Tomorrow my bestest friend in the whole world (besides Damon, but she's part of the DAR triumvirate) is coming to stay for an unspecified amount of time!
YAY!
I am so excited I can hardly contain myself.
In other news, something slightly unusual has been going on with our catch-all calendar e-mail address. Either the SPAM filter is letting more stuff through, or there are just more of these e-mails than there used to be. Regardless, there is a marked increase in the number of e-mails seeking men who are unhappy with their penis size.
For some reason, this surprises me. Is penis size really that big of a deal? I always thought it was more about security/insecurity.
Regardless, since the first of the year, the number of "Surprise her with your phenomenal love stick!" e-mails has AT LEAST doubled.
New Year's resolutions? Gearing up for Valentine's Day? I'll keep everyone posted.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
There Will Be Blood
Or rather, there was blood -- taken from my arm -- during my cholesterol test in October. My doctor called me back with the results today.
Good news: My LDL's (good cholesterol) are up, so those are lookin' pretty perfect right now.
Not-so-great news: My HDL's (bad cholesterol) are down, but they're still high for my age. So she suggested the following remedies:
- skim milk
- go easy on the red meat (which I do already)
- eggs ONLY once per week (and Eggbeaters or another substitute is preferable to actual eggs. Since I don't like eggs that much, no big deal.)
- low-fat/no-fat cheese.
- the worst: stay away from yellow cheeses (like cheddar) as they have higher cholesterol levels.
Cheddar cheese is my fave, so that was sad for me to hear.
And in general, I feel weird being 27 years old and making changes in my diet to deal with my cholesterol level. I've touched on this before, but it really sinks in when I'm having conversations with my doctor about what I should and shouldn't be eating.
I've gotten a lot (a LOT) better in my eating habits in the past year and a half, but I still have a ways to go. I need to start implementing a serious exercise program (once a week = not enough, as it turns out, and I'm lucky if I manage to exercise even once a week). I have a stockpile of foods I can make that are healthy; it's just the eating out that kills me. And may actually end up killing me.
It's funny how people seem to have the luxury of eating/doing whatever they want until something happens to make them seriously evaluate how they're living their lives -- I think it's safe to say that most of us want as much time on this planet as we can get, so it makes sense to take steps to prolong your life rather than shorten it. That's common knowledge. But people don't really seem to get it until a major event -- be it a doctor's diagnosis or the death of a loved one or chest pains, whatever -- makes you stop and think about what you're putting into your body and whether it's the best option for you.
It's all about baby steps. I'm better than I was last year. Next year I hope to be truly on the right path. I know how to get there. I just need to suck it up and do it.
Good news: My LDL's (good cholesterol) are up, so those are lookin' pretty perfect right now.
Not-so-great news: My HDL's (bad cholesterol) are down, but they're still high for my age. So she suggested the following remedies:
- skim milk
- go easy on the red meat (which I do already)
- eggs ONLY once per week (and Eggbeaters or another substitute is preferable to actual eggs. Since I don't like eggs that much, no big deal.)
- low-fat/no-fat cheese.
- the worst: stay away from yellow cheeses (like cheddar) as they have higher cholesterol levels.
Cheddar cheese is my fave, so that was sad for me to hear.
And in general, I feel weird being 27 years old and making changes in my diet to deal with my cholesterol level. I've touched on this before, but it really sinks in when I'm having conversations with my doctor about what I should and shouldn't be eating.
I've gotten a lot (a LOT) better in my eating habits in the past year and a half, but I still have a ways to go. I need to start implementing a serious exercise program (once a week = not enough, as it turns out, and I'm lucky if I manage to exercise even once a week). I have a stockpile of foods I can make that are healthy; it's just the eating out that kills me. And may actually end up killing me.
It's funny how people seem to have the luxury of eating/doing whatever they want until something happens to make them seriously evaluate how they're living their lives -- I think it's safe to say that most of us want as much time on this planet as we can get, so it makes sense to take steps to prolong your life rather than shorten it. That's common knowledge. But people don't really seem to get it until a major event -- be it a doctor's diagnosis or the death of a loved one or chest pains, whatever -- makes you stop and think about what you're putting into your body and whether it's the best option for you.
It's all about baby steps. I'm better than I was last year. Next year I hope to be truly on the right path. I know how to get there. I just need to suck it up and do it.
Monday, February 11, 2008
To a Tea
I have become a firm believer in the theory of quitting a bad habit while you are already feeling bad. Last week I was laid up with a sinus infection and the flu; everything that could possibly be wrong with my body, was. I was in some not-inconsiderable pain merely being awake.
Close friends of mine will know how addicted I am to caffeine. Seeing as I don't drink heavily and don't smoke cigarettes, my morning triple latte was one of only a handful of true vices that I have. If I ever forgot to get coffee, I would wind up with a splitting headache around noon that reminded me. So that didn't happen -- coffee was a morning necessity in order for me to function throughout the day.
Well, last weekend that was not possible. Even thinking about coffee first thing in the morning was likely to make me throw up the water or Powerade slush or whatever it was I had managed to drink (and keep down). Coffee isn't kind to stomachs, and even though my head hurt like crazy, it was easier to deal with the head than to try and drink some coffee and see what my stomach did with it. And honestly, I felt so terrible that I didn't even notice the headaches.
When I finally woke up in a condition to go to work, I realized that I was no longer addicted to caffeine. I had battled through the withdrawal during my incapacitation, and so the last thing I wanted to do was to fall back into the habit of drinking an obscene amount of coffee first thing in the morning.
