Tag: me time

How Charming

Hilary with One L’s Charm Bracelet

I don’t wear a lot of jewelry.  My wedding rings, my watch and I’m out the door.  I’m so rough on my hands, I’m afraid that I’m going to snag a bracelet or a ring on something and either rip the setting apart or lose the whole piece entirely.  Still, when I’m feeling fancy or really want to dress up something as basic as a tee shirt and jeans, I turn to my charm bracelet that Craig started for me several years ago.  The first charm was the round T& Co charm for a Christmas gift.  The second was the little blue box because, who doesn’t like to see a little blue box? My third charm was the number 7, which holds special significance to me.  My last charm was the apple which was given to me by Craig. Without getting too personal, let’s just say that after many married years, I’m still tempting to my hubs the way the apple tempted Adam and Eve.  I think there’s room on there for one more, and I’ve got my eye on something like this:

(image)
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IN: ON: January 24, 2012 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Office Space

One of the things I like about our new house is that there is a room on the third floor that I have claimed as my own. I have an office! With a door that closes!  Woo-woo!

When we moved, this coveted space became a wasteland for all of the post-move detritus.  Boxes of books, holiday decor, old children’s clothes, my Stampin’ Up! stuff, and more boxes of books.  There were piles of random electrical cords, computer attachments, and instruction manuals.  A VCR/DVD combo unit took up residence alongside a bag full of totebags.  Seriously, there was a big Nike gym bag full of assorted soft bags.  In the middle of this melee was our “computer desk” and chair.  I use the words computer desk lightly because in truth, it was just a table we scored at an office firesale many, many years ago.  I mean, give me a board and two saw horses and I could fashion a better desk.

My goal has been to de-junk the office, get some real office furniture and truly make this place my own.  It’s been a process, but I’m nearing the home stretch. I’ve gotten most, if not all of the boxes unpacked. Those that aren’t or can’t be until we can conjure up some more space in the attic have been artfully tucked into these little wall cut-outs in the room.  When it came time to get those things off of the floor and out of sight, I was stacking boxes like I was playing Tetris.

I’ve got a for real desk that I put together myself:

and I got a coordinating chair, that yes, I put together myself!

Talk about a labor of love. You know that construction is going to be time consuming when you make a mental note that there are more pouches of screws than letters in the alphabet (anyone see packet PP?). And there was in fact a piece missing from the box that the chair was delivered in, but I haven’t fall out of it and it hasn’t fallen to pieces, so I’m calling this a win.

I scored some green accent lamps at Target, along with one of those 9-cube bookcases to house as many books as I can squeeze in there.  There’s been some overflow, but for now, most are displayed and I can put my hands on what I’m looking for when I want to.  Plus, the top of the bookcase makes for a great display shelf of some of my sorority paraphernalia.  I think the last time it was displayed was probably when I crossed!

I also scoured through all kinds of Container Store and Hold Everything type of places until I found the right shade of green photo archival boxes.  Once and for all, I went through all of my loose photos, even the ones dating back past high school, and categorized them.  Opposite the wall-cut outs, there are some built in shelves.  In went the photo storage boxes (strategically placed) amongst some camera equipment, some books, and Craig’s mini collection of die cast Porche 911’s.  In my head, this is my office, but I deigned to give him a shelf so he feels included.

After all the DIY of the chair and the desk, the unpacking of books, the place was looking kind of crusty and dusty.  So, I hauled the vacuum cleaner up the stairs and actually vacuumed.  You know, the vac and I have an on again, off again relationship, so this is a big deal.  Nothing beats seeing fresh vacuum tracks in the carpet, though, right?  Ahhhh. . .  the place is clean, airy, and ready for work.  And I really enjoy coming up here and putting in some work, be it to edit some photos, work on a blog post, hide from the children.

It’s so nice and organized in here.  It’s great, but I think I cleaned up too well.  There are about half a dozen things I can’t find: my tripod, my extra camera bag, my box of poetry books (because sometimes I really want to read some Langston Hughes), my Modelogic portfolio.   I have a sinking feeling that they’re tucked in some kind of suspended animation in one of those wall cut outs, way behind the remaining boxes of stuff.  It’s going to take a stick of dynamite to move that stuff.

Maybe I don’t need those things right now, afterall. . . .

