It's Fun to Work in an Office
There are many things I enjoy about working in an office environment. Take yesterday, for example. I was wearing a bright yellow scoop neck shirt with puffy sleeves that I bought at this awesome second-hand store in the Highlands. The first comment was made by my boss, the picture of sincerity: "Are you wearing my favorite shirt? Aww, you are! Gosh, I wish I could wear stuff like that."
After a solid hour of waiting for her to return with work as promised, I walked up to her desk where she was socializing with another, equally sincere co-worker. Staring at my shirt, Sincere Co-Worker asks with enthusiasm, "Are you going to have a sunshine-y day?!" I returned a blank stare in her direction and replied emphatically, "YES. YES I AM."
Other comments made by Sincere Boss in the last 5 work days also include, but are not limited to:
• "That skirt is soo cute. Did you lose weight?"
• "Is that new eye shadow? It's shiny."
Fun Quotes From A Weekend Visit With Family
• "I know how you guys just love music, and we have the BEST music at our church. You guys would just LOVE to come to a service some time." You betcha.
• "I call gay people 'flamers'." How wonderful and kind of you.
• "Do you want some bottled water?" x300.
• "I want a cousin!" As in, "You need to have a baby and provide one."
• "I'm never going to speak to _______ ever again." An old standard.
A Little Effing Credit
In case anybody's keeping track, I'd like to point out that in the name of keeping peace, I kept my internal dialogue internal. Just when I thought the dam of indemnity would burst and I would say something I really meant, I promptly excused myself and went to bed. All-in-all, a successful visit: no big fights and my dignity only minorly scathed. Several days of xanax and mind numbing activity to help erase my memory, and I should be back to normal.
Yep, It's Still Awesome
Owning a house centrally located to everywhere I need to go on a regular basis is still totally fucking amazing. Being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want, while answering to no one, is even better. It's the freest I've ever been in my whole entire insignificant little life. And I didn't even have to take over a third-world country.
9.25.2008
9.18.2008
Let Me Come On Home
I re-read those last few posts and I want to assure both of you readers that I am fine, and I won't be fleeing the state or jumping off any buildings. The funny thing about a breaking point is, once you reach it, you're suddenly filled with an eerie calm.
We'd been planning for months to take this past Friday and Monday off of work to camp in Asheville, NC with friends. But after Zoe did the canine equivalent of tearing her ACL, we couldn't in good conscience leave her with my mom for four days. She literally couldn't even hold herself up to go to the bathroom. Serious bummer. She's doing better though.
Given all we had left to do with our move, canceling was the right thing to do, though I would much rather have spent 4 days running around the woods, sleeping outside and cooking over a fire. We're in the home stretch now – by Sunday we should be completely moved. Then we can spend the rest of the year sorting through all the crap we shoved in boxes and didn't bother to look at, in an effort to get the job done as quickly as possible.
The new house rocks. Every time we get in the car to go some place, we can't believe how short our drive is. I'm not sure everyone can fully appreciate what this means to us, but it's huge. The layout of our house is so conducive to our pet situation, too, that I don't think we even realized when we put the offer in how well it would work. Having a basement where we can store stuff and put the litter boxes is awesome. Living on one floor is great for the dogs – no difficult stairs for them to climb. Plus, we've finally got a porch big enough to hang out on and a dining room with lots of seating that we've already used a bunch. Living closer and having spaces to hang out in means B & I get to be much more sociable. We like to cook for people and have parties, and we just couldn't do that very often living where we did. Things are a-changin'.
One drawback to the house is trying to park our van on our parking pad. The van is huge; the alley is not. B. accidentally bumped the fence and scraped up the side rail. If you don't do it just the right way, it takes about 50 turns to back it in. But we're starting to get the hang of it.
With all the chaos and stress of moving, it still hasn't totally sunk in what we've done. We just got our first mortgage payment though...something tells me it won't be long. Regardless, it feels great not to have to answer to anyone about anything. I feel like I'm finally where I've always wanted to be in life: independent and self sufficient. I don't owe nobody nothin' except the bank, and I don't have to hang out with them for holidays.
I'd offer more, but I'm gonna jump in my car and go home for lunch. Gonna play with the dogs and make food in the peace of my own kitchen.
We'd been planning for months to take this past Friday and Monday off of work to camp in Asheville, NC with friends. But after Zoe did the canine equivalent of tearing her ACL, we couldn't in good conscience leave her with my mom for four days. She literally couldn't even hold herself up to go to the bathroom. Serious bummer. She's doing better though.
Given all we had left to do with our move, canceling was the right thing to do, though I would much rather have spent 4 days running around the woods, sleeping outside and cooking over a fire. We're in the home stretch now – by Sunday we should be completely moved. Then we can spend the rest of the year sorting through all the crap we shoved in boxes and didn't bother to look at, in an effort to get the job done as quickly as possible.
The new house rocks. Every time we get in the car to go some place, we can't believe how short our drive is. I'm not sure everyone can fully appreciate what this means to us, but it's huge. The layout of our house is so conducive to our pet situation, too, that I don't think we even realized when we put the offer in how well it would work. Having a basement where we can store stuff and put the litter boxes is awesome. Living on one floor is great for the dogs – no difficult stairs for them to climb. Plus, we've finally got a porch big enough to hang out on and a dining room with lots of seating that we've already used a bunch. Living closer and having spaces to hang out in means B & I get to be much more sociable. We like to cook for people and have parties, and we just couldn't do that very often living where we did. Things are a-changin'.
One drawback to the house is trying to park our van on our parking pad. The van is huge; the alley is not. B. accidentally bumped the fence and scraped up the side rail. If you don't do it just the right way, it takes about 50 turns to back it in. But we're starting to get the hang of it.
With all the chaos and stress of moving, it still hasn't totally sunk in what we've done. We just got our first mortgage payment though...something tells me it won't be long. Regardless, it feels great not to have to answer to anyone about anything. I feel like I'm finally where I've always wanted to be in life: independent and self sufficient. I don't owe nobody nothin' except the bank, and I don't have to hang out with them for holidays.
I'd offer more, but I'm gonna jump in my car and go home for lunch. Gonna play with the dogs and make food in the peace of my own kitchen.
9.09.2008
I Want Action, Satisfaction
I am a woman of action. I don't like sitting around feeling miserable about one problem or another, waiting for a solution to present itself. And I tend to get impatient with others when they do, regardless of whether or not it's any of my business. I get what my Eastern KY/Southern IN mother refers to as a "wild hair" and decide I'm going to fix everything. And I'm going to do it right now, because if I have to sit around for one more minute thinking about it and not acting, I will lose my mind. Admittedly, patience is not my strongest virtue.
That's generally what's been happening to me over the last couple weeks. It's gotten worse as more things pile on, which they tend to do when you are juggling as many things as I am at the moment, until I have run myself ragged and become a giant anxious mess, trying to accomplish way more than one can reasonably expect themselves to do in a single day. As these things go, lack of sleep plays a sneakily big role in your perception of things and your ability to cope. Go without a good night's sleep long enough, and you'll find yourself on the roof of the nearest tall building, considering the fastest way down.
So that's why I'm taking a step back to take it all in.
Sure, we've got a pile of crap to sort and pack at the old house and a pile of crap to unpack and put away at the new house. And of course we're swamped with other commitments and likely won't accomplish those things in the next 2 weeks. Yes, due to our negligence, the ceiling fan we bought for the living room was installed in the studio, and in the process, the old ceiling fan was destroyed, so I'll have to drop $100 on another one. Of course the dog slipped on the pergo floor and tore her ACL and will have to be kept calm for months and may never walk without a limp again.
This is just par for the course, right?
The important thing is that I have running water, food and the health of my loved ones (minus an ACL). Autumn is near, the weather is cooler and good things are on the horizon. All I have to do is keep it together for a few more weeks. Just a few more weeks...
Anyone got an aspirin? Maybe an anvil you can drop on my head?
That's generally what's been happening to me over the last couple weeks. It's gotten worse as more things pile on, which they tend to do when you are juggling as many things as I am at the moment, until I have run myself ragged and become a giant anxious mess, trying to accomplish way more than one can reasonably expect themselves to do in a single day. As these things go, lack of sleep plays a sneakily big role in your perception of things and your ability to cope. Go without a good night's sleep long enough, and you'll find yourself on the roof of the nearest tall building, considering the fastest way down.
So that's why I'm taking a step back to take it all in.
Sure, we've got a pile of crap to sort and pack at the old house and a pile of crap to unpack and put away at the new house. And of course we're swamped with other commitments and likely won't accomplish those things in the next 2 weeks. Yes, due to our negligence, the ceiling fan we bought for the living room was installed in the studio, and in the process, the old ceiling fan was destroyed, so I'll have to drop $100 on another one. Of course the dog slipped on the pergo floor and tore her ACL and will have to be kept calm for months and may never walk without a limp again.
This is just par for the course, right?
