Life would be easier if you could wear your kid like a backpack...

Not to brag, but there's very little that I find intimidating. Or rather, there's very little that I find so intimidating that I actually experience anxiety.

Fast forward to this morning.

The little one has her first doctor's appointment. Aside from the fact that I have to take a cab (which meant I had to do extensive research on how to secure the car seat in a cab, without the base and only the seat belt); I also had to deal with an ice/rain/slush mess outside. So while I have zero problem presenting to senior level executives at work, I had a near mental meltdown over how to get to the f'ing doctors office which is probably less than 2 miles from my house.

The peanut was not cooperating in the crying department so we had to do some quick comfort feeding before I called the cab. (I feel like all I do is whip out my boobs these days.) Then I had to remove a layer because she looked so pitiful and hot. (She sort of resembled that kid from A Christmas Story in the snow suit) Then I had to dig out my duck boots because of the 6 inches of slush I could see at the edge of every curb. So I chucked the kid in the car seat, slapped a paci in her mouth so she didn't freak out and bundled her up. Praying that slugging this car seat around wasn't going to pop open my stitches, I was off to the lobby.

I made it into the cab and got her seat strapped in with help from the driver and I was feeling pretty good (that guy totally got a good tip). I get to the pediatricians and I'm thinking I'm doing pretty well because I'm only a few minutes late. That's when they tell me that my appointment wasn't for another 2 hours. Not 11:45, it was 1:45. Nice. Thankfully they were able to take us early. Husband texted me to get status...he thought the appointment was for 9:30. You would think between two relatively intelligent people we would be able to get our shit together. Yea, not so much.

On the upside, I have birthed an amazon. She's gained her birth weight back and then some. She's also grown almost an inch in length. 90th percentile! I don't find this shocking because her father is 6'3" and her mother has weird long arms and legs like a freaky monkey. Yes, that's right people. A freaky monkey.

Sweet Valley High Anyone?

I have an embarrassing story to tell.

So I'm very bad at bringing books to the airport with me so I usually have to schlep over to the Hudson News and buy one before I go to my gate. Yes I know this is a total waste of money. Nine times out of ten it's some lousy book that I don't remember 10 minutes after I finish it, but the point is that it kept me occupied on the flight.

There are roughly 4 types of books in the airport book store:
1. The Self Help books - and you seriously need some if you're buying that shit in the airport.
2. The God books - this is all inclusive of "I hate God", "I found God", "God Loves You Too" and generally anything with the word Enlightenment in the title. These could also be written by someone famous or sort of famous like that creepy Osteen guy. (I suspect he's really an alien like the people on V - tell me that smile doesn't scream, "I'm really a reptile hiding in a rubber human suit.")
3. The Pseudo Business books - think...7 Habits of Highly Effective People only really, really bad. These may also be written by vaguely famous people whom you care nothing about.
4. The Romance books

I hate the first three so I'm stuck with Romance. I further sub-categorize these into Woman Romance and Man Romance. I think we're all familiar with the former - two people with seemingly impossible odds meet and have serious sexual tension, they can't be together, they shouldn't be together, they do it (must involve pages and pages of narrative about how good the sex is), they profess their undying love, then tragically one of them manages to screw something up (alternate plot line - 3rd party screws something up and causes huge ridiculous misunderstanding), they separate and all looks lost until....they realize they must be together and reunite to live happily ever after. Amen.

The Man Romance is cleverly disguised as spy thrillers, military books & mystery novels. Invariably they follow the same plot line only they include action scenes, guns, gadgets and typically the females involved are hot, in distress and need to be saved by the male character (must involve pages and pages of narrative about how hot the female character is, however sex is covered in roughly a single sentence). Amen.

Infrequently I find a book that doesn't suck. This is what happened when, quite by accident, I picked up Twilight. I knew nothing about it other than the book blurb looked not-sucky. I liked it alot. Probably a little more than I should have. I think I may have reread the ending more than once. I was a little sad when there was nothing left to read.

This is where it gets embarrassing.

