Things I’ve learned lately:

1) If a friend gossips to you about people and then is simpering sweet to the people they gossip about, don’t kid yourself. They are probably doing the same thing to you.

2) If a friend smears your reputation and makes false accusations, you don’t need to defend yourself to others. Take the high road. The truth will out!

3) Colbert and Stewart will always cheer you up.

manic Monday

A little rest and play in the midst of work.  Hope you have a good week friends. . .Spring is here!

1. Love it or hate it. . .this was interesting to watch.

2. More art deco jewelry. I’m obsessed.

3.  “That’s right.  Somebody called the cops on Jesus.”

4.  I can’t stand the blogger Matt Walsh, as you may have surmised.  Neither can these brilliant writers.

5.  YUM.  Found my new spring drink.



6.  Freshen up your tunes.

7.  May the force be with you.  Thanks to Bobbie for turning me on to Vadering.

8.  Not sure I agree, but she has a point with the uterus thing.

9.  Miso deviled eggs for Easter.

10.  My new favorite date night place.

photo 2

2good2b4gotten, or why I leave Facebook

Remember back in high school when you had yearbook signing day? Finals were over, and you got this glossy big, pristine book. First you found every picture of yourself via the index, and then spent the next hour (or more) devouring pictures of your friends, enemies, and—that most delightful of categories—frenemies.  Club and team “candid” shots were the best, especially if your school gave the yearbook staff free reign to caption them.  And then there were the glorious blank pages at the back for friends to leave their well-wishes for the summer.  I went to four different high schools, and despite being everywhere briefly, the rush and anxiety of filling those pages was always the same.  Did people really like me? Would Candice Camp even sign if I asked, or was she too cool for that? Would Desiree write “friends4ever” or the sweet but generic “2good2b4gotten” which might mean we wouldn’t hang out this summer?  Were people going to like what I wrote?  How could I sound affectionate but not needy?  Were my pens sparkly enough?  Too sparkly to be legible?…and so on. The signing came and went, and the number of signatures I got (yes, most girls count them) was pretty proportional to how long I’d been at that school.

I’d spend the next few days poring over those messages like I was learning to read Braille.  All of them made me feel popular, because everyone knows that on Yearbook Signing Day, you must be nicer than you are.  50% of your messages are how you feel, and 50% are how you want third parties to see you.  So Candice wrote “love and kisses,” despite not knowing my last name, and the cheerleaders signed all their names with a heart.  (If you were in the top tier of high school like the cheerleaders, you just signed your name, like MADONNA.)  Some people left their telephone numbers or (in the days pre-internet) their home addresses *gasp*.  When I returned to school in the fall, the people who were really excited to see me were a small percentage of those who had signed my yearbook—only a slightly larger percentage than the 3 friends I’d hung out with over the summer. That’s why the first day of school is always hard—you think you are entering Yearbook Signing Day 2.0, but Yearbook Signing Day has its own rules.   And the people you hang out with over the summer are never the people who say, “Can’t w8 2cya this summer K?”



It’s occurred to me lately that Facebook is a lot like Yearbook Signing Day, but it NEVER ENDS. Those red notifications (which I should probably turn off) accompany breakfast, lunch and dinner. If I’m sitting on the toilet for a long period of time, I will (truth be told) scroll through my newsfeed.  Most of the news is unremarkable, although some of my friends post pretty interesting news articles.  I’ve been on Facebook since April 9, 2005…or so my feed tells me. And I will probably be on Facebook until the next cool thing is invented (and no it’s not Twitter). But every few months, I leave Facebook for awhile. Present tense.  Hardly anyone notices, and the friends who do just shrug and know I’ll be back. The FB always has a way of bringing me back to her soft, warm lap like a kicking, screaming toddler. It’s only a matter of time.  During these Facebook “fasts” as I like to call them, these are my general thoughts:

Day 1:  (Twitches for phone. . .)  No.  I can do this.
Day 2:  Checks Facebook anyway.  Surprised to be bored with the content.
Day 3:  No Facebook at all today.  Feel strangely alive.
Day 4:  Nobody likes me.
Day 5:  Do they even have my email address?  Yes.
Day 6:  People only like me when I’m posting pictures of my baby.
Day 7:  Why is no one calling me?
Day 8:  Oh, Bobbie called.  Bobbie likes me.
Day 9:  Facebook is for suckers.  They don’t need me and I don’t need them.
Day 10:  (Twitches for phone. . .)  No.  I can do this.


