Okay, so rather than have this blog be about my random meanderings it now has a purpose - it's going to document the next twelve months of my life...as I move to Cincinnati.
I just spent the past few days touring around Cinci or is it Cincy (?) trying to find an apt and a car. Here's what I was told: "look at the Hyde Park area. It's super cute and lots of young people live there." Here's what I learned: Hyde Park consists of a few streets - some are normal streets in an urbanish, but not uber-city, kind of way. However, one street over is "dump town." I've never seen such crappy neighborhoods and apartments...that haven't been in non-rehabbed parts of town. Let's just say my first day touring around was not the best. Mom and I managed to not only get lost, while using a GPS, but also found ourselves in the dumpiest parts of town.
We were sent by many people to see Hyde Park Square. Apparently the square is a mecca of culture and things to do. That may be the story in Cincinnati but for the rest of us, let me tell you what the Square really is. It's two blocks, TWO BLOCKS, (hard to have a mecca that's only 2 blocks) 3/4 of which are art galleries and not art galleries that are pretty and upscale. We're talking about places that probably sell posters. Even if they were edgy, that would be better.
I digress. On Tuesday, Mom and I had a meeting with a friend of a friend who owns (?) a car dealership who also has a daughter around 24. From here on out, the woman, lovely as she was, will be known as "the Jewish Mafia." Obviously she's not, but from the way she seemed to know the city, at least before we met her, that's what we called her.
So Tuesday for lunch we met the Jewish Mafia and her daughter. First I got to test a Kia SUV and drive all over the university area of Cincinnati. If you're reading this, then there's a good chance you know how much I a)hate driving strange cars, especially big ones b) don't like driving when I don't know where I'm going and c) don't like driving other people. It was the tri-fecta of my old auto accident PTSD. As the blonde mother and daughter are yapping in the car (and really, they were very nice) I'm trying to find my way through various construction zones. We're going down the eight millionth hill in the city, and all of the sudden the mom tells me that on my right is Spring-something Cemetary. She tells me that I should take a day and walk through there. While I can't walk a dog there, it's still very pretty.
I know Cincinnati isn't Chicago or New York, but are you really telling me that walking through cemetaries is what they do for fun??
Dear lord, if that's the case, this is going to be a long 12 months...
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Cool new website
It profiles your visual DNA. 
(okay, apparently I can't figure out how to make these work today. i give up)
Thursday, June 7, 2007
What you should do this weekend
If you live in Chicago, that is...
http://www.pawschicago.org
Rescue a puppy...
or even a fuzzy kitty
(oops, no pics of the cats online. guess you'll just have to rescue a puppy!)
Dating Instructions for the Real World
Finally, something I can relate to in all those mumbo-jumbo dating stories.
From MSN: The art of email rejectionBy Bob Strauss
There’s a classic episode of The Simpsons in which Homer ghost-writes a rejection letter to Bart’s teacher, Mrs. Krabappel: “Dear baby, welcome to Dumpsville. Population—you!” It’s a bit lacking in tact, perhaps, but Homer’s missive is a vast improvement over most email kiss-offs, which are so bland and impersonal that they might as well have been drafted by a human resources department (that is, if the person you’ve been seeing even has the class to write to you one, rather than simply disappearing into the ether).
The question isn’t whether it’s polite to dump someone via email—for better or worse, this has become a common strategy, especially for young folks who’ve only been together a short time. “If you’ve been out on a few dates and you’re not interested in taking it any further, it’s a good idea to end things simply and cleanly, for both your sakes,” says B.J. Gallagher, author of Yes Lives in the Land of No. “It’s not good karma to leave unfinished business and disappear into cyberspace. You want to be clear, but also gentle.” How, you may ask? Well, if you are going to email your “Thank you, but no…,” here are some tips that can lessen the sting and help you take the somewhat high road:
Don’t go into detail. “There’s no need to list the specifics about why you’re ending a relationship,” Gallagher says. “If you explain too much in your email, you simply invite the other person to try to talk you out of it. Don’t argue, don’t explain, and don’t blame. The very best date-ending line I’ve read is, ‘I just don’t sense that ‘special something’ that would tell me that we’re a match.’ Isn’t that lovely? No harm, no foul.”(Um, I'm pretty sure I've never used the words, "I don't sense that something special." And I definitely don't use the word "match." Dating is painful enough without having to get that cheesy.)
Stay positive. “You want to keep your message upbeat, so you give the other person as little as possible to form negative feelings about,” says Caroline Kaufman, a psychology professor at Otterbein College in Ohio. “But even if you do your best to reject the other person respectfully and kindly, remember that everyone makes his or her own interpretations—and it’s not your responsibility to fix someone who gets upset.”Don’t use the F word (that is, friend). Here’s one from my own experience: If there’s no genuine affection behind the gesture, emailing “let’s be friends” to someone you’ve been dating for two or three weeks is like kicking a wounded puppy. Think about it: If you were really meant to be friends, you wouldn’t be dumping the person via email in the first place, would you? (I'm guessing writing "I'm positive we're not a match" would not be acceptable)
Originality counts. “You should be very careful about standard rejection lines like ‘I’ve just gotten out of a relationship and I guess I’m not ready to date’ or ‘I’m just too busy with other things,’” Kaufman says. “First, these don’t work very well if your online profile is still up. And second, you should always be careful about what you say to other people—no matter how big the town you live in is, the excuse you give in your email could find its way to someone else you’d like to date, and he might think you’re not available.” (Judging by some of the last, uh, guys, I've gone out with I'm pretty sure it would be okay for them to tell others my excuses - crazy attracts crazy, I don't I need to be dating anyone they know. Hell, if either of the last two even had one friend between them, I'd be shocked. I guess it's good that there's no "Be nice" instruction.)
