January 1 I started getting serious. I was going to become a lean, mean fighting machine this year (okay, I was going to lose 15 lbs and get kinda toned). Except for my birthday week (a couple of times eating out, there may have been a few desserts), I've done well. I've lowered my calories, upped my fruits and veggies, cut back on gluten...cheese has been harder to give up.
I've worked out THIRTY times in January. 3-0. I did a variety of workouts, including the elliptical and rowing machine. I did a lot more strength training than I initially thought I would. I like strength training, it's a nice kind of hurt. As I type, I've been going on 2 weeks of muscle fatigue in my arms. I'm switching up the strength training, and try not to do it two days in a row, but I had to squeeze a few more workouts in this past week to make up for laziness earlier this month. Anyway, the short story is that my arms are "fatigued."
All of the above, and I'm down a measly 1.2 pounds in January. Mind you, I gained 2 pounds over the Christmas break, so I'm still up 0.8 over December 15th.
This seems so discouraging. I know it's not all about the stupid number, but I would like to see some reward at the scale. There have been a few benefits to my increased workouts and decreased food intake:
- My arms feel much more toned. Like I could participate in an arm wrestling contest with someone under the age of 5 and actually win.
- My breathing feels more efficient.
Ummm, that's all, folks. Hopefully I'll have more exciting news to report in February. Like I am able to benchpress my weight and lost 129 lbs in one month.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Another Week is almost here
I haven't checked in for a while. I guess there's things going on, but I suppose I don't want to blog about them.
I've been watching lots of indie movies lately. I ♥ indie movies. And stand-up comedy. And psychological thrillers. And slasher flicks. This weekend I watched "Sunshine Cleaning" and "Cry of the Owl." Has anyone besides me seen these? Are those crickets I hear?
I've come to realize that if I were an alcoholic, I'd be drinking vodka out of the bottle while listening to Steve Perry's "Foolish Heart" every night.
I got a new conditioner, and I'm in love with the smell. So I've been sniffing my hair all day.
No vodka was consumed during writing this post although it may seem like it.
I've been watching lots of indie movies lately. I ♥ indie movies. And stand-up comedy. And psychological thrillers. And slasher flicks. This weekend I watched "Sunshine Cleaning" and "Cry of the Owl." Has anyone besides me seen these? Are those crickets I hear?
I've come to realize that if I were an alcoholic, I'd be drinking vodka out of the bottle while listening to Steve Perry's "Foolish Heart" every night.
I got a new conditioner, and I'm in love with the smell. So I've been sniffing my hair all day.
No vodka was consumed during writing this post although it may seem like it.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Twelvth Batch of Dewey Entries
Einstein, logical thinking, minerals, science vs. religion, conversations with Carl Sagan, an overview of Japanese literature (translated from Japanese). Me is getting edjamacated, or something like it.
Making My Way Through Dewey
001.94 O'Neill, Terry. Mysterious Monsters: Fact or Fiction.
011.73 Pearl, Nancy. Book Lust.
020 Johnston, Marilyn. This Book Is Overdue.
031.02 Frauenfelder, Mark. The World's Worst.
04_
051 Fraterrigo, Elizabeth. Playboy and the Making of the Good Life in Modern America.
06_
070.92 Andrews, Helena. Bitch is the New Black.
081 Rakoff, David. Don't Get Too Comfortable.
09_
10_
11_
121.63 Berger, Peter and Anton Zijderveld. In Praise of Doubt.
133 Horn, Stacy. Unbelievable.
14_
153.83 Welch, Suzy. 10-10-10.
158.2 Hotchkiss, Sandy. Why Is It Always About You?
158.2 Hotchkiss, Sandy. Why Is It Always About You?
160 Vos Savant, Marilyn. The Power of Logical Thinking.
177.7 Stone, Deborah. The Samaritan's Dilemma.
18_
19_
200 Ward, Keith. Is Religion Dangerous?
215 Ecklund, Elaine Howard. Science vs. Religion.
22_
23_
248.845 Neumann, Connie. Parenting in the Home Stretch.
255.1 Okholm, Dennis. Monk Habits for Everyday People.
261.850973 Zacharias, Karen Spears. Will Jesus Buy Me a Double-Wide?
277.3083 Meyers, Robin. Why the Christian Right Is Wrong.
289.3082 Solomon, Dorothy Allred. The Sisterhood.
299.94 Russo, Steve. What's the Deal with Wicca?
302.34082 Paul, Marla. The Friendship Crisis.
305.4092 Merrill, Wendy. Falling into Manholes.
305.4092 Merrill, Wendy. Falling into Manholes.
310 Statistical Abstract of the United States: 2009.
327.73009 Dobbs, Lou. Exporting America.
332.02401 Epperson, Sharon. The Big Payoff.
343.730523 Lange, James. Retire Secure.
352.480973 Rivlin, Alice and Isabel Sawhill. Restoring Fiscal Sanity.
362.196852 Schaefer, Jenni. Goodbye Ed, Hello Me.
378.19822 Peril, Lynn. College Girls.
381.120973 Mitchell, Stacy. Big Box Swindle.
392.6 Shapiro, Bill. Other People's Love Letters.
400 Bickerton, Derek. Language and Human Behavior.
417.2 Battistella, Edwin. Bad Language.
428.13 Jackson, R. W. You Say Tomato.
43_
44_
45_
46_
478.2421 Goldman, Norma W. English Grammar for Students of Latin.
48_
495.686421 Murray, Giles. Breaking into Japanese Literature.
500 Goodstein, David. On Fact and Fraud.
51_
520.92 Head, Tom. Conversations with Carl Sagan.
530.11 Schwartz, Joseph and Michael McGuinness. Einstein for Beginners.
549 Kerr Casper, Julie. Minerals: Gifts from the Earth.
551.63 Smith, Mike. Warnings.
56_
57_
58_
59_
608 Cooper, Christopher. Patently Absurd.
612 McCardle, William D, Frank I. Katch, Victor L. Katch. Essentials of Exercise Physiology.
621.38456 Baig, Edward C. iPhone for Dummies.
636.7527 Koontz, Dean. A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog.
641.58 Hall, Dawn. Busy People's Slow Cooker Cookbook.
658.812 Price, Bill and David Jaffe. The Best Service Is No Service.
663.61 Gleick, Peter H. Bottled & Sold: The Story Behind Our Obsession with Bottled Water.
67_
68_
695 Ortho's All About Roofing and Siding Basics.
701.18 Barbe-Gall, Francoise. How To Talk to Children About Art.
712.60973 Great Gardens.
728 Koones, Sheri. Modular Mansions.
739.27075 Schiffer. Popular Jewelry of the 60s, 70s and 80s.
745.5 MacKay, Kate and Di Jennings. Alchemy Arts.
750.11 Richardson, Joy. Looking at Pictures.
76_
771.33 Revell, Jeff. Nikon D5000: From Snapshots to Great Shots.
782.421649 McQuillar, Tayannah Lee. When Rap Music Had a Conscience.
794.000 Orbanes, Philip E. Monopoly: The World's Most Famous Game.
808.02 O'Conner, Patricia. Words Fail Me.
817.000 Scottoline, Lisa. Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog.
828.92 Browning, Guy. Never Hit a Jellyfish with a Spade.
83_
84_
85_
86_
87_
88_
89_
902 Hendriksson, Anders. Non Campus Mentis.
910.4 Leffel, Tim. Make Your Travel Dollars Worth a Fortune.
929.2097472 Welch Kids. The Kids Are All Right.
937 Nardo, Don. Life of a Roman Slave.
940.21 Netzley, Patricia D. Life During the Renaissance.
956.7044 Life. Last Letters Home.
966.9 Heinrichs, Ann. Nigeria: Enchantment of the World.
973.92 Strauss, William and Elaina Newport. Sixteen Scandals.
979.777 Historical Society of Federal Way. Images of America: Federal Way.
979.777 Historical Society of Federal Way. Images of America: Federal Way.
985 Takacs, Stefanie. The Inca.
993 Masson, Jeffrey Moussaieff. Slipping into Paradise: Why I Live in New Zealand.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Chubbo the Flannel Musical
I was out with my mom and Julia recently. Julia was resisting her stroller, and my mom picked her up to carry her. My mom said to her, "You're getting to be such a chubbo!"
