I have never been this indecisive before in my life. So I ask you, is this oddly comical or not?
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Can Someone Please Tell Me What's Going on Here?
Mack sent me this before Christmas. When I opened it back then, I remember thinking, "Strange." Then, for whatever reason, I left it on my desktop, and I've been looking at it periodically trying to decide if it's funny or disturbing.
I have never been this indecisive before in my life. So I ask you, is this oddly comical or not?
I have never been this indecisive before in my life. So I ask you, is this oddly comical or not?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I'm a Loser Baby...
Got a text from Jen a couple weekends ago saying, "I JUST RAN 16 MILES."
That alone made me winded. So, I'm on a Weight Loss Challenge. It's like the 300th one in my life, but this time I have a very clear goal of 10 pounds and am doing it on Capessa so if I don't stick with it, more people than just me and Mack will know. Nashvegas and Meanestmom will also know.
Check out my 10 Pound Challenge blog (there are videos!), and join up if you feel so inclined. Also, invite your friends, family and co-workers who may want some friendly support during this tough, Victoria's Secret swimsuit catalog time of year.
That alone made me winded. So, I'm on a Weight Loss Challenge. It's like the 300th one in my life, but this time I have a very clear goal of 10 pounds and am doing it on Capessa so if I don't stick with it, more people than just me and Mack will know. Nashvegas and Meanestmom will also know.
Check out my 10 Pound Challenge blog (there are videos!), and join up if you feel so inclined. Also, invite your friends, family and co-workers who may want some friendly support during this tough, Victoria's Secret swimsuit catalog time of year.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I Hope My Husband Doesn't Mind that I Just Fell in Love with Another Man...
I was all for Hillary until she beat a dead horse into a bloody pulp. And, while I think I could love her again once she gets out of the madness that is an election, after watching this, I'm excited to give my vote to Obama. Because I need to believe in this country again, and today he made me proud to be an American.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Family Reunion
My mom and Betsy decided to come for a visit... finally... and it was amazing. I've realized that I am my best self, the self I most like to be, when I am around my family. Around other people I'm a little more reserved, a little more insecure, a little more static, but when the people who really, really get me are around, I can just be me, pushing the envelope between funny and inappropriate and being forgiven simply because there is a smile behind what otherwise might be cruel. Ahh, balance.
The few days they were here were a whirlwind. We woke up, we walked on the beach, we walked through the canals, we hiked through Mandeville Canyon, we watched a depressing movie Shannon recommended (it was better than Suckerbaby), we walked all over Hollywood, we went shopping, we bought clothes that made us look rich, we ate glorious fuel food, we walked on a red carpet, we tattooed Betsy, we took on Chinatown, we bought fart bombs, we toured historic Olvera Street, we got courted by mariachis, we watched the sun set, we drank fresh squeezed mango juice, we examined real live Emmy and Peabody awards, and then, just as it was getting going, Delta came down and swooped them away.
Stupid Delta.
I've been too tired living life the last week to commit any more thought to this post, so the photos will have to do. And I hope that the people who rejuvenate my spirit become a part of my day to day asap.
The few days they were here were a whirlwind. We woke up, we walked on the beach, we walked through the canals, we hiked through Mandeville Canyon, we watched a depressing movie Shannon recommended (it was better than Suckerbaby), we walked all over Hollywood, we went shopping, we bought clothes that made us look rich, we ate glorious fuel food, we walked on a red carpet, we tattooed Betsy, we took on Chinatown, we bought fart bombs, we toured historic Olvera Street, we got courted by mariachis, we watched the sun set, we drank fresh squeezed mango juice, we examined real live Emmy and Peabody awards, and then, just as it was getting going, Delta came down and swooped them away.
Stupid Delta.
I've been too tired living life the last week to commit any more thought to this post, so the photos will have to do. And I hope that the people who rejuvenate my spirit become a part of my day to day asap.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Sam I Am
If he's anything like his momma, the world just got a million times better. 
Congratulations to my dear Elijah and her new baby boy, Samuel Abbot Maples, born on Wednesday, March 5, weighing in at 7 pounds, 12 ounces and sporting what his momma claims is a mullet.
