Vicarious living

© Erin Snell/Thrillist

Is there anything better than watching the people you love finding success? It's definitely one of the perks of coming into your (ahem, MID-) thirties—everyone's finding their thing, that thing they can be experts in, and they've paid their dues and put in the work, and now they're really doing it. It's pretty great when the world starts noticing what you knew all along: your friends are amazing.

Take my friend Snellybean, for example. A couple years ago she moved to Salzburg without a totally concrete plan of what she would do there, because she's brave, and also she is good at lots of things. She's built a full life in the 'burg (seriously, everywhere we went together while I was visiting she ran into half a dozen people she knew), and she recently took on a new business: travel writing! She recently had an article published by Thrillist, and I just had to share it with you.

She spent a weekend shadowing a team of waitresses in the Hofbräu tent at Oktoberfest in Munich. She took all the photos and video herself, sang on the stage of the tent (like you do), and even managed to learn how to carry TEN liters of beer at once. And, I should add, the whole thing was completely her idea to do it, and when she pitched it to Thrillist it was immediately accepted. So cool. She shared a few of her photos with me.

© Erin Snell/Thrillist

© Erin Snell/Thrillist

© Erin Snell/Thrillist

© Erin Snell/Thrillist

Do reading the article and seeing the pictures make you want to go to Oktoberfest? I have to admit, even though it's on the Bossy List, hearing all about it made me wonder whether I would actually enjoy myself. Being a person who doesn't like crowds, or super drunk people, or crowds of super drunk people, potentially looking at pictures is the closest I should come? What do you think?

© Erin Snell/Thrillist

Big thanks to the lovely Snellybean!

Tchin tchin

I went to a fabulous dinner party thrown by a friend on Saturday night. The food was completely amazing (all FIVE courses of it), and the conversation was stimulating. It was a lively mix of opera folks and civilians, all of us naturally chatty.

Here was my favorite part of the night. At every dinner party he hosts, my friend pours champagne before dessert, and everyone is required to give a toast. It sounds slightly terrifying, I know, but I loved it. First of all, right before dessert is late enough in the evening that everyone has gotten to know each other (and had a fair amount of wine). Plus, there's something special about going around the table and letting each person have a moment to speak. I'll remember the toasts we made that night for a long time. Also the chocolate cake with salted caramel filling.

I'm thinking about adopting a tradition for our dinner parties. What should it be? Usually I just hope the food will turn out okay. Do you do anything special at dinner parties to commemorate the evening?

Party strawberries

Yesterday I went to a great housewarming party thrown by My Gay Husband and My Gay Husband's Boyfriend. They recently moved into a place in Midtown, right in the middle of everything. They're on the 12th floor with lots of windows, so their views are gorgeous (including directly into the windows of the Intercontinental Hotel—apparently lots of hotel guests don't close their curtains, whoops!). It was one of those fun parties that really bring people together (MGH is like that, too).

There was tons of good food on hand, but everyone was buzzing about one particular snack: cheesecake-stuffed strawberries. Once one person tried them, everyone was trying them, and the hosts had to bring out more platters of them. Obviously when I got home I googled how to make them, and it sounds really easy. I will definitely be making them for the next party we throw.

Photo via Pinterest

You take strawberries, cut off the top, and dig out a little hole in the center. To make the filling, you mix cream cheese with powdered sugar and vanilla to taste (I think I might try using maple syrup instead) and fill the strawberries with a piping bag (or Ziploc bag with a corner cut off in a pinch). As a final (crucial!) step, you dip the tops in graham cracker crumbs. Et voilà! Impress your friends with your fanciness. I've seen it work.

What are your go-to party snacks? Another favorite of mine is caprese on sticks: thread cocktail tomatoes (in fun heirloom colors if you've got 'em), little balls of fresh mozzarella, and a leaf of basil onto sticks. Drizzle with olive oil, balsamic, salt, and pepper and put them in the fridge to marinate a bit until you're ready to serve them. Delicious in the summer! I also always have a platter of sliced English cucumbers and sliced salami (thanks to a tip from the Barefoot Contessa)—the perfect combo.

