April 13, 2007
I added a new segment to my morning routine. After bypassing the Owings Mills Dunkin Donuts for so long, I've padded my A.M. to include the savory pit-stop. It's a win win situation. I figure if I stop before work rather than go during, I save myself the lackluster drive sans hot coffee beverage, the time away from my desk, and most importantly, the fear of falling flat on my face on Calvert Street again.
I see the same people every morning. The young guy at the middle table by the window, always surrounded by books, facing the wall, with his "Great One" coffee in front of him within fingertip reach. I see the very talkative man who is always crossing Reisterstown Road to get his morning fix right around the time I park to get mine. The two older men, likely retired, that must meet there for "away from wife" time every morning at 7 am sharp. Anyway, there's a similarity between my new Dunkin pals. Unlike me, who gets to the counter, says "Good morning, extra large blueberry light cream no sugar please," and then pays my $1.98 after being rung up, these others never even speak to the ringer-uppers. They just get rung up, and handed their "usual."
I know there are downfalls to having a usual. I remember this happened to me once back in the day...where I'd walk in to what used to be my favorite bar, The North Star, and Bobby the New York bartender would have a Bud Light bottle on the edge of the bar for me...which was great until May hit and I was ready to start drinking a Corona. I never had a beer waiting at the end of the bar for me again.
Even so, I want a usual at Dunks. What will it take? Do I need to simplify my order? Am I too complicated since I hold the sugar and cut the cream? Or is it the unlikely blueberry flavoring that throws off the Mr. and Miss behind the counter? Will there ever come a day that my unusual usual is just the usual? And if and when that day comes, I can't help but wonder, will my usual have become my usual-ly?
Friday, April 13, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Silly Rabbit, I Like Bunnies Too
April 5, 2007
Not only do Jews not get Easter baskets, but Easter just so happens to fall in the middle of a Jewish holiday this year...Passover, the week where the South Beach Diet becomes a requirement, and not my own choice.
Easter baskets, easter egg dying, and easter egg hunts...these are the things that that my coworkers and friends got to experience when growing up. For me, all that gets "hunted" on Passover is a piece of matzoh...a giant tasteless cracker. Who even wants that? The jews disguise the boring-ness of this by calling it something fancy, the Afikomen, and unfairly lead you to believe that this is dessert. And then, whoever finds it gets $5, or some other type of inadequate prize. In my family, the cut-off age for the prize seems to be whatever age I am that year. Somehow, I got booted out of all the fun things when I matured enough to make my own $5 with a work permit.
I excitedly have been talking about the Bunny Bananzoo EGGgstravaganza happening this weekend at the Maryland Zoo, hoping someone would aay "YES LET'S GO!" But no, everyone is easter egg'd out, or, too busy with fancy family dinners to celebrate the close to the Cadbury season, alongside of their very own private EGGstravaganza. No one understands my urge to participate in such a fun holiday. Spoiled brats.
First, I get jipped out of a stocking, and now this. However, this past year, I made do with my pre-lit Wal-Mart tree for Christmas. This could just be the year that I'll go ahead and order (make) myself an Easter basket from Delish and deliver it to myself at work when no one is looking. A secret admirer? How nice!
Not only do Jews not get Easter baskets, but Easter just so happens to fall in the middle of a Jewish holiday this year...Passover, the week where the South Beach Diet becomes a requirement, and not my own choice.
Easter baskets, easter egg dying, and easter egg hunts...these are the things that that my coworkers and friends got to experience when growing up. For me, all that gets "hunted" on Passover is a piece of matzoh...a giant tasteless cracker. Who even wants that? The jews disguise the boring-ness of this by calling it something fancy, the Afikomen, and unfairly lead you to believe that this is dessert. And then, whoever finds it gets $5, or some other type of inadequate prize. In my family, the cut-off age for the prize seems to be whatever age I am that year. Somehow, I got booted out of all the fun things when I matured enough to make my own $5 with a work permit.
I excitedly have been talking about the Bunny Bananzoo EGGgstravaganza happening this weekend at the Maryland Zoo, hoping someone would aay "YES LET'S GO!" But no, everyone is easter egg'd out, or, too busy with fancy family dinners to celebrate the close to the Cadbury season, alongside of their very own private EGGstravaganza. No one understands my urge to participate in such a fun holiday. Spoiled brats.
