Some women collect shoes.

Others covet designer handbags.

My passion is perfume. I adore scent! I wear a different fragrance every day, depending on my mood.

Here are the perfumes that are currently in heavy rotation at my dressing table, in no particular order:

-Victoria’s Secret Dream Angels Divine
-Ralph Lauren Blue
-Ralph Lauren Glamorous
-Perry Ellis f
-Armani Mania
-Liz Claiborne Realities (the new version, not the one from the 80s)
-Christian Dior J’Adore
-Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue
-Glow by J. Lo (I know! I can’t help it, though…it smells fresh and clean, and I get SOOOO many compliments when I wear it!)

On my Christmas list:
-Victoria’s Secret Dream Angels Desire
-Marc Jacobs Daisy

The one scent I hate? That's gotta be patchouli. Yuck. Reminds me of the kid whose locker was a few down from mine in high school. He was a hippie-wannabe who never washed his hair and was perpetually stoned.

What are your favorite fragrances?

Labels: fashion, holidays, memories, school

I was so caught up in the excitement of the Foo Fighters concert a few weeks ago that I neglected to post a few pictures I'd taken the following day in Wildwood, NJ.

Our friends were kind enough to invite us to spend the night at their condo in North Wildwood with them after the concert, so we wouldn't have to make the long drive home so late at night.

I spent my childhood summers here and I loved it. I still do. When I was a kid, going "down the shore," as we Philadelphians say, was a magical time. My extended family owned a few houses throughout North Wildwood, on the bayside, and it was always so beautiful and peaceful there.

I was never much of a beach person, but I would've spent our entire vacations on the boardwalk if I'd had my way. For as long as I can remember, the loud dance music blasting out of the speakers from the amusements, the screaming sirens and bells of the many arcades, and the smell of the sea and funnel cake and french fries mesmerized me. I loved roller coasters--still do, in fact--and I would ride them over and over again until I was dizzy. I loved the log flume, the fun house, the ferris wheel, the Gravitron. There wasn't a single ride I didn't like there. And during the day, I'd beg my mom to take me and my cousins to the waterpark on the end of Morey's Pier. We'd spend hours riding down the waterslides and tubing through the lazy river pool that ran the perimeter of the park.

As I got older, the boardwalk became a place for me to meet and hook up with guys, although the amusement rides never lost any of their appeal for me, either. I remember the painstaking process of getting ready to go out to the boardwalk at night: slapping on as much eyeshadow and lipgloss as possible, teasing up my hair and practically shellacking it with Aqua Net, and picking out just the right outfit in the hopes of finding a cute guy on the boards. I always despaired over my super-curly hair that went wild with frizz from the humidity of the coastal air.

Eventually, we stopped going to Wildwood, though I can't quite remember why. I guess I just grew out of it. Hard to believe I could outgrow something I loved so much, but that's life, I guess.

Until earlier this month, I hadn't been there in many years. I was happy to see that the boardwalk hasn't changed much, although it was much less crowded off-season. Gateway 26, my favorite arcade, is still there. Somewhere in my parents' attic, there is a Tupperware container with upwards of 20,000 Gateway 26 Skee-ball tickets. Too bad I didn't have them with me then! Sam's Pizza is still there. Kohr Brothers ice cream and Curley's Fries are still there, as is Douglas Fudge, of course.

The overwhelming number of new condominiums throughout Anglesea and North Wildwood did surprise me, though. It seemed like almost everything there was new construction. And expensive!

Here are a few pics. Enjoy!

Labels: childhood, family, friends, jersey shore, memories, nostalgia

This cracks me up every time I see it...reminds me of how I was as a kid.

Labels: childhood, family guy, funny stuff, memories

It occurred to me today that I never did finish posting about our vacation.

After spending three nights in fabulous Las Vegas, we checked out of the Luxor and took a cab to the airport, where we rented a car and then started the three-hour drive to Yucca, Arizona.

Our drive took us past Lake Mead and over the Hoover Dam. We stopped for a quick lunch in Kingman, AZ, which is famous for being the heart of Route 66.

After getting off the highway and slowly driving over eleven miles of unpaved roads, we reached Stagecoach Trails Guest Ranch.

The next four days went very quickly. We ate, relaxed, rode horses for several hours each day, and went sightseeing in nearby Oatman, AZ, an old mining-town-turned-tourist-trap, and Lake Havasu, which was gorgeous and is the new home of the London Bridge (yes, that London Bridge). It's also apparently the third most popular spring-break destination in the world. Who knew? We even managed to sneak off to California for a bit.

I can't say enough good stuff about Stagecoach Trails. The food was plentiful and delicious, and our three daily meals were included in the price of the vacation. All the guests ate together in the large dining room, along with the family who owns the ranch and the staff and horsewranglers. We were actually the only American guests there; most of the guests were British, and there were some Germans, an Italian couple, a Scottish couple, and a Welsh couple. It definitely made for interesting conversations. Did you know that most Europeans get at least six weeks' paid vacation each year?

One more thing: the night sky in the desert was incredible. We were so far away from any other sources of artificial light that it seemed like I could see half of the Milky Way!

We also got two horseback rides per day, one very early in the morning (6:30-ish) and one before dinner in the evening. I cannot describe how peaceful and beautiful the desert is, especially at sunrise.

I had a few reservations about riding a horse, but the wranglers at the ranch were awesome. Honestly, though, we didn't really get any heavy instruction on how to do it. The morning of our first ride, I mounted my horse and the wrangler told me, "If you want to stop, pull back firmly on the reins. If you want to go, give him a little heel in his ribs."

Then he walked away.

"Wait!" I called back to him. "Is that all?"

Just then, my horse came alive underneath me and I gasped. I was terrified on our first ride, but I quickly overcame my fear and then just fell in love with riding.

