Cut Me Some Slack....Please?

…in other words: The story of my life…every day this week…if my name were Alex.

Forgive this moment of self indulgence but I really just need a minute to vent. In a nutshell, nothing, I repeat, NOTHING has gone right this week.

Last weekend I came down with some freak stomach bug that left me in a bad way from Saturday afternoon on. I’ll spare you the gory details – it wasn’t pretty.

It takes your body some time to recover from that though, and, as a result, I’ve been exhausted and incapable of getting any truly restorative sleep during this hell week.

Monday:
In thinking about the events of the past few days, I need to make one minor adjustment to the aforementioned; not everything went wrong. Monday night was fantastic! The ManBoy and I made an absolutely scrumptious meal of carne asada, corn, and roasted vegetables. I’m telling you, I impressed myself on this one. We watched West Wing and snuggled {I know, gross ;-)} - It was really great!

Tuesday:
Tuesday though, he and I had plans for a long overdue date night. We’re the couple that has made it a commitment of ours to, every so often, set aside a night exclusively for us – date night! Restaurant Week is coming to an end in New York, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for a romantic night out. We had reservations at Tribeca Grill and I’d spent the better part of the work day mentally rummaging through my closet for the perfect outfit.

Along comes 5:00pm. The ManBoy’s boss drops the bomb that “tonight is gonna be a late one”. Really bossman? Really? Reservations: Cancelled. (Ugh)

Meanwhile, I too got stuck on a project at work that kept me there past the time at which we should have been arriving arm in arm at the restaurant. Instead, I left the office at 8:00, trekked home to the city, ate a lonely dinner of leftovers and pork and veggie gyoza, watched a terrible movie on TV, and did an obscene amount of laundry.

Date. Night. Fail.

Wednesday:
Hump Day! Come on, things have got to go up from here. Of course not. Work put me through the ringer and I’ll leave it at that. {Luckily, I was fortunate enough to enjoy the company of the ManBoy, his sister, and her friend (both of whom just completed the New York Bar Exam – congratulations girls!) over burritos and sufficiently strong frozen margaritas. Needless to say, bed time came far too late and I am, once again, exhausted.}

Thursday:
The hits just keep comin’! Understandably, I was running a little late this morning (what with all those margaritas last night) and I was racing the clock to get to my car before the 8:00am street cleaning rules went into effect. I charged out of my building and low and behold what do I find? Two traffic cops standing at my car…clearly. I start shouting “stop stop stop I’m here!” No dice. {Allegedly, once you start writing the electronic ticket, you can’t stop…hmmm can we look into that please?}

Well, furious with the scenario and watching one of the two officers walk away from the car to fiddle with the ticket machine, my Jersey born and bred attitude kicked in. It was no secret that I was pissed at what was taking place. I continued to insist on the ridiculous nature of the ticket and that I was here at 8:00am on the dot to move my car. Needless to say, it didn’t help {New York is facing a budget deficit and this is their way of settling balances}.I hope those two sleep well at night knowing that ripping off the driving population is at the center of their life’s work. Good for you, fake cop.

Arghhhh!

So, after my futile attempt at fighting the inevitable, I yanked the ticket out of the officer’s hand and sped off. Jerks!

Then the tears came. Poor ManBoy gets a teary 8:07am phone call with me on the other end ranting and raving about a situation completely and utterly beyond his control. What a good guy – Lord knows what makes him stick around {Hey Roommates – Make no mistake, that was not an invitation for you to share your thoughts on the matter}.

Not thirty seconds after driving off, I find myself in the traffic jam of all traffic jams getting onto the FDR. I didn’t reach the highway for another 25 minutes (it should take about 60 seconds total to get from my apartment to the FDR). It can really go without saying, but I was very late for work today. Joy.

Over the course of the day, pieces of news have continued to filter in that have made the day go from bad to worse. My friends, who were planning on coming up from DC to the shore this weekend, had to cancel because they were told they need to work. The plans to spend happy hour with my girlfriends and our significant others this evening have fallen through. And, we’ve received word that my grandfather has become very ill…

Essentially, I just can’t catch a break…help?

Girls Gone....Mild

My little girls are growing up...

Last weekend was Beach Weekend '09 - The Reunion. Every year, five girlfriends who have been close since elementary school get together for a weekend of GCF (good-clean-fun) and, up until recently, boy-bashing (also known as “man-hating”).

