Ma'am - I - am

Yes, ma’am.

An insulting insinuation of a woman’s age or an expression of respect used to address any female over the age of 2?

The answer, it seems, depends on where you call home. My first encounter of the first meaning was in college when after a brief conversation with a cashier, my Bostonian friend said with a look of sheer horror, “Did she just call me ma’am?” I soon learned that not only can calling someone “ma’am” be insulting, but calling someone “sir” can sarcastic.

In Texas, we learn to say “please,” “thank you,” “ma’am,” and “sir.” We use this terminology freely around friends, family, and strangers. We use it whether we are talking to people older than we are, to people who are the same age that we are and to people who are younger than we are. And to me, it makes perfect sense that we use the term “ma’am” to get someone’s attention. “Hey!” sounds rude and abrupt. So does “Miss” and “hey lady!” “Excuse me” is too impersonal. Down here, we don’t like to sound rude, abrupt or impersonal. Until they deserve it that is.

So imagine my shock today to read an article in which the author (clearly not from Texas) actually spent $3000 on various dermatologic facial procedures all because she started hearing too many people call her “ma’am!!!”

Here’s what bebe Me has to say to her: Yes, ma’am, all the dermatologists and plastic surgeons in Texas and the deep south would looove you.

Outer Power

I discovered the power of fashion in my life at an early age - the power it has to propel me through gloom, to amplify celebration, to inspire me through creative blocks and to simply bring pleasure to my life every day.

I often hear comments that imply that interest in fashion is some sort of obligation, a rite of passage or even simply a means to a goal. “Oh, yes, I used to keep up with that stuff when I was at that age when it was the thing to do.” Sometimes it is followed by: “…back before I got married. Now I don’t need to impress anybody.” And then there are the implications that paying attention to clothing, hair and make-up is vain, shallow, snooty, only for the wealthy and is surely an indication of insecurity.

I find this perplexing, because for me, fashion is just not any of those things (well, it is a little vain.) Fahion is art. Since I was a little girl, I’ve always dedicated a corner of my thoughts at all times to picturing the pieces of my wardrobe and mentally sorting through all the different combinations of tops, pants, skirts, dresses, shoes, jewelry, purses and belts. Not really because I was trying to maximize my wardrobe, but because it’s a creative outlet. It’s color , lines and texture. It’s mixing things up and keeping things fresh. I do the same with make-up and I do the same with hair.

What is the power in the process of choosing what to wear, which make-up to use and how to style my hair? It gives me something to look forward to every single day when I’m sad. It makes an already special event even more special. When I feel an ebb of creative thoughts, it reassures me that the juices are still flowing somewhere in me. It brings out a strongly opinionated side of my generally open-minded nature as I most recently experienced while watching the 2007 Oscar’s Fashion Police show on E! this year, sometimes wholeheartedly agreeing with the fashion experts and other times jumping up and yelling at the screen about how WRONG these same “experts” were.

This is not a power that comes and goes depending on where I am in life. Sure, the details may change with trends, age and yes, personal budget. But the fulfillment remains the same. For that, I am grateful.

March 6, 2007

What a coincidence that the quote in my day planner is:

The best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time. –Abraham Lincoln

Yesterday, I made a monumental decision regarding my future – choosing between two fantastic graduate programs to attend. Unfortunately, I had less than a week to decide, the last few days being a blur of visiting the schools, talking to as many people as possible and changing my mind every hour, depending on what I was looking at or who I was talking to. My brain hurts.

You would think that a decision would bring some sort of relief, maybe some excitement. But it didn’t. I’m just exhausted and plagued with uncertainty and nagging reminders of what I might be giving up by choosing A instead of B. I know I would’ve regretted not choosing A, but truthfully, I have plenty of regrets over not choosing B. Having two equally good options truly is that cliché, a blessing and a curse. Why then, being the eternal optimist, am I only feeling the curse?

Maybe because the uncertainty of picking one program over another isn’t what’s bothering me the most. Perhaps I hoped that making the decision would somehow eradicate the rest of my original misgivings about going to school in the first place. They are still there.

I haven’t been telling anyone about my decision because I’m just not ready for the responses. "Aren’t you excited?" "Isn’t it great?" "You’ll love it!" "You’re so lucky…I wish I could go back to school." "When are you moving?" And I’m too exhausted to fake it. Because the truth is, I’m not excited right now. So how can it be great? I'm not completely sure that I'll love it. I’m aware of my fortunate circumstances so I feel guilty for not feeling lucky and for not being one of those people who LOVES school. I’m just not one of those people. And even though I put in a lot of time and soul-searching to come to terms with the fact that going back to school is what I want to do, there are still plenty of things about it that I’m not looking forward to. I’m not saying that I don’t want to go. In fact, as much as I’m enjoying my work as an Event Coordinator, it seems more clear every day that I’ve made the right choice. What I’m saying is that I’m not as enthusiastic as I think someone should be after making that right choice.

So I’m grasping for something to pull me out of this funk so that I can celebrate my own excitement and not everyone else’s. I’ll start with the words of Abraham Lincoln. One day at a time.

You Know You Work In Texas when...

you hear the Senior Account Manager in the office next to you on the phone saying, "Oh bless your heart, it's co cold out there. Did you have to go out back and poke holes in the ice so your cattle could drink?"

All in a (14) Day's Work

As I stumbled out of the cab in front of our hotel on the highest point of Bermuda, gasping for fresh air and trying (unsuccessfully) to ignore the queasiness in my stomach from the 25 minute taxi ride along the island’s serpentine road, I was met by what appeared to be a seven foot giant* wearing a suit coat, tie and Bermuda shorts (some sort of island mirage?) and offering me Bermuda’s national cocktail...oh, that dangerously smooth and delicious Dark & Stormy. My single-minded response? "Please, PLEASE, where is the ladies' room?" Clearly, my first hour in Bermuda was anything but indicative of what turned out to be a red-letter two weeks and perhaps, one answer to my previously blogged New Year’s Plea.


How does two weeks of working my arse off to help coordinate a sales training event, where 14 hour days are still too short to finish our work, manage to unravel 10 months worth of the stress-induced tightly wound knots I'd tied myself into? By providing that first illuminating moment we all wait for after a drastic career change: the moment when something clicks and all the pieces (the cryptic jargon, mysterious tasks and puzzling co-worker comments) start to fall into place and the big picture finally starts to make sense. The fact that it happened on the most alluringly beautiful island in the world just makes it sweeter. And the indulgently, fluffy frosting on the cupcake? Our client was a well-known, MALE-DOMINATED software company, famous for their fun-loving sales force. Being showered with attention from a lot of men at the same time who are not only fun, but also smart and interesting to talk to was like I said, the indulgently fluffy frosting... (enough for an entire blog post--see post below entitled "Candy for My Feminine Senses")

More highlights from the event :

•Going to the local market with my co-worker to buy client gifts and filling our cart with 20+ bottles of Gosling’s Black Rum, eliciting more than a few incredulous stares from local residents
•The flavors of Bermuda: fish chowder, fresh rock fish, violet candy, Bermuda rum cake, Dark and Stormies** and Rum Swizzles
•Spending more time ironing (thank you logo table cloths and event shirts) than I’ve spent ironing everything else combined in my entire life while warding off the obvious, not-so-funny Stepford Wife jokes
•Feeling like kids on Christmas morning when our missing Fed-ex box from Dallas finally arrived 4 days late (complete with screaming, jumping up and down and tearing open the box)
•The delicious, full chocolate, avant-garde chocolate sculpture (gift from the hotel pastry chef)
•Turquoise (count the gradations) water, white/coral sand, tourists on scooters, pastel colored houses behind moon gates (see photo below), and the truly genuine nature of Bermudian natives and residents

So on that last morning, as we pulled out of the hotel drive in the taxi to the airport, my stomach felt fine but my heart was aching. I already missed the island, permanently etched in my memory as the place I was when what should have been soul-sucking labor, instead turned out to be the invigorating gust of epiphany and motivation that I needed to just let go. The Magic of Paradise? I believe!

