Barb’s Burblings

Most nights after I climb into bed, Colin jumps up so we can play an exciting game of Pounce on the Hand Moving Around Under the Covers. Generally, Pem follows at some point, then just watches as Colin frantically runs around the bed, trying to get my hand, which is sneakily hiding under the covers. At some point, he gets tired and plops down between my calves and goes to sleep. Pem generally winds up near my head.

(Which led me the other night to start wondering if that’s where the term “catty corner” or “cat a corner” or whatever the heck that expression is comes from, because they frequently wind up diagonally across from each other on the bed. I’d look it up, but I’m lazy.)

Last night, though, during the exciting hand-pouncing game, Pem decided to take the coveted spot by my legs. A bold move on her part. And the thing is, Colin totally didn’t fight her for it! Once he finished playing, he went over to my legs, found Pem there, and retreated to the other side of the bed.

I was convinced that there was a profound shift in the balance of power between the cats. This lasted about 5 minutes, until Pem got up and ceded the spot back to Colin.

Growing up, we always called our parents’ friends by their last names–Mr. and Mrs. Whoever. A few years ago, the wife of my dad’s best friend passed away. In a couple of months, my dad and I are going to go to an O’s game with his best friend and the best friend’s new lady friend. And I just realized that it’s going to be strange–not only meeting her, but…what do I call her?

The best friend will always be Mr. Best Friend to me. There’s no way I could call him by his first name. I can’t change after 31 years of calling him Mr. Best Friend. But I’m an adult now, and generally, when meeting other adults–even adults my parents’ age–I call them by their first names. I guess once you go to work and start having coworkers whose ages run the gamut, you kind of get out of the habit of the formal “Mister” or “Missus” or “Miss” or “Ms”. (Yes, obviously, there are times when I do still use “Mister” or whatever. Hmm, and I guess if I were to meet the parents of a future beau, I’d probably use “Mister” and “Missus” in that situation, too. But for the most part, it’s first names.) (I mean, really, a lot of my coworkers are near my parents’ age. Ditto people in my tap class.)

But I can’t imagine being able to call Best Friend’s Girlfriend by her first name. So I think I’m going to do what one does in this situation…just never address her directly as anything. Make eye contact when talking so I never have to figure out whether it’s “Girl” or “Miss Friend.”

I was excited when I read that Crumbs, a New York-based cupcake shop, was going to be opening up some shops in the DC area. After all, you can never have too many cupcakes! But after reading the article in today’s WaPo about it, my enthusiasm has lessened, thanks to these quotes from co-founder Jason Bauer:

“When we come into the market, people are going to realize what a real cupcake is all about,” boasted Bauer, 40, who opened the first Crumbs on New York City’s Upper West Side with his wife, Mia, in 2003.

“We came down to that market four months ago and did a complete tour and hit every cupcake place,” Bauer said. “Quite honestly, we weren’t impressed with anybody’s product.”

Dude. Not cool. I certainly haven’t hit every cupcake place around here (though I dream of it), and though I don’t like all the ones I have hit, there certainly are some really good shops here–I’m particularly fond of Red Velvet, Fancy Cakes by Leslie (though I wish they’d go back having more varities of cupcake–not “decorate your own cupcake”), and Georgetown Cupcake. And so even though it looks like there’s going to be a Crumbs in an area of downtown that I frequent–as well as one in Rockville–I’m less inclined to check it out than I would be if Jason had just been like, “DC has shown that it loves cupcakes, and we’re eager to compete!” or something similarly inoffensive.

I love advice columns. Love reading them, love reading the comments people make about them. One of my favorites is Carolyn Hax, who writes for the Washington Post. She has new columns three times a week, and does a lengthy weekly chat, which is always enjoyable. She uses the four days a week without a totally new column to expand on questions from the chat–like in today’s column.

Ah yes, advice for the singletons. (Well, one very bitter singleton. Who’s only 4 years older than me! When I did I get so old???) And I agree with Carolyn’s advice here. And then comes this:

If talking up strangers feels forced, then find communal activities that suit your strengths, and start joining. Not only does it beat dwelling on what hasn’t worked — your ex, online socializing, men, your friends, the married guy — but it also pretty well defines “connecting the old-fashioned way.” And, it has the advantage of being the recipe for a life well-lived vs. a plan for getting a man.

