Welcome Back, Red Sox Fans

Dear Pink Hats, this is what it feels like to be a Red Sox fan. In the seven years since the Sox won their first Championship in 86 years, and then another one, not to mention collecting division titles or the wild cards most years in between, you've all been able to cheer on Boston through rose-colored glasses (good thing they match your hat).

I bet you woke up today feeling like you've never felt before as a Boston fan. Disappointed, disgusted, heart-broken. Well, this is how it felt to be a Red Sox fan every year pre-2004 World Series.

Last night as I watched the Orioles storm the field and celebrate being the spoiler of the Sox postseason, it all came rushing back. Aaron Boone. 2003. No World Series. Again. After the ball soared over the wall and the Yankees mobbed Boone as he crossed home plate, I locked myself in my college dorm room and wrote. I wrote how sad I felt so I could feel better. Just like I am writing this now.

And as I write this, I discover that I am a little thankful for last night. Boston fans have been spoiled with multiple championships across all sports and I think we've gotten used to winning so much that we half expect to just walk into the playoffs every year. The Red Sox had to work for it (obviously not hard enough) this time and for the first time in seven years, I was on the edge of my seat. I've been plenty nervous many times since 2004, but this was different. I can't really explain it, but baseball was once again exciting, albeit heart-breaking, and it felt like the old days.

The magic has worn off (I mean, really-- we lost on what should have been the last strike of the game and the Rays overcame a 7-0 Yankee lead in Game 162). Fate has spoken, we are no longer the favorite son.

I guess that's what us Red Sox fans feel comfortable identifying with--pain, suffering, disappointment. I feel like after last night, Red Sox Nation (a post-2004 creation) will lose some of its entitlement for titles and true baseball fans will stick around. Maybe after last night Boston Red Sox fans will wear more navy and red and less pink.

After last night, I feel a change is coming in Boston. Red Sox fans have spent years bonding over heartbreak and disappointment and had a chance to spend a few years celebrating success together. Now, more than ever, it's important to stick together. And I could care less if the bandwagon becomes unhitched in the process.

A Weekend Hard to Stomach

This weekend, I bottomed out. With my head in the toilet and my shaking, spent body crumpled on the cold bathroom tile, I realized I needed to give myself a break.

I got hit hard and fast with a stomach virus this weekend and I'm not very surprised. While it sucked to surrender all of my awesome weekend plans to spend quality time with a Porcelain God from 1970, I am kind of glad it happened.

Last week was stress central. My impending student loans have been hanging off my shoulders like a heavy winter coat for weeks as I keep putting them off; I tried and failed to keep my diet on track as free lunches, breakfast pastries and cookies took over the work kitchen; I hated myself with every bite I couldn't resist; and chastised myself for struggling to run 9.8 miles in preparation for the upcoming half marathon (which might have had to do with a developing stomach virus but I've been frustrated with my performance in every long run I've done in each of the last few weeks).

I was punishing myself and my body was finally fighting back. After being harshly criticized all week for eating this, not doing that, not running hard enough... without any encouragement in between, my body was pretty fed up.

Needless to say (I'll spare you the details), lesson learned. It took me a few days to keep down anything other than water, Gatorade or saltines. It's time for a fresh start and an attitude adjustment. I'm taking a break from training and have put off counting every calorie I put in my mouth until I feel 100 percent better. When I pick it back up, I'll try to go a little easier on myself.

Now that I have more energy, I guess it's time to address that heavy load that's suffocating me--my student loans. Tonight, my first night in which I did not immediately jump into bed when I got home from work, I promised myself I'd finally sort them all out. I better keep some saltines close, I have a feeling the nausea will return once I start crunching the numbers and cutting those checks.

Fantasy Football vs. Reality Relationship

I used to consider Christmas as the most wonderful time of the year. Wrong. Tis the season of fantasy football!

What I love about fantasy football, besides the fact that it is a much longer season than Christmas even despite the shopping industry’s attempts to start the holiday season in October, is that it allows me to be a part of the sport I love to watch. I can participate in the season by creating my own Dream Team of players across the league. Which got me thinking-- what if dating was as great and as easy as managing a fantasy football team?

My fantasy football team is like the perfect man—I get what I need from several different players and each one fulfills a different role. I have my defense to protect me, my quarterback to take charge and call the shots, my wide receiver to make big plays, my tight end to be there when I need him, and my running back who works hard to eke out every inch he can on important plays.

No guy is perfect, we know this, and unless one is a man and lives in Utah, this fantasy of multiple people to fill different roles will never be a reality. However, there are a few lessons fantasy football can teach us about dating.

