2007 -- In Memoriam

I fully admit that I've shirked my blogging duties as of late so please be patient as I do my best to redeem myself by featuring quantity over quality.

I contemplated fashioning this into one of those popular end-of-year top ten lists but later decided that I didn't want to limit and/or stretch my imagination by subjecting it to some arbitrary number. I'm also not so good with counting backwards.

Henceforth, you shall find my list of highlights and disappointments of the past calendar year, with no particular numerical values assigned. Enjoy.

Highlights

Paying off my car - After nearly five years, I can officially call my Toyota Corolla my car as opposed to the bank's security interest. I've now satisfied my first significant adult debt. This is a nice contrast to my student loan, which I will be paying off until I'm 87. Now let's just hope I can squeeze another 200,000 or so miles out of my reliable wheels.

Subway garage - To quote the legendary Jerry Orbach in Dirty Dancing, "When I'm wrong I say I'm wrong." Yeah, I was wrong. I'm actually quite pleased with the parking garage at the Owings Mills metro station. Of course a dry barren field would also have made me happy after trudging through the mess of mud and construction for two years. Still, it's pretty nice to park somewhere that I can avoid the snow and rain, especially this time of year. My newly-paid-off car appreciates it too.

New familial additions - This year brought two additions to our extended family -- one of the two-legged variety and one of the four-legged. Aidan, my nephew, joined the family under somewhat less-than-expected circumstances but he's managed to win everyone's heart. And Eli, my step mother-in-law's service dog, has also been a big hit. I'm really curious to see which one, Aidan or Eli, will learn to talk first. Eli got a strong lead on walking so we'll have to wait and see.

Gastro-travel - As if travel isn't enjoyable enough on its own, this year I discovered the pleasure of gastro-travel. I don't know if this phrase exists or if I'm inventing it so in case the latter is true, I shall define gastro-travel as the process of immersing yourself in the cuisine of the area you're visiting, or, at minimum, daring to try something new. This is a big step for me -- someone who grew up with a palette only as extensive as the menu at McDonald's. Our San Francisco trip is the perfect example of how to eat your way through a city. I tried things I never would have willingly eaten before, such as cappuccino and fancy focaccias, and my colon lived to tell about it.

Laptop - Thanks to Rich and a great Black Friday sale, I am the proud recipient of a new laptop for my birthday/Chanukah. My new Dell is a huge improvement over my aging Compaq Presario and I truly enjoy living my untethered cyber life. With my birthday commandeered by Chanukah this year, the laptop was the best gift I could have asked for. It shall lead me into many more years of blogging goodness.

Bladensburg Quik-E-Mart - Sometimes you feel like society just doesn't get you and then this happens. I already detailed my love for the Springfield experience so you can review my fawning there, if you wish.

Disappointments

Striking writers and stagehands - Wouldn't it be nice to care so little about your work and the people you serve that you just go on strike? Oh, no wait, I have a sense of responsibility so I would never do that. It's not like we're living in the era of Upton Sinclair, where workers are really facing danger on a daily basis. Frankly, striking Hollywood writers or Broadway stagehands just minimize the legitimate efforts of those who came before them and really suffered. The greedy, self-absorbed unionites of today have no regard for the people making less money than they do and who they're screwing out of a paycheck by striking. If you don't like your employer, find yourself a new job. You're lucky to have that luxury. And in the meantime, stop messing with my TV viewing. It pisses me off.

Mayor Dixon - Until Sept. 11, 2007, we could still pretend. We could still delude ourselves into thinking that Sheila Dixon would never become the full-fledged mayor of Baltimore, and her short stint as acting mayor was just some cruel joke that would end soon enough. But once Baltimore City's primary election of 2007 came to a close, there was no more pretending. It was just disappointment -- disappointment that city voters actually elected Sheila Dixon to control the city for the next four years. Sadly, the city of Baltimore is getting what it asked for.

Baltimore Ravens - When the 2007 season started, the big guys in purple had just come off of a pretty good season, going 13 and 3 the year before. We had no reason to expect that this year would be too much different. We were so wrong. This season has been excruciating to watch. The Ravens managed to not just lose, but to really get creative in how they lost. They lost in overtime to the Bengals on a field-goal that bounced off the crossbar, and a few weeks later, tricked us into thinking they might defeat the undefeated Patriots. They followed that one up a few weeks later with a loss to the win-less Dolphins. If only they could put this much flair into winning.

(Notice that the Baltimore Orioles failed to make my list. While they hardly had a stellar season, I also never had any real expectations of them. I was too young to appreciate the World Series victory of 1983 so I really came of age in an era when an Orioles' win was something you often hope for but rarely got. As such, the Orioles are not a disappointment, but rather a way of life.)

Baltimore County - Fighting cancer twice was hard enough. I never thought I'd have to fight Baltimore County just as hard over holding a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society. As a co-chair of the 2008 Relay For Life of Northwest Baltimore County, I was shocked when the county school board evicted our 11-year-long fundraiser from county schools. Adding insult to injury, the county's Department of Recreation and Parks also refused to host us. After a lot of effort from some dedicated people, we're thrilled to have found a home at Reisterstown Regional Park. So watch this space next year when Relay For Life takes the top spot under my 2008 highlights.

BS scores 14 in rout over JCP*

With a powerful offense, the BS team managed a successful 14-snowglobe haul in its 2007 Black Friday Classic, besting last year's total by one.

The trio came late to the game this year, not starting until 4:30, despite JCPenney's unprecedented 4 a.m. start time. The calculated risk paid off, however, with the team utilizing the crowd to its advantage.

Averaging 4.6 carries each, the team started off slowly with a one-by-one approach, coming up with three on the first drive. They returned for an additional two each, with Matt and Alisa each going hard for the fourth.

JCPenney put up a good defense, again limiting distribution to just one entrance. This year they strengthened the line, using an untested three-man block pattern.

The new strategy proved tough, forcing the BS team into a huddle just before halftime and ultimately resulting in a detour to Boscov's.

Rested again after the half, BS came on strong as it shed hats and glasses in a last-ditch strike. Alisa went back for the extra point and Matt "the vacuum sleever" followed up with a two-fisted grab at a temporarily unguarded table, bringing to total score to 14.

