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I had no idea that I was such a work addict. I’m going through major withdrawal (pacing, the jitters, sleeplessness, etc.). I always thought I would be the best professional hanger-outter ever. Instead, I am climbing the walls. I have taken up work-out classes (I am enjoying that very much) and of course job hunting (I love interviews and yes, I’ve had plenty in the last week), yet I’m just so bored! Today I worked out, got a mani and pedi, picked up the dry cleaning, went to Starbucks, read the NY Times, filled prescriptions, job searched, talked to Laurel (happy, happy birthday!), ate lunch, job hunted, showered, etc., but I was still dissatisfied. I think I need a purpose. Who doesn’t? Without work, what is it? I guess we all continue to get to know ourselves all the time; I feel like I am learning more about myself daily. I always have. You will never know of anyone who talks to herself more than I do. Is that surprising? Perhaps I should be spending my time working on my Idol audition for next year. Jason finally agreed that I would make it to Hollywood. Fine, he didn’t. But he did promise to accompany me for hours while awaiting the audition. That’s all that I can ask for.

I go to Cleveland tomorrow for nearly a week. I was supposed to go for the weekend all along, but when I found myself on the chopping block, I extended the trip to hang with the fam, friends and Adam. I have plenty of wedding stuff to do, so I’m excited. Going home is amazing to me. It takes me to a place where everything is warm. Sometimes the warmth, however, is interrupted by the most bittersweet memories that my heart has ever endured. The memories are alive regardless of the city, but magnified in the privacy of my childhood “upstairs.” Especially in the “pink room.” I am taken back to the past, a place that in many ways, I wish I could stay frozen in forever. My life has never been perfect and it wasn’t back then, but little did I know that the one aspect of my life that I counted on the most, would be the one part that has come to disappoint me the greatest. My disappointment is often reflected outward as anger. And I have every right to be angry. But when I’m not angry, the memories that I have attempted to freeze in my mind, melt like my heart into a bitter reality. I switch up my emotions - angry, numb, and accepting of it all. Back when all was well, I took everything for granted. I no longer do that. Ever. I thought I would be in that place forever. And then, just like that, it was swiftly stolen, leaving me a hole in my heart. With so much love in my life, you’d think my heart would quickly repair the damage. And I do ignore it mostly, but with a hole in your soul, sometimes you have no choice but to feel empty.

Or angry.

Or sad.

Or bitter.

Or artificially accepting.

The closest I can get to those days are in my dreams. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I think about the place and people I wish to dream about and cross my toes that my self-conscious will take me there in my sleep. Some nights I go back to my trip to Disney World with Jason. Some nights I skip ahead to our wedding in September. And some nights I fall asleep remembering the smallest details of the bond between two sisters. 

My whole life people have promised me that “time heals all wounds.” I always believed them, as it had been true all along. I don’t believe them anymore. The saying should be, “time often heals wounds.” One thing that I know for sure is that time moves quickly. The older we get, the faster the years seem to move behind us. Life is only getting better for me, so despite the unfortunate circumstances that have burned a hole in my heart, I continue to live the best way I know how. With no regrets.

For day days, my skin crawled. I couldn’t sleep. Jason exerted such sweet efforts attempting to relax me, but it wouldn’t work. I played Scramble, I watched television, I daydreamed…but nothing worked. Until today. I slept the day away. Jason and I, like two bumps on a log, fell asleep on the couch and just recently awoke. We’re heading into our second night with Jamie and Greg. Last night we celebrated Deborah (Greg’s sister) birthday. We had a great time. Tonight we’re heading to Sabatino’s. I feel like they’re in town visiting because we’re seeing them again tonight. I love it. I also love Jamie. So much. She is probably my funniest friend. Let me think…perhaps. Except when she puts thoughts in my fiancee’s head about my lifestyle from college (she exaggerates, thought it doesn’t even bother Jason to believe that her insane remarks are true) or when she challenges me in ways that I prefer not to be (it is always to benefit me). I may love Greg just as much. Well, obviously that’s not possible, but I think he is amazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzing. He is going to make Jamie one nice hilf. I think tonight I’ll tell stories about HER past.

 Anyway, just thought I’d drop a note. Hope your weekends are going well. Oh! I was invited to Florida with my friend Donna who is retired (in some ways, we both are these days). I wanted to make it work, but I would have had to reschedule my Cleveland trip and I have a lot of wedding deadlines to meet. Ugh. Warm weather sounds like a dream. Oh well, I know I’ll be there with her eventually.

