Musings about 2006

1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?
Sold a property. For a couple of harrowing weeks, owned two houses. And, of course, gave birth. Hallelujah, holy shit!

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions?
No, unless "stop going to the gym in mid-April" and "not lose baby weight" can be counted.

3. What countries did you visit?
None. But we were intending to go to Ireland.

4. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
Energy!

5. What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
February 7, when we found out we were having a little girl and first went shopping for tiny pink things. July 12, my due date and also the day we got central air. July 21, Olivia's eventual birthdate. December 21, when Olivia said her first word (without intent, but still): mama!

6. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Again, I have to go with giving birth. But really, the whole of 2006 was extraordinary. Buying this house and worrying every day that the deal would fall through, selling the condo and worrying every day that the deal would fall through, moving at eight months along, living without AC (dear god how do people do it?), picking Joe up from the train station for a month before he got a car, Joe finishing school, having and caring for Olivia, and dealing with not one, not, two, but three contractors? That's enough stuff for five years.

7. What was your biggest failure?
I fell out of touch with Amanda and haven't spoken to her at all since Olivia's birth.

8. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had three major colds during my pregnancy, which are only worth mentioning because I couldn't. take. anything. It sucked. And a level 2 perineal tear certainly counts as injury, especially when the doctor asks, "Hmm. Do you normally bleed a lot?" and has you rolled down to the ER for repair. God help all you Level 3 and 4 ladies.

9. What was the best thing you bought?
A Trane XR13... in other words, central fucking air. Also, the First Years bottle warmer has been extremely useful since Day 1.

10. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Joe's. Raising a baby is hard. Joe does it with patience and love for Olivia and me.

11. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
George W. Bush

12. Where did most of your money go?
Contractors, mortgage, diapers, formula, Macy's.

13. What song will always remind you of 2006?
"When You Were Young" by the Killers.

14. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) Happier or sadder? Happier
b) Thinner or fatter? Fatter
c) Richer or poorer? Richer

15. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Exercise.

16. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Stressing out.

17. How did you spend Christmas?
Christmas Eve we went to my grandparents' house. It was about a million degrees in their house and I had cramps. Olivia was a perfect doll. We watched A Christmas Carol but didn't finish it. On Christmas morning we wore pajamas over to my parents' house and had the perfect day in. We had eggs benedict, potato latkes, and panetone for breakfast. We opened gifts. We watched Christmas Vacation. We had roast beef with horseradish dressing, au gratin potatoes, and Cobb salad for dinner, and homemade lemon raspberry tarts for dessert. It took two cars to get all of Olivia's new toys back to our house.

18. Did you fall in love in 2006?
Yes, absolutely. But parental love is weird, it's like, if you could take even a tiny glimpse into the whole of it, you wouldn't be able to function, go to work, or ever let your little one leave your sight, so you don't feel it all at once, you just feel it in swells and snap crackle pops with every smile, butt dance, and silly inhaled laugh.

19. How many one-night stands?
None, but having a baby means whoring yourself out to at least ten doctors and nurses.

20. What was your favorite TV program?
Intervention, 30 Days, and the Office.

21. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No. I hate Barbara Walters, but I felt that way last year too.

22. What was the best book you read?
Kitchen Confidential. Just finished it. An enjoyable, educational read. Anthony Bourdain is a stud.

23. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Jenny Lewis. And that the Killers are for fucking real.

24. What did you want and get?
Olivia.

25. What did you want and not get?
A ginormous inheritance from a long-lost relative.

26. What was your favorite film of this year?
Borat.

27. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I went to Polcari's for dinner with my family and Red, Carly, and Professor K. I turned 29 (dun-dun-DUN!)

28. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
This year was already immeasurably satisfying. But as a bonus, I'd've liked to have these fugly wallpaper borders removed and my living room, bedroom and family room painted.

29. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005?
January-March: Stretchy work clothes, jeans with hair elastic wrapped around button for extra room, pointy-toe boots.
March-July: Maternity wear, including elastic panel jeans, empire waist tops, black stretch trousers, tank tops, one pair of comfy gauchos (ruined by a bottle of spray-bleach, just in time, frankly), flip-flops (two pairs of Rocket Dogs, the only brand that fit), and a pair of black Franco Sarto mules now stretched into oblivion.
July-October: Jeans, tank tops, casual long-sleeved jerseys, flip-flops (Reef - ahh), brown Steve Madden cable-knit sweater slides.
October-December: Trousers, sweaters, button-downs, jeans, all new, all one size bigger than pre-pregnancy, same pointy-toe boots (thank god, shoe size did not permanently increase as feared. Hopefully that will also apply to ass size).

