Well, well, well, another NaBlo under my belt! During a very busy month, too. Not all my posts were super quality but it's really helped me get back into making blogging a part of my schedule. I miss it when I don't.
I won't lie. I'm really tired and sort of lacking for subject matter today. I didn't sleep a wink on Saturday night, which is strange for me, and yesterday we spent five hours on the road (well, I did catch a few winks in the car), and then we had to feed our LOST addiction.
I FINALLY understand what the deal is with that show! Wow, talk about sucking you in with its bizarreness. I'm about halfway through the first season (thank you again Netflix) with William and we are totally, completely obsessed. He has to work late tonight and I'm anxiously awaiting him to come home so we can at least watch one show.
Otherwise, I'm gearing up for my first full month at the gym. Tomorrow is an hour of cardio and an hour of weightlifting. So far, the scale hasn't budged, but I do feel like I can see some very minor changes. So, hey! It's something.
OK, really, I think I'm down to about six brain cells. More tomorrow.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thank you for Being a Friend
This weekend, William and I met Dorothy and Don, Mae and Liz, a priest (who blessed us), and touched a baseball that Yogi Berra and Whitey Ford signed.
We talked about institutional food, military medals, 100-year-old photos of long-gone, distant relatives, practiced our two-phrase Polish vocabulary, were vigorously hugged and kissed, and ate dinner at 4:30 and got ready for breakfast at 8 sharp. We were stared at, reached out to, and thanked. We were asked to speak up and step closer. A lot.
Above all, we were thanked.
I guess that's not what I expected.
William's grandparents recently moved into an independent senior living complex in South Dakota, not too terribly far from their last home, and the home before that, a sprawling farm. Life has changed a lot for them since the farming days they know and love. It's hard accepting that you don't or can't do the work that you're used to. It's hard to wonder what you do next with your time and feeling like you have limited options.
There are a lot of people in their building who feel that way. Some were nuns, and helped the sick. Some were farmers. Some have kids spread across the country. Some served in WWII and can now talk about their days overseas, while they couldn't as young men. One man told me: "My daughters, they married lawyers. They have money that I could never imagine, while we hang on to whatever we got as hard as we can," clutching his fists in the air for emphasis. He sat close to me, nearly touching my face, because about two years ago, he began rapidly losing his sight. He told us about his medals, but only after we described what they looked like and what they said. THAT he remembered.
Then there was Liz. Liz was a nun who left the convent when her mother was dying. The nuns wouldn't let her leave, so she quit. She was lucky enough to meet the famed Yankees players Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra while working as a nurse in Rochester, Minnesota, with the photo and baseball to prove it. "You can kiss it," she told us, "if you want to." Then she laughed and took us on a tour of her favorite artwork, interrupting herself only long enough to take us to a friends' apartment upstairs, who made lots of beautiful things herself. She was about to get in the shower, but she put her "housecoat" on, and received us like we were old family.
We shook hands with strangers in the chapel, strangers who thanked us later for coming to shake their hands. We heard life stories, life sorrows. But always at the end, "But now you're here. And you just made my day." Or, "I'm so glad you are here. I feel like I know you already."
If you think you can't make a difference without spending a lot of money—If you think you can't do it without spending a lot of time—If you just don't ever get around to it, but you think you want to.
There are lots of seniors out there, who have memories to share and lives not yet fully lived (and they're fascinating). And they love young people, even if they're crotchety or don't see or walk so well. And if you just make eye contact, you have a new friend. A new friend dying to show you a cookie recipe or a ceramic pot or photos of their kids. A new friend who wants to know all about you and your life. A friend who needs a hug and a kiss, and maybe a "peace be with you."
William and I are lucky to have grandparents that are well and with it, even in their eighties and nineties. It's a treasure trove of stories, lessons learned, love, and kindness. And good recipes and laughs and chats about politics or what life was like, or how crazy life is now, or how good communities are built. (Watch a 92-year-old man talk about, and proficiently work, a cell phone. It's a trip.) Old men flirt better than anyone in the world. Grandmas just want to be that—grandmas.
But not all of these people have that. And they're starving for it—whatever it is that you have to offer. Not money, not gifts. Just your conversation and attention. And maybe you'd make a good friend. By just being you, by just being there, by just showing you're interested, you've made a friend for life. And you've made someone's day—someone who maybe feels like they don't have much purpose anymore.
It's a win-win. Because you'll walk away feeling like you have a purpose too, one that isn't an obligatory get-through-the-day, pay-the-bills one. A really important one, even if it's just a genuine five minutes of your time.
We talked about institutional food, military medals, 100-year-old photos of long-gone, distant relatives, practiced our two-phrase Polish vocabulary, were vigorously hugged and kissed, and ate dinner at 4:30 and got ready for breakfast at 8 sharp. We were stared at, reached out to, and thanked. We were asked to speak up and step closer. A lot.
Above all, we were thanked.
I guess that's not what I expected.
William's grandparents recently moved into an independent senior living complex in South Dakota, not too terribly far from their last home, and the home before that, a sprawling farm. Life has changed a lot for them since the farming days they know and love. It's hard accepting that you don't or can't do the work that you're used to. It's hard to wonder what you do next with your time and feeling like you have limited options.
There are a lot of people in their building who feel that way. Some were nuns, and helped the sick. Some were farmers. Some have kids spread across the country. Some served in WWII and can now talk about their days overseas, while they couldn't as young men. One man told me: "My daughters, they married lawyers. They have money that I could never imagine, while we hang on to whatever we got as hard as we can," clutching his fists in the air for emphasis. He sat close to me, nearly touching my face, because about two years ago, he began rapidly losing his sight. He told us about his medals, but only after we described what they looked like and what they said. THAT he remembered.
Then there was Liz. Liz was a nun who left the convent when her mother was dying. The nuns wouldn't let her leave, so she quit. She was lucky enough to meet the famed Yankees players Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra while working as a nurse in Rochester, Minnesota, with the photo and baseball to prove it. "You can kiss it," she told us, "if you want to." Then she laughed and took us on a tour of her favorite artwork, interrupting herself only long enough to take us to a friends' apartment upstairs, who made lots of beautiful things herself. She was about to get in the shower, but she put her "housecoat" on, and received us like we were old family.
We shook hands with strangers in the chapel, strangers who thanked us later for coming to shake their hands. We heard life stories, life sorrows. But always at the end, "But now you're here. And you just made my day." Or, "I'm so glad you are here. I feel like I know you already."
If you think you can't make a difference without spending a lot of money—If you think you can't do it without spending a lot of time—If you just don't ever get around to it, but you think you want to.
There are lots of seniors out there, who have memories to share and lives not yet fully lived (and they're fascinating). And they love young people, even if they're crotchety or don't see or walk so well. And if you just make eye contact, you have a new friend. A new friend dying to show you a cookie recipe or a ceramic pot or photos of their kids. A new friend who wants to know all about you and your life. A friend who needs a hug and a kiss, and maybe a "peace be with you."
William and I are lucky to have grandparents that are well and with it, even in their eighties and nineties. It's a treasure trove of stories, lessons learned, love, and kindness. And good recipes and laughs and chats about politics or what life was like, or how crazy life is now, or how good communities are built. (Watch a 92-year-old man talk about, and proficiently work, a cell phone. It's a trip.) Old men flirt better than anyone in the world. Grandmas just want to be that—grandmas.
But not all of these people have that. And they're starving for it—whatever it is that you have to offer. Not money, not gifts. Just your conversation and attention. And maybe you'd make a good friend. By just being you, by just being there, by just showing you're interested, you've made a friend for life. And you've made someone's day—someone who maybe feels like they don't have much purpose anymore.
It's a win-win. Because you'll walk away feeling like you have a purpose too, one that isn't an obligatory get-through-the-day, pay-the-bills one. A really important one, even if it's just a genuine five minutes of your time.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
meetups
Lots happening today. Started the day out with gym time with Big Sister and Big Sister's friend--a half-hour Zumba Express class and then an hour-long Flow class. Feeling good. Cleaning our place. Party-food prep.
Reunion with some of my favorite people in the world tonight. Must run.
Reunion with some of my favorite people in the world tonight. Must run.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thankful For
...As much sun as you can ask for in a Minnesota November
...Future trips
...Molly snuggling on my lap
...Being in love
...A lovely day with my family, eating good food and lounging around
...Streaming Netflix
...Email when my best friend is halfway 'round the world
...Having my first cheesecake turn out OK
...Nike Fit Yoga pants
...Paying off debt
...Staying optimistic
...Loving the YMCA
...Christmas cactus blooms
...French Roast coffee from Trader Joe's
...A low-maintenance car (knock on wood)
...A really, truly good life.
.....and all those blogger buddies out there.
Happy Thanksgiving. I'm off to enjoy more family time.