Mothra is Waiting

My dear friend Kevin, one of the most talented people I know, begins shooting his first film, Mothra is Waiting, this summer. In Kevin's words, it's a "dark comedy of redemption and sequins." Kevin and his collaborators are raising money for the film through Fractured Atlas, an organization that raises money for arts projects. Won't you considering donating to the film? Every little bit counts, and like any charitable donation it is tax-deductible.

You can learn more about the project here, and donate here. Thank you!

Home on the Road: Elise Sandell

Home on the Road is a series in which I interview opera professionals about how they survive their nomadic lives. You can find previous interviews here.

Photo by Johnny Knight

It's my great pleasure to present to you Elise Sandell, stage director, better known in these pages as The New Oregonian. Elise is an incredibly creative, brave director and the person who taught me how to be a good assistant director back when I didn't really know what one did. She is unfailingly positive and sunny, brilliant, and universally loved. It is no surprise that in this interview alone she manages to fit in at least three profound, thought-provoking truths.

Elise has been on the road for nine years straight, and is currently (temporarily) a true homeless nomad, living out of a storage space and suitcases. She has directed and assisted all over the country, and right now she's in the midst of her first international gig, in Florence, Italy (where we were lucky enough to visit her and hear her speaking Italian, which she does frighteningly well).

LMB: Do you have any stuff that you always bring with you when you travel to make your temporary home feel more like a real one? Or any special routines to help you acclimate quickly in a new place?

ES: I like to bring photos of my friends and family and a few treasured knickknacks to make my place more cozy. Sadly, I didn't bring any of these things to Florence, because there wasn't room in the suitcase. I would be lost without my computer. The first thing I like to do when I arrive in a new place is to take a nap, and then go grocery shopping. It always feels much more like home if I know I have cereal and coffee ready for breakfast tomorrow. I really prefer to arrive in a new place around noon, so that I have time to "set up house" and get unpacked in a leisurely manner before I go to bed on the first night. To get to know a new city, I love to get lost in it. One learns much finding one's way back from being lost.


LMB: Since you fly to each job, you're forced to pack light. This is an art I am far from mastering. Any advice from a seasoned traveler?

ES: I used to carry two large suitcases everywhere, and then they started charging for luggage, so I don't do that any more. Here's my system: I have a roll-aboard that is carry-on size. In there go all the shoes, denim, jewelry, books, and anything else heavy that I can think of. Then the lighter clothing can go in the larger checked suitcase. My "personal item" is really a carry-on shoulder bag large enough to fit my laptop, two opera scores, and several books. It's a little bit of a stretch, but no airline has complained yet. (I find that an airline will let you get away with a lot if you ask with a smile on your face.) I always get completely packed, and then force myself to "jettison" five items…I'm fairly skilled at knowing what a 48-pound suitcase feels like.  If it's a longer gig, I usually ship a box as well…I should buy stock in UPS, considering how many hundreds I spend every year in shipping.

I'm also often a bike commuter, and once even brought my bike from home to Houston with me.  I don't recommend traveling with your bike on the airplane; it's so expensive, and then you have to wrestle it along with your luggage.  You'll do much better shipping it through UPS, or, better yet, renting a bike once you arrive.

LMB: You're currently in the midst of your first European gig, working in Florence. How is settling into a temporary home in a foreign country different than what you've experienced before? Are you particularly homesick for any American things or foods?

ES: Settling in here in Florence has felt a little different, for sure. I'm still working hard to be proficient in the language, so even errands like the grocery store and the post office take a little more effort. That said, it's also FUN to get to know a new country and to realize I CAN communicate in another language, even if I'm not always perfect at it. The food is great here in Florence, of course, but I would give anything for a big ol' 20 oz. coffee to take to rehearsal with me. I would probably even buy an American coffee maker, if I could find one. Don't judge. In the meantime, I drink 3 Italian coffees before I show up to rehearsal.