Chubbo is a trigger word for me. That's a word that only my mother says (please tell me it's not in your vernacular), and before now I've only heard her apply it to me. She called me chubbo since I was 13 years old. Before I explore my chubbo-ness at 13 years old, I must say that Julia is not a chubbo. She's in the 5th percentile for weight, which means that of the girls her exact age, 95% of them weigh more than her. If she doesn't have a shirt on, she looks like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin. You can count the poor girl's ribs. I've had to use a binder clip to hold up her pants in a pinch (go multi-use office supplies!). I was at Target yesterday, and I was scoring $2 adjustable waist jeans. I met another mother who has a 35 pound son that is a year younger than Julia. Julia weighs 24 pounds, for the record. I don't know much, but what I do know is that my daughter is not overweight.
Of course I didn't correct my mother because I choose to not confront most people and instead healthily or unhealthily keep my rage inside and/or blog about it.
When my mother said the trigger word, I instantly felt 13 years old and as shameful as I did back then when she called me that trigger word.
For the most part, I don't try to be an oversensitive person. I try to be rational. I don't always achieve it, but I do try. However, I do seek out the approval of the people I love. If my husband called me fat or stupid, I'd be crushed. Same for if my good friends said it. And same for my mom. Yep, she's called me fat ("chubbo") and stupid many, many times in my life. The stupid thing I never fell for. It helped that every teacher I ever had (except for Mr. Wood in 9th grade PE) said I was smart. Deep down, I know I'm smart enough to get by. So I never really internalized my mother's judgment of me as "stupid." It also turned out that she called me stupid when I didn't do what she wanted. If I did what she wanted, I was smart. She may or may not resemble George Bush in that way. If you think and act the way she wants you to, you're "good." If you digress from what she wants, you're bad or "stupid."
The fat thing was always what I was more insecure about. Society says you have to be thin. I actually was thin until 8th grade. Then I gained 30 pounds in 6 months. It was an insane amount of weight gain in a short amount of time. It was all chest, boobs & hips. But those numbers don't lie. I literally gained 30 pounds in less than a school year. Flat chest to DD in a few months. And of course my mother noticed, and she labeled me a chubbo. I quickly labeled myself a chubbo too. Did anyone else? No. No one has ever called me fat/chubby except my mother and myself. I merely think other people are too polite to say something like that to your face.
My salvation became flannel. It was the early 1990s. I lived in Seattle, the grunge mecca of the early 1990s. Seattle loved flannel.
If you'll notice, grunge and hip hop shared one big feature. FLANNEL. The only real distinction was that grunge's pants weren't as baggy as hip hop's. So what did I do? I wore flannel shirts and wore jeans that were slightly baggier than grunge's and less baggy than hip hop's. I rode the flannel fence between genres so as not to be seen as a traitor by fellow Seattle-ites. I accumulated a hideously large flannel collection. At the height, I had 42 flannel shirts. There was an ecru/blue/brown flannel shirt, not to be confused with the ecru/blue/gray combination.
You could say I was just riding the style wave at the time. I really wasn't. I was just lucky that the fad at the time was so darn good at hiding body parts. And I embraced it. Extra large men's flannel shirts combined with baggy jeans...I hid my chubbo body for a good 4 years under huge clothes. I was actually good at hiding my body. I was so good at it that other girls would look at me pitifully and say it had to suck to be completely flat-chested, which of course I wasn't, but I disguised it very well.
Despite wearing the teenage equivalent of a nun's habit, I did have boyfriends and guy friends. They never said much about my fashion choices, except that if I did choose to wear a skirt (let's say for a school dance or my job), they would say I looked nice. But never anything more than that. Just "nice."
What eventually got me out of my flannel rut was a college ex-boyfriend. He may or may not have been an ass, but he wasn't all bad -- he got me out of my flannel rut. He too was really into flannel and baggy jeans. So it's not like he objected to the style. He objected to the amount of baggy clothing I wore. He said I had a great body and needed to show it off more. Of course I responded that I'm fat. He insisted that I wasn't fat, and he said I should actually put on weight. That would inevitably start an argument; however, his stance wouldn't waver. And slowly with his encouragement I started ditching the flannel. It's not like I went wild and crazy and started wearing tight dresses. I just merely started substituting loose t-shirts instead of long-sleeved flannel shirts and slowly worked my way to a more normal-looking wardrobe. I can proudly say that I no longer own any flannel anymore.
Nowadays flannel is back "in." Unlike the early 1990s, baggy flannel isn't in. It's all about tight flannel and skinny jeans.
I'm so, so glad I grew up in the baggy flannel/baggy jeans era. It gave me an awesome disguise for many years that also disguised my self-esteem and body image issues.
I must work on ensuring that my mother and I do not give Julia any of these issues. That means I need to start heading off the Chubbo remarks from my mother pronto. Can I just say how I hate confrontation?
Chubbo is a trigger word for me. That's a word that only my mother says (please tell me it's not in your vernacular), and before now I've only heard her apply it to me. She called me chubbo since I was 13 years old. Before I explore my chubbo-ness at 13 years old, I must say that Julia is not a chubbo. She's in the 5th percentile for weight, which means that of the girls her exact age, 95% of them weigh more than her. If she doesn't have a shirt on, she looks like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin. You can count the poor girl's ribs. I've had to use a binder clip to hold up her pants in a pinch (go multi-use office supplies!). I was at Target yesterday, and I was scoring $2 adjustable waist jeans. I met another mother who has a 35 pound son that is a year younger than Julia. Julia weighs 24 pounds, for the record. I don't know much, but what I do know is that my daughter is not overweight.
Of course I didn't correct my mother because I choose to not confront most people and instead healthily or unhealthily keep my rage inside and/or blog about it.
When my mother said the trigger word, I instantly felt 13 years old and as shameful as I did back then when she called me that trigger word.
For the most part, I don't try to be an oversensitive person. I try to be rational. I don't always achieve it, but I do try. However, I do seek out the approval of the people I love. If my husband called me fat or stupid, I'd be crushed. Same for if my good friends said it. And same for my mom. Yep, she's called me fat ("chubbo") and stupid many, many times in my life. The stupid thing I never fell for. It helped that every teacher I ever had (except for Mr. Wood in 9th grade PE) said I was smart. Deep down, I know I'm smart enough to get by. So I never really internalized my mother's judgment of me as "stupid." It also turned out that she called me stupid when I didn't do what she wanted. If I did what she wanted, I was smart. She may or may not resemble George Bush in that way. If you think and act the way she wants you to, you're "good." If you digress from what she wants, you're bad or "stupid."
The fat thing was always what I was more insecure about. Society says you have to be thin. I actually was thin until 8th grade. Then I gained 30 pounds in 6 months. It was an insane amount of weight gain in a short amount of time. It was all chest, boobs & hips. But those numbers don't lie. I literally gained 30 pounds in less than a school year. Flat chest to DD in a few months. And of course my mother noticed, and she labeled me a chubbo. I quickly labeled myself a chubbo too. Did anyone else? No. No one has ever called me fat/chubby except my mother and myself. I merely think other people are too polite to say something like that to your face.
My salvation became flannel. It was the early 1990s. I lived in Seattle, the grunge mecca of the early 1990s. Seattle loved flannel.
Personally I'm not a huge grunge fan. There's a few songs I like, but they are relatively few and far between. What I did and still like? That would be rap and hip hop.
You could say I was just riding the style wave at the time. I really wasn't. I was just lucky that the fad at the time was so darn good at hiding body parts. And I embraced it. Extra large men's flannel shirts combined with baggy jeans...I hid my chubbo body for a good 4 years under huge clothes. I was actually good at hiding my body. I was so good at it that other girls would look at me pitifully and say it had to suck to be completely flat-chested, which of course I wasn't, but I disguised it very well.
Despite wearing the teenage equivalent of a nun's habit, I did have boyfriends and guy friends. They never said much about my fashion choices, except that if I did choose to wear a skirt (let's say for a school dance or my job), they would say I looked nice. But never anything more than that. Just "nice."
What eventually got me out of my flannel rut was a college ex-boyfriend. He may or may not have been an ass, but he wasn't all bad -- he got me out of my flannel rut. He too was really into flannel and baggy jeans. So it's not like he objected to the style. He objected to the amount of baggy clothing I wore. He said I had a great body and needed to show it off more. Of course I responded that I'm fat. He insisted that I wasn't fat, and he said I should actually put on weight. That would inevitably start an argument; however, his stance wouldn't waver. And slowly with his encouragement I started ditching the flannel. It's not like I went wild and crazy and started wearing tight dresses. I just merely started substituting loose t-shirts instead of long-sleeved flannel shirts and slowly worked my way to a more normal-looking wardrobe. I can proudly say that I no longer own any flannel anymore.