...Future trips
...Molly snuggling on my lap
...Being in love
...A lovely day with my family, eating good food and lounging around
...Streaming Netflix
...Email when my best friend is halfway 'round the world
...Having my first cheesecake turn out OK
...Nike Fit Yoga pants
...Paying off debt
...Staying optimistic
...Loving the YMCA
...Christmas cactus blooms
...French Roast coffee from Trader Joe's
...A low-maintenance car (knock on wood)
...A really, truly good life.
.....and all those blogger buddies out there.
Happy Thanksgiving. I'm off to enjoy more family time.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Little Gratefuls
1. I got to leave work early today.
2. My boss picked up the lunch tab.
3. No technological mishaps.
4. Easy trip to Target, and I only spent $50! Some kind of miracle.
5. It's getting crappy outside--cold and rainy, but my house is nice and toasty.
6. I'm baking my first cheesecake. No major mishaps. Yet.
7. My Yeah Yeah Yeahs + many other bands channel on Pandora radio.
8. The Netflix William got for his birthday--we both benefit! We've been streaming movies like mad.
9. My sweet Molly looking at the KitchenAid Mixer, cocked head indicating a total befuddlement with the noise.
10. Tomorrow I'll be with the people I love most in the world. Lots of good food, good conversation, and love.
2. My boss picked up the lunch tab.
3. No technological mishaps.
4. Easy trip to Target, and I only spent $50! Some kind of miracle.
5. It's getting crappy outside--cold and rainy, but my house is nice and toasty.
6. I'm baking my first cheesecake. No major mishaps. Yet.
7. My Yeah Yeah Yeahs + many other bands channel on Pandora radio.
8. The Netflix William got for his birthday--we both benefit! We've been streaming movies like mad.
9. My sweet Molly looking at the KitchenAid Mixer, cocked head indicating a total befuddlement with the noise.
10. Tomorrow I'll be with the people I love most in the world. Lots of good food, good conversation, and love.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Yuck
Little flare-up of the tummy problems today. Had to leave work early for the first time in a long time.
I'm frustrated and disappointed, although overall I've been feeling great. Meds, exercise, giving up pop. What else??
I want a transplant.
I've gotta lay down; no ability to think up good stuff tonight. Sorry.
P.S.: This is totally crazy coming out of my mouth, but yet, here it is: I'm sad I don't feel well enough to go to the gym tonight. Yep. I said it.
I'm frustrated and disappointed, although overall I've been feeling great. Meds, exercise, giving up pop. What else??
I want a transplant.
I've gotta lay down; no ability to think up good stuff tonight. Sorry.
P.S.: This is totally crazy coming out of my mouth, but yet, here it is: I'm sad I don't feel well enough to go to the gym tonight. Yep. I said it.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Growing Pains
Seriously, I do not recall a time when I've known such muscle pain.
My thighs are screaming. If I sit, which makes the pain go away, when I stand up, my muscles lock up. A few times they've just sort of buckled under me. And some cruel twist of fate is making me drop everything I pick up, and bending over is ... horrible.
Yet, I went back to the gym this morning to stretch out in a yoga/pilates class. I can't imagine how much stiffer I'd be if I hadn't. Maybe negligible, but it seems like it helped a bit to warm me up.
Then, an afternoon with my family to celebrate Wm's birthday. Lasagne, pear/gorgonzola salad, squash soup with bacon and roasted squash seeds, and flourless chocolate cake with Haagen-Daz ice cream. Mmmmm.
My body is simultaneously ravenously hungry—we're talking hunger PANGS here, people—and exhausted.
After a really productive, busy weekend, I'm finally going to eat some Triscuits (black pepper ones) and sharp cheddar pub cheese, and read Vanity Fair and watch TV. Ahhhh.
My thighs are screaming. If I sit, which makes the pain go away, when I stand up, my muscles lock up. A few times they've just sort of buckled under me. And some cruel twist of fate is making me drop everything I pick up, and bending over is ... horrible.
Yet, I went back to the gym this morning to stretch out in a yoga/pilates class. I can't imagine how much stiffer I'd be if I hadn't. Maybe negligible, but it seems like it helped a bit to warm me up.
Then, an afternoon with my family to celebrate Wm's birthday. Lasagne, pear/gorgonzola salad, squash soup with bacon and roasted squash seeds, and flourless chocolate cake with Haagen-Daz ice cream. Mmmmm.
My body is simultaneously ravenously hungry—we're talking hunger PANGS here, people—and exhausted.
After a really productive, busy weekend, I'm finally going to eat some Triscuits (black pepper ones) and sharp cheddar pub cheese, and read Vanity Fair and watch TV. Ahhhh.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Weighty Issues
Today, I took my first weightlifting class. Yep.
I think tomorrow is going to hurt really, really, really, really badly. And I have a yoga/pilates class in the morning. Greeeeat.
But seriously though, despite the pain, I'm feeling good. As in, Really Good. I haven't had a stomachache in DAYS. DAYS! And I think that maybe I'm feeling my energy level picking up a little, which Jesus God Hallelujah! Because I don't have a lot of energy typically.
I also have found myself feeling absolutely STARVING the last couple days. That has got to mean that I'm burning up the calories, but nothing has changed outwardly. I feel like I'm off to a really good start.
Otherwise, today has been a typical Saturday. Dog to the groomer, errands, cleaning, laundry. But it feels good to be productive and done.
On tap tonight: takeout and friend time at home.
Happy day.
I think tomorrow is going to hurt really, really, really, really badly. And I have a yoga/pilates class in the morning. Greeeeat.
But seriously though, despite the pain, I'm feeling good. As in, Really Good. I haven't had a stomachache in DAYS. DAYS! And I think that maybe I'm feeling my energy level picking up a little, which Jesus God Hallelujah! Because I don't have a lot of energy typically.
I also have found myself feeling absolutely STARVING the last couple days. That has got to mean that I'm burning up the calories, but nothing has changed outwardly. I feel like I'm off to a really good start.
Otherwise, today has been a typical Saturday. Dog to the groomer, errands, cleaning, laundry. But it feels good to be productive and done.
On tap tonight: takeout and friend time at home.
Happy day.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Happy Birthday, Baby
Today is my husband's twenty-ninth birthday.
You're a classic, honey.
I love you always and forever.
You're a classic, honey.
I love you always and forever.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Beautiful, In Every Single Way
If you haven't read my friend Doahleigh's post on feeling beautiful, please exit this post and go read it right now. It's not long, and it's very powerful. I can wait . . .
Back? OK, good.
First of all, I want to give her a standing ovation for her bravery and awesome writing. This blog spoke to my heart, and I am sure the hearts of women across the country.
Secondly, I'm going to publicly say that I think she's a beautiful person, both inside and out. And I'm so happy to see that even though the memories of her story still put a pang in her heart, but that she realizes, at the end of it, someone calling you hot or not doesn't make it so.
While I don't have an exact moment like hers, I spent my junior high years and most of my high school years feeling less-than. Less than pretty. Too skinny. I had crooked teeth until my parents sprang for braces even though the price was so steep (Mom, Dad: THANK YOU. It was easily one of the best boosts to my self-confidence).
I grew up in a family who told me I could be whoever I wanted, and that was good enough. I can remember thinking, as a very young girl—elementary school—that I had long, pretty blonde hair, and my plan was to grow it as long as Crystal Gayle's. I had big, round blue eyes and running around outside all summer long made me nice and tan. I remember thinking that I was kind of pretty. And I knew I was pretty smart.
Then, junior high. A lot of girls were developing their cute little figures, and meanwhile the scale stayed on the underside of 80 lbs for me, even as my legs and arms grew. I was too skinny. Nothing fit me right. Everything that fit me around was about six inches too short. (To this day, I can't wear those cute Audrey Hepburn-inspired ankle-length pants.) Anything that was long enough meant I needed hips and a butt. And a belt that my dad had to notch about 8 inches in from the last pre-punched hole. I called it "garbage bag" waist. Incidentally, this is ALL OVER the runways the last couple seasons (and my beloved J. Crew catalogue). I will never wear it. Ever.
My teeth were badly crooked, and to top things off, I had no athletic ability. Boys didn't even know I existed. I was a band nerd. One day I went to school, and one of my very good friends from elementary school (no one I've mentioned on this here blog 'til just now) just up and stopped talking to me. I remember walking over to her locker, saying hello, and her shutting her locker door and walking to class with me in her wake, clearly ignoring me. I had no idea why.
I went home and soaked my pillow with tears.
That's probably around the time that I felt that I wasn't very cute anymore.
I remember my brother telling me one night that it didn't matter if I was cool or not. He gave me this long talking-to about how being cool is fleeting, and that the whims of junior high students are not to be taken to heart—what did we know about anything?—and that life was probably going to suck for a while, but it was important to remember that true friends would stick with me, and that I'd be a super cool grown up, and all those people would be stuck permanently at the age of 13. I was like OK, then you go to school for me for the next two years.