Since Liz always says things better than me, "Samuel, y'all remember, was called by God, and he anointed David, the scrawny kid in the field. Abbot is the superior of an abbey of monks. Put it all together and his initials spell S.A.M."
I'm looking forward to watching his life unfold and can't believe mine is already at a point where my childhood friends are now parents.
Congratulations to my dear Elijah and her new baby boy, Samuel Abbot Maples, born on Wednesday, March 5, weighing in at 7 pounds, 12 ounces and sporting what his momma claims is a mullet. Since Liz always says things better than me, "Samuel, y'all remember, was called by God, and he anointed David, the scrawny kid in the field. Abbot is the superior of an abbey of monks. Put it all together and his initials spell S.A.M."
I'm looking forward to watching his life unfold and can't believe mine is already at a point where my childhood friends are now parents.
Monday, March 03, 2008
A Trip Back in Time
I'm behind. Because my life is so full of Awesome, I guess.
A few weeks ago, I took Mack on a surprise to Santa Barbara, which, it turns out, is an actual town and not just a soap opera I used to watch when Grandma took a nap and I promised to be quiet as a mouse. There was a lot of sex in Santa Barbara -- the soap opera, I'm talking about the soap opera -- which is probably why this wasn't quite as shocking as it might otherwise have been.
Yes, that is a painting of an orgy.
It is about 8 inches wide by 12 inches tall, and it was hanging over the fireplace in our penthouse hotel room at Ala Mar Hotel. Don't let the word "penthouse" fool you; it was the top room of the very simple, somewhat Nordic feeling, actually affordable, on the beach hotel that we stayed at for one night.
When we walked in, I was glad to see a jacuzzi tub, a refrigerator, and a view of the beach from our window. But when I spotted this little number, featuring midget swingers and possible pedophiles, I knew we'd found a diamond in the rough.
In addition to taking in hotel artwork, we also hit up a Santa Barbara winery. Santa Barbara is where they made the movie Sideways. Plus, it is feasible to drive there from LA in a day. That's why I chose Santa Barbara. Here's a snapshot of the drive.
It was so nice to be out in the middle of countryside, I kicked my shoes off and starting kicking back wines every color of the rainbow. When the horses from a neighboring rehabilitation farm sauntered over our way, I felt like I was home again. Although, to be fair, the only place I ever lived that was next to horses was Grandma's house, but you know that back then I was too obsessed with sex and soap operas to really appreciate these animals being so close. 
Breathing in the untainted air, looking out on mountains and trees and green spaces, sitting in close proximity to enough wine to last me a lifetime, I had no choice but to start dreaming about my retirement. 
We also got a little bit of beach exploring in. We went to Carpinteria Beach, which is named for Spanish carpenters like Jesus, because allegedly it was a seal haven. Mack had told me how awesome the elephant seals are, and I was hoping that we could see some. No. This was a Harbor Seal Safe Haven, devoid of any seals, probably because this was also an RV Safe Haven. Can someone tell me why you would get an RV and drive a long way to a natural spot where you will then park in a parking lot less than 3 feet from another RV? Why not just live in an apartment?
Aside from the RVs and the absence of seals, Capinteria Beach did deliver. If you consider tar pits on the beach delivering.
It was pretty smelly, and it felt weird seeing pollution in nature, but something about the oozing black gold was awesome. We paused at one point to look at a flower and Mack started drifting down the path. When he lifted up his shoe, there was melty oil underneath. It had been covered by the dirt of the path, and if you just keep on walking it just feels like soft ground. But if you stand there, it starts to slime you.
Which is precisely why you don't go swimming on the beaches of Santa Barbara. Just have sex instead. 
A few weeks ago, I took Mack on a surprise to Santa Barbara, which, it turns out, is an actual town and not just a soap opera I used to watch when Grandma took a nap and I promised to be quiet as a mouse. There was a lot of sex in Santa Barbara -- the soap opera, I'm talking about the soap opera -- which is probably why this wasn't quite as shocking as it might otherwise have been.
