Preparations List
Plastic sheeting. Duct tape. Deoderant. This site tells you everything you need to know in the event of a terrorist attack. Thank you, Derek, for caring enough to share this vital information.

I Feel Like Hoofing*
*not to be confused with huffing

Went to go see 42nd Street at the Palace Theater last night. My friend Margaret and I went as guests of one of my vendors. Stopped for coctails and hors d'ouvres at a neat place on E. 4th called Pickwick and Frolic. It's in the former S.S. Kresge Building, which used to be the old Cleveland Opera House. Martinis were yummy--I had a vodka gimlet--and there was a nice ecclectic arrangement of goodies to nibble on. Then we took a shuttle over to the Palace--a really pretty old theater--shame there are no pics on your website, Playhouse Square! The Pittsburgh Cultural Trust has pictures on their website. Just goes to show you again how far superior Pittsburgh is to Cleveland. [Smirk.] Oh wait, the show. I've been to/been involved with a lot of musicals in my lifetime, but somehow I never saw this one. I'm really glad I did. True, it was the Cleveland cast on a Thursday night with the part of Billy Lawlor played by his understudy, but it was an energetic, well-danced, and well-sung show. Makes me want to take up tap. Or at least wear tap pants. Sparkly ones.

Shuffling Off to Puerto Rico
Got a busy weekend coming up. My first class with SHRM at CSU is this Saturday from 8 to 5. I'm excited, but it's unfortunate timing. I'm heading out to PR for our manager's convention on Sunday morning and I really haven't done any packing or preparing, other than buying my formal dress. Got to cram it in tonight--heading off to Old Navy to look for some springy clothes--and tomorrow after class. Gotta spend some time with the hubby somewhere in there, too. At least I finished all of my presentation stuff yesterday so that's one less thing to worry about. The resort we're staying in does have dataports in all the rooms, along with other ammenities, so don't fret. I will be blogging.

Trip to CVS
I had been having some intestinal distress for the last week, so I went to CVS to to buy a First Response to rule out possible pregnancy. It's so strange. I remember being at Penn State and going in for a check up at University Health. It didn't matter if you came in bleeding from your eyeball, they'd always ask "Do you think you might be pregnant?" Now I feel like I'm doing the same thing to myself. If you read the content in any "Could I Be Pregnant?" web article, or take any quiz, every symptom could mean a possible pregnancy. Gums bleeding? Breath unusually bad? You could be pregnant. Or a redneck, I'm not quite sure how that goes.

Still Cheaper than a Baby, Right?
I am not pregnant, according to the pee stick, if anyone is keeping score. I am on my last pack of pills, however, which means I had to purchase some "alternative methods of birth control." I haven't bought condoms in almost five years, and was unpleasantly surprised to learn that Trojans at CVS cost $4.99 for a THREE PACK. With tax, that's a buck-seventy-eight a pop, literally. And we're planning on 3 months of this. So that's, what, like, $14,000.

So Confused
I also bought some prenatal vitamins, which my doctor recommended I start taking 3-6 months before conception. They say right on the lable: "PRENATAL VITAMINS WITH MINERALS. DIETARY SUPPLEMENT for pregnant or lactating women." Then over on the left of the label, next to the supplement facts, there is a little disclaimer that says, "If you are pregnant or nursing a baby [layman's talk for 'lactating'], ask a doctor before using this product." Hrrrmmm.

Somewhat Disturbing
While I was shopping for my pregnancy test, condoms, and prenatal vitamins (covering all bases), there was a 70 year old man next to me picking out a "personal lubricant" for his girlfriend. Now I'm pleased as punch that he's still kickin' it at 70. I hope we all are. But it was still somewhat disturbing watching him mull over the differences between jelly and liquid. [Shiver.]

A Special Message
You all mean so much to me, that I left you a special message. Enjoy.

Site Meter
Added a site meter today and in the course of it I screwed up my HTML again. I'll fix it somehow....

Woo-hoo!!
I rock.

Mmm...Sprinkles
My postings have been focusing a lot on babies, homemaking and shopping these days. Christ on a cross, when did I get so dull? I am going to make Valentine's Day cupcakes tonight. Now that is exciting. Taking quite a risk turning that oven all the way up to 350 degrees. And there will be red sprinkles. Batten the hatches, Prudence McGillicutty!

Last Friday I spent an evening with my friend Karen, who has a 7-month-old baby boy. We ate leftover pasta and drank some really good wine, played with the baby (well, I played mostly with the baby's toys) and watched a show about Parisian luxury apartments. I remember thinking -- and I think I actually said outloud -- how much I was enjoying not hanging out in a loud, crowded, smokey bar--not having to worry about impressing or being 'on' for my company. And I really meant that...we had a nice, relaxing evening. But then I think my Id rebelled. After leaving Karen's I went to the GLBC and had a couple with my friend Carey (Scarey Carey, as she's known to the troops). Carey invited me to a loud, crowded, smokey storefront where there was an "art exhibit" (no art on the walls) and a punk rock show happening. It was awesome. It was raw and raucous. It was boozey and ebullient. It was very reminiscent of -- this is for all you Pittsburgh people -- Rickety Tuesdays/Thursdays, and the basement of the Chatam Coffee House. I felt, oh, 5-7 years younger. Yep, that would put it at about the right timeline. Carey introduced me to her friend Jake who pens an awesome comic called "Crosston." His work reminds me a bit of Adrian Tomine's. We all went to a party -- Ricky joined up later -- and drank in the kitchen until about 4:30. Then we went to Jake's and drank in his kitchen until 5:30. I hadn't done that in quite awhile, and I was pretty pleased with myself when I got home.

