Happy V-day!

When I last posted on this blog, I was just returning to school after extreme illness. I managed to finish the weekend alright. Friday I went out with my girlfriends, as usual, at Blue Angel. Saturday during the day I spent time with Tom, although I went home to bed early and he went to a heavy metal show to hear the band Mastadon. Sunday I did some errand-running and grading in preparation for parent teacher conferences this week. Monday I did some marathon laundering (expensive and time-consuming!) at the laundromat. Tuesday was a half-day of teaching with a half-day of parent-teacher conferencing. Then I went to the doctor and he put me on new meds for a lingering infection. I've had so many ear, sinus, respiratory infections, etc., this year. It's ridiculous!

Wednesday, though, was really nice. It was Valentine's day, and despite the major snow storm that started the week, I had a great time. I raced out the door when work was over, then went straight home where I picked out an outfit that would be romantic-yet-warm. I smacked on some makeup, fussed with my hair a tiny bit, then grabbed the card I made for Tom and rushed to meet him in the Village.

We met at La Paella for Spanish food. The restaurant is beautiful, with candlelit tables and thousands of dried roses hanging in bunches from the ceiling. Our paella was scrumptious. We exchanged presents. Tom regularly drinks four cups of coffee-type-beverages a day, so I got him a little espresso machine so he can have coffee when we're hanging out at my apartment. He got me a box of Godiva chocolates. His students teased him that it was a cliche gift. "Well," I replied, "I don't think they understand how much I love chocolate." Then we went to a little cafe called Sistine. It's walls were stained-glass windows, lit from behind. There Tom had an esspresso and I had some apple cider.

Today was a long day of teaching followed by parent teacher conferences. Now I'm home. I'm going to call my mom and wish her a belated Happy Valentine's Day, and then I'm going to sleep!

So sick!

I was so sick Sunday that I finally followed my doctor's advice and went to the hospital. They gave me an IV and everything. Ew. I HATE NEEDLES! My nurse was this tiny, sweet Asian woman:

"Don't worry. I have angel hands. Angel hands." I covered my face with my left arm while she worked on the right arm. "I'm not even doing anything yet. For the IV, they don't even leave in the needle anymore. They leave in a plastic straw." (PLASTIC STRAW? PLASTIC STRAW is not more comforting than NEEDLE!) "Now it's going to be cold. It's an alcohol swab. Now I'm going to use the needle. Hold very still. Okay, all done." I pulled my left arm away from my eyes, and she saw the tears that had been falling the whole time. "Ooh, I make you cry? I don' like to make people cry!" I ended up comforting her...which may have been a brilliant strategy on her part. Although I then saw some of my blood in the "straw" and I almost lost it.

After they diagnosed me, pumped me full of fluids and gave me a prescription and a note to get me out of work Monday, I booked it over to Tom's for his Super Bowl party. It was fun watching the game with him and his friends, but I was so tired I went to bed halfway through the game.

The next day, he stayed home from work to help take care of me. We cuddled on the couch, watched a movie, napped and took a bath. His tub comforably fits both of us, which is nice. Then he drove me to my place, where we spent last night. Today I had to go back to work.

That was pretty terrible. The kids went nuts when I was gone. They ripped a poster off my wall, scribbled on another, threw books on the floor, graffitied a desk, stole my chalkboard eraser and ripped the classroom phone off the wall. You know, they were naughty for me today (including the most ironic moment EVER when I had to stop a boy from using a book about Martin Luther King as a weapon), but for that poor substitute teacher yesterday? That must have been hellish. I only have to get through five months (from now to the end of June) and there will be two week-long vacations (one in February, one in April). I can make it. I can!

Still sick...ugh!

I was supposed to spend this weekend with my boyfriend, and instead I spent it moaning in bed, and not in a good way. I fell asleep Friday night at 9 p.m. and woke up at 1 a.m. feeling all dizzy and nauseated. I thought it was because I'd taken vitamins on an empty stomach, so I ate some cookies and went back to bed.

When I woke up at 6:30 in the morning, I felt weak and was still nauseated. I made some Cream of Wheat in the dark (Rick was sleeping. He sleeps in the living room, and the apartment has a kitchenette that's in that same room). It didn't help. I found I couldn't stand up straight. Every time I tried, my stomach muscles would tighten up and I would double over. At lunchtime, I made some chicken soup. It kind of made me want to puke, but I knew I needed nutrients.

Then I called my doctor to make sure it wasn't a reaction to the amoxicillin. He said it probably wasn't, but I should go to the hospital to get tests to make sure my abdominal problem wasn't something serious (it was too late for me to make it to his office before it closed, not to mention the can't-straighten-up problem). Some of my symptoms were consistent with hepititus, too. After he hung up, I was so tired I fell back asleep. I went online and it looked like hepatitis wasn't a real emergency, so I went to sleep again. I couldn't imagine walking to a hospital, and it wasn't serious enough for an ambulance. Besides, my online research showed that a lot of my symptoms were also consistent with the plain old flu.

By eight p.m. I was out for the night. I slept the whole night through. My fever has gone down some, and my stomach isn't perfect, but it's better. I have got a new icky symptom, though. It's like one sickness after another this year: infection, infection, infection. I'm sick of being sick. Yesterday, I was too tired to read! I know. I didn't think it was possible, either.

Sent!

The grad school applications have all been sent, hooray! I applied to Hunter College, Brooklyn College and Sarah Lawrence College (Manhattan, Brooklyn and Bronxville, NY), Old Dominion University (Norfolk, VA) and University of Notre Dame (South Bend, IN). I'm so excited and scared. If it doesn't work out, I'll be very disappointed, but at least I tried. I always chickened out or just ran out of time in the past. Now it's in the admissions officers' hands.

To celebrate, Tom took me to a very fancy restaurant, TriBeCa Grill. The food was delicious, and because of a Restaurant Week special it didn't break the bank. On a normal day, we could never have afforded it. I was just so happy and proud for getting the applications done, and it was nice to have someone recognize how hard I worked.

I really want an MFA. If I don't get accepted anyplace that works for me, I'll figure out a plan B to leave my job (because I sure can't stay). The thing is, anything else be be just that: the fall-back. I don't want to live a fall-back life. Well, wish me luck.

Cold

I had hoped to finish my grad school applications yesterday. Did that happen? No. Was is procrastination, my old nemesis? No, it was illness, my secondary nemesis. What I had thought was allergies turned out to be a Mack Truck of a cold that knocked me flat. As I don't have time for a drawn out illness and recovery, I put on a full-on assault.

I stayed in bed most of the day. I drank more water than I thought possible, ate two oranges and drank two glasses of orange juice, ate carbs and took acidophilus so the citric acid wouldn't hurt my tummy, took vitamins, used Zicam, took some decongestants, gargled salt water, gargled hydrogen peroxide and used some ear drops. I blew my way through half a box of tissues and repeatedly applied antibiotic ointment to my Rudolfesque schnoz.

Today...I'm not perfect, but I feel so much better! My nose is only slightly pink. I'm using significantly fewer tissues-per-hour. I'm hocking up fewer loogies. I'm continuing my health regimine, but I now have the energy to get some work done, too. Yay!

In happier news, I'm going to visit my grandparents in Arizona for midwinter break. Spending five February days in Arizona sounds heavenly. More importantly, it will give me some quality time with my grandparents and Aunt Sandy. Yay! This will also be a chance to interview my Staker grandparents (I've already interviewed the Kileys and the Gilbaughs.)

So today's to-do list: Cure cold. Finish grad school apps. Finish grading students. Plan lessons. Dishes. Prepare lunch for tomorrow. Piece of cake, right? Hee.

Poetry Portfolio

To facilitate my MFA application process, I've created a blog for my poetry (http://ejkpoetry.blogspot.com/). It's a work in progress. Right now I've got one entry per poem for the 17 pieces currently in my portfolio. Then I've listed a bunch of alternates all in one entry.

Here's how it works: if you love me, tell me honestly which of the poems in the portfolios should go, which ones should stay, and which alternates should be promoted to the portfolio. Thanks, and happy reading!

The good, the bad and the artsy.

I've been complaining about my job lately. My bosses still seem to be out to get me sometimes. The forced me to teach nothing but test prep exercise books for more than three months, which was miserable. The kids were bored to death and acted out. This made me more miserable.

