Unexpected Visitor and Eating to Live

Hiya –

I hope everyone had a swell swell – stress free Christmakkah.  I spent a considerable amount of time reading, eating, hanging with family and trying to download the three Twilight soundtracks to my iTunes library – and not necessarily in that order of priority.  Earl the cat stayed at the condo in Atlanta and was generally glad to see me come home on Monday.

I left to head home to Asheville last Thursday afternoon, but not before Conference Room C had an unexpected visitor.  We do have regular (if not odd) visits from our supervising attorney and the rare visit from the general counsel of the company (go team, job well done, and all that).  About mid-day one of the administrative assistants heard us laughing and decided to come in for a visit. She stayed and visited with us for a little over 20 minutes.  She apparently joined the company around the same time I started contracting there – about four months ago.  For 10 minutes she explained to us all the ailments she has had since joining the company, including, but not limited to, problems caused by her “weak capillaries” (her words, not mine) such as burst blood vessels in her eyes, causing blurry vision and dizziness, sore ankle due to her horseback riding, broken tooth (leading to decay and inevitable root canal) and bronchitis.  It is very possible I missed something, but I think you get the point.  She is a veritable smorgasbord of infirmities.  For the remaining 10 minutes of her visit she talked about all the law firms she has worked at over the years (I would guess her age to be between 55 and 60) and how absolutely horrible the lawyers have been – I believe she specifically said “lawyers are all liars and cheats – every single one.”  She then verbally paraphrased a 10 page letter she wrote to the office manager upon her departure from one of her former firms.  Her last words to us before returning to her desk were “the jokes about lawyers are all true.”  On her way out she chuckled, coughed and then wished us a Merry Christmas.  When she was safely around the corner and out of earshot, I turned to Juniata and Tanya (Clare was already off enjoying her holiday) and said “She doesn’t know we are lawyers, does she?”  They said, in stereo “apparently not” and we had a good craic (Gaelic – sort of means fun) laughing about it before burying our heads back in our computers.

OK – now to the important stuff.  In my previous blog I mentioned a “weight loss competition” that started and then fizzled out.  Well, my fellow competitors, namely Stacey Thompson and Mel Beam, and I ARE NOT GIVING UP.  We have decided to take our health seriously.  We are obviously not getting any younger and it is time to take action.  I think I mentioned several blogs ago that I have, over the years, purchased all kinds of exercise equipment and videos – only to pile such items up in the cupboard unused.  Similarly, Mel has purchased, read and then forgotten about untold numbers of diet and “living healthy” books.  Her latest purchase, Dr. Joel Fuhrman’s “Eat to Live” book is about to get used!!!  Starting at the first of the year Stacey, Mel and I are going to start implementing a healthy weight loss program that we hope will bring lasting results!!!  We are going to work together and support each other along the way.  If you want to join us, grab a copy of the book and give me a shout out.  We will include you in our support system.  The basic idea is to completely cut out (at first) all animal products (vegan baby) and then ultimately significantly reduce our intake of animal products so that they are a minimal percentage of our overall nutrition.  Giving up meat will not be difficult for me.  For over ten years now I have been meat free except fish (except for a few months in law school when I went back to eating birds – but the birds ended up being fried birds, so I quickly went back to just fish).  However, not eating cheese and other dairy products will be a little bit trickier.  I loves me some cheese.   One might say I hanker for a hunk of, slab or slice or chunk of - I hanker for a hunk of cheese.  BUT, I am up for the challenge.  I am excited about sharing it with Stacey and Mel and whoever else wants to join in and I am excited about being healthy when I turn 40.  Mel and I have already made plans to get together once a week to cook up our vegan dishes for the week.  We will cook enough for the next week, freeze it up and then enjoy!  For the first six weeks we will pretty much be eating fruit and raw and cooked vegetables.  It’s gonna be a challenging six weeks and should produce some interesting blog posts!!!  Wish us luck!!!

In the right corner we have...
"Ain't Nothin' but Mean" (soon to be lean) MELISSA BEAM!!



In the left corner we have . . .
"Gotta B Grim" (soon to be trim) STACEY THOMPSON!!

And in a completely different corner altogether we have . . .
"Hell 2B Dealt" (soon to be svelte) AMY SULLIVAN!!

Check out “Forks Over Knives” on Amazon.com if you have a spare hour and a half.  It’s a great video that addresses the benefits of cutting out animal products.  Just put “Forks Over Knives” in the search function and you can rent it for $3.99 or something like that and watch it on your computer.

I hope you all have a fun and safe New Year’s Eve!!!!!  Great things are going to happen in 2012.  I just know it!!!!!  Clean your house and eat your greens and black eyed peas. 

Ciao for now!

In a Nutshell

Well, hey!!  It’s been a while since my last post (over 3 weeks).  Either you have missed me terribly or you were hoping I had disappeared for good (don’t tell me which).  I suspect the posts will continue to be a bit sporadic during the holidays, but I will try my best to keep you updated.  A lot of little things have happened over the past few weeks – rather than belabor each point, I have decided to give you a bullet point update and then leave you be until after the holidays:

