Me. As Kenneth the Page.

*Quick disclaimer to these pics. Whenever you see a pic posted where my upper lip looks to be gone, it's because I'm making my favorite expression: The Lipless Grin. It takes much practice to tuck that sucker up under there, but I've mastered it. So has Sharon. Oh, and also re: how I'm standing in that last one. It's how I stand much of the time, same as my Dad, one leg up high resting on the other knee. I assume we were Lebanese shepherds in past lives. Moving on:

I usually catch the cooking bug on Sundays and today was no exception. Uh, I'll ignore the fact that sentence was written by a Grams and keep going. After din (tried a super yum sauteed broccoli recipe if anyone wants) we watched some 30 Rock Season Dos. Midway through, I suddenly had to use up the piles of blueberries I bought yesterday. Muffin time! Or as Jenna says, Muffin Top time. Wow, you're hating this post if you don't watch that show. Your bad!

Clay took a bunch of pics while I acted the fool I am, unawares I was actually being videotaped. As he said "It's only fair you show your readers who you really are." So yep. This is me.

Coupons and Curtains and Craigslist

I keep forgetting to buy the Sunday paper so I can clip coupons and celebrate the recession. Clay remembered for me this morning and brought one home. Looks like I've got cheap Cheerios, apple sauce and razors coming my way; I will be passing on the cheap Skippy.

Confused by green sports page. (Shirt from last year's birthday trip to Love in Vegas. If you are there, if you love the Beatles = G-O.)

You may remember back in April when I tried to hem our curtains. It was sad. Clay took on the project today while I sat back, snapped pictures, and watched Murder She Wrote.

I've been whining about needing a dresser for a few days (months) now. Our place is so small we're loathe to bring in big pieces of furniture, but we finally decided the floor wasn't cutting it for sweater storage. Also loathe to deck out our place in exclusive Ikeachic, Clay found a Mid-Centch gem on Craigslist; a smelly Dutch lady delivered it via Subaru this morning. I'm insanely pleased with it.

(Please note the "houses" across the street. We're thinking of applying for a butler/maid Remains of the Day situation.)

Our bedroom. We sleep inside cozy gray walls, beside vintage tables, under a quilt made by Clay's aunt Sharon. Also featured: The new old dresser (!), newly hemmed curtains, Ikea platform bed. If I knew how to take pictures, you'd see the bay through the window.

We like it here.

g.i.s.t. day 16

1. using clay's foot as a phone. i've made some very important calls this way.

2. salt. lots and lots and lots of salt.

3. getting picked for the traveling basketball team in 6th grade and wearing a shirt with my last name on the back.

4. a full gas tank.

5. fried eggs on top of buttered toast.

I'm not one for poetry, really

But I think of this one - a poem I read my sophomore year "abroad" at James Madison U - and smile each time I go grocery shopping.

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

-William Carlos Williams

Farmer's Market Morning.

Holding our cheese and olive bread wares, unable to pose like a normal person, numb legs because I insist on wearing potato sack sundresses in January, poncho in full effect. Oh, and our sweet ride, battery re-charged, finally back in action.

g.i.s.t. day 15

*make your own library card catalog fakey here!

So it looks like Thursdays are going to be rough.

I'll call them School Hangover Days and will love them as my own. I chugged along pretty well through my Tuesday and Wednesday (both days' schedule = work 9-2, school 3:00-8:30) but felt like a truck hit me in the face most of Thursday. Where is my be-loved Dunkin Donuts when I need it most? Bum.

But school, school. So as I typed, I’m taking four Early Childhood Education classes at City College. Not sure it’s recommended to take them all at once (more than one professor raised an eyebrow), but that’s the quickest way to get licensed/get a job so that’s how I’m rolling. I’d like to go into what each class is called/about, but frankly... it’s a little unclear. One is definitely about curriculum planning. Another is about families and students of different cultures/races/sexual orientations – and maybe how to handle them? The other two cover different program philosophies and seem 90% interchangeable. But each unit costs 20 dolla so who am I to judge?

The main difference, so far, between my classes here and my classes at BU was the moment I opened the syllabuses the first time. At BU I suffered a mini (major) panic attack each and every time. That school’s got some chip on its shoulder re: ranking and won’t be happy until every student is buried in work and getting straight C’s. This round, I open up and can’t find anything worth an extra blink. It’s a lot of “reflective journal entries” and “group discussion assessments” sprinkled with some “article reading”. Basically, if you show up for class and give half a damn (a third of a damn?), you’ll do well. Refreshing! But also weird.

The next noticeable difference is the level of diversity. BU had a good mix of ethnicities/cultures, but close to zero mix of socio-economic status. Sure, you’d have a Chinese, Greek, or Nigerian kid in your class – but they all had cash. Things are different here. At BU I was semi-poor, here I’m a baller. And I’m finding out both extremes make me uncomfortable. I’m also only one of two or three white kids in the class - which is a trip. One ice-breaker had us searching for someone with the same eye color; being the kid with blue eyes left me fairly lonely. I think we heart-bleeder types think we're relaxed with all people from all walks of life, but this is definitely forcing me to get comfortable in new ways. It’s good.

One teacher described CCSF’s ECE classes as “half academic, half vocational” and I wholeheartedly agree. It’s super hands on and really aimed at alternative learners. I’m not an alternative learner. I like lectures, I like writing assignments, I like solo projects. Sitting around in a group and drawing pictures on construction paper makes me suicidal. This could be a problem.

But a powerful difference is how excited and invested my teachers are. And how smart and experienced and with it they are. During undergrad I had quite a few fantastic professors (David Somers? I’m talking to you, handsome), but also quite a few professors who didn’t give a damn about teaching. They were there for research, please leave them alone and ask the T.A any questions. Pretty sure this won’t happen at CCSF. I think if you’re there, you’re there to teach. It makes a difference.

And what’s the same across all my educational experiences everywhere? How effing impatient I get with other students. I’d really prefer it be me and the teacher alone in a room with some coffee and cheese snacks. I lose my shit when people ask inane questions and honestly, that seems like what most of most classes are: Other students opening their mouths when they shouldn’t. But er, this is my issue, right? And since it hasn't been solved since third grade, I obviously need to work a little harder. Ahem.

So! Those are some quick-ish thoughts on things and stuff. Since these classes go for eighteen weeks (choke) there’ll be a lot more where that came from. Lucky!

a bio

So I was going to launch into a full blown rundown of the classes I started this week, but then I realized it's all a little confusing, even to me, and maybe I owe everyone, even me, a debrief of how I got here.

Before you start, let's just say I'm great at committing to one dude, not so great at committing to one career. We'll start in 2004:

After getting a BA in psych, which qualified me to do nothing, I worked with autistic kids for a year, burnt out, snagged a job in publishing. Started as receptionist (soul killing work - be nice to the ones you meet), moved up to sales coordinator, met a lot of my favorite YA authors - and Bill Ayers! - took the coolness for granted.

Quit that job after a year, acted in a play my friends wrote/directed. I wore handcuffs, kissed/groped a girl, and appeared in my underwears. Fun, but turned me off acting (again) - just not good for me to spend that much time thinking about me.

Moved to Caifornia, interned at a yoga magazine, interned at McSweeney's, nannied a baby whose mom was so neurotic she didn't bathe him and he smelled bad. I didn't know babies could smell bad. Somehow got a job at a schmancy advertising agency, worked my ass off, got promoted over champagne, quit because I was spending more time crying in the bathroom than at my desk.