By the evening ride, we were trotting through the desert. And by the following morning, we were loping (not quite a gallop, but much faster than a trot) through the sandy washes. What a thrill! It was like flying. Actually, my first impression was that it was like riding a living, breathing, eight-foot-high motorcycle with a mind of its own. Just thrilling.

On Wednesday morning, the two of us went on a sunrise ride with just our wrangler Donald. He asked us if we wanted to lope, and we said absolutely! So we walked about a mile into the desert to a sandy wash and started running. We ran for a good bit, then slowed to a walk to cool the horses off.

Then Donald asked us if we wanted to lope some more, and we were off.

Unfortunately, this part of the sandy wash had some pretty thorny bushes and some sharp turns. Donald went first, then the Huz, and I took up the rear.

I watched Donald lean to the right in his saddle to avoid getting hit in the face by a thorn bush, then he disappeared around a corner.

Then I watched the Huz approach the same bush and turn. As he leaned to the right in his saddle, I suddenly saw him shift in his seat and realized that his saddle was coming loose!

He must've felt it too, because he started yelling for Donald to stop running. But Donald couldn't hear him.

Meanwhile, I was screaming hysterically, "Pull back on the reins! Pull back on the reins! Stop your horse!"

What happened next was both hilarious and incredibly frightening: the Huz was riding almost entirely on the right side of the horse because his saddle had shifted so far. Donald the wrangler was so far ahead of us that he didn't hear us yelling to stop.

Then the Huz decided to bail off the horse altogether. He slipped his feet from the stirrups and leapt off the right side of the horse, landing on his ass and then rolling several times in the deep sand.

Meanwhile, I was still running on my horse behind him. I watched him jump from the horse and immediately feared that my horse would trample him. So I pulled back on my horse's reins as hard as I could.

My horse stopped...but I kept on going! I flew up over the saddlehorn and sailed almost all the way over my horse's head. At the very last possible moment, I somehow managed to grab the horse's neck tightly enough to stop myself from going face-first into the sand. I wrapped both my arms and legs around the horse's neck and landed with my chin resting nearly between his ears.

Shocked, I looked over at the Huz, who was laying on his side in the sand and rubbing his elbows, coughing from the huge clouds of dust and sand that had been kicked up into the air from his sudden landing.

Then I started laughing.

I laughed so damn hard that my grip on my horse's neck loosened, and I wound up flipping over so that I was now hanging underneath my horse's neck. Still, I just could not stop cracking up!

Finally, between my sweaty palms and my uncontrollable laughter, I completely lost my grip on the horse and dropped flat on my back in the sand.

I laid in the sand for a few minutes, giggling helplessly. The Huz stood up and helped me up.

Looking around, I asked him, "Uh...where's your horse?"

Turns out the horse got so spooked by the ordeal that he just kept on going, and galloped right back to the ranch by himself, his saddle still hanging off him sideways.

At this point, Donald returned to us and asked us what had happened. We related the whole story to him and he asked us to stay put with my horse while he went to find the other one. Then he gave his horse a good firm kick and off he went.

A minute later, we were standing the middle of 85,000 acres of desert, all alone. My horse started pawing at the ground and making little grunting noises.

"Do you think we should start walking back to the ranch?" the Huz asked me.

"No way! He told us to stay right here and I'm listening to him. Besides, the desert trails all look the same. Our luck, we'd wind up getting totally lost and dying of heatstroke or something."

Twenty minutes passed and we could hear hoofbeats approaching. Donald appeared a few moments later, holding the reins of the runaway horse.

We remounted and walked back to the ranch just in time for breakfast. We were bruised and sore, but it made for such a great story! I only wish someone had captured it on video. We definitely would've won AFV's prize for it!


High noon gunfight in Oatman


Sunrise in the Mohave Desert


Sadly, Needles was more like South Central L.A.


Heading out on a ride


Tedd and Donald, two of the wranglers


Riding up Route 66 to Oatman


Lake Mead


Hoover Dam

Labels: memories, vacations

I usually don't write about terribly personal things on here, but this has been weighing on my mind for a while now and I needed to get it out.

If you've either been a longtime reader of this blog, or if you've ever just delved back into the archives here, you may remember this post I wrote way back in January 2006 about a friend of mine.

We had been talking more frequently throughout the autumn of last year and I'd known that he was still deep in the throes of his addictions, but having been through it before, I also knew that there was nothing I could do but stand back and watch. It was heart-wrenching and frustrating and scary to be in such a helpless position.

After the new year, I'd stopped hearing from him. For over two months, it was as if he'd totally dropped off the face of the planet, and I felt completely sick about it. I knew that his lack of communication with me had to signal his absolute descent into darkness. I even worried that he was dead.

Then one day in mid-March, my cell phone rang. It was him. He was a wreck: bawling hysterically, telling me he'd done something really awful.

"Did you kill someone?" I asked him tentatively.

"No," he sniffled. "You know I'd never do that."

"Well then, it couldn't be that bad," I replied. "Just tell me what's going on. You know I've been your friend forever, and there's nothing that you could tell me that would change that."

He went on to describe the existence he'd been leading in the past several months. Living on the streets intermittently, getting high with his girlfriend and god knows who else, having the electricity and gas shut off in the home they rented together.

Desperate, he decided one day to steal some blank payroll checks from his employer. He told me he forged a check large enough to cover the utility payments, but I had my doubts about that. After all, he was an addict, and addicts will do just about anything to finance their habits.

Of course, he got caught. He lost his job and his employer pressed charges.

Sobbing, he told me that he was going to go away for a long time, and that he just wanted me to know about it.

I'd never heard him sound so distraught in all the years I'd known him. I immediately left work that day and went to see him.

