Christmas Eve and Geek Happiness.

Ok, so I'm sitting in my Christmas pjs, drinking egg nog, watching Christmas movies, and enjoying the sight of my Christmas tree. And I do love the sight of a Christmas tree! According to family tradition, I opened one present tonight. I called Momola to tell her which present I had chosen, since it was one of her contributions to my Christmas, and she said, "oh, that's a gag gift, you might be disappointed." Hah, I'm so excited about it not only am I glad I decided I had time to make the pecan pie tomorrow morning, I'm tempted to make it right now, at 11pm, in order to use my gift. You see, she found me a PI plate! I love it so much I took a picture.

How wonderful is this? It's a great start to the holiday, that's for sure. I hope you all have a good morning - I already can't wait for the boys to come over for stockings and breakfast. Then we're out to Virginia for Daddo's turkey dinner with Lady's fixings. I hope Santa is good to you!

Happy Holidays and random trivia.

It was a slightly crazy week, but I was glad it went by fast - it's almost Christmas! I spent Saturday out in the burbs on a shopping frenzy with Momola I'm not going to lie, a lot of that shopping was for me. I needed stuff! Besides, the whole world is on sale! I got bargains, and work clothes, organizational tools for the house, and a fancy party dress for the office party in January that I may miss if my flights don't get in on time. The dress is so wonderful that if I miss the party then I'm making up a reason to go out in that lovely. Also, I "organized" a gathering for the big birthday - nothing big, despite the big birthday, I'm headed to my local, letting people buy me drinks to celebrate my doing nothing but being born, and maybe we'll move on to second bar later in the evening - anyone's welcome to come along, we'll be at Commonwealth around 8pm, AND Lee has promised to come up. No night with Lee ever goes by without a story to tell!

Ok, on my first night out post-disease, I met a new friend who introduced me to this piece of trivia:

What temperature does it have to be outside for spit to freeze before it hits the ground?

I'll tell next time.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Rockin' around the Christmas tree.

This is my beautiful Christmas tree, and this evening, while throwing virtual snowballs on Facebook, I looked up to find this:

a little kittay under the Christmas tree! She even stayed there while I plugged in the lights for optimal effect. And yes, those are dancing penguins on the floor, I have a feeling we went through this last year. Anyway, this year the artificial tree is new(er) and bigger, so the string of penguin lights gets a little lost, which is unfortunate; I may have to think of a new approach next year. But the ornaments are either penguins, glass balls, or glass eggs. I'm still in love with those penguin lights, though:
I mean, really, how great is that? My aunt found them for me a couple of years ago.

So yeah, that cat has claimed a spot under the tree, and I'm not going to put any presents there, because I'm a big sucker like that, and it's cute.

Those headlights are giggle-worthy, as well.

Sleeping sickness.

I was sick as a dog last week, coughed my way to a lone seat on the train coming back from New York, and it only got worse from there. I even stayed home sick one day - without having to use any sick time, which peeves me - but by the end of the day Thursday I was dragging. I made arrangements with my client to be available from home on Friday, but come Friday morning, even that wasn't an option. In addition to the cold that had exploded in my system, nose stopped up, throat raw, and coughing continuously, suddenly Friday morning I found mucus coming out of my eyeball. I know, it's gross, reading about it can't be worse than seeing it, particularly when you're seeing it come out of your own eyeball. A quick google search found conjunctivitis as the most likely cause, especially as preceeded by a sinus condition, such as a cold.

That's right, I had pink eye.

It was 6 o'clock in the morning when I woke up to this mess, and I couldn't call my doctor until after 9am. It was a miserable three hours spent carefully wiping my eye with cotton balls, washing my hands, and calling Momola to yell at her for giving me the grossness. (Note: that's not actually confirmed, but it turns out two people in her office floor were contaminated, and she saw them more than I, and the day before I had noted her red eyes. Also, I didn't actually yell, I merely guilted her into packing up and heading for the doctor herself.) I finally got in touch with my doctor's office and made an appointment, which required I rol into sweatpants, and a hat (bed head only affects me when I want to leave the house without showering) and head for the bus - I'm sure the folks on the bus were pumped to see me, coughing and blowing my nose, with one eye red, puffy, and half-closed.

My doctor is a taciturn man, whose occasional attempts at humor are those you'd expect from a doctor, "oh, you work for the government, you could tell me, but then you'd have to kill me, eh?" Except imagine that in a toneless deadpan. He seems generally unimpressed with any attempts for the patient to demonstrate knowledge - as he told me how to care for my eyes as if I were a small child I stepped in and told him I had been doing just as he said, and he just looked at me for a moment before continuing as if I hadn't interrupted. Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy, just a little short on the people skills. It actually freaks me out less than the doctors who are overly cheerful. I walked away with a prescription for eye drops and an admonition that I was highly contagious for 5 days and told to stay away from the general population. I got back on the bus and headed to Target, where I was told that they didn't have my eye drops in stock. Thinking that if I had to get back on the bus and go to the hospital pharmacy I'd be really annoyed (and already annoyed that I was going to be housebound for 5 days) I headed to the worst CVS ever. They had the eye drops... and every crying baby for a mile around. Here I am feeling awful for standing within six feet of any small person and risking passing the pink eye around, and these mothers keep crowding closer to me in line, cause it's a good idea to stand closer to someone whose eye is slowly closing. While the prescription was being filled, I headed back to Target to stock up on amusement for the next five days.
I acquired:

• new holiday pajamas (complete with holly berries)
• a penguin t-shirt
• a new wrap sweater that I never did get to wear, because they've turned the heat on in my apartment, oh, but it's wonderful
• penguin underpants (they came in a trio with holiday ornament underpants!)
• Arrested Development Season 2
• cold drugs (because when I cave, I cave absolutely)
• enough food to tide me over until the next day's Peapod delivery

And so I've spent the past five days at home, and until today, sleeping. We're talking all but six hours of the day sleeping, and they weren't consecutive. Even yesterday I was afraid that going back to work on Wednesday would be rough, but today I have been awake all day, nap-free! I put up and decorated my Christmas tree (penguins!) , wrapped some presents, did some online Christmas shopping, and even did some laundry - yay, me! I'm sure a full day tomorrow is going to wreck me, but I'm really excited about leaving the house tomorrow!

Oh yeah, and there are pictures of the tree - I'll post them later.

Only mathematicians...

Once again I found myself in a room surrounded by mathematicians and engineers. This time it wasn't beaches and ocean waters outside the meeting room, but the hustle and bustle of New York City, and all the people watching that goes along with it. Staring at equations, I found myself thinking many times, "only mathematicians." Only mathematicians schedule a two-day workshop for Friday and Saturday. In New York City.

So OK. I had my nights off dinner plans made. I could make it through. I was hopping the train at the end of the day Saturday so that I could have Sunday at home and breakfast with the boys. But back on point.

Only mathematicians still use slides and an overhead projector. He'd even written additional notes by hand with a marker. He stood up there looking like Geoffrey's Marmoset and talking so earnestly about Fourier domains. There was also the engineer who poked himself in the nose with the expandable pointer. He was absolutely shocked when it happened, too. I'm not sure why, I saw it coming.

But my absolute favorite is when academics are accidentally dirty while giving a talk. It happens more often than you'd think. Either that or I think about sex entirely too often - also a possibility. This time it was, "if you push me hard, you might not like the answers I give, but if you stroke me softly, you'll be more satisfied." I find myself looking around at these moments to see if anyone else has caught the double entendre. I'm generally alone. Probably for the best - if I caught another knowing eye I'd laugh out loud. And I don't laugh softly.

on travel.

I just got back from a quick trip up to NYC for a math workshop. While waiting for a friend at a restaurant I actually wrote out a post about the meeting itself - mathematicians are funny. But this weekend I haven't had time to log in and type it up. I actually worked both days this weekend, and I started to elaborate on that fact, but just sounded whiny. I've worked the weekend away, and am hoping to take some time off at the end of the week to compensate. We'll see how that goes. I wasn't the only person frustrated with having to work over the weekend, however. As the train pulled into Union Station, a man across the aisle, completely content to hold an inane conversation with his cute, young, co-worker while the train was moving, suddenly became "the guy who must be first off the train." Now I sympathize with that guy, I am that guy - to a point. Saturday night, I wanted to turn around and say, "Look, buddy, sigh one more time. Because that really lets me and everyone ese in front of you in the aisle know just how much we're in your way." You should have seen his face when I ended up in front of him in the cab line... the evil part of me grinned.

poke the bear.

