Alternate title: Reason #315 why I should not have children
So apparently when I am depressed/angry/frustrated/sleepy I should not be left alone among the general population. I made two different people cry on two totally separate occasions in the past two days. Perhaps it would be best if I just stayed in bed? You tell me.
Occasion the first:
I was driving home from work on Tuesday, in the Bronco, with the top off, after I had what probably was one of the most patience trying days of my life. I had left work late and it had taken me about 45 minutes to drive a distance of maybe 5 miles. I was not amused. Because traffic had been literally CRAWLING I found myself about 2 feet into the pedestrian cross walk when the light turned red. Keep in mind I had been sitting in that exact same spot for about 10 minutes. Enter fat man holding Jack in the Box bag and jumbo cup of soda.
Fat Man: You are totally in the cross walk b*$@#!
Me: (to myself) Maybe he doesn’t realize that with out any top (or windows!) that I can hear him?
Me: (still to myself) Wow lard ass you should be thanking me for making you walk 3 extra steps!
Me: (out loud) Wow lard ass you should be thanking me for making you walk 3 extra steps!
At this point the Fat Man turns around and glares at me. Do I leave well enough alone? Do I sheepishly look away? NOT ON YOUR LIFE BUDDY!
Me: (not knowing how to shut my pie hole) Seriously! Jack in the Box? (at which point I motioned to his bag) Maybe you should try jogging fatso!
Thankfully the light turned green and the cars in front of me had moved about 3 feet so I could somewhat triumphantly drive off. I looked over and caught a glimpse of Fat Man (now safely on the other side of the street from the Crazy Truck Driving B*$@#) and y’all he looked like he was about to cry.
I did feel mildly guilty. But then I thought “he started it!” a la 4th grade and decided that perhaps I should go lock myself in the house for the remainder of the evening.
Occasion the second:
Yesterday as I was walking to my car after work, which as I’ve mentioned before is parked way out in the back 40 about a mile from my office, I was indulging in a very well deserved pity cigarette when I noticed these two twelve year old girls approaching me on the sidewalk from the opposite direction.
Please no lectures about the cigarettes – any lectures will most likely result in a) hysterical crying, b) me regaling you with all the numerous reasons my life sucks right now or c) a combination of the two.
12 YO #1: (to her friend) Ew! Why would anyone smoke a cigarette?
12 YO #2: (clearly appalled at the presence of a cigarette (!) in public, on the street) I don’t know that is SO gross.
Me: (not having learned my lesson from the day before apparently) Listen little girl. You should think twice before judging people. For your information my house was robbed, we lost pretty much everything of value, I hate my job, I am about to drive about 2 hours in traffic and I am getting married in less than a month. So maybe you shouldn’t worry about my smoking – you have no idea how stressful it is to be a grown up.
12 YO #1: (mouth wide open staring at me) Um.
12 YO #2: Come on let’s go.
I resisted the temptation to throw my cigarette butt at their retreating backs, but barely. The first little girl looked like she was about to cry but the second one just looked shocked that I dared to speak to them. I’m sure somewhere today there is a pissed off soccer mom telling her friends about the psycho smoker who accosted her beloved Buffy as she walked downtown for an ice cream. Whatever. People should teach their children to be understanding and non-judgmental. Ahem.
I am now on a goal today to not make ANYONE cry. No matter how well deserved. Because I really am a nice person. I've just had a few bad days/weeks/months.
Really!
*****
This just in! In an effort to prove that I am not a miserable excuse for a human being and not fit for companionship with anyone other than Ebinezer Scrooge... I was walking to my car to go run an errand at lunch and there was an older woman walking in front of me. When she stopped at the corner she turned around and smiled at me and said,
"Those are noisy shoes! Don't wear those when you go to rob the bank!"
And I responded in all my bah-humbugness by giving her (what I hope was) a friendly smile and said,
"Yes ma'm. I promise to bring my slippers for that."
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
One of those days
I was going to start this post by asking if any of you (all three readers) have ever had one of those days where you probably should have just stayed in bed but instead you ignored your good sense and insisted on plodding through an increasingly bad day. But then I thought that was pretty much a rhetorical question because I don’t know anyone who HASN’T had one of those days. Kind of like the day I am having today for example.
This morning I slept through my alarm because even though I went through all the trouble of setting a recurring alarm in my cell phone for 5 am every week day so I could get up and go to the gym, I somehow forgot that I left my phone plugged in to the charger in the other room. So did I wake up at 5 am and drag my ass to the gym? Sadly no. I woke up somewhere around 6:30 and, realizing it was WAY too late to salvage any pre-work gym time, promptly went back to sleep. Which means that I was running late for work this morning – super! That, added to the fact that I am a HUGE FAT ASS and will resemble something akin to the stay puff marshmallow man at my wedding that is ONE MONTH FROM TODAY and I was already wondering at the wisdom of leaving the house.
Turns out leaving the house was going to be one more item on the “could this day get any worse” list. As most of you gathered from my post below, our home was broken into a few weeks ago. Among the things stolen were all the spare keys to our cars and the pink slips. Awesome right? So we had TheBoy’s truck re-keyed and ordered the parts for the Bronco to be re-keyed. But my car? It is still in hiding. I do love American cars and will most likely ever drive anything else, however, TheBoy’s Ford was approximately ¼ of the cost to have re-keyed than my Chevy would be. And since all of our worldly good are missing AND money was tight to begin with the care remains with its old locks just waiting for someone to find her and steal her.
In the meantime I’m driving TheBoy’s Bronco. The keys to said Bronco are on TheBoy’s key chain, the key chain with the keys to the truck that he left in this morning for work while I was still scrambling to get ready (because I was still running late). Of course by the time I was finally ready for work and noticed the missing keys, TheBoy was long gone. After many calls to his cell phone which was rolling straight to voice mail, one panicked message in which I am pretty sure I sounded like I was about to cry (because I was indeed about to cry) and one-trying-to-be-funny-but-really-frustrated-as-hell text message I finally called my boss, explained the situation and sat down with some bus schedules to try and figure my way in to work via mass transit. Working backwards I had managed to find two out of three legs of a route that would get me to the office right about lunch time when TheBoy’s truck pulled in the driveway. Hallelujah!
Sadly, in my excitement that I actually had a vehicle to get to work in I forgot that 1) it was raining outside and 2) the bronco currently is operating in “topless” mode. A few weeks back when the weather was nice TheBoy took the hard top off the truck so we could drive around and enjoy the summer-like weather. Today is not so summer-like I’m afraid. After briefly contemplating whether or not I could single handedly lift the top (weighing roughly 500 pounds) back on to the truck. I think you and I both know I would be right at this minute laying under a mass of steel had I actually tried to go that route. Instead, I just went into the house, grabbed a jacket, pulled my hair into a ponytail and with a not-so silent curse started off on my 2 hour commute. I was only about an hour and a half late at this point. Sweet.
Y’all. I could go on with other this-day-is maybe-the worst-ever-and-its-only-noon stories but right now I think it is best if I sit quietly and try not to offend anyone. Actually I’m pretty much trying to avoid all contact with other humans and am silently counting the hours until I can crawl in to bed with an entire bottle of wine. I still have a two hour commute home after all and I would really like it if someone upstairs turned the rain off over in my home town. Thanks!
This morning I slept through my alarm because even though I went through all the trouble of setting a recurring alarm in my cell phone for 5 am every week day so I could get up and go to the gym, I somehow forgot that I left my phone plugged in to the charger in the other room. So did I wake up at 5 am and drag my ass to the gym? Sadly no. I woke up somewhere around 6:30 and, realizing it was WAY too late to salvage any pre-work gym time, promptly went back to sleep. Which means that I was running late for work this morning – super! That, added to the fact that I am a HUGE FAT ASS and will resemble something akin to the stay puff marshmallow man at my wedding that is ONE MONTH FROM TODAY and I was already wondering at the wisdom of leaving the house.
Turns out leaving the house was going to be one more item on the “could this day get any worse” list. As most of you gathered from my post below, our home was broken into a few weeks ago. Among the things stolen were all the spare keys to our cars and the pink slips. Awesome right? So we had TheBoy’s truck re-keyed and ordered the parts for the Bronco to be re-keyed. But my car? It is still in hiding. I do love American cars and will most likely ever drive anything else, however, TheBoy’s Ford was approximately ¼ of the cost to have re-keyed than my Chevy would be. And since all of our worldly good are missing AND money was tight to begin with the care remains with its old locks just waiting for someone to find her and steal her.
In the meantime I’m driving TheBoy’s Bronco. The keys to said Bronco are on TheBoy’s key chain, the key chain with the keys to the truck that he left in this morning for work while I was still scrambling to get ready (because I was still running late). Of course by the time I was finally ready for work and noticed the missing keys, TheBoy was long gone. After many calls to his cell phone which was rolling straight to voice mail, one panicked message in which I am pretty sure I sounded like I was about to cry (because I was indeed about to cry) and one-trying-to-be-funny-but-really-frustrated-as-hell text message I finally called my boss, explained the situation and sat down with some bus schedules to try and figure my way in to work via mass transit. Working backwards I had managed to find two out of three legs of a route that would get me to the office right about lunch time when TheBoy’s truck pulled in the driveway. Hallelujah!
Sadly, in my excitement that I actually had a vehicle to get to work in I forgot that 1) it was raining outside and 2) the bronco currently is operating in “topless” mode. A few weeks back when the weather was nice TheBoy took the hard top off the truck so we could drive around and enjoy the summer-like weather. Today is not so summer-like I’m afraid. After briefly contemplating whether or not I could single handedly lift the top (weighing roughly 500 pounds) back on to the truck. I think you and I both know I would be right at this minute laying under a mass of steel had I actually tried to go that route. Instead, I just went into the house, grabbed a jacket, pulled my hair into a ponytail and with a not-so silent curse started off on my 2 hour commute. I was only about an hour and a half late at this point. Sweet.
Y’all. I could go on with other this-day-is maybe-the worst-ever-and-its-only-noon stories but right now I think it is best if I sit quietly and try not to offend anyone. Actually I’m pretty much trying to avoid all contact with other humans and am silently counting the hours until I can crawl in to bed with an entire bottle of wine. I still have a two hour commute home after all and I would really like it if someone upstairs turned the rain off over in my home town. Thanks!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
The worst
People keep telling me that the first year of homeownership is hard. I'm trying to take that wisdom and run with it but let me tell you I'm not sure I would have done it if I had known in advance just HOW hard it was going to be. We have officially owned this home for nine months. In that nine months I have seen a more than 2/3 decrease in my income, I've spent roughly 4 hours a day 5 days a week sitting on my ass in traffic, I've felt more lonely than I have in my entire life and now on top of it all our home was broken into last week and they made off with pretty much everything valuable we owned. At this rate I am not sure we will survive the remaining 3 months in our first year.
We're still reeling from the shock and total feeling of violation that accompanies having someone riffling through your things. We've had the house re-keyed, the alarm installed and upgraded, we've had to put credit fraud alerts out with any and everyone and we're (hopefully) getting a dog soon. I've lost all of my jewelry, except for a few cheap-y things the thief apparently didn't want AND I've lost my wedding rings - 5 weeks before the big day. TheBoy lost both groomsmen gifts he's received from being the best man in two of his friend's weddings, things like that that you can't replace. And of course the insurance company is raking us over the coals and refusing to pay for most of the things. WHY do we pay these people money every month or year? They certainly don't seem inclined to help us AT ALL. In fact they seem determined to make an already miserable experience even worse.
But on the bright side, no one was injured. We still have our health, though that sounds hallow even to my ears. The wedding will go on, without wedding bands, but luckily it doesn't take rings to make a marriage. Here's to hoping the next 3 months go by more smoothly than the preceding 9. In the meantime please send good thoughts our way. And wine - I'm not sure there is enough wine in the world to make the next 5 weeks / 3 months go by fast enough but Lordy you better believe I am trying! I'll either make it through this relatively sane or I'll be checking into rehab in the fall. One of the two.
