2012: A Retrospective

I woke up bright & early this morning thanks to an 8am wake up call from the parking lot snow plow driver. I trudged through the snow (maybe 6-8") to The Grey Lady and brushed her off. After accidentally bringing quite a bit of snow into the car with me, I drove to fill up the gas tank and ventured on to Target for my annual late-December purchase.

That's right folks, the 2013 weekly planner and hanging calendar have been purchased...and you know what that means...a look back at 2012!

I've witnessed seven beautiful and intelligent young ladies change their last names while wearing a white dress. I've said farewell to friends who have changed their job titles and, as a result, some have also changed their mailing addresses. I've nursed bruises, pulled muscles and sore feet from dancing...like no one was watching, of course.

My little red suitcase has rolled through Providence, Tampa, Phoenix, San Diego, Hartford, Baltimore, St. Louis and Chicago airports; Providence, Philadelphia, South Norwalk and New York train stations; aboard a ferry to and from Nantucket; and through too many city streets and driveways to mention.

I've indulged in pizza with Tristen; guacamole with Jess and Tara; tea sandwiches and wedding cupcakes with the "Lovely Ladies"; pudding shots with the pub crawlers; Fenway fare with Dad, Tommy & the girls; life-changing reubens with Kate; San Diego fish tacos with Jeff, Lisa & Kate; and plates upon plates of chocolatey goodness in celebration of Denise.

I've toasted to good food, good friends and good news. I've walked the cliffs in Newport, climbed through a metal sculpture playground in St. Louis, gone completely overboard in wedding photo booths; and, even, hit a stranger in the face with a bouquet of flowers. I've broken up with my expensive trainer and started a strong relationship with my amazing boyfriend.

I've screamed for encores from Dave Matthews Band, Bob's Day Off and King Friday. I've met some great new family-to-be and friends; and have strengthened relationships that I've had for years. I used my very own RIPTA bus pass and was involved in my very first (and hopefully my last) hit-and-run.

I've been atop the St. Louis Arch, splashed in the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans and stood in LOVE park with the man I love. I've achieved my goals in the office and have taken on additional responsibility, looking for advancement within the company.

All in all, it's been a great year. No doubt, 2013 will be even better.

To everyone who has made me laugh so hard I have cried, thank you. To everyone who has dealt with me and my antics, thank you. To everyone who has made my day just a little bit better, thank you. To everyone who has helped me through a tough stretch, thank you. I truly appreciate it and I hope to return the favor one day!

Happy New Year!

It Was Bound To Happen

It was only a matter of time before I grew up.
It wasn't until earlier this week while talking with a high school friend (Hi, Kate!) that it hit me that I'm an adult...correction: we're adults. I'm 32 and, although I've put it off as long as I could, it's here...adulthood.
With Thanksgiving just one sleep away, this new truth is a reality. A welcomed reality.
Worldwide, Thanksgiving is known for celebrating family, friends, employment, good health, turkey, gravy, stuffing, yadda yadda yadda...but my Thanksgivings have always embodied so much more.
For the past eight years, I have rushed out of work in Providence on Wednesday afternoon to sit in Mass Pike traffic from Worcester to Springfield, adding at least 45 extra minutes onto my already-annoying commute to Mom's house in Western Mass. Once there, I typically inhaled dinner (and shrimp cocktail if I was lucky) and threw a load of laundry in...because there are no laundry facilities in the Ocean State. That's the excuse I'm going to go with.
I would hit the town with the high school friends that I have had the good fortune of remaining close with all of these years. We, inevitably, would run into people we knew in past lives and hold those awkward conversations that go a little something like, "So...what have you been doing since 1998?" or "Remember Mrs. (fill in the blank with a high school teacher or coach)?"
Although our rowdy behavior has subsided quite a bit in recent years, Thanksgiving has always been a good time to celebrate. Hell, in high school I'd force my immediate family out of our holiday dinner plans so I could go to an unchaperoned formal at a local Polynesian restaurant. We'd get all dolled up, put on our wrist corsages, take ridiculous amounts of pictures and then hop into a limo. Off to debauchery we go!
More recently, my Thanksgiving Day would start with a hearty breakfast of banana bread and Haviland's Chocolate Covered Thin Mints. I'd peruse the massive pile of Black Friday sale flyers in the newspaper - a newspaper which is typically less than half of the size of the Thanksgiving issue - while watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on television. I'd laugh about the horrible lip synching of the performers and smile at the sight of Snoopy or Kermit flying high above New York City.
Occasionally, I'd head out to cheer on the Panthers on the gridiron while sipping a hot chocolate and yelling out the "Keystone" cheer in unison with the student body. (Do they still do this cheer?)
Most high school reunions seem to take place on this holiday weekend because, well, everybody's "home". Well, this year I will not be dancing at the Hu Ke Lau. I will not be throwing back drinks and living it up at Coconuts. I will not trash talk the Westfield Bombers while cheering on the good guys of Cat High.
I've made the choice to stay local and share my Thanksgiving with someone very special to me and his amazing family. They have very graciously opened their home and their hearts to me and I am very grateful to be welcomed with open arms...as long as I bring the green bean casserole.
Regardless of your Thanksgiving Day plans, I hope you are surrounded by people you care about and flooded with those "Happy Turkey Day" texts...and, if that's not an option, I hope you have plenty of pumpkin pie. Gobble gobble!

Jessica Simpson Moments

I know it's hard to believe but I have been known to have "Jessica Simpson moments".
For those of you not into pop culture, Jessica Simpson is a blond-haired, recording artist, actress, fashion designer and reality personality. She came onto the music scene in the late nineties and was everywhere you looked in 2003. Unfortunately, her fame has steadily declined since.
In 2003, she and then-husband Nick Lachey were featured in MTV's reality show Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica. It was at that point that I became quite fond of her. She became real. It was exposed that she was a real girl that had real issues and said really dumb things.
One of my favorites was when she questioned whether a can of  "Chicken of the Sea" contained chicken or fish. The scene goes a little like this...
Jessica: "Is this chicken what I have or is this fish? I know it's tuna but it says 'Chicken...by the Sea'. Is that stupid?"
Nick: (thinking "I can't believe I married this idiot.")
The poor girl took such a social beating for this one simple misunderstanding. Saturday Night Live and MAD TV both did parodies of the episode and you know you've made a boo boo when that happens.
I made a similar slip the other night while watching the Detroit Tigers v. New York Yankees game. The game was being played in Detroit and in the outfield there was a sign for University of Toledo. Now, I know that Toledo is in Ohio. I'm not sure how I know that but at least I know that much.
The next sentence that came out of my mouth was Simpson-esque. The scene goes a little like this...
Trish: "Is Detroit in Ohio?"
Mike: (thinking "I can't believe I'm dating this idiot.")
I knew it sounded ridiculous the second it came out of my mouth but there was no going back. Mike denied that the city of Detroit was located in the state of Ohio. He reminded me that Detroit was, in fact, located in Michigan. This fact floored me because not only was Michigan not my first choice, it wasn't even my second choice. I was convinced it was in Ohio...or Illinois.

All I have to say is that I'm thankful that no MTV cameras were following me watching my every move. Had they been present, NBC would've caught wind that I was a complete idiot and Aidy Bryant (with help from Bobby Moynihan) would've made the country laugh at my expense.

Back To The Future

I'm apparently stuck in the past. Housed in my old school entertainment stand, I have a multitude of classic movies - Grease, American Beauty and Annie, just to name a few. Unfortunately, quite a few of them are on VHS tapes. I have a VCR so watching these hits isn't an issue but a recent episode reminded me that, perhaps, my movie-watching method could use some updates.
I recently carted two boxes of VHS tapes around in the backseat of my car after Mike's sister's tag sale. She had asked if we would mind dropping these tapes off at the local library as a donation. I happily agreed as Mike rolled his eyes and made a few jokes about it being 2012 and the fact that we might as well be donating eight tracks.
Once arriving at the library, we illegally parked out front, hazard lights and all, and schlepped in the two heavy boxes of tapes. Approximately 30 seconds later, we were shown the door and advised that another business across town might take them but that VHS tapes were so outdated that they had moved on to renting DVDs.
I completely understand this but I find it very hard to believe that no one watches anything on VHS tapes anymore. I mean, what about nursing homes or the older generation that just can't figure out the new technology? Hell, my own mother can barely figure out the television remote.
I felt too guilty to throw them away so I drove to one of those donation boxes on the side of the road. The bin was labeled "Books - CDs - DVDs" but I didn't care. I threw the 40+ movies in the bins and made my way.
I donated the tapes. If they decided to toss them in the trash after going through them, laughing all the way, that will be hanging over their heads for years to come.