As we got closer to the big statewide test (that test which determines whether the child will go to the next grade, whether our school will receive more funds or be "restructured," and whether my boss will rip me a new one for not raising scores enough), I thought, "Surely the kids will buckle down and get serious." On the contrary. As they got closer to the test, perhaps in a fit of nerves, they shut me out more. Just when I was convinced they all hated me, though, Abena gave me this drawing. It's even better in real life (my scanner didn't pick up all the subtle shading). Abena's only 12. Isn't she talented? After class, I've been helping her a little with perspective in her drawings, and I think this was sort of a thank you gift.

The three-day weekend was great. Friday Jan. 12 night Tom and I went to dinner, then a movie. Casino Royale was probably the best Bond movie I've ever seen: sexy but rough around the edges. It lacked the comic-book silliness of some of the other Bond flicks. Saturday Tom and I watched Arrested Development and he made me spaghetti with homemade meat sauce. Then we went to hear Laura's boyfriend Ryan's band, Who By Fire, play at Lit. That was fun. We hung out Sunday and Monday, too, though I don't remember what we did, exactly. I know there was a lot of fooling around involved.

One morning we brunched at Gravy, a restaurant which had a jazz combo with a great guitarist and an amazing upright bass player. I love a good bassline to accompany my biscuits and gravy. At one point, Tom and I listed to an interesting program on National Public Radio where one of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s lawyers/speechwriters reminisced about Dr. King and how the reverend got him to join the cause. It was a funny story, and didn't make Dr King seem perfect. I liked how human it made him seem -- human, but influential and focused on what needed to be done for the civil rights movement.

Tuesday and Wednesday were the big test all morning and Finding Forrester in the afternoon. I knew the kids would be too stressed for "real" lessons those days, so I had them make KWL charts (What did you Know about the characters, setting and plot at the beginning of the movie? What did you Want to know? At the end of the movie, what did you Learn?) and showed them an inspiring movie about a cool kid from The Bronx who is smarter than he likes to let on. He loves to write and meets someone who helps him become a better writer and share his writing with others. We're getting back the the real writing in my class, so I hope this will inspire them. Friday a Ramp-up coordinator came. I'm supposed to start teaching Ramp-up, but my school's not providing all the necessary supplies. I'm supposed to buy the stuff, and if I don't, they suggest I don't care enough about my students. Yep, the fact that I'm trying to pay off all my bills and live within my means shows I don't care about the kids I work so hard to teach 180 days a year.

Then, finally, it was the weekend again. Laura and Carolina and I met at La'Annam for Vietnamese, including the world's yummiest scallion pancakes with peanut dipping sauce. We then went to Solas for a drink. Saturday I cleaned my room and Val helped me polish my poetry portfolio. That evening I met up with Tom for Brazilian food at Cocotero, followed by brilliant long-form improv by a group called Mother at the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater. They used music people brought with them (on cds and iPods) to inspire the scenes. Today I spent mostly on chores and working on grad school stuff again...some more. I've got to make it happen. Okay, bed time. God bless you all.

Oprah's Controversial Comments

Okay, a while back I said I wanted to blog on the Oprah controversy, so here it is. Oprah worked her butt off to rise from poverty and sexual abuse to become a powerful woman at the top of her field. People obsessed about her weight and speculated about her personal life. Even so, she managed to keep it together and earn a BILLION dollars! ($1.5 billion, actually.) Once upon a time, she promised Nelson Mandela that she would help Africa. She recently did so, opening a $40 million boarding school for poor girls in South Africa.

In an interview with USA Today Weekend, Winfrey said, "I perhaps will get criticism about, 'Why didn't you do this for children in America?'" She replied: "Because we have a school system in America ... There's no 12-year-old girl in America that you're going to find crying because this is the last year for her education because nobody can afford to send her to school. You want to give the gift to the person who's going to love it the most."

Oprah also expressed her frustration with trying to help needy kids in the U.S.: "I became so frustrated with visiting inner-city schools that I just stopped going. The sense that you need to learn just isn't there," she said. "If you ask the kids what they want or need, they will say an iPod or some sneakers. In South Africa, they don't ask for money or toys. They ask for uniforms so they can go to school."

Oprah, to you I say, “AMEN!” I think before I taught in the South Bronx, I might have been one of Oprah’s harshest critics on this matter. I always wondered why America goes around meddling in other countries’ problems when we have so many that need solving here. But I’ve seen what Oprah is talking about. When I mentioned the quote above to my students, one replied, “Oh, they only saying they want books an uniforms, but once Oprah's gone, they going to sell them on eBay.” Most of my students refuse to believe there are people who are desperate to learn.

Most (not all, of course, but most) of my students consider school, studying, reading and intelligence uncool. I’m not saying rich white kids consider those things cool. The thing is, rich white kids grow up in text-rich environments, hearing academic grammar. They don’t have to work as hard to play catch-up. What’s more, rich white kids have connections and don’t have to overcome the stereotypes of admissions officers or human resource managers. They also don't have such a soaring high school drop-out rate.

Time and again I see it: students who care more about their iPods and sneakers than their educations and futures. Many of them are in the free lunch program, yet manage to wear designer jeans and have the newest style of Jordanson their feet every month. (Why work hard to overcome your poverty if your poverty is...cushy? Sure the neighborhood is dangerous, but your styles are fresh!)

When money comes into the house it is spent. Maybe you won’t have enough money left to pay the bills. The phone will get shut off, but who cares? If the phone is shut off, those annoying teachers can’t call to tell you about the problems your child is having at school. But at least everyone in the neighborhood can tell, just by looking at your child, that you provide for him or her better than your parents ever provided for you. Let the teachers provide every last drop of their education. That’s what they’re paid for. As a parent, making them read or checking their homework is not in the job description.

Like Oprah, I’ve been asked for sneakers and iPods. The thing that keeps me sane, though, is I also have students who’ve begged me for books: To Kill a Mockingbird, Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events, The Diary of Anne Frank and many more. Oprah’s never been around long enough to hear those requests, because for some reason those things are harder for the kids to ask for. That being said, Oprah made that money, and it’s hers to spend however she likes. She’s said some harsh things about America’s youth and education, and many people don’t want to hear it, but you know the old saying: “The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

Nothing to report.

What's happened in the last week? Four days of work. Mexican food with the girls on Friday, followed by a date with Tom. Saturday I rested. Sunday I researched grad schools. Monday work was terrible, so Tom cheered me up with an impromptu date to Rack & Soul Chicken & Ribs. It was awesome. You know what made my day more tolerable today? Leftover ribs, potatoes and green beans for lunch. YUM!

Three days of work until the three day weekend. Hooray!

I plan to blog on the following topic soon: the Oprah faux pas.

Happy New Year!

I wrote wrote a whole entry and it got erased. Now I don't have time to re-write it, but I figured I'd at least get up some photos and captions.

Laura, Carolina and me at my New Year's Eve pre-party party.







Tom and I decked out and ready for his friends' formal New Year's Eve party in Brooklyn.












Counting down and watching the ball drop in Time Square via the Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve Special, which we followed with the traditional champagne toast and smooching.










We then went to the back yard where we were surprised by a silly string attack.












Then we celebrated with sparklers, although I declined because I don't think it's a good idea to play with fire when I'm drunk.











Tori: inappropriate, yet hilarious.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Holiday Update, Part Two

So I missed my flight, and I had no way to get to Iowa in time for church or family celebrations. I took a cab home ($30 more bucks down the drain.) I ran to the grocery store before it closed (I'd thrown out my perishable food. $20 more bucks down the drain.) I spent the rest of the night on the phone to United. They disconnected me six times and were no help to me on the seventh time. Friday, Dec. 22, I was practically in tears as I trudged off to work. (On the bright side, that's one personal/sick day I didn't have to use up.)

That night I accompanied Tom to Dom and Tori's Christmas party. I wasn't quite my normal, gregarious self. Usually, I get all fixed up for parties and am very outgoing. For this one, my skin was broken out from the stress and I didn't have time to do my hair and makeup or change from my work clothes. On top of that, I was depressed about missing my flight and it was raining. I made the best of it and, though I was a bit introverted, we all had fun.