The important thing is that I have running water, food and the health of my loved ones (minus an ACL). Autumn is near, the weather is cooler and good things are on the horizon. All I have to do is keep it together for a few more weeks. Just a few more weeks...
Anyone got an aspirin? Maybe an anvil you can drop on my head?
9.03.2008
Time Is On My Side
I just had the shortest drive to work I've had in ten years.
What do you people do with the extra 20 minutes?
A: Put your make-up on in the ladies room at the office, use the public hair brush to tame the bed head and realize you didn't put on deodorant this morning. And um, you smell bad.
Oh well. I'm moving. Gimme a break.
I have never been so glad to see a Labor Day weekend conclude in all my life. It was a looong, jam-packed weekend, and I am so glad I can finally concentrate on the things I really want to focus on.
•••••••••••••••
Brought the animals to the new house last night. Operation Fuzzy: Your mission? Coral 3 cats into a kennel barely large enough and move them, along with 2 dogs, all their food, medicines, beds and treats, safely and quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.
Marty, our feline who looooves our canines, popped right out of the crate at the new digs all, "Aahhh, yes, I totally approve. We can put my bed here, my food here, and yes, over here I will poop in the box..." Tommy U. Bastard stayed with his brother Lew in the crate for a good twenty minutes before slowly venturing out (most likely in search of food), all skittish and crouched low. But Lewis, well... He was pretty much, "I don't like it. I don't like it AT ALL. Eff you guys." By the time we were trying to sleep though, everybody was out and about, exploring, meowing, whining, scratching, jumping and running through the new house like a heard of caribou – just like old times!
•••••••
My poor little Gina is having a lot of trouble with her back legs. The vet thinks she's developing degenerative milopathy, which I'm still trying to figure out what to do about. I gather there's no cure, but I've read you can stave off the symptoms through massage and a special diet. I guess in German Shepherds this can develop into an auto immune disease, even more reason to act fast. If anyone has any info on this, I'd be interested to hear it. But anyway, it's making getting across slick floors really difficult for her, and our house has all pergo floors and some tile, so we're investing into rugs to help her get around easier. Breaks my heart. But I'm so glad I'm finally living close enough to run home at lunch and get there quickly after work to give both her and Zoe more attention. What will I do without my fuzzies someday?
A: Get suckered into more. Who am I kidding?
What do you people do with the extra 20 minutes?
A: Put your make-up on in the ladies room at the office, use the public hair brush to tame the bed head and realize you didn't put on deodorant this morning. And um, you smell bad.
Oh well. I'm moving. Gimme a break.
I have never been so glad to see a Labor Day weekend conclude in all my life. It was a looong, jam-packed weekend, and I am so glad I can finally concentrate on the things I really want to focus on.
•••••••••••••••
Brought the animals to the new house last night. Operation Fuzzy: Your mission? Coral 3 cats into a kennel barely large enough and move them, along with 2 dogs, all their food, medicines, beds and treats, safely and quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.
Marty, our feline who looooves our canines, popped right out of the crate at the new digs all, "Aahhh, yes, I totally approve. We can put my bed here, my food here, and yes, over here I will poop in the box..." Tommy U. Bastard stayed with his brother Lew in the crate for a good twenty minutes before slowly venturing out (most likely in search of food), all skittish and crouched low. But Lewis, well... He was pretty much, "I don't like it. I don't like it AT ALL. Eff you guys." By the time we were trying to sleep though, everybody was out and about, exploring, meowing, whining, scratching, jumping and running through the new house like a heard of caribou – just like old times!
•••••••
My poor little Gina is having a lot of trouble with her back legs. The vet thinks she's developing degenerative milopathy, which I'm still trying to figure out what to do about. I gather there's no cure, but I've read you can stave off the symptoms through massage and a special diet. I guess in German Shepherds this can develop into an auto immune disease, even more reason to act fast. If anyone has any info on this, I'd be interested to hear it. But anyway, it's making getting across slick floors really difficult for her, and our house has all pergo floors and some tile, so we're investing into rugs to help her get around easier. Breaks my heart. But I'm so glad I'm finally living close enough to run home at lunch and get there quickly after work to give both her and Zoe more attention. What will I do without my fuzzies someday?
A: Get suckered into more. Who am I kidding?
8.27.2008
We're On Lockdown At Our House
Ok, so those lyrics are my own, and to a song not even recorded, so there's absolutely no way you can reference this. But like Frankie says, "I do it my way."
********
We're buying a house. We close in two days. I have about 6 boxes packed.
So, um, yeah...
Last night, as we were lying on our dirty sheets, we asked ourselves when was the last time either of us took a shower. We couldn't remember. This morning we finally bathed (and even washed our hair), however, I failed to remember to brush my teeth. So I've been sitting here at work all day with a stale mouth and grimy teeth.
At home, there are boxes and things scattered everywhere. Along with a pile of dog shit on my front porch, left by aging Shepherd, who doesn't seem to realize when she's having a bowel movement anymore, and some cat puke on the last bit of carpet I plan to remove as soon as I can get everything else I have to do done. Things are a bit messy at the moment.
We're very excited about buying our first home. And a little nervous. There have been meltdowns and strained conversations and the kind of scene you totally make fun of other people for making, say, fighting in the mall parking lot in front of Sears on your way to purchase appliances. But for the most part, we are really, really excited.
This would be even more exciting (and undoubtedly include less meltdowns) had I not committed to doing 3000 favors for other people during the same week I am trying to buy a house. But I agreed to these things months ago, (probably out of some insecurity about being a good friend, saying no, and passing on opportunities to challenge myself) before I knew we'd find a home. Now I just gotta make lemonade out of dog poop.
So I would like to say, to all of my friends who bother to read my sarcastic dribble, that I like you very, very much. But I can't hang out right now. I can't come to your party, I'm not going to the show, I won't be at the bar for drinks, I can't go to the movie, and I can't help chaperone your little sister's party. As wonderful as it is to be liked and invited, I fear I may collapse under this pressure and find myself on some highway, alone in my car, thousands of miles from here, if I make one more commitment, however small. But I promise, when things return to normal in a week or so, I will do anything you want – make your invites, d.j. your reception, sing on your album, come to your show, watch your pets for you while you're out of town, give you a ride, you name it.
********
We're buying a house. We close in two days. I have about 6 boxes packed.
So, um, yeah...
Last night, as we were lying on our dirty sheets, we asked ourselves when was the last time either of us took a shower. We couldn't remember. This morning we finally bathed (and even washed our hair), however, I failed to remember to brush my teeth. So I've been sitting here at work all day with a stale mouth and grimy teeth.
At home, there are boxes and things scattered everywhere. Along with a pile of dog shit on my front porch, left by aging Shepherd, who doesn't seem to realize when she's having a bowel movement anymore, and some cat puke on the last bit of carpet I plan to remove as soon as I can get everything else I have to do done. Things are a bit messy at the moment.
We're very excited about buying our first home. And a little nervous. There have been meltdowns and strained conversations and the kind of scene you totally make fun of other people for making, say, fighting in the mall parking lot in front of Sears on your way to purchase appliances. But for the most part, we are really, really excited.
This would be even more exciting (and undoubtedly include less meltdowns) had I not committed to doing 3000 favors for other people during the same week I am trying to buy a house. But I agreed to these things months ago, (probably out of some insecurity about being a good friend, saying no, and passing on opportunities to challenge myself) before I knew we'd find a home. Now I just gotta make lemonade out of dog poop.
So I would like to say, to all of my friends who bother to read my sarcastic dribble, that I like you very, very much. But I can't hang out right now. I can't come to your party, I'm not going to the show, I won't be at the bar for drinks, I can't go to the movie, and I can't help chaperone your little sister's party. As wonderful as it is to be liked and invited, I fear I may collapse under this pressure and find myself on some highway, alone in my car, thousands of miles from here, if I make one more commitment, however small. But I promise, when things return to normal in a week or so, I will do anything you want – make your invites, d.j. your reception, sing on your album, come to your show, watch your pets for you while you're out of town, give you a ride, you name it.
8.14.2008
I Read The News Today, Oh Boy
I read this article as I was watching the minutes on the clock snake by, which lead me to this 2005 article.
You know how rock beats scissors and scissors beats paper? What beats this? Because I don't think the kind of artillery it would take to kill this sucker is street legal...
You know how rock beats scissors and scissors beats paper? What beats this? Because I don't think the kind of artillery it would take to kill this sucker is street legal...
8.11.2008
Going to California With An Aching In My Heart
Really, it's leaving California that puts an aching in my heart. So much so that I haven't even been able to post about the trip, and I've been home for a week.
If you live in the Midwest and have taken a vacation, you've likely gone to the East Coast – say to Florida, or North or South Carolina. And at the end of this vacation, you've likely felt some brief disappointment, lamenting what precious time you spent at the beach, surrounded by foreign vegetation and wildlife not found in our land-locked states. What I feel when I leave the great state of California far surpasses the conventional regret accompanied by the return home. It is soul-crushing. It's like coming home after years and years away – but just for a minute – and then you have to leave again.