I sat at my desk on Inauguration Day. I waited patiently for my Outlook Calendar to alert me to my 8:30 meeting. It would be the boss’s boss and myself. My co-worker had the same meeting just fifteen minutes before me. As he walked away from our area, we could hear the President Elect’s voice over the radio station in the background. As Obama talked about hope, my co-worker found as much of it as he could and marched into the private fifteen minute meeting that the press had declared as the day our employer would lay off 10% of the company. Just moments later, like a scene in The Bachelor, someone from HR came to my friend’s desk and collected his belongings…he had been kicked off of the show. He was eliminated. He was laid off. And so was I just ten minutes later.

Some speculate that the company wanted to do it on this special day because the news would amount to a small blurb instead of a huge article in the NY Times. And it did. Instead, however, I chose to think that the top dogs wanted us to hear President Obama’s speech. His speech which was filled with hope, inspiration, realism and power.

Below is my favorite photograph from that day. It is what I will remember. Not that I lost my job, but that he gained his. I’m not angry, I am hopeful. I am not depressed, I am motivated. I am not sad, I am thankful. I do not feel ashamed, I feel proud. Call me naive, that’s fine, but it feels better than its alternatives.

I love this photograph because it represents the future of our country: CHANGE. The President walking ahead of all the white men behind him. That’s new in Washington. I love the intelligence that jumps off the page and into my brain. That’s new to Washington. I love the crowds of people behind him both literally and figuratively. That’s new to Washington. I love that the country feels inspired, feels change on the horizon and embraces the President. All of this, new to Washington.

Critics question how much change is really possible. But change is already happening. If the President delivers half of his promises, I will still believe. But I ask the critics what they have if they don’t have hope? As I see it, all they have is acceptance of the status quo and that’s just not good enough. To accept things as they are is to embrace a country in which hard work does not equate to a rich life and a world where peace is just a naive concept instead of a work in progress. If we can’t all band together now, when will we? The president says that we chose hope over fear. And today, I’m on board. Hope feels a lot better. Today we smile because we believe in our leader, not because we’re laughing at him.

And so yes, today, I chose to pick myself up, dust myself off and begin again.

You know those tiny little packets that come in new purchases? You know, they say, “DO NOT THROW AWAY.” They always scare me, so instead of throwing them away, I simply put them somewhere. Am I the only one keeping them? If we do follow instructions, we should have apartment complexes full of those packets.

Jason and I were watching Planet Earth yesterday. “This turtle hasn’t eaten in two months,” the narrator said in her charming accent that I wish I had. How does she know? Have they been following the turtle for all of that time? If so, didn’t she feel guilty eating in front of the slow hare?

I’m so sick of sports. Just when baseball ends, football begins, etc etc etc. I said this to my father today. He said it could’ve been worse, it could’ve just been wrestling. I thought that was funny.

My fingers are chapped. My forehead has an excruciating headache. My heart breaks for the homeless that will most certainly die from the below zero temperatures tonight. It is brutal, I tell you. There is nothing funny about the weather here in Chicago today. It is, in one word, scary.

I treated myself to a cab ride home from a meeting tonight. Jason has the car with work people at the Bulls game. They are playing Cleveland (rocks). I feel so happy to be home under big sweats and a hoodie. I made soup, watched 90210 from the tivo and am now chilling on the phone with Katie. She’s on the other end playing me in Scramble, an application on FB. I’m patiently awaiting my turn. And here it is…brb…

And an hour later (at least)…

I am missing my entire night to watch whatever I want to play this game with Katie. Truth be known, I don’t even really like television. I would much rather sit on the phone playing online games in silence with my friend. Wouldn’t you?

I’m boring tonight, okay? Sue me. I inherited an addictive personality and Scramble, tonight, is my drug of choice. It’s a heck of a lot better than a list of alternatives that I can think of. Tomorrow is Friday and I am so happy. My plan this weekend is to do very little at all. On Sunday I will be dodging a day of football and going to the movies with Ashley instead. Other than that, I have Saturday night reservations at a new local Italian restaurant called, Angelina’s. Not new to Wrigleyville, new to our ten restaurant rotation. We continually hear great things, so it’s time to give it a go. They even have spaghetti squash on the menu! Oh, and that reminds me…hungrygirl.com just came out with a fiber dough pizza. I’ll be making that on Sunday night in substitution of the spaghetti squash that I typically make on Sunday nights. OH and I think Jason and I have determined our honeymoon resort and details. I hope we did at least. I think it looks great.

Do you prefer Simon and Garfunkel, Paul Simon or Art Garfunkel?