His appearance shocked and terrified me. David had always been lanky, but now he was nearly skeletal. He looked so filthy that I even hesitated to hug him. His clothes were stained and pocked with cigarette burns. His work boots were blackened, and the soles were coming loose. His lips were cracked and his skin ashy. The thing that scared me the most was the wild look in his eyes. I'd never, ever seen him like that before.

I only spent about an hour with him that day. I took him to Wawa and, telling him that he looked like he needed a meal, bought him a hoagie and a soda, both of which he refused. Most of our visit was comprised of him sobbing and wailing and me feeling about a million different emotions and not knowing exactly how to respond to him.

When I left him, I told him to take care of himself and to let me know if he needed anything.

Twenty-four hours later, he attempted suicide.

He swallowed a large amount of several different kinds of prescription drugs. Mostly anti-psychotics. Lithium.

No one I've known (at least not to my knowledge) has ever tried to kill themselves. This was a life-changing event for me to witness. The most horrible thing about it for me was that I didn't even know about it until a week later.

I hadn't heard from him and figured that he had probably turned himself in to the police. But one morning, exactly a week after I'd seen him, I got a voicemail on my cell phone. In the message, he sounded completely out of it, and he stated that he'd had a "little accident" but that things were going to be fine.

On a hunch, I immediately called the hospital closest to his house and asked for him. For some reason I've always had a weird connection to him. Probably because we've known each other for so long.

My heart rate shot into hyperspeed when the operator confirmed that he was there and connected me to his room.

He told me what had happened, and I just sat there listening, open-mouthed. He told me that he knew what he'd have to do. No more drinking. No more drugs. No more girlfriend. He'd have to move back to his mom's house, maybe go to rehab, and work on rebuilding his life.

Gently, I asked, "What about NA? Are you going to start going to meetings?"

"Absolutely," he answered. "I need help. I finally realize that, Lori."

As of today, I am happy to report that he has been substance-free for almost seven months. This is a major accomplishment for him, as it's the first time he's been clean and sober since he was twelve years old.

He started going to NA meetings every day after he got out of the hospital. He got a sponsor there and has made friends with other recovering addicts.

Also, he has been rehired as a dialysis technician for a company that had previously fired him and had labeled him as "unrehireable."

He has started patching up relationships with his family.

And he went to court this summer and completely avoided jail time. Instead, he was made to pay fines and to perform sixty-four hours of community service, which I believe he has already completed.

He and I have drifted apart somewhat as he has been creating a new life for himself. But I am incredibly proud of him no matter what. I always believed in him, and I always knew that he could do this if he really, really wanted it badly enough.

So this agnostic has to admit to herself that sometimes, miracles really do happen.

Labels: deep thoughts, friends, life events, memories

I busted out some of the old-school jams tonight while I was working on my 'puter. Right now I'm listening to "Rapper's Delight" by The Sugarhill Gang.

Back in the late 90s, there was a resurgence of interest in these forefathers of hip-hop and they did a small club tour. One of the stops was The Lagoon in Essington, PA, which was (sad but true) one of my haunts back in the day. I'll get to that in a future post.

Somehow, two of my girlfriends and I got pulled up onstage with The Sugarhill Gang by their bodyguards/roadies. It was surreal and hilarious. I got to do the Bump with Master Gee. I only wish I had pictures.

Since then, whenever I hear "Rapper's Delight" or "Apache," I just laugh.

Good times, y'all.

Labels: friends, funny stuff, memories, music

Also, my body's still adjusting to East Coast time again.

We got home from the airport last night (this morning?) at 2 a.m.

Some highlights from the trip:

My parents went out to Vegas with us last Thursday and stayed until Monday, while we left Vegas and drove to the ranch in Arizona on Sunday morning. My father has an extreme fear of flying. As a matter of fact, this was our very first official family vacation. It only took thirty years!

Anyway, we boarded our plane in Philly on Thursday as scheduled. Then proceeded to sit in a long line of planes for an hour on the runway. Ridiculous, but flying out of Philadelphia usually entails complications like this. My poor dad. He just wanted to get it over with.

Once up in the air, things went smoothly for a few hours, until we were just about over Kansas City. Suddenly, things went haywire. A flight attendant got on the loudspeaker and asked if anyone with any medical training would please move to the back of the airplane. About a dozen people gathered back there. Turns out that a diabetic man had gone either into sugar shock or into a hypoglycemic blackout. After fifteen minutes, the pilot got on the loudspeaker and announced that we'd be making an emergency landing in KC. Lovely.

So we were grounded for about another hour. The paramedics rushed into the plane and carted the guy off, then returned him about forty-five minutes later!

We FINALLY got into Vegas around 10 p.m. Got our luggage and headed for the taxi stand...which was an HOUR-AND-A-HALF wait! I guess I picked a busy weekend to come to town: we later learned that there were multiple events taking place in town at that time: a bunch of concerts, the American Pro Volleyball tournament, several large conventions, and oh yeah...the MTV Video Music Awards were also going on at the same time we were there.

We wound up finding a private driver and paying $40 for a ride in a black Escalade to the Luxor...a ride that would cost about $12 by taxi. Sigh.

Other than those first-night snafus, everything in Vegas was great. It was hot as hell (averaging about 106 degrees) but we drank plenty of water and spent a lot of time in the air-conditioned casinos. On Friday, we had a fabulous and pricey anniversary dinner at Gallagher's Steakhouse in New York New York. On Saturday afternoon, my dad and I caught an IMAX 3-D movie at our hotel that was really cool. On Saturday night we went to Fremont Street and wandered around for a few hours.

Unfortunately, none of us hit the jackpot. We all came back poorer.

Following are some pictures of Vegas. I'll be back later to regale you with tales from the dude ranch portion of our trip. Suffice to say that I have bruises, blisters and scratches all over my body...and a newfound respect for jockeys, the Marlboro Man, and Lady Godiva. Horseback riding is HARD, yo.



