Slow Dancing

I guess I should give you a detailed update on my two dates/meetings this week. But instead I want to talk about the lost art form that is slow dancing to beautiful ballads.

Maybe I keep my radio on top 40 too much but I’m really missing ballads these days. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard a really good love song since I was a child. In those days, my mother kept a constant loop of Luther Vandross songs and my father was all about Phyllis Hyman. And of course, my father always played from his record collection Saturday mornings. I can recall many mornings of eating grits and bacon to background music provided by The Dells, The Platters, or Nancy Wilson.

I’d imagine that there are still good, new love songs out there, and that they just don't infiltrate all the club and dance songs that dominate the stations I listen to. That’s why you’ll see me tuning my radio to the Quiet Storm when I’m doing dishes in the evening—just like my mom and dad did when I was a kid. And oddly, the same songs that dominated the mix back then are still played. Which makes me think that there really isn’t much new out there.

And that brings me to the fact that I’ve been very interested in slow dancing. Whenever I listen to Sinatra or Ella, I imagine myself wearing a pretty dress and heels and gently swaying to the music, my eyes locked with those of a cute guy. That is a far cry from the bumping and grinding that goes on at all the bars and clubs in DC. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy booty shaking as much as any other 20-something girl. But now that I’m older, I long for the formality and the greater connection one can get through slow dancing. I think the last time I slow danced (with a person and not my stuffed hippo…) was with Floyd. We danced to Selena. It was very romantic. And I would take that over any other night of gyrating to Outkast, Ludacris, or anything else we danced to in those days.

A-M tells me that I need to get connected with the DC Hand Dancing clubs, and perhaps, the classes at Glen Echo.

I know that this all makes me sound like a crazy old lady. I’m only recently realizing how old fashioned and traditional I really am. Maybe it comes with age or maybe it's that this is my “authentic self.” Regardless, I am in search of some modern ballads for some wholesome slowdancing. I guess I should work on securing a dance partner first. As I know from experience, there is always a shortage of males at dancing classes.

On that note, I bombed my meeting with J. I went into it seeing it as an informational interview/networking opportunity—that was my cover and what I told myself so that I wouldn't get nervous and act weird. Unfortunately, I never directed our meeting into more social territory, and our hour-long chat barely left the realm of the professional. And I left with a new professional contact and not a date. But I'm still somewhat hopeful. My date today with O from Okcupid went okay, but I sense that I merely made a new friend. He is really nice but we'll see how things go on the next date, assuming he calls.

Thankfully, I am not discouraged (just frustrated). I look forward to going on more dates in the hopes that I'll someday, finally get it right and hit the jackpot.

Online Dating - Nightmare on Privacy

Last night, I had a horrible dream centering around Hannibal Lecter, with guest appearances by my male roommate (shirtless and glistening with sweat after a morning run, of course...). The plot of the nightmare centered around the lack of privacy of my online profile. Yes, very lame--except for the whole roommate part.

Needless to say, I woke up around 230 a.m. and immediately made changes to my online account. I created a new email address to handle the correspondence, scoured my descriptions for any possible TMI, and strengthened a handful of my web passwords.

It was a weird way for my subconscious to flag my anxiety about putting my picture on the web. Oddly enough, I didn’t wake up with nightsweats after posting pictures or info on Facebook—and we all know that FB has privacy issues.

Last night, I performed a google search of my name. I hate that my info shows up on those background check websites—as linked to my mother, sister, and even my father. Supposedly all the information out there is just compiled from public records—in addition to the stuff that I’ve put up (via work and on FB/MySpace). I can’t imagine anyway around it other than totally dropping off the grid, only paying cash, and living in cabin somewhere.

I will definitely continue to be mindful when the time comes to actually meet someone. I don't care to have any more nightmares about my online dating ventures. For a refresher, check out this site for a few tips about online dating safety.

Vampire Romance

I'm pretty good at making excuses. I've been too busy this year to write frequent posts, too lazy to work on my bye-bye arms, and too poor to travel beyond ATL. But I think my excuse for not being on track for finishing a draft of my novel by the end of the year is valid.

As I was swept away by the Twilight saga, I have be taken in by the Sookie Stackhouse series. Once skeptical and condescending, I am now a convert and undeniably hooked. The series is just so fun. It is entertaining with a fine mix of mystery, the supernatural, comedy, and romance. I tell myself that I am doing research for my book. While it true that I am getting ideas from the author--especially from how she has developed the characters and her style during the series, that is no excuse for choosing (most nights) to read instead of write.

