It's not midnight here yet!

And I didn't forget. It's still June 22nd.

Happy birthday!

You know who you are.

My car, the archaeological dig

Today, I waved goodbye to the car I've had since March 2, 2001. The best car I've ever had. The car I'd had longer than all three of my previous cars combined, the car that needed under $2,000 in repairs over the course of the 8+ years I drove her. My Victoria. I cried all the way home, and then some.

She practically fell into my lap. I knew I wanted a Lumina - my mom had one and loved it, as did a few of her coworkers. My credit union preapproved me for a loan, provided the car fell into their acceptable range of model years. I was on a mission. I saw an ad in the paper, "Two Luminas New to Our Stock!" I called, and the price was right. Away we went to the small-town dealer.

I remember the test drive like it was yesterday. Prior to Victoria coming into my life, I'd had a few clunkers, and driving her for the first time, I felt like I'd entered The Promised Land. Black! Shiny! Classy! Holy crap, I'm a grownup! Driving down a back country highway, I looked over at the passenger side of the dash, saw the woodgrain trim and thought "I canNOT believe this is going to be my car!" I don't know what it was about the trim, but it wasn't anything that had been part of the "decor" of my previous vehicles. A couple of hours (and a trip back to the credit union for the check) later, she was mine.

Despite the fact that I'd lived with my then-boyfriend (now husband) for almost 3 years, this car was what finally made me feel like a grownup. I joked that driving a black sedan almost made me feel like I'd joined the mafia, but in reality, I finally just felt. Like. An adult. Victoria allowed me to get a real! decently paying! job in the Golden City at the End of the Highway, rather than toiling away for under $18K a year as a secretary at what was supposedly one of the highest-paying employers in the town (highest-paying doesn't mean crap at $8.45 an hour). A round trip to Madison - the west side, no less - just would not have possible in my previous vehicle. So I was driving a grownup car, making a grown-up wage at a grown-up job. Sure, there would be hardships in my future, but I was Going Somewhere.

When I cleaned her out for the final time this afternoon, I was reminded of just how much Living I'd done in that car. My cars sometimes double as mobile storage devices. If something's okay in the car, and I have no need for it to be in the house, it tends to stay in the car. In the glove compartment were a postcard I bought when we road-tripped to NY 3 weeks after 9/11, some silver rings I used to wear when I was in my "ring on as many fingers as I can" phase and a smushed penny from Navy Pier that I got when I went to visit a friend to whom I haven't spoken in 6 years. In the seat pockets behind the front seat, along with an atlas, were a couple of long-forgotten DVDs I'd won in some contest when I worked for the cable company. In the trunk was a leftover box of stuff from when I cleaned out my desk the day I left the cable company, AND a leftover bag of stuff from when I cleaned out my desk when I left the insurance company. Also in the trunk, I found some training materials from the company I work for now, but the materials were from the first time I worked there. I also found a silver plastic tray I'd used for food presentation during a bridal shower for a friend whose divorce was finalized 10 days ago.

And of course, the floral bead that's hung from the rearview mirror in every car I've owned.

All this history, and I sit here wondering why my eyes are puffy, my nose is red and I have a splitting headache, 9 hours after I saw her for the last time.

Thanks for the memories, Victoria. You were the best car I could have ever asked for.

Not sure this makes sense...

With so much attention focused on United Airlines' new policy requiring obese people to pay for two seats, I felt the need to weigh in (pun fully intended).

There's a reason I fly Midwest. Yes, a reason other than the fact that they offer several non-stop flights on a MKE-LGA route. Yes, other than the faboo chocolate chip cookies. My ass fits in the seats. It wouldn't if I flew any other airline, unless I paid many times the price to fly first class. If I take up two seats, I can see the need for me to purchase two seats.