We're still reeling from the shock and total feeling of violation that accompanies having someone riffling through your things. We've had the house re-keyed, the alarm installed and upgraded, we've had to put credit fraud alerts out with any and everyone and we're (hopefully) getting a dog soon. I've lost all of my jewelry, except for a few cheap-y things the thief apparently didn't want AND I've lost my wedding rings - 5 weeks before the big day. TheBoy lost both groomsmen gifts he's received from being the best man in two of his friend's weddings, things like that that you can't replace. And of course the insurance company is raking us over the coals and refusing to pay for most of the things. WHY do we pay these people money every month or year? They certainly don't seem inclined to help us AT ALL. In fact they seem determined to make an already miserable experience even worse.
But on the bright side, no one was injured. We still have our health, though that sounds hallow even to my ears. The wedding will go on, without wedding bands, but luckily it doesn't take rings to make a marriage. Here's to hoping the next 3 months go by more smoothly than the preceding 9. In the meantime please send good thoughts our way. And wine - I'm not sure there is enough wine in the world to make the next 5 weeks / 3 months go by fast enough but Lordy you better believe I am trying! I'll either make it through this relatively sane or I'll be checking into rehab in the fall. One of the two.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Now with 25% more creativity!
**Update: I know I didn't actually post a PHOTO down there of the invite. I was going to but thought it might not be smart to have ALL my personal info out there for the world to see. You know? Anywho, Michele is stellar once again and sent me a picture of it with the personal stuff blurred out. Go check it out! She's amazing!
Occasionally I will get these crazy ideas at work in which I will try to convince myself that I actually have a FUN and EXCITING marketing job and not a completely dull and boring one. (One that I won’t detail here because, hello, Dooce?) When one of these ideas strikes I am full of excitement and plan making and research. However, at some point during this process I will be reminded that while it is fun to come up with these ideas, sometimes the implementation of them is tedious. This is how I found myself this afternoon literally skipping across the street in my joy to finally be ridding myself of the smell of mint forever. Y’all, I may NEVER eat anything mint flavored again! And don’t even get me started on microwave popcorn. I’m just saying is all.
On the note of creativity, do you know who IS totally creative and artsy and stuff? Michele! She so very kindly offered to help me with the design of my wedding invitations. And by “help” I mean take a completely vague notion I had of using a sailor’s knot (since we’re “tying the knot” aboard a boat ~ get it? Ha!) and just ran with the whole thing including colors and covers and used really small words to help my dumb ass figure out wording and everything! I am in eager anticipation to receive the completed invites tomorrow. AND because Michele is not only creative and fun and a very, very good friend, she ALSO takes photos with her camera and actually sends them to people with her convenient download cable unlike other people (*cough *cough) who just hordes all the pictures on her camera forever and ever amen.
So when I said “wouldn’t it be neat if we had a knot of some kind on our invitation cause of the whole boat thing?” She said sure! And came up with this:
On the note of creativity, do you know who IS totally creative and artsy and stuff? Michele! She so very kindly offered to help me with the design of my wedding invitations. And by “help” I mean take a completely vague notion I had of using a sailor’s knot (since we’re “tying the knot” aboard a boat ~ get it? Ha!) and just ran with the whole thing including colors and covers and used really small words to help my dumb ass figure out wording and everything! I am in eager anticipation to receive the completed invites tomorrow. AND because Michele is not only creative and fun and a very, very good friend, she ALSO takes photos with her camera and actually sends them to people with her convenient download cable unlike other people (*cough *cough) who just hordes all the pictures on her camera forever and ever amen.
So when I said “wouldn’t it be neat if we had a knot of some kind on our invitation cause of the whole boat thing?” She said sure! And came up with this:
And this is what the folder looks like when it is closed:
And the pdf of the knot details close up. Cause I think it is amazing how it all turned out.
And y’all? I totally think she should look into doing this as a side job or for a living or something. Lord knows if I had an ounce of the creativity she has with this stuff I’d be doing that from the comfort of my own home (and in jeans!) and not doing, erhm…, what I am doing now. I’m just saying is all.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Stories from the workplace
Okay I totally had another post I was going to write today but I just had to share the conversation I just had with two co-workers outside the ladies room. One of them (the girl) had straightened her hair today and as she normally wears it curly I commented on how cute it was. The other one (the boy) said to me, “Crazy you’ve been replaced!” I thought clearly I had not had enough coffee to follow where he was going with this so I just sort of gave him a puzzled look. He continued, “well you USED to have the best hair in the office,” with a pointed look at the pony tail I have been sporting for weeks.
Well I never!
I just responded with a snarky eyebrow raise and said “well I used to rent an apartment 15 minutes from the office and spend an hour getting ready. Now I own a house an hour from the office (or two or three) and I spend 15 minutes getting ready. Sometimes you need priorities.” I’m not sure that was the right comeback for that sort of back handed insult but the girl whose hair I complimented gave me a huge smile and a thumbs up behind the guy’s back as I turned to go.
Well I never!
I just responded with a snarky eyebrow raise and said “well I used to rent an apartment 15 minutes from the office and spend an hour getting ready. Now I own a house an hour from the office (or two or three) and I spend 15 minutes getting ready. Sometimes you need priorities.” I’m not sure that was the right comeback for that sort of back handed insult but the girl whose hair I complimented gave me a huge smile and a thumbs up behind the guy’s back as I turned to go.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Birthday resolutions kept = 0
You would never guess that I vowed to be a better blogger in this, my 29th year. I swear I keep thinking of things I want to say but I lack the appropriate amount of time to actually write them up. But I will. I promise. In the mean time you (my whole 2 readers) can content yourself with another post of randomness that I hastily pound out on my lunch break. You lucky people you.
*****
~ I am sweating. Profusely. At work. The receptionist upstairs just sent an e-mail out about how the A/C was broken in the building and that someone would be out shortly to remedy the situation. I was forced to reply inquiring about the apparent excellent condition of the heating system however because for some unknown reason it is roughly 98 degrees in the ladies room. It is only slightly cooler in the rest of the building given that the restroom has its own gigantic heating vent and the rest of the floor only has 6 additional vents. 3,000 square feet in the office = 6 heating vents, 100 square feet in the ladies room = 1 heating vent. Someone did not research this.
*****
~ A few days ago I had a dream that I got talked into actually leaving my cubicle for lunch and accompanied some of the ladies from the office to a restaurant down the street. On our way we passed one of those slightly crazy, very olfactory offensive women who sit downtown and offer to tell the fortunes of the passing masses in suits and ties. Conversation at lunch centered mainly on fortune telling and somehow it was discovered that I, along with only one other co-worker, had never had the extreme pleasure of paying some stranger to tell me my future based on the tilt of my head and facial ticks. The other woman got talked into having her fortune read on the way back from lunch. I flatly refused.
As a group we all huddled around this little old lady and my co-worker prepared to have her fortune told. I remember thinking that all of the things that this woman told my friend were predictable. She would have success at work – we were all dressed in various forms of business attire. She would enjoy the company of good friends – surrounded by 6 women. That type of thing. I was understandably not prepared when she singled me out of the crowd. “You are getting married soon,” she said to me. Congratulations Einstein - she obviously saw the engagement ring on my finger. As I turned with the girls to go she muttered something under her breath, something none of the girls caught and I pretended not to understand. “You won’t be married this time next year.”
I really need to cut back on the red wine before bed.
*****
~ In family news, my soon-to-be Brother in Law and his wife had their first child yesterday. Ava. In the two slightly grainy photos I have of her she looks cute, in that sort of alien newborn baby way. Don’t lie, you know what I am talking about. All accounts have the parents over the moon with happiness. One late night text from the BIL summed it up by saying it is “surreal”. I can only agree. Surreal is exactly the feeling I have when I learn that yet another friend is reproducing. But then again you know about me and the babies. Anyway, I can’t wait to meet my new little niece Ava. I might have to kill my future SIL though if she looks as good after just birthing an effing baby as she did one week before her due date. I won’t say I wasn’t the slightest bit jealous when I realized that she probably weighed less than me. She certainly looked beautiful in her little black dress.
*****
~ I am sweating. Profusely. At work. The receptionist upstairs just sent an e-mail out about how the A/C was broken in the building and that someone would be out shortly to remedy the situation. I was forced to reply inquiring about the apparent excellent condition of the heating system however because for some unknown reason it is roughly 98 degrees in the ladies room. It is only slightly cooler in the rest of the building given that the restroom has its own gigantic heating vent and the rest of the floor only has 6 additional vents. 3,000 square feet in the office = 6 heating vents, 100 square feet in the ladies room = 1 heating vent. Someone did not research this.
*****
~ A few days ago I had a dream that I got talked into actually leaving my cubicle for lunch and accompanied some of the ladies from the office to a restaurant down the street. On our way we passed one of those slightly crazy, very olfactory offensive women who sit downtown and offer to tell the fortunes of the passing masses in suits and ties. Conversation at lunch centered mainly on fortune telling and somehow it was discovered that I, along with only one other co-worker, had never had the extreme pleasure of paying some stranger to tell me my future based on the tilt of my head and facial ticks. The other woman got talked into having her fortune read on the way back from lunch. I flatly refused.
As a group we all huddled around this little old lady and my co-worker prepared to have her fortune told. I remember thinking that all of the things that this woman told my friend were predictable. She would have success at work – we were all dressed in various forms of business attire. She would enjoy the company of good friends – surrounded by 6 women. That type of thing. I was understandably not prepared when she singled me out of the crowd. “You are getting married soon,” she said to me. Congratulations Einstein - she obviously saw the engagement ring on my finger. As I turned with the girls to go she muttered something under her breath, something none of the girls caught and I pretended not to understand. “You won’t be married this time next year.”
I really need to cut back on the red wine before bed.
*****
~ In family news, my soon-to-be Brother in Law and his wife had their first child yesterday. Ava. In the two slightly grainy photos I have of her she looks cute, in that sort of alien newborn baby way. Don’t lie, you know what I am talking about. All accounts have the parents over the moon with happiness. One late night text from the BIL summed it up by saying it is “surreal”. I can only agree. Surreal is exactly the feeling I have when I learn that yet another friend is reproducing. But then again you know about me and the babies. Anyway, I can’t wait to meet my new little niece Ava. I might have to kill my future SIL though if she looks as good after just birthing an effing baby as she did one week before her due date. I won’t say I wasn’t the slightest bit jealous when I realized that she probably weighed less than me. She certainly looked beautiful in her little black dress.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Thursday randomness
Y’all. I am broke. The combination of taxes and property taxes and that silly little party we’re having over the summer has effectively drained even the “rainy day” fund. Things have gotten so bad that I have been out of conditioner for my hair for 3 days! My answer to this predicament is to wash hair less and wear lots of ponytails. I also am out of the make-up that I use. Granted it isn’t cheap make-up but 1) I have been out for a month or more and 2) I pretty much buy everything else at the drug store so I feel okay about that. You know what I’ve noticed? The closer you get to 30 the fewer days there are that you can get away without wearing make-up. I’ve been asked repeatedly over the past several weeks if I am sick again or if I am not sleeping well. Touché.
But! You know what I am going to do tonight? I’m going to get my hair cut and colored. Whee! I am justifying this for a couple reasons, my hairdresser (whom I have been going to since I was like 12) accepts checks and will hold them for me until the next pay day and also I am going to be having my pictures taken A LOT in the next two weeks so I NEED cute hair. Ahem. Check in next week to see me rationalize a new outfit to wear to my engagement photo session! Who needs conditioner?
Also, I read this story the other week that was all about how if you are trying to go organic but don’t have the millions of dollars required to do it completely what the best fruits and veggies to buy organic are. So since I have been trying to go organic as much as possible but I am also broke (see above two paragraphs) I totally read every word of this article and the accompanying advice on what to do if you CAN’T buy organic for one of the fruits and veggies they mentioned.
Fast forward to a few minutes ago when a co-worker of mine walked into the kitchen to see me scrubbing down my apple with soap and hot water. I am now officially the crazy diet lady. Okay and two things, apples taste funny warm (unless they are in pie of course) and I’m not sure what is worse for me, soap residue (though you know I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed some more) or the pesticides.
