The end of an era

My grandmother passed away a week ago today. Her death is the first loss I've suffered as an adult and I'm still trying to cope with it.

None of this was entirely unexpected. She was 93, after all. About a month ago, her doctor diagnosed her with late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. She'd quickly gone from just being forgetful, to someone who we couldn't care for at home. We decided to move her from the hospital to a nursing home and that's where she remained until her death.

The funeral was Monday and at my grandfather's request, I gave one of the eulogies. I was glad to be able to talk about a few of the things that made my grandmother so special.

Below, I've posted the text of what I said at the service. For those of you who didn't know my grandmother, I hope it gives you a little insight into the amazing woman that she was.


There was nothing in life more important to my grandmother than her family. She was so poroud of all of us and so glad all of her children and grandchildren lived so close to her.

Grandma wanted to make sure we all got a good education so she could brag about how smart we were. She wanted to make sure we all had our own houses so she didn’t have to worry about where we would live. And she wanted to make sure we all found the right person to marry so we would always have someone to take care of us like she had Grandpa to take care of her.

Grandma did everything in her power to make all of this a reality. She wound up driving each of us back and forth to school countless times. And whenever one of the grandkids was ready to buy a house, she gave us the money for a down payment.

And even in her last weeks, she was intent on making sure all of her grandchildren had their perfect match. I was visiting her at the hospital and she asked where my brother Danny was. I explained that he was home and would be visiting later. She said she just wanted to introduce him to the nurse because that’s the kind of girl he should meet. Nevermind the fact that the nurse was married.

Seeing her family was always the most important thing to her. Whenever something good happened, we couldn’t wait to run and tell Grandma because we knew how happy she would be. Forget world peace or winning the lottery. Grandma just wanted me to find a husband.

One of my favorite memories is how when we were little, my brothers and I would spend New Year’s Eve at my grandparents’ house so my parents could go out with their friends. Grandma would always stock up on cake and ice cream and say “We can have our own little party.” The best part was that Grandma would always let me stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop but she’d make my brothers go to bed early.

Every Jewish grandmother tends to worry but Grandma turned it into an art form. When there wasn’t anything to worry about, she created something. Thank goodness she never discovered the Weather Channel. She taught us that a car is a weapon, never to pick up hitchhikers, and beware of the undertow. We knew to always wear our seatbelts, to lock the doors, and never touch a cigarette.

But most of all, Grandma taught us about love. My grandparents have been married for 70 years. Their marriage has been an inspiration to all of us. It meant so much to me get married with her wedding band and I wear it everyday.

I can’t even begin to explain how much I’m going to miss my Grandma. I know she loved every moment she had with us and I’m just so very lucky to have had 30 years with her.

-30-

On the occasion of my 30th birthday it seems only proper to take a look back at the three decades which have been my life. Happily, I feel I can honestly say I have no regrets.

My family, all its quirks included, has made me who I am today. I married a man who couldn't be more perfect for me. And, I was born to do the job I do.

I am undoubtedly one of the lucky ones. This doesn't mean that I haven't faced my share of challenges in life, but it does make me a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.

My first major hurdle came around the time I turned 12 years old. Struck by depression and anxiety, I stopped going to school. Through the amazing patience of my parents and grandparents, I started home-schooling which gave me the chance to stay up-to-date academically while sorting through the other issues.

My family's dedication ultimately led me to St. Timothy's School where I truly thrived. Thanks to the school's attention to the individual attention and academic rigor, I went on to college and then law school. Had it not been for St. Tim's, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today.

Five years ago this week, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. That's a life-changing event, if I've ever seen one. It's definitely made me a stronger person, or at least I'd like to think that it has. I might as well get something out of it, right?

It's funny how all the little bits in life add up to make me who I am. I can't wait to see how life plays out from here on out.

My darling husband recently reminded me that in journalism, 30 signifies the end. I guess it's a good thing I'm not a journalist anymore.

Caught

This year marked a new development in our Black Friday snowglobe hunt.

I got caught.

I was on my fourth time around when it happened. I'd left the store through a side exit and waited for a crowd of people before walking in again. I tried to blend in with them but it didn't work.

There was a bottleneck. I stood there two seconds too long. I was spotted.

The overly-cheerful JCPenney employee turned to me and slowly handed me a snowglobe.

"Second one?" he said, looking at me with a sly but knowing grin. I sheepishly accepted the snowglobe.

"I'm observant," he added.

Oh, I can't tell you how badly I wanted to say "Well, apparently not that observant, because this is actually my fourth one." But I kept my mouth shut.

Still, the family finished out the day with 11 snowglobes. I have no complaints.

I wasn't sure how well this year would go. The family has had a rough time lately and I was afraid the stress and need for sleep would keep my fellow snowglobe hunters in bed this year. We moved my grandmother to a nursing home this week after she spent a week in the hospital with what her doctor is calling late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. It's been a really hard time.

The family immediately balked last night when I reminded them that JCPenney opened at 4 a.m. They were tired. They wanted to sleep in. I said I'd be leaving the house at 3:45 and whoever wanted to join me was welcome.

