Caution: Contents Hot!

Says my latte container. Having just read an article on Paris Hilton, the phrase made me think twice about my beverage.

Snippet updates: Shopping success on Saturday! Underwear and purse purchased! Hurrah. Also blazers ordered. Watching: CSI and loving it. Reading: Milk, just waded through the overly descriptive language of The Hatbox Letters just to enjoy the nice New Brunswick setting. It really made me want to garden, and in particular, garden in the country, where I could compost or burn clippings instead of forcing them into Hefty bags.

Secret indulgences/things about self that clash with image:
1. I regularly watch The Gilmore Girls (hey, everyone has to have a show).
2. I very much like processed nacho cheese dips, although I am picky about which one.
3. I can become [temporarily] enthralled with mundane computer games*.
4. I occasionally enjoy very mindless fiction, such as not-so-good young adult novels or murder mystery novels a la Mary Higgins Clark.

* In the The final frontiersman: Heimo Korth and his family, alone in Alaska's arctic wilderness by James Campbell, even veteran Alaskan bush trapper Heimo became addicted to computer card games during the one month that his family lived in a village to lay in supplies for the coming winter. Free cell = crack.

5-year plan

I am a fan of 5-year plans. I have one for work - which I just completed 3 years ahead of schedule. I also have one for kids - in 5 years we'd like to start having children. And because I have never changed a diaper and really enjoy my independence, I've started preparing for that overwhelming life change now. Thus, stage 1: become acclimated to the world of pregnancy/babies. So far I've read Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year and Andrea J. Buchanan's Mother Shock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of it. I also read several mommy blogs. Someday I'm going to tackle the infamous What to Expect When Your Expecting because shouldn't you know what to expect before you're expecting? I also hope to learn from a distant friend who has the same cloth diaper/homemade baby food aspirations I do, who is pioneering the way for the rest of us with her newborn.
I'm made it clear to husband that in addition to setting aside money for baby, a condition of me blowing up like a balloon is setting aside funds for a post-partum membership at the renowned posh for-serious-fitness-people-only gym in our neighborhood.
I'm already worried about day care, breastfeeding, $$$, and the fact that I can't imagine myself having a kid. I can't believe people my age have kids. I still feel very much like a kid myself.

Near misses

Moments of infinite stupidity in my life:
1. Quitting all youth sports.
2. Trying out for the flag corps in high school (I shudder just typing it).
3. Thinking that it wasn't a big deal when I started dating Husband on the close heels of another relationship.
4. Thinking that I'd be happy teaching.

Moments of infinite wisdom:
1. Drifting from the popular crowd in 6th grade when they began being cruel to other girls.
2. Recognizing that I cannot wear coral, don't look good in bangs, and shouldn't wear square-necked shirts.
3. Choosing self-respect over winning and selling out in high school debate.
4. Recognizing almost immediately that Husband was the One.

Nerdy

BREAKING NEWS: I may be going to England next January! More later.

PROTEIN-DEFICIENT NEWS: I checked out the new USDA food pyramid to see what they are all about and to create my own personalized little pyramid. Because I am a lover of charts and graphs (see anal retentiveness a.k.a. nerd, previous entry), I entered in what I ate for the day. I achieved only 3 out of my 5.5 servings of meat/protein (through bean soup, almonds, and tofu), but my nutrition chart (which they also include) said that I got more than the daily recommended allowance of protein. Should I be eating less protein-rich protein? It's so confusing.

BOOKNERD NEWS: Read a series of delightful essay and snippet-like books this weekend: The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Rosenthal, and The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell.

NEWS FOR EVA FANS: Why nerds make good husbands

Five-star or five-person tent

I sometimes like to pretend I am the hip spontaneous type... the type B kind of person who cannot do math and who feels things instead of listening to their brain. But I am not. I am the nine-year-old who asked for a hanging file system for my desk drawer so I could organize things. And now, I am the person who created an H Family Vacation Preference Indicator survey to assess where we should go on vacation next year. Yes, I am my dad. But to my credit, the indicator was useful - we are very close to booking a place, and we've only been at this for a month! You'll recall we are months ahead of the debacle that was last year's decision process.

Left to my own devices, Husband and I are frugal, thrifty travelers... seeking out clean nice facilities, although of the B&B, tent, or cabin sort. But I can fit in as well in tent living and buying meals from the grocery store as I can in five star hotels and gourmet meals. Give me a giant ocean front room and I will nod coolly to the concierge and say, "This looks fine." I melt for good service, though, and cannot resist cooing over all of the little extras... such as people coming around with Evian spritzers, bowls of strawberries or sorbet, offering to clean my sunglasses or fetch a CD player. Uno mas!