Yes, that is a painting of an orgy.It is about 8 inches wide by 12 inches tall, and it was hanging over the fireplace in our penthouse hotel room at Ala Mar Hotel. Don't let the word "penthouse" fool you; it was the top room of the very simple, somewhat Nordic feeling, actually affordable, on the beach hotel that we stayed at for one night.
When we walked in, I was glad to see a jacuzzi tub, a refrigerator, and a view of the beach from our window. But when I spotted this little number, featuring midget swingers and possible pedophiles, I knew we'd found a diamond in the rough.
In addition to taking in hotel artwork, we also hit up a Santa Barbara winery. Santa Barbara is where they made the movie Sideways. Plus, it is feasible to drive there from LA in a day. That's why I chose Santa Barbara. Here's a snapshot of the drive.
It was so nice to be out in the middle of countryside, I kicked my shoes off and starting kicking back wines every color of the rainbow. When the horses from a neighboring rehabilitation farm sauntered over our way, I felt like I was home again. Although, to be fair, the only place I ever lived that was next to horses was Grandma's house, but you know that back then I was too obsessed with sex and soap operas to really appreciate these animals being so close. 
Breathing in the untainted air, looking out on mountains and trees and green spaces, sitting in close proximity to enough wine to last me a lifetime, I had no choice but to start dreaming about my retirement. 
We also got a little bit of beach exploring in. We went to Carpinteria Beach, which is named for Spanish carpenters like Jesus, because allegedly it was a seal haven. Mack had told me how awesome the elephant seals are, and I was hoping that we could see some. No. This was a Harbor Seal Safe Haven, devoid of any seals, probably because this was also an RV Safe Haven. Can someone tell me why you would get an RV and drive a long way to a natural spot where you will then park in a parking lot less than 3 feet from another RV? Why not just live in an apartment?Aside from the RVs and the absence of seals, Capinteria Beach did deliver. If you consider tar pits on the beach delivering.
It was pretty smelly, and it felt weird seeing pollution in nature, but something about the oozing black gold was awesome. We paused at one point to look at a flower and Mack started drifting down the path. When he lifted up his shoe, there was melty oil underneath. It had been covered by the dirt of the path, and if you just keep on walking it just feels like soft ground. But if you stand there, it starts to slime you.
Which is precisely why you don't go swimming on the beaches of Santa Barbara. Just have sex instead. 
Monday, February 25, 2008
Dulywed: What's Beneath All Those Vows (A Series)
My Dear Partner in Life,
I promise to love, honor and cherish you even though you wake up with random and inconsistent songs in your head and decide to share them with me despite how dreadful they are. I agree to let you sing, even though the morning hating monster in me wants you to shut the f up, because I know that your sunshiny way of greeting the day is better than my frowny way. I commit to tolerate your sleepy dance moves as you walk in the buff from the bedroom to the bathroom, where we both get ready at the same time because we live in The Most Expensive Place in the World. And I vow, that on mornings when you walk in singing Squeezebox and start hitting me in the butt with your morning wood as part of your dance routine, I will blog about it. Because it is special and hilarious and, although publicly inappropriate, a really fun way to start the day.
Love,
The Keeper of Your Secrets
I promise to love, honor and cherish you even though you wake up with random and inconsistent songs in your head and decide to share them with me despite how dreadful they are. I agree to let you sing, even though the morning hating monster in me wants you to shut the f up, because I know that your sunshiny way of greeting the day is better than my frowny way. I commit to tolerate your sleepy dance moves as you walk in the buff from the bedroom to the bathroom, where we both get ready at the same time because we live in The Most Expensive Place in the World. And I vow, that on mornings when you walk in singing Squeezebox and start hitting me in the butt with your morning wood as part of your dance routine, I will blog about it. Because it is special and hilarious and, although publicly inappropriate, a really fun way to start the day.
Love,
The Keeper of Your Secrets
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Something I Haven't Blogged Because of the Shame
Earlier this year, I had to send Venus to a retirement home.
