Sometimes I Really Can't Believe Myself

This morning there was an all-employee meeting up at Chili's. I waffled over whether I was going to go -- I knew what it was about already, they're closing the store, and if they don't want people to figure that kind of thing out on their own, then they shouldn't tell geniuses like myself and my husband about the meeting -- but in the end decided, hell, why not? I already knew what was coming, so I wouldn't be blindsided by it, even though I'm sure everyone would be crying, etc.

So I did my yoga, ate breakfast, put some "real" clothes on, grabbed my purse and water bottle and tea, put on my sunglasses and walked out the door. And then, standing in the sunroom, I said (to myself, but still out loud): "I did NOT just do that."

But I did. I locked myself out of my house. And I also locked my cell phone inside my house.

I walked around the perimeter of the house for about ten or fifteen minutes trying to find a window that might be open that I could crawl through -- I even got a chair to try to break into the study -- but it was a no go. Which is good in a way. Then I walked over to the nursing home and asked a very sweet nurse (I think she was Filipino) if I could use their phone. I called D at work and said, "You're never going to believe what I just did."

"Got a speeding ticket?" he guessed.

"No."

"Wrecked your car?"

"No. I locked my keys and cell phone inside the house."

He said he would come get me after the meeting, so then the question was, how do I kill time until he shows up? The answer (not having a phone on which to call people or anything better to do) was more cellar cleaning. Here is another list of some of the random things I found today:

* My student planner from high school. (I can see why I kept it, though. I decorated that thing very nicely. Including a spread in the back of printouts of Marky Mark in his underwear.)

* Six fuzzy Easter chicks on a green strip of cardboard. (The seventh must have jumped.)

* Purple glitter Silly Putty.

* A bouncy ball.

* An "Ask Me About Gift Cards" button from Spencer Gifts.

* A cassette tape recorder. Yes. You read that right.

* An authentic MC Hammer cassette tape -- Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em.

* One of those red plastic fortune-telling fish.

* Two old wallets, one of which (made of hemp) has a quote from Erich Fromm and a Waltzing Matilda pin with which I decorated it.

* A hilarious illustration I had to do for Magazine Design (which I almost failed, by the way -- design = not my thing AT ALL) about hand-washing and bacteria. It involved a doctor, who looks kind of like a Playmobil character, standing in front of a pyramid of sick babies in their cots; he is holding his hands in front of him, palms up, and radiating from his palms are bacteria (magnified). I might scan it later so I can post it; it is just THAT funny. And I also found some plans I had drawn up before I did the "real" illustration where the doctor was instructing the germs and bacteria leaping from his hands, "Fly, my pretties! Fly!" What is wrong with me?

* A journal I kept on and off throughout college that included some dreams I had about my now-husband when we just started dating ... and a rant about him when I was really mad at him because he wouldn't help me move. Ah, memories. (For the record, that remains the meanest thing he's ever done to me -- and let's be honest, it wasn't all that mean, I still had three or four boys who helped me move.)

Oh, and for all who are worried about my financial livelihood (why, thank you), don't be: Chili's is giving every employee-in-good-standing $250 and the chance to earn $12 an hour cleaning up the place once it's closed. And D is probably going to transfer to another Chili's where he can be a day cook -- he might take a pay/hours cut, but he'll keep his vacation benefits, which is pretty awesome.

I have to go work out now.

I Hate Pumps

I pretty much live in sneakers (with the occasional foray into boots and sandals), so when I have to get dressed up for things and wear pumps ... it's not pretty.

Maybe it's because I never really learned to walk in pumps. I know the theory behind walking in heels (you just take smaller steps, right?), but I remain flummoxed by pumps because your feet aren't held in by anything!

Strappy sandals with a heel are fine; high-heeled boots are fine. But when there's no strap or something to hold my foot in, then my heel wants to lift up every time I take a step, and the steps you have to take to prevent that from happening are not normal wearing-heels steps -- they are miniscule. And I know it's not that I need a smaller size (which I thought was the problem), because when I tried a 1/2 size down with this particular pair, they were way too small.

Ugh. Give me flat shoes any day!

Funniest Thing I've Read All Day

Here it is.

Enjoy.

Delete! Delete!

Faithful readers may notice that my most recent post is missing.

This is because I don't want anyone (read: D) to get in trouble for, oh I don't know, telling someone who writes for a living about a salacious piece of corporate gossip.

Anyway ... I had one meeting today (for an artsy-entertaining online presence) and I have an interview on Friday (for a health and wellness publication).

And ... I'm all set to graduate in May!

And ... I remembered the hazard of having long, pretty nails today. I was reaching for something in my car, in the dark, and hit my long, pretty right thumbnail with a resounding "crack!"

Okay, it was more like a little "click." But. It still hurt. And now I have to nurse my thumbnail back to health ... or at least to a slightly longer length before I can cut it.

I guess it's better to maybe break your nail down to the quick than to bite it down to the quick.

Why Did I Do That?

My house has been looking pretty good lately. I've got the clutter to a minimum -- even in the dreaded second bedroom. (I do need to go through my books and get rid of some again ... but that's another story, and possibly a whole nother blog.)

But there is one big project that I've been needing to tackle for a long time: the cellar.

(Cue scary music here.)

The cellar is where I stash the stuff I don't have time to get rid of -- or even time to figure out what the heck I'm going to do with it. Like my broken blender and Damon's old shoes and a futon cover I've had since I was twelve years old. I don't even own a futon anymore!