"It was a total team effort," Matt said at the post-game wrap-up at Staples. "We didn't want to run up the score, but I'm really proud of the way our guys hung in there."


*With apologies to my husband, who will undoubtedly criticize my sports analogy. I promise to leave the sports coverage to you in the future.

Only a bagel can fill this hole

On the eve of Thanksgiving, when I should probably be thinking about all the things I'm thankful for, I can't stop thinking about the one thing I've lost.

It's been nearly two months since I've had a decent bagel.

It's been nearly two months since New Town Cafe put up a "closed for renovations" sign. Sadly, in restaurant-speak, that means closed, period. The disconnected phone line and a chat with a local restaurateur later confirmed my fears.

I've yet to find a place that can replicate the quality of bagel produced by the New Town Cafe. No one else seems to get the right mix of the slightly crispy outside with the doughy, chewy inside.

I'm quite the bagel traditionalist. I don't want an everything bagel. Skip the toasting and the cream cheese. Just give me a good hard plain bagel that I can gnaw on like a chew toy and I'm a happy girl.

As a jew, I was born to eat bagels. Back when I was in law school I would stop at the old Joan & Gary's in Pikesville. The man behind the counter always winked at me and tossed an extra chocolate chip bagel in the bag free-of-charge. Life was good.

For the past several years, just about every weekend morning started with Rich and me stopping off at the bagel shop for an eggwich with cheese or some other variation. I'll admit that the speed and accuracy of my order certainly declined when the place changed hands a few years back, but I'd much rather have a slow bagel than no bagel at all.

Now I'm forced to search for other suppliers. Like any good addict, I'll go where I need to go to get my fix, even if I can't get exactly what I want. The long line at the drive-through at the local Dunkin Donuts shows the utter despair my community is facing. A Dunkin Donut bagel can barely be considered a bagel at all. It's so gooey and mushy that you might as well go for the jelly-filled donut instead.

I used to laugh at the people who went up to New York to bring back a bunch of their favorite bagels. After all, I could get really good New York style bagels in walking distance from my house. But now I understand their plight.

I've tried to find a satisfactory substitute but I'm not quite there. The Bagel Bin up in Reisterstown is okay, but the bagels are too small and the shop definitely suffers from its change in ownership. Joan & Gary packed up and sailed off to the Virgin Islands. I hear good things about Goldberg's in Pikesville, but I'd rather choke down a frozen Lender's than attempt to park there.

I do enjoy the occasional trip Habib's Kabobs and Bagels in Eldersburg, if for nothing else than the name. Still, it's not the most convenient location for me so I can't make it a daily part of my routine.

Nothing matches the quality and convenience of my good old familiar bagel shop. I can only hope that some smart entrepreneur sees the void left in the community and picks up where New Town Cafe left off. I would be ever so thankful.

I'm just a girl who can't say no

If life really is what happens while you're making other plans, I must have one heck of a life. Because let me just tell you -- all I've been doing lately is scheduling more and more things.

My newest toy, my Palm Z22, is partly to blame. In the two months that I've had it, I've managed to over schedule my life beyond belief.

Of course this whole jam-packed life is hardly a new thing. It wasn't any better when I was a low-tech Day-Timer devotee.

There are two ways to look at this. You could say there's just so much I want to do in life. More accurately, though, I'd have to admit that I'm an obsessive person who has some sort of irrational need to be in on everything.

I blame my parents for doing this to me. My mom always had to be the class parent on president of the PTA. My dad always had to coach every softball and soccer team or be the president of the community association. I guess I was pretty much destined to be like this.

They're the reason I volunteered to co-chair the 2008 Relay For Life of Northwest Baltimore County, why I'm on the board of my homeowners association, and why I decided to serve as an election judge again. Likewise, they're why I intend to help out with the new neighborhood citizens on patrol and why I'm also obsessed with doing a good job at work.

I always have to have a trip or vacation scheduled. I always need to plan out the perfect birthday present for my husband. I'm not capable of just sitting back and enjoying life.

Genetics have forced me to do all of this, even though it means stressing myself out in the process. I'm simply incapable of saying no to things and I still want to do more.

So thanks, Mom and Dad. I'll remember to think about you two at some point while I lay awake all night worrying about all of the things I have to get done.

The restaurant with A.D.D.

Food is an instrumental part of any good vacation. So it sure was a good thing we managed to squeeze in a few really good meals after the, um, interesting dining experience we had our first night in Vegas.

A few days before our trip, Linda Lou, Rich's host over at Harrah's called to ask if there was any way we would be willing to go to an entirely comped dinner over at Cafe Martorano, the newest Italian restaurant at the Rio Hotel and Casino. She'd even sent a limo for us. Somehow we mustered up enough strength to oblige.

Of course I'm still not entirely sure what I make of the restaurant itself nor its proprietor, wannabe celebrity chef and soon-to-be reality TV show star Steve Martorano. The food was good enough but I could have done without the, ahem, attitude and atmosphere.

It was as if the restaurant was in severe need of some Ritalin. The decor and music literally changed every few minutes. You'd go from a disco ball and Sinatra music to strobe lights and Baby Got Back, all before you had a chance to scarf down the $1200-a-block cheese.

Ah, the insanely expensive cheese. This is where the attitude came in. Our waiter took great delight in telling us how much money Martorano spends on his ingredients and how that made the food so good. As I said before, the food was fine -- I particularly enjoyed the macaroni -- but if the food is really that good, I don't need my greasy waiter continuously bragging about it throughout the meal. Good food should speak for itself. Besides, by the third or fourth time that the waiter barked "Gimme your plate" I knew we'd lost a bit of the magic.

I'm also not too impressed with some of the restaurant's policies. For one, there's a strict no changes and no substitutions policy. Chef Martorano says he makes his food one way and one way only. Now I'm a very picky eater and we dine out practically everyday. I honestly can't remember the last time I ordered something without adding, subtracting, or substituting something. If I'm paying for something, it's going to be what I want. (Of course we weren't paying for anything that evening so I had to suck it up.) Somehow I managed to survive this particular meal but only because they basically brought us everything on the menu to sample so I could pick and choose what I wanted.

