I'm Sure This Is All Very Interesting...

Write Your Own Ending

2011-11-23T02:42:00.003-05:00

So many things have changed since that last post, notably losing Milo, and then 13 months to the day later, losing Xena. I always knew that I would have to say goodbye to them both, but it hurt more than I was prepared for. Re-reading it, that feeling of profound sadness washes over me again. But the pain does subside, and years and years of happy memories filter into the void that their daily presence left - I miss them terribly, but it's a tribute to how wonderful they both were that K and I are now ready to adopt a couple more four-legged members of the family.

K lost his job, and we're once again dealing with the stress and pressure of unemployment. It's very difficult for both of us, but in very different ways. My job has been more stressful and difficult than I can ever remember, and I don't know when it's going to let up. All I know is that, with a family to support and a lot of debt to pay off (still - we're not accumulating new debt, but this is just taking for-fucking-ever and it's exhausting), I can't quit - I don't have the luxury of deciding to follow a dream I can't see anyway. I can't tell if work is really that bad (although most people I know seem to think it is), or if the feeling of being trapped makes it seem much worse than it actually is. The notorious instability of my field makes it that much more anxiety-inducing, because if I can't stay busy, I can lose my job. That thought makes it hard for me to turn down assignments (that, and my need to "help" people), and keeps me up at night. I make so many decisions based on fear these days. Or maybe I always did and just didn't recognize it.

K and I have, with great trepidation, started trying to have a family. When he was still gainfully employed, this was a much easier decision. I've gone back-and-forth since then, but since it's been a year and nothing is happening, and I'm surrounded everywhere I go by pregnant women or new moms, I'm starting to get a little sensitive about the topic, and I really, really hate that. I don't want to be the person that my friends tip-toe around when it comes to this subject. I don't want to be happy for someone and have that nagging twinge of sadness for myself. I just want to be happy for them. But I also want to be happy for me. My ambivalence on the subject only makes me feel worse, and my empty uterus makes the years and years of Nuvaring seem like a total waste of money (much as I know that's not a rational thought).

Some of our best friends have left the area, one couple temporarily and the other permanently. K's involvement in the music ministry at church was cut out from under him. My car is in need of repairs we can't afford and will have to be donated because we may really need that tax deduction when the time comes (we got screwed last year by unemployment). I just feel like a lot of things, big and small, are changing or ending. I feel very off-balance.

Someone asked me once what I thought the purpose was of this difficult time that we're going through. I thought about it for about half a second before I said that I thought it was about re-imagining our life. Mourning the loss of the life we're not going to have, if that's what needs to happen, and creating the life we want from our current circumstances. I think we both, either consciously or unconsciously, had a white picket fence-ish vision of our future. Modest house, two kids, two cats and a dog, vacations once a year (or twice if we were really lucky), him playing in a band for fun, me taking yoga classes a few days a week. Clearly that's not going to be it for us, and that's okay - that may not be right for us, we just need to release ourselves from that (at least some of that) and figure out who we are. What we really want. It's just hard some days, because I know I'm not always swimming in shit, but it feels like that a lot. So I try to drag my focus back to the things I have to be grateful for, and they're not inconsiderable.

At work, I have a fantastic boss who is really invested in my career growth. They pay me a good salary (and thank God for that), and I have good benefits (thank God for that as well). I have some wonderful co-workers that I really enjoy working with.

At home, I have a kind, loving, understanding, and supportive husband who would really do anything for me. I love him and I have more fun with him than anyone. We have a roof over our heads that we're still able to pay for, and we have good friends around us, even if a few very important faces are now missing from the crowd.

K is in a new band that just put out their fourth album, and it's been an amazing creative outlet for him. He's building and embracing his identity as an artist, and I couldn't be prouder of him.

There's a sweet calico cat in Virginia who will be coming home with us as soon as we can go get her, and there's a yet-to-be-identified kitty out there who will be joining her in bringing that kind of warmth and life back to our home. It's wonderful to be able to provide a good and loving home for an animal, but if my past experience has taught me anything, it's that they'll give us at least as much as we give them, if not more.

The Muppets is coming out tomorrow (or "later today" as I like to call it), and one of my nearest and dearest posted a line from The Muppet Movie on Facebook: Life's like a movie, write your own ending, keep believing, keep pretending. It may seem trite, but it's not. It's what I'm in the middle of right now, I just don't know what to write. We're trying to form a picture, trying to write our own ending. I have a vague idea now, but I don't know how to get there from here. I feel stuck, but I know that's also an illusion. I feel so burned out, I don't even know what I'm good at anymore - and I really don't feel like I'm doing anything up to my own standards. Unsurprisingly, this is adding to my stress at work. I don't know what will get me unstuck, but I have to believe that I can do it. I have to believe that there is more for us than this period of feeling like open doors are slammed shut and closed doors aren't opening. There's a window somewhere, dammit.

Keep believing, keep pretending...

Slipping Away

2010-08-12T13:32:00.003-04:00

It's been on my mind so much lately that I can't stop thinking about it - so I'm hoping that writing about it will help clear my head a little bit so that I can concentrate on some immediate things I have to concentrate on.

Milo is dying. And it's breaking my heart to watch him. I always knew this would hurt, and you know when you add a four-legged member to your family that you'll have to go through this one day, but the magnitude of my grief and the way it's affecting me is surprising, even to me.

In May, they found a mass on his lung. In June, he had major surgery to take it out. In July, we confirmed that it was cancer and that it was an extremely aggressive form. We started chemotherapy. And just this week, we found out that it's not working and that his cancer is spreading so quickly that the doctors weren't even expecting it. And after all of the visits to the doctor and the thousands of dollars spent on caring for him, we made the decision to stop treatment and focus on palliative care.

I am devastated.

So, now we wait. We wait and try to make him as comfortable as we can, and let him know that he's loved and cared for. I've had him since he was four weeks old, a little tiny kitten who used to fall asleep on my chest, right over my heart, and stay there for hours. He's the sweet, quirky cat who loves to jump up onto the bathroom sink so that you can turn the water on for him, who loves to spoon and cuddle with shoes, who lies on his back, belly exposed, because he's so comfortable in the safe home that we've given him. Everyone who meets him loves him, because he just wants to be loved and be around his people. And the thought of losing him, the experience of watching him slip away from me, staying the same sweet-natured cat despite getting a little more tired every day, is horrible. He doesn't appear to be in any pain right now, but I know that K and I will have to make a decision about his quality of life some day soon. The doctor said that the best case scenario for him is one month. After 12 years with me. I am not prepared to say goodbye, but that never really changes anything anyway.

The decision to stop treatment was both hard and easy. Hard, because I hate to feel like we're giving up on him in any way. And while I know that we've done everything we can, the problem still isn't fixed, and I hate that. Easy because...well, because he's been through a lot. He hates being in the car. He's terrified of the vet's office, although we have wonderful vets who have taken great care of him. But he just doesn't need to be a pin cushion anymore, since it's not working. He needs to be comfortable and happy - as much as he can be in the time we have left. Which could never be enough, but I'll take what I can get.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

2010-03-22T09:23:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking about that lately. And the answer is "no".

To clarify - it's not that there are no areas of my life that are fun. Special K and I have gone through a rough period with the stress of almost six months of unemployment, but I think we've managed to communicate better, get to know each other better, and generally survive in a way that's been healthy. (Not that it's been easy.) I'm also very blessed to have great friends and family - I'm a very, very fortunate person in so many ways. This is not about that.

It really centers on work. I like a lot of things about my job. My boss is great - very supportive and understanding. I have a lot of great co-workers. But I am still dissatisfied with the substance of what I'm doing sometimes, and while I do feel that I am paid well and have very little to complain about in that sense, I am burned out from working seemingly endless hours for the privilege of being told that I suck on a semi-regular basis -it's demoralizing after a while, and I'm a pretty resilient person. I also can't shake the feeling that the work I'm doing doesn't actually make a positive difference in the world. I feel like I've drifted, like when you get caught in a current and have no idea how the hell you got to be so far from the shore - I'm no longer the tree-hugger that I used to be. Well, I am, but I'm a tree-hugger in consultant's clothing. So, what do I do about that?

Well, it should start with a broader question - what am I good at?

I think I can start to answer this question without feeling like an arrogant jackass, because I'm at the point in my life and my career where I can say that I'm good at some things without feeling like it's not really true or it's considered "bragging" (what am I, in fifth grade?). So here we go: I am good at public speaking. I am good at teaching. I am good at taking complex concepts and breaking them down for people. And I still have, and will always have, a passion for the environment and social justice issues. Primarily the environment, as I feel that the ripple effect of either a healthy or a degraded natural environment impacts social justice issues tremendously.

So what's the problem? Well, the problem is that, because I've spent most of the last eight years as a consultant, with the last 5 spent on environmental compliance issues, I am, apparently, no longer qualified to work in conservation. (To say nothing of the fact that I couldn't take a 50% pay cut.) This is what I mean when I say that I've drifted. I have no idea how to swim back to where I should be. I know that I know this stuff - I know that I would be great at so many of the jobs I see posted. But I also know that no one is going to even look at my resume, much less put it at the top of the pile, because it doesn't say what they want it to say.

So, what's my solution? Well, I don't really know yet. I wish I had a better answer, but I don't. There are a lot of questions here - more questions than I have answers to.

Everyone Else Is Doing It...

2010-01-03T16:48:00.006-05:00

The whole "decade in review" thing seems to be popular with the kids, so in the interest of a little self-reflection (and because it gets quite jumbled in my head when I think about all that's happened over the last 10 years), here we go - The Oughts In Review.

2000 - Started off the year in New York, loving my crazy group of friends, time with my cousin in NYC, and knowing that if I stayed where I was, things wouldn't turn out the way they needed to. So I was deciding on which grad school to go to - University of Arizona or University of Wisconsin. I chose Wisconsin, mostly to be near family, but also because the program seemed to offer something a little different.

2001 - Continuing through grad school, trying to think about what I wanted to do with my life once I finished, feeling like staying in the Midwest was maybe not for me. Highlights were definitely seeing so much of my brother and his family (especially bonding with my nephew David), and my two best friends living in Chicago. Low point was being so far away from everyone I wanted to be with on Sept. 11th, and that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I thought my dad might have been on one of those planes.

2002 - Finished grad school and after some deliberation about where "home" would be next, I made the unexpected choice to return to a place I'd been before - Maryland. I was nervous because I didn't have a job, *really* nervous when I started working at Crate and Barrel again, and the relieved when I got a job somewhat closer to my field. Was thrilled to welcome my nephew John into the world.

2003 - Started off the year traveling to South Africa, which was the first time I'd left the country in a long time. I had wanted to do international work, so even though this was a short trip, I loved the experience. I experimented with online dating (not for me), and watched happily as five friends got married that summer/fall. Started training to volunteer with the DC Rape Crisis Center, and got mono because I had worn myself out completely.

2004 - Continued the online dating experiment. Clearly still not for me, although I got some good stories out of it. Started a new job with the promise of international travel. That promise took a while - the only new stamp in my passport for 2004 was from a mission trip to France (which was a wonderful and challenging experience). Welcomed my nephew Mikey to the family!

2005 - Had a fairly unhealthy relationship - nothing out of the ordinary, but I cared about him and he cared about him, leaving no one to care about me. It was draining. We broke up as I left for 3 months in Pakistan, which was interrupted by 7 weeks in Vietnam. I spent the summer working in Karachi, near the house I grew up in, swimming in the first pool I ever swam in. I then traveled to Ho Chi Minh City, and spent time exploring the Mekong Delta and all the shopping and culture that Ho Chi Minh City had to offer. I came home, stopping in England for a wonderful week where I saw Ewan McGregor in Guys and Dolls in the West End! Actually made peace with the idea of being single. Left again for two months in Vietnam. Came home via a week in Paris, which was wonderful - it is still one of my favorite cities in the whole world. Came home for three days and then left for my first two weeks in Yemen. Came home for Christmas and met this new guy Keith that my friend Sarah had been telling me about. Spent time with the friends I'd been missing dearly.

2006 - Spent the first two months in Yemen, feeling as isolated, yet under a microscope, as I ever have or ever hope to. I wouldn't change the experience but it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Came home for a friends' wedding and had to do some serious thinking about whether to continue as a road warrior or give it up. I had some opportunities that presented themselves, and decided to hang up my traveling shoes for a while. Continued to hang out with this new guy, Keith. Then realized somewhere along the way that I'd fallen in love with this friend of mine around whom I felt totally comfortable and totally myself. So we got engaged that September. I ruptured a disc in my lower back that December.

2007 - My niece Katie was born on January 16, I had back surgery on January 17, and my wedding shower on January 21st. Yowza. I recovered pretty well from surgery, after learning to let people do things for me when I needed it. We got married on March 16, 2007, which coincided with an ice storm/blizzard. Dammit. Despite the weather, many more people that I had expected made it out to celebrate with us, and it was the most fun I have ever had. Keith's mom had been suffering from liver disease and her condition deteriorated rapidly that spring. After much deliberation (and after she stabilized following many sleepless nights for us in the hospital), we went to Italy on our honeymoon, as planned, and returned home to find that they had found a donor liver and she'd had a liver transplant two days before we arrived back in DC. That fall I led the next mission trip to France and we spent some extra time in Paris at the end of the trip with some very close friends.

2008 - I started a new job and changed my name. Both were challenging for me. I traveled to Alaska and Guam, Keith and I started talking about when we'd like to think about starting a family. The answer was "not yet".

2009 - We welcomed a lot of new babies into our circle of friends, I started knitting again and have found it really very soothing. I retired from the Rape Crisis Center. We replaced his old car, Whitey, with a new Ford Escape hybrid that we call Angus. We are very grateful for Angus. We decided that we would start trying to have a baby in the spring of 2010. Keith lost his job and mine became more stressful than I can ever remember it being. We put family plans on hold pending a little more stability. Traveled to Puerto Rico to be with Keith's brother as he got married and took some much-needed (and pre-paid) time for ourselves at the end. Returned home, and after growing tired of crying on my way to and from work most days, I accepted that I am having a really hard time managing my life right now. So I started seeing a therapist. I have done a lot of soul-searching to ponder whether I'm really heading in the right direction, career-wise. I have more questions than answers at this point.

So there you have it. I'd say that at the age of 23, I probably wouldn't have guessed that I'd be where I am today. That's something of a comfort when I look ahead and have difficulty seeing through anything other than the lens of the hard time we're going through now. What would I like to be writing about in 2020? I can't always see that far ahead - but that's okay for now.

I had noticed, that, while not devoid of good things by any stretch, the odd-numbered years tended to be harder. In retrospect, while it's easy to say that they just sucked more, I think that's not true - they were harder because I had to learn a hell of a lot more. And while that can often suck in the moment, I have to say that looking back over all of it, I have usually emerged better for it. That which does not kill us and all that. Having said that, I'd still really like for 2010 to be a little easier, if that's okay.

Much like they say married couples keep having the same four fights over the course of their marriage, I find that I'm still struggling with some of the same things. Balance. Identity. Direction. Self-forgiveness. I know myself much better than I did then, I'm much stronger and more self-assured than I was then, and thank God for that. I've had a fairly successful career and have developed expertise that I never thought I would. My faith is a much bigger part of my life and it's brought me a wonderful and supportive community. My family has grown and will likely grow bigger in the coming decade. I have wonderful friends that I didn't know 10 years ago and without whom I couldn't imagine my life. I have a loving and supportive husband who can stare all of my crazy in the eye and not blink. I still have Milo and Xena curled up next to me, purring away contentedly. I still have an amazing core group of women in my life that have stuck with me for more than a decade - some of them coming up on two.

On the whole, I'd say I've done pretty well.

Blocked...

2009-08-13T02:20:00.002-04:00

Holy crap - if you want to give me writer's block, just ask me to write a proposal. I've never been good at these things, and this is no exception. This is why I am unlikely to advance beyond a certain level in my company - and honestly, it's okay for now. I have been trying to write six pages *all day long*. I now have 2 1/2, and that's only because of a 1/2 page graphic. If it's technical writing or creative writing, I can do that in my sleep. But here I am, staring at requirements that I have to translate into exciting, sexy-sounding "the Team will..." action statements. And...nothing.

I get that this is absolutely an essential part of business. I really do - and I respect that. All I'm saying is that I am much better positioned to be the person who will do good work that will get you more work, instead of the person who has a BRILLIANT way with persuasive language.

Ah well...a necessary evil, I suppose. I will sleep well tomorrow night, that's for sure.

Irony

2009-08-06T10:39:00.001-04:00

So there I was the other day, singing along (loudly) to a fun, pop-y 80s chick tune as I drove home. Then it occurred to me, I was driving my beloved 1997 Hyundai Elantra (which, once again, does not have functioning air conditioning) and singing along to "Material Girl".

Oh, hardly...

Retirement

2009-07-26T20:18:00.004-04:00

I think it's been a long time coming, but after four active years, and a couple of less active years due to long-term international travel and other things, I've retired as a hospital advocate for the DC Rape Crisis Center. I think I de facto retired a while ago, becoming less and less active, realizing the extent to which my habit of overextending myself had taken a toll, but officially doing it...that was really hard. I can't fully describe how it makes me feel, but a significant era of my life is over. Not that I can't go back, but walking away from something that's had such a profound effect on my life is...hard. I know it's time, I know it's been time, but letting go feels awful - like I'm abandoning something.

Since March 2003, I've spent countless hours at the hospital in the middle of the night, I've seen some of the most horrible things that people can do to each other, and I've seen people in the most raw and vulnerable state imaginable. I've held the hands of women experiencing every meaning of the word "pain". I've seen strength beyond measure. I've seen the profound impact that treating someone with compassion and basic human dignity can have.

I don't think I'll ever forget what I've seen as an advocate - I know my experiences will always be with me. And I'm grateful every day that there are many, many women who continue to sacrifice their time and energy to be a light for someone else in the darkest time imaginable.

They Shoot Delinquent Bloggers, Don't They?

2009-06-15T15:05:00.003-04:00

I know. It's been a while. That's the understatement of the century. To the point where I doubt anyone even checks in here anymore (can't say I blame you - it hasn't exactly been riveting around here). But that's okay - I wrote primarily as an outlet to get what's inside my head outside of my head, anyway.

K and I had a nice weekend, filled with parties for friends and time with family – it was good, and definitely what was needed. (Although I do feel bad that we both seem to ALWAYS fall asleep at my parents’ house.) I feel like we’ve been running around non-stop lately, and it’s not good for either of us, in many respects. I don’t anticipate that it will ever really go away, but I know there has to be a better way to manage it.

We’ve got a garden going again this year, and we just bought materials yesterday to build an enclosure that will, hopefully, keep out whatever has been eating all of our produce in the past. (Little bastards.) One (kind of) funny reminder of the fate of 99% of our strawberries last year are the little strawberry plants that we’re seeing in random places around the yard. So clearly whatever ate all of them stayed around long enough to crap out the seeds and sprout new plants. How considerate! At least it’s organic, right?

Work has been good for me lately – really, really busy, but good. I got a performance award in March and a promotion in April – probably the first one I’ve ever gotten. I mostly got it because I was doing the work required of the position already, and my boss had told me that he would want to promote me anyway. It is nice to feel actually appreciated for all the work I do – I am acutely aware that not everyone gets to feel that way, regardless of how hard they may be working. (Which was absolutely the case with my previous employer.) So I continue to be really happy where I am, and really happy with my decision. I don’t think my current ambitions extend much further up the corporate ladder for now, and I’m comfortable with that. I’m good at what I do. Some day, after K and I have had kids and after they’re older, perhaps – but for now I don’t think I’m willing to make the tradeoffs required. I work hard, but in the grand scheme, I’m not that important. That’s fine. Although I do still find it kind of funny that I’m considered a “subject matter expert”. I mean – it’s true, I know my stuff. So much so that my clients want me to come work for them, which is very flattering. But I guess sometimes I still feel like the 23-year old department assistant at the conservation organization I used to work for, who had to push to do anything that would contribute to my professional growth. Then I look in the mirror, and it’s quite clear that I’m the 33-year old consultant who has worked really hard for the last 10 years. That’s always a surreal experience.

I’m going to be able to transfer to my firm’s Rockville office, and K and will likely move out to that part of the county in the next few years. Having a new car and watching the mileage leap ever higher week after week has made us acutely aware that we spend WAY to much time driving around the Beltway. So, since our church and many, but not all, of our friends are out that way, it just makes sense. Even in our current location, Rockville will be a better commute for me. I’m disturbed sometimes at how suburban my life is becoming, and I’m having a hard time with that. So now I’m just trying to figure out a way for it to make sense for me – whatever that is. I feel like a hypocrite – someone who is indulging in an unsustainable lifestyle for the sake of convenience and becoming more and more a part of the problems I see.

I am very happy to say that my physical therapy worked quite well, and I’m back to running again. Nothing tremendously impressive yet, but I’m almost up to 2 miles, and my back is feeling good. I had been sitting at 1 mile, give or take, for a little while and not budging – or rather, not pushing myself. Telling myself that I couldn’t. So one day, I decided that I was going to do 1.5. And I even put it on Facebook, so you know I really meant it. (Mostly, I just wanted the accountability.) So I did. I thought I was going to die, but I did it – I pushed through the feeling that my lungs were collapsing as someone was stabbing me in the side, and I did it. It wasn’t pretty, but I felt quite a sense of accomplishment. Now, I have friends for whom that’s just their warm-up, so I realize that this isn’t an accomplishment that’s going to change the face of the running world. But I was happy for me.

I kept at 1.5 long enough to feel like I wasn’t going to die, and then started to build from there, some weeks adding on more than others. I’m up to 1.9, and will be very happy to go sailing past 2 in the next week or so. It’s still really, really hard for me. But since I’ve realized that it’s the only time my Inner Critic is nice to me, I keep up with it. It really gives me a sense of satisfaction that few other things do. Two days a week for now, out of deference to my back (which has been holding up really well!) and my knee (which is not holding up as well – so more PT for me). I’m working my way up to a 3 – 4 mile maintenance run, 3 – 4 days per week. It could be a while still, but I figure that if I can do what I’m doing and still be feeling good, then I can do that, too. Why not?

In my continuing quest for balance, I’m trying to narrow down the “extracurricular activities” in which I participate. So that has meant actually resigning from a couple areas in church where I’ve been serving for a long time, but where I’m not feeling like I need to be. I’m there because I can do it well, not because it’s something I love. It was a really hard decision, wracked with guilt because I’m a people-pleaser and easily overextend myself. I’m also trying to say no to things that I think will end up being one more thing on my plate that I won’t feel good about. I know that some people are really disappointed in me for this – think that I could be a leader and I’m just not doing it. This is also really hard for me – the feeling of guilt really sucks, feeling as though I’m letting people down. It’s an awful feeling, and it’s very easy for people to pile on the pressure. But the fact is that I’ve spent a lot of time saying “yes” to things that I didn’t really have time for, and I’m realizing just how burned out I am. I’m having a hard time mustering the energy to care about much of anything, and that bothers me because that’s not me. I was feeling like all the things I was doing, I was doing half-assed. And that’s not me, either. So, on the advice of a wise friend, I am taking the summer off from serving on Sunday mornings entirely, and will keep up with my two weekly areas of ministry, youth group and our small group. Once the fall rolls around, I’ll be doing youth services on the Sundays that Special K plays.

This past Sunday was the first day that K was playing and I wasn’t doing anything. So I dropped him off at church, and went to the gym for a nice, long morning swim. I love swimming, and it’s probably been at least 7 or 8 months since I last went. It was hard, because I haven’t gone for so long, but I was patient, got my breathing right again, and made it for a full mile – after thinking I would have to stop at less than a tenth. It was a slow mile, but it was a mile. I felt wonderful. I cleaned up, bought some t-shirts at Target on my way back (because I realized that I’d managed to get rid of almost all of mine in the last year or so, except for workout shirts – no idea how or why, but as the warm weather approaches, I’ve become acutely aware of their absence), and I went to church. And for the first time in a long time, I was able to really experience and enjoy church. It was awesome. I believe that serving and contributing is really important, and I think that most people opting to only show up at church and then go home – as if everything that needs to happen just happens by magic - is why those people who do volunteer get burned out so frequently. I do believe that this hurts our church, as it would hurt any community where more people take than give, so I’m happy to serve. But it was also really, really nice to feel like there was a little more balance to the equation for me. (And of course I helped to tear down and pack up after services.)

So, as much as this summer is already packed for us, I’m feeling happy that I’m making some progress. My brother and his family are coming to visit in a week, and I’m ridiculously excited about it – it’s been a year since we’ve seen them, and I really, really miss them all. I’m sure that I’ll just fall over with shock at how big the kids have gotten. We’re also going to be able to see some old friends that we’ve been trying to schedule a visit with for…well, forever. And as it turns out, after months of “well, that weekend doesn’t work for us, how about 6 months from now?”, J and I will see each other three times this summer – June, July, and August, which I’m really, really happy about. I’m also getting to go visit A in Portland (with J), and M and J are coming to visit from their respective homes in August. Lots and lots of things to celebrate. Life looks pretty different from how it was a year ago – and who knows what it will look like this time next year. I have a lot to be grateful for.

I don’t always know how I ended up where I am, but I know it’s part of a process and a picture bigger than I can see – I just hope I’m following the right signs, because I feel a little lost sometimes.

Buried...

