Taking the easy way out

and posting photos. so this post equals 10,000 words!

in short: the trip was incredible. thanks mom and dad for a great christmas present!a cute picture of the gato grabbing the shoes i need in mallorca. he's such a good pudnow!

Patagonia = Perfection

words cannot describe the pristine beauty of this place.
i can´t believe how wonderful it is...
feliz navidad.

I´m here!

and it´s 80 degrees. and light until 9.
i heart argentina!
i had a decent flight courtesy of some magical spanish sleeping pill. it would have been better except for the poor parenting. i don´t get it. can you please tell your kid to shut up at 3 a.m. on a plane full of sleeping people ´(i can´t find the question mark key or i´d type it). anyway, i hate it when parents don´t ask their kids to be more polite in the name of ´´not stifling junior´s creativity.´´ to that i say boo.
more when i get a faster computer
i heart argentina!

Finally...no more finals!

I fired off my last obligation of the 2008 school year tonight. I'm looking forward to some relaxation on the plane to Argentina...then a day in Buenos Aires by myself. Followed by a backpacking adventure with la familia Lozano in Patagonia.

Oh wait, I already posted about that. Just an attempt, really, to make my New Jersey friends jealous.

At any rate, I will miss being home in VA. The past weekend was full of some fun:

Jonny picking up my shoes from downstairs. I tell him that the number of shoes I leave downstairs measures how much I love him. I love him a lot!

The Peahen and Jonny oogling a cycling video while Ian photographs their collective cracks. Only The Peahen can rock women's jeans and look so fine.

Gina and Alasdair, some of my favorite classmates, on our final Friday gathering in 2008. Gina is moving to Houston after graduation, so I'm overjoyed to have a good girlyfriend so close (in Texas-speak, anyway). Alasdair, on the other hand, is enjoying the rather ridiculous visa restrictions of US-based companies (can we say "cop out"?). Though the "no foreigners" rule takes a convenient chunk from a candidate pool (and therefore less people you have to turn down after interviewing), it is freakin lame. A tough economy shouldn't grant an excuse to avoid seeking diverse talent. Hell, you need them the most now!

Word has it that MBA kids are treated similarly to temporary workers here in the United States; aiming to escape poverty in their home country. Umm...hello. I've never met a foreign-born MBA student who's impoverished. But whatever, America.

Wendy Huber, my champ and advocate in Darden Admissions, graciously gave Jonny and I this yummy wedding cake. Awww...!

If I can update from Argentina, I shall! Stay tuned...and patient.

Patagonia, suckahs!

I'm headed here this week. The Lozano familia has decided Christmas during a South American summer beats Home on the Range. This year, anyway.
Dad called me last week and let me know that it is less like a spa vacation and more like Outward Bound. My brain (melted from a combination of no exercise, finals, and procrastination) wasn't ready for that, but thank heavens for all the gear I've acquired over the years. I'll be quite colorful and warm. Thanks, pro cycling!
Now, some images to assure you that I'll reward my loyal readers with pics of my own when the interwebz allows!

PS: I will feel like a complete hosebag because some of my gear says "Patagonia" on it without really earning it. I love yuppie gifts.

Brain...melting

Though the first year of your MBA is a biatch...the second year doesn't get much easier. What sucks the most is that it has the perception of being easier because it is more flexible. It's like suddenly you get thrown from the military into an internet startup. Strange. Your schedule is your own after a year of allowing yourself to be told what to do every 15 minutes. But you trust the process. You really do.

In light of this difficulty of second year, my posts have descended into madness. Case in point.

I am posting pictures that I find funny instead of writing anything of substance. (thanks, toothpaste and superpoop)

And pictures of a boy I find cuter than cute.

(thanks, www.pilderwasser.com)

I hope to pull my intelligence out of the pits of despair by this evening and write about something worthwhile.

Until then, enjoy.

And Second Year Gods: I see through your tomfoolery! Darden is still hard!

Prom time!

