frazzled and bedazzled

This is Getting Scary

2010-03-10T15:11:50Z

My husband ran in while I was in the shower this morning to tell me, "There's no more Coreys!". "Huh? No more Coreys?" "Yeah, Corey Haim died!."

I told him this is getting a bit scary. First, there was the girl from Meet the Parents, then Brittany Murphy, and now Corey...these people are from our generation. How can they be dying? (The smart-ass then had to remind me they were actually younger than us.)

Sure, drugs have played some part, but then, so did pneumonia in a couple of cases. My husband reminded me that I beat that one, but that almost feels like tempting fate to say out loud.

I've been feeling pretty stressed about work lately and in general anxiously awaiting some sunshine and warm weather to return so I can get out of the house a bit more, but now...I guess I'm feeling sad for the friends and family of those who lost people close to them at such a young age, and selfishly happy for myself to still be around and able to spend more time with the people I love.

An Alternate Writer's Block Question

2010-01-20T03:31:07Z

In a house with a full pantry and reasonably stocked refrigerator/freezer, how is it possible to have "nothing to eat"?

Discuss.

Meanwhile, I'll be making notes and working to figure out why nothing sounds good for dinner despite being hungry as a bear.

Las Vegas: A Field Trip Report

2009-11-03T04:03:52Z

*U2 concert: awesome
*Seeing friends I don't get to see often: awesome
*Winning at video games: awesome
*Winning at craps: awesome-squared
*Dinner at Battista's: still awesome after all these years
*Weather: awesome
*Tacos with shredded chicken: awe-yum
*Episode of Three Rivers we watched to complete an opinion poll: the opposite of awesome (My daughter said, mid-show, "The dial doesn't go below 0! It needs to go below 0!")
*Seeing costumes a week before Halloween: awesomely creative
*Getting diet Coke in a bottle: awesome awesome awesome - do you know how long it's been since I've had diet Coke out of a bottle? ::sob:: There are no words for the joy.
*Over-imbibing on the last night: ummm...no comment
*Flying home after over-imbibing on the last night: awe-yuck (except I sat next to two U2 fans who weren't my family - that was fun - and I was smart enough to get a direct flight, so go me)

7 Random Thoughts I Don't Have the Wherewithal to Develop into Stand Alone Posts

2009-10-18T18:52:41Z

1. The other morning when I woke up, I thought "this could be the last day of my life". Obviously, this is true on any given day, but I've never had a thought like that upon waking up. It put me in a strange mood all day, thinking of fun things I would've rather been doing, thinking about how typical my day was with work and running out to lunch half-starved because I wanted to get to just one more thing before I left my desk, and choosing what to eat based on the fact that I planned on working out that night. If I had been hit by a bus in the middle of the day, that would have been the most extraordinary thing about it since the rest was so boring to contemplate.

2. Despite a very negative start with it, I've really taken to Zumba. Most of the instructors at my gym use a mixture of Latin & world music plus hip-hop. The hip-hop songs always get us going the most, and I don't know if that's just because the songs are familiar and in English and with a rhythm we're used to (I was struck during U2 3D by the fact that the Latin American crowd bounced around at a much faster rhythm than we use in the US). The songs in Spanish get to me, though. I'll wake up with a bit of song and dance in my head and it's kind of frustrating because I don't know the lyrics. All I can do is bop around the house performing echoes of dance moves I half remember from class while stanzas of songs run through my head.

3. Why do running shoes have to cost so much? I haven't really been on a run for months, but I've been able to do a mile or so on the treadmill at the gym and now I'm eager to try it again outside. (I all but threw my fists in the air and yelled 'Steve Holt!' at the time, I was so stoked to be able to run even a little). I'm not expecting anything spectacular, but I know to expect anything at all I'm going to need new running shoes. I had been saving my running shoes for running, but then things came up, the other shoes I used for other stuff didn't work out, and now the shoes I had saved for running need to be replaced. I looked them up online today and even though Nike has moved on a generation or so with the ones I use, the most inexpensive ones I could find are $50. All I can do is think about how the latest thing in running is doing it barefoot, and that's starting to sound appealing. Only the thought of how stinking cold and wet it is to run barefoot this time of year is holding me back from trying it right now.

4. My family is getting pretty excited to be leaving for Las Vegas in a few days. I can't even express how happy I am to be having a few days off of work. And to be warm again for a couple of days. *AND* to get to see U2 again. I. Can't. Wait. I keep hearing tantalizing things about some of their song selections (obscure to the masses, but as well known as a good friend for the fans) and have my fingers crossed that I'll get to hear some things I never expected to hear live. Plus, some friends from Los Angeles will be there and it's always good to get to see old friends.

5. In Rolling Stone a few weeks back, there was an article about Pearl Jam. I keep thinking about an anecdote they related and I chuckle every time it comes to mind. During a concert, Eddie Vedder spotted a fan in the crowd wearing a t-shirt with "No Even Flow" written on it. The band ripped into Even Flow as Eddie told him, "We take requests, not commands. You should know that by now, sir." I'm sorry I missed seeing them again when they came through recently - they really are a great band to see live. If you're a rock-and-roll fan, you need to see them at least once, I think.

6. I don't know if it's the stress of work, work, work and the daily grind of always being responsible to do something for somebody just about wherever you are, or mid-life crisis, or what...but I've been feeling...I guess the word is "restless". Well, "restless" doesn't quite say it, either. What I'm feeling is jealous of people who can still go out to a club and hang out with friends, drink and let off steam, do crazy-fun things, sleep it all off the next day, then hang around sort of dressed and with last night's make up half on and half in places it shouldn't be, laughing about the night before and life in general until the urge for greasy Mexican food becomes so irresistible that a shower and a trip out of the house is as necessary as air. You can't do that when you get much past your 20s - or if you do, you're labeled a big ol' loser. But the thing is, you kind of *need* that sort of thing every once in awhile. Or at least I do. I don't want to not be a married mother with a respectable job, but I do long for the option of having a place I can go and have fun for a few hours that involves loud music and dancing that's like the places I frequented when I was younger. I wonder sometimes if I'm the only one, or if I started a club for the older crowd, if it would be packed with people every Saturday night, dancing and drinking and smoking like rock stars, getting their groove on in their mom jeans (or the male equivalent thereof) until the wee small hours.