As always, this year’s Beach Weekend was a success! But, amidst the quiet reflection that inevitably comes from comparing last year’s Facebook photos to this year’s (and the untagging that ensues), I couldn’t help but notice that something was different. We’d changed, and it wasn’t just a few pounds here or there, a new hair style (or color), or an increasingly developed fashion sense – we, for the first time, (vaguely) resembled adults.

{We also, unlike in years past, were all spoken for by seemingly appropriate male suitors. Good job ladies!}

Rather than taking to the streets (read “bars”) of Belmar, NJ for two nights straight, we opted for a calmer route: Cocktails out back by the dunes and genuinely taking time to catch up, and (get this) L I S T E N to the goings on of our friends’ lives. It was wonderful!

I found myself staring, in disbelief, at a group of young women whom I’d seen go through the ups and downs of life. We’ve laughed with each other, cried with each other, and been at each others’ sides when %#@! has hit the fan. We’ve each had front row seats to the dramas of each others’ lives since before I can remember and here we were, employed, paying bills, and planning our futures, all the while giggling as we always have.

As we made our way up from the Jersey Shore and the reality of the impending Monday morning commute settled in, I was left with an overwhelming feeling. Sleep deprivation aside, I was focused on how rare and special a thing it is that we share: A friendship that has withstood the tests of time, and I reckon, will continue to do so. The five of us could not be more different, and yet, rather than drift apart and succumb to the pressures of life that often tear at childhood friendships, we have stayed strong and connected to one another. We may not speak on a daily basis, but when we do, it’s as if not a moment has passed since last we caught up.

Later that night, as I settled in to recount the weekend's events to the ManBoy, I realized too that I was in a completely different place from just one year ago. Here I was, sitting across from the ManBoy I love, and with whom I am thrilled to be planning a life, speaking about my friends whom I’ve known since preschool. He listened, politely intrigued, as I described what had taken place. He couldn’t have felt more removed or out of context, but I sensed that, as I spoke, (unaware of whether he was listening or tuning me out) he learned things about my past that I hadn’t even thought to share with him.

Many of these girls he’s not yet met, (something that is about to change as the girls have planned a “meet and greet” happy hour with our significant others for next week) but, they have been witnesses to my life long before I even knew he existed. I can say, with absolute certainty, when I look back over my 23 years, that I have been in a state of constant evolution. And, while that transformation, I hope, has not yet come to an end, I am in a content and happy place, the likes of which I’ve never seen in my past. It’s a comfort to know though, regardless of what’s changed, that there are a select few who have been there for the whole ride. They have a unique perspective on my life and constantly remind me of how far I’ve come.

So ladies, I thank you. I love you all for who you were and who you’ve become. I love you for your uniqueness and your understanding. I love you for always being up for cocktails and a good laugh. But, most of all, I love you for your friendship.

Can God’s Love Save Anyone?

It has taken me a few days to write this post. I’ve needed time to allow the magnitude of what has been a life changing experience to sink in.

I recently, at the urging of my dear friend, Amanda, sat down to read the novel, Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. In my history as a student and a lover of books, not once has a piece of writing so profoundly affected me.

The novel is a retelling of the biblical story of Hosea and Gomer, set in the 1800s amidst the Gold Rush. The story tells of a man named Michael Hosea who sees and is instantly drawn to a harlot named Angel. The plot unfolds as Michael tries to convince Angel to leave her life at the brothel to be with him. Angel, having known no other life, does not want to be saved, nor does she trust that Michael has the capacity to be unlike all of the other men she’s ever known. Nevertheless, Michael remains steadfast in his commitment to helping her move on from her old life and teaching her about God’s love. Through Michael’s love for her, Angel experiences the salvation that comes from knowing the Lord.

The story is one that struck me to the core. I often found myself in tears for pages on end. Ms. Rivers’ ability to develop the soul of a character, to draw in her reader, and to establish a connection between the two is awe-inspiring. I felt uniquely close to the characters and was left with the sense that finally someone had expressed the feelings I’d not been able to for years.

The work is so inspiring I felt compelled to reach out to Ms. Rivers. Currently, I am in the process of drafting a letter to her thanking her for her writing and for providing me the tools to facilitate my next steps on a lifelong journey to completeness.

I understand that the work may not sound like everyone’s cup-of-tea, but I cannot impress upon you enough how revealing and truly transforming this story is. I urge you all to read it and I pray that as you experience Angel’s journey through the author’s words, you are, like me, left in some way changed.