Spent seven months not working. Got my soul back, planned my wedding, went on long walks, picked wildflowers, read books. Missed people, missed moneys, got a job here filling in for a woman on maternity leave thru March. Took a trip home, freaked out to mom about my career, discussed my love for kids/creativity/literacy, decided I'd take some early education classes and go from there. And so tada. I'm taking the four core classes - which will qualify me for preschool jobs - and working hard for the money.

The community college experience is so different from the private university experience I don't know where to begin. And nope, it's not a simple comparison, one better than the other. Which is surprising - to me, at least. I've got lots to say, but I'm beyond sleepy and still have to write about my five happy things. I'll write about classes tomorrow, mmkah? Mmkah.

But let me just leave you with this, the heading to a poster some students made today:

"It takes a villagge to raise a child."

It also takes a dictionary.

1. my last class being in a great part of the mission. lots of foodz to try.

2. the six month old canadian candy bar from my honeymoon i found during class, just before passing out from hunger.

3. julie andrews singing this song. just try and stay in a bad mood, you.

4. how well i sleep when i don't nap + overcaffeinate

5. frozen grapes

g.i.s.t. day 13

1. my city college teacher (i'll write about classes soon), who's canceling class next tuesday because of the obama inauguration.

2. this program which turns your regular fotos into "polaroid" fotos. like this!




3. running out of sugar cubes at work, using honey instead and realizing: honey tastes better.

4. subarus.

5. black olives on my sandwiches.

g.i.s.t. day 12

1. saying "yes" to "would you like it toasted?" at subway. oh, it's good!

2. liking my hair color after i finally stopped dyeing it.

3. google chat on my blackberry.

4. swimming in walden pond.

5. the day i got my braces off: january 30th, 1997. still feels like a treat when i run my tongue across my teeth.

to prove we actually rode them horsies

aww. cc. his horse's name was baldy.

this was my "lesson" -- she helped me up and handed me the reins. i didn't like her teeth.

that's moi second from the back, and cc ahead of me. originally we had a horse in between us, but mine fell in love with his and cut the line. then proceeded to try and bite his horse's bum the whole rest of the ride. wish i could say our relationship was much different.

g.i.s.t. day 11

1. not dying today. (see horseback riding post below.)

2. fountain cokes when the syrup is in perfect proportion to the water. and really bubbly.

3. when niles finally tells daphne he loves her.

4. the first time i realized i didn't want the book i was reading to end. third grade, my living room, the secret garden.

5. hugh laurie.

the last time i went horseback riding

i was twelve and vacationing with my fam on prince edward island. (yes, we're wasps - mmkah?) the whole thing must have been fairly uneventful because i hold only vague memories of it.

so when casey and steve invited us and 10 others for a day of brunching and riding, we said why the hay not? (you caught that, right?)

we trekked our vw across the golden gate into the north bay where the weather was insane - low 70's, super blue skies, venti cups of sunshine. we stopped at point reyes station, a sleepy little town i wanted to pedal around in a beach cruiser, picking wildflowers and staring into space. instead, i ate a tuna melt, drank a coke, and followed the caravan down to the horse ranch.

i wasn't nervous until i actually saw the horses. they weren't ponies, people, they were, like, real horses. did you know this? that they put untrained people onto big horses and tell you go? i know i'm all americanized and wimpy, but where was my lesson? they really shouldn't trust me so much.

we started out slow, which was mellow and thumbs up with me. but then our leader made us pick up speed and trot and oh dear mother of god this was not okay. i don't advertise the fact, but i've got almost no junk in my trunk - flat bum city. so up and down and up and down onto my skin and boney bones = !? then i'd shift a little and slam down onto my lady bits and that hurt even worse, like a razor blade punch. i kept up a constant soundtrack of moan/hiccup/laugh/scream, but i guess nobody cared that i can't bear children now? so i had to keep going.

and we weren't galloping through open fields, smoking marlboros, getting tans. no, we were nestled in the deep, dark redwoods, riding up and down alongside huge, steep ravines. as in, your horse spooks, slips and bye!

add to this the riding instructor who says, as we're pulling away from the ranch:

"ooo-eee. hope we don't see any bicycles today! if we see one, your horse will freak."

and the little girl who pet my horse - named jesse - after i got on and said to me:

"jesse ran over me last week."

um? mom?

but when we slowed down and i made myself stop thinking about lance armstrong dropping by and our whole herd sprinting for the border, i actually enjoyed myself. it was very cowgirl klompety klomp relaxing through greens and i loved the crew i was with - mostly new to me and just v fun and funny. plus, it was so california, so mmm to get all that fresh air and so 2009 to do something i wouldn't usually do.

a few pics below, the full set (with captions by cc) here:


steve and me wearing our helmets. the only ones who did, i might add. you're welcome, parents!

cover shot for horse fancy.

this involuntary fear pose is why loved ones tell me i look like a turtle. (and my boots in action! don't i kind of look like a boarding school horse girl type? just say yes.)


thanks, casey and crew, for dragging our lazy asses out of the hatch!

g.i.s.t. day 10

1. a long and sunny walk with manjiri and her super delicious, 4-weeks-old dude! (i'm sorry east coast family of mine, but it became even clearer to me today how much i'll need sunshine and a snow-free ground to handle motherhood...)

2. cc talking me down from a bread-making-disaster cliff. was near tears, scooping up spilled honey with my palm, and about to throw the whole mess into the trash, when he suggested we treat this as a "practice loaf" and keep going. (something about it "not counting" made me stop hyperventilating...i'm five, i know.) and now it's all puffy and golden brown and smelling yummy in the oven.

3. lincoln park after dark opi nail polish.

4. the little plate we made and shared on the couch: dark chocolate, dried apricots, aged parm slices and sf wildflower honey. um drool.

5. whopper juniors with cheese.

a tad morbid, but

if i could find a vintage print/page of this:

i would party.

it's from the gashlycrumb tinies by edward gorey, a book i've worshipped since doing my johnny tremain homework on friday nights in seventh grade while everyone else drank wine coolers at megan bettancourt's. but i digress. can't you just picture it all framed up and keeping me company while i type? yup!

in other news, i've become a little obsessed with bleach. after the poisoning incident, i went all crazy up in here with some germ killing action. i think you're supposed to mix it with water and spray from a bottle, but i just opened up the jug and started pouring. all over the countertop, stovetop, sink, sponges, pepper shaker. i even tried to convince cc bleach was a "great hand wash!" until he asked me to feel my hands and i said:

"oh. paper."

g.i.s.t. day 9

1. my new liz lemon-y glasses:

cc and i had to pick some out, quick like bunnies, to use our benefits before the new year. i wasn't finding any i liked, till a sassy asian mom lady at costco handed me this pair and said: "these." and so it was.

2. feeling brave and riding the bus sitting backwards today. never do because it makes me sick, but ooo-eee it's like a urine-scented rollercoaster with views of the bay if you can stomach it.

3. doughnuts.

4. hiding in a work hallway and catching up with one of my besties over the phone who just had a baby. laughed so hard i snorted.

5. that time cc let me punch him in the arm really hard when i was really mad at someone else.

this morning

cc: "so i stepped on a mini wheat this morning. right there." points to bathroom floor.

me: looks left, looks right.

...

me: "sometimes i need a cereal snack in the middle of the night."

cc: "and then one fell out of your mouth?"

...

me: "maybe."

g.i.s.t. day 8

1. shoving handful upon fistful of cool ranch doritos into my pie hole. casey and steve, our handsome hosts for the evening, bought me a bag after reading about my lurve for them here. man, did i feel spesh. and full. thanks boys!

