Last weekend in Boston

It's Sunday night, and for the first time in three and something years, I am not going to work tomorrow ... because I don't have a job to go to. It's odd really, being unemployed again. At least this time, I'm choosing to not go for something full time for seven months!! (Count them, three until baby, and then four until baby's old enough to handle a working mom. It's all good.)
So I had a particularly nice anniversary. There was a bouquet of lilies and a well-done love note waiting for me when I got home Friday, and we had dinner at Ruth's Chris for some yummy steaks that night. Point in favor for this Ruth's: steaks were just as delicious as any other Ruth's, and the cheesecake dessert was amazing. Point against it: our waiter kept referring to us as "Kids." "You kids need steak knives." "Are you kids done with the appetizers?" "How are you kids doing?" On the surface, it's not that big a deal, but, as Brian said, he was probably all of three years older than us; we were celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary; I'm pregnant with our baby; he can be called "Doctor" now; and we were not afraid to be spending the money to eat in this restaurant. Clearly, we were not the kids this guy thought we were. At any rate, we kept our rebuttals to ourselves, but on the receipt, I did note, "Thanks. From the 'Kids.'"
Yesterday, I got a lot more done than I thought I would, and spent most of my awake hours packing boxes and preparing for the movers on Tuesday.
Today, I had a lovely lunch with Sarah and Pamela downtown. I hate leaving friends, especially when they are across the country, but I know that I keep in really good contact with my friends, so I know that today will not be the last time that I see, speak to, or hug either of them. Besides, they tell me that they'll come out to visit.
Tomorrow, the last of the packing, and preparing for our big day on Tuesday. Whew. I can't believe that it's finally here. Can you? It seems like forever that I've been talking about this. And it's finally just a couple days away. Crazy!! Also tomorrow, Comcast is coming to retrieve the cable boxes and internet modem. So after that, I ... well, I guess I'll have to steal someone else's signal until we leave on Tuesday!!

A table for two, please

It's my last day at my job, and, well, I really feel kinda okay with it. I mean, I'll miss everyone dreadfully, I know that, but since I'm still doing work for the magazine for another few months, it doesn't really feel too much like a goodbye. However, that may change drastically later today when I really am ready to drive away. I hate leaving a good job. I've done it too many times (three, actually, now that I think about it), and it always throws me into such a tailspin.
Of course, I'm excited that we're heading off on a new adventure back in Arizona, but it gets so sad to leave a place that you've called home for three (ID) or four (Boston) years. I've got so much to do over the next few days that I'll have little opportunity to dwell on it, but I know that it'll hit me as we charge onto the highway Tuesday.
Today, also, is Brian's and my five-year wedding anniversary. We're hoping to get in to one of the nicer places in the area (wish us luck; Brian's just calling for reservations this morning). We've managed to hit the better/fancier restaurants for our anniversary since we moved out here, so I'm glad that we won't have to break tradition this year simply because we're moving. I really can't believe that it's been five years since the best weekend ever. Time certainly does fly!!
What else? Well, what else isn't going on? I packed more boxes last night; Brian took the car for a quick road-trip service yesterday; the last loads of laundry are done, so now we can pack for the trip; and all seems to be going along fine.
You may be wondering about the frequency of the blogging now that I won't have a desk or constant computer presence for a couple weeks. I'll try my best to keep you all updated as often as possible over the next couple days, and throughout the road trip. Who knows how much Internet access I'll get at the Super 8 and Comfort Inn, but let's hope that there may be some reliable Wi-Fi along the way. If not (fear not!), I'll still be journaling our day every day, and saving them for when I can post. You won't miss a single story, my friends!

Super stamps

I like nifty stamps. Mom always gets me the cool new ones, and I tend to save a sheet of the best for future generations to enjoy. ("What!? Postage was only 39 cents back then?!?") Mom knows that I tend to hold on to my favorites for the cards and letters I send, and put, say, the vegetable and old car stamps on the bills I have to mail. I do not believe that Bank of America deserves a pretty Disney stamp as well as the ridiculous car payment check.
But check these out: super hero stamps. I spy Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Aquaman, Batman and The Green Lantern. Supergirl, quite frankly, is a waste of a good idea, as is Plasticman, but whatever, they didn't ask for my input. (I'd LOVE to see the Wonder Twins with a stamp; "Wonder Twin powers; Activate!") And Hawkman isn't half as cool as the guy with wings in the X-Men.
At any rate, I foresee a sheet or two of these in my future, and moments spent agonizing over whether this particular note is worthy of a Superman stamp, or if I should just stick it with an eggplant.