This Just In...A Recant and Other News

This Just In…

In reference to my previous statement regarding the “must-see” status of Harper’s Island:

It is absolutely necessary, after having witnessed the season finale, that I recant my previous statement. Having been emotionally invested in this promising series for 12 weeks, it was extraordinarily disconcerting to watch the plot unfold in its final episodes. The ending, complete with scrambling for closure, untied loose ends, and an unconvincing unveiling of the killer, left me dissatisfied, to say the very least. {I’d like my money back please.} My sincerest apologies for misleading you…

Let the record show, however, that my predictions leading up to the finale, were almost 100% spot on.

In Other News…

Boys’ Weekend turned out just fine. The ManBoy, once again, proved himself a trustworthy, dedicated beau. A lucky lady am I.

Boys will be boys...

…what does that even mean?

When you Google Image that phrase, there is an immediate onslaught of photos of boys doing silly things and looking up girls’ skirts. Is that all they’re good for?

Now don’t get me wrong, the ManBoy is truly unlike any other boy I’ve ever met. {Note: Despite our generation’s commitment to the term “guy” which, let’s be honest, is just someone who is supposed to be acting like a Man but just can’t get past boyhood, I’m going to be as specific as possible here}. He is responsible and intelligent, thoughtful and caring, witty and level-headed. He is loyal and understanding. He is honest and he has unshakable integrity. What can I say? I. Lucked. Out.

It must also be noted that as dedicated a boyfriend as he is, he is also a fierce friend to many. His personality his magnetic and it is no wonder he has the multitude of friends that he does. He is a guys’ guy with a kind heart. You heard it here first ladies, they do exist! (But you can’t have him, he’s taken).

This weekend (and next) however, the ManBoy and I are crossing a new bridge, so to speak. The sign ahead reads “Boys' Weekend This Way”. {Slam on the breaks!} Did I read that correctly? Perhaps we made a wrong turn at “Couples' Weekend at the Beach” or maybe we should have made that right at “Date Night”. Nevertheless, with neither GPS nor road map, here we are streaming straight for that terrifying sign.

A slight over exaggeration, you say? Perhaps, but hear me out, will you?

{Side Bar: When the ManBoy’s roommates read this, and they will (curse you Google Reader), you can bet I’m going to be ridiculed for it}

In the 9 months (yesterday) we’ve been dating, we, of course, have had our fair share of Boys’ or Girls’ Nights Out, reluctant weekends apart, and time spent with each other’s friends. We have not, however, encountered what we are about to this weekend and next.

Last night the boys boarded a plane headed for Palm Beach, Florida. And we’re not talking some run down, all I need is a bed, bathroom and beer fridge motel in Florida (though I don’t believe those exist in Palm Beach), we’re talking the Ritz Carlton Resort. {If the boys’ weekend in Florida is the wound, the Ritz is the salt}.

Before you jump down my throat for taking what undoubtedly sounds like a critical tone, I will admit that I’m not too proud to confess my jealousy. I mean, come on, who wouldn’t want to spend a long weekend at the Ritz?

The jealousy I can get past – it’s really not that. It’s this other nameless, faceless, nagging feeling with which I’m grappling. And NO, it’s not trust issues either. I trust the ManBoy to the ends of the earth (please see above description…no trust issues there). But it’s something – the “worst case scenario” playing on loop in my head.

I’m sure it will be a weekend of boys and beer, golfing and goofing-off but there’s always a chance of something going awry.

I’ve received a number of different opinions on the matter, many of which can be summed up to “boys will be boys”. But, I have to admit, I’ve always taken issue with that phrase. I’d like to give my ManBoy a bit more credit than that…

What do you think?


P.S. In the spirit of full disclosure, next weekend is The Annual Beach Weekend Reunion. Each summer I get together with a group of girls with whom I’ve been friends since elementary school. We spend the weekend at the shore catching up and sunning ourselves on the beach (drink in hand, of course). However, though we’ll be basking in the glory of my roommate’s beautiful shore house, it is a far cry from the Ritz…just saying.

P.P.S. Just because I need to share…I just received the following e-mail from the ManBoy’s mother:

Jac ...
I know you're probably lonely on this "boys' weekend" but it's a good time for facials and pedicures and pampering yourself ... and if you're staying in the city, live by my motto: "Buy Shoes!"

Call or email me anytime - or with any news from Our Favorite Golfer.

How much do we love her? So much!

It's A (Jersey) Shore Thing

Happy Friday to the Blogosphere! The sun is shining, my intern and I brought Dunkin' Donuts to the office this morning, and I'm headed down to the shore again this evening...not much to complain about...well...maybe just one thing...but we'll get to that in a later post.

