I'm currently thinking...

...that there's no way I'm watching the State of the Union address tonight. I'll be going out for drinks instead.

...that I'm hungry and the soup I brought for lunch is not really appealing.

...that spinning will probably kick my butt tonight.

...that I'm excited about my new wine writing gig.

...that I wish it would snow.

...that my birthday is next week!!

...that I don't really care that Valentine's Day is coming up. The only thing I hate about that day is that a lot of my fellow single people use it as an excuse to get good and depressed. I just want to tell those people to get a life!

...that in 5 weeks I'll be in France!

...that I really need some new heels for work - but they don't have my size in Black. Wahhhh!!!

...that I'm looking forward to a certain someone cooking me dinner later this week.

...that I want one of my friends to throw a chill superbowl party where I can just eat chili and watch commercials.

What are you guys currently thinking about?

Financial Priorities

I do fine, financially. Don't need for anything. Definitely want for things, but that's ok. However, like most women I think that the way I prioritize financially is interesting. Case in point: the sports bra.

I need a new one. Badly. Here is the one I wear now:












I have had it since freshman year of college - almost nine years. The elastic is totally shot. It is almost yellow with age. It is so ineffective at performing it's duties that I actually have to wear it over another bra for it to at all work.

But the new one that I want is $30. So I procrastinate buying it.

Yet last week I went out to eat three times, bought new work pants, stocked my home bar a bit, and made hotel reservations in Paris. However, I still couldn't bring myself to shell out $30 for a much needed support garment.

So there you have it folks. To Rees, food, friends, drinking, and travel are important. The well-being of her breasts in spinning class - not so much.

Bad Kitty.

Actual email transcript exchanged between Rees and her BFF's this afternoon

*Duh, read from the bottom up.


-----Original Message-----
From: Rees26@boringjob.com
Sent: Friday, January 27, 2006 2:45PM
To: Esh@bankofamerica.com; HeathuhB@insurancecompany.com
Subject: ugh

Not everybody works a cushy job at a huge bank where you not only make a shit ton of money but also get copious amounts of vacation, and yet are at the same time so expendable that you can just "sneak out early" without being missed, Esh.

I'm not bitter, though.


-----Original Message-----
From: Esh@bankofamerica.com
Sent: Friday, January 27, 2006 2:32 PM
To: Rees26@boringjob.com; HeathuhB@insurancecompany.com
Subject: Re: Re: ugh

This is where you just sneak out early...

I have a conference calls from 10 - 1 today.....please shoot me


-----Original Message-----
From: Rees26@boringjob.com
Sent: Friday, January 27, 2006 2:15 PM
To: HeathuhB@insurancecompany.com; Esh@bankofamerica.com
Subject: Re:ugh

Yup.


-----Original Message-----
From: HeathuhB@insurancecompany.com
Sent: Friday, January 27, 2006 2:13 PM
To: Rees26@boringjob.com, Esh@bankofamerica.com
Subject: ugh

are everyone else's friday afternoons going as slow as mine?????

Highly Recommended

Last night I got to see Barefoot in the Park at Barksdale Theatre. It was great! The performances were delightful, and this show marks the return of Barksdale using their old space at Hanover Tavern.















Neil Simon, great setting, good actors, and they encourage you to visit the bar during intermission. What more could you want in an evening of entertainment?

His week as a waiter

EVERYONE IN THE WORLD SHOULD READ THIS ARTICLE.

Frank Bruni, the food critic for the New York Times, spent a week working as a waiter in a busy, hip, and well-respected Boston restaurant.

Kudos, Frank. Your depiction of what it's like is dead-on, and I admire you for putting yourself on the other side of the fence. I hope that every person in New York who is a jerk to waiters and acts exactly like the people that you describe in the article (and there are PLENTY of them) reads this article. Not that it will change the way most of them actually behave, but one would hope that there would at least be a moment of two of self-realization quickly followed by embarrassment.

*If you haven't already, you'll need to create an account with NYT to read the article in full. It's free, easy, and worth it.

