me. To give a Boston reference, this would be like seeing an orange line car on the C/green line.

it's not that bad

Sorry, I know I've been missing in action a bit. I don't think I've gone this long without posting since I started blogging. Not that you were holding your breath, but things have just been hectic, and I've been lame. No major updates, but lots of little ones hopefully coming your way in the near future.

In the mean time, I was going through some old pictures and thought I'd share. Our apartment is a bit of a mess at the moment - in the last 2 weeks one roommate left, a new one joined, there are a gazillion boxes in the living room, and we're having a stoop sale tomorrow so there's even more junk than usual hanging around. Fortunately, it's not as bad as this:

These are pictures from the week after my road trip, when I had landed back at my parents' house and was trying to get my stuff organized before I moved in with Lisa. This is what happens when you move as much as I do (I've stopped counting, but last time I checked I think it was about 9 times in 7 yrs). Not advised. I'm very happy that I have no plans to move in the next 6-12 months and even happier that I'm happy right where I am!

And that my room doesn't look like that.

help my friends get a free wedding cake!

Huge favor to ask!!! Cakes For Occasions is doing a contest for best proposal story for a free cake. My friend Stacey is getting married this fall, and she has one of the most amazing proposal stories I've ever heard. No matter how cynical I get about dating and relationships, this is one of the stories that keeps me going. Also, Stacey and I have known each other since we met doing drama years and years ago. We're not always super in touch, but she is an amazing friend and has always been there for me when I've needed her. She's a wonderful person and really deserves to get this cake!!!

Please vote for Stacey and Dave here... http://www.cakes4occasions.com/

If you don't know Stacey or her story, here it is:

My boyfriend (Dave) emailed my friend from college (Kyle) in order to make a plan to get me to New York City. My friend Kyle decided to take advantage of my obsession with John Stamos. I received a phone call from Kyle saying that his friend was producing a new musical on Broadway and that they were trying to secure John Stamos for the lead. A business dinner was planned, and Kyle asked his friend if I could come because of my love for Uncle Jesse. I was told as long as I behaved I could join. I spent the next two weeks getting ready for the dinner of my lifetime. My boyfriend dropped me off at South Station and I took the train to New York City one Saturday morning in May. I met Kyle at his apartment, watched a few YOUTUBE videos of John Stamos, and proceeded to get gussied up for this special dinner. We get to this posh restaurant in Tribeca, check in at the hostess stand, and the hostess whispers something to the other host. Kyle says "See, they said we are with the John Stamos party!” I smiled with excitement. We walk up to the table and there are eight people with menus in front of their faces. One menu falls down and it's my boyfriend's sister. I said, "What are you doing here?" I'm still clueless. All the menus come down and my parents, my sister, Dave's parents, Dave's brother, brother's fiance, and sister are all there. Dave comes out from the side and makes a beautiful speech, then gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him. All I could do was nod through my tears of joy. Everyone in the restaurant started cheering and clapping. After I put the gorgeous ring on my finger, kissed my fiancé, I turned to our table and said, "Does this mean I'm not meeting John Stamos??" Everyone laughed. I was so touched that our families came all the way to New York City to make this occasion one I will never forget.

French football hottie hits Houston St.

I came out of class tonight, and as I was crossing the street to the subway I walked passed 3 men in tee-shirts and gym shorts. I did a double-take - it was Thierry Henry! In case you don't know who he is, he's arguably one of the world's best soccer (football) players. He also happens to be one of my ex's favorite celebrities - he used to play for Arsenal, the ex's club. If the ex could meet one famous person, it would probably be monsieur Henry.

The taste of karma is so, so sweet. Thierry's pretty easy on the eyes, too.

guest blogger: li'l Z

Word. Li'l Z here, a.k.a. Amy's nephew Zachary. Auntie Aims' shizzle is all dizzled from the weekend, so I volunteered to hop in and update on the festivities. I'd like to give a shout-out to my big sister Kayley, who turns 2 today fo' reals. We had her party Saturday, and here's the shit that went down.

