Thursday, May 27, 2004
Bah-stahn Bound
After the week from hell at work, I am Boston bound. John and I are going up to visit Jenny, Adam and their adorable baby known as Doodles (his blog name). We will take in the Freedom Trail, see Ol' Ironsides, go to a Red Sox game and hang around Harvard. We'll rest and relax. If Jenny lets me use her computer, I may blog while I'm there, but if not... you'll live. I'll be back Monday night.
Doodles:
After the week from hell at work, I am Boston bound. John and I are going up to visit Jenny, Adam and their adorable baby known as Doodles (his blog name). We will take in the Freedom Trail, see Ol' Ironsides, go to a Red Sox game and hang around Harvard. We'll rest and relax. If Jenny lets me use her computer, I may blog while I'm there, but if not... you'll live. I'll be back Monday night.
Doodles:
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Employer
I'm not going to discuss my day. Let's just say my eyes are bleeding and I came this close to screaming "THIS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR" and running out of my office never to return. But nevermind that misery.
Today, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, TODAY I became an employer. Yes, I hired a cleaning lady. Look, I work 50+ hours a week, I go to graduate school two nights a week, I am planning a wedding long distance and I am the captain of my soccer team (that last one only occupies about an hour of time each week, but dammit, it's the principle of it!). I deserve not to have to spend my weekends losing The Battle of the Cat Hair. Right?
Anyway, I hired a lovely woman, who comes highly recommended and already cleans my downstairs neighbor's apartment. She has been with my neighbor's parents for years. She's trustworthy and she is going to make my life roses and margaritas. Right?
It's only fair... I work really, really hard. It is a small price to pay to have someone come in every other Monday to do the big stuff. Right?
So, why do I feel so guilty?
I'm not going to discuss my day. Let's just say my eyes are bleeding and I came this close to screaming "THIS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR" and running out of my office never to return. But nevermind that misery.
Today, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, TODAY I became an employer. Yes, I hired a cleaning lady. Look, I work 50+ hours a week, I go to graduate school two nights a week, I am planning a wedding long distance and I am the captain of my soccer team (that last one only occupies about an hour of time each week, but dammit, it's the principle of it!). I deserve not to have to spend my weekends losing The Battle of the Cat Hair. Right?
Anyway, I hired a lovely woman, who comes highly recommended and already cleans my downstairs neighbor's apartment. She has been with my neighbor's parents for years. She's trustworthy and she is going to make my life roses and margaritas. Right?
It's only fair... I work really, really hard. It is a small price to pay to have someone come in every other Monday to do the big stuff. Right?
So, why do I feel so guilty?
Monday, May 24, 2004
Biting the bullet
Today is a day that will live in infamy. Today, due to the prodding of my car insurance company (more like threatening to drop me than prodding, really), I will finally admit that I live here. In New Fucking Jersey. My apologies to those of you who have admitted this a long time ago and like it here. It's not that I hate New Jersey. Well, okay, maybe I do just a little. It's just that if I admit I live here and that this situation is not temporary, I will have to admit that I no longer live in New Orleans. And that, my friends, sucks ass.
Anyway, today, I will be going to get a New Jersey driver's license. Next stop? The apocalypse.
Actually, this is not the first time that I have gone to get my New Jersey driver's license. No, this is the THIRD. The first two times, I left work a wee bit early, arrived at the DMV in Wayne, NJ at about 5:20 PM. And waited in the hellacious line until I was only several persons from the door.
Which they locked. In my face. While laughing at my pleas.
The DMV stays open until 7:00 PM on Mondays. I am leaving my office today at 2:30 PM. If they lock the door in my face again... Well, if you hear about a woman going insane and choking a bunch of New Jersey DMV employees... you will have a pretty good idea of who that may have been.
Update The apocalypse is upon us. I have, in my grubby little hands, a New Jersey driver's license. You know what else? I just made the comment to John, "honey, if we had wireless for the laptop, I could blog while I'm going to the bathroom." Then as he rolled his eyes, I realized I could blog ABOUT going to the bathroom... WHILE DOING IT! See, this is what happens when you get a New Jersey driver's license--you go insane.
Today is a day that will live in infamy. Today, due to the prodding of my car insurance company (more like threatening to drop me than prodding, really), I will finally admit that I live here. In New Fucking Jersey. My apologies to those of you who have admitted this a long time ago and like it here. It's not that I hate New Jersey. Well, okay, maybe I do just a little. It's just that if I admit I live here and that this situation is not temporary, I will have to admit that I no longer live in New Orleans. And that, my friends, sucks ass.
Anyway, today, I will be going to get a New Jersey driver's license. Next stop? The apocalypse.
Actually, this is not the first time that I have gone to get my New Jersey driver's license. No, this is the THIRD. The first two times, I left work a wee bit early, arrived at the DMV in Wayne, NJ at about 5:20 PM. And waited in the hellacious line until I was only several persons from the door.
Which they locked. In my face. While laughing at my pleas.
The DMV stays open until 7:00 PM on Mondays. I am leaving my office today at 2:30 PM. If they lock the door in my face again... Well, if you hear about a woman going insane and choking a bunch of New Jersey DMV employees... you will have a pretty good idea of who that may have been.
Update The apocalypse is upon us. I have, in my grubby little hands, a New Jersey driver's license. You know what else? I just made the comment to John, "honey, if we had wireless for the laptop, I could blog while I'm going to the bathroom." Then as he rolled his eyes, I realized I could blog ABOUT going to the bathroom... WHILE DOING IT! See, this is what happens when you get a New Jersey driver's license--you go insane.
We knew it was coming, but....
I was all set to tell you about my weekend, but I instead, I sit, stunned into silence by last night's episode of the Sopranos. Talk amongst yourselves.
I was all set to tell you about my weekend, but I instead, I sit, stunned into silence by last night's episode of the Sopranos. Talk amongst yourselves.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
If you are easily grossed out, I suggest that you read no further
Because I am anal retentive and because John is sweet, kind and patient, we have a System for doing just about everything. The System usually involves my way of doing things because... well, because my way is better. John may disagree with me on this, but because He Was Warned when we moved in together that I have a System and that for the sake of harmony, he should not fight me on this, he has learned to accept the System.