I was lucky, because one of my best friends, C, was my best friend then, too. And we stuck through those awful years together. We used to joke that we were really too cool for the other one but since we felt bad for each other, we'd just stick together. We were each other's best audiences (still are), and distracted each other from feeling too badly about random Mean Girl crap. We danced in her basement a lot. To this day, it's one of the most therapeutic things I do when I'm feeling low.
But here's the thing: my stupid brother was right. He was right about it all.
Most of the girls who had those cute figures in 7th and 8th grade? Well, let's just say a lot of their figures aren't so cute anymore. And I don't judge people that I meet based on their weight, let's just say that this is sweet justice for terrible people (who continued to act like little dictators as long as I've known them).
Most of them still have the personalities of two-by-fours.
(And, maybe worst of all, they've been made victims, too. Because many of them now only judge their self-worth by their looks.)
Here's the thing about me. OK, I still hate most photos of myself, but it's because I'm not very photogenic. I don't mind the way I look overall.
Oh, and my body? It might be a few pounds past the point I would like to see on the scale, but I stayed pretty slim, and eventually I gained weight. (I finally broke 100 lbs. in 10th grade. And trust me, being too skinny is just as bad as being too heavy, socially speaking. Or maybe I just missed the heroin chic and Land of Double-0s culture.) I'd like to think my body's pretty cute too. (PS: C turned out absolutely beautiful.)
But overall, what I value most about myself is not my looks. And I can decide how to feel about them. While it's certainly nice to hear a compliment, my self-worth doesn't hinge upon one.
It's the fact that I'm a loyal friend and confidante, a good compliment to my husband, a kind dog-mom, and that I am an intelligent person. (I know a little more about style now, too, and that never hurts.)
I wouldn't go back and do those years for a million dollars, not even if I could go back with the knowledge I have now about how it all turns out.
But I'll tell you what: that experience made me a more compassionate person. And I know that truly awesome women are not completely driven by their looks. They are driven by kindness, intelligence, and good humor. And women who can set aside those jealousies and shallow feelings and truly connect with other women are the women worth connecting with.
It makes me sad that so many people could relate to Doahleigh's story.
But MY GOD. Look at us now.
Back? OK, good.
First of all, I want to give her a standing ovation for her bravery and awesome writing. This blog spoke to my heart, and I am sure the hearts of women across the country.
Secondly, I'm going to publicly say that I think she's a beautiful person, both inside and out. And I'm so happy to see that even though the memories of her story still put a pang in her heart, but that she realizes, at the end of it, someone calling you hot or not doesn't make it so.
While I don't have an exact moment like hers, I spent my junior high years and most of my high school years feeling less-than. Less than pretty. Too skinny. I had crooked teeth until my parents sprang for braces even though the price was so steep (Mom, Dad: THANK YOU. It was easily one of the best boosts to my self-confidence).
I grew up in a family who told me I could be whoever I wanted, and that was good enough. I can remember thinking, as a very young girl—elementary school—that I had long, pretty blonde hair, and my plan was to grow it as long as Crystal Gayle's. I had big, round blue eyes and running around outside all summer long made me nice and tan. I remember thinking that I was kind of pretty. And I knew I was pretty smart.
Then, junior high. A lot of girls were developing their cute little figures, and meanwhile the scale stayed on the underside of 80 lbs for me, even as my legs and arms grew. I was too skinny. Nothing fit me right. Everything that fit me around was about six inches too short. (To this day, I can't wear those cute Audrey Hepburn-inspired ankle-length pants.) Anything that was long enough meant I needed hips and a butt. And a belt that my dad had to notch about 8 inches in from the last pre-punched hole. I called it "garbage bag" waist. Incidentally, this is ALL OVER the runways the last couple seasons (and my beloved J. Crew catalogue). I will never wear it. Ever.
My teeth were badly crooked, and to top things off, I had no athletic ability. Boys didn't even know I existed. I was a band nerd. One day I went to school, and one of my very good friends from elementary school (no one I've mentioned on this here blog 'til just now) just up and stopped talking to me. I remember walking over to her locker, saying hello, and her shutting her locker door and walking to class with me in her wake, clearly ignoring me. I had no idea why.
I went home and soaked my pillow with tears.
That's probably around the time that I felt that I wasn't very cute anymore.
I remember my brother telling me one night that it didn't matter if I was cool or not. He gave me this long talking-to about how being cool is fleeting, and that the whims of junior high students are not to be taken to heart—what did we know about anything?—and that life was probably going to suck for a while, but it was important to remember that true friends would stick with me, and that I'd be a super cool grown up, and all those people would be stuck permanently at the age of 13. I was like OK, then you go to school for me for the next two years.
I was lucky, because one of my best friends, C, was my best friend then, too. And we stuck through those awful years together. We used to joke that we were really too cool for the other one but since we felt bad for each other, we'd just stick together. We were each other's best audiences (still are), and distracted each other from feeling too badly about random Mean Girl crap. We danced in her basement a lot. To this day, it's one of the most therapeutic things I do when I'm feeling low.
But here's the thing: my stupid brother was right. He was right about it all.
Most of the girls who had those cute figures in 7th and 8th grade? Well, let's just say a lot of their figures aren't so cute anymore. And I don't judge people that I meet based on their weight, let's just say that this is sweet justice for terrible people (who continued to act like little dictators as long as I've known them).
Most of them still have the personalities of two-by-fours.
(And, maybe worst of all, they've been made victims, too. Because many of them now only judge their self-worth by their looks.)
Here's the thing about me. OK, I still hate most photos of myself, but it's because I'm not very photogenic. I don't mind the way I look overall.
Oh, and my body? It might be a few pounds past the point I would like to see on the scale, but I stayed pretty slim, and eventually I gained weight. (I finally broke 100 lbs. in 10th grade. And trust me, being too skinny is just as bad as being too heavy, socially speaking. Or maybe I just missed the heroin chic and Land of Double-0s culture.) I'd like to think my body's pretty cute too. (PS: C turned out absolutely beautiful.)
But overall, what I value most about myself is not my looks. And I can decide how to feel about them. While it's certainly nice to hear a compliment, my self-worth doesn't hinge upon one.
It's the fact that I'm a loyal friend and confidante, a good compliment to my husband, a kind dog-mom, and that I am an intelligent person. (I know a little more about style now, too, and that never hurts.)
I wouldn't go back and do those years for a million dollars, not even if I could go back with the knowledge I have now about how it all turns out.
But I'll tell you what: that experience made me a more compassionate person. And I know that truly awesome women are not completely driven by their looks. They are driven by kindness, intelligence, and good humor. And women who can set aside those jealousies and shallow feelings and truly connect with other women are the women worth connecting with.
It makes me sad that so many people could relate to Doahleigh's story.
But MY GOD. Look at us now.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Let's Get Literary
It's the month of Thanksigving, and one thing I'm thankful for is that I learned to read. And that I had parents, teachers, and friends and family who encouraged me to follow my dreams to be a writer and reader. It's something I love to talk about and share with other people, too.
One of my simple pleasures is the smell of books—old, new, whatever. Mmmmm.
I don't detail all my reads like my friend A. does on her blog, Bookish Bent, but I do try to read a book a week (or so). It's hard, but I know it's one of those things that if you don't carve out the time to do it, it's easy to push it onto the back burner. And I believe books and words are important and I'll support the industry until the day I die. (And, hopefully, one day, contribute to it.) Reading simultaneously fuels my passion for writing and reading, and soothes me. I usually read right before bed.
The last book I read was The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins. It's reportage from an embedded reporter (he works for the New York Times and has won a Pulitzer Prize). It's about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and it rips your heart out and stomps all over it. The man has balls of steel, I will say that. He narrowly escapes death a few times; some of his compatriots don't. Tears came to eyes a few times, but more than a crying-sadness, it's the hollowed-out kind of sadness, a depressed, how-can-this-ever-be-fixed sadness. The book is a series of essays of experiences there, not unlike Michael Herr's groundbreaking Dispatches, or Tim O'Brien's incredible fictional account, The Things They Carried. (Many feel that this book was based on his own experiences, and from what I understand, many feel it's accurate about war, even if the accounts themselves did not happen.) Highly recommended for insight into the war on terror, the psyche of some cultures, and what is really happening behind the headlines.
Tonight I'm moving onto something a little lighter. I had the realization recently that I tend to read dark, depressing books, most of them nonfiction. I think I need something a little on the lighter side, but without being stupid or vapid. Tonight, I'm going to start reading The Know It All, by A.J. Jacobs, kindly loaned to me from A.
I'm also on Goodreads. Are you? Are we friends? Want to be?
Choosing my favorite books or authors is a nearly impossible task, but I have a few that stand out. And um, no links here, but let me know if you need more information.
