Drudgery

It's amazing how quickly after being away, one settles back into the same old routine. Sadly, all of the unexciting tasks that were plaguing me before I left town last Sunday are here waiting for me now that I am back. I wonder if anyone lives a life absent of drudgery. Is there anyone who has managed to cut through all the crap and focus only on the important tasks, the tasks that improve the world and make you feel alive? Probably not.


Tradition

On Sunday morning, I will wake up early, shower, get dressed in something I think is cute and head to the plaza in Santa Fe for the annual July 4 Pancake Breakfast. I cannot remember a year when I didn't wake up early to walk around and see old friends and eat the spongy pancakes and greasy sausage links. My friend Britten's dad always plays in the band, my grandma always sits in the front row by the stage to watch the music, I always get a little too much sun. We walk up the side street with all the old cars parked along it and say things like, "Look how old this one is." and "I would totally want this car." We always act amazed even thought it's highly likely we've seen these same cars every other year at the pancake breakfast.

One year, not too long ago, I spent the morning walking around with a group of friends who had all gathered to see Carl, our friend who was undergoing chemo and would later die because of the tumor growing in his brain. But on that July 4th, Carl was very much alive. I still have a picture from that day tacked to my refrigerator. Smiling friends with arms around each other, posing in front of the puppet show booth -- my arm, linked around Carl's back. Sometimes, I try to look at that picture and remember what that year felt like at the pancake breakfast, what that hug in the picture felt like, but as with most things, the memory has faded and melted into all the other years that I spent July 4 on the plaza.

There is something both sad and comforting about traditions. The comfort comes from repetition and predictability. The sadness from change. Carl is no longer at the annual breakfast, neither is my grandfather, or the rabbi who used to get up on stage and dance like crazy. Other people have moved away and don't make it a priority to visit over the July 4 holiday anymore. The city built a big gazebo on the plaza instead of just erecting the metal bandstand that they used every year of my childhood. And so on.

But even though things are changing and there may be a year soon when I do something entirely different on the 4th of July and don't even think about the gathering I'm missing in Santa Fe, this year, I will be loyal. I will eat the pancakes and sausage. I will look at the old cars. I will visit my grandma in the front row and wish her a happy 82nd birthday. I will listen to the patriotic music, spend too much time in the sun, and remember who I am and where I came from.

Herding Cattle

In Washington D.C., where I was for the past four days for work, I saw an old friend who helped remind me of a few things. First, seeing Robbe reminded me how great reconnecting with old friends can be. Second, seeing him reminded me how much fun we used to have being geeks in computer labs and putting out the crazy magazine he invented in college. And maybe, most importantly, seeing Robbe reminded me to slow down.

What? You may ask. Slow down? Let me explain. Robbe is probably the one person on the planet that I know who has more plans and dreams than anyone. And he somehow seems to get everything done that he wants to. He wanted to start a magazine in college: done. He wanted to start a company that designs websites: done. Wanted to be in an improv group: done. And so on. Naturally, I am incredibly impressed and had just assumed that he had somehow limitless energy and never slept.

Over lunch yesterday, I was telling him how I often feel like I need to be doing more and fast so that I can accomplish all the things in life that I want to. He told me he'd heard a saying that helped him a lot:

"The fastest way to move cattle...is s l o w"

And for the first time in a while, I got to take a deep breath.
(thanks, Robbe)


Big Winner

Last year, when I attend the same conference, but it was in Seattle, and I was new to the credit union industry, I sat through the entire awards luncheon and watched people receive glass awards and I vowed to return this year and win at least one.

On Tuesday night, during this year's awards presentation (which included an open bar) I drank my whiskey and coke and hoped to win in one of the four categories I'd entered. I did not expect to win three first place awards and the Best in Show award. Note: I did not do all the work on my own. One of the first place awards (best logo design) was entirely for my co-worker and the other three awards were for projects we worked on together. But it was SO cool.

Coolness factors:
1) It's always cool to win recognition for something you've worked hard on
2) I like awards
3) New Mexico never wins awards at these things and we won four
4) I became famous among the conference people and ended up talking to a lot of attendees I may not have otherwise talked to.

Not so cool:
Carrying home four heavy glass things on the airplane.


Communication, Baby

It was absolutely wonderful to be surrounded by 30 people from across the country who do my exact same job. It was great to see friends I made last year and also great to make new friends.

Being with the credit union association communications people was a bit like being with my writer friends at Bennington in that we are all obsessed with the same things.

For example: Ten otherwise hip people in their 20s and 30s were at a restaurant in Washington D.C. on a recent night proofreading the menu.

I can't wait until next June.

Miracle

We found her. Just when we were completely without hope and my parents had closed the garage door and I was about to slip on a dress for my friend Rachel's wedding rehearsal, we got a phone call. Animal control had a little dog with a red collar and a pink heart tag and they couldn't get close enough to read it, but they thought it was our dog. My heart jumped in my throat, I threw on some jeans and we flew out the door. My mom drove and Neil had the leash and pet carrier in the backseat. I tried to will the lights to turn green and my mom's foot to press harder on the gas pedal. We could not get there fast enough for me.

Animal Control is on the side of the animal shelter in Santa Fe. We got there and went in to find a room full of Animal Control officers and a woman on the floor with her back to us. In her lap, was our little dog. She was covered in burrs. There was not one part of her body that was white. She had burrs on her legs, her face, her tail...but when she saw us, she started wagging her tail. The Animal Control people helped us shave her to get all the burrs off and the shaving revealed lots of little cuts on her body. Her nose was dry and she seemed in pain but she was so happy that we were there and that the prickly burrs were being removed that she was calm while two people with electric clippers shaved her and I stroked her head to comfort her. Neil took her to the vet where she got checked out and stitched up and I went to the last few minutes of the wedding rehearsal.

Somebody had found Barbie in their backyard drinking their dogs' water. She was growling to keep the dogs away from the dish and was just drinking it like crazy. The man at the house could not get close enough to her to read her tag because she kept growling so he called animal control. We went to his house to thank him yesterday which felt really good. We also gave him $100 which he was reluctant to take, but said he'd donate to the animal shelter.

I still can't believe we have Barbie back. She looks like a mangy junkyard dog right now, but she's still adorable and she's started licking us again and all I can say is that it's a miracle. I don't often use that word and usually I don't think I believe in "miracles". But having my little five-pound dog home and alive after she was missing for five days during the heat of New Mexico summer with all the coyotes and hawks that live in Santa Fe definitely constitutes a miracle. There is no other word for it.

Wedding

Rachel and Brian's wedding was perfection. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. It made me cry. I felt pretty in my bridesmaid dress. The band was great. Everybody danced. The food was yummy. The flowers were awesome (oh how I wish I remembered to take my bouquet home). The cake was to die for. We didn't have to pose for too many pictures. We stayed till the end and wanted more. And two of my most favorite people got married. What an amazing couple. Oh, and it hailed for about five minutes... huge marble-sized hail in New Mexico in June...you can't get cooler than that.

Gone

As if my weekend could stand to get any worse. After Neil hurt his foot Saturday and we spent three hours in the emergency room and he had to get crutches and be in pain and my heart ached for him, on Sunday, Barbie got out of my parents' backyard and got scared and bit my dad really hard when he tried to catch her and then she ran away.

I searched in the open space behind my parents' house for five hours Sunday. I was wearing sandals and my feet became coated in stickers and thorns. My skin got burnt in the sun. My voice went hoarse from calling "Barbie" over and over and over again. We hung up signs, we knocked on doors. We talked to every person we saw. Nobody had seen her or heard her. None of the walkers with large dogs had noticed their dogs sniffing or barking. She was gone.

Yesterday, we went back and searched some more. Nothing. We have an ad in the paper. My dad has been to the pound. He's called animal control. He's put posters all over the neighborhood. Nothing.

My heart is broken. Wiley keeps looking for his sister and he's not eating. Neil is not only hobbling around on his hurt foot, but I think he is even sadder than he's letting on. I miss Barbie. I miss her sense of humor, her enthusiasm, her affection, the way she licked my face like crazy every morning when I woke up and when I moved her away from my face, she licked Neil's instead. I don't know how to make Wiley happy again and I feel terrible that he is at home alone right now while I am at work.

I keep hoping that my phone will ring and someone will tell me they found her and she's fine and that I can come pick her up. But nobody has called. I keep hoping she'll show up in my parents' garage and drink the water and eat the food we put out for her... but the food is still there and the water bowl is full.

More About Rebecca

I found better links for my friend who died last weekend. Picture. Article.

Business

Today, tomorrow and Saturday, I will be working at my company's annual convention. 250 people in the industry will be arriving at the convention hotel today and then they will expect to be shown a good time. I am one of 11 people here to show them that good time. I have to dress business-like and act business-like and be business-girl. Tomorrow, we're going to a baseball game and I don't even think I can wear my traditional jeans and t-shirt to the game... augh. Business...

Sometimes, when I'm in the thick of it, going to meetings, picking up guest speakers from the airport, expressing my opinions on the importance of some new initiative or another, I think to myself, "I can keep doing this and some day I can be CEO or something and get paid a lot of money."

When I have my senses returned to me I think, "I have got to find a way to spend more of my time being creative and less of my time wearing suits."

