A break in your regularly scheduled programming

Clearly I'm several days behind. (Ack! Work is insane.) I'ma punch out the days I missed this weekend, but I wanted to fill you in on my three favorite parts of today.

#1 - Colleen and I standing in the gas station lot after work, having a fountain drink and playing scratch lotto. (It's easy not to get addicted when you never win.)

#2 - Feeling doubly white trash eating ice cream direct from the carton while watching RW/RR Challenge and enjoying every last minute.

#3 - Buying a plane ticket for Thanksgiving Adventure 2010. Because seeing the Panama Canal was the silent item on my Bucket List.

Annnnnd, a little birdie told me via phone that she hates the 30-day Challenge. Well missy; soon enough this whole crazy factor will be over and you'll never have to hear about me loving my parents again.

the $7.49 that changed my life

A CURE HAS BEEN FOUND! Beep beep boop bop bop boop hummm. A miracle! Wonder of wonders. Miracle! Miracle! A fifteen year mystery and quest for a solution found. HUzzah! Hooray! I have been healed!

Yes. I'm often prone to hyperbole. And prone means always. (See?) But I'm serious this time. A true cure. I have a whole new outlook on life, and it starts from the ground up.

Everyone has points on their body that don't operate on the highest level of performance. For me (and my mom, aunt, sisters, cousins, basically anyone with Wood blood in them), my heels are a point of major battle. Epic battle. Epic battle written about in every kind of epic war literature throughout the history of time. Epically tragic. To put it mildly, they crack. More or less an open sore from April to October with periods of brief respite in the winter. BUT IT'S ALL BEEN CHANGED.

Every cream, lotion, and dermatologist has previously been tested. Tried, tested, and failed. To put it mildly, I've given up the last few years. Until yesterday. One simple tip from a gal at the salon, one trip to the CVS, one lil $7.49 purchase and I'm a NEW WOMAN.

I recognize that 95.8% of my readers are women (men! identify yourselves or count yourself among the women) and wouldn't be too grossed out by my discovery, but I still have a level of modesty and decorum. No gruesome details here (find me another way. WINK.).

It's ridiculous how beside myself I am. BUT I'M JUST SO HAPPY. Come walk a mile in my shoes. It doesn't hurt any more.

Something to write home about

Dear Mom,

Today I *met my match. We're totally made for each other!

*or just took a photo of him on the street.

When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way

West Side Story has always been my favorite musical. When I heard they were reviving the musical on Broadway, my heart didn't merely beat faster, I think it actually started snapping.

I've been in New York City this weekend to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Melissa in the form of a bridal shower brunch (and to visit some of my other favorite people of course). She and I have been talking about trying to win tickets to see WWS (she loves it as much as I do) for months now. Long story short, Melissa won the lottery. This was a big deal, because in its second week of previews (the show is still in soft rehersals, it doesn't officially open until the end of March) the lottery pool was already almost as large as Wickeds. (Joe, Jamar and I tried to win on Friday night but didn't) For the girl who says she never wins anything, she really won the big prize. She and I were literally floating on air during dinner.

When you win lottery tickets, you pay $26.50 to sit in the front row with somewhat obstructed view (in this case, we couldn't see the dancers feet too much). NO BIG DEAL. Being so close to the 30 person orchestra, and seeing all the actors' faces and true sweat... the show whas phen.om.enal. Words will not do it justice, but I'll try.

Things I love love loved about this West Side Story revival (in no particular order):

• The dancing was the original choreography from the original show recreated and restaged. High kicks, jumps and all. Seeing it from the front row was surreal; and completely all encompassing.
• Being so close to the stage allowed us to keep a close eye on the conductor and how good he was at his job--especially keeping the music and snaps on count.
• During the large group dances (the Mambo at the gym, the opening scene, "Cool") there was so much to see and movement from all corners that it was overwhelming to watch and decide where to focus.
  