After all of the feasting of Thanksgiving, and the impulsive shopping of Black Friday (who needs to buy Christmas presents? I got a dresser!) I was looking forward to a visit with Eric and Annie, who's baby bump is now impressive at 6 months. We went to the zoo, where an exhausted looking gorilla still hasn't given birth, and saw Golden-Lion Tamarins use a sleeping sloth bear as a hammock - right before they took food from the bear's mouth! Now, sloths are slow-moving creatures, but they do have some nasty looking claws, and I'd be loath to actually reach into the mouth of any creature that much bigger than me. But they did!

It was hilarious to watch. We also saw red pandas, always a hit, and Eric had to be dragged away from watching some copulating orangutans - yes, they do it all the time.

The rest of the visit was low-key, and involved a lot of discussion of baby names. Eric's favorite seems to be Limpkins Oakenstaff, which would involve a lot of beatings on the playground, but might be a character builder.

All-in-all, my holiday weekend was a raging success, and I had a great time. And of course, there's a picture of the bump:

Holiday Weekend

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving yesterday! I certainly did. I woke up early to start the cooking - making stuffing, getting the bird ready and started, and then doing the cleaning I hadn't accomplished the day before. (All but one room were swept, dusted and cleaned; of course, the room that I didn't get to was the living room.) The cheesecakes (that's right, I gave my guests cheesey-cake options) were made, and I had everything planned. Then the folks showed up right as my co-worker called for directions, Daddo pronounced the bird done early (350 instead of 325, oops!) and the potatoes weren't boiling. So it was a little crazy in the final moments, but Momola and I work well together in the kitchen, Daddo calmed down as soon as we gave him some knives to sharpen (grumble, grumble, distract with shiny objects), and all ended just fine. We sat down with good food, good wine, and chatted our way through turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, homemade gravy (yay me!), asparagus, cranberry sauce, bread, and finally, cake. Whew.

We toasted to a good meal and a happy holiday, but I've actually been thinking about what I was thankful for this year. I'm thankful for an entirely happy year, one in which family figured largely, and new friends were made. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving with friends and family.

daytripper

It was a busy weekend, followed by a twelve hour work day yesterday, so I'm looking forward to the long holiday weekend. I took the train up to Philly yesterday. Well, first I had to run for the train - I might have left the house a few minutes after I intended to. I made it, though, and just an hour and a half later we were sitting in a meeting room at Penn. Day trips are a little disorienting, because you start at stop at home, just like any other day, but somewhere in the middle you find yourself in a location that's outside your normal realm. We were delayed coming back, of course, which meant I got home ready for someone else to cook me dinner (yay, pub!) and hit the sack. Which is what I did. Not very exciting.

automaton.

Do you ever stop to think about how many things are done for us these days? Last night I was out for dinner with some wonderful people (yay!) and ducked to the restroom at one point. Without even thinking about it, I found myself standing in front of the sink, holding my hands out and waiting for the water to start. The faucet had a handle. I blame the restrooms at work - everything is automated there. The automatic toilet flushing is so sensitive you barely have time to stand up. Let me tell you, automatic flushing freaks me out. I had a roommate in college whose mother worked in germ research (bacteria or some such - I'm not a biologist), and she gave me the germ fact that has stuck in my head ever since, and probably will stick in my head until the proverbial end of (my) days. The toilet has a 6 foot germ spray radius. At least. We've all encountered the super flusher that sprays water (as well as germs) all over the place. As a result, I developed the "flush and run" technique in public restrooms, and a severe "lid down" rule in my house. These automatic flushers wreak havoc with my germ-phobia. I've started putting a square of toilet paper over the sensor so I could stand and re-dress in peace, and when ready to duck out I whip the tp off the sensor as I'm opening the door to the stall. Let's just call it a quirk and move on.

The point is, I stand and wait for the water to come on, I wave my hands in front of towel dispensers without looking for the lever, and once - just once - I walked into a glass door that I assumed had a sensor for automatic opening. I don't know if these automatic happenings are really making our lives easier or not (I guess not if we develop OCD behaviors to outsmart them) but I do know that the transition while some things are automatic and some aren't is kind of a pain.

As an aside, I find it funny that this toilet germ phobia is so strong. Yes, it's gross to think about, but in general I believe in exposure to germs - go with the 5 second rule, let your kids eat off the ground, and don't over-do the anti-bacterial soaps, we need exposure to germs to keep our immune systems going strong. I don't get flu shots because I'm neither super young or super old, and I've got faith in my body's ability to to develop its own antibodies. But bathroom germs? Heebie-geebies. And the MythBusters episode on bathroom germs? It didn't help me to know my actions were pointless.

babies and booze

The Dumpster came to visit last week. He came by the office, where his auntie taught him to cover himself with post-it flags. We went to the zoo, where auntie and Dumpster looked at the animals while his momma and uncle talked discussed 90210 (did you know it came back?). Auntie taught him 1-2-3, Jump! and he loved it. Now his momma complains I've hindered his number learning. I say, if you jump when he expects you to, he'll count just fine. And for the very first time, Auntie didn't get sick after playing with that baby - even though he was coming down with a cold! I think it's because I went straight from baby playtime to grown-up playtime and the liberal application of plenty of booze - alcohol kills germs, you know. I had two friends celebrating their birthdays Saturday night, so got all dolled up and disco fabulous (theme party, of course) and headed out after a disco nap. Good thing I took that nap, as I rolled back in around 4:30am. Nothing productive happened the next day.

Here's my favorite picture from the Dumpster's visit:

strongbad_email.exe

You never seen anything quite like these buttons!

(N.B. - The idea for this post is not mine. I saw Bill and Anna Friday night and she had read my last. As I told her more of the story, she said I reminded her of Strong Bad, and so, here we are. The following is obviously paraphrased.)

]Dear Astrowahoo,
You are so smart. I am not smart. Teach me about stars?
Sincerely,
Lack of Confidence, Maryland

a>Dear Lacking, My brother told me every day for the past week that I had not emailed you. To shut him up, I am emailing you. We live in a city, you can't see the stars. And the gift you sent me through him when I didn't respond right away? I already have one. Good luck growing a pair. Hoping we're done here, Astrowahoo.

]Dear Astrowahoo,
Thanks for your response, no worries it's over a week in coming, I will email you back the same night. I hear you like the zoo. Teach me about animals? Also, want to come over to my house for dinner a month from now? It will take me that long to think of something to say to you.
Hope to hear from you soon,
LC

]Dear Astrowahoo,
Only days ago, I asked about the zoo. Do we still have hipo there? My favorite. Hipos walk funny and make me think of Eeyore. Cute. Also, yay Friday.
Hope to hear from you soon,
LC

So, until next time, keep sending me your questions, and I will make fun of you, I mean, answer them.

I'm not emailing him back - I just can't. He misspelled hippo and spelled Eeyore correctly. I didn't even know how to spell Eeyore, and not being a 7-year-old girl, I'm not looking for a guy whose favorite cartoon character is a Disney creation.

The worst of it is, Momola read my last as a sigh over singledom, rather than a celebration that I'm not tied to an idiot. So, let's lay it out there - I'm glad I'm not tied to an idiot! Idiots often come with girl-motions and require long discussions about feelings and mush in between moments of extreme stupidity. Here's to finding a non-idiot, who doesn't take himself or me too seriously, with whom I can goof off and get laid. Until then? Bars. And batteries.

Things better left unsaid.

Recently, Christopher told me that in talking with a co-worker, the fact that I was a single girl in DC came up. The co-worker started asking about me and asked Christopher to introduce us. The response my lovely brother gave? "She doesn't like boys." Apparently then he heard the words coming out of his mouth, because he qualified it with, "I mean, she thinks boys are idiots." (OK, there is some truth there.) Not one to quit while he's behind, he elaborated with, "She's like Bones." For those of you not in the know, Bones is a character on tv - a forensic anthropologist who's scary smart, short on social skills, and meets cultural references with, "I don't understand." Since I'm not interacting on a daily basis with David Boreanaz, I don't see the upside of this comparison.

As a side note, Christopher did give said co-worker my email address, and the boy is cut from the "wow, you're so much smarter than I..." cloth. Makes me kind of wish Christopher had just stopped at, "she doesn't like boys."

This all happened in the same week a woman in my office saw my knitting in my bag - I'm knitting a little cap for Eric and Annie's baby boy in March - and I was told, "you knit and have a cat? That's so cute!" Seriously? Huh.

Make History.

I just left my local polling place. If you're not voting today, you're a big jerk. (OK, that's only true for Americans.) Can I tell you that I love voting? I do. I like thinking that even in some very small way, my voice is being heard. And this time? Oh, I woke up giddy this morning. I wanted to jump up and down. It doesn't matter that here in DC I could stay home and the lovely people around me would echo my thoughts with their votes, being a part of this election thrills me like no other voting day has yet. It's even better than the first time. I love it, and I'm wearing my "I voted" sticker with glee.

