February 4, 2010
Cats are funny.
For the past month or so, Welly has gotten into a morning routine. So routine in fact, he literally does it every day. It goes something like this:
Dave and Welly get up
Dave feeds Welly
Welly follows Dave around while he gets ready for work
Dave leaves for work
Welly naps on the couch; waits for me to get up
I get up
Welly gets up, gets into our bed and sleeps
I think it’s so hilarious that he waits for me to get out of bed before he tries to get in it. Sometimes we’ll even cross paths as I’m leaving the bedroom and he’s entering. Apparently he really digs the warm spot.
February 2, 2010
Recently I was watching a trashy show on MTV (no, I’m not going to tell you which one) and I saw a commercial for a show called The Buried Life. The basis of the show is that MTV follows a group of 20-something dudes around the country as they attempt to tackle 100 items on their “things to do before you die” list. Every time they knock something off their list, they help someone else achieve something that’s on theirs. Interesting concept.
Unlike any other MTV show, it got me thinking about my life and the things I want to do while I’m still healthy and capable. So, I started a list of my own. I’m currently at 41 items but my goal is 100. They range from things that are relatively simple (play blackjack in Vegas) to much more difficult (write a feature article for a magazine), but they’re all things I’ve never done before and hope to do at least once in my lifetime. Ultimately I hope that typing out a list will help me stick to and accomplish everything that’s on it.
A small part of me wishes I had done this earlier — it would have left me more time. But a larger part thinks that now is the perfect time. I’m at a stage in my life where I fully understand what I really want to do while I still have the time to do it.
I never thought making a list would be easy, but what’s even more surprising is how emotional of a process it is. When you really step back and think about it, this is all there is. We only have one life. And in that life we have a million opportunities to do a million different things. So why shouldn’t those things be great/exciting/experiential/emotional/life changing things?
They should be. And I’m making a list of 100 such things. And they’re going to be great.
You only have one chance. Might as well make the most of it.
February 1, 2010
As a writer, dealing with words is what I do. However, that doesn’t mean that I like all words. In fact, I have a short list of words that I never, ever use. Please forgive me as I use a few of these words in order to tell my story.
Moist. Slice. Panties.
Ew! I hate these words. I’d list more but I just don’t think I can handle it.
The other day, I brought up this very issue on Facebook, stating “I’m campaigning to have the word ‘moist’ removed from the English language.”
Within MINUTES, I was flooded with comments — 32 to be exact.Who knew a simple Facebook status update could cause such a frenzy? Needless to say, I’m not alone in my hatred. Here are a few of the standouts (names have been blurred to protect the innocent):
Charming, isn’t it? I bet that’s the first time “throbbing” and “discharge” have ever been used in a Facebook status update. Or at least I hope it was the first.
January 26, 2010
I could have easily given this entry a witty title:
Tru Review
Too Good to be Tru
But the real truth (hehe) is that Tru is simply too awesome for witty titles. Its reputation speaks for itself.
I enjoyed four hours of culinary bliss at Tru last weekend to celebrate my upcoming birthday. Yes, apparently I’m an expensive date, but you only live once so what the hell.
You came here for a review, so let’s get started shall we?
Service:
Simply put, service at Tru is more like a ballet — perfectly executed and beautiful to watch. Upon walking in the door, the maître di wished me a happy birthday, as did almost every other member of the Tru staff who spoke with me that night. Throughout the meal, Dave and I each had our own server, which means our plates were served and cleared at exactly the same time. Each course was perfectly described by a person who knew more about food than I could ever dream of knowing. Dining at Tru will make you feel like royalty because that’s how they treat you.
Cuisine:
Have you ever finished a meal and your eyes were nearly rolled back into your head because it was so euphoric?
Enough said.
Dave and I each enjoyed the Chef’s Collection — 9 courses of pure heaven. The menu below includes those nine courses plus three amouse-bouche and the famous Tru mignardises and lollipops cart.
