The Dairy Queen

First, I'm sorry I haven't posted on The Bach. I have a mental block against it - I have something like four episodes to watch, and it seems like it requires an overwhelming amount of time. I've been trying to avoid any news about the final outcome - but I'm fairly certain I know the deal. I promise to have my thoughts posted soon.

In the meantime, I have some thoughts on another topic. I'm confident this is too much information to be sharing in a public forum, but that has not stopped me before, so here I go again...

As I mentioned in an earlier post, one of my sole past times these days is feeding the ravenous little child now living in my home. He eats constantly. Naturally, I'm trying to fulfill the essential requirement for my emancipation: a freezer full of breast milk. Enter my new best friend/worst enemy: the Medela Pump In Style.

Immediately after my first interaction with this awe inspiring contraption, I had two thoughts:
1. There is absolutely nothing stylish about any part of this "In Style" experience.
2. This machine was most definitely invented by a man.

After milking myself a few more times, I was compelled to explore the roots of this C-R-A-Z-Y device. It didn't take long to find the information I was looking for, and my suspicions were confirmed. I kid you not, the breast pump was invented by Edward Lasker: a man who lived to be 95 years old yet was only married once for a few months before his wife died of a "surgeon's error." He never had kids. He made his living as a mechanical and electrical engineer. Perfect. I'm quite sure if I spent more time I would discover that he had an unusually close relationship with his overbearing mother and later in life was known to display misogynistic tendencies whenever he was not locked in his dungeon-like basement.

If you saw this machine, you would believe as I do, that no innovations have been realized since Lasker's original 1927 model.

Edward Lasker (does he seem like he knows anything about breasts?)

Updated picture of me

My life as the mother of a genius...

Sorry I haven't been blogging. I'm still here. I've been having trouble thinking of anything to write that doesn't have to do with Brendan. I don't wish to be one of those women that has a baby and suddenly can't think of any other topic of conversation. But he's only 3 weeks old, so my life has been pretty consumed with keeping him 1. contently fed and 2. not sitting in poop (note: these goals are diametrically opposed). I don't have a lot of other input these days.

We did have a big outing on Wednesday. Second visit to the pediatrician. I was thrilled to learn I am the mother of an extremely advanced child. Terry called, and I relayed the news:

"Our son is a genius. He has already reached several one month milestones."
"You mean in terms of amount of sh*%t?"
"No, like he will meet a gaze and hold it."
"Meeting gays is a milestone?"

This kid is a riot and he keeps us laughing all day long. But parenting a newborn hasn't been without sacrifice. Last week we ventured to the Upper West Side to run a few errands. Skirting up against a feeding time, Terry stayed with Brendan in our double parked car as I ran into the Sephora on Broadway and 76th Street. Knowing I was playing a dangerous game of chicken, I wasted no time in asking the first sales person I saw, "Where is your Chanel counter?" "We don't have one here, but there is one in the Sephora two blocks down." Sensing that Brendan was probably famished and screaming bloody murder by then, I knew there was no time to travel even that insignificant distance. As I grabbed a Dior liner and mascara, I longed for a slightly more predictable schedule. I know moms are required to give up a lot. But a life without Chanel? I mean, I love my kid, but come on...

Speaking of sacrifices, I've had no time to write about The Bachelor. I promise to catch up soon and get my priorities back in the right place.

Ok, ok! Since you twisted my arm, I'll include a couple of pictures in the meantime:

Air guitar

Post first bath (he has no idea how ridiculous he looks)

Guest Post: A Papa Terry Update

Dear FOJ (Friends/Fans of Joan):

Just a quick update to tell you that Joan has not abandoned her bully, often ridiculous pulpit. She's just a little busy right now with our new little roommate, whom she has affectionately nicknamed "Ravenous Razormouth". I've never been so glad to be male....

We brought Brendan home last Thursday after 4 days in the hospital. He was a city kid from the start; his first experience of the outside world was the noisy riot of traffic-choked 165th and Broadway, and he slept peacefully throughout!

Like all newborns (so I'm told, anyway - what do I know?), Brendan is little bundle of pure id - all needs and appetite - and every day brings entirely new experiences for both him and his parents.

Anyway, here's a couple of our favorite new pictures. Joan and I have promised ourselves and everyone we know that we would not get all obsessive and unrealistic about our kid, but it's difficult to avoid when your baby is the best-looking, smartest child ever born.

Last, thanks to all for the flood of congratulations and love that have accompanied Brendan's birth. Everybody loves a new baby, and it is one of the greatest pleasures of our lives thus far to be recipients of such an outpouring of joy.

TGV

PS: Bachelor fans - stay tuned!

Guest Post from Terry - Arrival of The Latest Voltz!

Hello family and friends:

Very exciting news - Joan and I have welcomed a new addition to our family!

