Big People, Beer, Babies and Blankets

My mom's side of the family, the O'Briens, got together in St. Louis this weekend (her hometown) and I drove in from Chicago, and my parents, Lauren and George drove in from Atlanta. It was a great time, and I learned a few things along the way.

We reconvened on Friday evening at my Aunt Mickey's house, which she shares with her charming and sweet husband Jerry, and laughed at dinner as we collectively tried to solve the world's problems - first the mortgage crisis, then immigration issues, then relationship battles and then corporate frustrations. We were not always in agreement, yet at the end of the night, we all knew where we stood. Together.

Saturday afternoon we toured The Gateway Arch, which is quite an engineering marvel, and all stifled our own bouts of claustrophobia as we boarded the tiny 5-person capsules to elevate to the top of the 630-foot monument where we could see far and wide, east and west. In the trek up into the sky, we had fun trying to squeeze all five of us into the car, equaling almost 30-feet of legs into one tiny little space. We are big people. Being inside the monument brought back memories of that very same visit from about 25 years ago, when we cousins were all little kids leaning on the carpeted observation platforms to look down into the city below. When we stood at the base and took photos along the stainless steel, reflecting in the metal and in each other's faces.

That evening, we gathered at my cousin Carrie's lovely house to celebrate and surprise my Aunt Maureen's 60th birthday. At one point in the evening, while we were all chugging Anheuser-Busch products just to stay cool, I stopped pounding the city's staple beer long enough to realize that eight of my mom's nine siblings were there - and one look around the room confirmed it. They all look so much alike, like carbon copies of the others, really, that it fascinates me. Genetics were good to the O'Briens, and it is fun to see them all in the room together.

Even their voices are the same - except Uncle Terry's this weekend as he was suffering from laryngitis - and more than once I mistook one of my aunts for my own mother. As for the noise? Wow. The din rose to nearly deadly decibels at times, causing many of us to wince at least once. Terry, I think you're free from blame this time.

My favorite thing about these gatherings is to sit with a cousin that I may not see very often and really connect - find out what's been going on since Christmas, or the last wedding, and how life is treating them. It is always interesting to acknowledge how much alike we all are, too, in the second generation - having been raised by parents with the same values and ethics and moral compass - so we all seem to respond to life's challenges and celebrations in the same way. And, we all like a good party. Michelle - I have no doubt we'll figure it all out and look back on this time and laugh - let's just enjoy it now while we can. The rest of them are probably envious of what we have!

All in all it was a great visit, capped off by a girly bridal shower for my cousin Maureen in San Francisco at my sweet Aunt Sharon's house. It was our first "virtual" shower as we had her on the phone (Skype was being finicky) and showed the gifts to one another before wrapping them, all to go into a large postal box headed west. That will be one fun box to receive! Hopefully it arrives before the baby girl does. I spent much of the day marveling and my cousins' beautiful children - but when naptime was long overdue, was not too sorry to give them back to their mothers.

Yesterday's drive back to Chicago was fairly uneventful, albeit long and boring. After leaving St. Louis, and the hilly green lush landscapes near the Missouri River, I was treated to 4 and a half hours of flat, brown fields of farmland, with vegetables and grains that this city girl is hard pressed to identify. Either way, when I passed Midway airport and could finally make out the skyline in the distance, I felt a sigh of relief.

I'd had a lot of time to think while trekking north through my state. It felt good to walk into my apartment and drop the bags at the door. While I love leaving town every now and then for a fun weekend filled with family, witnessing great monuments, surprise celebrations, technologically savvy parties and shocking road-trip moments, I'm always thankful to be home. I already missed my family, and looked forward to the next time we'll all be together, which thankfully is in September for Lauren and George's wedding.

I can't help but compare family to a blanket, though. As I had plenty of time to think in the car on the way back, I realized that family, no matter the size, is as reliable and comfortable as a blanket you've had for years. Not the nubby one that your mom cut up into smaller and smaller pieces to wean you off of it, or the scratchy one at a cheap hotel, but the one that is lovingly draped across the arm of your favorite couch.

Forgive me as I explore this metaphor.

