Damn Swede

It’s been a week in the little condo on Fullerton Avenue.

I hosted a dinner party, which involved a lot of prep and trips to multiple stores. As I was preparing, I decided it was high time to clean the oven so I set it to self-clean. The last time I made pizza a sausage fell off to the bottom of the stove, so when I set the stove to clean, it started to smolder.

“FIRE, FIRE, FIRE,” the feminine alarm voice warned. I pulled a chair over, only to find I couldn’t reach. I ran back to get the ladder, all the while Ms. Alarm saying, “Warning, warning! FIRE, FIRE.”

I couldn’t find the batteries, if my alarm is in fact battery operated. By this time smoke filled the air and I was terrified my neighbors would hear and come a-knocking. I was in my pajamas, so I ran to quickly change clothes.

“WARNING, Carbon Monoxide!” The female alarm voice had something else to complain about.

A full five minutes, which seemed like forever while the high-pitched screeches rang throughout my condo, and the woman shut up.

Sigh.

This week also brought my first (and hopefully last) ocular migraine, something I had never heard of before - it is a migraine in your eyes, and usually has nothing to do with your head. It freaked me out and thankfully Monica was there to book a conference room and tell me to lay down and relax. My other coworker said if she had been at her desk, she could have called the paramedics. I think I would have died of embarrassment. It is hard to explain what an ocular migraine is, so if you are interested, I suggest clicking on the link. There is a picture that describes it better than I can in words - simply put though, I could not see. Once the ocular migraine went away, I got a head migraine that made me sick to my stomach. Yuck. It was a gross-feeling day all around.

Here’s to a better week this week!

Look at me! Three blogs in a row. Perhaps it is the looming deadline at work for the business marketing-related blogs that is making me blog more. Like I will somehow be inspired.

As a thank you for being her maid of honor, my dear friend commissioned her jewelry designer to make me a necklace. It’s beautiful and perfect, featuring the colors I wear the most. I wore it today and my coworker complimented it. I explained the back story and he said, “It looks good on your neck.” Huh, good to know.
I’m sleepy a little. Perhaps I should go to bed. I am hosting a dinner party on Thursday. I only bought half the ingredients so I need to make another run to the store. And a pie. And garlic bread. And stuff.

Sigh.

In my closet hidden away is a small photo album that holds the evidence of a few of my girlfriends’ last night as a single woman. In some cases, these celebrations were weeks or months in advance of the wedding but enough risque things happened that warranted their exclusion from the general public photo albums.

I spent my last two weekends celebrating this rite of passage with two different girlfriends - the first in Vegas and the second in Lake Geneva.

The Vegas bachelorette party started tame enough, with mom and the group hanging out on the outside deck of a bar atop one of Vegas’ many casinos. The view was nothing short of amazing, the conversation entertaining and the weather permitting. We left while it was still fun, put mom in a cab and headed to, well, an adult entertainment facility. The picture above is intentionally fuzzy to protect the innocent.

This is how I know I am getting old. I’ve been to this establishment before, years ago when going to Vegas for bachelorette parties was all the rage. Perhaps I had a bit more to drink before I got there, but I remember being - yes - morally opposed but (sorry to say) having a damn good time. This time I was overwhelmed by the mob of men that swarmed our group explaining the various pricing structures. I was thankful for my spot in the middle of the booth, protected by girls on both sides. We purchased the requisite lap and stage dances for the bride and quickly made our exit before the two drink minimum was enforced. I excused myself from the dance club at 3:30 AM, for fear my feet were going to fall off and very thankful I did not crawl in at 5:30 AM like the rest of the crew. Another sign I must be getting older.

The true test of my age was last weekend’s bachelorette party, which I have described to many as “the perfect amount of fun.” After having a birthday brunch with my mother, a coworker and I arrived in Lake Geneva early afternoon. We dropped our stuff off in the room, greeted the group and spent the next few hours hitting all the shops on Main Street. We returned to get ready, joined the rest of the girls for pre-party presents and headed off to dinner. Conveniently the restaurant turned into a dance club, so we sipped drinks while the bouncers threw the tables and chairs out the front door (quite literally). Shortly after, the music starts bumping and the space where we ate was filled with fog. The group headed to the dance floor while I waited for an appropriate song to make an entrance. Bust a Move? Why yes, it is only appropriate. After dancing for a while and enjoying the outside deck, we decided to call it. We were back in the hotel by midnight. Midnight!

The perfect amount of fun - dinner, drinks, dancing and a decent night’s sleep. Yes, I am old.

But rested.

It has been a while since my last post, which is not a reflection of not having anything to say. I have, in fact, had a significant amount of things to say but lacked the time to organize my thoughts and type them out.

My last post was about “Celebrate Life Day,” and I received the most wonderful gift that day. My little baby cousin returned home from his year tour in Iraq in one piece. Furthermore, his unit was the first since the war started that did not have any causalities. We gathered the family to celebrate his return a few weeks later and my aunts decked out my parents’ porch with USA-related decor. We got the call Joel was close and the family ran out to line the streets holding flags and signs. As he drove up, we clapped and cheered. We ate tacos and cake and heard war stories. We had a pinata for “all birthdays” and watched videos of various family members giving speeches and acting in school plays. Some went for a family walk while others stayed behind to rest and pull out more food for dinner. We ate again and slowly people began to leave, making sure everyone was appropriately hugged goodbye first.

Also since we last spoke, we Orthodox Christians celebrated Holy Week and Pascha. It is my most favorite time of year, and this year was more beautiful than the previous years. The anniversary of my grandmother’s death fell on Holy Friday, which added untold significance to the services that day.

This is turning into a post about everything I have done in the last two months. I can pretty much sum it up with work, church and family. It’s been a stressful time, but good for the soul.
It is funny to me that I now have to blog for my job, expect specifically on matters effecting the world of business-to-business marketing. You can tell what a great blogger I am in my personal life by the insane frequency of my posts. I am just a little worried. Do I have anything to say about business-to-business marketing? I guess we shall see.

Today is the one year anniversary of Celebrate Life Day.  Two days after it happened, my mother asked if I was over it.  I wasn’t then, and I am not now.

But I don’t want to ever be over it.  I’ve changed a lot because of it.

I appreciate every day, even the sucky ones.  I decided to invest in things that matter instead of shoes.  My faith was strengthened.

It still shakes me; usually when violence once again erupts in the neighborhood.  Little things get blown out of proportion over the course of the next few days but then I am fine once again.

Earlier this week, I had an unexpected conversation with a coworker and dear friend where we confessed our secret struggles over a cup of coffee in the kitchen.  “The 20th is Sunday, right?” I asked her towards the end of the conversation.  “That’s so funny you said that,” she looked at me, surprised.  Unbeknown to me, the day also held special significant for her, having experienced something terribly sad a couple years previous.  This lead to an even more raw confession about how we’ve felt on edge the whole week leading up to today.

“I am glad you didn’t die,” she said as we walked back to our desks.  “Thank you,” I replied at the time, but thinking of this conversation today made me cry tears of thankfulness.  I am glad I didn’t die too.

As the angel on the train said that day, “It’s going to be a great day, because now you know what it means to be alive.”

To all my friends and family - I love you very much.  Happy Celebrate Life Day!