7. I went out after work a few nights back and had drinks with a couple of work friends. One of the people I hadn't seen in about 5 years and she didn't recognize me when we met up. At all. She was walking by and didn't see us, I yelled her name, then had to grab her arm to get her attention. She looked at me strangely, as if she was attempting to form the polite words for "who the hell are you?", then glanced over her shoulder and recognized someone else. She told me later I looked so completely different to her that she never would have guessed it was me. I came home and looked at a picture of me that was taken with my family around the time when we last saw one another to double check for myself. I look just about the same, I think. My hair is styled a little different, but hell, I still own (and wear) the outfit in the picture. I feel like I'm always just about the same - same general hair style, same general clothing style. This happened to me before between going off to college and coming back at the end of freshman year - people didn't recognize me and I didn't get it. I think it comes back to this thing that's also related to how I run into people all the time who say I look familiar to them: I think I'm a particular kind of average-looking that allows others to imbue characteristics onto me from other people, and vice versa. So when people haven't seen me for awhile, they can't remember the details from the prior time they saw me, and when people I've never met before see me, they think I'm someone else. I started developing this theory awhile back, at a time a little after I was newly married and heard a story on the news about the height, dress size, bra size, and shoe size of the average American woman: my shoes were larger, but otherwise it was if they were describing me. At the time all it made me wonder was why, if I represented the average, I could never find anything to wear in my size. Later on, as incidents of non-recognition and over-recognition piled up, I started thinking about how it wasn't just size where I was apparently the American average and I started developing my Theory of the Average. Thus far, it seems to me that my Theory is holding up to scrutiny. In any event, I must say it is somewhat weird being the equivalent of room temperature. But on the other hand, it also means I am able to fit in with most crowds, and that's not too shabby at all.

fiveandfour @ 2009-09-20T10:26:00

2009-09-20T17:57:44Z

My carpal tunnel has been particularly awful for the past few weeks. It's to the point where I'm actually considering the surgery, even though reports from people I know who have had it indicate mixed success and relief. I'm starting to figure that although it may not help and I could go through the pain and suffering for nothing, at least I'll know I've done what I can to try to make life better. You would think that not being able to do so much as clean a dish would be nice - and ok, I'll admit that in a way it *is* nice to have an excuse not to do housework - but any niceness from forced laziness is eclipsed by the overwhelming frustration of feeling useless. I see a splatter on a cupboard-front and know there's only so much forebearance I can squeeze out of my family in expecting them to clean it up since, after all, they've already cooked the meal and done the dishes. I notice it and it bugs me; they don't notice it and feel henpecked and that I'm ungrateful for what they've done when I point such things out.

This last week I did as little as possible, didn't lift weights when working out, typed by hen-pecking, and don't feel so enflamed from fingertip to shoulder today. I was amazed to realize yesterday how it seems as if I haven't exercised at all thanks to not lifting weights. It's as if my body craves that challenge that I put forth to it and was sorely disappointed to have missed it.

It's also frustrating to not be able to do this. It's a kind of exercise to the mind that I also miss, not to mention a way of making a human connection. And like with exercising muscles, you find you get out of shape when you give it up for a little too long. It feels like too long, as if I'll lose the skill all together if I don't just suck it up and do it once in awhile despite the pain, hence the typing when I really shouldn't be typing.

Since I'm good for just a few more words, I'll do a random, bullet-style list of life at the moment:
*Plans are coming along for a trip to Las Vegas next month. We really need to pick a place to stay and make the reservations, but for some reason, we are all in a dither over just making the choice.
*Summer is hanging in there 'til the very end this year and I'm quite enjoying it, not least because I don't really have a fall and winter wardrobe at the moment (I stupidly got rid of all of the stuff that was too big thinking "Oh, I've plenty of time to shop for stuff that fits").
*My daughter participated in an awesome soccer game yesterday. It ended in a tie, which I think was perfect because they really were so well matched against one another. There were lots of screams and groans throughout from the supporters of both teams. It was great fun to watch.
*I had a fantastic meal at a local restaurant called Cafe Nell the other night and I really wish I could to it justice with a nice, long post. I was with some people who know the chef, so got to meet him, and the chef kept sending out little treats for us to try that didn't end up on the final bill. There was this utterly superb eggplant soup - and I was thinking just a few days before about how I must not like eggplant any more because the last few times I've tried it, I haven't liked it - that was infused with garlic and other good stuff. And my pasta was out of this world. And dessert! So scrumptious. Anyway, if you're in Portland, check it out. He cooks with local, organic ingredients whenever he can and that love of food and flavor definitely shows up on the plate. I think I'll be taking my husband there for his birthday in a few weeks.

I really need some groceries, so I need to get myself motivated and out of the house. I have an appointment to have my computer looked at this afternoon, but I'd like to get out and enjoy the sunshine before that so I think I'm going to sign off now.

When Stubborn Meets Obstinate

2009-08-30T18:12:41Z

I've talked before about the stubborn streak in our cat, Misty. Let me tell you about the latest way she expresses her stubbornness.

After the vacation my family took at the beginning of May, she started this new thing: she likes to drink out of our water glasses. Or, to be more precise, mostly she likes to drink out of my water glass. At first, she refused to drink out of her bowl and I'd catch her lapping out of glasses constantly. Thus began a little war between us: I'd catch her at it, stop her from drinking, and she'd either slink away or go right back to sneaking toward the glass. Eventually, she started drinking from her bowl again and the frequency of her attempts was reduced. She still inches her way toward my water glasses that are sitting on side tables (and heaven help me if I set something on the floor) and is perfectly ready to drink out of them, but mostly she's now reserving her efforts for the glass of water I keep on my night stand. Making it even more grrr-inducing is that she also reserves her efforts for getting at that glass of water to the middle of the night.