With family, as with every good blanket, there are areas that are frayed and showing wear and tear, and there are holes where the knots aren't as tight as they used to be, and there are stains that show the history of its use, but one thing holds true.

Just as with a blanket, where it pulls tighter and the threads stay woven close together, family has a way of pulling together when it is important to do so. I witnessed this phenomenon in several instances this weekend, some happy and some sad, and feel reassured that when in doubt, family pulls together and comforts us when we need it.

I realize, too, that not everyone feels that way, and even I doubt it sometimes, but I do believe that our family does it well. We can all recognize that we're threaded together in different patterns, taking various paths and making unique choices, but at the end of it all, we're all interwoven, made from similar fabric. Sometimes it just feels good to shrug that blanket onto your shoulders and bask in its warmth, and sometimes you don't need one, and are better off on your own.

But, we all would be lost without the others - no one has ever warmed themselves in winter with just a scrap of fabric or a few loose threads - we are better together for certain. Our family is built on, proud of, and strengthened by the traditions that are handed down through the generations, and we will ride out the areas of life that are wearing us thin. We'll show off the beauty of our clan and celebrate the milestones as one cohesive unit. We truly are a beautiful blanket to behold.

And, quite frankly, we all look good laying on the couch.

Perennially Unsatisfied

I finally figured it out.

People in Chicago like to have something to complain about.

The weather, specifically.

The very same people that bitch and moan all winter because it is too cold, too dry, too windy and too unbearable outside are the ones that, now with summer here, are complaining that it is too hot, too humid, too stifling and too unbearable outside.

Did you see the ironic paralells there? No? I'll point them out more overtly:

cold vs. hot...
dry vs. humid...
windy vs. stifling...
...all equal unbearable.

I know people in Chicago are considered tough characters. One look at the crowd at a Bears Game, one study in history of the famous Chicagoans, or one glance at the current Chicago Tribune headlines proves that people here are made of sturdy stock.

But, I think the complaining about the weather is part of that charade. Part of the deal.

I've even fallen victim to it - I have seen temperatures of 105 and -11 register on my car thermostat. I have flown into Chicago from Phoenix in February and had the pilot actually LAUGH as he tells us that after leaving the 80 degree weather in Arizona, we were touching down in Chicago to temperatures of 20 below zero with a windchill. Which, for all of who not having gone to math camp, is a ONE HUNDRED DEGREE swing in the matter of four hours. I have called my Dad to laugh about the ridiculous swings in the weather here. I have even put my random complaints in various posts here. Maybe I'm just trying to blend in and sound native.

But, I mean, really? You never want it hot? Or cold? Or windy? Or still? Or humid? Or dry?

Seriously.

Where should these people live?

Where should I tell them to go? (Besides straight there.)

And, frankly, is there a train that will shuttle them there?

'Cause the one way ticket is on me.

Swap and Sweat

Last night I hosted my first swap party. A sweaty one, but a swap nonetheless.

The idea was generated as my co-worker and friend Meredith and I flew home from one of our many business trips, with that month's issue of Real Simple in our laps. The suggestion was a recession friendly one - have a gaggle of girls over, ask them to bring between 7 and 10 items of clothing or housewares that they like, but no longer wear/use, and share them with the other guests.

As we compiled our guest list, the numbers of possible attendees topped 15 girls - we knew lots of ladies who seemed to fit the bill between us. We added her friend Rachel to the mix as a co-host, and all of a sudden we had a plan. We crafted an invitation and sent it out to our friends.

With the crazy travel schedule that Meredith and I deal with, and the fact that we work together and often have to go to New Jersey together, we had to reschedule the party more than once. Finally, the date worked for all of us, and it was set.

As I changed over my closet from winter clothing to spring/summer clothes, the bag of giveaways and give-to-friends items became larger and larger. In fact, I had collected WAY more than the recommended 7-10 items. Never fear, I felt confident that the party would be a success.

And then, as you read, my air conditioning unit in my living room went out unexpectedly on Saturday. Unfettered, I bought a $15 box fan from CVS, opened the windows, and opened my front door.

