Midnight Rambler

What Season Is This?

2012-01-11T17:18:00.000-08:00

There has been a disturbingly severe lack of moisture here in Boise. No snow on the foothills, no snow in the mountains, not even any rain down here in our little valley. The hills that form the backdrop of our city just aren't as pretty when they are all brown and dead looking. (Yes, I know, that is the least of our worries with this winter drought we are having ... but still.)

Perhaps related ... perhaps unrelated ... but I think we have lost our second of two beehives. And that makes me very sad. The other hive abandoned its post sometime this fall. One day they were all there; the next, they were gone. In November. I'm not a bee expert by any means, but that seems like a really bad time of year to swarm to a new home. Someone who is a bee expert let us know that this kind of disappearance is a classic example of hive collapse. I feel like we let them down somehow, though no one seems sure of how or why collapse happens. Anyway, today I finally remembered to bring water out to our little hive this afternoon, but I didn't see anything when I stared into the little hole. Not even a bunch of little bee butts trying to keep out the cold. I hope I'm wrong and that they are all just nestled in there, biding there time until spring.

We don't really have the hives to collect honey, though we have partaken of the sweet stuff. I just feel better having a home for the poor, beleaguered bees of this world. Especially since they are the ones who decided to swarm into our yard and make this their home.

On a happier note, all this lack of snow and moisture means that the foothill trails are in excellent shape for hiking and biking. So that's good. My legs and butt like it. And The Dog loves it.

But a little moisture sure would be nice.

Pretty please!

Ring in the New

2011-12-30T08:37:00.001-08:00

Hello there, Blogland. I have been lurking and reading and spying on all of you, but I have not had the gumption to write anything (obviously). It's the usual excuse, so I won't bore you. But it's a drippy rainy day, and I don't have any work to do for the first time in weeks and weeks. So I got up, made breakfast, took The Dog for a walk, and am enjoying a leisurely morning. Next up ... yoga at the Y (I think they'll still let me in, even though they haven't seen me in ages).

No one was out this morning on the trails, the sun was reflecting off the clouds on the far horizon, and everything in the woods smelled wet and kind of musty and very earthy. It was heavenly. There was even a hint of mint, bay leaves, and perhaps pipe tobacco wafting through the air. (Listen to me ... I sound like some kind outdoors sommelier or something.) It's just been so long since there has been anything but dust in my nose, that I wanted to savor every smell. Even The Dog was sniffing everything way more than normal. It was a good morning. Aaaah!

I'm not one for resolutions, but this time of year I always make plans. I don't think it has so much to do with the end of one year and the start of another. I think it has more to do with the fact that it has been two months of craziness ... too much time at my computer, way too much food, no time to just sit and chill and reflect. But once HalloThanksChrisBoxUkah season finally ends, I feel like I finally have some time to breathe and think about how I want things to be a little different. Like taking The Dog for these morning walks. It takes all of an hour, he and I both feel better, and it's good for us. Which all beg the question, why the heck don't I do that every day of the year?

So these are my non-resolution resolutions:

Get up and get out...whether it's first thing in the morning, a midafternoon break, or an after-dinner amble through the neighborhood

Just do it...that little original motto of ours worked GREAT back in September, but we have drifted back into our old ways. The dishes wait until the next day, the laundry piles up, the QuickBooks lies untouched for months (eek). Time to get our Nike butts back in gear.

Just breathe...The past few weeks, I've been working and cooking and working and hosting back-to-back-to-back gatherings and working and stressing about everything, and I find myself not inhaling or exhaling and just holding it all in my throat. I can feel it in my shoulders, head, neck, back. Ridiculous! So I just need to remember to breathe.

Get some perspective ... I've been having little breakdowns over stupid little things lately and taking most of my stress out on poor Mr. J, who is constantly reminding me that these are not problems and certainly nothing to argue, stress out, or obsess over. So, back to the P word. Perspective, perspective, perspective.

Maybe, just maybe ... write more ... Maybe if I were here or in my journal or anywhere getting these stupid little stresses out of my head, I would be able to just breathe, just do it, just keep sane. So perhaps you'll be seeing more of me.

But no promises!

Here's to the New Year. May the Mayans be wrong!

Procrastination

2011-09-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

I have a project that was due three hours ago, and I have ... oh ... about three hours to go on it. And I promised I would have it to him first thing in the morning, East Coast time.

So, of course, I am here in Blogland instead of plowing through the last half of the book.

Why did I not finish it today?

Well, there are many reasons. For one, until late last night (when I was lying in bed thinking, "Hmm, that's strange that he said it was due on the 25th. The 25th is a Sunday, and nothing is ever due on a Sunday."), I thought it wasn't due until the end of the week. So first thing this morning (after fighting the battle of the flies in my kitchen), I checked the due date and realized with much much much dismay that it was due today at 6 p.m.

So you would think I would sit right down and get to work.

You would think that, but you would be wrong.

You see, tonight was Book Club night, and I was hosting. And last Thursday, when I threw a little get-together for some girlfriends here at my place, a friend showed up 15 minutes EARLY (?!?) and then made a comment about how much of a procrastinator I am. Ummmm, excuse me. You show up early while I am still prepping. You don't offer to help. You don't bring anything to the potluck. And yet I am the one with the bad time management skills (which, OK, yes, I do have bad time management skills ... but hey, at least wait until the official party start time to accuse me of not being prepared). Anyway. Long story longer, I was a little defensive and absolutely determined to have everything all set to go tonight as soon as that same friend showed up (and, by the way, she showed up early again ... with a huge bag of peaches for me to either can or freeze or turn into salsa or something but nothing to contribute in terms of food ... which really is OK, but still). So off I went to the grocery store this a.m. to prep everything for the pasta salad. Then I came home and cleaned up all the fly carcasses and cooked up dinner. Then a friend stopped by for a visit. And then Mr J came home for lunch. Which left me with a whopping 2 hours in which to cram in a 10-hour project.

So now here I am, hoping to the high heavens that our incredibly obnoxious neighbors decide to shut down their "musical" jam fest before Mr. J comes home while also thinking about possibly sitting down to actually finish the project.

Aren't you glad I stopped by for this scintillating little chat?

Just Things

2011-09-12T10:07:00.000-07:00

Per usual, I don't have a theme today. Just this pretty photo of our hibiscus plant and some random thoughts bopping around in my head.

Like, why does a young kid who apparently just finished his basketball practice at the Y feel the need to use the handicap button that automatically opens the doors for him? Are his arms so worn out from tossing that big heavy ball? Does the time that he has to wait as the button slowly works its magic to open the doors give him a rest from all his aerobic activity? Does he just like using up the Earth's resources? I mean, it's not like those doors are heavy ... not even remotely.

And ... our "just do it" campaign is going strong and steady around here, though yesterday was a bit of a laze about. After Saturday's weeding and planting and taking 440 pounds of garden crap to the dump and then loading the trailer with even more pounds of the previous house owners' junk from the basement (which we had been successfully procrastinating cleaning out for the past 2 years), the idea of waking up early on a beautiful Sunday morning to replace the seal on the downstairs toilet just didn't inspire us. So instead we enjoyed a brief respite, sipping bloody mary's by the Owyhee Plaza pool with friends, before heading off to Micheal's to continue our home improvement projects. Most of the framing of pictures is now done. Maybe this week I will finally hang some on the wall. Two years of rooms with bare walls is getting a little old.

And ... how on earth can it be 10 years later? I remember like it was yesterday, and yet so much has happened since then. To us personally (mostly all good). To our friends (ditto). To this country (not really all good at all). And to this world (ditto). I remember how kind everyone was to each other that day and for a few days after. We pulled together. We were considerate. People actually looked each other in the eye and smiled and said "Thank you" or "Please" or "How are you?". As tragic as it all was, our reaction as a country gave me hope. And it makes me so sad to see how pulled apart this country has become ... by politics, rhetoric, fear, anger, fanatics on both sides ... by the fact that there are two sides ... us and them. It frightens me.

But, I can't dwell on all that. Because it is overwhelming, and it makes my heart hurt.

So instead I try to focus on what we have ... good friends, loving family, a gorgeous pooch (even if he did help destroy our couch), a roof over our heads, food in our slowly dying fridge (reminder to self: call the fridge repair guy), an income, silly kids at the Y, and fresh coffee in my mug.

Cheers to that.

Twice in One Month?!

2011-09-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

Leave it to me to decide to try NaBloPoMo just before one heckuva busy Labor Day weekend. Hey, I made it through one entire day in a row. That's got to be a record for me.

We had a fabulous weekend, with two back-to-back days on the Main Payette, rafting with friends. The weather cooperated with lots of sunshine and a slight upstream breeze to keep us cool. Then yesterday was yardwork-a-pa-looza. Our tree count is now up to 17 on our .22-acre lot. It's all starting to look fabulous. If I can figure out how to download photos from our camera, I'll post some pics.

After a lackluster August with a lot of sitting around, watching TV, reading books, and not having much energy, Mr. J and I have decided on a new motto for the rest of the year: Just do it. It's very original, don't you think? We are considering making some kind of bumper stickers or something so we can make our millions.

Seriously though, so far, this Nike attitude of ours is working pretty well. Granted, we haven't tackled the basement yet (which has been on our to-do list since we moved in two years ago ... but everything in good time). But it feels good to be getting things done around the house.

Now to just get out there and do some exercise. In addition to lazing about this summer, we have been to about a gazillion barbecues, where we stuffed ourselves full of meat and apps and desserts and alcohol. I finally caved and bought pants a size larger, because I'm tired of cramming myself into my old jeans, which are literally busting apart at the seams. So today starts the regimen. Get some work done this morning, go to spinning class (eek), and then work some more. Then grill up some nice, healthy chicken, with fresh corn from our garden and, of course, zucchinis (which I am just about sick of by now) and basil.

So starts the let's just get fit regimen. Let's hope this lasts longer than my one-day record for blogging!

I Think It's a Sign

2011-09-01T13:10:00.000-07:00

I just saw in my inbox that the September NaBloPoMo theme is "returning." I guess that's the final kick in the pants I need to get back onto my so-so-long-neglected blog. Hello, blog world, I am back. Let's see if I can make it stick for a while.

I have absolutely no excuse for not stopping by and chatting. I do come to this little blog nearly every day to keep up-to-date on all my blog friends. I just haven't felt like writing. Not for any horrible, sad reason. In fact, it's been a rather nice summer (and spring and end of winter). Our days have been filled with work and gardening and the usual fun stuff with friends. No big trips, though I did just return from the East Coast. Yes, I did decide to visit family during one of the bigger storms to hit the New Jersey/Connecticut/Massachusetts area. And yes, my folks and I did drive from Plymouth MA to New Haven CT just as the storm was wreaking (wrecking?) havoc on western Mass and Vermont. But hey, thanks to the horrendous weather conditions, there was no traffic and no toll payments on the Mass Pike. That has to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Bonus!

Other than that, life goes on as usual. Well, OK. A little out of the usual ... Mr. J had a fabulous time in Morocco. I never did stop by here to let you all know that he was working on Mark Burnett's latest adventure reality production, Expedition Impossible. Bad wife that I am. I should have been getting the word out so everyone we know watched it (even if he and I only watched four of the ten episodes). Fingers are crossed that he'll be invited to work on the next season (if they decide to pick it up again). If you do happen to go back to catch any of the episodes, you can see him for a fleeting moment in episode 9. He's the raft guide with the green helmet. Yes, yes, I will ask him to sign any photographs and will send them out via express mail to all his adoring TV fans! Seriously though, the whole things was right up his alley, combining all his years of various work experiences into the perfect fit.

Anyway, here I am returning to the blog world. No big fireworks or parades. Just an incredibly boring update on this life o' mine.

Almost There

2011-04-21T21:24:00.001-07:00

Just a little more than 24 hours until I board a plane and head off for my man in Marrakesh. I am so freakin' excited and yet so incredibly, ridiculously stressed out (yes, that's why I am here, instead of dealing with anything from the following list). Between now and 6 a.m. Saturday, I have to

Figure out what I want to pack
Pack said stuff once I figure it out
Clean house
Get The Dog's stuff sorted
Cancel the mail
Return some shoes (30-day return policy, and Hooray! I will be gone for more than 30 days)
Maybe find some time to tweeze the "eyebrow" and paint the toenails (I hear it is sandal weather over there.)
And, worst of all, get through three more chapters of this:

Our life is based on not reconciliation with the situation. Our life is not based on the innocence with the life. Our life, life is not based to be simple straight and smiling, our life is based on action and reaction. In the oriental science of mind it’s called ‘Karma’ if things are right, you respond right. If things are not right you will respond not right. Your preference is in life to balance out one way or the other. Where it comes from?

Really?? Really. It just makes my head hurt.

And honestly, this is one of the more coherent paragraphs. Oy! It's been a heck of a long month and a half slogging through 30 chapters of this. (Just one reason that I've been so quiet around here.) So I say, bring on the coffee and chocolate! Or, better yet, perhaps a strong shot of whiskey, as that might help me better comprehend what the bejesus he is trying to say.

Wish me luck ... please!!!!

Hot in ... Boise?

2011-04-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

OK, so my lovely wonderful Mr. J left on February 4.

Today is April 8. (Wow ... more than 2 months?!?)

As I told him the other day, I've become quite adept at being a single married woman. Doing my work. Going out for dinner or drinks with friends. Dogsitting where the need arised (arose?). Although I can admittedly say, once again: Thank you to the heavens for Skype, texting, and email. This excursion of his to the far-northern reaches of Africa would have been a whole different story without the more-than-occasional catch-ups via modern-day technology. But still ... I'm getting sort of into my routine. Work, work, work. Visit with friends. Meet for a coffee here, a lunch there, a hike over there, and a drink over yonder ... not to mention the walks that The Dog will occasionally deign to accompany me on ... plus the never-ending supply of instant streaming Netflix (hello, BBC period dramas!).

But tonight, another recently engaged friend was a "bachelorette" for the night because her fiance (who texted about 10 times during the evening) was out of town for the weekend, and she realized she wanted to be single again--like it was some novel thing. I guess that after being engaged for 3 months, 2 nights alone was living it up. But seriously, I do jest. I love her and her fiance and they are too damn cute together, and I think it's the most fantastic thing that they feel this way about each other. But, also, it was fun to have someone else join in my almost-"married singledom" for a night.

And what did we do (ahem ... it may be apparent, at least in part, from my rambling)?

Well, we invited two legitimately single friends to her house and cooked up some amazing pizza (which she apologized for just "throwing together with whatever she had in her fridge" ... oh, you know ... leeks and feta and artichoke hearts and sausage ........ thank God it wasn't at my house, as it would have been wilted carrots and celery, some peanut butter, and tuna), and commenced to watch the first 6 or 7 episodes of Hot in Cleveland (thanks to instant Netflix).

Now, we will all probably admit tomorrow, when our red-wine, whipped-cream-vodka-flavored drinks wear off (not mixed all together, thank you very much), that this is a funny, mildly raunchy sit-com that is kind of like the 40+-plus woman's answer to Three and a Half Men's horrid tits and ass jokes of late ... well, at least of late until Charlie got kicked off the show. But really, Betty White kicks ass! And besides, you get three over-40-year-olds and one mid-break-up-30+-year-old a bit tipsy, a bit full on pizza and popcorn, and My God, was it the perfect girls' night out? Of course, I was thinking the whole time, "This is hilarious now, because we can relate to the 30-year-old jokes and the 40-year-old jokes," but I can so see myself laughing hysterically at the 80-year-old jokes in 40 years' time (really, Betty White rocks!)

I contemplated deleting this post or at least saving it until the caramel-flavored-vodka and soda drinks wore off. But, whatever. This is me, and this is my life ... come what may (and, besides, May is looking like a trip with Mr. J to Italy, Greece, and Turkey, so who am I to complain? I just need to get about 90 hours of editing work done between now and the time I head out the door in 15 days). So, huh.

Yeah ... didn't you miss me??

So much to do

2011-03-24T10:15:00.001-07:00

I am so swamped with work.

So, of course, I am procrastinating by reading blogs, paying bills (boo!), depositing money (yay!), catching up on emails, and contemplating cleaning house.

Deadlines, schmedlines. That's what 3 a.m. is for.

It's raining ... again. But I am not complaining. At least the 24-hour sustained hurricane-force winds have subsided. Everything is starting to bud, which makes me so very excited. The lilacs, the pear trees, our little apple tree, the elm and the ash, the maples. Pretty, pretty. And the tiny little crocuses. Croci? Or at least that's what I think they are. I don't even remember them from last year. More pretty, pretty; all yellow and purple. Hooray for spring--even if snow is in the forecast. I'll take what I can get.

I had a great post about sense memories all made up in my head the other day. But now I can't remember half of it. I really need to get a little notebook or voice recorder or something. When it all comes back to me, I'll get back in here.

For now, procrastination time is over. Time to focus on the Opportunity Finance Network financial report.

Ugh ... is it any wonder I'm procrastinating??

Just Stuff

2011-03-08T10:41:00.001-08:00

So, as I mentioned, Mr. J is off being Mr. Adventure Traveler, working in Morocco on a hush-hush TV something or other. I know more than that (though not much), but I am not allowed to say. Anyway, he is there, and I am here. And all I can say is, Thank God for Skype.

Warning, this post is most likely going to be all over the place (though when aren't my posts all over the place?).

My dad served three tours of duty in Vietnam. They were newlyweds, and for two of those tours, my mom was pregnant. Dad wasn't able to make it home for my birth, and he didn't really know about the actual birth date for several days. I don't think I "met" him until I was 8 months old. He made it back the day before my sister was born (and good for him, as I believe at that point my 23-year-old mom was ready to throw in the towel on the whole Air Force wife deal). Anyway, I bring it up, because I don't know how they survived. I know they had no choice, but I am a wreck if I go four days without hearing from Mr. J. OK, not a total wreck. But I am definitely gloomy. They had to rely on mail and reel-to-reel audio recordings and phone calls in which you had to end each part of your conversation with "over" so the person connecting them would know when to switch cords or whatever it was they had to do. Add to that all the stress of worrying about each other in their respective situations (him fighting wars, her dealing with pregnancy). I really am a wimp compared to them!

My friend was asking me today how I'm doing, and I have been fine. I mean, yeah, it's lonely and quiet in the house, and every now and then I get incredibly sad. But for the most part, I know Mr. J is doing what he likes to do. He's making something of an income (though not nearly what he deserves). And it's not like he is in a life-threatening situation where I have to stress about his every move every day, as I'm sure countless girlfriends/boyfriends/wives/husbands are dealing with all over this country ... or all over the world, for that matter. She also wondered if I was mad at him, saying that most women would be livid that their husbands were going off for what I guess a lot of people consider a second childhood. But I'm not mad. Well, I'm mad when I have to deal with something that is in his domain, such as filling in muddy pits dug by The Dog or trying to jerry-rig a fence to keep The Dog from his favorite area of digging. But that's more frustration at not being able to do what he does so well and without a second thought.

It almost made me question how much I care for him. I mean, maybe I should be sadder or madder or more emotional.

Or maybe I'm just numb?

Or maybe I'm just so used to being in a family where Dad would go off for a week, two weeks, months for different exercises or assignments.

I don't know. I guess the important thing is that all in all I'm OK with everything (either that or I am incredibly good at repressing my emotions). And there is no doubt about how much I care for him and love him and miss him, even if maybe I should be more upset by it all.

Then again, maybe I'm being all magnanimous because I just made plane reservations to join him at the end of April?

Hmmmm, could be.

I know, I know

2011-03-01T19:05:00.000-08:00

I am the worst blogger ever.

I have been either traveling, or in a slump, or just not in the mood, or too busy, or just plain bored. My blog has been empty. My Facebook updates have been empty. Even my email correspondence with friends has been lagging. Actually, dang it, that reminds me. I didn't call my grandmother today ... on her 92nd bday? What kind of granddaughter am I??

My beautiful Nana and Aunt K.

Well ... I did send a card.

Ahem.

But I am still here. Lurking. Reading all the blogs of the wonderful people I have come to know through this weird world of ours.

But not posting.

First there was too much to catch up on. We started with a house project in which we ripped up the carpet from the stairs for a "weekend project" in which we planned to paint them and to just survive with whatever resulted. Well, that was New Year's Day. A month of nonstop house projects later, and we now have an entire new set of stairs, plus "hardwood" floors in our bedroom, plus a bigger bedroom since we ripped out a wall, plus new paint, new baseboards, new pictures ... well, you know. A weekend project turned into a month-long project.

New Stairs

New Floor/Bigger Bedroom

And we finished just in time for Mr. J to head off to Morocco and me to Connecticut.

Gorgeous Niece in Connecticut

Casbah in Morocco

Then I returned to an empty house (except for The Dog, who saved me from my temporary state of despair at being alone).

And now it is nearly a month since we parted ways (temporarily), and I am adjusting to being "single." Work has picked up and kept me ridiculously busy during the days. I've become a serious addict of Netflix streaming videos for the evenings when I have no plans (can you say Masterpiece Classics period romances?!? Hello, Mr. Rochester and Colonel Wickham!). And my friends here are keeping such good care of me. Dinner one night. Drinks another. Free concerts at the Record Exchange in the afternoon.

So even though I am not quite sure when the wonderful, much-missed Mr. J is returning ... perhaps May? perhaps June? ... I am moving right along.

And I am still here.

Just a little off and a little quiet and very intermittent.

But here.

My Goodness

2011-01-07T13:01:00.000-08:00

Where does the time fly? And I don't mean this just because it's been 3 weeks since I last posted, but also because ... 2011?!?! We are already through one entire decade of the twenty-first century. Already? How the heck did that happen?

In 2001, I wasn't even married yet. The Twin Towers still stood (though I didn't much care about them ... they were just two really tall kind of plain buildings ... I much preferred [and still do] the Chrysler Building). I had been to Australia just once. I hadn't been to Morocco or Ecuador or Costa Rica or Samoens or Tasmania (yes, I know it's in Australia, but it really is its own kind of place), or even Boise. And yet it really doesn't seem like that long ago at all. Time may be relative, but it is also completely wacky!

Our holidays were just what we wanted. Too much wonderful food, lots of laughter and love, minimal amounts of gift receiving, and 2+ hours on Skype on Christmas Day, catching up with my beautiful family in Connecticut.

