Wedding wishes from afar

In just a few hours, two of our good friends will be tying the knot in Jamaica. It's a bittersweet time because while we're absolutely thrilled for them, we're also sad because we can't be there to share their special day.

I like to take some credit for introducing the happy couple. After all, I was the one who convinced her to join my softball team that year and as luck would have it, he also came aboard that season. I could see the sparks starting to fly early on and the proposal came three years later.

When we learned of the wedding plans, we tried to figure out a way to be there for the wedding but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, we'll celebrate their vows from 1800 miles away.

So raise a glass with me today at 10:30 (or perhaps a cup of coffee; it is an early wedding) and let's toast the wonderful couple. Here's to your dream wedding and the perfect life together.

And let's hope they have those wedding pictures and DVD back soon.

2006: A weight odyssey

We're on the cusp of a new year and in my world that can only mean one thing: diet season.

Now don't confuse this with Yom Kippur, the official start of the Jewish diet season. While that is also a celebration of a new year, it is the destined-to-fail diet. You start off the day so hopeful. "Look, I can fast. It's no big deal," you say, but by dinnertime you're stuffing your face again. By the next day it's back to McDonald's.

The new year as stipulated by the Gregorian calendar has historically been a more successful diet season for me. First, with the big food holidays (Halloween, Thanksgiving, my birthday, and Chrismukkah) behind me, I'm already feeling like a fat pig. When your clothes don't fit, you're more motivated to stick with the program.

Societal pressures help too. Everyone on television is kind enough to remind you that it's time to get your fat ass to the gym, join that new health plan, try a new diet miracle, etc.

This year, I'm one step ahead of the game. I already have a gym membership. I also plan to return to Weight Watchers which can take credit for my 25-lb. weight loss in the beginning of 2001.

Of course I also face a few additional challenges this year as well. For instance, the secretary who sits just outside my office keeps a large M&M dispenser on her desk. The baked goods that my coworkers constantly bring into the office are going to be tough also.

But I can't make excuses this time. I've lost the weight before and I can do it again. I'm embracing my new mantra: Don't Feed Alisa. (This doesn't take effect until Jan. 3 so in the meantime, feed away!)

Beware the gift cards of December

Ah, tis the season for gift-giving and for a lot of us, that means gift card giving. Let's face it... they're easy and it's hard to go wrong. They seem to be the one thing that's good both to give and receive.

But to make sure your thoughtful gift doesn't turn into a lump of coal, you need to be a savvy consumer. At present, there aren't any laws in Maryland specifically aimed at gift cards and the retailers know this. Because of that, the gift cards you buy may have hidden fees and secret expiration dates. By the time great aunt Sadie goes to use her gift card at Victoria's Secret, there might not be enough left on the card for her ultrasmooth low-rise string bikini.

The General Assembly did, thankfully, address gift cards last year and passed some basic legislation on the matter. Still, that law doesn't take effect until July 2006, if at all. Retailers are expected to do some heavy lobbying this session to see to it that they don't have to abide by any rules at all.

Basically, the new law would make it so that the gift card cannot expire or charge fees in the first three years and requires certain disclosure should such conditions exist after that time.

Even in its current form, last session's legislation doesn't go far enough. For instance, the new law only applies to individual retailers and not mall gift cards. Similarly, gift card issued by banks or credit card companies are excluded from the new law.

One final thing to consider: You don't have much recourse if you buy a gift card or a gift certificate to a business that shuts down or files bankruptcy. If you charge the purchase you may be able to dispute the charge with your credit card company but otherwise, you're probably out of luck.

This information should not discourage you from buying gift cards because hell, we all love them. Instead, you just need to make sure you know what you're giving and getting. Happy shopping.

I'm a calendar girl

Every year around this time I'm faced with the same quandary: Do I keep last year's calendar?

And to complicate matters, my anal self actually has three separate calendars, each with its own purpose.

First I have my DayTimer. This is my portable calendar and I use it to keep track of everything from doctors' appointments to social engagements. (Unfortunately I tend to have more of the former than the latter.) It's my most thorough calendar and covers practically everything I've done in the past year. So while my nostalgic side questions whether throwing out my calendar means I'm disregarding history, my practical side says "No stupid, you don't have room to keep any more superfluous crap."