So go vote, jerks!

Trick or Treat

Thursday night found Momola, Meredith, and me in a discussion of Halloween costume glory. Little Dumpster was Buzz Lightyear, and having a great time with it, too. I was surprised to see him wearing the hood last night, though. Earlier in the week, when his parents took him to Disney for Halloween, he was not having any of it, and I kind of like that picture better:

Ha Ha! He's doing his very best to rip that bad boy off his head! Momola was feeling the Grandma-Guilt for not making his costume this year, and Meredith's feeling the Mom-Guilt for not making his costume, as Momola did so well when we were little. There was the princess that became a dress-up staple for a long time afterwards, the Hershey's Kiss, and I remember an M&M... Ironically, years later, without access to a fabric store in the city, I would go to Target, buy a Barbie princess costume, and rip it to shreds in order to make myself into a cosmopolitan - complete with a lime-wedge hat. I couldn't find a picture of that one, but both Momola and Meredith like the irony of going from princess to destruction of princess hopes for another little girl in pursuit of alcoholic fantasies. I say, No Comment. I couldn't find a picture of that fabulously fun costume. What I did find was the year I remembered being a princess, and more importantly, how Momola made me a crown with cardboard and aluminum foil. I emulated her creative genius to fashion a giant pair of tweezers and became a life-size Operation game. I picked up a doctor that year - or at least, a man dressed up as a doctor... in all honestly, he was a lame duck, all long phone conversation and no initiative. I hung up.

This year? I waited without really thinking about going out or fashioning a costume. I made last-minute plans to steals a friend's old costume idea (I'll refrain from mentioning it here, because in future years, I may still steal it). All my laziness paid off, however, when I got sick and spent Halloween in my comfy pants watching tv. It wasn't too shabby. Hope you all had a Happy Halloween. Me? I guess I'll start thinking about costume's for next year.

...and then the crazy walked in.

Tonight I met Neighbor Girl at the pub. She lives not far from the pub in the opposite direction, and we linked up for dinner. At what would have been the end of a night when we both proclaimed we weren't staying out late, a "regular" walked in - he was looking for a particular bartender, but recognized Neighbor Girl. An hour later, and a fair bit of bad breath, Mr. Crazy was still talking to us, and Neighbor Girl nodded to the bartender to bring some extra beer our way - it was either that or I was going to abandon her to her fate and run home to bed. The downside of being a regular is being known to the other regulars. He meant well, but... he was crazy! Also, how come the crazies all know the famous people? At least, according to them.

pub goodness.

I took my friends Bill and Anna to my pub tonight. They loved it, and I ran into my cousin. It was a good night. I don't see my cousin very often. I like him, and he lives near me, but we already had separate lives when I moved here, so I don't see him much. I should run into him more often. Also, Scotch eggs? Oh, so good.

I feel the need...

...the need for speed.

I spent the evening with my legs wrapped around an engine.

Get your mind out of the gutter, fools, I was driving a go-kart. Although, racing around the curves and gunning it on the straightaway? Totally hot. Maybe it's a good thing that when I got off the metro and thought about beer the bar at my pub was all full - nary a barstool in sight. That's a shame, as I was temporarily wide-awake with residual adrenaline, and drinking a beer while telling Bartender about my new appreciation for Danika Patrick sounded like a great idea. Don't get me wrong, I still don't understand watching race cars, but driving them? Any day.

With less than two weeks to go before the election, here's something to make you laugh:

Frustration and Inspiration.

Well, this weekend has not been at all as I envisioned it would be. I came home Friday night after an exhausting week, having spent many hours getting ready for a presentation to the the higher ups at my company. (It went well, but that's not really the point.) Also, I spent all afternoon moving office furniture, as my office mate moved into a solo office and I moved back to the window seat. I was pretty dead, and looking forward to a weekend around the apartment, doing some chores, and maybe starting the kitchen reorg I've been planning. Instead, as I walked down the hallway at 7pm, I found a piece of paper waiting on my door. In essence, it said:

Hello, tenant. It's after 4pm, so you can't ask the building manager about this, and we're delivering this letter with so little notice that you have one business day in which to talk to the building manager. Because sometime between Tuesday and Friday (how's that for a time frame?) we'll be coming into your apartment, your home. We're coming in to treat for the pests you don't have, because you clean your kitchen and have a cat. We're not telling you what chemical we'll be using to treat your apartment, whether vapor, liquid, or power, all we'll tell you is to move all your furniture to the center of each room and to move items in the kitchen and bathroom away from the walls (whatever that means, and the letter actually reads "a way from the walls"). Also, the chemical must be pretty bad, because we're going to ask you to shut your pet up in one room and let us know which room that is. We're not telling you if that means the fumes will still be around at the end of the day, or if fumes through the crack in the door to where the pet is will be a problem. Thanks, building management.

I am, as you might imagine, quite unimpressed. I would like to know what they're using in my home, where I've switched to a no-chemical cleaning policy. I also would like to know if that cat is going to be breathing fumes. And, my furniture is heavy, but if they're spraying liquid around the floor I don't want my furniture to be damaged. Luckily, I have a great Momola, who drove into the city on Saturday, helping me move the heaviest furniture and gathering up that cat and me and taking us to the suburbs. Kittay is spending the week out here, and I'll be leaving my windows open when I got to work each day, as well as waiting to wash my sheets and all my dishes again. I'm writing a letter.

In the meantime, I spent last night and today out in Virginia with Lady, and we lamed it up and took it easy. We watched Colin Powell on Meet the Press, and cheered. The beauty of it was, that he's an admirable man no matter who he chooses to endorse, but his endorsement was so well thought out and thorough, so calm and well-reasoned, and so inclusive. "[Mr. Obama is a lifelong Christian, not a Muslim, but] the really right answer is, what if he is?" It was wonderful to hear.

The boys have let me down.

I'm sitting here in my comfy pants, code running on the work machine, and dinner cooked and eaten. If only the Red Sox weren't losing my night would be pretty good. Wakefield, when you're on, no one can touch you. I just need you to be on tomorrow night.

The parentals brought by my Christmas present today - a lovely secretary desk that's been in the family... as long as I can remember. I'm sure Lady will remind me now. They took it to a magic repair guy and he fixed it right up. Now it's sitting in my living room and I'm organizing into it. Let's not lie, I'm a very happy girl when I get the chance to organize. And that cat? She's figuring out how to get on top of it. The cabinet on top makes that a tough one, but I have faith that she'll figure it out. Ok, back to work...

Saturday night's alright.

Another Saturday and I'm watchin' the Red Sox
I got some food, cuz I just went to the sto'

OK, maybe not my best made up song, but I'm calling my day productive: dry cleaning dropped off, check, mani-pedi, check, market, check. And now I've got a fridge full of treats and meals planned for the week ahead, the Red Sox on tv (GO SOX!), and pants with elastic for a waist on. A couple of years ago I'd've been disappointed, but today, I am more than satisfied with my evening plan. I'm enough over the food poisoning to have a beer at hand and pretzel chips with cheesy dip sitting next to me - OK, I'm as belchy as my brother-in-law, but there's no one here to be offended. He can't say that. I'm giving myself the lazy Saturday I haven't had in a while, particularly because I've brought work home for tomorrow and Monday (a government holiday, so nominally a day of rest). In my three full days of work this week I've managed to work enough to take back some of my sick time from Monday and Tuesday. Sounds good in theory, but unless you use your sick time what good is it? You only get to build up so much and then you stop accumulating it, so I want to at the very least get to use it when I'm actually sick. I feel gypped. Oh well, what can you do?

I'm not writing the post about what happened to my housefund in the stock market this year. I know, rationally, that things will turn around, but getting that "earnings" statement still hurts. It just makes me want to take my big raise (October paycheck, I can't wait!) and either spend it on a Burmuda weekend or stuff it in a mattress. Except I love my mattress just the way it is. Burmuda would be a good way to turn thirty...

no baby love.

That baby is too sick to come make his Auntie sick. That is some serious dedication to illness. He's got his momma missing her high school reunion, visiting with her family, and catching up with friends. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll be hearing about this for years. We're all bummed, of course, but mostly hoping he gets better soon. In the meantime, I'll just have to content myself with this image. Change the sippy cup to a longneck and I see that kid in twenty years. Ok, ok, we all know it won't be twenty years, but his momma reads this blog.

I was looking forward to hanging with Meredith this weekend, I was going to go camp out at the Folks' for maximum Meredith and Dumpster time. Daddo was none too impressed that kittay was still at the house (and she's still there). Now I get to arrange a kittay fetching and, gasp, clean my apartment?? I love that Dumpster to death, but what a time to get sick. Little loveable jerk.

is it the debate or the food poisoning?