First, I get jipped out of a stocking, and now this. However, this past year, I made do with my pre-lit Wal-Mart tree for Christmas. This could just be the year that I'll go ahead and order (make) myself an Easter basket from Delish and deliver it to myself at work when no one is looking. A secret admirer? How nice!
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
ACE in the Hole
April 4, 2007
Sometimes I wonder why I'm so stupid. Not even in a flaky "I don't get it" kind of way. But actually just stupid. Uneducated. Lacking knowledge. Unable to carry an educated conversation about history, politics, or current events.
Every week, team ACES (often under a different yet clever alias because certain people on my team think they're funny) goes to trivia in attempt to win it all. We spend four hours racking our brains in attempt to take the grand prize of $25 and ABSOLUT paraphanelia home.
And, every week, I hear questions that everyone else (with the exception of my team) seems to know answers to, and I realize that I should have cracked a textbook back in the day.
My mom always said if I applied myself, I'd be a straight A student, and in retrospect, I think she's probably right. But, I made it through school, no question. I was a solid A/B occasional C student, and had no trouble getting into college with 5 applications and 5 acceptions. But, on the latter side, I can't label a map, talk about past presidents, or identify the year of the Cold War (except now I can because I just Googled it.) People at work called me "Canada" for a while because of a slight mishap/miscommunication about where I thought it was located. And last night at trivia, me and someone (I won't mention her name for privacy purposes) decided that the number one coffee producing country was Hawaii.
In the end though, ACES usually ends up on top. So I may not be smarter than the average bear, but quick thinking and common sense does get me pretty far. And I sometimes can pull out the knowledge. My claim to fame at trivia was knowing the answer to: What's the only 2 syllable word in the English language using no real vowels? Do you know?
Sometimes I wonder why I'm so stupid. Not even in a flaky "I don't get it" kind of way. But actually just stupid. Uneducated. Lacking knowledge. Unable to carry an educated conversation about history, politics, or current events.
Every week, team ACES (often under a different yet clever alias because certain people on my team think they're funny) goes to trivia in attempt to win it all. We spend four hours racking our brains in attempt to take the grand prize of $25 and ABSOLUT paraphanelia home.
And, every week, I hear questions that everyone else (with the exception of my team) seems to know answers to, and I realize that I should have cracked a textbook back in the day.
My mom always said if I applied myself, I'd be a straight A student, and in retrospect, I think she's probably right. But, I made it through school, no question. I was a solid A/B occasional C student, and had no trouble getting into college with 5 applications and 5 acceptions. But, on the latter side, I can't label a map, talk about past presidents, or identify the year of the Cold War (except now I can because I just Googled it.) People at work called me "Canada" for a while because of a slight mishap/miscommunication about where I thought it was located. And last night at trivia, me and someone (I won't mention her name for privacy purposes) decided that the number one coffee producing country was Hawaii.
In the end though, ACES usually ends up on top. So I may not be smarter than the average bear, but quick thinking and common sense does get me pretty far. And I sometimes can pull out the knowledge. My claim to fame at trivia was knowing the answer to: What's the only 2 syllable word in the English language using no real vowels? Do you know?
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
My Big Fat Jewish Seder
April 3, 2007
First things first, Happy Birthday Annie, Jesse, and any other April birthdays that might be coming up. Happy Passover, Easter, and any other holidays that might be coming up. Perhaps, if people think they will get shout-outs on my blog, they will actually start to stop by and read them. My aplogies to all prior bdays and holidays that did not receive shout outs themselves. Happy all of those things to all of you.
Back to Passover though. Last night, as we annually do, my close family (reaching 20 in numbers last night) gathered for dinner (or more specifically, the Passover seder) at my grandparents house. As you might imagine, dinner with my family is never boring, never quiet, and never ever normal. A quote, straight out of an email from my aunt that I got this morning..."Brad got in the car last night and announced that we are seriously dysfunctional. I have to agree."
Let's go around the table. At the far right end of the table, we have the "cousins." I have since graduated to the adult part of the table, but this is where I used to park for all family affairs. But, nonetheless, the rest of the cousins still get assigned here. First, meet the 6-year old, who last week, decided that Pottery Barn was a ripoff, and last night, decided it was time that she learned to knit. Then, there's the product of growing up along side of me, the 19 almost 20 year old college student, who thinks everyone has "issues", that relationships are a waste of time, and that marriage/children are out of the question. It is super fun for me, however, to hear how my stories have influenced him, and to take a breather as the attention shifts to his love life and not mine. Throw in the other cousins who can't sit still, or get through 5 minutes without whining or even crying, you get the first part of a circus act.