The Darden Prom was held last night at the Doubletree. They won't let us get so silly on grounds, I guess.

I waged war with a straightening iron.

Jonny's thumb keeps him from shaving. Which is rather fetching, actually. Here he is with mancrush Alexander Boyatt.Our little Belgian Henri attempted to nom nom on the gingerbread house.

In all, a great night!

(pic of hawtties by Jessica Roeder)

Never

"Converging on these towns, relos have segregated themselves, less by the old barriers of race, religion, and national origin than by age, family status, education, and, especially, income. Families with incomes of $100,000 head for subdivisions built entirely of $300,000 houses; those earning $200,000 trade up to subdivisions of $500,000 houses. Isolated, segmented, and stratified, these families are cut off from the single, the gay and the gray, and, except for those tending them, anyone from lower classes.
"Unlike their upper-middle-class kindred - the executives, doctors, and lawyers who settle down in one place - relos forgo the old community props of their class: pedigree and family ties; seats on the vestry and the hospital board; and the rituals, like charity balls. Left with the class's emblematic cars, Lilly Pulitzer skirts and Ralph Lauren shirts, their golf, tennis, and soccer, and, most conspicuously, their houses, they have staked out their place and inflated the American dream.
"'What is the American dream?' said Karen Handel, chairwoman of the Fulton County Commission in Alpharetta. 'It's to have a house of your own, the biggest house you can afford, on the biggest lot you can afford, with a great school for your kids, a nice park to spend Saturday afternoons with your kids in, and deep in amenities that get into the trade-offs with traffic.'"
-Class Matters, by correspondents of The New York Times

This

Will

Never

Be

Me

Calling Tammy Faye Baker

Some days I feel like an evangelical lunatic, one botox-foreheaded, polyester suit-wearing and falsely-tanned husband away from being on those triple-digit channels spouting about the coming Rapture. During which all Humvee-driving fools will be swept into the smokestacks of Owens-Corning and slowly incinerated amid glass insulation fibers.
This might be one of those days. A few weeks ago I blogged about Garrett Hardin and his wise words on population growth, the tragedy of the commons, and our contribution to the demise of a planet humans want to live on (let's leave out the fact that I'm not sure we are any more deserving of a species for perpetuation than the fruitfly and frankly the fruitfly can survive much better than us fragile nancypantses).
This week Professor Landel has done it again and assigned a reading from The Sustainability Institute on leverage points in systems dynamics and how we can use our understanding of systems to affect profound change.
Ever since that epiphanous (made that word up) day running in the Oregon woods in December of 2005, I have been seeking numbers 1 & 2 & 3 on Donella Meadows' list without wavering. Sure, I'll spend plenty of times on numbers 4-12, with special emphasis on 9-12 as most junior-level marketers do (and appropriately so).
In my mind's eye it's always been 1 & 2 & 3. I just didn't know it by name until now. And no, I don't think aspiring for those three points makes me any more or less cool. It's just that important to me.
"Hallelujah Amerikkuh! I have seen the light and it's name is..."
(Never mind. Just read it.)

A confession

I admit it. I have terrible feet. Wide, flat, and huge.

I seem to have inherited all of the bad foot genetics from both sides of the family (Though the freakishly-large size of my clodhoppers seems to come from some 3rd cousins once-removed I don't know about). If I were to mainline some HGH I'd pass up my father's shoe size in a matter of days.

I keep my toenails painted all pretty for the occasional traipse through airport security, but generally refrain from wearing open, flat shoes. It accentuates that I look like an aquatic bird (who, ironically, hates water).

Unfortunately for runners like me, we can't shop in the sexy section. No Nikes, Adidas, Pumas, or Kahrus. Since 1999, I've been swiping my credit card for Asics Gel Foundation IIs, size "huge". Always $85-$100, and never on sale. Perfect for overpronating and unsexy clydesdale types. Ugh.