My second calendar is a desk calendar at work where I keep track of all that work-related stuff. At the end of each month, I tear off the page and stick it in a drawer. I often look back at these so keeping them makes sense.

Finally there's the wall calendar in my office. Now while I don't use this particular calendar for anything other than decorative purposes, I feel bad about getting rid of it at the end of the year. This year's calendar features 12 months worth of cute doggies, specifically chocolate labs, several of which look much like my beloved Buddy.

Now if each month's picture was a separate photograph, I would never get rid of them. I'd probably frame them and use them to decorate my office. So do I toss this chronicle of adorableness and just start anew, simply because the pictures happened to be subdivided by staples? Yeah, I guess I have to. (Fortunately, thanks to my awesome stepmother-in-law, 2006 will feature "Just Labs" as well.)

I have to wonder whether I'm the only one who struggles with this dilemma every year. Considering the fact that DayTimer sells special boxes to hold planner inserts from previous years, I have to figure that I'm not. In any case, I still haven't made any hard and fast decisions. Perhaps I'll put it off until next year.

And God help me if I decide I need a day-by-day desk calendar.

Empty chairs at empty tables

Call it morbid but I read the obituaries everyday. Actually, to be completely accurate, I scan the names in the death notices, looking for names that I recognize. (In newspaper terms, an obituary is an article written by a staff writer while the death notices are the list of names and subsequent information provided such as surviving family members, funeral arrangements, etc.)

Because Baltimore is such a small town, I usually see at least one or two familiar names a week. I don't necessarily know the person, but the departed could be related to someone I know.

But tomorrow when I carry on with my daily tradition I'll definitely see a name I recognize. One of the wonderful volunteers in my office passed away yesterday after a long battle with cancer. Despite the many bouts of cancer (he's been through it four times now), I don't think any of us realized his death would be so soon.

I work in a job where I am surrounded by dedicated volunteers, most of whom are senior citizens. So while this is the first time I am faced with the death of a volunteer I supervise, it definitely won't be the last.

Joe was a very special guy. He and I really connected because when we met, we both had been through cancer twice. I made him promise that because we were tied, we would both call it even and not get any more cancer. Within weeks of that conversation though Joe told me he had to go in for a colonoscopy. Sure enough, the doctors found colorectal cancer. Like I had done a year earlier, Joe went in for surgery.

The surgery itself went well but that was when the doctors started finding more tumors. He had tumors in his chest and his shoulders. All through his treatment, Joe kept me up-to-date on how he was doing and kept saying how he looked forward to returning to work.

When Joe's wife called this morning, I knew exactly what she was about to tell me. Just yesterday I put a Christmas card in the mail saying everyone at work was looking forward to his return. But instead of preparing for his return, we're now collecting money to donate in his memory to the American Cancer Society.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Cancer sucks.

On the wrong track once again

It's now been five days since Friday's "winter weather event" and as expected, the parking lot at the Owings Mills Metro Station remains a survival of the fittest scenario. (As I slipped on the ice today, I learned that I no longer fall into the category of fittest.)

You see rather than plow and/or salt the parking lot before the commuters arrived on Friday, our ever-thoughtful MTA decided it was better to wait until the lot was full of haphazardly parked vehicles, abandoned by their drivers who could only guess where the actual parking spaces exist. Apparently MTA believes that it's better to plow after the fact because how else could you condemn the vehicles to their own little ice forts?

(For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Baltimore subway, and that would be about 98% of people in the Baltimore area, it is not like the D.C. metro or the New York subway system where people travel with relative ease and comfort. In Baltimore, it's a one-line system from nowhere to nowhere, featuring homeless people, illegal street vendors hawking stolen soap, and the occasional commuter.)

But have no fear -- changes are coming! And by changes, I mean construction. According to notices posted at the station today, construction on a new parking garage is set to begin Dec. 26 and take about a year to complete. In MTA time, this means the structure should be finished sometime around March of 2074.

Please don't mistake this new project for care or concern over the subway riders. Rather, it's all a part of the massive development of the metro lot. (Remember when you could look across the horizon and see a whole mile away? Yeah, we'd better fix that.)

The subway lot project promises a mixed-use community center featuring a public library, two parking garages, community college space, high-end shops, and luxury condos. For some unexplained reason, the nearly-vacant mall a few feet away was not an appropriate space to develop such a fabulous display of developer heavy-handedness. We are in Baltimore County afterall, where it's better to build, build, build, rather than preserve or revitalize.

