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?
Monday, April 26, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, April 23, 2004
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.
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.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, April 16, 2004
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
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?
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?
Thursday, April 08, 2004
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
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...
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...
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
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.
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.
Monday, March 29, 2004
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...
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...
Friday, March 19, 2004
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.
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.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
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?
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.
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.
Friday, March 12, 2004
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?
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?
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, March 05, 2004
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...
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...
Thursday, March 04, 2004
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...
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...
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
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.
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.
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