Exit Stage Left

I'm a bit obsessive compulsive and have an addictive personality. I prefer to think of it as a personality quirk, not a character flaw.

On Tuesday I went to a sales meeting where the presenter showed a group of pie charts depicting the results of a survey of adults who were asked about their media consumption. One of the charts showed that nearly 53% of adults who had to choose between their Internet connection and access to a television would choose to keep their Internet over their TV. I thought this was remarkable, but then I got to thinking and realized that I'd actually respond that way myself.

My Internet habits tend to vary. I go through phases where I rarely log on at home and others when I can't seem to sign off. Currently, I'm stuck in a phase where all I think about is being online. I've been e-mailing everyone I know like mad and I keep coming up with what I think would be great blog topics. I Google whatever topic pops into my head in an attempt to learn more, look up recipes, or read the paper. But, mostly, I blame this current infatuation on the prolific site, My Space, which I can't seem to get away from.

My Space and I began our relationship a couple of years ago. It started out badly. I logged in once (to read something) and then never signed in again. A couple of months ago a random encounter caused me to re-examine our relationship and it didn't take long before I was hooked. It's like crack. You find one long lost friend and then spend hours digging through old yearbooks to see who else might be lurking just beyond the keyboard. I've chatted with friends who I tend to neglect and reconnected with people I haven't talked to in years. It's like my high school reunion all over again every time I log in to check bulletin posts or comments. I almost get butterflies in my stomach thinking about what I might sign on to see. Okay, it's not quite that bad, but I can see myself going there. And quickly. What with a personality like mine, it's all but guaranteed. Please don't encourage me by posting comments on this subject, it will only egg me on.

I am very lucky. I live only about two miles from work. I timed it once and it actually takes me longer to walk to my building and get to my desk than it does to actually drive to work. I am grateful for the brevity of my commute, for sure.

A few blocks from my house is a high school and because of that there are big signs on all the adjacent corners that disallow right turns on red lights during school hours, 7--3, except on weekends and school holidays. I was able to cruise down the block and make a quick right turn without issue for the last three months, but this morning when I approached the corner to make the turn into downtown I was greeted by a line of no less than 15 cars waiting for the light to change to green. Now, this delay was probably, at most, about two minutes, but I still found it frustrating. Even more frustrating: when you find yourself at the front of that line of cars and have to endure the inevitable honking that comes at you when you don't violate the sign and make the illegal turn.

School is definitely back in session and I might even hate the kids going back to school more than they hate it themselves.

I can't believe I've been off work for ten days. In some ways it doesn't seem like it's been that long, in others it seems like it's been a million years. At any rate, I'm ready to go back. I might change my mind when I open my Outlook in the morning. Anyone wanna bet on how many e-mails I received? Nah, I didn't think so.

Contrary to what a lot of people think Denver actually has great weather. We average 300 days of sun per year and unlike the grayish, brownish snow that they get in the Midwest and Northeast, because it sticks around for weeks and months on end our snow is almost always perfectly white, because it melts within 48 hours of hitting the ground. People tend to think that it's always cold here, but that's also not true. The summer's can be brutal, hot, hot, hot. Though, as I've mentioned before, we don't have the humidity that makes summers stifling.

When I returned to Denver from my trip I was greeted by the most wonderful weather: cool and overcast. The high was 72 today and the low tonight is 50! And, it's AUGUST! I love this... just the thought of climbing under my down comforter with the window open and tucking myself into bed makes me happy.

Now, if I could only drag myself away from My Space long enough to get myself to bed...*sigh*

When I was little I used to love movies that featured the bustling filth of New York. Growing up in relatively small towns, I was absolutely enchanted by the concept of a city that big--the very idea absolutely blew me away. When I was older and got hooked on theatre, knowing that New York was the Mecca I knew that I was destined to live there...even though I'd never even visited.

The first time I traveled to the Big Apple I was in college. I traveled on my own, but met up with my friend, Talia, and her mom when I arrived. Talia and I rode the subway to Times Square and I remember I actually cried when I walked up the steps into the middle of it all. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen: fast, crowded, dirty, smelly, humid--all five of my senses were on absolute overload; I loved it. I've visited more than a dozen times since then and every time I love it more and more, I discover new things to love, and it becomes less and less overwhelming.

When I was planning my trip to Spokane for the big reunion I decided that I was going to take off some extra time for work, because....well, because I deserve it. Because I needed a break.