Yup, I ate some bad oysters during my stay on Martha's Vineyard. They didn't get me right away, but in the middle of the night, right before we were supposed to get up and pack out, I woke up running to the bathroom. I spent the rest of the night trying desperately to sleep in between kneeling to the porcelain and the gurgles in my gut. Oh, it was awful. I had to listen for when Momola woke up and call out to her on the stairs, "I'm going to be less than usless this morning." There's nothing quite like being almost 30 years old, rushing out of the shower to stand, dripping and towel-wrapped, retching until tears come and having your mother have to come hold your hair. I made it through ferry, car, plane, and final car rides without losing anything else, but really, there was nothing left to lose. I arrived at my parents' house completely undone. I spent Monday napping at their house with the cat lying at my hip. I ate toast and broth.

Today I went to work. It was decided early on that I had no interest in my opera ticket for this evening, so that was given away. Shortly thereafter I decided that a full day might be too much for me. First I had a meeting to go to. It ended with a pizza delivery, and despite the hunger the smell awoke, the mingled smells of tomato sauce and jalapeno peppers quickly chased me out of the room. It wasn't too much longer that I was on the phone with Lady, telling her I had to pack it in soon. She listened briefly, and then announced, "you're about to become the girl who stops the train. I'm coming to pick you up." I assumed she was referring to the fact that Metro shuts down whenever someone sniffles, not stopping the train by falling in front of it, Anna Karenina style... She kindly drove me into the city, where I promptly fell asleep.

I'm awake now and watching the debate, and I'm so glad that McCain wants us to achieve peace in the world - he said so. He also tells us every time he's on tv that America has the best workers, the most productive and the most innovative. I'm not so sure about that these days. It was India that gave us Scrabulous, after all. And tell me more about the greed, excess, and crony-ism in Washington and Wall Street, old man, tell me more. Act like you never heard of the Keating Five. Also, I think Palin is rubbing off on him, because his sentence structure leaves something to be desired tonight. Way to side-step and ignore Darfur, you old jerk, you didn't even say the name. I should probably stop now.

Here's to some food with flavor tomorrow, assuming the politi-speak doesn't keep my stomach turned.

a place to summah

Wednesday morning found me at an airport... again. Travel was for fun this time, however, and that Lady and I were headed north to my favorite state. And not just Massachusetts, but Martha's Vineyard! I never made it to the island when I was living in Boston, but we found ourselves with a place to stay, so to Martha's Vineyard we went. It's been lovely, and I am already in love with this place as a vacation destination. We've wandered all over the island, and there will be more to come, but for now, here's a self-portrait I took on the beach:

kickin' it geek-style.

I spent the first half of last week sitting in a room full of men talking about theoretical mathematics. It's been an interesting time. The only women at the meeting work for the government. There were guys wearing birth-control glasses, and not retro-nerd-is-now-hip glasses, but honest-to-goodness I-do-not-have-sex-with-anyone-not-myself glasses. Preemptive comb-overs. Socks with sandals. Looking anywhere but the face of the person they're talking to. We're rocking some serious savant-type people skills. It makes for some very awkward silences. On the other hand, they've got kids, which means somewhere there is a woman who let them leave the house like that. Among other things.

I've learned a lot, though. And the meeting was at a resort on the California coast, so, you know, rough assignment.

Sunday drive.

Sunday found me driving north on I-5 from San Diego to Dana Point, CA. We didn't live in California for very long, but there are a few things that flash back every time I'm in this state. Wading in the ocean with my sister and mom (and another adult - Uncle T. seems unlikely, but that's the laugh I remember hearing), the two of us kids running back to splash in one more wave, and Momola racing back down the beach as the water knocked us over. Starfish crawling on my arms. Ice plant. Breaking off segments to play hopscotch by the school, watching the sun shrivel the pieces like raisins in the sun, using the pieces to write on walls. As I pass through town, these memories are juxtaposed by the sight of the Mormon temple, and the picture of me sitting next to Annie as we head to the Whole Foods right across the way when I came down for a visit. We were driving the same car that took us to Whole Foods in Charlottesville, where Em would sample from the bulk bins as we shopped for our nightly haphazard dinners. Dinners consisting of someone making risotto, someone making chicken on the Foreman grill, someone cutting up cheese and vegetables, and everything ending up on bowls of salad - with Em and the other swimmers spearing food from any dish within reach, whether pot, serving dish, or another's plate of food. These are the images that flash through my head whenever I drive through San Diego. It's not a bad mental collage.

polar bear bomb scare

Yesterday as I walked to work, I stumbled across one of those things that makes me smile and glad I live in a city, where madcap things happen. Someone had created a homeless polar bear, and he was rummaging through a trashcan. I smiled, a couple of high school girls screamed, which made me smile more, and then I got on my train and, in all honesty, forgot about it. Until later, when I stopped by the pub after softball. It turns out that my polar bear friend freaked some folks out. Later in the morning they called the cops, and the "unknown" nature of a mannequin dressed as a polar bear looking through a trashcan caused the bomb squad to be shut down. People were moved off the street, the Metro entrance was closed - you could still get on the Metro, but you had to cross the street - and the police dismantled the bear. Seriously. There's a story about it in the local paper. It seems like a slight over reaction.

very bad blogger

It's been a week, I know. Bad me. Even now I'm sleep-deprived and should be walking out the door rather than staring at the laptop. I blame Christopher. Saturday night I went over to his new place, where he and his Jason and I watched The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas and played Uno. He introduced me to On Demand! and I showed him Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog and The Guild. And then he loaned me a book. I wasn't reading as much as normal for a while, but right before vacation I got back to my usual book-devouring ways. But normally there's some restraint. Christopher loaned me In the Woods, by Tana French and I started it Sunday morning on the super long metro ride into the suburbs. It kept a girl going on three hours of sleep (insomnia, don't ask) and not enough coffee going through the swaying motion of the train, and I was enthralled. When a character claims the desire to "go off on a pedantic lecture on the meaning of irony" I'm in. I couldn't read it on the car ride into the woods (oh, ha), because we were lost and I was constantly waiting for blackberry to refresh it's google map so that I could attempt to tell which was our next turn. Hours of family fun later (I have a grave digger in my family, apparently) as we headed back towards the city, I looked forward to a bath and spending the evening reading my new book. And then I left it in the car as Momola dropped me off. As tired as I was, I was ready to cry. OK, I actually did cry, but not over the book, just sheer exhaustion and the little things that kept going wrong. Momola brought the book to the office Monday morning, and I have spent every waking hour (that I wasn't at work, at the bar, at softball, at poker night) reading not only that book, but when I finished it and had spent an afternoon at the doctor's office and doing laundry I told myself I'd earned it and hopped on a bus to go buy her second book, The Likeness. Murder mystery mayhem, they were lovely. The first was better than the second, but, well, I'm not going to ruin them for you.

So that's been my week, outside of bar, baseball, softball, and poker. PS - I like poker! I showed up last night and beginner's luck was working for me. I'd played once before, when a bunch of us grad students holed up in a condo in Vermont for a wedding and spent a day playing poker. I think I was bad, I know I was drunk, and luckily, we were all too broke to play for cash. Last night, however? Cash. And I won. I totally doubled my money for the evening, and that's including cab fare and booze. It was a good night.

kicking my ass.

This week has been doing just that. I was ready to come back from vacation, and even ready to go back to work, but it's been a pretty crazy week, and I just want to say, well, make it stop. Long days at the office, and lots of meetings have me very glad today is Friday.

I haven't finished writing about Boston - the post is half done - but it was so wonderful, and great to see people I've missed. And it's funny that just as I was realizing that it was people I missed more than the town, that I started meeting people in my neighborhood. Yes, cue the Mr. Rogers soundtrack, I was back at my local last night meeting new friends. I love meeting new friends. Especially funny ones, who make me laugh with mohawks and wisecracks, I even had a conversation about politics that was totally civil. So it's been a good after-hours week, but I'm still glad it's over, and I'm staying in tonight. There's a pair of comfy pants that have been feeling neglected...

beer, bartenders, and a drinking buddy

Twisted Thistle, Alex and Bill, and Rachael. Those are the things I found last night after a rough day back at work after vacation. They all make me very happy. This girl also got kissed last night, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that boys come and go, but bartenders and drinking buddies are for keeps.

only somewhat pink...

