I'm guest blogging over at the Urban Muse today! If you've ever wondered what happened during the month last spring when I dropped off the face of the blogsphere (I think there were 17 consecutive posts that said, "Still wearing the same sweatpants...still editing...") here's the scoop. It's not scandalous or jaw-dropping, but it's the closest thing I've got to accumulated wisdom about writing :)
And while you're there, be sure to leave a comment and tell the fabulous Susan that her vacation tan looks great!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
CSI Cambridge
I pulled into the parking lot at my gym the other day and noticed that the window of the car next to me had been smashed in. I'd seen two guys walking away from this general area as I approached, but given the nature and demographics of my gym, I thought nothing of it. Until, that is, I noticed the sedan with the new air conditioning.
Now, given my background as a lawyer, and the years I spent studying various aspects of criminal justice, do you think my first reaction was:
a.) to reach for my cell phone and dial 911?
b.) to pull out of my parking space with screeching tires and chase down the bad guys?
or
c.) to lean over to check the ambient temperature gauge in my car, while wondering, "Is it really warm enough to go drive to the gym with no car window?"
Yep, that's me: razor sharp. A crime took place right in front of me, but my happy little brain couldn't even process that something like that could happen. Instead, I honestly thought that someone had had their car broken into somewhere else, and they decided to get a workout in before having it fixed. Unbelievable. As I described this to Steve when I got home, he said, "Wow Honey...we may have to move you back to Maine for your own safety..."
On the upside: if there's some unpleasant aspect of life you'd like to overlook completely, let me know...perhaps my skills are transferable?
Now, given my background as a lawyer, and the years I spent studying various aspects of criminal justice, do you think my first reaction was:
a.) to reach for my cell phone and dial 911?
b.) to pull out of my parking space with screeching tires and chase down the bad guys?
or
c.) to lean over to check the ambient temperature gauge in my car, while wondering, "Is it really warm enough to go drive to the gym with no car window?"
Yep, that's me: razor sharp. A crime took place right in front of me, but my happy little brain couldn't even process that something like that could happen. Instead, I honestly thought that someone had had their car broken into somewhere else, and they decided to get a workout in before having it fixed. Unbelievable. As I described this to Steve when I got home, he said, "Wow Honey...we may have to move you back to Maine for your own safety..."
On the upside: if there's some unpleasant aspect of life you'd like to overlook completely, let me know...perhaps my skills are transferable?
Monday, February 25, 2008
Monday confession
I have no idea what other writers do to get up and running on Mondays...read the New Yorker, perhaps; after which they spend fourteen or fifteen hours crafting thoughtful prose on things like transforming culture, the importance of aligning our emotional energy, or how if more people were on The Zone diet, we'd be one step closer to world peace.
Me? I just ate lunch in front of the TV, and now I'm captivated by the latest season of the Real World/Road Rules challenge. They just sent veterans Coral and Beth to the gauntlet!!! If the publishing world sponsored a match like this, it would be Jane Austen v. Virginia Woolf. Or perhaps Edith Warton v. Sylvia Path.
What famous person would you take to the gauntlet to take their position on the bookshelf/iTunes Store/movie theater?
I'd take on Jennifer Garner. I don't need her movie career, but I'd wrestle her to the ground in a heartbeat for the seats she and Ben have right next to the the Red Sox dugout :)
Me? I just ate lunch in front of the TV, and now I'm captivated by the latest season of the Real World/Road Rules challenge. They just sent veterans Coral and Beth to the gauntlet!!! If the publishing world sponsored a match like this, it would be Jane Austen v. Virginia Woolf. Or perhaps Edith Warton v. Sylvia Path.
What famous person would you take to the gauntlet to take their position on the bookshelf/iTunes Store/movie theater?
I'd take on Jennifer Garner. I don't need her movie career, but I'd wrestle her to the ground in a heartbeat for the seats she and Ben have right next to the the Red Sox dugout :)
Friday, February 22, 2008
BSP
When my book comes out this spring, I'll be going on tour! (It will be just like Janet Jackson or Madonna, I'm quite certain...except without a bus, entourage, light show, or roadies. I'm still negotiating with my publisher about backup dancers; we're not sure group choreography will work in some of the smaller bookstores...)
Yesterday, I received an cool email from a blog friend asking what it might take for me to end up in her part of the country in my travels. My answer? "I'm as good as there!" We're not sure if we can make it happen, but we're working on a plan. Totally fun.
It made me wonder: might there be a way to meet more of our group while I'm out on the road? The blogsphere has been such a great place to ponder questions about about the important things in life (men, relationships, marriage, spirituality, favorite books, the best places to find cute shoes) it would be fun to take those chats live over coffee, wine, and chocolate martinis. We could call it the "No More Frogs" tour, or something...
So here's my thought: As it stands right now, I'll be doing events in Portland, Boston, NYC, (possibly Philadelphia), Washington DC, Chicago, Grand Rapids, and Dallas. If you live in one of these areas and have a group of women (book club, small group, girls night out crew, etc.) that might like to get together while I'm in town, drop me a line at Trishryanonline AT gmail DOT com. I have no idea if this is at all feasible, but it might be!
Addendum: I should have mentioned this before: the reason I'm not currently scheduled for other cities is because we're not that my traveling show (with or without dancers) would generate an audience there. BUT... if you are an audience-generating kind of person and know some readers in your town who would like to have the type of gathering I described above, let me know and I'll bring it up with the powers that be!