The poor dog has become tragically neglected since we moved out here. She went from having a bedmate in David, to having a roommate in Shannon and then Nikki, to having her Mom start working from home, to having no one around for a minimum of 9 hours everyday.
She'd been doing better since we moved to our new place, but better still wasn't good. Her quality of life is completely tied to having people around her, and ever since I had to start working and Mack went back to school, she's been getting by but not being anywhere near as happy as she used to be. After we got back from Jamaica and Mack started going to school all day 6 days a week and I kept my regular work schedule, she took a turn toward decay. I had to make the terrible decision to save myself from the guilt of giving her up or to save her from the impending crazy and broken that I saw creeping into her eyes.
No one I know has a farm or the space to take on a dog, which not only made me appreciate Phil and Dave and Leigh for being so nice to babysit her so many times but also made it a heart-wrenching challenge. Let's face it. She's old and crippled and she bites. She's not good with kids or dogs or elderly people, and she's especially unkind to blondes and black people. I knew if she went to the pound she'd be put down in a matter of days. I just couldn't live with myself knowing that would be her fate.
Mack helped me track down a dog rescue in Los Angeles called Save a Life. It's a no-kill animal sanctuary, and we called to see if they ever accept dogs whose owners couldn't keep them anymore. They said they did, on the condition that the owners give a sizable donation. I looked at Venus, losing weight by the day and looking more and more defeated, and I made one of the hardest decisions I've had to make so far. I decided to give her up.
In a lot of ways, giving her up was giving up on the part of myself that thinks I can handle everything. It was me being honest instead of blindly optimistic, and it was me admitting defeat in the face of present circumstances. There's just not enough time to be all things to all people and places and pets, and doing everything halfway wasn't good for anyone. Save a Life probably saved a couple of lives by taking Venus in.
The lady who runs the place called us a couple days after we dropped of the V to ask us to send over her vet records. She'd given her some vaccinations, put her on antibiotics for her skin/itching problem, and was feeding her "more premium food," which means "stuff better than the Pedigree crap you were feeding her." (In my defense, it's hilarious to watch Venus eat Pedigree with rice in it because somehow she manages to eat all the brown pieces and spit out all the rice pieces, and that's why I was a Pedigree loyalist.) I asked how she was adjusting and what the lady said was music to my ears. A puppy they'd just brought in had decided Venus was her friend and the two of them were sharing a bed and laying in the sunshine.
It's still not easy not to think about her without getting sad. But the truth is the dog she was changed into the dog she was becoming because of our new situation. I loved her for being the rotten puppy who ate cigarettes, for pushing Ruble off the couch, for all the pizza crusts I found under my pillow, for laying at my feet when I'd write and letting me rub my toes in her fluffy hair. I loved the life we had together in Kentucky, and that's a life every dog should have. She deserves better, and I hope that her final few years in the California sunshine with little puppies keeping her annoyed but secretly delighted will let her forgive me for giving her up.
The poor dog has become tragically neglected since we moved out here. She went from having a bedmate in David, to having a roommate in Shannon and then Nikki, to having her Mom start working from home, to having no one around for a minimum of 9 hours everyday.
She'd been doing better since we moved to our new place, but better still wasn't good. Her quality of life is completely tied to having people around her, and ever since I had to start working and Mack went back to school, she's been getting by but not being anywhere near as happy as she used to be. After we got back from Jamaica and Mack started going to school all day 6 days a week and I kept my regular work schedule, she took a turn toward decay. I had to make the terrible decision to save myself from the guilt of giving her up or to save her from the impending crazy and broken that I saw creeping into her eyes. No one I know has a farm or the space to take on a dog, which not only made me appreciate Phil and Dave and Leigh for being so nice to babysit her so many times but also made it a heart-wrenching challenge. Let's face it. She's old and crippled and she bites. She's not good with kids or dogs or elderly people, and she's especially unkind to blondes and black people. I knew if she went to the pound she'd be put down in a matter of days. I just couldn't live with myself knowing that would be her fate.