She'll slay you

This is the cover of the first comic book in a series following the continuing adventures of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Some of you may know how much I loved that show, some of you may not, but all of you can now be told that, because of this series, I will begin reading comic books. I've never been a fan of comics, simply because they didn't seem that interesting to me, but just the fact that this Joss Whedon-penned continuation is soon-to-be available, I am questioning whether a subscription is available or if I need to brave a comic book store to find it.
Buffy was one of the best shows ever. It's one of only two television series for which I own the entire show on DVD (guilty pleasure, Roswell, is the other). Since it's gone off the air, I've missed it terribly. That this series will continue her adventures is such a treat! I can't wait to get my first issue! Unfortunately, it isn't yet available for pre-order, but rest assured, the day it is, I'll be plunking down my dollars for it!

And many more...

Today is Auntie Donna's birthday! Yay!

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Auntie Donna,
Happy Birthday to you!!

Here's a picture of Mom and Auntie Donna at Disneyland this year. Aren't they the cutest princesses ever? We had a great time on that trip. It's always a good thing when you get to go to one of your favorite places in the world with two of your favorite people in the world, don't you think?

He doesn't look 54

It's The Hoff's birthday today, my friends, and we celebrate with this game of Hoffer. (Seriously, check it out. Too much fun!) On this, his 54th birthday, David Hasselhoff is again being praised as a tremendous talent in this world.

So I'm a busy girl this week, what with catching up on box packing, finishing up here at the office, and getting in lunches with everyone over the next four days. Not to mention all the roadtrip preparations, car maintenance and all that. it suddenly occurred to me this morning that the movers will be arriving at my door in eight days, and that I still have quite a bit of work ahead of me, including the remnants of the kitchen, both bathrooms, and the last-minute stuff. It makes me want to hide for a while, but I simply don't have that kind of time!

The space shuttle Discovery landed safely this morning, which is a super good thing. I concern myself with that kind of thing way too much, but oh well, it's a passion. It was quite an amazing thing to watch, especially from the pilot's camera view, as it descended and made for landing. You know, the only time my Gramps and I took the day off to watch a space shuttle land at Edwards Air Force Base out in Cali, the weather ended up being so cloudy that it had to land in Florida, a mere 12 minutes later than expected in Cali. It was a great day, mainly because it was just Gramps and I, but it was a drag that I missed the landing. But you wait! Someday, even if I'm not sitting in the shuttle, I will be seeing one lift off in person!

All that was missing: Captain's hats

I think, instead of going through a long and detailed explanation of the wedding this weekend, I'll do something similar to my treatment of Megan's wedding, and give you a list of the things that I learned during my weekend in Rhode Island. But in prefacing the list, I'll tell you that it was a surreal couple days of mingling with the kind of people we knew existed, but had never met before: old family money, yacht and airplane owners, people who live in Europe half the year, and those whose weddings are written up in the Society page of The New York Times. We attended the rehearsal dinner on Friday night; the wedding and reception on Saturday; and the "Breakfast with the Aunties" on Sunday morning.