I like Southwest's way of doing it - if the flight is not full, your second seat is refunded. That makes sense to me, because you could have just used one of the extra (empty) seats as your second seat. I've seen people use empty seats as workstations, purse holders, etc., with no extra charge, so why not a butt holder? ;)

The one thing that doesn't make sense to me about Southwest's policy is this: if two obese people are traveling together, they are each required to purchase an additional seat, despite the fact that except in the most extreme circumstances, they can sit side-by-side in the 3-seat block with the armrests up. The Q&A on their website lists the reason as "open seating cannot guarantee that there will be an entire row open for two Customers to sit together and share the middle seat on each leg of the trip." So then how do they know that with open seating, there will be two seats together for a "customer of size" traveling solo? Their answer to that question is "The Customer who has purchased two seats must be an active participant in preserving his/her additional seat. We encourage Customers of size to preboard to locate adequate seating..." So why exactly is it that two customers of size traveling together couldn't preboard so they could find 3 seats together?

Anyway, back to the original issue. If my body is larger than one seat, I don't have a problem paying a second fare. I'd be more comfortable anyway. The last time I was on a non-Midwest flight, I was incredibly uncomfortable, and highly embarassed - it's embarassing enough to have to ask for an extender (though I've gotten less embarassed about it as time has gone by - I mean, really, I'm not fooling anyone, so I doubt anyone is exactly floored when I ask). I'm uncomfortable enough as it is, anyway - the last time I flew, the woman sitting next to me texted a colleague not even 2 minutes after I sat down about how her greatest fear had been realized because she had this giant fat lady sitting next to her - and since it was Midwest, I didn't even come close to "spilling over into her seat," as some would put it (yes, I saw it. Yes, I'm nosy. So if you don't want the giant fat lady sitting next to you on your next flight to lean over and tell you to get over yourself because you're not so fabulous either, then don't bitch about her right in front of her face).

Now, if only I could get a refund when there's some free-footed toddler "invading my space" by kicking the back of my seat for the entire flight, that would be some progress.

Cardstock, you've ruined my plans!

Now that I've made good on the reason I spent pretty much zero dollars on scrapbooking supplies over the last 14 months or so, I decided I could buy a few little things on a recent trip to the store.

I got a couple of 4x6 cardstock mat stacks, with the intention of folding each sheet in half and making them into tiny little note cards - for a quick hello or thank you, for when you don't really have anything else to say.

As anyone who's worked for a printer or done a lot of paper crafting can probably tell you, there is a right way and a wrong way to fold paper. The fibers in a sheet of paper run in one direction, and if you fold across the fibers rather than with them, you'll get that funny, ripped-looking edge to your fold. Unfortunately, the only logical way to fold these pieces of cardstock is across the fibers. It's not pretty.

*sigh* Now I have to figure out what else I can do with them. I'm sure I'll come up with something, but I'm pretty disappointed.

Crankiness DEFIITELY unwarranted

In my last post, I talked about having to call my insurance company.

I think my phone has actually morphed into a giant Easy Button since then. After we got through the pleasantries, like the subscriber number and the date of service, my conversation with the claims rep went something like this:

Me: "Well, my policy has a $100.00 ER co-pay and no co-pay on labs, and I was looking at this EOB, and..."

Claims Rep: "WHOA!"

Me: "yeah, that's not right, is it?"

Claims Rep: "No, it's definitely not. But it's an easy fix! We'll get on it right away, and notify the hospital, too."

Other words were exchanged as well, but that's the gist of it. They didn't have a long hold time, either. Including dialing, IVR greeting, navigating the IVR, hold time and talking to the claims rep, my total time invested in this was probably less time than it took to write this post.

Hooray!

At least there's a 50% chance this will be easy

There was an ER visit in the Pithy Title household last month (don't worry, we're all fine). Our health insurance carries a $100 ER copay and a $0 copay for lab work. So, imagine my surprise when I opened the hospital bill to see a balance of over $1300 staring me in the face.

Luckily, the insurance company's explanation of benefits arrived the same day as the bill. Seems that rather than applying the $100 copay to the entire visit, they applied a $100 copay to each line item, including all the labs.

Their claims department isn't open when I get home from work, so of course the one day this week I've managed to haul my sorry butt out of bed early enough to deal with it before work, I get the following message:

"You've reached the answering service for the claims department at XYZ Insurance. The call center will be in a staff meeting until 10:00 this morning. Please try your call again later."

headdesk
headdesk
headdesk

I've had this insurance company before, and they were nothing less than wonderful the first time around, so I'm hoping this will be easy, and that my current crankiness is unwarranted.