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IN: ON: November 15, 2011 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Day 12: A Day When You Were Happy

NX Chapter, Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated
Spring 2000
Howard University, Washington DC
April 11, 2010

Ask the average geek off the street what are the first few words that come to mind when they hear the word sorority; I’d bet they wouldn’t be anything too flattering. Elle Woods, anyone? 
Growing up, I didn’t know much about sororities at all.  My mom was a lapsed member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated.   My neighbor became a member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated in college, like her own mother, but that didn’t mean much either. It all seemed like a secret society that you either had the lineage to become a part of or not. 
In high school, a friend of mine proudly talked of her mother’s affiliation with DST all the time.  “I’m going to be a Delta, just like my mom,” she’d say.  When it came time to apply to colleges, most of us were considering location, majors offered and proximity to decent entertainment. She was concerned about which schools had active chapters. 
When I got to college, becoming a member of a sorority was certainly a path I wanted to take, but I knew that it was only going to be part of my entire college experience.  Black Greek Letter Organizations (BGLO’s) like AKA and DST don’t hold formal rush the way the other Greek organizations do.  At various points in college, I saw my roommates participate in rush and get immediately caught up in an alphabet soup of choices.  Pi Phi, Tri-Delt, Theta, Delta Gamma. In a matter of days, they whittled down their choices, waiting for bids, hoping to be the next branch of the Big-Big, Big-Little Sisterhood tree of their choosing. 
Junior year, my roommate narrowed things down to Chi Omega, Kappa Kappa Gamma and Kappa Alpha Theta.  How could she choose? They were all so different and several fulfilled long held campus stereotypes. Some of her choices even were rival organizations, I think. All of this was so foreign to me.  My experience was that among the BGLO’s for women, there was only one choice, Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated.  If you had to go another route,  there were other organizations, like Delta, Zeta Phi Beta or Sigma Gamma Rho.  And even then, you didn’t base your selection on the organizations colors, mascots or their step team championship record.  You supported their activities, both parties and service projects.  Regardless of the organization you chose, you did so with an eye to the future.  Service doesn’t stop just because you graduate. 
So, how does this relate to the picture above? Those are 6 of my 8 lines sisters, 10 years to the day after we became members of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated.  We are visiting the campus of Howard University where in 1908, our beloved sorority was founded.  We went on to spend the week-end in DC just hanging out in Georgetown.  Several of us learned that one of our sorors was expecting for the first time in the coming months.  Another soror announced her engagement, saying that her fiance waited until the day before we got together to propose so she could show off her ring to “her sisters”.   
Nice dinner, walking and window-shopping, waiting goo-gobs of time in line for Georgetown Cupcake to let us in; just a laid back, girls’ get-away.  Girls, women actually, can be so catty and conniving that it makes it tough to be around them for long periods of time. I’m not saying that the 9 of us weren’t without our moments back in the day. It doesn’t matter though, because  even after all the time that has passed since college and despite the different life choices we’ve made, we are still bonded through our shared experiences as women of Alpha Kappa Alpha. 
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IN: ON: March 15, 2011 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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Girl, where’ve you been?

Oh, how I wish I had some exotic locale to say that I’d decided to make my new home, but sadly, nope. I’ve just been busy. I mean, really busy, and yet, if you were to ask me what I’ve been doing, I’d be grasping as straws to tell you. Let me see if I can cull together some highlights of what’s been going down.

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Tennis — so you remember how I told you that I had been hitting the courts at least twice a week?  Things have been going really well.  My lessons and my hard work are paying off.  I can actually see improvement!  I’m breaking my bad habits while the new ones are taking hold. I’m not saying I’m ready for the USTA and any tours, but I’m feeling more confident about the regular doubles matches that I play.  I’ve been regularly subbing in this round robin comprised of 8 senior citizen ladies.  Seriously, I’m playing doubles with the Golden Girls.

The woman closest to me in age is 53 and the oldest is 78.  No joke. The first time I played with them, one of the ladies kind of burnt out in the warm up.  My partner, who is 68 says, “Damnit, Patsy! I came here to play, not to watch you huff and puff on the sidelines.  I told you to stay on your oxygen.”

Holy. Crap. Cakes.

The woman with the oxygen was quick to tell me that she’d had a mini stroke during one match, but kept on playing.  Yo! Don’t sleep on these old broads.  They’re playing through strokes, they had me running like windshield wipers all over the court for these drop shots, and they talk more trash than the Waste Management Authority.