But due to the minute and silent population of over-pronators who require motion-control shoes that go long miles, Asics has ditched my beloved Gel Foundation IIs in favor of the more moderate Gel Foundation 7s.

What is the point, you ask?

Getting there. Promise.

After 9 years on the Asics wagon, I am now a Brooks girl. Ariels, to be exact. Still size "huge". In fetching neon green and silver. The gracefulness of the name "Ariel" deceives me momentarily into thinking I have lovely and small feet like my sister (she has all the luck!) and can wear runners that have a ghost of a chance of being discounted. $117, ouch!This is the most revealing picture of my feet I'll allow.

But, as Jonny says, I'd rather have great hair and hideous feet than the other way around.

No Pilgrims, just Mexican

Jonny and I have a mutual tradition of ignoring what 99% of America is up to during "holidays". Black Friday is a great time to sit on the sidewalk and laugh at the plebes rushing to Wallyworld. Who on earth held a gun to their head and told them they must buy presents as an expression of their love? What a dumb rule. Buying presents is the easy part. Being genuinely loving and supportive on days not recognized by Hallmark? Hard.

Today we decided to uphold one great American tradition: ripping off other cultures' holidays. Instead of stuffing some poor fowl, we made a mole dinner. From scratch. So tasty! Below are pictures of the tortilla-making adventure including our homemade tortilla press: two cutting boards and a Lodge cast iron skillet. With this rate of ingenuity we will take over the world by next Tuesday.

We had Mohnish over to enjoy our version of Giving Thanks (the posed pic is for you, Mom).

James came over a bit later and introduced me to the best combo ever: Heinz ketchup + Wavy Lay's.

My record is broken

Same stuff, I know, I know. But I find it important to constantly acknowledge the GOOD that came out of industrialized farming and the loads of other niceties we possess because of the industrial and agricultural "revolutions" of the past 150 years. Pretty easy to cast stones and propose blind solutions that pay no respect to what has come before us and that so many innovations came from the best intentions. I think it helps us meet in the middle to do so.
Thanks, Rancho Cappuccino:
"This is no chicken-little scenario. Agribusiness is not destroying the human habitat (although it probably could, given time). We need to give due credit to the architects of the first “green revolution.” The benefits of agricultural productivity are real. We have fed a lot more people than would have been possible without technology. But a lot of people believe that the world would be a better place if we re-focused agricultural priorities on local food, environmental preservation and healthy farmers.
Agriculture’s green revolution underlines in a powerful way this basic biological fact: We live at the expense of other creatures. Every living thing does. We can, through symbiotic relationships or good husbandry, cooperate with other creatures to increase biological productivity overall, but at the end of the day if we disappeared, other living things would take advantage of the resources we no longer consumed.
And because I am alive — because you are alive — a lot of other creatures never get the chance to live. "

Bike Prom 2008

awesome party. great dj. free beer.that's el gato and ian making out in a rickshaw

i did a stint behind the bar.god bless happy rickshaw.

The Peahen

the peahen is pretty much the coolest cat on the eastern seaboard. fitting, since the ayers introduced us. the peahen's wisdom surpasses 3 darden mbas + 1 m.d. at johns hopkins +a year in the peace corps + an online ordination. especially late on saturday night after cocktails at bang! the peahen is never referred to without the article "the". he is always "the peahen".

"Anything that comes from an indigenous population is usually assimilated by hippies." -the peahen

examples include: smelling badly, having no money, looking like you are starving, begging for money, free tibet stickers, quinoa, clogs, petitions, westfalias
photo cred of: friend-of-the-peahen

look out, ladies. the peahen is the sassiest professor in the r.va.

meow

Narcolepsy IS genetic

Last night Lizzie B., Gato, and I watched the premiere of Twilight. Screaming 'tweens abounded.
Sadly, I fell asleep toward the end.
Damnit!