You're Getting Very Sleepy

What is it about reading that makes me so sleepy?
It doesn't matter whether it's first thing in the morning, in the middle of the afternoon or just before bed. I can be on the beach with sand in between my toes or cuddled up on the couch under a blanket with a creamy, rich hot chocolate by my side. I can be snacking on complimentary honey roasted peanuts while thousands of feet in the air or with my feet firmly planted on the ground. Without a doubt, by page 100, I'm using my finger as a bookmark and I'm a goner.
I can honestly say that I don't know if I've ever read more than three chapters of any book in one sitting that wasn't interrupted by a ten-minute power nap...and I majored in English in college!
It doesn't reflect on the content or the writing style of the author. I could be reading anything and I'd have the same reaction.
Frecklejuice - It's naptime. King Lear - Adios, consciousness. The Natural - I'm off to LaLaLand.
Perhaps it's because reading relaxes me so much it just "zonks" me out...or because it tires out my eyes and they need some quick relief...or perhaps it's the way I'm sitting when I read. Now that I think of it, I almost always read reclined. Maybe my body is confused and thinks it's time for a little snooze.
Regardless, thank you, Warwick Public Library, for allowing me, yet again, to renew my recent read because I can't seem to finish it within the time frame allowed.

Make It Meaningful

As a budding blogger and photographer, I wholeheartedly appreciate the arts. The one form of artistic expression that I don't quite understand, however, is graffiti.
I guess I just don't understand why people risk their lives crossing highway ramps or hanging from bridges to write words that no one can even understand...AND I've noticed that many times the same word/message is written several times in the same area. Really? I got the point the first time. You didn't need to write it on every concrete slab down Rte. 95.
I've only been to Philadelphia, PA once but the lack of typical graffiti was a breath of fresh air. Instead of, well, whatever that is above, they have gorgeous murals on the sides of buildings, columns and overpasses.
After returning from the City of Brotherly Love, I did some research.

According to the Philadelphia The Mural Arts Program website, "the program began in 1984 as a component of the Philadelphia Anti-Graffiti Network, an effort spearheaded by then Mayor Wilson Goode to eradicate the graffiti crisis plaguing the city. The Anti-Graffiti Network hired muralist Jane Golden to reach out to graffiti writers and to redirect their energies from destructive graffiti writing to constructive mural painting."
WHY ISN'T THIS DONE IN EVERY CITY?
Next time you see a ridiculous, nonsensical "tag" (as the kids say nowadays) on your way through town, think of how much better your city would look with these true pieces of art.
Who wouldn't love to discover a mural of a sea turtle on the way to the beach? Or a painting of an orchestra with musical notes coming to life on their way to the Veterans Memorial Auditorium? Or a picture of Del's frozen lemonade hand-in-hand with an Iggy's doughboy while sitting in traffic on 195 East?
The arts should make you think, spark a conversation and encourage a smile. The arts should not confuse the heck out of you and require a team of men in neon yellow shirts to paint over you during rush hour.

USA - USA - USA (Everybody now!)

In the early 1990s, I was a young girl with crooked teeth. I was also an Olympic champion in training.

You may not have heard about my incredible gymnastic abilities because girls like Kim Zmeskal, Shannon Miller and Kerri Strug stole the sports news spotlight but I was a part of it all...in my own mind. I mean, I did take a year or two of gymnastics at Louise Noel's School of Dance!

My training facility was located in West Springfield, MA...almost in my backyard. Okay, fine. It was my backyard.

Around the in-ground pool, my parents had installed wooden beams to section off the patio, contain the landscape, and enhance the overall atmosphere of our seasonal living room. Being a creative youngster, I doubled these beams as Olympic balance beams and even downed trees. (Shout out to all Troop Beverly Hills fans!)

I'd throw on my bathing suit, which was as good as any leotard, and leap, twist and dismount with my hands in the air and everything. I'd also get slivers in my feet and fall into the fence. Perhaps it's a good thing that my career was short lived.

From experience, I know how much blood, sweat and tears goes into being an Olympian. Now that I've retired from the sport, the least I can do is watch the current athletes compete and, hopefully, make history.

I guess I'll be glued to NBC and NBC affiliates for the next few weeks. "USA - USA - USA..."

Headed In The Right Direction

My father has always been there for me to help guide me through life.
He helped me onto the school bus the first day of Kindergarten and followed the bus to school so he was there when I arrived. He was great for helping me with math homework during my stint in elementary school. He taught me how to drive a stick-shift in a Downtown Springfield parking lot. He has always given me great advice about choosing a college, dealing with a car accident and purchasing a home. He is great for developing budget spreadsheets so I don't overdraw my bank account...again.
But this time...he's really outdone himself. He has purchased me a Garmin GPS.
For those of you who don't know, I've been teased and mocked for years for being Ms. Mapquest. I've been told that with the technology these days, there is no reason to have print-out Mapquest directions on the passenger seat.
I wouldn't say I've been resistant to this new technology but I typically go to and from the same places. If I don't know how to get there by now, I have bigger issues to deal with.
I will admit that there have been a handful of times where I've, simply, had a mental block and have just driven in the wrong direction to get some place.
There was this one time in college where I was driving from West Springfield, MA to Newport, RI and I looked at the Mapquest directions and quickly skimmed down....90 East...blah blah blah...146 South....yeh yeh yeh...95 South... I instinctively drove on the Mass Pike to 95 South, adding approximately two years onto the trip. Not smart!
Another time, also in college, I drove from Framingham, MA to Marblehead, MA by going on 290 through Worcester. Don't ask...crazy college days?
Well, my friends, never again. Thanks, Dad, for always pointing me in the right direction.

Not One Drop

I've said for years that going to Fenway Park is like a religious experience for me. I'd venture to say that the walls of Fenway contain more faith than St. Thomas the Apostle Church. When I walk through the gates of Fenway, a special feeling comes over me that I can't quite describe.
Some say that God won't give you more than He knows you can handle. Although you might think that you can't take any more of Bobby Valentine...or Matt Albers...or Nick Punto, God knows your limits and He takes special care of Red Sox fans. I mean, haven't we been through enough?
He certainly took special care of me & some special people a few weeks ago.
Uncle Tom, Jill, Sarah, Dad & I set aside a Friday in early June for Dad-Daughter Day in Beantown. The Florida contingent was in town and we decided to spend the day visiting some of the city's most valued institutions and houses of worship...Harvard, the "Gah-den" and, of course, Fenway.
The weather forecast had looked decent in the days leading up to our adventure but as days were checked off the calendar, it started to look...well, not so great. In fact, I brought an umbrella and a fleece jacket.
We took a driving tour of Harvard so Jill could recruit a boyfriend (unsuccessfully) and then we headed, by way of The Harp for a few beers, to the TD Garden, home of the Boston Celtics. As we sat in The Harp, I recounted some stories of dancing to Jessie's Girl while wearing pink corduroys and stealing a lollipop from the DJ booth on "that very dance floor" as we watched the rain start to fall.
We paid our tab and as we walked towards the exit, I faintly heard a choir of angels' song and the rain instantly stopped. We crossed the street safely and made our way from the dark into the sunshine that was the Garden.
From there, we got into the car and headed towards the light...of the infamous Citgo sign. We were Lansdowne bound.
We walked from Dad's super secret parking spot to...where else?...the Cask & Flagon for an early dinner. Without a wait, we were seated at a table away from the crowd but near the excitement. As we settled in, we watched the rain pour down upon the Green Monster. Because of the impending storm, fans were escorted out of their seats on the wall and ushered to safety. A wise man once told me that "it never rains that hard for that long". Words to live by.
He was right.
Just as we were getting ready to head out into the storm, the clouds parted and the sun returned to the sky. It stayed clear until we reached our seats - covered, of course. Unfortunately, the Sox lost the game but, hey, you can't win them all.
You may think I'm crazy but it's not just me that believes that Fenway is a sanctuary. As we turned onto Lansdowne Street, Uncle Tom showed me the goosebumps on his forearm and said, "I feel like I should genuflect".
It must be in the genes.

