I’d love your thoughts

I’ve migrated to WordPress – still working out the details. I’d love your thoughts on this versus my blogspot space!

Thank you!

Who’s on YOUR safety team?

Had to smile when my 9 year old brought this home. He handed it to me with a comment that he would not trust one brother to be on the list. But notice that his oldest brother trumps me and his dad. It’s kind of nice that he includes an aunt and uncle on the list!

I know who is on my safety team. Do you know who’s on yours?

The big easy.

Andrew and I haven’t been to New Orleans since 1997. I was pregnant with Reed and we thought it’d be a groovy idea to get away before we had 2 kids. (I’m sure someone watched Davis. We never would have left an 18 month old home alone.)

Our friend’s father, Perry, was an old friend of Emeril’s. He got us an amazing table for dinner. And, to top it off, Perry had a nice bottle of wine sent to our table. Classy guy, that Perry. We had the tasting menu, and I must say, it was the first meal of its kind I have ever had. It might have even been the turning point for me – when I agreed that a really fine meal is entertainment. (Of course, Andrew had felt this way for some time.)

We had other great meals and went to some fine clubs (and not so fine clubs) and had a heckofa good time. We stayed in a fancy schmancy hotel with really nice sheets. (See, I am consistent!)

We walked around at night and laughed and talked.

It was magical.

So when we were invited to speak at a conference that just happens to be in…wait for it… New Orleans, I said yes rather quickly.

Today, I booked the travel. I have to finish my presentation and a lot of other things to prepare.

But I can tell you that we already have dinner reservations and that I have been assured that the sheets at the hotel are really first class.

Fast forward 12 hours…. I dreamed about this post. Crazy, huh? As the reader, I thought, wow, no mention of all the city has been through? Just thinking of food and tourism? Shallow, shallow, shallow. So I have 2 responses to myself. 1) Yes, of course we want to see the city, the rebuilding, the destruction first-hand and to better understand what is happening there. And, yes, we supported funds and friends when Katrina struck. So we’re really not heartless and 2) The city is dying for people to come and spend money. For the tourism to come back. So we’re happy to help. There you have it. My response to myself. Though now I’m wondering if I need professional help. I mean seriously, writing blog posts in my sleep. Scary stuff.

2 N. Broadway

This is the house at 2 N. Broadway in Baltimore. It’s between Fells Point and Johns Hopkins Hospital.

I took this picture because my colleague’s father used to hang out at that house in the 1930′s.

Casting on.

Driving to D.C. the other day, I decided to start a new knitting project. But, alas, I had no recollection of how to cast on. I kept trying and failing. It was just not right. (This has happened to me before. Often. I don’t know why I find this so darn difficult.)

Anyway, I called my mother. She told me how to hold the yarn and what to do. It worked! Yay!

Then I asked Andrew to look at my hand and remember it so that next time I forget, he can tell me how. But he had a better idea. Take a picture.

And I did. Now, it’s on my phone for every road trip…

Mahj

For nearly 10 years now, people have been asking me to learn this game. And for 10 years, even though I have a beautiful retro set from my grandmother, I have said, “No, I do not want to learn. Thank you.”

So, now, after my second lesson and two winning games (albeit open hands with lots of help) I am trying to understand what kept me from this game before.

Before I tell you the revelations that I’ve excavated from the recesses of my odd little mind about what my problem is with Mahjong, I want to tell you what I’ve learned and what I like about this game.

What I’ve learned:

• Suits don’t have to look alike to be alike. Be one with the suit.
• A dragon can look like a bar soap instead of like a dragon.
• Crak is not an illicit drug.
• Bam is not just what Emeril says.
• Four different tiles put together are not necessarily a set.
• Flowers all look different. But they’re the same.
• Left, across, right, across, left, left stacked…. (I think?)
• If you’re the one who dumps the tile that makes someone else win? You pay double.
• Stick to one area of the card.
• Relax. And don’t commit too early.

AND

• It’s hard to remember how much trail mix you eat when you’re concentrating on the hand.
• Playing hooky rocks.
• It sure is fun to be with friends for a couple hours with no distractions.
• I sure appreciate my patient teacher.

Back to the scheduled programming. Why I resisted learning this game for so many years. I think I might have figured it out. First of all, that tile mixing makes the most distinctive (and annoying) sound. It brought back memories of my childhood. I hate that sound.