I must write. I have about 3 weeks to finish the final two scenes before going back and to add fluff and fill out the back story. I guess that is the fun part but right now, nothing is more fun than finding out if Sookie ends up with Eric, Bill, Quinn, or someone else. I can only hope to develop my story and style so that readers can have an escape and an expression that is just as satisfying.

I simply must finish because my new year's creative resolution of acting awaits. I just hope that I don't get sidetracked by the other series I've heard about, Anita Blake. I love that I'm slightly branching out in terms of genres but I realize that at some point I will have to return to the classics, my home.

A shout-out to Organica for reminding me I have readers who enjoy the distraction that is my blog as much as I do.

WaPost on Twihards

Ah, this WaPost article captures how I truly feel about the Twilight saga.

I'm almost done re-reading book three. Then, it is on to book four, rewatching Twilight the movie, and finally, watching the new movie, New Moon... Hopefully, at that point the obsession will subside--at least until the next movie comes out this summer.

On a side note, I am smitten with Rob Pattinson. I actually found myself giggling when he was on the Today show this morning. Goodness, this series really has made me revert into a teenage girl.

Of course, I realize that I'm way too old for such a silly celebrity crush. But, I find him fascinating and disarming. I guess I haven't felt that way about a celebrity since the days of Jared Leto as Jordan Catellano. It's a little refreshing.

Balvenie Tasting

I believe that I shared my experiences at Johnny Walker and Macallen tasting events on this blog, so it is only fitting that I report back on the Balvenie tasting I attended this week with G.F.A. (We miss you A-M!). The tasting was intended to celebrate the new 17-year Madeira. It was held at PS7, a hip restaurant in Chinatown that I vaguely remember going to for dinner a few months ago. But I’m thinking that the experience/food wasn’t that memorable as I only remember a good salad and an odd desert.

First of all, let me complain about the venue. I don’t know who planned the event but they definitely need some lessons on fire code. I felt like a cow in a pen as they didn’t seem to have a strict rsvp or guest policy and instead opted to pack as many people into the inadequate room that they reserved for the event.

The tasting itself was pleasurable. I got to taste many of the hors d’oeuvres (pumpkin soup and lobster torchon!) that were paired with the 4 types of Balvenie scotch that freely flow at the different stations. I actually didn’t enjoy the Madiera-17, preferring the 15-wooden cask that supposedly had a higher alcohol count. Regardless, I was pretty drunk by the end of the night so G.F.A. and I headed to Five Guys to absorb all the scotch we imbibed.

That night, I also stole for the first time. It is shameful, I know. But I was set on getting a token for A-M. At all the other events, a memento pin (Johnny Walker) or glass (Macallen) was provided to the participants. So, I lifted one of the Balvenie-inscribed glasses. Hopefully, all the good karma points I’ve racked up over the years will spare me from any repercussions.

I was a great experience. I am still not sold on whiskey but after attending three events (and hearing all about its glorious wonders and history), I finally do have a greater appreciation of the dark liquor.

Little Terrors

I guess it makes me an old fogy, but I don’t understand kids today.

Tonight, I sat on my front porch, enjoying the cool night air and waiting for “Gray Cat” to arrive. There were a trio of teenagers across the street playing/terrorizing a dog and eventually they started standing on one of the cars. At first, I figured the dog got lose and they wanted to get out the way. But when they kept jumping on and off the car's hood and roof and then, doing the same to my neighbor's car, I decided to step in and give them a piece of my mind.

I don’t know on what planet it is okay to jump on someone’s car. Again, I would totally understand it if you were being chased by a rabid dog, but seriously, wtf. I find myself saying that a lot when I stroll around my neighborhood. The teenage girls with their baby strollers drive me absolutely crazy. These kids need a reality check. I’d prefer it to come from a stern grandmother/older sibling/teacher, but instead it often comes from a brush with death, jail time or the reality of providing for a child when you are child.

First, let me say that the immaturity and delusionment extends beyond my DC hood. It is in suburban NoVA and MD, just in a different form.

I am tired of rolling my eyes at the ignorance and bad choices of the kids in my neighborhood and elsewhere. Seeing their excess, disregard and ignorance makes me wonder if the future as suggested by “Idiocracy” really is a possibility.

Of course, I blame the parents for indulging/ignoring their kids. But I recognize that "it takes a village" to ensure that a child stays on the right path. Tonight was a reminder that I simply must start volunteering with kids again. And it called to mind the old Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes' line:

The world won't get no better if we just let it be
The world won't get no better we gotta change it yeah, just you and me.

