Monthly Archives: January 2012

Ode to the Birthday Cake

If there is something that I cannot fake

It is my love for birthday cake!

Vanilla frosting & yellow cake is what I’m talkin’ about

“YOU ARE DELICIOUS” from the rooftops I do shout

You won’t get a piece if you arrive tardy

Here I am chowin’ down at my 4th birthday party

The homemade version is good, but I prefer from a bakery

If it doesn’t come in a white cardboard box, I call it fakery!

An inch of frosting in between each layer

I sink my teeth in like a birthday cake slayer

And don’t forget the flowers, those are a must

Without the decor, the dessert is a bust!

364 days for this treat I wait

It really is the ideal way to celebrate!

Pour some skim milk or a glass of champagne

As long as I have cake, I cannot complain

Bakers start baking, we’re only 2 weeks away

From February 10th-my 30th birthday!!!


It’s In My Genes

There are tons of traits from my parents that you can see in me.  I have the familial “not-so-small” tush, the long ovangularly shaped face, and the skills to pack carry-on only for a week long trip to Europe.  I also inherited my love for sleep-away camp.  You see, my parents met at my beloved summer home-which makes me love it just that much more!!

i'm convinced that my dna is shaped like my camp's council ring

Growing up, my sister and I would listen to stories about summers spent in the Adirondacks.  We knew both the girls AND boys camp’s alma maters and sang them frequently.  We only listened to James Taylor and Joni Mitchell (sleep-away camp staples) in the house. We watched Meatballs and thought it was the story of how our parents met.   We wore our parents’ old camp t-shirts with their name tapes still sewn into the collar. We were literally raised to love camp.  So, it should’ve been no surprise to my parents that Katie and I each remained at camp for 13 years!

For my parents, visiting day each summer was more than just seeing their kids that they shipped off to upstate NY for 2 months.  It was about re-visiting their childhood.  We would go bunk to bunk looking for plaques with their names on it.  We’d head to the arts & crafts shack to see my mom’s name still painted on the rafters.  We sat in the social hall where my mom and I both were in performances of “The Sound Of Music”.  We ‘d go to the boys camp during free play so my dad could shoot hoops.  We ran into their old campers/counselors/camp friends and play several games of remember when.  My dad…the man who only likes to be called David not Dave, would respond to people calling him “Robo”.  Was this an alternate universe? No, this was camp.

color war banners by mom

Being an alumni kid was pretty cool, too! When families would come to tour camp, my sister and I were usually a highlighted attraction as “products of camp love”.  When I would get homesick, I could look around the dining room and spot a color war banner with my mom’s signature painted in the corner.  The first summer I was a counselor, I was assigned to a bunk  almost ENTIRELY of alumni kids-one of who’s father claims responsibility for the introduction of my ‘rents. When I got home from camp, my parents actually UNDERSTOOD the stories I would tell them about how close the bucket brigade was or how beautiful the sunset would be behind the mountains.

Now that my camp friends and I are in the “radius of 30”, some of them are starting to have future campers of their own.  As each of these babies are born, we like to discuss who will be in a bunk with whom.  We like to think about the other alumni parents that my friends will be spending many visiting days with.  We like to imagine who’s babies are going to find their soul mates at a social in the hockey rink.

camp girls. past and present

I can’t wait to have a mini-camper of my own!  And when I do, I would like to say this to them:  Don’t think it’s weird that mommy sings made up songs to you about the “Cavemen of Cornell” and not “Twinkle Twinkle”.  Don’t get upset that the kitchen is closed on Wednesdays and I insist on weekly bar-b-ques.  Know that wearing blue and white every Friday night is super chic.  It isn’t embarrassing that I only listen (and sing) to Indigo Girls when I drive carpool.  And when the rest of your friends are hanging out at the local pool all summer, know that I have sent you to the best place on earth.  Hey kiddo, I can’t help it.  It’s in my genes and in yours too!

T-Minus 30

Holy sh*tballs!! We are in the home stretch people!! Only 30 more days until I am 30 years old.  Thirty.  How did this happen? How are we here already? How fast did this year go?!

Last year at this time I was prepping for a work event at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City as well as preparing to work at the Super Bowl in Dallas.  Two events I had never been to and both required about 2000% of my attention. I was a package of stress and anxiety wrapped up in a pretty bow of fear.  I ran on manic bursts of energy that would end in a puddle of tears.  Awesome. Clearly I wasn’t my best self, but I was employed, busy, and not to mention in a relationship-so I thought I was on the right life path.  Welp, let’s fast forward 365 days to today.  I am unemployed, single, and my blackberry calendar is unfortunately not filled with the star studded events of yesteryear. Boy, has my life path taken an unexpected detour or what?!