Follies Girls

Tonight I'm hittin' the town with my fellow Follies Girls! We all sang and tapped our little hearts out in matching (short!) outfits and wigs for a play about a year ago and became fast friends. Busy lives and schedules don't allow us to all get together that often, so we look forward to our reunions with mucho anticipation. This evening we'll be hitting the Fan, drinking wine, and gossiping like it's our JOB.












I suppose that technically there are things in the world that are better than a night with your girls, but right now I can't think of any.

*This doesn't count as posting a picture of myself, b/c people who don't know me wouldn't know which one is me AND I obviously look nothing like that in real life. Mwah-ha-ha-ha...

Reader Poll - take 1

Another blog I love does this every Monday. I thought I would give it a shot. Respond in the comment box. Everyone had better play!!!!!

1. What was your most recent purchase?

2. What was your New Year's resolution? Have you been keeping it?

3. What is your all time favorite book?

4. How do you like your eggs?

5. When is the last time you went out dancing?

6. What is your current favorite song?

7. What did you have for dinner last night?

8. What color is your underwear?

9. What was the first concert you ever attended?

10. Ask me something.

Oh, Happy Day!

For whatever reason, I am in a GREAT mood today. Work has been better lately, friends are doing lots of fun stuff, and this week is chock full of fun events. Last night I had a great Urban Family night with chili for dinner and watching Wicker Park (mmmm... Josh Hartnett...).

PLUS, Friendster message boy has now viewed my profile. Has not responded yet, but has viewed my profile. And other guy situations (which I've decided to not discuss on the blog) are also making me happy. I mean, how much better can it be than when your imaginary love life AND your real love life seem to be going well?

Yay for good weeks!!!! Hope everyone else is as tickled pink as I am.

"Risk" for 20-somethings

Yesterday was a refreshingly quiet day spent sipping coffee, reading, and making myself a yummy dinner. Later on, my 24 marathon was interrupted by the chime on my computer that indicated that I had an instant message, and before I knew it I was deep into a very meaningful conversation with Troy. As conversations often go between single people, we started discussing the opposite sex, getting dates, and what it takes to turn those dates into an actual relationship.

One thing led to another and before I knew it we were trolling Friendster looking for someone in the Richmond area who we thought would be appropriate for me to go out with.

Soon he had come across someone who seemed to be the perfect bachelor for me, and we set about coming up with a game plan for the initial contact.

Now, there is certainly a strategy involved in the sending of an online message, and since Troy and I spent much of our college years sitting around a coffee table playing either Risk or Trivial Pursuit, it is safe to say that we thoroughly enjoy sinking our teeth into any battle, then figuring out and executing a game plan.

Needless to say, this pretty quickly took on a life of its own and became not so much about the other person that I was trying to connect with, but more about the excitement of trying to get it just right.

First, my profile would have to be tailored, and the perfect picture selected. I got to work trying to make myself sound smart, yet not boring, cute, but not dumb, while he perused my photos and picked the best one. One that would make me look attractive, yet retain a bit of mystery.

Perfecting the profile took about an hour. (I told you we get all geeked out about strategy.) Then it was time to compose the message. Now keep in mind that in addition to sending a message to a complete stranger, we also had to battle the fact that it was a Saturday night that I was doing this... tricky. If he's open minded it's no big deal, but it could easily spell out L-O-S-E-R. It would have to be dealt with in a way that says "I'm comfortable being home on a Saturday night, and you should be too."

After 15 minutes of close deliberation, Troy sent me his first draft. It was pretty good. We spent the next 25 minutes or so poring over it, changing a word here or there, catching spelling mistakes. Finally we got it worked into what was virtually a three sentence opus combining every experience and assumed expertise that each of us thinks that we have amassed in the dating world. He gave me a drum roll and countdown and then....

SEND.

There it goes. Out into cyberspace. Troy and I then signed off, both of us excited at the masterpiece of carefully executed moves, writing, and strategy that we had just performed.

Now the question remains: Will my seemingly perfect bachelor respond? Are Troy and I as good at attracting attention of the opposite sex as we were at pseudo-world domination and accumulating pie pieces?

