Monday, September 30

Geeks of the World, Unite!

Yes, last year it was painful. Yes, it was torture. Yes, I beat myself up over it on a daily basis. And yes, not only am I signing up to do nanowrimo again, but I am signing up to be a Boston Municipal Liaison. I have surpassed geek. I am now uber-geek. And proud of it. This year's novel will definitely be based on my work experiences on some large, yet-to-be-named, Seattle-based Internet retail store. Of course, I don't have a plot yet. But as the wise folks at nanowrimo say, no plot, no problem.

Almost Like Home

Work is divine. What else can I say about a job where I stress about commas, concoct story ideas, and prepare for interviews. I spend time in the library researching, sit in on classes in preparation of articles, and my coworkers are smart and interesting. Life outside of work is improving. A lovely dinner with a local (thanks, Jpeck, for the intro!) that made me feel like there are people here I would actually get to know better. The weather is turning, the leaves are brightening, and my schedule is full of plans. And my early schedule allows me to get full days in. Leisurely after-work dinner and drinks still had me home before I would have gotten home from work at my Seattle job. It's starting to feel like home.

Stepford Jenny

And the submission doesn't end there. It's futile. I cannot fight it. I'm giving in to the CWITs. They have an activity planned that is so clearly designed to prepare me for trophey-wifedom that its intentions are irrefutable, and yet I have succumbed. It's a fashion show. At Ann Taylor. And I will be attending. What can I say? Free food and a 10% discount on everything in the store. Repeat after me. "Yes, dear." "Whatever you say, dear." "Let me cook you dinner, dear." One of us. One of us. One of us.

Sunday, September 29

It's Your Birthday. It's Your Birthday

No, not you! There, you in Miami Beach. The brown-haired lady with the bad memory. It's your birthday! Happy Birthday, Mom!

Wednesday, September 25

Bad Blogger, Bad!

Each day that I don't blog just adds to the guilt I'm feeling for neglecting my one outlet of stress (other than beating on Adam, but that's getting old at this point) and the easiest way I have to communicate with my friends who don't live in Boston. Things have just gotten so out-of-hand busy, though, that I feel like I barely have time to eat, never mind blog. Adam and I have officially entered the Harvard stage where we don't see each other anymore. (Which means those of you who had any thoughts about us having a baby can just banish them from your mind for at least a year, because last I heard, to get pregnant, the man and the woman had to be alone, together, in the same room for more than the "gotta run" peck on the cheek.)

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Last weekend, I spent a brief, brief time in Seattle before heading to Poulsbo for Mary's wedding. My friends kept saying, "Aren't you glad to be back," and I kept telling them, "Not really." As I described it, it's like I've just recently broken up with Seattle. Oh, I've got a new boyfriend (his name is Boston, and he's much more urbane and complicated than Seattle. He has depth and vitality), who I like just fine. Sure, he's not Seattle. But Seattle and I are over. Yet, the wound is too fresh. Needs to heal a bit more. Basically, I'm just not ready to be friends yet. So, no, I really wasn't all that psyched about my trip back. But yes, the wedding was so beautiful, it made me forget that I was in turmoil.

And the Bridesmaid Wore a... Collar

The place Mary chose for her wedding was stunning. The food was superb. But the best part was the procession, which included Mary's dog, Anna. Anna isn't always the most obedient of dogs (one of her more endearing traits). As many of you may know, I'm not a dog person (cats are the way to go), but even I can grudgingly look on Mary's mutt and work up some feelings of affection. Everyone is sitting outside in the outdoor garden. And from outside the trees, about halfway down to the restaurant, you can hear the bride yelling, "Anna. Anna! Get back here Anna!" But Anna finally behaved and with only the most minor of detours made it, with her floral collar, to the front. The only--only--negative to the wedding was the officiant had the entire crowd sing to the bride and groom. That part was very nice. But the song he chose was "Skinny Marinky Dinky Dink." I'd never heard of it. And now, it's been playing nonstop in my mind since the wedding. Make it stop!