·      Thanksgiving:  We, the Ladies of the Conference Room, all showed up for work one day to find a flyer taped to the bathroom door and in various public and open places around the office in which we work.  It basically said “come one come all to our office Thanksgiving feast where we will share fellowship and good food”  We’re not stupid now, we understand that “come one come all” doesn’t necessarily include the “Ladies of Conference Room C.”  So we decided to lay low and see if anyone mentioned it directly to us.  We had already decided that, even if invited, we would likely thank them kindly and eat our sack lunches in the protective shelter of Conference Room C.  But we were thinking it would at least be nice to be invited. We weren’t.  A day later our supervisor came by “C Side” (much like West Side, but in Conference Room “C”) and Tanya was hell bent on bringing it up somehow.  I’m not sure at this point how she managed to find her opening, but it generally went down like this (the rest of us holding our breath) Tanya: “yeah, it was pretty quiet on the hall the other day, I guess everyone was at that luncheon.”  Supervisor (hanging head – never thinking we would actually bring it up, but this isn’t the first time she has met us – soft spoken and genteel we are not): “Iiiiiiiii know.  I asked if I could invite my contract workers and was told No - that it was only for employees.”  We all just kind of looked at her and let that statement marinate in the room a bit (letting the true spirit of Thanksgiving swirl around the room and then quickly escape through the air vents).  So I looked at her and said, “That’s OK, Counsel on Call (that’s who we contract with) is having a three hour seminar next week and Holiday luncheon – we plan on going to that.”  We had been, up until this very moment, reluctant to say that we would all be absent for half a day to attend the seminar/luncheon.  She (1) appreciated that I had broken the silence and (2) jumped all over how wonderful that luncheon would be and for us to have a great time.  Problem solved. 

      My own personal Thanksgiving with the family at Knotty Pines in Mentone Alabama was loads of fun!!

·     The Contest:  A week and a half ago I was uber excited to tell you about a weight loss contest I had going with two of my dear dear friends (who are members of this blog).  However, that contest lasted about as long as a cat on a highway.  I’ll let you know later whether or not it is dead or just on life support.  Stay tuned.

·       Cookie Thief:  So, Tanya went to a client meeting one day and the client had a box of Fudge Covered Ritz Crackers – Limited Edition.  She found them so delicious that she simply HAD to bring a box with her back to Conference Room C.  She went to 5 different Publix grocery stores before she found them (apparently they are only in the suburbs – us townies are not refined enough for the chocolaty Ritz I guess).  Anyway, we savored them the day she brought them in and then closed them up and left them neatly in the middle of the table so we could eat the rest later.  When we came in the next day the box was open, the actual cracker tray pulled out and an entire row of fudgelicous crackers gone!  The evidence was in front of my designated seat as if the perp had taken a load off in my chair, gobbled down the crackers and then, almost about to be discovered, had to rush out without hiding the evidence.  Now, I assure you, had the cracker box not been found in such a state we would have been none the wiser.  We would have assumed we ate them and gone on eating from the box not knowing we had just consumed stranger cooties.  We hatched a plan to put this fudge snacking (sorry – couldn’t help myself) thief in his/her place.  We typed up, in big bold letters, a note that said “TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN. THANK YOU FOR EATING OUR COOKIES.  YOU MIGHT AS WELL FINISH THEM OFF.”  We put the note inside the box (so you would see it if you pulled the crackers out) and closed the box.  We placed the box just so on the table – in a place we would remember and propped a highlighter on the box so we would know if it moved.  When we got in the next day, the box had clearly been moved, the cracker tray had clearly been pulled out and then shoved back in with the note, but no more crackers had been eaten.  I guess we showed them who the boss was of Conference Room C!

·       Evil Jello:  Ok, I’ve mentioned our supervising attorney.  We actually really like her.  She was a contract worker with Counsel on Call before she got her current job – so we consider her to be one of us.  She does, however, have a couple of peccadillos that fly all over the Ladies of Conference Room C.  Firstly, and it should be mentioned that she is no more than a size 4, she is absolutely obsessed with calories and has not once entered Conference Room C without mentioning something negative about food – and the comment is usually focused on something we are eating or have offered her.  We have stopped offering stuff, which is too bad for her because Clare is quite the baker and brings in the yummiest things!  She came in for a visit the other day and I was eating a Jello out of my lunchbox.  She said “What are you eating.”  I said “Jello – it’s cheesecake flavored.”  To which she responded “Oh, it’s Evil Jello.” “No” I said, “it’s not evil.  It’s just Jello.”  Secondly, she is a bathroom talker.  I personally am not offended by this habit, but Juniata HATES it.  She talks at you through the stall while peeing.  I have dubbed it “trickle talk.”  She will go days without visiting Conference Room C and then someone will get caught in the bathroom with her for a trickle talk update.  Tanya suggested that Juniata let some gas rip – maybe that would dissuade her from making conversation.  Might work.

·       China:  The other evening Tanya’s son (he is 8) was doing his homework.   She noticed that he was more focused than usual.  Out of the blue – with no particular emotion – he said to Tanya “Mom, I am going to work really hard in school so China won’t take over.”  Out of the mouths of babes. 

·       Plenty of Fish:  Did I tell you that I signed on for the free dating site Plenty of Fish?  I think I did.  Anyway, I really don’t do anything with it.  It is funny to look on and see who “wants to meet me” or if someone has actually sent me a message in my inbox.  If someone says they “want to meet me” they don’t actually send a personal message – so I typically ignore those requests.  Only a handful of men have actually sent me personal messages.  Two of those men were below the age of 25.  Really?  I don’t think so.  One of the messages was “Hi, love the smile” – cute message, but he looked like an infant.  The other message was “Hey, what’s up.  Wanna get into something?”  Again, really?  I almost responded “something like what?”, but I just let it go.  I suspect the answer would have been “my pants.”  The other few were like in their 60s.  Really? Really? Really?  It’s either one extreme or the other.  Anyway, we use the website to amuse ourselves during the day when we need a break, but today’s “meet me” took the cake.  I look at the picture of the dude and think – hey, he actually looks pretty good, he’s not 22 years old or 60, he is not holding a gun or standing in front of his bathroom mirror with his shirt off.  So I scrolled down to see what he does for a living – personal trainer – ehhh, usually I shy away from those because they typically expect their date to be a fitness freak, but he asked to meet me so I kept scrolling.  I finally get to the part  of his profile where he tells you about himself and it begins as follows:  “TIRED OF ONE SIZE FITS ALL WEIGHT LOSS PROGRAMS THAT DO NOTHING FOR YOU OR YOUR SELF ESTEEM? IF SO, IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO TRY IN HOME PERSONAL TRAINING WITH ME.” I’ll tell you what does nothing for my self-esteem guy, having you cruise the site for chunky girls, luring them in with hopes of a date only to bust out the “I DON’T WANT TO DATE YOU – I JUST WANT TO HELP YOU LOSE SOME WEIGHT.”  How about you go !@#$% yourself!!!