The other quirky rule is that you can't have a cocktail with dinner. Apparently Martorano believes a drink would distract from the taste of his food. We learned this the hard way when the drink Rich had just gotten at the bar was quickly abducted from the table. Sadly, the drink may have been the tastiest thing that night.

The appetizers included Martorano's homemade meatballs, shrimp scampi bread, and an eggplant stack made up of breaded eggplant, fresh mozzarella and other things I've only heard of on the Food Network. The meatballs were okay but nowhere near as good as the ones my dad makes. I'm generally not a fan of shrimp but I did enjoy the shrimp scampi bread. The eggplant stack was okay too, but mostly because of the cheese.

For our entree, we sampled the chicken cutlet downtown, some kind of sea bass (I passed on this) and the specialty macaroni. I enjoyed the chicken but it was nothing special. I'm also not clear on what makes the specialty macaroni so special. They could have substituted Kraft dinner and I wouldn't have known any better.

I lost track of how many desserts there were but I do remember a very good white cupcake topped in chocolate and some kind of mind-blowing cake. I was so stuffed that I passed on the cannoli and ice cream. For some reason, the waiter kept bragging about how the ice cream was Haagen-Dazs and encouraging us to try it. They must have some sort of deal with them.

The highlight of the evening wasn't the meal but rather a nice perk the casino threw in for us after dinner. They gave us $300 in promotional chips to play. Not being regular table game players, we headed straight for the roulette table where we were lucky enough to parlay the $300 in promotional chips into $300 in actual money.

While it may not sound that way, I actually really enjoyed the evening. A free limo, dinner, drinks, and $300? I could learn to live like this.

Another anniversary in Vegas

What could possibly top a trip to Vegas for our second wedding anniversary? How about another trip to Vegas for our third anniversary, this time comping the hotel stay, all our food, and throwing in free airfare?

Yeah, that'll do it.

This may have been a return trip to Las Vegas for us but we still had a lot of firsts to enjoy there.

It was our first time staying at Caesar's Palace, our first time in Downtown Vegas, our first trip to the Hoover Dam and the first time we saw a Cirque du Soleil show.

It was also the first time I insisted on switching hotel rooms.

In my defense, I was hardly being unreasonable. The first room they gave us didn't have a bathroom door. Now you can call me old fashioned if you like but I've always subscribed to the belief that what happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom.

(This would probably be a good time to mention a disturbing trend I've noticed with regard to the bathrooms in hotel rooms lately -- the door is becoming less and less present. We stayed in a beautiful room at Bally's Atlantic City a few weeks back but the bathroom had a swinging salon-style door. Even the room we switched to had just a partly frosted glass door. Am I wrong to expect a little toilet privacy nowadays?)

I should also add that the second room they gave us was much nicer and featured a large whirlpool tub next the bed. It also had a slightly less-than-classy mirror above the bed but the hotel tower was built in the 80s so I'll forgive that along with the popcorn ceiling.

But this trip was about so much more than just our hotel room. It was also about my life-long dream to visit the Hoover Dam and recite the same lines as spoken in such venerable movies as Vegas Vacation and Beavis & Butthead Do America. I can't even begin to explain how big a thrill it was to utter the words "Uh, is this a God damn?" and "Damn. Heh heh. I'll be damned," a la Beavis. I wish I was joking.

Seriously though, the Hoover Dam was more impressive than I imagined. Aside from the fact that the hydro-electricity it produces only came as an added bonus and wasn't part of the original plan, I'm absolutely floored by the thought that a government project could finish two years before expected and at no cost to the American taxpayer. Ah, the Depression era. Good times.

Anyway, now that we've completed two full Vegas trips, I still feel like we've only scratched the surface. There's so much more to see, do, and eat.

And speaking of eating, stay tuned for my next post where I'll describe a somewhat unusual evening at what is meant to be a new Vegas hotspot.

My Purple Evening

The Baltimore Ravens are having a contest to find the team's biggest fan. I'm pretty sure I'm not it.

My wardrobe lacks anything resembling a football jersey. I don't have the energy to tailgate. And, while I do love watching the Ravens play from the temperature-controlled, soft couched, no-line-for-a-dirty-restroom comfort of my home, I'm hardly a crazed superfan.

I did, however, have an awesome time at A Purple Evening, an event held for the female fans of the Ravens. After all, we girls do like playing dress-up and it's not everyday that we get to dress up as a team mascot. (And yes, that's me dressed as Poe in the picture above.)

Joining me for the evening were Kristen and Michele -- two wonderful ladies who thankfully agree with me that the pink-colored jerseys for women are ridiculous. Have we really gotten to the point where purple is no longer feminine enough?

Anyway, the ladies' night gave us a chance to try out a few things we otherwise would never have tried. We got to go down on the field at M&T Bank Stadium for a chance at kicking a field goal, explored the Ravens' locker room, and even had the opportunity to partake in the ritziness that is the club level.

We've already decided to attend the event next year. When we do, we'll have a much more organized game plan. I, for one, will dress more appropriately for the evening and hope to be clad in a Matt Stover jersey. We will also arrive sooner in order to sign up for some of the on-field fun.

On the Ravens' end of things we're hoping for a slightly more organized event where the fact that you have to sign up in advance for the clinics is better publicized. (Then again, I was also hoping for a better outing in Sunday's game against the Browns but I guess we can't always get what we want.)

Oh, and we're also hoping the team will make those cute Purple for Women t-shirts available, even though the logo looks like a deodorant ad.

In the meantime, we'll get to giggle over the pictures from this year. I'm particularly amused that the NFL feels the need to post its rule against gambling on games right in the middle of the team locker room. Then again, considering the arrest records of our players, maybe they know what they're doing.

Where the wild things used to be

I didn't want to do this. I really didn't want this to be my fourth consecutive blog entry focusing on animals.

But, this weekend marked the five-year anniversary of my first date with my husband -- a date which took place at the zoo -- which we lovingly recreated with a return visit. In other words, how could I not write about it?

(Besides, we had some awesome Italian ice while we were there and that alone would have warranted a zoo-related posting.)