Scrapbook This!

The partners club is sending out notice after notice about scrapbooking. Who knew that it was such the popular event. We can work on our scrapbooks next Tuesday, if we'd like, although keep in mind that this is not an "official" scrapbooking event. That won't be for another two weeks. And we all know how folks get when they can't get their scrapbooking fix! Why don't they ever have a Martini Night. I'd go. Even if it weren't an official event.

Work, the Old-Fashioned Way

As we all know, I never discuss work here. But I will say it's been most enjoyable so far, the people are wonderful, and nothing is done on computers! They use paper! Real live dead-wood paper. Bizarre! In fact, I get fewer than eight e-mails a day (even in my first week at Amazon, I was receiving about 50 a day. When I left, that number was usually between 150 and 200 in a day). They arrange meetings by e-mail or phone. No Meeting Maker, no Outlook meetings. People use the kind of calendars you use a pen on. The style sheet is a word document. Let me tell you, it is taking me no time at all to adjust to this new alien way of working. Also, I'm in a large cubicle that faces a window. I have a perfect view of Fenway (and no, I can't see the games themselves, although if I peer enough, I can make out the scoreboard). But, the even better thing about this view, I'm told, is we face an art school. Yeah, yeah, art school. Big whoop. Well, they have naked models. (Let's see what kind of folks search for the term "naked" and anything else and are terribly disappointed when they come up with my site.) Time to invest in binoculars, methinks.

Wednesday, September 18

Not that I'm on e-bay, bidding on items I shouldn't be bidding on, because we're watching our funds, but you've got to check this site out. Some unbelievable stuff out there!

Homeward? Bound

So I'm supposed to be packing, but I'm not. Instead, I'll wake up not-quite-as-early-as-I-meant-to tomorrow and in a panic, toss things in a bag. Then, I'll wonder why it is I didn't bother to pack [basic item that I was supposed to pack such as underwear or socks or the dress for the wedding that is the sole reason for this trip].

So, I'm off tomorrow for a wedding back west. And before anyone gets up in arms about the fact that I'm not calling anyone in Seattle, please know that I will be in Seattle for less than 18 hours. The wedding is actually in Poulsbo, and because of my impending job, I will not be spending extra time in the city. I will be seeing no one. So please, no one be offended.

Adam asked me, "Am I going to have to fly back there to drag you back here?" Funny thing, I hadn't even thought of how I'd feel once I was back on the West Coast until he mentioned it. I'm excited about this wedding, and seeing the folks who will be there. The wedding, I'm sure, will be beautiful, and I'm thrilled for Miss Mary, because she finally found a guy who's smart enough for her (not an easy feat, to be sure). All of the KAG will be there (no, that's not a sorority--I was GDI and proud of it in college [at NYU, the Greek system was for the total losers who couldn't make it in the city]--and no, I will not tell you what that is, but understand that it's some of my closest galpals in the world [the rest of that small circle being made up by Jenn, the Claire Bear, and the Tweedle Twirp, although I'm not sure if she counts as a galpal since she's stuck with me in that sororal way]), so the weekend will be rockin'. But how will I feel? Interesting question. Massachusetts definitely does not feel like home. But I don't think Seattle will either, anymore. Without a home base, it's just another city I once lived in. Of course, we'll see how I feel once I'm actually there. That could change anything. Maybe I will decide to stay.

On Coupledom

So, in Eugene's weblog (Sept. 17), he bitches that all his friends in couples have become boring. To quote him, he says, what has become alarmingly evident "is how boring your friends become when they enter a relationship. Infinitely interesting to each other, mind-numbingly dull to the rest of us." He goes on to say he's given "up on asking anyone in a relationship to do anything other than bring their mate out to other events with other couples." (Please read his whole entry so I can't be accused of pulling anything out of context here.)

