Snow bunnies and ballerinas

Beginning around Tuesday or Wednesday I started seeing weather reports on this huge winter storm system headed for the south. And as of Thursday night, as that system was reaching its tentacles across the better part of this great nation, our worthy local weather people were calling for "a chance of 1 or 2 inches," but more than likely we'd just get "a light dusting."

Well, someone has some explaining to do.

Saturday, 12:30 p.m. "A light dusting" on my street.

Escalator at the metro, 12:32 p.m.

Kennedy Center, 4:30 p.m. Still snowing.

And why was I at the Kennedy Center on a snow day? To see the ballet, of course. Because when I bought tickets on Monday there was never a hint that come Saturday I'd have to trudge through 4 inches of snow to see American Ballet Theatre perform Romeo and Juliet. But I did and it was worth it.

I absolutely adore the ballet and this is just my second time to see a performance in person. I got a deal on great seats and it was my first show in the Opera House, which is magnificent. I didn't realize when I bought them that it was ABT performing, and if I had I might have picked a different show so I could have seen some of the dancers I am more familiar with. But it was still a very well-danced and produced performance and a great way to spend a "lightly dusted" Saturday.

Friday Soapbox

This week I've:

• Fallen on the metro escalator.
  
• Twice.
• Same escalator, same knee.
  
• Cut my finger while cutting carrots.
• And then wore a pirate bandaid to work.
• Missed my cup when pouring hot water for tea and got my hand instead.
• Been unbearably cold 90% of the time.
  

But I've also:

• Had champagne on three different days.
• Searched for "Audrey Hepburn" on Etsy and fell in love.
• Uploaded a year's worth of pictures to Facebook.
• Finally used the sewing machine I got for my birthday.
  
• In January 2009.
• Had an amazing dinner with a friend.
• Volunteered.

So the verdict is still out on how the week went. All I know is right now I'm watching musicals in my pajamas while drinking tea. So it's all good.

London Calling, Literally

There have been some changes at my work in the past month, one of which is that we now get paid twice a month instead of just once. In other words, I guess I'm like the 99% of the rest of the world and their bi-monthly pay schedule. Boring. The thing is, I complained about it often the past two years. Like when it got down to the end of the month and I had to choose between eating, and not eating. But now, of course, I actually miss getting just the one lump sum at the beginning. The grass is always greener...

So Friday was payday which in my world, no matter how hard I try to fight it, always means shopping! Though I did fight it Friday, at least. I was ready to head to Target after work for some true necessities -- seriously, like laundry detergent and face wash -- but then I got sidetracked by happy hour which got a bit too happy. And as much fun as it might be to shop at Target tipsy, I headed home instead. Which was probably a good idea since when I went Saturday they had something like this:


A foot-tall London phone booth replica. Had I gone Friday after two glasses of wine, you know I would be the proud owner of one. I still might be the proud owner, actually, because I think it's quite cute. Except what I'm really holding out for is the real thing, a la How I Met Your Mother.


They say landlines are dead, and I don't have one now, but if I had this, well actually, I still wouldn't have a landline. But I would just sit inside with my cell phone and be happy. Because London phone booths make me very happy.

Requisite tourist shot. London 2005.

Friday Soapbox

Things that broke my heart this week:

• Massachusetts. Oh, Mass. You talk funny and now you vote funny. This just makes me sad on many levels.
  
• Carolina basketball. Already mentioned, see post below.
• NBC.Team Conan all the way! WTF, NBC? I've never found Leno funny and I just don't get the appeal.
  
• And related, Jay Leno to host White House Correspondent's Dinner. Again, I repeat, WTF? I just don't find him funny. And that "heh heh" chuckle thing he does makes my skin crawl; I don't trust it.
• John Edwards. Yes, I highly doubt anyone on the planet doubted he was the father. But still, I used to really admire him and appreciate what he stood for. Or should I say "stood" for since I'm not sure if I believe anything he's ever said now. And of course the fact that he's a Carolina boy makes it even worse.
  

Bang Head Here

I can't believe I'm using one of my favorite lines of The Little Prince to discuss basketball, but I am. And let's face it, basketball is just the starting point for many of life's great quandries.