*The seven foot giant turned out to be our one and only Director of Conference Services, the gallant leader of our hotel staff, all of whom sport suit jackets, dress shirts and ties with Bermuda shorts, which is indeed a Bermudian custom and looks perfectly normal by the time you leave the island.

**Barrit's Ginger Beer and Gosling's Black Rum

Candy for My Feminine Senses

I’m not going to lie. One of the highlights of the Bermuda event was that I was a female Event Coordinator after 2 months of long hours in a female-dominated industry, amidst hundreds of male software sales reps from a male-dominated industry who spent 10 days of intense training with each other.

Throw in a secluded tropical island, Gosling’s black rum, a nearby dance club that plays Shakira and Sean Paul, and what did this lucky girl get?


•Guaranteed friends and attention from men at every function and during every break
•Free drinks and invitations to socialize every night
•Lots of dance partners
•Someone telling me that I look like Fergie (YES, the singer, not the actual British royalty)
•The guy I’d been secretly crushing on all week looking into my eyes on the dance floor, grabbing my waist and singing along with the lyrics, “Who knew that she could dance like that? She makes a man want to speak Spanish…” (the fact that I don’t actually speak Spanish aside, why is that so endearing when you actually have a crush on someone, but so cheesy when you don’t?)
•If I simply mentioned something I might need, there it was. (a sofa on which to lay down and rest my feet, a jacket to keep me warm, a refreshing drink, etc.)

And the sweet red cherry on top?

A foot massage by not one, but TWO doting men (and not just any two men, but my two absolutely favorite men) at the same time, one on each side. Oh, but it gets better. It eventually turned into a foot, calf AND hand massage. And as I settled back into a relaxing state of nirvana, I had but a single thought:

“I LOVE (Male Dominated Software Company.**)”

Any girl who doesn’t take advantage of THAT, is either lying or crazy.

** Clearly, not the actual name of the company. This is still an anonymous blog, after all, and for the protection of all parties involved, I must add that the drinks and dancing happened only after the event when it was professionally kosher. In addition, despite the drinks and dancing, all participants maintained the professional behavior expected and no inappropriate lines were crossed.

Aaaaah, Bermuda......

Wild Chickens run around like squirrels

Damn Lucky Cows

The popular moon gate

Ok, I admit that I don't remember exactly where this is... somewhere in Bermuda

Bacardi Rum Factory

View from the staff meal room on-site

View from my desk on-site

Shots from Harbour Boat Cruise (next 5 shots)

Cart full of Gosling's Black Rum (How to be the center of attention at the local market)

Downtown Bermuda at Night

What's my Bermuda pressure, please?

Just one week ago, I sat in the office in Dallas, blood pressure rising and buried in pre-event stress, wondering what was wrong with me: I was about to spend 2 weeks in Bermuda, but not only was I feeling dread, but I found myself actually looking forward to the LAST day of the trip (read: last day of what my sources say is a most exraordinarily logistically complicated event). But somehow, sitting at a temporary desk, doing the EXACT same work, but being able to turn my head and see palm trees and the ocean seems to have lowered my blood pressure. I don't know if it really did, but I DO know that last day is coming up entirely too soon! More posts to follow...

New Year's Plea

How the hell did I survive 2006? A dramatic question, I know. And certainly, in my case, a question fraught with upper middle -class angst. But it feels like any old angst to me. Last year started so auspiciously for me as I charged forward into all kinds of uncharted territory. But at the first taste of the heady exhilaration that only risk-taking brings, God looked down at my insufferably optimistc ways and thought, "Let's stir it up a little and see what she's REALLY made of." A little hope here, a little disillusionment there, toss in some happiness, uncertainty, heartache and opportunity for courage - whatever it takes for a complete and categorically gut-wrenching self-evaluation.

Did it work? Well, 2 weeks before the end of 2006, I found myself, the girl who swore off academia for good on the day she graduated with her first degree, having broken into a new industry (a feat which I'd begun to believe was impossible) standing in line at the post office and holding... (gasp!) an actual graduate school application. MY graduate school application. And I was actually not close to tears. There may even have been some smiling.

Ok, so I've discovered a little more about myself. Please give me a less emotionally tumultuous 2007. Please, please, please.

Gym Enigmas

The biggest mystery at the gym to me is, suprisingly, none of the following:

• The officious trainer ( If I want an appointment, I will make one with my own trainer who, clearly, is not you. Furthermore, I do not think that you are God's Gift to Women merely because you are a personal trainer)
  
• The Grunter/Groaner/Weight Slammer (Need I say more?)
  
• The blithely naked women in the locker room, sitting on the benches and bending over when you least expect it
  
• Inconsiderate weight lifters who leave 300 lbs worth of free weights on the machine and walk away after their sets, leaving me to choose between attempting to take the weights off myself (ha ha) or asking the officious trainer for help

While I may spend the rest of my life struggling to understand the reasoning behind such behavior, the most inexplicable mystery of all and one that I've only encountered at my new gym is:

The weigh scale in the middle of the gym floor. What's the big deal, you ask? For one thing, it's not in a discreet spot near the trainers' desks for use in fitness tests as you would expect. It is truly at the center, in full view of anyone on their way to the weights, the stairs up to the cardio machines, the courts or the locker rooms. But even more noteworthy is the absence of a scale in the ladies' locker room. I mean, really? Weigh myself in front of the entire membership of the gym? I'd rather be pestered by 100 trainers at once while trying to lift a couple of 150 lb. free weights that the 2 Grunter/Groaner/Weight Slammers left on the Smith machine, during which the fire alarm goes off and all the naked people are forced to run out, sans towels.

Give a girl what she asks for

Seven months ago, plagued with professional ennui, I yearned for SOMETHING mentally stimulating. SOMETHING, ANYTHING!

Anything? How about this? A brand new job in a totally new industry a week and a half before their biggest, most significant and most crucial event of the year, studying for the GRE (um, Math? You mean that stuff I did in high school?) which I will take exactly a week after said event and completing an application for school (letters of rec., essay, transcripts) all before the holidays. Not to mention calming myself down when I start to hyperventilate.

I guess that's SOMETHING.

What do I think I'm doing writing this blog? That was two minutes of stimulation lost! Pardon me, but I have a date with the vocabulary flash cards.

All Resignations are NOT Equal

Turning in a job resignation last week after 7 years at a very small company was more than a little distressing. As expected, even though it was quite emotional, my bosses were encouraging and completely supportive of my forthcoming professional and educational pursuits.

