DAY 188: RABBIT RABBIT RABBIT HARE HARE HARE

     My freshman high school English teacher used to tell us that if you said "rabbit rabbit rabbit" as the last thing you say at night on the last day of the month and then say "hare hare hare" as the first thing in the morning when you wake up on the first day of the next month you'd have good luck all month long.  I tried to remember to do this at the end of each month.  I'd get so far as saying "rabbit rabbit rabbit" as my last words at night, but would forget the "hare hare hare" in the morning.  But I'm planning on doing both tonight and tomorrow morning so that February 2012 is a great month.
     I also checked my English teacher's idea out to see if it's actually true.  And here's what I found on wikipedia:  "Rabbit rabbit" is a common British superstition. The most common modern version states that a person should say "rabbit, rabbit, white rabbit", "rabbit, rabbit, rabbit", "rabbits, rabbits, rabbits", "rabbit, rabbit" or simply "white rabbits" upon waking on the first day of each new month, and on doing so will receive good luck for the duration of that month. In the US, the tradition is especially common in Nantucket, Cape Cod, other towns within Massachusetts and throughout Vermont, notably in Middlebury and Chester."  
     The website also said: "The earliest referenced usage may be to saying "rabbits" three times before going to sleep the last night of the month, and then "hares" three times first thing upon waking, though just two years later, it was three "rabbits" in the morning with no "hares" at all."  So maybe I was lucky all those times I forgot the "hares."

DAY 187: SOCKS AROUND MY ANKLES

      I couldn't find a pair of socks this morning but I somehow had a pair of knee-hi's in my purse from when I tried on a pair of shoes at Banana Republic this weekend.  So I put those on.  Bad move.  In just the walk from my apartment to my car, the knee-hi's were slipping down my legs.  By the time I made it to my office they war around my ankles.  Not a nice look.  And not a particularly good feeling either.
     I had to get resourceful, which reminded me of my maternal grandfather.  For some reason he too had loose socks and when he didn't wear sock garters for men he'd improvise and use rubber bands to keep his socks up.  "Just roll 'em right up your leg, he'd told me and then fold your sock down over the rubber band a bit--no one will ever know."  For the record, my grandpa grew up during the Great Depression.  His wife, my grandma, told us how she never had that many toys growing up and that she would use shoe boxes as cradles and cribs for her baby doll.  She'd poke a hole through the shoe box, knot a string through it and then drag her doll around in it's "crib" by pulling the shoebox by the string.  (My sister and I mimicked this behavior for one of our stuffed animals.  Yes, stuffed yellow dogs with plastic eyes need cribs too.)
     Anyway, back to the sock garters.  I don't have a pair (I hope this point is obvious) and so I had to use rubber bands today to keep my socks up.  Shhh, don't tell.  Now, I'm pretty sure my grandpa would have kept those socks and use rubber bands to keep them up the next time he wore them.  Very economical.  Me--I trashed those poorly elasticized knee hi's the minute I got home.  What time is it?  Time for some sock shopping.

DAY 186: SARAH'S KEY

     I just finished watching the most beautiful movie--Sarah's Key.  Coincidentally, earlier today, my friend told me she just bought the book with the same name.  I'd met my friend out for some drinks with her neighbors.  She knows a bunch of hers, I know none of mine.  What's interesting is in the movie Sarah's Key, the Jewish family, Sarah's family, lives in a building with three other families, probably thinking they knew their neighbors.  But when the French police came to round up all the Jews to take them to camps and eventually to Auschwitz, Sarah's non-Jewish, bottom floor neighbor tried to tell the police where Sarah's brother might have been hiding.  Morale of the story: people aren't always what they seem and you probably don't really know your neighbors that well, even if you think you do.

DAY 185: PEER PRESSURE

     I'm so proud of myself for not giving in to peer pressure today at this Gilt City warehouse sale.  Everyone was going around hoarding boots, purses and clothes.  I started grabbing things too and then I realized I didn't even need the stuff or that it wasn't that great; so I put it all back.
     Just because all the other girls were buying stuff didn't mean I needed to too.  And I didn't leave the sale feeling bad that I wasn't carrying any shopping bags.  Whew!  What a relief.  Sometimes it's just better to wait for the things you really want and not buy a bunch a crap just because it's on sale.

DAY 184: HAPPY HALF BIRTHDAY TO ME

     Today's my half birthday!  I've been writing this blog for 6 months now and I haven't missed a day.  Now some days aren't that riveting, but I'm trying...