This is definitely something I used to be hyper-aware of when I was a single person. That oh-I-should-be-happy-for-them-when-really-I-want-to-scream-because-now-that's-another-friendship-down-the-crapper feeling. I had certain friends that just, poof, vanished before my eyes when they found a boy/girlfriend. And I always made an effort not to be one of those people when I was in a relationship. But, you know, I was (and I speak in the past tense, because now, it is simply expected of me. I am married ergo I am lame). I'd go out with friends, but want to get home early to meet up with Adam (and I'm being kind here, because for 14 years it was other boys as well, but that's another thing--once you're married those get erased to the outside world. Oh, I'll remember the others, of course, but for all you out there, Adam is and has been the one and only, right?). Or sometimes I'd leave early, because the idea of sitting out in a bar drinking and looking for boys was no longer a big deal. Not that that's all we did. But somehow, all the other activities I liked to do (book group, writing groups, movies, readings, whatever) ended early enough that boyfriend or not was never an issue. The thing is when I disappeared, it wasn't always because of a boy. Yet, all my other reasons were acceptable. For a full six or seven months, I blew off friends regularly because I was training for the Seattle-to-Portland bike ride. It was never, "Oh, Jenny's so lame for going to bed at 9 p.m." It was, "Jenny needs to go, because she gets up at 5 a.m. to train" and it was respected. I've always been a party pooper, because I'm decidedly a morning person. But the minute I had a boyfriend, my same exact schedule made me weak, another woman lost to the attentions of a man.

I'm not sure what my point is except that Eugene definitely got me thinking. I've always associated myself with the Singleton point of view. But I'm married. I wonder if it takes some time for that mindset to sink in. Married, married, married. It feels totally different, and yet completely the same. Despite Eugene's pessimistic point of view, I very much have my own life. Going away by myself for the weekend. Next week, I have my writing group, my book group, and then the week after, two nights out (sans Adam) with my new friends. But it's not the same. Because, yes, I will be home by 11. And for no better reason than I have someone to come home to. And I have to say, that's pretty nice. You might want to give it a try yourself, Eugene.

Tuesday, September 17

Okay, someone needs to forcibly remove the Double Stuf Oreos from the house (and Adam, if you even think about it, I'll bite the hand that grabs the package!)
Mmmm, Double Stuf Oreos for breakfast!

Sunday, September 15

Fair Day

I know it's hard to believe, but it turns out the Double Stuf Oreos are not the cure for the common cold. I took a triple dose, too, just to make sure.

Despite my head cold, we made our way to the HBS Fall Fair. The event is for students, faculty, and staff, so there was almost a diverse population out there. Many different areas were set up, including a large bbq with a band, a make-your-own-sundaes bar next to the reptile zoo, pony rides and a petting zoo, and those kid activities like moonwalks and Velcro walls.

Before we got into the activities, Adam showed me the classrooms. He's been bitching for two days now about having the worst seat in the room (students are assigned their seat and it's theirs until December. First years don't change rooms for their classes. They sit in the same room in their sections, and the professors come to them). "I'm below the eye level of the teacher," he complained. Barely. I was picturing a sunken room with all his moans, but really, it's not so bad. They do call his row the "worm deck." The two middle decks are the "power decks" and the two top rows are the "sky deck."

We then hit the fair. I was sorry I didn't bring my camera, because there were just some bizarre moments. Like a small canopy under which sat Winnie the Pooh, Scooby Doo, Clifford the Dog, and Blue's Clues. They were all alone on this big lawn area, toward the back, just randomly waving. No one came near them. And then there was the human foosball. A large plastic rectangle was set up, with metal bars going across. People strapped themselves in with Velcro pads to the bars and soccer balls were thrown in. It really did look just like foosball, with folks sliding back and forth, but not able to move forward or backward. Adam was so excited when he saw it. "Hey, do you want to play?" he asked, nearly jumping up and down. "Not a chance," I replied. Sun was hot; head was pulsing. "Oh. Um," shuffle feet, shuffle feet, "can I play?" If only you could have seen my adult husband, plowing down the little kids as he dove for the ball. The best was when the ball was just out of reach and he'd be kicking at air, practically toppling over. Of course, right by the foosball, and the moonwalk (the big plastic things jump in) that said "Ages 1 to 5" was a dj playing, quite clearly, "Shake Your Ass." Great music for the kids to jump by. The day was nice, but it didn't take too long for us to lose interest. We found the few people we knew there and then moved on.