So while we live in an area where the mall couldn't support a Sears, Gap, Ann Taylor, Saks Fifth Avenue, Lord & Taylor, KB Toys, or Abercrombie & Fitch (and I could go on and on) we are now supposed to believe that people will suddenly decide flock to the region. I'd be happy if, in the alternative, they'd just make the trains run on time for my daily commute aboard the Homeless Express.

The last supper

Earlier this week the State of Maryland finally carried through with the execution of Wesley Baker, the man convicted of gunning down teacher Jane Tyson in front of her two young grandchildren in a mall parking lot. Baker became the fifth man put to death in Maryland since the U.S. Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976.

As with all state-sponsored executions (as opposed to the brutal and untimely execution of Ms. Tyson), the condemned is entitled to select a final meal. The Baltimore Sun reported that Baker's last meal consisted of breaded fish, pasta marinara, green beans, orange fruit punch, bread and milk.

I'm okay with the pasta. I'm not a big fan of fish but to each to his own. My problem comes with the green beans. When you've only got a few hours left on this earth, are calories and cholesterol really your top priority?

If I get to pick a last meal, there won't be any vegetables in site. There would, however, be something with cheese. It might be pizza or it might be a really good grilled cheese sandwich. Maybe a nice cheeseburger. French fries are also in order. And forget the Diet Coke. I'm drinking regular Coke this time. And keep the refills coming.

In fact, I don't know if I'd even want to bother with the whole meal part of things. I may just want to go straight for dessert. With my luck, I'd finish up my entree and not have any room left for dessert. How could my final meal not include chocolate of some sort? Even (or perhaps, especially) a dying soul has priorities. You know what? Let's just go with the chocolate buffet.

I invite you to ponder your last meal. What would you choose? Are you a green beans kinda person or would you prefer to join me in stuffing my face with a Cinnabon?

All is fair in love, war, and airplanes

Before all of the inevitable apologies and second-guessing, I need to get something off my chest: Air marshals have every right to shoot and kill someone who, particularly in or around an airplane, claims to have a bomb.

According to news reports, a man aboard a plane at the Miami airport yesterday told people he had a bomb and when air marshals began to follow him, he ran down the aisle screaming and flailing his arms. This isn't the Price is Right, people. You just can't act that way and expect to emerge unscathed.

Critics are already starting to say that the man's wife was behind him and trying to explain that he was bipolar and hadn't taken his medication. That makes no difference to me. A bipolar person off his meds is certainly capable of bringing a bomb onto the plane and you can't expect the authorities to step back and go looking for the Prozac.

In our post-911 world, things have changed. Like it or not, and despite what viewers of Airline may see, airports are not a place for jokes, instability, and threats. The air marshals did exactly what they should have done and should be commended, not criticized for their quick-thinking actions.

Welcome to the first official day of Alisa's birthday season

Ah, my birthday. Or more appropriately, my birth season.

Birthdays in my family are not just a day -- they're a series of events. The actual day I was born just serves as a general suggestion for when activities and festivities should take place. For instance tonight, Rich took me to dinner at Baldwin's Station where we were married. Tomorrow night is dinner with some friends, I'll have lunch with my coworkers on Thursday, and then Friday night is out to dinner with the family.

For this year's birthday season Rich bought me tickets to see Les Miserables in D.C. It's our favorite musical and we're so glad to get to see it again.

(Care to do some birthday shopping? Visit My Wishlist.)

Incidentally, in case you're wondering about the above picture, it's my supposed birthday cake. Rich has been threatening me all day about having birthday fruit for me. If you know me at all, or if you understand the concept of dessert in the least, it's fair to say fruit and dessert DO NOT go together. (I make a very limited exception for the following: jelly donuts, chocolate covered strawberries, and raspberry filling in cake.)

So after we returned from our wonderful dinner (I had the crabcakes; he had the beef tenderloin) he beckoned me downstairs to my birthday surprise... grapefruit.

Don't worry -- the real cake appears below. It was demolished within seconds. (Those that know me and dessert also know I don't bother to chew. I merely inhale.)

The C-word, two years later

Nothing reminds you that you're getting older quite like an inordinate amount of pain. In my case, to commemorate my 27th birthday, I somehow pulled a muscle in my back and I'm now walking around hunched over like my 90-year-old grandfather.

