An Open Letter to The Writers of "The Office"

Dear Writers of "The Office":

Thank you for making Angela's favorite song "Little Drummer Boy." That has always been my most hated Christmas carol, but now that it's become a joke your show, when I hear it, I simply think of Dunder-Mifflin and all its hilarity instead of how much I hate the song.

Thank you for making my most hated Christmas song bearable.

Sincerely,
Erika

P.S. Nice job on the rest of the show too. It's top notch. One thing though: I'm kind of tired of the Jim and Pam drama, and actually all the drama, period. The show was, in my opinion, much stronger when it was just funny and not all soap opera-y. Bring back free pretzel day!

Pet Sounds

Once again, this week, we had to take Stella to the vet.

Like many small dogs, she has been afflicted with a luxating patella, which basically means that her kneecap slips out every once in awhile. Sometimes it slips back in on its own, and sometimes we have to move it back for her. She's been limping around, picking up her right hind leg, for the last several weeks* and though we put her on crate rest for the majority of that time, it didn't seem to help.

The doctor prescribed an anti-inflammatory, and we've started giving her supplements that should help strengthen her joints, so we're hoping we'll be able to avoid surgery. Stel is not overweight, so that should work in her favor as, obviously, excess weight creates stress on the joints.

Nonetheless, the last several weeks have been stressful on all of us. Poor Stella hasn't been allowed to run and play, and my husband and I have been wondering about the what ifs. Throughout her life with us, we have spent more time worrying about Stella than I care to say. When we first got her, she had a long, rough bout of kennel cough. Then when we tried to switch her from puppy food to adult food, it took a good six months before we found one that agreed with her sensitive Boston Terrier tummy, and about a week after we did, she caught a parasite. As soon as that cleared up, this happened.

I love her to pieces, but lately, I've been feeling sad that I can't simply enjoy having her around instead of spending every day wondering what's next.

Then this morning, one of my coworkers came in late, telling the story of how his daughter threw up in his car. I couldn't help but think of the time Stella threw up in my car. It was an unpleasant ride for sure, but, being a dog, she was in her Terrier Carrier. Thus, all vomit was easily contained and washed away in the laundry room sink. I'm pretty sure my coworker can't say the same for his daughter's incident today.

Lesson learned: Be grateful for the dog. It may be stressful to take care of her sometimes, but a kid has to be way worse.

*She's still too fast for me to catch her. But in my defense, she's still running on three legs to my two, and she's only 16 pounds, where I am considerably heavier.

The Soundtrack of My Life

Stolen from a Facebook friend who probably stole it from someone else....

I did take away some of the categories I thought were dumb or weird. But that was before I did the exercise, so it still counts.

1. Put your iPod on shuffle. (Or you can write whatever comes on the radio.)
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Home I do tend to hole up in the winter.

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
I Never Loved A Man (The Way That I Love You) I don't know if that answers the question, but at least it has to do with love. And let me just clarify that I am not a lesbian.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
The Scotsman If you know this song, you'll know that my life's purpose is apparently looking under kilts. Sweet.

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
I'm Walkin' Could be worse I guess.

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
She's Always A Woman To Me Thank God, because I'd be pretty upset if they thought I was a man.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Wide Open Spaces This was more true 5-10 years ago, but I guess it's sort of true now.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Hiphopapotamus vs. Rhymenoceros Hell yeah!

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Born in the U.S.A. This is funnier than you can imagine, because I am always telling my husband that he is American, not Italian.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
The Seer's Tower A bit poetic, and also reminiscent of my list of 30 things I wanted to do before I turned 30.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
She Came in Through The Bathroom Window I guess it could be worse. I get to be a Beatles song, and at least it's not "Piggies."

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
O Little Town of Bethlehem So not what I think.

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon Dear God.

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Bitch I left this question on even though I already got married. I did not dance at my wedding, but this would have been a great one if I had.

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
O Tannenbaum It's the instrumental Charlie Brown version. I guess I'm alright with that.

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
You Were Mine Um, yeah, not so much.

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Like A Virgin The secret is out! I have Madonna in my iTunes.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Atomic Some of them, yeah, probably.

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Lonely Teenager Been there, done that.