At 6:45 tonight, the doorman announced my girls had arrived. Well, not MY girls, but Meredith and Rachel's girls. My friends' schedules were all of a sudden as crazy as mine - with deadlines, work functions, sailing events and freelance jobs, the list had dwindled down to six attendees, none of whom I knew before except Meredith.

They all walked into my sweltering living room with loads of stuff. And immediately flew into action. While I uncorked the wine and served the cold beverages, the girls dove into action, sorting the clothing by style (tops over here, skirts over here, jeans over here, and shoes lined up against the wall here) and laid out the items on every available space in my 1,000 square foot condo. Before I could even pour six glasses of chilled wine, the "store" was ready for shopping.

We realized, at this moment, that the chatter had not even paused, and that everyone was socializing at a rapid, frenetic pace you don't often find at girls' functions where not everyone knows each other. We believed, at that moment, that we'd solved the "networking challenges" of social outings - throw a bunch of girls in a room with wine and tell them that they get to give away stuff they don't want and they can take home more than one thing they do want? And, they're all suddenly insta-friends.

Now, let me remind you - this was not unlike any typical shopping adventure. You had to first browse, then take a few items into the bedroom and try them on and come out and model them for everyone else to vote on. And, you had to spin in front of the full-length mirror a few times first.

Need I remind you that my air conditioning wasn't working? And that it was 90 degrees with a blazing hot sun setting over the western sky? Yes. It was brutally hot, and these new friends were too kind, and far too polite, to embarrass me with their sweat. Everyone just brushed off the glistening parts and kept moving.

By the end of the fourth round, taking turns by number, we had each amassed about 6 or 7 things that we got to keep - in exchange for things that we were thrilled to see find a new owner and a new future home. We bragged about our clothes, and told stories of their wear. We sampled each other's items, and oohed and aahed when the right item landed on the right body.

I have to admit - I wish I were a few sizes smaller with much smaller feet - because this was some kind of grab 'n go. There were designer jeans, clothes with tags still on, hip and trendy choices and even a few good "church dresses" and "work outfits" to grab onto.

Overall, it was a hit.

The pizza delivery guy looked quizzically at me as I stood in the doorway, refusing to open it too wide for fear of showing him a REAL SIGHT of several hot, sweating girls in various states of undress. The neighbors in the building to the north of me likely got a real show tonight - as we all grew more comfortable, it became like the Filene's Basement tag sale - girls stripping down to their skivvies in the middle of the living room - lost wine glasses sweating on side tables and pizza long since forgotten.

The long and the short of it was that we all got a few new things, emptied our closets of those "guilty items" that never got worn, and the Salvation Army will get two ENORMOUS bags of very nice donations when I can finally drag the leftovers to the store for a drop-off and tax write-off. And, we all made new friends (which we've all seen now in our underwear, so that already levels the playing field).

As for the leftover pizza? When I stop sweating, I may consider eating that for dinner tomorrow night.

Just to ensure that I'll never fit in the clothes that show up at the next swap party, for certain.

The air conditioner saga will be resolved on Friday, when the ABT delivery guy comes to install my new wall unit - which, much to my dismay - is significantly more expensive than your typical window unit.

But the chilly temps that will follow are sure to make the wine and the various states of undress all that more delicious.

I told you I was back.

Breakdown

It always seems to be the case that everything is working just fine. And then it isn't.

(Never fear, Mom, this post is not about my mental state. Refer to the earlier posts this week, I'm doing great.)

Nope. Instead it is about the sheer fact that everything seems to breakdown just when you need it most.

How is it possible that I have two window air conditioning units, and the one that is old as the hills, and looks to be on its very last breath, seems to work just fine...and the newer one that is shiny and white, that sits in my living/dining room, doesn't want to work?

I haven't turned it on since at least September, and I did so on Saturday to cool the place off for a bit since it was 85 degrees out, and what would you know? Nothing. Nada.

Not even a hint of a breeze, cold or lukewarm. I had maintenance in my condo building come check out both of them yesterday, and to my dismay, the newer of the two is kaput. Finished. I have to get it replaced.

And, it is slated to be near or above 90 degrees all week.