It's one of my requirements for sleeping that I have a fresh glass of water next to me. Even if I'm not thirsty, if that glass of water is missing, I just can't relax enough to get to sleep for fear of waking up in the middle of the night, needing a sip of water. She's now taken to waiting until I'm asleep, then picking her way across the landscape of the bed and everything on it to get to that glass. It's the work of a moment for her to get from the floor on the other side of the room to having her face buried in my glass, happily lapping away. If I'm not quick enough in waking up to separate her from the glass, it's all over for me and that glass of water. I can't even count the number of times I've been *just* on the cusp of sleep, when I've felt her there, bridging herself between the bed and the night stand, placing a paw on the stand and slowly leaning into it, in preparation of taking a drink.

For a short while, we thought she may be afraid of straws in the glass because my daughter observed her checking out one of her glasses that had a straw, then quickly shying away. For a few happy nights, thinking we had cracked the code, I placed a straw in my night time glass of water. She got over her fear in a hurry, however, and we noticed that one night the straw had been moved - she figured out how to nose it out of the way and stick her face on in there. I've tried placing books on top of the glass; she noses those out of the way, as well.

Given her stubborn nature, I think this has taken on the aspects of a challenge to her and her sense of catliness. Meanwhile, it's taken on the nature of a challenge for me, as well, and my sense of being the master of this situation. On the one hand, I don't want to damage our relationship - I'm her go to human for all her ills - and I obviously don't want to hurt her. On the other hand, this needs to stop.

My family has discussed two ideas: I get a sippy cup (like for coffee) and use that until she gets over this obsession. I hesitate to do that because I'm not so coordinated in the middle of the night and I suspect the result of me + anything beside a glass in the middle of the night will = a frustrated me and a wet bed. The other idea is to dedicate a glass to her - I'll drink out of it and then let her have it, and get a second glass for myself. That I really don't want to do because I think the lesson she'll learn is that it's ok to drink out of our glasses.

So now what?

***
And speaking of cats, we've been teasing ours relentlessly with whisker and tail massages after seeing this video with it's "whisker watch alert". Too funny.

Pondering...

2009-08-07T14:17:51Z

I'm in the midst of reading Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises and I'm torn between thinking the fact that I find it to be like an almost-skillfully written autobiography (as in, it's good and all, but not all that great in the story-telling line at the same time) is either a sign of great skill and subtle genius or a horrible brand of laziness.

Jake is just arriving at Pamplona so the bullfighting hasn't started yet. I'm trying to do my best to see how it all comes out before making a final judgment. All I can say is, there better be some touching and profound revelation about the human condition somewhere between now and that last word if Hemingway is going to pull the iron out of the fire and secure my good opinion.

I Think I've Made a Huge Tiny Mistake

2009-07-31T14:25:31Z

I bought some MAC eye shadow. I don't recommend it. Unless you like having your eye shadow navigate away from your eyes to places all over the rest of your face; if that's the case I say "go for it".

Also, I put on some of that self-tanning lotion this morning by accident. It was one of those free samples and I didn't really pay any attention to what the label actually said - I just thought, "Oh good, I can always use lotion". Next thing I knew I was looking at orangey-bronze streaks all over one of my legs. Which meant that of course I had to spread it all over both legs so they'd match. I'm now praying I won't end up with streaky tan lines for the rest of the summer. Oh, and let me not forget to mention that I polished off the experience by using another brand of lotion on my arms (since I didn't want to risk the streaks there, too), so now I smell reeeaaalll interesting. Something akin to what I think my husband would call stripper-ish. (Lets not get into the oppression of women and making do however they can in a world set up to favor the white male establishment and blah blah blah right now and just agree there's a certain kind of woman who goes for the "more is better" theory when it comes to applying scent and oftentimes those women are employed in a certain kind of job and leave it at that, ok?)

As maybe you can tell by the tenor of everything I've said thus far, I didn't really sleep last night - this heat wave we're having in the Pacific Northwest has been killer on the sleep patterns. I think this entire region is full of grumpy, loopy, crazy people now that we're going on so many days over the 90 degree mark (and some days over 100 with night-time lows in the 80s). We're not used to this kind of thing here - we're used to rain, rain, and more rain. I predict a mass hibernation the first day we have a high in the 70s again. I'm bleary-eyed and running on caffeine + determination (with a hint of oh-f*-it, I can't sleep anyway). I guess what I'm saying is: this is not the day to mess with me, world. I've already had it up to *here* thanks to the "eye" shadow and self-tanning experiences.

And oh good, now it's time to leave for work - this outta be fun.

P.S. Now let's forgot all that grousing so I can wish montyollie a Happy Birthday (I'd better do it now before I miss the day entirely). Hope you have a terrific, celebratory day.

Remind Me Why...

2009-07-17T14:16:55Z

I can't leave the house without clothes on?

Man, it's too stinking hot and not even 8 am! And, really, not that hot, objectively speaking.

I can tell already this day has "miserable" written allllll over it.

Favorite Thing I Read Last Night

2009-07-11T14:29:35Z

This little snippet comes from the UK version of Men's Health Magazine: vodka is friends with everyone.

God, I love the British. Who else would talk about adding vodka to a post-workout protein shake as a way of easing into the time between a workout and a night out with friends? Or have a whole article on the healthiest beers?

Signs I May Have PMS

2009-07-10T14:14:15Z

1. I'm craving something from McDonald's for breakfast. McDonald's! This is in spite of the fact that I've regretted pretty much anything I've ever had from their breakfast menu.

2. I've got that Blacked Eyed Peas song Boom Boom Pow running in a loop in my head, digging its little ear-wormy self in deeper and deeper whenever I attempt to think of some other song.

3. I'm crabby despite a good night of sleep.

4. There's no amount of product in the world that's going to make my hair look good today.

Numbers 2 and 4 may be kind of weak, but I'm pretty confident about numbers 1 and 3. I may as well go and stock up on some bad chocolate right now and save the world from one more raving lunatic when I try to get it when I'm a bit more desperate and stabbing someone seems a perfectly reasonable way to get them to hurry the hell up in front of me in the checkstand line. (Or, alternatively, just eating the damn thing right there in line and handing over the wrapper to the checker for scanning when it's finally my turn.)