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
In the Flesh Hey, there are worse ways to go.

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Yesterday I guess that's all I can regret, right?

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Should I Stay or Should I Go Only when I try to play it on Rock Band.

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Chicago Poetic, no?

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Karma Chameleon I did marry a man whose colors are like my dreams. He is not, however, a man without conviction and a man who doesn't know.

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Adia I guess this makes sense when you consider that the last time I went to the dentist it was playing. The dentist is scary.

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Upon Those Stones This song is from Les Miserables. I guess I would change the French Revolution if I could, but something tells me other things might be on my list.

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
One Week Ah, yes, but which one?

An Open Letter To Barack Obama

Dear Mr. President-Elect,

I'm sure you're hearing from many people today who want to tell you congrats on the whole White House thing, so I'll make this note brief. But I wanted to talk to you about that puppy you promised your daughters last night.

I don't know if you and the missus have looked into it at all, but if you haven't decided on a breed yet, I want to cast my vote for the Boston Terrier. If you research the breed on the American Kennel Club's Web site, you'll find that BTs are described as "conveying an impression of determination, strength and activity." Which is exactly what you want to do as president, so I think getting a Boston would make a nice statement.

Plus they're really cute, and I think people would really like seeing a little BT chasing a ball on the White House lawn.

I know you're busy preparing to run the country and stuff, but if you have a second, please peruse my posts about my own Boston Terrier, Stella, and make sure you look at her pictures. You can't have her, of course, but if you get a BT and want to have Stella come over for play dates, I'm sure we could work something out.

Sincerely,
Erika

Stage Mother

It's true. My dog is adorable.

It is also true that since we don't have children, my husband and I have turned into Those People With The Dog. You know. The people who love their dogs just a little too much. The ones who announce that our dog earned her AKC Canine Good Citizen certification the way parents would announce that their kid made the honor roll. And yes, the ones who tell people that she has already chosen what she wants to be when she grows up (a model).

In our defense, look how cute she is! Way cuter than a lot of kids. And way better behaved (sometimes). And as of the other day, it turns out that she is well on her way to becoming a model, just like she wanted.

Awhile back, my husband, who happens to be a professional photographer, took a Christmas-themed photo of our girl and uploaded it to a stock photo Web site. The other day, he checked the site and found out that it had been purchased by someone for use!

Unfortunately, there's no way to find out who purchased the image. Still, it sure is exciting to know that my little girl's face will be out there for the world to see. I'm sure it won't be long till she has her own TV show.

Valerie Harper Will Not Hide In The Fruit Cellar

A coworker who recently returned from a trip to Ireland told me today about an awful B&B where she stayed while there. It was a long, sordid tale, but the gist is that the owners (a shirtless farmer and his butcher-apron-clad wife) were inattentive, the rooms were full of mosquitos (but no heat), the curtains in the bathroom were see-through and there was a machete underneath one of the bedroom windows.

I was relaying the story to my husband this evening, and when I got to the part about the machete, he said, "boy, it's like Jason Bateman lives there."

"Um...Jason Bateman?" I was sure he had to mean someone else, unless Bateman's performance in Teen Wolf Too was really that scary for him.

"Yeah, from Psycho."

Yeah, he'd been thinking of Norman Bates.

Here Comes Suzy Snowflake

I had to scrape frost off of my windshield this morning before leaving for work.

I am so not happy about this. It's a good thing I love Christmas so much, because I've had to get out my holiday music just to make myself feel better about the chilly temperatures. I figure maybe I can fool myself into thinking it's December if I listen to Bing Crosby for awhile. On the up side, though, maybe I'll get my shopping done early.

Flattery Will Get You

Last week when I went to my training session at the gym, Megan dropped a bomb on me.

She was leaving. She got a new job at a new gym and would be starting this week.

I was excited for her, especially when she told me about the significant boost in pay she'd be getting. She's fun, upbeat and a great motivator, so I know she'll do well at the new gig. But of course, I was sad for myself. I'd been working with her for two months, and under her tutelage, I have seen results.

As her last act as my trainer, Megan offered to schedule me a session with a different trainer for this week. I asked her to recommend someone who was fun and entertaining, and she gave me a guy named Jeremiah. I had my first session with him last night.