Delightful. Did I mention that I'm 13 floors up, and the window unit fits into the small space in the radiator, which seems to require someone with the appropriate skill level (and brute strength, I'd imagine) to remove the existing one and replace it with the new model that I've yet to purchase?

Which leaves me to ask the obvious: Can I hire a husband for the day?

To make matters worse, in May, I just made my very last car payment on my little beloved Jeep Liberty. Proudly, I can attest that I have not had to dump any money into her for the life of my ownership - which is just over 4 years, mind you. The 2003 model has served me well, and hasn't cost me much beyond the occasional oil change and a monthly (or so) tank of gas.

Until now.

Right as I consider the option to sell her (egad!) because of how rarely I drive, and the unnecessary nature of those three or four trips per month (can anyone say needless Target trips? Outlandishly silly IKEA visits?), the computer in the car seems to be on the fritz. It was approximately 85 degrees on Saturday when I ran out to aforementioned Target and the in-dash thermostat read 74 degrees. Now, I am a true southern girl who loves her mid-seventies days as well as anyone - but I''m no fool.

74 degrees feels a whole lot different than 85 and humid. It wasn't even close to the more affable mid-seventies range on Saturday. But my Liberty insisted it was. The compass seemed to be on track, facing West as I caroused down Addison to heaven, I mean, Target, and East as I made my way through the Wrigley Field throngs past the stadium towards home, but the temperature? Stuck at 74.

I'm devastated.

Either I have to plunk money into a car that I really ought to sell (only to sign up for Zipcar for Target runs), which just is no fun at all, or I have to sell my "excellent condition" Jeep for something less. I'm still hoping for a computerized miracle - that she was just in a mid-seventies kind of mood on Saturday and that the next time I climb inside her and nestle on the lovely leather seats, that she'll have readjusted to the normal temperature. And temperament.

But given my recent luck with electronics/machinery (you remember the Tivo fiasco, don't you?), I doubt it.

It breaks my little car and condo owner heart to admit that things just have a way of breaking down when you need them the most.

In the immortal words of Alanis, 'Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?'

Kool & The Gang is Stuck in My Head Now

As I indicated in my previous blog this week, a lot has been going on. Not just to me, but to those around me.

It seems that there are many things to be thankful for, and quite a few events to CELEBRATE! Please allow me to turn the focus off of myself for once and shed some congratulatory light on those that I love.

And, I apologize in advance if Kool & the Gang's standard wedding hit of "Celebration" is in your head now. Mine too. Yes, it is annoying. Sorry.

Lauren and George:
I couldn't be happier for you. Engaged! I can't believe my little sister is getting married. I am so thrilled that you two are planning a marriage and focusing on the real deal, rather than spending so much time and energy on planning a wedding. While we'll all enjoy a lovely weekend celebration of your marriage in early September, I'm so proud of how you two are handling it all. It seems that you have it all figured out, and I'm excited for you as you begin your life together. You are a blessing in my life, both of you, and I am honored to be a part of your special event. And, George, welcome to the family. The birthday gift (of a bike helmet) may come in handy as you graciously join the Snell clan. We're a rowdy crowd! Welcome to the family.


Brenna and John:
You're married! It was one of the loveliest, most thoughtful and fanciest party weekends of all time, and I was honored to be included in your wedding party. I enjoyed meeting your friends, your families and your extended families. I even enjoyed the part where you tried to set me up with every man over six feet tall who attended the wedding. (John, you know you're guilty.) After what I can imagine was two glorious weeks in Spain, I welcome you back to the city. It's a bit muggy, but at least you can find restaurants selling chicken.


Jill:
A special congratulations to Jill for passing your professional HR certification test! I know how hard you studied - and how difficult it is to stay awake while reading that boring material! - but it all paid off and now you are finished and fancy schmancy professionally official. I'm so proud of you and your new job. I hope that it brings you all the success you deserve, especially given how much you give to everything you do. They are lucky to have (the newly certified) you!


