I live next door to a bar. I have lived next door to this particular bar most of my life. There are times when it is noisy and I want all of the patrons to simultaneously choke on their PBR and die but for the most part I find the murmurings of my fellow city dwellers comforting. Sometimes, like the other night, I find their antics downright amusing.
2 days ago there was an argument at the bar that had to be “taken outside.” Two men, both clearly drunk (although one much more so than the other) stood outside yelling at one another. Actually it was mostly the more drunk one yelling. He was telling the other man all the things that were fucked up about America. More accurately, he was telling the other man that HE was the thing that fucked up America. Apparently the less drunk man had single handedly ruined this great country. That is, until my neighbor came home.
She pulled up in front of the house parked the wrong way and sent her daughter in to grab some videos that needed returning. This was too much for the more drunk man. He pointed at my neighbor and told her SHE was what fucked up America. She did not respect the rules that granted her the freedoms of being an American. She was an ungrateful and spiteful woman with no respect for her country.
At this point we find out that the two drunk, arguing men are actually friends. The less drunk man attempts to persuade the more drunk man to head home with him. In between his slurred and broken attempts to convince the more drunk man to go, he would throw apologies over his shoulder at my neighbor. Finally, tempting the more drunk man with a stop and Jack-In-The-Box, it appeared as though they would be leaving. Alas, nothing is really that easy. The more drunk man swiveled his head back at my neighbor and yelled “I hope a cop comes by and gives you a ticket!” to which she replied “I hope a cop pulls you over while you drive your drunk ass home!” Seemingly perplexed by this previously unconsidered possibility, he was led back to his car by his friend. His friend continued to sputter out half apologies as he made his way to his own car.
I think that the more drunk man had a point and we could all learn a lesson from him. Clearly SOMEONE has fucked up America. But the more fucked up we get, the more blurred our vision becomes. If we continue to blame our allies and neighbors for our problems, we will be packed up, sputtering and complaining in our own delusion, and sent off to meet our fate alone.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Smoking in the Rain
This post is dedicated to Jacob who once (actually more than once) told me that smoking is committing suicide for the lazy and non committal. It is also dedicated to my friend T (who is lazy) and Aarwenn (who is non-committal) who both smoke. (I love you guys)
I am considering going to have a cigarette. Somehow this seems like an important decision.
I might go have a cigarette because I am bored. It is not even 10:30 and I am ready to call it a day. More accurately I am ready to chew my own leg off and escape. Sadly the things keeping me here are stronger than a steal bear trap; I need the money.
I am thinking I might not go have a cigarette because I don't really want one. I don't smoke all that much (6-5 cigarettes a week) and I rarely smoke at all before 5 pm.
Then again, I might go have one because I could get out of the office. If I can't run from the building screaming "Die you money grubbing, capitalist whores!" while simultaneously ripping my Express professional wear off of my body and flipping everyone the bird, the least I can do is stand outside the door blowing smoke into client's faces.
But it might not be worth having a smoke because it is raining outside and I would get wet. Somehow smoking in the rain makes you smell worse and I have a lunch meeting latter today.
On the other hand, a cigarette could really calm me down. Maybe I would come back to my desk merely suicidal rather than homicidal.
Well. I think that settles it. I am going to go stand in the rain and smoke because smoking makes you cool, rebellious, mysterious and thin; and because doing it in the rain makes you seem more depressed and pathetic but if you can master the right glowering stare into space while you stand in the rain, you might fool someone into thinking you aren't just depressed and pathetic but also a little crazy and close to snapping. Everyone knows that inciting glowering, smoking, city people dressed in black while they are smoking is apt to get you a burning butt in the eye. Man I hope someone gives me to opportunity to do that.
I am considering going to have a cigarette. Somehow this seems like an important decision.
I might go have a cigarette because I am bored. It is not even 10:30 and I am ready to call it a day. More accurately I am ready to chew my own leg off and escape. Sadly the things keeping me here are stronger than a steal bear trap; I need the money.
I am thinking I might not go have a cigarette because I don't really want one. I don't smoke all that much (6-5 cigarettes a week) and I rarely smoke at all before 5 pm.
Then again, I might go have one because I could get out of the office. If I can't run from the building screaming "Die you money grubbing, capitalist whores!" while simultaneously ripping my Express professional wear off of my body and flipping everyone the bird, the least I can do is stand outside the door blowing smoke into client's faces.
But it might not be worth having a smoke because it is raining outside and I would get wet. Somehow smoking in the rain makes you smell worse and I have a lunch meeting latter today.
On the other hand, a cigarette could really calm me down. Maybe I would come back to my desk merely suicidal rather than homicidal.
Well. I think that settles it. I am going to go stand in the rain and smoke because smoking makes you cool, rebellious, mysterious and thin; and because doing it in the rain makes you seem more depressed and pathetic but if you can master the right glowering stare into space while you stand in the rain, you might fool someone into thinking you aren't just depressed and pathetic but also a little crazy and close to snapping. Everyone knows that inciting glowering, smoking, city people dressed in black while they are smoking is apt to get you a burning butt in the eye. Man I hope someone gives me to opportunity to do that.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Another One Bites the Dust
In totally unrelated news, I just got an e-mail that a woman who I work with has decided to take her career in a different direction and will no longer work here as of today. That is the 4th person in an office of 13 to leave since I started here in May. That is almost one per month; practically ¼ the office in one season. I need a new job.