Not Even Close to the Rest of the Story

2009-07-08T15:37:35Z

Have been battling insomnia again in recent months (why? why? why? I was doing so well there for awhile) and grossly overslept this morning - as soon as my toast pops, I'm outta here.

Meanwhile, I'm amusing myself imagining the story behind this exchange from textsfromlastnight.com:

(240): Banned from zoo.
(301): Again?

I love how those four little words say so much while saying so little. Can't you just see a whole story, a la The Hangover, unfolding from that small kernel?

Oops there's the sound I was waiting on; time to wield the peanut butter. Happy Wednesday, everyone.

Celebrating My Independence

2009-07-04T17:11:52Z

A little later today I'll indulge in my favorite 4th of July ritual. Not watching fireworks or soaking up sun or eating too much, but reading the Declaration of Independence. Besides, I did two of those things yesterday.

Friends formerly of Portland, now of Los Angeles, are in town and I got to meet up with them yesterday. We went to Portland's annual Waterfront Blues Festival and walked around in the sun, checking things out, occasionally listening to music (the Zydeco was my favorite - there's something about it that seems about as opposed to the blues as you can get, but I wasn't complaining), and mostly just talking and enjoying one another's company. They were staying at a newly opened hotel in downtown called the Nines and after the festival, they invited me back to check it out. It's one of those weird things about hotels that they have public spaces so a person can go look them over or meet people or have dinner, but it's pretty rare that you actually do. So it was great having an excuse to be able to give in to my curiosity, not to mention possession of a room key which allowed access to the non-public floors. We went to the restaurant area (which reminded me of the restaurant I visited in Honolulu that is accessed by going through a furniture store) and sat for a happy hour drink, then my friend's husband left to pick up some of her family to bring them to the restaurant for dinner. It worked out that my family couldn't make it, so I stayed on and had a fabulous meal and got to catch up with her mom, aunt and uncle. (I spent a lot of time with these people in high school - her family (well, pretty much everyone's family) were so much more agreeable to be around than my own.) Since I don't eat beef - and that is a heavy feature of the menu - I had chicken for my protein and it was terrific. I also tried a green bean dish I'm going to have to try to replicate - they were sauteed quickly with thinly sliced onions and almonds. Then the icing on the cake for the carbohydrate lover that I am was the pureed potatoes which were obviously made with cream. Ho man, so good! I don't eat like this often and my stomach is still recovering. I don't know how many hours in a gym it would take to burn all that off - and I really don't care. One of life's great pleasures, so far as I'm concerned, is a good meal in happy company and I'm a firm believer in setting aside the internal calorie-counter every once in awhile and enjoying food in a way that we don't in our day-to-day lives. Oh! I was wrong about something...the icing on the cake wasn't the potatoes (though, did I mention?, sooooo good!), it was the Cakebread Chardonnay. I've said before how I'm not one for Chardonnay, but I'll certainly make an exception for Cakebread any time. I had a water bottle in my purse from the earlier time out in the sun and at the end of the meal hated wasting the final glass left in the bottle so much that we were very uncouth and smuggled it out in my plastic bottle. It's sitting in my refrigerator right now; I don't think it'll be there long.

I was so replete that I had a hard time sleeping last night. Even had I not been planning to go to the gym this morning, I think I'd be going anyway just to wake myself up. I feel like an utter slug this morning and I think if I don't do something to force myself to move around today, this gorgeous and clear 90 degree day will see me sitting in front of a fan napping away the hours, maybe breaking up the time with some reading. Not that that's a bad thing, but living in the Pacific Northwest has taught me not to take a sunny day for granted and to get out there and enjoy each of them as much as possible.

I've had my morning tea, I'm sort of vertical, and it's time I got this holiday started by giving thanks for all of the things I get to do and be as a result of the untolled sacrifices made by many other people - both past and present.

Have a happy (and safe) 4th!

fiveandfour @ 2009-06-28T08:46:00

2009-06-28T16:46:25Z

This morning, while performing The Macaroni-and-Cheese Experiment - Part II, I thought of that phrase which is a favorite of dieters everywhere, "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels." If referring to the mac-n-cheese I was tasting at just that moment, I would have to agree. But if referring to the fresh-from-the-fields strawberries I bought yesterday, well. Then there could be some debate.

While out and about last week-end, my family pulled up the drive of what used to be a small family farm near our house. Since living in this neighborhood, I've gone there in June for strawberries, in July for blueberries, in August for corn, and during the growing season in general for tomatoes, cucumbers, apples, and pears. The family has moved to another farm and that berry stand wasn't open any more, so the next day we tried a couple of other places. One is quite popular locally, but even though the produce is freshly picked, I've never found the flavor to be worth a damn. What's the point of going to the source (and paying more per pound, I might add) if I can get the same, nearly flavor-free food at my grocery store? Obviously, this particular farm grows for bulk sales and not for quality of taste, and I don't see the point of going back. A few miles down the road we tried another one and this time had more luck. We picked up a half-flat of strawberries, and oh!, they were good. They tasted like strawberries should taste, bursting on the tongue with that bright sweet-tartness that tell you, "Here is a worthwhile berry!" and justified every one of those times I've passed on having one of those reddish things you find everywhere that have been bred for looks. Like everything else where the looks are more important than the substance, they are but a pale imitation of the real thing, and only wish they were good enough to be pretenders to the throne.

Well, anyway, despite the fact that my husband doesn't love berries as much as I do, he ended up eating most of that batch. Don't get me wrong, I ate quite a bit, but I wasn't quite in the mood for them, as awful as that sounds. I know, I know: the season to get a true strawberry is so short, and here I was letting it pass me by. This week-end, however, the tide had turned and I was very much in the mood. During the middle of last week, my husband had gone back to get some more, but was seduced by some Hood River cherries instead. You see, we used to take a day and drive to Hood River to a farm to get The Best Cherries Ever Grown on the Planet Earth, and one of our greatest disappointments came on the trip when we found that farm is no longer open to the public. We ended up getting some sorry road-stand version of cherries and have not had a truly fantastic bunch of cherries in all these years since. But last week, my husband tried one, it was good, and he brought the half-flat home. Only to realize he'd been hornswoggled: He'd managed to get the one and only cherry with any flavor out of that entire batch. So there we were with a bunch of flavor-less cherries and no strawberries.