I guess you'll just have to stay tuned...

Another good one

It's an excellent forecast for you, Rees! Although no specific events will occur, there is huge promise of freedom for the next seven months. In your chief occupation and in your love life, a fundamental shift is about to occur. As the months unfold, you can expect to be more visionary, more creative, and perhaps more rebellious. This time, you'll be much more effective than in the past two or three years.

So the question is, how do I make sure that these things happen for me?

Go team

Sent to my college friends' listserve by the gay guy who was sick of incessant sports chatter that the straight men insist on sharing with the rest of us. The subect line?

"My kind of sports"















I laughed. Hard.

How much help is too much help?

Confession: Almost two years ago I moved back to Richmond after living two late-nighting, soul-searching, Bohemian-fabulous years in New York City. Armed with lots of ambition, but no marketable skills, I moved in with the 'rents and set about looking for my first "real" job. I then proceeded to live with my mother and her husband FOR A YEAR.

(The job search I suppose could have taken place in NYC, but you try going from making $1000 cash a week to being told by temp agencies that since you have no "actual experience answering phones" they'd have to start you off at $10/hour. At the time I saw moving home as a "choice", looking back I realized that I really had no other options, unless I wanted to work in restaurants the rest of my life.)

So yes, a year of no rent, no utilities, no buying groceries, and having cable piped into my bedroom like magic. At the age of 25. After two years of successfully living alone in what is widely recognized as the toughest city in the world. "If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere..." right?

Talk about humbling.

But you know what? It wasn't that bad. I actually get along really well with both of them, so I let my ferociously independent streak go dormant for a while and began to enjoy having someone around to watch TV with in the evening and chat with in the morning. I even managed to sneak boys home once in a while - the ones that weren't freaked out, but kinda turned on, by being in the parent's home.


So the question part comes in here. Now my stepsister has graduated from college and taken up permanent residence in my old bedroom. This particular stepsister is, hmmm... how do you say it? SPOILED. She's never worked a real job in her life, and since graduation has put little to no effort into finding one, even though she'll talk a big game about all of the high-paying jobs that are right around the corner for her.


Needless to say, it is driving my mother crazy. Her children always had jobs when they were growing up and through college, so the fact that she sits around and watched TV all day makes my mother practically ballistic. She is constantly on her husband's back about it, which has got to be causing strain in their relationship. I remind her - loosen up a little bit, I lived there for a year you know.


BUT, she is quick to point out, when you lived here you were working about 3 jobs the whole time, always trying to figure out what you were going to do, waiting for the right thing to come along, but working the whole time.


Yeah, I hope so. I mean, I'd like to think that my situation and my stepsister's situation are totally different. I did work the entire time I was there, even if it was a part-time, low-paying job. Something, anything, to get me out of the house and put a little bit of money in my bank account. But she just goes out to lunch every day, makes false promises about sending out resumes, and turns up her nose at the idea of getting a job at a store or something until she finds something permanent.


So, dear readers, I ask, are our situations really that different? Which is more excusable? Me at 25, moving back in and taking help from the parents, yet working my ass off the whole time at finding a solution, or her, 22 and just out of college, moving home and making no effort whatsoever to find a job of any kind?


I ask this honestly, because while I am ok with the fact that I did what I had to do, I don't really think that my mother has any right to give her husband grief for his daughter at this point.

Dismounting the Sassy Horse

In a constant effort to prove to the world just how smart, charming, and witty I really am, I often find myself riding the Sassy Horse.

The Sassy Horse can definitely be fun. It gives you power over not just other individuals, but sometimes whole groups. If you have the ability to consistently zing people with one-liners and not let snobs and intellectuals intimidate you, consider hoping on and taking a ride! But I warn you, once you get on it gets going fast and it's not always easy to get off.

Especially if you let the nerves of just meeting someone dictate the gait of the Sassy Horse. There have been way too many times where I've met someone that I thought was cool, or hot, or smart, or whatever, and I wanted them to like me. So on I climbed. And then I'd be on fire! Zing, zap, dart, pow, make a joke, tell a witty story, give a pointed look, quote a book, make another joke or two and the show's over. That was fun, and they like you! But you're exhausted.