My brother, Matt, was outside of my house when I opened the door at that ungodly hour. He and I drove to JCPenney where, to our amazement, a line was already forming outside.

I then had a call from my husband who was shocked that I left the house without him and said he'd be right there.

In all, I got four snowglobes and Matt and Rich each got two. I was happy with the eight, but later got a call from my dad who said he and Matt went back later on and they got another three.

I know it's a stupid tradition but for some reason, it means a lot to me. And I think it means even more to me this year when we're so worried about Grandma. It's nice to have some continuity in life.

Our new America

Barack Obama officially changed our nation yesterday, winning the hearts and minds of millions who previously never gave a thought to politics. And it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone.

This election has been unique from the very start.

Obama is a politician like none I've seen in my lifetime. He's so different, in fact, that I don't know what to think. He has fans and followers with an enthusiasm that typically accompanies boy bands and football teams.

It's that hero worship, not his politics, that makes me uncomfortable. I've been brought up to believe that you can't trust politicians and that it's the public duty to question their actions and inactions.

But in this election, I found that people were personally insulted if you so much as asked a question about Obama. It was as if by questioning Obama, you were questioning their entire existence. There was a new emotion in this election. Of course after eight years of George Bush, I can see how people would get a little emotional.

My father points out that we can now thank Bush for one positive thing: Motivating people to vote.

And I certainly give Obama credit for getting interested in politics again. I worked as an election judge again and voters voted with a passion. We went to start setting up the polls on Monday night and one gentleman came by just to make sure he knew exactly where to go the next morning. I was the first election judge to arrive on Tuesday morning and at 5:15 a.m., there were already people camped out.

We went non-stop from the time the polls opened at 7 a.m. until 12:20 when we finally got a minute's break. Surprisingly, the steady flow did not continue through the day. Although we reached a 69 percent voter turnout at our precinct, the afternoon and evening hours were very slow.

Many more people brought their children with them to vote this time around. And unless you've got a screaming baby, I've always thought this was an important thing to do. I still remember my parents taking us with them to vote over the years. I particularly remember going with my mom to Winand Elementary to vote in the Reagan-Mondale contest in 1984. I thought those old-style voting booths with the levers and curtains were the coolest thing. I hope the kids of today had the same positive experience as I did.

I'm very curious to see what will happen once Obama is inaugurated in January. Every president gets a honeymoon period, but I have to wonder how long Obama's freedom from criticism will last.

I really wish him the best of luck, even though I might not agree with him on all of the issues (but I also don't agree with McCain). He has a tough job ahead of him and a lot of work to do. It's a job that I certainly don't envy.

For America's sake, I hope he really does have all the answers. But I also hope people remember that he's a politician and as citizens, we have a duty to keep our elected officials in check. After all, it was George Bush who argued that it's un-American to challenge your government and we all see how well that worked out.

Mmmm... cake!

I love cake.

Wait, let me repeat that. I love love love love love cake. If allowed, I would gladly subsist on cake and nothing else. But Rich, with his silly theory on balanced diets, has overruled me on that.

But, for our anniversary this year, I got in a little cake love. I signed us up for a cake decorating class.

Let me tell you -- the folks on Ace of Cakes make this cake decorating thing look way too easy. I mean I knew it would be a challenge, considering I have no creativity, skill, or coordination, but I didn't think I'd fret over it as much as I did.

For the last class, we were told to bake our own cake, ice it, and bring it so we could decorate our masterpiece.

So on Sunday Rich and I baked our cake and started the icing process. This did not go well. I'm not sure if the cake was just too moist or if we just didn't give it enough time to cool, but when we starting icing it, chunks starting falling off. I had a cake avalanche on my hands.

I became quite distraught and was ready to trash the whole thing but I just don't have it in me to throw away a cake. Rich suggested that we stick the cake in the fridge and give it a try the next day with a new batch of thinner icing.

The idea worked and I caulks the cake with the new icing, filling in the cracks. By the time I was done, you could hardly tell how bad it looked the day before. Yes, the cake and all its spackle now weighed about 10 lbs., but it looked good.

Our last class happened to be on the eve of my parents' 36th anniversary so we decided to make the cake for them as a gift. I toyed with a few different sayings such "Celebrating 12 years of happiness" or "36 years of wedded adequecy." But, due to my lack of skill in writing on cakes, we opted for a shorter and simpler design.

I have to say that I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. How it tastes, however, is an entirely different issues. I may love cake, but I'm not fighting to try this one.

So, um, enjoy it Mom & Dad. Hope you've stocked up on toilet paper.

Disney on speed

My dad always said the only way I'd ever make it to Disney World was through the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I guess it was my own fault for not getting cancer 15 years earlier.

But last week I finally managed to make it to Disney, courtesy of a free trip I won. Sure it was just two nights and we had to stay at a child-focused hotel, but it was worth it.