2. my first physical therapy appointment this afternoon. my lower back and right leg have been all sorts of messed up for years and i'm finally doing something about it. they're not sure what the exact issue is yet - i'll probably need some x-rays - but it's oddly satisfying to get professional validation that stuff is effed. oh, and the massage. the massage was beautiful.

3. the ginger peach black tea mom put in my stocking. one sugar cube, splash of 2%, heaven.

4. my new slow cooker from cc's mom! last night i threw in steelcut oats, craisins, water and vanilla and woke up to a creamy/yummy/healthy brekky. (and cc liked it, too.) so simp and so good. thanks cindy!

5. the boxed filled with xmas goodies we packed up in massachusetts arriving today. specifically the jesus christ superstar album inside, hijacked from my living room, currently crackling away on my record player. what's up, 1971?

thank you for your votes

i've looked over the poll results, consulted with the committee*, and have decided upon the following selections for my Day of Sadness:

1. schindler's list
2. terms of endearment
3. brokeback mountain
4. sophie's choice
5. a to-be-determined sad kid's movie (dumbo or fox and the hound or old yeller) to end things on a "lighter" note

just looking at that list gives me a panic attack; cc will have to barricade the doors to keep me from running. and i know there are more, i know this is just the tip o' the sad things iceberg, but i've gots to start somewhere, no?

thanks again for all your suggestions (sorry there wasn't room for rush hour, nik - at least not this round) and i'll keep you posted on how it goes down.

*cc and i like to reference "the committee" when one or the other of us is acting up. "the committee and i have been discussing your recent leaving-the-coffee-machine-on behaviors. and we're looking into revoking your privileges." etc.

g.i.s.t. day 7

1. cc home a day early!

2. my new, insanely effective massaging chair cushion craziness that cc got me for christmas but which arrived a little late. it's got heat and super aggressive kneading action and oh mama oh wow.

3. cool ranch doritos. these were a super-treat when i was little and i still think of them that way. can't remember the last time i ate one, but i know it must have been a good day.

4. bell-bottoms. when they're designed right, they make girls with hips (me) and skinny legs (me) look foxy. and i love how boots look underneath them.

5. how cutting open a grapefuit smells like my grandmother's house in the winter.

i should have known not to sit there.

his enormous, eighties trench coat was taking up its own seat and he didn't move it until i stood and pointed. he had frat boy hair, smelled like an idiot and sat with his legs spread wide. i very carefully chose a man to marry who crosses his legs when he sits - since the cowboy, bulge-visible-to-all stance makes me dry heave. these things are crucial to life long happiness.

but back to douche bag. he was also jabbering, much too loudly for san francisco bus ettiquete, on his cell:

hey hey hey! yeah yeah dude, it's the WAGS! so just wanted to let you know i'll be in tahoe on friday. and i'm bringing the FUN! and by FUN i mean LIQUOR! i can guarantee you won't be sober THIS weekend! what's that? you've gotta go? okay! see you on FRIDAY!

at this point, i've moved my body so far away from him and towards the window it looks like i'm ready to propose.

he sits still for 30 seconds, taps his foot. thumps his leg. dials phone again.

hey hey hey! yeah dawg, it's WAGMAN! dude, how messed UP were we last night? in the past 72 hours, i've slept like 6. i mean take THAT '09! oh - what's that? you've gotta go? oh - okay, dude! LATER!

i slowly swivel my head to the right and stare. i send thoughts of evil and death and spitting. i think he starts to feel them. his leg is tapping, but he's not dialing. i think i see a rivulet of sweat descend his cro-magnon brow. suddenly, the phone rings in his hands. he's ecstatic.

WAGGY here! oh. oh hello. yes, this is matthew waggerston. oh. oh i see. seven thousand you say? um. let me - let me get right back to you.

hangs up, hangs head. dials phone.

hey mom? i - i need to talk to dad about his credit card.

g.i.s.t. day 6

1. super salty, shelled sunflower seeds in those skinny tall bags.

2. my tiny, old-fashioned elementary school. boys walked in one door, girls another. we ate lunch in the classroom and got to walk around in our socks.

3. discovering you love a tv show that's long been over. then realizing there's lots and lots of seasons to get thru - and you've got access to 'em all. (currently: the rockford files.* genius.)

4. our ups guy. dedication in brown!

5. turkey bacon, not too crunchy.

*i first heard mention of this show in tenth grade, whilst listening over and over and over and over to this song in my bedroom after getting dumped by a pot head.

tell me the movies that make you cry

see, there's a few major ones i've been putting off watching because i'm afraid of losing all my tears and my head exploding and my mood falling onto the floor and hiding under the couch for three days.

but i've got to see them, can't call myself a person-who-knows-stuff without.

so over christmas, i started compiling a list with my family. my thinking is this: i'll choose one day, a day when externally things are going just fine and i'm not feeling particuarly thundercloudy otherwise, and binge on all the sad at once. just like boom boom boom.

since i'd be sad just watching one, why not be really really sad watching a bunch and then whew, done, finito, let's get back to the musicals?

so i've got a few definites, but i want to see what you guys come up with before i tell you mine. to see which ones i've missed. and don't assume i've seen it, no matter how obvious. because i really do avoid sad movies at all costs. the basic criteria:

• really sad. (here's a directional hint: sophie's choice has already made the cut.)
• not stupid.
• could be described by that all subjective word: "classic" (a little help: citizen kane is classic. but so also is the breakfast club. i'm not strict, just discerning.)

and that about sums it up! make me weep, people.

an extra for today

6. memories, of walks and manicures and secret spot lunches with mc, that find me everyday.

g.i.s.t. day 5

1. the multiple three minute, sitting up cat naps i pulled off during today's four hour office regroup meeting.

2. snagging a parking spot on lombard during rush hour - allowing me to run into fedex and pick up my order without fearing for my car's life.

3. the mini grilled cheese sammies served up to me on trays post-meeting.

4. how i forgot an umbrella today and it was supposed to rain all day but didn't.

5. 2% milk with my tea.

it's good i stopped acting because

i'd be the worst even slightly-famous person ever. i’ve increasingly been revisiting my sixth grade boycott on bras outside the home (my mom would check that i had one on, i’d scurry to the bus stop and take it off before the bus came. you’re welcome 12 year old boys!) and very often when i see someone i know – especially during my commute - i try to hide. super gregory house misanthropic of me, i know. it’s just that i have specific rituals i like to follow and get all disjointed when they’re interrupted.

basically i need to: listen to my music and stare out the window and not talk. i also like to wipe any expression off my face and stare blankly and maybe look a little angry. it keeps away stalkers – i’ve never had one and am sadly proud - and discourages any gratuitous conversation. unfortunately, it seems to encourage old men to tell me to cheer up! then i punch them.

this morning i got an aisle seat and settled in for the ride. midway through, as i was taking a quick break from staring, i looked down and recognized the shoes beside me. with a quick glance up, i confirmed my suspicions: an ex coworker. one that made me cry the day i had an ear infection and couldn't finish a chart on time. no way was i spending the next 20 minutes making awkward small talk chit chat while she stood and i sat, losing valuable slack jaw time. so i pushed my hair in front of my face (thanks bangs!) and looked down at my lap and prayed for anonymity.

two stops before mine she hopped off, snapping open her umbrella against the rain and ignorant to my presence. or maybe just happy she avoided me, too.

grace in small things: day 4

1. comic books. i used to get them in the mail, but i want to get into the comic store culture: showing up once a week to collect my picks, chat villains, getting dumped by girls, etc.

