Stop and Smell the Roses

I realize that it has been a while since my last blog. Trust me this is not by choice. On these chilly autumn days, there is nothing I would rather do than sit in my chair, covered in my ultra-plush blanket, and watch the leaves fall as I sip spicy flavored coffees and write. But alas, a little thing called responsibility always rears its ugly head! Yup, despite my recent conviction to spend more time on my personal artistic endeavors, I still fall prey to the beast that is Work.

I am not complaining, though. I love my work. I thank my lucky stars everyday that I have a career that I enjoy. And I refuse to call it a "job." Since I think of a job as labor you have to do, begrudgingly, everyday in order to make money. I am lucky enough to not currently fall in this category. I work in the field that I adore, one I pursued an education for. I work with wonderful people, and the daily excitement of running a television station never disappoints.

Recently our office has been amped up, as we accomplish some big projects. When it comes to to this, I also am so grateful for the ability to be the decision maker. Ok, I know you think I am just saying that I like to be the boss, because by nature I have a bossy personality. While I am not denying this latter fact, I promise you that my affinity for being a manager is so much more. I love that my ideas, my "big-picture" goals if you will, are the driving force for the future of the station. And seeing them continually coming to fruition is mind blowing. Making such contributions gives me a distinct sense of accomplishment. Creation, in any form, is my high.

So my usual eight hour work days have been slowly trickling into ten and twelve hours. And somehow I find myself working on things at home on the weekends. But in the end it is all worth it. I know that once this busy period culminates, not only will the fruits of my labor make it all worth while, but so will the period of rest waiting for me on the other side.

That's right, I have already planned how I will reward myself! When work calms down it will nicely coincide with my husband's birthday. And what better way to celebrate than to get away, out of the city, for a weekend! We will head North, just Ken and myself, with our beloved dogs, and spend a long weekend at a lake house. I will be able to rest, relax, enjoy the company of my husband, and focus on my recently forsaken interests. I can already tell you what our daily schedule will consist of: Sleeping in, cooking a big breakfast, hiking with our dogs, kayaking, taking some photographs, writing a bit, making a campfire, and enjoying late night conversations with each other. Now this is a twelve hour day I could get used to! Really taking time to just enjoy each other, enjoy nature, enjoy life!

I know there are a lot of you who can relate. For many of us work always seems to dominate. As I grow older, I realize that sometimes one can try so hard to succeed in life, that they never actually live it. Sayings like, "It's all in the details" and "Make time to stop and smell the roses," were coined for a reason you know! Little pearls of truthful wisdom I would say! That is why I would like to remind everyone to take time out and appreciate what is really important to you. Reward yourselves and don't apologize for it! Experience and enjoy the little things in life that matter to you. The things you don't have time for during the hectic work week. Focus on your details people, find your roses. Don't let life pass you by.

Be Kind, Rewind

Tonight I got to hang out with my nephews. My parents were babysitting, so Ken and I took the kids out to dinner to give Ma and Dad a little break. It was nice spending time alone with them. Soaking up all the silly moments of hanging with two eleven year-olds. Eleven is a funny age. They aren't little kids anymore, but they aren't quite adults. Although, lately they are shooting up like redwoods, (seriously ask my sister how much she spends replacing flood pants every other month)! I find it hilarious that one day my little guys, whose diapers I changed and boo-boos I kissed, will tower over me. And with the way they are growing, it's going to be sooner rather than later!

I love hanging out with them whenever I get the chance. The opportunities to do so seem to get fewer and fewer the older they get. Their lives are filled with school, baseball, hockey, and hanging with their friends. They have their own activities and interests now that fill their days. Playing hide and seek, baking cookies, and watching a Disney movie with Auntie just doesn't cut it anymore. No. Now they go to dances and Bruins games with their friends. Hell, Auntie isn't even considered as cool as she used to be! Before, they would take anything I said as gospel. Now my tastes and suggestions are "lame" and "cheesy." Me? Lame? When did that happen? And I almost crashed the car the other day when I heard one of them refer to a girl in his class as "hot." Apparently I am a bit lame, because that statement actually made me tear up.