We got into Orlando a little before noon on Sunday, checked in at the hotel, and headed straight for Epcot. For a place whose acronym stands for Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, I really would have expected better bathroom technology. Seriously, could they not have anticipated that the future would require more than two stalls in a ladies room?

And aside from that, I really would have hoped that the future could have worked out an automatic toilet that flushed upon completion rather than when I entered the stall.

But enough about toilets. I have so much more to criticize.

We hit all the major high points of Epcot, including the GM Test Track and the space ride inside the big silver golf ball looking thing at the front of the park. We made our way through the various countries and finished out the day by watching the fireworks display over the water.

The next day we went to the Magic Kingdom which was, thankfully, far less crowded. We made a beeline for Space Mountain as soon as they opened the gates and followed it up with It's a Small World and The Hall of Presidents.

Never having been to a Disney park before, I was a little surprised that the rides were hardly rides at all and certainly not scary. In fact, it was pretty much like going on the same ride over and over again. They herd you into a slow-moving vehicle that takes you through an indoor animatronic journey. Sometimes they change it up and you get into a fake boat instead of a fake car.

It's probably fair to say that the extent of my Disney knowledge comes from the Simpsons episode where they go to Krustyland. And that brings us to the final (and best) day of the trip when we hit Universal Studios for its new Simpsons ride.

In life, if you're lucky, you experience a few moments where it feels like things were created just for you. This is what the Simpsons ride was for me. Even waiting in line was fun as we enjoyed all the subtleties created for the ride.

After two go-rounds on the Simpsons ride, we did Disaster and Twister and the Mummy rollercoaster. By the time we went on a few more rides it was time to head back to the hotel to catch our shuttle back to the airport.

Now a note about our hotel. As I said before, we won the trip and therefore did not get a choice in where we stayed. The Nickelodeon Family Suites would have been the last place I would have stayed if I had a choice, but I really don't have any complaints. I would highly recommend it for anyone traveling with children.

Overall, I think I dealt pretty well with being out of my element, i.e. around kids. Rich reminded me that this wasn't Vegas -- we were traveling in their world.

Our time at the hotel was greatly improved once we located the bar. For the record, it takes three drinks for me to forget that I'm surrounded by screaming children.

I overheard one conversation while waiting in line for a ride and I think it was more telling than anything I could say. A little girl asked her father why her little brother was crying. The father pauses, and then say "Because it must be his turn to cry."

I honestly don't understand how parents can manage to do Disney or any other kind of vacation with kids. Traveling without kids is difficult enough. Add to that a stroller, diaper bag, snacks, and activities to keep your tired child occupied, and I no longer doubt why my parents never took us anywhere.

Mom and Dad -- You're officially forgiven. And I'm done with Disney.

Rockin' out middle school style

Please pardon me if I seem a little tired today. Last night we partied like it was 1989.

They say you can't relive your youth, but try telling that to the thousands of screaming women in their late 20s and early 30s who packed the Verizon Center in D.C. last night for the New Kids on the Block reunion concert. It was just like we were 12 again, minus the acne and pre-calculus homework. (Okay, for me maybe just minus the homework.)

We sat in the uppermost section in Row O (as in Oh oh oh oh oh.) We didn't have the worst seats in the house -- that honor went to Row P, the last row of seats in the arena. But the distance didn't matter. We were still there and they were still the same old New Kids. And per instruction, we threw our hands in the air and waved them like we just didn't care.

There was bare-chested Jordan, with his nearly disturbing falsetto, Danny with his breakdancing, Jon with his always sheepish look, and baby-faced Joey, showing off his Dancing With the Stars moves. And of course, we can't ever forget bad boy Donnie, with his Boston cap and same poor command of the English language.

The guys have aged really well. I think they're far more attractive now than back in the day. Of course I also recognize that my tastes may have changed somewhat in the last two decades or so.

I feel pretty confident in saying that the majority of the women there spent the first 30 minutes of the two-hour concert just laughing. It was a very "is this really happening?" kind of mood. I don't think any of us really thought we'd ever see that synchronized, pendulum-like swinging leg dance set to The Right Stuff ever again.

The concert structure did seem a bit disjointed at times. Clearly they planned it so that the guys would have a chance to rest (and do one of their many costume changes) between sets. They alternated between their new songs and old hits. At one point they did an "in memory" tribute to those they've lost, and included Donnie's father and Danny's mother in the same breath as Heath Ledger and Tupac. It seemed very out-of-place and inappropriate.

None of that mattered. The ladies in attendance loved every second of the show. They came decked out in painters caps, denim overalls with one flap hanging down, and big New Kids buttons. They bought $40 t-shirts like water in a desert.

For one evening, we could all remember what it was like to hang tough and live a life without responsibility. That alone was well worth the price of admission.

Wet dog: A beautiful smell

There isn't enough Prozac in the world to give me the same high I get from the annual Doggie Paddle. This is the fourth year in a row I've gone to the neighborhood pool for some dog-on-water action, and I still contend that life doesn't get any better. For two hours, all is right with the world.

