tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87249502024-03-07T10:20:40.275-08:00Irregardless...abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.comBlogger342125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-27805942077784112572011-05-16T16:40:00.000-07:002011-05-16T16:40:54.135-07:00My Favorite Animal Is Puppies...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtb2lzOp8xIs-ekFFvOuBMqsd6hK1WOAmT89D84hpsMT-U8Kc0dFSgxjN6S_I5U7Y-SBLEF3N_UQkMO8Tki5_rJLM6-hR0vcoPk4gfO2ybiDuM26LX5BDzxytkwsLbruS2YCZ/s1600/JakeStairs.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtb2lzOp8xIs-ekFFvOuBMqsd6hK1WOAmT89D84hpsMT-U8Kc0dFSgxjN6S_I5U7Y-SBLEF3N_UQkMO8Tki5_rJLM6-hR0vcoPk4gfO2ybiDuM26LX5BDzxytkwsLbruS2YCZ/s400/JakeStairs.png" /></a></div><br />
Anybody who knows me knows that I love dogs. Almost all dogs, though I am not that fond of the various poodles (mini, regular and/or standard). I have always had rescue dogs, with the exception of our latest, Jake, who is the offspring of our friends' dog. <br />
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Given my fondness of all things puppy and, specifically, rescue puppy, I decided a few months ago to start volunteering at the Oregon Humane Society. I promised myself that I would try to take some of the emotion out of the job. As a prerequisite I had to promise Ben that I wouldn't bring home any dogs. For the last few months I have been in extensive orientations, registrations, mentor meetings and dog handling training, but I am slowly starting to learn my way around. I also am slowly starting to feel like I have been contributing to making all of those canines' hopefully short stays at the Humane Society a more pleasant experience. I take dogs on walks, clean out their kennels, give them a fresh blanket in the evening, and sometimes I just sit with them when they're looking sad. It really has been a humbling experience. <br />
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Yesterday was an especially rough day in that the heartbreak came at me from nowhere. As I said hi to each dog and handed out treats, I noticed a larger than usual number of medical issues. There were two dogs who recently lost one of their legs. They hobbled to get their treats, tails wagging and smiles on their faces, as if this was just a minor setback. There was one guy whose eyeball tended to come out of its socket. He was super happy to get a treat. I usually don't see this many medical cases at once, at least not in my short stint here. Yet none of these hit me that hard.<br />
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Close to the end of my day I had one last row of kennels to visit. I came upon a larger kennel that held two rather large dogs. Both dogs were huddled in the corner and wouldn't make eye contact with me. I tossed them some hot dog bits, but they didn't respond. They lay there, huddling in the corner, guarding their food bowls, avoiding eye contact at all times. When I looked at their paperwork, I noticed that they were 5 years old. I also noticed the following: "Lived in shelters entire lives. Not accustomed to human interaction."<br />
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I felt as if a ton of bricks had hit me square on the shoulders. I had to stop to catch my breath as I stared at the card and then back at them. I wasn't expecting this. How can people do this to a dog? They've never known the joy of a dog park, or a swim, or even a camping trip with their human friends. All they know is how to live in a kennel. It was absolutely heartbreaking.<br />
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I left the room in a haze. I sort of wandered for a minute, but felt more and more emotion coming over me until it was overwhelming and I had to leave. That feeling would not leave me for the remainder of the day and still hasn't, although it has subsided a bit now that I have had some time to think about the situation. Even though they are at the Humane Society, they are in a better place than they probably were before. They have constant interaction with people. They will be walked on a regular basis. They will have people who come to see them, just to see how they're doing. but the most reassuring thought is that they will be rehabilitated to function as normally as possible. There are so many employees and volunteers there who actually care. They are in a place where somebody's #1 goal is to get these guys ready to go home, and not to another shelter.<br />