The facade of New York New York.



Looking up at our hotel from the Strip.



Taken across the street from Paris, while waiting for the Bellagio fountain show to start.

Labels: family, funny stuff, memories, vacations

Teri's next question for me:

If the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World were still around, which one would you most like to see?

This one is a no-brainer for me! The only "ancient wonder" that is still in existence is the Great Pyramid at Giza, and that is definitely what I want to visit!

I've been interested in Egyptology since I was young. NERD ALERT!! From grades three through seven, I took part in a special supplementary program at school called ATP (Academically Talented Program...geez, wasn't I just SO SPECIAL? Not.). Once a week during the school day, I would get on a bus with three or four of my classmates and spend a few hours at the school district's Intermediate Unit.

ATP was so freaking cool. We got to do all kinds of stuff that we never would've had the chance to do in our "real" classes. In fourth grade, we spent half the year learning about the Milky Way. The final project required us to learn how to write a music program in Basic on the computer and to write a poem that tied into the specific planet of our choosing. I picked a piece from Gustav Holst's "The Planets" and somehow managed to write a Basic program on my little Radio Shack Tandy PC that synchronized my poem to the music.

Anyway, in fifth grade, we studied ancient Egyptian life and culture in ATP. Part of our studies included learning how to read and write basic hieroglyphics. It was unbelievably fun! Here's a site where you can see your name in hieroglyphics. One of these days, I'm going to get myself a little gold cartouche charm with my name in hieroglyphics.

Later, when I was 18, the second tattoo I got (of the five that I have) was a blue Egyptian ankh...the symbol for life and immortality. It's on my left shoulder blade.

My friend PJ has actually been to the Pyramids and I must admit I am incredibly envious of her for that reason! Someday I hope to make it there myself. The closest I've ever been to the Pyramid is when my mom and I stayed at the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas in 2003! Not quite the same thing, though...

Hope everyone's well! And apologies to Teri for my serious slacking-off!

Labels: childhood, deep thoughts, friends, memories, tattoos

Teri has come to my rescue! I've been stressing about quality blog topics lately, and she has presented me with five personalized interview questions to answer!
Instead of trying to address all five in one post, as I do tend to get a little verbose, I'm going to dedicate one post to each question. So without further ado...here's Teri's first question for me and my response!

If you could change your current career, what would you do?

This is tough because it’s such an open-ended question. I’m not sure if I should work under the assumption that, whatever career I choose, I would have sufficient training, schooling, or experience in it. But since these are my questions to interpret however I want, I’ll just say that if I could change my career, I’d either be a writer or a chef.

Writing has been a critical part of my self-identity for as long as I can remember. I’ve been fascinated by language and expression since I was a little girl. I can identify three pivotal events in my life as a writer.

First, I got my first diary when I was in second grade. It was a small, square hardcover book with a photo of an orange tabby cat nestled in a tangle of red poppies on the cover. I was most enamored of the tiny lock on it that could only be opened by an even tinier brass key that I kept hidden in my jewelry box. I wrote in that diary faithfully, and that was really the beginning of my love affair with language. Now it's just hysterically funny to read back on my eight-year old self's musings.

Second, when I was in third grade, I came down with the chickenpox and had to stay home from school for about a week. My father felt bad for me because I was so bored and one night, he brought home a grab bag of goodies for me. One of the grab bag items was a fifty-page book with illustrations on every other page that had blank lines on the opposite page on which I could write a story that corresponded with the drawings. The illustrations depicted a dog that had been abducted by friendly aliens and taken back to their home planet, and I wrote the entire story in about three hours, loving every minute of it.

Third, when I was in sixth grade, I got a Brother electronic word processor from my parents for Christmas. Instantly, I was enthralled by it and that’s when I began writing in earnest. There was something magical about seeing my words come together on the tiny four-line dot matrix screen, and since then, I’ve always preferred writing via typing rather than longhand. I can type much faster than I can write. At that age, most of the stuff that was produced on that word processor were stories about my best friend and I bumping into the New Kids on the Block at our local carnival—imagine that!!—being spirited off to Boston to meet their parents and then ultimately accepting their marriage proposals (her favorite was Joe; mine was Jon. I always liked the dark, shy ones!).

As an only child, I spent a lot of time trying to entertain myself. Writing was always there for me. So if I could make a stable, reliable living from writing, that’s what I’d be doing right now.

As for the chef idea...well, I just like to cook. I find it both relaxing and extremely satisfying. Of course, if I had to do it day in and day out for a living, maybe I'd feel differently.

Teri, I hope I did your first question justice. I'll be back to answer your next question!

Labels: childhood, deep thoughts, memories, work, writing

Someone asked me to write about this, so here goes.

I began smoking cigarettes when I was fifteen. I was working during the summer at a Hallmark card store. There was another girl who worked with me who was a year or two older than I. Her name was Danette. We got friendly and started hanging out occasionally.

One night after we closed the store, Danette’s friends and I were hanging out at a park in Newtown Square. They were all smokers and they asked me if I wanted a cigarette.

I hesitated. My mother had just ended a twenty-five year smoking habit herself earlier that year. I vividly heard her voice echoing in my mind. “If you EVER touch a cigarette, I will break all ten of your fingers!”

Did that stop me? What do you think?

I shrugged as Mike, Danette’s sometimes-boyfriend, extended a Marlboro Red to me. I slid it between my lips as he held up his gold-plated Zippo lighter.

“Wait a minute,” I said, pulling the cigarette from my lips. “What am I supposed to do with this thing?”

They all laughed at my innocence.