The strawberry season is drawing nigh and now is not the time to dilly-dally, so I went back yesterday for more. These were even better than the first batch, and I gorged on them all the way home, not caring about the stains on my fingers and under my nails, nor any potential stomach-aches. I cut up a bunch and we had Strawberry Shortcake for dessert last night. That dessert will be one of the culinary highlights of my year, it was just so quintessentially what Strawberry Shortcake is supposed to be. It was perfect.

There might be a week or so more when the valley berries will be around (that's what we call them locally; I live in the Willamette Valley), then it'll be time for the cane berries to take the stage: first raspberries, then marionberries, and finally - my favorite - blackberries. Blackberries really are the perfect way for summer to come to a close: they distill the hot, sunny days of summer into a deep, sweet, dark taste that's like nothing else on earth. While perfect picked warm off the vine, they're also good cold over ice cream, or hot in a cobbler. They encapsulate the delights of summer into a flavor that you wish could last forever, even while knowing that part of what makes it so good is the very brevity of its availability.

Every summer I wonder the same thing: how is it I manage to eat the rest of the year? Sure, there's good stuff growing at other times, but the foods that truly delight me, the ones that need so little work to taste so good, the things that make me wish I could wax poetic, are the foods of summer. It always feels like the rest of the year is "feeding a little life with dried tubers" while this... This is living.

ETA: Ha! And then I start catching up on what I've missed last week and see this. I guess this means there is some debate on the mantra.

Don't Get Me Started...

2009-06-07T18:25:03Z

I came to post about something else entirely (my daughter is extraordinary - I guess I'll leave it at that for now), then I caught this post-prompter on my way in:

If you had to choose between your friends and your significant other, who would you choose?

I'd say, if you're in a situation where you had to choose between one or the other, you've made some bad choices already with either the spouse or the friends.

This stirs up more fodder for the "Marriage Manifesto" that I've been developing subconsciously for several years and which I've been thinking of lately anyway thanks to the dissolving marriage of some people I know.

The thing that bugs me about this divorce is that it's not even final and the wife just moved in with another man. I'm the first to admit that no one outside a marriage can know everything that's going on inside of it, so outsiders truly don't get to judge. And in this case, while the guy she's divorcing is nice and dependable and has a sense of humor and all of that, he also has some tendencies to see a woman in a light straight out of the 1950s that I know I could never live with. BUT. It just seems to me that there's a striking inability for someone to take adult relationships or marriage seriously when she's moving in with another man before the divorce of a relationship (of somewhere in the 10-year neighborhood) is over. It would bug me no matter what, but what's really irritating me in this situation is that there are children involved. Not just the three from the couple getting divorced (or, more accurately, I should say one of the children came from a prior marriage, but that father has been out of the picture for years; two came from the one now ending), but the new man in the picture has a child as well.

I can see already that the oldest girl, a teen-ager now, has a distinct lack of interest in boys. And I don't mean this in the "she may be gay" way. I mean it in the "she doesn't see the point" way. From her point of view, these men in her mom's life have meant moving when she had just made friends (and she's a very shy girl), being told what to do by people who are but temporary placeholders so why bother, a mother who goes through periods of being down that she can do nothing about. In other words, getting involved with a man means feelings of helplessness, sadness, and losing one's power of self-determination. It makes me sad to think how hard it will be for her to ever trust a man, or to trust her own ability to choose wisely.

While I don't believe every person needs marriage or that every woman needs a man to have a fulfilling and interesting life, I do think it's sad to have that option taken away from you. I see a future for her of never being in a truly special relationship either because she'll hardly ever let a man in long enough to give him a chance or because she'll treat relationships in the same way her mom does.

In all, it's frustrating to see. And of course takes me one step closer to understanding parents are, after all, just people. You spend years and years thinking they have some special wisdom or power that you don't, that the ways in which they messed up your life had to be done deliberately somehow, when really they're stumbling around trying to figure things out just like everyone else is.

It's a strange quirk of human evolution, isn't it? How much a person needs from her parents to survive childhood, and how much she'll need to be a parent to forgive how her parents accomplished that survival?

You Glorify the Past When the Future Dries Up

2009-06-06T18:59:55Z

Just back from my Saturday morning work out and I'm all sweaty and starving, so this will be quick. On my way home, I had an urge to hear the School of Fish song Three Strange Days. When I checked the video out from that link I saw this comment: "the 90s was my favorite decade for music - and i've been alive since 1952".

Generally speaking, I try not to think in those terms when it comes to music and art because these are things in constant flux: an artist is inspired by something personal, something happening in the wider world, something some other artist did and there always seems to be something of value there to appreciate even if it's not your favorite thing. Having said all that: man, I miss the music of the 90s, too! I've really been struggling with this lately because my daughter is into the Top 40 kind of music right now and I swear so many things sound the same to me. I tell myself every era has its sound, its quirks, its exceptional musicians who will stand the test of time and the ones who merely move things along in very (very!) small ways.

I remember reading a Newsweek article around the beginning of the 90s about how rock-and-roll was limping along and the music industry was struggling to find a way back to the heyday of growth in sales they experienced in the 80s (I'd like to see that article again; wonder if I can google it?). The gist of it all was that rock was dead, killed off by the soft rock that did so well in the 70s and the New Wave and hair bands of the 80s. And then grunge hit. I know for a lot of people, it was Nirvana that kicked all that off. For my husband and me, it was more Pearl Jam, Temple of the Dog, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, et al; Nirvana were pretenders to the throne and we bought Nevermind because people kept telling us it was so good, not because we had come to that conclusion ourselves. Plus of course U2 kicked off the decade with Achtung Baby and it's one of the best rock albums. Ever.

