life

A sense of self.

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I am not a morning person.

So this weekend I had to peel myself out of bed early on Saturday, sleepily stumble into Starbucks for a grande latte and cram down some breakfast-on-the-run, all in the name of education. As you can imagine, I was not looking forward to it.

Luckily, though, I didn’t have to double fist the caffeine like I thought I would. It was actually really interesting.

Leadership is the focus of my business school program, so we all have to take this year-long seminar that meets all day on four Saturdays throughout the year. They’ll put us through just about every personality test and assessment that exists, and I’ve been told by other students that I will learn more about myself than I ever wanted to know. But I’m looking forward to embracing that knowledge — this class was the key seller to me when I was researching the program, and I’m hoping the self-actualization will tell me what I really should be doing with my life. I know this can’t be it. Keep reading »

Winter wonderland.

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It’s a rare snow day here in the South. Well, a snow day to everyone who isn’t “on call” or “working remotely” or “tethered to their BlackBerry.” Not that that contains an ounce of bitterness.

We have about 6 inches on the ground already and that will be covered by a layer of ice tonight, which should make driving really fun over the next few days. A couple of fools from my neighborhood have already tried to drive out today, and I really hope they’re headed to help at the hospital, not just traipsing out for errands. Hey, the mall delayed opening until 10 a.m. this morning. What a relief.

It’s no secret that we southerners don’t react well to snow — one flake falls, the banks and schools close and we all furiously speed to the grocery store to buy bread, milk and eggs. (To make french toast while we’re snowed in?) I for one am heeding the warning to stay put. Twist my arm. Keep reading »

Another resolution.

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In August 2010, I launched this blog because I just enjoy putting words on a page and I needed a creative outlet to prevent my brain turning to mush. Plus, I like telling you ridiculous stories, sharing a memory or a recipe or writing to work out how I feel about something.

I promised in the beginning that it wouldn’t be interesting or even thought-provoking, but I hope I haven’t bored you to tears. I mean, my parents don’t even read this blog, and I’m the only kid they’ve got. So I appreciate the three of you who do read it. More than I can say.

On my recent resolutions for 2011 list, I neglected to add “Write more” since I don’t want to put any undue pressure on myself. I write a blog entry when I feel like it or when I have something to say. But I don’t want to have to write something, and I’m sure you don’t want to read that anyway. Keep reading »

Back to life, back to reality.

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Happy 2011!

I hope you are all getting back into the swing of life after the holidays. Mondays are a slap in the face under normal circumstances, but they’re so much worse after two weeks of travel and time off. I’m pretty sure I’m already re-exhausted.

Did you all have a fun New Year’s Eve? I have to state that I am usually no fan of that holiday — I’ve literally done everything you can think of to “celebrate,” from throwing a party at my house to paying $300 to stand in a loud, crowded NYC club, to dining out, to sitting on my couch (or even sleeping). It’s always a little bit of a letdown. This year I rang in 2011 with good friends, lots of cheer and a few bottles of wine and champagne — a perfect night, and the best NYE in quite awhile. 2011 sounds like an odd year, and it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but I survived my flight home on 1/1/11 in seat 11A, so I took that as a positive harbinger of things to come. Keep reading »

The year the rat ate Christmas.

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While I was growing up, my grandparents lived on a farm in Middle-of-Nowhere, South Carolina. A few days before Christmas one year, there was an outbreak of large rats, who entered the house through some vents and happily scurried around through the walls. (I should note that this was not common; there were always a lot of “creatures” around, but never, ever rats.) My uncle sealed up the entry holes and put out some poison pellets, so by the time my mom and I arrived for Christmas, the whole ordeal was winding down. Or so we thought.

On Christmas Eve, we added our gifts under the tree. I had found some sugar-free Werther’s candies for Mom; she had bought and wrapped up a silver charm bracelet for me.

Come Christmas morning, after the explosion of wrapping paper and ribbons settled, I noticed that the Werther’s bag was missing. Mom also looked perplexed, since she knew I hadn’t yet opened one important gift. That box didn’t seem to be under the tree either. Keep reading »

An ode to penmanship.

