Skippers

Look out, water. We're halfway to being sailors.

Mack has been wanting to sail for YEARS. I have been curious about sailing for about as long, but my enthusiasm has been tempered by a fear of the pukes. Last Christmas, my parents gave us the money for the lessons. This month, sailing became a reality. And so did the pukes.

Captain Mack, waiting to take the helm for the first time in his life.

Mack drives us out of the marina. I stand at the front and yell "ALL CLEAR." Basically I'm a helpful Kate Winslet.

The first week I made it through unassisted and did a couple of dry heaves once we were back on land. The second week I made it through feeling pretty good with accu-pressure wrist bands and a half-dose of Meclazine. The third week I died about 90 minutes in when we turned downwind, which makes you feel like you're not even moving, and I hung my head over the edge of the boat and lost my soysage. Next week, it's wrist bands, a full dose of Meclazine, magic oils, and whatever other juju I can find to keep the queasies away.

This is either my favorite part, where it's shady and windy, or the pre-puking part, where I sit up high and try to go to sleep. Hard to tell.

Even with the pukes, though, I love sailing. I like learning the knots and trying to find the sweet spot where the wind fills the sail perfectly. I like using the special words to describe things, like tacking and jibing and close haul and beam reach. I like deciphering the right of way rules and apparent wind versus true wind. It's like a perfect balance between intellect and instinct. My favorite part though is when the sail puts you in the shade and the wind blows back your hair and everything is peace and quiet. That part is so good that even after getting an insta-hangover, you still go back for more.

After a nap and a shower and some salty chips on land, of course.

Extreme Office Makeover

Mack has an office at work. Office is a bit of a stretch. Really, Mack has a 6' x 9' closet called an office. It's in an old army bungalow on the hospital campus, so it, and everything around it, is about 90 years old. It's so old that cats and skunks and raccoons live underneath it in perfect urban harmony. It's also so old that at least 20 years of residents have attempted to make this tiny room a respectable place for advising people on what's wrong with their minds. The last resident left it with purple walls and yellow trim. Guys, I don't know about you, but if I'm going through a bout of cuckoo, I don't want to talk to someone in a place that looks like an Easter egg.

So I took over.

First thing was the paint. I decided to go with greys and wood to keep it masculine without being too cold. I spent one of my days off coating the walls of his office, and everyone who stopped by was all, "Ooooohhhh, purple." And I was like, "Ooooooohhhh, fuck."

Luckily, when I started throwing in some browns and creams, the color went the direction I hoped it would – the direction the sample card said it should. 

Mack inherited some furniture with the office. Namely a fold-able Ikea loveseat that looked like no fewer than 30 people had ejaculated on it. Here's the picture he sent to me of it. If the office wasn't so tiny and this loveseat so perfectly sized for it, I would have tossed this on the curb. But the truth is, it was the best option we had. Cue the fearless yet totally inexperienced reupholsterer inside me.

BEFORE. Let's say that's sweat there in the crease and not semen from a whale.

He also had a giant desk that I rejected from the start and a slender but sturdy red-cushioned chair that I decided should be his office chair. See, Mack has a lead ass. He sits on something half as long as a usual person and it will sag or start busting apart at the joints. I don't understand how someone his size can be so heavy. Something with physics and ass density I guess.

We ordered a desk from Overstock.com and I hunted for some things to give the space some personality. I found a phrenology head that was a nod to the specialty of psychiatry, a photo of a sailboat that is his constant reminder of why he's working in the first place, an hourglass (because I always wanted one), and some fake succulents that don't require actual care and attention. I printed out an old-school illustration of a brain and framed it. And then I figured he should have his med school diploma in the room since all the other doctors had theirs hanging up, so I got that framed too. (Framers should be arrested for charging framing prices.) I ended up throwing in a big house plant to cover some cords and an actual zebra succulent I found at Ikea because it was awesome. In the end, I think it all turned out pretty decent, especially considering how little we had to work with.

And now for your tour of a closet.

The doctor will see you now.

AFTER: I knew I nailed it when I was visiting Mack one day and he said, "You have no idea how many people have cried on that couch." It really is comfortable and safe feeling. And that throw pillow is for people like me who need something to hug when they're purging evil.

Personality in the room. No personality in the doctor. He had a meeting to get to and his wife was being extra Asian about taking photos.

The desk and that great red chair. Blurry pic because he was literally dragging me out of the office.

The Electric Slide

A couple months ago, Mack, Laila, Shahin and I walked into a Ford dealership to test drive a car. I believe my last words as we walked out of the house were, "We are not buying a car today." 

About two hours later, we were the new leasers of a Ford C-max Energi, which is a hatchback that is all electric for about 21 miles and is then a hybrid. Can I just say that we got this car on July 5, have gone 2000 miles that include long trips, and have put one tank of gas in it? Yes, I can.

It has a backing up camera. And bluetooth. And a touchscreen. And voice commands.

Getting gas is pretty much the most annoying task of my life. That and dusting. Which is why I try to do neither and have been stranded more times than any human should be. Now, I never buy gas and it is amazing. I plug my car in when I get out of it at home, I unplug it when I leave, and life is simple and great. And my car is so stealth that I could do drive-bys if I was into that kind of thing.

There was a situation with the battery the second day I had it where I went to start the car and NOTHING. So I took Mack's car to work, he called the dealership, they towed it in, and the next day, I had my car back. Apparently there's a thing where batteries can be bad. I have had zero problems since then. In fact, I've had negative problems because I NEVER BUY GAS!

We didn't really need a new car, but once I realized I was paying $160/month for gas on a car that lost all its value the minute we finally paid it off, I was over it. We leased this one for two reasons: I have no doubt the mileage capacity on a charge is going to increase over the next three years and the last time we bought a car, our payments-to-value-at-the-end averaged out to being the same on a new leased car with no equity when it was all said and done. Isn't that depressing? So I decided that if you pay more than $5000 for a car, it's not worth it to own it. That just a little thing I call Math. So now I drive a little thing I call Spaceship.