For a week now, I've been drinking tea in the morning -- green tea, with tons of antioxidants. So I've been taking good care of myself and I'm proud of it. I've had two lattes since I quit, and I plan on keeping my espresso machine for treats and late nights when I might actually need it, but I'm happy without my morning dose of Splenda and espresso and milk. And I plan to keep it that way.
I guess the moral of the story is: If you want to give something up, get really sick. You'll be so preoccupied with your ill feeling that you won't miss whatever it is you're trying not to miss.
Close friends of mine will know how addicted I am to caffeine. Seeing as I don't drink heavily and don't smoke cigarettes, my morning triple latte was one of only a handful of true vices that I have. If I ever forgot to get coffee, I would wind up with a splitting headache around noon that reminded me. So that didn't happen -- coffee was a morning necessity in order for me to function throughout the day.
Well, last weekend that was not possible. Even thinking about coffee first thing in the morning was likely to make me throw up the water or Powerade slush or whatever it was I had managed to drink (and keep down). Coffee isn't kind to stomachs, and even though my head hurt like crazy, it was easier to deal with the head than to try and drink some coffee and see what my stomach did with it. And honestly, I felt so terrible that I didn't even notice the headaches.
When I finally woke up in a condition to go to work, I realized that I was no longer addicted to caffeine. I had battled through the withdrawal during my incapacitation, and so the last thing I wanted to do was to fall back into the habit of drinking an obscene amount of coffee first thing in the morning.
For a week now, I've been drinking tea in the morning -- green tea, with tons of antioxidants. So I've been taking good care of myself and I'm proud of it. I've had two lattes since I quit, and I plan on keeping my espresso machine for treats and late nights when I might actually need it, but I'm happy without my morning dose of Splenda and espresso and milk. And I plan to keep it that way.
I guess the moral of the story is: If you want to give something up, get really sick. You'll be so preoccupied with your ill feeling that you won't miss whatever it is you're trying not to miss.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
blame Canada
Here's a rundown of the trip so far:
Arrived late Friday night.
Saturday morning, Graham (my dad's old colleague) picked us up with his girlfriend, Virginia (I had never met a Virginia before then) and drove us up to Whistler. On the way, he picked up a friend of his, Emma, who lives on Vancouver Island. Emma was showing Graham (and Virginia) a house in Pemberton that Graham is thinking about purchasing and fixing up. They dropped my mom and I off in Whistler and we spent the day walking around, shopping, listening to all the different accents. It got really cold and started snowing hard at one point, so we hunkered down in a coffee shop for a few hours, then when the three of them came back, we all went out to dinner.
The drive back to the hotel was nuts; snow everywhere. Graham and Emma talked about film -- apparently, Graham has financed a movie coming out soon with Darryl Hannah (it's called Vice) and Emma is also very into the film industry, so it was fun to hear them talk about it.
When we got back, I was trying to get on the computer and decided to go downstairs to the business center. I'd forgotten my room key, so I came back up and caught my mother crying. I asked if she'd waited till I left to start, and she said yes. She fell asleep while I messed around on MySpace, then I told her I was going downstairs for a glass of wine. She said she'd come with, so we went to the lounge.
As we're sitting there, drinking our wine, these two men sitting across from us ask to buy us a drink. We say no, we're almost done and we don't need another, but my mom said we'd come over and finish our wine with them (this all started because the drunker, older man told me we were beautiful. Aw. how sweet). I know the older man was 67 cause he asked me to guess his age and I guessed correctly. I wasn't altogether comfortable but I thought it might be good for my mom to get some attention of that nature. They end up buying us another drink and we're sitting and chatting (Dirty Old Man telling me he has six kids with three different women, he didn't treat any of the mothers right because he was too busy making money, etc. etc.). I was starting to get tired so I paid our server separately; not too long after that, they started being the typical drunks, not wanting to leave when it's time for them to leave, harassing the server, telling him to go back to China (he was Asian). I was like, "Mom, I paid, let's go," so we did.
I woke up this morning with a hangover, surprise surprise. My hangovers generally take the form of stomach versus head, so I really could have used some alternative medicine at that point. If you catch my drift. We went and grabbed breakfast, then had all day to kill, so we walked down to the Granville Island water bus and went over there. It was super cute, like a whole island full of markets and cute stores and fun galleries, it was just a blast. We made a friend in Crush, he was a flaming gay guy, half Canadian, half American. He was awesome. I had a BC salmon roll which was delicious. I'd been a little worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the water bus, but my super-greasy breakfast took care of that fear (yay, country-fried steak and eggs!).
On our way back from the island, we stopped at Davis Street, which is the gay street in Vancouver (literally). We shopped some more and then left, I got some cute clothes and some new books. I tried to keep my mom from spending money on me ... she talks to me about how she hasn't gotten last year's tax refund yet, she really needs it because she was counting on it and she doesn't know what she's going to do if it doesn't come in. I know I'm not the best with money and I don't have a ton, so I spirited my purchases away from her whenever possible. But it's hard, she's so used to buying me stuff and I've only in recent years learned to put my foot down and not waver if it's something I know I don't need, because if I say "yes, it's cute," she'll buy it for me. So, mean what you say and say what you mean is the lesson there.