Of course things could be worse. I could be spending my birthday in a doctor's office. Oh, but wait, I will be. As some sort of twisted celebration of my original cancer diagnosis two years ago this week, I will be headed to the urologist's office tomorrow for a CT scan. (Of course this is better than hanging out with the gastroenterologist for a colonoscopy which I got to enjoy this time last year.)

On the plus side, I deal with all of these tests and procedures far better than my husband does. Last week Rich revealed to me that a little part of him dies every time I have to have another medical test. My father tells me to respond by saying, "Well, the tests are just to make sure that a little part of me isn't dying."

Still, I'm not entirely okay with the cancer thing. I talk about it a lot but only because it makes me feel better. Yes, I'm technically cancer-free, but somehow that doesn't calm me. There's something about the fact that my body is a veritable playground for cancer cells that tends to bother me. Every time I get an IV or have an MRI, CT scan, colonoscopy, or whatever else, I flash back to my diagnosis in December 2003 and subsequent diagnosis in April 2004. I have to wonder when (not whether) the cancer will come back and whether I'll be as lucky as I was the first two times around.

So once again we'll sit and wait for the test results, hoping it's good news that can be delivered over the phone as opposed to the early morning call from the doctor telling me I need to come in and talk. And just think... only six more months until my next colonoscopy!

Keep the Christ in Hannukah?

According to an article in today's Baltimore Sun, and as previously reported by somewhat more observant news operations, a group of Christians led by the Rev. Jerry Falwell are unhappy with the use of "holiday" as a replacement for "Christmas."

(Read the article here: Unhappy with 'holiday')

Specifically, it appears that some religious folks are upset that stores are more likely to wish you Happy Holidays or Season Greetings than a Merry Christmas. All it does, they argue, is minimize the importance of Jesus in the name of political correctness.

What this vocal group fails to realize, however, is that not everyone celebrates Christmas. In cities like Baltimore, for instance, some people choose to observe Chanukah (however you want to spell it), others go for Kwanzaa, and others still choose to avoid religious observation entirely. In other words, the First Amendment that gives you the right to celebrate your religion is the same First Amendment that allows others to worship (or not) as they choose.

But, instead of respecting the fact that retailers and others want to be welcoming to their customers too, this group of zealots is threatening boycotts and protests.

Retailers can't just focus on the Christians though. People who celebrate things other than Christmas are instrumental to profits at this time of year. Last week, Daniel Gross of Slate.com posed the question: "Can the Jews Save Christmas? Hanukkah is late this year. Will this help retailers?" Specifically, Gross discusses the slow start to the "Christmas" season and proposes that Hanukkah's late timing this year may bolster sales throughout the month. (In the interest of full disclosure, Gross does ultimately conclude that not even the Jews can save this shopping season.)

Simply put, not every town in America is like Jerry Falwell's backyard. Some even have large Jewish populations and, gasp, some of those Jews would rather hear Happy Holidays than Merry Christmas.

In addition to being more inclusive, "Happy Holidays" is just easier. It can include, if you so desire, days like Thanksgiving and New Year's too. After all, it is a holiday season and not just one day. Why make 17 different banners when you cover all your bases with a simple Happy Holidays?

So don't leave out Boxing Day, Festivus, and all the rest, just because they're not your first pick for celebrations. Keep the prayers in church and let the credit cards run free at Target.

Is it correct to correct?

At what point, when overhearing a conversation, is it right to butt in and correct someone? I suppose one can argue that when someone's life is at stake or something dangerous can happen, it's important enough to step in. For instance if I overhear someone saying, "Sure, you can wash those Valiums down with a bottle of whiskey. That's no problem," then it's time to step in. Or if they say "Heating those leftovers wrapped in foil in the microwave is the best way to prepare lunch," perhaps I should say something. (I wish someone had warned me about that earlier.)

But I was faced with a somewhat tougher conundrum today while in the waiting room of the doctor's office.

Someone decides to talk politics with the patient-in-waiting next to them. I have no idea what prompted the conversation between the two strangers but I listened across the room as the chat wore on. The woman, elderly and impatient, mentioned how she wished that Bill Clinton could be president again. The man she was talking to assured her it was possible. "You just have to have a certain amount of time in between," he said. "He's been out eight years so he can run again."