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After considering never going back, I came to the realization that this won't be the last time I come across this type of situation. But that's OK. All of those guys need somebody to visit with, and that's why I'm there. I just hope that next time I won't be caught so off guard.<strike><strike></strike></strike>abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-17706195944333171252011-04-05T09:47:00.000-07:002011-04-05T09:47:19.487-07:00Word of the Day: Feeble<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjz1mFm1tYQxI02AZyiEfm6QFp5fB-vB8tIfGw3sNg11yve8kJRsl3mW2K2bMhlkiuEmz070ptFNtsvyclQ-y2GhYsYoalzUEcj4CYtPTAB6SZzhBJ3Rj6H9g7ZPcpg7cwnFM2/s1600/old-couple-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="257" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjz1mFm1tYQxI02AZyiEfm6QFp5fB-vB8tIfGw3sNg11yve8kJRsl3mW2K2bMhlkiuEmz070ptFNtsvyclQ-y2GhYsYoalzUEcj4CYtPTAB6SZzhBJ3Rj6H9g7ZPcpg7cwnFM2/s400/old-couple-3.jpg" /></a></div>How timely, this is exactly how I have been feeling for the last month: Feeble. It started out, what seems ages ago, with a little cough. That developed into a sinus infection, which developed into a mondo cough, which developed into walking pneumonia. Anything with a silent "p" sucks. Bring on the antibiotics! <br />
<br />
So I started feeling a little better, even worked out a time or two. Then came the appointment. Earlier in the year I asked my doctor about a suspicious mole. She recommended that I have it removed. So I did last week. Leading up to the appointment I was nervous, somebody was going to cut a part of me off. Even though that part was definitely not cute, and potentially harmful, it was still attached to me, and somebody was going to cut it out of me. Little did I know that the procedure itself would be the least of my worries. How about the recovery? Nobody talked to me about that! The mole was removed from my left side, on the upper ribcage. So, you know, a part that is constantly moving as a result of standing upright. Good times!<br />
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The first night after the procedure was awful. The local wore off and I woke up at 2am feeling like somebody was scraping at my skin with a dull knife. I panicked a little and got up real fast. Then I almost passed out. Then I popped 4 Advil and went back to sleep. After a week, I'm still not right. It's healing, but so very slowly, due to the location. Movement is still limited.<br />
<br />
If somebody were to tell me 2 weeks ago what the recovery from this would be like, I would have completely chickened out. No way in hell. So maybe it's a good thing that I didn't know? And if somebody were to tell me last December what my March/April would be like, I would have never left Maui.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-77783862669761225272009-08-10T15:26:00.000-07:002009-08-10T15:59:43.156-07:00On MotivationMostly everybody can relate to lacking motivation at times. You want to get off your ass and do something, but the ass part of you just doesn't wanna move. Sometimes, not going completely batshit crazy is the only motivation that keeps you going through the day. <br /><br />I have come to realize that the year 2009 has not been very nice to me. I don't know what I did to piss it off so badly, but it has decided to kick me in the ass over and over again. <br /><br />Beginning in February all the way through today, this afternoon in fact, I have tallied a total of ONE great thing that has happened (defining great as in "Wow, I will remember this for a long time") and 4 life-changing awful things. And by awful I mean health issues and multiple family member deaths. Just when something good finally happens, 2009 comes back and says, "I don't think so, lady. This isn't your year." <br /><br />And the one thing that has truly saved me from going into a deep dark place and never coming out? Friggin exercise. I'm not prone to depression, but I do get some anxiety here and there. Exercise has truly kept it from surfacing, which is such a god-send considering the circumstances of the last 8 months. I have never experienced so much as I have in the last year, but I think I have dealt with it pretty well. That is definitely due to a great support system that I am very lucky to have. But it is largely due to the fact that I get all that aggression out on some concrete or a bike. <br /><br />And the new gym that is opening right down the street next week? It better watch the hell out. The year's not over yet.