Jeremiah is a nice kid. (He's 20, and now that I'm 30, I figure it's alright to call someone who is 20 "kid"). He really wasn't that fun and entertaining at first though, and I kind of need someone who will chat with me; otherwise, I will realize I'm doing squats and suddenly want to leave.

So I asked him about his background, where he lives, what he enjoys. I found out that two months ago, he smashed into a fire hydrant while running down the street, and I saw the huge scar that pretty much encircles his entire right knee. But the jury was still out on whether or not I would like working with him.

Then he mentioned that he's going to be 21 in a few months, and I told him I just turned 30. He was genuinely surprised and told me I looked like mid-20s to him.

Have I mentioned that Jeremiah is awesome?

Lessons From the Angel Girl

Ever since I took a History of Nazi Germany class in college, I have been fascinated with stories of the Holocaust. While part of my interest is certainly the horror story factor (the same thing that draws me to books about serial killers), and some of it has to be biological (my dad will devour any book he can get his hands on about World War II) I think what keeps me drawn to this period over and over again are the happy (or, rather, bittersweet) endings for those affected by the Holocaust. The tales of triumph over evil, survival in the worst of conditions and forgiveness of unforgivable acts.

A few years ago, I interviewed a Holocaust survivor for the newspaper where I worked. Born in Poland in 1932, he spent his formative years in a ghetto and then a concentration camp. He eventually emigrated to the United States and spent years hiding from his past, bottling his feelings deep inside (and turning instead to The Bottle for solace). It was only when he began telling his story that he began to find peace.

While I was listening to him that day, all I could think was how amazing it was that this man was sitting in front of me. He was a living, breathing piece of history, and I was having a conversation with him. I had lunch with him a week or so later, and he asked about me -- where I grew up, my education, my goals -- and I couldn't help thinking that nothing I had to say could be all that interesting to this man who had known such incomprehensible suffering.

Talking to him made me feel very privileged, though not in a good way. I am ever grateful that this man's suffering is incomprehensible to me; his life is not one I want to understand from a first-hand perspective. But at the same time, sitting at lunch with him, I felt the age-old urge to clean my plate because people are starving elsewhere, an almost guilt-like feeling, because I grew up in such relative privilege.

But today, I read a Holocaust story that made me realize there are two sides to that coin.

He was a teenager living in a death camp; she was posing as a Christian and living in the village nearby. Every day, she would come to the camp's fence and throw an apple to him; he would catch it and run away before he was seen. He called her his "angel girl."

When he got word that he would be moving to another camp, he bade her farewell, and the two forgot about each other until, years later and an ocean away, they were set up on a blind date. They got to talking about their wartime experiences and realized they had met before. He proposed marriage to her that very night. The couple, now of Florida, has been married for 50 years.

It sounds like something out of a movie. But Holocaust experts who have studied the man's memoirs believe it to be true, and so do I, if for no other reason than that I want to. I'm willing to bet there are no adjectives strong enough to describe the horrors of what these two experienced back then, and so should their joy of finding each other and falling in love be likewise indescribable. And just like I could never fully understand the suffering, I don't think I could ever fully understand that kind of happiness.

I'll take what I have. But I am glad to know that those who suffer the most often have the greatest joys as well.

Pick A Little, Talk A Little

Yesterday, I was shopping at an establishment I don't really frequent, but visited because I had a coupon. I don't really like shopping there unless I can get something cheaper there than somewhere else. And the reason can be summed up in four little words.

"You finding everything alright?"

I spent about 10 minutes in the store, and I was asked this four times. I don't know if I looked particularly confused, or if the employees were particularly bored, or if they're just supposed to ask every customer they come across if they need help. But after the third time, I had the urge to stand up on a chair and yell, "I'm finding everything just fine! No need to ask me again!"

But it wasn't the over-helpfulness of the employees that turned me off yesterday. (And I grant you, I'd rather over-helpfulness than employees who are nowhere to be found when I actually do need help.) Nor was it the fact that the store's server went down, making it impossible for them to verify credit card transactions till they rebooted and forcing a long line of people to stand there for 10 minutes. These things happen; they're annoying, but they happen. No, what turned me off was the conduct of one particular employee during that wait.