But despite my shocking realization that they are no longer the chubby-faced cherubs that used to run me in circles, I am enjoying this age. I mean now we are listening to the same music, watching the same movies, and wearing similar clothes! Seeing the little men that they are becoming is fascinating. It makes me realize how fast they are growing up. This notion also made me stop and ponder how terribly long it has been since I was eleven! Let's travel back in time and relive what life was like and who I was at eleven, shall we?

The year was 1991. Ah yes, the beginning of the awkward years! I was in 6th at St. Anthony's School, and obviously the epitome of cool. No, not really. I was a nerd. Big time. I liked school, was a teacher's pet, and never got in trouble with my parents. Seriously, I could count the times I was punished on one hand. Without using my thumb.

I still wasn't sure how to interact with boys. Apparently kicking their asses in basketball at recess and beating them in arm wrestling for snack packs was no longer appropriate. I had yet to learn what cool clothes were, I was too young for make-up, and I was adamantly still rocking those five year old toddler bangs. You know, the blunt ones across the forehead that are never quite straight? So like I said, epitome of cool. Don't believe me? I give you my school picture from that year. Try to contain yourselves....

Enough said. And yes, that's right, I pilfered my brother's sweater (he was 19 at the time and clearly a bigger size). I thought it would totally rock if I matched the background. Nailed it right? Mmm hmm. This picture was so bad, that on the 8x10 my mom ordered, the dark sweater blended right into the dark background. Hence, my ever-so witty father dubbing this picture, for all eternity, as "The Floating Head Picture."

Despite my residence in Geekville, I was quite happy at this age. I had a great big family, a good group of friends, and was completely spoiled rotten. Not in a nasty or bratty way, but in a "I am the baby so I get everything I want" kind of way. Clearly there is a difference! My social life at this point? When I was eleven, afternoons were spent in the backyard with my cousins choreographing routines to Paula Abdul and Bobby Brown. We were good too. Damn good. Weekends were for sleepovers, bike riding, and playing SuperNintendo. School was filled with posterboard projects, tater tots, and kickball. And my biggest worry was what was going to unfold on the next episode of Saved By the Bell. In other words, life was good.

I hope that eighteen years from now my nephews can look back on their time as favorably. Some things about being eleven will always be the same. But in this world of increasing exposures and dwindling boundaries, this time of innocence seems shorter and shorter. I hope for my nephews that, just for a little longer, Santa remains real, board games are still fun, and Auntie is the coolest person they know. And for God's sake....let them still think that GIRLS HAVE COOTIES. And while I would love to rewind my own life every now and then, I understand that time marches on. One day my nephews will be my age, with children and nieces and nephews of their own. And they will understand this feeling of, not necessarily wanting to stop time, but somehow find a way to slow it down a little. Life goes by too fast people. Make sure you are enjoying all the right moments.

The Blah Day Blues

Today I woke up tired. Have you ever had a day like that? When your feet have yet to hit the floor, but you feel like you just ran a marathon? I don't particularly like days that begin like this. They just lead to what feels like an endless stream of tiring events and chores. Like today, for example. Can you believe that I had to get up early, work a full day, clean the house, and cook dinner. Hmmm....I guess these things are pretty standard. But that readers, is my point! While these things are typical on a regular day, today they felt unbearable. Like carry cement blocks across wet sand.

It started early, with something as simple as getting dressed. Part of my day that usually takes me ten minutes turned into a full-on ambivalence-fest! "No I don't want these pants! Where is my long sleeved black shirt? "I can't believe I can't find my favorite jeans." This continued on for twenty-five minutes, culminating in the often-used and ever-popular, "I have NO clothes!"

Once I finally got an outfit together (nothing spectacular, mind you, despite the aforementioned, intensive, soul-searching saga), I was out the door and heading to the car. Of course even that didn't go well. Not once, but TWICE, back up the stairs and into the house to retrieve forgotten items. Tack on the annoyingly long line at Dunkins for a burnt coffee (don't even get me started on Dunkin coffee...), and I am already half an hour late for work. Great start, don't you think?

Work-wise, I didn't have an unusually busy day. A consistent flow of work needed to be done, but nothing out of the ordinary. No staff emergencies to handle, no last minute requests from the superiors, no surprise extra projects. Ironically, my work day was probably the least tiresome part of my day. I got a lot of office work accomplished, had some laughs with my staff, and made some progress on a few long terms projects. All in all, a positive experience. I left feeling like maybe my day would pick up, and I could leave the morning behind.