But I really can't stand anything in between. It has to be all the way nice or just basic. There's nothing worse than a Best Western Potomac View.

Husband and I had a Small Fight this week. We don't often have fights of any size. This is an event! You should have had ringside seats! But we have reconciled and can now enjoy the equally infrequent act of making up.

Morning after pickle

Snapshots from my weekend:
Wrangling vines from our lilac bushes in the rain, getting all soaked and dirty akin to camping and then throwing the clothes in the washer, cleaning up, and going out for Thai food with the satisfaction of having put in a hard morning’s work.

Attempting to rehydrate Sunday morning and assessing whether I had a gossip hangover (where I’ve revealed/inquired too much). Proclaimed myself free and clear, and while munching on a pickle (gotta replace that sodium), shared an detail from the night before with Husband, who reminded me that I’d shared the same detail last night when I’d stumbled in and collapsed in a chair moaning “drunk....druuuuuunk,” and shaking my head repentantly (but not too fast).

Posts I wrote today but deleted: a random series of thoughts that ending up coming full circle in a clever yet banal way; an essay on love death sex money a la the San Diego list, but I lost steam after death.

Coming soon... more sex!

I recently learned that people like to read about love, death, sex, or money. I do not talk much about love (beyond my affection for Kozy Shack), death (beyond my kitty dying!), sex (I know it’d be a lot more interesting if I wrote about my sex life like other bloggers, but that stays in our house/yard/car/random public venue), and I’m pretty sure my talk about money is not the kind that the speaker intended. Maybe I can get around the sex thing by writing about other people’s sex – Theystolemybike, now with weekly sex updates from my friends!

Ok, Ok, here’s one vaguely sex-related story. I was playing racquetball as I do over lunch with my friend and she mentioned that she saw this guy she recognized as she was buying pansies, and she realized she knew him from the local porn shop. I raised my eyebrow and she clarified that it’s a porn/video store. As my eyebrow was still raised she further clarified that she’s never seen porn before and chatted on a bit about that. Then there was this silence where I didn’t say anything, because while I am no purveyor of porn I can’t really say that I’ve never seen one, and it would take a lot of work to explain all that. So I turned and served.

Magic swirling ship

Four writers that I love enough to have read everything they’ve published: Margaret Atwood, Haruki Murakami, Junichiro Tanizaki, Jane Austen.

I am taking a new approach to reading. Rather than my voracious read-anything-I-feel-like-binge method, which allows for some Junk to slip in with the Good Reads, I’m going to go for a more thoughtful, Zen-type approach where I am choosier about what I read and try to get more out of them, as if I had to discuss them in class.

Am reading Kafka on the Shore by Murakami and loving it! Only Murakami can pull off stuff like this. I feel lost on a wonderful scary magic swirling ship, and like a kid can’t wait to read this night’s segment.

Don't mention the war

My dad helps companies to become more profitable, and sometimes I type up surveys he does of the employees. While the surveys are generally tedious (We need better communication... I don't get paid enough... same same same) there are always a few standouts. They fall into two categories: 1. the swearing/offensive kind, i.e. "My boss is a jackass and can eat shit" and 2. the revealing of abhorrent business practices, i.e. "If we don't have enough money the boss will pretend that we never received certain invoices and put them off until they threaten to sue us." Through typing thousands of surveys I have discovered that the favorite cliché of the disgruntled worker is: "Too many chiefs, not enough Indians."
I told husband about this last night.
Husband: That's really really, amazingly offensive.
Me: Yeah. [pause]. Well not really, I mean Indians had chiefs... so...
Husband: Are you kidding?
Husband: Too many Jews, not enough Indians???
Me: [horrified] Are you kidding? I said too many chiefs, not enough Indians!

So remember my friend who is Jewish and my alarm in almost saying "verboten" in front of her? Now I'm so self-conscious about it that inadvertently my stream-of-conscious is firing up all sorts of Holocaust-type commentary when talking with her. Today she mentioned how it my jacket was spring-like, and I almost started humming Springtime for Hitler. Nein!

Kale or culottes, cats or concrete

Give the girl a hefty tax return and a salary increase and she turns into a glutton for consumerism.
Now that we don't have to watch every dollar, suddenly I feel free! Free to go out to lunch without factoring it into my weekly spending! Free to buy a random chai latte* from the local cafe on a Tuesday night without forgoing Friday's coffee morning! Free to develop my digital pictures for a user-friendly place and not use the Best Buy photo rebate card I got with my camera that is impossible to use because you must use it in the store yet can only order photo processing online.
But with this freedom comes many agonizing decisions. The money is not endless, so I am faced with dilemmas like: a summer's supply of organic veggies or much-needed new clothes? (I have a rapidly increasing number of pairs of underwear** with holes. Enough said). Two new cats and a summer trip or fixing our garage wall? Paying more down on the car payments or the mortgage?