And that was my last few weeks – in a nutshell.  I am too tired from searching the big box retail stores for a Star Wars boys bathrobe -So I am not going to proof this blog – just ignore any goofs.  I hope you have a great Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Festivus or Christmakkah (like me!).  Love y’all.    

Sculptures, Vampires and Bugs, Oh My!!!!

I had zero intention of exercising this weekend and every intention of parking my arse in a theatre seat with a bucket of popcorn and a large Diet Coke (with extra extra ice) for the opening of Twilight Saga – Breaking Dawn (Part 1).  I mean, I get that exercise is good for you and all, but seriously, we’re talking about Twilight here – and if you learn anything about me during our time together, you must learn that vampires always trump fitness.  I would think this goes without saying, but I didn’t want to leave any confusion.  In light of the foregoing, I will give the Twilight update before moving on to fitness.  Some of you might be wondering why, if vampires are sooooooo important, I didn’t catch one of the midnight or 2:00am sneak peeks.  Well, simply put, soft pants and/or my comfy bed have at least a 50% chance of trumping vampires, particularly on a school night (also, I couldn’t talk anyone into going with me and sitting in a theatre at 2am by yourself watching vampires might cross over the line into the realm of disturbing I'm not willing to breach).  Anyway, by close of business on Sunday, I (along with my BFF Mel) managed to catch two showings of Breaking Dawn, one at 4:30pm on Friday, surrounded by mostly folk our age out to catch the early bird showing and avoid the teenagers, and one at 9:50pm on Saturday night, surrounded by spirited younger folk (and a crying baby).  No matter what Benji and Darryl say (they went with us to the 4:30 showing) – the movie is FUN and FABULOUS – and no matter what Sarah and Lisa say – the only team choice is TEAM EDWARD baby!!!  Can I get an Amen?

 

Even though I had no intentions of exercising this weekend, once my Twilight plans were lined up, I had no reason to turn down fitness invitations.  My goal is to accept all fitness invitations unless I have a legitimate excuse.  So, when Gerry invited me to take a walk in Piedmont Park with him and his dog Mocha on Saturday morning, I accepted.  Plus, he enticed me with the promise of Starbucks coffee and muffins from one of the vendors at the farmers market.  To my disappointment (and to his supposed shock) the muffin lady was absent from the farmers market that morning.  We did have our Starbucks coffee though and walked around the park for about an hour and a half with Mocha leading the way.  We took a stroll to a new area of the park that will link up with the new BeltLine Project in Atlanta.  As we were headed down one path I glanced to my right and noticed a figure standing in the middle of the path just over a newly constructed wooden bridge.  I stood still and stared at the figure across the bridge and it remained perfectly still.  I finally realized it was not an actual person.  Now I was intrigued.  I thought to myself, has someone put some kind of cardboard person in the middle of the park to freak people out?  I yelled out to Gerry, who had walked on with Mocha, “I’m going to check this out,” and I headed off towards the bridge.  When I reached the figure, I discovered that it was a thin, black metal sculpture anchored and bolted to a block of cement in the middle of the path.  Someone had drawn a face on the sculpture with pink spray paint.  It was altogether creepy.  Because it looked somewhat official I looked around for some explanation and found a marker off to the side of the path that said it was a tribute to the folks that died in connection with the historic railways the BeltLine is making use of.  Okay, I am all for a tribute, a sculpture, a memorial or whatever to remember folk for something they did or something they died for.  What I am not in favor of is a creepy, perpetrator-like, dark, menacing, human-shaped sculpture placed in the dead center of a wooded pathway of a secluded area of a public park.  Really?  Who decided that was a good idea? If I picture the person who made this decision, he (and I am 100% certain it was a he) is wearing a gray Members Only jacket and dark sunglasses.   I can’t imagine running along that path at dusk and coming within 30 yards of that thing without turning tail and running the other direction.  I feel duty bound to contact the park officials to let them know that perhaps a soothing water feature or grouping of standing stones off to the side would have been a more appropriate memorial – and such choices would certainly make park goers feel less like the Zodiac Killiller was blocking the road up ahead.  I have posted a picture of the sculpture below and would love your opinion. Maybe I am being overdramatic.