I'm probably being melodramatic. I do love Indiana and Kentucky, their beauty and more affordable, somewhat slower-paced way of life. I often belt my war-cry, "I'm a Hoosier fa life!" mainly because there's such rivalry between these states in which I have dual lives, living in one and working in the other. But in my mind, they're pretty similar. I'm just partial to where I've lived the longest and gone to college.
I've been making trips to California for years. I have family just outside San Francisco, and until 2001, in Los Angeles. It was only on this last trip that I ventured farther north to Humboldt County.
Now, before we start cracking jokes about Marijuana Country, it's important to note that I was there for a destination wedding in the Redwood National Forest. This was not some hippie journey to find America's dankest weed. (Although we did that too.) This was a spiritual experience, not only because of the sacred event that brought us there, but because of our surroundings. Blue, blue water, giant ocean rocks, black sand, elk, redwoods, and acres and acres of forest filled with clown-sized clover leaves and banana slugs.
We arrived Wednesday night, a day late, thanks to US Airways and an awful, now kind of comical trip that I will likely blog about later when we're not pontificating the holy wonders of the west. We had a full day and a half to explore the area with the bride and groom before everyone else arrived. They picked us up from the airport, and after 3 hours of sleep and 10 hours of traveling, all we wanted was a hot shower, a non-airport meal and a bed.
But they had other plans. N & T had rented a convertible for their trip, which with the top down, left barely enough room for our luggage in the trunk. But it was worth it. Instead of taking us to the hotel, they drove us straight to Patrick's Point, a state park just off the 101. B & I didn't know where we were headed, but as we turned into the park, we instantly fell silent. It was like walking into church. The four of us made a short hike to Wedding Rock, where N & T kindly passed out local micro-beers, bread and black bean hummus. If only I could arrive with such a reception after every shitty airport experience.
On Friday we checked into a house in Trinidad. Not only did we have an incredible view of the Bay of Trinidad, but we could see whales swimming around at any given time. For Midwesterners who have never seen fish so large, this isn't merely environmental wallpaper. Throughout the day, more friends and family arrived, until our small group exploded into a chaotic, joyous party. Standing on the deck, local wine in hand, looking around at all the excited faces, I felt so grateful to be part of this experience.
Ours was a house of seven girls and B. (Lucky B.) These girls are almost ten years my junior, and I could only have hoped for one girlfriend as sweet and sincere as these girls at that point in my life, let alone 6. Getting ready for the wedding was THE girliest scene I think I've ever been part of – hair and make-up and clothes flying EVERYWHERE, everyone helping each other get ready, picking out jewelry, passing around the wine, giggling. It was awesome.
N & T's ceremony was by far THE best wedding ceremony I've ever witnessed. And not just for the obvious reason – standing in a clearing of a group of giant redwoods in Northern California – but also because it was the most personal ceremony I've seen. Before the vows, each of the parents had a little something to say about the bride and groom. Then the bride and groom shared a personal story about the other. Oh, we were all a mess. I didn't cry this much at my own damn wedding. All tears of joy, of course. For what's worth making a fool of yourself in a group more than witnessing the union of good friends and most importantly, two people who obviously couldn't be more perfect for each other. Ah, it's just gross, really. Wonderfully, beautifully gross. And I was honored to be one of just 25 folks to be there.
••••••••••••
On our last day, we took a trip to Fern Canyon. Literally, a canyon walled from top to bottom with ferns. And if that doesn't interest you, they apparently shot some of the Ewok scenes from Return of the Jedi there.
If you live in the Midwest and have taken a vacation, you've likely gone to the East Coast – say to Florida, or North or South Carolina. And at the end of this vacation, you've likely felt some brief disappointment, lamenting what precious time you spent at the beach, surrounded by foreign vegetation and wildlife not found in our land-locked states. What I feel when I leave the great state of California far surpasses the conventional regret accompanied by the return home. It is soul-crushing. It's like coming home after years and years away – but just for a minute – and then you have to leave again.
I'm probably being melodramatic. I do love Indiana and Kentucky, their beauty and more affordable, somewhat slower-paced way of life. I often belt my war-cry, "I'm a Hoosier fa life!" mainly because there's such rivalry between these states in which I have dual lives, living in one and working in the other. But in my mind, they're pretty similar. I'm just partial to where I've lived the longest and gone to college.
I've been making trips to California for years. I have family just outside San Francisco, and until 2001, in Los Angeles. It was only on this last trip that I ventured farther north to Humboldt County.
Now, before we start cracking jokes about Marijuana Country, it's important to note that I was there for a destination wedding in the Redwood National Forest. This was not some hippie journey to find America's dankest weed. (Although we did that too.) This was a spiritual experience, not only because of the sacred event that brought us there, but because of our surroundings. Blue, blue water, giant ocean rocks, black sand, elk, redwoods, and acres and acres of forest filled with clown-sized clover leaves and banana slugs.
We arrived Wednesday night, a day late, thanks to US Airways and an awful, now kind of comical trip that I will likely blog about later when we're not pontificating the holy wonders of the west. We had a full day and a half to explore the area with the bride and groom before everyone else arrived. They picked us up from the airport, and after 3 hours of sleep and 10 hours of traveling, all we wanted was a hot shower, a non-airport meal and a bed.
But they had other plans. N & T had rented a convertible for their trip, which with the top down, left barely enough room for our luggage in the trunk. But it was worth it. Instead of taking us to the hotel, they drove us straight to Patrick's Point, a state park just off the 101. B & I didn't know where we were headed, but as we turned into the park, we instantly fell silent. It was like walking into church. The four of us made a short hike to Wedding Rock, where N & T kindly passed out local micro-beers, bread and black bean hummus. If only I could arrive with such a reception after every shitty airport experience.
On Friday we checked into a house in Trinidad. Not only did we have an incredible view of the Bay of Trinidad, but we could see whales swimming around at any given time. For Midwesterners who have never seen fish so large, this isn't merely environmental wallpaper. Throughout the day, more friends and family arrived, until our small group exploded into a chaotic, joyous party. Standing on the deck, local wine in hand, looking around at all the excited faces, I felt so grateful to be part of this experience.
Ours was a house of seven girls and B. (Lucky B.) These girls are almost ten years my junior, and I could only have hoped for one girlfriend as sweet and sincere as these girls at that point in my life, let alone 6. Getting ready for the wedding was THE girliest scene I think I've ever been part of – hair and make-up and clothes flying EVERYWHERE, everyone helping each other get ready, picking out jewelry, passing around the wine, giggling. It was awesome.
N & T's ceremony was by far THE best wedding ceremony I've ever witnessed. And not just for the obvious reason – standing in a clearing of a group of giant redwoods in Northern California – but also because it was the most personal ceremony I've seen. Before the vows, each of the parents had a little something to say about the bride and groom. Then the bride and groom shared a personal story about the other. Oh, we were all a mess. I didn't cry this much at my own damn wedding. All tears of joy, of course. For what's worth making a fool of yourself in a group more than witnessing the union of good friends and most importantly, two people who obviously couldn't be more perfect for each other. Ah, it's just gross, really. Wonderfully, beautifully gross. And I was honored to be one of just 25 folks to be there.
••••••••••••
On our last day, we took a trip to Fern Canyon. Literally, a canyon walled from top to bottom with ferns. And if that doesn't interest you, they apparently shot some of the Ewok scenes from Return of the Jedi there.
7.08.2008
Happiness Is A Warm Gun
Yesterday was a stressful day for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that I left my house at 8:30 a.m. not to return until nearly midnight. Lack of sleep has left me running ragged today, and I find myself muttering under my breath in fits and starts about things I need to do, things I should have done, why people are so uncooperative, why they lack such basic common sense and just generally cursing for no other reason than the comfort it provides.
I need a vacation.
Earlier I shuffled sulkily into the ladies room and closed the door to my favorite stall, the one with the window. Sadly, it's the only view I get all day, unless I go outside, and it's also as close to a sanctuary as I'm going to find in the office. I muttered to myself that people have all kinds of worse problems, and I should be thankful I don't have any of those. I have a couple friends who work in the children's hospital, caring for kids with cancer on a daily basis. A bad day at work for them can mean someone actually dies. And here I am pettily complaining about my lack of sleep.
Still, we all need an attitude readjustment now and then. Fortunately, I leave for a trip to northern California three weeks from today. One of my dear friends is tying the knot, and I'm a bridesmaid. Although there will be errands to run and things to do and the kind of chaos that only occurs when you're traveling in a group, I expect the scenery alone will be a spiritual experience. I've never been this far north before, and California is one of my favorite places. My friends are getting married in the Redwood National Forest, and this will be the first time I've ever seen a redwood tree in person. I'm stoked! If only I could drive my Hummer all the way there, my a/c blasting and windows down, chain smoking and chucking fast food garbage out the window...
I need a vacation.