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 P90X – What can I say? 30 days are behind me and I’m down 4 pounds and 3 inches from my waist.  Clearly, something is working.  You know, Tony Horton gives a little confessional at the beginning of each workout, going on and on about what this particular work out is going to do for you and how if you want to see results, you better “bring it”.  The ab routine, called Ab Ripper X , has this confessional, too. He’s all, “Oh you do 349 moves.  And you’ll have ripped abs, yadda, yadda, yadda.”  Then he looks into the camera and says, “Ab Ripper X! I hate it. . . .but I love it. “

I’m on week 6 and as far as me and Ab Ripper X go? I hate it. . . .no, I just hate it.

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Glee — My new favorite show!  I can’t remember how I got hooked on this one, but the next thing I know, Netflix couldn’t send them fast enough.  When that got maxed out, Hulu and I became besties.  I was walking around the house, laptop in hand so I could watch episodes. I watch the show even while the DVR is recording it. I know, it’s ridiculous.  Probably because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I’m living vicariously through this show.  Seriously, I lip sync “Happy Birthday”.  Anyway, I’m a “Gleek“, I’ll admit it.  First of all, I want Emma Pillsbury’s wardobe.  I even found this blog about what she wears and how you can find similar knockoffs.  Click here and thank me later.  If I could sing, I can’t decide if I want Rachel’s voice or Kurt’s. And if Mr. Shue does one more Color Me Badd/Vanilla Ice/Tone Loc cover I am going to die of embarassment for him.

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Reading — I have been looking for a good book for a while now, and I finally got my hands on something halfway decent. Of course, I burned right through it, but that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’ve got a good read.  I was reading two books at once, “Self Made Man” by Norah Vincent and “The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox” by Maggie O’Farrell, but I realized I could really enjoy the latter until I finished the former.  It was like eating my veggies in order to get to dessert.  I mean, I like vegetables, but we all know dessert and I have a very special relationship.  Very special, hence my new relationship with Tony Horton.  When it comes to those 4:45a work outs, I feel like Antoine and Blaine:

But I digress. 
I’m looking for another book to give up my household responsibilities for, so send titles my way.  

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Hanging out with BBC — My brother has been in town twice in the past two weeks, which has been really nice.  He’s come over for dinner and some quality time with the girls.  They’ve tried to con him into reading entire shelves of books, they manage to get from their chair into his lap throughout the course of a meal, and effectively relieve him of his iPhone to play Flickr Fish until someone (Morgan) cries that someone else isn’t sharing (Coever).  Last night, we went out to dinner with a girlfriend of mine and cut up like we had nothing to do tomorrow.

Several margaratini’s, margaritas, and a sangria later, the sweater comes off and the smiles come out!

We are definitely doing this again.
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Pretending to be Annie Liebovtiz — DH and I have been talking about getting a new camera.  I think I’m  ready for an SLR, even though it doesn’t have the sleekness of the compact models, and even though it means I’ll be schlepping more stuff around with me.  I’m just ready to take better pictures.  With that, of course, means learning about all the tips and tricks that go with SLR photography.  I got some books from the library, but I’m wondering if they’ve got a Rosetta Stone for Digital Photography because the vocab alone is enough to make me break out some flash cards to keep it straight.  Sure, I’d be tempted to just learn as I go, but an SLR, especially the Nikon D90 (*drool*) is was too pricey to waste time trying to figure it out.

My friend, Lacey, was kind enough to let me test drive her Canon PowerShotXT.  SO nice.  I had no clue what I was doing when I would increase or decrease the ISO (I’m still not entirely clear on what ISO is anyway), nor did I really see a difference between AV Mode and M, but I did get some nice pictures of the girls.

And DH even turned the camera on me for an impromptu snap session a la Austin Powers. 

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The Usual — I’ve been running errands, chauffeuring girls to school and playdates. I’ve hauled out the sprinkler, grilled burgers, had drinks with a neighbor (thanks, Kim), gone to the library, Target, Trader Joe’s and back again.

We took the girls to Jamestown, we went to see my parents, we went out for sushi with my brother and Morgan proceeded to eat her California rolls, Coever’s California rolls, my dragon roll and my mom’s Umi.  Then she asked for dessert (definitely my child).

I’ve gone to a baby shower, I’ve been to birthday parties, I’ve hung out with my girlfriends more than I have in months and I’m loving it.

I’ve been told I’m “too smokin’ hot” to wear flats all of the time, so I’m working heels into my wardrobe rotation.  Point of Clarification: You know you need to make some changes when you throw a pair of heels on with some jeans and folks start asking you why you’re all dressed up!

 Sadly, I did something to my knee last week, so I’ve been “keeping off of it” but really, that just means, I’ve scaled down from 20mph to about 18mph.