I love Susan Orlean, Joan Didion, Margaret Atwood, Random Family by Adrienne Nicole LeBlanc (in my mind, one of the most important books about race and class ever written), The Translator, Push, The Color Purple, Crime and Punishment, Stolen Lives, Mountains Beyond Mountains (Tracy Kidder), All the President's Men (sigh, the first amendment), The Orchid Thief, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, China Wakes, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Where the Red Fern Grows, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Under the Banner of Heaven, Cash by Johnny Cash, What is the What... I could go on and on and on and on.....
What are your favorite books/authors? Why? I'd love some recommendations and book talk around here.
One of my simple pleasures is the smell of books—old, new, whatever. Mmmmm.
I don't detail all my reads like my friend A. does on her blog, Bookish Bent, but I do try to read a book a week (or so). It's hard, but I know it's one of those things that if you don't carve out the time to do it, it's easy to push it onto the back burner. And I believe books and words are important and I'll support the industry until the day I die. (And, hopefully, one day, contribute to it.) Reading simultaneously fuels my passion for writing and reading, and soothes me. I usually read right before bed.
The last book I read was The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins. It's reportage from an embedded reporter (he works for the New York Times and has won a Pulitzer Prize). It's about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and it rips your heart out and stomps all over it. The man has balls of steel, I will say that. He narrowly escapes death a few times; some of his compatriots don't. Tears came to eyes a few times, but more than a crying-sadness, it's the hollowed-out kind of sadness, a depressed, how-can-this-ever-be-fixed sadness. The book is a series of essays of experiences there, not unlike Michael Herr's groundbreaking Dispatches, or Tim O'Brien's incredible fictional account, The Things They Carried. (Many feel that this book was based on his own experiences, and from what I understand, many feel it's accurate about war, even if the accounts themselves did not happen.) Highly recommended for insight into the war on terror, the psyche of some cultures, and what is really happening behind the headlines.
Tonight I'm moving onto something a little lighter. I had the realization recently that I tend to read dark, depressing books, most of them nonfiction. I think I need something a little on the lighter side, but without being stupid or vapid. Tonight, I'm going to start reading The Know It All, by A.J. Jacobs, kindly loaned to me from A.
I'm also on Goodreads. Are you? Are we friends? Want to be?
Choosing my favorite books or authors is a nearly impossible task, but I have a few that stand out. And um, no links here, but let me know if you need more information.
I love Susan Orlean, Joan Didion, Margaret Atwood, Random Family by Adrienne Nicole LeBlanc (in my mind, one of the most important books about race and class ever written), The Translator, Push, The Color Purple, Crime and Punishment, Stolen Lives, Mountains Beyond Mountains (Tracy Kidder), All the President's Men (sigh, the first amendment), The Orchid Thief, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, China Wakes, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Where the Red Fern Grows, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Under the Banner of Heaven, Cash by Johnny Cash, What is the What... I could go on and on and on and on.....
What are your favorite books/authors? Why? I'd love some recommendations and book talk around here.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Goodies
Good things for today:
1. Cute outfit day.
2. In re: cute outfit day, I splurged and bought a little bit more expensive tights at Target. I figured it'd be a gamble. It paid off! They are super thick and opaque, and kept me warm in a minidress. Well worth the extra couple bucks.
3. New Vanity Fair arrived with Robert Pattinson on the cover. Sigh.
4. Good songs on the radio. Songs I'm currently loving:
6. Zumba class!
7. Reorders from the shops William is in.
1. Cute outfit day.
2. In re: cute outfit day, I splurged and bought a little bit more expensive tights at Target. I figured it'd be a gamble. It paid off! They are super thick and opaque, and kept me warm in a minidress. Well worth the extra couple bucks.
3. New Vanity Fair arrived with Robert Pattinson on the cover. Sigh.
4. Good songs on the radio. Songs I'm currently loving:
- Buster Voodoo, Rodrigo y Gabriela
- Sugarfoot, Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears
- Drain the Blood, Rural Alberta Advantage
- Baby, Devendra Banhart
- Soft Shock, Yeah Yeah Yeahs
- I'll Fight, Wilco
- Horchata, Vampire Weekend
- Lizstomania, Phoenix
- Heavy Cross, The Gossip
6. Zumba class!
7. Reorders from the shops William is in.
Monday, November 16, 2009
90 Days
Nearly little muscle in my body hurts from my flow class yesterday. Some are sort of screamy-hurt. It takes masterful effort not to walk like I've been riding horses all week long.
This gets better, right? Please promise me it does.
I thought I'd share a couple of goals with y'all since I'll probably be blogging about my gymming it up [note: I promise this won't become an all-fitness, all the time blog], and it will help me keep on track.
I want to lose around 10 pounds. HOWEVER, I think that weight is just another way to measure health. I don't live and die by what the scale says. And I'm not going to diet to do it (although: healthy recipes and snack ideas always welcome here). I've already cut out pop, I don't eat fast food, I like veggies and fruits and I don't eat much pasta, etc. I figure my diet is pretty dang balanced right now. If I diet, I will hate my life and not go to the gym either. I will take my measure more from the way my jeans fit, but I know they fit me when I weighed about 10 less pounds.
I want to gain muscle. I want to have a nice, toned, strong body. I like the way Jennifer Aniston's body looks (obviously I will never be that skinny because I don't, and won't, live on whatever bottled water she promotes). Toned and strong, but not wiry or hard. If that means I have to weigh more, so be it.
I want to gain even more flexibility. I'm about as flexible as a two-by-four, but I'd like to continue striving to be more flexible.
I want to feel happier.
I want to feel more energized.
I want to feel capable of performing even moderately difficult athletic tasks.
I want to conquer my stomachaches.
I want to conquer stress and anxiety.
I want to work up to going to the gym five times a week. Yep, you heard it here, friends.
I know I am not really old. But as I age, I want to always feel like "dang, I am in the best shape of my life." I want to live well, be well, and be active in making that happen.
I want to make it past the three-month mark my trainer warned me about. People often quit at month three. I have to make it past that.
Here we go.
This gets better, right? Please promise me it does.
I thought I'd share a couple of goals with y'all since I'll probably be blogging about my gymming it up [note: I promise this won't become an all-fitness, all the time blog], and it will help me keep on track.
I want to lose around 10 pounds. HOWEVER, I think that weight is just another way to measure health. I don't live and die by what the scale says. And I'm not going to diet to do it (although: healthy recipes and snack ideas always welcome here). I've already cut out pop, I don't eat fast food, I like veggies and fruits and I don't eat much pasta, etc. I figure my diet is pretty dang balanced right now. If I diet, I will hate my life and not go to the gym either. I will take my measure more from the way my jeans fit, but I know they fit me when I weighed about 10 less pounds.
I want to gain muscle. I want to have a nice, toned, strong body. I like the way Jennifer Aniston's body looks (obviously I will never be that skinny because I don't, and won't, live on whatever bottled water she promotes). Toned and strong, but not wiry or hard. If that means I have to weigh more, so be it.
I want to gain even more flexibility. I'm about as flexible as a two-by-four, but I'd like to continue striving to be more flexible.
I want to feel happier.
I want to feel more energized.
I want to feel capable of performing even moderately difficult athletic tasks.
I want to conquer my stomachaches.
I want to conquer stress and anxiety.
I want to work up to going to the gym five times a week. Yep, you heard it here, friends.
I know I am not really old. But as I age, I want to always feel like "dang, I am in the best shape of my life." I want to live well, be well, and be active in making that happen.
I want to make it past the three-month mark my trainer warned me about. People often quit at month three. I have to make it past that.
Here we go.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Rock My Body
Dudes. I joined a gym, 'member? So I went to my first class this morning, which is a combo of tai chi, power yoga, and pilates. I thought a class with the name "Flow" in the title might really be kind of nice and soothing. Nooooot really. It felt great, though, and I really liked the class, as did Sister Soup. Plus it was set to music, and I loved that. I'm feeling more confident about hitting up classes now, too.
But um, I kind of want to die. I had to bow out of a couple of moves early, because my thighs were a-burnin'. Bad. I am pretty sure stairs are going to feel hellacious tomorrow. I'm a little scared. And I felt super tired the rest of the day (the class ran from 10-11). I guess I'm just not at the point where I feel energized by exercising. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?
Besides that, I went to see This Is It (FINALLY) with my mom this afternoon.
It. Was. AWESOME.
It only made me love MJ more. Seriously. There are some darling moments. And let me tell you, he was too skinny, but any reports that he was frail or sickly--nuh uh. That man was moving and grooving and clearly loving plotting his return to the limelight.
You have to wonder, if he hadn't died. Would it have been spectacular enough to win over all the haters? Would it have re-cemented him as a star, or would it have seemed desperate to most? My money is that it would have been a total hit. He was really planning something amazing, and it's all this imploded potential. All this footage, when Michael is singing like an angel and doing his particular brand of hover-dancing...it's tragic to think it never became something.
They pulled some of the best dancers and singers from around the world for this show, and as they backed him up onstage during rehearsal, I couldn't help but think they couldn't even touch his talent.
Sooo, that's pretty much all the news fit to print today.