Broken Mirror = Bad Luck?

This morning, I noticed that the hand mirror I tote around in my bag had shattered. I think that it broke last weekend when a friend stepped on my bag. It is sad to lose that particular mirror because it belonged to my father and also, Floyd said it was designed for cutting coke in the 1970s. I thought that was cool.

I am a bit spooked about breaking the mirror. I remember a hand mirror breaking when I was a child and not thinking anything of it. But these days anything affiliated with black magic and superstitions freak me out. As a result, I particularly feel the need to defend myself against the possibility of 7 years of back luck or whatever other ills that sites like this detail.

I believe that fiddling with the dark arts opens you up to the dark arts. The junior high sleep-over standards of Ouija, Bloody Mary, Stiff as a Board, etc shouldn’t be viewed as just games. I wish I didn’t take me until after high school to figure that out. That’s when I gave away the voodoo doll and other items my friend gave me after a trip to New Orleans, and when I regretted summoning my deceased father during a séance. I didn’t know better then. Now I do.

While I recognize that we are surrounded by supernatural entities on a regular basis, I prefer to not recognize or seek them out lest I end up beckoning something that would do me wrong.

So, tonight I will probably contemplate burying the crushed mirror shards in the moonlight to rid myself of the supposed curse. But, most likely, I will wrap them in newspaper, say a prayer and throw them away.

The Hottest Ticket in Town

I think I need to find a cave and hide for the next 75 days.

Yesterday, I got my first request for inauguration tickets, and I imagine that other folks are going to come out of the woodworks, assuming that I have a special connection to the ticket stashes.

I don't.

I'm just hoping that I can get into January's festivities—the swearing-in ceremony, parade, official inaugural balls, State of the Union address, etc.

Here's my recommendation for those interested in watching the ceremony. Call your U.S. senators and/or Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies. A website for the Presidential Inaugural Committee should be up soon too. Also, this WPost article is a good primer.

As for the balls, most state societies have official balls. Numerous organizations and entities will also host unofficial celebratory parties and events. Keep your eyes open.

The good thing is that there will be a lot of festivities happening all over the city—some exclusive, some not. So no matter what, you'll be able to toast to our new president and to a new day in America.

Vote! Vote! Vote!

What an exciting day! I woke up earlier than normal this morning just thinking about the importance of Election Day. Today, Americans will vote and decide the future direction of our nation.

Obama has my vote. I hope and pray that he wins. When he does, tonight will truly be an unbelievable occasion for celebration.

I can't wait for the House and Senate to take more seats. With D-domination, we'll be able to push for so many important reforms to ensure that EVERY American has an opportunity to achieve their dreams.

I wish everyone a great election day and a quick and easy experience at the polls. Go Vote! Go get out the Vote!

Love at the Club: Maybe it does happen

A month ago, I went to The Park with a coworker, Lacy. As I wrote in my blog, she found a "new boy toy." That new boy toy is now her boyfriend, and he is quality. What's up with that?

The old mantra is that you can't find a good man at the bar/club. My friends know the sort of "quality" I found in the bar last summer. And, all my friends have stories about the horrible guys they've met at the bar/club.

On a typical night out in Adam's Morgan, you tend to find three types of guys: single guys (A), unfaithful, attached guys (B), and faithful, attached guys (C). Guy C is aiming to get drunk and spend the night puking in the street. Guys A and B are aiming to get drunk and screw whatever relatively cute girl will have them. Given that that is what I encounter most often in Adam's Morgan (and many of the other bars I frequent in DC), it's no wonder that my expectations of finding Mr. Right in a club/bar are so low.

This is why I was worried for Lacy. Each day, she would tell me about their progress and their plans for the week. They seemed to be moving so fast. I was happy for her, but skeptical—and waiting for the big reveal.

Lacy and her man just celebrated their one month anniversary, and there is so much potential for their relationship. He is a quality guy and they have great chemistry.

So maybe I should reevaluate my viewpoint. Maybe, there are gems among all the duds at the bar/club. I guess that as a single girl, I should never automatically discount guys that I encounter in specific situations. You just never know.

Capitol Dome Tour

I recently took a Capitol Dome Tour. My supervisor spent forever trying to organize the outing but it was so worth the wait. It was an amazing experience.