My mother sees the book sitting on my entry table and says, "Hey, is this that book that all those 13 year old girls are going crazy over at the mall?". Hmmmmm. Apparently the answer is yes. Much like Harry Potter, this is one of those books that is designed for the "tween" set yet loser adults like me all over the country are reading it anyway. I had absolutely no idea. I'll admit to being a Harry Potter fan without any embarrassment. Somehow this seems slightly less respectable - teen vampire romance? Seriously, what is wrong with me? Apparently my reading comprehension is roughly 7th grade.

This is where it gets really embarrassing.

I discovered today that there are 3 more books in the series. I went to Amazon and bought them all. I think I'm secretly a 13 year old girl and I don't care what any of you have to say.

Don't Forget Your Spandex...

As usual I've been absent from this blog although this time I have an excuse.  I was in South Beach with two of my girlfriends for a long weekend.  Despite some bad weather that was forecasted we had a really relaxing trip.  

Our itinerary was basically some slight variation of this:

10AM: Drag self out of comfy bed to put on bathing suit

10:30: Reserve chaise lounges by the pool, eat breakfast at poolside restaurant

11AM - 2:30PM: sun, pool, sun, read, pool, sun, nap, nap, nap

2:30: eat lunch at poolside restaurant

3PM-5PM: sun, pool, sun, read, nap, sun

5PM-7PMish: relax, shower, get dressed

7:30: Drinks somewhere

9PM: Dinner somewhere

11PM: Drinks somewhere

12 Midnight: Home to bed

It was several very lazy and relaxing days in the sun.  We also ate pretty well.  Between my friend who did most of the planning and the concierge we had some really good reservations.

The first night we ate at La Marea at The Tides Hotel.  We had a great table out on the terrace where I had an excellent view of the drag queens next door. 

The night after we had a drink in the courtyard of the Setai.  This was hands down the most gorgeous hotel we saw the entire trip, followed by dinner at Blue Door over at the Delano.  Really great dinner with the exception of the torrential downpour next to our table.  The risotto more than made up for it.

The last night we hit up Nobu in the Shore Club.  The food was good but the whole place was a little worn out.  Yes, I ate sushi, don't judge.

A few notes about South Beach.  Really spectacular art deco buildings, really spectacularly skanky women.  The women are in terrific shape with clothing they procured at Sluts R Us.  I felt like I was in a more humid version of Wildwood, NJ.  The men were less than spectacular - I saw more than one guy around the pool with an all weather sweater.  The hair sweater is never a good pool side visual...

Sometimes the McDonalds Ain't Such a Bad Idea...

I'm traveling with co-workers in Seattle. None of us are from Seattle and so when lunch rolled around we asked the receptionist where we might find some restaurants. She was most unhelpful in terms of recommendations and so we were on our own. To further illustrate how retarded we all are, we were in separate cars since we all had to go different directions after lunch. So our mini convoy headed out, weaving in and out of shopping malls, randomly calling each other on our cell phones.

"What about that?"
"Meh, let's hit the next strip mall."
"I don't care if it's McDonalds, I'm starving."
"Oh for the love of God just park the car."

And so it went on for 4 or 5 strip malls until someone finally parked and we were presented with two options - a sushi place and a Chinese restaurant. They wanted sushi, I am not supposed to eat sushi in my current state (or more specifically I won't eat sushi in a strip mall). So on we went to the Zen Garden.

The entire menu was pictures of Dim Sum and it seemed to favor chicken feet and other equally appealing things. On the upside there was a perpetually waving cat at the reception desk (like this). They advertise on the website that there is a "Breaktaking Garden". Indeed.

Unfortunately the food was bland and made me feel a bit ill. But it was worth it to watch the pained expression of my one co-worker (a self professed "American Eater") attempt to stuff this crap down his throat. We laughed at him and made jokes about how he was going to make a bee line for McDonalds on his way to his next meeting. He said we were wrong, he planned to check out the vending machine in the office. Nothing a bag of Cheetos can't fix.

So if you find yourself north of Seattle, avoid the Zen Garden, unless of course you want a pork fried dumpling that tastes suspiciously like a Philly cheesesteak and some fried chicken feet...

I'm thinking I need a tracksuit and a side ponytail...

While in London on vacation I learned two new words that I would like to share with everyone.

