Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs...

There is a strong but steady list of things automatically cause me to make a strong and less than complimentary judgement of people as I meet them.

Irrational love of Disney? Check. Improper use of basic grammar?(including but not limited too "your" v "you're" and there, their, they're) Check. Drinking white zinfandel? Check. 

Each of these things evokes an involuntary response from wherein, I automatically think less of you. The list is not comprehensive and is ever growing...As I get older, I find more and more things that illicit an automatic and negative response from me. 

There are a host of other things that trigger this response from me. 

One of them is car signage and vanity license plates. 

*Disclaimer to those of my friends who possess either of these things. I've already judged you and may or may not have deemed your other qualities a sufficient offset or I might make fun of you behind your back. You'll never know...

However, it's safe to assume that if your car features a "Baby on Board" sign, I'm judging you for your own stupidity each time I see you or whenever I think about it. Which ever is more frequent. 

Straight talk: Those little signs are eff-ing stupid and if you have one on your car, you are eff-ing stupid as well. 

It's generally considered in poor form to ram other vehicles while driving...and there are a bevy of ramifications that come to pass if, while in the course of operating a motor vehicle, you choose to ignore this general rule and go blithely on ramming vehicles. Namely, they will cease to allow you to drive. 

There are also a number of "Road Rage" laws in place, which give strict stipulations as to the consequences of driving like an asshole. 

Because, in general, you should not drive like an asshole, no matter what the passenger situation is in the vehicles surrounding you.

I am uncertain what the purpose of these bold yellow signs are, other than to serve as a general warning to the surrounding divers, that you, in fact, are a moron. Somewhere along the way, you registered for this item or purchased it yourself and went to the trouble to place it in your car. Somewhere along the line you decided to put up a bold sign that proclaims you as someone who not only makes poor decisions about automobile signage, but about spending money in general. It's like you are driving around with a little yellow sign that proclaims you to be a sucker. 

Do the drivers with these signs think that people who pass them, see the sign and say to themselves, "Oh shit, better not ram that car, there is a BABY ON BOARD...and I wouldn't want to cause harm to them. I'll go ram this car on the left, it's filled with completely disposable adults." 

or

"That car has a representative of the next generation of drivers in it, I need to slow down and follow all major driving laws, so that this youngster sees NOTHING but good examples of automobile operation. "

The answer is...no. 

According to my very unscientific poll (in which I texted the Emcee and asked for her thoughts on the issue)...most of us see those signs and think:

"That driver is a moron. I'm glad I don't know them...and eff them if I do. I think less of them now."

or

"Maybe I should zip up and whip around that car at breakneck speed and shout, "I WANTED TO SEE THE BABY!"

I'm just kidding about that second one, although the thought crosses my mind when I see those signs. Much like laying on my horn for a significant amount of times crosses my mind when I see people with a "honk if you love XX" sticker. Even if I don't love XX, I'm more than willing to scare the shit of said person in the name of loving XX. 

I am certainly not driving any differently around you because you have a baby on board and I'm no less forgiving of your poor driving if you do have a baby on board. Shitty driving is shitty driving. If you are driving slow in the left lane, I don't care who's safety you are protecting, you are in my way.

The most comical thing is when I see a sign on the car of someone who is ALSO driving like an asshole. I truly miss the point of these signs at this point. Is that an excuse? ("The baby's crying and I had to drive this way to get home faster") 

Unless you are targeting yourself for natural selection, it's really just time to take down these signs. As a car driving public, we will make every attempt to NOT ram your car. 

But not because there is a baby on board, but because its just a damn good idea. 

There's PLENTY of room on this Cubs bandwagon...

If your daily schedule takes you to the North side of Chicago today, I highly recommend speaking with your inside voice. There is an overwhelming chance that the person you are speaking too is some mix of hungover and tired and would deeply appreciate the consideration.

You see, for the first time since 2003, victory unfurled it's mighty baton over Wrigleyville last night and Cubs fans are basking in the glory of heading to the next round of the playoffs. While northsiders and Cubs fans alike are accustomed to going to Wrigley for a kick ass time and more than enough beer; we are less accustomed to the night ending in such a huge victory. There is a better than likely chance the person you are speaking too mayyyy have overdone it last night or may have been amoung the revilers surrounding Clark and Addison last night. 

However, the victory is not limited to the northside of Chicago, or even the state of Illnois...the Cubs fan base stretches both far and wide...and we're willing to let anyone join the party. 

Yes, that's right sports fans, if you'd like to jump on this Red and Blue bandwagon, we've got a seat with your name on it. 

Articles like this are popping up everywhere. http://www.si.com/cauldron/2015/10/06/chicago-cubs-bandwagon-fan-application ...and I see the humor...

