Monday, April 30, 2012


     I’d admired my friend’s shiny gold Michael Kors satchel bag for months.  So when I saw the smaller version of that bag in the nickel color at T.J. Maxx this past weekend, I bought it.  Well “bought” is an interesting word to describe my experience.  
     I shopped the store for a while finding more and more items.  When I finally lugged three pairs of shoes, a pair of pajamas and the purse to the checkout counter I’d created a small mountain of goods between me and the checkout person.  He rung up my purchases and I gave him my credit card.  Normal transaction, right?  Wrong.  When I checked my receipt later I noticed that he didn’t charge me for the purse.  He’d removed the security sensor from it, but he forgot (I presume) to ring it up.  I’d left there with a free bag! 
     It wasn’t that much of an ethical dilemma.  I knew I had to go back there and pay for it, even though I really didn’t want to.  Of course I wanted to keep it without being charged for it, but that was wrong.  When I went back the next day, my unpaid for purse in tow, I asked for the store’s manager.  I explained the situation to her and she couldn’t believe I had brought back the purse and wanted to pay for it.  Come again?   She was flabbergasted that I didn’t take the purse and run.  She told me I was “the nicest person” and that “good karma would be coming my way.”  At least I’ll be using a really cool purse when that karma finally gets here…    

Sunday, April 29, 2012


     Last night my friend and I went to Korean Town for a birthday party.  We started with dinner at a Korean bar-b-que place and ended at a Korean karaoke place.  We knew it's be a long drive to get there, so we took a cab.  We take this kind of stuff very seriously.
     As soon as we got to the restaurant the drinking began.  I ordered a bottle (yes a bottle) of Korean black raspberry wine.  It had a 15% alcohol volume.  Then I ordered a second bottle.  This wine is like port and is poured into small shot like glasses.  I kept purring myself a shot of raspberry wine about every 5 minutes.  At karaoke, I moved on to vodka--it really helps with the singing.  If you've never been to a Korean karaoke place, I highly recommend it.  You and your friends get your own room.  Ours had nice couches and T.V.s on each wall.  The place provided several song selection books and three remotes.  You select your song while sitting on the couch.  There's no line or slips of paper or some guy in charge of selecting the songs.  you and your friends are in charge.  It was awesome.  So much fun.  We had such good time that we ending up having to go through the McDonald's drive thru at 2 a.m.  Now that's a good night.

Saturday, April 28, 2012


     I went to the new nail place that opened across the street from me.  I planned to only get a manicure and a pedicure.  Then I read the menu of service.  Ear candle caught my attention.  Why?  I have no idea. could it be the ear infection my sister had when we lived on 110th and Broadway in New York that had her waiting in a Harlem ER waiting room for half the day to get something done to her ear that involved a wick?  Again I'm not sure.
     But I decided to splurge and get the ear candle done.  Why not?  Let me start by saying a neck and face massage was included with the ear candle.  And Michael, the guy who had given me my pedicure, had also given me the best foot massage/leg massage I've ever had in life!  So when he said he did the massage and the ear candle--I was in.
     I asked Michael if a lot of wax came out of my ear.  Of course I asked that; and you would too.  You know it.  He said yes and then showed me.  All I can say is DISGUSTING.  Who knew I was walking around everywhere with that much crap in my ears.  No wonder I can't hear that well sometimes.  Ear wax.  Well problem solved.  I adore you new nail spa across the street from my apartment.  I can't wait to go back.  Oh and it was so relaxing there.  No TVs, no satellite radio, just calm, relaxing waterfall sounds and peace.  What a gem of a place.

Friday, April 27, 2012


     My dad had a thing for famous people.  He was excited that they were filming one of the Ghostbusters movies at the St. Luke’s Roosevelt hospital in New York where this woman he was dating worked.  She invited him to one of the filming days.  Everything was going splendidly, until Bill Murray tried to lift up my dad’s girlfriend’s sweater.  Yes, Bill Murray really did try to do that and my dad was none too pleased.  However, I don’t get to say my dad punched Bill Murray or started an altercation.  Dang it!

