Bits and Pieces

1. Two job interviews tomorrow (2 different jobs). Both are jobs I'm qualified for and that I'd love to have, so please send happy, non-tongue-tied-interview-answer thoughts my way at 10:30am EST and 4pm EST. Thankyouverymuch.

2. Anyone have any hints for straightening out a strand of pearls? I want to wear them for the wedding I'm in next month, but they look like they've been stuffed in a box (they have). I'm hanging them on a hook right now, hoping that gravity can help, but seeing as pearls aren't all that heavy, the hanging doesn't seem to be making much of a difference.

3. I'm reading again! Finished Dan Brown's Deception Point a few weeks ago, and am now reading Eats, Shoots and Leaves and Freakonomics.  Any and all recommendations welcome.

A Summer Story

When I was eleven, I went to summer camp for the second summer. There was a girl there named Amy who was a few years older and had a kind of junior counselor role at camp. She had a beautiful smile and the kind of personality that lit up a room. She was incredibly talented musically and would often sing or play piano with a small group of younger girls all gathered around, singing with her.

On one such day we all gathered around her at the piano to sing. We happily belted out song after song until it was time to leave. As we all headed to lunch, Amy pulled  me aside. I was nervous about being singled out and was concerned I had done something wrong.  

"I just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful voice," she said to me, "so keep singing." I remember just staring up at her, my idol, the young woman I wanted so much to be like someday, and being completely at a loss for words. I had always liked to sing - it had always been a part of my life - but this person was telling me that I was good at it and was encouraging me to make sure to nurture that talent. 

A feeling washed over me - a feeling I had never felt before. I was so honored and proud to hear those words of encouragement from her, and yet also somewhat overwhelmed. At a time when I was starting to feel the awkward insecurities of my pre-teen years, those words meant so much to me, and I found myself getting choked up from the emotion of it all.

I walked back towards my friends with tears streaming down my cheeks. They saw my tears and asked with concern why I was crying, and I shrugged because I didn't know. They asked if I was sad, and I found myself laughing through my tears and telling them that I was pretty sure I was crying because I was happy. 

I never saw Amy again after that summer. And I never became a professional singer. But I did carry with me the memory of how significant it was to be reminded of talents and strengths that I didn't even know existed.

This morning I received an email appreciating me for my honesty and caring and willingness to speak and act openly when many others do not. These are traits that are so a part of me that, like singing, I forget sometimes that they are strengths. The email spoke of the beauty that comes from making oneself vulnerable and the rewards that can come from being open to possibility, and as I read it I found myself full of that same mysterious feeling I felt 19 summers ago, with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart. Full of gratitude for all that is good in this world, and for the people who help me remember to appreciate it all, I share this with you now:

Still Waiting for that Bus...

No luck on the job front, so the hunt continues... This weekend will be spent researching and applying for jobs, as well as studying for my licensing exam. 

Not much else to report, so I'll leave you all with a question:

At what point in a relationship with a new person should one share one's blog? Assume that as the relationship develops, it is a close and trusting one. Follow-up question: Is the answer different if it a romantic relationship vs. a platonic one? 

The "Big Dig" Nears Completion

Though I could pretend that the reason I haven't been updating this blog is because I've been so focused on my "Big Dig" project, the real reason is that I've been traveling and working so much that I'm rarely in front of my computer enough to check email, much less write about my adventures.

A few quick updates:

1. No word on the job yet, but they have told me they're hoping to make a decision early this coming week. I have also applied to a few other jobs, so I'm not just waiting around for this one (but still, keep your fingers crossed).

2. After 3 looooong weeks, C is back in my life. I had no idea how much our Thursdays together meant to me until he was gone on vacation. I have been with this kiddo every week for nearly a year now, and we were both absolutely giddy to see each other on Thursday after so much time apart. I didn't stop smiling all day. 

3. The "Big Dig" is nearing completion, after multiple phases of progress:

Phase I (June 2008): Fibby sorts through all of her clothing and shoes, putting some aside to donate and saving others.

Phase II (7/11-7/12): Bed and air conditioner are moved with the help of LTB members. All other furniture moved by Fibby.

Phase III (7/17-7/21): Fibby goes on vacation to Maine. Just before going on vacation, she realizes that her new roommate (the one who is moving into Fibby's old room) is arriving on the 22nd).

Phase IV (7/21): Fibby arrives back in Boston at 1pm and throws all items from the floor of her old room to the floor of her new room. Fibby and Roommate (not the new one) spend the next 7 hours steam cleaning carpets in 3 rooms and 2 staircases. One of these rooms is Fibby's study, which means that the explosion of books, papers, and junk that has been accumulating for the past 6-12 months must be picked up off the floor. All of the above-mentioned items are re-located to the dining room floor until the rug in the study dries.

Phase V (7/26): Fibby follows her self-imposed rule and sorts through every box and bag and envelope on her floor, rather than just shoving it all under the bed. This takes all day. And night. Much trash and recycling is accumulated. Dusting takes place.

Phase VI (7/27): Fibby moves the "Big Dig" to the study, where another day is spent sorting, storing, and throwing away. Clutter is transformed into order with the help of storage bins and tupperware containers. Much trash and recycling is accumulated. Serious dusting takes place. Sneezing takes place.

No photos yet, because I am waiting until I put things on the walls, but let me tell you that this is the best gift to myself I think I've ever had. 

     Total number of trash bags full of donated clothes & shoes: 3

     Total number of trash bags filled: 4.5

     Total number of trash cans filled: 2

     Total number of boxes filled with paper to be recycled: 3

This post is dedicated to two of my former SF roommates, whose ability to sort and purge inspired me throughout this adventure.

Weekend Adventures

This past weekend was the first weekend that I did not travel in well over a month (perhaps two?), and I made the most of it.

Friday night found me at the Lizard Lounge watching the Laura Thomas Band and The Grift. I managed to rally a good number of friends to go including some college friends, a grad school friend, and a former camper (actually "counselor trainee" but "camper" is a more universally understood term). Fun reunions and conversations were had all around. Also included in the Friday night festivities was the most awesome wingman job ever. Plus - because I hosted the LTB at my house on Friday evening, I got in free. Awesome.

Saturday morning found the LTB members and GT playing on the futuristic playground in my neighborhood. Entirely stress-free and entirely fun.

Saturday night I attended the Sox game with my aunt. Not only was it a great game, but we had phenomenal seats.

Not the view from our seats:

The view from our seats:

We also invented "kettlejacks" which involved kettle corn and peanuts (for eating purposes, we did remove the shells, but it made for a funnier photo with the shells on).

The game was short, and I was home by 10:30pm, which seemed to me to be a reasonable time to move lots of heavy furniture. The big, strong men of the LTB had assisted me in moving my bed and my A/C unit, but there was a dresser and many shelves to be moved as well. It wasn't until all the furniture had been moved that I remembered that my landlady's bedroom is directly below my old bedroom. Apparently she is a deep sleeper, because I didn't hear any complaints the next day.