A Pinch Of Hostility

During my Nantucket vacation, I've spent a good amount of time window shopping and, much to my bank account's chagrin, spent my hard-earned dollars on special items. One of my most memorable shopping experiences took place at The Nantucket Gourmet.
As a tourist, I assumed from the street that this establishment was a deli or a bakery...some place to grab a quick snack to hold me over until dinner. I was WAY off. Apparently, this establishment specializes in "What just happened?" moments.
For starters, the first thing I noticed after walking through the doors was that it was more of a kitchen supply store - similar to Le Gourmet Chef - than a deli. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I did notice that there was a food counter in the back of the space. I asked the boy at the counter if the sandwiches were any good. The young boy at the counter, with his left arm in a sling, responded (after a long pause) with, "Eh...I eat one every day."
I wouldn't say his greatest strength is sales...and it's clearly not skateboarding either...hence the sling.
I made my way over to the food area in the back and looked at the hanging special menu. The #1 caught my eye - chicken, pesto, mozzarella & tomato panini. Yes, please! I ask the foreign man in the white apron doing absolutely nothing where I place my order. He pointed to the other side of the counter...so I make my way over there.
Once over "there", I asked again. "Where do I place my order?"
The main lady snapped back with, "Did you fill out a form?" Did I fill out a form? What in the world?
Apparently, they don't speak to customers at this establishment. Not exactly the sales model I'd go with, especially in a touristy town.
The form asked what you wanted on the sandwich, your name and whether you want a half sandwich or a whole.
I filled out the appropriate form and asked where to drop off said form. I'm not a complete idiot but there is no signage anywhere and, clearly, no one is interested in helping me. The woman just pointed to the top of the counter and I did as she requested.
I successfully placed my order. Finally.
While I was trying to figure out how to order a sandwich a woman walked in...straight from a J Crew catalog...and verbally ordered a #1 panini. She had great taste of sandwiches and clothes. After a short while, the main lady asked the woman if she had filled out a form. Uh oh!
She said, "No, I thought you only needed to fill one out if it was a special order." After my fiasco with the form, I just knew that the next sandwich up was mine and that J Crew would be sent to Nantucket Gourmet jail.
A paper bag made it's way to the top of the counter and I extended my hand to it. "No, you weren't the first #1. You were the second #1."
I turned to my friend and gave her the "Am I crazy?" look. As it turns out, I'm not crazy. Mrs. J Crew, without officially ordering her sandwich, walked out with my sandwich (probably with my name on it) and I am left next to packets of herbs and spices rolling my eyes.
I took the second #1 sandwich and headed towards the boy in the sling to be cashed out. I placed...okay, let's be honest...threw my sandwich down on the counter and muttered something like, "This place is a shit show." Another friend of mine says, "She doesn't go to restaurants often" to which I respond with, "This is NOT a restaurant."
Sling boy responded with, "Well, maybe next time you should call ahead ten minutes to place your order."
You mean to tell me that in the center of Nantucket, your company expects people to just know how to order a freaking panini with your secret special forms and, if they don't have faith in themselves that they can fill out the forms on their own, to know enough to call ahead?
You're lucky that the sandwich tasted good. Fine...it was amazing.

Trapped...For Just A Little While

On my way out of the building yesterday afternoon, something happened to me that has never happened to me before...and I hope it never happens to me again. I got stuck in the elevator. As it turns out, I'm not great under pressure.
Let me start from the beginning...
I've started taking the bus to and from work to cut down on the mileage that I'm putting on my leased car so I left work a little later than normal. I'd hate to leave at the normal departure time and then stand in the brewing storm until the bus came. I'd be a lightening magnet for sure with this polka-dotted umbrella!
On the way out, my co-worker, Sandy, and I joined three other ladies in the elevator on the 7th floor. Sandy used to work with one of the gals so she was asking about her daughters on our descent to the ground floor. Apparently, one of them just got engaged to her boyfriend of 11 years. My response, "Whoa! That's a long time!" Well, it is.
The woman...let's just call her Jean...had just started to say that the couple was going to wait until 2014 for the nuptials so that the bride-to-be could finish school as she was just....GASP! Oh great...the elevator stopped.
We all look around at each other with our jaws on the floor. I break the ice with, "Thank God there aren't more people in here!" Another woman chimes in with, "Thank God I'm not alone." And a third woman says, "Thank God I just used the bathroom."
The number on the elevator changed from "4" to "- -", which can't be good. My first thought is that the building got hit by lightening...this damn polka-dotted umbrella!
Jean pushes the alarm and the phone button, which goes right to the useless security office in the office. As she's telling them that we're stuck in the elevator, we start to move but the floor numbers never appear. After a few seconds that seemed like several minutes, the elevator doors open and we're at the ground floor.
We all safely exit and I say, "Ladies, we just bonded!" Don't ask...I was nervous.
The security officer at the front desk doesn't even give us a second glance. Thanks, sir. We're fine.
We didn't have enough time to coordinate a perfectly timed jump to trick the elevator or talk about what we were going to do if we ever got out, like in You've Got Mail. I was just hoping I didn't miss the bus.
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Thanks, Panera!

Picture this...I'm sitting at my desk at 12:30pm when my tummy begins to growl. I didn't have time to make a lunch this morning so I look through my change purse and find approximately $2.50. Oh great. What's a girl to do? I lean towards credit card debt.
I place my sunglasses atop my head and head for the door. On my way to Panera Bread for the second time in six days.
I walk in and, to my surprise, there's no line. This is amazing because this location is always busy.
I walk up to the happy girl behind the counter (on uppers, no doubt) and place my order - You Pick Two w/Caesar salad and half a grilled turkey panini. The girl, who is, clearly, not interested in making the store any money tells me that they have this coupon flyer and that if I pay $2 for the flyer in one transaction I can use one of the coupons for the meal I just ordered and I'd just have to pay for the drink.
Score!
I take out my two folded dollars and hand them over. I take the flyer thingy and rip off the bottom right hand corner and hand it back to the girl. I also hand over my My Panera Member Card. (For those of you not in the know, the My Panera Member Card is, more or less, a frequent buyer card. The clerk simply swipes your card with every purchase and, in return, you get surprises and offers when you least expect them.)
I  pull out my credit card so I can pay for my iced tea...lame, I know, but it wouldn't be the first time I used my credit card for something under $3. Ms. Uppers gasps and says, "You have a free beverage on your account! Would you like to use that today?"
Clearly, I would!
Thank you very much for a $2 lunch, a free power breakfast sandwich (for another day, of course) and a free coffee for my boss. I don't like the taste of coffee.

Bad Boys

I was running some errands on Route 2 this evening and I saw the most bizarre thing.
I was at a stop light and I saw a biker (motorcycle not bicycle) coming towards me at a reasonable pace (on the other side of the road, of course). On his tail was a Warwick police cruiser with his lights flashing and siren "woo-woo"-ing.
The biker was forced to stop because there were cars in front of him waiting for the light to turn green. From where I was sitting, it looked like the biker was talking with the police officer in the cruiser. When the light did, in fact, change to green, the cruiser attempted to corral the biker into a nearby parking lot by taking a right turn.
The biker...let's call him Butch...wasn't having that. He sped up and swerved around the cruiser and started, what I'm sure was, a police chase through Southern Rhode Island that could be featured on COPS.
Here's where I'm confused. Did Butch honestly think that he could get away with evading the police? Even if the cop didn't catch him tonight, there's a super slim chance that they can't find the guy in the days to come. I mean, I imagine that they have his license plate number and a description of the vehicle/guy. The cruiser probably had a video camera mounted to his dashboard for scenarios just like this!
For the love of God, Rhode Island is such a small state you are bound to run into the last person you want to see at some point!
Also, I can't imagine that the initial offense was SO bad that adding "Resisting an Officer" wasn't a big deal.
Sidenote: I do realize that this story would be 20 times better if Butch was a cyclist in a Spandex ensemble.

Drug Bust

While sitting in my car outside of Kohl's in the Riverdale Shoppes in early May, I turned my head and saw what looked to be a green plastic container in a plastic bag on top of a car's tire. I don't want to point fingers or jump to conclusions but it, clearly, had to have been a very well-organized drug deal. Hear me out...
The "stuff" is in the plastic Tupperware container in the plastic bag. The trusted junkie goes to the front passenger-side tire and retrieves the "stuff". He (all junkies are males, right?) pulls out his wallet and carefully counts out his dolla dolla bills and leaves the payment (with tip, of course) in the container.
When the dealer gets back to his ride after shopping at Kohl's, he gets the Tupperware off the front tire and heads to the TD Banknorth just across the parking lot.
Sounds like a fool proof plan to me.