Here's to three days of business.

Wish me luck.

Dead

Ronald Reagan died last weekend. Despite being an avid Democrat, I used to love Ronald Reagan. I had Reagan stickers when I was little and I idolized him. Perhaps it had something to do with my being so young that I had not yet developed a political consciousness. I just knew that you were supposed to look up to the president -- and he had a nice face and kind manner.

Because of my childhood adoration, I am unable to judge his presidency without bias. But whether he was good or bad or someplace in between, it is sad that he is gone.


Worse news came last night when I learned that a family friend killed herself over the weekend. To the younger and less self-assured person (me), Rebecca seemed to have it all. She worked as a writer for a magazine, had dated a member of the Chicago cubs, was skinny, beautiful, funny, fun to be around, kind, had an amazing family, lit up the room when she walked in...I wish she could have seen herself the way I saw her. I wish she was still alive. I hope her family finds strength to get through this. I wish there was something I could say, but as is sometimes the case, words fail.

It's Hot

On Saturday, we went to visit my family in Santa Fe. We took the dogs and hung out at my parents' house for a BBQ lunch. My brother is home for the summer and he and my dad are home alone while my mom visits family in Michigan. Lunch was good. My dad bought special salmon that you can only get three weeks a year from some famous river I've never heard of and it was delicious. We all sat and talked in the backyard for a while after lunch while my brother tried to get a screen door to fit on the outside door to his bedroom. Sawdust was flying all over the patio in the wind and Buffy, the Labrador retriever, tried to eat it. My dogs kept barking at Buffy and nipping at him. It was one big happy gathering. But then we went inside. First Dustin was on one couch, then Neil was on another and my dad was in the recliner and I found myself splayed out on the floor, resting on a big turtle pillow, flanked by two little dogs. It must have been 2:30. The next thing we knew it, it was 5.

There is something inherently unsatisfying by a heat-induced nap and I think it's that when you wake up it's no cooler than it was before you fell asleep. However, the nap was not without its merits. There is something very cool about napping with company. Whether it's just me and Neil napping or whether it's a group nap like we had on Saturday...even though everyone was sleeping, when we woke up it felt as though we had shared something. We were all guilty of mid-afternoon laziness. It was much more satisfying than waking up from a nap alone and feeling like you are the only one who slept the day away. Group napping alleviates the guilt of the nap. It normalizes it. Napping in groups makes napping ok.

Clearly I have given this a bit too much thought...

It's going to be a hot summer and I foresee more naps in my future -- hopefully, when I nap, I will have company.

The Backyard

Last night, I spent a lovely two hours in the backyard. It was just me and my two dogs taking in the sunset and early twilight. I sat in the lounge chair and noticed the temperature change from hot to warm. When the crickets started chirping, Wiley and Barbie went hunting for them, but gave up quickly when their noses hit the rock wall that the bugs must have been hiding beneath.

I chatted on the phone with several different friends and even conversed briefly with my dad. I read the mail, mostly junk. And saw the moon come up above my house full and bright.

Two hours passed.

Then I saw Neil through the sliding glass door. He opened the door for me and I FINALLY got to go inside.

Yep, that's right, my backyard adventure was more along the lines of backyard exile. Brilliant Jodi locked herself and the dogs out of the house. I had a key to the mailbox, the back gate, my grandma's house, my parents' house and my office. But I was mysteriously missing my house key, my garage door key and my car key.

It had been a while since I'd spent so much time just existing outside. I have been walking and bike riding, but not just sitting. While, I was thoroughly annoyed at my stupidity and desperately wanted to get indoors, I also enjoyed my time outdoors. I watered the trees, smelled their flowers and actually relaxed since there was nothing else I could do.

Errand for the weekend: Invest in a spare key. Find a good hiding spot.

Iowa

In Iowa, they don't put fences up in the backyards. Instead, everyone's yard is one big lawn for little kids to play on. This is the main thing I noticed about Iowa while there for four days last weekend. There are rolling hills, lots of green, and communal backyards, save one or two yards with fences -- but the fence owners look like the party poopers.

Iowa is quiet and farm-filled and I imagine it being a very nice place to grow up or to raise a family, but I'll take my desert life over a life in Iowa any day.

Wedding

I was in the great state of corn fields and The Iowa Writers Workshop with a higher purpose. I went to wear a little pink dress and stand up in Jenn's wedding. The wedding was beautiful. Jenn had thought of everything and even the place cards, with little dance steps printed on them, were perfect. My roll in the wedding (walking down the aisle, posing for pictures, attending events, smiling) went well. I think I fulfilled all the bridesmaid commitments. Even the shoes were more comfortable than I imagined and I ended up dancing more than I normally do at such occasions. Looking at the pictures that we had developed on Sunday, I didn't look particularly thin in the dress. I imagined myself to look a little better while I was wearing the dress... but oh well.

I got to see Patty and Sean which was awesome and great and worth every penny and any inconvenience. I also saw our friend Scott for a brief moment when he drove to the party from Chicago. Reuniting with old college friends was very good.

On our way home, we got stuck in Denver overnight after multiple delays and a mad dash through the Denver airport. It took us more than 24 hours to get home from the time we set foot in the Eastern Iowa Airport. At first I was really pissed and I thought it may not have been worth the trip. But thinking a little more rationally, I think the reconnecting with old friends made it worthwhile as did one moment on Saturday night:

Jenn and Bill's first dance was to a U2 song. Since I was seated at the head table, I had an excellent view. In the eight years I've known Jenn, I don't think I've ever seen her happier than she was during that dance. I don't know Bill very well and I haven't had the chance to see the two of them together much, but watching that dance and seeing the happiness radiate from them, I knew that my friend Jenn had made a really good choice in Bill. And knowing that made the whole weekend a success.

Baby

Neil's best friend and his wife had a baby this week. (on Monday night, I think) Neil's friend is the crazy type. In fact, my friends and I nicknamed him The Naked Sleeper, which we later learned was a misnomer, but still, it typifies him. He's a really wonderful person, just always a bit further to the wild side than most. Throughout the pregnancy, he has been calling Neil and blurting out bizarre baby facts. Usually they are along the lines of "Do you know they poop about 10 times a day!" So, I was a little concerned. But, Neil talked to him today and he said that having the baby is amazing. He held her for the first five minutes before his wife woke up (c-section) and the baby grabbed his finger and he said it was the coolest thing. I am really happy that he's so happy and I'm really excited for the Naked Sleeper, his wonderful wife and his new baby. I can't wait to meet her.

Dumbed Down

So, McDonald's has an adult happy meal. When I first heard this I thought it was a joke, a news bit from The Onion or something. But, the adult happy meals are the real deal. They come with a salad and a water (but what nobody tells you is that if you ask for Coke instead, they'll give it to you.) The meals also come with your own "stepometer" so you can count your steps each day and know whether you've taken enough to work off that Big Mac.

O.K. what was wrong with the previous sentence? If you said the word "stepometer" you are correct. What they are actually called, those little things that count your steps for you, are pedometers. I guess McDonald's thought that the word pedometer was too complicated and instead of taking the opportunity to teach the world a new word, they decided to make up their own word. Adults may be smart enough to know they should eat salads, not burgers.. but there's no way they'll know what pedometer means. The worst part of all this is that it took me a while to realize that the corporate drones had dumbed down their happy meal prize. My co-worker showed me her stepometer and I found myself thinking, "Stepometer? Isn't it called something else? What is it called? Hmm... I guess it is a stepometer." Not only is McDonald's pandering to the small-vocabulary customers, but they're confusing the ones with bigger vocabularies. They are singlehandedly changing the English language with their stupid stepometers.

To top it off, the little contraptions don't work. They count two steps for every one you take. Come to think of it, this could be a ploy to keep Americans fat. Yes, I will admit that I had an adult happy meal last week and the cobb salad was pretty tasty. But now that I've been dumbed down by McDonald's, I won't be having another one.

The Gas Station

Yesterday, my gas light came on. I had been doing my best to save gas in the hopes that the prices would go down and I could avoid wasting money feeding the Republican oil machine...but I had to break down and go to the gas station. I went to Chevron because it was on my way back to work after lunch. I got out, put my card in the card reader and started pumping when a loud noise blared at me from speakers in the gas pump. I jumped a foot in the air and whirled around to see that there was a little TV screen playing the news.

First thought: How cool that I can watch the news while pumping gas.
Realization: It's FOX news.
Next thought: Who owns Chevron and why are they shoving this conservative propaganda down my throat?

To make matters worse, a commercial for some glass cleaner came on almost instantly after my little TV turned on. As soon as the tank was full and the pump clicked off, the TV turned off so I didn't even get to finish watching the commercial. What if they had been in the middle of a really interesting news segment and it had clicked off? I think these little TVs are worse than no TV at all.

Oh, and then my gas bill was $22 and it used to cost around $14 to fill up my tank. Gotta love wars over oil.

Angel

Last night was the series finale of Angel. This is a bummer because that means next year I will end up watching something like The Bachelor religiously, having lost my favorite two shows (first Buffy and now Angel). I don't think I have ever been this into a television show since Doogie Houser.

The Angel finale was ok. But sort of disappointing because everything didn't wrap up perfectly. Everybody didn't live happily ever after and I don't like a whole lot of realism in my entertainment.