Okay, enough about me...What do you have going on this week that's really cool? Did you log 13,000 receipts for your tax docs? Conquer the flu? Prepare a meatloaf for a family of four in a toaster oven? Tell me about it!
Yesterday, I received an cool email from a blog friend asking what it might take for me to end up in her part of the country in my travels. My answer? "I'm as good as there!" We're not sure if we can make it happen, but we're working on a plan. Totally fun.
It made me wonder: might there be a way to meet more of our group while I'm out on the road? The blogsphere has been such a great place to ponder questions about about the important things in life (men, relationships, marriage, spirituality, favorite books, the best places to find cute shoes) it would be fun to take those chats live over coffee, wine, and chocolate martinis. We could call it the "No More Frogs" tour, or something...
So here's my thought: As it stands right now, I'll be doing events in Portland, Boston, NYC, (possibly Philadelphia), Washington DC, Chicago, Grand Rapids, and Dallas. If you live in one of these areas and have a group of women (book club, small group, girls night out crew, etc.) that might like to get together while I'm in town, drop me a line at Trishryanonline AT gmail DOT com. I have no idea if this is at all feasible, but it might be!
Addendum: I should have mentioned this before: the reason I'm not currently scheduled for other cities is because we're not that my traveling show (with or without dancers) would generate an audience there. BUT... if you are an audience-generating kind of person and know some readers in your town who would like to have the type of gathering I described above, let me know and I'll bring it up with the powers that be!
Okay, enough about me...What do you have going on this week that's really cool? Did you log 13,000 receipts for your tax docs? Conquer the flu? Prepare a meatloaf for a family of four in a toaster oven? Tell me about it!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
In case George Michael was right...
Over the past week, two different people sent me the same article from the the latest issue of The Atlantic. It's a gut-wrenching piece by Lori Gottlieb, who makes the provocative assertion that at a certain point, it's better for women to settle for a man who isn't quite right than to end up alone forever waiting for true love.
Have you seen it? It's a stunner of an essay, most notably because of the author's unquestionable credibility: she's a forty-something single mom (she had IVF a year or so back), staring down the barrel of a long life without a husband to help out with, well, anything. Suddenly, the guy she ditched because he wasn't much of a reader seems like a gem (she has no time to read now, anyway) and all the little things that made her dismiss various Mr. Maybe's over the years seem foolish and inconsequential as she faces the enormity of a life spent alone. She's amazingly candid about her realization that she's no longer in a decision making place, even in terms of settling. Instead, she's someone who (hopefully) some nice guy might someday settle for. Her words dented my heart in more ways than I can describe.
Then I heard Sheryl Crow's new CD, Detours, which was like deja vu all over again. It made me wonder if these two women synchronized their release dates, because as I hear Sheryl sing, "I could wait my whole life for this moment to come/With a long list of beautiful chances I’ve blown," it feels like the anthem to Gottlieb's essay (and, to be honest, my life up until a few years ago). Pain like this obviously makes for great writing and music, but it seems like a kind of awful thing to live with day-to-day.
I talked about this with my friend Grace, who offered an interesting perspective. She's been married for fifteen years now, but freely admits that God gets the credit for getting her through the dating maze. She described how God nudged her to end a relationship with a guy who wasn't right for her (saying something to the effect of, He's not headed to where you want to end up in life), and later urged her to stay in a relationship with Dave, the man who ultimately became her husband. She often tells the story of their tumultuous first year of dating: how Dave triggered every one of Grace's issues, how they fought, how she told him one afternoon, "If you think I'm going to fall in love with you, you've got another thing coming!" But as each of them talked to God about their tumult, they heard similar things: Hang in there. Give it a little more time. Don't give up on this. So that's what they did. Now, all these years later, they're one of the couples that inspire me to believe that marriage can still be sexy and fun as the years go by. They defy the odds.
Thinking about all of this (and my own recent experiment with trusting God with my love life, and George Michael singing cause you've got to have faith in the pilot episode of Eli Stone) gave me an idea. You can read about it here, at a new blog I set up yesterday. If it sounds like something you'd be interested in trying, drop me a line and I'll let you know when we start.
If you're curious (and brave!) you can find the Lori Gottlieb's article here.
Here's to no more kissing frogs, no more detours, and no more settling :)
Have you seen it? It's a stunner of an essay, most notably because of the author's unquestionable credibility: she's a forty-something single mom (she had IVF a year or so back), staring down the barrel of a long life without a husband to help out with, well, anything. Suddenly, the guy she ditched because he wasn't much of a reader seems like a gem (she has no time to read now, anyway) and all the little things that made her dismiss various Mr. Maybe's over the years seem foolish and inconsequential as she faces the enormity of a life spent alone. She's amazingly candid about her realization that she's no longer in a decision making place, even in terms of settling. Instead, she's someone who (hopefully) some nice guy might someday settle for. Her words dented my heart in more ways than I can describe.
Then I heard Sheryl Crow's new CD, Detours, which was like deja vu all over again. It made me wonder if these two women synchronized their release dates, because as I hear Sheryl sing, "I could wait my whole life for this moment to come/With a long list of beautiful chances I’ve blown," it feels like the anthem to Gottlieb's essay (and, to be honest, my life up until a few years ago). Pain like this obviously makes for great writing and music, but it seems like a kind of awful thing to live with day-to-day.