Don’t be a weasel. “If you’ve been intimate with the person you’re rejecting, at least pick up the phone and do the job that way,” Gallagher says. “Email is the least personal form of communication we have, with the possible exception of text-messaging, which is an even worse way to dump someone. And if your relationship became very intense very quickly, you should have the terminating conversation in person, in a public place so there isn’t likely to be a big scene.” (How can I not bring up the email attachment break-up letter I once received? And I have to disagree with the text-messaging comment. If someone tries to tell you that they have a job as a secret agent and then they go bonkers when you want to go home early, I feel it's more than appropriate to call it off via text.)
From MSN: The art of email rejectionBy Bob Strauss
There’s a classic episode of The Simpsons in which Homer ghost-writes a rejection letter to Bart’s teacher, Mrs. Krabappel: “Dear baby, welcome to Dumpsville. Population—you!” It’s a bit lacking in tact, perhaps, but Homer’s missive is a vast improvement over most email kiss-offs, which are so bland and impersonal that they might as well have been drafted by a human resources department (that is, if the person you’ve been seeing even has the class to write to you one, rather than simply disappearing into the ether).
The question isn’t whether it’s polite to dump someone via email—for better or worse, this has become a common strategy, especially for young folks who’ve only been together a short time. “If you’ve been out on a few dates and you’re not interested in taking it any further, it’s a good idea to end things simply and cleanly, for both your sakes,” says B.J. Gallagher, author of Yes Lives in the Land of No. “It’s not good karma to leave unfinished business and disappear into cyberspace. You want to be clear, but also gentle.” How, you may ask? Well, if you are going to email your “Thank you, but no…,” here are some tips that can lessen the sting and help you take the somewhat high road:
Don’t go into detail. “There’s no need to list the specifics about why you’re ending a relationship,” Gallagher says. “If you explain too much in your email, you simply invite the other person to try to talk you out of it. Don’t argue, don’t explain, and don’t blame. The very best date-ending line I’ve read is, ‘I just don’t sense that ‘special something’ that would tell me that we’re a match.’ Isn’t that lovely? No harm, no foul.”(Um, I'm pretty sure I've never used the words, "I don't sense that something special." And I definitely don't use the word "match." Dating is painful enough without having to get that cheesy.)
Stay positive. “You want to keep your message upbeat, so you give the other person as little as possible to form negative feelings about,” says Caroline Kaufman, a psychology professor at Otterbein College in Ohio. “But even if you do your best to reject the other person respectfully and kindly, remember that everyone makes his or her own interpretations—and it’s not your responsibility to fix someone who gets upset.”Don’t use the F word (that is, friend). Here’s one from my own experience: If there’s no genuine affection behind the gesture, emailing “let’s be friends” to someone you’ve been dating for two or three weeks is like kicking a wounded puppy. Think about it: If you were really meant to be friends, you wouldn’t be dumping the person via email in the first place, would you? (I'm guessing writing "I'm positive we're not a match" would not be acceptable)
Originality counts. “You should be very careful about standard rejection lines like ‘I’ve just gotten out of a relationship and I guess I’m not ready to date’ or ‘I’m just too busy with other things,’” Kaufman says. “First, these don’t work very well if your online profile is still up. And second, you should always be careful about what you say to other people—no matter how big the town you live in is, the excuse you give in your email could find its way to someone else you’d like to date, and he might think you’re not available.” (Judging by some of the last, uh, guys, I've gone out with I'm pretty sure it would be okay for them to tell others my excuses - crazy attracts crazy, I don't I need to be dating anyone they know. Hell, if either of the last two even had one friend between them, I'd be shocked. I guess it's good that there's no "Be nice" instruction.)
Don’t be a weasel. “If you’ve been intimate with the person you’re rejecting, at least pick up the phone and do the job that way,” Gallagher says. “Email is the least personal form of communication we have, with the possible exception of text-messaging, which is an even worse way to dump someone. And if your relationship became very intense very quickly, you should have the terminating conversation in person, in a public place so there isn’t likely to be a big scene.” (How can I not bring up the email attachment break-up letter I once received? And I have to disagree with the text-messaging comment. If someone tries to tell you that they have a job as a secret agent and then they go bonkers when you want to go home early, I feel it's more than appropriate to call it off via text.)
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Around the city in two hours or less
The calendar might say 'Wednesday' but I'm pretty sure it's Monday in my book.
Day started off well; had a blinding migraine and got to run for the bus. Got to work, had the usual 50 emails waiting, and actually started to go through them.