Dancing Nancies

What is it about driving with the windows down while the sun beats down upon your left forearm that only adds to the quality of a Dave Matthews Band song?
I remember many random things from many random occasions and the one constant I remember about going to a DMB concert is that it's always gorgeous out. Oh, okay. There are two constants. It's always gorgeous out and it always smells like marijuana.
Other "inevitables": I give myself a crash course in DMB music in the days leading up to the concert. Once the big day comes, I'm always drinking out of a red plastic cup in a parking lot. Finally, I always have the best time.
A perfect spring or summer day seems to transport me to a DMB tailgate in Mansfield or Foxboro or Hartford.
See? Wikipedia knows! "The band is known for their annual summer-long tours of the US and Europe, featuring lengthy improvisational renditions of their songs, accompanied by an elaborate video and lighting show."
It's not that I don't like DMB when there are leaves or snow on the ground but, to me, it just sounds different. It's seasonal, almost. From Thanksgiving to New Year's Day, I listen to Christmas music and from Memorial Day to Labor Day, it's Under The Table And Dreaming, Stay and Proudest Monkey for me.
I haven't been to a DMB show in a few years so I'm really excited to see them when I visit San Diego in September...post-Labor Day. I realize this is pushing the DMB season a bit but, hey, it's in San Diego. I don't want to jinx it or anything but, chances are, the weather will be decent.

Greedy Greedy Greedy

A while back I told my Facebook friends to remind me to blog about an encounter I had at the Stop & Shop Customer Service desk. No one did. Lucky for you, I remembered on my own.
I had found four gift cards to Stop & Shop while pumping gas a few months ago. They were on the top of the pump and, although I assumed they had no money left on them, I took them anyways and made a special trip to Stop & Shop to inquire about their worth. Why would I pass up potential free money? I wouldn't. Call me greedy...
When I got to the service desk, there were two people in front of me. Two crazy people.
Crazy customer #1 was returning a half-eaten bag of potato chips. Can you actually do that?
Crazy customer #2 had a laundry list of things he needed taken care of. He had explained to the service representative, me and anyone else that would listen that his mother's boyfriend had just passed away and, while cleaning out his house, they found a pile of scratched lottery tickets, gift cards and paper gift certificates.
The employee took the pile of lottery tickets and, one by one, scanned them into the machine. Each scan prompted a ridiculous jackpot alarm. This took a few minutes and, honest to God, by the time the employee was done scanning the tickets Crazy customer #2 had turned to me at least three times to apologize for how long his transaction was taking.
"I'm so sorry. If I could've come at a different time, I would've. I take the bus..." What? So you would've wasted someone else's precious time? It didn't matter what time you came in...you still would've been wasting someone's time.
Crazy customer #2 was given over $60 in cash for the deceased man's winnings. R.I.P.
Next, he asked the man at the service desk to check the balance on each of the gift cards. There must've been 20 of them. They were still connected to the cardboard just like the ones for purchase at the register and they have their amounts printed right on them. The very patient employee checked each one and verified that they were for the amount that was noted on the cards.
Finally, he asked if the paper gift certificates were still valid. The employee apologized and stated that they no longer accept those paper gift certificates. Crazy customer #2 requested to speak with the manager on duty so he could complain about how a business shouldn't be run that way. The woman manager advised that those paper gift certificates were years old and their current system no longer could process them.
Crazy customer #2 took a phone number for the corporate office so he could lodge a formal complaint against...the store? The computer system? Time?
I couldn't get over how greedy this man was. Between the lottery winnings and the never-been-used gift cards, he walked out with hundreds of dollars but, like many do, he wanted more.
Anyways, he finally left...and waited for his bus.
The employee looks at me and calls me, "Ma'am". Ugh. I tell my story about how I found the gift cards and hand them over and, almost guilty, asked him to check the balance on them. Of course, they all had a balance of $0.00. I also asked him to exchange my $10 for a roll of quarters and he denied me. "You'd need to go to the bank for that...but it's Sunday and they're closed. Sorry."
I took the rejection well...and I thought I was bad. Hardly!

"Am I Caught In A Hit And Run?"

I left work on Monday with a spring in my step. It was absolutely gorgeous outside and I had big plans for my evening. I just wanted to get to it. Things that were on my agenda: Go to the gym, stop at the supermarket, go to Mike's place and have dinner prepared for when he got home at 8:30pm.
Unfortunately, plans for Taco Night were ruined.
I arrived at the gym on Mineral Spring Avenue around 5:15pm. I badged in and went to the women's locker room and prepared to get my pump on. During my time at Work Out World, some gentleman stole my mat practically from underneath me and the treadmill I got on had a broken TV. Argh...
At about 6:15pm, I collected my things from my locker and made my way to my car. At first I couldn't find it in the parking lot. I couldn't exactly remember where I parked. None of the cars looked like The Grey Lady.
I soon realized that the car with the rear bumper on the ground with the huge dent in it was, indeed, mine.
I didn't see a guilty-looking driver near the car so my thought was "Oh, GREAT!" But, then, a choir of angels sang a hymn and led me to a note on the windshield. Nope, it wasn't from the driver of the car. It was even better than that! It was from someone who saw the whole thing go down and they got the kid's license plate number.
After calling Dad & Mom, I finally got enough sense to call the North Providence Police Department, which, by the way, I could see from where I was standing in the parking lot. It's diagonally across the street...which was great because the officer got there in a jiffy.
In the meantime, I received several concerned glances and "Did that just happen?"'s from the gym-goers.
The police officer came over to me, took the note & notified SWAT (not really) of the license plate number on the note. As I was standing there with the Po-Po, SWAT was at this kid's house. I say "kid" because he was born in 1994.
1994 was a big year for me. I got my braces removed, graduated from eighth grade and started high school. I did NOT receive court dates for a hit and run or for driving with a suspended license. (Just a sidenote, he thought he just grazed my car with his side mirror. Please look at the damage above and laugh to yourself.)
Anyways, Mike's Mom came to take laundry baskets out of my car so it could be towed. I waited in the parking lot until 8:30pm, stealing McDonald's WIFI. Finally, AAA came and, rather than tow the car, he slapped some duct tape on it and called it a day.
It actually made me annoyed that I didn't come up with that idea prior to waiting there for hours but whatever. It worked out.
I am still able to drive my car...although, I look pretty ghetto. Thank God I have a grey car. The duct tape, sort of, blends in. If you look real close (maybe) you don't notice.
Nah...I know better. Everyone on the road has been giving me looks and no one will park near me. I'm like a road leper. I want to make a sign and hang it in my back window that says, "It wasn't my fault. Honest."

Put Me In, Coach

While watching yesterday's Red Sox v. Tigers season opener in Detroit, I was reminded of something...something that I've thought of for many years but never actually verbalized until now.
Why is it that the only thing I can easily spot while traveling in a airplane is a baseball field?
During the broadcast, they showed aerial shots of the stadium from a blimp and I got to thinking how on every flight I've ever been on I've searched for fields. I don't know why but it makes me very happy. Is it because I'm a huge baseball fan or does everyone do this? I'd like to think everyone participates in my little game of I Spy.
I mean, I highly doubt that I would recognize the Rocky Mountains, the Mississippi River or the Grand Canyon, but a little league baseball field in Blue Springs, NE - no problem.
Maybe I enjoy it because it's a reminder that no matter where you reside in the United States of America, one thing - the love of baseball - connects us all...the excitement of the first pitch and the final out, the smell of hot dogs, the crunch of peanut shells under your shoe soles and the phrase "Play Ball".

As A Courtesy

The word "courtesy" is defined as excellence of manners or social conduct; polite behavior; a courteous, respectful, or considerate act or expression.