30. What kept you sane?
My family and friends. Thank you.

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
This year I had a thing for Dermot Mulroney.

32. What political issue stirred you the most?
The war. Illegal immigration. Gay marriage.

33. Who did you miss?
Amanda.

34. Who is the best new person you met?
Another no-brainer. My little one, Olivia Rachel.

35. Tell us some valuable life lessons you learned in 2006.
Be nice to your spouse even if you're both exhausted. Take a weekend away from the baby even though you'll miss her. Get massages.

36. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
You're my satellite
You're riding with me tonight
Passenger side, lighting the sky
Always the first star that I find
You're my satellite
-Guster, Satellite

How you know you're a parent

This happens:

You run out of your Paul Mitchell Super Strong shampoo and use Gerber Grins & Giggles as a substitute.

The Portion of Gabe Kapler's Press Conference that Didn't Make the Networks

Member of the Press Corps: Gabe, you’ve just announced that you’re retiring from baseball to become skipper of the Red Sox Class-A Greenville Drive. You’re only 31 years old. Why now?

Gabe Kapler: After a lot of deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll be able to have more of an impact on the game as a manager and leader. I’m very grateful to the organization for affording me this extraordinary opportunity.

PC: Is that the only reason?

GK: Well, managing will allow me to spend more time with my family. I also want to devote time to my foundation and educating the public about domestic violence. Ladies: if you’re ever in an abusive relationship, call me and I will come over to your house and personally beat the crap out of the bastard. I’ll stalk him at work, at the strip club, at his mistress’s, whatever you need.

PC: What kind of contribution do you hope to make in Greenville?

GK: I think I’ll be able to make a big contribution to the club. I feel I really understand the mentality of Single-A players. At that level, natural athletic talent can really carry you and I want to help the players maintain realistic expectations. Take me; I was a star in Single-A. By the time I got to the majors, it was apparent that I didn’t have the speed, coordination or instincts to really excel. I mean, look at my stats: .270 lifetime average and only 64 home runs over nine seasons. With this physique? Something just wasn’t clicking. I just don’t want these guys to get up there and be disappointed.

PC: Well, we weren’t going to be the ones to say it.

GK: Yeah, well, what are you gonna do. Besides, being a backup outfielder wasn’t very exciting. I think managing will be more of a challenge. Plus I’ll be in South Carolina: beach, barbecue, year round golf… pretty sweet.

PC: Are there any other reasons?

GK: You guys are so damn pushy. If you have to know, playing in the majors was really starting to take its toll on me physically.

PC: Are you referring to the Achilles rupture you suffered a couple years back?

GK: No. I mean in general. Like, all the air travel was totally fucking up my skin. It used to be perfect but now I get these dry patches, but my forehead’s oily. What’s up with that?

PC: …

GK: Especially when we’d go to the West Coast, the time change would mess with my sleep. I started to get dark circles. I asked the trainers about it, but there wasn’t really anything they could do. Plus I was riding the bench a lot, so I was afraid my ass was starting to spread.

PC: Okay…

GK: So, you know, I’ll be glad to be down South. The humidity will probably help… with the skin thing, I mean.

PC: You could try a really good moisturizer, like Kiehl’s or La Mer. Uhh, I mean, are you planning to model your management style after any of the great skippers?

GK: I tried some goop my wife uses, but it didn’t help. I’m just concentrating on staying hydrated. I can’t wait to get set up down there. I’m planning to build this outdoor gym, right? Right on the beach… put my Bowflex out there, treadmill, elliptical, press, full set of barbells, plasma TV so I can analyze tape while I run, and a full-length mirror so I can do muscle poses and kiss my biceps. Plus this state-of-the-art machine I have that tracks your vitals. I get a technician from the manufacturer to come by every three months to recalibrate it. I'll also have an outdoor shower and a wet bar so I can make protein shakes and smoothies. I really can’t wait.

PC: Nice. Can I come over?

GK: Sure, come for Shabbos. But leave your tape recorder at the door. And don’t go near my wife. I heard about you and Anna Benson. Look at these guns. I could make your face eat itself with one blow.

PC: Is that a threat?

GK: All I’m saying is, you’d best mind your manners.

PC: Uh, thanks for your time. [overheard] Chuck, bring the van around, now.