I thought I needed all of these things that defined me.  I was an “event coordinator” and a “girlfriend” and a “total wackjob”.  I spent all day every day worrying about everyone else but myself.  From being overly obsessed with choosing the correct linens for a client welcome dinner to painstakingly trying to execute perfectly timed airport pick-ups to trying to find spare time to spend with my boyfriend there was ZERO time spent thinking about myself.  I became bitchy (well more bitchy than normal), irritable, tired, and 10lbs heavier than I wanted to be.  Bad news bears.

Now, remember when I was laid off in July and people said it was a blessing in disguise?! Well now I can certainly say it has been. I’ve had 6 months to do a little “road work” on my life path.  Instead of being concerned with what everyone else needs-I have finally been able to focus on myself.  I used to think that it was selfish to put myself first.  Now I think it is  I do what makes ME happy.  I’m doing more cooking. I’m seeing my friends more often.  I’m getting back to the gym. I’m blogging.  I’m honing in on what I truly want from a career.  I’m laughing…a lot.  I’m learning what it takes to take care of me!

So now, here I am.  30 days left in my 20s and feeling pretty fabulous about it AND myself. Not saying everyone should up and leave their current jobs or relationships -but I would highly recommend trying to find your best self.  Everything DOES, in fact, happen for a reason.  I think the construction on this part of my life path is complete.  It’s time to take down the detour signs, head off the service roads, and drive straight on.  Exit 30 here I come!!

The Duchess of the Upper East Sidefordshire

Duchess Rebecca

I am not a jealous person…well not THAT jealous.  I don’t fill with fury when I see someone wearing a fabulous Missoni sweater when I am wearing my Missoni for Target cardi.  I don’t fall into a tailspin when I see someone getting a promotion at work when I’m still career hunting.  I don’t discontinue my Facebook account because I see yet another one of my friends gets engaged, married, or has a baby.  I am genuinely happy for those people.  Yet, there is one person in this world that makes my blood boil like hot lava exploding out of a volcano…KATE MIDDLETON.

Okay, I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but that is what is so charming about me…I embrace my complete ridiculousness.  Let’s start from the beginning.  Most 14 year olds in 1996 were obsessed with JTT or Devon Sawa.  I, on the other hand, was obsessed with Prince William.  And by obsessed I mean I had a 5 foot poster of him blown up on my bedroom wall.  I cut as many pictures out of him from any magazine I could find and taped them into a collage-like design directly above my bed at home (and had a smaller version to bring to camp).  I even kept a blank tape in the VCR to record any and all television segments about him.  In my life I have been to London 5 times, including two spring breaks during college AND studying abroad for a semester my Junior year.  And each and every time I go, I make a serious attempt in locating Prince William.  I will also admit that I went to Edinburgh for a weekend when I was abroad because that is where he went to University.   To no avail…I have never found him.  And unfortunately for me, the housing office at Edinburgh University made it much easier Kate Middleton to meet her prince.

my prince william poster

I know in real life there was no shot in h*ll that I was going to actually meet, fall in love, and marry Prince William-but ugh, it would’ve been just great if I could have, right?!?!  And lets also be honest here, Kate and I are “similar”.  Both fair skinned brunettes with light eyes.  Both middle named Elizabeth (though I’m with an S not a Z).  Both can TOTES rock a shift dress.  Both have worked in event planning in past career lives.  There was even a rumor that she may or may not be partially Jewish!  She is basically me with a British accent. HA!

So like here’s the deal…when the tabloids broke the news that Prince William had a girlfriend that he was LIVING with-my heart broke a little bit.  When I heard that they’d broken up-I researched cheap flights to London (I mean, I would NOT have been upset to be the rebound girl).  When I saw on tv they had gotten back together at the Princess Diana Memorial concert-I had to stop watching.  But when they got engaged-that’s when I knew jealousy was rearing it’s ugly uncrowned head.  I woke up that fateful morning to a text message from my friend saying “I’m so sorry for your loss.  Prince William is engaged”.  And then I cried.  And I kept crying right through the months leading up to the wedding.  Then at 4:30am on that fateful Friday in April-I bawled my eyes out.  (The sight of her dress alone sent me into a whirlwind of emotion)

Crushing my heart

Yes, I am jealous of Kate Middleton.  She’s married my teenage Prince Charming.  She gets to wear a crown. Her body is rocking and every piece of clothing looks impeccable on her.  She is a REAL LIVE PRINCESS!  Here is what I am not jealous of.  She has to lead her millions of loyal subjects and her every move is scrutinized by the public eye.  I only have to lead 3 loyal subjects (my stuffed animals) and the only people who scrutinize my every move are my mom and dad.  She loses weight and people think she is “too stressed out”.  I lose weight and people high five me and tell me “way to go”!  The best part of it all?!  Today, the Duchess of Cambridge turns the big 3-0, while I, the self proclaimed Duchess of the Upper East Sidefordshire am still hanging on to my 20s!!

