Tinsel Teeth


Part two of my mouth saga continues. This week I journeyed into my orthodontist’s office for the bottom set of braces. It’s best to get my bottom teeth exactly where they need to be, in order to help my top set along.

I’ve been trying to embrace this whole ordeal as some sort of delayed adolescence, so I’ve refused to to get worked up about anything or research the process endlessly like I’m prone to do.

What to expect:
– Polish and mouth grit (much like the dentist)
– UV lights (much like the nail salon, but on your teefuses)
– Bondo (yuck!)
– Brackets (glued to your teeth…wha?)
– Bands (in all colors imaginable)
– The feeling of something stuck in your teeth (for instance…braces)
– Itchy Teeth (from tooth movement and metal items adhered to your mouth)

To be honest, it’s not all that bad. I’m not keen on the idea of being Metal Mouth for the next 1.5 years, but I do look forward to being the brightest smile in the room (whether it’s from the reflection of metal remains to be seen).

I can’t complain though, this is after all, a first world problem: The bruised ego of a working professional adult who can afford dental care. Besides, if you haven’t heard, this look is all the rage in Asia.


Cupcake McFrosticles


Last week, I thought I would be productive and change my name officially after 5 months of marriage. It’s surprising how easy it is to do. No one questions your sanity, your motives or your name (and it’s FREE!)

I really considered changing it to something involving cupcakes and She-Ra right there on the spot. The only thing stopping me was all the subsequent paperwork I would have to complete to do so: taxes, bank accounts, etc.

With common sense dominating the greater part of my morning, I changed only my last name to include a hyphen and my new married name. And keep in mind, when I say common sense, I mean, there has to be a grander way to shame my whole family. A social security card isn’t one of them.

Regardless of practical revenge grounding my name musings, I walk up to the counter, paperwork in hand, and promptly pass the clerk my Living Social cupcake coupon.


It’s soon apparent that I need to clean my purse, and my Id is sabotaging any efforts from my Super Ego to retain some level of normalcy. Luckily, I DID have the correct paperwork in hand, but I still felt a fool. A cupcake lovin’, disorganized fool. Luckily still, they let me change my name regardless of my mental level of output for the day.

So, Social Security Office, thank you.

Princess of Cupcake-Power



Obviously, Tucson was subjected to an enormous tragedy this weekend. It’s difficult to put into words all the feelings, emotions, thoughts, shock, panic and heartbreak that are occurring simultaneously. Unfortunately, the healing process is being overshadowed and drowned out by the deafening noise of political pundits. So I won’t even touch that topic here or discuss all else that has gone wrong in the wake of this event. I refuse to add to the noise. My focus is elsewhere…

But I will say this: I’m incredibly proud to live in Tucson. The heroes who reacted in such selfless and brave ways to minimize more loss at this tragic event, are nothing short of angels. Since that awful day, I’ve witnessed an outpouring of love, sympathy, and empathy throughout the Tucson community as we band together to make sense of all that is senseless.

This laid-back town of Sonoran hot dogs, killer cacti and cowboy boots, is right where I belong. I stand with the victims. I stand with their heartbreak. And I stand with all of Tucson because there is always an opportunity to rise from the ashes, heal, and become stronger than ever before. So let’s be stronger.

This is my Tucson. And I love it.

Ok – enough words, time for action.



It started out as a romantic, belated birthday retreat, but culminated with a new exciting chapter in my life. This weekend, Graeme and I spent a day at Starr Pass Resort, living it up and indulging ourselves in their amazing amenities. After a relaxing (and at times, not-so-relaxing) massage in the local spa, we had a delicious and perfect dinner at one of their restaurants.

From start to finish the day was incredible (yes, even with the record-breaking 109 temperatures).  After dinner we headed up to our room where upon entering I noticed a bottle of champagne was waiting for us.

“Yay! Birthday champagne!”

It wouldn’t be a day with Trish if I didn’t jump to conclusions. Graeme smiled, pulled a box from his pocket and said, “No, I ordered the champagne because I would like to-”

*SQUEAL* jumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjump

(Apparently, conclusions aren’t the only thing I jump to)

He didn’t have to finish his sentence and I didn’t have to speak human. We both knew what the other meant.

