There's an App for That

Six of the most annoying words in the English vocabulary:

COULD NOT ACTIVATE CELLULAR DATA NETWORK

I am unabashedly, unequivocally IN LOVE with my iPhone. That's right, iHeart my iPhone. Despite what that "other company" says about AT&T's dead zones, or lack of service area (or whatever they're calling it in their ads this week), I rarely have issues connecting to the server. And my phone is now over a year old, rendering it antiquated and nearly obsolete in the world of cellular electronics.

That, my friends, is what makes the last hour of my time with my beloved smart phone so completely frustrating. I was away from my PC for a mere hour and a half, and felt completely lost (that kind of says something about me, doesn't it?). Don't get me wrong, I can float away from cyberspace (with only slight detoxing side effects) for hours and hours, but this weekend, I will be leaving Big Daddy and the kids to fend for themselves for four days, so there are many a plan to be finalized and all that. This is no time to be unplugged. Unnecessary anxiety has set in.

What's wrong with my phone? What if it's broken. What if I don't have a phone over my weekend away?

I have tried to connect no less than 1,000,000,000 times over the past hour and five minutes, with those same God-awful words popping up every time.

Let me try to distract myself with something else.....

You know how, "they got an app for that?" Most (all) of my apps are FOC, just because I don't have time or $$ to invest in the fancy stuff. Many would accuse me of not fully reaching my iPhone potential. Call me a simpleton. I still have my favorites. Here are some top-billed (free) apps in Aleighopolis:

Words Free (Words With Friends) - my new favorite. My Sis-in-Law got me started in this virtual scrabble game, and now we're in constant battle - me in Philly, she in Ft. Worth. She and my nephew are the only people I engage in wordplay with, and I have yet to win a game. Although, I have to say, I WAS winning one round, and mysteriously, it disappeared. Never to be heard from again. I smell hijinks (which would make a kick-ass triple word play).



ESPN ScoreCenter - most fervently used during the fall to keep track of the Indianapolis Colts and the Philadelphia Phillies post-season play.

Shazam - musical voodoo at the touch of a screen.

Notes & Voice Memos - great for quick citations. Remember when we used to have to write notes on paper?!? How archaic!

I realize these aren't the most titillating of iPhone applications, but they serve me well on a day to day basis (and I suppose I would be remiss to leave off facebook mobile for obvioso reasons). If you want apps that would incite a riot (or at the very least, make a middle-aged mama squeal with delight), how about creating one of these:


The Carpool - At the tap of your screen, coordinate with your entire contact list to determine who could drive whom when and where, thus avoiding endless emails, texts, and phone calls with said network.



Copperfield Dinner - type in your random on-hand ingredients (mine would read 2 cans of chicken, a sleeve of saltines, a jar of green olives and ranch dressing), and feast your eyes on a delectable gourmet recipe, complete with calorie, fat, and carb count.

Personal Trainer (from Hades) - This app would work on an interval training schedule, alerting you to various cardio and strength-training feats throughout your day. One may find themselves shopping in Target, when "Personal Trainer" demands they "drop and give him two sets of ten!"


Extraordinary Excuses - Keep this one on page one for quick reference when asked to chair the next fundraising event at your child's school.

Grocery Getter - This app acts as a liason between you and your favorite, local supermarket. You input your grocery list and debit card info, and the store has everything grabbed off the shelves, bagged in recycled totes, and waiting for you curbside as you do a food drive-by.

And how about one more....

Because I'm the Mom! - this would be random comebacks to your children's most annoying questions and requests.

Tween Daughter: Mom! Why can't I go to the Katy Perry concert?

Because I'm the Mom: Because I said so!

Wait - I could create that one myself on my voice memo app!

So what's your favorite app? What's your dream app?

By the way....crisis averted. Very few iPhone problems CAN'T be fixed by simply turning it off and turning it back on.

Kind of like Big Daddy.