Anyway, we have a System for changing the cat litter. Mind you, we use the crystal litter because it absorbs odor way, way better and we have a gigantic igloo litterbox because my ctas like their privacy and well, I respect that. Got a problem with that? The System is such: John goes into the crawl space and removes cat litter. (Yes, our cats have their own room where the litter lives--its original incarnation was as a storage crawl space, but...) John sets down opened litter box full of big, gigantic, enormous, humungous stinkin' cat shit. We both gag. Then, I hand John a large garbage bag (always two-ply, dammit. Always two ply--we won't go into how we arrived at THAT conclusion--you can guess). He unfurls said garbage bag and holds it open. I pick up open litterbox, carefully insert it ALL THE WAY into open garbage bag and turn and dump its contents deep inside the garbage bag. Then John takes the bag o'shit downstairs to the outside garbage can and I wash and refill the litterbox and replace it into the crawl space.
Tonight, we decided to mix up the System. I held the bag and John proceeded to dump the litterbox's contents.
ALL OVER MY LEGS AND THE F@#$ING FLOOR.
I love myretarded moron sweet, wonderful fiance. THIS is what happens when you fuck with my System, dammit. Have we learned our lesson?
Because I am anal retentive and because John is sweet, kind and patient, we have a System for doing just about everything. The System usually involves my way of doing things because... well, because my way is better. John may disagree with me on this, but because He Was Warned when we moved in together that I have a System and that for the sake of harmony, he should not fight me on this, he has learned to accept the System.
Anyway, we have a System for changing the cat litter. Mind you, we use the crystal litter because it absorbs odor way, way better and we have a gigantic igloo litterbox because my ctas like their privacy and well, I respect that. Got a problem with that? The System is such: John goes into the crawl space and removes cat litter. (Yes, our cats have their own room where the litter lives--its original incarnation was as a storage crawl space, but...) John sets down opened litter box full of big, gigantic, enormous, humungous stinkin' cat shit. We both gag. Then, I hand John a large garbage bag (always two-ply, dammit. Always two ply--we won't go into how we arrived at THAT conclusion--you can guess). He unfurls said garbage bag and holds it open. I pick up open litterbox, carefully insert it ALL THE WAY into open garbage bag and turn and dump its contents deep inside the garbage bag. Then John takes the bag o'shit downstairs to the outside garbage can and I wash and refill the litterbox and replace it into the crawl space.
Tonight, we decided to mix up the System. I held the bag and John proceeded to dump the litterbox's contents.
ALL OVER MY LEGS AND THE F@#$ING FLOOR.
I love my
You Welcome
I have been accused of being a grammar nazi. Really, I'm not that bad. No, I swear...
But... please, please, PLEASE if you say "you welcome" to me after I say "thank you" to you AGAIN, my head will explode.
You don't want my head to explode, do you?
I have been accused of being a grammar nazi. Really, I'm not that bad. No, I swear...
But... please, please, PLEASE if you say "you welcome" to me after I say "thank you" to you AGAIN, my head will explode.
You don't want my head to explode, do you?
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
The Wisdom of the Wolf
Dick Wolf, that is. Last night I attended the annual William S. Paley Lecture at the Museum of Radio and Television. The speaker was the incomparable Dick Wolf.
Dick discussed the genesis of Law & Order (the only show sold to three different networks before it finally aired on NBC!), the creative process (a four act story arc with rising action!), where he sees the "brand" (not franchise) going (video game tie-ins!) and a host of other topics, including a hilarious story about his days as an account exec at a now defunct large ad agency and his infamous pitch to National Air that resulted in the "I'm Cheryl, Fly Me" campaign in the 1970s (which caused NOW to spray his ad agency's offices with paint).
There was about 100 people there, 25 or so of them Law & Order producers, writers and staff people. I sat next to the president of Wolf Films, Peter Jankowski (who looks about my age!) and behind the producer of Law & Order, Jeffrey Hayes. Dick spoke for about 30 minutes, then opened up the floor for questions. It was exceedingly interesting.
Dick made one remark that particularly resonated with me,
"The life lessons that you learn happen as you live your life. You don't realize you're learning anything until much later." (or something like that, I'm paraphrasing).
Dick Wolf, that is. Last night I attended the annual William S. Paley Lecture at the Museum of Radio and Television. The speaker was the incomparable Dick Wolf.
Dick discussed the genesis of Law & Order (the only show sold to three different networks before it finally aired on NBC!), the creative process (a four act story arc with rising action!), where he sees the "brand" (not franchise) going (video game tie-ins!) and a host of other topics, including a hilarious story about his days as an account exec at a now defunct large ad agency and his infamous pitch to National Air that resulted in the "I'm Cheryl, Fly Me" campaign in the 1970s (which caused NOW to spray his ad agency's offices with paint).
There was about 100 people there, 25 or so of them Law & Order producers, writers and staff people. I sat next to the president of Wolf Films, Peter Jankowski (who looks about my age!) and behind the producer of Law & Order, Jeffrey Hayes. Dick spoke for about 30 minutes, then opened up the floor for questions. It was exceedingly interesting.
Dick made one remark that particularly resonated with me,
"The life lessons that you learn happen as you live your life. You don't realize you're learning anything until much later." (or something like that, I'm paraphrasing).
Monday, May 17, 2004
F@#$, S*&%, B*#@^
Remember when you first learned so-called “dirty words”? You were eight or nine or ten. You would roll them over in your mouth, savoring every syllable—feeling so grown up and tantalizingly naughty. You would walk around, muttering “fuck, shit, bitch, fuck, shit, bitch” under your breath. You remember that feeling, don’t you?
Yesterday, John and I took a day trip to see Princeton’s campus. We walked around in the warm sunshine, enjoying the sights around us—ivy covered buildings, copper lions adorning the entryway to Nassau Hall, originally dedicated in 1756. We also looked enviously at these children of privilege. They of boundless possibilities and limitless finances. Ah, well, I sighed, they will grow up, too. Then they will deal with bills and headaches and stress and lowered expectations.
Anyway, we were strolling on the main drag of campus and passed a couple of little girls eating ice cream. They were eight or nine years old, dressed expensively. Children of professors, I assumed. As we passed them, one girl said to the other,
“I hate this fucking ice cream. It doesn’t fucking fill me up. Fuck.”
The other girl replied, “fuck it. It fucking sucks!” They both laughed uproariously.
Someday, John and I will have a kid like this. And we will scold him or her when we catch him muttering “fuck, shit, bitch, fuck, shit, bitch.” It’s funny, I catch myself thinking about lowered expectations. What I thought my life would be when I was in college isn’t anything like it is now.