The cellar is where the bins full of papers and magazines and god-only-knows-what-else from my college years lives.

The cellar is also where a lot of my graduate-student information is, apparently, buried. Because it's not in the second bedroom.

So today, I set my handy-dandy timer for fifteen minutes and made to tackle the cellar.

And the one thought I kept having, over and over again, was, "Why the hell did I even keep this to begin with?"

Why did I move it out to Colorado with me in the first place? That is the question. Do I really need my folder from the first journalism class I ever took -- the one I had to pass to get into the J-school? (No.) Do I really need all of these back issues of Vox, that I just tossed into a bin, that are all tattered and folded funny and ... and ... hell. If I need any of those old articles, they're online. And I have more recent material from a better job that is a better indicator of what I can do.

Sheesh!

Here are some of the other random things I found:

* A Josh Groban CD. (You know I did not buy this. His record company sent it to me in 2003 -- 2003! -- and I never even opened it. But I still have it.)

* About a dozen pairs of cheap sunglasses from Spencer Gifts that my old manager gave me when they were phasing out those styles. None of which I will wear.

* Every freaking issue of Jane magazine that I ever bought or was sent to my house. (I'm keeping those -- Jane is out of print; it's the only women's magazine I ever subscribed to [except for Glamour, which doesn't count; they started sending me Glamour when Jane folded]) .

* Every freaking issue of The New Yorker that I was ever sent. (These are going to recycling.) Between the New Yorker and Jane, those two periodicals filled up an entire (big) plastic bin.

* An empty box for a Crock Pot that I no longer own; I gave it away.

* A handwritten letter from my dad, dated March 26, but no year. (I'm keeping it. Duh.)

* A mini stuffed Bert doll from Sesame Street.

* A bill that I wrote a check for and stamped but never actually mailed.

* Some old birthday cards -- one from when I was seventeen years old. I could buy a birthday card for that birthday card; it will be eleven in February.

Why? Why do I have all this old crap? Some of it, granted, isn't crap ... but it needs to be organized and accessible so I can enjoy it instead of stuffing it down in the cellar and forgetting about it.

It's almost time for another fifteen minutes in the cellar. That could be a good name for a horror movie. Especially if it actually took place in my cellar ... there are mouse droppings everywhere, and I mean everywhere, and where there aren't mouse droppings, there are cobwebs. Lots of big cobwebs. I was only down there for fifteen minutes, as stated earlier, and I still feel like I should be combing spiders out of my hair.

If I do at least fifteen minutes down there every day, I bet by April (at the latest!) I will have that cellar organized. I'll keep you posted on other random things I find; I'm sure there will be plenty.

And One More Thing

My darling husband pointed out that Number 20 on my list of 25 Random Things is a lie. I do so drink alcohol regularly. I tried to argue this point with him, but he is right ... I drink a beer or a glass of wine pretty much every night of the week. Sometimes more than one. I do go through spurts when I don't keep any alcohol in my house (and thus, I don't drink, because I don't really go out to drink), but on average, one drink a night. Which means I do, indeed, drink regularly.

I don't drink mixed drinks, though, and I like making those.

Anyway. It's a good thing I added a 26th item so that I can have 25 random TRUE facts about me.

Religious Differences

Today this really nice couple came in and sat at my bar. They honestly were very sweet and I enjoyed chatting with them ... right up until this particular exchange made me a little uncomfortable. Just a little bit, though.

We were talking about books on tape, good books, and the wife said that the best book she'd read in a really long time was The Shack. I think that's what she said. She said what made her buy it was a positive review from Michael W. Smith on the back. (I know who he is from my teenage years.) And she said it was a Christian book, that "nonbelievers" could also enjoy it, but that believers in Christ would enjoy it that much more on a different level.

I just smiled and nodded ... because they were nice people, and I don't need to burden them with the responsibility of creating new social religious standards. Here is what I found strange about the entire exchange: It's Sunday; I'm obviously not at church -- instead, I'm working behind a bar; I am not wearing any kind of Christian jewelry. But the default assumption as to my religious beliefs is that I must be a Christian. It's amazing to me because growing up, the school I went to was always blathering on about how oppressed and marginalized Christians are in modern society. And I totally ate it up and believed it as a kid and a young adult. But the fact is -- Christians are neither oppressed nor marginalized in American society today. I don't by any means wish my religious beliefs were considered the default for anybody -- although of course, I do think that if more people thought the way I do, the world would be a better place. But who doesn't think that?

And it was also strange because I obviously felt a connection with these people; we were having a good conversation. I am under no illusions that, had I stopped the conversation about the book right there and said something along the lines of, "Actually, I don't believe in Jesus Christ as my lord and savior -- I celebrate each equinox and the cycles of the moon; I'm a pagan," then it would have (probably) changed the dynamic between the three of us. I wonder what they would have said or thought about me. Talk about marginalized ... I have a feeling that they would have paid up and left right then and there instead of hanging out and chatting.

And that's fine. That's their prerogative; I understand that most people don't have the first clue about what paganism is and what it means and the moral codes involved (yes, there are moral codes). It just seems supremely ironic to me that, as a teenager, I believed I really was marginalized, in the minority, as a Christian, because that's what the adults told me. And now here I am, part of a religion that is not even organized and is certainly not in the mainstream. I know what marginalization is now.