When Facebook first started, it felt like a Yearbook.  I went back to some wall posts from 2005.  Here is one: “Hey Heather!  I just saw pictures of a cute dog on your wall.  Is it yours?  Love it.  Well, hope to see ya in class!  Love, Bekah.”  Oh, those days. . .this is Facebook’s intent.  It’s a giant yearbook that makes it easy for us to be mushy toward each other.  Without it, we feel alone.  Hell, without my cell phone in my hand and those notifications cropping up, I feel alone.  Which is why I take Facebook fasts.  3 Weeks is usually the amount of time it takes for me to remember who my REAL friends are, and who I really am.  Turns out I have friends who call, email and text and ask about what’s actually going on in my life.  The ones that are saving for a visit.  But I stay on Facebook ultimately because of those people who are between my actual friends and strangers.  Those lovely people I may have been close to at one point who say they want to talk on the phone/visit the next time they are in NYC, and yet it never happens.  I am 2good2b4gotten, but I AM forgotten when I’m not on Facebook.  And what I want to say to myself and to you (because we all have friends like this) is that IT’S OK to outgrow people and for friendships to be modified.  Facebook wants to convince you that you are in a perpetual Yearbook Signing Day.  The FB exists to make you think that no matter how you move, grow, or change, the same friends are still there for you.   But just because you peer into each others’ lives and give virtual high-fives does not mean you are still the same kind of friends you were.  Or, as my REAL friend Chris put it so eloquently:

“Oh hey, we were friends in high school.  And now I know that he had Cheerios for breakfast and can see daily pictures of his dog.”

Facebook prizes the Candices of this world with their red notifications, but those friends are not who we hang out with over the summer.  I dare you to ignore Facebook all day today, or even sign out for a few weeks.  Time will slow down.  You will probably have mini-panic attacks like I did above, and gorge yourself on Girl Scout cookies (guilty!).  But eventually, life will feel richer, and you’ll remember who is REALLY 2good2b4gotten.

PS.  If you are a Facebook user and have found a good way to be Zen and detached from the whole thing, I’d love to read your wisdom!  Seriously.

tip Tuesday: add the veggies first!

I’ve started running again.  I use “again” loosely because the last time I ran several times a week was 2005.  I signed up for a 5K that’s at the end of April. . .gulp.  I try to run in the morning after breakfast, provided that Lucy is fed and not screaming like a banshee—something that never happens anyway, so I don’t have an excuse to NOT run.  One morning I’m hoping she’ll freak out or projectile vomit so I can be like “darn” and avoid the whole wheezing-in-the-park-and-cramping thing.  Kidding.  Sort of. Here is NASA space-mission baby, ready for the park.Lucy in strollerOmelets are great before running—they aren’t too heavy and you get protein, dairy, and veggies.  In experimenting with them I discovered my omelet methodology has been incorrect for years.  One morning I randomly cooked the spinach first with a little olive oil, then added the egg on top to fill in the gaps once the spinach shrunk a bit.  It ended up looking beautiful, like a restaurant omelet, so guess I should have been paying better attention when omelets are served in the first place.  Or looked up how to actually make an omelet.  Ain’t nobody got time for that!

My friend Bobbie taught me to top omelets with as much hot sauce as humanly palatable.  I think of it as a coffee replacement to wake me up.  Sriracha (so relieved that plant shut-down hasn’t happened yet) or good ol’ Taco Bell sauce are the best.  I recently made a Taco Bell run at Penn Station for a bean burrito—and shamelessly put 12 hot sauces into my purse ;)  There are only like 10 Taco Bells in all of Manhattan, so I have to maximize those moments of pilfering.omelet w/hot sauceArugula works as well and I am going to try with more veggies. . .artichokes next?  This omelet and tea in the cutest mug ever and I’m usually able to get my butt out the door a little faster.  Enjoy!

5-minute Omelet

Before you start: do NOT be intimidated by the omelet.  The less time you spend on them, the better. Also, use the smallest frying pan you own, and flipping will be easy!

Put 2 cups of spinach into a small sauce pan—turn on high.  Pour 2 tsp. olive oil on top.  Stir around a little bit until the spinach has shrunk to half its original size.  While spinach is cooking, whisk 2 eggs in a bowl.  Pour whisked eggs on top of spinach and swirl around pan to evenly coat.  Let rest for a minute.  Swirl pan again so that the gooey eggs parts go to the outside rim of the omelet.  If it’s still really gooey in the middle, break the middle of the omelet (making a hole) and let the gooey parts fall into that and solidify.  Add feta cheese to the middle of the omelet, and sprinkle some pepper. Using a spatula, fold the omelet in half.  Flip it so the sides are evenly cooked.  Douse in favorite hot sauce.  Note:  You do NOT need to add salt because feta and hot sauce have plenty of salt in them!west elm mug