For The Love of Boy Bands, Britney. . .and Ross Perot?!?

1989- New Kids On The Block Concert, Pittsburgh P.A.

2001- Backstreet Boys Concert, Cleveland, OH

2009- Britney Spears Concert, Columbus, OH

2011- Saw them all over again in Dallas, Texas!!

And how did I get tickets to see NKOTBSB and Britney, you ask?

Ross Perot didn’t feel like going.

Yes, lucky for me, that little man that I so desperately wished I was old enough to vote for in 1996 (despite the fact that I proudly wear an elephant on my sleeve. . .) apparently doesn’t like the boy bands.  And I’d be willing to place a safe bet that Britney and Nicki Minaj aren’t uploaded onto any of his playlists either. . .

Fortunately, a girlfriend of mine works for a division of Dell that was previously owned by Mr. Perot himself.  And to this day, tickets at American Airlines Center belong to him and his family.  If he doesn’t want them, they then become available to employees.  Ahh, it’s good to have friends in ticket-getting places J Love you Jenny!

Here are a few share-worthy show moments.  

KNOTBSB - Such a great show.  Really.  And not just because Nick Carter is skinny again. The music and dancing were fantastic, and the people watching was downright amazing.  There were more scrunchies in that arena then there were in all of 1987.

And then there’s Britney.  I don’t care what anyone says – that girl puts on one incredible lip-syncing show.  The dancers, the lights and the I’m-right-back-in-the-AOPi-bathroom-getting-ready-for-a-social-music.  Classic.

So here’s a big shout out to Ross.  Thank you for 2 girl's nights and for not appreciating the finer music in life.  And here’s to hoping you aren’t into Kanye either.

Grill Master Me

The senior awards banquet in high school was a big deal.  Kids studied hard for 4 years in hopes of being bestowed with honors like Science Student, Math Student or English Student of the Year.

I happen to hold one of those honors. 

Yes, you my friend are reading a blog post penned by the Home Economics Student of the Year, Class of 1998.

Seriously, I was that good!  By the time I was a mere 17 years old, I could make a dress, bake a soufflé, balance a checkbook, nurture an egg-baby and cook the best omelet you’ve ever had.

Unfortunately there was one cooking appliance that was unavailable for educational purposes:  the grill.

It wasn’t until just this year that I had the nerve to spark up the grill.  Maybe it’s because Mrs. Dance didn’t teach me how to, or because I perceived grilling to be the “man’s job.” (To be honest, I don’t ever remember my mom cooking on the grill.  She prepared meals in the kitchen while Dad manned the Weber.)

One of my best girlfriends can grill with the best of them.  I’ve had many ‘a grilled meals at her hand.  Every time she’d cook up grilled chicken or steak, I would wish I had mastered grilling on something other than the Forman.

If I was craving a hot dog?  Microwave.  Chicken?  Oven.   Pork Chops?  Skillet.  

The fact that I could cook everything I wanted inside, coupled with the fact that Ohio seasons really never leant themselves to much cooking on the patio, I meandered through life never knowing the joy of grilling.

Until our move to the warm-weathered, meat-loving state of Texas.

Mark started teaching me how to grill with simple items like burgers and chicken breasts.  Then last weekend, I took the leap and purchased a big ‘ole slab of baby back ribs.  Now neither Mark, nor I, have ever cooked a slab of ribs, and my fear of the grill is still very real!  But I had the butcher wrap them up, and I thanked him calmly, and walked away thinking “I have no idea what I’m gonna do with these!”

Thank God for the blessed internet.  Honestly I don’t know how people learned to cook before 1990.

So tonight, while Mark was out dining with his boss, I cooked- pardon me- grilled, a beautiful, delicious feast.

Move over, George.

Resumes, Herpes & Shopping Malls

Go-to friends.  Everyone has them.  Your friend who has a great eye for accessorizing that you call for advice before going on a first date.  Or your doctor/pharmacist friend that you annoy have on speed dial for your reoccurring eye twitch.  Or the mommy-friend that is 3 kids ahead of you and knows all the tricks of getting through teething.

