“Don’t Bring Sand to the Beach”

“You wouldn’t want to bring sand to the beach” this is what my supervisor said to me when I was contemplating scrounging up a date or two for the two weddings I had this past Saturday. Yes two. On the same day, at almost exactly the same time. Two hours apart. And I’ve known about this dilemma for a year and a half! Somehow two of my good friends (who don’t know each other obviously) managed to pick the same date over a year before the big day. And knowing that far ahead didn’t make it any easier to figure out what to do. I kept hoping one would be a morning wedding and one would be an evening wedding. But no, they were both afternoon weddings with 5pm reception times.

But I did manage to hit the two weddings with one stone, and by stone I mean smoking hot shoes. Ok, actually I had two pairs of shoes, but in my defense I had originally packed a pair of flats as a back up pair, but then at the after party I had to take my heels off and I had forgotten flip-flops so suddenly it looked like I had just changed shoes just for the after party:

Anyway, so my crazy plan to hit one ceremony and one reception actually worked out beautifully. I saw the ceremony of one and arrived part way through the cocktail hour of the second. I was disappointed of course to not see both ceremonies or both receptions, but this was the best solution I could come up with!

As for the sand at the beach comment-I think my supervisor and I have different experiences at the beach-usually I’m under an umbrella with SPF 70 on… And then at the weddings I discovered everyone had already combed the beach and there wasn’t a single or non-engaged man to be found. (Which reminds me that I think men should wear engagement rings as well, though apparently some of these men were even “pre-engaged” and in that case maybe they ought to just carry the damn ring in their pocket).

Mostly I wanted the sand to keep me company on the two-hour drive between the ceremony and the reception. Instead it was just me singing along loudly to my iPod (which maybe explains why I didn’t have company in the car). So at work today I offered to show my boss pictures from the weddings, but she just wanted to know if I’d hooked up with anyone. I informed her that unfortunately every guy I checked out was spoken for. Her response was “Well, think of it this way: maybe you ruined a marriage. Maybe some guy had his eye on you and is thinking about you now, you know?” Startling comment for a wedding reception. I’m not really sure the appropriate response “I should hope so!” or maybe “I should hope not!”

casual to who?

Inspired by the episode of The Office called “Casual Fridays” I took careful note of the casual Friday in my office today. And I have to ask if “casual” is a synonym for “frumpy”? I saw many similarities to my office and The Office. Inappropriate sayings on t-shirts, clothing way too tight, clothing way too loose, clothing un-matching.

Does casual mean you don’t have to try and match your clothing anymore? Sure people let loose on the weekend, but it’s still Friday, let’s save something for Sunday-there’s a reason we don’t live together.

Does it mean it doesn’t have to fit you? (over sized or undersized-I’ve seen both and enjoyed neither). I don’t really want to see the people I work with “letting it all hang out”-there’s a reason we tuck in. I mean sure it lets you express your individuality, but I can’t take an individual seriously when their shirt isn’t meeting their pants-that goes for the pregnant women too. I don’t mind the men in their favorite sports jerseys-that’s the kind of fully covered individuality I can get behind. Or the t-shirt your friend made supporting nachos ny (guilty!)

But maybe I have a different idea of causal Friday. I’m just trying to show how well I can put together an outfit involving jeans. Though I apparently am not allowed to show how well I can put an outfit together involving knee-length work shorts. Chest tattoos that proclaim “SEXY” on women and undershirts with baggy khakis for men are cool, but shorts longer than skirts I’ve seen-could I be so bold? And flip flops are a no as well. I get it, they’re casual wear, but isn’t it casual Friday? I run every day just in the hopes that my calves are arguably more subtly pleasing to behold than a bold “sexy” tattoo. But maybe I should get that on my leg and then I’d be in the clear?

Fill your lungs with this.

In an effort to experience some more local touristy sites this weekend I checked out Celtic Fest in Bethlehem, PA. I saw the most talented musician I have ever seen in my life: I saw a man smoking a cigarette while playing the flute. We used to laugh about a fellow orchestra member who was a heavy smoker and a bassoonist. We could never figure out how/why he was destroying his lungs while being so dedicated to a wind instrument. But this was on a whole new level-and underneath a “NO SMOKING” sign. I mean how did he get this skill? Which came first? The smoking or the flute?

Did he just realize one day that he couldn’t take the time off from smoking to play with the band: “Should I quit the band? or quit smoking? If only I could think of a solution…eureka! I will learn to smoke while playing the flute.”

Or maybe he auditioned for the band while smoking and playing the flute. “You know our band could use another member, what could fill this hole? Why a smoking flautist! It’s genius!”

It was not a metal flute, but a wooden one, more like a recorder. But that means it was made of wood-which increases the fire risk! I mean just think, every deep breath he took he inhaled smoke! I didn’t see smoke rings coming out of the flute, but I wish I had. With that kind of lung power, just think what he could do! I was hoping play the bag pipe, but maybe he’s still working up to it.

Oh yeah, he was also wearing a kilt.

Are those smoke rings I see?

Smokey rocks out

Chocolate Log

I’ve mentioned that shout wipes are a must when packing-both in my purse and extras in my suitcase. I’m fairly clumsy to begin with. Add traveling to that which means you don’t always know when you will have a chance to wash your clothes and you get a mess-or at least I get a mess. I’m always impressed on TV shows were people get off planes and buses looking fabulous. I get off looking rumpled with as many bags under my eyes as I have checked at baggage claim.

On the flight to Italy when I studied abroad I was sitting away from the rest of the group and I was proud of myself for remaining calm with no one’s hand to squeeze for take off. I imagined I looked quite calm and relaxed. Then the food tray came around and when I popped the top off the yogurt it exploded all over me including my glasses. Just great-another 7+ hours to go in these clothes and I’m now covered in crusted strawberries.

But dried strawberries are nothing to the disaster I created on my clothing on the orchestra tour to South Africa. One night a bunch of us were hanging out in our hotel room. I was laying across one of the beds on my back, chatting for a few hours. When I got up, I found something nasty underneath me. It was chocolate. One of those little chocolate mints that nice hotels place on your pillow had become chocolate fondu under my lower back and rump. Yes, I know what it looked like. It looked like a mess. I feel sorry for the hotel cleaning staff when they found that the next day… Of course the story spread around the orchestra. Notably songs about my mess were created to the tune of “O Fortuna” which was one of the pieces we were playing. Even the orchestra conductor got in on the fun by getting someone to get me off the tour bus so he could stick a chocolate candy aptly named “chocolate log”  that he found at a rest stop on my seat.

Look before you sit.

That is one large whale.

A friend of mine from high school recently posted this picture from her trip to Japan. Not only is it a classic sign but it is aptly appropriate for me…who once was confused about what a tsunami was. It was either 7th or 8th grade English and we were all writing research papers. It was one of those classes where the teacher had the bright idea that we all exchange papers and do edits on the papers of our classmates. (Not only did we have to write a boring paper, now we had to read someone else’s) So I read this on kid’s entire paper on tsunami’s and when I got to the end I was skeptical to say the least. In the first sentence I had managed to read “A tsunami is a large whale” which offset the entire essay. I’m sure the kid wrote “wave” multiple times throughout the essay, but I kept reading whale. How could a whale get that far on shore? How could it cause people to drown? How could it get that high? I mean I knew whales grew to be big, and I knew sometimes they got beached, but this was ludicrous! Of course instead of rereading the paper I asked one of my friend’s how this was possible so the story got quite famous. As late as senior year kids from that English class would ask me what a tsunami was. As my friend pointed out on this picture-that could kind of look like a whale tail, right?