LMB: You first got nicknamed The New Oregonian because you had recently moved to Portland, Oregon, after a long time of having no home base at all. What brought you there, and how has it worked for you as a home base? Is it true you're moving to Chicago soon? What prompted that decision?

ES: Portland, Oregon is an amazing city, and I'm horribly homesick for them, and heartbroken to be moving away. At the time I moved there, I was assisting on two shows a year at Portland Opera, so it looked at the the time like I would get to "work at home" plenty. Additionally, I have many friends in the city, so it was a perfect fit. It works beautifully as a home base when I'm doing shorter engagements. At this time, however, I've taken another full season of work as an assistant at Lyric Opera of Chicago, so I'll be there for many months. I guess you could say I'm making the choice to "settle down" a little bit. I'm 36 years old, and I have never owned a couch, and I would like to own one. I am also hoping not to remain single for the rest of my life, and all the moving around doesn't seem to be helping in that department, either. So I'm moving to Chicago to try living and working in the same place. It's sort of an experiment.


LMB: In order to have the career that you have, you have to be willing to be away from home a lot of the time. What makes it worthwhile for you?

ES: I love making opera. There's VERY little I'd rather be doing. For me, all the traveling is wrapped up with the opera making. (I don't know what this means for my "moving to Chicago" experiment…I guess we'll see.) When the traveling gets tough, I try to remind myself to think of it as an adventure. And when I miss my friends and family, I remind myself to use the resources at hand: phone, e-mail, Skype, and Facebook. The truth is that I'm always far away from someone I love and miss, no matter where I am. I guess I'm lucky to have this many people to love.

LMB: Any other advice you wish someone had given you when you were first starting out? Or advice that you did get that has been helpful to you?

ES: I'm always glad when someone reminds me: "It's not all about you."

Many thanks to Elise! You can find out lots more about her on her website.

It's too cold to throw myself in the Arno, right?

We've been extra busy here making travel plans for the next few months. Unfortunately, that has mostly meant extended harrowing phone calls with customer service representatives as we reschedule flights and attempt to exchange hard-earned frequent flier miles for actual free things. But next week we're taking a trip that hasn't been any hassle at all: one release request filled out by CameraMan, one visit to ÖBB (the Austrian national train service), several ecstatic emails to The New Oregonian, and it's planned!

This weekend we're going to Florence to visit The New Oregonian, who is working there for the first time. We're taking the overnight train on Sunday night, in a 6-berth couchette car, which will look something like this:

I'm pretty sure we have both booked top berths, so that should be awesome. If nothing else, it will be a good time for CM to get over his fear of heights.

We'll get into Florence at approximately 6:30am, just in time to take pretty sunrise pictures while stumbling around looking for espresso. Then we'll spend the day with TNO, who has Mondays free. We'll stay with her that night (we're trying to convince her that she does NOT need to sleep on the couch and give us the bed), and then spend Tuesday exploring on our own before we take another overnight train back to Vienna. This direction, we'll have a more luxurious private 2-bed sleeper car, which should look something like this:

The honeymoon suite it is not, but overnight train travel does have a certain romance about it anyway, am I right?

We've both been to Florence before, but never at this time of year, and never together, so we'll gladly take any and all suggestions of restaurants, museums, and other can't-miss Florentine experiences! We'll be there less than 48 hours—how should we spend our time?

Besides taking ridiculously gorgeous pictures, like this one from TNO:

Can we fast forward to the cake tasting part?

Friends, this weekend was a bit of an emotional roller coaster, and all I have to say is that it's a good thing I don't blog between Friday and Monday, because you would have had to experience the play-by-play, and at least in this case I think it's so much better to wait until I've sorted through it all and can present it to you all tied up with a bow.

The real low point was probably on Saturday afternoon when I updated my Facebook status to read Okay, who wants to plan our wedding? and then immediately commented Not it.