DAY 183: UGG I BOUGHT UGGS...

     Ugg I bought Uggs.  Yep I got on than bandwagon.  But for the record they are Uggs slippers and I don't plan to wear them outside of my house...ever.  They are so comfy and they don't make my feet sweaty--top that regular slippers!

DAY 182: WHAT'S BEHIND TOM'S SHOES

     I was talking to someone the other day who'd just bought a new pair of Tom's Shoes and he said "see I give back."  My sister takes issue with the whole Tom's Shoes phenomenon and I see her point.  
     The idea behind the shoes is that for every $60 pair you buy, Tom's donates a pair to a poor child in Africa.  But, the reality is that African people have been getting by for millennium without shoes.  (In fact people in India have too--my dad ran around Delhi, India barefoot and I blame his EEE wide feet on all that barefoot running.  He had to special order his New Balance tennis shoes and his dress shoes for work).  It's FOOD these African children can't live without.  So, it would be better for Tom's corporation to donate food, not shoes. 

DAY 181: EMAIL REJECTION

     Because none of my friends would do it and because I was curious, I went to the website I'd read about in Elle magazine, called Tawkify.com.  I input some information, received a call from a robot and then filled out some more information.  I then received message that a guy, a match, would call me.  
     Well, well, well, I received no such call.  Instead I received the following email.  My response to it would be one word--typical.  And I should add--they always want your money.


My dear Miss XXXXXX,

 This is heinous! Horrible!  Practically

a catastrophe!

But . . . Alas, it is your own darn fault that I can’t

IMMEDIATELY find a wonderful match for you.

You are too accomplished, too beautiful, too witty,

too interesting!  I don’t have a chap worthy of you.

(We have some extremely charming fellows,

just not right for you.  Trust me.)

Look forward to matching you soonest!  And, of course,

it would help if you paid for a match.

Ravishing regards,

E. Jean

DAY 180: HOT DIGGITY

     I'm happy to report got to attend my first Mavs game of the year tonight.  Finally, a sporting event that I actually understand!  Sorry football, you're just not my go-to.

DAY 179: SUNDAY NIGHT TV

      Why are there so many good shows on Sunday night?  The Good Wife; Homeland (when the new season starts in the fall); House of Lies; Pan Am; and Mad Men (once it starts again).  And the best part is being able to DVR them all so you can stretch them out and watch them during the week.

DAY 178: CHRISTOPHER KANE CATWALK

     A couple of summers ago in London, I bought the skirt that was in the same collection as this dress.  The salesman at Harvey Nichols in London told me that he was with one of his clients at the fashion show when the skirt made by Scottish born and London based designer Christopher Kane was walked down the runway.  His client told him the store had to buy it.
     No one had purchased the skirt at its original 3,000 sterling pounds, so I was able to buy it for the bargain price of 90 pounds!  What a deal.  I haven't had many occasions to wear it; but I'm wearing the skirt tonight to my friend's engagement party.

DAY 177: SUPER SMART SISTER

     I was thinking about my sister today and how she's one of the smartest people I know.  For example, when she was in kindergarten a classmate tried to cheat off of my sister's test, I think it was one of those standardized ones.  My sister let the little girl copy her answers.  The little girl did and then turned in her test.  My sister then took her eraser and erased all of her answers on her own test and filled in the correct ones.  What a smarty pants!  She'd let the little girl cheat, but gave her all the wrong answers.  I love it.  Who does that?  And what 5 year old does that?  The answer--a smart one.  Well played sis!  Well played.

DAY 176: FRENCH BARRETTES

     Couple of questions:  Why are French barrettes so good?  Where did they get their reputation for being better than every other countries' barrettes?  How come my Indian grandmother will only wear French barrettes in her hair?  Who told her French barrettes were the best?
     I don't know the answer to any of these questions.  And yet, I too, try to only buy and wear French barrettes.

DAY 175: BAD BIRTHDAYS

     Someone asked me to do something in March and the first thing that popped into my head when she said the date was "oh that was my first boyfriend's, the first boy I ever kissed's birthday."  Why do I remember his birthday and the birthday of every other boyfriend I've had and some guys I've just dated?    
     All these dates just swirl around in my head years later.  I don't even talk to these guys anymore.  I'm not friends with them and I don't want to be friends with them.  That's my rule--not to be friends with an ex-boyfriend.  We weren't friends to begin with so why be friends going forward?  So if this is how I feel and how I live my life (which it is) how come I still remember all of these bad birthdays, but I can't remember the name of someone whom I just met and was introduced to?  Ugg, I hate that.  I really really hate that.

