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Looks like I quit my favorite vice before this side effect decided to rear its ugly head.

And Then...

Today has been one of those days. You know the kind. The ones that happen when you absolutely do not have the time, desire, or patience to deal with incident after bloody incident, each topping the other with its perplexities and outlandish happenings.

This is what I get for going out last night instead of staying in tending to preparations for my forthcoming trip. The Cosmos is getting back at me.

Cosmos, I soooo hope you enjoyed the copious laughs you got at my expense today.

It started with that great big pile of work that I could barely make a dent in despite 11 hours of non-stop trying.

And then...there was that collection agency on my ass for medical bills from the summer. Seriously, how is it that when the insurance agency (to whom I pay good money) and the doctor's (who accept said insurance for which I pay well) cannot come to any agreement (it's beyond me why exactly), they turn to the patient with an "oh well, we give up; your deal now" attitude?! Might I remind the Cosmos: This is getting old. You have been laughing at this since August. I think we need to wrap this up and move on.

And then...there was that call from the mortgage company advising payment problems. Who knew they called so late? Who knew they also have such nice workers. I spoke to three differerent people three different time in a 45 minute period and all three were very nice and helpful and calm--even when I totally lost it (perhaps more than once but less than three time). Kudos, Bank of America.

And then...I learned that check I mailed for my mortgage payment just never made it to its intended destination. Damn the USPS. (And yes, I will not be using your service for these payments again)

And then...I had to stop payment on the aforementioned check and now must deal with getting new payment in to the mortgage people before they decide to not be so nice to me anymore.

And then...I needed to actually set my mind to my trip.

But at this point, I'm unmotivated and exhausted and am honestly laughing because if I don't laugh I will cry. A lot. When it rains it pours and today I got drenched.

Luckily, I am trying my darndest to channel one of my favorite heroines to lift my spirits and pull me out of the dumps. Oh, Scarlett, yes, tomorrow is another day!

And what a day it will be! I'm working from home; I can make all of the necessary calls to clear up the cosmos' big crappy jokes; and, I can even do lunch with old co-workers before leaving for...wait for it...Italy. I'm so very excited about that even if it does include a week's worth of work before only a tiny bit of vacation. I'll be with some fantastic people in a country I've only dreamed of visiting (such a long time coming, I'd say) and life will be very, very good. That trip alone is enough to make me scoff at the other issues from today.

Pshaw indeed. Take that, Cosmos.

Nothing Stays the Same

Nearly 8 years ago, I met a really incredible person based almost entirely on a dare. Our conversation was never supposed to last more than 10 minutes. We were never really supposed to get to know each other. We certainly never expected that 8 years later we would still be in each others lives. Yet that's the case.

We used to think that was pretty incredible. We used to think we beat the odds in some way and that our friendship was something pretty special.

Somewhere in the past 8 years, we went from dare to dating to amazing friends (oftentimes with benefits). During that time, we went from the incredibly fun getting-to-know-you period to the god-we-might-as-well-be-an-old-married-couple comfortable-ness. More than anything, we are great friends.

He loves me. I love him. Neither of us are or ever have been in love with each other. And that probably explains how we, seemingly effortlessly, have made this last so long.

If I could chart our highs and lows, I would see that we have slowly been on a downhill turn. Our relationship, the one we didn't intentionally mean to build, has slowly been crumbling and I fear the end of what we have known for nearly 8 years is upon us.

It's the little things that tell me that. I know he sees it, too. It scares him. He's eluded to as much. It scares me, too. He has no idea. Perhaps it's a phase. And that would be nice. But I think I know what is coming. It's really only a matter of time. Even if we remain friends on some level, it won't be the same. Nothing really ever is.

Dabbling in Domesticity

So there have been these monthly dinner parties--the gatherings of the Jeunesse Doree, as we not-so-humbly refer to ourselves. One tends to be more extravagant than the next. And this month it is my turn to host the evening.

If you just had a sinking feeling and uttered "uh-oh," then we're totally on the same page. I had that same reaction a month ago. But I'm telling you, I've gotten better in the past 11 months, and I really felt up for the challenge this month. I've really been venturing into the whole domestic thing, and though I am far from a natural, I'm taking many things in stride (rather than freak out or throw in the towel and order take out).

So much so that I am actually laughing to myself at how I have let Friday's dinner party spin so out of control. First sign that something will become crazed: there is a theme. Yes, a theme. Early St. Joseph's Table. And for those that haven't a clue what that is, it's basically a toned down, Italian version of St. Patrick's Day. It gets nary a bit of recognition because it's trumped by the Irish feast day with it's miniscule man with a pot of gold and green beer. (I completely understand, by the way) Anyway, the Irish have their corned beef and cabbage and potatoes and beer and whiskey. The St. Joseph's Table is about pasta and fish and sweets and wine. I can so handle it.

