This post is dedicated to my mother. This picture was taken with the digital camera that she and my stepfather gave me as a gift. It was on a random weekend afternoon, when we were sharing some wine at Otto. Every single time I show people this picture (and I know she won’t believe me, but it’s true), they comment on how beautiful she is. I’d have to agree.
Now, enough about her. Back to ME! (just kidding, mom!)
* A tribute to the Almodóvar film of the same name.
After Thanksgiving at my Mom’s, I traveled to Virginia to meet my Dad, stepmom, brother and sister at a farmhouse in the Shenandoah Valley. The farmhouse belongs to friends of the family from back in the day when we lived in Washington D.C. — they have a set of twins a month younger than my brother and sister, and a daughter a year older than the twins. We have kept in touch over the years, and decided to join them for a second Thanksgiving. We arrived late Friday night, after some flight delays and hideous weather, and proceeded to cook the first of the weekend feasts — the Maine contingent had brought lobsters (I brought NYC bagels for the next morning). When we finally got settled, we all sat down to our lobster dinner, with plenty of wine to go around. Somehow, during the course of the conversation, we started talking about the internet, discussing things like Friendster, and how it served as a way for people in our generation to meet new people (I am in the process of adding Stephanie, Josh, and Jon to my “friends” list). I mentioned, without really thinking, that I had just met someone through my weblog. “Your what?” Oops. So now they know — it’s really no big deal. There’s nothing here that’s particularly scandalous or embarrasing (at least I don’t think so). Yet.
So — to the family and friends of the family who are now reading my blog for the first time — Welcome! (Gulp.)
The weekend was centered around family (10 people in the two families), friends (who joined us for the feasts — I think there were 25-30 people for the second Thanksgiving), and, of course, food. One of the culinary highlights for the weekend, in my opinion, was Kim’s pumpkin cheesecake with bourbon whipped cream (from Cooks’ Illustrated). Kim subsituted crushed peanut butter cookies for the graham crackers in the crust. Yum. The other culinary highlight, or more accurately, fascination, for me was learning about something called “hotdish.” For those of you, like me, who were unfamiliar with the term “hotdish,” it seems to be a Midwestern (Minnesotan?) term for anything that you throw into a casserole and bake. A quick google search for hotdish led me to my favorite definition: Hotdish: 1) midwestern colloquialism for a hot entree that is similar to a French casserole except that it is often inedible; 2) the bastard offspring of canned Cream of Mushroom soup.
As those of you at the farm this weekend recall, I spent a great deal of time snapping photos. Here’s a quick preview, but you can find the rest of them here.
After Thanksgiving at my Mom’s, I traveled to Virginia to meet my Dad, stepmom, brother and sister at a farmhouse in the Shenandoah Valley. The farmhouse belongs to friends of the family from back in the day when we lived in Washington D.C. — they have a set of twins a month younger than my brother and sister, and a daughter a year older than the twins. We have kept in touch over the years, and decided to join them for a second Thanksgiving. We arrived late Friday night, after some flight delays and hideous weather, and proceeded to cook the first of the weekend feasts — the Maine contingent had brought lobsters (I brought NYC bagels for the next morning). When we finally got settled, we all sat down to our lobster dinner, with plenty of wine to go around. Somehow, during the course of the conversation, we started talking about the internet, discussing things like Friendster, and how it served as a way for people in our generation to meet new people (I am in the process of adding Stephanie, Josh, and Jon to my “friends” list). I mentioned, without really thinking, that I had just met someone through my weblog. “Your what?” Oops. So now they know — it’s really no big deal. There’s nothing here that’s particularly scandalous or embarrasing (at least I don’t think so). Yet.
So — to the family and friends of the family who are now reading my blog for the first time — Welcome! (Gulp.)