Mack helped me track down a dog rescue in Los Angeles called Save a Life. It's a no-kill animal sanctuary, and we called to see if they ever accept dogs whose owners couldn't keep them anymore. They said they did, on the condition that the owners give a sizable donation. I looked at Venus, losing weight by the day and looking more and more defeated, and I made one of the hardest decisions I've had to make so far. I decided to give her up.
In a lot of ways, giving her up was giving up on the part of myself that thinks I can handle everything. It was me being honest instead of blindly optimistic, and it was me admitting defeat in the face of present circumstances. There's just not enough time to be all things to all people and places and pets, and doing everything halfway wasn't good for anyone. Save a Life probably saved a couple of lives by taking Venus in.
The lady who runs the place called us a couple days after we dropped of the V to ask us to send over her vet records. She'd given her some vaccinations, put her on antibiotics for her skin/itching problem, and was feeding her "more premium food," which means "stuff better than the Pedigree crap you were feeding her." (In my defense, it's hilarious to watch Venus eat Pedigree with rice in it because somehow she manages to eat all the brown pieces and spit out all the rice pieces, and that's why I was a Pedigree loyalist.) I asked how she was adjusting and what the lady said was music to my ears. A puppy they'd just brought in had decided Venus was her friend and the two of them were sharing a bed and laying in the sunshine.
It's still not easy not to think about her without getting sad. But the truth is the dog she was changed into the dog she was becoming because of our new situation. I loved her for being the rotten puppy who ate cigarettes, for pushing Ruble off the couch, for all the pizza crusts I found under my pillow, for laying at my feet when I'd write and letting me rub my toes in her fluffy hair. I loved the life we had together in Kentucky, and that's a life every dog should have. She deserves better, and I hope that her final few years in the California sunshine with little puppies keeping her annoyed but secretly delighted will let her forgive me for giving her up.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Part of the Reason I Chose to Move
Just in case your minds had frozen and you started to believe winters have to be like that. Thinking of you suckers warmly as I dine on sunshine and fresh ocean air.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Everyday the 14th
Last year Mack was in charge of Valentine's Day, and when I came home from work he had a margarita on the rocks (with salt) waiting for me. I hopped in the tub to sip the Mexican nectar while he executed his "surprise." When I got out, coconut fried shrimp and macaroni and cheese (with spiral tube noodles) was waiting for me. Not exactly what I would have picked to go with a tart margarita, but a very sweet gesture nonetheless. Especially considering I didn't do anything beyond speak the words, "Happy Valentine's Day."
This year, I am in charge of the celebration. He has no idea what we're doing, but I have crafted a President's Day Lover's Saturday Night Special complete with an Evite and an adapted Gettysburg Address. Because I am an awesome Valentine.
Because Mack is also an awesome Valentine, he gave me a gift first thing this morning. In addition to displaying his full body in all its natural glory while he puttered from the bed to the shower, he also made me eggs, which reminded me of last year and started this year's V-Day off with a smile.
This year, I am in charge of the celebration. He has no idea what we're doing, but I have crafted a President's Day Lover's Saturday Night Special complete with an Evite and an adapted Gettysburg Address. Because I am an awesome Valentine.
Because Mack is also an awesome Valentine, he gave me a gift first thing this morning. In addition to displaying his full body in all its natural glory while he puttered from the bed to the shower, he also made me eggs, which reminded me of last year and started this year's V-Day off with a smile.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Virtually Best Friends
Melissa mentioned on the ski trip that she *loved* the blogs that I have introduced her too (okay, she loves ONE of them), but I found another one back in May that I haven't bragged on enough yet.
Here's how it happened. We had a contest for Mother's Day where women dished on that one naughty thing they did and kept secret from their mom their whole lives. (I broke some crystal wedding candlesticks that used to sit on the mantle that I used as a microphone when giving live performances on the fireplace, but we always just glued them together so no one knew.) This lady Erin revealed that she peed in her mom's shoes and blamed it on the dog. She won free maid service for a year. I called to tell her and she said she kept a blog to deal with the insanity of being a mom to three (they write on the walls with Sharpies a lot). I read her blog. I laughed my butt off.
Now Erin blogs for Capessa. And still for herself. Check her out at Finding Yourself.