2. sleeping with the windows open.

3. when ben kisses felicity for the first time.

4. cinnamon and sugar pre-mixed in a handy shaker.

5. the rooms, the ocean, the lattes at shutters in santa monica. one of like three things i miss about my advertising job.

ode to salmonella

if you spend more than a few hours with cc you'll witness his very successful, monogamous relationship with the internets. they've been into each other for years, with a strength that endures. it's a love that inspires.

or so i thought.

jan one, the day after i poisoned us both with undercooked new years eve chicken, was the first time i've seen cc stray. i knew something was terribly wrong when he left his laptop cold and charged on the carpet and chose to watch the parrots of telegraph hill instead. before he puked his lung up, whimpered and passed out for the twelfth time since noon.

and while i didn't feel my hottest, he was definitely in a much worse spot. so i did a little nurse routine, thermometer/chicken soup/cold compress/heating pad and threw him lots of worried faces. eventually, around 7, he gave up on the life of the living (watching law and order criminal intent) and went to bed. he slept for 15 hours and woke up chipper and interwebz ready. bye bye poison!

or so i thought.

because while i haven't attained the extreme levels of miserableness my poor hubs trudged through along that oregon trail, things have been decidedly... not right inside my tum tum since thursday. i tell myself i'm fine, it's all in my head but then er uh ow stop no okay sob. so while cc's body decided to face the bad stuff head-on with a jets v sharks rumble, mine has opted to fight a longer, less cinematically worthy battle, more like a bullied middle schooler stuffed in trash cans and crippled by wedgies.

g.i.s.t. day 3

1. finishing my second draft today. take that, procrastination fairy. ha-cha!

2. tiny, flexy vacuum cleaners that really suck up all those hairballs that fell off my head.

3. p.d. james' autobiography. the first ten pages made me jump to my computer and get typing.

4. cc pretending to be scared or cold, knocking his knees. the cuteness can't be explained.

5. dunkin donuts french vanilla ground coffee, purchasable at safeway and drinkable on my couch.

g.i.s.t. day 2 (and boot fotos!)

1. my new boots!

(real-life action shot pics for you, sharon. the first is me standing on the toilet because that's how i get full-length views of myself. it's also good quad exercise. but seriously, these boots? they're like butt-ah.)

2. my teeny tiny engine-that-could windowsill herb garden.

3. all those dance and music classes i got to take age 3 through 18 even when money was tight.

4. deluxe town diner pancakes. slight crunch on the outside, soft on the inside, sugar crystals throughout. and now you can buy the mix online. bl-iss.

5. the pine tree and sliver of bay i can see through our window if i sit in just the right spot.

grace in small things

i just found this a few minutes after i wrote my last post and liked it. and since one of my umbrella items is being more grateful, i'm going to do it: write up five things everyday for a year that have graced me (sounds semi-religious but i'm rolling with it) or that i'm grateful for. small/big/silly/strange. i even put a pretty little button from the schmutzie site over to your left. so i remember and stuff.

i imagine i'll like it and when i'm feeling thundercloudy it might help. and since poor cc has been passed out all day from some awful stomach bug/flu/fever (for some reason he didn't laugh when, pressing a cold washcloth to his forehead, i said: "clay died from a snakebite" ala oregon trail. harumph. sickies have no sense of humor.) and since it's still jan one over on the west coast i'll start tonight.

okey doke:

1. gatorade. all flavors.

2. my noise-canceling headphones.

3. cc's unrelenting quest to make this apartment work.

4. gerald mcraney in 1982. rrrrrrrrrrr.

5. the aveda face wash bars i pilfered from our hawaii hotel and just found.

happy oh nine!

firstly, happy new year! hope you had fun, whether it was eating blueberry sauce on the couch (us) or taking tequila shots and playing journey when the ball dropped (mike neighbor).

a little sad to say goodbye to such a solid set of twelve months, but optimistic for the ones ahead.

i was working on a long list of super specific resolutions to type out here, but nah. i've already got a constant ticker running of things i want to do and change and learn (zen! sign language! brioche! black belt!) and bleh - it can get manic. for me, for this year, i'm just focusing on:

simp-li-fy.

that's my umbrella to stand under for the year. the following will be under that umbrella with me:

focus on the few things i really want to do. and do them.
eliminate clutter. all kinds.
more quality, less quantity.
stop drumming up drama.
less worrying.
more grateful.

i listed it up after all, but this one makes me feel bouncy instead of holy what have i signed up for.

off we go!

i've been obsessed with boots

for a long while. five years ago it was uggs (still rocking them, still don't listen to the haters), four point five years ago it was cowboy boots (still wear these many times a week, still grateful that awful trendy phase has passed) and then four years ago i became obsessed with finding a PERFECT FLAT LEATHER BOOT.

they'd look a little different from the norm, make me feel like an elf, and go with everything.

but they were nowhere to be found. and whenever i'd finally track down an acceptable pair, they'd be twelve jillion dollars and too pradalicious for my tastes. yet i didn't give up hope. i searched and hunted and stalked and obsessed and along the way purchased a whole slew of not-quality almost-but-not-quites. (the calf was too fat, the zipper bunchy, the color too astronautish.)

in the past couple years this flat boot thing has really taken off. especially in san francisco, especially in my current office. while i still enjoy the look, they are by no means spesh anymore. dime a doz, left and right.

but cc, who's lived through all my boot trial and tribulations, was determined this christmas season to help find (and fund) me my treasure boots (to go with my treasure pants) and put out, once and for all, the fire that's burned my innards for months and years.

i wanted to wait till after the big day to avoid crowds and find some sales, so yesterday we hit the stores, scoured the racks, peed in lots of public restrooms. (what in the hell is wrong with women, btw? why is every single toilet seat covered in urine? are we not ladies, ladies? dee-sgust.)

and after all our research, i learned something important, friends. something i hadn't realized from simply perusing ebay four hours a day for four years: i'm after a little something different than i thought i was. something a little more solid, a little more classic, a little more this-will-hurt-if-i-kick-you.

and so, behold! the frye boots i just ordered! that will arrive in 2-3 days! that i will wear over and over and over again, over pants and under dresses and through rain and fog, and will kiss goodnight and make coffee for every morning!






thank you, dearest hubs, for making my dreamiest, bootiest dreams come true.

a girl definitely wrote this post

back when i was really skinny, back in the high school and college years, contrary to popular public opinion, there wasn't an eating disorder involved. just an overall lack of appetite, an overall lack of food interest. it's hard to explain/remember because i certainly don't have this issue now, but lots of times i just didn't get hungry. and when i did, a few bites of whatever i could find would fill me up.

the thing is, i wasn't really happy with how i operated. i knew i was too thin - i was cold all the time, sick all the time - and going out to dinner with friends or dates was embarrassing. i wanted to eat like a real person - cram a few pieces of pizza down my face then beg for an ice cream cone. but most of the time i felt too nauseated to even pretend. of course people assumed i was hungry but denying myself - which really helped female friendship relations. i'm not entirely sure what the deal was, but i know it had something to do with my underlying anxiety issues. because while some people shove packs of twizzlers down their throat when they worry, i had the opposite reaction.