And, from the comments:

Carolyn’s advice about a well-lived life is great. A hobby or volunteer work you are passionate about will make you happier and more fulfilled, and you might also find a like-minded man.

And just when I gave up on dating and said… I think I will just live life and see what comes my way…. I met my current husband. I went way out of my way to pick a language partner that was NOT interested in romance and was not attractive (at least according to their photo). And yet… we clicked.

Stop “looking for” a mate. Just do the things you like to do, and let things happen as they will. I met my husband at a theater audition - wasn’t looking for a husband, wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, wasn’t even looking to get laid. We met, we conversed, we spent time together, we learned about each other, we found ourselves connecting on more and more levels. Love happened.

ARGH.

It’s frustrating to reach a point in your life and try to figure out how you wound up there. How do I find a guy to fall in love with? Online dating? Done it, off and on, for years. Activities? Volunteer? Maybe I’m just doing the wrong volunteering or taking the wrong classes.

I do a lot with my life, and I am happy with it. I choose things to do based on whether I think I’ll enjoy them–and I do. But please, please stop telling me that the way to meet a guy is by doing what I love. Doing what I love has led to me doing some fun things, and meeting a lot of great people…which I appreciate, which has made my life a good one. But it hasn’t led to a husband.

And honestly, if I die single, it’s not the end of the world. I have a lot of great friends and family and feel like I’m making a positive (if fairly minor) impact on the world. But having a boyfriend, at least, would be nice.

Admittedly, there was also some interesting stuff in the comments, too–and stuff that I felt relate to my own situation. (And, trust me, I’ve spent plenty of time psychoanalyzing myself about this.) But these cliches drive me up a fricking wall.

Seriously, don’t get me started on “Stop looking–that’s when you’ll find The One!” Right. It’s not like I spend every moment of every day looking for a husband, but you get to a point where, if you meet a guy, you check for a ring, you listen for whether he mentions a girlfriend. It’s not because you went out that day On a Search For a Man, but it really becomes second nature. Even having spent the past couple of years not really thinking about guys (except David Tennant), I’d still notice whether a nice guy I was talking to was single or not.

And for the record? David Tennant isn’t single. Sigh.

I love the Winter Olympics. LOVE them. WAY more than the Summer Olympics. Track and field, cycling…eh. Doesn’t hold my interest that much. But the Winter Olympics? Holy crap. I could watch ANY event. Ice dance compulsories? Fascinating! Curling? What’s NOT intriguing about curling?! Hockey? Luge? Snowboarding? Biathalon? Sign me up! I could watch the full two weeks straight! Olympic fever? I have it!

Which makes me so sad that these piles of snow being heaped on the DC area are coming this week. Why couldn’t it have waited until next week? I could be spending all of these hours watching the Olympics! It’s just not fair!

I lived in Connecticut during the winter of ‘93-’94. Now, the thing to understand about where I lived in Connecticut is that the town was pretty spread out, very hilly, and the roads were all very twisty and turny. And protected by trees. What I’m saying is that it took a bit for roads to be passable after snow, even with decent snow-removal budgets.

You also need to know that in Connecticut, we got a vacation in February and April.

Now, the winter of ‘93-’94 was not a good one. Not only did we get snow fairly regularly, it frequently came with ice. It was the winter of the ice storm, and we got snow day after snow day. I want to say that total, we had something like 12 snow days.

It was the one time of my life that I remember my mother coming into my room, telling me I had a snow day, and being pissed off about it. Because only 5 days were scheduled into the school year. So each snow day after that was one taken out of the April break. When that was gone, days were added onto the end of the year. SO not cool.

(And pointless, because a lot of people already had reservations for April, which meant that school was practically pointless for those of us left.)

The last day of school that year wound up being something like June 21. The next week, my family moved to Montana. (Which, of course, does not get snow days. But then, the roads there are largely FLAT and STRAIGHT.) I started school there and had to listen to people complaining how short their summers were.

Their last day of school the previous school year? June 6 or so. Yeah.

Anyway, there is something exciting about a large snowfall. The problem here is that we had that in December. Less than 2 months ago. Two huge snowfalls in such a short period of time? Less fun. Of course, at least I don’t have to worry about losing vacation should we have to take a snow day from work. So, there is an upside to being a grownup. (The downside, of course, is that I don’t have a summer vacation from which to take the snow days.)