It seems I've inherited my sister's affliction. She has a habit of falling asleep if left alone for more than 5 minutes. On a couch, in a car, in a movie, near or far...(thanks, Dr. Seuss)
I attribute it to her ability to work 25 hours a day. We Lozano women have a ridiculous capacity for immense workloads. My mother, despite being her own boss for the past 35 years, works herself to death on a daily basis, often citing the amorphous reasoning of "I have so much to do..."
Coming by it honestly: still not an excuse for being ridiculously exhausted and snippy.
Poor Gato.

Blatant advertisement

For Excedrin.

I had a headache 10 minutes ago.

I popped two Excedrin.

The headache is gone.

I love living in the 21st century.

My parents, on the other hand, belong to a strange cult that doesn't believe in painkillers. They might have some Advil that expired in 1995, but that's about it.

Rub some dirt on it.

Garrett Hardin was pretty much the man

The words of this sage man continue to impress. I am sure you can argue against a lot of what he says, but on what grounds? His works point out that many become defensive of his teachings because of their taboos on religion, reproduction, socialism, Marxism, and free enterprise.

To those inclined to hate business school students, I caution you. There is some incredible work being done in the halls of our schools to address the crises confronting us today. We owe a lot to Professor Robert Landel, an influential advisor to industry. Systems thinking makes all the sense in the world to me, and I talked about it a bit in last week's Wall Street Journal.
Why am I going to work for a company that many could argue feeds the very evils of which Hardin speaks? Because I believe that the solution lies in part within business and enterprise. Change on a mass scale can radiate from operational change. I choose to believe that.
Simple solution? Probably not.
Easy solution? Doubtful.
A solution? Definitely.

"The necessity to take the industrial world of growth to its next stage of evolution is not a disaster, it is an opportunity. How to seize the opportunity, how to bring into being a sustainable world that is not only functional but desirable is a question about leadership and ethics and vision and courage. Those are properties not of technologies, markets, governments, corporations, or computer models, but of the human heart and soul."
–Donella Meadows et al., Beyond the Limits (1992)

OMG!

don't try this at home. or in america.
someone will get sued.

Sometimes

I think advertising agencies aren't in it for the right reasons:

Army National Guard "Warrior" Aug 08 Gateway Video @ Yahoo! Video

Because if anything makes you want to join the National Guard it's the logical combination of Kid Rock and Jr.

Seriously...

Here is your tall decaf screw the earth latte

I try. I really do.
Every time I go to Starbucks, I bring in my mug. I am rather militant about Jonny doing the same. He hates my nagging but I know Mamma Terra appreciates it in the end.
We were cruising home on Sunday from a weekend racing in New Jersey. Let me clarify: Jonny raced. I cheered then cheered him up as best I could when he broke his hand on Saturday.
Sunday was spent at the goose-poop riot that is HPCX, put on by the fantastic Rutgers Cycling Team. They even raked the freakin leaves off the course. Now THAT'S hospitality.
On our way home, after giving half our life savings to the NJ Turnpike, we hit up a "tourist center" in search of warm liquid treats. Jonny brought in his mug and I mine.
We queued right up, ordered our drinks, and watched as the barrista took Jonny's mug and filled with coffee. She then took my mug (okay, I bet she hated me anyway, since it said "Darden"), placed it inside a paper latte cup, then wrote my name on the cup.
I was served my latte not only in my mug, but inside of a paper cup inside of my mug.
I was speechless.
I turned around, walked away, and muttered "I'm trying to save the damn planet and you give me a latte in a paper cup INSIDE my mug?"
I think the guy behind me in line was amused, anyway.
Forget how I'm doing my part to screw the planet by driving a car, breathing, eating food grown outside of my yard, utilizing Starbucks' energy-sucking coffee-making process, etc. Let's shelve that for a moment.
How on earth is one of the most environmentally-responsible (?) companies in America allowing its employees ("partners") to serve customers ("guests") like that? Clearly this is a failure of a system. The poor girl at the autoplatz had no idea what to do with a personal mug. She needed to identify my drink. She used the traditional method to do so (writing on the cup). She didn't think that she was negating any benefit I was hoping to achieve.
Some Starbucks' have little stickies that go on your personal mug that identify your drink. Obviously this is as rare here as people who walk with purpose (don't remind me how much I hate the mouth-breathing masses who stroll around autoplatze aimlessly while I'm trying to find the bathroom and stand directly in my way. "Should I get this nut mix, Mabel?" "No. I like the one with the crunchy little sticks" "Where is that?" "I don't know, hold on..." walking directly into me in her lumbering mission to find the sesame sticks. I trip and give her an evil look. She focuses on the extremely vital task of helping her just-as-clueless spouse locate the correct assortment of crunchy and fatty snacks to pad their already-ample midsections before waddle out to their gas-guzzling Suburban and see more of the lovely New Jersey countryside via Turnpike.). All scathing observations aside, I am writing to Starbucks not to berate the barrista, but to point out the gap in their communication in hopes they will prioritize it somewhere above changing the toilet paper roll in store #295766 in Wenatchee.
Because the earth isn't getting any healthier.

