Commuter's Whine

I had one of those mornings today that only seems funny when it happens to someone else.

First I sat in traffic on 270 and the Beltway for an hour and a half on my commute to work. Anyone familiar with this area will say, "So what?" because it's more noteworthy when you don't sit in traffic for at least an hour.

But, stay with me. I'm just setting the stage - trying to make you understand the headache I had when I finally arrived at work.

I don't eat breakfast at home - I take it with me - mostly because there is free Starbucks at work and I really would much rather have my coffee with my breakfast. Also, I get to work at 10am to beat the traffic (it usually works better than today).

So I arrived at work after 11am, starving, aggravated, and suffering from caffeine withdrawal (oh, right, for any of you who remember my swearing off coffee - Joe's back with a vengeance - as soon as my stomach problems were under control I was back on the java.)

Of course, when I went to get the coffee I only was able to squeeze out a quarter cup before getting that insulting noise of an empty airpot - like a big mechanical raspberry - that I always take personally. I dutifully refilled the pot - after threatening 2 other employees with bodily injury for getting between me and the coffee filters - and walked back to my desk.

Five minutes later I returned to the kitchen to get the fresh coffee and I see one of the network guys on his hands and knees, mopping up the floor - which is covered with coffee!

"It wasn't me!" he announced before asking for more paper towels.

"I think it may have been me. But I swear I only pushed the button on the coffee machine once!"

I racked my brain trying to think what I could possibly have done to cause such a mess, but couldn't come up with anything. I helped him clean up, wondering all the while if it would be bad form to see if any coffee was left in the pot first, or make more, or maybe lick the floor while I was sopping up the coffee. (Yes...yes, it would have been bad form - so I didn't.)

Finally most of the evidence of my mishap was safely hidden in the trash and I could move on to more important things - like pumping my bloodstream full of shade grown, free trade, chemicals.

I moved the pot and was surprised it was almost empty. Since I couldn't figure out what my mistake was I had assumed that the machine malfunctioned and just kept brewing coffee until Network Guy shut it off.

But if it was empty that would mean the pot must be leaking?

So I picked it up over my head to look at the bottom - and was promptly showered with the last dregs of coffee in the pot - right out of the spout. Yes - it was that kind of morning.

Apparently the doohickey that goes into the airpot and is responsible for sucking up the coffee and spitting it out into my cup was a little overzealous. It had taken matters into it's own hands and as the coffee went out into the pot, syphoned it right back out again directly onto the floor.

That must be why most people take this part of the coffee pot out before they brew the coffee. Live and learn.

I paid my hush money to Network Guy and Receptionist Lady, who he had called over to ask about taking a mop to the sticky floor, and headed back to my desk with my cup of coffee... very very carefully.

I Survived a Multi-Generational Car Trip from New Jersey, and All You Got Was This Lousy Blog Post

We did go away this past weekend after all. The vegetables survived (although the strawberries had clearly been partying) and so did I. Barely.

We went to the Jersey Shore - land of my birth - for a family party, and here are some tips that I want to pass on to you that I learned during our time away from home:

1. If you are the type of person who would welcome the opportunity to perform brain surgery on yourself while wearing a suit of live bees - just to avoid traveling, then agonizing over whether to go until 2 hours after you should have left is not the best way to alleviate your anxiety.
2. If your father says he isn't coming up from Florida to go to your niece's college graduation party, assume that he will surprise you by being there.
3. Also, if you have not cleaned your house in [insert length of time here that you feel is appropriately disgusting - I'm not telling how long it really is] days/weeks, assume that said spontaneous Dad will be driving back home with you for an undisclosed amount of time. (I love you Dad!)
4. If you have a blog and you tell your family about it, they will read it. But not all of them will have read it recently. So when they are all together in one place, you will have the constant nagging suspicion that you are either quoting yourself or leaving out important details as you fill them in on your recent exploits.
5. Beer Pong is an exciting and educational activity that you learn in college.
6. Puppies, no matter how cute, soft, and loveable they are to adults, are terrifying to people who are the same size as them. (KosherCop and his cousin Lucky both became completely unhinged when the new golden retriever puppy was around.)
7. If said puppy-owners are empty-nesters the puppy will be referred to as the "baby". Babyproofing will ensue. For example, the dangerous rocks in the rock collection will be locked up somewhere that the puppy can't access them, despite your own baby having been allowed to juggle the asbestos and radioactive moonrocks. (That's an exaggeration - Uncle P. would never allow my son to juggle with the rocks in his collection - you can only sniff the asbestos, never touch it.)
8. If you aren't sure how to get your guests to leave when the party is over, hire a hysterically howling 4 year old who has just bloodied both knees during an unfortunate round of freeze tag.
   
9. Just because said 4 year is hysterical, doesn't mean he is being melodramatic. Even if he requests "a thousand band-aids" for his knee.
10. If your child has finally started to calm down, count on 5-7 caring and supportive family members to try to console him with survival tales of their own childhood traumas, only to start him crying again when they get to the part about how there was blood. Expect them not to catch on to why he isn't actually calming down until you finally point it out.
11. If your child has never lived in an apartment and you spend the night in one, expect a visit from the downstairs neighbors at some point. They will not be there to welcome you to the building.
12. When driving home with four people in a car ranging from 4 to 86, you will be legally obligated to stop at 11 out of 12 rest stops. You will be overjoyed since you only had to request 5 of them - despite needing all 11.
    
13. If your family reads your blog, they are going to see that you are making fun of them!
    

Love you guys! We had a great time seeing everyone!

