can i just say? 2.0

my dad mentioned a couple weeks ago how he missed these weekly rantings of mine, and since today is 1) still january; 2) the last day of a very long week; and 3) a day when i happen to be both sleep-deprived and feeling the onset of PMS, i figured it's a good time to get back in the swing. 

joe shmoe: i admit that when i first heard about Joe Torre's new book, i was excited. i wanted him to stick it to the Yankees, mostly because i'm mad at the Yankees myself. they don't feel like my team anymore, for many of the reasons highlighted in the "leaked" book passages—the slimy ways of the front office, the many gigantic-yet-fragile egos in the clubhouse, and so on. then i heard another "leak" which quoted Mike Mussina saying not-so-great things about Mariano Rivera and i thought, what's the point of this? rather than vindicating himself or sticking it to the guys who screwed him over, it seemed suddenly like Joe was no better than the other sports world hacks who've sold out (ahem-Canseco-ahem) and written a salacious book just to stir the pot a little (and pad the wallet). and i had yet another reason to feel bummed about the Yankees. what's next? a reality show? Drama in the Dugout? 

thank you, time warner:  for the last week my DVR has not been recording the things i've asked it to record. this is very frustrating and yet i am a little relieved. aside from the very first two episodes, i have not seen any of American Idol. and can i tell you how good it feels? as entertained as i have been by that show, it definitely becomes a burden as the season goes on. 

i don't miss it in the least, which means i'm highly unlikely to get sucked in once auditions are over, which means i will have many more nights to focus on daily episodes of Property Virgins instead. so thank you, divine DVR intervention (though this issue does need to be resolved before new episodes of Brothers & Sisters return). 

grow some: this is a purposely-vague rant on behalf of someone i know to whom something ridiculous happened this week at the hands of someone who really needs to remove his head from his arse. it's been on my mind since Tuesday and is just another thing on the list of Really Annoying Things That Happened This Week. grr.

because i can't be all complainy: i feel compelled to tell those of you who are female with great friendships to read (if you haven't already) a book called Truth & Beauty by Ann Patchett. i finished it earlier this week and it was truly one of the best books i've ever read. i ran a gamut of emotions while reading it (something i always look for in a book) and it's stayed on my mind even though i've moved on to another book. i just think it should be required reading for women who love their friends. 

OK, so clearly i'm a little rusty after months of keeping my gripes inside. but this is a good warm-up. by next Friday i'll be all piss and vinegar, i promise. 

mb

from 32 to 80 in two minutes flat

three weeks exactly after i fell in the pothole and killed my ankle, i finally went to the doctor. i've felt pretty good the last few weeks—i even got to the gym twice—but i still had some bruising and certain areas were sore to the touch. i figured i better get it checked out before i wind up falling in another pothole (you know it will happen) and get laid up for weeks.

so i got the name of an ankle specialist from my knee specialist and paid a visit to good ol' St. Vincent's this morning. after some X-rays and repeatedly telling doctors that i did not play sports in school, unless you count the "dancing" i did in the musicals, they told me i might have a cracked talus bone.

it's not an emergency—i need a CT scan, but that won't happen until next week. the one doc did get my attention real fast when he told me they wanted to put me in a ski boot just to be safe. as he was saying the words, i was envisioning myself lumbering down the steps of the subway station with a big hunk of plastic on my foot, slipping and doing much more damage than a cracked talus.

when i explained that i was clumsy enough on my own and adding anything foreign to my person would only up the chances for disaster, he relented.

"we'll just get you a cane then," he said.

[i have no idea what my face looked like when he said that, but in my head i was thinking, "like hell you will!"]

i rejected the boot, but i couldn't reject the cane. i had to throw them a bone. an assistant in the office came by a few minutes later with an authentic, granny-perfect, metal-and-gray-rubber cane, just for moi. she showed me how to use it (seriously) and adjusted the height for me. then she said i should feel free to personalize it however i wanted to. like with stickers.