Okay, so the zoo in Baltimore has always been a bit underwhelming. San Diego it's not. The reptile house is closed (which, incidentally, doesn't bother me a bit.) The flamingos have relocated. You have to go to D.C. if you want to see a panda bear. The elephants only narrowly escaped the axe a few years back. The monkeys rarely throw feces anymore.

It's a sad state of affairs. They've removed so many exhibits that you now have to take a tram ride from the front entrance to where you can actually find an animal. They take your picture at the beginning and then let you pick which animal background you want with it because you certainly aren't going to find anything nearly that exotic at this zoo.

But there are still some cute critters worth seeing at our zoo and we even went the whole visit without Rich shaking his keys at any of the animals. The penguins are pretty adorable. I adore Magnet, the polar bear who swims laps like an old guy at the YMCA. The giraffes were pretty neat too. Rich somehow instigated a fight between two of them. (Lifetime ban, here I come.)

We completed our day with dinner at HOPS, which is where we dined on our first date. We didn't have Jonathan Ogden sitting in the next booth over this time around, but other than that, it was the perfect way to celebrate the five-year anniversary of the last time I let Rich finish a sentence.

Wet dogs = cute pictures

With Buddy still recovering from his flesh-eating virus and Snoopy with a double ear infection, I had to go dog-less to this year's Doggie Paddle.

As I've detailed in the past, the Doggie Paddle is the annual puppy pool party held to benefit the Baltimore County Humane Society. It's heaven for dog lovers like myself.

My darling-yet-allergic husband agreed to accompany me so I didn't have to go stag. Still, it's somewhat awkward to attend a canine function when you're sans dog. I felt like one of those creepy child predators who goes to the playground to look at the little kids. Here, I was just some crazy dog-less woman ogling the cute, wet puppy dogs.

This year marks my third year of attendance at the Doggie Paddle and I'm starting to notice some themes emerging. In some ways, this doggy gathering is not unlike high school with its cliques.

First you have the labs, doodles, weinmariners, and other larger dogs. They're the jocks of the crowd. They like attention and will do whatever they have to do to get it, especially if that means shaking their wetness all over you, taking a dump in the pool, or humping anything that moves. Always up for a game, it's rare to find one of these guys without a Frisbee or tennis ball around.

Next you have the golden retrievers who are clearly the coolest kids in town. They stick together and don't really associate much with the other dogs. They look good, they're athletic, and they know it. They're the first ones in the pool and the last ones out. It's not easy to break into this group. Hell, they're even blonde.

The smaller dogs like the pugs and poodles are the freshmen of the crowd. Some are more outgoing than others, but most look to the bigger dogs for their cues. They're just testing the waters, literally, and not so sure they're ready for the big pool. Some of them have realized they they can jump right in and play with the big boys while others remain scared that they'll sink, not swim.

No matter what group the dogs fall into, they're completely adorable. I relish this event every year and have yet to find a better stress reliever anywhere. So here, for your viewing enjoyment, please check out the bathing beauties of 2007, otherwise known as wet, smelly dogs.

Maryland's 11 best days of summer

I'm such a sucker for the state fair. I love the food, I love the baby animals, and I especially love the chance to step right up, spin a wheel, and win a free pencil. It's like trick-or-treating for adults.

But what I really love is the fact that the fair doesn't change from year to year. It's the same exact tacky end-of-summer tradition I enjoyed as a kid.

The same attractions are always in the same place. The world's smallest woman is right across from the jacuzzi sales people. The bored state employees sit in the exhibition hall, fingers crossed and hoping that an altercation will break out over at the Jews for Jesus booth.

And in a cruel yet natural circle of life kinda way, the fresh pit beef is always right across from the cow palace.

Ah, the food. I mustn't leave out all of that yummy, patently unhealthy but oh-so-aromatic fair food. First you have your choice of meat, meat, and more meat. Add to that your choice of any deep fried anything on a stick and it's a veritable choose-your-own-heart-attack. Remember: Fudge isn't truly decadent until it's been deep fried.

Now this year I managed to experience a part of the fair I've never seen before -- the 4H livestock auction. I like my meat as much as the next non-vegetarian, but the auction was a bit more in-your-face than I would have liked. I can honestly say it's the first auction I've been to where they promise to "process" your purchase before delivery. Poor little rabbits.

But hey, Of course I'd be lying if I said I didn't love seeing all of the animals, even if I do have to ponder their demise. One of my favorite parts of the fair has to be the animal birthing area. I wasn't lucky enough to witness any of the little guys being born this year but I did catch a few calves and piglets who were born within the last day.

(Fun fact: Piglets grow at a rate of two lbs. per day. This is the same rate of growth I experience in the month of December.)

The end of the fair is always bittersweet. As a huge fan of fall, I'm glad to see summer fade away. But I will miss my chocolate covered frozen strawberries on a stick. You just can't find those at the Apple Butter Festival.

"Eli's coming, hide your heart"

I know I say all dogs are special but Eli, my newest dog-in-law, really is exceptional. He's a service dog, trained to assist my step mother-in-law who has Multiple Sclerosis.

And, as an added bonus, he's completely adorable. But what black lab isn't?

Eli joins Kay and the family thanks to the great people (and dogs) of Fidos For Freedom -- a non-profit group in Laurel that trains assistance dogs and the people who need them.

Rich and I met Eli for the first time a few weeks ago when we ran into him (with Kay, of course) at the mall. FFF takes a lot of outings so the dogs and people in training can get used to all kinds of situations. Eli already deals much better with crowds than I do.

With all the education and training Eli has, we feel seriously inferior in comparison. Rich jokes that he feels like he should wear a tie when we visit Eli. Heck, the dog is only two-years-old and he already knows sign language. Of course his primary duties include fetching things for Kay, supporting her as she walks, and "bracing" himself to help her in getting up and down.

Kay and Eli are now a little over a week into their 30-day bonding period. During this time, Kay is the only one allowed to care for Eli. No one else can feed him, let him out, or play with him. They're also not allowed to take him out in public yet. The idea is that Eli and Kay will use this time to really get to know one another.

We stopped by to visit yesterday and basically had to pretend that Eli wasn't there. For a dog lover, this is torture. Usually when I see a dog laying on the floor, my immediate instinct is to lay down right next to him. With Eli, I can't do this. He has a job to do and I can't interfere -- no matter how cute he may be. He's a working dog, not a pet, and that means no petting or fawning over him.