Earlier I shuffled sulkily into the ladies room and closed the door to my favorite stall, the one with the window. Sadly, it's the only view I get all day, unless I go outside, and it's also as close to a sanctuary as I'm going to find in the office. I muttered to myself that people have all kinds of worse problems, and I should be thankful I don't have any of those. I have a couple friends who work in the children's hospital, caring for kids with cancer on a daily basis. A bad day at work for them can mean someone actually dies. And here I am pettily complaining about my lack of sleep.
Still, we all need an attitude readjustment now and then. Fortunately, I leave for a trip to northern California three weeks from today. One of my dear friends is tying the knot, and I'm a bridesmaid. Although there will be errands to run and things to do and the kind of chaos that only occurs when you're traveling in a group, I expect the scenery alone will be a spiritual experience. I've never been this far north before, and California is one of my favorite places. My friends are getting married in the Redwood National Forest, and this will be the first time I've ever seen a redwood tree in person. I'm stoked! If only I could drive my Hummer all the way there, my a/c blasting and windows down, chain smoking and chucking fast food garbage out the window...
6.25.2008
Shiny, Happy People
I know, two posts in one day. But there are so many things wrong with this ad I came across on CNN today, I just had to share.
1. "It's So Easy"
Honey, ain't nothin' easy except for Sunday morning.
2. "Become an optimist"
Why, is my unobstructed view of our stark reality offensive to you?
3. "Follow these steps to be happier, healthier and more attractive"
Sounds great! Wait, is this woman in the picture a clear representation of where these steps will lead me? All this time trying to find the right skinny jeans, when what I really needed was a bow tie the size of my head. And nothing screams health and happiness better than a severe, unyielding grin of magnificent proportions. "DON'T WORRY! EVERYTHING IS GREAT!!! MOMMY'S GOING TO TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING, DARLING! Now, where is Mommy's gun?"
Don't Hit Me No More
~Mabel John
*******
Yesterday, as I was coming to life over a cup of coffee and the morning news, an "etiquette expert" was discussing the appropriateness of pantyhose. It appears to be gradually disappearing from the work place, thanks to a younger generation of women who have succumbed to the comfort and, let's face it, less-than-professional look of bare legs.
Oh, the vulgarity. The lewdness of foregoing this sheer, nude netting and leaving the bare, unchaste stems of your feminine flower exposed for all to see.
With a knowing shake of her head, she urges women everywhere to at least have the good sense to wear hose if you're going to be in front of a podium.
Ladies, be warned. Between the line of propriety and obscenity lies a sheer pair of nylons.
****
Do you hear that? It's the sound of the blood, sweat and tears of our fore-mothers being flushed down the toilet.
*******
Yesterday, as I was coming to life over a cup of coffee and the morning news, an "etiquette expert" was discussing the appropriateness of pantyhose. It appears to be gradually disappearing from the work place, thanks to a younger generation of women who have succumbed to the comfort and, let's face it, less-than-professional look of bare legs.
Oh, the vulgarity. The lewdness of foregoing this sheer, nude netting and leaving the bare, unchaste stems of your feminine flower exposed for all to see.
With a knowing shake of her head, she urges women everywhere to at least have the good sense to wear hose if you're going to be in front of a podium.
Ladies, be warned. Between the line of propriety and obscenity lies a sheer pair of nylons.
****
Do you hear that? It's the sound of the blood, sweat and tears of our fore-mothers being flushed down the toilet.
6.17.2008
I Can't Get Started
Ira Gershwin / Vernon Duke
I've been at work for about 2 hours and just noticed my jean skirt has a large dark stain down the front of it. Probably coffee. I seem to remember thinking to myself that I'd have to launder it ahead of schedule. Which is to say, somewhere between the 10th and 12th time wearing it.
I should probably care more, but the truth is, I was lounging around in my underwear with my husband, drinking coffee and watching bad television till the last possible minute this morning. And that was way more fun than sorting through my closet for clothes that:
a) are clean
b) fit right
c) aren't falling apart
And
my work
has
been
soooo
slooooooooooooow.
Seriously. It's maddening. I can feel my ass getting flatter and my eyes glazing over every minute I sit in front of this soul-sucking machine. Must. get. sunshine. and. fresh. air.
*********
My Zo dog had surgery to remove her tumor yesterday. We'll pick her up tonight. I cringe to think about her hobbling around, all dopey-eyed with her belly in stitches and her head in a E-collar.
This morning Gina sighed and rested her big fuzzy head heavily in my hand, looking up at me with those doe eyes. I couldn't have said it better myself. We don't like when our meatball of a dog is away from the family den.
**********
B & I drove and walked around a few neighborhoods where we may potentially move this past weekend. It was interesting. And encouraging. That's all I'll say for now. It's a busy week, so I have to focus on the here and now and let the rest simmer in my subconscious for a bit.
**********
I'm trying to read The Red Tent right now. So far, I'm about 3 pages in, and it's boring the fuck out of me. I'm sure having 8 years of Catholic Schools under my belt didn't exactly fuel my enthusiasm for a spin-off of a Bible story either. I'm going to finish it though, because I'm determined to see what the fuss is all about.
I've been at work for about 2 hours and just noticed my jean skirt has a large dark stain down the front of it. Probably coffee. I seem to remember thinking to myself that I'd have to launder it ahead of schedule. Which is to say, somewhere between the 10th and 12th time wearing it.
I should probably care more, but the truth is, I was lounging around in my underwear with my husband, drinking coffee and watching bad television till the last possible minute this morning. And that was way more fun than sorting through my closet for clothes that:
a) are clean
b) fit right
c) aren't falling apart
And
my work
has
been
soooo
slooooooooooooow.
Seriously. It's maddening. I can feel my ass getting flatter and my eyes glazing over every minute I sit in front of this soul-sucking machine. Must. get. sunshine. and. fresh. air.
*********
My Zo dog had surgery to remove her tumor yesterday. We'll pick her up tonight. I cringe to think about her hobbling around, all dopey-eyed with her belly in stitches and her head in a E-collar.
This morning Gina sighed and rested her big fuzzy head heavily in my hand, looking up at me with those doe eyes. I couldn't have said it better myself. We don't like when our meatball of a dog is away from the family den.
**********
B & I drove and walked around a few neighborhoods where we may potentially move this past weekend. It was interesting. And encouraging. That's all I'll say for now. It's a busy week, so I have to focus on the here and now and let the rest simmer in my subconscious for a bit.
**********
I'm trying to read The Red Tent right now. So far, I'm about 3 pages in, and it's boring the fuck out of me. I'm sure having 8 years of Catholic Schools under my belt didn't exactly fuel my enthusiasm for a spin-off of a Bible story either. I'm going to finish it though, because I'm determined to see what the fuss is all about.
6.10.2008
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
This morning we were halfway to work before B & I realized we were dressed almost identically. I wish I could say this was a rare occasion, but unfortunately, it happens with alarming regularity.
We'll have been married four years on Thursday. We've been dating for the last nine. I'm not making excuses, just sharing facts. It's disgusting, really. I keep waiting to be miserable like everyone suggests one becomes in marriage, but it just hasn't happened yet. It's probably just as well. It's much easier to live in a small house with five animals when everyone gets along.
********
We officially have a loan approval to buy a house. Just knowing I was going to send over our personal information to the lender today made my sleep fitful. I woke up anxious till my much calmer, more reasonable half pointed out we don't HAVE to do anything. That's good, because as anyone who knows me knows, I just hate being told my business.
********
Now that we're talking about moving, everything that I found insufficient or displeasing about our current home has been romanticized. For one thing, I never thought we had a very big yard till I started shopping for homes in the city. Turns out we've got a rather big lot. I've also been thinking about the pets, especially my elderly dogs. How will they adapt to a new home? How can I uproot them from the comfort and security of our cozy little den to the strangeness of a new neighborhood? And then I smack my forehead and remind myself that they're dogs. The only thing they care about is what time they're going to get dinner and how many treats they can scam out of me in the meantime.
But still, I know I will miss living here. I moved around a lot growing up, and this has been one of the most consistent places in my life. I have so many fond memories; climbing the sweet gum tree that used to be in the front yard, playing jacks on the front porch, my grandmother frying chicken, running around outside with my cousins, pulling grapes off the vines she used to grow, my brother telling ghost stories at bedtime, and sitting around the tiny kitchen with my family, the table set with iced tea and fresh sliced onions and tomatoes from her garden. There are even scents that occasionally still permeate the house and yard as they did decades earlier, and when they hit me, send me reeling into a dreamy state of nostalgia, for the family lost to age, illness and divorce and the time we spent together that seems altogether infinite and brief.
It's strange to think how seven years ago at 24, with the man I would eventually come to marry, I came abruptly and unexpectedly to live in this house as an adult; my grandmother buried only the year before. I remember turning onto the street in the middle of the night, utterly exhausted from hours of driving cross-country, wondering how the fuck I'd gotten myself into this mess. B was fresh out of college, and I wasn't much farther ahead. We were unemployed, broke and most likely clinically depressed. It took a few years before things really started to come together. We gradually cleaned up and redecorated the home, which had sat vacant for a year, my grandmother's furniture just as she'd left it, jackets and scarves still hung in closets, apples she'd canned herself still lining the pantry shelves. I can't quite express the mixture of joy and sadness I felt whenever I would open one of the jars to fry the apples, just as she had done for us so many times before. She was such a frugal woman, and it pleases me to think how delighted she would be that they didn't go to waste.