2009-03-15T00:39:00.003-04:00

In work. Fortunately, they're hiring another person, but right now I feel like I can't keep up with anything and I'm getting sloppy. This is not good - particularly as my performance review is right around the corner. Urgh. I barely have time to think, let alone write (which is therapeutic for me), exercise (ditto), and spend real quiet time with Special K. It doesn't count if we both happen to be quiet because I'm hooked up to my laptop and incapable of conversing for more than two minutes at a time.

I'm not sure what the difference is - I've been busy before, but maybe I feel more invested now? Maybe I feel as though there's more at stake because I'm still new and have things to prove? I don't know. But my anxiety level is really, really high.

So, to redirect for a second (before I get back to work), here are a few things I'm grateful for:
1 - my second anniversary with Special K is on Monday. Time flies! But it's been good and I couldn't ask for anyone better to go through life with - he sees the crazy in me and hasn't run away yet. Score one for Mandy.
2 -I've been able to see so much of our friends and family lately.
3 - my two kitties who are curled up on the couch next to me, sleeping peacefully as if they just know how incredibly cute they are
4 - I have a job and it's with a good, stable, risk-averse company that I like
5 - Special K and I got a good-sized tax refund this year that will help us meet some goals, and get closer to some others
6 - my latest mammogram eventually came back clear and I got a clean bill of health
7 - I got new running shoes and am working toward getting back on the road
8 - my small group from church is going through a great phase and really feels like it's flourishing
9 - grace
10 - a last-minute work trip to Hawaii at the end of this month - the change of pace will be much appreciated even though I'll only be there for a blink

So there you have it. I'm trying to be aware that there's more to life than work, because I know that's true. I'm also trying out a crazy new thing called boundaries and limits, which will mean cutting back on some things. I fully expect massive guilt to ensue. But I know it will be good.

So Sad

2009-02-25T22:06:00.003-05:00

Our dear friends D and K had to say goodbye to their sweet dog Mac this week. He was such a loving, affectionate dog and I'll always remember his penchant for spooning with me whenever we stayed over. I am firmly of the mind that pets are part of the family, and I know I'll be devastated when I have to say goodbye to Milo and Xena (which is why I've instructed them that I expect them to live another 40 years). So I know they're heartbroken, as am I.

All this to say that we'll miss you, Mac.

2009-01-28T13:02:00.004-05:00

Work has been…intense lately. To which my husband and any of the friends with whom I’ve had to either decline or cancel plans can attest. Bleah. But at least I’m not concerned about running out of things to do, right? However, the past two days, and my ability to work from home in general, are something that I consider myself fortunate to have. Because I’m getting just as much work done sitting here in my jammies with the cats curled up next to me (it’s freezing, so we’re pooling our body heat), but I feel so much more…relaxed. It’s a delightful feeling. And if Xena weren’t curled up on my legs, I’d probably get up to make myself a nice mug of tea. Later, perhaps.

I’ve been all kinds of introspective lately, which is likely a good thing, in the end. And it’s not just because I did that Facebook “25 Things About Me” note. I jokingly referred to all of this as my mini-existential crisis, but it’s not that far from the truth. I go through periods where I re-evaluate things in my life, where I question whether or not it’s heading in a direction I’m okay with – all of that. So me being me, in all of my Type A, ESFJ-ness, I made a list. I thought about what was really bugging me and wrote it down. I came up with six general things. I then sat down and wrote down what I thought I could do about them. Seriously. And just writing things down and having something in black and white actually made me feel better – because now it’s not this mysterious malaise that I just can’t figure out, it’s an identifiable problem, with identifiable things I can try to work on it.

It’s totally unsurprising to me that I was a science major. I appear to live my life by the scientific method.

Speaking of science, the good folks at Grist made me laugh like an idiot today. And for that, I thank them. They have decided to establish “a regular feature in which Grist's editorial team celebrates -- and carps about! -- notable climate-related steps taken by businesses, politicians, and individuals.” The award for doing good things?

The Green Thumb.

The “award” for doing bad things?

The Angry Polar Bear.

Love them. Absolutely love them. Almost as much as I love hearing the name “President Obama”.

Reflections, Bastard People, and the Year to Come…

2009-01-02T14:12:00.011-05:00

It’s that time of year again – the time where you look back on the year that has passed, look forward to the one ahead, and think about where you’d like to land at the end of it.

Special K and I have had a good year – a busy year, but a good year. We’ve been lucky enough to spend lots of time with family and friends, to leave the metro area a few times (okay – I left more than a few times, but work travel doesn’t really count, especially since the trips were of such short duration), and have enjoyed every minute of it. We really are so incredibly lucky, both as individuals and as a couple, to be surrounded by the people in our lives.
I’m starting 2009 with both a different name and a different job than the ones with which I started 2008 – that’s a mind-boggling change right there. Work has become very, very busy for me, which is good in that they must like my work, and trust my judgment and abilities, but it’s bad in that all the things that you think would come along with 60+ hour weeks are coming along when I have those weeks. It’s got more to do with the particular project on which I’m working than anything else, and my efforts aren’t going unnoticed (unlike at my last place of employment), but the toll on my health and relationships is much the same. I feel exhausted most of the time, and my inability to stay awake on the occasions where I get to actually sit still has become a running joke.

I’m hoping that it will slow down, because it has forced me to cancel plans on occasion, working through the occasional weekend, and I often resent the heck out of it. I’m also less efficient since I’m tired, so that’s not helping things, either. C’est la vie, I suppose. I have a feeling it will pay off in one respect, but I still need to work harder on a better balance. As always, it seems.

Our main goals for 2009 are health-related and financially-related. We both want to be healthier, which means dropping some weight. Which means better eating and more exercising. It also likely means less eating out (which will actually coincide well with our second major goal). We both know what we need to do, and have both been healthier than we are now in life, so it’s not that we’re flying blind. It’s that our priorities and our reality don’t always line up. But my back does feel better, and I know I need to budget for new running shoes soon. Things are moving in a positive direction.

We’re still dealing with debt, although we’ve gotten over one major hurdle so far after a lot of hard work and persistence, and will continue to pay it off as fast as we can. In light of this, we’re making hard choices, like possibly giving up things we want to do because our list of things we have to do is longer and takes precedence. We’re saving up for a down payment on a new car since both of ours are living on borrowed time, and we’re already facing a summer sans air conditioning in either car. Doesn’t seem like a big deal when it’s 30 degrees outside, but it will start to suck as the temperatures head higher. But at the same time, as a wise friend put it, saying “we’re going to go through a phase where things suck now so that they will be good in 5 years” will drive you crazy long before you reach that fifth year. So this, too, is about balance. Always balance.

But here’s a funny. We just managed to pay off our worst credit card, a Chase Mastercard, this past month. It was a long, long road. Right before Special K and I got married, he got nailed with a big tax bill. Big. As in “oh, holy crap, how on earth are we going to pay this?” big. So, I used a low-APR balance transfer check to transfer the balance to my Chase card, which had an existing balance at the time. Now, a common condition of these arrangements is that all of your monthly payments go to the transferred balance until it is paid in full. Okay.

They then jacked up the APR on my existing balance to 29.99%. So it got to just sit there and accrue this obscene level of interest, while we tried to pay off the transferred balance.

I called and complained. They refused to lower the APR, said that my APR has been increased, essentially, because I used my card. They did say, however, that if I was a really good girl, and made all my payments on time for a year, they would lower it by one point. I had never missed a payment in 9 years. I had never even been late with a payment in 9 years.

They are bastard people.

So we worked really hard, used all available “extra” money toward debt (hello, stimulus check…goodbye stimulus check…hello, insurance settlement…goodbye insurance settlement), and managed to get that stupid balance transfer paid off.

In one year, the existing balance had accrued more than $3,000 in interest.

I got a letter from Chase saying that they noticed I’d made large payments to my card, and they hoped they weren’t losing me as a customer. They included some balance transfer checks for my convenience. I laughed. A lot.

We continued to put every “extra” cent toward it, and the card is now paid off. When I called them to change my name (although I don’t use the card, have no plans to use the card, I still thought I should update my information with them), the nice lady from customer service noted, with great concern, that I had accrued a lot of finance charges over the last year. She then began to tell me about a service they offer, for a modest fee, that would allow me to waive my minimums in the event of a job loss, health emergency, etc. She was just so earnest.

So I cut her off as politely as possible, since my blood had started to boil. I crisply informed her that I had actually done a balance transfer in March, 2007, and that they had raised my APR to 30% since I'd had the unmitigated gall to use my card, and refused to lower it. I hadn’t lost my job, I hadn’t had a health emergency, and had, actually, in no way been irresponsible or casual about my payment obligations. So while I appreciated her time, I found it highly entertaining that they were now trying to sell me a product to help me fix a problem that they had created for me.

She transferred me to someone to talk about lowering my APR. Who lowered it to 17.99%. Oh, they have a good sense of humor over there.

So we are continuing to work at our goals, with that major hurdle out of the way I believe that things will move faster, but it will still necessitate some un-fun choices because while we’re closer to our goal, we’re not there yet. This is hard and it’s taking a long time, but we’re grownups and we have to act like it – which means that we have to work for what we want.

I don’t know what’s ahead, but it’s probably more fun that way. The last few years have certainly brought surprises that I couldn’t have foreseen. Special K and I have been talking more about what we want our future to look like, and not just in those “someday” terms, which is interesting and a little scary. But they say that if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. We’ll see.

Happy New Year to all!

The Night Shift

2008-12-15T02:00:00.002-05:00

For all two of you still reading, you may have noticed that my writing has dropped off significantly in the last month. This is because of work. Work has been, to use the technical term, completely making me its bitch. These days it's typical for me to get closer to 4 hours of sleep (if that) than 8, most of which come in the form of naps I take on the couch to give myself enough energy to keep going. I know I've hit diminishing returns, but I can't really stop because the project that is responsible for all of this nocturnal (and diurnal) quality time with my laptop just has some extremely aggressive deadlines. Mercifully, that means that it should be of relatively short duration, since there is no wiggle room on our end date. Once I get through the end of January, the major pieces will be done and I can coast a little.

The only really good thing that I can see at present is that it gives me lots of quality time with the kitties, who are currently both curled up against me, rumbling contentedly. But much as his snoring can keep me up, I'd much rather be curled up against Special K, with whom I've been cranky and irritable because I'm totally freaking exhausted and feeling tons of pressure.

Really, I don't know what I like most about this. Falling asleep on my drive to work, stress eating, the persistent pain in my back and hips, or that strung-out feeling that comes with prolonged sleep deprivation. As I've told him before, Special K had better buckle up when we have kids, because I see all of those things coming into play at that time, too.

So there you have it. Since I'm so tired that it's difficult to concentrate, yet I have to get some things done for tomorrow, this is what happens when I need my brain to refresh. I write crap in the middle of the night. Enjoy.

Lemon Bars

2008-12-08T15:26:00.003-05:00

Driving to a party the other day, I was partaking of a delicious lemon bar, because it's that time of year and the baked goods are plentiful. And tasty.

Special K looked over at me and started laughing because, as he pointed out, I had managed to get powdered sugar all down the front of my black jacket and onto my lap.

"Honey, you're going to have to clean yourself up - it looks like you just got into a fight with the Pilsbury Dough Boy"

In response, I delicately extended my middle finger in a loving gesture of disagreement with his assessment. This only made him laugh harder as he managed to get out the words:

"No, no. It's okay, it looks like you totally kicked his ass."

Humbling

2008-10-20T10:59:00.001-04:00

I think a little dose of humility every now and then is healthy – an experience we don’t always get, and which isn’t always super fun, but nonetheless, one that is healthy. So, as I was beginning PT, my guy said “please don’t take this as being harsh or critical, but you have absolutely no core strength, so once we build that up, you should be feeling a lot better.”

Now, I have never claimed to be an example of athletic prowess or anything. You would hardly look at me and think “elite level” of anything. So I wasn’t insulted, it was more of an “okay – note to self” thing. But I also have to admit to thinking “but hey…I do crunches and stuff…” and being a little surprised. Clearly, not nearly enough of them, so the flat part of my stomach must truly be luck and genetics, as opposed to the result of any kind of effort on my part. But given that genetics is largely responsible for my crappy back and knees, I think that the least it can do is give me a flat(ish) stomach.

(In fact, in case you’re listening, genetics, could you throw in better muscle tone, too? Given the suckfest of the last few years, I think you owe me.)

I now have a huge stability ball taking up far too much space in my living room and I’ve been doing my stretching and strengthening exercises. I’ve been ramping up my exercises in PT and getting a lot stronger and feeling better. So, I’m approaching the end of my time in PT, and I do feel like it’s helped a lot – but the real trick is for me to keep doing all the things they’ve been having me do after I stop going there. I don’t think anything that I’ve been given to do is too difficult or complicated for me to do on my own, I just need to do it.

Which means I’ll need to write it all down because it’s a lot of stuff to remember – my appointments are a lot longer now than they were when I first started.

So that’s been good and encouraging. I’m not sure that I’m as confident as my PT guy that I can be a runner again, but I’ll give it some time, work on getting stronger, and see what happens. I’m trying to think of what kind of reasonable goal I can set for myself as a next step. (I thrive on direction – if I have neither direction nor accountability, I flounder.)

I feel my life changing again, and I’m not sure what it is. I’m really happy with my job right now – I feel like I’m being challenged, I work for a good company with great benefits that has a conscience, which is another great benefit, and I feel like Special K and I are in a healthy place. I think the first year of our marriage was filled with so much chaos, we were just trying to survive most of it. Fortunately the dust has settled a lot; we’re able to see life as it is, including things that we need to work on together to have a stronger marriage, and we both agree that it’s worth working on. I guess life just feels real now. Manageable. I’m sure we’ll go through phases again where I feel like my life is something that I’m watching on a bad TV show – I’m sure of it, because that’s real life, too. But for now, I’m embracing the real.

What She Said...

2008-10-14T14:21:00.002-04:00

This gets at the root of something that's been bugging the crap out of me for more than a year now. I've gotten offensive e-mails about this very subject, and it is nothing more than blind bigotry. So, as Stef said, thank you Campbell Brown.

Commentary: So what if Obama were a Muslim or an Arab?

NEW YORK (CNN) -- You may find it hard to believe that this remains an issue in this campaign, but it does.

The candidates, both candidates, are still getting questions about Barack Obama's ethnicity and religion. If you are even semi-informed, then by now you already know that of course, Barack Obama is an American.

Of course, Barack Obama is a Christian. Yet just a few days ago, there was a woman at a rally for John McCain incorrectly calling Obama an Arab:

Woman at rally: I don't trust Obama. I have read about him and he's an Arab.

Sen. John McCain: No ma'am, no ma'am. He's a decent family man, citizen that I just happen to have disagreements with on fundamental issues. That's what this campaign is all about. He's not, thank you.

Now, I commend Sen. McCain for correcting that woman, for setting the record straight. But I do have one question -- so what if he was?

So what if Obama was Arab or Muslim? So what if John McCain was Arab or Muslim? Would it matter?

When did that become a disqualifier for higher office in our country? When did Arab and Muslim become dirty words? The equivalent of dishonorable or radical?

Whenever this gets raised, the implication is that there is something wrong with being an Arab-American or a Muslim. And the media is complicit here, too.

We've all been too quick to accept the idea that calling someone Muslim is a slur.

I feel like I am stating the obvious here, but apparently it needs to be said: There is a difference between radical Muslims who support jihad against America and Muslims who want to practice their religion freely and have normal lives like anyone else.

There are more than 1.2 million Arab-Americans and about 7 million Muslim-Americans, former Cabinet secretaries, members of Congress, successful business people, normal average Americans from all walks of life.

These are the people being maligned here, and we can only imagine how this conversation plays in the Muslim world. We can't tolerate this ignorance -- not in the media, not on the campaign trail.
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Of course, he's not an Arab. Of course, he's not a Muslim. But honestly, it shouldn't matter.

One Down, Fifteen to Go

2008-09-29T14:16:00.002-04:00

I had my first physical therapy session Friday night, and have another one tonight. For the time being, I’ve been given stretching exercises to do to help loosen up things that haven’t healed as well as they might. The guy I’m seeing said that I have a classic case of post-laminectomy syndrome (laminectomy is one of the things I had done when I had back surgery), but that they could help me a lot, it would just take some hard work. Not a problem, I just need a plan of action. I looked it up when I got home and “post-laminectomy syndrome” is another one of those catch-all terms that’s used to describe people who have persistent/recurring pain after certain kinds of back surgery. It’s also called “failed back syndrome”.

I saw that, and I have to admit, my inner nerd got all kinds of pissed off. I thought to myself “I don’t fail things. Screw that. I’m fixing it.”

So that’s my plan of action – whether or not I have to drag my body kicking and screaming back to full health and mobility, that’s where it’s going. Granted, sometimes my body has a way of being spectacularly uncooperative (as evidenced by…well, by any number of things), but I’ve managed to get over that in the past – I have chondromalacia and patellofemoral pain syndrome (fancy words that mean “crap knees”) and I barely notice it in regular life, except for when regular life requires sitting for long periods of them, then I’m a little stiff-legged until I can shake it off. It hurts, and there are things I avoid doing (but I never cared much for step aerobics anyway), so I don’t feel like it has significantly slowed me down.

So, you see, this is where my obstinacy pays off. This is not to say that I will never again wallow – I’m quite sure that I will, at least once in a while. But this is a good start for me. Plus, my PT guy seems to be fairly confident that they can help me.

Work continues to be good, if busy. (Although, I say that like it’s a bad thing – it’s really not. I like to be busy at work, it beats the heck out of being bored.) I think we have some fun things coming up for the fall, and we already had the very fun, and very wonderful wedding Brunette a few weeks ago. Time is truly flying by, it’s crazy how fast it goes.

(Sadly, my camera decided to crap out on me, so we have no actual photos of our own, but many others captured the event.)

And with that…I’ll be off.

And Now I Know

2008-09-26T09:14:00.002-04:00

So, I was looking at my physical therapy prescription yesterday, and saw under diagnosis "DDD - l-spine", and I thought, "hey - I wonder what that is?" Because it would be kind of inappropriate for my doctor to make a guess about my bra size, after all.

And then I realized that it stands for degenerative disc disease. Which is something that happens normally as your body ages, I'm just...well, I think I'm just an overachiever, because I'm far too young for this to be happening - by about 20+ years. (Not that it doesn't happen to people my age, it just doesn't normally happen to people my age.) So I'm processing what this means, what it's going to mean in the future, and all that. Honestly, it doesn't change anything, it just gives it a crappy name. I do worry about what a far-off pregnancy will do to my body, since my spine is already older and weaker than I am. I do worry about whether or not my physical abilities will continue to decline as I get older. But I know that worrying isn't going to do anything, so I need to figure out what's going to make it better. Perhaps it just makes the case for budgeting for Pilates classes or anything that will help strengthen my core. Perhaps it continues to make the case for losing those last 20 pounds that seem to be holding onto my ass for dear life. (Already working on that last part.)

So that's life. Or at least, that's my life. I'll be fine, I just need to let myself think about how it sucks for a little while, and then I'll move on. I respond well to a plan of action, so hopefully PT will give me that.

Not Fair

2008-09-24T00:47:00.002-04:00

So, I had a doctor's appointment today. With my orthopedist. Because I'm doing everything that I think I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm still getting back pain - pain which has, by the way, been getting worse.

Yes, I probably lift things that are heavier than I should lift on occasion, but I rarely wear high heels, I've taken to wearing sensible shoes to work and keeping more work-appropriate shoes at my desk, I don't run anymore, I walk, swim, weight train, and do isometric exercises for my back, I have a little freaking orthopedic seat cushion that I keep to make my incredibly uncomfortable desk chair a little more tolerable. I try to take care of myself, and my body keeps telling me to piss off.

So I need to make an appointment with a physical therapist and talk to my doctor again in a month. And I need to try not to get too bitter and overwhelmed and scared that I'll be right back where I was in December 2006, but I'm feeling some familiar pain, and you know what? Right now, it feels like it's not f*cking fair. There are so many people in the world who are perfectly capable of being as active as they want to be, and they do nothing. I want to run and I can't. I want to do a triathlon one day and I can't. I want to go through a full day without pain, and lately, I can't. So there's my pity party. Please help yourself to some hors d'oeuvres.

I know that I don't know anything for certain just yet, so it's far too early to be playing Chicken Little. I am self-aware enough to know that, even if I have re-injured myself, this will not be a tragedy. I will still have the use of my limbs and still, in the grand scheme of life, be a very lucky person for being in generally good health, having access to good medical care, and having a support network of people who love me and can help me if I can ever possibly learn to be good at asking for help. I know this - I really, really know this. So I hope you'll forgive my moments of weakness and self-indulgence when I say that the thought of going through this again just makes me want to cry.

Food for Thought

2008-09-18T09:46:00.002-04:00

I don't usually post e-mail forwards and such, but since I'm completely baffled as to why this is even a close contest, I offer the following snippet:

With America facing historic debt, 2 wars, stumbling health care, a weakened dollar, all-time high prison population, mortgage crises, bank foreclosures, etc.

Educational Background:

Obama:
Columbia University - B.A. Political Science with a specialization in International Relations.
Harvard - Juris Doctor (J.D.) Magna Cum Laude

& Biden:
University of Delaware - B.A. in history and B.A. in political science.
Syracuse University College of Law - Juris Doctor (J.D.)

vs.

McCain:
United States Naval Academy - Class rank 894 of 899 (legacy appointment)

& Palin:
Hawaii Pacific University - 1 semester
North Idaho College - 2 semesters - general study
University of Idaho - 2 semesters - journalism
Matanuska-Susitna College - 1 semester
University of Idaho - 3 semesters - B.A. in journalism

Now, which team are you going to hire ?

It Makes Me Sad..

2008-09-17T14:04:00.002-04:00

...to have good reason, yet again, to say that I'm so glad I'm not in Yemen anymore.

It really is a beautiful and interesting country. Not that my experiences there were all that great, but I can honestly say that I'm glad I was there and went through it all, as it doesn't seem likely that I'll be going back any time soon. Truly a unique opportunity, and truly a very troubled country.

Reflecting

2008-09-10T10:59:00.001-04:00

Work is good these days (although I have my six-month review coming up, so we’ll see if they think I’m good), but busy. Not insane-like-my-old-job busy, but certainly busy. Although it’s nice to know that if I work a 12 or 14-hour day, I can actually record it. My pay doesn’t change because I’m a salaried employee (which is fine, I’m quite content with my compensation), but at least I can acknowledge it if I’m busting my tail. I like what I’m doing – it’s interesting and I’m pretty good at it. That’s a nice feeling. In a world of morons brainlessly chanting “drill, baby, drill!” with no appreciation of the consequences and underwhelming “benefits” of such a disastrous policy, it’s of some comfort to know that I can still do work that has some beneficial impact to the environment, and educate others about it. It’s always been my biggest issue, and something that has motivated both my education and my entire professional life, although I get teased about it from time to time.

I guess I really don’t understand why “environmentalist”, and “feminist” for that matter, are pejorative terms in the eyes of so many, especially since I consider myself to be both. Why is it bad to want to protect our natural resources and God’s creation from short-sighted greed and exploitation? Why is it bad to think that women should be paid equally and treated equally? Why is basic human dignity threatening? I think Anna Quindlen said it best, but I’d be more entertained by the far right’s sudden interest in feminism and sexism if it weren’t for the fact that so many people are now buying the act.

But then again I also don’t understand the desire for so many people to want someone to whom they can relate to be President. I want someone smarter than me making those kinds of decisions, and I think I’m a fairly smart person. I don’t care whether or not I’d want to have someone over for a cookout at my house, but I do want our President to be intelligent, thoughtful, and a good leader who is curious about the world. Why is that not of primary importance?

Feel free to call me a tree-hugging, bleeding heart liberal if you'd like. I'm not ashamed of the label.

Home

2008-09-04T22:00:00.009-04:00

Well, I’m finally home and cognizant of the correct time and day! The project went really well, I think I managed to impress a couple people, and there was rumored a possibility of doing this again next year. It’s funny, because while my vacation tastes tend to run more toward the “hey, let’s go see and do cool stuff in places we haven’t been to before!” kind of thing, after a few days in a beautiful tropical environment where you can just sit by a pool, with or without an umbrella drink, and let all your worries evaporate from your mind in the hot sun, I have to admit there’s something to be said for the “we’re going away to relax and do nothing” vacation as well. I don’t think I could spend more than a few days doing it without getting bored senseless, but I can definitely see its merits. Fortunately, work kept me quite busy most of the time, so I didn’t have the opportunity to get bored.

Sunday evening, I was sitting out on the terrace, having just ordered my dinner. I was reading my book and seriously nodding off, as the traveling was taking a toll. I was jolted back to consciousness by an explosion of sound coming from my right, where there was a small stage and some sort of allegedly traditional but stereotypical-looking Polynesian dance routine, complete with hula girls and flaming torches. As the sound dissolved out into the night air, I willed my sandwich to arrive faster, so that I could escape to the relative quiet of my room. I woke up once around 1 am, but made it back to sleep without too much lost time. Monday was all about meetings in the morning, and chilling out a little more in the afternoon. I took a swim in the pool and laid out in the sun a bit. I got in a good workout, and then had another fairly early night.

We arrived about 15 minutes later than we’d wanted to on Tuesday morning, but still well before any class participants. We knew we’d need to set up the room ourselves, so we set about doing that, and trying to find the right person to help us with a few logistical matters. People started to file in, warily looking at us, clearly hoping that we wouldn’t torture them with boredom over the next two days. All I can say on that front is that we certainly tried not to. The first day started off a little slowly, with people resisting my efforts to participate, but by the end of the day, we had introduced an activity that had everyone participating, which was good. We were given the presentation materials and they were okay…not what my co-presenter M or I would have done, and not completely tailored to the audience, but we made it work.