Isn’t it weird when you realize that your parents are people, too? I mean, did you ever have that moment when you so clearly understood that your mom and dad went through the same garbage that you do, live the same milestones and ponder the same questions. I grew up on Maidstone Lane. 24869 Maidstone Lane. Just typing that brings a smile to my face. 292-7131. Then we got a second line! 292-7188. I would tie it up for hours on end, chatting away the nights or discovering the Beachwood Chat room on America Online. Anyway, I recall when I found a pack of stale ciggerettes under the microwave in the kitchen (we were the only home ever to have carpeted floors in the kitchen - how retro of us). It was then that I first realized  that my mom is just a woman of the world. It was years later that I first realized that my father was too.

Not a woman, but a man. You know what I mean.

It’s so easy to blame our parents for what they should have done, what they could have done, etc. But, let’s see how we do as parents. I was the baby, so who knows if my reality was shared by my brother. If perception is reality as they say, then from what I recall, my childhood was great.

The rough patches and the fights that may have led to their separation have been released from my memory. Those memories have been replaced by those created in the past couple of years - times when my parents have reunited as one parental unit. Trading in their resentments for the sake of their children. I joke that there is sexual tension between them, but in actuality, it’s simply peace. My mom laughs all the time around my father, in a way that she seldom does in his absense. My father knows how to make her smile and does not miss the chance to do so. It’s a lot more fun to laugh than to cry.

This is not coming from nowhere, of course (it never is), but instead it the reflection of how much I miss them both so much. Sigh. I miss a lot of things actually. I could make a whole list for you right now. But I won’t. Instead, I’ll filter it and simply say that time goes by too quickly and that cliches are so true when you have Jasons and Sherrys and Bruces and Michaels in your life.

And Adams and Rockys, too!

I haven’t written in days because our computer was in the hands of the Geek Squad. Jason thought he should take it to Best Buy for a check up (it has been slow lately) and so I haven’t been able to write. To my delightful surprise, several of you have missed me.

We decided to take it in this past Saturday. The snow was falling pretty quickly, so I decided to stay on the phone in the car while Jason took the PC inside. After ten minutes I became restless so I walked inside to find Jason. As I marched in, getting the snow off my fake Uggs (from Target for 20 bucks; a purchase made on an equally wintery day in 2007 that has turned out to the best 20 dollars I’ve ever spent), Jason was walking out. I turned around and ventured back into the white day once again.

Opps, I locked the keys in the car.

Before I knew it, an employee from Best Buy was successfully breaking into our car (30 minutes later). Thank god. Jason was so not happy and I was SO not enjoying the unnecessary guilt.

Then we went to The Bagel for brunch. We went there because they have a parking lot, despite their busy Lakeview location. Around noon Jason’s phone rang. It was Opera calling to confirm our 8 PM dinner reservations for that night (with Jamie and Greg). He hung up on them, explaining that they had the wrong number.

Opps, I told Opera a fake name just because it seemed fun at the time.

Jason made me call them back. And so I did. Shortly thereafter we went back out into the blizzard. We drove sevenish blocks and 15 minutes later we returned home.

Opps. Jason’s phone was nowhere to be found. We had to turn around and go back to the Bagel. Christ. Twenty minutes later, I found myself explaining the day to my mother while waiting in the car. “Mom, he is seriously going to hate me or kill me or both.” I could see Jason from a distance, getting smaller as he walked further to the back of the restaurant. He was searching through the snow for the phone which carried “his life” on it.

No phone. He continued looking. At this point my father rings. He is HYSTERICAL about Darryl (the baby). My father stepped on him by mistake and blood was gushing from his ears. Thank god - he is OK. He is walking again now and even playing with Darryl. Darryl is playing with Darryl. This is not first person Seinfeld talk, nor does the dog masturbate…No, no… my father has two animals with the same name. What? And your family is normal?

The phone was found (after returning home believing that it was not). It was stuffed in between Jason’s Northface’s layers. No clue why it showed zero missed calls though. Mysterious. Anyway, after all of that, the computer is still slow and we’ll definitely need a new one. We picked it up after work this evening. Before Jason went in he said, “if you want to leave the car, TAKE THE KEY WITH YOU.”

G’night. Wow, I’m so glad that I’ve relived that wonderful day here in sunny Chicago, IL.

PS - This morning I asked my father how Darryl is. He said, “ya know, Rooney, you should really start asking about my other dog, too.”

PPS - I want to be the next American Idol. But I never could be; I don’t have the support of my family. I would not have any entourage to jump and scream after my audition. Sad. At every commercial I practice, yet still…no support.

My entire life my father told me that Jewish people do not have cats. I believed him, I really did. There’s a whole list of falsehoods that Jewish people supposedly do not do, according to my father. And so, I grew up with Rocky…a very charming and kind dog who used to share his cage with me when I was small enough to fit in it.