Kay starting going to FFF twice a week back in January to learn the commands she would need to know for working with a service dog. There are so many rules but she passed every test with flying colors.

When you first start at FFF, they tell you not to become attached to any one dog because you don't get any say in the dog selected for you. Just looking at Eli's little lab face, I don't know how someone can't fall in love with him.

Kay and Eli end their official bonding period on September 4, which also happens to be Kay and Harvey's 30th wedding anniversary. Seems like a pretty good way to kick off their next 30 years, if you ask me.

My musical motivational mix

Every once in a while everyone needs a little motivation in life. Music can help.

So, because I'm dieting once again and need all the inspiration I can get, I've compiled my list of the Broadway songs that give me that little extra dose of encouragement.

Click each song title to hear a sample of the song. Let me know if you want me to burn you a copy of the CD.

1. Totally Fucked -- Spring Awakening
Key lyrics: "But you're fucked if you speak your mind; And you know, uh-huh, you will."

Okay, so this may seem like an odd choice to start off a set of music that's supposed to be motivational but allow me to explain. When you're feeling kinda crappy to begin with, it's important to laugh and this song never fails to crack me up. It also reminds me that voicing my opinion isn't, um, always the best way to go. Let's just say my mouth has been known to get me in trouble.

2. For Now -- Avenue Q
Key lyrics: "Except for death and paying taxes, everything in life is only for now."

As if singing (and fornicating) puppets aren't cheer-inducing enough, this finale from Avenue Q reminds us that everything in life -- the good and the bad -- is only temporary. So if you've got it good, count your blessings. And if you're in the dumps, like my grandmother always says, this too shall pass.

3. Schadenfreude -- Avenue Q
Key lyrics: "The world needs people like you and me who've been knocked around by fate. 'Cause when people see us, they don't want to be us, and that makes them feel great."

Another selection from Avenue Q, this one reminds us that you may have it bad but just look at everyone else. Happiness at the misfortune of others isn't a bad thing. The song gets bonus points for teaching me to spell a difficult German word. Actually, that's a lie. I still can't spell it.

4. Do You Hear the People Sing? -- Les Miserables
Key lyrics: "There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes."

This is the most rousing, join the cause, inspiring kind of song I know. We even played the instrumental version as the recessional for our wedding. It's just one of those songs that gets me all happy and hopeful, even if just about everyone who's on stage during this number dies pretty soon thereafter. I went back and forth on whether to add this to label this a motivational song but hey, it motivates me so here it is.

5. Astonishing -- Little Women
Key lyrics: "I may be small but I've got giant plans."

This song, the last one in Act I before intermission, is sung by Jo, one of the March sisters, as she leaves home to embark on her writing career. It really leaves you wanting more and reminds you that sometimes you have to step beyond your comfort zone to achieve your dreams.

6. So Much Better -- Legally Blonde
Key lyrics: "I am so much better than before."

This song is all about girl power. It's the Spice Girls meet Gloria Steinam. Again the last song before intermission, here we see Harvard law student Elle Woods realizing that she can succeed on her own and doesn't need a man, even a rich cute one, to make it in life.

7. Find Your Grail -- Spamalot
Key lyrics: "Life is really up to you, you must choose what to pursue."

In an otherwise fluffy and comical show, this song really stands out to me as something you can actually take seriously. Everyone has their own goal in life and it's up to you to figure out what it is and how to get there. And oh yeah -- always look on the bright side of life.

8. Defying Gravity -- Wicked
Key lyrics: "I'm through accepting limits, cause someone says they're so."

Another song strong on the girl power scale, it's no wonder so many young girls flock to a musical like Wicked. The primary message in this song, and in the musical itself, is that your outward appearance doesn't matter but rather it's how you treat others that determines your place in life.

9. You Can't Stop the Beat -- Hairspray
Key lyrics: "So if you don't like the way I look well, I just don't give a damn."

This, my final selection, is about being comfortable in your own skin and standing up for what is right, no matter what society says. Perhaps more importantly, it's also the best damn musical finale of all time. It leaves you singing as you leave the theater (both live and movie) and has an unshakable sound. Where else can you look at the road to racial integration with such fun and whimsy?

Well, that wraps up my motivational mix. It may be difficult to understand some of my choices without seeing all of these shows live. I guess sometimes you really have to know the context. For that reason, I strongly urge all of you to go see these Broadway shows. I've thoroughly enjoyed each and everyone of them.

Thanks for the memories, Cal

I don't claim to be Cal Ripken Jr.'s biggest fan. I can't quote his stats off the top of my head like so many O's fans and I'm not venturing to Cooperstown this weekend like thousands of other Baltimorians.

But I did grow up in Charm City in the 1980s and 90s so for me it's pretty hard not to love the guy as both a baseball player and a hometown hero.

I was born in Baltimore in 1978. This means that means until I turned 22, I never saw an Orioles game without Cal right there, front and center. (Or, more accurately, somewhere between second and third base and then later, at third.)

Like the rest of my generation, I grew up watching the Iron Man play and never knew baseball to be anything else. I got chills when my parents drove us past his house out in the valley, always wondering what stood beyond the giant R's on the gates.

As kids, my brothers and I were members of the junior Orioles and watched countless games at Memorial Stadium. We came to love the Friday night student discounts when the Orioles made their home at Camden Yards.

I was just starting my senior year of high school when Cal broke Lou Gehrig's consecutive game streak in September of 1995. I couldn't get tickets for the 2130 or 2131 games but I watched on television in total awe of the man. After all, I'm the girl who considered it a streak if she made it to school three days in a row.

I was studying abroad in Scotland the summer after my first year of law school when Cal announced his retirement. As the news made its way across the pond courtesy of calls from home, my friend Kristen and I ran to the University of Aberdeen's computer lab for more information.

We got the audio working on one of the aging computers and the streaming video on another and we sat there quietly watching Cal's press conference with his announcement. We immediately bought a set of 10 tickets for the Sept. 21, 2001 game against the Yankee's -- what would be one of Cal's last three home games.

The terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001 came and baseball took a back seat, as did just about everything else in life. With several games cancelled, we were no longer holding tickets for Cal's last homestand. But when playing resumed, there was Cal and there we were at Oriole Park getting our last look at him on the field. (Cal ultimately played his last game two weeks later on Oct. 6, 2001.)

It was no surprise that Cal would be elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame the first year he was eligible. Many people started planning their trip to Cooperstown long before the baseball writers took the vote.

Kristen and her husband, Nathan, are making the pilgrimage to see Cal inducted and I hope they have an incredible time. We are glad to have joined them on the first part of their Cal tribute by going to Ripken Stadium to see Cal's minor league team, the Aberdeen Ironbirds, followed by the official Orioles send-off for Cal at Oriole Park. The latter featured free bobbleheads and let's be honest -- there isn't much I wouldn't do for a free bobblehead.

The atmosphere at Camden Yards on Tuesday night was amazing. It's been so long since I've seen that many people at the stadium. This year's Orioles team sure doesn't have that kind of drawing power.

I loved being there and seeing the greats like Brooks Robinson and Eddie Murray congratulate Cal on his induction. It was like for a few minutes the city could forget about its losing baseball team, rising murder rate, and general aura of corruption. All that mattered was Cal was there and he still loves us, or fakes it really well.

I admit that some of the tributes to Cal in recent weeks may have been a bit overboard but hey, with the supposed sports stars we have nowadays, it's pretty nice having someone like Cal to admire. Thanks for the memories, Cal.

A touch of Baltimore on the side

For the second time in less than a week I got to enjoy a slice of Hollywood while not straying too far from home. This time it was the Baltimore premiere of the new Hairspray movie, where I took my husband as part of his birthday week extravaganza.

The big highlight of the evening for me was the chance to meet John Waters, thus bringing to two the number of celebrities I’ve met who have made guest appearances on The Simpsons. (The first, in case you’re wondering, is Ron “Opie” Howard. His daughter went to my high school.)

Getting to see the movie with John Waters sitting just a few feet away was quite the thrill. I particularly enjoyed his brief, yet poignant, cameo in the opening sequence of the film. That scene alone is worth the price of admission.

Speaking of the price of admission, it wasn't cheap. At $150 a person, I was surprised to see quite the large number of children in attendance. Growing up, my father wouldn’t fork over the $4.50 it cost to see a regular movie, let alone pop for something like this.

But now that I'm a pseudo-adult, I can spend my money with reckless abandon if I so choose. Realizing that here in Baltimore we don't exactly have many chances like this, I absolutely had to indulge.

And it was that Baltimore atmosphere that really made the evening for us. Baltimore is not Hollywood and that's why I love it. People dressed in everything from t-shirts to tuxes. We even got to hang out with local baker-turned-celebrity Chef Duff and his Charm City Cakes crew, complete with their Hairspray-inspired cake pictured above. (Note the roaches included for authenticity.)

Now the film itself, interestingly enough, eliminated some of the Balto-centric details that made me fall in love the original story in the first place. Gone were the references to Essex Community College and the dangers of North Avenue. But I suppose that’s to be expected when putting together a movie meant to have such broad appeal. And one that's filmed in Toronto.

The movie's cast more than made up for any of the missing homages. In addition to adorable newcomer Nikki Blonsky as Tracy Turnblad and long-time star John Travolta appearing as her mom, I loved seeing the likes of Jerry Stiller, Allison Janney, and Christopher Walken in the film.

And while I personally never thought of John Waters and kids in the same sentence, I must admit that what the studio did by casting teen favorites like Zac Efron and Amanda Bynes is nothing short of genius. You already had the Broadway fans, John Waters devotees, and all of Baltimore on board, but this really sures up the 16-and-under crowd. Of course star power like John Travolta, Queen Latifah, and Michele Pfeiffer doesn’t exactly hurt things. (Is it bad, by the way, that I find John Travolta far more attractive than Zac Efron? I’m really showing my age, huh?)

I'll likely see the movie again in the near future. It won't be the same as watching it in the same theater with John Waters, Nikki Blonsky, Zac Efron, etc., but I know I'll be entertained just the same. Too bad there won't be free popcorn next time around.

Who needs the Kwik E Mart? I do!

It would be a bit of an understatement to say that my husband and I are Simpsons fans.

We walked down the aisle to a version of the Simpsons theme.

Our closest friends held a Simpsons-themed bridal shower for us, complete with Duff Beer and a Homer cake.

For his birthday last year, I commissioned a former Simpsons animator to Simpsonize us in a piece of artwork.

And I've long said that I would never camp out for tickets to anything... unless it was a Simpsons movie.

To appease fans like us (and promote the upcoming release of the Simpsons movie on July 27, of course), Matt Groening and company converted a dozen 7-Eleven convenience stores in the U.S. and Canada into Kwik E Marts.

Thankfully for us, one of the chosen locations is in Bladensburg, MD, less than an hour away.

We visited our own little Mecca over the weekend and embraced our inner geeks like never before. We drank blue squishees and ate pink donuts and had a sugar high that lasted for hours.

While I was thrilled to see several other camera-toting fans scoping out our own little piece of Springfield, I did get the feeling that not everyone was quite as excited. I overheard one young man in the parking lot commenting that he's "never seen white people go this crazy over anything." Some of the people waiting in the long line to buy their morning coffee were similarly nonplussed.

So recognizing that not everyone is as obsessed as I am, rather than going into great detail about the Kwik E Mart, I'll just share a few pictures.

BART: Milhouse, my friend, you and I are going on a spending spree.
MILHOUSE: My doctor says I'm not supposed to go on sprees.
BART: What about jags?
MILHOUSE: Jags are fine.
BART: Wonderful!



APU: Our wide variety of gum comes in both stick and ball.
BART: I'm not really about gum, but I like the whole chewing thing.
APU: Are you averse to crispy centers, sir?
BART: Not at all.
APU: Then we have much to discuss.

Thank you. Come again!

If you're going to San Francisco...

Forget about the stupid flowers in your hair. If you're going to be in San Francisco for any reason, the one absolute must-do is the Taste of San Francisco food tour.