And now I am back at it. Working, playing, all caught up on QuickBooks, ready for whatever 2011 has to throw at me, which most likely will include 3 months of singledom as Mr. J heads off to Morocco to work as a river guide/raft company marketing guy. Yeah ... wow, right? I am hoping to get out there on miles for the end of his trip. I never thought I would get to go Morocco just one time (actually, I never really even considered going there until the opportunity came up in 2003). Who knew I would ever get to go back to that beautiful country?

I wonder what else 2011 has in store for us?

Having Myself an Odd Little Christmastime

2010-12-17T21:31:00.000-08:00

In my 41 years of life, I have spent a whopping two Christmases away from home. This year marks my third.

The first time was for the millennium, when we went to Sydney and spent Christmas Day on Bondi Beach. Talk about surreal! Girls in Santa bikinis and guys surfing while wearing Santa hats. Ho ho ho!

The second time was only a few years ago. Mr. J and I didn't really decorate the house, as it is not part of his upbringing. So just a few ornaments in my office. But, we spent Christmas eve with friends, laughing, eating, drinking, and being merry. So all was good.

And now my third year. Mr. J is on call all next week, and the tickets back east are ridiculously expensive from our little town of Boise. But I was determined to at least decorate the house and get a little of my Christmas on.

So, tonight, while Mr. J was working, I decided to decorate.

Of course, I didn't start until 9 p.m. Which really isn't a big deal, except for the fact that part of my thrifty Christmas plan was to cut down the little pine in the front yard.

So I trekked out to the "back 40" (of our 0.25-acre plot of land) to find the saw in the shed. Then I trekked across the semifrozen turf to the front yard and proceeded to saw away ... on my hands and knees ... in the pitch black cold night ... alone.

I was huffing and puffing and swearing at the fact that our saw was ridiculously dull (I'll probably find out tomorrow that I used a metal saw rather than the proper wood saw ... oopsie), when I looked up to see someone walking by. I can't even imagine what he related to his friends when he arrived wherever he was going. It probably looked like I was attempting to bury Rosemary's baby or some such sordid thing.

It's not really a Christmas pine. Definitely more Charlie Brown Christmas tree, with falling dead needles every time it shakes and all. But with a little tinsel (leftover from Mr. J's Santa Rampage costume) and several of the ornaments my mom collected for me throughout my upbringing, plus the kinda cool LED lights from Grocery Outlet (I love that store), it brings a touch of festiveness into our home.

Mr. Christmas Tree and his Snowflake Queen

I attempted to find some Christmas music to get me in the mood, but to no avail (the station that has been playing carols since BEFORE HALLOWEEN!! had some really crap crap music when I tuned in, and I just couldn't handle it). So instead I put on Pandora and listened to whatever came up. As I was putting on the finishing touches, I realized that the song was Tom Waits "The Road to Peace." What a happy festive little ditty.

There's nothing like putting on the finishing touches to your Christmas Tree while listening to a song about the dismal state of Israel and Palestine.

Hmmm.

The scrawniest little tree, ever

Merry Christmas?

The Dog isn't sure what to think of any of this.

Date Night

2010-12-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

Technically, Mr. J does not believe in Date Night, which is really neither here nor there for this tale. But Sunday night, whether or not he cares to admit it, we went on a date.

After a 5-hour whirlwind of cleaning, during which I completed only 1.5 rooms (though the baseboards and fridge are now spotless), I was D-O-N-E with this house. And there was no way I was going to cook anything in my oven, mainly because it was sprayed top to bottom with stinky, fume-y oven cleaner. What had gotten me through much of my cleaning frenzy (which really only happens once a year, so I know to go with it when it hits) was the one sentence Mr. J had mentioned in passing while I was down on my knees, breathing in bleach, trying to get the high-velocity mud splatter off the walls (dang dogs): "We should go to Red Feather tonight."

In thanks for watching their pooch Roxie, our good friends gave us a super-generous gift certificate to one of the nicer restaurants in town. Thoughts of the Feather's tasty, unique cocktails and even tastier lamb ribs were what kept me going through three mops of the disgustingly dirty living room floor (where I was able to create an entire new life form from the piles of dog hair discovered under the furniture and behind the speakers).

So, by 5:30, even though I wasn't quite done with the kitchen, I declared that I had had enough. I was also starting to hallucinate, thanks to the lovely mixture of bleach, vinegar, goo-be-gone, and oven cleaner. I joked that maybe we should just stay in, as cooking a meal might help dissipate some of the fumes. Mr. J replied, "OK, if that's what you want."

Um ... Major Fail on his part.

He then came to his senses, after hearing me mutter and swear over the fact that I had mopped the kitchen floor four times and was still pulling up mud and dog hair, and said, "I think we should probably get you out of this house."

Yes.

So off we went, arm in arm through the cool, fresh, bleach-free air, to the sanctuary that is Red Feather.

Sadly they were out of the lamb riblets (NOOO!). So instead we ordered the spicy sticky wings. No buffalo wings, these. They were full chicken wings covered in the most amazingly sticky, delicious garlicky sauce. Literally finger-lickin' good. Then onto their infamous spicy lamb burger for Mr. J and the mushroom-stuffed chicken for me. I chose poorly, but that's because it had been so long since I'd been out for a nice dinner, I had forgotten my cardinal rule: "Never order a chicken dish, unless you are in an Asian or Mexican restaurant." So that was my fault.

But then came dessert. We were both completely satisfied with our meal, but the folks at the table behind us and the waitress both recommended the beignets with hot butterscotch sauce. And let me tell you ... if you are ever in Boise, even just passing through, go to Red Feather and order yourself a plate of these little powdered-sugar-coated pieces of nirvana. And the sauce? To die for!! After polishing off the hot-from-the-frying-oil beignets, we still had half a cup of sauce. Mr. J was sopping it up with his finger, while I was trying to eat it with a fork (we are so "couth"). Our lovely waitress, noticing our dilemma, dropped off two soup spoons and mentioned, "These will help." Apparently she is an expert on how best to eat butterscotch sauce. I threatened to lick the crumbs off the table, but Mr. J gave me a look that said it might be a bit over the top, though I could tell he was seriously considering it as well. Mmmm-mmmm.

When it came time for the bill, our lovely waitress wished us a happy birthday (I'm still not sure if she thought it was our birthday. Perhaps it was so obvious that we are the type of folks who never go out for a nice dinner except for on super special occasions. Who knows.) and thanked us for being such pleasant guests on what I guess was a really crappy night for her. And in thanks, we got our beignets free! Who could be rude to this beautiful waitress of ours? Silly them! And in return, we gave her a whopping big tip (and still have $30 left on our gift certificate ... BONUS!).

On the way home, we by the capitol building, only to find a security guard stomping in the snow. We could tell he was writing something with his feet. I was sure it was something along the lines of "F-U, Mr. Governor." I mean, that's what disgruntled security guards do when they are bored and alone in the freezing cold, right? I didn't want to stop and stare. But Mr. J yelled out to the guy, "So, are you Robinson?" Because that, in fact, is what the guy was writing. Mr. Security Guard laughed with glee and asked, "You can read this? That's great!!" Apparently, his boss, named Robinson, was sitting in the security room, monitoring the cameras, and this guy was writing a little "hello." It just cracked me up and made me happy that he actually seemed to be a nice (albeit utterly bored) guy without any angry hangups, at least not that night.

Then again, maybe this was just an absolutely normal thing to see and I was just high on sugar and butterscotch.

Thanks

2010-11-25T09:02:00.001-08:00

There is so much to be thankful for, even with all the crazy, scary stuff happening in the world. Today I am going to focus on all the positive and good, because it is there, sometimes in plain sight, sometimes hiding in the nooks and crannies. I am going to ignore my beloved NPR. I am not going to open The Week. I won't even check out the headlines at Yahoo!

Instead, I will bake an apple/cheese torte/cheesecake thing. And attempt to create one of SmittenKitchen's yummy sweet potato appetizers. (I am so thankful for the wonders that are sweet potatoes!)

I will do like E.T. and phone home and tear up but smile when I hear my family all together, enjoying yet another of Mom's fabulous Thanksgiving dinners.

And then Mr. J and I and The Dog and the dog's buddy will head over to Chef Jay's house for dinner with old friends, new friends, and friends we haven't even met yet. (By the by, he really is a chef, and I am so incredibly excited to try out all his dishes!---why does that suddenly sound dirty?)

There will be much laughter and conversation and eating and drinking and merriment, with walks with the dogs in between and time spent by the fire pit on this bitter cold but blue sky day.

And then Mr. J and I will come home, bellies full, faces hurting from so much smiling. And we will cuddle and catch up and relish in the fact that he doesn't have to work another night shift until Monday.

And for all of that and so much more I am thankful.

I hope that you are all with loved ones, friends, and/or family this holiday season. Enjoy the laughter, the memories, the reminiscing, and of course the food!

So Much for Autumn

2010-11-23T11:01:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am posting about the weather again. I really need to find something else to talk about or I am going to lose all four of my followers.

We got our first snow of the season. So pretty (plus the bonus of a 30-minute upper body workout as I shoveled). But according to the sensationalist weatherfolks on the news, we better stock up on perishables, because in addition to our "blizzard condition" whopping 1.5 inches of snow, the temps are supposed to drop to a high of 5 or something. Oh, woe. Barricade the doors and dig out all the batteries. The end is nigh!

Of course, Friday is supposed to be right back up in the high 30s.

But two days of near-zero temperatures?! Whatever will we do?

I wonder what would happen if our weatherfolks moved to Fargo or Siberia.

*Note: Not that it matters, but in the interests of honest reporting, that is not Boise in the photo. It's a shot of Bear Creek near our old home in Lakewood. I'm too dang lazy to find the camera, take a shot outside, find the cord to attach it to my computer, and load the image to my computer. So there.

I Love Fall

2010-11-17T13:23:00.001-08:00

[Sung to the tune of Oscar the Grouch's I Love Trash, which my ex-boyfriend's computer would sing every time he sent something to the trash, which I still want to set up for my computer because it would just make me smile [and might even inspire me to clean out some of my long-neglected, much-ignored folders].)

Anyway, I know I have said it before, but I so love fall. I don't think the novelty of riding my bike to the grocery store or to meet a friend for coffee or to get some exercise on the hills almost in my backyard or to stumble home from a night on the town will ever wear off. It's been over a year, and I still get a thrill of cruising home with groceries in my basket, breathing in the crisp air, and hearing the crunch of leaves under my wheels. I haven't driven my car (or been in a car) since last week some time, I think. I may not be able to save the world with all this riding, but I love it. Good for the soul, indeed.

Of course, when I do get in my car, I am completely not ready for it. Just driving to the mall puts me in a stinky mood, what with all the "traffic" and "crazy drivers" (not to mention that I hate the mall). Keep in mind, I used to drive an hour each way, every workday, in San Francisco traffic for years. And now Boise "traffic" gives me road rage. My how times have changed.

Now I'm off to bake some (gluten-free) biscuits and cook up a pot of wild mushroom soup.

I love days off almost as much as I love fall (even if a day off means no work, which means no income for today).

Emotional Roller Coaster

2010-11-11T14:06:00.000-08:00

Last night, after a absolutely divine seafood dinner with friends (probably the best seafood I have had since moving to Boise ... not exactly known for its fresh ocean catch of the day), I came home and caught up on blogging, Facebook, emails, etc., before hitting the hay.

Over at Balls to the Wall, I found a YouTube video that had me laughing at first but then quickly led to a full-on meltdown cry that lasted a good 15 minutes. If you have a few minutes, check it out. It's actually very empowering in the end, but it touched a nerve so deep down inside me and resonated with that whole weird, stupid self-doubt issue I've been dealing with of late (well, forever, really). I am going to print out the last line from the video and post it in big, huge letters right in front of my desk.

"The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be."

Words to live by, indeed.

Then, another friend posted a link from Facebook to Damn You Auto Correct!, where I proceeded to laugh until I cried. Side-splitting, saliva-spluttering, tears-streaming-down-my-cheeks laughter. Quite the needed break after the emotional demons brought on by the video.

What a night! But sometimes you just have to let it all out--the good with the bad.

Rainy Day Recipes

2010-11-07T10:40:00.000-08:00

The rain has been coming down all morning, including during that heavenly extra hour of sleep!

After a leisurely start to the day with coffee and donuts at the Kramerstein's and then more coffee at the Mitchell's, we are back at home, planning how to spend the drizzly afternoon.

And this is what I've decided:

Green Tomato Relish, recipe and photo courtesy of Farmgirl Fare

And Green Apple Butternut Squash Soup, recipe and photo courtesy of Phoo-d.com

Plus a few hours to finish up the work project from hell and an hour at the gym to work off a portion of last night's fantabulous supper club dinner. Maybe followed by some knitting on the never-ending baby blanket project.

Not bad for a lazy Sunday afternoon!

Stealing Ideas

2010-11-05T10:07:00.000-07:00

I don't tweet, though I do have a Twitter account for some strange reason. But apparently there is something going around the tweety world where people are giving advice to their 16-year-old selves. Since reflecting back on my former selves, which, of course, are still part of my present self, seems to be my theme this month, I thought I'd hop on the trendy bandwagon.

So, 16-year-old self:

--See all those people in that picture. Those are your friends. So in a few short years, when you reflect on your high school years and seem to think that you were a loner with only one or two friends, you will be wrong. And in 20 long years, you will be back in touch with some of these folks through this thing called Facebook, and you'll see that they are still your friends. (However, that guy with the glasses--don't invite him on a river trip in 15 years. For some reason that you will never quite get, it will ruin your friendship, and you'll never hear from him again.)

--You will learn, after much discussion, that almost no one really enjoyed high school, and this is even more true (truer??) of junior high. You are not the only one questioning everything you do and worrying about everything you say. It's just the joys of hormones mixed with awkwardness mixed with peer pressure mixed with, in the case of junior high, the tenth circle of Hell. The only exception to this rule is the future love of your life (yes, you have one), who moves to the States from Australia at the height of Crocodile Dundee fame. He is a blond-haired, tan, athletic cutie with an accent who gets along with everyone, from nerds to ultrajocks. So, yes, he is enjoying high school ... to the max. Here he is with some "blonde hussy" ... I mean, lovely young lady. But don't worry. In 20 years, when he scans this photo in to his computer, he'll label it "Santa and ..." because he can't remember her name.
--For the next 15 years or so, you will whine and moan and wonder and stress about how life is going to turn out (which mainly will mean, "Will I ever meet someone and have a relationship like my grandparents and parents have?") The answer is yes. Stop worrying about it and go out and enjoy life. See:

(and, yes, that's the Sydney Harbor Bridge ...
you will get to Australia to see the land of the Man from Snowy River ... many times)

--Speaking of enjoying life, when you get that job in New York City for the summer after graduating high school, make the most of it. A summer in the city should not consist of grabbing dinners from a Korean grocery store, dancing around your aunt's apartment, and going to a movie. Check out the museums. Get the last-minute theater ticket deals. Get your cousin to come visit and show you the sites. Live it up a little!

--But ease up on the junk food and start doing sit-ups. Your metabolism may rock the free world right now, but in a couple years, it will all catch up!

--Oh, and be nicer to your folks. Your friends are right ... your parents are pretty dang cool. There is no reason to hate them.

I Can See Clearly Now, My Brain Is Gone

2010-11-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

41 is definitely rapidly approaching. And my brain is really getting good at becoming forgetful and just plain odd.

Evidence #1
I walked into about four different rooms this morning, only to completely forget why I went there in the first place. But each time, just at the last minute, I would see something that reminded me why I was there ... the bottle of antibiotics, the coffee mug on the counter, my sunglasses on the bookcase, the credit cards stashed behind a picture frame on the bookcase (but, of course, where else would I hide my credit cards while on vacation). So I haven't completely lost it yet ... or perhaps I have.

After rounding up all my things, I cruised down to the local co-op to get some milk, cheese, cereal, etc. Of course, I ended up getting about twice as much as was on my list. Isn't that always the way? But, that's not a sign of old age. That's just me shopping and spending more than we have. But, the gourmet cheese was on sale!! How could I say no?

But then ...

Evidence #2
I piled everything onto the conveyor belt thingie, joked around with the lady behind the counter, got my reusable bags to the bagger guy, explaining that I wanted the milk in the backpack and everything else in the bag. Was I organized or what? But then, when I went to pay, I realized that I was holding the gourmet cheese, and my wallet was being sent through the checker.

Ah well, at least we all got a good laugh.

p.s. I will definitely check out Sandra Cisnero's book. Thanks for the recommendation!!

November

2010-11-02T10:45:00.001-07:00

Wow, I am off to a great start on blogging everyday this month. Already missed Day 1. Oh, well. No prizes for me.

Life has been good in general, but a little rough around the edges. In addition to the usual financial woes, it's that lovely time of the month. I swear that Mr. J is affected by hormones each month the same as, if not more so than, I am. It's just joyous. Especially as it usually leads to the same argument we have every month. Like clockwork.

I won't bore you with the details, but it essentially boils down to my incredible lack of self-esteem. In many ways I am so much more evolved than my old 7-year-old self, thank goodness. But when it comes to my body image, I am still a shy little girl sitting by herself on the playground. When I think back to my kindergarten and first-grade self, it's just a very sad picture. And it's amazing how much those two years affected my entire life since.

But, as Mr. J so kindly points out, I am rapidly approaching 41 (ack!). I am not 7. I am no longer all by myself on the playground. I have great friends. I have a husband who adores me (except for when I'm wallowing in ancient self-pity).

So why can't I banish this shy little girl persona? Why do I feel the urge to say "no, no, no" when people tell me I am a good or pretty person. Where on earth does this come from? How did I even realize at the age of 6 or 7 that when my mom told me I was a beautiful little girl, I would think to myself, "She has to say that. She's my mom." Where does that come from?

These are the mysteries of life that I battle with each month. So this month's goal for the daily posting is to return to my search for the good in life ... not just the world outside but also my little world inside. Maybe one month of daily affirmations will slowly beat down this wall of negativity about myself.

Because, as the Junior Senator from Minnesota says, "I am good enough, I am smart enough, and doggone it, people like me."

p.s. Be sure to go out and vote today!

And Now I Pay the Price

2010-10-28T11:12:00.000-07:00

As mentioned earlier, our weekend was grand, fabulous, delicious. An absolutely lovely time was had by all.

But now my skin has seriously rebelled. Was it the pasta? The cheese? The wine? The bread? The beer? The sugary ice cream? Or just a mixture of too much gluttony for one weekend? Or is it totally unrelated to any of that? Perhaps a change in weather? Or the fact that I used different detergent while in Costa Rica (though that really wouldn't affect the skin behind my ear, would it?)?

If I knew the answer to any or all of these questions, perhaps I could stay on top of this annoying rashy condition of mine and keep it at bay. But I don't. So I fall off the wagon, go back to living my old life, live like I want to. And then I wake up with bumpy itchiness all over my torso.

And each time it comes back a little bit worse than before.

If I had decent health care, perhaps I could go to the same doctor on a monthly basis and we could try to solve the problem together. But we have lousy health care with a ridiculously high deductible. So I jump from one clinic to another when things get too bad and beg for antibiotics (me, the girl who hates drugs, especially antibiotics). And I hope that by going on these antibiotics I'm not just building up a tolerance to them so that when I can finally go to a doctor, nothing will help.

So now I'm back to cutting back on wheat and sugar and alcohol and gluten. I am not going cold turkey like last time (though I did drop 10 pounds in 2 weeks ... bonus!). But I will try to be better. If only I didn't like the eating and drinking. It would make life so much easier.

Grrrrr.

Fall and Friends

2010-10-25T10:19:00.001-07:00

What a weekend! The rain started to roll in on Saturday. The first rain we have seen since June (well, not counting the rain I saw in the North Carolina or the fantastic torrential downpours we witnessed in the mountains of Costa Rica). There are still roses on our rose bushes, but most everything else is hunkering down for the fall. One maple has already turned a medley of oranges, reds, and yellows ... all on one leaf; while the other maple is starting to show hints of the brilliant red we were promised. The ash is almost bare, but the sweet gum is stubbornly holding onto its leaves, as it will do all winter.

In other words, fall is here! And I just found out that I have an autumn twin south of us in Colorado. I too am bundled up in sweater and furry shoes, sipping tea as I pay bills and file away paperwork. Nice to know I'm not alone in the joys of everyday life!

Our weekend was fabulous and a huge reminder of why we love where we live. Friday night was roasted chicken night with pals Ryan and Sid. They patiently waited as that stubborn bird took forever to cook. And they raved about it, even though I knew it was a little overcooked. My plot of starving them for an hour or more before eating worked!! :-) Saturday we cooked up a huge pot of stock and then transformed it into a Thai chicken soup and a cream of cauliflower soup, which we then shared with gal pals Judi and Sharki, with some leftovers going to poor, ailing Miss Z. And then yesterday was an Italian cooking frenzy as I whipped up two lasagnas for dinner party #3 ... the first lasagna was the traditional meat and sausage, while the other was a turkey mushroom lasagna that may be my new favorite (don't tell my mom, as the traditional one is her recipe, which I have loved and adored since I was able to enjoy lasagna). And each meal was supplemented with delicious homemade treats, including a pumpkin-chocolate-chip bread from Judi and divine homemade prosciutto and sausage from the Kramersteins.

Wonderful friends, good food, cool autumn weather, a muted rainbow of colors everywhere you look. Just what I want from our autumn in Boise.

Work and Stuff

2010-10-19T19:27:00.001-07:00

I have one fun excuse and one completely understandable, and entirely not fun, excuse for being gone for a while.

I'll let you decide which excuse is which.

We headed south of the border for a couple weeks, living la pura vida down in Costa Rica. The first week was work (for Mr. J), while the second week was pure relaxation. Costa Rica is gorgeous and full of friendly folks, but the highlight for me was our stupendous GPS. Not only did it have this guy who would pop up every now and then to fill us in on the geology, history, or silly facts of the region we were driving through, but the lady who directed us along our way knew EVERYTHING ... even when a speed bump was coming up on some obscure (to me) back road of Costa Rica.

OK, so that wasn't really the highlight of the entire trip, but it was pretty dang cool.

The other reason I've been quiet around here is I've been swamped with work. If it's not the High-Power Laser Handbook (zzzzzzz, huh? What? Oh, sorry. I fell asleep just thinking about it), it's sentences like this that have been keeping my brain swimming:

However, adequate answer to the question as to the extent to which aid to (a) economic infrastructure and services as well as such social infrastructure and services as (b) education and (c) health including basic health and nutrition is devoted to rural areas cannot be answered in the absence of detailed data on the location of such expenditures.