I never promised you guys normal.
But! You know what I am going to do tonight? I’m going to get my hair cut and colored. Whee! I am justifying this for a couple reasons, my hairdresser (whom I have been going to since I was like 12) accepts checks and will hold them for me until the next pay day and also I am going to be having my pictures taken A LOT in the next two weeks so I NEED cute hair. Ahem. Check in next week to see me rationalize a new outfit to wear to my engagement photo session! Who needs conditioner?
Also, I read this story the other week that was all about how if you are trying to go organic but don’t have the millions of dollars required to do it completely what the best fruits and veggies to buy organic are. So since I have been trying to go organic as much as possible but I am also broke (see above two paragraphs) I totally read every word of this article and the accompanying advice on what to do if you CAN’T buy organic for one of the fruits and veggies they mentioned.
Fast forward to a few minutes ago when a co-worker of mine walked into the kitchen to see me scrubbing down my apple with soap and hot water. I am now officially the crazy diet lady. Okay and two things, apples taste funny warm (unless they are in pie of course) and I’m not sure what is worse for me, soap residue (though you know I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed some more) or the pesticides.
I never promised you guys normal.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The hardest time of day
Before anyone starts freaking out... This is a character I am working on for a story. Just thought I'd clear that up before the RF's of Tiffy stage an intervention. And no, I don't have a name for for her yet. I feel like I am just getting to know her.
*****
She says that mornings are the hardest time of day. Laying alone in her bed, eyes closed, taking inventory of her surroundings and what, if anything, she can remember from the night before. Realizing she’s wearing the top half of yesterday’s outfit, complete with sweater, jacket and scarf, but nothing on the bottom sends her brain scrambling to remember those last few moments before bed. She can remember getting dressed in that outfit, but what had possessed her to remove her shoes and pants but not the heavy winter coat and scarf? And where had she discarded the remaining articles?
She stays in bed for a few moments, squinting against the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock which remind her she better get moving or she’ll be late. She tries to care. She starts to recall the evening before, filled with dread at what she might she may have done and frustrated with her lack of control. She can remember the first glass of wine clearly, and the second. Maybe a shot? Her memory gets fuzzy. She sees the rest of the evening in bits and pieces. A flash of stumbling in the bathroom, she touches the spot on her thigh and feels the soreness of a new bruise, proof. A snippet of a conversation she had with a friend, oh Lord what they must have thought of her! A disapproving look from a stranger. The moment she realized that she was out of control. Again.
She thinks about how embarrassed she is, how much she is dreading seeing the people she knows she will see again, and the ones who witness her latest debacle. Mortification is a drink best served up, with olives. She thinks about how she’s really a terrible person and wonders that anyone wants to spend time with her anyway. Maybe they don’t and she’s just been too drunk to notice. Do they seem less than enthused to see her? She groans, sheds a few worthless tears and slides out of bed to the shower. She feels like she ruined the evening, like she is ruining her life.
While she washes away the smell of cigarette smoke from her hair (had she bought her own smokes or just mooched off a friend all evening?) and tries to shake off the dull ache starting behind her eyes, she wonders how exactly she got to this place. Drinking used to be fun. A couple of cocktails with the girls after work or a glass of wine or two with dinner used to seem perfectly acceptable. When had it gotten out of control? When had she stopped drinking for fun and started drinking to forget, to dull the pain and sadness in her life? When had her life started to control her, instead of her controlling it? She tried to giver herself a pep talk, a bit of the new age side and gives up before she really can start. That garbage about choosing your destiny rings especially false when sober.
Later, walking through her home trying to clean up yet another mess left in the aftermath of a night of drinking she wonders if she should quit. Can she quit? The possibility seems unlikely. She is a drinker and many if not all the people in her life are drinkers, she doesn’t possess the will power to quit cold turkey on her own nor the money and time required to check herself into a rehab center. Besides rehab is for pop stars she thinks with a sort of ironic half smile, and AA is for alcoholics and she fancies her self a regular run of the mill drunk. The smile fades as quickly as it appeared. She rarely smiles anymore. At least not when she’s sober.
She says that mornings are the hardest.
*****
She says that mornings are the hardest time of day. Laying alone in her bed, eyes closed, taking inventory of her surroundings and what, if anything, she can remember from the night before. Realizing she’s wearing the top half of yesterday’s outfit, complete with sweater, jacket and scarf, but nothing on the bottom sends her brain scrambling to remember those last few moments before bed. She can remember getting dressed in that outfit, but what had possessed her to remove her shoes and pants but not the heavy winter coat and scarf? And where had she discarded the remaining articles?
She stays in bed for a few moments, squinting against the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock which remind her she better get moving or she’ll be late. She tries to care. She starts to recall the evening before, filled with dread at what she might she may have done and frustrated with her lack of control. She can remember the first glass of wine clearly, and the second. Maybe a shot? Her memory gets fuzzy. She sees the rest of the evening in bits and pieces. A flash of stumbling in the bathroom, she touches the spot on her thigh and feels the soreness of a new bruise, proof. A snippet of a conversation she had with a friend, oh Lord what they must have thought of her! A disapproving look from a stranger. The moment she realized that she was out of control. Again.
She thinks about how embarrassed she is, how much she is dreading seeing the people she knows she will see again, and the ones who witness her latest debacle. Mortification is a drink best served up, with olives. She thinks about how she’s really a terrible person and wonders that anyone wants to spend time with her anyway. Maybe they don’t and she’s just been too drunk to notice. Do they seem less than enthused to see her? She groans, sheds a few worthless tears and slides out of bed to the shower. She feels like she ruined the evening, like she is ruining her life.
While she washes away the smell of cigarette smoke from her hair (had she bought her own smokes or just mooched off a friend all evening?) and tries to shake off the dull ache starting behind her eyes, she wonders how exactly she got to this place. Drinking used to be fun. A couple of cocktails with the girls after work or a glass of wine or two with dinner used to seem perfectly acceptable. When had it gotten out of control? When had she stopped drinking for fun and started drinking to forget, to dull the pain and sadness in her life? When had her life started to control her, instead of her controlling it? She tried to giver herself a pep talk, a bit of the new age side and gives up before she really can start. That garbage about choosing your destiny rings especially false when sober.
Later, walking through her home trying to clean up yet another mess left in the aftermath of a night of drinking she wonders if she should quit. Can she quit? The possibility seems unlikely. She is a drinker and many if not all the people in her life are drinkers, she doesn’t possess the will power to quit cold turkey on her own nor the money and time required to check herself into a rehab center. Besides rehab is for pop stars she thinks with a sort of ironic half smile, and AA is for alcoholics and she fancies her self a regular run of the mill drunk. The smile fades as quickly as it appeared. She rarely smiles anymore. At least not when she’s sober.
She says that mornings are the hardest.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Ten in ten
I have been working on my writing skills lately… and I thought I’d start sharing some of these attempts with you guys since they are more original than wedding updates or how much fun the DMV is. You know. Below is one I came across a few weeks ago but purposely saved for today – my birthday. Because I need a couple things to keep my brain occupied otherwise I might go back under the covers and stay there. ALL. DAY. LONG.
The object was to list 10 things I have learned in the proceeding 10 years, working on details and so on. Y’all know I have zero trouble with details right? I have to preface this post by saying that 10 years ago I was 19 and in my first year of college. I think ALL people learn a lot of stuff in the 10 years between 20 and 30, no? It’ll be interesting to read some of the responses to this by people in their 40’s and 50’s in my writing group online.
*****
1) Vanity is useless. Not that I was particularly vain… I’m not a super model by a long shot (too short for starters!). But I prided myself of a couple things that had to do with looks. Namely, I had/have a whole head of thick blonde hair that I used to obsess over daily and I always had to try the new looks, I had a flat stomach that I showed off in some terribly misguided 90’s era tummy shirts, and I could always grow healthy and strong long fingernails. Ahem. I blame youth.
I do not wish to discuss my stomach and its flatness or lack there of at the moment. That is a whole other post for another day. And it’s safe to say that at some point in the last 10 years I have discovered that sometimes a girl needs to spend a little less time in front of the mirror worrying about her hair and a little more time in the gym worrying about the size of her ass. As for fingernails? Ha! Home improvement projects combined with the dry, dry, dry air at home have managed to successfully wreck both my nails and my hands. For example, my nails look okay today, short but all relatively the same length but the skin on my fingers and around the nail beds is chapped, cracking and very dry. There isn’t enough lotion in the world for me right now.
2) I am happier with a half dozen of truly close girlfriends that I would go to some pretty great distances and maybe even break the law for, than I ever was when I had a hundred friends and still spent most of my evenings running in the gym or watching sitcoms alone. I was lonelier 10 years ago than I am now. I felt like no one “got” me. Now I know that if I really needed to, I could pick up the phone and reach someone who actually CARES when they ask me how my day was. I thought I had to have a lot of friends to make myself feel fulfilled. Turns out I was wrong.
3) Somehow, my mom got a hell of a lot smarter and conversely I don’t know quite as much as I thought I did 10 years ago. At 19 I wanted to do it my way, I was fiercely independent (which my mother can take ALL the credit for) and I didn’t want to hear anyone else’s thoughts on what I was doing with MY life. Ha! I consider my mom a friend, someone I would chose to spend my (sadly) very limited amount of free time with, someone whose opinion I value. I probably still annoy her at times and we definitely don’t see eye to eye on all things, but I will always respect her and I think she’s learning to respect the woman I’ve grown to be also. Even if she doesn’t like some of my choices (cough ~ tattoo ~ cough).
4) Love should not hurt. Someone who claims to love you should not make you feel bad about yourself, they should not make you cry and then not care that you are crying, they should not tell you that you are worthless/a waste of time/not worth the energy. Likewise if you truly love someone you should not want to test them, you should not want to avoid them, you shouldn’t fear them. I’ve learned to love by putting someone else’s happiness on an equal level or above my own. I’ve learned that people can love each other without knock down screaming fights. I used to think fighting meant the relationship had passion, now I know all it means is that your relationship has problems. (And before I get a ration of hate mail, I am not talking about little petty arguments and so on – I agree that those things happen and are perfectly normal.) I used to think I wasn’t good enough for someone to want to be with, to stay with, to be faithful to. Now I know better.
5) I’ve learned that sometimes your friends, no matter how dear, will let you down, disappoint you, or make you angry. They are human. Chances are you have disappointed them a time or two also. I’ve learned that when this happens you have to sit down with yourself, have a little come to Jesus, and decide if you can forgive them, truly forgive them. If you can not, then there is no need to have a knock down drag out fight or spend hours rehashing the same things over and over. It is acceptable to just quietly walk away; you can both retain your dignity. We are adults, we can behave cordially. If you decide you can forgive them, you can not mention it again, to them or to anyone. It isn’t fair to keep throwing something someone has done wrong in their faces. Chances are they feel terrible enough without that.
6) I’ve learned that one should always have a specific notion as to their financial situation. You should know how much you are making, how much you are spending and how much you owe. I of course learned this the hard way. I’ve learned that it’s not a good idea to pin your hopes on surprise inheritances from distant, unknown relatives. You get yourself into this mess, you get out. I’ve also learned to be at peace with the idea that I didn’t get into this situation overnight and there isn’t an overnight solution to get out of it. I’ve learned that you have to invest, even minimally to secure your future. No one my age is going to have Social Security so it’s up to us to make sure we aren’t a burden to our families once we retire. I’ve learned that new shoes aren’t as important as the mortgage payment and that drugstore make-up can cut it most of the time. I’ve learned I can live with only one or two hair appointments a year. I’ve learned that when I DO have money I’d rather do something with it than get something for it.
7) I’ve learned that life is too short to spend it with people who aren’t invested in you, working at jobs you despise (with the exception of #6 above – you can’t cut off your nose to spite your face so to speak), or just generally feeling unhappy about your life. If something is making you unhappy it is up to you to change it, it won’t change itself. And no one will know you are unhappy or that you need or want help if you don’t tell them.