Maybe that's just the universe's way of teaching us ... making us into the things we thought we once were.

Not The Reaction She'd Hoped For

So there's this girl who works at the restaurant who, last week, was saying she needed to take a pregnancy test because she was late.

And this week I come in and when I see her, I say, "Hi, how are you today, so-and-so?"

And she says, "Pregnant."

And this is the first thing out of my mouth: "Oh. Shit."

Then: "Um. Congratulations ... who's the daddy?"

"Oh, this guy who lives in Alabama ... it happened over the holidays."

"Wow. So, um, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have it."

And all I can think about is how there's a recession ... and this girl is having a baby. Not that there is anything at all wrong with having babies. (For me, there might be. But that's another story, another blog, another day.) And it's not because she and her significant other are financially doing okay ... and it's not because she really wants a baby ... it's because she just wasn't all that careful when she had sex with some random dude over the holidays.

To me, it just doesn't make sense. Which is maybe why the first thing out of my mouth is, "Oh. Shit."

Number 26

26. I pluck my eyebrows standing up in my bathtub with a hand mirror because it has the best light in the house.

25 Random Things

This is something that's been passing around Facebook. I'm not posting it there, but it does get to live here.

1. My big toes are double-jointed.

2. I am obsessed about very few things ... one of them is music. I would almost always rather be listening to music than watching television.

3. My three favorite books, in no particular order, are: A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole; the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling (although if I have to choose just one of those, it's definitely Deathly Hallows); and Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

4. I have a post office box because my house is too close to the post office to get mail. (Seriously.)

5. I don't have a dishwasher ... and I prefer doing dishes by hand, anyway.

6. I can bake a mean pie.

7. And a mean cheesecake.

8. I use clinical-strength deodorant, which you have to put on before you go to sleep. But I forget pretty frequently and have to use my husband's deodorant.

9. Bikram yoga is one of my favorite things in this world, ever.

10. My can't-miss radio shows are a 9:30 a.m. Tuesday slot by Alan Watts and the 1 to 4 p.m. Saturday slot, "Reggae Bloodlines." Both on KGNU. 88.5 FM Boulder, 1390 AM Denver.

11. The podcasts I subscribe to are "This Week in Science," "APM Weekend America" and "Savage Love."

12. I am an avid advice-column reader. Savage Love, Dear Abby, Annie's Mailbox, Classic Ann Landers, the Advice Goddess, Dear Margo, Dear Prudence, Carry Tennis, Amy Dickinson and Carolyn Hax are the columns I read weekly.

13. When I was four years old, an anaconda bit me. True story.

14. I had a dream this morning wherein I was lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. I didn't realize I was asleep until my cat jumped on me.

15. My favorite band/musical group is Blackalicious. However, if I could only listen to one genre of music, it would be trip-hop/downtempo. (Although I would see if I could also squeeze drum and bass in ... the syncopated rhythm argument? Think it would fly?)

16. When I get my master's degree, my GPA in grad school will have been 4.0. First time I did that since elementary school!

17. When I sing along with Bradley Nowell (from Sublime), he makes my voice sound really good.

18. I sing regularly to my dog -- usually freestyle lyrics to a song stuck in my head or something playing about Marshall and what he's doing.

19. I bite my nails. I've been able to get them long and beautiful more than once, but something always caves and I bite them off. I don't know what it is. (They are in a long and beautiful phase right now.)

20. I don't drink alcohol regularly, but I really like making drinks.

21. I weigh myself every day.

22. I make my bed every day. (Well. Almost.)

23. I can type 120 words per minute.

24. I have a mild obsession with stationery.

25. I proudly own an authentic set of Russian nesting dolls.

Go With the Flow

It's an almost universally acknowledged truth that energy creates a flow in the universe. The difference (in my opinion) is what people choose to name and how they choose to conceptualize that movement. And yet (also in my opinion), there are so many people who fight the flow. Or try to change its direction.

Take social and civil progress, for example. To me, it just doesn't make sense to deprive certain people of specific basic rights. Should there be age restrictions on marriage? Absolutely, because (presumably), every human will reach that age and thus be allowed to get married to whomever they please, except for a child or a close relative (which is just NOT good for the gene pool as a species). Not all that long ago in this country, we were debating whether former slaves would be allowed to get married -- to each other! If you look back at human history, there is a slow but inexorable march toward freedom for everybody and equality for everybody. That is part of the flow.

But it could just be me.

Ch-Ch-Changes

1. I have completed my graduation application for May. If all goes according to plan -- in other words, my paper is completed and I pass my defense -- then I will be walking in May with my master's degree. Woot!

2. Ella Taylor got laid off. That makes me really sad. She was my favorite critic in the VVM chain.

3. I had a rant I wanted to type out ... but I'm not sure what happened to it. Will revisit if I can.

Maybe I Should Go Back to School ...

Seriously.

I'm gearing up to finish my master's degree (finally!) but ... I don't know if magazine writing is going to be my future career.

Maybe a doctorate in Women and Gender Studies? Then I could be a professor. I love academia.

Just a thought ...

BL Recap: Game Play

So last night was the third week of the new season of The Biggest Loser. Here's what went down ...

The temptation was as follows: Each team member was left alone in a room for five minutes with an assortment of food. Not healthy food -- we're talking pizza, peanut butter cups, donuts, you get the picture. The team who ate the most calories combined would get the opportunity to take their trainer home with them and train for 24 hours with their partners. Everyone on the ranch refused to eat anything ... except for the yellow team member. (Mandy? I think that's her name ...) She ate one piece of pizza "for the boys." She's a mom and misses her family and wanted to see them. And she cried after she ate it.