DAY 174: SWEATER WEATHER

     I just love when it gets cold in Dallas, because I finally wear my coats and sweaters for a couple of days.  I even get sad when the weather warms up because that means I can't wear my sweaters anymore, plus the heat will be here soon (and long) enough in Dallas.  It's supposed to get really cold tonight, in the 30s--I'm holding out for a few more days like this so I can pull out my rabbit fur coat I bought in Argentina years ago and never have occasion to wear.  Please stay cold!

DAY 173: HAPPY MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. DAY!

     I'll admit I didn't do anything for MLK Day this year.  Last year I went to hear the lawyer who represented Rosa Parks speak.  I also tried to convince my former employer to recognize the holiday in an all-company email, on our internal home page or in the company newsletter.  My boss blew me off and sent me to HR to discuss with them and then HR ignored me--telling me the company had bigger things to worry about (well turns out it did have bigger problems to worry about, remember it filed bankruptcy last week).  Well that attitude pissed me off and jaded me a bit.  Kind of like when I was the Diversity Chair for the Junior League.  People like to talk about diversity, but not many people want to effect change or be part of the action.

     Anyway, last week I attended a dinner for young lawyers hosted by the Diversity Committee where one of the authors of Same Kind of Different as Me spoke.  It was a great event and made me want to read the book.  So I celebrated MLK Day a bit early this year; but I still plan on watching the I Have a Dream speech tonight.

DAY 172: HOW RICH PEOPLE STAY RICH

     An old boss of mine was at a Brooks Brothers store a couple of years ago.  Brooks Brothers was open early and customers could save an extra 30% or maybe it was 50% if they purchased their items before 9am.  My then boss waited his turn in the checkout line while an older gentleman checked out.  He heard the salesman say to that man: "It's always a pleasure to see you Mr. Perot, we'll have those suits shipped directly to your house."
     The older man thanked the salesman and walked out of the store before 9am, saving the additional percentage off his suits and blazers.  That older man was Ross Perot.  And that's how rich people stay rich, they too take advantage of sales and coupons.  Ross Perot surely didn't need that extra percentage off his clothes that morning, but he made a special trip to Brooks Brothers to ensure he received it.  This is a lesson we should all be happy to learn.  If Ross Perot does it, then I have no qualms using my Groupons, my newspaper clipped coupons and the coupons I print off the internet.

DAY 171: PREGNANCY TESTS AT TARGET

     I'm pretty sure I just saw a couple waiting beside their car outside of a Target looking at a small white stick.  The looks on their faces were pained and it seemed as if they were waiting for something to happen--for something to happen to the stick.  Presumably they were looking at a pregnancy test.
     I wasn't that surprised.  It's nothing I haven't seen before.  You see I used to work at Target.  The summer between high school and college I worked at a Target store in Albuquerque as the telephone operator and fitting room attendant.  As the operator I got to sit in the fitting room and simultaneously answer the phone, say "Target on Montgomery, may I help you?" and check people in and out of the fitting room.  My sister loves how for one of the summer back-to-school promotions I'd give out coupons for a free bag of popcorn at the Target snack bar if a customer tried on a pair of jeans.  I had a to wear a t-shirt that said "try on any denim and get a free bag of popcorn."
     Anyway, being the fitting room attendant meant I also had to clean the fitting room.  The Target customers in my home town did some interesting things in the fitting rooms.  At different times during my tenure at Target I found: a plastic cd case cut open with blood all over it--someone had used a pocket knife or no knife to jimmy out the cd and cut him or herself in the process--I had to get the first aid kit and put on latex gloves to clean up that bloody mess; several stolen, half eaten snack items; stolen box of condoms with the condoms missing; and the most disgusting thing was a USED pregnancy test.  The woman who'd taken the test off the shelf decided not to go to the rest room to take the test.  Instead she urinated on the white stick in the fitting room.  Oh and she took the test with her, but left the pregnancy test wrapper and a wet spot for me to deal with--that's when I called maintenance.  I mean really, cleaning up used pregnancy tests wasn't in the Target On-Stage job responsibilities manual.  Give me a break.