But um, I kind of want to die. I had to bow out of a couple of moves early, because my thighs were a-burnin'. Bad. I am pretty sure stairs are going to feel hellacious tomorrow. I'm a little scared. And I felt super tired the rest of the day (the class ran from 10-11). I guess I'm just not at the point where I feel energized by exercising. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?
Besides that, I went to see This Is It (FINALLY) with my mom this afternoon.
It. Was. AWESOME.
It only made me love MJ more. Seriously. There are some darling moments. And let me tell you, he was too skinny, but any reports that he was frail or sickly--nuh uh. That man was moving and grooving and clearly loving plotting his return to the limelight.
You have to wonder, if he hadn't died. Would it have been spectacular enough to win over all the haters? Would it have re-cemented him as a star, or would it have seemed desperate to most? My money is that it would have been a total hit. He was really planning something amazing, and it's all this imploded potential. All this footage, when Michael is singing like an angel and doing his particular brand of hover-dancing...it's tragic to think it never became something.
They pulled some of the best dancers and singers from around the world for this show, and as they backed him up onstage during rehearsal, I couldn't help but think they couldn't even touch his talent.
Sooo, that's pretty much all the news fit to print today.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I will love you forever.
It's not often that you get to meet your childhood-friend's children. Think about it. A lot of times, people don't stay friends that long. From my own pink-corduroy, pigtailed days with Pamcakes to now, when I meet her at her house and meet her beautiful, thriving twins after a long, complications-frought pregnancy and delivery. Post ICU, post-hospital, and now, we are officially post-childhood. She has two absolutely perfect babies of her own.
I'm still in shock even though I've had more than 9 months of knowing this would happen, and was there at the hospital to witness it myself.
One of my oldest, bestest friends in the world has two baby girls. And although we are not related through blood, I love them with the intensity of an auntie. Their mom and I are like chosen sisters, rather than blood relatives. I love them thoroughly and completely, even if I just met them for the first time today, nearly three weeks after their birth. (Hey, that's not bad considering the circumstances.) Trust me, it killed me to wait those nearly 21 days to hold them in my arms and to inhale their baby scent and touch their tiny fingers and feet, and kiss their sweet cheeks.
Today I held a baby that shouldn't have even been born yet, not for at least two more weeks, this little negative-aged being. And they are both so, so, so tiny, their heads fitting neatly into the palm of my hand, their body fitting the space between my wrist and my elbow. They are petite, but they are fighters. Like their mom.
One of my nearest and dearest friends is a mom. We are no longer playing hide-and-seek, swimming at the public pool, throwing parties at our college apartment, or meeting for lunch on break from our first real jobs. She is a mother.
I will love you babies, forever and ever. You can always call me Auntie Katie. And I will always be there for you. Always. For every reason. You can call me late at night, ask me the embarrassing questions, and I will always bring you frivolous gifts, and I will always tell you the truth. I will let you chew the flavor of bubble gum that your mom hates the smell of, I will take you shopping and to the movies, and buy you treats you're not supposed to have, and I'll always, always, always love you. Always.
I'm still in shock even though I've had more than 9 months of knowing this would happen, and was there at the hospital to witness it myself.
One of my oldest, bestest friends in the world has two baby girls. And although we are not related through blood, I love them with the intensity of an auntie. Their mom and I are like chosen sisters, rather than blood relatives. I love them thoroughly and completely, even if I just met them for the first time today, nearly three weeks after their birth. (Hey, that's not bad considering the circumstances.) Trust me, it killed me to wait those nearly 21 days to hold them in my arms and to inhale their baby scent and touch their tiny fingers and feet, and kiss their sweet cheeks.
Today I held a baby that shouldn't have even been born yet, not for at least two more weeks, this little negative-aged being. And they are both so, so, so tiny, their heads fitting neatly into the palm of my hand, their body fitting the space between my wrist and my elbow. They are petite, but they are fighters. Like their mom.
One of my nearest and dearest friends is a mom. We are no longer playing hide-and-seek, swimming at the public pool, throwing parties at our college apartment, or meeting for lunch on break from our first real jobs. She is a mother.
I will love you babies, forever and ever. You can always call me Auntie Katie. And I will always be there for you. Always. For every reason. You can call me late at night, ask me the embarrassing questions, and I will always bring you frivolous gifts, and I will always tell you the truth. I will let you chew the flavor of bubble gum that your mom hates the smell of, I will take you shopping and to the movies, and buy you treats you're not supposed to have, and I'll always, always, always love you. Always.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Spitty Rain
Oh, November. There YOU are! It was dark and raining that kind of misty/spitty rain all day. My lunchtime walk not quite as pleasant.
But tonight, I had tasty Chipotle and wine with my husband and then we're watching movies, all snuggled up against the November nastiness.
Tomorrow, I finally get to see the babies that were born nearly three weeks ago--the closest thing I'll have to nieces outside my blood relative nieces. My heart is already overflowing with joy.
But now, my couch, yoga pants, gorgeous husband, and snuggle dog are awaiting me.
But tonight, I had tasty Chipotle and wine with my husband and then we're watching movies, all snuggled up against the November nastiness.
Tomorrow, I finally get to see the babies that were born nearly three weeks ago--the closest thing I'll have to nieces outside my blood relative nieces. My heart is already overflowing with joy.
But now, my couch, yoga pants, gorgeous husband, and snuggle dog are awaiting me.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Feeling St. Paul
Blackberry mojito, guacamole, jicama salad.
Long talk about a love of writing.
Giggles.
A hope that seems reachable.
A brisk walk home amid trees dressed with white twinkle lights, only a slight chill in the air, unseasonably warm in November.
Everything is still and quiet, even downtown, like I have it all to myself. Like it's all mine.
Long talk about a love of writing.
Giggles.
A hope that seems reachable.
A brisk walk home amid trees dressed with white twinkle lights, only a slight chill in the air, unseasonably warm in November.
Everything is still and quiet, even downtown, like I have it all to myself. Like it's all mine.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Veteran Memories/New York New York
I've written about Veterans' Day before, and I feel like I've said enough about that. At least for now.
I have another memory associated with Veterans' Day, too.
Four years ago, my then-boyfriend of sixish months asked me to go to New York City with him to visit some of his friends from grad school. (They have long since become like family to me.)
We planned the trip on Veterans' Day weekend. It wasn't the smartest idea we've ever had. Half the places we wanted to tour were closed on government holiday. But we had a wonderful time anyway.
We went to see the public library, but instead found a gigantic Veterans' Day parade. I don't have any digital photos of how many soldiers marched for peace that day. The U.S. had already been in the Middle East and Afghanistan for four-ish years. Many held signs that said things like "Veterans for Peace" and things about jailing President Bush.
We had so much fun, we almost missed our flight. Have I ever told you THAT story, dear readers?
My hair is flying in this photo, not because it was windy but because we were RUNNING to get on the subway to get back to our friend Jimmy's apartment, to get to the subway again to get to the airport. And we were supposed to be AT the airport at this point.
This is one of my all-time favorite photos, taken by our friend Lee.
Our relationship was still so new at that point. And I was head-over-heels, hopelessly, madly in love. Already. And I still am. And always will be.
In New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York
These streets will make you feel brand new
Big lights will inspire you, let's hear it for New York
New York, New York
—"Empire State of Mind," Jay-Z feat. Alicia Keys
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Simple Goodness
Today has been like the third or fourth day that it's been in the 60-degree range, and man, I'm taking it in. It won't last much longer--it's unseasonable now, anyway. It might be dark at 5 p.m., but it's warm.
And that makes me really happy.
Also, I finally get to meet my quasi-nieces this week. And I could not be more thrilled.
Also, I added a little Greatest Hits Collection of some past posts. Maybe more to come? People, going through my old posts, I need to step up the game. Word.
And that makes me really happy.
Also, I finally get to meet my quasi-nieces this week. And I could not be more thrilled.
Also, I added a little Greatest Hits Collection of some past posts. Maybe more to come? People, going through my old posts, I need to step up the game. Word.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Stop the Bench Presses
People.
This is not a test.
I joined the gym yesterday.
No, for real.
No, it's not April Fool's Day.
Like, oh my God!
It's time. Here's why:
Community ed wasn't really delivering anymore on what I wanted. I loved most of the classes I took and I'd still consider going back to my belly dancing class but otherwise, I needed something more. And the last class I took was a joke, and a waste of a month's worth of gym money for five measly classes.
I know, right? Me, something more? Here are some more reasons:
This is not a test.
I joined the gym yesterday.
No, for real.
No, it's not April Fool's Day.
Like, oh my God!
It's time. Here's why:
Community ed wasn't really delivering anymore on what I wanted. I loved most of the classes I took and I'd still consider going back to my belly dancing class but otherwise, I needed something more. And the last class I took was a joke, and a waste of a month's worth of gym money for five measly classes.
I know, right? Me, something more? Here are some more reasons:
- I get a little discount with my health insurance. And I have to go or I don't get the discount.