Me, Gerry and Mocha



Creepy Zodiac Killer Sculpture

On Sunday, shortly after enjoying a stack of pumpkin pancakes at Java Jive (my favorite breakfast joint), Lawrence texted me and invited me to join him at Grant Park for a walk/run.  He was planning on running eleven miles as part of his marathon training.  While I really really really wanted to say “No thanks” and just veg out on the couch, I accepted the invitation (yay me!).  He said it would take him about two hours to do his eleven miles.  I decided maybe I would walk for one hour and then sit and read at the coffee shop for the last hour.  I assumed that he ran around a track and that as he ran around I would be walking and we would pass each other several times along the way.  Well, I had that all wrong.  He typically runs “around” the park on the main roads – with an occasional detour through the park.  It was 3pm when we started our run/walk and we would be finishing around 5:00pm, just shy of sunset.  Not sure if you know, but I am a big chicken when it comes to walking around alone in areas I am not particularly familiar with.  Lawrence assured me there would be plenty of folks running and walking around and that he would likely pass me from time to time.  Once Lawrence and I parted (him running and me walking) I didn’t see him again until the last 30 minutes.  What I did see during my walk was several ladies in full burka having a picnic in the park, a blimp, a dog named Crouton and a residence-challenged man who proclaimed to me as I passed “That’s a cute ass smile momma.”  Also, the weather here in Atlanta keeps flip-flopping between chilly Fall temps and balmy Summer temps.  Sunday evening was in the 70s and it was very hazy and humid.  Apparently it was the perfect mix of wet and warm to call every gnat in existence to come swarm the area.  I got at least two gnats stuck in my eye and untold numbers sucked down my throat and stuck to the sweat on my face and neck.  It was a constant duck and swat as I made my way around the park two times in one and a half hours (Yes!  I kept walking and didn’t go to the café – again – yay me!).  When I finally ran into Lawrence at 4:30pm, he looked like a human fly paper.  He was covered in gnats!!!  He still had a mile or so left to run so he tossed me the keys to the car and headed back up the street.  As he ran away I yelled “Don’t touch those bugs; I’m going to take a picture of you when you get back!”  I’m not sure I would have been able to run another mile knowing I had a plastering of bugs stuck to me, but he did!!  The pictures are pasted below.  While you can see a speckling of gnats on his neck, the pictures don't really do his bug coverage justice.  He had bugs stuck in the sweat on neck, face, hair, etc.  He looked like the grill on the front of a sports car.  He must have really been zooming down the road!  Smelly, sweaty and bug-beadazzled, we got in the car and headed home!  All in all it was a pretty productive weekend - the perfect mix of fitness and fangs!



Lawrence covered in bugs (look closely)

 

A closer look





Ladies of the Conference Room and the Matter of the Stairwell Detainment

This will be a fairly quick update (“quick” by my definition – perhaps not yours – as I generally tend to be long-winded).  The side effects of my stairwell descent from this past Friday lasted well into Tuesday.  I still had a little “hitch in my giddyup” on Tuesday afternoon, so when CONTRACTORS Clare and Tanya asked me if I was walking the stairs after work I had to say no.  Clare left work and headed down the stairwell from hell around 4:30 and Tanya followed a couple hours later.  Tanya decided to actually run down the stairs to add a little “extra” to the workout.  She’s a crazy one that Tanya.  The lighting in the stairwell is dim and the steps are narrow – running down them is “flirting with disaster” if you ask me.  I would fall down – break my legs and end up as dinner for the rats before anyone found me.  Anyway, when Tanya got to work the next day she informed us that security stopped her in the stairwell as she reached the lobby level.  She was steady running down, down, down as she heard someone holler from above.  She remembered that one time before as she was running down she thought she heard someone holler out, but she just kept going.  Clare also noted that she thought she heard a voice when she took the stairs at 4:30, but thought nothing of it.  While this new “stairwell workout program” is great for the thighs and butt, the stairwell is honestly a bit creepy – you can imagine about 5000 scenarios why a woman should not be running down a semi-dark, deserted stairwell alone.  Like before, after she heard the person holler, she just kept on running – cell phone at the ready in case she needed to call for help.  However, this time, the hollering continued and so she stopped.  The man (whom she couldn’t see because he was at least three flights above her) was now clearly yelling “Ma’am!” down at her.  She yelled back up at the guy “Are you talking to me?” in a somewhat cocky tone of voice.  The man answered “Yes, I AM talking to you,” as he continued to walk down the steps towards her (she surely wasn’t going to climb back up the steps towards him – one, that would be stupid, she had no idea who he was or what he intended, and two, we walk DOWN the steps, we don’t walk UP).  If he wanted her, he was going to have to go get her.  So he did.  When he finally reached her, she could tell by his attire that he was building Security.  It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath, as he was actually chasing her down the steps (and he was losing the race).  He said to her “What are you doing in here?” to which she responded (still holding onto the attitude) “I’m exercising. What’s the problem?” Not amused by her attitude, the Security Guard explained “Ma’am, it is illegal to be in this stairwell.  We have been trying to catch someone in this stairwell for the past week and a half.  You are setting off alarms on every floor as you go down the steps.  What is your name and who do you work for?”  “Oh” Tanya responded (losing the attitude).  “We didn’t know that.  My fellow contract workers and I (yes, she sold us out!) have been going down the stairs to exercise.  Illegal, really?”  Since she was nearly at the bottom of the stairwell and had already triggered all of the alarms, he let her continue to the bottom with the promise that she would inform the rest of us that our exercise program was canceled, effective immediately.  Once we were all back together, had been properly briefed about the “Stairwell Detainment” and had managed to catch our breath after laughing at the knowledge that we had managed to elude the Security Guards for a week and a half while triggering alarms on 36 floors of one of Atlanta’s premier office buildings, we determined that there’s no way in hell it was actually “illegal” to use the stairwell.  We haven’t fully researched this allegation (you can be sure that we will), but we reckon the word “illegal” was thrown out by the Security Guard in response to Tanya’s snotty attitude.  Sure it might be against building policy to use the stairwell, but illegal? – unlikely.  There are no warnings posted on the door to the stairwell.  I checked.  There is only a sign that says "Stairs".  You would think there would be some sort of posting on a portal to an illegal stairwell, such as “STOP – You are entering a restricted area.  Unauthorized entry is illegal.  You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”  There isn’t so much as an “Only Use For Emergencies” note.  Regardless of the actual “illegality” of our exercise program, we are in agreement that we will no longer be making use of the stairwell from hell.  Too bad.  It was kind of fun and outrunning Security Guards would certainly increase the level difficulty. 

One other amusing anecdote from last week is that CONTRACTOR Clare’s single friends have started texting Clare for the advice of the “Ladies of the Conference Room.”  Mainly the “Dear Ladies of the Conference Room” advice revolves around relationship issues.  Through our Conference Room Outreach Program we hope to make amends for our illegal stairwell activities and restore balance to the world - one single lady at a time.    

And you thought contract work wasn't exciting.  Sheesh!