I know myself well enough to know that had I just stayed in Denver and enjoyed five days at home and out of the office the guilt of not being there would've been overwhelming. I would've wound up checking my e-mail every 15 minutes and listening to voicemail obsessively--that's no way to spend a vacation. So, I decided that another short trip was in the cards. I haven't been to New York since New Year's so the destination was an easy decision.

I was planning on leaving Tuesday morning and originally planned to come home on Friday, but after thinking about it, decided that coming home Thursday would be quite sufficient. I got home from Spokane on Monday afternoon and had less than 24 hours to get my shit together and get out of here...again. For some reason I had it in my head that the NY flight left at 11:40 on Tuesday morning. I think I mixed that up with the arrival time, 4:40, but that's neither here nor there at this point, the point is I got to the airport very late and missed the cut-off time to check my bag by one minute. The ticket agent I got was not the friendliest, but at least she got me checked-in quickly and I was on my way to the gate in no time. Of course, Murphy's law set-in and security was backed-up making me even later. When I reached the gate they were already boarding and I barely made it. The ramp agents were much nicer, though, and already had my seat assigned and my boarding pass ready. I got on the plane and off I was.

I spent most of the flight worrying about whether or not my bag would make it to LaGuardia with me, but when we landed in New York my bag was there with me, no problem. *sigh* What a huge relief. Trekking back out to the airport would not have been fun.

I jumped on the bus to Manhattan to meet Tals at the Lincoln Center. After dropping off my bag I wandered to Times Square to see what show I might be able to get into that evening. I settled on "The Drowsy Chaperone" and then settled into my seat mere moments before the lights went out. After the show I met Talia again and we went back to her place.

Wednesday morning we both had a grand plan of getting up and taking in a matinee before Tals had to head to work. I slept later than I'd planned on but still managed to make it to Times Square in time to have the ticket agents at both "The Color Purple" and "Jersey Boys" laugh at my attempt to get a ticket. In the end, after consulting with a co-worker who was also in the city, I ran over to the Imperial Theatre (thanks for the directions, Tals) and bought a ticket to "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" at five minutes to curtain. After I squished my way into my fourth row center seat I nearly fell asleep during the second act. That show is so bloody long, but mostly enjoyable.

As I was walking up 8th Avenue that afternoon, after the show, I literally ran into my co-worker, John, who was in town previewing some shows. It's a trip when, in a city of 8 million + people, you see someone you know randomly on the street. We made plans to check-in with each other later that evening and try to meet up for a drink or something.

After walking back to the August Wilson theatre and again being laughed at for trying to see "Jersey Boys" I settled on seeing "[title of show]" off-Broadway at the Vineyard, the same show John was seeing that evening. I managed to navigate my way to the theatre off Union Square (thanks again, Tals), waited for the box office to open, got my ticket and then realized that it was 6:00 and I had yet to eat anything that day. Dinner was definitely a necessity. I decided that a sandwich from Whole Foods eaten while sitting in Union Square Park was just what I needed.

As I stood in line at Whole Foods (for 20 minutes) I had a lightbulb moment. Perhaps part of the reason that New Yorkers are always going so fast is because once they get where they're going there's inevitably a wait. They have to move quickly to make up for all the waiting: waiting in line, waiting for the bus or subway to arrive, waiting while riding, etc. There's a lot of wasted wait time when you're a New Yorker.

I walked back over to the Vineyard and found my seat. A few minutes later John came in and much to both of our surprise he was seated two seats away. The guy next to me gladly exchanged seats with him and we wound up being able to sit together, which was, again, a bit of a trip. After the show we grabbed a quick drink before venturing back Uptown.

Thursday morning I met Jennifer for breakfast at a quaint little place on the Upper East Side.
I haven't seen Jen in years. My lack of ability to keep in touch with her disgusts me, I've got to get better. (Jen, if you're reading this, please forgive me and let's be better about that). I then went back to Tals' to hang out for awhile before beginning the long journey home. I first had to meet Talia and return her keys then find my way back Uptown to catch the bus back to the airport. As I was riding up to the Bronx on the 6 train I ran into a girl with whom I went to college. I didn't know her that well then, but we were in the same major, so we had classes together. She wasn't my favorite person and she didn't recognize me, but it was, again, very strange to see her. I just think stuff like that is weird. I mean, if she has just gotten on one car behind or in front of me, I never would've seen her. I wonder how many people I know that I've missed by such a small margin?