Fast forward about 20 years and my father calls me to tell me that he is getting a cat. Of course Jewish people don’t raise cats, so he continually refers to the animal as a dog nonetheless. He named the cat Darryl. Odd name, but OK, so is my dad. Last week he got Darryl a brother. He named this “dog” Darryl as well. Darryl and Darryl. He says the vet is having problems with medical records and keeping the names straight. My father says that the vet cannot dictate his family tree.

He is getting a third cat soon. He will be named Larry.

I dreamed about my father’s funeral last night. It was surreal. Despite Jason’s efforts to keep this from my father, I told him by 9AM this morning. His instant response was, “oh yeah? who spoke???”

Anyway, I just got home from an extremely long day at work. I want nothing more than to lay on my fat couch and watch something girly since Jason is at a “no-host” tonight and won’t be home until later on. Instead, I have committed myself to working out. UGH. So annoying. It is literally one of the last things that I want to do tonight.

My day was OK. Pretty good, I suppose. I ate oatmeal from Cosi in the morning. There’s one in my building. Have you ever tried it? Two days ago they were out so they told me to come back to get “hooked up” the following day. So when I went today I expected the oatmeal to be free. Oh no, I was hooked up with two extra strawberries instead. Oh well. Still yummy.

I just got off the phone after an hour with Michelle. It’s amazing to think how long we’ve been friends. (Well, we took a couple years off because I was bitter that Kevin Ellis liked her and not me.) I remember when I would pack up her parents’ Bronco and head to Chautauqua for a week after I returned from summer camp. We did things on those trips that I may never share with anyone. One thing which I have no choice but to highlight is a true marketing failure. I mean this one goes down on the books. In Chautauqua, they had carbonated Snapple. IT WAS INCREDIBLE. Never again, nowhere in the country or world, have I been able to locate this beverage. Why would they discontinue this? It was phenomenal. How could it not take off? Anyway, it was so cool to be on our own there. We would go into town and get things. Long story, but we got them. Michelle was the baby in her family, by several years, which is why perhaps her parents let her do lots of cool things. We also used to ride our bikes seriously long distances when we were merely 11 in fifth grade. Rachel Fetterman, too. What else? Well, senior year of high school we did some things in her bathroom. Some things that smelled and good. Laurel used to call the toilet. When Michelle’s parents sold that home, we left the new owners a message under the sink…I wonder if they received it. “PS - Don’t forget to blow out the window.”

Anyway, very akward transition, but below is the video, per my promise. Enjoy. 

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 Well, this is it. The last time I’ll be writing during this fantastic hiatus from work, from responsibilities and from waking up at 7 AM. With a sigh of disappointment, I write you during vacation’s last hours. Jason is out picking up dinner from himself while I anxiously await my spaghetti squash in the oven. Yum. It’s a typical Sunday evening here in the Bogart home; the Sunday political shows, eggs and the paper, television, sports, and lounging. If it weren’t for Mondays creeping closer with each second, this may perhaps be my favorite day of the week. Saturdays are OK, of course, but until we hired someone to clean our home, they were spent cleaning all day long. Did I even mention that my Jason is an adorable clean freak? Yin and yang, I tell you.

The weekend flew by quickly. Friday Jason, Katie and I grabbed brunch at PJ Clark’s in Lincoln Park. We stopped by Best Buy afterwards and bought season one of Weeds. A manicure and Starbucks run later, Katie and I planted ourselves on her couch and watched the entire season. Jason picked me up at midnight, twelve hours later. Katie just called now to confess that she watched the entire second season without me. No problem, I told her, I’ve seen it before. Katie is recovering from surgery on her feet, so anything to keep her occupied works for me. 

Yesterday I brunched with Ashley and spent the remainder of the day and night in the burbs. We were home by 12 and asleep by 3.

I hear Jason walking in now. He literally walked to Broadway which is obviously so close, bought dinner and traveled up 17 flights of stairs in the time in took Billy Joel to sing The Entertainer and Only the Good Die Young.

Last night while we were going to sleep, I asked Jason to tell me something I don’t know about himself. He never had a curfew in high school, he reported. That was a good one, right? I didn’t either. I wonder if my brother or sister did. As the baby, it’s always interesting to learn what my parents wasted their energy doing the first time around. Anyway, this conversation turned into a web of thoughts that made me realize that I may the most overprotective parent of all time. I can’t imagine being OK with no curfew…how did Sherry do it? I also realized that I have lied to people since the day I started talking. Last night I realized what, “you mean the world to me” actually means when I told Jason. Anyone else I’ve ever said that to, was lied to.

Later~