On the way back from HBS, we stopped by Arlington Town Day. Seems to be a big deal, complete with fireworks last night, a race this morning, lots of bands and a street fair. The fair reminded me of the Fremont Festival, only instead of pagans there were church booths and instead of nude people there were, well, um, clothed people.

Then this afternoon, I just gave into my cold and slept and moaned for most of the afternoon. We've been watching the third season of The Sopranos on DVD, so we made it through a couple of episodes. But, like clockwork, Adam swore to me he was awake enough to watch them and within minutes, his eyes were shut and he was fast asleep. It's now a nightly routine. "Adam, honey. Wake up. C'mon, wake up, 'cause it's time to go to sleep."

Friday, September 13

Runny Noses

Adam kindly gave me his cold, so I spent the day swaddled up in bed, reading my latest trashy book from the library. I'm glad I'll be going out into the real world again soon, so I can start thinking like a grown-up again. I can feel my mind turning to mush....

Schoomze with Jews... and HBSers

The event at Hillel was billed as "Schmooze with Jews," a grad school event. I decided to overlook the disastrous Rosh Hashanah services, and give Hillel another try. Since it was a mixer for folks from a bunch of Boston schools, I figured it would be a great chance to meet folks. I loved being active on the YLD board in Seattle, and who knows? Well, it was just like going to an HBS event. Only instead of people dismissing me the minute they found out I wasn't a student, here they dismissed me the minute they saw I wasn't single. I spied a petite woman talking with a man, who didn't appear Jewish, in the corner. I then saw them later by a table, and I whispered to Adam, "I think they're a couple! They'll talk to us!" And sure enough, they did. Nice folks--she's getting her law degree and he's doing a PhD in economics. The saving grace of the evening.

After, we headed to a happy hour at a local bar. The segregation thing between the marrieds and non-marrieds is definitely in full force. This was the married crowd. When we arrived, Kara and two other women were sitting at one end of the table, and the guys were all at the other end. Adam headed for two empty seats at the end of the table, but I pulled up a chair with the womenfolk. I hate that this is the way it's turning out--this self-ghettoization by the females, but the truth is, the guys kind of bore me. The sections the students will be in was leaked and the guys were all talking about that or about their Creating Modern Capitalism class. Yet, I want to rebel against the women-in-the-corner thing (not that we were literally in the corner, but you get my drift). But do you sacrifice a pleasant evening for the sake of your principles? What I thought was interesting was that later two more students showed up--one male, one female, not a couple. They both sat at our end of the table, and I absolutely automatically fell into the trap of assuming she was a partner. And honestly, once I found out she was a student, I didn't want her sitting with us. I felt like I wanted her to sit with the other students and force her way into their conversation. A sort of "do it for the women" kind of thing.

Of course, we haven't figured out the gender dynamics at home, either. Adam and I haven't yet decided the division of responsibilities here. He's truly fallen into the stereotypical "man"'s role, painting the walls, fixing the electrical, installing the sink. And by default, since I'm home, I'm doing the laundry and mostly making the dinners and doing the dishes. Which is probably the fairest division of labor we've ever had, because in our house in Seattle, he pretty much did everything (the fixing, the dishes, the wash; we split cooking). Yet, it makes me crazy now when he leaves a mess, because I'm home all day to deal with it. When I'm working full-time (and continuing to freelance), we'll have some definite work to do in figuring out how we divide up the chores. If I can get enough freelance, then perhaps we can get a maid service again, which would be a huge relief to both of us.