I talked about this with my friend Grace, who offered an interesting perspective. She's been married for fifteen years now, but freely admits that God gets the credit for getting her through the dating maze. She described how God nudged her to end a relationship with a guy who wasn't right for her (saying something to the effect of, He's not headed to where you want to end up in life), and later urged her to stay in a relationship with Dave, the man who ultimately became her husband. She often tells the story of their tumultuous first year of dating: how Dave triggered every one of Grace's issues, how they fought, how she told him one afternoon, "If you think I'm going to fall in love with you, you've got another thing coming!" But as each of them talked to God about their tumult, they heard similar things: Hang in there. Give it a little more time. Don't give up on this. So that's what they did. Now, all these years later, they're one of the couples that inspire me to believe that marriage can still be sexy and fun as the years go by. They defy the odds.
Thinking about all of this (and my own recent experiment with trusting God with my love life, and George Michael singing cause you've got to have faith in the pilot episode of Eli Stone) gave me an idea. You can read about it here, at a new blog I set up yesterday. If it sounds like something you'd be interested in trying, drop me a line and I'll let you know when we start.
If you're curious (and brave!) you can find the Lori Gottlieb's article here.
Here's to no more kissing frogs, no more detours, and no more settling :)
Monday, February 18, 2008
Thoughts from the next generation
We babysat this weekend for the Niece and the Nephew. Our conversations were, to put it mildly, challenging.
The Nephew (age 7) over dinner: "Aunt Trish...are you and Uncle Steve ever going to have babies? I mean, you have a four door car!" (Practical boy, the Nephew).
My nuanced, sophisticated response? "Hey! Look at your clean plate! Would you like some cookies?" There was no way I was getting into the whole conversation about trying with him, even though he's made it perfectly clear over the past year or so that he's rather disappointed Steve and I haven't made the time to go to the baby store, pick out a cousin for him, and put it in my tummy for nine months to bake.
Then there was the Niece (age 4) at bedtime, right after I said, "Goodnight sweetie...sweet dreams...bless you!":
"Aunt Trish, what's bless you?
Me (again, revealing a deep sensitivity and attention to her spiritual development): "Um...Bless you is like saying God bless you. Okay? Great! Goodnight!"
She sat up in her bed. "But what does God bless you mean?"
"Well, it means, I hope God brings you blessings. You know, like the blessings you have: your family, your house, your dog Otis..."
"Then you have blessings, too Aunt Trish," she observed wisely. "You have THAT DOG!" She paused for a moment, gazing around at her piles of stuffed puppies. "I sure hope God brings me more blessings!" she finally said. Suddenly, I realized the deep theology lesson I'd imparted: Blessings = Dogs.
It's not entirely wrong...
The Nephew (age 7) over dinner: "Aunt Trish...are you and Uncle Steve ever going to have babies? I mean, you have a four door car!" (Practical boy, the Nephew).
My nuanced, sophisticated response? "Hey! Look at your clean plate! Would you like some cookies?" There was no way I was getting into the whole conversation about trying with him, even though he's made it perfectly clear over the past year or so that he's rather disappointed Steve and I haven't made the time to go to the baby store, pick out a cousin for him, and put it in my tummy for nine months to bake.
Then there was the Niece (age 4) at bedtime, right after I said, "Goodnight sweetie...sweet dreams...bless you!":
"Aunt Trish, what's bless you?
Me (again, revealing a deep sensitivity and attention to her spiritual development): "Um...Bless you is like saying God bless you. Okay? Great! Goodnight!"
She sat up in her bed. "But what does God bless you mean?"
"Well, it means, I hope God brings you blessings. You know, like the blessings you have: your family, your house, your dog Otis..."
"Then you have blessings, too Aunt Trish," she observed wisely. "You have THAT DOG!" She paused for a moment, gazing around at her piles of stuffed puppies. "I sure hope God brings me more blessings!" she finally said. Suddenly, I realized the deep theology lesson I'd imparted: Blessings = Dogs.
It's not entirely wrong...
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A different kind of Valentine
I know I'm not the only one out there who finds today's holiday less than enchanting. I'm no Valentine's grinch, but suffice to say that I've never understood how this random day could make a difference: If you're in love, it doesn't make you feel more loved, and if you're not in love, it drills another big hole in your heart (right over the one that was finally healing from New Year's Eve).
But this morning, I found an answer I'd never considered as to how this day could truly be a day of MORE love than we had or felt yesterday: David Kuo is running an amazing challenge on his blog, and I'm thinking and praying about taking it. I don't want to jump into this lightly--I've felt surges of altruism before that faded as quickly as they came (let's all say a collective prayer of thanks that the city of Philadelphia never let me become a Big Sister back in the day--who knows where that poor girl would be?) But I wonder if entering into this type of commitment--investing in someone's life in a tangible way--might not be the key to the love I woke up looking for this morning? Just a thought.
But this morning, I found an answer I'd never considered as to how this day could truly be a day of MORE love than we had or felt yesterday: David Kuo is running an amazing challenge on his blog, and I'm thinking and praying about taking it. I don't want to jump into this lightly--I've felt surges of altruism before that faded as quickly as they came (let's all say a collective prayer of thanks that the city of Philadelphia never let me become a Big Sister back in the day--who knows where that poor girl would be?) But I wonder if entering into this type of commitment--investing in someone's life in a tangible way--might not be the key to the love I woke up looking for this morning? Just a thought.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
questions + cute hiking boots = adventure
My cousin Katie came over for dinner last night. She's been living a life of adventure for the past few months, touring the country to interview fellow Notre Dame alums about the interesting things they've done since graduation (I think she also spent some time consoling them about this year's football team, but that's just a guess...) She told great stories from her travels, and even shared a vital tip about shopping for hiking boots in the boys department at Target (Size 7.5 womens=5.5 boys, in case you're wondering). I laughed for four hours.