Fantasy football makes me an equal opportunity football lover—on one of my fantasy teams, I have three people from my most hated NFL team, the J-E-T-S. On one of the others, I have a mini Patriots squad of Wes Welker, Law Firm, Deion Branch, Chad Ochocinco, Stephen Gostkoswki and the New England defense (I haven’t been this much of a homer since my first fantasy team in 2001, when my hockey team consisted of 98% Bruins players and in turn finished in last place). When it comes to dating, I have a specific type. Perhaps if I forced myself to branch out, I might come up with a winner.

If you don’t like how a player acts from week to week, you can bench him. Sometimes we all just need a little break. No one can be perfect 100 percent of the time, every time (well, except Tom Brady). We have off weeks (I’m looking at you LaDanian Tomlinson and Antonio Gates) and awesome weeks (Tony Gonzalez). Just think, have you ever seen a child between the age of 2 and 5 who hasn't drastically improved his or her behavior after a timeout?

Like fantasy football, relationships require patience. Benching a player is fine, but don’t jump the gun and surf the waiver wire and drop said player like last week’s news. Again, we all have off weeks. If poor performance persists for consecutive weeks, then you can consider dumping said player. If you give up on him too soon and set him free, you might kick yourself when he has a big game the next week.

Fantasy teams are investments that take time and commitment. Why is it that some people avoid commitments like relationships as if they were the plague, but will pay money to be included in a fantasy football league? Like fantasy football, relationships can be a blast and a lot of fun. Also like fantasy football, they require effort. Every morning I monitor my team to see who’s been injured, surf the wires (see previous lesson before doing so), and adjust lineups accordingly. Don’t tell my boss, but I’m pretty sure this takes up the first 20 minutes of my morning each day--about the same time I would require a boyfriend to spend asking how my day way in a nice phone call.

In fantasy football, you can juggle multiple teams. However, doing so in real life leads to getting caught in lies and perhaps blowing your cover by repeating the wrong story to the wrong person. With multiple fantasy teams, you can forget who is on which team and end up unnecessarily rooting for someone you hate or worse, a player on your opponent’s team. Believe me, I wouldn't root for Mark Sanchez if I didn't have to, but accidentally cheering for Santonio Holmes because I can't keep track of my teams? Travesty. Despite this lesson, I will continue to keep all three of my teams each year. After a few weeks I usually rule which one I like best anyways and commit to that one for the rest of the season, making me a one-fantasy-team kind of girl.

And most importantly, no matter what… even if you hand-pick your team and do all of the right things and make all of the right moves, life (and injuries) get in the way and you may still end up on the losing end with a broken heart. Or you could be the defending champion of your family league two years in a row and continue dominating in year three. No wonder I like fantasy so much.

Walk This Way

The Walk to End Alzheimer's was this morning. Although it rained for most of the morning during the walk--causing us all to play game of umbrella up or down? for the entire 3.2 miles--it was a great day.

Here are a few shots I took with my phone during the walk, including our team picture, my "promise flower" that I carried in honor of someone I lost to Alzheimer's disease (each walker got a flower and the color depended on your connection with the disease. Purple meant I lost a loved one), and me propped up against a sign pointing the way to a world without Alzheimer's. I wish it was as easy to get to that place as it was to walk the 3.2 miles. Maybe one day it will be.

A couple highlights of the day:

1. Turning the last corner before the finish line, a local nursing home was camped out and had staff and a few residents cheering on walkers as they passed by. Not that I needed another reminder of why I was walking, but it brought back memories of my own grandparents in their respective nursing homes during their battle with Alzheimer's.

2. As we were getting ready to cross the start line, most walkers "planted" their promise flowers in the ground. It was quite a sight to see--all the colors of the flowers spinning in the wind. As I walked by the garden, the DJ was playing "Stay With You" by the Goo Goo Dolls (one of my favorite bands of all time). Not to sound cheesy, but I felt like maybe my Nana and Papa, who will always stay with me, were watching over me this morning. I kept my promise flower because I wanted it as a reminder of that moment and motivation to continue fighting for the cause.

Thanks again to everyone who supported our team--I was able to raise $715 and our team collected a total of $3,686. Now it's time to write some thank-you notes!

Walking to End Alzheimer's

Hate is a strong word. But I hate Alzheimer’s.

In the last decade, I have not only lost two grandparents, but was forced to watch as they slowly suffered from Alzheimer’s disease.

Watching someone you love gradually disappear physically and cognitively is a painful, prolonged process. While it was hard enough for me to handle, I saw what it did to my parents as they watched their mother and father forget their names and eventually lose all recognition of who they were.