That guy who had his finger bitten off at the zoo

I was distraught last week when I couldn't link to the story about the zoo visitor whose finger was bitten off by a Jaguar at our zoo. Luckily, the story was so bizarre it made the CNN Offbeat News section. So, go here to read about it. Enjoy.

Iraq

I stumbled upon two Iraqi blogs recently. I think they're being kept by brothers, one of whom lives in Iraq and another, who seems to be living somewhere else in the middle east. Their mom is also keeping a blog, but it is in Arabic and my limited knowledge of Hebrew doesn't help me decipher it at all. Raed and Majid both seem like very intelligent individuals. They also seem like people I might be friends with. Majid's insights about the war and what is happening in his country are striking, especially since he's only 17.

Reading these blogs made me feel several ways. The overwhelming feeling I had was stregnthened conviction that the U.S. troops need to get out of Iraq as quickly as possible.
I also felt guilty that, while I think about the war quite a bit, it is not everpresent in my mind. I have only bloged about it once in a while. Raed and Majid are in the middle of war and they blog about it nearly every post. Another feeling I had while reading the blogs was sadness. Majid wrote about hearing tanks driving by his house in the middle of night and being terrified that he was about to be killed. He also wrote about a classmate who got up in the middle of an exam and asked why he was studying when he might be dead tomorrow. The fact is, the U.S. army, while they may not be trying to kill civilians, are killing and maiming far too many innocents. The country is too unstable and out of control for our army to be occupying it. We have provoked too much hatred to be successful leading the Iraqi people.

Majid wrote that the Iraqi people were going through an amazing time before the U.S. invasion, a renaissance of sorts, and they should have risen up against Saddam on their own. We can't know if and when the Iraqi people would have staged an uprising, but when you look at this war and realize it was not about WMD's and it wasn't about protecting the U.S. from terrorists and the only thing it could have been about was oil and Bush family revenge, it is even more depressing to realize that the one positive thing that could come of the war, a free Iraq without the Saddam dictatorship, is being shoved down the country's collective throat by people many of them view as bullies. We are not the knight on a white horse. Instead of peace and harmony, my country has brought instability to the country of Iraq and to the lives of its people. No wonder so many of them hate us.

It is so good to hear the voices of Iraqis without the filtering of the media. Iraqi blogs should be required reading for our foreign policy makers... (But not the president, he probably wouldn't read them since he doesn't even read the newspaper.)

Thanks Raed and Majid.

Monday Again

How did it become Monday again so quickly? Do you ever want to push the pause button? I think I saw an after school special once about a girl who could slow time and walk around in the world while everyone else was frozen in place. In order to accomplish everything I want to, I would like to have that talent. Maybe it would come in a locket or a super high-tech car stereo and when I pressed mute everyone else would slow down...

The Weekend

Sort of a quiet weekend. Neil was gone on Saturday and I took the dogs to a groomer who shaved too much fur off their butts so now they look a tad funny. Grr.

Sunday, Neil and I decided we wanted to do lots of things together before he had to go to work, so we woke up relatively early and went to brunch at Copelands, my formerly new favorite restaurant. They have a jazz brunch and we wanted to try it... but we got there too early for the jazz. My eggs benedict was delicious and Neil's french toast was good except that they didn't have any maple syrup and expected him to eat it with strawberry syrup which he hates. (totally bizarre to serve french toast with no syrup in the entire restaurant right?) But then we got in the car to go home and found ourselves utterly exhausted. We went home, let the dogs outside and then put them in bed with us and proceeded to nap until about 10 minutes before 2 when Neil jumped out of bed and went to work. We were utterly powerless and had to surrender to sleep. We have decided that there were sleeping pills in the food and that we will refrain from brunching there again. It's back to Sunday morning smoothies for us.

Lesson: Beware of making plans for Sunday after brunch.

Friday

It's Friday.

My friend Andy sent me a link today that made me a little sad. Basically it is a gossip column with an item about my old professor who is now dead. The item in the column is cute/funny and not at all offensive, but it reminded me of Lucy Grealy and what a fascinating/awe-inspiring/perfectly-imperfect person she was. It also reminded me of how sad it was to witness her falling apart from afar and how I wish I could have told her how she inspired me before she disappeared. Sometimes it's nice to feel a little sad about things worthy of sadness... if that makes any sense. (thanks for sending it Andy)

Disturbing things are afoot all over the world today. My ritual afternoon visit to cnn.com provided me with the following headlines: Castro leads huge anti-American march in Cuba; Running battles rage on the streets of Najaf; U.S. arrests dozens in child porn crackdown; Oil prices spurt to all-time high; British editor quits after abuse photos deemed fake

I was particularly struck by the Cuba article and the accompanying picture displaying Bush in a Hitler-style moustache next to signs with swastiks. What the hell is going on in this world?

To top off my day of bizarre news, the front page story on today's Albuquerque Journal has the following headline: Finger Found Near Zoo Cage. Apparently a man in his 50s who visits a jaguar everyday might have left a few digits behind. But he's denying it. WHY would you try to hide the fact that you got your hand eaten by a large zoo animal??? I think you may need a subscription to read this story, which is very unfortunate because it's really fascinating...

It's sunny and warm here and I'm looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I plan to avoid the news as much as possible.

Barbie and Wiley with a little more hair. Having dogs is so much fun. 

One of Those Days

Last night at 2:48 a.m. someone called Neil's cell phone. I didn't actually hear it ring, but I remember looking at the clock and hearing the dogs move around in their bed and wondering what was going on. For the rest of the night, I had restless sleep. I was worried that something else was going to wake me up, and thus, couldn't fall asleep.

At 7, my alarm went off and then I began the frenzy of taking dogs outside, hugging Neil, getting showered and dressed.... Right before I left, Barbie threw up outside which made me feel worried because this is the second time this week she's been sick in the morning. Ugh. I left with no breakfast and raced to work.

Then to top off the morning of calamity, Neil just called to tell me his sister was mugged last night at knifepoint which is absolutely terrifying and I really really really hope she's ok. Should I call her?

Aside from all the chaos, I'm still in a pretty good mood, the reason for which is beyond me...

Last night I watched the last ten minutes of American Idol (America clearly has hearing problems because they voted off the wrong girl, AGAIN) and the last 15 minutes of the Bachelor (such a spectacle...where do they find these girls???) and now I feel like I need to go read some Foucault to mend my brain cells... But maybe getting to work will help in that department...

Map

create your own personalized map of the USA

I had a map posted here, but it was too big and messed up the rest of my template so it has been removed) This is a map of all the states I have been to. It is way more impressive than I thought it would be. I thought I was severely lagging on seeing the country. But apparently, I have only 18 states to go. Then, on to conquer the world...

Free Rent

There was this 20-something couple in NYC and they were having a contest to see who would get to live at their apartment for six months for free. Plus, the lucky person would get a $5,000 stipend to offset the cost of moving to the city. All entrants had to do was write a 350-word essay about why they wanted to move to New York and mail it along with $69!!! to the couple. The contest was only going to be carried out if the couple got 3,000 entries... This means that after the $5,000 prize to the winner, the couple would be clearing $200,000 in entry fees. What an amazing scam! I wish I'd thought of that the summer my college roommates and I had the subletters from HELL in our super-cool Evanston apartment..

Unfortunately, it seems as though something went awry, because the contest has been called off... I thought it was too good to be true... I also thought my friend Sean could have totally won... but oh well... he'll have to wait for some other crazy New Yorker to hold a contest to find subletters.

The Bath

The weekend was good. Friday was an Isotopes game and we got free glow in the dark baseballs. Very cool. We also went to the game with our friends Ryan and Shea who are really really cool and it's nice to finally have a couple friend that we do things with fairly regularly. It's taken us a long time to become friends with them, but we really have a good time together. Maybe they'll be the Christina and Bobby of Albuquerque... (but never a Christina and Bobby replacement).

On Saturday, we took the dogs to visit my parents and grandma for an early mother's day. It was nice and relaxing, except for the 45 minutes during which my 6lb dogs decided it would be really fun to take on my parents' 75lb lab. They were so mean to him and he just put his tail between his legs because he didn't want to hurt them. My dad kept calling Wiley and Barbie terrorists and telling me that my "furry brother's" feelings were hurt, which made me feel sufficiently guilty.

Yesterday was a typical slow Sunday. Neil and I went to lunch and the server gave me a Mother's Day carnation...I didn't know if I should have taken it as a compliment or as an insult so I just took the flower home and put it in water.

Last night, I decided that the dogs needed a bath. After calling all over town and learning that groomers require you to leave your dog for four hours just for a bath and brushing, I determined that I would have to do it myself, so I went to Petsmart and bought shampoo for white dogs. Around nine I was finally finished with everything else I needed to do and I took the dogs in the bathroom with me, filled up the tub and did the bathing. First of all, the dogs looked like skinny rats when wet. Their hair went from white to see-through and their pink and brown spotted skin looked hilarious. In addition to looking funny, they were pissed. Also, I had no idea what I was doing. I read the grooming section in the Maltese magazine I bought a few weeks ago and tried following instructions, but it was a joke. Wiley jumped out of the tub at one point and shook all over the bathroom. I just sat there wondering what the hell I was doing with two dogs and furthermore, what possessed me to try to wash them. But once we got all the shampoo rinsed out and the two dogs started to dry off and forgive me for the ordeal, they turned into little white fluff balls. Their fur turned at least three shades lighter and four times fluffier. They must have been filthy. With their new clean coconut-scented coats, came really cheery attitudes and they started chasing me all over the house and jumping up and down. Then, magically, Wiley suddenly learned how to fetch the miniature tennis balls we got them a month ago. I had no idea how much joy watching a little dog learn to play catch could bring... or bathing a dog for that matter.