DAY 170: IT'S FRIDAY THE 13TH AND I'M NOT SCARED

     Usually on Friday the 13ths I'll insist on renting scary movies and watching them all night.  That's not my main plan tonight, but I'll consider doing that after I get home from sushi dinner.  You just never know what's going to happen on a Friday the 13th.  Other than that I'm not superstitious that something bad is going to happen and I don't get why some buildings won't number the 13th floor in an elevator--that just makes the 14th floor the real 13th floor.  It's not like a 13th floor doesn't exist just because you don't number it.  Come on people, we know how to count.

DAY 169: IMPORTED FROM DETROIT

     I've got to hand it to Chrysler, its slogan "Imported from Detroit" is genius.  I spent four years in the great state of Michigan for college and we only drove to Detroit from Ann Arbor once in a great while.  It was far, it was dirty, it had boarded up stores and there was smoke literally coming out of the pot holes.  But that slogan and those Chrysler cars driving down the road make me want to go to Detroit.
     I've been to Detroit to attend concerts.  I've gone to the Detroit Institute of Arts Museum to see the Diego Rivera murals of industry and technology.  I've driven past the Joe Louis fist and arm.  I've gone out in Detroit at the Motor Lounge and danced my ass off with my college friends.  And I've driven through Detroit (I think) on the way to Windsor, Canada to go drinking.  I'm not really sure on that last one.  I never drove to Windsor, I was a back seat passenger, eager to get to Windsor where the drinking age was 19, so my roommate--who was younger than the rest of us--could finally buy a legal drink, could finally be happy and would finally shut up.

DAY 168: CHAPTER 22

     Well folks, they did it again.  Today Hostess, the company I used to work for, filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy protection for the second time.  Hence, the chapter 22 reference.  All I can say is thank goodness I'm not there anymore; and how bad I feel for the good, hard-working people who are there and will be affected by what happened today.

DAY 167: ORANGE CUTIES

     My company caters in lunch for us every day.  Yes, it's amazing.  In addition to lunch it provides snacks of all kinds: chips, pretzels, cereal bars, 100 calorie packs, candy, mixed nuts, soda, gatorade, juice and fruit.  Those snacks are there all the time.  It's like a 24/7 convenience store.
     People go nuts for the fruit.  We usually get apples and oranges, mostly Cuties.  And when there's fruit in the kitchen you'd better grab it quick.  Take a couple of pieces of fruit or you won't be able to get any in 13 minutes let alone in an hour.
     Anyway, those Cuties remind me of my father and sister.  The two of them used to sit on the floor of our family room and peel those mandarin oranges as they watched NBA basketball games.  When I think of those two that's one of my most vivid memories.  They got along so well when they were watching sports and eating oranges.  It's such a random thing to remember, but it's all I can think of tonight while the Mavericks play the Pistons.  (And how I used to love Dennis Rodman when he played for the Pistons and the Bulls.  Seriously I loved that guy.)

DAY 166: PRE-CLEANING

     Why do so many people clean up/straighten up before their housekeeper comes?  Is it because they don't want to lose something and if they put things away and know where they are there'll be less chance of missing items after the housekeeper leaves?  I think so; and it cracks me up.  My ex-step monster used to always say she had to tidy up before the maid came and I thought she was off her rocker.  But now I get it. And that's the one thing I'll probably ever semi agree with her on.  She was off her rocker all the rest of the time.