I have the sense that some of my cousins find it morbid or unsettling to be in her house since she passed, but I couldn't feel more different. She had nothing but love for her family, and I sense nothing but good vibrations in this little home that unbelievably housed two adults and four children for so many years, and somehow managed to accommodate all of us during so many Thanksgivings and Christmas' and Mother's Days. More than half a century ago, my grandfather, who died when my mother was just 17, arrived unannounced on the doorstep of this same house after being discharged at the end of World War II. He traveled by train from California and walked the few miles home, his Navy-issued metal suitcase in hand. Knocking on the front door so early in the morning, I can only imagine the shock and surprise when my grandmother opened the door and saw him standing there. And here I am, decades later, sitting on the same porch with my own husband.
.jpg)
This is me carrying my grandfather's suitcase.
I'm not sure what's going to become of it when we move. I don't think my mother, who is now the deed holder, has any intention of selling it. So it isn't like I won't be able to come back. And even if that day arrives, nothing can detract from the history of our experiences, which I find more valuable than anything tangible.
We'll have been married four years on Thursday. We've been dating for the last nine. I'm not making excuses, just sharing facts. It's disgusting, really. I keep waiting to be miserable like everyone suggests one becomes in marriage, but it just hasn't happened yet. It's probably just as well. It's much easier to live in a small house with five animals when everyone gets along.
********
We officially have a loan approval to buy a house. Just knowing I was going to send over our personal information to the lender today made my sleep fitful. I woke up anxious till my much calmer, more reasonable half pointed out we don't HAVE to do anything. That's good, because as anyone who knows me knows, I just hate being told my business.
********
Now that we're talking about moving, everything that I found insufficient or displeasing about our current home has been romanticized. For one thing, I never thought we had a very big yard till I started shopping for homes in the city. Turns out we've got a rather big lot. I've also been thinking about the pets, especially my elderly dogs. How will they adapt to a new home? How can I uproot them from the comfort and security of our cozy little den to the strangeness of a new neighborhood? And then I smack my forehead and remind myself that they're dogs. The only thing they care about is what time they're going to get dinner and how many treats they can scam out of me in the meantime.
But still, I know I will miss living here. I moved around a lot growing up, and this has been one of the most consistent places in my life. I have so many fond memories; climbing the sweet gum tree that used to be in the front yard, playing jacks on the front porch, my grandmother frying chicken, running around outside with my cousins, pulling grapes off the vines she used to grow, my brother telling ghost stories at bedtime, and sitting around the tiny kitchen with my family, the table set with iced tea and fresh sliced onions and tomatoes from her garden. There are even scents that occasionally still permeate the house and yard as they did decades earlier, and when they hit me, send me reeling into a dreamy state of nostalgia, for the family lost to age, illness and divorce and the time we spent together that seems altogether infinite and brief.
It's strange to think how seven years ago at 24, with the man I would eventually come to marry, I came abruptly and unexpectedly to live in this house as an adult; my grandmother buried only the year before. I remember turning onto the street in the middle of the night, utterly exhausted from hours of driving cross-country, wondering how the fuck I'd gotten myself into this mess. B was fresh out of college, and I wasn't much farther ahead. We were unemployed, broke and most likely clinically depressed. It took a few years before things really started to come together. We gradually cleaned up and redecorated the home, which had sat vacant for a year, my grandmother's furniture just as she'd left it, jackets and scarves still hung in closets, apples she'd canned herself still lining the pantry shelves. I can't quite express the mixture of joy and sadness I felt whenever I would open one of the jars to fry the apples, just as she had done for us so many times before. She was such a frugal woman, and it pleases me to think how delighted she would be that they didn't go to waste.
I have the sense that some of my cousins find it morbid or unsettling to be in her house since she passed, but I couldn't feel more different. She had nothing but love for her family, and I sense nothing but good vibrations in this little home that unbelievably housed two adults and four children for so many years, and somehow managed to accommodate all of us during so many Thanksgivings and Christmas' and Mother's Days. More than half a century ago, my grandfather, who died when my mother was just 17, arrived unannounced on the doorstep of this same house after being discharged at the end of World War II. He traveled by train from California and walked the few miles home, his Navy-issued metal suitcase in hand. Knocking on the front door so early in the morning, I can only imagine the shock and surprise when my grandmother opened the door and saw him standing there. And here I am, decades later, sitting on the same porch with my own husband.
.jpg)
This is me carrying my grandfather's suitcase.I'm not sure what's going to become of it when we move. I don't think my mother, who is now the deed holder, has any intention of selling it. So it isn't like I won't be able to come back. And even if that day arrives, nothing can detract from the history of our experiences, which I find more valuable than anything tangible.
6.04.2008
Almost Paradise
Yes, I just quoted the Love Theme from Footloose. Had the soundtrack on vinyl as a kid, because that's the kind of Footloose fan I am. I can't help that it's relevant, people.
*******
We spent the weekend around Indy, having a marathon visit with as many friends and family as we could possibly squeeze into a 48-hour period. We stayed with my in-laws, who live on 13 beautiful acres in a small town just outside the city. When we arrived late Friday evening, my mother-in-law, who is a fabulous cook, had hot homemade chicken and noodles waiting for us. Noodles that were made from scratch and chicken slow-cooked all day. It was amazing. Each morning we took a leisurely stroll around their property, coffee in hand, kids and dogs in tow. My father-in-law is a phenomenal gardener, and their property is something to behold. Gravel and stone walkways flow around tall pine trees and blooming flower beds. Honeysuckle and clematis cover the wood and copper trellis he constructed himself, under which B & I were married. Farther down the path is his workshop, filled with wood-working equipment, a handsome work bench he recently finished, made from wood found on their property, and a wood-burning stove. Two paned-glass windows overlook acres of green grass and a few fruit trees. Next to the workshop is the chicken coop. But this isn't any old coop with any old chickens. There are 4 or 5 breeds, and they are actually quite pretty. He built them their very own mini-house, green with white trim, with a side door leading to a small fenced yard, which our nephew kept climbing in and out of on his hands and knees (gross). Our niece made a game of trying to catch the chickens, and whichever one was unlucky enough to be caught was paraded around under her arm till we could coax her to put it back. Beside the chicken coop is the vegetable garden and a cold box for growing fresh greens year-round. Several acres beyond their house is where the former owner had planted Christmas trees for sale. Most of them have been cleared, but what's left is much too large to fit in anyone's living room. Between the aisles of trees the ground is blanketed with pine needles. I once had the rare pleasure of walking through there alone except for their little Shelty, when a grey-horned owl gracefully took flight from the top of a tree, startling both me and the dog. There's an acre or so of prairie and wild flowers and a path has been mowed between the prairie and trees for walking. Various bird houses are scattered around the property. Back toward the house, a labyrinth design, not unlike what you might find on the back of a cereal box, was carved out in an area of grass, and the kids jog the winding path covered in small white pebbles.
It's not a bad way to live. B & I are considering becoming home-owners ourselves, and after spending time in their little paradise, it's hard to decide between the peace of country living with a commute or the convenience of city living with smaller quarters. I expect I'll be debating more about this in blogs to come.
I'll leave you with a quote from Ben's mom, talking to her grandkids this weekend. If we ever have children, I should just accept that we're already doomed:
"Hurry up and finish your ice cream, kids, so we can go to the cupcake store!"
*******
We spent the weekend around Indy, having a marathon visit with as many friends and family as we could possibly squeeze into a 48-hour period. We stayed with my in-laws, who live on 13 beautiful acres in a small town just outside the city. When we arrived late Friday evening, my mother-in-law, who is a fabulous cook, had hot homemade chicken and noodles waiting for us. Noodles that were made from scratch and chicken slow-cooked all day. It was amazing. Each morning we took a leisurely stroll around their property, coffee in hand, kids and dogs in tow. My father-in-law is a phenomenal gardener, and their property is something to behold. Gravel and stone walkways flow around tall pine trees and blooming flower beds. Honeysuckle and clematis cover the wood and copper trellis he constructed himself, under which B & I were married. Farther down the path is his workshop, filled with wood-working equipment, a handsome work bench he recently finished, made from wood found on their property, and a wood-burning stove. Two paned-glass windows overlook acres of green grass and a few fruit trees. Next to the workshop is the chicken coop. But this isn't any old coop with any old chickens. There are 4 or 5 breeds, and they are actually quite pretty. He built them their very own mini-house, green with white trim, with a side door leading to a small fenced yard, which our nephew kept climbing in and out of on his hands and knees (gross). Our niece made a game of trying to catch the chickens, and whichever one was unlucky enough to be caught was paraded around under her arm till we could coax her to put it back. Beside the chicken coop is the vegetable garden and a cold box for growing fresh greens year-round. Several acres beyond their house is where the former owner had planted Christmas trees for sale. Most of them have been cleared, but what's left is much too large to fit in anyone's living room. Between the aisles of trees the ground is blanketed with pine needles. I once had the rare pleasure of walking through there alone except for their little Shelty, when a grey-horned owl gracefully took flight from the top of a tree, startling both me and the dog. There's an acre or so of prairie and wild flowers and a path has been mowed between the prairie and trees for walking. Various bird houses are scattered around the property. Back toward the house, a labyrinth design, not unlike what you might find on the back of a cereal box, was carved out in an area of grass, and the kids jog the winding path covered in small white pebbles.