I never want to have to witness this or watch my parents suffer in this way. That is why I have joined a team to fight this awful disease and hopefully someday find a cure. Anything you can give means so much to me, to my family and to my Papa and Nana who both lost a hard-fought battle with Alzheimer’s.

This is why when I found out my friend, Terron, started the Mae Bell Foundation in honor of his grandmother he lost to Alzheimer's ten years ago, I wanted to get as much involved as possible. I started with joining his team and raising money for the Walk to End Alzheimer's, which is tomorrow.

Throughout this process, I have realized that this cause is even closer to my heart than I originally thought. There have been several times when I've talked to people about my Nana and Papa and every time I've gotten choked up remembering their unfortunate exit from this world. Hearing my grandfather remember the German he learned during the war but not our names. Or see my Nana slumped over in her chair speaking gibberish, but always with her fingernails painted. I guess I've blocked out their deaths because it's easier than reliving and remembering the pain.

It's been an emotional month, but I think it's been a good thing for me. It's given me a sense of purpose, that I can help make a difference. It's not like when I raised money running with Tedy's Team--then I just wanted to jacket. This time, I just want a cure. I would like to give a special thanks to all those who contributed to our team and the cause--your support means so much, and not just money-wise.

I will be walking in memory of my Nana and Papa tomorrow, but thinking of them every day for the rest of my life. A life that hopefully someday will not include Alzheimer’s disease. Love you and miss you always.

Nice to Meat You, Brazilian Steakhouse

Last night, a coworker and I went to a Brazilian steakhouse for dinner. I've never been to one before, seeing it's pretty pricey unless you have a buy one/get one special like we had, but I had heard so many delicious details about it.

The way it works is that it's an all-you-can-eat event, starting with an extravagant salad bar. This one included sushi, amazing black beans and beef mix, lobster bisque and a host of cheeses and fresh vegetables like asparagus and artichoke hearts. My coworker asked if it was bad that she didn't have any actual salad on her plate after leaving the salad bar (bar is an understatement--I've been to actual pubs that are smaller than this salad bar area was).

After you munch on your "salad," you flip over your magic card that sends dozens of handsome Brazilian men to your table throughout the night offering you a piece or a slice of 14 different meats (including fillet Mignon wrapped in bacon, regular fillet, Parmesan-crusted chicken and pork, chicken wrapped in bacon, flank steak, sirloin, BBQ pork ribs, beef brisket, a house special meat that was delicious, lamb leg and lamb chops, and more).

It was even more amazing as it sounds.

I mean, all-you-can-eat meat served to me by hot Brazilians? YES PLEASE! Oh, and I forgot to mention the rolls stuffed with cheese, creamy mashed potatoes and cinnamon-sugar bananas (to cleanse the palette between meats to ensure full flavor) that graced the table.

I threw my calorie counting out the window for the night and enjoyed myself to the fullest. Although I'm sure I ate more than I was supposed to, I actually didn't feel that guilty because I was filling up on fresh meat and vegetables and not pizza or pasta for dinner. My only regret is that I wish I could have eaten more! I'd never get my money's worth if I paid full price ($50), so I'll have to wait for another deal to go back. That is if I can stop drooling every time I remember the fillet melting in my mouth...

That's a Latte Calories!

What's the difference between Dunkin' Donuts pumpkin coffee/ pumpkin latte and a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte?

Besides a couple bucks... nothing!

Well, and the fact that Starbucks' version tastes like heaven in a cup and Dunkin' Donuts still manages to make theirs taste like a watered down copycat. However, the calories are the exact same: 260 for a medium with skim milk.

The last couple fall seasons I thought I was saving money and calories by going with the DD pumpkin coffee. I knew there was syrup in it for flavor but never ever considered it contained nearly 300 calories. No wonder I've been tipping the scales--this isn't the first time I've been surprised with the number of calories there was in something I had been eating.

I knew I'd be in trouble this fall when the pumpkin spice latte came out and didn't fit into my diet. The pumpkin-themed drinks hit the stores this week, and because the weather was so fall-like, I couldn't resist the craving for one. So I looked up the calories in the DD coffee--certain this would be a suitable alternative--and was shocked to find that the Starbucks drink, if ordered correctly, would be the better treat. A tall (12 oz.) with skim milk and no whipped cream is 200 calories.

The second I got the drink, my entire week improved. It smelled like fall and holding the warm drink in my hand felt like a big comfy sweater. Then I tasted it. Heaven. It was certainly worth every single calorie. And the extra money.