Here I am with my Auntie Amy. I'm so excited I could eat my hand! I haven't seen her since I was 6 days old, and I wanted to show her all the muscle I've packed on. My neck's still a little floppy, and I don't really dig tummy time, but I got mad skills with smilin' and drooling and shit.


Here's K with her buddy James. They're mad tight. And this is James' little brother, Connor:

We call him "Tank." I can't wait to start eating solids so I can bulk up like my man here.

My moms made the cake. It was sick! I couldn't eat it, obviously, 'cause I'm still on the b-milk and all, but I heard it was magically delicious.

Here's the whole fam - put yo' hands in the air for the Spindlers, whoop whoop!

The guest of honor, Miss K-monster clapping on the one's and two's with pops:

It was a big day! I napped through a lot of it, cause, y'know, little man's got to get his Zzz's and all, but I think everyone had a good time, especially the birthday girl. She got some kick-ass prezzies, too! Auntie Amy hooked her up with this play tent:




I cannot wait to get my crawl on so I can get some of that action.

Alright peeps, I need to do my business (a.k.a. eat, sleep and poop, not necessarily in that order). Happy b-day, sis!

love and naps,

li'l Z

kitchen tips

When multi-tasking in the kitchen, try not to use the pepper grinder in close proximity to your cup of coffee.

celeb baby brunch

Saturday morning I had a long over-due date with Peter, my best gay. We met for brunch at French Roast, a favorite cafe of ours on the edge of the West Village with a few outdoor tables that offer prime people-watching seats. French Roast with Peter has a special place in my heart. He took me there for the first time several years ago after we went to the Barney's sample sale (it was one of our first dates). As we were leaving Peter hooked his arm through mine and asked, "Do you think people look at us together and think, 'Poor girl, she doesn't realize her boyfriend is a flaming homosexual'?" I hope they do.

We snagged a seat outside, and within 5 minutes Peter had spotted Amanda Peet headed our way (he always sees celebrities - I think partially because he's always looking). She went into the restaurant and sat, with her daughter another celeb we couldn't identify, at the table on the other side of the window. I gawked momentarily and then returned my attention to Peter and my pomegranate mimosa. Towards the end of the meal Ms. Peet's daughter, who must be about 2 1/2, stood on the edge of the window sill and pressed herself against the glass. I waved; she giggled. Peter put his hands on the glass where hers were; she laughed as she pulled her hands away. We played this game on and off for the next 20 min or so. Amanda Peet must have thought we were either a) patient/sweet to be playing along or b) totally freaking nuts and thankful there was a pain of glass in between us and her child.

WTF week

Greetings!

It's WTF week over here. Let's review some of the weeks top WTF events:

1. 
   
   Baby daddy date - The (alleged) drug dealer and I had a date scheduled for Monday night. I really didn't want to go, but I didn't want to be mean. I spent all day thinking about how to get out of this; I implored my friends to put on their thinking caps and find me an excuse. Just as I was about to send some lame text about not feeling well, I got a Hail Mary: "Im not going to be able to make it tonight i have daughter till the morning, but i would like to see you soon ttyl!" Yes! but how did I get to the point in my life where I'm receiving text messages like this? WTF?


2. 
   
   Texted absence - Wednesday, 8:00 AM, my phone beeps. I wonder what Jane wants; I'm assuming it's Jane because I can't imagine who else could possibly be texting me at that hour, but no. It's a student telling me he's not going to be in class that morning. I gave my students my cell phone # last week when we went to see a film, because I didn't know what the theater looked like, where the ticket booth was, etc. In no way did I intend for them to use my number for any other reason. WTF?


3. 
   
   Facebooked ex - Wednesday, 3:30 PM, (it was a big day) I got a friend request from my high school ex-boyfriend. We had lots of up's and down's, but reconciled in early 2004. We haven't really kept in touch since. He's now bald, married, and has 2 month old twins. Why are you Facebooking me? You have 2 infants to be caring for! WTF?