What I was certainly not anticipating, however, was what happened next. I'd just let out a great sigh of relief, thinking that the worst was over. But, of course it wasn't. I still can't figure out how the conversation turned from a discussion of my future to a discussion among my direct boss and upper management centered around sorting out my dating history in the last 7 years. As I listened, face burning red and slipping further and further down in my chair, I heard some of the following:

"But wait a minute. What happened to_________?"
"Oh c'mon. ______ was ages ago. There were at least 2 others since then."
"But wasn't ______ at the holiday party at The Four Seasons?"
"No, that was the year before."

And my favorite:
"So wait. Who is the current ex?"
Yes, that's right. He said "current ex."

How did this happen? I've tried so hard to be tight-lipped about such things. Will this be part of my legacy at that place? "Oh, her? Yeah, she was an exceptional worker with great skills and a lot of dates. "

Sigh. The curse of a small company.

80's much?

As I gave my reflection in the full-length mirror my daily morning once-over (yes, all girls do this and if they don't they SHOULD), I remembered my vehement assertion from a time not so long ago that I would NEVER wear anything even slightly reminiscent of the 80's. Shrudder. What was I wearing this morning? Honest to God leggings with my pointy-toed shoes, a short skirt and cowl-neck sweater with a wide belt worn high around my waist. My hair was feathered back, showing off my hoop earrings and two large bangles adorned my wrist.

I would conclude this post with "never say never," only I don't actually agree with that particular aphorism. Not only would it be expressively stifling to entirely eliminate the word "never," but I would miss the moments like I had this morning too much.

HOOK 'EM!!!!!!!

The Dish on Tapas

I've never tasted Tapas in Spain, nor do I consider myself an undisputed expert on Spanish food, but I have not found any Tapas eateries that even come close to Cafe Madrid on Travis Street. Honestly, I'd like to find another one, just for variety. My most recent effort was dinner at Rouge. While the service was excellent, the food left a lot to be desired.

But it did get me thinking that my first taste of Tapas, years ago, was at Cafe Madrid. What if it had been at one of these other places? It would be entirely possible that I would be missing out on an entire culinary "genre" as well as the irresistable opportunities to tell people that I frequent Tapas Bars. (Said quickly enough, most people will hear something else.)

Fortunately for me, the Tapas Gods were watching over me.

The Last Kiss

This weekend, I saw the new Zach Braff movie, The Last Kiss. I think it was good. I say that because the complexities of the plot rang so true, that for 2 uninterrupted hours, I felt the entire span of harrowing emotions that arise from relationship struggles. It successfully reinforced every commitment-phobic and relationship-phobic instinct in me. In fact, I felt so devastated when I came out of the film, that I knew immediately that I don't EVER want to see it again. Or think too much about it.

I just can't figure out if that makes it a good movie or a bad movie..

Oh. um.. I meant congratulations!

Apparently, it's not only on TV that your first reaction to someone's happy announcement is to laugh until you realize that he/she is serious..

You catch more flies with honey and other secret weapons

Flies do not like vinegar. Also, belligerence is not the same thing as proaction. Tell that to the girl at the back of the line to claim the baggage that did NOT arrive with our flights, after a long day of cancelled flights, stand-by boarding passes and delayed take-offs and landings. She, thanks to her grating, LOUD bitching (which could probably be heard from wherever our baggage was) successfully goaded the airline representative who was at the moment, very professionally helping me with my baggage, into a full-scale altercation in which Loud Girl gets so red-faced and frenzied, that she turns to all of us (who just want to get our bags delivered) and says, "WHO HERE HAS BEEN DEALING WITH THIS INCOMPETENCE ALL DAY??" And what? She wants us to all raise our hands and spend more valuable time participating in some kind of demonstration against an employee who had nothing to do with the maintenance issues of the airplane in another city which started the whole chain of events? When the airline representative finally chooses to ignore Loud Girl and can return to assisting me (exhausted and frustrated, but patient and cooperative), guess who gets a rush put on her baggage delivery? Not Loud Girl, I'll tell you that. It didn't help that all afternoon, I had to listen to Loud Girl complain to everyone who would listen as well as to her husband on her 2 way radio.

Other often underestimated social tools in a frustrating situation:

Silence works a million times more effectively than words. Ranting vs. closed lips and meaningful one-eyebrow raise...

Speaking with a low volume, yet powerful voice gets results faster than strident yelling.

Of course, as soon as all parties are removed from the frustrating situation, all parties are encouraged to go to a really noisy (so you can scream as loud as possible) bar with friends for unrestrained bitching.

Autumn Style Visions

This summer, I may be in the minority to admit that I'd rather survive triple degree summers than sub-zero winters. But even I'm excited about the fall fashion... Highlights from the bebe Autumn 2006 Collection Premier:

• Lots of red (clothing and accessories)
• Leggings paired with mini-skirts and tunics (these do NOT include big, baggy cotton tees..yes, we all remember that particular 80s faux pas..shrudder)
• Dark, simple denim, narrow cut
• High waisted skirts and/or wide belts to be worn around the true waist
• Platform style stacked heels (I don't know if I even worded that right..I never said I write for Vogue)

Lots of love, thanks and congrats to my friends at bebe!

Love/Hate to Love/Love in a New York Minute

The first time I went to NYC, I was an upper middle class, suburban-grown teenager with the idealistic visions of every aspiring, classically trained violinist's Mecca. I expected that as soon as I stepped out onto the streets of New York, I'd feel some sort of magical "zsa zsa zsu" (props to SATC). Perfect Love/Love. Needless to say, I was a little let down. It felt like every other urban city USA. But I still loved it. Loved the bustle and diversity. I loved Lincoln Center and the city's embrace of the fine arts. It was a refreshing change from what I thought was the opressive culture at my high school. It represented a larger world and I was hooked.

That is, until I became more serious about my future in violin. By the time I graduated with the degree I thought I wanted, I'd let NYC represent the elitist and cynical attitudes of certain narrow-minded classical musicians. In my head, NYC had somehow become the oppresive culture and I wanted no part. Love/Hate.

Last week, I finally returned, happily without an ounce of violinistic aspiration. I LOVE/LOVE it once again. I stayed clear of Lincoln Center and hardly glanced at Carnegie Hall. Instead, I couldn't wait to have Tasti D-lite in its city of origin, wait in the long line at Magnolia Bakery for a cupcake, and just generally enjoy the city. I even had a few surprises, including the Zaha Hadid (my new FAVORITE architect) special exhibit at the Guggenheim.

I stayed with my friend who is a violinist and is not at all elitist, cynical or narrow-minded. And it finally dawned on me that I need to stop making NYC represent anything besides what it is. And I love it.

Travel on a shoe string what?

Why is it that as soon as I booked my tickets for my trip to New York, the first thing I did was go shoe shopping...for the trip? And I realized that it's a pattern. I spend several days to find a reasonable air fare, for the most part limit my travels to places where friends are so that I can stay with them and not pay for lodging, and then agonize over whether the plane fare is worth it. But then as soon as I buy the tickets, I go out to buy a list of "must haves" for the trip without even blinking an eye.

And yet, I continue to smile and say, "Thanks to my frequent flier miles, I'm going to Manhattan for $55 dollars!!"

It’s the same each time
with progress. First they ignore you, then they say you’re mad, then dangerous,
then there’s a pause and then you can’t find anyone who disagrees with you

--Tony Benn

Fun things to do when things at work are slow

And this is in addition to the paper Dirk shrine at work....

Shout out to G-town

Congratulations again! Had a great time at the housewarming. Love how you've personalized the house and I love, love, LOVE the pool... Mrs. G, I know I tell you this all the time, but seeing the house further proves to me that you are one of the most amazing people I know and everything you do and have reflects that. You deserve it all!! And Waco Hoover, I still say that you are the real musician. I just read notes.