So overall, it's been a fun, awesome trip, except for one aspect. I really, really, REALLY wish my mother would get into therapy. She needs it. I don't mean that in a negative, mean way -- I just mean she is having serious trouble letting go, particularly letting go of all the craziness in Australia surrounding my dad's death. I'm not going into the whole story now, suffice to say that the hospital put in one stent when they needed four and there has been crazy hassle with the bills and the Consulate and everything. Some of her Aussie friends have been sending her messages saying things like, "Paul would want you to be moving on and enjoying life," Pollyanna shit like that. And it really bothers her. She says, "Paul also didn't want to leave when he did. How would they know what Paul wants?" I see her point. I think these people are just trying to offer support and empathy the best way they know how. It just happens that they're going about it entirely the wrong way, but the intention is good.
The thing that's been bothering me is, my mother has this serious aversion to all things Aussie now that everything has gone down the way it has. Last night she was saying that if Marcus (the dude bringing the ashes over) says anything about how great Australia is, she's going to correct him. I asked her how her feelings would change if some of the people -- who have been all gung-ho about how great the hospital and the health care system down there is -- would acknowledge that the hospital seriously fucked up and the system wasn't perfect. (Someone at one point already said, "mistakes happen," re: the death, which for those reading, is NOT the right thing to say, remotely, whatsoever.) My point was that I don't think that other people's opinions changing is going to make her feel better. But she thinks it is. When we were on Davis Street, she heard someone in a shop (from Perth) speaking, and someone else saying how much they enjoyed Australia when they were there. And she said she just felt this awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. She says she knows she shouldn't feel that way about all things Australian, but she can't help it. This seemed like the appropriate time for me to bring up post-traumatic stress disorder and the therapies available; she said she'd been to one or two therapy sessions and they made her feel worse. She doesn't want to try again.
I feel like if she could let go of some of these feelings, it would be better for her. It is simply not healthy to be harboring dislike for an entire country based on one experience. I can see why she feels that way, but that doesn't mean it's good for her. I don't think my mother is the most forgiving person on the planet, and I've made peace with that because it has affected my life. I also have realized why I have a tendency to withhold information from people, even when that might not be strictly necessary. I found out that she had breast cancer and they did a surgery on it when she had her nose thingy done last year or in late '06, I can't remember. That's kind of something I think she should have shared with me sooner, I know she didn't want me to worry, but I need to know these things so I can tell my own doctor.
It's just so hard to watch someone I love so much go through what she's going through, while she's refusing to reach out for help or support. She thinks she has to do it all herself and she's trying to protect me and my brothers. I just really, really wish she would bite the bullet and get herself someone to talk to who can really help her work through these feelings and figure out where to go and what to do next. I think she feels lost, and I don't know how to help her any more than I have been, beyond playing therapist and asking her the same kinds of questions that Kathy would ask me. I don't know how much that helps, she might be modifying her answers based on what she thinks I need to hear. I just feel like there's something in her that's broken, and I can sense it, and I want badly to be able to fix it.
But, I can't.
Arrived late Friday night.
Saturday morning, Graham (my dad's old colleague) picked us up with his girlfriend, Virginia (I had never met a Virginia before then) and drove us up to Whistler. On the way, he picked up a friend of his, Emma, who lives on Vancouver Island. Emma was showing Graham (and Virginia) a house in Pemberton that Graham is thinking about purchasing and fixing up. They dropped my mom and I off in Whistler and we spent the day walking around, shopping, listening to all the different accents. It got really cold and started snowing hard at one point, so we hunkered down in a coffee shop for a few hours, then when the three of them came back, we all went out to dinner.
The drive back to the hotel was nuts; snow everywhere. Graham and Emma talked about film -- apparently, Graham has financed a movie coming out soon with Darryl Hannah (it's called Vice) and Emma is also very into the film industry, so it was fun to hear them talk about it.
When we got back, I was trying to get on the computer and decided to go downstairs to the business center. I'd forgotten my room key, so I came back up and caught my mother crying. I asked if she'd waited till I left to start, and she said yes. She fell asleep while I messed around on MySpace, then I told her I was going downstairs for a glass of wine. She said she'd come with, so we went to the lounge.
As we're sitting there, drinking our wine, these two men sitting across from us ask to buy us a drink. We say no, we're almost done and we don't need another, but my mom said we'd come over and finish our wine with them (this all started because the drunker, older man told me we were beautiful. Aw. how sweet). I know the older man was 67 cause he asked me to guess his age and I guessed correctly. I wasn't altogether comfortable but I thought it might be good for my mom to get some attention of that nature. They end up buying us another drink and we're sitting and chatting (Dirty Old Man telling me he has six kids with three different women, he didn't treat any of the mothers right because he was too busy making money, etc. etc.). I was starting to get tired so I paid our server separately; not too long after that, they started being the typical drunks, not wanting to leave when it's time for them to leave, harassing the server, telling him to go back to China (he was Asian). I was like, "Mom, I paid, let's go," so we did.
I woke up this morning with a hangover, surprise surprise. My hangovers generally take the form of stomach versus head, so I really could have used some alternative medicine at that point. If you catch my drift. We went and grabbed breakfast, then had all day to kill, so we walked down to the Granville Island water bus and went over there. It was super cute, like a whole island full of markets and cute stores and fun galleries, it was just a blast. We made a friend in Crush, he was a flaming gay guy, half Canadian, half American. He was awesome. I had a BC salmon roll which was delicious. I'd been a little worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the water bus, but my super-greasy breakfast took care of that fear (yay, country-fried steak and eggs!).