As a caveat, let me just say that (obviously) I am incredibly excited to get married to CameraMan. Not a day goes by that something, be it small or momentous, reminds me that it's the right next step for us—to put it simply, that we're made for each other. The mere idea of standing in front of the people we love most and making promises to each other makes me heart-swellingly giddy. I can even see a glimmer of a time when I will enjoy planning the day itself, when we're down to detaily goodness, like designing our wedding website, or tasting cakes, and shopping for shoes.

First, though, first thing is: THE VENUE. Before we can get to the fun part, we have to make this one crucial decision. And we've just come up against so many stumbling blocks looking for the right place, mainly that we are a) new in town, b) not entirely fluent in the local language, and c) on a bit of a deadline and feeling the pressure of choosing a place before I leave for New York in three weeks. After debating budgets and guest lists, last week we finally decided we could splurge on this perfect spot we had found in August, that seemed like it was beyond our price range, only to find out Friday that it was booked on our date. And a visit on Saturday to a quirky museum space that, in the end, just didn't feel right, left us both discouraged and despondent. Hence the status update.

But the thing about lows is that they can dependably be expected to be followed by highs, and this one was no exception. It started with friends from far away responding with encouraging words on FB. Sunday morning brought more hope with it, as our Vienna friends sat around our living room after brunch brainstorming and offering suggestions. And then last night, after a Skype conversation in which I, shall we say, expressed frustration, Mama Bossy did a little internet research and turned up what might be the absolute perfect location. I don't want to jinx it, of course, because we haven't seen it in person yet, but I am feeling hopeful. Which is a nice change.

The big lesson in this for me, the thing I will take away from the weekend, is that we don't need to this all by ourselves, but we also (probably) don't need to hire someone to do it, either, because we have so many talented, incredible people in our lives. It must be said, the moment I reached out for help, even in a flippant FB way, I started feeling better.

The other lesson is, of course, that we need more Wiener friends who already know this city.

And if we find some, we will lure them over for Sunday brunch, which I've decided is the best time to entertain, especially if you confine the menu to Things Prepared the Night Before so that you can still sleep in. This gorgeous Winter Fruit Salad was a big hit, and I highly recommend it. Also this.

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From the desk of Legs McGee

A few months ago, I crossed #15 off my list: Successfully teach someone to drive a stick shift. I wasn't ready to write about it, though, until I was sure I truly was successful. Thankfully, my friend Legs McGee wrote me a little testimonial so I could safely check this one off.

In her own words:
For most of my adult life I have chosen to associate the word clutch only with women's fashion. Who wouldn't?! Happy images of dancing strapless handbags are infinitely better than their automotive counterpart.  Thinking of clutch in THAT context might lead to words such as stick, shift and the inevitable Transmission...a vocabulary that translates into inadequacy and shortcoming for the solely Automatic driver---aka ME!  It's a weakness I have long suppressed in shame, but I've always known it would eventually rear its ugly head and war would be waged.

As it turns out, the perfect comrade for said battle was found in my pedicure partner, fellow yogini, and tennis trainer: LMB.  Two lessons, approximately 45 minutes each, and I was well on my way to conquering a lingering fear of adulthood.  With supreme patience she guided me through the multi-tasking maze of gas, clutch, and gear shift---graciously refraining from counting the number of panicked stalls that occurred in the process.  (There was one particular left turn across traffic that I'm sure she'll always think on fondly).  Lesson #2 introduced the concept of Reverse, and that school parking lot probably still doesn't know what hit it.  Along with teaching me how to drive, LMB also enabled me to travel through time.  Yes, she's that talented.  For two glorious sessions I was 15 again, and equally ecstatic learning to drive this time around.

THE TEST:  A little over a week after my Driver's Ed course, I arrived in Moscow---the motivation behind my rapid education.  My second day in the city I was given an atlas, the keys to my host's MANUAL Volvo, and well wishes.  That day may have potentially been the longest of my life, but I survived my first manual trip on a freeway, severe traffic jams, and more than 2 hours of commuting with only an occasional stall or two, all courtesy of LMB.  Throughout my month with a Manual I was praising my mentor daily and it is with great pleasure that I now recommend her to you, the Internet populace.  Her List is long, but examine it carefully! LMB just might hold the key to alleviating your automotive anxiety equivalent!