Flashback Friday: I am an Extrovert. Deal With It.

FYI, my MO is to OA (over-analyze). Oh...you noticed? Yeah, I know. This week's posts have been a tad dramatic, eh? A little lame. Self-absorbed, even. Humor me a smidge longer. It's time for (cue the reverb) FLASHBACK FRIDAY!!!




Back in the fall of 1992, Big Daddy and I were engaged to be married. Just a couple of crazy kids in love....fresh out of college...starting our careers...ready to take on the world. We were being married in the Catholic Church, and therefore, participated in Pre-Cana classes with the priest.





"Slick"ipedia has this to say about Pre-Cana:

"Pre-Cana is a course or consultation Catholic couples must undergo before they can be married in a Catholic church. The name is derived from John 2:1-12, the wedding feast at Cana in Galilee, where Jesus performed the miracle of turning water into wine."

(oh, that's kinda cool. see, even God knows a good marriage requires good wine.)


"Approaches to Pre-Cana vary among Catholic dioceses and parishes. Often six weekly sessions will be led by a priest or deacon with support from a married Catholic couple. Common topics include: compatibility of the couple, basic principles of Catholic marriage and family life (namely theological meaning of marriage), conflict resolution within marriage, rules the couple are expected to follow."

So, fine. Topics included child-bearing and child-rearing, finances, gender roles, etc. For the most part, Big Daddy and I were on the same page. No big surprises. But the most valuable part of the 6-week course proved incredibly insightful.

Father Bob: A, would you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert?

Me: Have you MET me?

Father Bob: Right, you're an extrovert. And you (turning to Big Daddy) would consider yourself an introvert, am I right?

Big Daddy: Yes.

Father Bob: So what do you think that means?

Me: Is this a trick question? I'm more outgoing and social. Big Daddy is more reserved and shy in big crowds.

Father Bob: It can mean that, yes. But what you REALLY need to remember as a married couple is that you, as an extrovert, make decisions EXTERNALLY. You need to talk your way to an answer. You pose both sides (or many sides) to the question before coming to a conclusion. And you (Big Daddy), as an introvert, INTERNALIZE everything quietly before reaching your conclusion. And then, and only then, will you give an answer.

Me: (squints eyes) Uh-huh.....so who's right?

Of course, Father Bob went on to explain that neither is right or wrong, but that it would be necessary to remember this as we navigated through life as a couple. He warned me not to get frustrated and think that Big Daddy wasn't listening to me just because he wasn't chiming in. And he explained to Big Daddy that as I'm working through my problem, it's not his duty to solve the problem or come to the conclusion FOR ME and blurt it out definitively at the end. Indeed, I may still be talking my way through the issue. Good advice. We still remind ourselves of this lesson often.

Do you see where I'm going with this? This week's posts have been my "out loud decision-making 'to blog or not to blog' extrovert-on-crack-kind of discussion. I've written about my personal hang-ups, discomforts, and even annoyances in the Land of Blog. And judging by the public and private messages I've received on the subject, it seems I'm not the only one who views those traveling awards as the blogosphere's equivalent of an e-mail forward promising that your wish will come true by morning if you just say the prayer and forward to seventy-two of your closest friends in the next three and a half minutes. But if you don't, you will have fourteen years of bad luck. And you will never get a book deal. And your dog will die. But for the most part, bloggers pass those awards on. To be nice. And because they want to be published. And they don't want their dogs to die.

More flashback:

Sonny Crockett: Are you going somewhere with this or just running laps?

Me: Thanks for asking, Sonny. It seems even though I haven't declared who I am as a blogger, or proposed a purpose in my writing, I have filled a niche of sorts. Many of you from the beginning have encouraged me to keep blogging. And this week your words have been especially kind. Thankfully, those who don't care for my writing haven't told me to bug off. There's really no need for that in the blogosphere. If one finds Aleighopolis a bore, a snore, or a chore (like this week), they can simply split town and never return. And for those of you who do enjoy visiting...as always...we'll leave the light on for ya.


p.s. Father O' would be doubled over in pain that I used Wikipedia as a source for Pre-Cana rather than the Catechism of the Catholic Church. My quick 1am search for the Catechism online resulted in nada.