Teh dumb. I haz it.

We have a bakery here in town called The Silly Yak Bakery. They bake up mounds of gluten-free goods.

I seriously thought they just decided to give it a cutesy name.

Today, it finally dawned on me that Silly Yak sounds an awful lot like Celiac.

*forehead slap*

Sometimes, it just hits you

Lately, I've found myself eschewing the jewelry section at Target in favor of fun, handcrafted earrings on Etsy and Artfire. The ones that draw me in the most are made with pretty glass or gemstone beads, and I only just realized why. See this?:



It's a lamp bead, very similar in both shape and color to the beads that hung from the lamps in my Grandmother's living room. In my Etsy travels today, I came across a pair of earrings made with beads that exact color, and the memory of being 8 years old and thinking the lamp beads would be awesome earrings came flooding back.

And while I'm at it, here are the links to my favorite jewelry artisan's Etsy and Artfire pages. Check her out!

This. Very this.

Nobody told me it was a MEAL!!!

As I've come to realize is often our M.O. on Sunday, we eat at least one meal outside the home. This is fine with me, because Sundays are fairly lazy around here, and it's often our only meal. Today was no exception. We were originally going to go to Lombardino's, but in an effort to 1) be somewhat fiscally responsible and 2) actually get something done around the house, we opted for something cheaper and closer to home.

We chose poorly.

Or, rather, the choice of restaurant was fine - we just made poor choices once we got there. Delicious choices, but bad for productivity. And too many choices for it to qualify as fiscally responsible.

We went to Laredo's. Now, don't get me wrong. I loooooooove Laredo's. I've been on a "______ + chips" kick lately, and any Mexican place worth its margarita salt will defnitely be able to satisfy that. However, I wish someone - anyone - would have warned me that my soup was not really soup. It was a meal in itself.

The menu currently up on their MenuPix page doesn't list the Sopa de Mi Cocina. I believe the menu at the restaurant itself described it as chicken, shrimp, pico de gallo and avocado in broth, or something like that. There is nothing on that list I don't like. What the menu conveniently neglected to mention - which for the $8.95 price tag, I probably should have been able to figure out - is that they take a bowl roughly the size of one of those oversized coffee mugs (you know, the kind you usually use for soup anyway) and fill it about 3/4 of the way with shredded chicken, put a generous portion of pico de gallo on top of that, pour in enough (delightfully flavorful) broth so that it comes to the top of the chicken, then garnish it with 5 or 6 perfectly grilled shrimp and 4 large chunks of avocado.

It. Was. Heavenly. To paraphrase the ubiquitous "young ditzy female" judge from the original Iron Chef, it made my mouth incredibly happy.

Coupled with the chips and salsa, I was so full once I finished the soup that I didn't even look at my entree.

As for fiscal responsibility, that's something we struggle with when we go out to eat. To illustrate, I would have been fine eating that soup and nothing else. Bryan would have been fine with the appetizer he ordered and nothing else. Had we ordered just those two things and stuck with water for a beverage, we would have been out of there for just a little over $20, including a 20% tip. But no, we each also ordered an entree, I just had to have one of their specialty margaritas and Bryan had dos Coronas, so with tip, we spent 3x what we really had to. I suppose it's just as well, because we'll each easily get two additional meals from our entrees.

But oh my God the soup...

Radio's apology

We've all had those moments - the ones where you're happily driving along, flipping stations on the radio, only to catch the very tail end of a song you'd love to hear in its entirety. It happened to me this morning on the way to work, as I caught just barely enough of the end of Salisbury Hill to even know it was Salisbury Hill.

This afternoon, the radio had another "gotcha" moment, then apologized. There I was again, flipping stations when I caught a station just as it was fading out Send Me on My Way. I started to curse the day's rotten radio luck, when I realized that Send Me on My Way was fading into...

Salisbury Hill.

Then when that was over, I happened across TripleM's Friday Phish Fry.

And once again, all is well with my radio universe.