Stairway from Hell and a Message from God

See, the problem with Halloween candy is that people who have a surplus after all the tricking and treating is over end up bringing it all to the office to save them from eating it all at home.  Good for you for not binging on post-Halloween candy – but guess who is now eating all the candy you purchased and want to save yourself from eating??  ME DAMNIT!! – someone who didn’t buy tons candy in the first place because I can’t be trusted to have bags of candy laying around the house!!!!!! I guess the trick’s on me.  Next time please donate it to charity or just throw it away, mmmkay.  Needless to say I have stuffed my face for the past week on everyone else’s surplus Halloween candy.  On Friday CONTRACTOR Juniata and I had the brilliant idea that we would walk down the 40 or so flights of stairs leading from the 36^th Floor of the SunTrust Plaza building to the street.  You might wonder where I get 40 flights when we are on floor 36 – well, unbeknownst to us, there are at least 4 or 5 more flights to get from lobby level to street level and THEN, when your knees are knocking and your legs are shaking like Bill Cosby’s J-E-L-L-O, you have to actually climb a flight of stairs to get out the door.  It took us fifteen minutes to make it all the way down.  I wasn’t necessarily winded when we reached the bottom, because we took out time going down, but I was sweating (of course – I am a sweater – we’ve established that), and as mentioned, my knees were hurting and my legs were very shaky - much like the Hanker for a Hunk of Cheese guy on the School House Rock cartoon (if you remember that, if not, I've pasted a link below - check out his wobbly knees - I love the Hanker for a Hunk of Cheese guy!).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3jgo5ea_zc   (Link to YouTube School House Rock clip)

Usually the soreness won’t really manifest itself until the next day, but by the time I reached my car after our fifteen minute descent from floor 36, I could already feel pain in my thighs and calves.  By the time I woke up Saturday morning I could barely move and had to get the rolling pin out to rub my legs (front and back).  It’s times like this that a husband would come in handy.  Anyway, Saturday night as I was nursing my wounds, Lawrence texted me to ask if I wanted to go on a 20 minute jog Sunday morning.  I asked what time he was thinking of running because I already had 9:00am breakfast plans with my friends Jill and Andrew (followers of this blog of course!).  Surprisingly Lawrence suggested 7:00am (this is surprising because Lawrence is not typically an early riser).  Given my new goal to accept as many fitness invitations as I can (and since I previously committed to running with Lawrence on his 20 or 30 minute running days during his marathon training), I said “Let’s do it.”  Lawrence later confessed that he was hoping I would not accept this early morning running rendezvous.  I set my clock for 6:30am (keeping daylight savings in mind) and arrived at Lawrence’s house just shy of 7:00am.  I won’t lie and say I was able to run the whole 20 minutes without stopping, but I did manage to run at least half of the time if not more.  I would run until my lungs were screaming and I was about to hyperventilate and then I would walk for a spell.  Lawrence mentioned that he told Darryl (who lives across the street from Lawrence) that we were running in the morning and that Darryl's response was “Amy’s running?  Does she have a sports bra”?  I’ll have you know that I have several sports bras and I wear at least two of them while doing any vigorous exercise!!  The problem is not “do I have” – in the words of Little Mermaid, “I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty, I've got whozits and whatzits galore.  You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty! But who cares? No big deal. I want more!”  I’ve got exercise videos (VHS and CD), hand weights, leg weights, a 20 pound weight vest (yes, really, it looks like a bullet proof vest), jump ropes, tension bands, thigh-a-mabobs, exercise ball, 5 pound kettlebell, treadmill, bicycle . . . . .   the problem is not “do I have,” but “will I use.”  If there was a full scale fitness crisis in the US – I’d be ready!!!

So, what was the message from God?  I’m not sure if any of you know why I went to law school in the first place, but I assure you it was not to make tons of money in the high-powered world of big law. Yeah, I knew there were lawyers in the world who made tons of money, but I never imagined myself in that world.  Some of that might have something to do with a lack of confidence in myself, but mostly I just saw myself doing something different.  I got the idea to go to law school while doing an internship in 1999 at the Mediation Center of Asheville in connection with getting my Masters in Counseling.  Most of the mediators were lawyers and I thought it would be an rewarding career.   So I went to law school.  Now, most lawyers will say they originally wanted to go to law school to “help people” – a few of those folks were telling the truth, but a good number were just saying what they needed to say to write their personal statements for law school applications – no one wants to say they want to go to law school to make lots of money or because their parents are both lawyers – so what the heck.  But I really did want to help people – I wasn’t opposed to making a decent living while helping people, but helping people was always the goal.  When I ended up doing very well in law school and getting swept off my feet by big law, I sort of lost sight of that original goal (as many of us do).  Yeah, I did pro bono when I had the time, but, believe it or not, real estate was very busy once and I didn’t have a lot of spare time.  Even after being swept off my feet I always knew that I would not stay in big law forever.  I often said I was on the “five year plan.”  Again, when you are really busy and don’t have much time for a breath, five years goes by in a blink (scary, I know).  So instead of five years going by, eight years went by. I guess when the real estate world came to a screeching halt, it gave me time to take a breath and evaluate my career goals.  Hence the turning in of my notice and self-evaluating sabbatical to Ireland.  Anyway, my friend Robin called me the other day and mentioned how she had taken this great course to get certified in mediation.  It got me thinking back to 1999 when I decided to go to law school and my original goal of doing mediation.  So, I am not going to ignore the message.  Mediation courses are not cheap and it is not easy to get started in mediation, but it’s along the lines of what I always saw myself doing and it’s worth looking into.  I wanted to pass this along to my faithful followers who wonder what the heck I am going to do with myself.  Just when you think the light at the end of the tunnel has been temporarily turned off, you get a spark!!  Thanks for triggering my spark Robin!!!  I will keep you posted on this front. 

Ciao, for now..  



Heading out for our 7am jog!!!!

  

My gadgets and gizmos a-plenty!


 

Alternate view of my gadets and gizmos!