Over the years, I found myself to be a go-to friend.  Specifically in the following categories: 

1) Grammar:  I can’t begin to tell you how many resumes I have proofread over the years.  Hey, at least my journalism degree has been put to good use!

2) Pharmaceuticals & disease states:  With eight years in the pharmaceutical industry, I like to think I became an expert on the products I sold, and the ailments they relieved. Migraines, schizophrenia, enlarged prostates and genital herpes are just the tip of the iceberg.  Unfortunately, this expertise has led me to engage in a few awkward conversations with friends who “had this friend” if you know what I mean.

3) My personal favorite – Shopping:  I quite enjoy an outing to the mall.  So much so, that I have developed a photographic memory of store and elevator locations (Hey, with a stroller in a mall, if you don’t know where the elevators are, you’re dead in the 1^st floor water. . .) 

And so I am that friend.  The one who frequently gets inquiries like:

“Where is the Nordstrom Rack in Chicago?”

“If I park at Macy’s, how do I get to The Gap?”

“Is there a Gymboree at Easton?”

And I’d say I have an unofficial 99% success rate with the correct answer.  Yep, I know my retail.

So you can imagine my embarrassment when I find myself standing in front of the giant, lit-up store directory trying to figure out where J.Crew is located!  B2 blue section? What? And I’m in section 1A orange now?  Uggh.

In Columbus, I could get to the J.Crew at Polaris or Easton with my eyes closed.  And maybe my hands tied behind my back for good measure.  In Dallas?  Oye Vey. 

What makes my predicament even worse is that there is like a million malls in Dallas.  Actually there are 22 shopping centers in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, (the most stores per capita in any US city) but who’s counting?!?

I understand that many of you are questioning, “If you love shopping, how could this be a problem?”

My answer:  It’s impossible to really learn the layout and dynamics of a mall when you are in and out of so many.  The mind games start when you swear The Loft was right across from Victoria’s Secret, oh wait – that was a different mall.  Catch my drift?

And so, I now anxiously scroll through mall websites pre-visit to develop a routing plan, and sit in the parking lot scanning through the stacks of mall brochures in my diaper bag.   All so I don’t feel like I’ve lost my shopping center navigational skills.

Then, just the other day, a realization.  I was in Nordstrom at North Park Mall doing some Father’s Day shopping.  There was a customer in line ahead of me looking for a pair of Tommy Bahama swim trunks in a size medium.

The sales associate said “I’m sorry, we don’t have those here, but the computer shows there are 2 pairs available at The Galleria.”

The customer responded, “Where is that?”

As the sales associate shrugged her shoulders.  I jumped in and blurted out, “Just jump on 75 north to 635 west and get off at The Galleria exit.  Shouldn’t take you but 15 minutes.”

Whoa.  (Yes, like a Joey on Blossom whoa.) So maybe my intra-mall store locating competence here in Texas is not quite up-to-par.  But as I evolve, so will my shopping savvy.  For now, call me if you need directions to Highland Park Village.  Happy to get you there, friend.

The Much Anticipated “Post-Move-First-Trip-Home”

It’s weird.  We arrived in Columbus the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, and the familiarity of it all made it feel like we were returning home from a (very long) vacation.  And that’s when I began to ask myself:  When does my new home start to feel more like home than my old home?

The first leg of our trip we stayed with friends across the street from our condo.  Our stay in Columbus was lovely and bizarre all at the same time.  It was wonderful catching up and spending quality time with close friends, but driving by the place where we became a family (and that was no longer ours-yes we finally sold!) caused a little ache in my heart.

But thankfully the trip was packed full:  picnic with friends, rehearsal dinner and wedding, trip to the lake, night at Put-In-Bay, Lake’s first trip to Cedar Point, and a retirement party. (Don't worry - you'll get specifics in future posts!) Whew!  Those 10 days were filled with fun and family and were exactly what I needed.