My Mayonnaise Jar Runneth Over

Often times when people find out that I have a blog, they respond with one question:

Them: Who has time to blog?

Me: Uh.....

I'm sure they mean no offense, but truth be told, it feels like an insult rather than a question. It seems to imply that I have nothing better to do with my time. That I'm not as busy with life as them. Or that I choose to waste my time on meaningless rants and raves while they do much more worthwhile things - like watch reality television or shop. Not that those things aren't incredibly important.



I mean, God forbid we put Snooki and "The Situation," out of work due to poor ratings. And certainly we can all do our part to ignite this country's sagging economy by purchasing last year's Coach wristlet from the Poppy Collection at your nearest outlet store.

For most, discretionary time is a luxury. Those minutes come few and far between. And how one chooses to fill that time is their business - and they should own it. When people ask me why I blog, or what I blog about, I tell them it's a creative outlet for me. As my facebook page states:

"Apparently, couldn't get enough of myself on facebook, so I started a blog. How original."

I like to share. Sue me. Some people get a kick out of me. Sue them. Some people don't give a crap what I have to say. Screw them. I mean - c'est la vie (even though it doesn't rhyme).

My time to blog is usually late at night, after the kids are in bed, and often times when Big Daddy is out of town on business. In fact, that is EXACTLY why I have not been spending time in Aleighopolis, or on anyone else's blog site lately. Because Big Daddy has been home for two straight weeks. Not straight like, 24-hours a day; but fourteen straight days of no business travel. And no business trips again this week. I don't think he's spent three straight weeks in his office since we moved here over two years ago. I am enjoying turning the computer off by 10pm and spending some QT with Big Daddy. See how one must sometimes choose between leisure time activities (when in doubt, always choose your big daddy).

I have missed Aleighopolis. I have missed the other blogs that I visit often. I hope to get caught up this week, all the while remembering the story of The Mayonnaise Jar. Thanks to my friend, K, for sending this to me recently. Words to live by. (you know what other words you can live by? words like snooki and poppy. those are fun words. that's why i blog)



The Mayonnaise Jar

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle,
When 24 hours in a day is not enough;
remember the mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class
and had some items in front of him.

When the class began, wordlessly,
he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar
and start to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured
it into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.
The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.
He then asked the students again
if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand
and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else
He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded
With an unanimous 'yes.'

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table
and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively
filling the empty space between the sand.
The students laughed.

'Now,' said the professor, as the laughter subsided,
'I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.

The golf balls are the important things - God, family,
children, health, friends, and favorite passions
Things that if everything else was lost
and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the things that matter like your job, house, and car.

The sand is everything else --
The small stuff..

'If you put the sand into the jar first,' he continued,
'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff,
You will never have room for the things that are
important to you.

So...

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children.
Take time to get medical checkups.
Take your partner out to dinner.

There will always be time
to clean the house and fix the dripping tap.

'Take care of the golf balls first --
The things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.'

One of the students raised her hand
and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled.

'I'm glad you asked'.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend..'

Amen, Professor. Amen.

Color Me Coral

I have absolutely no time for anything today, other than teaching my three Zumba classes and preparing for my daughter's Confirmation on Friday night.

So, I shall blog about ZuZu's Confirmation! (don't tell Big Daddy I'm blogging today. he'll start his speech about time management again)

Family will be arriving from the midwest in approximately 27 hours to witness and celebrate my daughter's Confirmation, a sacrament in the Catholic Church. The introduction to the Rite of Confirmation states:

"by the sacrament of Confirmation, (the baptized) are more perfectly bound to the Church and are enriched with a special strength of the Holy Spirit. Hence they are, as true witnesses of Christ, more strictly obliged to spread and defend the faith by word and deed."