Lap Dogs

"I'd rather be trapped in a coal mine with 3 republicans and a lap dog..."
--Tyne Daly's character in Judging Amy, explaining how much she does NOT want to do something.

As much as I often laugh and dismiss lap dogs as a concept, this is what really happens: I see the dog and smile and give it the obligatory scratches behind the ears, under the chin, etc. I move on, rolling my eyes. Lap dogs...puhleeze. 10 minutes later, where is the dog? In my lap basking in my undivided attention and affection.

In case anyone is wondering, you will not find me with 3 republicans in my lap, basking in my undivided attention and affection.

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name..

Fortunately, I have a few places like this.. I went to one of them today..the salon. Most women will agree that when you find a hair designer/stylist that you like, don't switch! I've been fortunate to have found that person when I was 7 years old. With exception to my 4 years in NY, I have been a loyal client. I now have to drive a good 30 minutes to get there, but I never even considered finding a new place for my cuts, color, nails and waxing. I've been with them through 3 locations, several expansions and a few rare staff changes. I'm even invited to employee parties and events (weddings and showers included). I love all that.

But I also love the little moments: giggling with the girls while flipping through our first Men's lingerie catalog, sorting through romantic interest from other clients (fortunately, they have the good sense to go through the front desk staff who can give me the scoop and re-arrange the schedule if something feels creepy), swapping faux tan tips, breaking out into occasional dance.... and the list goes on.


Walking out of somewhere looking better on the outside and feeling better in the inside? Worth every penny.

Mavs Mania

We are not making it up. Mavs mania is an authentic phenomenon that has swept over the big D and its inhabitants. Just a small sample of proof:

• As far as bebe Me is concerned, feminine wiles ( a very real and effective power) should only be used for good. Somehow, this particular principle slipped her mind, coincidentally, at about the same time an opportunity for Mavs tickets (season holder tix) arose.
• Every girl in the DFW area, whether she will admit it or not, has a crush on Dirk Nowitsky. Tall.... Blond... And to watch him on the court... mmm (..wait, did I just admit something?)

I swear, it's the mania talking...

In these busy times...

The following email (the gist of it) appeared in my inbox on Wed. afternoon:

hi girls! Wanna get together for dinner next Wednesday night?

Ten emails and 2 days later, 3 girls were able to set one night for dinner.

And when is that night?

In 3 weeks.

Timeless Question for This Dark Chocolate Lover

Why do they even bother to make milk chocolate?

Maybe it's YOU

If I'm shivering and say something about feeling cold in the arctic TX air conditioning, it is because I really am cold and probably have goose bumps and am tired of keeping quiet, just so that I won't hear any or all of the following:

"You need to gain weight."
"You need to wear more clothes."
"It's because you don't eat meat."

I'm sorry, I just get cold easily. And when someone says they are really hot, I don't ever say, "You need stop eating meat. And while you're at it, lose some weight so that you can wear less clothing."

to Steve Nash

CUT YOUR HAIR, YOU FREAK!!!!!!!

Apologies to all my usual game watching buddies for having to listen to me say that a million times during every game.

Digital Camera Saga at a Small Company

Me: Our digital camera isn't working.

Controller: The lens is broken. Who broke it?

Me: I'm not sure. Somebody probably dropped it.

Controller: Who dropped it?

Me: I don't know. Can we get it repaired?

Controller: That will cost more than a new camera. Who was the last one to use it?

Me: (inwardly sighing) I really don't know. But I need to take some pictures to send to a client...

Controller: Somebody here broke it. So now, we have no digital camera to use.

Me: (inwardly screaming) Well, I guess I'll wait for one of the other reps to show up and use her camera to send these pictures.

Controller: ok. (hands the broken, useless camera back)

AAAAARRRRGH!!!!!

Shout out to the sexiest girl in Palo Alto

You rock! Thank ALL that is holy that we will never think it's sexy to wear a thong and shake cellulite (aka what she thinks is her hot little ass) in front of everyone at the pool even if the music is mixed by Julio the Wonder Boy Who Dates Supermodels.

The old school Madonna house mix almost made up for freaky cracker DJ, standing in line for 15 minutes for 2 drink orders (and who knows how much longer without the so totally-un-PC- that-I-can't-write-it on-this-blog, new "friend" of yours), drunk gropers, friggin' 70 degree no shorts weather, and the worst.... dearth of hip-hop clubbing (Why is it SO difficult to find??)

Love your kitties (certain aromas are forgotten) and that shy guy!

Coming soon: you and me, the beach and pina coladas!

A Dallasite in Phoenix

My thought process as I stepped off the plane for my layover in Phoenix yesterday:

Phoenix...booooooo. If only I had a Mavs shirt or hat...

Wait a minute. I'm at an airport. Most of these people aren't even from Phoenix and probably don't give a flyin' flip.

Cool, I'm in Phoenix! Must go immediately to the gift shop to get some Cactus candy. Mmmmmm... Yea, Phoenix!

Bikini Blunders???

My latest fashion challenge:

This weekend, I will be at a big MTV style pool party in the San Francisco area. But wait....what shoes do I wear? And jewelry? And..handbag? Do you bring a handbag or a beach bag? How is it that I know exactly how to dress to go out to a club, to a cocktail party, to a wedding, etc., but I am clueless about how to dress for a "pool party?" Apparently, pool parties have changed since the days when you showed up at your b/f/f's backyard pool with a towel and a noodle...

Signs You are Having the Best Birthday Party Ever

• It lasts for 8 hours.
• You dance for 5 hours straight, during which the following occurs:

1. Someone gets the idea to go knocking on neighbors' doors to sell tickets to watch you (if you are a girl) and your friend (another girl) dance together ("do you know how many straight men would PAY to see this??")

2. You get cash tucked in your pants when you stand up on a ledge to dance

3. 3 hours into it, your hair's fallen flat and your make up is melted, but you are still going and telling everyone you're "dancing for (fill in charity of choice)"

• The owner of the house keeps coming in, turning the music down and telling you that you're going to "blow the speaker system." (You ignore him and keep turning it up as soon as he leaves)
• You are wearing a tiara from Libby Lu's (shop for little girls who dream of being a princess) all night long and you find out that the teenager down the street who is having her birthday party is wearing a tiara too.
• The theme and decorations revolve around disco balls of all sizes and all the guests are wearing mini disco balls around their necks and, naturally, making appropriately inappropriate jokes.
• One of the biggest lightweights at the party keeps refilling his drink, takes 3 hits, and wants to look through all the drawers in the house.
• By the end of the party, a VIP of a certain clothing boutique that is very close to this blogger's heart is wearing a gay man's pair of white tube socks with her denim capris.
• The next morning, the married girl can't remember flashing her hoo hoos.
• The word of the night somehow becomes "po po ZOW" (sorry K-Fed, I'm not really sure how to spell that)
• The paper boy delivers the paper before the last guest leaves.

And one last sign... People are still talking and laughing about it 5 days later.

Happy Birthday to me!!

No, I do not want to share a dessert

bebe Me loves some dessert. I know, it's an accepted practice (especially among women) to be out with someone and suggest sharing a dessert from the menu. I've spent my life trying to figure out a delicate way to say, "hell, no!" and how to determine how well I have to know someone to say it. Even if I've just barely met you, you can share my entree, my salad, my appetizer and please share my drink, but leave this girl's dessert alone. I mean, you really don't want to mess with anything that makes a girl's eyes roll back and makes her say, oooooh... do you?