“Just inhale it,” Danette instructed. “Breathe in real fast through your mouth when Mike lights it. Pretend like your mom just walked in on you doing it and gasp, like you're surprised. You might cough for a minute or two, but you’ll get used to it.”

So I did. And man, did I cough! I hacked like an old coalminer for a good ten minutes as I struggled to finish the cigarette. I remember thinking to myself, “Why would anyone enjoy this?” But it seemed like the thing to do…it seemed like everyone I knew smoked.

For several months, I was a weekend social smoker. Terrified that my parents might find me out, I didn’t buy my own packs of smokes for nearly a year after I had my first cigarette. But eventually I gave in to the impulse and began smoking every day. I never smoked at home, so I started spending lots of time at my friends’ houses, where I could enjoy my cigarettes without fear of parental rebuke.

It went on that way for eight years. After about a year, I became a standard pack-a-day smoker. Of course, my parents did find out about it. They were quite upset--particularly my mother, who'd had such a hard time giving it up herself--but they realized that they couldn’t prevent me from smoking when I was away from home.

I remember one time, when I was about seventeen, I lit up a cigarette at a family barbecue in front of everyone. At that point, my entire family knew I smoked, so I figured it was no big thing. My mother, who was sitting across the picnic table from me, took one look at me sucking on my beloved Parliament Light and promptly burst into tears. I quickly stamped it out under my sandal and never smoked in front of her again.

In the spring of 2001, when I was twenty-three, I started thinking about quitting. Nothing in particular made me consider it..I just felt like it was time. Ninety-eight percent of my friends were still smokers, and though my mother occasionally nagged me about it, no one ever seriously asked me to quit. By that time, I was dating Brian and he didn’t smoke, but he never complained about my smoking; in fact, after a few drinks on the weekend, he would usually bum a smoke or two from me! Smoking was never a true addiction for him, though, which is something that still puzzles me to this day. If you’re not gonna go full-tilt, why bother at all?

Anyway, I was up to almost two packs a day at that point due to major job stress. But inexplicably, the pleasure I’d always gotten from smoking was steadily waning. Every time I lit a cigarette, I wound up asking myself why I was doing it. Many times, I would stub it out before I had smoked even half of it. I had also recently joined a health club and was feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite when, as soon as my workout ended, I'd leave the gym and light up immediately in the parking lot on the way back to my car.

I am not an impulsive person. I don’t usually make snap judgments about anything. And I certainly didn’t decide in a split-second to quit smoking. I actually thought about it for months and months before I decided to do it. But I didn’t dare tell anyone; I didn’t want to commit to it out loud. It seemed safer if I kept it to myself. I didn’t want anyone throwing it in my face if I failed.

Friday, July 27, 2001 arrived, and I decided that that would be my quitting day. As luck (or in this case, bad luck) would have it, Brian and a bunch of my coworkers were going to a happy hour after work. They wanted me to come with them. All day long, I sat at my desk and contemplated it. I knew that if I went to happy hour and had a few cocktails, I’d wind up with a cigarette in my hand.

I quietly told Brian that I wouldn’t be joining him for happy hour that night, that I’d decided to quit smoking that day and that I was scared to death I’d fail. Not being a true nicotine addict, he really couldn’t understand what the problem was. He didn’t recognize the correlation between booze and cigarettes for me. Namely, booze = lowered inhibitions = me saying, “Awww, what the hell! I can quit tomorrow!” = cigarettes.

I managed to convince him that I wouldn’t be upset if he went to happy hour that night without me. I went home (I was still living with my parents then) and brooded. And by “brooded,” I mean that I sobbed inconsolably for five straight hours, crumpled up on a lawn chair in the backyard as night fell upon me. Seriously. I wept as if my best friend died. And in a way, I guess that was true; cigarettes had been my friend for eight long years. Cigarettes, and the rituals that I associated with them, had seen me through many good and bad times. I was completely devastated about my decision to quit smoking, as much as I understood (with the small amount of sanity I had left at the time) that it was the right thing to do.

That night, I wondered if my life would ever be the same again. I wondered if I’d ever be able to go out with my friends to happy hour again. I couldn’t imagine ever having fun again without being able to smoke. I couldn’t imagine getting through a stressful day at work without taking a few well-deserved cigarette breaks outside. I couldn’t imagine sitting in rush-hour traffic in my car without puffing away on a Parliament Light. ESPECIALLY when I was in my car; that was my favorite time and place to smoke…the windows and sunroof open, music blasting.

But life went on, as life does. And to my surprise, it got easier for me to not smoke. I learned to sit out the cravings. I figured that just because I felt like I wanted to have a cigarette didn’t mean that I had to give in to it. Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. And the more time passed, the more determined I was to stick to my goal. I didn’t want to start from scratch all over again. What can I say? I’m very stubborn. When I set my mind to something, I don’t let anything get in my way.

My personal secret to quitting successfully? To never, ever, EVER smoke one more cigarette again. Ever.

I don’t mean to sound flip or cute. Not at all. But that’s what worked for me. It’s simple, but not at all easy. Not easy by a long stretch.

For a time after I quit, I had to stop hanging out with my smoker friends. This, as you might imagine, ruffled some feathers. And I did stop drinking for about six months after I stopped smoking. I just felt strangely incomplete with a cocktail in one hand but no cigarette in the other. Even now, I rarely drink.

Does that mean I’m not tempted to smoke now? Nope. Though it’s been almost six years since I quit, I still think about cigarettes every now and then. And I expect it will be that way for the rest of my life. It’s not often, but sometimes the urge to smoke hits me like a fucking stampede of cattle, and I have to take a few deep breaths until it passes.

Especially when I’m sitting in my car in traffic.

Labels: accomplishments, family, friends, health, life events, memories

OK, if any of you have ever seen my "random question" in my Blogger profile, you've noticed that I mentioned what my porn star name is.