back in those days, i lived in a mild state of panic - butterflies in my stomach, dizzy spells on the subway - and it constantly undermined my appetite. when something bigger happened - a breakup, a move, whatever - instead of just the annoying minutia of everyday life, i would completely lose the ability to eat for days on end. and it scared the shit out of me. this wasn't a "i need control over this largely uncontrollable situation so i'm controlling my calories by not eating but i'm really starving" thing. i had no hunger rumbles in my stomach and couldn't swallow food without gagging.

the end of my freshman year of college i created some intense drama for myself, a dawson's creek scene involving breaking up a four-year-long senior couple and cheating on my clueless macrobiotic boyfriend away in connecticut. it was thrilling and sexy and nuts, but the whole thing also filled me with guilt and terror. i barely ate for eleven days and was convinced i would die. (i didn't.)

after many more scenes like this, where i subsisted exclusively on boullion cubes and tea, i slowly pulled my act together - through therapy and thinking and yoga and walking - and got down to eating. i don't suffer from the panic anymore, (obsessive worrying? yes. thundercloud depression at times? yes. panic? not really.) which means i don't suffer from the appetite suckage.

it also means i go home for christmas now and step on the scale and faint because i weigh a full twenty more pounds than i did back then. i left the bathroom and immediately put away the mashed potatoes i'd heated in the microwave and pouted on the couch.

because while i'm happier now, the weight gain is still complicated.

i wasn't healthy then and i wasn't loving food then and i was that girl people resented then because i was skinny. because people are crazy and think that skinny = ecstasy. (wrong, wrong, wrongness.) and it was just such a thing, such a defining feature of who i was. which is creepy. i love (love) to eat now, i love that i can eat a huge, fatty meal and still want dessert, i love that the first thing people say when they see me isn't "you're wasting away!"

so for the most part, for the stuff that matters, i'm sticking with what i've got going on. i'm a fox and i work it.

but i know i could/should exercise more, and i don't need to eat quite so many grilled cheese sandwiches or drink quite so many glasses of grape juice. (and that's not "grape juice" meaning wine, that's grape juice as in the official drink of kindergarten.) and the sad truth is, i know i'd feel a little better if i were a little thinner. but i hate even typing that, hate that i even care, hate that i have to give up some of that food bliss that was so hard won.

as my mom and i like to say: poor humans.

some ho-ho-ho highlights

well hello! it's been a few days, hasn't it? i hope you all had a relaxing and goody-getting holiday week. the hubs and i traveled afar to the wilds of massachusetts for christmastime funz and yesterday returned to the strangely-not-much-warmer bay area. we had a lovely time filled with turkey and cranium whippings and delicious babies and boomerangs lost in the snow.

would you like to see a few fotos?

okay!



my little brother is into barefoot running. but that type of thing doesn't exactly go hand-in-hand with snow and salt and ice and such sooooo - he asked for these strange rubber ape-foot things that make it feel like you're running sans shoes but give you protection. i think we can safely assume we were the only house on the block opening these puppies up.


again - pretty sure i'm the only kid on the block making an expression of pure joy/disbelief/ecstasy over a cd-on-tape narrated by hugh laurie. swooooooooooooooooooon. (p.s. these are what my bangs look like now. i think i like them more side-sweepy like this vs. straight-hanging-down. but we'll see.)

that's cc with the coffee cup i bought him. (in a presh target shirt we found in texas. me heart.) you were thinking he just went to 'bucks and ordered a grande, right? you're wrong! it's a ceramic cup made to look like paper one. sn-ap.

my lil bro also received a boomerang because, well, he asked for one. this is cc and t in our driveway about to throw it...

uh. and then it was gone.

still gone. crocodile dundee we are not.

after opening presents at home, we headed up to my cousin christie's brand spanking new house for a family par-tee and gift exchange. we really had a fun time and i loved getting to see everyone at once - just wish it was for longer. here's cc helping the little ladies and little man put together a crazy game with lots of sticks they eventually stuck inside my ear.

um. heart = stopped. cc holding christie's brand spanking new baby girl libby. she.is.perfect. made my uterus do somersaults.

i thought i'd zoom in so you could see 1) HOW CUTE THIS BABY IS. 2) them holding hands. 3) her foot in his hand. he's a natural, right? RIGHT?

cool shot cc took of my front yard/street before we headed back. bye bye home! hearts and waves.

the dude who lives downstairs

is named mike. we don't know his last name so we call him mike neighbor. it's actually pretty catchy if you say it enough times. try it!

about a year ago, mn was having a lot of funz smoking the dope and playing the reggae. just as i was getting cozy in my jams, snuggling under my covers with sherlock holmes and soy crisps, he was pumping the volume. a couple times i snuck down the stairs and sort of stared at his door before turning around and running upstairs quick like a bunny. it all seemed very freshman dorm and not in the fun, eat a pound of mozarella sticks every night from the late night cafeteria, way.

eventually i got cc to do my dirty work and talk to mn about his noise pollution. mn said he'd turn stuff off by 11 if i stopped jumping up and down by 11. i think this was in my tae bo days, but you don't have to ask me twice to stop exercising; a deal was a deal. and we had a really nice run of things, mr. neighbor and me.

but lately, he's creeping back into his old ways. liiiike right now, 12:12 in the a.m., he's got some serious surround sound action going and i can hear actual dialogue. i think it may be signourney, i think it might be alien, i think i have work in 8 hours.

it all feels too intimate, me knowing what he's watching on a wednesday night, probably in his own sets of jams. i already know what he's smoking, i can't handle anymore detail.

so if you'll excuse me, i've got some sneakers to put on and some hop scotching to inflict. bye!

a little known fact about cc,

who's generally cool as a cuke, is how afraid he is of me getting hurt. of course all (good) h'bands worry about their wives, but his is definitely kicked up a notch from the typical. (sorry to blow your cover, buddy.) i have a feeling it comes from how much he travels and the resulting inability to be here instantly if anything went wrong. but it spills over into lazy saturdays, too, when a big bottle of shampoo falls in the shower and he runs in to make sure it wasn't me biting the dust. ("you okay??") i'm the worrier in our relationship, so for him to have mini panic attacks over potential paper cuts makes me grin.

i'm not particularly clumsy, i don't think, so i'm usually rolling my eyes at (while secretly enjoying) his hand wringing. but i can be a bit, uh, hasty in my tasks and sometimes, suddenly, i'll get it.

like late last night, all ready for bed, in my sock monkey jammies, contacts out of eyeballs, hungry for a snack before zonking. i found a half-eaten loaf of french bread, grabbed a big serrated knife, and got to hacking. and cut right into my thumb. couldn't see a thing, but hell that hurt and the blood was aplenty. strike one for my left hand.

then today i'm in the office kitchen, mid-afternoon blood sugar/caffeine crash. i grab a handful of peanut m&ms and drop a tea bag into my mug. then proceed to pour the hot water directly onto my left hand, completely and inexplicably missing the cup. hurt like a bitch and i lost a bunch of m&ms to the floor. double whammy. strike two!

strike three hasn't happened - yet dum dum dum - but my left hand is super nervous and keeps hiding.

to tie this theme into my evening's activies, let me remind you of this spring when i read the novel twilight. i finished it and liked it fine, but only because the plot - human chick falls in love with vampire dude - was great; the writing made me hurl. (er, sorry ms. meyer, says aspiring young adult author on her public blog...)

one part i especially didn't get was edward's (the vamp) total obsession/dedication to bella (human). he'd get all angry at her because she wasn't careful and tripped a lot and might die. get a grip, ed.

but then! i saw the movie. and seeing his mini tantrums on screen totally reminded me of my own vampire and how worried he gets when i slip or drop a fork. it made me giggle like a tween. and it made total sense.