 

So, what do you say, dear readers? I could use a new dose of motivation for my List—maybe we could help each other...

For now, though:

15. Successfully teach someone to drive a stick shift.

On the next episode of Cheaters

My Gay Husband is featured in the latest issue of Martha Stewart Weddings magazine (pgs. 294-5). Apparently he has a new Straight Wife.

Here they are playing croquet together (of course).

And here they are snuggling on a picnic blanket. They look happy, don't they?

I'm fine. Who cares? Whatever. I'm fine.

Puppy love

I'm having cat withdrawal something fierce. Oh, there are the occasional adorable pictures (although whatever happened to Caturday, am I right?) and Skype sightings of the Bossy Cat, but none of it is enough to fill the cat-shaped void in my heart.

So I'm transferring all my love and affection to friends' dogs. Turns out, although I am by no means a "dog person," when the dog is cat-sized or smaller, it'll do in a pinch.

Enter Millie.

Isn't she just the cutest thing you've ever seen (since the Bossy cat, obvs)?!? She is the new puppy of two of my friends, and let me tell you, she is ready for her close-up.

She's lovey, playful, she has the best ears I've seen, and she will sleep on anyone and everyone.

She even dressed up for Halloween, as Suzuki. Her friend Oscar (pictured here with WienerLover) was Cio-Cio San, of course.

 

 

What? We never claimed we weren't opera nerds.

My new favorite song

I've known sort of peripherally for a while that a song exists with my name in it. Usually upon being introduced to me, people make little jokes or Verdi references (because of the opera that shares my name... almost). But every once in a while, someone will sing a little snatch of a song that goes something like "I love Louisa, Louisa, Louisa." Generally the person singing is drunk.

Last night the song got mentioned before the drinking even began. CM and I had a few of his colleagues over for cocktails and snacks after their sitzprobe, and right away the Maestro asked if I had heard this song. CM, intrepid Googler that he is, found it, downloaded it, and had it playing in seconds.

And what a song it is. The part I had heard is not the best part of the song, not even close. There are so many brilliant moments. There's an entire verse about beer, including the amusing (if not entirely grammatically sound) line, "Beer goes very good with beer." There's a hilarious "What's a rhyme for bosom?" moment. There's even a whole verse auf Deutsch.

Ladies and gentlemen, let me share with you my new favorite song. It's called "I Love Louisa," and it just might be the most perfect song ever written. Here's Fred Astaire singing it.

Light, more light

Tonight I went in to the District to visit my good friend MuseumGirl. We've been friends since we lived in neighboring dorm rooms during freshman year of college. Apropos of nothing, she had a totally crazy roommate that year who Stole. Her. Underwear. And wore it. I kid you not. Anyway, now she (my friend, not the insane roommate) is a total bigshot at the Smithsonian, where she has worked her way up from an unpaid internship to being very very important and leading many many things. We ate grilled fish and veggies in her backyard, sipped wine, and talked about all kinds of things: relationships, our jobs, getting older (she recently turned 30, and you already know all about my own existential crisis). I even got to meet the new man in her life.

It was a great night, and not only because I've had so little contact with humans besides CM since we got here. In a business where intense friendships spring up quickly and fade just as fast, reconnecting with people who have known me a long time is refreshing and restorative. It's been 8 years since we graduated college, and it's amazing to see where we've all ended up (at least for now). The Best Friend just finished her dissertation and can now be referred to as Dr. Best Friend. My Gay Husband is living the glamorous NYC life we all dream of (those of us who have watched too much SATC, that is). The Soprano from Wisconsin is singing just about everywhere that matters (she had a 2-year head start on the rest of us, but still). MuseumGirl is kicking a** and taking names at the center of the U.S. museum scene. And me? I'm moving to my favorite city in the world with the love of my life. I'd say we're all doing pretty well.