The weekend was centered around family (10 people in the two families), friends (who joined us for the feasts — I think there were 25-30 people for the second Thanksgiving), and, of course, food. One of the culinary highlights for the weekend, in my opinion, was Kim’s pumpkin cheesecake with bourbon whipped cream (from Cooks’ Illustrated). Kim subsituted crushed peanut butter cookies for the graham crackers in the crust. Yum. The other culinary highlight, or more accurately, fascination, for me was learning about something called “hotdish.” For those of you, like me, who were unfamiliar with the term “hotdish,” it seems to be a Midwestern (Minnesotan?) term for anything that you throw into a casserole and bake. A quick google search for hotdish led me to my favorite definition: Hotdish: 1) midwestern colloquialism for a hot entree that is similar to a French casserole except that it is often inedible; 2) the bastard offspring of canned Cream of Mushroom soup.
As those of you at the farm this weekend recall, I spent a great deal of time snapping photos. Here’s a quick preview, but you can find the rest of them here.
I went to the gym today with a friend of mine for a post-Thanksgiving spin class (thank God!). She asked if I had updated my blog. “Not since before Thanksgiving,” I replied. “Did you see the article in the Style section this weekend?” she asked. “No.” “It’s about taking a break from the whole dating scene.” Oh yeah. I knew I had to rush home and read it.
I felt like I was a step ahead of the trend described in the article. On of the subjects realized that with the time she spent on internet dating, she could start her own small business. So she did. I recently made a similar declaration — I’m just going to do the best I can and live my life. No more internet dating, no more speed dating, no more obsessing about being set up by my friends (who never produced anyway — except for my sister). No small business, either, but at least I have made a conscious decision to embrace my singledom. I am not giving up on finding someone with whom to spend my life, but I’m not making it the focus of my life. Besides, if I’m not happy on my own, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to be happy with someone else.
So far, I’ve been very happy with my decision. It’s amazing what can sprout up organically. Now — time to check out the website mentioned in the article: Itsokaytobesingle.com. I’ll let you know how it turns out.
I went to the gym today with a friend of mine for a post-Thanksgiving spin class (thank God!). She asked if I had updated my blog. “Not since before Thanksgiving,” I replied. “Did you see the article in the Style section this weekend?” she asked. “No.” “It’s about taking a break from the whole dating scene.” Oh yeah. I knew I had to rush home and read it.
I felt like I was a step ahead of the trend described in the article. On of the subjects realized that with the time she spent on internet dating, she could start her own small business. So she did. I recently made a similar declaration — I’m just going to do the best I can and live my life. No more internet dating, no more speed dating, no more obsessing about being set up by my friends (who never produced anyway — except for my sister). No small business, either, but at least I have made a conscious decision to embrace my singledom. I am not giving up on finding someone with whom to spend my life, but I’m not making it the focus of my life. Besides, if I’m not happy on my own, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to be happy with someone else.
So far, I’ve been very happy with my decision. It’s amazing what can sprout up organically. Now — time to check out the website mentioned in the article: Itsokaytobesingle.com. I’ll let you know how it turns out.
Well, at least the latest New York Times piece on online dating, Romance 2.0, is a bit more on the mark than the last one I read. In fact, in the magazine format, there is a quote highlighted that pretty much sums up my opinion on the matter. “But if flirting in the real world consists of no-strings banter between two people who feel a mutual attraction, online flirtation is its inverse — it happens in the presence of everything but physical attraction. Two people who have read each other’s profiles may know each other’s hobbies, income, turn-ons, religious affiliations, political views and whether or not they want children, but they have no idea whether the frisson these avatars of themselves manage to whip up in the void will translate into life.” As I’ve said, no sparks = no sparks, no matter where you meet the person, and at least offline, there is usually some sort of spark that gets a chance meeting to move to the next step.
For now, despite the techno-dork that I’ve become, I’m sticking to the offline, old-fashioned, spark-filled dating. Seems to be working for me at the moment.
I would love to get some reader feedback on this one. As a single woman dating in New York, I have noticed a trend among my peers. Until someone actually moves up to the status of “boyfriend,” (and sometimes even after that) he tends to get dubbed with a nickname. This way, your friends don’t have to be bothered learning someone’s name until they’re sure he’ll be around for a significant period of time, and you can still keep them filled in on the details of your social life. Sometimes these nicknames focus on someone’s job (“the architect,” “the doctor”), or how you met them (“internet boy,” “dinner party guy”), or where they live (“DC guy,” “East Village guy”).