oh, also - this movie rocks! super true to the book in terms of plot, but about 152 times better. totally, utterly threw me for a loop that i liked it, but i did! and my writer friend who accompanied me tonight, and who's picky about similar things, also really dug it. run don't walk!

you know that old adage

(may or may not be the correct usage of this word) about boiling a frog slowly? as in, if you put a frog in lukewarm water and very slowly increase the heat he’ll just sort of hang there until he dies of boil-dom? many times i = frog.

like my sophomore year of high school. every morning I’d wake up and hop into the shower (not entirely true – I’ve always been an every-other-day type of gal, but you understand the use of hyperbole in narrative, don't you?) and soap up before beginning another day of algebra 2 and eating ice cream sandwiches from the vending machine.

at the beginning of the school year, the water pressure in said shower was fine. I didn’t really notice it one way or the other. hop in, hop out, put on my l.e.i. bell bottoms. as the year progressed, the water pressure very slowly, slowly, almost imperceptibly, became weaker. again – I just went with the flow. since my dad used the downstairs shower, and my mom takes baths (is this too much information on my family’s former bathing habits? apologies) and I have no idea what my little brother at age 11 was doing, there wasn’t much intra-family discussion on the water situation.

one morning I woke up, tho, and holy s*%t. one small drip of water was exiting from one of the shower head holes. one small drip. one hole. and it was cold. the scary thing is this seriously didn’t happen overnight, it had taken like six months to boil me.

eventually the plumber came in, checked out our situation, turned to my mom and said:

“you weren't living.” amen.

I bring this up, because I’ve had a slow simmer going in my lower back and right leg (simply put: b/c of the way I’m built and I move, my pelvis gets out of alignment, making one leg longer than the other, making everything along the way from knee to hip flexor to feet go into excrutiating spasms) for a long, long time. I was just starting to get it fixed 4.5 years ago before a trip to india. I thought the physical therapist would be able to fix it in a few visits, but after her assessment – come in once a week for lots of months, you’ve got lots of damage to reverse – I just got discouraged/bored. she’d made me feel better in the short term and in my just-graduated-from-college mindset, that was good enough.

but over the past 4.5 years, it’s gotten worse and worse, making me squirm on the couch and live with an electric heating pad down my pants. and since I almost popped a leftover-from-an-ear-infection vicodin before heading to work today and my name is not gregory house – it’s time to get some help. I’ve got an appointment lined up in two weeks and I’m looking forward to it more than christmas. (I kind of wanted to make a tiny tim joke there, but I couldn’t figure it out nor did it seem very nice.) the end.

as the new year approaches

i've really started to think re: life priorities.

and when i say life priorities, i mean the commencement of american idol in january and whether i'll find a way, sans cable, to watch it this year. i've followed the past seven seasons (hi, i'm old) with rabid (except the fantasia year, that was more along the lines of tepid) interest.

but dedication has been waning over the past couple years (there was nowhere to go but down - we used to tape - vhs - every song clay aiken sang...) and without my own cable i'd have to procure a fellow fan and then glom onto them and their couch twice a week? unlikely. also i'll be in classes tuesday and wednesday starting january. also that new songwriter judge chick is going to ruin everything.

hmm. thank you for walking me through this. it has been cathartic and informative. i do believe that seacrest...i'm out.

my fourth grade teacher,

mr. hayner, taught in a regular school but wasn’t really a regular teacher. i think we only used one textbook (math) and we were allowed to go through it at our own pace. (i finished very early if you’re wondering. and yep, i’m bragging about my age-9 math skillz. we gotta grab what we can in life.)

he was really into projects and “real life learning” - for example, to learn about money/budgets/planning, we were divided into groups, given a few triple a books, some maps, (life without the interwebs!) and told to plan a trip to new york city for x amount of dollars. usually i hated these fakey construction paper type things - just give me the damn worksheet so i can fill it in and hit the playground to work on my made-up play. but for some reason – i think it was the use of real travel books, etc – i lived for this s*&t.

one day he took us to the supermarket down the street. another “environmental learning” math class opportunity. we all had clipboards and i think we had to price check stuff? compare products? not sure, but it was fun. ben maxwell slipped a pack of gum into his fanny pack and i’m still horrified. he also wrote on his leg that he loved me. equally scared still.

my mom was a chaperone for this excursion and fell in love with a certain classmate of mine named jenna. something about the studious way she held the clipboard and got down to business, i think. (she went on to graduate second in our class. mom wasn’t surprised.) after all this post-trip raving, i decided to give this chick a chance. we became besties pretty quickly and yada yada yada had lots of fun together for many years to come.

i bring this story up because a) we all like to think our past lives are charming don’t we? and b) i just got back in touch with jenna and holy god, she’s a licensed ship captain traveling around the world on boats?!?! like, as i type she’s cruising around australia and then falling asleep in a bunk bed after eating a sandwich and seeing some fish swim. and in her emails she uses all these boy/military words like “head” for bathroom and such. i’m in awe. of both her vocabulary and her kick-ass-edness. i heart my life and live for on-land coziness, i just think it’s pretty neat my former fellow ballerina friend might have to fight a pirate one day.

look,

this isn't like when i discovered npr and caffeine and frasier. i've always loved a good movie. but with our new netflix sitch, i can think up a movie i want to watch and without leaving my couch or fumbling with the dvd player it's abracadabra! playing without previews or commercials and damn that's rad.

i'm especially finding the easy access to old movies intoxicating. like right now - i'm watching the way we were. i've always wanted to see it - especially after the sex+city girls reference it way back in the day - but not really enough to walk to the rental joint or move it to the top of the queue. but this is super low risk - i press a button on my laptop and then i continue to sit some more. and if it's good, i watch the whole thing and if it's not, i don't.

i said to my brother, film geek extraordinaire, tonight: "movies are great! they don't have commercials!" mostly joking, but also serious because wow! when all i'm watching is movies i sure appreciate the lack of all those bullshit blah blah blahs. (i was a model account executive.)

okay but a few quick comments on tonight's feature.

**forgot to add spoiler alert here last night and sorta ruined the end for a friend. sorry sharon! other readers, proceed with caution.**

a) barbra streisand is a good actress! who knew?
b) i totally identify with robert redford's character and despise barb's. except for when she hates hanging with the uppity crowd because well, who doesn't.
c) why did this have to take place in the 40's? gratuitous and boring. she could have been a 60's activist and worn snazzy bell bottoms with hair down her back.
d) even in his prime time, bob just doesn't do it for me. he always looks a little red?
e) lame soundtrack.
f) they have a baby together and he's totally okay with some other dude raising it and casually asks after her when he accidentally bumps into barb at the end? uh.
g) "your girl is lovely, hubble." i get it now!

in which i'm a jerk and point out 3 words lots of people use incorrectly. just because it makes my brain leak

bemused:
what it really means: confused.
what it doesn't mean: amused.

nonplussed:
what it really means: totally perplexed.
what it doesn't mean: un-perplexed or unimpressed.

ambivalent:
what it really means: torn between doing/feeling two opposites.
what it doesn't mean: indifferent.

annnnnnd scene.

bliss.

tough to find a movie scene that makes me happier.

must ice face; too much smiling.

do you watch house hunters on hgtv?

because i do. (that is until our cable gets shut off, of course...8 days and counting...) and you should.

i deeply enjoy it. the 1, 2, or 3? formula, suzanne wong's blunt bangs, the snazzy little tune.

a few things about it enrage me, tho, giving me a chance to purge the day's tensions, puking them all over my tv screen:

1) people who walk into a cavernous room and say. "it's a liiiiiiiii-ttle small." then shake their heads in disdain. no wonder furr-eners hate america. get a clue! a family of four could live comfortably in your pallatial bathroom.

