Happy Kwanzahannukahmas!

Happy Holidays from the Potters.

Just a note that this photo was taken in a room full of barking dogs. Bruce Lee is the bravest cat you will ever meet. If you haven't met him yet, dance card spaces are still available.

My husband, the musician

I remember the summer of 95 when I would have wanted to begin every sentence with the phrase, "my boyfriend's in a band" or any phrase encompassing the words "boyfriend" or "band". Those were also the days when I was starstruck, and contemplated life as a groupie as my fall back career.

Four years later, jaded and de-glittered, I left the Athens music scene with no forwarding address. Now the phrase, "my boy/girlfriend's in a band" made me inwardly cringe. IQ points suddenly began to plummet whenever a new acquaintance allowed the phrase to pass between their lips. I rode my pretensious pony, complete with a neon banner that flashed, "I hate musicians!" Giddy-up!

Jonathan met me around the height of my disdain for all disciples of the Athens music scene. It's amazing we ever made it past our first conversation. I surprised myself when I offered him my email address for his band's mailing list. I was even more amazed when I didn't immediately receive an email from Jonathan about his band's upcoming performance. The awe was totally sealed when Soundtrack Mind belted out a cover of Tori's "Cornflake Girl."

And why was it sealed, you ask?

That I had stumbled upon a rarity - a true musician. Jonathan loved(s) music. Screw the scene, the politics, the pretensions...Jonathan was about the music. He seemed to be untouched by the Flagpole-pretension of the music scene. Fame would be nice to unplug from his 8-5, but other than that, he didn't have time for the b.s. of panels and popularity contests.

Fast forward several years...

Much to Athens loss, Jonathan's no longer playing as much as use to...but to my selfish gain, my rock star's at home with me. I don't miss the loneliness I felt when I saw Jonathan twice a week during his juggle of a daytime job and band practices and performances. With that said, I can't repress my excitement as I notice him picking up his guitar more and more everyday. My face hurts from my smile as he sings song after song almost every evening. I'm proud to share that my husband's band will be performing next weekend. If you are among the privleged few invited, you can also be graced with a performance this Saturday. Wow, I didn't even cringe.

The boyfriend's left the building...

Overbooked October

I seem to remember October 2004 being insane -- mortgage, moving, and a Halloween party in DC.

This time it's wedding, wedding, and more wedding (although through the grace of karma, we have somehow graciously rsvped our way out of wedding #3 due to fatigue and lack of funds, and wedding #4 is overlapping with wedding #2).

In between weddings galore, we are attempting to squeeze in some home improvement. The mission - paint our living room/dining room. I think I saw doubt flash across Jonathan's face when I proposed that we should have the painting done by end of November.

For two introverts, our calendars are jam packed.

Oh, and for sanity's sake, we're camping at the end of the month.

Serenity (not the movie) now...

Rock, paper, scissors

I'm not sure if I subconsciously posted my engagement photo on Sept 27th because I knew that was the day before Jonathan proposed to me, or if it's one of those whacky coincidences. Probably a product of whack.

Here's a photo of me hours before Jonathan popped the question. Do I look like I suspect? He looks a bit suspicious.



I doubt I'll ever commit Sept 28th, 2002 to memory, but Sept 29th is forever etched into my memory. Sept 29th, 2002, my friend Greg Whitlock lost his battle with liver cancer. Greg had cancer, and I had a not yet diagnosed form of liver disease. He referred me to doctors, emphathized with my frustrations, and motivated me before each of my biopsies. Greg was my rock.

I remember returning to Athens in the evening, from a relaxing and life-changing time in Beaufort, SC. Before I left town, Greg was doing well. He had left the hospital, and things were looking up. According to an email from his best friend Glenn, Greg was at home, not doing well. I then made the decision I've always regretted - I decided to visit Greg early in the morning the next day. He passed away hours after I made that decision. I was devestated.

If the heaven that Hollywood portrays really does exists, Greg has its residents signing up for Ultimate Frisbee, Softball, and LINUX hacking, cheering on each party.

Thanks to Sherry Neal for the inspiration. If you haven't visited her blog, at least read this beautiful piece: www.sherryneal.com/weblog/archives/000142.php

Goodbye Jeeves

I have to admit I haven't used Ask Jeeves in SEVERAL years, but it's still sad to see him go. I wonder if they'll mark the occasion with Jeeves and a suitcase image.

Ask Jeeves to drop butler mascot

SAN FRANCISCO, California (AP) -- The genteel butler that has been Ask Jeeves Inc.'s face for nearly a decade is getting ousted in a corporate takeover.

Jeeves, the slightly chubby and balding English butler, isn't the kind of image that e-commerce conglomerate InterActiveCorp wants representing the Ask Jeeves search engine, according to IAC Chairman Barry Diller. His New York-based company bought Ask Jeeves for $2.3 billion in July.

Speaking at a Goldman Sachs investor conference last week, Diller announced that his company intends to drop Jeeves as a mascot and shorten the search site's name to Ask or Ask.com.

"Not that I don't like that fat butler," Diller said, according to a transcript provided by Thomson Financial.

After Diller's speech, Oakland, California-based Ask Jeeves issued a statement that said that no decision has been reached on what the company's new name will be or when the change will occur.

Ask Jeeves spent more than $100 million building its brand around the cartoon butler during the dot-com boom. The marketing blitz paid for a 70-foot Jeeves balloon that floated over Macy's Thanksgiving Day and 15 million labels of the grinning mascot that were affixed to apples sold in 8,000 supermarkets.

But the butler (modeled after a character in P.G. Wodehouse novels) started to become a liability after Ask Jeeves upgraded its search technology to become more competitive with industry leaders Google Inc. and Yahoo Inc.

Company research indicated that consumers still associated the butler with the early versions of the Ask Jeeves search engine, which was designed to field inquiries in the form of direct questions -- a technology that delivered inconsistent results.

"This research shows use of the character as the prominent symbol of the brand may inhibit people from recognizing that our search engine has changed," the company said in a statement.

Last year, Ask Jeeves tried to spruce up the butler, introducing a trimmer and more sophisticated-looking Jeeves.

Diller hopes to turn the search engine into the mortar binding together a disparate collection of Web sites owned by IAC and Expedia Inc., which recently spun off into a separate company.

Taken from: www.cnn.com/2005/TECH/internet/09/27/ask.jeeves.ap/

Wowsers

Here is one of our engagement photos taken in Sept 2003. I vividly remember Jonathan purchasing that very shirt. I still consider it one of his "new shirts." Time flies when you're having fun.

P.S. I miss my long hair.