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While perusing Twitter today, I found a really interesting article about the importance of writing by hand. That’s kind of ironic considering a) I read the story online and b) I’m talking about it by typing into my blog. Oops. The gist of the article is that writing by hand develops cognitive skills, so all of our typing and texting may be endangering kids’ intelligence. Isn’t that scary?

I am totally reliant on email and texting now, but I didn’t start using email until my freshman year of college, when we were required by my English professor to sign up for the school email accounts. Back then, email was this little, blank DOS screen with a black blinking cursor. Even so, I used it to keep up with all of my friends who went to other schools. I even met people on an early listserv who are still friends today. (Then I was an early adopter; now I have become old and skeptical of emerging technologies.)

A couple of years out of school, when I was sitting in front of email/Internet at work all day, I started to think about how little I wrote anything to anyone by hand. I mean, I keep and treasure every scrap of mail I’ve ever received from my loved ones. If you sent me a Christmas card in 1998, I probably still have it. So, I can go back and read the letters and cards that my grandparents sent to me or the (hilarious) letters I sent to my mom while I was at camp. A printout of an email or online card, no matter the sentimentality, just isn’t the same. Keep reading »

'Tis the season.

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Angie and I bought season tickets to the Blumenthal theatre season this year, so we spent Friday night enjoying “White Christmas,” the stage musical version of the Bing Crosby-Rosemary Clooney movie. The production was just okay, but it did kickstart me into the Christmas spirit. My days before Christmas are a mashup of final exams, furious and stressful present shopping, wrapping, mailing, packing, driving, baking, etc. Sometimes you just have to relax and watch a good movie.

During this time of year, I’m not so inspired by Christmas music, but I love a good Christmas flick. Here are a few of my favorite holiday movies that put me in the Christmas mood. Keep reading »

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

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I wasn’t going to get a Christmas tree this year — big exams on the horizon, haven’t bought half my presents, will be traveling for Christmas anyway. Bah humbug.

But Santa knew that I should have a tree. I opened my front door today, and look what Santa brought me!

I think those exams can wait while I deck the halls a bit.

Thanks, Santa!

Sick of being sick.

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Hello, readers. I’ve unexpectedly been away for a long, eventful couple of weeks. Mostly I’ve been knocked down by the worst cold known to man that won’t respond to antibiotics, Mucinex, antihistamine, Sudafed, Robitussin, cough drops, lemon tea (see below) or even my old friend Nyquil. I’ve spent much of the last two weeks laying around in my bed or on the couch partially buried in a mound of used tissues. (You’re welcome for that lovely mental image.) When I was little, my family went to these Saturday library sales,  and I found an old book called “The Sick of Being Sick Book.” Inside were dozens of games you can play while bedridden, like shooting a basket from across the room with your balls of Kleenex or cough drop wrappers. I sure could have used that self-entertainment recently, and I wonder where that book could be …

In the midst of all of that, my mom had unexpected, emergency surgery the week before Thanksgiving. I ran down there in time to check her out of the hospital and wait on her for a couple of days while she regained her strength. (Well, until I became the patient.) I was completely amazed at the generosity of family and friends, a whole community that came out of the woodwork to help us. They cooked meals and even organized a food delivery schedule to get us through Thanksgiving. They’ll pick up again with more deliveries on Monday. Keep reading »

And so it begins.

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Thanksgiving is a mere two weeks away, and the Black Friday planning is already kicking into gear.

My father is sending me www.blackfriday.info emails to update me on who has pre-released their Black Friday deals. By the time the day arrives, we should have a well-organized and choreographed plan ready to set in action.

Black Friday shopping with my dad is a recent, yet firmly entrenched tradition, and we approach it with the stealth of The Italian Job. Before stores started publishing their ads in advance, we would gather all the newspaper inserts on Thursday night, circle our target items, prioritize the importance of obtaining that product before it sold out and map our stores in the order of attack. Keep reading »