The first is quite nice - chav. As far as I can tell, the closest descriptor we have on the other side of the pond is wigger. Not nice, but it seems to fit. The only possible discrepancy is the fondness for Burberry plaid that the chavs seem to have. Apparently they are so offensive that Burberry stopped making certain items with the plaid that they favored. When you are so nasty that a major label stops producing something just so you can't drag down their good name, that say influence...and not in a good way.

Then there's slag. This is apparently a unisex insult as well as a noun and a verb. You can be a slag (closest American translation is roughly skank - which I would like to add is one of my personal favorites - it says so much in five letters) or you can slag someone off (which is to insult them but not in a serious way).

Examples of both were plentiful in my friend's neighborhood in southeast London. She compared it to South Philly, her husband compared it to the NorthEast. The prevalence of tracksuits and bad hair made it a toss up in my opinion.

A few other points of note should you wish to visit London soon: You really do get black boogers unless you stay off the Tube. The Tube is massively uncomfortable in any amount of heat or humidity. The bus is nasty and forces you to touch things that people have touched before (probably with unwashed poo dirt hands).

So take some wipes and a few good packs of tissues if you want to check out the chavs and slags.

Icky Germs

A few things about Monday:
1. It was my husband’s birthday
2. I was stuck in the airport in a futile attempt to get to Manchester, NH
3. I was sick, still
This did not make for fun times.

Aside from all of the miserableness, this trip once again reminded me that not everyone washes their hands after they pee. Airport bathrooms are a special place. Is that really so hard to do – soap, water, scrub? I thought it was common knowledge that bathrooms are dirty and so you should wash up before you leave. This is why there’s probably poo on your keyboard right now. Your co-workers can’t be bothered to wash their hands and so they track poo dirt all over the office and despite the fact that you wash well and use a paper towel to open the door you still end up touching the copier or the coffee maker and BAM – poo dirt.

Thanks people.

Every time I shake someone’s hand I wonder if they’ve washed or not. I guess this is why my mother used to tell me to keep my fingers out of my mouth. And since I watched the movie “Knocked Up” I know that poo dirt also causes conjunctivitis. So while you're at it, keep your fingers out of your eyes too.

I’m also shocked by people that put their handbags on the bathroom floor. I know that luggage is dirty and I accept that and treat it accordingly, but your purse? I sometimes put my bag on my kitchen counter or my bed. As a result, it most certainly doesn’t need to be on the floor of a public bathroom.

It's a bit like those scary news stories about bacteria in hotel rooms. You know some big fat naked guy was sitting in the desk chair but you don't want to think about the poo dirt on your chair or you'll end up with some freakish OCD type complex that forces you carry around Lysol wipes and medical booties for your feet. I'll bet he runs around the room naked wiping snot on all the door handles too.

On second thought, Lysol wipes are pretty easy to transport. Think how nice it would be to wipe everything down.....that's not crazy, right?

Taxidermy & Bail Bonds - Jewels of the Sophisticated South

Clearly I’ve been sucking lately. Work has me traveling clear across the country and back several time before I ultimately leave for vacation in a few weeks and I’m beat. I also have nothing productive to say unless you want to hear awful stories about dirty people from various airports around the country. I think you would rather I spare you the details.

This week it was Atlanta, GA. However I found myself in Marietta which is not quite the same thing. On my way to dinner the first night I drove past 4 pawn shops (one which had some deer taxidermy strapped to the roof), 3 bail bonds place, one compost facility, a detention center, a landfill, a place that had $99 suits for all occasions and at least a dozen Waffle Houses. Nothing screams affluent suburb quite like all those things in combination.

This is a far cry from what I remember of Atlanta. I spent 9 months here in my early twenties. It was hands down the best place I ever worked - great restaurants and bars, good times plus I was young and perpetually drunk. This time…sober with deer taxidermy. Very weird.

And finally, since my brain is fried, and I have little to say, I choose to tell you a few things I recently shared with my co-worker – I’m pretty sure he thinks I was raised in some weird hippie compound
1. I at fried chicken for the first time in my twenties because my mother never fried anything, ever
2. She also didn’t let us eat processed sugar – I had 3 cereal choices as a kid – Cheerios, All Bran and Grape Nuts
3. I thought wheat germ on ice cream was good and little honey sesame treats were like kiddie crack
4. I didn’t know what Mac and Cheese was until I arrived at college – I had never seen/eaten it before
5. We only ate natural peanut butter and whole wheat bread.

