Melancholy

A few lousy days on top of a bad weekend on top of a few rough months have left me angry and depressed, and I try not to spew that kind of angst on this blog. There's enough negativity in the world without me adding to it.

So as soon as I shake off my funk we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program. In the meantime, thanks for your patience.

Indulgence

Today I made a brunch of pancakes (the classic Joy of Cooking recipe that my dad always made growing up) studded with fresh blueberries (purchased at the Mercato yesterday) and drizzled with real maple syrup (smuggled back on a plane by yours truly from the East coast because they do it better there), plus pepper-crusted bacon (mmm... bacon) and mimosas with hand-squeezed OJ (we seem to have lost our elecric citrus juicer during our exodus for fumigation, which is sad since it's probably the most frequently used appliance in our house)...

All while still in my PJs.

Contrition

Dear Daylight Savings Time,

I know I said some hurtful things on Monday morning. Things we probably both regret.

But I've had some time to think about it, and maybe I don't really hate you.

Maybe you're right. Maybe the fact that it's still light out when I leave work late is worth a few painfully-early-feeling mornings.

I hope we can put all this animosity behind us.

Love and hugs,
L

Argentine

My brother and I worked out together at lunch today. He's kind enough to let me prattle on about crap like why I love my new running shirt for ten minutes straight. (At least until he picks up our pace enough to ensure I can't get enough oxygen to breathe anymore, much less speak. I'm sure that's not at all strategic on his part though.)

Anyway, he still manages to keep our conversations interesting. (Despite my best efforts to bore him to death.)

***

Me: So did I tell you what I love about my new workout shirt?

JB: No, I don't believe you did. Unless it's that it's super light-weight and breathable. You might have mentioned that. Four or five times.

Me: That too, but it also has this technology where they weave silver or something into the fibers.

JB: Silver? Does that give it a higher SPF rating?

Me: No, it helps it repel...

JB: Vampires!

Me: What? No, odor. It helps repel stinky sweat odor.

JB: And vampires.

Me: Yes, it repels odor and vampires. Which is a valid concern when you're working out in Southern California. Outside. In the middle of the afternoon.

***

Wait, isn't it werewolves who are allergic to silver anyway? Crap. We'd better get that figured out before I walk into a nest of vampires thinking my (amazingly light-weight and breathable) running shirt is going to protect me.

Culling

This weekend I tried on everything I don't wear regularly and ditched anything I wouldn't buy all over again if I was trying it on in a store today. Sure I saved a few things for sentimental reasons, but I've already filled two whole garbage bags with clothing to donate and I have more still to go!

Let me explain. (And this is where the crazy starts, so if you're adverse to insanity, now might be the time to avert your eyes.)

Evicted

After three years, I still feel fairly new to life in California. Lots of things about living here still surprise me or strike me as odd.

For example, having grown up in Ohio and upstate New York, it's still a miracle to me that I'm not buried in 4+ feet of snow 9 months out of the year.

Also, there are basically no insects here except for a few spiders. (Yes, I know spiders aren't technically insects, but Webster promises that they fit under the "non-technical" definition of insects. Roll with me on this one.) And apparently termites.

Because we got a letter informing us that we have termites and thus the condo association was going to fumigate our building and we'd need to find alternate housing for three days.

Nomenclature

I think I've mentioned before that I volunteer for a Swedish cultural center. Lately I've been helping plan their Easter brunch. The best part? They call it Eggsexa. I may just have the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy, but I'm pretty sure that's never going to get old...

Seriously thought, I'm pretty sure that's the best name for a party. Ever.

Allegories (or is it Allusions?)

I just tried to convince one of my consultants that his broken Word document was like the platform for the train to Hogwarts. You know, Platform # 9¾? The one that’s invisible, but if you run straight at the very real-seeming wall, you magically don’t crash headfirst into brick but instead end up where you want to go? You know the one I mean.

Only in this case he needed to delete something that didn’t seem to exist in order to fix his problem. (He had a mysterious extra section break that was throwing off his page numbering, if you must know.)

Anyway, the metaphor made more sense in my head. Before I tried to explain it.

Maybe I need better allegories. Or is it allusions? Crap. Now I have to go find literary works to cite that aren’t written for pre-teens AND a dictionary. Lame.

Linguistics

For the first time ever in a single week, I’ve gotten to use every foreign language I know: French, Spanish and Italian on the job, Swedish at the cultural center where I volunteer, and sign language giving a deaf stranger directions.

And here I thought I was just learning languages for fun.

Timidity

Coworker: How's it going?

Me: Good, but I'm really busy. I've been here for almost 12 hours now with no lunch break and I still have more work to get done before I can go home.

Coworker: That's nice. Did I ever tell you about my favorite pen? I could write a sonnet about how much I love this pen. In fact, I'm going to stand here in your office and eulogize about my pen, ad nauseam, for 45 minutes...

***

Seriously, why can’t I just tell people to buzz off?

Saccharine

I spent the afternoon volunteering at our local Swedish cultural center. I get to learn about Swedish culture and then share it with the public, which is awesome, except for the fact that I also gorge myself on coffee and sugary-sweet almond bread the entire time. It's very Swedish of me, and the combination of caffiene and sugar is great for the first two hours, but by hour 3 I'm pretty much convinced I'm dying.