     Then came my sister’s move to college; Stanford to be exact.  She was in the same class as Chelsea Clinton.  Now, my dad didn’t move me out to Ann Arbor.  He saw me off at the Albuquerque airport with my then step monster (the lady whose bra Bill Murray tried to see), my sister and my first grade friend—well until he started to get teary eyed and left to go back to work.  But he moved my sister to Palo Alto.  And he wasn’t doing it to be helpful to my sister.  He made that “college move” trip to see President Clinton, who was president at the time.  Dad found the President in Chelsea’s room ratcheting up her bed so that she could store clothes and other junk underneath it.  He didn’t do anything like that for my sister, but instead came running into her room while she was doing manual labor to tell her he’d just seen Bill.  Good going Dad.
     And when my dad found out I met Jerry Seinfeld in Spain, well in two words, he went ape shit.  Literally.  He was floored.  This was back when cameras took film and you had to develop it to see the pictures.  I developed the film from my camera housing my photos with Jerry, had double prints made and priority mailed them to my dad.  I missed my sister’s high school graduation since I was still in Seville, but Dad took those photos with me and Jerry to the graduation ceremony and passed them around like candy.  He wanted everyone to know I’d met a T.V. star.  I’m sure my sister was reeling over this.  I would have been.  It was her graduation for goodness sake.
     And don’t forget when my dad attended law school in Denver (he went to law school after he retired from his career as an engineer at age 58) during Kobe Bryant’s sexual harassment trial.  While shopping at the Cherry Creek Mall he saw Kobe Bryant’s defense lawyer Pamela Mackey.  My dad went up to the petite woman and told her what a good job she was doing defending Kobe against the rape accusations.  Hey, what can I say, he was a huge basketball fan. 

Thursday, April 26, 2012


     I may not be able to play tennis right now due to my injured elbow, but my USTA membership came in handy today.  That USTA membership allowed me to participate in the US Open Advance ticket sale and I bought my sister tickets to the tennis.  What’s that?  Is that applause I hear?  Yes, thank you; I am a good sister!  The sale’s actually been going on since Tuesday, but she only asked me to get her tickets today.  So even though they are far back I was still able to get early tickets and in my book that still makes me a pretty good sister.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012


     Years ago my dad took my sister and I on a vacation to San Francisco.  The woman my dad was dating (and later married for a short period of time) flew in from New York and met us there.  I turned thirteen on that trip and I'll never forget getting to our room at the Millefiori Inn and seeing a carafe of wine on the bedside table.  I tried some--hey it was there--and I almost spit it out.
     But one of the more memorable things from that trip was all of the waitresses we had.  They were terrible.  They were mean.  They were rude.  And for some reason they all kept telling us whenever we ordered something that there was a minimum. We got it.  Why keep telling a group of four "there's a minimum?"  We're most likely going to meet the minimum-there's four of us, we need to eat and we don't have a refrigerator back in our hotel rooms where we're storing food thereby not making us hungry.
     After the first two times a waitress hissed "there's a minimum" to us, it became our joke.  We'd get to a new restaurant and see if the waitress would spew the same line as the last one.  And low and behold she would.  My sister and I'd end up cackling and almost falling out of our booth because we were laughing so hard.  We decided that all of our waitresses had attended the San Francisco School of Waitressing, because where else and why else would they all have been saying the exact same thing?

Tuesday, April 24, 2012


     Man, I’ve been making the rounds lately to talks and speeches.  Tonight I saw a panel of the male actors on the show Modern Family.  That show is in my top 5 (of shows currently on the air).  It’s well written and the actors are hilarious.  And those guys live did not disappoint!
     Funny thing is one of them; the actor who plays Mitchell grew up in my hometown of Albuquerque and acted in plays at the Albuquerque Little Theater.  I might have seen that redhead when I was little.  Small world.  Who said the Burque doesn’t develop actors or have anything going for it?  (You know that t-shirt that reads: “New Mexico Cleaner than Old Mexico.” My sister and I think this t-shirt is hilarious.  My sister had planned on buying it, but when she went to visit business schools a group of Latino students was staging a protest and protesting that exact shirt!  And what do you think happened next?  She didn’t buy the shirt.)  Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Neil Patrick Harris both attended high school in Albuquerque with my first grade friend.  And there’s your random factoid of the day.