There are several ways one can act in a courteous and polite manner. Be gentle, not forceful or insistent; be nice; be honest; be graceful and show elegance.
This might seem like an easy enough character trait to possess, however, there are many people in this world...in Rhode Island...in the Providence Place Mall parking garage, for example...that are facing 180* in the wrong direction when it comes to being courteous to others.
On Monday, I was walking to my car after a long day in the office and, as you know from my previous blog posts, I walk in the drive-out exit. I know...I know...it's dangerous but this allows me to witness the most ridiculous behavior Providence has to offer, like people dancing, arguing and picking their nose while waiting for traffic to ease up.
Anyway, as I took a turn to walk into the garage, a family began walking along the sidewalk in front of the exit. They looked like tourists to me. They were looking at the architecture of the buildings and reading the signs to make sure they were headed in the right direction...to the Cheesecake Factory, no doubt.
Unfortunately, their sightseeing was interrupted by an impatient knucklehead trying to leave the lot. (Don't worry - he didn't run them over but he did give them something to talk about while at dinner.)
Shouting loudly out of his window for all to hear, "Jesus! I'm being courteous letting you even cross! The least you could do is move faster!"
Keep in mind, this is the same walkway that Providence's finest frequent to allow pedestrians to walk without the danger of being run over by idiots not paying attention to where they're going. Many times, a cop will stop the vehicle traffic for several minutes so a large swarm of pedestrians can cross the road without incident. For this guy to flip out about these five people, well, it's just crazy to me. Man, I'd love to see his face if a police officer was nearby...not that his words or tone were a crime but I trust the cop would've given him a stern look and, hopefully, a good talkin' to.
I just had to shake my head at him because who is in that big of a rush? Who would embarrass themselves because of something so foolish? What's an extra 30 seconds? Perhaps this "long" wait saved him from getting into a car accident on 95 South. You never know! Things happen for a reason.
As I turned my head to face forward, something caught my eye that explained why he acted in such a manner. He was from Connecticut.

Social Butterfly

Perhaps it's just the life of a vibrant 31-year-old gal, but I've become accustomed to scheduling myself into the ground. Weddings, showers, birthday parties, vacations, dinners, appointments...it just never ends.
Today is April 1, 2012. Going forward, I'm already booked for nine of the next 13 weekends, putting me into July. Doesn't just the thought of it make you tired?
People always say that they follow my adventures on Facebook. "You're always doing something!" they say.
The truth is, I don't know where to draw the line.
Do I start declining invitations to good friends' weddings? Do I make up some excuse why I can't attend a dinner party? Do I fore go holidays and special events at home with my family?
I want to attend everything and see the people that I care about but, at some point, something's gotta give. Don't get me wrong. I have a great time at all of these events but I have come to the realization that I can't do everything...and, unfortunately, I can't be in more than one place at the same time.
I need to relish and, perhaps, publicize the times when I'm in my pajamas on the couch watching a "chick flick" on a Sunday afternoon or catching up on some laundry so that I have clothes to wear to work the next week. (All of which, by the way, I'll be doing today.)
I'm going to give it a whirl.
Hopefully my next blog will be titled "Girl's Night In: The True Story of a Girl, a Mint Julep Mask and Take Out".

Watch Your Fingers

Once upon a time, I was going out to lunch with a very charming, good-looking, young gentleman. Prior to driving to the restaurant, I went into the backseat of the car to put on a different pair of shoes...flip flops to be exact. I mean, it is late March after all!
I put my right hand on the door to balance myself so I didn't fall onto the pavement. (That would've been a sight!)
Unfortunately, at that very moment, the same very charming, good-looking, young gentleman rolled down the back window and then rolled it back up catching my middle finger in between the glass and the door frame.
Ouch.
I yelled, "Ouch!" and the very charming, good-looking, young gentleman gasped and said something to the effect of, "Oh my God! Are you okay? I'm so sorry!"
I was perfectly fine...but my eyes watered anyways.
This episode in the parking lot brought me right back to the summer of 1999(?).
My father had rented a house down the Cape for a week and we decided to go mini-golfing. I drove my grandfather, my brother and his girlfriend at the time to the course just down the street. She was awful but that's not what this story is about.
Being in his eighties, it took "The Big O" a good long while to get himself out of the passenger seat. Foolishly, he used the car frame in between the front and the back seat to help himself out. That's when my brother decided to shut his back door...and when I decided to lock the doors...catching grandpa's fingers...yep, you guessed it...in the door.
Have no fear, "The Big O" played, probably, his best game of mini-golf ever, earning himself three holes-in-one (if my memory serves me correctly).
This afternoon, I didn't have a monumental golf game but I did enjoy a chicken tender meal and split a strawberry Awful Awful with a great great guy. I consider that a win.

I Sure Will Party!

I went to Iparty this evening to pick up some Irish-themed items for an event in May while they're in stock for the impending High Holiday. The event in May has something to do with my mother and her becoming another year older. Enough about that.
I grabbed a few items that I loved and then a few that I wasn't 100% in love with. I sauntered over to the cash register and the young lad rang me up and announced my total - $43.21.
$43.21?
That is not what I had in mind. This totally caught me off-guard but I swiped my credit card anyways.
It wasn't until I was in my car driving home that I realized that I definitely shouldn't have purchased these items. I did what any person in their right mind should do - I turned around and drove back to the store.
I parked my car in the same parking spot I had just left and looked at my receipt. "Food, Seasonal & Clearance items are Non-Returnable." Crap.
I tried my luck (of the Irish) anyways.
I walked in and, thankfully, the young boy that rang me up just minutes earlier was still at his register.
Me: "Hi. I was in here, like, five minutes ago. Can I return these?"
Boy: "Oh, sure."
Me: "Great. I found something else somewhere else." I lied.
Boy: "Want me to refund your card or give you cash?"
Me: "Oh, if I could get cash that'd be great...but either one is fine."
Boy: "Okay, here's $25.59."
I dumped the cash into my purse and ran back to my car because I know, having worked in retail for several years, he shouldn't have done that.
This shopping experience completely shocked me. I went into that store expecting to be rejected and getting stuck with these items. I came out with cash and a new love for Iparty.

Remember "That" Girl?

It's not usually a good thing to be known as "that girl".
You don't want to be the sloppy girl that everyone talks about the morning after the party. You don't want to be the girl that wears the band's t-shirt to the concert. And you DEFINITELY don't want to be remembered as "that girl" after a night at Jacques Cabaret.
For those of you not in the know, Jacques Cabaret is a drag show in Boston where bachelorette parties and women's birthday celebrations will live in infamy. In this case, "drag" does not mean car racing.
Recently, I was in attendance at a 7pm showing and, let me tell you, I have never been more terrified and laughed so hard at the same time in all of my days.
First, let me introduce the cast and then I'll tell you why I was so traumatized by this outing.
Mizery - To say that I'm scared of this lady is a severe understatement. She must have been 6'3" and at least 250 lbs. Take that and squeeze it into a sequined catsuit. Meow! She performed the Whitney Houston medley and for that I'll be forever grateful but, even in her Bobby Brown years, Whitney looked much more put together than this chick.
Miss Kris - She not only was the hostess with the most-ess but she took a liking to some of our ladies...and how can you blame her? She added the commentary and the comedy for the evening. Loved her.
Katie - This firecracker was doing handstands for God's sake! She was tall, lean and had crazy X-tina Lady Marmalade hair. She, without a doubt, looks better in spandex than anyone I've ever seen.
And, finally...
Destiny - I'm jealous of her. She was gorgeous! She performed Nikki Minaj and it was like you were at a concert. She really looked like her, especially with that blond & blue hair!
But the woman that had us all talking for the rest of the weekend and the one that I can't get out of my head...not a good thing...was Bride #2.
At the beginning of the show, the brides-to-be were brought up on stage and asked a few questions about their big days, honeymoons, etc. At first, I just thought that she had a few too many drinks and was starting to get a bit annoying. I had no idea of what was to come.
Shame on this girl's friends for allowing her to behave the way she did. Put it this way, I saw way more of this girl than I had planned on/wanted to. She was totally inappropriate and was starting to really creep me out. Not to mention, she probably spent $200 stuffing cash into the half-assed sequined costumes of the ladies.
The fact that you're the creepiest part of the show...and you're not even IN the show. That's a problem.
I had a good time. Don't get me wrong. But I think this is something to have on your bucket list. Once you go once, cross it off your list and move on.