Two team members at home ate food: blue team and silver team. The silver team member at home, you may recall, is Carla. Joelle, the silver team member on the ranch, almost ate but decided not to at the last minute. Regardless, Carla consumed more calories than anyone else, so Joelle and Carla were going to bring Bob home to Detroit.

Joelle was excited about going home, and everyone was pissed off at her for it, because Mandy wanted to go home so bad and they thought it was mean of Joelle to rub it in Mandy's face that she wasn't going home. Personally, I think that everyone was just pissed at Joelle and were overreacting a little bit. And if Mandy REALLY wanted to see her kids that bad, she would have eaten more than one slice of pizza.

Well, Bob gets to Detroit, and sooner or later you know it's going to come out to Carla what a big baby Joelle has been for the past week. Carla, as expected, flips out. They fight. They cry. They make up ... kind of. Carla tells Joelle that she BETTER do her best to bring Carla back to the ranch.

(Meanwhile, Dan's orange teammate, whose name is escaping me and I'm too lazy to look it up, has been eating things like hot dogs and fried chicken back home. I'm worried about Dan. Their "couples" relationship is best friends, and if Dan does really well and loses a bunch of weight and his friend can't get a handle on his relationship with food, his friend could end up sabotaging Dan's success.)

Anywho. The challenge this week was a massive jump-rope challenge. Green team's Tara took it home ... but I found myself actually rooting for purple team's Kristin, just because she probably has never won anything like that in her life, and I felt like it would really mean a lot to her. She came in second.

Then came the weigh-in. Tara, of course, got immunity, and Dan, my other favorite, was safe. So was Kristin, whom I also like now. Below the yellow line were ... Joelle. Duh. And Damien from the red team.

It seemed like a no-brainer. But, of course, there was a twist. What happened was this: Damien and Joelle were both on Bob's team. Last week, when Dan and Jerry (Jillian's team) fell below the yellow line, Bob's team came to Jillian's team and asked Jillian's team how they were voting, as a matter of courtesy. This week, Jillian's team did the same. Of course Bob's team was sending Joelle home. Everyone thought that Jillian's team would follow their lead.

But. Jillian's team has apparently started game-playing already. Here's the issue: Damien is a stronger player than Joelle. So strategically for Jillian's team, it makes sense to send the stronger person home; then they still have to compete against Joelle, but it's not like that's as difficult as competing against Damien. Even though Bob's team all assumed they were going to vote for Joelle. Of course they didn't; they voted for Damien. And since the score was tied, and Damien's percentage of weight lost was lower than Joelle's, Damien went home. Joelle managed to sneak through by the skin of her teeth.

Pretty amazing stuff. I bet this starts some serious competition between Bob and Jillian's teams ...

Blah

I was really hoping this wouldn't happen, but it has. I've hit a wall. And it's only January 21!

My biggest issue is eating/drinking at night. Mostly the drinking, if I'm honest. And I usually am. I drink a glass of red wine every night ... but most night it turns into two glasses of red wine ... and they're not the standardized five-ounce pours, either.

I think that's what's going on. I haven't gained any weight since being introduced to Jillian Michaels ... but I haven't lost any, either. Frustrating.

Worktastic

So I just got done with my Sunday shift at Chili's, and there were a couple of things that annoyed me ...

First was our lounge server, Kelli, who always works on Sundays. She is hugely pregnant (due next month), 25 years old with two or three kids already. Nice enough girl, but ... slow, slow server. Every Sunday I find myself filling up her iced teas and waters, spotting tables before she does and asking if she needs any help. It's not like I want to take her tables -- she even told me she missed me while I was on vacation, because the bartender who worked my Sunday shift took every other table in the lounge, so she only got half of what she would have. But it's frustrating to me to see people looking around for the server, then they look at me, and I want to tell them, "Hey, I'm not serving you right now because your server thinks she can handle it."

So she's checking the schedule for next week and writing it down while I'm in the back eating my lunch. (The new southwestern vegetable soup -- yummy! -- with a house salad with romaine mix, no croutons, no cheese and the new fire-roasted tomato vinaigrette.) And she says, "I love Amy." (Amy is the manager who makes the schedule -- the manager who told me when I called about getting more shifts that people are fighting for shifts up in Conifer and I'd be better off down in Lakewood or, god forbid, Applewood -- I am never going back to that store. But I digress. Point is, after the general manager told me I could have more shifts and he would rather have me on the floor than someone who sucks, Amy tells me that there are no shifts to be had.)

And I say, "Oh?"

And she says, "Yeah. Everyone else is getting their shifts cut, but I still have all my shifts."

I said something noncommittal, but inside I'm thinking, "What?" Because some of those are lounge shifts, too, where you need to be able to handle nine tables at once. And Kelli, bless her heart, can't.

Take today as an example. (I'm glad this happened; these people made my day.) This couple came and sat down at Table 75 in the lounge. They were waiting for Kelli to make her way over there; for my part, I'm trying not to make eye contact, until I go back to the kitchen and ask Kelli if she wants me to take them. She says, "No, I got it." I say okay and go back to the bar.