I'm so proud of Katie for pulling this trip together--I mean, what's not to love about a gig that lets you meet dozens of new people and evaluate the relative merits of five West Coast cities in the span of a few short weeks? Very cool. Katie is my hero :)
Makes me wonder: If you could travel around the country, asking people questions, who would you talk to? What would you ask?
I'm so proud of Katie for pulling this trip together--I mean, what's not to love about a gig that lets you meet dozens of new people and evaluate the relative merits of five West Coast cities in the span of a few short weeks? Very cool. Katie is my hero :)
Makes me wonder: If you could travel around the country, asking people questions, who would you talk to? What would you ask?
Monday, February 11, 2008
Good Housekeeping
My new standard for when I've gone too long without dusting: We were watching the Celtics game yesterday afternoon and I couldn't tell the difference between the players...it was all just kind of a blur...
My friend Kristina cleans her whole house every Thursday. It's not a big deal for her, it's just something she does each week, like laundry or washing the dishes. I've always wanted to run my life on that (okay, any) sort of schedule. You know, to be the women who does the entire 57-part Clinque skincare system at night before bed, changes nail polish colors on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and is never too rushed to switch to a different handbag to coordinate with her outfit before leaving the house in the morning.
Maybe the problem is that I don't leave the house most mornings, and I'm not quite sure which nail polish/handbag combo goes best with my flannel pajamas. I'm never sure what any given day will hold (today started off with me staring at an unfortunate pile in the corner of our backyard, wondering what on earth THAT DOG could possibly have eaten...) so it's hard to get on a plan. Still though, I'm always looking for ideas.
I'm all set with the dusting (When Kevin Garnett and Glen Davis look like the same guy, it's time to pull out the Pledge) but I'd love to know: how do you decide when to clean?
My friend Kristina cleans her whole house every Thursday. It's not a big deal for her, it's just something she does each week, like laundry or washing the dishes. I've always wanted to run my life on that (okay, any) sort of schedule. You know, to be the women who does the entire 57-part Clinque skincare system at night before bed, changes nail polish colors on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and is never too rushed to switch to a different handbag to coordinate with her outfit before leaving the house in the morning.
Maybe the problem is that I don't leave the house most mornings, and I'm not quite sure which nail polish/handbag combo goes best with my flannel pajamas. I'm never sure what any given day will hold (today started off with me staring at an unfortunate pile in the corner of our backyard, wondering what on earth THAT DOG could possibly have eaten...) so it's hard to get on a plan. Still though, I'm always looking for ideas.
I'm all set with the dusting (When Kevin Garnett and Glen Davis look like the same guy, it's time to pull out the Pledge) but I'd love to know: how do you decide when to clean?
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Can't win if you don't play...
Okay, I can't bore you all with this funky sinus thing anymore, so I've got a better idea: I'm gonna make like Rosie O'Donnell, and give some stuff away!
You can thank Holly and Lynette for this idea. Feel free to stop by their blogs and say (to Holly) "PLEASE send Trish a copy of your compass book--can't you see that girl needs direction?" and (to Lynette) "While it's true you could take Trish in 1-on-1 wrestling, if she whipped out a baton, you'd be meatloaf."
Okay, now that that's settled, here's the contest:
Like Holly, I'm going to give away a copy of HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT every month between now and it's release at the end of April (or until this cold heals, whichever comes first). I'll have shiny, pretty (froggy) copies before you can get them online or in a bookstore, and I will mail them to the winners as soon as they come off the presses, complete with some lovely words of wisdom from THAT DOG, and perhaps a fun surprise.
All you have to do is drop a note in the comments, finishing this statement:
The best thing about me is that I'm _____________________________.
(For example, my answer might read: The best thing about me is that I've stopped blogging about my post nasal drip... Sort of. )
You can thank Holly and Lynette for this idea. Feel free to stop by their blogs and say (to Holly) "PLEASE send Trish a copy of your compass book--can't you see that girl needs direction?" and (to Lynette) "While it's true you could take Trish in 1-on-1 wrestling, if she whipped out a baton, you'd be meatloaf."
Okay, now that that's settled, here's the contest:
Like Holly, I'm going to give away a copy of HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT every month between now and it's release at the end of April (or until this cold heals, whichever comes first). I'll have shiny, pretty (froggy) copies before you can get them online or in a bookstore, and I will mail them to the winners as soon as they come off the presses, complete with some lovely words of wisdom from THAT DOG, and perhaps a fun surprise.
All you have to do is drop a note in the comments, finishing this statement:
The best thing about me is that I'm _____________________________.
(For example, my answer might read: The best thing about me is that I've stopped blogging about my post nasal drip... Sort of. )
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Wise words (not mine)
I'm still foggy, still in the land of the post-nasal drip, still wondering what the heck a histamine is and whether I need to be blocking it. How is it possible that I'm too unsophisticated to understand my own medicine cabinet??? ARGH.
On a brighter note, today is Super Tuesday, with primary voting going on all across the nation. I don't usually blog about politics, because it can lead me into an ugly pit of my own worst temptations: judgment, self-righteousness, delusions of grandeur...all rather inappropriate sentiments for a girl who can't tell the difference between Benadryl and Robitussin.