Yesterday I continued the moving and sorting and dumping and put new bedding on my bed. I also managed to whack my knee against the corner of my bed three times before giving up and padding the corner with with bubble wrap and packing tape. I then drove all around the greater Boston area returning unwanted bedding to the stores. No photos of the new room yet, but I'll get one up soon. Bottom line is it has heat and floor space and it's nicer and more organized than any room I've ever had.

I finished off the weekend with a first date last night that was not the result of an eharmony match. And though it's a little early to tell for sure, he seems like I guy I'd like to continue to get to know - the kind of guy who wouldn't stop for red lights.

No word on the job yet, though they are checking references. Thanks to all who gave advice/input. Still not sure what I'll say if they offer me the job, but I'm trusting that I'll know what to do if/when that situation arises.

Considerations

So I have now had two job interviews for the position I blogged about last week. This job is at an organization about whose mission I am extremely passionate. It would allow me to provide support to grieving family members and would also give me the opportunity to create my own projects based on my interests. The benefits are great, and the team I would work for seems wonderful.

A drawback to this position is that all of the support that I would be providing would be over the phone. It is also a position that does not require a masters degree, and therefore as much as it would be challenging on some levels (especially if I could create my own projects), it might not be challenging enough or different enough from past jobs and experiences for me to feel like it is an upward step rather than a sideways step professionally.

I keep going over and over this in my head, and I can't tell if I'm trying to talk myself out of the position or into it. The truth is that I was really excited about this position when I saw it posted online. In fact, was the first position I had seen that got me excited since not getting the fellowship. My excitement decreased a bit after my initial phone screening interview when I was told that the position was all phone support, but I still wanted to interview. Since then, I have found an equal number of positive aspects to the job (great supervisor and coworkers, mission about which I'm passionate, interesting job, starts at the right time, good benefits) and negative (lack of other MSWs means lack of on-site social work support and potentially lack of supervision, all phone support means no face-to-face interactions, perhaps not making the most of my new degree) and am just not sure what to do if I get offered the job.

In speaking with a friend last night, she reminded me that if it doesn't feel right, then it probably isn't right and that I need to trust my gut. But my gut seems to be rather confused about how it's feeling, so what do I do? Do I take this job, knowing it's in a field I'm excited about and doing work with a population I'd like to be working with, even though the work isn't exactly the kind of work I want to be doing? Do I pass it up, and then hope that there's a better fit in the future, knowing that there's a good chance that I might end up working further outside my field of interest due to lack of job opportunities doing what I want to do? Is there even a

Bargaining Power

I'm not very good at bargaining. In fact, I'd say for the most part I avoid it when possible. I never try to bargain while shopping, and have recently told a friend that he's going to have to buy my next car for me because he's so good at it, and I'm just not. Historically, I have never tried all that hard to negotiate a higher salary. In some situations, it had to do with not feeling confident enough in my skills to feel I was worth more, and in some situations, it had to do with not wanting to hear someone say "no" and feel they were refusing my value as a human being, rather than my work value.  

Today I had my first job interview since the slew of fellowship interviews I had in April/May. I found the job posting online last week and it was the first posting I had seen since starting to look that I actually got excited about. So I updated my resume and cover letter (hadn't written a cover letter since 2002!) and sent it in.

A week later, I found myself squeezing in an interview between two babysitting gigs (thank goodness the woman's schedule was relatively open). As the last time I had applied for a job (a "real" job, anyway) was in 2002, I realized just before walking in that this is the first interview I've had where I've been totally confident in my skills to do the job. It made me much more confident and willing to say things that I would not have said 6 years ago.

For example, after the woman told me more about the job (including the fact that none of the other employees with the same position have masters degrees), she looked at my salary requirements. 

"Oh," she said, "I see you've put down X for a salary requirement. Did Sue tell you that the salary is actually a bit lower than that?"

"Yes," said I, "I am wondering, though, if the salary that you are offering is factoring in my MSW?"

So of course the salary wasn't factoring in my degree, and the woman tried to point out that an MSW was not a requirement for this position. She then tried to argue that I didn't have any experience as an MSW, and I countered that my two years of internships were absolutely MSW experience. 

I didn't make a big stink about the salary or my experience, but I did stand up for myself in a matter-of-fact, I-know-what-I'm-worth kind of way (well, as much as a social worker can do that - of course we're (almost) all worth way more than we'll ever get paid).

I left feeling good about the interview, and confident in my professional skills and abilities in a way I haven't felt in a long time. 

Graduate school tuition: $49K

Confidence in your professional knowledge, skills and practice: Priceless

Power of Love

Sorry for the short notice, but please send lots of positive, healthy thoughts to San Francisco today starting at 5pm EST, as that's when Rosie will be having surgery.

Tell Me More

Tonight, when the bar closed after spending the night celebrating a good friend's 30th birthday, we went to everyone's favorite late-night/early-morning dining establishment. 15 of us crowded around a big round table and ate as though we hadn't eaten in weeks. It was a great end to a really fun night.

When the fortune cookies were passed around, I eagerly took mine and broke it open, only to find a "fortune" whose top line had been cut off. The line that was left said:

"itself known through your words."
(Lucky Numbers: 7, 14, 17, 28, 34, 42)

Here's my question to you, dear readers: What did the first part of the fortune say???

Strength in Numbers

Rosalie was 21-months-old when she was diagnosed with medulloblastoma, a type of brain tumor. She had surgery to remove the tumor, then went through 14 months of chemo and radiation. Seven months ago, Rosie finished her treatment protocol, and she has had clear MRIs ever since. She has re-learned how to walk and talk and sing and dance, and has won over the hearts of many doctors, nurses, child life specialists, and all of her physical, occupational, and speech therapists in the proccess.

I lived in San Francisco when Rosie was diagnosed, and was volunteering at UCSF where Rosie was treated. Each week, I'd go early to volunteer and visit with Rosie and whichever parent was "on duty" that day. We'd play with Elmo and sing and giggle. Over the months that Rosie was in the hospital, I not only built a relationship with her, but also re-kindled my relationship with her mother (a friend from summer camp). I looked forward to those Wednesday afternoons, and was sad when it came time for me to move across the country to Boston.

Since then, I've managed to get back to San Francisco almost every six months, and I have been able to see Rosie and her family each time. Those visits have been highlights of my trips and I always look forward to seeing how many more things Rosie can do since my last visit (painting, standing, walking, talking...).

Yesterday, after a routine MRI, Rosie's family got the horrible news that there is a new tumor growing in her spine. I feel so overwhelmingly sad and frustrated, both at the news, and at the fact that I can only lend my support from afar this time, instead of being right there with them. So I'm keeping them in my thoughts and sending them lots of love and strength, and I'm begging all of you to do the same.

Rosie & Mommy & Miss Kitty Spring 2006

Singing with Mommy, Spring 2006

Rosie & Daddy, Spring 2006

Rosie & Mommy, Winter 2007












Susannah & Rosie, Spring 2007

Rosie & Susannah, Spring 2008

Swimming Rosie (no more tubies!)
Fall 2007

Dr. Rosie, Halloween 2006

Illin'

Those of you who have been following my status updates on Facebook lately know that I had a lovely bout of what I thought was food poisoning on Sunday night. I spent all day Monday in bed recovering, and then worked all day yesterday. Was working a full day after being so sick a good idea? Perhaps not, but there are no paid sick days when one is a babysitter, and I couldn't stand the thought of watching another full day of bad daytime television.

