My 4th of July plans have changed alot in the past few days. my Father and my Fiance are going to climb Mt. Olympus and they leave at 4:30 AM tomorrow. Because I have to work on Monday I cant go with them and I had planned on going east of the mountains to this ridiculous fake Bavarian mountain town, Leavenworth with 2 of my friends. Not only do they have a giant maypole and men in laderhosen, but some of the states best rock climbing is scattered all around it. Then my dog held me a hostage with his big brown eyes and made me give all my money to the vet for his ear infection so suddenly a girls weekend climbing extravaganza was out of my price range. To add insult to injury, 2 of the 3 people who buy me things when I am broke (my Dad and my Fiance, Hi Guys!) are going to be gone. Therefore I will be hanging out with the last person who will buy me things when I am broke (my Mother, I love you Mama!) all weekend. Mainly I will be attending hokey annual festivals that I have no excusse for absolutly loving the way I do. There are 2 big ones every 4th of July weekend in Tacoma and they are pretty silly.
One , named "The Taste of Tacoma" is just an excuse to gain 20 lbs in a few hours. You walk around paying 2 bucks a pop for a mouthful of whatever at about 200 stands put up by local restaurants. Then you go lay in the sun and yell at your dog not to eat food off the ground because he has food allergies and his vet bills are killing you. There are rides and crafty BS for sale and about 12 radio stations broadcasting live. When you can't stand the 80's cover band and their terrible Stevie Nicks wannabe back up singer and tambourine "artist" anymore, you walk a few miles back to your car and go home to feel sick. It is awesome.
The second is actually called the "Freedom Fair" and was called that before 9-11. It is only on the 4th of July and takes up the whole waterfront. it is more or less the same idea as the Taste of Tacoma but in a line instead of on a lawn. They have a beer garden every few blocks and there is always a stage sponsored by some local something. They will have Uncle Sam on stilts or a not so funny local comedian. Perhaps a not so funny local comedian dressed as Uncle Sam on stilts. Then at midnight there is a war. The fireworks start but that is not the real attraction. The real attraction is the 2 other fireworks shows can be seen from the waterfront and Tacoma must win. Seattle and Browns point both are visible and they both have more money that us. Still, every year we have a bigger barge or a longer show or something to try and out compete them. When the show is over you realize you are a bit wasted and sun burnt and the dog got scared and pissed on your shoe, which may or may not have been a sandal and you still have to walk a few miles to the car.
All in all it will be a full weekend full of fullness. And maybe full of sun (pray to the tempermental Washington could Gods to stay far far away) and also maybe full of Target's boxed wine.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Here comes the Bride (zilla)
Today is approximately 500 days before my wedding. 500 days is along time and I am by nature a procrastinator so one would think that perhaps I would be in the “I’ll think about it latter” mindset. You would, however, be incorrect.
I am not the type of person who has had her wedding planned since birth. I am not the type of person who has a strong opinion on the subject of cake toppers. I am however, a planner. I plan. It is what I do. And so this new project (aka “the wedding”) has kind of violently invaded all the mental space in my head. That may not be much real estate to begin with but it is all we have folks.
I think I am being pretty flexible about things. The date, the clothing, the photography, the size of the guest list, the menu, even the officaint are all subjects I have very little opinion on. The venue, however, became singularly important to me. I saw on a photographer’s website (hey, I like research) the most beautiful ballroom EVER and now I want it. I want it bad.
The problem is that it is currently under renovation. All the reports I found on Google said it would reopen in 2007 so I think “Sweet” it should be open by October or November right? But there is no contact info anywhere. Finally after several searches I find a number which I call. The mail box is full so I am transferred to an operator who transfers me to a catering company where I leave a message which they don’t return. So I track down the catering company online and send them an e-mail. I get this in return.
We are not taking reservations for the Dome Room until we get a firm date. It is not set to open until end of 2007 beginning 2008.
We do have the Fairview Club which we are taking reservations for now. It is gorgeous! There are pictures on the website. Please let me know if you would like to see the space.
And my first reaction is “No I don’t want to see the f-ing Fairview club!” at which point I realize that I have a major problem.
“Hello, my name is T-Town and I have a problem; I am becoming Bridezilla”
So now we have
5 million details to think about
5 thousand Dollars to save up
5 hundred days to go and
5 very good indicators that I will not make it out of this as a decent person.
If at any time it appears as though I might bite someone and spread the infection please shoot me. You will be doing me, my loved ones and the world a huge favor.
I am not the type of person who has had her wedding planned since birth. I am not the type of person who has a strong opinion on the subject of cake toppers. I am however, a planner. I plan. It is what I do. And so this new project (aka “the wedding”) has kind of violently invaded all the mental space in my head. That may not be much real estate to begin with but it is all we have folks.