So the question is: Is my mothering instinct kicking in? Answer: maybe a little bit, but only for the dogs. No kids yet. I'm still a little too selfish for the next step.

Jealousy

When I was a student at The Bennington Writing Seminars, I had a professor named George Packer. He was, for the most part, kind and wise. His critiques of my writing were gentle, yet helpful. He encouraged me to become the best writer I could be, and while I am not there yet, I am on the path in part, because of George.

At the end of my final semester in grad school, I got my evaluation from George and it said something about how I was a good writer and had shown progress, but perhaps I was too young to be in the program in the first place. This is, of course, an oversimplification, but at the time, I cried and he changed the final evaluation to not say anything about his belief that I was just a little kid who didn't belong in a graduate writing program. While I am certain that he didn't mean to destroy me the night before graduation, that is pretty much the impact he had.

It has been about a year and a half since graduation, and I thought I had forgiven George Packer. I had mainly good thoughts about him on the rare occasions I thought about him, usually while writing or thinking about reporting. But last week my copy of Mother Jones came in the mail and his name was on the cover next to a headline about blogs: The Revolution Will Not Be Blogged. Sensing that this article was going to say something negative about blogging, an activity I have been participating in more and more, I cringed slightly. I also felt an unexpected twinge of the green monster(aaak I can't believe I just used that cliche) of jealousy. So, I waited a day to read the article and then plopped on my couch one evening and opened the magazine in hopes of liking the article. But I didn't. It wasn't even that it was so good I was jealous. It just wasn't very good. In November, George wrote an amazing article about Iraq for the New Yorker that any writer would be awed by...But this Mother Jones story about blogging was really disappointing.

While it wasn't terrible, it just didn't say anything terribly new. Everyone knows that blogging can be very insulated and is often very introspective. Even political blogs are often about riding on the campaign bus, or some other less interesting event than going door to door or making a campaign stop. And certainly being in Iowa during the primaries would be better than reading about the primaries on political blogs, but I would argue that being there would be better than reading about the primaries in the New Yorker as well. A blogger who went to Iowa is definitely more qualified to then blog about Iowa, but there is nothing about the nature of blogging that makes blogging and good reportage mutually exclusive.

It seemed to me that George was trying his best to write about something happening in pop culture and political culture right now, but he couldn't really diss blogs because he likes them. I don't think the people at Wonkette are aspiring to win a Pulitzer... It's a different genre, with a different intent and that made George's point unnecessary, invalid even. The goal of a political blog is usually not to be like the Washington Post. But if that were the goal, I have no doubt that some of the more astute bloggers could pull it off.

Whatever the case, I will continue to be a fan of my friend George... And it was nice to see that he is human and not everything he puts on paper (or in national magazines) is awe-inspiring.

Wiley and Barbie, the dogs we adopted. This is the photo of them in their rescue home when they didn't have any hair. 

Wires

I am wondering if going to the neighborhood park everyday and sitting underneath the power lines for five minutes with the dogs is going to come back to haunt me. The fact that I am wondering this is frustrating. Shouldn't we be able to live our lives without frequently fearing that whatever we are doing might eventually cause cancer?

Shame

I am so ashamed. For the past several days, the pictures of American soldiers abusing Iraqi prisoners have been everywhere. They scream out from newspaper pages and television screens. Last night it was while on the Precor at the gym that I was subjected to them. All I can feel when I think about that smug female soldier gamely posing for pictures that are now helping to cement her country's position as the enemy of the world is how ashamed I am to be an American.

It's not often that I allow myself to get swept up in nationalism or national sentiment. I don't usually feel anything as "an American". I feel things as Jodi, an individual who lives in the U.S. In fact, I am more apt to identify with being a New Mexican than and American. After the September 11 attacks, I was completely embarrassed when I found myself compelled to stop at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night to purchase an American flag...I had no idea that there was latent patriotism within me.

This doesn't mean that I don't love my country. I do. This also doesn't mean that I don't want to make my country better. I do. I follow politics avidly and vote regularly...I just don't often get sentimental about my nationality.

But right now, I feel ashamed and outraged as an American. It was bad enough that we were fighting a war that we started needlessly. It was bad enough that Americans and Iraqis were dying daily. But for stupid Americans to be committing war crimes and abusing prisoners while fighting an unjust war... and they took pictures!

How can we possibly expect to make friends with the Arab world if we behave like this? How can the president get on TV and preach about how inhumane terrorists are when some blond American chick is being shown on televisions across the world mocking naked prisoners of war? If we are also monsters, why should they cease to hate us?

Maybe those soldiers somehow believed that the prisoners represented all of the September 11 hijackers... maybe they thought that Arab men deserved to suffer humiliation because of what America has suffered. Maybe they're really nice people who got caught up in the ugliness of war. It is all possible, but I think that everyone responsible for the terrible acts in that prison should be held accountable not only for the acts themselves, but also for the severe damage those acts have done to the nation.

We went to Iraq with the "intention" of benevolently giving them a democracy and removing their evil leader. Yet, more than a year later, we are still in Iraq. We are killing people and, apparently, torturing prisoners. Some Iraqi citizens describe the American occupation as worse than living under Saddam. If this is how it's going to be, they say, they don't want democracy at all. (Did we even ask them if they wanted a democracy in the first place?)

Selfishly, I worry about what those torture pictures mean for me, an American and a Jew. Have I unwittingly become one of the most hated people in the world? Quite possibly. Should I pay for billboards in Arab countries to try to tell them that most of us don't hate them at all? (Americans and Jews) I want to tell them not to let a few bad apples shape their view of us. "Give us another chance," I want to say. But why should they?

We are in a dangerous time. We were already in a public relations quagmire just by being in this war. Now we are in quicksand and sinking rapidly. And as is so often the case, there is nothing I can do about it. But I can feel ashamed. And I do.

Half-Birthday

Happy half-birthday to me! Neil says it would be thrilling that today's my half-birthday if we celebrated half-birthdays... He may not celebrate them, but I do! So, I will go around feeling a little bit more special today because it's my half-birthday.

Camp Kamaji

A couple of weeks ago, the CEO and I were talking about something related to work when suddenly she mentioned her all-girls summer camp and I said:

"You didn't go to Camp Kamaji did you?"

To which she replied with a gaping mouth, wide eyes and a gasp.

She's probably the age of my parents, but yet we still have some very similar childhood memories of our camp and canoe trips in the Canadian Boundary Waters and the color tribes of Camp Kamaji.

Today, she brought in her sweater from camp with all the camp patches on it. By the time I was a camper there, patches had been phased out in favor of paper wallet-sized cards asserting that you had indeed passed on to the next level of sailing...

But how crazy is it that she grew up in the Midwest someplace and I in New Mexico and we both attended a girls camp in Minnesota!

It's always good to find commonalities with one's boss.

Commas

I hate commas. Not because I think they aren't useful, but because I can't seem to make myself learn how to use them. Sure, I have the basics down, but I often leave them out completely or put one too many when my sentences become more complicated... I have a journalism degree and an MFA in writing, but punctuation always manages to trip me up... so I was pleased this morning to learn that the nation's most hallowed newspaper ran this outstanding Op-Ed about how those punctuation sticklers should relax a little and let language change... ahh how refreshing..

Confession

O.K. I confess...I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up. I don't know where I want to live. I don't know what I want to do with my days. I am clueless. Is this ok? Am I defective? I'm playing at this grownup life, but I'm really terrified. I have vague ideas about my future:

*I want to be somewhere that I can be paid to write, or I want to be in the position where I don't need to be paid and I can write.

*I want to be with Neil.

*I want to be in a city with lots of young people, but I also don't want to live like a poor college student again. So, I would like to live in a house that happens to be in the middle of a hip urban area. (yeah right, right?)

*I want to have adventures. (foreign travel, outdoor activities etc.)

*I want to see everything.

*I want to make an impact.

*I want to be a part of my community.

But what does all that stuff add up to? I have no clue. Am I doing things right now that will help me get to wherever it is I want to be? I'm not sure.

In some ways, I am content in my job and my house and my little life here in NM, but in other ways, I am crawling out of my skin to be someplace/somebody that right now, I am not.

I want to have a settled little home with my bunny and my dogs. I want to curl up with Neil on cold nights and I want us to both be wearing slippers and flannel pj's. And yet, I want to be living in the center of it all, surrounded by life and energy.

How do I reconcile the homebody with the adventurer in me? How do I figure out what will ultimately make me happy?

Ahhh... Maureen...