"You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed."

That's kind of how I feel about Carolina basketball lately. You set your watch, mood, and heart by it and you get burned. All the things done to tame yourself in the ways of something outside yourself have no place here. No matter what socks you wear, how hard you hit the couch, how many curses you shout, it's beyond your control. My lucky socks aren't going to make them catch a pass. Hitting the couch isn't going to keep them from turning over the ball. And cursing isn't making them play with heart.

But that's the risk you take when you let yourself be tamed. And it's certainly better than the alternative: being a fan of some other team. (Ugh, perish the thought!)

Though I truly hope the rest of the season doesn't cause me to continue to do this:


Because it's really not good for my head. Or my back. Or my attempts at normality.

A lot of Spam (Or, I think that I think too much.)

My Gmail does a great job of keeping spam mail out of my inbox. Which means if I were smart I would never have to see all the grammatically offensive and biologically impossible missives. But since I just can't ignore that little number that appears when a new nonsensical message enters my folder...

...I am constantly clicking, opening, and "deleting forever" unwanted mail. (And also because occasionally wanted mail ends up there, and I'm scared I'm going to miss something good.)

For the most part, the messages are nothing new. Increase the size of your [incorrectly spelled description of, you know]! Cheap (Faux)Rolexes! A Nigerian Prince just wants to love you, won't you pay him $1000.00 to do so! Verify your non-existent Bank of America account! Vicodin for half off! (Ok, some days, that one is tempting.)

Except yesterday I got this one:

Maybe this one has been around awhile too, but it's new to me.

I'm so tempted to at least open it. Maybe I did run across someone on the metro or at Barnes and Noble, and maybe she interpreted my holding my purse closer to me or pointedly turning the volume up on my iPod, as an offer to help her find a man.

Because, you know, if there's one thing I'm good at it, it's finding rich available men to marry. No, really, I am turning them away. I'm just too selfish to turn them to a Russian emailer's way; Americans are greedy like that.

My favorite part is that it's from "me." I hate when spammers do this. I am constantly sending myself mail and if there was one way to trick me into opening a virus, that would be it.

Until I receive further proof from "me" that she has exhausted all her other outlets in finding a man, I think I'll just continue to hoard them and placate them with Rolexes and Vicodin.

And maybe I'll stay out of my Spam folder for a while. Like the subject says, I think that I think too much.

Friday Soapbox

I've been congested for nearly two weeks now. It started as a terribly runny nose that I thought would lead to a cold, but has instead clung to me this past week as severe congestion. I couldn't sleep Monday or Tuesday night, before finally finding some nighttime medicine that worked and knocked me out the past two nights. (Which was especially nice when I missed the end of that dreadful basketball game on Wednesday.)

I've gone through two boxes of tissues, one at work and one at home, and I know my office is tired of hearing me blow my noise, sniffle, and groan, "Ugh I just want to breathe!" And yes, I should probably think about going to the doctor, but I hate doctors.

I am going to let this not-a-cold die out, I hope, and plan on taking it easy this weekend, for the most part. Going through my financial papers, clearing out at least two-feet of magazines, and maybe a movie.

Oh, how exciting, the life of a 20-something!

Movie review: Up in the Air

On Sunday I saw Up in the Air, which I've been dying to see for more than a month. To say it didn't disappoint would be an understatement. I immediately wanted to see it again and bumped it up onto the list of "most favorite movies."

It was well written and acted, funny, and sad. There was one plot flaw that bugged me, but not enough to dislike it. (Though I could see it bugging other people a lot.)

The review from Entertainment Weekly sums it up better than I can:

"A rare and sparkling gem of a movie. It’s light and dark, hilarious and tragic, romantic and real. It’s everything Hollywood has forgotten how to do."

Now I am a huge George Clooney fan and since I'd watch a movie about him watching paint dry, I might be biased. But I truly think he is an amazing actor who really embodies the characters he plays and make people care. And I never realized how soothing his voice was until this movie. Very peaceful, very calming.

All in all I'd highly recommend it.

Say my name, say my name

Why is it so hard for people to remember my name?