Oh, Yeah, Did I Mention I Found a Job?

Now, you all know I don't normally write about work here (too unprofessional), but I will (for the sake of exposition) tell you about my upcoming job, which I'm terribly excited about. I found an editor/writer position at Boston University in the alumni publications department. The joy of this job is it's truly half writing and half editing. That's the job. No metrics, no merchandising, no building pages. I get to focus on the two things I like doing best. And because the school is so large, there are a zillion things to write about. The features are real features (I'll be contributing to Bostonia magazine as well as managing two newsletters), so I'll really be able to develop my article writing skills. The folks in the office seem really great (an office full of happy people!) and the benefits are superb. I start a week from Monday!

House Status

And in case you're wondering, the sink still isn't in.

Wednesday, September 11


In case you're wondering why I don't mention the memorial services today, it's because I can't. It's just too overwhelming, and I'm feeling inundated by Sept. 11th coming from all sides, so I'm choosing to ignore it here. That doesn't mean that it doesn't have meaning for me, just that I don't want to discuss it here.

My Perfectionist Husband

Okay, he's now obsessing about a sink. A sink, I tell you! He has probably a zillion cases to read; many, many chapters of Creating Modern Capitalism; and God knows what else, but he's obsessing because the vanity we special ordered doesn't fit tightely against the wall, because the wall itself is angled (like every other wall in this house). And now he's moping about and cursing because it just won't be perfect. Let's hope he doesn't look too closely at the rooms I've painted.

Tuesday, September 10

Ivy League Isn't Better--Just More Expensive

Yeah, now I have my own link from a boring MBA site! Thanks, Martin (who linked to me from The MBA Experience, which is actually not boring since he's British and therefore says things such as "knackered" and spells "realized" with an s and has to take his finals in a glorified dress). So there, Adam!

And as long as we're on the subject of snooty, over-priced, pseudo-intellectual institutions (that would be HBS, not Martin's site), why am I so offended at the job posting sent to the Partners Group: "Ideal candidate is Ivy-league, very sharp and personable." Ivy League is a job requirement? What friggin' elitism! C'mon, everyone reading this knows some moron who made his way through an Ivy League school somehow. Whose parent, perhaps, bought him a place at the university? And how many brilliant non-Ivys do you know? It really, truly pisses me off. Of course, I don't need them, since I've got my own job to be going to (which I won't tell about until things are down on paper. No need to jinx it at this point!).

Running Out of Material

Sigh. So the worst has happened. I went to a Partner's function and actually met a woman or two who I may grow to become friends with. This, of course, is disastrous for the weblog, as my best material may be taken away from me. An ice cream social tonight introduced us to the various committees available (laugh all you want at the ice cream social, but they served Brigham's and they had fudge and jimmies and whipped cream and cherries, so there!). None I'd really be interested in (scrapbooking? No thanks. Philanthropy? Um, I'm tapped. Children's? Not there yet). But I met a nice woman who's interested in starting a writing group (who has an actual real-life job as a COO for a small non-profit) and another who's a reporter. No need to completely panic--there were some CWIT moments. Like the advice to make sure our partners come with us for as many of the activities as possible as that may be the only time we get to see him. Although, starting next week, we'll be completely busy in our partner's section activities. And the sign-up sheets were riddled with typos.

Sunday, September 8

Modern Times

So, while Adam's car, which finally died, gets towed to the shop, I can sneak in a blog, although I promised I'd cook dinner while he followed the tow truck to the shop in my car.