Packing it on.
This weekend I went on a backpacking trip with my Father. Master planner that I am, I am still in the habit of deferring to the judgment of my parents in their particular areas of expertise. If I am going through and emotional struggle I call my mother for perspective and if I am going on an outdoor trip with my Father I let him plan it. The fact that I cannot walk today (2 days after the conclusion of this latest trip) is surprising to me only because of my own stubborn refusal to learn from experience.
My Father has been doing this my entire life. At 3 years old I was expected to carry my own clothes and a large bag of M&Ms for 3 to 4 mile hikes. If I were to complain the M&Ms would be taken away. Oh, the torture. At 6 years old I was expected to endure 3 day cross country ski trips. At 8 I began leading sport routes in rock climbing. When I was 11 I rode the Seattle to Portland. . . in one day (at least I was on the back of a tandem.) At 14 I was given a road bike and after riding it twice, I cried my way over Blewett pass; yes, a mountain pass my third time on the bike. At 16 I disappointed my Father by refusing to finish climbing Mt Adams with a black eye and no depth perception.
My father’s limitless expectations have, in many ways, helped me to achieve great things. I think that my refusal to roll over and play dead is mostly due to his pushing me. I love that about myself and I would not change it for the world. Still, as I sit here grinding my teeth through every Charlie horse, I wonder if this is still necessary.
This last weekend we were going to hike into the Enchantments (eastern side of the northern Washington cascades) and camp at Leprechaun Lake. We were going to climb Prussic Peak and Boyfriend and I would hike out Sunday. My Father and his 2 buddies were going to stay for a week and do some more climbing. This sounded fine to me. The problem was I did not look at what a hike into Leprechaun Lake would entail. The hike into Leprechaun Lake is a little over 11 miles with a 6,000 ft elevation gain. That is almost 500 ft per mile. Factor in that I have been at a calorie deficit for a month and that my newly sedentary lifestyle awards me about 5 hours of physical activity a week and you have set the stage for disaster.
The hike was beautiful but I barley had time to stop and look. The men were ahead of me the entire time so I was hiking alone and under pressure to catch up. When we hit the last 4 miles the hike became less of a hike and more of a series of scrambles connected by small patches of trail and marked by piles of rocks. For those of you who do not hike or climb, this means that I was pulling myself up rock faces, often needing hand holds, with no rope and a 40+ lb. pack on. Add to this, the fact that everyone in my party was so far ahead I could not see them and the sun was beating down on the treeless mountain side. To make a long story short (and to spare you my humiliation) we will just say that I barley made it. In fact, I only made it fueled by my own anger. I refused to go climbing in the morning because I was sure I would not make the hike out by nightfall if I was tired from climbing already. I think my Dad knew it was all too much because for the first time in history, he did not try to talk me into it. I think we have all learned some lessons here. Next time I want a close look at the itinerary.
My Father has been doing this my entire life. At 3 years old I was expected to carry my own clothes and a large bag of M&Ms for 3 to 4 mile hikes. If I were to complain the M&Ms would be taken away. Oh, the torture. At 6 years old I was expected to endure 3 day cross country ski trips. At 8 I began leading sport routes in rock climbing. When I was 11 I rode the Seattle to Portland. . . in one day (at least I was on the back of a tandem.) At 14 I was given a road bike and after riding it twice, I cried my way over Blewett pass; yes, a mountain pass my third time on the bike. At 16 I disappointed my Father by refusing to finish climbing Mt Adams with a black eye and no depth perception.
My father’s limitless expectations have, in many ways, helped me to achieve great things. I think that my refusal to roll over and play dead is mostly due to his pushing me. I love that about myself and I would not change it for the world. Still, as I sit here grinding my teeth through every Charlie horse, I wonder if this is still necessary.
This last weekend we were going to hike into the Enchantments (eastern side of the northern Washington cascades) and camp at Leprechaun Lake. We were going to climb Prussic Peak and Boyfriend and I would hike out Sunday. My Father and his 2 buddies were going to stay for a week and do some more climbing. This sounded fine to me. The problem was I did not look at what a hike into Leprechaun Lake would entail. The hike into Leprechaun Lake is a little over 11 miles with a 6,000 ft elevation gain. That is almost 500 ft per mile. Factor in that I have been at a calorie deficit for a month and that my newly sedentary lifestyle awards me about 5 hours of physical activity a week and you have set the stage for disaster.
The hike was beautiful but I barley had time to stop and look. The men were ahead of me the entire time so I was hiking alone and under pressure to catch up. When we hit the last 4 miles the hike became less of a hike and more of a series of scrambles connected by small patches of trail and marked by piles of rocks. For those of you who do not hike or climb, this means that I was pulling myself up rock faces, often needing hand holds, with no rope and a 40+ lb. pack on. Add to this, the fact that everyone in my party was so far ahead I could not see them and the sun was beating down on the treeless mountain side. To make a long story short (and to spare you my humiliation) we will just say that I barley made it. In fact, I only made it fueled by my own anger. I refused to go climbing in the morning because I was sure I would not make the hike out by nightfall if I was tired from climbing already. I think my Dad knew it was all too much because for the first time in history, he did not try to talk me into it. I think we have all learned some lessons here. Next time I want a close look at the itinerary.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Get ME Outta Here!