Wha?!?

101 pages of this is turning my brain to mush, causing my eyes to permanently cross, and leading to a ridiculous headache that is encircling my entire head from the neck up. I can guarantee that my hourly rate is not nearly enough to compensate for this one.

Just Like Joaquin Phoenix ...

2010-09-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

I'm still here.

There has been lots going on, but I've been in a pretty good frame of mind. And that usually means I neglect any kind of writing, introspection, blogging updates, etc. Funny how that works.

I'm on this crazy candida diet. I don't necessarily believe all the hype that says a buildup of yeast or bacteria or whatever causes all the woes of the world, from lethargy to impotence. But I do have annoying skin issues that no one seems to know a dang thing about. So now I'm trying out the latest salvo on my body to figure out what is causing it all. The upside of not eating any sugar, alcohol, bread, grain, beans, you name it, is that the pounds are finally dropping by the wayside. Plus I'm drinking way more water than ever (that tends to happen when every other liquid refreshment on the planet is banned), so I'm looking healthier and my little teenage style blemishes are finally clearing up. Huh. Who knew?

One more week to go.

The premise of the whole thing is that you cut out everything to clear out your system (I'm subsisting on meat, eggs, and veggies and lots of almonds in all shapes and forms). Then you slowly reintroduce foods to see if anything has a negative affect. And that theory all sounds fine and dandy.

The only issue is that as soon as these two weeks are over, we are hopping on a plane and heading south of the border to Costa Rica. Hooray!

So, I can guarantee that the slow re-introduction of things like beans, rice, and, oh, alcohol will be a little faster than the experts would agree to. Oh. ... and coffee!! Costa Rican coffee!! I cannot wait.

Anyway, it's probably not the best planning, but the whole Costa Rica thing wasn't finalized until after I started. So ... oh well.

And even though I may never figure out what is wrong with me and my innards, at least I might look a wee bit better in my bathing suit.

Other than not eating anything fun, life goes on as usual here. Work. Bike rides. Gym classes. Walks with the dog. Planting yet more trees. Knitting the never-ending baby blanket. Watching the apples ripen on our tree. Reveling in the cooler temperatures. Ignoring the news because it's just too dang depressing. You know ... Just life.

Hope your life is going just as well!

More Life and Stuff

2010-08-12T10:19:00.000-07:00

I need to be true to my Blogger name. Last night, lying in bed, I had a great blog post all composed in my head ... right around midnight. But I was in bed, and my computer was down here, and now all is lost. So instead, I'll just ramble.

My little experiment in attitude adjustment got off to a rough start. After declaring all my good intentions online, I promptly returned to the real world and became a right pain in the arse. I am totally blaming it on sinus infections and PMS. Not a pretty combination. But when Mr. J confronted me and told me in no uncertain terms that I was being a horrible, nasty sourpuss, I finally came to my senses (antibiotics and loads of Advil helped, too), and I have been on the right track ever since.

In my defense, two other factors came into play as well.

Factor #1: I was getting completely stressed about the fact that I wasn't getting any work, not even from the guy who usually keeps me pretty regularly set with jobs. But it turned out I am a lamebrain (surprise, surprise) and simply forgot to update my calendar indicating how many hours I had available. Hmm, it seems that when you tell someone that you have no hours available, they won't send you any work. Go figure. So now I am inundated with thrilling topics like "Food for All People in Yemen" and "Choices of Coping Strategies." I'll take what I can get, believe me!

Factor #2 is the successful (so far) employment of Mr. J as a polysomnograph tech. A friend of ours is a sleep doctor (probably the cushiest doctor job ever) and offered Mr. J the job. It's not his dream job, but these days beggars can't be choosers. All I know, is that extra cash is going to help me sleep better at night!

So life is good and looking better all the time.

And now for today's look-on-the-bright-side event:

Came home from breakfast with friends to find that the overly loving, totally obnoxious dog we are watching jumped on my work table, knocked over a bottle of water (which I should have closed securely, or better yet, put back in the fridge), and spilled water all over (please, God, let the scanner and external hard drive be OK). After a lot of cursing and swearing, I wiped it all up, put away all the extra junk that had been accumulating on my little table, and even filed the stack of bills and receipts that I have been collecting for the past 3+ months. So, as long as nothing was permanently damaged, I am thrilled to finally have my workspace looking all adult and tidy and organized. So thanks, Ms. Roxie, for being so incredibly annoying!

I hope your day is equally bright-sidey!

Testing, Testing

2010-07-30T09:51:00.000-07:00

The gods, or someone, are seriously against me in this trying-to-be-a-better person agenda.

After a great start, yesterday rapidly went downhill, with the annoying sinus cold sapping every last dose of energy. I managed to finish up the one bit of work I had, and then proceeded to sag onto the couch, too tired to read, watch movies, or even knit. By the end of the night, said sinus cold had migrated into just one ear so that it felt like someone was stabbing an invisible ice pick into my eardrum. I was not exactly a vision of cheerfulness. In fact, I was so whiny and miserable that Nurse Mr. J pretty much ignored me in exasperation. Rightfully so! (Though he did go out at about 10 to get me decongestants and nasal spray. That's true love.)

Today the ear pain has mostly subsided, and I'm down to a miserable drippy nose. But at least I feel a little more energetic. However, I woke up to a notice from my bank saying that my business account was down to $0. Remember that check I was so happy to receive yesterday? Yeah, it sure would have been nice if I had actually deposited it. Oops!

But there is a silver lining to all this woe and misery in my little world: I miraculously did not overdraw my account. The two checks that went out yesterday added up to exactly the amount I had had in my account two days ago. So when it said a balance of $0, it wasn't hiding some negative amount. So first thing this morning, in went the check, and all is right with the world. No returned checks. No annoying bank fees.

I love it when a non-plan comes together.

Life and Stuff

2010-07-29T09:34:00.001-07:00

I think there is a cosmic message out there, trying to get through to me. Blogs I read, posts on Facebook I see, movies I watch, and books I read all seem to have a theme of live life and enjoy. There is all sorts of crazy crap going on in this little world of ours. It's downright overwhelming, not to mention frightening. And it is so easy to get caught up in it all and to feel weighted down with woes of "How will we ever get through all this?"

But thanks to that cosmic message (plus a little pushing and prodding from Mr. J), I am slowly beginning to remember that there isn't much I can do about anything on a global scale.

What I can do is live the best life possible in my own little world and hope that it has the butterfly effect on those around me, which in turn works on those around them, and slowly makes its way around the world.

Of course, not having CNN or Fox or MSNBC in the house makes this goal all the more realizable.

So after my brief relapse into whining and moaning, courtesy of Las Vegas Airport, I am back to working on my don't-sweat-the-small-stuff attitude and my "look for the good things in everyday life" goal.

Today's good things so far: Walking with Mr. J and The Dog downtown to grab a 99-cent cafe au lait from Cafe de Paris; checking the PO box to find a check (yay!); running into a neighbor and chatting about river trips for 15 minutes, while our dogs lazed about in the shade; meeting another neighbor and getting lupine and spinach seedlings from her garden, as well as some basil starts; doing a walkabout through our own yard, planning where to plant the seedlings and what other things we want to do this weekend.

All in all, not a bad start to a Thursday!

Stuck in Vegas, Baby

2010-07-27T20:42:00.000-07:00

I have the worst luck with this annoying airport, with it's blinking blaring jackpot machines and people all so happy to be in this weird, wacky place.

I am now on hour 3 of my extended layover, with at least 2 more to go, thanks to some kind of air traffic control delay or something. Perfect weather outside everywhere I look on the USA Today map. Gorgeous sunset lingering on for hours outside the airport windows. So why the delay??

Why?

I just want to get home to my Mr. J, my The Dog, my bed. Vacations are wonderful, but I swear I am going to need three days to recover from the 12+-hour jaunt from one home to the other.

It doesn't help that my head is completely congested from a week and a half of air-conditioned air. My poor little sinuses are not used to all this forced air.

Can I gripe a little more?

Ya sure, you betcha ...

After shelling out $20 for a mediocre airport dinner of enchildas verdes and a corona, I asked the bartender to fill my water bottle with water. His reply, "We can't do that." I am mystified as to why this is. I've been wracking my brains to figure out why, and then decided that it probably isn't worth the effort. Nor was it worth the effort to fume and steam and stamp around the airport while I searched for a soda fountain machine where I could just fill it up myself (which I did find ... and no one complained ... apparently the water from a measly soda fountain is not as precious as the water from the bartender's little area of the world). Grrrr.

So now I'm looking for bright sides.

The sunset was gorgeous and it did last for quite a long time. And now the lights of Burger King, Sbarro, and Starbucks are reflecting in the glass, blending with the bright lights of Vegas, continuing a sunset of sorts.

So there's that.

Oh, and I get a chance to catch up on my blog. Aren't you just so thrilled to read this cheery post?

And I get to charge my iPod, though, truthfully, I could do that on the plane just as easily.

Oh, and in one of those weird quirks of air travel, during dinner, I ended up sitting next to the same woman I sat next to on the plane, and we had a lovely conversation that helped while (wile?) away the first hour of my 5-hour layover. It was an absolute pleasure and the highlight of my day.

I'm trying to come up with some kind of lesson learned or something ... the art of being patient, perhaps? But I really am having no luck. So, no words of wisdom from me. Just words of whining.

Life's a Beach

2010-07-26T06:59:00.000-07:00

Aaaah, a week in the Outer Banks with most of those I love best. I am utterly relaxed and happy, but also so thrilled to be going home tomorrow. I miss Mr. J and The Dog terribly! The trip would have been a totally different experience with him (Mr. J, that is). He's absolutely tireless when it comes to playing with three beautiful, but clingy, nieces in the pool, and he would have been so patient and calm with them in the ocean.

Lil' Sis and her gorgeous family

But he was in my heart and my mind the entire trip, and it was his presence that kept me calm and cool on Day 3 or 4, when everyone was a little overtired (especially me) and sensitive to the quirks in others that drive us a little batty.

And maybe this is a sign that I am finally growing up. From Mr. J, I have (slowly) learned to smile through the little annoyances, laugh away the occasional snarky comments, keep my mouth shut regarding my sister's sometimes odd relationship with her husband, and mainly not sweat the small stuff. Now I just need to remember this lesson when I get home and apply it to my own relationship. (See Whimsy's post today, as it perfectly encapsulates the rough treatment I give my own husband more often than I would ever care to admit.)

And miracle of miracles, the trip was without a major blowup or storming off to separate corners -- and I'm not talking about outbursts between the kids. I love my sister dearly. Growing up, we were like best friends. But we are completely different people in many respects (obviously), and I think I am finally realizing that that is OK.

It's only taken me 38 years.

Things I Like

2010-07-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

The other day we covered two things I don't like.

So I'll balance it out with two things I do like.

One is a given: The Dog. When Mr. J is out of town, The Dog will treat me as the Alpha Dog, which basically means he'll give me the big hug when I walk in the door. I love it! When Mr. J is in town, I don't even get a second glance, though he does seem to like the group hug. But when it's just me, I am the queen bee and I get all the lovin'. Who wouldn't love this face:

The other is a special treat for today. Our fridge is bare. All we have are some scratched up river beers, a ton of oranges and grapefruits (tonight's project: fresh juice), and some questionable things in Tupperware. But our freezer had a little treat that I had forgotten all about: frozen watermelon. Into the blender it went, with a little lime and club soda (and, yes, a splash of vodka). Et voila ... ice cold, refreshing watermelon juice to cool my parched throat after mowing the lawn. Hooray!!

photo courtesy of Appon's Thai Food

Random Thoughts

2010-07-10T08:41:00.000-07:00

Random Thought 1: I hate bad renters.

I think I have mentioned how much I love our little house here in Boise. I mean, it even has a white picket fence. How All-American of us.

Our House; Their House (I'll let you guess which is which.)

What I don't love is our oddball renter neighbors. Their house is a small box, probably a former miner's home built in the early 1900s. It has the potential to be a charming little box, but it is owned by some old crotchety man and his even older brother. They rent it out dirt cheap and seem to think that maintenance is some kind of new-fangled idea that doesn't apply to old, historic homes. The roof is in serious disrepair, and we know from the former renter that the walls literally crumbled from rot when she tried to repair some tiles in the shower. She (the quiet, well-intentioned renter) moved out as soon as she could get out of her $500-a-month lease.

Now it's rented to God knows how many 20-somethings (though I think maybe they aren't even 20). They parked a school bus, which probably has more square footage than the actual house, in the backyard. And they loaded the house with all sorts of instruments, including an organ and an old upright piano (the latter of which I am seriously coveting, even though it is ridiculously out of tune). I would call the gang of kids grunge, but I don't think that's the right term. I actually think Circus Carney is more appropriate, especially as the music we hear most often coming from the house and bus sounds an awful lot like a cross between Big Top music and the horrid music played by the ice cream truck. Wonderful.

And last night, I looked out my bedroom window (as I adjusted the fan for maximum coolness as well as maximum noise-deadening) to see two lanky, white, scrawny guys dressed in bras and undies, one with a black fishnet dress, the other with high heels. I'm really not sure what this was about. Some kind of theme party perhaps? Maybe it's their band costumes? Maybe they were heading out to The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Or maybe it's just the norm over there. I don't know.

At least it's never boring.

*******

Random Thought 2: There's something I hate more than my neighbors.

So, confession time: My skin hates me. I actually sometimes think I am allergic to myself. My scalp has this condition called sebborheic dermatitis, which can result in scaly, dandruff-like ickiness, especially if I am not totally diligent about washing it every day (as can happen after 6 days on a river trip). I have a tendency to get cold sores if I spend too much time in the sun (as can happen after 6 days on a river trip). I get rashes under my arms, along my belly button, beneath my bra line whenever I get too hot and sweaty or dirty (as can happen after 6 days on a river trip). Oh, did I mention I just got back from a fantastic 6-day river trip on the Middle Fork of the Salmon? Well, I did. And it was a great trip with a wonderful group of people. But now we are home, and I am paying the price.

River Self-Portrait

Friday night, I realized there was still this one little patch of scaliness on my scalp, in a place where it often gets scaly. I thought it was because it was right where my visor sat all week, so it was persistent and wouldn't go away. But by Saturday morning, it was actually tender and sore. I tried to scrub it with shampoo, but I hate inflicting pain on myself, so I stopped. Then it occurred to me that I better get Mr. J to take a look, just in case it wasn't a scale. He picked at it and pulled it out, as I often do with the icky scaliness. Then he stepped away and told me calmly that it was a tick.

I immediately proceeded to completely and utterly freak out (in the shower, mind you). So very grown-up of me.

All I can say is, thank God this happened Saturday a.m., as an hour later, I was dropping off Mr. J at the airport for a 10-day trip to the Netherlands. And there is no way in Hades that I would have ever been able to remove that stupid thing on my own. I would have ended up in a puddle of tears, naked and wet in the shower, too freaked out to do a damned thing.

24 Hours to Go

2010-06-20T17:29:00.001-07:00

The 22-day In-Law-A-Thon is nearing an end. I must admit that it has been easier than in the past. I am sure it has all to do with my occasional attitude adjustments (i.e., going to the gym, meeting a friend for coffee, meeting friends for a beer, beating my head against the wall), as they are just the same as they always are. Loving, kind, too-too generous people who just happen to drive me bonkers in the long term. Mr. J has also been ultra-helpful in aiding me along the path-of-least-resistance. In the short term, it really is the best alternative.

And now I am looking forward to getting a semblance of a routine back. It has been a non-stop eating fest for the past 3 weeks. And the trip out to Portland and Seattle put on serious poundage ... tasty poundage, but poundage nonetheless. We have been home for less than a week, and already we have chowed down on more fruits and veggies than we even considered during our entire 10 days away, when rich, creamy, hearty deliciousness seemed to be the way to go. I think my arteries are bowing own and thanking me. Or maybe that's just a minor stroke. One or the other ... it's got to be a move in the right direction.

So tomorrow I hit the mountain bike trails, and I know they are going to hit back ... hard. But I am ready.

OK, I'm not really ready at all.

But I have to start somewhere.

Right??

Deep Breaths

2010-06-14T20:03:00.001-07:00

The 10-day in-law road trip is complete. I did not lose my cool (too much). I did not make (too many) snarky sotto voce comments. I did not punch anyone (though I did do a few [very hard] smacks of my own head in private). And I did feel like a terrible, terrible wretch when my mother-in-law came down with gout. But then I totally lost it (in private) when she decided that the doctors obviously didn't know what they were talking about, and it couldn't possibly be gout. It's just a mysterious sprain that comes and goes (depending on how rich the food is)--she said as she ordered a plate of Swedish meatballs buried in white gravy. Aaarrrggghhh (shouted in the confines of my own head).

Now we are home, sweet sweet home. I love traveling. I love seeing the world. But I do so love coming home. Even with all the unfinished projects, the mess of a garden, the pictures still to be hung, etc., etc. It is still our welcoming home that has little places for me to find peace and quiet. Not to mention The Dog, who gives me unconditional love with only minor grievances (such as finding out that not only did he dig in our friend's yard, but he also barked incessantly when she wasn't home ... grrrrr).

I have all these crazy tensions rumbling around in my gut, and each time I try to explain what it is that is bothering me, I come off sounding like a total whiny brat. Mr. J's parents are just different from my family. I did not grow up with them, so I don't fully understand their workings. They have hearts of gold. They only want the best for both of us. But they are hovering, needy, opinionated folks. [There, I said it.] And all I really want is to kick back, share a bottle (or three) of wine, and giggle over ridiculously silly things that are totally inane and completely goofy, as I do with my family. I mean, a girl can only be serious and refined for so long.

Yes, the woes of my life are many and tough. Poor, poor me. So, one more week of in-laws in my home. I can manage to keep my cool ... all I need are deep, deep breaths and the occasional super-stiff cocktail.

Cheers!

A Quick Recap

2010-06-04T22:04:00.000-07:00

The Scene: Friday Night Dinner with Mr. J and the In-Laws (the I-Ls)
Discussion: When to go to Sun Valley, ID, to visit the I-Ls' family friend

[Note: dialogue has been modified to fit the writer's lazy mood]

Mr. J: We could go for an overnight trip a couple days after we get back from our NINE-DAY roadtrip.

All of Us: Sounds good.

Mr. J: Dad, what's your friend's address. I'll plot out our route? [Yes, the computer was on the dining room table while we ate. Of course.]

Mr. I-L: It's somewhere like Sun River. I guess that's a suburb of Sun Valley.

All of Us: Sounds logical.

Mr. J: [Click click click on the keyboard] Ummm, I'm not finding a Sun River, Idaho. Show me the address?

[Looks at address.]

Mr. J: Uh, Dad, this is in Oregon! Not Idaho.

Mr. I-L: [Visibly nonplussed. I guess one state is as good as another when you come from Australia.]

Turns out Sun River is sort of on the way to Portland, though not exactly on the direct route we had planned for Sunday. Mr. I-L calls his friend and yes, indeedy, they are home this weekend and would love to see us. However, because all our rooms are booked from Portland to Seattle to Leavenworth to McCall, we can't exactly shift everything out a day. So instead everything shifts forward a day. Which means tomorrow, when we had planned to mow the lawn, plant a few plants, clean out the chicken coop (We don't have our own chickens. We are chicken-sitting for friends.), clean out the beehives (all four of the them ... one "sort-of" ours and the rest the chicken people's bees), go to the Farmers' Market, go to a friends' dinner party tomorrow night, and pack up all our stuff, we get to wake up early, try to cram all the necessary chores in, and get on the road no later than 11 a.m. to make it in time for dinner. [If you knew Mrs. I-L, you would know that getting out the door on time for anything is a near miracle. Wish us luck.]

I did have an entire venting session written out here, but it's really not worth your read, and I feel better having gotten it all off my chest, even if it was just to delete it. Then again, perhaps the stiff gin drink I'm guzzling ... I mean sipping ... as I type has had something to do with easing my tension.

In any case, it will be quiet around here for a while. Enjoy your week!

How on Earth Can It Be Friday Already?

2010-06-04T12:14:00.000-07:00

I sent off the GMBOA yesterday, all full of goodies. So, Jayme, be ready! I hope you like it. I used some of the cute little heart brads from the Wonderful Wandering Nana to decorate the exterior. It's so happy and red and white and gold. What a fun diversion I found in filling it up! Thanks, Whimsy, for letting me participate!!

There's a little notepad in there, which I believe came from Whimsy (??), on which each recipient is to write a brilliant idea. I am the conceiver of many "brilliant" ideas (though when I tell Mr. J, he usually just looks at me with a "huh" expression, and then he laughs. I guess brilliance is in the eye of the beholder or some such thing). And yet when faced with that innocuous little pad, my mind was a total blank. For the entire 3+ weeks that the package sat here beside my desk, I would stare at it and try to come up with a brilliant idea. Well, yesterday was D-Day, and I had to ship off the GMBOA. So I wrote something not very brilliant at all and just sent it all off.

Of course, today, as I sat down to my computer, I remembered one of my brilliant idea. So without anymore further ado, here it is:

Some kind of waterproof recording device--whether it be a waterproof pad and paper, or a waterproof voice recorder, or even better, a waterproof laptop--to be kept in the shower.

Really, it is brilliant. Or at least for me it is.

When I'm standing in the shower, wasting the precious water that they charge us pennies to use, I come up with so many blog post ideas. I compose them in my head. I laugh. I cry. They are witty and clever and entertaining and smart and just perfect. As I rinse out the conditioner from my hair, I recite it all in my head, convinced that I could never forget my perfect prose.

And then I come here to my Mac.

And my mind goes blank.

I sometimes recall the topic . . . sometimes. But for the life of me I can't recall where I was going with the idea, what I wanted to say, what my final point was. It's all just gone.

So that's my belated brilliant idea. Ta-dah!

Stuff

2010-06-02T18:22:00.000-07:00

The other day I got an email letting me know the latest NaBloPoMo theme. It's all about the Now. Unfortunately, I am so behind in this little blog o' mine that I should probably write about the What Has Been before catching up to the Now.

The last I wrote (before the whole GMBOA excitement, which I am FINALLY mailing off tomorrow), I left you all hanging--wondering and waiting to hear if we ever ended up having to slaughter a colt during our snowbound river trip to the Lochsa.

Well, the short answer is NO!