I think I am being pretty flexible about things. The date, the clothing, the photography, the size of the guest list, the menu, even the officaint are all subjects I have very little opinion on. The venue, however, became singularly important to me. I saw on a photographer’s website (hey, I like research) the most beautiful ballroom EVER and now I want it. I want it bad.
The problem is that it is currently under renovation. All the reports I found on Google said it would reopen in 2007 so I think “Sweet” it should be open by October or November right? But there is no contact info anywhere. Finally after several searches I find a number which I call. The mail box is full so I am transferred to an operator who transfers me to a catering company where I leave a message which they don’t return. So I track down the catering company online and send them an e-mail. I get this in return.
We are not taking reservations for the Dome Room until we get a firm date. It is not set to open until end of 2007 beginning 2008.
We do have the Fairview Club which we are taking reservations for now. It is gorgeous! There are pictures on the website. Please let me know if you would like to see the space.
And my first reaction is “No I don’t want to see the f-ing Fairview club!” at which point I realize that I have a major problem.
“Hello, my name is T-Town and I have a problem; I am becoming Bridezilla”
So now we have
5 million details to think about
5 thousand Dollars to save up
5 hundred days to go and
5 very good indicators that I will not make it out of this as a decent person.
If at any time it appears as though I might bite someone and spread the infection please shoot me. You will be doing me, my loved ones and the world a huge favor.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Heat Wave : Creative ways in which to kill things
The greater Seattle-Tacoma metropolitan area is having a heat wave. It has been in the 80s all weekend; we are on smog watch; there is a heat advisory out for today and tomorrow because temperatures will be in the mid 90s. Much like a handful of snowflakes, full sun exposure can close down the entire region. We are so used to our little could of temperate weather that panic ensues once the temperature ventures out of the 50 to 70 range.
Case in point: I am convinced my dog is going to die. He will be baked and burnt like forgotten loaf banana bread in the oven that is my apartment. All my furniture will be singed and the water out of the toilet will evaporate completely.
There is no good reason for me to have this terrible vision haunting me all day. I left the windows cracked and the blinds shut. I gave him plenty of water. Still I am worried. You see Taj is the singular success story in my long list of attempting to care for things. Every plant, cat, fish, rodent, turtle, bird or imaginary friend left in my care has died inexplicably and usually in a bizarre sick fashion. So now I present to you the “Supper Countdown of the Top Three Ways in Which Things I Have Been In Charge of Have Died.” Because we all like lists and lists are better when they are backwards (countdowns). It creates a false sense of suspense.
3. I had 2 fish who hated each other and one rammed the other one to death.
2. My turtle was found 100% dried out, attempting to climb into her water bowl which was empty.
And the very worst . . .
1. My gerbils (named Chewy and Gooey) ate one another. Actually Gooey ate Chewy’s foot so Chewy ate Gooey’s insides. They both died.
Therefore I am going to have my Mother drive all the way out to Lakewood/ University Place to pick up my keys and take the dog to her house. Although come to think of it, I inherited my propensity for forgetting things in the oven from her. Maybe I should call my Dad.
Case in point: I am convinced my dog is going to die. He will be baked and burnt like forgotten loaf banana bread in the oven that is my apartment. All my furniture will be singed and the water out of the toilet will evaporate completely.
There is no good reason for me to have this terrible vision haunting me all day. I left the windows cracked and the blinds shut. I gave him plenty of water. Still I am worried. You see Taj is the singular success story in my long list of attempting to care for things. Every plant, cat, fish, rodent, turtle, bird or imaginary friend left in my care has died inexplicably and usually in a bizarre sick fashion. So now I present to you the “Supper Countdown of the Top Three Ways in Which Things I Have Been In Charge of Have Died.” Because we all like lists and lists are better when they are backwards (countdowns). It creates a false sense of suspense.
3. I had 2 fish who hated each other and one rammed the other one to death.
2. My turtle was found 100% dried out, attempting to climb into her water bowl which was empty.
And the very worst . . .
1. My gerbils (named Chewy and Gooey) ate one another. Actually Gooey ate Chewy’s foot so Chewy ate Gooey’s insides. They both died.
Therefore I am going to have my Mother drive all the way out to Lakewood/ University Place to pick up my keys and take the dog to her house. Although come to think of it, I inherited my propensity for forgetting things in the oven from her. Maybe I should call my Dad.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
France Sent Me an Earthquake This Morning
My new neighbors moved in a few weeks ago. The two good looking, fast talking men my age are cousins. They are originally from West Africa but grew up in Paris. Although we spent one evening getting to know each other, their complete refusal to believe I will not leave my boyfriend for one of them and their intense love of Celine Dion has kept us from becoming friends.