The woman in the couple comes up to the bar and asks if they can order beer. I say sure and pour their beers; when I turn around, they've moved to the bar. This couple comes in frequently and they work while they eat lunch (it's a bunch of paperwork), so being at the bar I'm sure was not what they really wanted, because there's not as much space. But as long as they're comfortable, I don't care; so I take their food order -- and by the time I'm finished ringing it in, Kelli comes by, ready to give them silverware and take their drink order. That's how slow this girl is.

They sit and drink and eat, and they end up leaving me a huge tip ($17 and change on a $28 bill) and tell me, "Thanks for the excellent service; that's why we moved to the bar."

So you can see why I'm not exactly sure why Kelli, of all people, is getting to keep all her shifts at the restaurant. Fair much? I don't think so.

Second: We were busy today. At 2 p.m., Kelli wants to leave, so the manager cuts her. Then we start getting about a billion tables in the lounge. I have another server take one of them, but I'm running my ass off (I have several people sitting at my bar, too), and then my relief calls -- the bartender who comes in to replace me. She is a sweetheart; her name is Deanna. She asks if it's okay with me if she's fifteen minutes late. (She's supposed to be in by 3 p.m.) She's done that before, and normally it's fine, but today I'm so slammed that I say, "We're really busy, so please get here as soon as you can." She gets there at 3:03 according to the computer clock; I'm still running around, getting people refills, making drinks for the dining room, trying to figure out how to make a lemon-drop martini with Tuaca (gross, I know), running food, yadda yadda blah blah. And she decides it's time to walk around and talk to everybody. Finally, I said, "Deanna, can you please clock in?" Because there are people sitting down at the bar; I don't want to open a tab that I'm just going to have to transfer over to her. Or two or three tabs, as it was by the time she decided to actually start working. Like I said, she's a sweetie, and normally I don't care, but I'd been running around and was ready to leave Chili's.

So that was my day. There was one really funny incident: While I'm busy running, running, running, one of the servers, Kristen, rang in a happy-hour margarita on the rocks (which is really two margaritas). She's training to be a bartender, so she's watching me go all over the place; I'm planning on getting to her shortly, but then she says, "I can make these if you don't mind." "Go ahead," I tell her. So she comes back, takes the cocktail shaker and cooler glass (you mix the margarita, or drink in question, in the shaker, put the cooler glass on top and shake them) and puts the tequila, triple sec, sour mix and lime juice in. She puts the cooler glass on and shakes ... and she's somehow managed to get the cooler glass stuck in the shaker. Which happens from time to time. I can't get it off; our manager can't get it off; the manager finally puts it in my sink of hot water to loosen it up and tells Kristen to make another batch. Which she does. And gets THAT cooler mug stuck in THAT shaker.

We only have two cocktail shakers behind the bar, and I'm kind of giggling at this point, because Kristen is a tiny little thing -- smaller than I am for sure -- and I think it's pretty funny she's managed to get TWO of the shakers taken out of commission. Finally the manager takes her second attempt back to the kitchen, where it takes Damon about five minutes to separate the glass and the shaker.

She was so cute, too. She came up to me and asked if I was mad at her, and I said "No, of course not." "Are you sure?" "Yes; of course I'm not mad at you. I thought it was hilarious." "Really? You promise?" "Yes, Kristen, I promise. Funniest thing I saw all day."

Two Pounds

I swear, just doing yoga and working out with Jillian Michaels (I pretend like she really is my personal trainer) yesterday made me lose two pounds.

I know. Crazy, right? But the scale doesn't lie, or so they say.

We'll see if tomorrow brings another two ... the Jillian DVD box says "Lose Up to 20 Pounds in 30 Days." I don't need to lose more than twenty pounds, so we'll see....

Ouch!

Some of you might be aware of my healthy obsession with fitness/workout DVDs. I just got two new ones (late Christmas/early birthday presents); I think they're going to change my life. But then, I think that about all my workout DVDs.

But these are like two sides of the same coin. The first one is Rodney Yee's AM/PM Yoga DVD. Obviously, it has yoga stretches/series for your morning and for your evening. The second is a Jillian Michaels DVD -- 30 Day Shred.

The AM/PM yoga is pretty self-explanatory and easy, although you do get a good stretch on, and I'm not quite as flexible as Rodney or the other yoga instructor, whose name escapes me right now; this will be a good opportunity to work on that, plus get my mind ready for my day (and the end of my day)

Jillian, though ... whoa. Her DVD is broken into three levels. You start at Level 1 (duh), then progress to Levels 2 and 3 as you feel ready.  And I will be the first to tell you, Level 1 might be the "beginner" level, but it's not all fun and games, people. It hurts. And it's only a thirty-minute workout, if that!

She uses circuits of three minutes of strength training, two minutes of cardio and one minute of ab work, and there are three circuits. You'd think that sounds easy ... that's only nine minutes of strength training, six minutes of cardio and three minutes of abs total, right? Right?

No. She moves from one exercise to another quickly, and so your heart rate never gets back to normal after your first circuit. And she is a tough cookie. I can see why her Biggest Loser team does so well year after year.

Anyway, I'm hoping to be done with Level 1 in ten days and ready to move on to Level 2. We'll see, though. Jillian ain't no joke, even in DVD form.