4. 
   
   Return of SBDP - I haven't heard from the philosopher in over a month. We hung out, we made bread (we actually baked a loaf of bread, that's not a euphemism for something sexual), and that was it. I texted him the day after - bupkis. He called today. He left a message (no way was I answering that call) apologizing for being out of touch - lots of family drama, apparently - and asking if I wanted to get coffee. Did I mention it's been a month? WTF?

That's it so far for WTF week. Stay tuned for more WTF updates!

how I learned to be an auntie

wonder which aunt was babysitting this weekend...

best. e-mail. ever.

live with Borat?

Our roommate Edgar is getting married in August, so Anne and I need to find a new roommate. My friend Brian matched me up with Anne and did a fabulous job. We're hoping for repeat good luck. Yesterday, we both sent out e-mails to our contacts looking for potential interest. Anne's friend sent this response:


HI –

MY NAME IS PINO, I WANT TO BE NEW ROOMATES!

I LIKE WOMENS – THEY ARE PRETTY AND I CAN HELP WITH THE CHORE AND THE MOUSES. ALSO, I FAVOR THE SEX. HOPEFULLY WE MAY HAVE IT?

PLEASE, CONTACT ME WITH YOUR FOTOGRAPHS SO WE CAN BE GOOD ROOMATES TOGETHER. I CAN COOK NICE THINGS LIKE STEW AND ALSO TOMATOS.

KISSES, PINO

PS I HAVE 3 CHILDRENS THEY COME TO VISIT ON SATURDAYS BUT ONLY WITH A CORT-POINTED SUPERVISE. ONCE I DESTROY SOME PROPERTY BUT IT WAS ACCIDENT.

And then, several hours later, followed up with:


HIIT IS PINO AGAIN – SO DISAPPOINT THAT I DIDN’T HEARD FROM YOU YET.

PLEASE LET MY KNOW AT HER EARLIEST CONVENYENCE, THANK U, I AM READY FOR THE MOVING DATES.

Sadly, he doesn't really want to live with us, but it's probably for the best - I'd be wetting myself laughing all the time.

equal opportunity dater

I have a date for Monday night.

The last guy I dated had a master's in international relations and a research job at an Ivy League university. He might (but might not) be writing a book on the politics of sugar.

This new guy has an ex-wife and a 9-year-old daughter. He might (but might not) be a drug dealer.

Clearly, I don't discriminate when it comes to "types". Maybe I should start.

the perfect day

I had a rather amazing day. I woke up during the 9 o'clock hour thirsty, but without a hangover, despite my best efforts last night. I went for a 5.5 mile walk/run (emphasis on the walking) in Prospect Park and got a little sun on my arms. I promised myself that if I ran the whole time in the park - the last bit of which is cruelly uphill - I could get a massage, which I did. My back and shoulder have been killing me, plus me thinks there might be some carpal tunnel issues arising because I keep getting numbness and tingling in my right forearm and hand - occupational hazard of academia, right up there with paper cuts. The massage was fantastic.

Afterwards I went for a little walk in my 'hood. There's a store that I keep wanting to go into but it's always closed when I go by. I ran by it's sister store this morning and saw a really cute pair of sandals, I've been on the hunt for new sandals, so I decide to try the one closer by. Jackpot! I love this store. They have super-cute stuff, totally my style, and reasonable prices. I got a tank top, a sundress, and a pair of sandals.

On my way home I got an iced coffee to round out the day. Now I'm going to pretend to do some work for a few hours until Anne gets home. She went home this weekend, and I've been going through withdrawal. She texted saying she was going to need to unwind, so we have a hot couch date planned for tonight with homemade sangria and guacamole.

I've been alone most of the day, but I was at a BBQ with my sociology peeps last night (that resulted in not 1 but 2 more facebook friends - score!), so it was fine chillin' on my own. And with Anne coming back tonight, it just might be a perfect day.

