Archive for the ‘Daily Blog Challenge’ Category

Wow… this blogging everyday thing is proving hard.

So last night (tonight according to the post time) I went to HH with old college buddy, MC. As we work only a couple blocks away, we make an effort to meet up for lunch or a drink every once in a while.

So last night we are at the pub with pint in hand, when we hear this deep south accent behind us. And I don’t just mean like one guy, I mean there were like a clan of them engulfing our space at the bar. Before I can turn around, one guy pokes in next to me and orders “4 Coors Liiiights… na make that 5, na 6.” I smirked and thought, ahhhh, here we go.

I obviously made a point to catch the guy’s eye, who offered to buy us drinks, and then I turned around to see guy #2 with his long shaggy haircut and matching moustache wearing a leather Harley Davidson jacket. It was classic.

It was a matter of minutes before they started speaking to us and asking about where to go, what to see. Apparently they are part of some business group or something down in Alabama—one owned a realtor’s, or was it an insurance business?—and the other worked at/for Talladega Superspeedway. All MC had to do was mention that he wanted to watch a race one day, and the business cards were out and Mr Moustache was promising to hook him up when he came down.

We ended up chatting with the old fellows for a while and provided some NY restaurant suggestions in exchange for a round of beer. There was one guy—The Doctor, as another referred to him as—with an iPhone so we were able to get them mapped out well enough so they’d at least make their train at Grand Central tomorrow. Apparently, The Doctor was kinda in charge since “he is a Dr and is smart.” Ooooook…

Needless to say, NY is full of “strangers” (Note: NaBloPoMo) and you never know who you are going to meet. I could have honestly hung out with them all night. They were hysterical… in a ‘laughing with them, but add an extra chuckle at their accents’ kinda way.

After a while they ventured off to chow down on crappy appetizer platters, and MC turned to ask me if we should mention to them that we were democrats and that we voted for Obama. I Shhhhhh’d him instantly to which he said, “No? What about telling them that we’re pro-choice?”


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Yeah, so I already almost missed Day #2.
Apparently my heart isn’t in this as much as it was last time… and I also have very little to say. Nevertheless, I am here.

Tonight I had a wonderful experience—well, at least one that I am going to publicly write about.

I shopped at Whole Foods. (NaBloPoMo Note: Before tonight, I was a “stranger” to Whole Foods.)

Even from the quick ‘in-and-out’ trip I made, I can agree that Whole Foods is the most fabulous, versatile, well-stocked supermarket in NYC… (and I say NYC because Wegman’s exists out of the tri-state area, and, well, we all know that beats all other supermarkets in the world, hands down!… well, it may have some competition from Sainsbury’s but that’s up for debate.)

Someone once told me upon their first trip into Whole Foods, “I could run up my credit card here on cheese alone.” And I now understand. But not only was the cheese department overwhelmingly-orgasmical, so was their international food selection (you know how I love anything that doesn’t come from this country!) as well as the beer cooler! OMG, it was honestly too much to handle, so when my eye fell on something that someone had recently recommended, I just grabbed it and ran before my brain could comprehend the intensity of the decision I had just faced.

What did throw me off was the check-out process. Not the ‘scan the food and put it in the bag’ process, but the ‘waiting in line for your number to be called’ process. Three lines, three different colors, an overhead computer screen with flashing numbers on different colored sections of the screen… it really wasn’t that difficult—except for a new-comer like me. Every time a new number flashed, and was spoken by the computerized Wizard of Oz voice, I reached for my basket only to notice someone in another line plowing ahead with extreme confidence in their decision to move to the register number announced. Being the trusting person I am, I trusted that they knew what the hell they were doing and stood back and waited for my chance. After three or so gos, I realized I needed to wait until a number flashed on the color designated to my line. Ahhhh, there you go ELH.

But other than the check-out confusion, I was successful. And maybe it was the energy of Whole Foods or the ridiculously yummy ingredients I bought, but the chicken curry jacket potatoes came out gorrrrrgeous, as the Brits would say.

Maybe I should consider opening a jackat potato stand in NYC.
If I could learn to control myself around baked beans and chedder cheese, I might succeed.

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Every year my birthday gets me down. I always spend weeks hyping it up, talking as if I’m a big deal, and then the day comes and my smile fades, tail stops wagging, and I shut the F up.