Biggest Loser Recap

Last night was the second episode of the new season of Biggest Loser. By week two, I generally don't know yet whom I want to win the final $250,000 prize -- or even the $100,000 take-home prize. But I have an idea of my favorite players and whom I'm starting to seriously dislike. I have to revise my favorites throughout the season ... take last season for example: I wanted Colleen to win the grand prize. (Or maybe she spells her name Coleen. I'm not sure. But she was the one I thought should win it all.) When she was eliminated, Michelle and her mom, Renee, became my two favorites, almost by default. Yes, they were sweet, sweet ladies -- but my main motivation was that I really, really, REALLY didn't want either of those bitches (aka Heba and Vicki) anywhere near the $250,000 prize. They sucked. I hated them almost from the very beginning, when Heba started being all bossy and Vicki started being all bitchy. I even felt sorry for Heba during the first few weeks! I mean, with a name like Heba, you're really set up to be fat. It's not her fault. But it is her fault that she is mean as a snake! (I know most snakes aren't really mean. But in my world, they are.)

So this week, I cemented my relationship with a couple of people I knew had the potential to be favorites, started garnering some serious dislike for one person, and had to say goodbye to someone who wasn't exactly a favorite but whom I wanted to see do well on the show. Let's start with the favorites: Tara (green team) and Dan (orange team). Tara is an ass-kicker. She carried green team to second place in the challenge last week, and she won the challenge this week -- which involved kayaking across a huge bay and then racing up a mountain. A small mountain, but still. I would have been exhausted, but she managed to beat the black team's Blaine, who is arguably the strongest competitor (next to Tara, of course). She and her teammate are former models who both gained a bunch of weight. Dan, unfortunately, came in last, which means he added a one-pound penalty to his final weight at the weigh-in. I like Dan; I want him to do well. He is an immense teenager (19, I think) and had a lot of trouble paddling the kayak because he is just so big, but he made it to the top of the mountain. I was proud of him. I hope he gets to stay till the end, I think he has the potential to make huge changes.

I should stop here and explain the twist of last week, because it's pertinent. Last week, the black team won immunity in the challenge, and the brown team had the highest percentage of weight lost, so they were both immune from this twist. Every remaining team had to send one member home. In thirty days, if the team member who stayed is still at the ranch, their partner will get to come back on the ranch. So this means every team except for black and brown only has one member on the ranch right now.

So, it made sense that Tara stayed, because her former-model best friend was kind of a wimp. It was her fault they lost the challenge last week. And Tara, as mentioned earlier, is an animal. If she gets kicked off, it will be because she had freakishly low weight loss (which she did this week, 2 pounds! Lucky she had immunity!) and people are afraid of how she's going to advance.

Every other group's split-up last week made sense, too, except for the silver team. They were best friends, Carla and Joelle. Carla is significantly bigger than Joelle, and she also seemed to have more drive, so it would have made sense for her to stay; I remember noticing that last week. It obviously was an argumentative decision they made to have Joelle stay, because Carla said something to the effect of: This is putting our friendship on the line. If she gets sent home, trouble will abound.

This week, Joelle did not impress anyone. She told Bob straight up that she doesn't mind the diet part but hates exercise. Bob tried to get her to understand that it's part of a package deal, you have to have all of the elements of weight loss to be truly successful at it. A very Zen speech. And Joelle seemed to understand ... until you see her in the gym and notice that she refuses to do a real push-up. I can't even explain what she was doing, really ... she had her hands and knees on the floor, in kind of a box shape, and was bending her arms and bringing her head to the floor, not her chest. It was weird. And Bob kept trying to explain to her that she was doing it wrong ... and she would nod and then continue her fake push-ups, looking around to see if Bob was noticing that she was cheating.

She also refused to sprint full-out for thirty seconds, which made Bob completely lose his mind. It was a little hilarious, to be honest ... Bob is the sweet (but tough ... but not as tough as Jillian) trainer, and he (as he said later) became Jillian Michaels for several minutes. He was screaming at Joelle at the top of his lungs. He finally, after I-don't-know-how-many tries, got her to sprint for thirty seconds. "Thank you!"

She also was the only one tempted by the temptation -- $25,000 if she would leave the ranch, effective immediately. Which would mean Carla never got to come back.

I was surprised at Joelle, honestly. Carla doesn't seem like the kind of woman I would mess with. I wouldn't want her mad at me. And I can imagine she was beyond pissed at Joelle.

Anyway. This is getting long. What happened at the weigh-in was: Dan (with his one-pound penalty) and Jerry fell below the yellow line. Jerry is part of the oldest couple that Biggest Loser has ever had on the show. I like him. He has got some serious health problems and really does need to be there. Joelle was right behind them; barely safe. Just above the yellow line. I was pissed. I do want Carla to come back -- I like Carla -- but Joelle doesn't even want to be there, it seems like! She almost went home for $25,000! And for Jerry and Dan, the two players who NEED to be on that ranch the most, to fall below, was worst-case scenario.

Jerry ended up getting sent home. I was sad for him, but also happy for Dan. All of the players said what I was thinking: Nobody wants Dan to become Jerry. And Jerry has his wife and kids at home to support him; Dan is nineteen. And both he and his wife, Estella, look fah-bulous, dahling!

We'll see if Joelle picks up the pace next week. I certainly hope so!

My Dog is a Bad Influence

Truly. He is. I have stopped calling him "bulldog" because his new name is "beardog." He hibernates in the winter, I swear it. He sleeps till at least 10:30 or 11 a.m. every day.