The morning of our departure back to Dallas, I was apprehensive.  The pull of friends and loved-ones exceeded my desire to come back to Texas;  but alas, we made the drive to Pittsburgh airport and survived the flight back to DFW.  Oddly enough, I felt a sense of relief when we walked into the apartment – the security of our belongings and the love of our attention-starved kitties brought me back to life.

And so I realized it would be naïve of me to think that after 8 short weeks, I would feel more at home in Dallas than in a place I spent 30 years living.  So, I may have just a few, or I may have a lifetime of trips up north before I feel like Texas is more my home than Ohio.    But Ohio will always be my home.  I guess I’ll just have to have two J

Ticket For 1 Please!

Just this past week, Mark came home from work, took Lake and gave me the evening to myself.  Anything I wanted to do was mine for the taking.  Should I go shopping?  Get my toes done?  Read all the new magazines at Barnes & Noble while sipping a latte?  Nope.  Not when I could immerse myself in 120 minutes of Robbie P, Reese and a torrid love affair!

I walked into a small theater in a pretty swanky area near downtown.  I paid for my single ticket to Water For Elephants, and as the girl handed me my ticket, she gave me one of those “Oh, a movie by yourself – that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen” smiles.

Once I got seated, I peeked around the dim theater.  It was a matinee - the 5:05 show - so there were only about 10 other people seated.  The only other singleton was a man who appeared to be in his late 60s.  I wondered if maybe he was a widower or if his wife was shopping down the street and he didn’t feel like moping around the Chanel boutique watching her try on suits and handbags.  There had to be a reason for him to be there unaccompanied.

Except maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need a reason.  Maybe he simply enjoys a good movie alone every once in a while.

Going to the movies alone is one of the things I do that gets the most bizarre reactions from friends and family.  The conversation usually goes a little something like this:

“What did you do today?”

“I went to see Water for Elephants”

“Oh, good – who’d you go with?”

“Nobody.  I went myself.”

“What?  Noooo.  Why?  You’re not that person, are you?”

Usually I say it was spur of the moment, or we didn’t have anyone to watch Lake.  But the truth is, I relish going to the movies solo.

So yes, I am that person.  The one you see in the theater and feel bad for, because they must be a total loner.  Or the person that you assume doesn’t have 1 single friend to see a movie with. (Well that might be a little true now that I’m in Dallas, but that’s neither here nor there. . .)

But the reality is, I’m the person that doesn’t have to share my popcorn or drink with anyone.  The person that can set my belongings down wherever I want and not have to catch-someone-up on what they missed when they return from a bathroom break.  The person that can put my elbows on both armrests and not have to awkwardly lean to one side for the duration of the film. I’m the person that gets to enjoy a movie all by myself. 

Now don’t get me wrong.  There are exceptions.  Some movies are simply meant to be seen with others.  Would I see a horror flim alone?  Absolutely not!  And the Sex and The City flicks - a must-see with girlfriends!  All other genres are fair game for independent viewing J

So the next time you find yourself with an afternoon all to yourself and a new release at the local theater, go ahead be that person.  You can get your latte on the way home.

A Mother’s Day Sandwich

All you truly need to make a good sandwich is the bread and the meat.  It’s all the other additions that make the sandwich great.  The tomato, lettuce, mayo - again, not needed, but very much preferred.

My mother’s day was the sandwich.  Perfectly good all on it’s own.  I woke up to a beautiful day, a loving husband and the most perfect little boy I could’ve ever asked for.  Brunch at Ocean Prime (My favorite!  Having one in Dallas makes me feel just a little more at home.) and an afternoon shopping at North Park Mall.  I couldn’t have asked for a better Mother’s Day.

But I got one - actually I got a whole week.  Because my mother’s day was sandwiched.  By mothers :)

In the days before mother’s day, my mother-in-law came to visit.  Her first trip to Dallas was amazing.  As a family, we ventured through the Dallas arboretum, ate Tex-Mex in Uptown and Lake played with his first set of Legos.  His Daddy’s Legos, in fact. Nonni saved them some 25 years and traveled to Texas with them in hand.