This is especially weird because I’m traveling with a guy we’ll call Bob (to protect the somewhat innocent) who regularly eats PB&J and hot dogs. Not that I haven’t had the occasional children’s menu snack, but he claims these are his dietary staples. I find this far more terrifying than my dirty hippy list above.

And so, in the next two weeks I have to go to Portland & Boston. At that point I’m going to check out and go on vacation. Do not despair, I’ve recruited a guest blogger to keep you entertained. Perhaps she’ll be more diligent than I’ve been lately. I think you’ll like her, she makes me laugh. She’s a fabulous individual who lives in the middle of the country. She likes the occasional martini and cigarette (which is why we got on so well). Beyond that I’ll let her tell you whatever she wants.

Dear Frommer's - Please Update your Travel Guide

This weekend we went up to NYC for a friend's birthday. I thought Amtrak would be a pleasant and quick way to get there. I was somewhere in North Philly staring out the window when I saw two homeless dudes having sex right next to the train tracks. Mind you this was at 5 o'clock in the afternoon in broad daylight. I'm not really a fan of watching random people have sex. There's a reason why amateur porn doesn't sell as well as the real deal - its unattractive. Watching people that don't look good get it on is pretty icky, but somehow it seems even worse when they look like crackheads.

My husband of course noticed nothing. I've included this little map so you can avert your eyes as you pass the area that I like to call "Homeless Sexy Time". Do not, under any circumstances look to the right while going Northbound in the red circled area. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The rest of the ride wasn't helped by the constant chatter of the rodeo clown looking fool next to us. He was apparently from Lancaster and decided he was going to explain the Amish religion and its people to the Asian lady across from him. She clearly had no idea what an Amish person was and I'm sure his description didn't help. "Y'know they don't have cars or lights." She looked confused.

A 300 year old religious sect and that's his explanation...

You know what...I'm pretty sure the two dudes back there having sexy time don't have lights in their cardboard boxes or a car and something tells me they ain't Amish.

Despite the train ride, we had a good evening at Jimmy's No. 43 in the East Village. Pretty good selection of beer and a nice atmosphere. This was only improved upon when we stuffed ourselves the next morning at Le Pain Quotidien with bread and praline spread. Since we first went to this place in Brussels we never pass up a chance to stop. (There aren't too many things I would rather be doing than eating their black bean humus tartine.)

We then dragged our food stuffed bellies to the Whitney for the Biennial. I'll start by saying I like modern art and I'm not one of those people that say stupid things like - "Man, I could totally go out and paint a bunch of Campbells soup cans, that's not art." But I do have to say that I'm quite certain some of these people got their asses kicked in high school. Case in point - look at this thing. Do you remember when Beetlejuice's arms got all long and spindly? That's what this looks like. Or maybe like black rubber sausages flying out of the wall.

I did see alot that I liked by Matthew Brannon & Karen Kilimnik. You can check them out if you like although I recommend paying the $15 and seeing it for yourself. Plus if you do you can stuff yourself full of black bean tartines and isn't that really what it's all about?

So after a good day I acquiesced and let my husband talk me into taking NJ Transit home. Immediately I was visually and audibly assaulted by these people who were training their two year old for some sort of child fighting ring. Sort of like dog fighting involving diapers and small people. They entertained themselves by letting her slap both of them wildly. Then when she would stop, her mother would antagonize her by saying "Daddy's mine!" which would send the kid into a wailing tizzy. She would hit her mother and then put a death grip on her father while screaming "Noooooo Daddy Mine!". Good times, good times.

That was my only source of entertainment until Wesley the Costco Pimp got on the train (yes he still had his work name tag on). This dude was a dead ringer for an older, drunker version of Gregory Hines. Three big rings on his right hand, a fedora and matching tie & pocket square. It started with him screaming somewhere behind me on the train. I think he suffered from Tourettes-Narcolepsy. It's new - screaming profanity one minute and falling asleep the next.