Please note – while I KNOW this I still struggle daily to FOLLOW this. But I’m working on it. Life is a work in progress right? I believe in being able to choose your attitude. Choose Your Attitude. How great is that? If you think your life is terrible it will be. If you think you are happy and life is great then you are and it is. I’m hoping that didn’t come out to New Age-y but y’all know what I’m getting at right? It’s up to you.
8) I’ve learned that you can not believe everything you hear, see or read. You must consider the source, the context and then judge this information. It is up to you to educate yourself before taking sides on a position. I’ve learned that education is truly, truly important. It is so much more important than I ever knew at 19. I’ve also learned that you don’t need a fancy degree to be educated and that it is never too late. The information is out there, go find it. And then once you’ve found it, look at the context, consider the source and come up with your own ideas. I’ve learned that even honest people can sometimes present their views as fact or can give you advice based on incomplete information. It is up to you to question everything.
Especially some crazy, Self Help-ish crap a blogger writes for a creative workshop and spouts on the internets. :D
9) Stopping to smell the roses is a really good idea. Maybe I’m just focusing on this one because I’m yet another year older and I am officially at an age where in High School I thought I would be OLD. Not that I necessarily thought old was bad or anything but in my little teenaged old brain I thought by 29 I would be married, with a couple kids, having a career, traveling the world. You know, I’d be established. Well I suppose I have a few of the things I thought I’d have… the house, the husband-to-be, etc… But I don’t FEEL like I’m as mature as I could be, like I don’t have my shit in order and that’s bad.
So instead of dwelling and obsessing about the things I lack, and hopefully bypassing the stage where I sit silently rocking myself back and forth in the corner, chewing on my hair with a half dozen empty wine bottles in front of me, I am choosing to stop to appreciate the things I do have. I have a nice tidy home. I have flowers blooming all over the place that thanks to the collective efforts of my mom and future MIL are NOT dead! I have good friends. I have a good man to spend my life with. I have a snuggly cat whose sole purpose in life seems to be keeping my toes warm. I earn a steady paycheck. I am old enough to buy booze. All of these things are positive and I need to take the time to appreciate them.
10) Your health is important – you only get one shot at it. This is the only body I am ever going to get you know? So I figure it’s up to me to take care of it. That means different things to different people of course. For you it might mean drinking eight glasses of water a day and taking a multi-vitamin. For others of you it might mean riding your bike to work or something. For me, this means eating less processed foods with chemicals and scary additives I can not pronounce. It means more fruit and veggies and less burgers and fries. It means more water and green tea and less wine and tequila. It means getting my body moving, somehow, every day. Whether it’s taking the stairs between floors at work instead of the elevator, or the walk in from the bus stop, or going to a hike on a Sunday morning, or doing an exercise DVD in the evenings before I start dinner. That is what I am trying to do, for me, for my sanity, for this body that I am hoping to keep around for another decade or five.
The object was to list 10 things I have learned in the proceeding 10 years, working on details and so on. Y’all know I have zero trouble with details right? I have to preface this post by saying that 10 years ago I was 19 and in my first year of college. I think ALL people learn a lot of stuff in the 10 years between 20 and 30, no? It’ll be interesting to read some of the responses to this by people in their 40’s and 50’s in my writing group online.
*****
1) Vanity is useless. Not that I was particularly vain… I’m not a super model by a long shot (too short for starters!). But I prided myself of a couple things that had to do with looks. Namely, I had/have a whole head of thick blonde hair that I used to obsess over daily and I always had to try the new looks, I had a flat stomach that I showed off in some terribly misguided 90’s era tummy shirts, and I could always grow healthy and strong long fingernails. Ahem. I blame youth.
I do not wish to discuss my stomach and its flatness or lack there of at the moment. That is a whole other post for another day. And it’s safe to say that at some point in the last 10 years I have discovered that sometimes a girl needs to spend a little less time in front of the mirror worrying about her hair and a little more time in the gym worrying about the size of her ass. As for fingernails? Ha! Home improvement projects combined with the dry, dry, dry air at home have managed to successfully wreck both my nails and my hands. For example, my nails look okay today, short but all relatively the same length but the skin on my fingers and around the nail beds is chapped, cracking and very dry. There isn’t enough lotion in the world for me right now.
2) I am happier with a half dozen of truly close girlfriends that I would go to some pretty great distances and maybe even break the law for, than I ever was when I had a hundred friends and still spent most of my evenings running in the gym or watching sitcoms alone. I was lonelier 10 years ago than I am now. I felt like no one “got” me. Now I know that if I really needed to, I could pick up the phone and reach someone who actually CARES when they ask me how my day was. I thought I had to have a lot of friends to make myself feel fulfilled. Turns out I was wrong.
3) Somehow, my mom got a hell of a lot smarter and conversely I don’t know quite as much as I thought I did 10 years ago. At 19 I wanted to do it my way, I was fiercely independent (which my mother can take ALL the credit for) and I didn’t want to hear anyone else’s thoughts on what I was doing with MY life. Ha! I consider my mom a friend, someone I would chose to spend my (sadly) very limited amount of free time with, someone whose opinion I value. I probably still annoy her at times and we definitely don’t see eye to eye on all things, but I will always respect her and I think she’s learning to respect the woman I’ve grown to be also. Even if she doesn’t like some of my choices (cough ~ tattoo ~ cough).
4) Love should not hurt. Someone who claims to love you should not make you feel bad about yourself, they should not make you cry and then not care that you are crying, they should not tell you that you are worthless/a waste of time/not worth the energy. Likewise if you truly love someone you should not want to test them, you should not want to avoid them, you shouldn’t fear them. I’ve learned to love by putting someone else’s happiness on an equal level or above my own. I’ve learned that people can love each other without knock down screaming fights. I used to think fighting meant the relationship had passion, now I know all it means is that your relationship has problems. (And before I get a ration of hate mail, I am not talking about little petty arguments and so on – I agree that those things happen and are perfectly normal.) I used to think I wasn’t good enough for someone to want to be with, to stay with, to be faithful to. Now I know better.
5) I’ve learned that sometimes your friends, no matter how dear, will let you down, disappoint you, or make you angry. They are human. Chances are you have disappointed them a time or two also. I’ve learned that when this happens you have to sit down with yourself, have a little come to Jesus, and decide if you can forgive them, truly forgive them. If you can not, then there is no need to have a knock down drag out fight or spend hours rehashing the same things over and over. It is acceptable to just quietly walk away; you can both retain your dignity. We are adults, we can behave cordially. If you decide you can forgive them, you can not mention it again, to them or to anyone. It isn’t fair to keep throwing something someone has done wrong in their faces. Chances are they feel terrible enough without that.
6) I’ve learned that one should always have a specific notion as to their financial situation. You should know how much you are making, how much you are spending and how much you owe. I of course learned this the hard way. I’ve learned that it’s not a good idea to pin your hopes on surprise inheritances from distant, unknown relatives. You get yourself into this mess, you get out. I’ve also learned to be at peace with the idea that I didn’t get into this situation overnight and there isn’t an overnight solution to get out of it. I’ve learned that you have to invest, even minimally to secure your future. No one my age is going to have Social Security so it’s up to us to make sure we aren’t a burden to our families once we retire. I’ve learned that new shoes aren’t as important as the mortgage payment and that drugstore make-up can cut it most of the time. I’ve learned I can live with only one or two hair appointments a year. I’ve learned that when I DO have money I’d rather do something with it than get something for it.
7) I’ve learned that life is too short to spend it with people who aren’t invested in you, working at jobs you despise (with the exception of #6 above – you can’t cut off your nose to spite your face so to speak), or just generally feeling unhappy about your life. If something is making you unhappy it is up to you to change it, it won’t change itself. And no one will know you are unhappy or that you need or want help if you don’t tell them.
Please note – while I KNOW this I still struggle daily to FOLLOW this. But I’m working on it. Life is a work in progress right? I believe in being able to choose your attitude. Choose Your Attitude. How great is that? If you think your life is terrible it will be. If you think you are happy and life is great then you are and it is. I’m hoping that didn’t come out to New Age-y but y’all know what I’m getting at right? It’s up to you.
8) I’ve learned that you can not believe everything you hear, see or read. You must consider the source, the context and then judge this information. It is up to you to educate yourself before taking sides on a position. I’ve learned that education is truly, truly important. It is so much more important than I ever knew at 19. I’ve also learned that you don’t need a fancy degree to be educated and that it is never too late. The information is out there, go find it. And then once you’ve found it, look at the context, consider the source and come up with your own ideas. I’ve learned that even honest people can sometimes present their views as fact or can give you advice based on incomplete information. It is up to you to question everything.
Especially some crazy, Self Help-ish crap a blogger writes for a creative workshop and spouts on the internets. :D
9) Stopping to smell the roses is a really good idea. Maybe I’m just focusing on this one because I’m yet another year older and I am officially at an age where in High School I thought I would be OLD. Not that I necessarily thought old was bad or anything but in my little teenaged old brain I thought by 29 I would be married, with a couple kids, having a career, traveling the world. You know, I’d be established. Well I suppose I have a few of the things I thought I’d have… the house, the husband-to-be, etc… But I don’t FEEL like I’m as mature as I could be, like I don’t have my shit in order and that’s bad.
So instead of dwelling and obsessing about the things I lack, and hopefully bypassing the stage where I sit silently rocking myself back and forth in the corner, chewing on my hair with a half dozen empty wine bottles in front of me, I am choosing to stop to appreciate the things I do have. I have a nice tidy home. I have flowers blooming all over the place that thanks to the collective efforts of my mom and future MIL are NOT dead! I have good friends. I have a good man to spend my life with. I have a snuggly cat whose sole purpose in life seems to be keeping my toes warm. I earn a steady paycheck. I am old enough to buy booze. All of these things are positive and I need to take the time to appreciate them.
10) Your health is important – you only get one shot at it. This is the only body I am ever going to get you know? So I figure it’s up to me to take care of it. That means different things to different people of course. For you it might mean drinking eight glasses of water a day and taking a multi-vitamin. For others of you it might mean riding your bike to work or something. For me, this means eating less processed foods with chemicals and scary additives I can not pronounce. It means more fruit and veggies and less burgers and fries. It means more water and green tea and less wine and tequila. It means getting my body moving, somehow, every day. Whether it’s taking the stairs between floors at work instead of the elevator, or the walk in from the bus stop, or going to a hike on a Sunday morning, or doing an exercise DVD in the evenings before I start dinner. That is what I am trying to do, for me, for my sanity, for this body that I am hoping to keep around for another decade or five.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Commuting!
I am officially a commuter!
I know I have technically been commuting since we moved out to the wine country 7 months ago but at first I had TheBoy so we could take the carpool lane which made the trip shorter (and I had someone to talk to) and, as I’ve complained about before, for the last 2 months or so I’ve been driving it solo. There is nothing like sitting in traffic for 3-4 hours each day to make you want to drive your car off a cliff. I’m just saying is all.
But today? Today I took public transportation! I’ve been wanting too for quite some time actually. It has the potential to save me $200 in gas alone in my car each month (more if the gas prices keep going up) and it’s better for the environment and so on. But I haven’t tried it until today. And other than one teeny tiny little snafu I think I did pretty well!
So, this is where all you guys need to take a second and remind yourself that I am a normal sane woman on most days. Got it? Good.
The main reason I have not tried public transit before now is… I am afraid of the germs. There I said it. I don’t like sitting next to strangers. Particularly sniffling, bathing optional strangers which is what I had pictured when I thought of riding the train or bus. Also, for some strange reason someone ALWAYS sits next to me. There can be a handful of empty seats and someone will pass those up and sit next to me. I don’t know if it is because I am small and chances are good they’ll end up sitting next to someone anyway but… Who knows? But with a guaranteed seat-mate I am guaranteed to be exposed to germs.
