Tag Archives: grandmother

A Restful Weekend

5 Mar

This was the weekend I’ve been waiting and hoping for for the past few weeks! I slept in! I cleaned! I made food that wasn’t served from a take-out container! I washed my hair! It was marvelous.

I reached new lows of lameness this weekend though, because the thing I was most excited about doing was cleaning my apartment. I am not a messy person, but I haven’t been getting home before 9 PM during the week and I’ve either been working or away every weekend for practically the entire month of February! Needless to say, my apartment needed a good scouring, and two and a half hours later, after scrubbing the last speck of dirt off my kitchen tile, I slipped on a clean pair of socks and vowed not to do anything that would tarnish my sparkling abode! This then was a perfect excuse to curl up on my bed and read books all afternoon while listening to Bille Holiday. It was so, so, so, so nice.

I know how it sounds. Cleaning? White socks? Showtunes? Everytime I think I’m climbing the ladder to coolness, I knock myself down a few notches to grandma-ville. Weekends in the big city should be spent visiting museums, or seeing off-Broadway theater! But frankly, I was so exhausted from the past few weeks, the guilt that usually accompanies my especially elderly behavior was pleasantly lacking! Plus this morning, I woke up on time and felt more awake than I have in weeks, and my apartment was clean! So take that, hipsters and 20-somethings who actually have lives!

The Peppermint Pavilion

21 Dec

So the results are in and I walked away EMPTY HANDED. So upset. I’m drowning my sorrows in peppermint schnapps and my leftover candy canes. Looking back, I think I peaked too early. I was finished with my creation on Tuesday, and people were putting newer things up everyday. Maybe I was the cool kid on the block on Tuesday, but by Friday, it was old news. Plus, the placement of my cube put me at a disadvantage–I was behind the famed “gingercube”, which, sure, was cool….but I wrapped my pencil cup people! Isn’t that worth anything?!

Apparently not. Out of four awards given last night, I didn’t even snag “Most Traditional Christmas.” Perhaps it was my lack of bribes. Unlike my coworkers who plied the judges with cookies and sweets, I was handing out peppermints, like a musty old grandma. Well, I thought it was pretty. AND I THINK I SHOULD HAVE WON SOMETHING.

The finished product! Listen, you can’t say I didn’t stick to my theme!

HOW DID THIS NOT WIN AN AWARD? Like, for serious. I hung streamers from the ceiling in a visually pleasing way! I hand-crafted thirty peppermints! I HUNG TINSIL! The world is unfair.

I lifted my computer up to paper underneath, and I have zero upper body strength. And all for naught!

Of course, everyone’s favorite detail was my screen saver, something that took me 3 seconds to choose. Disregard the fact that I spent 3 hours decorating my cube and suspended things from the ceiling. The highlight was obviously this screen saver. Obviously.

Déjà Vu, With Friends

13 Oct

This past weekend, I spent a lovely few days down in Princeton with my friends, catching up on life  and eating an insane amount of apples and apple-filled desserts. It was divine.

What was also divine, although perhaps perversely so, was the happy realization that all my friends are now LIVING MY LIFE. I graduated college a year before them, and succumbed to the slap in the face of real life with insane amounts of moaning and rivers worth of tears while they were looking at me strangely and enjoying daily happy hours. They seem to be handling the college-to-post-college transition with a bit more grace, but nevertheless, our conversations this weekend were populated with work talk, our lack of social lives, and the fact we can no longer watch tv shows longer than 22 minutes, since it cuts into our sleep schedules. I AM NOT THE ONLY GRANDMA IN THE HOUSE ANYMORE!

I kid (about them….I still need my sleep!). I love my friends, and have said many times I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the past year and a half without them, but it is kind of great to see them going through what I’ve been going through, if solely for the fact that they no longer think I’m completely insane. Which is always a good thing when it comes to building these lasting relationships, in my personal opinion.

A Heel-High

26 Sep

My daily walk between the port authority and my office is about 25 blocks, which is usually done at a breakneck pace because I am either:  a. running late or b. excited that I’m actually going to be early. This makes the prospect of wearing heels a definite no. I think the highest heel I usually manage is two inches, and it’s a wedge.

However, my cutesy little flats are not giving off the air of an accomplished professional woman, and because I literally wear the soles off, they’re not really in the best of shape. While I haven’t gotten to the ultimate in lameness—wearing my sneakers with work clothes—I figured I needed to step it up. (Ha. Ha. Ha.)

A few weeks ago, I also attempted to wean myself out of my flats, only to discard my heels for flip-flops at 9:59 am. This morning however, I wore flats to work, and then changed into heels, before deciding that heels are HORRIBLE AND THEY HURT LIKE A BITCH.

Not to be deterred, I made a little trek to the Duane Reade this morning and came out with the thickest insoles I could find. My once uncomfortable heels now have an orthopedic amount of padding inside, allowing me to strut my stuff without wailing in pain!