It's not a bad way to live. B & I are considering becoming home-owners ourselves, and after spending time in their little paradise, it's hard to decide between the peace of country living with a commute or the convenience of city living with smaller quarters. I expect I'll be debating more about this in blogs to come.
I'll leave you with a quote from Ben's mom, talking to her grandkids this weekend. If we ever have children, I should just accept that we're already doomed:
"Hurry up and finish your ice cream, kids, so we can go to the cupcake store!"
6.03.2008
Let's Go Get Stoned
Let's Go Get Stoned, Ray Charles
Can someone please explain to me why it's perfectly legal to operate 1000lbs of machinery at 70 miles per hour down the expressway, high off cold medicine that makes you feel like adrenaline is coursing through your veins at lightning speed while simultaneously having an out-of-body experience, but I can't buy a bag of marijuana without being arrested?
Shit's fucked. But then, we already knew that.
Can someone please explain to me why it's perfectly legal to operate 1000lbs of machinery at 70 miles per hour down the expressway, high off cold medicine that makes you feel like adrenaline is coursing through your veins at lightning speed while simultaneously having an out-of-body experience, but I can't buy a bag of marijuana without being arrested?
Shit's fucked. But then, we already knew that.
5.15.2008
Dialing For Dollars Is Trying to Find Me
Mercedes Benz, Janis Joplin
Before I get into whatever this blog is really about...
Q. Why would you buy a Lexus, (a.k.a. a pricey Toyota), when you could buy a Mercedes Benz (a.k.a. a perfectly awesome piece of German machinery)?
A. Because you're a schmuck.
Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to something relatable, because I sure as shit can't afford either of those vehicles and neither can you.
Our economic stimulus checks arrived just in time to pay for an unexpected, astronomical vet bill. (Just doin' ma part to keep 'Merica goin'!) Zoe went downhill over the weekend. She had a reaction to what was probably "degranulation of the tumor" and swelled up like a balloon. The vet informed us the situation was life-threatening and she needed to be hospitalized. It was quite upsetting. She has since been released. The swelling is slowly going down and more meds are being given. We're in wait-and-see mode, though so far the prognosis seems manageable.
I realize my pets are elderly and will die soon. I accept this, because this is what is. Life and death go hand-in-hand. And aside from the fact I don't believe death is the end but merely a change, and that everything is everything, I think to resist acceptance of this reality is not only a disservice to yourself, it's a renunciation of all the other wonderful things we take from living.
I know, one minute I'm dropping the F-bomb and the next I'm spouting off Eastern philosophies. But this is my reality, and I'm not tailoring it so it fits more comfortably for you. And I should hope you do the same.
What I worry about more is being put in a position where the choices I have to make with my pets are less clear. Either let the dog suffer miserably, or put the dog to sleep. Either spend your life savings or let your dog die. These are tough problems but with relatively clear answers. But what do you do when the choice is to spend a chunk of money that you can afford and the prognosis is undetermined, not necessarily life-threatening?
I don't have an answer. I just try to make choices that allow me to sleep at night.
******
On a much happier note, we've been invited to a soiree this evening that includes free food and free beer from my second favorite brewing company. Since B's hours have increased at work, I've been spending many an afternoon here, waiting for my carpool. It's like I'm becoming a regular, which I haven't been anywhere since college, because I haven't lived close enough for any one place to be my regular watering hole. It's oddly comforting.
Before I get into whatever this blog is really about...
Q. Why would you buy a Lexus, (a.k.a. a pricey Toyota), when you could buy a Mercedes Benz (a.k.a. a perfectly awesome piece of German machinery)?
A. Because you're a schmuck.
Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to something relatable, because I sure as shit can't afford either of those vehicles and neither can you.
Our economic stimulus checks arrived just in time to pay for an unexpected, astronomical vet bill. (Just doin' ma part to keep 'Merica goin'!) Zoe went downhill over the weekend. She had a reaction to what was probably "degranulation of the tumor" and swelled up like a balloon. The vet informed us the situation was life-threatening and she needed to be hospitalized. It was quite upsetting. She has since been released. The swelling is slowly going down and more meds are being given. We're in wait-and-see mode, though so far the prognosis seems manageable.
I realize my pets are elderly and will die soon. I accept this, because this is what is. Life and death go hand-in-hand. And aside from the fact I don't believe death is the end but merely a change, and that everything is everything, I think to resist acceptance of this reality is not only a disservice to yourself, it's a renunciation of all the other wonderful things we take from living.
I know, one minute I'm dropping the F-bomb and the next I'm spouting off Eastern philosophies. But this is my reality, and I'm not tailoring it so it fits more comfortably for you. And I should hope you do the same.
What I worry about more is being put in a position where the choices I have to make with my pets are less clear. Either let the dog suffer miserably, or put the dog to sleep. Either spend your life savings or let your dog die. These are tough problems but with relatively clear answers. But what do you do when the choice is to spend a chunk of money that you can afford and the prognosis is undetermined, not necessarily life-threatening?
I don't have an answer. I just try to make choices that allow me to sleep at night.
******
On a much happier note, we've been invited to a soiree this evening that includes free food and free beer from my second favorite brewing company. Since B's hours have increased at work, I've been spending many an afternoon here, waiting for my carpool. It's like I'm becoming a regular, which I haven't been anywhere since college, because I haven't lived close enough for any one place to be my regular watering hole. It's oddly comforting.
5.06.2008
Insert Dead Flowers Quote Here
An update on The Red Devil: We met with the specialty vet, who was very encouraging, and Zoe is now scheduled for surgery next week. In the meantime, my dog and I are on the same acid reflux medication, and she's also taking enough benedryl that I feel sleepy just giving it to her. While we were waiting for the vet, I suddenly became acutely aware of how badly in need of a bath she is. Luckily for us, Red loves baths. Anything that involves touching and attention makes her uberly happy. How can you not love this creature? Quit fighting it. You won't win.
Seems like everyone around me, myself included, is still recovering from Derby weekend. We played a show Thursday night and didn't get home until after 3 a.m. Friday was a half-day at work, because in these parts, Derby is a holiday. Though not such a big holiday that they'd actually give us the entire day off, even though half the staff didn't even come in and the rest of us sat around for 3 hours doing absolutely nothing. Once again, I'd like to thank the company for allowing me to waste time and gas so as to keep the holiday pay quota to a min. Because I'm here for YOU. Friday my little girl cousin and her fiance (christ, I can't believe she's even old enough to get married legally) drove up from Indianapolis to visit and go to the infield for Derby. "Do you want to go to the infield?" No. No, I don't. We had a delicious dinner of pizza and beer at my favorite place and headed out for an evening of rock and roll. The youngins skee-daddled home before the end of the show, and us old fogies stayed out till nearly the break of dawn. I realized why it was that I never went out for Derby Eve in years past; all the shit-faced assholes. I nearly got into fisticuffs with a drunkard at the show who couldn't keep his hands off my lady friends. The ogling and the rude comments I can handle. The touching? Not so much. I confess I get a tad cranky in these kinds of situations. There's a lot of neck thrusting and dropping of the F-bomb. But the guy did leave us alone afterwards.
We stayed out so late, I was almost too tired to get in the car and drive home. One of my friends waited outside for a cab for 30 minutes, and when it finally showed up, this girl opens the door. My friend says, "Um, excuse me, but I think that's my cab." The girl retorts, "No, this is my cab," and climbs in the backseat, cigarette and beer in hand. Being the stand-up gal that I am, I couldn't very well make my friend wait for another one on a night as crazy as this, so I gave her a lift. It was in the opposite direction from where B & I were headed, and coupled with the torrential downpour, it made for a lengthy drive. We slept for a few hours, then I got up to help my cousin gather supplies for her day in the fiery pit of hell (otherwise known as the infield of the Kentucky Derby), then it was off to bed till about 4pm. We forced ourselves awake to watch some of the races, including THE race, made a valiant effort to get dressed and ready to go out again, then promptly changed our minds, got back in bed and rented movies off the tv. Home in bed, my favorite place.