Anywho, this morning I was determined to try it. I got up, got all ready and was out the door by 5:40. I parked at the train station and made a mental note of my parking stall number so I could pay for it in the station. I walked along in the dark, swiped my ticket and went inside to pay for the parking and… forgot my stupid parking stall number! Tomorrow morning I will write it down. I was pretty sure it was either 2865 or 2685 so I took a stab in the dark and chose one. I guess we’ll see tonight if I gambled correctly!
The train ride went smoothly, I was one of the first people on the train and, of course, a woman came in just as the doors were closing at sat next to me. But she didn’t smell bad and wasn’t coughing like the guy in front of us so all in all I was content. I switched trains with no problem, the first train arriving at the same time as the second train so I was able to walk right across the platform and board my next train, where shockingly no one sat next to me. I got off at my designated stop and followed the signs for the bus loading.
Except… where I got off? There were like 40 different bus stops. So I walked along looking for the one I needed and I couldn’t find it! I did a second walk by just to be sure and then all of a sudden had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had gotten off at the wrong stop! A woman from my office lives next to the station I was at and we had been talking about her picking me up at the train so we could carpool in to work from there. However, that was not the plan today. Today I needed to get off one station earlier so I could catch a connecting bus. Sheepishly I turned and headed back to the station, scanned my card and got on the next train heading that direction.
I chose to stand by the door for this trip since I was only going one stop and I was quickly back out in the bus loading zone but this time in the correct spot. I had no trouble finding my bus stop, even though the station is doing some serious remodeling/construction. I checked my schedule to see when the next bus would come since I had missed the bus I originally meant to take due to my detour. Ahem. These buses only come every half hour so I was afraid I had a long wait, in the freezing wind, ahead of me. Gladly I did not. I paid my fare and chose a seat close to the front where, of course, someone sat next to me (even though there were probably a dozen empty seats behind me – why? WHY do people do this?) and made it relatively quickly in to downtown and to work.
So my first experience with public transit, while not perfect, was certainly not terrible either. Even with my mistake of getting off at the wrong station (and a side trip to the first floor ladies room right away to wash my hands - germs!) I made it to my desk about 20–45 minutes earlier than I EVER get here driving. AND I got to listen to my iPod the whole way in. AND it is saving me gas and miles on my car. AND I’m helping the environment! Global warming is bad m’kay?
So yay me!
I know I have technically been commuting since we moved out to the wine country 7 months ago but at first I had TheBoy so we could take the carpool lane which made the trip shorter (and I had someone to talk to) and, as I’ve complained about before, for the last 2 months or so I’ve been driving it solo. There is nothing like sitting in traffic for 3-4 hours each day to make you want to drive your car off a cliff. I’m just saying is all.
But today? Today I took public transportation! I’ve been wanting too for quite some time actually. It has the potential to save me $200 in gas alone in my car each month (more if the gas prices keep going up) and it’s better for the environment and so on. But I haven’t tried it until today. And other than one teeny tiny little snafu I think I did pretty well!
So, this is where all you guys need to take a second and remind yourself that I am a normal sane woman on most days. Got it? Good.
The main reason I have not tried public transit before now is… I am afraid of the germs. There I said it. I don’t like sitting next to strangers. Particularly sniffling, bathing optional strangers which is what I had pictured when I thought of riding the train or bus. Also, for some strange reason someone ALWAYS sits next to me. There can be a handful of empty seats and someone will pass those up and sit next to me. I don’t know if it is because I am small and chances are good they’ll end up sitting next to someone anyway but… Who knows? But with a guaranteed seat-mate I am guaranteed to be exposed to germs.
Anywho, this morning I was determined to try it. I got up, got all ready and was out the door by 5:40. I parked at the train station and made a mental note of my parking stall number so I could pay for it in the station. I walked along in the dark, swiped my ticket and went inside to pay for the parking and… forgot my stupid parking stall number! Tomorrow morning I will write it down. I was pretty sure it was either 2865 or 2685 so I took a stab in the dark and chose one. I guess we’ll see tonight if I gambled correctly!
The train ride went smoothly, I was one of the first people on the train and, of course, a woman came in just as the doors were closing at sat next to me. But she didn’t smell bad and wasn’t coughing like the guy in front of us so all in all I was content. I switched trains with no problem, the first train arriving at the same time as the second train so I was able to walk right across the platform and board my next train, where shockingly no one sat next to me. I got off at my designated stop and followed the signs for the bus loading.
Except… where I got off? There were like 40 different bus stops. So I walked along looking for the one I needed and I couldn’t find it! I did a second walk by just to be sure and then all of a sudden had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had gotten off at the wrong stop! A woman from my office lives next to the station I was at and we had been talking about her picking me up at the train so we could carpool in to work from there. However, that was not the plan today. Today I needed to get off one station earlier so I could catch a connecting bus. Sheepishly I turned and headed back to the station, scanned my card and got on the next train heading that direction.
I chose to stand by the door for this trip since I was only going one stop and I was quickly back out in the bus loading zone but this time in the correct spot. I had no trouble finding my bus stop, even though the station is doing some serious remodeling/construction. I checked my schedule to see when the next bus would come since I had missed the bus I originally meant to take due to my detour. Ahem. These buses only come every half hour so I was afraid I had a long wait, in the freezing wind, ahead of me. Gladly I did not. I paid my fare and chose a seat close to the front where, of course, someone sat next to me (even though there were probably a dozen empty seats behind me – why? WHY do people do this?) and made it relatively quickly in to downtown and to work.
So my first experience with public transit, while not perfect, was certainly not terrible either. Even with my mistake of getting off at the wrong station (and a side trip to the first floor ladies room right away to wash my hands - germs!) I made it to my desk about 20–45 minutes earlier than I EVER get here driving. AND I got to listen to my iPod the whole way in. AND it is saving me gas and miles on my car. AND I’m helping the environment! Global warming is bad m’kay?
So yay me!
Friday, April 04, 2008
I love the DMV (I kid, I kid)
I had to go renew my driver’s license today as it expires next week. I have previously been able to renew my license via mail however this year I did not change my address with the DMV soon enough and they mailed the forms to our old apartment. It apparently takes an act of Congress and more super powers than I possess to get someone at the DMV to send you a duplicate set of forms so off I went.
I knew this whole shebang was not going to go well when I strolled in to the DMV 15 minutes early for my appointment, only to be told I was mistaken and that my appointment was an hour later than I thought. The lady working the desk was very nice and informed me that I was welcome to wait but they wouldn’t take me before my appointment. I could either go to the coffee shop down the street and come back later or I could add myself to the “walk-in” queue, wait time approximately two and a half hours.
So I did the logical thing and went down and got myself a cup of coffee and people watched the yuppie Pleasanton soccer moms. It was at the same time relaxing and annoying because I wanted to get the DMV thing over with sooner rather than later as I still had to drive into work today. About half an hour later I got bored at the coffee shop and decided to head back to the DMV and read the book I thankfully remembered to bring.
I don’t know if any of you have been to the DMV recently but they are SO much more high tech than they were a decade ago when I took my initial driver’s test. I walked in and the woman (same nice lady) looked me up, gave me the forms to fill out and pointed me to a seat. Once I had the form filled out she took the clipboard and other paraphernalia and punched something into this little machine and out popped a number on a slip of paper. All around the room were TV screens displaying various numbers and which desk those numbers should go to. Mas fancy.
I settled in to wait and dug out my book and made some sort of polite comment to the lady on my right about the fancy high tech thingamajig. She was equally impressed and we began a conversation lamenting the release of our current licenses with their younger photos and smaller numbers in the weight field and the joys of taking our behind the wheel tests. She remarked to me that she failed the first time she took the driving test only to be told at her second appointment that the man who had administered her test always failed people who came in on their 16th birthday. I guess it was his thing. But how disappointing to fail the driver’s test on your sweet 16 birthday!?!? It totally ruined her birthday and I could totally understand.
I then shared the story of MY behind the wheel driver’s test and how I too failed it the first time. I had practiced SO hard and was really excited and feeling confident the day of my test (which was the day AFTER my 16th birthday – cheerleading practice – you know). I remember my mom had a Honda or some other such foreign four door sedan that I was going to be driving. Things for my test appeared to be going really well and the guy who was administering the test was friendly. Back up along the curb – check, three point turn, check. I was doing great!
As we were finishing up and heading back to the DMV we stopped at a red light and waited for me to make a left turn. When the light turned green I zipped right out there and made my left turn. I looked over smiling to the guy, sure I was going to pass with flying colors, and in a very dry voice he said “there was no left turn arrow at that light”. Whoops! Is that bad? Needless to say I didn’t make THAT mistake the second time around and managed to get my license on the second try.
And I always check to see whether I am at a left arrow or not before turning now. Ahem.
Anyway, this conversation with the woman in the waiting room passed the time quickly and I had barely had a chance to read my novel when my number was called. The rest of the test passed quickly, with only a minor scare at the eye test (my eyes and mouth don’t work so well in tandem), and I was quickly being handed my temporary slip of paper showing my license was not indeed expired. I managed to get out of there a mere three and a half hours later, which would have been only two and a half if I had managed to get my appointment time right.
Just think! I get to repeat this whole scenario in a few months when I change my name. Woo Hoo!
I knew this whole shebang was not going to go well when I strolled in to the DMV 15 minutes early for my appointment, only to be told I was mistaken and that my appointment was an hour later than I thought. The lady working the desk was very nice and informed me that I was welcome to wait but they wouldn’t take me before my appointment. I could either go to the coffee shop down the street and come back later or I could add myself to the “walk-in” queue, wait time approximately two and a half hours.
So I did the logical thing and went down and got myself a cup of coffee and people watched the yuppie Pleasanton soccer moms. It was at the same time relaxing and annoying because I wanted to get the DMV thing over with sooner rather than later as I still had to drive into work today. About half an hour later I got bored at the coffee shop and decided to head back to the DMV and read the book I thankfully remembered to bring.
I don’t know if any of you have been to the DMV recently but they are SO much more high tech than they were a decade ago when I took my initial driver’s test. I walked in and the woman (same nice lady) looked me up, gave me the forms to fill out and pointed me to a seat. Once I had the form filled out she took the clipboard and other paraphernalia and punched something into this little machine and out popped a number on a slip of paper. All around the room were TV screens displaying various numbers and which desk those numbers should go to. Mas fancy.
I settled in to wait and dug out my book and made some sort of polite comment to the lady on my right about the fancy high tech thingamajig. She was equally impressed and we began a conversation lamenting the release of our current licenses with their younger photos and smaller numbers in the weight field and the joys of taking our behind the wheel tests. She remarked to me that she failed the first time she took the driving test only to be told at her second appointment that the man who had administered her test always failed people who came in on their 16th birthday. I guess it was his thing. But how disappointing to fail the driver’s test on your sweet 16 birthday!?!? It totally ruined her birthday and I could totally understand.
I then shared the story of MY behind the wheel driver’s test and how I too failed it the first time. I had practiced SO hard and was really excited and feeling confident the day of my test (which was the day AFTER my 16th birthday – cheerleading practice – you know). I remember my mom had a Honda or some other such foreign four door sedan that I was going to be driving. Things for my test appeared to be going really well and the guy who was administering the test was friendly. Back up along the curb – check, three point turn, check. I was doing great!
As we were finishing up and heading back to the DMV we stopped at a red light and waited for me to make a left turn. When the light turned green I zipped right out there and made my left turn. I looked over smiling to the guy, sure I was going to pass with flying colors, and in a very dry voice he said “there was no left turn arrow at that light”. Whoops! Is that bad? Needless to say I didn’t make THAT mistake the second time around and managed to get my license on the second try.
And I always check to see whether I am at a left arrow or not before turning now. Ahem.
Anyway, this conversation with the woman in the waiting room passed the time quickly and I had barely had a chance to read my novel when my number was called. The rest of the test passed quickly, with only a minor scare at the eye test (my eyes and mouth don’t work so well in tandem), and I was quickly being handed my temporary slip of paper showing my license was not indeed expired. I managed to get out of there a mere three and a half hours later, which would have been only two and a half if I had managed to get my appointment time right.