The next day, Dec. 23, I accompanied Tom to a coworker's party. When my flight home fell through, Tom invited me to all these parties and to celebrate with his family. I told him, "I hope it's not bothering you, the way I'm tagging along to everything." He laughed and replied, "I was just thinking, 'I hope she doesn't feel like I'm dragging her to all these parties.' It's like our own Gift of the Magi situation." "Well, the misunderstanding part, not the crushing poverty part." "Exactly!" he exclaimed. At the party, Tom's coworker made a comment about me being Tom's fiancee, and we both nearly choked on our hors d’oeuvres. That's right, people, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Some boyfriends last. Some don't. I like this one a lot more than the last one, but that's no gaurantee. I'm going to make any long-term romantic decisions carefully. I'm reminded of a scene in Brigadoon: One character sings, "But when lassies sit and have no men, oh, how long becomes the night." Fiona replies, "But I fear the night is longer when the lad's not right." My sentiments exactly.

On the 24th, we celebrated with Tom's family. These people know how to eat. His mom made enough cookies to feed and army (pecan, lemon, chocolate chip, sugar, oatmeal raisin and ricotta). The meal itself was linguini with calamari tentacles and rings and spungili (I think I've butchered the spelling. Anyway, it's conch.), shrimp cocktail, clams and mussels on the half-shell, baked clams and stuffed artichokes. Then for supper we had lobsters and king crab. The crabs' legs were bigger around than a baby's arm. Anyone who has seen me eat seafood knows I can back away crabs' legs, but I could only eat one of those gigantic things! That night Tom's brothers, Tom and I all camped out in the living room. The next morning breakfast was toast and Christmas Cookies. Then we open presents and Tom rushed me to JFK airport...where I sat for the next six hours.

Again I quote from my letter to United: "The flight that [United Ticket Agents got] me on was delayed significantly, so I didn't arrive home until 10:30 p.m. Christmas Day. In fact, your company booked me on Delta flight 5361 to Des Moines. When it landed for its layover in Cincinnati, I was told the second leg of my flight had already left, and I wouldn't be able to get home until 3 p.m. Dec. 26! It was only when I pressed them that they managed to get me on a United flight from Cincinnati to Chicago and an American Airlines flight from Chicago to Des Moines. My luggage didn't arrive until December 27.

"It was the most stressful traveling experience of my life. Because of your company's management of the situation, I missed every church and family celebration. This was my only opportunity to see some of my relatives this year."

What I didn't include were the details: being driven across a tarmac to make a flight just before the door closed, the other passengers giving me dirty looks (although those looks turned to sympathy due to my obvious asthma attack), crying in various airports (including while I was getting a security pat-down in Cincinnati), and making frantic phone calls on my dying cell phone ("No, Dad, I'm not arriving 10:30 a.m. tomorrow! I'm arriving 10:30 p.m. tonight!")

Mom and Dad were both sick when I got home, so we Dad gave me a quick tour of the improvements on the house and we all went to bed. The next day we rested and tried to recover from the previous day. Wednesday my bag arrived, so I wrapped presents and did laundry. Then I helped my parents empty a semi-trailer full of stuff salvaged from the tornado (the guy who loaned it to us needed it back). That night, we opened presents around the tree.

Thursday I drove to see J.B., Erika and the girls. It was a lot of fun. Courtney has great hand-eye coordination (she rules at peekaboo. J.B. plays a version where she pulls down a blanket to find him.) She's also at a very cuddley stage.

Brooke is smart as a button. She noticed that my hair is longer and lighter that in some pictures we had taken when she was a baby. She answers questions really well, with specific details. (When asked what animals live on Grandma and Grandpa's farm, she responded, "Sheep and...two dogs! Mac and Scooter.") She's also getting to the point where she tells stories, unsolicited. She has a doll named Max ("He's a little girl.") and another named Max's Little Sister. Hee. Brooke has a bag with a butterfly on it. I asked her what it was. She thought hard and exclaimed, "Its...a...BUG!" "Yes," replied, "It's a bug. It's also a butterfly." "A butterfly?" "Yep." The next day I asked her about the bag again. She thought hard and exclaimed, "It's...a...butterwing!"

For posterity, Brooke's favorite movies right now are Mary Poppins (she can sing all the songs, even when they use words like "precocious" and "atrocious.") and The Wizard of Oz. I told her that's a scary movie. She replied, "Erin, it's T.V. It's not real." Undoubtedly, she's repeating something her parents have told her several times, but it still cracked me up. When I put on my black trench coat to leave, she asked if I was a witch. I replied, "I do wear a lot of black, don't I?"

Friday afternoon I went to see Karen, Connor, Hannah, Helen and Unkie. We did a gift exchange. I got a lovely journal, some scrupmtious Choxie and a fairy tale Hannah created for me on the computer. I also got to read the play she wrote. The kids seemed to enjoy their presents (a doodle book for Connor with some cool codes and hints to improve his artistic techniques and a craft book for Hannah that also included some fun recipes). We used Connor's pogo stick. Hannah played a song for me on the piano. We all sat around and chatted.

That night, I joined up with my college suite-mates (the Heritage 11 Suities) for Chinese food and conversation. I had a great time, and I'm glad I got to see them. Kelly surprised me by arriving as Kelly-brown-hair. It's a running joke that she loves dying her hair brown, but it hates staying that way and quickly fades back to its natural blonde.

That basically brings us up to date. Mom and Dad went to a football party. I would have gone, but was given insufficient warning. ("Want to come to a party in half an hour even though you haven't even showered today?" Sorry. I can't get around that fast...at least not happily.)

If all goes well, I'll be back in New York by 1:30 p.m. New Year's Eve. Who knows what the night or the New Year will bring. Here's hoping your holidays were happy and that your New Year is a blessed one for you and your family.

Holiday Update, Part One.

There have been complaints (or at least hints) that I've been remiss in my blogging. 19 days! That's almost three times my normal time between posting. Okay, okay, people. What have I been doing all that time? Sometimes I was sick. Sometimes I was at work or checking papers or lesson planning. Sometimes I was doing housework or resting or sleeping. Sometimes I was working on Grad school applications (I won't make the ones with Jan. 3 deadlines, but I will make the ones with Feb. 3 deadlines). Sometimes I was Christmas shopping.

One night (was it the 15th?) Tom and I helped his friend Danno (Dan-O?) celebrate his birthday. He's quite the character and the place was like a hybrid between a bar and a Chuck E. Cheese. My favorite was playing Skeeball. Tom and I proved surprisingly good at this military game where you have to hold big fake guns and kill people. His friend Dom crooned, "Aw. The couple that kills together..." Um, I don't think that's how the saying is supposed to go. I'm not sure how I feel about violent video games. I definitely don't support children playing them. Generally I think adults should find better ways to spend their time, but for one night it was okay. We pooled all our tickets for Danno to buy prizes with. In the end he had more than 4800 points, which allowed him to buy several things. He didn't get the blender, as Becker suggested, or the basketball hoop I suggested, but he seemed happy with his remote control cars and other goodies.

Another night (the 16th?) Tom took me for Medditeranean food. I had the most delicious lamb kebabs. On the way there, we heard a lot of honking and saw police lights flashing in the distance. Suddenly, I saw something strange. A COW! A calf? I don't know. It wasn't a baby, but it wasn't full-grown, either. Anyway, this cow was running down the sidewalk, full-tilt, its hooves slipping and sliding a bit. It was obviously terrified.

"Tom, A COW!" I exclaimed.

"What? Oh, it is a cow," he replied, surprised as six cop cars with their lights blazing and sirens screaming came tearing around the corner.

"Should we stop?" I wondered, "I know how to catch a cow, and they obviously don't."

"No, Erin, you are not going to catch the cow," he said.

"Why not? I can do it!"

"Because they are the NYPD, and they might not understand who you are or what you're doing or that you know how to catch the cow. So no, we are not stopping." Okay, good point. There've been some problems lately with them shooting first and asking questions later. Anyway, it was a bizarre moment.

On the 17th, I went to my church's fake Christmas Eve candlelight service. You see, so many of the church members have families far away. This way, we could celebrate with our church family. Monday was the work holiday party. Tuesday Tom took me to an amazing bakery for cupcakes (the person who runs it helped create the famous Magnolia bakery). Wednesday my girlfriends and I had a gift exchange at Blue Angel, home of the cutest salt and pepper shakers. (See photo at left where we posed them with umbrellas from our drinks.)