But I saw this post on David Kuo's blog today, and it made me happy. It's a wise reminder of what this election is...and what it isn't. So whether you're delighted with today's outcome or disappointed, here's some hope. And that, above all, is what I need when I think about what's going on in the world right now. Here's what David had to say:
"[T]he person who wins in November...will be powerless against the great challenges we really face. They cannot touch the emptiness too many Americans feel or the depression. They cannot touch broken marriages and broken people. They cannot stop obesity. They cannot touch loneliness. They cannot really stop abortions or domestic abuse and they cannot make broken people whole. They cannot touch the neighbor across the street who is old and who has no friends. The person who wins will not be America's savior.
This is an important thing to acknowledge for political and for spiritual reasons.
Politically it is important because if our expectations of the next president are too great we will only experience crushing disappointment and that man or woman will only be tossed out of office a failed president. We have to temper our expectations.
Spiritually it is important because we cannot fall into the tempter's trap of believing politics is the answer and that if we simply do politics better or with more passion we can save the world. Politics can't save the world. God can."
On a brighter note, today is Super Tuesday, with primary voting going on all across the nation. I don't usually blog about politics, because it can lead me into an ugly pit of my own worst temptations: judgment, self-righteousness, delusions of grandeur...all rather inappropriate sentiments for a girl who can't tell the difference between Benadryl and Robitussin.
But I saw this post on David Kuo's blog today, and it made me happy. It's a wise reminder of what this election is...and what it isn't. So whether you're delighted with today's outcome or disappointed, here's some hope. And that, above all, is what I need when I think about what's going on in the world right now. Here's what David had to say:
"[T]he person who wins in November...will be powerless against the great challenges we really face. They cannot touch the emptiness too many Americans feel or the depression. They cannot touch broken marriages and broken people. They cannot stop obesity. They cannot touch loneliness. They cannot really stop abortions or domestic abuse and they cannot make broken people whole. They cannot touch the neighbor across the street who is old and who has no friends. The person who wins will not be America's savior.
This is an important thing to acknowledge for political and for spiritual reasons.
Politically it is important because if our expectations of the next president are too great we will only experience crushing disappointment and that man or woman will only be tossed out of office a failed president. We have to temper our expectations.
Spiritually it is important because we cannot fall into the tempter's trap of believing politics is the answer and that if we simply do politics better or with more passion we can save the world. Politics can't save the world. God can."
Monday, February 04, 2008
Lumpy Bumpy
I have a cold. My tonsils look like somebody chewed them. I'm heading back to bed in the hopes that all the grossness will just go away.
I'll be back tomorrow to gush about my new favorite TV show ever. In the meantime, though, check out this amazing NYTimes article by Laura Dave, one of my favorite authors ever.
I'll be back tomorrow to gush about my new favorite TV show ever. In the meantime, though, check out this amazing NYTimes article by Laura Dave, one of my favorite authors ever.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
I know this much is true
Wanting to stave off another night of counting my own heartbeat, I went out for a run yesterday to see if burning off some adrenaline might help. The sun was shining, the temperature was in the upper 40s--honestly, it seemed like the perfect day.
Have you ever noticed that it's the seemingly perfect days that end up teaching you the tough lessons about life? Now, I'm no Oprah; there's not much I can claim to know for sure. But yesterday I added one more pearl of wisdom to my string. Are you ready? Here it is:
Never brush your teeth with minty toothpaste before running in a high wind.
I'm adding this to my other bit of hard-won life understanding (Never apply lip gloss before eating a powdered donut). Pretty soon, I'll have a collection :)
Have you ever noticed that it's the seemingly perfect days that end up teaching you the tough lessons about life? Now, I'm no Oprah; there's not much I can claim to know for sure. But yesterday I added one more pearl of wisdom to my string. Are you ready? Here it is:
Never brush your teeth with minty toothpaste before running in a high wind.
I'm adding this to my other bit of hard-won life understanding (Never apply lip gloss before eating a powdered donut). Pretty soon, I'll have a collection :)
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
No sheep, no sleep
I couldn't get to sleep last night. Or the night before that. My brain has been swimming with different projects I'm working on, and there doesn't seem to be enough time in the day to process all the input. So I lie awake in bed at night as a random succession of previously ignored questions wander through, demanding my attention:
Do Presidential candidates pick their own outfits?
If you let your cuticles grow, would they eventually cover your whole fingernail?
Could I make sushi?
I tried counting sheep, but stopped pretty quickly. Sheep are odd animals; they sort of freak me out. (I kept picturing them with goat eyes, which didn't help their cause.)
My four year old niece makes the most of her late nights when she can't sleep: she sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, she teaches her stuffed animals to swim. I admire her spirit of carpe diem (or carpe noctem, as the case may be). But singing would wake Steve, and THAT DOG doesn't swim under any circumstances, imaginary or otherwise.
So I checked my pulse, because I couldn't think of anything else to count. It didn't make me fall asleep, but I have a new gratitude for my pulmonary system.
I'm not sure I can do that for another three hours tonight, though, so I'll ask:
How do you get to sleep?
Do Presidential candidates pick their own outfits?
If you let your cuticles grow, would they eventually cover your whole fingernail?
Could I make sushi?
I tried counting sheep, but stopped pretty quickly. Sheep are odd animals; they sort of freak me out. (I kept picturing them with goat eyes, which didn't help their cause.)
My four year old niece makes the most of her late nights when she can't sleep: she sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, she teaches her stuffed animals to swim. I admire her spirit of carpe diem (or carpe noctem, as the case may be). But singing would wake Steve, and THAT DOG doesn't swim under any circumstances, imaginary or otherwise.
So I checked my pulse, because I couldn't think of anything else to count. It didn't make me fall asleep, but I have a new gratitude for my pulmonary system.