That night, for whatever reason, I woke up at about 1:30 in the morning and either elected not to go back to sleep, or I just couldn’t. I had some changes I wanted to make to our presentation, but I had crashed early that night, so my mind was racing with the things that I knew I needed to accomplish. I made a couple of phone calls (before I realized that Verizon may very well turn up an astronomical phone bill as a result. One person told me that they were charged international rates for calls made to and from Guam. They had to fight to prove that Guam is, indeed, part of the United States, since it’s a US territory. There are even US post offices there. It counts. I’m prepared for a long conversation if our bill is horrifying.), then officially got up and pulled out my laptop. The second day was better, people were looser and more comfortable by that point, so they talked and asked questions more. We burned through the material quickly and were able to wrap up by lunch time, finishing with a group exercise that got everybody going and really pulled everything together. Overall, M and I felt as though the trip was a success, and he was very complimentary of my contributions, which I appreciated.

After we wrapped up, a former co-worker of M’s who is now on Guam offered to give us a brief tour of their part of the island, and I’m so glad we took him up on it. It’s a teeny little tropical island, but there’s plenty of breathtaking scenery to be had, particularly around Tarague Beach, on the northern end. We were driving down a gently descending road, lined with lush vegetation, when we came around a corner, and the road dropped away sharply. The view out across the beach, which is surrounded by a former palm tree plantation (still noticeable by the too-perfect rows of trees grown for coconuts, which aren’t indigenous to the island), is beautiful and enormous. Once we got down to the actual beach, the sparkling white sand contrasted with the pale aqua of the water along the shoreline. About 50 feet out from the shore, the water turned a very dark blue – we were told that it signified a 60-foot drop off in the reef, where all too many people had gotten sucked under the tide. So…beautiful, but I’m not likely to venture out too far without a tow line.

I decided to go for one last swim before I left, since my flight departed at 4 am on Thursday. I wanted to get out into the bay, but was told that the coral along the bottom was very sharp, and my footwear was inadequate. Well – next time, I suppose. Since I never did get to take that kayak out.

After a relaxing afternoon in and by the pool (keep in mind that I still managed to retain my ghostly pallor), I headed back to my room to pack and attempt a nap before leaving for the airport around 1 am. I ordered dinner, which was okay – nothing to really write home about, but not awful, either. I took a nap, and woke up late…whoops. Fortunately, I still had two hours to get to the airport and the Guam airport is not large. At all. I made it there with 90 minutes to spare before my flight departed, so I was able to check in without raising my blood pressure. They upgraded my seat from Guam to Osaka to a first class seat (which would have been even better on my flight from Osaka to San Francisco, but I will happily take what I can get!), and after I spent a little time perusing the duty free shops (which are, apparently, open at 3 am in the Guam airport), I settled into my seat to wait for boarding.

The flight to Osaka was a little bumpy, but nothing unpleasant – I slept through most if it, as I imagine the rest of my fellow travelers did. We arrived in Osaka, and I was glad that I hadn’t attempted to put on any makeup, like I did on my way there. I had arrived in Osaka the first time looking as though I was in the middle of the world’s longest Walk of Shame. Not good.

The airport was quite empty and most things were closed as it was still early morning hours. I had been hoping to find out some information about Osaka and the surrounding environs so that I could leave the airport during my ten hour layover. That was not meant to be, so I found some WiFi, sat down near an outlet, and did some e-mail and read some articles, etc. At some point I drifted off to sleep for a bit (hardly surprising), and did a good bit of just plain wandering around the airport. I even tried to watch a movie on Netflix with their “Watch It Now!” feature, but apparently it doesn’t work if you’re outside the U.S. Boo… I

I did amuse myself and pass the time by people-watching. I noticed something that I’ve seen in Vietnam and that we saw all the time in Taiwan – people wearing clothing with English writing on it that makes no sense, and is occasionally borderline obscene. (In some cases, way across the border into full-blown obscene.) Now, I see people here with clothing and accessories that are characters from a particular Asian language that I’m sure also make no sense to the native speakers of said language. Including my tattoo – it actually needs one more character to mean what I want it to mean, so my original reference book lied to me. But at least it doesn’t mean “raging whore” or something. It could be worse.

But getting back to my point. I think my favorites were a girl wearing a white t-shirt with “Lost Brother” written on it in a handwriting-style font, a kid wearing a blue shirt with a gold print that said “Golden Eye” and “True Love” on it, and my favorite, a girl who was probably in her early 20s wearing plaid knee shorts, white sneakers, and a blue shirt that said “I Like It Tasty” on the front.

Awesome.

The hour finally arrived for me to shuffle down to my gate. I stopped for a bowl of udon noodles with tofu and green onions (yummy….), and went to my boarding area. The plane took off on time, and all was well.

Until dinner.

You see, I’m occasionally lactose intolerant, and when my body is under stress (such as criss-crossing the international date line a few times in a few days), it comes roaring back to life. And it’s uncomfortable, to say the least. So I’d called the airline, after a dairy-filled meal from my way from San Francisco to Osaka, and asked for a non-dairy meal for my return flights. They said that all they could do was a vegetarian non-dairy meal. I said that would be fine – I was vegetarian for a long while, and I’ve had plenty of delicious vegan food in my life.

This was not that food. This was a cooked tomato in its juice, with five pieces of baby corn and some bland yellow rice with no spice or flavor to speak of. Plus a bread roll with margarine (fine), and some bizarre gelatinous dessert-type thing. Oh my. I was hungry, and it was edible, it just wasn’t…well, it wasn’t what I would have voluntarily fed myself ever.

It was somewhat compensated for by my amusement at a guy in front of me who got up to get his bag out of the overhead compartment, displaying much crack in the process, whose shirt said “SO Wonderful!” across the back.

Indeed.

After many more hours in the plane, during which I watched “Prince Caspian” (very good) and “What Happens in Vegas” (irretrievably stupid, but I must admit to laughing out loud in a couple places) and slept as much as possible, we arrived in San Francisco. I made my way to my connecting flight, through a security line that was way too long, and stopped to get dinner at a burrito place, then sat down to wait for my final flight to board, which happened about 6 minutes after I arrived at the gate. Nick of time, much?

The flight back to DC was delayed because the pilot and first officer were delayed from a previous flight, but we did eventually make it into the air, without any significant delay. Unfortunately when we landed in DC, they couldn’t get the jetway hooked up to the plane. Just…couldn’t. The pilot thanked us for our patience, then chuckled and said “like you have a choice…” After all the power cut out on the plane and we sat through another 10 minutes or so of waiting, during which time the guy next to me looked at his watch and said “oh hey – my flight to Frankfurt is boarding now…”, we finally were allowed to exit the plane.

I was glad that I hadn’t checked any bags, because Special K and I found each other quickly and went out to the car to start the drive home. Until we realized that there was no food in the house, so we made a brief detour to the Silver Diner, where I had a crab cake and he had a crab cake melt, and then went to the house. We stayed up for a little bit, and eventually collapsed into bed around 2 am. This was actually a good idea, because I slept until a little past 9 am without waking up. Or probably even rolling over, since I was so tired.

And then we flew to Cincinnati that day. Seriously. I unpacked and packed simultaneously. We had long-standing plans to go see J and S, and a little thing like a trip to Guam wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. Our weekend went by far too quickly, even though it was a long one, in a blur of good food and good friends and all those things. I’m really happy to see that they’re settling in well in Cincinnati, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss them lots. E is getting so big it’s just crazy, and he’s so freakishly articulate for a kid who is not-quite three. He counts, he reads, he talks in full intelligible sentences, it’s amazing. He will also eat just about anything they put in front of him, which is something Keith and I aspire to. I realize that all kids go through phases, but if we end up with a picky eater in our family…well, that’s going to be one skinny kid because I’m not making separate dinners for everyone. But E scarfed up chili-rubbed tilapia, jicama salad, and pasta with pesto and zucchini with the rest of us, it was great!

Monday rolled around far too soon, and we spent the morning pretending that we didn’t live so far apart anymore. But then we had to get ready to go to the airport and couldn’t get around it any longer. Meah. We headed home, glad to be home, but sad to leave.

And now I’m back at home and back at work and finally done with my expense reports. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, and the cats have given me a couple accusatory looks, as if they suspect that I was trying to abandon them, but I think that overall, they’ve forgiven me. In the coming weeks, Brunette is getting married (eeee!!!!), Special K is going to CA on a business trip, and I’m attempting to do as little as possible. I’ll let you know how it works…

Reflections

2008-08-25T04:31:00.001-04:00

I was sitting by the pool this afternoon, heavily squinting in the sunshine as I read (and finished) my book in between refreshing dips in the pool. Basking away there under the bright, tropical sun, slathered in SPF 50 sweatproof sunblock, I just couldn’t get away from one thought. I really, really miss Special K. I know it sounds cheesy, and I do apologize if any of you throw up in your mouths a little, but you’ll either have to stop reading or bear with me. It’s just that, even when we’re stressed out and I’m being pissy (because, let’s face it, it’s usually me being pissy), I always have more fun with him. I guess that’s what happens when you marry your best friend – you get to be with them all the time, and then when you don’t, it feels like there’s something missing, and then you realize that it’s them. It doesn’t kill you or mean that you cease to function or anything, but it’s just…not what it could be.

And then you wonder how on earth you got to be such a huge cheese ball.

And then you decide to just ride that wave, because you’ve already learned to embrace your inner (and outer) geek, so this should be pretty easy to swallow in comparison.

One Ticket to Paradise

2008-08-25T03:18:00.001-04:00

I arrived in Guam at about 3 am, after what can only be described as the longest afternoon I’ve ever experienced. It started at 6:50 am on Friday at Dulles, when my flight for San Francisco departed. Or, I should say, was supposed to depart. There was one tiny snag – the first officer wasn’t there. Not delayed from another flight or anything, just…not there. They boarded about a third of the plane before they realized that he wasn’t going to be there and then they stopped. They apologized for the delay and said that we’d be delayed until at least 7:40. Just because he wasn’t there.

I dozed off in my seat, and woke up around 7:30 when the rest of the passengers boarded the plane. The first officer still wasn’t there, but I suppose they felt that if they boarded it, he would come. Or something like that. At about 7:45, he sauntered onto the plane, stopped before entering the cockpit, turned and waved hello to the cabin. To all 60-some people who wanted to tell him to go straight to Hell. I didn’t have a very long layover in San Francisco, and I was concerned that I wouldn’t make the connection. Since I couldn’t do anything about it, I just decided to attempt to relax, to read my book, and to nap. Once the plane landed in San Francisco, I got my bags together (grateful that I wasn’t checking anything) and waited for the doors to open. I felt someone pushing past me, and I looked around to see a woman nudging her way to the front, who said “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve got a connection to make.” I looked at her pleasantly and said “oh, so do I.” She said gravely “well, I’ve got to get all the way up to Oregon.” I said “oh, that’s nice. I’m trying to get to Osaka.” She looked at me blankly, and in her best Romper Room voice said, “Oh, and where is Osaka?”, and I smiled at her and said “Japan.” Her eyes widened a little. Fortunately, they opened the doors and the seemingly interminable conversation was over.

Despite our considerable delay due to First Officer LazyAss, I made it to my gate with about 15 or 20 minutes to spare before boarding began, which I used to buy some chick magazines. I had brought three books with me, one of which I’d already finished on the flight to San Francisco, so I thought some supplementary material would be a good idea.

The flight was uneventful, a little turbulence, but nothing that bothered me too much. I got to watch Kung Fu Panda, which was totally delightful, and see Iron Man again, which still kicks ass and must be made part of our permanent collection once available. I also started on my next book, Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott. It’s a fantastic memoir, primarily reflections on her faith and her journey. It’s that kind of “I laughed, I cried” book, and it’s just…well, it’s just great. She’s brutally honest about her life, about her brokenness, about her community, the losses she’s suffered, and the joy that she’s found in her life. I love the book so far (I’m not done yet, but I don’t expect my feelings to change significantly) because she’s just so real – she doesn’t pretend to have it all figured out, she doesn’t pretend that she hasn’t made mistakes and didn’t continue to make them after becoming a Christian, she doesn’t put forward some fake “Jesus changed my life and then everything was perfect” story. It’s true that her faith and her relationship with Jesus did change her life profoundly. But it’s also true that, like all of us, she continued to be a real human being, and like all real human beings, she continued to make mistakes and tried to do better.

I think one of my favorite passages so far was when her new car broke down in the middle of traffic, and all the surrounding drivers were honking their horns and yelling and screaming, and she asked her son Sam to pray with her about it. He says “Sure Mom, just one minute.” At which point he puts his head out the window and yells “Stop yelling at us, you f**ing a**holes!!!”, then proceeds to quietly pray with his mom for God to help them figure out how to get out of the situation they’re in.

(Perhaps I can relate because I can make a truck driver blush with some of the things that come out of my mouth on occasion. Not necessarily proud of that, but it’s still true.)

We landed in Osaka, and I followed signs for International Transfers, while just about everyone else headed straight for immigration. I walked…and walked…and didn’t see anything, so I ended up going into the same large immigration room as everyone else. I didn’t know exactly where I was supposed to go, because I didn’t see anything else about international transfers. I figured that, worst case scenario, I just go out and then come back in, since I had seven hours to kill. I heard a voice say “American! Come this way!” and I saw a man gesturing to me and pointing me to the “foreign passports” line. I got in line, but heard a woman ahead of me being told that since she was a transfer, she should go to a different line. My ears perked up, and when she left the line, I indicated that I was also just transferring to another flight and followed her. I wandered around the main terminal for a few minutes, doing some window shopping. I then caught sight of myself in a reflective surface, and realized that I looked like something that had been caught in a drain during a storm. I headed straight for the ladies’ room to clean myself up before I started to frighten small children. It’s amazing what simply washing your face, putting on clean underwear, some fresh deodorant, and a little makeup can do to your self-image. I set out again, feeling a little more human, and found a place to sit down and read a little. I was distracted by a Japanese gameshow that was being played on a large TV screen over my shoulder. It was garishly colored (both the set and the clothing worn by the participants) and I have no idea what was happening, but much hilarity ensued. There was also a musical number by what must be Japan’s answer to the Backstreet Boys, although the only question I thought they ever begged was “why is this necessary??” They were all wearing Abba-esque coordinating silver outfits, complete with long silver coats that had different-colored linings. They danced, they sang, they emoted. It was quite the sight to behold.

I was getting hungry, and reviewed my options. The restaurants featuring local food had, as I’d remembered from a long-ago trip through Narita Airport in Tokyo, garish plastic replicas of their menu offerings outside each establishment. The other restaurant, if you could call it that, was Starbucks. I decided that bland, processed American food would taste just as bad in another country, and that since I like Japanese food, I’d do my best to mime what I wanted. The restaurant offered several things like spaghetti and taco salad, but I figured that I was in Japan, so I’d get Japanese food. The noodle special was a steaming bowl of broth filled with a large tempura-style prawn, seaweed, tofu, scallions, and delicious soba noodles. It was exactly what I wanted, nice and filling, hot, and even though I couldn’t identify one particular ingredient (probably a different type of tofu, if I had to guess), it totally hit the spot.

With some warm food in my belly and still another four hours before boarding, I went down to the gate and took advantage of the fact that the seats in the waiting area don’t have armrests. I laid down across them and slept on and off for a few hours, waking up shivering at one point. I don’t remember it being particularly cold, but I was shivering nonetheless. At 10 pm, seven hours after I’d arrived in Osaka, boarding began. I settled quickly into my seat and dozed off again. It was a fairly bumpy ride to Guam, at least in the beginning, but I was far too tired to care. We arrived at about 3 am, I was in my room by 4, and sound asleep with the shutters drawn by 4:15 after a quick call to Special K to le him know I’d arrived.

I woke up around 9:30 and called down to the spa. That’s the great thing about a place like Guam – it’s a small island, so most of the hotels here are resorts. For $130 a night, I’m staying in a hotel on the water with five swimming pools and a spa. I had decided that the best way for me to feel human after 30-some hours of traveling was to get a massage. I realize that it’s totally an indulgence, but despite my little orthopedic seat cushion, my back, neck, shoulders, and knees were all aching. And having completed by massage, I have to say that it was totally worth the splurge. The only problem is that I, for some reason, have something happen every time I have to lie face-down on those massage tables. For whatever reason, I get a lot of facial swelling, particularly my lips. Well, when she was done, I looked like Jennifer Coolidge with some bad collagen injections. I decided that retreating to my room while the swelling subsided would be a good idea. I’d had some delicious fresh fruit for breakfast, and I ordered grilled prawns for lunch. Mmm…prawns. If only they hadn’t left the heads on them.

Well, you can’t have everything.

So here I am, with a view of Tumon Bay out my balcony window, clouds on the horizon, and some warm, humid air circulating in through my room. The water looks steel blue, and I’m going to see if I can rent a kayak or something later. For now, I’m going to head down to the gym and get some exercise. The swelling in my face has gone down considerably, although it’s not gone completely. I should be able to walk freely without frightening people, but no promises.

I’ve definitely had worse business trips than this.

This is My Brain on Sleep Deprivation

2008-08-23T07:03:00.002-04:00

The Osaka Airport has free WiFi, which is nice.

The seats in their waiting areas are pretty nice, too. I was able to lie down for a bit.

Not thinking I'll have many problems sleeping once I get to my hotel in Guam. Thank goodness.

Today has lasted forever.

But it's definitely a change of pace.

More later from Guam, once I get there.

The Pickle

2008-08-21T20:23:00.003-04:00

The pickle on the crap sandwich that has been this past week...is that it's supposed to rain every day I'm in Guam. I had really been looking forward to a little stolen time by the pool or on the beach to escape life a little.

Nope. That was clearly asking too much.

(In case you're wondering, I'm still wallowing.)

The True Meaning of Loathing

2008-08-21T13:00:00.003-04:00

It's going to cost $2K to fix Whitey.

I hate that car with a passion.

Really, truly hate it.

I will, I promise, put on my big girl pants and deal with it, but I need a moment to think about how much this situation sucks.

When Will It End?

2008-08-20T09:32:00.002-04:00

When I heard this story on NPR the other day, it had me so angry and upset that I was shouting at the radio and on the verge of tears. No joke, you can ask Special K who was startled by the strength of my reaction.

This administration never ceases to amaze and disgust me with their relentless determination to undermine environmental protection efforts. Their arrogance and sense of entitlement absolutely enrages me, because the complete selfishness they display will affect so much more than just their little insulated world of wealth and privilege. I'm appalled at this blatant attempt to gut one of the most important pieces of environmental legislation since the National Environmental Policy Act was created in 1970, all in the name of, once again, sucking up to the wrong people. I am counting the days until this buffoon and his cronies are out of office, and I pray that we'll be able to some day repair some of the damage that they've done to this country on every front, not just environmental. I don't envy the next president, they've got one hell of a mess to clean up. And if these bastards succeed in pushing these changes through, I hope that they will eventually feel the weight of the damage they're causing.

Terms of Endangerment
Bush admin tries sneaky attack on endangered-species protections

The Bush administration is trying to push through changes to the Endangered Species Act that would -- surprise! -- be detrimental to endangered species. Under proposed regulatory changes, tens of thousands of projects funded, built, or authorized by federal agencies each year would be exempt from currently mandated independent reviews. Instead, the administration has determined that federal agencies now have the know-how to decide whether highways, dams, mines, and the like would harm endangered species -- and the regulations would not allow agencies to include greenhouse-gas emissions in those calculations. "We believe federal action agencies will err on the side of caution in making these determinations," says the proposal. Ha ha ha! Oh, that's not a joke? The proposed changes require only a 30-day public comment period -- not congressional approval -- before being finalized. The Interior Department is not accepting email comments, but you can sound off on the proposal here until Sept. 15. Green groups and Dems are none too happy about it all, and Sen. Barbara Boxer (D-Calif.) has asked that the feds "discontinue further action."

Why My Husband Is A Rockstar, by Mandy, Age 32

2008-08-18T17:51:00.000-04:00

I went swimming with a girlfriend Friday morning, and it felt great to be back in the water – really great. I did pretty well, too – I was constrained more by available time than by lung capacity (hurrah!) and did ¾ mile, with every 5^th lap being a sprint lap.

Keep in mind that the term “sprint” is completely relative – with the Olympics on, I wouldn’t want to invite comparisons. I mentioned that I needed a new suit and goggles because my suits are pretty worn and my goggles fog up before I’ve even completed one length of the pool these days. Special K said, jokingly, “hey, why don’t we get you one of those new high-tech, super fast Speedo suits that all the Olympic swimmers are wearing?” I said “well, as much as those suits are great for helping those elite-level athletes glide through the water, my cellulite jodhpurs would re-introduce enough drag as to make the whole thing something of a waste of money. I appreciate the thought, though.”

But back to my main point. This morning, Special K indulged me and got up at 5:30 when I did, and hit the pool with me. Now, keep in mind that he hasn’t been in the water in many, many months – he’s more of an elliptical trainer kind of guy when it comes down to it. My husband busted his tail and swam for the entire 30+ minutes in which I was doing laps. Go Special K!

This past weekend was a bit if a whirlwind. I’m in the unhappy role of watching a friend make some very, very bad choices and feeling somewhat powerless to help her. The only thing I can do is offer support as she begins to weather the storm she’s running into at full speed. So that’s been on my mind a lot and making it really hard to concentrate on the things I need to concentrate on. We spent lots of time hanging out with the C’s again, which is always fun. We had some friends over for a barbeque on Sunday, which was great. (Special K cleaned the house while I was working at church Sunday morning, which was even better!)

We dropped Whitey off at the mechanic this morning, so I guess we’ve committed to that course of action. I do feel better than I did previously, but it would be, perhaps an exaggeration to say that I feel “good”. I’m not there yet. But he will be fixed (goodbye, emergency fund…) and that will be one less thing to worry about for now. I wish my knee-jerk way to finish that sentence didn’t involve me saying “until something else breaks”. Even though it’s totally not his fault, I have a feeling that Special K feels bad about it. That, or he’s sick of hearing me bitch about it – the facial expressions are similar. But we may hold off on the repairs on my car for a little while, since we *can* get by on one car, as long as it’s one car that we can both drive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not awful, either – it’s just life.

I’m off to Guam in a few days. I’ve noted that it’s part of my “Obscure Destinations” tour, when coupled with my time in Yemen. Although, if I had to pick one in which to spend four days and one in which to spend 2 ½ months, I sure as hell would have reversed them. Ah well. Wasn’t really an option at the time. That would have been a short conversation “would you prefer to spend ten weeks on a tropical island where all your electrical appliances work, they have running water and electricity all the time, and you can drink the water, OR would you like to spend those same 10 weeks being spied on and stared at, crapping out half of your body weight in the space of three days, and working like a dog because that’s the only thing you’re really permitted to do without getting a man’s permission?”

Hmm..that would have been a toughie.

Fickle

2008-08-15T00:00:00.001-04:00

Well, it came about somewhat suddenly today, but Special K and I have decided not to get a new car after all. I drew up two spreadsheets charting our debt pay-down schedule, and…well, even though it was only five months faster if we didn’t have a car payment, it just seemed like it didn’t feel right. We could afford it, but as I had said before, it would slow us down. The question then became, did we want to make that sacrifice? I realized that I think I had been wanting a resolution more than caring about the particular resolution chosen. But that when I really thought about it, I didn’t want to take on more debt, even if it means taking a big chance that Whitey will hold on for another couple of years. K told me he’d been thinking the same thing. Then he asked me if I was happy with the decision.

I think he’s sorry he asked.

No, I’m not happy, I feel as though our options kind of suck right now. I have no confidence that his car won’t continue to be a money pit. My car needs new brake pads, and possibly something done with the alignment. I want to not be wondering when, instead of if, we’ll have to throw more money at the same stupid problem. But at the same time, if we got a new car we’d essentially be buying it with no money down and taking out a good-sized loan, even for a modestly-priced car. Which means that we’d be upside down on the loan basically by the time we got the car home. The thought of that kind of made me sick to think about. Heck – even if we got a used car, it would be practically the same situation.

So, for the moment, I’m really freaking discouraged. It feels like it’s two steps forward, one step back, again, and you know what? I want all three freaking steps to go forward for a little while, dammit. I’ve been very moody lately and probably not very nice, and I know this stress has been a big part of it. And then I feel bad for being that way, and just want to curl up into a little ball and go to sleep. I know that there are rewards, lots of them, to doing the hard work we’re doing now to get to a more financially stable position. I know we’re really fortunate. Things will loosen up a little eventually. But right now we’re not there. In fact, we have a ways to go. And I’m frustrated and impatient and feeling like instead of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, the tunnel just keeps getting longer.

However, I feel like our decision is the lesser of two evils, so that’s something. Getting Whitey fixed won’t cost $19K plus taxes, tags, and delivery fees. I know this is probably the smarter thing to do, even though I won’t get that boost to peace of mind I’d hoped for. I’m just tired and in a funk. It will pass.

On a funnier note, we came home tonight, and as I was putting my bags down I heard Special K exclaim something, and rush out into the backyard. Now, I won’t tell you exactly what he said because it’s not a very nice saying…but…um… it rhymed with “brother clucker”. He had seen one of the culprits, you see. A fat little squirrel that is one of many reasons why we haven’t had a single strawberry off our plants all summer, despite their prodigious attempts to produce fruit. He ran the offender off, but I have a feeling that he wasn’t working alone – so I don’t know if he made any lasting impact. But it did make him feel better, so that was good.

