On get me the hell out of this town...

Ok. It's gotten serious. I've started to covet cowboy boots, started thinking chaps are kind of kickin and, well, I bought a cowboy hat.

I need to get home. Now.

But this is what Austin does to you. It's Texas but it's not. It's everything that's kind of intriguing about Texas but without Republicans.

The last 24 hours here have probably been among my most fun. I had dinner with a bunch of friends at an outdoor restaurant called Shady Grove. All the tables were placed under the branches and leaves of this massive tree (hence, shady grove) and from the branches were strings of lights tied to long poles at the opposite end. The restrooms, well, they were in trailers. Are you getting my drift? But I had the best queso of my existence and fried chicken so good I wanted to cry. Oh, and the margaritas were pretty swell too.

I got a good sleep last night and awoke in time to enjoy a leisurely brunch at a fantastic local place called Moonshine. It was a buffet and offered the more traditional brunch fare along with some of the better Tex Mex I've had during my time here. I tasted mini-bagels with lox, a quiche of sorts with tortilla and cheddar cheese, a glorified pigs in blankets with melted cheese inside and chorizo sausage, oh, and did I mention the white chocolate bread pudding? Insane. I brought the paper and read an article comprising the entire front section about the spending habits of the UT Football program. Maybe I shouldn't have bought that shirt after all.

The two things I truly dislike about work travel are being away from those I love and eating alone. I used to be a lot better about it than I've been recently, I guess because my solo work travel was a lot more frequent a few years ago. As I've mentioned before, you're usually guaranteed sub par service and a that initial reaction to "Brunch for one, please!" is usually subconscious on the part of the reactor and rarely without a tinge of pity. Sigh. Still, it was fantastic and got me through a three hour college fair without any belly rumblings.

Tonight, however, I have turned down an invitation to eat with a former colleague and his family to eat room service and really get some work done. It's a downright necessity at this point. As ready as I am to go, however, I am grateful that this, the longest trip I'll have this travel season, has been in such a friendly city with so much character and so much going on. Though I'm very much ready to leave, I know I'll jump at the chance to return. It'll give me an excuse to buy the boots.

On Lizards and Street Fairs

Today was a most productive day, the final day, at the conference I'm attending. 3 sessions, a general membership meeting and an "ultimate backyard BBQ" social tonight. It's been hard to stay focused on the purpose at hand, however, with a UT home football game going on just two miles away and a fabulous street fair just two blocks over from the convention center. Even more distracting, however, was the fact that the conventions center also booked a RollerGirls Derby just a few meeting rooms down from us. Now THAT was a sight. Let me tell ya, those girls are badass and a little scary. Seeing them next to guidance counselors and deans of admission, though, was at least funny enough to get me through the fear.

I took my lunch break and the time after my final meeting to explore the street fair. First of all, I've never seen so many school t-shirts in the span of 7 city blocks. If you weren't in a Longhorn t-shirt, you were a tourist. That was that.

Here's a shot of the fair:




There were some amazing artisans on display. Absolutely beautiful home made (and home priced!) jewelry, crafts and paintings. I chatted with a jewelry/handbag maker, a recent transplant to Houston, TX but a native New Yorker. She lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn for much of her final years in NY, a place I've spent a lot of time in my 20s, so this once again affirms my belief there really are only 100 people in the world. Now I've met number 76.

I strolled the fair and went into a couple of local shops in order to get some souvenirs for some folks back home. I did buckle and get a Longhorns t-shirt for myself. After all, I AM shopping for a football team and nobody said it had to be NFL. Furthermore, since my biggest issue with the Patriots, prior to Magnavox-Gate or whatever they're calling it, was how they'd strayed from their working class reputation, I can attest to the fact that UT still seems to speak to a local and humble fan base. So, bonus. The shopkeepers were all incredibly friendly but also very down to earth. This town has that great balance of hospitality that isn't all over you and, therefore, completely suspect. They're glad you're here, hope you have a good time and let 'em know if they can help you out. I was a big fan of the shopkeeper at Lucky Lizard who had the lizard the shop was named for on his shoulder the entire time I was there. He also owns the "Museum of the Weird" attached to his store (entry fee $3).

As I strolled around I succumbed to my total love for signs. I don't know what it is, but I find shop and bar signs totally fascinating. Clearly I was some sort of graphic designer in another life. Here are some of my favorites:



I had a wonderful time walking around, taking in the smells and sounds of the fair. The variety of food and drink was awesome and people walked around freely with beer and frozen drinks. Knowing I'm a cheap bastard and need a receipt for anything I wanted to be reimbursed for, I swung by Starbucks on my way back to the hotel for some fruit and creme frappuccino goodness. I walked past a couple of guys having beers at halftime of the UT game. "Hey there," they said as I walked by. As I was mid-sip and not willing to stop drinking for total strangers, I simply waved. "Wanna beer?" "I shook my head no, and laughed. For whatever reason, that wasn't at all creepy. It was really just funny, particularly as I was dressed like a soccer mom, still from the conference, and, well, I guess that makes them drunk.

These are just a few of the memories I'll take away from my time in Austin. That and it's the only city where I've had to pop into a pharmacy mid-day to buy deodorant due to a severe pit out situation. How the hell do people survive the summer here?

On being naked in Austin...

No. Not me. I just walked up and down 6th Street with an old colleague and was greeted by an elderly man in a black string bikini, sporting nothing else but a long gray beard and an Amish style hat.

Welcome to Austin.