She is also trying to finish a baby nursery (she had a little boy a year ago and is preggers again) and is a finalist in a contest for Lifetime. It's neck and neck between her and some lady named Nancy, so I figured I'd use the almighty power of MY BLOG (hey mom! you there?!!) to throw some votes her way because I want her to win.
Please go there and vote for Erin from Oveido, FL as many times as you can. She deserves it.
Here's how it happened. We had a contest for Mother's Day where women dished on that one naughty thing they did and kept secret from their mom their whole lives. (I broke some crystal wedding candlesticks that used to sit on the mantle that I used as a microphone when giving live performances on the fireplace, but we always just glued them together so no one knew.) This lady Erin revealed that she peed in her mom's shoes and blamed it on the dog. She won free maid service for a year. I called to tell her and she said she kept a blog to deal with the insanity of being a mom to three (they write on the walls with Sharpies a lot). I read her blog. I laughed my butt off.
Now Erin blogs for Capessa. And still for herself. Check her out at Finding Yourself.
She is also trying to finish a baby nursery (she had a little boy a year ago and is preggers again) and is a finalist in a contest for Lifetime. It's neck and neck between her and some lady named Nancy, so I figured I'd use the almighty power of MY BLOG (hey mom! you there?!!) to throw some votes her way because I want her to win.
Please go there and vote for Erin from Oveido, FL as many times as you can. She deserves it.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Super Dee Duper Tuesday
I am so excited about the political prospects right now I can barely contain myself. Since moving to a non-apathetic state, I've taken to elections in the same way I used to take to UK Basketball. I go vote, then I go to a little sports bar near my precinct and drink a beer and watch the Democrats take control. It's thrilling.
Today, after filling out my non-partisan ballot on behalf of the Democrats, a lady with a British accent asked me if I could help her walk across the slick floor of the Cellular Factory (yes, we voted in a cell phone store). She was the type of old that is frail and wonderfully sweet, and I took her arm and helped steady her out the door and down the steps. She told me she just lived down the alley and she'd forced herself to get out of the house to cast her vote even though she can't walk too well since breaking her hip three years ago. The half a block required so much energy that she'd thrown a coat over her pajamas to conserve her strength before setting out to do her duty as a citizen of her adopted country. Her name was Veronica, and that she was working so hard to be a part of the process, to contribute her voice to our country, made me appreciate even more what it means to vote.
Mack took her arm to escort her the whole way home, and even in her state of ancient she still had enough spunk to tell me he was so handsome, that she didn't need me anymore and that he'd be home in about four hours. Saucy little thing. We walked her to her apartment, and as she thanked us for helping her out, she blinked back her tears and made me make some of my own. Then she looked into my eyes (there is some debate as to whether she described them as "true" or "shrewd" or "shrew") and made me want to be her granddaughter. At least I get to be her fellow American.
[A COMPLETE ASIDE: Happy Mardi Gras! Our little sports bar was having a Mardi Gras party tonight and I got to have crawfish for the first time in probably 15 years. It was delicious and made me miss Liz and Amy and Harris's and gumbo parties and swamps and Louisiana and the two step. Another nice reminder of where I come from.]
Today, after filling out my non-partisan ballot on behalf of the Democrats, a lady with a British accent asked me if I could help her walk across the slick floor of the Cellular Factory (yes, we voted in a cell phone store). She was the type of old that is frail and wonderfully sweet, and I took her arm and helped steady her out the door and down the steps. She told me she just lived down the alley and she'd forced herself to get out of the house to cast her vote even though she can't walk too well since breaking her hip three years ago. The half a block required so much energy that she'd thrown a coat over her pajamas to conserve her strength before setting out to do her duty as a citizen of her adopted country. Her name was Veronica, and that she was working so hard to be a part of the process, to contribute her voice to our country, made me appreciate even more what it means to vote.
