On parenting an infant

You know you have an infant when you're relieved the wetness on your leg is just pee and not something stinkier. "I don't need to wash this-- it's just pee."

What's in a name?

With about three months left to go, Vince and I have just started the hardcore negotiations on a name for this baby. As if we're not already prone to over-prepare for and over-analyze every possible aspect of this child's future, a textbook on the significance of names showed up on our doorstep last week from Allison. According to this book, the unique combination of consonants in your name can determine everything from your success in relationships to your potential earning power.

I can already see how this book is going to change the dynamics of our heated naming discussions: "Let's see, it looks like for the highest possible probability of all the character traits we've cross-tabulated, we'll have to name her Jameriquoi."

"I like that it ends in a vowel but how is a five-year-old going to put that on her kindergarten assignments... how 'bout Scardale for a middle name since apparently that combines tendencies toward both creativity and independence..."

"I like Anne for a middle name."

"Annes have a notoriously low rating on the power quotient; do you want our baby to be underconfident?..."

In all seriousness, Vince and I are both fairly anti-trendy when it comes to names. As Vince's brother Erich so appropriately commented, I tend toward any name that could have a "Kennedy" behind it and Vince favors the queens of England. There's classic and then there's classic. I've heard people say you agonize over the first one's name and basically let the hairdresser, grocery clerk, older siblings, etc. name the rest.

Ode to Allison on her birthday

A is for the bad-ass Attitude-- or should we call it "Allie-tude"?-- you know what I'm talkin' bout.

L is for the Loyalty of her friendship; her gaggle of wild friends will attest that she is no deserter. L is also for the Losers who, for whatever reason, miss out on getting to know her. [I need an Ace Ventura "Loser" soundclip here].

L is for the "Longsuffering which produces character, and character, hope." (according to Rom. 5:3-4). Allie, can you testify to any longsuffering? No? Allison's character and integrity are not of the untested variety, but hard-won jewels of her personality.

I is for Allie's Intelligence. It's fortunate for us that her dead-on analysis is most-often tempered by wisdom. She could really push your buttons if she wanted to.

S is for Allie's Sisters! Where would Allison be without us-- really! Can you imagine her as an only child? No! Who would she pick on?

O is for Allie's Ornery-ness, as Granddad Allison would say (that's right, Allison's name is the legacy of my mom's whole clan). That almost accurately describes Allison's trouble-making and pretty hilarious, IMHO, sense of humor.

N is for Allie's warm and personable Nature. This is a mixed blessing, I'm sure, since it draws all of us wackos to her as well.

Happy birthday, Allison! I'm sure I'm speaking for all of us when I say we love you and are incredibly grateful you were born this day 35 years ago. (Just kidding! She's only 28-- a baby still!)

Postcard from the Burbs

Vince and I were reflecting on this past week, which we both took off for vacation, and concluded it was in our list of top five vacation weeks ever. This is no small praise considering our shared love of travel and not working. And especially considering we went exactly nowhere. That's right, our week spent at home rated higher than last year's trip to Cancun. Why?

That's what we were trying to figure out. I know this is really self-indulgent but, hey, I'm 5 months pregnant-- I can do whatever I want (hormones really are the next best excuse after old-age senility-- think about it). Here are some self-identified highlights of our week together at home in suburban Philadelphia...

- Seeing our squirming baby on the ultrasound monitor.
Bonus: Vince asking the ultrasound tech if this baby is abnormally large, as he's been predicting.

- Entertaining friends accompanied by our new grill and outdoor dining set.
Bonus: Vince continuing to refer to the "giant, screaming baby" against all evidence to the contrary.

- Water canon war with Beck, Meg and Vince's dad in the pool on July 4th.
Bonus: Rebecca's concern over Bill the Duck's recent cardiac surgery (too many Bills in our family).

- Somewhat larger than expected backyard fireworks display courtesy of Vince and his dad.
Bonus: Next day, across-the-street neighbor complaining to Vince about the people behind us shooting off fireworks ("yeah, we might have heard those...").

- Delivering a draft of my final grad requirement to Drexel after slacking for a quarter.
Bonus: Visiting my old stock exchange coworkers-- and then being able to leave.

- Gorgeous Friday lounging in the pool with Allison, while Vince teaches 3-year-old Jonny to use a water canon.
Bonus: Jonny repeatedly proclaiming his goal of defending Allison specifically, while he intermittenly sprayed us with his bad aim.

- Showing up to what must have been the over-40 showing of the Devil Wears Prada with Allison (not that there's anything wrong with that...).
Bonus: 40-year old woman loudly testing her cell phone etiquette during the previews; "I'm watching a movie; I'll have to call you back!"

- Our cutest cats ever showing off for Aunt Lee Anne and Bill (not the duck), who came down from NY with free furniture.
Bonus: Our cute cats not puking or peeing anywhere off-limits this week.