I finally had gen-u-wine Texas BBQ tonight. I'm going back to the same place tomorrow but, really, it's ok. My former colleague invited me along to dinner with her current colleagues. She told me today she is 4 months pregnant, making that the third former colleague pregnancy I've learned about in the last 36 hours at this conference. I'm praying it's not "in the BBQ sauce" here. I'm also completely thrilled for all of them. One is a cancer survivor and this is her first. The other is carrying her second after suffering a miscarriage before her first. Though I'm not a religious person, I feel blessings all around me.

What was interesting about walking around tonight was a few of us commented on how much this part of Austin reminded us of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Live music surrounds you, bar and club door "men" beckon your entry with flirtatious compliments and promises of $2 shots. There are even some bars with balconies. Something about the lights and the architecture tends to complete the package. Oh, and the horse drawn carriages help as well. I was just waiting for taunts of beads. All shapes and sizes roam about, but there are just enough UT girls to make you wonder if you could have EVER fit into that skirt, like, say, when you were 6 years old. It's a vibrant crazy scene though. I'm told 4th street is more "for the older crowd", but I'd rather pretend that doesn't apply to me and simply ignore it.

I'm in early. I've yet to exceed 11 in returning from evening festivities. It's really ok with me. As many of you know I'm no fan of the bar/club scene and being surrounded by other "colleagues" from different schools doesn't make me want to get drunk. I'm simply proud of myself for having plans each night and experiencing the area. I feel like such an old lady sometimes, but the only child in me simply requires some quiet time.

My goals for any remaining free time on this trip include the following: getting ice cream at Amy's, having dinner at Sandra Bullock's restaurant (I just found out about it tonight!), and checking out UT-Austin. I guess there's a football game tomorrow that many conference attendees are trying to get tickets for instead of going to sessions. I can't say I blame them. Of the three, I'll be lucky if I can complete one of those tasks and, let's face it, it'll be the ice cream.

On the work family...

I've had four places of full-time employment post college. I stayed at the second job the longest, four years, and despite some major ups and downs, have yearned for the family environment I had there at each office since.

Tonight I reconnected with four guys I worked with back in that office. Two of them were like brothers to me (one older, one younger). The other two, if I'm being completely honest, were sources of mass irritation at times (particularly when one dated my good friend/roommate and treated her like crap) but, at the end of the day, I enjoyed working with them and they were a hell of a lot friendlier than many of the colleagues I've had since.

Seeing them today was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I was able to mix right back into the conversation, as if I'd never left. We shared horror stories and they updated me on recent changes/scandals, and we had a blast. What was most amazing to me, however, was this. These boys are all "grows up".

That sounds so condescending. Three of the four are actually older than me, though only one by more than two years. Still, these guys are in completely different places than when we last worked together two years ago. One, my big brother, is now a proud papa. One is about to propose to his girlfriend (a different girlfriend from the last time I saw him) and the other two will quickly follow. It was just kind of incredible. They've all advanced professionally in their own ways and are all about to take the next step in their personal lives too. I don't know why, but I felt a lot of pride. I definitely saw them in their "don't quite want to grow out of college mode yet" stage, and while that provided a lot of laughs, it was great to see them just as charming, but a lot more sober. Of course, what was craziest, was seeing my "younger brother". He was just a student when we met, and he was my student traveler on recruitment trips. We became really close and I remember being devastated upon learning he was working for our office instead of going to med school, his original plan. But seeing him tonight, knowing he is in this element and just feels so good at what he does, not to mention passionate about it, completely warmed my heart.

It does make me sad that I've yet to be able to recapture what I have with this group of guys, most of who I maybe exchange e-mails or IMs with once every six months. I still yearn for a workplace that carries that level of camaraderie. Then again, this place where they still work is a place I've always likened to a higher ed version of bootcamp. They break you down to build you back up. Essentially, we have shared professional war scars, and perhaps that is what has made being around these guys so great.

On waiting for the Wilson brothers

I just returned from a happy hour with my fellow workshop attendees. It was a nice event, low key, open bar and live music. Since networking was an implicit part of this happy hour, I enjoyed one cocktail and switched to soda. After all, my margarita at dinner was a bit intense.

So all you ever hear about Austin is the music scene. Though I know it's not limited to country and jazz, that's all I was expecting. Instead, I found myself completely transported. There were two guitarists, a drummer, a violinist and a flautist. The violin and the flute appeared to be played by two high school aged girls. Nevertheless, as the music surrounded my conversation, I couldn't help but feel like I was in the middle of a Wes Anderson movie. I expected to look to my left and see one of the Wilson brothers, standing next to Bill Murray, about to film their next take. It was bizarre. Then again, the Wilson boys being Texas born, for all I know this is the band featured in the soundtrack of every movie in which they've appeared, making me far less clever than I want to believe I am. Nevertheless, it was fresh, unexpected and dodged any sort of genre or label I could attempt to apply.

I loved it.

When in Austin...

I just ate at the Real World House. No, it wasn't a special MTV promotion. The Real World Austin house has since been converted into a restaurant. Though I have to promise myself to have different Tex Mex before I leave (it's the draw of the "place", not the food, that makes it popular), I'm tickled, and slightly embarrassed, to have taken part in this low level pop culture adventure.

I wonder how many people had sex in my booth. Ew. I'm off to take a shower.

On 6,000 professionals gathered ... my ass

Today went a little something like this..