For those who have not heard (and you are many, because I switched from making phone calls to changing diapers at about noon yesterday), Joan gave birth to a healthy baby boy of 7 lbs., 2 oz. on Monday, April 14, 2008 at 9:03 AM at New York Presbyterian's Morgan Stanley Childrens Hospital in Manhattan. Mother and baby are doing well.

We have named our son Brendan Francis Voltz.

Brendan was chosen as a nod to the Irish heritage that Joan and I share, but mostly because it is the name of my brother-in-law, Brendan Traynor, as fine an uncle as any child could hope to have (we're pretty sure he's already bought the kid his first set of golf clubs). Francis was my Dad's name, as well as the middle name of Joan's late father Bud, and we're certain the two of them must be clinking glasses somewhere over this one (a cold Schlitz for Frank and a Beefeater on the rocks for Bud).

Here are a couple of pictures of little Brendan on his first day. Two things are certain; the kid's got HAIR, and he is unmistakably a Voltz. (Joan's quote of the day: "Oh, my God, I've given birth to a miniature version of your father!").

Thanks to all for your support and friendship, and we hope to see you all soon. And apologies in advance to anyone we might have missed

Terry, Joan, and Brendan Voltz
xxxxooo

PS: Voltz/Velsor/Winslow cousins - please forward this link to your siblings and parents!

They're real, and they're spectacular

This has been a busy week. Full of unexpected doctor's appointments and unpacking kitchen stuff. They finished the renovation on Tuesday morning (three days early) and sent a cleaning crew in on Tuesday afternoon. By the time I got home on Tuesday night, this place had been cleaned within an inch of its life. They cleaned the entire first floor of my apartment - including the bathroom. I was blown away. For anyone doing a kitchen or bathroom reno in the New York Metro area - I highly recommend MyHome Renovation. (Contact me if you reach out - I'll give you details on our designer and project manager, etc.) By the way - I'll get pictures up soon. Our designer is going to take some in a week or two - so I'll post his.

Now that all that drama is done (I realize this is a hilarious statement to make given the fact that I am giving birth tomorrow morning), it's time to get down to business and get out my thoughts on last week's Bach.

During the opener, Chris informs us that there will be a group date, a special one-on-one date and a two-on-one date. Just that fact that this show has an official event called the "two-on-one date" is enough to hold Terence's attention.

The group date will feature tennis and tea. Robin informs us that it's traditional at "WimbelTon" to have high tea, so this is something that's very important to Matt. 10 seconds later, Matt tells us they're going to have afternoon tea as he throws his head back and says this just cracks him up.

Later, perhaps afraid her tennis ability won't be considered up to par, Shayne finds a patch of grass and shows off her athletic prowess with some gymnastics maneuvers. Matt is obviously impressed, and it does seem appealingly contradictory to her primadonna disposition.

Robin shows a laughable lack of understanding of the premise of the show as she snottily comments on Shayne's display: "I wouldn't go off and do gymnastics. That just seems like a scream for attention to me."

Matt asks Ashlee to take a walk for some one-on-one time. As I'm trying to figure out why she's wearing black knee highs and a parka with her tennis whites, we see some of her behind the scenes commentary. She tells us she was happy about getting this first one-on-one time because "I don't like sloppy seconds". Perhaps you shouldn't go on a show where you share a guy with 24 other women. I'm just saying...

All of a sudden I notice that Ashlee can't stop giggling and it makes her sound like the Road Runner. And then she starts singing again. Oh, PLEASE stop with the singing. There is only so much mortification I can take.

Over tea, Robin tries to act like she might be British. And then Shayne imitates Robin imitating a Brit. I have completely converted on Shayne. I LOVE her.

Again, Robin demonstrates she doesn't understand the construct of this program when she cries upon learning that she may have hurt the other girls by disrespecting them.

Time for Amanda's one-on-one date. Afraid that up until now she may have given an impression that she's boring, she decides she's going to vamp it up for her 1955 All American style date. After applying some extra volumizing hair spray and fuchsia lip gloss, she seeks approval from the other girls who assure her she looks like a raging slut. Not to mention whore. A vixen with the meeps.

Matt's Fonz impression? Adorable. Amanda's transformation? Matt's got chills. They're multiplyin.

Amanda is adorable and flirty on the date. She tells Matt she could tell right off that he had a geeky side. Matt finds her charming. She will go far.

We go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong ...

Meanwhile, as she prepares for the cooking session two-on-one date, Marshana provides a dramatic speech that shows us she is a woman on the edge. She tries to give us insight to the unfathomable amount of stress she's under as the obvious underdog. She assures us she is diggin deep. She's been trying to keep it together. But she can't quite manage it, and the next thing we know, she takes it out on an innocent whisk.

By the time Marshana and Holly leave in the limmo, Marshana has been reduced to a whiney, mopey mess of a puddle. Completely incongruous to the vibe she's giving out, she's donning a giant chef hat at a jaunty angle. Terence drops what I would normally consider to be a groaner of a pun, "That girl is one toque over the line." Maybe it's the hormones, but I thought that was hilarious.