So now the 00s are nearly over and for me the 90s have it all over this decade of music. On the one hand, I think it's probably natural to have strong feelings about the music that got you through the years before marriage and kids and career take over your life; the years of relatively little responsibility coupled with lots of free time. But on the other hand, I truly believe - objectively speaking - there was some damn good music going on back then. Don't get me wrong, there's still lots to love going on these days. But that era will always hold a special place in my heart.

And so, off to the shower where I expect something from the 90s will be on the set list.

Faster than a Speeding Bullet

2009-06-05T05:15:36Z

Man, time has been flying lately. I've been on the hamster wheel of up early, off to work, taking short lunch breaks, rushing home, rushing off to softball/gym/wherever, and moseying back home to drop into bed for a short spell before doing it all over again. Sadly, the softball games will be all over with next week since my daughter chose not to play post-season this year (teary face). On the other hand, that's more time for the "wherever" part of the equation and what's lovely about summer in Portland is the long, long days and so many nooks and crannies to discover.

Anyway, I'm waaaay behind on looking at posts. I'm obviously delinquent with posting. And I've got topics and thoughts stacking themselves up, waiting to be off-loaded, cluttering up my brain. I need to say something about them so as to clear the decks, but who knows if I'll actually get around to that before the pressure to speak dissipates. So, anyway, there's that sob story.

Meanwhile, we had a wicked thunder and lightning storm here today. As I left work there were the high winds with leaves, branches and dust flying hither and yon. During the bumper-to-bumper drive home there was the pouring rain. As I neared home there were the amazing streaks of lightning and booms of thunder right above and all around me. Then I made it home and it was nearly over (where we are - it was just making its way north and west to spread cheer up and over to the coastal area). Of course, that kind of weather seems to wake up my molecules and get them hopping, so I was loving every electrifying minute of it. I expect I'd be one of those idiot storm chasers if I didn't have the small supply of common sense I have because I find storms like that loads of fun. But after all the action, it's still humid as hell, which is most unusual for this area. At some point I expect it'll break and I'll be able to wear my wedding ring again. I hope.

Now I've exhausted what was left of today's meager mental abilities and it's off to bed for me. Take care and enjoy the summer, everyone.

There's Almost No Mood So Bad that a Walk in the Woods Can't Make it Better

2009-05-17T05:01:41Z

It's been a beautiful day here in the Portland area. Low- to mid-80s in temperature, blue sky, flowers blooming, and birds chirping. At one point today, I was at a loose end for about 2 hours, so decided I *had* to get outside and enjoy the day. I was a bit on the fence about hiking by myself (due to the on-going ankle issue, time, etc.), so in the end I compromised with myself and went off to a place in Portland called Hoyt Arboretum. My daughter and I have been there many times together. Trails named Magnolia, Hawthorn, Wildwood, Fir, Creek (and many, many more) criss cross one another up and down the mountain. There are so many ways to go, it's like the choose-your-own-adventure-story of hiking. I don't know if anyone's done the math, but I'd have to guess there have to be at least 100 variations one can hike. For the most part, my daughter and I like to try a new combination on each visit, though when time is tight we have a couple of loops where we know the approximate length and time involved and will stick to those.

Today I went about 1/2 way on a section I've done a few times before and the other 1/2 on an area that's new to me. There are benches and picnicking areas sprinkled throughout, and groups and singles were out in force enjoying the day, making the human element as effervescent as the one provided by nature. I was very glad I decided to go up there, and was reflecting on the way home that every time I doubt whether it's worth it to do whatever it is I have to do in order to get myself outside for a walk, I need to remember that IT IS. Today's walk was worth how I had to squeeze it in between other obligations. And it's even worth the extra ache in the ankle I'm feeling tonight. It's always worth the effort I put out and then some.

I was kicking myself for not taking the camera as there's so much of interest (and it's so different on every visit) to memorialize. At the top of this trail is a vista across the city of Portland to the Cascade Mountain Range beyond, and on a down-swing for that trail is a panorama of trees, bushes and grasses that display more nuances of green than all the world's languages combined have words to describe.

Tomorrow we'll be able to spend the day as a family, and as the weather is predicted to be more of the same, we'll come up with something to do to enjoy it. I'm voting for a drive and a hike, with lunch al fresco on the banks of a stream. In other words, more of today, only supersized.

Here's hoping....

Family is FUNdamental

2009-05-14T22:54:57Z

On my daughter's 8th birthday, my husband and I woke her up early in the morning. We had her open a couple of small gifts (clothes), then gave her the big one: we were taking her to Disneyland that day.

My husband and I had talked for awhile about when the right time to take her would be. Since going for us involves plane rides and a hotel stay (aka a not-insignificant outlay of money), plus a coordinated stint of time off work, we wanted to make it count. So it had to be when she was old enough to really remember it, yet when she was young enough to still be into all of the things designed just for kids. Around the time she turned 6, we decided to make it her 8th birthday gift.

It turned out to be the perfect time to take her as respects all of the things we hoped she would get out of it, plus the things we hadn't really thought about, like her stamina to make it through the hours of walking around and waiting in line and her ability to maintain a good mood without getting cranked out too soon.

It was a terrific vacation and at the end of it we decided that, unless there was some other reason we'd be in the area, we wouldn't want to come back until about 5 years had passed. That way the park could develop some more (as it always is), giving us new things to see, and it would still be something special for us to look forward to. Eventually we hit upon the idea of taking her back for her 13th birthday, hence the trip last week.

Once again, it was terrific. As my husband and I were discussing yesterday, it felt as though we had our little girl back. She really is a delight for us to spend time with - smart and funny with a unique way of seeing the world - but of course at this age she is pulling away to spend more and more time with her friends, so we don't have the same kind of connection that we once had. Though we're probably about as close as any parent can hope to be to a girl entering her teens these days, we're not the center of her universe any more. It was great to have that again, if only for a short time.

She's completely fearless when it comes to going on the rides, and as she's always been kind of tall for her age, even at age 8 she was big enough to go on anything she wants. And she wants to go on them all. For the most part, her dad will go on the rides with her that I ~~can't~~ won't, but there's even a couple that scare the crap out of him that she has to go alone. With the exception of a few times where we split up for rides (and an evening where she was dead tired so my husband and I went to Shakeys without her (we couldn't pass up the opportunity to have the fried chicken and mojo potatoes)), we spent the week together.