- I figure the barrier is a little higher when it comes to fitness at a gym vs. comm ed. This ain't no Richard Simmons' oldies class.
- I have lost a little weight, but I need to lose a little more before I'm satisfied.
- My doctor has recommended that with my two irritating illnesses, IBS and thyroid disease, to exercise five times a week. Say WHA? I'm not there yet. But I hear him.
- The Y was offering no joiners fee, and a free consult with a trainer.
- My sister belongs to the Y and we both are taking an interest in fitness, so we will push each other to go to class.
- Extra endorphins can't hurt. Especially as we enter the season called Depression around here.
- I've been inspired by some bloggers lately. And my husband.
- And the biggest one: I can eat more cheese if I work out. instead of a carrot dangling in front of me, imagine a chunk of Old Amsterdam Gouda and a Mounds bar.
- Expect updates.
- I would love some encouragement.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
An update on my attempted productivity and cuteness
Yesterday got more annoying, if that's possible. After not getting my car 'til 1, I realized I still had to go to Target because I had to hit up the pharmacy. So, I get my car and scoot on over there to try and get some productivity out of my day.
I grab few groceries and head over to the pharmacy where....they're CLOSED for a half hour in the middle of the day. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue for me, because I love Target for one, and for two I usually have more shopping to do, but I had done that first. I wanted to throw my Yoplait yogurt cups at the closed window. I don't get it...why can't the pharmacists take rotating breaks for lunch so the pharmacy doens't have to grind to a halt during the day? There were a couple frail, older peeps that didn't look like they could stand and wait for a half hour for the pharmacy to open! Not nice.
Anyway, it worked out OK because once they did open, I got my prescription and then they printed out a $5 off coupon for my next purchase, which were the groceries! Yay!
Then I hit up a cancer benefit, and a birthday party, and went home.
Now I have a story to write today and lots of stuff to get done. So I leave you with this high dose of cuteness:
I grab few groceries and head over to the pharmacy where....they're CLOSED for a half hour in the middle of the day. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue for me, because I love Target for one, and for two I usually have more shopping to do, but I had done that first. I wanted to throw my Yoplait yogurt cups at the closed window. I don't get it...why can't the pharmacists take rotating breaks for lunch so the pharmacy doens't have to grind to a halt during the day? There were a couple frail, older peeps that didn't look like they could stand and wait for a half hour for the pharmacy to open! Not nice.
Anyway, it worked out OK because once they did open, I got my prescription and then they printed out a $5 off coupon for my next purchase, which were the groceries! Yay!
Then I hit up a cancer benefit, and a birthday party, and went home.
Now I have a story to write today and lots of stuff to get done. So I leave you with this high dose of cuteness:
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Don't call me honey
I'm sick of getting sexist treatment when I get my car serviced.
Seriously. I've had it.
My car is NEVER done when they promise it, they try to upsell me on absolutely EVERYTHING that they do not try to upsell my husband on, and they call me demeaning names. I know I am not brilliant at car maintenance, but I DO know how long it takes to get an oil change. However, I have had just about every incident related to my car take twice as long (or more) with a bunch of runaround.
At this point I'm willing to drive anywhere if I get fair service. A few months ago, I bought a set of four tires from a car place near my parents' house. Overall, that went really well. And not only did I get tires, but the deal at the time was that I got free oil changes for the life of the tires. I was excited about this. I figured since that service went well I'd be happy with that place.
Then, as I was planning to head out of town this summer for a weekend, I called the shop on a Friday morning. I asked the person who answered the phone if it'd be possible for me to drop by the store and have my oil changed quickly around 5:30 that evening. The guy said, "Oh yeah, no problem at all." I mentioned that I had the free oil change and asked if I should set up an appointment to guarantee my car gets looked at immediately, as I had a night of driving ahead of me and didn't want to waste daylight.
He tells me it's no problem at all and no appointment needed. I didn't feel good about it, but I didn't push it and said thanks and hung up.
5:30 rolls around and I'm in a huge hurry, and I stop by the store. The guy I talk to looks confused and says they can probably squeeze me in but it might take up to two hours. I look around. I am alone. I have no other car. I explain AGAIN that I was told it'd be no problem and take about 30-45 minutes. The guy says hes sorry, bu he didn't know who told me that because they tell everyone to plan on TWO HOURS for an oil change.
Now I'm pissed, I need to drive for about five hours and I just want to get on the road. I'm like, DUDE, I CALLED for this VERY REASON. He can tell I'm getting mad, and I'm mad because I don't want to take it out on this dude, who did not take my phone call in the first place. Then this dude pops his head in from the shop and says, super condescendingly, "Oh, HONEY, you talked to me this morning. I would have never told you that we could do that and I would have said you should set up an appointment." And shakes his head all slow back and forth, like I'm hard of UNDERSTANDING.
At the word honey, my blood boils over, and now I'm super pissed. I'm like, "Maybe I talked to someone else," trying to figure out why he'd blatantly LIE about talking to me and hoping I did, in fact, talk to someone else. And they both say, in unison, "No, he's the only guy here in the morning ever."
I was like "Then YOU TOLD ME this would be no problem and an appointment wasn't needed and in 45 minutes I'd be out on the road." I wait for them to back off, say they're sorry, and squeeze me in. I'm not asking for the world, here, and they promised it to me that morning. I can see two people out of the corner of my eye who are starting to look uncomfortable.
He's like "Honey, I'm sorry. You must have misunderstood me."
STOP CALLING ME HONEY!!!!!!!!!!! I was ready to punch him in the face.
I was like "No, I didn't misunderstand you. I know what you said, and I asked twice because I had a feeling you didn't know what you were talking about!" I grabbed my keys out of the guy's hand and stomped out. I was so furious at that point. I haven't been back.
So then I needed another oil change, badly. I stop by another shop, which happens to be right across the street from my house. I was like, whatever, it's convenient, even if it costs me to have it done. And they were once two hours late getting my car to me when I had to get to WORK but I have to get it done and this is the easiest way to do it.
I stop in, the guy is super friendly, no problem, he can have it done in the morning. He asks me what time I need my car by. I tell him NO LATER than 11 a.m. It is Saturday today, after all, and I have a ton of stuff to get done this weekend, including getting to the post office and the bank by NOON.
You can guess what happens, right?
11:15 rolls around and I still haven't heard anything. I call around 11:30 and ask if my car is done, hoping they just forgot to call me to pick it up. Nope. I'm on hold for FAR too long, and the guy comes back and says, "Oh I got it in for you, I can call you when it's done, OK?" Which means they hadn't even STARTED on the oil change despite the fact that they've been open since SEVEN this morning. So now it's 12:15 and it's STILL not done. Dudes. It takes like a half hour. Bank is closed. Post office is closed. Day's plans are totally screwed up and now I'm so mad I could spit.
I'm so flipping mad. This happens to me EVERY TIME. EVERY. TIME. I wish I didn't have to have a car. I'm so done dealing with these jerks who think my time is expendable and think it's OK to lie to me and call me honey. I realize car things suck for everyone. But seriously. These are just two of the incidents I've had. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO CUSTOMER SERVICE? And treating women like equals? Seriously. That dude is probably going to get an earful when I go pick my car.
Seriously. I've had it.
My car is NEVER done when they promise it, they try to upsell me on absolutely EVERYTHING that they do not try to upsell my husband on, and they call me demeaning names. I know I am not brilliant at car maintenance, but I DO know how long it takes to get an oil change. However, I have had just about every incident related to my car take twice as long (or more) with a bunch of runaround.
At this point I'm willing to drive anywhere if I get fair service. A few months ago, I bought a set of four tires from a car place near my parents' house. Overall, that went really well. And not only did I get tires, but the deal at the time was that I got free oil changes for the life of the tires. I was excited about this. I figured since that service went well I'd be happy with that place.
Then, as I was planning to head out of town this summer for a weekend, I called the shop on a Friday morning. I asked the person who answered the phone if it'd be possible for me to drop by the store and have my oil changed quickly around 5:30 that evening. The guy said, "Oh yeah, no problem at all." I mentioned that I had the free oil change and asked if I should set up an appointment to guarantee my car gets looked at immediately, as I had a night of driving ahead of me and didn't want to waste daylight.
He tells me it's no problem at all and no appointment needed. I didn't feel good about it, but I didn't push it and said thanks and hung up.
5:30 rolls around and I'm in a huge hurry, and I stop by the store. The guy I talk to looks confused and says they can probably squeeze me in but it might take up to two hours. I look around. I am alone. I have no other car. I explain AGAIN that I was told it'd be no problem and take about 30-45 minutes. The guy says hes sorry, bu he didn't know who told me that because they tell everyone to plan on TWO HOURS for an oil change.