But lowered expectations? Nah, everything great still lies ahead. If anything, my expectations are still growing. Every day.
Remember when you first learned so-called “dirty words”? You were eight or nine or ten. You would roll them over in your mouth, savoring every syllable—feeling so grown up and tantalizingly naughty. You would walk around, muttering “fuck, shit, bitch, fuck, shit, bitch” under your breath. You remember that feeling, don’t you?
Yesterday, John and I took a day trip to see Princeton’s campus. We walked around in the warm sunshine, enjoying the sights around us—ivy covered buildings, copper lions adorning the entryway to Nassau Hall, originally dedicated in 1756. We also looked enviously at these children of privilege. They of boundless possibilities and limitless finances. Ah, well, I sighed, they will grow up, too. Then they will deal with bills and headaches and stress and lowered expectations.
Anyway, we were strolling on the main drag of campus and passed a couple of little girls eating ice cream. They were eight or nine years old, dressed expensively. Children of professors, I assumed. As we passed them, one girl said to the other,
“I hate this fucking ice cream. It doesn’t fucking fill me up. Fuck.”
The other girl replied, “fuck it. It fucking sucks!” They both laughed uproariously.
Someday, John and I will have a kid like this. And we will scold him or her when we catch him muttering “fuck, shit, bitch, fuck, shit, bitch.” It’s funny, I catch myself thinking about lowered expectations. What I thought my life would be when I was in college isn’t anything like it is now.
But lowered expectations? Nah, everything great still lies ahead. If anything, my expectations are still growing. Every day.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll - Blogger Style
Okay, not so much sex as booty shakin'... not so much drugs unless a lot of sangria counts and, well, the rock n' roll was of the brass band jazz variety, but you get the picture. So much fun was had.
The dinner - fantastic. Great service, great food, great company and hilarious conversation.
The drinks - yummy sangria, girlie planter's punch (won't tell you who was drinking THAT!) and potent caipirinhas.
The music - funky grooves that made me feel like I was floating. And, Mr. Wolf has mad skills in getting primo positioning -- we were close enough to touch the band (and did several times when they shook my hand).
The serendipitous limo that came along as I started to doubt my abilities in cab-hailing - hell, yeah. Riding in luxury really is the new black (not text message flirting as SOME people thought!). Although, I have to admit, perhaps the correct response to Mike Wolf's question of "what should I do with this limo after we drop you off?" shouldn't have been "pick up hookers!" The limo drivers eyebrows were, indeed, raised.
And, Mike, Anila and Gerry, let's do it again really soon.
Okay, not so much sex as booty shakin'... not so much drugs unless a lot of sangria counts and, well, the rock n' roll was of the brass band jazz variety, but you get the picture. So much fun was had.
The dinner - fantastic. Great service, great food, great company and hilarious conversation.
The drinks - yummy sangria, girlie planter's punch (won't tell you who was drinking THAT!) and potent caipirinhas.
The music - funky grooves that made me feel like I was floating. And, Mr. Wolf has mad skills in getting primo positioning -- we were close enough to touch the band (and did several times when they shook my hand).
The serendipitous limo that came along as I started to doubt my abilities in cab-hailing - hell, yeah. Riding in luxury really is the new black (not text message flirting as SOME people thought!). Although, I have to admit, perhaps the correct response to Mike Wolf's question of "what should I do with this limo after we drop you off?" shouldn't have been "pick up hookers!" The limo drivers eyebrows were, indeed, raised.
And, Mike, Anila and Gerry, let's do it again really soon.
Thursday, May 13, 2004
A quick note from Daniella
I posted pictures of my cute, cute pussycats a few posts ago. I have now gotten about 50 hits from people googling for "pictures of pussy." If that is what you are looking for, you're in the wrong place. Feel free to stay a while and read along with the rest of the crew, but this is not a p@rn site. Thanks for visiting!
I posted pictures of my cute, cute pussycats a few posts ago. I have now gotten about 50 hits from people googling for "pictures of pussy." If that is what you are looking for, you're in the wrong place. Feel free to stay a while and read along with the rest of the crew, but this is not a p@rn site. Thanks for visiting!
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Do Watchya Wanna
Tomorrow night, John, my friend Anila, her husband and I will be having dinner with the inimitable Mike Wolf at what he assures me is the fantastic Plantain Restaurant. After dinner, we will be going to see my hometown boys, The Dirty Dozen Brass Band funk it up at Joe's Pub. Tickets are not yet sold out (as I type), so if you want to join us... get thee to some of these links and try to get yourself a ticket. You won't be able to sit with us (because Mike Wolf ROCKS and got us a table right up front), but we'll certainly be willing to drink with you before and after.
This promises to be an amazing show, by one of my all-time favorite bands to see live. Trust me, their albums, while great, do not do this band justice. Hopefully, we'll see you there!
Tomorrow night, John, my friend Anila, her husband and I will be having dinner with the inimitable Mike Wolf at what he assures me is the fantastic Plantain Restaurant. After dinner, we will be going to see my hometown boys, The Dirty Dozen Brass Band funk it up at Joe's Pub. Tickets are not yet sold out (as I type), so if you want to join us... get thee to some of these links and try to get yourself a ticket. You won't be able to sit with us (because Mike Wolf ROCKS and got us a table right up front), but we'll certainly be willing to drink with you before and after.
This promises to be an amazing show, by one of my all-time favorite bands to see live. Trust me, their albums, while great, do not do this band justice. Hopefully, we'll see you there!
Grand Isle, Louisiana
When John and I lived in New Orleans, we were constantly surprised by the diversity of experiences that were to be had within an hour to two hour drive from the city. We took frequent day trips on the weekends. Often these trips were culinary in nature. Sometimes, though, they were just on-the-spur-of-the-moment, let's-get-out-of-the-city trips. One beautiful Saturday in March last year, John and I got in the car and drove with no definite destination in mind. We ended up on Grand Isle--about 90 miles and hundred light years away from New Orleans.
Grand Isle's website tells a little bit about the little barrier island's history:
The community consists of both Grand Isle and Cheniere Caminada and is located in Jefferson Parish at the southern tip of La. Hwy. 1. Located on the Gulf of Mexico, the primary businesses for island residents are tourism, the seafood industry, and oilfield related professions. Originally inhabited in the early 1700's, Grand Isle is a relatively small community with a population of approximately 1,500 people. However, during the summer when vacationers begin flocking to the island, it is occupied by more than 12,000 tourists taking part in activities such as the Grand Isle International Tarpon Rodeo and Fourth of July festivities.