I know one day I will meet my real life prince charming.  Though most likely he won’t be an ACTUAL prince, he is going to treat me like a princess.  In the mean time, Prince William, if you are ever looking for a rounder, less proper, and YOUNGER version of your current duchess-I’m just a hop, skip, plane, and short cab ride away 🙂  The Upper East Sidefordshire welcomes you with open arms!!

The Cheese Doesn’t Stand Alone

Twelve years ago, when writing my college application essay, I theorized that if Judy Blume were to write a tween novel about my life it would be called “The Cheese Stands Alone”.  Yes, it was a slightly pointed title that should have caught the attention of a certain “dairy-centric” school in the Midwest, but in the years leading up to my college career it was true.  Persevering through whatever life was throwing out at me, I was the modern major general in a one man army in the fight for Rebecca.

Not saying I didn’t have friends and I was a loner, but I subscribed to the idea of pulling myself up by my own bootstraps.  I believed if there is a fight to fight -I am the best person to be on the front lines.  When I  would be made fun of me in high school, I didn’t pretend I was sick the next day…I went right back to school.  When I was “bullied” by bunkmates at camp, I didn’t ask to switch bunks…I just kept going back summer after summer. When I was knocked down in life’s proverbial ditch, I just dusted myself off and scaled my way back out.This theory was actually proven true through my post-college acceptance life also.  Even though I had MORE friends and a larger support system, I still didn’t want to rely on anyone else.  My problems were my problems and the only person who could have the correct solution was obviously going to be me.

2011 though, has thrown this theory for a loop–last year’s ditches were more like meteor-sized craters.  Firstly, as you all know from my first blog entry, that I lost my job in July.  Super scary and unexpected and something that I didn’t learn how to handle at Rebecca’s Army Boot Camp.  Knowing deep down inside there was going to be some way to get myself out of this hole, I called my friends to let them know what had happened.  As I spoke to them, they insisted that I shouldn’t spend the night alone and the best weapons for this new battle I was about to fight were them and a dirty martini (extra dirty, 3 olives).  Usually the lone ranger, I was not used to planning my war games with others-but I have to admit that the fight has been easier to fight because my friends didn’t let me fall so far into the ditch.

The second one, I am sorry readers, but it is one I have kept a secret from you.  My boyfriend (of 2.5 years) and I broke up.  In respecting him and our relationship, I didn’t want to take to the blog and publicize immediately what had happened.  I also think it was just too hard for me to see in print.  But there it is.  Not going into too many (if any) details, but I had been unhappy.  I didn’t tell anyone and it was building up inside of me.  And at lunch one gloomy November Thursday with my mom and sister, with one simple question from my mom, it all came spilling out like verbal “rhea” if-you-will.   But once it was out in the air, it was as if I had already felt better.  Once it was over and done, I had again called my friends to just fill them in on what was happening.  When I was able to finally reach my first friend (it was like 3:30pm so everyone was clearly at work) the conversation went something like this: Me: Are you around this weekend? Friend: I think so, why? Me: Well, X and I just broke up, so I think I’m going to need someone to hang out with. Friend: This weekend?!!?!! Are you home?? I’m going to get on a train and can be at your apartment in about an hour.  An HOUR!  And that wasn’t even the end of it.  That day, nay, the next 72 hours were a constant revolving door of friends coming over, inviting me to their apartments, calling me, going for dinners/brunches/movies/manicures.  I even had a friend who was texting me late into that first night because, surprisingly, the hardest part about breaking up was not having anyone to say goodnight to.  I didn’t even have time to fall into the ditch this time because everyone was already in place to catch me!

It has been 12 years since I first stated my “cheese stands alone” theory and I am actually THRILLED  to realize that I was wrong (for the first time in my life ;-))!! I certainly, undoubtedly, without question am not better at battling any of life’s quagmires by myself.  It doesn’t mean I’m not as strong and brave as I once thought I was–I think it is BRAVER to reach out and find support.  I’m now even more prepared for what 2012 is going to throw my way.  And let’s be honest, a hunk of cheese on a plate all alone is kinda lame…it’s better together with friends on a platter!!