Monday, April 23, 2012


     I think guys are way more into pictures than girls are...or the guys I’ve met recently are getting accustomed to using their phones as photo albums to show girls all their pictures.  It’s a pretty good prop if the conversation hits a lull. 
     The problem is how many pictures are too many?  One or two pictures of your niece or dog—that’s fine; over fifty pictures of your recent vacation—that might be a tad too many.  I went on first date recently and the guy showed me so many vacation pictures I started to get bored.  Yes, the Ice Hotel is cool.  But every single picture you took while in Sweden while you were at the hotel and not at the hotel made me start to think that we might not have that much to talk about if you hadn’t had all those pictures with you.  (Turns out I didn’t even need to worry about that, since I never heard from that guy again.  Hmm, maybe he caught on to my lacking interest—but it was related to the photos only not to him or the date in general.  Who knows?  What can you do?) 
     Don’t get me wrong, girls take a ton of photos too.  Who doesn’t nowadays when you have a camera phone at your fingertips every single second of the day?  I’m proud to say I actually print my photos and put them in albums or frames.  I try not to let them exist only online or on a cloud. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012


     I saw the writer David Sedaris speak tonight.  He was hilarious and had me crying.  What a great humorist.  His timing is spot on.
     My friend and I were very green tonight.  We rode bikes from her house to the Sedaris event at SMU's college campus.  I got to borrow her husband's bike and sweaty (well dried sweat, but you know what I mean) bike helmet.  At least she lowered the seat for me.  I'm just kidding it wasn't that bad.  We had a great time.  And she did buy me dinner.  So a pretty good date night, with my married girlfriend.

Saturday, April 21, 2012


     I shot my first gun today during a sporting clays event.  When I told my friend I'd pick her, I said "I'll pick you up for the shooting."  That just doesn't sound right.
     It took a while to get used to shooting a rifle, a 20 gauge, in case anyone was curious.  I actually managed to hit a couple clays, which makes the event a million times more fun than if I'd gone home without any dead ones.

Friday, April 20, 2012


     Why are hotel ballrooms ALWAYS freezing?  I just spent the last two days in one for a continuing legal education seminar and now I'm finally thawing out.  Not cool.  Oh and for the record, not much fun either.

Thursday, April 19, 2012


     Tonight I saw Judy Blume speak.  It was the 40th anniversary of her book Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing.  Ms. Blume is 74 years old and she was so much fun.  She answered as many audience questions as she could and was so kind with the children.  Her Q&A tonight made me nostalgic for elementary school and getting to read all of her good for the first time.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012


     Here's a list of things (that have happened to me) that should not be happening in a 6am spin class:

     1.  The person on the bike next to me shouldn't have such rank breath that I can smell it while I'm in the saddle of my own bike (minding my own business--I don't talk to anyone, it's 6am for goodness sake).  Is it that hard to brush your teeth before you head to the gym?  I know it's early, but let me remind you that the gym also provides mouth wash in the locker rooms--please use some, one swish will do.  I am not into halitosis.

     2.  The instructor's music should not be so loud that I need ear plugs.  This is exercise time.  This isn't a heavy metal concert, or is it?

     3.  The guy on the bike next to me should not be sweating so profusly that I can feel his sweat splattering on me.  Come on!  Use that towel the gym provides, use ten towels, I could care less if it seems wasteful, just use one, and use it often.

     4.  One shouldn't have to wake up at 4am, 48 hours before the scheduled class to sign up for a bike.  What is going on in that class that it books up immediately?  Is the instructor getting naked up there?  I want to know and I can't see from the cheap seats, I mean bikes in the back.  (For the record I refuse to wake up this early.  The gym does save 10 bikes in the back for people; so I try to get one of these saved bikes on the actual day of the class, 5 minutes before it starts--this practice is not always successful.)  I do know the 6am spin class is a meeting place for gay men at my gym.  It seems a couple gay guys have met boyfriends there and that's why it's so popular.  What about the single ladies?  There's no prime real estate left for male eligible heterosexual bike riders to join the class.  Very disappointing.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012