Wrigley didn't gain it's reputation as "the World's greatest beer garden (oh and sometimes they play baseball too) without reason. 

Our "victory" song is fairly illogical and any number of people (including your author) can only name a handful of players. (ASC, try not to be too mad at me about that.) 

We have our fair share of colorful fans and strange traditions and no one is trying to admit that the bathrooms don't have a distinct odor and depending on the day, temperature and amount of beers in your system. These things are either a) charming or b) annoying.

But isn't just about every victory song at least a little illogical? Show me a professional sports team that doesn't have it's own charming/annoying fans and traditions. Ballclub rosters change often, so give a girl a break.

...that does not stop me from very enthusiastically celebrating the Cubs successes...

...and it shouldn't stop you either. 

The fact is the Cubbies are playing some great ball and it's exciting. The excitement is compounded by the large gaps between bouts of being a respectable ballclub. Give us the nod, it hasn't been October in our calendar for awhile. 

For years now, we've cheered on your teams in the post season. Maybe our cousins are your fans or our father was born in your city. Maybe our favorite Cub was traded to your team..and without a dog in the fight, we've added our voices to yours and passionately backed your playoff run and appreciated your silly fight songs and strange traditions. 

So now, as we move into the somewhat unfamiliar territory of not only being in this series, but having a strong team, playing great ball...join us! You can be a fan of another team or a fan of nothing. You can have a deep understanding of the nuances of baseball strategy or not know the difference between a ball and a strike. We won't hold it against you. Can't find Chicago on a map? Blame your junior high social studies teacher, but we'll be happy to point it out. 

It's no big deal to us who you cheer for during the regular season or if you cheer at all. A team with a storied history and exciting future makes no distinction. We won't hold you to being a fan next season, unless you want to be. 

The Friendly Confines are just that...friendly. Welcoming. We'll offer you a seat on our bandwagon and a beer to go with it. Some peanuts too if you're lucky. 

Why? Because its good for baseball and any true Cubs fan, at their core, loves baseball. We love it and throw a fit when it's bad. We love it and throw a party when its good. 

And thanks to Sensi Epstein, we're starting to be able to throw those parties. 

So while Sports Illustrated or disgruntled fans of other teams might throw jabs at the "new Cubs fans", we're excited to have you with us! Welcome to the bandwagon, here's your Old Style. Now, let us teach you how to say "Holy Cow" just right. 

Because it's Root! Root! Root! for the Cubbies...and we're thrilled to have you rooting with us.

Now, Play Ball! 

The good old days...and other cloudy truths...

Jersey, who has been my friend since we were nubile freshman at Indiana University posted this on Facebook the other day.

https://bendlikeabranch.wordpress.com/2014/12/11/its-more-about-cupcakes-than-you-think-how-our-educational-system-is-failing-our-children/

I agree with about 95% of what this author is writing about and applaud it. I often look over my own public school experience and compare it to the things I am learning about education in the year 2015. There are so many things that this piece nails right on the head. I found myself saying "Yep! and you're RIGHT!" while shuffling my feet and muttering something about walking to school in the snow, 6 miles, uphill, both ways.

However, there was one paragraph that I have to comment on.

"While ADD and ADHD were unheard of in my time, they now seem prevalent. Or is it the fact that downtime for our kids has all but disappeared, leaving children who need to be active and moving locked to more and more desk time?"

From the outset, yes, I agree. Kids need more time to be kids. A lot more time. Kids need more time to that is not regulated with an outcome in mind. Kids need more time to make their own decision and figure it out.

Except for one thing...I WAS a kid in public school in the 80's with undiagnosed ADHD. and it sucked. and it was hard. really hard.

I've been thinking about writing about my dealings with ADHD for awhile now and I still have parts of the topic I will address elsewhere...but in regards to the schooling portion...I'm saying this and I want to be perfectly clear.

If I had been diagnosed properly as a kid, I can't imagine how different my life would have been.

To my parents credit and in their defense, they didn't get me tested because it was just too much of an unknown. While today, there are more resources to provide assistance in the course and manner it is needed, that just didn't exist when I was a kid. There just was not an option to have a little more time taking tests or a teacher who understood that you were not fidgeting at your desk and drawing elaborate bubble letter versions of your name because you weren't paying attention. It was because you needed to keep your hands occupied to have ANY HOPE of actually hearing what the teacher was saying. 

In those days, if you couldn't cut it in the mainstream, you were labeled, regulated to "special" classes. I didn't need those. I needed to walk around while my teacher was up at the front of the room...I needed to be able to read my tests out loud to myself so I could both see them and hear them. I needed a little assistance...I needed a little help.