The day was windy and a bit overcast, but John had brought his camera and we took a bunch of pictures. I'll let them speak about the place:
The view at the side of Hwy 1
Birds by the side of the road
Crumbling graves in Grand Isle:
For those of you who do not know, we bury our dead above ground in New Orleans and the surrounding areas because we are below sea level. Our cemeteries are referred to as "Cities of the Dead".
When John and I lived in New Orleans, we were constantly surprised by the diversity of experiences that were to be had within an hour to two hour drive from the city. We took frequent day trips on the weekends. Often these trips were culinary in nature. Sometimes, though, they were just on-the-spur-of-the-moment, let's-get-out-of-the-city trips. One beautiful Saturday in March last year, John and I got in the car and drove with no definite destination in mind. We ended up on Grand Isle--about 90 miles and hundred light years away from New Orleans.
Grand Isle's website tells a little bit about the little barrier island's history:
The community consists of both Grand Isle and Cheniere Caminada and is located in Jefferson Parish at the southern tip of La. Hwy. 1. Located on the Gulf of Mexico, the primary businesses for island residents are tourism, the seafood industry, and oilfield related professions. Originally inhabited in the early 1700's, Grand Isle is a relatively small community with a population of approximately 1,500 people. However, during the summer when vacationers begin flocking to the island, it is occupied by more than 12,000 tourists taking part in activities such as the Grand Isle International Tarpon Rodeo and Fourth of July festivities.
The day was windy and a bit overcast, but John had brought his camera and we took a bunch of pictures. I'll let them speak about the place:
The view at the side of Hwy 1
Birds by the side of the road
Crumbling graves in Grand Isle:
For those of you who do not know, we bury our dead above ground in New Orleans and the surrounding areas because we are below sea level. Our cemeteries are referred to as "Cities of the Dead".
Pussy Cat Love
I have a lot of weighty issues to blog about, but I just can't help lovin' those cats o' mine. Here is a photo essay of utter cat cuteness. Don't like it? Come back later today, I'll have other stuff posted too.
Cali, also known as The Small Evil Cat
More Cali cuteness
Cali's brother Frank, showing off his Fu Manchu
Both of them looking outside for freedom
Frank's first snow storm. He's thinking, "what the f@#k is that white stuff?"
Frank and I
The view from my kitchen window (in winter), where my babies watch the world go by.
Ok, I better stop now or the only people who'll read my blog will be shut-ins with cat fixations. But they are unbearably adorable, aren't they?
I have a lot of weighty issues to blog about, but I just can't help lovin' those cats o' mine. Here is a photo essay of utter cat cuteness. Don't like it? Come back later today, I'll have other stuff posted too.
Cali, also known as The Small Evil Cat
More Cali cuteness
Cali's brother Frank, showing off his Fu Manchu
Both of them looking outside for freedom
Frank's first snow storm. He's thinking, "what the f@#k is that white stuff?"
Frank and I
The view from my kitchen window (in winter), where my babies watch the world go by.
Ok, I better stop now or the only people who'll read my blog will be shut-ins with cat fixations. But they are unbearably adorable, aren't they?
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Because...
Because my previous post came off as a bit on the... ahem... bitter side, I will give you a picture of a cute, fuzzy pussy cat to make you fell better... I introduce you to:
My Baby
Sleeping Cali.jpg
Because my previous post came off as a bit on the... ahem... bitter side, I will give you a picture of a cute, fuzzy pussy cat to make you fell better... I introduce you to:
My Baby
Sleeping Cali.jpg
It's raining bodies--I need my Reorg Boots
Big shake up at the office. My department head was unceremoniously fired yesterday at 4 PM. They made her pack up her things and leave right then. It's office politics at its ugliest.
I've been in this division of my company since August and I have been through four reorgs. This one is the closest to my actual functional group.
We'll see how it pans out, but if you know of anyone who needs a brilliant person with a financial service marketing background in the NYC area, feel free to pass my name along.
Big shake up at the office. My department head was unceremoniously fired yesterday at 4 PM. They made her pack up her things and leave right then. It's office politics at its ugliest.
I've been in this division of my company since August and I have been through four reorgs. This one is the closest to my actual functional group.
We'll see how it pans out, but if you know of anyone who needs a brilliant person with a financial service marketing background in the NYC area, feel free to pass my name along.
Saturday, May 08, 2004
Can't. Hardly. Wait.
Guess who's been up since 5 AM? Guess who has worked and re-worked the game plan? Guess who is so excited?
So. Damn. Excited.
I'm gonna go kick me some balls. Wish me luck in the tournament (the first one I've played in since 1990!!!!).
Guess who's been up since 5 AM? Guess who has worked and re-worked the game plan? Guess who is so excited?
So. Damn. Excited.
I'm gonna go kick me some balls. Wish me luck in the tournament (the first one I've played in since 1990!!!!).
Friday, May 07, 2004
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Friends? Screw that!
Yeah, I watched it. Do I care or wish to comment on it? Eh, who gives a shit?
You know what's really important?
My soccer tournament on Saturday. Oh, hell yeah. Three half hour sets, 6 on 6. Winner plays winner. Elimination until only one team is standing, most likely literally. 15 teams of women, over 30, playing their hearts out. Balls will be flying--in more ways than one. There will be sweat. There will be pain. There will be pulled muscles, bruises and shin splints. We'll grunt, we'll cry, we'll hurt.
It will all be worth it. Every last goddamn bruise. They're badges of honor, really. The pain is my entrance fee. I'll huff and I'll puff... and my girls... fuck that, my WOMEN... will win this thing. Then we'll scream and we'll yell and we'll ice down our aching muscles and joints. Then we'll take our husbands and our boyfriends and go to the after party.
'Cause we'll have accomplished SOMETHING. What are YOU doing Saturday?
P.S. come by the Millburn Sports Academy (56 E. Willow St, Millburn, NJ) Saturday, 11:00 - 6:00 PM and cheer us on. We'll be the ones in the cute baby blue jerseys--playing to win.
Soccer Team
Yeah, I watched it. Do I care or wish to comment on it? Eh, who gives a shit?
You know what's really important?
