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Let’s Go Orange! Revenge Never Tasted So Good

16 Mar

It’s OVER.

Continue reading

My Confession, It’s True, Guilty!

12 Mar

I confess.  I watched The Bachelor this season.  C’mon.  Don’t judge.  Continue reading

Kate’s “Sports Illustrated” Cover Up Issues – OUCH!

18 Feb

The 2013 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue was just released and I just can’t help but blog about it. Continue reading

Super Bowl, Sex, and Super-Sized Spots

3 Feb

While I’m a bit disappointed, seemingly every year now, when my San Diego Chargers don’t advance to the Super Bowl – I do take great interest in a good championship game and great commercials. Continue reading

Me and Mr. Jones

18 Jan

A few weeks ago, I blogged about a presentation I recently gave to colleagues about how miscommunication causes businesses to lose millions annually. To personalize my presentation, I decided ‘on the fly’ to share with the group the research I’d conducted and decision I’d finally made to get implants (see blog entry of Dec. 27). In short, I was guilty of the very miscommunication I was trying to make a point about—at my own, somewhat embarrassing, expense.  Continue reading

Miss Alabama, I LOVE Football Too!!

8 Jan

I never thought I’d see the day where the ‘star’ of a BCS National Championship game was NOT the QB who won the game – in this case Alabama’s AJ McCarron – but instead, his girlfriend, Katherine Webb.  Continue reading

Getting Implants? Clarify.

27 Dec

After 15 years of anchoring or managing the news in one form or another in Upstate NY, I made the bold decision in May to move to Atlanta where – in a nutshell – I now teach engineers how to communicate.  It’s a great professional marriage.  They’re critical and analytical, and I’m creative and chatty.  Not overly, annoyingly, overbearingly, fluffy chatty — just a conversational-I-like-people-places-and-things kinda chatty.

I like talking. But, I also like listening.

Sometimes I really should listen to myself talk. Continue reading

What She Really Wants for Christmas!

10 Dec

Like clockwork this time every year, guy friends check in for trendy gift ideas for their loves.  First, I remind them of the Priceless Wish List before asking if they’re in the doghouse — just so I know if I have to refer to the damage control list.  Second, I ask them to think back to what she’s mentioned during the year.  We do notice and love when you remember our needs and desires, even if we don’t want it anymore, we’ll want it all over again just because you remembered. Continue reading

Dorothy Got It Right!

26 Nov

The furthest I’d ever moved away from home was a safe, easy and convenient 47 miles, from Utica to Syracuse in 1998.  Feel like seeing family?  Just drive east.  Feel like I’d had enough of family – or likely they’ve had enough of me – just drive 47 miles west.  Bored?  Drive east.  Have a new nephew?  Drive east.  Niece?  East.  Another nephew?  East.  Birthday party?  East.  Wedding?  East.  Holiday?  East.  Summer barbeque?  East.  Someone’s sick?  East.  Sister does a redecorate?  East.  Brother-in-law Cheech is making homemade Italian sauce?  EAST… in a hurry.

It was perfect.

I figure I made more than 1,000 trips east, more than 120,000 miles — just to hang with friends and family, play with delicious nieces and nephews, and feel the comfort of familiarity only ‘home’ can give.  So when I took a 973 mile leap of faith to Atlanta in May, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel heading home for the Thanksgiving holiday.  Or… how anyone would feel about me.  Here’s what I learned.

No matter how much you plan, expect the unexpected.  The boss will need something at the last minute, traffic will be sludge, and your plane will be – the horror – delayed.

Be grateful for those who let you stay in their home, especially in fresh cotton-smelling sheets.

There’s never enough time to see everyone.  For those you can see, be present.  Completely present.

Everybody will tell you look ahhh-mazing.

And thinner.

And better than ever.

And so do they.

Nobody tells you – you look taller.  (I’ll keep hoping.)

Your mother will want to spend more time with you.  You did have more time until the ‘expected unexpected’ happened.  Note to self.  Make more time for mom next time, especially if she mentions the 1,234 hours of labor she endured, in the middle of a snow storm, in the pre-epidural days.  Just sayin.

Your full-figured cat your mother ‘stole/borrowed’ will still bite you because she doesn’t give a sh**.

Your sisters will interrogate you while the house still smells like a delicious blend of 35 Yankee candles.   