In my entire life, I have probably met five other Bonnies, one of whom was my grandmother I was named after. And yet people are constantly blanking on my name, or even forgetting I exist. (That would be you, Women in Mass Comm professor. Every time I'd stay after class to talk to her, she'd look at me like I was a stranger.) Is it because it's not as prevalent people can't remember it? Do people just not even try?

All I know is, this is really becoming a self-esteem killer.

10 Years

In 2000 I...

• Turned 16
  
• Was a sophomore in high school
  
• Lived at home with my parents, younger brother, and our dear dog Peanut (who died later that year)
  
• Dreamt of being a student at UNC
• Wanted to one day live in Paris or New York
  
• Was entering year 2.5 of braces
  
• Was not driving
  
• Thought I'd become a lawyer
  
• Wanted to be married by 25
  
• Loved NSYNC
• Had a core group of friends, and two really "best" friends
  
• Wanted to be an adult
  

In 2010 I...

• Turned 26
  
• Am approaching my 2 year anniversary at my current job
  
• Live in an apartment on Capitol Hill with a roommate
  
• Am a UNC alum!
• Have been to Paris, New York, and many other places, and lived in London
  
• Have straight teeth
  
• Still don't drive
  
• Want to go to grad school for...something
  
• Refuse to marry before 30 and even then...
  
• Still love NSYNC, and they will reunite one day, but my heart lies with U2 now
• Have a core group of friends, but from college. Still talk to the two high school "best" ones, though.
  
• Am not at all interested in this whole "adult" thing
  

2000
Part of a school portrait I had done with my best friend. Yes, it has been 10 years, but I'm still incredibly self-conscious about the teenage years so this is the best I'm willing to share, a photo of a photo, the only one from 2000 I have with me.


2010
Opening gifts on my 26th birthday. Thank goodness I grew out those bangs. Boobs stayed the same size, though.


Maybe pulling out the 2000 photo wasn't so bad. I'm still all kinds of awkward, but I had a Snickers bar tonite, something I couldn't do when I had braces. It's all ok in the end.

In God's Country

Flickr updated with pictures.

I really should just change the name of this blog to A Love Letter to Carolina since I think I talk about home, UNC, and Chapel Hill more than just about anything.

And there's your warning. Because here I go again.

On the 30th, Joey and I headed up to CH to spend the day ahead of the basketball game that night. It was the best day I've had in Chapel Hill in a long time, maybe since I left for good, simply because I had so much time. We went in all the good Franklin Street stores, ate at Pizza and Pasta, walked across campus several times, and then while waiting for our aunt and cousin, got to just sit and relax with sweets and cider at Sugarland. (Which wasn't even there when I was a student, but is quickly becoming a favorite.)

Joey walking on the quad

(Background. Just about since I started at Carolina, whenever Joey heard me talk about Polk Place, aka the quad, or he walked through it, he would adopt this hoity prep school-esque accent and say "summers on the quad." I don't know where he got it but it never ceases to make me laugh and he will never not be able to say it.)

The hardest part about going back for visits, and why it hurts so much when I leave, is because I am never there long enough to feel like I belong again. I'm always just passing through like any other visitor, which I'm not. But this time, I felt like I recaptured some of the magic I've been missing, and that I hope will sustain me for at least a little while.

Me and the Old Well

So we shopped, we ate, we walked. And then Aunt Amee and Bear came, and we shopped and walked some more. We then made our way to the Dean Dome for not one, but two trips around the basketball museum. Some people have Graceland, some people have a big ball of twine*, we have this.

Amee, Bear, and Joey watching game footage

All the national championship trophies

Then it was game time! It was tight for the first few minutes, but Roy's boys emerged victorious over the University of Albany, of course. Our seats were great, lower level in the back of a corner. (I think they were very close to where I sat for the Duke game my senior year.) We ate a lot and cheered and just soaked in the Carolina love. I love everything about game days and it never gets old.

All the championship banners

Roy's boys

Then we bused it back to Franklin and then made our way back home. It was a long day and were beat, as you can tell, but it was worth it, as always.


*For the record, before I die, I want to drive across the country and stop at every giant ball of twine, telephone, and cowboy hat I see.