I’m off to bed. I will be going swimming with a girlfriend in the morning, or attempting to. It’s foolishly close to midnight, and I seemed determined to constantly deprive myself of sleep. If only I weren’t a night person with a morning person’s schedule.

My List Keeps Growing

2008-08-07T15:52:00.000-04:00

Some of you may be thinking that I’m referring to my “list of people who piss me off”. But you’d be wrong. (Although that list also keeps growing. I’m talking to you, white truck that cut me off this morning. The roads are filled with bastard people, I tell you.)

The list to which I’m referring is my “List of Things I Never Thought I’d Care About”. As I’ve alluded to, Special K and I are looking for a new car, and we’ve now test driven a few. So far, the car I really thought I’d like (Toyota Matrix), I was very “ehhh…” about, mostly because I didn’t like the sight lines. Everything else about it was great, but I couldn’t see my right-side blind spot to save my life. Granted, that wasn’t helped by the huge Toyota sticker covering the right rear window, but I have a feeling that would be an issue for me. Whereas the Honda Civic, which we hadn’t even been considering until very recently, was great! Loved the ride, loved the interior layout, all of those things.

But the next time we take one out for a test drive, we’re going to take it to a store like Buy, Buy Baby and see if a rear-facing car seat will comfortably fit in it. This is NOT because I’m pregnant, since I am not. But since I hope to be so in a couple of years, and since we plan to keep whatever car we buy for at least 10 years, these are practical considerations. How freaking weird is that going to feel?

“Hi, you see this car I don’t own? Now you see the car seat in it? For kids I don’t have and am not about to have?”

It’s like when Special K and I knew that we were going to get married before he officially popped the question. I’d tell people, and they’d say “oooh! Where’s your ring?” and I’d say “Oh, I don’t have it yet”, and they’d get a pitying look on their faces, as if to say “oh…poor little crazy girl.”

Of course, in life I’d like a British racing green Mini Cooper. But that life wouldn’t include things like car seats and strollers, so maybe I’ll get that after the imaginary kids go to their imaginary colleges. With their tragically far-from-imaginary tuitions.

For the present reality, however, we’re going to test out a couple more things, and take each of the cars we’ve already driven out for another spin. K and I have different ideas of what constitutes “rushing into a decision”, so we’ll see where we land on that one.

Lucky

2008-08-07T10:35:00.003-04:00

Special K and I just returned from another fantastic weekend out at our friends’ farm in Virginia. We love to go there and we can never seem to leave – fortunately K and D are good friends and great hosts and never seem to be in a hurry to kick us out. Our usual routine goes something like this:

- Leave our house some time early Saturday afternoon, armed with food and beverages

- Arrive at their house, to much hugging and laughing, in addition to a very enthusiastic greeting from their dogs

- Begin eating and drinking

- Talk and catch up, often take goats and dogs for an evening watch

- Make and eat dinner, continue with the talking and drinking

- Retire at some point, being well-fed and well-hydrated

- Wake up, have delicious breakfast and lounge with friends and animals

- Consider leaving and going home, get involved in some kind of conversation or activity and lose track of time

- Leave eventually, not wanting to be those houseguests from hell who never leave, but also not wanting to leave the peace, quiet, and excellent company

We got up Saturday morning and took my car, Doris, to get an oil change. I’ve always tried to take care of her, since she’s been a good and largely reliable car for 11 years – I’d like to try for a few more. But with Whitey being out of commission right now, I’m even more paranoid/concerned about taking good care of her. We have one car, and it’s her. She may not always start the first time, but she does always eventually start – she’s never left me stranded anywhere.

We returned home and packed our bags, with the cats looking wistfully at us, as they always do whenever we’re packing. They try to hop in the bags, as if suggesting that we take them with us. This is because they forget that us taking them anywhere involves us taking them somewhere in the car. And they hate being in the car. They hyperventilate and drool when they’re in the car. This is why we do our best to keep them out of the car unless totally necessary. This is why they don’t get to come with us. But it’s also why I am embarrassingly affectionate when we get home. (But really, I’m only embarrassing myself – I don’t think they much care. Besides, if they don’t get embarrassed doing this

or this,

I can’t see how a few smooches from their owner who refers to herself as “mommy” should be a big deal.)

We eventually set off, a little later than I’d hoped, but still with plenty of time ahead of us to enjoy the day. Doris doesn’t have functioning air conditioning (again…) and as much as I love that feature, it falls under the category of “things I don’t care to spend money on at present”. So we rocked the 4-60 air conditioning as we sped out to the farm, continuing our conversation on what to do about our car situation. The main thing is this – Whitey doesn’t seem like a good continued investment of our money, given how much we’ve already spent in the last year – there’s no guarantee that we won’t be looking at a similar repair bill in another couple of months. We aren’t considering replacing him with anything extravagant. I would like to not have the stress of wondering when, not if, something is going to go wrong with one of our cars, given their respective ages. And most importantly, despite the fact that I don’t like car payments and would prefer to be able to pay cash for a car, we are able to afford a modest car payment now. It will slow us down, that’s true – but it’s not going to stop us. So now we just need to get off our butts and do something with this decision. Sooner rather than later, because although Doris still averages a very respectable 32 mpg, she now makes a noise that sounds like metal-on-metal when I make right turns. She’s fine for around town, and given that repairs on her are few and far between, I wouldn’t rule out seeing what the problem is and getting it fixed, but I don’t think she’s meant to be our primary car for too long.

As we rolled into their driveway, it was quiet, which was odd. All returned to normal a minute later when Mac, their German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix, came barreling out the door toward us. I threw my arms open wide and gave him a big hug that left my white t-shirt covered in black and brown fur. I stood up, brushed myself off, and saw D walking toward us with a big smile on his face. K soon followed, and there was more hugging – as well as laughing at my pathological need to “contribute” to the inevitable feast. We always offer to bring something, and this time were told that just bringing some melon would suffice. Well, I tend to be an overachiever, and I brought…four different kinds. A small watermelon, cantaloupe, honeydew, and something I’d never had before, called a canary melon – presumably because if its bright yellow exterior. I also made blueberry muffins for breakfast the next day. D took to calling me Lady of Four Melons. I told him that sounded like a Star Trek character that Kirk would have hit on.

The sky looked vaguely ominous, but it was warm and pleasant, so we settled onto their covered porch. We actually got into a very interesting discussion that lasted most of the afternoon about God, faith, and religion. One of the things that we all remarked upon is that it was a really good and open conversation, even though we came from different perspectives. K and I both really value the great friendship that we have with them, and it’s one of the many examples of how lucky we are.

The rain clouds were apparently just there to fake us out, as they retreated and the sky was once again clear with a few white, fluffy clouds punctuating the blue. We took care of a few chores and K introduced me to their new chickens. One of them broke her leg and D insists on calling her Eileen – but she’s moving around pretty well. They will occasionally all go tearing from the barn to a corner of the field, as if their little chicken lives depend on it. It’s pretty funny to watch, although their haste may be due to the eagles and other birds of prey that lazily circle overhead.

It felt like time to start dinner, and D went to throw the pork loin that he’d been marinating all day onto the grill. It had some kind of sesame-soy-ginger-garlic yumminess going on, and it smelled delicious as it cooked away on the grill. He’d also made summer sauce that morning, a fantastic combination of tomatoes with herbs, spices, and olive oil. You don’t cook it, but just let it sit and have all the flavors meld together. Before serving, you throw chunks of parmesan cheese into it, and serve it with some kind of filled pasta, like tortellini or ravioli. And then you try to leave some for everyone else, because it tastes and smells so good that you could eat all of it and lick the bowl. We also served up some of the four types of melon that Special K and I brought – and I have to say, I really enjoyed the canary melon; it’s kind of a hybrid of a cantaloupe and honeydew, in term of taste. Dinner was, as always, delicious. And accompanied by, perhaps, an ill-advised amount of wine – funny how that seems to happen when we’re there. Special K had developed a nasty headache, so he actually called it quits on the wine fairly early, and K doesn’t drink much to begin with, so there was some balance. We sat out on their stone patio, listening to music, enjoying the night air, and just enjoying each other’s company. I will admit – K and I did a little dancing when the mood and music suited us, since D and K have a kick-ass music collection.

As Special K’s headache got the better of him, he headed off to bed, and I soon fell asleep under the night sky, to the sounds of considerably mellower music. After being gently woken up, I made my way to bed and recommenced dreaming almost instantly.

My eyes slowly opened around 8 am the next morning, and I saw the large, furry form of Mac staring at me, with his tail wagging. Upon seeing my eyes open, he gave a gentle “woof”, and I scooched over to let him jump up on the bed with me. It has become habit that, whenever we stay over, their terribly ferocious dog will snuggle with me in the mornings, because he is, in reality, a total mush bag. This morning was no exception. Special K opened one eye, saw me snuggled up with Mac, and drifted back to sleep.

One by one, we all woke up, eyes squinting in the bright sunshine. Woody, their orange cat, was meowing vociferously, presumably to be fed. I didn’t know where his food was kept, and there’s little you can do to distract a hungry cat from their mission, so he wandered off in search of a human who knew how to use their opposable thumbs to his benefit.

The morning hours flew by, as we cooked a leisurely breakfast and ate out on the patio. I was grateful to have brought sunblock, as I would have been well on my way to another classic burn. In college, I was constantly forgetting to use any kind of sun protection, and the burns that I would get, I would refer to as “a little pink”, and my friends would refer to as “holy crap, when are you going to remember to use sunblock, you moron??” Fortunately, those days are mostly behind me, but I do still forget from time to time.

After lunch, the afternoon saw K and I lazily playing bocce ball, where she completely kicked my butt, and tried to make me feel better about it. Fortunately, I’ve long ago made peace with my lack of athletic ability, much as I’d like to be gifted in some way. The loss was, therefore, not traumatic. Special K and D had gotten sucked into a Travel Channel series on China, and we all settled down to watch. Special K and I later noticed that it was almost 7 pm, and we realized that, once again, we’d stayed far past when we’d intended to, and reluctantly gathered our things to allow K and D to have their evening to themselves. They’re always such gracious hosts, and it’s always so hard to leave – but again, we don’t want to be those awful guests that never seem to just go away.

Driving away, we both talked about how lucky we are to have the friends that we do – people that we wouldn’t want to imagine our lives without. As the night fell, we grew quiet, listening to music on the radio, each lost in our own thoughts. We rolled up in front of our house, and were greeted enthusiastically by Milo and Xena as we walked in the door. It was good to be home, but the time away had been restorative, as it always is.

Deja Vu

2008-07-31T09:29:00.010-04:00

It’s that time of year again – that time when some of us bundle into our cars and head up to beautiful, scenic Troy, NY. Time for the Bakerloo Theatre Project to, once again, enliven the greater Albany areas theater scene another summer of inventive and creative plays, this year another Shakespeare selection, The Tempest, and Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard.

Owing to the car troubles that we had last year, Special K and I decided that we shouldn’t risk it, and instead made arrangements to rent a car. We had elected to carpool with AS and her fella R, and after assembling at our house, we all bundled into our silver PT Cruiser and set off on our merry way, chatting and listening to music. As we neared exit 6 of the New Jersey Turnpike, Special K and I were talking about whether or not we should stop at Mastoris, a diner that was legendary in his family. When Special K was a young lad, growing up in southern New Jersey, his family stumbled across this gem and has made a point of revisiting it often.

Right about this time, the check engine light went on and the car died. On the New Jersey Turnpike. A 2007 PT Cruiser. (Also known as “A Car We Will NEVER Buy”.)

We called the Emergency Roadside Assistance folks from Enterprise, and in all fairness, they really did their best to help us. But there was one snag. Their records showed that we were driving a 15-passenger Chevy van. We gave them the tags, the registration number, and the VIN from the car we were driving, which had a paper tag for a keychain with a number scribbled on it in pen. They claimed that the car wasn’t in their system. It’s not that I didn’t believe them that the car wasn’t in their system, but I also thought it was highly unlikely that people would call and try to get them to pick up random cars, just to see if they would do it. So Special K was patient and persistent, and they eventually figured out who we were and what we were driving.

Then they said that AAA doesn’t pick up on the New Jersey Turnpike, so we’d have to do something about that. Our first attempt to re-start the car didn’t work. Eventually, about 10 minutes later, the car did go on again, and we made it to exit 7, and the Mastoris parking lot. K called the Roadside Assistance folks again, and they reviewed a few options with him. The only option that we refused flat out was continuing to drive the car up to Troy. If it had died once, none of us were confident that it wouldn’t do it again, and with night falling rapidly, none of us were comfortable with that prospect. So we went inside to eat some dinner and get our minds off the current predicament, as the folks at Roadside Assistance figured out what they could do to help us.

Keep in mind that, since the folks in MD had botched the paperwork, Special K had to explain who we were and what we were driving, which usually entailed 20 minutes of reading out the VIN, registration numbers, and all those things. Every time. I have to admit, the fact that this information couldn’t have been corrected was a bit confusing to me. And to R.

Dinner was delicious and enormous – Mastoris is not shy with their portions, and we ended up boxing up a decent portion of what we ate. Then we called Roadside Assistance back.

Their suggestions were to either drive to Philadelphia Airport, which would have involved major backtracking, or drive to Newark Airport, which would have been out of our way. Oh, and by the way they didn’t have any cars to rent us, and since the store in MD had botched the paperwork, they would have to release the vehicle before someone else could rent us one. Which they couldn’t do until they opened the next morning So after hours (literally) on the phone, it was decided that we were down to one option.

We had to stay overnight in Bordentown, NJ, they would tow the car we had, send a taxi to take us to a hotel, and the local Enterprise office would try to get us a car the next day.

Somewhere around midnight, the tow truck showed up. The guy was nice enough, making small talk, and he looked at me and said “So, how do you like the PT Cruiser?”

I am not making this up.

I looked at him quizzically for a moment, before saying “um…not so much.” He didn’t seem to understand that leaving us by the side of the road had soured me on the PT Cruiser, and that I was unlikely to look past that glaring flaw.

We then sat there, since our car got a ride out of the Mastoris parking lot before we did, with all of our stuff, attempting to not move from our spot. Unfortunately it’s a hopping place on a Friday night. One car attempted to pull in, to which AS looked at the driver sharply and said “please don’t park here.” Another car, stuffed to the hilt with Jersey girls, complete with hair, nails, and clearly visible nighttime makeup, started to pull in, saw us glaring at them, and then proceeded along down the parking lot, with much gesticulating. AS said “oh, no she didn’t!”, referring to the obvious attitude of the driver, at which point I whipped my head around and loudly said “I’ll kick that skinny bitch’s ass!”

Clearly I had lost my sense of humor about the evening’s events by that point.

We moved to a less high traffic area and our car arrived a shortly before 1 am. We crawled into the hotel, and were informed by the manager that the credit card number that AAA had faxed over was declined – did we have an alternate form of payment?

I am not making this up, either. It was the pickle on the crap sandwich of our evening.

After much more time on the phone, it was eventually sorted out and we each collapsed into our respective beds. Special K was up until 2ish sorting out further details for the next day. I was unconscious by the time he picked up the phone.

The next day arrived, and the waiting game started. We had to wait for the office in MD to open so that Enterprise could sort out the paperwork. Then we had to wait to see if the local Enterprise office could get us a car. If we didn’t leave by 10 am, we were going to miss the matinee performance of The Tempest. 10 am came and went. As did 11 am. And noon. Fortunately, the hotel management was very nice and let us stay past check-out time, because we had nowhere to go.

Finally, at 12:30, we heard that a car was coming to pick us up. We went to the office, which had stayed open past its closing time to help us, and were on our way in an enormous white Dodge Caravan by 1 pm. There was no way we’d make the matinee, but the evening show seemed do-able, and we were happy to be in something that was definitely NOT a PT Cruiser.

Fortunately, the rest of the drive was easy and uneventful, and we arrived in Troy by 5 pm, in time for the company’s barbeque that afternoon, called Shakespeare in the Pork. There was much hugging and gratitude from the Divine Miss M for our determined efforts to come see her, and much gratitude all around that we had, in fact, actually made it there.

A quick detour to the hotel for us to check in and freshen up, and we were back in Troy for dinner at Bacchus before the show. The pizza was delicious and the beer was cold, so there was nothing to complain about. We made it to the theater by 7:45 and were in our seats, awaiting the opening scenes of The Cherry Orchard.

Miss M was, as always, fabulous and moving and wonderful in her role, and it made me loathe Chekhov less – I’ve been assured that the translations we read in high school were atrocious. We all went to the pub at the student union after the show, as is tradition, and we each enjoyed a couple $2 beers. (Because how can you not enjoy a Sam Adams or Magic Hat for $2?) Fortunately, there were no roaming hooligans pelting people with eggs this year, and we all made it back to the hotel that night without incident.

The next morning, we arose and met Miss M and her family for brunch at the Country View Diner before setting off for DC. My Western omelette was worth every greasy bite, as was the consensus from those who had also gone the savory breakfast route. Fortunately, all those who got pancakes or French toast were equally happy – the diner does breakfast well, as do basically all real diners. That’s one thing I do miss about living in the greater NY/NJ/CT area – diners here are a novelty; there, they’re a mainstay. Our time with her was over far too quickly, but we were grateful for what we had, nonetheless. We decided to caravan back with Brunette and her fella, stopping by Rutt’s Hutt, a Clifton, New Jersey mainstay, famous for it’s fried hot dogs and special relish. And apparently its Peking duck. Who knew?

The hot dogs were, indeed, delicious, as were the onion rings. The duck, which we all ended up sharing to some degree, was actually quite good as well. The atmosphere was pure Sopranos, but the food was delicious, and everyone seemed to look like a Baldwin. It was awesome.

From there, we decided that a return trip to Mastoris was in order, although we were all too full to contemplate another full meal, we certainly felt like some take-out was in order. Upon rolling up to the scene of our Friday night hijinks, we fondly looked at our old spot, now occupied by another vehicle. We also shot daggers at the PT Cruiser we happened to spot in the lot, just because the entire line now fills me with ire. (So, if the towing guy is reading this, I still don’t like the PT Cruiser.)

Special K and I each got a BLT to go, as well as some treats for later. After an hour or so, I started to feel a little room in my belly, and my thoughts immediately turned to that BLT. While I don’t recommend that anyone, most definitely including me, eat like this on a regular basis, I have to say that it was totally worth it. Mastoris does not whimp out on their BLTs – bacon is the main event. As it should be. I took over driving from Special K, who had done all of it to that point, so that he could enjoy his sandwich properly, and the rest of our ride home was peaceful. (Although apparently it’s not nice to go over speed bumps when your husband has already finished his large coffee.)

K and I arrived home to see our lovely little kitties waiting to see us, and I went downstairs to put something away. And found more farking water in our basement. Of course I did. Of course. So we spent a good 20 – 30 minutes sweeping the water toward the drain in the floor and sopping up the rest of the water with the towels that were in the dryer, still there from Thursday night’s cleanup efforts. By the time we were done, we each had our cannoli that we’d brought from Mastoris, and then went to bed, anticipating what we would say, should anyone at Enterprise give us any crap whatsoever about the car we had to return Monday morning. Fortunately, they agreed with our assertion that, since our trip had been largely ruined by this, that we shouldn’t have to pay for the car. I let Special K do the talking, because while I’m capable of being nice and calm and very patient if I have to, he seems to be better at it than me. (See the skinny bitch comment above…)

What else could there be to say, you ask? Well, only this: K’s car is in the shop again because it’s begun to hemorrhage coolant. The repairs will be at least $1100 and could be as much as $1600, which no longer feels like a good investment, since this would be the third or fourth major repair to Whitey since we’ve been married. I’m so frustrated, and I really feel defeated in a way, because just when I feel like we’re really able to be making some good progress, something happens to kick us right in the butt. We’re still weighing options right now, but a new car may be in our future. I’m really grateful that we’re now able to make a car payment if we really need to. I’m also really happy that this didn’t happen six months ago. So it could be worse, but this is definitely a big setback.

We may try to make it for a while with one car, but since that one car will be my 1997 Elantra, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that being our only car. So we have some big choices to ponder over the next few weeks. It’s just so frustrating, because this will slow us down. We’re not considering at anything very high-end or expensive, but it would need to be something that lasts. We’re also not sure about buying a used car – we’re open to the idea, but we could be back in this same situation in a year and that makes us nervous, since we feel like we’ve already thrown away quite enough money for a while. So we’re weighing options and I know K also feels really frustrated.

Basically, the last several days have felt a lot more difficult than they needed to be. There have been some definite bright spots, but it feels like something is trying to drag us down.

But, as I’ve tried to remind myself many, many times over, including the paragraph before last, things are manageable, and I’m grateful that they’ve come at a time when we’ve had the means to manage them. I know that we’re really very lucky, it just takes a while to spot sometimes.

So, You Know What's Fun?

2008-07-25T08:44:00.002-04:00

Coming home to find that water has seeped up into your basement through the floor.

Not exactly what we had planned for last night, but we did get it cleaned up and there wasn't too much damage (except for an old poster that I loved). I think most things, including K's drum kit, were spared, so it could have been worse. There was, however, a momentary panic when we saw that water was all around the kit - wood (like the bass drum) absorbs water and can warp, although I think we got it before anything bad happened. But it still annoyed the crap out of me. Thank goodness we have so many towels - all of which went straight into the washing machine with lots of soap and lots of hot water after soaking up what Special K and I referred to as "floor mung".

Happy Friday - it's going to be a great weekend!!

How Did It Happen?

2008-07-23T09:04:00.001-04:00

Funny how this summer, when viewed from a distance (back in April or May) didn’t seem like it would be that busy. Much like a turtle will grow (or not) to fit the size of the aquarium in which it’s housed, I seem to be on a mission to fill all available time until very little remains. Although, happily, we did manage to squeeze in a long weekend with not much to do, not that long ago. It was blissful, I tell you. Felt like being on vacation.

Fortunately, most of the things that have been filling our days and evenings have been fun things – time with family, time with friends. Time drinking wine with family and friends. All good things. Now if I can just sleep for more than 5 hours at a time on a consistent basis, good things will happen, I know it. Some of it is totally my own fault, though. Last night, I suddenly realized it was midnight and set about a flurry of activity – preparing lunches for today, finishing and folding laundry, cleaning up the few pots and pans left over from dinner. Yes, this is a sickness – but as I get older, my tolerance for mess and clutter is decreasing, and when I’m in a mood, it’s best to just stay out of the way. I sank into bed at 12:45, with my mind still whirling and wide awake. It calmed down about 20 minutes later, and the alarm went off way too quickly in the morning.

By way of plugging a favorite new discovery, Special K and I joined some friends at a new place tonight, called Big Buns. I know, I know…but this place is awesome, and their burgers are just so much better than Five Guys. Seriously.

The fact that they sell t-shirts that say “I like Big Buns and I can NOT lie” is just the ketchup on the burger.

You can order one of four types of burgers (beef, chicken, fish, and Portobello, I believe) on a bun or in a bowl, and any one of a slew of toppings. I got a beef burger, medium-rare (and it actually was) on a wheat bun with Swiss cheese, grilled onions, lettuce, tomato, corn relish (which I would leave off in future), and honey mustard, with a side of sweet potato fries.

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

It was so good. Soooooo good. Good enough to make me actually consider going to Arlington again just so I could eat there. And for someone who loathes Northern Virginia, that’s really saying something.

The best/worst part was the chocolate malt we got at the end of the night with extra malt. It was magically delicious, but the combo of (let’s face it) way too much food and a lot of dairy made my intermittent lactose intolerance decide to pay a visit. Not pretty – although I’d say that it was still worth it, despite knowing that I’ll be paying for it for a few more days. We got home and I looked at my profile in the mirror, observing my larger-than-it-was-that-morning belly, thinking that the “fat baby” was back. No, no – I just needed to digest my enormous dinner. So, perhaps I’ll take it a little easier next time, since I seriously doubt that my lunchtime workout did much to offset the consequences of that dinner. (You can file this away under “reasons Mandy will never be skinny”.)

Fortunately, it’s generated a wicked food coma, so going to sleep at a relatively early hour shouldn’t be a problem tonight, even if I do end up dreaming about burgers and malts. (Let’s hope not, though. That would be sad.)

sigh

2008-07-18T22:15:00.002-04:00

There's never really a *good* time for the state to tell you that you owe them almost $400 in taxes, even though Turbo Tax said you didn't (although it appears that it told us different things in different places, we just didn't look in all of them). But there's always a good time to be bitter about it.

Like now.

And possibly Monday, when we mail the farking check.

(Oh, BTW - we got the bill today and it's due August 1st. Even my hateful credit card with Chase Bank gives you more than that.)

Too bad I already got my hair cut - if I'd have known this was going to happen, I'd have waited until next month.

Back from the Frozen North

2008-07-15T11:59:00.011-04:00

Well, Anchorage isn’t exactly frozen, but coming from a DC-style summer, being in the mid-50s and needing a jacket feels pretty chilly. I got back recently and am taking a leisurely morning before I head into the office, mostly because my time there was pretty intense and tiring. (Of course, this didn’t mean I was able to actually sleep in. Dammit.) The last couple weeks have been a total whirlwind, and I am pooped, I have to say.