Nowadays flannel is back "in." Unlike the early 1990s, baggy flannel isn't in. It's all about tight flannel and skinny jeans.
I'm so, so glad I grew up in the baggy flannel/baggy jeans era. It gave me an awesome disguise for many years that also disguised my self-esteem and body image issues.
I must work on ensuring that my mother and I do not give Julia any of these issues. That means I need to start heading off the Chubbo remarks from my mother pronto. Can I just say how I hate confrontation?
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Getting into the Mental Groove
Even though I can't proclaim that I've lost any weight in the last, ummm, 2 YEARS, I do feel like I've attained a certain milestone. I feel like I'm getting into that weight loss groove mentally. For me, that's when things click. It's the realization that I can't eat every dang thing I want, I've got to portion, I've got to surmount those mental demons I have if I ever want to get anywhere.
It also helped that I went clothes shopping in the past day. There are some awesome clearance deals going on. I got 16 pieces of clothes at a few stores for a total of $55. AND...the vast majority were work clothes. I think all but 3 pieces are work appropriate. Seriously, 13 pieces of work clothes for less than $50 is a killer deal. I didn't try anything on, so I just picked what I thought would fit by holding it up to me. But still, new clothes help the whole outlook.
My exercise groove is continuing as well. I have a lot of exercise equipment/DVDs, and I'm deciding to mix things up with various types of exercise and simply do what I want. So some days are pilates, some tae bo, some are the kettlebell, some elliptical, some rowing. I truly am enjoying that freedom and flexibility.
I went out tonight with the girls to a bar. I wore something I haven't had the confidence to wear in a while, and I did feel better/more confident. I ate decently about an hour or two before, so I knew I wouldn't be that hungry. I ordered a side dish (garlic toast), I was having a carb craving. It was a small portion - even better.
People watching in a bar is truly interesting. The male/female interactions are fascinating to see - you know, the group of girls talking about the guy who is nonchalantly drinking at the bar. He's trying to appear cool, but he's checking out various girls surreptitiously. One of the girls from the group approaches the bartender by going next to the guy she's interested in. She kinda bumps the guy, he starts talking to her.... I could have just observed the beginning of a fairytale, a one night stand, or just a 5 minute chat. Who really knows.
People really are fascinating.
It also helped that I went clothes shopping in the past day. There are some awesome clearance deals going on. I got 16 pieces of clothes at a few stores for a total of $55. AND...the vast majority were work clothes. I think all but 3 pieces are work appropriate. Seriously, 13 pieces of work clothes for less than $50 is a killer deal. I didn't try anything on, so I just picked what I thought would fit by holding it up to me. But still, new clothes help the whole outlook.
My exercise groove is continuing as well. I have a lot of exercise equipment/DVDs, and I'm deciding to mix things up with various types of exercise and simply do what I want. So some days are pilates, some tae bo, some are the kettlebell, some elliptical, some rowing. I truly am enjoying that freedom and flexibility.
I went out tonight with the girls to a bar. I wore something I haven't had the confidence to wear in a while, and I did feel better/more confident. I ate decently about an hour or two before, so I knew I wouldn't be that hungry. I ordered a side dish (garlic toast), I was having a carb craving. It was a small portion - even better.
People watching in a bar is truly interesting. The male/female interactions are fascinating to see - you know, the group of girls talking about the guy who is nonchalantly drinking at the bar. He's trying to appear cool, but he's checking out various girls surreptitiously. One of the girls from the group approaches the bartender by going next to the guy she's interested in. She kinda bumps the guy, he starts talking to her.... I could have just observed the beginning of a fairytale, a one night stand, or just a 5 minute chat. Who really knows.
People really are fascinating.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Late night thoughts
I've been wanting to do a long post for a while. I just haven't had it in me. This will be short, and hopefully I will be more motivated for a longer post sometime this weekend.
Exercise: Going well. I've worked out 15x thus far this month. Kettlebells kick your booty - well, really your arms. They kick your arms. Doesn't have much of a ring to it, but it is indeed the truth. Maybe I should have gotten a smaller kettlebell to start out with.
Eating: Except for a few days around my birthday, I've been fairly good. As in, I just eat my dinner, no snacks or desserts once I get home (unless you count blueberries). I've majorly upped my fruits and veggies, which were already high to begin with. Work dessert treats still abound though, but I am trying to limit them.
Weight: Still stagnant. Still 4 or so pounds away from changing my FB profile pic. What - it's only been 4 or so months, you expect me to actually lose a pound or two???? HA (evidently)!!!
Body fat: In "fitness" range, which I must remind the world is BELOW average. BMI, on the other hand, is technically "overweight" by a hair or two. I struggle with this inconsistency. I'm blaming it on my big boobs and big bones. Just let me live in my fantasy world. At least I don't call myself a vegan.
Dewey Project: I keep picking away at the books. I must remind myself that I only started it in September, and I've read 50 non-fiction books since then. Pretty darn awesome considering what else is on my plate.
Minor Annoyance: Julia fell onto my glasses, which I usually only wear at home. My dear husband tried to bend them back, but in the process he broke them. I'm one week into the 2-3 week wait for new glasses. I'm using an oooold pair now (as in last millennium old), which pinch me behind the ear and they are bent too, which means they sit wrong....long story short, I'm going to go crazy by the time the new ones get here. Hurry up, glasses!
Delusional Vegan ate meat lasagna (meat AND cheese). I had to really, really hold my tongue on that one.
First waxing experience: Remember I have had abdominal surgery, sinus surgery and wisdom tooth surgery with no pain meds afterward. But for some reason, I think I will need Percocet if I ever get anything waxed again. Dang that hurts!
Existential crises: Still processing.
Exercise: Going well. I've worked out 15x thus far this month. Kettlebells kick your booty - well, really your arms. They kick your arms. Doesn't have much of a ring to it, but it is indeed the truth. Maybe I should have gotten a smaller kettlebell to start out with.
Eating: Except for a few days around my birthday, I've been fairly good. As in, I just eat my dinner, no snacks or desserts once I get home (unless you count blueberries). I've majorly upped my fruits and veggies, which were already high to begin with. Work dessert treats still abound though, but I am trying to limit them.
Weight: Still stagnant. Still 4 or so pounds away from changing my FB profile pic. What - it's only been 4 or so months, you expect me to actually lose a pound or two???? HA (evidently)!!!
Body fat: In "fitness" range, which I must remind the world is BELOW average. BMI, on the other hand, is technically "overweight" by a hair or two. I struggle with this inconsistency. I'm blaming it on my big boobs and big bones. Just let me live in my fantasy world. At least I don't call myself a vegan.
Dewey Project: I keep picking away at the books. I must remind myself that I only started it in September, and I've read 50 non-fiction books since then. Pretty darn awesome considering what else is on my plate.
Minor Annoyance: Julia fell onto my glasses, which I usually only wear at home. My dear husband tried to bend them back, but in the process he broke them. I'm one week into the 2-3 week wait for new glasses. I'm using an oooold pair now (as in last millennium old), which pinch me behind the ear and they are bent too, which means they sit wrong....long story short, I'm going to go crazy by the time the new ones get here. Hurry up, glasses!
Delusional Vegan ate meat lasagna (meat AND cheese). I had to really, really hold my tongue on that one.
First waxing experience: Remember I have had abdominal surgery, sinus surgery and wisdom tooth surgery with no pain meds afterward. But for some reason, I think I will need Percocet if I ever get anything waxed again. Dang that hurts!
Existential crises: Still processing.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Things that annoy me today
I don't like getting gas for the car. It's a stupid endeavor, makes your hands smell, is just plain dirty, and I don't like it. However, it's necessary. And I'm not one of those women who won't pump her own gas. That diva attitude even annoys me more than pumping gas. Alas, I have to do it but don't like it. I wish I could get gas once a year and just carry a sidecar full of surplus gas. Maybe it would be a fire hazard, but it sure would be easier than stopping for gas 2x a month.
So my philosophy on getting gas is to minimize the amount of times I have to obtain gas. This means getting gas when the light comes on and filling the tank completely. And try not to drive so much, but not much can be done about that because I have a pretty small commute as commutes go around here (8 miles).