If you've never been to Block Island, well, then get on the boat. I flew Friday afternoon/evening back to the east coast, where I promptly fell asleep to visions of vacation. Saturday morning there were crepes in Coolidge Corner and familiar streets to travel, but don't let me vanish into the bookstore, because I had a train to catch. Train and ferry caught, I found myself standing in the sunshine on a breezy island that is all that you imagine small New England beaches to be. It was glorious. Neeners, JanemyJane, and Jane's man Dean and I basked in the glory of nothing to do and nowhere to be. We splashed in the water, played lasso-golf, and read in our beach chairs. I got a little pink, which is why I'm all covered up in the picture. Dean bbq-ed while we drank white wine and played cards. We drove to scenic overviews and stared at animals that one doesn't expect on a New England island (kangaroo??). We laughed, told stories, and laughed some more. It was brilliant. Tuesday found me well-rested and looking forward to finishing the week traipsing about Boston. Rediscovering favorite haunts and tastes I've missed, catching up with old friends. I reversed the ferry and train journey yesterday, made my way back to Eric and Annie's home, pet that cat, and then went for a walk involving a pedicure (beach feet), a coffee, and that bookstore I hadn't let myself venture into on Saturday. I love vacation.

Best Email, Ever.

About a week ago JanemyJane, Neeners, and I were discussing what to bring to the beach. I, coming from far away, offered what I had that was easily carried with me - Uno, one of the best card games ever, and made a comment about playing while drinking. JanemyJane emailed back, in classic form:

"I love Uno! I love being drunk!"

That's just classic.

Golden Gate Gone

I've been to San Francisco many times. There were the days after a BIMA observing run (telescope time requires a little recovery in the real world), the afternoon after Annie and Eric's wedding with Em, Brec, and Matthew, and a meeting in January. All told I think I've been in this town almost two weeks, and while the hunt was not continuous, I've never seen the Golden Gate Bridge. I don't think it exists.

I mentioned this to a friend here at Stanford, before he drove up for dinner last night. "Done," he said, "bring your camera." I did, but the city was against me. Fog rolled in yesterday afternoon, and by the evening when we drove up to the base I could see the base of one piling. It didn't stop a gaggle of tourists from taking pictures in front of the fog, though, which in and of itself may have been worth the trip...

Seadog and Tar

Friday night I raced home from seeing the new Star Wars movie to change and head out to see Christopher in a play that he and his boyfriend Jason (a.k.a., Seadog and Tar) have been rehearsing for the last six weeks: Captain Mascara and the Pirates of Maybelline - they were on the search for the Arc of the Eyelash. A bunch of fabulous gay men and queens on stage singing about the sober life and the quest for smudge-free mascara, making outrageous sexual puns and strutting their stuff. The take-away message was, there is no such thing, but you can't let that stop you from crying for Dead Diana.

Twice upon a time...

It's a small world, and we've all had our moments when this fact hits us over the head...

Twice upon a time my friend Jane and I discovered that we were about to go on a date with a boy the other had already gone out with. One of us would start talking about a guy we'd recently met, and the other would say, "Wait, this sounds awfully familiar. What's his name?" We never told the first boy - I wonder if he recognized either or both of us a year later when we all ended up in the same bar? We did tell the second boy, however. He got a big kick out of it. And then neither Jane nor I called him back. I don't know if he found that funny.

Twice upon a time I've found myself standing in line at Starbucks, only to realize that I was right behind a boy I've gone out with - and never called back. My first thought each time was, "this is random," followed shortly by, "maybe he won't recognize me..." I've gotten pretty good at avoiding eye contact and paying a lot of attention to my iPod/cellphone/blackberry. I know the guy I saw the other morning knew me, but it was a horrible dating experience - so bad it wasn't even funny! - and I was not going to acknowledge him.

being that asshole.

So a combination of thinking about my car free life and spending a couple days in the mid-west with a rental car made me remember something that I truly miss about having a car. I miss being that asshole. When the temperature is not too hot, the weather's not too humid, the windows are down, the sun is out, and that certain song comes on the radio. You crank the volume, and when the light changes, you hit the gas just a little harder than you need to. The car, the song, and the sun all combine in something that makes you smile, with an internal swagger, because you feel a little like Steve McQueen. Other drivers around you, assaulted by your music, frown and shake their heads, thinking to themselves, "that asshole." It doesn't matter, though, because you're cool.

I miss that moment. Sometimes, walking in the city, when I know I look cute, and my iPod is rocking out, I strut with a similar smile. But a strut is different than a swagger, it's more Pretty Woman than Steve McQueen, and there's something about summer driving that make you laugh when there's no joke. Maybe it's that, every once in a while, it's just plain fun to be that asshole.

PS - the great McQueen has been immortalized in song more than once, but my favorite is this one, by Julian Velard. Enjoy.

Dead tired, but awake.

I've been having an occasional problem with insomnia lately - and tonight it's 12:30am and I'm wide awake. I'm exhausted, too. I was with my client today from 7:30am until 10:07pm. It was a long day, my bag is packed for the flight back tomorrow, and I wish I was sound asleep right now. Oh, nelly.

Ohio, oh, my, oh.

I spent yesterday traveling - that's right, it took me 7 hours to make a trip that involved a one hour plane ride. Living the car-free live, I'm used to trips taking longer than they would otherwise. The market is only half a mile from my house, but when I'm making the trip with my granny cart we're talking 15 to 30 min, depending on sidewalk construction and how laden down my little cart is. I went to the doctor for a check-up on Friday, that's a solid half-hour walk with traffic lights and such, and that's not a full mile. These are trips on foot, as well. Add in public transportation, and my life just moves slower than people who drive. I don't usually mind this, but when a slow train causes me to miss a bus I should have made, I get a little annoyed. Get to the station, dump the strange people who talk to me despite my attempts to ignore them, and get moving. I wasn't annoyed at missing the bus to BWI at the time, actually, but all of my travel yesterday was delayed. I got on the plane and we pulled away from the gate only to sit on the tarmac for over an hour because thunderstorms to the west made a mess of flight plans. The two old women next to me where chatty, particularly over my head with the flight attendant. I just wanted my headphones and the newspaper. Even the headphones didn't block them out, and by the time the plane landed I'd had enough of backwoods thoughts on international travel. I bolted for the door. I was at the rental car place in record time, but the guy in front of me decided to slow down and flirt with the lady behind the counter (oh, and she was not worth it) and then a "member" of the rental agency popped in asking questions and got dealt with before me. She says she gave me a snazzier car for the inconvenience, but what do I care for a Chrysler Sebring? Sooo, not worth it.

I got to a hotel where I can't close the curtains (!) and all restaurants within a mile are of the Taco Bell, McDonalds, variety. Yucksters! I managed to find a little Mexican place open until 10pm on a Sunday night (whew) so my client and I could grab a quick bite and strategize about the meeting ahead of us. Now I'm headed that way - hope you all had a lovely Sunday...

what to write...

Maybe go with the cop-out? I've been working on the story of an old nick-name, but there's also a recent discussion of bruises... Oh, what a tease I am. I leave you with a promise of a real post tomorrow, and in the meantime, the best t-shirt support of a breast cancer cause to date:

"Save Second Base"

Seen on a t-shirt on the Metro not long ago.

a well-rounded geek.

At dinner Friday, I forget what exactly we were referring to as we discussed sneaky behavior, but Daddo piped up with the fact that the Russians say one's acting, "on the left."

"Sinister, if you will," I replied.

"Not just a geek, but a well-read geek," he snarked.

I was reminded of the previous Friday, when some of the folks from work and I went out to see James Bond in the park. It was Octopussy, and those madcap Russians had Commander Gogol working for them.

"He's not even wearing an overcoat!" I exclaimed, in true nerdy humor, because this rocket-girl has read her Russian classics, too. There was no response, no one caught the reference, even for a sarcasticly mocking, "hah!" came my way. It was disappointing.

Miracles and Rewards

Tonight I did the thing no woman should ever have to do. I went (gasp) bathing suit shopping. I've got a vacation with Janemyjane and Neeners coming up at the end of August, and we're going to be lazing about on a beach. Apparently, this requires an outfit, of the skimpy and spandex variety.

I know I'm a big girl, and I need to lose some weight. That said, I don't have a cascade of body issues - I'm pretty comfortable with who I am and how I look. Enough men have been more than happy to see me naked, and that alleviates the secret fears of being scary and hideous - maybe I am, but I don't know it. The part of me I hate most? My knees. It's ridiculous, I know, but I think I have chubby knees, and regardless of how chubby the rest of me may or may not be, I have never thought my knees were attractive. How knees can be attractive, I don't know, but mine aren't.