2) people who comment on the paint choices of a potential house. "i don't know...there sure is a lot of yellow." followed by a heavy sigh. are you serious? that will take 1/4 of a day to fix. and i wonder who voted for bush.

3) people who worry about their furniture. "i really love the whole house...but will our bedroom set fit?" ridiculous.

4) people who call golf courses "great views!" ...no.

5) people who are obsessed with stainless steel appliances. sure, they're attractive, but also just a phase - just like that avocado laminate from the seventies. making this a deal breaker is insane.

but i hope no potential participants read this because i really don't want any of these things to change; i'd have nothing to yell about and yelling makes me happy.

bja's small/random/affordable gift guide

things i like that you might want to purchase for people you heart (including yourself):


a) kiehls is famous for its essential oils, especially the musk. for 16 bucks you get this teensy (but not too teensy) vintage-y glass bottle filled with enough oil to last you a long time/lifetime. (one small drop = a lot of scent.) they’re all supa delicious/pure/clean, don’t give me a headache (rare) and are unisex. i rock the musk and have my eye on cucumber.

b) unclear why these boots get so many mixed reviews; if you order them online perhaps the picture is misleading? i bought mine in person and was beyond psyched when I found them for 30 dollas. they’re a dull/matte black (I hate a shine), completely flat, made of a strange moon boot material (it’s really not pretending to be leather, which i appreciate) and have a small opening/circumference for skinny calves. they’re comfortable, and cute with a dress (like today) or over pants/leggings, etc. my best find in a long time.

c) yes, i work for them, but i’d love this stuff no matter what. doesn’t matter if you’re a grownup, a baby, or a grownup with a baby - i do believe you'll enjoy it. this lotion is creamy, moisturizing without being greasy and smells incredible. if you could bottle that “baby smell” it’d be this; sweet, delicate, homey. i like to rub it into my neck and temples before bedtime.

d) my mom and I found this at cvs, during one of a few makeup trips pre-wedding. i had no idea what it was for, but it looked delightful and i do enjoy me some carmindy, so i dropped the 11 bucks. i don’t do foundation, so i use this on its own – if you do wear foundation, you’d use this stuff first.

after (or sometimes instead of) moisturizing, i use one pump and rub into my whole face. i have no idea how, but it adds 1) brightness 2) a tiny imperceptible shimmer 3) serious softness. it doesn’t bring any color, but it just makes me look more awake and dewy. love, love, love.

san francisco is so expensive

that the discussion of relocating becomes inevitable. not relocation = inevitable, just the constant, ambivalent debate of it all. pros of this place = natural beauty, liberal peeps, lotsa stuffs to do, temperate climate. cons = expensive as f*&%, far from family, kids raised here can end up super spoiled.

so we'll go back and forth and talk about goals and puppies and baking cupcakes with more counter space and such, but bottom line it always come down to: panic! we could never live outside a major metropolis! we would wither and die and probably start wearing pleated pants!

but then it's saturday, and i listened to my podcasts and drank tea with a heating pad on my back, looking out my window, while clay listened to his podcasts and played video games with intermittent breaks to make coffee and read a magazine. then i made pasta and we watched a netflix. then we drove to the liquor store to buy frozen yogurt, drove back and ate it. and now our headphones are back in place, we're across the room from each other, plugged into our respective podcasts again. (don't frown; these things make us happy.) at moments like these, which are often, of course we think WE COULD NEVER ENJOY THIS LIFESTYLE OUTSIDE A CITY!

uh.

me in white

i think i posted a link awhile back of 20-ish shots.

here are 162-ish.

hearts!

every time i wear a dress

instead of pants my day goes about 120 times better. and at end of those days i swear to myself that i’ll wear one everyday! all day! but i never do. i think it’s because i don’t have the perfect boots yet. even tho i hunt and bid lose and bid and bid and hunt and bid and lose on ebay. moving on.

you see, tho i have skinny limbs and a smallish frame, i was blessed ("") with a buddha belly. i think they call this body type an “apple” instead of a “pear” which is okay with me since apples + peanut butter is one of my favorite snacks and pears always taste mealy. every little kid has got one of these bellies – round, rubbable, pokey - it’s just that mine decided to stick around after i turned 4, and 14, and 24. so dresses drape over my little tum. while pants dig and ouch.

of course, katharine hepburn and others worked hard to make pants acceptable for the ladies, so i don’t want to ignore their labors.

i found these pants, but frankly those sound/look even worse than regular pants. I don’t want a tuck, fools, I want comfort that’s attractive. those = discomfort that’s fugly. nooooo thanks, crazy pants.

my point is, do you have any ideas for me? about these things called pants? that might be comfortable and cute?

and if you’re about to suggest these, please don’t: I already have them, love them, fall asleep in them. clay has named them “treasure pants” because of their special, magical, unicorn qualities. but am I doomed to elastic pants forever? i’m only 26, people. how about something with a zipper?

he gets me through my day

jesse thorn. host of the podcast jordan, jesse, go! i listen to hours of this show in my left ear as i make fedex labels. it keeps me alive.

i never feel so yankee

as i do after a trip to texas. i can't pinpoint exactly what's different except - i definitely am. i talk a little too fast, can't pronounce pecan (i say "pee-kan" instead of "pah-cahn"), and i still don't understand football. i worry for the day we've got kiddos to bring 'round, because wow those southern babies are done up so cute. i'm fairly certain ours will be clad in onesies + barefoot + koolaid mustache.

but dang those texans can cook! yams with brown sugar, sweet rolls, sweet tea, sweet potato pie (noticing a theme?), cheese grits, green bean casserole (i could eat this everyday, all day), ham, cheesy rice, turkey, gravy, buttermilk pie, red velvet cake, and oh my god ---- potato chips sprinkled with chocolate and caramel. geen-ius.

later on in the week, we ate cajun (red beans + sausage + rice + banana pudding) then bbq (beef brisket, mac and cheese, cole slaw, toast: a wedding flashback!) i hurt myself/jammed myself with all the choosings. and don't feel a bit bad about it. power yoga x 7 days = start now.

tomorrow it's back to my dry pita sandwiches and grape juice eaten quietly at a quiet desk. self-pity binge swapped out for a food binge! a low-cal option fo sho.

cc's on the road again

so i took him to the airport this morning. this was our little routine when i was unemployed: wake up early, enjoy a nice ride together, he flies off into the sunrise, i drive back to a soundtrack of npr then sleep for 3 more hours.

now that i'm working, i'm a little nervous for the crash that's going to happen around noon (or nine) today. i'm fortified with caffeine and the knowledge of a short week, but that can only take a girl so far. if i'm going to be a teacher one day, as i'm seriously considering, i'll have to get used to earlier hours eventually though, right? do you think it's possible to rewire your natural body rhythms so that waking up early is actually enjoyable for a night owl like myself?

because i can really see the benefits of it if i could make it work: up before anything is clamoring for me, traffic is none, fog's creeping in, a cup of tea and a couch. maybe a walk and some oatmeal? i would like that.

but to swing that i'd have to be asleep by 10, which doesn't quite compute with my brain. that's when dirty jobs starts! oh but wait, amy, wait. these timings are not relevant to your life anymore, silly girl. have you forgotten that you and your hubs-band have embarked on a cable-free adventure starting...as soon as they turn off our box? (we've canceled, but are milking it for all its worth.)