As my husband and I both had childhoods that made us think the word "family" actually meant "stress", it's so lovely to find that word can actually mean a lot of really great things. It also means we realize how lucky we are. At some point last week we saw a guy who looked to be in his mid-30s with a black t-shirt that showed a couple getting married. The male in the picture had a ball and chain around his ankle and it read "The Party is Over". My husband saw the shirt, then my face, and immediately moved to pat my back and say, "I know. I know," in a soothing manner. That kind of thing is insulting to me on a variety of levels, starting with the fact that our culture doesn't require marriage in the same way as it used to and therefore it doesn't need to be any kind of ball-and-chain obligation and ending somewhere around the fact that there are plenty of gay couples who would like nothing more than to be married and are denied the right. In the end, though, I suppose what I feel most for people with an attitude like that is pity because they will always associate marriage and family with negative things and therefore miss out on the good stuff. Those people will never feel that getting lucky will mean anything more than winning some money.

Spending a nice chunk of uninterrupted time like that together can't be beat as far as my family is concerned. So the trip was supposed to be a gift for my daughter, but really, it was a gift for all of us. Now I'm thinking it would be great to make the every-5-years a tradition and take her again when she turns 18. Even if we don't, it feels so great to think that we could probably take her camping for a week when she turns 18 and we'd all get just as much out of it.

Next up: more specifics on what we actually did.

I Drive Myself Crazy, I Really Do

2009-05-12T17:06:20Z

I really hate this "I'm starved but nothing sounds good to eat" mood that I'm in. It leads to bad food choices. I'll try a little of this and a little of that, and nothing will quite hit the spot. So I'll have some additional this-n-thats and those won't work, either. In the end it seems like I could've done better with a plate of Fettucine Alfredo chased with some onion rings and beer and polished off with a large slice of chocolate cake as respects consumption of fat, salt, sugar, and non-refined foods. Yeesh!

The only thing working for me now is the Vanilla Ceylon Iced Tea I'm drinking (picked up a tin while in California last week). It's so good. So, sooooo good. Why can't I find the food equivalent of this tea to hit the spot right now?

I have a couple of good vacation stories to tell, so will be back for that soon. For now I'm off to try to find something good to eat, if such a thing exists.

It's so Gay!

2009-04-30T16:57:44Z

My husband saw a version of this Quiznos commercial for the first time last night.

Neither of us can believe this made it past the censors and we can't help but wonder: did the censors not get the innuendoes, or is our culture coming to an acceptance of homosexuality?

I Break this Radio Silence Just to Say...

2009-04-29T19:52:36Z

My carpal tunnel issue has been causing me some pretty intense pain lately, hence the extended absence here. I've started to think that Twitter might be more in my line right now since about 140 characters would be just about right for me to type at one time.

And it's not that there aren't things I'd like to be talking about - like what fun Candy Tan's reading and signing of Beyond Heaving Bosoms was at Powells recently. And how I couldn't think of a question until my drive home (natch). (I'll give you a hint about the question, it was inspired by these Dame Sally Markham sketches.) And how I got to meet up and chat with lilithsaintcrow and Meljean Brook and a few others. Candy told the story (thanks to a question asking for the "early warning signs" of a person getting into romance novels) of how she first read a romance and it was awful and she couldn't help but wonder at the intelligence of anyone who liked them - which is a pretty good parallel for my own first romance-reading experience - along with the subsequent revision of that opinion upon finally reading a good one. Candy read from the choose-your-own-adventure chapter of the book, which I highly recommend. (Not just that chapter mind you, but the entire thing.) The book is entertaining and true and the kind of thing I'd induce my husband to read, if it were truly possible to induce him to read anything. (He won't even read any of Wodehouse's Ukridge stories, just so you know what I'm up against here.)

There's also been my contemplation of impactful story endings and how they can be an important and significant in their own way as the first impression. I mean, obviously a book needs to give a first good impression or the reader won't give it much of a chance. But I find I hold stories with an ending that can't be improved upon - the kind that practically smack you upside the head they pack such a wallop and are just so perfect in their way - are the ones that keep me pondering a story for weeks thereafter, that make such an impression that there's never a question to myself of "did I read this or not?" when I come across it at some future point again, and that can even get me to hold off on reading or watching any other stories for awhile so I can really savor that one. And those are pretty rare, if you think about it. I mean, it's not as if any story that doesn't do that isn't worthwhile or terrific in its own way. It's just that those stories that can be terrific all the way through from start to finish yet hold back until the final moment what will elevate that story from damn good to genius don't come along all that often. Complicating it further is the fact that the elusive genius-making element is all in the eye of the beholder. For example, when I say that I find the endings of One Hundred Years of Solitude and My Antonia to be superlative, I can also acknowledge that other people may not find the endings to be anything special. But to me, the endings can't be improved upon, they were perfect for the stories, they had me just sitting there savoring them for a long while afterwards and made the next things I read or heard or saw pale and insignificant little things. Not many stories can do that, you must admit.

There's the amazonfail fiasco, which at the moment I'll only say astonishes me (since I don't have the hand power to say everything I'm thinking) from the point of view of their complete inability to handle the public and their perception of what happened and why. As a company completely founded and run within the internet age, and thus one would imagine more than savvy in knowing how the internet and its rumor mills works, it is utterly baffling how/why they *still* haven't made any overtures to the public. Utterly amazing.

There's also how my family is going to Disneyland next week to celebrate my baby's 13th birthday. Egads! 13! It just doesn't seem possible. My sweet little snuffling infant, always so ready to smile (except right after waking - can't say I can blame anyone for that), always wanting to be with her mom and dad, entering the snarling teen-age years where mom and dad are such idiots that it's some kind of miracle to her adolescent mind that we can walk and talk at the same time. Anyway. We've been planning on this particular celebration for years and booked/paid for the trip last year, which kind of worked both for and against us given the current economy. Nevertheless, we're all looking forward to it - not least because the weather is rumored to be quite warm and we're freezing here in Portland at the moment. I tell you, one is just not meant to be wearing 5 layers of clothes to a softball game, and that's what we've been doing about half the time this year.