In the middle of speaking in a workshop small group today, a fellow attendee interrupted me because she knew she knew me somehow. I recognized her as well and it had been driving me crazy. We finally determined we'd hung out a couple of times through an old colleague of mine in Boston. We caught up on gossip on said colleague, and I resumed my clearly fascinating comment. Phew. Resolved. Keep in mind this workshop was being directed by two gentlemen with whom I've worked before through my last job. At lunch we mixed with another workshop where I reintroduced myself to a counselor I met in Ecuador last year (she now works in Germany - and I thought relocating to DC was a big move), and another I met in Jersey earlier this summer.

On the way back to my hotel, I bumped into an old Associate from my "two jobs ago" place of employment. We hugged, and quickly caught up while she waited for a cab. She gave me the skinny on their most recent staff departure, and we promised to get caught up for real sometime later this week. I, after all, was on my way to change for dinner with another former colleague from the same place who just married one of my college buddies and, no, their introduction had nothing to do with me.

On my way to meet Courtney for dinner, my dear friend/former colleague at this same place of employment called to say hi and to tell me she'd just returned from a college tour with another former colleague of ours who now lives right here in Texas. She told me this story as I hugged Courtney. I then passed the phone to Courtney so they could do a 90 second catch up.

This after dinner with an old boss and other former colleague from a different place last night. And keep in mind I am over 1500 miles from home.

Can you believe I still have at least 10 more people to catch up with that I KNOW are here?

Basically, there are no more than about 100 people in the world. This was proven to me today. The faster everyone learns this, the faster we should realize that burning bridges is simply never an option.

On getting to know me...

I'm attending a two day preconference workshop dedicated to getting a better understanding of the job I was originally hired to do. Since I'm also "acting" in the position that original position typically reports to, I'm already hearing a lot of conversations about why people in my position are so unreasonable.

And I've paid for this experience. Fantastic.

The day started with a fairly cool icebreaker (anything having to do with Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, I mean, Separation, is aces in my book), and we took yet another Myers-Briggs type personality assessment. Though I only hold partial faith in these assessments, I do find them fascinating. But, really, only because I'm way to self-interested than I'll ever admit to any of you. Oh wait. I just did.

Anyway, as with most of these assessments, there were certain aspects that were 100% right on, and others that were off the mark. Kind of like when my aunt did a tarot card reading for me and indicated I have a passion for law and justice. I'd just gotten out of a 5 1/2 year relationship with a law student. Of all the things I had passion for, they had nothing to do with anything related to a bar exam.

But I digress.

Whenever I take any of these, I read up on the primary characteristics but also the ones that came in a close second. A combination of the two tends to hit the mark. But in my "dominate profile pattern" I am described as the following:

"Objective and analytical, Investigators are dispassionate "anchors of reality".

Hmmm... I'm the girl who throws the occasional hissy fit on her boss because her boss is doing nothing but bending to the wishes of her own boss. I'm the girl who closes her office door to bawl because she's convinced everybody hates her, without any solid evidence either way.

"Investigators are not especially interested in pleasing people, and they prefer to work alone. They can be perceived as cold, blunt and tactless."

Hmmm... As much as I drive myself crazy for this trait, I care SO much about what other people think and wanting them to be happy. Granted, I do prefer to work alone, and I likely have become a bit more cold and blunt, but only out of necessity. Turns out the Bill Lumbergh/Michael Scott rules of discipline in management actually don't work.

Again, some of the stuff was really right on, but, as with everything out, it's the negatives that tend to stick out.

Still, I learned a lot today. In the past couple of months I've been trying to fully apply the knowledge that I'll never be happy in the workplace waiting for everyone to "be like me". Perhaps I need to make some personal adjustments for the greater good. Also, I need to realize I am an influencer and I could be much more proactive in making my office a more positive and supportive place for those who work around me. Because I'm the same age as, or even much younger than, many of the people I supervise, I've taken my role as a leader for granted, assuming leadership was not necessarily expected of me. I'm realizing nothing could be further from the truth, and I need to take more responsibility as a mentor and a guider than I have been. After all, I've been blessed, in all four of my professional experiences, to work with at least one person who has an absurd amount of faith in me, and who has taken a special interest in me. Ashley. Sara & Pat. Judy. Sharon. I'm incredibly lucky in that respect, and these people have a great deal to do with the success I have acheived. It's time to pay that back. Realizing that, alone, is worth the cost of admission this week.

On making chicken interesting...

I have a rule in restaurants. I don't order chicken. Why? Because even I can make chicken, and it's rare when any restaurant can make chicken in a manner interesting enough to sway me otherwise.

I ordered chicken tonight. Why? Because I'm in Austin and convinced myself that chicken stuffed with some sort of delicious soft cheese was healthier for me than the steak option on the menu that I really wanted. It was fantastic. So, next time you're wandering Sixth Street in Austin, stop by the Old Pecan Street Cafe and have the Chicken Poppicotti. Even if you have a rule against chicken, it's fun enough to say to sway you otherwise.

Ha. But that's not even the point of this blog. RED HERRING!

The great thing about this week is it gives me an opportunity to reconnect with old friends and colleagues and expense the experience to my school. It doesn't get much better than that. Tonight, I met up with a dear friend/former colleague and an old boss of mine. In fact, this old boss is the reason for my relocation down to DC, which has resulted in some of the most rewarding (albeit challenging) professional moments, and most unexpected and wonderful personal moments of my life. So, thanks for hiring me for that horribly crappy job, Judy. Because of you, I'm more accomplished professionally and happier in matters of the heart than I have ever been.

But I digress.