I think they should but this in the tourist guides - Travel by train from Philadelphia to NYC - see Homeless Sexy Time, Rodeo Clowns, Two Year Old Fighting Machines and Tourettes-Narcolepsy. And they say the bus is bad...

Things to do in Denver When You're...Actually in the Suburbs

I just came back from a short trip to Denver. In all the times I’ve been to Denver I have never once made it to Denver proper. I drive from the airport to the suburbs and then back to the airport. I hear there’s a city somewhere, I think they may be lying to me...

This trip was made better thanks to my friend at work who introduced me to the deliciousness of Caribou Coffee. Think: Better tasting than Starbucks and environmentally crunchier. She also took me to a donut shop called LaMars. There appears to be a fierce debate around which is better, Krispy Kreme or LaMars. I did not settle this debate and chose not to compare “donut to donut” (aka glazed goodness) and instead got a Bavarian Crème donut that was slightly larger than my head. Since I was with coworkers I refrained from sticking my grubby little fingers into the crème hole to scoop it out by hand and opted instead to use a fork. It was delish but the crash after the sugar high reminded me why I don’t eat donuts for breakfast.

The true highlight of my trip was going through security in Denver. I’ll start by saying that a few weeks ago I discovered that the TSA had started a blog. I don’t know too many people that have a lot of love for the TSA. As a result, you have to give a little credit to these poor TSA bloggers who keep coming back for more abuse day after day. Anyway, I read about this new trial they’re doing in Salt Lake and Denver – self selecting screening lines based on “traveling skill”. Can you say BRILLIANT? Separate lines for experienced business travelers, casual travelers and families. Clearly I am a dork and I was super excited about hitting that black diamond line. I was also nervous about measuring up. I spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about what I was going to do when I got up there. I needed to measure up as an "experienced traveler"*. If I got flagged for self selecting incorrectly I would never forgive myself. The TSA lady checking tickets at the front of the line wished me luck.

Here are some highlights...
No one screeched at me to remove my laptop from my bag
No one defined “liquids” 35 different ways
In fact, no one said a single thing to me - it was actually quiet
There wasn’t a single old lady or child in the line with me
The TSA people didn’t order me around like someone with special needs
The screeners seemed much happier than normal - I think I actually saw one of them smile
The time from shoe removal to shoe replacement was less than 60 seconds

Dare I say it was actually a pleasant experience?

According to USA Today ten more airports have expressed interest in the pilot program as well.

Finally someone shows a little respect for my perfectly packed quart sized 3-1-1 Ziploc bag. Rock on TSA, thanks for the love - right back at ya.


*For the record, I wasn't the only dork. We were all like crazy people trying to one up each other to get through security the fastest. There was quite a bit of shoe throwing & laptop chucking going on.

A Penny Saved is a Penny Some Crackhead Throws Away

The week started with MLK which is an uneventful holiday by any standard. I decided that a girls movie and lunch day with my mother and sister was an appropriate activity to celebrate my birthday and the day off from work.

My journey began at 30th Street Station, just in time to observe a homeless man fishing pennies out of his pocket and flinging them on the ground. Then he mumbled out a request for a light…for his joint. This guy looked like he had no business throwing away those Lincolns and he certainly didn’t need to be smoking anything.

I needed a coffee so I went inside. Somewhere between removing the lid and stirring in a Splenda I was ambushed by two women inquiring if I would be open to a public opinion poll. I should have known better but I had some time to kill before my train.

Woman: We’re trying to get a sense whether the public has ever heard of the Female Image of God
Me (in my head): Oh dear God, why me…why is it ALWAYS me? Do you hate me that much that you send these lunatics out to hunt me down.
Me (for real): Ummm, you mean like Wicca? (you have to admit that was a good guess...)
Woman: No, I mean like the prophecies that talk about the female form of God. (This is where I zoned out and she discussed something that I do not remember for a good 60 seconds) Would you agree that where there’s a father and children, then there’s a mother?
Me (for real): Um…yea. Isn’t that Mary?
Woman: Oh you’re Christian (in a strange tone that suggested I might be a worthy adversary) No, Mary is the mother of Christ, we’re talking about the Mother of God.
Me (in my head): Where does this madness end. God is like an earthworm. He gets it done all by himself – asexual reproduction – bang! There’s Adam and Eve. He slices, dices, juliennes and then on the 7th day he rests.
Me (for real): I would love to chat but I was raised brainwashed by Catholics. I gotta go.
Woman (in dire voice like I was about to irreparably damage my soul): Do you want to be brainwashed forever?
Me (in my head): Why don’t you ask the guy who keeps you in the commune and forces you into the train station to recruit people that question?
Me (for real): No, that’s why I'm not practicing anything right now.