OK, my hand it starting to cramp significantly, so time to pull the plug on myself. Back to reading old Agatha Christie mysteries and a book I picked up last week-end at Powells: Love My Rifle More than You. Here's the first sentence: "Sometimes even now, I wake up before dawn and forget I am not a slut". Sounds promising, no?

I'll just close by apologizing for my radio silence, which I suspect will be ongoing for awhile to come. It makes me feel a bit ghoulish, reading all of your posts, getting little insights into the goings-on in your lives while not saying anything myself. Just know I appreciate your posts, even if I'm not reciprocating in kind.

Well, That Was a Mistake

2009-03-25T14:36:20Z

I swam for about 20 minutes last night. I found I couldn't go anything above super-slow or it would hurt, so I kept it to super-slow and made my way up and down the lane for a short while, figuring I'd better see how the after-effects came on with a short and easy stint before going for a longer bout. It was nowhere near my usual aerobic level, but it felt good to just be moving, you know? Then I got out of the pool and holy cow! Insta-pain all over again. By the time I got home the whole foot, ankle, and lower part of my leg were on fire. I broke out the ice and kept that going throughout the night, but it's still throbbing. This is probably another scenario where being able to use Tylenol or Advil would come in real handy, but since I can't Plan B (aka suffering through) is my only option.

I think I may have set myself back a bit.

It's a mystery to me how this could have set it off so severely - like how I don't get why the shin splints hurt so much while running but didn't bother me at all with other activities that seemed just as hard on the legs. However, the why doesn't matter as much as the fact that it just *is*, so I need to deal with that.

I've been sitting here with a mug of tea and a baggie of ice for about 30 minutes. I'm still not too awake and my ankle still feels a if it's aflame (while throbbing to a nifty disco beat). Ugh. I'm usually at work by now and here I still am, not really sure what to do with myself.

Grrrr! I really hate not feeling 100%.

Because Life is a Barrel of Laughs

2009-03-24T20:14:42Z

When I was finally just about back up to speed with life and exercising and work and cleaning my house after the many weeks of nasty illness, I went and sprained my ankle about 10 days ago.

Step class was just getting going and the instructor was teaching us a new twist on a move where you leap over the step. I performed it fine the first few times. Then disaster! I was in the midst of my leap, didn't lift my right foot high enough, caught it on the step, and boom! Pain explosion. I knew instantly that it was the worst sprain I've ever suffered, and let me tell you, I've suffered several.

I'm not quite sure how I made it home since walking and driving were agonizing. I think it was only because the swelling and bruising hadn't made it to full fruition that I could hop to my car (at the far end of the lot, naturally), get myself home, then hop to the couch. I spent that Saturday and Sunday with a bag of ice and pillows to elevate, and by Monday things were not much better.

My doctor's office couldn't see me, so my husband took me to the emergency room. He grabbed a wheelchair and drove me up to the counter where someone waited to check me in. I nearly burst out laughing because the look on the receptionist guy's face was exactly like that episode of Little Britain (the U.S. version) where the medical receptionist watches an old man slowly make his way across the lobby with his walker, step by slow and painful step. She gets impatient that it's taking him so long, rolls her eyes, and exclaims, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" He finally makes it to the counter and tells her his name and appointment information. She pounds away at the computer keyboard, looks at him, and says, "Computer says no". All of that was absolutely broadcast on this man's face.

After the check in was the wait in the lobby. After the wait in the lobby was the wait in the examination room. After answering a few questions for the doctor and trainee was the wait for getting an x-ray. The x-ray technician came to get me and didn't believe I was the person indicated on his paperwork (per him, I don't look my age) and for a second there I thought I was going to be accused of medical fraud or something. He wheeled me to get x-rays, then there was the wait for those to develop. Then there was the wait for the doctor to look at them, decide she couldn't tell if there was a fracture or not, and call for a consult. This of course led to the wait for the consult until, at last, the diagnosis: severe sprain.

I never realized sprains could be this bad. There's swelling and bruising and pain, and that's even with staying off my feet. After the visit to the emergency room, my husband and I picked up some crutches for me, then I was back at home again. With the exception of that time out of the house on Monday, I was sitting around home from Saturday morning until the following Thursday morning. It still hurt significantly and driving is still complete torture, but I couldn't take the boredom any more so worked most of Thursday and Friday last week.

I had been planning to be off most of this week as it is spring break and my daughter was counting on me being with her so didn't make other arrangements. When I suggested the possibility of maybe perhaps taking half days this week since I'd been out unexpectedly last week, the reaction was as if I'd not shown up for work one day then re-appeared 6 months later with no explanation and every expectation that my job would still be there waiting for me. Guess that means no for using my carry over vacation time.

Recovery is apparently going to take at least a month. Grrr. Years ago I read an interview of The Edge where he talked about how he gets this build up of adrenaline before performing and when on the road, finds there's a cycle to it where nearly every day he's practically abuzz with the need to do something dramatic about the time they'd usually take the stage, even on days with no shows. Once the tour is over, that adrenaline build up still happens for awhile and he feels like he's losing his mind (and can be difficult to live with) every night. I think I'm feeling some version of that with not being able to exercise. I feel this nearly constant kind of buzzing - sort of like when you have too much caffeine or sugar - that has me practically bouncing in my seat. And I have no outlet for it. I did limp around and lift weights last Saturday morning in the hopes that it would take the edge off the buzzing. It kind of helped. I intended to go back again last night, but after a visit to the dentist had a rip roaring headache so lazed on the couch instead. I'll try again tonight. I'm not sure what else I can do. Swimming, perhaps? I don't know what else to try for an aerobic kind of outlet that doesn't call for putting any weight on one foot. I'm not much of a swimmer, but it's definitely better than doing nothing.

So far I can't say I'm all that impressed with 2009.

What's the Cure for This?

2009-03-13T19:37:25Z

It's a Friday afternoon. I've got plenty to do. I don't want to do any of it.

And I'm bored.