     I got lost on my way to work this morning, which means a variety of things.  First, I wasn’t paying attention.  Second, I should really pay to get the maps updated on my piece of crap, ancient GPS.  Third, who gets lost on her way to work?—a place she goes every day, like clockwork.
     Like an idiot, I exited the highway one exit too early.  I have no idea why I did this (told you not paying attention).  Usually this wouldn’t present a problem.  But it does when that exit is blocked and there are signs re-routing drivers on some detour that wouldn’t allow me to get back on the highway…even just to get to the next exit (the one I needed may I remind you).  Since I couldn’t get back to the highway, I turned on my GPS.  The problem with that was my GPS kept rerouting me back to the normal way it had mapped out, not taking into consideration the construction and detour. 
     If I had one of those new GPS devices with lifetime maps, current traffic conditions and all the bells and whistles, I wouldn’t have been cursing at myself at the top of my lungs and I wouldn’t have been late to work.  And no I don’t have an iPhone.  Yes, I know iPhones have GPS applications on them.  And yes, I am highly aware that I am still living in the twentieth century or some half floor or half century in-between the twentieth and the twenty-first centuries.  But I am going to get one of those fancy phones when I get my next upgrade from Verizon in September. 

Monday, April 16, 2012


     I went to yoga this morning and pilates this evening and still couldn't get the hunch out of my shoulders--it was actually a huge knot.  So I got a 15 minute chair massage after my pilates class and the masseur told me that emotional stress or my sitting at a desk typing at a computer 8 plus hours a day was causing my tensed up, knotted muscles.
     Emotional stress?  I'll admit I got some news this weekend that threw me for a loop and created some  emotional stress in my life.  But I wasn't banking on that emotional stress to cause my body to contort to the point of muscle spasm.  Don't mind me, I going to heat up my heating pad and possibly clean my bath tub so I can take a bath full of epsom salts.  Just call me grandma.

Sunday, April 15, 2012


     I love the Target commercials.  The one that's running now with the song Allouette is so much fun.  My mom used to sing that song to us as kids, so I end up singing it around my apartment after I hear it in the Target commercial.  And if I see the commercial was on during a show that I DVRed, I won't fast forward through it.

Saturday, April 14, 2012


     No it's not the future, when seeing movie at the movie theater will actually cost $20, it's the Dallas International Film Festival.  My friend and I have tickets to one of the films tonight.  Our tickets costs $20 each, my friend was not impressed by the price.
     I'm a little nervous about the movie we're going to see.  It's called Hello I Must Be Going and it's about a girl who's 35 and has to movie back in with her parents.  Now if that's my future, then I'm really screwed.  I don't have any parents to move back in with.  I guess I could move to India and live with my grandma.  I have a feeling I'm going to leave this movie depressed and it's Saturday night for crying out loud.

Friday, April 13, 2012


  I have some friends that are real sticklers about grammar.  I get annoyed by it, but usually let it go since I myself forget to spell check.  Plus, my sentence structure isn't always proper--I know that, I'm doing it on purpose as part of my own writing style.  However, these mistakes really chap my hide when someone’s just met me and (1) is (I’m assuming) trying to make a good impression or (2) doesn't even know he doesn't have a command of the English language. 
     I met someone who called me and then immediately after leaving a voicemail sent me a text message; a text message rife with grammatical errors.  I know it’s hard to get them all straight.  But there is a difference between you, you're and your; it’s and its; and they’re, their and there (I’m truly surprised I have to mention this one, but hey, what can you do?).  So when a text begins “hi their” I cringe.  Where and when would that ever be right?  Never.  Never ever.  My friends said maybe spell check missed it or he was in a rush.  Well if you’re in a rush to send a message to someone you want to hear from again, then I’d proof read.  Or to avoid this entire situation, my advice: stop while you’re ahead.  Leave a voicemail and wait.  Don’t send an immediate text reiterating what you just said in your voicemail; because that partially incoherent text was the kiss of death for me. 
     And while we’re on the topic, when I send a message with the word “stalking” in the message (I was making a point about Google stalking) don’t respond to that message referring to it as Google “stocking.”  I mean really, that was a gimmie.  I just gave you the word and spelled it for you.  How on earth and why on earth did you spell it wrong?  Apparently you also weren’t paying attention or thought I was talking about panty hose that I looked up on Google; which for the record I was not.

Thursday, April 12, 2012


     The first time I saw the 80s cover bad The Spazmatics I was in Austin at Cedar Street.  I've seen them too many times to count since then and they never disappoint.  I saw them tonight at Celebrate Uptown in Dallas and had so much fun!  What a good way to spend a Thursday night.  Yes, the weather is still good in Dallas.  Loving it!