I can't say enough positive things about this incredible, edible journey through the North Beach neighborhood. (But watch me try anyway.) To put things in perspective, I honestly don't think there's ever been a time that I've opted for bread over chocolate. Heck, our guide almost made me think about cooking a meal for once. But just almost.

We started out at Caffe Roma Coffee Roasting Co. where we sipped cappuccino and learned about what makes for good coffee. As someone who generally dislikes warm beverages, specifically coffee drinks, I was actually very interested in the roasting process.

I must say I enjoyed my very first cappuccino ever far more than I thought I would. I had no idea that roasting is what actually releases the aroma and flavor from the coffee bean, nor that the longer a bean goes between roasting and brewing, the more acidic it becomes. This accounts for the bitter taste that I dislike in the first place. But because Caffe Roma roasts its beans daily, there isn't that same acidity.

From coffee we moved onto chocolate -- specifically truffles. We ventured into XOX Truffles which is recognized by USA Today as one of the top three chocolatiers and by Chocolatier Magazine as one of its top ten favorite artisan chocolatiers. (Note to self: How is it possible that there is a magazine focusing on chocolate and I don't have a subscription?)

I thought we would get to taste one or two truffles at XOX but instead, they handed each of a us a bag with one of every flavor they serve. I think the franboise/raspberry was my favorite. I have no idea what franboise is but I love it.

We made a quick stop at the church which refused to marry Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe, and then it was off to what I can only describe as heaven on earth -- Liguria Bakery.

Liguria Bakery is family-run and has been around since 1911, making only focaccia. The sons come in overnight and start baking and then go home when the mom opens the shop at 8 a.m. When everything is gone, which is usually by 11 a.m. at the very latest, they close for the day.

By the time we got to the bakery around 10:30, they only had three varieties left: onion, raisin, and pizza. We sampled each of them and every single bite was magical. This wasn't some of that crappy focaccia you find on sandwiches at Ruby Tuesday or some other chain restaurant. This was real, melt-in-your-mouth, savor-every-bite goodness. They say a lot of it has to do with the water in San Francisco so it can't be replicated elsewhere. Just my luck.

We polished off the focaccia before heading to another bakery. The Italian French Baking Co. of San Francisco has everything from sourdough bread to some of the softest biscotti I've ever had. (Incidentally, if anyone can explain to me the difference between mondel bread and biscotti, I would really like to hear it.) I particularly enjoyed the chocolate-dipped macaroon, a far cry from the canned variety served at Passover.

This stop also included a tour of the back of the bakery with two huge brick ovens that have been in use for 80 years. Several San Francisco restaurants get their bread from this bakery and it's pretty clear why they do.

With sourdough in hand, we ventured over to the Palermo Deli for olive oil and salami. I don't really like or eat either of them so I was a bit lost during the discussions. Plus, it was really chilly and I had my thoughts set on the next stop on the tour.

By the time we reached theVictoria Pastry Co., the last tasting on the tour, I was pretty much stuffed. I was so stuffed that I only ate one cream-filled pastry. I actually turned down a second one. This is very possibly a first.

We wrapped up at the Purple Onion, the club where the likes of Robin Williams and the Smothers Brothers got their starts. We didn't eat anything here but our guide was kind enough to give us recommendations for anything at all food related in the Bay Area.

At this point we went back to our hotel room, polished off our doggie bags from the tour, and set out in search of more of that glorious San Francisco food.

Looks like a visit to Weight Watchers better be my next stop.

Our visit to the other bay

Prior to this past week, the extent of my San Francisco knowledge came directly from the opening credits of Full House.

Now I've learned enough to know that the classic 80s sitcom wasn't even filmed there.

But I also learned that San Francisco is a pretty cool city, especially once you learn to stop fearing the hills.

We arrived on Tuesday and navigated our way on BART from the Oakland Airport to our home away from home, the Orchard Hotel. Located right on the Powell Street Cable Car line, the hotel's location couldn't be better. And the free internet access and breakfast sweetened the deal even more.

After a nice afternoon nap we ventured into Chinatown, just a block from the hotel. We expected to find some good food and prices but weren't overly wowed. It seemed more touristy than anything and Rich certainly lamented the lack of vegetables in our chow mein.

Wednesday, the Fourth of July, brought us a San Francisco City tour as well as our visit to Alcatraz. The city tour covered all the important tourist spots like the Golden Gate Bridge, the Painted Ladies/Postcard Row, a view from atop Twin Peaks, the Castro, Union Square, and a drive past what we were told was Haight-Asbury. (I considered a return visit to actually explore the Haight-Asbury neighborhood but my meager hippie tendencies, which really don't extend beyond my Birkenstocks, voted no.)

We finished off the Fourth with a dinner of dungeness crab, which I found to be surprisingly tasty. It's clearly not my beloved steamed crabs of Maryland, but the garlic sauce served as a satisfactory one-time substitute for Old Bay. If only we could get enormous crabs like that here and not have to sell off vital organs to afford it.

We reserved Thursday for our little jaunt down into Silicon Valley so Rich could complete his work component of our trip. I drove the sporty little blue Mustang up and down my carefully planned route so we could hit all the big tech companies like Apple, Yahoo!, Google, Intel, etc. (Note: I only opted for the Ford Mustang after the Corolla I reserved was no longer available and I had to choose between the cute sports car and a ginormous sedan popular among the over-70 crowd.) We ended Thursday by taking in Jersey Boys at the Curran Theater.

Friday was definitely the highlight of the trip for me. We took the cable car to the top of Lombard Street and wandered down the windy street, expressing far too much enjoyment as cars tried to navigate the windy path. We wandered down to Washington Square and watched people do tai chi (presumably) until the start of our food tour. I can't rave about that tour enough and I'll elaborate on it in my next post.

I miss San Francisco. I really miss the weather where we enjoyed temps in the 60s and 70s all the time. I won't, however, miss the street people who always have their hands out. But hey, at least most of the panhandlers in San Francisco try to offer some sort of service in return for a donation. In Baltimore they just rob you.

I'd like to return to San Francisco one day, maybe even as part of a future cruise. You can't beat the weather and at least the hills would help me walk off some of the food I gorged myself on.