On our way back from the island, we stopped at Davis Street, which is the gay street in Vancouver (literally). We shopped some more and then left, I got some cute clothes and some new books. I tried to keep my mom from spending money on me ... she talks to me about how she hasn't gotten last year's tax refund yet, she really needs it because she was counting on it and she doesn't know what she's going to do if it doesn't come in. I know I'm not the best with money and I don't have a ton, so I spirited my purchases away from her whenever possible. But it's hard, she's so used to buying me stuff and I've only in recent years learned to put my foot down and not waver if it's something I know I don't need, because if I say "yes, it's cute," she'll buy it for me. So, mean what you say and say what you mean is the lesson there.
So overall, it's been a fun, awesome trip, except for one aspect. I really, really, REALLY wish my mother would get into therapy. She needs it. I don't mean that in a negative, mean way -- I just mean she is having serious trouble letting go, particularly letting go of all the craziness in Australia surrounding my dad's death. I'm not going into the whole story now, suffice to say that the hospital put in one stent when they needed four and there has been crazy hassle with the bills and the Consulate and everything. Some of her Aussie friends have been sending her messages saying things like, "Paul would want you to be moving on and enjoying life," Pollyanna shit like that. And it really bothers her. She says, "Paul also didn't want to leave when he did. How would they know what Paul wants?" I see her point. I think these people are just trying to offer support and empathy the best way they know how. It just happens that they're going about it entirely the wrong way, but the intention is good.
The thing that's been bothering me is, my mother has this serious aversion to all things Aussie now that everything has gone down the way it has. Last night she was saying that if Marcus (the dude bringing the ashes over) says anything about how great Australia is, she's going to correct him. I asked her how her feelings would change if some of the people -- who have been all gung-ho about how great the hospital and the health care system down there is -- would acknowledge that the hospital seriously fucked up and the system wasn't perfect. (Someone at one point already said, "mistakes happen," re: the death, which for those reading, is NOT the right thing to say, remotely, whatsoever.) My point was that I don't think that other people's opinions changing is going to make her feel better. But she thinks it is. When we were on Davis Street, she heard someone in a shop (from Perth) speaking, and someone else saying how much they enjoyed Australia when they were there. And she said she just felt this awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. She says she knows she shouldn't feel that way about all things Australian, but she can't help it. This seemed like the appropriate time for me to bring up post-traumatic stress disorder and the therapies available; she said she'd been to one or two therapy sessions and they made her feel worse. She doesn't want to try again.
I feel like if she could let go of some of these feelings, it would be better for her. It is simply not healthy to be harboring dislike for an entire country based on one experience. I can see why she feels that way, but that doesn't mean it's good for her. I don't think my mother is the most forgiving person on the planet, and I've made peace with that because it has affected my life. I also have realized why I have a tendency to withhold information from people, even when that might not be strictly necessary. I found out that she had breast cancer and they did a surgery on it when she had her nose thingy done last year or in late '06, I can't remember. That's kind of something I think she should have shared with me sooner, I know she didn't want me to worry, but I need to know these things so I can tell my own doctor.
It's just so hard to watch someone I love so much go through what she's going through, while she's refusing to reach out for help or support. She thinks she has to do it all herself and she's trying to protect me and my brothers. I just really, really wish she would bite the bullet and get herself someone to talk to who can really help her work through these feelings and figure out where to go and what to do next. I think she feels lost, and I don't know how to help her any more than I have been, beyond playing therapist and asking her the same kinds of questions that Kathy would ask me. I don't know how much that helps, she might be modifying her answers based on what she thinks I need to hear. I just feel like there's something in her that's broken, and I can sense it, and I want badly to be able to fix it.
But, I can't.
Monday, January 21, 2008
good times
I just got to talk to Tommy Chong! (Yes, of Cheech and Chong.)
He is officially the only man who can call me "babe," besides Damon, and not offend me. He's just too cute. And yes, that is my inner feminist speaking.
Also: The insurance company decided that I was right and will only accept 50 percent liability. So BMW lady has to pay for her own damages.
She was really rude to the representative, apparently, so I'm not sure if they ruled in my favor because I was actually right or because I was nice.
I hope it was because I was right; I'd hate to have this warm fuzzy feeling just because someone else doesn't think it's in her best interest to be polite to everybody.
He is officially the only man who can call me "babe," besides Damon, and not offend me. He's just too cute. And yes, that is my inner feminist speaking.
Also: The insurance company decided that I was right and will only accept 50 percent liability. So BMW lady has to pay for her own damages.
She was really rude to the representative, apparently, so I'm not sure if they ruled in my favor because I was actually right or because I was nice.
I hope it was because I was right; I'd hate to have this warm fuzzy feeling just because someone else doesn't think it's in her best interest to be polite to everybody.
Monday, January 14, 2008
smarts
40 Tips for an Exceptional, Superb & Powerful Life
1. Take a 10-30 minute walk every day and while you walk, smile. It is the ultimate anti-depressant.
2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.
3. Buy a TiVo (DVR), tape your late night shows and get more sleep.
4. When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement, "My purpose is to__________ today."
5. Live with the 3 Es - Energy, Enthusiasm, Empathy, and the 3 Fs - Faith, Family, Friends.
6. Watch more G movies, play more games with friends and read more books than you did in 2007.
7. Make time to practice meditation and prayer. They provide us with daily fuel for our busy lives.
8. Spend more time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of six.
9. Dream more while you are awake.
10. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less foods that are manufactured in plants.