I've been trying to get up at 7:30 when D wakes up and goes to work because otherwise I feel like I've just wasted a huge chunk of my day. But today, Marshall snuggled up right next to me and I thought, "I'll just stay in bed until he wakes up." I had some weird dreams (which I don't remember right now) and finally dragged myself out of bed at 9:50 a.m.

Marshall still didn't get up until about 10:30, at which point he followed me around the house, whining at me. I swear he was saying, "Let's go back to bed. C'mon. C'mon!"

Bad influence.

Easy Clean

I know. It's been far, far too long. I will blog incessantly till I'm caught up -- in between all the life stuff I got goin' on. Deal? Deal.

So, I just discovered the Easy Clean function on my blender...

1. WHY didn't someone tell me about this sooner?!

2. Why doesn't every blender have one?

I love it. It's the lowest setting, so once I make my morning breakfast smoothie (see previous blog for smoothie details if you are not familiar with why I would need to make a smoothie every morning for breakfast), I can just put some soap in the blender, add water, put it back on the stand, turn the dial to "Easy Clean" and hit On. And the blender cleans itself. All I have to do is rinse.

This is much more convenient than my previous method: Put soap in blender, fill up with hot water, let soak all day until dish-time comes along, then wash and dry with the regular dishes. I don't have a dishwasher, and my dish rack is kinda tiny; blenders take up a lot of space on those things.

I do, for the record, take apart and thoroughly clean my blender once a week. Just so you know.

Green Jasmine Mandarin Tea

... is really quite tasty.

I don't have a favorite type of tea. Green, white, black, oolong, whatever ... I love it all. Infusions, too. I couldn't even tell you whether I prefer infusions or teas. I love them all equally.

The only problem that I've found is, tea doesn't have the same snack-dunking capacity that coffee does. I would never dip a biscotti in my morning black tea. (Unless, possibly, it were strong English Breakfast tea with a splash of milk -- the only additive I ever have in any tea, and the only tea I drink with milk.)

This seems to be a major shortage in the industry. Someone should come up with tea snacks. I bet they have them already and I'm just clueless ... what exactly are crumpets, anyway? Those go with tea, I'm told.

Take Two

I felt pretty productive today, despite not rolling out of bed till 10:30. I uploaded my resume to Monster, applied for a couple more jobs and sent pitches (which I thought I had sent last night ... aw, sheet) through to my former supervisor.

I thought I'd make a list of some things I'm not going to miss about my old job:

* Getting paid less than the work I'm doing is worth.

* Data entry. God help me. I hated doing listings; I hated it so much, it's really indescribable. I would alternate how I dealt with it. Some weeks I would do them all as quickly as possible. Others I would do as little as I had to before Friday and save the rest for the next week. It was a monkey's job, as I used to say. And the search function on our website is so ridiculous that it brought my severe dislike of listings to the level of despair, because I felt it was utterly, utterly pointless. Which brings me to ...

* Our IT team. Some of them were nice. Most of them talked to me like I was an idiot and couldn't possibly understand their big, bad, hard job. When I called them with a problem, the response was invariably: You're not doing it right. It's not the software/website, it's you. And I knew it wasn't ... I'm smart enough to figure out my way around both a website and a software program.

* The disgusting coffee. And the bagels I wasn't allowed to eat.

* How every Friday at around 5 p.m., someone would go through the fridge and throw EVERYTHING out. And how if you were staying later than 5 on Friday, you had to remember to rescue your food. I brought dinner in once because I knew I'd be working late, and guess what happened to it? It got tossed. Along with other perfectly good food ... I lost more than one half of a just-cut-into avocado. Bastards.

That's about all I can come up with right now.

Slack-A-Lackin'

I promised a blog every day to one of my faithful readers ... so you'll get two today since I didn't manage one yesterday.

What have I been up to? Let's see. I drank a bunch of red wine on Monday night. Thankfully, I wasn't hungover yesterday. I did some light cleaning around the house and went into the office to tie up some loose ends. I do have a job there still proofreading and freelancing; it's not the same pay or benefits that I was getting, but heck, it's something.

I went and visited with my brothers, and I watched The Biggest Loser and the first part of Goonies. I also finished polishing up my resume and sent it to two different places.

Tonight I'm going to see The Color Purple on stage. I'm glad I got the invite before the layoff; I love the theater, and it'll be good to milk my going-for-free status to its last drop.

I've also been working out every day. I told one of my naysayer friends my plans for 2009 -- including getting totally ripped -- and she said, "I'll believe that when I see it." It didn't hurt my feelings; far from it. I actually like it when people challenge me like that. It makes it that much sweeter when I meet my goal. Take my buddy who told me, in October 2006, that I'd never be able to quit smoking cigarettes. I haven't even thought about touching one since. And it's so fun sending him the occasional "here's how much I haven't smoked, and here's how much money I've saved" e-mail to mess with him.

I'm finding it hard to balance my time, though. I'm not used to having a whole day to fill up. Which is why I'm going to get off the computer now and take my post-workout shower. At 2:12 p.m. instead of 9 a.m. Yeesh.

Post #100

It seems appropriate that my 100th Honey-Baked Ambs post should have some potentially life-changing subject matter.

I got laid off today. I was one of three people in the editorial department to get the axe. My position was eliminated chainwide, which means other people with my same job in many other cities across the country also got a (not nearly as sexy as it sounds) pink slip.

So, in honor of the centublog, here are my thoughts and feelings on getting laid off:

* I'm sad. I liked my job. I got paid pretty well for it. I got good benefits. I saw myself there for a few more years yet.