Okay, so I know it's totally cheesy, but I read this book I checked out of the library (single income families don't One Click their books as they did when they were two income families without student loans) called How to Be a Freelance Writer. Of course, I don't need it anymore, since I've gotten a job offer (oh, you thought I told you everything, did you? Even I can keep a few things up my sleeve). When I checked it out, I didn't realize it was written in 1981. The crux of the information is still accurate, of course: targeting pieces, writing query letters, dealing with editors. But some of it is simply laughable. I mean, 1981 doesn't seem that long ago. I remember it. Yet reading this book, 1981 was another era. Advice such as:

  • "...editors will assign stories to writers who type their queries on manual typewriters, but no manual can ever give your final drafts the high-tech professional appearance of an electric. The pros use electrics."
  • use carbon paper to make copies of query letters because it's important you keep a draft for yourself and it will save you lots of money on photocopying.
  • "As you probably know, many libraries have installed computer terminals to help patrons locate various research materials. If your local library has such a computer, by all means, learn how to use it."
  • You can record phone conversations for interviews by using a device available at Radio Shack. A cord connects to the recorder, and you place a suction cup over the listening end of the phone.
  • "The next step up from a machine such as the Electronic 75 [a typewriter with computer memory] is a full-fledged word processor. The most sophisticated of these computer age, text-editing machines consists of three separate units: a keyboard, a televisionlike cathode ray tube, and a printing unit.... a word processor uses magnetic disks that offer a removable memory. Such disks function much like the cassette cartridges used in tape recorders.... you can get a 'hard' copy of the text by merely pressing the 'print' button....the price for a full-fledged modular word processor ranged from $7,500 to more than $20,000...."
  • A section entitled: "Is There an Answering Machine in Your Future?"
  • "To save money on your long-distance phone calls, remember that Ma Bell charges her highest rates on weekdays between 8:00 AM and 5:00 PM, local time.... consider subscribing to a special long-distance service such as M.C.I. or Sprint.... in addition to your long-distance charges, you'll also be billed a flat monthly fee.... such services will not permit you to dial every phone in the U.S.....In order to subscribe you must have a touch-tone phone, and you must be willing to press twelve extra buttons before dialing each long-distance call."
  • "...budgeting on a freelancer's volatile income can prove as vexing as trying to unscramble a Rubik's Cube puzzle."
  • "[He wrote] a story on the metric system for Braniff's Flying Colors."

I'm sorry but this just cracked me up. I think the Arlington library needs to update their books.

Saturday, September 7

Dude, Arlington Sucks!

Not everyone is as enamored of Arlington as we are. One high school kid put up the site, The Virtual Suck Tour of Arlington. Ignoring the excessive "hey, I'm 17" profanity, there's actually some funny stuff in there, particularly the bylaws and the police listings.

Grievances for the Year 5763

  • The upstairs vanity still hasn't come so I have to go downstairs to brush my teeth.
  • Adam's weblog is getting more hits than mine (although he's linked only from boring MBA sites, so I shouldn't care) (and if you just clicked through to see his weblog, then damn you!).
  • The services at the Harvard Hillel are run completely by students, which means a less-than-inspiring sermon was given by a boy who's 14 years my junior.
  • My head hurts
  • It took me five days to do four loads of laundry. Normally Adam does it, but he's been sick, so I'm doing it. But invariably what happens is I put a load in the wash and then forget about it for a few days, so by the time I put the clothes into the dryer and start a new load, there's a slightly funky smell to the laundry. Of course, this could have to do with the traumatization I experienced as a young child (age 10). I was forced to do the family's wash. I hated to do the family's wash. But I wasn't allowed to go out until the wash was done. Actually, it wasn't so much doing the wash I despised as folding the clothes. I learned, though, that if I hid unfolded clothes in the bottom drawer of my dresser and told my mother it was all done and folded and put away, then I could play. As these stories tend to go, I got caught one day. My mother wondered why my father's pajamas, her T-shirts, and my sister's socks and underwear were in my dresser drawer. I can't remember what happened, but I'm guessing there was a grounding involved. And I still had to do the family laundry.
  • I bought a pad to keep my chair from rolling across the room, but my chair still rolls across the room.
  • I filled a bird feeder with seed and put it up a week ago and not a single bird has come to nibble.

I guess that's it. L'Shana Tova.

Friday, September 6

Mmmm, marzipan from Mike's Pastry for breakfast. That's what's great about being a grown-up: marzipan for breakfast.