All of the usual suspects were there: the gung-ho water dogs, the scaredy cats, and the dozens of wet dogs, all seemingly named Buddy. And this year featured the dog in the red collar who almost knocked me into the pool not once, but twice. My favorite though had to be the little guy who starting the swimming motion ever time his owner picked him up.

I could go on and on about how much I love this event, but I'd rather let the pictures tell the story.



Someone is a little reluctant.





"Uh huh. So if one wanted to exit the pool, how exactly might they do that?"



Don't you know the cardinal rule of perms? You always have to wait two days before washing your hair.




"This swimming thing isn't so bad. Just don't let go of me."







"Um, excuse me. That dog took my Frisbee."






"But I 'm not ready to go yet!"

Usurping the Olympic spirit

I've previously documented my extreme hatred for the Olympic games and the crappy television programming that results.

Just how many interviews with Michael Phelps' mother does anyone really need anyway?

Thankfully, the good people at Animal Planet, the network which brought us the Puppy Bowl, are there to help me through it.

Get ready for the 2008 Puppy Games. The show will air Friday night, opposite the colossal disasterpiece that has become the opening ceremonies.

My television viewing decisions couldn't get any easier than this.

Sundown

Getting thinner is usually a good thing -- but not when you're talking about my daily newspaper.

Last week the Baltimore Sun, my morning subway read, took another in its seemingly endless turns for the worst and completed an additional round of buyouts and layoffs. This cycle witnessed the loss of another 55 people.

Gone are the likes of Gregory Kane, Mike Himowitz, Roch Kubatko, Greg Garland, and John Wostendiek, as well as many behind-the-scenes players who kept the paper going every day.

Gone is a stand-alone business section.

And gone is any confidence a person could have in this once-great paper.

Yes, I'm more than just a casual news reader. I'm a media junkie, or maybe a media snob. But I also have a long history with this newspaper. I've been reading it every day since I learned to read. My very first job was selling subscriptions to The Sun.

And now, when I see an ad running on the front page of a this newspaper, I weep.

Who would have guessed that only a year after its inception, The Baltimore Examiner, the free daily tabloid, would become the big guy in town? And moreover, who would have thought it would happen due to the Sun's own self-cannibalism?

Had The Sun paid any attention to the growing popularity of the Internet, I doubt it would face such a predicament. Instead, it casts off its popular bloggers and scrambles to function with what's left. I really sympathize with the Sun staffers who must truly do more with less. I know some of them, and I know what they're facing.

At what point did it seem like a good idea for The Sun to turn its efforts to b, its youth-focused publication where an in-depth story gets no more than four inches? Every day, I face several b hawkers and I grow angrier and angrier when I think that this is how the Tribune Company views my generation.

Please believe me when I say that I really don't care about someones greatest pet peeve, as submitted by text message in less than 100 characters. I don't need the Cliff Notes version of your newspaper which amounts to little more than borrowed wire briefs and unattributed summaries.

Oh, the poor Baltimore Sun... or poor, as Sam Zell would have you believe. I'll keep reading you everyday like I have since I was in elementary school, but it'll never be the same.

My brown thumb

I'm now one step closer to becoming my mother. I can no longer be trusted around plants.

I inherited an aloe plant with my office nearly three and a half years ago. Recently it took a turn for the worst.

Last week the state had to step in and take away my plant to put it in foster care. And by state, I mean my co-worker, the green thumb, who works three offices down. And by foster care, I mean she had to give it more soil and plant food before returning it to my window ledge.

I've always been very hands-off in terms of my plant. I did replant it in a nicer pot soon after I started working there. I give it water every once in a while but other than that, I try to leave it alone. Who knew plants like this need food? Not me, apparently.

This plant is just one in a line of my failures in growing green things. We suffered the loss of another plant at home a few months ago. Rich and I dug up our whole front lawn just last year, all in the hopes that something would grow. We're still waiting. We've also had to replant our front hedges twice since moving in.

Thankfully my work plant is starting to show signs of life again, as you can kinda see in the picture above. My co-worker even gave me a bottle of plant something-or-other to water it with next time it needs it. If that doesn't work, I'm just going to give it ice cream. That always helps me perk up.

Fiscal Fun on the Fourth

The Fourth of July has always been my favorite national holiday, next to my birthday. Every year I try to do something truly American to celebrate the day.

This year was no exception. This Fourth of July I decided to exercise my right as an American to act with great financial irresponsibility and gamble away my hard-earned dollars in Atlantic City.

Actually, let's back up a little. I really did partake in a bit of our county's rich history as we started out the long weekend in Philadelphia, with my first visit to the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. I just love this history crap, so I got a kick out of seeing the very place where our forefathers signed the Declaration of Independence and where the Constitution was born.







With the historical part of the visit out of the way we switched gears and headed straight for authentic Philly Cheesesteaks at Pat's and Geno's. I'm really not sure what all the fuss is about. To be honest, the cheesesteaks were okay, but I've had better... and that was in my college's dining hall.





