Archive for November, 2005


I have a secret. Guess what it is.

And Turkey Makes Three

It’s looking like this Thanksgiving is just going to be me, mom, and a turkey breast. That’s pretty much OK with me. Sometimes I wish I were more family oriented, but for most of my life my family has been scattered across the country. You get used to it in self-defense, you make your family where you are. And it’s still good. Plus, my mom is the best cook in the world and I don’t have to share this way.

Here’s hoping all you Americans have a wonderful day, however you choose to spend it, and with whomever you end up spending it.

P.S. This doesn’t mean *cough*monkeybro*cough* that I would mind talking to family on Thanksgiving.

My Sentiments Exactly

Day 3

Now that I have begun my 30th year on this planet, I’d like to impart some of the wisdom I have gained over the years.

1) Just because you have been watching the Olympics, does not mean that you can lay a 2×4 from your bed to your dresser and use it as a balance beam. It will snap in half before you even get near the middle and a sharp wood shard will rake the back of your leg. (Wisdom circa age 8)

2) When you are on a swing set, be sure to gauge how far the resting swing was from the ground before you rise in the air and lean your head back. This precaution will greatly aid in the prevention of you scraping your bottom lip across dirt and rocks. (Wisdom circa age 10)

3) While in gym class, do not attempt a cartwheel in pants that are too small. The likely outcome of this endeavor is that you will split your pants up the crotch and the only pair available from the school nurse will be banana yellow bellbottoms from the 70s. (Wisdom circa age 11)

4) When you have a band concert, more cork grease does not necessarily equate to better clarinet playing. What it does, is pretty much assure that while you’re walking up the stage stairs, the bottom of your clarinet will slip off and roll down the stairs. You will then have to retrieve it by bending over in front of the entire audience. (Wisdom circa age 12)

5) When your brother takes you to the parking lot so you can practice driving and parallel parking, assure that the window is indeed rolled down before you try to stick your head out of it to get a better look in the mirror. Namely because your brother will never, ever, let you live this moment down. (Wisdom circa age 17)

6) Just because there wasn’t anyone parked in the driveway behind you when you went to bed, does not mean there is no one parked behind you when you back out in the morning. Therefore, always defrost your rear window. (Wisdom circa age 20)

7) Don’t wear a large back pack when trying to get into a revolving door. Especially if said revolving door is in Trump Tower. Be careful of luggage in general (see last post on turnstiles). (Wisdom circa age 28)

My Birthday Post

Monday is my birthday, but I took the day off work, so I won’t be posting. I tried and tried to come up with something deep and meaningful, some probing birthday question. All for naught. So instead I have decided to share with you, my birthday audience, one of my shining moments.

I actually made Becky promise not to tell this story, but I think the time has come for it to be revealed.

It was the end of a brilliant long weekend in New York. With Becky and Wes (and various other bloggers at various other times) by my side, nothing went wrong. I didn’t get lost on the subway, I didn’t get mugged. . .none of those things that we country folk worry about when we go to the big city happened. All that was left was for me to get back to the train station. Becky kindly volunteered to ride the subway with me, so we headed out, with me dragging my huge rolly suitcase behind. The streets of New York are no place to wheel a huge suitcase, as I had learned on my trip to the hotel. People were getting really annoyed with me. I was about ready to ditch the stupid thing after lugging it down the subway stairs for one last time.

I stepped up to the electronic ticket machine and for some reason I couldn’t figure out how to get a ticket for just one ride. I have this thing…I’d rather pay extra, drive to the next exit, eat something I didn’t order, etc. rather than have everyone stop their lives while I figure out what I was supposed to be doing. So I just bought an unlimited ride one-day ticket for $7.

So then Becky strides through the turnstile, being encumbered by a huge silver rolly suitcase. But I cannot get myself and the suitcase through the turnstile at the same time. “It’s fine,” I think, “I have an unlimited pass.” So I shove my suitcase through and tell Becky to grab it, at the same time as she is saying “but I don’t think you can. . .”

Guess what. Turnstiles are smart. They have memories like elephants. I couldn’t run my card through again. There’s a rumbling in the distance. I’m on one side of the turnstile and Becky is on the other with my suitcase.

I couldn’t think of anything else to do but step back to the ticket machine. This time I find the one ride ticket.

My last subway ride in New York cost me 9 bucks. Becky thought it was funny.

Heads will Roll

I’m posting this earlier than I usually do, so my “regular readers” probably haven’t read my last post yet. Please read that one too, I’m interested in what people have to say.

Last night I had the worst headache of my life. I’ve been getting headaches quite a bit lately and I keep saying I should make an appointment at the eye doctor. But this was different. It was all on one side of my head. When I moved my head it sort of throbbed like a heart beat. I ended up having to turn out the lights and just lay my head down on a pillow and try not to move, or blink, or breathe. Was this a migraine?

Prior to my HEADACHE OF DEATH, as I was driving home, I was pondering how we see ourselves compared to how other people see us. Obviously it’s different. Prepare for this to sound slightly vain, but I’m really not…at least not very often. Now, when someone is going to give me a compliment I can usually count on it being one of three things: my eyes, my voice, or my humor. I’m not complaining here, at least they’re finding something. But they aren’t necessarily the things I would compliment about myself, if that makes any sense. There are things about me I hate, and things that I think make me a pretty cool person.

Here are the top 5 compliments I would love to receive:

1. Lori is an amazing and empathetic listener.
2. Lori has such an expressive face!
3. Lori knows how to turn the simplest thing into a wonderful adventure.
4. Lori really puts her heart and soul into her friendships
5. Lori is a quick learner.

What are the top compliments you receive and what do you wish people would notice about you?

Ok, yes, this was kind of an egotistical and vain post, wasn’t it?

Ex-traneous Information?

So here’s a question we were tossing around the lunch room the other day. You’ve met someone you really like. You’re past the awkward “dating” phase (“so…what do you do?”), you’ re pretty much done finding out the fundamentals about each other, and you consider yourselves a couple.

How much does that person need to know about the people you had relationships with in the past? Nothing at all? Names? Only if it was a long term relationship? Or do you reveal to them only based on what they reveal to you?

Do you feel like you want to know about the people they dated? What if they were engaged or married before, do you have a right to know why that relationship didn’t work out? If they weren’t comfortable talking about it, would that make you have second thoughts?

I think it’s instinct to want to clam up about this. In one way or another your old relationships were failures, and who wants to talk about things you weren’t any good at? On the other hand, I think if a person has been involved in a serious relationship that lasted a while and did not work out, how the person handled that situation says a lot about who they are. I’d want to know about it, at least on vague terms. Do I care about how many first dates you went on? No probably not, although the stories might be funny. Do I care that you were with someone for 3 years and bought a house together but she ended up leaving you because you kept borrowing her underwear? Yeah, that one would be nice to know.


A blog about my life and other stuff.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well (1937)