This girl, talking to another girl behind the register, told the story of Wendy, who had requested the day off and not gotten it. She had called a couple of her work friends, including the storyteller, the day before to say she planned to call in sick. The girl told Wendy she'd better not; it was going to be really busy, and they needed her. Well, whaddayaknow, Wendy had a friend of her dad's call in for her, saying she was very ill, then had the audacity to text a friend at work and ask how things were going. (And obviously, with the server down and all, things were not going well.)

I know all workplaces have their gossip, and the story of Wendy is probably one repeated in every retail establishment across the country. But that doesn't mean the place to tell it is in front of a long line of customers.

What I don't think the girl realized is that telling that story made the whole store look bad. There was a sign in the window asking for holiday help, but if I'd been considering applying, I would have changed my mind right there. Who wants to work at a place where you know you could be talked about in front of customers? And who wants to work at a place where employees feel it is OK to call in sick when they are not sick, and brag about it to coworkers? Not to mention how bad the telling of the story looked to customers, who I think I can safely say were all wishing the girl would call her manager for help rebooting the system instead of talking to her neighbor. (And now that I've blogged the story, I have an urge to go back to that store on a day this week when Wendy is working and ask her if she's feeling better.)

The experience wasn't quite as bad as my Labor Day excursion to Hobby Lobby, but it still left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I can't appreciate either situation because I have never worked retail (unless you count six months in a grocery store that hardly ever got customers other than the moms of the part-time employees). And maybe I am expecting too much. But I do sort of hope that the next time I go shopping, I won't have any reason to remember the store employees.

Human Good Citizen

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I got to thinking about all the work we've put into having Stella certified as a Canine Good Citizen. We went through 30 weeks of obedience classes and hours of working at home, not to mention socializing her everywhere we could, taking her to doggie daycare and spending quite a bit of money in the process, all to help Stella learn good manners.

In addition to being proud of my dog, I was proud of myself and my husband for getting her to this point. When we first brought Stella home, we had no idea how to train her; we just kind of hoped that if we said "sit" enough times, she would. And many times during obedience class, I thought to myself, what if we ever have a child? Who is going to teach me obedience for kids?

I think of my downstairs neighbor, Mr. McCrochety, who complains constantly about my husband's and my noisy habits (such as walking up the stairs and doing laundry). He's so quick to point out what he sees as flaws in other people, so quick to complain about the smallest annoyance, yet he has never shown one bit of courtesy or kindness to my husband or me. I always greet him with a friendly "hello" when I see him, yet last week, I was walking out the door right behind him, and he let it slam in my face rather than holding it for me. If you ask me, he's someone who could use some obedience training.

And why don't we have good citizen training for people? Stella had to take a test; why shouldn't McCrochety and all the other people of the world? Why shouldn't we all have to prove that we are fit to be a part of society? And why shouldn't we take our children to classes where they learn good manners? I'm sure that going to regular school helps, but my high school psychology teacher always said that two-thirds of a person's personality was formed by the time he or she turns five. So wouldn't it help to start those good habits early? And wouldn't it help to have some way to measure how we're doing?

And so, here is my test for becoming a Human Good Citizen.

Accepting a friendly stranger. To successfully complete this item for Canine Good Citizen certification, a dog must sit or stand nicely by its owner. If the dog barks or growls, jumps up on the person or shies away from the person, the dog doesn't pass the test. I don't see any problem with the qualifications for a Human Good Citizen being pretty much the same. Any person who makes a rude remark or catcalls, or doesn't at least acknowledge that the other person is there, will be disqualified.

Appearance and grooming. The American Kennel Club says that Canine Good Citizens should be clean, groomed and generally well cared for. I don't think that's too much to ask of people.

Walking through a crowd. The person must walk nicely, taking care not to shove others out of the way, and always saying "excuse me" when having to get past someone.

Sitting on command and staying in place. For people, this would more commonly be known as "shut up and wait your turn." I think a good place to do this test would be the mall on Christmas Eve or a doctor's office during flu season.