I remembered later that day why I don't do that anymore. My body hates me when I do that. But it was still fun.

Pittsburgh DIY
There was a really good article about the Mr. Robot Project in the Post-Gazette today. Check it out. And while you're at it, check out the (((microwaves))) and The Human Brains. Good stuff.

So much for activism
I received a rather pissy email response from a J. Washington from the Women's Health Network, who had asked to be cc'd on any communication sent to the president regarding the appointment of Dr. Hagar (see 2/11's posting). She told me that my information was "severely outdated" and that I should check their website for more current information. It appears to be no more current than my original source, Ms. Washington. Beg yer pardon.

Amen

My problem lies in reconciling my gross habits with my net income.
Errol Flynn (1909 - 1959)

Yeah, actually after re-reading this posting, my life is nothing like this. I have no "gross" habits, unless you include picking my nose, which doesn't cost anything, the last time I checked. I supposed you could get a ticket for flinging your boogers in a public place, who knows.

I did just spend a lot of money on a coctail dress for a work function. But that's for work, right -- doesn't indicate that I have a lavish spending streak which cannot be balanced with my humble means. It's a kick-ass dress, too. I've spent the last hour looking for a pic to link to, but I can't find one. Must not be this year's model. So I really could have spent more money, you see.

Huh?
My friend Brendan forwarded me an email today about Bush's appointment of Hagar to the FDA's Reproductive Health Drugs Advisory Committee. I found it very disturbing. Most people would consider me "pro-choice," and I could summarize my thoughts best by saying that no woman should ever have to make the decision to have an abortion. Emphasis on the preventative. That's right, birth control. Family planning. And, yeah, abstinence education, not as the only option, but as an option.

So I don't understand Bush's thinking behind this guy's appointment. If you read the article, it's obvious this "pro-lifer" extends his philosophy onto responsible family planning. He refused in the past to prescribe BCPs to unmarried women, and he endorsed a medically inaccurate claim that regular BCPs are abortifacients. Doesn't the Bush administration support family values? Don't these values begin when women and men are able to choose the most appropriate time to start a family-- when they are financially and emotionally able to support children?

My mother taught me that sex was a natural part of life, but if I chose to have sex I would have to accept the responsibilities and consequences of my decision. She taught my brother the same thing. I plan on passing these lessons on to my children as well. I just hope that by then my government still believes that its citizens are capable of making this decision on their own.

Oh, wait. That's right. It is my government. It's your government, too. Don't forget to email the president.

What Am I Eating?

I've had a couple of really weird dreams the past couple of nights. Here's one:

Rick and I are walking through one of those 'big box' stores...Target, WalMart, you pick...and we come upon a stock boy who has a big, grey dog on a leash. Looks like an Irish Wolfhound (the dog, that is). The stock boy offers to give us the dog, and we take it home with us. I don't really remember any conversation between us, we just accept the dog as a gift. From the stock boy. Huh.

This one I had last night:
In the beginning of the dream I'm pregant, and I'm surrounded by family, and everyone is asking me if I know the sex. In the midst of all of this, a strange gypsy-like woman appears and tells me if I want to know the sex of the baby, I should make this special, mystical soup. So we get a big bowl and start mixing all sorts of weird stuff in it, like raw eggs, yogurt, pureed fruit and herbs. She tells me to look in the bowl and the soup will tell me the sex of my baby and what I will name it. The soup tells me I'm going to have a girl, and her name will be "Ambrosia."

"Ambrosia?!?" I holler. "I'm not naming any kid of mine 'Ambrosia.'"

Then the dream fast forwards, and I'm having the baby. It doesn't appear that I'm in labor or experiencing any pain, I'm just 'having a baby.' The baby comes and it's a boy, about a year and a half old. The boy looks a lot like Rick as a baby: he's very blond and cherubic. Oddly, the baby can speak, in complete sentences, and we start to have conversations about the gypsy woman. He thanks me for not naming him 'Ambrosia.'

My New Career as a Porn Star
This past Sunday was the GLBC "Non-Denominational Holiday Party." The restaurant industry never gets to have a holiday party over the actual holidays, you see, since it tends to be one of the busiest times of times of the year. I guess it really could have been a Groundhog Day party. Oop, happy anniversary, Deb and Jim.

So we had a raffle at the party. Everyone got one ticket for attending the party, and then we had the opportunity to buy more tickets at $5 a shot. Prizes ranged from gift cards from Target, to "fart alarms," to DVD players, to a large cash pot of nearly $600. One of the prizes offered was a game called Dirty Minds, where players hear three suggestive phrases and need to guess the mundane thing that they are describing.

Example:
"I'm the wettest spot on the planet."
"I smell fishy."
"You can plunge into me."
Answer: THE OCEAN, you dirty old coots!

The executive chef's lady was running the raffle, and my husband was hamming it up as "Her Lovely Assistant." Just as Rick pulled the ticket for the game he announced, "Who's the lucky PORN STAR to go home with this fine prize tonight?"

And wouldn't you know it. Yep. He pulled my ticket.

I slowly raised my hand to claim my prize. The crowd roared. My face burned.

And if that wasn't horrifying enough, I missed the cash prize by one ticket. D'oh! Luckily, liquor heals all wounds, and at a non-denominational holiday/Groundhog's Day party thrown by a microbrewery, there tends to be a lot of booze. We had a very fun time, although we did NOT play the game when we got home.