No luck. Nothing bad happened after work, but nothing exciting did either. It was just....blah. I didn't have any errands to run, or any house projects to focus on. I didn't get to see my husband for long because he was on his way out to football. A fact that I should be used to, since he has coached for forever. I know the drill, but I still got a bit disheartened. You see, I am fortunate enough to love hanging out with my husband. If anyone could turn around my blah day, it would be him. But, his love for the pigskin called, and out the door he went.

I remembered that cooking always makes me feel better, so I thought maybe I could get an early start on prepping dinner. But that only took all of ten minutes, since I made something simple (We would have to eat so late, football remember?). So there I was. Bored with my options on TV, tired of looking at a computer screen, and not motivated enough to do my least favorite thing in the world, laundry. What was there to focus on? Where could I direct my attention? What could pep me up and turn this day around?

Then it happened. As I sat on my couch, I turned my head and saw this...

How could anything seem wrong when you are looking at that face? Right after I snapped this picture, Cooper jumped up, crawled into my lap, and kissed my face. Then we played with Lucy and all their many, many toys. After a while, they were all tuckered out and decided to go back to snuggling in their beds. I went back to my day and started cooking dinner. But something had shifted. My mood had changed. I was content, I was smiling, I was humming for God's sake! And while I still may have been a bit tired, suddenly it didn't seem quite so bad. Nothing makes me smile like my dogs. Man's best friend, that is all too true. Thank you Lucy and Cooper, for loving me unconditionally, always being there for me, and making me smile, even on those blah kind of days :)

Maybe Baby

OK – so I re-read my last blog posts and I realize that I have been sounding awfully negative. I don’t like that – I am really not a negative person. I love my life and I wake up everyday happy. Ok, so I am kind of grouchy when I first wake up, but after a cup of coffee I am all “Carpe Diem!” So I promised myself that tonight I would blog about something positive. And what could be more positive than the topic of little babies?!?! Sweet-smelling, soft-skinned, tiny-toed little infants. Who doesn’t love an adorable baby? Hold on now – all you family members reading this, don’t start lunging for the phone, and mom please don’t start squealing. I’m not preggo – not yet anyway. And for the many, and I mean MANY, people that are always asking us – we are working on it, ok? So no dramatic revelations here tonight – and a quick request that someone slap me if I do become that person that announces their pregnancy online! No, the interesting thing I want to talk about is what I like to call “The Baby Phenomenon.”

“The Baby Phenomenon” appears to me to be this parallel universe that women, and some men, seem to fall into once they reach that point in their life when they realize they are ready to have a child. It is odd. You don’t really see it coming. You are walking along one day, maybe running errands, or maybe going to visit a friend, and then it happens. You see a mother, or a father, and they are holding the cuddliest little bundle of pink or blue, and BAM! It hits you….”I want one of those!”

I know – all my single friends out there are thinking I am crazy. But seriously, it happens. I had never imagined this feeling either, until it happened to me personally. Right up until last year, I only had that feeling of want for stuff like new clothes, pocketbooks, and puppies. And of course, my husband. Doll that he is! As soon as I saw him, I knew I had to have him. But he was already grown and trained (well, sort-of). Totally not the same thing as a baby! It’s not like I had never been around children. I have tons of nieces and nephews in my life that I love to death. But to be honest, I was always able to get my fill from one or two days of visiting. “Yea we had a great time! Uh huh, now back to Mom and Dad!”

But I am telling you people, out of nowhere, wham! The Baby Phenomenon. I’ve slipped through the matrix, and here I am, a full-fledged member of Clock Tickers Anonymous. It scared me how suddenly it actually happened. I mean, people always say, “When you are ready, it will just hit you.” I thought that was just an expression! It literally felt like my uterus did a back flip. And no one told me that the feeling grows stronger as you go along! What the…? I was totally unprepared for this!