Coming when called. For a dog, this means literally coming to you when you tell him to do so. For humans, I'd say it would mean making onesself available when needed. A child ignoring the parent who asks him to clear the table or a call center person who reads a response off a monitor without listening to the question would receive an immediate failure.

Reaction to distraction. For dogs, this means they have to sit or stand nicely in place and not freak out when someone drops a book or bounces a ball or drags a walker nearby where they're standing. For people, I think this should mean not answering one's cell phone while sitting down to dinner or in public places, diligently doing one's work without screwing off all day and turning off the TV when someone has something important to say.

Supervised separation. For dogs, this means being out of the sight of one's owner for three minutes without whining, barking or otherwise show agitation or nervousness. It shows that the dog can be left with a trusted person and still maintain good manners. For people, I think this test should show independence. It would have to be given at adulthood, of course, but I think a person should be left alone for three weeks and would have to demonstrate the ability to take care of onesself without relying on a parent or spouse. A person would have to cook his or her own meals, do his or her own laundry and generally take care of himself or herself without having someone standing by either giving orders or serving the person.

Canine Cum Laude

Last night, my little girl became a Canine Good Citizen!

For those not familiar, the Canine Good Citizen program is something created by the American Kennel Club to promote responsible dog ownership and obedience. To become certified, a dog must successfully complete a 10-item test.

It's almost hard to believe she was able to do it. Less than a year ago when we started puppy classes, little Stel was so afraid of other dogs that she would whine and hide behind my husband and me whenever they had playtime. Now, thanks to class and doggie daycare, my little girl is a social butterfly who can't wait to meet new people and puppy dog friends.

Stella still has some challenges to overcome. She still jumps up on people, and that's a really tough habit to break with a small dog; people tend to immediately bend over to pet her and reinforce the bad behavior. And she does get a bit barky when she's on her leash, although she's starting to grow out of it a bit and getting more selective about who should be on the receiving end. (For example, she no longer barks at the nice lady who lives upstairs and always pets her and says hi, but she still barks at McCrochety, who does nothing but complain about her and everything else. Smart girl.)

Still, she's learned enough to pass the test, and it's not an easy one. I do have to admit, a big part of me is just relieved that we don't have to repeat this class; we've been doing obedience since the end of last December, and I think the whole family is a bit tired of the routine. But when I think of how far we've come, I know all the time and effort was worth it. I'm so proud of my girl!

As for what's next, Stella plans to take a well-deserved break for a little while and then jump into therapy dog training, maybe early next year. Someday, she hopes to become a full-fledged service dog. Or a model, she can't decide.

After last night, I know she could do anything she puts her mind to.

My Own List of 30 Skills

After reviewing the list of 30 skills to have before 30 (according to thefrisky.com), I thought I'd put together my own list. Because when it comes right down to it, I don't think it's really important for me to know how to hard boil an egg.

I kept these from thefrisky's list.

1. Ask a man out
2. Send a thoughtful thank you note
3. Say "no" gracefully
4. Balance her checkbook
5. Read a map
6. Apologize when she's wrong
7. Dress for her body type
8. Feign interest

And here are the rest, according to me. Be it known that I am not proficient at all of these, but again, I've got 10 days.

9. Craft a well-written letter (be it a complaint letter to a company, a cover letter for a job or a letter to the editor of the local paper)
10. Bake a cake or cookies from scratch
11. Gracefully give and accept compliments
12. Gracefully give and accept criticism
13. Seek professional help (be it plumber, psychologist, lawyer, whatever)
14. Navigate a party full of strangers
15. Foster a new friendship
16. Make a clever joke at exactly the right time
17. Walk away from an argument with dignity, not parting shots
18. Find fulfilling ways to spend a free day
19. Special order something in a restaurant
20. Take a great photo
21. Defend herself, both verbally and physically
22. Cook a fantastic holiday meal
23. Clean everything in her home
24. Stand up for a good cause
25. Knowledgeably choose a candidate for public office
26. Laugh at herself
27. Put together a great outfit
28. Know how to do at least one thing no one else she knows knows how to do
29. Navigate a new city
30. Genuinely celebrate a friend's successes when faced with personal challenges

10 To 30

With 10 days to go before my 30th birthday, I read with interest this list of 30 Skills Every Woman Should Have Before Turning 30, according to thefrisky.com.

