It All Depends

People always talk about love as "unconditional."

Turns out, there's nothing unconditional about it.

Even the love shared between family members has conditions put on it. With long-term friendships, there are rules to the game. Boundaries you must respect, actions you have to take, protocol you must follow, lines in the sand you must draw.

People will hurt you. They will pull away. Friends need time to heal and figure out their own issues. Family will say things that they don't mean. Loved ones will act as if they are less than that, loved ones.

The conditions of the love are there, whether or not we're willing to acknowledge them.

You have to call every so often, so the friend knows that they're in your thoughts. You have to say the right thing, so the person knows how you feel. You have to be honest with yourself, to own you role in the disaster that has become normal. You have to respect the facts that face you, even if they tell you that everything you know is based on misconceptions. You have to try, put forth the effort, to go the extra mile, to answer the phone, to reach out. To give.

There's nothing unconditional about love.

Like anything else worth having in life, it comes fraught with conditions.

If only there was a manual for this game.

Gap Born to Fit Party & GIVEAWAYS!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had the privilege to host a Gap Born to Fit party last night. Gap is celebrating its 40-year anniversary this year, and to celebrate, has re-engineered its 1969 jeans line in all new fits, styles and washes. And was it ever a good time!

As a Brand Enthusiast, I was able to invite quite a few lucky girls to attend - and was fortunate to have Brenna host the event. We energetically (at least in spirit!) climbed the 59 steps up to her gorgeous home (guided by my motivational signs, of course.



At the top, the girls were treated to a full spread of goodies courtesy of Gap. The guests had no idea what was in store for them...


First, I asked each girl to don a nametag, since not everyone knew each other.

In order to make it more fun, I added a "I was born to________." line for each girl to fill out. Apparently my friends are born to Eat, Shop, Laugh & Giggle, Dance, Dominate Traffic, Photograph, Give Big Hugs, Draw, and more. (I was Born to Boogie - so says my Mom - since she went into labor while at a disco. Explains a lot, doesn't it?)

We munched on appetizer treats, including "Born to Snack" popcorn (served in the darling branded bowl) and "Born to Indulge/Shop/Play/Love" M&Ms, and other enticing splurges.


The soundtrack for the evening's festivities was provided by yours truly; I handpicked and made "Girls, Denim & (No) Blues" CDs for each guest, and only slightly tweaked the song titles to fit the theme for the evening.



See below for the full playlist. No judging - the songs were chosen for their fit!


Before we dove into the jeans and the full-fledged shopping extravaganza, we gathered on the roofdeck to enjoy the gorgeous Chicago sunset.





With a roofdeck like Brenna (and her fantastic husband) owns, we were all seated comfortably around and could talk. I gave a quick, highly unprepared speech about what the party was about - and answered questions about Gap, the 1969 Born to Fit jeans, how I was selected and what was required of them (pretty much this: pick jeans, love jeans, shop Gap).





When the sun had fully set, we descended to the kitchen/Gap Jeans Bar to check out the jeans. Don'tcha just like the sound of that? Gap Jeans Bar. I know. Combines my two favorite things, too. As shown at the top of the post, there were the Sexy Boot in a medium wash, the Always Skinny in a dark wash and the Real Straight in a medium wash.


The girls and I immediately noticed - these weren't your Mom's jeans. If anyone walked into the party with a preconceived notion of what Gap jeans were like, they changed their mind pretty quickly. All ideas were changed fully as soon as the first girl tried them on. Wow! Each girl was stunned to see how long, lean, slim, stylish and, well, FIT they looked in them. Each style, each size, each wash - all the same. Perfect fits!


And the fabric, stitching, inseam, cut and general make of the jeans was far more detailed than ever before - the medium wash is incredibly soft - those jeans you could wear all day at work or to Target on a Saturday; the dark wash is perfect for a night out with heels or a casual brunch with flip flops.

Knowing my girlfriends, they are a hip bunch. They shop a lot, they like designer jeans, they love to look good (what woman doesn't?) and they will spend more if they think it is necessary to get the right quality and the right fit. I think the trying-on process proved to each girl that these ARE designer jeans - at everyday prices.