The longer answer is that we never made it to the Lochsa. Cooler, calmer heads prevailed, and we almost all agreed that rather than camp out in 26 inches of snow, while freezing our tooshies off in a raging river, we'd much rather chill in our friend's family "cabin" just south of beautiful McCall. To call this place a cabin, however, would be like calling Hearst Castle a modest ranch house. It could easily sleep 15, comfortably. The huge gourmet kitchen and living/dining room overlooked the Payette River Valley. The hot tub was the just-right temperature. The food was fantastic. The company was spot-on perfect. All in all, it was a wonderfully relaxing weekend. And we even got in two trips down the river (the Salmon and then the Payette on the way home), plus our first and last ski day of the season on Brundage Mountain's (its closing day, for which it received a foot or more of fresh powder). Hea-Ven! And just the relaxation we needed before our next big project ...

Sprinkler Installation! If you've never installed your own sprinkler, I will spare you the details. If you have, then you know that I've already written more than is necessary. All I know is that it is done (except for some last filling in the soil bits) and that it has rained nearly every other day since we installed it. Just like washing your car, I guess.

After two weeks of the fun that is sprinklers, we loaded up the coolers and camping gear again for our third river trip of the season. This time down Hells Canyon. And, oh my, was it gorgeous. Apparently it's usually dry and barren, though still stunning. But thanks to the wet spring, the canyon walls were bathed in green, the birds were chucking, the fish were jumping, and the weather even cooperated a bit. But lest you think I'm some super-tough outdoorsy type, let me assure you: We were far from roughing it. The main camp tent was a base-camp style expedition tent that could easily sleep 15. And on the second night, the trip leader, the ever ingenious Mr. B, set up a river hot tub that was maintained at a heavenly 98 degrees all night.

We then spent Memorial Day weekend completely and utterly chilled out at Burgdorf Hot Springs (I am noticing a theme with my weekends away). This extremely rustic site north of McCall has a large hot springs pool surrounded by cabins dating back to the early part of the century. Another weekend filled with wonderful friends, divine menus, and re-lax-a-tion. Once again, the perfect thing I needed to prep me for today ...

In-Law Arrival Day. I love them dearly, but three weeks is a loooong time to spend with anyone, let alone slightly pesky, though lovable, in-laws

So my goal for right now and the coming three weeks is to stay positive, laugh off the annoying little things that drive me bonkers (after all, it's my problem, not theirs), and, if all else fails, resort to copious amounts of wine and margaritas. That's healthy, right?

And the Phlegm Goes On . . .

2010-05-26T10:07:00.001-07:00

I have been in absentia . . . again. I have a whole photo montage detailing why I've been out of touch, but right now, just typing this post is taking all my energy.

My blog friend over at The Creamery is doing a thing this week and next (?) and maybe for even longer in which she is posting about finding joy every day. As always, I am loving her posts. And right now, it is definitely a good challenge for me.

Here's my little bit of joy for the week:

For a year, we lived in Flower Mound, Texas, north of Dallas, not too far from DFW, smack dab in between two huge reservoir-y type lakes. To say that we hated it there would be a huge understatement. Mr. J and I were both miserable. The Dog, on the other hand, loved it. Never had he experienced the joys of lukewarm lakes and creeks and bugs, bugs, bugs galore to hunt all night in the backyard. But as much as we love The Dog, we were not willing to sacrifice our souls to stay in that town. (No disrespect to any Texans out there. It just was not our scene.)

Anyway, while living in Dallas, I had one and a half gals and one and a half guys that I would consider friends. For an entire year. I can survive on my own just fine and am able to keep myself entertained for weeks on end without seeing a soul (see: learning how to knit), but a girl needs more than a total of three friends to keep her sane. Sad, sad times. But there was a silver lining: With all that alone time, I don't think I got sick even once that entire year. No sore throats, no horrid stomach bugs, no weeklong flu that saps the very life out of you. Other than my weird, annoying skin rashes, I was the picture of health.

Here in Boise, on the other hand, we have more friends than we know what to do with. It's already gotten to the point that when we invite people over, we have to wheedle down the guest list. Otherwise we'd end up with close to 50 people for a small barbecue. And we only just moved here in August. It's actually incredible. And it is all very joyful. But that is not the joy I am finding today.

Today I can barely see through my two eyes, thanks to a raging case of conjunctivitis, which I haven't had since I was, oh, I don't know, 8? On top of that, it hurts to swallow and cough, and my ear is aching like nobody's business, all thanks to an upper respiratory infection. Joyous. So for the third time this year, I am going on antibiotics again! (Me, the woman who HATES drugs, especially antibiotics). Yes, it is all very sucky and lousy and so very annoying. And yet, it is all because we have friends. Friends who say, "Here, try this piece of brisket," as they feed it to Mr. J with their bare hands (which led to the horrid stomach plague of early spring). Or who offer a sip of their drink to see if I would like to order the same thing, which, I believe, has led to this wondrous trip down phlegm alley. So that is where I am finding the joy. I may be sick, but I am in a place I love with people I look forward to getting to know better and better. I can see myself living in this city for many, many years (like more than 10). And that is something this Air Force Brat had never even considered in any of my past homes. I am home and I belong here and that is so very joyful.

Now pass the antibiotics, please!!

And the GMBOA Goes to . . .

2010-05-13T10:53:00.000-07:00

I loved reading the different answers and have even written out Bethsix's to keep near at hand as a little reminder. (I have a whole host of sayings on Post-it notes scattered around my desk. And thanks to Wandering Nana's GMBOA, I now have more Post-it notes to fill up, all with a cute little pen.)

I thought perhaps Mr. J would go with Erin's, what with him being a true Calvin fan. But I think, as usual, his stomach beat out his brain!

So, without further ado, the next GMBOA recipient is Jayme and her "Mmmmm, bacon" mantra.

Jayme, you clever girl. You knew exactly the answer that would go straight to Mr. J's heart and soul ... and salivary glands. His one true love (other than me . . . most days) is bacon. His favorite ad is the one that says "Bacon makes everything taste better, even bacon." He just recently tried bacon-infused vodka and thought it would be the perfect complement to a Bloody Mary, and I do believe he may be right. And all of this from a man raised in the Jewish religion. He's so devout, don't you think?

So, Jayme, please send me your address via email, and I will prepare the Golden Minion Box of Awesomeness for its next grand adventure. [And now the fun part ... finding all the little goodies to fill the box. Yay!]

GMBOA Contest

2010-05-06T11:45:00.000-07:00

Eek!

I am rapidly approaching the 3-week deadline for getting this contest up and running. I must admit, I am very nervous. The Minion-lympics were an inspired weeklong series of fun contests and questions, and the "How DO you pronounce GMBOA?" contest was so much fun (and I'm not just saying that cuz I won, which I am still in shock about ... OK, I'll let it go, already). So what do I do?

Well, as I alluded to a couple days/weeks ago, Mr. J came up with a pretty clever idea. And I think I have it sorted in my head how it will work. So here goes:

Provide a headline or cartoon strip or fortune cookie saying or line from a book, poem, song or anything else already written by somebody else that captures who you think you are. Answers can be serious, funny, self-deprecating, self-aggrandizing. Whatever you like. You may also offer explanation(s), as needed (see example below).

Enter by posting a comment in response to this blog post. You can enter as many times as you like, depending on how you feel at any given moment. (I know that my vision of who I think I am changes hourly, and sometimes even minute-ly, which is different from minutely.)

In one week (on May 13th around noonish Central Standard Time), I will read all the entries to Mr. J for him to judge, according to his own wishes. It's all very scientific and technical.

In order to compete, you must be a follower (Minion) of Miss Whimsy over at the Creamery.* Just head on over there, and click on the follow button. You won't be sorry! [Note: This link also takes you directly to the full rules and regulations for the Golden Minion Box of Awesomeness.]

* Whimsy, I do recall the two exceptions to this rule, and will take that into account when judging.

For a very bad example of an answer to this contest, when I was a teenager, my favorite pin button thingie read, "I used to be apathetic, but now I just don't care." Because, of course, as a fully suburban teenager, I thought I was all cool and tough and that cool, tough people just don't care. Plus, the wordie in me thought is was so incredibly witty and funny. I mean apathetic means "I just don't care." Get it? Get it? Oh Lordie, I was just so dang sophisticated as a teenager.

Mr. J, on the other hand, might have had this very cartoon in mind when he came up with the idea. He and I used to debate this question, with me getting very aggravated by the end of each debate. I've since decided that Hobbes has it exactly right! [Cartoon taken from The Essential Calvin and Hobbes, reprinted here without any permission, which probably means I'll get in super-duper trouble, which probably means I'll panic in a couple days and take it down from this blog post all together, because I'm a paranoid weirdo.]

So that is the contest, in all it's glory. I look forward to the answers and to sending on the GMBOA to the next Creamy Minion!

Insane in the Membrane

2010-04-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

I have been MIA again. Still busy with the house. Last weekend we were swarmed by bees and now have our own honeybee hive. That led to cutting down all of the old trees in our backyard. Which, in turn, led to the pseudo-orphaning of two little baby mourning doves and then the cruel agony of watching mama bird return later to no nest, no babies, and a torrential downpour that lasted all night. Mr. J and I were both in tears about that. She has finally left the area, so I no longer have to hear her telltale call. I will never be able to listen to a mourning dove again without getting a big ol' lump in my throat.

The swarm, settling down in one of our former trees

The swarm's new home

This horrendous juniper is now long gone,
as are the birds who had made it their home. Sorry birds!!

I have not forgotten about the GMBOA contest. I have an idea, courtesy of Mr. J, that I think you will like. But I need a little time to flesh it out, and this week, time is something I don't have a lot of. [ouch ... "a lot" and ending a sentence in a preposition. But I'm in no mood for wordsmithing right now]

What's on my mind right this very minute is that we are going on our first rafting trip this weekend on the raging Lochsa River up near Lolo Pass. Apparently this is the spot along Lewis and Clark's adventures where they had to kill a colt to feed the crew, where they faced near starvation, and where they were caught in an unseasonable snowstorm. And from what Mr. J just called out to me about the weather, I think that we may be in for a wet, cold weekend ... and not because of the river water. Thus the title of the post ... What are we thinking?! But it will be fun, and we'll have stories to tell. And I'm hoping none of those stories will have to do with the killing of colts or mourning dove abuse or frostbite leading to gangrene.

So, when I return on Monday, after my fingers thaw out so that I'm able to type again, I will be here with the GMBOA contest and possibly a story or two of the craziness that was our weekend.

GMBOA

2010-04-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned briefly in an earlier post, I have been super-duper honored with the Golden Minion Box of Awesomeness, which was started by Whimsy through her Minion-lympics. Yesterday, as I sat at my desk, "working," I saw Randy the Postman approach the door with a brown box in his hands. I was at the door before he had even latched that gate closed, and the brown box was open within minutes. And oh, joy. There it was in all its golden, Mickey Mouse-ified glory. Unfortunately, my photographic skills leave VERY much to be desired, but here's my best shot:

And inside, what fun! Wonderful Wandering Nana met all the rules and then some (yes, there it is, nestled between my printer and my file box):

Rule #3: Add some kind of decoration or enhancement: Very cute red and white papercut Mickey Mouse decals (forgive me, Wandering Nana, if I got the technical name incorrect. Did you make those yourself? So very cute!)
Rule #4: Include some kind of action figure: I actually have several items here--a little traveling gnome, a Madame Alexander Cowardly Lion (courtesy of McDonald's ... I never knew they gave these out!!), and another little McDonald's dude ... perhaps from Sponge Bob? I am not really sure, even though he's my favorite.
Rule #5: You must include some kind of mini bottle of something: Bath & Body Works Orange Ginger energizing nourishing body lotion. Smells (and feels) SOOOO yummy on my hands.

But wait, there's more:

A packet of tissues in a very cute holder. No more phlegm for me! (See below.)
A sticky note pad and pen for all my little reminders
A chattering teeth chip clip ... love it!
Halloween confetti!! How did you know that's my favorite holiday?
A binky
Incredibly cute little heart brads
A very cute flower bookmark
A Fourth of July decoration

And saving the best for last:

My very own golden boa in honor of the prize-winning name of Gym-Boa.
An engraved medal indicating my Minion cabinet office of Interim Phlegm Czar! HA!!

So now the pressure is on. I must come up with a contest so that I can pass the GMBOA on to its next happy recipient. I must also gather all the goodies to pass on to the next winner (though we are all winners). I will post all the rules, etc., when I come up with said contest.* I'm actually tempted to have a contest to come up with a contest, but that gets confusing. So stay tuned!

* If you are interested in this contest, note that you must first be a Creamy Minion. All this requires is hopping over to The Creamery and becoming a follower--an easy enough request, as her site is a joy to read and follow.

Fabulous Friday

2010-04-16T16:10:00.000-07:00

My mom's cousin just forwarded this photo on to the entire family. This is my great-grandmother, AKA Nana 2 (my grandmother was Nana 1, even though Nana 2 was a bunch of people's Nana before my grandmother was anyone's Nana). Anyway, I think in this photo she must have been 90 or so years old. That's my Grandpa's (her son's) pipe and hat, and that's my most favorite lake in the whole world behind her.

What a great shot to start off this gloriously springlike weekend. May your days be filled with as much glee and love as this woman enjoyed every day of her life.

And Another Thing

2010-04-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

Wow ... two in one day. You know I must be procrastinating!

Just a quickie to say that a friend of mine from high school -- actually, we were really more acquaintances in high school ... she was WAY cooler than I ever was -- ANYWAY, we are now Facebook friends, even though we haven't seen each other in more than 20 years. Again ... anyway, this friend of mine has started a blog, and her latest post seems to be written just for me. So stay tuned, for soon I will be making my list of things to be grateful for. I know I have done it before, but I need to get out of this habit of complaining, even when things are really good (or even only partially good). Got to look at that silver lining!

Speaking of silver lining ... I am somewhat steadily employed and better get back to it before that status changes due to one too many missed deadlines.

So Much To Do

2010-04-12T10:54:00.000-07:00

I've been MIA again, but this time not due to sickness or sheer laziness or lack of anything to say.

A week ago Friday, I bought two bookcases from a shop that is moving to a new location. I got a steal of deal of $10 each. What a bargain!

The two bookcases, stashed in the corner

The next day, at about noon, Mr. J and I sat in my office, trying to figure out how to organize the room, where to place the bookcases, etc., etc., which led to the discussion of, "Well, we do want to pull up the carpet and paint the walls." "Yes, but I thought we were going to work in the garden this weekend." "Yeah, well, maybe we should do this first." And off to Home Depot we went to get all the materials to rip up the carpet, paint the plywood (for our temporary ghetto-hardwood-floor substitute until we can afford the real stuff), paint the walls, clean up the trim, etc. etc. All so that we could then move in the $20 bookcases. So much for my bargain.

For a week, our living area looked like this:

Ack!

as we did this to my office:

And now it looks like this:

Yay!

All that's left to do is hang pictures, shorten the curtains, and find some new bookcases. Because, alas, after all that, we decided that the bookcases really didn't go with my office. So now they are being used as clothing shelves in our bedroom (in place of the cardboard boxes that we had been using as dressers for the past 7 months ... really, we are not still in college. We are grown adults ... sort of. Really.)

After a brief respite of having the house all in one piece again, we started in on Mr. J's office, and once again our living room looks like this:

If you know anything about home "improvement" projects, I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that in the process of ripping up his carpets, etc., we discovered that the wood around his window was rotten and icky and mucky from a leak that the previous owners decided to just ignore:

Oooh, pretty!

So yet another quick-and-easy project turns into a major chore. But already, it looks like this, so we are making terrific headway ... all things considered:

In between painting and moving and taping and priming, we also had time to plant a huge donation of clippings and cuttings from our neighbor's garden, buy all the materials necessary to build a fence around our future veggie garden, and attend a fantastic wedding reception up at Bogus Basin for some good friends of ours.

The happy couple

So, that's where I've been. Oh, and I am also anxiously awaiting my prize for winning the most recent round of the Minion-lympics ... or maybe it's completely separate from the Minion-lympics? Hmmm, I don't know. (Some Minion I am!) In any case, I was so happy to hear that I had won the next incarnation of the GMBOA from Wandering Nana. I cannot wait, though I'm very apprehensive about the contest I'll have to initiate to pass it on to the next grand prize winner. [If you have no clue what I'm talking about, take a gander at Whimsy over here and Wandering Nana over here.] I never ever win anything, but I won this, and I'm so so happy about it! Yay me :-)

Google Analytics-Inspired Ramble

2010-04-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

It is a momentous day here at Midnight Rambler. Are you ready for it? I got my second follower!! Welcome, Jen of Haute Whimsy. (And there was much fanfare! I am picturing lots of confetti and party horns and fun hats. And virtual confetti is fantastic because there is no mess afterward!) [There were other photos indicating fanfare, but this one made me smile the most. So there you have it.]

So all this excitement reminded me that I use Google Analytics to track the vast amounts of traffic on my blog. Last I looked, I think I had had, oh, maybe 50 visitors, with most of those being myself before logging in as myself. I hopped on over there this morning to see what was happening and who was stopping by. And, boy, did I feel bad that the top 10 or so keywords searched to reach my site were variations on a theme of "squeamish cell carcinoma." I want to send out a huge apology to anyone enduring the wait to find out how bad their squamous cell carcinoma is, who go out looking for medically certified answers, only to stumble on my rambling, squeamish thoughts. [I also feel compelled to point out that I do know I am spelling it wrong and that was totally intentional, because just the thought of some foreign cancerous thing growing on my body (and the subsequent surgery to have said growth removed ... while I was still conscious and talking to the doctor) still makes me utterly and completely squeamish. Ick!]

And that thought right there never fails to get a smirk from Mr. J, who likes to remind me that I often come up with thoughts like, "I could be a crime scene investigator." (after watching CSI, of course) or "Maybe someday I'll get an aesthetician's license and earn a little extra income." (after meeting someone who did just that and loves it) Mr. J then likes to remind me that (1) I can't even think about blood and guts without flinching, and (2) I won't even pop a zit on his back without a great deal of "ewww" and "gross" and "that's disgusting" (not exactly the words you want to hear as your aesthetician works on your face, I suppose).

This isn't a new phenomenon. Back in the day, after watching Nick Nolte and Deborah Winger in Cannery Row (I think I might need to go back to watch that movie. I remember absolutely loving it back when I was a preteen.), I decided I wanted to be a marine biologist (albeit, a marine biologist living in 1930s in pre-high-falutin' Monterey). Then, in my 20s, I went to the Monterrey Bay Aquarium and discovered that I couldn't even bring myself to pick up a starfish in the kiddie pool area (the 10-year-old boy next to me thought I was a big wuss; and he was right). Then, after seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark (are you detecting a theme, here ... other than my absolute love for parentheses and asides?), I decided I wanted to be an archaeologist, despite my absolute fear of the dark and my detestation of creepy, crawly bugs. In college, I actually took an archaeology class and discovered that not only is it incredibly tedious with memorization of a ridiculous amount of information, but also, rarely ever do you go out in the field unless you are really, really lucky (or, in my case, unlucky).

Wow, what a tangent that turned into! A few sips of coffee after a week with no coffee, and look at me go! So, welcome, Jen. Thanks for stopping by. And I really hope I win those gloves :-)

Whew, Glad That Is Over

2010-03-31T11:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I weathered the storm as best I could, but it certainly was not pretty. About halfway through the night, I considered investing in adult diapers just to solve the conundrum of which way I should face the toilet for the next onslaught. Instead, since it was pretty much all liquid by that point (ew, sorry. TMI?), I just migrated into the shower and washed it all down the drain.

What a pretty picture I paint.

Speaking of pretty pictures, looking out my office window, I am seeing very pretty pictures indeed. Did I mention that the city came out and planted the three new trees in place of our big silver maple? So in addition to my little Japanese red maple, I can now also watch what I believe is a silver linden grow, day by day. Little buds are sprouting everywhere on all the trees. Our crab apple and our "real" apple are slowly starting to flower, as are the chanticleer (non-fruit-bearing) pear trees. I think tomorrow we'll celebrate being over the evil 24-hour bug by buying a couple more fruit trees for a mini (emphasis on mini) orchard.

Someday, our little tree will look this ...
oh, in say, 40 years or so? No worries. I'm patient (sometimes).

And inside my basil, cilantro, and strawberry shoots are coming up. Of course, we have yet to break up the concrete slab that is covering our future herb garden, but we'll make a plan. If anything, I'll have lots of basil in pots all over our patio.

Hooray for spring (and the fact that I lost 4 pounds courtesy of the plague and I have yet to fully regain my appetite ... which could use some subduing these days).

Waiting for the Storm

2010-03-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

There's this virulent little bug circulating among our friends. It started with Miss Z. She thought she had food poisoning, but it turns out it was some kind of stomach flu masquerading as food poisoning. Then it moved on to the K-Stein family, including 6-month old Syd. We, over here on the 6th Street side of the North End, thought we had escaped the wrath of the bug, but then there was the Saturday barbecue. JB and Mr. J both caught it at the same time. And now here I sit, feeling crampy and runny and extremely nervous.

Is it just nerves and lack of food that is making me feel so horrible, or is this the start of what we have all come to call the North End Plague? I don't know. But either way, it sucks.

Time to make another bathroom run. Wish me well on this "joyous" journey of sickness.

Tales from the Shower

2010-03-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

Do any other bloggers out there in the Blogosphere compose entire posts while standing in the shower, or is this just my modus operandi? It happens more often than not that I come up with brilliant, witty, completely fascinating posts while standing under a stream of hot water. Then I go to my computer, check my email, read other blogs, check out Facebook, make a list of what I need to do throughout the day, eat breakfast, feed the dog, put away the dishes, chat with Mr. J, etc., etc. By the time I get to this blog, I have completely lost whatever brilliance I might have had in the shower and am left writing things like this.

Or maybe it's just one of those things ... like we always sound better singing along to the radio in the privacy of our own cars (you know we do!). Maybe my shower thoughts just seem fantastic in the silence of my own brain.

I honestly cannot remember what I had concocted in my head this morning, but I was very excited to get down here and get it on the computer. But then life interrupted, and here it is 2:15 p.m. and I can't even recall a glimmer of the idea.

Maybe I should get some kind of waterproof notepad and keep it in the shower. Or how about a waterproof laptop? Actually, if I had that, I might never get out of the shower. I do so love enjoying a steamy hot shower (even though I know it's a total waste of water and energy ... no one is perfect).