$10.30 vs $5.12

A quick peek into today's inner conflict:

Economically-Spoiled American Jinny vs Sustainable Growth-Support Local Business Jinny

Store: Daily Grocery Store Co-op
8 Organic Bananas: $1.94
2 Locally-grown Organic Broccoli Crowns: $2.40
1 2 quart container Organic Orange Juice: $5.29
Sales Tax: $.67
Total: $10.30

Store: Wal-Mart
8 Bananas: $.80
2 Broccoli Crowns: $1.00
1 2 quart container Orange Juice: $2.99
Sales Tax: $.33
Total: $5.12

Today, Sustainable Growth-Support Local Business Jinny won while Economically-Spoiled American Jinny berated her for spending 50% more on three grocery items.

I guess I could always move to San Francisco where even non-organic food is overpriced at the numerous non-corporate owned grocery stores.

Granted, I'd be living in a box, but at least I wouldn't be obsessing over paying 50% more on choosing to buy organic.

:-)

In no particular order

• Today I paid over $22 for a half a tank of gas. No, I don't drive a SUV. Yes, I am stunned. No, I'm not thrilled. Yes, I will be riding my bike more. No, I don't want to be reminded of how much more expensive gas is in Europe, but thank you anyway.


• Speaking of motor vehicles, I give Athens a big thumbs down as for being bike-friendly. I've ridden my bike to work and Dr. appointments a few times, and each time I've had someone almost hit my air-latent body by their metal-latent !@*%*^!$ (rear-ends). Then to add to my outrage, my friend Emily was actually hit by a car the other day, and knocked off her bike! She's bruised, but alive. If I knew who it was, I'd beat the bloody hell out of their car with my bike. It would be so worth it too. Do you think I would be able to eBay my bike for 10 million dollars as well? Yes, bike road rage does exist. Be VERY afraid.


• I have only one bottle of wine left from my December visit to Europe. I think it's time to go back...


• Although I have several (too embarrassed to admit the actual amount of wine I actually bought) bottles of wine from Napa Valley when Jonathan and I finally made it to San Fran.


• San Fran was grand. I will blog about that eventually, especially about the rabbit. Oh, and I thought Seattle had a huge Asian population...San Francisco was quick to correct me on that. It was definitely a Bugs Bunny dug too far moment whenever I bothered opening my eyes.


• Asia - is anyone as concerned about the bird flu as me? It is rapidly making its way around Asia. Asia is a HUGE chunk of land. I cannot imagine how quickly the virus would travel over North America. Just In case you were depending on the United States government for vaccination, think again. Tamiflu, the only known medication to battle the Avian Flu, is in much demand, and we don't have enough doses for even a quarter of our population.


• October is the month for weddings. Jonathan and I are attending several. We're actually going to miss one due to a conflict with another. Weddings are an odd thing. I find them to be the ultimate psychological study...venue, music, flowers, dress, suits, readings...who needs Myers-Briggs when you can sum of two people in about two hours, food and drinks included. I would be interested in seeing the guy at his wedding. I took this photo at Golden Gate Park.

Canada Welcomes You

Over a year ago, a quirky Canadian tourism website created a funny webpage that gained my attention long enough for me to copy and paste its url and email several of my friends. It actually had a bulleted list of the reasons why Americans should move to Canada, listing legal gay marriage and higher alcoholic content in beer to name a few. Merriment aside, I am tempted to suggest they list "George W. Bush is NOT President" as a pro. I have an actual mental list of reasons (I'm up to 38) why I think Bush is a miserable failure. I've attempted to populate this list with legitimate reasons, instead of hopping onto the stoner bandwagon of, "Bush sucks man!" I would of course share this list with you, but under the guise of the Patriot Act, I may be arrested, feathered, and licked by several feral cats if this list ever left my mind.

I digress...

One day I woke up and realized I was almost thirty. For those of you who are thirty, I see that finger you're pointing at me, and in some odd way, this isn't an insult, so please call back you minion of flying monkeys.

When I was in elementary school, volunteering my mom for cupcake duty, I remember her being thirtysomething, and all of my friend's moms were thirtysomething. Even my teachers were thirtysomething. My bus driver, the florist, the gas station attendant I fondly remember as "Chicken Man," and my many pseudo country "Aunts" and "Uncles" -- all of them were as thirtysomething as that 90's tv drama. Other than sharing similar ages and accents, all of these humans had one thing in common - they ALL had children, therefore, they ALL were ADULTS. In my simplistic attempt at algebra, thirtysomething*stationwagon(children)=adult (For those of you not familiar with a stationwagon, they were the equivalent to what soccer moms across the nation refer to as S-U-V) Despite the mortgage and ability to vote, drink, and rent a car without crying foul, some part of me subscribes to that original equation that adults have children, and thirtysomethings without kids are not adults.

Eek, did I really type that? And how does this apply to Bush being a total failure?

What I'm trying to say in the most verbose and insignificant way possible is that despite my 38 reasons for disliking Bush, I cannot begin to comprehend the multiplier I would have to apply if I were a parent. For the friends of mine who woke up almost thirtysomething and have had children, or are about to have children, I applaud you for being braver than me. I applaud the courage it takes to raise a child among a country that forsakes the beautiful priviledge of voting, and makes the uneducated decision to not vote. Ah, bet you thought I was about to slam those who voted for Bush. Nah, I'm willing to take a leap of faith that those who sport the "W" on their SUV took at least five minutes to learn Bush's stance (ban gay marriage via the Constitution!) before they cast their vote. I'm just disappointed in those who chose not to vote, for it's the only rational reason I could come up with on why we have such a Barney Rubble(Trouble) in the Oval Office.

If I were to wake up tomorrow and the stick was positive, I would faint from fright. Today, my political activism is contained within my John Hancock, inked onto petitions, overheard in an occasional coffee house conversation. I'm not that mother camped outside an infamous ranch in Texas, whose courage is fueled by a motivation I cannot understand. Instead, I am safe in my non-adulthood with my husband and my cat.

Comments Anyone?

I've turned on the option to allow anyone to comment to my blog. Let's see how long this lasts, and how quickly I fall prey to comment spam.

Here are my random comments on the world today:

• Is it possible that global warming has anything to do with the growing number of hurricanes? My friends in the radio world think the panic over global warming is crap. I haven't seen a polar icecap so I can't come up with an intelligent dissent. All I know is that the world is much more complex than little ole me, and even with 15 doctorates, I doubt I could explain why hurricanes have become nature's new black.