Just think! I get to repeat this whole scenario in a few months when I change my name. Woo Hoo!
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Reason # 218 why I hate my birthday
I stood in the shower this morning and cried for almost half an hour. Then I got out of the shower and lay back down in bed, where I cried some more. All of this before I managed to pull my shit together and get dressed and leave for work. I don’t know how some people spend years in unsatisfying and non-stimulating jobs. I almost wish I could be one of those people right now. Because right now? I absolutely HATE my job.
It’s actually pretty conflicting really. I love my boss. He’s probably the most understanding and generous boss I have ever had. I love our clients. I like talking to them and hearing their stories. So what is the problem? I am bored. I feel completely non-challenged. I feel like I have learned all there is for me to learn in this position and I am ready to move on. I resent the normal tasks and stereotypes that come along with my job title. I want to move forward, move on.
Also? I hate the commute. HATE. I hate wasting two hours of my day to get to a job that doesn’t challenge me so I can sit bored to tears for nine hours only to get back in the car and waste another two hours. This mind numbing routine is draining. When I get home from work I am not in the mood to do anything except have a glass or three of wine. I don’t want to cook. I don’t want to clean. I don’t want to go to the gym (even though my fat ass needs to something fierce). Sometimes I feel too drained to even want to cuddle with my cat.
Sadly, I can not see a single way out of this situation. I need the income this job provides to pay the mortgage on our house. I can’t find another job that is 1) nearer to home, 2) challenging and 3) pays what I make now. So I’m stuck. I’m stuck wasting almost four hours a day doing nothing. I’m stuck working at a job that bores me to tears. I’m just stuck.
So why the title?
It’s no secret that I hate my birthday. Every year I take stock of where I am and realize how far it is from where I thought, from where I wanted to be by the time I hit this age. I thought that by this time I would have a fulfilling career, something I was passionate about. Because while I certainly have an aptitude for the line of work I am, I have no passion for it. I guess there are a lot of things that I thought would be different by now. I guess it’s just the overwhelming, soul sucking, completely draining way that I spend more than half of my allotted 24 hours each day that seems to take over the focus of my life.
I am doomed to be one of those people haunting the self-help aisle looking for answers to why I don’t have the life I want?
So far this is turning out to be a GREAT birthday.
It’s actually pretty conflicting really. I love my boss. He’s probably the most understanding and generous boss I have ever had. I love our clients. I like talking to them and hearing their stories. So what is the problem? I am bored. I feel completely non-challenged. I feel like I have learned all there is for me to learn in this position and I am ready to move on. I resent the normal tasks and stereotypes that come along with my job title. I want to move forward, move on.
Also? I hate the commute. HATE. I hate wasting two hours of my day to get to a job that doesn’t challenge me so I can sit bored to tears for nine hours only to get back in the car and waste another two hours. This mind numbing routine is draining. When I get home from work I am not in the mood to do anything except have a glass or three of wine. I don’t want to cook. I don’t want to clean. I don’t want to go to the gym (even though my fat ass needs to something fierce). Sometimes I feel too drained to even want to cuddle with my cat.
Sadly, I can not see a single way out of this situation. I need the income this job provides to pay the mortgage on our house. I can’t find another job that is 1) nearer to home, 2) challenging and 3) pays what I make now. So I’m stuck. I’m stuck wasting almost four hours a day doing nothing. I’m stuck working at a job that bores me to tears. I’m just stuck.
So why the title?
It’s no secret that I hate my birthday. Every year I take stock of where I am and realize how far it is from where I thought, from where I wanted to be by the time I hit this age. I thought that by this time I would have a fulfilling career, something I was passionate about. Because while I certainly have an aptitude for the line of work I am, I have no passion for it. I guess there are a lot of things that I thought would be different by now. I guess it’s just the overwhelming, soul sucking, completely draining way that I spend more than half of my allotted 24 hours each day that seems to take over the focus of my life.
I am doomed to be one of those people haunting the self-help aisle looking for answers to why I don’t have the life I want?
So far this is turning out to be a GREAT birthday.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Someone I used to know
At the sound of my name I looked up from where I stood contemplating the back of the latest novel being promoted by Starbucks. I scanned the crowd for a moment before settling on a face I hadn’t seen in several years – the source of the voice calling my name. In the half second it took him to make his way to me through the line I stood, shocked maybe, and scanned the face that was at once familiar and strange to me. So many things had changed about him, his hair peppered with grey, more lines around his mouth and eyes which somehow made him look handsome instead of old, he was heavier than I remembered but it looked good on him, gone was the mustache I secretly hated. His smile was the same though, slightly lopsided and fast, it used to be my favorite feature of his, reminding me more of the smile from a 10 year old boy looking for approval on something wild and crazy he had done than that of a respectable man of 40.
Conversation was awkward as we struggled to find something to say. We talked about my pending wedding, to the man I left him for. We talked about his marriage and pending divorce, his daughter. The man who swore he would never have children grinned like a fool when talking about the little girl who changed his life. “The only woman I’ll trust from now on”, he joked. I smiled. It was good to see him. We talked about what we had been doing in the several years since we’ve seen one another. I regaled him with stories of schizophrenic bosses, starting my own company, being unemployed and finally finding balance, of buying a house. He told me of his move from one career into another, his relocation to the city and decision to move back, being unemployed and finally settling for work that he swore he’d never do again yet pays better and more steadily than anything he’s had in awhile.
We moved from standing in front of the bar to outside, realizing that after the catch up was over there really wasn’t too much to say and yet hesitant somewhat to leave. We could each feel the strangeness in how someone we used to know so well could turn into a stranger in a manner of years. We laughed about how utterly wrong for each other we had been and yet how much fun we’d shared. I told him I was thankful there was never any bad blood between us at the end. He acknowledged that it had certainly been time to move on and joked about how he had “forgiven” me for finding someone more suitable before he did. It was a fun conversation, a friendly one. I remembered what I had liked about him before. I remembered why the choice, when it was presented to me, had been almost embarrassingly easy. He was/is a good man, just not the man for me.
As we said our goodbyes one of my co-workers walked by us and in to Starbucks. I caught her eye and the raised eyebrow. I’m not one to stand on street corners talking to strange men after all. We talked about getting together, an empty offer as neither of us offered updated contact information. I think we both realized that there isn’t a place for one another in the new lives we’ve built since we parted. A quick hug and wishes for a wonderful marriage for me and general good things for him and he walked away. As I stood watching him go my co-worker came out with her cup of coffee. “Who’s the tall, dark and handsome stranger?” she asked. An explanation would take too long. And really, did I know the answer? “Just someone I used to know”, I replied as we walked back into the office.
Conversation was awkward as we struggled to find something to say. We talked about my pending wedding, to the man I left him for. We talked about his marriage and pending divorce, his daughter. The man who swore he would never have children grinned like a fool when talking about the little girl who changed his life. “The only woman I’ll trust from now on”, he joked. I smiled. It was good to see him. We talked about what we had been doing in the several years since we’ve seen one another. I regaled him with stories of schizophrenic bosses, starting my own company, being unemployed and finally finding balance, of buying a house. He told me of his move from one career into another, his relocation to the city and decision to move back, being unemployed and finally settling for work that he swore he’d never do again yet pays better and more steadily than anything he’s had in awhile.
We moved from standing in front of the bar to outside, realizing that after the catch up was over there really wasn’t too much to say and yet hesitant somewhat to leave. We could each feel the strangeness in how someone we used to know so well could turn into a stranger in a manner of years. We laughed about how utterly wrong for each other we had been and yet how much fun we’d shared. I told him I was thankful there was never any bad blood between us at the end. He acknowledged that it had certainly been time to move on and joked about how he had “forgiven” me for finding someone more suitable before he did. It was a fun conversation, a friendly one. I remembered what I had liked about him before. I remembered why the choice, when it was presented to me, had been almost embarrassingly easy. He was/is a good man, just not the man for me.
As we said our goodbyes one of my co-workers walked by us and in to Starbucks. I caught her eye and the raised eyebrow. I’m not one to stand on street corners talking to strange men after all. We talked about getting together, an empty offer as neither of us offered updated contact information. I think we both realized that there isn’t a place for one another in the new lives we’ve built since we parted. A quick hug and wishes for a wonderful marriage for me and general good things for him and he walked away. As I stood watching him go my co-worker came out with her cup of coffee. “Who’s the tall, dark and handsome stranger?” she asked. An explanation would take too long. And really, did I know the answer? “Just someone I used to know”, I replied as we walked back into the office.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The easy path
I was having lunch with a friend the other day and the chit chat quickly turned to her favorite topic – her boyfriend and all the many things their relationship is lacking. Those of you who have been with me awhile know that I caution against constant bf-bashing. A caution that comes from personal experience I might add. I often wondered in my younger days why my friends hated my boyfriend so much when really all they had to go on was what I told them of how he treated me and I never shared the good things only the bad. Because when you are happy you don’t have a cause to call your girlfriends at all hours to share and dissect every meaning. You just are happy. But when things go wrong… Break out the speed dial.
For this particular friend, however much I would normally discourage this sort of conversation, I really feel for her and the situation she is in. She loves this man, he is for all intents and purposes, a good man. He isn’t mean, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t gawk at other women… He’s what I would call “a nice guy”. But she isn’t happy. He doesn’t support her the way she wishes he would, he isn’t affectionate, rarely says I love you. They are the best of friends and very close but there is something missing.
She has spent countless hours agonizing over this. He’s a good man, she loves him, he treats her well, but… There is always a but isn’t there? I honestly don’t know what the best course of action is for her, I would never presume to interfere in someone’s relationship. I did that once in college and it backfired. Big time. But that’s a story for another day. All I could do was listen and support her, tell her all the things she already knows.
But on my way back to the office from lunch I found myself still thinking about her and her situation, about how sad and discouraged she looked talking about it to me. I kept wishing I had the cahones to tell her that she should never feel ashamed of what she needs, if she needs affection she should be able to get it and not feel guilty about it. I wish I could tell her that she shouldn’t settle for what she’s being given just because it isn’t terrible and because she thinks it should be enough. The truth is that, for her, it isn’t enough. She shouldn’t be afraid to be who she is, to ask for what she wants, and to share what she is feeling wholeheartedly with her boyfriend and not feel like she is being judged for it. To be told that she’s just “being a girl” and overreacting. Don’t even get me started on how much I hate that particular little misogynistic saying.
And yet, in her situation, would I stand up for myself? Or would I take the easy path? It’s an interesting dynamic… And I can’t stop wondering…
For this particular friend, however much I would normally discourage this sort of conversation, I really feel for her and the situation she is in. She loves this man, he is for all intents and purposes, a good man. He isn’t mean, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t gawk at other women… He’s what I would call “a nice guy”. But she isn’t happy. He doesn’t support her the way she wishes he would, he isn’t affectionate, rarely says I love you. They are the best of friends and very close but there is something missing.
She has spent countless hours agonizing over this. He’s a good man, she loves him, he treats her well, but… There is always a but isn’t there? I honestly don’t know what the best course of action is for her, I would never presume to interfere in someone’s relationship. I did that once in college and it backfired. Big time. But that’s a story for another day. All I could do was listen and support her, tell her all the things she already knows.
But on my way back to the office from lunch I found myself still thinking about her and her situation, about how sad and discouraged she looked talking about it to me. I kept wishing I had the cahones to tell her that she should never feel ashamed of what she needs, if she needs affection she should be able to get it and not feel guilty about it. I wish I could tell her that she shouldn’t settle for what she’s being given just because it isn’t terrible and because she thinks it should be enough. The truth is that, for her, it isn’t enough. She shouldn’t be afraid to be who she is, to ask for what she wants, and to share what she is feeling wholeheartedly with her boyfriend and not feel like she is being judged for it. To be told that she’s just “being a girl” and overreacting. Don’t even get me started on how much I hate that particular little misogynistic saying.