My soccer tournament on Saturday. Oh, hell yeah. Three half hour sets, 6 on 6. Winner plays winner. Elimination until only one team is standing, most likely literally. 15 teams of women, over 30, playing their hearts out. Balls will be flying--in more ways than one. There will be sweat. There will be pain. There will be pulled muscles, bruises and shin splints. We'll grunt, we'll cry, we'll hurt.
It will all be worth it. Every last goddamn bruise. They're badges of honor, really. The pain is my entrance fee. I'll huff and I'll puff... and my girls... fuck that, my WOMEN... will win this thing. Then we'll scream and we'll yell and we'll ice down our aching muscles and joints. Then we'll take our husbands and our boyfriends and go to the after party.
'Cause we'll have accomplished SOMETHING. What are YOU doing Saturday?
P.S. come by the Millburn Sports Academy (56 E. Willow St, Millburn, NJ) Saturday, 11:00 - 6:00 PM and cheer us on. We'll be the ones in the cute baby blue jerseys--playing to win.
Soccer Team
LA Photo Frenzy
A couple of months ago, I got to walk the red carpet at the premier of Disney's Home on the Range.
What, you don't remember? Here let me refresh your memory.
Any way, back then I was still on free blogspot and couldn't post the pictures of our trip.
Guess what? Now I can.
me and Jim Belushi
John and Randy Quaid
me and Cuba Gooding
me, John's co-worker Chad and Roseanne
me and Kevin Smith
sunset on the Pacific Ocean
This picture posting thing is addictive.
A couple of months ago, I got to walk the red carpet at the premier of Disney's Home on the Range.
What, you don't remember? Here let me refresh your memory.
Any way, back then I was still on free blogspot and couldn't post the pictures of our trip.
Guess what? Now I can.
me and Jim Belushi
John and Randy Quaid
me and Cuba Gooding
me, John's co-worker Chad and Roseanne
me and Kevin Smith
sunset on the Pacific Ocean
This picture posting thing is addictive.
An Illuminating Evening
John and I had the pleasure of having the Illuminated Donkey over for dinner last night. We had a great deal of fun telling stories about misspent days and poorly behaved younger siblings (I, unfortunately, had to sit that particular discussion out as I am, alas, an only child).
While the rest of the blogging community searches for Il-Donk, who hasn't posted in too many days, he was at my house, eating a lot of cheese and drinking a lot of wine.
Thanks, Ken, for a fun evening. We must do it again soon!
Kiss kiss.
P.S. I love a man who puts his social engagements in his calendar in PEN.
John and I had the pleasure of having the Illuminated Donkey over for dinner last night. We had a great deal of fun telling stories about misspent days and poorly behaved younger siblings (I, unfortunately, had to sit that particular discussion out as I am, alas, an only child).
While the rest of the blogging community searches for Il-Donk, who hasn't posted in too many days, he was at my house, eating a lot of cheese and drinking a lot of wine.
Thanks, Ken, for a fun evening. We must do it again soon!
Kiss kiss.
P.S. I love a man who puts his social engagements in his calendar in PEN.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Email Conundrum
I have two email addresses. One at work--ostensibly for work. And one on yahoo for personal stuff. Well, my employer, in its omnipotence, blocks access to personal email at work, so I end up occasionally using my work email for non-work related correspondence. For example, all my communications with my professors are via my work email because I take classes in the evenings. If the professor sends out an email to tell us class is cancelled that night or that you have to read such and such article for that night's lecture (which does happen), and it comes to my yahoo account, well--I will be sitting in class by my lonesome wondering where the hell everyone is, or just look unprepared for lecture and discussion. And, sometimes, I send emails to John regarding personal matters (of life or death, only, I swear!) because he's not always at his desk when I call him and he never, ever checks his voicemail. But I never forward jokes or send emails to my friends because that would be wrong and against my employer's email policy. That's right. It would be wrong. So. I. Never. Do. It. Ever. Got it?
Additionally, my yahoo email is one of the free ones that only offers 15 mb of storage space. So, you email me a picture of you and your new boyfriend (eww, what were you thinking wearing THAT shirt??), my email inbox is now full. So, that email telling me how to enlarge my penis is going to bounce back to the sender (darn!). Plus, I get six tons of spam a day. Really, I DO want to help Mr. Awahabenbe bring his $20 million dollars over from Nigeria, but I'm sick of getting ten emails a day from him!
So, because I have an account with blogger, they offered me a chance to be one of the beta testers of the new Google email system, gmail. Wow, 1000 mb of storage space for free. I don't ever have to delete that email I got from you with that "all women are special, please forward this email to 100 special women you know." I can keep it forever! Yay!
What's the problem, you ask? Well, a lot of people have been up in arms about how Google will be scanning your emails (both incoming and outgoing) to harvest "key words" and then putting targeted banner ads on your emails. Well, big, f875ing deal. They already do this on Blogspot blogs, and they're pretty innocuous. Plus, when I have something private or personal to say -- I call my friends. Remember that quaint old gadget, the telephone? So, really most of my emails fall into two categories -- "hey, whatchya doing, wanna do this that or the other next weekend?" and "ooh, this is funny." I have nothing to hide from Google's search bots. So, my problem? We have an old version of OS on our ibook laptop (the first person who tells me to upgrade gets a raspberry--I'm not familiar enough with Macs to upgrade this thing by myself and I will have gray hair if I wait for John to get around to doing it). Gmail doesn't work on it. So, I can only access it at work and who knows how much longer until my employer, in its omnipotence and magnificence (I love my job! My employer RAWKS!), notices gmail and gives me the "Access Denied" screen?
Anyway, I now have three emails, and I don't know what to do. Any ideas?
I have two email addresses. One at work--ostensibly for work. And one on yahoo for personal stuff. Well, my employer, in its omnipotence, blocks access to personal email at work, so I end up occasionally using my work email for non-work related correspondence. For example, all my communications with my professors are via my work email because I take classes in the evenings. If the professor sends out an email to tell us class is cancelled that night or that you have to read such and such article for that night's lecture (which does happen), and it comes to my yahoo account, well--I will be sitting in class by my lonesome wondering where the hell everyone is, or just look unprepared for lecture and discussion. And, sometimes, I send emails to John regarding personal matters (of life or death, only, I swear!) because he's not always at his desk when I call him and he never, ever checks his voicemail. But I never forward jokes or send emails to my friends because that would be wrong and against my employer's email policy. That's right. It would be wrong. So. I. Never. Do. It. Ever. Got it?