My return flight was delayed, because of an impending storm, making the inbound flight late. Once we were on board we were stuck taxiing on the runway as "number 34 for take-off" for more than an hour. Once we were airborne they decided there were too many planes in the sky so we were placed in the holding pattern. Then we were finally on our way. Considering all that we were less than an hour late getting into Denver, but then construction on I-70 made my drive home a long one.

Every time I go to New York I fall in-love with it a little more. I'm not sure I'd want to live there forever, but I've got to give it a try. When I turned 25 I gave myself a deadline of getting there by the time I was 30. Since I turned 28 last week the clock is definitely ticking. I still can't quite figure out how to make it happen, but I have faith in something that when the time is right, when it's meant to be, I'll be there. Maybe the waiting is priming me for all the waiting I'll have to do when I'm a New Yorker.

Recently I added a counter to the homepage of this blog. I was curious how many hits I would get on from random readers. I wish I could see where every person came from and for sure who all was checking it out. I don't mind if anyone reads it. I don't post about things I wouldn't want random people to know and besides that, I'm a pretty open-minded out-spoken kind of a girl, so there's not much that's omitted. However, I'm noticing lately that my counter is showing like 25-30 viewings per day (only one or two of those are me) and I'm DYING to know who's checking it out. So, if you're lurking, please leave a comment every now and then. It doesn't bother me at all that you're here, in fact I'm pleased, I'd just like to know who you are!

Coming Soon: complete update on my trip to the Big Apple.

So, as if my four day jaunt/drinking binge in Spokane weren't enough, tomorrow I'm off to New York for a mere 48 hours. I was going to be there for three days, but in the end decided that two would be enough to get in my "fix" of shows (I'm SO behind!). It seems like an awfully long way to travel for that short of a stay, but Pam's out of town and Talia's working a show right now, so I won't be able to see either of them that much, so two days and three shows--maybe a movie for good measure--will be perfect! I'm excited about going, but the flip side is: what the hell was I thinking trying to do two trips back to back? This is insane, not to mention the fact that my poor cats are going to be so lonely. :)

Back to reunion chatter, as promised: I really don't know when the last time I had that much fun was. At the risk of utter, unadulterated embarassment I'll give you, my three readers, a moderately abridged version of the weekend.

I got in on Friday morning about 9:30 where I was greeted with open arms by my dear friend, Monica. I was exhausted from sleeping just two hours that night, but managed to stay up for a couple hours, only after hitting the Zip's drive-thru at 10:30 am for my tartar fix. Damn, I miss that stuff--it's a regular craving. A quick ride on the gondola over the river (which I don't think I've ever done before) and I was tucked-in safely at the hotel for my nap by 1:00 pm.

Friday night was the informal gathering at a bar, Fizzie's, which is located directly across the street from my high school. Weird. But, probably weirder for me than most since I've only been back to Spokane now twice since we graduated ten years ago. Anyway. Everyone was there, including people who didn't sign up for the "official reunion" which was nice. I really enjoyed getting to see everyone, people who I didn't even realize I'd want to see, or thought I'd get to see. It was wonderful. The vodka was flowing freely and thus my two day drinking binge had begun. At around 11, or so (was it 11?) we all left the bar and drove all over the city trying to find a place to do karaoke (no, I wasn't going to sing, folks; there's not enough vodka in Russia to make that happen). That was a major bust so a small group of us wound up at Monica's house playing Yahtzee (no, I wasn't really playing that either) and then outside to swing on the swingset. I do have to say that when you drink a lot of vodka and try to swing sometimes you fall off--it just happens, I guess. I got back to the hotel that night around 2:30--not bad.