Rules And Regulations

"February 7, 2012
To: All ____________ Residents
From: Management Company
Re: Rules and Regulations
I would like to take this opportunity to remind all ________ Residents that we are NOT to dump excess carpets, mattresses, furniture, and Televisions etc. into the Dumpsters here at ________.
The City of Warwick will not pick them up. You must make your own arrangements for disposal.
Also recently we discovered a washing machine had been installed in a unit here at ________. This is NOT allowed, and anybody who may have a washer within their unit, I would recommend you remove it immediately.
If we find any illegal appliance, or any illegal dumping into our dumpsters, we will assess a $250.00 to $500.00 fine per occurrence. These violations cost us all, and many times the problem stems from a renter and not an owner.
Also if you see someone dumping illegally, please take down the plate number and vehicle make and model. Call Management Company, and we will contact the police.
________ has come a long way in recent months, and we don't want to increase Condo Fees for those who do not follow the rules.
Therefore please remember to follow the rules, and again if we find anyone in violation, they will be fined accordingly.
Thank You for Your attention regarding these matters.
Management Company
Telephone Number"

Where the heck do I live?

"Oh, Hell Yes"

I don't know much but I do know that when your best friend asks you if you wanna go to Monster Jam after work, you say, "Oh, Hell Yes".
I got a text from Kate last Friday inviting me to Monster Jam at the Dunkin' Donuts Center in Providence. She was "workin' it" and was able to get in for free...and, apparently, bring a friend at no charge.
We walked in a few minutes late and I instantly lost my hearing. We bee-lined for the closest vendor and Kate treated me to yellow foam earplugs. Perhaps the best $2 ever spent.
I followed her to the turn style and she showed her fancy dancy all-access pass and the woman waved us through with eyes that said, "What the hell are you doing here?"
We inserted our earplugs and walked past a crying child in the hallway and through the curtains to the most ridiculous place I've been in quite some time...okay, maybe it hasn't been that long. I was at Jacques Cabaret just a few weeks ago. That's another story for another time.
Anyways, the Dunk floor is covered in dirt, beat-up cars being used as ramps and MONSTER TRUCKS! The audience was mainly dads and their sons, who were just finishing up school vacation. Nothing says "Back To School" quite like an emergency audiology appointment on Saturday afternoon.
Everyone was there - Grave Digger, Monster Mutt, Eradicator, Backdraft, Crushstation.
Don't think for one second that the name "Crushstation" was lost on me. This truck was styled like a lobster with the yellow bands around it's claws. Totally awesome!
Anyways, about half way through Kate and I looked at each other and decided we would leave a bit early but it wasn't until we saw a woman in her mid-forties(?) go to the concourse and return wearing a Monster Mutt mesh hat with floppy, furry brown ears that we acted on that decision.
Kate: "Wanna go?"
Me: "Oh, hell yes!"

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

When I was born, I lived on a relatively busy street in West Springfield, MA. It was just two houses away from the high school, which meant that irresponsible 16-year-olds were carelessly driving up and down the street in front of my house on a daily basis. The front yard was not exactly a safe place to be playing tea party with your stuffed animals and dolls.


I was an only child for quite some time so I quickly learned to entertain myself. After years of seeing me build forts in the backyard with folding lawn chairs or pushing my doll on my swing set, my parents decided it was necessary to move to a neighborhood with kids...and lots of them.
And, boy, did they ever deliver.
My parents built a house on Edgewood Road where kids my age were in abundance! This was the perfect place for "Tricia".
Soon after moving in, I found performance costars, back up singers, fellow "PTA moms", biker gang members, Olympic swimmers and divers and soldiers all disguised as my childhood friends.


We'd sled down Turmel's hill every winter. We'd have chocolate covered donuts every Sunday after church. We'd have a neighborhood Easter egg hunt every spring (even in the snow). We'd have pool parties and cookouts every summer. Halloween was quite a sight!
We'd put on plays (Wizard of Oz) on Nazzal's deck and recreate Troop Beverly Hills in Fiorentino's basement. We'd play "War" in the woods and play "Mom" on bikes in the driveway. "Gotta drop the kids off at soccer practice."
This neighborhood was like a family to me...even after my only child status was removed. Everyone just looked out for one another. It was a real community.
Mrs. Williams drove me home with two Freeze Pops after I fell off my bike and needed stitches in my knee. Mrs. Liebel would play the piano with the windows open every evening during dinner. Dr. Collins was my parents' first phone call when Mike or I weren't feeling well or got hurt. We always knew when Mr. Turmel was home from work as his brakes would squeak coming down the hill. You could hear the basketball dribbles coming from Ranstrom's driveway on a daily basis. You shared in the stress/laughter when a bat got into the Turmel's house.
The Ding Dong Cart would make a mint driving down our street...every day during the summer...just as we were sitting down to dinner. Kids from all houses would appear from thin air and run to the side of the road for a cool treat.
It was sad to leave such a great place but it was necessary. There wasn't an Edgewood University for us all to attend.
I went off to college and then my mother sold our house. Other families have also moved on from this great place where lots of my childhood memories still live on. When I'm in the area, I'll sometimes drive by and reminisce about those good times.
My neighbors today are nowhere near as great...although they do provide me with some amazing laughs and blog posts. For example, just this past Saturday this man was shoveling the grass. Not quite sure why. This is the same man that walked into my apartment when I first moved in asking for iced coffee. Good times...

Singles Awareness Day

Well, it's here again. That pesky holiday that reminds single ladies everywhere that they're, once again, single. The dreaded Valentine's Day...or, as I like to call it, "Singles Awareness Day".
Even if you're 100% secure in yourself and content with being single on February 13th, when that clock turns to 12:01am on the morning of February 14th, it's only natural to fall into a deep depression and eat your way through a large heart box of chocolates that your mother sent you.
Remember back in the day when Valentine's Day was fun? The few days prior would be spent crafting your own mailbox, which usually consisted of a paper bag, glitter and construction paper hearts. Everyone would bring sweet treats and cards into their elementary school classrooms and deliver small tokens of affection to their friends and classmates.
Maybe it was just me but, every year, I'd get home from school on February 14th, dump my bag-o-goodies out on my bed and try to decipher what the boys' handwriting meant. "He signed his name with a heart over the 'i'...that must mean he loves me."
I'm pretty sure that if I went through my "Special Box", full of childhood memories, pictures and school projects, I'd find some Valentine's Day cards signed by the crush of that particular school year. These names are being withheld for confidentiality reasons.
When does Valentine's Day take on a new meaning? Was it those damn high school years? I knew those rose sales and candy grams would totally backfire!
To all my friends and family, I hope you all have an amazing Valentine's Day and know that I'm thinking of you fondly.

Find A Penny, Pick It Up

Yes, I realize it's only Tuesday but each day, so far, this work week I've found a penny on the ground. The first thing I thought was, "Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck".
This prompted a few questions: Where did this saying come from? Why do I even know it? Why do people drop money on the ground and decide to leave it there? Am I the only one who would stop in the middle of the street with cars coming in both directions to pick up a coin...especially a mere copper coin?Perhaps it's because my employer pays me in peanuts but I always stop to pick up change that I find on the ground. Yep, that dirty money that's sitting in a puddle of mud? I'm the girl that digs in there and retrieves it.
I, by no means, would consider myself lucky but one time I found $60 in the parking garage at the mall so my eyes have been trained to look down...just in case it were to happen again. (It hasn't.)
So, back to this saying..."Find a penny, pick it up all day long you'll have good luck". Clearly, this is something my mother ingrained into my head as a young girl. Will I really have good luck if I take it off the street and throw it into my purse?
Is this like, "Step on a crack, break your mother's back"? As far as I know, me doing so has not resulted in my mother's physical health.
The only good luck I found this week because of my "lucky" pennies is that I (broke and) fixed the copier at work and (started and ultimately) won an email war with a customer. Is this the type of luck one can expect?
I'm looking for something great and unexpected. I'm looking for the luck that brings along a job promotion...or extra vacation time...or a free drink...or a great sale...or a refund check in the mailbox...
Some say that one can get rid of bad luck by dropping a penny on the ground. The bad luck will follow the coin and be acquired by the next person to pick it up.
I bet I picked up those coins. Just my luck.