 I’ve been working on this post for two days!  More like eight if you count the six days it took me to organize this in my head.  I haven’t spell checked it either.

I’m just too busy.

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IN: ON: May 13, 2010 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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I Never Said I Was Miss Congeniality

So, DH and I have recently joined a tennis center to add a little variety in our exercise routines and to provide us with an alternative to the dinner & a movie, dinner & a movie, dinner & a movie repetitiveness of date night.
I’m enjoying it quite a bit. In addition to weekly clinics, I’ve been tapped on occasion to join other members on the court for friendly matches. Now, I’ve “played” tennis, or more appropriately, I’ve handled a racquet since 1991 — good grief, that’s 20 plus years. The great thing about tennis is it’s like riding a bike. So long as the mechanics are there, you don’t really lose it.
I got called to play a singles match against another new club member, and while I consider doubles my forte, I was kind of excited. I thought, “Hey, I’ve been doing well at the clinics. My ground strokes are coming back. This’ll be good.”
I headed out there feeling like this. . . .

but by the time I got to the courts, I was feeling more like this. . .

Nerves, man. My nerves were crucial. I had to feel her out to see what I could expect. Everyone talks a little trash to do just that and I’m no exception. It was kind of like that playdate poker, trying to figure out what’s what.
Me: So, have you been playing long?
Her: Oh, I haven’t played in a while. I’m just getting back into it.
Me: Oh, yeah, me, too. I’ve been playing off and on, but mostly off.
Her: Oh, okay. Did you start playing in high school or in college?
Me: I started playing back in ’91, middle school, actually.
Her: Oh, really? I went to college on a tennis scholarship. Tsk, tsk, such a long time ago.
Me: Oh, don’t worry about it. Anita at the front told me that you were in your 40’s (meoowwwww!!) but that you’d have no problems keeping up.
We just served up big plates of BS with a side of put up or shut up, which meant we both were pretty nervous. We rally back and forth for a while to warm up, and I can tell, she’s very good. One of the things I have going for me though, is that I will run for anything. So drop it short, I’m out of the gate and charging towards it. Cross court, down the line, whatever, I’m going for it. Then, I’m gunning for the net because volleying is one of my favorite things.
Another favorite of mine is my cross court backhand. Once I get the rhythm, it’s pretty kick ass. Summer after summer sweltering on public courts, and winter after winter, suffocating on indoor courts, I really honed that nice two handed cross. Add a little topspin on it, and watch out now. Like I said, though, I’ve been playing more off than on, so my consistency is on that shot is for crap.
Anyway, Miss College Scholarship and I start playing. My serve, which is the equivalent of Rocky Dennis in terms of beauty, is actually holding. One thing that has always irked me about tennis is that no matter how many points you win in a game, even if you come back from love and have about 2 dozen deuce points, if you lose the game, you lose the game. She’s up 3 to 1 in the first set, which is respectable. I got a game, I could probably eke out a few more.
My backhand is coming around and my forehand doesn’t want to be left out. She serves, nice little spinner in the middle of the box that jumps to the backhand side on the bounce. I get my racquet on it just enough to send it squealing to the forehand corner just between the inner alley line and the baseline.
Ol‘ girl, once she figures it out, starts digging to the corner, racquet rolling back and then. . .
She’s airborne.
It was the longest seven seconds of my life.
She reached.
She swung, and the momentum kept her going a few feet until she landed on her left knee and right forearm before skidding to a stop.
Oh. My. Sweet. Mother. Of. Pearl
The pro on the other court, another pro who had been watching from the doorway, and I swarmed over to her where I think her pride was throbbing more than her knee and arm combined.
Thankfully, nothing was broken more than her ego, and after a short break, we were back on the court. I guess I was feeling uber remorseful because I started just lobbing soft balls to her, which she proceed to ram back to me. I mean, she was hobbling from side to side — I didn’t want to be a total bee-yotch and keep dropping ’em short, knowing that she wouldn’t even run for it. It’s called sportsmanship, people.
Despite my generosity, she must have been nursing a vendetta as well as some sore limbs, because she promptly took the remaining games of that set and all but one game of the next. Can you say, “playing possum?”
We finished up the remaining court time just rallying back and forth, which turned out to be a lot more fun once we removed the pressure of winning. Now that all the BS has been put to rest, her pride has recovered, and my own embarrassment has abated, future matches will probably be more enjoyable.
And she tries to floss with some of those scholarship moves? Well let’s just say, even sportsmanship can take a day off.
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IN: ON: March 17, 2010 TAGS: BY: Hilary
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