While dining out this evening, my dear friend told us the most bizarre story.. I simply can't deprive you of it. My dear friend, who has become a regular at a country bar in town that offers line dancing, was finally confronted by the creepy old guy who stalks her every time she shows up for dancing. The two times I've gone to said establishment with her, I've been tempted to throw down on this old man for harassing my friend. He stalks her, asking her to dance, asking me to dance, and staring at the table as we get caught up. She has obliged him for the most part, but also learned the art of the gentle turn down after she's already danced 10 of 12 routines with him.

So this guy, let's call him Marley, hands my friend a letter recently when she shows up to dance. Keep in mind, while he's offered to buy her things such as new boots for dancing and an occasional meal, my friend has always said no and never done anything to encourage an advance. Nevertheless, the letter explained it was high time they define their relationship, getting everything down on paper in case of a future separation, so they could keep their personal property, but understanding he would be "most generous" in any sort of settlement. He also indicated he'd prefer they have 2-3 children. Now, not only is this guy OLD, he is also not so steady on his feet. I can't imagine (gag gag gag) he's still getting the job done in the sack. He also indicated his preference to live in Maryland given Virginia's unreasonable tax and driving laws.

She politely dances with the guy twice a week, in addition to other men at the club, and, um, yeah, has a boyfriend.. her age.

It was always obvious Marley fancied my friend, but always from afar and never did I suspect he would make any sort of advance. But did he ever. And almost took the one thing my friend LOVES to do away from her - line dancing at this bar twice a week. But she prevailed and confronted him the next week, indicating he's never been more to her than an occasional dance partner, that he's not allowed to ask her to dance again, nor can he speak to her. Clearly, she had to be direct and to the point.

The price you pay for being lovely and kind, I guess.

Clearly, Marley is a bit off of his rocker. To have devised this entire plan in his mind with NO substance whatsoever. Or, who knows, perhaps he is playing by some very dated rules of courtship. I am assured, however, that he has since discovered some other young things to dance with now that her rules are set. Let's hope they uncover his intentions early on, before he discovers some bizarre Virginia law stating if a lady dances with a man more than 3 times on the same occasion, they are legally bound by marriage.

And he wants to live in Maryland. Silly Marley.

On counting on karma

It has been the longest travel day. And I’ve yet to reach my final destination.

I write this from Gate A29 at the Dallas – Ft. Worth Airport, enduring another minor, but nonetheless disheartening flight delay.

I am officially a spoiled business traveler. I have become so accustomed to direct, non-stop flights. I’ve been dreading the travel days of this work trip to Austin for a while now. I couldn’t stand the thought of a connection. But, it appears the only direct flights to Austin originate in Dallas, so there’s not much I can do about it.

Of course, what started the day on the completely wrong foot was my decision to take the SuperShuttle instead of drive. I had it in my head that the SuperShuttle would be cheaper, but apparently not from Alexandria to BWI. Round trip, with tip, will cost over $100. Daily parking? $8. Sure, there would be gas and mileage but still. Grr. And, of course, since it’s the Super Shuttle, they insist on picking you up roughly 2 hours before you could possibly need to be there. Yes, I get that it’s a shared van and you have to pick others up, but 11:15 to leave for a 3:15 flight? I don’t think so.

And, of course, I remembered my pick up time as 11-11:15. Turns out it was actually 11:15-11:30, which meant an 11:45 pick up. So while I sat outside my building for 45 minutes, I indulged in major OCD Blackberry organization. Awesome. I’m trying not to think about how many more games I could have played on the Wii in that time.

I was dropped off at the airport around 12:45, 2 ½ hours before my flight was scheduled to take off. No worries, I thought, I’ll enjoy a long leisurely lunch. Except, well, there really wasn’t anywhere to take a long leisurely lunch. Instead, it was Potbelly for me after the 90 seconds it took me to get through security. Here’s a travel tip: leave early afternoon on Mondays to go anywhere.

The only crowded section in the Baltimore area was the space between Potbelly and Wendy’s. Let’s first applaud my successful navigation of my food options. Wendy’s looked REALLY good. Anyway, there was no where to sit so I was still forced to act as if I was rushing through my meal by trudging back to my gate and eating there. Grrr.. Then started the flight delays. 15 minutes. Then another 15. Then 5. We still got here on time but when I already had WAY too much time to kill in Terminal C, the minutes went on forever.

Once we finally boarded, I was ecstatic. I had spent 4 hours essentially going no where but still traveling. It was incredibly frustrating. As I made my way to my aisle seat on the two seater side of the plane, I was greeted by the hopeful eyes of a young boy, maybe around 11 years old. I put my purse down as I sought out a place to put my carry on bag… three rows behind my seat.

“Um, excuse me.”

I looked down at the boy who resembled a Make A Wish kid with his too small head covered by an oversized baseball hat and no particular haircut to speak of.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind switching seats with my little brother so we can sit together?” He pointed to my left. There sandwiched between two grown men in the middle seat was an even tinier Make A Wish looking boy. Someone needs to call this mother and tell her to feed her kids.

The little brother smiled eagerly.

I took a deep breath. “Sure.”

“OH WOW! Thank you so much!” For such a young boy at least he realized the type of sacrifice to which I had agreed. If he didn’t, the conversations of the men around the seats would have tipped them off.

“Wow, I’m a nice guy and all but this is a three hour flight. Nice work, boys!”

Yes, I was the talk of rows 19-22.

As I took my seat, I noticed the gentleman to the left of me had a Muscle Fitness magazine and a tin of chewing tobacco. As I was reminded at the Maryland Renaissance Festival this weekend, it is amazing how truly undateable most people are.

Still, I’m proud of myself as the time flew while I did a bunch of work. We landed in Dallas and I somewhat successfully navigated the food court here, skipping McDonald’s and a failure bowl at KFC for Chinese food that will likely have me vomiting in the bathroom of my hotel room later tonight. That is, if I ever make it to Austin.