And then the next time you meet them you have to climb back on, because that's what they expect, that's how they know you, that's why you're cool - you're pretty sure that's why they like you. Dismounting in the middle of this ride could leave awkard pauses in the conversation, self-doubt on your part, and just not as fun of a time.

So I'm changing my pace. Oh don't worry, I'll still let myself climb on and go for a ride on a regular basis. But I'll warm up to it, especially with new people. You know, let them like me for the real me, and all that crap, before I let them in on a little secret - that I can be pretty damn smart, charming, and witty too. It's just that they don't have to learn all of that secret in the first five minutes they meet me.

Reading is cool

Tonight my Book Club met. We ate pasta, drank wine, and decided on our first book of the New Year. Despite the fact that we long ago swore off Oprah's Book Club picks, we will be delving into James Frey's highly controversial A Million Little Pieces. I guess it just goes to show that the old saying about how there's no such thing as bad publicity is true.

Attention: Men

This is how it should go:

Boy and girl are introduced at party.

Boy and girl chat, getting to know each other.

Party winds down, boy offers to walk girl to her car.

Boy asks girl for phone number, saying that they should go out sometime.

Girl gives phone number, saying that that would be very nice.

Boy and girl part for the evening, exchanging pleased smiles.

*Note the absence of excessive amounts of liquor, drunk making out, and awkward strangers trying to force things on you.

At this point, I don't even much care if he calls. I am just very pleased to know that there are still civilized, polite, handsome men out there.

Specialty cocktails and Grinchy smiles

The restaurant that I used to work at served a few different specialty martinis. Because of my overexposure to them for two years, I now think that the concept of ridiculously fruity and overpriced drinks is bogus, and usually make fun of them when a place serves them. Give me a highball anyday. However, I was not always so haughty...

My friend Jessi had just moved to the city, and for one reason or another we ended up cozying up to the bar at the my restaurant one night. We started drinking some of these dangerous cocktails - which definitely packed a punch - and not much later were fairly toasted.

Every restaurant has a lurker. Tim was ours. Middle aged, silver-haired, socially awkward, lonely and totally harmless. He came in a few nights a week, sat alone at the bar, had a few drinks, chatted with the staff, and then left. Never got drunk, just wanted to go where everybody knew his name. We all were polite, but kept a reasonable distance.

He was there the same night as Jessi and I. We waved and then went back to our conversation. A few minutes later, a round of drinks appeared in front of us, from Tim. We downed them and thanked him with a wave from afar.

I remember this next sequence in slow motion. Picture it: Tim was sitting near the area of the bar where the waiters pick up their drinks. I was getting up to leave and would be passing him on the way out. Now, I am nothing if not polite, and realized that Tim deserved more of a thank you than I had given him. So I walked (stumbled) over with my arms out wide. (Did I also mention that I get very affectionate when I drink?)

Out of the corner of my eye I looked over at the service bar and saw two of my closest friends, Michael and Haydee, standing there watching the whole thing go down. Each of them separately were incredibly smart, bitchy in a loveable way, and had acidic wit. Separately they were that way. Together, and having witnessed a situation like this, they had the potential to be completely unforgiving.

But it was too late to stop. The momentum of my steps forward practically threw me into Tim's arms for a big 'ole thank you hug, complete with slurred words and a wet kiss on the cheek. Again, in slow motion I saw the look of horror on each of their faces, and then watched that horror turn into evil delight when they realized what they now had on me. Think of the smile the Grinch takes on in the beginning of the movie when he concocts his plan...







Yeah, that's the one.

Let's just say that I'm still living it down. Yes, yes, I accepted a drink from Tim, the creepy bar guy, and then decided to bestow on him what I considered at the time to be the appropriate thank you. But don't listen to them - I absolutely did not flirt with and then make out with him at the bar with the whole restaurant watching.

Give me a little credit. Geez.