And speaking of food, be sure to stay tuned for my next post featuring the glorious food tour of San Francisco. Mmmmmmm. Focaccia!!!!

When weather attacks

That's not a layer of film on my glasses. It's really that hazy.

We're less than a week into the official summer season and I'm really not sure how much more I can take of this heat and humidity.

I'm the last person to go all Al Gore on you, but I do have what amounts to a somewhat unnatural dislike for this hot weather. I'm perfectly satisfied as long as the temperature is between 65 and 72 and slightly overcast. But a few degrees either way or an errant sunbeam and my otherwise pleasant demeanor turns remarkably less so.

I truly hate the summer. I don't handle the heat and humidity well and to make matters worse, my complexion was practically designed for skin cancer. And I'm certainly no fan of thunder storms (scattered or otherwise), tropical storms, hurricanes, or anything involving a front, squall, or clipper.

My severe disdain for summer weather goes back to childhood when I would freak out whenever it looked like it was going to storm. I don't know if it was a beach vacation ruined by Hurricane Andrew or the tornado that hit a few miles away when I was in 7th grade, but storms have always made me nervous. As I see it, rain leads to storms which leads to power failures, flooding, wind damage, lightning, cable outages, and all kinds of bad things. Don't believe me? Ask the people of New Orleans.

The TV weather people don't exactly make it easy on me. It's not a comfort to me when InstaSuperDopplerAccuWeatherTrackerPlus software can track a tornado watch to my street, zero in on my house and tell me to take cover in the basement. I don't have a basement.

Norm Lewis, John Collins, Bob Turk, Neal Estano, Tom Tasslemyer, Justin Berk -- all of them know just how to push my buttons. Sometimes it's a giant green L headed right for us. Last week we were right in the middle of a red quadrangle. Meanwhile, I envision the roof of my house being ripped off. So please don't talk to me about barometric pressure, dew point, or El Nino. Life is stressful enough without weather drama.

It's gotten so that the Weather Channel, formerly the beacon of all that is weather, can't even stick to simple forecasts anymore. Now we're given programming like Storm Stories, Full Force Nature, and It Could Happen Tomorrow -- y'know, just in case your own local weather on the 8's doesn't get your pulse racing enough.

Now in case you think I'm being unfair to summer, I should note that I could also do without winter weather. The weathermen can't get enough of that wintery mix, can they? They thrive off of the milk/bread/toilet paper insanity that is a Baltimore winter. Broadcasting from the salt dome is like Christmas to them.

But that white stuff is actually looking pretty good about now. And all I can do is sit back in my climate-controlled abode and count down the days until my beloved fall when it's safe to venture outside again.

No antiques at this roadshow

There's nothing like public television to tell you you're worthless. As if the pledge drives don't make you feel bad enough.

"Today's great programming has been made possible by viewers like you," they tell us. Yes, I know I'm a freeloader. I like it that way. Don't try to make me feel guilty. Now go back to the 10th anniversary of Les Miserables please.

But I digress.

Today I'm talking about Antiques Roadshow, the quirky little show-that-could that took up residence at the Baltimore Convention Center this past weekend. I was one of the few lucky enough to win tickets.

Let me rephrase that. I was one of the 3,400 given the opportunity to spend four hours standing on a hard concrete floor while lugging around items that may or may not be worth something. But even though all of our items fell into the latter category, it was kinda neat.

As soon as I found out we had the chance to go, I knew I would have to check out the treasure trove that is my grandparents' house. They have dust older than I am. So just as expected, trustworthy Grandma and Grandpa came up with a handful of interesting pieces for us to take.

The first two things we selected came from my great-grandfather's jewelry store. My grandmother's father, Anton Horvat, came to the U.S. from Hungary in the early 1900's. A professional jeweler, he set up shop on Charles Street in Baltimore. When the Great Depression hit, people brought in anything and everything made of metal to pawn for enough money to make it through the week.

A tea caddy, made by J.E. Caldwell & Co. of Philadelphia and engraved with the year 1906 on the bottom, is one of those items. According to my grandmother, the piece is a repoussé which I've since learned is a fancy way for describing an old technique of forming metal. The silver expert said the tea caddy should be worth about $100. It's a neat little thing and I wish I had an actual use for it. In the meantime, it's perfect for sitting on a shelf somewhere.

The other piece of metal work we took in is one that I've always liked -- a card case, like women used to carry back in the 1800s. The appraiser said it's in really good condition and indicative of the interest in the culture of the Far East. The piece, engraved with initials and May '88 (presumably 1888) is said to be worth in the neighborhood of $400. I'm actually tempted to use it as a business card case but chances are I'd set off too many metal detectors.

My great-grandmother's purse turned out to be the big disappointment of the day when we learned that it's actually worth less than any bag you could buy at Coach. The intricate hand-stitching is beautiful but apparently a lot of people thought so too and they made tons of them. Because of that, they're a dime a dozen. Well, technically they're not a dime a dozen. Specifically, it would go for somewhere between $60 and $80.

The last thing from my grandparents that we took along was a set of African mask bookends. Unfortunately, the story surrounding the bookends is worth much than the bookends themselves. My grandfather's parents ran a tavern in Baltimore back in the 1930s and 1940s. Apparently some sailors came into port and spent the day flirting with my great-grandmother and running up a bar tab. They used these bookends, said to be from their world travels, to pay off the bill.

According to the appraiser at the tribal art section, the bookends are nothing more than reproductions made for tourist purposes. He said that between 1920 and 1960, you could find these in most places up and down the coast of Africa. Still, they're worth about $150. Plus, they've graced my grandparents' end tables for the past 50 years so that counts for something.

Finally, the one piece I thought was worth the least -- a small pin/pendant Rich's step-dad found years ago on a parking lot -- turned out to be worth the most. What I thought had to be fake actually turned out to be diamonds worth $400. I tried my hardest to take a picture of the pin but the sparkly diamonds defeated my best efforts.

So while we didn't exactly fare well at Roadshow and never made it on camera, I definitely look forward to tuning in come January for the highlights of the Baltimore stop.

And remember PBS: Maybe if my stuff was actually worth something, I could afford to donate a few bucks and snag myself one of those cool tote bags.