I loved watching each girl choose one or two pairs, head back to the Born to Fit(ting) rooms and come out to model their pick.



Looking good, huh? Born to Fit indeed!


Catwalking was not required, but everyone seemed happy to strike a pose.

I was the proud mama watching each girl squeal in delight to realize they fit in a smaller size, or could finally love a skinny jean!, or could even wear THOSE heels with the bootcut pair. I was proud to be able to show these girls the way. Thanks, Gap.

After the try-on session, we indulged in Giordano's thin crust pizza - a Chicago staple. Shopping works up an appetite! As an aside, I loved watching my friends, from all different circles or times of my life, mix and mingle together. All in the name of good jeans.

As the night wound down, I made sure each girl had gotten the pair of their dreams - and if not, I made sure to send them home with a Jeans certificate good for a pair of their choice at Gap. Some of the bootcut sizes were awfully long (not everyone in my life is, ahem, 5'12"), but most opted to take the pair and have them hemmed to just the right length - when they are free, it isn't much of a splurge!

Finally, each guest got to take a Born to Fit reusable tote bag for their goods - another great idea by Gap - and they were more than happy to mug for photos with 'em.



I may be born to blog, or boogie, or host parties, or tell long stories, or wear LONG jeans, or stay up late, or drink wine, or love Macs, or eat french fries, or miss Georgia...

But seriously?

My girls are Born to Fit in with one another.

Hugging their new friends, and clutching their new gifts, they embarked on the 59 steps down to leave for the night.




Thanks to all who attended, and especially to Justine from Brand About Town for allowing us the opportunity to try Gap's new jeans and enjoy one another. Check out the full set of pictures from the party here.

I certainly think we've proved to a lot of girls that Gap jeans are hip, cool, stylish, comfortable, sexy and made for every body. They are worth a second look if you've not been to Gap in awhile, and if you have, stop back in and check 'em out! You may never spend money on designer jeans again.

But wait! Don't go!

What's in it for you?

I have a contest. I have two prizes to award: a certificate for a FREE PAIR of Gap Jeans of your choice, and a $50 gift certificate for use at any Gap store.

What's the deal?

By Monday at 7 pm CT, tell me (in the comments) what YOU were born to do. I will choose, in a highly subjective, entirely random manner, the top two answers, and will re-post your answer in a special Born To blog next week, along with the prize announcements.

Ok. Got that?

What were YOU Born To do? Get creative. This isn't just "work." or "breathe." This has to be something CLEVER.

Jeans and Gap shopping is on the line, people!

All you blog lurkers (defined as those that visit but don't comment) are free to come out of the woodwork now! Thanks again Gap.

You and I? We're Born to Fit.

Dressing the Part

I have a new theory about my social life.

Well, it is likely more than a theory by now.

I have empirical proof. Evidence.

It's real.

No, faithful readers and loyal friends (and sister), it is NOT about The Vortex.

(If you have no idea what that is about, ask me and I'll compose a new post about it. It's juicy. And also proven.)

Nope. This time it is more about social planning.

Here's my theory:

There are those nights that you're tired, feeling unattractive, dressed in a B-team outfit, having a bad hair day, bloated, hungover, stressed out, or just plain don't want to do anything but beeline for your own couch to hide in the comforts of home.

Yes. We ALL know those nights. For me, of late, they come during the week (it hurts too much to go out on a school night anymore), or more often, on a Friday night after a crazy wild deadline-filled week at work.

Friday nights are supposed to be fun. Festive. Relaxing. They call it happy hour for a reason. However, for me, I find it hard to muster up the energy for it all.

BUT.

It is on THOSE nights that you a) meet the most interesting people, b) laugh the hardest, c) dance the most, d) feel the sexiest, e) and have the absolute best time ever.

I'm telling you. Not once, or twice, but three times in the last two weeks has this theory been proven.