Hang 'em high

Noooooo!!!

I got summoned for JURY DUTY!!!! Ahhh!!!!

All through March. Well, at least I'll hopefully just get to sit and read all day.

Unproductive

The thing that bothers me the most about being sick is that I'm wasting all of this time. Here I am with a glorious afternoon at home and the whole thing was wasted loafing on the couch and feeling puny.

"Should I try to make those banana muffins?"

"Ok, on the upside I'll get these magazines read."

"I should at least write a wine review or two."

Being unproductive is very annoying to me. My apartment is a mess. I need to clean out the litter box. And, oh yeah, I should probably try to figure out if I'm going to quit my job and uproot my entire life.

I also have got to get cable. There is nothing on in the afternoon without it.

Signing off now, annoyed.

Wouldn't ya know?

I was planning on semi-ending my seclusion and having dinner tonight with my delightful friend, Kevin, when the prickly throat and general achy-ness that I've been feeling for a few days came to a head.

Yes, that's right - I'm sick. Taking the afternoon off of work to sip tea, nap, and get myself good and addicted to 24.

Wish me luck...

The stars really GET me

Ok, I'm not a huge horoscope person, but it is fun to check them. I have to say that lately they have been DEAD ON. Today, for instance:

Overall, the climate is tense, Rees. You'll be aware of a feeling of restlessness and a longing for change, but you'll also sense a reluctance to make any real moves in that direction. Your judgment tells you that complaints that don't lead to action are meaningless. So why not be the catalyst that provokes some action?

Humph. Intersting, huh?

Self-imposed seclusion, Day 8: Rees backslides

I don't want to go back to waiting tables.

I don't want to move back to New York.

I don't want to leave my cozy apartment.

I don't want to put up with this sore throat.

I don't want to end up like Ennis.

I don't want to have lunch with my mom.

I don't want to go ballistic if someone asks me to make copies for them at work today.

Why is everything so hard for me? Why can't I just work my normal job?

I just want to go back to bed. And when I wake up, I just want to read, write, and cook for days.

Reckon

Saw Brokeback Mountain tonight. At first thought it was kinda campy, but then left feelin' real sad-like. Don't wanna end up like Ennis, all old and alone with nothin' to show fer it.

Also, I keep thinkin' and talkin' in short broken sentences just like in that there movie. Reckon that's the sign of a good 'un - it sticks with ya even after ya've left the theater.

One of the great things about being an adult...

...is that you can eat whatever you want for dinner. Tonight, for example:














Cheddar cheese, peanut butter crackers, and an apple. And you can eat it sitting at your desk, if you want.

Last night - ice cream.

Self-imposed seclusion: Day 5 - Rees takes a trip

No woman is an island, right? Right. So on Day 5 I decided to take a short road trip and visit my friend in DC. For the last week I haven't been able to bring myself to interact with the people that are the closest to me in my life, so the only proper thing to do was to get drunk with relative strangers and one old friend. Sometimes existing in relative anonymity is the only way to put up with oneself.

So Saturday afternoon I hit the road. What better way to forget all your troubles, and forget all your cares than to go to downtown DC?

The good thing about this particular friend is that we can go months without seeing each other, or even talking that much, and then come together on random occurrences and have an absolute BLAST. Ranking #1 in our favorite evenings together is the night that we went dancing and ended up picking up an entire British soccer team. So when I emailed her last Wednesday saying that I needed to escape she was all about having me come visit.

There is an interesting phenomenon that happens when one hangs out with a group total strangers of the opposite sex - you become the "new girl". Essentially, fresh meat. You suddenly possess a dazzling charm that is new to the already-established-and-bored-with-each-other social circle. Every guy wants to hit on you, buy you drinks, and hopes for a chance to hookup at the end of the night.

Needless to say, it's GREAT for the ol' ego.

And for me, the timing couldn't be better. It had been a while since I had really engaged in the act of true flirtation, and feeling pretty last night was just what the doctor ordered. I was asked out three times, didn't pay for a single drink, and woke up in the very comfortable bed of a guy who I had seen from afar and pegged as delicious before I even knew that he was with our group.