Holly obviously agrees with Marshana's assessment that Holly is the predetermined winner, and states her strategy with all the sunshiny glibness you'd expect from a children's book author, "I'm just going to be me!"

Inexplicably given the cooking theme of the date, all of a sudden Matt and Holly are on a giant bed. Matt is trying to tell her he might be too intellectual for her. He delicately probes on the issue by using the word "boring" instead of smart and says he likes to know what's going on in the Middle East not to mention the financial markets in Brazil. Is she ok with that? In true demonstration of the very problem Matt is trying to get at, Holly says, "Oh yes. I'm boring too. Like sometimes I just like to watch movies. " Seeing she doesn't get it, he tries again by telling her he loves challenging questions. Does she have any for him? Crickets chirping. Her brow furrows and I can see the wheels turning as she tries to decide which of the brain twisters from her SAT prep book best highlights her fun-loving side. "Ok. I have one. Train A leaves Boston at 2:00...."

Despite all this, I must say, I was truly shocked when he gives the rose to Marshana. Truly. While I'm on the Marshana Mystery, can I ask a question? Perhaps I missed a crucial piece of information imparted on the first episode, but why does she keep adorning herself in Indian jewels? And was that a Sari? She is African American. And from Brooklyn. WTF!? Please comment if you can explain this...

On to pre-rose ceremony cocktails. Matt presses Ashlee on whether she believes there is more to their relationship than good looks and music. She immediately peels out a few seconds of her road runner giggle and tells him they should spend a day together to find out. I'm not sure her statement had the reassuring quality Matt was looking for.

Ashlee is not the only girl causing Matt to harbor doubts. As he starts to grill Kelly about her intentions, she quickly senses things are going bad. Her face transforms into an unmistakable may-day, may-day expression when all of a sudden, out of NOWHERE she pulls open her dress to flash her boobs and declares,"Those are very nice. I have very large breasts". I had to rewind and re-watch this scene about five times before I was able to absorb how crazy it was. Terence was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, but this was also the moment he became a huge Kelly fan.

Confronted with the fact that this girl is a drunken mess, Matt doesn't even know what to do. Kelly sums it up best when she slurs with disgust, "Come on. Try and meet another girl like me. Whatever. You won't." I'm sure Matt is thinking, "Yes. One would have to go to a rehab clinic if you wanted to meet another girl like Kelly." Terry's comment, "Kelly is the Amy Winehouse of The Bachelor."

The rose ceremony was "somber," but Kelly's inevitable exit provides one last burst of entertainment as she states, "I would be dating me if I was a dude." She stumbles off to connect with her dealer. Ashley is devastated to not get a rose. But then, through the tears, a ray of hope in the form of song. Thank God she's gone.

Scenes from the next promise "the most shocking confrontation in Bachelor history." I can not wait. One caveat: given that I will be in the hospital for most of the coming week, I have to apologize now for my late posting of tomorrow's episode. I'll get the recap up as soon as I can.

Terence promises to post pictures of Baby Voltz before then. See you all soon...

5 Things

Something thrilling happened last week that made me feel like a real blogger. I was tagged by another favorite blogger over at relaxed alert for a five things meme. This is not something I had ever heard of before, but I now feel legitimized somehow thanks to b. Be sure to check out her blog.

First, the rules:
1. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
2. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment letting them know they've been tagged and to ask them to play along and to read your blog.

What I was doing 10 years ago - 1998
1. Working with a great bunch of folks on the Compaq business and flying back and forth to Houston twice a week. I have still not used all those frequent flyer miles, but I am still friends with many of those colleagues.
2. Looking forward to what would turn out to be my last summer share in Sag Harbor - one of my favorite Hamptons towns. The next year we would have to switch houses (to Bridgehampton) because our regular summer headquarters would get sold to Spalding Gray.
3. Enjoying my first year in my own roommate free apartment. Loved all my roommates, by the way, but felt very grownup to have my own one-bedroom on the Upper West Side.
4. Finally starting to admit that Terry was more than "this guy that I've been dating"
5. Working too much, but enjoying life.