And the author is correct, no one worried that you were going to compromise your success in life if you neglected to bring your pencil to class. When I was in the 3rd grade, I kept forgetting to bring a potato to class for a science experiment. No one assumed I'd be a failure at life. My friends mom, who lived right by school, brought one over on recess. Problem solved.

I got diagnosed with ADHD in my early 20's. It took me a long time to accept it and to accept the fact that to be a productive adult, I needed pharmaceutical intervention. Everyone I knew who was my age told me, when we got to talking that my issues were "mind over matter" and that i just needed to "knuckle down" and "figure it out."

...and that is what I had been doing...most of my life. I'd been doing all that.

I'd been dealing with ADHD by playing games with myself and tricking myself into bouts of conversation. But my mind was a mess and my thoughts were a mess and I still wasn't all that much better at just "getting it done."

Even as an adult, with her own bills to pay, I'd spend an hour manically google searching some irrelevant detail, all the while knowing that I had a stack of invoices that needed to be loaded into our accounting software. I actually KNEW the conversation I'd have with my boss in the morning, but I wouldn't be able to start concentrating on the reality, I was too busy with the fantasy.

So often, when I think about my childhood. I'm reminded of the epic battles I had with my parents regarding my homework. I remember being required to do my homework at the kitchen table, where it was easier for my mother to monitor my progress...and still, I'd sit at the kitchen table and become fascinated with something, anything that had nothing to do with whatever I needed to be studying. The vast majority of my educational knowledge coming from whatever I could cram in an hour before the test and spit out in rapid succession.

My mom's nickname for me as a kid was "dreamy smurf." I was constantly distracted by the smallest things and unable to keep my mind on the task at hand, like learning multiplication tables or writing out notecards.

I wonder, what would have life been like if there was person in our tiny elementary school in New Jersey who realized that my issues were due to an actual problem with an actual solution. That adjustments, understanding and a few pills a day might have provided relief.

I spent so much time as a kid feeling like if I could just get myself to focus and take care of business, that my life would be easier, my fights with my parents would be fewer and my ratio of success would be astronomical.

So while I agree with the somewhat nostalgic notion that our educational practices helped us prepare for life and learn to deal with curveballs, because it certainly did...I can't help but be thankful for the increased focus there is on learning disabilities and be a little jealous...what might my educational experience had been like if that had been part of my reality?

But the cupcakes...I loved the cupcakes. More of those please.

The Third Date

On our first date, I sat awkwardly across the table at an Italian Restaurant, absentmindedly drawing bubble letters on the butcher paper and downing entire glasses of Chianti each time he excused himself to use the restroom.

On our third date, we spent the weekend in Las Vegas being VIP guests of the MGM Grand and attending the U2 concert.

Right around the time that my divorce finalized, I met the kid...he was young...much too young for me (actually even younger than I was aware at the time.) He had an adorable baby face and a passion for the industry we were both working in. He was immature, ridiculous and that made him perfectly irresistible.

"We probably need to sober up a little." I stated as we walked back from lunch at Wolfgang Puck's then somewhat new place in the middle of the MGM. We were punch drunk and who wouldn't be? There had been drinks on the plane, a glass of champagne as they ushered us into the the special VIP check in area and gave us all the information on the next two days and where they had made us reservations and informed us what time things were happening.

I sipped my drink and tried to pretend that this was de rigueur...but I my eyes were frantically darting around trying to take mental pictures of everything. Capturing everything since we ascending the escalators and there was a little sign with our names on it being held by uniformed driver, who ushered us into a silver stretch limo and  shepherded us into the little lounge where, apparently, important people check in.

"A nap would be good." He confirmed as we stepped back into our suite of a hotel room.

I was just sitting down on the end of the ottoman taking of my shoes when there was a knock at the door. Not expecting anything, I opened it somewhat cautiously...and found myself face to face with an entire rolling table of goodies...a welcome "treat" from the Event Manager who was hosting us for the weekend.

and we were going to ignore it too...stick with the initial plan of a disco nap. Until my eyes closed in on the bottle of French Champagne and I realized not uncorking it immediately would at the very least, be irresponsible.

Which is how I wound up sitting in the middle of a giant chair, shoes off, in the kid's t-shirt and throwing back glass after glass of bubbles and toasting myself for my own good fortune. It was, after all, a few days before what would have been my first wedding anniversary. However, by that point, there was no anniversary to celebrate and no husband to celebrate with. Somewhere between my 2 and 3rd flute, I wondered vaguely what he was doing...and quickly mused that he was probably not in a suite at a hotel in Las Vegas, knocking back a bottle of gifted French bubbles and getting ready to attend the U2 concert as a guest of the venue. Who said I wasn't winning this divorce?