First, a much deserved recap of last weekend; I hope everyone had an enjoyable Fourth. I certainly did.

Of course the weekend was spent down the shore at my parents’ house in Mantoloking, NJ. The photo, though slightly outdated as I have not yet uploaded new ones, is the view from the back of my house. Right on Barnegat Bay – Breathtaking!

We began our journey southward on Thursday evening, taking the train rather than braving the traffic that would have turned a short commute into an epic voyage. We arrived just in time for dinner. Burgers and sausage on the grill – Yummmm!

It’s incredible how the stress of the city, and of work, and whatever it is that’s nagging at you can instantly fall away upon entering that house. The sound of the bay lapping against the dock, the smell of the grill, and the warmth of family – it’s my sanctuary in the summer, and each weekend I take refuge in its keeping.

Friday was spent, like so many days at the shore, slowly waking up and eating breakfast, taking a much needed run, and moseying over to the beach. The ManBoy’s parents were en route from Massachusetts and, courtesy of the Christopher Columbus gene, took a scenic tour of the Garden State before finally getting back on track and arriving late in the afternoon.

It was such a pleasure to have them spending the weekend with us. They brought a dozen lobsters from the North Shore of Boston and cooked them up for the following day. We rode on the boat and basked in the splendor of summer. {I also may or may not have taken a spill into the bay…camera and sunglasses in hand…when a piece of the dock gave way beneath me. Needless to say, I was furious and am now in search of a brand new digicam…Ugh!} That evening we went to dinner and shut the place down. It was a perfect night – delicious food, great wine, close family, and sparkling conversation.

Saturday was another blissful day. We watched the Fourth of July Parade stroll right past the house; we waved flags and sat on folding chairs on the lawn. We went to the driving range and had cocktails and hors d' oeuvres on the front porch before our lobster dinner out on the back patio. The sunset ranked amongst the most beautiful I’ve seen and fireworks could be seen all around the bay. You truly can’t ask for much more.

On Sunday though, we woke with heavy hearts as the realization hit – as all good things do, the weekend had come to an end. Clinging desperately to every last moment of sunshine and relaxation, we said our goodbyes before heading back to the City. And, though I’m still trying to extract the pictures from a potentially fried memory card, the image has stayed with me. It was a weekend of time well spent with some of the people I treasure most in my life…not too shabby.

Happy Fourth of July!

Call me cheesy, or old fashioned, or sentimental, I don't care...I love this holiday! And not just because you get to take a day off from work, or drink beer at the beach, or grill up red meat to your heart's content...I think it's freakin' sweet to remember how great this country is and how fervently we fought for our Independence.

In relative terms, the United States of America is a teenager when compared with our international counterparts. And in that short time we have done great things. Of course, you intellectual cynics out there will undeniably say, "and we've done terrible things", and certainly I can agree with you. Our history, though triumphant, is spotted with blemishes and embarrassments. But, this day, this weekend, is not about harping on our failures, but rather to celebrate our many accomplishments as a nation.

These are troubled times. Unemployment has reached 9.5%, its highest level in a quarter of a century; the federal government has infiltrated our financial markets in ways we never thought possible; our parents and grandparents have witnessed the utter destruction of their wealth and the fruits of their labor; we are staring into the face of a disarming national debt, the likes of which this country has never known; and we are only beginning to recognize our generation's responsibility for paying it off.

It is in the midst of these alarming truths that we must take pause to acknowledge our strength as a nation. Though it may seem a difficult concept to grasp, we have made great strides since the crises of old, be they social, financial or international in nature. We have developed a resolve unmatched by enemies and allies alike and we are capable of leading this world out of its current financial turmoil. The bright, sophisticated, and innovative minds this country nurtures are its key to future stability and continued success.

So this year, no matter what your current state of employment, no matter how you are choosing to celebrate this day so often reserved for barbecues and beaches, try to remember its true meaning. Many wise individuals stood firm in their ideals and many great people fought and died so that we may know freedom. They gave of themselves so that we may say the United States of America is the greatest, most successful nation in the world. We are a strong country, we are a smart country, and we are a country that, while humbly admitting our great fault in creating this disconcerting financial debacle, will also emerge as the leader responsible for pulling the world out of it.

To my fellow Americans, Happy Fourth of July! Enjoy the weekend and take time to marvel in the splendor of this great nation...