I had been working furiously up until the day I had to leave, at one point not being able to sleep because I had so much to do and my brain wouldn’t quiet down. So I got up at 2:30 am and turned on my computer to get some things done. Sick and wrong, I know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. By the time Wednesday morning rolled around, our 4 am wakeup seemed kind of brutal. Fortunately I’d packed the night before, so getting ready to leave didn’t require anything more than usual, and since traffic was also very light at 5 am, we didn’t have any problems getting me to the airport in plenty of time. The flight to Chicago was uneventful, and although I didn’t get an actual seat assignment until about 20 minutes before boarding because the flight was so full and they essentially waited until the end to find a place for me. Fortunately, that still left enough time for me to go get some food, since there would be nothing except for complimentary beverage service on my 6 ½ hour flight. And those two glasses of free water weren’t likely to be sufficient to tide me over. (Call me greedy if you must.)

I was seated between a nice older gentleman and his son, both of whom were heading to Alaska on a fishing trip. I eventually asked if they’d like to sit together so they wouldn’t feel the need to talk over me, and ended up with a window seat. (I really was just trying to be nice, but I wasn’t sad to lose the middle seat, either.) I wasn’t sure what we’d see from the sky as we headed over to Anchorage, but it ended up looking remarkably like flying over the Alps, only much wilder and more rugged. Mountain tops burst through the cloud cover, looking as though there was a whole other landscape that started at cloud level, covered in snow. I’m not sure exactly what we were flying over some of the time, it had to be a mix of Alaska, British Columbia, and Alberta, but the view was incomparable. Once we descended below the clouds over Anchorage, I was shocked to see so much agricultural land. I never really associated Alaska with farming, but when you think about it, 20 – 23 hours of daylight over four months actually does give you plenty of sunlight and adequate temperatures to grow quite a lot of produce, as long as it’s okay with cooler temperatures. We looked across the water, and the man next to me pointed to an airstrip visible from the left side of the plane and said “I guess that must be the airport!”. As we began to descend to a very low altitude and were nowhere near the airstrip in question, I sincerely hoped that he was mistaken or else we were likely to have a very bumpy landing – plus I’ve heard that it’s frowned upon for commercial pilots to buzz the tower.

It turns out that we were looking at the airstrip for Elmendorf Air Force Base, which is around the bend from Ted Stevens International Airport, thank goodness. We landed smoothly, and I deplaned in a bit of a daze, having received four voicemail messages from my client about a meeting that we were to have that afternoon, asking me when I would be arriving. I called him back to let him know I’d just landed, and that our 4:00 meeting time should allow me sufficient time to get to my hotel, put my stuff down, and head out to his hotel. I did, however, stop to notice that the airport in Anchorage includes, among its list of "odd-sized checked items" firearms and large animals. Interesting. When getting my rental car, I was informed that I could upgrade to a Ford F-150 for free. I said that I appreciated the offer, but that the compact car I’d reserved would be just fine. So I climbed into my little red Ford Focus and headed into Anchorage.

Anchorage is a fairly small city, with a population of less than 300,000. That population, however, makes it the biggest city in the state by a healthy margin. Alaska may be the largest state in terms of land area, but it’s one of the smallest in terms of population. Despite the myriad one-way streets, navigating through Anchorage was a fairly simple task, and my hotel was centrally located. It was overcast, and would remain so for the rest of my time there, but the Chugach Mountains were off in the distance, surrounding the city. After a couple hours of meetings, wherein I got to meet some new colleagues, we broke for dinner and went to a place called Humpy’s. I am not making that up.

As may seem obvious, the seafood in Alaska is delicious, so I ate quite a bit of it starting with the horseradish-crusted halibut I had that night. Sadly, I’m not a big salmon fan, since that’s the other major offering. Although it’s like not eating cheese in Wisconsin, I didn’t get any salmon while I was in Alaska. I was practically falling asleep by 8 pm (midnight on the east coast, thereby making for a 20-hour day so far), so I headed back to my hotel, stopping to call a friend who moved to the west coast a year or so ago since we were much closer in time zones than we had been for a while. We chatted until I couldn’t hold my eyes open anymore, and I went to sleep less than 30 seconds after we hung up.

I woke up early (around 4 am, local time) to get some work done that morning, including some rehearsing for the 2-day training program I was going to be giving. Fortunately, one of my newly-introduced colleagues was going to be presenting with me, and was very experienced at it. Having him there was such a relief for me, since he was able to provide context specific to the audience that I couldn’t provide. The first day went off quite nicely, the audience was engaged and asking questions and there was a great dialog going. That evening we went out to dinner at The Sourdough Mining Company, a barbeque place that had not only the most delicious corn fritters served with honey butter - so delicious that I actually almost forgave them for calling them "korn fritters", but that also had some really, really good ribs. And they weren’t joking when they said it was a pile of ribs. I had to get some help, and ended up leaving some on my plate. Once again, the evening hours had me struggling to stay awake, so I went back to my hotel, prepared some more materials for the next morning, and hit the sheets. I woke up later than planned when I got a random call on my cell phone at 5:30 am – much as I’m sure it was some variety of telemarketer, I was actually grateful to them since I had set the time for my alarm, but neglected to turn it on. Whoops.

I arrived at the conference room with a few minutes to spare, delighted to see that everyone who was there the previous day had actually returned! Hurrah! It couldn’t have been that bad if they came back!

I was feeling much more comfortable the second day, and we plowed through, able to wrap up early. The feedback that I received was very positive, and given the lightning-fast pace with which everything was assembled, I was very, very happy. Normally these things take weeks/months to prepare, and I had done it in less than two weeks. So, we did what needed to be done and that it was well-received. Yay!

With an entire afternoon stretching out in front of me, I decided that I should get out a little. I had been on a plane for enough hours to get me to Europe, and if all I saw was the inside of a couple of hotels, I would not consider that to be a good trade. So on the recommendation of a colleague, I set off to have lunch at the Moose’s Tooth (mmm…pizza and beer…) and then took off down Seward Highway to Portage Valley. To get to Portage Valley, you drive down Turnagain Arm of Cook’s Inlet which is kind of a hybrid of what I would think that Norway looks like, combined with the Alps. Having never been to either, this is purely hypothetical, but holy crap was this place beautiful. I couldn’t tell if the clouds were too low or the mountains were too high, but the clouds could never clear the top. The road hugged the water as I drove down the road, with mudflats extending out from the banks into the water. After leaving Anchorage, it wasn’t long before I was in Chugach State Park and then Chugach National Forest. I would periodically stop and hop out to take pictures, quickly hopping back into the car since it was actually quite a bit chillier now that I had left Anchorage and I still had just the one coat. As I drove into the valley, I was driving closer and closer to the glaciers. There were multiple places to turn off the road and step out, and it was impossible not to notice the color of the water – the streams were very, very clear, and the water was a very cool, muted aqua color. It was ridiculously picturesque, which may explain why I took 80-some pictures of the same landscape. Everything just looked new and different.

I drove up a little bit further and came upon Portage Lake, at the other side of which rests Portage Glacier, which is a permanent glacier that rests on the Kenai Peninsula. (Well, it’s been shrinking rapidly thanks to global warming [grr…], but it’s considered to be permanent.) It’s a valley glacier, meaning that it winds along a valley floor, and it’s surrounded by a few hanging glaciers – glaciers that hang down the sides of mountains. Portage Lake actually contains icebergs, which I also hadn’t seen before, although I think I was there at the time of year during which they are least likely to be impressive – what I saw looked more like ice chips in comparison to what was hanging off the mountains, and certainly didn’t look capable of sinking the Titanic. And by the way, in case it wasn’t really obvious, a lake that is formed from glacier water is frickin’ cold.

I wandered around this completely foreign environment for a little while, just kind of in awe of the scale of it. Then I saw a sign telling visitors that there were bears that had been wandering around lately that had become used to being fed by humans, followed by the request that people not feed them.

I decided to hop back into the car, in case they would be okay with feeding on humans in lieu of a different kind of snack.

The drive back to Anchorage was punctuated with similar stops to take pictures, some of which involved veering perilously off the highway to a small turn-in, and zooming back out, attempting to come up to highway speed while apparently really pissing off some guy behind me who was dragging a big boat. (I couldn’t see him dragging the boat, just that he was in a truck, so I had no reason to think that his stopping capability would be compromised since there was adequate room otherwise. Whoops. Well, no harm, no foul.) It had been largely overcast for most of my time there, but as I headed back to town, the sun started to peek through the clouds at certain points, providing some fantastic natural lighting – or at least, the kind I always like to take pictures of. It wasn’t sunset, though – sunset doesn’t really happen in summer, it’s more like a few hours of twilight between 2 and 5 am. I rolled back into my hotel and I remember feeling so very tired and hungry. I wandered around downtown Anchorage a bit then went back to my hotel to get dinner. I finally headed up to my room to pack and prepare to get up early yet again the next morning. I was once again struck by how surreal it is to look out the window at 11 pm and see it as bright as it was at 11 am.

I was on my way to the airport and saw a lovely photo opportunity to my left, however I couldn't really stop to take a picture. So I turned around, away from the airport, and went back, eventually stopping on the shoulder of a not-at-all-busy highway on-ramp to capture the image. I am my father's daughter. Not sure if it looks as good on film as it did in person, but judge for yourselves, I suppose...

The flight back home was fairly uneventful. I spent a good deal of time peering out the window again, looking at the vast expanse of mountains and glaciers below me. At some point, the smooth white surface was pitted with little circles of intense aquamarine, as if a series of teeny little lakes had formed by someone sprinkling the surface with hot water or something. I eventually settled back with my book (an excellent book called “What is the What”, by Dave Eggers – which I highly recommend, by the way) and the rest of the time went by fairly quickly. I had to change planes in Chicago again, which went smoothly to my great surprise since I tend to think of O’Hare as a black hole of travel.

I finally arrived home in DC at 9 pm-ish, to be greeted by Special K at the airport. Bless his little heart, he cleaned the house before I got home, so we arrived home and I collapsed into bed.

So there you go – that’s why there’s been so much radio silence (I’ve been neglecting e-mail as well), and that’s my lil’ Alaskan adventure. Now I’m ready for a long, long nap.

Heading Out

2008-07-07T10:59:00.000-04:00

This week will see me taking off for a new destination – I’m heading to Alaska for work for a few days. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that this will be an all work trip and I’ll have basically no time for exploring. And my digital camera has picked a lousy time to go on the fritz. Ah well…I’ll have to take a picture with my mind. The trip was approved at the very last minute, so I still have to remind myself that I’m actually going.

Things have been *insane* lately, for reasons both good and bad. (Hence the lack o' writing.) My brother and his family were in town, and it was great to spend so much time with them. My nephews are getting so big, and my niece is freaking me out with how quickly she’s growing – they are awesome kids. We also had my brother and sister in law over for dinner one night, and it was really fun to have time to just hang out.

In the midst of all this family togetherness, we also had a lovely party to attend for Brunette’s upcoming nuptials. Special K whipped up some of his special roasted red pepper and ancho chile salsa (thank you, Bobby Flay), and I made some artichoke-goat cheese dip and a raspberry-lemon cake. AS made some of her family recipe hummus and all of this was complimented by some delicious barbeque. Mmm…barbeque. It was a great day and a really fun celebration.

The non-fun part in all of this was that I had a major work deadline moved up on me by about 6 weeks, which resulted in a lot of hours last week. I think it’s been largely successful so far, but there will be more work to come. I knew that my fairly reasonable schedule wasn’t going to be something I could count on all the time, and it appears that I’ve hit my anticipated busy patch. It’s fine, though - it’s still different from life at my old company in many, many good ways.

Now I just need to catch up on sleep.

Special K is a very happy boy today, because he received his referral bonus for referring me to the company. We had previously agreed that he would have some of that money to spend on whatever he wanted, and the rest of it would go for our more responsible financial endeavors (i.e., digging out of our mountain of debt). So he is now the proud owner-to-be of a new 8-inch tom, courtesy of eBay, new drumheads, and a cymbal, courtesy of Guitar Center’s Independence Day sale. I figure that he’s got a gift and it’s really the only thing he spends any amount of money on – so that’s something that we should encourage as a family. So, we do.

And now, back to the pile of work awaiting me. Lots to do in the next couple of days, so we’ll see how it goes.

ahem

2008-06-23T10:21:00.002-04:00

Most of you who know me, know my views on…well, a lot of things, because I am both loud and opinionated. I just hope I pull it off with panache. Or moxie. Take your pick.

But in response to this BS about opening up offshore oil drilling in response to rising oil prices that’s been making the rounds, the following analogy came to mind.

Let’s say you know someone who’s a heroin addict. So, you go up to them one day and say “well, I know you’re having a tough time. But it’s okay, I’ve figured out how to give you some relief. I know where you can get some more heroin.”

We’re using fossil fuels at an inherently unsustainable rate, and have been for YEARS. So much of our built environment has been built around this ridiculously unsustainable and unhealthy habit of ours. The solution to our problems is not going to lie in finding ways to extend our addiction to them for a few more months or years. The solution lies in getting off fossil fuels.

And don’t even get me started on the environmental implications of offshore drilling. Or the fact that it will take years before we actually see any of the piddling amount of oil that might be gained at the price of irreversible environmental destruction.

*temporarily stepping off soapbox*

How You've Grown

2008-06-09T16:13:00.002-04:00

I have been far less diligent about it in recent years, but for a long time I’ve kept a journal –since my high school years. Since I just turned 32, that’s a lot of writing. I was going through a couple things in the basement and came across the box where I keep my old journals. I randomly pulled one out, and it was one that I started almost exactly 10 years ago. I flipped through it, pausing to read some passages more thoroughly, with this kind of detached feeling. It wasn’t that I felt as though I hadn’t been through everything I’d written about, but it just really felt like another life and another person. So much was different about me and my life, and it was really kind of interesting to read it from the perspective of my 10-years-older self. There were a few relationships that stood out (both capital “R” and small “r”), some of it made me sad, and some of it made me laugh out loud.

I had just finished college, and I was job-hunting. I finally found one and moved up to Cold Spring Harbor, NY, soon finding an apartment in nearby Huntington and settling in. Looking back, I am really glad that I made that move, even though it was completely outside my comfort zone, in about every way. I remember that feeling of isolation, the months and months of $200+ long distance bills, and the feeling that my life was 250 miles away from where I lived. But I also remember feeling like I got to know myself better at that time than any other, and I grew and changed more than would have been possible if I’d stayed somewhere safe and familiar. I essentially moved for the job, and I knew only one person in the area. A friend from college, or someone that I had thought was a friend. (Let’s call her Drama. Those of you who have known me since college may well know exactly who I’m talking about.)

I don’t know if the term “frenemies” had yet been coined, or if it was even really relevant to us, but reading my old journal, it was immediately clear to me just how toxic the friendship was – something I didn’t figure out soon enough. Drama and I got to know each other through an extracurricular activity we both participated in during college. She was very pretty and smart (probably still is both of those things, actually), wildly insecure, and could be…a little difficult sometimes. (I probably shouldn’t speculate on whether or not that’s still true.) But she was cool and we were friends.

Well, Drama invited me to a friend’s house for a 4^th of July weekend party. Having no better options in Long Island, a place chock full of young families where I knew absolutely no one my age or situation, I happily went along. I drove, because like all real Manhattanites, not only didn’t Drama have a car, I don’t know if she’d even driven one in years. We arrived at her friend’s house in CT and a very fun weekend of barbecuing, beer, and a jaunt out to see “Armageddon” in the theaters ensued. Over the course of this weekend, we both met the same guy – D. I thought he was kinda cute, and I also thought he was kinda flirting with me and I kinda liked it. He was a photographer, just starting out, with an unpaid internship for a very well-known celebrity photographer. He was smart and funny and a really interesting person. It was a fun weekend, and I was feeling good about myself.

Now, there are many details of the following events that I didn’t remember before perusing my journal, but I had always remembered the major points. The details made it even funnier – although at the time it wasn’t exactly funny to me.

Drama and I went to leave at the end of the weekend and he said something about seeing both of us later that night. I didn’t know what he was talking about, and Drama told me that he’d mentioned hanging out in NYC with us later. Because of the aforementioned flirting and good feelings, I thought that sounded like a *great* idea. So Drama and I went back to her apartment and hung out there. After a while, it was getting late, and with no word from D, I decided to head back to my place on Long Island. The next day, feeling somewhat girly and giddy, both in good ways, I asked Drama if she could give me D’s number. She ignored my first request, and then when I repeated it, said she’d look for it. A little time passed with no word on the subject from her, so I asked her again. She said she’d lost it.

I was pretty naïve and trusting at the age of 22. So I believed her.

But I wasn’t stupid. So I e-mailed her friend who had hosted the party, and asked her for D’s information. She happily gave it to me, and I called him. We talked for ages, and he asked me if I wanted to go out that Friday. I most definitely did, so I said yes. I made the mistake of mentioning this to Drama when she’d asked me to do something that Friday, and her immediate reply was:

“Well, that’s ironic because I’ve called him three times and he never called me back.”

Um…at the age of 22, I was pissed and hurt that she’d lied to me. At the age of 32, I think “that’s not ironic, that’s just sad.”

She then asked where we were going to be going so that she could come along.

I am not making this up. I also did not answer that question.

So she repeated it. And said that she could just add it to her e-mail signature if I kept not answering her.

I continued to not answer the question. I’d had no idea that she was even interested in him. And then I started to think back and realize that she had always seen me as the fat, ugly friend who made her feel better about herself. Because when we went out together, of course any guys we came across would be interested in her, I was just there to help introduce them. I remembered things like her saying, upon me describing what I thought was my cute new haircut “if you’re prettier than me now, I’ll be so upset!” Things like her mocking me and taking credit for things as silly as my flattering choice of makeup (which, incidentally, wasn’t true) in front of people.

So really, when you think about it, who would be interested in me? Well, as I had started to grow up, gain some self-confidence, and realize that I was neither fat nor ugly, it turned out that at least someone would be interested in me. She couldn’t take it. Of course it was ironic that he wanted to see me. And I started to not like her – an awkward situation since Drama was my only friend there.

D and I did go out that Friday night, alone, and we had a wonderful time. We went to a nice restaurant, he took me out dancing, and it was just fun. Fun had been distinctly lacking in most areas of my New York life to that point, so I was glad for the change. We talked and hung out until the very wee hours of the morning; I drove back to my apartment, and crawled into bed happy – replaying the events of the night in my head with a smile on my face as I drifted off to sleep.

The telephone rang at 7 am Saturday morning. It was Drama. Calling to inform me that our previously agreed-upon plans for the day weren’t going to work, but that she thought that, instead, it would be a good idea for me to come into the city to meet up with her and we could “go shopping for some hair things.”

Did I mention it was 7 am?

I said that if our original plans weren’t going to work, then maybe we should just reschedule for another day – I was kind of tired anyway. At which point she screeched into the phone “ What did you do last night???” I was taken aback at this reaction, stammered something about dinner and dancing (a friend later gave me a much better, and much funnier, suggestion of what I should have said – a crude reference to...er…nocturnal activities), at which point she said it was really crappy of me to ditch her because of some guy. I tried to say that I didn’t do any such thing, and that was basically the end of the call.

Now, some of my very kind older colleagues at my job gave me the same advice that a friend of mine at the time gave me – I had saved the e-mail for some reason. It read:

“I don’t want to sound harsh, but, um…THAT BITCH IS NOT YOUR FRIEND, DUMP HER IMMEDIATELY.”

I would actually tell myself that as well, if I could talk to myself 10 years ago. But at the time, it was all kind of convoluted because, you see, she was my only friend there. Perspective is everything.

This was probably my first lesson in how it’s better to be alone than be in an unhealthy relationship, whether you’re talking about a Relationship or a relationship. I didn’t really learn it the first time. Or for many times after that.

D and I saw each other a couple more times, talked on the phone a couple more times (wherein he apparently mentioned that Drama was not on his list of favorite people), and that was basically it. He moved frequently because he was going from overpriced sublet to overpriced sublet, and it just fizzled. I never really understood exactly why, but it was fine, in the end. I have always had a low tolerance for instability, and as much as I admired the dedication and commitment that made him something of a itinerant artist, it was one of many things that made it not meant to be.

Drama eventually began speaking to me again, although I’m baffled as to why I ever wanted her to. Probably because I really didn’t want her to be mad at me, I didn’t want to be alone – I don’t know the reasons. But they were somewhat doormat-ish.

It all finally really ended with Drama right before I ended up leaving Long Island, almost two years and many great friends and great experiences which hadn’t involved her later. We were hanging out one weekend, and she stole things from me. Really, truly stole things – an item of clothing that I had just purchased that she’d tried on as well and declined to purchase, and a couple other smaller things.

The last I heard from her was when I was in grad school. She IM’d me as I was sitting in my office, and mentioned something about coming out to Wisconsin to visit me. I didn’t respond. (I didn’t think I could afford to replace my stuff, for starters.)

I think that was my first official friend breakup. Not really my last, but it’s certainly the one that stands out. Upon reflection, upon reading all that stuff that was rattling around in my head and that made it to paper, I have to admit to some mixed feelings. There are parts that I think are hilarious because they’re so bizarre, and parts that make me a little sad because of how little I thought I deserved and how insecure she was. But it’s all in the past, either way. Thank goodness. I hope that she’s happier with herself and her life, and I know that I’m happier with my life.

But this is partly why I don’t understand people who say they wish they could be 21 again, knowing what they know now. I mean, there is something exciting about realizing all that you have ahead of you and how quickly it goes; it’s something that you really don’t truly appreciate until the years have already started to slip by faster than you can keep track of them. I don’t regret any of the choices I made – dumb, smart, cowardly or brave. They’re why I am who I am, and most days I like who I’ve become.

But good Lord, sheep learn faster than me. If I had to do all that crap again, I’d probably hit menopause before I’d find a healthy relationship.

The Hamster is Running

2008-06-03T10:47:00.000-04:00

I have been reading a really interesting and really thought-provoking book that has forced me to look at my own behavior and draw some uncomfortable conclusions. It’s called The Overspent American, and it’s a really interesting look at consumerism and what drives us to spend. I think I’ve posted before about how I think Special K and I are fairly fortunate in that we have minimal “keeping up with the Joneses” pressure – I don’t think any of our friends would ever judge us or make us feel better or worse about ourselves based on what we do or don’t have. I don’t consider myself to be particularly materialistic, nor is K. We don’t think of life in terms of “if we only made X amount more money a year, we’d be happy” or “if we just could afford ___, everything would be great”. We’re working aggressively on paying off debt, which we’re finally in a position to do; I’m really grateful for all the things we’ve been given, and I pray we can use them wisely. So I think we do okay, and I don’t think we really want for much of anything. What a great feeling!

Well, all of this self-reflection has led me to the conclusion that it’s just a big, fat load of hooey and that I’m just as susceptible to this pressure to consume as anyone else. We have things that we like, things that we tend to purchase, and things that we don’t tend to care to spend our money on, but I know I see those things as more a reflection of what we like and our passions and values than a desire to let everyone know that we spend money on those things and to use them as status symbols. But now I’m starting to question where these passions came from and who’s look at the reflection –I start to tie my brain up in knots when I parse to that level. Interesting to do, and I am starting to really question how much of it is externally-driven, but very convoluted.

The one way in that I’ve been really conscious of this pressure to keep up lately is that I feel a distinct, although completely unspoken, pressure to dress better at work. Our firm holds to a definite formal businesswear dress code, more formal than my last job in the same industry. Nothing wrong with that, it’s their prerogative, and I do think that it’s better than people taking “business casual” too far, where their staff starts showing up in jeans and hoodies – I can support the value of looking professional, particularly in this field. But it’s definitely strange. I remember my first job out of college – I had to dress up more for my retail side job than for my actual office job. The places I’ve worked since have become slowly more formal, but this is just a different realm. And I feel pressure. Image counts in this field, much as I wish it didn’t.

I’ve also been thinking back to movies that I’ll watch or TV shows and I know that the experience of watching those things can often make me think “I want _____, just like she’s wearing” or something like that. It’s very unsettling to see how easily swayed I am. I hadn’t been to a shopping mall in a while, and I walked in one to buy something specific, and was immediately very conscious of this feeling of “I want that!” from looking in shop windows. It was really strange, because I think I hadn’t felt that in a while – it was very distinct. I didn’t buy anything other than the thing I specifically went there for, but it was so tempting.

Now, there are some things that I buy for specific reasons – I don’t buy personal care products, including cosmetics, that have been tested on animals, because I think it’s wrong. That leaves out a lot of mass-market brands (Cover Girl, Maybelline, L’Oreal, etc.), although there are a few (Almay, Revlon) that don’t. That means that I buy most of my hair and body products at Whole Foods, from specific other companies that I know don’t test. I don’t give a crap about what label is on them, I care about the company ethics. Which is why I’m pissed that Clorox, a company that does test on animals and makes BLEACH, despite their new “Green Works” line of cleaning products, bought Burt’s Bees, a heretofore pretty environmentally sound company. Now I don’t buy Burt’s Bees anymore, which sucks because I loved their products. But if their money goes to support a company that has practices I don’t support, I can’t support them.

I love my car because it runs and because it’s paid for, but when it’s time to get a new one (which I will also drive forever, as I’ve done with my now 11-year old car), I want to get a hybrid. They can be more expensive cars, but they also have lower emissions and greatly improved gas mileage (despite recent reports about Geo Metros from 10 years ago). That fits in with my beliefs and my passions about conservation and trying to walk a little more lightly on the earth. But is that, in itself, an unconscious status thing? I genuinely don’t think so, but I’m really wondering now.