So off I went, first to sit for the 2.5 year old girl (M) I sat for last year and her 6-month-old brother (Z), and then to sit for a 5-year-old boy (J) and his 3-year-old sister (M), both whom I had also sat for last year.

Despite having no appetite, I was relatively functional at my first home - kicking a ball around the yard, playing with play-doh, having an in-depth conversation about the difference between sticks and roots and branches (M: "You can pick up sticks, but you can't pick up roots!" - brilliant, that child is).

As I headed to the second family's house, I wasn't feeling quite so hot, so I picked up some saltines and ginger ale (lunch of champions) on the way. Munched on those while older brother T and his friends ate birthday cake, and then hung out with J & M while T and his friends went to see a movie.

After walking to J's favorite ice cream store, J telling me he felt like he was going to throw up, getting their ice cream to go, and then walking (a little faster) back home, we got inside just as the thunder began. Unfortunately for J, the thunder in his belly was also doing some work, because he ended up as I had a few nights before. Poor kiddo.

So I finished babysitting around dinner time and was amazed at how much better I was feeling (though exhausted after not a lot of food and quite a bit of energy output caring for these kiddos). On the way home I stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some chicken soup. Ate the soup for dinner, watched the game, and fell asleep happy and optimistic that I was moving past this illness...

So imagine my surprise this morning when I woke up and opened my eyes and immediately felt dizzy. At first I chalked it up to not enough sleep, so I rolled back over and fell back asleep for another hour. But when I woke up the second time, I experienced the same thing - a generally woozy feeling that increased the more I tried to sit or get out of bed.

After another sick day in bed, I went to see my doctor at the end of the day (Sidenote: Special shout-out to TG, as I am 100% convinced that getting to the doctor would not have been possible had it not been for a tip I received that anti-nausea medication might help my woozy body. I took some a few hours before my appointment, and by doing so, gave myself the strength and ability to get to there in one piece).

Because I was able to report to my doctor that the anti-nausea medication had helped to make me less woozy, she determined that my sickness earlier in the week was probably a virus and not food poisoning, and that it had traveled around my body and landed in my ears, causing the dizziness. The technical term for this: Labyrinthitis. The name makes it sound so cool and interesting, but it really REALLY isn't.

Really.

Here's the best part: it can last for a few days, or a few weeks - so there's no way of knowing just how much fun I'm in for in the near future.

For now, I've stocked up on some "less-drowsy" anti-nausea medication and ginger chews and am hoping for the best...

"If You Were in an Accident..."

I have a blog post floating around in my head about this, but for now I'm just going to post the video. It includes what might possibly be my favorite Josh/Donna moment ever on the West Wing.

Scooperbowl Tuesday

Tonight I had ice cream for dinner, and I did not limit myself to just one flavor.

Apparently, every year the Jimmy Fund holds a 3-day fundraiser. Individuals pay $8 and receive a spoon, and then go around to tents to taste-test ice creams from New England vendors. Not sure how I missed this day last year, what with my ice cream radar being what it was, but this year I was prepared.

By my count, I sampled no less than 11 flavors of ice cream (indicated by "*" below). For what it's worth, the cups were (relatively) small, and I didn't always finish my sample, however that doesn't mean that I didn't come away feeling just a little bit ill.

Lessons learned from this evening:

1. It's fun to eat ice cream for dinner.
2. Nobody does cake batter ice cream like J.P. Licks, so don't bother trying any others.
3. The hotter the weather, the faster your ice cream becomes soup - eat fast.
4. Breyers Mint Chocolate Chip is damn good (and worth seconds)

26th Annual Jimmy Fund Scooper Bowl Vendors:
Ben & Jerry's
*Cake Batter
ONE Cheesecake BrownieTM
Imagine Whirled PeaceTM
Strawberry

Breyers®
Vanilla
Strawberry
*Mint Chocolate Chip
*Cookies & Cream

Brigham's®
*Quack TracksTM
Mad Fish Mud
*Coconut Almond Fudge
Xtreme Razberry

Cold Stone Creamery®
*Shock-A-ConeTM
Coffee Lovers Only®
*Founder's Favorite®
Chocolate DevotionTM

Doriti Gelati
Lemon Sorbetto
Orange Sorbetto
Mango Gelato
Vanilla Bean Gelato

Edy's®
*Birthday Cake
Cookies 'N Cream
*Mint Chocolate Chip
Orange Cream Sherbet

Élan Frozen Yogurt®
*Coffee
Chocolate
Vanilla
Black Raspberry

Garelick Farms/Gifford's®
World's Best Chocolate
Maine Wild Blueberry
World's Best Vanilla
*Maine Lobster Tracks

Häagen-Dazs®
Raspberry Sorbet
Belgian Chocolate Chocolate
Pineapple Coconut
Vanilla Honey Bee

HP Hood®
Red Sox Green Monster Mint
Fat Free Vanilla Pomegranate Swirl Frozen Yogurt
Light Martha's Vineyard Black Raspberry
Bear Creek Caramel
Cookies N Cream Itti Bitz

30

In approximately 2 hours, I will be 30 years old. 

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about where I am in my life, where I've been, and where I'm headed. In reviewing my life, I've realized that all of the major decisions I have made in my adult life have been based on one (or more) of three things: job, relationship, and/or location. I moved to Boulder after college because of the location (not Boston or NYC) and my relationship. I moved to San Francisco because of the location and my friendships there. And I moved to Boston because of a "job" (school) and its location (closer to family). 

For the first time in my adult life, I am finding myself completely at a loss for what to do next. Though I have a degree in a field about which I am passionate, I don't yet have a job. I don't have a significant other with whom to consider potential future plans. And though I do enjoy living in Boston, I don't feel particularly tied to this place. It is an interesting position for me to be in, and one that has left me feeling both excited and overwhelmed.

So now, on the eve of my 30th birthday, I look back at my accomplishments thus far, and look ahead to all that awaits me. I think of how right the decision to return to school felt, and trust that other such major decisions will also feel so good and right. I trust that despite often feeling as though I will never find someone with whom I can share my life, there is in fact such a person out there to be found, and I look forward to finding him. I trust that despite not getting the fellowship I thought was made for me, over the next few months a new path will become clear, and I look forward to discovering where that path leads. And I trust that the next 30 years will be filled with just as much joy and laughter and challenge as the past 30, and I look forward to sharing that joy and laughter and challenge with friends and family, old and new.

Fill in the Blank

It's been a rough week.

Despite the high of graduating last week, I think the low of not getting the fellowship has followed me into this week. Couple that with slow days at work and too much time to think and it makes for some not-so-good headspace. I have been left feeling like I no longer know which way is up. The trajectory I thought my life was taking is no longer an option, and I am overwhelmed at the infinite choices that are before me.

I was at a friend's house the other night and when I went into the bathroom, I saw words written on the bathroom mirror. At the top was the phrase "_______ is my antidepressant" and below was a list of items and activities. Each day, my friend would write something new, and focus on that, plus the items on the rest of the list, to keep from sliding into a funk. I liked the idea, but hadn't made time to put it into action for myself.