And yet, in her situation, would I stand up for myself? Or would I take the easy path? It’s an interesting dynamic… And I can’t stop wondering…
Friday, February 08, 2008
The Song Remembers When
You know how a song can trigger memories? Certain songs will always put me in the company of certain friends, recalling memories long forgotten, remind me of the person I was. Mostly these memories are good, sometimes not, but all remind me of a piece of me. I think this is the hazard of having my iPod on random shuffle at the gym. The other night I mentally traveled over a dozen years or more…
First to come on in the memory rotation was Insensitive by Jann Arden . Ahhh… High School. My friend Kelly and I used to blare this song any time it came on the radio. In her room, in my car… where ever. The latest boy being serenaded about “vagueness in your eyes and casual good-byes” by us at the top of our lungs. High School boys being insensitive by nature, I thought I would never feel the heartbreak I thought I felt then. I was wrong. I wonder sometimes about Kelly also, my friend that I shared so much happiness and heartache with. I hear through the grapevine that she’s working, still living locally, and yet I find it hard to reach out to her. I suppose I am uncertain of my welcome, ah the drama of youthful misunderstandings.
Up next, the song that has been so often played over the last year you’d think I would remove it from my iPod entirely, Rhianna’s Umbrella. I apologize now if anyone gets that chorus stuck in their head from this post. Umbrella, eh, eh, eh. Back when the song was new(ish) my friend Cate and I had gone to a Chili Cook-Off with TheBoy. We heard the song on the way to the event and that was it – instant repeat. A bajillion cups of chili and way too many beers later, the song came on again, on the car ride home. Cate and I were drunkenly singing along when TheBoy informed us that we were crazy… There was no “umbrella” in that song. I believe he thought the lyrics were something along the lines of “you can stand under my arm forever”. Foolish Boy. Of course we then proceeded to find the song on his iPod and play it on repeat the entire 25 minute ride home, being sure to emphasize every time the word umbrella was mentioned. I’m sure looking back we were highly annoying but after a few beers? Eh… good times!
What About by Janet Jackson.. This album got me through my first year of college. I danced with a company at the local junior college and several of these songs were featured in the show. It was my “get ready to go out with the girls” album. Every song meant something to me. Especially What About. At the time I was dating my high school sweetheart still. Things were rocky and I knew he didn’t love me. Like a foolish girl I couldn’t seem to let go. Until I realized the truth of the words in this song. “What about the times you lied to me, What about the times you said no one would want me, What about all the shit you've done to me, What about that? What about the times you yelled at me, What about the times I cried, You wouldn't even hold me, What about those things? What about that?” I’d like to say I found the courage to leave him from this song. Sadly, that day didn’t come for several more years.
And then the infamous Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard. This song was my car’s anthem y’all. I would go flying around downtown, top down, sunglasses on, blaring this song at full volume and singing along at the top of my lungs. I wonder sometimes what people thought as a drove by, young blonde woman, hair flying, screaming about “pour some sugar on me, in the name of love!” Ah youth. I’m not saying I still don’t squeal like a girl and drag my friends out on the dance floor anytime it comes on… But I don’t play it quite as loud in my car any longer. No need for the neighbors to know exactly when I come and go. And that car has lasted me almost 8 years. We have a LOT of memories together.
Of course other songs played during my stint on the treadmill, these are the few that I am still remembering days later. It almost makes me look forward to going to a run again tonight. Where will I travel down memory lane? Will I be happy, nostalgic, angry at myself or at someone else?
What songs carry memories for you?
First to come on in the memory rotation was Insensitive by Jann Arden . Ahhh… High School. My friend Kelly and I used to blare this song any time it came on the radio. In her room, in my car… where ever. The latest boy being serenaded about “vagueness in your eyes and casual good-byes” by us at the top of our lungs. High School boys being insensitive by nature, I thought I would never feel the heartbreak I thought I felt then. I was wrong. I wonder sometimes about Kelly also, my friend that I shared so much happiness and heartache with. I hear through the grapevine that she’s working, still living locally, and yet I find it hard to reach out to her. I suppose I am uncertain of my welcome, ah the drama of youthful misunderstandings.
Up next, the song that has been so often played over the last year you’d think I would remove it from my iPod entirely, Rhianna’s Umbrella. I apologize now if anyone gets that chorus stuck in their head from this post. Umbrella, eh, eh, eh. Back when the song was new(ish) my friend Cate and I had gone to a Chili Cook-Off with TheBoy. We heard the song on the way to the event and that was it – instant repeat. A bajillion cups of chili and way too many beers later, the song came on again, on the car ride home. Cate and I were drunkenly singing along when TheBoy informed us that we were crazy… There was no “umbrella” in that song. I believe he thought the lyrics were something along the lines of “you can stand under my arm forever”. Foolish Boy. Of course we then proceeded to find the song on his iPod and play it on repeat the entire 25 minute ride home, being sure to emphasize every time the word umbrella was mentioned. I’m sure looking back we were highly annoying but after a few beers? Eh… good times!
What About by Janet Jackson.. This album got me through my first year of college. I danced with a company at the local junior college and several of these songs were featured in the show. It was my “get ready to go out with the girls” album. Every song meant something to me. Especially What About. At the time I was dating my high school sweetheart still. Things were rocky and I knew he didn’t love me. Like a foolish girl I couldn’t seem to let go. Until I realized the truth of the words in this song. “What about the times you lied to me, What about the times you said no one would want me, What about all the shit you've done to me, What about that? What about the times you yelled at me, What about the times I cried, You wouldn't even hold me, What about those things? What about that?” I’d like to say I found the courage to leave him from this song. Sadly, that day didn’t come for several more years.
And then the infamous Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard. This song was my car’s anthem y’all. I would go flying around downtown, top down, sunglasses on, blaring this song at full volume and singing along at the top of my lungs. I wonder sometimes what people thought as a drove by, young blonde woman, hair flying, screaming about “pour some sugar on me, in the name of love!” Ah youth. I’m not saying I still don’t squeal like a girl and drag my friends out on the dance floor anytime it comes on… But I don’t play it quite as loud in my car any longer. No need for the neighbors to know exactly when I come and go. And that car has lasted me almost 8 years. We have a LOT of memories together.
Of course other songs played during my stint on the treadmill, these are the few that I am still remembering days later. It almost makes me look forward to going to a run again tonight. Where will I travel down memory lane? Will I be happy, nostalgic, angry at myself or at someone else?
What songs carry memories for you?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Introspection
I heard that you called recently. I knew by the halting way she said “you’ll never guess who called me” almost as if she wasn’t sure she should tell me. I felt the bile rise in my throat, body heat seeming to simultaneously drain from my face and leave my chest burning, the unwelcome (unnecessary) tears spring to my eyes, all before I ever heard who, you, had called.
I hate that news of you still affects me that way. How just the thought of you, rising unbidden to the forefront of my mind can make me feel… unhappy, insignificant, unloved. The grown woman in me knows that I am none of those things and yet… I am. I hate that I am the poster child for how a woman can grow up to be relatively well adjusted without the influence of a father. I hate that people come to me for comfort when their own fathers fail in to live up to their expectations. I had no expectations. And somehow you failed to live up even to that.
So I’m getting married. I know you now know. I was relieved that you didn’t ask for details (knowing I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, have you there) and at the same time bitterly disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected. I certainly had no intention of inviting you, a complete stranger, to share in one of the happiest and most intimate days of my life. And yet, I feel the lack of your presence – if not of your presence in particular than a missing element.
You should know I don’t grieve for your absence the way I once did. It’s become more of an ache, something that lingers under the surface, barely noticed for the most part. You should also know that while I have not had the proper love of a father, I have had other men who love me as a daughter and express their joy in having me in their lives. You should know that I still miss you. You should know that I want you to stay gone.
I am relieved to be ridding myself of your name. I’ve been your daughter in name alone for longer than you ever were a father to me. Maybe then, once I no longer have that last lingering tie to you, I will feel free. Maybe then I will cease to think of you, to wonder about your life. The life you chose in place of me.
I found your address on the internet. In a moment of weakness I looked. I’ve had it for almost a year. I have debated about sending you a letter, wondering alternately if it would have any impact other than making your new family angry at the reminder of my presence. Sometimes I want to do it just to make them angry, to share some of this hurt with them. I’ve fanaticized about flying out there, of driving by your house, of having you glimpse me from a distance. Would you know me? Or would there be only something vaguely familiar, something you can’t quite put your finger on?
I resent that you still call her. I know you explained to me how she was the love of your life, how you regret getting divorced, how you were glad to have me as a last link to her. I know that you told me those things but know that I do not, or can not, accept them. Because believing those words you spoke so long ago only enforces what I am to you, nothing.
I hate that news of you still affects me that way. How just the thought of you, rising unbidden to the forefront of my mind can make me feel… unhappy, insignificant, unloved. The grown woman in me knows that I am none of those things and yet… I am. I hate that I am the poster child for how a woman can grow up to be relatively well adjusted without the influence of a father. I hate that people come to me for comfort when their own fathers fail in to live up to their expectations. I had no expectations. And somehow you failed to live up even to that.
So I’m getting married. I know you now know. I was relieved that you didn’t ask for details (knowing I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, have you there) and at the same time bitterly disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected. I certainly had no intention of inviting you, a complete stranger, to share in one of the happiest and most intimate days of my life. And yet, I feel the lack of your presence – if not of your presence in particular than a missing element.
You should know I don’t grieve for your absence the way I once did. It’s become more of an ache, something that lingers under the surface, barely noticed for the most part. You should also know that while I have not had the proper love of a father, I have had other men who love me as a daughter and express their joy in having me in their lives. You should know that I still miss you. You should know that I want you to stay gone.
I am relieved to be ridding myself of your name. I’ve been your daughter in name alone for longer than you ever were a father to me. Maybe then, once I no longer have that last lingering tie to you, I will feel free. Maybe then I will cease to think of you, to wonder about your life. The life you chose in place of me.
I found your address on the internet. In a moment of weakness I looked. I’ve had it for almost a year. I have debated about sending you a letter, wondering alternately if it would have any impact other than making your new family angry at the reminder of my presence. Sometimes I want to do it just to make them angry, to share some of this hurt with them. I’ve fanaticized about flying out there, of driving by your house, of having you glimpse me from a distance. Would you know me? Or would there be only something vaguely familiar, something you can’t quite put your finger on?
I resent that you still call her. I know you explained to me how she was the love of your life, how you regret getting divorced, how you were glad to have me as a last link to her. I know that you told me those things but know that I do not, or can not, accept them. Because believing those words you spoke so long ago only enforces what I am to you, nothing.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Wedding Planning Update
I think I am finally getting into the swing of this whole wedding thing… I’ve accomplished more in the last month than I have in the 4 months or so we’ve been engaged!
Save The Date cards printed and mailed – check
Flowers decided on and ordered – check
Wedding dress purchased – check
Bridesmaids’ dresses purchased – check, check
Photographers met with = 2
Photography contract signed – check
Caterers spoken to over the phone / e-mail = 3
Caterers I’m planning on meeting with in February = 2
Shoes purchased for wedding dress – check (with the added caveat I might find another pair I like more – I reserve that right since I have a minor obsession with shoes)
Stores registered at = 3 (this is a work in progress)
Hotels contacted about group rates for guests = 3
Hotels actually giving us a group rate = 1
Wedding website up and running – check
Wedding cakes sampled (courtesy of my soon to be MIL) – check (also, yum!)
That doesn’t even include the things we’re still working on including the Hawaiian shirts for the groomsmen and a new suit for TheBoy. Areas yet to be tackled include the honeymoon, the timing of which depends greatly on another wedding we are attending in the fall. But all in all I’m happy with my progress.
Save The Date cards printed and mailed – check
Flowers decided on and ordered – check
Wedding dress purchased – check
Bridesmaids’ dresses purchased – check, check
Photographers met with = 2
Photography contract signed – check
Caterers spoken to over the phone / e-mail = 3
Caterers I’m planning on meeting with in February = 2
Shoes purchased for wedding dress – check (with the added caveat I might find another pair I like more – I reserve that right since I have a minor obsession with shoes)
Stores registered at = 3 (this is a work in progress)
Hotels contacted about group rates for guests = 3
Hotels actually giving us a group rate = 1
Wedding website up and running – check
Wedding cakes sampled (courtesy of my soon to be MIL) – check (also, yum!)