Ball Wipes and Bicycles

[WARNING:  This post contains a lengthy discussion about a man's balls – Proceed at your own risk]

Ok, so this week in CONTRACT land was a bit bizarre.  First, I learned that my fellow contractors would rather be in an office of their own (window or not) rather than in the conference room as a group long-term.  Not that they don’t enjoy the company, but long-term they would rather have their own space.  I, on the other hand, quite enjoy the companionship of the room and would have no problem if the gig lasted a few months longer.  When I said to the group – “I love being in the room with y’all, being able to chat whenever I want,” CONTRACTOR Tanya’s response was, “I can tell.”  Not quite sure how to take that.  Anyway, on Friday as we were winding down for the week my fellow contractors and I came up with, what we believe will be, a multi-million dollar idea.  We were randomly chatting (and hey, I’m not the only chatter box in the room – no matter what CONTRACTOR Tanya thinks) about all the commercials out there designed to humiliate a woman and/or make her feel like her nether regions need a freshening up.  There are sprays, deodorants, wipes, powders and whatnot for “freshening” the vagina.  There are yeast infection commercials – where a girl stands looking at herself in a storefront window in gray baggy clothes knowing she can’t possibly interact with the human population until she buys a soothing over-the-counter crème.  There are razor commercials where the bushes (yes, I said bushes – and I am sure the symbolism is not lost on you) change form as a woman walks by into nice svelte well-groomed bushes.  There is a new commercial (I think it's about fighting odor too, but I can't remember) where the phrase “hail to the V” is used (yes, meanng vagina).  I mean REALLY???  So one of us said, “why aren’t there as many humiliating products out there relating to the smell of a man’s privates” – and that’s when we came up with the idea of “Ball Wipes.”  See the problem is, society has not created in men the same insecurities as they have in women.  By seeing the advertisements on TV and in magazines we start to believe that the natural scent of our vagina is somehow bad and that our vaginas are really meant to smell like lavender or a summer’s breeze.  We decided we needed to start a grass-roots campaign to freshening up the balls.  To help men understand that perhaps their balls were meant to smell like woodland hills or pine chips or the bark of an oak tree.  The more and more we thought of this idea the better it sounded.  We spent much of the day on Friday canvasing our friends and family.  The men, as expected, were not initially overwhelmed with the idea.  Of course, that’s because men are still under the impression that there’s nothing wrong with the smell of their balls.  Women, on the other hand, were enthusiastically in favor of a ball freshening wipe for men.  A few examples of responses were:

·        CONTRACTOR Juniata’s mother:  “Hon, are you sitting next to a stinky man on the subway?” [side bar – if you can smell your balls through your clothing “Ball Wipes” will not help you – you must seek medical attention.  After Juniata explained further why we were creating the product for men, she simply stated “well, they need them.”

·        CONTRACTOR Clare’s brother:  “Interesting”

·        CONTRACTOR Tanya’s brother-in-law: “We don’t need a wipe, we can just take a shower” – Right, cause women can’t take showers – that’s why we need 5000 products to make our vaginas smell like morning glories.

·        My Sister Lisa: “Men should have something anyway, I’m tired of them disparaging the vagina.  I think mine smells wonderful.  Balls however always smell untoward.  You have my blessing.”

·        My Friend Olivia:  “I think they do need their own line of crap.  Do it.  Wipe the balls.”

·        My Friend Darryl: “I think the gays would be all over it. . . It might be harder to sell to the straight men, as usual!  But it could have potential.”

With our mixed reviews (100% support from women and only gay men in our corner) we drew up a crude contract (pictured below) and I reached out to my law school buddy and Intellectual Property attorney.  I worried that he might think I was joking – so I made sure to put “I’m not joking” in my email to him.  His response was as follows:

“Ball Wipes – nice.  I definitely have some interesting friends.  One of my female high school friends recently wanted serious legal advice on the legality of moonshining in one’s home.  Now another friend wants advice on ball wipes.  You’re killing me!!  You could get Jimmy Johnson to do the commercials (used to be the Cowboys football coach). He already does Extendz commercials, which is for a pill that is supposed to enlarge your twig.  Now you can have a larger twig and clean berries!!” 

A few emails went by with him asking about how I was doing, how was Ireland.  I had to redirect him back to Ball Wipes, as he wasn’t taking my issue seriously.  Finally he responded with some actual legal advice:

“Don’t see much patentable potential in wipes to clean your nuts since wipes have been around forever to clean various “surfaces.”  This would be an obvious extension of cleaning wipes as far as the patent office is concerned.  However, you could certainly trademark the name and any other catchy nut-cleaning jingle that you come up with to sell these things.”

As the day came to a close, we had our idea, our “initial” reaction from friends and family, a bit of advice from an IP attorney and our “contract.”  We knew we had our work cut out for us, but we figured with the right marketing spin and support from women and gay men we could do ANYTHING!!!  Later that night CONTRACTOR Juniata did a bit of research (she is very committed to this product) and emailed us (the subject line of her email read “sweaty balls”).  She forwarded a link to a website for a product being launched in the UK called "Fellas" wipes (fellaswipes.com), we all agreed that the name of their wipe and their marketing is for shit and we are not worried at all about ball wipes competition from across the pond.  A bit after that CONTRACTOR Tanya emailed us and said that the whole concept of Ball Wipes has led to some pretty interesting discussions in her circle of friends/family and that her metro-sexual brother-in-law (previously canvased for his opinion) is now the butt of several “sweaty ball” jokes at his office – no surprise as he is an IT guy who works with mostly men.  One of the guys forwarded her a blog discussing the “sweaty ball” subject pasted here:

http://www.steadyhealth.com/sweaty_balls_t143247.html

Hey – at least we have folks talking about it!!!  It won’t be long until men realize that their balls are supposed to smell like pine straw!!!!  This is going to be big y’all!!!!!!  Don’t be surprised when you see us on The View.