Five things on my to-do list today
1. Clarify who's covering my accounts while I'm on maternity leave
2. Watch The Bachelor
3. Write thank you notes
4. Confirm that my cleaning lady can resume the regular schedule on Friday now that my renovation is nearly done!!!!!! (pix up soon)
5. Start putting my apartment back in order

Snacks I enjoy
1. Cheddar cheese
2. Gruyere cheese
3. Brie cheese
4. Fresh mozzarella cheese
5. Smoked gouda cheese

Things I would do if I were a billionaire
1. Live in a classic six on Central Park West or a loft in Tribeca. Either way - I would have ample terrace space with an outdoor grill and a kick a#$ walk in closet.
2. Have a house in Montauk or Amagansset with a heli pad. Can't take the traffic on route 27.
3. Travel extensively
4. Hire a driver and a personal assistant
5. Dedicate more time to my family's charity (The Bud Traynor Memorial Fund)

Five of my bad habits
1. I am usually very efficient, but sometimes I can be a terrible procrastinator (as I've written before, I still haven't ordered wedding pictures. I've been married for almost 9 years)
2. I am extremely OCD about keeping the apartment neat. I drive my husband crazy and I'm not so sure I'll be able to survive parenthood without therapy.
3. I don't cook
4. I am terrible at returning phone calls. Hate talking on the phone.
5. I watch the crappiest tv ever made (I've got this one in common with b)

Five places I have lived
1. Port Washington, NY
2. Bethlehem, PA
3. Upper East Side, NYC (East End Ave)
4. Upper West Side, NYC (W 95th St and W 75th St)
5. Washington Heights, NYC


Five jobs I've had
1. Bakery counter girl (people used to come in with their own platters and buy things they were going to pass off as home made)
2. Hostess in a Middleeastern restaurant
3. Gymnastics coach
4. Sales girl at Victoria's Secret (most fun job ever. I could tell you stories for an hour straight.)
5. Various jobs in Advertising for the past 15 years





I tag Andrea, John and Carmen [Carmen - this will force you to write a post ;)]

Why can't we all just get along...

The Bachelor was exactly what I needed at the end of yesterday. I spent most of the day in the hospital hooked up to fetal monitors. Nothing is wrong - they were trying to get my (apparently breech) kid to flip around. Nothin' doin. So I came home just as I went in, with an upside down kid in my belly. Terry and I have taken to singing hits from the 80s to my navel in the vain hope that we may coax this child into challenging gravity. "Turn Around Bright Eyes" and "You Spin Me Right Round" have never held such meaning. With the now almost unavoidable prospect of another surgery in front of me sometime in the next two weeks, I needed some mindless entertainment.

Just as I was contemplating whether there could be anything more mindless than Shayne, there she was on my TV screen in yet another crazy get-up. She and her Agent undoubtedly felt a feathered fedora paired with a soccer team style jacket telegraphed her perfection for some role or genre - but I can not figure out what that might be. Terry thought maybe the next Josie and the Pussycats sequel.

(Aside: I've gotten Terry into the Bach. He tries to act like it's my thing - but I think even he would admit he thinks it's hilarious too. It doesn't hurt that the girls are much trashier this season. I don't think ABC will need to throw NFL appearances into the mix to hold the guys' attention...)

So Holly gets a one on one date. ABC stages a red carpet event, and while I fully expect Holly to find the charade thrilling and romantic, I can't believe snarky Matt keeps a straight face throughout the whole thing. He somehow manages to not be sarcastic while being "interviewed" by the "entertainment reporters" and they pose for a pathetic showing of "paps" - who were actually unemployed actors hired off of Craig's list and paid 20 bucks each to hang around and take pictures of these people as though they were famous. I was so wishing Shayne had gotten this one-one-one date. There is no way she could have gone along with this.

Matt tries to be serious while Holly looks on with Stars in her eyes.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, everyone is having a girls night in when the next date box arrives. Marshana goes outside to pick it up and my early suspicions of her as psycho are confirmed. Her loungin' with the girls attire includes four inch heels, a dress so short there is no way she can do anything but stand with her knees pinned together and some kind of Indian Princess headdress thing. I believe the word is bejeweled.

Shayne is now demonstrating the "I can be a sweet, thoughtful girl wearing a floral print with my loose, softly windswept romantic hair. Perhaps the love interest of a character played by Owen Wilson or Keanu Reaves" look.

Time for some drama, so ABC arranges a ding-dong-ditch drop off from Mann's Theater. It's a celebrity style cement plaque from the red carpet date. It says Matt hearts Holly - which is so seventh grade and the girls oblige by flipping out junior high style.

How do I know Matt thought the Hollywood style date was as ridiculous as I did? He describes the highlight as being in a hot tub with a hot girl. I just love our randy-dandy.

On to the rugby date - which had absolutely nothing to do with rugby from what I could tell. It was more like a "Girls Gone Wild" video, British edition. Matt watches the girls literally wrestling in the mud and calls a spade a spade when he says, "People would pay money for this." (In fact, our Gov did, but I digress).

Back home, Shayne confides in Holly that she's freaking out about her upcoming one-on-one date and to alleviate the stress, she thinks she needs to tan. Little Holly "I'm all goodness and light with my children's book writing career" reveals that she brought a spray tanner. I don't mean the bottle you buy at the Clarins counter. I mean a power operated salon style airbrush tanner with backup generator. How did she get that on the plane? Continuing the "Girls Gone Wild" video theme, Shayne strips down and lets Holly spray her down. This is a remarkable leap of faith. Shayne, you are competing with this girl. It wouldn't take but a slight of the hand and you are an unflattering shade of orange. (Of course, she and her Agent could turn that into an opportunity, I'm sure)

Meanwhile, back on the rugby field, Marshana (who is looking more and more mannish to me, I'm sorry) is the winner of the "dramatic injury of the season" spot. Girls before her have pulled this off with much more panache, and she really comes away with nothing more than a fat lip. (Bevin got a watch and a spot in the final two out of that sprained ankle. I'm just saying.)