The great thing about wearing high heels is the elevated level of confidence they give you. Instead of padding down the hall in flats, I clop across every tiled surface just to hear the satisfying clicking of heels against tile. I feel mature and look more professional. This is certainly the way to start a Monday! Let’s just hope reduced blood flow doesn’t get in the way of a repeat performance…that six inches of padding is cutting off the circulation to my toes!

Illustration by Rebecca Pry.

My First Free Weekend

28 Feb

This weekend was the first full weekend I’ve had off in 9 MONTHS. Regardless of the fact that for the past three months, I’ve only been working two days a week, and thus, didn’t really need a weekend, I was still pretty excited to partake in the traditional weekend eagerness come Friday afternoon.

However, it wasn’t all TGIF. I ended up working late, and spent Friday evening watching Gold Rush on AMC and eating cold pizza with my parents. And my zest for free time is so far lacking, mostly because I really love my job! Plus, last week was my first week, and while I super busy, I wasn’t longing for two days of relaxation. Does that make me weird? Maybe I’m just so starved for a life that includes more than re-runs and pajama bottoms that I was willing to forgo this most rudimentary working tenet: weekends off!

But sadly, the first weekend wasn’t spent staying up until 4 am bar-hopping and sleeping until noon. Instead, I went to bed at 11, cleaned my room and did laundry, spent Saturday night babysitting my cousin, and made a mixed CD of Russian composers for my mom. I think people living in nursing homes had a more eventful time than me!

Listen, I’m a tad rusty. I’ve spent the last nine months trapped in weekend work mode and have sadly lost the social skills needed for weekend debauchery, which in my case, entails dinner out and Minute to Win It games. Looks like I have a lot of “work” to do to get myself back in weekend-fighting form!

My Parents Went to Miami

29 Jan

So my parents went on vacation this weekend…without my sister and I. What the hell, Mom and Dad. Isn’t the only time you’re supposed to go anywhere is when you can bring us?

But anyway, there’s about 9 billion feet of snow on the ground right now, and it’s supposed to snow consistently throughout the weekend. Looks like I’ll be stuck inside for eternity while my parents live it up at the Fontainebleau. It’s really depressing when you realize your parents lead a more exciting life than you do. They already see their friends way more than I see mine, and they drink a lot more wine.

Now, I wouldn’t say my parents coddle me, but when they’re not around, I’m actually responsible for getting up when my alarm goes off and making my own coffee. Of course, I have several issues with this:

1. I cannot recall A SINGLE TIME IN MY LIFE when I actually get up when my alarm goes off. Usually, my mom comes in and gets me up so I’m not running around like a crazy person with ten minutes to get ready, nothing to wear, and five thousands things to do. Like I did tonight.

2. I cannot make coffee. Every time I try to make coffee, it tastes gross. And I NEED coffee. And because of #1, I didn’t have time to stop and get a better cup, so I choked down the bitter brew and am now shaking at my desk because it was so strong.

So the two things that I’m actually responsible for doing when they’re not around, I suck at. Have I really become this dependent? I recall a time when I lived on my own, got places on time (mostly…) and didn’t need four cups of coffee to function on a normal day. But seven months into living at home, I’m now crippled by the small shreds of responsibility I’m doled out. When did it become so difficult for me to figure out the automatic setting on the coffee maker? I need my mommy!!

O god. What the hell is happening to me?? Please just be the coffee talking, please just be the coffee talking!!

I Am Lame.

6 Jan

I’ve found the reason why people get jobs: so they are not bored out of their minds! Because of some weird scheduling snafus at work, I’ve only been on the schedule two days over the past week and a half, which has left me with hours and hours of uninterrupted time. I don’t have to remind anyone that I HAVE NO LIFE–I’ve pretty much beaten that fact into the ground both on this blog and elsewhere. But at least last week, I had the distraction of the holidays and a quick jaunt up to the Catskills to keep me busy. This week, I’m one second away from drowning myself in alternative 90s music and watching chick-flicks alone on the sofa until 3…well, maybe more like 1/2 a second actually. Ugh, I need a hobby.

Fortunately, I have enough of a social filter and a firm grasp on what would keep me from sinking to new lows of lameness that I stopped myself from participating in several events that would have made this two-week sabbatical truly pathetic:

1. Seeing Blue Valentine by myself: I really want to see this movie, but I figured it couldn’t get much worse fantasizing about a failing relationship that I don’t have while watching people in a failing relationship, probably with people in relationships (failing or otherwise). Do you see my logic? Ok, basically, I didn’t want to go to a movie alone. Yea, now you get it.

2. Listening to Alanis Morissette: See also “drowning myself in alterative 90s music.”

3. Staying in my pajamas all day: I changed from pajamas, to sweats, to leggings, then back to pajamas. This counts, right?

So basically, I need a serious social intervention. Next week is my ski trip to Canada, which might be complete overload after these past couple of weeks, but at least it will get me into pants without an elastic waist. It’s the little things.