Two Dozen is Better Than One

This week I’ll be turning 24 and I’m totally jazzed about it. What a great age. Why? Let me tell you –

• 24 happens to be a super cool show, which I have never seen a minute of, but rumor has it that its totally hip, and anything that has rumors surrounding it is totally cool.
• 7-11 is open 24 hours a day – who doesn’t love a good slurpee at 4 am??
• Jeff Gordon’s car number is 24 – I could care less about NASCAR, but in some circles, this number represents a religion.
• 24 equals two dozen and things that are counted by “dozen” usually are tasty, so two dozen of anything tasty is way better than one.

I can’t really think of anything else great about the number 24, but you catch my drift – I’m excited for my birthday. But ever since I turned 21 I noticed that my peers react to birthdays, beyond the one that granted them legal access to bars for the first time, with so much despair. Most of my friends fall in the under 30 category and when they complain about how “old” they are when their birthday arrives, I just know that people in their 30s and 40s want to give them a swift kick to their STILL YOUNG butts.

Okay, okay, I get it. I understand that some of these despairing 20 somethings expected to maybe be somewhere in their lives by the time they hit 21 and they aren’t quite there yet. My lord are these people an ambitious group!Just because you don’t have a corner office or a husband/wife in your 20s doesn’t mean you aren’t successful – heck, if you don’t have these things by your 30s, its fine... but when you get your 40s and you’re still an intern and living with your parents, then we might have problem.

I wish people, young people in particular, would embrace birthdays and not dread them. This is YOUR day to celebrate YOU. When else do you get to do that?! Well, actually, I remember asking my mom when I was little why there was a mother’s day and father’s day, but not a kid’s day – her response? EVERY day is kid’s day. Point taken. But seriously, birthdays are meant to celebrate everything wonderful about your life and if things aren’t THAT wonderful, at least take this day to celebrate with the wonderful people in your life. I know that’s why I love my birthday – I get to spend time with people that I don’t always get to see but love dearly.

(Sidenote – if I don’t see you this week, its not that I don’t love you dearly or consider you to be not wonderful, because I do and you are – I think that covers all my bases, right?)

And what’s with age anyway? We aren’t living in the era when you get hitched at 20 and pop out your first kid at 22 – it’s just not like that anymore. In reality, there has never been a better time to age and embrace each birthday even if you’re turning 24 or 34 or 44....

So go forth and celebrate each birthday with excitement, and if you still can indulge in birthday cake with great people, consider yourself young (and that counts even if you have dentures and need to sip your birthday cake through a straw). Remember age is in your actions, not your wrinkles. I know a lot of old, stuffy 20 somethings and I also know a 91 year old who has the youngest person I’ve ever met. So as I begin to celebrate my two dozen years of life, I won’t moan or groan, I'll remember that two dozen is better than one and each year will be better than the last.

The "Train Wave"

What? ANOTHER post about riding the train you say? Get over it. I’m a commuter and will spend half of my adult life sitting in the last car of the Metra, right side, 4th seat up, and it’s only natural to write about what you know... and I know trains.

So, the “Train Wave”. What the heck is the "Train Wave" or better yet, my burning question is why does it even exist to begin with??

The next time you ride a train, look out the window and you’ll slowly begin to notice that the most random people wave as your train passes by. Now, I’m NOT talking about the cute little kids, who wave their adorable chubby hands as they wait for daddy to get off the train or the lame heartbroken boyfriend who waves farewell to his probably not-gonna-last for another week girlfriend who gets on the train to go to summer camp... “Buddy, she’s coming back eventually, but probably with a new boyfriend, so stop lamely waving”.

I’m talking about grown adults, who are taking a morning jog through their neighborhood or walking to the end of their driveway to pick up the paper who WAVE AS THE TRAIN PASSES BY – thus the term, “Train Wave”. (Note that although this behavior exists, I made up that term, so use it with caution to avoid embarrassment when you suddenly realize that it’s not a universally embraced term.)

So back to these adult, able minded train wavers. Why do they wave to a train in the distance when they know that the hundreds of people who are riding it will just end up staring at them thinking that they look ridiculous in their tight running shorts or funny in their fluffy bath robe? Do they know someone on the train and just hope that their drive by waving will catch the eye of their loved one? Probably not. These train wavers are waving at complete strangers, for what reason, I don’t know.

If you think I’m being tough on these nut bars, I would ask you to then walk outside and wave to someone you don’t know - and accidentally waving to a person who looked like your best friend in a crowded bar doesn’t count. I’m talking about stretching out your hand muscles, going into the Chicago loop, standing on the street and waving... to anyone and everyone... you’ll soon be the best dressed homeless, crazy person anyone has ever seen.