I also try to buy well-made clothes because they tend to last longer, fit me better, and hold up well. (Which helps with that whole “professional appearance” thing.) But I also virtually always buy them on sale or at outlets or something, since I love getting a bargain. I don’t care about labels, per se, and I usually think that ostentatious labels are tacky, but I know I associate some particular labels and designers with higher quality, when it may just be a higher price tag with similar quality to what I’d find at Target. I just assume it’s better. This is a difficult process for me to sort through.

So, what do I do with this now? Does self-awareness always lead to action? Clearly not, I have many personal examples of my own failure to do anything about particular revelations I’ve had. The thing that really freaks me out, though, is that I really don’t want to be materialistic and I really don’t want to set a bad example for the kids that we hope to have one day. And I know that I can’t even begin to grasp the difficulties of being a parent, since I’m not one yet. But how do you help kids resist this pressure to consume, consume, consume, when we can all remember that time where the MOST IMPORTANT THING EVER was fitting in? Which usually meant an attempt at the right clothes and the right stuff. I mean, I can’t even help myself resist that pressure, apparently. And I already know that the best way to promote conservation and walking lightly on the earth is to just consume less crap in the first place.

It’s an excellent book and like I said, it’s caused me to do some serious self-reflection. The data are from the late 90s, but the message is still highly relevant, even if the cultural reference points are a bit dated. So, go check it out from the library and let me know what you think…

Say Wha-?

2008-06-02T17:13:00.000-04:00

So, I met up with some friends for lunch the other day. They were friends from my old job who hadn’t seen my new uber-short haircut. (Oh yeah – my hair is way shorter now. I lurves it.) So one of them, who happens to be 23, came up to me and said “oh – you have Mom Hair!”

Um….what?

A look of horror crossed my face, as I felt like I should be wearing Mom Jeans, complete with pleats and high waist, white Reebok sneakers, and a pastel-colored polo shirt of some description, preferably with a sweater tied around my neck, in a coordinating pastel. I don’t think she realized that I took it as an insult, but when I said something to indicate that I didn’t think it was flattering, she said, in her attempt to clarify “no, no – it’s just…well, it’s just Mom Hair.”

Harrumph.

Now, let me take this opportunity to state that I have nothing against motherhood, nor do I think motherhood inherently makes one hopelessly devoid of style. Not the case at all. I know many, many stylish moms. Well done, them. I hope to be one of them one day. But Mom Hair isn’t a complimentary observation, no matter how you put it – and is somewhat deflating to hear when you’re thinking that your new haircut looks kind of sassy and sophisticated. Particularly when you’ve been feeling, as I have lately, somewhat frumpy and squashy-looking.

Well, I still do really like my haircut, although it does look better with a little bit more in the way of styling products than I’m accustomed to using. I’ve decided that I can no longer chalk my perpetual inactivity up to my “transition” and have been going to the gym at lunch as my schedule allows. So I feel like I’m moving back into my comfort zone. And really, now that it’s even shorter, my hair seems so much more mold-able, and I get the most SPECTACULARLY AWESOME bed-head. Blows the old stuff out of the water, and bears a somewhat disquieting (awesomely disquieting) resemblance to my mom’s fellow countryman, and therefore a half-brother of mine of sorts, Yahoo Serious.

Perhaps not Australia’s brightest luminary, but he sure does leave an impression, doesn’t he?

So, What's the Hold Up?

2008-05-27T10:20:00.001-04:00

I have ideas about what I’d like my life to look like – not necessarily in terms of aesthetics, but in terms of how I would like to spend my time. Special K and I don’t watch much TV anymore since we don’t have cable, so we mostly just watch what we order on Netflix. I actually really like this because, as much as I miss some of the cool programs on the Travel Channel or the Food Network, it means that we get to see movies that I would otherwise be too lazy to see. So we’ve seen some great classic movies, foreign films, and documentaries, in addition to the fun popcorn movies like Transformers. But I seldom get around to reading anymore, which used to be the best part about my Metro-based commute. I’m trying to squeeze it in, but it’s harder.

I’d like to spend more time volunteering with the Rape Crisis Center, but I’ve been completely half-assed about it for a while now – it always seemed like there was some life transition or other that was taking over my ability to concentrate and devote that bit of extra time. Being briefly incapacitated by a back injury, getting married, having the summer from Hell with family health problems, money stress, and a jam-packed schedule, having said schedule continue well into the fall and winter, and now – starting a new job. I’ve taken shifts, but I don’t think I’ve been to supervision at the center for years, it feels like something is always happening. Right now the only thing I volunteer my time to is church, and while Special K and I do invest a good part of our time into supporting the church and church activities, I’d like to do more.

I’d like to take better care of myself, because I know I’m not doing a good enough job. Exercise is always the first thing to get chucked and it really should be the last, because it provides such huge mental and physical benefits. But it falls by the wayside in the face of deadlines, commitments, 2 – 3 hour commutes, and early appointments.

I used to be really good about remembering birthdays and other special days, and it feels like I haven’t been for a long time. I’m making more of an effort to be good about that again, and I’m also making an effort to be better about things like thank you notes and sending cards and stuff. I know I appreciate it when others are thoughtful, so that kind of seems like a good cue to attempt to be thoughtful myself.

But I just feel like I have no time to do all this. Which is ridiculous, because I have the same number of hours given to me in a day as everyone else. So when I get home and the pile of ironing is no smaller than it was yesterday, the kitchen needs to be cleaned, there’s more laundry to do, and I’ve neither read for pleasure, nor donated some time to a worthy cause, nor spent any time exercising, I just start to feel as though I’m a failure for not being able to live my life the way I want to live it. There is a part of me that says that I need to chill out; that I spent the majority of my 20s overextending myself because of a pathological need to stay busy and feel needed. But it just feels like other people are able to do all these things, so why can’t I? And furthermore, what on earth is going to happen when we have kids? I can only imagine the chaos will multiply.

Post-feminist guilt, perhaps? And I do it to myself – I know that Special K doesn’t expect me to do all this stuff by myself, because he sees us as having a partnership. I do, too – but I still have this weird feeling like I should be able to do all those things and hold down my full-time, demanding job, because I see other people who can. But it actually turns out that most of those people have a maid service or never cook or are in some other way human. So maybe no one can really do all of it; not for a sustained period of time, anyway.

Ah…the things I never thought I’d care about.

Frick

2008-05-22T11:53:00.000-04:00

An old button, hanging on by a literal thread, gave up the ghost today.

The good news? I have the button and I can easily sew it back on when I get home tonight.

The bad news? It’s smack-dab in the middle of my shirt, and I’m not actually home at present to sew it back on. Nor am I aware of the location of any safety pins.

I suppose it’s fortunate that my meeting for today was rescheduled for tomorrow, no?

And the Kitchen Sink...

2008-05-15T09:30:00.002-04:00

In the last week or so, Special K and I have seen some car trouble, fortunately none if it has been ours. Last Friday night, we were driving home from the W’s house and we saw a guy stopped at an intersection with his flashers on. K pulled over and asked if he needed help, which he did. He had a badly shredded flat and was trying to put the spare on his car, but was having trouble with the jack. Special K turned on our hazard lights and hopped out to help him – at one o’clock in the morning. This is one of many things I love about my husband – he’s truly a good person.

They were struggling with getting the tire off because it was screwed on quite tightly, when a gentleman in a large pickup truck pulled up, leaned out to see if they needed help, and pulled his truck up onto the curb, blinkers flashing, and hopped out to help. At one o’clock in the morning.

So really, as much as I tend to think that sometimes people really suck, I do often see examples of people who really don’t. The guy was a mechanic and had a few tools in the back of his truck, and they eventually wrestled the flat off – and the tire had truly been shredded, there was barely any rubber left on the shiny, silver wheel. With his spare in place, we all set off on our way home, and I sleepily reclined in my seat, telling Special K how awesome I think he is.

The next morning, we were heading into work, and I heard a weird “wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh” noise. I looked over and the guy next to us clearly had a flat tire, that got worse and worse as he drove. I couldn’t understand how he could neither hear nor feel that he had a flat, because the couple times that I’ve had them, it’s been really, really obvious. Nonetheless, I asked K to see if he could pull up next to him so I could tell him, but the guy and his Sebring convertible were zipping through Georgetown traffic quite rapidly. We did eventually catch him and as soon as I rolled down my window, it was quite clear why he couldn’t hear the tire. I could barely hear myself think over the Love Boat-style music blasting from his car. So I alerted him to the tire, to which he said “yeah, I had a feeling that might have been the case” (???) and he rolled a couple more blocks down the street to a gas station (which, hopefully for him, had some repair facilities, or his situation would not have improved substantially).

Then K proceeded to crack up at the music with which we had been serenaded – it was very “light FM”. I’m surprised he didn’t have a popped collar.

However, as I said, none of these vehicular maladies have happened to us, so I count myself quite fortunate on that count.

This past weekend, I spent part of the day filming part of a new video series for church, so that’s fun. I have wondered aloud recently why people seem to turn to me when they want someone to portray a sarcastic and bitchy character, since the person I’m playing in this series has…some issues. I mean, I know that sarcasm is my native language, but I’m really not a huge bitch. Not without being provoked, anyway. In fact, after a much older video series a few years back in which I was, once again, playing a…er….spirited character, someone who doesn’t know me very well said “so, is that what you’re really like or something?”

My answer of “no” would have, unfortunately, been hard to believe had I said the rest of what I would have liked to say in response. So I just looked at her quizzically, figuring that it was, perhaps, best to move on.

So yesterday was my birthday, although it felt like it kind of started Tuesday night, since Special K was so excited about the gift he got me that his repeated inquiries of “so…do you want your present?” eventually led to me opening my gift Tuesday night. (Usually I’m fine waiting until the actual event.) And lo and behold, my truly freaking awesome husband got me a generous gift certificate to my favorite spa.

Less than 12 hours later, I had booked my appointments. And I only waited that long because they were closed by the time I got my gift. I’ve been feeling a little frumpy and run-down lately, so this was the perfect gift. I also went to the MAC store in Tysons’s yesterday and treated myself to a couple of pretty things. It was capped off with dinner at the C’s, where I promptly fell asleep after dessert.

I am really not pregnant, although I’m kind of starting to look like it (I call it “the fat baby” – I will be hitting the gym again, starting today). I am just tired all the time. And now, through a wonder of genetics, I am waking up on my own somewhere between 5 and 6 am, just like my parents. Although I think they actually get up earlier. I’ve always been an early riser, relatively speaking. It’s always been unusual for me to sleep past 8 unless I actively go back to sleep, or unless I’m truly exhausted. But this 5:30 am stuff really blows, especially since I haven’t been getting to bed any earlier.

But back to the evening.

Well, I suppose there’s not much more to tell, but it was a lovely evening, with good friends, good food (mmm….steak), good wine, and there’s really not much that sucks about any of that.

And now I’m 32.

So…that happened.

I'm Not Always Lucky

2008-05-02T09:35:00.002-04:00

The last few mornings, I’ve woken up looking alarmingly like this:

This is not a good look for me. Nor is it particularly professional.

It has required some intervention, in the form of two to three different kinds of hair brushes, a high-powered hair dryer, and a couple styling products. I have emerged victorious in the end, fortunately.

Happy happy...

2008-05-01T06:32:00.003-04:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Special K!

I love you!

(All others, I apologize if this made you throw up in your mouth a little...)

Fantastic

2008-04-29T13:20:00.006-04:00

We just finished a great weekend, with Keith’s cousin, Lil’ D, and his wife, K, who came to visit. They arrived late Thursday night, and Special K took Friday off to hang out with them. Since I’ve started a new job and have no vacation time, plus I had a meeting planned for that day, I couldn’t play hooky with them, sadly, but they had a fun day at the Spy Museum, and then we met up for drinks and snacks before heading to our first Nats game at the new park!

Getting there was really, really easy (three cheers for Metro!), and as we made our way up to Section 302, we commented that there really weren’t any bad seats in the park, an assertion that was helped by the enormous flat screen on which the game was being simultaneously projected so that those of us at a higher altitude could see all the action. As we were heading up to our seats, the Nats scored a 2-run homer, and Special K was so excited that he started to cheer and wave his arms.

Unfortunately, in his excitement, he caught my chin and basically punched me in the jaw. He felt bad, and I tersely told him that touching me at that time would be a really, really bad idea. But then it was really obvious just how bad he felt (because my husband wouldn’t hurt a fly), and I couldn’t stay irritated. (Even though my chin still hurts.) Besides, he made it up to me by getting me a bratwurst and some beer after we settled into our seats. Mmm… Granted, there are many more diverse offerings to be had at Nationals Park, but we went with what was close, and were quite happy. However, we fully plan to explore the offerings of Ben’s Chili Bowl and Red, Hot, and Blue on future outings.

The game was great, close the whole time, with both teams alternating between brilliant plays, and total flubs. Near the end of the 8^th inning, I saw some people wandering around with ice cream, and that seemed like…well, like a really good idea. And going to the ballpark is all about the food, right? Oh – and the game, of course. Well, we went and waited in line to get a helmet sundae, mostly for the little helmet, but also for the ice cream. The line moved quickly, hurrah! But then, we discovered something bizarre – it was a Marlins helmet? Special K was filled with righteous indignation.

The Nats won the game in the bottom of the ninth inning, and then we stayed for the fireworks display that followed – which must annoy the snot out of the long-time residents of the area, who are undoubtedly to be pushed out soon, thanks to the wonders of gentrification. (Grr…don’t get me started.) We took our time heading into the Metro, since it was looking as though the line was looooong and the station was crowded. After the crowd dissipated, we headed in and made our way onto the waiting train. That continued to wait. And wait. Finally, when it was packed and a train had come and gone on the other side, the doors closed and we began to move.

That’s when we smelled it. Someone had let an SBD (silent but deadly) rip in the middle of a packed train with the doors closed. Serious breach of etiquette. Lil’ D looked accusingly at Special K, who said “Dude, it wasn’t me – you know I’d own up to it!”. Lil’ D then began to scan the crowd in our immediate vicinity, and saw the most likely culprit. A woman sitting next to where he was standing, looking neither disinterested nor appalled at the smell, as most of the people surrounding us did – she just looked so angelic and innocent. It had to be her. So he said “I can’t believe that someone beefed on the train!” He nodded his head in the offending direction and imitated the overly innocent look for us, as K and I almost collapsed with laughter.

Our stop to change trains came along shortly, and we got off, and were soon on our way home. It was a late evening, and after an attempt at staying awake and conversing, we all retired to bed.

The next morning dawned clear and warm, and Special K and I set about making breakfast.

One thing that’s a little odd about me – I love planning menus. Love it – and I will spend serious time doing it, getting it just right. So I’d had our breakfast menu picked out weeks ago – Swiss-baked eggs, bacon, lemon-scented biscuits with honey butter, and fruit salad. The lemon biscuits weren’t all that lemony thanks to a cantankerous lemon that didn’t want to be zested, but they were still tasty, the honey butter was good, and I was pleased with how everything turned out. After wallowing in the food coma for a bit, K and I were sitting on the couch talking, and there was a knock on the door.

It was another person from Omni Horizons. I told K that this would be a short conversation and went out to talk to him. He started talking, and I gently cut him off and I said “I’m familiar with your program, we had someone here from Omni Horizons last week. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience, and we do not need any more magazine subscriptions. Thank you for your time.” He then wanted to know who I talked to and tried to explain that he was a supervisor and that if I’d had a bad experience, he wanted to know who it was. I told him the name I remembered and he said that he knew him, but wanted me to write down what happened. (On the back of an order form – very official, no?) I said I didn’t want to get into anything, I appreciated that he had a difficult job to do, but I just wanted to go about my day at which point he told me to calm down.

Which pissed me off, where I had previously been perfectly calm.

K grew uncomfortable listening to this exchange, and went downstairs to get the guys and told them to come upstairs. When the guy at the door saw Special K in the background, he said “well, can I speak to your husband?” Which really pissed me off. The surest way to get on my bad side is to assume that I’m just a helpless lil’ woman who needs my husband to make all the decisions. So I looked at him and said “I don’t know why you’d need to speak with my husband, since I was the only one who spoke with your colleague.” He then said that he really wanted me to report the guy who came to the house, gave me a number to call, and left.

I came in, rolled my eyes at everyone, and said everything was fine. K and I left to head out to the grocery store as the boys played around with drums and did boy stuff. We came back and I started on the evening menu, as the guys left to run some of their own errands. We were doing my garlic-lime grilled chicken recipe, along with creamy corn with sugar snap peas and shallots, sweet potatoes with lime-cilantro dressing, and roasted tomatoes. For dessert, we had the thing I started making first – lemon-raspberry cake with lemon meringue buttercream frosting. Special K’s brother J came over and we all hung out the whole night, eating, talking, eating, watching movies, and eating. K and I went to bed a little earlier than the guys (who are all very close and can talk with each other for hours and hours), and they continued eating. Special K came to bed very, very late, and was up for church the next morning. Lil’ D had been planning to go with him in the morning, but when the morning dawned way too quickly, and he heard the gentle tap on the guest bedroom door…it didn’t happen.

I got up a little while after Special K left and made some mixed berry muffins for breakfast (we needed to use up the honey butter, after all), and K, Lil’ D, and I headed off to church to watch my amazingly talented husband play.

After church, we took them to a local institution, Roy’s Place, where the massive selection of sandwiches necessitated a long decision-making process. We took the edge off with a couple of orders of their fantastic onion rings, and eventually came to a decision.

The post-lunch time saw me enjoying one of my favorite and rarely indulged pastimes with K – we were sacked out on the couch, watching a movie, and for my part, indulging in a post-church, post-lunch nap. It was a gray and drizzly day, so it was perfect.

Eventually, Lil’ D and K had to make their way home, so we gave them some coffee, some left over cake (and there wasn’t nearly as much left over as one would have expected), and they set off, back up I-95.

*sigh*

Special K and Lil’ D have always been very close, and K and I completely hit it off the first time we met, and were chattering away the whole weekend. She’s great, and I’m so glad they’re both family!

After that, Dr. C had an early hockey game, so we headed out to freeze our butts off in the ice rink with Mrs. C. Now, if points were awarded on a per-penalty basis, Dr. C’s team would have kicked some serious ass. But unfortunately, that’s not how the score is determined, so it wasn’t their best game. However, we cheered loudly and had a great time, huddling for warmth on the sidelines. (Poor Special K didn’t bring a heavier coat – I figured he knew what he was doing since he’s rarely cold. Turns out he just forgot how cold the ice rink gets. Pobrecito.) It made for a later Sunday night than we had anticipated, but a good one nonetheless.

So Monday morning rolled around, cool and rainy, and getting out of bed felt like torture. But I take that as the sign of a good weekend.

Serendipity

2008-04-24T09:09:00.002-04:00

There are many things that I love about my short, sassy haircut. It’s easy - I can go from “hag who frightens children” to “fabulous” (or at least “hag who doesn’t frighten children”) in about 10 – 15 minutes, whereas with long hair, it can take considerably more time to be presentable. It’s entertaining – sometimes I wake up with the most awesome bed head. Sticking out at alarming angles, defying gravity, and looking as though it could provide inspiration for a medieval torture device. And this morning, it proved itself to be very creative. I sat up and looked at myself in the mirror, squinted a little, and my reflection slowly came into focus in the dim morning light.

My hair looked awesome. A little re-arranging of a couple errant pieces, and it was done.

Seriously – if I had tried to make it look this cool, I would have failed miserably. It’s funky, but not scary, it’s still somewhat smooth from having been straightened yesterday, but it’s got some wave to it. It just…oh, it looks so cool.

The sad part is that I can’t imagine I’ll be able to really re-create this on my own. I’m hopelessly unskilled. I felt a little weird about coming to work without having invested a little more time in my appearance, and I asked Special K to do a sanity check and tell me if it looked like bed head. Now, I tend to take his opinion of my appearance with a grain of salt, since he’s often too generous. And statements like “you would look hot in ____” (describing some absurdly tiny outfit) or “you could totally go braless in that” only serve to underscore my belief that we differ drastically on what is considered to be acceptable in terms of my appearance, much as I love him. But he, vaguely resembling a koala since he himself had just woken up, was the only game in town this morning, and he assured me that it looked good.

So for today, I am proudly rockin’ the world’s coolest bed head.

On The Road

2008-04-23T09:12:00.001-04:00

Every so often, as I’m sitting in some variety of hated traffic, I think back to my life in Long Island. Where I lived two miles from my job (well – my office job, my job at Crate and Barrel was a considerably longer drive, about 15 miles), and I lived in the middle of a town and could walk to anything from movie theaters to the grocery store to about 50 restaurants and bars to my hair salon. My drive to work took less than 10 minutes, and that’s if I hit all the red lights and had to wait for the cars heading into the daycare/nursery school I used to refer to as SUV Heaven, since it was on the road to my job. My apartment building was kind of like a DMZ, but I didn’t care because at the age of 22, I had my own place, a great car that ran beautifully (despite a couple of accidents in its early life), and a real job that didn’t involve wearing any kind of a uniform. (Although it did need to be supplemented with retail work for which an apron was required.)

*sigh*

I would roll into work at about 9:20 on most days because I was most likely out at some bar or club with friends the night before and hadn’t gotten to sleep until 2 am, on a good night. If I left any earlier than 1, no matter what night of the week, I was on the receiving end of a liberal dose of crap because I was leaving “soooo early”. That was back in the days when I didn’t leave the house to go out before 10:30 pm. When I thought that body glitter was “fun” and would draw focus to key areas. When my biggest concern about accidentally dyeing my hair Circus Freak Burgundy had nothing to do with looking unprofessional. Now, by the time 10:30 rolls around, I’m often as not sacked out on the couch, on the verge of falling asleep, if not already in deep REM stages. I think my last tube of body glitter bit the dust when I hit 25. And fortunately I haven’t turned up anywhere with burgundy hair in many, many years.

Now, I actually like getting to work early. And if I do happen to roll up at 9:20, it’s because of traffic or a delay on Metro or something like that. I feel so….grown up sometimes, it’s weird.

About 99% of the time, or even 99.9%, it’s really fine. I’m glad that I did my crazy club/bar time in my early 20s, I am glad that I don’t feel like I ever missed out on anything, and every so often I have a vague nostalgia for it and would like to go out to dance with my girls at a club where the music is too loud and the drinks are too expensive. Although, I don’t think many of my girls (if I can even really use that term anymore) feel that same nostalgia, and I know it’s definitely not K’s scene, so it is very rarely indulged. I’m glad that I took the better part of a year to travel around the world on my own, which was scary and hard and one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. When I look back over my almost-32 years on this planet, there’s not much I would change. I think my life has gotten better as I’ve gotten older, and I try to really embrace whatever stage of life I happen to find myself in – even if I don’t succeed all the time.

But dammit, I really wish I could have that commute again.

Peace

2008-04-22T09:46:00.000-04:00

It was another fantastic weekend out at the farm, with good food, good wine, and a lot of much-anticipated relaxation. Unfortunately, the whole gang wasn’t quite there as S’s business is keeping him very busy, and P didn’t feel right leaving him at home alone while she came to live it up with the rest of us. So…next time, yes? And all things considered, I’m really happy for him that the business is going so well, even when it does interfere with fun plans.

Some sad news at the farm was that one of their goats had to be put down on Friday, and it was a really rough experience for all involved, so they were definitely in need of some laughter and company – which Special K and I endeavored to provide. I think that’s got to be one of the hardest things about having a farm – as K said, living off the land is setting yourself up for one heartbreak after another, whether it’s saying goodbye to beloved animals or watching some disease hit your crops. Now, I still could easily see Special K and I having a small property like that one day, where we grew as much of our own food as we could and had some animals, like chickens to produce eggs and such, but it’s a lot of hard work, and a lot of commitment. I’m torn between whether or not I’d like to raise kids out in a rural area – on one hand, I think they’d develop an appreciation for the earth, for knowing that our food comes from it, and knowing how important it is to really care for it, since we’re not going to get another one. On the other hand, I’d like them to have a greater diversity of after-school activities and rites of passage than mailbox baseball and cow-tipping.

So, it’s a quandary.

I think my knee-jerk definition of what I’d like to own when we’re ready and able (and who knows when that will be), is actually quite similar to what we have, but a lot closer to our jobs and with a bigger back yard. I’d even be fine with keeping the size yard we have, really, but the proximity to our jobs is just bothering me tremendously. I’m having a really hard time sitting in a car for so long; I just can’t get over the financial and environmental implications of it. I love older, inner suburbs that are more accessible, where you’re not forced to rely on a car for everything. I like houses that don’t all look the same. I like old trees and sidewalks, and I think there are still a number of years of city girl left in me, when I really sit down and think about it.

We don’t want to move any time soon, so we hope that our landlords don’t want us to move any time soon, either. But we’ll have to look pretty carefully at both sides of the river once we do decide that we’re ready to buy.

But back to our weekend. Well, there really wasn’t all that much more to it – which was the best part in a lot of ways. I managed to fall asleep at almost every opportunity (I do this a lot lately. My body is getting greedy about sleep, methinks. And yet, I still feel tired all the time. And I’m not pregnant. So I really don’t know what that’s about.), but we still all had a great time together. Dinner was fantastic, as it always is, and we spent the evening sitting out on their porch, listening to music, and talking about life – which is actually about the time I dozed off, although I do remember being woken up for pie.

Mmmm….pie.

Brunch the next morning was delicious, and then since it was raining really hard, our walking plans were scrapped in favor of sitting around and doing nothing, which felt like quite the luxury for all of us. First, we watched Galaxy Quest, and underrated gem of a movie, and then we watched a good chunk of the HBO miniseries John Adams, which Special K and I want to Netflix (funny how that’s now a verb…sort of) as soon as it’s available since we had to leave before it was over.