(Spoiler alert: I didn't die. But I did feel like crap for several hours.)

Crepuscule

I live near the ocean. Okay, I work near the ocean and live near a bay. Whatever. I get lots of awesome oceanscapes (bayscapes?) driving to and from work (and anywhere else in close proximity). If I time my day right, I get to watch the sunset over the water on my way home.

In fact, I bribe myself into getting up early in the morning with promises of sunsets on my drive home. (That's normal, right?)

Retrospective (2010)

Happy New Year!

I made goals for myself for last year. I haven't gotten that far this year (I'm mostly focused on my 30-before-30 list through July anyway), so instead, let's review last year's resolutions and see how they went.

Patralineal

Today I’m wishing happy birthday to the woman who gave me a love of reading, mad crochet skills, and a fondness for pie. Plus, she taught me how to milk a cow, deal with evil chickens (that's all of them, in case you were wondering), and make just about anything out of fabric scraps. And her molasses cookies rock.

You wish your grandmother was as awesome.

Homonym

I flew to Philadelphia today for work. My carry-on suitcase weighed about 50 pounds because I got to hand carry all of the handouts for the event. (They weren’t printed in time to ship.) My boyfriend kindly dragged my bag down the 3-flights of stairs from our condo to the car, and while wincing under the weight, asked if I was even going to be able to hoist the bag into the overhead bin on the plane.

Since I was walking away at the time, I yelled back to him, across the entire length of our condo complex,

"Have you seen my snatch? I think I can handle it!”

My boyfriend froze for about 5 seconds and then lost it.

Based on the reaction of our neighbors who were around at the time, I’m guessing they didn’t realize that I was referencing my proven ability to complete the weight-lifting move known as a snatch as evidence of my ability to lift a heavy suitcase above my head.

Things like this are why our neighbors hustle their kids past our door on Halloween. (Come back! I promise our candy doesn't contain razor blades!)

Imprudent

Dear Self-from-last-night,

You needed to drink an entire bottle of wine? Really? And basically skip dinner?

Just because Self-from-this-morning inexplicably woke up without a hangover doesn’t mean that was a good life choice. (Actually, I’m pretty sure it means that Self-from-this-morning is just still drunk.)

Sincerely,
Self-from-this-morning

Update: Self-from-this-afternoon can confirm that, yes, self-from-this-morning was definitely still drunk.

Vociferate

I would have woken up screaming last night, but when I clawed my way out of sleep the air was congealed in my lungs. This is uncommon, but not unprecedented. I have a ridiculously overactive imagination and a rich inner landscape, which often spill over into my dreams.

Only I don’t dream, I embark on epic quests. I have dreams so detailed and nuanced that they should be full-length feature films. I’m often fighting and running. I frequently battle evil. Sometimes I fall in love. Sometimes I revel in solitude. Sometimes I triumph. Sometimes I die. I dream almost every night and usually, when I wake up, I remember my dreams in all their Technicolor glory.

I also usually recognize that it was just a dream. Sometimes, however, it takes me a while to get to that point. Sometimes even when I realize it was a dream it was so deeply disturbing that I still can’t shake it off. Last night was one of those nights.

Embattled

I had a dream last night that I was kneeling up in bed, a war cry on my lips while I brandished a pillow to fend off the hoard of mechanical spiders spilling up and over my headboard. (No clue why they were mechanical. But they totally were little tiny robot arachnids.)

That’s when my boyfriend woke me up.

Because, apparently, I really was kneeling up in bed, while yelling, and brandishing a pillow.

No spiders though, which was actually kind of a letdown. But I think the fact that I was actually shouting and swinging a pillow in real life, just like in my dream, is kind of awesome.

Side note: Is it weird that I was bummed to discover that I wasn’t actually battling tiny robot arachnids? I’m not really fond of spiders, and I certainly wasn’t disappointed that my bed wasn’t full of a swarm of them. I think I’m just looking for the epic in life.

And, while I’m pondering, why robot spiders? Were regular spiders not exciting enough? My dream interpretation books agree that spiders signify change, but there’s no mention of what robot spiders indicate. Perhaps there’s a new computer in my future or something?

Scholarly

This came up during conversation today and it's always amused me, so I thought I'd share. (The fact that it does amuse me is probably a sign of just how twisted I am, but oh well.)

In grade school, I used to skip recess to shelve books in the library.

Why?

Impetus

So in my eternal quest to keep "The Man" happy (a.k.a. remain gainfully employed), I'm sometimes (regularly) asked to do things I don't really like. What kinds of things, you may ask? (Or more likely not, but you've read this far, don't stop now!) Well, I work in marketing, so my job is to find ways to invade your life and convince you it would be better if you picked XYZ. In my case, XYZ is a financial related product.

Who likes thinking about this kind of financial stuff?

No one.

I'm not into the sexy financial stuff like stocks, I'm into the stuff where people cringe and back away slowly when you mention it.

So my job is to sell you something that you probably need but don't want to think about.