So Graeme and I are officially betrothed, and I couldn’t be happier.

I’ll post more details soon (rings, photos, ideas, frustrations, and additional incorrect conclusions), but for now I’m enjoying our moment.

Will there be ponies?!


In my seemingly unending quest to find gainful employment, I thought I would try out the Tucson Job Fair. Heck, by the name alone, this could be pretty fun. Cotton candy! Rides! Prizes! And most importantly, jobs! What could go wrong at the fair?

I quickly researched all the insider tips on how to make myself noticed above and beyond the other job seekers in order to snag my dream gig. One professional outfit, ten resumes and my thirty-second personal commercial were at the ready to sucker-punch the most unsuspecting employer.

*POW* The hiring manager rubs their eyes and wonders, “What was that?…And who is this magnificently qualified damsel? Surely it must be an angel!”

My dazzling resume and credentials would be blinding. Tears of joy would flow freely from their awe-struck eyes. I would be the answer to all of their hiring needs.

::cue inspiring choir::

I trekked Downtown with my weapons in hand. The traffic was at a standstill as hundreds sought out the all-elusive job. This, however, was a fine time to sharpen my thirty-second commercial with my mental thesaurus. By the way, thirty seconds is hardly enough time to cover all my marvelous qualities (::ahem:: potential employers).

Upon entering the Tucson Convention Center, I was struck by the unending snake of people. Where did it begin and where did it end? I cut through the belly of the beast to find someone in charge.


No one.

I wandered around for a bit slightly bewildered by the sheer number of people in attendance. Several thousand. Easy. They must have detected the siren call of the cotton candy as well.

I finally spotted a carny….er, job fair employee who pointed me to the end of the line. It’s obvious I’d be standing there a while, so I took the time to size up my competition. There were a few sharply dressed folk, but for the most part, people were dressed fairly casually. Almost as if they were dressed for a fair. However, it was just reassurance that my fabulous attire would guarantee I was tall enough to ride any ride.

Thirty minutes passed before I even caught a glimpse of the mayhem that awaited me beyond the quadruple doors. It was packed inside. Not just packed, but jam-packed. Not just jam-packed, but packed to the point of slightly throwing the Earth off it’s axis.

That’s when I started to sweat. Not from the surrounding body heat, but from anxiety. I quickly ran over the Stuart Smalley affirmation, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!”

I repeated this up until the point I was shoulder checked. I instantly snapped back to reality and remembered my mission. I wiggled my way up to my first employer of choice.

“Hi! My name is Patri-”

Shoulder checked again.

“I saw your postings onlin-”

Briefcase in the back. Felt like brown leather maybe?

“…and applied last week. I wanted to foll-”

No shoulder checking. Just an interruption…from the recruiter. “You can find our postings online. You can also check your status there.”

“Oh, I know! I just wante-”

A flyer was shoved in my hand. “You’ll have to check online.”

They wanted nothing to do with me. I was taken aback momentarily, but quickly recovered my determination. Off to conquer the next ride! This was their loss. There were over a hundred employers in attendance, I had bigger fish to fry. I squirmed through the crowd over to the next booth.

“Hi, I wa-”

Another flyer was shoved in my hand by the recruiter as they said, “You can apply online.”

It was the same song and dance at each and every booth. I prepped for half a day, slogged my way through traffic for over an hour and braved varicose veins while standing in line for forty-five minutes only to receive flyers instructing me to visit their websites! Where was my job? Where were my accolades? Where was my cotton candy?

No, no, no! There was nothing fair about this fair at all!

I left dejected. I waged the majority of my tickets on the biggest prize at the fair and lost. I walked away empty-handed with nothing to show for my efforts (except for several flyers and a few Samsonite logo-shaped bruises that were starting to form).

I wasted several valuable hours that would have been better spent searching for jobs elsewhere. Each day that passes without a job, I feel as though I’m slipping further and further behind. I was sure this fair would be two steps forward in the right direction. In the end, however, I was lucky if it was three steps backwards. This seemed closer to some awkward side-step motion mixed with a quasi-fumble in which I sprain my ankle. Which, in reality, is how I really look on the dance floor.

All in all? Lesson learned. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

And it was.

1/20 of actual attendees.

1/20 of actual attendees.