Tag Archives: airhead

Totally dropped that ball…

10 Mar

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Imagine you’re planning a trip to Europe with a colleague. You’ve put together to do lists and have reminded your colleague to authorize her bank card for overseas use and make sure her passport is still valid. “Check the date,” you tell her, “because you technically can’t travel on a passport that is set to expire in the next six months.”

You continue on your merry way, booking arrangements and finalizing your agenda. Then, four weeks before your trip, you wake up at 3am on a Saturday, staring at the ceiling, haunted by a question. “When does MY passport expire?” you ask yourself, a question you should’ve considered months ago with the trip was an initial glimmer in the back of your brain.

You calmly rise from bed and approach your safe, reassuring yourself. “I’d never let my passport expire. I’m sure it’s fine,” you repeat as you tap in the code. The door springs open and you retrieve your passport. You open it and see the date of expiration: January 2016.



What then unfolds is a scramble. You’re grateful for the internet because you quickly learn that you can rush a passport renewal for a small fee. You call the passport agency to see if you can get an appointment to do a same-week passport. You learn that unfortunately (fortunately?) you must be traveling within two weeks to warrant the kind of desperate service that results in an in-person interview and passport replacement.

Instead, you’re told you need to go the “expedited processing by mail” route. It makes you nervous to entrust your passport to the USPS and a post office box. You imagine all the scenarios in which you could be worse off than you currently are: your application could get lost en route to Philadelphia; it could fall into a crevice in the processing center and never get renewed; your new passport could get lost in the mail on its way back to your; it could get stolen from the lobby of your apartment building if the envelope doesn’t fit in your mailbox.

All the scenarios you imagine end with you not having a passport, unable to go on the trip you’ve been meticulously planning. You imagine telling your colleague that she’s flying solo. You imagine her eyes widening like saucers as she realizes she will be single-handedly leading ten days of training for 60 people.

You decide not to tell anyone about your predicament until you have your new passport safely in-hand.

You sit back and wait for your passport to arrive, so you start writing a blog post to bide your time…

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I suppose it could be worse…

Surprisingly, I’m not a natural blonde.

21 Jan

You know that sports expression about “leaving it all on the field?” (Or as we say in yoga: leaving it on the mat.) Well, I had that kind of week at work.

In fact, I left so much on the mat, it appears I didn’t save anything for the weekend. In an uncharacteristic move, I spent most of today on the couch, napping and listening to an audiobook (repeatedly, since I couldn’t stay awake).

I finally peeled myself off the couch at 4:30 to go to yoga. There was a class in session, so I took my shoes off and plopped on a seat, waiting for it to end. Then, self-doubt kicked in. What time is it? Is that MY class? Am I late? 

I pulled out my cell phone to check the time. Nope: still five minutes until class. Whew.

But I couldn’t remember there being a class on the schedule immediately before mine, so I pulled my phone back out to check. And that’s when I realized: I had hoofed it to the studio for a class that is scheduled tomorrow. Awesome.

Perhaps I need a pedicure?

Shaking my head, I put my shoes back on and sheepishly walked back downstairs. As I passed the front desk, I shrugged and explained, “I’m a dumbass.  I was thinking today was Sunday. See you tomorrow instead!” The girl just laughed and waved me out.

I walked half way home before realizing I didn’t have my yoga mat with me any more. So I had to turn around and go back to the studio. When I walked through the door, the girl said, “Sunday, already?” Clever. Ass-whooping time, already? 

I retrieved my mat and headed back home, returning to the couch I never should’ve left in the first place. Turns out ? There’s a fine line between leaving it all on the mat, and just plain leaving the mat.


Guess it’s time to dye my roots.

30 Aug

Alan and I have been living on different continents for much of the past four months. As a result, he’s viewing me with fresh eyes. At least, I’d like to think that’s what prompted him – completely unprompted – to ask this weekend,”Wow. How dark is your hair naturally?”

I looked at him steadily, and in the pause that allowed me to formulate my thoughts, he continued, “I mean. I’m confused. I’m not seeing the amount of silvers that I usually do, so you must’ve dyed it recently, but the roots are still really dark. Almost brown. How do you do that?”

Admittedly, I find it endearing that he doesn’t realize how most women would take this. (Flashback to when he compared me to a calico cat because I had swirls of blond, brown and gray hair.) And I’m under no illusion that I have great hair or even well-colored hair.

The truth is, I don’t know what my natural color is. I was blond as a child and started swimming in middle school, so my hair has had some degree of chemical treatment since I was 11. Since I now have a ridiculous number of grays on my head (random guess would point to 25%), I color my hair to help them blend in, rather than to chase some fantasy of being blond.

In any case, Alan’s fascination with my hair led me to explain that I couldn’t exactly define “natural,” but I was pretty sure it wasn’t actually blond. He seemed satisfied with that explanation, so we hopped a bus to meet friends in Georgetown for a mid-hurricane brunch.

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