• Middle School - Last week on NPR, "experts" discussed the ramifications of sending children to middle school as opposed to an elementary school that included grades 6-7. Some experts proposed the in-between years of identity-searching caused psychological hardships that were amplified by advancing youngsters into a new school. Yes, middle school is a psychological nightmare - no doctorate needed for that observation. But to smash even more grades together in the same school as a means to protect children from psychological damage...you've gotta be kidding me! Sheltering kids isn't the answer. Actually, the upcoming generation's lack of work ethic accompanied with their personalized cell phones, scare me.

That's all for now.

Oops, I dropped my baton

I'm sure Sherry could care less now that I have finally published this, but a promise is a promise, and a quick sorry that I suck at this rapid response thing:

--
From: Sherry
Date: July 06, 2005
Subject: The Musical Baton: Redux

So here's The Musical Baton: Redux. Please leave a comment with your answer and twirl that baton over to five more peeps! (Or if you have a blog, post it there and leave the URL in the comments section. And if I didn't pass the baton over to you, leave your response anyhoo.
--

Five is a tiny number, and I'm sad to see some of my other favorite bands not make it in this list like Stereolab, Morphine, Johnny Cash, and Billie Holiday, but I'm sure we're limiting this to 5 so no one falls asleep at the computer.

Total Volume: 50 MB on my home computer that I asked Jonathan to make for me. I am a mp3 virgin *gasp*

Last CD Bought: The Arcade Fire's debut album Funeral (go buy this album NOW, it's amazing!)

Song Playing Right Now: Sleater-Kinney's "Burn Don't Freeze"

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

1. "Me In Honey" R.E.M.


2. "Liquid Diamonds" Tori Amos


3. "Fade Into You" Mazzy Starr


4. "Motor Away" Guided By Voices


5. "Summertime" Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald

Currently in Heavy Rotation:

1. "Dry the Rain" Beta Band


2. "Teenage FBI" Guided By Voices


3. "Take to the Sky" Tori Amos


4. "Open the Door" Magnapop


5. "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" The Arcade Fire


6. "Know Your Chicken" Cibo Matto

Top 5 Songs of the 80's:

1. "Every Breath You Take" Police


2. "The Greatest Love" Whitney Housten


3. "Amarillo By Morning" George Strait


4. "The One I Love" R.E.M.


5. "Love Song" The Cure

Top 5 Albums of All Time:

1. "What's Going On" Marvin Gaye


2. "The Velvet Underground and Nico" Velvet Underground


3. "Licensed to Ill" Beastie Boys


4. "Little Earthquakes" Tori Amos


5. "Life's Rich Pagent" R.E.M.

Music videos that you thought kicked ass at the time, but now they embarrass you:

1. "Rush, Rush" Paula Abdul (featuring Keanu Reeves)


2. "There's No Way" Alabama


3. "Unskinny Bop" Poison

5 People I'm Twirling the Baton to:

1. Martha, since she's my Elvis Costello buddy.


2. Zinnia, because she has even more of an eclectic music collection than me.


3. Andy, since I have no idea what kind of music he likes.


4. Meghan, because I'm interested to see how pregnancy affects her answers :-)


5. Patrick, because I'm still trying to figure out his music appreciation formula.

Blogging for the masses

You are not alone.

No, I'm not referring to aliens. I'm referring to the little known fact that you are one of many others who read my blog.

Surprised? I am. I knew at least three people read it regularly, and five on occasion, but in the past week, I've had eight people bring it up in conversation or email. That brings my total audience up to 16, which I would have never of guessed. I'm four people away from having my own t-shirt and coffee mug :-)

I thought this was a funny email exchange I had with a new friend I met at OSCON:

From: Russell
To: Jinny
Date: Aug 12, 2005

Don't worry about it. I took a different approach with my article. So,
I don't need it after all. Thanks anyway. I did use two of your
photographs for the article. Thanks for that. I appreciate it. By the
way, your maiden name is Po, right?

--

From: Jinny
To: Russell
Date: Aug 12, 2005

Po? That's hilarious. No, actually my maiden name is Dietrich...it's
a nice strong German last name. Po is a play on Potter, and an even
bigger play on Jennifer Lopez's J.Lo I find pop culture insane, so
it's my sarcastic tribute.

--

From: Russell
To: Jinny
Date: Aug 12, 2005

Uh, oh. Well, your name may appear as Jinny Po Potter in Linux Journal
soon. The editor should give me a chance to do one last edit before she
publishes it, though. If she does, I'll fix it.

--
To read Russell's article, visit Linux Journal: www.linuxjournal.com/article/8503

Thieves

Dear Sub-Human(s) Who Stole My Husband's Car Stereo System,

You suck.

Karma exists.

Sincerely,

Me

Things that make you go hmmm...

Scene: Athens, GA, 40 Watt, Popfest 2005

Last night was my first show out since the state-wide smoking ban. Elekibass took the stage and blew everyone away with their brilliant use of instruments and smart showsmanship.

Hmmm's in no particular order:

1. When did cellphones infiltrated our society in such a way that grunge hippies, complete with dredlocks and no shoes, begin to not only own one, but bring them to shows to obsessively check them and re-check them for missed phone calls?


2. When did it become ok to have entire conversations during a music performance? Has it also become acceptable to lay the smack down when a group of pearl-laden chicken posse starts to pass around their emo glasses for all in the group to try on and critique ("oh baby, you look so cute") in between catch up conversations ("what have you been up to...blah, blah the other day...blah blah...") smack in the middle of a rocking set by a pretty awesome band?


3. Do people with insane b.o. know they have insane b.o.?


4. When did skagging become the hip thing to do at an indie rock show?


5. When did extreme dancing of any type become hip at any indie rock show?

Albatross about my neck

Can you tell that Samuel Taylor Coleridge has had an influence on me? For those who do not understand the reference, shame on you, for you are missing out on one of the richest poems ever written.

Back to my albatross...

Hello, my name is Jinny, and I'm an introvert. In fact, I'm convinced if you were to pick up an actual paper copy of a dictionary (do they still make those?) my photo would be the supplemental image just so you could easily identify what an introvert looked like if you were to run into one. I don't bite, spit, or even pick my toenails, but I'm an introvert nonetheless. I am shy around new people, prone to being too content just listening to everyone else, and very motivated by the promise of a few minutes by myself. Does this sound familiar or just weird?

I'm in Portland, Oregon, a place I love and aspire to one day call my home. I'm attending The 7th Annual O'Reilly Open Source Convention. Imagine the most brilliant IT professionals all crammed into one building with gallons of Starbucks coffee and brightly colored blow up furniture, and you pretty much have OSCON. One could theorize that I should have no problem socializing with my fellow kind. Perhaps that would be the case if I actually felt that I belonged...I can't help feeling like a 14 year old who just so happened to have hacked their way into the FBI database using a script kitty they found of scriptkittiesfordummies.com.