I thought I was going to die, climbing up (and down) all those steep, narrow steps. But I made it without injury. It was so fascinating to learn that the current dome was built over the original dome and that we were able to walk between the two on our way up to the observation levels. I’m slightly afraid of heights, so the view down was a bit unsettling. The little dots are people on tours. So far up--- 152 feet!

I don’t know how Constantino Brumidi and later artists did it. Climbing those stairs everyday and standing on a wooden platform in order to create the frieze. What an ability to establish proportion and shading that looks amazing from a few feet away and even more realistic and vivid from afar.

The view from the top was spectacular. It was a beautiful, breezy day. We all took lots of pictures and marveled at the view and Lafayette’s plan for the city. I enjoyed the bird’s eye view of the Senate’s private tennis court and hearing about the Supreme Court’s basketball court (top floor). I could have stayed up there forever.

What a great tour. I learned so much and gained an even deeper appreciation for the beauty and historicalness (is that a word?) of the buildings that I pass by and work under every day.

Share the Sidewalk

One of my biggest pet peeves since moving to Columbia Heights is the alarming amount of encounters with folks riding bicycles on the sidewalk. Not just riding, but speeding along on the sidewalk--irrespective of whom or what else is in their way. It isn't just annoying but dangerous to pedestrians.

Despite the wonders of sidewalk cycling that have been professed, I don't understand why the cyclists in my 'hood insist on using sidewalks when there are perfectly sound streets and even a few bike lanes for their passage. I know that the DC streets are dangerous as I've witnessed and heard about countless pedestrian and bicycle accidents in DC. Taxi drivers and out-of-towners are particularly prone to ignoring traffic signals and signs and not staying within lanes. But that is no reason to transfer that risk and danger to the sidewalk and unsuspecting pedestrians like me.

So here are my simple suggestions for sidewalk cyclists:

1) Slow Down. If you want to go fast, try the street. The sidewalk should be the domain of the pedestrian. I don't mind dealing with little kids on bikes, skates, and scooters as they rarely are going fast. But an adult cyclist going several mph faster than I is ridiculous. Getting hit by a bike won't cause as many injuries as getting hit by a car—but that is no reason to put my flesh at risk.

2) Right of Way. Pedestrians have the right of way on the sidewalks. Don't even try to rush us or force us off to the side to let you by. If you feel the need to go faster, use the street. Same rule goes for those really narrow sidewalks where I have, in the past, stepped into the street to let a cyclist by. Also, in really crowded areas (e.g., DCUSA), it makes the most sense and is safer to get off your bike and walk along side it.

3) Pass on Left and Indicate your approach sooner rathern than later. I cannot count the number of times I either heard an approaching bike or heard a random "on the left" a mere seconds before having to jump aside to avoid a collision.

So, that's it. It's really simple. Please stop putting me at risk. It's not fair and I'd imagine it's not legal (or at least, shouldn't be).

Festivals Galore

After last Sunday's Fiesta D.C in Mt. Pleasant and last month's raucous Adam's Morgan Day, Columbia Heights finally gets its day to shine. Check out the CHD website for the schedule of events, noting the cupcake eating contest.

I almost forgot about Fiesta D.C., and if I wasn't forced to leave my house on Sunday due to dwindling food supplies, I would have missed it. As I headed down 16th, deciding if I wanted to venture to Giant or Safeway (both annoying and inadequate), I was greeted by lots of traffic. That's when I noticed the crowds and bandstand over on Mt. Pleasant Street. There were LOTS of booths. The parade of nations was cool, and I enjoyed seeing my new parade favorite, Bolivian dance groups. Before I left, I was reminded of the ignorance of others when I overheard this guy yell into his cell phone "Hey Dude – I'm at this awesome Mexican Festival!" You cannot be serious. But perhaps, he is exactly the sort that should be welcomed to such an event in order to get educated.

I resisted buying any mouthwatering food on display in favor of heading to Giant to buy supplies for my own Mexican feast. Thanks to Floyd's coaching, I made enchiladas with lime-avocado rice and refried beans. It was very good and surprisingly authentic. I've been dying for a real home cooked meal for a while, and especially dying for Mexican food (what I wouldn't give for Floyd's arroz con pollo!!). I think a soul food feast should be next.

Screen on the Green: The Candidate

I ended up going to Screen on the Green last night. I had planned on going to sleep early but I grew restless around 7. I always say what's the use of having principles if you don't live by them. In the case of my "say yes whenever possible to social outings" rule, it was time to practice what I preach. So I grabbed a bus down to the Mall and met up with a former coworker and two of her friends.