Now I want you to tell me what YOUR porn star name is. Here's how to get it:

First Name = name of your first childhood pet
Last Name = name of the first street you lived on

My first pet was an orange tiger tabby named Whiskers, and I lived on Hampden Road in Upper Darby until I was 10. So voila! My porn star name is Whiskers Hampden.

Leave your porn star name in my Comments!

Labels: childhood, funny stuff, memories, pets

Livelee tagged me...here goes!

This list can make you feel as though you've done some pretty cool things in your life...or as if you haven't done enough. Which one are you?

Things I've done are in boldtype.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you” and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children/currently raising child
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read

136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life

Wow, I've experienced more things than I thought. Thanks, Livelee! You've also given me some ideas for future blog posts!

I'm tagging Teri, Cayman, and Mainline Mom.

Labels: accomplishments, life events, meme, memories

I'm officially tagging MYSELF from LiveLee's meme. So without further ado, here are TEN THINGS ABOUT ME:

1. I am a reformed smoker. July 30, 2007 will be my sixth year of being nicotine-free. Quitting smoking was definitely the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life. And I still get the odd urge every once in a great while. But I know that I don't have to give in to it.

2. I've kept a diary since I was in second grade. I have stacks of books at home that track my life from pretty much age 8. Sometimes I read back on my very first diary and laugh my ass off. I was a pretty precocious child.

3. Keeping on the writing theme: I've been working on something (not sure how I want to categorize it at the moment, so I'm not going to label it) for the past several months. I've written around 42,000 words so far. Fiction. We'll see where it goes. I haven't shown it to anyone yet, not even my husband. It's kind of like my baby. I'm not sure I want anyone to scrutinize it just yet.

4. Living in a hotel for the past two weeks for my new job hasn't been bad, but I'll tell you what has been really difficult: eating out at restaurants three meals a day, five days a week! I never thought I'd say it, but I'm about ready for a home-cooked meal.

5. I love to sing and I sing constantly. I'm not very good, but what I lack in talent, I like to think I make up for in enthusiasm. I especially like to sing in the car. At the top of my lungs. Currently I've been singing along with Alicia Keys' Unplugged on my iPod.

6. For most of my life, I've been pretty certain that I wasn't interested in having kids, but in the past several months I've started feeling like I'm ready. Not sure what's prompted this change, but I'm hoping that 2007 is the year for procreation. (Hear that, honey? Step it up!!)

7. My greatest fear in life is losing loved ones, especially my parents. I'm not really afraid of dying, but sometimes I think about my parents' inevitable deaths and I get very upset. So I try to enjoy every moment that I can with them because I know someday they won't be around.

8. My biggest goal in life is to be happy. In every possible way. I'd like to think that I've been pretty successful in that regard. Overall, I'm pretty damn cheerful and I think of myself as a positive realist.

9. One emotion that I just cannot understand is envy/jealousy. I have rarely felt either. I don't pay much attention to what other people have versus what I have. It's a very foreign concept to me. I guess I'm lucky that way. I tend to focus more on living a life that is meaningful to me, and the only person I'm really interested in competing against is myself. If that makes any sense.

10. The thing that makes me most angry is when people don't listen. That includes people who interrupt, people who try to conduct a conversation with someone else when you're on the phone with them, and people who don't make a sincere effort to understand where someone else is coming from.

I'm tagging anyone who wants to be tagged. Good night!

Labels: accomplishments, deep thoughts, family, friends, life events, meme, memories, writing

I was reviewing the post from the beginning of the year in which I listed my goals for 2006. I wanted to see how many of them I actually accomplished during the year. Here's an update:

1. Be in bed and asleep by 10 p.m. on work nights. Hah!

Even as I wrote that goal, I knew there was no way I'd ever be able to do it consistently. Over the summer I was doing really well, because I was getting up at 5:30 a.m. and going to the gym before work. But in the last couple months, I have been suffering from a serious lack of sleep. So this goal was not fully attained. Bummer.

2. Take a daily multi-vitamin. Even if it's Flintstones.

As if! I took a vitamin faithfully... for about two weeks! Then I forgot. I'm so bad at remembering to take pills, it's a miracle I remembered to take my birth control pills for ten years without any "accidents."

3. Get some form of exercise for at least 30 minutes, at least four days a week. Racquetball, weight-lifting, walking are some ideas.

Unless the weather is really bad, I walk close to three miles every day. Lately I've been slacking off due to holiday crazyness, but otherwise I've stuck to the walking pretty religiously. I do need to start lifting again, though.

4. Plan my meals better so that when I'm hungry, I can eat something nutritious and homemade, thereby reducing the frequency of eating out.

Hmmm...I've tried to do this. Lately I've lost interest in cooking, so I need to get my mojo back in this area.

5. Study for and pass the ASPPA DC-2 exam, so I can get the QKA designation for my job.

Done! In fact I just received my ASPPA QKA certificate and membership card two weeks ago. Yay, me! Now I'm thinking about getting the next designation, which is the Qualified Pension Administrator (QPA). That would entail two more torturous exams, one of which is dedicated solely to Defined Benefit plans...ugh.

6. Start thinking about having a baby. Perhaps.

Still thinking about it. I've been having a lot of baby lust, particularly when I interact with our friends' kids. When we visited Rochester for Thanksgiving, we saw Brian's friends' babies (a one-year old and a six-month old) and when I held them, I really thought my ovaries were going to explode! I just love babies. Frankly, we just need to start having more sex. A LOT more.

7. Travel somewhere fun. No more Caribbean islands, please...I'm talking Europe, Africa, or somewhere I've never visited within the borders of these great United States. I've always wanted to go to a dude ranch. Brian thinks I'm nuts but I'm totally serious. Hee-haw!