Matt and Kelly go into the locker room to see the trainer. Massages all around. Kelly hops up on Matt and takes over. God bless the ABC editors, they cue the porn music for this little interlude. Well played, Kelly. There's no way our horn-dog is sending you home after that maneuver.

Awkward moment of the night was at the post massage party while Amanda was trying to have some quality alone time with Matt. They talk about what kind of music they like. Good God. As though this self-conscious attempt at small talk wasn't awkward enough, Noelle and Christine mope over and just sit there. Everyone acts like they're at high noon tea. "How are you?" "We're fine, thank you. How are you?" "Very well, thank you."

Robin gets the rose, and the reactions shine a light on how banged up some of these girls are. Chelsea graciously points out, "I don't think Robin deserved the rose at all! I also wish that I got it and think that I should have gotten it because I deserved it!" All said with a threatening you're-going-down-style finger pointing that suggested she'll get the guys who unload the trucks at the Dairy Queen she works at to mess Robin up.

Kelly is even more banged up than Chelsea. She slurs out the comment of the evening: "Robin? I don't think that I would ever, in a million years - if I was a dude - want to date her. Never! Robin should go home and I should be here until the end, and I will. I think I should be number ONE!"

Terence: "This woman should be playing a heroin addict on a Law & Order episode."

On to the one-on-one Shayne date. First of all, it should be noted that Holly did an exceptional job with the tanner. And I loved watching Shayne stumble down the stone path in those ridiculous boots. But I'll admit, she's starting to grow on me. And then she drops the bomb. Her dad is Lorenzo Lamas. Holy cow. I did NOT see that coming. This explains everything. She tells Matt that her dad is well-known in America. Except that he's not. Unless it's 1983.

Matt explains he's concerned because she's only 22 and an actress. This may be true, but Shayne actually goes up in my book when she admits with no holds barred that she's high-maintenance. Gotta respect that she knows it and doesn't apologize. Matt recognizes it for what it is too and is hilarious when he says, "Sometimes I think this girl is a sandwich short of a picnic, and sometimes I think she's the greatest thing since sliced bread."

Back at the house, the Robin violent mania-thon meep fest was hilarious. I can't describe that one for you non-viewers, you just had to see it.

All of a sudden it's time for the pre-rose ceremony cocktail party and there is some chick named Kristine talking about the mood in the house. Who is this girl? I swear I have never seen her before. That is how I know she is going home tonight.

Chelsea's cleavage prompts Matt to tell her she rocks. The Dairy Queen Diva is going nowhere.

Speed talker Robin throws down some more violence. She points out that it's a race. She's going to do what it takes to win. It can't be a tie between two girls. Marriage doesn't work that way (although something tells me Matt would be up for that).

The rose ceremony begins.

Matt gives Amanda the first rose so he doesn't have to listen to her meeps.

The camera pans to Kristine and she has an "Oh crap, I'm going home" look on her face. Yes, honey. You're going home. Sorry. Take Amy and Erin with you.

Terry was psyched that Amy the nanny didn't get a rose because that means she's got free time now. He's already contacted her regarding the Baby Voltz job. No references required.

And finally, she's been wearing me down and wearing me down, and it became official once I saw that shoe collection after the credits. I love Shayne. We don't have the same style, but I love the fashionista in her. Did you see her in "scenes from the next" in those ridiculously huge sunglasses while everyone else is trying to look natural and outdoorsy? Love it. Matt is not serious about her, but she's good fun, and I hope he'll keep her around. At least until the hometown date so we can see him meet daddy. Lorenzo Lamas on The Bachelor? Pure entertainment...

British Invasion

Sorry to not have this up sooner. It's been an eventful week. But the next Bach is imminent, so time for me to get the lead out!!

As I've lamented, I missed the premier of The Bachelor due to some renovation-induced chaos. So I'm a bit behind the curve and may not have all the information necessary to identify the crazies yet. Luckily, when it comes to Bach contenders, in most cases it doesn't take more than a brief first impression.

First of all, let me say right off the bat: I like Matt. Admittedly it's probably the accent. It's hard to sound cheesy when you're a Brit. But I sensed an appealingly snarky sense of humor when the recap from the week before shows Matt holding up a pair of underwear previously slipped his way as he says, "I don't care what country you're from, that is not cool." I further see his flippant comments are going to provide ongoing entertainment when he says with a wink, "It's the first time I've been to a fashion show, and it's the first time I've dated 8 women at one time." Matt, you dog. (So much more refreshing than insincere romanticism.)