Additionally, my yahoo email is one of the free ones that only offers 15 mb of storage space. So, you email me a picture of you and your new boyfriend (eww, what were you thinking wearing THAT shirt??), my email inbox is now full. So, that email telling me how to enlarge my penis is going to bounce back to the sender (darn!). Plus, I get six tons of spam a day. Really, I DO want to help Mr. Awahabenbe bring his $20 million dollars over from Nigeria, but I'm sick of getting ten emails a day from him!
So, because I have an account with blogger, they offered me a chance to be one of the beta testers of the new Google email system, gmail. Wow, 1000 mb of storage space for free. I don't ever have to delete that email I got from you with that "all women are special, please forward this email to 100 special women you know." I can keep it forever! Yay!
What's the problem, you ask? Well, a lot of people have been up in arms about how Google will be scanning your emails (both incoming and outgoing) to harvest "key words" and then putting targeted banner ads on your emails. Well, big, f875ing deal. They already do this on Blogspot blogs, and they're pretty innocuous. Plus, when I have something private or personal to say -- I call my friends. Remember that quaint old gadget, the telephone? So, really most of my emails fall into two categories -- "hey, whatchya doing, wanna do this that or the other next weekend?" and "ooh, this is funny." I have nothing to hide from Google's search bots. So, my problem? We have an old version of OS on our ibook laptop (the first person who tells me to upgrade gets a raspberry--I'm not familiar enough with Macs to upgrade this thing by myself and I will have gray hair if I wait for John to get around to doing it). Gmail doesn't work on it. So, I can only access it at work and who knows how much longer until my employer, in its omnipotence and magnificence (I love my job! My employer RAWKS!), notices gmail and gives me the "Access Denied" screen?
Anyway, I now have three emails, and I don't know what to do. Any ideas?
On the Bush-is-a-moron Note:
I recently came across this from a web journal kept by a librarian:
I am now going to rant and rave about how GW fired the former U.S. archivist and put in some good ol' boy buddy of his. I was going to tell you how important archiving is and how much of our national treasures are at stake -- and GW is running around hiring and firing. Archivists have NO POLITICAL PURPOSE and they remain in place regardless of the political party. They are there to do one thing- archive our national treasures. They document our history. I cannot believe that Bush put in someone without qualifications and without getting recommendations from the ALA (American Library Association) or the National Archivist Association. He really is not a man who thinks. How can anyone CARE about our nation and then disregard it so much. Lest you think I'm being a liberal- REAGAN is the one who made the first good laws about how the archivists should be in place and how they should be appointed at the recommendation of the ALA. And Bush just spit in Reagan's eye.
No president in HISTORY has ever done such an irresponsible thing. I know this is so retarded to be ranting and raving when so many lives are being lost and so many problems are happening to our environment. But dammit. It makes me angry that Bush is so willy-nilly about the storage and safekeeping of our national history.
It's like setting your wedding ring on the edge of a fishing boat and hoping that it's still there at the end of your trip.
Gee, there's not much I can add to that, is there?
I recently came across this from a web journal kept by a librarian:
I am now going to rant and rave about how GW fired the former U.S. archivist and put in some good ol' boy buddy of his. I was going to tell you how important archiving is and how much of our national treasures are at stake -- and GW is running around hiring and firing. Archivists have NO POLITICAL PURPOSE and they remain in place regardless of the political party. They are there to do one thing- archive our national treasures. They document our history. I cannot believe that Bush put in someone without qualifications and without getting recommendations from the ALA (American Library Association) or the National Archivist Association. He really is not a man who thinks. How can anyone CARE about our nation and then disregard it so much. Lest you think I'm being a liberal- REAGAN is the one who made the first good laws about how the archivists should be in place and how they should be appointed at the recommendation of the ALA. And Bush just spit in Reagan's eye.
No president in HISTORY has ever done such an irresponsible thing. I know this is so retarded to be ranting and raving when so many lives are being lost and so many problems are happening to our environment. But dammit. It makes me angry that Bush is so willy-nilly about the storage and safekeeping of our national history.
It's like setting your wedding ring on the edge of a fishing boat and hoping that it's still there at the end of your trip.
Gee, there's not much I can add to that, is there?
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
A Moment to Myself
There's a swirl of conversation around me. I hear snippets of it...
"...the committee hasn't met to make that decision yet..."
"...I can't make that meeting, please call my office to reschedule..."
"...there are three different asset classes in that portfolio, Jim..."
Who's Jim, I wonder. But then I just return to what I'm doing. Letting the slow, sensuous sounds of the Tree's Lounge soundtrack CD surround me. Take me away from this place for a few minutes. Right now, "The Color of your Eyes" is playing. It's a quiet, sad song.
My three o'clock meeting was cancelled. I have a bunch of phone calls to make, but they will have to wait until my voice comes back. No one can hear me on the phone anyway.
For now, I take a minute to listen to a sad song. A moment to myself.
Hell, for all I know, I may be typing away in a vacuum. No one has found the new site of the blog yet.
Quiet. In the midst of chaos.
There's a swirl of conversation around me. I hear snippets of it...
"...the committee hasn't met to make that decision yet..."
"...I can't make that meeting, please call my office to reschedule..."
"...there are three different asset classes in that portfolio, Jim..."
Who's Jim, I wonder. But then I just return to what I'm doing. Letting the slow, sensuous sounds of the Tree's Lounge soundtrack CD surround me. Take me away from this place for a few minutes. Right now, "The Color of your Eyes" is playing. It's a quiet, sad song.
My three o'clock meeting was cancelled. I have a bunch of phone calls to make, but they will have to wait until my voice comes back. No one can hear me on the phone anyway.
For now, I take a minute to listen to a sad song. A moment to myself.
Hell, for all I know, I may be typing away in a vacuum. No one has found the new site of the blog yet.
Quiet. In the midst of chaos.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Pictures, LOTS of Pictures
Four full photo albums of pictures of my trip are available for printing, copying, etc to those of you who I know in real life. If you would like to view the pictures, send me an email and I will provide you with the link and the password.
Four full photo albums of pictures of my trip are available for printing, copying, etc to those of you who I know in real life. If you would like to view the pictures, send me an email and I will provide you with the link and the password.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
A Write Up in Many Parts -- Now with Pictures!
I know you have all been waiting nearly a week for me to tell you about my amazing, fabulous, unforgettable trip to New Orleans. Well, wait no more.
Because I have so much to say, and so many pictures to illustrate it with, I will simply group it by days.