Thursday, I was supposed to fly out. Well, for this part I'll just quote the complaint letter I sent United Airlines: "Before leaving for the airport Dec. 21, I checked online, and my flight was supposed to depart on time. I arrived at 5:45. My flight that day was delayed from 7 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. I wasn't allowed to use online check-in, supposedly because I wouldn't make my connecting flight. (I would have made my connecting flight, but if I missed it I could have found alternate transportation from Chicago to Des Moines.)

"Your agents at LaGuardia made anyone flying through Chicago stay in line for hours (pulling other travelers out of the line, but telling us to stay), which caused us to miss our flights. I assume people flying standby or the many people whose flights had been delayed or canceled took our seats. At 8:45, the agents told us to go home. I stayed to make new flight arrangements. The agents couldn't get me a flight to Des Moines (or any nearby airports like Minneapolis, Kansas City, St. Louis, etc.) until December 25. They informed me that the flights were oversold."

Rocking the Holidays at Rockerfeller Center

Kelly came to visit, YAY!

Knowing that she was coming on Friday, Tom and I decided to get together on Thursday. We met up at Rockerfeller Center and snapped a few photos. Then we went to see a cool Christmas window display. After that, Tom took me to see a piece of the Berlin Wall.

Then we went to lovely Mill Korean. I love that place. It serves lots of yummy food quickly for a reasonable price. It was also nice to go out with him on a weekday. It gave me something to look forward to when I was at work. Then he stayed over. Friday morning, it was so nice to have him there. Getting up was...less terrible.

Friday night Kelly got in late (delay and change of airport), and Tom was sweet enough to drive me to pick her up. We slept in the next day, then took a bus to LaGuardia to get her luggage.

We also went to see Morningside Park, St. John's Cathedral and the nearby Peace Fountain. I also took her down to the village where we explored the holiday market. We went to Frutti Di Mare for scrumptious Italian food. Then I bought an adorable hat. (Argh, splurge! Why must I spend, why?)

We met up with Laura and Riza later for drinks and dancing. Riza was sad (boyfriend trouble), so I drew smiley faces on her knees.

We went from place to place looking for a fun place to dance, but none were working out. An old fave, Opal, completely changed formats. (No more dancing. Why?) Then I had a the beginning of a brilliant idea, but not the mental capacity to finish it. "Laura, what's that place we go to and dance and it's like a basement and there're these benches?" "Ooh, yes, let's go there. What's it called?" Then Laura had to make about 10 phone calls before she reached someone who remembered the club's name and location.

Niagra! Oh, Niagra, how we love you and your stage and your raised dancing platform. We drank and danced on the floor and the stage.

During the go-go dancer's break, Riza asked me to take over her platform. I agreed, but only if she came with me. We had quite a captivated audience...well, the guys, at least. At about 3:45, we went for munchies at the diner across the street, 7A. By a little after 5, we were home and in bed.

Sunday we didn't make it out of bed until after noon. We had some cereal, then went to see the adorable Kristin Chenowith in a musical, The Apple Tree, which was delightful. Then we went shopping at H&M, followed by Chinese food.

Later we spent Kelly's last night in the city back at Rockerfeller Center so she could see the tree. It made me feel like a child, somehow. I think the tree is bigger this year than when I've seen it in the past, like a recently-living skyscraper. On the other hand, maybe it's the same size. Maybe seeing the tree is like that every year: it always seems new -- bigger and brighter.

I am a Master.

Guess what I have in my hand? (Or did right before I put it down to type this?)

My diploma! Yes, I officially have my Master of Science in Teaching degree. I have had it since August 31, but no one told me. I only have the diploma because I walked in, stood in a line, asked the enrollment services lady, "Excuse me, I think I graduated, and I haven't received a diploma. Do you know how I could get one?" The folks in the office did some investigating, then gave me a cardboard envelope. Voila! I'm a graduate. If I were pretentious, I could sign things "Erin Kiley, M.S." I'm not pretentious...although if I get a Ph.D. or a D.A. I think I'll be rather tempted to make people call me Dr. Kiley. Heh.

As it is, I am busy applying to go back to grad school, this time for a Master's of Fine Arts in Writing. (I was thinking about a Doctorate of Arts in writing, but I don't know if I'm up to it.) I'm researching programs, tracking down letters of recommendation and transcripts, writing application essays, filling out forms and polishing my poetry, fiction and nonfiction portfolios. I'm also trying to adjust my finances so I can afford grad school.

With work, moving, being sick (three respiratory infections in three months!) computer trouble, and spending time with my friends and my boyfriend, this all kind of got away from me. The same thing happened last year, and I missed the deadline. Well, not again! Right now the U of I Writer's Workshop and Hunter College here in NYC are the frontrunners. I just hope one of them likes me, too.

In other news, work is kind of aweful (the less said the better) but I can handle it. I'm still annoyed with my roomie, but I can handle that, too. My boyfriend's fun and supportive, as are my best friends. I made it to church Sunday and enjoyed singing. Afterward, I managed to get some Christmas shopping done. Money is tight this year, between my expensive plane tickets home (I'll be in Iowa at 11:55 p.m. Dec. 21 and leave at 3:45 Dec. 28), the cost of living in NYC and trying to save for grad school so I'm trying to find presents that are thoughtful, not expensive.

Oh, and my friend (and former college roomie) Kelly is coming to visit this weekend. Yay! She gets in Friday night and leaves Monday morning. I'm trying to get a lot done this week so I can just hang out with her all weekend. We're going to have so much fun!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Until Tuesday, I had no idea what I was doing for Thanksgiving. I had bought a frozen turkey dinner, just in case. I was contemplating going to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade the way I did my first year in the city. The thing is, the weather reports were predicting a miserable day. I was also considering volunteering to help a charity serve Thanksgiving dinner. Then Tom called me and invited me to have dinner with his family. I agreed.

The thing was, I'd kind of gotten pschyed up about volunteering. Then I found my opportunity. I got of work Wednesday, made a batch of fudge to take to dinner, then went to "the theological seminary" to help prepare meals that would be served the next day. I was a particularly valuable member of the crew because cutting onions doesn't make me cry. I also learned a fabulous method for doing so. Too bad I don't really like onions. Everyone there was just so cheerful and warm. Clearly if I had decided to spend Thanksgiving with those folks, it still would have been a good one.

Eventually I tore myself away, quickly went home, showered and packed a bag of stuff for the weekend. Tom's brothers' band (Dead Men Dreaming) were playing at Lit Lounge. I didn't get there, carrying the world's fullest backpack, until after their set was over. I ditched my bag under a bench. (Perhaps that was a mistake. Some of the clothes inside ended up beer-soaked, but at least I wasn't carrying them all night.) At one point I heard a ruckus behind me and Tom was making a wierd face. It turns out Tom's brothers and their friends were giving him thumbs-up and shouts of approval following my arrival.

The next day, we went to his parents' house. His parents, his brothers and his dad's parents all live there. They're this hilarious Italian family: warm and loud and arguing, but mostly happy.
When we came in, I asked Tom if I should remove my shoes. His dad's first words to me were: "That depends. Did you step in shit out there?" Then they preceded to feed me until I thought I might explode. At 1:30 there was a huge antipasto course of meats, cheeses and fried artichokes which, it turns out, I like. They were shocked that I'd never had it before.

His grandmother asked it I like Italian food. I replied that I did. "But you're not Italian?" I admitted I wasn't and she sighed sadly, then shrugged. "Well, at least you like Italian food."

People watched football for a while. Dinner was served at 3:30 and was enourmous, leaving all of us stuffed for hours to come. Then we watched The DaVinci Code (I fell asleep). Then, in lieu of the evening meal we had the dessert course. Chocolate pudding pie, apple pie, pinoli cookies, rainbow cookies, my fudge, nuts and ice cream. There was also port, which is perhaps the most delicious alcoholic beverage I've ever tasted.

The next day Tom and I walked to Prospect Park. Before we left, I told him I needed a snack, but we both forgot. Halfway through the park, my bloodsugar crashed, and he had to half-drag me to a snackbar. I didn't like that. I'm very independent, and it makes me feel so silly. I'm a strong woman, yet if I forget a snack I'm suddenly so light-headed and weak that I'm in need of rescue. On the other hand, it's probably good for me. I have trouble letting myself depend on others. After we got home, Tom make me some amazing Italian dish that involved noodles and clams and garlic and fresh parsley. Yum! I love men who cook.