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-69898329246753447792009-08-05T16:37:00.000-07:002009-08-05T17:35:27.455-07:00Sophie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqANgNNF-nCV_0Dgy-AArfQ6p3GBRQhop63f709j7Rwx80U3YVeFBLi8jWVgPXHlOog4Udv8caukM-ZfyjCCk2jpM5sfrb-a-kWHO6sSz_GwhyphenhyphengVrE0OLUcd9i3exy5elvuQo/s1600-h/SophieDay1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqANgNNF-nCV_0Dgy-AArfQ6p3GBRQhop63f709j7Rwx80U3YVeFBLi8jWVgPXHlOog4Udv8caukM-ZfyjCCk2jpM5sfrb-a-kWHO6sSz_GwhyphenhyphengVrE0OLUcd9i3exy5elvuQo/s400/SophieDay1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366628346897006338" /></a><br />We got Sophie in 1997, she was 6 weeks old. This is her when we first brought her home. Note how giant her paws were, that was a clear indicator of how giant she would become. She has been with us for over 12 years, the sweetest, silliest, smartest dog on earth. She has moved with us from Northern California, to Southern California to Portland. We've watched her grow into an old lady over the years, her gray hair traveling from around her nose all the way to the top of her head. <br /><br />Recently Sophie was diagnosed with bone cancer. She has had a limp in her paw for a while now. On Monday she was unable to get out of bed, her back legs had completely stopped functioning. Even when she slept, in her running dreams she only used her front paws. I told B about it, he had to see it for himself before he took it seriously.<br /><br />That night B came home and had her get out of bed and go out in the yard. With some assistance she got up and stumbled like a drunk man into the yard, falling multiple times along the way. After about 10 minutes they hadn't come back, so I went out to the yard to see what was going on. What I saw will haunt my dreams for years. Sophie was laying on the grass panting heavily, and B was sitting next to her crying. When I asked him what was wrong he simply said, "I didn't think it would happen this fast." <br /><br />For years and years we made a deal with eachother. Whatever goes wrong with the dog, who weighs 105 lbs. by the way, as long as she can go the bathroom by herself we can manage. Neither one of us thought that it would actually happen. We gave her many chances to get up, we tried helping her so many times, but we could see the look of frustration on her face. Her legs were done. After a few hours of agonizing tears, we made the call to the vet. She would only be with us for another 15 hours.<br /><br />The next morning, neither one of us needed an alarm to get up, we had not slept very well that night. I got up and decided that Sophie would feel better and we could cancel the appointment. I tried. She tried. She wasn't getting up. She was wagging her tail and eating just fine, she just did all of those things from her bed. At this point she hadn't gone to the bathroom for almost 24 hours. Both of us pleaded with her, just get up, just for a few minutes, just to go to the bathroom. Hell, you can pee on the deck if you want, just get up. All we got was a frustrated whimper. We spent the next few hours sitting with her on the floor, spending as much time as possible. <br /><br />At 11:30 we both took a great big breath and pulled the car up. B picked her up and put her in the car. He completely broke down at that point. When we got to the vet I went inside while he waited with Sophie in the car. We carried her in through the side door and put her in a room that was all ready with a comfy blanket on the floor. As soon as she laid down she peed what seemed gallons. She had the biggest look of relief on her face. This is when things started to feel very surreal.<br /><br />The vet came in and told us what to expect. She would be given an initial shot that would slowly dope her up. That should take about 10 minutes. After that she would be given another injection, via IV, and would be gone within one minute.<br /><br />The first shot was given. I was really happy to see that Sophie was extremely happy. Like happier than she had been in weeks. Usually when we take her to the vet she shakes, but there was no shaking. We grabbed a big bag of treats and just started shoveling them at her. She was insanely happy and hyper. She had more energy than we've seen in months. We kept giving her treats and petting her. She gave us kisses and gobbled up the treats. Right then one of the vet techs who dogsat Sophie about 3 years ago walked in. She came to say goodbye. This was the most touching gesture.<br /><br />After about 5 minutes she started slowing down. Fast. The treats were all gone and her head started to fall and her eyes got heavy. I was holding her paw, which I noticed was really tense this entire time. In fact, as I remember, it had been tense for about 2 months. It was the paw where the bone cancer started. That paw, and all of the tenseness within, finally relaxed completely. It was at that point that I realized that she could no longer see. So we decided that she could still feel and hear us. And we just talked to her.<br /><br />After another 5 minutes the vet came in with an assistant. It was time to administer the final dose. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be in the room for this part, but B said that he wasn't leaving. So I decided to stay but not look. So I buried my head in B's arm while he held Sophie's paw. I was balling. B was balling. I opened my eyes and saw that the assistant was also crying. She had never met us before. One minute later the vet put her stethoscope to Sophie's heart and made the announcement in a very quiet voice, "She's gone now. Take your time saying goodbye." And she left. <br /><br />We got on the floor, said our goodbyes and left. <br /><br />I drove home as fast as I could. I was about to break down and didn't want to crash the car. As soon as I walked in the house I saw her bed. It still had wet spots from where she drank water. As if having the exact same thought, B started cleaning. First he threw out the bed, then vacuumed the house, she was a big shedder. I got rid of her food, bowls and Costco box of treats. This may sound slightly wrong, but it was extremely therapeutic. After it was all done, it felt better to cry and look at her pictures. <br /><br />As the day went on, we talked about her more. Every sentence began with, "Remember when Sophie..." And the day just went on and on like that. Funny stories replaced feelings of guilt. We kept reassuring eachother that this was the best thing for her, that she would have only been in more pain if we waited any longer. <br /><br />This morning was rough. I expected to hear her wagging tail hitting the wall as I walked into the room. But it was quiet. Too quiet. More quiet than I ever remember the house being. There was a lot of sadness this morning. <br /><br />I had to write this down, just to get it out. It was absolutely the worst day of my life, one that I will never forget.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-62683161793778007972009-07-19T17:12:00.000-07:002009-07-19T17:12:04.311-07:00How I Spent My SundayLiving the American Dream. Beer & baseball.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNT86rTleZznyxnXpYucCTXLXQjxvXBIiT5LSFlgAsb540jFbuDrkfJ6tNYVNElvwOCCGUqkVWVF4p4H2g2Gf6MmbNAZycNzEhLI82mXfUw7KbibbUwAkfoePWQPMvQEumrEjh/s1600-h/P1040053.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNT86rTleZznyxnXpYucCTXLXQjxvXBIiT5LSFlgAsb540jFbuDrkfJ6tNYVNElvwOCCGUqkVWVF4p4H2g2Gf6MmbNAZycNzEhLI82mXfUw7KbibbUwAkfoePWQPMvQEumrEjh/s400/P1040053.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-33601220379780557782009-07-11T22:17:00.000-07:002009-07-11T22:19:19.847-07:00Good Lord It's TastyToday I was picking berries in the yard in an effort to not let anything go to waste. I had just seen Food Inc. last night (if you haven't seen it you must) and was feeling the need to utilize what I have within reach. So, I grabbed the current issue of Real Simple (LOVE): <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbh-evC_rJOxmCliFw9Z954OkP63YXthdZCAqSPAZ6iEIXPfUSzojcQjIj5vWkhFPeHymtLyeUHQMYmmViX9L3g8cy8EVWiRpt9HgZaR-2TPux1WedkfH7w34Q4Fhsn_TF291y/s1600-h/P1040037.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbh-evC_rJOxmCliFw9Z954OkP63YXthdZCAqSPAZ6iEIXPfUSzojcQjIj5vWkhFPeHymtLyeUHQMYmmViX9L3g8cy8EVWiRpt9HgZaR-2TPux1WedkfH7w34Q4Fhsn_TF291y/s400/P1040037.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />And made this:<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw-qvL-adTwLIyWzF_Pt3ib52oy0-ldvrObvNTuP-b9juCtmat4D8Av0qzGlo3JMOhs5645xMwMwB5PcYbNBxAFHYrYCiMMMnB4EZ1Vyx4mUxEalJOhD4ZadKEiS4ZBSn-37H/s1600-h/P1040036.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw-qvL-adTwLIyWzF_Pt3ib52oy0-ldvrObvNTuP-b9juCtmat4D8Av0qzGlo3JMOhs5645xMwMwB5PcYbNBxAFHYrYCiMMMnB4EZ1Vyx4mUxEalJOhD4ZadKEiS4ZBSn-37H/s400/P1040036.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />The recipe was originally for a peach crisp but I decided that fruit is fruit, and how can it be bad to make berries instead of peaches! Turns out, I was right. It was damn tasty!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-70588480541986632762009-07-09T15:59:00.000-07:002009-07-09T16:06:00.221-07:00Best Day Evah!I'm taking Friday off, just for the hell of it. I can't wait! I have the following planned:<br /><br />1. Facial/massage at a day spa. Awesome way to start the day.<br />2. Sidewalk sale at a handbag store 2 blocks from the day spa.<br />3. A little research at the local library. Apparently the front stairs of my house were featured in Sunset Magazine in either 1998 or 1999. I plan on digging through those archives until I find the article.<br />4. A little lunch. Maybe a local food cart or a salad from the garden.<br />5. Bike ride along the river.<br />6. Sitting my ass down on some grass and reading a book.<br />7. Seeing a movie. <br /><br />Who will have the best day ever? <br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Pointing thumbs at self.