(Don't let your imaginations run too wild with that last piece of info, all of you know that at her core Rees is a lady. But I will say that he was a Very. Good. Kisser.)

On the way home this afternoon I was anxious to get back to my seclusion. I was bone tired (oops, Freudian slip) and wanting to keep up with my serious life thinking. Which, by the way, is going swimmingly. Thanks to all for your support and encouragement as I travel down this road. I'm feeling great and excited about what is to come in my life, even though I'm not nearly through ironing out the details.

In short, this mini-vacay was a great getaway.

Oh, and I was lucky enough to catch the last day of the Post Secret Exhibit this afternoon in Georgetown - absolutely amazing.

Seclusion, Day 4

At this point the seclusion is less severe. Last night I had Leah come over for a few minutes so that I could give her the rundown on the conversation with my boss the other day and to update her on the thinking progress that I had made in the last few days. When in the midst of explaining that I was thinking about moving to Europe for a year she said something to me that I think is so profound that it must be repeated with quotations around it and referenced for the rest of my life to come:

"Most people, when given the opportunity to move to Europe, wouldn't do it out of fear. You are not one of those people - why don't you capitalize on it?"

Leah left to go home and nurse her cough and I left to go catch a movie and keep thinking.

The job is not going to get better any time soon. The promotion possibility that I've been clinging to is probably months and months away. It's not because they don't feel like I'm ready or qualified, it's just that they have no need for that position. As much as they like me, they can't just create a position out of thin air for me. The thing is, I totally get that. (A logical dreamer, who knew?) And furthermore, I know that even when I do get the promotion that it will only be a temporary fix, and that in six months I will be bored out of my mind with that job, too.

You know what I really want to do? Have more time to read. Write more. Cook. Volunteer at the library. Visit John in Hawaii. Work with the recruiter in New York. Maybe take the GRE's to see if grad school is even an option. Really explore other possibilities.

So I might be going back to waiting tables.

Oh my God, I cannot believe I just said that. Memories of jerk managers on power trips forcing me to wear my hair in a ponytail, and always missing my favorite nighttime TV shows, and tax problems, and sweating in the kitchen, and sleeping until noon every day come flooding back.

But this time it would be different. I wouldn't let myself get caught in the trap of staying out too late and sleeping in - I'm too old for that. The key to allowing myself to do this would be discipline. I could not allow laziness, I'd have to stay focused on the task at hand: self-discovery.

So then I think of all of the great things that come out of that lifestyle. Money, freedom, interacting with quirky cooks and busboys, being exposed to great food and wine on a daily basis.

Obviously more thinking must be done. And will be done. On days 5,6,7,8....

Self-imposed seclusion, Day 3: Rees makes a cake

Tonight my spirits are a bit better, but I'm still feeling the seclusion thing. I dared to talk to a few people on IM tonight and as I feared I did almost nothing but complain about my job and how I want to do something new but am not sure what. Sigh. So much for social competence.

Anyway, the good news is that I went and got sushi for dinner - at least I can concentrate on my resolutions - and made this cake:

















Yum!!

Rum cake. I have had a piece. It is good.

This post is not. Back to "The Office" for me.

Movie quote of the day

From Under the Tuscan Sun, and dedicated to my friend, Taft.

Katherine: It's a great little villa. Are you going to buy it?
Frances: The way my life is currently going, it would be a terrible idea.
Katherine: Terrible ideas... don't you just love those?

Self imposed seclusion

Increasing dissatisfaction with my foray into Corporate America has caused me to be quite the unpleasant person lately. I cannot keep my mind on anything but other career possibilities, which are entering my mind at a breakneck speed.

I was born with a horrible gene that causes me to wear most emotions on my sleeve, so when someone dares to ask the normal question of "How are you?" I will inevitably launch into some whiny speech about how miserable I am for nine hours of the day and then list off a few random ideas of what to do about it, most of which that come completely out of the blue for the person listening (or pretending to listen), who has no idea that I want to be a librarian, or move to Europe, or go back to waiting tables, or run off to join the circus.