Somewhere between my perceived near death experience on the Steel Bridge, and three conversations with CMS vendors on how CMS products are great in theory, but failed during proof of concept, I somehow managed to extract my albatross from my neck. One of the developers actually remembered one of my slightly scathing reviews of their product (eek, guilt, but they did admit I had excellent points). Was this confidence or my realization that I had more than the text book "How to shmooze using run of the mill small talk" at my fingertips? Perhaps it was both, and soon I found myself engaging into numerous conversations with ease. It would be quite amazing if my albatross decided to avoid my neck for the duration of this month. I have a list of social engagements that my new found extroversion could come in handy.

Completely changing the subject from me to others, I cannot begin to describe how refreshing it is to be among such a plethora of creative energy. Hands down, OSCON is about the exchange of knowledge and networking with the peers that until now, existed as text or code on computer screens or paper. I must dissent, and beam with unadultered enthusiasm and awe that I am surrounded by the parents of great children...children who bolster the weight of great tasks such as organizing and recalling critical data for the world. And of course, the writers... Once I was a writer, and with that memory I still feel the pull towards those beings who are able to delve into an experience and share it in a way that changes someone else's perception of their own experience. Or in the great words of one of the many computer geeks I've spoken with, "OSCON rocks man!"

I have two more days before this immersion is complete.

Jinny out...

Deep fried twinkie

It was my freshman year, and the two years of high school AP English hell had paid off -- I had exempted my freshman English 101 and 102 classes, and I was able to pick any upper level English class of my choice. I fail to remember the bs name UGA assigned it, but it was multicultural English literature, and I was all about it. Finally I was able to delve into true muticulturalism, which at my high school, was defined by African-American writers only (it seems that African Americans are the only non-white people who could write according to my high school English department). I was elated to see names such as Amy Tan, Sun Tzu, and Julia Alvarez.

Two minutes into my first class, I began to realize my classmates were as multicultural as the syllabus -- 12 out of 14 were NOT Caucasian. I came from a black and white town, and I was accustomed to being the only in between shade, so it was a bit surreal to be in the middle of such a concentrated amount of Asians. We'd read short stories, poems, and more importantly, entire novels by blank-Americans (fill in the blank with Latino, Asian, or African). Our thoughtful conversations about what it was like not being white in white America were both disturbing, yet intoxicating...until she chimed in...

How do I began to describe my freshman archnemisis? Like me, she was Korean, with long dark brown hair. That's where the similarities ended. Unlike me, she was born in Georgia, attended a prep high school, and her Korean parents owned a gas station. She also had a flat chest and stick-straight hair. My born in Seoul, Korea, adopted non-flat chested, curly-haired, public-schooled, housed by a second generation Italian and German adoptive parents self was not prepared for my venomous archnemisis's tongue lashing.

"..and do you know what I hate the most, when people have the nerve to ask me if I'm Chinese! That just pisses me off. How dare they?!" she began ranting during our discussion over cultural misperceptions.

I sat there, disturbed as always, at how loud and angry my archnemisis always sounded.

"And I always say, 'Do I look Chinese? How dare you? I'm Korean dammit! And do you know what they have the nerve to say? 'Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you' Like saying they're sorry can actually make up for such an insult?" she yammered.

I thought to myself, "wow, I didn't know I should be offended when people assume I'm Chinese." And as if my archnemisis could read my mind, she twisted her cobra like head towards me, and spat out, "What do you think Jinny? Do people ever ask you if you're Chinese?"

"Yes."

"And does that offend you?"

"No..." and before I could even finish my sentence she leapt from her seat to stand up in front of me.

"How can that not piss you off?!?" she yowled, her arms as animated as her mouth. "I mean, how dare they. It's like they think we're all the same or something. It's so offensive. It's total disrespect!"

Her face was actually red from anger. I felt the blood rushing up to my cheeks. I was mortified.

"I guess it's because I don't think that people are trying to be disrespectful. Sometimes I can't even tell the difference between..." I attempted to explain.

"Don't even say it! Don't even say it!" she yelped out, horrified I would even admit to not being able to differentiate between Chinese and Koreans.

The professor finally came to my rescue, asking my archnemisis to please take her seat. She rolled her eyes, breezed past me, and took her seat with her fellow Korean friends. One of the Caucasian men raised his hand wanting to dissect the word "naturalization," which to my relief, the professor graciously accepted as our new topic. Then I heard the almost indiscernible whisper in the back of the room.

"Twinkie." I heard her knowingly giggle to her friends.

Class was almost over, and in my ignorance, I had no idea that the twinkie they spoke of was indeed their opinion of me. I recounted the incident over lunch with one of my Caucasian friends, and to her horror, she revealed its meaning to me.

"You know, white on the inside, yellow on the outside. Don't tell me you've never heard that before." she exclaimed, her eyes wide in all their Caucasian discomfort.

I had been teased for being Asian all of my life...I can't even count the number of times I've heard slant-eyed, chink, and gook. But this was the first time I had ever been teased for not being Asian enough. It didn't stop with my archnemisis. I was actually corrected throughout my college years by non-Asians.

"Rugs and vases are oriental, not people," one of my dates pointed out when I sarcastically referred to myself as an oriental scholar.

So here I am, still somewhat wrestling with not being Korean enough at age 28. In a genuine attempt at exploring my ethnic cuisine, I talked Jonathan into going to "The Mirror of Korea" restaurant with me after my latest doctor's appointment. My last brush with Korean food was a disaster (basement kitchen in the dorm, enough said) so I diligently read over the reviews of the restaurant and googled the recipes of the dishes mentioned to make sure it didn't contain anything that would make me gag at first sight. I felt particularly confident since I had frequented the Righteous Room bar with my good friend Rob next to Mirror of Korea, which in my mind, meant good dining karma. When we arrived at noon, there were people there, which is always a good sign. I took out my citysearch printout of the dishes that would pave the path to my love of Korean cuisine.

"I'll just let you order," Jonathan conceded, recognizing the menu was far too intimidating for the unprepared.

We ordered the bi bim bop and bul go gi. Fresh kimchee was quickly brought to the table with a steaming pot of green tea. After I choked down my fifth cold green bean, I started to lose hope. The red pepper covered seaweed was vile. It was akin to a vinegar soaked locker room sock. The carrots were even more nauseating, and the bean sprouts almost drove me to the edge. I quickly gulped down more green tea, hoping that my bul go gi, aka, Korean BBQ, would stamp out the sick flavors my tongue had absorbed.