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


     The Texts from Hillary made me laugh so hard today.  Check them out for yourselves: The crafted exchanges between her and Romney; her and Congressman Weiner; and her and John Stewart are classic. 
     But the one that really made me laugh was the text from her husband Bill.  It reads:  “Hey Mon,” as in Monica Lewinsky.  Hillary responds: “This is Hillary.”  I share the same name with that infamous intern and only friends and family (loved ones if you will) get to call me Mon.  I bet Bill got to call Ms. Lewinsky Mon and for some reason that had me in stiches.  When that whole scandal blew up, I heard about these support groups people formed because having the same name as that intern was making people depressed. Really?!  Lighten up.  You just have the same name as her.  You weren’t in the oval office with him like she was and then had your whole affair investigated by a specially appointed counsel and then broadcast on national television.  If you needed a support group for being as tangentially involved to that whole mess as having the same name, then I’m at a loss.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012


     I'd just like everyone to know that I went to my first Rangers game of the season tonight and there was no swamp ass to be had (unlike my last time at the ball park).  Praise April weather in Dallas!  I wish it'd last into summer.  But I know that's a pipe dream.

Monday, April 9, 2012


     For some reason this weekend I was telling people how I used to work in the University of Michigan, Mary Markley dormitory cafeteria.  I had several shifts at the cafeteria.  First, the 6am to 10am breakfast shift.  That insanely early shift required setting up the milk and orange juice dispensers, which I often messed up and spilled all over the linoleum, which I then had to mop up.  Then I'd sit at the front of the cafeteria and swipe students' meal cards.
     I most often worked the lunch shift.  I'd stand in the middle of the cafeteria and help my fellow students make their sandwiches.  I'd let them choose their type of bread, meat and cheese and would place each item on their plates with my gloved hands.
     The dinner shift was the worst.  It was busy and I was a runner, which meant I had to replace empty trays of foods that were sitting in pools of scalding hot water in these huge metals tubs.  The stupid dinner shift lead me to several wrist burns, which made it look like I'd been trying to use a razor blade to slit my wrists.  I graduated college in 1998 and the scars of my wrists from those hot, metal trays have finally faded.  The best part (NOT) about all of this work in the cafeteria was that each and every shift required me to wear a hair net.  Just picture it, a curly haired curl in a hair net, talk about afro city.
     One time after my lunch shift I was in such a rush to get to class I forgot to take of my hairnet.  I walked to class and attended class wearing a hair net.  Now that's just plain embarrassing.  I only realized my fashion faux paux as I was walking back to my dorm.  The horror.
     Working in the cafeteria was a work study job and I got paid minimum wage or a little bit more.  Who can remember.  This equated to about $37 to $40 per pay check, which doesn't sound like a lot, but in 1994-95 era Ann Arbor it was.  It was my pizza money, my weekend beer money, my money for snacks at the football or basketball game, my money for the movies, my bus money to go to the mall, and sadly my laundry money.
     My college boyfriend was a junior when I was a freshman.  He had a car.  He'd drive me to the University building where I showed my student id and picked up my paycheck.  He'd wait in the car with his hazards flashing on State Street while I raced to get my check.  Then he'd drive me to the bank so I could cash it.  It was a great system.
     His dad on the other hand sent him cash money wrapped in aluminum foil and mailed via regular US mail in a plain white envelope.  It was the most fun to see how much his dad had sent that week or month as we peeled back the wrinkled foil.  I'd never met anyone who'd send that much cash in the mail, but his dad did and no checks ever went missing.  It must have been that aluminum foil--no one had any idea there were hundred dollar bills wrapped in it.
     Working in the cafeteria wasn't sexy or glamourous, but I did meet nice people.  My sophomore year I was a waitress in the all-girls dorm even though I myself didn't live there.  I had to wear a black and white uniform to serve those girls, but I did it because waitresses got to eat for free and that was a double payoff for me--getting a paycheck and free food.  By my junior year I'd given up food service jobs and worked in the foreign language lab selling Spanish and French lesson tapes to students.  The perks of that job--when it was slow I got to do my homework.  Oh and one year I was a T.A. for a freshman English class.  I'd hold office hours at night and remember falling asleep on the couch waiting for students to show up and ask questions.  They rarely came.  And that's the job I recommend most--to get paid for taking a nap.  Pure genius.