I'm not sure I can do that for another three hours tonight, though, so I'll ask:
How do you get to sleep?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Our "It Girl"!?!
I watched the Miss American Pageant last night on DVR. Now, just to be clear, I have no gripe with pageants. I've always thought they were kind of kitchy and fun. How else would we know that if you need to maintain a shiny, happy smile under bright lights and stressful conditions, the answer is to slick your front teeth with Vaseline? THAT's beauty news we can use.
Last night, though, the story was quite different. You see, they've modernized Miss America, trying to position the pageant as a search for the quintessential "It Girl" we'll all look to for inspiration. I'm not sure whose idea of modern they applied, though. Here were some of the scripted comments the contestants were forced to say while introducing themselves and their states (and no, I'm not making these up. Or even exaggerating):
Miss Delaware: "I'm from the birthplace of Henry Heimlich, the inventor of the Heimlich maneuver!"
Miss Wyoming: "We moved up our primaries, but nobody cared!"
Miss Nevada: "When you come here, your money stays here, and we thank you!"
Miss Utah: "We have the nation's highest birthrate...as long as the Osmonds don't move!"
Miss Indiana: "I'm here to prove that we have more than just corn!"
And my personal favorite:
Miss Texas: "We have a population of 21 million, not including the 60 million cattle!"
I guess that's one way to look at modern.
After that, the field was narrowed to 16, and we learned in little film clips that Miss Michigan can't ride a bicycle, and Miss Virginia's special talent is to put her foot behind her head (which she was then unable to do because of the tightness of her jeans.)
Up until this point, I was still captivated by the pageant, for one reason and one reason only: Miss Iowa was still in the running, and her talent is --wait for it!--BATON TWIRLING!!! You can imagine my excitement to see her sitting with the other top ten contestants, holding not one, not two, but THREE batons. People, let me pause here for a moment and explain that while there is much to make fun of in the world of twirling, you can't fake three batons. That's actual talent, and it's just incredible to watch.
So I fast forwarded through Miss Michigan belting out Somewhere Over the Rainbow because I couldn't stop giggling, imagining her true lyrics: "Somewhere over the rainbow, kids ride a bike! If kids ride over the rainbow, why then oh why can't I???" The next two contestants must have heard my laughter, because they sang in foreign languages I couldn't revise: Miss California performed an Italian opera piece, and Miss Indiana gyrated while singing in Spanish (You know, because there's more than corn in Indiana. There's Spanish!).
And that's when it happened, the worse decision in the history of my pageant watching life: They ELIMINATED Miss Iowa, right there in the middle of the talent segment!!! She never even got to twirl!!! I almost threw up. I mean, this was the ONLY one of the talent segments that had any sort of fun, any performance value, any spunky "It-girl" possibility. I hit the fast-forward button over and over and over again, hoping against hope they'd have some outtake from her planned routine, some farewell tribute to show us what we'd be missing. But NOTHING. Just Clinton from What Not to Wear (whose sole job was to placate the non-winners with a giant tray of donuts) ushering Miss Iowa offstage while commenting that earlier in the competition, her routine had brought the house down. Mmm Hmm. They allowed her to a tiny bit of twirling as they went to commercial, during which she threw in a triple toss turn around. That's the hardest trick I could ever do in my brief twirling career, and she threw it in as an afterthought in front of millions of people after being booted from the competition. I'm telling you, America, we were robbed.
I was too depressed to watch the rest, so I forwarded to the end. Miss Michigan won. If she hasn't chosen a platform yet, I'd suggest bicycle safety.
Last night, though, the story was quite different. You see, they've modernized Miss America, trying to position the pageant as a search for the quintessential "It Girl" we'll all look to for inspiration. I'm not sure whose idea of modern they applied, though. Here were some of the scripted comments the contestants were forced to say while introducing themselves and their states (and no, I'm not making these up. Or even exaggerating):
Miss Delaware: "I'm from the birthplace of Henry Heimlich, the inventor of the Heimlich maneuver!"
Miss Wyoming: "We moved up our primaries, but nobody cared!"
Miss Nevada: "When you come here, your money stays here, and we thank you!"
Miss Utah: "We have the nation's highest birthrate...as long as the Osmonds don't move!"
Miss Indiana: "I'm here to prove that we have more than just corn!"
And my personal favorite:
Miss Texas: "We have a population of 21 million, not including the 60 million cattle!"
I guess that's one way to look at modern.
After that, the field was narrowed to 16, and we learned in little film clips that Miss Michigan can't ride a bicycle, and Miss Virginia's special talent is to put her foot behind her head (which she was then unable to do because of the tightness of her jeans.)
Up until this point, I was still captivated by the pageant, for one reason and one reason only: Miss Iowa was still in the running, and her talent is --wait for it!--BATON TWIRLING!!! You can imagine my excitement to see her sitting with the other top ten contestants, holding not one, not two, but THREE batons. People, let me pause here for a moment and explain that while there is much to make fun of in the world of twirling, you can't fake three batons. That's actual talent, and it's just incredible to watch.
So I fast forwarded through Miss Michigan belting out Somewhere Over the Rainbow because I couldn't stop giggling, imagining her true lyrics: "Somewhere over the rainbow, kids ride a bike! If kids ride over the rainbow, why then oh why can't I???" The next two contestants must have heard my laughter, because they sang in foreign languages I couldn't revise: Miss California performed an Italian opera piece, and Miss Indiana gyrated while singing in Spanish (You know, because there's more than corn in Indiana. There's Spanish!).