Hope everyone had a great long weekend, maybe even a perfect day!

no comment

No comments on that text message? Really? No one has anything to say about that? I forwarded it to a few friends and all pretty much responded the same way: "Ewwwww" or "Ew ew ew." It is also one of the funniest text messages I've ever gotten.

Jane and I were thinking up hypothetical replies, because, really, how does one reply to that?

I had, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Jane had, "How calories for faking it?" which I think is really good.

Any other thoughts? I promise I'll credit you in the book I write someday when this academic thing doesn't work out.

not-so-HBT update

After not responding to the "urgent" voicemail that HBT left a week ago Wednesday, I thought I was done with him. Alas, HBT must think otherwise, because yesterday I got this text message*:

Fun fact: orgasms burn 200 calories a pop!

Fascinating. I'll be sure to log them into the exercise journal I just signed up for at Fit Day,

*Note: Now, I've been known to send an inappropriate text message or two, usually after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, but just in case you had an urge to give HBT the benefit of the doubt, know that a) he sent this text message at 7:30 PM, and b) he doesn't drink.

not hot, not cool

A few weeks ago I went to a Kentucky Derby party. I'm sad that I've yet to find another place to wear the hat, but I'm confident that something will crop up.

The party was 5-7, open bar. Needless to say, by the time we were leaving, my whistle was sufficiently wet. We ran into some guys on the way out, and the hat apparently impressed one of them because we started chatting. The details of the conversation are fuzzy, but we exchanged numbers. He was entered into my phone has "Hot Brown Tom", because, well, he was hot, he was brown, and his name was Tom. Creative, I know.

We texted back and forth. Sunday night he called. He's 25 - strike one. I don't know why I've been meeting so many toddlers lately. Gotta stop wading in the kiddie pool. When I asked what he did, he said he majored in computer science but was now "taking classes" in biology, psychology, etc. at LaGuardia Community College. Um, that sounds like finishing you bachelor's to me - strike two. He lives in Queens - strike three. I'm not crossing boroughs for this kid. And just in case I had any thoughts about giving him a chance:

HBT: I can read minds.
Me: Oh yeah?
HBT: Yeah, I know what you're thinking about right now.
Me: Oh really, what's that?
HBT: You're picturing me naked.
Me: Wrong. I'm playing online solitaire.

While we were on the phone I still said I'd let him take me out, but I was busy all week, and he was away for the weekend. I was hoping all was forgotten, but the following Wednesday he left a voicemail. It was marked urgent - I didn't even know you could do that. I thought maybe the red exclamation point meant my voicemail was full. Nope, HBT had to tell me immediately:

Hey, someone randomly told me there was a super hot girl at this number, so you should call me. It's Tom. Lay-tah.

Yes, Tom, later. Later than never.

classroom diversity

Yesterday was the first day of class for my summer Sex & Gender course. Up until Friday around 4 PM I wasn't sure if it was going to be canceled because of low enrollment. I'm really suprised at the amount of diversity in my classroom.

I have students who have and have not taken other sociology courses.

I have an economics major and a film major.

I have a student from Israel and a student from Venezula.

I have a man and a woman.

I have two students.

There are 4 still technically enrolled, so hopefully the other 2 will show up tomorrow, or it's going to be an intense 6-week independent study.

sponge bob douche pants

Remember the philosopher? My roommate insists on calling him "spongey" after the microwave incident, and that nickname has morphed into Sponge Bob Douche pants. And not because he lives in a pineapple under the sea. Let me explain.

We met on the Saturday, he called on the Monday, and we had our first date on the Wednesday. To be totally honest, I thought it was going to be a train wreck. Instead, it was great. We talked non-stop, no awkward silences. Since then we've hung out a few times, including sober dates. Last Tuesday we were supposed to go see a taping of the Daily Show. Unfortunately we got cut - we were the last people to not make it in. The good news is we got bumped to a VIP list for another date. I joked that if he didn't want to see me again he could find a better date with the VIP seats. At least I thought I was joking.