</span> <br />This girl!abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-55168265742045596472009-06-29T13:17:00.000-07:002009-06-29T13:27:48.220-07:00Thinkin'<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAK2JuVwShpiuz7MqHoKtr9cElNZddRnxcfIkxeF0OseaGK9CaB-oWRC44yWvHJ9wPf0Oih7TjyynN_QfFMxjz9pXIJsi9EBoAv7-oAQfKa1GawMIlRJU6nVbvyqN3WSQPUvVY/s1600-h/Cabin+in+the+woods+winter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAK2JuVwShpiuz7MqHoKtr9cElNZddRnxcfIkxeF0OseaGK9CaB-oWRC44yWvHJ9wPf0Oih7TjyynN_QfFMxjz9pXIJsi9EBoAv7-oAQfKa1GawMIlRJU6nVbvyqN3WSQPUvVY/s400/Cabin+in+the+woods+winter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352848436869278738" /></a><br />Ever feel the need to get away and just figure stuff out? I've got a lot going on in my head these days. Things are stirring up in there like a pot of soup that's just about to boil over. Things like issues with my brother, an ailing uncle in another country, issues with friends, how I deal with people, letting people influence my decisions, and how the hell I'm going to sell my house. I need one of those retreats that writers take out in the mountains in a desolate cabin. Let's just hope I don't crash my car and find myself at Cathy Bates' house. Yikes!abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-35371759724095048002009-06-25T16:17:00.000-07:002009-06-25T16:34:08.407-07:00Venting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4r6s4-MjMy00Xm3bt84qmMXKI6ESoFSmSj4MhLSArGYaP7NFqBCvtfymzQ01zEltsppMn1MJs4mxTUI629jqdPGhAtxZyvB5MLLDRAZ1qBV_7YsFnqzotIHfjPL0uzxIVCmu/s1600-h/1978.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4r6s4-MjMy00Xm3bt84qmMXKI6ESoFSmSj4MhLSArGYaP7NFqBCvtfymzQ01zEltsppMn1MJs4mxTUI629jqdPGhAtxZyvB5MLLDRAZ1qBV_7YsFnqzotIHfjPL0uzxIVCmu/s400/1978.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351408560344598642" /></a> Yesterday was my brother's birthday. I haven't seen him in 2 years. The last time we talked was the day after my birthday in 2008. I called him. He didn't seem to notice that he forgot my birthday the day before.<br /><br />During his early 20s he made a lot of poor choices, and as a result, didn't have the best relationship with the parental units. I was always the in-between person who attempted to bridge the gap. My place in the family was the one who attempted to bring them together. This went on for years.<br /><br />After I moved out of my parents' house he got married. He came to visit me once. From 1995 to, well, now, he has been to one of the 8 homes I have lived in. There were times when I lived in San Diego when I found out that he and his wife spent the weekend just 5 miles from me and never called. Basically he just didn't seem to make the effort anymore. But, since my job was to bridge the gap between him and my parents, I never said anything. I don't really know what happened.<br /><br />Now, they are in the midst of coming out of a family feud with his wife's parents. Her dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness, which brought them out of the feud and got them to talk again. But, for some reason, now he makes no effort to talk to my parents. It's been so bad that they finally called him out on it. On his voicemail. As a result, there are no calls on Father's Day or Mother's Day or anybody's birthday.<br /><br />Until about 3 months ago, I still had the will to fight for this. I saw what it did to my mom, how my dad secretly suffered inside through a situation he didn't fully understand. None of us really fully know why he's doing this. He's been called out on it a few years ago and completely acted like there was nothing wrong. He did the same when I talked to him last December.<br /><br />Now, I am about to give up. I don't have it in me to fight anymore. I've been fighting since 1991. I'm done.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-64689608353824823752009-06-22T09:46:00.000-07:002009-06-22T10:10:24.113-07:00Camping<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWw7JafL7gaOivYPnNUVsNGhNSEPvgand_rlocsojxr4gXRK0B6iIdr61zjtjvOUBXQgVWR6_czrNyn9FGgRdxt5uwEroCVmW-ZY_fHbeZco50WYRIRH7kZDKAPqw49Hh6lKBf/s1600-h/WilliePassedOut.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWw7JafL7gaOivYPnNUVsNGhNSEPvgand_rlocsojxr4gXRK0B6iIdr61zjtjvOUBXQgVWR6_czrNyn9FGgRdxt5uwEroCVmW-ZY_fHbeZco50WYRIRH7kZDKAPqw49Hh6lKBf/s400/WilliePassedOut.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350200060978329122" /></a><br />This past weekend I went camping for 4 days. I have decided that I am too old/spoiled to sleep in a tent. I found myself envying the people in their campers who were not getting rained on in the middle of the night because they had to go to the bathroom. I also found myself peeking into camper windows in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their TV. But, there were some great parts to it as well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />The Good</span><br /><br />1. Camping breakfast - Nothing tastes/smells better.<br />2. Warm sleeping bag.<br />3. Properly functioning air mattress.<br />4. Round the fire drunken conversations with friends.<br />5. Camping dinner.<br />6. Campsites with nearby hot showers.