In other words....MY LITTLE GIRL IS ALL GROWN UP!

It seems like it was just yesterday that we were cutting lace and trim off of my wedding gown and detachable train to embellish her First Communion dress. It was four years ago, to the month. Time flies. And without getting too religious or spiritual or philosophical, I'm happy my baby will be aided by the Holy Spirit to get her through this world.

Speaking of dresses....that was our mission last night (yes, three days before said event). We had a backup dress, but it was black. We wanted something more springy and Holy Spiritish. The Holy Spirit would imply red. But CORAL seemed a little more the season.

Behold, the dress of ZuZu:





I know, right?!? So cute! And it pretty much lays on her exactly the way it does on this hanger...slim and straight.


.

And it's got this beautiful little detailing on the hip with this satin bow and rhinestone clasp doohickey. Which is why we MUST find a pair of sandals with rhinestone accents! Of course, a coral pedicure will then be in order. Lucky thing the dress was on sale!









As was the necklace. $2.40 at Boscov's, to be exact. Holla!




















Funny thing hit me as I was propping up the dress for the photo op....coral has been a go-to color for special nights for me and the ladies of my family. My mom found a beautiful coral suit with pearl and rhinestone buttons to wear on my wedding day. I was wearing a stellar coral dress and jacket on the night Big Daddy proposed to me. And now ZuZu will wear it as she professes her faith and experiences a rite of passage (yeah, it will be under a big white robe, but still).

Coral is the color of ocean reefs. Alive and vibrant. Bright and cheerful. Crisp and fresh. And apparently, nostalgic and sentimental.

So other than the whole cleaning the house and washing the linens and stocking the fridge and wrapping the gifts and finding the shoes and meditating on the signifigance of this special day for my daughter - I'm good to go!

Good thing I didn't waste time blogging about something meaningless today. Right, Big Daddy?!?

I'm a member of the BBC (Bookless Book Club)

Twilight is "on demand" (cable-talk), New Moon just came out on DVD, and Eclipse is now running trailers all over the internet. If only Eclipse was in the theater (June 30, 2010 - mark your calendar, girls), we could call it the "Twilight Trifecta." Snub your noses, roll your eyes, spew your coffee if you must, but I AM a Twilight fan. There! I said it! It comes as no surprise to my Bookless Book Club (BBC) - indeed, they are the reason I fell into the vampire's lair.

Soon after moving into my new neighborhood (in my new city, in my new state, in my new region), I decided to start a neighborhood book club (neighborhood, because book club is synonymous with wine club, and the "walking home" option is a must). Everyone was "thumbs up" on the idea. It took awhile to pick a book and get it scheduled, but finally, a few months later, we were having our inaugural Book Club night. I think myself and three others (out of a dozen) actually read the selection. The gracious host did make the effort to purchase the book, but the cash register receipt being used as a bookmark never made it past the first chapter (note to hostess: it sometimes takes more than the first chapter to get to the meat of things).

Four months later we had a Christmas Book Club party (to celebrate all the great works we hadn't read). I brought a bagful of used books to hand out as "goodies," but again, there was more reading of wine labels than anything else that night. As we continued to partake of the vine, someone fancied herself a forward-thinker and made a suggestion:

"How about we watch a movie and then discuss IT at our next get-together?!?"

Inner dialogue: Hmmm...What shall it be....Pride & Prejudice? Atonement? Or something more current, perhaps...like Juno or The Time Traveler's Wife (by the way, snore), or Thank You For Smoking?

Forward-thinker blurts out: "Forgetting Sarah Marshall!!!"


What the - ?? Where do I live? Kappa Kappa Grammar?

The wine-soaked squealed with delight on something light-hearted and comical (not unlike ourselves). I began to wonder if any of the ladies could read anything other than a board book.