My addiction

On one of my boards, someone recently asked the question "what is your favorite perfume?" Most of the wonderful women there answered with one or two fragrances, with a few women stating that they don't care for perfume at all.

Me?

Ever since I bought my very first bottle of perfume*, I have been a fragrance junkie. I adore scented lotions, sprays and body washes. And it never ceases to amaze me how strong my scent association can be. Last year, I bought a case of conditioner I'd loved during my college days but had since been discontinued (Revlon Outrageous), because that's how much I love the scent. I lived with my grandmother while in college, and every morning I use this conditioner, I am transported to the upstairs bathroom at her house - the sunny, 1960s pink-tiled oasis** with the southeast-facing window where I got ready for class every day for 4 years.

*Fuzzy Peach from The Body Shop, which was purchased on a field trip to South Street Seaport - to this day, I'm still nostalgic for South Street Seaport and The Body Shop.

**Here's a pic to give you an idea - this isn't a pic of the actual bathroom, but it's the exact floor tile.

I mentioned in my reply that at any given point in time, I probably have at least 15 different fragrances hanging around the house. A few are in heavier rotation than others, and I am prone to going on kicks. Right now, I'm on a White Musk kick (another Body Shop scent), having worn it almost exclusively for at least two months. And while I do enjoy some of the more expensive scents, I do own quite a few inexpensive ones as well - I don't exactly have the budget to feed my addiction exclusively with designer fragrances.

My post got me thinking, and I became curious enough to take an inventory. I'll preface the inventory by saying that some of the more expensive ones either came heavily discounted from TJ Maxx, or are tiny bottles, the size you pick up for 10 or 15 bucks at Walgreens when you know you like it but don't have the 50 bucks to buy the full-size at Macy*s.

• Seven scents from Bath and Body Works alone: Rice Flower & Shea, Japanese Cherry Blossom, Sweet Pea, Sensual Amber, Mandarin Mango, Warm Vanilla Sugar and Moonlight Path (a few of these came in a variety gift pack I got for free when I bought my mother-in-law her favorite for Christmas last year, but I enjoy each of them)
  
• The aforementioned White Musk
• Diamonds & Emeralds
• Jessica McClintock (this was my Grandma's favorite - I wear it when I'm particularly missing her, including every day for about a year after she passed)
• Narcisse
• ici
• Colors
• Burberry Brit
• A couple of ancient, discontinued Avon scents that I wear once in a blue moon (Dreamlife and Little Black Dress)
• A purse-sized spray tube of a Glow by J. Lo. knockoff (received as a stocking stuffer in a work exchange, but shoot me now, I actually DO like it).
• My most recent purchase, Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker.
  

However, the one that is a constant and has been since the first time I smelled it is Trésor by Lancôme. No matter what else I have in my stinky arsenal, Trésor is always there in one way, shape or form.

There was once a part of me that wanted to be that person that people are reminded of upon smelling a certain perfume, but I love fragrance far too much to stick with just one. Bryan didn't like Trésor at first, but he says it grew on him, because it smells like, well, me. But I wear a ton of other stuff, too.

And for the edification of nobody in particular, but I feel it must be said - I am NOT one of those people who bathes in it. I may HAVE a lot of it, but it's used courteously.

All that having been said, it now occurs to me that I need to find some new fragrances. Some of the ones I listed - actually, most of the ones I listed - are now only available on internet fragrance outlet websites. Maybe I should find some new fragrances I can actually get in stores, huh? Ah well... just another excuse to add to my collection.

*shakes head*

With news stories like these, how can anyone still believe homosexuality is a choice? When a pair of gay penguins are the best parents in the zoo...

Not sure how to put this into words, but I'll try

I just watched a Momversation video on whether online friends are as important as "IRL" friends.

My response is an emphatic YES, but somehow, that just doesn't do it justice.

First off, my closest, most important, best best BEST friend EVER is someone I met online. Most people would, of course, consider this person very much an IRL friend at this point, because hey, I married him, and really, what's more IRL than that?

And could I possibly have used more commas in that incredibly run-on sentence? That's what I get for blogging as though I'm speaking and not as though I'm writing a thesis.

But anyway...