Today, in an effort to keep my life in perspective, I began my own list. Coming up with something today was admittedly tough - a long day of work followed by a night of babysitting that may or may not be a positive experience, depending on the older child and whether or not he's willing to refrain from wrestling with his baby brother (who is not even one and most definitely cannot fight back). But I did finally come up with something, and today, "walking to work" is my antidepressant.

I've already got tomorrow's picked out: on Thursday, "G" is my antidepressant (because "N's beer" probably shouldn't be featured on this kind of list).

The Big Dig

As promised, this is the post where I share a truly embarrassing bit about myself and trust that those of who who are my friends out there will love me despite the horrors to which I am about to expose you.

I have a very small bedroom. My bedroom is where I sleep, eat breakfast, surf the internet, and do homework, so it requires that I have the tools/space with which to do those things (bed, computer, text books, etc.). Because there is such limited space, I am usually good at putting things away in a timely manner so that my room doesn't get too cluttered. However, when I get stressed everything gets thrown on my bed, and when I'm really stressed, I eventually can't find my bed through it all. Lucky for me, I sleep on one side of the bed and don't move around much, so it doesn't much impact my sleep, however it does make me dread walking into my room.

Today, I reclaimed my bed. But before I show you the end result, let's play a few rounds of "find the hidden objects":

Can you find...?
- 2 purses
- 1 new shirt
- 2 jackets
- 1 recently finished box of Trader Joe's candy cane Joe-Joe's
- 1 book
- 1 Jumbo Super Lint-Buster
- 1 wedding invitation
- 1 sewing kit
- 1 photo of my dad, circa 19__
- 1 Christmas "Ho Ho Ho" wall hanging that was only just removed from my door two weeks ago


That was taken a week ago. As my week got crazier and crazier, with graduation approaching, the pile grew...

Can you find...
- 4 purses
- 2 Red Sox t-shirts (1 red, 1 gray)
- 1 letter from the Direct Loan company telling me I need to start repaying my undergrad loans next month
- 2 final papers
- 1 shoebox
- 2 jackets
- 5 plastic bags
- 1 Elvis mug


Today I am proud to say that I have reclaimed my bedroom. I went through all of my school stuff and filled an entire paper shopping bag with papers to recycle. I collected no less than 13 recyclable bottles and cans from near and far corners of my room. I vaccuumed. I dusted. I did laundry (including my sheets).

Slowly, but surely, I think I'm returning to normal after the past few weeks of intense grad school finals/graduation chaos. And it starts here:

Not My Bus

(There's a tiny bit of my brain that thinks I may have told this story previously on this blog, but I don't have the energy to find it, so if I have, I'm telling it again.)

A few years ago, a friend was visiting me in San Francisco. We were headed downtown and needed to catch the bus. I lived half a block from the bus stop, and as we stepped outside, we saw the bus barrel past. I groaned, as I still had to lock my door and I knew there was no way we'd make it. I said with despair, "That was our bus!" and as we watched it continue down the street, my friend replied simply, "No, it wasn't."

Perhaps it was meant as a joke, but those words resonated with me. How many times in our lives do we lament a missed opportunity, rather than see the positives that might come from it? And so "not my bus" has become my motto whenever things don't turn out as I had hoped or planned. Because if I don't end up catching the bus I had hoped to catch, then it must mean it wasn't my bus to catch in the first place.

Many of you know that I applied for a very competitive fellowship earlier this spring. It is in a field about which I am extremely passionate, and would keep me at this hospital which I love working in so very much. The team of people I would work with would be incredible - leaders in the field - and the work would be more rewarding than anything I have done before.

Today I received notice that I did not get this fellowship.

And as sick and as sad as I feel right now, I have to believe that this fellowship was not my bus... that there is something else out there I am supposed to be doing... that there is some bigger reason for this not working out as I had planned or hoped.

And so I trust in that. Despite my disappointment, I trust in that. And I look forward to discovering the bus out there that is mine, and seeing where it will take me.

Alaska: The State I Love to Eat

So my friend Kate received a gift certificate at Christmas from the family she babysits for and we decided we should have a date night. That was nearly 6 months ago, and last night we finally made use of it.

We hadn't made reservations and the restaurant was surprisingly crowded for a Tuesday night, so we sat at the bar. The bartender Walter was quite nice and gladly poured our celebratory flutes of Prosecco. We toasted to finishing the year, ordered dinner, and caught up on each other's lives.

It's hard to do justice to the experience we had with the man sitting next to us and his daughter, but I'll try:

Man: What is your name?
Me: Phoebe
Man: That is a beautiful name! What a beautiful name! Beautiful.
Me: Thank you
Man (to Kate): And what is your name?
Kate: Kate
Man: Kate!? Don't you feel simple next to Phoebe?

(I can only assume he meant doesn't the name Kate feel simple next to the name Phoebe, but we'll never know.)

He asked if we were celebrating something, and we shared that we had just finished grad school. When he found out we were social workers, he spent the next 10 minutes telling us why social work was such a great field and why the work we do is so important even if we don't get paid much.

Later, after the man had shared part of their second bottle of wine with us, and after repeatedly calling Kate "Nancy" throughout the night, he and his daughter left. The daughter came back because they had forgotten something and as she left said, "Just think - he's increasing your number of future clients every day!"

Our evening ended with Baked Alaska. Neither Kate nor I had experienced this dessert before, and all we could say was WOW. Coconut ice cream and passion fruit caramel. We rolled ourselves out of there full, happy, and feeling like we had properly celebrated the culmination of the past two years of our lives.

Food for Thought

A friend of mine just wrote this article and now I share it with you.

Stay tuned for The Big Dig post - in which I dig my bed out from the piles of clothes, books, and other debris left over from finals.

Show Me the Way to Go Home...

I'm tired and I wanna go to bed.

I had a drink about an hour ago,

And it went straight to my head...

Somehow I got that old camp song in my head while I was walking from the bar where I was having my one celebratory drink (and potstickers! oh, how I love thee, potstickers!) to my car, and it stuck.

Tonight, dear friends, I handed in my last grad school paper EVER. I can't say I'm officially done, because I still have one class to attend tomorrow night at 5, but I can say that I do not have anything left hanging over my head, and that is not a feeling I have had in a very very very long time.

More later. Sleep now.

By the Numbers: an update

Past:
2 - papers written today
1 - hour of babysitting a screaming 5-month-old with his 2.5-year-old sister saying, "Call Mommy and have her get him."
1 - powerpoint presentation created for tomorrow's adventure
5 - enjoyable hours spent on Friday night not thinking at all about school

Present:
3 - classes left
1 - presentation to do
1 - policy paper to be written
1 - group project paper to be edited
1 - take-home test about death and dying to be finished

Future:
1 - week until I (hopefully) hear about the much-desired fellowship
2 - sleep-deprived nights left before the end of my grad school career
12 - days until graduation

Wake Up!

So apparently I have never set my alarm clock for the 8 o'clock hour on a Sunday morning before, because I'm certain I would have remembered a previous experience of being blasted awake by klezmer music. It's not the kind of thing one is likely to forget.