On the fitness front – yeah, hard to follow a sweaty balls discussion with my fitness update, but I must quickly mention that I purchased a bicycle this weekend.  My friend’s partner passed away two years ago and he had a bike that he only used a couple of times.  It is a $500 REI bike and he sold it to me for $100.  I am excited to have the bike and look forward to being invited on bike rides from those of you who also have bikes!!!!  Keep me in mind.

That’s all for now.  Ciao!

The "Ball Wipes" Contract

My New Bike!!!

Last Dance and a Bit of Nudity

Well, last Tuesday was our last belly dancing class.  There was no certificate, no whoop and holler, no cookies.  After we ran through the dance for the final time the instructor simply walked back over to the sign-in desk and that was that. While Deborah and I both thoroughly enjoyed our five weeks of belly dancing, we agreed that the last class was a little lacking in ceremony.  I mean, I don’t know about you, but folk in my world don’t learn a belly dance every day.  It’s not often that I strap on a jingly bell sash and shake my bon bons.  I mean I have been known to shake my bon bons, but not under such tutelage.  We expected at least a little break from the normal pump and grind on our last day.  Oh well.  We learned the final flourishing moves to bring our dance to a close and headed out into the rainy night.  Deborah and I ended our five weeks much like we began them - stuffing our faces and drinking adult beverages.  We met up at Felini’s Pizza afterwards and split a pizza and a bottle of wine.  The chick at the register actually carded us!!!!  Four months away from 40 and we get carded.  Maybe there is something to this belly dancing after all.  Prior to leaving class that night we asked the instructor about the belly dancing workout class (shimmying sans the choreography).  We might check out a class or two to see if we like it.  Nonetheless, I need to figure out my next fitness adventure – and quick!!!!  This blog can’t survive on pooch encounters and panic attacks alone!  Well, maybe it could, but that won’t help me get any skinnier!!  Lawrence is going to start training for another marathon in November and I might join him on the days he runs for 30 minutes.  Oh, did you think I was going to say I would train for and run the marathon too?  Silly person. 

This past weekend (not the one we just had, but the one before that) Lisa, Greg and the kids (my niece and nephew) were in town.  We hung out, ate out and went to the Korean spa, you know, the usual.  What?  Family day at the Korean spa is not the norm for you?  Well, then you are the poorer for it.   I discovered the JeJu Sauna a few years ago and Lisa and I have been going occasionally ever since.  The JeJu Sauna is modeled after a traditional Korean bath house and is quite famous around the country (or so I’m told).  It is open 24 hours and costs $25 a person per 24 hours.  You are issued a uniform (cotton elastic waist pants and a t-shirt (pink for girls / yellowish for boys) and a toothbrush when you arrive.  Once you have your gear, the boys head to their locker rooms and the girls head to theirs.  Through the locker room you can access the girls only (or boys only depending on your parts) wet room where the sauna, steam room, hot tubs, massage and scrub services and bathing areas are.  Out in the common areas where boys and girls can intermix (wearing your uniforms) is where you will find individual saunas for meditation and relaxation.  A few examples are The Rock Salt Room, the Red Clay Room and The Charcoal Room.  Each sauna provides a different benefit (i.e. relieves stress, strengthens the cardiovascular system, removes toxins, etc.).  No shoes are allowed anywhere in the JeJu – so once you enter your locker room you deposit your shoes in the shoe cubbies right inside the door.  The floors in the common areas are heated so your tootsies won’t get cold.  Korean folk are sprawled out all over the place in the common areas taking naps.  There is also a food court serving Korean food – and smoothies.  Lisa and I made the mistake of ordering the Kimchi one time and quickly learned that no matter how long we stayed in the healing saunas, nothing was going to soothe the bubblin’ crude that was about to erupt from our intestines (and that’s all I’m gonna say about that).  Anyway, back in the women only wet areas (as I don’t really know what goes on in the men only areas) everyone is naked.  Many of you already know the story of when Lisa and I went to the JeJu for the first time, but I will do a quick recap here for those of you who haven’t.  Lisa and I read the website prior to going and knew that there was a room where folk were mostly naked, but the website indicated that if you weren’t comfortable with being naked you could wear your bathing suits or use the towels provided by the spa.  Well, when we first got into the locker rooms we decided to just wear the uniforms provided for us.  We made it to the door of the wet room and glanced in – everyone was naked.  We went back to our lockers and decided to put our bathing suits – and walked back to the door of the wet room – saw a sign that said no clothing in the hot tubs.  We went back to our lockers and stripped down to our birthday suits.  On our way into the wet room we grabbed a towel – it was the size of a kitchen dish towel.  The only way you could use the towel to cover up your important bits would be to actually hold it in place against your body (which would just look silly).  Naked and all, we went straight for the hot tub.  After being in the wet room for about ten minutes it went from being totally weird and awkward to being totally liberating.  The women around us were all shapes and sizes, all ages, all races – and we were all naked.   There is a room in the wet room where the services take place - mostly scrubs.  The room consists of ten or so plastic covered tables.  Five on one side and five on the other side - all out in the open.  If you so choose, you can get a "scrub" - If you ask Lisa, this means a nice exfoliating scrub, leaving your skin smooth and supple.  If you ask me, this means a torturous technique where the skin is literally removed from the bones.  To each her own I guess.  The funny thing about this room is that the staff (all Korean women of course) are not naked or in uniform (matching bathing suits or otherwise).  No, they are in their un-matching bras and panties.  While you are being exfoliated (if you are Lisa) or wounded (if you are me) the women yell back and forth to each other in Korean - all the while scrubbing each nook and cranny (yes, all of them) and telling you to occasionally "turn side".