Expensive Friendships

What does it mean if you get almost as many birthday cards from retailers (Happy birthday! Your gift is contingent on your spending more money with us!) than you do from your friends and family?

Friends say the darndest things..

I used to keep a list of my favorite quotes from friends. This is my latest favorite from my favorite Cali girl:

I always thought I paid high california rent in exchange for nice weather. Well this year, I want a REFUND!

Comic relief for the job seeker

During the sometimes grueling and always evolving process of figuring out what you want to do professionally, why not take a break and figure out what you really don't want and probably shouldn't do professionally? For bebe Me, the following come to mind immediately:

• A cab driver or truck driver or any professional driver-- unless it's cool with the client to allow at least and extra hour for getting lost and turning around and sometimes ending up taking the looong way.
• A NFL player-- having my body weight as public knowledge is NOT cool with me. Not to mention the more obvious obstacles..

If picturing myself as either one of those professionals doesn't bring some laughs and giggles, I don't know what will.

There is more than one path to creativity

I spent some time at the Nasher Sculpture Center this weekend which is pretty cool if you've never been there:

http://NasherSculptureCenter.org

Once again, as I read about all the tumultuous details of artists' lives, I can't help but wonder why much of society seems to expect artists (visual, performing and writing) to have exclusive claim on all the world's suffering. Are historians who are writing about the artist's life seeking it out to add authenticity? And with this mindset, how can any artist resist magnifying anything in their life that could be perceived as drama so that they can tap into the furthest corners of their creative powers?

I'm not saying that pain isn't a valid source of creativity because it can be. But as someone who lived and studied in the world of the arts for many years, I have seen great artists who lead (gasp!) average, stable lives

Take a deep breath, close your eyes and jump in..

The future is uncertain..but this uncertainty is at the very heart of human creativity.
--Ilya Prigogine

At a time in my life where I really do feel like I'm jumping into uncertain waters in many ways, I am reminded that nothing shapes character more significantly than stepping out of a comfort zone. I always enjoy the process, but I also can't wait for that moment that makes it all worth it..when you emerge from the water, refreshed, energized and alive. That sensation is why we continue to allow ourselves to fall, dust ourselves off and try again.

Oh what they are missing..

Recently, I saw a segment on the local news about what people in Manhattan think about Texas. There are actually people who still think that we live in the sticks with a couple of horses each. Ok, so I haven't been to every little town in the Lonestar state, so maybe there still is some of that, but puhLEEZE. Here's what a girl who genuinely loves NYC, but loves TX even more has to say to them: Y'all need to GET OUT some.

bebe Spring 2006

The new spring collection has arrived and once again, I want to especially thank a couple of very special friends for asking me to model at the premier. Congratulations on your stores' successes this year!

For all you fashion seekers, my favorite store is stocked with sexy pencil skirts and fitted tops, short shorts, denim skirts and warm weather shrugs. Still plenty of sparkle and sheen, chunky jewelry and wedge heels to go around....

Bring on the warmer weather!

Happy Birthday to my Dad

Thank you to my Dad for:

• Teaching me to appreciate all things in nature (rocks, flowers, plants and animals)
• Disagreeing with me and insisting that I really was smart enough to understand math
• Believing that anyone can improve at anything if they just put forth the effort
• Showing me by example that being courteous and saying a few cheerful words to every person you run across (including toll booth attendatns, security guards, etc.) can make them and me smile
• Supporting my lofty dreams as a teenage aspiring violinist, financially and emotionally
• Never saying anything negative about my mother
• Showing me by example than there is such thing as a man who is comfortable with himself, has a backbone and is a good leader while still being faithful to, respectful toward, and supportive of women. (whether I always believed I would find someone like that is a different story, but whenever I'd hear other people say that men like that don't exist, I always knew deep inside that there was at least one)

Oh baby, baby

Yes, I am a woman but I do not automatically love all babies. I will not offer to hold every baby I see, I will not gush over every newborn baby picture, I don't really want to hear every detail of pregnancy, birth, and especially baby room decor. I'm not filled with burning desire to have one of my own whenever I am around a baby. You will not see me jumping at an offer to baby sit. For some reason, this leads many people to assume that I don't like babies or kids and that I don't know how to handle one and that I must be completely uncomfortable around them. I actually like very much to hold those little guys and girls, just not every single one I see. I've known how to hold and play with babies since I was the every preteen girl in America who went through the "I LOVE babies and baby-sitting" stage. Kids and babies are just like any other people in my life. I feel very comfortable with people (and kids and babies) in general, enjoy interacting with most of them (spoiled brats, old and young, are never enjoyable), and suprise, suprise, kids actually like me!

So why is it that if a woman doesn't have an obvious, eager sense of maternal nurturing, then they must be completely clueless about people younger than 18? I actually had someone say to me, "oh, you must be like my sister. She dropped my son when he was a baby."

Would she have said this to me if I were a man? I'm going to guess the answer to that is no.

Move Over Hallmark, it's Valentines Day with bebe Me (Belated)

Anyone that knows me knows how I love anything glittery and shiny, feminine and sensuous and candy and chocolate. So how could I not celebrate Valentine's Day whole-heartedly? Love? Ok, that's cool if you happen to have it and if that's what you want to make V-day about. But love has never been a limitation for me. In earlier years, I got fun little gifts from my parents, but as an adult, I buy myself my own gifts, always frivolous, but not necessarily pricey. I hand out candy, stickers, hand made valentines, all of it. I've heard that some people only celebrate when they have a significant other... Me? The first time I actually and a significant other on that day, I was a little out of sorts....how does this work?

No, I'm not trying to make any kind of statement. I really just love to celebrate the pretty things of Valentine's Day for what they are rather than for what Hallmark says they represent (with all due respect to Hallmark, without which there would be nothing for me to celebrate).

I'm not saying everyone has to celebrate Valentine's Day my way or anyone else's way, but as for me, I'm always here to spread the glittery cheer!

Chain of Fool (yes, I mean fool singular, as in one I met today)

I am not often rendered speechless. But this morning, as expected, watercooler talk at the office was centered around the Superbowl. Women, brace yourself. A female coworker says, "And what about the National Anthem? What WAS that? Who was that woman? Hideous.." I kid you not, ladies. She actually said "Who was that woman?"

I couldn't even talk for at least 2 minutes.

(Just in case anyone didn't know who sang the national anthem, it was only the Queen of Soul, herself, Aretha.)

Show some R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Superbowl o' dip

We all know the types of Superbowl partiers: the ones who are there to watch the game, the ones who are there to socialize and all that falls in between. But whatever you're there for, who doesn't love the party dips?

Pass the spinach dip, please..

Couple-ditional Friendship

Definition: n. the state of being friendly toward another, but only asking them to do things socially if the other person is part of a "couple"

bebe me's opinion: Yawn. Let's mix it up a little, please.

Tribute to a Woman with a True Musician's Soul

The lovely lady who taught me violin from the age of about 9 -12 passed away this past week. She lived in TX, but would often travel to Colorado to visit her grandchildren who didn't know how to play violin. She would give them lessons anyway.

A woman who loved music so much that she had to share it with everyone...