Today I had to get gas. Of course, it ticks me off because a Subaru cut me off as I was approaching the gas station. Yes, one of those lovely people. She and I pull in at the same time. We pay at the same time. She pumps maybe 3-4 gallons of gas, and that's it. Since we started pumping gas at the same time, mine was right about at the 3-4 gallon mark when she stopped. Then she takes off.
It doesn't even affect me, but it still annoys me. Why only get 3-4 gallons of gas at one time? My dad had that same philosophy. He would only put $5 in the gas tank each time. This was when gas was less than $1/gallon, but still....he drove a big ass van that got maybe 10 miles/gallon. He ended up getting gas almost every day. He had wads of cash in his pocket, but he would never put more than $5 at a time into his gas tank. I suppose it's just a complete philosophical difference. His goal (and perhaps the Subaru owner's goal) was to only be invested minimally in surplus gas for the car. My goal is to minimize trips to the gas station.
The other thing that really annoyed me today was when I was at the stupid bank trying to make a dang deposit. I stood in line for 15 minutes (obscenely long just to make a deposit!) and saw quite an eclectic group of people. I was right next to one of those personal banker people and could hear her conversation with a customer. The customer was overdrawn and wanted to get more money out. The banker was saying you don't have any money to take out, and the customer was increasingly getting more irritated. I actually identified with the banker who is trying to nicely say that you can't make a withdrawal when your account is overdrawn. I mean, it's only common sense, right?
So my philosophy on getting gas is to minimize the amount of times I have to obtain gas. This means getting gas when the light comes on and filling the tank completely. And try not to drive so much, but not much can be done about that because I have a pretty small commute as commutes go around here (8 miles).
Today I had to get gas. Of course, it ticks me off because a Subaru cut me off as I was approaching the gas station. Yes, one of those lovely people. She and I pull in at the same time. We pay at the same time. She pumps maybe 3-4 gallons of gas, and that's it. Since we started pumping gas at the same time, mine was right about at the 3-4 gallon mark when she stopped. Then she takes off.
It doesn't even affect me, but it still annoys me. Why only get 3-4 gallons of gas at one time? My dad had that same philosophy. He would only put $5 in the gas tank each time. This was when gas was less than $1/gallon, but still....he drove a big ass van that got maybe 10 miles/gallon. He ended up getting gas almost every day. He had wads of cash in his pocket, but he would never put more than $5 at a time into his gas tank. I suppose it's just a complete philosophical difference. His goal (and perhaps the Subaru owner's goal) was to only be invested minimally in surplus gas for the car. My goal is to minimize trips to the gas station.
The other thing that really annoyed me today was when I was at the stupid bank trying to make a dang deposit. I stood in line for 15 minutes (obscenely long just to make a deposit!) and saw quite an eclectic group of people. I was right next to one of those personal banker people and could hear her conversation with a customer. The customer was overdrawn and wanted to get more money out. The banker was saying you don't have any money to take out, and the customer was increasingly getting more irritated. I actually identified with the banker who is trying to nicely say that you can't make a withdrawal when your account is overdrawn. I mean, it's only common sense, right?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Sense of Foreboding
Does anyone else routinely wear jeans to bed? At least twice a week I fall asleep wearing jeans. I'm not sure whether it's due to laziness or not caring. There is a difference between laziness and not caring, right? I like to think I'm just one of those who doesn't care about what I'm wearing while I sleep as long as nothing is pinching me. But maybe I'm just lazy. The habit started in college when I had the weird roommate who gave me a curfew, so I chose to sleep anywhere but my room. Almost every night I slept in my jeans back then.
I must say it's easier to sleep in jeans than my new footies. See, darling M got me cupcake footies for Christmas. They are as charming as they sound. The thing is that they have this velcro flap in the back. I'm not sure if the flap is supposed to be cute, or functional, or just plain fun for a sodomist. Since I can't see it, the flap isn't very cute. I've been wearing footies all my life, so by now the routine of pulling down the zipper to pee is well established. So it's not very functional for me either. I do move quite a bit when I sleep, I'm quite a contortionist. Well, sometime around 2:43am (this may or may not be a true story), I hear a rrrrrrrrrrip and feel an ample breeze on my buttocks. I wake up with a jerk because I think I just broke my pants or perhaps there's a serial sodomist in bed with me...you see, my mind can be a bit overactive. Then I realize that I contorted the wrong way and the velcro let go. I've got to sew that flap shut. Seriously. So you see why I don't mind, or maybe even prefer, to wear jeans to sleep. It makes the serial sodomist's job a bit more difficult. You can also probably infer that I rarely sleep naked.
I watched both versions of The Last House on the Left. The original 1972 and the 2009 version. That may have made me a bit more paranoid than usual. I'm actually not all that paranoid, except when I sleep. If I could, I'd sleep with The Club on me. You know, that red piece of metal that you find on the steering wheels of 1982 Buicks in the library parking lot.
Being that I'm slightly more paranoid than usual, I have to say that I have a feeling that this is going to be a sucky year. Someone's going to die or get sick or endure some other awful calamity. I don't get these feelings of foreboding often, so when I do get them, I know they are indicative of something that will happen. When I get these feelings, I just want to stay cloistered in the house to help prevent whatever calamity from happening. However, it's not that simple given that I, you know, work and have to leave the house from time to time.
Here's to hoping that I'm wrong!
I must say it's easier to sleep in jeans than my new footies. See, darling M got me cupcake footies for Christmas. They are as charming as they sound. The thing is that they have this velcro flap in the back. I'm not sure if the flap is supposed to be cute, or functional, or just plain fun for a sodomist. Since I can't see it, the flap isn't very cute. I've been wearing footies all my life, so by now the routine of pulling down the zipper to pee is well established. So it's not very functional for me either. I do move quite a bit when I sleep, I'm quite a contortionist. Well, sometime around 2:43am (this may or may not be a true story), I hear a rrrrrrrrrrip and feel an ample breeze on my buttocks. I wake up with a jerk because I think I just broke my pants or perhaps there's a serial sodomist in bed with me...you see, my mind can be a bit overactive. Then I realize that I contorted the wrong way and the velcro let go. I've got to sew that flap shut. Seriously. So you see why I don't mind, or maybe even prefer, to wear jeans to sleep. It makes the serial sodomist's job a bit more difficult. You can also probably infer that I rarely sleep naked.
I watched both versions of The Last House on the Left. The original 1972 and the 2009 version. That may have made me a bit more paranoid than usual. I'm actually not all that paranoid, except when I sleep. If I could, I'd sleep with The Club on me. You know, that red piece of metal that you find on the steering wheels of 1982 Buicks in the library parking lot.
Being that I'm slightly more paranoid than usual, I have to say that I have a feeling that this is going to be a sucky year. Someone's going to die or get sick or endure some other awful calamity. I don't get these feelings of foreboding often, so when I do get them, I know they are indicative of something that will happen. When I get these feelings, I just want to stay cloistered in the house to help prevent whatever calamity from happening. However, it's not that simple given that I, you know, work and have to leave the house from time to time.
Here's to hoping that I'm wrong!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Eleventh Batch of Dewey Entries
Warnings was a book on metereology. Basically how metereology and warning systems have been saving lives. It was better than I expected although the author has a big ego. There were a few too many paragraphs about how he is the most awesome predictor ever. A few eyerolls while reading, but it actually was interesting.
Words Fail Me was a quick read about writing. Nothing earth shattering, but a pleasant read.
Alchemy Arts was a girly book about sewing fashion. Ugh yeah, I learned that I don't ever want to learn how to sew.
Bitch is the New Black was a memoir. Okay, but kind of disjointed. Fairly engaging.
Mysterious Monsters: Fact or Fiction was okay. Do chupacabras really exist? Who the eff really knows is my take on the issue.
Words Fail Me was a quick read about writing. Nothing earth shattering, but a pleasant read.
Alchemy Arts was a girly book about sewing fashion. Ugh yeah, I learned that I don't ever want to learn how to sew.
Bitch is the New Black was a memoir. Okay, but kind of disjointed. Fairly engaging.
Mysterious Monsters: Fact or Fiction was okay. Do chupacabras really exist? Who the eff really knows is my take on the issue.