Wednesday, April 21st
We had the earliest possible flight out of Newark. 5:50 AM. Know what I learned? Even though it may sound like a good idea to leave really early, so that you can arrive at your destination really early--DON'T DO IT. You will regret it. I got home from class at 9 PM on Tuesday night. By the time we were packed and had everything squared away for our trip, it was well after midnight. You know what time our alarm went off so that we could arrive at the airport on time for a 5:50 AM flight? Yeah, 2:45 AM. Um, Wednesday was kind of a blur except for going to True Brew Coffeehouse to see Julia LaShae play. She's one half of the act who is playing at our wedding and she was lovely and luminous and has a great voice.
Thursday, April 22nd
Thursday daytime was filled up mainly by wedding planning things, or "that wedding crap," as John so succinctly put it. I won't bore you with the details. It's bad enough that I have to bore myself with it.
sidebar: when John and I first got engaged, I was really excited about planning my wedding. Now, over a year down the line, with five and half months to go, I am so sick of dealing with it, I want to slit my wrists. Ok, rant over.
Then I bought a bunch of clothes. Literally, a bunch. I have lost enough weight that last spring's stuff hangs off of me. Yeah.
Thursday evening was spent in the company of our good friend, Buddy Bell, who is all right, even though he is a lawyer and...gasp!... a republican.
That's Buddy and I at a new bar near his house. Note, it has "approved clean restrooms."
Friday, April 23rd
Jazz Fest! Jazz Fest!
We'll start with the pre-Fest pictures:
this shirt got John a lot of attention. We got it as an engagement gift from our friend Carey Kaufman, but apparently, Waffle House doesn't sell these and they are a big hit with the ironic t-shirt wearing set.
yeah, that's me. I know, I know. 15 more pounds to get back to former hotness level. It'll be off by the wedding.
The Food
Cochon de lait po-boy
Soft Shell Crab po-boy
Quail, pheasant and andouille gumbo
Roman Candy!!
Louisiana Blackberry Sorbet
There was also Crawfish Bread (we were too hungry to take pictures of it) and Crawfish Sack (can't find the picture, must have forgotten to download it). All of it was good.
At the Fest
The weather was perfect and yeah, we're in love. So sue us.
Post-Fest
After the Fest, we went to see my best friend, her hubby and their three beautiful children. I have some great pictures of the kids, but i'm not going to post them until I can speak with Alison (their mom) to make sure it's ok.
April 23rd was exactly a year after John asked me to marry him, so we headed off to Clancy's (the restaurant where we got engaged) for a romantic dinner. Let's just say dinner was fantastic and we will be back every April 23rd for the rest of our lives.
Saturday, April 24th
Saturday morning was a whirl of activity to prepare for our very first "official" wedding related event -- our engagement party, hosted by my parent's best friends, the Gordons.
I had hair, nails and a dress fitting. John had... to iron his shirt. Lucky bastard!
We also took some time with our extremely talented photographer, Susan Downing (who is a close friend of my parents) to get our engagement announcement photos taken. She made us look amazing.
The party was incredible. There were about 35 guests in the Gordon's garden and patio. Everything was lit beautifully with candles and there were flowers everywhere. The food was heavenly and the drinks flowed freely. I really think everyone had a great time. I know John and I did. It was weird being "the honorees", though. At one point, I ended up talking to John. My mom caught my eye and made the international sign for "go mingle" with her hand. So, it was off I went.
Here are some photos:
John and I, pre-party
At the party
Daddy, mom and me
the "Honorees"
My best friend Alison's husband, Skip. Yeah, we'll keep him!
Our hostess with the Mostess, Melissa and my mom. Thanks to the Gordons for a party without parallel. They are amazing hosts and amazing people.
After the party broke up, John and I went to Rosy's Jazz Hall to see Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen. Rosy's happens to be our friend, Russ's place and where we are planning to hold our rehearsal dinner. It's a great space.
Guess who else showed up to sit in with Jon Cleary?
Yup, that's Bonnie Raitt.
havin' a ball at the show
Sunday, April 25th
Sunday was my grandmother's birthday (39th, har, har), so we went to brunch with the family in a torrential downpour. It was still great to be around my family, regardless of the weather.
Afterwards, John and I were physically and emotionally exhausted. We had been going pretty much non-stop since Wednesday morning. We went back to my parent's house to get some much needed rest.
Rest? Pshaw. There'll be time to rest when we're dead! The storm clouds parted, albeit temporarily, and we headed back off to Jazz Fest. No pictures from that day, unfortunately.
After Jazz Fest, my cool chicas, Susan and Catherine, threw together a three course dinner for ten (10!) people to restart our old Soprano's club. When John and I lived in New Orleans, our house was the "hangout" house. So many of my friends have commented that since we moved, no one really does the weekly dinners anymore. We used to a potluck dinner for 10 - 12 every Sunday night at our house to watch the Sopranos and just to generally hang out together. It was the way our whole group stayed together. So, Catherine volunteered at 3 PM and had the party and dinner whipped up by 7 PM. Mad props to Catherine!
here are some photos:
Catherine's new puppy, Cooper
Catherine and Susan -- the Kitchen Wenches
Soon-to-be-doctor Glenda, Al and Banannie -- da girls
Dessert of chocolate esspresso, turtle-misu and pear champagne ice cream, courtesy of Annie banannie
There are lots more pictures of that night. If you were there and want pictures, you know how to reach me.
Monday, April 26th
By Monday, I was sick. S-I-C-K. I was also miserably studying for my Calculus exam which the next day. I took a break to have lunch with the krewe at Port o'Call before finishing studying, packing, noticing that I had a fever of 102 and going to bed.
You already know the rest. I have about 90 pictures from the trip and I will be puting a lot of them up at a later date. If you were at the engagement party, odds are that I have a great picture of you. Send me an email or call me and I'll email it to you.
I hope you enjoyed my recap as much as i enjoyed my trip. Not likely, though. I just have to say, I have the greatest family, the most amazing, wonderful friends, a wonderful and supportive man who makes me happy and the best city in the world which will always be home, even if I don't live there anymore.
Thanks to everyone for a trip I will never forget.
I leave you with:
Now, how could you love anyone else?
I know you have all been waiting nearly a week for me to tell you about my amazing, fabulous, unforgettable trip to New Orleans. Well, wait no more.
Because I have so much to say, and so many pictures to illustrate it with, I will simply group it by days.