It's time to step up

As a teenage violinist driven by lofty dreams and even loftier standards, I would show up at my lessons, frustrated by my technical weaknesses. My violin teacher (who could do no wrong) told me every time that frustration is an opportunity for improvement and to push myself to a higher place. I loved him even more for that. Life's most important lessons always come back. I was recently tres frustrated at work until I realized that I could turn it into an opportunity to step up and be a better leader.

The glass is always half full.

What makes a great shoe?

You're at a party, your feet are killing you, but you can't stand the thought of taking off your beautiful shoes and a drag queen introuduces himself to you because he's been lusting after your shoes all evening.... Now that's a great shoe.

bebe Me's current fave CDs

There's nothing like discovering a new CD. It's on at home (where you can sing and dance all you want with the hair brush..let's not lie, we all do it), in the car (where you can sing as much or as little as you want, depending on your level of self-conciousness), and at work (played very softly). Following are my 2 new favorites

• the Pussycat Dolls (PCD) -includes hits Don't cha, beep, and stickwitu but I love every song on this CD, including the burlesque style ones (they were burlesque dancers to begin with)
• Madonna's Confessions on a Dance Floor - I don't own this one, but a friend of mine has it and it is fantastic! Song after song of disco dancin'........ So what if every song sounds the same? Don't we sometimes wish for that anyway?

Even Better than the Flight

Airport travel just keeps getting better. I remember when we had to remember the actual paper plane ticket in order to get on the flight, in addition to a passport/ID. Now, with e-tickets and self check in, I just have to bring a major credit card and I.D. If I didn't check in any bags (ha ha), I could print out a boarding pass from home and go directly to the gate.

As far as stricter security measures, I have recently discovered the wonderful world of TSA approved locks. Plus, modern security procedures make taking off the bling and my shoes easy and quick. Restricting the gates to passengers only isn't actually a bad thing either because the extra time I save before I get to the gate allows more time to do my favorite airport activities (much more fun done alone):

• Walk around and spend money that I didn't need to spend
• Walk around and not spend money that I really do want to spend
• Sit in the waiting area and do some unintentional eavesdropping

I'm Dreaming of a.....

...bright, sunny Christmas.

Crazy? Not for me. I spent my earliest Christmases in Canada and Colorado where Christmases were white. I can't say that I miss it. I love a Christmas like today's in Houston, TX. I woke up to the sunlight streaming into the guest room where I was sleeping. We spent time outside without coats and boots and took pictures in the backyard with the neighbor's palm trees in the backdrop.

Picture perfect...

Happy Holidays!!

Every Girl Should....

I have a list of these things, but my latest one is this:

Every girl should get asked out by her high school crush 11 years later.

Especially if her high school crush was smart, cute, played football and violin and was always dating his perfect cheerleader girlfriend who was also smart, cute and played the violin (and was so genuinely nice that you couldn't hate her).

Sober Drunk

Recently, after a company holiday party, my female coworker was teased (until she started feeling a little insecure about it) for having a little too much wine. In my opinion, she acted no crazier than I did and I wasn't drinking. She helped me in a performance of Devil Goes Down to Georgia and afterwards, I tried to get everyone else to join in as I sang and danced like a rock star. She was the only one who followed my lead and we had a great time. But nobody was giving me a hard time. So I finally asked why everyone was making such a big deal about her and if anyone really thought she was acting any crazier than I was. The answer is apparently that everyone expects me to act like that. Sober. Hmmmmm.... Does that mean that I should be embarassed more often? I'd like to think that I'm just relaxed and uninhibited enough to have a good time and not feel I have to apologize for it and blame it on the alcohol afterward. I'm going to go with that answer.

My Old Friend

I miss running. I started running during my freshman year in college and it was the ultimate outlet for stress and negativity and a time to sort through my ideas. Plus, it made me feel good and discover for myself that "runner's high" is not a myth. Eventually, my knees gave in and I haven't really run since a 5K in 2002. Last week, it was below freezing and to keep warm when I had to go out into the warehouse at work, I decided to run laps around the 32,000 ft plus warehouse. It was sort of a joke at first and I got the expected giggles from the warehouse staff, but I didn't expect the nostalgia. Don't get me wrong, I love my workouts at the gym, but there's just something about running that can't compare. So I ran until I warmed up and until my knees reminded me of why I stopped.

It was a nice visit with an old friend.

Battle Scars of the Violinist

I haven't really played the violin for extensive periods of time for several years until last week. I put together a performance for a party last Saturday and spent 2-3 hours a night (nothing compared to what I used to put in), trying to get back in shape. Being away from that life for so long, I'd forgotten what pride I'd taken in the callouses on my finger tips and the "hickey" on my neck. They were literally a physical manifestation of my dedication to my art. Before anyone starts being impressed, I must say that I do NOT feel this way anymore. I prayed that my fingers would stay callous free as I cringed through the pain and every night, I stared at the ugly red mark on my neck in despair. Could this possibly be the same girl from years ago who loved her battle scars?

But when Saturday night rolled around, I realized that one thing remains the same. I still looooove to perform! Misshapen fingertips and ugly red marks be damned.

Shout out to Boston

To my former high school orchestra stand partner.. Thanks for checking out my blog! I promise I will let you know if I ever get taken over by a force greater than both Oprah Winfrey and my rock hard fear of committment and that ring is really what you think it is. Your welcome for saving your butt from ever having to do the concertmaster solos in concert. (Just call me Downbeat) But seriously, I admire everything you accomplished and have become since then. You deserve it. Happy first anniversary!

Everyone should have such successful friends from high school.

London Trip, Friday 10/7--Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill

Aaaah... European Cheeses....

London Trip, Friday 10/7--Notting Hill

London Trip, Friday 10/7--Cheyne Walk in Chelsea

London Trip, Friday 10/7--High Society London

What we really wanted to see was some ordinary houses with ordinary people living ordinary lives. But since that's hard to find on your own, we decided to go to the only place we knew of to easily find any houses at all... Chelsea. Not exactly the ordinary... We went on to another fashionable location, Notting Hill, to see the Portobello Road Market. A nice pampered way to spend my last full day in London.

• Sophia Kinsella British Fiction Moments: We started out our Chelsea tour on King's Road, which is another great fashion district where I had all kinds of Confessions of a Shopaholic moments, spotting Karen Millen, Jigsaw and Hobbs.
• Nannies, Maids, and Luxury Cars.. Chenye Walk is a section of Chelsea that has older, expensive houses, some of which were inhabited by well known writers and artists like George Elliot. We didn't see many actual residents, but we did see evidence of their lifestyle....nannies pushing carriages and maids (some in the black and white uniform) sweeping porches. The houses were beautiful, but the whole maids in uniform thing really makes me cringe. Isn't it 2005? I saw the first car dealership I'd seen in London on Cheyne Walk, and it was, of course, Mercedez-Benz.
• A new cheese.... On the way back to the Sloane Square Tube station, we stopped by an even bigger Marks and Spencer and walked down every aisle to see what Londoners buy at the grocery. I finally saw clotted cream (not something I wanted to try) and a massive selection of cheese (I wanted to try them all.) Since I couldn't try them all, I got a Wensleydale cheese and carmelized carrot chutney sandwhich for lunch. Delicious. It was then that I decided that I could definitely do just a cheese tour all across Europe.
• You never know what you can find at a market... ?? For me, that would be absolutely nothing. I appreciate most shopping, but flea-type market shopping tends to give me a headache. Portobello Road in Notting Hill is filled with stalls and stalls of everything. I liked the little cheese store. Yummm. But less than halfway through, I was done. I haven't yet learned the magic of discovering treasures in a flea market. What's the secret?
• Marian Keyes British Fiction Moment: I'd just recently finished reading Marian Keyes' Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married. Lucy lives on Ladbroke Grove which I discovered was just minutes away from where we were in Portobello Road. Plus it had a tube station that was on a line and in a zone that I'd never been. Something new! Yes, this kind of thing excites me. It was definitely different, riding the tube with considerably less tourists around.
• Eating-NOT-on-the-go... It is not a myth that America is a go-go-go culture. Eating is no exception. Since I'm a very slooooow eater who likes to savor every bite, eating in Euope sat well with me. It does take some getting used to, however, especially when your server doesn't bring the check for a looong time and after he does bring it, there's not hurry to take care of it. In America, it may be considred bad service. In London, it's consideration. Meals are to be enjoyed at a leisurely pace.
• New British Foods: Fennel which I'm very embarassed to admit that I can't remember anything about, except that I liked it. We also stopped by a Pret a Manger on the way home which is a popular sandwhich/snack/coffee eatery in London.