This morning, my train passed a construction site and a few of the sweaty guys started waving at it – note that you can’t see through the windows very well and most of these “Train Waves” happen from pretty far away, so its not like they saw a hot young dish and wanted to live up to the dirty construction worker stereotype and ogle her. And then we passed through another town and some landscapers literally put down their rakes and starting waving as we went by. It was like the Metra transformed into the Pope-Mobile or something and all its riders were his holiness. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

The best one is this lady who jogs every morning alongside the street that follows the tracks. She will do the “no eye contact Train Wave” as she keeps her eyes straight ahead with determination as she runs, yet will raise her right and wave like crazy not even breaking her stare. It’s like she was told that if she doesn’t wave like a moron to the trains that pass by she’ll be struck down by lightening. This is truly perplexing to me because when I’m not riding the train and see one pass, I don’t instinctively start convulsing with happiness and try to get the attention of the strangers within the mysterious locomotive.

Since I experienced so many “Train Waves” this morning, I’ve been trying to think of instances in which you’d publically wave at a stranger. Like during one of the parades at Disney. In that instance, you wave like crazy to Minnie Mouse who is probably an out of luck dude looking for extra money, but that doesn’t even come close to “Train Wave” because you are in a setting that permits and expects it.

But, if Minnie Mouse were to pop up randomly on the street of your home town, I bet that you wouldn’t start waving at her (or in some cases, under the costume, him), you’d probably think, “who’s the jerk who stole that costume?” See, there is a time and a place for random acts of waveness, so I don’t get how trains constitute as that appropriate time and place.

So as I wait for the answers to address this phenomenon, I’ll continue to ride the train, looking out at my “fans” who wave at me like Minnie Mouse on parade. Yeah, it still creeps me out.

My Big, Fat, Chicago Wedding

It’s official. I’m getting hitched. And it seems that finding the man was the easy part.

The cost of a kidney on the black market is cheaper than the cost of a nice wedding. And I’m not even talking about “Hollywood” nice. I’m talking about “beautiful, but not over the top because I’m not a celebrity making millions” nice. I’m no Beverly Hills princess; I’m just a nice girl from the Chicago suburbs and all I want is a tasteful reception that isn’t held in a tacky banquet hall that looks like it came straight out of “My Big, Fat Greek Wedding” – is that too much to ask for? Apparently.

So here I am. Just at the start of my wedding planning and I’ve already had bridal induced heartburn.

I recently read an article about how although the economy continues to decline, the wedding business continues to increase and the amount of money spent on receptions rises quicker than prices at the gas pump. Some couples are going broke just so they can host an event where they will most likely not be able to eat or drink what they are paying for, be forced to slow dance with creepy Uncle Lester and crazy Aunt Marge and then be left with a collection of useless kitchen gadgets. On top of that, the planning for this blessed event probably consumed 12+ months of their lives, caused numerous arguments and was the source of frequent tears. Well, when you think about it, I guess that’s actually a lot of bang for your buck.

You may start to wonder... why would I even bother planning a traditional wedding? Why waste money, tears and antacids when I can just hop on a plane to Vegas? Or better yet, why not just make a toast with tequila and do a beach wedding in Mexico? Yes, the thought has crossed my mind and it may cross my mind again when I’m battling over who gets cut from the guest list... but at the end of the day, I’m THAT girl who dreamt about her wedding since she was little and I didn’t envision getting married by Elvis or having a mariachi band as the entertainment. Plus, I don’t have a creepy Uncle Lester, so I can rest assured that my tushy won’t be squeezed by any drunk, twice removed relatives.

So, my childhood dreams have put me in a wedding vendor headlock – I will have to succumb to extra fees and upgraded linens... so I’ll just skip my daily Starbucks run to save more money, I’ll try to leave my sensitivity at the door and realize that I can’t please EVERYONE (this will be the HARDEST thing for me to do)... oh wait, there is one thing that I have to deal with that can’t be avoided: competition.

My sister got married 1.5 years ago and she had a lovely wedding. The venue was great, the food was great, the music was great, the speeches were great (ahem, one of them being my own, ahem), and it all happened for a great price (or at least “great” in comparison of what I’m looking at). Grrrreeeeeaaatttt.

The pros of having gone through my sister’s wedding planning is that we know what won’t work... but I’m more concerned about what WILL work. And will my wedding be as great? Okay, okay... I hear you... I shouldn’t compare my day to anyone else’s, but if you were in my shoes you’d feel the same way... its like telling someone the mountain size zit on their forehead doesn’t look “that bad” when you damn well that they look like they have a mini Mt. St. Helen’s on their face.

But enough whining – where do I go from here? Sell one of my kidneys on the black market? Eh, I probably shouldn’t. Snap out of pity party mode and plan the big, fat Chicago wedding of my dreams? Most definitely. As I try to stay level headed, I’ll run into tears, heartburn and bouts of “let’s forget about all of this and go to Vegas”, but in the end it will all be worth it because I'm THAT girl who has dreamt about her wedding since she was little and my dream come true will be waiting for me at the end of the aisle... and THAT is what matters. (oh, and good reception food matters because no one likes a hard potato and tasteless chicken)