Saturday began well enough. We made french toast and bacon. Later we went to a birthday party for Tom's friend, Pablo. Pablo is from Barcelona. His wife, Janey, is six months pregnant. She's American, but was born in Korea. They're a fun couple. We had lunch at Heartland Brewery, then went to see Volver, the new Almodovar film. The movie was great except for two notably fake elements: Penelope Cruz's curves and her singing voice. Yep, that is definitely a padded booty(I found confirmation online), and I'm pretty sure her bra was padded, too. And the voice? Beautiful. Very Spanish. Just not very Penelope Cruz.

After that we went to Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station, where we met up with more of Pablo and Janey's friends. I was afraid the smell would nauseate me, but luckily it didn't. We had so much fun. Then Tom and I went back to my place since I wanted to get up in time for church this morning. When I opened the door to the building, I could already hear the music. I knew it was coming from my apartment. I opened the door, and fourty people looked at me. I walked around. Rick was nowhere in sight. We decided to ignore it and go to bed. We even managed to fall asleep. Then, at two a.m., the guy with the speakers arrived. We woke up. People kept trying to come into my room (thank goodness I locked the door...but how many people were in my bedroom before I got home and locked it?) I went out again, in my pajamas. Now there were easily fifty people, spilling out of the apartment into the stairwells, both up one flight and down one flight.

I found Rick and informed him it was too loud. He replied that he didn't know I was home and said he'd keep it down and get them to leave "earlier than I'd planned." But it didn't get quieter. The music was so loud, it was creating waves in the glass of water on my bedside table. I went out again and found Rick. I asked him what leaving "earlier" meant. He replied that it meant 3 or 4 a.m. (Oh, and in the past he's told me Dominicans are very "flexible about time", so 3 or 4 means at earliest 4 or 5.)I told him I had somewhere to be in the morning and would have to leave by 9 a.m. I asked him why he didn't call me to let me know he was having a party. He said, "Well, I would have invited you, but I knew you wouldn't come. I mean, I thought about calling you, but I didn't think you were coming home, so I didn't."

I finally just made him give us money for a cab (It cost $45!) and at 2:30 a.m. Tom and I left to get a cab to his apartment in Brooklyn. As we were leaving, Tom heard a guy on the stairs say, shaking his head in disgust, "How you not gonna tell your own roommate?" Hee. Even the partygoers were on my side. I did not wake up in time for church choir practice. I am, even now, mad at Rick.

But that aside, it was a wonderful Thanksgiving that reminded me of how lucking I am to have my friends, my family, my boyfriend, and all my opportunities. I know that I have something to offer, ways to make this world a better place. I'm doing my best to find them and use them to the best of my ability. Happy Thanksgiving.

Hi, Mom!

My mom hadn't spoken to me in a while, and she said it'd been a while since I posted (6 days). So since my internet connection is actually working for once, I better update while I can. Thursday night I had Parent Teacher Conferences. It went fine; I'm great with parents. Then Friday I installed an overhead light (a quite affordable paper lantern) in my bedroom. Yay! It's no longer all shadowy in there. Now I can read well or put on makeup with accuracy. Then I made fudge for Fake Thanksgiving.

Friday night, I stayed at Tom's because Rick was having a loud party, and I was not in the mood. Saturday, Tom and I went to Fake Thanksgiving at his friends' house. It had all the trappings of normal Thanksgiving, only cooler. The football game was on TV, but muted with great music playing. Dinner was so delicious. Everyone loved my fudge ("You made this? Seriously?") After dinner we all played Trivial Pursuit, which we all feared might be boring. Actually, I've rarely laughed so hard in my life. We got together at 1 p.m. and didn't go home until midnight. Then Sunday Tom and I hung out more, watching movies and eating Chinese food.

Today was work: I found out that I'm supposed to do nothing but test preparation from now until the statewide exam in January. Yep. That won't be at all boring for the students. They definitely won't get bored and act out as a result. Nope, not at all. Grr. Two more days until vacation.

I haven't decided how to spend Thanksgiving yet. I'm trying to decide between going to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade or volunteering serving dinner to the needy. I'm leaning toward the shelter idea. If I don't talk to you before turkey day, dear family and friends, know that I love you. I am so greatful to have your love and support in my life.

Tsampa, Solas, Carne and Otto's Shrunken Head

Those are just a few of the places I've been spending time. It's been so long since I posted! It's partly been because I've been busy, and partly because of a faulty internet connection. Anyway, two Saturdays ago was Tom's birthday party. It was in Brooklyn, and hard to get to due to train repairs. It's a continual problem for citizens of Brooklyn. That's when I realized: Tom and I have a long distance relationship! It took me more than an hour to get to his place. More than an hour is a long distance relationship.

I was hanging out with all of his friends, and they were a lot of fun. I got to see Lex, too, which was nice. Tom liked his present: The Encyclopedia of Heavy Metal. On the inside cover, I inscribed it, "If we had an inside joke, this is where it would go." That made him laugh. I spent the night at his place where we made out and ended up having the relationship talk. The result: He's officially my boyfriend. The next day we lazed around in bed, ordered pizza for lunch, watched a movie, had leftover pizza for supper and watched the Simpsons before Tom drove me home.

Then there was a week of work --the less said about that, the better-- and then it was the weekend again. Yay! (The most interesting thing about that week is I read a new book, Bee Season, which started out charming with an intoxicating take on language. It ended up all weird and sad and disorienting. Anyway, back to the story...)

Friday night the girls and I went to dinner as usual, but Tom ended up joining us. You see, Laura made it seem like all the guys were coming. Laura was wrong.Tom didn't mind, though. We had delectable Tibetan food at Tsampa. I devoured every scrap of my food, then scavenged leftovers from Laura and Riza. "Wow, Erin," Laura exclaimed. "I've never seen you eat like this." Then we had drinks at Solas before going to Otto's Shrunken Head. Who By Fire (Laura's boyfriend Ryan's band) had a gig there. Yes, that's the name of the band, and they stand by it. The band's pretty good. The lead singer sounds like he's channeling Jim Morrison, though, and Tom correctly surmised that it would help if they played some of their songs in different keys to make them more distinctive.

The next morning, Tom and I decided to make brunch. The bacon frying set off the fire alarm. Oops! Also, I'd never made pancakes and he hadn't made them in years. They were rubbery, not fluffy. Any suggestions? After that we went for a walk in Morningside park. It's a decent little neighborhood park, the most distinctive attribute of which is a gorgeous waterfall. We walked by the cathedral of St. John the Divine and its nearby trippy Peace Fountain, which includes a giant crab, giraffes and the Archangel Michael fighting satan. Nestled in the base of the fountain was a live albino peacock just wandering around. (Seriously. No, seriously.) For supper we went to a restaurant named Carne (Meat? Who names their restaurant Meat?) where we got some scrumptious hamburgers.

Then we tried to go see Stranger Than Fiction at Lincoln Center. It was sold out, though, so we just sat on the edge of that pretty, lit fountain in front of the Metropolitan Opera (see photo at left I downloaded froma talented photographer's blog, Livinginny. I didn't take the photo, nor am I in it, but it's a perfect shot.) and talked and kissed. He spent the night again and I barely made it out of bed in time for choir practice Sunday morning. I went to church and sang my heart out.

Monday it was back to work and today was Parent Teacher Conferences. Now it's just tomorrow, Thursday (with the second half of Parent Teacher Conferences making my work day last from before 8 a.m. to after 7 p.m.) and Friday until it's the weekend again. It's probably not a good sign when you're counting down to the weekend on a Tuesday night, but oh, well.

Happy Halloween!

Last night, Tom and I went to see the Village Halloween Parade. It was a crazy crush of people, and a mad show of color and light. I had my digital camera, which is challenging to adjust in the dark (I think I might have a time-release setting?). Also, many of the pictured were taken one-handed with the camera held over my head. The result is a bunch of blurs, but it really captures the craziness of the event, so...cool.

This was a freaky ghost-baby-butterfly puppet that swooped over us.





This is Kiss.









These are crazy lit-up pumpkin-man-puppets. There were guys wearing crazy suits that controlled the pumpkin man puppets around and above them.




I have no idea what this float is, but the swirling color is exemplary of the parade, which included a few floats, some marching bands, people on stilts, and random costumed individuals. You see, anyone who wants to be in the parade can be! They just have to show up at the staging site.

We eventually managed to squeeze our way out of the crowd and went for a peaceful dinner before making our way home to catch a bit of sleep before work in the morning. So much fun!

The most popular girl in the world!