So instead I will share this brief glimpse into the romantic conversations between myself and Mr. J that take place when he is traveling to exotic locales around the world (this past week he has been in Costa Rica ... the butthead):

Mr. J: I pulled out my underwear this morning and funny thing, a pair of yours fell out as well. Only problem was, you weren't in them.

[then, later in the day, on another Skype chat]

Mr. J: Why can't I get your underwear out of my head?

Me: What'd you do, stuff it in your ears? Maybe some tweezers would help.

Yes, that is why the man married me. For my fantastic skills at long-distance sexy phone conversations.

p.s. As I was uploading the picture, I remembered what my brilliant post was, and truly, it's not that interesting at all. Something to do with rescuing dogs at midnight and my studio apartment in San Francisco. So I guess maybe it's a good thing I don't have that waterproof laptop after all.

Just Stuff

2010-03-24T11:42:00.001-07:00

It's been so long since I've bought whole 100% full-fat milk that I forget what it "acts" like. We have been soy drinkers or skim milk drinkers or whatever for so long now (Mr. J is mildly lactose intolerant ... boo hoo). And seeing as those products are mostly water, they don't usually hold very many surprises (not counting any surprises the processing of said beverages may create). But last time we went shopping, Mr. J bought the milk, and he does not pay attention to 1%, 2%, what-have-you. I think his criteria this time were price, recycle-ability of the container, and hormone-free/organic and all that. So we have this delicious full-fat yummy milk from a local dairy, provided in a fully-recyclable glass bottle. Joy!

However, the "expiration date" for said milk is 3/29, which is a full four days away (I believe those expiration dates as if they are set in stone and mandated by law). But today, when I went to make a tasty toasty Mexican-style hot cocoa, I noticed some scum on the side of the bottle. And when I poured the milk into the pot to heat it up, there was some slimy goo sitting on top. But it didn't smell bad, and I did not see any telltale clumps of badness. So I just stirred it up and attributed it all to the joys of minimally processed wholesome goodness. But now I'm admittedly a little hesitant to take that first sip. Already that hot cocoa slime is forming on the surface of my drink. Oh, the perils of modern life! What a dangerous life I lead!

********

On another note, it's a gorgeous spring day in Boise. A little smog has settled down here in the valley, but this morning's lovely 2-hour hike with friend Rhonda and the pooches got us up into the fresh air and out of the "fray" that is our little city on a Wednesday morning. I really need to remember how much I enjoy getting up early and moving and watching The Dog have such a blast (I love these "controlled off-leash trails" of ours). So assuming I don't die from some horrid milk disease, I'd say that this Hump Day is turning into quite the pleasant day (even if the rest of it will be spent here at this computer cleaning up a document on "very low-income loan obligations"...zzzzz).

Tales of the So-So Sewer

2010-03-21T16:27:00.000-07:00

So, I've proven myself somewhat adept at this knitting thing. I mean, I haven't yet made anything more complicated than a cap, a scarf, and right now, a blanket. But I haven't royally screwed up yet either, as I do with just about every other crafting endeavor I get it into my head to try (ask me someday about the sock log dog). And I've actually completed six or seven entire projects. If you knew anything about my childhood (which you probably don't), then you would know that I was the queen of beginning everything from hook rugs to those small wood ornaments in which you twirled wood (or maybe it was paper) around a toothpick and then glued coils of the wood/paper/whatever into crazy shapes. But whatever project I started, I would soon give up, and my ever-patient mom would either finish it or just toss it, depending on her mood.

Anyway, I think I got a little cocky with this knitting thing. It made me think that I was finally over my craft-ineptness. I became so cocky that I had a friend come over to teach me how to set up my sewing machine. We got it all threaded, etc., and before I knew it, I was stitching away on an old hand towel. It looked like I actually knew what I was doing. So much so that I believed it myself.

That lesson was three weeks ago. And now here I am, on a gloomy Sunday, thinking I can create curtains for our kitchen all by myself.

Problem 1: I really have no clue how to cut fabric properly, and I definitely do not have the correct tools to do so. So I am starting off with a crookedly cut hem. Is that bad?

Problem 2: Clever on that I am, I decided to do some practice runs on my practice towel in an attempt to learn how to do overlock stitchin and hemming. In the process, I mucked up the thread ... thrice. I ran out of bobbin thread. (Luckily I am a pro at loading a bobbin. If only all of sewing were as easy as that.) And I have yet to be able to figure out the correct bobbin and thread tension, which means my overlock stitches are all over the place in length and width ... but maybe they are supposed to be that way. I just don't know. Or maybe it's not a problem with the tension, and I just suck at sewing. Hmmmm, could be.

Problem 3: In an effort to see if I could figure out the whole tension thing, I started on yet another row of stitching on my practice fabric and promptly snapped the needle in two. Really.

So now I am done. I am throwing in the towel (literally). I am either going to send it all off to my mom with the measurements. (Times like these I definitely wish my mom lived around the corner instead of thousands of miles away.) Or, better yet, I'm just going to go out and buy some curtains, because this whole "let's save money by making our own" is definitely not working out.

Ugh.

Rambling

2010-03-13T08:53:00.000-08:00

Looking back over my previous post, I realize that my blog name is no misnomer. I can certainly ramble. I could have just as easily condensed my 7 facts about myself as follows:

I don't know or care (anymore) how people should pronounce my name.
I'm addicted to Big Fish Games' 60-minute free game trials.
I have no clue how to apply makeup and make it look good.
I can bring poor, unsuspecting women into the spell of my period hormones.
I am definitely not a scientist.
I love bacon.
And now that these are nice and short ... I'll add #7: I tend to ramble on at ridiculous lengths about nothing very interesting at all! (see below)

*******

We have a friend here in Boise who, I am learning each time I talk to him, knows just about everything about everything, but not in an annoying sort of way. Actually in a very fascinating way.

The latest tidbit came up as I was telling him how we had spread this horrible weed and feed stuff on our "lawn" in an effort to kill off the goatheads that were endemic to our yard when we moved in. According to Mr. Fascinating, goatheads are of a plant called Tribulus terrestris (which, to me, sounds even more evil than "goathead"). He went on to explain that it is a main ingredient in many of the muscle-builder powder stuff that people take to make themselves stronger. (Oh, the scientific explanation in that last sentence just proves Point #5 above!) Apparently this stuff goes for big bucks and is then ground up into a fine powder so that crazy people can ingest it. Just the thought of that makes my insides hurt, because in my mind, no matter how fine you grind that stuff, it's still horribly pokey evil that even in a microscopic form must still be pokey and ouchy. I mean it goes straight through tires without even a blink of its goathead eye, and it's just about the only thing that will stop The Dog in his tracks.

But, saying all that, apparently we could have just let this stuff grow and become bajillionaire goathead farmers. I wonder if that requires have a goat-herd?

Of course, this whole conversation led to hilarious talk about falling off our bikes into a pile of goatheads and coming up raving mad, a la the Incredible Hulk, or just taking the pointy ends of the goatheads and jabbing them in our arms to get a little extra juice. But, I guess you had to be there to really capture the hilarity of it all.

MIA, Awards, and All That Jazz

2010-03-09T09:46:00.000-08:00

My, oh my, where have I been? Well, I've been here, at my computer, but I've actually been working rather than procrastinating (I mean blogging) . . . for a change.

As I wrote whenever it was that I posted last, my blogger buddy over at Little Farm. Growing presented me with an award, and I am so, so honored. She is also one of my two, maybe three, readers, and I am ever-so grateful for that. Makes me feel not so alone in this big blogger world. (Come on, other readers. If you are out there, just sneak in a little comment. Even if it's just to say, "Wow, your blog is so boring." I need recognition.)

Anyway, part of this award dealie is that I have to list 7 little tidbits about myself. It's taken me more than a week, but I think I have come up with a few things. It's not as easy as it sounds!

My name is Tara. (Whew, that was a tough one to come up with.) Does that count as Fact #1? No? OK, I'll elaborate:
When I was 6 or 7, I was so incredibly shy, that people would ask my name, I'd whisper "Tara," and they would say, "Oh, hi Sara (Terri, Lara, or something similar). It's nice to meet you." I was so meek, I'd just let them call me what they wanted. In my teenage years, however, I became protective and assertive about my name. "It's Tara, as in terra firma. Not Tara, as in tar a roof. Got it?" Then college graduation came and I had to write my name phonetically so they would pronounce it correctly as I walked across the stage. Instead of writing the simple and straightforward "Terra," I wrote the more complicated "tear a, as in tear a piece of paper." But I guess they didn't have time to process all that, so they called me up by the name "tear (rhymes with near) a." I flinched, but whatever. Who pays attention to that in a class of 600. But now for the twist: When I related all this to my grandmother and mom (who both came up with my name way back when), my Nana said, "But not one of those is how you pronounce your name." I was completely dumbfounded. She corrected my 20 years of ignorance by saying, "It's taaara." There is no way to explain how this is pronounced except to say that my grandmother is from New Jersey. It's very nasal, and the a is neither short nor long; it's just New Jersey. For the longest time, I wasn't even able to replicate this sound. So, really, I was not capable of saying my name correctly. Then at 27, I met Mr. J, and to all his friends and family, I am Tara as in tar a roof, because he is South African/Australian/American, and though he can say "terra firma" and even "terror," he seems unable to say my name correctly. But he's got that cute accent and that nice smile, so I let him get away with it. So now I am back to my 6 year old self, responding to whatever it is you want to call me. (The rest of the facts will be much shorter ... promise.)
I am ridiculously addicted to the trial games over at BigFishGames.com. By all that is holy and good, do not follow this link. It's a huge time-suck (even if it's only for 60 minutes a day)!
Even though I am 40 years old, I have no clue how to apply make-up properly and instead usually end up looking like a man in very bad drag. (This inability of mine didn't used to be a problem, as I was one of those fresh-faced people who didn't need much makeup (though that didn't stop me from trying). Apparently, for me, all that changed once I hit the 4th decade. Joy.)
It seems that my hormones are so strong that any female friend I hang out with for a while who is not on some form of birth control will come under my spell and join my cycle. So watch out. (Apparently these same hormones are not strong enough to figure out how to make a kid. But that's OK. I'm over that now.)
I have a theory based on something I think I learned in science class. Apparently there is always the same amount of energy in the world (or is it matter? ... I think it's energy ... or maybe it's water). Anyway, it's something that is always constant, it's just not always in the same place or something. (I was such a good science student.) Anyway, my theory is that the weight of the world is always the same, and this includes the weight of people on the world. This theory is based on my oh-so-scientific evidence that whenever someone I know loses a bunch of weight, someone else (usually me) seems to gain it. I have since expanded this to a world view: The U.S. is ridiculously overweight, which is why there are so many starving people in places like Africa. So we all just need to reach a healthy weight, and that will miraculously balance out the weight elsewhere. (I'm really only half-serious here.)
My new favorite quote is from a TV ad for something or other: "Bacon makes everything taste better. Even bacon." Who knew you could get so much wisdom from a 30-second commercial?

I know, that wasn't 7 things, but the first was so long, I'm giving it double points.

Now for the fun part. Bloggers I follow, read, etc., to whom I am awarding the Beautiful Blog award (even if some of them do not know I exist):

The Creamery: I am proud to say that I am one of Whimsy's newer minions. Her writing is beautiful, her attitude toward life and all its creaminess is empowering, and she has a beautiful little Bean to read all about.
Crazy Aunt Purl: There are so many days when I just want to copy what she writes and post it as my own. Crazy Aunt Purl always puts a smile on my face, and with her new camera, her cat photos are even better than ever!
Right Turn at Albuquerque: Our good friends Jon and Val left the Bay Area to start a farm in Bosque Farms, New Mexico. In addition to being fabulous friends who (whom?) we miss dearly, they are incredibly talented, brave, creative, and fun.
No Telling: I haven't seen her on the Blog World lately (and I hope everything is OK over there ... I worry about my bloggers when they don't post for a while), but I love her notes on the fridge and updates about local news. And because of her, I started this blog, so you can either thank her profusely or just cry, "Whhhyyy?" Up to you.

OK, those are the main ones (the "award rules" say 15 blogs, but if I followed 15 blogs regularly, I would never have time for work ... let alone for my crazy Big Fish addiction). Speaking of work ... 6 p.m. deadline looming. Time to get back to it.

Blast from the Past

2010-02-26T09:57:00.000-08:00

Imagine my surprise yesterday when I did my morning blog check and saw that I had been given an award by my blog buddy (and only follower) over at Little Farm. Growing. I've been walking around the past 24 hours, trying to come up with 7 things about myself (really). Not as easy as it sounds. I mean I can't just say "I am in dire need of a haircut" and "My dog just ripped a ridiculously stinky fart." I don't think that's the kind of thing they had in mind.

So, while I come up with my list, I will leave you with this:

Yesterday, I was listening to Pandora.com while working and was surprised to hear a song from my dark, distant past. Yes, back in my teenage years, I was a big (HUGE, really) fan of Huey Lewis and the News. Hey, it was Back to the Future days; what can I say? (Full disclosure: By the time Back to the Future came out, I had been a fan since the early 1980s. I was so cool!) So while my friends were rocking out to John Cougar or the Pet Shop Boys, I was crooning along with Huey and the boys. But how did Pandora know that? I hadn't set up any stations based on dated 80s' music. The "station" it was playing on was the one I "seeded" with the likes of U2, Cake, Glen Hansard, Shawn Colvin, Lyle Lovett, and The Killers (among others). How does HLN fit in with that crowd? Is Pandora psychic or omniscient, looking deep into my mind to discover my hidden likes and dislikes?

In an attempt to solve this mystery, I clicked on the "why on earth was this song selected" button, and here's what it said:

Based on what you've told us so far, we're playing this track because it features electric rock instrumentation (OK), R&B influences (yes, good), a subtle use of vocal harmony (cool), major key tonality (um, huh?), and prominent organ (really?).

Apparently I am a fan of organ music. Who knew? (Well, apparently, Pandora knew.)

Stay tuned for my fascinating list of tidbits. I'm sure you are quaking with anticipation.

Out in the world

2010-02-24T18:54:00.000-08:00

I didn't quite make it to the Y last night. I was getting my stuff together and realized that my iPod wasn't charged, and I just don't work out well without my music (weak excuse, yes, but true). Then I rationalized that it was 4:30, which is the start of Crazy O'clock at the Y, and I just hate crowded gyms. So I did some measly leg lifts at home and then proceeded to knit while catching up on episodes of Chuck.

But today I ventured out into the great wide open ... twice, even! And here's what I learned.

I love a greasy spoon diner breakfast. I could eat bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, an English muffin, and never-ending cups of diner coffee every single morning, if my arteries would let me. Yes, this meal is so easy to make at home, but it's just so much more satisfying when bantering with a sassy waitress while sitting on red vinyl seats at a chipped Formica-topped table. Happiness is. (Plus, I don't have to do the cleaning up.)
When you leave your car windows open over night to air out the stench of strawberries that you accidentally left in the trunk the previous night and it then proceeds to rain, your seats will get wet. And even if you leave your car with the windows slightly cracked for the rest of the day (sans rain), the seats will stay wet, but you will forget. And then, when you drive to the Y, you may not feel the dampness at first. But when you get out of the car and feel that breeze on your tushie, you will know, for a fact, that the seats of your pants are soaked through. Nothing like working out on the elliptical with a soggy ass. Happiness is not.
I love my workout playlist on my iPod. It makes me so happy. It actually makes me enjoy standing still (well, not really still, but not really getting anywhere either) on the elliptical and even makes me push myself to workout harder. No small feat for this lazybutt. And today, you would think I had programmed it exactly to my workout, as the first song was the perfect kickoff (Us3's "Tukka Yoot's Riddim"--best rhythm ever for an elliptical) and the last song ("Sunday, Bloody Sunday") stopped exactly as my 30 minutes were up. Cool. [p.s. I ended up going to the Y at the height of Crazy O'clock today, so yesterday's excuse really wasn't valid, was it?]
All in all I have found the people of Boise to be exceedingly nice. Even the kids at Starbucks are devoid of the usual sneer. But today I ran into all of Boise's most inconsiderate men. At the Y, I held the door open for a family. The kid, who I presumed (assumed?) to be the son of the man behind him, smiled and said thanks. The sour-puss man, on the other hand, just breezed right by me; not even a smile. Then, after we both checked in, he literally pushed past me to get through the door and didn't even hold it open. Grrrr. I mean, I went to a liberal all girls (ahem, I mean all women's) college, and I'm all for women's rights and all that. But when I hold a door open for you, whether you are a man or a woman, I would at least like a "Thanks" and maybe a little eye contact and a smile. Major pet peeve; always has been and always will be. Then, at the grocery store, more men: one was a slight grocery cart bump as I came out of an aisle into the main aisle. I said, "oops, sorry," even though it was 50% his fault. And all I got was a sneer as he pushed past me. Then, on the way home, this car just sat in my blind spot all the way down 8th Street. Didn't he know I needed to move over? And even if he didn't (which he couldn't have, because I didn't turn on my blinker, because he was in the way and I knew I couldn't move over anyway, so why bother), doesn't he know it's just not safe to drive right alongside a person's rear bumper? I technically didn't know until he passed me whether he was male or female. But I knew. And I was right. Grrr.
I cannot wait for veggie-growing season so I can cut my grocery bill in half, as just about everything I bought today from the produce aisle will (hopefully) be growing this summer in our garden.

Now wasn't that exciting, and aren't you so glad I went out into the world so I could share all this with you?

Mystified

2010-02-23T14:58:00.000-08:00

Well, I had this whole conspiracy theory about Blogger's Next Blog button and was writing all about how I think Blogger is witnessing to me and trying to get me to go to church. But then when I clicked on Next Blog today, it completely debunked my very own theory. So that's now fun.

So, what shall I write about instead?

I think I need to get out of this house and experience the world a bit (or, if not the world, then at least the outdoors). My big outings this week included a night of wonderful food and fun and Wii playing on Saturday, a shopping spree at the yarn store (plus some fantastically inexpensive but cool house decorations from Savers ... I LOVE thrift stores), and a hike yesterday with Mr. J and The Dog (no owl sightings). My life is so full! Other than that, I have either been at this computer or in bed knitting (I don't really have a good spot to knit). My eyes are burning from staring at the computer screen, and if I start knitting now, I'll never leave the house (it's kind of an addiction).

So, I guess what I'm writing about is the fact that I am going to get up right now and leave this house. My exciting plans might include a trip to the Co-op to buy some kale for dinner or maybe even an excursion to the gym to work off my oh-so-healthy lunch of tortilla chips with salsa and homemade hummus (what? protein, veggies, is corn a grain? sounds like a super-duper nutritious meal to me).

Wow. Fascinating post, wasn't it? Tomorrow I promise something relatively interesting ... or at least not deathly boring.

Novice Knitter

2010-02-22T09:29:00.000-08:00

Last year, while living in Dallas, one of the hottest, most miserable places I've every lived, I decided to take up knitting. Because nothing makes you want to knit a big wool scarf like 100+ degree days and days and days! But I hardly knew anyone, we didn't have cable, and I needed something to keep me busy when I wasn't working or going to the gym or just sitting staring at the walls. Good times, for sure.

So I went to JoAnn's or Michael's or something, bought a book called I Can't Believe I'm Knitting, which I am still tempted to call I Can't Believe I'm Not Knitting (due, of course, to the non-butter product of the similar name), picked out some needles and yarn, and taught myself how to knit. I didn't have high hopes, as I am NOT a crafty, handy, artistic person. But every other year or so, I get an itch to create something by hand. Usually, those attempts end in half-completed disasters that I then pass on to my mom to "make it all better." But this time, I actually got it, much to Mr. J's amazement, who was incredibly cynical of the entire endeavor.

Here I am, more than a year later, with four scarves and two hats under my knitting belt. Not one of them turned out absolutely perfectly, but even I was able to agree that they looked pretty good. So good that I gave all but one of them away as gifts. Since Christmas, I haven't had a project or an idea or anything of what I wanted to make next. But then I saw this blanket and thought, "Wow," that would be perfect for our friend's new-ish baby. (I'm extremely slow on getting gifts to people in the appropriate amount of time, but if all goes well, it will be a great 6-month-old birthday gift).

So, I dragged my friend Miss Z to the knitting store with me to help pick out some yarn. The nice lady in the store pointed out a wall of yarn and said that each ball was $3.99, which sounded pretty darn reasonable. After about 15 minutes of fondling all the fantastic colors of soft, cuddly yarn, we picked four fantastic colors (which I never would have chosen on my own). Because the balls were smaller than what the instructions called for, I decided to get four each of four different colors. $65 was a much more than I expected to pay, but those colors were so worth it.

Then the other nice lady rang us up and said, "OK, that will be $115." I stood there with my jaw on the floor, thinking, "WHAT?!?!? How the *&$#% did that happen?" I was stunned. Thank goodness Miss Z was there and asked, "But I thought they were each $3.99." Oh, no, Dear. Apparently we moved one step too far to the right and ended up in the $6.99 section. So, back we went to the Wall o' Yarn to try to find something similar in the cheaper colors. And, of course, there was nothing that we liked. We did find some cool colors a few steps too far to the left, but apparently those balls were $9.99. Dang, after a year and a half of buying my yarn at JoAnn's, I have only now discovered how ridiculously expensive this little hobby of mine really is.

We tried and tried but just could not find anything we liked. So back to the cash register we went, where Miss Z was incredibly, incredibly kind and generous and offered to pay for half. So now we are both giving a gift to little Miss Sydney. And she better treasure this blanket for all the days of her life. And to think I took up knitting in part because I thought it would be so much cheaper to make things like sweaters and scarves and hats for myself. How very wrong I was!

Getting Back Into It

2010-02-19T12:05:00.000-08:00

So a couple weeks ago, a friend of mine was complaining of being sick and having no energy and just sleeping. And I thought, that sounds OK. I could use a few days of having a good excuse to just lie (lay? recline? laze?) about, maybe catch up on some reading, find a new knitting project, chill. But then I was reminded, by my very own cold, that being sick sucks. And when both the people in a relationship are sick, it's even suckier. Each one is begging the other to go find some drugs or make a pot of hot tea or cook up a big huge pot of chicken broth. And neither one wants to oblige, because both are too busy coughing and blowing noses and spitting up yellow goo. And I just felt too crappy to read or knit or anything. Even TV was too much. I just wanted to sleep, but the coughing and hacking kept getting in the way.