That doesn’t even include the things we’re still working on including the Hawaiian shirts for the groomsmen and a new suit for TheBoy. Areas yet to be tackled include the honeymoon, the timing of which depends greatly on another wedding we are attending in the fall. But all in all I’m happy with my progress.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Puerto Vallarta
We arrived in Puerto Vallarta after a sleepless night spent either in the air or waiting for our connecting flight in the International Airport in Mexico City. Neither place was conducive to sleeping but we tried. After procuring both our luggage and a taxi cab we finally made our way out to our hotel. Riding through the hotel district and then the marina area we both had our car windows rolled down and were enjoying both the warm sunny weather and the fact that we were blissfully free from any responsibilities for 5 days. Paradise!
Our hotel was located just at the beginning of the downtown area and the Malecon (boardwalk). After some initial snafu with our room (the first one they assigned us had one tiny window that overlooked the interior of the hotel and was very dark and dreary) we settled into our ocean view suite overlooking the swimming pool and bar area. The waves crashed just under our balcony it seemed and literally I could have thrown something from our room and have it land on the sand. We slept with the sliding glass door open every night and enjoyed several beautiful sunsets on our balcony.
The first order of business that first day was to wander around and get the lay of the land. We left our hotel and wandered in the direction of downtown, taking note of which taco stands were busiest and generally enjoying our new environment. First order of business? $1 Pacifico beers over looking the ocean along the Malecon. It was heaven. We wandered some more and found a wonderful little taqueria where the owner was friendly and helpful. He practiced some of his English on us and I dusted off a few rusty sentences in Spanish. 6 tacos, 4 Pacificos, and 2 tequila shots = right about $7. Gotta love Mexico!
We fell into an easy routine. I would wake up in the morning about 9:00 am and slather my lily white self with SPF45 and head down to the pool with my book for a couple hours until I felt TheBoy had slept long enough. We would then shower and head out in search of some breakfast. The afternoons were spent poking through shops and spending time in the flea market. We almost always found a screaming deal on Happy Hour cocktails, once involving a real coconut which was split open for us after the drink was gone and sprinkled with salt, red pepper flakes and hot sauce – it was divine! We would head back to the room to watch the sunset either from the pool area or from our balcony and then change and rest up for dinner. Dinners were cheap, several great little taquerias were within steps of our hotel. We would often stop for a late-night snack at one of the taco trucks that stayed open all night.
We didn’t do anything touristy. No tours of Tequila. No whale watching. No snorkeling. No booze cruises. What we did do was relax and defrost our frozen, soggy selves from the gloom that always accompanies winter for me. We spent time together just laughing and enjoying each other’s company. There was no talk of the wedding (except for the occasional vendor asking if we were honeymooners or “jus practicing”). No jobs to stress over. No home projects to consider. It was truly the best vacation I think I have had in ages. No agenda. No worries. Just fun.
Our hotel was located just at the beginning of the downtown area and the Malecon (boardwalk). After some initial snafu with our room (the first one they assigned us had one tiny window that overlooked the interior of the hotel and was very dark and dreary) we settled into our ocean view suite overlooking the swimming pool and bar area. The waves crashed just under our balcony it seemed and literally I could have thrown something from our room and have it land on the sand. We slept with the sliding glass door open every night and enjoyed several beautiful sunsets on our balcony.
The first order of business that first day was to wander around and get the lay of the land. We left our hotel and wandered in the direction of downtown, taking note of which taco stands were busiest and generally enjoying our new environment. First order of business? $1 Pacifico beers over looking the ocean along the Malecon. It was heaven. We wandered some more and found a wonderful little taqueria where the owner was friendly and helpful. He practiced some of his English on us and I dusted off a few rusty sentences in Spanish. 6 tacos, 4 Pacificos, and 2 tequila shots = right about $7. Gotta love Mexico!
We fell into an easy routine. I would wake up in the morning about 9:00 am and slather my lily white self with SPF45 and head down to the pool with my book for a couple hours until I felt TheBoy had slept long enough. We would then shower and head out in search of some breakfast. The afternoons were spent poking through shops and spending time in the flea market. We almost always found a screaming deal on Happy Hour cocktails, once involving a real coconut which was split open for us after the drink was gone and sprinkled with salt, red pepper flakes and hot sauce – it was divine! We would head back to the room to watch the sunset either from the pool area or from our balcony and then change and rest up for dinner. Dinners were cheap, several great little taquerias were within steps of our hotel. We would often stop for a late-night snack at one of the taco trucks that stayed open all night.
We didn’t do anything touristy. No tours of Tequila. No whale watching. No snorkeling. No booze cruises. What we did do was relax and defrost our frozen, soggy selves from the gloom that always accompanies winter for me. We spent time together just laughing and enjoying each other’s company. There was no talk of the wedding (except for the occasional vendor asking if we were honeymooners or “jus practicing”). No jobs to stress over. No home projects to consider. It was truly the best vacation I think I have had in ages. No agenda. No worries. Just fun.
Friday, January 04, 2008
I am a terrible blogger.
I know this. And I would use the excuse that things are hectic around the holidays but I know it’s no good since many of my favorite bloggers ALSO were busy during the holidays and yet they all managed to put up some posts. What can I say?
"Hi, my name is Tiffany and I am a bad blogger. Forgive me for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last post."
Ha! Aren't you glad you're reading this? Ahem.
On the wedding front I finally decided to pull my head out of the sand and get some planning done… Save-the-Date cards have been ordered and should arrive early next week. Guest list is intact for the most part. I have my dress. The girls have their dresses (or have ordered them at least). I have been playing phone tag with a couple photographers. I have a consultation call scheduled for flowers. TheBoy and I ordered the knife we are cutting the cake with.
What is left on the list? Deciding on decorations, choosing the Hawaiian shirts for the guys, buying TheBoy a new suit, invitations, catering, music, honeymoon and… I’m sure about 52 million other things I haven’t thought of yet. This wedding business is really stressful y’all! I thought I would love it since it’s basically just a big party and I LOVE throwing parties but… no. I do enjoy sticking it to the wedding industry as a whole though. :D I didn’t buy a “wedding” dress, the girls are not wearing “bridesmaid” dresses, and so on. Seriously, if something has the words “wedding” or “bridal” attached to it the prices go up 10x!
Also, in the midst of the largest storm to hit CA in several years TheBoy and I scrapped our plans for a mini-vacay/road-trip over his birthday weekend and impulsively booked a trip to Mexico instead. That’s right. This time next week I will be lying on the beach, drinking a cocktail with a cute umbrella in it. Most importantly I will be warm. I really hate winter y’all. I think there might really be something to that whole seasonal depression thing. I’m just saying.
"Hi, my name is Tiffany and I am a bad blogger. Forgive me for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last post."
Ha! Aren't you glad you're reading this? Ahem.
On the wedding front I finally decided to pull my head out of the sand and get some planning done… Save-the-Date cards have been ordered and should arrive early next week. Guest list is intact for the most part. I have my dress. The girls have their dresses (or have ordered them at least). I have been playing phone tag with a couple photographers. I have a consultation call scheduled for flowers. TheBoy and I ordered the knife we are cutting the cake with.
What is left on the list? Deciding on decorations, choosing the Hawaiian shirts for the guys, buying TheBoy a new suit, invitations, catering, music, honeymoon and… I’m sure about 52 million other things I haven’t thought of yet. This wedding business is really stressful y’all! I thought I would love it since it’s basically just a big party and I LOVE throwing parties but… no. I do enjoy sticking it to the wedding industry as a whole though. :D I didn’t buy a “wedding” dress, the girls are not wearing “bridesmaid” dresses, and so on. Seriously, if something has the words “wedding” or “bridal” attached to it the prices go up 10x!
Also, in the midst of the largest storm to hit CA in several years TheBoy and I scrapped our plans for a mini-vacay/road-trip over his birthday weekend and impulsively booked a trip to Mexico instead. That’s right. This time next week I will be lying on the beach, drinking a cocktail with a cute umbrella in it. Most importantly I will be warm. I really hate winter y’all. I think there might really be something to that whole seasonal depression thing. I’m just saying.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Food!
I’ve been feeling lately like my whole life is in upheaval mode, with the move and the constant commuting and trying to fit in the gym five or six days a week, there really isn’t much time for me. Also, I’ve been struggling with the feeling of being isolated. I forget that when there is no traffic we’re only a 40 minute drive away from our friends, because I sit in traffic everyday coming home and it just feels SO FAR AWAY. I also HATE winter. HATE HATE HATE. I hate the cold, I hate that it’s barely light when I leave for work and twilight (if I’m lucky) by the time I get home. Seasonal depression makes a TON of sense to me.
So in the interest of maintaining my sanity and having something to focus on other than the dark and cold and far away-ness from my friends I’ve been trying to get back into cooking. Most of you know that I used to cook, A LOT. I sort of lost interest in my tee-tiny apartment kitchen and gradually stopped trying new things and experimenting, relying instead on the same few recipes that I knew TheBoy loved. Occasionally I would cook something fancy, when we had company or it was a special occasion, but truly it’s been forever since I actually cooked for the simple joy of cooking.
But the other night I made THE MOST AWESOME THING EVER.
**********
Grilled Chicken with Creamy Grits and Shiitake Mushroom SauceFor chicken1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary
1 small fryer chicken (about 3 pounds), quartered
For sauce
1 cup beef stock or canned beef broth
1 cup chicken stock or canned low-salt chicken broth
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 ounces thinly sliced pancetta, cut into matchstick-size strips (about 3/4 cup)
8 ounces fresh shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, sliced (about 3 cups)
3/4 cup whipping cream
1 tablespoon thinly sliced fresh sage leaves
For grits
1 1/2 cups chicken stock or canned low-salt chicken broth
1/2 cup whipping cream
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
1/2 cup quick-cooking grits
Make chicken:
Mix oil, garlic and rosemary in 13 x 9 x 2-inch glass baking dish. Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper. Add to oil mixture; turn to coat. Cover and refrigerate chicken at least 4 hours or overnight, turning occasionally.
Make sauce:
Boil both stocks and wine in heavy medium saucepan until reduced to 1 cup, about 15 minutes. Remove from heat.
Cook pancetta in heavy large skillet over medium-high heat until crisp and golden, stirring constantly, about 3 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer pancetta to bowl. Add mushrooms to same skillet and sauté until golden, about 4 minutes. Add stock mixture and cream to skillet and simmer until reduced to sauce consistency, about 5 minutes. Mix in pancetta and sage. Season to taste with pepper.
Meanwhile, prepare barbecue (medium-high heat). Remove chicken from marinade. Grill until cooked through, turning occasionally, about 30 minutes.
Make grits:
Bring stock, cream and butter to simmer in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Gradually whisk in grits. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook until grits are creamy and tender, stirring occasionally, about 6 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Spoon grits onto plates. Place chicken atop grits. Spoon sauce over; serve.
**********
The only changes I made were that I didn’t grill the chicken (we’re out of propane) and I didn’t use a whole chicken. I substituted bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (since I had them in the freezer) and I roasted them in the oven at 425 for about 20 minutes and then broiled them for a few minutes to get the pretty color. Also, I wouldn’t waste your money on shiitakes since the sauce is fairly overwhelming with the pancetta and broth reduction and cream. If you really like the flavor of shiitakes make something else, I’m just saying. I used a combo if white and cremini mushrooms. Much cheaper, still tasty.
Other than those changes I followed this recipe to a t (which I NEVER do but it got such good reviews I thought I wouldn’t mess with it). Y’all. Those grits are like the best I have ever had! I now have a new stand-by recipe. SO GOOD. And the sauce was so rich and creamy. Mmm… Not waist band friendly by any means but sometimes a girl just needs a full fat meal. And a half box of lactaid. :D
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