I did not go back to work. I went to the doctor who confirmed my suspicion that my headaches were migraines. He gave me a few samples to try and prescriptions for each with instructions to try them all and pick the one that worked best. Then he told me to find a new job and read a book on centering. Apparently my stress levels are high, who knew?
I have found several jobs I would prefer; the trick is convincing them that they would prefer me. I have decided that no matter what the outcome of this most recent job search, I will be quitting this job as soon as I pay my bills and use up my vacation. I took Monday off for no good reason.
We will now have a play by play of my ongoing job hunt.
#1 job pick, City of Tacoma – Urban Planner
This one is a 15 min WALK from my house (Stadium district side of downtown for those of you from Tacoma). I would work for the city I love and make a ton more money than I make now. Also I would get government holidays.
#2 job pick, Puget Sound Regional Council – Associate Planner
I would get to work in downtown Seattle so I could commute by bus or train and read during traffic. It is part time with full benefits (including holidays but no vacation) and pays enough that I would STILL make more money than I do now working less hours.
#3 job pick, AHBL – Secondary Planner
This is 5 min from my house (Old Town). This is a private company that is the recognized regional leader in green and low impact development. Their mission statement focuses on creating good people and environments rather than on satisfying demanding clients (I think ours actually says that).
#4 Job pick, Kitsap County – Associate Planner
This job is part time but again, I would be making more per hour so I would take home the same amount of money. No mention of benefits in the announcement so I would have to ask. The commute is killer (Port Orchard is 45 min away on a good day). Still, I would be working for a jurisdiction and I would get more time off. Also Kitsap County is a good place to make a difference environmentally because of the conflict between the rural and the rich out there.
Those are the jobs I have applied for. My friend T who just got hired at Pierce County (15 min max from my house) says they should be hiring soon too. I am faxing my resume to her today.
UPDATE: As I was about to post this I was contacted my AHBL. They want to interview me next week! Good thing I took Monday off.
I have found several jobs I would prefer; the trick is convincing them that they would prefer me. I have decided that no matter what the outcome of this most recent job search, I will be quitting this job as soon as I pay my bills and use up my vacation. I took Monday off for no good reason.
We will now have a play by play of my ongoing job hunt.
#1 job pick, City of Tacoma – Urban Planner
This one is a 15 min WALK from my house (Stadium district side of downtown for those of you from Tacoma). I would work for the city I love and make a ton more money than I make now. Also I would get government holidays.
#2 job pick, Puget Sound Regional Council – Associate Planner
I would get to work in downtown Seattle so I could commute by bus or train and read during traffic. It is part time with full benefits (including holidays but no vacation) and pays enough that I would STILL make more money than I do now working less hours.
#3 job pick, AHBL – Secondary Planner
This is 5 min from my house (Old Town). This is a private company that is the recognized regional leader in green and low impact development. Their mission statement focuses on creating good people and environments rather than on satisfying demanding clients (I think ours actually says that).
#4 Job pick, Kitsap County – Associate Planner
This job is part time but again, I would be making more per hour so I would take home the same amount of money. No mention of benefits in the announcement so I would have to ask. The commute is killer (Port Orchard is 45 min away on a good day). Still, I would be working for a jurisdiction and I would get more time off. Also Kitsap County is a good place to make a difference environmentally because of the conflict between the rural and the rich out there.
Those are the jobs I have applied for. My friend T who just got hired at Pierce County (15 min max from my house) says they should be hiring soon too. I am faxing my resume to her today.
UPDATE: As I was about to post this I was contacted my AHBL. They want to interview me next week! Good thing I took Monday off.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Head Splitting Hooky
I am writing this from a coffee shop at 11:00 on a Wednesday morning. I was supposed to be at work today. I really even planned on going but the alarm going off nearly split my head in two. The throbbing did not stop once I turned the alarm off. When I got out of bed and turned on the light I was struck down with a rod of lightning. The flash ripped behind my right eye tearing a hole through my brain from it to my right ear. Yum, morning migraine.
This has happened before. So I turned the light off and started to get ready for work. First I chugged down 3 times the suggested dosage of some over the counter migraine pills. Then I went to take a shower in the dark.
Brilliant.
I fell over twice, each time the migraine pills laughed at me. “We won’t help your headache go away! We will just burn holes in your stomach!” That plus the dizzy felling made me decide that the universe it trying to tell me something. DON’T GO TO WORK! Too much stress and nothing to make me happy until I get home has begun to take a rather large toll on my health.
I called work and told them I had a migraine and I might be in latter.
I went back to bed.
I woke up at 8:45 feeling like a bed of fresh roses (that is I smelled good and looked better but if you were to disrupt me in any way I would have ripped a thousand tiny holes in your flesh just to watch you bleed)
I decided to go downtown and use the Internet at a coffee shop to send in some applications. It is time for a new job. But I have finished that and now I am faced with the question, do I go into work now that I am feeling better? Probably I should. Damn.
This has happened before. So I turned the light off and started to get ready for work. First I chugged down 3 times the suggested dosage of some over the counter migraine pills. Then I went to take a shower in the dark.
Brilliant.