(And I fell asleep again.)

Overall, it was a renewing weekend, and one that lived up to all the anticipation, as they always do.

Scam-o-rama

2008-04-18T14:10:00.000-04:00

There I was, happily curled up on my couch with a copy of Real Simple, windows open to let the warm, fresh air into the house, enjoying my afternoon.

Then I heard a sharp knock at the door, and grudgingly got up to see who it was. I opened the door and a man thrust an ID badge in my face, and started talking about how they’re supposed to show ID, it’s company policy. He then introduced himself, said that his daughter was taken away from him by child protective services two years ago, and while he was grateful for the opportunity he had now that was helping him to work toward getting her back, he really wanted to start his own landscaping company when he got back on his feet. And that he wasn’t there for donations – you can tell if someone is honest by offering them money, if they take it you know they’re not honest and close the door, if they don’t take it, then you know they’re honest and you can trust them. He never thought people who lived like this could care about someone like him, but that’s because he’d never bothered to come out here. (Because we live in such luxury? Maybe he didn’t see the 11-year old Hyundai parked in front of the house we rent. I mean, I love my car, but it doesn’t scream “wealth”.)

He said all of this without me having the slightest clue as to why he was standing on my front porch.

Turns out he’s part of a “job training program” with a group called Omni Horizons. The more he talked about how he needed to accumulate points, and how they “recruited” people though, the less it sounded like a job training program, and the more it sounded like a company that wants warm bodies to do door-to-door sales – and that’s the only job they train you for, nothing about building marketable skills. Now, door-to-door sales is difficult, and I don’t mean to knock it, but calling it a “job training program” doesn’t exactly give the same impression. He was selling magazine subscriptions, which made me think of that scene from Office Space. I said we didn’t need any more, he said they could renew our existing subscriptions for us. Although his manner and non-stop, hard-sell dialog was making me feel like this wasn’t all above-board, I listened to him, looked at the list of magazines they sold subscriptions for, and tried to be nice. (Special K, listening to all this inside, was about to yell “WOMAN!!! GET IN HERE AND MAKE ME MY DAMN DINNER!!!” just to get me off the porch. And make himself laugh.)

I told him that I appreciated his time, but that I’d never heard of his organization and I wanted to check it out before giving away any personal information, despite his copious claims to honesty and the excellent reputation this company has for helping those who are down on their luck. He said “do you have a computer?” and I said (foolishly) “yes”. He replied “well, it’ll take you less than five minutes to go to the website I gave you and look it up to verify what I’m saying. I’ll wait.” to which I said “well, I’d like more time than that. Can you come back later?”

His easy and eager smile vanished, and he said “Later? Like when?” and I said “Um…next week?” (what with it being a Friday and me assuming that he wouldn’t work weekends) to which he glowered “oh, I see how it is”, turned on his heel and left.

I came inside, and K and I looked this place up, first the website he had given me, which gave the same schpeal he’d told me and listed him as the #1 ranked national sales person – so I guess his story is very convincing to a lot of people. Then I Googled the company and got a very different, and creepy, picture.

Kind of makes me long for the refreshing honesty that Mrs. C encountered when one such person came to her door selling something similar. She asked him what he was working toward and he said “I’m saving up for a trip to Las Vegas so I can go drink and get laid.”

Whirlwind, part deux

2008-04-17T20:53:00.008-04:00

I didn’t get everything done at my old job that I wanted to get done. I got the major things done, but not everything. I’m trying to be a good kid and follow up so that no one is left scratching their heads and cursing my name. They gave me a lovely send-off, complete with cake and a kick-butt happy hour complete with both hijinks and shenanigans. And shots. I’m 31 – I haven’t done shots of anything in a long, long time. So I felt WAY better the next morning than I deserved to, after having about 4 shots of questionable content, in addition to 2 beers.

That Sunday we went downtown with the Cs after church, and Mrs. C and I decided to wander around the Botanical Gardens, while the boys looked at manly things in the Air and Space Museum. Which I used to think, when I was very little, was named for Aaron Space. But I didn’t really think much about who he was or why he had his own museum. I wasn’t a smart little kid in a lot of ways, methinks.

As Mrs. C and I strolled around the gardens (beautiful and worth seeing, BTW), we were looking at their special displays (orchids) and going through different rooms, including a canopy tour of sorts in the jungle area/room. (Saying “jungle room” makes it sound like a theme room from a seedy motel. There’s one near Madison that I’ve heard of, actually – I just can’t remember the name.) As we walked through, we were passed by a row of young ladies who looked like Mary Kay sales reps, circa 1956. All dressed in pink suits, but wearing sashes across their bodies. One said “Iowa”, another said “Massachusetts”, and a third one said “Embassy of Denmark”.

Um…that last one was the head-scratcher. One of these things is not like the other…

We came to find that they were the finalists in the Miss Cherry Blossom contest, something we found out through listening to a girl who loved her sunless tanner and was chatting with some people asking her what the sash and the pink suit were all about.

After winding our way through the gardens, we headed over to the Air and Space Museum to meet up with the guys. Dr. C had been watching Special K in his element – as someone who has lived and worked around aircraft of one kind or another for his entire life, his knowledge certainly exceeds that of your average museum-goers. After we met up, he took me over to show me some things that related to his recent work, and then since I had mentioned wanting to see an IMAX movie, everyone indulged me and we ended up seeing one about the building of the international space station in 3-D!!!

It was pretty cool. Narrated by Tom Cruise, and he didn’t talk about brainwashed alien souls not even once. I’m such a science geek, though, and I totally dug it, occasionally forgetting that we were watching a 3-D movie, since I flinched a few times as debris from a shuttle launch hurtled toward the screen. Please see above about me not being that bright.

On a whim, we decided to stop by the FDR memorial, which I had never been to. The weather was kind of crappy that day, so our original plan of seeing cherry blossoms had morphed into our day indoors. Well, it wasn’t raining and the tidal basin was uncharacteristically quiet for this time of year, so we decided that it would be a good way to cap off the day. It’s a beautiful and moving memorial, with quotes of his on the walls throughout. It can be easy to forget all the things he presided over as president, but when looking at it all at once, and reading some of the grace and eloquence with which he described the national troubles, it makes you really think about what true leadership should look like.

My week off was really good – not quite as productive as I would have liked, but still really good. The house is actually presentable now, the pile of laundry on the folding table by the washer and dryer downstairs, which I refer to as “laundry purgatory” is gone, and despite something (likely deer) eating some of my flowers, the majority of the plants we’ve planted seem to be doing quite well, which makes me happy.

The week was capped off my a birthday dinner for my parents and my aunt (all April babies – April is a busy, busy month in our family), and a LAZY Sunday with the Cs. I think at one point, all four of us were asleep in our living room. We finally woke up, rallied, ordered pizza, and played some Ticket to Ride, wherein Dr. C totally kicked all our butts.

Monday morning dawned cool and clear, and I set out in my car for Herdon to attend orientation and training. Getting there wasn’t quite as hideous as I thought it would be, but I remain very grateful that I don’t have to go there every day. VERY GRATEFUL. Orientation was long and thorough, and I was seated with an alumnus of Special K’s alma mater – they’re easy to spot once you know what that class ring looks like. His was a bit older than K’s, but I could still spot it a mile away.

After training was…well, it was a little deflating. My new boss had just gotten back from vacation and was pretty busy, so…I was introduced to virtually no one, and shown virtually nothing in the way of “here’s the kitchen, here’s the bathroom, here’s the printer”. And then I was shown to my shared office, plonked down at an empty desk with my computer and told “you know how to set this all up, right?”

*sigh*

On top of that, it appears that my new boss is something of an introvert. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not what I relate to most easily. So, a little disquieting at first. As is the uber-corporate America dress code. I have seen some more individuality among certain people, but there’s a lot of navy and black around here. I mean, I knew it would be more formal business attire, and that, too, is really fine. Clearly it’s their prerogative, and they place a high value on a professional appearance – I’m down with that. But I’ll also be busting out my red suit as soon as I can fit into it again, and I may look like something of a circus freak because of it. C’est la vie. So generally I was feeling pretty lousy Monday. Fortunately on my way out, I ran into someone with whom I had interviewed, who I liked a lot. We chatted briefly, which was nice.

And now, with a few days under my belt, I no longer want to go home and never come back, but I’m still getting my bearings and trying to think of ways to make my commute a little less unbearable. I knew it wouldn’t be great, but that much time in a car every day is not for me. And I do miss the city. I know K and I live in the ‘burbs too, but we live in the inner burbs – I can walk to the downtown area, including the Metro station. I love that. Here…well, if I walk anywhere farther than the mall across the street, I’m likely to get mowed down by a soccer mom driving a ginormous SUV. And even just going to the mall, my safe passage is not a guarantee. So, all things I need to work out. My boss has also made a point several times over the last couple days of asking me if I need anything, offering to answer any questions I may have, etc. He’s also introduced me to a lot more people, we’ve had some meetings, and I’m discovering how small the world of consulting really is since I’m working with people who have known former colleagues or clients of mine for years – it makes things seem more familiar, though.

So, things will work out – the place where I’m working now values their employees, has great benefits, and is giving me a nice raise. I actually know ways in which I can contribute to what I’m supposed to be doing around here, and I’m finding a lot of different projects that I can contribute to with my team and with others – I actually feel like some of the skills that I’ve worked to acquire over the last few years are going to be both useful and in demand. Honestly, I’m not quite used to that feeling, and it’s kind of nice. So really, all of these things count, both to me as an individual and to us as a family – you just don’t necessarily notice them all on the first day. So I am still lucky to have this new opportunity, and I do know that. It wasn’t love at first sight, but it’s growing on me.

It's the Final Countdown

2008-04-03T22:01:00.001-04:00

I’m so sad that I can’t make that song play when someone (all five of you) comes to open up my blog. Mostly because that song always makes me laugh with its overwhelming cheesiness. Ah…the good times.

The big last day is tomorrow. I know that, despite my best efforts, I will be working up to the last minute and will probably be fielding phone calls from colleagues in the coming weeks about loose ends that I think I’ve tied up. I think that’s just the way it happens. I know I’m going to be working pretty late tonight, which is not likely to evoke the feelings of nostalgia that it might otherwise do. But the thing is that I really do like my co-workers, and I really don’t want to leave anyone in a lurch. So I really want to finish the things that I know I need to finish so that no one comes in to work on Monday morning, the first day of my five days of voluntary unemployment, and says “okay – now how the f*$@ do we figure out how to finish/fix this?” This is partially selfish, because I don’t want people to be calling me when I’m taking some time off, and partially because I respect the people who would be saying that, theoretically.

But really, I want to go home and curl up on the sofa next to Special K. Maybe have a nice glass of red wine, and slowly drift off to sleep.

Instead, I’ll be here, working on a report about hexavalent chromium. And completing my last progress reports.

Because that’s the same.

One Week

2008-03-31T09:33:00.001-04:00

It’s very surreal – but I have one week left. Just one. Five more days. I’ve started to clean out my office a little, which feels very strange. Actually, all of this feels strange – as if it’s just something I’ve imagined, that won’t really happen.

But it will. Friday, I will be writing memos and trying to get things into the hands of others, signed, sealed, and delivered. I will be going to a happy hour that night with my friends from my office that I’ve made over the years, and then…well, I know there are some people with whom I’ll keep in touch, because there are some people here with whom I’m friends outside of work – people that we’ve had to our house, who came to our wedding. But realistically speaking, there are probably a lot of people that I won’t really see again, except through coincidence. That’s how life goes, as you move through the phases of it.

Special K and I had a good weekend, both relaxing and productive. In a moment of weakness, we went to Home Depot’s garden center on Saturday, which was way too much fun. We then went to cook and have dinner with my parents and some family friends – the theme of the night was Indian food, so we had chicken tikka masala, northern Indian lamb curry, bengain bartha (spicy braised eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes), and rice pudding with cardamom, dried cherries, and dried currants. It was a gooooood night, especially because we started out with Indian-style bread stuffed with either potatoes or cauliflower, both spicy and flavorful. K left a little early because he and his brother were going to go see POD downtown. Well, unfortunately they got there to find that the show was sold out. Even more unfortunately, the battery on my phone died when K tried to call me to tell me this.

Whoops.

Fortunately, J and his girlfriend drove K home. One small problem there being that I had both sets of keys, since we had taken his car.

Double whoops.

I went to check my phone when I hadn’t heard from him around about the time that the show should have let out. Then I realized that it was dead, and called his cell. When he picked up and I didn’t hear and club noise in the background, I knew that there had been a problem. And by the way, it was 11:30 by this time.

I left, rather unceremoniously (but not too quickly to take some leftovers with me), and sped off for home. I arrived, and my seemingly endlessly patient and good-natured husband was there, as were J and A (who thankfully had nowhere else to be and waited with K), and everyone came in and we sat around for a bit, chatting.

Yesterday morning we were both working at church, so it was an early morning. We came home in the afternoon, and I set about gardening. I’ve got to figure out what to do about those freaking raccoons that were my undoing last year – but for now there’s nothing on the plants that should tempt them, like tomatoes, so I have a little more time to figure this out. Some of my herbs managed to survive the winter and are either fine (thyme), or looking as though they may be resuscitated without too much pain and effort (oregano, marjoram, rosemary, mint). I have a sage plant that I’ve been rehabbing in the kitchen that I’ll bring outside when it’s a bit warmer, and basil – well, basil is a wimpy plant, so I’ll be planting basil and cilantro last. But we also planted tomatoes again, some strawberry plants, marigolds, which are good for bees (I’m actually not allergic to honey bees, it’s wasps, hornets, and yellow jackets – besides, bees are dying out and are hugely important, so I’m all for creating some habitat in my backyard so they can continue to pollinate), some other pretty perennials, and a crapload of pansies. I don’t think it really occurred to me that when we bought a flat of pansies (only $6.99!) that we were buying forty plants. So after four large bags of potting soil and using every container we found in the potting shed, in addition to the couple that we had purchased, we managed to find a home for every plant we had brought home, all but one – a sad little plant that hadn’t wanted to come out of the flat, so I managed to rip off more than half of its roots by accident. K did his impression of a dying pansy (which is apparently somewhat akin to a fish that has been pulled out of water), and then I felt terrible. And then he laughed at me. Punk.

In the meantime, K had been cleaning out our back porch (long overdue) and tidying up the yard (also long overdue), so by the time we both were done with our day at 9 pm last night, we actually had a lot to show for it. There was a huge sense of accomplishment that came with all of that, actually – we’ve got a few containers in front of the house with pretty things, we’ve got pretty things in the backyard, we’ve got things that we’ll be able to use in the kitchen that are on the way, and I’ve learned from some of my mistakes of last year. I think K wants to try his hand at growing hot peppers this summer, so that will also be fun. Now let’s hope that we’re really past the danger of frost, or I will be very, very sad.

We’re both big geeks. But I’m the bigger one, because I’m not a bad-ass drummer.

Middle Name Game...

2008-03-27T14:44:00.002-04:00

I've been tagged by Deb, so here's an acrostic poem of sorts about me:

Here are the rules:

1. You have to post the rules before you give your answers.

2. You must list one fact about yourself beginning with each letter of your middle name. (If you don't have a middle name, use your maiden name or your mother's maiden name).

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to tag one person (or blogger of another species) for each letter of your middle name. (Be sure to leave them a comment telling them they've been tagged.)

L – I think I’m going to have to make myself throw up a little in my mouth by saying that I’m loving. I don’t know if I always do a good job of it, but I do try to make it a priority to let my friends and family know that I love them and appreciate them. I’ve had times where I’ve had no friends, and going without really makes you appreciate what you have. My friends are great, my family is awesome, and my husband is the best man I know. So hopefully all those people already know that I feel that way.

E – I love to entertain. I love having people over to celebrate anything – birthdays, the fact that it’s Saturday, the fact that we’ve have great friends and family – you name it. This isn’t always without stress, as I tend to start planning menus as soon as we’ve decided to have the gathering in question, and due to some poor time management in our house (on both our parts), there is usually quite a bit of scrambling at the end to make sure that the house is clean and I’ve had a chance to bathe. We’re working on this part. But while I do love my alone time more as I get older, I still love having people over and it always gives me a chance to reflect on just how lucky we are.

I – I can be very impatient. Not necessarily in that “gimme my Christmas presents!” kind of way, but more in that “there’s a problem to be solved, therefore I must fix it now, and won’t be able to move on until I feel that there is a plan in place that will lead us closer to a solution.” This drives K nuts, because he will usually tire of addressing said problem, or at least tire of talking about said problem, long before I will. I also drive everywhere like I’m in a hurry. Ev. Ry. Where.

G – I am a huge geek. Always have been, always will be. It’s fortunate that I’ve learned, in my adult years, to pass it off with panache. Interestingly enough, not caring that you’re a geek kind of makes you cool to some people. Likely just fellow geeks, but it’s all good.

H – I’ve become much more of a homebody as life has progressed. I still have a yearning to travel and see the world and have adventures and experiences for as long as I can, but I actually really value feeling rooted somewhere, and with someone. It’s unexpectedly nice and comforting.

So, just for giggles, I'm going to tag Stef, Jeff (oooh...that rhymed), Amy, Keith, and Marsha.

(But I won't be offended if you don't do it....)

Fever

2008-03-26T09:37:00.000-04:00

As much as I’d like to work in a “More Cowbell!” reference, I really can’t think of a good one.

*sigh*

But I have the worst case of Spring Fever. Evah. Maybe it’s because spring is a time of year that symbolizes so much change, and I know I’ve got changes of my own coming up. It might also have something to do with the fact that I have a window in my current shared office (not likely to have a window in my next one), and I can see that it’s nice and sunny outside. The fact that it’s not exactly what you would call “warm” doesn’t really affect me right now, because it looks warm, and that’s enough to put me into full-on “oh,-look!-A-shiny-object!” mode.

I’ve also been getting that itch to travel again, which is perhaps unfortunate, because I don’t think that the stars are going to align for Special K and me the way they did last year, where we got to take two trips to Europe inside of seven months. I find travel to be so energizing and invigorating. It’s like a drug – the more I travel and see new places, the more I want to travel and see more new places. Clearly, I have bounds and limits on that feeling, which is why I’m not still traveling for a living, but if I could have eked a more reasonable schedule out of my old position, instead of one that saw me in far-flung corners of the world for months and months at a time, I would still be doing it. So, I’m anxious to hit the road, but I know that it will be quite some time before I have the next stamp in my passport. I’m so very happy that Special K loves to travel; it’s something we want to do together, but we’re also trying to be responsible and think about our future and our goals – and that means that we can’t just decide to fly off to Greece for a week or something.

But WOW would that be cool!

We are planning on a big trip next year. A big, “let’s-do-this-before-we-try-to-have-kids-or-we’ll-never-do-it” kind of trip. The kind you don’t want to do with kids whose ages are still in single digits because it’s not fun for them and, therefore, it’s not fun for you. So we’re working toward jetting across the Pacific next year, and we’ll have to see how it goes.

But for all the going away that traveling entails, there’s something really great about being able to come back home. One of K’s best friends just got back home safely from his third tour in Iraq. After two in Afghanistan. So we are extremely grateful that he’s home safe and sound, and spending time with his wife and daughter, who he hasn’t seen in 15 months. Welcome home, Dave!

Countdown

2008-03-20T10:12:00.001-04:00

Well…I have twelve days left here. Twelve days to make sure that my projects are wrapped up and passed on in a responsible manner so that I’m not leaving anyone in a lurch. I’ve been here for 1,033 days (give or take a few), and now I have twelve left.

That’s just so weird.

I’ve been feeling a change coming on for a while now, and I do feel like this is a direction that makes sense for me (even though it means I have to commute to Virginia every day…bleah). I’m very contradictory in that I crave change on a regular basis, but it also makes me nervous. Maybe it’s that adrenaline rush that I identify as “nerves” that I crave – who knows? It’s debatable as to whether or not bungee jumping might be a simpler way to get that adrenaline rush than changing jobs. (Simpler? Yes – there are no tax forms to fill out, most likely just a simple liability waiver. Definitely in bungee jumping’s favor. Safer? Well – that’s definitely debatable. Lasting consequences? Could happen with either one, to be honest.) There are many people who have suggested that K and I look into moving to Virginia, since we’ll both be working there. As someone who was raised in Maryland, my knee-jerk response to that is hell, no. While I won’t rule it out 100% since the commute does increase our environmental footprint and expenses, which I don’t take lightly, I’d have to say that the odds are very, very slim that we’ll give that option serious consideration.

Unless, of course, our landlords decide to jack up our rent this year, in which case we really need to look at all of our options, I suppose.

I’m really excited to be taking a week off in between jobs, but knowing me I’ll probably schedule stuff for every day that week. Although, as long as I get to sleep in every day and go swimming a few times, I think I’m fine with that.

I think that I’m displaying one of many signs of getting a little older – I am really looking forward to warmer weather. Not so I can hit the beach with friends (although that could be fun), not so I can sit on the roof deck of Lauriol Plaza sipping margaritas (it’s overrated anyway), but I’m looking forward to warmer weather so I can get a garden started again.

*sigh*

The C’s have been talking to Special K and I about chucking all this big city (or big suburb) life and going to run a vineyard/B&B somewhere. I have to admit, there’s something very appealing about the thought of it, although I know I have an overly romanticized version of what it would be like in my head. (As does K, since he keeps talking about being the vineyard’s “quality control officer”. He also wants to brew beer and be the quality control officer for that. I’ve told him that he’s reaching.) But the one thing that I keep insisting on, although no one is arguing with me about it, so “insisting” may be a misleading term, is a large greenhouse and garden so that we can grow stuff to eat. And much as that would be a lot of fun, and would really play to Mrs. C’s and my strengths in many ways, I still want the garden and the greenhouse even if the B&B never materializes.

But as long as I can just keep those farking raccoons off my tomatoes this year, I’ll consider that to be progress.

And Finally...

2008-03-19T16:12:00.001-04:00

Well, I got my good news – a formal offer of employment! It’s a very good thing, and I think it will be a good move for me. I’m normally a very open person and I don’t have a “work” persona and a “life” persona – it’s all the same person – I attribute this partially to laziness and partially to…well, to laziness, too. So while I don’t run down the hallways of my office yelling “BOOBIES!”, I don’t usually have to spend a lot of time making sure I don’t say something, as I did when going through the interviewing and waiting process (which felt like an eternity). So it’s a relief to have everything finalized so that we can all be on the same page around here – I like and respect my co-workers, so I’m glad that it’s all in the open now.

I actually had several interviews in rapid succession, it just turned out that this one came through the fastest (and in the grand scheme, probably has the best offer). It’s weird to be searching for something new when you’re not so much feeling like you’re unhappy at your current place, but more like it’s just not the right fit for you anymore. I’m ready for something different and I think it’s a good time in my life to try to do it, much as I will miss my co-workers. It will be hard to leave, in that sense. I’ve been here for a while, people know me, know my work, and in some ways it’s comfortable. But in other ways, I do know that it’s time to move on. Indulging that need for change, if you will.

This appears to be the second March in a row that has marked a big transition for me. K and I marked the occasion of our first wedding anniversary this past weekend with what turned into a long weekend-long extravaganza of sorts. Friday night my parents gave us a night at a swanky hotel as a gift, which we happily accepted and complemented with a very swanky dinner at Ceiba. Mmm…Ceiba – just a few blocks from our hotel, as it happens. I started our evening there with a somewhat ill-advised Lemon Drop – one of my “chick-tinis” of choice. It was tasty and refreshing, but a tad strong, which only became an issue after the bottle of wine we split for dinner.

Oh well.

Dinner was…oh. My. Goodness. We started by splitting a chili relleno stuffed with shredded duck and three cheeses, with tomatillo salsa and black bean and corn relish. I am normally not a fan of the chili relleno genre, but this wasn’t greasy or heavy, it was lightly fried. The shredded duck lightened up the cheese filling (odd, since duck is a very rich-tasting meat), and the lightness of the salsa and relish was…well, if we could have licked the plate, we probably would have. But we were trying to be classy.

For our entrees, we decided to go with seafood after asking our waiter for his recommendations, the majority of which were seafood dishes. Special K had the “yellowfin tuna and crab-stuffed aji amarillo with asparagus slaw, purple potatoes, and a sweet rocoto soy reduction” – whatever that is. If you were to ask me in my own words, I would have told you that it was a little spicy, the slaw was tangy, and overall it was really freaking good.

I had seared scallops "Ala Plancha", with fresh hearts of palm puree, citrus brown butter, capers, golden raisins. Also really freaking good, even though I don’t know what “ala plancha” means. To me, it means “yummy”. We then split a tres leches coconut cake for dessert that was served with skewered grilled pineapple and a very light coconut sorbet. The host was lovely, our waiter was awesome, and in general, it was a delightful experience, proving that my first experience there wasn’t a fluke. Hurrah for that!

This, in addition to the bottle of wine that we split with dinner, made for a very good, and very filling, evening. We waddled back to the hotel (well, I probably stumbled a time or two, since that chicktini and the wine caught up with me), changed into our swimsuits, and headed down to the pool for a little swimming and some relaxing in the whirlpool. We were greeted by some really pissed off-looking employees who informed us that the pool was closed because someone had had an “accident”, which immediately explained the pissed-offness. I wouldn’t have been happy to have to clean that up at 10 pm on a Friday, either. We decided to try again in the morning.