Our food arrived, the bi bim bop in a cute black pot, and my bul go gi neatly cut up into bite sized strips with a side of rice on a beautiful white dish. I took two bites of my bul go gi, and felt ill. The consistency of the meat was just wrong. I felt like a vegetarian that woke up suddenly in a carnivore's body in complete horror. wtf was in my mouth, and did I actually willingly put it there? I quickly smashed some rice into my mouth. I chewed, silently praying I wouldn't throw up.

"I have an egg in mine," Jonathan stated, putting on his good sport face. He dug into his pot of veggies, occasionally pointing out a vegetable he recognized.

"I can't eat this," I conceded apologetically. To my chagrin, Jonathan actually liked Korean food more than me.

Fast forward to now...

"Are you Chinese?" asked my acupuncturist during my first appointment.

"No, I'm Korean."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." he quickly apologized.

"Don't be, I'm not," I laughed.

"Oh wow, sometimes people getting really offended when, well, you know. Thanks for not getting mad."

I smiled, nodding knowingly.

Courteous Mass Kicked My Bass

It started out innocently enough...a casual email from my friend Patrick, "attached are the details of the Courteous Mass bike ride. Emily is also planning on going - it's a really easy bike ride, so if it sounds interesting, maybe you and Jonathan could plan on meeting us there."

Little did I know it would be the bike ride now known as the "Courteous Mass that Kicked My Bass."

My plan was to join in on the first mini leg of the 5-6 mile route, that would conveniently take me over to Prince, left onto Milledge, and allow me to turn right onto Hill towards the flat easy streets of my house. With my printed out map cut into a small bite-sized morsel, I was ready to bike a whole mile.



"Do you need a map?" asked one of the BikeAthens volunteers.

"No thanks, I have one," I replied.

"Do you know the route has changed? We're going in reverse."

WTF?!? That meant my plan for early departure was canned. Did I dare attempt the entire ride? Since the route was reversed, there was no mini-leg I could choose that would allow me to turn around and find myself home any quicker than the proposed route. Suddenly the grim warnings of my orthopedic doctor were booming, lecturing me on how I should stay in bed 24/7 in a drug-induced stupor or else I'd have my back fused.

"You wouldn't even make it through a beginner's pilates class," I remembered my EX-physical therapist. That memory pissed me off enough to try the entire route.

We peddled our way through downtown, and zipped our way through campus, under the bridge, around the Ramsey Center, onto College Station, then right onto Riverbend.

Then it began -- the realization I might not make it back home without divine intervention. Riverbend Road may not look hilly from the car, but according to my legs and back, it might as well been a mountain. Half way through the hill, I decided I would walk the rest of the hill. Very soon the mass of riders passed us and it was just me and a very concerned Jonathan. We made our way to Milledge and finally joined the rest of the group. Luckily, the rest of the route was flat and pretty uneventful. By the time we made it to Hill, Jonathan and I left the group to make our way home. I laid under the fan with a heating pad under my back for about 30 minutes, marveling over the fact I made it the entire 5-6 mile route. I contemplated taking a pain pill, but opted for the promise of a cold beer.

Update: Patrick thinks the route was actually 8 miles instead of 5-6 miles.

Continuing Education

I've been entertaining the idea of going back to school. Not so much for a degree, rather for the devoted study of one thing and classroom discussion. I'm torn between exercise science (my possible fellow classmates scare me) and religion (again, my possible fellow classmates scare me).

It amazes me what someone can earn a degree in UFO Investigation...

www.flamelcollege.org/programs.htm

Or you can always attend Whore College:

www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_1385068.html?menu=news.quirkies.sexlife

Modern Day Miracle

I find myself contemplating my belief system on a daily basis. Am I Christian, or am I an agnostic trying to cover all of my bases just in case?

Without question, I do believe that good and evil exist, rather than that good and evil are merely perceptions held by different people. I also believe I don't have the capacity to understand the bigger picture, and if there is a God, my human mind couldn't begin to wrap itself around the complexities of His existence. In an attempt to not drive myself batty, on most days I allow my gut-feeling to prevail, and believe there is a God and embrace the essence of Christianity, tring really hard to ignore George W. Bush and the King James preachers of the bible frustrate me. This is what faith is, right? -- believing despite your rational brain screaming, "seriously?!?"

Which now brings me to miracles. I propose that the following article illustrates a modern day miracle. I googled the word, and I'm going with Princeton's defition:

miracle: any amazing or wonderful occurrence

That's enough peeking into my mental panties...on to the article!

Police: Lions free kidnapped girl

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia (AP) -- Police say three lions rescued a 12-year-old girl kidnapped by men who wanted to force her into marriage, chasing off her abductors and guarding her until police and relatives tracked her down in a remote corner of Ethiopia.

The men had held the girl for seven days, repeatedly beating her, before the lions chased them away and guarded her for half a day before her family and police found her, Sgt. Wondimu Wedajo said Tuesday by telephone from the provincial capital of Bita Genet, some 560 kilometers (348 miles) west of the capital, Addis Ababa.

"They stood guard until we found her and then they just left her like a gift and went back into the forest," Wondimu said, adding he did not know whether the lions were male or female.

News of the June 9 rescue was slow to filter out from Kefa Zone in southwestern Ethiopia.

"If the lions had not come to her rescue then it could have been much worse. Often these young girls are raped and severely beaten to force them to accept the marriage," he said.

"Everyone in thinks this is some kind of miracle, because normally the lions would attack people," Wondimu said.

Stuart Williams, a wildlife expert with the rural development ministry, said that it was likely that the young girl was saved because she was crying from the trauma of her attack.

"A young girl whimpering could be mistaken for the mewing sound from a lion cub, which in turn could explain why they (the lions) didn't eat her," Williams said. "Otherwise they probably would have done."

The girl, the youngest of four brothers and sisters, was "shocked and terrified" and had to be treated for the cuts from her beatings, Wondimu said.

He said that police had caught four of the men, but were still looking for three others.

In Ethiopia, kidnapping has long been part of the marriage custom, a tradition of sorrow and violence whose origins are murky.

The United Nations estimates that more than 70 percent of marriages in Ethiopia are by abduction, practiced in rural areas where the majority of the country's 71 million people live.

Ethiopia's lions, famous for their large black manes, are the country's national symbol and adorn statues and the local currency. Former emperor Haile Selassie kept a pride in the royal palace in Addis Ababa.

Despite their integral place in Ethiopia culture, their numbers have been falling, according to experts, as farmers encroach on bush land.

Hunters also kill the animals for their skins, which can fetch $1,000, despite a recent crackdown against illegal animal trading across the country. Williams said that at most only 1,000 Ethiopian lions remain in the wild.

The Alsace Chronicles

Wow, I'm just a blogging maniac. It's just about the only thing I can trust myself to do while I'm on 500 mg of loratab and 20 mg of cyclobenzaprine.