So, thanks, Life, for reminding me to be careful of what I wish for!

But I am better now. I still have some kind of goop in my lungs and my nose is still running like a faucet, but I don't feel crappy anymore. I just sound horrible. Mr. J, on the other hand ... when he gets sick, he makes a four-week production out of it. Right now we are on Week 2, which involves antibiotics, inhalers, decongestants and lots and lots of coughing. The kind of coughing that I think you might here coming out of the TB ward of an old-timey sanitarium. Poor guy. His entire face turns red and he just grabs his entire head with his hands because it hurts so bad.

I feel horrible for him, and yet I have discovered that I would be the world's worst nurse. I want to make him better but I can't, so I just get frustrated and impatient and then, when he looks at me all red-eyed and stuffy and miserable, I just roll my eyes. Oh, aren't I just the sweetest thing? How quickly I forget, after one day of feeling better, how bad it feels to feel so bad!!

But, on a lighter, happier, healthier note, the sun is finally peeking through the inversion layer that has clouded our fair city since Christmas. Yesterday afternoon I was even able to sit in my hammock swing on the front porch, sipping a cold brew, tossing a tennis ball for the pack of dogs we are watching over this weekend, and enjoying the sunshine in my face. I had forgotten how great a little warmth on the sun can feel! It looks like maybe we are in for the same treat this afternoon. And if so, I will send Mr. J into my hammock swing, with a cup of tea replacing that Corona, and have him absorb some healthy vitamin D. See ... I can be caring!

p.s. My Firefox crashed three times in the making of this post, requiring me to rewrite it several times. Grrrr. Macs are supposed to be perfect. What is up with that?

Sniffle

2010-02-16T16:08:00.000-08:00

I am here, I am alive. I'm just emerging from beneath stacks of used up tissues. Oh, how I love being sick. Ugh. And now Mr. J has it, and he's got it bad. Seems that whenever he gets sick, even if it's some kind of toe fungus, it eventually makes its way to his lungs and becomes some kind of infected bronchitis thing. So back on antibiotics he goes. At least this time he agreed to talk to our doctor friend about it sooner rather than later. He tends to think it will just get better, and it only gets worse. So here's hoping we caught it in time and that he'll be back to his chipper self in no time (because he is no fun when he is coughing up a lung all day long, let me tell you!).

So no new news to report. Just trying to clear my head (and this house) of the fog of sickness that has settled over it for the past week.

I Hate It When He's Right

2010-02-09T18:30:00.000-08:00

So this week my funk is being brought to me by the letters PMS. If it's not one thing, it's another, and yes I do blame my funks on hormones, even though Mr. J never totally believes me.

Anyway, as I was falling asleep in my grumpy mood, Mr. J was trying to convince me that I would feel a thousand times better if I made myself get out the next day and get the blood flowing. (Yes, he was also trying to convince me of other things that would make me feel better, but I am keeping this mostly G rated.) I grumbled and growled and essentially gave him the oh-so-grown-up reply of, "Why don't you go out and move around?" Sometimes it's a wonder he still loves me.

So today, after a rather productive day (in addition to plowing through a bunch of work, I also organized my closet and shelves and got through almost all the laundry), I could feel the wonders of hormones working their magic. The funk was returning. So I asked Mr. J if he wanted to go for a sunset walk with me and The Dog. But Mr. J is in the throes of rebooting his entire computer and cannot be torn away from it for a second. I almost bailed and said, in another very grown-up voice, "Well, fine, if you can't take the time, even though you are always telling me I should, then I'll just stay here and play computer games." So. There.

But I bit my tongue and took The Dog for a much-needed walk. It was just going to be up the hill and back. But then The Dog and I decided to continue the loop, even though I ran the risk of The Dog getting on the scent of some deer. (Thank goodness he didn't.) Then he and I decided to add onto the walk by doing the big slog up the steep hill to really get the cardio going. And we made it all the way to the top, even though I was mentally grumbling about my sore ankle, my drippy nose, my this, my that, wah wah wah, all the way to the top. Good thing I was on my own.

I stopped to huff and puff at the top of the hill just in time to catch the height of the sunset. The sunlight was glittering through between the distant Owyhee Mountains and the gray-black clouds of the inversion layer, casting all of downtown Boise in a peachy-orange, sparkly glow. Gorgeous. Almost gorgeous enough to put a smile on this cranky old face of mine.

Then, on the way back down the steep, steep hill, I heard some owls hooting. I stopped to look up, not really thinking I'd be lucky enough to spot them. But at the top of a big ol' pine tree right in front of me were two massive owls. (I say they were Great Horned Owls, and since no one was else was there, except for The Dog, who is in complete agreement with my assessment, then Great Horned Owls is what they were. So. There.) They were huge. And they had big-ish pointy ear things. And they were courting (or at least that is my scientific assessment of seeing one really big owl trying to land on another really big owl who has her tail feathers all up in the air). And it was so very cool. Then a dog barked, and what I'm guessing was the male owl (since he was the one trying to land on top of the other owl) flew away, right across the path in front of me. Did I mention they were HUGE owls? (In fact, at one point I was convinced they weren't owls, because I thought what I was seeing was this really long neck with a sort of flat head. But then I realized that was the girl owls' tail feathers, declaring, "Hey, dude, I'm ready!")

So, that actually put a smile on this old face of mine. Within sight of downtown Boise and less than a mile from my home, I got to witness a little bit of nature. And that's pretty dang cool. I just hope that boy owl knows not to get upset when the girl owl gets cranky and tries to push him away. Honey, it's just the hormones talking. Really.

Thoughtless Thursday

2010-02-04T09:21:00.001-08:00

I have had a serious beach craving for the past month. Not sure when it will get satisfied. So this will have to do for now.

Or, as my friend advises, I could just go to a local bar, put a pile of sand on the table, order a tropical drink (preferably served in a coconut and with an umbrella), and put some reggae on the jukebox. Sometimes on gray dreary days, you have to find your own way to paradise.

Life Lessons

2010-02-01T08:52:00.000-08:00

I moved my entire life. Being the daughter of an Air Force man, we up and moved every three years. Even in college, I got out in three years (those AP classes finally came in handy!). Then in my 20s, even though I stayed in the same state for an entire decade, I managed to move on an incredibly regular basis. By the time I reached 30, the longest I had ever lived anywhere were four fabulous years in my San Francisco studio apartment. Obviously, I'm just a rambling kind of person, in so many more ways than one.

So, you would think that I'd be a pro at moving, getting settled, making friends, and all that. But alas, no. I was a ridiculously shy and introverted child, which only got worse as I made it into my teenage years. I was the epitome of awkward ... scrawny, glasses, braces, bad haircuts, no sense of style. Oh, I was an amazing creature to behold. I did have friends--wonderful friends, in fact. I just tended to dwell on the fact that I didn't have more friends or the fact that the "popular" people didn't know me/like me/realize I existed. Oh, woe, the teenage angst.

Like most people who survived high school, however, I eventually came out of my shell and stayed out, for the most part. In fact, when I mention to others that I see myself as a shy person, they are usually shocked (though I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing). Anyway, I now have small groups of fabulous friends all over the continent, thanks to my roving, rambling days. And I married a man with the world's largest network of cool riverfolk friends. I couldn't have been luckier. So now our network is global. It's not like we are in touch with all these people, but I know that if we stumble into a town in some remote part of the world, there is a good chance that if we don't know somebody there, we do know somebody who knows somebody there.

So, yay for me. And yet, each time I move to a new town, I still struggle. I want to fit in. I want immediate friends. I crave that close group of girlfriends with whom you can share things and not worry about what is being said after you leave the room. I long for those nights of just sitting around for hours laughing over the silliest things. In trying to make new friends and to get everything that I want NOW, I find that I have been trying a little too hard and coming off a bit desperate. Add a couple glasses of wine to the mix, and you get my loud, obnoxious self making really odd or inappropriate comments. Lovely. So I needed a reminder to just chill, just be myself, let those who like me seek me out and don't try to be everyone's best chum. First, Mr. J pointed this out to me (though his timing was lousy, so it just turned into a big ol' pout-fest on my part until I could relax and realize that, once again, he was right).

Then today, I read Ms. Whimsy's 4 Laws of Cream (I've been stalking her blog for months now, and only just now found these wonderful words of wisdom; Law #2, in particular, rang especially true). And I said, to myself, Oh yea, I remember all this. Be who you are, enjoy life, laugh, smile, do the things you enjoy, and those with like minds/hearts will seek you out. Thank you for the much-needed reminder on that wonderful life lesson! I was seriously on the verge of becoming a big pile of sour cream, and it wasn't pretty! (Though I do like me some sour cream!)

Blog Envy

2010-01-29T16:59:00.000-08:00

A Few of My Morocco Memories:
poppy fields, a "grocery souk", heading off to the river, our campsite

Oh, my! A friend just forwarded this little treasure along, because another friend is thinking of going to Morocco as a side trip from Spain. I've been to Morocco and can.not. wait to go back! Someday. It's only been since the "war" officially began way back in ... 2003. In fact, we were there for pretty much the entire war, according to good ol' G.W. We left the U.S. just as it was all being launched, and when we returned, Bush was already making his splash landing on the airline cruiser thingie, pronouncing to the world that his mission was accomplished. Obviously he meant his mission to someday fly onto an aircraft carrier (there's the word I was looking for).

Anyway, this woman's blog brought back so many memories, and then I continued on to the rest of her blog and became incredibly envious. What a life! So for anyone who feels the need to live vicariously through another woman's wonderful travels, take a gander: On the Road with Grand Maruby

Thoughtless Thursday

2010-01-28T11:06:00.000-08:00

I thought it was Wordless Wednesday, but somehow I missed Wednesday (where did it go?). So instead I am instituting Thoughtless Thursday. Nothing really to say, so we'll let the pictures do the talking.

Here's what I am craving:

Two Posts in One Day?!

2010-01-26T21:22:00.000-08:00

So, I often sit and ponder why I can't seem to drop these annoying 30 pounds that seem to have glommed onto me (through no fault of my own, of course) over the past 5 years. (And it has nothing to do with the fact that I do sit and ponder these things rather than getting out there and moving.)

Let me tell you about my day to see if you can help me figure this out:

First, all I had for breakfast was a watered-down smoothie--I only had a smoothie because we are pretty much out of food (I didn't make it to the grocery store yesterday), and it was watered down because our blender sucks and requires much too high of a liquid-to-solid ratio to make anything blend. But that's OK. I'm trying to be virtuous and good, and I can survive one morning on a watered-down smoothie.

Then Mr. J called from his business meeting to see if I wanted him to bring home a latte from the coffee shop. Now, a latte isn't that bad in and of itself, though I know he had it made with whole milk, because skim milk just isn't in his vocabulary. And I didn't add sugar. So that's all something. But I am trying to cut back on the caffeine. And yet after a week of herbal tea and water with lemon and honey, that latte was de.lish.ous! So I am not going to beat myself up about that.

Then, after a couple hours of work, I had to run some errands (including a much-needed grocery run). So I started off at Bed Bath and Beyond, where I had to return some stuff and then of course buy some stuff, And all this took way too long, so that I was starving by the time I was finally heading to the grocery store. And we all know that going to the grocery store on an empty stomach is bad news. (For me, this is not only because I will splurge on all the horribly bad stuff, but also because our local grocery store is a madhouse and I tend to get incredibly snarky and snappy at the people who just STOP in front of me or completely block the aisle as they analyze the contents and prices of every. damn. can on the shelf. Grrr.) Anyway, I knew this was all a very serious possibility, so I decided to stave off the snarkiness by stuffing my face with Arby's (I know ... gross). As I pulled up to the drive-through, I had every intention of just getting one measly little roast beef sandwich and maybe an unsweetened iced tea. Definitely no fries. But then I remembered about their curly fries. And then I saw roast beef with cheddar, which sounded weirdly appetizing. And then I saw the Dr Pepper, which I love, even though it leaves a really weird aftertaste in my mouth. So I totally caved and got a "roast beef" sandwich, curly fries, and a Dr Pepper. The sandwich was pathetic, and the cheddar wasn't even cheddar cheese; just some of that weird nacho cheese spread stuff (which I secretly like, but still, it's just not right). Of course I ate it all anyway. The curly fries were crisp and hot and yummy, even though I know that if I dropped one under my carseat (which I probably did) it would still be there, perfectly in tact, 5 years from now. And the Dr Pepper was ... Dr Pepper. The good news was that I was no longer hungry by the time I hit the grocery store. The bad news was that I ate at America's Roast Beef, Yes Sir.

My only redeeming grace of the day is that I spent a whopping $150 on veggies and fruit. So at least I know that in the coming days, I will be virtuous.

But wait, there's more. Tonight, I was invited to help a friend finish up her quilt (don't be impressed by me; all I did was stick in some pins and then help hold it all together while she ran it through the sewing machine; she, on the other hand, is a sewing queen). Then all the people who came to help were rewarded with an amazingly delicious dinner with appetizers, wine, yummmmmy food, AND a fabulous dessert. If I had known all this, I might have refrained from the absolutely disgusting Arby's lunch so then I wouldn't feel so bad. No, that's a lie. I knew there was going to be good food. I just didn't realize it would be so much and so good and so wonderful. Silly me. Don't get me wrong--I don't feel bad that I ate great food with wonderful new friends and lots of laughter. I do feel bad that I preceded that with my grease bomb of a lunch (which did come back to haunt me about halfway through dinner ... thank goodness for bathroom fans). And I really feel bad that I slept in this morning rather than squeezing in some kind of physical activity to relieve this haggard body of some of the pounds I keep adding on to it.

But tomorrow is another day, and now my fridge is stocked with all the makings of healthy, healthy food. And our next shin-dig isn't until next Tuesday (a whole week away), when we are having people over for our first "party" ... a Groundhog Day chili fest, where I have already found out that one of our other amazingly-good-cook friends is bringing jalapeno-cheddar-bacon cornbread. So ... where DO those pounds keep coming from??

Feeling Better

2010-01-26T09:07:00.001-08:00

Ahh, mood swings. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Oh, that's right. I don't love thee.

The funk has moved on, though the drizzling rain is still here. Not complaining about that, though. Our seven new trees need the water, and the outdoor dismalness is forcing me to stay inside and work, rather than wandering around downtown window shopping or some such thing.

So before the next funk moves in, it's time for a list of things that make me happy, mainly because I really don't have much else to say, but also because I have been seriously absent from the whole blog world lately and need to get the bloggie juices rolling again. And also ... next time that swing is one its way down, maybe I'll remember to cruise back in time to read this happy little list.

My Happy List
Dollar Taco Thursdays
Two-Dollar Fish Taco Fridays
Fresh eggs from our neighbor's chickens
Finding a steal at the thrift store
Eucerin lotion
Mom's margaritas
Mom's lasagna
Mom's spaghetti sauce
Mom's bloody marys
Oh, and of course, Mom
And Dad
And the whole rest of my immediate family
Chips and salsa and guac (it's been so long, my mouth is watering at the thought of it)
The Japanese maple outside my office window
My hydrangea tree (can't wait to see it bloom)
Mr. J's morning tea
Sushi (though I seriously suffer from overfishing guilt whenever I indulge)
Netflix and Hulu
Reading
Knitting
Being somewhat steadily employed
Cooking
Ripe, juicy melons (and yes, I mean the fruit ... get your mind out of the gutter!)
Mr. J (even when he doesn't hang the towel after showering)
Flannel sheets
River trips with good friends
Camping with good friends
Good friends
Traveling
Fresh fruit and veggies
Sweet potato fries
That salami we had in France with that cheese we had in France on that bread we had in France
OK, let's just say it ... good food of any kind makes me happy
And last but not least ...

The Dog sleeping in the sun (even if that nap happens to be on my new flannel sheets)

Rainy Days and Fridays

2010-01-22T19:23:00.000-08:00

So, I had this whole long, maudlin sad post ready to go. But I just can't bring myself to post it. My life's woes are seriously not serious enough in this day and age. Devastation in Haiti, ridiculous rulings by our lost-in-time Supreme Court, crazy local legislation here in Boise (and in Greeley, CO ... I'd be lost without my neighborhood chickens!!). The life and times of one Ms. Tara and her family are not that bad. I just hope the world survives long enough for us to sort out our piddly problems and to claw our way out of our financial woes.

Obviously there is a glass of red on my left, fueling on my funk. I think it's time to get up and knit or be productive or at least figure out what I'm wearing to tomorrow night's Naughty School Girl Party. I mean, how bad can life be when those are my major priorities? Really ...

Eight Years Today

2010-01-18T17:28:00.000-08:00

I love this picture. I think that it expresses everything wonderful about our marriage, and everything about Mr. J that is so great. I mean, look at that smile of his. Doesn't it just make you want to go out and have fun and love life?

Life is never perfect every second of every day, and there are so many little bumps along the way. But I am so thankful for those little moments of perfectness and so glad that I am sharing the ride, bumps and all, with this man that I love (even when he doesn't hang the towels after he showers).

Whew!

2010-01-12T14:10:00.000-08:00

OK, so maybe this prayer/positive thought thing is good. First of all, the plane obviously did land safely and we didn't get knocked down out of the sky by the moderate turbulence (which, in my mind, was the worst. turbulence. ever). Second, a check arrived today from Mr. J's old (current?) business partner. Hooray. We won't be digging into our credit line to pay estimated taxes. Hallelujah. We aren't out of the hole yet, but every little bit helps. Thank you former/current/whatever Mr. Business Partner. Third, my mom's MRI came back completely blank (as my mom says, her head is empty). So we are hoping it's just an infection that the steroids will eventually clear up. And we are really, really hoping that the hearing comes back (though I did say in my little offering to whoever is out there that I was negotiable on that; of course, I didn't check with my mom on that point).

Mr. J always wonders why I get so worried, nervous, neurotic about things like this, because for my family, things almost always work out well. But even just typing that line makes me worried that I just jinxed us forever. Not that he's belittling what could have been a bad situation, but he has such a better attitude. He knows it is out of his control (well, except for the money thing), so he just has the whole wait-and-see attitude and only gets excited, nervous, anxious when the the final diagnosis, whatever, is there in front of him. Actually, even then, he stays calm and approaches it from a "what can we do to fix this" standpoint. Easy for him to say! But he's right, my family is ridiculously healthy. I mean, my 90-year-old Nana just got a cochlear implant. Two days after the surgery, she was doing laundry and cooking up homemade mac and cheese for my aunt. I don't even have that kind of stamina, and I'm (barely) more than half her age.

So, for now, all's well that ends well. As for me, maybe I should start sending some positive vibes to my work attitude, because I really need to get busy and S-T-O-P procrastinating. Really. (And ignore that package of yarn that just arrived yesterday. Really. Focus.)

Dear ... Someone ... It's Me, Tara!

2010-01-11T10:13:00.000-08:00

So, who do you pray to when you aren't sure that you believe in God? Lately I've found myself with the need to ask someone out there for help.

First it was the bumpy flight back home. (Have I mentioned I really do not enjoy flying anymore? Could it be all those falling-from-the-sky dreams? Hmmmm, could be.) Then it was a general anxiety about life and Mr. J's unemployment and stress about money.

Now it's more important (and more realistic) than any of that. A week ago my wonderful mom shook her head, got an instant headache, heard a weird whooshing in her ears, and now, suddenly, has 50% hearing loss in both ears. Just like that. So we are waiting (anxiously) for the MRI results. (Why does it take so long? Why isn't it like on House where they just look at the screen and, boom, there's the answer? OK, so maybe it's more like, they look at the screen, come up with an answer, that answer is wrong, come up with another answer, that answer seems to be right, everything is hunkey-dorey, the patient is healthy, and then boom, a new symptom appears, the person almost dies, and then, at the last minute, House saves the person. And there you have a synopsis of every episode of House ever, and yet I continue to watch it each week.)

I, of course, am a wannabe hypochondriac and the ultimate drama queen. So my first instinct is, Oh my god, it's a tumor. Or an aneurysm. Either way, bad news, and get it taken care of NOW. I mean what else would explain that sudden loss, just like that? I have resisted the urge to Google the symptoms to diagnose it myself, something I am usually too eager to do. I'm just biding my time, hoping and praying ... to ... I don't know who/what/where that she is healthy and out of pain and able to hear again soon.

Note that when I do try to pray or beg or whatever it is that I'm doing, I am super careful to be ultra-specific in what I want. First I asked that she be out of pain. But then I realized that, yes, death would lead to a lack of pain. So, no, that's not what I was asking for. So, now I've added on, out of pain, alive, healthy, and hopefully with her hearing (such as it was) regained. But I worry ... am I leaving something out? Did I word it wrong? I don't know why I stress about these things. If I don't necessarily believe in an all-knowing God, then why I am so worried about what I'm asking him/her/it for? Well, I am superstitious that way. So maybe that's it.

Saying all that, I do believe in the power of positive thinking/prayer/healing vibes. I'm just having a hard time making all my thoughts/prayers/whatever positive. My brain tends to immediately start worrying and thinking the worst. And then I worry that I'm projecting that negativity out there into the world, instead of the happy, healing thoughts that I want to send to my mom.

So, here is my prayer for my mom: Please help the docs figure out what is wrong with her ears. Please help keep her sane during her time in silence (even the radio is too much for her right now, and she loves music). Please let this be something that once they figure it out, they can make it better. Please make the pain go away while also keeping her alive and healthy. Please don't let her lose her hearing (though I'm willing to bargain on that one if she comes out of this healthy, with no tumors or blood clots or anything like that). In other words, please help. Amen.

Sad Day

2010-01-06T08:04:00.000-08:00

As I sit here writing on this appropriately gray, dreary day, I'm listening to murder and mayhem outside my front window. I have my red curtains closed, but they are kind of sheer, so it gives the whole event an even more macabre feel.

The tree guys are here. Our one big tree, which in the summer shades our upstairs as well as our entire backyard (once the sun starts its descent), is being taken down. Yes, I know it is (allegedly) more than two-thirds rotten inside. Yes, I know it is leaning precariously over our upstairs bedroom. Yes, I know that silver maples are not really a pretty tree, at least in terms of fall color. Yes, I know we are getting three (very small) trees in its place ... someday. But, it's still a living (barely) tree that has been here probably more than 50 years (how long does it take a silver maple to grow to be over 50 feet tall?). Not to mention the fact that all fall I've been watching a family of squirrels scurry around and stock their home with all sorts of goodies. And that home just happens to be in the big silver maple (OK, so those squirrels probably contributed to its downfall, as their home is in the huge knot on the side of the tree. But still.)