The next morning, I woke up and looked at the table, now mocking me with 2 empty bottles of champagne and the business end of a dozen or so chocolate covered strawberries...

"Water..." I mumbled as I reached for one of the water bottles. Where had the second bottle come from and who decided that was a good idea.

Whistling, the kid stepped out of the giant bathroom and looked at me, "Rise and Shine!" He screamed as he walked towards me. Or maybe he whispered. It sounded very loud, but I was not entirely certain if that was real or an amplification from the empty champagne.

"I...need...food..." I stammered as I looked at him, fresh from the shower, not looking the least bit worse for ware. I pulled the sheets around me and hoped that not ALL of my eyeliner had migrated to the other side of my eyes.

He informed me that he had placed the order for the breakfast we had decided on the night before. I smiled to acknowledge this...knowing full well I had no memory of discussing breakfast, much less debating on an actual order.

"Now get in the shower, you're due in the spa in an hour."

I was?

After my shower, I pulled on a robe that I would have sworn was about 2 inches thick and joined him in the dining area of our room, which of course we had and of course now was featuring the Eggs Benedict I had apparently decided on the night before.

At least it sounded like me...there was even extra hollandaise.

Afterwards, still in the abnormally thick robe, I shuffled down to the spa, where I learned I had a massage and a mani/pedi scheduled. News to me, but never being the type of person who turns down either of these things, I smiled. Again, frantically taking pictures in my mind and alternately acting as if this was just another day.

Over the next 24 hours, I continually added to the list of "things I had never done before." Order a $300 steak as an entree? Check.  Have a variety of dresses/shoes and accessory options brought to my room, choose which one I liked and wear it out the door? More fun than I gave it credit for. Be ushered out of a stretch limo, past a line of waiting people and behind the velvet rope of a Vegas club. Done. Sipped drinks with a few Playboy centerfolds and discuss favorite kinds of candy? Complete.

The images of the weekend played through my head on the flight back...I realized no one would believe me and I took no pictures the entire weekend. I had told a total of one person where I was and under the pain of death was she to disclose my whereabouts. It was 2005, I didn't even take my cellphone.

There are honestly only a few pictures I wish existed from that weekend. Mostly, I'm glad it's featured only in my memory. It lives in there as a very happy memory from an otherwise sad time. It served as a new starting point for me and a reminder that good times would still be had.

...and it was one hell of a third date.

I'm tired...

I am tired...

I'm tired of saying yes, when I want to say no to plans and I'm tired of feeling bad when what I'd rather do is lay on my couch, wrapped up in my ugly chenille blanket and sweat pants and watch whatever TV show I'm binge watching. I'm tired of apologizing that I don't feel like going to your social event because I'm feeling a little anti-social right now and I really just want to watch the West Wing...yes...again.

I'm tired of being told that because I don't have kids I can't possibly know what real love is or real tired is or real fulfillment is. Guess what...not everyone sees kids and a house in the burbs as being aspirational. We all aspire differently.

And for goddsakes, please stop telling me that when I "meet the right person" I'll suddenly want kids. I'll leave room for that to happen, but serious consideration should be taken into account that in 36 years I've never longed for kids, years ago, I thought i had to have them and that when they came along, i'd be ready for them. Life changed and i realized that I didn't have to have kids and it came with an overwhelming feeling of relief. I'm tired of being told I'd be an awesome mom. Maybe I would be? Who knows. But I'm tired people acting like offspring should be my destination...it might not even be part of my journey. (Unless it's THE OFFSPRING, the band, and then they can be both my destination and my journey, as I rarely tire of that band.)

I'm tired having to stay on my toes when I'm talking to a guy and deflect all their annoying sexually laced comments with grace. It's impolite to tell someone to fuck off, but I find myself wanting to say it often. I don't really care about your apartment with the amazing view or your "toys"...do you have actual interests? Past trying to get me to sleep with you, do you have interests? Do you have friends? Do you have someone in the world who will tell you to stop being so damn creepy?

On that note, I'm tired of having to pretend I don't like someone I do, because of this whole "chase" mentality. You can't act like you like someone, or they will stop liking you and you best not admit that what you want is a boyfriend. Kiss of death. Act like you like someone, that you actually have a vested interest in spending time with them.

Apologize when you are wrong, quickest way I know to get someone to never speak to again.

I'm tired of wearing heels. They hurt my feet and any girl who says that they are not is a fucking liar.

I'm tired of having three bites of pizza when I want to have the whole goddamn thing, of laughing at jokes that aren't funny and having to wear eyeliner every night. I want some nights off from eyeliner wearing and to rock kicks on a date. I want to only wear heels and eyeliner for important occasions.