DAY 165: SH*T MY DATES SAY

     Remember how I said I'd received some text messages wishing me at happy new year and how I wondered if any of those messages would lead to actual dates?  Well they did.  I had four dates this past week.  How's that for a conversion factor?
     Most of these dates were normal.  We talked about regular things and nothing super strange happened.  Except on one of the dates.  I met my date at a bar.  He was already there waiting for me.  I took off my coat and ordered one of the bar's Prohibition Era cocktails.  I'd barely had one sip when my date asked if he could try my drink.  I'd just sat down.  I'd just met him and he already wanted to share something.  I knew I'd feel like a jerk if I responded "no" so I gave in and let him have a sip.  But I didn't want him to try my drink, he didn't even ask to use a straw.
     Then later on in the date he asked if he could touch my hair.  Yes, I'm serious.  He asked to touch my hair--apparently he'd never touched curly hair before.  Again, I said "ok" and let him touch my hair, even though I became repulsed by whole situation.
     And because the third time's a charm, he asked to try my second drink when I ordered it.  Hey, I have an idea, if you want to try more than the one type of drink you've ordered twice, then order a new drink and stop asking to try mine.  Ugg.  I wish I'd stood up to him and said no, no and no to all three of his requests.  But I never said I was a master dater and this kind of clarity comes to me later long after the date is over.  Like now.  Bottom line, I'm not feeling a second date with this guy who apparently felt so comfortable with me.
     Now, I'm not saying I don't say strange things on dates.  Last summer on a date at the Rangers baseball game I told my date that I had swamp ass.  There's nothing nice or ladylike about that comment or about having that condition, but I thought it was hysterical and it was unfortunately true.  My date was not amused at first, but then admitted it was pretty funny.  Hey, that's what you get for taking me to a baseball game in Texas in the August summer heat promising we'll get to sit in air-conditioning for part of the game and then never taking me to the a/c.  For the record, that relationship didn't last.  We didn't understand each other's humor.  And I'd like to also report that he had swamp-ass too.  I saw his butt cheek sweat marks on his seat when we got up to leave.  So there.

DAY 164: SORRY MOLLY

     So sorry Molly, we opted for high cotton.  I got last minute the tickets (in a suite) to the Cotton Bowl.  What would've you done?  The game was fun and I saw a guy dressed up like a true Arkansas Razorback, he had a fur pelt on his back and some wicked red and white face paint.  What a scary fan...oops I mean super fan.

DAY 163: THE MOLLY RINGWALDS

     That Molly Ringwald, not only did she get to kiss Andrew MCcarthy and the actor that played Jake Ryan and be best buddies with the character Duckie, she got an entire cover band named after her.  They're a British cover band to boot.  And I'm going to see that band tonight.  I wonder if they all wear red hair wigs.

DAY 162: IT'S CORTISONE SHOT TIME

     A month, two x-rays, three doctor visits (including the emergency room), and several pain pills later, I finally got a cortisone shot for my elbow.  The shot itself wasn't that bad, but the PAIN that came afterward was in a word painful.
     My doctor gave me the shot yesterday morning and I'm feeling a little better right now.  He said the steroid doesn't start kicking in until today.  In the meantime, I've been instructed to rest my elbow--no tennis, no golf, no weights, no a lot of things.  My doctor even said not to shake hands, open doors or jars with my right hand.  It's going to be an interesting few weeks...

DAY 161: WOULD'VE, SHOULD'VE, COULD'VE

      Happy (would have been) Birthday Mom!  Today would have been my mom's 65th birthday.  I wish I'd known my mother as an adult.  The last time I spoke to her I was 10 years old; I hadn't gotten my period yet; I'd never kissed a boy; I hadn't started middle school; I hadn't had my first job; etc.  It'd be nice to know her as an adult and talk to her about the things going on in my life now.

DAY 160: A PLACE OF YES

     For this new year, I'm reading A Place of Yes by Bethenny Frankel.  I like what she says in the introduction:  "I'm not the kind of person who goes along with the crowd, nods and smiles, or compromises to avoid conflict.  In fact, I try not to go along with the crowd." Damn straight sister, damn straight.  Life's too short.

DAY 159: A BUCK 50

     When I was younger and I saw ads on TV for car payments as low as $299, I'd hear that to mean the car cost $2.99.  I'd run and tell my parents I'd found them a great deal.  They'd smile and continue to read the New York Times or do whatever they happened to be doing.
     The young daughter character in the movie We Bought a Zoo did the same thing.  When calculating the bill for maintenance at their zoo an employee tells the Matt Damon father character it will cost "a buck fifty."  The daughter questions: "A dollar and fifty cents?  I have that in my piggy bank."  Awwww, to be young again.
     I also used to think that those Don't Drink and Drive signs meant Dad couldn't drink his can of A&W root beer while he drove our family station wagon...

DAY 158: WAKE UP AND SMELL THE TEXT MESSAGE

     Happy New Year!  What I've learned since midnight is that people, strike that, guys--if I may generalize--nowadays will only text you, they will not phone you.  I received quite a few Happy NYE texts from different guys.  I'm curious how long these texting relationships will last and if any of them will ever develop into real, full blown communicative relationships where we speak on the phone or dare I suggest, meet in person.  It's all to be seen.  I guess that's what the New Year is all about--the anticipation of what will or could happen.