Yes, I've been SO popular this week! In my last post, I mentioned my Saturday date with Tom to Laura's party. Well, soon more and more things were piling up. Chris, husband of Madrid, called me to invite me to his birthday party on Friday. Jay and Dea, my aunt and uncle, called to see if I wanted to sight-see. Tom called, mid-week to see if I wanted to go to dinner and a movie on Thursday. Yes, everone, yes! I want to do all those things and go to church on Sunday. Then on Friday Tom texted me to ask if I wanted to go to a costume party after Chris's birthday party. Yes, again, some more!

Wednesday I couldn't sleep, and on Thursday I was exhausted but I didn't care because I was excited about my date. Tom and I went to L'Annam for yummy Vietnamese food. Then we went to see The Prestige, a movie about magic which was way trippy and surprising. That's all I can really say without giving things away. After that we went to have a drink and basically spend more time together.

Friday I rushed home from work, showered, did my makeup and figured out an outfit that could use the skirt from my costume and hide the bustier. I ended up putting on a cardigan, wrap-style, which I fasted on with a brooch. I also put on my patent leather Maryjanes with the three-inch heels. Yow and ow. I printed and framed a cute photo I took of Madrid and Chris and ran out the door. I was late to meet everyone at Red Bamboo, but they were all forgiving and Chris liked his present.

Then I hopped on the train to Brooklyn to meet up with Tom. His apartment is amazing! So spacious it tempts me to move to an outer bourough...well, tempts me for about 90 seconds. He had jazz on the stereo when I came in, which was a relief. You see, he is a heavy metal afficionado, and its nice to know he listens to other things, too. The party was great. I was an evil Girl Scout from Troop 666 (I sewed demerit badges onto a sash-- see photo above) and Tom was Rowdy Roddy Piper (a pro wrestler when we were kids).

Tom's friends are hilarious. Following the wrestling theme, someone else was The Ultimate Warrior. They had a half-hearted match in which Tom hit him over the head with a chair. One group of ladies were dressed as the Golden Girls, which they played with great commitment. Hee! The party ended so late that I stayed over at Tom's place. The next day, he drove me into the city. I had just enough time to shower and throw on clothes before going to meet Jay and Dea.

We had lunch at their hotel, The Marriott Marquis Time Square. Then Dea and I chatted while Jay had a meeting. After that, they wanted to go to Serendipity III for frozen hot chocolate. I suspected they would need a reservation, but didn't think to mention it. When we got there, there was an hour-long wait and they weren't in the mood so I took them down the block for a frozen hot chocolate at Dylan's Candy Bar. Then we proceeded to Central Park where we walked around admiring the scenery and snapping photos. Jay seemed to be having a great time. I then took them to the subway station, dropped them off at the right platform and rushed home.

Due to a train delay, it took forever to get home, but I did, threw my costume (for Madrid to borrow) and Laura's present into my bag, changed my clothes and hit the road. I called Tom to warn him I'd be late. It was his first time meeting my friends, so I apologized profusely and told him to look for Laura, "the girl with the shiny, shiny black hair." He did, and according to Laura he was great. After I arrived, it came time to order. Tom was aghast that I didn't know what gnocci was. He explained, and my friend told me not to order it, Madrid or Laura (I don't remember which) saying, "You'd eat three bites and be full." Hee. I love that my friends know me so well. Laura and her man Ryan, Madrid and Chris, Riza and Pete, and Carolina had all beat me there. I felt bad that Carolina was on her own. Laura had sworn she wouldn't be a singleton, but all the other singles baled. D'oh!

Laura loved her present, which included a pair of earrings and an oil pastel portrait I drew of her as a fairy. She loves fairies.

After dinner, Madrid and Chris ran off to a kinky Halloween party. We went to No Malice Palace, aka GothHop Bar (known for its Hip-Hop music and goth decor, as well as its lack of a sign out front. There was a sad girl sitting by herself on one of the couches. We all discussed her loneliness. Carolina, in particular, expressed concern. I told her she would be the perfect one to go talk to the depressed fairy. She could use excuse of being the only singleton. But no. She and Tom decided that I, as the nice one, should be the one. So I went over and chatted with Emily (the depressed fairy), whose friends were late. I kept her laughing until her friends arrived. Meanwhile, Tom got to know my friends.

Laura was drinking away, having a good old time. Usually Laura can drink anybody else under the table, but she was good and drunk. She was saying things like, "Erin, I felt your drawing. I felt because I didn't know for sure if you did it because I didn't know you could draw. I didn't know you could draw. You didn't tell me you could draw like that and all this time you could draw, but I didn't know you could draw." Hee! I replied that she should be careful feeling the drawing because oil pastels can smear. "I know!" she replied, very seriously. Heeeee!

Eventually, a good portion of my night was spent giving Laura glasses of water and stroking her hair. I tried to talk her into going home, as she was wobbley, but she wasn't having it. Right before I left she was boogying down to the floor. Then others helped her back up. As we were leaving, the usually reserved Riza was giving Pete a lap dance. Errm...okay. It was impossible to get a train home, and the cabs were playing hard to get, too. The wind was so strong, I was almost blown off my feel. Literally.

Then we got back to my place and, sorry to yadda-yadda-yadda the best part, but, yadda-yadda-yadda, "Morning! Want a waffle?" Then I ran off to church and sang in the choir. It was so much fun. After that Then I had to run errands (almost blowing away again on the way home) and prepare my food for the week. I was invited to a party where Ryan's band was playing, but I managed to turn it down so I could fall into bed where I basically passed out. Sleep, precious sleep, for more than six consecutive hours. Hooray!

Marathon Date

Last week, Tom and I scheduled a date for Saturday afternoon just in case. You see, Tom is a Mets fan, and was hoping they would win the pennant and continue on their attempt to conquer the world. Or something.

Anyway, that didn't happen. They lost on Thursday. Friday night I went out with my best pals and he with his. Then, as planned, I called him to iron out the details. I was hoping we'd switch to a Saturday night date, thinking that would be a better sign.

"No, why don't we go ahead and get together for brunch?"

I was a bit disappointed, but agreed, suggesting we meet up at Itzocan Bistro, which I adore. The next day, there we were, enjoying a scrumptious breakfast. I had the three chile Eggs Benedict. He had crepes with walnuts and caramel sauce, the only non-egg food on the menu. He doesn't like eggs. I know! He says he's tried to like them, but it's never worked, though he likes just about every other food. I kind of like the anti-eggs thing. It makes him more understanding about the foods I don't like. Wow. With obsessive minutiae like this, it's no wonder I have such a large, riveted readership.

Anyway, after brunch we planned to go to the museum-- perhaps Museo del Bario or Museum of the City of New York. But it was such a gorgeous day we decided to walk around the park for the next three hours, zig-zagging all around. We explored the Conservatory Gardens, circled Harlem Meer, hiked through some rocks, found a few waterfalls and chatted. We somehow ended up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That's where we spent the next few hours. I'd never seen the moon viewing room which was beautiful. Then, sitting on the front steps we engaged in long-term p.d.a., which I'm not used to, but is fun. I was thinking, "Wow. For once I'm one of those couples I'm always seeing, so wrapped up in their own little world."

Then we went to Vol de Nuit, a Belgian Beer Bar where we had mussels and pommes frites and I had a lovely framboise (raspberry flavored) beer. The Bishop girls introduced me to it years ago, and it's the only beer I've ever liked.

Over dinner we discussed lots of things, including the fact that niether of us is into playing games in relationships. So later, he was giving me long, flirty, questioning looks. I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Are we laying it all on the table?" He confirmed that we were indeed laying it all on the table.

"Okay. You can come back to my place. We can fool around for a while, but I won't have sex with you. Okay?"

"Let's go!" he exclaimed, grabbing my hand and leading me from the bar. We went back to my apartment and made out for hours. He never pushed the issue, instead making the best possible use of where we were. It was great. He didn't even mind getting up early the next morning so I could go to choir practice and church. He was a bit surprised by it, though. As he put it, "It's just...no one I know goes to church, so it's a bit out of left field." Sunday morning he was a total sweetheart and we shared toaster waffles for breakfast.

Anyway, the marathon date was great. Next weekend I'm taking Tom to Laura's birthday party, which coincidentally falls on his birthday. He's having his own birthday party the following Saturday, to which I am invited. Yes, we're already planning two weeks in advance. And now I've got to pick out a birthday present for a guy I've only had two dates with! If you have to have a problem, that's a pretty good problem to have.