The next morning we lazed around, ordered some room service (mmm…frittata…grilled French toast…fruit cup), and went back down to the pool. The pool was still closed for cleaning (upon closer inspection, it appeared that they were in the process of draining it so that it could be thoroughly scrubbed out. Preferably with bleach.), but the whirlpool was open, so we spent a good bit of time there, wishing that we had one in our house.

We eventually dragged ourselves out of the whirlpool and back up to our room where we took our time getting cleaned up, watching some TV (and realizing that we’re not missing anything by not having cable, since there were only 2 things on that we wanted to watch, despite a generous selection of available channels), and getting ready to head out.

From there we went straight out to Haymarket to get a washer and dryer from K’s parents. “Quoi?” you may be thinking. Well, they just bought a home and are replacing the appliances. The ones that they’re replacing, however, are SO MUCH BETTER than the PsOS in our house that we gladly jumped at the chance to take them. GLADLY. Our old dryer had two heat settings, “fluff/air dry” and “scorch”. This new one has a few more options, which have made us, and our clothes happy. We didn’t anticipate this turning into an all-day event, but thanks to a non-functioning trailer that we attempted to rent (or rather, it was the brake lights and turn signals that didn’t function), we ended up putting one appliance each in his parents’ two SUVs and hauling them back to our place, then heading back out to their place to drop the vehicles back off, pick up my car, and finally head home around…11ish. But his parents, after being generous enough to give us these appliances in the first place (homeownership may be nowhere in sight, but we’ve got our own appliances!) also treated us to a very tasty dinner that night (luuuurve steak fajitas).

Sunday was the big day, the big first anniversary, and honestly – it was a little anti-climactic. Mostly because we had to be up at the crack of dawn to work at church that morning. It wasn’t a bad day, it just didn’t feel like it was all that special, which was actually fine, because Friday had more than compensated. We went to a friends’ party after church, which was also a lot of fun, and we ended up staying for games and dinner with the always gracious Ls. We hadn’t really planned on it, and really didn’t want to be those people who never freaking leave, but it was fun. We capped the night off with keeping Mrs. C company at Dr. C’s hockey game. We mostly huddled for warmth on the benches as we yelled “Go Wildcats!” every so often.

We had decided to take Monday off, because…well, because we wanted to. After we got up, we ended up puttering around the house, at which point I commented to K that I felt like we’d been eating for three straight days. He didn’t disagree. We ended up making a trip out to Lowe’s because the plug for the dryer in our house is…well, old. And new dryers don’t work with it, so we would either have to wire in a new plug for the dryer or install a new outlet. After some attempts at the former, we concluded that the latter was the better way to go. We also stopped at Whole Foods for some delicious steaks that we were going to grill up as a nice dinner for ourselves, using a recipe from the cookbook I got K for Christmas.

Dinner consisted of some perfectly medium-rare filet mignon topped with a little fresh goat cheese and an ancho chile-roasted red pepper salsa (made from scratch by one Special K) and a black bean, tomato, and quinoa salad with a lime-spiked dressing made by yours truly. It was all just…so freaking good. My husband is a genius.

Except for the part where he bought the wrong nuts for the dryer, so back out to Home Depot we went at 9 pm, in search of the correct pieces. (And really – I probably would have made the same mistake, so I don’t want to give him too much crap about it.) Finally, at around 10 pm, we heard the dulcet tones of our new dryer quietly rumbling away in the basement. Ah…

So…given that March 2007 saw me get married, and March 2008 saw me get a new job (and new appliances), any guesses as to what March 2009 will hold?

The mind reels.

(And the first person who says babies or pregnancy will get a stern talking-to. That’s not in the plans just yet.)

Cultural Perspective

2008-03-06T09:56:00.001-05:00

K and I watched a fascinating movie the other night called “The Lives of Others”, it’s a German film that won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in 2006. And holy crap was that a great movie. It’s about a Stasi (state police) officer in East Berlin in the 1980s who is conducting surveillance on a playwright and author, and his girlfriend, and how he becomes emotionally involved in their lives. I was telling a German guy that I work with about it, and he said that he’d seen the movie and thought it was excellent, and then kind of sadly said “yah…the Germans are very thorough about everything we decide to do. Sometimes this is a very bad thing…”, and then he mentioned the Holocaust, the actions of the Stasi, etc.. I thought that it was an understatement, perhaps attributable to a loss for words, perhaps attributable to English as his second language, but it made me think about the uneasy peace that most of us have to strike with our own country’s histories. Because the Germans weren’t the first, or sadly, the last, to perpetrate genocide – just ask the Native Americans. Or the Rwandans.

I can acknowledge that my country has done, and continues to do, some terrible things here and abroad. Things that I find to be unconscionable and profoundly disturbing. Does this mean that I’m ashamed of where I’m from? No…no, it doesn’t. Does it mean that I’m proud of our actions? No…doesn’t always mean that, either. It means that I disagree with actions taken by my government, presumably on my behalf (in that larger, I-am-part-of-the-American-public sense), and that I want I want that to change, although I often haven’t the slightest clue as to where to start. But why do I bother to talk about it or think enough to disagree with it in the first place? It’s because I care about my country and I think we can do better. It’s for this exact reason that I hope for better - because I know we’re capable of it. If I didn’t care about my country and where I’m from, presumably I wouldn’t care what my government did. But then I also probably wouldn’t call it “my government”, either. There’s been a notion in recent years that disagreeing with the government is considered unpatriotic – that it’s something undertaken by people wanting to undermine America. I think that’s an insult to thinking people, and that if you do care about your country, you have a moral and ethical obligation to speak up when you see it doing something that you feel is wrong. Because squelching dissent and smothering people’s ability to express themselves is something that this country has always supposed to have been against. It’s what separates our country from what we claim to strive against.

In any event, it was a highly thought-provoking movie, and one that I would strongly recommend. A fascinating and humanizing look at life in East Berlin in 1985, and well worth the 2 hours.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!!!

2008-03-05T10:05:00.000-05:00

So. Flippin. Impatient.

I have some potentially very good news, but I’m hesitant to get too into it, because I don’t have anything official yet. But there could be some exciting transitions coming up for me – yay!!! K has also started a new assignment, which will be a cool opportunity for him to learn new stuff and meet new folks. I’m really happy for him that his last assignment was also a good opportunity for him to grow and it seems like the path he’s been on since the summer has been a good one. As for me…well, I’m working on it!

We realized at the end of last weekend that if we all made it to our every-other-week small group for church this past Monday, we would have spent four nights in a row hanging out with the C’s. Which we did. So Tuesday night rolled around, and part of me thought “hey…where did they go?”

The answer was clearly “home to play Guitar Hero III”. We were introduced to this game by them this past week, and although I generally loathe video games in all forms, I have to admit, it was pretty fun. Mrs. C has been practicing and is a formidable opponent; Dr. C actually plays the guitar and is very musically gifted (as evidenced by his kick-butt take on Jimmy Hendrix’s rendition of the Star Spangled Banner in church yesterday); K dabbles in guitar and is also very musically gifted as a drummer; then you have me – I know what kind of music I like, and I like to think that I can carry a tune (debatable – but I sound amazing in my car). But to actually play an instrument is completely beyond my skill set – I “played” the flute in fourth grade, but never learned to read music. And I didn’t want to practice. Probably because I never learned to read music. So basically, I spent a year playing at playing the flute. And then my band teacher busted me one day, and shortly thereafter, I abandoned my career as a flutist. Fortunately, my parents had only rented my instrument for the year instead of dumping cash into what turned out to be a truly pointless endeavor.

I didn’t suck horribly at Guitar Hero, which was a pleasant surprise to me! But I can follow a song if someone tells me what color button to push at what time – this doesn’t mean that I have any undiscovered musical gifts. (Maybe...)

K’s new assignment has him getting to work even earlier than before, so I rolled up into my office around 7:30 this morning. This is when a lot of people I work with are just getting up. Needless to say, it’s pretty quiet at that hour. I’d like to say that I used it effectively to be a whirlwind of productivity, but I don’t – I catch up on e-mail and Scrabulous for a little while. I mean, yes, I do work – I still have a job to do after all. But when it’s 7:30 in the morning and I’ve been up for a couple hours already, my brain does protest a little. K and I have both noticed that basically every time we sit down these days, one or both of us falls asleep. I think this may be a sign of sleep deprivation but hey – I’m no doctor.

However, we did manage to stay awake for an entire movie last night - very impressive, since I’d been trying to watch the SAME episode of “Simon and Simon” (they had a tie-in with Magnum, P.I. at one point, apparently) and fell asleep three times before making it through. So this is progress, yes?

Isn't It Romantic?

2008-02-14T10:10:00.001-05:00

[Pulls old pad of paper out of slightly messy cabinet, in the process of being organized]

“Honey, what’s this?”

“Um…nothing….”

“It looks like you were writing a poem or a song about luuuuurve…”

“J wrote that”

“But it doesn’t look like his handwriting…it looks like your handwriting…”

*sigh*

“Can I help it if I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Dream Lady? I needed an outlet…”

Disposable

2008-02-08T10:19:00.000-05:00

Many thanks to Jeff for sending me this article, it's very interesting, and should be very alarming. I try not to get up on my little high horse all that often, mostly because people find it irritating. Just ask Special K, who gets to hear the unfiltered version. But here's something that drives me nuts. What is our fixation with disposable stuff? Yes, some things shouldn't be re-used (syringes and some other medical equipment), but the damage being done to our natural environment should really be greater than someone's aversion to doing dishes. Nothing is ever really disposable - all of this plastic crap that we so carelessly throw away because of our need for convenience doesn't really go anywhere. It stays here - maybe it goes farther away from our individual homes or places of work, but it's still here. Plastic water bottles that people don't recycle (the water quality for which really isn't even better than most US tap water. Yemen or Pakistan, it may be another story), plastic plates, cups, utensils - all of this crap. It's clogging up our landfills, our oceans, our rivers, our entire freaking planet. And because we think "hey, it's just one ___", and because a lot of what we need (food products, for example) come in plastic packaging of one kind or another we don't think of what the damage is. We don't think too much about the toxic chemicals used to make it that leach into our water, that get spewed into our air, that get into our bodies.

I had some cottage cheese for breakfast this morning. Sure, the container says it's recyclable, but most places in the US only recycle plastics #1 and #2, for a variety of reasons ranging from ease of processing to expense to the structural integrity of the plastic after its been recycled to marketability of the material. This container, like many, did not fall into that category. So I can't recycle it - so it's more plastic crap clogging up our planet. I try to avoid excess packaging when I shop, and I try to look for things that I can recycle as well. I try to reuse containers that I can't recycle, and I try to avoid plastics if possible, which it often isn't. But really, our planet is a finite resource and we should take better care of it. It's the most amazing gift we have been given, and we're continuing to exploit it like it's going out of style, despite the prevalence of corporate greenwashing.

I know I'm part of the problem, too. I'm not living in a yurt that I made of twigs in the middle of nowhere, growing my own food, and not using any electricity, fossil fuels, or toxic chemicals in my daily life. I may try to minimize my contribution to the problem, but I know I'm still part of it. So I don't want to sound holier-than-thou about all this.

And now that my blood pressure is nice and high, and I probably didn't state what I wanted to state nearly as well as I wanted to state it, I'll be off.

Idyllic

2008-02-08T09:53:00.001-05:00

That’s really the only way I can think to describe our weekend. It was just…perfect. Many, many months ago, my friend E and I were thinking that it would be fun to surprise our respective husbands with a weekend away somewhere. So, she found the place, we booked the rooms, told our respective husbands to plan for a three-day weekend, and the plan was set in motion! Keep in mind that we made these reservations and plans in September. So this meant that we had five months to get really excited about it, to torment them with the knowledge that we knew where we were going and they didn’t, and to plan fun things to do.

So K and I both took Friday off, although I was still working when the sun came up Friday morning, so I didn’t really have the day off – just most of the daylight hours. I went for a swim that morning to stretch my tired muscles and clear my head, then we packed and were off. The weather was kind of nasty and rainy as we wound our way up 270 to 70 to 68. As we went, I started to notice ice on the trees, which gave the landscape a really beautiful, ethereal look to it. K and I were happily driving down the road, snacking on some goodies, chatting, and starting to unwind a little. The last couple weeks had felt pretty draining for me, and I was in need of some renewal. So, unbeknownst to E and me when we made these reservations way back when, the timing was absolutely perfect for me, personally. The rain gave way to some sleet and snow, which slowed our progress a little. K and I both commented on the similarities to our wedding as we climbed up into the mountains. We finally reached our destination, a beautiful B&B perched on the shore of Deep Creek Lake and almost directly across the street from Wisp ski resort. We unloaded our car and stepped into the Inn – a beautiful, Arts and Crafts-style building with a friendly staff, comfy leather chairs in the great room, and a roaring fire in the fire place. Their evening wine and hors d’oeuvres were already out for everyone to enjoy, and we were shown around the Inn and then to our room.

Standing in our room, I turned to K and squealed a teeny bit, managing to squeak out “we haven’t even left yet, and I already want to come back!”. He laughed, and when I asked if this was a good surprise, he said that yes, it definitely was. (Yay me…) We called E and G and met them downstairs a little later to head out for dinner. In the time since we’d checked in, there was a lot more snow and ice on the roads, particularly our steep little parking lot. Neither Whitey nor E&G’s car could make it out of the lot. So we decided that driving anywhere for dinner was pretty much out of the question, and began walking down the road, since we’d seen a few places on our way there that, according to the list we were given when we checked in, were less than a mile away –an easy walk. We made our way there, slipping and crunching through the snow, chattering happily all the while, looking at the people whizzing down the slopes at night. We opened the door to the Santa Fe Grill and were greeted by a blast of warm air and the smell of barbeque – there’s very little wrong with that, in my opinion.

We sat down and E and I perused the drinks menu with great interest, each deciding that a margarita would hit the spot. Unfortunately for E, she had left her purse, complete with ID, in their car. Back at the Inn. Nowhere near her 31-year-old self. And despite all of us testifying to her age, despite her insistence on pointing out every single gray hair on her head, and despite reciting her birth date the way a young child recites their times tables when they’ve really got them memorized…nothing could sway our 21-year old waitress. It was okay, she was just doing her job. We were all very understanding, but G couldn’t help but laugh every time she got her glass of water refilled. It didn’t help that when my margarita arrived, it was approximately the size of my head. I did give her a generous sip, though…

After dinner, we trotted out into the snow and the walk back felt much shorter, which made us all happy since it also felt much colder. We arrived back at the Inn and trundled up to our respective rooms. K and I filled up our huge Jacuzzi tub with some bath salts and steaming hot water, and turned on the jets – sinking into the bubbles which felt great against my back, which hasn’t quite been right since our stupid car accident. I almost fell asleep in that tub, but before we both drowned, we crawled into bed and dozed off by the fire.

I woke up in the morning to some totally sweet bed head, which prompted a quick shower before we went down for breakfast. Which, by the way, was freaking amazing. LOVED it. Creative and delicious and fresh. We looked out over the snow-covered frozen lake, and I could feel my brain renewing a little, and the stress dropping away. We went up to our respective rooms again to be lazy until our only scheduled activity for the weekend at 1:30. After napping a little and watching a movie from their DVD library, K and I brought a board game down to the great room and decided to play by the fire until E & G were ready to head down. They watched in curiosity as we wrapped up our game, then bundled up to head across the street to Wisp.

E had asked me a couple weeks ago what I thought about snow tubing. My response was that I thought it sounded sweet, so I was down for it. I asked K if he was interested, and he thought it sounded like fun, and holy crap, was it ever! Two hours of hurtling down an icy hillside on a large, inflated rubber tube is one heck of a way to spend the afternoon, if you have the time and inclination. There were two ways to get from the bottom to the top, the fastest of which was a conveyor belt that you would stand on that would pull you up the side. After we’d been there for about an hour, the guy there who was “managing” the conveyor belt and rope-tow that you could also use to get to the top asked us to hold up because there were a lot of people on the belt, and there was a weight limit.

To which I cried “Are you saying I’m fat????”

I saw a look of terror briefly flicker beneath his mirrored sunglasses before he realized that I was laughing, and then joined in the joke.

We really picked the ideal time to be there, I thought, because we had a nice, relaxed morning, we were out when the sun wasn’t its most intense, and by the time our session was ending, the sun was going down and it was starting to get cold. Our next stop was the mountain coaster, a roller coaster of sorts that winds up, down, and around the mountain. Out of deference to my back and a suspicion that roller coasters wouldn’t be good for it in its delicate state, I declined, but sent the other three on their way, promising to take pictures as they came whipping down the mountain.

Yes, I realize that it’s possible that tubing wasn’t great for my back, either. But a girl’s got to have some fun, kids.

After that, we decided to postpone our walk back to the Inn with a stop for some refreshments. E and I should have known better than to let the dudes pick, because we ended up with hot chocolate, hot dogs, and brownies. All of which were darn good, especially since it was after five and none of us had eaten since breakfast, but perhaps not the best nutritional choice (see previous posts about ripping the lining of my fat pants). Ah well – you only live once!

We went back out into the cold, but fortunately only had to jog across the street to get to the little neighborhood in which the Inn is located. Fog had started to come in over the lake as the sun was setting, and it was like drifting through something out of a movie. No more than a five minute walk, and we were back in the great room, and K had thrown several more logs on the fire to make the room nice and toasty. We were deciding on a plan of action for the evening, and determined that some time in the sauna on the top floor, followed by some relaxation in our respective Jacuzzis would be a great way to get ready for dinner. And oh, was it ever – I felt all the tension in my muscles, built up from a day of hurling myself down an icy hill on a rubber tube, melt away as I sank into the hot bubbly water.

We were all in the mood for steak and we headed out to a relatively nearby steakhouse. Dinner was tasty and filling and warm, and after we arrived back at the Inn, we decided to head up to our room and watch a movie and drink some wine. After having some more of the cookies that were always out and available for guests. These were some good cookies. And the reason I can say that with such confidence is that I had a liberal sampling. At multiple intervals. I mean, yes, they had fruit available too, and I did have a couple apples over the course of the weekend. But I had more cookies…

We turned on the gas fireplace in our room, E & G curled up in the comfy arm chairs, and K and I sat on our bed and we watched “Music and Lyrics”, a very silly, funny, fluffy little movie that was about all our brains could handle – but the 80s music videos in it are hilarious. We all drifted off to sleep at one point or the other, waking up in time for the end of the movie, and in time for E&G to trundle off to their room for our last night at the Inn.

We woke up the next morning to bright sunshine and another fantastic breakfast, and decided that we’d have a little more chill time before we had to check out. Again…that Jacuzzi is so awesome. I can even stretch out my legs in it – K and I can sit in it together and I can stretch out my legs in it. As we were checking out, I asked if anyone would mind if we sat by the fire in the great room and played games and we were told that we could stay as long as we wanted, and reminded to help ourselves to tea, coffee, cider, fruit, and of course, cookies. So we broke out “Uno” and later a new game that we were introduced to, to which we have introduced all our friends, called “Ticket to Ride” that is slowly but surely addictive. I was also coaching E on her knitting as she busily worked on a scarf for her mother in law. Special K made sure that the fire kept roaring, and we hung out for a few more hours before bundling into our cars and setting off for home.

So yeah…it was a perfect weekend, and we were sad to leave. But the good news is that we can always go back!

Waiting...

2008-01-31T09:21:00.001-05:00

There are some opportunities afoot for me, but they’re just taking forever to materialize. I’m getting impatient (which must completely surprise all of you) and I’m finding my motivation waning, which is frustrating. I don’t want to be that person. The one who checks out mentally long before they’re gone – because everyone dislikes that person. Including me. And I have no assurance of any kind that I’ll actually be going anywhere anyway. So…yeah.

K and I have been making regular excursions to the gym, and what I’m trying to figure out now is what I can do that won’t hurt my friggin’ back. At present, most things do to some degree, but it’s a matter of figuring out what counts as “discomfort” and what counts as “pain” or “damage”. And whether or not it’s just a matter of being in poor condition, or a matter of some physiological damage. So, there’s that. I want to commit to swimming one day a week, starting in February, though. We’ll see if declaring it in a public forum makes me feel more accountable.

Probably won’t, but can’t hurt.

I’m curious to see what taxes will be like this year. K and I had that big ol’ panic back a few months ago and took action to try to remedy it – now it’s time to see what the Feds think about it! (And the State of Maryland.) If they think we owe them money, please be forewarned that I am likely to use some very un-Christian language to describe my thoughts on the matter. It might involve some references to my 10-year old Hyundai again, also. (God bless it, it still runs just fine!! Let’s all hope it stays that way!)

As a little update – we did our taxes last night and for whatever reason, the IRS income tax calculator was way, way off for us, and we’re getting a huge refund! As much as we are tempted to go with our original plan of a trip to Vietnam, and trust me, it’s very tempting, we’re instead going to use a tiny bit for fun money, half for debt, and half to hold onto in case we have to move. If we don’t, then that will go to debt, too.

I have to say, for the first time in a long time, I actually feel optimistic about our finances. Things like home ownership are still a long way off for us, but I feel like we’ll be able to make some really good progress this year.

And we are totally going to save up for a trip to Vietnam and Australia next year. That is not a trip we want to do with little kids, and we don’t want to wait 15 more years to do it.

Of course, having actually been foolish enough to write out all that unbridled optimism, I’m sure that something is now going to come and kick us straight in the ass. I’ll keep you all posted…

Just Call Me Ms. Rogers

2008-01-24T09:32:00.000-05:00

When did I become this person? I mean really. Yes, it’s freezing in my office. Fuh-reezing. Despite the claims of the building services guy who says that the thermostat is set at 72 degrees. Just like my fingernails don’t turn blue when it’s 67 degrees outside, they really don’t do it if it’s 72. So I come in every day. I make my oatmeal, get a cup of hot tea, and sit down at my desk…and put on a cardigan. A cardigan that has not, as of late, been anywhere near warm enough, as my joints are still stiff from the cold. I really am fine with bundling up in colder weather – see my post above about being enrobed in fleece. But I can’t dress like that at my office! It would be one thing if it was warm in the summertime; that would make more sense to me, or at least be consistent. But no, it’s freezing then, too. So my cardigan is a year-round staple.

How old am I? 90???

Fortunately there is no song accompanying the donning of the cardigan, asking anyone to be my neighbor. That would just be awkward.

And sad, since there’s not usually anyone else here when I get here.

Sigh

2008-01-22T09:08:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was great. It was a quiet, productive day. The house was already clean, since I’d cleaned it on Sunday afternoon, which felt great. I was working at the dining room table with a nice fire going to which I’d occasionally add another log or two. The cats were curled up and sleeping nearby (Milo was, as previously mentioned, sleeping right next to my laptop and acting as a fuzzy little paperweight), I took a little nap at lunchtime and had a productive afternoon, and it was just…peaceful.

I was actually going to work from home again today, and I know I’m lucky to have the freedom to do that, since a lot of people don’t. But I started to think that I should probably show my face in the office, so K and I woke up (late) and I hustled to get out the door at a semi-reasonable hour. (Which we kind of didn’t.) And now…not feeling quite so peaceful and rested.

But to buck me up, the folks over at Grist, who are coincidentally the authors of one of my new favorite books, made me totally laugh this morning with the following snippet:

Muskrat Love Ain't Got Nothin' on This
Romance novelist accused of plagiarizing green group's magazine

Bloggers at Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Books have accused popular romance writer Cassie Edwards of plagiarism in a number of her tomes, including Savage Longings, Savage Moon, and Savage Beloved. Among the accusations lobbed at Edwards -- who, it may surprise you to know, often writes about the lustful dalliances of Native American characters -- is that a description of black-footed ferrets in last year's Shadow Bear was lifted nearly word-for-word from a 2005 article in a quarterly magazine published by green group Defenders of Wildlife. "I'm glad that our magazine has inspired others to write about endangered wildlife," says Defenders editor and ironically named Mark Cheater. "But I'd like to note that our articles are copyrighted, and those who wish to reuse parts or all of these stories need to seek permission first." Edwards, with a heaving bosom, has said she wasn't aware she needed to credit her sources.

I'm Sure This Is All Very Interesting...

Write Your Own Ending

Slipping Away

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Everyone Else Is Doing It...

Blocked...

Irony

Retirement

They Shoot Delinquent Bloggers, Don't They?

Buried...

So Sad

Reflections, Bastard People, and the Year to Come…

The Night Shift

Lemon Bars

Humbling

What She Said...

One Down, Fifteen to Go

And Now I Know

Not Fair

Food for Thought

It Makes Me Sad..

Reflecting

Home

Reflections

One Ticket to Paradise

This is My Brain on Sleep Deprivation

The Pickle

The True Meaning of Loathing

When Will It End?

Why My Husband Is A Rockstar, by Mandy, Age 32

Fickle

My List Keeps Growing

Lucky

Deja Vu

So, You Know What's Fun?

How Did It Happen?

*sigh*

Back from the Frozen North

Heading Out

*ahem*

How You've Grown

The Hamster is Running

Say Wha-?

So, What's the Hold Up?

Frick

And the Kitchen Sink...

I'm Not Always Lucky

Happy happy...

Fantastic

Serendipity

On The Road

Peace

Scam-o-rama

Whirlwind, part deux

It's the Final Countdown

One Week

Middle Name Game...

Fever

Countdown

And Finally...

Cultural Perspective

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!!!

Isn't It Romantic?

Disposable

Idyllic

Waiting...

Just Call Me Ms. Rogers

*Sigh*

sigh

ahem

Sigh