Last night's showing was of The Candidate. I had seen the movie before, in high school, but it was nice to see it again—especially in light of this crazy election year. It is amazing how many of the themes, perspectives and issues that arise in the movie are still applicable today and to this year's presidential election (e.g., race, age, international conflict, the environment, the economy, and energy). It was a great, fun movie with good performances.

Aside from the few annoying bugs, late arrivers/early leavers, and this huge dog that was sitting near us and keep inching closer and closer to our space, it was a good experience. I always seem to forget how beautiful this city is at dusk and at night. Seeing The Candidate with the Capitol in the background was amazing and drew home the fact that I'm in an amazing city—full of selfless idealists who are fighting to make the world better, edgy wonks who are doing a great job of deciphering/muddling up the debate, and evil-doers/ambitious pricks that are only after glory, money and fame. I'm in the first camp, though my idealism wanes. I plan on fleeing this city before my dreams of a paradigm shift are totally crushed by the stark reality of the man, the machine, and money.

What’s in a name?

Yes, another posting about names.

I watched the Tyra Show during my lunch break today. It was all about how people judge others based on their name. The show was quite inciting, and reminded me of how racist this country continues to be.

The show reminded me of a study that was conducted awhile back in which duplicate resumes were submitted to different firms—one with a "white-sounding" name and one with "black-sounding" name. The results were that the "white-sounding" named resume got call-backs more often.

In the case of my own name, I have a more "white-sounding" name than my sister. I wonder if she was judged differently based on her name. I love my name but it doesn't reflect my background. My first name is English, my middle name is French and my last name is Spanish. Yet, I am African-American.

I anticipate naming my children Cora Francis and Anthony [unsure of middle name]---derived from the names of my great grandparents and my father. These names were not choosen to reflect a nationality, but in honor of my ancestors. I hope that by the time my children grow up, they won't have to face such stereotypes based on something they have no control over.

It's a sad but true fact that our lives are governed by stereotypes and other quick-clues based on past experience and (mis)information. But we should always fight those stereotypes and remember how hurtful they are when directed at ourselves.

Start Spreading the News

Blame it on SATC, but I want to live in NYC.

Yes, I've been talking about moving to NYC since high school. But my initial thought of moving to NYC after Peace Corps (and a sojourn in Europe) has become a thought of moving to New York in lieu of going to the Peace Corps or continuing on the Hill. Shameful, I know. Selfish, I know. But I can't shake my idyllic vision of a year (2009) in NYC. It would be expensive and challenging but so rewarding and memorable.

Like Jennifer Hudson admitted in SATC, I want to move to NYC to find love and labels (i.e., beautifully cut clothes made with amazing fabrics).

Ah, SATC. I saw it on Friday with a few girlfriends. It was very enjoyable and I'd give it an 8 out of 10. I made me laugh, cry, and reconsider my approach to life and love. Mostly, it made me want to move to NYC, invest in a brand new wardrobe and find a man like BIG who'll support me and my budding fashionista ways. Well, no—that's not true. School made me a bit too leftist to buy-in to the capitalist-consumerism propaganda so evident in the movie (A pair of shoes cannot define me. My character defines me). Yet, I do buy into the idea that NYC is the perfect place for young folks with big dreams (or old folks with lots of money).

Memorial Day Thoughts

I love men in uniform.

Last night, I went to an event attended by veterans. I guess my supervisor’s husband noticed me checking out the Marines because he asked, “Are you single? I know my wife likes men in uniform. How about you?” I didn’t respond other than to laugh and to keep laughing at my own good fortune. So many Marines, so little time. Ahh, if only we had gone to NYC during Fleet Week!

Let me say it again: I love men in uniform. Particularly military uniforms but I also like men in well-made suits and even cute police officers. I guess it’s the idea that they are disciplined, strong and able to protect me from harm.

I got to chat with one Marine last night. We started talking about music but the conversation soon turned to guns and war. He was only 20 and joined the Marines right out of high school to serve during the current conflict. He told me he’d rather die young out in the field serving his country than as an old man here at home. That is very valiant and brave but as I told him, I’d rather die as an old lady surrounded by all my grandkids and great-grandkids. I’m just as patriotic as the next person and I respect the service of the military. In fact, when I was young, I often thought about joining the Air Force or Navy because it seemed exciting and honorable. But no matter how much I respect the military and want to honor my country, I can’t see myself having a gun or being a part of killing someone else--even if from hundreds of miles away and for the “right” cause. I think it is wrong to end another life and no hypothetical or real situation can undermine that core belief. People say that war is a necessary evil but there just has to be another way... (Right now Lennon’s “Imagine” is looping in my head.)