• The color palattes for the Jets and Sharks were unbelievable. The Jets wore green, mellow orange and khacki while the Sharks wore purple and black. The costumes blew my mind, because the styles were all so different, but the colors clearly identified what gang each character belonged to.
• They used actual Latins for the Sharks. The Sharks spoke and sang in Spanish. While I missed hearing the words to some classic songs ("I Feel Pretty"), hearing them in Spanish was this amazing combination of old and new.
• The Anita in this show should win a Tony hands down. Any.time. she was on the stage I literally could not take my eyes off of her. She absolutely sold her part -- more so than any character I have ever seen on stage (Elphaba in Wicked included).
• Have I mentioned how amazing the dancing was?
• Tony was a hunk. Riff too. Bernardo tambien. In fact, all the male characters on this show were strong.
  
• Singing check. Dancing check. Acting? Superb. You felt the honest emotion; the show was incredibly raw. The tension was there from start to finish. I know the ins and outs of the story but was still shocked and surprised by the plot. It's easy to get carried away when a show is just that good.
  

Alright, alright, I'll stop raving now. Just know this--the show was so beautiful at times that it was almost too much to take in. I didn't cry, but felt moved to tears on several occasions. There's a possibility this might be the best Broadway show I've ever seen. I'm still trying to mull it over in my head, but this is a must see in NYC if you're a fan of the big singing and dancing musicals. I promise you won't be sorry. Then, cross your fingers and say your prayers you don't get an Anita understudy.

No one loves December as much as I do

And now, a break from your regularly scheduled cruise recaps....

If I don't blog about the first week in December this very second, I'll never do it at all. I love December. Every. single. thing. about. it. It also helps that I have a holiday birthday -- I love that too. What else to love this December? The parents, Kendall, and Mallory came to visit. Hel-LO fun.

We did what we do best on vacation -- shop and eat. And then I took them to do what I love best to do. The girls thugged it up Celtics-style. My Dad was true to his homeland and rooted for the Blazers. Don't worry, they still lost.

Just like that, the family was gone, and it's the 8th day of December. And all rejoiced with pumpkin pie, cheeseball, and the glory of seeing a sequined, argyle sweatshirt. (Lemme know if you want to borrow.) The white elephant gift exchange was a success; and a rousing rendition of "All I Want for Christmas" performed. Many, many thanks to all the emails, calls, texts, e-cards, f-book shout-outs, twitters, and in-person visits.

Now come over for some pie and cheeseball, there's more left than Linda or I could possibly consume.

PS -- get used to seeing these photo spreads. Picasa upgraded their collage spread, and photos just got oh so much easier to display. Try one, you'll get hooked.

Spontaneous

Last Saturday I woke up and felt like an adventure. Weather across New England broke unseasonably warm and I knew I had to get out and about. The still unpacked (from a 9/1 move) pins could hold another week, so Katie and I jumped in the car and headed north to Maine.

Why on earth there's a Costa Vida in Portland, Maine is beyond me. Last year we made the same trek to partake of the Western "Mexican" goodness. I'm a Costa Vida evangelist--in fact, I get random texts about once a month from friends all over the place telling me they're at a Costa and thinking about me. (Like I always say, it's nice to be predictable.)









The drive was gorgeous as the leaves were at their peak. Pictures wouldn't do the festival of fall justice--which is good, because there are not photos to be had. Also in Maine are outlet malls. Quite a few. And of course we maybe spent the rest of the afternoon in beautiful Freeport, ME with 65 degree weather; a picturesque town, a fabulous companion, and hours of doing whatever we felt like. +1 for being single. +1 for having a good solid job. +1 for living in the Eastern time zone.

Can't come soon enough!

1. My flight e-ticket finally arrived for the Q4 Euro Adventure. Cities I've only seen on a map--Barcelona, Zurich, Paris now have confirmation codes and official flight numbers. Only two full months stand between me and the greatest self-propelled vacation ever. (Rule #1 for trip planning: If you really want to go, you have to be willing to make it happen. Sounds simplistic, but it's true.) November 22nd can't come soon enough.