Making My Way Through Dewey
001.94 O'Neill, Terry. Mysterious Monsters: Fact or Fiction.
011.73 Pearl, Nancy. Book Lust.
020 Johnston, Marilyn. This Book Is Overdue.
031.02 Frauenfelder, Mark. The World's Worst.
04_
051 Fraterrigo, Elizabeth. Playboy and the Making of the Good Life in Modern America.
06_
070.92 Andrews, Helena. Bitch is the New Black.
081 Rakoff, David. Don't Get Too Comfortable.
09_
10_
11_
121.63 Berger, Peter and Anton Zijderveld. In Praise of Doubt.
133 Horn, Stacy. Unbelievable.
14_
153.83 Welch, Suzy. 10-10-10.
158.2 Hotchkiss, Sandy. Why Is It Always About You?
158.2 Hotchkiss, Sandy. Why Is It Always About You?
16_
177.7 Stone, Deborah. The Samaritan's Dilemma.
18_
19_
200 Ward, Keith. Is Religion Dangerous?
21_
22_
23_
248.845 Neumann, Connie. Parenting in the Home Stretch.
255.1 Okholm, Dennis. Monk Habits for Everyday People.
261.850973 Zacharias, Karen Spears. Will Jesus Buy Me a Double-Wide?
277.3083 Meyers, Robin. Why the Christian Right Is Wrong.
289.3082 Solomon, Dorothy Allred. The Sisterhood.
299.94 Russo, Steve. What's the Deal with Wicca?
302.34082 Paul, Marla. The Friendship Crisis.
305.4092 Merrill, Wendy. Falling into Manholes.
305.4092 Merrill, Wendy. Falling into Manholes.
310 Statistical Abstract of the United States: 2009.
327.73009 Dobbs, Lou. Exporting America.
332.02401 Epperson, Sharon. The Big Payoff.
343.730523 Lange, James. Retire Secure.
352.480973 Rivlin, Alice and Isabel Sawhill. Restoring Fiscal Sanity.
362.196852 Schaefer, Jenni. Goodbye Ed, Hello Me.
378.19822 Peril, Lynn. College Girls.
381.120973 Mitchell, Stacy. Big Box Swindle.
392.6 Shapiro, Bill. Other People's Love Letters.
400 Bickerton, Derek. Language and Human Behavior.
417.2 Battistella, Edwin. Bad Language.
428.13 Jackson, R. W. You Say Tomato.
43_
44_
45_
46_
478.2421 Goldman, Norma W. English Grammar for Students of Latin.
48_
49_
500 Goodstein, David. On Fact and Fraud.
51_
52_
53_
54_
551.63 Smith, Mike. Warnings.
56_
57_
58_
59_
608 Cooper, Christopher. Patently Absurd.
612 McCardle, William D, Frank I. Katch, Victor L. Katch. Essentials of Exercise Physiology.
621.38456 Baig, Edward C. iPhone for Dummies.
636.7527 Koontz, Dean. A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog.
641.58 Hall, Dawn. Busy People's Slow Cooker Cookbook.
658.812 Price, Bill and David Jaffe. The Best Service Is No Service.
663.61 Gleick, Peter H. Bottled & Sold: The Story Behind Our Obsession with Bottled Water.
67_
68_
695 Ortho's All About Roofing and Siding Basics.
701.18 Barbe-Gall, Francoise. How To Talk to Children About Art.
712.60973 Great Gardens.
728 Koones, Sheri. Modular Mansions.
739.27075 Schiffer. Popular Jewelry of the 60s, 70s and 80s.
745.5 MacKay, Kate and Di Jennings. Alchemy Arts.
750.11 Richardson, Joy. Looking at Pictures.
76_
771.33 Revell, Jeff. Nikon D5000: From Snapshots to Great Shots.
782.421649 McQuillar, Tayannah Lee. When Rap Music Had a Conscience.
794.000 Orbanes, Philip E. Monopoly: The World's Most Famous Game.
808.02 O'Conner, Patricia. Words Fail Me.
817.000 Scottoline, Lisa. Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog.
828.92 Browning, Guy. Never Hit a Jellyfish with a Spade.
83_
84_
85_
86_
87_
88_
89_
902 Hendriksson, Anders. Non Campus Mentis.
910.4 Leffel, Tim. Make Your Travel Dollars Worth a Fortune.
929.2097472 Welch Kids. The Kids Are All Right.
937 Nardo, Don. Life of a Roman Slave.
940.21 Netzley, Patricia D. Life During the Renaissance.
956.7044 Life. Last Letters Home.
966.9 Heinrichs, Ann. Nigeria: Enchantment of the World.
973.92 Strauss, William and Elaina Newport. Sixteen Scandals.
979.777 Historical Society of Federal Way. Images of America: Federal Way.
979.777 Historical Society of Federal Way. Images of America: Federal Way.
985 Takacs, Stefanie. The Inca.
993 Masson, Jeffrey Moussaieff. Slipping into Paradise: Why I Live in New Zealand.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Work Holiday Party
Just got back from hubby's work holiday party. Remember how much I whined and complained about how hubby's company is, ummm, industrial? The people are kind of eh, there's always some gambling theme, and it always seems to emanate the classiness of a monster truck rally?
Well, I was proven wrong tonight. Having low expectations can sometimes indeed be a good thing. When you are proven wrong, you can appreciate the pleasant experience even more. On the other hand, if things don't pan out, you can say, "I told ya so." Either way, it's kind of a good thing. But if you have high expectations and it turns out crappy, you just end up with disappointment. Moral of the story: have low expectations.
The dinner cruise was awesome. It was all indoors, and the boat was huge. There was an outside deck, but it was freezing outside, so I only lasted about 3 minutes. What I absolutely loved was that there was plenty of space. There were two large floors to the boat. Half of us were on one floor, half on the other. Food was on both floors. We chose the floor with the smaller dance floor (i.e., the non-party floor).
We sat with S's department. Accounting and finance. Aaaaaah, give me 50 year old menopausal women any day over 30 year old toothless men who live on McDonald's and play Xbox when they aren't working. Yes, I know it seems to contradict my typical mantra that men are better company than women. But these men are in their own extra special category: ignorance with some apathy and add in poor personal hygiene. Yep yep yep, I'll take the 50 year old woman.
The tables were set up that they were tables of 2 or 4. There was SPACE to move around, it wasn't those horrible circle tables set up for 8-10. It was more intimate. We sat with S's boss and his wife, who are wonderful. Good conversation, we're all fairly educated, we have things in common, was great. The accounting ladies and their dates were at nearby tables. Again, they're all great.
Food: great! They had people bring around plates of appetizers. There was a dinner buffet with prime rib, chicken, salmon, tortellini, salad, fruit, rice. Probably what I didn't like the most was that they brought people around to offer tiny desserts. Teeny tiny desserts. You weren't sure if there was ever someone else coming up with a different tray, so you felt like you had to take one of the desserts. I generally prefer buffets. I like to know what all is out there and then making my choices. Oh, and if you took a teeny tiny dessert and really liked it, the person with that tray would never make another round. So you ended up with 5 little teeny tiny dessert samples. Seriously, people, put all of the desserts on a table, put out some plates, and let us take what we want, just like you did with the main courses.
What I loved the most was that there was very little "entertainment." We just talked and ate. I'm a simple girl, I'm fine with that. I don't need crazy stunts to amuse me. On the first floor, they did do some entertainment which us on the second floor could view via video if we wanted to. Like blowing cards across tables, putting cookies on your forehead and trying to move it to your mouth without touching it, you know...prefunk activities to the monster truck rally.
The scenery was great. We could see downtown Seattle from the water. Since the Seahawks won tonight, there was all sorts of festivities going on and city patriotic displays. The view was spectacular.
Adding to the positive karma of the day was that we didn't get trapped in any snow (which was predicted to happen tonight), we found a parking spot right next to the pier (we didn't have to trek through all of downtown on foot in the freezing cold), we only paid 75 cents for parking, we didn't have to wait an hour to get onto the boat like we thought we would have to, and we easily got out of downtown.
It was a classy party. Hooray for a nice night!
Well, I was proven wrong tonight. Having low expectations can sometimes indeed be a good thing. When you are proven wrong, you can appreciate the pleasant experience even more. On the other hand, if things don't pan out, you can say, "I told ya so." Either way, it's kind of a good thing. But if you have high expectations and it turns out crappy, you just end up with disappointment. Moral of the story: have low expectations.
The dinner cruise was awesome. It was all indoors, and the boat was huge. There was an outside deck, but it was freezing outside, so I only lasted about 3 minutes. What I absolutely loved was that there was plenty of space. There were two large floors to the boat. Half of us were on one floor, half on the other. Food was on both floors. We chose the floor with the smaller dance floor (i.e., the non-party floor).