Thursday, September 5

Digging Out

The place practically feels like home--we've unpacked the DVDs. We bought some pine DVD racks and have filled them to the brim (and overflowing) with DVDs and videos. And yet, despite the wealth of DVDs, they don't look as impressive as they did in our tiny little closet. The basement is simply too big.

Today was a loverly day that involved absolutely no work or no work searching on my part. Jon (my brother-in-law) had tickets to a Big Dig tour that he couldn't use (the Big Dig being the massive road project that's been going on in Boston for pretty much forever, from what I'm to gather. It's supposed to be done in another couple of years--they're submerging roads and building bridges and demolishing the surface routes in favor of parks. The job is many years over long and a few billion dollars overbudget). The tours are free, but they are completely full through the end of 2002 so I was psyched to get the opportunity to go. Kara, another HBS partner, and I showed at around 10 for an hour long presentation. I was surprised at how interesting it was. They talked about making the tunnels under the train tracks (the federal government wouldn't let them reroute the trains or halt the trains at all), the objects they've discovered in their digs, and all the modern technology (there are sensors in the roads that when the speed changes suddenly, alarms go off and operators can see on monitors where there is a breakdown to send emergency vehicles; they also did things such as sonic charges to move the lobsters away from under water so they wouldn't get hurt and they added holes to the bridge so light would shine through so the fish wouldn't get confused when swimming upstream; also they rebroadcast fm and am radio and cell phones in the tunnels so if they ever need to, they can do an emergency override). Then we walked out on to the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Bridge and into one of the underground roads. Of course, I forgot my camera. But it was phenomenal to stand in the middle of this huge bridge with no traffic staring up at the support cable. The bridge is incredible, lit up in blue at night. Check out more photos of it here. The underground portion was also interesting, but I was more fascinated by the bridge. Amazing to think that in a few months, no one will be able to stand in the middle of it again, as thousands and thousands of cars rush over it every day.

After the tour, Kara and I went for an over-the-top lunch in the North End, followed by cannoli and cappuccino at Mike's Pastry. We did a little shopping--picked up some bread, prosciutto, salami, and pecorino for dinner as well as some dessert--and then I hopped the T back to the park and ride. I'm amazed at how fast I can get downtown.

The rest of the afternoon was spend unpacking more of the basement. We need to get the basement room painted and the carpet stripped before the end of the month when we're having flooring put down. The boxes are slowly disappearing completely....

Wednesday, September 4

The Freelance Life

Rolled out of bed this morning and thought, To shower or not to shower? I was thinking of going for the uncleaned record, but then remembered that I have plans for tonight. Oh well. There's always next week for record breaking.

I'll Give You the Dirt

So, Adam has declared in his weblog that he won't be giving out his stats (for business school applications). I, on the other hand, would be happy to tell you his stats...

Monday, September 2

No Style

My parents came to town this weekend to check the place out, help hang pictures, and to take us shopping (not too shabby). Adam and I have been doing fine with the furniture we have, because we already owned pieces individually. We're not doing quite as well on the joint decisions. I found the perfect chair for the library--big and cushy with a rocker and a recliner. Adam said it looked like something out of All in the Family. He said it looked old. (Note to Adam: We are old.) He liked these leather monstrosities that just were not comfy. Luckily, he's in school all week and I'm not working, so I have plenty of opportunity to sneak whatever I like into the house.

Here Comes the Bride (and the Bride)

Since leaving Seattle, we haven't been reading the Sunday New York Times, although I keep saying that I'm going to start our subscription back up. So I was suprised when I was sitting at a friend's house, leafing through the Style section, and as I went through the wedding notices (as I always do to see if there's anyone I know, and yes, there is occasionally someone I know), saw a large picture of two men. Apparently "Weddings" is now "Weddings/Celebrations" and they're now adding in same-sex couples. Strange (but nice) to see stodgy-old NYT catching up to the times.