too much caffeine = i talk to myself.

you see, now that we've got netflix streaming into our xbox, which brings us tons of stuff with just a click (awkward phrasing i still use after doing ads for comcast, brain = poisoned.), i feel a lot less nervous than if i'd just signed up for me + aladdin on vhs. we'll have plenty to watch, just no commercials and less channel surfing through dumb things (parking wars anyone?) when i should be writing/reading/cooking/pumping iron. weeeeeeeesh us luck!

as much as i pee

my new coworkers most definitely think i'm puking up all those string cheeses. the ladies room locale is very un-feng-shui. it's right near the lobby and front desk so both guests and receptionist are privy to my frequent visits. it's also directly across from a glass-walled meeting room, always filled with senior types. and i have to walk from the way back to the way front of the office, passing every single person's desk on my journey.

and now, i go even more frequently because of my new addiction. yoga in the stall.

i get so sleepy and cramped at my desk and as much as the english breakfast tea and npr podcasts help, it's not enough. so i sneak into the handicap stall and do a bunch of poses until i hear the outside door squeak and i saunter out to wash my hands. a must after downward dog on a bathroom floor. disturbed that i'll do that but won't use a sponge? so am i.

i'm always delighted after our laundry is done

because

a) not fun!

but mostly

b) i realize oh! i kind of have clothes!

because you see, before going out to sushi with the hubs or brunch with the book club ladies i have lots of mini nervous breakdowns when i look in my closet. i can't find anything i like or anything that fits or really anything at all.

but then i throw some tide on top of things and my raincloud dries up. (or, really, just moves along to something else - like seeing all those dead pigs piled up inside that same truck in chinatown every morning. and you were jealous of my commute.)

this whole america's-po'-now-so-try-shopping-in-your-closet thing is a mind-blow. combine my recent much-needed staple acquistions from target ( i used a gift certificate + $34 of my own dollars, don't hate!) with my current stash and turns out i've got black leggings and skinny black stretchy pants and blue jeans and plain tanks and tanks with stripes and basic dresses for layering and a few colored cardigans and stretchy/soft turtlenecks and even some accessories. i won't say i'm rocking my dream wardrobe or anything, but after all is washed and folded - i'm not mad at what i got.

(except comfortable black ballet flats for everyday wear -- any recommendations!? i'll spend as little as a penny, as much as...fi'ty?)

add to this my rabid library usage and my store-brand spaghetti sauce purchasing and it looks like i'm one step away from making potholders out of old jeans. my family should be getting very excited for their upcoming christmas presents.

doesn't everyone think i need one of these?

your heart just stopped for a minute, right?

i found an online quiz that analyzes your lifestyle and matches you with your perfect breed.

apparently, a bulldog is:

"clownish"

"a couch potato"

"stubborn"

"very good with children"

"appreciates a lowkey daily outing"

and

"prefers not to exercise"

in other words, me.

will you help bat your eyelashes at cc for me? thaaanks.

bangin

if a thief hadn't thiefed us, i would take a pic of my new 'do. i'm hard at work on a pinhole camera, but until that's complete you'll have to use your imagination. i'm happy with the new look, although my stylist cut the bangs a little too long - which is better than too short of course, so i'm not crying. i can wear them down and completely straight across - my preference - but then i'm stuck blowing hair out of my eyes all day. so i'm wearing them down and straight across but also sort of pushed over a little. i think the whole thing looks especially cute when my hair is up; sort of ballet-dancer-from-1977-ish?

wow. this is boring even to me.

i might as well start typing what i ate today. (cinnamon swirl oatmeal and english breakfast tea in the morning + sweet and sour chicken with an iced tea for lunch. i'm making chicken enchiladas tonight. the end.)

in summary: i like them, cc is adjusting, i think you'll dig, and at my free bang trim in two weeks i'll get them cut shorter.

i'm sort of short on other news. except that it's 78 degrees and sunny here in san francisco and my internal thermometer is very confused. holiday starbucks cups + tank tops? body.no.compute.

i don't feel well

but i needed to tell you about my new favorite show.

if you enjoy/enjoyed mystery science theater 3000, you should watch whatever martha (on the fine living network.) martha stewart's daughter alexis and her friend jennifer sit on couches and watch old episodes of martha's show together. they make witty quips and talk over the narration and try to make the crafts along with her and make fun of the mom jeans. it's genius.

okay i'm dizzy and nauseous and stuff. carry on.

he could have just opened the door

just as i was flapping my yapper about how pretty and lovely and smart this city is, cc and i woke up to a broken-into car. sad face, upset tummy. some bad guy used a key (?!) to get into our lobby and then our garage, spotted our schmancy nikon camera strap only sort of hidden underneath a sweatshirt, and bashed in our sweet little v-dub's back window to grab it. he also found my new not-schmancy-but-still-loveable camera tucked into a side pocket. he must be a photographer.

the frustrating part (aside from the fact he got into our building uninvited and took our things) was the car = unlocked! the glass-bashing, which will run us about two-hundy to fix (thank you cc for hunting down the deal), was completely unnecessary, and made my car look all undignified and frumpy. ack.

the locks will be changed and we'll be extra-careful now about a) letting anyone non-tenant into the building and b) leaving anything in our car, but it's still creepy and unfair. ah, city living.

in happier news, i'm debuting my cooking skills tonight for non-family-members. we'll sit around our little white table by the window and enjoy the view of the bay, visible through the small space between two mansions. would you like to hear the menu?

tomato and basil (homegrown!) soup
garlic bread for dipping
green (spinach pesto i'll make in my processor) gnocchi
homemade ginger snaps (amy sedaris recipe)
pumpkin pie ice cream (cc is in charge of this one, "as long as you buy me the ingredients")

nom nom nom, says cookie monster.

looks like my uk passport will stay dusty

a) didn't the air smell better today? everything just seems a little different and i hope it doesn't stop. 1000% thrilled and happy and inspired. !gobama!

b) shame on you, conservative californians. as cc said this morning, we can only hope someone doesn't arbitrarily decide to take our marriage away.

c) i just made hot chocolate from scratch and added cayenne pepper. do this and thank me later.

d) yoga in the a.m. helps sleeping in the p.m.

e) showing around visitors (cc's dad and stepmom - hi guys!) always makes me heart this city even more. it really is one of the coolest (and prettiest and smartest) places on the map. i'm a lucky gal.

you voted, right?

i thought so.

quick question

while i'll eat a doughnut off a dirty floor, wash my hair only when i remember, and wear the same t-shirt five days in a row, i have a really weird germ-a-phobe thing with sponges. as in i really, really don't like using them.

i feel like i'm just wiping around e coli and salmonella and dead skin and egg yolks every time i swipe the counters. they stay perpetually damp and smell strange and i can’t imagine they’re actually making things less germy than they were to begin with. i have a scrubby brush thing i use for the dishes, but when it comes to counters and stovetops and every single one of my bathroom’s surfaces, i just cannot find anything acceptable.

i know (i know) it’s horrible to keep using paper towels, but sponges make my brain explode. cc tells me i just need to have separate sponges for separate purposes and squeeze them dry and air them out and all that. and i know those are all good ideas. just, ahem, maybe not the best ideas?

and so i’m here asking you, dear reader, for different suggestions: more eco friendly than paper towels, please, but thoughtfully removing any mention of sponge, spongy, spongee.

bja and her sidekick, ocd, thank you kindly.