Saturday was great from start to finish. After helping the "committee" set-up for the soiree for about an hour Lisa, Monica and I hit the Spa Paradiso at the historic Davenport Hotel for a little r 'n' r before our big event that evening. Lisa and Mo opted for a manicure, while I went in for a pedicure. It was pricey, but the best pedi ever! Once we were all relaxed the three of us headed back to my hotel room to chill some more before dolling up and hitting the town for the evening. The wine and beer were "free while supplies last" which I think was a very successful ploy for getting everyone there at a reasonable hour. We got there, mingled and I can personally attest to how great the wine was. I spent a lot of the evening talking to the same people as the night before, but it was great to have more time to catch up. They closed the shin-dig down at around 11 (way too early in my opinion) so, again, we went searching for karaoke (again, no guys, there's not enough wine in California to make me sing in front of anyone). This time we were more successful and stayed singing for a couple hours (not that I really remember) before the party broke up and a few of us: Tim, Clark and Jeremy wound up back at Jeremy's apartment to play some Texas Hold 'Em. Now, I know how to play poker...it's a lot of fun, but aside from watching "Celebrity Poker Showdown" twice I don't really get the whole Texas Hold 'Em craze. Luckily, because we were playing for money the boys were more than willing to show me the ropes. Turns out that I'm better than any of us bargained for because I kicked their asses and wound up winning. Lucky for them, I'm a nice girl, because I didn't take any of their money; I gave it all back. Damn I regret that already. Apparently I can't get drunk enough to sing, but I can get drunk enough to give up cash--that's really stupid.

Jeremy, Clark and I wound up watching a couple movies (though I know I passed out pretty quickly). At about 5:00 I think Jeremy got tired of us (who can blame him?) and kicked us out. He was so nice and drove me back to the hotel. When I got there I realized that I'd lost my key and had to talk to the guy at the front desk to get a replacement. I know I had to look like hell and it was 5:15 in the morning, but that was maybe the most embarassing part. "Oh, hi! I'm just getting in for the night and am clearly still drunk and need a replacement key." It was like the worst walk of shame in history--not that I'd really know about that. ;)

Sunday "morning" I woke up to try to make it to the "family picnic" at the prodding of Lisa and Mo and in retrospect I was still drunk, I'm sure. I chalked it up to a hangover and managed to get myself up and moving. I made it to the picnic, drank a ton of water and ate and felt a lot better. The rough part of this: somehow the night before I not only lost my room key, but also lost my sunglasses. The picnic was in a park. On an August afternoon. I drank a lot the night before. 'Nough said.

The picnic was fine, but poorly attended. It was mostly an opportunity for people to show off their children. It's just weird to see people you went to high school with ten years later as parents. Like it seems wrong in some way. Maybe that's because I'm a million years away from the whole family and kids thing, I don't know, but it was odd. Anyway... Mo and I went back to her place and I fell asleep on the couch for an hour or so (which was good), we went to dinner and then met-up with Lisa and Eric for some mini-golf (I got my ass kicked at that, sadly), then ice cream. It was a great way to end the weekend.

So, that's the play by play. My sincere apologies at the length of this post. I really thought I could get it out in less words, but once I started typing I just really couldn't figure out how to abbreviate. I'm sure it's quite boring for "all you readers" out there (all three of you), but this is a good way for me to preserve the moment, too.

I know everyone's probably tired of hearing it, but I really can't put into words how much fun it is to reconnect with people after such a long time. Perhaps it's because I moved so much as a kid and have never had "life-long" friends, but it's so great to see where everyone wound up and how they're doing. As I said to some friends last night, "I can't wait for the 20 year!" Gosh that's a frightening thought.

Forgive me for the delay in posting, but I've been in Spokane at my 10 year class reunion since Friday. I leave for home in the morning and will write a proper post in the days to come (no I'm not full of idle threats, I really will post properly), but sufficed to say for now: I've had an absolutely fantastic time and have hopefully reconnected for the long-term with some people I've been looking for for quite some time. More details to come...

I'm weird in that I actually enjoy meetings. Sometimes I don't enjoy all the extra work that comes from them, but the meeting itself I enjoy. However, as I sit here stalling because I don't want to go to sleep, because I just got home less than an hour ago and want to feel like I'm having some time off, of some sort, I have to wonder: who in the hell had the "bright" idea (no pun intended) to begin a meeting at 7:30 in the morning?! That's SO early... and yet, I have one...tomorrow.

I should so be sleeping.

Have had an out-of-town guest this weekend and no time to post! I will give a proper update/post tomorrow night--hopefully!

But, for now, the good news is that they've lifted the ban on lip balm on Domestic flights as long as it's a solid. I will now be able to travel comfortably to the Inland Empire of the Pacific Northwest this weekend to my reunion. PHEW!