I usually dislike larger tasting menus because I always end up being let down by two or three of the courses, however this was not the case at Tru. I truly enjoyed (and finished) every single bite. Asking me to choose a single favorite would be an impossible task, however the standouts were the white sturgeon caviar, Maine lobster , la ratte potato gnocchi and miso-marinated sablefish. And while I could go on and describe each and every dish, I’ll let the photos speak for themselves. (And yes, in true foodie fashion, I brought a camera to a 4-star restaurant. Shot in no-flash stealth mode — grateful for f/2.0.)
It’s difficult to summarize a restaurant that has been so widely praised in the culinary world, but if I had to choose one word to summarize my experience at Tru it would be inspirational. Truly a life-changing culinary adventure that I’m so grateful to have experienced.
January 21, 2010
I view this blog as a personal journal and this entry is by far the most personal one I’ve ever written. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even be posting it. I know I’ll be judged. I’ll probably be frowned upon. I may even be called a hypocrite a few years from now. Who knows.
But here it goes.
I’m not sure I ever want to be a mom.
Do I think I’d be good at it? Sure. Do I think it’s for me? Not really.
Growing up I always thought that I’d have kids. It was just something you’re supposed to do — go to college, get married, have kids. However, as I grew up I realized that having kids was an option and not a necessity. This had never occurred to me before.
In fact, I remember when I made this realization. It was when I moved to Chicago. Up until that time, my 24 years had been entirely suburban. Families, kids, BBQs and playgrounds. Every adult I had ever known had kids. When I moved to Chicago, I started meeting older adults who, while they were married and certainly could have had kids, didn’t. This was an interesting concept for me. Why would a married couple not have kids? Turned out they just didn’t want to. Simple as that.
So what’s my reasoning? I’m not really sure. It’s not like I had a messed up childhood — quite the opposite. My parents were (and still are) awesome people who did a great job of raising my younger brother and I, so it’s not like I can “blame” my decision on them (although it would be easier). Sometimes I take a step back and look at the relationship I have with my parents and think, “hey, if you don’t have your own kids, you’ll never have this.” Admittedly that makes me sad. And ten years from now, when all my friend’s kids are growing up and I have nothing, and when all my coworkers have pictures of their kids on their desk and I have a picture of my cat, will I suddenly realize that I made a mistake only to discover that it’s too late? That part scares me. But honestly, I think deep down it comes back to the fact that I just can’t imagine myself being a mom. And it’s not like I don’t like kids — I do. I probably even like your kids. So when I start buying them things that you said they couldn’t have and taking them to the movies you said they couldn’t see, don’t be surprised. They can blame it on their “Aunt Bobbi.” That’s a role I feel much more comfortable with.
Many people will say that I’m too young to know whether or not I want to be a mom, and this might be true. But in my one-week-short of 29 years — as more and more of my friends are getting the itch and I have yet to feel the slightest twinge — I have to wonder…what the f*ck is wrong with me? Am I completely missing the mom gene? Is my heart smaller than everyone else’s? This has been harder to deal with than I expected. And don’t get me wrong — I’m happy for my friends and their growing families. Sometimes I even wonder if all this friendly baby making will sway my decision.
But so far?
Nothing.
January 11, 2010
During a time when people are eating out less and staying in more, I find that a dinner party is the perfect solution for the recessionary winter blues. In fact, two of my coworkers and I are on a rotating dinner party hosting schedule, and even Dave and a few of his guy friends have gotten one going. Everyone brings something, and it’s almost as fun as going out — maybe even more so.
One of the best dinner parties I went to recently was hosted by our college friends Joe and Jenn, this time featuring fondue. We brought appetizers, another couple brought the alcohol and Joe and Jenn provided the fondue spread. Oddly enough, I’d never been to a fondue party and had only had fondue once during a Valentine’s Day experience at The Melting Pot several years ago. Host Jenn even made fun of herself for being so “70s,” but in reality, a fondue dinner party makes so much sense because it a.) requires no cooking, b.) encourages interaction and c.) let’s everyone pick-and-choose what the want to eat. Everyone really seemed to enjoy themselves, minus the fact that we all smelled like cooking oil afterwards. Speaking of, I wonder if they’ve been able to get that smell out of their curtains yet…