Some pretty good career advice

From a Darden alum. Director of global marketing for a really big "fun" company. Great, engaging guy.
"1. Take charge of your career and network creatively
2. Listen to your heart but increase your odds by following the money. A difficult economy teaches patience.
Position yourself in the short term to be flexible; to be ready to move to where you really want to be in 3 years. Follow the money: if you can eat it, drink it, smoke it, take it to feel better, or clean with it…there’s a good job in it!"

Mandy ? Lozano got all serious

Today I was reminiscing to nobody in particular (because the house is empty) and realized that I've become so SERIOUS in recent blog posts.

Whiskey

Tango

Foxtrot

?

I'm making mental note to loosen things up to remind people that MBAs have not only hearts, but souls and funny bones (and assloads of debt)!

Promise.

Either that, or I shouldn't think I am responsible for convincing anybody of the existence of anything, be it sense of humor or yeti.

Here's a little story: I wasn't given a middle name. Nor was I given a proper first name, but that is a story my parents debate.

I am middle-name-less in hopes that I would take my husband's when I got married and "Lozano" would slide into the place left vacant on my birth certificate for decades and the source of much explanation when asked for my middle name only to reply "I don't have one". It was met with surprise second only to that registered on the faces of sadly ignorant human resource representatives of American companies when hiring people of Latin descent. "Which last name is it? Lopez or Garcia? Both?! So you're Maria Guadalupe Lopez Garcia? That isn't possible! You're either Maria Guadalupe Lopez or Maria Guadalupe Garcia. This is Amerikuh! Besides, what kind of name is 'Guadalupe', anyway? Isn't that a town or cockroach on that Latino cartoon from the 70s?"

I digress...

In the spirit of the candidate I hope will win this election, I've finally bequeathed a middle name on myself:

Mandy Hussein Lozano it is.

Get out and vote!

Sarah Lozano...Palin

My sister is way better looking than the VP-hopeful.
Speaking of how much I loathe fearmongering...I just finished Three Cups of Tea. I encourage ANYONE who thinks about peace to read it. Please.

Three Cups of Tea

I'm sure most of the literate world discovered this book years ago, and I am simply behind the curve. Darden does that to you.

I first heard about Three Cups of Tea from my father. He and my mother are voracious readers, and we spend hours upon hours talking about the books we discover. Not having a TV (ever) will do that for you. My parents are the ones who taught me about Michael Pollan years ago, and I remember spending one Christmas Day curled up on our purple couch tearing through The Botany of Desire and vowing to never eat a potato again. Oh, the irony.

I remember my dad talking about Mortensen's book this summer, proclaiming: "I read this book, kid, and in the end I thought to myself 'if only the rest of the world could think this way.'." Wow. If my father in his numerous decades on his earth thought that highly of a book and its premise, I should skedaddle out and get it!