It pisses me off that so many of my generation are perishing or becoming injured in the current conflict. These are our brothers and sisters, best friends and lovers, parents and role models that have sacrificed in the name of America. I honor them but I do not honor the leaders that started all this. I understand the perceived need to “defend the homeland” but I plead for another way. Another world in which people put aside their differences, greed, and selfish interest for the greater good. I believe in a peaceful world and I hope to figure out how to create that world. I want our military men and women to serve, but I want them to serve honorably in an time of infinite peace.

I love America but more than that, I love the Earth/creation/the cosmos. I want to defend America but more than that I want to defend the Earth/creation/the cosmos.

Gosh, I don't know where all that come from. Here's the bottomline: I hope that I'm around and healthy long enough to truly experience the world. And you better believe that I want to be around to admire and ogle many more young men in uniform. And perhaps one day, I'll snag one of my own.

NYC Foreva!

I had such a hard time waking up this morning. I didn't sleep much all weekend and I feel so sluggish and icky today. But it was worth it. It was totally worth it.

This weekend, I fell in love with New York all over again. The energy and diversity of the city is phenomenal. I've been to NYC a few times and on those occasions I did the normal touristy stuff. That's why I'm so happy that I got to experience the NYC beyond Manhattan's tourist traps. Here are a few of the highlights

The Farm on Adderly in Brooklyn
I ate the best French toast that I've ever had at this place. Honestly, it was immaculate and amazing. Everyone cleaned their plates.

InSpaWorld in Flushing
"I can't breathe," I told A-M when we entered the 190+ degree sauna. I tried probably 5 out of the 6 saunas at this megaplex. No, I didn't hang out in the same-sex "naked pool" because I haven't overcome my body issues. Maybe next time.

Iggy's on the Upper East Side
I finally got to sing Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" with A-M. That song has been in my head for a while. I got out some residual angst over last summers's foray. Although A-M's and my rendition did not rile-up the crowd like L-M's songs, it was fun. Mostly, it felt really cool to be on stage with all eyes on me (okay, so probably no more than a dozen.).

Other highlights were riding on the 6 (JLo!) and in the front seat of the cab for a trip to Queens. Wow, these cabbies (and all the other drivers) don't seem to understand the concept of lanes and speed limits. And everyone is horn happy.

As we were leaving, I couldn't help but wonder how soon I could visit again. As was noted, I now know folks to crash with in Brooklyn and should start planning my next trip. Perhaps, in June when L-M2 go up for a birthday celebration. But most likely, I'll be up during the heat of August recess to check out Central Park, the area around Prospect Park, Christopher Street, Spanish Harlem (supposedly the birthplace of salsa)...I could go on!

I heart NYC, and I just can't wait to return!

Do I really need this Crackberry?

I've become one of "them." One of those annoying people carrying around a Blackberry. My Blackberry was activated yesterday and I found myself on the metro yesterday evening checking my email. I hate, hate, hate having a blackberry because it ties me to my job after the workday is over. I don't see why such a lowly staffer as myself needs one and I fear that I will end up checking my messages at inopportune times like so many other folks do.

For example, there have been so many times that I've been talking to someone and they pause to check their Blackberry. "Keep talking. I'm listening," they tell me. Yeah, right. It's so rude and I don't think that anyone is so important that they need to be connected 24/7 to their job. Same goes for cell phones. I always observe the right to keep my phone on silent or turned off. I don't want folks to have constant access to me and the ability to invade my free time.

So I have a Blackberry, but I refuse to become addicted. For now, it sits in my bag turned off--right next to my silenced cell phone.

Get your choo-choo on

Tomorrow is National Train Day. According to the site,

On May 10, 1869, in Promontory Summit, Utah, the "golden spike" was driven into the final tie that joined 1,776 miles of the Central Pacific and Union Pacific railways, ceremonially creating the nation’s first transcontinental railroad. And America was transformed.

NTD will be celebrated this Saturday in DC, LA, Chicago and NYC. In D.C., National Train Day Spokesperson Al Roker will join the Amtrak CEO to celebrate "the way trains connect people and places." I’ve already addressed my love of trains on this blog before, so I guess there is no need to iterate. But the celebration at Union Station this Saturday sounds pretty cool--specially the historic train tour and the free concert with Sara Bareilles (Sara who?).