I fell over twice, each time the migraine pills laughed at me. “We won’t help your headache go away! We will just burn holes in your stomach!” That plus the dizzy felling made me decide that the universe it trying to tell me something. DON’T GO TO WORK! Too much stress and nothing to make me happy until I get home has begun to take a rather large toll on my health.
I called work and told them I had a migraine and I might be in latter.
I went back to bed.
I woke up at 8:45 feeling like a bed of fresh roses (that is I smelled good and looked better but if you were to disrupt me in any way I would have ripped a thousand tiny holes in your flesh just to watch you bleed)
I decided to go downtown and use the Internet at a coffee shop to send in some applications. It is time for a new job. But I have finished that and now I am faced with the question, do I go into work now that I am feeling better? Probably I should. Damn.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Philosophy of Pool Bobbing
I love my birthday. I like having people make a big deal about my existence. I like the cards, and the singing and the food and wearing stupid hats at Mexican chain restraints while middle class white kids whose parents are making them learn “work ethic” by having a part time job, sing Feliz Cumpleaños to me in horrible Spanish. I like pictures of myself (even in said hat) and I like presents.
I have heard this rumor that I am no longer supposed to like my birthday. There is some point were I am supposed to start hating as a symbol of my impending death. I am choosing to look at my birthday as a marker of success. I mean, for better or worse, I have made it through another year. Whatever I think about becoming older or my prospects for the future, I have at least managed to remain alive for another 365 days. Isn’t that worth something? It is a personal record to say the least, right?
So maybe I am getting older. So maybe my prospects are shrinking and my thighs are expanding. But I have a plan; and more importantly, I have a goal.
I think we learn to hate our Birthdays because they become a reminder of the things we cannot dream about anymore. I have given up my 4 year old dream of growing up to be the worlds fastest flying Pegasus. I have moved on from my middle school dream of following in Mariah Carey’s footsteps. I have left behind the high school idea that I could start a non-profit and stop world hunger. I have even modified my college goals of becoming a lawyer who stamps out injustice during the week and writes thought provoking, life altering, philosophically entertaining novels on the weekends. But my birthday is not about the limitations that my previous life choices have put on me. No, it is about achieving my ultimate life goal of becoming a Pool Bobber.
Not since the moment that this goal has entered my realm of consciousness have I even once wavered in my dedication to achieving it. I remember that during a visit to the YMCA one summer my friend and I were shocked to see the fattest women in the world waddle out in a line onto the pool deck. Their pasty, cellulite pocked flesh moved about their frames in rippling waves as they walked. Their shamelessness struck me as courageous. With each thunderous step they proudly declared their right to wear a bathing suit. As they walked past the lap pool to the smaller “therapy” pool I realized that these women have more self esteem than anyone I had ever seen. They were not hurrying past us, ashamed of themselves. They were not detoured by our open mouthed stares. They seemed safe and comfortable in their mountains of flesh. Once they reached to therapy pool they wrapped pieces of special foam around their arms and one of them turned on a boom box. She then began to yell over the music; instructing the others to do hokey-pokey type moves bringing their arms in and out of the water as they bounced up and down slowly in time to the music.
I decided then and there that this was what I wanted out of my life. I wanted to gorge myself on all life had to offer. I wanted to bloat myself with the spoils of a life well lived. Then I wanted to walk around proudly and quietly enjoying the enormous mass of all I had collected. I wanted to whorishly display it to everyone who would look. I wanted to bounce up and down, dancing and splashing in my gluttonous collection of self and surroundings with my friends.
That is why I will continue to celebrate my birthday every year as long as I live. Because no matter how old I am, no matter how many milestones have come and gone, I still have that picture of those women in my mind. I will celebrate my path to Pool Bobbing as it unfolds and once I reach my goal, I will celebrate every step I took to get there.
I have heard this rumor that I am no longer supposed to like my birthday. There is some point were I am supposed to start hating as a symbol of my impending death. I am choosing to look at my birthday as a marker of success. I mean, for better or worse, I have made it through another year. Whatever I think about becoming older or my prospects for the future, I have at least managed to remain alive for another 365 days. Isn’t that worth something? It is a personal record to say the least, right?
So maybe I am getting older. So maybe my prospects are shrinking and my thighs are expanding. But I have a plan; and more importantly, I have a goal.
I think we learn to hate our Birthdays because they become a reminder of the things we cannot dream about anymore. I have given up my 4 year old dream of growing up to be the worlds fastest flying Pegasus. I have moved on from my middle school dream of following in Mariah Carey’s footsteps. I have left behind the high school idea that I could start a non-profit and stop world hunger. I have even modified my college goals of becoming a lawyer who stamps out injustice during the week and writes thought provoking, life altering, philosophically entertaining novels on the weekends. But my birthday is not about the limitations that my previous life choices have put on me. No, it is about achieving my ultimate life goal of becoming a Pool Bobber.
Not since the moment that this goal has entered my realm of consciousness have I even once wavered in my dedication to achieving it. I remember that during a visit to the YMCA one summer my friend and I were shocked to see the fattest women in the world waddle out in a line onto the pool deck. Their pasty, cellulite pocked flesh moved about their frames in rippling waves as they walked. Their shamelessness struck me as courageous. With each thunderous step they proudly declared their right to wear a bathing suit. As they walked past the lap pool to the smaller “therapy” pool I realized that these women have more self esteem than anyone I had ever seen. They were not hurrying past us, ashamed of themselves. They were not detoured by our open mouthed stares. They seemed safe and comfortable in their mountains of flesh. Once they reached to therapy pool they wrapped pieces of special foam around their arms and one of them turned on a boom box. She then began to yell over the music; instructing the others to do hokey-pokey type moves bringing their arms in and out of the water as they bounced up and down slowly in time to the music.