Mandy and Dave:
Again, a baby!! I can't believe how God works - isn't it such a glorious and wonderful miracle to behold? Peyton is one lucky little lady to have had you all to herself for four years now, and I am certain she will enjoy playing Big Sister to your impending arrival. I couldn't be happier for you all. And, if Peyton's darling little face is any indication, your second child will be a stunner!


Bethy and Guy:
Congratulations on baby number 3! I can't believe you guys have three kids. All I've accomplished in that amount of time is three different jobs, a few haircuts and a couple of extra pounds. Brendon is darling and I'm sure your girls are so happy to have a baby brother to pick on, I mean, spoil rotten. Spare the kid some pain and avoid too many pink hand-me-downs. Enjoy him!


Katie and Jeff:
I love your new place, and I love the fact that I've already been invited over twice to celebrate fun times with you. I am glad you forgive me, Jeff, for rearranging your bedroom before you'd even unpacked all the way. It is just who I am, I can't help it. I hope that by putting together the wine rack in the kitchen I earned another invitation. I promise not to touch the electronics or to hang any more pictures. Scout's honor.


Mandi and John:
Congratulations on the impending arrival of baby girl #3 in the family. John, I am sorry that I live too far away for you to teach me how to throw a football - I'm pretty sure you'll have to train at least one of your daughters on the finer points of how to QB and call plays. Because three girls? God Bless You.


Tracy and Vytas:
After 21 months, approximately 20,000 nautical miles, two trans Atlantic passages and visiting 19 countries - I am so thrilled that your adventure at sea is complete and you are back safe and sound in Chicago. It is so great to have you back, and I will keep a watchful eye on you and Sunshine Daydream at home in Monroe Harbor from my office window. Prepare yourself for unannounced visitors arriving by tender! I promise to come bearing (fancy imported) beer.


Elizabeth and Walton:
Now that it is out in the open (or at least it has hit the Internet!), congratulations on your impending baby boy!! I can't believe it, and am so happy for you. Now, the big question on everyone's mind is, what color will your son wear during football season? My personal preference is red, but I'm pretty sure there will be some orange items in his repoitoire. I wish you a healthy and easy pregnancy, a healthy and happy baby boy, and a national championship Bulldogs 2010 season. I may be getting ahead of myself here. Two out of three?


Peter:
Now, this isn't all that well-timed, but after having finished your novella I am fully convinced of your enormous talent for capturing the everyday moments that most of us miss. I'm impressed with your turn of the words, and wish there were more men like Brandon out there. Congratulations, and keep writing - for the good of all!
Heather and Kristen:
Happy birthday to you both! That was timed nicely, now wasn't it? Heather, this birthday wish is early since you're quite a few hours ahead of us here in the States, but oh how I would love to with you to share a basket of fish and chips for your day. Frankly, I just wish we could sit in the back of a London pub all day and laugh about our lives. Enjoy it without me! And, Kristen, I'm looking forward to toasting you tonight. Two girls' dinners in a handful of days is just delicious. And, I hope that soon we'll be toasting your new status as a first-time homeowner...



Okay, so I said it would be about everyone else this time, but here's one reason I'm celebrating a little bit these days.

Lil' Old Me:
I am finally over him. I don't miss him anymore. I still miss the comforts and fun of a relationship, but I realized two weeks ago that it isn't him that I miss anymore. It hurt so much for so long, and then as quietly as the heartbreak came, it left. I feel 100 pounds lighter, mentally healthier and emotionally settled again. I even replaced all of the framed photos in my home with lovely, and positive, evidence of my girlfriends and family. It felt great to put his images in a drawer. I'll forever be grateful for our time together, I'll miss his parents dearly and will envy the girl who gets to have them as her in-laws, and I will cherish our memories. However, I will not cry anymore about him ending things so abruptly and without a sliver of explanation, and it will not stab me in the gut to see him at parties anymore. I'm in a much better place now, and that's reason enough to celebrate. I can even handle the news that he is dating someone. Honestly? I am over it. And freedom from that ache feels so good.


How lucky am I to be surrounded by such great people and exciting things?

Cheers to all!

Anything else we should be celebrating?

(The fact that the song is finally out of your head, maybe?)

(Great. Now it's back. RATS!)