Yesterday, on Neil's birthday, Maureen Dowd out did herself again with a brilliant column on Bushworld. The administration's alternate universe was laid bare in her column and again, I am so jealous! I could have written that! (If I were completely steeped in politics)

Here's a snippet in which she touches on the soldier remains issue I was steaming over last week:


April 25, 2004
OP-ED COLUMNIST
The Orwellian Olsens
By MAUREEN DOWD

It's their reality. We just live and die in it.

In Bushworld, our troops go to war and get killed, but you never see the bodies coming home.

In Bushworld, flag-draped remains of the fallen are important to revere and show the nation, but only in political ads hawking the president's leadership against terror.

In Bushworld, we can create an exciting Iraqi democracy as long as it doesn't control its own military, pass any laws or have any power.

In Bushworld, we can win over Falluja by bulldozing it.

More...

If only Maureen's columns were required reading for every American.

Neighborhood

More tales from the neighborhood.

On our walk yesterday, Barbie, Wiley and I met some kids in the park. I walk the dogs through the park every day so they can run on the grass and this was the first time we saw anyone there. At first I was concerned. The kids had a couple skateboards and a random collection of garden tools. "Vandals!" I thought as we approached. Two of the four kids were closer to the path we were walking on and they asked if they could pet my dogs. I made introductions and the kids started telling me about their dogs, current and deceased. They must have been about 10 or 11 years old and after talking to them for a few minutes, I realized that they were not the hoodlums I suspected them to be. Their two friends were working on something across the field and I asked them what they were doing in the park.

"We're building a baseball field," one of the boys said.

"Oh, cool," I said as I began to notice carefully placed mounds of sand in the grass that must have been the bases.

"Yeah, we built one before, but someone took it down," the other boy said. "It might have been the guy who mows the grass. We also built some skate ramps over there, but they took those down too."

I admired their sitck-to-it-ivness and told them I wished them luck on the baseball diamond.

Shortly thereafter, I continued my walk, passing out of the park and noticing the tallest boy using sidewalk chalk to construct a scoreboard on the rock wall bordering the park. As we passed them, I couldn't help but to giggle because it was impossibly cute that they were building a baseball field and because I could just imagine the conversation at the next neighborhood association meeting:

Secretary: "Agenda Item number one: Park vandals. Someone has been vandalizing the community park. Piles of sand were on the grass and the wall has been marked up with chalk."

President: "Clearly this is a serious issue and we need to get to the bottom of this. We need to find out who wants to harm our neighborhood and why..."

And so on...

Being pro-kid and very anti-neighborhood association, I did my part and encouraged them to build the field. That's what kids do and really, it's a pretty boring park. Two slabs of grass and a dirt path...A baseball diamond with sand for bases would be a big improvement. I hope it's all still there when I walk through this evening.

The Government is So Stupid

It makes absolutely no sense that the U.S. government is not allowing any images of bodies returning home from Iraq and Afghanistan to be shown in the news. When I first heard this, I imagined that they were shielding the public from gruesome images of mangled soldiers. But, no, the government actually doesn't want me to see flag-draped caskets. The government doesn't want me to even think about the fact that some soldiers are coming home dead.

Bravo to First Amendment activist, Russ Kick who filed a freedom of information request with the military and received hundreds of pictures from the largest military morgue which he then posted on his website. (and now some of them are on CNN's website)

The military argues that the families of the soldiers deserve to be the first to see them, but when there are dozens of matching caskets lined up in a room, isn't that more about making a statement than it is about me actually seeing these dead soldiers? I have no clue who is in each box and family members of the deceased don't know either, but isn't it important for us to see soldiers coming home just like we see them boarding planes and leaving? The government isn't protecting the soldiers' families, it's protecting its own ill-conceived war and keeping its citizens in the dark.

Thank goodness for Kick and Tami Silicio, a military contractor who took a picture of a casket being loaded into a cargo plane that was later published on the front page of The Seattle Times. Silicio got fired and Kick has prompted the military to crack down on information release, but at least there are finally a few pictures out there and since the military is making such a big deal about it, maybe even more people will see them.

Wind

Ok, so I just got out of my car after lunch and got pounded so hard by the wind that I almost had my breath knocked out of me. This should not happen. Maybe if I were on the top of a really tall mountain, I could understand, but in the parking lot of my office?

What's worse is that along with the pounding my body took, I also got a dust shower. Yummm.

Travel

Neil has been Mr. Jetset the past two weeks. He was in Alabama all weekend until Tuesday night and tomorrow he leaves at an ungodly hour to go to Washington D.C. Being home alone with the dogs and bunny wasn't so bad. I actually felt a lot less lonely than I usually do when Neil's gone. But, despite my appreciation of the companionship I get from my new family members, they really don't make up for Neil being gone. This, I think, is a very good thing. Pets should never serve as husband replacements.

Tired

I am so tired. I have literally been nodding off at my desk this morning which never happens to me anymore. I feel like I'm in my college sociology class. The one that was right after lunch... Augh...

It's Friday and it's super-sunny outside and I'm wearing sandals and I really really want to get up, go to my car, and head home.

Neighborhood

Now that I have dogs to walk after work, I have a reason to explore my neighborhood. Last night, I got home a little late and the sun was already beginning to set, but I took the dogs out to walk anyway. We walked on the edge of the neighborhood until we got to our subdivision park (built on the land under the power lines because nobody would want to live there). At the park, we turned onto the dirt path along the grass and started walking and then, the dogs discovered the grass. Barbie started sniffing and snorting and Wiley followed suit and then something magic happened. They both got really playful and started running... We sprinted back and forth and back and forth together. It was hilarious and I actually got a little exercise.

On our way home from the park, we cut through the neighborhood and came across a police officer pulling into his driveway. When we got to his car, he was getting out so I said hello... and he started up a conversation about the dogs and the neighborhood and how he doesn't know his neighbors and on and on. He was really nice and his name is Renee. So now I know about three people in the neighborhood, which is not great, but it's better than it was when I knew only one This getting out with the dogs is going to be good in more ways than one.

Changes

My life is changed forever.

O.K. that may be a little extreme, but, things are definitely different around the Neil and Jodi household. This past weekend we drove to Denver and picked up two of the littlest and cutest dogs ever.

Then we drove them home through a snow storm, stayed at a Holiday Inn Express where they had some issues with the room and thought that going to the bathroom all over it might make it a bit nicer (We should be banned from that hotel chain for life), continued driving in snow on Sunday, and got home late Sunday night after a stop to visit my parents. The first night at home SUCKED because, despite their diminutive size, the dogs howled and whined loudly nearly all night and we got no sleep... but since then, things have improved. They have slept through the night for the last two nights and are making great progress on the potty training.

When I'm home, I have permanent attachments who follow me everywhere and would rather be on my lap than anyplace. The only trouble? I am not really interested in constantly sitting to accommodate them. I've never been the recipient of such undeserved devotion... but it feels nice.

I think Neil is having fun with them too. He's had the most exhausting four days ever. His work chipped in to further his exhaustion by calling him in to work yesterday at 5:30 in the morning. (and the dogs slept through the phone call!!!) I hope he gets rested soon so he can enjoy our new family members... (not that he's not enjoying them.. but I'm sure he'll enjoy them more when he's not on the verge of sleep)

On Monday, after two nights of less than 4 hours of sleep, I left the dogs in their crate and stumbled into work late. I was queasy from being so tired and my eyes had a permanent blur and I felt sooooooooooo guilty for leaving the dogs crying and that the bunny was locked in her room and that Neil was so tired, that I started crying and I wondered if I could ever be a mom and live through the pangs of guilt and worry I would inevitably feel. I am happy to report, however, that much of Monday's emotional crisis was related to my sleepless state... Still not sure about the kid thing... but I imagine that it will feel right someday.

Next step, let dogs and bunny meet. Ohmygoodness what have we gotten ourselves into?

Dogs

Am I ready to be responsible for a dog? I think I am. I long for the companionship. I can't wait to take my dog or dogs for walks with Neil in our neighborhood. I want to take them to Petsmart on the weekends and I want them to curl up with me when I watch TV at night. I can go home at lunch every day to let them out and play with them. (I'll save money and calories that way, too.) I envision taking them with us when we go to Santa Fe to visit my parents. My mom will love them. I even want to take them on vacation with us. I want to make them feel loved and happy.

But will I be good enough to care for them? I think this doubt occurs anytime I up my responsibility. I felt it when I took Boo Boo home in a cardboard box and I am sure I will feel it if and when I decide to become a parent. Oh boy, I can't wait for nine months of self-doubt.

The more I think about it, I think the only thing making me wonder if Neil and I should drive to Denver and adopt the two dogs waiting for us there is concern about myself and my ability to be a good "parent" to them. I know they have some issues (didn't get much love from people for their first five years of life), but I am certain that Neil and I can help them get used to people and feel secure. I know we have a lot to offer and I also know that if we were able to train a bunny to use a litter box and not be scared of people, we will be able to help these dogs overcome any issues. I think they will probably create some stress at first as we adjust to them and they adjust to us, but eventually, they're bound to make us happy and become family members.

Ahh... is getting a pet always such a big deal? If it isn't, I think it probably should be.

Shoes

I am in the middle of two shoe battles of epic proportions... They haven't come to blows yet, but I won't be surprised if they do.