The middle of the table is filled by the aunts and uncles. This is the area of the table where the dinner conversation always switches from Israeli freedom to sex, and "sarcastic" analogies between slavery and marriage, and the awkward comparison between public and private schools make it so you can cut the tension with a butter knife.
To the far left sit my grandparents. At nearly 80, you wouldn't know it (my grandmother has less lines around her eyes than I do.) Talk about opposites attract...try polar opposites. Married over 50 years, 4 children, and 9 grandchildren later, they still share a bed. Last night was no different than any other night in there house. Women in the kitchen, men at the table, and my grandfather driving everyone out the door. After we were all yelled as he tried to uncover the culprit who turned on the AC when he had windows open, the 7 bottles of wine we started with at the beginning of dinner became 7 empty bottles pretty freaking quickly.
Conversations ran a muck, and as per usual, when questioned about my "dating-life", I laughed. See, with me, its not "meet the parents" anymore, it's "meet the family". Picture "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" with more bleeping. And I just don't feel sad that I am safely avoiding this so far...I just wait for the day that I decide to bring a date to dinner. I will have to forwarn and potentially ask for forgiveness after, about whatever unfiltered things get said during the break between matzoh ball soup and gefilte fish.
Seriously, how did I end up so normal?
First things first, Happy Birthday Annie, Jesse, and any other April birthdays that might be coming up. Happy Passover, Easter, and any other holidays that might be coming up. Perhaps, if people think they will get shout-outs on my blog, they will actually start to stop by and read them. My aplogies to all prior bdays and holidays that did not receive shout outs themselves. Happy all of those things to all of you.
Back to Passover though. Last night, as we annually do, my close family (reaching 20 in numbers last night) gathered for dinner (or more specifically, the Passover seder) at my grandparents house. As you might imagine, dinner with my family is never boring, never quiet, and never ever normal. A quote, straight out of an email from my aunt that I got this morning..."Brad got in the car last night and announced that we are seriously dysfunctional. I have to agree."
Let's go around the table. At the far right end of the table, we have the "cousins." I have since graduated to the adult part of the table, but this is where I used to park for all family affairs. But, nonetheless, the rest of the cousins still get assigned here. First, meet the 6-year old, who last week, decided that Pottery Barn was a ripoff, and last night, decided it was time that she learned to knit. Then, there's the product of growing up along side of me, the 19 almost 20 year old college student, who thinks everyone has "issues", that relationships are a waste of time, and that marriage/children are out of the question. It is super fun for me, however, to hear how my stories have influenced him, and to take a breather as the attention shifts to his love life and not mine. Throw in the other cousins who can't sit still, or get through 5 minutes without whining or even crying, you get the first part of a circus act.
The middle of the table is filled by the aunts and uncles. This is the area of the table where the dinner conversation always switches from Israeli freedom to sex, and "sarcastic" analogies between slavery and marriage, and the awkward comparison between public and private schools make it so you can cut the tension with a butter knife.
To the far left sit my grandparents. At nearly 80, you wouldn't know it (my grandmother has less lines around her eyes than I do.) Talk about opposites attract...try polar opposites. Married over 50 years, 4 children, and 9 grandchildren later, they still share a bed. Last night was no different than any other night in there house. Women in the kitchen, men at the table, and my grandfather driving everyone out the door. After we were all yelled as he tried to uncover the culprit who turned on the AC when he had windows open, the 7 bottles of wine we started with at the beginning of dinner became 7 empty bottles pretty freaking quickly.
Conversations ran a muck, and as per usual, when questioned about my "dating-life", I laughed. See, with me, its not "meet the parents" anymore, it's "meet the family". Picture "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" with more bleeping. And I just don't feel sad that I am safely avoiding this so far...I just wait for the day that I decide to bring a date to dinner. I will have to forwarn and potentially ask for forgiveness after, about whatever unfiltered things get said during the break between matzoh ball soup and gefilte fish.
Seriously, how did I end up so normal?
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