*The secret to the cafe's chai latte, is, surprisingly, their use of a powdered chai mix. I know this flies into the face of common sense and the most holy Oregon Chai, but I have always had a fondness for crunchy bits in my beverages - i.e. partially dissolved cocoa, Kool-aid, etc.
**When checking the thesaurus for synonyms for underwear, I found this: smallclothes. Hee hee. I will adopt it as my own.

I heart San Diego

Reasons why I am content:
1. The breadbasket at the restaurant kicked ass.
2. I can still feel the wine I had nearly two hours ago.
3. Typing on a laptop from a hotel room makes me feel like a Very Important Businessperson.
4. When bills come I get to whip out my newly acquired company Visa card, (see VIB, above).
5. Tomorrow I get to go for a long run along the bay.
6. The hot tub is just twenty meters from my door.
7. My new bestfriend Sheraton Hotels gave me a long list of options to compensate for the AC troubles last night, from which I choose the cheapest but most valuable late checkout, so I don't have to store my luggage behind the desk and roam but can bask in the AC and king bed luxury a little longer.
8. After a marathon day of sessions and lectures, tomorrow's tasks are easy-peasy.

Chilling in my nuddypants

I'm in San Diego for a conference and my surprisingly nice room has been surprisingly hot despite my best efforts to use the thermostat. When I got back from dinner (Persian, yum!) I decided to camp out in my PJ tank and underwear for awhile, giving the room one more chance to churn out the cool air. Finally, exacerbated with the system, I got into my PJ pants and picked up the phone to call the front desk. Yes, it felt wrong to talk to the concierge in my undies, as if help would immediately arrive and I'd be caught in the nuddy-pants.
[For the record, I had no trouble e-mailing sans pantalon. But yes, I'm still wearing the PJ pants so don't get excited.]
UPDATE: The front desk told me how to override the system, but it still didn't work. So the Maintenance Man is coming out, and for the Man, I put on a T-shirt over the tank because I don't want him getting any ideas.

Uno más

Mexico was wonderful - the family got along great, amazing food, gorgeous sun... altogether very relaxing. I didn't really how much I needed it (how irrational and tense I'd become) until I got home. And despite my prejudice about the banality of going to beach town Mexico (during spring break, of all times) I was delighted with the culture and wanted to learn more.

Many an hour spent here graciously accepting drinks from the attentive poolboys.

Husband and I also got endless fun from our do not disturb sign, which read something like "no molestation por favor."

Retraction: Please disregard the end of the previous post about the beating up of ex girlfriends -- it was written in haste and with deceptive information.

With great sadness...

we note the passing of Rocky, who has cheered my life since age 11. Discriminating, handsome, clever, and distinguished, his loss leaves a great hole in our household.

Wishing I had an Uncle Vinny

Funnies:
1. Husband received an e-mail from Alma Mater that began, "Hell, Mr. Husband Husband. You will want to get registered soon for the next..."
2. I was going to tell you about a funny work e-mail and then I remembered... no writing about work on your blog. So, I'll just leave you with this, the signature I added:
"I'd hoped that we could come here and reason together. And as a reasonable man I'm willing to do whatever is necessary to find a peaceful solution to this problem." Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando).

Not so funny
1. Want to beat up in a don't-mess-with-my-brother/family-who-was-going-to-take-you-on-an-awesome-vacation-to-Mexico my brother's ex (as of yesterday) girlfriend. Am worried about my big bro.

Talking 'bout a revolution

Over lunch I was reading Local Daily Tribune online and saw the word "co-ed" in a story. Co-ed? What decade are we in? And although I do not make a habit of pestering people, I couldn't resist the little innocent Author's Name link at the bottom. So I emailed him, saying I was curious why he used the word. He replied, saying he's not sure, but the word does get used at Local Daily Tribune (apparently despite it's relatively good reputation) and he'd mention it to his editor. He then replied just minutes later saying that the story has already been changed; behold the power of the internet. Wow! How's that for a quick and respectful response!

Reason #37 that Husband is awesome: He realizes that having spent twenty-four hours on a bus doesn't preclude him from the dinner rule, i.e., s/he who arrived home first is in charge of dinner.