Now. Without telling TOO much information (as if that's ever stopped me before), I'll tell you this. One recent Thursday, I was minding my own business at work, glancing at the clock readying for quittin' time, when I got a little instant message from a friend. He offered Cubs tickets. For that night. Since it was the holiday weekend, I know it was technically a weekend, but it still felt like a random Thursday night to me. I was tempted to decline politely, and just couch-sit with the recent Netflix arrival (finally watching "The Tudors"!). But, no.

Something made me accept the offer, and join the three guy friends at the game. It was my first of the season, and the seats were fantastic. The weather was perfect - warm, but not hot; breezy, but not cold. The beer went down like water, and the hot dogs were grilled to perfection. The Cubs hit an out of the park grand slam to win the game. We sang "Go Cubs Go" and waved the infamous "W" flag all the way down the block. See?


Which is where we saw Alfonso Soriano (Cubs left fielder) driving south on Clark Street, rolling in style in his white Rolls Royce. I was walking right next to his car, which sadly, despite all indications that he should have had company, did not have a hot "Cribs"-style chick riding shotgun. Emboldened by the Old Style, I knocked on his window, and he rolled it down. We chatted, I congratulated him, and he laughed. With me! See?


That never would have happened if I'd stayed on my couch. And all of that happened with me in a baseball hat, tennis shoes, frayed jeans and a plain grey t-shirt.

My second example came the following Saturday night. Laura and I got all dressed up. We were lookin' good. I pulled out a new dress, given to me by Kristen, and even donned the black high heels. My hair was good. The makeup was spotless. We were hotttt.

And, the bar was empty.

Seriously.

It got "maxed out" at about 11 people. Total. And this is a place that usually has so many good looking people crammed into it by midnight that it renders conversation impossible.

But, not this night. Because we were ready, willing and looking for fun.

It was not meant to be.

My final case in point came this past Friday night. It was about 4 o'clock. My office technically had been closed since 1 pm for summer hours, but I'd been restrained hammering out a PowerPoint deck for my boss. I didn't mind that badly - I had no plans. The couch was calling my name. I even had some wine to open.

Kristen had other plans. She suggested, via instant message, that I join her and a few other girls at Hub 51 for happy hour. At 5 pm.

Since I had on an A- outfit, and hadn't yet piled my hair up into a messy knot that was unforgiving and irretrievable, I agreed to go. Come on, girls - you know what I mean. I'm not THAT vain, but Hub 51 is known for the chic, trendy folks looking good.

I joined Kristen at the table (a feat unto itself) and settled in for a calm girls' night. We were then joined by Jill, and then by three other lovely lady friends who were clearly out for the night of fun and debauchery. We laughed. Conversation flowed. We caught up, joked, reminisced and told stories. The food came, and was delicious and perfect.

Then, Jill and the others left me and Kristen to finish our night, and we thought it would be coming to a close soon. This was at about 8 pm - a solid happy three hours.

We had another thing coming. Two gentleman, whom I'd noticed checking us out (or were they after our huge table?) promptly visited, asked permission to join us, and brought with them hilarious stories (some true, some of the made-up variety), guessing games, "the name game," the "where are you from" storytelling hour, references to recent and past history, jokes, toasts, and more drinks. The hours were ticking by, but who had time to notice?

All I could see was the night turning into one of the most fun, and most satisfying, I'd had in a long while. These guys were classy, smart, funny, interesting, humble and, not least of all, attractive. One caught my eye in particular, and it turned out that his mother and my mother were just one grade apart at a certain private high school in St. Louis. He and I were even born at the same hospital for crying out loud. It was destiny. Or at least a good omen for a fun night.

I was convinced to store my 50-lb work bag downstairs at Sub 51 in a booth while we toasted, danced and literally "brought the party" to the basement dance club. I was spun all over the tiny dance floor, knocking into people and being asked by a dorky bachelor party from Maine to "make his night - he's getting married in two weeks." I didn't, don't worry.