So my question, dear readers, is — what are some of your/your friends’ top nicknames for guys you’ve dated or been interested in? Here are some of my favorites (they are not all guys I’ve dated personally — some are from friends):
Please chime in — I’m looking forward to hearing your responses! (And please note — this is open to men and nicknames that they may have for women they’ve dated, too. I don’t think the phenomenon is gender-specific.)
UPDATE: people are starting to chime in — here are some reader submissions, and I will continue to add to this list. Thank you for your contributions and feedback!
I would love to get some reader feedback on this one. As a single woman dating in New York, I have noticed a trend among my peers. Until someone actually moves up to the status of “boyfriend,” (and sometimes even after that) he tends to get dubbed with a nickname. This way, your friends don’t have to be bothered learning someone’s name until they’re sure he’ll be around for a significant period of time, and you can still keep them filled in on the details of your social life. Sometimes these nicknames focus on someone’s job (“the architect,” “the doctor”), or how you met them (“internet boy,” “dinner party guy”), or where they live (“DC guy,” “East Village guy”).
So my question, dear readers, is — what are some of your/your friends’ top nicknames for guys you’ve dated or been interested in? Here are some of my favorites (they are not all guys I’ve dated personally — some are from friends):
Please chime in — I’m looking forward to hearing your responses! (And please note — this is open to men and nicknames that they may have for women they’ve dated, too. I don’t think the phenomenon is gender-specific.)
UPDATE: people are starting to chime in — here are some reader submissions, and I will continue to add to this list. Thank you for your contributions and feedback!
And to think that during high school, I made fun of my parents for listening to NPR. I groaned every time they tuned the car radio in to WNYC — it was soooo boooooring. Now that I’m an avid listener myself (well, maybe not avid, but I listen to Morning Edition and the BBC World Service every morning, and on weekends, I listen to Car Talk if I’m awake), and a first time donor (only $15, but it was during one of those times where my donation was tripled due to the generosity of some major philanthropist or another), I have just read that this is the key to a successful dating life! I got this post about NPR and its role in the ritual of mating and dating via Gawker, and it made me laugh out loud.
For both the male and the female, listening to NPR sends a signal to a prospective mate: “Despite my current income, in a few years I will have a house in a neighborhood with good public schools, and I will drive a Volvo stationwagon.” Women are sending an additional signal: “I consider myself smart and sophisticated and if I get pregnant, I will have an abortion. I might consider a three-way.” Men signal back: “I won’t try to stop you from getting an abortion, but I’m not afraid to cry if you do. I don’t like guns, but I’m manly enough to camp and mountain-bike. I just love nature! A three-way sounds intriguing.”
Note to those interested — the most recent guy on the radar screen does, in fact, listen to NPR.
And to think that during high school, I made fun of my parents for listening to NPR. I groaned every time they tuned the car radio in to WNYC — it was soooo boooooring. Now that I’m an avid listener myself (well, maybe not avid, but I listen to Morning Edition and the BBC World Service every morning, and on weekends, I listen to Car Talk if I’m awake), and a first time donor (only $15, but it was during one of those times where my donation was tripled due to the generosity of some major philanthropist or another), I have just read that this is the key to a successful dating life! I got this post about NPR and its role in the ritual of mating and dating via Gawker, and it made me laugh out loud.
For both the male and the female, listening to NPR sends a signal to a prospective mate: “Despite my current income, in a few years I will have a house in a neighborhood with good public schools, and I will drive a Volvo stationwagon.” Women are sending an additional signal: “I consider myself smart and sophisticated and if I get pregnant, I will have an abortion. I might consider a three-way.” Men signal back: “I won’t try to stop you from getting an abortion, but I’m not afraid to cry if you do. I don’t like guns, but I’m manly enough to camp and mountain-bike. I just love nature! A three-way sounds intriguing.”
Note to those interested — the most recent guy on the radar screen does, in fact, listen to NPR.