Let's see if the frisky folks would think I'm ready. Here are the skills I either have or need to acquire in the next 10 days.

1. Hard boil an egg
I know how to do this, but I never eat hard-boiled eggs, so I have only ever used this skill when making Easter eggs to color or potato salad for my mom.

2. Diplomatically tell Mom to butt-out
My mom doesn't really butt in too much, but if she did, I would use the same policy for her as I use for others who do butt in: I just wouldn't tell her things.

3. Ace a job interview
I need to work on that one. I'm much better on paper than in person.

4. Ask a man out
I wouldn't say I've ever been good at this, but now that I'm married, it's easy: "Honey, should we go to the movies Saturday? Yeah? Cool."

5. Send a thoughtful thank you note
I don't write thank you notes as often as I maybe should, but I do write them, and I think I do a decent job.

6. Listen to a friend in need
This is tricky. I'm not really the shoulder-to-cry-on friend. I'm the already-cried-and-now-I-need-a-sarcastic-comment friend. But if all of the friend's shoulder-to-cry-on friends are all busy that day, I do alright as long as I don't have to say anything caring and supportive.

7. Ask for help
I'm about 50/50 on this one. Sometimes I ask for help on things I could really do myself, but then other times, I refuse to ask when I should. But I'd say I get it right about half the time.

8. Effectively end an unhealthy relationship (romantic or platonic in nature)
This is a skill I only recently picked up in the past few years. I still don't find it easy, but luckily, I don't have to do it very often.

9. Beautifully wrap a gift
Hmm. I might be able to do this if I actually tried. I can wrap OK if I take the time and effort, but I've never really done the curly ribbon and all that jazz.

10. Say “no” gracefully
Sadly, this is one skill I have not yet learned at all. Guess I've got 10 days to pick it up.

11. Whip up a great dinner with the five items in her fridge
I guess I could do this. I don't know if I'd want to have company over that night, though.

12. Forget pleasing him, by 30 a woman should be able to tell her man exactly how to please her
Um, my mom reads this blog, so I'm just gonna ignore this one.

13. Sew a button
Learned this at age 10.

14. Mix a kick-ass cocktail
This is along the lines the cooking with five items thing. I could probably make a cocktail I like, but I don't know if anyone else would like it.

15. Take off her bra without removing her shirt
Yeah, I can do this.

16. Apply lip gloss in the dark
I guess I could do this, but I don't know why I ever would.

17. Balance her checkbook
Yeah, I can do this too.

18. Create a budget
Can I? Yes. Do I? Not so much. At least, not in written form.

19. Find the best deal
I'm insanely cheap, so yes, this is a skill I have. For me, the bigger lesson was knowing that "deal" doesn't always mean cheaper, that sometimes, paying more actually gets you more.

20. Negotiate a salary and/or pay raise
I can't do this, but then again, I've never really felt the need.

21. Read a map
I have a terrible sense of direction, so this is something I can and must definitely do.

22. Hail a cab
I don't think I've ever had to do this, but I could, I guess.

23. Say something in French just for the hell of it
Voulez-vous du beurre?

24. Apologize when she’s wrong
I'm not sure I spelled that French thing right. If I didn't, I'm sorry. Does that count?

25. Dress for her body type
Eh. I don't do great, but I think I avoid the worst pitfalls most of the time. I do this by dressing boring.

26. Change a flat (or know who to call to come change it)
In theory, I know how to change a flat, but I haven't ever done it when not under the watchful eye of my dad. But in case it's ever an issue, I have my husband on speed dial.

27. Spot a fake (handbag, diamond, potential friend…)
Handbag? Possibly. Diamond? Maybe. Potential friend? Absolutely.

28. Feign interest
Are you kidding? My entire professional life is based on this skill.

29. Know what to tip on a $25 dinner bill
Yes, and if I ever forget, some lady once gave me a little wallet card with a chart on it.

30. Hold a baby
I can do this, but don't tell my mother-in-law.

An Open Letter To CNN.com

Dear CNN.com,

My boss says that when giving criticism to someone, you should open with a compliment, then give your criticism, then close with a compliment, so the person or party doesn't think you're being too harsh. That said, I'd like to tell you a few things.