We never did see Forgetting Sarah Marshall as a group....although, Big Daddy and I watched it together. It was good for a few laughs, but neither of us felt compelled to delve into a probing discussion after. Just as well the BBC shelved it.

Summer came and went, but my hopes for a true book club, one in which books would be read and discussed, would not die. How could I convince these ladies to open something that wasn't a gossip magazine and had more than 34 pages?!? Hmmm....didn't I hear a couple of them discussing that tween series, Twilight over the summer?

Buffy: It's soo good.

Me: I don't do vampires.

Bella: It's not really about vampires like a horror story, it's more about true love and the gravitational pull to one's soul mate.

Me: Puke. Teen angst AND forbidden love. Even worse.

Seriously, people? Vampires? Eww. Pasty white. Suggestive biting. Fangs and blood. Not interested. But wait!!

I am a sucker (hee-hee, "sucker") for a great theme night. If I chose to host the next month's BBC, which was OCTOBER and all things HALLOWEENY, I could totally vamp it up. And so it was. I ordered wax fang lips from Oriental Trading Crap, stocked up on red wine, and had pomegranate martinis and bloody mary's on stand-by. All I had to do was read the book.

And READ I did!! Morning, noon and night! I totally fell for it. Hook, line, and sink my freakin' teeth into it! A week later, I was on to New Moon, which admittingly, was a bit of a disappointment. Not only because I was firmly planted in Team Edward at this point, but also because Bella perfected her P.I.T.A. * status. Seriously? She figured out Edward was a vampire in two days, but it took her nearly 300 pages to remember the werewolf tale Jacob had told her? Come on Bella (and Stephanie Meyer), you're smarter than that.

Not that it stopped me from digging into Eclipse! Who could resist the youthful, loyal like a puppy (obvi, duh! descendant of the wolf) Jacob Black. Not unlike many of you (and you know who you are), I'm starting to take to him a little more. I'm sure it's because of the deeper character study as he narrates half the book and has nothing to do with the shirtless Taylor Lautner plastered all over the wonderful world of marketing.

Speaking of shirtless (then) minors...Big Daddy doesn't like me elaborating on the boys of Twilight, although I continue to assure him that slight swoons and minor drools are nothing to be threatened by. The truth is, Big Daddy is the best of Team Edward and Team Jacob all wrapped up into one perfect package. He's a Renaissance man like Eddie, able to quote lines and lines of literature (and by literature, I mean movies) and possessing more than a superficial amount of intelligence in the area of science (his paper airplanes continue to amaze me and the kids). He's also hot-blooded like Jake (letting me put my cold feet on his long calves every night when I crawl into bed) and completely loyal (I'm not as pathetic as Bella, but I do have one or two character flaws that Big Daddy continues to overlook and loves me in spite of). Who needs the "just crawled out of bed 'do" and the 12-pack abs?!? I'm Team Big Daddy all the way!

To conclude, the BBC did come prepared for a discussion on Twilight. At that point, I had not yet read the final book (was only able to squeeze in first three in the month before the meeting) - so most of them were ahead of me on the material. Later that fall, we showed book club solidarity as we went to see New Moon in the theater (begrudgingly, they even took a photo in the theater lobby with our wax fangs in, but they'd die if I posted it), and I'm sure we'll be there for Eclipse in full strength this summer.

It's been five months since our last BBC wine tasting. As much as I long for a real book club as opposed to the bookless variety I belong to, I wouldn't trade these neighbors for anything. The gossip-rag reading, let-your-dog-out-while-you're-gone, meals-on-wheels for those in need, let's-order-pizza-on-the-deck, watch-my-kids-in-your-backyard kinda crew I live amongst beats "The Jane Austen Book Club" any day of the week and twice on grill-out Sunday.

End of Story.
_____________________________________________
*Pain In The Ass

Meet the Cast

Perhaps now would be a good time to introduce you to the residents of Aleighopolis. The cast of characters (and I do mean characters) are listed in the order they first appeared in my life.