And on top of all that, I know I will eventually be reprimanded by the batty woman who scolded me a month ago when she heard that the tree was slated to come down. Even though I told her that we are planting three trees in its place. Even though I know that since we moved in this past August, we have planted seven trees. She still scolded me. Like it was my fault the tree was dead. She is probably also one of those people who want to protect all the prairie dogs, even though they breed so fast and have so few natural predators, that in two years' time they were able to turn a field of tall grasses into a barren dust bowl.

Oops, how'd I get off on that tangent?

So I'm giving a little offering of thanks to our silver maple. We've only enjoyed its shade for 4 months, but we will miss it. (Though, admittedly, I won't be missing all the dead branches it dropped in our yard.) So long, tree! I hope you come back in your next life as a long-lived (male) ginkgo!

Bop-a-Mole

2010-01-05T08:44:00.000-08:00

In all the excitement that were the holidays (and the holidays were very nice, I might add), I have neglected my little blog. Poor blog. I'm sorry! But the nice thing was that I pretty much neglected all things computer and email related for at least a week. Ahhh, heaven. Of course, I kept tabs on it all with my Blackberry, but say what you will about Crackberries, they do keep me from being tied to my computer every damn day.

When last I wrote (before the whole Clean thing), I had just had my icky mole scraped out (blech), leaving me with an almost-2-inch, stitched-up, bandaged-over hole smack dab in the middle of my neck. When the bandages weren't on, and if you didn't look too closely, the row of stitches looked something like a gang tattoo written in some kind of ancient Chinese type. Either way, very attractive, and not exactly they look I was going for when I picked out the cute little scoop-neck sweater for the holidays. But, in the grand scheme of things, all was good.

I was, however, more anxious about the biopsy results. It took them a week to gt back to me, and after I few rounds of phone tag, I finally got in touch with the PA at the dermatologist's office. Here's the main part of the conversation:

PA Dude: We got the results.
Me: Oh, good?
PA Dude: Yes, and the good news is that we got it all out and the margins were negative. [Whatever the heck that means.]
Me: OK. And ...? [waiting for the bad news]
PA Dude: And ... Well, you have a follow-up appointment scheduled, right?
Me: Yes. And ...? [are they really going to make me wait until the follow-up to tell me the bad news]
PA Dude: Well, good. We will see you then.
Me: OK. But wait. Was it all good news, then?
PA Dude: Yeah. [not even a hesitation, like of course I should know this]
Me: Oh. Whew. Good. [Mentally screaming at him that he really needs to brush up on his "phoneside" manners and perhaps rethink the way he words things.]
Click.

So, very long story longer, I am fine. The mole is gone. However, I have to keep an eye on it for the rest of my life, as it is the aggressive (but localized) kind that can come back. And if this means another surgery on my trachea in the same spot, I am not going to be a happy camper!

And don't even get me started on the squeamish that was the removal of the stitches on Christmas morning. All I can say about that is thank God for the super-strong Bloody Mary my mom concocted for me.

Clean in 2010?

2010-01-03T07:45:00.000-08:00

Holy moly, 2010?!? How did that happen. I remember when it was just a very-belated sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey. And now here we are.

I haven't made any official resolutions, but after packing on 5 pounds in 10 days, I'm ready to cut out all junk for a while. Mr. J and I are somewhat committed to trying the Clean program by Alejandro Junger. I have the grocery list all set. We'll see how it goes. The hardest part is that we are just too social (oh, boo hoo, poor us). But seriously, we are surrounded by people who are fab.u.lous cooks. And while we wait for dinner to cook, we all sit around nibbling on whatever fantastic cheese or snacks while sipping (oh, OK, more like guzzling) really good wine.

So as I said, we'll see how it goes. I believe that as long as we are eating better at home, we cannot deprive ourselves when out on the town. We just need to make sure that we are eating more at home than we are at the homes of our friends. (Note: I was going to say "we can indulge" or "we can spoil ourselves," but "not depriving ourselves" sounds so much more virtuous, doesn't it?

We also have sworn and double-dog promised to get moving more. In our absence, The Dog has been getting 2 walks a day. So he's going to be giving us the puppy-dog eye treatment. Now we just have to not ignore him and get up and move, even if it's just a walk to the park so he can chase squirrels.

So, no real resolutions. More like affirmations, a la Stuart Smalley. I am good enough, I am smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!

Pseudo-Stream of Consciousness and My Squemish Cells

2009-12-17T14:11:00.001-08:00

The other day, I went in for the big removal of the ugly wartlike bump on my neck. Yay! Well, not really "yay!" because I don't like having people poking around my trachea (or is that my esophagus?) Either way, I have serious gag reflex issues, even if it's just someone touching my throat. (My theory: I was strangled or hung or both in a past life. Then, because I like cats, I decided that I was a cat who was strangled or hung or both in a past life. Yes, I am one odd duck ... or cat.) Anyway, "yay!" as in get this thing off me so it doesn't spread and become something horribly worse (i.e., one of my worst nightmares, which, surprisingly, is not about being strangled or hung or both).

This bump o' mine was smack dab in the middle of my neck, right where an Adam's apple would be if I had an Adam's apple. (Girls don't have those, right? Weird memory flash: When I was in junior high, I was kind of obsessed with Adam's apples and thought they were so sexy, and I wondered why I didn't have one, because if they were sexy on guys, wouldn't they be just as sexy on girls? I was such an odd child. The guy who triggered the whole Adam's apple fetish was the big brother in ET, who I thought was sooooo cute back in the day. Apparently I had a thing for scrawny guys with crooked teeth.)

Anyway, cutting this sucker out required all sorts of poking and prodding and drawing and digging and scraping and sewing, all on that ultra-sensitive area of my throat. Blech, ick, ew. I'm so glad I didn't throw up all over everyone. I kept trying not to think about what was happening right under my nose, but then one or the other of them (the doc or the assistant dude) would ask me a question. As soon as I talked, the muscles right under where they were working would move, and then I'd be aware that while I was talking and he was talking, my neck was open and he was in there scraping all around. Gross ... and kind of ouch!

And what were we talking about? Well, after confirming that I was OK and that I was fine with listening to Rush (not really, but it was better than bad Christmas music), the conversation moved on to U2, then Celine Deon and REO Speedwagon (what a weird playlist they had), and then somehow morphed into a discussion of the war in Afghanistan and Obama's Nobel Peace Prize and circled right back to U2, with the doc concluding that Bono should have got the Peace Prize instead. Whether I agree or not (and I pretty much do, and not cuz I love U2), who really cares? I mean, who has these sorts of conversations during a doctor's appointment?

Apparently I do! I still remember the pap smear appointment where the doc lady and her assistant gal were discussing lobster and steamed clams (really?!?), all while poking around in my nether regions. Then there was the time I was doing the whole IVF thing, and the doc and Mr. J were discussing Mr. J's clothing line and the fact that the doc knew a venture capitalist who might like to invest in it all. The investing never panned out AND the doc totally poked the very back of my uterus (ouch!) because she obviously wasn't paying attention to me. And this could possibly be one of the many reasons we don't have kids today (though that is a whole different discussion).

I am happy to report that according to Mr. J, the stitches all look nice and neat and clean, and according to the Doc, he got it all out (just waiting for the latest biopsy). So I'm healthy and happy, though not thrilled at all that every Christmas photo this year will feature me looking like F. Murray Abraham after the (fictional) throat slashing in Amadeus.

OK, so maybe not this old and wrinkled;

p.s. this was a great scene in the movie, if it's the one I'm thinking of

Squeamish Cell Carcinoma

2009-12-15T08:48:00.000-08:00

So, I had a mole removed last week. Actually, they weren't sure if it was a mole or a wart or an infected whitehead or what. So they scraped it off and sent it off for a biopsy, and that was that. Or so I thought!

Isn't it nice to be woken up first thing on a Monday morning with a call from your dermatologist telling you that the mole was indeed a mole and it was squamous cell carcinoma. I took it all pretty well. I am usually the one telling others that the two most common types of skin cancer really aren't that bad, as long as you catch them in time. It's the scary moles or scrapes that show up on your toe or your buttcrack or your armpit that (in my vast medicinal knowledge) are the scary ones. The horrible, terrible, very bad, no good malignant melanoma. So yesterday I was fine.

But this morning I woke up with every worst-case scenario running through my head while I overanalyzed every lump, bump, and scrape on my body. So thank God the appointment is in two hours, so I can ask all my questions, and they can reassure me and tell me that everything is going to be OK.

Until them, wonderful Mr. J is taking me out for breakfast and then to Home Depot (ain't he sweet) to keep my mind off things. And right now he is on the phone planning a possible trip down the Grand Canyon next summer! And if we get that trip (which would be awesome), I will be packing my entire dry bag full of sunscreen.

High on Life

2009-12-09T19:02:00.000-08:00

Well, OK, so I'm really high on B.I.N. shellac-based primer. But I'll take what I can get. Actually, we are going to be escaping the overly stench-a-cious place that is our home by checking out a friend of a friend who is performing with his fellow jazz-band members at the local steakhouse/bar. It sounds great, but at this point, anything that gets me out of this overly heated house that smells like about a million Dry-Erase markers sounds good.

The label on the paint can was extremely helpful, by the way. Something to the effect of "Use in a well-ventilated space with as many windows open as possible. The fumes should be no worse than if you were painting outside." Well, when it's 14 degrees outside and dropping fast, I can tell you that the windows and doors did not stay open long. However, we did open them for short bursts. Just to try to clear our vision! Oy!

But the floors are going to look so much better than the manky, munky, ucky cat-pee-stained carpet that was there. Even if we didn't sand it all down properly and you can see a faint outline of Mr. J's sneaker in one spot. I'll take that any day.

I have a whole list of fascinating, interesting topics for this blog o' mine. But this is all I have time for today. And it's also about all the few remaining brain cells in my skull can handle. Here's some pictures worth a thousand words (or maybe about 100) to fill in the blanks.

Before

During

Camera battery is dead, so no photos of the paint fumed floors.

P.S. I realize that the during photo is a thousand times worse than the before photo, but photos just do not capture the remaining 900 words, which would all describe the horrible stench of cat piss that those two layers of carpet and one stubborn layer of linoleum contained.
P.P.S I just reread this, and wow is this all over the place. I am blaming all the empty spaces in my narrative on chemical-induced brain-dead-ness.

Intimidation

2009-12-03T12:30:00.001-08:00

So I spend my procrastinating hours blog-hopping. My, oh my, are there some fabulous bloggers out there. Witty, funny, smart, insightful, a joy to read (is that even a word?).* And I think that is why I have been so quiet here. That and the fact that now that I have an audience (of 1), I feel the need to write something a little more meaningful than my usual whiney-ness. Well, all that AND the fact that I have spent the last couple weeks essentially chained to my desk or cooking or walking the dogs. Nothing earth-shattering. I don't even have great stories about appliance mass suicide and the good things that come from that. :-)

Maybe (most likely) it's that perfectionist in me who wants everything to be amazing, world-wise, hilarious, thought-provoking, maybe even poignant. All at the same time. Every time. All the time. I don't know why I expect this when I'm not that way in real life. Every now and then I'm one of those things for a few minutes. Sometimes even for a whole afternoon! (though I don't think I'm ever poignant)

So, how do I let go and write? Pretend like no one is reading and just say what I want to say? Get some get-started prompts from some how-to-write book or website? Or just take a few minutes out of the day to actually think about things, look around, observe, witness, reflect, and see what I see?

Anyway, subject change (to prevent this from becoming too whiney): Can I just say how incredibly excited I am to be going "home" for the holidays? I cannot wait to see my three little nieces, my cousins, my folks, my sister, my Nana. Well, OK, everyone!! I am not in the Christmas spirit AT ALL yet. Every time I hear a Christmas song on the radio, I scream in aggravation (really) and then have this near-violent knee-jerk reaction to change the station. Mr. J finds it all very hilarious, as he doesn't really pay attention and probably doesn't realize half the songs are carols, as they are being sung by Sheryl Crow or some such thing. Perhaps if they hadn't started playing these songs before Thanksgiving, I'd be a little more forgiving. Perhaps. But I do love Christmas time, and I am very excited for it all. I am hoping for snow and walks in the snow and maybe getting to the lake, only to find it frozen over with that perfect-for-ice-skating glasslike ice (not that that has happened for years). But even if it's 70 degrees and sunshiney, I can't wait. I love Boise, but I miss my family. Why can't they all just pack up and move out here?

OK, enough procrastinating. Fa la la la la.

*Disclaimer: Each of these blogs is all the words mentioned; I did not categorize them according to an overriding characteristic. Just seemed like a fun way to give a shout out to a few of the fabulous women out there who are entertaining me these days.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T09:45:00.001-08:00

Turkey from Thanksgiving Past (2007)

So much to be thankful for. Here's just a few: The Dog, our families, our good health, the good health of our families, our home, living in Boise and not in Dallas, our friends near and far, steady work, good food, fuzzy slippers, a sunny day, snow on the way, our memories, eyes to read with, ears to hear with, mouth to laugh with, heart to love with, nose to smell all the wonderful smells (not counting Mr. J's sweaty running clothes on the laundry room floor), fresh-squeezed grapefruit-orange juice, Mom's Christmas cookies delivered on my birthday, our beautiful nieces and nephews who I miss so much, our friend on the road to recovery from his horrific motorbike accident, The Dog's squeaky toy, my red curtains, raw cookie dough (even though I know it's sooo bad), Netflix and Hulu for those nights when we just want to veg, learning to knit, my cold sore finally going away, the places I've been, the places I've yet to go, my teachers and mentors, and most of all Mr. J. He is truly the best, even when he's at his most aggravating!

Prepping

2009-11-25T08:29:00.000-08:00

I actually don't have that much prepping to do at all. My sole contributions to tomorrow's big feast are a big vat of garlic mashed potatoes and some onion confit (a.k.a. caramelized onions) in place of cranberry sauce. I'm also throwing in a batch of chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, just cuz. We did the shopping last night. Tonight we cook. And tomorrow we just reheat everything once we arrive at H's parents' house. Easy Peasy!

But it's this holiday and the next that always make me a little homesick, especially as my folks came out for a couple very memorable, very tasty Turkey Days down in Denver. Planning the menu, organizing the house so we could fit all 20 people, doing the shopping, preparing the food, all over glasses of wine (well except maybe for the shopping) and lots of laughter. Good times, indeed. But this is our first Thanksgiving here, and we are just establishing our connections. Our roots are very shallow. If I think back to our first Thanksgiving in Denver, I can remember our roots were just as shallow. I just didn't realize it. It was just us and two friends, who flew out from California, loaded down with a huge shopping bag of goodies from Trader Joe's (oh, how I miss them!--the friends and Trader Joe's). I don't even know if we made a turkey or what we ate. But I still remember the laughter and the good times. And I know that no matter what, we will always have that, no matter where we are. And I am eternally thankful for that.

Email from My Momma

2009-11-21T15:31:00.000-08:00

I received an email from my mom today that I think is a prime candidate for Postcards from Yo Momma, but I'm going to keep it here on my little site rather than sending it out there for the "world" to read. It just cracks me up, so I want to record it for posterity, so I can come back for a smile and a laugh whenever I like:

Hi – Just talked with a man at church today who was talking about his birthday on Friday. Turns out he also turned 40. He has a wife, 5 kids, house and job. I was a little surprised when I found out his age but then when I looked at him, I thought yeah, I guess so. He is overweight so he looked a lot older than you but looking at his face, it was younger than I thought! Anyway, when he found out you were a day older than him, he wanted your email so he could get advice on “what’s next” from an older person. He really does have a good sense of humor but maybe you aren’t ready for that kind of humor quite yet! :) I’m glad you had a good birthday. I want the recipe for all the lamb dishes but especially for the drink! Nana needs a new drink! Well, I’ve got to take a shower and get ready to go to a friend’s house for dinner. What are doing for Thanksgiving? Do you have to make anything and are you going to share the recipe? I’m still undecided about the stuffing recipe. I don’t stuff the bird with it but I need a recipe. Any ideas? Oh yeah, Denise’s refrigerator died Friday and Jon went out and bought a Toshiba one today. They knew a year ago it was going, so they were shopping for types and brands. Made the day easier. Anyway, it seems he got a good deal and it should all be installed by Wednesday. Dad’s hard cast is on and he is going gang busters. Went to work right after the cast was put on, went food shopping with me that night, went to church and stood around and talked with people as they raked leaves and now is going out to dinner tonight. He offered to make the baked beans I am bringing but I said, it was ok – I’ll do it. As you can see, we too are a little busy. Have fun. Love, MOM

Yesterday

2009-11-18T14:18:00.000-08:00

Little thoughts came to me yesterday (actually, it's today, but I'm not going to post it until tomorrow, so that makes today yesterday). Anyway, here are some of those thoughts:

--OW! On Monday, I went to my first "real" workout class in ages (real meaning there were actual weights and lunges and squats and even push-ups?!?! involved). And each day since then I've been moving more and more like a pregnant cowboy (though maybe that should be cowgirl) (man, do I love parentheses or what?). I can't seem to get up off our low-slung couch or up out of my itty-bitty Honda without bracing myself and sort of pushing my hips up with my butt, so that I don't actually have to engage my aching quads, which feel as if someone has beat them to a pulp with a bag of oranges. So there's the pregnant part. And then when I try to walk, I sort of swing my legs out to the side, instead of bending at the knees, to once again avoid using my poor, poor quads. Thus the cowboy. Add this to my swollen cold sore lip, and I am one hot about-to-be-40-year-old. Watch out world!

--It is now today, which yesterday would have been tomorrow. I had other little thoughts, but never got around to writing about them. So I'll just say that Today is here, and I am 40, and I feel no older than I did yesterday. However, it seems that I suddenly know everything, or so I profess to Mr. J, as I expounded on all things philosophical and psychological and political over breakfast. After listening to NPR and solving the world's problem with one pithy statement, I proclaimed, "I know everything!" After analyzing our sister-in-law and discerning the reasons for her lack of child-rearing skills, I knew I was right about it all, because "I know everything." Mr. J's reply after each of my oh-so-modest proclamations was, "And you didn't even stay in a Holiday Inn Express." GIGGLE! And now I'm off to enjoy my day, which I know will be splendiforous, because I obviously know everything.

When You're Smiling

2009-11-18T10:40:00.000-08:00

The only reasons for today's title are (1) I could not come up with anything clever or witty, and (2) I'm listening to Pandora, and right now it's Louis Armstrong singing/playing what seems like a very melancholy version of that song. And this sort of suits me right now. I'm in a good mood all in all, and I want to smile. But yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I was afflicted with the mother of all cold sores. Came out of nowhere and has now given me a big ol' fat lip, with all of the grossness of a cold sore and none of the sexiness of big puffy lips. Joy. So, not only does it make me grumpy, but it also hurts to smile. Boo. And tomorrow is the big 4-0 for me. I have anticipated this milestone for years. When I hit 33 or so, I finally understood Meg Ryan's lament in When Harry Met Sally: "I'm gonna be forty.... Someday!!" (I honestly did not understand that line when I first saw the movie in my 20s). And that someday is here. And of all the horrors I imagined (none of which have come true, by the way; no horrors--just sore knees, an achy lower back, and slowly deteriorating eyesight), I did not imagine entering my fourth decade with a whopping cold sore (the affliction of my teen years; the infliction that kept me from joining high school band, because you can't play the flute when you get a cold sore every other month). Anyway, what's next? A zit on my nose? Horrible teenage mood swings? What the heck, let's go for broke. Give me some braces, a thick pair of glasses, and ratty hair. It'll be like no time has passed. Apparently 40 is the new 16!

Another Monday

2009-11-16T09:20:00.001-08:00

Well, I am obviously not out to win any kind of NaBloPoMo prizes, that is for sure! But I will sacrifice all the "glory" for another great weekend like this past one. Good times with friends, good food with friends, making new friends, slowly solidifying newish friendships. All in all a friend-filled weekend. And after a year in Dallas, where I had maybe 1.5 friends, it feels great.

I'm not the kind of person who must be surrounded by people in order to feel needed or loved or complete. I can entertain myself for days with nary a teary night of "woe is my, I'm all alone," as I proved so well in Dallas when Mr. J would go out of town. But laughter and sharing and good times with others is just good for the soul. And I'm eternally thankful for my loving Mr. J and the fact that he loves low-key entertaining as much as, if not more. than, I do. And although life is a little crazy these days, I do not regret for one minute making our sudden move to Boise. It suits us to a T.

But now the house is empty and the work is piling up. So time to get cracking. I imagine that with all this work surrounding me, I'll be doubly good about my daily posts this week, as that is just the way things go around here!

Procrastination Puzzler

2009-11-11T08:51:00.000-08:00

How is it that when I have fifty million things on my plate, as I did last week, I can find time every day to post to my little blog? But when I only have fifty things to do, I can't seem to keep this up? Must be one of those weird time-warp, space-time continuum doohickeys. Or perhaps we should wait until tomorrow, when my fifty things of the week are due a day early because one of my very bestest buds is coming to visit, and I need to make scones and salsa and guac and clean house. I'm sure tomorrow, when all that is going on, I'll have all the time in the world for posting. (And no, I don't NEED to make fresh scones and salsa and various other tasty treats, but I WANT to, quite possibly at the expense of my ever-growing pile of work.)

Gack!

2009-11-09T08:32:00.000-08:00

One week in and I have already missed a day of NaBloPoMo. I guess it doesn't matter too, too much, as I missed Day 1 anyway ( because I didn't know about NaBloPoMo until Day 2). So no big prize for me. But still. I can't keep up this daily posting thing for more than one week? Typical.

I am not really devastated or disappointed at all. I had a fabulous weekend, even if part of it consisted of work on a Sunday. But that work began after I enjoyed my most glorious sleep-in, make-a-yummy-breakfast, sip-my-coffee-while-doing-the-crossword-puzzle morning (which extended past noon). Heaven! And so, so, so, so needed.

While I worked, the wonderful Mr. J mowed up all the leaves and spread them throughout the flower beds and into the future fruit "orchard" on the side of the house. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon building shelves for his shed (yes, it's our shed, but I really have no interest in it, especially as it was such a pain in the arse to construct ... I still haven't forgiven it for that).

Then a leisurely night on the couch catching up on shows on Hulu and knitting (well, I knitted, and Mr. J just watched the "tube," AKA my computer screen).