We were worried about how my niece would handle the nudity, as we had not warned her in advance and she is getting to be that age where nudity matters.  Lisa was worried that if we warned her ahead of time, it would make a big deal out of it and she wouldn’t want to go.  She, like us, was hesitant at first and chose to wear her bathing suit.  After she entered the wet room and noticed that everyone else was naked (even the kids – some her age) you could literally see the thoughts going through her head.  She felt out of place in her bathing suit.  I said to her “why don’t you just take it off and if you want to, you can put it back on.”  She said “yeah, Ok” and took it off.  It took about ten minutes for the transformation to take place and then she totally loved it.  You could tell that she enjoyed the freedom of it all and the fellowship of the women.  I don’t think she felt like a kid while she was back in the women only area.  She probably just felt like a female – enjoying the company of other females – each having shed all of her inhibitions, which is a rare encounter indeed.  I am as self-conscious as they come about my body.  I hate putting on a swim suit – hell I don’t even wear shorts anymore.  But for some reason, back in the women only wet room of the JeJu Sauna, with everything stripped away and nothing to hide behind – we all just become women, naked and beautiful. 

Greg informs us that there are big screen TVs all over the walls in the men’s only side.  I am guessing the men aren’t having the same “bonding” experience as the women.  Maybe the TVs are there so they don’t have to look at each other’s junk.  Who knows

Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

So I interrupted this “in progress” post to share with you the post about my encounter with the unidentified wild animal.   Hopefully you enjoyed it, but now we should get back to our regularly scheduled program.  Just to update you quickly on the last two belly dancing classes – I believe we have learned nearly the entire dance (which beginning to end lasts less than three minutes).  In my mind, the only thing missing from my dance (I mean other than a person who actually looks sexy doing it) is a grand flourish of an ending.  I attempted to practice the choreography this weekend at the cabin but drew a total blank towards the end.  I knew there were “choreography notes” on the studio’s website so I decided to look them up and give myself a quick refresher.  I located the notes on the website and they might as well have been written in wingdings font (for those of you not familiar with “wingdings font” – here is a sampler: (ioikammellowarea).  I am NOT exaggerating.  I mean seriously?  For beginners I would hope the notes would be “written for dummies” – sort of like “Ok girls, remember to do your tippy toe steps and then turn in your circle thingy and then you do that again and do another circle thingy and then you do your shimmy shimmy and then you spin around.”  That’s the type of notes that would work for me – NOT “1^st 8: 1-2 is R s-s-s, 3-4 is L s-s-s w/ arms in standard W. 5-8 is 4 X R small traveling Egyptian hip twists in CW circle L hand behind head, R arm straight out from shoulder finger tips towards ceiling – remember to isolate!”  As soon as I arrived at class this week I asked the instructor to do a quick refresher for us because the dance notes made me want to curl up in the fetal position and go to my happy place.  She said “no problem, everyone complains about them” – weeelll, shouldn’t that prompt some sort of  revision of the notes?  They should let me re-write them! 

Anyway, I was totally out of sorts in belly dancing class this week.  Not only did I arrive at class not remembering the last bit of the dance, but my mind was totally on other things.  I just felt 100,000 miles away during the lesson and I think the instructor noticed.  I am proud of myself for actually going to the class – it was touch and go there for about an hour until I finally decided I had to go.  Where was my mind - if not on belly dancing?   I learned earlier in the day that I have to testify at a hearing involving a foreclosure I conducted TWO STINKING YEARS AGO!!!  While I was in Ireland I was contacted by an attorney regarding this same foreclosure.  The hearing was supposed to happen in July while I was still out of the country.  I provided my statement via affidavit which I had notarized in Skibbereen, County Cork and then I mailed it overnight to the US – none of which was easy to accomplish – I assure you.  As my luck would have it, the hearing did NOT happen while I was in Ireland – and now it is scheduled to happen next month. Yay!!  Goody!! Super fantastic!!!   Now that I am back on US soil they want me to testify in person, which means opposing counsel gets to cross examine me and do her best to make it look like I screwed it all up so that her poor helpless client who borrowed millions of dollars is not responsible for paying a deficiency.  Learning all this just took me back to that place again – that worrisome and stressful place (a place VERY VERY VERY far away from my happy place).  So, because I was in “that place” again it was difficult for me to be totally present during class.  I pretty much stayed in “that place” all night and had difficulty sleeping.  Go away worrisome / stressful place!!!!  You are not welcome here!!!!!  The next day CONTRACTOR Tanya asked “why do you care about that foreclosure” – “well, I don’t know, I just do.”  The look on her face said she didn’t understand why it was causing me such distress.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a good explanation for her. 

My out-of-sortness is probably also being perpetuated by my “between book status.”  It happens every time I finish a good book or collection of books.  I know I need to jump to a new book (and I have plenty of books to choose from), but I always feel reluctant moving on.  I know I will like the new book if I just give it a chance, but I really miss the old book.  I inevitably have a couple days where I am just stuck in book purgatory.  Yes, I realize that this post is a little depressing and I have just pointed out to all of you that I am a chronic worry freak who has book separation anxiety.  Luckily most of you already knew this.

I’m also on my period (or having my “lady days” if you prefer).  Sorry male followers.  It is what it is.  No matter how much “Dove for Men” soap Darryl puts in my bathroom, I am still a girl.  Period happens. 

I wish all the blogs could be funny and happy, but unfortunately “scary trials designed to make me look like an inadequate attorney” + “book purgatory” + “lady days” does not = happy funny blog.  I’ll try harder next time. 

To Conclude (and yes, I think we can all agree, it’s time to bring this post to a close), next week is our final belly dancing class.  It doesn’t look like there will be any final exam or special recital (thank God) to recognize our having mastered (and I use that term loosely) the dance.  I assume that on this final day we will run through the entire dance “from the top” no less than 500 times (to ensure our proficiency) and then we will simply be released into the world – having reached belly dancing enlightenment. 

Maybe we’ll get a certificate, or a sticker . . . . or cookies.

I'll go away now.