First and foremost, my husband of almost 17 years. He loves me despite all my flaws. Not that I'm admitting to any. I call him Big Daddy, and if you've ever seen him, you know why. 6'6", broad shoulders and a heart the size of a zamboni. We crack each other up and piss each other off on a daily basis. Co-dependency at it's finest. He's worked for the same company for about a year longer than we've been married (loyal like a pup), and his promotions are the reason behind our many moves. He promises me it will all be worth it one day. I think everyday has been worth it - but don't tell him that. His Catholic guilt is working for me.

ZuZu is our oldest and only daughter. For about 5 minutes, we considered naming her Zuzu Petals "Blahzlahski" (being huge fans of "It's a Wonderful Life" as we are), but who could be that cruel (other than a slew of Hollywood's finest)? Instead, she's always been ZuZu to me, "my little gingersnap" as George Bailey referred to his daughter. ZuZu is teetering on the edge of teendom. She's a little mini-me, cursed with her father's near-sightedness, but blessed with his long, thin and toned legs. Although she looks more like me, her personality is more like Big Daddy's. Reserved and almost shy in big crowds, but a leader and a clown amongst her closest peers. She wishes only good for all people. All people, except her oldest brother.....

Enter Deuce (because "Little Daddy" just ain't right). Born 15 months after ZuZu, and always clipping her heels. Hence, the resentment. I'd feel a little sorry for him if he wasn't such a pot-stirrer on the homefront. He knows how to get in ZuZu's kitchen - and mine. But the truth is, he's an amazing young man. Such a gentleman...always gives his best and excels at everything...rule-follower...good grades...the stuff that annoying Christmas letters are made of. That's my Deuce. He wants to play football for Notre Dame one day. I tell him, don't bother. Go straight into the workforce and make that million by your 21st birthday. It's your destiny! (Translation: we can't afford Notre Dame)

And now, my swan song, MT. He was the easiest baby - almost like he had heard all the commotion in utero and decided, "I'm gonna give this poor lady a break." At nine months, he could keep himself occupied for hours with McDonald's happy meal toys and binder clips. At age nine, he still can. He has a huge imagination and the quickest wit of all of them. He does have a serious temper, though. Big Daddy would say, "If MT is mad at you, sleep with one eye open." We were sure he would find that rusty old axe with the hollow handle and do us in in our sleep. He never did, though. In fact, he's the one that gives the most sincere "sorrys," and the best hugs and kisses as repentence. His cheeks still carry a little baby fat, which I'm so thankful for. I get to plant my lips on those cheeks every night at bedtime. And then I go hide the knives.

Last but not least, our freakin' dog. One late summer day in 2003, Big Daddy and Deuce went to a Notre Dame football game and came home with a puppy. They tried to convince me it was "giveaway day" at the stadium. But I'm no fool. The adorable little mutt looked exactly like the 6-month old I had met a few weeks earlier at our friends' house. The friends who earlier that spring had thought they were losing one of two pet Pomeranians, and had a gorgeous little baby. The same friends who found out, "IT'S A MIRACLE! YOUR DOG IS GOING TO LIVE," and "CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'RE PREGNANT WITH BABY NUMBER 2!" within a week of adopting said pooch. My 4 1/2-year old son was wise beyond his years. He knew he'd hit paydirt. He was skipping town with low-dog on the totem pole. Our Rox. Half toy Poodle, half Chihuahua. He's like a baby poodle on espresso. He's had some work done....but I'll save that story for another day.

So there you have it. My own little party of five plus pooch (Poo-Chi, to be exact). I thought it was fitting to formally introduce them, as I suspect they will make many appearances in Aleighopolis. My husband, my children, my freakin' dog. At any given time, they can be the meaning of my life, or the bane of my existence. But with every heartbeat, they are my world.