Now here it is Monday again, but it's not nearly as daunting as last week. Today I even have plans to squeeze in a quickie mountain bike ride and maybe another trip to the Y (twice in three days? Miraculous). And if all goes well on the work front this afternoon, I'll get to end my day concocting dinner. On the menu for tonight: miso soup with chicken and vegetables. Hope it's as tasty as the recipe makes it out to be. Then again, if I keep writing here and not working, we'll be ordering out for pizza. Better get busy.

Life Is Grand

2009-11-07T11:14:00.000-08:00

The project from hell is over. Hooray! (Now that I have calmed down about it all, with the help of dinner with friends enjoying homemade pizza and copious amounts of wine and laughter, I can say it wasn't the authors who bugged me. It's not their fault English is not their native tongue. But it is the fault of the publisher to send it to me as a "normal" edit and to pay "normal" edit prices for something that really should have been translated by someone who understands the science of artificial intelligence before being copyedited. But nuff said. It's done.) Anyway, that project is over. I have a simple quilting project to finish by end-of-day Monday. And then life is back to normal.

And to prove it, this morning I slept in (well, until 8:00, but for me these days, that's a luxury). I tidied up a bit, played around on the computer, then hopped on my loaner cruiser bike (big blue bike with a wire basket and everything) and cruised around the North End on this blue-sky-with-white-puffy-clouds (I call them The Simpsons clouds) perfect autumn day. Crisp, cool air. People out raking and getting ready for winter. The smell of fireplace smoke in the air. Leaves falling from the trees and crunching under my tires as I cruised my way to the Y, where I actually worked out (what a concept). Then on the way out, I ran into a woman from down the street who I've been meaning to get in touch with for ages (OK, weeks). We've only lived here three months and already I'm meeting people I know on the street. I love this town!!

And on Thursday my bestest bud/former mentor is coming into town for a fabulous weekend of reminiscing, laughter, window shopping, drink tasting, and good food. Can't wait!

Reclamation

2009-11-06T07:19:00.000-08:00

I was just performing my morning ritual of procrastination (oops, I mean browsing other people's blogs), when I came across this at Hidden Camera Show. I don't know if stealing from another site counts as a daily post, but this captured exactly how I am feeling right now and what I want for the coming weeks, months, year (note: the photo is all mine):

In fact, it [NaBloPoMo] is just one act in a series of things I kind of want to do with my life. That is, acts of reclaiming. With my atrocious study- and work habits, days just kind of drift, without me feeling like I'm in charge. So, I would like to (drumroll, please) reclaim my Sundays. Oh, glorious Sundays! A day of having a lie-in and a big breakfast, the Sunday paper, maybe going for a walk or into town, reading a good book just for fun, maybe watching a film, and so on and so forth. I honestly think that I need a day in my week which is simply 'me-time', no work no nothing. If I plan my week and my work carefully enough, I am sure having my Sundays off would be feasible. Imagine that, being able to sit around and not feel guilty about not doing any work!

Dear, Departed Chester
illustrating the epitome of a proper lie-in

Of course, the trick is that whole word plan. I need to work on enhancing that P-word in my life and eradicating the other P-word (procrastination, of course).

I Will Stop Venting About This Project

2009-11-05T15:02:00.001-08:00

Really, I will. As soon as I finish it up and send it off to the publishers. But until then, here's an example of the latest text to fall under "things that annoy me about this project":

Hence the number of frequencies to be selected must be judiciary decided. The same holds two for the other analysis technique i.e. Short Time Fourier analysis and wavelet analysis.

This needs a whole lot of fixin' on a whole lot of levels, and I know it's my job as editor to do that fixin' to the best of my non-science-brain ability. But I am beginning to think they "wrote" this book by dictating it into the very speech-recognition software that they are describing how to build (the subject of this particular chapter). Couldn't they have at least given the chapters a quick proofread before sending everything off to be published?

And on another note, I now have an image of the authors looking like Lili von Shtupp in Blazing Saddles, singing "Morning, noon, and night, it's dwink and dancing / Some quick womancing / And then a shower."

A Quickie ... Really

2009-11-04T08:02:00.000-08:00

I can't seem to help myself. I have every intention of writing a short, sweet blog post, but when I'm done writing, I realize that it takes several to many scrolls of the mouse wheel to get to the bottom of it all. Can I really have that much of interest to say? Actually, no. I'm just a rambler. I can't help it.

But today is really just a quickie to get in my daily dose of writing. I am burning the candle at about five different ends. There's the project from Hell (in this case, Hell is India)--a horrible, horrible book on soft computing and artificial intelligence (don't ask) written by three people who may speak English on a daily basis but who are not native English speakers. And it shows. If I have to change one more instance of "In this section, we would be discussing the issues of some or the other artificial neural network (ANN) technologies . . ." I "would probably be very much going to" throw my cute little laptop right out the window. But it's a paying gig, and I am the one who did not say no when they offered it to me! So, oh well. As my friend says, it's job security in these crazy times. Too bad said job security is making me crazy! Then the big geography textbook project is coming to an end, which means lots of little loose ends to be tied up by right this very minute. Add to that a short indexing project (due today) and then a quilting edit (due Friday, but I'm pushing for Monday), and I think perhaps I may have overextended myself just a tiny bit. Not to mention that I have a random group of women coming over tonight for a Lia Sophia Jewelry party that I have been shanghaied into hosting. (OK, so they got me with the $78 dollar necklace that I get for $15 just for hosting; but I still consider it a sneaky move on their part.) This, in turn, means I need to clean house (Mr. J has volunteered his services), scrounge up some munchies and vino (hallelujah), and actually make myself somewhat presentable (no more sweats and PJs for me tonight.)

But all of that doesn't stop me from going out to enjoy yummy diner breakfasts with Mr. J two days in a row. How I love me some bacon and greasy spoon coffee! Especially after pulling several near-all-nighters in a row. Besides, these days, it's the only time I have to actually converse with Mr. J; otherwise our conversations would consist of me thanking him as he changes out my caffeine IV drip. Oh, and speaking of bacon (mmmm), if I lived anywhere near Colorado, I would have dibs on this cute little piggy owned by my new buddy over at Little Farm. Growing. Yum! (sorry piggy)

November 3

2009-11-03T14:05:00.001-08:00

I realize that is not a very original title for a post. But I chose it for a couple reasons, and not one of those reasons is entirely due to laziness.

First of all, it is that time of year again. Yes, it's autumn, the leaves are falling, the air is crisp and cool, there is no excuse not to savor a mug of hot cocoa every single day, and I love it. But it's also that particular day of the year when I go absolutely berserk trying to find out who is running and for what position, what the different bonds and ballot measures are, and various other voting information. You would think this information would be at my fingertips, what with the wonders of the Internet and all. Yet for the past several years, I have tried to do my civic duty as a semi-intelligent voter, and for the past several years, I have failed. And it's not just this state. For each of the past three first Tuesdays in November, I have been registered to vote in a different city, county, state. And in each state, I have had absolutely dismal luck finding the relevant information needed to cast a confident vote. So I bitch and moan and do my best. And then I leave various ovals blank, because I can't just fill in any old random vote. And this just goes against my grain, because I suffer from a serious case of SAT-itis, which means I have this need to fill in an oval for every "question," even if I'm just making my best guess, using the process of elimination, or going with my gut instinct. That kind of stuff may have helped to get me into a good college, but it just doesn't fly in the voter booth. [image courtesy of www.jardmail.com.uk]

Having said all that, I did go out and vote today, with Mr. J, who voted for the second time in his life, having only recently become a full-fledged U.S. citizen. It was quite entertaining to be back in a semi-small town (Boise may be the capital of Idaho, but it is far from being a big city--which is why we love it!). The polling station was like a ghost town, other than the workers sitting around, catching up on the latest gossip. It wasn't until halfway through the three-minute process that we realized we were being serenaded by a choir of elementary school children, who were hidden somewhere behind the big curtain on the gymnasium's stage. I think that was a first in my voting career. In addition, no one quadruple-checked my driver's license or anything. I just confirmed my address, signed a book, got my paper ballot, went into a cardboard booth, filled in the one oval I felt confident about (yes, it was the guy who wined and cheesed us at his wine and cheese event), and then slipped my sadly incomplete ballot into what looked like a large shoebox. Then it was off to Jim's Coffee Shop for a celebratory breakfast.

But I seriously digress. A much happier reason for the title of this post, and for the celebratory breakfast, is that today marks what would have been my grandparents' 79th wedding anniversary. Although Grandpa died four short years ago (yes, that means they celebrated 75 years together! Amazing!!), he is never far from our hearts or our thoughts. But Nana is still alive and kicking and is actually going in today to determine whether at 90 years old she is a good candidate for a cochlear implant (or as she calls it, a nuclear implant, which just makes me giggle). For the past 15 years or more, she has sort of laughed off the idea of trying to improve her hearing, saying that she'd probably be dead in a year anyway and why spend the money. But seeing as she was just at my cousin's bon voyage party, dancing up a storm, I think she's finally realizing that she's here to stay for a while! In fact, at her 90th birthday party last March, she was still happy and alert and pleasant at 2 a.m., recapping the events of the day and exclaiming how nice everyone was to come to her party (she had always thought that people came to her parties because they all loved Grandpa ... hmmm, and I get my insecurities from where?!). I, on the other hand, was quite disgruntled and zombielike and exhausted, ready to pass out right there on the couch.

So in honor of my Nana and Grandpa, I send out positive, life-loving thoughts to all of you. May we all have even an iota of the love and laughter my grandparents have shared with this world. And may we all do our best to pass on that joy to those who are special to us . . . or even to those we just meet on the street.

NaBloPoMo

2009-11-02T08:10:00.000-08:00

So I just realized that it's that time of year when bloggers go crazy and post a post every single day as some kind of challenge, fun, writing frenzy, something . . . . I have not participated in the past, and I'm not sure I'm participating now. We'll see how I do. Of course, I already missed Day 1. But that's because after the incredible festivities of Halloween night (such fun), it took Mr. J and I a full day on the couch, catching up on Netflix and Hulu, while munching on whatever easy food we could prepare and never once getting out of my robe or slippers to make myself more presentable (whew) to recover. I'm so glad he loves me for who I am and didn't try to "help" me recover from my crispy-around-the-edges feeling by pushing me out into the beautiful day that it was in order to haul my tooshie up a hill on a mountain bike or some such ungodly thing. Granted that probably would have been much healthier than our alternative. But sometimes you need a completely lazy day. Especially as this week I have, oh, I don't know, five horribly icky work projects! (Yippee.) Another reason I'm not sure how well I'll do on this post a post every day for a month thing. Oh, and I also love him because he sat through three hours of Lost in Austen with me, and actually found it entertaining! What a guy!

Finally, can I just say that daylight savings is being very good to me today. I just realized it is only 9:30 and I've already been working for more than an hour (usually, I'm just finishing breakfast and catching up on emails at this time of the morning).

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

2009-10-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

I just wrote a long, bitchy, moany, venting blog post about my work and the woes of my work and how much I wish this project were over (one more week ... one more week). But it was boring and depressing, and I realized that this blog is turning into too much of a sounding board for when I'm frustrated, which, actually, is what most of my journals ended up being too. And that is all fine and good for a journal that no one will ever read, but it's not incredibly exciting or interesting for the international world of blogging (even if I do have only one follower ... HI!). Besides, after writing the long, venty post, I felt much better. So I deleted it. Whew for all of us.

So, instead I'm going to recap part of the phone conversation I had today with my beautiful niece, because it just makes me smile. She called because she had just received the two box sets of books I sent via Amazon (on sale, thank you very much). [I love the idea for the National Geographic map binder, by the way! Will definitely file that away for next time!] (The gift shipped yesterday and got there today at no extra cost, thanks to my free trial of Amazon Prime ... whatever that is and which I must go cancel right now before I get charged for it.) Anyway, she could have just said "Geronimo Stilton" over and over again in her cute, growing-up-too-fast voice, and I would have been perfectly happy. What a great name for a character! But we did have an actual conversation, and my favorite part was the discussion about The Dog, whom she met only once, four years ago. So, she was, what, ... 3? Wow, what a memory. Anyway, it won't translate nearly as well, but here it is for posterity's sake.

Beautiful Niece: Thanks for the books, Aunt T. How's The Dog? [This is usually the first question she asks after saying hello, so I felt honored to actually get a full sentence from her first.]
Me: He's fine. He's taking a nap. How are you?
B.N.: Are you going to bring him with you at Christmas?
Me: I wish I could, but he would have to ride underneath with all the luggage, and he wouldn't like that.
B.N.: Maybe he could ride under your seat, like that dog you saw on the plane. [Holy crap, what a memory this child has. Last Christmas, I told her about the full-size standard poodle that got to ride on the plane right behind us, because he was being trained as some kind of helper dog. I then told her the even weirder story that the same dog was on our flight back home, a week and a half later. Weird! She, of course, thought it was perfectly normal. I mean, we flew in together, so of course we'd be on the same flight home.]
Me: [After taking a few seconds to figure out what she was talking about--apparently I do not have the memory of a 7-year-old--I attempted to explain the intricacies of training seeing-eye dogs without completely losing her interest.] Well, we'd have to train him to be a helping dog, and then he'd be allowed to fly with us. But if we did that, we'd have to give him away when we were done training him so that he could be with someone who needs help.
B.N.: [Without a moment's hesitation] Well, that stinks!

I couldn't have said it better, or more selfishly, myself. That would stink, though I guess not for the person who needed help. And where did she learn that phrase, anyway? Too. Dang. Cute!

And now that I have taken this pleasant break from the horrors of editing a high-level tech book written by two professors and one student who do not speak English as their first language, I can go back with a calmer brain. And that calmer brain is not just the result of the vodka and OJ I guzzled while writing this. Really!

Perspective-o-meter

2009-10-29T09:17:00.000-07:00

That's what I need. A big dial (or maybe even better a large plastic hammer that bonks me on the head) to keep me in check when I get too maudlin and dramatic and teary eyed over my own woes. Yes, we are struggling with money. Yes, Mr. J is having a ridiculously hard time figuring out what he wants to be and do and then finding someone who will pay him to do just that. Yes, we are living beyond our means. Yes, I really do need to work out so I can fit into my clothes, since I can't afford to buy new ones (though I did go out and buy that blue coat ... turns out it was only $20!! bargain!).

But ... where's that fancy perspective-o-meter to remind me that all in all we are healthy, are happily in love (most of the time), have a house over our heads, have parents who are supportive in every possible way, aren't being gang-raped by a vapid group of sick teenagers, aren't living in Pakistan or Iraq or Afghanistan or any other bomb-prone, wartorn country, love where we live, have wonderfully supportive friends, aren't living in a tent city under an interstate, have a heater that works (thanks to handy Mr. J), and the list goes on.

If I can just remember all this, then maybe I won't fly off the handle and yell at the person I love most in this world when what he really needs is support and encouragement. Maybe I won't become thoroughly forlorn over the fact that we can afford a new blade for the saw to build shelves, but I can't afford to lavish my beautiful 7-year-old niece with gifts on her birthday. These things make me sad, but they are not the end of the world. Life will go on for us.

And by the way, do you think it is pronounced perspectiveOMeter? or perspective-oh-MEter?

Just Write, for Writing's Sake

2009-10-20T20:12:00.001-07:00

But I have nothing in particular to say tonight.

And yet whenever I start with those words, I am usually able to fill pages with nothingness. Wanna see how that works? ...

I successfully procrastinated the day away. Started by dropping off Mr. J at the airport (boo hoo; though I do like me some me-time). From the airport I headed to Borders (because I did not learn until tonight about the local, nonchain bookstore. Next time, for sure!). After sipping my coffee and browsing the shelves and making my first full-price book purchase in months, I headed to various thrift stores and Goodwills, looking for a cool, retro raincoat. No such luck, though I did find a baby blue, full-length, inside-out-sheepskinny jacket (there's a word for an inside-out sheepskin jacket, but that word is eluding me ... maybe it's Ugg Jacket, but I really don't think so). Anyway, I am fully tempted to go back to buy said jacket tomorrow. It's only $29. It's not something I would have ever bought in my Denver or Dallas life, but here in Boise's North End, I think it will suit me just fine. And for the price, you can't beat it. If nothing else, it will be great for Halloween.

I then came home long enough to pet The Dog, change into my oh-so-stylish workout gear, and sprint to the gym for spinning. Ugh! I do not enjoy spinning, but I hate it less than running, and it seems to sweat out the same amount of crap. So I'm hoping it'll do something about getting me into my Halloween costume by ... uh ... Halloween. Of course, I completely sabotaged myself afterward by eating a square meal of chips and salsa. (Hey, tomatoes are vegetables, and tortilla chips have ... corn. So there!). After waiting all afternoon for the answers to questions I needed to be able to do my work, my neighbor called up and invited me to some kind of wine thing for the guy who's running for the local council. Good-bye work; hello free nibbles and wine. And, as it turns out, I kind of agree with the guy's politics, so I'll probably vote for him. And not just 'cuz he liquored me up with a couple glasses of red. Honest.

And now I'm back home, after a yummy lotus blossom salad at the Thai restaurant I've been lusting after for the past two months. And instead of catching up on chick flicks, or chick books, or chick knitting, or chick sleeping, I am updating this blog, which I now know has at least one (and maybe two) reader(s) out there. Hi there! Which of course puts some pressure on me to not just blather on about nothing. ... But obviously not that much pressure!

So, other than this being written on a blog rather than in one of my thousands of journals, I have just proved that my married "single" life is really no different from my single single life of years past. Well, except that I know that in one week, wonderful Mr. J will be back, so I don't have to sit here and "angst" all night about how I don't think I will ever meet Mr. (most-of-the-time) Wonderful. Because I did. So there, old single self!

Tactical Error

2009-10-07T20:04:00.000-07:00

I was all set to write a ranting, raving blog about how Mr. J and I have been complaining about our weight and lack of exercise and overeating, and how we both joined the Y this past weekend ready to turn over a new leaf, and how I headed out tonight (instead of filling a glass with wine and chowing down on ice cream, I might add) with the intent that Mr. J would run The Dog to the Y, leave The Dog in the car, and join me in the Y, and how that isn't what happened at all. Let it be noted for the record that I, virtuous one that I am, did go to the Y, after setting up the back of the truck with The Dog's bed, so he'd be nice and comfy. And I did work out, while keeping an ever-watchful eye on the door for any sign of Mr. J. After 30+ minutes, I started to realize that he wasn't coming. The ever-positive part of me was hoping that he'd decided to take The Dog for a good long run and meet me back at home. The ever-pessimistic side of me knew he was home, playing FreeCell or watching Hulu.com. The ever-worried side of me was fretting that he'd keeled over of a heart attack somewhere on the dark roads of the North End, with The Dog running rampant through the streets hunting grasshoppers or squirrels or some such thing.

Anyway, I was going to write about all that, with all the venom I could muster, because, of course, it was Door #2 that turned out to be the case (Mr. J, sitting in his running gear, staring at the computer and surfing the Web, while The Dog just stared at me with pitiful little eyes, asking, "Why didn't he take me running? I saw him put on shoes and socks and everything. Why? Why?"). But then all my rancor left me when I read about the Somali pirates (no laughing matter, I know) who mistakenly attacked a fully armed French naval ship from two little skiffs armed with what I'm sure were 1980-era Kalashnikovs. The mental image just made me giggle. That and the big glass of red I poured immediately upon entering our abode. Nothing like a little rehydration after a good workout! Well, I know Somali pirates are a big threat and that people are being held hostage, killed, tortured, and worse. But the idea of a little skiff of modern-day pirates attacking a large naval warship just sounds more like a really bad Chevy Chase movie.

In any case, glad I didn't have to vent about all that!

As I Was Saying

2009-09-11T21:42:00.000-07:00

So, I'm starting a new blog as a completely independent person (independent of my "family and friends" blog, that is). Maybe people will find this. Maybe they won't. I don't know. Maybe I don't care. I'm not sure.

I used to be one of those who kept a journal, but I haven't written in my journal in at least a year, and even then it was a once-a-year kind of thing. I don't know what it is about being married, but I just don't write as often as I used to (physically write in a hardbound book, that is). It's not that being married has stifled my "writing career." I am not a writer. I am a rambler. I write letters. I write emails. I write occasionally on a blog. But I rarely, if ever, have a beginning, middle, end to my "stories."

In my single days I wrote in one of my jillion different journals--either when I was trying to find out who I was or some such thing OR when I was ridiculously drunk. Drunk writing seemed a much better option than drunk dialing. Most of the "who am I?" entries were stupid little ditties of me trying to be much deeper than I was. And most of the "drunk" writing episodes turned into "what am I doing with my life," which just disintegrated into big pen rips through about 10 sheets of paper. Oh, the melodrama of a 20-something!

Journal writing has been something that has ... there it goes again. I start to think about actual journal writing and my brain freezes. I was looking for a word, and it just disappeared. Perhaps the word was "intimidated me" (which, of course, is 2 words). Anyway, look at my diary from 5th grade to middle school, and the most exciting entry probably consisted of, "Today I watched a new movie. I love Author, Author. Al Pacino is amazing." Yes, I was the only person in the 1980s who (1) didn't realize that Al Pacino had been around "forever" and was probably truly amazing in, oh, I don't know, maybe Godfather 1-100 or maybe even Scarface. No, I thought Author, Author was the pinnacle of his success. and (2) even saw Author, Author (and no, I don't mean Arthur, though that was probably on my Top 10 list at the time). Then, I proceeded to college where I took a (one) writing class in which the professor would review our journals every month. Good God, I can't even imagine what she thought of mine. Such pathetic driveling. I should look some of it up. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. But then again, it probably was, what with being "in love" at the ripe old age of 18 and all that. Lordie!

And then there was the journal writing of my 20s (see above). It's even more ... what's the word ... ironic? ... that most of these entries were written in journals that were gifted to me by people who thought that I would someday be a great writer. The problem with being an English major is that you actually read some really great writers, and boy howdy, is that intimidating to the perfectionist inside. No, I will never be a great writer. But who knows. Maybe I'll be a little entertaining?

Anywho, now here I am. Approaching 40 and using the "new" (semi-new to me) journaling available to my fingers. And yes, this could potentially count as middle-age drunk journaling. But that's not because I'm trying to figure out who I am, and it's not because I think my life sucks. I just need an outlet for my midnight ramblings. So here it is.

Hello, Blogger World. Let's see where this takes us, shall we?