Helloooo? Anybody out there.

I've been on vacation from blogging. Not an actual vacation, but since my man has commanded the full attention of my Mac, all I have is this horrible Dell that might as well be the Devil. Let's just summarize by saying I have ZERO desire to open it up and use it after 7pm.

But alas, I am on the road, left coasting, which would be cool if I had the energy to do more than order room service and watch a movie. Which is precisely what is on the agenda the evening (plus wine). But first, a little catching up with my passion.

All day every day I think of anecdotes, observations and other general crap to write about, but the act of actually opening up the computer and putting it on (digital) paper doesn't happen. During the day, it's called my job. At night, it's called the computer is associated with the job therefore we do not spend more time together. I need a little computer-notepad-jotty thing that I can quickly type out a post on and feel the release.

And it's a shame these thoughts in my head don't make it out in the open, because I am a professional observationist and there is a whole lot out there to be observing. I've been living in the moment. Something I am slowly, painfully teaching myself to do. This is the alternative to planning every event of your future and then gulping spoonfuls of disappointment when it doesn't go the way you imagined.

When you live in the moment, you have much more appreciation for life in general, even the things that suck (if that's possible). "Easy going" is not a term frequently used to describe yours truly, I assure you, but I am trying it out and guess what? I love it.

Yes, my mind is still light years ahead of the present, but I've learned to tell it to shut up and focus on what's happening this minute. Life can be really entertaining if you stop, look and listen.

For example....yes, I had to get up early, sit on plane I was certain would crash for four hours and then work a full day once I landed. But, NOW, this moment, I am enjoying writing, and excited about watching a movie and blissfully passing out by myself for twelve glorious hours of slumber in my hotel room paid for by the company.

I am not thinking about the meeting that promises to be difficult tomorrow, or the long flight home...just the beauty of this evening's enjoyment.

And I'm happy. There's a lesson in here somewhere.

Sister Courtney

Catholic, I am. Practicing, I am not. Until recently that is. My sister is pregnant, and naturally I am the godmother of my unborn niece. A requirement of this duty, beyond being an active part of the child's life and giving her lots of money for college, is that I obtain a letter from my parish stating that I am in fact a practicing Catholic.

Great. Admittedly I looked for loophole, a way to work around this. I found none. But it was more my guilty conscience (told you I was Catholic) preventing me from succeeding than anything else. So I did what I was supposed to--I went to church.

My boyfriend was kind enough to go with me, because, yes, I was afraid. Very afraid. When we arrived, I sat in the back of the church.  However, being the naturally curious and engaged man that he is, he wanted to sit up front - like 5 pews from the altar. "As long we're doing this, let's do it right" is what he said.

Right? I was doing it right, according to my family church practices. This is what my father would do when we were kids so we could escape after communion and"beat the crowd". I think he was just fearful for his unholy self in the presence of Catholic Angry God for too long.

So we did. And I was terrified. Not an exaggeration. I think I actually cried a little. I felt the eyes of Jesus on the Cross boring into me, judging, for having been a bad Catholic. I felt the eyes of the Parishioner's behind me drilling holes in the back of my head. Naturally they knew I hadn't been to mass since Reagan was President.  But most of all I felt scared to death that I wouldn't remember the Catholic dance -- sit, stand, kneel -- and there were not enough people in front of me that I could follow to fake it.

Then mass started. Like riding a bike, immediately I knew the responses, the  words, the motions, the feeling. Then I actually started to like it. Yes, I did. Church can be comforting when going of one's free will and not forced because you're seven or it's some major holiday (that miserable girl was in the pew across from me with her 12 siblings because he parents don't believe in birth control).

I mean, what's better than being forgiven of all of your sins in the first ten minutes of a mass, just like that? We Catholics do it right. I started to relax, participate, and appreciate it. Until I had to take communion, that was my last hurdle. I literally shook as I walked up the aisle because again, Father was going to know. I  stood strong, looked him right in the eye, took my stale, blessed bread, and exhaled. But there was no way I was drinking out of the community cup--H1N1 you know.

I never thought going to mass would be so traumatic for me. I surely never thought I would, all in all, enjoy it. In the end, I felt great about doing it--for myself and my niece--and I know I will go again and not just because it's a requirement.

Imagine that. God works in Mysterious Ways (not Bono, although he thinks he's God).

Recessionista

Did you know we are in a recession? You wouldn't based on the level activity in shopping malls and restaurants, despite being all over the news. Why is that? Because for those it isn't directly affecting right now, there has been no change in habit, and the affected is a much smaller population for people like you me than the spared. Generalization, I know.

The point is, if you are one of those people who hasn't made some modification to your lifestyle, this girl recommends you do. The party is far from over, because we haven't even started losing our cookies in the bushes or hooking up with people we'll regret in the morning. No, I'm not a doomsday'er (is that even a word?) but I do believe in a little preparedness to make what could be rough times not so much.

I didn't take drastic measures. I just: started drinking $10 bottles of wine because there will always have to be a budget for this and I don't know the difference after two glasses anyway.

I did it because, well, it's the right thing to do (and yes, there is more than the wine). Beyond putting myself in a good spot should things get progressively worse (I am in advertising, recruitment, think about it), I'm contributing to the righting of America where it's not about the house you live in or the name on your bag, but about the experiences in your life. Contentedness versus greed.

Cheap is the new chic.