I have no idea why, but without fail, I fall silent at turning another year older…
Until 2010.

On Saturday I turned 28. Twenty-eight officially puts me in the late-20s range, one step closer to the what-is-supposed-to-be-dreaded number 30. Thing is, I’m kinda looking forward to 30. I’m not looking forward to aging for the obvious reasons of progressively more violent and intolerable hangovers, and slower response time and less agility when throwing myself down a mountain… but I’ll fight it… mind over matter, eh?

I’m looking forward to it because they say your 30s are the best years of your life. Who says this? You know, “they;” the collective undefined group we attribute claims to when we have no valid reason for stating whatever it is we are stating.

Well, I believe “they,” and for good reasons, too. 1) Actual people whose opinions I respect have supported this statement. 2) And my intuition says, “30. good!”

But hold on: I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here. This weekend was 28, and possibly one of the best birthdays I ever had. And again, for good reasons.

It kicked off with happy [six] hours. I once again collected those from all facets of my life that I hold near and dear to celebrate with me. The most difficult part of the night was trying to explain how everyone was connected.

Saturday I headed up to VT with the girls—JMay and Triple A.

Saturday Night: Vermont. Cherry Vodka. Brownies. Hot tub. ‘Nuff said.

(Side story to fit the NaBloPoMo theme of “strangers:” Sitting in the hot tub amidst piles of snow with drink in hand, I thanked SBing-CG for his hospitality and declared that the weekend was owning up be one of the best birthdays ever. At the time I was sitting in the hot tub with SBing-CG and two ppl who up until two hours earlier were essentially strangers. Yet, new people, new energy, all good. (And yes, since my book apparently isn’t writing itself, I’m NaBloPoMo’ing again to try to kickstart the habit.))

Sunday: Stratton. Snow. Snowboard. No more fractured bones. Good day.

Car ride home with JMay and Triple A… bringing us to up near 10 hours of road-trip QT time.

Being absolutely spoiled rotten by JMay and Triple A.

All in all, it was a great time, great weekend, fabulous company and top-choice activities. What more could a girl ask for…

Happy Birthday to me! 29 here I come!

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One of the benefits of working in Manhattan is that a 15-minute subway ride can inject a good dose of entertainment into an otherwise ordinarily dull day.

Today, for instance, I got on the A, instead of my usual route, at the same time as a man begging for help to buy his child new shoes. It actually did bring tears to my eyes: The man (allegedly) had fallen victim to a stroke that left the one side of his body paralyzed. Lacking sufficient benefits his family could barely pay their rent and utilities, and the youngest son needed new shoes. He recited the letter – along with the formatting and punctuation – that the child’s teacher sent home about his “inappropriate (underlined twice) footwear for school and winter (underlined twice), (followed by two exclamation points).”

It was hard to make out all he said over the staticky rap music coming from the man beside me’s cell phone – and his raspy attempt to sing along. I think he felt his $1 contribution to the begging family man made up for the disturbance he was causing the remaining passengers.

But I have faith that begging man will land on his feet: A god-preaching woman, who I will endearing refer to as “lunatic,” was at the other end of the car. She warmed up her prayers while he begged and by the time he made it to her performance area, she was ready to save him. Complete with feet-stomping, hand-clapping and quite possibly an exorcism, she prayed to the lord for his soul.

And I… laughed at the obscenity of my ride home. I think I’m gonna start taking the A train more often.

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I came across a great blog entry today. The blog, The Rules of Breakup, is something I stumbled upon through one my many blog-perusing sessions—I think it was referenced in nine. (And I note, since they both blog anonymously, that I do not know either of them personally—although after all the blog entries I kinda feel like I do.)

Nine is something I came across during my last breakup, when I was desperate to find some form of camaraderie on my journey. She’s spot on with her analysis of the process she’s going through—and while our relationships were very different, we seem to hit the same obstacles at the same time.

Anyways, both of these blogs, although they have a different voice and personality, are well-written and insightful. With that said, in a recent entry on The Rules of Breakup, she recites (rewrites?) a passage from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet that I like…

…and I quote:

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his feathers may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so he is for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height
and caresses your tenderest branches,
So shall he descend to your roots
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only
love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you to cover yourself and pass out of love’s door,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh,
but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears.