• If you buy a house in France, one upwards of $1.8 million, it will probably "come with" a butler and a chef. All the homes around there have them, and it's a perk to buying in that particular area. I wonder if I can get a butler with my apartment in Scottsdale. That's what, another couple hundred dollars a month, right?
• The J.Crew pastel, madras, seersucker outfits, and navy blazers with crests, are designed specifically for this crowd. I've never seen so many men wear so much pastel. Highlights include: a blue/white seersucker suit; faded multi-colored striped pants; a pink shirt coupled with a light green tie; the above-mentioned navy blazer; and a wide assortment of bow ties. The women were working it, too. Witness: red butterfly clips holding up a beehive hairdo; strapless outfits that were constantly being tugged up (a pet peeve of mine); and feathers adorning the hair.
• Homeowners/neighbors are generous with their guest rooms. We were invited to stay in one of the guest rooms of one guest whose father owns a home "around the corner." It was a welcome relief to not have to spend any money to stay overnight, and the house was better than a lot of other places we would have had to pay real cash for. (Actually, I was quite overwhelmed by this place. Gorgeous!!)
• Country club management doesn't like it when three drunk guys decide to putt the 18th green with sand-trap rakes.
• It's acceptable to not offer a selection of entrees for dinner. In a twist I'd never heard of, we were given the menu for the evening, and that was what we were served. Only the vegetarian at our table was able to venture off the chef's agenda.
• Really, really old homes on the water have toilets that smell like the ocean.
• A never-ending bar makes for happy wedding guests. There was no shortage of alcohol at any event we attended. (Not that I profited from it, but Brian had a great time.)
• When planning a weekend wedding, have at least one venue that is air conditioned. Perhaps this is the whiner inside me, but the whole weekend was dependent on a decent breeze and the grace of a cool evening. Even the country club was stifling throughout dinner.
• Don't make guests wait through a two-hour cocktail period before breaking out the main course of food. Two hours, actually, is an understatement for Friday and Saturday nights. More than that, really, but less than three hours.

I apologize that I don't have any photos to post up here to accompany my list of observations. We still don't know how to download pics from the digital camera, and my phone wasn't a discreet device to run around and snap images with. It's all good though, I have faith in your imaginations.

Is this Savannah?

So the weather outside is brutal, and should prove to be even worse as the weekend wears on. A heat wave, by Boston standards, is three consecutive days with temperatures above 90 degrees. (These people would never survive Arizona.) So we'll be having a heat wave with ridiculous humidity that will prove to me my undoing, I'm sure. And in the midst of this charming weather pattern, we'll be attending a party tonight and wedding tomorrow in Rhode Island, and I'd like to get some more packing done.
Next week is my last at work. I'm getting quite sad about having to say goodbye to everyone here, but the knowledge that I'll still be working with them for the next few months is easing my way. I hate leaving a job. I've been so lucky in that at every one of my jobs, I've met and worked with really good, nice and thoughtful people. Hardly a prick in the bunch ... well, maybe one or two ... but that's all seen in hindsight. My friends hosted a surprise going away party/baby shower for me yesterday at lunch, and I was overwhelmed by their generosity of spirit. It was so lovely!!

My thumbs look crusty

I've never been a girl who had a copious amount of skin pigmentation. I prefer to refer to my coloring as "porcelain complected." You all know this. Someone of such obvious Western European ancestry simply can not hold a tan as such, and because of that, I've gotten quite comfortable with the whiteness that is my skin. You all also know that sometimes, I rebel against said ancestry, and try to make myself a bit darker and less pasty by slathering on self-tanning lotion, or by laying in a tanning bed, or by actually biting the bullet and suffering through a real-life sun burn.
My rebellion took on a different strategy last night, as I dove into the wonder that is the Mystic Tan -- you know, that spray-on tan concoction that is better than a tanning bed, but still messes with your skin to make it darker than it is naturally. Brian accompanied me, of course, as I walked to the salon on Newbury Street to try out this new technology. I had to watch an introductory video, then sign away any rights to sue the establishment should anything go horribly wrong, and then I was led into the Mystic room. The inhalers, booties and eyewear that was so promoted in the video are not recommended here -- closing your eyes, holding your breath and just sticking with the barrier cream is the way of it. So I stripped down, put the cream on my hands and between my fingers and on my elbows and heels so the color doesn't pool, and artfully wrapped the paper shower cap atop my head. I stepped into the little room, closed the door, positioned myself properly over the metal plate, then pushed the green button, signifying my preparedness to get sprayed. Even though they all told me that the initial spray would be startling, I was hardly ready for it. It did startle me, making me whoosh out my breath, and thus made me breathe in the tanning spray when gasping for fresh oxygen. Fourteen seconds later, the spray stopped, and I spun around, preparing for the other side to be sprayed. It's initial spray startled me again, and this time, I could actually taste the mist as I re-inhaled. Having finished the spraying, I stepped out of the booth, waited about 30 seconds, toweled off the excess, and then redressed.
I think Brian was expecting an immediate Mediterranean tan, but I knew that it would take a few hours for the spray to go into effect. And yes, a few hours later, there was a bit more color to my skin. This morning, as I type, I am distracted by the color that pooled and intensified along my thumbs and forefinger in spite of the barrier cream, and the still slight smell of fake tan, even though I showered last night after the required four-hour minimum wait time.
But don't take this as a negative review of the Mystic Tan. I'll be going back, for certain, because I am happy with the nice, even shade of tan all over me today. (It should last for a week, I was told.) Now, I just know what to expect, and above all, that the spray tastes awful, so once I push the green button, I should just go to my "happy place," where the spray is, instead, Evian being spritzed on me by a pool boy, as I lay on a chaise in Maui.

[Editor's note: The picture above has nothing to do with today's post. It is of Mongolian wrestlers preparing to compete in some festival. I just liked their outfits.]

Two-night min., $136 per

In a series of events that is decidedly not "me," I've completely dropped the ball on this wedding that we're going to this weekend. It's located in South County, Rhode Island, a "quaint," "beach-front" area that seems to cater to the yacht and beach set -- a group that, financially, we can't be playing with this month.
How have I dropped the ball on this one? Well, we've got an event to attend on Friday night, and I have no idea what I'm going to wear. Maybe a skirt, or maybe pants. Who knows. I'll have to figure it out though, as we're going to have to leave for the party right from my work. Aside from that, Brian's decided that we should spend the night out there on Saturday, after the wedding, and I haven't been able to get us a room. Of course, this could be attributed to the fact that, well, it's summer in Rhode Island's hoity beach area, and I just started calling around for a room today. Everywhere has two- or three-night minimums, or they're just straight booked up. I'm at a bit of a loss, to tell you the truth.
It should be fun to see how this weekend ends up going down.

A scurvy good time

It's been a while since I've been so excited to see a movie. So excited, in fact, that Brian and I made the effort to hit the theater Friday night. This journey was foiled, of course, by the fact that so many other people wanted to see it, but we tried! So alas, we waited to check out Pirates on Saturday morning. The theater was still pretty crowded, but at least we got to sit in the regular, not up-front, seats, and didn't have too many noisy people around us.
And the movie, up front, met all our expectations. We giggled throughout, and enjoyed the campy humor and fun swashbuckling that was the essence of the film. My gripe? More than two hours, and no real climax to the movie. It was such an "and here's where the third one will start" ending that it left us both cold. Kind of "ridden hard and put away wet," if you know what I mean. No climax, my friends. Surely, it makes one more anxious for the third movie, simply because now we're DYING to find out what happens next, but I think we deserved better. So many major, huge, gaping loose ends are unfair, really. Maybe, had even one of them been tied up, I'd be a happier Pirates camper today. Argh.

"Savvy?"

I had a moment of dashed hopes this morning. One of my favorite magazines, Entertainment Weekly, had posted its review of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, and it was not complimentary. I make it a rule to not read the reviews of a movie until after I've seen it, but as I'm super excited about this one, I decided to bend the rule just this once. The reviewer, Lisa Schwarzbaum, was not kind, and within the first couple paragraphs, I knew that she had greatly disliked this particular film. But then part of her lead argument caught my attention enough to read through it again: she started off by commenting on how much she reviled the first Pirates movie, Curse of the Black Pearl. That, right there, instantly sunk her credibility as a movie reviewer for me. How can one have not loved the first Pirates movie? It captured everything that a good summer movie should have: one of the best lead character entrances ever; a couple good love stories (Will and Elizabeth, and Jack and the Pearl); clever dialog ("Not without my affects!"); and good action. That this particular reviewer gave the first movie a bad score, made her immediately "a person of obviously opposite interests."
I, for one, can not wait to see this movie. I'm hoping that Brian and I can catch it tomorrow, but if not, definitely on Sunday. There is no way that I'm going through my weekend without having seen this movie! Yay Jack!

Highway as far as we can see

Look upon my July avatar. Notice that she, and her dog, are quite comfortable in their campsite. This, of course, is to signify the cross-country road trip that Brian, Oliver and I will embark on at the end of this month.
While we won't be sleeping in a tent or cooking beans over an open fire, we will be roughing it by stopping at a series of Super 8 Motels (Ollie's good at sneaking in), feasting on Cracker Barrel take-out (chicken pot pie, anyone? Mom?), taking pictures of random stuff that interests us (barns, Jack in the Box, up-ended cars in a field), playing those games that only amuse when there's nothing to see but pavement and flat land (states and capitols? television show theme songs?), and listening to radio stations that feature agricultural updates and promote the American Idol winners and contestants (today, hog futures are rising, and here's the latest from Clay Aiken!). Ah yes, the beauty of the days-long road trip! I can't wait!!

Who doesn't love a good docking

The Discovery space shuttle successfully docked with the International Space Station earlier today, after two days of playing catch up, and then performing an end-over-end roll to video the craft's belly to ensure that there was no damage from the launch. Someday, I kid you not, I will be chilling in one of those chairs, streaking through the atmosphere and floating about in space. Really, I already have the jumpsuit (Thanks, Mom!), and even though my math and science skills may be a little short of what they require for such a trip, I think I'd make an excellent mission specialist. Being awed by the experience and posting to my blog every day during the trip would be my specialty, so I'm more than qualified. I get so jealous of the astronauts that are up there, and able to do all this cool stuff, that I'm absolutely transfixed to the space flight news every minute they're in orbit. It's just too cool to comprehend.
But back to things going on down here on Earth:
1.) Two state courts, in New York and Georgia, have allowed a gay marriage ban. Not cool.
2.) The Emmy nominations were announced this morning, and once again, voters in that joke of an election pool have failed to show any real departure from the same-old, same-old. From the list of no imagination, nominations include: The West Wing, Two and a Half Men, Martin Sheen, William Shatner, Charlie Sheen, Lisa Kudrow, Allison Janney, Debra Messing, Stockard Channing, Sean Hayes and Megan Mullally. As for pleasant surprises: 24, Arrested Development, Scrubs, The Office, The Colbert Report, Jean Smart, Steve Carrell, Jeremy Piven, and Jaime Pressly. I'd love to say that, as a show of protest for the nominators' lack of creativity, I won't watch the show, but ... well ... we all know me better than that.
3.) Auto news for the day includes the revelation that hand-cranked windows are on their way out of production, with Honda becoming the first car manufacturer to abolish them entirely. Soon will come the day when the youth of America ask us, "You mean you used to have to open these with a handle?"

Eating French food can be a dirty job, too

Goodness gracious, my kittens!
You've been so patient with me, and my taking so very long between posts over the holiday weekend. It's just, well, really, I felt like taking a holiday from the blog too, and I hope you all can appreciate that. It's a difficult thing, coming up with all that righteous indignation, clever phrases and such on a daily basis!
So what's the what. Well, I watched a bit of a show on Discovery Channel, called Dirty Jobs. This guy, Mike Rowe, goes around the country and spends a day or two, or three, doing all the dirty jobs that are performed under society's collective radar. Jobs such as crawfish fishing, sewer cleaning, pig farming and coal-dust sweeping are among the occupations he took on in the couple shows that I saw. While the idea behind the show is great, and the host is terrific, I found myself hiding my eyes more than watching the episode, since he tended to put himself and my gag reflex in real danger.
Cars, while a cute movie, is not the best Pixar film ever made. I couldn't really tell which of them I would consider my favorite, but Monsters, Inc., and Toy Story are among the best in the genre. Still, for any of you that are considering seeing it, it is worth the money. So go, and do yourself a favor: stay well into the credits. You'll thank me for telling you.
We had dinner at a fancy French restaurant on the Cape Saturday night, a place called Chillingsworth, and used a gift certificate we got for Christmas. The meal, prix fixe of course, was seven courses. Two things stand out in my mind from the dinner: the soup was amazing, and the lemon sorbet with basil tasted like how Bactine smells. Brian's lone yummy course was his scallop appetizer. Idea: A+; restaurant: C, at best.
I got all kinds of packing done, and feel as though, yes, it can be July, because I see the light at the end of our tunnel.
Huh. Well, as it is quite late on this Wednesday evening, and I'm hungry for a brownie, I'll sign off, and wish you all a belated Happy Fourth of July!