<br />7. Campsites with decent bathrooms.<br />8. Walking to the beach everyday.<br />9. Watching your dog run freely on the beach.<br />10. Taking pictures of your dog passed out after a day of running on the beach.<br />11. 3 hour nap after returning home.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />The Bad</span><br /><br />1. Rain<br />2. Realizing that it's pouring outside while in a warm sleeping bag having to pee so bad it hurts.<br />3. Going out in the pouring rain to go to the bathroom.<br />4. Getting lost on the way back from the bathroom in the pouring rain.<br />5. Clothes that never really dry out.<br />6. Sand everywhere.<br />7. Dog almost getting eaten by a rottweiler.<br />8. Setting up a tent in the rain/dark.<br /><br />All in all I had a great time. But I may have to start looking into getting a small camper.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-87319801419128262492009-06-14T21:50:00.000-07:002009-06-14T21:57:48.101-07:00My New Summer Cocktail<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpiQrx2H9UgTVZ6RQPx3dr-p3H5roI6rNj_xXYddgF93a8fRSgxNzgxjG67Oih-dwf16Y9-Zfb2RZqQ4jz23BA5VQL_qnngWuV_j8fPQUGgKDplIg9QKNgdplCR-rZ-8PEQti/s1600-h/pinkdrink.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpiQrx2H9UgTVZ6RQPx3dr-p3H5roI6rNj_xXYddgF93a8fRSgxNzgxjG67Oih-dwf16Y9-Zfb2RZqQ4jz23BA5VQL_qnngWuV_j8fPQUGgKDplIg9QKNgdplCR-rZ-8PEQti/s400/pinkdrink.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347413517814969506" /></a><br />Today we had friends over to celebrate June birthdays. It was the perfect day to sit outside and enjoy the yard while sipping girly drinks. I picked some fruit from the yard and decided to use them in a lemondrop variation. I just sort of threw things together and it literally turned into my new favorite drink of the summer. I thought I would share in my joy!<br /> <br />Ingredients:<br />Raspberries (picked a handful from the yard)<br />Red currants (picked a handful from the yard)<br />Lemon juice (the bottled kind, unsweetened)<br />2 shots of vodka<br />Ice<br />2 tsp. sugar<br /> <br />Take the rasberries, currant, ice and sugar and muddle together in a glass or cocktail mixer.<br />Add the vodka and lemon juice and shake.<br />Serve in a sugar-rimmed glass. I used a small strainer over the glass to catch the seeds, there were quite a few.<br /> <br />I'm already dreaming about the next one!abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-77387883177160964042009-06-01T08:53:00.000-07:002009-06-01T10:32:27.505-07:00I Heart Target!This weekend I made the usual Saturday trip to Target. I always "need" something. As I perused the aisles I found myself at a dead stop in the garden/outdoor entertaining section. I felt a sudden inspiration to clean up the back deck and get it ready for outdoor get-togethers. So I got these lime green seat cushions for our rocking chairs and deck benches. They're super convenient, too! Each one has a handle and velcro, so moving them is easy.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFzzdXKuoz_Y89mPrB2Vx2L_g2WwDplLTW3YoKYFECu3yYiZwK4EWq3vZhjotEzx8qbYZ5LTwWt0li2scD7SwgjynXR3A63mR-XXXAosFPsVARv8LVeWaJliaSbd7oLoaJLQp/s1600-h/P1030928.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFzzdXKuoz_Y89mPrB2Vx2L_g2WwDplLTW3YoKYFECu3yYiZwK4EWq3vZhjotEzx8qbYZ5LTwWt0li2scD7SwgjynXR3A63mR-XXXAosFPsVARv8LVeWaJliaSbd7oLoaJLQp/s400/P1030928.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342412587659652562" /></a><br /><br /><br />And these cute lanterns for the grapevine behind the table:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4Gz5RwD-d1SSK6suuG_RFrz0lshQ-uFl4R2P7of6DnBFIL14L4XyDbZZnw5Bxd6Fb0isMVojlVVx1ZYSi2TfHG8e0xmxlDATr6Mi-r9JE4dVqz4rqHFxJZWCx0odznbyNNi5/s1600-h/Lanter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 244px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4Gz5RwD-d1SSK6suuG_RFrz0lshQ-uFl4R2P7of6DnBFIL14L4XyDbZZnw5Bxd6Fb0isMVojlVVx1ZYSi2TfHG8e0xmxlDATr6Mi-r9JE4dVqz4rqHFxJZWCx0odznbyNNi5/s400/Lanter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342390923310442642" /></a><br /><br />And some other not as fun things like a sprayer to wash everything down with, and citronella candles, which will hopefully keep the mosquitoes from eating B this summer. It's all coming together nicely with the furniture I got last year.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOvXs6m4zfD9IgrajxMdYFaWGHjojHnpkV8fiiK9ZreYNlUg6ghanDKg8AibrXvKhlnxmNnQgov7c_T9eESODL3CYvA02zguWiosmncHcZmTW6tHPx7V2YHTncyiRErCaI4Yk/s1600-h/P1030930.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOvXs6m4zfD9IgrajxMdYFaWGHjojHnpkV8fiiK9ZreYNlUg6ghanDKg8AibrXvKhlnxmNnQgov7c_T9eESODL3CYvA02zguWiosmncHcZmTW6tHPx7V2YHTncyiRErCaI4Yk/s400/P1030930.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342412779212122578" /></a><br /><br />I look forward to many get-togethers in the yard this summer (I already have 4 planned). But mostly, I look forward to relaxing here.