What's the matter with kids today? Seriously. I went to see a movie tonight with Mike y Mary. We went to see "World Trade Center," which wasn't nearly as exploitative as I thought it would be, but it was rather boring. Don't really have a desire to post on the movie itself---so, I won't. What I do want to post about is the fact that some dumbass (might have been two of 'em, I don't know, it was dark) brought a small child to this movie. I'm talking like a two year old. Let alone the fact that this movie is totally inappropriate for a child to watch, let's talk about the fact that if your kid is going to fucking yell, or talk through the entire movie DON'T BRING THEM WITH YOU. If you can't fucking afford child care then perhaps you shouldn't be spending ten bucks on a movie anyway. I was quite pissed by this behavior, but not nearly as pissed as Mary, who's "shhhhhh's" would invariably make me chortle or snicker while trying not to, myself, disturb the other patron's more than they already were.

In the words of JoJo, "unac'eptable"; I should've demanded a refund.


p.s. I just ran spell check on this post and "fucking" is not in the dictionary; what the fuck is up with that?!

Okay, so I realize that this whole thwarted terror attack is a big deal and I completely respect the Brits for having foiled the "bad guys." I certainly don't want any innocent people to get hurt because of a few fanatical thinking crazies, but seriously folks this whole "no liquid on planes" thing, it's bogus and reactionary.

Earlier today I was reading an AP story on a website, I'm not sure which one. There was a terrorism expert quoted as saying something to the effect of "I've been warning U.S. officials of the danger of liquid explosives for more than ten years." Ten years? Ten YEARS? Seriously? And, just today they decide that liquids have to be banned? Whatever. That in and of itself is disturbing to me; I mean, seriously, could the United States BE a little more reactionary? God forbid we think things through or come up with proactive solutions or plans to deal with potential problems.

Another thing about this whole thing that's really bothering me is the non-stop news coverage of this event. I realize that this is big news, and I realize that and I'm a news-whore so I "enjoy" it to some extent, but seriously folks: the American media is trying to absolutely freak us out. I'm being reminded of several different scenes for Bowling for Columbine here. Americans are "better" when they are scared...or so we're led to believe.

Also, it appears to me that our "fearless" Commander-In-Chief would have us all believe that he played an integral role in "thwarting" this attack. HE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT! He was just briefed by Prime Minister Blair over the weekend and had no idea this was even going on. Additionally, the man is seriously lacking in public speaking skills, he stumbles over words and has a hard time enunciating properly, let along pronouncing many words. Watching him speak after stepping down the stairs of Air Force One and addressing the press corp on the tarmac today reminded me of a quote from another movie, "We have had Presidents who have been beloved who couldn't find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight..." (Do you see why I love Aaron Sorkin?); I'm certainly not saying that he's "beloved" but I think that sentiment fits here.

I've been watching cable news for the last two and a half hours and just switched over to network news about ten minutes ago. When I turned on "Primetime Live" the title of tonight's show is "Target: America." Really? Target: America? Is that really the best definition for a plan that was planned to take place in Great Britain, where more than 20 British citizens were arrested in connection with this incident? True the flights were destined for the United States, which means that the flights would no doubt contain American citizens, but is it not possible that those same flights would be carrying French or German passengers, Japanese or Indonesian passengers, Israeli's or Lebanese citizens? London's Heathrow airport is the busiest in the world, it's a major hub for numerous international air carriers, seems to me that this planned attack should be categorized more like "Target: Innocent People", but perhaps that's just me.

The bottom line: Yes, flying without my lip balm, contact solution and lotion is going to suck, not to mention the fact that I can't have a bottle of water, but no, I'm not scared to fly, I refuse to let these crazy-fanatical-dumbass-cowards control my life. I'd encourage you to do the same, and I pose to you this question: who really are the crazy-fanatical-dumbass-cowards, and do the U.S. government and American corporate media fall into that category?

One of my greatest obsessions, one of THE greatest obsessions of all time, is my love for Aaron Sorkin, specifically his acclaimed television series "The West Wing." I was hooked early on, recording every episode for playback later (yeah, I actually watched them and I still own them)--it was a happy day for me when they decided to put that series on DVD; preserved for all-time.

Aside from my love of "The West Wing" my favorite movie of all-time is Mr. Sorkin's The American President. Cheesy, yes, but endearing, smart and witty---triple yes! I love it. There was a point in my life where I'd actually sit and watch that movie once a week. To this day it lifts my spirit and makes me smile, regardless of my mood at the time.

And, while it may seem on the surface that I just like politically-minded material, which is true, I'm also a huge fan of Mr. Sorkin's first television series "Sports Night"--in my opinion one of the best written, funniest, most charming and under-appreciated sitcoms in the history of television. I own the entire series on DVD and watch all three seasons with some regularity.