Going to Canada is like riding a unicorn through a field of candy canes! Or so claims the Ministry of Tourism's drug-induced radio spot.

Back in college, my friends and I used to make yearly pilgrimages to Montreal. That’s a great road trip if you hate scenery—three hours of scraggly Vermont wilderness and two more of flat Quebec farmland punctuated by metal-roofed farmhouses… that is, until you reach Iberville and this imposing bastion of advertising, this Paul Bunyan of carbonation, looms into view:


Such a great specimen of roadside kitsch! Coke man is the best.

I’ve been up to Montreal a few times, but the best time was with my friend Amy. It was wintertime, very cold and icy. The hotels in Montreal proper are expensive for po’ college kids, so we stayed in Longueuil, just across the river. It was a high-rise and we were on something like the tenth floor, so we had an amazing view of the bridge, the river, the city, and the heavy, swirling snow.

Our first mission upon arrival was to find a liquor store. We were always giddy bringing our purchases to the counter, feeling like undercover agents from the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms were going to leap out and arrest us. Somehow, we always managed to evade them and make off with our contraband: Bailey’s and butterscotch schnapps. Heh.

To kill time during the day, because it was zero degrees out, we went to the mall in Longueuil. It was fun to browse Canadian stores (hello acid wash!), marvel at how the Tragically Hip can be a household name in Canada and virtually unknown in the States, and people-watch in the food court while enjoying French fries with vinegar and a Labatt Bleu. The highlight was witnessing a guy being chased by the Royal Canadian Mounted Shopping Centre Force, tackled to the ground, and handcuffed.

Back at the hotel, we began the elaborate ritual of getting ready to go out. Besides showering, applying makeup, styling hair, and trying on and rejecting every article of clothing (our own and each other’s) before returning to our pre-planned outfits (invariably black pants, black boots and a sassy top), we bopped around to the Backstreet Boys and tipped back about ten buttershots apiece. Then we assembled M.I.L.K., buttoned up our coats, and descended into the Metro. Destination: Peel Pub.


I still get warm and fuzzy when I think of Peel Pub. Honestly, we thought we had discovered the best bar in the city, and had going online in 1996 not involved eighty billion hours of waiting for Netscape to load a single page we would have known this, but Peel Pub is home away from home for McGill students: big, divey, loud, jammed with tables, hockey on 24/7 and pitchers of Molson Triple-X flowing plentifully. And it was full of Canadians, who are friendly and love to drink, but who aren’t underage and therefore aren’t all fratty-bo-batty and binging it up like American college students.

We met tons of guys there, all of whom, once it was revealed that we were Americans, wanted to treat us to an enthusiastic, if slightly defensive, litany of reasons why Canada rules. I’ve heard this more than twice, and the list is always like, “Hockey! Better beer! Um, let me think. Because it’s not the States!” which… huh? Beyond whatever that is supposed to imply about the U.S., why would you hinge your national identity on a fervent anti-comparison to a neighboring country (unless you live in South Korea, in which case I understand)? It sounds ridiculous. “Denmark is great! You know why? It isn’t Norway.”

Although how great would it be if there was a random Dane reading this like, “Word.”

Anyway, putting Canada’s insecurity aside, we got drunk. We talked to people, although I have no recollection of anything that was discussed (I’ll take a stab: hockey? Beer?). I do remember sitting there enjoying myself when a guy walking by stopped abruptly, leaned down, and kissed me. Afterwards, he said, “I felt like doing that, so I did.”

Later on we decided to leave. I’m not sure why, or if we were with anyone, or where we were planning to go next, but I yelled at two guys on the sidewalk whom we had seen inside. They stopped to talk, and ended up escorting us to a nearby pub, where there was an Irish band and a bunch of middle-aged people dancing. It was fun, especially when a guy in a cable-knit sweater who was old enough to know better fell off his barstool. After that they took us to a boring club; the only thing I remember about that place is there was a gigantic fancy staircase and two-for-one Budweisers. Finally, we all went to a nearly empty pool hall where we did shots of tequila.

Afterwards, on the street, they tried to invite us back to their apartment to watch Apocalypse Now. It was getting weird and there weren’t many people on the street and we were in a random area near the Molson Centre. Amy and I kept communicating with our eyes about how we were going to get out of the situation. A cab magically slowed at the corner, Amy flagged the driver, and we jumped into the back. The driver was funny. “Thank you for saving us,” we told him. “Ahh… they want to make babies,” he said in a gutteral French accent. Then he wanted us to play a trick on another cab driver. I agreed to call the driver pretending to be a stripper who had just gotten off her shift at Solid Gold and needed to be picked up. I’d say it was the strangest cab ride of my life, but there was also the time on Storrow Drive when we got into an accident with a Jeep and, of course, the Travis Bickle doppelganger who drove us to see Dane this summer.