In preparation, I have had to bring in a folding table and chairs (because I don't have enough table room or chairs). I have more wine than I know what to do with (Ok, that's just an outright exaggeration) plus what I have requested of some guests. There will be amazing appetizers including some fine imported Italian cheeses, a fantastic antipasto tray (meatless due to Lent), shrimp, and mini caprese's-on-a-stick. I have two trays of home-made lasagna, home-made marinara sauce, and will make a big salad. Add fresh crusty bread, and that is the main course. And then, the topper, dessert: mini cannolis and mini cream puffs from the most fantastic Italian bakery that my family has been frequenting since my mother was a kid. And party favors: Italian cookies.

I'm so proud of my menu. I'm so proud that nearly everything has been prepped. I am looking around my place right now thinking, "You're awesome. But you're putting off the really big thing." Yup, I really need to clean. Soooo badly. That's the last task. The hardest one. Surely the least desirable one.

I'm thrilled to host the dinner party. It will no doubt be awesome. We're going for karaoke afterwards, which will most likely be hysterically funny. And really, I'll be happiest when Saturday morning dawns. The preparations the past few nights have exhausted me! Luckily, I won't have to duplicate and/or top this extravaganza for another five months. No worries. Full on-set domesticity has not set in.

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In other news, tonight was a big wash for home projects. I couldn't get any cleaning (or anything else for that matter) done because of the loooooong conference call with the Chinese followed by a lovely little chat with an ex-pat in Hong Kong. I have fulfilled my Asia business call quota for the next two weeks. And am now thoroughly exhausted.

Down with Rosie

There was a time when I liked Rosie. She was never my favorite comic or talk show personality, but I got a kick out of her in "A League of Their Own" and the early years of her talk show had their humorous moments.

And then the broad got all entitled, and her high and mighty self started to get real annoying real quick.

And that's when I washed my hands clean of anything to do with her. No reading her [now defunct] magazine, no watching her [now defunct] talk show, and no caring about anything she said or did.

For awhile that was hard since she was still everywhere, getting louder and more ornery by the day. And then she dropped off the face of the Earth and life was quiet. Occasionally there would be the odd Lifestyle section article about her and her gay family cruise launch, and I let that slide because it seemed as though maybe she was making a turnaround. And doing good things for alternative families. And that's good and that's why I thought maybe she was settling down.

Oh, how wrong I was...

Then she joined The View. (This was, of course, after the debacle that was her Broadway producing career. If Boy George was involved, what made her think it was a good project? Maybe in 1981, but not in the 00's) And her big, loud, obnoxious mouth went spouting off about stuff she didn't know anything about relating to Donald Trump. And he got all pissy and I hope he does sue her ass. Now, anyone who knows me well knows I'm not a huge Trump fan by any means, but he was entitled to go off on her. She slandered his (good?) name. She deserves what she's getting. She fabricated and/or exaggerated "truths" and that got her in trouble. I'd feel bad, but we all know it's not the right thing to do. So there.

And then, I heard the latest altercation on "The View." And that did it for me. I flew into a blind rage. I officially hate her.

So, she and her cohort Joy berated (well, really, forcefully harassed) Elisabeth Hasselbeck about her political beliefs. Asking repeatedly how she could support our current administration. Offering up the latest accounts about the casualties (and injuries) in Iraq, The lies. The secrets. Why? Why? Why???? As though Elisabeth is GW's right hand gal. She's a conservative and proud of it. But she isn't part of the inner circle, so get off her back.

Like it or hate it, the girl has conviction. She's proud of those convinctions. I respect that. Just because you or I or that hateful Rosie don't agree doesn't make her wrong. And that's where Rosie went way over the top.

When discussing who she will vote for in the '08 elections, Elisabeth made a sound and well-voiced comment regarding how she will select which candidate to back, which included researching their views from every angle. And that's every candidate, not just the conservative ones. And only then would she make her decision. As she said, we (as free-thinking Americans) need to look at the upcoming elections and the candidates with a keen eye and make a sound decision for the future, as who is elected can likely change the course of our security and place in the world for many decades to come. I couldn't agree more.

But see, that's the thing about opinions and Rosie. You're allowed to have one unless Rosie disagrees with you. Otherwise, she will call you and your opinions ignorant and immature and advise you that she is beating up on you until you become older and wiser and think like her. Which is essentially what she told Elisabeth. I was so in shock I was screaming to the walls. That's pretty ballsy. And pretty over the top. And entirely unnecessary. And so incredibly wrong.

It is her way or the highway, and I hate that. If she could speak in a normal tone of voice without being belittling and sarcastic and mean-spirited and downright bitchy, then I would say she, too, is voicing her opinion. But she's not. She's a bully. A big, mean, bitchy bully. And no one likes that

As a role model for women- young and old- she has done a horrible thing. She has endorsed fighting over rational discussion. She has endorsed belittling opinions that are not her own. She has basically put her stamp on communism. I wish she would move to one of those countries. They'd like her if she spouted out their party line. And if she didn't, they'd throw her in the clink and no one would hear from her again.

So, this is MY opinion. And I'm entitled to it. Just as you're entitled to your own. And that's Ok.