Oddly Enough

As a blogger, I have taken to noticing strange human behavior a little more regularly than I used to. It makes for good fodder and I cannot help but share the little tidbits that I see along the way.

And, spending so much time in the airports lately has given me plenty of time for some good quality people watching. In fact, I think it is the best place to witness the strange melding of cultures, ages and demographics that comprise this great country of ours.

I will say, however, that there are quite a few oddballs out there.

Case in point:

I was sitting at Newark Liberty International Airport, my second home these days, waiting patiently for a seriously delayed flight. I saw a well-dressed 30-something man with a backpack walk over to the bank of pay phones that were flanking the wall behind my seat. At first my thought was, 'Huh. I didn't know people still used pay phones anymore.' And then I watched him. He slowly, but deliberately, put his finger and thumb inside each change slot and felt around for a spare quarter, dime or other un-retrieved coin. One by one, he checked the change return of each phone. Finding nothing, he just walked away and sat down to await his flight. Three men and I were all watching him, and we all exchanged glances and made faces of 'Okaaay. That was strange.' while we pondered his rationale. Then the man nearest to me, who was likely 60+ in a neatly tailored business suit, said aloud, "Now that's going on my Facebook page." I wasn't sure whether to laugh, or nod in agreement. This is one strange and amusing world.

And yet another example:

While wandering around in SoHo last Wednesday, enjoying the fact that I had a day of no meetings, only one conference call (that I conducted while sipping a cold drink seated on a park bench bask in in the shade of a large tree) and no travel companions or clients to entertain, I explored an area of NYC that I'd never seen before. I traipsed up and down side streets, got intentionally lost only to consult my pocket map unabashedly playing the role of tourist, I window shopped at the fancy stores and actually shopped at the affordable boutiques, and I luxuriated in a long lunch inside a cafe with the garage-door-style front wall wide open, sipping chilled white wine and loving the taste of a ladylike lunch by myself. As I stopped at a Starbucks to use their restroom (I bought a drink out of sheer and unnecessary guilt), I waited patiently in the line for the use of one of the unisex bathrooms. A scruffy and unwashed man in many layers of dirty clothing was in line in front of me. Having a full-blown conversation with himself. As I eavesdropped, I could tell that at least one of his personalities was not happy with the other. There seemed to be a fight on the verge of breaking out. I stepped back, cautiously, in the event that words became blows. Lucky for me, the restroom door opened, and the man entered the one-seater restroom and locked the door, revealing the 'Occupied' sign above the door handle. Silently thinking (and feeling a bit ashamed for feeling it), I looked longingly at the other door in clear hopes that the door would open before the one with our fighting man inside. No such luck - the door of the stall with the man inside opened wide, and in a loud voice, he announced to me that I should beware that the man before him must have "peed all over the walls in there" and that I "shouldn't touch anything or sit down." Now I'm all in favor of a friendly stranger's heads up, and would certainly heed his advice. I gingerly opened the door (I was desperate, and couldn't stand to wait for the other room to become available) and saw that nothing seemed out of place. The walls, fortunately, were not dripping, and the floors were scrubbed clean and dry. Since I know better than to ever sit on a public restroom seat, I took normal precautions, finished up and washed and dried my hands. Exiting the restroom, my 'restroom advisor' was standing outside the room waiting for me. He loudly berated me for not listening to him and for using the restroom despite his advice. I scurried past him, hoping to avoid a confrontation. The Starbucks employees watched me leave in a hurry, only to have my "friend" shout across the entire coffee shop - which was full - "I hope you get a VD for not listening to me!" Yep. That's what he said. I didn't look back - I can only imagine what the other patrons must have thought. Shaking from anger and shame, I stepped out into the sunshine and continued my trek through the unfamiliar neighborhood. Without a VD to speak of, mind you.

So, if nothing else, being a frequent business traveler has reminded me of one truth in life:

There are a lot of really strange people out there. Some act funny. Some talk to themselves. Some yell at you. Some don't shower. Some have quirky habits. Some give you unsolicited advice.