So now I sit in A29, looking around me and wondering how many of these people are bound for my same conference, always marketed as “the largest gathering of college admissions and high school counseling professionals in the country!” (Hell, I don’t even care, why should you?) To my right is an iPod vending machine and directly in front of me a beautifully lit Dunkin Donuts teases me. There’s nothing worse than having one available when it’s just not coffee or breakfast sandwich time.

The battery on my laptop is failing.. See you in Austin!

Ok, I'm here! And, as I was promised, Austin is officially weird. But I think we're going to get along just fine.

First off, my cabbie. A female. We hit it off grandly and I didn't even find myself remotely upset when she dropped me off at the wrong hotel. At least I figured out what she was doing before I got out of the car. I also had this bizarre sense she was going to take me to the wrong place. Anyway, we had a lovely chat, no harm done, and I'm pretty sure I tipped her extra. Why? Cuz I'm exhausted and it made sense at the time.

Upon check-in I was greeted warmly and without any level of stuffiness. It was down to earth, what can we do for ya type charm. It was exactly what I needed. Upon realizing there were no king rooms left, and upon seeing they are stuck with me as a guest for 7 nights, the fabulous Katie hooked me up with a room with two double beds, sure, but one that also looks straight at the capitol building. It's pretty spectacular all lit up. She also gave me tons of maps, coupons and tips to give me plenty of material for my time here. Very cool.

From what I could see of the warehouse district on the way in, I can already tell why it's so popular with the younger crowd. The place is crawling with restaurants and bars and clubs, none of which look like the type of place where flip flops or a budget minded person would be turned away, but all with plenty of charm. I hope to be able to explore!

I'm also just grateful to have arrived one piece, for what should be a good week professionally and personally, that is, if my Make A Wish karma kicks in.

On my girliest blog ever...

2007 has rocked my world in many respects...

1) Terrifying/Maddening pseudo promotion at work - at the end of the day it looks KILLER on the resume

2) Moving in with my boyfriend

3) Getting a car - yes, despite the BS of two weeks ago

4) Finally teaching my hair it does not have to be washed every day! I'm serious. This has been life altering. You have no idea. And, yes, that's the entire point of this blog. Goodbye.

On needing a bigger boat...

If you'll turn back a few pages in your hymnals, class, you'll be reminded there are two life lessons I will always hear my mother saying to me as I navigate this crazy thing called life.

What you're feeling is only temporary. (Don't worry, this was only used when I was upset about something)

and

Don't burn bridges.

It was a tough day at work. I had two meetings with people who people in my office burned bridges with many many years ago. Or, as my dad likes to put it, "When Christ was still a cowboy." Who was truly the unreasonable participant in the my group vs. their group Sharks vs. Jets showdown is still unknown to me but, today, despite different players and different scenery, the war rages on.

So exactly what AM I supposed to do in this situation?

I can tell you, in crazy scary meeting number 1, that I did my best. I really did. I could not have come in more prepared or more articulate. I can't help that the M.O. of the gathering had more to do with "the others" taking me on in a 3 vs. 1 Mario Party showdown. And I can't help that despite my fearless leader's borderline humiliating attempts at peacemaking that nothing really seems to be getting all that better.

In scary meeting number 2, I was a bit more of a loose cannon. Why? Because I was tired, I had already been kicked around by many of the same players that day, and, well, this group doesn't have the same scary titles to allow them to be as ridiculous without any repercussions. Still, I know I could have behaved better. I know I have improved in light of the constantly angry Celtic Not appearing at meetings a month or two earlier, but I still could have taken a couple of more deep breathes, and even bitten my tongue at times.

At the same time, I don't want to be the type of leader who sits quietly through silliness. I know that's been a complaint of mine with my fearless leader at times. It's infuriating not to be backed up.

So, I know I didn't burn any bridges today, but I didn't necessarily mend any either. Still, it's exhausting to be a peacemaker and if that's what this job requires, I'm going to need a hell of a lot more caffeine.

On loyalty to those who get it..

I realize I've already blogged about Starbucks recently, but after an experience this morning I'm inclined to do it again. Hey, I've had about $70 in Starbucks cards to burn in the past 6 weeks so I guess a couple of stories here and there is to be expected.

I was burning the last fuel on my last Starbucks card this morning. As a waited for my drink, and by waited I mean about 90 seconds, all of the drinks that were ordered after I placed my own order were prepared and in the hands of their owners. I was in no rush, I knew they'd get to me, not a problem. The young woman who seems to be there every morning looked at me and asked what I was waiting for, only to realize it was never called. "I'm so sorry! I'll get it for you right away!" Again, I wasn't stressed about it. I had waited no time at all.

As she waited for my savory beverage to reach it's appropriate temperature, she gave me a coupon for a free coffee drink of my choice the next time I come in.

I realize we pay a premium price at Starbucks, and we do so, primarily, for the experience it affords us. I also realize that sliding me a free coffee drink doesn't really cost them a damn thing. Still, it's the practice of such a policy and the appreciation for customer time and expectations that you don't find in too many places anymore.

So, once more, I tip my hat to Starbucks for their continued customer service. Even though you're paying out the nose for product, at least you can usually be assured you'll be treated with courtesy and respect.

On the end of an era

Growing up, I was a die hard New England Patriots fan. Particularly in middle and high school, I lived for Sundays in the fall. Pats games were a family event... food, friends and fiery cheering for our favorite team. We even made something called the Tuna Trophy in honor of Bill Parcells. Looking back, it's one of my favorite memories from my adolescence.

