Blah Blah Babycakes

iRegret?

You know how when you first start dating someone and you feel like you can't get enough of them? Your friends and family are ignored as you devour and explore each other for days, stopping only for basic necessities to keep you alive. 

Finally emerging from your love den feeling exhausted and a little empty as you try to rejoin the world of the living. Shaking as your soul tries to crawl back inside your body.

Meet my new lover:

It's why I haven't called. Which is strange, because it's a phone, but whatever. 

I do miss my Blackberry a little.  We were really comfortable together.  Me and that beast that wouldn't die.  The iPhone took me to a velvet rope club with bottle service and loud music. It made me feel young and hip for a second, but then because I'm 30-something (and very tired) that hip feeling quickly turned into the exact opposite and suddenly I wished I were home in my Gap loungewear with my Kindle, checking my old-fashioned Blackberry (whose buttons I knew how to push).  

But that's over now.  I made sure of that.  

And all of a sudden this is the metaphor that will not die...

Packing for a 4 day trip to New York - Part Two

Committing to minimal makeup was more difficult than cutting back on clothes, but with Fresh's Bronzer, Fiberwig's Mascara and Stila's lip and cheek stain I should have just the right stuff for a fresh and pretty face. I'll probably throw in a few tiny samples of eye cream and moisturizer too.   Oh, and I'll get my hair blown out when I arrive, so no need for flat irons or blow dryers.

So that's it!  I'll have my phone, klonopin, sunglasses and ipod (loaded with an action movie, chick flick and a Woody Allen film) in my handbag and I'll be on my way. 

I'm not forgetting anything, am I?


Yes!  I forgot to tell you to follow me on Twitter.  Duh.

 

Packing for a 4 day trip to New York - Part One

I'm going to New York for a few days and on my agenda are two rock shows, a birthday party (mine) and a fundraiser.  I need and want to pack a suitcase or two full of dresses, shoes and makeup, but instead I'm going to be low-maintenance girl and fit everything into a small, stylish carry-on and still look amazing wherever I go.  An impossible task, but here's how I'm going to do it.

I'm going to fit everything I need into this bag.

The jumpsuit and the shorts/tank can be worn to the two Hold Steady shows and the dress and heels to the benefit.  During the day I'll wear my yoga pants, white tee and gray sweater and of course I'll have my airplane clothes for travel days.  I rolled everything up, put the shoes on the bottom and it all fit perfectly.

Coming up next, makeup

Anonymous

I once got a phone call in high school and an unfamiliar female voice came on the line and asked me why I was such a bitch.  She hung up before I had a chance to answer her. 

Very distinctly I remember my body going hot and the sick feeling in my stomach, but that soon gave way to a delicious feeling of satisfaction.  Because it meant that I was somebody.  Somebody that people were talking about.  Good or bad didn't matter to me then. I was thrilled.

The same hot body, sick stomach feeling hit me when I read the anonymous note that was sent to me via regular mail a few weeks ago.  It was typed out on a small strip of paper.  It reminded me of a fortune cookie. My address was hand printed by either a child or a right-handed person's left.  The envelope was taped and the stamp was a sticker.  No DNA evidence. 

The sender of the note wanted me to know that a dear friend of mine regularly talks behind my back and that the topics do not put me in a good light. The sender thought I would want to know.

This time didn't feel quite so delicious.  It bothered and hurt me and not because of what the note said (It's not true, my dear friend is quite lovely and annoyingly is not much of a gossip or trash-talker), but that someone had gone through the trouble to disrupt my life in such a juvenile way.  It made Minneapolis feel small and suffocating.

I'm not at all unfamiliar with anonymous comments.  Being told that you suck is something that most every blogger gets to hear on occasion.  There was just something especially creepy about an anonymous letter in my mailbox.  It wasn't quite as easy to hit delete and ignore.

It was, however, a riotous time trying to profile the sad individual who sent the note. Over forty and bitter? Jealous and bored?  Crazy?  I tried to think of women I know who are on the verge. Or maybe it was a dude?  What kind of adult would do this? And what was their motive?  If it was to make me obsess about something for a few days, then mission accomplished. I brought the note to a party and my friend hung it on the wall as though it was an art installation. People flocked to it and couldn't stop talking about it. Everyone had a theory and some wondered if maybe the sender was at that very party. Everyone was a suspect. It was like a game of Clue. 