1. You're pretty good at taking a news story from a few years ago and making it look like a new one by putting a current-sounding headline on it.

2. I read this on your website today:

After his father was diagnosed with dementia in 1996, Anthony Lazzara Jr. faced a difficult decision: He either could place his father in a facility, or him and his wife could care for him themselves.

Him and his wife? Are you kidding me? Did a third grader write this? I can't believe such a glaring and ugly grammatical error would be committed by a major news source like you. Do you not have proofreaders? Or are they third graders too? I overlook a lot of dumb stuff on your website, but this makes me want to stop reading it altogether.

3. I like your hair.

Sincerely,
Erika

My Favorite Stuff I Had As A Kid

I felt a little bad about mentioning all that stuff my parents denied me as a child. So I figure it's only fair to talk about some of my favorite things I had. Because, you know, people totally care about that stuff.

My Earring Tree -- It looked like a rainbow, and it was sparkly. I think it mostly delighted me because having it meant my ears were pierced, and everyone knows you're nobody till you get your ears pierced. (Erika trivia -- I got my ears pierced on October 19, 1985, my seventh birthday. Or was it my sixth birthday in 1984? I must check with my mom to see if she remembers. I know for sure it was the same year she got the blue drapes for the living room, because she took my picture modeling my new earrings in front of her new drapes.)

Albert the Running Bear and Violet the Exercise Bear -- In second grade, Mrs. Gilvary had an Albert and a Violet that everybody took turns taking home for a night or a weekend. We all loved them. For Christmas that year, I got an Albert as a present, and then I won Violet in a class raffle of some sort. Mrs. Gilvary's class was the best. (Erika trivia -- I was so mad when I found out that Kurt Knott said that my Albert wasn't a real Albert because his sweatsuit was blue and Mrs. Gilvary's Albert wore a red sweatsuit. I'd really liked Kurt Knott before that, and that just ruined my whole opinion of him.)

My Chalkboard -- My parents probably got it for me thinking it might be a fun way for me to learn things. But mostly I remember using it to play school and yelling at my imaginary students. And coloring it by turning the chalk sideways and scribbling with the whole side of the piece.

My Pencil With The Replaceable Points -- I have no idea what they are actually called, but it was, as I remember, sort of a precursor to the mechanical pencil. They had a bunch of plastic tips inside them, with lead points, and once you wore down the lead, you'd take that tip off, push it down through the top of the pencil, and a brand new one would come out! You never had to sharpen your pencil! That is the one and only thing in my life that I had before anyone else I knew.

My Books -- At one point, I owned every book in the Baby-Sitters Club series and every book in the Sweet Valley Twins series. The former was my favorite; I can still remember the thrill I felt every time I opened a new one to read. I don't know what's wrong with kids today that they need Harry Potter as an incentive to read. I was happy with the stories of a bunch of dorky girls with after-school babysitting jobs. (Erika trivia -- I only had up to #41 in the BSC series and don't think I read anything after that. So if anyone wants to get me the rest for my birthday, I think that's a very appropriate gift for someone who is turning 30. I don't remember where I stopped collecting the Sweet Valley Twins books, so obviously, I was not as much of a fan as I thought at the time.)

My Phone -- My favorite thing about it was that it had a "hold" button. I thought that was very grown up. (Erika trivia -- In middle school, Krista Shellenberger gave me a diary as a present. There were two keys with it, and I dropped one down into the phone through a little space by the hangup button. It remained there until the phone stopped working in college.)

My Roller Skates and My Skate Case -- Oh, the days of Saturday mornings at Great Skate. (Erika trivia -- my seventh birthday party was held there. Among my gifts was a Derek Barbie and the Rockers doll from Darcey Mesaris.)

My Caboodles -- Ever since Kelly Leiter got one, I wanted one of those things so bad. Snoopy Snowcone Machine bad. Partly because they were so darn cool, and partly because having one meant I would probably also have some makeup to put in it. And for my 12th birthday, I got three. A little one (from Steph Moulthrop) a medium one with two trays that slid out from the middle (from Darcey Mesaris) and a huge one with a mirror and two trays that lifted up from inside (from my mom). And funnily enough, they all matched. That was the best birthday ever. (Erika trivia -- That was the year I had a joint birthday party with Steph Moulthrop, and I got really mad about something and ended up going upstairs to sleep in my bed. I went back down eventually.)