I can honestly say that I would not be the person I am today if not for the internet. My parents didn't have a lot of friends while I was growing up. I'm sure they had a lot of "friendly acquaintances," as Alice from finslippy referred to them in the Momversation, but there wasn't a whole lot of socialization. How much of it can be attributed to the fact that they worked opposite shifts, how much of it can be attributed to my mom's extreme insecurity, shyness and homebodyness and how much of it can be attributed to the fact that we really didn't have a lot of money... I'll never know what the percentages were. But the bottom line is that my parents didn't exactly set any examples for us in regard to making and keeping good, solid, lasting friendships. As a result, I was quiet and shy - being the fat, four-eyed nerd didn't help, but I've known plenty of people who were either fat or four-eyed or both, who managed to be quite popular. Not me. I just didn't know how to be that person. The one who made friends easily. The one who was unafraid to be myself for fear of losing what few friendships I had. To this day, I can be very outspoken, but typically only with the people with whom I feel exceedingly comfortable. On the inside, I can still be the quiet, shy little girl, scared to disagree with a friend for fear that they won't be a friend anymore. The internet has helped with that quite a bit, because as I've gotten more and more used to being myself online, I'd be lying if I said that it hasn't spilled over into my real life interactions. Not to mention the fact that I've met quite a few of my online friends in real life, and interacting with them the way I do online has gotten me more and more used to actually - gasp! - being myself IRL.

I'm a classic illustration of the socially awkward child who didn't blossom until they found the fertilizer that is the internet. My parents have never been early adopters. I was in junior high by the time we got our first microwave and our first VCR. They only got cell phones about 2 years ago. My mom still records her soap opera on a VCR, and the last time she came to visit, I don't think she really ever got the hang of the DVR remote. But when we got our first computer... back in the golden month of December 1997 (!), a whole new world opened up to me. I started visiting chat rooms - places where I could be myself. The person who wasn't fat and insecure and quiet and shy. The person who could say what she felt, because if the people there decided they didn't like her, she could always find a new place to go, somewhere she'd never have to "see" or talk to them again. Real life just doesn't always work that way, and let me tell you, that was the most liberating feeling EVER. I conversed with all sorts of people, all over the country.

That computer allowed me to begin the process of becoming the person that my insecurities about face-to-face interaction never could. It allowed me to start the process of becoming... me.

Within 11 weeks, I'd met the person with whom I'd spend the rest of my life. It didn't stop there though - I loved the newfound freedom anonymity brought, and I continued for many many years - and still continue - to delight in being myself and making new friends, both online and off.

Within a year, I'd moved halfway across the country.

Within two years, I'd found two wonderful groups of women, both on iVillage, on completely separate boards. I still converse with the core group from one of them on an almost-daily basis. Some of them are now internet-famous in their own rights, and I couldn't be more proud. *sniff* The other group, I still have no idea how I found these wonderful women. The first group was geared toward women my age, but the other board was a debate board in one of the iVillage parenting communities. I'm not a parent and I suck at debate - but I was fascinated by the board and the wealth of knowledge and ideas (and nipple forks and Golden Vaginas and Buckley Manifestos). I still suck at debating, but many of us have stuck together through 3 or 4 (or more?) board moves. While I don't post much on that board, I read it every day. I know I'm there, many of them know I'm there, and I'm now friends with a bunch of them on Facebook (and I know there are more, but I'm having trouble putting IRL names with screen names), so we're definitely in touch.

Within four years, I was introduced - by my husband - to yet another group of fabulous people. Ironically enough, I now participate on that board more than he does, and I'm now one of the admins.

I've even reconnected with people I knew years ago, but somehow lost along the way.

And most recently, through the magic of local blogs and online communities, I've started to converse with people who actually live nearby, as well - two of whom I'll be meeting on Monday, one of whom I recently found out is one of my new coworkers, some of whom I eventually hope to meet.

All of the wonderful people I've met, all of the wonderful people I have yet to meet... all in some way have helped shape who I am today.

So yes, my online friends are just as important, just as life-affirming, just as dear to me as my "IRL" friends.

And after all that, I still don't feel like I've done my YES answer justice. But hopefully I've provided at least some perspective.