How you doin?

Ok, so this really goes under the Germany Chronicles, but I'm not willing to figure out which chapter I am on that, so bah.

To sum up and transport you...it's December 2004, Jonathan and I are in Germany visiting Sherry and Christian. Are you with me?

First off, we all loaded up into Christian's Audi with broken headlight (remember this, because it will be relevant later on) and took the auto-BAHN through the Black Forest, and Baden Baden where people sit nekkid in hot springs (or something to that effect) and even made a pit stop at the barb wired remains of the Maginot Line before we found our way into the beautiful Alsace area. I'm a WWII buff, so the Maginot Line was a biggie for me to even be near, much less gawk at up close and personal.

So we were finally in France. It wasn't an overwhelming difference. Real shutters, brick shingles, wide-eyed and amazed Jinny. Sherry explained that the roses on the "Welcome to *insert French town name*" signs represented how aesthetically pleasing the town was by some French group that has the authority to judge that kind of thing. Some were 2 rose towns, while others were 3 or 4. Since I was in France, therefore impressed by their real wooden functional shutters and non-asphalt shingles, they were all 4 rose towns to me. Then came the almost climatic part -- the vineyards. We drove past an insane amount of vineyards, weaving their way up and down the foggy hills. I was in a Monet watercolor...bliss!

So we arrived, and I'm chagrined to report that I cannot remember which town we actually setup basecamp, so let's just leave it at we were in the Alsace.

SO I started this post on June 3rd and now it's the 14th...let's publish this pup and I'll continue later.

Roll coming attractions!

Stay tuned...there's a rude Frenchman and an odd police officer on the next installment of THE ALSACE CHRONICLES!

dog-cat

Yes, it's true. Bruce walks on a leash, and it was totally intentional.

Somewhere during his leash training, Bruce wised up that dogs walk on leashes, therefore, he must be a dog. I'm not quite sure how he came across this conclusion -- too many late night infomercials, talking to the neighborhood pets? Anyway, Bruce is 100% convinced that's he is a dog, and with the exception of using his litterbox, here is a list of his other "dog-like" characteristics.

• Understands and obeys the command "come." Even if you are on the opposite side of the house, he will come and...


• Understands and obeys the command "sit." Once he comes, you have to point to where you want him to sit or else he thinks you're crazy.


• Understands and obeys the command "back up." This is especially useful when he's near the wide open door leading out to our heavy traffic street.


• LOVES to play fetch. When we throw his toy, he runs after it and brings it back to us like a hyperactive golden retriever. Bruce never gets tired of fetch.


• Follows us around the house. He has to be nearby, and wherever we sit, stand, or lay, he must lay on the floor near us. He sometimes likes to lay near our lap, but has yet become a lap cat. Bruce has yet to realize that he's suppose to ignore us and act superior.


• He barks. No, just kidding, but he hasn't hissed EVER. I've never owned a cat that hasn't hissed.

Joe Nathan and Christian Rock!

Joe Nathan and Christian Rock!
Originally uploaded by sherryneal.

20 glasses of wheat beer

2 awesome friends

3 hours of American rock.

I miss Germany.

Redundant

Main Entry: stun
Inflected Form(s): stunned; stun·ning
Definition: to overcome especially with paralyzing astonishment or disbelief

Main Entry: surprise
Inflected Form(s): sur·prised; sur·pris·ing
Definition: to cause astonishment or surprise

From last week's Terry College FYI:

SECOND QUARTER STAFF AWARDS PRESENTED: Jinny Potter and J.K. McMullan were the recipients of the Terry College's Outstanding Staff Awards for the second quarter of 2005. Dean George Benson presented each with a plaque and a check for $500 at a reception held in their honor Tuesday, April 26, in Brooks Hall.

Potter, a web developer with the Office of Information Technology, received the Terry Achievement Award. She came to work at UGA in 1997 and has worked for Terry since 2001. On receiving the award, Potter said she was "very, very stunned and still very surprised" and thanked her colleagues in OIT for enabling her to do her job. McMullan, an academic advisor in the Undergraduate Programs Office, received the Terry Community Building Award. One nominating letter commented on McMullan's "tremendous breadth of knowledge" about the admissions process and the high regard given by her peers. McMullan started working for the Terry College's Dean's Office in 1987 for former Dean Al Niemi.

*sigh*

On the bright side, at least I didn't say, "uhhhh...I'm very, uhhh, very, ummm, stunned, and, um, uhhh still very um, um surprised."

Lumbar Spondylolisthesis

According to my orthopedic doctor, I have lumbar spondylolisthesis. After seven months of almost unbearable hip pain, I'm not sure what I was expecting the doctor to say to me. Perhaps something along the lines of, "just a muscle spasm you weak baby, buck up and go get a massage!" Instead, he informed me my lifelong battle with lower back pain was the culprit of my mysterious hip pain, and my lower back pain was actually not just weak back muscles, rather Lumbar Spondylolisthesis, which essentially means that one of my lower vertebra is slipping over another vertebra causing pressure on the nerve.

Ok, so I'm thankful I don't have arthritis, or missing cartiledge, but I can't help being slightly down that it seems my body has a slight "Made in China by sweatshop babies" quality to it. Ironically, Lumbar Spondylolisthesis is quite popular among Asians.

The really good news is that my doctor isn't surgery happy. In fact, he's amazed at how well I've managed my pain (go yoga!) so we're going to try physical therapy. Words like invasive, removal, and fusion are still ringing in my ears when he spoke to me briefly about my surgery options. Oh, and the recovery time is a speedy 6-9 months.

For more information, and images of x-rays that look exactly like mine, visit:

http://www.drdillin.com/education/basics_lspondy.htm

Mopy out

New favorite racial remark

"Look out, it's plaid and shanghai!"

Comment made to Jonathan and me last weekend as we attempted to walk around a herd of frat boys.

Jonathan was wearing plaid. I guess I had that Chinese city look about me.

An incident with the chicken

Hmm, "an incident with the chicken" sounds like a book title. I'll have to keep it in mind when I write my life's work. On to the blog!

Last weekend I threw Jonathan a birthday party. Knowing that all invitees were bonified meat eaters, I bought 20 lbs of animal flesh (for grilling, not ritualistic sacrifice).

Allow me to digress. A few years ago, a friend of mine gradually became a vegetarian. Dinner by dinner, she began not eating beef, shrimp, pork, and then finally chicken. I didn't find out about the chicken until after I cooked a meal that starred the poultry beast. I guess I should have asked before inviting her for dinner, but dropping certain foods from ones diet isn't a point of discussion that comes up regularly when you live two hours away from each other.