We also did a lot of work on the house this week ("we," meaning Vince). But checking off items from one's (Vince's) to-do list can also be refreshing in it's way. (More refreshment for you this weekend, honey!) ;)

Hope y'all had good weeks too (as Allison would say, with her deep Southern accent).

Do What Tastes Right

I just saw the best real-life commercial for Wendy's ever: There's a Wendy's and a McDonald's within a block of each other on the crowded main street of the town where I work. A huge McDonald's tractor trailer with McDonalds food art labeled something like "What Fuels Us" pulls up and parks on the shoulder directly in front of the Wendy's. Ten minutes later, driver walks back to the rig with a huge Wendy's beverage and to-go bag. I kept looking around for the camera crew.

I guess, like for all of us, a job is a poor indication of actual preference. Maybe the mailman actually prefers FedEx for personal messages or worse, email. Maybe your Starbucks barista hits Dunkin Donuts in her off-hours. Although I'm in web marketing, maybe in my personal time I find joy in marking all of the newsletters I no longer want to be subscribed to as SPAM. Maybe, although Allison uses rigorous methodology to solve problems at work, she prefers to use her high-speed karate kick to solve problems at home. Egads, it's a mad, mad world.

This boot was made for walkin'...

I think we can all agree that Mondays are bad but I hereby submit that the Tuesday after a three-day weekend is, like, exponentially worse.

Case in point:
I head to the gym for some quick exercise before work every morning and always pack my gym bag with work clothes the night before. I realized this system has some inherent flaws when I pulled two very different brown boots out of my bag this morning. Dang! One shiny and pointed with a higher heel, the other dull and round for kicking-around in. And they're both lefties. What to do?

I could not go back home; I would be over an hour late for work. I thought about running to Payless for some sandals, but-- hello-- my toes are not ready to be seen by the rest of the world yet. So the real decision became which boot to wear on the right foot. The high-heeled one on the right left me off-balance through the parking lot so I switched 'em right after I got to my desk-- and have not left since. This is actually the second time I've done this. Stupid but better than forgetting underwear.

Notes to self: 1. Investigate better ways to store shoes other than dumping them in the dark bowels of your closet. 2. Consider stowing a pair of emergency work shoes in your trunk. 3. Is the exercise really worth it?

I didn't even drink this weekend (not allowed for pregnant women!).

New addition

If you were trying to guilt at least one of us into a post, it worked...

I'll share my big news: Vince and I just ordered up matching phones today. That's right, no more 8 hours of battery-life, 1/2 hour of talk-time phooey for me. The new phones, which supposedly arrive Friday, have text-messaging, online chat, mp3 player, camera and a nifty fold-out qwerty keyboard to boot.

How many of you guys can receive picture and video mail? Let me know 'cause I'm already thinking about some photos I want to send... as is Vince. Allison, do you think we'll have reception in crazy Manheim, PA? 'Cause I'm thinking we'll need to clue Beck and Meg in on the wild camping & campfire dancing action this weekend.

Don't forget the wine cork thingy this time.

And I live in a very Irish Catholic neighborhood

Urgent whisper from a white-haired gentleman in the grocery line next to mine:
"Did you hear about the Pope!?"

Me, smiling, concerned:
"No."

White-haired gentleman:
"They're saying he caught the bird flu from one of the Cardinals..."

Ba-DUMP-dah

I am telling you, I have never seen an older guy so pleased with himself. It was too funny. I wish every day held an experience like that one.

Maybe Megan will tell you the one about the Hokey Pokey guy...

Orange Tabbies

Vince and I entered the wonderful world of pet ownership last Sunday. Courtesy of Dr. Val, we received two orange tabbies not quite a year old yet-- brothers-- you can tell by how much they hang out together and harass each other.

Nutter is the one with the Hitler mustache, which gave rise to his other name, and Chewy is the one that chews on everything. Notice how Nutter has a real bed and Chewy has a cardboard box-- who is the favored child here? As I type this, Nutter is actually napping between me and the back of my chair since I keep shooing him away from my keyboard, which has never been more cat-hairy.

Birthday Dinner

Rebecca and Megan took me out to a very generous and super-tasty dinner at the White Dog Cafe for my birthday last night-- never mind that my brithday was the first of the month-- we are busy people! We must have had a great time-- pictures never lie. The lower right-hand photo is where Rebecca is inadvertantly topping off her water with a little beer. Nothing like beer-flavored water to end a great meal. Despite how this may look, the three of us only partook in one small pitcher. Thanks for a great time, guys!

Death Dealer Apprehended

Thanks, Allison!
I bet you're starting to regret that collaborative thing now, huh? ; )

Rockstar karaoke party report

I've always enjoyed my birthdays and so this last Saturday marked the start of my annual week-long Stephapalooza birthday celebration. Saturday night we partied like rockstars, karaokeing and dance-dance-revolutioning till the break of dawn-- or, okay, 12:30. Same difference for the nearing-30.