And that's when it happened, the worse decision in the history of my pageant watching life: They ELIMINATED Miss Iowa, right there in the middle of the talent segment!!! She never even got to twirl!!! I almost threw up. I mean, this was the ONLY one of the talent segments that had any sort of fun, any performance value, any spunky "It-girl" possibility. I hit the fast-forward button over and over and over again, hoping against hope they'd have some outtake from her planned routine, some farewell tribute to show us what we'd be missing. But NOTHING. Just Clinton from What Not to Wear (whose sole job was to placate the non-winners with a giant tray of donuts) ushering Miss Iowa offstage while commenting that earlier in the competition, her routine had brought the house down. Mmm Hmm. They allowed her to a tiny bit of twirling as they went to commercial, during which she threw in a triple toss turn around. That's the hardest trick I could ever do in my brief twirling career, and she threw it in as an afterthought in front of millions of people after being booted from the competition. I'm telling you, America, we were robbed.
I was too depressed to watch the rest, so I forwarded to the end. Miss Michigan won. If she hasn't chosen a platform yet, I'd suggest bicycle safety.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sunday Salon (posted a few days early)
The pile of books on my nightstand looks like that wedding poem for brides: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.... I'm not sure why this strikes me as so funny this morning, but there you have it: a glimpse into the mind of Trish between her first and second cups of coffee.
Since you don't care what I have for lunch here's a rundown of what I'm reading:
Something Old: Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton.
My friend Genius only reads dead authors. As a living author, this concerns me (I think we've reached a compromise of sorts that will allow his wife to read my book aloud from the next room when it comes out,"reading" and "overhearing" being two entirely different things) but the deeper I dig into Orthodoxy, the more I understand Genius' point. Chesterton--who possessed a fabulous, self-deprecating sense of humor--published this self-proclaimed "slovenly autobiography" back in 1908. In it, he describes all the same angsty struggles over faith and meaning and philosophy we think are so new today, revealing the truth: humanity has been staggering down the same dark roads for more than a century, so it's probably okay to stop worrying that the Da Vinci Code or some comment by Ann Coulter is going to topple civilization. God is bigger than we think, and he probably has a plan :)
Something New: Not that You Asked by Steve Almond
The piece about his attempts to care for his newborn daughter made me laugh so hard a high-pitched squeal came out of the back of my throat. The next time you're in a bookstore, pick up this book. (Just make sure you set down your double latte before you open it).
Something Borrowed: They're all borrowed, truth be told. Have I mentioned that I HEART my local library? I'm still astounded that a place exists where you can go in, pick ALL THE BOOKS YOU WANT and take them home for free. I'm quite grateful that my biggest obsession is books; I'm fairly certain no local municipality funds a program like this for shoes or purses.
Something Blue: Someday My Prince Will Come by Jerramy Fine
Okay, only the sky is blue on the cover....but this looks like a fun book! I mean, a memoir by a girl who has spent her life convinced she's going to marry the Prince of England? As a child who believed firmly that I was going to make a living as a professional baton twirler, I can appreciate this kind of story! As my new friend Chesterton points out in Orthodoxy (see how I'm bringing this full circle?), it's imagination and mystery that keep us sane. It seems like Miss Fine has a good dose of both, which makes her my kind of girl. I hope I get to meet her someday :)
Since you don't care what I have for lunch here's a rundown of what I'm reading:
Something Old: Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton.
My friend Genius only reads dead authors. As a living author, this concerns me (I think we've reached a compromise of sorts that will allow his wife to read my book aloud from the next room when it comes out,"reading" and "overhearing" being two entirely different things) but the deeper I dig into Orthodoxy, the more I understand Genius' point. Chesterton--who possessed a fabulous, self-deprecating sense of humor--published this self-proclaimed "slovenly autobiography" back in 1908. In it, he describes all the same angsty struggles over faith and meaning and philosophy we think are so new today, revealing the truth: humanity has been staggering down the same dark roads for more than a century, so it's probably okay to stop worrying that the Da Vinci Code or some comment by Ann Coulter is going to topple civilization. God is bigger than we think, and he probably has a plan :)
Something New: Not that You Asked by Steve Almond
The piece about his attempts to care for his newborn daughter made me laugh so hard a high-pitched squeal came out of the back of my throat. The next time you're in a bookstore, pick up this book. (Just make sure you set down your double latte before you open it).
Something Borrowed: They're all borrowed, truth be told. Have I mentioned that I HEART my local library? I'm still astounded that a place exists where you can go in, pick ALL THE BOOKS YOU WANT and take them home for free. I'm quite grateful that my biggest obsession is books; I'm fairly certain no local municipality funds a program like this for shoes or purses.
Something Blue: Someday My Prince Will Come by Jerramy Fine
Okay, only the sky is blue on the cover....but this looks like a fun book! I mean, a memoir by a girl who has spent her life convinced she's going to marry the Prince of England? As a child who believed firmly that I was going to make a living as a professional baton twirler, I can appreciate this kind of story! As my new friend Chesterton points out in Orthodoxy (see how I'm bringing this full circle?), it's imagination and mystery that keep us sane. It seems like Miss Fine has a good dose of both, which makes her my kind of girl. I hope I get to meet her someday :)
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Another clue in the mystery I don't want to solve (or be involved with in any way, really)
When I took the trash out to our backyard yesterday, I found this heavy, elegant tumbler (it might even be crystal) abandoned in the snow. It was just sitting there, as if someone set it down before dashing off to another appointment. The only thing I can think of is that The Squirrel is back, and now he's serving cocktails on the veranda. This is not good newsI'm not sure if this abandoned drink is a philosophical statement about his glass being half full (although now that it's frozen over I'd guess that message is lost), or a George Thoroughgood-style admission about why he drinks alone. Regardless, you'd think he'd want a more swanky place to toss back his single malt than the patch of grass next to our trash cans.