I don't have much to say about the fashion show except that Holly should have skipped the moonwalk. It's hard to be sexy in stocking feet.

Michelle P kicked off what would soon turn out to be an evening of song with a cabaret-style ditty. Complete with exaggerated, self-aware, show-tune type facial expression. All of a sudden she looks like Jack MacFarland doing his best Brit-Brit impression, and I'm mortified.

Again, having missed the first episode, I was feeling behind the curve, but my first impression of Robin, the Advertising Coordinator, was that I was going to love hating her. First of all, I'm sure her career is skyrocketing from Holland, Michigan - the advertising capital of the world (I know I'm being snobby, but that's what watching The Bachelor is about). Second of all, she pulled one of those click, click sound effect maneuvers with her mouth and combo swivel head tilt that told me she needs help (I can't think of a better description of this mannerism - but I feel like I've seen it mocked on an SNL skit. Does anyone know what I'm talking about? It's driving me crazy that I can't remember this character)...

Ashlee is a wing nut. and I love how she dances around right in front of everyone literally drowning out Matt's speech about how it's too bad he can only give one rose. I see it's taking every ounce of her strength not to start chanting "nanny nanny nah-nah!".

Moving on to the casino date, several of the ladies prove that an IQ test was not part of the entrance requirement as they butcher the English language. Kelly comments, "There is other girls here who want to get to know him," while Shayne points out, "You have 20 other girls eyeing for your attention.".

Speaking of Shayne, I'm so happy to see that Matt has no time for her drama as he slaps her with, "Everyone else is putting up with [the awkwardness of being one of 20 girls dating me], and you're the only one with the issue." Shayne - he's a Brit! They don't find temper tantrums cute. Take it down a notch, girl...

Chelsea may have ended up with the rose, but I sense this may be nothing more than a fleeting, curious dalliance with American trash for our randy Brit. Chelsea's dress looked like a cross between what a cocktail waitress would wear at the Bada Bing and a figure skating costume from the 80s. Already looking like someone who knows how to work the register at the Dairy Queen, she then completes the picture with this classic phrase, "I do great things, but it's hard to share them with nobody but yourself." Indeed.

Some additional (shallow) comments/observations:

• I love Erin S simply becuase she's a hot dog vendor.
• Shayne's hair at the cocktail party makes her look like Elisha Cuthbert as a bordello worker. I sense she and her Agent came up with a list of looks that will demonstrate her acting versatility over the course of the season. Can't wait to see her (slutty) merchant ivory get up.
  
• Robin might be this season's premier psycho. Or it might be lap-dancing Marshana. Either way, I think they'll both be fun.
• Carri is a "Church Marketer". Who pays her salary? What would Jesus have on his business cards?
  
• I love Amanda because she gets stress hiccups. Hilarious!

Of course, I can not let pass without comment the most embarrassing moment of the of the show (possibly of the season - can't say). Carri decides she must continue the talent show parade and while sitting not 12 inches from Matt who is trapped by the edge of a mysteriously small love seat, she opens her mouth and lets her opera singing pipes do their thing. But the song selection just puts me over the edge. Summer time and the livin is easy!? Oh the humanity...

Finally, it's time for the rose ceremony. Not yet emotionally attached to any of these girls, I found it pretty uneventful (except for Amanda's hiccups. Adorable). Chris comes in to remind us it's the final rose and I remember how useless he is, and how much I've missed him.

Erin H get the boot and tries to give our Brit a European-style double sided kiss, but turns her head weirdly so he ends up kissing her hair. Awkward!

Ending on a high point, we're treated to a moment of psycho drama after Michelle P emphatically implores Matt to seek out the good. She then goes (tearfully) on and on about how much she misses her cat who is the love of her life. As my friend J pointed out, "At that moment I flashed forward and saw many, many more cats in her future." Couldn't have said it better myself...

Chaos is dangerous

Not only did I miss The Bachelor: London Calling premier episode last week, I didn't even realize I missed it until a couple of nights ago.

Let's blame it on the fact that my kitchen and dining area looked like this for most of last week:


Luckily, I caught tonight's episode and will have comments posted shortly. Stay tuned...

Anniversary

My surgery was one year ago today. I can hardly believe it. It's funny how anniversaries can bring everything right back. The weather feels the same, the sunlight feels the same - it's made me remember how scared I was. I wish I could go back and tell that girl that brain surgery is no big deal. Just do what they tell you and before you know it, it's over.

To alleviate some of my anxiety, I interviewed a lot of brain surgery patients in the weeks leading up to my procedure. One of the things they all advised me was that I would feel much better after the first three months, and I would think I was back to normal after six. But at one year it would be as though a veil had been lifted and then I would remember what normal is.