Some people may say, “Alyson, what you are referring to, everyone has always called Baby Fever.” But I must disagree here, because “The Baby Phenomenon” is so much more than just wanting a baby. It is more like an all-consuming mindset/state of being. For example, now EVERYWHERE I look there are new babies or pregnant women. Seriously, it is like when you really want a specific model car, and then that is all you see on the road. I swear I never saw this many new babies and pregnancies at once before! At first I asked myself, is there a boom going on because of the recession or something? Nope, I think they were always there, but I never saw them before because I wasn’t in this hormonal, maternal, alternate universe. But I am now. I wonder if it's a side affect of those prenatal pills? Like, a way to make you really commit to having a baby? Giving you Baby Brain, so that is all you can see, hear, or think about.

Well no matter how I got to this stage, I must say I do find it exciting. Lately, nothing makes me happier than imagining a little person that is part me and part Ken (dear God, if you could give the baby Ken's eyes I would really appreciate it!). So now I guess all we do is wait and see. Just struggle through The Baby Phenomenon stage and hope for the….wait…I totally just realized the next stage will involve me gaining weight, getting moody, and experiencing unbearable pain! Is there a way to fast forward right to that last stage? You know where we just get to enjoy the baby? Yeah, yeah, I know, I know….Hmmm…maybe I will enjoy The Baby Phenomenon a little longer, you know, before it gets too real!

Hold the onions...

Today was a day filled with doing "adult" things. I hate days like this. Ken and I got up, cleaned the house, stripped the bed, did the laundry, and then had to go food shopping. It was one of those, "be responsible and take care of things" kind of Saturdays. Honestly, I prefer the "I'm still hungover so I am going to watch movies on OnDemand all day whilst easting some expensive take-out" kind of Saturdays. To me, the weekend should be filled with pleasurable things like this, instead of more work. But it had to be done. Especially the food shopping. Since all that was left in our fridge was chicken broth, condiments, and onions. Speaking of this, why are there always onions left? I feel like I bought one bag, months ago. Why are there so many onions? They are like never-ending. Does anyone else notice this about their onions? Do they multiply or something? Is it because I leave them in that bag? Are they having little onion babies in my crisper? Sorry. Enough about the onions, and back to the topic at hand: food shopping.

I am going to make an honest confession here. I absolutely, unequivocally, HATE food shopping. Now, I know that hate is a strong word, but seriously, if I never had to food shop again (but somehow the food still magically appeared in my cabinets), I would sacrifice my left arm. Therefore I feel that the word hate is totally appropriate.

I understand that some of you may think that I am being overly dramatic here. "Come on, food shopping may be an tedious chore, but it is a necessity," you say. And "it is not like you have to do it everyday!" And "Don't you claim you love to cook?" Yes, you are correct in all of these criticisms. However, I assure you, it is not the chore part of food shopping I dislike so much. I mean, I do lots of chore-like activities on a daily basis and they don't raise my ire to such a level. And I do love cooking, and eating, all the good things we get. Ironically, nothing makes me happier that walking in the kitchen when I am hungry, seeing the shelves stocked, and realizing I have unlimited delicious options before me. No, it is not any of these parts of food shopping that I detest. The part of food shopping that I absolutely abhor is trying to navigate that damn cart through the aisles packed with people.

Because I am not talking about skirting around one or two carts, or the old couple arguing over what size box of saltines to buy. I am talking about full-on, at-capacity, bumper-car kind of crowded. Overtired mothers pacing up and down looking for nothing in particular. Screaming, runny-nosed little kids throwing things in carts and hitting each other with rolls of toilet paper. Acne-stricken stock boys, who are more interested in flirting with their Britney Spears wanna-be co-workers, than helping you find your item. It's pure horror people. Wes Craven kind of stuff.

And who designs these layouts? Walking through those aisles you feel like cattle marching to the slaughter. Your wedged in like sardines, annoyed, and increasingly miserable. By the time you pack in all your groceries, stand in line at the Deli for 20 minutes (which poses the question why does that take SO long?), and run back three times for the things you forgot, you finally arrive at the registers. Or what I like to call the second layer of Dante's Inferno. I kid you not, its like hell trying to score a decent paced moving line. "Wait! Number 12 has one less cart at it! Quick put down the article on Jon & Kate and shift over there!"