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6Da8z53RaX8TU-89Z9lhPdIUvS5ePio8sB_LhBhRguVRp67f22P03RfmSJrgHDweiqzjcrsFn5uFkRjhuWg5m_0q_2Ff_12rtEUhxe75QGmKk1DwDoEWKr0Wu17yUn74HVqJ/s1600-h/P1020773.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6Da8z53RaX8TU-89Z9lhPdIUvS5ePio8sB_LhBhRguVRp67f22P03RfmSJrgHDweiqzjcrsFn5uFkRjhuWg5m_0q_2Ff_12rtEUhxe75QGmKk1DwDoEWKr0Wu17yUn74HVqJ/s400/P1020773.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342413124334227378" /></a>abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-54042418615935166812009-05-28T14:05:00.000-07:002009-05-28T14:13:55.046-07:00A 2nd Time AroundI did something today that I am so happy about. I decided to go back to school for a 2nd degree! Am I crazy? I figured it would come in handy some day. And just like that I hopped online and submitted my application and requested all my transcripts. B thinks this will lead me to become a perpetual student and I'll eventually wind up getting a PhD. Hey, anything is possible.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-32828300664908823722009-05-27T14:10:00.000-07:002009-05-27T14:10:14.401-07:00Don't Judge a Book by Its CoverLesson learned recently:<br /><br />Never, ever, ever assume you have somebody figured out. <br /><br />I once thought that Group A of supposed friends had no problems, took the predictable paths in life, were "normal" and therefore exactly where I wanted to be. Whereas Group B had way too many issues, did not follow "the path" and were not the type of people I wanted to be around. <br /><br />Turns out, it was the exact opposite. <br /><br />Group A turned out to be boring and very judgmental of Group B-types. Group B turned out to be the most genuine, welcoming and interesting group of people I have come across in years. <br /><br />Takeaway for today: Don't judge people with issues. They have the BEST stories.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-84111963912795962062009-05-13T10:48:00.000-07:002009-05-13T11:13:43.310-07:00Where Da Hood At!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimB9OLGURLUeStNnPYAy9VZDNiqhgnDf5w5QvW6loHCSi6M4r1N1Iqa3Fp6aYG7satC8aIprY7IuSboKpq-HY1OPtcFUmE2ykogEklaieNSz0AirEXvj42hyphenhyphenSJtnUL5KTQeQts/s1600-h/dreamhouse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimB9OLGURLUeStNnPYAy9VZDNiqhgnDf5w5QvW6loHCSi6M4r1N1Iqa3Fp6aYG7satC8aIprY7IuSboKpq-HY1OPtcFUmE2ykogEklaieNSz0AirEXvj42hyphenhyphenSJtnUL5KTQeQts/s400/dreamhouse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335372658153886162" /></a><br />I love my neighborhood for the following reasons:<br /><br />1. If I were afraid to leave my neighborhood for any reason, I would be just fine (at least physically fine, mentally I would be crazy if I were afraid to leave my neighborhood). There are banks, doctors, a dentist, grocery stores, shopping, 2 Starbucks and restaurants all within blocks.<br /><br />2. If I suddenly lost the ability to use my arms and could not drive, that's ok! All of the above-mentioned amenities are conveniently located within walking distance.<br /><br />3. I have way cool neighbors and annual block parties.<br /><br />4. Today is the opening day of our local farmer's market!<br /><br />PS<br />The picture above is not of my house, but rather of my dream house. It was on the market last year for over $1 million. Just a smidge over my budget.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-40376396971385847862009-05-11T13:47:00.000-07:002009-05-12T12:35:16.161-07:00I Need a Vacation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcsgq4_OORcmliz3Hy6iC1KNtvdQ2mrQkytZ_b1PDm1uCBvXFS8F207vyWW966Tj1SJhhvckN5Yp35XVmr5awdGOV3SqbhiPceJ-fpADzH9I712RrR3cqV8_ga4gvLMgoq7Rl/s1600-h/P1010775.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcsgq4_OORcmliz3Hy6iC1KNtvdQ2mrQkytZ_b1PDm1uCBvXFS8F207vyWW966Tj1SJhhvckN5Yp35XVmr5awdGOV3SqbhiPceJ-fpADzH9I712RrR3cqV8_ga4gvLMgoq7Rl/s400/P1010775.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334679115466583410" /></a><br />Usually I get a vacation itch when I am having a bad day at work or feeling overwhelmed. Lately I have just been itching to take time off. I have taken a few days off here and there to go camping & stuff, but nothing close to a real vacation. One that includes a plane ticket, a hotel reservation and actual packing for a different climate. Our last vacation was in July of 2007 when we went to Kauai for our 7th anniversary. 2 years ago! 2 years ago the following items were news/current:<br /><br />1. Instead of swine flu we were all talking about foot & mouth disease.<br />2. The writer's strike was ruining our TV viewing schedules.<br />3. Mascara queen Tammy Faye Messner died.<br />4. The "it" accessory to have at the bar was the DUI ankle bracelet. Lindsay wore it so well while passed out in her car.