And, some cute young gentlemen will sit next to you in first class, while you're gloating about the surprise upgrade into the larger seat with free wine, and will offer you a pen with which to embark on your crossword. And, he will celebrate with you when you solve the tough clues. He will smell manly and good seated elbow to elbow with you, and his eyes will sparkle in the dim overhead lighting as he smiles at you, and he will remind you (without saying a word) that you are attractive, and will find other men attractive again. He will not, however, encourage you to work up the nerve to ask him his name, or where he's from, or where he's going.

I guess that makes me the oddball here.

Next time.

MIA

Clearly I have been a bit absent. MIA, totally.

Not only from this blog, but from a lot of my social life. I have had a hard time balancing the new pressures and obligations of my new job with the fun choices and people in my personal life.

I have heard more often than I'd like to admit that people miss my blog, and wish I was writing more often. I want to! I promise!!

It has just been hard to find the time. When I was working at the last agency, and things were WAAAY slowed down in terms of workload, I found the time in the afternoon, or over lunch, or in the evenings from home. I was able to keep you updated on the funny, the ridiculous and the mundane details of my life.

Unfortunately, lately, I believe that my social life has been a bit MIA.

And, my free time at work. As you likely know (from previous posts) my job has me traveling up to New Jersey quite a bit - almost every week or twice a month at least - and that has changed the tempo of my week quite a bit. Either I'm packing to go (laundry, etc.) or I'm unpacking (or avoiding it) or I'm sitting in a hotel in New Jersey after a long day of traveling or meetings, with about 15 minutes to myself before I have to turn in for the night only to rise early and start over.

I have had a lot of fun, in the professional sense, getting a hang of my new responsibilities, managing the stress and the deliverables, meeting new people and seeing new products/projects come to fruition.

In addition, quite frankly, I have gotten to stay in pretty swanky hotels, dine at some pretty amazing restaurants and enjoy some fun perks. I have had the luxury, through business travel, to spend a week in South Beach at the Shore Club, a week at The Palace in New York and a week at Casa del Mar in Santa Monica; dinners at Nobu in two cities, nights at the Salt Creek Grill in Princeton, sushi at Katsuya in Hollywood; a pampering evening at The Butterfly Studio in New York courtesy of Health magazine, a happy hour with the Neutrogena team; and other choice opportunities.

I have been given freebies that range from free women's magazine subscriptions to skincare and haircare products to a blowout and style at a hair salon to a brand new Mercedes Benz SUV rental car and upgrades to first class that include wine and warm cocktail nuts and hot towels. I'm earning American Airlines frequent flier miles by the thousands, almost every week.

But honestly?

I have missed out on quite a few things at home.

This new schedule, and my mindset throughout it all, has enabled me (notice I took the blame) to pull deeper inside my "cocoon" when I am home. It has enabled me to justify hiding from the very things that would have made this time more fun and easier to handle. It has allowed me to justifiably avoid making the phone calls that connect me to my girlfriends, reschedule or cancel first dates that I should have wanted to go on, ignore the nagging urge to write a blog since the last thing I want to do is sit in front of the computer again, and avoid the fun social activities that happen here in Chicago during the week.

I couldn't sign up for a rec sports league for the summer (I usually play beach volleyball or softball) because I can't commit to a certain evening a week without throwing money away. I didn't sign up for the painting class that I took last spring for fear of wasting the class registration fee. I have rescheduled a swap party I'm hosting three times, and fear that this time, the girls will think I'm the boy that cried wolf and won't actually come.

My social life has gone MIA, and it is time to take it back.

With that, I vow to be more actively authoring new posts here. And while I enjoy the comments and the praise I get from my readers (the total of whom have likely dwindled down to three), it is more about the creative expression I feel from writing. The joy of looking at the world differently, absorbing the hilarity and the mundane with a post forming in my head.

My mood is different. I am reconnecting with lost friends. I am finding out what I missed in the last few months while I was sitting in Newark Liberty International Airport. I'm making plans. I'm giving gifts. I'm meeting guys. I'm flirting. I'm laughing. I'm milking the weekends. I'm helping my sister plan her wedding. I'm smiling again.

You can take down the posters off the telephone pole. I'm back.