Then this unlucky but well-meaning soul will probably begin a sentence with "You know what you should do..." or "Why don't you..." which will cause me to practically have an aneurysm holding myself back from going off on them. I don't take kindly to unsolicited advice, and I don't think that this person has a CLUE about what I should do.

So in light of these recent circumstances, I've decided to go into a bit of a self imposed solitary confinement - or at least as much of one as our society will allow. Right now I'm on Day 2, and I have to say that it is going swimmingly! Last night I went to spinning class and then came home and did something that I rarely do - turn off my phone. It was great to just not have to deal with anyone.

Tonight I'll be going to Pilates then coming home, eating a huge bowl of pasta, and watching a movie that I just rented (another thing I rarely do). The phone will be turned off, and nothing else will be in my thoughts.

I'm not sure how long this seclusion will last, since the career problems are not ones that can be solved overnight. But hopefully soon some distraction will take hold and I will be able to at least not let my job bother me so much. I'm sure that soon I will get bored and feel the need for human contact again. But for now, I'm enjoying the hermit life.

Avid, huh?

Click here to find out what our fearless leader is reading this week.

Personally I don't care how trite her choices may be, I'd rather be a part of Oprah's book club ANYDAY.

Here I come

Paris.


We booked our plane flights yesterday. From March 3-12 we will be in Europe. Trip starts out with three days in Paris, then we visit Mouchard for three days, and the onto Geneva until the end.

I've bever been to Europe before, and to say that I can't wait is an understatement.

WARNING TO ALL THOSE WHO PUT UP WITH ME ON A DAILY BASIS: I will inevitably fall completely in love with the culture and come back full of plans to move there.

I also vow to:
Drink a lot of wine
Eat a lot of cheese
Take a lot of pictures

PS - you'll notice that my Amazon wishlist has been updated with a Lonely Planet guide to France. I'm just sayin'...

The things we do, part 1

When I was in high school and college all I ever wanted to do was move to New York City. I was in love with it. The enormity, the possibilities, the rhythyms, the energy... all of those things were intoxicating and drawing me towards the Big Apple.

I started waiting tables in college, knowing that I would need experience doing that to get a job there. I hid behind the guise of a theatre major, saying that I wanted to be an actress or singer, but really that was an excuse I gave myself and others. The truth was that I just wanted to be there, and hadn't given much thought to what would happen after I had accomplished that goal.

So I did it. Packed my bags. Moved to New York without knowing a soul and hit the streets running looking for a job. Blue Fin was everything I could have imagined. Impressively decorated, just like I had always pictured a hip New York restaurant to be. They played cool music and had a huge wine list. The food was expensive and they had just opened to huge hype. Famous people came in regularly and there was always the nerve racking possibility that Bill Grimes, the Times food critic, might pop in that night to either make or break us. I was in heaven.

The rest of the staff was young, hot, and hip. One review said that we all looked like the cast of a WB show. I was excited to be included in that group, and even more excited to have an instant bevy of friends. We all spent time together, going out late after we got off, sharing cabs back to our downtown or bourough haunts, meeting for lunch before our shifts - it was great. I was meeting people just like me from all over the country, people who wanted the taste of something exciting, who were on the cusps of their lives, even if they weren't sure what they wanted those lives to be. We commisurated the agony of pulling doubles, gave each other advice on what to wear on your headshot shoot, studied about wine, and got to know the rest of the relatively small New York restaurant community. We made a TON of money, I started picking up various nuances of city living, like wearing expensive jeans and knowing when it was ok to yell at a cab driver.

Yep, that first year was everything I ever dreamed it would be - pretty damn exciting.

My New Year's Resolutions

I think that Resolutions kinda set you up to fail, so I usually make silly ones:

• To eat sushi once a week (grocery store sushi doesn't count)
• To read more

That's it!

Oh, by the way, I got Giada De Laurentiis's cookbook for Christmas and made the fettuccine alfredo last night - holy shit. It was good. And easy. Everyone should try it.