Lizzie loaned it to me last night, and I am already halfway through it. One quote keeps coming back to remind me of why I do what I do:

"It may seem absurd to believe that a 'primitive' culture in the Himalaya has anything to teach our industrialized society. But our search for a future that works keeps spiraling back to an ancient connection between ourselves and the earth, an interconnectedness that ancient cultures have never abandoned." - Helena Norberg-Hodge

To my Darden schoolwork, waiting to be completed on this 70-degree Sunday I say: "Buzz off, you will wait until I finish my Tea."

(photos copyright of Jamie McGuiness from project-himalaya website)

365 days of boring

So I have to vent a bit. About the silly girls I see on Halloween. I have never understood how American women take the occasion of Halloween to let out their inner tigress. My argument: why limit it to Halloween? Be a powerful and lovely woman and all that stuff 365 days a year. Not just on holidays where it’s more socially acceptable to run around in thigh-high fishnets. Push the envelope. Do it on a random Thursday in March. Wear them under your pantsuit.
I don’t know why so many American women are uncomfortable with being sexy every day. Exhibit 1: J-Jill. The world’s worst store for women aged 20-60. Second only to Chico’s in its ability to take a perfectly beautiful woman and frump her up. Put on the Dansko clogs and voila!: instabore. Waddle over to your minivan and fetch the kids at soccer. Sheesh!

That’s not sexy. That’s wallpaper.
Women of America: please do not believe the myth that you have to hide how beautiful you are (only to be unleashed on Halloween). I’m not saying show a ton of skin all the time. But for heaven’s sake celebrate yourself! Don’t hide under shapeless fabric, ugly prints, and uninteresting silhouettes. Buy crazy jewelry. Wear brown shoes with black pants. Shop somewhere besides Ann Taylor and Banana Republic. Try to avoid saying “I just want something simple that goes with everything” for one blessed month. Stop being so sensible! Do you want that on your gravestone? You might ask how high-and-MightyMandy might spend her Halloween? Not as a French maid. I will be this man. There will be no cleavage.
(And Jonny will be Keira Knightly as Elizabeth Swan )

Date night...with me

The other night I went to watch William Walter and Tucker Rogers' acoustic gig at Fellinis No. 9. Good stuff. I stayed for a bit then bailed to go to the Darden Pink Party, where Darden dressed up in pink and drank in the name of supporting breast cancer research. A convoluted way to get people to donate money to cancer research, but sometimes you have to go with the flow.

Back to WillWal's show: I went by myself. I was definitely dressed up. But nevertheless alone. I see now just how uncomfortable America is with this. I was at the bar just over an hour and got no fewer than 5 offers of drinks and 7 surrendered barstools. I was perfectly fine standing alone and watching WillWal and Tucker play; but a lot of people aren't. I guess a lone woman in heels and a coat is sorely in need of companionship, a barstool, appetizers, attention, and psychoanalysis.

When I first moved to North Carolina and lost my s.o. to the rigors of a PhD, I went to movies by myself. When I told my mother, she freaked out. It's as if I was one double-feature away from slitting my wrists. She had visions of someone finding me in the back of the theatre, bleeding out into my popcorn.

Unlikely.

It's up to me to feel uncomfortable when I'm alone. Nobody else has that power. It's pretty liberating, so on Friday night that I just grooved to the music of the boys and let other people wrestle with the concept of a woman alone in a bar. High heels or not, it isn't that strange, folks.

It wasn't just me who had the idea of going out alone. T.I. showed up at the Pink Party.

Why didn't he call me? We could've worn matching stunna shades.

Typhoon!

On a fittingly rainy day (today), the Piaggio Typhoon came into my life. She (or maybe it's a he?) is our around-town wheeliebike.
We made a new rule: no more driving Layla in Charlottesville unless it's to the recycling center or Lowe's. Knowing Gato ingenuity, he'll figure out a cargo system so those trips will be on the Typhoon, as well.
Troppo carino, no?Best part? Mere pennie$ to fill up.