We sat with S's department. Accounting and finance. Aaaaaah, give me 50 year old menopausal women any day over 30 year old toothless men who live on McDonald's and play Xbox when they aren't working. Yes, I know it seems to contradict my typical mantra that men are better company than women. But these men are in their own extra special category: ignorance with some apathy and add in poor personal hygiene. Yep yep yep, I'll take the 50 year old woman.
The tables were set up that they were tables of 2 or 4. There was SPACE to move around, it wasn't those horrible circle tables set up for 8-10. It was more intimate. We sat with S's boss and his wife, who are wonderful. Good conversation, we're all fairly educated, we have things in common, was great. The accounting ladies and their dates were at nearby tables. Again, they're all great.
Food: great! They had people bring around plates of appetizers. There was a dinner buffet with prime rib, chicken, salmon, tortellini, salad, fruit, rice. Probably what I didn't like the most was that they brought people around to offer tiny desserts. Teeny tiny desserts. You weren't sure if there was ever someone else coming up with a different tray, so you felt like you had to take one of the desserts. I generally prefer buffets. I like to know what all is out there and then making my choices. Oh, and if you took a teeny tiny dessert and really liked it, the person with that tray would never make another round. So you ended up with 5 little teeny tiny dessert samples. Seriously, people, put all of the desserts on a table, put out some plates, and let us take what we want, just like you did with the main courses.
What I loved the most was that there was very little "entertainment." We just talked and ate. I'm a simple girl, I'm fine with that. I don't need crazy stunts to amuse me. On the first floor, they did do some entertainment which us on the second floor could view via video if we wanted to. Like blowing cards across tables, putting cookies on your forehead and trying to move it to your mouth without touching it, you know...prefunk activities to the monster truck rally.
The scenery was great. We could see downtown Seattle from the water. Since the Seahawks won tonight, there was all sorts of festivities going on and city patriotic displays. The view was spectacular.
Adding to the positive karma of the day was that we didn't get trapped in any snow (which was predicted to happen tonight), we found a parking spot right next to the pier (we didn't have to trek through all of downtown on foot in the freezing cold), we only paid 75 cents for parking, we didn't have to wait an hour to get onto the boat like we thought we would have to, and we easily got out of downtown.
It was a classy party. Hooray for a nice night!
Friday, January 7, 2011
New Comfort Object
You know how I was saying that a 2.5 year old who rubs a pacifier is a little bit embarrassing? (At least she doesn't do it in public anymore.)
Julia gets to take a comfort object to school every day. This habit started when we stopped allowing her to take a pacifier for her naps. At first it was her stuffed rabbit. Then it became doggie. It's kind of been rotating between the two of those. If it's the stuffed rabbit, she usually also wants to bring rabbit's blanky. Makes sense, I guess. If she gets a blanky at naptime, her stuffed rabbit should too, right? It's only fair.
Last night and today's comfort object? A thermometer. With its cover. She lays there and rubs it. A freaking thermometer.
What makes it worse is that she doesn't pronounce it right - it's some sort of hybrid of 'thermometer' and 'temperature' with a 'ch' at the beginning. When she asks for her 'chermature,' my husband and I just look at each other like she's speaking Farsi.
She took her chermature to school today for nap, and she wanted it in her lunchbox (which she calls 'backpack'...thanks Dora the Explorer). I had to brief the daycare ladies on her comfort object, its mispronunciation, and its location because, well, I don't think anyone wants a nuclear meltdown when it's nap time and she's wailing about her chermature.
For the record, I think a chermature as a comfort object is more embarrassing than a pacifier. Go Julia for getting us back!
Julia gets to take a comfort object to school every day. This habit started when we stopped allowing her to take a pacifier for her naps. At first it was her stuffed rabbit. Then it became doggie. It's kind of been rotating between the two of those. If it's the stuffed rabbit, she usually also wants to bring rabbit's blanky. Makes sense, I guess. If she gets a blanky at naptime, her stuffed rabbit should too, right? It's only fair.
Last night and today's comfort object? A thermometer. With its cover. She lays there and rubs it. A freaking thermometer.
What makes it worse is that she doesn't pronounce it right - it's some sort of hybrid of 'thermometer' and 'temperature' with a 'ch' at the beginning. When she asks for her 'chermature,' my husband and I just look at each other like she's speaking Farsi.
She took her chermature to school today for nap, and she wanted it in her lunchbox (which she calls 'backpack'...thanks Dora the Explorer). I had to brief the daycare ladies on her comfort object, its mispronunciation, and its location because, well, I don't think anyone wants a nuclear meltdown when it's nap time and she's wailing about her chermature.
For the record, I think a chermature as a comfort object is more embarrassing than a pacifier. Go Julia for getting us back!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Work Parties
I find work holiday parties interesting. Mainly my husband's. As far as holiday parties go, my work holiday parties are tame. We typically go to a nice restaurant and have a white elephant exchange. It's perfect. I work for a non-profit and I'm really not into parties anyway, so it's cool. Feed me a meal, don't make me try too hard on the gift, and I'm happy.
My husband, on the other hand, always has "interesting" work holiday parties. Back in the day, the Roaring Late 90s and very early 2000s, he worked for a company that was bought out by Mother Merrill. ML was incidentally my first employer. If there's one thing that the brokerage firm ML was (pre-BOA takeover) it was classy. They oozed success and confidence. His work holiday parties were very ML. One holiday party was in the top floor of a Seattle skyscraper, beautiful decor, fed wonderful food and alcohol, awesome prizes (not that we ever win, but the potential to win a cruise or a getaway or a big ass TV was always luring). Another time it was at a design studio, and the same concept applied. You dress up, expect to be wined and dined, and it doesn't disappoint. After all, it's ML.
Then he started his new job in 2003. Granted, any work holiday party would feel like a letdown after ML. ML's culture was all about impressing. I see through that, it's not really my thing in day-to-day life. However, one night a year of being treated like a princess is kind of nice.
The culture at his current work is very, very different from ML. He's in finance at his current work, but the place is more industrial. A different sort of person works with machines at his current work instead of working with people's money and benefits like at ML. It's really a whole different ballgame entirely.
At the ML parties, the worst things you observed were drunk people acting like idiots. At his current work holiday parties, it's a whole different source of things that make you go hmmm. I am thankful he has a job, and it's great that they put on holiday parties that include spouses. I'm not trying to be ungrateful. It's just the ML to current job difference in parties is quite apparent.
- A few years ago the party was at a hotel, which was great. I saw my first pimp ever in real life at the party. Pink suit, pink hat, surrounded by many women. He had to be a pimp. You don't see dudes in pink suits walking around with a horde of women often, do you? My first ever pimp sighting was at his work holiday party. Awesome. They had a surprise casino theme that night, which was cool. You got fake money to play with and they had set up several different tables. The dinner was actually nice. They made us wait til the very end to give out prizes...errr...prize. There was one grand prize at the end of the night instead of prizes throughout. So I'm thinking to myself what could be the grand prize...a trip, a computer, a video game system, a TV??? Guess what it ended up being? A $25 gift card to Red Robin. Seriously? That's the ONLY prize of the night? Obviously there had to be some budget issues involving the party, but still...seriously lame, especially when you build it up all night talking about the "grand prize."
- His holiday parties are always in January. You know, a month after everyone else's holiday party. If they must be in January, can't you say it's a New Year party or something?
- The 2009 party was at a racetrack nearby. I'm not a gambler, and horseracing definitely isn't my thing. Oh well, it's a free meal. That one was weird because they had a huge amount of red and green desserts. Thanks for serving 2-3 week old leftovers. Really appreciate that.
- 2006 or 2007 or 2008 was a rodeo theme. We didn't go to that one. They advertised it as having a mechanical bull. Seriously? You know how I tease myself about my white trashiness, but that really was too much. I don't want to see my husband's co-workers ride a mechanical bull. I protested that the mechanical bull was too white trashy even for me.