I think Mrs Peacock did it in the parlor with a candlestick.

Heaven and Hell

Walking around in the desert with masses of people and no indoor plumbing is my idea of hell, but that's my plan for tomorrow. 

I'm in Palm Springs for Coachella '09 and although this is my fourth year going, I've never actually made it to the festival.  Pregnancy, baby, toddler...I've always had an excuse and spent the three days by the pool with margaritas and magazines instead.  My idea of heaven.  This year I'll venture to the festival and rock out to Leonard Cohen, The Hold Steady and learn wtf a mashup is. (I love how there is a chick passed out in his bed.)

I forgot my camera thingie, so I have no photos, but I'll Twitter all my lame observations (from a safe distance in the VIP tent) all day tomorrow.

Three Years Ago:  You Can Check Out Any Time You Like

See-through

In the interest of transparency and keepin' it real, I'm moving all of my sponsored posts, contests and product reviews to a new blog.  This way you can be sure that what you are reading here is authentic and no compensation was received in exchange for a post. Introducing:

Blah Blah Babycakes *Reviews * Contests * Sponsored Posts

I'll be sure to send you over there for fun and interesting things, but you can also subscribe here:

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Happy Monday

The sun may be shining a little longer and stronger these days, but the winter doldrums still have quite a hold.  My friend Aimee introduced me to the Danish term Hygge (pronounced Hu-gah), which is similar to the German Gemutlichkeit, as both loosely translate to coziness. 

Alex Beauchamp of Hygge House explains it like this:

The Danish word Hygge (hu-gah) is a feeling or mood that comes from taking genuine pleasure in making ordinary everyday things simply extraordinary; whether it’s using real lights on a Christmas tree or breaking out the good wine when friends come over. It’s about owning things you only truly love or that inspire, being present in yourself and your life, putting effort into your home without being Martha Stewart or buying a bed in a bag. It’s about being conscious and authentic from home to work to friends to celebrations and making all events {no matter how big or small, mundane or exciting} matter. Words like coziness, security, familiarity, comfort, reassurance, fellowship, simpleness and living well are often used to describe the idea of Hygge..

Denmark's nine dark months of winter rivals Minnesota's, but the Danes survive by living the Hygge lifestyle:  Cozy, snuggly, candle-lit dinners, friends stopping by for wine and conversation, comfort foods and lovely warm things. I've been surviving by complaning and eating bags of chips. I think I need to embrace my inner Scandinavian and get me some Hygge to coast through the last couple months of winter with ease and tranquility.

@stranger #friend

When my friend Beth asked me what the hell Twitter was, I gave her a really dumb answer, "It's whatever you want it to be" I said, irritating her and myself.  And while that's true, it's so not helpful to someone trying to grasp the sense of the micro-blogging phenom.

Twitter asks one simple question, "What Are You Doing?" and for the first six months after I signed up I answered that question rather dully. 

Andrea is:
at brunch
in New York
watching The Hills
listening to The Hold Steady

Then one day I was getting a pedicure and I couldn't decide which color to choose. Total fashion emergency.  I texted my sister, but she wasn't writing me back. (Angie!) So, I sent a tweet asking my followers if people were still painting their toes black and within minutes had several people telling me "absolutely not!" Thank goodness I asked.

Suddenly I realized I had 23 new best friends (that's how many people were following me at the time) to help me make major life decisions. Totally awesome.

I have a lot of great real-life friends.  They're creative, stylish, smart and brilliantly funny, but they're not always available.  More importantly, they probably wouldn't be my friends if I was constantly texting them asking stupid questions and telling them how many calories I did or did not consume in a day.

omg. I'm at 3200 calories. someone please tell me not to eat this second bowl of ice cream? #skinny

My "friends" on Twitter, however, can easily delete me or mute me if they start thinking I'm a total drag and losing a follower would'nt make me hate myself quite like my best friend telling me to shut-up would.

So what is Twitter?  For me it's a place to connect. A place to go when you want to talk about #oscar dresses all night while your friends are sleeping or out having a real life. It's a place to follow social media freaks who get all the news first, fashionistas, smart moms and people who just make me laugh. It's a place to go if you never feel like shutting-up.

Oh, yes, Fancy Touch Screen Phone. You will be mine.

