I’m just saying.

Last night, I went to a very hip “fiesta” happy hour. It was at an ad agency – a client of ours. I put on a nice pair of slacks, great shoes, pretty tank. And it was a good hair day. I felt ready.

It was hot out. My feet were feeling a little sweaty in the great shoes as I walked the city streets to get there from the parking garage. But that’s okay.

Entering the offices, I made a nametag. Everyone had a nametag. Totally clashed with my top and it was a little too long so the sticky part kept sticking to my skin. But that’s okay.

At the reception desk, I asked for a Corona. And I looked around. Lots of young ‘uns here. Lots. Everyone was chatting it up, looking at ease and happy. It was happy hour, after all.

After uncomfortably looking around for someone – anyone – that I knew, I walked back into the office space.

Did I mention this is really beautiful space? It is.

So I’m looking around and I spot a friend. He doesn’t work here, but is the partner of someone who works here. Whew. A friendly face. And then, I found a couple others. Still, I felt a little awkward.

Somehow, I ended up in one of those circle conversations. You know what I mean – when 5 or so people are standing in a circle talking and the conversation moves this way and that?

It was at that moment that I looked to my right and realized that the 25 year old woman to my right who I’d been talking to must be 6 feet tall. And 125 pounds. With long blond hair and a twinkly smile. She was a knock out.

Hey, I’m not biased. I talk to tall gorgeous blonds. No problem. But then I looked to my left.

Another glamazon.

All of a sudden, I felt like Fiona.

Which is particular pitiful since I felt so pretty and put together less than an hour earlier.

I realized that the time I spent agonizing over what I was going to wear to this soirée was not a good spend. Because no one looks at the 40-somethings when they’re hanging with girls like this.

This is not to say that I think they’re better than me. I know I have some fine qualities and even that I look good for my age But on a first glance basis? If you don’t know what’s inside my head?

Sigh.

iMom

Today, I was printing out the photos that the camp posted online of my kids. As I was thumbtacking them onto the boys’ over-sized bulletin boards in their rooms, it occurred to me…

I’m an iMom.

I think it used to be called a Jack of all Trades, or Jill, if you prefer. But now, we do all those mom things…drive, pack, cuddle, comfort, prepare, nag (I meant to say remind), reprimand (hopefully not too often), love, love, love…

And now, with all the tech tools and online reporting from camp and enewsletters from school and such, it seems we have more to do than ever.

I don’t know if all the technology in our lives has given us more work as moms or if it has streamlined our lives. I think both, actually.

You think an iPhone can do a lot of things? Maybe it can.

But if you really want to get something done, use that iPhone and call an iMom.

I love new technology.

I was really excited to see Fighting Mad Mary’s site this morning. She put a really neat widget up – it’s My Celebrity Look Alikes – by My Heritage. Wow, she does look like Meg Ryan, Kate Hudson, and Fergie….

Of course, I was drawn in. Over the years, I’ve heard that I look like Jamie Lee Curtis, Jennifer Anniston, Carrie Fisher. So, what’d I have to lose?

Well, take a look at this. Either the technology is really flawed or I really need to do something to look a little more feminine. Yikes.

Okay, maybe it was just that photo. So I tried again with another one. Different results (who wouldn’t want to look like Holly Hunter!?) but still – two men!

Then, I tried Andrew’s photo. My favorite one had NO matches. Who could compare? I mean, seriously.

But then I tried again with a goofy new picture I took recently. Here goes:

It’s fun though, so give it a try if you’re so inclined!

Reading is fundamental.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure (and I do mean pleasure!) of driving from Manchester, New Hampshire up into north central Vermont. Highlights:

• No cell phone service
• Interesting local radio
• Beautiful scenery
• Polite drivers and very few of them

It was relaxing and wonderful and invigorating. I had time to think (remember what that feels like?) and time look around and appreciate the world.

But it also got me to thinking. There were signs for Moose Crossings, signs for Bear Crossings, and signs for Deer Crossings. I, for one, had no idea that any of those critters could read. Come to think of it, maybe they just look at the pictures. Nevermind. That makes more sense.

When I got back home (can you believe this was a day trip!?), I told Andrew that I was ready to pack my bags and move. I did a quick search (sorry Mom, sorry Alice) and found out that for 10-20% less than our current house is worth, we could buy a house that is over 4,000 square feet on 18.5 acres. And it’s nice. Really nice.

Can anyone recommend a good mover?

This one’s for you.

According to Wikipedia:

Vermont (IPA: /ˌvəɹˈmɑnt/) is a state in the New England region of the northeastern United States of America. The state ranks 45th by total area, and 43rd by land area at 9,250 square miles, and has a population of 608,827, making it the second least populous state (second only to Wyoming). The only New England state with no coastline along the Atlantic Ocean, Vermont is notable for the Green Mountains in the west and Lake Champlain in the northwest. It is bordered by Massachusetts to the south, New Hampshire to the east, New York to the west, and the Canadian province of Quebec to the north.

Be back soon….

(my mom was getting creeped out by the mask from Friday, so I promised to put something else up even though I didn’t have time to post before my quick little trip!)

I was in my first year of college when the first Friday the 13th movie came out. I had never been to a horror movie except Carrie and that scared the crap out of me. My friend Dawn grabbed my hand so tight that my hand bled from her fingernails digging into me.

So I wasn’t all that interested in scary movies.

I never saw a trailer. I hadn’t read about the movie. So when John suggested we go, I said okay.