My love for the Pats has been waning over the past few years. Leaving New England certainly didn't help, but ever since they entered dynasty mode, they've just become less interesting. I've been warned by Yankees fans that this is what happens when your team starts to dominate, but I refuse to believe it could ever happen to me with my Red Sox. Then again, that would mean they would have to become a dynasty and well, that's not going to happen. It's too hard in baseball and, well, they're still the Red Sox.

The team has simply become unrecognizable to me. Long gone are the players I loved to follow (Ben Coates, Drew Bledsoe) and while many of my old boys were replaced by stronger and better athletes, they never captured my loyalty. I did, however, always respect Coach Belichick. Always.

Until now.

I am officially done with the Patriots. This whole recording scandal is enough to make me sick. I can't think of a more elaborate "Bully on the playground" scenario. To have come so far as an organization only to have it blown in one absurd incident, I'm left in awe as to how dumb smart people can actually be.

When I first heard about the allegations I actually thought to myself. "Wow. What a Yankee move." That, of course, is completely wrong. The Yankees may have the highest payroll in the league, but, for the most part, they have a lot of class as an organization (so what if their fans do not.) I'm appalled as a sports fan and betrayed as a Pats fan.

Most of all, however, I'm mourning that I may be forced to become, GULP, a Ravens fan. No, I can't do it. I'll have to shop for a new team just the same. My one rule? AFC FOREVER!

On things that would make me feel better...

I just need to know that there are days when women like Conde Rice and Oprah Winfrey close their office doors to have a 5 minute crying fit. If I can be assured of that, I would feel like a much more competent leader. Otherwise, I'm just another chick with a title.

If anyone can confirm the reality of this scenario for me, I would appreciate it.

On the kindness of strangers...

I woke up this morning and realized what day it was. I hugged my boyfriend a little tighter as he left for work.

I don't mean to imply that I'm completely distracted today, or that 9/11 feels as raw now as it did a few years ago, but it's still an anniversary that stirs a lot of emotion in me. I certainly revisit my memories of the day, frantically trying to reach my friends in DC, friend who were colleagues just two weeks earlier, my family frantically trying to reach me in Boston, and our office frantically trying to reach the staff we had out recruiting in DC and New York. Like all of us, it's obviously a day I'll never forget.

I am constantly appreciative of my scenic commute to work every day. As I pass Crystal City I see the US Capitol in the distance to my right, the Smithsonian and the Washington Monument. Just before the scenery changes to the Key Bridge, Georgetown and the National Cathedral, I swing around two sides of the Pentagon.

And that's when I started to cry.

I wasn't bawling. I just felt my eyes well up. I saw flags at half-staff and couldn't stop a slow but steady stream of tears. Every once in a while it occurs to me that people were driving THIS route as the plane crashed into the Pentagon. Can you even imagine?

So the tears just kept coming. I was stopped in traffic on Key Bridge as I wiped them away, but could feel the eyes of the person in the car next to me on me. Again, I wasn't hyperventalating or anything, but it was clear I was crying. I composed myself and looked around, finally making eye contact with the person next to me. He just smiled. He may have just been friendly, perhaps he didn't know I was crying, perhaps he's a scumbag trying to pick up women in traffic, but I choose to believe he knew that I was crying, he knew why, and he just wanted to say it was ok.

I really appreciated that.

Only about 45 seconds in...

Oh yes. I'm tuning into see if Britney's still got it. She's opening the MTV Video Music Awards tonight, in case you've been trapped under something heavy for the past week.

Sure, she's not in the shape she once was, but the saddest part is her confidence is SHOT. It's not there. And that's what makes this performance unremarkable.. and painful to watch.

I see your Jean Grey and raise you a Spidergirl

I made my first comic book convention appearance today. I was there to support my boyfriend who collaborates with a friend of his on Fake McCoy comics (http://www.fakemccoy.com/). Normally I'd say something like "I attended my first comic book convention" today, but given the general response of participants and attendees as I walked around, I'm categorizing it differently. It's a rare day when I can say I was the best looking woman at a convention, but so it was on this sunny September day and I'll revel in it for at least a week. Maybe two.

I was certainly a fish out of water in many respects at the event, but I found it nonetheless fascinating. In particular it was amazing to consider just how much undiscovered talent there is out there in the art world. Since I was trying not to play up my "I have no idea what I'm looking at" reality, I had to stick to looking at the art on display from different comics, as opposed to taking in any of the writing. Still, that alone was impressive. Whether the image was the artist's own or a trace of the more familiar, the talent was just awesome. And it's always interesting to take a peek into a new world. Comic books are clearly a religion to many, and a fascination I will never understand but, after today, can certainly respect more.

As I walked out a very pretty blond woman was on her way in. She nodded at me and smiled and I pretended it was because I was passing a token torch to her. Then again, she was wearing a Wonder Woman t-shirt. I'm not sure if that will give her street cred or get her kicked out of the building. I kind of wish I'd hung around to find out.

On hazing

I am officially a car owner now.

I'm quite certain I started a blog in June in a similar manner but, no, I really mean it now.

In the last week, I have brought my car in for an oil change, innocently brought it to a dealership to have a recall issue addressed, received a phone call that indicated they would do the recall work for free but here are the other $600 in repairs you need to do right away (that's with the warranty - it would have been closer to $900 without it), called my father in a panic to make sure I was not being taken advantage of, picked up the car only to have the original problem that I thought to be a symptom of the recall not addressed, called my dad to vent about it, dropped it off again for it to be addressed, received a phone call telling me I'm taking crazy pills and there is no noise, called my dad to make sure that yes I was being taken advantage of, marched back to the dealership, male presence by my side, only for them to suddenly hear the noise and realize it was easily fixed by a quick realignment of the hood, walked out of the dealership uncharged for the day of "service" and full of zip.