* I'm even more upset with G.W.B. than before. We had beef, sure: the war in Iraq, assault on women's rights and failing economy. But now, it's personal. I hate to even admit this, but I was thinking the other day that I'll kind of miss his borderline-retarded manner of speech and the stupid things he says. He's so entertaining. But come January 20, we will both be unemployed, yet he will be jetting back to his carbon footprint-free ranch, and I'll be that much closer to the end of my severance package. Fucker!

* I'm a little bit relieved that something really WAS going on today. I felt this weird vibe in the office today. I couldn't quite pinpoint its source, but I could definitely feel some strange energy, not quite right. There are a million and one reasons why I might have felt this -- I could, for example, have been subconsciously analyzing the actions of those people who knew already that my job was kaput. It doesn't matter; the point is, I KNEW there was something off. And what's even stranger: I kept getting flashes of visions of things like clearing out my desk and what it would be like if I lost my job. I had a strange feeling something like this was looming. So it's a relief to know that a) I wasn't just imagining things, and b) to actually know what was causing that feeling instead of continuing to experience it without any idea whether I'm paranoid or there really is something wrong. There is something wrong; this is it. Now I know.

* I'm also a little bit relieved, period. Don't get me wrong. See point one. I liked my job. But ... I have a lot of talent. I could do more with what I have. And this is going to give me time to evaluate my life. I would like time to study the myriad things in which I am interested. I would like time to write about those things, and maybe even get paid for them. I would like time to work on my fiction writing, and maybe even get published. I would like time to work out and stretch and take care of my body. Now, I have that time. Life is again an open book. I have options ... I already have a second job, as well as options at my old job to supplement my income. Benefits (read: health insurance) is going to be the biggest obstacle, but I can figure it out. I'm young and relatively healthy. I might even save money not paying into a full health plan.

In summary: I'm definitely bummed, but I'm also not oblivious to what this could mean in terms of improving my life. As my wise-beyond-her-years friend told me today: Life goes in cycles. The end of one only signifies the beginning of another. I have a feeling that in three, four, five years, I'll look over my shoulder at this moment and think, "Wow. If I hadn't lost my job, then I never would have met this, that and the other person, and I would never have done one, two or three." You get those turning points in your life that, in retrospect, seem inevitable, and you can see them for what they are: a door opening, an opportunity unfolding. I think that's what this is. I just need to stop being so damn emotional and crying over spilt milk -- or lost employment, as it were.

Resolve!

I usually don't keep my New Year's resolutions ... hell, I'm pretty slack about even making them some years ... but I try to improve different parts of myself every year. Actually, make that every month, week and day. And I think I'm doing better in all aspects of my life now than, say, five years ago.

I'm not making any specific resolutions this year ... or rather, I am making one overarching resolution. I got the idea from this daily mailing I get. It's called the Daily Om. They're usually pretty hippied-out ideas, like, "The next time you're washing dishes by hand, connect with the water flowing between your fingers, and thank it for its cleansing properties." And this one was equally hippied-out. It was about a man who was seeking enlightenment and he asked his teacher whether he should make New Year's resolutions. His teacher thought it was a grand idea and told him to make two lists: One of everything he ever wanted to do or change in his life, goals, hopes, dreams, etc. And one of the practical, everyday changes he could make to get to where he wanted to be.

He stayed up all night making his lists. The next day, he showed them to his teacher, the pared-down list first. The teacher read the list carefully, then crumpled it up and threw it over his shoulder. The student thought, "Aha! He's right! That list was a cop-out. THIS list is the one that matters." And he handed over the complete list. The teacher, again, studied the list carefully, then tore it into pieces.

The student was a bit upset, but then the teacher explained: This list is a list of things you "should" do. And there is only one thing you "should" do to reach and remain enlightened: LOVE.

Everyone all together: Aaaww.

But I started thinking about it, and it kind of makes sense. I already eat pretty well, fairly healthily, but lately I've been thinking about going back to vegetarianism (except fish, including shellfish; I like it too much to ever do that again). I want to see if it feels better, if I'll have more energy. It will take more effort, but it's an act of self-love.

As is everyone's perennial favorite resolution: Exercise. I'm fairly good about that, too, but I want to get RIPPED this year. Like nobody's bidness. I've never had a ripped body, and I also have never done some other things that I feel I want to do ... like run a 5K, or even a 10K, or even a marathon! I want to run a marathon someday. I want to not finish last in the marathon, also.

And it's also about love for others. Like my cat. I call her dready kitty, because she doesn't groom herself, her hair is superfine and mats like crazy, and she has had some serious dreadlocks for a couple of years now. In 2009, I am going to get rid of those dreads. I've been brushing her daily. It's going to take some time, because she is almost completely matted through, but I've already made progress around her neck and shoulders. That is showing love to my cat, who will once again become the fluffy little supermodel she is inside.

And there are others ... love for my family, love for my friends. I want to be better about keeping in touch with people. Love for my spirit; continuing to spend some time every day just working on my relationship with the universe.

Yeah. I'm feeling love. I think I'm going to be journaling, too, to keep track of my progress. That always helps.

Oh, yes, and how was New York? It was all right. Fun, exciting, grand. But also full of concrete, smelly and dirty. I'm not a city girl. I learned that about myself on this vacation. Future vacations will be spent communing with nature instead of with urine-smelling subways.