Unlike the last time–a mere month and a half ago–that I was trapped in my apartment for days by a snowstorm, I don’t have a huge project to work on. So, naturally, I’ve been mentally going through projects to work on for the next couple of days.

1. Work. I have some page proofs to finish reviewing and a catalog to update.
2. Vacuum. The apartment is pretty gross (except the bathroom, which I cleaned recently).
3. Clean the litter boxes. I made a special trip to PetSmart for litter last night. It will be used this weekend. That trip cannot have been in vain.
4. Update my filing. I need to clean out the past couple years’ worth of bills, etc., sitting in my filing cabinet. Totally forgot to do it last year.
5. Catch up on at least one of the two shows sitting on my DVR. I have something like 10 episodes of both The Mentalist and Flash Forward just taking up precious storage space.
6. Make it to Level 8 on New Super Mario Bros. I can do this. I can.
7. Label the pictures on my computer.
8. Sleep a lot. Yay!

I just hope I don’t lose electricity for long. Of course, I do have a large stack of books that need to be read…

Because I’m still chilly, some 2.5 hours after coming inside and despite adding layers, I’ve decided to distract myself by thinking of baseball. It’s almost February, which means that it’s almost time for pitchers and catchers to report! Spring training, yay! Not that I’m going this year, unfortunately. But still, baseball makes me happy. Now I’m just going to pretend that it’s July, and I’m sitting at Camden Yards, and it’s hot…

Also, happiness that O’s FanFest was last weekend, and thus the return of the “Barb in the O’s dugout” series:

I meant to take the bus this morning. I had already driven to work three times this week (though I only had to pay twice, since yesterday I went downtown after work and so didn’t have to pay) and am trying to watch my spending. The bus is supposed to come around 8:08; it usually ranges anytime between then and 8:15–which is crazy, because I’m, like, the third stop on this route. And if there’s a traffic jam that would impede the bus’s progress, I’d be able to see it.

So I left my apartment at 8:05, dropped off my trash and recycling, and went to the bus stop. Now, even while going to the dumpster, I can still see whether the bus goes by. And it didn’t. So I’m standing outside. In the 20 degree weather. And the wind. And I stand. And I stand.

8:15 comes and I say, “Screw it” and drive to work.

Now, there are times when I can get behind the bus being a bit early. But today is not a day when someone is going to get to the bus stop early. Who wants to stand in the windy, 20-degree weather longer than they absolutely need to? (Not me, I’ll tell you that. It took me like 3 hours to warm up from those 10 minutes of standing outside.)

Not a happy way to begin the day. Well, except that I did get to drive to work in my warm car. That was a bonus. But still, Ride On, you owe me $6.75.

In the morning, I watch tv as I get ready for work. If I’m on time, it’s the History Channel–Civil War Journal, The Most, Modern Marvels. If I’m running a bit late, it’s The West Wing on Bravo. Turns out these two channels have very similar demos; or, at least, similar enough that they run the same commercials. Seriously, I’ve seen that stupid Rosetta Stone commercial at least a million times. I’m still interested in the product, but please, please stop selling me on it.

Anyway, there’s a new one that really annoys me. The narrator says something about people not paying attention when shopping, and shows a blindfolded woman picking a frozen meal out of a freezer aisle. Then she takes off the blindfold and looks at the nutritional information. “300 calories?!” she says, horrified. “And 8 grams of fat!” Then it mentions that there’s this soup that’s only 80 calories! Why are you consuming so many calories needlessly?

Well, first, if I’m buying a frozen meal, I’m probably going to have it for lunch. At work. Where I don’t exactly have access to a stove upon which to heat the soup. And no, it didn’t seem that this soup came in those “Heat in the microwave” containers.

But more annoyingly, really, 300 calories and 8 grams of fat (which is on the high end for a Healthy Choice or similar frozen meal) IS NOT THAT MUCH FOR A MEAL. If you assume that the average person should be eating 2000 calories a day, we’re talking about 15% of the day’s calories. Which seems about right, for lunch. Honestly, I don’t know that 80 calories is going to power me through the afternoon. Maybe if I paired it with someone…which, of course, means I’d be consuming more than 80 calories for lunch. Quite possibly, something at much as 300 calories.

Now, it’s not that I’m anti-soup. I’m not. I frequently have soup for lunch on weekends. I’m just saying that sheesh, people, it’s not like we can live without any calories. Simmer down.