The best part was having the guy who finally heard the noise say, "Sorry, we've been really short staffed today and have been rushing through jobs." Awesome. I was already not planning to see this place ever again after the guy who called to inform me there was no noise mentioned, "Yah, I even drove behind the technician testing your car, and I couldn't hear anything either." Wow. Yah. That's really saying something.

So, yes, I'm $600 poorer and it's now suddenly a tight month and less than 10 days in. I must say, however, that I was simply amazed by how depressed this entire situation made me. To have my car taken away for a few days was awful. I am so spoiled now. Thankfully, my boyfriend was nice enough to lend me his car for two of the days and hitch rides to work from friends. Still, it was awful to inconvenience him and, well, to not have my Grover. The third day, yesterday, I was without my car again and (GULP) rode the Metro. I cannot tell you how irritated I was to have to ride the Metro after months of freedom away from it. Since my move, it's just THAT much longer of a ride and involves 2 transfers. I wanted my "takes 1/2 the time as Metro" car commute, I wanted my Jack Diamond morning show, and I wanted my independence back. Now.

I will say that I felt like a complete rookie on the Metro again. I've been a regular user of public transportation for most of my post-college life, but 3 months away and it was like I didn't know how to function. I was weirded out again by people I had gotten used to, I couldn't remember the direction I was supposed to take for my first transfer, and it took me a moment too long to realize my bag wasn't entitled to the seat next to me. How soon we forget.

And all of the Metro annoyances were in full effect. If it's not groups of tourists, it's masses of really loud kids who have just gotten out of school. And don't get me started on the phantom yellow line train to Huntington that will suddenly appear out of nowhere amidst 5 green line trains to Branch Avenue. Oh, and the best part, was I "just missed" the shuttle to campus once I got off the Metro, allowing for that awkward "maybe he'll see me and stop" run, to no avail. That FORCED me to go to Starbucks to get a coffee while I waited for the next. And out another $4.37 on top of the $600.

But the whole process brought out the nasty cynic in me and that, I guess, is what was really upsetting. I hated that I couldn't trust the dealership. I was aware of this going in, don't get me wrong, but it was difficult for it to finally happen to me. I hated feeling like I was communicating with someone who was laughing at me on the other end of the phone. I hated that I didn't understand my warranty to the level I should, I hated that I couldn't find the time to do some simply comparison service charge shopping, and, of course, I started to question my whole car buying process - did I make a huge mistake, did I not do enough research, etc. I did, by the way, write a strongly worded letter to CarMax explaining that after 3 months of ownership and their "125 point inspection", I knew for a fact that at least one of the three issues was one they were aware of (more likely two) and that I was supremely disappointed by that reality. We'll see what comes of that, if anything.

The good news is all is well again (knock on wood) and yesterday didn't cost me a dime and my next major service should be a lot cheaper given what I had done this week. Still, I understand now just what slaves we all become to our cars and how they are so very hard to give up despite our mistreatment as owners, even after only a short while. But the true success for me, in all honestly, was being validated this last time around and not charged for it. Nothing like emerging victorious in a room full of people who thought you were completely nuts. As absurd as it sounds, it was David v. Goliath moment for me, and coming out on top was just the way to end the week.

On being a lightweight...

It's 5:20 am on Labor Day and I'm curled up on my couch, grateful to TBS for airing Dawson's Creek at this ungodly hour. I'm fully aware I actually have the day off. Nevertheless, I've been up since 3:30.

The problem is, in my revelry of realizing I had a long weekend, last night at dinner I decided to bust out the wine. As such, I awoke at 3:30 completely dehydrated and incapable of getting back to sleep. I'm devastated, as I had hoped too much wine was the key to me sleeping past 9 am. Sigh.

I rarely drink anymore, and it's something that actually pleases me. I just don't need it, and enjoy that it's an occasional treat, but overall I'll take a Coke Zero any day with any meal. I realize this makes me less sophisticated, particularly to my friends and former roommates for whom wine was a daily event, but I'm ok with that. I've long grown out of the phase of considering it a required component of fun (actually I NEVER experienced that stage of life) and, in all frankness, I have too weak a stomach to enjoy indulging in it. In fact, I recently botched a good friend's visit to town by mistakenly trying to keep up with his margarita intake. I can't say we got caught up on too much as I got sick in the bathroom of the bar. Classy, no?

So, alas, I'm punished for indulgence once more, and hopeful that the sleep gods will smile upon me before the sun rises. There is really nothing worse than being robbed of holiday weekend slumber.

Where everybody knows your name..

It's September. The weather has been uncharacteristically glorious here in the DC area this weekend, but September means one thing - fall. And fall means one thing - I miss New England.

One of the benefits of living in DC is that you have a spectacular spring and nothing resembling the winters I grew up with. I often wonder if I could possibly survive them anymore. Still, nothing beats the crispness of a New England fall. Football weather. Leaves turning. Hot apple cider. Fleece vests over sweaters from LL Bean.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that the Sox are still in contention(albeit on one leg) in the playoff run. Nothing like Sox playoff baseball to have me longing for Beantown. Check back with me in December when it's 49 degrees here and a blizzard back home and the Yankees have another championship.

