Perhaps a blindfolded wedding?

I told my sister last night that I was considering having one of my friends officiate our wedding. This isn't something I've thought a lot about, but it does sound nice to have someone you know really well presiding over the ceremony. This would, however, involve someone getting ordained--probably online, which seems slightly ridiculous.
My sister volunteered immediately.
"Not you!" I said. She and I don't have good a track record in terms of wedding behavior. We giggled through the entire mass at a cousin's wedding; family members three rows up were turning around to see what was going on. And really, it was nothing. We somehow decided it was funny any time the groom's name was mentioned. And when the priest had the couple turn around to face us, declaring that we had before us "a miracle and a mystery", I totally lost control. "Which one is which?" I asked my sister and we nearly peed in our party dresses. I realize this isn't funny to anyone else, but it should demonstrate why she and I are not allowed to sit next to each other at important gatherings anymore, let alone officiate each other's weddings. She would probably start the ceremony by saying "Mah-widge is wot bwings us togethah today" and it would be over.
I reminded her of all of this. Her response?
"Well, you wouldn't be allowed to look at me!"

Kids are awesome

Our friends Donna and George brought their daughters down from Boston to visit this weekend. Smokey and Emma were immediately terrified, with good reason, since at one point I walked into the bedroom to find Avery, the four year old, pressing down on Smokey with both hands. She looked up at me and said, "Can you help me? I'm trying to teach him to stand."
The girls are ridiculously cute and smart. Lael, the seven year old, learned how to do Sudoku and play Yahtzee while she was here. As I'm the one who taught her, I can definitely vouch for her extreme intelligence. I mean, the kid learned Sudoku while we were sitting in a Starbucks chatting, and she finished the entire puzzle from the New York Post before we got home.
Both Lael and Avery were so excited to be here that they basically ran around declaring how excited they were to be here, how much they loved me and Rob, and how New York was the coolest place ever. It was like being the most important person in the world for two days.
At one point, Donna laughed and said, "It's a shame they're not having any fun."
"I know," I said. "They're behaving like prisoners."
The four year old looked at us. "We are having fun," she announced. "And you're being facetious."

Stop the madness

I sat down at my desk today and immediately went to strap on my seatbelt. This seems disturbing to me. I don’t even own a car anymore and I rarely ride in taxis, so it’s not like I’m in the habit of buckling up each day; this must be a larger indication of the way I feel at the office. There are a lot of things I enjoy about my job, but I guess I also feel that I'm not fully in control in this work environment, such that I may need a seat belt (or occasionally a punching bag.) An article last year on MSNBC.com explored the results of desk rage, the feeling one can get from this type of work insecurity/unhappiness:

Some desk-ragers “go postal,” screaming, cursing, trashing office equipment, even assaulting others. But desk rage also manifests as a slow boil that leads to gossiping at the water cooler, backstabbing, poor productivity, abusing sick days, stealing supplies or becoming irritable or depressed. Some people simply get fed up, stop communicating, put on a headset and emotionally “check out.”

I’m guessing this (most likely the mid to latter part) is familiar to many people. It’s so depressing that this is the result of days spent doing jobs we likely studied to do, jobs we get paid to do, jobs we interviewed and competed for, jobs we really wanted and may still want.

Joshua Ferris’s debut novel, Then We Came to the End, is a fascinating look at corporate existence in a Chicago advertising agency. I loved this book and I highly recommend it, but I had to put it down a few times when it threatened to completely undermine my ability to feel good about life in my—or any—office. So do yourself a favor and read it as the excellent work of fiction that it is, rather than as a motivational tool.

Supposedly there are ways to remedy, or at least ameliorate, the feelings of desk rage: take a 30-minute break every day, get regular exercise, pamper yourself, spend time on activities you love. But when you’re in the middle of a particularly stressful day or week, it’s difficult to find the time and energy to do these things and much easier to fall into the habits of a desk rager. I hereby vow to work harder at quelching the rage. However, if I come into the office in the near future and reach under my desk for a helmet, I’m going to seriously consider finding a new job.

Dumbledore is gay

Dumbledore is gay.
Discuss.
Also, The Onion weighs in.