Laughing until I was almost crying, I learned and tried out dance moves that no white girl should attempt. And succeeded, almost unilaterally. At least no one got hurt, myself included. I had met two really nice guys, who were perfect gentlemen, and didn't expect it at all.

Knowing when to say when (and not tempt fate or my "I fixed it at 7 am this morning makeup and hair"), I said my goodbyes, got a quick kiss, and left at the stroke of midnight to scramble into a waiting cab.

Flying northbound on Lake Shore Drive, I caught myself beaming.

See?

Yet another perfect example that life is like that. If you plan it too much, or get too fancy, or try too hard, it isn't meant to be.

It is what John Lennon said about the generation he, in part, symbolized - "Nothing happened in the sixties except that we all dressed up."

Sometimes, you end up just dressing the part.

And other nights? You're enjoying life as it comes.

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.

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!)

Openly Giving Thanks

This time of year is my favorite. Gathering family and friends to eat, drink, laugh, watch football and relax together. What's not to like?

Traditionally, I would be also using this festive time to buy a boatload of gifts for those family and friends, including hostess gifts for the parties I'll attend and wine and ornaments for those who allow me to stay in their home.

Clearly, money is tight this year (tight is probably an understatement) so the gifts will be light. However, I can still express my thanks and appreciation to people in this forum.

Therefore, on this most American of holidays, let me openly give thanks.

Open hearts.
I am thankful most of all for the people in my life that make it worthwhile. Those in my life who love unconditionally; those who support me through the ups and the downs; those special people who allow themselves to be vulnerable, trusting in the future despite the unknown; those who care and aren't afraid to express it; those who make me laugh, let me cry and tell me I'm going to be ok.

Open minds.
Speaking as a casualty of this hard economy, I am thankful for the open minds of the American people to look beyond the norm, the comfortable and the easy to nominate and elect the right person for the job. I am inspired, excited and invested more than ever before in the future of this country, and believe that we are armed to attack the problems head on. And, as with any other relationship, I trust and have faith that the best is yet to come.

Open arms.
Is there anything easier to be thankful for than the welcoming arms of a giant hug? This is also a thank you to those who have, or will, host me throughout this holiday season. As one who lives 1,000 miles from her immediate family, it is a privilege and a joy to visit with and stay in the homes of extended family and the family of those I care about. I look forward to toasting, laughing, sharing and dining with my aunt and uncles, cousins and Brett's family this year. It will be delicious in every sense of the word.

Open doors.
I hate to do it, but this one is tangible. I am thankful for the doors of the fridge opening, revealing plates of turkey glazed to perfection, stuffing that is fluffy yet crispy, potatoes that are mashed and delightful, pumpkin pie and other pastries that are sugary and scrumptious and for the wine, beer and cider to flow to accompany the feast. I can't help it, but I have been anxiously awaiting the food, and the leftovers, for days. Maybe it is partly due to the unemployed diet of grilled cheese, soup, cereal and pasta, but I'm game.

Open windows.
With the overused metaphor, I would also like to be thankful for the windows that open when a door closes. With a fervor that is usually reserved for a slick salesman, I have been networking, contacting, communicating, following up, emailing, calling, touching base with and reaching out to everyone that I know in this industry, and it is working. I am not yet working, but I trust that that is still to come.

I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving and hope that you are sharing the time with your family, friends and loved ones. I am thankful that you all have allowed me this creative forum, this place to share my feelings, this expression of my opinions, stories and aforementioned ups and downs.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,

Colleen

Electronics Grudge Match

Last week, I was given a digital converter box for each TV in my condo by the friendly local RCN representative who had stationed herself in the community room of my building's lobby. The instructions were simple. The activation was immediate. The results were easy.

Even when I threw in the curveball that I currently have a Tivo box in my living room. She assured me that it wouldn't be more than a call to Tivo to get them to "read the new signal." All was supposed to go well.

Instead, it was pretty much like this:



For four hours last night, plied with a homemade salad and two bottles of shiraz, my friend Mike was kind enough to help. He immediately rolled up his sleeves and buried his head inside my armoire. Cables were flying, dust was everywhere. He reattached everything, streamlined a few unnecessary plug-ins, relocated my wireless internet router and cable modem for maximum efficiency, and hid it all nicely behind plants and photo frames.