Cheech’s Italian homemade sauce will taste better than ever.

Nieces and nephews will grow taller.

Some will have new babies.

Old high school friends will be happy to see you even if they swear your old controlling high school boyfriend wanted to beat them up and it was your fault and you don’t remember it that way but are too tired from visiting everyone to do anything but smile, nod, agree and apologize.  Just like you did last year.

Colleagues will stop their busy day, just to be a captive audience, just to hear your stories. 

For better or worse, expect to run into people you didn’t expect to see.  You’ll never regret the nice things you say.    

Take the time to surprise a friend who didn’t know you were coming home.  Especially if she’s fighting cancer.  The look on her face will be etched in your mind.

For those you can’t get to this time, put them on the top of the list next time.

For those who knew you were coming – and didn’t want to see you – it’s time to move on…..    

Expect to drink a lot.  Or I should say – you’ll need to drink a lot.

Girlfriends will smile, even though their hearts are broken you can’t stay.

It’s often harder on those who stay.

People will be sad when you leave – which makes you wonder why you left in the first place.

Dorothy got it right.  There’s no place like home. 

The Ugly Brown Spider

19 Nov

I know bugs are everywhere.  North.  South.  East.  West.  But I never expected this.

I’m 4’11”.  The curtain rod needed to be placed at 7’11”.  I’ve never been very good at Math, but knew, as usual, I was lots of inches too short.  Nooo problem.  I’m pretty resourceful.  I’ll just gerrymander the ‘never-been-used-but-I-will-someday’ yoga mat on top of the end table and top it with a kitchen chair.

I hate hanging curtains.  And every time I do, I swear someday I’m going to hire someone to do it for me — if only finding a curtain hangerer wasn’t more work than hanging the curtains myself.  To do the job, I needed comfort.  Contacts out.  Comfy clothes on.  Pony tail in.  Chianti open.  Don’t judge.

About an hour later, and two glasses in, both rods and three panels are up! Great job D!  Almost done.  But that’s the problem with ‘almost.’  A lot can happen between … ‘almost’ and ‘done.’

Like — a spider.  A mean, ugly, surly, hairy, gnarly, creepy, crawling, sprawling uninvited spider.  REAL ugly.  With long crooked legs and rich carmel and mahogany colored fur spider… lurking on the hardwood floor… right next to the couch… next to the curtain… next to the ‘ladder’ … I was on top of.

I don’t like spiders.  They’re sneaky.  They’re fast.  And very hairy.  I once saw on Discovery Channel spiders don’t die of natural causes and that – on average – we ingest 8 spiders a year.  I’ve even read stories of medical examiners who find spiders and other bugs in our bellies when they – do what  medical examiners do.  I don’t know if it’s true, but I do know it’s gross.  Spiders are sinister.  They lurk and lie in wait for the right moment to set my amygdala on fire.  And I don’t care about how they save the ecosystem.  They can do that outside my flat.

Armed with a slipper, I crept down my ‘ladder.’  SMACK!  It moved!  Smack!  It moved AGAIN – this time to my horror – under the curtain panel so it can crawl up inside the panel where it’ll weave a web then burrow and spawn millions of baby spiders who will spawn more…. and I’ll die.

Panicked, I shook the curtain over and over until the spider appeared back on the floor.  We locked eyes and SMACK!!!  Smack!  Smack!  Smack!!!

“Ha HA!  You muther!,” I taunted (irrationally?).  “You come into my house??!!   Ha!  NO, I don’t think so!  You’re dead now.  How does it feel to want, huh?  Now what’ve you got to say?!”

I quickly ran into the kitchen, grabbed the Raid (I’d purchased a weeks earlier after seeing a bug in the hallway), before dousing several streams of petroleum distillate (ingredients) until I was sure the spider drowned.   “Take that!  Ha!  Yeah!  You think you’re all big and bad NOW don’t cha!  Drown sucka.  Drooowwwwwnnnn!!”  Needing to catch my breath, I sat on the couch to savor my last few sips before scooping up the carcass with a paper towel.  Which I did.

It was then I was reminded how easy it is to create things in our minds.  That – often in life – things really aren’t what they seem, especially through Chianti-colored eyes, and that my entertainment of choice of  ‘hanging curtains – contacts + wine = spider’ on a Saturday night was pretty  lame.

Seeing that I just killed an innocent Pottery Barn down feather.