My political science major ears were crippled in pain. Haven't you heard of the 22nd amendment? What makes matters worse is that apparently this gentleman had heard of it. He knew enough to say that after FDR's presidency, the law was changed to say that a president couldn't serve more than two terms. And still, he's envisioning Bill Clinton as our next president.

That is just wrong on so many levels. But I sat quietly, head buried in People magazine, and simply shook my head. For all anyone knew, I was simply saddened over the Nick and Jessica break-up. But in reality, I'm far more upset at the ignorance.

Barenaked fun

Rich and I went to see the Barenaked Ladies in concert at the Meyerhoff tonight. As always, they were amazing! Best of all, we had wonderful (aisle) seats just a few rows back from the stage, enabling me to take a few pictures that actually turned out. (That is, a few good pictures when the 8-foot tall hulk of a man three rows ahead didn't block everybody's field of vision.)

Steve Page and Ed Robertson, the lead singers, even hung out in the lobby before the concert to sign autographs. I love those guys. This was my seventh BNL concert and I can't wait for the next one. Good thing they've been working on a new album... they'll need to tour to properly pimp it.

A new group called the Leevees opened for BNL. The Leevees played some of their original Chanukah music. It's about time Chanukah gets it act together and has some real music. Check out their cd, Hanukkah Rocks. You heard it here first folks.

The cure for Coach envy

I'm a simple girl. Practical. Frugal. I don't need anything fancy. In fact, I've always mocked people who insist on designer labels when another brand is just as good.

And yet I found myself with Coach envy. Perhaps it's because I spent the weekend with a group of girls who all were Coach adorned, or maybe it's that weekend my co-workers forced me to go to the Coach outlet in Rehoboth. Perhaps I've just been spending too much time on BCG listening to all this purse talk. In any case, I wanted one and I'm ashamed.

Now what do I do? Do I give into my desires and splurge on something I may later regret? Or do I hold my ground and pretend I'll be happy with my Target bag? Hardly.

Instead, I came up with a plan. I will buy a Coach bag if, and only if, I can get a really good deal. I'll check the outlets and eBay. See if I get a good deal, then it's not like I'm a hypocrite. It's just that I'm taking advantage of a bargain and nobody could blame me for that, right?

Two weekend treks later, I have my Coach bag and I'm very satisfied. It was on a big sale and cost less than half of its original price. It's even cheaper than I could have gotten it for on eBay. Heck, they practically paid me to take if off their hands... their nicely-manicured, well-adorned, hands.

Now I just need a wallet to match...

Black Friday 2005

How do you measure success on Black Friday? For some, it’s scoring the $348 laptop computer at Walmart or an Xbox 360 after standing outside in the cold for only eight hours. For others, it’s being secure in the knowledge that you’re snug in bed while the unwashed masses clamor over a 50 percent off sale on tube socks.

To my family, however, the day after Thanksgiving is a little bit different. It’s about scoring a bunch of the little free Christmas ornaments at JCPenney. (Actually, it only used to be Christmas ornaments – a somewhat puzzling quest considering my family is Jewish and would have no place to hang such an item. Now, however, the once mighty and now just barely breathing retail giant offers up mini Disney snow globes to its early-morning bargain hunters.)

Growing up, my parents would rouse us from our beds early on the day after Thanksgiving. We’d pile into the minivan and rush over to the nearest JCPenney store where we’d divide up and go in different entrances. "One gift per customer," the sales associates would say. Well a suggestion like that is only as effective as "Employees must wash hands before leaving the rest room." We all now how well that one works.

Systematically, we’d enter and exit the various doors of the store, sometimes switching shopping companions and sometimes switching clothing. All is fair in getting free crap. In our heyday, our family of five could leave with nearly 20 of the coveted pieces of the elusive freebie goodness.

In any case, it was always a thrill when we could pass for 16 or 18 or whatever arbitrary age they would set for distributing the free tzchockes. (Sadly, now that I am nearly 27, I still have trouble passing for such ages.)

My parents have since abandoned the 15-year tradition, apparently valuing sleep over free crap but my husband has, for some reason, decided to appease me and joins me for my early morning snow globe hunt. This year the two of us came away with a total of seven caroling Mickeys. We could have gotten more, thanks to an unattended display at the lower mall entrance, but it seemed almost too easy. Plus, I only have so many pockets.