He even made the dreaded phone call to RCN to ask the techie questions that I don't understand. And to initiate a new "ping" of my cable boxes (which trust me, sounds far sexier than it was in real life). The best part of the evening was this, and forgive me, but it was just funny. Don't judge.

The RCN guy was asking Mike to test a few channels on the living room TV to ensure that the signal was coming through properly to give me extended cable. He asked Mike to confirm that WBBM was on Channel 2. Yes. He asked Mike to confirm what was appearing on Channel 101, which was supposed to be BET.

Mike paused, turned toward the TV from his spot near the window (the only place to get clear cell phone reception in my condo, don't get me started) and replied, "On 101, it should be BET? Well, it's totally black."

Brett, occupying himself quietly on the lounge chair, muttered under his breath, "No pun intended."

Sadly, it was the highlight. We laughed so hard that I moved too quickly and kicked the trunk at the foot of my bed while racing back into the living room to laugh with them. I think I broke my pinkie toe. No, seriously. I'm limping.

Back to Mike and his superpowers. In short, he was very cheap tech support. Who actually knew what he was doing. And was willing to stay for dinner.

I didn't lift a finger. I found the right cable in my "box o' cables" when called upon to do so. I dug out my TV's instruction manual when that was necessary. I handed him the dustrag and the spray cleaner and I am pretty sure he (or Brett) even did that part for me.

All in all, it was a stressful night of electronics vs. man.

Unfortunately, my electronics seem to have a communications problem. They don't get along.

The free digital cable converter box that RCN provided me clearly is a closed-minded snob. He doesn't want to cooperate with the foreign outsider that is my Tivo component box. Who, incidentally, is a stubborn pile of silver plastic. Maybe they need couples counseling? Maybe I should throw them into the ring to see who would win?

Bottom line?

The RCN box will only send out one signal. The Tivo needs two in order to record two things at once. To make matters worse? The Tivo won't read a channel changed on the cable box without a fancy $18.98/month box from RCN. Which is added to the monthly cable payment that is already a bit on the high side.

So, my solution was clear. Ditch Tivo, and convert to a RCN DVR for my Tivo-like needs.

Sounds simple enough, no? I call Tivo to cancel the arrangement with them. Not so fast, little lady. Tivo has me locked into a 3-year contract, in which I've only completed two years. It would cost me $155 and change to get out of it. Basically, the $12.95 a month for a year for a service I can't use because my electronics are disagreeable.

I can only imagine how the little old ladies in my building are handling this "simple transition" to digital cable.

I'm in a building where I have no choice over the cable provider. I can't change the way the building is wired. I can't do much except call RCN and beg them to send me a fancy new converter box on the off chance that it will play nicely in the sandbox with my Tivo, which may be a lost cause.

In summary, I can't do anything but throw components and their matching remotes out the 13th story window. Which would have been my idea of "solving the problem" had Mike not stopped me.

Clearly that doesn't fix anything.

But it would have felt really good to see a host of electronics smashed to smithereens down on the sidewalk, wouldn't it?

I should have had more wine.

The Weekend of Fs

Like the snowbirds in January, I'm heading South!

Even though it isn't quite winter yet, this Chicago gal is flocking southward for the weekend.

Brett and I alight on Atlanta this weekend for Family, Friends, Football and Food and I can't wait. It seems to be the F weekend. Let's examine:

F#1: Family
We will be staying with my parents, and he'll be meeting my Dad. Let's hope the men in my life get along, and are on their best behavior. I'm sure it will go smoothly...but in the deep, dark recesses of my mind, I have visions of my Dad answering the door in overalls polishing a shotgun. I have visions of him asking, "What are your intentions with my daughter?" or asking Brett to detail the branches on his family tree, and Brett flushing redder than my shoulders after a long day in the sun.