I am Woman - Hear Me... Get Paid 79 Cents to Every Male-Earned Dollar

The backward plight of the working woman
Ellen Goodman
The Boston Globe
May 2, 2008

BY NOW the Tale of Lilly Ledbetter is starting to sound like the Perils of Pauline or the Pre-Feminist Follies. At 70, she's the star of a long-running drama about how hard we have to run to keep from slipping backward.

The Alabama woman was just 26 when Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed to enforce equality in the workplace. The old stalwart - equal pay for equal work - is so universally accepted that we choose to believe it's not just a law but a fact of life.

Our gal Ledbetter, however, worked for two decades in the not-so-female-friendly ranks of Goodyear. Only when she neared retirement did an anonymous tipster slip her a reality check about her paycheck. It turned out that as a female supervisor, she was earning less than her male counterparts. She was paid on average 79 cents for every male dollar, a figure suspiciously close to the national wage gap.

Ledbetter sued and won her case. But Goodyear appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, where Samuel Alito had just replaced Sandra Day O'Connor. Last year, in one of the backward flips that characterize the court, a 5-to-4 majority went against Ledbetter on the grounds that she hadn't sued in time. The justices read the law through their retro lens and decided a worker has to sue within six months after her first unequal pay. It doesn't matter whether she knows she's being treated unfairly and it doesn't matter if she keeps getting underpaid.

In essence, as Marcia Greenberger of the National Women's Law Center said, if a company could pull the wool over an employee's eyes for the first six months, it's free.

An outraged Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg called the decision "totally at odds with the robust protection against workplace discrimination." She concluded her ringing dissent with an appeal to Congress to "correct this court's parsimonious reading of Title VII."

Well, the House of Representatives did just that, and pretty promptly. It passed a bill to restore the rules to allow an employee to sue up to 180 days after the latest unequal paycheck. But when the bill bearing Lilly Ledbetter's name got to the Senate, the Republicans balked. There weren't enough Republican defectors to overcome a filibuster and get the bill on the Senate floor.

Not only did Bush threaten to veto the restoration act, his would-be successor didn't even take time off the campaign trail to vote. John McCain let it be known that he opposed the Ledbetter legislation because it "opens us up to lawsuits for all kinds of problems." This is a little like saying we shouldn't have any laws because they only clog up the courts.

So Lilly lost again. Welcome to 2008. Or is it 1964?

If you've been listening lately, the reasons for the tenacious wage gap between men and women in the 21st century have been dropped on the lap of working women. Women aren't paid equally because they have this nasty habit of giving birth. Or they "opt out." Or they choose jobs that let them get home before the kids' bedtimes. Or they don't know how to negotiate. The fault is not in our workplaces but in ourselves.

The idea that the wage gap might be because of, um, sex discrimination seems soooo 20th century. In fact, the Supreme Court implied that Lilly Ledbetter's lower paycheck was her own fault because she didn't start investigating her employer for sex discrimination as soon as she started her job.

As for the conductor of the Straight Talk Express? McCain said he was all in favor of equal pay for equal work, but that women don't need lawsuits, they need "education and training." So let's begin with a couple of basics.

Lesson One: An unequal paycheck is a thief that keeps on taking. Even in retirement, Ledbetter is still, in her own words, "a second-class worker" with a pension and Social Security check that carry Goodyear's bite marks.

Lesson Two: In 2008, the Republicans are partying - "political partying" - like it's 1964.

Po-tay-to... Po-tah-to

I hate balloons. Hate them. Hate the popping. Hate the squeeking. Hate the sound they make when they're being blown up. All of that tenses up every muscle in my shoulders and puts them somewhere up near my ears.

But I don't feel the same way about mylar balloons.

So today, when I arrived for my final rounds of my internship, and found balloons tied to my chair, I was grateful that I work in a hospital where only mylar balloons are allowed (latex allergies).

Especialy awesome was the largest of the balloons - a 3-foot-high Disney princess castle. And while some might call it a "medieval princess-brothel" I will call it a truly great parting gift*.


*that will be hitting me in the head during the entire 15-minute walk to class tonight.

Do you want to make more money? Sure! We all do!

So I got a job today.

Well, not exactly.

But I got authorized to work up to 32 hours/week at the hospital through May.

Pretty much, it means I do the same work I've been doing all year at my internship, only it's on another unit and now I get paid for it.

So the story is that they hired someone to work on this new unit, but she can't start until June 1st. Right now, there is one woman covering the floor, but she is entirely overworked with her own units, and so it's all a bit chaotic. Anyway, since I have been doing similar work all year, and since I have nothing else to be doing (what with school being over in a week!!!), they offered me this very temporary position. Yay!

Income is good.

Also, I interviewed today for a sort-of full-time position coming up in the hospital (complicated explaination as to why it's not definitely full-time). The position itself is exactly what I want to be doing, but after learning more about it, I'm convinced that the fellowship is definitely still my first choice.

Word on the street is that they're aiming to make a decision about the fellowship within the next week or two (I'm thinking it will be closer to two), so with any luck, I'll have some news on that right around the time I graduate.

As always, stay tuned...

Please Stand By

Fibby is in the process of writing the last papers of her grad school career and has very little time to do much other writing.

By the numbers, her life looks like this:

2 - days left at her internship
6 - classes left
2 - presentations to do
1 - paper about family preservation and reunification to be written
1 - policy paper to be written
1 - legislative testimony to be written and read to the class
1 - group project paper to be edited
1 - reflection paper to be written about above-mentioned group project
1 - take-home test about death and dying to be finished
10 - hours of sleep in the past 2 nights
5 - interviews for desired fellowship in the past week
1 - remaining interview for desired fellowship sometime this week
1 - interview for an upcoming hospital position today
6.5 - hours of playing with C. on Thursday to make her laugh (including up to 2.5 hours of nap time)
2+ - hours of playing with M. (and possibly newborn Z.) on Saturday night to make her laugh

Check back for regular updates on her progress throughout the week.

HotHotHotHotHot

One might think, if one looked at the Boston weather forecast for today and then read this post title, that I am writing about the temperature outside, but one would be wrong.

Where I work, I split my time between the floors where I see families and my cubicle space where I type up notes, check emails, etc. It is this cubicle space that has become a sauna in the past few weeks.

At first, I thought it was just me. I thought I was wearing too many layers or something. But this morning I was sitting in my cubicle overheating wearing a short-sleeved shirt. And then I overheard the woman in the cubicle next to mine call facilities management to complain and inform them that our office space is 80-degrees.

Now, 6 hours later, I just overheard that same girl say she was going to find the facilities person herself because her call this morning had done nothing and it is now 83-degrees.

I am officially melting.

On the Positive Side...

I hate being sick. HATE being sick.

During the first day or so of an illness (cold, stomach flu, whatever), I am grumpy and generally not all that fun to be around. I usually confine myself to my room and disconnect from the world for a while.

After my body goes through the initial shock of the illness, and has regained the upper hand, I begin to return to my usual self. This can mean anything from showering and getting dressed to eating something solid. As I get my strength back, my sense of humor returns too, and provides me with a bit of a coping mechanism.

