Archive for December, 2010

New Year’s Resolutions & Other Unnecessary (or Unattainable)Goals

December 31, 2010

I don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t over eat, don’t eat too much junk, don’t need to lose weight, don’t need to get laid, don’t curse, don’t have any credit cards to pay down, don’t have any overarching goals to accomplish and don’t have any pressing, nagging changes that need to be made. So…my New Year’s resolutions are, at best, a mish mosh of half-hearted, conventional and unconventional, unnecessary but creative ideas I’d kinda like see come to fruition if I didn’t have other pressing issues at hand. In other words, here’s a list of wishes, not resolutions.

  • Complain less
  • Quit coffee
  • Have a nice black and white photo op done of D and I
  • Spend less
  • Save more
  • Spend less time on the computer
  • Visit/attend/become a member of a zen buddhist retreat center
  • Eat more raw foods
  • Get to the bottom of my indigestion issues
  • Sing more
  • Yell less at my kids
  • Take the online business certification course from Rutgers with my brother
  • Figure out what to do about grad school
  • Publish “Fertility” in a decent magazine
  • Maintain my sense of self
  • Relax
  • Work harder
  • Write more
  • Find a cause and support it continuously
  • Be more consistent with exercise
  • Go camping/rock climbing/ hiking
  • Go easy on the unsolicited advice
  • Remain neutral
  • Be more open-minded
  • Be patient (OK, now we’re getting into trying to change my personal nature- good luck with this one)
  • Be positive
  • Judge less
  • Let go
  • Take risks
  • Be more ambitious
  • Worry less…
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Crossed off my list for good

December 31, 2010

My kids and I recently took an 8 hour drive up to Canada, just for kicks. We had nothing else to do for three days and thought it would be fun to just drive and hop a relatively close border. And it was. We got pulled over at border patrol, our car was searched, and I was told I needed “permission” from my ex to leave the country, which I knew, but forgot to get. They let us cross anyway and so, we made it to Ottawa by dinner.

We wandered down Dalhousie Street to Byward Market and amid a grouping of rather cool pubs (which I would have preferred in a pinch if I were with D) I noticed the slumping facade of the Hard Rock Cafe. Oh let’s go here! I immediately remembered my youthful self, circa 1989, and the envy of all my friends when I told them I’d not only been to the Hard Rock Cafe in NYC, but in London as well (remember the eighties when you collected visits to the Hard Rock Cafe and that made you so cool? And then that goofy Planet Hollywood came out and tried to whoop up the same fervor, but never really did, and you suddenly weren’t cool if you liked that place?).

Anyway, I thought my boys would love the HRC. And they did! But the truth is, the food was horrifying. Everything tasted fake and enhanced. J’s burger had that fake char-grilled smoke flavor on it. The sweet potato fries had some weird aftertaste and the salad had rubbery fake chicken, diced perfectly into tiny squares and yellowish white iceberg lettuce (who makes salads with just iceberg lettuce anymore?). On the walls were Britney Spear’s blue sequined shirt, Eminem’s high top sneakers (and maybe even his stinky socks), a turtleneck sweater from Alanis Morissette and a pair of ripped jeans from Shania Twain. Back in my day they had Ringo Starr’s drum pack, Jimmy Page’s guitar and Prince’s purple overcoat. Hard rock memorabilia that hung on the walls where famous people sat down and had a Guinness at the bar. The crowds now? People like me with their babies screaming and their kids running around tables, knocking over trays of rubbery chicken and greasy fries.

So, this got me thinking, firstly, that I will never go back to any Hard Rock Cafe, no matter how big the guitar above their front door. And secondly, that I will probably never go back to a long line of other crappy places. And so, this morning’s blog is my top ten “Crossed off my list for good” list. What’s on yours?

1. Hard Rock Cafe
2. Chuckie Cheese
3. Sahara Sam’s
4. Miniature Golfing (any of them!)
5. Medieval Times
6. Planet Hollywood (does this place even exist anymore?)
7. Gillette, Wyoming
8. Hostal Pedregalejo, Malaga Spain
9. Mars 2112
10. Midtown Manhattan during the Christmas holidays
11. Albuquerque, NM
12. “The Pub” in Pennsauken
13. The Berlin flea market
14. A bowling tournament
15. Being 142 lbs
16. Anywhere (except locally) on New Year’s Eve
17. Getting my hair bleached
18. A football game at any stadium
19. The Mummer’s Parade
20. Any parade…
21. Friday’s
22. The top of the Empire State Building

Escape to Canada

December 28, 2010

 

Crossing the border

Crossing the border

The thought has occurred to me more than once. Buy property in Canada, you know, if America gets a little nuts. Not that it hasn’t already. In fact, I probably should have left long ago. But here are a few links to some stunning homes– none of which I can afford– in Nova Scotia, just in case. So who’s with me? Who wants to chip in a buy one of these babies?

Dexter’s Tavern

Ocean Front, Rustic Charm

One of a Kind

Beautiful Family Home with Income

Stunning

Hubbard’s Cove

Energy Efficient, Fireproof and Sound Proof

Sea King Point

Midtown Manhattan with kids and a neurotic, anxiety-ridden woman, filled with thoughts of imminent doom

December 18, 2010

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D and I are taking the kids up to NYC today; Rockafella Center, FAO Schwartz, etc. etc. What to any normal human being is usually considered a fun day trip in the city, to me, it is a day spent quieting the obsessive voices of imminent doom and certain death that run through my brain while trying to appear normal and “happy.” That’s not to say I won’t entirely enjoy myself. I will. But I’ll have to work hard for it. I’ll have to fight what many would consider a severe case of generalized anxiety disorder. For example, it’s not a stretch for me to believe that there will be a terrorist around every street corner. A tall building will fall on my head. We will be mugged, shot, victimized, kidnapped, beat up. A bridge will collapse. A car bomb will explode. Someone will get lost. I will die. We’ll all die.

Luckily, this type of thinking doesn’t keep me home. It’s not so severe that I am unable to overcome it and get out of the house. I’m used to it. My little neighborhood street in the middle of no where is about to explode into a million tiny bits too, while I’m naked in the shower, of course. And yet, New York City is a scary place.

So, wish me luck today. And if you read this, Shhhhh…don’t tell D or my kids what’s going on inside my little ol’ brain. I’m going to try my best to pretend that I’m normal. Oh lookie there! It’s the tree!