P.S. My job is terrible, but I've decided to just try my best and not dwell.

The First Date with Tom 2.0

After Lex's birthday party, I told you all about the smart, funny guy who asked for my number. Unfortunately, he happened to be a math teacher named Tom. I decided not to let that strange coincidence get in the way and gave him my digits.

Then, on Tuesday, Tom 2.0 (the newer, better Tom) called to ask me out. I said yes and asked him what he had in mind. He began, "Okay, this may be a dorky suggestion, but there's this think called Hell House." According to Wikipedia, a Hell House "is a haunted house-style attraction typically run by fundamentalist Christian churches [...] Hell houses frequently feature exhibits that are meant to depict sin and its consequences. Common examples include abortion, homosexuality, suicide, use of alcoholic beverages and other recreational drugs, pre-marital sex and occultism."

I replied that that sounded awesome. A Brooklyn theater group decided to put on the Hell House. They're not really mocking the original. They want expose people here to a different view of the world. It's really up to the audience how they take it. That's why the writer of the Hell House script gave them the rights to put it on. He said he felt it would cause some New Yorkers to convert.

I found the extremity of the script to be funny, but if I'd seen it when I was twelve, I would have been scared to death. In fact, I think I would still be traumatized to this day. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Friday night, I rushed around to be ready for our date. He's said he would aim to pick me up at 6:30, but with traffic might not make it until 7. At 7:10, I hadn't even heard from him. I was pacing around my aparment, looking hot but steaming mad. I thought he'd stood me up. Then the phone rang. He apologized for being late and told me he was stuck in traffic. At 8, he finally picked me up. I was a bit crabby until I saw how upset he looked. He'd been on the road since 4:30. It turns out, a major route from Brooklyn was recently closed (and will remain closed for the rest of the year). Now all the other bridges between Manhattan and Brooklyn are packed.

Anyway, we went straight to the Hell House. The actors were amazing. They managed to play every scene straight, tears and all, while the audience laughed. The script was just so over the top.

After the show ended, we went to a quirky French restaurant. The food was great and we talked and laughed. Then we lingered at the table. Tom 2.0 said, "I don't want to go home, and we can't go to a bar..." (since I'm on antibiotics) "...I've got an idea. There's someplace I want you to see. Let's go."

He took me to the Brooklyn Promenade (see photo above, which I downloaded from Petite Pomme). "This is why I live in New York," I said with a sigh. The view was gorgeous. It's also kind of surreal because it looks so serene, but the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway is humming away under your feet.

Anyway, it was 1 a.m. and we strolled along admiring the view. He was casting these little sideways looks at me. I just smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "What are you going to do?" And he kissed me.

When he kissed me I was disappointed. Kiss. "Damn," I thought. Kiss. "And I really liked him." Kiss. "Now I'm going to have to find a way..." Kiss. "...to tell him I'm not interested when he calls, and..." Kiss. "Wait, what was I saying?" Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

We kissed, on and on. I was bent back a little, and we kissed until my back began to ache. I stumbled, and we ended up leaning against the railing, which was helpful. We kissed for a long time. Suddenly, a bunch of people showed up, even though it was about 1:30. We ignored them and kept kissing until they went away. We kissed until we were both shaking. Once in a while, we had to stop to get my hair out of the way. "Buzz cut," I whispered. "Don't do that!" he replied, laughing. We kept kissing.

He kissed me with his hands in my hair. Once in a while, he would grab a handful of it just hard enough. Other times, we would stop with our foreheads touching (which I've always been a sucker for on TV and in the movies, but had never experienced so perfectly in real life). A couple of times, we paused with our lips almost touching, each daring the other to be the first to close the distance and start the kiss. I apologized for my cold hand against his face. He took my hand in his, and placed both our hands just below my collarbone on the skin exposed by the v-neck of my shirt and coat. It was sweet. Then he said softly, "You know you don't have to go home."

"I know," I replied, "but things are moving really fast. They've already gone further that I'd usually take it on a first date. I don't think I've ever kissed for so long before."

"You're fun," he said with a laugh. When we got to the car, it was 2 a.m. He drove me home and called the next day to see how I was doing. So far, so good.

A Weighty Issue: Part 2

My mom always referred to a bare midriff as a "credibility gap." So why am I baring my credibility gap on the internet?

Well, it's to tell you about something very near and dear to me. It's the diet and exercise system that has changed my life. It's Megaloozalux 2000, and it allows me to eat what I want and still look hot and trim in just seconds a day.

How does it work? Simple! You just inhale!

Sorry. I saw an infomercial for an exercise system (which came with a diet plan). It was called "The Bean," and I found myself wanting it. I had to be firm with myself: "E.J., you barely find time for yoga anymore, let alone the Yoga Booty Ballet set you bought. And that dance hoop system? You almost broke a mirror. So, no. No, you cannot buy The Bean!"

What's more, I knew the photos were likely fake. It's easy with fat suits and Photo Shop. Then I decided to see just how easy it could be. I tucked the bottom of my shirt into my bra and stuck my tummy out as far as possible and took the first picture. Then I inhaled, flexed my abs, changed my posture into a very uncomfortable position and snapped the second picture. (My sucky-inny abs do look kind of cute. Hee!) The real me is somewhere in between, and that's all right.

Look, people, I fall for it sometimes, too, but lets stay strong together, okay? We'll eat a little less and move a little more. It doesn't really require giving more money to what is already a multibillion dollar industry. Right? Right?

Nesting

It's Columbus Day (a.k.a. Our People Conquered Your People Day), and no school, so YAY! I had daydreamed about having a fun NYC day. I thought about sight-seeing or hanging out in the park. The thing is, I've started feeling sick again...or still? I don't know. So I spent the first half of the day lying in bed in my room and the other half at the doctor. I had to wait for hours, but I've got medicine now, so hopefully I'll get better.

Speaking of my room, yesterday I did a little bit of nesting, decorating my room (see photos above). I love my quilt. My bed doesn't have a headboard, so I decided to put up curtains. The red curtains aren't that shiny in real life. Another cool thing is, now that I've got the curtain rods in place, it would be easy to change and put up whatever curtains I want. I need to pick some art for the wall on the right. I might use a portrait Val created. Anyway, I'm loving my new room!

Happy Birthday, Lex!

Last night I stayed out until after three and had a great time. I didn't feel tired even though I'd only had four hours sleep the night before. What magical gathering kept me going into the madrugada? Lex's 25th birthday party!

I went to dinner with Carolina and Laura and Mills Korean (which is not just a few blocks from my apartment--Yay!) and had gorgeous fried dumplings and a beef dish fried up in a hot stone pot. After that culinary exstacy, Carolina drove us downtown to the party. On the way we stopped at Bearded Papa's, a reknowned cream puff store. I didn't have one, but I got one to give Lex, along with her pop-up surfing birthday card and a few drinks. Then we looked for a parking space FOREVER. Okay, it wasn't forever, but with the stop-and-go traffic steadily increasing my nausea, it felt like it. Then, when we got out of the car and started walking the many blocks to our destination, Mama's, I began to miss the car.

You see, I was wearing a beautiful dress, thinking, "This will be the last time it will be warm enough to wear this dress this year." Turns out, I was wrong. Last time I wore it was the last time it was warm enough. Brr. We got there early and waited at a bar across the street which had no name, but looked gothic and played hip-hop music. I nicknamed it "The Goth-Hop Bar." I snapped a lovely picture of Laura and a silly one of Carolina.

When we went to Mama's, I saw a group of people that I instantly assumed were Lex's crew. Lex laughed that I could look at a bar full of people and instantly know which ones were her friends. Then we realized we'd left the cream puff behind. "A pastry?" Lex asked. "You better run and get it, woman!" We did, and rescued it before anyone at Goth-Hop even realized it was there.

Lex flipped for the card (see downloaded picture at left) and enjoyed the cream puff (although her girlfriend, Jen, loved it even more and demanded to know where it had come from. It looks like Bearded Papa's has a new devotee to join its fanatical customer base).

I was surprised to see Drew there, because Lex and I thought he'd bail when he found out I was coming. It was a little awkward at first, but he made it a point to come and talk to me. I congratulated him on his career. He told me about his new rooomie. I told him about my move. He made me laugh until my stomach hurt, just like old times. I don't think that the party changed anything, though. At the end of the night, Lex's former roomie Ken and I were splitting a cab uptown, going right past Drew's apartment. He declined to share the cab even though it was late and cold. I suppose it could be a money-saving thing, but he looked...pensive. It was disappointing.