(On a marginally-related but no less horrifying note, as I Googled for the proper descriptors for this piece of abandoned glassware I found this delightful video. This should raise the sales Nalgene bottles exponentially).
Friday, January 18, 2008
Finding the fun
Two things that are making my day today:
1. David Kuo's blog on how his dog's persistent hope for treats--even when it's been a long time since that hope was rewarded--is a great model for prayer. (As THAT DOG will attest, you just never know when all that persistence will pay off and some yummy morsel beyond your wildest dreams will land on the floor right between your paws).
2. No One Cares What You Had For Lunch: 100 Ideas For Your Blog. The title alone has had me laughing for over an hour. I'm off to make a baloney sandwich (not that you care) and learn to write world-changing posts. I'll be skipping the suggestion that I blog entries from my old journals, though. Nothing good could ever come of that.
1. David Kuo's blog on how his dog's persistent hope for treats--even when it's been a long time since that hope was rewarded--is a great model for prayer. (As THAT DOG will attest, you just never know when all that persistence will pay off and some yummy morsel beyond your wildest dreams will land on the floor right between your paws).
2. No One Cares What You Had For Lunch: 100 Ideas For Your Blog. The title alone has had me laughing for over an hour. I'm off to make a baloney sandwich (not that you care) and learn to write world-changing posts. I'll be skipping the suggestion that I blog entries from my old journals, though. Nothing good could ever come of that.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Birthday fun
Today is my birthday!I woke up this morning to find yellow post-its stuck all around our condo, on which Steve had written things like "I love you!" and "I'm glad you were born!"
My favorite, though, was the one I found in the refrigerator, stuck to the bottle of milk he knew I'd be reaching for to make my morning coffee. It read: "Baton Twirlers are the coolest!"
You can't argue with the truth :)
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Trish's messed up dishes
My dishes are falling apart. You'd think that would only happen if we were using them on a consistent, demanding basis, churning out the tasty options from Rachel Ray and Paula Deen with some sort of regularity. That, unfortunately, is not the case. And yet my dishes all look like somebody punched them, with ugly cracks in the glaze that turn a appalling shade of brownish gray when subjected to the heat or chill of actual food. Apparently, Steve and I must have been shopping in the "for decorative use only" section of Crate & Barrel when we made this choice. Except that we weren't; I checked.
We've learned to live with this. We're not fancy people, and a healthy serving of pasta covers most of the cracks right up. But this morning, things took a turn for the worse. I poured that all-important first cup of coffee, only to see my beloved, precious liquid seep out from a crack in the side of the mug, leak across the counter, and spill onto the floor. THAT DOG licked it up; she's been pacing ever since.
There, in my morning haze, the only two lines I remember from law school contracts class surged to the top of my brain (excited to finally--finally!-- be put to use): "What about the implied warranty of merchantability? " I demanded. "And it's all-important sidekick, the implied warranty of fitness for a particular purpose?" Clearly, C&B should have known that I was buying these mugs to hold coffee, and it doesn't seem to be too much to ask that their product be up for the task.
(That's right, folks: ten years after such quick legal thinking might have been helpful, mine kicks in. That's $100,000 well spent, if you ask me.)
Of course, the mere fact that I've linked to Wikipedia to explain what these two warranties mean makes it rather clear that I'm unlikely to take legal action over my disappointing dishes. I'm not sure what I'll do, actually, other than swing by Target later today to buy a new coffee mug. (Gotta keep the basics covered before moving on to the bigger issues.)
I'd write more, but THAT DOG is jumping back and forth across my lap in a caffeinated frenzy. Thanks Crate & Barrel. The next time my young & exuberant niece and nephew come to visit, we'll be stopping by one of your showrooms to say hello. Count on it :)
We've learned to live with this. We're not fancy people, and a healthy serving of pasta covers most of the cracks right up. But this morning, things took a turn for the worse. I poured that all-important first cup of coffee, only to see my beloved, precious liquid seep out from a crack in the side of the mug, leak across the counter, and spill onto the floor. THAT DOG licked it up; she's been pacing ever since.
There, in my morning haze, the only two lines I remember from law school contracts class surged to the top of my brain (excited to finally--finally!-- be put to use): "What about the implied warranty of merchantability? " I demanded. "And it's all-important sidekick, the implied warranty of fitness for a particular purpose?" Clearly, C&B should have known that I was buying these mugs to hold coffee, and it doesn't seem to be too much to ask that their product be up for the task.
(That's right, folks: ten years after such quick legal thinking might have been helpful, mine kicks in. That's $100,000 well spent, if you ask me.)
Of course, the mere fact that I've linked to Wikipedia to explain what these two warranties mean makes it rather clear that I'm unlikely to take legal action over my disappointing dishes. I'm not sure what I'll do, actually, other than swing by Target later today to buy a new coffee mug. (Gotta keep the basics covered before moving on to the bigger issues.)
I'd write more, but THAT DOG is jumping back and forth across my lap in a caffeinated frenzy. Thanks Crate & Barrel. The next time my young & exuberant niece and nephew come to visit, we'll be stopping by one of your showrooms to say hello. Count on it :)
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