I decided then and there that this was what I wanted out of my life. I wanted to gorge myself on all life had to offer. I wanted to bloat myself with the spoils of a life well lived. Then I wanted to walk around proudly and quietly enjoying the enormous mass of all I had collected. I wanted to whorishly display it to everyone who would look. I wanted to bounce up and down, dancing and splashing in my gluttonous collection of self and surroundings with my friends.
That is why I will continue to celebrate my birthday every year as long as I live. Because no matter how old I am, no matter how many milestones have come and gone, I still have that picture of those women in my mind. I will celebrate my path to Pool Bobbing as it unfolds and once I reach my goal, I will celebrate every step I took to get there.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
On Gas Prices, Fred Myer, and Marrige Proposals
Last night the man checking my groceries proposed to me. This is the third time I have been proposed to, the second time I have said no, and the only time I have said no graciously. I am inclined to believe that the proposal was a joke but that may just be because the whole situation was uncomfortable and if it were a joke I might feel a little better about it. Whatever the case, I know you want the story now.
In the exciting world that is my life, Wednesdays are personal training days. This means that I generally go from work to the gym and then home to make dinner. After dinner I read or watch Law & Order for an hour before I go to bed. All this was derailed by rising gas prices.
I used to be the kind of person who, no matter how little I made, refused to care about gas prices. I used my car very little and I filled the tank when it was empty at the nearest gas station at the time. Sure, if there were 2 gas stations next to each other I might decide to go to the cheaper one but if the difference was 1 cent a gallon I might decide based on the proximity of a food mart or the fact that I would not have to make a left hand turn to get into one of them. However, I cannot help but notice $3.oo a gallon gas. So I needed gas on the way to work and I stopped at the nearby shell station but only got 3 gallons at their outrageous price (which I might add is only barley over ½ the average price of gas in European countries) and I planned on stopping at Fred Myer to get gas on the way home.
For those of you who don’t have Fred Myers I am sorry. It is kind of hard to explain to someone who has never been to one. It is like a Target-Rite Aid-Safeway-Ben Bridge (yes, they have a fine jewelry store) Hybrid with a better wine section, and entire health and bulk foods department, no cute clothes and really cheep gas (Cheaper than Safeway or Albertsons but more expensive than Costco). I love it about ¾ as much as I love Target but for totally different reasons.
So I’m getting gas at Fred Myer in my gym shorts and my work sweater (I was cold) when I remember that it is payday and I am out of Yerba Mate (not to mention food in general) so I decide to go inside. I may not have planned to go grocery shopping at that time, but I am a Virgo and a planner for a living so I had a list (yes a physical, on paper list) with me anyway. So I gathered up fruit (at least 3 kinds), carrots, stir fry veggies, salad mix (with spinach), tofu (baked and raw), detox tea, yerba mate (mint), special K bars, soy nuts, pasta, pasta sauce, light bulbs, tupperware, toilet paper, swiffer cloths, razors, shampoo, and conditioner. Apparently, this neurotic looking mix of things is attractive to some people. I think is says “I have no sense of adventure and spend my money trying to be boring and thin.” But the checker heard something different entirely. Perhaps it was my gym shorts which are supposed to look like boxers but, due to their bright purple color and the letters “U of W” embossed squarely on the ass, are clearly girls pajama/gym shorts. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition those shorts and my fine knit, cream wool turtleneck. Then again, it could have been the food.
My sister seems to think that the Fred Myer checkers are overly forward in general. They tend to ask what your plans for the day are based on what you are buying or comment on how they love this or really wanted to try that particular thing you are buying. Once, one of them even lectured me on the evils of alcohol when I was buying beer for a party. So when this particular checker begin a conversation with me about UW and how I liked it there I was not particularly on guard. Even when the conversation turned to whether I liked my job, I was not alarmed. When he asked me if I wanted to get married and have kids I was simply confused. In fact it was not until he offered to fill the position of my husband that I was alarmed. I answered him first with only a nervous smile. He then told me that he was ready when ever I was and that I wait as long as I wanted. I composed myself and told him that when I was ready, all the right people would hear about it. Not my most witty comeback ever, but at least I was nice, which is something new and different for me. I would have told him that I was waiting for a bigger ring than he could ever afford or that I don’t date people shorter than me (neither of which are true) but I have been in a good mood lately and my normal spiteful comments are often only funny if you are me. Thank God no one else is me.
In the exciting world that is my life, Wednesdays are personal training days. This means that I generally go from work to the gym and then home to make dinner. After dinner I read or watch Law & Order for an hour before I go to bed. All this was derailed by rising gas prices.