Now, despite the fact that I grew up in this pre-war duplex, the distinct lack of neighbors for 9+ months helped me to forget that there is really no sound insulation between the two sides. So when my neighbors moved in I was shocked. I was shocked about how loud it sounded when they walked up and down the stairs. I was shocked that the French language could be so loud and obnoxious. I was shocked at their bad taste in music and their propensity to foist it upon me at 6:30 every morning. But the most shocking thing of all happened this morning.
I have become accustomed to the wailing noise of bad and usually out of date chick music blasting though my bedroom wall at 6:30 sharp. Usually I roll around and whine about it to my dog for 15 min before giving up and getting into the shower where I will be able to hear a west African man with a French accent singing Brandy’s “I Wanna be Down” in his own shower. Once I get out of the shower I try to ignore the shouting and chatter and door slamming that constitutes their morning routine. We tend to leave the house at the same time. They usually wave at me and then say dirty things to one another about me in French. No I don’t speak French but my best friend took two semesters of it sophomore year of high school and I think that qualifies me enough to know when someone is saying dirty things about me.
But this morning things were different. I woke up at 6:30 and there was no discernable noise at all coming from next door. Great! I thought, now I can go back to sleep and get up at 7 like I am supposed to. So I went back to sleep. Then at 6:48 someone on some soccer team in the world cup made a goal and all hell broke loose. I woke in a panic thinking I was being personally attacked by an earthquake. The whole house was swaying and the noise was deafening. Once I woke up a bit I thought the neighbors were perhaps holding an ultimate Cage Fighter Tournament in their living room. That seemed much more logical to my American mind than the idea that two men could get so worked up over a soccer goal that they literally knocked a picture off the wall in their neighbor’s house. Luckily it was not broken. Not so luckily, the World Cup, I have been told, is not over.
Now, despite the fact that I grew up in this pre-war duplex, the distinct lack of neighbors for 9+ months helped me to forget that there is really no sound insulation between the two sides. So when my neighbors moved in I was shocked. I was shocked about how loud it sounded when they walked up and down the stairs. I was shocked that the French language could be so loud and obnoxious. I was shocked at their bad taste in music and their propensity to foist it upon me at 6:30 every morning. But the most shocking thing of all happened this morning.
I have become accustomed to the wailing noise of bad and usually out of date chick music blasting though my bedroom wall at 6:30 sharp. Usually I roll around and whine about it to my dog for 15 min before giving up and getting into the shower where I will be able to hear a west African man with a French accent singing Brandy’s “I Wanna be Down” in his own shower. Once I get out of the shower I try to ignore the shouting and chatter and door slamming that constitutes their morning routine. We tend to leave the house at the same time. They usually wave at me and then say dirty things to one another about me in French. No I don’t speak French but my best friend took two semesters of it sophomore year of high school and I think that qualifies me enough to know when someone is saying dirty things about me.
But this morning things were different. I woke up at 6:30 and there was no discernable noise at all coming from next door. Great! I thought, now I can go back to sleep and get up at 7 like I am supposed to. So I went back to sleep. Then at 6:48 someone on some soccer team in the world cup made a goal and all hell broke loose. I woke in a panic thinking I was being personally attacked by an earthquake. The whole house was swaying and the noise was deafening. Once I woke up a bit I thought the neighbors were perhaps holding an ultimate Cage Fighter Tournament in their living room. That seemed much more logical to my American mind than the idea that two men could get so worked up over a soccer goal that they literally knocked a picture off the wall in their neighbor’s house. Luckily it was not broken. Not so luckily, the World Cup, I have been told, is not over.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Let Me Check My Calendar
When I first moved to my new department about a month ago, I was overwhelmed by how gorgeous my new work place was. A modern “green-built” building situated on a bluff over the sound in between the Narrows and Chambers Bay. The two long sides of the building are made almost entirely of windows looking out over the water with the Olympic Mountains in the background on one side and framing Mount Rainier floating above a field of wildflowers on the other.
I was impressed by the modern kitchen and spacious work areas. The individual climate controls and well equipped resource rooms amazed me. But in all of this razzle-dazzle I missed something utterly grotesque right next to my desk.
Next to a map of Pierce County just outside the entrance to my cube hangs this calendar of dog poop. On reason. No explanation. Just beautifully taken shots of steaming piles of dog shit waiting for me every morning.
I was impressed by the modern kitchen and spacious work areas. The individual climate controls and well equipped resource rooms amazed me. But in all of this razzle-dazzle I missed something utterly grotesque right next to my desk.
Next to a map of Pierce County just outside the entrance to my cube hangs this calendar of dog poop. On reason. No explanation. Just beautifully taken shots of steaming piles of dog shit waiting for me every morning.
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