Fuzzy Red Slippers

On the way home from work this week, I ran into Stop & Shop, which I lovingly refer to as "Stoppie". I just needed a few things to get me through the week - cottage cheese, Luna bars, Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Eggs. (What?)
I lucked out with a great parking space right out front. I grabbed my reusable shopping bag - go green! - and made my way for the door.
As I was about to cross the street, a psycho driving a mini-van peeled into the parking lot and, honest to God, came to a screeching halt in the fire lane right in front of the door. In a movie, this is when I would be kidnapped by men in ski masks and taken away never to be heard from again.
Luckily, it was just a lady wearing a winter coat, sweatpants and her fuzzy red slippers. She opened her car door so quickly and cut me off to run inside the store. She left her young children inside...probably with the keys still in the ignition.
As she nearly bowled me over to pass me, she mentioned that she had left her purse inside the store just a short time ago. I kinda hold back a few seconds. I don't want anyone to think that we're together.
She walks in approximately 20 feet in front of me so she's a reasonable distance away but I can still eavesdrop on everything that she's saying to the poor Stoppie employee assisting at the self-checkout line. She runs in the store, looks around like she's on a scavenger hunt and runs up to this kid. "Uh, I just got back from break. I haven't seen it. Go to the customer service desk," the kid says as he points to the other end of the store.
Keep in mind, this woman is wearing, essentially, her pajamas...at 5pm...out in public. AND, now, to top it all off, she's making a scene.
She shuffles to the other end of the store and, as she does so, I hear some random woman say, "That sucks!".
I was not about to wait around to see if she ever found her purse but my guess is someone else took it home that day. Also, my guess is that her children hijacked the mini-van and escaped from this crazy lady.
Nope, today was not her day.

Hide Your Belongings

I appreciate the Providence Place Mall parking lot for being just a short walk from work, for providing a roof so on snowy days I don't have to brush off my car and for being open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
What I don't appreciate, however, is them leaving a note on my windshield if I have ANYTHING in plain sight inside. "Together we can make a difference! Lock your car. Take your keys. Hide your belongings." Really? Who doesn't take their keys?I am grateful that they're concerned about the potential of someone breaking into my car to steal my things but they are drawing more attention to the items inside by leaving this note.
See the pictures above.
As much as I'm concerned about someone stealing a yellow, plastic hangar or an empty water bottle or a "just came from the dentist" kit - toothbrush, toothpaste and floss - if my car was broken into, these things might cost me a whopping $20 to replace. Clearly, there's no value requirement for these notes to be put under windshields.
I can understand if I left out a wallet or a diamond ring or a baby...but a toothbrush? Really?

Pat

I just returned from the dentist. Good news: no cavities or any other issues...except that I'm an aggressive brusher. Bad news: the dental hygienist called me "Pat".
Attention: dental hygienists, bank tellers and retail clerks! If you see my name written down as "Patricia", if you're not sure of a nickname, just call me as it's written. That is my name, after all!
Over the years, I've been called Pat, Patty, Patsy (my favorite)...none of which I've actually adopted. "Hey, that's a good idea. I'm going to abandon 'Trish' and start going by 'Patsy'!"
The thing that gets me though about my recent office visit is that I've been going to this same dentist since I've developed teeth. The wrong-name culprit has seen me twice a year since I was, what?, two years old. She assisted in many of my cleanings and even during an oral surgery. My mother had also gone to this dental office for years and, while she was in the chair, I was in the waiting room rocking pigtails and reading Highlights...talking to this same lady.
She remembers that I currently live in Rhode Island and that I went to Nantucket for vacation last summer. Why does she remember random details about my life but doesn't even know my name?
I realize that this poor woman can't remember EVERYBODY that walks through those doors, but I think she should at least make a note in my file. It'll take just a few seconds to write in and then I won't give her the stink eye every six months.

I Want My MTV

As I was driving around town the other day, I heard a few songs on the radio that brought me back in time..."Ordinary World" by Duran Duran, "Hero" by Mariah Carey and "Runaway Train" by Soul Asylum.
These songs brought me back to my childhood bedroom on Edgewood Road. They brought me back to my middle school days when I would watch MTV in my bedroom and watch music videos while on the telephone with school friends...the same friends that I saw all day in the classroom. I just couldn't get enough of them, I suppose.
Anyways, these songs took me back to a really fun, carefree time in my life. Not since those days have I been on the phone with someone for hours and didn't really even speak to them. Whose idea was it to call a friend, put on the same television channel and just sit there, essentially silent, watching TV "with" them? Why did we do this? How did my parents allow me to tie up the phone line for hours upon hours every single evening?
I long for those carefree days again. I long for a night like that...a night where I wasn't responsible for doing laundry, doing the dishes or going grocery shopping. Back in 1991, my biggest worry was call waiting interrupting the call.
Assuming MTV still played music videos and that houses still had land lines, would these types of behaviors still be happening? Have cell phones and Teen Mom ruined this for all teenagers?
Oh, how times have changed.

Well, That Explains It

I know this might come as a shock to some of you but I've been known to have some pretty wide mood swings. Seriously, though, one moment I'm totally content...and, the next, I recommend you stay away from me. Well, last night I was crowned Queen of the Mood Swings.
I don't really know what caused this. I mean, I had a decent day. It was a holiday so I had the day off from work. I went to the gym, ran a few errands and even scored a free dinner.
Last night, though, I was acting so weird...and I couldn't even find the words to explain what I was feeling or why I was acting so bizarrely.
For most of the day today, I was thinking about why I was behaving so poorly last night. I was being difficult and argumentative for no real reason. And, to top it off, I was overly sensitive and childish. I almost started to cry, for heaven's sake!
I thought it must be because I'm not feeling 100% or because I'm stressed out about a few things.
BUT, good news, it had nothing to do with me at all!
I'm not sure why I'm just learning about Blue Monday now but this HAS to be the reason why I was annoying even myself last night. According to an article I read today, Blue Monday was invented back in 2005 by psychologist Cliff Arnall. At the time, he declared the third Monday in January to be the most depressing day of the entire year.
This makes total sense to me!
Between the freezing cold temperatures, post-holiday debt, and a drop in motivation, I can see why this day has been deemed Blue Monday. According to Dr. Arnall, the "low" is due to "the hibernation effect", which basically means that we're eating and sleeping more and feeling more lethargic.
So, that's the rationalization I'm going with...Blue Monday. As for my next temper tantrum, I'm sure I'll have a valid excuse for that too.

Cuckoo Bananas

Earlier this week, a good friend gave me a banana. At first, I thought this was a very unusual gift. Who sees a banana and thinks, "I think Trish would really enjoy this. Let me present it to her the next time we meet,"?
After accepting the yellow banana with minimal brown spots on it, I recounted a story from when I was a young tot. My parents left me with Uncle John during a trip to the Constitution State. Uncle John was the brother of "Grandpa G", the one and only - Orlando Pasquale.
Anyway, when my parents shut the door and made their way to the car, I, obviously, wailed for several minutes. It didn't take Uncle John long to find some way to amuse a 2-year-old. He grabbed the first things he could get his hands on - a banana and a bowl of peanuts.
It was on that day that Uncle John invented the world's first banana telephone.
He put the banana up to his ear, rotary dialed the phone number in the bowl of peanuts and called my parents and requested that they return to the house. My parents never did come back inside while I was awake but I've been told that poor Uncle John dialed that phone for hours because it kept me laughing.
This story made me think of other banana stories. Yes, there are more.
I remember eating a banana out of the fruit bowl after school one afternoon. When I bent the stem back to peel it, it didn't actually break the peel apart. I wiggled it back and forth and it broke down the front. I used my thumb to separate the peel and I extracted the banana from the peel with my fingers. My poor middle school-aged sense of humor encouraged me to tape the banana peel back together and return it to the bowl on the kitchen island.
Needless to say, when my mother reached for a banana to put into her lunch bag for the next day's lunch, she grabbed said "banana" and it collapsed in her hands. Aren't I a riot?
Nowadays, I use the term "cuckoo bananas" when referring to things or people that are simply ridiculous, like Bjork. People smile when I use this term because they're polite...but, let's be honest, they're smiling because I am cuckoo bananas myself. Perhaps more than anyone else.
In hindsight, this banana was possibly the most perfect gift for me. Thank you!