For example, every few years I get an awful coughing sickness. I have no idea what it is, but it keeps me up coughing all night. I walk around like the living dead for a week or so, and load up on all sorts of medicines that don't really help, and it sucks. But every time I have gotten this awful coughing sickness, I have eventually gotten to a place where I can joke and say, "Well, this sucks, but at least my abs are getting a good workout!"

So wouldn't you know that today, just as I had found the silver lining in this past weekend's sickness ("Well, this has sucked, but maybe I lost a few pounds!"), I got a text message from a concerned friend reminding me to try to eat or drink because I "need the calories".

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. I mean, I'm not a cow or anything, but I'm far from wasting away after a day of no solid foods. Still, the sentiment was sweet. We should all be so lucky to have friends like that.

Best Laid Plans

So my plan for the weekend was this:

Friday evening - get some work done

Saturday morning - get some work done

Saturday afternoon - go see a friend in a ballroom dance competition

Saturday night - meet up with friends

Sunday morning - hang out with friends

Sunday afternoon - get some work done

Sunday evening - get some work done

Monday morning - get some work done

Monday afternoon - watch the marathon

Monday evening - go to trivia night


Here's how my weekend has actually gone so far:

Friday evening - stay at home because I'm too exhausted from my week to get any work done. Kick some ass in Scramble (without any help).

Saturday morning - get up late, do some laundry, go for a run

Saturday afternoon - realize there's not enough time to get any significant amount of work done before the ballroom dance competition. Invite a friend over to hang out. Head to ballroom dance competition. Enjoy immensely.

Saturday night - meet up with a friend for dinner, then head to an improv show. Then meet up with friends from out of town.

Sunday morning - breakfast with friend. Get home... start feeling sick.

Sunday afternoon - sleep, be sick, sleep, watch West Wing on DVD.



This brings us to Sunday evening (now). I really need to make up for the lack of work done so far this weekend, but my splitting headache and wonky stomach aren't motivating me all that much to do so. And there are multiple West Wing episodes to be watched, and Monk and Psych are both on NBC tonight, and... and... and...

But it does leave an unbelievable amount of work to be done tomorrow if I do nothing tonight.


On a side note, if any of you ever get the opportunity to attend a ballroom dance competition, I highly recommend going (especially if it's free). It's fun. As the level of skill increases, so does the level of complexity of the costumes. It's just like you would imagine, only you're there in person to witness it, and you can't stop grinning because it's so surreal and yet so cool. And the dresses... wow.

Also, watching ballroom dancing is a lot more stressful than you might think - especially when watching from high up in the bleachers. From that angle, you see very clearly which couples are heading for a crash with each other, and it gets quite anxiety-producing (especially if the couple you're there to see is involved in such a crash).

Favorite dances: Quickstep (because - wow - that takes some skill) and Viennese Waltz (it just looks so grand with those long, flowy dresses).

Why I Love My Job

Part I:
Last fall, I met with a family whose newborn son had been born with some serious health complications. Eventually it was determined that he had a very rare disease that would be life-limiting. The family was devestated, but also optimistic, and through their faith and strength, they faced the uncertain future of their baby with a sense of determination and also peace.

During their stay, I would often go check in on whichever parent was around, just to give them the opportunity for adult conversation. We'd talk about their children and family and friends and life in general, and they'd ask me about school and my life as well. As an intern, I was aware of the fine line between sharing too much about my personal life with this family, and at the same time, I knew that what they needed at that point was conversation that didn't revolve around their son's health issues, and so I shared with them little stories about school and such.

This family has returned to the hospital for outpatient visits since their original stay, but my schedule hasn't allowed me to drop in and say hi.

Yesterday I managed to catch them, and when the mother saw me her face lit up. We talked and caught up. She told me that though her son wasn't doing any better, they had managed to take a trip to her native country so that her family could meet him. She still had the same positive attitude and peaceful demeanor that I remembered. And most surprisingly, she remembered things about my life that I had shared in our conversations so long ago. She asked about school and my plans for the future, and pulled out details that even I had forgotten I had shared.

It was incredible to re-connect with this mother, and to know that I was as memorable to her as she was to me. I left work with a smile on my face.

Part II:
Today I was riding an elevator with a patient, her younger brother, and their mother. The younger brother was jumping out of his skin with excitement, and when I commented that it looked as though they were going on an adventure, he said, "We're going to see firemen!" All of the family members looked so excited to be getting out of their hospital rooms and going to a hospital event.

I followed them to the event and hung out in the back for a while. It turned out to be a policeman and not a fireman who was there, but the little boy didn't seem to mind.

It was a nice break to my day, and I continued on my way.

As it happens it was a rather slow day today, and so later on I was walking up the stairs and saw a sign - hand-made by someone who I am guessing is about 10 - advertising a magic show.

So I stopped to watch.

If any of you ever need to have your day improved significantly, I highly recommend watching a children's magic show. Not for the magic, but for the reactions of the kids.

There was laughter, there was shouting, there was one kid who just kept exclaiming excitedly "No way!" every time the magician performed a trick.

I couldn't stop grinning. And I still can't.

All the difficult days I've had here were erased with the sights and sounds of a room full of sick kids and their parents being given the opportunity to forget their illnesses for a few minutes and just be kids.

I love this place.

Classic Fibby

My cousin decided it would be fun to scan in some old family photos and to email them to me. I refuse to post the photo of me with big glasses and a hairdo reminiscant of Mary Poppins, but I will share this one.

Play Ball! - Addendum

I have just been informed of another way that people celebrate opening day: giving birth. Apparently, in addition to all of the really exciting things that happened in my life yesterday that I was actively a part of (and that had nothing to do with baseball), an even more exciting thing took place that I wasn't witness to:

Baby Girl HebMo made her grand entrance onto this planet.



Welcome to the world, little one. I'm madly in love with you already and I haven't even met you.

Play Ball!

Some people celebrate opening day by going to the game.

Some celebrate by watching the game on TV.

Some celebrate by getting free ice cream.

Me? Despite the fact that I work blocks from Fenway, my day was spent:

- Following up with a depressed teenage boy who was just diagnosed with a rare chronic illness

- Meeting with a mother to determine the level of medical noncompliance taking place regarding her teenage daughter's medical regimine

- Facilitating a presentation in Class #1 on the topic of family preservation when dealing with medical noncompliance as a result of religious beliefs.

- Sitting through 2 1/2 hours of 10-minute presentations in Class #2.

- Meeting with my landlord to negotiate rent (she wanted to raise it $500, we didn't) (we won)



I did purchase a pair of Red Sox earrings on my way to work in the morning, though, so all was not lost.

Glass Half-Full

It is only appropriate after my last post about my mother finding a matchmaker to help me get a date that I get a call from my sister telling me she is engaged.

Now let me first just say for the record that I am absolutely excited for her and I love her and I love her fiance and she deserves all the happiness that will come to her with this wonderful man.

And yet... she's my little sister. And in less than 6 months she has purchased a house and gotten engaged. I think I'm starting to understand a little bit how it must feel to be a younger sibling, watching your older sibling go through all the important life milestones first and being happy and also jealous at the same time.