London Trip, Thursday 10/6--The walk along the River Thames in South Bank

London Trip, Thursday 10/6--Anchor Pub

I never actually got to eat (or drink) at this well-known British pub.

London Trip, Thursday 10/6--So Much Art, So Little Time

The sore throat I woke up to this morning did not dampen my spirits. We headed back to Southbank and the Tate Modern. While I did get to finish seeing the Tate Modern, I sadly noted that I wouldn't be able to see all that Southbank has to offer, including the Shakespeare Globe Theater, the Design Museum and many more smaller art galleries. I had to settle for photos.

• Drama at the Laundromat... We went to the laundromat this morning and I was shocked to find out that the laundromat owner had never used cold water to do her laundry. She looked at me like I was crazy when I mentioned doing my colors in cold water. At the laundromat, I also caught up on some celebrity gossip in the British pop magazines and heard on the radio about Katie Holmes' pregnancy. I don't know what was more jarring..the news about Katie Holmes or the look the laundromat lady gave me.
• Geek at the Tate Modern... I was the geek. I knew it was my last chance to spend at the museum and I still had so many floors left to see. I ran up the flights of stairs, skipped lunch and, well, yes, I was taking notes again. The other day, I was talking about how great it was that the gallery is so accessible, but today I saw a possible downside... teenagers. Groups of them. I had to keep reminding myself that I too was a teenager. I used to run around with my friends with loud enthusiasm and make sarcastic comments. So despite my natural urge to give them all the withering look of an older, more sophisticated but still trendy adult (it works..they will shut up), I decided that it comes with the territory and kept my withering looks to myself.
• New Foods I tried: Egg and Watercress sandwich (British thing), ravioli made with filo dough and cheese at The Real Greek, a restaurant that seems to be rapidly growing in popularity there. It was definitely the best Greek food I've ever had whether it was authentic or not.

London Trip, Wednesday 10/5--Brighton Beach

London Trip, Wednesday 10/5--The Lanes in Brighton

Handmade fudge and candy!! I was too full to try the fudge, but I did get some of the Brighton Rock Candy---bubble gum flavor. I must have been the oldest person to whom the shopkeeper ever sold that flavor.

London Trip, Wednesday 10/5--British Gourmet Potato Chips

Please see the post below for my potato chip flavor observation...

London Trip, Wednesday 10/5--Out of London and to the beach!

As much as I've rhapsodized about big city adrenaline, I do also looooooooove a beach. We ventured out to Brighton Beach today, an hour train ride from London Bridge Station and a lovely vacation spot. To quote one of their promotional leaflets, "Brighton has developed a charming mix of old world character, wacky modernism, sleek sophistication and bohemian abandon." All true, I must say.

• A mini-San Francisco... On the way down to the pier and the beach, there are twisting, hilly lanes and pastel colored narrow buildings that reminded us a lot of San Francisco. These streets made up what is called North Laine and The Lanes. North Laine had all kinds of independently owned retailers (some great boutiques!) and The Lanes is famous for its antique stores. I'm not much into antiques, but I was way into the fudge and handmade candy shop!
• People who think it's summertime when it's 60 degrees... The water on the beach was very clear, but very cold. It's true that when I lived in New York, my body was more tolerant of cold, but I still don't know if I would have laid around on a pebbly beach in shorts and with my feet in the cold water at 60 degrees farenheit. But that's just me.
• Finally, my fish and chips moment... After the disappointing fish and chips on Saturday, I was determined to get the real thing on the pier (Palace Pier). Along with all the little food shops, the amusement park and the free chairs for tourists to unfold and sit on to enjoy the ocean view, the pier had a fish and chips restaurant, which, of course, bragged as having the very best fish and chips. We decided to give it a shot and I was pleased to be able to have not just the malt vinegar, but also the lemon flavored vinegar with my fish and chips. Someone mentioned to me that just seeing me eat something deep fried is a kodak moment in itself... Let's just say that what happens in London stays in London.
• Potato chip flavors are like dialect accents...specific to the region... When I lived in Canada, I remember shopping at Marks and Spencer. I was reintroduced at the Brighton Train Station. I love gourmet food markets and got a little carried away wanting to get pictures of all the different and surprising flavo(u)rs of potato chips. Some examples: Honey Roast Wiltshire Ham, Roast Beef and Onion, Sweet Thai Chili and Coriander, Oriental Spring Onion and Roquefort and Smokey Bacon.
• Foodie Panic... As you might guess, trying regional foods and flavors when I travel is really important to me. Today, I realized that I had only a few days left. This is why I bought rhubarb and custard flavored candy, flapjacks (sort of like a very soft, granola bar) and Leicester Red Cheese flavored chips to sample. For dinner, I had Pizza Fiorentina, which might not be originally British, but is very popular there. It sounds weird, but is really good. It's pizza with red sauce, cheese, spinach and a free range egg on top. The egg is broken and baked right on top of the pizza. (I later remembered that the girl in Confessions of a Shopaholic loved this pizza too.) Mmmmmmm..

London Trip, Tuesday 10/4--Tate Modern

The Tate Modern, I feel sure, was created just for me. :-) 20th century paintings, sculptures, installation, multi-media, and performance art.... I love it!

London Trip, Tuesday 10/4 --Oxo Tower

London Trip, Tuesday 10/4--Gabriel's Wharf

London Trip, Tuesday 10/4--Art for the masses, south of the river

As a performing arts major, I was involved in the growing movement to bringing "fine" arts to the mainstream, starting with kids. I'm not so into the fine art scene now (by choice), but I still believe that appreciation of such arts are not exclusive to "artsy types" or wealthy people. But even I'll admit that when I go to any kind of artistic event today, sometimes I want to laugh because people act so serious and stuffy. There are many other cultures around the world, including the European culture that prove that fine art doesn't have to be that way, and today, I was reminded of that again. We spent the day on the Southbank (south side of the Thames River), stopping in at Oxo Tower, Gabriel's Wharf, and the place I'd been waiting to visit since day one...The Tate Modern (art gallery).