I've been lusting after the iphone for quite some time now. I know all about the awesome, amazing things it can do and while I know it won't change my life, I know it's going to totally change my life. For example, it has a GPS that will actually tell you where you are.  A much needed feature for someone who often wonders where the hell she is.

The problem is that I have a perfectly functioning BlackBerry that will not go away.  I've had it for three long years.  Longer than I've ever held on to any phone.  Right?  Most phones I have for two seconds. I was constantly losing them or dropping them in the toilet, but this beast will not die. It's crashed to the ground a million times.  It's sailed across the ice on a frozen lake.  I've tried accidentally running it over and I've tried losing it in restaurants.  Last week our server found it under the table after we'd left, no doubt because he had to sweep up the enormous amount of pizza bits that Henry had dropped to the floor.  He came running out with it yelling, "Ma'am you forgot your phone."  I told Henry to run, but we couldn't lose him.  I got my phone back.

Finally, the battery started dying.  An easy fix, sure, but why invest in a new battery for a phone that can't possibly be in my life for much longer?  I carefully complained about my problem, trying not to sound too eager about the prospect of a new iphone and a lovely, well-meaning person came home with two smuggled batteries for my Blackberry.  It's like brand new again.

I may have to hire a hit man.

Fresh Air Fund Needs Counselors for Summer 2009!

When I was a little girl at sleep-away camp I absolutely idolized my counselors.  I thought they were the coolest girls in the world, with the best clothes and the warmest hugs when I was feeling homesick.

Sadly, I missed my chance to be an awesome camp counselor, but if you are going to be 18 years old by June 20th and love to work with children, you have the opportunity to experience the joy of working at a summer camp.

The Fresh Air Fund is currently accepting applications for Camp Staff for Summer 2009. 

They're looking for counselors and program staff for all five of their summer camps - but places fill fast, so get your application in today.

Doldrums

Just so you know...I'm still alive.

And I'm thrilled about our new President.

And I'm thrilled that no one found the pacifier.  The pacifier is DEAD TO US.

And also, I'm totally depressed and have this weirdo obsession with buying new pajamas to make myself feel better and my latest pjs are totally awesome so I'll probably feel fantastic really soon.

"WHATEVER" "That's what yer say when you don't care"

Gross

Nick opened a bottle of wine and I was making a list of the sushi I wanted to have delivered.  We were going to celebrate the end of the Christmas holiday and watch a movie.  There was a knock on our door, but it wasn't the delivery man, it was the stomach flu.  Suddenly raw fish didn't sound so good and within an hour we were both laid out.  Thankfully we have three bathrooms.  One for each us and one for our horrified house guest who quickly made new plans.

I remember lying on the bathroom floor wondering what would happen if Henry too became ill. It would have been a complete nightmare.  These plagues are only supposed to attack one person at a time, no?  I would have had to phone for help and even though I have many friends in Minneapolis, I can't imagine who would have responded to that call. Now on my to-do list is to find an emergency nurse service and program the number into my cell phone.  Another example of how I'm not cut out to care for others.

Today we rest and recuperate.  Merry Christmas everyone!

TIMBER!!!

The greatest tragedy of having your Christmas Tree fall over at five o'clock in the morning isn't that your grandmother's antique glass bells are all smashed to smithereens or that the tree is now tethered to the banister with a rope.  The tragedy is that you and your four-year-old are awake at this ungodly hour and the prospects for a nap are not looking good.

Really, I'm totally bummed. I'm not a sentimental person and tchotchkes have no place in my house, but I sure did love my glass Christmas Ornaments. 

Hallefrickenlujah

Can you find me in this picture?  Obama had just been elected President of the United States and I'm gasping with my hand over my mouth.  The tears of joy came next.  Extra points if you can spot Nick celebrating with a fist pump.

More Celebrating

This wasn't a victory for liberals, but for all of America. 

Merry Christmas or something

I don't know what I'm going to do with myself after today.  I've spent the last three months reading political blogs and staring at polls.  There will surely be some kind of withdrawal.  Delirium tremors and sweating as I search for something else to focus on. 

It's a highly charged day and it feels as though it took forever to get here.  I'll be watching the election results unfold at a hotel downtown in the very same suite where Obama asked Joe Biden to be his running mate. I'll be celebrating as we elect a new President who will undue the damage that has been done to our country.

Vote your hopes, Not your fears

Happy Election Day!