In other news, some friends are getting married this weekend and I'm very much looking forward to their wedding. I love weddings. In large part, this is a projection of my own feelings about being in love and happy and wanting everyone I know to find someone who makes them feel all the good things I feel. What's more wonderful than watching two people who truly care for each other pledge their undying love and commitment? Plus, there's the added bonus of getting to wear a super cute dress that I've only been able to wear once and for which I have the perfect shoes to match. However, if for some reason, (say, all the junk food I ate on tour and the complete lack of exercise I've had) I can't fit into the dress, I will likely have a very different take on the day. Maybe I shouldn't have drank 3 pints of beer and had that 300-calorie, 20-grams-of-fat nutty bar from the vending machine yesterday. Mmmm...beer and nutty bars.
Seems like everyone around me, myself included, is still recovering from Derby weekend. We played a show Thursday night and didn't get home until after 3 a.m. Friday was a half-day at work, because in these parts, Derby is a holiday. Though not such a big holiday that they'd actually give us the entire day off, even though half the staff didn't even come in and the rest of us sat around for 3 hours doing absolutely nothing. Once again, I'd like to thank the company for allowing me to waste time and gas so as to keep the holiday pay quota to a min. Because I'm here for YOU. Friday my little girl cousin and her fiance (christ, I can't believe she's even old enough to get married legally) drove up from Indianapolis to visit and go to the infield for Derby. "Do you want to go to the infield?" No. No, I don't. We had a delicious dinner of pizza and beer at my favorite place and headed out for an evening of rock and roll. The youngins skee-daddled home before the end of the show, and us old fogies stayed out till nearly the break of dawn. I realized why it was that I never went out for Derby Eve in years past; all the shit-faced assholes. I nearly got into fisticuffs with a drunkard at the show who couldn't keep his hands off my lady friends. The ogling and the rude comments I can handle. The touching? Not so much. I confess I get a tad cranky in these kinds of situations. There's a lot of neck thrusting and dropping of the F-bomb. But the guy did leave us alone afterwards.
We stayed out so late, I was almost too tired to get in the car and drive home. One of my friends waited outside for a cab for 30 minutes, and when it finally showed up, this girl opens the door. My friend says, "Um, excuse me, but I think that's my cab." The girl retorts, "No, this is my cab," and climbs in the backseat, cigarette and beer in hand. Being the stand-up gal that I am, I couldn't very well make my friend wait for another one on a night as crazy as this, so I gave her a lift. It was in the opposite direction from where B & I were headed, and coupled with the torrential downpour, it made for a lengthy drive. We slept for a few hours, then I got up to help my cousin gather supplies for her day in the fiery pit of hell (otherwise known as the infield of the Kentucky Derby), then it was off to bed till about 4pm. We forced ourselves awake to watch some of the races, including THE race, made a valiant effort to get dressed and ready to go out again, then promptly changed our minds, got back in bed and rented movies off the tv. Home in bed, my favorite place.
In other news, some friends are getting married this weekend and I'm very much looking forward to their wedding. I love weddings. In large part, this is a projection of my own feelings about being in love and happy and wanting everyone I know to find someone who makes them feel all the good things I feel. What's more wonderful than watching two people who truly care for each other pledge their undying love and commitment? Plus, there's the added bonus of getting to wear a super cute dress that I've only been able to wear once and for which I have the perfect shoes to match. However, if for some reason, (say, all the junk food I ate on tour and the complete lack of exercise I've had) I can't fit into the dress, I will likely have a very different take on the day. Maybe I shouldn't have drank 3 pints of beer and had that 300-calorie, 20-grams-of-fat nutty bar from the vending machine yesterday. Mmmm...beer and nutty bars.
4.27.2008
Your Name Is Big Brother
More trials and tribulations of pet ownership. Off and on over the last year, we occasionally have to take our red dog to the vet to have some lumps inspected. She has been cancer-free for about two years or so, but she's a lumpy girl, and I don't have the qualifications to determine fatty cysts vs. mast cell tumors. Shortly after we got home from tour, I noticed a new lump on her side. Over the past two weeks, we've been to the vet's office three times; once to inspect the lump, once for testing and finally, for surgery. Hours after I jogged along side Zoe as she sprinted gleefully into the vets office, we get a call saying surgery must be postponed, because of some swelling and bruising they discovered after they shaved the area in preparation. Monday morning she must go back for more tests and then Wednesday we'll go to the specialty vet to consult with her on the next step.
It's a lot of running around during work hours, and even more so because of how far we live from...well, everything. Luckily, B's work is very easy going, as they have to be, considering how frequently they hire and lay off people. I mean, there's gotta be some perk for working in an environment void of stability. Last week 21 people were laid off. Same time of year I was laid off from the same company four years ago. (There have been plenty more hirings and firings in between as well.) The Fridays that were cut from B's schedule have now been returned. Seems they're short on help.
My work is trickier. They like to think they're understanding, but in reality, it's much more complex. Or perhaps a better term would be "passive aggressive." Even though I spent three-quarters of last week with NOTHING to do, it was necessary to stop me on my way out to pick up my dog so that I could send an email to both my boss (who knew I was leaving and why) and HR to let them know I was leaving work two hours early. Even though those people sit ten feet apart and could practically whisper to each other, and even though work was extremely slow, we mustn't miss an opportunity to document how we did you this favor in case we need to hold it against you later.
It's a lot of running around during work hours, and even more so because of how far we live from...well, everything. Luckily, B's work is very easy going, as they have to be, considering how frequently they hire and lay off people. I mean, there's gotta be some perk for working in an environment void of stability. Last week 21 people were laid off. Same time of year I was laid off from the same company four years ago. (There have been plenty more hirings and firings in between as well.) The Fridays that were cut from B's schedule have now been returned. Seems they're short on help.
My work is trickier. They like to think they're understanding, but in reality, it's much more complex. Or perhaps a better term would be "passive aggressive." Even though I spent three-quarters of last week with NOTHING to do, it was necessary to stop me on my way out to pick up my dog so that I could send an email to both my boss (who knew I was leaving and why) and HR to let them know I was leaving work two hours early. Even though those people sit ten feet apart and could practically whisper to each other, and even though work was extremely slow, we mustn't miss an opportunity to document how we did you this favor in case we need to hold it against you later.
4.15.2008
Where My Thoughts Escape
Home, sweet home! Sleeping in my bed and using my own shower never felt so good. It was a fantastic ten-day break from reality, long enough to surrender myself completely to life on the road, but not so long that I forgot how wonderful it feels to be back in familiar surroundings. Our last show was a doozie. We played with 3 awesome acts to the largest crowd we'd had all week, won over some people and even sold several copies of our new record. Giddy from the successful night, we stayed up with our new friends and hosts till about 4:30 am, when it finally dawned on me that we had to leave by 8am in order to make the 14 hour drive home by a reasonable hour. I quickly corralled us into bed, set my cell phone alarm for 7:45am and slept in the clothes I played in.
Our hosts were three gay men. I heard someone joke that staying with a gay couple is definitely the way to go on tour, because they're house will be clean and they'll have cable. Joking aside, after having spent the majority of last nine days sleeping on the floors of friends and strangers, I have to say these men were by far some of the better hosts. In addition to offering us 2 extra beds to stay in and cooking up a couple pizzas for all of us after the show, they insisted on programming their coffee maker for our early departure, offered us clean towels and washcloths (you have no idea how much this is appreciated) and even put together a care package of fruit, scones and bagels for us to take. We barely know these people, and this is the kindness they offered us. Ironically, this is exactly the sort of kindness a certain prophet, whose name millions of followers use for the denunciation of homosexuality, would have done for strangers himself. Good thing we're excluding the gays from equal rights; I'd really hate for that kind of icky good will to seep its way in and poison our ever-altruistic society. But I digress.
Our 14-hour drive turned into a 16-hour drive with all the stops for food, gas and bathrooms, and we arrived back in the Bluegrass around midnight. After unloading and dropping off the mates, B & I walked through the door of our little house around 1 am. I dropped to the floor and all the pets surrounded us in greeting. Gina went straight for her favorite toy, a once-squeaky barbell, and began pushing it against me repeatedly, while Zoe jumped on me and began half licking, half nibbling my face. Once we got in bed, Lewis, one of our three cats, decided he needed to re-establish his position as "Top Cat" by chasing this brothers away and returning to nestle between us with a smug look on his face. Oh, it's good to be loved. And so good to be home.
Our hosts were three gay men. I heard someone joke that staying with a gay couple is definitely the way to go on tour, because they're house will be clean and they'll have cable. Joking aside, after having spent the majority of last nine days sleeping on the floors of friends and strangers, I have to say these men were by far some of the better hosts. In addition to offering us 2 extra beds to stay in and cooking up a couple pizzas for all of us after the show, they insisted on programming their coffee maker for our early departure, offered us clean towels and washcloths (you have no idea how much this is appreciated) and even put together a care package of fruit, scones and bagels for us to take. We barely know these people, and this is the kindness they offered us. Ironically, this is exactly the sort of kindness a certain prophet, whose name millions of followers use for the denunciation of homosexuality, would have done for strangers himself. Good thing we're excluding the gays from equal rights; I'd really hate for that kind of icky good will to seep its way in and poison our ever-altruistic society. But I digress.