The agony doesn't end until you finally squeeze through the one (really one?) automatic exit, and finally reach the promised land, AKA, the parking lot. Ah! Fresh air and room to spread out. As long as you manage to cross the lot without getting run over by the idiot in the SUV, life is good again. And despite the fact that you still have to carry all those bags up the stairs and into the house, nothing seems quite as bad as the trail of tears you just endured. So you unload the car, unpack the bundles, start putting the food away. You fill the freezer, put the fruit in its bowl, and line the fridge shelves with various flavors of yogurt. You made it through, nothing can bring you down now. Until you open the crisper and ask yourself "Wait...why did I buy more onions? Damn it!"

Seriously?

You know what I don't understand? I don't understand how people who have lived their entire lives in New England STILL get upset about the weather this time of year. Seriously, why are these people complaining that it is cold in mid-October? It's fall... or autumn...whichever you prefer to call it. One thing I am sure of...it's NOT summer. Summer is over people. Deal with it. The pools are closed, the beaches are empty. Put away the swimsuits and get out the fleece. It is inevitable. It happens every year. So where is that element of surprise that I obviously seem to be missing?

I think the weather is pretty typical. I mean, I know this particular weekend has dipped a bit lower than usual temperatures, but aside from this one weather pattern, everything else seems to be right on track. It is supposed to be clear, crisp, and cold, you know. That is what fall is! It's raking leaves, drinking hot apple cider, and sitting by a crackling fireplace while you watch football. It's looking through the entire damn pumpkin patch for that perfect one, even though your fingers feel like they might fall off. It's starting up the oven on a Saturday morning and baking something just to warm the house and fill it with a sweet aroma. It's hiding those extra five pounds (maybe a result of those aforementioned baked goods?) under hooded sweatshirts or bulky sweaters. I especially enjoy this part. Fall is a woman's friend in this department, trust me. Anyway, you get the point. And aren't these usually the reasons why people come to New England?

So in conclusion, it's New England and it's fall people! Stop avoiding taking out the air conditioners, stop whining about tropical islands, stop clinging to your flips-flips, and for God's sake, stop trying to fool people by rocking that fake-bake you got from the tanning bed. (No seriously, it looks weird when you are still THAT tanned in October)

And if there are those of you who read this, and still keep pining for beach weather four weeks into the fall, you really should think about relocating. You should relocate to a place that is warm all the time, since you seem to equate that with happiness to a ridiculous degree. And more importantly, you should relocate so that I don't have to listen to you complain every five seconds about having to turn the heat on. To those of you, I bid you adieu. Don't let the Snuggie hit you in the ass on the way out :)

In the beginning...

Hello world! Hmm, my first blog post. Where do I begin? I guess the beginning would have to be about how I got the notion of even starting a blog. So that will be the subject of my first post. Here goes.

It all began with Facebook. I joined Facebook for the same reason we all do - to peer into other people's lives by reading their posts and looking at their pictures. I mean let's be honest. Everyone says it's to "stay in touch" or "socialize," but really what people want to do is log on and secretly butt into other people's business. It's weirdly voyeuristic, but totally addicting. Despite the fact that it's completely dehumanizing to only interact or socialize with your 400+ "friends" over a machine, I admit it, I like Facebook.

Actually, it turns out the part I like most about Facebook is the status bar. There is something so enjoyable about writing a quick thought or opinion in that little square box, and then committing to it by hitting "post," putting it out there for anyone to see. I have always been a vocal person (just ask anyone, I am not exactly short on words), so I guess it makes sense that I like to communicate. But the status bar is more than communication, it's an outlet for my thoughts, my jokes, my rants. It's a total release, knowing that someone, anyone, can read what is going through my head at that moment. It's almost powerful.

Today I noticed that lately my love for the status bar has increased. It has increased to the point where I have ruined it. My short little quips have morphed into long, run-on descriptions and/or stories. OK, even I know this is obnoxious. No one wants to have to click "read more" to see where the hell I am going with my never-ending status! My father still says to this day that I suffer from Redundant Writer Syndrome. My term papers were always just that much too long, you know? Brevity is not my strong suit. I have accepted it.

So, where does the overly loquacious writer survive? A blog of course! Someplace where random thoughts and writing about nothing in particular is encouraged. So here I am, blogging about me, my thoughts, my opinions, and my experiences. Welcome to A Day in the Life of Alyson. I hope you get some sort of enjoyment from it.....because I certainly do.