We didn't get too crazy with the decor, choosing to focus more energy on the food, which I, of course, ended up with way too much of. I went as a non-drugged out, non-surgically enhanced Courtney Love and fellow birthday girl, Katie, went with a Cindy Lauper-look. Vince was supposed to be a rapper but the only bling he could find was a vampire cross-type thing. Also, check out the great curtains in the background of all the photos (more to come on this).

Other events scheduled for this year's Stephapalooza week include morning donuts, lunch with coworker buddies, dinner with girlfriends and lots of Starbucks coffee, rounded out by a much-anticipated weekend visit from Allison herself!

Vince is such a stud.

I don't know what it is, but I love catching random people check other people out in public places. Whether attracted, admiring, disgusted or intrigued, people are always sizing other people up-- I'm pretty sure we all do it-- and some do it in more obvious ways than others. When I happen to catch these mostly discrete glances and nods and elbows and whispers, I feel like I'm in on the secret. Or maybe I just like to secretly mock people.

I've found the best watching-people-watch-people opportunities occur walking up and down the sidewalk in the city at lunchtime or sitting in a park like Rittenhouse Square or also at your local mall, gym or beach (you know, "down the shore"). Occasionally though, I walk into a totally random occurence that leaves me particularly tickled.

A couple weekends ago, Vince and I were over at his folks house in Jersey and had split up to scour the local grocery store for sugar-free cake mix (which doesn't actually exist, to my knowledge). I turned the corner and noticed a couple middle-aged ladies checking out someone walking away from them down the aisle. The one lady pointed down the aisle, snickered to the other and started hunching her shoulders up and making, like, Tim Allen grunting noises. Bemused, I looked down the aisle, expecting to see some studly meat-head, and saw Vince!

I couldn't resist: "That's my husband!" I yelled at them in mock offense.
Well, then they started cracking up:
"AHAHAHAHA!"
"We were just... admiring him!"
"Um, don't tell him we were talking about him!" they yelled after me as I chased Vince down the aisle. Yeah, fat chance. Hee, hee-- funny stuff.

On coffee.

I have two competing ambitions coming into the year 2006. One is to stick to a budget and the other is to consume the best coffee that I can reasonably get my hands on.

Problem: Exceptionally good coffee is often ridiculously priced. Even kind-of good coffee is often overpriced. (One exception was La Colombe on 19th & Walnut, which had much better coffee at a quarter cheaper than Starbucks.)

Solution #1: Free coffee in the break room. Although functional, this just does not cut it from a taste perspective. It's sad when even a freshly brewed pot tastes like burnt plastic.

Solution #2: Bring coffee from home. This is functional, tasty, but sometimes just lukewarm by the time I get it to work. Plus, this morning I got the coffee all prepped then left it on the #@%$ counter at home-- this has happened more than once and, as you can imagine, is very upsetting.

Solution #3: Starbucks gift cards. I was the lucky recipient of, not one, but two Starbucks gift cards this Christmas. Good, tasty coffee with bonus feel-good marketing vibes for free-- perfect! I was planning to stretch these out by indulging only in tall coffees, but I can't seem to keep my hands off the peppermint mochas and frappuccinos. Now that they've got this cinnamon dolce latte thing coming out, it seems solution #3 will be short-lived.

Should I lower my standards? Or just break it off completely and go to Lipton mid-February?

January Project: Rockstar-Karaoke Birthday Bash

Vince and I just volunteered to host a themed birthday party this month celebrating two hot chickitas nearing the big three-O. The theme started out somewhere around purple bunnies and ended up at rockstar karaoke. For real.

Here's where we need help: developing the theme. So far, we've got handbill-style invitations with various rockstars on them, a karaoke DJ lined up (I think) and a half-furnished house with no curtains (and we've already had help to get this far). The invitations specify that rockstar clothing and accessories are required.

The invitees are a creative group up for almost anything, possibly not unlike yourselves (in fact, some of you will be receiving invites-- you know who you are). Where else can we go with this? Any ideas?

The only idea for food we've had so far is a bowl of green M&Ms. Also, I'm trying to figure out what kind of a backdrop we need for the karaoke singers to make it really, like, rockstar.

Do keep in mind we have a very limited budget. Trying to own a house has seriously quashed our rockstar lifestyle.

---------------
How to turn this post into a nearing-30 drinking game: Drink every time you see the word "rockstar." Hydrate when you see "karaoke."

How 'bout "Score more chicks in 2006"?

My New Year's resolution is to get curtains for our house. Vince and I had dinner at our backyard neighbors' house on Thursday and realized, after a tour of their place, that you could see right into almost every room of our house from there. Maybe that's why they invited us over. Hee...

Allison, you think plaid is bad-- check these out... I'm thinking tab-top panels and sheers are the way to go. We might just end up at Ikea.