I somehow became responsible for picking bridesmaid shoes for two weddings this summer and I seem to be doing an abysmal job. I have spent several hours at work clicking through department store shoe departments and shoe websites online and e-mailing links to the bridesmaids and brides. I have gone to a department store to try these shoes on in person. I found the perfect shoe for one wedding, only to then learn that the bride didn't actually like the color and one or two bridesmaids decided, from a picture, that the shoe wouldn't be comfortable. Each time I e-mail a link to a shoe, someone else pitches in with another link to a shoe with a heel that's WAY too high or a price tag WAY too big.

Nobody is trying to be difficult, but I have come to realize that you just don't mess with women and their shoes. I personally do not want to buy two pairs of shoes that I will never wear again. And if we have to settle on shoes I will never wear again, can't they at least be inexpensive? I am sure that all eight of the other girls (four from one wedding and four from another) also want shoes that fit them just right and are exactly their taste. But I want to stand up at a podium and tell them that it just doesn't work that way... we can't ALL be comfortable and satisfied. That is why not everyone should be involved in the shoe-picking process. But it is too late... the battles have begun and I have to just sit back and see what happens.


Dogs

I am completely, entirely obsessed with getting a dog (or dogs). It can't just be any dog, it has to be a Maltese, or another similar-looking little white dog that I can fool myself into thinking is a Maltese. I have been to the humane society shelter, both city pounds (more than once) a gazillion animal rescue sites and I've applied with at least three rescues. I found a dog at each city pound that was absolutely perfect a couple weekends ago, but both had a long list of people signed up to adopt them. I thought I was going to get one of them when the shelter told me the first people didn't adopt her and I had until noon to come get her. I sped over there, leaving work, and was sooooo excited, but when I went to the window to fill out papers, they told me they'd made a mistake, the first people still had until 6 that night and I could come tomorrow if she hadn't been adopted. Of course, she was adopted.

Yesterday, I got a call from the Colorado Shih Tzu and Maltese Rescue saying that they have a pair of Malteses who are 5 years old and love to cuddle and need a home. I SOOOO want to go to Denver and get them. But it is two dogs and I only had Neil sold on one. I want them so much that I can hardly think about other things (except for bridesmaid shoes and the occasional thought about work...ohdeargodineedtogettowork) I think they sound perfect. They will need a little training, but other than that, they like people, are used to being around other animals so might bond with our bunny, are relatively young since they live to be 14-17...

Food at the Gym

Recently, I was at my parent's gym with them. (recently as in before I got super-ill and sat on the couch for a week) I went into the cardio room, did some stretching and jumped on a Precor. I started my 30-minute workout program and then I plugged my headphones into the machine and looked up at the two televisions. One of them had a March Madness basketball game on and the other...Emeril Live.

Now, I should probably mention that I had worked very hard that day and hadn't had the chance to take a lunch break, so I resorted to eating snacks from my office snack drawer. Basically, my food intake that day consisted of an instant oatmeal packet and a bunch of raisins. So, when I stepped onto my elliptical machine at 6 p.m., I was doing my best to ignore the growls coming from my stomach. But some woman was on a bicycle behind me and she was watching the FOOD NETWORK!!!!!! I made some faces and she offered to change the channel, but then I felt bad so I switched the headphones to a music station and kept working out. Unfortunately, however, it was unavoidable that I would have to look up on occasion and see the souffle Emeril was working on. It was maddening.

But, interestingly, I also kept seeing a band on the television. Every time I saw the musical ensemble, I thought maybe by some miracle the channel had been changed, but eventually I realized that Emeril has a live band for his cooking show. I get the whole New Orleans jazz connection, but I still can't imagine being in that band. It's cool to be in the Tonight Show Band or the Saturday Night Live Band, but the Emeril Band? Something tells me that foodies who tune in to that show aren't watching for the music. How do you tell your friends that you're in Emeril's band?

You are now thinking that I gave this entirely too much thought. I completely agree. It was the only way to escape the agony of basketball and food when I really wanted to be watching something more along the lines of Access Hollywood. Or, actually, I really wanted to be at a restaurant somewhere feasting on my dinner.

Rule of etiquette: Do not watch Food Network or food preparation shows on other networks at the gym where people are ALWAYS hungry. Weight loss and Emeril don't mesh.

Sick

Last Tuesday, I left work with a slight tinge of soreness creeping into the back of my throat. I went to dinner with Nancy, rollerblading with her for about 15 minutes, drove home, took a bath, went to bed and got out of bed two hours later with a fever of 101.5. For the next 48 hours my body hurt too desperately for me to sleep, my tonsils grew to the size of golf balls (but felt like baseballs) and my fever bounced around between 99 and 102 degrees. Ahh Strep, my old enemy.

When I was little, I got strep on occasion and I remember that it wasn't a whole lot of fun, but I had no recollection of the complete and total wipe out that takes place upon infection. I lost five days of my life to the evil Strep bacteria. Five days that I could have been doing things and enjoying life were instead spent in bed or on the couch wishing I could somehow be put out of my misery.

Now I have mountains of work to complete and deadlines speeding toward me like a bullet train. But I am certainly grateful for my health. Nothing better than being really ill to make one appreciate healthy days...

I'm Moving to Europe

And not for the reasons that most Americans are considering the move. Yes, I am disgusted with our government and consider fleeing the country daily for that reason alone, but did you know that they can say fuck on TV in Britain? I think that's a far more compelling reason to pack my bags. Not because I love that word, but because it demonstrates that their society may be less neurotic about certain things and (gasp) more laid back? Or maybe they just have a better sense of humor? Clearly I haven't thought this all through... I just know that when I watched that terrific Channel 4 ad (thanks Andy), I:
a) developed a deep admiration for Zach Braff
b) I smiled a really big smile, despite being in the middle of a stressful project
c) I suddenly decided that moving to London might just be the answer after all.

(a note: while I watched the ad at work, I think it is not appropriate viewing material for most workplaces... unless you're wearing headphones hooked up to your computer speakers.)

The Weekend

Anyway, since I can't really pick up and move to a foreign country at the moment, I am looking forward to the weekend. I don't have anything specific planned, but I hope to acquire a bit of new spring clothing and I hope to relax and maybe play disc golf someplace or rollerblade or hike. Today is my exact one year anniversary at my job. Surprisingly it doesn't feel like it's been a whole year and I think that's a very good sign.

It's Maureen Dowd Day!

Ahh Maureen, I hope you keep writing your terrific political columns for a very long time and when you're through, I hope you bequeath your job to me.

I love the way you intertwine issues each week (Spain, Al Quaeda, Kerry v. Bush) and make any rational human reading your column clearly see that Bush is an idiot, republicans are wrong (at least about most major issues at the moment) and we stand a much better chance if we elect a democrat this time around. I love that you also don't hesitate to point out democratic flaws. I love that you worked Pride and Prejudice into your political analysis, seamlessly creating a connection between Bush, Kerry and Jane Austen's fictional characters.

It seems to me, that having a job like Maureen Dowd's would be the perfect marriage of my journalism training and experience, with my political obsession and I wouldn't even have to pretend to be a neutral observer. Of course, I've found that even though I enjoy espousing my political views in writing and intimate conversation, I am not really comfortable cheering at rallies. I'd much rather be on the press risers. But I bet Maureen goes on the press risers if she's at a rally. Also, I bet she still isn't ethically supposed to make campaign contributions because of her job. It's the perfect position -- the perfect straddling between journalist and person with opinions.

Note to self: Seek political columnist job, even if it means being political reporter again first.

Milk it Does a Body Bad?

So, I don't drink a whole lot of milk. I do put it in cereal on occasion and smoothies. I love ice cream. I eat yogurt sometimes and I am a cheese fanatic (but I try to eat minimal amounts of the stuff in order not to gain tons of weight) But, I have been hearing rumblings for a while about dairy not being so healthy for us humans. It may be on the FDA Food Pyramid, but some health experts are saying that we shouldn't eat dairy at all. Check out this list of reasons to avoid the stuff.

So, I am torn. Do I stop eating all cheesy and milky things that I love so much? I am a soy milk fan, but soy milk doesn't cut it in cereal or in milk shakes. What a conundrum. There is always so much information about health floating around out there. How can you tell what to listen to and what is a load of crap? I suspect that there may be something to this dairy thing since I've always felt it was a little weird to be drinking milk meant for baby cows... Who came up with that idea in the first place?

Allergic

I am looking at the computer screen through a sea of pollen-induced blur. I am sneezing every two to three minutes and my eyes itch like mosquito bites. This sucks. The allergic state I'm in is impairing my judgment and slowing me down. I hate allergies. Apparently, the scrappy little Juniper tree is responsible for my current condition. I wish I could like Junipers, but I really really hate them.

Thai Food

We have a favorite Thai restaurant. It is, quite possibly, the best Thai restaurant in the U.S. We make this claim. But we have not been to all the other Thai places. We just know ours is good. They have fresh orchids on every table each night. They have a killer lunch buffet. Their prices are terrific and the food is indescribable. We probably average one visit a week to our Thai place and we have done so since we moved here a year and a half ago. But it was only recently that the small woman who owns the place began to talk to us. Now, every time I go to pick up an order to go or when we eat there and get up to pay, she begins witty banter. The first time was the most striking. Neil came to eat with me and Nancy and as we were leaving the owner made some sort of comment about him intruding on girls night and how he should have dressed up as a girl and then, with absolutely no provocation whatsoever, she launched into a story about how there are TONS of transvestites in Thailand and how they are prettier than real women. I don't really remember the rest, but we all walked outside and burst into cackles because a) she had never spoken in the whole year and a half we'd been going there and b) the first thing she ever decided to talk to us about was crossdressers. Wow.