Then in the days following mother’s day, my Mom (and Dad) came to visit.  It was my Mom’s 2^nd trip to Dallas (she helped us move in) and it couldn’t have come sooner.  We visited The Sixth Floor Museum, shopped at the Galleria Mall,  and rode the Uptown Trolley.  Before their departure to Ohio,  Mimi presented Lake with his very own sweeper.  He is officially a bonnafide cleaning boy.

The past two week’s experiences, just condiments to my sandwich.  Thank you to my Moms for making it taste soo good.

1 Month Down!

We’ve officially been in Dallas for 1 month!  Here are 5 take-home points I've discovered about my new city.

1)  Go Blonde or Go Home!

I don’t care if it’s bright golden, dark ash, honey, light pale, platinum or strawberry.  All-over color or highlights, I’ve seen it all – on pretty much everybody.  Walking down the street in Dallas reminds me of the game “Duck, Duck Goose,” except is like “Blonde, Blonde, Brunette with Blonde highlights.”  Normally something like this would bother me, but I fit right in, which is nice J

2)  OU?  Oh, Where?

People in Dallas ask, “Where did you go to school?”  I reply, “OU.” 

          
            From there the conversation goes a little something like this:

“How awesome!  Oklahoma is a great school!” 

“Oh, no” I say, “Ohio University.”

“Oh, geez.  Sorry about your luck with Tressel. . .”

“Actually, that’s Ohio State in Columbus.  I went to OU in Athens.”

“So you traveled abroad?”

“What?”

“Athens, is in Greece, right?”

“Ha, no, actually it’s in Southeast Ohio.”

“Oh, ok, cool.”

Noted:  In every other part of the country, OU is known as Oklahoma University.  I’m thinking that my new response to “Where did you go to school?”  will sound something like this:  “Ohio University.  Not the Buckeye’s, but the Bobcats.  In Athens, a small town in Southeast Ohio.  Yes, it was cool.”

3)  Chicago Aint Got Nothing On This Windy City.

The month of April brought showers all right.  Here in Dallas, we had 7 newsworthy storms that included thunder and lightning and hail, oh my!  I actually rewound the news (I Love DVR) when Jennifer Lopez, yes our newscaster’s name is Jennifer Lopez, said there would be “baseball-sized hail” and “70 mph winds” during one storm. 

Now in Ohio, hail is a rarity, so I understand if you don’t believe me.  But go ahead and check it out for yourself.

4)  It’s true what they say:  Everything’s bigger in Texas!

If you’re like me, I thought that by everything, they meant hair, boobs and diamonds.  I mean, the April issue of D Magazine lists the “52 Things Every Dallasite Must Do!” and #40 is Get Fake Boobs.  Apparently Dallas is the #3 city in the country for plastic surgery, and they are none too happy being the second runner-up.

But enough about boobs. . .other things are bigger in Texas, too – including price tags!  My Ohio-made grande, non-fat, sugar-free vanilla caramel macchiato cost me $4.15.  Here in Dallas?  $4.60!  The barista in the West Village laughed out loud when I asked if the drink would taste better here in Texas.  Not better, but still delish.

5)  Didn’t you hear?  Bentley is the new Camry.

Mark, Lake and I have made eating outside at Urban Taco a Sunday evening ritual.  Good food, great margaritas and fantastic car watching.  Yes, even better than the people watching!  It’s nothing to see multiple Porsche Cayennes (Mark and I joke they must have had a sale on them!), Range Rovers, Maseratis, Mercedes G550s and Bentleys.   And not just any Bentley; It’s not surprising to see a Mulsanne cruising down McKinney and pulling up for a valet.  I don’t know about you, but I’m not so sure I would let some 19 year-old kid with a cheap vest parallel-park my $325,000 vehicle.  Just sayin.

Maybe when I trade-in my hybrid. . .