However, back to the topic on hand; bathing suits are not flattering unless you're a stick. They're spandex, which may smooth part of you, but leaves the rest to do strange things where the constrictive fabric ends. Very few women are comfortable in a bathing suit. The last time I was in a bathing suit was when I was in Greece, and I was too busy being in lurve to think about what I looked like - I love that about being around someone who you know likes you as you are, you lose your concern about your faults. Anyway, it's been a while, and while I still own that bathing suit, I'm not sure I know where it is, and, well, it's a bikini, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that all over again. So, having waiting until almost August, I'm late to the swimsuit market and dreading it. Thanks be to Jane. She clued me in to MiracleSuits. They are, quite simply, magic. They claim to make you look ten pounds slimmer, and I don't know or care about that, because they are comfortable, and flattering, and I liked how I felt in it. Of course, being a bathing suit, I saw some leg cellulite I hadn't realized was there, and those knees aren't hidden, but a girl can't have everything. Block Island, here I come! Note to self, dig out that old wrap...

As a reward, I went to the book store, where I may have forgotten my promise to live frugally this month in preparation for vacation at the end. Let's view it as cheap entertainment, and leave it at that. Besides, I got a new journal for working on blog posts and such away from the computer. I have a couple of stories and rants in the works, and rather than just working them out in my head, I want to flesh them out and edit them for real. I'll keep you posted - hee!

Things I've learned...

...from my mother:

• Both worry and love transcend distance.
• Pasta sauce doesn't come out of a jar and mac'n'cheese doesn't come out of a box.

...from my father:

• Always keep iced mugs in the freezer. You never know when your beer will need that extra chill.
• "Drink beer, it's cheaper." These wise words were spoken to his 17 year old daughter as he dropped her off for her first year of college - rock on.

...from my sister:

• Uncomfortable shoes are never worth it, no matter what they look like. This is exactly opposite of the lesson she intended.

...from my brother:

• The importance of being exactly who you are.

...from Bruce Willis and Michael Ballack:

• Blood can be HHHot!

Obviously, this list goes on. I've learned lessons, good and bad, from most of the people I've met. However, I was thinking lately about life lessons, and these things came to mind.

Wait for it...

I think I've said before, and I'm sure I'll say again, if Monday doesn't kick my ass, then Tuesday will surely suck. As such, there was trepidation yesterday when I was pretty sure my morning hadn't been rough enough to spare me from future ass-kicking. I was right.

Monday morning I was running late. I thought I'd be in the clear, but looked up at the clock and suddenly, I was late. So I sat down to e-mail some documents pertaining to a Monday morning meeting. I packed up my bag only to discover that the magic crackberry had neglected to turn himself off Sunday night, so the battery was drained - I am officially incommunicado. And late. Junk. I hop on the Metro, watching the clock. I make it out to VA, not in time to stop by my office first, but in time to make it to my client's office for our Monday AM meeting. I show up at his office, and he looks up in surprise to say, "you didn't get the message?" I'm just relieved to be off the Metro in some semblance of a timely manner, so I reassure him that I'm on my way in, it's no big deal, I'll see him in the afternoon, when he's rescheduled. I head over to my office with a detour for a bacon and egg sandwich and find myself thinking, this can't be it. My train ride was fairly smooth, and I would have been on time, so something still needs to go wrong. Wait for it.

The day goes as planned, meetings happen, plans for trivia night go down. Next thing I know it's time to leave the office, and by this time I've forgotten my morning worry that the Universe has not yet fulfilled my Monday dose. I pack up and head out - it'll be a late night, so no laptop, but don't forget that lunch Tupperware. I find my crackberry is charged and yet not turning on, which starts to bring the grumpy as Class Clown is not where I thought I was meeting him, and I have no way of contacting him now. I find him as I head over to meet up with J - not where I expected him, but he managed to fix the crackster, so I find myself still grumpy, but with no clear cause. We link up with J and head down to the Metro, where the full force of grumpy catches up with me as I realize that Tuesday I had a doctor's appointment, so had planned to work from home - that laptop would sure be useful for that! Oh, but I was mad at myself. And yes, I knew it was me I was mad at. It's a four block walk in the heat and a suit back to my office, and we're only just on time to get a table for trivia night, and I feel I can't leave J and Class Clown, as they've only met seconds ago. So I start debating the relative evil of a two hour back and forth in the morning for a couple of hours of work, and then decide that sending the "I'm an idiot" email (and I really did put that in the subject line, but I don't think that surprises you) to my client cohort and supervisor is justified. I want to spend Tuesday morning in my rainbow pants, dammit! I wasn't getting the appropriate amount of compassion from the guys - because who gets grumpy about working at home? - so I went for the quick phone call home for a little motherly sympathy. Um, hello, idiot, your phone batter is dead. It took a good while for me to get out of the funk, and it didn't happen before I told another co-worker to shut up for smiling at me. Thank goodness he just laughed at me.

By the end of the night I was feeling better, my cohort had promised to send the files I needed, and we had the best trivia night performance yet - take that secret nemesis team, we beat you! (Also, when they're score was announced to be less than ours, we cheered and people stared.) But I was exhausted by the turmoil of the day when I got home; good and bad, I was one tired girl.

I still live in fear of Mondays. And my doctor's appointment was canceled.

PS - I saw a shot of myself on the robot show - my ass looks huge. What's the saying? The camera adds twenty pounds?

Rainbows.

I don't do well in large stores. I don't like to shop under the best of circumstances, but put me in a department store or all-purpose place like Target, and I pretty quickly go into sensory overload. I don't know why exactly; is it the people who stand too close to look at the same item, the noise, the sheer abundance of choices to make, or the bright colors of all the things you hadn't come to buy? Unclear, but once the meltdown starts there are only two paths. The first is immediate escape, often without whatever it was I had gone in to buy - away from the people, the lights, and all of it. The second option is the overshop. I take too long, meander, and end up with things I don't need and can't always justify. This is what happened to me today when I entered Target to buy two plastic file boxes. That's it, that's all I needed. Suddenly I remembered that I needed new headphones for my iPod. Then I passed an end cap and remembered, I've been meaning to pick up some cd/dvd envelopes. And the grocery store didn't have the face soap I really like, so I'll check to see if it's here. The first season of Arrested Development was only 19$, so into the cart. I found myself strangely drawn to a short-sleeve sweatshirt with a flowery "Cambridge" printed on the front. I've made fun of short-sleeve sweatshirts in my head for months, but this one I could not resist. And pajama pants with rainbows on them.

But really? I needed those. I mean, seriously. Rainbows.

Meeting the neighbors...

Tonight I'm a little tipsy from wine and James Bond, but who wouldn't be affected by that combination??

Last night there was a tenants association meeting in my apartment building. My Very Attractive Neighbor was not there. I had been hopeful. I only see him occasionally, though we live on the same hall. I run into him sometimes as he walks his dog.

If I lived in a smaller building maybe I'd know more of my neighbors. There'd be a little old lady with a little nose and a big heart in everybody's business. One day she'd stop me and my Very Attractive Neighbor in the hall with "do you two dears know each other?" There'd be a gleam in her eye. And then we'd chat, and Very Attractive Neighbor would find me very charming. Kittay would learn to love his giant dog and we'd all live happily every after.

I need to move to a smaller building with a nosy little old lady...

You look good to me.

Once upon a time, a man whom I'd gone round and round with said those words to me. Said those words not with the flippancy you'd first think, but with an earnestness in voice and eye that said it wasn't me, that it was him behind our random walk of flirtation and unreturned phone calls. Kissing in his car while the snow fell outside and then not seeing him for months, it was his issues and hang-ups at work, not mine. I saw this and I smiled. Not being one for gracefully accepting compliments, I probably laughed it off. Deep down, however, I was gratified. Here was a man who smiled when he saw me, thought I was fascinating, and to whom I looked good. Suddenly it didn't matter that we would never get together; it was enough for me to hear those words and know he meant them.

Every woman should have that at least once.

I'm holding out for number two...

Insomnia and a milestone

I just realized that I passed the two year blogger mark - the archives are back. I read through them tonight, and it's been a crazy couple of years. I'm finally sleepy, so that's all for tonight.

The Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

In honor of the "less is more" philosophy of life:

It was so hot and humid this morning that I had to remind myself that I'd chosen to live in this swamp. My neighbor's mulch smelled like poo. I couldn't get on the first two red line trains that pulled into the station. A (male) co-worker told me I looked exhausted. I spent five minutes pressing cool fingers under my eyes - were there bags there? I bolted out of the office realizing I'd just make it to the dry cleaners on time. Forty minutes later I was three Metro stops from my office, and an hour and forty-five minutes later I was above ground in my neighborhood, the dry cleaners long closed, feeling stale, starving, and now, exhausted. I had scowled at a little girl on the train. All told, with a quick trip through CVS for toilet paper and a stop at the neighborhood pizza joint for a slice to eat in the tub, it took me two hours and fifteen minutes to get from my office to my home. The maintenance guy had been in my house; he didn't leave a note, but I have a new drain in my tub. I shrugged, turned on the water, shoved a bite of pizza in my mouth, and proceeded to leave clothes all around the apartment - I'll deal with them tomorrow.

starting the week right.

