i swear on good beer, i will never drive a space shuttle van

My friend Neil, who possesses an impressive and plentiful trivia knowledge base (President Obama, sailor men, coolant, HTML coding, hot dogs, etc.) said to me the other day while discussing the societal constructs of what it means to drive a minivan, " I equate driving a minivan without kids in tow, and as a man, to having no penis."

Yes, we were in the car...on camelback - stuck behind a blockade of rude vans. One step back...

We then got into a curious discussion about minivans as a whole. Please take no offense to the fact that I have very random yet specific items in my life in which I choose to place a decent amount of my time and effort into hating (ginger babies, peanut butter, the Eagles, wrestling, etc.). It just so happens, that minivans (ahem, Honda Odysseys) have now made the list. The primary argument is this - those driving them (mostly moms who have proven to be careless drivers), don't really want to be driving them in the first place. They don't do it out of a desire/love of the car. It's pure practicality or necessity. Thus, in general, I don't find myself fond of items that others own and dislike. Further, I've found that many women, continue to drive these beasts years after the "need" has grown and been shipped off to college, even law school. Am I missing something?

The thing is, I equate minivans to a few things that I tend to be unsupportive of: slow, off balance, shaky rounding of curve capability; the distinct smell of frosted flakes and cheetos melted into the interior and cracks of the seats; midnight blue interior and wooden paneling; tires with no tread; sticky cupholders; sticky fingers.

I think I'll let my [newfound] horror of the van soak in, and allow for another heated discussion with my know-it-all conundrum pal Neil. Then I'll really cut loose.

Until then - there's moving (in two days), preparing for Panama (in 10 days), an impossible and yet mandatory pile of work to complete (already overdue), tuberculosis of the toe to cure (just in general) and well - goodbyes to be said. My dear girl Kate will be departing Phoenix in under 72 hours.

One of my favorite PostSecrets

Valentine's on the Patio - to "Health and Safety"

The evening began with complimenary valet. As we were seated, I noticed the hostess' colossal poof in her hair, almost a bouffant. I kinda dug it. As the server read us the specials, I was contemplating how I could do that to my hair when I got home.

As dinner conversation evolved, I was taken aback by this group: poised, fashionable, wealthy and yet, genuinely interested-in-my-life and curious individuals. These weren't my family members nor were they old family friends of mine. They weren't my boyfriend's parents either. They were my roomate's boyfriend's parents. Oh - and also their friends who have a second home here in Phoenix.

On our dimly lit patio, under the clear night sky, we sat beneath heat lamps in 60 degree weather and sipped bottomless chardonnay. The men drank cabernet. I'll say, the more the conversation progressed, I was eminently refreshed and just, downright fond of this company. I guess I hadn't realized how long it had been since I had conversed with such fantastic, and I'll add, caring company. And I was smiling - like a happy, glowing smile, that comes from your (horizontal) belly.

We talked about Couple Two's daughters (they had three of them): one, just married and a stylist in New York. The other two daughters lived together in San Francisco and "pay too much in rent"($3100 per month). And, we talked a bit about Couple One's golfing during their stay in Phoenix (Troon North, Grawhawk, et al). But mostly, my roomate and I did the blabbing. And mostly, both Couple One and Couple Two, demonstrated a level of authentic interest, asking surprising questions and offering their years of wisdom and experience to each story.

And in between laughs and "Health and Safety" toasts, another thing became evident to me: how happy each couple still was in their marriage. In proper Valentine's Day form, I felt touched - to be in the presence of such charming people - and to be enjoying this N-th Valentine's Day with them. Truly, an honor.It's always reasonably telling to me, meeting the parents. It surfaces why this person you've known one way is who they are. Now, I've met Bub's parents once, but briefly. And after this three hour delightful dinner, I feel I know Bub better - and I'll add, that I'm even more fond of the kid.

An enjoyable February 14 indeed and one for the record books.

The Expulsion of the Baby Dinosaur

If there are two things I hate, it's thick necks and staying in on a Friday night. Furthermore, staying in when you've truly had a long, hard, thankless work-week. And yet, here I am in bed at 9:30pm... on Friday - fat neck and all.