The next stop was at a little place called the Naked Chocolate Cafe, where we shared some kind of peanut butter and chocolate torte and a mini chocolate fudge cake. They were amazing and I'm thoroughly embarrassed to even admit this but we couldn't finish either of them.





We finished out our visit to Philadelphia by taking in a performance of Les Miserables at the Walnut Street Theater, the oldest continuously operating theater in the nation.

We left Philly and headed to Atlantic City on July 3rd, where we took in the pre-holiday fireworks from our hotel room in the new Waterfront Tower at Harrah's. The fireworks came so close that it reminded me of my days in Baghdad. (Or what I imagine Baghdad would be like, had I ever gone.)

Our actual Fourth got off to a nice start with a great breakfast and a trip to the beautiful pool area, complete with free drinks. In honor of the Fourth, Harrah's had this nifty giveaway every half hour. If your name was called, you had 15 minutes to claim you money. I thought you had to be playing at the time in order to win, so I was only half-listening to the names called while up in the hotel room.

It was then that I heard the most beautiful mispronunciation of my name ever. I'd won. I didn't know what I'd won, but I'd won something. I shot up out of bed and took off for the elevators, running across the casino floor. Simultaneously, Rich heard my name called and figured I was fast asleep and oblivious to my win. He tried calling my cell phone, which didn't work because apparently the one amenity lacking in the new hotel tower is cell phone service. He started and O.J. Simpson-style airport dash and eventually we met up at the prize table. I was the lucky recipient of $1000!


I can't even describe how good it feels to win. All I know is how much more fun an Atlantic City trip can be when you come home a winner.

Coming home, however, is always a treat in itself. There's no toilet paper like home.

The newest in old music

Come this fall I’ll once again be embracing my inner dork. I’m finally going to see the New Kids on the Block in concert.

The New Kids are a fitting addition to my summer concert lineup. Every other musical act I’ve seen so far or plan to see in the coming months has officially acquired has-been status. I'd say we're one step away from making an AARP membership or double hip replacement a prerequisite to seeing a band live.

We started the concert season with Van Halen – a performance that had to be postponed due to Eddie Van Halen's undisclosed health problems. Rich also wanted to get tickets to see Yes, but the band's front man went and suffered respiratory failure so that was a no-go.

This past weekend we went to see Lisa Loeb at the Recher Theater. At 40, she’s hardly old, but let’s be honest – she hasn’t had a hit since O.J. Simpson was just known as a good football player. I adore her and I’m very glad I went to the concert, but she's hardly a top heat seeker on the Billboard charts. (I don’t really know what that means, but I’m sure Adrian would be glad to explain.)

We’re going to Hershey in July to catch another Billy Joel concert. I feel like I can never get enough Billy Joel, especially when nobody really knows when he’ll wrap his car around another tree and be done for good.

In August we’re headed to Delaware for the Unicity Festival in Middletown. Rich hasn’t seen The Fixx since college and is very excited to go. And because John Waters, my favorite baby boomer, is speaking at the festival, I agreed to join him.

The following week we get a double dose of 70s and 80s goodness as both Boston and Styx perform at Pier Six. Pier Six has really cornered the market on aging musicians and their fans who aren’t quite up to a crazy evening at Merriweather. Sit on the lawn? Thanks, but no thanks.

I went to my first Pier Six concert last year where we saw Squeeze and we’ll we back later in the summer for George Thorogood of "Bad to the Bone" fame.

Sometimes I like to play a little game at these concerts and try to find the one person in the crowd who isn’t white, above 30, and investing at least 10 percent of their income in a solid mutual fund. I’m rarely successful in this endeavor. You know you’re dealing with a slightly more mature crowd – when the bathroom attendant notes that "Gosh, tonight’s crowd sure is polite."

Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. Give me a good reunion or comeback tour any day -- just as long as it doesn't go past 10 p.m. We do have to work in the morning, y'know.

Happy 70th Anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa!

I have the cutest grandparents in the world and today marks their 70th wedding anniversary.

I've previously detailed how they met and the other highlights of their lives so I won't repeat myself on that end.

What I will say is that I consider myself so lucky to still have my grandparents around and get to learn from their wisdom and the great example they set.

I wore my grandmother's wedding band today in honor of their anniversary. It's the first piece of jewelry my grandfather designed and the same ring I wore on my wedding day. I consider it a good-luck charm.

It gives me chills to look at their initials engraved on the inside along with 5/1/38 and 12:50 p.m. Rich and I had our initials engraved alongside theirs.

If there's any marriage to emulate, this is the one.

Mmmmm... cake!

My nephew, Aidan, celebrated his first birthday this week.

Clearly we're related. This is evidenced by how quickly he dug into his Cookie Monster cake. Like me, Aidan utilizes the inhale-rather-than-chew method of cake consumption.

Oh, just wait till I introduce him to the rest of the finer things in life like chocolate and Diet Coke! So much to learn yet so little time. Happy birthday, kiddo!

Much too young to feel this damn old

Oh, Garth Brooks, you know me so well. I really am much too young to feel this damn old.