I used to be the kind of person who, no matter how little I made, refused to care about gas prices. I used my car very little and I filled the tank when it was empty at the nearest gas station at the time. Sure, if there were 2 gas stations next to each other I might decide to go to the cheaper one but if the difference was 1 cent a gallon I might decide based on the proximity of a food mart or the fact that I would not have to make a left hand turn to get into one of them. However, I cannot help but notice $3.oo a gallon gas. So I needed gas on the way to work and I stopped at the nearby shell station but only got 3 gallons at their outrageous price (which I might add is only barley over ½ the average price of gas in European countries) and I planned on stopping at Fred Myer to get gas on the way home.
For those of you who don’t have Fred Myers I am sorry. It is kind of hard to explain to someone who has never been to one. It is like a Target-Rite Aid-Safeway-Ben Bridge (yes, they have a fine jewelry store) Hybrid with a better wine section, and entire health and bulk foods department, no cute clothes and really cheep gas (Cheaper than Safeway or Albertsons but more expensive than Costco). I love it about ¾ as much as I love Target but for totally different reasons.
So I’m getting gas at Fred Myer in my gym shorts and my work sweater (I was cold) when I remember that it is payday and I am out of Yerba Mate (not to mention food in general) so I decide to go inside. I may not have planned to go grocery shopping at that time, but I am a Virgo and a planner for a living so I had a list (yes a physical, on paper list) with me anyway. So I gathered up fruit (at least 3 kinds), carrots, stir fry veggies, salad mix (with spinach), tofu (baked and raw), detox tea, yerba mate (mint), special K bars, soy nuts, pasta, pasta sauce, light bulbs, tupperware, toilet paper, swiffer cloths, razors, shampoo, and conditioner. Apparently, this neurotic looking mix of things is attractive to some people. I think is says “I have no sense of adventure and spend my money trying to be boring and thin.” But the checker heard something different entirely. Perhaps it was my gym shorts which are supposed to look like boxers but, due to their bright purple color and the letters “U of W” embossed squarely on the ass, are clearly girls pajama/gym shorts. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition those shorts and my fine knit, cream wool turtleneck. Then again, it could have been the food.
My sister seems to think that the Fred Myer checkers are overly forward in general. They tend to ask what your plans for the day are based on what you are buying or comment on how they love this or really wanted to try that particular thing you are buying. Once, one of them even lectured me on the evils of alcohol when I was buying beer for a party. So when this particular checker begin a conversation with me about UW and how I liked it there I was not particularly on guard. Even when the conversation turned to whether I liked my job, I was not alarmed. When he asked me if I wanted to get married and have kids I was simply confused. In fact it was not until he offered to fill the position of my husband that I was alarmed. I answered him first with only a nervous smile. He then told me that he was ready when ever I was and that I wait as long as I wanted. I composed myself and told him that when I was ready, all the right people would hear about it. Not my most witty comeback ever, but at least I was nice, which is something new and different for me. I would have told him that I was waiting for a bigger ring than he could ever afford or that I don’t date people shorter than me (neither of which are true) but I have been in a good mood lately and my normal spiteful comments are often only funny if you are me. Thank God no one else is me.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I Love Fall Walks, Target, and Romance
I had a fabulous weekend; Perhaps the best in recent history. To avoid confusion, we will go in chronological order.
Friday~
After work I called Boyfriend. He was at my house waiting for me! When I got home we took Taj to the park for over an hour. After that, Taj and I went over to T’s house. I was supposed to take her to pick up her brand new car (they were installing a sunroof). They did not have her car yet but I did get to go to the Subaru dealership and check out all the 06 models of all the cars I want. After that it was back to the house to get ready for a night out with Boyfreind’s work friends. I had never met these people before so I called in reinforcements. That way if they were boring or annoying I would still have someone to talk to. My cousin N came with us. He is a little younger than me and kind of a looker so going out with him is lots of fun. He can drink, he is modest and I have no fear that he is just trying to get in my pants. We had fun with the work friends but moved the party to the neighborhood bar to meet up with Aarwenn, TheBoy, and another friend of theirs and mine. I had too much to drink and had a good time. Strangely, I realized that going “out” is no longer really my thing. I think I would have had more fun for less money inviting everyone over for drinks. Its comforting to know that as my lifestyle is outgrowing the party, party, party mode, so are my tastes.
Saturday~
I got up and Boyfriend made me breakfast of French toast with real maple syrup and a fruit smoothie. My sister and I cleaned the whole house. I ran errands and then went on a gorgeous fall day walk with Aarwenn and the Dogs (also one of the highlights of my weekend). We went to Starbucks, a newish record store, and a pet boutique. All some of my favorite things to do! And all of those stores save Starbucks allow dogs inside! I canceled a Sushi Party dinner with friends to go hang out in Oly with Boyfreind. We took a walk at sunset (that’s 2 walks in one day for me!) another highlight of my weekend. We ended up at one of our favorite bookstores and as we were walking up to the front door, a group of guys drove by in a truck and yelled out the window at Boyfreind “I want to do your wife!” This made me happy for 2 reasons. One, I am hot (I have been losing weight) and two, we look solid as a couple to other people. After spending sometime at the bookstore we begin the walk home. The bay was shinning in the moonlight and the capitol building was all lit up and I just thought “I could live like this and be happy.” Then a Friend of Boyfreind called to invite us to poker night. We went, Boyfreind won, I drank a lot (again) and our host graciously took the sofa so we could sleep in his bed and not have to drive home.