We had some drinks, had some dinner, and came back to my place and hung out. He left around 11PM. I was disappointed, and he saw that, but assured me that he'd be "all mine" at the weekend. He also asked when I was going to make him dinner. And then....

...Nothing. I don't hear a word. All week.

Sunday - 3 in the afternoon - I get a text:

SBDP: How's life?

I respond 1.5 hrs later (I went for a run, then needed to shower, etc. I didn't want to text when I didn't have time to talk, because, you know, like a jackass I thought we might have a conversation.)

Me: Hello there. Good. What've you been up to?
SBDP: Getting caught in family/work crossfire, forgetting mother's day, etc. Now being happy that subway's screwy so I have an excuse not to leave my apartment. You? Finished w your other class?
Me: Sounds like fun. Finished class just need to finish grading. Not much else. Baking. Subbed mashed avocado for oil & it seems to have worked.
SBDP: Yum

That's it. That's all I get, so after about 30 min I decided to throw out some bait and see if he nibbled.

Me: So do we get to make bread or hummus or something any time soon or are you still holding out for a better Daily Show date?
SBDP: Yes, let's make bread! That sounds like fun. Gave to be during the week - important pub trivia tonight
Me: Well let me know when you can squeeze me in
SBDP: Tuesday
Me: sounds good. Good luck tonight
SBDP: Thanks

Okay, so let's recap. You didn't text me for 5 days, and then I got a "how's life?" That's the best you could do? Really? And when you finally decided to text me, you did it on a day you knew you couldn't hang out. Then I had to ask you if you wanted to do something. Awesome. I love scheduling my life around guys who can't be bothered to make time for me.

I know I sound psycho, and I hate it. If I overheard my own conversation, I'd make fun of me relentlessly. I hate that I finally start to have feelings for someone, and he pulls a total dick move. I've read He's Just Not that into You. I've seen the movie. I get it, and my self-esteem isn't so crippled that I'm going to throw myself at someone just because he's got a master's and can bake.

So we're hanging out tomorrow. We're making the stupid fucking bread. I know I have to leave my attitude at the door or it's not worth it, so this is me getting my bitch on and getting it all out.

Oh, and don't worry, there are other dudes in my boy-toy box. Updates on the horizon.

caution: avacado hazard

I have 2 ripe avocados at home, and I've been trying to think of what to do with them (besides guacamole - what, do you think I'm a culinary moron?). Totally not thinking about my soon-to-expire avocados, I was reading the NYT and clicked on the health section, where I saw this:

This is the way to cut and pit an avocado. I saw it on a cooking show years ago, and have tried it several times. It's not as easy as it looks. Last summer I was trying to do this. Because there's part of my brain that's not clinically retarded, I put the avocado on the counter. You don't want to slam a knife into something that you're holding! But I wasn't succeeding, and so I picked the avocado up. This is clearly where the other part of my brain that is defective took over. It was a bad move. I tried to stab the pit with the tip of the knife. Failing to do this, the knife slipped off the side of the pit, passed through the soft, ripe fruit, and sliced 2 of my fingers. It was categorically not good.

So let this be a warning. I'm thinking I should write the NYT and tell them they should edit that picture, or at least give a warning! (C'mon, coffee cups have to warn that the beverages they contain may be hot.) I'm also thinking I might puree the avocado and substitute it for oil when I make chocolate zucchini bread tonight. And I'm thinking I'll use a butter knife to cut the avocado.

say it with cupcakes

Inspired by my previous work combining statistics and baking, I made another cupcake mosaic* for my friend's dissertation proposal defense last week:

Unfortunately his advisor had the flu, so he didn't actually get to defend, but rescheduled for today. So as not to ruin the moment, I made him lick the check mark off the box next to ABD**. Someone suggested we freeze the PhD cupcake and save it for his dissertation defense, kind of like the top layer of a wedding cake. I've never really understood that tradition - if I want cake on my one year wedding anniversary, I'll just buy cake. Similarly, one's dissertation defense can be anti-climactic enough without adding a freezer-burned cupcake to the mix.