It

was

so

not

okay.

Seriously, I still remember how freaked out I was. And I have never watched a horror movie since then.

Last night, Andrew and I (still sans children) started watching One Hour Photo. I knew it was creepy, but figured we were home and how bad could it be?

And I still don’t know how bad it could be…because I made Andrew turn it off half way through. I was starting to get the feeling it could be bad enough to keep me awake and freaked out for some time.

So you want to know what we’re doing for Friday the 13th? We’re going out for a quick dinner and maybe we’ll rent a Disney film. No, I’m kidding. But it’s our last night alone. I’m sure we’ll think of something.

Something that won’t scare the heck out of me.

Don’t forget!

I found a new website that I love, love, love. It’s Jott.

Picture this. You’re driving down the road and remember something. You know you won’t remember it later. You don’t have a pen. Besides, is it safe to write while driving on I-95 at 65 MPH? Don’t worry. Call Jott. This service will transcribe your message and send you an email with the text (and a link to the audio) or, if you prefer, they’ll send you a text message to your phone.

Or better yet, you want to send an email to a client, but can’t get to a computer.

You can even send message to a group of people, with one phone call.

Since I have bluetooth, I just say JOTT…it dials…I leave a message.

And it’s easy to set up.

Did I mention it’s free?

Try it!

Panic set in.

I got a 2 line letter from Reed yesterday. Not cheery. I checked the photos online. No smiles.

Panic set in.

So, as any Jewish mother would do, I emailed the unit leader. I haven’t heard back yet, but I just got the mail!

CHECK

IT

OUT!

Not only is he having a great time, he bought his little brother a squishy pillow. I’m so pleased!

PS: No mail from Max yet. Well, his Aunt Liz got a nice (albeit short) letter. But me? Nope. Nada. (He does look happy in the pictures, though!)

Talk is cheap.

One of the perks of the kids away is that we can come and go as we please. And last night, Andrew and I decided to go to Baltimore to one of our favorite restaurants, Blue Sea Grill. It’s owned by the same group as our area Ruth’s Chris steakhouses, leading my father to call it Ruth’s Fish. Cute, huh?

At any rate, last night we went early to take advantage of happy hour. We were happy to stop working early, happy to be together, and happy to feel so free. So happy hour seemed extremely appropriate.

We sat at the bar and ordered appetizers. Lots of appetizers, as you can see. It was fun!

There were 2 bartenders. One who was leaving soon and her replacement. Evidently, it was the new one’s first night.

We’re friendly, in general. But this woman would not stop talking. About her step-kids (boy 12, girl 9) and how they do nothing around the house. About her work schedule and her husband’s. About the pre-law classes she is starting to take. About her brothers (she has 6 brothers and 2 sisters). I know that she is 37 years old.

And to make matters worse, I know that she gagged when she tried oysters and sushi. (Her father offered her $25 to eat her first raw oyster when she was 15.) And apparently, she dislikes all fish. (Keep in mind, this is a seafood restaurant!)

Seriously, it was too, too much.

We tried avoiding eye contact. We tried shifting in our seats to face each other only.

To no avail. We had a great time, but folks, this was pretty darn annoying. If you Blue Sea Grill people have a Google Alert set up for your name (which every company should!) then here’s your chance.

Tell that woman to shut up or get out. No one wants to know her life story. Or even her thoughts. When we go out, we are doing it to feel special, to have a good time, and to stay connected.

And I don’t even mind a little chattiness. But, this was way over the top.

(But it makes a good story!)

Super citrus.

Some things are just not ladylike to discuss. But today, I decided to go out on a limb.

It’s nice to keep air freshener in your powder room. My personal favorite? Super Citrus. I am not a fru-fru flowery air freshener kind of girl.

Years ago at a previous job, there was a cinnamon-scented spray that was acceptable, but if you over sprayed, it was nauseating. But I digress.

One of our colleagues lost his mother this week. So today, we went to Chevy Chase to the Shiva, to pay our respects. It was lovely. A spread of food like no other. You know how it is; our people take their food very seriously. The house was beautiful and our friend’s family and friends were very nice.

I drank a bottle of water on the way there. Then, I had 2 diet Cokes (they didn’t have Pepsi!) so I could have something to hold for security.

So, I needed to use the rest room before we left – it’s about a 45 minute drive home. The door was closed and there was a sign in 6 year old writing that suggested that one knock since the lock was broken.

I knocked.

“Just a minute,” I heard.

So I waited. For minutes. Several long minutes.

Now would be a good time to mention what I was thinking while I was waiting. I was thinking that if someone was in there that long, this was not going to be pretty. Could I hold it in? Could I make it back home? I didn’t think so. So I continued to wait, dreading the inevitable.

And the door opened. An elderly man stood there – with the door opened now – and flushed the toilet. He put the seat up and then down (huh?) and exited the room, allowing me to enter.

Before I go there, I have to wonder if he washed his hands. I wonder because who flushes AFTER they wash? But anyway…

I walked in. And much to my dismay, it was worse than I’d imagined. My eyes scoured the room looking for…you guessed it…air freshener. There was a pedestal sink, so nothing under there. I was starting to panic when I noticed a baby powder scented spray on the floor in the corner. Gasping for air, I sprayed.

Ahhhh.

So all this to remind you that it’s really nice to have spray. And I highly recommend the Super Citrus – it’s fresh and clean smelling.

Maybe I should start carrying it in my purse.