Things I Always Wanted When I Was A Kid But Never Got

A coworker of mine came in to work today with a hat that looks like a Hungry Hungry Hippo. She plans to wear it as part of her Halloween costume. When I was little, I always wanted that game but never had it. Seeing that hat got me to thinking about some of the other stuff I wanted but never got, and since my birthday is coming up, I thought I'd compile a list.

Snoopy Snowcone Machine -- I can't even tell you how much I wanted one of these. I don't know why; I don't even like snowcones. But even now, I think if I got one as a present, I might cry tears of joy...and then put it in the back of my kitchen cabinet, because I'd never, ever use it.

Cowboy (or Cowgirl) Boots -- In first grade, Krista Smith had a pair I coveted. They were gray. That is all I remember about Krista Smith.

My Little Pony -- I had a kick-ass My Little Pony game that had a carousel with a ball on top, and when you pumped the ball up and down, it made the carousel spin. Then whatever color came up when it stopped, you got a rubber stamp of the pony that color. And whoever got all the colors first won, or something. But I never had any actual My Little Pony ponies. In retrospect, I'm not sure why I cared, because I've never liked horses.

Leather Pants -- I'm not sure if I really wanted these or just thought they were super cool, but I remember saying once that I liked the ones on the lady in the "99 Red Balloons" video. My sister made fun of me. In retrospect, though, she was right. Leather pants would have a looked kind of strange on a six-year-old.

Pound Puppy -- We didn't have a real dog either. My parents were so mean.

Cabbage Patch Kid Musical Swing -- I totally don't remember wanting this, but a few years ago, when my parents pulled out the old Santa letters (erm, I mean copies of the Santa letters, because the originals obviously went to the big guy himself) I had asked for it like four years in a row.

An Open Letter To The Chicago White Sox

Dear Chicago White Sox,

I'm sure every member of your team is a loyal reader of this blog, and you've simply been waiting in the wings with your barbecue chips (Nick Swisher), Chief Crunchie ice cream bars (Alexei Ramirez), Sprite (Brian Anderson) and grilling tools (A.J. Pierzynski) for an invitation to a barbecue at my house.

Well, if you'll all just send me your e-mail addresses, I will happily send you that invite now, because thanks to the best e-card website ever, I finally have the perfect thing to send. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,
Erika

P.S. Good luck with the whole playoff thing. If you win the World Series again, maybe I can spring for a cake that says "congratulations." Or a Fudgie the Whale cake.

More Than Words

Two days ago, I woke up with that bubble-in-my-throat feeling that made me think I might be coming down with something. Yesterday, I again woke up with it, and it stayed.

Today, I woke up feeling mostly alright, but curiously, I have absolutely no voice. And I mean no voice at all. If I drink a glass of water, I can get a couple of words out, but I sound like one of Marge Simpson's sisters.

This rarely happens to me. I can think of only one other time it has when my voice has gone away for longer than the few minutes after I get out of bed. In a way, it's kind of nice to be alone and quiet with me. But on the other hand, it makes it a little hard when I actually have to communicate. I seem to be able to squeak out only a few letters here and there. Stella has been looking at me funny all morning long, probably because she's been hearing me say things like, ".... .... .... g.... f..... g... d...." And even I don't know what that means.

Go, You Chicken Fat, Go!

Last night during my workout session, my personal trainer, Megan, told me she plans to flee the country in June to backpack through Europe for awhile. She said she figures now is a good time to do it, since she's young and has nothing tying her down.

I'm totally excited for her, and I think it's a great thing. But who is going to get me all buff and fit now? I guess I can work with someone else, but I really like Megan, and I'm seeing results under her tutelage. I don't want her to leave!

I told her she is not allowed to go anywhere until I reach my fitness goals. She then made me do the hardest workout she's ever made me do, sending me home with jelly for legs.

I guess she's really serious about this whole Europe thing.