And that, my friends, is the Lawrence difference.

Mac 'n cheese 'n friendship

I had big plans for tonight. Well, if not big plans exactly, plans. People were invited to our house for another (maybe the last) get-together where we ate, drank, made merry, and gave away car-loads of our stuff. I had bookmarked a fancy mac ’n cheese (my favorite thing) recipe ages ago, a recipe that serves 12(!), and I finally had an opportunity to make it.

This afternoon I went to the grocery store, bought obscene amounts of cheese, went home, and got to work. And the recipe was all it promised to be. A bechamel to die for, smooth, creamy, thickened just the right amount, not a burnt pot bottom in sight. Cups and cups of freshly grated cheddar and gruyère stirred in, with cayenne and nutmeg and ground mustard—I was in heaven. I assembled the whole thing, poured it into the waiting casserole dish, and put it in the refrigerator to sit until the right time.

The guests were due at 7, so at quarter 'til I pre-heated the oven. Except that when I opened the oven to check the thermometer a few minutes later, it hadn't heated AT ALL. We've had multiple problems with our gas oven, resulting in countless calls to the landlord (who keeps insisting it's a brand new oven—yeah, I don't think so), but never this particular issue. CM heroically came into the kitchen to try to fix it, armed with a candle lighter, but nothing was lighting or heating or doing any of the things that ovens are supposed to do. Then he started talking about ordering pizza, while I heroically (but unsuccessfully) staved off tears. Then suddenly, miraculously, the oven started heating up—MAGIC! The thermometer hit 375° and in went the mac 'n cheese. Our friends started arriving, and all was right with the world.

But a couple minutes later when I looked, the temperature had hit 450°. Another problem—the oven was overheating. Out came the casserole dish, I turned the oven off, took a few deep breaths, and started over.

I'm sure you know the end of the story. There was beer to take everyone's mind off the lack of mac. There was good conversation, and loud laughter, and for quite a while the promise of food was enough. And then the oven was the right temperature, and the mac 'n cheese was cooked just right, and the broccoli was steamed, and almost everyone had seconds, and there were brownies for dessert, and the whole night was fun. Of course it was.

Three weeks from today we're leaving Houston and the incredible friends we've made here. I've said it before, and I'm sure you'll hear it again, but I will miss them all so very much. Left to my own devices, I am capable of a complete meltdown when things don't go according to plan. With my friends around me I can laugh it off, make the best of it, go with the flow (sort of). I'm looking forward to our new life, in a new city, on a new continent(!), in a new apartment, with a NEW OVEN.

But this life we're leaving, it's not so bad, you know? It has its moments. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. And (if you didn't already know) everything's better with mac 'n cheese.

Home sweet Houston

I've been back in town for a week, and I am totally feeling the Houston love. Sunday evening we had a few friends over. I baked cookies, CM made blargaritas, and we sent everyone home with bags and crates full of our stuff. It was a great (and productive!) night, and when we closed the door on the last of our guests, I think we both realized at the same time just how much we are going to miss living here.

It took a long time for me to feel at home in Houston. My first year was rough beyond belief, and nothing but the job brought me back for the second. But as the years went by, I have come to truly love this city, and that's mostly because of CameraMan and the incredible circle of friends we have built here. I've been here since 2005; that's the longest I've lived anywhere since I graduated high school. For all intents and purposes, Houston is my home, a home I will be leaving in a little over a month. And although I'll return for the fall, it won't be the same. We will have already made the big move, I'll be back to living in a generic corporate apartment—I think it's going to feel like I'm visiting.