I'm not sure if she heard me as I was doing a panicked run/walk sort of thing to Stairway 9. Apparently the crazies had the day off as well. Next time I may think about renting a car instead…

Trenton is Nice this Time of Year

A few weeks ago a friend of mine from college emailed to let me know that all those years of taking acting classes as a hobby had resulted in her landing a part in a small play in New York City. She invited me to attend. I called another friend in the city and made plans to meet for a drink before and dinner after the show. I booked a train and planned to leave work an hour early to get up there on time.

I arrived at the train station to discover that my train was delayed by an hour. This was not looking promising. I had a somewhat circular conversation with an Amtrak employee around his level of confidence that the train was actually going to leave in an hour. Doing the math, if Amtrak actually came through, that would put me in Penn Station at 6:30ish. No guarantees.

I decided to take a chance and jump on NJ Transit. If the connection in Trenton is quick I could be there in 2 1/2 hours definitely. So I jammed my Amtrak tickets in my bag and bought NJ Transit tickets. I jumped on the R7 and prayed for the best. I was on my way, hurtling through New Jersey jammed next to a smelly dude who was reading the Metro.

An hour later we pulled into Trenton and I raced to look at the board. I was screwed. The next train wasn't for another 35 minutes. I wouldn't get into NYC until just before 7PM. Given the production was only 45 minutes long and I would still have to get to the theater there just wasn't enough time.

Clearly I had rolled the dice and lost.

I called my friend and told her the bad news. She laughed at me and told me to go home and watch it on DVD some other time. So I bought yet another ticket and headed back to Philly.

So basically I paid $20 to take a ride to Trenton, buy some trail mix and then come back. I love New Jersey.



Photo Credit: www.easternsigntech.com

Two Reasons for Me to Visit London

Because she will hate it, I will blog about two of my favorite things in the same post. Forever memorializing this moment. My friend "K" in London and Duran Duran.

First I was very sad when my friend moved to London. She and her husband were the only two people who had stuck it out in Philly with us. Despite the fact that she was a Philly hater, she stayed. Although she openly plotted for years to move, she still stayed. Then in August she made good on her threats. Here's the problem, they were our try out a new restaurant friends, our NYE friends, our get wasted in the same bar over and over again friends, they were the friends that actually took the time to have house parties and introduce all their friends to each other. And sadly, they are now gone. On to bigger and better places and we are left all alone. So to lessen my withdrawal I told her she should start writing a blog so we can hear about all those classic American in London moments.

It's only been 4 months, but she's finally gotten a computer and a high speed connection. So, here it is. http://www.lostonthetubes.blogspot.com/

And now, on to my forever undying love of Duran Duran. They are, in a word, my mostest favorite. I love Simon LeBon. I also love New Romantic music. This is the ultimate perfection - like chocolate and milk or champagne and caviar or yogurt and granola (shut up, it's perfect in our house).

Anyway, Duran Duran recently came out with a new album in November and I LOVE IT. Red Carpet Massacre is actually better than Astronaut which was pretty darn good. They did some good collaborations with Justin Timberlake and Timbaland. Updated their sound without losing that distinct - "we like wedge hair cuts, hair gel and androgynous clothing" Duran Duran sound.

Did you know there's a National Duran Duran Appreciation Day? August 10th. Which Nation you ask? I have no idea but I'll celebrate it. They also have a presence in Second Life. While that's really only exciting for second lifers, it's still cool.

I find it interesting that two of my favorite things exist on an island together. Perhaps that alone is worth going to visit. Maybe there's a museum or something. Perhaps I can stalk Simon LeBon's house? Just a thought...