2. I set my mail to begin forwarding to my new apartment the end of the month. I also requested the gas and electricity be shut off. (Rule #1 for moving: Preparation will keep you from anxiety.) September 1st can't come soon enough.

3. Joe and Jamar coming this weekend. Friday can't come soon enough.

4. Per tradition, my parents are confirmed to come help me customize the new place. September 21st can't come soon enough.

5. My sister-cousin Erica is going to have a baby today! I'm so excited to see if they're having a boy or a girl. I voted "boy" in their online pool, but my heart says girl. Girls lead boys 12-2 in the Wms family. That baby can't come soon enough!

Sweet Child of Mine

I keep thinking I've got Boston figured out--which is laughable, I know. Take our Friday night activity for example. Raise your hand if you went on a Guns 'n Roses tribute band Harbor Cruise/Booze Cruise.

We ushered in Linda's birthday with a band appropriately titled "Appetite for Destruction." They knew how to rock. And the people on the cruise knew how to drink, I'll tell you what. Come the end of the cruise, we were definitely the only people standing on good legs--and I'm not just talking about the rocking of the boat.

Trust me, it was even more fun than it looks.

Privacy Please

And in today's installment of "Dreams Really Do Come True", Nat discovers she will no longer have to share one bathroom with three other females. For the first time in her life (adult or otherwise), a full bathroom will be at her full disposal. Complete privacy restored.

Rental app approved today. Moving the end of next month. Visitors encouraged.

Today has been a great day... Part II

... because the NASDAQ is referring people to my blog.

Today has been a great day because...

... this is my second straight day working from home meaning I'm still in last night's pajamas.
... I just finished eating a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
... a brown sugar pop tart pretty much rocked my world.
... the pop-tart wasn't the most white trash thing I ate; that goes to the meat-flavored rolls that had been marinating with my left over Texas Roadhouse steak.
... stupid Kherington was in the bottom three.
... it's been cold Coke Zero all day long.
... I didn't use terribly expensive gas output any carbon monox/dioxide by driving to work.
... the lilies I bought at Costco the other night are in perfect eyeline from my bed and are gorgezzzz.
... MY SISTER ALAINA AND I BOOKED A CRUISE ON THE MEDITERRANEAN (SPAIN, FRANCE, AND ITALY) AT THANKSGIVING. The best part? My grandparents are going to join us.

Like I said, a great day.

Work hard, play hard.

Last night, relaxing on my bed, air conditioner set to Arctic temperature, I fell in love with a show on the ABC Family Channel. My DVR caught a marathon of the show Greek, and I spent a fabulous evening doing what I do best.

On my first bowl of Fruity Pebbles I realized this is one of the things I love the most about being me.

On my second bowl of Fruity Pebbles I realized that the perple who love me best also love this part about me. I love that.

On my third bowl of Fruity Pebbles, my stomach felt, looked, and smelt like a carnival. I vowed not to eat them anytime again soon.

Highly professional successful project manager by day, thirteen-year-old girl by night.

I don't even remember what home is.

So today, I'm wearing 95 percent the same outfit as yesterday. Same pants, same shoes, same purse, same undershirt, same wet knob of hair.

I'm riding a hangover of a date at the gym, 3.5 miles on the treadmill, another 3 walking, around the south end, a relax in the sauna, venezuelan cuisine, peanut butter cookie sandwich with chocolate frosting center, the trashiest episode of GG yet, some hilarious commentary and quite a bit of giggling, some Top Model action, and it's too late to take the T home.

So I fulfilled my childhood wish of having a midweek sleepover with friends. B was kind enough to loan me a new sweater, but I'm basically rockin' in two day old clothes.

Today is the new yesterday.

PS. Happy birthday Julie! 25 is so OLD. Well, until I join you in exactly a month. Then 25 is just hip.

PPS. Just fulfilled Kendall/Rachel's life goal: I got us tickets to the Tyra Banks show next week in NYC. I think I know just where to go to get some chic urban wear.