I'm not a glass-half-empty kind of person by nature. I'm really happy with where my life is right now and I'm not the type to feel sorry for myself about being single. And yet there's a piece of me that is definitely getting a little down that I haven't yet found someone with whom I can spend my life.

A few years ago, my standard line was, "I know there is someone out there and I'm not worried - I'm sure we'll find each other." I still think that today, but I have to admit I've now considered that it might not happen. DON'T WORRY reader friends - I haven't considered it too seriously. I'm definitely not giving up. But the fact that I've admitted to myself that this whole "finding a life partner" thing might be a little harder than all my coupled friends make it look is noteworthy, I think.

I had a friend who told me recently that she had been thinking about all her single friends and could say why all of them were single... except me. Now of course she could have been saying that to be nice, but I like to think she meant it. I definitely have single friends who are single for good reason (and often don't know that reason), and I also have single friends who are absolutely relationship-ready, but just can't seem to find that person.

I've been "relationship-ready" for a while now. It didn't come easy - there was a lot of soul-searching through reflection, conversation, bad dates, and bad poetry before I figured out who I was and what I wanted. And now I know exactly what I want and unlike the me of years past, I'm not willing to settle for less.

But is that really a bad thing? I like that I'm clear about what I want. I like that I know what I'm worth and that I know (after some memorable experiences) I don't have to or want to settle for less. I believe that I can have funny and kind and intelligent and independent and adventurous and mellow and sexy and an understanding of the rules of basic grammar all in one person.

Most importantly, I still believe I can find that person.

So this is a public pep-talk, I guess. A reminder to myself that despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I will most likely not end up an old maid. (And a reminder to all of you out there who are reading this and who are in relationships that the LAST thing I want to hear is any variation on the popular, "Yeah, it's tough out there, but you'll find someone!")

The fact of the matter is that though I haven't found someone for myself yet, I can still be really excited and happy for the other people in my life who have. And it's not like I don't get to have some fun in the process too - fun weddings to attend, the honor of officiating and/or being the maid of honor in a few, and now the baby showers (oh, the baby showers!).

There are times that I feel that I am overflowing with happiness for others. But it is shared happiness, and it is mine just as much as it is theirs. I feel so lucky to share in the lives of so many incredible people. And though I haven't found funny and kind and intelligent and independent and adventurous and mellow and sexy and an understanding of the rules of basic grammar all in one person just yet, my friends encompass all of those qualities and can fill that role in the meantime.

So for now, I continue to celebrate life milestones with others, and to trust that the happiness of finding a partner-in-crime-for-life will come to me to.

It Has Come to This

My parents just returned from a well-deserved trip to Costa Rica. They were celebrating my mom's retirement, and also just taking some time away from their busy lives (yes, retired people can be busy too!). When they returned, they told me about the flowers and wildlife they saw, and the adventures they had (Dad on a zip line!). But there was one thing they forgot about... until tonight.

Tonight my mom called to catch up, and as we were talking, she said, "Oh - I almost forgot to tell you about this..." Well, it turns out that she befriended a woman on the trip who, in addition to her day job, also likes to do some matchmaking. I'm not sure if this factoid came up before or after my mother mentioned that she had an eligible daughter, but it came up. And the matchmaker lady shared that the son of a friend lives in Boston and is a good catch and perhaps she could set us up.

Now for those of you who don't know my mother, let me just say that she's not the type to make suggestions about how I should go about living my life (mostly because she learned early on that I rarely took her advice on such matters). She is entirely non-obtrusive, and also entirely supportive, and she is definitely not the type to be pressuring me to get married or to give her grandchildren.

So there I was on the phone with my mother, thinking, "Really? It has come to this?" and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

But, like a true soon-to-be-entering-her-4th-decade-on-this-earth single female, I agreed and by day's end, there was an email cc-ed to me from my mother to her matchmaker friend, giving her the go-ahead to proceed with the matchmaking.

Really?!

Headline on MSNBC.com today:

Study: Slobby Guys Create More Work for Wives

This is news?! Really!?

Big Brother

I don't have an older brother. But Seth comes pretty damn close. I've known him since high school when we sat next to each other in band. He went off to college and I followed him 2 years later (well, one and a half, if you want to be technical).

Over the years, he shared his love of laughing (and Monty Python), his class-skipping techniques, his wisdom, and his hugs with me. We've seen each other through major breakups. We've left each other countless voicemail messages. And almost 2 years ago, I was honored to officiate his wedding ceremony.

Today is Seth's birthday. If I lived closer to him, I would celebrate with him, but since I don't, I'm using the internet to send my good wishes (and a virtual cake).



Happy Birthday Seth!

In Treatment

Last night there was nothing on television, and so I checked out In Treatment, which I had been meaning to do for a while. I don't have HBO, so I watched a bunch of the episodes online and found them to be fascinating. It might be the fact that I'm a social worker, but I was immediately hooked.

That said, there are some things I didn't love. I felt some of the dialog was too awkward and scripted. I think Paul makes a little too much use of the "How did that make you feel?" question, which makes him sound like the stereotypical shrink. And, of course, there's the unrealistic amount of drama that seems to be a requirement for any television drama show out there.

What do I mean? Well, Paul is a therapist. He sees clients all day. These clients have issues (some more serious than others... we assume he has more than the 4 clients we see, and that we're just getting to see the ones with the most interesting stories). Those people already bring their own drama: relationship confusion, suicide attempts, family relationship issues, etc. That level of drama, though high, is believable because those are the kinds of things that therapists deal with regularly as they help people.

What I found a little over-the-top was the fact that Paul's personal life falls to shambles within the first few episodes. This isn't to say that therapists don't have challenging personal lives every now and then, but the writers took his personal life crises from 0-60 in the span of three episodes. I understand that the angle of a therapist examining his own life troubles while also being a therapist to others who are examining theirs is interesting. But do his life troubles have to be so big?

Twenty-five of each twenty-seven minute episode is spent in a therapy session, with just two people talking (or three, in the case of the couple who are in therapy). It is intense and raw and powerful. And at the same time, there is something about it that I just couldn't connect with.

But I kept watching. So HBO must be doing something right.

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This past weekend I purchased a Wii online (thankyouverymuch, eBay), and last night it arrived.

I have been obsessing about getting a Wii for a while now, and found an auction where I didn't have to overbid, so I went for it.

Of course, it came yesterday, which is the day of the week when I speed walk home from work, scarf down a bowl of cereal for dinner, and then race off to babysit. So when I got home and saw the boxes, all I could do was wave at them. Lucky for me, the parents I sit for on Wednesdays never stay out late, so I came home and set it all up and bowled and boxed and loved every second of it.

And, as I had hoped, I am sore today (hopefully from the boxing and not the bowling), which already justifies the expense (Gym membership or Wii? Wii, of course!).

So tonight I'm grabbing pizza with a friend, and then we're coming back to my house to play any of the 14 Wii games I now own (I got Wii Play in addition to Wii Games and have 2 of each controller, so we can even box together!).

Bring on the fun. Bring on the sore muscles. Bring on the friends coming out of the woodwork wanting to come over and play Wii.