A good excuse to play in the city

Rob’s nephew Vincent came to visit us from Long Island this weekend. Vincent turns 15 next week and is the perfect shaggy, baggy, shrugging teenage boy. I think he’s adorable. He took the train in for the first time alone and, aside from having to stand up the entire first leg of the trip, seemed unscathed. His younger brother Harry has always been a little nervous to take the train without his mom for fear that someone will “steal" him, but Vincent was ready to make the trip.
It was fun having a kid-like person in town. We took him to some sports stores on Saturday because he needed new workout clothes, watched football, and went to dinner in Times Square (this is like Rob’s personal nightmare, so it says a lot that he was willing not only to enter Times Square on a Saturday night at 7pm, but also walk around it and even—gasp—go to M&M World.)
After M&M World, we went home and watched Transformers. Whose idea was it to make that movie 2 ½ hours long? I simply do not have it in me to sit still for that long watching robot aliens fight each other. I think my robot alien battle tolerance is more like 1 hour 45 minutes long (it's good to know these things about yourself.) After that, I start looking for things to clean.
Yesterday we also had Vincent all day, so we walked through Central Park, went to the Met, and then went bowling at Chelsea Piers. It was great to do the kinds of things that we talk about doing on our own, but never would. In fact, if Vincent hadn’t been in town, I think the highlight of our weekend would have been when Rob picked Smokey up, two feet in each hand, wrapped the cat around his neck, and said, “Smokey, I’m going to wear you like a scarf this winter.”
Ok, that’s not strictly true. This was a bit of a last-minute visit, so we had to cancel plans, including a movie with Jay and Cameron, a brunch date, and a party. But it was a good trade-off. I think we had a much healthier and more well-rounded weekend than we would have otherwise. And when I say healthier, I’m thinking more about the skipped alcohol and less about the fries, cupcakes, pizza…never mind.

A Mexican vacation

Here is the thing about Americans traveling in Cancun. The bar is really low for impressing the locals with your Spanish. Basically you can say "Hola, como esta" "Muy bien" and "Gracias" and they're like "Oh thank god. Someone who isn't trying to get my attention by screaming Over here, Amigo."* I know something like 20 Spanish words (trust me, I'm not proud of this) and I had a good handful of people tell me that I spoke the language well. And I'm pretty sure that all this means is that I tried to say a few words correctly and I did it at a normal decibel level. Or maybe they were just really, really polite people, which is entirely possible. Also some, but not all of them, may have been flattering me for tips. Which totally works on me. Whatever! They were compliments.
All-inclusive resorts are not really my thing, since you end up spending all day every day in the same place eating the same food. But the people at the resort were exceedingly friendly, we had a good time with Rob's family and the weather was far better than we were expecting--it rained for less than an hour each day, nothing even close to the torrential downpours and possible hurricanes that the "meteorologists" had predicted.
On the last day we were there, the group headed out on a deep-sea fishing excursion, minus me, since I didn't think it would be very appropriate to throw up on John for his birthday. I stayed at the resort and practiced saying "Una margarita, por favor" "Gracias" and "Uno mas." The waitress gave me enormous smiles and complimented my excellent Spanish.

*Yes, this happened. Yes, it was someone in our group. Yes, repeatedly.

Happy Almost Friday

I can't post this on Friday, because unfortunately (for other people, not me) I am going to Cancun this weekend. Rob's brother is turning 50 (!) and we plan to spend our weekend watching the insane thunderstorms that will be hitting Mexico. But who cares? We'll be in Mexico. I can start drinking at 10am and it will be way more acceptable than when I do that in the office.
I should come back with some pretty good stories, because hanging with Rob's family is always amusing and I mean that in the most respectful way possible. Really. But, even if I didn't mean it that way, isn't it great how the phrase "I mean that in a good way" absolves one of all sorts of rudeness? It's one of my favorites.
I leave you with a prime shot of your first guest blogger. This is the face he makes when you tell him that he has to submit his blog post and it's not just going to be automatically accepted. I can't wait to see the face he makes when I tell him I refuse to take this photo down.




Enjoy the weekend! I will.