Sunday~
We woke up at 11. We went to Boyfreind’s house where he made me lunch and then he got ready to go to the wedding of an old friend of mine with me. We went to Target (I love Target) to buy a wedding gift. Then I went to my Mom’s house to have her take in the dress I wanted to wear. My sister was there and so was my dog. The dog has apparently gained some notoriety in the community. My sister said that while she was enjoying the sun and some coffee at Tully’s she was approached my 6 different groups of people to admire the dog. One of which recognized him from the record store on Saturday. Another of which was attending the same wedding as me latter that night. I did my make up while my Mom finished my dress then Boyfreind came to get me and we went to Target again (I love Target) to buy me new shoes.
The wedding was beautiful and extremely well done. The reception was TONS of fun. I found out that M (who has been my friend since 3rd grade) and her longtime boyfriend are now engaged. I danced with Boyfreind. I threw my diet out the window and had great food and cake. I drank champagne. Finally, in a obviously planned orchestration of efforts on the part of at least 10 of my friends, I ended up with the bouquet. We didn’t get home until late and went to seep happy on all fronts.
Friday~
After work I called Boyfriend. He was at my house waiting for me! When I got home we took Taj to the park for over an hour. After that, Taj and I went over to T’s house. I was supposed to take her to pick up her brand new car (they were installing a sunroof). They did not have her car yet but I did get to go to the Subaru dealership and check out all the 06 models of all the cars I want. After that it was back to the house to get ready for a night out with Boyfreind’s work friends. I had never met these people before so I called in reinforcements. That way if they were boring or annoying I would still have someone to talk to. My cousin N came with us. He is a little younger than me and kind of a looker so going out with him is lots of fun. He can drink, he is modest and I have no fear that he is just trying to get in my pants. We had fun with the work friends but moved the party to the neighborhood bar to meet up with Aarwenn, TheBoy, and another friend of theirs and mine. I had too much to drink and had a good time. Strangely, I realized that going “out” is no longer really my thing. I think I would have had more fun for less money inviting everyone over for drinks. Its comforting to know that as my lifestyle is outgrowing the party, party, party mode, so are my tastes.
Saturday~
I got up and Boyfriend made me breakfast of French toast with real maple syrup and a fruit smoothie. My sister and I cleaned the whole house. I ran errands and then went on a gorgeous fall day walk with Aarwenn and the Dogs (also one of the highlights of my weekend). We went to Starbucks, a newish record store, and a pet boutique. All some of my favorite things to do! And all of those stores save Starbucks allow dogs inside! I canceled a Sushi Party dinner with friends to go hang out in Oly with Boyfreind. We took a walk at sunset (that’s 2 walks in one day for me!) another highlight of my weekend. We ended up at one of our favorite bookstores and as we were walking up to the front door, a group of guys drove by in a truck and yelled out the window at Boyfreind “I want to do your wife!” This made me happy for 2 reasons. One, I am hot (I have been losing weight) and two, we look solid as a couple to other people. After spending sometime at the bookstore we begin the walk home. The bay was shinning in the moonlight and the capitol building was all lit up and I just thought “I could live like this and be happy.” Then a Friend of Boyfreind called to invite us to poker night. We went, Boyfreind won, I drank a lot (again) and our host graciously took the sofa so we could sleep in his bed and not have to drive home.
Sunday~
We woke up at 11. We went to Boyfreind’s house where he made me lunch and then he got ready to go to the wedding of an old friend of mine with me. We went to Target (I love Target) to buy a wedding gift. Then I went to my Mom’s house to have her take in the dress I wanted to wear. My sister was there and so was my dog. The dog has apparently gained some notoriety in the community. My sister said that while she was enjoying the sun and some coffee at Tully’s she was approached my 6 different groups of people to admire the dog. One of which recognized him from the record store on Saturday. Another of which was attending the same wedding as me latter that night. I did my make up while my Mom finished my dress then Boyfreind came to get me and we went to Target again (I love Target) to buy me new shoes.
The wedding was beautiful and extremely well done. The reception was TONS of fun. I found out that M (who has been my friend since 3rd grade) and her longtime boyfriend are now engaged. I danced with Boyfreind. I threw my diet out the window and had great food and cake. I drank champagne. Finally, in a obviously planned orchestration of efforts on the part of at least 10 of my friends, I ended up with the bouquet. We didn’t get home until late and went to seep happy on all fronts.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Oh Taj! I pine for you as I once Pined for "Holiday Shimmer Barbie"!
I miss my dog. I have been home from Hawaii for a few days now but I really miss my dog. I have not unpacked, I have not gone grocery shopping (which I desperately need to do), I have not done laundry or dishes, and I definitely have not talked to my dog. He is not ignored. He gets plenty of attention from my sister and all of her friends. My Cousin brought his dog, yogi (a stout little puff ball of a mutt whom I love) over to play with my dog Taj but I was only there for ½ hour.
When I get up and let Taj out and feed him I can tell. When I come home after work with only enough time to change and go to the gym for my appointment with Trainer, I can tell. When I get home from the gym and am so tired I just make dinner and shower before collapsing into bed, I can tell. He knows that I miss him. He is waiting for me to have time for him. He seems to regard me with the sad sincerity of a child comforting their distraught parent. “I know” he says when really he has no clue.