11. Drink some green tea and plenty of water. Eat blueberries, seafood, broccoli, almonds & walnuts.
12. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
13. Clear your clutter from your house, your car, and your desk and let new energy into your life.
14. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip, energy vampires, issues of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead, invest your energy in the positive present moment.
15. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn and pass all your tests. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
16. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a college kid with a maxed out charge card.
17. Smile and laugh more. It will keep the energy vampires away.
18. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
20. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
21. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
22. Make peace with your past, so it won't mess up the present.
23. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
24. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"
27. Forgive everyone for everything.
28. What other people think of you is none of your business.
29. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.
30. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
31. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
32. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
33. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
34. The best is yet to come.
35. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
36. Do the right thing!
37. Call your family often.
38. Each night before you go to bed complete the following statements: "I am thankful for __________." "Today I accomplished _________."
39. Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.
40. Enjoy the ride. Remember that this is not Disney World and you certainly don't want a fast pass. Make the most of it.
1. Take a 10-30 minute walk every day and while you walk, smile. It is the ultimate anti-depressant.
2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.
3. Buy a TiVo (DVR), tape your late night shows and get more sleep.
4. When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement, "My purpose is to__________ today."
5. Live with the 3 Es - Energy, Enthusiasm, Empathy, and the 3 Fs - Faith, Family, Friends.
6. Watch more G movies, play more games with friends and read more books than you did in 2007.
7. Make time to practice meditation and prayer. They provide us with daily fuel for our busy lives.
8. Spend more time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of six.
9. Dream more while you are awake.
10. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less foods that are manufactured in plants.
11. Drink some green tea and plenty of water. Eat blueberries, seafood, broccoli, almonds & walnuts.
12. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
13. Clear your clutter from your house, your car, and your desk and let new energy into your life.
14. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip, energy vampires, issues of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead, invest your energy in the positive present moment.
15. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn and pass all your tests. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
16. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a college kid with a maxed out charge card.
17. Smile and laugh more. It will keep the energy vampires away.
18. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
20. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
21. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
22. Make peace with your past, so it won't mess up the present.
23. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
24. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"
27. Forgive everyone for everything.
28. What other people think of you is none of your business.
29. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.
30. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
31. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
32. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
33. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
34. The best is yet to come.
35. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
36. Do the right thing!
37. Call your family often.
38. Each night before you go to bed complete the following statements: "I am thankful for __________." "Today I accomplished _________."
39. Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.
40. Enjoy the ride. Remember that this is not Disney World and you certainly don't want a fast pass. Make the most of it.
crash! bang!
I know why I'm sad, by the way. It's because I miss my dad. Duh.
On Saturday, when I was buying groceries, I backed out of my parking spot. Another women (driving a BMW, no less) was also backing out of her spot.
We collided.
We assessed the damage. My tank of a '93 Volvo was fine. Her sedan had a scuff and a dent in her bumper.
I gave her my insurance information because I could tell she was going to be a bitch if I didn't. I did not admit fault. In fact, while leaving the parking lot, I called my insurance company so I could be the first to explain what happened.
I was not paying attention; I fully admit that. But neither was she.
So today my claims representative (who is very nice) called and said they would probably close the claim; if it was fifty-fifty fault, then my insurance would pay for my damages (none) and her insurance would pay for her damages (some).
She did not like that, according to my claims rep. She said she was fully pulled out of her parking spot when I hit her. This is not how I recall events, but who knows?
So tomorrow, the rep has to come assess the damage to my car.
I wonder what will happen? Not in an I'm -scared-my-premiums-will-go-up way (although they might), but in a curious, detached way.
It's a car. It's scratched. It doesn't really matter. I am amazed that people like her have the energy to seethe about something so trivial.
But then again, it's not my BMW.
On Saturday, when I was buying groceries, I backed out of my parking spot. Another women (driving a BMW, no less) was also backing out of her spot.
We collided.
We assessed the damage. My tank of a '93 Volvo was fine. Her sedan had a scuff and a dent in her bumper.
I gave her my insurance information because I could tell she was going to be a bitch if I didn't. I did not admit fault. In fact, while leaving the parking lot, I called my insurance company so I could be the first to explain what happened.
I was not paying attention; I fully admit that. But neither was she.
So today my claims representative (who is very nice) called and said they would probably close the claim; if it was fifty-fifty fault, then my insurance would pay for my damages (none) and her insurance would pay for her damages (some).
She did not like that, according to my claims rep. She said she was fully pulled out of her parking spot when I hit her. This is not how I recall events, but who knows?
So tomorrow, the rep has to come assess the damage to my car.
I wonder what will happen? Not in an I'm -scared-my-premiums-will-go-up way (although they might), but in a curious, detached way.
It's a car. It's scratched. It doesn't really matter. I am amazed that people like her have the energy to seethe about something so trivial.
But then again, it's not my BMW.
Friday, January 11, 2008
riding the wave
Sometimes, for what seems like no reason whatsoever, I get really sad.
Today is one of those times.
I'm sad.
Today is one of those times.
I'm sad.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Walking in a Winter Wonderland
Friends and neighbors know that I complain a lot about my current state of affairs (which goes into effect when Damon leaves for an opening). It involves bedtime every night at 10 p.m. to prepare myself for a 6 a.m. rising so I can be at the dog park with my dog at 7 a.m., bright and early.
I love to sleep, okay? LOVE IT. More than just about anything. But because of Daylight Savings, I don't get home in time to walk the dog when it's still light outside. And it seems wrong to deprive Marshall of his daily exercise/outside time just because I'm lazy and don't want to get out of bed.