"nah, i sort of like the 80-year-old vibe it has as is," i said.

then i left the building with the cane. not using it, mind you. just holding the ridiculous thing in the crook of my arm. i pretended it was a prop for a show i was doing, or that i was delivering it to a homebound senior citizen.

on my way out of the hospital, i passed about three older women who had canes and were actually using them, which only solidified my resolve not to use mine.

it's not just vanity, i promise you. i honestly think it's more dangerous for me to use it than to not use it.

seriously, i wreak enough havoc when it's rainy and i'm forced to carry an umbrella. fellow pedestrians duck and cover when they see me charging up the block. i do worry occasionally that i have put a gash in someone's head or gouged an eyeball or two. this cane is an equally harmful weapon, in my opinion.

case in point: as i waited at 14th Street for the F train just after my appointment, i was simply trying to switch the cane from one arm to the other and it flew out of my hands and nearly wound up on the train tracks.

so: no. cracked talus or not, the cane is staying in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet until further notice. people of new york, you're welcome.

mb

i'd like the chipper chicken

i was never the kind of girl who dreamed about her wedding. i think i dreamed more about who i might marry rather than the actual wedding. i also saw Father of the Bride (the version with "Franck") at a delicate age and perhaps it had a deep and long-lasting effect on me. (my father is so the type to rip hot dog rolls apart in the bread aisle of a grocery store.)

last weekend i was in PA for my first dress shopping excursions and took some time to flip through my gram's wedding album, which my mom happened to have. gram got married in September of 1948 at eight-thirty in the morning. there were minimal pictures - nothing during the ceremony - and the reception consisted of a nice breakfast at what looked like a lovely, local restaurant.

after that, despite having looked at it a million times, i hauled out my parents' wedding album. they got married in October of 1971. my father was away for basic training during all of the planning and had no say in anything - nor did he want to, apparently. my mother did her own hair and makeup on the big day, and a friend took the pictures. there was no honeymoon, and when they left the reception it was in a toilet-papered VW bug with empty beer cans tied to the bumper.

the other day my future mother-in-law was telling me about her wedding, which took place in 1976. in her wedding pictures her hair is a shade that it never was before that day and hasn't been since. she colored her own hair the day before the wedding, but something went wrong, and her attempts to fix it failed miserably. but she didn't care. she told me she shrugged it off at the time. she was getting married - what did hair color matter?

i really wish things were still the same today. i'm having a bit of a crisis because planning a wedding the size and scale that seems to be both the norm and also what will make our families happy - and yet not exceed the budget - seems to be mission impossible. and i keep wondering when and where it all went awry. because once upon a time, clearly weddings were normal, reasonable affairs - something people kept in perspective. a very special day in the lives of two people and their families, true. but still, in the end, just a day.

michael and i both realize that our wedding is just a day, too. but between vendors who i really think have some nerve charging the prices they charge, and the magazines and websites that offer more options and ideas and tips and checklists than my gram could even begin to comprehend, and the ever-growing guest list, it gets very difficult to maintain perspective.

i've been fixated, pretty much since we got engaged, on music. to save money (and to make the ceremony more personal) i thought using recorded music was a good idea. who needs a string quartet? lots of people use their iPods these days, and so i've spent many hours hunting for, downloading and obsessively listening to possible songs to use for the ceremony. i've also started writing the programs. and i had a friend from work design save-the-dates. i baked her brownies in return.

in other words: i'm focusing on all the parts of the wedding that don't cost gagillions of dollars. they're the only parts that make sense to me. (ok, ok, full disclosure: i did find a dress and we put money down but even that was a reasonable purchase in the scheme of things. it is not a Vera Wang.) i don't mean to whine and complain but it seriously bugs me that weddings cost as much as they do these days.

i consulted half a dozen friends today about their recent or ongoing wedding planning and heard the same story over and over - it's very hard to stay within a budget, even when you have the best intentions. things cost more than you think they will. last minute details crop up. stuff happens. i read a story today about a couple who racked up $30,000 in credit card debt (on top of what their parents contributed) to have the "perfect" wedding.

i just don't get it. i was one of those naive brides who thought surely i could do things differently, i wouldn't bogged down in stupid details, i wouldn't let it all get to me. i would find a way to plan a beautiful wedding for half the budget i was given.

right.

if for some reason you can't find me in the upcoming weeks, check the bread aisle in the grocery store.

mb

a beautiful day

i am seriously sleep-deprived and have a lot of other things to catch up on here, but i couldn't let today go by without commenting on its gravity.

we don't normally have access to streaming video at the office, but today, in honor of the inauguration, the rules were lifted. unfortunately, eight billion other people were also trying to watch the festivities on CNN.com and MSNBC.com, and the streaming video was more like hiccuping, frequently-stalling video. there was mild panic among my co-workers because all of us were hell-bent on watching the 44th president sworn into office. luckily there was a television in a conference room a few floors up, so we made a beeline for it. 