Mack took her arm to escort her the whole way home, and even in her state of ancient she still had enough spunk to tell me he was so handsome, that she didn't need me anymore and that he'd be home in about four hours. Saucy little thing. We walked her to her apartment, and as she thanked us for helping her out, she blinked back her tears and made me make some of my own. Then she looked into my eyes (there is some debate as to whether she described them as "true" or "shrewd" or "shrew") and made me want to be her granddaughter. At least I get to be her fellow American.
[A COMPLETE ASIDE: Happy Mardi Gras! Our little sports bar was having a Mardi Gras party tonight and I got to have crawfish for the first time in probably 15 years. It was delicious and made me miss Liz and Amy and Harris's and gumbo parties and swamps and Louisiana and the two step. Another nice reminder of where I come from.]
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
So You Think You're Tougher than a Kindergartener?
20I think I could actually take on 43. But that's only if I was wearing my heels and had gotten my teeth sharpened.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Also Known As Hype
The Shot Train is loading up on West Virginia coal and is scheduled to depart on Friday, just as planned. Here's some respect, doubling as hype.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Growing Optimism
I'm excited for this. Little baby Samuel. Due in March. To one of my very best friends, Dear Elijah. Samuel has made me happy today. As has thinking about the comment his mom made about chicken yesterday.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Tail Tales
One year ago, on an icy deck outside of a mountain cabin, feeling warm and wobbly from one too many, I turned on a dime, lost a sense of equilibrium and butt planted in Gatlinburg. My one witness, a fellow I call Jon Connor, isn't equipped to deal with my whining, so I bottled it up and relished in the satisfaction of knowing "that'll hurt tomorrow."
Well, tomorrow has been going on for a year now. Some women, like my older, sturdier, braver sister, break their tailbones doing things like giving birth, but some of us, well, we lose our balance. I've had bad days every now and then for the last year, but I'm usually able to get through it by sitting on the couch and ordering Chinese takeout. Today, though, nothing was working. Not even the sweet pot of tulips or the Black History Month card Mack got me.
I got home from work, where I sat down all day, and I couldn't sit down. I tried to sit on Mack's new motorcycle and realized that the extent of this injury and my neglecting it hoping it magically heals itself is ridiculous.
I get not being able to walk, not being able to stand, not being able to leap small buildings in a single bound... but not being able to sit, that is just humiliating. I think the busted tail bone is flaring up because I've been riding my bike to work, and since I *heart* my new bike, I have to deal with this butt bone issue asap. I'm, against my self-conscious judgment, going to invest in one of those hemorrhoid cushions until this crap gets better. I just hope they have one with skulls or swords on it so I don't feel like such a wimp.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Wanderlust (Part 1 in a Series)
Ever since Jamaica, regular life has just sucked. Knowing time isn't all it's cracked up to be. "Brisk" is just a word used to make cold sound snappier. And I hate cars more than ever.
If I could just give up my job and wander the world for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest person on earth. But since I only get 10 days of vacation a year and since my dog is barely hanging on even with my care, escaping doesn't happen as often as it should. As often as I neeeeeeeed it to. So instead of actually going anywhere, I'm going to spend the next few minutes virtually visiting one of the places I hope to visit someday in the near future -- like before 2010.
This is in Jukkasjärvi, Sweden, 200km inside the arctic circle.
You can only go to it in the winter because in the summer it's actually a whitewater river called the Torne River. But in December and January, artists and architects meet to create an igloo mansion under the Northern Lights, complete with ice beds, ice chairs, ice bars and ice art.
It's the coolest thing in the world during winter, and in the spring, it goes back to being a river, which is also cool. Now if I could just scrounge up the $800 a night to stay in this chiseled piece of modern art...
If I could just give up my job and wander the world for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest person on earth. But since I only get 10 days of vacation a year and since my dog is barely hanging on even with my care, escaping doesn't happen as often as it should. As often as I neeeeeeeed it to. So instead of actually going anywhere, I'm going to spend the next few minutes virtually visiting one of the places I hope to visit someday in the near future -- like before 2010.
This is in Jukkasjärvi, Sweden, 200km inside the arctic circle.
You can only go to it in the winter because in the summer it's actually a whitewater river called the Torne River. But in December and January, artists and architects meet to create an igloo mansion under the Northern Lights, complete with ice beds, ice chairs, ice bars and ice art.