Yesterday when I came home he was so happy to see me. He jumped up and down in place and did spin moves as he ran to the back door. When I let him out and did not accompany him but rather went to change for the gym he followed me back inside. He followed me up the stairs and while I looked for some gym shorts, he collapsed on his dog bed in the corner, expelling a huge sigh as if to say “I know, you are busy. Its fine, I will just lay here until you have time to be my friend.”
So I miss my dog. I miss him more than when I was gone. Its like the time I was in the 3rd grade and my aunt bought me this collectors edition Barbie. We did not have such toys. We always got “Tropical Fun Barbie” who came in a swim suit and cost $4.99. “Peaches and Cream Barbie” was simply out of our league. So when I got “Holiday Shimmer Barbie” for Christmas all I wanted to do was take her out of the box and feel the sparkling shining dress and look at her especially over the top make up and hair, up close. But my mom said I had to call my aunt and ask her if I could open the box. I remember thinking that I had never heard of such a ridiculous requirement. Who bought you a Christmas gift and expected it to stay in the box? Well apparently my aunt did. She told me it would be worth something someday if I left it in the box. At the time I was disappointed but I wanted to do the right thing so my mother put it on top of my wardrobe and Barbie smiled at me everyday. She knew that I wanted to free her. She was disappointed in my decision but understood. She waited patiently and about 2 weeks latter I told my mom that I didn’t care how much she would be worth; I wanted to play with my toy.
The beautiful sparkling, shining dress fell apart and her over the top hair became frizzy and tangled. Aside from the emerald green eye shadow (all the others had varied shades of blue) she was indistinguishable from all the “Tropical Fun” Barbie’s in no time.
The point is that my dog looks at me with that knowing smile because he can tell that I REALLY REALLY want to play with him. And he knows I will. The second point is that it is not only white trash to buy Barbie’s as collector’s items; it is also cruel to give them to children. It is much healthier to give them a dog.
When I get up and let Taj out and feed him I can tell. When I come home after work with only enough time to change and go to the gym for my appointment with Trainer, I can tell. When I get home from the gym and am so tired I just make dinner and shower before collapsing into bed, I can tell. He knows that I miss him. He is waiting for me to have time for him. He seems to regard me with the sad sincerity of a child comforting their distraught parent. “I know” he says when really he has no clue.
Yesterday when I came home he was so happy to see me. He jumped up and down in place and did spin moves as he ran to the back door. When I let him out and did not accompany him but rather went to change for the gym he followed me back inside. He followed me up the stairs and while I looked for some gym shorts, he collapsed on his dog bed in the corner, expelling a huge sigh as if to say “I know, you are busy. Its fine, I will just lay here until you have time to be my friend.”
So I miss my dog. I miss him more than when I was gone. Its like the time I was in the 3rd grade and my aunt bought me this collectors edition Barbie. We did not have such toys. We always got “Tropical Fun Barbie” who came in a swim suit and cost $4.99. “Peaches and Cream Barbie” was simply out of our league. So when I got “Holiday Shimmer Barbie” for Christmas all I wanted to do was take her out of the box and feel the sparkling shining dress and look at her especially over the top make up and hair, up close. But my mom said I had to call my aunt and ask her if I could open the box. I remember thinking that I had never heard of such a ridiculous requirement. Who bought you a Christmas gift and expected it to stay in the box? Well apparently my aunt did. She told me it would be worth something someday if I left it in the box. At the time I was disappointed but I wanted to do the right thing so my mother put it on top of my wardrobe and Barbie smiled at me everyday. She knew that I wanted to free her. She was disappointed in my decision but understood. She waited patiently and about 2 weeks latter I told my mom that I didn’t care how much she would be worth; I wanted to play with my toy.
The beautiful sparkling, shining dress fell apart and her over the top hair became frizzy and tangled. Aside from the emerald green eye shadow (all the others had varied shades of blue) she was indistinguishable from all the “Tropical Fun” Barbie’s in no time.
The point is that my dog looks at me with that knowing smile because he can tell that I REALLY REALLY want to play with him. And he knows I will. The second point is that it is not only white trash to buy Barbie’s as collector’s items; it is also cruel to give them to children. It is much healthier to give them a dog.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
George and I agree? This IS a disaster!
Last night, for the first time ever, I agreed with George W. Bush. I was watching coverage of the hurricane clean-up/rescue efforts while doing my cardio at the gym and the president was talking about what the next steps for these efforts would be on the part of the national government. Some reporter asked him how he planed on addressing accusations that the appointment of the current FEMA director was not based on qualifications but on bureaucratic nepotism and payoffs. The president responded by saying that there would be plenty of time to play the blame game but right now they were going to focus on relief efforts.
I understand that this was probably just his way of dodging some legitimate concerns and when it does come time to play the blame game I will have a lot to say but for right now I agree. This is a natural disaster and if an earthquake had devastated the Seattle metro area I would be enraged that the news coverage wanted to discuss the ins and outs of WHY things are falling apart instead of HOW to put things back together.
I understand that this was probably just his way of dodging some legitimate concerns and when it does come time to play the blame game I will have a lot to say but for right now I agree. This is a natural disaster and if an earthquake had devastated the Seattle metro area I would be enraged that the news coverage wanted to discuss the ins and outs of WHY things are falling apart instead of HOW to put things back together.
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