Here I am staring down 30 and I already have a medical resume to rival any senior citizen. I've grown tired of being a medical marvel and I'm none too pleased with my present affliction which, thus far, has garnered no diagnosis beyond malaise. (Stay tuned for test results which could show anything from underactive thyroid to Lyme disease to bubonic plague.)

I'm not sure what my parents were trying to pull when they got together but I'm pretty sure their genetic matter is some perfect storm of DNA. Neither family is much help. You name the disease and we can likely track it within a short distance of consanguinity. (Wow, I just proved myself wrong. I really didn't think I would ever use the word consanguinity after law school.)

I feel bad about complaining because I know I'm still better off health-wise than a lot of people. I may have had cancer twice, but I was insanely lucky to catch it as early as I did. And as crappy as it was, at least I just had to have surgery and not go through chemo or radiation like so many others.

Still, it would be nice if I could make it through a day without having to think about how badly I'm feeling. I can no longer remember a time when I didn't have to stress over every little ache and pain. Seriously, the herniated disc really just adds insult to injury.

Oh, how I long for the day that the only things that I share in common with the seniors I work with are my frequent trips to Atlantic City, interest in knitting, and propensity to cut coupons.

My selection show

It’s not just college basketball fans who get excited around this time of year. No, we theater fans wait our turns patiently too. We’re just as interested for our big announcement of who we’re going to see and when.

But my curiosity was satisfied at this morning’s announcement of the 2008-2009 season at Baltimore's Hippodrome Theater.

(Well, technically I had a pretty good idea about the lineup a few weeks back. A BroadwayWorld.com reader posted the list of shows on the Broadway board before it quickly disappeared. Then BroadwayAcrossAmerica.com, erring on the side of stupidity, accidentally posted the information last night.)

In any case, this morning unveiling made everything official. Here’s what the lineup looks like:

Legally Blonde the Musical -- Sept. 30-Oct. 12, 2008
Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas! The musical -- Nov. 11-23, 2008
A Chorus Line -- Dec. 2-14, 2008
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang -- Jan. 6-18, 2009
Grease -- Feb. 3-15, 2009
A Bronx Tale -- April 14-26, 2009
Spring Awakening -- June 9-21, 2009

The Hippodrome people seem to be touting the 08-09 season as child-friendly, by including Grinch and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. But, considering they selected a song from A Chorus Line with a refrain of "Tits and Ass" as one of the live songs at this morning's selection show, I’m not sure everyone got the memo.

On the whole, I’m pretty pleased about next season. Instead of there being three shows I really didn’t want to see like this year, next year there are only two. (Yep, you guess it. They're the child-oriented shows.)

There are a few glaring omissions from next season's lineup. No Jersey Boys. No Drowsy Chaperone. No Sweeney Todd. C'mon. Even Minneapolis got Jersey Boys.

Still, I am glad for what we do have.

I’m most excited about Legally Blonde and Spring Awakening which, you may remember, we went to see in New York about a year ago. Both are fresh, new musicals that appeal to my generation even though one is fun and light and the other is dark and depressing. Both have soundtracks that will stay stuck in your head for weeks at a time.

Chazz Palminteri’s A Bronx Tale should be a really good show too. Some of you may know the story from the 1993 movie version, starring Robert DeNiro, which Palminteri wrote. The stage version is a one-man show where Palminteri does 18 different characters.

I'm also looking forward to A Chorus Line which is a classic musical I've somehow missed so far. And Grease, while I'm not excited to see again, is okay and least has familiar music. But, more importantly, it's not Cirque Dreams.

Happy 30th, Adrian!

Thirty years ago today, on the Pacific island of Guam, a baby named Gerald entered the world.

A few months after that, he became Adrian. And a little over 18 years later he became my best friend.

(The name change thing is a long story. Ask Adrian about it. Or, better yet, ask his parents.)

Anyway, we met as freshmen at St. Mary's. As newspaper nerds, we both joined the staff of The Point News and before we knew it, Adrian became the editor-in-chief and I was the managing editor.

We've stayed close since college and except for Adrian's year-long stint in Nashville, we've been lucky enough to only be about a half hour away from one another.

Adrian's Tennessee adventure did, however, give me an excuse to head west, where I saw everything from the the Grand Ole Opry to enormous warehouse stores that only sell fireworks. (This is the part where we ignore the fact that I was more excited about Opry Mills, the mall just across the parking lot, than the actual home of country music's elite.)

Adrian is a pretty unique guy and I won't even begin to try explaining him. Just know that he firmly believes that everything is better when pickled. Or in Peep form.

He's also been lucky to travel extensively -- something I've always envied. Please remind me that I still need to get the scoop on his recent return to Guam.

I was one of the invited few at Adrian's birthday party over the weekend hosted by Steve, his older brother, and Steve's wife, Jenn. Like every other Adrian-related event, the Simpsons figured prominently. Adrian's oldest sister, Michelle, made the awesome Homer Simpson carrot cake in the picture above. Below, you'll see the picture I had made for him to commemorate his 30th.