Well, I believe that I will miss this epiphanal experience as my body is far from normal at this point. Something tells me another epiphany is right around the corner...

Every room needs a focal point

New Yorkers know full well, and the rest of you may have heard that there was a devastating construction accident here in New York over the weekend. A crane collapsed and fell across a city block and a half, leaving death and destruction in its path. The kind of freak accident we don't like to think about since most of us walk in blissful ignorance under massive overhead construction projects on a daily basis.

So let me first say that both Terry and I understand the depths of this tragedy.

Be that as it may, you can tell we're in the midst of a kitchen renovation. When Terry saw this picture on the news last night he said, "Oh. That's a Wolf range. Nice."

No comment on the I-beam that I read in the Times today had been catapulted into the air by the falling crane and hurled more than a football field’s length through the sky. It shot like a spear through the roof of a town house on the next block, then down through four floors and a brick wall. It ended up lodged in the concrete floor of the basement of a town house next door, its top half in the kitchen on the first floor, and as further reported by the Times, "just inches from a microwave oven and a stainless steel Wolf range."

I'm still here!

Are you?

I can't believe it's been so long since I posted something. It's because I've been working a lot. It's not that I don't have time to write - I'm a night owl, and could certainly write into the wee hours - it's just that nothing interesting is happening to me because I'm usually in the office. No inspiration...

This past weekend I managed not to do any work at all, but I did have to attend TWELVE HOURS of birthing class over two days. Seriously. Twelve hours. 14 year olds give birth in locker rooms and go back to class. What could possibly be on the agenda that takes 12 hours to explain? About 1 1/2 hours of it was useful. Really all I wanted to know was 1. when do I go to the hospital and 2. when should I get the epidural.

The remaining 10 1/2 hours involved a lot of "learning exercises" that I found ridiculous. For example, they made us hold ice cubes in our bare hands to create discomfort and had us try various distraction techniques. Of course then we had to share our thoughts out loud with the group. When the instructor asked us to share what we "trust about childbirth" I felt like saying, "Well, I trust that it's going to hurt more than holding an ice cube. Can we speed this up?"

After the first "hold the ice cube" exercise, when the teacher asked us all how we had coped with it, one guy said, "Well, I tried talking to the ice cube. I told it soon it would melt and I wouldn't feel it." Teacher: "Oh, that's excellent. How could you help your wife apply that during labor?" "Well, we could talk to her cervix." I did not belong in this class.

Saving grace? The class was held in a building across the street from one of my favorite restaurants in New York: Artisanal. Fondue for lunch. Now cheese I can talk to...

Milestones

1. My haircutter told me at my last appointment that my hair is now even on both sides, and he no longer has to cut one side differently to camouflage an inconsistency. He was going to pop some champagne, but alas, no bubbly for me in my condition. (By the way, didn't it take forever to grow out my hair!? No one could tell there was any difference for some time now, but there was. The texture and density were different. Apparently it takes a while for blood supply to return to the follicles so they begin to function normally again. Who knew? Turns out my follicles were more traumatized than I was.)

2. I just drove on the highway for the first time this past weekend. I didn't feel entirely comfortable because turning my head from side to side still triggers the vertigo sensation, so switching lanes is a little unsettling. But it really was time - and it went fine. But if you see me on the roads in a little silver jetta - may want to keep your distance.

3. I cooked something last night. Terry is still in Argentina and I've already finished the package of English Muffins that was in the freezer (I've been getting home from work way too late to have the patience to wait for takeout), so I actually resorted to making something all by myself. Mac n Cheese with tuna and peas. I don't know if you would count this as cooking, but I do since I combined ingredients that didn't originally come together. Plus I had to use the stove top and several kitchen gadgets such as a slotted spoon, a can opener and a collander. Consider how desperate I am: last week I was still hungry after finishing some doggy bag chicken so I topped it off with three spoonfuls of chunky peanutbutter.

4. Terry has ordered the range for the kitchen. There is no turning back. After torturing for several months about whether the love of his life was a Thermador, a Blue Star or an American Range, he went with the American Range. They start ripping out our kitchen on March 10th. Seriously, could I have timed this worse? Taking chaos in stride is going to be an early life lesson for Baby Voltz. Here's a picture of the range. We might include this picture on the birth announcements.

Crazy Like a Fox

I've written before about my affection for the New York crazies in general, and I've talked about one of my favorites, The Naked Cowboy. Turns out he's suing Mars for $6 million. Check out this article in the Journal explaining the situation. Basically, Mars used his likeness in a Times Square ad that attempts to draw people into the Hershey Store there. From what I've heard, the ad has already been taken down. Let's see if they are forced to pay up...

Guest Post From Argentina

While my pregnant wife is hanging around Starbucks waiting for a wink from her fantasy barista, I am riding horses and taking boat trips to have lunch and drink caipirinhas on a private island.