despite the fact that no one could get the sound to work on the flat screen, and we had to settle for listening to the audio via NPR on someone's radio (which was about five seconds behind the digital image we were watching on screen), we were at least able to witness history. i got goosebumps several times during the ceremony (even though the conference room was sweltering—too many people were crammed in there, but no one complained) and felt both lighter and more pensive once it was over. 

maybe it's just relief from knowing the Bush era is over or maybe it's my sunny, optimistic outlook reemerging after years of dormancy, but i was really believing, listening to President Obama speak today, that he can change the world. that we all can. i found myself silently vowing to do better. to get frustrated a little less easily, to be thankful a little more often, to extend a hand rather than put up a wall. 

i sound like the idealists i scoffed at a year ago when the Democratic race was still wide open. and yet now, with the state of affairs in our country and the world, with a change now officially, wonderfully in place, i want to be idealistic. god knows Obama has got his work cut out for him, so many messes to clean up and fences to mend, but it's still a fresh start in many ways. it won't be easy, but it can be new, it can be different. 

it was silent in the conference room during the ceremony, except for the times when we all applauded—when it was announced, just afternoon (and before the swearing-in) that the powers had officially shifted from the Bush administration to the Obama administration—and after Obama had taken his oath, and after he finished his inspiring speech. there were no high-fives, no whoops or hollers. 

but you could feel the relief—the relaxing of shoulders and necks—the quiet hope that finally has a substantial place in our lives and in our world, and a leader who is on our same page. 

mb  

this is for you, geev

my lovely friend Geever is gently nagging me to post something new — she's tired of seeing my last entry day after day, and i know she's right. i've had lots of blog guilt this week. but between work being suddenly intense and insane, American Idol starting up again (personal weakness) and the frigid weather we're currently having that keeps me huddled under blankets at home, i haven't had the spark or the time to write anything new.

and i've really wanted to, because i had my bridesmaids brunch last Sunday — a little meet and greet for all my girls (minus Christine, who is seven months prego and PA-bound), most of whom had crossed paths at one time or another but didn't know each other that well — and it was a trip. the idea was to make mimosas to go along with the egg custard and coffee cake, but at the end of the day, i had five empty bottles of champagne in my kitchen and two full cartons of OJ, untouched. 

that alone indicates a successful party, in my opinion. 

one of the highlights was definitely when my future mother-in-law, Maria, popped in. she is, in the best way possible, a one-woman show. she was there for less than an hour but thoroughly entertained us. as i walked her downstairs so she could head to another family gathering, she apologized and asked me if she'd cursed too much. "Maria," i said, "that's all these girls do. believe me, you're one of us." 

brunch stretched almost to dinnertime — by the time the girls left, it was dark outside — and by Monday they were all friends on Facebook. i hope it goes without saying (but i'll say it anyway) that i am beyond lucky to have so many wonderful gals in my life. they are actually, seriously interested in what kind of dress i'm looking for, the music i'm choosing for the ceremony, what type of save-the-date cards i'm using... all boring details and ins and outs of wedding planning. 

they are, as i always say, fabulous women. they will make the next 10 months fun and hilarious and much less stressful than they'd be if i was doing this without them. 

up next, this weekend: the dress hunt begins. i'm taking bets on how long it will take for my mom to cry. so far, Aunt Val has bet on in the car on the way to the first dress shop. i'm going out on a limb and predicting that i will be the first one to cry. let me know if you care to make a wager. otherwise, i'll post a recap next week.

mb

Irish and Italians make beautiful babies

so my parents didn't hesitate to plan The Big Meet once Michael and i got engaged. in all our eight years together, not even our parents had met. this seems strange to some, but our families lived over two hours apart and really, until you're engaged, what's the sense in having families meet? because either 1) they hate each other and make life miserable for the both of you or 2) they love each other and make life miserable for the both of you.

anyway. this is the preparation that took place before The Big Meet:

- intensive menu planning (mom opted for hot and cold hors d'oeuvres due to the size of the party)
- repainting of the front door (dad opted for a color called Sassy Red or something like that)
- fixing of the power room toilet (it needed some help flushing properly)
- purchasing of enough square and triangular plates to serve an army (can never be too prepared)
- approximately twelve trips to the grocery store
- the mixing and rolling of eight hundred Swedish meatballs
- two scrubbings of the kitchen floor (once on Friday by the cleaning lady, once on Saturday morning by dad, after mom finished cooking)
- lots of stashing and hiding of the papers and magazines and odds and ends that have no real home other than various countertops

there was, however, absolutely no freaking out by me or by either of my parents. this, i did not expect. i was prepared for an utter meltdown by one of us - that's just how we roll - but i am proud and relieved to say that we all held it together.

this is what it was like when Michael's family arrived, in a caravan of three cars carrying twelve adults and one baby: a steady stream of individuals coming up the front walk and kissing both my mother and me as they entered the house, one by one, each holding a fruit arrangement, a bottle of wine or a box of pastry.

i know all of them, i see all of them on a regular basis, and even i didn't think the parade would end.

my parents assigned Michael and i the roles of host and hostess (ie waiter and waitress) so that they could mix and mingle and get to know my future in-laws. this was an excellent idea, as my parents rarely get to enjoy themselves at their own shindigs. so we kept the food coming and the drinks flowing and i had two-second conversations with everyone present.

(my side of the family showed up about 15 minutes after Michael's. my contingency included my Uncle Tim, Aunt Joanne, cousin Alayne and her boyfriend Matt - and i believe felt like they walked into the wrong house. our get-togethers are typically mellow, decorous, small. this, by comparison, was like a KISS concert.)

there was lots of conversing, lots of laughing and lots of life story telling. at one point Michael's grandfather called my mom over to specially commend her for her baked clams...that was a momentous thing, considering Grandma Rose basically created baked clams. at another point, my Uncle Tim called me over to tell me that Irish and Italians make beautiful babies (he should know, he married my Italian Aunt Joanne.)

then, between the hot hors d'ouevres and dessert, as the frenzy was ebbing, we brought out Left, Right, Center. and this is when i knew everything was really gonna be OK. Aunt Fran and Uncle Tim were trash-talking, Aunt Joanne was flirting with Grandpa, Joelle was hugging Aunt Joanne every time she rolled the dice and my mother was actually celebrating every time she had a good roll. (she ultimately won the pot, which is probably against the etiquette rules but seems fair enough considering the eight hundred meatballs she made.)

looking around the table, i realized this was a group of people who'd known each other only a few hours and yet already seemed to regard each other as family. even though it's how i expected the event to go, it made my heart swell.

after we brought out the wide array of desserts and cut our M&M-sprinkled cake, the cavalcade had to hit the road. the goodbyes were only slightly less hectic than the hellos, but there were lots of "see you soon!" and "can't wait 'til next time!" and "be here when the pool's open!" my parents and i stood in the cold on the front porch as the cars pulled away, each one honking as it left. we laughed.

i admit to feeling some relief that it was over. i'm also not entirely sure i've caught up on sleep since. but mostly i'm happy that my two families finally met, and like each other as much as i like each of them.

it was a great start to what i think will be a great, great year.

mb

off to a smashing start

i wanted to write something today about how great 2009 has been so far... about how i had a great time new year's eve, about how i spent new year's day lazing about with Michael, watching The Honeymooners marathon, eating very garlicky garlic knots and playing Trivial Pursuit. and about how two days later, the big event - when our families finally met - was a perfect, perfect day.

i wanted to write about all of it in detail today, but this morning i got myself up to go to the gym - back in the saddle, you know? i have to start trying on wedding dresses soon - and i was doing OK until i stepped off the curb two doors up from my building, and went down like a sack of potatoes. it was six-fifteen in the morning and still dark out and i had no idea there was a big ol' pothole in the street. my ankle twisted itself up good and i nearly passed out right there on the pavement. it's a scary feeling, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness.

somehow i got myself back up the steps of my stoop and inside the door. once i felt steady enough i got myself to my couch and here i've stayed ever since. this isn't the first time i've done a number on my ankle, and i have good reason to think it won't be the last. you'd think my Irish ankles would be much sturdier than they are. lord knows i can't wear flats without looking like a piano but when push comes to shove those suckers snap like twigs.

anyway. i'm cooped up and lacking the inspiration to write about the last week or so. i'll recount, embellish and elaborate once the swelling goes down. in the meantime, if anyone knows how to burn calories (the kind accrued with reckless abandon over the holidays, let's say) whilst sitting on one's tush on the couch, please let me know.

mb