So, in the meantime, we're trying to make the most of the time we have left in Houston, and trying not to get so overwhelmed by our to-do list that we miss out on the good things. We've started a list, dominated of course by all the things we want to eat one more time: fried chicken at The Daily Review, churros at Hugo's, frozen lemonade from Bambolino's, happy hour at T'afia. We're visiting all our favorite H-town haunts: the Zoo (of course), Discovery Green, the Menil, and more. Mostly, though, we're trying to spend as much time with our friends as we can. Meals with colleagues are being organized, impromptu dinner invitations are highly encouraged, and I'm spending lots of quality time with Shelby (she's almost 1, can you believe it!).

After a year like this one, with so much time apart, we're also just reveling in the two of us being in one place. For me, Houston will always be OUR city, even though I lived here for several years before we got together, and he lived here for several more before that. I feel like I discovered the city for the first time with him, and when we move away we'll be leaving behind part of the history of us. Luckily, if "home is where the storage unit is," then Houston will be our home for a while longer.

Besides all the fun stuff, there are practical perks to finally being home together. We've been talking about taking new head shots of me for months now, and we finally made the time to actually go out and do it. I generally hate having my picture taken, because for every decent shot there are dozens of me looking awkward, bug-eyed, or just plain ugly. Thank goodness for my incredible CameraMan, who finds the best light, keeps up the encouraging pep talk, and knows all the ins and outs of photo editing. I'm so happy with the pictures we ended up with, are you?

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My summer roomie PiGuy is a world-famous karaoke singer, so when he invited me to sing a duet with him at the last Karaoke Night of the summer, how could I turn him down? I couldn't, as it turned out. "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge, if you're wondering.






We had a bit of an LU reunion at Glimglam during Performance #11. From left to right, we have Yum-Yum, Maestra Koestner, Nanki-Poo, and another Yum-Yum from The Mikado circa 2002. Oh, the memories.






All packed to go home—nothing left in the closet except my outfit for the closing performance.

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Screen doors are incredibly enticing to the Bossy Cat, what with all the bugs and animals just inches away yet untouchable.





Princess J and I put on pretty dresses and went to Alex & Ika's for one last dinner. We even splurged on the 15-minute dessert.





LMHC and beautiful Shelby met up with me in Dickson City, PA, halfway between our two houses. We had lunch, shared lots of girl talk, and listened to Shelby doing her latest thing, squawking like a duck.

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It's amazing what a difference 12 weeks makes. Isn't she beautiful?





I would like to present to you the perfect carry-on suitcase. Roomier than it looks, expandable, full of pockets exactly where you want them, 4 smart wheels, and cuter than a suitcase has any right to be.





Oops, I did it again. It's getting hard to find subjects for photos up here in the great North. It's clearly time to go home. Thank goodness CameraMan came to town to take my failure portrait.

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It was 1 AM when I got the call that LMHC was on her way to the hospital. 9 hours later, beautiful Shelby Elizabeth was born, and 6 hours after that I watched as LMHC got to hold her for the first time. It was an incredible, emotional, life-changing day.

Shelby Elizabeth

She's not a Myrtle anymore!

Waiting for Myrtle

I'm not sure exactly when we started referring to Little Ms. Hardcore's unborn baby as Myrtle. I was calling LMHC "Fertile Myrtle" for a while, and then when she found out she was having a girl, the name Myrtle just kind of stuck. Before that we were calling it the Gummi Bear, because that's what it most resembled in the ultrasound, and Myrtle is a better alternative, no?

Now that I'm off contract, waiting for Myrtle has become my full time job. ("Funny," LMHC said to me, "mine too"). Her official due date is May 17, but last Tuesday her doctor said she would come within the week. Clearly, her doctor was wrong. But we've all been preparing. LMHC packed her bag for the hospital, and Mama and Papa Hardcore drove from Denver to be with her. I contributed by starting a dollar pool at work to bet on when Myrtle would come into the world, and by freaking out every time the phone rings. Also, I bookmarked the hospital in my Maps iPhone app.

I've never had a close friend who had a baby before. I've never been at a birth, or held a newborn, or fainted from sympathy pains. So this whole experience will be very new to me, and I could not be more excited or impatient.

Come on, Myrtle! We want to meet you!