It's the coolest thing in the world during winter, and in the spring, it goes back to being a river, which is also cool. Now if I could just scrounge up the $800 a night to stay in this chiseled piece of modern art...
Monday, January 14, 2008
Letters to the Cupboard (Part 1 in a Series)
Dear Poppin' Jalapeño Doritos,
I knew when I saw you in the grocery store that I should have just walked right past you, should have left you in that mound with your friends Taco/Ranch and Blue Cheese/Buffalo Wings, but my willpower self caved when my deal monger self caught sight of the 3 for $5 sign gracing Mount Doritos. Damn deal monger self.
I put you in my cart hoping that would shut you up and went through the store buying sensible things I don't eat in a puddle of shame. Morningstar sausage patties were $1 off, eggs were $1 cheaper than they were last week. As I stood in the checkout line unloading my cart I managed to resist the salty whisper of the PayDay bars and opted to use my purchase power to put a smile on Mack's face with a Crunch bar. It would have been a wholly successful trip to the grocery, complete with all the fixins for chili and bean salad, if not for you tarnishing my cart. What is it about you that I cannot resist?
As if the public disgrace at the grocery store wasn't bad enough, when I got home you put me into a trance so deep that I couldn't put the groceries away until you were devoured, until all evidence of my weakness was consumed, until all traces of a bag of corn chips having power over me were cleaned up. About 75% of the way through the bag, feeling like a junkie who's already injected too much, torn between a world of sobriety and one of thrilling impulse, I regained control and stuffed you into the cupboard where you should have been 8 servings earlier.
Yesterday I managed to ignore you all day, mostly because I was out of earshot. But today, the minute I walked in the door from work, you started up again. Crunchy, salty, ready. Your convenience and powdered flavor is just impossible to resist. You want to be good, I know you do. That's why you put the 0g Trans Fats on your packaging. But you aren't good. You are a very, very bad food. And you please need to shut up now.
Love,
Amber
I knew when I saw you in the grocery store that I should have just walked right past you, should have left you in that mound with your friends Taco/Ranch and Blue Cheese/Buffalo Wings, but my willpower self caved when my deal monger self caught sight of the 3 for $5 sign gracing Mount Doritos. Damn deal monger self.
I put you in my cart hoping that would shut you up and went through the store buying sensible things I don't eat in a puddle of shame. Morningstar sausage patties were $1 off, eggs were $1 cheaper than they were last week. As I stood in the checkout line unloading my cart I managed to resist the salty whisper of the PayDay bars and opted to use my purchase power to put a smile on Mack's face with a Crunch bar. It would have been a wholly successful trip to the grocery, complete with all the fixins for chili and bean salad, if not for you tarnishing my cart. What is it about you that I cannot resist?
As if the public disgrace at the grocery store wasn't bad enough, when I got home you put me into a trance so deep that I couldn't put the groceries away until you were devoured, until all evidence of my weakness was consumed, until all traces of a bag of corn chips having power over me were cleaned up. About 75% of the way through the bag, feeling like a junkie who's already injected too much, torn between a world of sobriety and one of thrilling impulse, I regained control and stuffed you into the cupboard where you should have been 8 servings earlier.
Yesterday I managed to ignore you all day, mostly because I was out of earshot. But today, the minute I walked in the door from work, you started up again. Crunchy, salty, ready. Your convenience and powdered flavor is just impossible to resist. You want to be good, I know you do. That's why you put the 0g Trans Fats on your packaging. But you aren't good. You are a very, very bad food. And you please need to shut up now.
Love,
Amber
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Do What?
To better understand what I am presently doing with my life from 9-6, M-F, take a look.
Because now that our own private site is what you would call "live," I, and any of my friends I've made do an interview with me, can embed videos into our blogs.
Capessa is joy. And technology. And I expect everyone I know to join.
Because now that our own private site is what you would call "live," I, and any of my friends I've made do an interview with me, can embed videos into our blogs.
Capessa is joy. And technology. And I expect everyone I know to join.
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