- 2010 was at the casino. Yes, they love gambling themes at his work. And I am a complete casino snob. I lived in Vegas, baby. Vegas does casinos well. After you've spent oodles of time in the fanciest casinos in the world, the casino down the street that reeks of smoke and has really pathetic entertainment does nothing for me. I'm also an amusement park snob. So, yeah, I've lived here almost 20 years and still haven't stepped into our version of an amusement park or our version of a casino. Well, 2010 I actually stepped into the casino for the first time. Casinos, sans the flashiness of Vegas, are really pathetic places to me. We went though. Hey, it's a free meal. We got seated at the manufacturing table, which was fine. Until the dude next to me (my age) had very, very few teeth. He was telling the table that he didn't like the food (your choice of steak, chicken, fish with the standard mashed potatoes and veggies). Turns out he eats every meal at a fast food restaurant and he does NOT eat any fruit or vegetables, which might explain the teeth problem. He didn't know what the asparagus was on his plate. Then he and the rest of the table had asparagus eating dares, something that would happen in a cafeteria at a junior high. It was very apparent why he was single... The casino + asparagus table was a little too much for me. Again, it's a free meal, and I shouldn't complain.
-Could we have only gone to three of his parties? I can't remember more than that. Maybe if we did go to others they weren't noteworthy.
- This year is a cruise around the bay. I'm stocked because it's not a gambling theme for once. I'm kinda hesitant because 1) we'll be stuck on a boat without an escape and 2) it's been COLD here. Freezing cold. So you're putting us on a boat when it's 30 degrees out? I am actually fairly cold tolerant, but even I am thinking the wind chill factor is going to be hideous and we'll all be icicles on the deck or stuck inside without any real view. It does seem like it should be more of a summer thing, and even then it can be really cold here. Oh well, we'll see how it goes. And I'll be definitely reporting any 2011 holiday party weirdness. Maybe it will beat the pimp sighting and the toothless dude.
My husband, on the other hand, always has "interesting" work holiday parties. Back in the day, the Roaring Late 90s and very early 2000s, he worked for a company that was bought out by Mother Merrill. ML was incidentally my first employer. If there's one thing that the brokerage firm ML was (pre-BOA takeover) it was classy. They oozed success and confidence. His work holiday parties were very ML. One holiday party was in the top floor of a Seattle skyscraper, beautiful decor, fed wonderful food and alcohol, awesome prizes (not that we ever win, but the potential to win a cruise or a getaway or a big ass TV was always luring). Another time it was at a design studio, and the same concept applied. You dress up, expect to be wined and dined, and it doesn't disappoint. After all, it's ML.
Then he started his new job in 2003. Granted, any work holiday party would feel like a letdown after ML. ML's culture was all about impressing. I see through that, it's not really my thing in day-to-day life. However, one night a year of being treated like a princess is kind of nice.
The culture at his current work is very, very different from ML. He's in finance at his current work, but the place is more industrial. A different sort of person works with machines at his current work instead of working with people's money and benefits like at ML. It's really a whole different ballgame entirely.
At the ML parties, the worst things you observed were drunk people acting like idiots. At his current work holiday parties, it's a whole different source of things that make you go hmmm. I am thankful he has a job, and it's great that they put on holiday parties that include spouses. I'm not trying to be ungrateful. It's just the ML to current job difference in parties is quite apparent.
- A few years ago the party was at a hotel, which was great. I saw my first pimp ever in real life at the party. Pink suit, pink hat, surrounded by many women. He had to be a pimp. You don't see dudes in pink suits walking around with a horde of women often, do you? My first ever pimp sighting was at his work holiday party. Awesome. They had a surprise casino theme that night, which was cool. You got fake money to play with and they had set up several different tables. The dinner was actually nice. They made us wait til the very end to give out prizes...errr...prize. There was one grand prize at the end of the night instead of prizes throughout. So I'm thinking to myself what could be the grand prize...a trip, a computer, a video game system, a TV??? Guess what it ended up being? A $25 gift card to Red Robin. Seriously? That's the ONLY prize of the night? Obviously there had to be some budget issues involving the party, but still...seriously lame, especially when you build it up all night talking about the "grand prize."
- His holiday parties are always in January. You know, a month after everyone else's holiday party. If they must be in January, can't you say it's a New Year party or something?
- The 2009 party was at a racetrack nearby. I'm not a gambler, and horseracing definitely isn't my thing. Oh well, it's a free meal. That one was weird because they had a huge amount of red and green desserts. Thanks for serving 2-3 week old leftovers. Really appreciate that.
- 2006 or 2007 or 2008 was a rodeo theme. We didn't go to that one. They advertised it as having a mechanical bull. Seriously? You know how I tease myself about my white trashiness, but that really was too much. I don't want to see my husband's co-workers ride a mechanical bull. I protested that the mechanical bull was too white trashy even for me.
- 2010 was at the casino. Yes, they love gambling themes at his work. And I am a complete casino snob. I lived in Vegas, baby. Vegas does casinos well. After you've spent oodles of time in the fanciest casinos in the world, the casino down the street that reeks of smoke and has really pathetic entertainment does nothing for me. I'm also an amusement park snob. So, yeah, I've lived here almost 20 years and still haven't stepped into our version of an amusement park or our version of a casino. Well, 2010 I actually stepped into the casino for the first time. Casinos, sans the flashiness of Vegas, are really pathetic places to me. We went though. Hey, it's a free meal. We got seated at the manufacturing table, which was fine. Until the dude next to me (my age) had very, very few teeth. He was telling the table that he didn't like the food (your choice of steak, chicken, fish with the standard mashed potatoes and veggies). Turns out he eats every meal at a fast food restaurant and he does NOT eat any fruit or vegetables, which might explain the teeth problem. He didn't know what the asparagus was on his plate. Then he and the rest of the table had asparagus eating dares, something that would happen in a cafeteria at a junior high. It was very apparent why he was single... The casino + asparagus table was a little too much for me. Again, it's a free meal, and I shouldn't complain.
-Could we have only gone to three of his parties? I can't remember more than that. Maybe if we did go to others they weren't noteworthy.
- This year is a cruise around the bay. I'm stocked because it's not a gambling theme for once. I'm kinda hesitant because 1) we'll be stuck on a boat without an escape and 2) it's been COLD here. Freezing cold. So you're putting us on a boat when it's 30 degrees out? I am actually fairly cold tolerant, but even I am thinking the wind chill factor is going to be hideous and we'll all be icicles on the deck or stuck inside without any real view. It does seem like it should be more of a summer thing, and even then it can be really cold here. Oh well, we'll see how it goes. And I'll be definitely reporting any 2011 holiday party weirdness. Maybe it will beat the pimp sighting and the toothless dude.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
At some point, she'll have to sleep
I often say I have a high-strung daughter. And I do. The kid is wired so tight that she freaks out when the doorbell rings or her dad leaves the room. I wish I was joking. When she was itty bitty and fresh out of the womb, we gave her a pacifier. And, boy oh boy, that was the one thing she liked. When it slipped out of her mouth (before she really had mouth control), oh how she'd wail. Besides bouncing on the yoga ball, it was the one thing that calmed her...occasionally. A lot of the time she was too wired to even take the pacifier, but when she was merely agitated it tended to calm her.
When she was a year old, I was itching to take the pacifier away from her. However, the feeding therapist we went to observed her and said that she didn't recommend taking it away from her yet. Julia needed the pacifier to get back to "statis." It indeed calmed her down when she was agitated or anxious (i.e., all the time). Despite the frowns from the grandparents, we let her keep it longer. But we didn't let her use it in public.
This summer we took the pacifier away from her in the car and when she was awake. So she was down to having it only at night and during naps at home. At daycare she didn't use it during nap. While she does like to suck on it, she also likes to rub it. Her perfect bedtime is when she's sucking on one and rubbing the tip of another.
We haven't been able to move beyond that step. A month ago I asked her to throw one away, and she actually did (although I don't think she actually "got" it). So we were finally down to two pacifiers since we never bought any more after she turned a year old.
The day after Christmas we decided to force the issue. I cut off the tips of both of the remaining pacifiers. The first one she tried she said was, "Broken." Then she took it to the trash can and threw it away. Whew, one down! Then we gave her the last one, which was a different style. She said something along the lines of it being, "Broken," but she didn't throw that one away. Darn. But kind of good because it wasn't a cryfest all night. We put her to bed like usual.
And she didn't mention another word about it. She still requested her pacifier every night before bed, and even though the tip was cut off, she seemed okay. A few days later, we decided to raise the ante and cut more of the tip off. No reaction from her. She kept happily sucking on a shorter pacifier. Then we cut it again. It was starting to get really short. But Julia managed to suck on it a bit, and she still didn't complain. However, bed time was starting to get longer. Whinier, and she wouldn't fall asleep as well as usual. She was starting to take 1.5 - 2 hours to get to sleep. Then I did one more cut. At this point, the pacifier is maybe a centimeter long. There isn't much left of it all. Again, she didn't complain. But...she can't really suck on it at all. She can rub the tip of it and maybe do one suck, but after one suck it kinda falls out. She's basically down to rubbing it, which is AWESOME because that means she doesn't suck on it. That's the goal!!!!