Now I'm pissed, I need to drive for about five hours and I just want to get on the road. I'm like, DUDE, I CALLED for this VERY REASON. He can tell I'm getting mad, and I'm mad because I don't want to take it out on this dude, who did not take my phone call in the first place. Then this dude pops his head in from the shop and says, super condescendingly, "Oh, HONEY, you talked to me this morning. I would have never told you that we could do that and I would have said you should set up an appointment." And shakes his head all slow back and forth, like I'm hard of UNDERSTANDING.
At the word honey, my blood boils over, and now I'm super pissed. I'm like, "Maybe I talked to someone else," trying to figure out why he'd blatantly LIE about talking to me and hoping I did, in fact, talk to someone else. And they both say, in unison, "No, he's the only guy here in the morning ever."
I was like "Then YOU TOLD ME this would be no problem and an appointment wasn't needed and in 45 minutes I'd be out on the road." I wait for them to back off, say they're sorry, and squeeze me in. I'm not asking for the world, here, and they promised it to me that morning. I can see two people out of the corner of my eye who are starting to look uncomfortable.
He's like "Honey, I'm sorry. You must have misunderstood me."
STOP CALLING ME HONEY!!!!!!!!!!! I was ready to punch him in the face.
I was like "No, I didn't misunderstand you. I know what you said, and I asked twice because I had a feeling you didn't know what you were talking about!" I grabbed my keys out of the guy's hand and stomped out. I was so furious at that point. I haven't been back.
So then I needed another oil change, badly. I stop by another shop, which happens to be right across the street from my house. I was like, whatever, it's convenient, even if it costs me to have it done. And they were once two hours late getting my car to me when I had to get to WORK but I have to get it done and this is the easiest way to do it.
I stop in, the guy is super friendly, no problem, he can have it done in the morning. He asks me what time I need my car by. I tell him NO LATER than 11 a.m. It is Saturday today, after all, and I have a ton of stuff to get done this weekend, including getting to the post office and the bank by NOON.
You can guess what happens, right?
11:15 rolls around and I still haven't heard anything. I call around 11:30 and ask if my car is done, hoping they just forgot to call me to pick it up. Nope. I'm on hold for FAR too long, and the guy comes back and says, "Oh I got it in for you, I can call you when it's done, OK?" Which means they hadn't even STARTED on the oil change despite the fact that they've been open since SEVEN this morning. So now it's 12:15 and it's STILL not done. Dudes. It takes like a half hour. Bank is closed. Post office is closed. Day's plans are totally screwed up and now I'm so mad I could spit.
I'm so flipping mad. This happens to me EVERY TIME. EVERY. TIME. I wish I didn't have to have a car. I'm so done dealing with these jerks who think my time is expendable and think it's OK to lie to me and call me honey. I realize car things suck for everyone. But seriously. These are just two of the incidents I've had. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO CUSTOMER SERVICE? And treating women like equals? Seriously. That dude is probably going to get an earful when I go pick my car.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Friday night lights
Here's what I love about Friday nights:
Coming home from work, usually off a short happy hour.
Eating takeout with my husband and good conversation.
Watching a movie or catching up on TV and snuggling with the Miggle.
Sleeeeeeeeep.
Coming home from work, usually off a short happy hour.
Eating takeout with my husband and good conversation.
Watching a movie or catching up on TV and snuggling with the Miggle.
Sleeeeeeeeep.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Done being an adult
Some days, I really want to give back my title of Adult and take back the title of Child.
Today is especially one of those kinds of days.
It started out with opening a piece of mail that was a magazine subscription offer. i was being offered the SENIOR DISCOUNT.
SENIOR DISCOUNT.
.
.
.
SENIOR DISCOUNT!
I am not that much of an adult.
Then, more adult-world-type problems ensued. And want to take care of those problems by writing a note in crayon that I am running away and bringing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat behind the big cottonwood tree in my parents' former backyard.
Now, how can I go about trading in that title?
Today is especially one of those kinds of days.
It started out with opening a piece of mail that was a magazine subscription offer. i was being offered the SENIOR DISCOUNT.
SENIOR DISCOUNT.
.
.
.
SENIOR DISCOUNT!
I am not that much of an adult.
Then, more adult-world-type problems ensued. And want to take care of those problems by writing a note in crayon that I am running away and bringing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat behind the big cottonwood tree in my parents' former backyard.
Now, how can I go about trading in that title?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Q&A
What is your current obsession?
Funny you should ask. I just wrote about this on Monday. See: Monday’s Post, Aptly Titled: Current Obsessions.
What is your weirdest obsession?
Gosh. I don't know. I obsess about a lot of things but it usually passes.
What are you wearing today?
I wore a magenta cashmere hoodie, a cream-colored, ruffly tank top, and skinny gray corduroys. I’ve replaced the cords with yoga pants since arriving home.
What’s for dinner?
My darling husband made pork loin and a yummy pasta salad with tomatoes and spinach. I wish I hadn’t had a stomachache. That would have made it immeasurably more enjoyable, but I still loved it.
What would you eat for your last meal?
Expensive cheese. Pineapple. Homegrown tomatoes.
What’s the last thing you bought?
I bought an apple-and-cheese sandwich and three-pepper chips for lunch.
What are you listening to right now?
William is watching basketball.
What do you think of the person who tagged you?
No one tagged me, but I picked this up from Red Red Whine, who is a new addition to my blogworld.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
I don’t really want to leave my family, but you can’t pass up a fully furnished and paid for house on the coast of South Maui.
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Um. That is far too overwhelming. Maybe somewhere in Hawaii to meditate on how to answer this question?
Which language do you want to learn?
A few. French, Arabic, Mandarin.
What is your favorite colour?
Pink.
What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
I have a bright yellow wool pencil skirt that I’m fond of. My (see above) magenta cashmere hoodie. Citizens of Humanity jeans.
What is your dream job?
Writer.
What’s your favourite magazine?
Bitch. Bust. Vanity Fair. Body + Soul. Real Simple. Elle Décor. ReadyMade. There are a lot.
If you had £100 now, what would you spend it on?
Travel money. Winter boots. A class.
Describe your personal style?
I love vintage and very feminine things. But I also love very tailored things. Pencil skirts, ballet flats, cardigans, belts, animal prints (esp. zebra). Jackie O. I’m a long-haired person, not a short-haired person. I love glitter and eyeliner and loads of mascara.
What are you going to do after this?
I have some writing to catch up on—work.
What are your favourite films?
Almost Famous, Annie, High Fidelity, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Love Actually, Lost in Translation, The Graduate, all the John Hughes canon. But my favorite types of movies are documentaries.
What’s your favourite fruit?
Pineapple. But I also love apples (but not red or golden delicious). And raspberries. And mango. I love fruit. I hate bananas, though. Gross.
What inspires you?
People who follow through. People who manage to make lemonade out of lemons. People who take the disparate pieces and put them together. People who speak out about injustice. People inspire me, in short. That is why I like to write stories about them.
Also: spectacular summer and fall days and great writing.
Do you collect anything?
The question is, what don’t I collect. I have no filter, so I collect junk mail and nearly-empty chapsticks and god knows what else.
I don’t know. I guess I don’t have a dedicated collection.
Your favourite books?
A tough call. This list is a mile long. Some to start you off: Island of the Blue Dolphins, Push, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, What is the What, Cash, The Kite Runner, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Random Family, The Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup, The Orchid Thief, Crime and Punishment, She’s Come Undone, Where the Red Fern Grows, The Color Purple, The Great Gatsby…I could go on and on and on.
What are you currently reading?
The Forever War by Dexter Filkins. Amazing writing and reportage (See again: Current Obsessions post).
By what criteria do you judge a person?
Very interesting question. I don’t know! I have strong feelings about political leanings… I probably judge a lot on that. Sense of humor, apparent kindness, whether they like dogs. . .
What skill would you like to acquire immediately?
Skill or natural talent? Because what I’d love to be able to do is sing. As far as acquired talent, I would like to be good at guitar and piano.
What would you tell yourself 10 years ago? 10 years from now?
10 years ago, I was 18 and starting my freshman year of college. I would tell myself to screw it and take out more loans and study abroad, I would tell myself to get more involved, I would tell myself not to be so damned worried about everything.
10 years from now: I would remind myself that though the 20s were indeed a time of great change and frustration, that there were really awesome parts of my life that I loved and to remember them often. Falling in the for-real love, getting married, living in a loft downtown.
The rules:
1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention, add one more question of your own.
2. Let me know you did this!
Funny you should ask. I just wrote about this on Monday. See: Monday’s Post, Aptly Titled: Current Obsessions.
What is your weirdest obsession?
Gosh. I don't know. I obsess about a lot of things but it usually passes.
What are you wearing today?
I wore a magenta cashmere hoodie, a cream-colored, ruffly tank top, and skinny gray corduroys. I’ve replaced the cords with yoga pants since arriving home.
What’s for dinner?
My darling husband made pork loin and a yummy pasta salad with tomatoes and spinach. I wish I hadn’t had a stomachache. That would have made it immeasurably more enjoyable, but I still loved it.