Okay, so I'm a bit obsessed with Aaron Sorkin, it's true. Which is why I have been so excited for his latest series, "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" to make its premiere this fall on NBC. In what I have determined to be one of the smartest marketing moves ever, NBC put two of its fall shows pilots on DVD, including "Studio 60..." and made them available to Netflix customers. I eagerly moved this DVD to the top of my queue and carefully planned my disc return to coincide with the public availability of this disc. Last night I finally was able to settle in and watch this one-hour pilot and OH MY GAWD! This show is going to rock! It has a, for the most part, stellar cast; there are a couple people I could do without, but I don't expect them to stick around for long (Moira Kelly lasted about four episodes on "The West Wing" before they realized the general public--including me--despised her). The content of "Studio 60..." is thought-provoking and even a bit edgy; it makes you think and I think this show will be one of the few bonafide hits of the Fall TV season.

I have a cat who loves to chew. He chews on ribbon, sheets, blankets, sweaters, t-shirts and towels; he chews on anything and everything including my jeans, notwithstanding that I love him and am, for the most part, willing to tolerate his behavior.

I consider myself to be your average everyday jeans and t-shirt girl. I am most happy in a pair of well-worn jeans, a comfy t-shirt and a pair of Birkenstocks. Because I have a cat who has a propensity to chew and because I prefer to have my clothes on shelves, so I can see what I have, rather than having them in drawers where they're hidden, I have resigned myself to the fact that I'll have to replace certain items ocassionally. Not too long ago, Linus (the cat) decided to chew through a stack of jeans that were on the bottom shelf. It wasn't my whole collection, but it did include two of my favorite pairs. Because of that, and because I've now dropped enough weight that some of my clothes are bit baggy I have been on the hunt for a new pair of jeans. I don't want to put a lot of money into new clothes, but I decided one pair of jeans was warranted.

I've been searching for a long time for the perfect new pair of jeans. My favorite are the Gap Loose Fit, button-fly jeans, but when the Gap got all hoity-toity they stopped making that cut, I've yet to find something to replace them. I have settled several times for cheap Old Navy jeans, which, I decided, in this instance will suit me just fine, because they're cheap and because I hope that soon they too will be baggy.

I wore my new jeans today and I have to ask the question: is there anything better than wearing a brand new pair of jeans? I mean, seriously, they're not stretched out or faded, they fit they way they were intended. They're comfortable and classic. They make you feel good about yourself. I mean, truly, isn't a new pair of jeans better than being in-love? Okay, maybe not that good, but it's a close second.

My political leanings are not a secret, though while I'd like to think I'm a bleeding heart liberal I know that in reality I fall more towards the middle--more than I'll usually admit even. My parents are both on the conservative side, though my mom's affections have changed particularly in the last, oh about six years (wonder why?). I knew I was a Democrat in 5th grade. It was the '88 election: Dukakis vs. Bush Sr. There were two people in my class who were pulling for Mikey: me and Sean McGinty, on whom I had a giant crush... that's when I decided and it's stuck with me ever since. Okay, okay...when I got older and more interested in the issues I actually made the conscious choice to register a party affiliation and that I most often identified with the Democrats views. I've also been a political junkie every since. I follow politicians and issues I watch the Sunday morning talk shows and I LIVE for election years. I actually begged my Father to let me stay home in January 1993 (I was 14) to watch Bill Clinton's first innauguration (that's a good story; ask me if you're interested).

I can't quite put my finger on the exact moment that I knew I was "in-love" with Al Gore, but I remember thinking he was the best thing since sliced bread during the 1992 election...and I was 13 that summer. And, I'm not sure why he had such an effect on me, but I've adored him ever since. I think he is intelligent, stoic, diplomatic and a good representative for the people. I also believe that his intentions are good; that he makes decisions because he believes they are the right thing to do. I would happily cast a vote for him for most any political office for which I could do so. After the 2000 election I was crushed; I took Mr. Gore's loss very personally, I even cried over it, but I know of several other people who did, too, so I suppose that's neither here nor there. I don't expect other people to understand my fascination with Al Gore, or really my obsession with politics at all; afterall, it's rather indescribeable. I also don't expect people to share my opinions, but I do ask that I be allowed to have them and allowed to express them.