Proving Stereotypes

Last Friday, I met a friend at Tavolino's in Patriot's Place for some of the yummiest pizza I've ever had, delicious drinks, bread that was as soft as a cloud and interaction with a dreamy waiter. We haven't seen each other in quite a while so it was great to catch up with her.
After dinner, we went into a few shops - Victoria's Secret, Old Navy and Charming Charlie's. After the stores closed at 9pm, we decided to drop our leftover pizza and purchases in our cars and head over to Toby Keith's I Love This Bar & Grill for their live music.
One of the best ideas we've ever had!
I've never been in there before and the very second I was served a Bud Light in a large mason jar, I knew that this was my type of place! I wouldn't say that I'm a huge country music fan but I don't change the station if a country song comes on the radio. I enjoy Sugarland, Carrie Underwood, Faith Hill, Taylor Swift and others that would, most likely, be considered "pop" by die hard country music fans.
What I can't get enough of, apparently, is country western stereotypes. If you're not sure of what a country western stereotype is, go to Toby Keith's I Love This Bar & Grill...immediately.
Not since the Big E have I seen so many plaid shirts, cowboy boots and John Deere hats.
As we stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, I was amazed as all of the stereotypes walked past me. They might as well have had straw in their mouths. I had no idea that Foxborough, MA, the home of the New England Patriots, was home to so many...dare I say it?...rednecks.
Don't get me wrong. We had an amazing time. The music was great, the venue was huge, the beer was cold and the crowd was just as entertaining as the band.
I wouldn't consider myself judgemental of others but a night like the one we experienced makes it hard to discount those stereotypes. For example, see the photo above. Not only is this girl rocking her white cowboy boots, but she's wearing a white top to match, a short denim skirt and...wait for it...NYLONS! Oh, also, her white belt with rhinestone "PEACE" was worn upside down. For a moment, I thought it said "PEREZ"...but it didn't. I don't think it really matters though.

Why People Go Postal

In late 2011, I became a casual Ebay seller. I'm just trying to de-clutter my life and, recognizing that I'll never have a yard sale, I figured why not get some money for this...stuff...by selling it on Ebay. Since starting in November, I've made a profit of $74.34. Not too bad for stuff I would've just assume throw away or donate.
Anyways, this has put me at the United States Post Office more often than usual. If I need to ship items mid-week, I head to Corliss Street, Providence because they have extended hours. I can stop before work in the morning or swing by on my way home. It's very convenient.
Tonight, I left work a little before 5pm, putting me in line at the post office by 5:10. My receipt for my transaction is dated "01/05/2012 05:18:05 pm". This gave me eight full minutes to take in my next blog topic.
As I walked in the door, there was a crowd around the counter for passports. Apparently, a family waited a bit too long to stop by for their passport renewal and they might NOT be going on their family vacation abroad. Also, I'm pretty sure that when asked how old the son was, he answered, "19...no, wait, 18".
Luckily, although there were many people in the room, not too many were actually in line. I walked up and was maybe five or six people back. Some of the loiterers were looking at the Valentine's Day cards. Some of them were finishing up filling out addresses on their envelopes. Others were cussing at their cell phones because, while trying to find something on the Internet, a "f***in' (word I can't say or even play with asterisks near)" wouldn't stop calling.
This girl, maybe early 20s, was trying to get information off of her phone but some boy wouldn't stop calling her. This infuriated her...but she wouldn't just answer the phone to say, "Hey. I'm busy. I'll call you back when I get through with this."
No, instead she began cussing at the phone causing her mother(?) to ask what the problem was. She, not so politely, told her, which caused everyone in the post office to either look up or make a face acknowledging that they had heard her potty mouth. Sidenote: "Mom" was wearing lovely perfume that reminded me of a Dave Matthews Band concert.
When the cell phone started vibrating against the counter again, "Mom" answered and advised the boy that the girl was in an interview right now and that she'll call him back when she is done. Honest to God, about 30 seconds later, the phone started again. This time she got more details. It was an emergency.
Apparently, the Spanish girl across the street wanted to either buy or borrow her flat iron. This IS a crisis and I don't understand why people started giggling to themselves when hearing the news.
A broken flat iron is no joke.

Big

I dined in the work cafeteria alone today which gave me some time to be bored to tears by news of the Iowa caucus, text a few friends and people watch. People watching is one of my favorite hobbies, mainly because I secretly enjoy being sneaky.
As I was eating, a tall woman with blonde hair styled in a bob and glasses entered the room and asked a coworker if she could join him. She was wearing a brown cardigan over a white blouse and a long plaid skirt to the calf to match. She had on knee-high socks and sturdy brown shoes. In my opinion, it was reminiscent of an elementary school uniform. I think the reason why I felt this way was because she had brought her lunch in a brown paper bag.
For the record, there's nothing wrong with bringing your lunch to work in a brown paper bag. I own brown paper bags and will occasionally transport my lunch from home to the lunch table in said brown paper bag...although, I do have a super cool blue and green lunch bag that I typically use.
I watched as the woman opened up her brown paper bag and took out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
For the record, there's nothing wrong with bringing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to work for lunch. I've done it on a number of occasions. It's delicious. I can't deny it...nor would I have a reason to.
The part that really got me was that she ripped the crust off her sandwich. This is something I may have done in 1984. I just found it humorous that a grown woman in her place of employment would be having the same lunch and be eating it the same way that I did while attending Mittineague Methodist Community Preschool. Apparently, I was ahead of my time.
I started to wonder if maybe this wasn't a live performance of Big, starring Tom Hanks, or 13 Going on 30, starring Jennifer Garner.
Maybe this woman simply wished she was a grown up and she transformed overnight into an adult. An adult with poor eyesight and questionable style.

2011: A Retrospective

As I look back in my weekly 2011 planner, I'm reminded of how many great things have happened in the past year...and how many things I'd like to forget...and how many things I've already forgotten.

Let's take this time to take a quick look back in the past year of my life.

I rejoined the gym and actually stuck with it. As I type this, I'm approximately 20 lbs lighter and several inches smaller than I was at this time last year and I feel so much better about myself. Big thank yous go out to Work Out World, Nicole, Francesca and Javier for whipping me into shape.

My part-time job of seven years closed their doors for good in 2011. OOP! closed their Dedham doors on May 29th. I met some of the funniest and genuinely good people at OOP! Although I complained about working there after a full work day in the big city of Providence, I truly do miss the people and, of course, the extra money.

I dated 14 boys this year...and completely forgot about two of them. Who the hell are Ryan and Steven? (I apologize to Ryan and Steven if you're reading this. Also, I don't blame you if you've forgotten me too!) I got stood up this year for the first time ever in life...stupid Bobby. I also had one of the best dates ever...thanks to my good friend Tristen. On Valentine's Day, I met her for dinner and drinks at a hibachi style restaurant. The food was amazing. We received free roses from the bartender and free drinks. We met a friend while at the bar AND she brought me a whoopie pie from a Boston bakery. Best of all, I had the best company!

I went to Fenway park to see the beloved Red Sox five times and to see one of the most amazing concerts I've ever been to. I've said this before when I saw Dave Matthews Band play at Fenway that it was one of the best nights because so many of my favorite things/people were in the same place at the same time. Well, my friends, I can say that it happened again on June 11, 2011. I saw the New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys concert at Fenway with some of the greatest people on Earth. We had a great time and I even lost my voice. Thank the good Lord that I brought my NKOTB whistle!

I welcomed a new car into my life this year - The Grey Lady. I leased a 2011 Nissan Sentra in June and have already met the 1-year mileage limit. Zoinks! You people have to start coming to me!

My family welcomed a new addition as well. Nae'lyn Cecil Song Ginnetti was born on December 20, 2011 to Michael and Marie. Nae'lyn joins the ranks of cutest kids in America along with Mimi Gardenia Ginnetti, born July 15, 2010. I've also watched my friends' families multiply with the births of Caitlyn, Libby, John, Finn and Daniel.

I vacationed to Nantucket, Baltimore and New York City. I enjoyed this time off with friends, new and old; family and 10,000 Santas. I cooked myself on the beach, played in the park and ice skated at dusk.

I've reconnected with old friends and have strengthened relationships that I've had for years. I've spent some great times with "the home team", "Larned ladies" and the bouncers at Coconuts. I've danced until my feet have hurt and have laughed until I've cried.

I've celebrated with friends and family at bridal showers, engagement parties and weddings. I've won bridal bingo, for God's sake! I've seen friends earn promotions, awards and new jobs and move into new homes.

Like all things, 2011 did have it's disappointments and letdowns but I believe everything happens for a reason. Here's hoping that those lemons can be turned into lemonade...or chilled limoncello shots.

With all of the turmoil Mother Nature has dished out on Western Massachusetts this year, I'm just thankful that my friends and family are safe and sound. I know that 2011 has made me stronger as a person and I know I'm not the only one. I know some of the greatest people and they have truly astounded me with their courage and tough skin this year.

Hopefully 2012 will bring along good health, happiness and good fortune to myself and to all of you. Cheers!