We're Pimps for Jesus!

I made a solemn oath to my dear friend Mel that I wouldn't talk about work on my blog (well, it wasn't really "solemn" or an "oath" per se, but I made a coment in passing that I wasn't going to talk about the job...anyhoo...). Not because she doesn't want to hear about it, but because it's probably not the most professional thing to do. But, something funny happened yesterday that I thought was blog-worthy.

Random House decided to give all of us employees an internal instant messaging system. It's very convenient, because now I barely ever have to leave my cube (not helping in the exercise department). And sometimes it lends itself to some fun conversations. Like the one Terri and I had yesterday. We were discussing the arrival of two of our authors, Alex and Brett Harris, at our office for a party.

Carly: Hey Terri, are you going to the author reception today?
Terri: Yeah, didn't you hear me practicing my clapping?

Carly: No.

Terri: Are you going?
Carly: Free food, and a chance to get out of my chair. I'm there.

Carly: So how come you were clapping?
Terri: Lindsey (a co-worker) and I do this thing where every time an email comes through about the Harris twins, we clap. We don't really know why, but it seems like everyone else gets excited about them, so we do too.

Carly: Yeah, it's like that on my side of the building too. We seem to put a lot into these guys. I guess they're selling a lot of books!

Carly: Hey, we're kinda like pimps.
Terri:.............Yeah, pimps for Jesus.


So now that I've written this, I've realized that it doesn't sound as funny as it was during the conversation. But I already typed all this stuff, so I'm going to post it anyway. Sorry for the sucky blog. I'll do better next time, I promise!

The San Antonio Spurs and Being Italian

Another random blog, you ask? Nope! I fooled you all! The two subjects of today's blog are definitely linked.

First, the Spurs. Let me give you a quick run-down of my night last night, which started with an afternoon conversation.

Carly: What do you want for dinner tonight, Seth? I think I'll cook something so we don't have to go out to eat again.

Seth: Well, the Spurs are playing tonight.

Carly: Uh-huh...and...?

Seth: Last game we won, we ordered pizza from Louie's, so that's probably good mojo. We should order it again.

Carly: We're going to get fat.

Seth: It's for the Spurs, Carly. Anything for the Spurs.

Carly: Nope. So, how about if I cook something Italian, because that's at least in the same family. And it's likely that if pizza from Louie's brought us good luck, then if I cook Italian food, it'll also be good luck. So I'm going to send you a list of ingredients, you just go ahead and buy what's on the list, and I'll cook us a good-luck Italian meal.

Seth: Ok, if you're sure.

Carly: I'm very sure.

End of phone call. I write all this to say that I like the Spurs a lot. After 2 years of dating a maniacal fan, I've definitely come around. However, I'm a fan in the sense that I watch the games (playoffs only--come on, people, that is a LONG season, so let's be reasonable), I cheer when Manu makes a 3-pointer, and I totally back Timmy up when he flops for the 47th time in a game. However, I am not a fan in the sense that I'll grow a beard because I think it's good luck (this is hypothetical--work with me!), or wear the same shirt for ten days in a row without washing it because they won a game last time I wore it. Seth would and likely has done each of these things, and more. I won't go into it all, because it may frighten you for me. But I really love this about him. In a strange way, it's great to see him so passionate and dedicated. And it's a fun thing that we can enjoy together. Last year, when the Spurs won the National Championship, we went down to San Antonio to celebrate. Here are a couple pictures. It was an awesome trip, and for more reasons than just loving to travel, I hope they beat the Lakers and pull it off again this year so we can go again. Go, SPURS, GO!!!

So, one can reason: if one can become a Spurs fan just by being around someone else who lives and breathes the Spurs, one can also become an Italian by being inundated with Italian heritage, food, and lifestyle from the time they are born. Am I right, or am I right??

My step-great-grandpa was Italian. Straight from Italy. He was around for the first 6 years of my life, and as weird as it sounds, I remember him pretty well! He talked with a funny accent, and he made really, really good food. My large (in numbers, not in girth!), boisterous family, half of whom are Italian thanks to great-grandpa LaRosa, had tons of family get togethers, where all sorts of Italian dishes would be served. From a big pot of spaghetti and meatballs to delish Italian sausage and pepper sandwiches, we had it all.

While my dad wasn't one of the lucky ones to have the Italian gene passed down to him (my grandma was born before her mom married Grandpa LaRosa), he always told me, "Carly, we may not be Italians in our blood, but we're Italian at heart." Thank you, Dad. I believe and embrace that, no matter how many times Seth points out that I'm Croatian and should stop pretending to be Italian.

The end. Comments please! :)

P.S. Here is a picture of me being a good Italian girl

Surfing in Colorado

So here you have it--my very own blog! And you, dear reader, are now reading my first post. I actually don't have much of anything to say at the moment. I just wanted to fit in amongst all of my blogging friends and have something to contribute to future conversations that involve the word "blog."

Oh yeah, I titled my blog "Riding the Waves," which is funny since there is NO WATER whatsoever in this crazy state (more on my feelings about Colorado later). But I have reasons for naming it that:
a. I love the ocean and all things water-related. Body surfing, wake-boarding, swimming, wake-surfing, etc--it's ALL good. And I especially love the tan you get while having so much fun...not to mention the great workout! But I digress...
b. I think my life is like riding waves on my boogie board. Only my boogie boards in life are the people I'm around and the situations in which I find myself. Sometimes the ride is scary, sometimes it's rough, sometimes it's smooth and fun, and sometimes it makes me laugh out loud with carefree abandon. But it is never, ever boring.
c. Did I mention that I'm a FISH?

Ok, well that's all I've got for you right now. I'll try to think of something else to write about! Until then,
-Carly