So in summary, read her blog & go out to iTunes and buy the first 4 tracks on the new album.

Whiskey Makes your Face Ugly and other Useful Observations

So I'll apologize for my lameness lately. We were in CA for a wedding last week and far too busy drinking wine. I'm sure most of you would agree that wine drinking is more important than sitting in front of a computer.

However, I was thinking about writing and as a result I have a few critical lessons learned or useful observations, if you will.

#1 Avoid the “direct, but not really direct” flight.
I have an unnatural love of Southwest Airlines. My co-workers do not understand this. They’re busy being mileage/airline status junkies (you know who you are!) and I'm busy loving Southwest. Those Southwest people crack me up and best of all, they're usually on time. It’s a novel concept when your local airport is a US Airways hub. I decided that since I had a free ticket I would use them to book our vacation. I knew I had a connection in Vegas on the way out, but I did not know we were ALSO stopping in Pittsburgh. This plane was nothing more than a giant bus in the sky. We simply landed, picked up some more people and then took off again. The same thing happened on the way back but twice instead of once. I was in six airports over as many days....that is bad.

Quotes of the Flight:
Husband watching people board in Pittsburgh: “Is it just me or are all these people missing necks?”
Taking off from Orange County: Flight attendant whispered in the PA, "Shhhhh, we're flying over rich people’s houses".

#2 Carpool lanes are cool! Minivans are not.
We got a sweet deal on Orbitz for a weekly rental. I had never rented from Dollar before and now I know why - we were riding in style in an electric blue minivan.

Since there were three of us we avoided lots of traffic in the carpool lanes and we went through the toll booth for FREE - it's like Christmas in October. As we pulled up to the toll with our $4 the guy shouted at us "CARPOOL!". Being from the wasteful state of Pennsylvania we had no idea why this guy wouldn't take our money and was yelling at us. Apparently that means you ride for free - I love these tree huggers.

We had a really excellent dinner our first night at Barndiva. (www.barndiva.com) Should you ever find yourself in Healdsburg, CA it’s a lovely little place with really killer food.

We then kicked off the official festivities Friday night with what my friend Kelly likes to call a backyard BBQ. This was nicer than most actual weddings. She's a bit obsessive with her event planning, but that's why we love her. Great food, a bluegrass band, a fire pit and lots and lots of wine.

#3 Drinking too much at wedding events can be highly entertaining for party guests, but may piss off your spouse.
I had been careful with alcohol consumption for the first two days in preparation for the wedding. I can’t say as much for the Bride’s brother-in-law. Our other friend commented that he must have incredible balance. His feet were firmly planted on the ground while his torso swayed at a dangerous angle. He later walked up to a group of people (including his mother-in-law) and asked “Anybody got any weed?”. Classic….. His wife looked like she was ready to kill him. He topped off the evening by attempting to lean against the wall of the outdoor tent….as you can imagine, that didn’t go so well. We’ve all been on both sides of that fence. The drunk side is far more fun. Cheers to the brother-in-law!

#4 Need a priest, no problem www.rentapriest.com
The wedding was beautiful. The ceremony was at sunset overlooking a gorgeous golf course. It was almost too perfect. There were wild turkey and deer running around. Bishop Carlos married them. As we all know Catholic priests don’t do weddings outside the church. This guy was a an Orthodox Catholic and apparently they don’t mind the country club and the wild turkey. Seriously…..they found him on the Internet.

Favorite line from the wedding service:
Bishop Carlos during the wedding vows: “If you’re Christian, pray with us. If you’re an atheist, why not just in case”

So it was time and I attacked the wedding bar with vigor. Champagne, wine, dancing, hiding from the scary photographer…all was well until I encountered the B&B. Bed and Breakfast you say? No. It was The B&B Lounge. Our after party. Sort of like the road house equivalent for wine country. If I were smart I would have stopped drinking at this point. However I am not and so I did not. Hence...