Deux jours a Paris

With the complete disregard for standards that characterized much of this weekend's big studio offerings, I was pleased to turn my attention, once more, to those films lending themselves to the smaller, pseudo-independent genres. IE: those which would not be placed next door to a theater showing Rob Zombie's Halloween.

The first of my weekend movie endeavors landed us at the AMC Shirlington to see Julie Delpy's Two Days in Paris. There were a few things that appealed to me about this movie: 1) Julie Delpy. I'm a fan of hers from the Before Sunrise/Before Sunset series, and how everything from her beauty to her accent grow on you as you watch her. She was also the best part of The Three Musketeers (yes, the one where we were forced to believe Oliver Platt got play on a regular basis). Not saying much, I know, but I was intrigued to see what she brought to the table as a writer, director AND actor. 2) Adam Goldberg. Typically cast to very similar supporting "genuinely awkward, a bit anxious, crazy Jewish guy" roles (he doesn't depart TOO much from that here), he is nonetheless a lot of fun to watch. I very much wanted to see him in a starring role, rather than just a highlight in the supporting cast. 3) It was filmed in Paris. At the very least, I could longingly sigh at the backdrop for the 96 minutes of the film.

2 Days examines a couple's pit stop in Paris, Marion's (Delpy) hometown, as they return from a vacation in Venice, on their way home to New York City. As an initial gripe, many of the introductions to reviews of the film discuss the vacation as an attempt to save their relationship. This, however, is never admitted to by the characters themselves. The only hint of trouble in the opening scenes is watching the couple sleep on an overnight train as Marion narrates, "It's been two years. We're officially a couple." The delivery is deadpan but seemed to simply imply a way of life, though upon deeper reflection perhaps she is describing a "sentence". Nevertheless, while it's a fair conclusion to draw at the end of the film, describing it as such in summaries seems a bit deceptive, particularly as the couple actually discovers and unravels their incompatibility through their time in Paris.

The 2 days are comprised of catching up with Marion's friends (and former lovers), stomaching a dinner of rabbit, seeing Jim Morrison's grave and sleeping in the apartment directly above Marion's parents' house. Marion's unstable mother, a former hippie/revolutionary/Jim Morrison bedroom partner, and her father, a bit Grumpy Old Men meets Boogie Nights pervert, provide a tremendous amount of comic relief in the film and are portrayed brilliantly by Delpy's own parents. I'm not certain if they are actors in reality, but they add to the greatest strength this kind of movie offers. In this fly on the wall format, as the viewer, you are simply overhearing their conversation at a party, or you are standing under their window as they bicker. You truly forget you are watching a movie and that people are acting. The acting in this film is that good.

Further, Delpy shows great potential in her role as a director and writer, but I couldn't help but be distracted by how much she seemed to "borrow" from Richard Linklater, the creator of the "Before.." movies in which she starred. 2 Days is, much like Sunrise/Sunset, essentially a 96 minute conversation. The difference is the dialogue takes place beyond the two central characters, but, like the series, the film isn't so much about plot progress as being an unseen observer. It felt like a bit of a rip-off.

Unlike Linklater's characters however, it becomes clear early on that Goldberg and Delpy are an ill-suited couple. Their lack of compatibility is brought to the forefront as Jack (Goldberg), who doesn't speak French, interacts with Marion's unconventional parents and art world friends, not to mention Parisian cabbies. We also learn early on that Marion has always been known as being "stuck" in her own world since childhood. Her behavior throughout the film demonstrates she's yet to grow out of that, and leaves Jack struggling to understand.

As my movie partner in crime cleverly observed, one fascinating component of the movie, and another support for the incompatibility of the characters, is its use of narration and perspective. Marion narrates, but we view much of the experience through Jack's lens. As I think more about this, I've concluded that the reason for this is Jack's perspective needs no clarification. He is true to himself, perhaps to a fault, throughout every interaction he has. Marion deceives many at various points of the film, and it is only through her narration that we can trust any of what she has to say. The narrator, thus, is the truth that Marion struggles to confront in much of her relationship with Jack. Further, though we can trust Jack more as a character, we know the least about him, even his occupation, lending further credibility the accusation he places on Marion towards the end of the film, "You don't really know me at all" and adding weight to her own selfishness.

Despite being only an hour and a half in length, the movie started to feel long. Perhaps because much of it is, in fact, the realization that these two people probably should not be together. As any of us who have had those agonizing conversations with an ex (at least I hope they're now your ex) can attest, it's incredibly difficult to experience the same for two people for which you are not rooting. Further, Delpy's character becomes less likable throughout, and since she is accountable for at least 50% of what is going on on-screen, time is not on the side of the viewer. I must confess, however, that even though it made parts of the movie incredibly uncomfortable, I respect Delpy for making her character "the bad guy" in the relationship. While both players are clearly flawed, it becomes apparent that Delpy is a bit too selfish, a bit too insensitive and a bit too, well, in her own world. She makes much of the story about her, and Jack simply a pawn in her world. Again, she tells us little about him and he does not volunteer it. While it would have been very easy for her to paint Jack as the disrespectful "stranger in a strange land" unable to overcome his own discomfort for the sake of his lover, that's simply not the case. He struggles, certainly, but trudges along for much of the horribly awkward ride.

Though it's not a film I would watch again, there are good reasons to see 2 Days in Paris. For one, it's a great opportunity to see Goldberg knock a performance out of the park while resisting caricature. Secondly, the family scenes are priceless and nail everyday, conventional dysfunction. Finally, I need someone to explain the "fairy" to me. Intriguing, no? See it now, gripe later.