Round Things Roll

I hated high school chemistry. However, I got through it because my high school chemistry teacher, Mr. Brown, was awesome. Though I've managed to forget most of that class, one lesson sticks out in my head. We were all paired up around our test tubes and bunsen burners and all of the sudden we heard the unmistakable sound of a test tube crashing to the floor. Without missing a beat, Mr. Brown made use of the teachable moment by exclaiming, "Look - round things roll!" A reminder to all of us not to leave our test tubes unsupervised, but said in a silly way that kept anyone from feeling badly about the broken test tube.

*******************************************

When I was home in Maine a few weeks ago, I went to Marden's and along with a whole lot of yarn and a few dress shirts, I picked up some Easter egg dye. I figured I could have some friends over for an egg dyeing party sometime before Easter.

Last weekend when I did my grocery shopping, I picked up a few cartons of eggs in preparation for the easter egg dyeing festivities. It wasn't until after I had purchased all the egg dyeing supplies that I looked at my calendar and realized that between classes, babysitting, and dinner at my friends' house, I didn't have any free time to host an egg dyeing party.

Sooo, I called up my friends who were hosting the Friday night dinner and asked if they thought it would be fun to do egg dyeing after dinner. Always up for an adventure, they said yes. There were six of us at dinner, and we all had a blast sitting around after dinner and decorating eggs. I came back home with 8 colorful hard-boiled eggs that night.

******************************************

For the past two mornings, I have fixed my usual breakfast of cereal, and also a hard boiled egg.

For the past two mornings, I have put the hard boiled egg on the counter while I poured my cereal and milk.

And for the past two mornings, my egg has rolled off the table and crashed to the floor.

Apparently, round things (still) roll.

Survivor: Micronesia - Episode 7

Ah, you sneaky Episode 7, coming on a Wednesday night this week.

I had just enough time to watch before heading to work this morning (I like a leisurely breakfast) and here are my thoughts:

- I loved Cirie the last time she played, but this time, she just annoys me. I understand that she's not a strong swimmer, but she stayed on the boat, so why was she complaining and making a big deal about it. Shouldn't she know by now that no one likes a whiner?

- Speaking of complaining, all the girls sitting around complaining about Ozzy and Erik getting coconuts was just rediculous - the guys are getting them food while they sit on their butts. I don't think they're in a position to be complaining.

- Kathy's departure... Explain this to me. Isn't there some rule about not being able to go home or be in touch with family even if you leave early because then people would know you didn't make it for the whole time? Maybe that's only for the jury? I'm just confused because if I'm right, then how will Kathy be able to be in touch with her family, even if she leaves the game?

- I loved James' Yoda-like wisdom after Kathy left. Not sure when he became a wise old man, but it showed a different side of him and I liked it.

- Was Ami on crack when she said that she thought that Tracy was more into the game than Erik? Really, Ami? Really? When was the last time Tracy climbed a tree for coconuts? Or did anything useful, for that matter?

Quote of the week: "I don't want anyone to think that I'm quitting" (Kathy, when talking to Jeff and her tribe) Ummmm... but you are.

Runner-up quote of the week: "This game IS called Survivor." (James - when pointing out that all the girls on his tribe do is complain)

Sunday Fun

If you usually spend your Sunday nights sitting around and dreading the fact that Monday morning is just around the corner, I highly recommend getting yourself to the nearest imax theater and catching the U2 3D concert movie.

Movies in 3D are crazy anyway, but this was like nothing I had ever seen.

I also recommend spending your Sunday afternoon with a good friend, wandering through a local bookstore and then sitting in a coffee shop for a while. Neither requires conversation, but both offer the opportunity for interaction if desired, which is a nice. It's also fun to wander around together and look at the drunk St. Patrick's Day revelers, then go get dinner before the movie.

And before all that relaxation time, I highly recommend doing lots of productive things like paying bills and grocery shopping and cleaning the kitchen and doing laundry. And if you can find the time to purchase a new hair product that makes your hair feel silky-smooth, then do that too.

In all, a great Sunday and one I'd repeat again anytime.

Survivor: Micronesia - Episodes 1-6

Ok, so I haven't been doing weekly blog entries about Survivor this season because I haven't had the time, but I'm on break this week and trying to catch up on some things and so here I am.

I don't have many specifics to talk about, but here are a few:

1. Chet. He SUCKED. Seriously - he was the most pathetic contestant ever to be on the show. He never once looked like he was trying, and definitely never once looked like he was in the game to win it. Mostly, he just looked consistantly surprised that he was in the game at all, and that he kept avoiding getting voted out. I loved that Probst didn't even try to talk him out of volunteering to go home. I can't think of another time that Jeff hasn't guilt-tripped the person who wants to go home when he has found out about it. That says a lot. Good riddance, Chet. I can't believe you got this far.

2. Speaking of Jeff, I also can't remember a past time when Jeff has had such a heartfelt goodbye with a contestant who has had to leave for medical reasons. Perhaps that's because other medical reasons have been more urgent, and haven't allowed for official goodbyes, but I was really touched by his goodbye to Jonathan. Side note - when did Jonathan become "Penner" and not "Jonathan"??? There's not another Jonathan on this season, so what's the deal?

3. Is anyone else as incredulous as I am that CBS seemed to pick the most pathetic Survivor fans for this season? They're all supposed to be super-fans, but they fell victim to the "our tribe can't pull together to make a shelter in the first 48 hours at our campsite" fate, and none of them seem to be all that knowledgable about much in terms of survival skills and/or strategy (see above rant about Chet). I'm just not really clear what each of them brings to the table that qualifies them as super-fans, because to be honest, I've seen plenty of "regular" players who knew Survivor skills better than this crew. I'm disappointed. I wanted there to be some real competition.

4. James is nice to look at.

5. I love Ozzy. Even though he was stupid enough to vote Joel out and keep Chet for an extra 3 days, I love him. He's incredible to watch in the challenges, and he really plays the game. He's like a male version of Stephanie (ok, not really, but I love him like I loved her). I was having trouble breathing when I thought there was a chance he'd be voted out.

6. Was I right in seeing that in next week's episode, the Airai tribe is scrounging for food? How is that possible after the challenge they just won where people came and showed them how to catch fish and coconut crabs?

In other news, I'm back from my tour of Maine where I stayed with friends, parents, and more friends, played with dogs, played with kids, purchased a whole lotta yarn at Marden's, sang a lot in my car, and got some much-needed (and deserved) relaxation.

Many thanks to my hosts along the way. I can't wait until I no longer have homework as an excuse to keep me here on weekends - I promise more fun weekend playdates post-graduation.

Many thanks, also, to my friend for hosting Survivor night tonight. There is little better than watching Survivor with someone else - especially when we get to catch up and tell each other rediculous stories about severed manniquin heads and air mattresses and such. Good times.

Happy Friday to all and to all a good weekend!

Still Kicking

Ok, I know I've been really bad at updating my blog. Really really bad.

Sorry.

I have started multiple blog entries, but haven't managed to finish any of them, so I know they don't really count.

I'm on break right now at home in Maine with my parents and what may be the cutest dogs ever. With any luck, I might have some updates for you all this week, but until then, here are some photos from this morning's doggie photo shoot: