Weekend trip to the Jersey Shore (no not THAT one, a much classier one)

I took a drive up to the Jersey Shore this weekend. My Pop-Pop lives there and while where he lives is really quaint and nice and worlds away from the trainwreck that is the MTV show (it's ok...I watch it too), I will tell you that I went to the location they shoot the show at almost every single week in the summers when I was younger to see fireworks. I used to be scared sh*tless of fireworks, but I think that weekly "facing my fears" therapy I endured must have paid off because fireworks might be one of my top 5 favorite things. Like ever.

Ok, let's get this posting back on track....so up to the shore to see Pop-Pop. He went into the hospital last week and I was worried about him, so having no plans I couldn't get out of this past weekend, trekked up to see him. A big BOO to work for not letting me leave early like I had gotten approval to do (really, it was my temp assistant's fault....I cannot wait until her last day here) but a big HOORAY that there was only very light traffic in spots, and I finally found one friend home on a Friday night to take my call and keep me company on the drive. Thanks, J!

Pop-Pop came home from the hospital on Friday -- apparently just really dehydrated and in need of some rest. Sometimes I worry that he was always so good at taking care of my Gram but never remembered to take care of himself. And now that she's gone he still sometimes forgets to make sure to take care of himself. But he just raved about the wreath that I made him. I felt like I was a 4-year old with a finger painting up on the fridge for all to admire. Except I had taken down the faux-foliage fall thing that was already up on the front door (sorry bout that Mom!) and hung up my wreath and admired my work. I think mostly I just wanted to have a little piece of me there with Pop-Pop every day.

I had also brought my crafty-crafting supplies up with me thinking I might get some time to work on some other projects. I stayed up late on Saturday night making a really pretty wreath for my Godmother. She is a breast-cancer survivor and I had gotten some pink ribbon-printed fabrics to make a wreath for her to hang next month for Breast Cancer Awareness month.

That following morning, while I was still asleep, my mom got an email from her cousin with not-good news about my Godmother. She is back in the hospital after becoming very sick as a reaction to radiation she began last week; her cancer has returned and she has tumors in her brain and her spine.

So I am hoping my wreath makes its way to her or to her house waiting for her to be able to go home. So a little piece of me can be there with her letting her know she is in my thoughts and prayers. And sending some pretty pink fireworks her way too becuase, well you know how I feel about fireworks :)

And I hope you won't think me selfish to ask for those of you that come here and read my postings, if you might keep her in your thoughts and prayers. Every little bit helps, I think.

Ok, sorry for that bit of a somber Monday posting. Just weighing on my mind right now. I'll try and think of something especially hilarious for tomorrow's Tales from the Trenches. Good thing that well never seems to run dry of tragically comical stories :)

She's crafty...

...and she used to get around but now she is a grown up and actually does crafts. That pretty much sums up me over the last couple months. Inspired by reading (way too much of) The Grosgrain Garage, I have gotten into the habit of focusing my creative energies into some crafty projects outside the office. You know, since very few law firms are lauded for their creative crafty skills.

I started with making wreaths after getting inspired by a posting on that blog. This is one I made for my Pop Pop's house down the shore.



That isn't even one of my favorites (I really liked the Hokie wreath I made for L) but some of the other ones are little gifties for a few peeps who may read this and I don't want to spoil any sort of surprise.

And I love making them, but c'mon. How many wreaths can I make before I get wreathed out? If anyone has any wreath-specific requests, send em my way and I am sure I can accommodate you.

So I have been going back to her blog looking for some more craftspiration (yes I made that up, but the word totally fits) and lately she has been posting about embroidery. Like she is monogramming clothing and towels and things at her house. And then she posted something that she embroidered a monogram on. Anyone who knows me IRL (that's in real life, people) knows that if there is a spare bit of space on just about anything, I will usually find a way to slap a monogram on it. Or at the very least, an initial.

So all throughout this off-the-charts crazy day at work (I am actually on a conference call as I type this posting....helloooooooo multitasking!) all I can think of is "How the hell do I teach myself embroidery??? And how quickly can I monogram everything in my apartment???" Hopefully L isn't reading this and if she is....just kidding!!! I would never be able to monogram everything in the apartment. I am short, and some things are out of my reach :)

Office Observations -- why America is fat

Every month, my office holds a "monthly birthday party" to come together as a firm and celebrate everyone whose birthday is that month. These gatherings are complete with TWO kinds of cake and usually at least THREE kinds of ice cream. I rarely go because either (a) I am chained to my desk working on some project or (b) I owe someone a project and haven't finished it yet and don't want to run into them at the party.

Well today is the "September Birthdays Celebration" and even though I am actually on that list of honorees, I was not going to go up to the shindig. Mostly because of Reason A listed above but also because of Reason C - I don't feel like making mindless small talk with people I don't wanna talk to.

And I don't know why I just noticed it today - I am sure it happens every single month - but a staggering number of people from my floor (the tenth) have been pouring off the elevators with their HUGE bowls overflowing with cake and ice cream. No lie, most people get TWO BOWLS EACH. Because who needs the pressure of deciding between vanilla and chocolate cake??? Just get both. Unless you are on the bomb squad and have to pick which wire to cut, no one should be forced to make such challenging decisions.



Anywhoozle, so these office guys and gals are gorging themselves on cake and ice cream.

That they got from upstairs.

On the eleventh floor.

This sugar buffet was located up one flight of stairs.

Yet all these folks used the elevator.


I guess when you have a bowl in each hand, it's easier to press a button then open a door?

Back to School...Back to School...

To prove to Dad that I'm no fool! Sorry, I couldn't stop myself from the obvious "Billy Madison" reference. True story -- I actually know every word to that movie AND the dance that Billy does to "I'll Tumble 4 Ya" (don't ask me why or how I have this knowledge...and NO I will not do the dance for you, so please don't ask)

All of the back to school ads coupled with this past weekend-o-football have had me thinking back to my favorite school years. When going "back to school" was something I could not wait to do -- I remember I was so excited to get back to campus I felt like I could have literally started running down I-95.

So I am going to borrow a great idea for a posting from some other blogs I read--check out Desperately Seeking Seersucker and Sweet Southern Prep--and take my own little (visual) stroll down memory lane.

Tales from the Trenches Tuesday

Let’s head back to Baltimore for today's posting. For those that have only ever visited and never lived in Baltimore, you should know that it is really very BYOF – bring your own friends. They are not too receptive to outsiders and it is tough to meet people and make friends there. When people ask you “Where did you go to school?” they mean high school, not college.

So it was a pleasant surprise to find 2 guys we knew from undergrad not only living in our neighborhood but actually living on the very same block, literally across the street from us. It was great fun to have more people we knew in the city to hang out with and having a sort of shared history and the college common denominator helped too.

Eventually, something sparked between me and PL. It was super casual, G-rated and totally innocent. I mean we might as well have been in grade school. In hindsight it was probably more of a good friendship at the time that maybe one or both of us tried to turn into something else…just to try it on for size and see if it worked. And while it didn’t really work, it didn’t exactly not work either. So it just kind of lingered on for awhile. Fall turned into winter and there were a couple snow storms making travel off of our street pretty tricky. So having someone to hang out with right across the street from you…well that was just logistically advantageous.

PL had also recently gotten a super cute puppy. Like so adorable it hurt. And like 98% of other females out there, I am a sucker for a cute dog. So between the harsher winter climate, the convenience of him living across the street, and the added bonus of a lovable little pup, can you blame me for just letting it drag on a bit without really giving it too much thought or attention that I basically didn’t have anything that was attracting me to PL specifically? I hope not (and also thank you for overlooking the shallowness of my youth!)



One day, we were holed up in my house watching movies with the snow and frigid temps howling away outside. And he was so nice and thoughtful and respectful. Made popcorn, fetched drinks, and shared the blanket. And I found myself sort of annoyed by him and just missing the puppy.

It was then that I knew I had to end things with PL. Because Puppy Love should be that early infatuation you feel with someone you have just started seeing. Not seeing someone only because you like spending time with his puppy.

Am I all grown up? Or have I run out of time?

Labor Day unofficially signifies the end of summer and the start of football, school and all things Fall. I was kind of curious about the actual history behind it so I looked it up as I usually enjoy a good bit of history. Essentially , the first official federally recognized Labor Day has to do with President Cleveland rushing a national holiday through congress out of fear of further conflict after the deaths of union workers at the hands of the US Military during the Pullman Strike in 1894. Yeah, doesn't exactly make me want to eat a hot dog and light a sparkler either.

But this day is always supposed to be a working man's holiday, a day off from your day-to-day grind to relax and unwind a bit. I wish I was able to do either. I have had this nagging, growing unrest related to all things "work" lately. It's much different than my previous position where I just got exhausted even thinking about the work week ahead of me because I knew with unwavering certainty that it would be filled with running around, long days, late nights and constant pressure. Believe me, I am glad I am not faced with that each week.

Now it's more of a look ahead into....nothing. Nothing to excite me or motivate me. Nothing to set my sights on and set a plan in place to reach the goal. Just an expanse of basic humdrum everdays, with the occasional stressful proposal or asshole lawyer thrown in for good measure. And every Sunday night I have this thought over and over and over in my head as I try to get to sleep: this is not what I wanted to be when I grow up.

I know that is a thought shared by lots of other people out there. We find ourselves in jobs and careers you may have never even imagined doing. Never went to school and studied for. Life happens and sometimes you just sort of fall into things; that's certainly what happened to me.

When I was really little, I wanted to be a princess when I grew up. This was obviously before I knew you had to be born or marry into royalty, there wasn't a whole training program and application process.


Then I went through a phase where I wanted to be a paleontologist. I wish I could say I was making that up, but it's the honest to god truth. I have an obscene amount of dinosaur knowledge because I read countless books on the subject when I was around 10 or 11. Like encyclopedia-sized books. I am sure at some point I realized that wasn't going to work because a lifetime of khaki-colored outfits and limited ability to accessorize would probably drive me crazy. **Side note, while the movie "The Land Before Time" had nothing to do with my dinosaur infatuation and desire to be a paleontologist, I love, love, love that movie and dare you to watch it and not get choked up. I could watch it today with all of its sub-par animation and still cry like a baby like I haven't already seen the movie 1,653 times**

Later in life -- like way later, towards the middle of junior year of college -- I thought I wanted to work in higher education for the rest of my life as a univeristy administrator. There was something special to me about being on a college campus that made me want to work on them for the rest of my life, the familial feel that you got just being on the grounds of one drew me in and really seduced me. Then I spent a year after graduation actually working in the field as I studied for and took my GREs and applied and interviewed at schools noted for their Higher Ed Admin programs. And actually working in it made me question my desire to go back to school to learn how to do it.

So late in the game, I did my own sort of hail mary pass by applying to one school for its Film program. I thought if they accepted me without any portfolio of work from undergrad, it was a sign that it was what I was supposed to do. They did, so I said yes. Don't worry, I question my own decision making abilities too and so does anyone who has ever met me. But those two years I spent studying and learning and creating were some of the most exciting times in my life. My track of focus was writing and I spent two years telling stories and creating characters. I worked harder than I ever had at it, but knew I was good at it. And I was happy.

And that wasn't really a surprise to me because I had been writing and telling stories ever since I was very little. As early as second grade I was winning awards for my short stories (soooo.....between this admission and the paleontologist bit, I have pretty much admitted to being a HUGE childhood nerd, huh?) I excelled in my English classes and in any project where a creative eye and imaginative thinking was needed. Taking tests has always made me want to break out in hives. Oral presentations and lengthy papers? Easy peasy.

Writing and essentially telling stories is what I have always loved best. And just because I haven't made my profession in it, doesn't mean I should ever give it up. So what am I getting at with this LOOOONG winded Labor Day posting?

I wanted to say thanks to those of you who come here from time to time and read my little stories and musings. I know there are some that know me from "real life" but there are some I have never met and that is beyond cool to me. I hope that first and foremost I always manage to get a smile or laugh out of you, but second I hope I can make you think about something or show you a viewpoint that may be different from your own. I also hope that if you enjoy it that you keep coming back and maybe tell a friend. Because I know of so many people (famous and your average joe) that have been able to do the elusive and take something they love doing and turn it into something bigger. And for once I will go out on a limb and say "Why not me?" Only reason it can't happen is if I don't try.

So my Labor Day resolution (New Year's is overrated anyways) is that I am here on this little blog to keep writing and to keep trying. Because I don't feel like I have gone and completely grown up yet. I think there might just be some time left to try and be something that I wanted to be.

Tales from the Trenches Tuesday

Ok, sorry for being tardy to this party once again. Finally got home from vacation yesterday and feel like I have been running around ever since the wheels touched down on the tarmac.

I recently had a request for some Tales from the Trenches: the College Years, so I thought I would take that as a cue and recount one of my more infamous stories. (Yes, I do take requests!)

As has been mentioned in some earlier posts, I was in a sorority in college. That only meant you had more access or opportunities to meet boys; it doesn’t guarantee that you actually did. And as I also mention in an earlier posting, I was classified as being not that cute by some other girls in the sorority. Let’s just say that didn’t give me a whole lot of self confidence when it came to talking to boys in college.

Now, I never want to give you the impression that being in the sorority was an entirely bad thing, because it wasn’t. One of the perks of having a hundred “sisters” was that at these parties/events, it meant you had a whole mess of other girls to try and help set you up with or talk to guys, which happened to be the case when I met C.

I saw him at a party (sorry, I refuse to call them “mixers” like other schools do because at my school that word was reserved for the splash of soda/juice that went into our drinks) and told one of my sisters (we didn’t use that word either, but I’ll use it now) that I thought he was cute. We had an upcoming event called “Screw Your Sister” where girls in the house were supposed to set each other up with their dates. The “screw” kind of gives the wrong impression as you were really supposed to set the girl up with someone she thought was cute. Or maybe it's because you hoped if you were set up with a cute guy that the "screw" would come after the event? Huh, maybe that was it -- show's you how naive I was in college. Anyway, C agreed to go with me but then realized he would be out of town that weekend. Then as it would happen….no one bothered to then set me up with someone else in C’s place. I remember sitting in the house’s study the night of the event as everyone else got ready to leave thinking I actually did end up getting screwed after all.

C felt bad about not being able to go to the event, so I asked him to go to my sorority's formal a few weeks later. I mean he said yes once so, I thought there would be a good shot that he would say yes again. I am a real risk-taker that way.

We had an ok time at formal – I mean you get to put on a fancy dress and drink, so really how bad is it going to be? So we continued to hang out with each other somewhat regularly after the formal. But it was really….well, boring. I mean it was also college, so of course eventually every evening/activity came around to going out, drinking and hooking up. But talking to him was borderline painful. I kept waiting for him to come out of his shell. I didn’t realize that that’s just who he was, yhere was no shell to come out of.

Yet I KEPT hanging out with him. Eventually someone asked me why (as well they should) and I told them it was like this - if you hadn’t eaten in a really long time, and someone came up and handed you a cracker, you aren’t really in a position to bitch that it's a stale saltine and you were really in the mood for a triscuit or a wheat thin. Or one of those fancy snooty water crackers. You take the damn saltine and are just happy anyone offered you a cracker at all.
Tales from the Trenches is brought to you today by the letter C for Cracker. Because sometimes a stale, boring saltine is better than nothing at all.