This morning was especially cold. It snowed last night, so there was two or three inches of powder on the ground for Marshall to romp through, which he loves. It was quiet and very cold -- my water bottle quit opening easily toward the end of our hour-long walk, because it was frozen shut, and a skin of ice was forming around the edges. There's hardly anyone at the park at that hour, so it's just me and the dog and his romp and my thoughts.
And my thoughts were basically this: I bitch too much about getting up early to go for our walk. I have coffee, for a start, which makes everything better. And it's gorgeous! Especially with the fresh snow. As the sun started to rise, it hit the mountains first and turned them all these lovely shades of pink and gold. Very, very pretty. The lakes are both frozen over and dusted with snow. Even though the sun doesn't peek over the horizon (when you're at the dog park) until around 7:30 a.m., seeing its return is just amazing every single morning.
I love nature. That's all.
I love to sleep, okay? LOVE IT. More than just about anything. But because of Daylight Savings, I don't get home in time to walk the dog when it's still light outside. And it seems wrong to deprive Marshall of his daily exercise/outside time just because I'm lazy and don't want to get out of bed.
This morning was especially cold. It snowed last night, so there was two or three inches of powder on the ground for Marshall to romp through, which he loves. It was quiet and very cold -- my water bottle quit opening easily toward the end of our hour-long walk, because it was frozen shut, and a skin of ice was forming around the edges. There's hardly anyone at the park at that hour, so it's just me and the dog and his romp and my thoughts.
And my thoughts were basically this: I bitch too much about getting up early to go for our walk. I have coffee, for a start, which makes everything better. And it's gorgeous! Especially with the fresh snow. As the sun started to rise, it hit the mountains first and turned them all these lovely shades of pink and gold. Very, very pretty. The lakes are both frozen over and dusted with snow. Even though the sun doesn't peek over the horizon (when you're at the dog park) until around 7:30 a.m., seeing its return is just amazing every single morning.
I love nature. That's all.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
love it/hate it
Hate:
*Receiving Glamour in the mail instead of Jane. Because Jane folded. Because they fired Jane Pratt. Because she was too subversive. Which is the reason 99% of Jane readers subscribed in the first place. Oops!
*The stupid hair tips in magazines such as Glamour. One of them for the "Best New Year Hair EVER!" suggested that instead of straightening all my hair, I could just straighten the top layer, and no one would know the difference! Wrong! Because my hair happens to be thick, thicker than the sun is hot. So the primary reason I straighten it is to get the de-pouffing action that straightening brings to my head. Straightening just the BOTTOM layer -- now, that might work. But Glamour isn't thinking of girls like me, girls with abnormal hair of any caliber, when they write those stupid tips.
*Collapsed sewer lines.
Love, love, love, love, love:
*That's a lot of loves, and there's only one item that qualifies, but it's worthy. Oh, is it worthy. My Diva Cup. I heart this thing! You know (well, males don't, but everyone else probably does) how when you're surfing the crimson wave, or whatever euphemism for menstruation you would like to use, you're always on Tampon Alert. As in: Do I have enough tampons at my house? Should I go buy some tampons? Do I need the heavy, medium or light flow? Or some combination thereof, which inevitably costs more? I'm leaving the house now; do I have enough tampons to take with me? Do I have enough tampons OF EVERY SIZE to take with me? Now I changed my purse and forgot my tampons. Shit. Does my friend have tampons? Oh, she does, but it's the brand I HATE. Could I wear a pad for a little bit? (No.)
Well, no more of that nonsense for this girl. I invested in the Diva Cup ($35, and worth ten times that amount, since it's lifetime guaranteed and tampons are expensive considering where they go). So as soon as I knew it was around time to start, I threw it in my purse (complete with lovely purple carrying pouch) and made sure I had it with me at all times. That's the hardest part. Then I started, but I had my cup -- no worries. So I have to live with my mom for the time being (result of one of the hates above) and as I'm leaving the house, I'm thinking, "what personal items do I need?" Tampons did not make the list, because I didn't need them. Because I have my cup.
Which, by the way, I can leave in as long (or longer, depending on the day of my cycle and flow level) as a tampon, and it won't absorb anything it's not supposed to, and it won't give me toxic shock syndrome, and it's made of silicone and is easy to use and easy to clean. It is my most favorite thing right now.
*Receiving Glamour in the mail instead of Jane. Because Jane folded. Because they fired Jane Pratt. Because she was too subversive. Which is the reason 99% of Jane readers subscribed in the first place. Oops!
*The stupid hair tips in magazines such as Glamour. One of them for the "Best New Year Hair EVER!" suggested that instead of straightening all my hair, I could just straighten the top layer, and no one would know the difference! Wrong! Because my hair happens to be thick, thicker than the sun is hot. So the primary reason I straighten it is to get the de-pouffing action that straightening brings to my head. Straightening just the BOTTOM layer -- now, that might work. But Glamour isn't thinking of girls like me, girls with abnormal hair of any caliber, when they write those stupid tips.
*Collapsed sewer lines.
Love, love, love, love, love:
*That's a lot of loves, and there's only one item that qualifies, but it's worthy. Oh, is it worthy. My Diva Cup. I heart this thing! You know (well, males don't, but everyone else probably does) how when you're surfing the crimson wave, or whatever euphemism for menstruation you would like to use, you're always on Tampon Alert. As in: Do I have enough tampons at my house? Should I go buy some tampons? Do I need the heavy, medium or light flow? Or some combination thereof, which inevitably costs more? I'm leaving the house now; do I have enough tampons to take with me? Do I have enough tampons OF EVERY SIZE to take with me? Now I changed my purse and forgot my tampons. Shit. Does my friend have tampons? Oh, she does, but it's the brand I HATE. Could I wear a pad for a little bit? (No.)