I hope Adrian has an absolutely wonderful 30th birthday. If it goes well for him, I might even try turning 30 in a few months too.

Tap water, now new and improved!

Once again my dad is way ahead of his time. First it was free refills on soda and now it's Prozac in the water supply.

According to several news outlets, an AP investigation has uncovered prescription drugs in the drinking water of at least 41 million Americans. Apparently we've got everything from antibiotics to sex hormones coming out of our faucets.

Please -- my father came up with this idea years ago. He's advocated this for as long as I can remember. And, whether it's Prozac in the water supply or giving Valium to trick-or-treaters, who wouldn't benefit from a little mood enhancement?

I'm not sure I even understand what all the fuss is about in the first place. Prescription drugs have gotten ridiculously expensive. My water bill, on the other hand, remains surprisingly affordable. It sounds like the solution to the prescription drug crisis if you ask me.

But no. All of a sudden, the same Americans who waste their money on those fancy enhanced bottled waters are now worried about tainted H20.

Well gosh, thank goodness my daily liquid intake is 95 percent Diet Coke. I am a health nut, after all.

Totally Wired

We're just about an hour away from the last episode of The Wire and while I'm excited to see how it all wraps up, I'm already mourning a Wire-free existence.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: The Wire is the best television drama of all time. (Sorry West Wing, but Baltimore beats D.C. every time in my book.)

As a recovering journalist, I was more than a little excited when I first learned that The Wire would turn its focus to the Fourth Estate in the final season

And, now that the season is just about over, I feel comfortable in stating that, despite what the Baltimore Sun wants you to believe, the newsroom scenes aren't without their bits of truth.

The newspaper business is just that -- a business. Like any other casualty of budget cuts, journalists are constantly asked to do more with less. So while the Baltimore-based drama shines some light on the Sun, the same stories are playing out in newsrooms of every size across the country.

The line between good and bad isn't always as stark as it is between Gus Haynes and Scott Templeton. But remember -- Jayson Blair did happen. (Incidentally, if you have any interest at all in journalism, I urge you to read Blair's autobiography, Burning Down My Masters' House. It's shocking and fascinating.)

So what does The Wire get right? It does a good job at showing the frustration and excitement of the news business. I know what it's like to be the young reporter who can't wait to see her first front page story. I was her.

I know how it feels to work on a deadline when nobody is talking. And I know what it's like to beat the rest of the pack on a story or get beaten by them. (Thank you David Simon for my favorite moment of the season to date -- when The Daily Record beats the big bad Sun on a story.)

The classic Tommy D'Alessandro "my desk told your desk" story? That stuff is legendary among local journalists. David Simon was there. He may be biased but he knows his stuff.

So does this season of The Wire give a dismal and depressing view of journalism? Sure. But what do you expect from a medium that failed to anticipate that the internet would render it as obsolete as the slide rule or eight-track?

And, even with the show ending, The Sun couldn't help but take one last jab at David Simon. More than 48 hours before The Wire's final episode, The Sun had already posted a review of the episode on its website with the headline "'Wire' finale lacks power of past seasons."

Thanks Sun, but David Simon won this round.

No fire extinguishers necessary

With apologies to Meg, whose Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme is the ultimate in food blogging, I hereby announce that Rich and I have achieved quite the culinary feat ourselves; we actually used our kitchen for something other than storing Diet Coke.

I'm not sure what prompted it but for four evenings in the last ten days, we've actually prepared our own dinner -- a teriyaki chicken stir fry.

For most people, this whole cooking thing is just a daily activity. For Rich and me, who only have a kitchen because it came with the house, it's practically a miracle.

We had it down to a science after the first go-round. Rich handles the actual stovetop action while I'm in charge of cutting up the vegetables, preparing the rice, and setting the table. And, by setting the table, of course I mean putting paper towels on the coffee table and making sure the Tivo has an episode of King of the Hill ready to go.

This culinary adventure has gone so well so far that I even ventured into the cookware section at Bed, Bath and Beyond and emerged with a new wok-like pot. It's like I'm practically a gourmet chef.

In the future we may even alter the meal and try something completely different like chicken stir fry with a tomato-based sauce.

What if they held an election and no one came?

If Maryland's presidential primary was supposed to actually matter for once, no one bothered to inform the voters in my neighborhood.

I, along with my fellow election judges at Cedarmere Elementary, expected a heavy turnout due to the contentious Obama-Hillary race. We were very wrong. Except for a small rush of voters when the polls opened and another surge after 5, we had very little traffic. We barely made it to a 32 percent turnout. (Our precinct, in case you're wondering, went heavily in favor of Obama by a 2-to-1 margin.)

The polling place was a ghost town for much of the day. Nobody bothered to electioneer outside. People driving past the school would have no way to know there was an election going on inside.

As bored as we were, we knew we couldn't leave the precinct for any reason so we had to find ways to entertain ourselves during the downtime. My most creative use of time award goes to the election judge at our poll who used voting stickers to make works of art. The sunburst, featured above, is my personal favorite.