Sunday, April 8, 2012


     You know a really uncrowded place on Easter Sunday?  The pool at my gym.  I was able to swim my laps this morning in peace without the huge, hulking guy swimming butterfly in the lane next to me...phew!  So I spread out all my props on the deck: my fins, my kick board, my water bottle and my pull buoy without feeling guilty.  And then I got to work.  At least the pool's heater was working to day.  Last time the water was ice cold.  I shiver just thinking about it.

Saturday, April 7, 2012


     Happy Kick Off to Weight Loss Week a/k/a Happy Passover!  Passover started last night and despite not going to a seder I did spend time with some Jewish people.  And despite the late night slip up of eating street food--that hot dog always looks good after a couple of drinks--I am well into my Passover observance and well on my way to weight loss.  I always seem to lose some weight during this time.  Probably because my diet is so bread and grain heavy.  Plus, I don't have anyone cooking me delicious Passover food.  Today my lunch was some raw green beans and bowl of matzo ball soup--pre-made from the store.  If that doesn't spell weight loss then I don't know what does.

Friday, April 6, 2012


     Today would’ve been my Dad’s 69th birthday.  Happy Birthday Dad!  I wish he was still here.  If he was still alive, I’m almost certain he would’ve driven to Dallas from Albuquerque last night and stayed until Monday.  He would’ve driven straight through, calling me when he got to the Grapevine Mills Mall outside of Dallas, to tell me he was going to get out of the car to stretch his legs, which in my Dad’s language meant shop.  That guy loved to shop.  He loved to shop for pretty much anything and pretty much any store. 
     He also had a fondness for newspapers.  He read several every day: The New York Times, The Financial Times, USA Today, a local paper—The Albuquerque Journal or the Dallas Morning News—depending where he was; and sometimes The Wall Street Journal.  He’d been known to write letters to the editor of The Financial Times.  He wrote a letter about Maureen Dowd’s book Are Men Necessary?  He praised that book and spared with some other letter-to-the-editor writer who thought Dowd’s book was junk.  
     To my knowledge, Dad never read that book.  He thumbed through it, got some good passages under his belt to wield into his letter, but didn’t read the book cover to cover.  He did however gift that book to me.  So it was my job to read it.  Dad gave me the hardcover version with the clipping of his letter to the editor messily folded between the cover and the book’s creamy first page.  See how I’ll never forget him?  He did stuff like that all the time.

Thursday, April 5, 2012


     Do you do what I do after a late night out at a bar that doesn't have a smoking ban?  (And why do these bars still exist?  I thought you couldn't smoke at restaurant bars anymore?!!)  I spray a ton of Febreeze in my hair so I don't have to smell the smoke trapped in my hair on my pillow all night long.  Hey, it's quicker than taking a shower at 1 or 2 or 3 in the morning.  Don't judge.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012


     Have you ever had Scandinavian hors d'oeuvres? I'm about to find out at an event called Private Evening in Scandinavia at a furniture store.  That's right, people in Dallas throw their parties any place they can, furniture stores included.  At least there'll be beds there in case I get tired.  

Tuesday, April 3, 2012


     I went to a Dallas Stars game tonight and was the only one in my group who was cold.  I brought wool gloves and wore them; but there were girls in skirts and sleeveless tops who felt fine.  I was too embarrassed to put on my wool hat and pashmina, but I had them with me and wish I'd felt confident enough to put them on...  I'll be thawing out for the rest of the night.  Hello heating pad.

Monday, April 2, 2012


     I used to think that Kevin Bacon sang the song Footloose.  Well, tonight I saw the actual singer, Kenny Loggins, sing Footloose, Danger Zone, a song I didn't know he sang form the movie Caddy Shack and a bunch of other songs.  He was really good.  I enjoyed the show, not the valet line so much after the show, but show was great.  Plus, it was a special event benefiting LaunchAbility, a non profit that creates programs and training that help children and adults with cognitive disabilities.

Sunday, April 1, 2012


     I made a big stink about how I wasn't going to wear a swimsuit to a pool party today and how I'd only wear shorts and a tank top.  I complained about how it's only April and how it's too early in the season to get into a swimsuit let alone get in the water.  But I reluctantly wore a swim suit under my dress to the party.  Well Happy April Fool's Day to me--who was the first one in the water at the pool party today?  This girl.  It is currently 86 degrees in Dallas.  How could I not get in the pool?