My Handbag, My Self

A few months ago I got the idea into my head that I HAD to have a new purse. I spent about a week of lunch breaks at work scouring the web for the perfect vintage-inspired, cabbage rose-covered, summer bag.

One Sunday I even tried to sell KosherCop on the idea of a trip to the mall as the excursion of a lifetime.

"How about we go to the mall? I can look for a new purse and then you can ride the train. I really need to get a new purse."

"You should get a new purse, Mommy. You deserve a new purse. Your purse is shabby."

"Great! Let's go!"

"No. I don't want to," said KosherCop, looking at my shoes. "You should get some new shoes too. Your shoes are very shabby." I couldn't argue with that. My shoes were very shabby, and not in the good way that is followed by "chic". But, it didn't matter. This kid was not going to the mall.

Eventually, like all of my pointless obsessions, I stopped thinking about a new purse and went on with my life.

Then, suddenly, in a dusty corner of the lowest of the lowly shoe stores on the planet - a place where whole herds of "manmade-materials" gave their lives to become strappy pleather sandals - I found the handbag I wanted.

The weird thing is that it was not even remotely the handbag I had been looking for. It is not shabby-chic floral - it's bold with beachy stripes and a slightly retro mod floral pattern. The most surprising thing is that it's a slouchy unstructured affair that doesn't close all the way. My wallet could fall out at any moment and I bought it anyway.

Now I am not slouchy and unstructured. Yes, my shoes may be shabby, but personality-wise I'm pretty much a control-freak. A demanding borderline obsessive-compulsive control-freak. And not one of those Type A control-freaks that is hugely productive and ambitious. If my personality has a type it is probably somewhere around J - I require a lot of downtime. I'm just really particular about that downtime. And my purse.

For the last 10 years I have demanded the same exacting standards from my personal possessions as the people around me.

Seriously. My bag had to have a zippered center compartment for security, yet easily accessible outer pockets to be able to grab metro cards or Datawatch cards at a moment's notice. The material had to be lightweight microfiber or nice leather, but smaller. And it had to fit my planner. Which is, of course, the problem. I devoted almost as much time and attention to finding the right planner/organizer and with each incarnation it grew bigger.

Eventually I was saddled with an overstuffed satchel as my purse and a ridiculously huge organizer totebag - one of the ones that actually hardly fits anything because of the pockets - just to transport my planner. If it wasn't for Shabbat, when I could take advantage of the no carrying prohibition, I'd probably have moved a chiropractor into the house by now.

So when I saw my low-rent bucket bag, it was like a cool ocean breeze blowing a 20 lb. load off my shoulders. And this is not the first time what I was looking for was not what I actually wanted when faced with a choice.

When KosherCook and I became engaged I had us spend 8 months looking for a vintage 1920's estate diamond. They always looked better in the case than on my hand. Then as we were shopping for our wedding rings, I tried on a simple, elegant platinum solitaire - only because it was part of a set - and said, "Ooh!" KosherCook sneaked back later, bought it, and gave it to me under the Chuppah.

KosherCook has since elevated this tale to the level of allegory. The simple utterance of "Ooh" from his overly particular wife has become the barometer by which he judges the worthiness of all major purchases. I have Oohed us into the purchase of our couch, our car, and eventually our house over the years.

And somewhere along the way I have internalized this method for minor purchases, also. My slouchy bag and I have been very happy together over the last few weeks. My shoulder doesn't hurt as much and I no longer look like a pack horse walking in from the parking garage at work. When I carry it I feel light and relaxed. I can leave the house and when that niggling voice asks if I really locked the door behind me, sometimes I don't even get back out of the car to check.

Auntie Meme

It's so exciting - I've been tagged by The Babka Nosher for a meme of 7.

It took me a while to figure out what this was exactly and I'm still not entirely clear if it matters what I list. But best I can figure out I'm supposed to list 7 interesting things about myself.

So here goes:

1. When I was in college I had a subscription to "Road & Track" magazine. I also wanted to be an Industrial Designer so I could design cars. This lasted until second semester of freshman year when I had to take drafting - no computers - all by hand. I had just about enough patience to make it through the class with a C and change my major.
2. I have an unnatural fascination with people addicted to drugs and alcohol. One of my favorite tv shows is Intervention and I google Amy Winehouse news every day to make sure she is still alive.
3. I'll also watch almost any kind of reality television that ends in a makeover - clothes, restaurants, weight loss, etc. There must be some sort of universal fascination with transformation 'cause I know I ain't the only one watching.
4. When I was growing up my favorite color was yellow. Bright yellow. With a tinge of orange if possible, please. Now that I'm a designer I don't have a favorite color - only favorite color palettes. But I still can't stand bubble gum/pepto bismal pink.
5. The first time I went skiing I went by myself. My friend who was supposed to go with me on our non-refundable trip had to cancel. Since she was my ride, I rented a car and went anyway. It was a huge adventure from the black ice on the 8 hour drive to Vermont to the heart attack I almost gave the ski instructor when I jumped off the ski lift too late. I had almost no one to talk to for 3 days, but I came home with a great story.
6. When I was a little girl, I used to get terribly homesick at sleepovers. I never ever fell asleep, always wanted to go home, and eventually started faking getting stomach aches to avoid having to go in the first place.
7. I was an aunt by the time I was ten years old. Having much older siblings was my claim to fame throughout grade school.

Okay. Now I'm going to tag Ali, Philippa, Gena, ShabbyInTheCity, Cathy, Rumpole, and ViviLulu.