* Okay, calling it a "cupcake mosaic" may be a bit of an overstatement. It's no Lincoln/Obama, but you've got to start somewhere.

**For definitions of made up acronyms, see here.

mint julep anyone?

I am so working this hat into my weekly wardrobe.

star student

It's the end of the semester (thank Buddah, Christ, Allah, L. Ton Hubbard - whoever's listening). My undergrad stats lab is over, and last night was the second-to-last (penultimate if you will, I just don't get to use that word often enough) class for adult students. These last two weeks students are doing presentations of the research projects they've spent the semester designing.

Last night, one of my students off-handedly remarked during her presentation that she's from a very political family. (This was relevant because she wanted to study the efficacy of laws ennacted against human trafficking in Ghana - you know, like most of my students.) How political? This is her aunt!!!

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	M - Th 11p / 10c
Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Economic Crisis First 100 Days

What the hell is this woman doing in my Social Science Research Methods class?!?

my happy place

I think I'm usually a pretty positive person, but sometimes it's hard to stay "up." The reality of the state of the academic job market has become all to clear lately, with commentator types saying things like, "Graduate education is the Detroit of higher learning." (Can we get a bailout?!?) NYU's up to its union busting shenanigans again, so the state of my funding for next year is highly uncertain. Then there's the fact that the last fellowship I applied for got canceled - yup, budget cuts turned 2 assistantships into 0, glad I spent the time and effort to complete that application - and one of the classes I'm scheduled to teach this summer (a.k.a. 1/2 my income for the next 3 months) is on the chopping block because there's not enough enrollment. If the swine flu doesn't get me, poverty just might.

Luckily, my sister's kids are SO frickin' cute, no matter how pissy I'm feeling, looking at these always melts my cold, bitchy heart:

philosophy lesson

Saturday night I went to a party at a friend's place and spent most of my night courting a philosopher. His bio is fairly impressive: His dad was an astrophysicist at Princeton. He majored in philosophy at Tufts, then got a master's in philosophy and international relations at the London School of Economics. After a few years in Australia as a research assistant, he moved to NYC. He has a post-doc at Yale. He has a post-doc - that's short for post-doctorate - but no doc. Jane (NYU pal) and I wondered how you could do that - we clearly got it all wrong going through the doctoral process. So how'd he do it? It basically fell into his lap. He seems to have a pretty charmed life.



Example? I was talking about my career plans, or lack there of, and said I could see myself as the director of a non-profit but realized that "director" isn't really an entry level position. "Well," he said, "funny you should say that, because I just ended up becoming the CFO of this non-profit." Ended up.



Uh-huh.



We were all standing around talking, and on the topic of what I can't remember, someone said, "No one really likes cooking or cleaning." Philosopher piped up - "I do." My ears perked up. What type of cooking? Baking. What do you like to bake? Pies. Do you make your own crust? That's the best part. What type of pies? Strawberry rhubarb. Witnesses say my eyes lit up. Strawberry rhubarb is my favorite, but I've never made it because A) pie crusts are a bitch, especially when you don't exactly have the counter space to be rolling out dough, and B) I'm intimidated by rhubarb. It's one of those things I'd get into the the kitchen and then have no idea what to do with. This has happened to me before - with kale, with leeks, with a celery root. I have to call more epicurious friends or look online. Well, this is going to be my year.

I then turned the conversation to cleaning. He likes doing the dishes. (Perfect or gay? such a fine line...) I asked what he did when the sponge started to get a little ripe and left your hands with that funny smell. He microwaves them frequently so doesn't have that probably. How frequently? Once a week - no, more than that. For how long? Well, it depends, but for a really good steam 4 minutes. (Remember this, it'll come up again shortly.)