It's Monday morning and I just did ball sit-ups while listening to McCain steamroll Meredith Viera - yay me, and boo her! That girl should stick to interviewing movie stars.

archives...

This picture is titled, "what happens when I'm not around," but it works as an illustration of my Sunday, as well. Because I read, napped, and cuddled with Kittay all day long. She followed me to every new spot - nestled under my shoulder as I sprawled on my stomach on the bed, climbed onto my belly when I was curled on the loveseat with my feet in the air, and camped out on my lap while I read in a chair. It's been a pretty great Sunday, if only those boys had called back - a quick run for milk and I'd have made breakfast as usual, but one's notorious for not calling back.

I found a new blog to read - I sort of stumbled upon it in a random bout of internet surfing, and when a new blog is discovered I find myself going back, back through the archives, reading a history online, getting to know someone I don't know at all. This girl with a cat lived in Boston when I did, and lives in cities and dates boys, and tells stories about it all. I loved reading about how our lives overlapped.

It made me think about my own online history. I recently took down my archives on the old site that stopped working (see googlestinks). There was quite a bit on the old pages about the "awful situation", and on the off chance the wrong someone stumbled upon it, I took it down. Part of this comes from a desire to spread the word a little more about this site, without causing a rehash of all of the bad that I (truly) find myself not angry about anymore. I'd taken down the old pages, with all of the Boston, Janemyjane, and boy stories that I love, and a big chunk of personal growth through not-so-anonymous sharing. Of course, with the change from one venue to another, I don't know how much traffic those pages would get, or if it just makes a difference to me to know that those stories are still out there. It's not like I'm big in the blogosphere, so there aren't many random visitors who stop to read through my archives, hoping to get to know me without every having to meet me. Having gotten into the habit of blogging, however, my archives feel like a piece of me.

decadence is...

Decadence is getting out of the bathtub in order to refill your wine glass, and then climbing back into the tub. Is it excess to make a sandwich for the tub after a zoo-shift when your hungry? Decadence is puckered toes on a Saturday night. Decadence is knowing that your going to spend your 30th birthday with your very best friend. I don't care where we go, my friend, I just want to be with you.

Happy Home Dance

I'm working from home today, for the second time this week. As I almost called in sick yesterday, it was a near thing to spending more time at home than the office. A near thing. I wasn't truly sick; I got a nosebleed yesterday morning in the shower. The last time this happened was in Boston, where I actually got them not frequently, but not infrequently, either. They were usually accompanied by dizzy spells, one so bad I couldn't get out of bed for hours. I went to the doctor (read, stupid college health clinic where they treat grad students and 18 year olds alike - as in the same). They took my blood pressure, and while on the low side, it wasn't dangerously low, so I was told that all was well. They sent me home. Now I have a real job and real, grown-up insurance, and yet, I have not been to any doctor in over a year. So I've made a list of doctors and priorities, and today I'm calling to make an appointment.

But working from home has advantages beyond the fact that I am wearing gym shorts and not wearing a bra. I'm also listening to music out loud - loud! And more than just dancing on my chair (which is now a ball in the office - dancing is both easier and more dangerous) I can get up and shake it like a Polaroid! I decided this morning that it's time to reinstate the Happy Home Dance. In Boston, when I first moved into my very own tiny studio I would come home from work, kick off my shoes, pick a song, push play, and spend my first five minutes jumping, shimmying, swaying, and occasionally, flailing. It wasn't that I didn't love my roommate, but it was so great to know that I was in a domain that was totally mine, and no one would intrude, laugh, or be shocked at anything I did. And so I danced with abandon.

When I moved here I spent time after work either suffering from heat exhaustion (a/c didn't join me in this apartment until this summer, and last September was HHHOT!) or unpacking and organizing. Not to mention the fact that I now have to get out of work clothes before the sweat from the walk home has rendered them unwearable for another day. Somehow the Happy Home Dance slipped from my routine. As I rediscovered an old favorite cd and song this morning (Starlight in Daden by Ekova on the Traveler '00 album) I found myself jumping. And shimmying. And flailing. And the Happy Home Dance has been reinstated.

cars, cable, and memories

I called the cable company this morning to add on to my current package. The guy on the phone said, "now, for six months you either get a discount or a movie channel free..." I don't care about the movie channels, dude, I want the Science Channel!!! I got it specifically for the opportunity to watch the Discovery documentary on the Urban Challenge - Astrowahoo might be on tv!

But as I sit here waiting for Robocars! to come on, I find myself fascinated by learning how they make electric razors, and how the shipping industry works - they're showing us how Peterbilt big rigs are made, and showing the living cabin in the back. I have a sudden flashback to a hot day and a broken down car on the side of the road. Momola and two little girls with a mile to go before the next exit and a car that's not going anywhere. So we started walking. An eighteen wheeler pulled over, and as no one would consider today, we climbed in. My sister and I bounced on the cot in the back as we were driven up the road to the nearest gas station, where we called for a tow and a ride. It was a different time.

Anyway, I had plans to kill this additional cable when the episodes of this documentary where over, but my goodness are these shows cool! I'm fascinated by "How Do They Do It?" and did you know that on GreenPlanet Emeril now has a "green" cooking show?? Ok, we're almost halfway through the first episode of Robocars! and it's so exciting - funny to see people I know on tv, but they've done a great job with the show, and I'm having a great time watching the teams gearing up for the race! It's going to be a couple of episodes, I think, before any glimpse of me will be on, I'll keep you posted.

projects.

Friday night I was invited to a picnic at the zoo - they threw a bash with which to appreciate their volunteers. It was quite the event and a very good time, even if it was humid and sticky out. I like my fellow volunteers, and we don't see each other when we're actually on the job, so these things are always fun. There's a meeting on Tuesday of this week, which involves a short lecture on an animal-related topic, so I'm excited.

After a lovely brunch with the boys - I am quite the little homemaker! - Momola came into the city to help me hand the pictures that have been in boxes for the last... ten months. I'm down to a small pile of boxes in the office that remain to be unpacked - it's books for which I have no bookcase and papers for which I have no file cabinet. I'm making a prioritized list of things I need:

1. vacuum cleaner
2. file cabinet
3. headboard for bed
4. bookshelves (at least two required for books I own, without consideration for books I've yet to buy)
5. nightstands
6. dresser

The order of those last two is negotiable, and all of this waits for two things: my impending Block Island trip with Neeners and Janemyjane that ends with half a week in Boston (hello Washington Square Tavern and Liquid Hair Salon!), and... a vacation with Momola to Martha's Vineyard!!

That's right, two amazing things happened at work this week. First, a proposal I submitted to do some extra work (!) resulted in extra work, but comes with a bonus, so is hard to argue with! Second, Lady and I gave a monetary donation to a girl who's about to spend the next year and so living out of a van (down by the river? not quite) traveling and volunteering - she had a raffle for thsoe who donated, and we won a place to stay on Martha's Vineyard! What's even better, Momola's initial reaction was, "I can't take vacation, you go..." but I talked her out of it and we're headed off for some mother-daughter bonding time, with the possible addition of her best friend (she of "blue sparkling hell" fame) and maybe Janemyjane and Neeners?? The details are far from even being fuzzy, but Lady has agreed to go, and I'm so excited!

Anyway, I'm planning a work-at-home day for Tuesday, and have a plan to take some pictures of the newly decorated place, that way you guys can see my lovely, almost-furnished home!

Sunday morning activity.

Sleep this weekend has been abnormal. Friday night I was in bed at 10:45pm, counting on an early(ish) morning wake-up. At 9:45am, when my bleary eyes opened, it was already hot outside. So I lazed, doing work around the house until I had no choice but to brave the heat for a run to the market. Then I was awake until almost 2am, with no droopy eyes, and yet, at 6:45am this morning my eyes were once again open. So...

I went for a Sunday morning run! I mapped out a circle in my neighborhood, rolled my iPod dial to Timbaland (oh, Timbaland, where you gonna run to?) and headed off - I even included the hill down the block, which, it turns out, is much bigger than I thought. I'm not going to discuss length of run or time it took me, but I will say that it was better than I thought - back when I was running 5 or so miles at a go a couple of times a week I was never much better than a 9 minute mile (hey, I've got short legs!) and while not by a long shot at that, I'm not as slow as I feared. And I ran the whole way, no walking. What's that you say? You saw me and walking would have been faster? If you're talking about the time spent on my ribcage on the sidewalk when I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, well, fine. But if you're talking about the rest of the time, then just shut up. Sheesh.