Small things that I very much dislike and which can ruin parts of my day if I'm not careful #3: returning things. I was very chagrined to realize that when I used my new Aveeno Positively Radiant Moisturizing Lotion this morning that it was not the Aveeno Positively Radiant Daily Moisturizer that I wanted. I'm dreading asking for a return, especially since it came with a free body wash sample I've already used. Courage, son... courage.

Do you know, coincidentally, that "Talking 'bout a revolution" is my wake-up song? I put it in years ago and never changed it. But I usually don't hear it - I'm masterful at waking up minutes before, or hearing the CD start to spin.

Work? Zzzzzzzzzzz

It's just little old me at my house. Husband is off gallivanting in D.C. with his Kennedy Center and his pool parties and his twenty-four-hour bus rides... leaving me to wallow in frequent get-togethers with friends, and plentiful movie watching and naps. At first I felt somewhat lost, and buried myself under a comforter with Gemma Bovary, but an hour and a half later, when the book was done, I roused myself and things have been fine.

Next week is las vacaciones. After all this time, I'm not sure I'm ready. Yes, I'm duly stressed (the headache frequency... let's just say it's easier to list the times I haven't had a headache...), yes, I'm not too far from being ready to pack and tie up ends around the house... I'm just not sure I'm really ready. Incredibly excited? Can hardly sleep? Ready to weather the unexpected annoyances that happen when one travels, especially with family? I think it's just that I'm knee-deep in work, and unsure about leaving it. However, once I am on the beach with drink in hand, I'm sure it will be like, "Work? Zzzzzzzzzzz."

Tea is my mood ring

Black: tired
Green: repentant, i.e. ate too pieces of chocolate and want to feel cleansed
Chamomile: stressed (even though I don't really like chamomile, the stereotype is soothing)
Wild sweet orange: hungry
Peppermint: peaceful, just ate garlic
Ginger and lemon: normal

My tea stash includes:
Green: hoji-cha(loose), genmai-cha (loose), Yamamotoyama green tea, Tazo Lotus, Tazo China Green Tips, Tazo Zen.
Black: Mix of apricot, snow monkey plum, and pineapple (loose), Tazo Awake, Tazo Chai, Earl Grey (loose).
Herbal: ginger and lemon (loose), Tazo Calm, Tazo Passion, Tazo Wild Sweet Orange Blackberry (Choice), Licorice Peppermint (Choice), Stomach Ease (Yogi), Pandaberry (Republic of Tea).
Ginseng (Good Earth).

Disclaimer: I don't really favor Tazo teas, I just bought a sampler at a post-Christmas sale.

Ethnic jokes are verboten!

It's Friday night and I'm wrapped in my robe (it's cold in the office) and nursing a beer while I surf the internet. Today wasn't particularly stressful but it made me fretful and anxious, and I couldn't get my heart rate to go down. I don't want to get an ulcer at age thirty. So I made some nachos for dinner and had Kozy Shack for dessert and vegged out with the cat.
Husband, whose twenty-pound Shelby Foote The Civil War: A Narrative is blocking the keyboard, should be home in mere minutes and then I will cast off my robe and reincarnate as hip urban socialite.
So what have sites have I been visiting, you ask? I won't list the new blog I found as that is sort of verboten in the blogging community (I said "verboten" in front of a Jewish friend today and felt immediately ashamed. Is that strange?) I can tell you that I was looking for The Perfect Eye Shades. And of course, now that I have the Platonic ideal of eye shades in my head, I'm reticent to actually purchase a pair, knowing that a more perfect pair must exist out there and I'll regret my purchase. Do I want glam (silver shimmer) or always-posh black? I definitely want soft and luxurious, comes-with-its-own-case-and-earplugs, and no rhinestones or feathers or embroidered "Princess" or "Wink wink." How often I've longed for these... for the quick lunch hour nap, for the road trip, the plane, and de-stressing while riding shotgun in rush hour traffic.

Going to Paris is like getting an appendectomy

Hospitals are a lot like airports, I discovered today. For instance:
1. You log a lot of time in uncomfortable chairs next to strange people.
2. You want to check in and see how things are going with the desk, but know they don't want to be bothered.
3. You have an irrational anxiety to stay close to the unit/gate, even though you know that the results/flights won't be ready for over an hour.
4. You pay too much for parking and food.
5. There are endless mazes of corridors and terminals, and suspicious unmarked doors.
6. The time of day doesn't mean anytime beyond its relation to how long you've been waiting.
7. There's a pervasive smell of coffee, cleaning agents, and recycled air.