My body does this peculiar cautioning act just as it's on the brink of crashing: the swelling of the throat. Those who knew me in my college days lovingly knew it as my "baby dinosaur."

It all started over 8 years ago. I endured a harsh case of mono (like literally, I was quarantined) and ever since, my throat has been my frailty. I find it both helpful and hindering when it balloons up to that baby dinosaur state. Because it's such a fine balance of collapse. And by now, I know the drill all too well: slow down, get more sleep, chug emergencee. If I don't listen, I'm a goner and slide right into uber-fat-neck-ville (the place I hate), taking on any other symptoms of whatever illness I was coming down with. However, if I listen to the neck... often behaving against my will (in this case, staying in on a Friday), I can almost always beat it and bypass being sick entirely.

On this particular Friday, the baby dinosaur swelling was so drastic, it's caused my neck line to become as nonexistent as a 300-pounder. So for vanity reasons as well, I'm here in bed, electric blanket on, sleeping it off... and pounding emergencees.

And damnit, this week was what put me in this swollen state to start out with! Both emotionally and physically, my body was overworked. The only way I got through my 13 hour days was the distant promise of a cold beverage and non-tourism conversation, preferably together. The sad fact that I'm not kicking back downtown with beer and my partner in crime Neil, makes me want to cry.

That idiotic baby dinosaur. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Soon - you'll be gone.

Twenty-Five Things – If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em:

25) Three key insecurities of mine – my horizontal belly-button, my fat fingers and my ankles.

24) I find pretty boys terribly unattractive.

23) My obsession with scarves has taken a turn from acceptable to obscene. Note: I reside in a city where the use of them, is entirely unnecessary.

22) Two of my dearest friends are ones that I met while in Australia in the summer of 2002. We have never lived in the same town and have maintained a long-distance friendship over several countries, cities and years.

21) As I get older, (gasp) the more and more I’m just like my mother.

20) My Pandora (online radio) stations have the likes of Rod Stewart, Giuseppe Verdi, Amos Lee, Manu Chao and Prince.

19) I sweat when I drink orange juice. Like, visibly.

18) I experienced a heart-wrenching passing of a good friend’s father a little over a year ago. I’ll never be the same.

17) When I was in the sixth grade, my house burned to the ground. I remember watching it burn, and wondering if it was the evil tarot cards I played the night before that caused it.

16) If I had to choose between eggs and beer, I’d be painstakingly torn.

15) I’m traveling to Panama in three weeks to visit an entire side of my family I’ve never known.

14) My memory – is steadily getting worse. I’m 23.

13) Biggest Fear? Obesity.

12) I sleep with an electric blanket. In the desert.

11) I don’t like sweets.

10) It’s been brought to my attention, that I just might be the most curious person ever. I’m worried one day, it’ll get the best of me.

9) Sometimes I look at my name, and it seems terribly unfamiliar.

8) Horror Movies: they’re my favorite.

7) Guilty pleasures include “Brothers and Sisters”, superhero little-boy underwear and Dr. Pepper.

6) While traveling abroad, I had a 10 minute window to catch a train from our arriving ferry coming from Greece to an Italian train station, the only train of the day. As the boat pulled ashore, only one taxi awaited. We were 8 minutes from the station. I still think of that as the ride of my (and the Italian taxi driver’s) life. I’m quite certain the driver will pass the story down for generations to come.

5) Speaking of Europe – I stole a book in France from a gift shop. I just shoved it in my purse. I still have it in my bookshelf.

4) I wish I cared more about politics, but I simply don’t.

3) I started off saying I never wanted kids. And lately, I’m not so positive.

2) I’ve undergone a drastic lifestyle change and ran the ½ Marathon last month. I know for the rest of my life, I’ll be a runner. Thank you, Kate. Yes we can!

1) As a kid, my dad told me STOP stood for “skid tires on pavement.” Still today, that’s the precise way I choose to live my life.