Last night, I got myself veggie pad Thai to go and while I was paying she started telling me when she likes to run her errands. Huh?

The thing is, even with her bizarre nonsequitors, I think she's terrific. I love her accent and I love her new friendly personality and I LOVE her cooking.

The 80s

I really love the 80s. I love them as a decade that I lived through and that is over. I like the 80s because they remind me of childhood and because I like to laugh at them. I think it's hilarious that I used to wear hot pink sweatshirts with ghetto blasters embroidered on them and that I had legwarmers. But I don't want the 80s to come back! I don't want to have to cut the necks out of all my t-shirts and wear short, strangely-cut black and white polka dot skirts. But, if the trends in Chico can be trusted, fashion is going 80s again and fast.

I first noticed it while waiting in line for pizza at 1 a.m. last Friday. There were drunk college students all around and several of them were wearing little ruffled and layered polka dot mini mini skirts. The type that barely cover the butt. I thought that maybe these girls were representatives of some strange 80s skank crowd, but I asked Dustin where on earth they were getting those skirts (and I was imagining a dank thrift store) and he said Lulu's.

The weekend progressed and I noticed other girls wearing meshy shirts with cut-out necks and still more in these weird Pretty-In-Pink-esque skirts (except considerably shorter). Then my brother took me to Lulu's, the most fashion-forward shop in Chico and lo and behold, everything inside was hot pink and straight out of the 80s, except smaller. It was as if every teen's wardrobe from 1985 was washed and dried and shrunk three sizes in the dryer. Instead of the sort of grungy yet hip look, it will be the 80's essence with lots of skin and body hugging and more cleanliness.

And for the first time, I am not at all interested in getting in on this trend. I like the clean, tailored look. I can even get beind the low-cut pants...(but not low low cut). But I can't imagine ever wearing one of those skirts or the off-the-shoulder tops that look like I just took my scissors to them. I am old. I'm dated. This must be how my parents felt when bell bottoms made their brief comeback while I was in high school.

This realization that I'm dated made me turn to my language as well. I am constantly saying things like "cool" and "that rocks" occasionally I even say "Awesome!" To my credit, I have started introducing the word "Sweet" into my vocab. But it seems as though the word to say now is "Sick" and that's a tough one to swallow. Am I like my parents were when they said "groovy" and "hip" and "Neat" and I looked at them and rolled my eyes?

I must reclaim my youth, but not if it means dressing like a slutty Cindy Lauper and saying "that's sick" when I mean to say "cool". Am I a fuddy duddy?

California

I want to move to California. I don't care about the overpopulation or the traffic or even about the whole Arnold as governor thing. I want to live in that sunny utopia with all the tank tops and laid back people.

Visiting the siblings was good. It was so cool to see my brother living on his own and doing his own thing at college. Chico State was impressive too. It was not at all the partying insanity that Dustin described. It's got a shiny campus and the kids all seemed nice, if a bit homogeneous. The city of Chico is cute and has all the amenities necessary for college students including amazing late-night pizza at a place called Frankies. There is also an AMAZING park on the edge of town, Bidwell Park (second largest municipal park in the country), that overlooks a big canyon with a river at the bottom and there's a disc golf course on the cliff... I had soo much fun playing disc golf, even though I pretty much suck at it.. Frisbee has never been my forte.

Oakland on Monday and Tuesday to see Jaimie's place was also fun. We managed to be in San Francisco Monday afternoon when the high temperature record was broken . It was 79 degrees in the city in early March. I've never been to San Francisco before when it wasn't raining and cloudy, so it was a great treat. We went to the top of the Bank of America building and took in the view while drinking expensive fruit punch. But, it was worth it. Monday night, we went to a terrific bar in Berkeley where they have tons of board games and people can bring their dogs. I decided that if I lived nearby, I'd be at that bar every night.

Now I'm back and totally exhausted and trying to get stuff done, but longing to be outside since the sun followed us home to New Mexico.

Name

I am thinking my blog needs a better name. Initials just aren't cutting it anymore. Yesterday I stumbled across a blog named something like "Pink Cookies" and there was a picture of a big plate of pink cookies. While I in no way wish I had come up with that name first, it did make me long for a name that is more hip and/or intriguing. Sean's blog is also way better in the name department than mine... Notes From The Self-Absorbed... While I do not think my friend Sean is self-absorbed, I do think he has a catchy title... So what is my blog about? Pretty much random crap I decide to spout off about. Or perhaps it is about me... which leads back to the initials... which are boring. This is quite a conundrum.

Invitations

Last night I spent an inordinate amount of time making invitations for my mom's 50th birthday party. I begged her to let us throw her one and she finally gave the approval and then she got all panicky about the invitations being completed in time to invite people from out of town. I understand the urgency, but it sure was a lot of pressure on me... So instead of packing for the trip tonight, I stood at our long kitchen counter and assembled invitations. (Yes, I admit, I made them WAY too complicated for myself -- each invitation must have two rubber stamps applied in two different colors and then each stamp must have a different colored sparkly powder dumped on it while it is still wet. then the powder must be tapped off so the powder only sticks to the lines of ink ,similar to glitter and glue, and THEN each stamp with the powder on it must be blow-dried with an embossing gun until the powder melts and the stamp looks like a shiny raised image instead of a stamp. What was I thinking?)

So, my parents had to make an emergency trip from Santa Fe to my house in order to deliver and all-important rubber stamp of a cowboy boot that no craft store in Albuquerque seemed to carry. Then my mom made a salad out of everything in my refrigerator and some items from the pantry as well.... it included lettuce, red bell pepper, apple, raisins, walnuts, havarti cheese chunks, celery and garlic crackers and amazingly, it tasted pretty good. I would have NEVER combined all of those ingredients in a salad or anything else, but my mom is apparently a bit more fearless in the kitchen than I.

My dad sat on the couch and counted M&M's (4,307 of them) for some contest that my mom gets roped into every year where kids have to guess how many M&Ms are in the jar and then they win the jar. (I don't know if I'd want to win a jar of M&Ms that had been counted and therefore touched by someone... but oh well.) My mom addressed envelopes and I performed the aforementioned procedure and completed 36 invitations... or was it 38. These were the out-of-town batch which means I get to do it all again when we get back from California.

When the insanity subsided last night and my parents went home and I had cleaned all the glittery powder off the counter and floor and I finally got to pack, I was too exhausted to make decisions so I ended up just throwing half my closet into the bag, zipping it and calling myself packed. I am bound to get to California and a) realize that I packed way too much and then get mad at myself and b) realize that I don't have anything appropriate to wear despite having half my wardrobe with me. This would probably happen even if I had put more time and effort into packing. I think clothing is my biggest travel hangup... get me out of my routine and I have no idea what to wear... It doesn't help matters that I am not the kind of skinny I had hoped to be by this point. Despite my exercise fanaticism so I still don't fit in the majority of my cool warmer weather clothes. AAAUUGGGHHH...

But, despite all of it I am a) excited that my mom is letting us throw her a 50th birthday party and b) excited to get on the plane tonight, even if I may have to go shopping for some nice make-me-feel-good clothes when we get there. :)

Till Wednesday...

Oh My God I HATE Ralph Nader!

Soggy

Today is a soggy day. I woke up this morning to audible rain drops on the roof. In case that doesn't seem shocking, it is a true rarity in New Mexico, especially since we are not in monsoon season. Normal rain here is more like an old man spitting on you and less like a shower from the heavens. Also, normally, rain sticks around for an hour max and then the sun comes out. Not the case with today's storm... or many storms lately. Anyway, waking up to the rain next to Neil was nice, but I just got that industrious stay-at-home feeling, like I wanted to cuddle for a while, make breakfast together, pay some bills and read, hang out with the bunny etc. Instead, I got up, made a Carnation Instant Breakfast (oh, the healthiness of my diet), hugged Neil, scratched Boo Boo's head and got in the car to drive through the onslaught of pebble-sized raindrops.

Now it's lunch time and I'm at work and I just finished my cup of Jasmine Green Tea With Flowers that I got in New Orleans and am now addicted to. I feel a little melancholy. I know it is because it's cloudy and my brain is conditioned for sunshine, but it's still not the most fun to feel sad for no truly justifiable reason. But, my mp3 of Toxic just came on (iTunes plays all my songs randomly for me all day.). I read a laughable review of Ms. Britney's new tour in the New York Times today. It's the Onyx Hotel Tour... or something like that. It is sort of disheartening to learn that she didn't actually sing any of the songs in the show.. but oh well, she's still pretty and she can dance and we all knew she couldn't sing already.

Kerry

Yesterday, I signed up as a Kerry supporter. I hesitated, though. And the hesitation wasn't because I didn't want to support him as much as it was because I worried that my signing on to his campaign could be equivalent to the kiss of death since the last two candidates I signed up to support didn't fare so well. But then I decided to take my chances and I requested my two free bumper stickers and listed myself as a supporter. I also have a button that Neil collected from one of Kerry's NM campaign stops. I am not going to attach it to anything yet, but I imagine I'll get there eventually.