What would you eat for your last meal?
Expensive cheese. Pineapple. Homegrown tomatoes.
What’s the last thing you bought?
I bought an apple-and-cheese sandwich and three-pepper chips for lunch.
What are you listening to right now?
William is watching basketball.
What do you think of the person who tagged you?
No one tagged me, but I picked this up from Red Red Whine, who is a new addition to my blogworld.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
I don’t really want to leave my family, but you can’t pass up a fully furnished and paid for house on the coast of South Maui.
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Um. That is far too overwhelming. Maybe somewhere in Hawaii to meditate on how to answer this question?
Which language do you want to learn?
A few. French, Arabic, Mandarin.
What is your favorite colour?
Pink.
What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
I have a bright yellow wool pencil skirt that I’m fond of. My (see above) magenta cashmere hoodie. Citizens of Humanity jeans.
What is your dream job?
Writer.
What’s your favourite magazine?
Bitch. Bust. Vanity Fair. Body + Soul. Real Simple. Elle Décor. ReadyMade. There are a lot.
If you had £100 now, what would you spend it on?
Travel money. Winter boots. A class.
Describe your personal style?
I love vintage and very feminine things. But I also love very tailored things. Pencil skirts, ballet flats, cardigans, belts, animal prints (esp. zebra). Jackie O. I’m a long-haired person, not a short-haired person. I love glitter and eyeliner and loads of mascara.
What are you going to do after this?
I have some writing to catch up on—work.
What are your favourite films?
Almost Famous, Annie, High Fidelity, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Love Actually, Lost in Translation, The Graduate, all the John Hughes canon. But my favorite types of movies are documentaries.
What’s your favourite fruit?
Pineapple. But I also love apples (but not red or golden delicious). And raspberries. And mango. I love fruit. I hate bananas, though. Gross.
What inspires you?
People who follow through. People who manage to make lemonade out of lemons. People who take the disparate pieces and put them together. People who speak out about injustice. People inspire me, in short. That is why I like to write stories about them.
Also: spectacular summer and fall days and great writing.
Do you collect anything?
The question is, what don’t I collect. I have no filter, so I collect junk mail and nearly-empty chapsticks and god knows what else.
I don’t know. I guess I don’t have a dedicated collection.
Your favourite books?
A tough call. This list is a mile long. Some to start you off: Island of the Blue Dolphins, Push, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, What is the What, Cash, The Kite Runner, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Random Family, The Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup, The Orchid Thief, Crime and Punishment, She’s Come Undone, Where the Red Fern Grows, The Color Purple, The Great Gatsby…I could go on and on and on.
What are you currently reading?
The Forever War by Dexter Filkins. Amazing writing and reportage (See again: Current Obsessions post).
By what criteria do you judge a person?
Very interesting question. I don’t know! I have strong feelings about political leanings… I probably judge a lot on that. Sense of humor, apparent kindness, whether they like dogs. . .
What skill would you like to acquire immediately?
Skill or natural talent? Because what I’d love to be able to do is sing. As far as acquired talent, I would like to be good at guitar and piano.
What would you tell yourself 10 years ago? 10 years from now?
10 years ago, I was 18 and starting my freshman year of college. I would tell myself to screw it and take out more loans and study abroad, I would tell myself to get more involved, I would tell myself not to be so damned worried about everything.
10 years from now: I would remind myself that though the 20s were indeed a time of great change and frustration, that there were really awesome parts of my life that I loved and to remember them often. Falling in the for-real love, getting married, living in a loft downtown.
The rules:
1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention, add one more question of your own.
2. Let me know you did this!
Thriller
OK, it has been well documented here how much I love Michael Jackson. And I love marching bands. Geeky, but oh-so-true.
So this is really especially awesome for me, especially considering that it's my alma mater:
So this is really especially awesome for me, especially considering that it's my alma mater:
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Obligation
Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about how busy my life has become. I keep thinking, "Oh, after this I'll have some free time," or "Oh, once this passes I can do x, y, z."
You know what? I don't think that time is ever going to come. That really is just dawning on me in a real way.
Which means I'm going to have to learn to adapt and learn that I'm not going to be able to do everything, and that I can't judge my relative success or failure in life by the number of Yeses and Nos that I have to give people when they ask me for something--no matter how badly I want to do something.
It also means I have to prioritize. I don't like the word prioritize. it seems to suggest that some things can be truly counted as more important than others. I'm always afraid I'm going to hurt someone's feelings or let someone down. And saying "Oh, this doesn't fit on the priority list" seems like the coldest thing ever, even if I'm just saying it to myself.
And that means I have to make sure to schedule in time to spend with my husband that's not just the daily living-together stuff that any cohabitators would have. Same goes for my dog, my family, and ... myself.
It means not overcommitting so that I feel consistently overwhelmed on a weekly basis. And consistently frustrated and feeling like I failed when the to-do list spills over from week to week, month to month.
We all need time to be creative and daydream or blow off steam. It makes us more productive and happy in the long run. I wonder how long it will take me to truly take this advice for myself, no matter how much I believe it for other people.
You know what? I don't think that time is ever going to come. That really is just dawning on me in a real way.
Which means I'm going to have to learn to adapt and learn that I'm not going to be able to do everything, and that I can't judge my relative success or failure in life by the number of Yeses and Nos that I have to give people when they ask me for something--no matter how badly I want to do something.
It also means I have to prioritize. I don't like the word prioritize. it seems to suggest that some things can be truly counted as more important than others. I'm always afraid I'm going to hurt someone's feelings or let someone down. And saying "Oh, this doesn't fit on the priority list" seems like the coldest thing ever, even if I'm just saying it to myself.
And that means I have to make sure to schedule in time to spend with my husband that's not just the daily living-together stuff that any cohabitators would have. Same goes for my dog, my family, and ... myself.
It means not overcommitting so that I feel consistently overwhelmed on a weekly basis. And consistently frustrated and feeling like I failed when the to-do list spills over from week to week, month to month.
We all need time to be creative and daydream or blow off steam. It makes us more productive and happy in the long run. I wonder how long it will take me to truly take this advice for myself, no matter how much I believe it for other people.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Current Obsessions
1. Good reports from the hospital.
2. MAC Fluidline in Blacktrack and Macroviolet.
3. Halloween photos. (we didn't dress up this year, but man, babies in Halloween costumes. Half the reason you people have kids, right?)
4. Public radio.
5. The finally-normal fall weather.
6. Alba Botanica Hawaiian Spa cocoa butter hand & body lotion
7. The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins. Amazing writing and reportage.
8. The word reportage.
9. Roasted sweet potatoes.
10. Grapefruit.
What are some of your current obsessions?
2. MAC Fluidline in Blacktrack and Macroviolet.
3. Halloween photos. (we didn't dress up this year, but man, babies in Halloween costumes. Half the reason you people have kids, right?)
4. Public radio.
5. The finally-normal fall weather.
6. Alba Botanica Hawaiian Spa cocoa butter hand & body lotion
7. The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins. Amazing writing and reportage.
8. The word reportage.
9. Roasted sweet potatoes.
10. Grapefruit.
What are some of your current obsessions?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Post One
Oh my gosh, I nearly forgot it was November today. That would have sucked to be out on Day One.
Yes, I'm gonna try to do NaBloPoMo again this year.
I'm pretty tired after a long week and I want to close out my weekend without sitting in front of a computer screen (I have a long day ahead tomorrow and Tuesday).
But I did want to say something very, very important.
Thank you so much for your kind and supportive comments after the last post. Speaking to just one of the people you rallied good thoughts for, I want you to know that one of my best friends in the whole world had twins last week, and after spending 6 weeks at the hospital pre-birth on bed rest, she experience the mother of all complications after delivery. She was in the ICU for several days afterward. She has opened so much of her life to everyone's business, so I'd like to leave it at that level for the grander internets to peruse.
But she has been transferred to a regular room now, and her two babies are so healthy and thriving. She's slated to come home later this week, perhaps, and begin her journey as a mother.
So thank you. I don't doubt for a second that all our positive thinking helped.
Yes, I'm gonna try to do NaBloPoMo again this year.
I'm pretty tired after a long week and I want to close out my weekend without sitting in front of a computer screen (I have a long day ahead tomorrow and Tuesday).
But I did want to say something very, very important.
Thank you so much for your kind and supportive comments after the last post. Speaking to just one of the people you rallied good thoughts for, I want you to know that one of my best friends in the whole world had twins last week, and after spending 6 weeks at the hospital pre-birth on bed rest, she experience the mother of all complications after delivery. She was in the ICU for several days afterward. She has opened so much of her life to everyone's business, so I'd like to leave it at that level for the grander internets to peruse.
But she has been transferred to a regular room now, and her two babies are so healthy and thriving. She's slated to come home later this week, perhaps, and begin her journey as a mother.
So thank you. I don't doubt for a second that all our positive thinking helped.
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