#5 Whiskey makes your face ugly.
I can't take credit for this observation. It was sage advice from my mother-in-law. She once told me that I should never drink whiskey because it makes your face ugly. This may in fact be true but I think the statement needs to be amended to read – “Whiskey makes your face ugly but sometimes it makes your face look nice to people from whom you should definitely stay away”. I decided at some point that I needed to tell the groom's 6'4" friend that I would like to do shots of whiskey. It really wasn't my fault. He was making fun of me for drinking coke. It's an unwritten rule that if you're really drunk and someone makes fun of you for stopping consumption you should immediately challenge them to drink the worst thing you can think of just to shut them up.

After a few shots of Beam I stumbled upon Beef Jerky man. Maybe he found me, who knows. I'm not so sure he was speaking English at that point but he told me I was delicious and proceeded to feed me beef jerky. It was probably not wise to eat it but I did anyway. It almost seemed rude to refuse since he just paid me compliment….I think. My husband decided it was time to take me home.

The next morning was bad. It involved the bathroom, a complete inability to pack or shower and a lot of self loathing. I made it as far as Kelly’s couch. I then ate half a bagel, prayed that it would stay down and pulled a blanket over my head. My friends took pictures. The groom later showed up and told me while he was happy I had such fun at his wedding he felt that my current state was payback for my own wedding and how hung over he was. I have such good friends.

So the moral of the story is, if you plan to drink whiskey with a guy eating beef jerky, leave the minivan and the rented priest elsewhere because it’s not a pretty sight. Oh yea, and remember to pray, just in case.

Traveling

So there's this cool site ( http://douweosinga.com/projects/visitedcountries/ ) that lets you map out all the places you've visited. I decided to compare my travels to my husbands.

It seems I'm at 4% of the world and he's at 11%. That's insane to think about how much is left , but I suppose work and lack of funds have an impact on that. On a high note, I've been in 62% of the US. Work probably had quite a bit to do with that. I don't know that I would consider my work travel "seeing" a city or state. Sometimes I get to see the office, a hotel and, if I'm lucky, the local bar.

There have been a few instances when I dragged my co-workers out to see things that annoyed them (I secretly think they enjoyed it).

I saw the OKC bombing memorial which was awesome. Conveniently it was nighttime which, as it turns out, is the best time to see it. That happened to work out since that was the only time I could go.. http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org/index.php

The Art Institute of Chicago....you really can't pass up a chance to see Nighthawks in person. I don't know that I love it, but it's iconic. http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/amer/highlight_item?acc=1942.51

You haven't lived until you've eaten Burnt Ends in KC - http://www.jackstackbbq.com/ mmmmm, meat.

I don't know if this qualifies as fun necessarily, but we went. http://www.gatewayarch.com/Arch/index.aspx What was really cool about the whole experience was how they get you up there. If you think about it, you have to ride up in an elevator that goes sideways. Yes, it does make you a little queasy when you look down from the top..... A boss I had later in life, not the one I visited this with, told me he peed on the arch. He then proceeded to laugh like a lunatic. Needless to say he didn't last very long.

Been to the original McCormick & Schmicks in Portland, OR. Guess what, it's the same as the one down the street....

Drove from Seattle to Portland instead of flying - awesome drive - got to see Mt. Rainier as well as gorgeous scenery.

For those of you who know me, you know I don't eat meat on the bone. It skeeves me out. The one and only time I broke this rule was at Mary Macs in Atlanta, GA. http://www.marymacs.com/ Many of you may know Mrs. J as well and so you also know that we don't "fry" anything in her house. As a result, this was my first run in with fried chicken and good lord I could have eaten 30 chickens fried that day. Screw the trans fats that was a little slice of heart attack heaven. And don't even ask me about the Mac & Cheese....

And San Antonio would not have been complete without a few drunken evenings on the Riverwalk http://www.thesanantonioriverwalk.com/ . The Alamo on the other hand was about the size of my garage and the first time I drove past it on my way to the office, I blinked and missed it.

And since right now I can't think of anymore places worth writing about I'll tell you about one I was dragged to and hated. It's like a consumer disneyland hell with alcohol and children, fat people and tank tops, lots of artificial sand and Jimmy Buffett......you get the picture http://www.universalorlando.com/cw_index.html .

PS - Don't eat at "Marley's" - I did and I drank enough to kill a large farm animal. Then I bought a Jamaica tee shirt. Enough said. No good can come of purchasing tourist merchandise.