The downside is sleep hell. It's been taking her 2 hours to get to sleep without the instant calm of her pacifier. She doesn't stay asleep well. She's up numerous times a night. Thankfully she doesn't complain about a broken pacifier, but she does complain about toddler things - need a drink of water (which makes sense because the pacifier probably kept her mouth wet and she's not used to it being dry), her legs hurt, her head hurts, she wants to be rocked, blah blah blah. Last night she fell asleep at 10pm finally, and she was up in the 1:00 hour, the 2:00 hour, and the 3:00 hour. We finally brought her to our bed because we needed to get some sleep. The night before she fell asleep at 11pm and woke up at 6am, which really isn't a lot of sleep for a toddler.
Due to the poor sleep, she's been a cranky beast. Lovely.
I put her to bed an hour ago, and she's still awake. She's made 3 complaints already, and I made her a hot dog upon request (which she actually did eat). At some point, she's going to collapse and learn how to cope without her pacifier, right? Because homey doesn't do all this sleep deprivation well, particularly at the beginning of the work week.
The moral of this story is that I screwed up. I should have started the pacifier cutting project well before Christmas so by the time we got to the little nub, I'd be on vacay still. But the thing is, I didn't know how she would react to it. I kinda thought it would have gone how it did with the second-to-last pacifier. She'd say it was "broken," she would realize it couldn't be fixed, then la-di-da off to bed with some screaming about her loss. A few bad nights toward the end of my vacay, and then she'd be through most of her stages of grief by the time I went back to work. Hmmmph. Didn't really happen that way, so I had to up the ante, and by the time I pushed her over the edge, I'm back at work. Hmmmph.
When she was a year old, I was itching to take the pacifier away from her. However, the feeding therapist we went to observed her and said that she didn't recommend taking it away from her yet. Julia needed the pacifier to get back to "statis." It indeed calmed her down when she was agitated or anxious (i.e., all the time). Despite the frowns from the grandparents, we let her keep it longer. But we didn't let her use it in public.
This summer we took the pacifier away from her in the car and when she was awake. So she was down to having it only at night and during naps at home. At daycare she didn't use it during nap. While she does like to suck on it, she also likes to rub it. Her perfect bedtime is when she's sucking on one and rubbing the tip of another.
We haven't been able to move beyond that step. A month ago I asked her to throw one away, and she actually did (although I don't think she actually "got" it). So we were finally down to two pacifiers since we never bought any more after she turned a year old.
The day after Christmas we decided to force the issue. I cut off the tips of both of the remaining pacifiers. The first one she tried she said was, "Broken." Then she took it to the trash can and threw it away. Whew, one down! Then we gave her the last one, which was a different style. She said something along the lines of it being, "Broken," but she didn't throw that one away. Darn. But kind of good because it wasn't a cryfest all night. We put her to bed like usual.
And she didn't mention another word about it. She still requested her pacifier every night before bed, and even though the tip was cut off, she seemed okay. A few days later, we decided to raise the ante and cut more of the tip off. No reaction from her. She kept happily sucking on a shorter pacifier. Then we cut it again. It was starting to get really short. But Julia managed to suck on it a bit, and she still didn't complain. However, bed time was starting to get longer. Whinier, and she wouldn't fall asleep as well as usual. She was starting to take 1.5 - 2 hours to get to sleep. Then I did one more cut. At this point, the pacifier is maybe a centimeter long. There isn't much left of it all. Again, she didn't complain. But...she can't really suck on it at all. She can rub the tip of it and maybe do one suck, but after one suck it kinda falls out. She's basically down to rubbing it, which is AWESOME because that means she doesn't suck on it. That's the goal!!!!
The downside is sleep hell. It's been taking her 2 hours to get to sleep without the instant calm of her pacifier. She doesn't stay asleep well. She's up numerous times a night. Thankfully she doesn't complain about a broken pacifier, but she does complain about toddler things - need a drink of water (which makes sense because the pacifier probably kept her mouth wet and she's not used to it being dry), her legs hurt, her head hurts, she wants to be rocked, blah blah blah. Last night she fell asleep at 10pm finally, and she was up in the 1:00 hour, the 2:00 hour, and the 3:00 hour. We finally brought her to our bed because we needed to get some sleep. The night before she fell asleep at 11pm and woke up at 6am, which really isn't a lot of sleep for a toddler.
Due to the poor sleep, she's been a cranky beast. Lovely.
I put her to bed an hour ago, and she's still awake. She's made 3 complaints already, and I made her a hot dog upon request (which she actually did eat). At some point, she's going to collapse and learn how to cope without her pacifier, right? Because homey doesn't do all this sleep deprivation well, particularly at the beginning of the work week.
The moral of this story is that I screwed up. I should have started the pacifier cutting project well before Christmas so by the time we got to the little nub, I'd be on vacay still. But the thing is, I didn't know how she would react to it. I kinda thought it would have gone how it did with the second-to-last pacifier. She'd say it was "broken," she would realize it couldn't be fixed, then la-di-da off to bed with some screaming about her loss. A few bad nights toward the end of my vacay, and then she'd be through most of her stages of grief by the time I went back to work. Hmmmph. Didn't really happen that way, so I had to up the ante, and by the time I pushed her over the edge, I'm back at work. Hmmmph.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Finding the Fence
Happy first post of 2011! A bit belated, but still...a first post it is.
I wish I could say that my short blog absence was due to a whirlwind vacation, winning the lottery, or flying to the moon. Alas, my only reason for being gone was that I had, umm, nothing to talk about. Literally. Today is the last day of my two-week vacation, which I have spent playing, reading, taking naps, taking baths, cuddling next to the space heater, a little bit of yardwork, eating, watching movies, and being with my husband and daughter. And all of that doesn't really irritate me. It's been very, very relaxing.
Today I spent some time in the backyard doing yardwork. I made an impressive pile o' yard crap. I had started today wanting to trim some ivy off the rock retaining wall. You know, because it had completely overgrown and was touching the ground over the rock wall and was really thick. Then I noticed this huge amount of ivy on what I thought was a fence only in theory. It really looked like a wall of ivy that was six inches thick. I kept clipping and pulling and clipping and pulling. An hour later I found a fence, and surprisingly the fence was in fairly good condition for being completely wrapped in ivy for who know how many years. I only cleared about 4 feet of fence; there's many more feet to go. But hey, it's a start.
Then I cut and yanked out lavender. There is SO much lavender in our backyard. And I'm so allergic. My allergies are better in the winter, so I could be out there for a little bit.
My reward for all that work is seeing the pile of yard crap (i.e., ivy, branches, lavender). Plus it feels good to have gotten a bit of a workout. Clear some stuff in the backyard + an exercise workout = two birds with one stone. I'm all about efficiency.
Off to my early bday dinner!
I wish I could say that my short blog absence was due to a whirlwind vacation, winning the lottery, or flying to the moon. Alas, my only reason for being gone was that I had, umm, nothing to talk about. Literally. Today is the last day of my two-week vacation, which I have spent playing, reading, taking naps, taking baths, cuddling next to the space heater, a little bit of yardwork, eating, watching movies, and being with my husband and daughter. And all of that doesn't really irritate me. It's been very, very relaxing.
Today I spent some time in the backyard doing yardwork. I made an impressive pile o' yard crap. I had started today wanting to trim some ivy off the rock retaining wall. You know, because it had completely overgrown and was touching the ground over the rock wall and was really thick. Then I noticed this huge amount of ivy on what I thought was a fence only in theory. It really looked like a wall of ivy that was six inches thick. I kept clipping and pulling and clipping and pulling. An hour later I found a fence, and surprisingly the fence was in fairly good condition for being completely wrapped in ivy for who know how many years. I only cleared about 4 feet of fence; there's many more feet to go. But hey, it's a start.
Then I cut and yanked out lavender. There is SO much lavender in our backyard. And I'm so allergic. My allergies are better in the winter, so I could be out there for a little bit.
My reward for all that work is seeing the pile of yard crap (i.e., ivy, branches, lavender). Plus it feels good to have gotten a bit of a workout. Clear some stuff in the backyard + an exercise workout = two birds with one stone. I'm all about efficiency.
Off to my early bday dinner!
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