Around 11, my calendar reminder went off for a doc appt...an appt I thought was for tomorrow. I made the appt a few days ago, so you'd think I would've remembered if it was for Wednesday or Thursday. Apparently I'm not that smart this week.
I scramble for my wallet - the one I've been using since I did my boot camp program in May. Of course this wallet doesn't have any of my various biz cards in it. I call the doctor's number, it's wrong. I try another version, it's wrong. At this point it's 11:10 and I need to be in Lincoln Park by 11:30.
I frantically run out of the office and hail a cab. I can barely think, I'm on the phone with a friend, and the sun is tearing a hole through my head. He suggests taking Lake Shore, and like a moron, I say okay.
A long and winding trip later, I find myself standing outside a darkened doctor's office with a locked door. In other words, the appt really is tomorrow.
I figure as long as I'm out, I'll go get fitted for the bridesmaid I dress (the $400 dress) I need for a November wedding. [note to self: don't send blog address to Haute Couture Bride]. I take the 'under construction' Brown line to River North. Get off at the Chicago stop and proceed to wander around the few blocks surrounding the area between Franklin and Chicago because I can't quite figure out how to make it through all the construction. Finally make it to the 'boutique', and the spacey woman says to me, "So you're here to pick out your bridesmaid dresses!" Um, no. But hey, thanks for reinforicing that whole 'always a bridesmaid never a bride.' I tell her no, and that I'm here for a fitting. She grabs a dress, shows me a fitting room and then tells me she'll measure me in my clothes. I'm not totally sure what I was supposed to do, so I decide to put on the dress - in a lovely shade of celery. Dress is on, I walk out, look in the mirror, and go back and get dressed. Then the fun really starts. As she measures me, she makes a remark about the size of my hips. Really. Makes a comment...about my hips. Keep in mind, J Lo has nothing on this girl, but she's going to make fun of a customer.
I play the bigger person - pun intended - and get the hell out there. I then try and take the train back to work where I not only get stuck, but we sit for 15 minutes waiting for boats to cross under the bridge.
All of this, and still back at my desk with lunch in less than two hours.
Day started off well; had a blinding migraine and got to run for the bus. Got to work, had the usual 50 emails waiting, and actually started to go through them.
Around 11, my calendar reminder went off for a doc appt...an appt I thought was for tomorrow. I made the appt a few days ago, so you'd think I would've remembered if it was for Wednesday or Thursday. Apparently I'm not that smart this week.
I scramble for my wallet - the one I've been using since I did my boot camp program in May. Of course this wallet doesn't have any of my various biz cards in it. I call the doctor's number, it's wrong. I try another version, it's wrong. At this point it's 11:10 and I need to be in Lincoln Park by 11:30.
I frantically run out of the office and hail a cab. I can barely think, I'm on the phone with a friend, and the sun is tearing a hole through my head. He suggests taking Lake Shore, and like a moron, I say okay.
A long and winding trip later, I find myself standing outside a darkened doctor's office with a locked door. In other words, the appt really is tomorrow.
I figure as long as I'm out, I'll go get fitted for the bridesmaid I dress (the $400 dress) I need for a November wedding. [note to self: don't send blog address to Haute Couture Bride]. I take the 'under construction' Brown line to River North. Get off at the Chicago stop and proceed to wander around the few blocks surrounding the area between Franklin and Chicago because I can't quite figure out how to make it through all the construction. Finally make it to the 'boutique', and the spacey woman says to me, "So you're here to pick out your bridesmaid dresses!" Um, no. But hey, thanks for reinforicing that whole 'always a bridesmaid never a bride.' I tell her no, and that I'm here for a fitting. She grabs a dress, shows me a fitting room and then tells me she'll measure me in my clothes. I'm not totally sure what I was supposed to do, so I decide to put on the dress - in a lovely shade of celery. Dress is on, I walk out, look in the mirror, and go back and get dressed. Then the fun really starts. As she measures me, she makes a remark about the size of my hips. Really. Makes a comment...about my hips. Keep in mind, J Lo has nothing on this girl, but she's going to make fun of a customer.
I play the bigger person - pun intended - and get the hell out there. I then try and take the train back to work where I not only get stuck, but we sit for 15 minutes waiting for boats to cross under the bridge.
All of this, and still back at my desk with lunch in less than two hours.
An Introduction
Greetings and Salutations!
Welcome to my latest entry into the blogging world. After being asked more than a few times when I was going to post to my old blog again (it's only been two years), I finally decided to start anew. ...I also realized I needed to stop only sharing my thoughts with the MySpace crowd.
So the bouncy red-head is back, and here to share with the world (or the three people that will read this) what goes on as I make my way through daily living in the beautiful, super fun, city of Chicago.
Welcome to my latest entry into the blogging world. After being asked more than a few times when I was going to post to my old blog again (it's only been two years), I finally decided to start anew. ...I also realized I needed to stop only sharing my thoughts with the MySpace crowd.
So the bouncy red-head is back, and here to share with the world (or the three people that will read this) what goes on as I make my way through daily living in the beautiful, super fun, city of Chicago.
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