Humiliation Motivation and Dragon Slaying

I sent my old personal trainer back in Boston a message telling her how cute her niece was, and mentioned that I’d be back in Beantown in August. I told her I missed my lovely all-women gym and had canceled my gym membership down here because Gold's Gym was disgusting and dirty. So she wrote me back and said I'd get a pass when I was up there and visit her at the gym. Great... I mean, Phyllis once had me in the best shape of my life, and I love Healthworks and working out with her, but she used to make me run stairs, and I don't want to think about what I'd look like trying to run stairs now - I'm pretty sure crawling doesn't look like running. There are lots of excuses, until recently there hasn't been a gym near my home and I hated the gym near my work. I am busy and often out in the evenings, and when I am home, I'm tired. It is too damn hot to breathe outside here in the swampland that is DC. But it all comes down to this - I don't want Phyllis to see me trying to work out in the shape I'm in (or not in) right now. So knowing that I will work out with her at the end of August has me motivated - I've got exercise tubing and it's light outside when I get home and my apartment building has stairs, five flights of them. So I'm going to start working out to prepare for working out - how's that, Phyl? You think I'm kidding, but I stopped at Target on the way home to get an exercise ball so that I could do those ridiculously hard pikes and push-ups and maybe even some ab work. (Actually, I bought two balls - one is about to become my chair at work, so I can do my core work at my desk! And I can't wait to practice feet up balancing as a quick break at the office!)

So the trip to Target actually resulted in a whole new reason to post - bugs. Specifically giant creatures that live in warehouses in then hide in cardboard boxes. I've had a few cockroaches in the kitchen, and it's hard knowing that it's not about wiping down the counter tops more often, but more about the fact that Washington DC was built on a swamp! I've got bay leaves scattered in every cabinet and for the most part, we're ok. But the apartment building has a problem with your average run-of-the-mill bugs. This evening I unpacked the home exercise ball, and then went into the kitchen to make sausage balls for a potluck lunch at work tomorrow. I came out to listen to something Rachel Maddow was saying on Countdown (PS - I don't like when she's substituting for Keith Olbermann) when a scurry by my foot made me scream bloody murder. On a side note, if ever killed in my apartment, my neighbors won't call the cops, they'll just go about their business. If that's not enough to trigger a Bridget Jones-eque fear of dying at home with no one to notice but the pack of wild dogs, I don't know what is. Back to the scurry. The biggest cockroach I have ever seen was scuttling around my floor. While I screamed it made it's way down the hall, tucking along the wall so I couldn't quite tell (it was moving fast) if it ducked into my giant storage closet or went into my bedroom. I knew there would be a night spent with every light in the apartment on if I didn't commence the hunt right then. I knew this because in Arizona the appearance of a palmetto bug (think forearm sized remnant of the Jurassic period), followed by the inexplicable disappearance when I went to get a bowl or pot to throw over the creature, once chased me out into the night and over to a boy's house. Say what you will about my slutty behavior, that monster was scary. So tonight, with no escape plan and a scared kittay, I gathered up the Glamour magazine that has mysteriously begun showing up in my mail and headed down the hall. Luckily, my entrance into the bedroom dislodged the roach from its spot by the door and it started to head for under the bed - time to act, as I was not up to getting down on my knees to reach under the bed to try to swat this thing. I landed a solid blow with the magazine and hoped I hit the target. I did - hurrah! I prematurely threw the magazine away and got a broom and dustpan to scoop the roach into the toilet. It twitched and while on its back tried to move away from me, so a couple of hits with the broom were necessary, but at last, the bug was dead and flushed down the toilet. However, this thing was bigger than my thumb, and the final deathblows required a closer examination of the thing than I would have liked. Result, I won't be eating grasshoppers again, watching the leg twitch was too much. I took all offending packaging from the exercise ball immediately down to the recycling room in the basement. I also took the Target shopping bag that still contained the ball for the office. I opened that box and discarded it down there in the basement. I'm not saying every Target box contains a giant bug, but I wasn't taking any chances. Also, there are fewer bugs in Boston.

DC beats Boston on the 4th of July.

Argh. I started this post and then there was an error and Mozilla had to shut down, which means I lost what I typed. What junk. I was starting to tell the story of my do-nothing weekend. It sounds boring, but I was being pretty funny, so you'll have to tell me if I successfully re-create it. I'm doubtful.

There were a couple of ridiculously stressful weeks at work. It was so crazy I couldn't even take joy in saying, "I told you so." when my client admitted that he shouldn't ever say, "things will be less crazy after..." because things are never less crazy. This past week wasn't the race of constant deadlines, but I was tired from the weeks before and spent my time taking care of all the small things I pushed off while fighting more urgent fires. I had some thoughts of summertime in academia, lunches at the BU pub (two hot dogs for a dollar when you buy a beer!) out in the sunshine. That's nostalgia, not wishful thinking, by the way. Besides, down here it's too damn hot to stop and eat your lunch outside.

All this humidity has me in a bad place. It's sticky even when it's not sweltering outside, and when it is, I'm miserable. I used the phrase "hotter than blue sparkling hell" the other day, and it caused a good laugh among the co-workers. Momola's best friend says that a lot, and the goal of the past couple years has been to find the drink that can truly be christened "Blue Sparkling Hell." I just had a thought on that front, actually, so I'll keep you posted.

Anyway, with crazy work weeks and crazier weekends (I was out in the 'burbs both of the last two weekends and my calendar was jampacked for both of them) I ended this week - no I started this week, but it just carried through - exhausted. I left work on Thursday and had to force myself to go to the grocery store if only to prevent the necessity of having to go Friday during the day. My entire goal this weekend was recovery, and to accomplish that I planned to do as close to absolutely nothing as I could manage. I pretty much succeeded, and I'm here on Sunday night telling you that it was wonderful! I sat and read a book (Sleeping Dogs, by Thomas Perry - thrilling!) and watched some bad movies on tv (Blade is worse than I remember it being) and played some Samurai Sudoku online (man, that is an addictive logic game!). I did leave the house Friday night for the fireworks. I walked over to my friend Billy's house to stand on his roof deck in the drizzle waiting for the fireworks to start, and catching up with the boys I don't see often enough. We had a view of the Washington Monument, and in the mist the city lines were softened. It was like looking at a watercolor of the world. The fireworks had me impressed by the view, though someone had just said, "it's weird when you can't hear them" when from behind me I hear, "boom!" and there were a number of pops that followed - it was fireworks in the park in our neighborhood, and there more in the distance. So it was fireworks on all sides, including some folks on the street shooting off rockets that had to have been illegal, but were fun to see, nonetheless. The verdict? DC beats Boston on the 4th of July. I've always loved the Boston fireworks, but T-ing it down to the top of my office building, and facing a long walk or a crowded T ride back home, with fireworks that sold out last year to include commercial breaks for ABC (sell outs, it's worth repeating) just isn't the same as seeing not only the large scale show of a major city, but being surrounded by explosions of color and celebration - all in the comfort of your own little neighborhood. That's brilliant. And roof decks? I've not fully appreciated them in the past. It's easily ten degrees cooler when you're four floors up, and there's a breeze up there that doesn't ever touch the ground. It was lovely up there, and as I walked home later and marvelled at the moisture in the air that made foggy and fuzzy at the end of the block, I promised myself that I would have a roof deck some day soon.

The rest of my weekend? Fulfilled all my weekend dreams. I volunteered at the zoo on Saturday - the gorillas were in fine form and not only visible, but fairly active. There was lots of posturing and interactions, and that's always fun to discuss with visitors. This morning was breakfast with the boys - Christopher and Dirty Matt only, because Christopher left Jason at home to deal with the cable guy. I summoned the energy to do some laundry and a little work, but the highlight of my day involved a strawberry-banana milkshake when I broke out the milkshake maker. It's been a good day, a good weekend, and I'm a rested and happy girl. Hope you all had a good 4th of July - go Sox!

Gramola and Grumpa!

The folks flew down to Florida today - they are visiting the Dumpster, and already loving it! Here's a picture of Grumpa playing with that baby while Gramola took a nap.That little boy looks pretty happy. Right now Meredith and Daddo are at a Red Sox game, while Momola watches (and spoils) the Dumpster. I'm jealous, but I sit here with a cuddly cat on my lap and watch the 2006 BBC version of Jane Eyre, and I'm content. It's been a long week, productive, but long, and I'll be glad when tomorrow is over. I've promised myself a quiet weekend, and I can't wait. Anyway, today hasn't left me with much excitement to share, but this picture made me smile, and I thought you would like to see the little boy who recently learned to say, "Auntie!"