My Family Tree?
I get to meet my sister's darling new boyfriend, George, this weekend. I've heard so much about him, seen so many photos, and been on the receiving end of some great stories of their time together, and now I get to put him to the test in real life. What kind of questions are the responsibility of the older (questionably wiser) sibling? Do tell, I'm curious. And taking notes.

F#2: Friends
As you've read in many a post, I have a great group of friends with whom I've been linked (for better or worse!) since we were all single digits, wearing braces and rookies in all things life. We've experienced highs (graduations, marriages, babies, birthdays, new houses, new jobs and great haircuts) and lows (deaths, moving away, car accidents, illness, job losses, heartbreaks and our favorite shows going off the air) together. All while managing to keep things interesting (read: Posse Grudge Matches every so often) and fun (read: vacations to foreign lands together).

The Posse, on our best behavior.
I will have the fortunate privilege to re-introduce Brett to many friends that he met in June when we were in Costa Rica, and introduce him for the first time to many new faces. I'm not making a PowerPoint deck to brief him this time (yes, I did), so he's on his own. He can call them all "Buddy" and "Dude" and it will go just fine.

F#3: Football
We will be caravanning east from Atlanta, heading towards the cutest little big college town in the world, Athens Georgia. I love nothing more than showing off this amazing gem to a virgin visitor. Especially in the fall, with all of the grasses green, the leaves changing and the winds lightly blowing. Campus will be at her best. I can't wait to exit off Highway 316 and revel at the new construction and say "That wasn't there when I was here!" a hundred times, to tread softly across the North Campus Quad, to duck behind the East Campus Railroad bridge for a moment in the shade, to drive slowly down Milledge Avenue gawking at the antebellum mansions we Greeks called home, to hoof it over to the new(ish) Student Center Quad to marvel at the new developments there, to stand on Gillis Bridge looking into the end zone of Sanford Stadium where the hedges lie in wait.

Heaven on Earth.
And, there my friends, will be the game. The Georgia Bulldogs vs. the Tennessee Volunteers. We at UGA hate the color orange for a reason (UT, UF, Auburn, etc.) and it will be a Red Sea like no other on Saturday. I long to hear Brett laugh as I call the Dawgs. Despite the season's one disappointment (a memory I'm trying to erase), the Dawgs make us proud, and the SEC colleges know how to tailgate properly to prepare for it. It will be glorious. Go Dawgs!

There is still an outside chance that we'll be able to see the Chicago Bears take on the Atlanta Falcons in the Georgia Dome on Sunday. Not sure if my sister's ticket contacts are going to pull through, but wouldn't that be cool? And, oddly enough, both teams are in first place in their respective division, so it could even be a good game. Go Bears!

F#4: Food
Living in the country's third largest city, one would think we'd have access to everything. Sadly, this is not true for a few critical items of culinary deliciousness. Sweet tea, for example. Can't get it here. In fact, they think you're weird if you ask for it. McDonald's is trying, but who goes to McDonald's for a cold one? I'm hearing rumor of a new treat in the south called Sweet Tea Vodka (STV for short) that is making its rounds. I plan to test it and will share my thoughts. If I have any that are worth repeating.

If only I had a porch and a rocker.
And then there's Chick-fil-A. I've talked about my love for this fast-food but not-fast-food outlet before. I just can't understand why it would be so hard to franchise them here in the city limits of Chicago? Ponder that while I dream about the waffle fries, the lemonade and the lightly breaded, not fried, chicken sandwich. Or chicken biscuit, if you're there early enough in the day. You can practically taste it, can't you?

We may also have a chance to stop by The Varsity, on our way through downtown, tomorrow before we do the touristy things I have planned, or on Sunday on our way back to the airport. Nothing like leaving town with a full belly of hot dogs and french fries at one of the country's oldest drive-throughs, smelling like grease all the way back on your Airtran flight.

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As you can see, I'm ready. Real photos and stories will be shared when I return.

I think this will be one great "F-ing" weekend. Probably NOT the example they'd use on Sesame Street on the "F" day.