In the meantime, Bush has launched his campaign with some advertisements. I have only read descriptions. They weren't airing them on the NM WB during Angel last night, nor were they on NBC during Access Hollywood and so, I have not yet seen them. In fact, I think they are still targeted to certain states... but I am not sure about that. It seems like a man with nearly unlimited funds would just hit the whole country with his ads at once...

Maureen Dowd has a kick-ass column today about the advertisements that had me giggle out loud at my desk. (an aside: If only I could end up with Maureen's job and wit.)

Brother

Tomorrow evening Neil and I are off on another airplane... This time to visit Dustin in Chico. I am really excited to see my little brother at college. And to see Neil's sister and for us to all four hang out. If only I could finish everything I need to before leaving. I have all these loose ends floating around and my desk is terrific evidence of that... way too many stacks piled up and that means it's time to get to work -- no lunch today...

Super Tuesday and The Weather

It's Super Tuesday. I think that's a really stupid name for a day like today. So what if nine states are voting in the democratic primary and 1,151 delegates are up for grabs. Especially during an election like this one (you know, how sheep all over the country are following each other off the Kerry cliff) there is nothing super about today at all.

In New Mexico, it's snowing. But, of course, since today isn't super, the snow is melting when it hits the ground and just making everything wet and dreary. I get cold just looking out my window. Neil and I had planned to be big huge political dorks and watch all the primary coverage, but based on exit polls, it looks like all the elections will be called before I even make it home from the gym.

William Hung

I watched American Idol's Uncut, Uncensored and Untalented last night and couldn't decide whether to laugh hysterically at William Hung or cry for him. He was so endearing. When he was asked about engineering, I was really expecting him to say he is good at engineering but he said he's struggling with engineering, too. That just about broke my heart. So now my question is: Are we all laughing at him or with him? I suppose it is a mix. But is William Hung laughing at himself? I am afraid he isn't. It's like he's really taking it all seriously and he is hoping to launch a singing career and, forgive me for being a cynic, I don't think it's going to happen. If we look at past examples, the world will tire of William soon enough. I mean, who even plays Kelly Clarkson songs anymore? I haven't heard her on the radio in weeks. And look what happened to Justin Guarini. I am not sure William stands a chance of making it past his 15 minutes. (especially since he's missing that whole talent thing... and oh, those teeth.)

If William does put an album out, however, I will buy it because a) I want to support the little guy and b) it will be lots of fun to put it on and do the William Hung dance around the house with Neil...those moves are something else -- we'll look like rock stars.

Big News

I learned about a comment function that I could add to my blog from my friend Liz. So now anyone who reads my blog can comment on my posts. I have no clue if more than three or four of you are reading, so this comment thing could be either a) really exciting or b) it could confirm my suspicions that I don't get much traffic. :)

So comment away.

The Oscars

...were soooo boring. I do love Billy Crystal and the songs at the beginning were funny. I also enjoyed watching Renee get her Oscar and the best moment was Sophia Coppola's win, but other than that, I would have had more fun waxing my legs. I have no idea why I watched the entire thing. I think it was akin to needing to see the end of a really bad movie in case it somehow redeems itself. There was no redemption. Maybe Lord of the Rings was good...(I have no idea because I haven't watched ANY of them) but did it have to win every single award?

To make matters worse, nobody really had any interesting clothing on. Nothing made me say, "oh wow, I wish I could wear that gown." Angelina Jolie looked pretty, but Ms. Theron was certainly underwhelming on her big night. And then, I was absolutely crushed at the depressed look on Bill Murray's face when he didn't win. And I still think Lost in Translation should have one best picture.

So, I ended up twirling my hair into a very interesting style with little tiny buns all over my head. Yes folks, that is true boredom.

Note to self: Refrain from watching the Oscars next year.

A Better Monday

So, things are looking up. I was determined not to let today feel too much like a Monday and not to let myself get bogged down in all the crap from last week. I will give myself a B+ for the day since I was mostly successful. My only real problem was that I had a great opportunity to promote credit unions through the local media but none of the credit unions wanted to be promoted. This is very annoying since it is my job to make these guys look good and they don't want to let me do it. I finally got someone to help me at 5 p.m. So it wasn't a total loss. Just frustrating.

Confession

I recently downloaded Britney's new CD from iTunes and I LOVE it. This is shameful, I know. But it's really good.

New Development

The best thing about last week was realizing that I now default to exercise for a stress release. In fact, I crave exercise. This is terrific news. I still have to force myself to go to the gym sometimes, but other times I need to go. Yes, this is probably considered a "soft addiction" but oh well, I may be skinny for summer yet. (now I just have to stop craving bread, pizza, ice cream, french fries etc.)

Week From Hell...Please End

Well, there are officially about 45 minutes left in the week from hell. If I were a fool, I'd be relieved, but the wisdom I've gained this week has helped me to realize that relief is not something I should let myself feel until I am home from work lounging on the couch. (and even then, it may be too soon to let my guard down.)

List of Grievances For the Week:
*The printing shop I hired to make life easier did the opposite
*The Rapid Rewards points I was supposed to get from MCI (about seven of them -- half a free ticket) were never credited to my account and MCI won't fix it because, "the partnership with Southwest Airlines has ended" So, I used MCI for almost a year solely because I was getting credits that I never actually got.
*My gym served Burger King hamburgers on Fat Tuesday and that's just not right
*My teeth hurt and I'm afraid they might fall out even though I know I am probably clenching my teeth too much from being stressed out which is making the teeth hurt.
*The Passion is quite possibly creating a whole new generation of anti-semites.
*The discounted fare to Portland on Southwest ends this week and Southwest is only accepting reservations though Aug. 7 and I want to return on Aug. 14, so I can't get the discount.
*George Bush is president
*I miss my brother and want to hang out with him a lot but he doesn't live here.
*February is too short
*All the big bills are due at the beginning of the month and I'm broke.
*I spent more time at the printing shop this week being hassled than I did at my desk.
*My "Little Sister" from Big Brothers Big Sisters is moving to Texas tomorrow and I really like her and was just getting to know her better.
*The president is evil and is trying to change the constitution to ban gay marriage.
*Howard Dean e-mailed me asking to help him pay off campaign debt. This really pissed me off.
*John Kerry is not much better than Bush.
*Nader is running for president.


I think I'm done. Now that I have vented, I intend on having a MUCH better week next week... Happy Weekend everyone.

Breaking News

This morning, I got one of my CNN e-mail updates for breaking news. I opened it up to read: "President Bush Says He Backs Constitutional Ban on Same-Sex Marriage." I think my jaw dropped a little bit and my stomach definitely did a flip flop... not the happy flip flop of a roller coaster ride or falling in love, the feeling one gets when they get very bad news... the sick to your stomach flip flop.

If I didn't already know that Bush was a psycho, this is the proof. He is completely evil.

I saw Gavin Newsome being interviewed by Wolff Blitzer this weekend and he is so awesome. He's trying to create systemic change and gain equality for all Americans and I think it's awesome. Newsome is so well-spoken and brave. What he did in San Francisco is amazing. I have seen several stories about couples who were married in San Francisco in the past couple of weeks and each time I am deeply moved. One NPR story actually made me cry. I only hope that Newsome's campaign/quest doesn't make Bush and his buddies go too far in the opposite direction. Some are saying that Newsome will be responsible if a constitutional amendment is passed. I'm not so sure. I tend to think they would have done it anyways. I really hope that someone stops our maniac president before he does this. If people were looking at marriage and seeing it for what it really is, same-sex marriage wouldn't be an issue at all. Marriage is about commitment to the person you love. It's so simple. It's not about procreation. It's not about god. It's not about society. It is about forming a bond for a lifetime. We should all be able to do that with whomever we choose.

Skiing

On Saturday, we finally went skiing. I did not have any injured body parts and Neil did not have to work and we actually made it to the mountain and got to ski. It was great. I was happy to learn that I still know how to ski and I'm still pretty good at it. Now I want to go every weekend until the season is over, but I'll have to wait to get promoted a few times if I want to do that.

There is something so freeing about strapping big boards to my feet and flying down the mountain. My body remembers the turns and twists it has to make and it's like I'm dancing...

Adventurous

I have always thought of myself as adventurous. I love adventures. I like to live new places, travel, try new things, eat exotic foods, meet new people, listen to new music, take in new and varied art and theatre. I like to push myself to the limit whether it be in athletics or travel or culinary exploration.

In a recent conversation, a good friend of mine stated that he doesn't think I'm adventurous. Actually, it was more of a sarcastic statement that led me to believe he thinks I'm unadventurous. I said something about being adventurous and he said, "Yeah, that's sure the first thing I think of when I think of you." (in a sarcastic tone). So, I know he didn't mean it, but I was so hurt by this. Now I am left to wonder if everyone thinks I lack adventure. Do I seem boring to all my friends? Am I deluding myself into thinking that I have and adventurous spirit?

I hate it when people unintentionally leave me doubting myself. It is an infrequent and unpleasant feeling.