Well, no more of that nonsense for this girl. I invested in the Diva Cup ($35, and worth ten times that amount, since it's lifetime guaranteed and tampons are expensive considering where they go). So as soon as I knew it was around time to start, I threw it in my purse (complete with lovely purple carrying pouch) and made sure I had it with me at all times. That's the hardest part. Then I started, but I had my cup -- no worries. So I have to live with my mom for the time being (result of one of the hates above) and as I'm leaving the house, I'm thinking, "what personal items do I need?" Tampons did not make the list, because I didn't need them. Because I have my cup.
Which, by the way, I can leave in as long (or longer, depending on the day of my cycle and flow level) as a tampon, and it won't absorb anything it's not supposed to, and it won't give me toxic shock syndrome, and it's made of silicone and is easy to use and easy to clean. It is my most favorite thing right now.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
what else is there to say?
I am continually astounded by the tendency to not use the English language as the Good Queen intended.
Granted, we are no longer a colony of England. But I really don't see any reason why, in text messaging (and slowly infiltrating e-mail), people need to use the letter "u" to indicate "you," which is only two more letters. Text-talk bugs me, probably more than anything else.
But really what astounds me is the Teenager these days. I have had to deal with a couple of these Teenagers, who generally contact me with requests to pick my brain about what it takes to become a Writer. And I didn't think it would be possible to be astounded by Teenagers, because I'm still closely related to one and see him on a regular basis.
However, I would like to just put this out there for any Teenagers who may be reading and want a little bit of advice: When you are exploring a career, and this career involves the communications industry, and more specifically, this career would require you to write, and to write well, and to write intelligently, and to use proper spelling/grammar/punctuation/capitalization, when necessary, then perhaps you should apply some of those skills in your communications. Wild idea, I know.
And yes, I realize that Hunter Thompson et. al. may have rocked the boat a little bit with New Journalism, but you don't want to be the person whom my editor refers to as "that one who can't spell" when she overhears me discussing possibilities with another editor.
Also, when you're meeting with someone who could help you in your upcoming career, it is best NOT to regale them with stories about how irresponsible you/your friends/your family members' significant others are. Or how you don't like rules or guidelines. You can be a rebel, but try to do it with ideas, not punctuation.
I do sympathize more than most; I was in the unenviable position of making a complete ass of myself while stuck in an interview a few months ago with a (luckily) freewheeling author of books about subversive ideas. I know what it's like to project a personality that does not shed the best light upon you, and to leave an interview thinking, "God, I was just SUCH an idiot just then!"
But please, Teenagers, please, please, please, for the love of all things holy -- speak properly and write properly if you want a job. For reals. It's not brain surgery, it's just common sense.
Granted, we are no longer a colony of England. But I really don't see any reason why, in text messaging (and slowly infiltrating e-mail), people need to use the letter "u" to indicate "you," which is only two more letters. Text-talk bugs me, probably more than anything else.
But really what astounds me is the Teenager these days. I have had to deal with a couple of these Teenagers, who generally contact me with requests to pick my brain about what it takes to become a Writer. And I didn't think it would be possible to be astounded by Teenagers, because I'm still closely related to one and see him on a regular basis.
However, I would like to just put this out there for any Teenagers who may be reading and want a little bit of advice: When you are exploring a career, and this career involves the communications industry, and more specifically, this career would require you to write, and to write well, and to write intelligently, and to use proper spelling/grammar/punctuation/capitalization, when necessary, then perhaps you should apply some of those skills in your communications. Wild idea, I know.
And yes, I realize that Hunter Thompson et. al. may have rocked the boat a little bit with New Journalism, but you don't want to be the person whom my editor refers to as "that one who can't spell" when she overhears me discussing possibilities with another editor.
Also, when you're meeting with someone who could help you in your upcoming career, it is best NOT to regale them with stories about how irresponsible you/your friends/your family members' significant others are. Or how you don't like rules or guidelines. You can be a rebel, but try to do it with ideas, not punctuation.
I do sympathize more than most; I was in the unenviable position of making a complete ass of myself while stuck in an interview a few months ago with a (luckily) freewheeling author of books about subversive ideas. I know what it's like to project a personality that does not shed the best light upon you, and to leave an interview thinking, "God, I was just SUCH an idiot just then!"
But please, Teenagers, please, please, please, for the love of all things holy -- speak properly and write properly if you want a job. For reals. It's not brain surgery, it's just common sense.
Monday, November 26, 2007
The Hunt Has Ended!
I moved back to Colorado more than two years ago and settled immediately in Morrison. The downsides of living in Morrison are the concert traffic in the summertime and the lack of food delivery.
Most places won't deliver food west of C-470, which is less than a mile away from my house. And leaving Columbia, which has tons of delivery options, for a place with none was definitely difficult. Picture it: You're at home, you're hungry, you don't want to cook, you don't want to leave the house. But those last two are mutually exclusive. Either you cook or you leave. No other options.
We had heard about a place that delivered, Guido's, but several Google searches yielded nothing. All seemed lost.
But then ... THEN ... while driving down Morrison Road one day, in between 470 and Kipling, I happened to look north while idling at a stoplight. There I spotted a Diamond Shamrock, which happens to hold Bank of America ATMs, which is a fee-less ATM for me, so I'm always on the lookout. And this one was the closest yet to my house.