Unfortunately, the most exciting trip we took in 2006 was two days outside of Syracuse, NY for a wedding. Not exactly what I had in mind when I wrote "somewhere fun." This year, we MUST go somewhere awesome. Hint, hint...

8. Pay off all the new appliances that we bought when we moved into the new house.

Done! I think we had them all paid off by May.

9. Volunteer.

I was way too busy studying for those ASPPA exams to even think about volunteering. Oh well.

10. Continue on the home improvement spree. I slowed down due to studying for DC-1 and then the holiday onslaught began. Now I have all the time in the world to paint and strip wallpaper!

We definitely did a lot to the house this year. Let's see...we:

-painted the basement, the guest bathroom, the master bedroom, the two guest rooms, the upstairs hallway and stairwell
-removed, repainted, and rehung the vinyl shutters on all the windows, and repainted the front door and the trim around the garage and sidelight to match
-installed a new screen slider to the deck
-removed the old mailbox and installed a new wrought-iron Victorian style mailbox
-removed the handrail next to the front step that had rotted out
-had extensive landscaping done--still a work in progress--including pulling up two dead trees, planting a bunch of shrubs, and laying down 6 yards of mulch around the perimeter of the deck (thank you for doing that, honey!)
-installed a small water feature in the backyard all by ourselves
-installed new light fixtures in the hallway and the guest bathroom
-installed new ceiling fans in two bedrooms, the living room, the family room, and the kitchen
-had new carpeting installed throughout the second floor and the stairwell
-bought new furniture (sofa, chair, and tables) for the basement family room, along with a new TV and a home theatre system
-built a custom upholstered window cornice for the guest bathroom window all by ourselves!
-installed a remote control garage door keypad for outside access
-installed a doorbell chime extender so that we can hear the doorbell in the basement
-installed two self-timers for the outside lights (and almost blew up the house putting in the second one...oops!)
-had a new hot water heater installed
-had a new sump pump system installed
-hung various artwork, candle sconces, and curtain rods throughout the house

Jesus! We did more than I thought this year. Looking at this list, I'm amazed that we ever had any downtime on the weekends to just relax and hang out!

In 2007, I would like to get a shed for the backyard so we can move all the lawn and garden crap out of our garage. I would also like to get a new oven in the kitchen. And maybe a new bed.

Did you meet your goals in 2006? What are your goals for 2007?

Labels: accomplishments, food, health, home improvement, memories, travel, work

I found this incredible photo of the city skyline from Upper Darby, where I grew up. I wish I knew who I could credit for this picture.

Labels: memories, Philadelphia, Upper Darby

One of my favorite holiday traditions from my childhood was going to see the Christmas decorations at the Pflaumers' house in Drexel Hill, PA, known in my family as the "Christmas House." Every year, either my parents, my godmother, or my grandparents would take me over to the large Tudor-style home on Fairfax Road, where I'd stand, mesmerized, admiring the incredible variety of Christmas decorations on and around the property. The Pflaumers owned the Schmidt Brewing Company in Philadelphia, a beer distributorship that was fairly well-known in the area. Mr. Pflaumer wound up in the slammer for tax evasion and eventually had to declare bankruptcy in the 1980s, but that didn't stop him (or his family) from wowing the local residents every year with their Christmas display.

You could actually hear the Christmas House before you saw it, thanks to the holiday music that blared on an endless loop over a loudspeaker system. Often we had to park our car two or three blocks away from the house; there was always a crowd gathered around it, from Thanksgiving all the way up until New Year's, and understandably so: there were so many fantastic sights on the property that one's eyes could hardly rest. Here was a life-sized illuminated Santa's sleigh, complete with eight reindeer, suspended from a pulley system that wound around the side yard of the house. On the front lawn was an enormous Nativity scene, with real straw and a real stable and nearly life-sized figures gathered around the manger. Not to mention all kinds of flashing lights and holiday statuary scattered everywhere. From the peak of the roof, a huge lit-up Santa statue appeared on the verge of climbing into the chimney.

If I had to guess, I'd say that there were easily 50,000 lights in the display, but that may be a conservative estimate. I remember the adults standing around and speculating what the Pflaumers' electric bill must be. There was a hurricane fence erected around the property, and I was always curious if anyone actually lived in the house during the holiday season. I never saw any cars, interior lights, or other signs of life within the house when we went to look at it. Now, as an adult looking back on it, I wonder how the Pflaumers' neighbors tolerated this show year in and year out. As much as I loved going to see it, I can't imagine living next door to it!

I can't remember exactly when I stopped going to see the Christmas House; I suppose it was sometime around the advent of my teenage years, when I thought myself too "cool" to be transported by the extravagance and magic of the display. You know what teenagers are like--nothing impresses them. But now that December is upon us, I've found my thoughts turning back to the Christmas House, wondering if the Pflaumers still put on the display.

Labels: childhood, holidays, memories, nostalgia, Upper Darby

If you had to pick one album to sum up your college years, what would it be?

(If you didn't go to college, answer it anyway, applying the standard college age range of 18-21).

This morning I'm burning some of my CDs into iTunes on my PC at work. Right now I'm listening to Ben Folds' Five's "Whatever and Ever, Amen." This entire album is so evocative of my college years. I got it as a birthday gift when I turned twenty from one of my friends, Big Jon, who attended Widener University.

I partied more at Widener than I did at my own school (which is amazing, considering that West Chester University has a nearly legendary reputation as a huge party school). I even had more friends at Widener and UDel than I did at West Chester! I don't think I could name a single person from West Chester. Oh well. I guess that's what happens when you're NEVER in class. Hee.