And until recently, I didn’t know anyone younger than my mother’s generation that played mahjong. And though my mother played when she was younger than me, I had no perspective. So to me, only older women played. I imagined more of my grandmother and her friends clicking their tiles at the club.

And it seemed to me that people had games every week. More than one time a week. Surely, I couldn’t imagine signing up for a hobby that was that frequent. No time! Plus, it felt like a secret club. Know what I mean?

So why did I relent?

I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to be in a secret club. Maybe I just got asked at the right moment when the stars were aligned. Maybe I figured I’d be losing my hearing soon and the tile-sounds wouldn’t bother me for long. Maybe my schedule opened up.

I have no clue.

But if it keeps being fun, I’ll keep playing.

18 years and it still smarts.

Eighteen years ago, I went to my 10 year high school reunion.

I went with some wonderful friends; we met at Pam’s place in Mt. Vernon. I loved that apartment. I went without a date. Why? Well, my first hub and I had recently separated. It was the first social event I was going to alone since. I was prepared for all the questions. I was freaked out.

I remember going to a boutique with my mom to get a great outfit to wear. It was a green-ish silk and suede outfit with a jacket and pants – perfectly appropriate in 1989. Thinking back? Yikes. But I digress.

So Pam and I and the gang headed to Westminster Hall to the big event. For those who don’t know, The Westminster Hall and Burying Ground, is a graveyard and former church and the burial site of Edgar Allan Poe.

(Actually, it might have been at Lexington Market. There were two different things and I don’t know which was which! But Westminster Hall is cooler.)

So we all got name tags with photos of what we looked like then. Okay. Not my best look, but I’ll live.

While everyone is hanging out and talking, a guy I had a huge crush on through high school starting chatting me up. He was a good friend of my friend, Joe. He was handsome and charming and had just started law school. I was flattered to have his full attention.

Before my friends and I left for Fells Point and the after-party, he asked for my phone number.

It was the ego-boost I needed after being so depressed over my failed marriage.

A day or so later, he called me and asked me to dinner.

I would love to. We talked for a while and we chose a date and time.

Again, I went shopping. I bought a new pair of jeans and a very cute sweater. I was counting the days.

And it finally arrived!

I looked really great. Outfit? Check. Hair? Check. Attitude? Check.

7:00 p.m. came and went.

7:30 p.m.

8:00 p.m.

Maybe I had the day wrong? I was panicked and stressed.

I’d call him. It must be a misunderstanding.

He answered the phone. He seemed surprised to hear from me.

Where are you, I asked?

Oh, I need to reschedule. I’ll call you later this week.

And he never did.

Fast forward to 2008.

I had lunch with my mom and three other women today. I suppose you can guess who walked in with his wife, kids, and his parents.

His wife is a great friend of the women I was sitting with. So she came over to say hello. She seemed very nice.

And as I walked to the ladies’ room (you have no idea how hard I tried to hold it in!) I had to walk past his table.

I put on my best smile and said hello.

He smiled and said hello.

And I kept walking.

Honestly, this guy is nothing to me. So why does it still make my heart hurt for even a split second?

Winter is almost over.

Today is Groundhog Day. Six more weeks of winter. I should be thrilled – it’ll be warm soon. Right? But do you realize we’ve only had ten weeks so far? So it’s really barely half over.

Got me thinking about when it will really be warm:

Average Monthly Temperatures in Washington, DC

January
Average high temperature: 43
Average low temperature: 24
Rainfall: 3.57

February
Average high temperature: 47
Average low temperature: 26
Rainfall: 2.84

March
Average high temperature: 55
Average low temperature: 33
Rainfall: 3.92

April
Average high temperature: 66
Average low temperature: 42
Rainfall: 3.26

May
Average high temperature: 76
Average low temperature: 52
Rainfall: 4.29
June
Average high temperature: 84
Average low temperature: 62
Rainfall: 3.63

July
Average high temperature: 89
Average low temperature: 67
Rainfall: 4.21

August
Average high temperature: 87
Average low temperature: 65
Rainfall: 3.9

September
Average high temperature: 80
Average low temperature: 57
Rainfall: 4.08

October
Average high temperature: 69
Average low temperature: 44
Rainfall: 3.43

November
Average high temperature: 58
Average low temperature: 36
Rainfall: 3.32

December
Average high temperature: 48
Average low temperature: 28
Rainfall: 3.25

I know this is random. Just a peak into my thoughts for 11:10 AM today.

Off to have lunch with my mom!