Then, while frequenting said gas station when in need of cash, I noticed some businesses that might come in useful, like a Subway and a dry-cleaner and some place called Guido's.
Lo and behold, when D and I went to frequent Guido's, we discovered that this was the Guido's, our very own great white whale of delivery. Last night we had pizza delivered to the house (with garlic bread and tomato sauce). And it was awesome.
I feel like Captain Ahab when he finally encountered Moby Dick after his long, tireless search. Except instead of sinking my ship the Pequod and drowning the crew, Guido's brought me fresh, hot pizza, straight to my door, without me having to take a step outside my home.
Most places won't deliver food west of C-470, which is less than a mile away from my house. And leaving Columbia, which has tons of delivery options, for a place with none was definitely difficult. Picture it: You're at home, you're hungry, you don't want to cook, you don't want to leave the house. But those last two are mutually exclusive. Either you cook or you leave. No other options.
We had heard about a place that delivered, Guido's, but several Google searches yielded nothing. All seemed lost.
But then ... THEN ... while driving down Morrison Road one day, in between 470 and Kipling, I happened to look north while idling at a stoplight. There I spotted a Diamond Shamrock, which happens to hold Bank of America ATMs, which is a fee-less ATM for me, so I'm always on the lookout. And this one was the closest yet to my house.
Then, while frequenting said gas station when in need of cash, I noticed some businesses that might come in useful, like a Subway and a dry-cleaner and some place called Guido's.
Lo and behold, when D and I went to frequent Guido's, we discovered that this was the Guido's, our very own great white whale of delivery. Last night we had pizza delivered to the house (with garlic bread and tomato sauce). And it was awesome.
I feel like Captain Ahab when he finally encountered Moby Dick after his long, tireless search. Except instead of sinking my ship the Pequod and drowning the crew, Guido's brought me fresh, hot pizza, straight to my door, without me having to take a step outside my home.
Monday, November 19, 2007
things that are pissing me off right this very second
1. Clowns on the internet who think that racial slurs aren't racial if they don't use them racially. For example: "So-and-so is nothing more than a stupid n*****. And I don't mean that racially -- I call everyone who is stupid and low-class by that word."
Okay, moron, here's the thing: YOU might not think that word has racial connotations. But the last time I checked, 99.9% of people in this country DO think it has racial connotations. So, guess what? IT HAS RACIAL CONNOTATIONS. You can live in your own little bubble and make up your own little definitions, but that doesn't mean anyone else has to agree with you.
2. People who say they will do something, and then -- inexplicably -- fail to complete said task.
3. #2, but add excuses.
Okay, moron, here's the thing: YOU might not think that word has racial connotations. But the last time I checked, 99.9% of people in this country DO think it has racial connotations. So, guess what? IT HAS RACIAL CONNOTATIONS. You can live in your own little bubble and make up your own little definitions, but that doesn't mean anyone else has to agree with you.
2. People who say they will do something, and then -- inexplicably -- fail to complete said task.
3. #2, but add excuses.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Rock Star
I've mentioned before in this blog that I don't have a CD player in the car I usually drive, so I have my programmed radio stations that cover pretty much every station I would possibly, remotely listen to.
On Alice (105.9 FM), they play that damn "Rock Star" song by Nickelback every hour, it seems like. I've heard bits and pieces of it so many times that I think I could sing the whole damn thing with no problem. I've listened to it all the way through once, maybe.
I suspect the song is an attempt at sarcasm, but Nickelback isn't as skilled as, say, Andre 3000 (I still get a kick out of listening to "Hey Ya" -- particularly the part where he says, "Y'all don't wanna hear me, you just wanna dance," because it's true. That song got so much radio play and I don't think 95 percent of the people singing along had any clue what they were singing). But unlike Outkast's music, I actively resent "Rock Star."
Because guess what? I DON'T want to be a big rock star, live in a hilltop house with fifteen cars, a bathroom I can play baseball in and a house on Cribs and all of that other tripe they discuss. I understand, with their references to golddiggers and drug abuse, that Nickelback is making a statement about the inanity of celebrity life. Or something. But really, it sounds more like glorification than condemnation, and I doubt there are many listeners out there who are applying critical thinking to their Nickelback.
Can't someone sing about the dissolution of the ego for a change?
On Alice (105.9 FM), they play that damn "Rock Star" song by Nickelback every hour, it seems like. I've heard bits and pieces of it so many times that I think I could sing the whole damn thing with no problem. I've listened to it all the way through once, maybe.
I suspect the song is an attempt at sarcasm, but Nickelback isn't as skilled as, say, Andre 3000 (I still get a kick out of listening to "Hey Ya" -- particularly the part where he says, "Y'all don't wanna hear me, you just wanna dance," because it's true. That song got so much radio play and I don't think 95 percent of the people singing along had any clue what they were singing). But unlike Outkast's music, I actively resent "Rock Star."
Because guess what? I DON'T want to be a big rock star, live in a hilltop house with fifteen cars, a bathroom I can play baseball in and a house on Cribs and all of that other tripe they discuss. I understand, with their references to golddiggers and drug abuse, that Nickelback is making a statement about the inanity of celebrity life. Or something. But really, it sounds more like glorification than condemnation, and I doubt there are many listeners out there who are applying critical thinking to their Nickelback.
Can't someone sing about the dissolution of the ego for a change?
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