Anyway, whenever I hear any song from this album, I am sent back to that time in my life. I remember the good times: sneaking into The Bent Elbo, Abilene and Manny Brown's on South Street, and Walio's Frog Pond (Widener's campus bar) to celebrate their 21st birthdays while I was still underage; smoking bongs in the absolutely decrepit bathroom of the off-campus rowhouse where Jon lived with his two roommates, Pat and Bob; playing Beirut and "Think While You Drink" with them, going to strip bars with them (yes, I did!); going glo-bowling at midnight at Conchester Lanes in Aston.

I also remember the not-so-good times: being in love with David, my ex-boyfriend with the serious drug problem, who never wanted to hang out with my other friends; the handful of one-night stands I had with guys I really liked but who wouldn't commit; watching all my Widener friends graduate (they were a year ahead of me, remember?) and move on with their lives while I was still unhappily stuck at West Chester; and oh yeah--failing out of college. How could I forget that one?

Still, this album never fails to put a smile on my face. All those experiences made me who I am today, and I will always look back fondly on those days.

So tell me about your musical memories from college.

Labels: college, friends, memories, music, nostalgia

(no, I'm not wearing a black leather teddy with a thong and a jaunty cap while prancing around in front of hundreds of horny young Naval officers on a battleship)

Instead, I am TOTALLY stealing this from Teri's blog:

If you could go back in time and tell your 12-year old self ONE thing and one thing only, what would that one thing be?

The difficulty of the assignment? You cannot give that 12-year old you stock tips, lottery numbers, hints to purchase anything like Yahoo or Google, etc. Nothing that will make them infinitely rich.

Rather, the advice would be something for them either to avoid, or to go for, to change or remove from their life so there would be no regrets.

So, with that in mind...what would the adult YOU tell the 12-year old YOU right now to make their life fuller, happier and better?

Leave your answer in the comment section.

PS - Bonus points for anyone who can guess the reference at the top of my post in italics.

Labels: deep thoughts, memories

Hmmm. Seems I have a reader who logged in from a business located at 500 Monument Road...wonder who that could be?

Actually, I do have an idea who that might be.

Edited to add: actually, the address is 150 Monument Road, not 500 Monument Road. Thanks, anonymous commenter, for reminding me!

Let me tell you a nice little story. This is my homage to Ted Casablancas, the gossip columnist from E! That should clear up any questions about the language used in the story.

ONCE upon a time, there were two girls, Dizzy and Lulu, who were best friends from way back. They went to high school together, hung out all the time, were closer than sisters.

Dizzy had the unfortunate habit of dropping her friends every time a new guy entered her life. Lulu overlooked it for a while, because she enjoyed Dizzy's friendship and figured she would grow out of that behavior.

One day, Dizzy met a guy named Vittorio who came along and just swept her off her feet. Like always, Dizzy pulled away from her girlfriends in order to spend every waking moment with Vittorio. At first, Lulu put up with it, but soon she grew tired of Dizzy's disappearing act. Not only that, but Dizzy also shared some not-so-savory things about Vittorio with Lulu. Such as his penchant for calling her fat (Dizzy was a size 10! and was beautiful and statuesque), dicking Dizzy over when they had dates scheduled, and being generally abusive verbally and unavailable emotionally. Yet Dizzy would drop everything and run to Vittorio's beck and call every single time.

Well, Lulu eventually had heard and seen enough. She hated to see her best friend allowing herself to be mistreated, so she began making some noises about Vittorio. As you might imagine, Dizzy didn't take too kindly to this, and even though Lulu had been friends with Dizzy waaaay longer than Vittorio had been in Dizzy's life, guess whose side Dizzy took? Yeah, I know. The man always wins, right?

Then another complication arose: several months after Dizzy began dating Vittorio, Lulu herself began dating a very nice guy named BJ. Dizzy took it upon herself to begin some kind of completely fucked up competition, unbeknownst to Lulu, to see who would get engaged first. Lulu was completely unaware of this competition and in fact wasn't even THINKING of marriage at this point in her life. BJ, however, was. So when BJ popped the question to Lulu, and she said yes, guess who threw a hissy fit because she was NOT the winner of this imaginary contest? Yup. Dizzy was pissed with a capital P. She had been waiting and hoping and scheming and pretty much doing everything in her power to get Vittorio to propose to her, but Lulu (who couldn't have cared less about getting married in the first place!) went and got engaged first, even though BJ and Lulu had been dating five months' shorter than Dizzy and Vittorio. The nerve!!

Lulu, unaware of Dizzy's unhappiness with her betrothal, asked Dizzy to be in her wedding. Dizzy hemmed and hawed, refusing to give Lulu an answer for several weeks. In the meantime, Lulu designed a wedding website for BJ and her. The website was mostly for the benefit of BJ's mother and female relatives, who all lived out-of-state and who felt "out of the loop" of the wedding planning. Because Dizzy had not given Lulu a definitive "yes" or "no" answer about being in her wedding, Lulu didn't include Dizzy's name in the bridal party section of the wedding website.

Dizzy saw this as the perfect excuse to end the friendship. She called Lulu and told her "I just can't take this anymore. You designed a wedding website and didn't even put my name on it for the bridal party, so that does it. I will NOT be in your wedding, since you obviously don't want me to be in it."

Lulu had no idea how to react to this announcement. She felt like she was damned-if-she-did and damned-if-she-didn't. She wouldn't have dreamt of putting Dizzy's name in the bridal party section of her wedding website because Dizzy never committed to it, and Lulu didn't want to put Dizzy in an uncomfortable position. Yet Dizzy took offense to being excluded from the website anyway, even though she never did give Lulu an answer.

Unfortunately, Dizzy never even gave Lulu a chance to explain all this. She stopped taking Lulu's calls and never responded to Lulu's emailed pleas to discuss it.

THE END.

Pretty immature, huh?

Labels: friends, memories, technology, weird, writing