I can't say this guy was flirting with me, because I was making serious effort with the conversation, but he continued talking to me. I'm not sure that this is someone I'm actually interested in, he might be too boring, but maybe we can have brunch and talk pastry cutters and lattice crusts. At the time, however, I was intrigued (or maybe just drunk) and basically forced my number into his phone. The end of the night went something like this:

Me: Maybe I'll see you around the institute.
Him: Do you go there frequently?
Me: No, not at all actually. Alternatively, we could just go for coffee or a drink.
Him (slightly awkwardly): Sure.
Me: Why don't you take my number?
[pulls out iPhone]
End scene.

Fast forward to Sunday night. I've spent all day on the couch with my roommate (literally - we didn't even get out of our pajamas). I've watched a YouTube video on how to fold a fitted sheet. (The philosopher said he could and referenced said video. Apparently he had a lot of free time for perfecting domestic skills while in Australia.) I had just finished a sink full of dishes and figured, Why not nuke the sponge?

[4 minutes later]

"Anne, do you smell something burning?" Apparently 4 minutes is way too much time for disinfecting a sponge in the microwave. 30 seconds probably would have sufficed.

Lesson learned.

Helen LeClair (née Aneila Procop) 1913-2009

I’d spent a lot of time with my grandmother in the past few months, but I was saying to a friend how I wished I’d seen her one last time. My friend said sometimes it’s easier to handle loss if you can focus on what you’re grateful for, rather than what you regret, so I’d like to share some of the things I’m grateful for.

I’m grateful for my Grammy. In many ways she was the quiet matriarch of the family. I’m so fortunate – we all are – that we had Grammy in our lives for so long. Most of my friends lost their grand parents 10 even 20 years ago. I am so lucky that I had so much time with her. I was constantly seeing my grandmother in new ways, getting to know different aspects of her life, her personality, her love. I know a large part of my changing perspective on her was an artifact of me growing up, but I also believe that in many ways my grandmother became more alive before she passed.

We all know Helen had a special spunk. She was what one might call “a hot ticket.” If I had called her that she might have playfully slapped me and told me I was being fresh. But, after a brief pause, she would lean over, put her hand on my arm, and in a secretive whisper say, “I like it when you’re fresh.”

My grandfather often told me the story of the night he and Grammy met at a USO dance. One part of the story I didn’t hear until very recently was their first conversation. When Grampy finally got up the courage to go over and speak to Grammy, he said he’d been watching her all night. Helen’s reply. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Well, I’m grateful he didn’t, because the beginning of that love story is the beginning of Helen for all of us. The way my grandparents spoke of one another, treated one another, loved one another, is not something entirely of this world. They have given me a model for love, friendship and partnership that I’m not sure I can ever achieve, but for which I will always strive. Grammy always talked to me about her love for Bob and her children. Being a wife and a mother brought joy to her life. I am so grateful for having been able to bask and grow and share in that joy.

Another favorite story of mine was one she told of Mrs. Zartarian next door. They were friendly for many years, and one day she told Grammy she had a favor to ask. Mrs. Zartarian had lost her sister, and Grammy had lost her brother, and Mrs. Z said she would be very honored if she could call Helen her sister. And so it was that a Polish woman and an Armenian woman became their own type of family. Grammy taught me the many meanings and shapes of love, friendship and family.

One of the things I am most grateful for is my Grammy’s sense of humor. One her 95th birthday last summer she expressed to me the importance of humor. She said she had to laugh – if you couldn’t laugh, you should just dig a hole and crawl in it. A few months later when things were getting a little tougher, I reminded her of what she had said. “I said that?” she asked me. And when I assured her she did, she said my grandfather must have been slipping her some of that Polish vodka.

Grammy really was the quiet matriarch. She held on for a long, LONG time. She stayed on this Earth to make sure everyone she loved was okay, and when she finally felt she had done all that she could, she let go. She’s still watching us. She’s still with us. A little piece of Helen lives on inside each one of us. And if we can all be a little more like her in our own lives, we’ll all be better people for it.