How does this meandering and not very entertaining story end? We slept until five minutes before checkout. Driving home, we got on 87 instead of 89 because there are no signs and had to go through upstate New York.

Well hey, what kind of big finish did you want, dancing girls in feather headdresses? This is a blog, not English class. And apparently not Vegas, now that I've taken it there. Not even Atlantic City.

BFF

Another communique, this time from a lovely young woman of apparent Italian descent who is seeking the comfort of friendship in an unfamiliar land:

Hello my dear friend. I was lookinga through the web few weeks ago anda founda your profile. Now I decided to webmail you to geta to know ayou better. I am coming to yaour couantry in few weeks and thoughta may bbe we caan meet each other. I am pretty looking girl. I am 25. Do not reply to this address directly. Email me back at qgfyy @ newhomefast . info

Isn't that nice? I can already picture it: the two of us becoming fast friends, walking the Freedom Trail, shopping on Newbury Street, stopping for gelato in the North End, giggling over boys and shoes, and thinking up ways to scam people out of their life's savings.

++@@@@++Get PENILE ENHANCEMENT!++@@@@++

I get a bunch of spam emails in my work email. A lot of them are like fake press releases about stocks, and some of them are gibberish. But today, I received an urgent missive from deeply invested party on behalf of the furry ones among us.

The subject line read: Well, I would like to humbly proclaim that both of these time-lasting problems could be solved with one easy solution.

Tell me more, O Humble One. I am shamefully ignorant of the time-lasting problems of which you speak. Educate me.

I was wondering if many of you have noticed the same dirty trend going on?

In it, she tackles that great bugaboo in the world of animal ethology: whether the furry ones among us have emotions. As a bonus, such a convention would help scientists from different disciplines, such as ethology and psychology, share theories and speak a common language. Karl Grammer, director of the Ludwig-Boltzmann-Institute for Urban Ethology at the University of Vienna, Austria, said the researchers were

And that’s it. Cut off mid-sentence. The suspense is killing me! What have the researchers found out about? DO the furry ones have emotions? What, pray tell, is the one easy solution?

Most importantly: have you, my friends, noticed the same dirty trend? Only we can help solve the great bugaboo. We must answer the call to action and remain vigilant; the future of animal ethology may depend on it.

Thank you for your time.

Four-letter word

It snowed this morning. For the love of Spam, I am not fucking ready for this shit. When I left my house at 6:45 a.m. there were fat, wet flakes mixed in with the rain. By the time I was halfway to work, it was all snow. I got to work twenty minutes late. That’s because I am incapable of leaving any earlier. What? Watching FOX Morning News from 6:05 until 6:20 with my bangs dried but the rest of my wet hair up in clips is part of my routine, okay?

(In case you’re wondering, and I hope you are, yes, I’ve asked myself plenty of times why I choose FOX as my morning news source. It is likely because I’m not interested in hearing any actual news at 6:00 a.m. “News” stories featuring mob bosses or flashers on the T are more my speed at that time of day, plus I think the traffic reporter, Doug Meehan, is cute. Alternate programming includes the Weather Channel, which makes me feel like I’m in a hotel, and BBC News, where the reporting of global atrocities is tempered by the soothing timbre of the anchor’s voice.)

Olivia update: she saw the pediatrician for her 4-month well-baby checkup on Friday and she continues to be a healthy, growing girl. She’s 16 pounds 6 oz, which is the 92nd percentile. We knew she was thriving but it’s amazing how she’s grown considering she’s been taking the same amount of formula since she was two months. I guess babies know what they need. We got the green light to try her on rice cereal, but the first attempt didn’t go well. She didn’t like the spoon or the new taste, most of it ended up on her bib, and she made faces and cried, so we didn’t force her. We’ll try again tonight and keep introducing it until it becomes more familiar and her curiosity gets the better of her. She’s exhibiting all the signs of being ready, like watching us when we eat, mouthing her hands and toys, etc. Yesterday I gave her a spoon to hold so she could get used to it, and she did put it in her mouth, so we’ll see. Fruits and yellow vegetables come next, so if she ever wants to know the joy that is pureed banana, she’ll get on board with the cereal.