Preggers can't be choosers

At not quite 7 months pregnant, I am suffering from fashion famine. I keep wearing the same five outfits over and over. And with all the cute Spring lines in the stores, I just feel more huge than ever.

So I think it must have been the fact that the 19 year old part time worker behind the Starbucks counter couldn't see my belly - it being obscured by the register - that made this conversation possible. But since it's been at least 6 months since I've felt even remotely cute, I'll take what I can get...

"Yo, that haircut is hot."
"Thank you."
"Seriously. I don't think I've ever seen that hair on a real girl before."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it looks like a picture you'd see, you know, like on a model, but I've never seen it in real life."
"Oh. Thanks."
"You should always keep it like that. I hope your boyfriend likes that hairstyle."
"Well, yes, my husband likes it."
"Oh. That's cool."

I think I was very close to free lattes for at least the rest of February and possibly one dutch movie date before I mentioned the husband. Who's in Argentina for two weeks, by the way. So maybe I'll hang around Starbucks tomorrow for fun...

What on earth am I going to do this Sunday?

I just can't let it go. I've been keeping all the sports sections from the newspapers this week. I bought The Daily News (which I never read) on Monday because they had a special edition 40 page Super Bowl section. I will savor every minute of the season's last Inside the NFL which will be on HBO tonight. I can't wait for this weekend when I have the time to watch the game again - which I may never erase off TiVO. I am totally smitten with this team of mine and I don't want to face the fact that this unfathomable season is over.

Indulge me one more time. I promise to find another topic to fixate on for upcoming posts (a kitchen renovation or the state of denial I'm in about a child coming to live with us soon both come to mind).

In the meantime, here are some pictures that I find fun:

Our work here is done...

My mother's sage words brought to life, "Super models don't like losers."

New Yorkers line the Canyon of Heroes

It's so great to see these Giants so excited - even cynical, trash-talking Michael Strahan has his video camera out to capture the day. How cute is that?

Well, as of Monday, I guess we're all undefeated. Can't wait for Week 1...

18 - 1

Manning mania

Trivia: 18 sets of brothers have played in the Super Bowl, but this is the first time for a pair of quarterbacks. Obviously, I'm hoping Eli will repeat Peyton's outcome from last year.

Needless to say, I can't wait for tomorrow's game. The family is coming over. My brother and I have watched all the playoff games together, so we can't break the karma. I'll continue to wear 11 and Brendan will wear 10. We're a little superstitious.

I didn't write about it before because I've been busy at work - not a lot of free time for hobby writing - but the NFC Championship Game was a total blast. My family was in Montauk for the holiday weekend, and we watched the game from The Montauket. I don't know if any of you know that place - it's a local bar on the South Fork. It's very hard to find and it's patrons are locals. Not exactly the usual Hamptons scene - no investment bankers, or trophy wives - just fishermen, firemen and off the wall local characters. The place has been there forever and I just love the completely unpretentious atmosphere. Perfect place to watch a Giants game.

Living up to its reputation, the place was filled with some colorful characters. My two favorites were 1. a guy who had tied a bar of soap on a string around his neck. His friends made him lick it everytime he cursed and 2. a guy whom we had seen the night before at another local bar - he was drunk then and was still drunk now. He was spewing language like you could not believe. At one point my mother told him to watch his mouth. Mistake. He apologized and then glommed onto her and decided the two of them were going to Phoenix together. He also asked her if the Giants won, would she streak across the bar naked with him. Unphased, she replied that she had given that up years ago.

Live entertainment aside, the game was not to be believed. I have never come so close to having multiple heart attacks. This was more than luck - the Giants were amazing, and Eli has finally shown all the doubters he really is a Manning. It was so exciting and I just can't even believe we're here. Here are some pictures from The Montauket.

Clearly, this is one classy joint.

Ready for some serious cheering.

Number 72 is the crazy guy with the foul language who wants to take my mom to Phoenix. In this picture he's talking to her while she patiently endures his rants. She taught emotionally distrubed children for 30 years in the New York City Public School system. She handled this guy just fine.

My two sister in laws and my mom are obviously only there because my brother and I dragged them. They try to pretend they know what's going on with the game...


...but by the end even they are caught up in Giants mania.

Here Brendan and I are - praying during the last regular time field goal attempt by Tynes. This one ended in tears.


Guardedly happy when the Giants pull off an interception during overtime. (I look a little manic - don't I?)

Slightly in shock after Tynes is finally successful. On to Phoenix...

Narcissism in action

This is an old story by now, so undoubtedly, some of you have already heard this one. But it's fascinating and creepy, so I'm sharing for those that missed it.

A couple in England was forced to have their marriage annulled after discovering that they were twins! Yikes!

They had been separated at birth and each raised in adoptive families. They ended up meeting later in life. In a true demonstration that we're all in love with ourselves, they fell head over heels and married. ("You're so attractive." "No - YOU'RE so attractive...")

Yuck.

Here's the full story as reported by CNN.