Here's a funny side-note: the beatiful dress? At one point a strap fell, exposing the entire right cup of my bra. Whoops. And even when it wasn't falling down, it exposed a lot of cleavage. Well, cleavage isn't quite the right term, because I wasn't squished together, but it was a plunging neckline. Anyway, Jen had made a bunch of t-shirts labeled "WWLD?" on the front and "What Would Lex Drink?" on the back. When Lex saw Drew talking to me, she gave us shirts and insisted we put them on "to show you're with my party." Later, I thanked her for making me less self-conscious. I didn't want to seem like I was flaunting myself in front of Drew.

"I saw you two talking," she said, "and I thought, 'Erin, for God's sake, cover those up!' Although I am glad I got to see them for my birthday. It makes me like you even more."

"You like me more because I'm apparently unable to dress myself properly?"

"Basically, yes."

I had such an amazing time hanging out with Lex and her friends. I’ve been missing Lex a lot, and we keep giving each other the whole “Let’s get together soon. No, seriously” treatment. Her friends were entertaining. I also met an adorable, smart, funny guy who asked for my number.

There's just one problem: he's a math teacher named Tom. What are the odds? Lex told me, "I think he likes you." I replied, “Well, he’s great. He’s adorable. But he’s A MATH TEACHER NAMED TOM! I just got out of a relationship with a math teacher named Tom.”

“Okay, that is a little weird, but if you’re going to make an exception, make it for Tom. I never advocate for my friends in romantic situations, but in this case, I will. You should flirt with Tom some more.”

All night, Lex had been suggesting I dance on a table or the bar. I ruled out the bar because it was covered with candles, but replied, “It’s your birthday. I’ll dance on the table if you will.” Somehow she talked Tom into it, too. She wanted to, but she was a little bit scared. I said, “Look, what’s the worst that could happen? The bartender gets mad and tells us to get down. We get down.” And that’s precisely what happened. Hee. It’s all for the best. Those tables weren’t very sturdy anyway.

Happy birthday, Lex! Congratulations on 25 years of life. Thank you for welcoming me to the city, for giving me love and support (even when you were put in the uncomfortable position of being the go-between) and for all the good times. Knowing you is an adventure, and I love it.

This week I’ve learned

Being lonely can be tough.

So can having someone. An independent friend of mine is having relationship problem because she’s become too dependent on her mate. She doesn’t know how to be independent with someone. And from experience I can tell you, if you’re too independent in a relationship, the result is just as bad. On one side of the spectrum, your partner feels smothered. On the other side, your partner feels unnecessary. It’s a tough problem to solve, and I don’t envy her that.

My phone is not meant to be a music player. My MP3 player is gone. It was either stolen at school, lost in the move, or lost or stolen somewhere/sometime else that same week. One way or the other, it was very sad. It was a present from Mom and Dad, and I loved it.

Instead of paying a lot of money on a new Shuffle that might get lost or stolen, I decided to just spend a little cash to use my phone’s music capabilities. My Verizon store sold me the wrong kit. I went back and got the right one, then went home, used it and found there was room for exactly three songs on my phone. I made several calls and discovered I needed an external memory card. Nice of them to tell me after the fact. The guy at Circuit City sold me the wrong one (“You’re sure this is the right one?” “Yes, I am sure.” “Really?” “Of course! It’s my job.” Ha.). I went back and got the right one, but for some reason it’s still not working. AAAaaaargh!!!!!!!! Sometimes I hate technology. [I have since gotten it to work, and it was cheaper than buying a new MP3 player, but it was such a hassle!]

The people at my church are cool! Apple picking and the church picnic at lovely Rockland State Park were so much fun. I was afraid it was going to be me and a bunch of married people and their small children, but I was wrong. There were tons of young adults around, many of whom are members of a group that has brunch every Sunday after church. Pastor Bill calls it “The Brunch Bunch.” I rode up in a van with them, and two girls and I sat in the very back discussing linguistic stuff. At one point we realized the people in the front were listening and discussing our conversation. “We were just marveling at your conversation, that’s all,” said Pastor Sara. Then Mike piped in, “I thought the cool kids sat in the back of the bus. “Well,” I replied, “that’s the sad part: we are the coolest kids on the bus.” “Oooh!” everyone exclaimed, before complimenting my quick thinking and advanced skills in mocking.

We picked a few apples, but mostly just enjoyed the fall air and the scenery at the orchard. Everyone engaged in an almost constant stream of witty banter, which made me feel very at home. The more a conversation sounds like dialogue from an old screwball comedy, the happier I am.

Then we went to Rockland State Park for the picnic. For quite some time we watched ducks and swans, as well as one enormous caterpillar. Then we played with a Frisbee for quite a while.

At one point, the minister dropped trou, which shocked us until we realized he was merely stripping down to tennis shorts in the hopes of getting someone to pick up a racket and play. Then we all ate and ate and ate. We went home tired and full just before it started to rain.

Singing with the choir on Sunday was great, and some of my old singing skills are coming back. Afterward, I joined The Brunch Bunch. They’re supportive, dedicated to community service and Christ-centered, yet surprisingly and pleasingly sarcastic. I hope to spend more time with them in the future.

A Weighty Issue

It amazes me, the amount of time my friends and I spend thinking about and talking about weight. We are strong, educated feminists. Most of us do not read fashion magazines. Most of our mothers didn’t pressure us about weight loss. And yet, how much time do we spend thinking about, talking about, lamenting, our weight, caloric intake, exercise regimens? Do less-educated or non-feminist or fashion-mag-reading women worry about it more, or less? Well, as I see it, the problem has many layers:

1-The mate-snagging thing/the media

People don’t want to be lonely. They want to…well, snag a mate. And because we find people on TV shows and in the movies attractive, we think we’ll be more attractive if we look like them. (Do we remember that the people we are attracted to in real life don’t often look like The Desirable Men of stage and screen? Not often enough.) TV and Movie chicks tend to be tall and thin, yet improbably also have slamming curves. If you move into the realm of models, the degree to which The Desirable Women are genetic freaks only increases. Genetic freakiness aside, we know that their appearances are also a product of dieticians, personal trainers, and in some cases drugs and plastic surgery. Does that stop us from trying to look like them and feeling inferior when we do not succeed? No, it does not.

2- The shared-vulnerability bonding thing

In the movie Mean Girls, there’s a scene where The Plastics are all discussing their bodies. Each girl complains about one of her body parts. If she’s lucky, her friends quickly reassure her that she’s wrong. It quickly becomes clear to Kady that she must find something to hate about her body if she wants to fit in.

It was that way when I was in high school, too. I never liked playing that game, so I didn’t, and alienated me from a lot of my classmates. Now I find myself playing the game from both sides. It’s a surprisingly cozy ritual. You confess a weakness. A friend responds by telling you you’re wrong or confessing a similar weakness. You end up feeling closer.

The same conversation gets played out over and over: L-“I want to lose ten pounds.” M-“Why? You look fabulous!” L-“I don’t like my tummy.” E-“Shut up! Your tummy is adorable.” M- “And if you’re too big, what about me? I’ve been trying to lose all this weight FOREVER. I’m all…crumbly. I just…I really used to love my body, you know?” E- “I know what you mean, but I actually think you look nice with the weight. I think you’re actually prettier. I on the other hand keep inexplicably losing weight. I’m getting kind of…gaunt. I eat! You guys see me eat.” L-“You are kind of skinny. Maybe you should eat more.” E-“I eat a ton already.” M-“Shut up, Slim.” E- “Sorry.” Over and over, as comforting as Mr. Rogers’ ritual changing from jacket and tennis shoes to cardigan and house shoes.

So it turns out…

There are actually only two layers. Okay, three if you count health. We always say its about health, but I don’t really believe it. “Health and physical fitness” is the same excuse beauty pageants use to defend the bathing suit competition. We’re just embarrassed to admit that we all want to look like Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition hotties. Well, health is important and our nation has an epidemic of obesity, so we should consider our health when forming our diet and exercise choices. I’m just don’t think most people really do. All I know is we all keep trying to improve ourselves. We eat healthier and exercise more. We accept ourselves more and support one another.