I'm quite thankful that the voters at the precinct were very nice and grateful for our work. I'm sure the fact that they didn't have to wait in line contributed to their good moods. Everyone thanked us for helping and even the people who were upset because they were unable to vote (because they were unaffiliated, at the wrong polling place, or hadn't bothered to register) voiced their gripes in a polite manner.

But you know what would have really been nice? It would have been oh-so-nice if the elections board actually bothered to inform us that, due to the crappy weather, the polls would be open 90 minutes later. We only found out because one of the election judges had a call from her son-in-law asking if it was true that we had to stay open. We tried to verify the rumor by calling the elections board but nobody answered. Instead, I had to call my husband who checked the news and sure enough, our captivity had been extended.

I understand the reason for extending the voting hours. I really do. No one is more gung-ho about the importance of voting than this nerdy political science major. Still, I really wish they had considered the safety of the elections judges in this decision.

We'd all been inside since 6 a.m. and the freezing rain did a wonderful job of encasing our vehicles in an inch-thick layer of ice. After we finished out 16-and-a-half-hour workday at 10:30 p.m., we were freed only to forge an icy sidewalk and parking lot. With front and rear defrosters on high and my scraper getting the workout of a lifetime, it still took half and hour to get my car into a drivable condition.

I stuck to the main roads and everything was fine until I got to my street and lost total control of the car. My steering wheel was impotent to the forces of the ice. I almost plowed into two different light poles but by some stroke of luck, managed to avoid them.

I came to a stop about 30 feet from my driveway. I was blocking a driveway and the mailbox so I knew I had to move but I was too afraid to go anywhere. After calling both Rich and my parents for advice, I started to drift again and eventually wound up in the driveway. I've never been so happy to be home.

I may complain, but I'm still really glad I was a part of the process. As an unaffiliated voter who can't vote in Maryland's closed primary anyway, it was important to me to have some hand in this important election. Besides, someone has to do it.

That said, I will now return to CNN for my regular dose of election coverage.

To breathe again

I couldn't be more excited for Maryland to go entirely smoke-free this Friday, February 1. I also couldn't be more conflicted.

For, you see, as much as I absolutely hate smoking, I also hate the thought of the Maryland General Assembly stepping in and mandating what legal activities its citizens can and cannot do.

I've been putting off writing about this because this is such a difficult issue for me to reconcile. My libertarian leanings tell me to be outraged at this invasion into people's personal choices and the rights of business owners to respond to what the public wants.

But, at the same time, I've always put smokers right up there with drunk drivers, child molesters, and people who end sentences in a preposition. Are these really people I want to protect?

I come by this hatred naturally. For as long as I can remember, my grandmother made me promise that I would never smoke even a single cigarette because cigarettes killed her father. Yes, she used the word killed. And because of that warning, I've never so much as touched a cigarette.

The other side of the family shouldn't be left out. One of my favorite stories from my Aunt Judy, my dad's younger sister, is when she visited my parents soon after they were married. My dad was in the kitchen washing dishes and she lit up a cigarette just to see what his reaction would be. Within a split second, he turned the faucet sprayer on her and hosed her down. So yeah, we're not exactly pro-smoking in my family.

The matter is further muddied because of my passionate support for the American Cancer Society, a group that championed the ban. I feel the need to celebrate my ability to enter bars across the state without choking and reeking of smoke for hours after I leave. But I will only do so with a feeling of ambivalence.

What will you be doing this Friday as Maryland goes smoke-free? Regardless of your carcinogenic leanings, I hope you will consider dining out at one of the restaurants below that will be donating a portion of its proceeds to the American Cancer Society to mark this important milestone.

Restaurants participating in Dine Out for Relay For Life:

Bayou Blues Cafe at the Avenue at White Marsh (15% of sales, 4-6 p.m.)
Pizzeria Unos at Harbor Place (20% of sales all day.)
Greene Turtles across the state (10% of their sales from 11a.m.-2 p.m.; The Fells Point and North Ocean City locations will be donating 10% of their sales all day.)

Just my luck

Usually when the phone rings before 7 a.m. you're about to get bad news. The opposite happened to me today.

It was my dad calling to tell me that one of my mother's co-workers had called him to tell him she saw my name in the Baltimore Sun and I'd won a trip.

I enter so many contests that I didn't even know which one this could be. I thought it was for a trip to Florida, perhaps Tampa Bay.

As it turns out, I won free airfare for two and two nights in Orlando, home of Disney and all that it entails.

Here's the funny part. Our accomodations are at the Nickelodeon Family Suites. Only I would win a trip to a child-themed resort. Me, the girl who needs sedation to be within 50 feet of an anklebiter, will be lounging by the urine-flooded pools at a hotel that caters to snot-nosed tax-deductions.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm very excited to have won and I'm certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I count my blessings for being so lucky to win as many contests as I do. And secretly, I do have to admit I'm pretty psyched at the thought of a Sponge Bob-themed suite.

I've never done the Disney thing before so here's the question. We'll have one full and maybe one half day to see what Disney has to offer. Where do we go and what do we do?