Wednesday, April 21st
We had the earliest possible flight out of Newark. 5:50 AM. Know what I learned? Even though it may sound like a good idea to leave really early, so that you can arrive at your destination really early--DON'T DO IT. You will regret it. I got home from class at 9 PM on Tuesday night. By the time we were packed and had everything squared away for our trip, it was well after midnight. You know what time our alarm went off so that we could arrive at the airport on time for a 5:50 AM flight? Yeah, 2:45 AM. Um, Wednesday was kind of a blur except for going to True Brew Coffeehouse to see Julia LaShae play. She's one half of the act who is playing at our wedding and she was lovely and luminous and has a great voice.
Thursday, April 22nd
Thursday daytime was filled up mainly by wedding planning things, or "that wedding crap," as John so succinctly put it. I won't bore you with the details. It's bad enough that I have to bore myself with it.
sidebar: when John and I first got engaged, I was really excited about planning my wedding. Now, over a year down the line, with five and half months to go, I am so sick of dealing with it, I want to slit my wrists. Ok, rant over.
Then I bought a bunch of clothes. Literally, a bunch. I have lost enough weight that last spring's stuff hangs off of me. Yeah.
Thursday evening was spent in the company of our good friend, Buddy Bell, who is all right, even though he is a lawyer and...gasp!... a republican.
That's Buddy and I at a new bar near his house. Note, it has "approved clean restrooms."
Friday, April 23rd
Jazz Fest! Jazz Fest!
We'll start with the pre-Fest pictures:
this shirt got John a lot of attention. We got it as an engagement gift from our friend Carey Kaufman, but apparently, Waffle House doesn't sell these and they are a big hit with the ironic t-shirt wearing set.
yeah, that's me. I know, I know. 15 more pounds to get back to former hotness level. It'll be off by the wedding.
The Food
Cochon de lait po-boy
Soft Shell Crab po-boy
Quail, pheasant and andouille gumbo
Roman Candy!!
Louisiana Blackberry Sorbet
There was also Crawfish Bread (we were too hungry to take pictures of it) and Crawfish Sack (can't find the picture, must have forgotten to download it). All of it was good.
At the Fest
The weather was perfect and yeah, we're in love. So sue us.
Post-Fest
After the Fest, we went to see my best friend, her hubby and their three beautiful children. I have some great pictures of the kids, but i'm not going to post them until I can speak with Alison (their mom) to make sure it's ok.
April 23rd was exactly a year after John asked me to marry him, so we headed off to Clancy's (the restaurant where we got engaged) for a romantic dinner. Let's just say dinner was fantastic and we will be back every April 23rd for the rest of our lives.
Saturday, April 24th
Saturday morning was a whirl of activity to prepare for our very first "official" wedding related event -- our engagement party, hosted by my parent's best friends, the Gordons.
I had hair, nails and a dress fitting. John had... to iron his shirt. Lucky bastard!
We also took some time with our extremely talented photographer, Susan Downing (who is a close friend of my parents) to get our engagement announcement photos taken. She made us look amazing.
The party was incredible. There were about 35 guests in the Gordon's garden and patio. Everything was lit beautifully with candles and there were flowers everywhere. The food was heavenly and the drinks flowed freely. I really think everyone had a great time. I know John and I did. It was weird being "the honorees", though. At one point, I ended up talking to John. My mom caught my eye and made the international sign for "go mingle" with her hand. So, it was off I went.
Here are some photos:
John and I, pre-party
At the party
Daddy, mom and me
the "Honorees"
My best friend Alison's husband, Skip. Yeah, we'll keep him!
Our hostess with the Mostess, Melissa and my mom. Thanks to the Gordons for a party without parallel. They are amazing hosts and amazing people.
After the party broke up, John and I went to Rosy's Jazz Hall to see Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen. Rosy's happens to be our friend, Russ's place and where we are planning to hold our rehearsal dinner. It's a great space.
Guess who else showed up to sit in with Jon Cleary?
Yup, that's Bonnie Raitt.
havin' a ball at the show
Sunday, April 25th
Sunday was my grandmother's birthday (39th, har, har), so we went to brunch with the family in a torrential downpour. It was still great to be around my family, regardless of the weather.
Afterwards, John and I were physically and emotionally exhausted. We had been going pretty much non-stop since Wednesday morning. We went back to my parent's house to get some much needed rest.
Rest? Pshaw. There'll be time to rest when we're dead! The storm clouds parted, albeit temporarily, and we headed back off to Jazz Fest. No pictures from that day, unfortunately.
After Jazz Fest, my cool chicas, Susan and Catherine, threw together a three course dinner for ten (10!) people to restart our old Soprano's club. When John and I lived in New Orleans, our house was the "hangout" house. So many of my friends have commented that since we moved, no one really does the weekly dinners anymore. We used to a potluck dinner for 10 - 12 every Sunday night at our house to watch the Sopranos and just to generally hang out together. It was the way our whole group stayed together. So, Catherine volunteered at 3 PM and had the party and dinner whipped up by 7 PM. Mad props to Catherine!
here are some photos:
Catherine's new puppy, Cooper
Catherine and Susan -- the Kitchen Wenches
Soon-to-be-doctor Glenda, Al and Banannie -- da girls
Dessert of chocolate esspresso, turtle-misu and pear champagne ice cream, courtesy of Annie banannie
There are lots more pictures of that night. If you were there and want pictures, you know how to reach me.
Monday, April 26th
By Monday, I was sick. S-I-C-K. I was also miserably studying for my Calculus exam which the next day. I took a break to have lunch with the krewe at Port o'Call before finishing studying, packing, noticing that I had a fever of 102 and going to bed.
You already know the rest. I have about 90 pictures from the trip and I will be puting a lot of them up at a later date. If you were at the engagement party, odds are that I have a great picture of you. Send me an email or call me and I'll email it to you.
I hope you enjoyed my recap as much as i enjoyed my trip. Not likely, though. I just have to say, I have the greatest family, the most amazing, wonderful friends, a wonderful and supportive man who makes me happy and the best city in the world which will always be home, even if I don't live there anymore.
Thanks to everyone for a trip I will never forget.
I leave you with:
Now, how could you love anyone else?
We have MOVED
Daniella's Misadventures can now be found at DaniellasMisadventures.com. We are excited about the move and hope you will be too.
Please update your links.
Daniella's Misadventures can now be found at DaniellasMisadventures.com. We are excited about the move and hope you will be too.
Please update your links.