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I once dreamt of my death. I didn’t experience the act of dying in my dream, but rather I was already dead overseeing the scenario as an angel or ghost would.

The most disturbing part was that I had been murdered by my significant other. I was overseeing his family and friends—who weren’t aware of his role in my death—consoling him while he battled the guilt of the situation.

It was tragic. Yet, I wasn’t scared nor angry. I knew it had been an accident—an argument that went too far—and I didn’t want him to pay the price. I felt bad for him for having lost his love at the hands of his temper. That was punishment enough; I didn’t want him to fall at the hands of the legal system.

Almost one year later my girlfriend confided that she dreamt about me. And although it took some coaxing—she knows how much credit I give my dreams—she shared it with me: I had been murdered by my boyfriend. The police were investigating the case but didn’t have any evidence it was him.

I came to her; as a ghost, angel or voice I am not sure, but I confessed his mistake and begged her to keep it a secret. I watched her as she led the police astray from the clues that would have told his secret.  She was not happy about doing it, but it was my last wish.

As odd as this was, it so much resembled the dream I experienced so many months beforehand. Both scenarios too clear and vivid in the subconscious of their hosts to ignore.

With that said (you disturbed yet), I have a funny story.

I recently met a guy who I’ve been bantering with. One afternoon, after a bit of flirting, I disclosed to this same friend that he ‘seemed very keen and wanted to see me later.’ I followed that e-mail with ‘he actually wants to have lunch today.’

Her response (and I quote): “WHAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT??? Are you f%^&*&G Kidding me?!?!?!?! What is his problem! Dude, stay away from him entirely. Please!! I beg you!! If you never want to listen to me ever again about anything that is fine! Just listen to me about this. Please!”

With shock I replied, “Why? I mean… ok, maybe he seems a bit keen, but you sound like you are implying that he may be a psycho! Do you have a bad feeling about me hanging out with him?”

She said, more adamant than I have ever seen her before, “I’m afraid he might try to kill you! I’m NOT EVEN KIDDING!!!”

This obviously required a phone call to which I exclaimed, “Seriously? You have that bad of a feeling? Where did this come from?”


Me: Wait a minute, just to clarify, who are you talking about?

Her: Who are YOU talking about?

Me: [name of guy]

Her: Oooooohhh. I was talking about the guy from your dreams. Yeah, you should totally go out with him. I have a great feeling about him… sorry for the miscommunication!

What a miscommunication it was. There I was, deliberating how to explain to this guy that I had to cancel our plans because my girlfriend had a feeling he might try to kill me. What an icebreaker that would be!

With that said, HAPPY HALLOWEEN… I hope the holiday brings only tricks and treats and no dreams of death!

Over and out for the last day of the NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) challenge—it’s been fun. Stay posted for updates on NaNoWriMo!

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So since the 31st is Halloween, and I’ve already scheduled a spooky death-related halloween entry, I will use today to congratulate myself and thank you all!

As of tomorrow I will have successfully completed NaBloPoMo for the month of October (duh!). I have posted a blog entry every day since October 1st. Some have been ridiculously boring, some insightful (I hope) and some just stupid—but funny—and inappropriate. And for that matter, some I didn’t even write, but RB’d them and added commentary.


I did it.

And best of all, I am now in the habit of writing everyday, just in time for NaNoWriMo. Therefore, starting Sunday, the “beast”—what my dad named my new laptop—and I will be embarking on the 50,000-word, 30-day challenge. (Ready Caitlin? Woo hoo!)

I had planned on doing a lot more reading and preparing before this point, but as always, those plans failed—I always plan on doing a lot more than I have time for; it’s my way of life!

I am happy to say that in this past month I have acquired a following. Not a HUGE following, but hey, I’m being read, no? I actually have been clicked-thru from Google Reader on occasion, so someone out there has RSS’d me! woo hoo! Thank you RSSer!

Anyways, thank you for reading and come back as I will be talking about my progress with NaNoWriMo over the next month.

50,000 words in 30 days… that’s 1,666.67 words a day. A very easy word count goal for my brain, it’s just finding the one hour a day it’ll take to get them on paper.

Over and out for the second to last time this month!

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