Our 14-hour drive turned into a 16-hour drive with all the stops for food, gas and bathrooms, and we arrived back in the Bluegrass around midnight. After unloading and dropping off the mates, B & I walked through the door of our little house around 1 am. I dropped to the floor and all the pets surrounded us in greeting. Gina went straight for her favorite toy, a once-squeaky barbell, and began pushing it against me repeatedly, while Zoe jumped on me and began half licking, half nibbling my face. Once we got in bed, Lewis, one of our three cats, decided he needed to re-establish his position as "Top Cat" by chasing this brothers away and returning to nestle between us with a smug look on his face. Oh, it's good to be loved. And so good to be home.
4.08.2008
Living Just Enough For The City
Day five: a night off.
Crashing at the Ho Jo's tonight. A pricier choice than some, but considering the size of these boys, they're more liable to spoon themselves to sleep in a double, and this place offers two queens. The Lancaster Brewery is just next door, beckoning us from the moment we arrived. After showers, a nap and a little email, we dined on decent Italian food at La Piazza. The servings were so huge, 3 out of 4 of us had leftovers to go. There's a fridge and a microwave in the hotel room, but the restaurant offered foil pans and styrafoam, neither of which are microwaveable, so I had to, um, borrow a couple appetizer plates from them. But I fully intend to bring them back, I swear, I just don't want to burn down our room at the Ho Jo's while we're visiting the state capital of Pennsylvania. (Seems like Philly may have gotten the short end of the stick here, as it is Harrisburg, not the former capital of the new nation, that is the state's capital. WTF?)
Last night we played Pittsburgh with another band from our town and a local, both good, though unfortunately, we were practically our only audience. Still, we had a great time and a lot to drink, and managed to deliver an enthusiastic performance, albeit a sloppy one at times. Afterwards, we crashed with a friend of a friend whom we'd never met but was generous enough to offer two rooms with a bed and a futon. We've had to rely on the hospitality of others often this trip, and it's doing quite a bit to improve faith in my fellow man and woman. We've seen many good friends the past few days, made some new ones, and even got to see a some of my family.
Tonight is busy at the Ho Jo's, and the highway sounds outside the glass door to our balcony. The fellas have gone to the brewery, while I have elected not to spend yet another night hanging out in a bar. The restaurant was BYOB, and since I chose to stay in, I've co-opted the two beers we didn't drink with dinner. I sorted and repacked my suitcase while I watched the History channel in my jammies. I'm not that prissy, but I'm also not ashamed to tell you how good it feels to sleep in a clean, quiet place and have a bit of time to yourself. In another city...in another state..away from the dull reality of the day-to-day. We have five days left of the trip and already I'm feeling nostalgic to tour again. The thought of going back to work is so far from my mind. I could get used to this life on the road. As much as I love being home and having my own space, there's something very primal about the urge to keep moving. And that boy I love is here. What's better than that?
Tomorrow it's off to the Jersey beach for a show and then to NYC for a couple days. Looking forward to hanging in the city and seeing old friends.
Crashing at the Ho Jo's tonight. A pricier choice than some, but considering the size of these boys, they're more liable to spoon themselves to sleep in a double, and this place offers two queens. The Lancaster Brewery is just next door, beckoning us from the moment we arrived. After showers, a nap and a little email, we dined on decent Italian food at La Piazza. The servings were so huge, 3 out of 4 of us had leftovers to go. There's a fridge and a microwave in the hotel room, but the restaurant offered foil pans and styrafoam, neither of which are microwaveable, so I had to, um, borrow a couple appetizer plates from them. But I fully intend to bring them back, I swear, I just don't want to burn down our room at the Ho Jo's while we're visiting the state capital of Pennsylvania. (Seems like Philly may have gotten the short end of the stick here, as it is Harrisburg, not the former capital of the new nation, that is the state's capital. WTF?)
Last night we played Pittsburgh with another band from our town and a local, both good, though unfortunately, we were practically our only audience. Still, we had a great time and a lot to drink, and managed to deliver an enthusiastic performance, albeit a sloppy one at times. Afterwards, we crashed with a friend of a friend whom we'd never met but was generous enough to offer two rooms with a bed and a futon. We've had to rely on the hospitality of others often this trip, and it's doing quite a bit to improve faith in my fellow man and woman. We've seen many good friends the past few days, made some new ones, and even got to see a some of my family.
Tonight is busy at the Ho Jo's, and the highway sounds outside the glass door to our balcony. The fellas have gone to the brewery, while I have elected not to spend yet another night hanging out in a bar. The restaurant was BYOB, and since I chose to stay in, I've co-opted the two beers we didn't drink with dinner. I sorted and repacked my suitcase while I watched the History channel in my jammies. I'm not that prissy, but I'm also not ashamed to tell you how good it feels to sleep in a clean, quiet place and have a bit of time to yourself. In another city...in another state..away from the dull reality of the day-to-day. We have five days left of the trip and already I'm feeling nostalgic to tour again. The thought of going back to work is so far from my mind. I could get used to this life on the road. As much as I love being home and having my own space, there's something very primal about the urge to keep moving. And that boy I love is here. What's better than that?
Tomorrow it's off to the Jersey beach for a show and then to NYC for a couple days. Looking forward to hanging in the city and seeing old friends.
4.04.2008
Then As It Was, Then Again It Will Be
"...An' though the course may change sometimes/Rivers always reach the sea"
Ten Years Gone, Led Zeppelin
It must be the time of year, but lately my head is flooded with memories of days passed. The newness of spring inspires me to take inventory and make changes. I've been thinking a lot about the things I complain about, wondering what's at the root of my dissatisfaction. It's a restlessness probably typical of the change in seasons, but no less valid. I'm experiencing nostalgia for old friends, places I used to live – but at the same time, having no desire to go back. The future holds too much allure for me, and the present demands my attention. I've been thinking a lot about the people I'm surrounded by and how naturally their energy affects my state of mind. I wonder what message my own energy sends. Yesterday a guy in a giant Hummer (boy, isn't that redundant) jumped lanes and nearly side-swiped my little VW. Without thinking twice, I simultaneously laid into the horn and gave the Italian salute, while offering him a few choice expletives. Not that it wasn't a dickhead move, and clearly it takes a certain type of personality to drive such a monstrosity with flagrant disregard for it's environmental and economic consequences, but I'm thinking this is not what Krishna had in mind when he was guiding Arjuna into battle.
And then, if I broaden the scope, I think about how across the ocean, on an entirely separate continent, there are millions of people coping with rampant infections of the AIDS virus and mass genocide, while I'm driving around in my $20k import on the way home from my job to a house with a yard and clean water, angrily flipping the bird to my fellow man. It's ridiculous. And it's a conundrum, really, because we can't change our American reality. Well, we can, but not all at once, and only with some cooperation. My dad is famous in our family for his deadpan response to hearing the craziest of situations and responding with a shake of his head and the reminder, "Everybody's got problems."
I can't fix everything I'd like to, but I can control the role I play and the energy I give off and the people who surround me. So that's what I'm thinking about.
In a few hours I'll be staring at miles of highway, searching the grey concrete for incite. I'll let you know if I come up with any.
Ten Years Gone, Led Zeppelin
It must be the time of year, but lately my head is flooded with memories of days passed. The newness of spring inspires me to take inventory and make changes. I've been thinking a lot about the things I complain about, wondering what's at the root of my dissatisfaction. It's a restlessness probably typical of the change in seasons, but no less valid. I'm experiencing nostalgia for old friends, places I used to live – but at the same time, having no desire to go back. The future holds too much allure for me, and the present demands my attention. I've been thinking a lot about the people I'm surrounded by and how naturally their energy affects my state of mind. I wonder what message my own energy sends. Yesterday a guy in a giant Hummer (boy, isn't that redundant) jumped lanes and nearly side-swiped my little VW. Without thinking twice, I simultaneously laid into the horn and gave the Italian salute, while offering him a few choice expletives. Not that it wasn't a dickhead move, and clearly it takes a certain type of personality to drive such a monstrosity with flagrant disregard for it's environmental and economic consequences, but I'm thinking this is not what Krishna had in mind when he was guiding Arjuna into battle.
And then, if I broaden the scope, I think about how across the ocean, on an entirely separate continent, there are millions of people coping with rampant infections of the AIDS virus and mass genocide, while I'm driving around in my $20k import on the way home from my job to a house with a yard and clean water, angrily flipping the bird to my fellow man. It's ridiculous. And it's a conundrum, really, because we can't change our American reality. Well, we can, but not all at once, and only with some cooperation. My dad is famous in our family for his deadpan response to hearing the craziest of situations and responding with a shake of his head and the reminder, "Everybody's got problems."
I can't fix everything I'd like to, but I can control the role I play and the energy I give off and the people who surround me. So that's what I'm thinking about.
In a few hours I'll be staring at miles of highway, searching the grey concrete for incite. I'll let you know if I come up with any.
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