So I had to ask why, had she decided to become a bonified vegetarian because of her love of animals?

Her response, "I was cutting chicken the other day, and I had an incident with the chicken."

"An incident...did it start walking again? Were there extra parts? wtf is an incident?" I asked.

She gave me one of those looks that screamed "back off". "Let's just leave it at it being an incident with the chicken."

So I left it.

Fast forward to last Friday, me in my kitchen with 20 lbs of meat before me. After cutting about 5 lbs of meat, I started feeling lightheaded. 5 lbs of meat later, my stomach began churning. All I could think about was the fleshy texture under my fingers, and the smell of raw meat filling my nostils. 5 lbs of chicken later, I had to shoo my cat away because I felt like I was going to hurl at any moment. The final 5 lbs of chicken, I knew it had happened -- I had just experienced an incident with the chicken.

I didn't eat much at the party, and I've been eating more veggies to supplement my lack of meat. I haven't sworn meat off completely, but I am certainly not forgetting my incident with the chicken anytime soon.

P.S. My blogger spell check doesn't know the word blog. How odd.

Dust

I'll go ahead and preface this posting with the following disclaimer, "yes I know I'm a freak."

I have completed the tedious task of dusting off my desk and all of its contents. Somehow anything I own or inhabit, regardless of age, accumulates about 1/8 inch of dust every month to the point when I shuffle papers around, mini-dust bunnies begin an odd rendition of "Swan Lake." I find myself looking at other people's desks, mentally comparing the dust amounts. I can't decide if I'm disturbed by how aware I am of their dust, or the fact that many people's desks seem to lack dust. I was in a friend's office the other day, and to my horror, their nick nacks were totally dust free. My compulsion drove me to run my fingers across quickly to confirm. My finger could not turn up even the tinest bit of lint. What gives?!?! Am I just a dust magnet? Is it my body wash? Have others struck a deal with the devil? If I took up bubblegirl life, would I mystify scientists by being the very first bubbleperson with dust in her bubble?

I wonder...

Remembering Greg

Today Greg Whitlock would have turned 35 today. I am sad, reflecting on my own selfishness that he's no longer with us. I find if still surreal that I just placed an order for a "memorial cake" for the dedication of the UGA Intramural Fields batting cages that were constructed in his honor.

Greg was one of the most sincerely good hearted individuals I've ever known. It was a privilege to know him.

The Germany Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Welcome Wagon, Part 2

Colder than Athens? -- yeah, whatever! After about 20 motor butt Jinny steps, I was soon regretting all the new thermal underwear I had layered on my body. My perspiration was soon forgotten when I finally turned around to glance back at the enormous train station we just exited. It was my favorite kind of architecture -- old and well built. No plastic, no gaudy electronic signs, and no vinyl! I quickly started furiously snapping photos like a Sports Illustrated photographer at a basketball game (with the exception of no balls and nothing remotely animated).

As we slowly made our way into the center of the city, I continued to snap more and more photos -- "oh strange pigeon in cigarette butts", "wow, lifesize toy police car", "lookee, weird tree!" Everything, including the air, was suddenly camera-worthy. I eventually reeled myself in, remembering that I hate tourists, and worse yet, I hate looking like a tourist when I had spent hundreds of dollars on black dressy clothing to "blend" in. With map hidden in pocket, we began our search for *really* old structures. We soon found ourselves in front of a massive cathedral, complete with baby heads and grapes made out of stone. Snap, snap, snap, I made sure to capture every interesting inch of the cathedral. Snap, snap, snap, "wow, that door is HUGE and look at the age of that wood!" Snap, snap, snap, "look, more baby heads!" Finally tired of snapping photos of the cathedral, I convinced Jonathan to stand in front of the cathedral (he hates looking like a tourist too) so I would have proof that we actually flew to Germany instead of taking a week off work to watch the Jerry Springer marathon. Then *he* happened...our true German welcome wagon. Let's call him Hans for the fun of it. Our tourist ways quickly tipped Hans off immediately. He saw through our black clothing and quickly offered us every tourist's wet dream, "Picture? Together? I take!"

Hans overly broad smile revealed several missing teeth, reminiscient of a Waffle House waitress. His attire of flannel and ripped blue jeans added to his style of "hi, I'm your first German vagrant!"

"No thank you, we're fine."

"Yeah, picture!" He moved in closer.

I silently thought, "Is this guy about to steal my camera? Crap, it's really work's camera. I'm sure the state of Georgia will understand how I willingly handed over my camera to a homeless German man."

"No really, thank you but no thanks." I answered.

Jonathan had gone into Wing Chun mode and had verbally retreated, gathering his kung fu forces in case Hans attacked.

This verbal banter continued for several more minutes, until finally my fear dissipated, with slight irritation replacing it.

I had more really old stuff to see and this man was in my way.

"Yeah, fine, ok, here." Jonathan and I stood just out of reach of the camera in case he ran.

Snap.

With a big non-tooth grin, Hans proudly handed our camera back to us, nodding with glee.

"Thank you," Jonathan and I said, relieved our encounter was almost over.

Hans nodded again, and then proceeded to walk past us towards the corner of the cathedral we were a few yards from. Without warning, Hans unzipped his pants and revealed little Hans to the elements.

"Whoa!" Jonathan and I quickly rounded the corner, a little shocked that Hans was peeing on the cathedral that was the center of my photo essay. Unwillingly to let Hans dissuade me, I slowly began to continue snapping more photos of the other side of the cathedral. Then I heard it...

"Picture? Together? I take!"

*groan*

"No, really, we're fine. No picture!" I quickly said, shaking my head hoping that it was somehow a universal sign for "hell no."

Hans quickly removed the camera from my hands, and motioned for us to once again stand in front of the cathedral. My germ phobia flared, as my stomach realized that the other side of the cathedral didn't have a sink and antibacterial soap facilities and the man who just seconds ago touched his...you know what I mean.

Snap.

Hans handed me back my camera, beaming with pride.

"Thanks," I said, trying hard not to obsess over the Hans germs I knew were rapidly reproducing on my camera.

Jonathan laughed. There would be no more pictures until I found disinfectant.

It's a boy!

Everyone, meet Bruce Lee Potter.

Yes, Jonathan and I finally took the plunge and we're now proud parents of a pouncing baby boy of 8 months. I can't help but gush about how he's all love and without an ounce of haughty hissy cat attitude. Plus, isn't he a beauty?

Jonathan had blonde hair too when he was a baby.