Grammy worked for 95 years, and it’s her time to rest. So please, Grammy, sleep. Sleep deep. Rest. You did so much work, and we are your product. For that we are all grateful; I hope we make you proud and do justice to your memory.

Of all things, I am most grateful that I had to opportunity to get to know her, not just as my grandmother, but as a person. Not just as Grammy, but as Helen.

I love you.

1 hot ticket!

Couple of things about this photo:

1. Grammy is 50 in this picture. She was a looker!
2. Check out the size of that Cosmo! It's like 2'x3'. And is that Issue #1?
3. On the back of this picture is the caption: "Mommy's reading!" Apparently that's what my dad and Uncle John said because they'd never seen her sitting and reading before. She had four kids - 15, 13, 11 & 9 - she didn't have time!
   

hello, good-bye

There was clearly some sort of cosmic connection between little Zachary and his great-grandmother Helen. Helen held off until after Zachary was born to pass, and Zachary came to us a week early because it was Helen's time, and he knew we would need some extra love to help us through it. Just like Kayley waited until I got home (over a week late) to make her appearance, Grammy waited until I was home to leave us.

Many of you knew (or knew of) and loved Grammy. She passed away quietly Friday morning. The family is having a small private service tomorrow morning. It will include a ginger ale toast to Helen (it was her favorite beverage). She will be buried with her purse, which she carried with her literally til the day she died. She was like the Queen with that purse; it never left her side. Even at holidays she carried it with her at all times, no matter how much we tried to reassure her that none of us would steal it. It was a handy accessory, good for holding using tissues and storing extra dessert wrapped in a napkin (who needs Tupperware?!). To guide her body to rest, her purse will be stocked with the essentials - toothpicks, a plastic rain bonnet, a flash light, and love notes from best friend and husband of 65 years. A few tissues will be tucked up her sleeve, just in case.

For a brief look at some of Helen's best moments, look back with me at her and Bob, Grammy on the phone, her amazing marriage, her 95th birthday, old photos, and her the amazing humor she kept right up until the end.

He's here!!!

My nephew, Zachary Scott Spindler, arrived yesterday at 2:43 PM. He's 8lbs, 2oz, all healthy. Mom and Dad are really enjoying him, and I'm going home to meet him tomorrow.

Those Spindler babies are born with dark hair (so was my sister). I love the slightly annoyed look new babies have, like they're thinking, "Put me back!" How much does he look like his big sister?

Only she had more hair.

covariance cupcakes

My stats class had their lab test today, and last week I thought of a way to combine two of my greatest loves - geeking out & baking - into one sweet treat for my students. Behold:

Their extra credit was to correctly identify the formula represented in this cupcake mosaic.

Can anyone identify the formula on the middle cupcake?

I'm a decent baker and geek, but I think I'll leave the cake decorating to my sister.

sequence of events

Bad decisions are can really sneak up on you, especially when there's alcohol involved.

One minute you're playing wiffleball, vanquishing your middle school gym class demons with not 1 but 2 home runs and the catch of a fly ball.

Next thing you know you're celebrating your 16-4 victory with your teammates at a cowboy-themed bar, playing flip-cup, and reuniting with a girl that you worked with 8-10 yrs ago at a swim club.

And before the night ends you have plans for a date with a 23-year-old paralegal from Moldova whose name you can't remember but whom you're pretty sure lives with his mom.

The next morning you wake up with an unhappy stomach and a flimsy hope that you incorrectly entered your number into his phone.

Oh, bad decisions, you get me every time!

retail rant

Why do some people seem so put out when you ask them to do their job? I was at Sephora yesterday and the sales woman was positively gobsmacked that I was asking for assistance with makeup. You would have thought I'd asked her to sell me lamb chops and a carburetor. Do me a favor, sweetie - when you leave work, look at the name of the store where you're employed. Before going into work the next day, google your workplace so you're not caught off guard when someone tells you she's chronically dissatisfied with her eyeliner.