Al Gore was in Denver today signing copies of "An Inconvenient Truth" at the Tattered Cover in Lodo. I've been planning on going all week and this morning when I woke up I actually thought about skipping it. Standing in line for hours with hundreds of other people wasn't appealing to me, but I knew if I didn't go I'd be mad at myself, possibly forever.

I got there, bought my books and got in the line to get a "ticket" to the signing. The ticket I was assigned made me numbner 342 in line---and there were a lot of people behind me. I then waited for another approximately two and a half hours before I was finally at the front of this seemingly neverending line and Al Gore--a man I've absolutely idolized for half my life--was right there! Now, I'm the kind of person who cries more when they're happy or excited than they do when they're sad or scared. I could feel myself beginning to choke up a bit as I inched closer and closer to our former Vice President. But, I also knew that if I started crying I would be forever embarassed, that I would never forgive myself.

As I was waiting in line we were informed about what would and would not be permitted during the book signing: Mr. Gore will only sign copies of "An Inconvenient Truth" and will not sign any other memorabilia, including ticket stubs, other books, or campaign materials and he will not personalize books. I figured with hundreds of people there and with them being as Nazi-like as they were, we'd get about two seconds to savor the moment when we actually reached him. I was shocked, therefore, to see that Al Gore actually put down his Sharpie and shook the hand of every single person who passed in front of him...including me and, yes, I'm still surprised that I didn't faint. I had an opportunity to say anything I wanted to him and my mind went completely blank, I couldn't think of a thing. What I really wanted to do was to get down on my knees and beg him to run again in '08, but all that would come out is "thank you, thank you so much." What he probably didn't realize is that I wasn't just thanking him for signing my book, but for influencing my life in so many other ways.

This has been a weird week. A lot of family stuff going on:

Gramma went home from the hospital and then was sent to rehab about 24 hours later. She's lost 45 pounds in seven weeks; 15 of those were in the last week alone...while she was in the hospital. But, of course, they can't really find anything wrong with her, which is frustrating. She's old, but she doesn't deserve to be in pain and she deserves medical care where they'll try to find out what's wrong. The protective "mama bear" side of me is about to rear it's ugly head.

Mark is doing much better; thanks to everyone who asked. Sounds like blowing those clots was actually a good thing and he's started healing much better since then.

Mom is in town for about a week and is staying with me, which I love, but does change my schedule and makes me think more about what I'm doing... I have to plan more, which is not a bad thing, it's just different from what I'm used to.

There's also the minor topic of a sibling of mine, who is quite difficult. I don't really feel like I can get into it on my blog, but it's adding pressure to the already stressed family dynamic.

Work has also been weird this week. I nearly burst into tears during a conference call on Wednesday, which, quite frankly, is very unlike me. I've got to pull it together and get shit done.

On the positive side: I'm really looking forward to the next few weeks. I have mom here until Tuesday, then on Saturday my friend, Angela will be visiting for a few days. Then, two short days later I begin a ten day vacation. I've NEVER taken that much time off from a job before and while it's a little scary I also think it's much needed. Once I return from four days in beautiful Spokane for my reunion I'm hoping to jet off to New York for a couple of days of intense show-watching.

I'm sorry this post is so scattered, but I felt it important to update, since I haven't in a few days. Hopefully they'll get better in the days to come.

There's a great line in the play The Clean House where Lane, the power-doctor, says to her Brazilian maid, Mathilde, "How old are you?"

Mathilde responds "young enough to know I still have good skin, but old enough to wonder if I still have good skin."

"You're 27." Lane says.

I appreciated that line back in March when I saw the play but have come to appreciate it much, much more in the last few weeks.

I have always been blessed with good skin, and I do realize how lucky I am. That's not to say, of course, that I haven't given my skin the T.L.C. it deserves. In fact, I can't think of a single night that's gone by in the past 15 years where I've gone to bed without the proper skin care regimen; that's just how I roll.

In the past few weeks, however, the wrinkles around my eyes have gotten really bad. The bags beneath my eyes have puffed up and they now resemble a shar pei puppy. There are rough dry patches in the wrinkles where makeup collects and where moisturizer must be carefully applied to be effective. Add to all of that a dry climate and I feel like the skin around my eyes looks something like a wrinkled bed sheet wadded up at the end of the bed on a hot summer night. I'm beginning to understand why women spend small fortunes on skin care products and why they might be compelled to have a face lift (though, I once saw one on TLC's "The Operation" and I swore I could never put myself through that).

If this is what 27 is like, I have to wonder---what will be my fear at 28?