The Germany Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Welcome Wagon, Part 1

After a pleasant 8 hour flight filled with free wine, free movies, and free food, Jonathan and I found our sleep-deprived shells in the spacious Frankfurt airport. We somehow found our way onto a bus, that led us to our luggage, and then finally to the train station where we desperately searched for the extra large lockers Sherry promised we'd find. We found them...all very much in use by someone other than us, and after shlepping around way too much luggage, we made a solemn vow to never again bring more than two bags with us to a foreign country. We eventually found a locker and managed to stuff our luggage in, and then it was onto our next mission -- call Sherry. We assumed using the pay phone would be easy enough, but after inserting a few Euros into the slot, I found myself in the most stressful phone call I've ever made. Literally, for each 10 seconds that passed by, the pay phone indicator kept ticking away my money in increments of 10 cents. It was akin to seeing a large glass of water tipping over and that urge you feel to grab a paper towel and wipe it up. I managed to get the pertinent information I needed from Sherry just before my time ran out and the pay phone cut me off without an audio warning.

My irritation continued as we found ourselves in the Frankfurt Haupthbahnhof. The token machines were somewhat in English, but not really, which was more irritating if they were entirely in German. The lack of sleep exacerbated the situation, and had me feeling like an extra fiery Kung Pao Asian. After finally finding a human employed by the train station, we managed to buy tickets and board the train that would carry us to Frankfurt Au Main. My alienation soon began to dissipate once we were on the train, but I still felt like an interloper ready to be kindly asked to leave.

New Year's Resolutions

I've added yet another new year's resolution to my list, although I wonder if I can technically call it a list when there are only two items on it...but I digress.

New Year's Resolution #2: Instead of sitting in a chair at work, sit on a balance ball.

OK, so if you're not laughing yet, you are obviously suffering for the inability to imagine this scenario. Picture a 5'2" Asian, tail wobbling around on a big purple balance ball, barely within eyeline of her computer, typing away.

Are you laughing now?

So in case you're wondering, no, I have no been recruited into a new aged hippie cult, nor have the Georgia budget cuts caused a lack of office chairs. I have just been realizing more and more that my career has me sitting on my tail way too much. Near the end of the day my lower back is aching, and this comes from someone who takes yoga twice a week and sees the chiropractor once a week. So in an attempt to challenge my weak abs and force myself to hold correct posture throughout the day, I've brought my purple balance ball to work. My abs ache, but my lower back doesn't, so I'd say I may be on to something. I don't plan on bringing my ball to meetings, nor keep my door wide open for all to see. I am not attempting to become the circus freak show at UGA. We'll see how long I can maintain a professional environment with my big purple ball. Perhaps dressing up in a black suit everyday would help balance it out.

Speaking of resolutions, I'm curious how many of you have made and actually kept your resolutions? I never make resolutions on January 1st, instead, it's within the first 2-3 months, a continual working draft. I'm happy to report that I've kept four resolutions:

1. Quit smoking -- after sustaining the habit for five years, 1-2 packs a day, I have hesitantly moved myself from the category of smoker to recovering smoker. I doubt I'll ever be a non-smoker (unless your my insurance company) since I miss it terribly. I'm in that romantic phase of fondly remembering smoking in my first NYC bar in Manhatten, and smoking a clove with some chickory coffee and beignets in New Orleans. I have to remind myself on a monthly basis that smoking is a horrible habit that took me a long time to shake. Resolution duration: 6 years

2. Take the stairs -- Unless I'm in an unfamiliar place, I always take the stairs. Even if it's hot, or I'm tired, or I'm lifting something heavy, I now take the stairs. Resolution duration: 3 years

3. Curb caffeine -- You may not believe me, but I was drinking about 12 cups of coffee a day, in addition to any tea or soda that contained caffeine. In my defense, my allergist had me on *ten* different medications. Add that to some other medical conditions, and my brain just wouldn't function without caffeine. I dumped my super large coffee cup (which held about 4 cups) and stopped visiting Starbuck's (their larges are about 4 cups as well). Over the years I've whiddled it down slowly, from 8 cups, to cold turkey, then back to 8 cups, then to 6 cups, to 4 cups. I'm now averaging 1-2 cups of caffeine (not just coffee), and sometimes splurge and have 3 cups if I'm on vacation and I need a boost at the end of the afternoon. Resolution duration: 2 years

4. Be friendlier to morning people -- I am not a morning person. I have a theory that the part of my brain that is patient and friendly, awakens appoximately 2 hours after the rest of me wakes up. I do not strive to be a morning person, but at least now I no longer plot their demise when they attempt a conversation with me. I no longer glare whenever someone enthusiastically questions me about my plans for the day. Ok, almost always. Resolution duration: 3 years

What resolutions have you kept?

The Northern States

The Northern States -- also known as anything north of Tennessee, since most of Virginia lacks the percentage of rednecks Georgia has.

I'm fresh from my NJ/NY trip. As if NJ/NY wanted to impress me, it snowed the morning after I arrived. I felt like I accidentally stepped into a Pepperidge Farm commercial, minus the Milano cookie smell. Then to further dazzle me, the weather was actually warmer than it was in Athens. I found myself stepping out with narry a jacket or gloves. I'm beginning to think that winter in the south being warmer than the north (or even Germany) is a big myth. I have yet to experience almost frozen toes, and numb fingers outside of Athens, Georgia, where to my chagrin, I have to wear thermal underwear under my polar fleece Santa-colored puffy pants that I know makes my husband's heart skip a beat. I mean, who doesn't love a lady that's layered in polar fleece? ;-)

Anyway, weather aside, my trip to the north was fabulous. I drank my first Cosmo at my first swank NYC restaurant, before my first Broadway show. I fed Central Park ducks (some that were overly hostile) a real NYC pretzel on my way to MoMa, to see the very famous and very fabulous Starry, Starry, Night. I already miss the smell of the snow-kissed pines, and the buzz of the city, but I must admit, there's no place like home. Especially if I move to Germany.

A New Yearish Resolution

The Scene: New Year's Eve, 40 Watt Club, and me and hundreds of townies...a run in with Ed, serving up a vanilla bean epiphany: I rarely pleasure read because my nose is buried in IT books.

The Realization: My brain is going to atrophy if I don't feed it something other than IT and nytimes.com. Once upon a time I read three books a month while going to school and holding down two part-time jobs.

The Resolution: Read at least six non-IT books this year.

The Details: I cannot count a book that I have already read. I must choose 1 of each from the following categories--

1. unread book on my shelf (probably from Jonathan's collection)
2. pop-culture hyped book (e.g. Harry Potter or the Da Vinci Code)
3. non-fiction
4. classic (e.g. A Tale of Two Cities)
5. how to or subject based book (e.g. how to garden or intro to psychology)
6. nytimes bestseller

Any suggestions on what should go on my list to read besides #1?