• Art to buy... Before heading to the Tate, we explored 2 little shopping areas along Southbank. The bottom floors of Oxo Tower were filled with small shops with modern style prints and crafts. Right up my alley. Gabriel's Wharf had more traditional style shops.
• Art to see... Actually, in my case, it was art to inhale and absorb. Unlike the National Gallery, I stopped at every work, read every description, took notes and I still felt rushed. I only covered half of the floors on this day. I knew I'd need one more visit and I still wouldn't have time to see the visiting Frida Kahlo exhibit.
• Art for everyone... I love that the admission to the Tate and the National Gallery is free. I love that the Tate is so casual and accessible...that there were so many children with their classes or with their families, enjoying the art as easily as they would enjoy the state fair. It's easy to understand why fine arts are so integrated into mainstream culture here. Yet it doesn't diminish their love of pop culture. Thank goodness.

London Trip, Monday 10/3--Hyde Park

London's other, more feathery residents...

London Trip, Monday 10/3-- Chocolate at Harrod's

MMMMmmmmmmmmmm...

London Trip, Monday 10/3--Harrod's

There it is, the lighter building, on the left. Food? Furniture? Dolce & Gabbana? A treadmill? If you need it, they've got it. And more.

London Trip, Monday 10/3--I've stepped into another world....and another..and another..

Shopping!! bebe me girl loves to shop! Harrod's did not disappoint. Afterwards, to give our brains a break, we spent some time in Hyde Park and then finally made it to Hoxton Square in the evening.

• COCKFOSTERS!! Just for fun, I thought I'd throw in the name of my very favorite Tube station name. I never actually made it there since it was the very last stop on the Picadilly Line, probably way out in Zone 6 or something, but I loved to see the name and giggle. Can't take the girl out of a woman.
• If the mountain doesn't come to Muhammed... You know what my favorite store is, but still, I've always been a little sad that H & M hasn't made it to Dallas. That's ok, I'll just go to London then.
• I can't imagine the payroll at Harrod's. How many people do they have to employ in a seven floor department store? Enough to man the luxury washrooms on each floor, keep the fresh seafood in Food Hall poised under the glass cases as if they are posing for a photo session, work the 27 restaurants, pubs and coffee houses, not to mention the usual retail positions in each store within the store. Every store had different music to suit the merchandise and walking into every store felt like walking into another world. My favorite parts were the chocolate and candy counters and the second floor which consisted of haute couture, evening wear and the lots of boutiques..my favorite being the Jasmine DiMilo boutique. I liked the contemporary furniture stores, but I must say that I like cantoni in Dallas even better. I wonder... did Princess Diana had access to all the merchandise when she was dating Dodi? What a lovely thought...
• Am I still in London? We stepped out of the hustle and bustle for a walk through Hyde Park to enjoy the green grass and trees, the duck pond, and the boats.. Apparently, there are riders and horses somewhere, but we missed them.
• Tube Thoughts... I'm not too fond of having personal conversations while riding the Tube since everyone can hear you, so I did a lot of thinking on the Tube. We experienced our first rush evening rush hour on the tube. Not too bad as long as everyone uses soap. I started thinking... I'm only claustrophobic around people I know. I can be smushed between strangers on every side and feel a little physically uncomfortable, but not emotionally panicked. But there have been times when I've been surrounded by 5 or 6 family members, I feel a desperate need to break away and breathe. Is this weird? My next thougth was this: I'm a little directionally impaired, but I always say that if you just get me to any major freeway in Dallas, I can find my way home. So it was with the Tube. Get to any Tube station and anybody can find their way.
• Speaking of directions... I'm all for finding out how to do things by myself if I can, but when it comes to directions, I just ask. It saves a lot of time and hunger pangs. I don't know if it's the proverbial difference between a man and a woman, but it took us an hour to get to a restaurant that was about a 2 minute walk from our hotel because one of my companions (male) did not want to ask. Oh well, at least we burned some extra calories.
• New British Terminology: aubergine = eggplant
• New British Foods: Double Gloucester Cheese (again, it reminded me of cheddar)

London Trip, Sunday 10/2--Low Key London

Sunday was low key. We took another opportunity to see more of Soho/West End and spent time relaxing at the hotel.

• What is your food buffet personality? Today was the first day that our complimentary hotel breakfast fit into our schedule. My food buffet personality is to try a tiny, little bit of everything interesting. I end up with a really crazy looking plate of various 1/2 bites. (I'm sure that someone can read psychologically into this, but whatever). So this morning, I dove into the British culture and tried a bite of the following: Red Leciester Cheese (tastes kind of like Cheddar), black currant jelly, orange marmalade and something I'd never seen before called Marmit. I'll be honest. Marmit, to me, tastes like really, really salty, creamy soy sauce spread. In other words, bleccccccchh.

• A fireman is a fireman is a fireman. The fire alarm went off in our hotel and we all traipsed down many flights of stairs to the back of the building. Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing, but the ladies will be pleased to know that British firemen in uniform are just as hot as Amerian firemen in uniform.

London Trip, Saturday 10/1 -- History and Royal Culture Palooza

In order to experience the historic traditions of London, we signed up for a day tour, visiting the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, and Westminster Abbey. We finished the day with a cruise on the River Thames and a ride in a glass capsule on the London Eye, the highest observation wheel in the world, apparently.

• Pay phones? Try pay toilets. It was our first experience with paying to use the public toilets. I'm still not sure if it's to make money, to keep out undesirables or to keep the toilets nice-n-pretty. Not unlike a pedestrian tollway...
• Niles Crane is actually a tour guide for Premium Tours. An older, British version that is. I swear, the proper, TV character from Frasier was modeled after our tour guide, James. He even has the same head to body proportion. Weird.
• Give me rhinestones any day. I love anything shiny and glittery...basically, I like bling. Except for crown jewel bling, apparently. Crown jewels and ornate, solid gold punch bowls in the context of royal posessions to be revered made me a little sick. In fact, I was not impressed or awed, but identifed more closely with the people who revolted against monarchy. The rooms of clunky, showy armor didn't help. Nor did the stories of beheading and physical torture.
• "The Star" would have had a field day. Everyone likes a good celebrity female cat fight, right? The women of the royal families did not disappoint. ReeeOW. Sending your cousin (who came to you for refuge because she got kicked out of her country of which she was queen) to prison so that you will be the only queen around... that's harsh. And that's just one example.
• I don't remember ordering the Long John Silver special of the day. The tour pamphlet (leaflet) promised a river cruise with the "best" fish and chips in London. I love salt and vinegar and couldn't wait to try the real deal. I'm quite certain that the real thing is not foil-wrapped fish and chips, transported in boxes from Chinatown. And I know the real deal doesn't include tartar sauce and ketchup. Not a drop of vinegar in sight.
• A change in perspective... London really does look different from above. I loved the London Eye. It' s like a big ferris wheel on the River Thames, but the seats are giant, glass capsules and you can see from every angle as the wheel rotates.
• "Women's Bridge" I have to say that along with the London Eye, the highlight of the day for me was learning about the Waterloo Bridge, known as the "Women's Bridge." It was built entirely by women during war time. Girl Power is all over the world!
• British Terminology:

Leaflet = brochure

London Trip, Friday 9/30--National Gallery

National Gallery at Trafalgar Square

London Trip, Sat 10/1 - Women's Point of Interest #2

Henry VIII's Armor... Yes, I know what all the ladies are looking at... I know I was.

London Trip, Sat. 10/1--Women's Point of Interest #1

The Waterloo "Women's" Bridge ...

Built 100% by Women during war time