<br /><br />It's time, I gotta plan something, it's been too long. Any suggestions on where to go?abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-50671040206080455972009-05-06T14:07:00.000-07:002009-05-06T14:35:08.770-07:00Kids are DumbBack in high school I was the girl whose main goal in life was to be accepted by others. I once broke up with a boy because my "best friend" told me that he wasn't cool enough. All in the name of being accepted. <br /><br />Today I was on Facebook (OK maybe I'm on FB everyday) and got a "people you might know" recommendation for a girl I went to high school with. Looking at her picture, a wave of regret ran through my body as I started remembering how ignorant I really was when it came to people back in high school.<br /><br />We'll call her Christine. Christine was the perfect girl. She was gorgeous. She had great hair. She played every sport that our tiny all-girls school offered. She was tall. She always wore the best clothes. Her GPA was above 4.0. She was the nicest person on Earth. All the things that make life important in high school, right? Well I wouldn't know it because my perception of Christine was completely skewed. <br /><br />I assumed that since she was all of these things and I wasn't (or at least thought that I wasn't) I assumed that she didn't like me and wanted nothing to do with me. I made this assumption during the first month of freshman year even though we had never spoken a word to eachother outside of "Hi" and "Thanks". <br /><br />High school life went by and Christine and I never spoke, for 4 years. Our class had 50 people, so eventually you pretty much knew everybody. I knew nothing about Christine because I was so intimidated and never made the effort to get past it. <br /><br />During senior year we went on a retreat to Big Bear (a Southern CA mountain community). One of our teachers suggested a group game/exercise. Each person would have a bag or box with their name on it sitting along the wall in the room. Then everybody would write a nice note to whomever they wanted, letting them know what they have learned from that person during the last 4 years, and place that note in the person's box. I got the usual notes from my friends, some acquaintances, some people that I barely talked to. "What a great 4 years"..."Let's keep in touch"..."Remember that summer in Newport Beach?" All the same stuff I would later see in my yearbook.<br /><br />Then I saw it, a note from Christine. It simply read, "Hi. I know that we never talk, and I'm not really sure why. I think that you are a very nice person. Did I do something to offend you?"<br /><br />My heart sank. I looked at her, she was watching me read it. I didn't know how to react. I felt like such an idiot. I went up to her, still intimidated, and said, "Thank you for this. Us not talking was me be being totally stupid. It has nothing to do with you. I'm really sorry." And that was it. She said nothing more, I said nothing more, a few days later we graduated and went our separate ways.<br /><br />Looking back now I wish I could go back and be myself, have fun and not worry so much about what other people thought. I put so much effort into being what I thought I should be instead of just being myself. And I realized that Christine was the person that I should have been all along. She was just being herself.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-2261674695631211982009-05-04T14:52:00.000-07:002009-05-04T15:25:46.020-07:00My First Time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWSQNzW3RwaiIaVSVWS5ywJ6FaUX3y2BYtYe-YmlWXJ0byelcHXeSZeVn6xDeklAjjADSQ0D89ZHgaH_uLALygI1eaE9TuuLczUnSh1ehECdm8iLUKyZJqhbZnk381UGsa8VA/s1600-h/RacePeeps.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWSQNzW3RwaiIaVSVWS5ywJ6FaUX3y2BYtYe-YmlWXJ0byelcHXeSZeVn6xDeklAjjADSQ0D89ZHgaH_uLALygI1eaE9TuuLczUnSh1ehECdm8iLUKyZJqhbZnk381UGsa8VA/s400/RacePeeps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332090966170817810" /></a><br />Get your heads out of the gutters, I'm not talking about THAT first time! No...this weekend I participated in another first: my first official 5k. That I paid for. That was sponsored by a corporation. That involved more than just me running in my neighborhood trying not to trip. <br /><br />Yes, I finally completed an official 5k. I have been running for a few months now, leading up to a race that I was supposed to run in early March. But as running goes sometimes, I had bad shin splints that I was told would turn into a fracture if I didn't stop immediately. Friggin great. <br /><br />So after recovering, I slowly trained and got myself back into form. And by form I mean just barely being able to run 5k, which unfortunately does not translate into physical form as one would hope. <br /><br />Just a few minutes after beginning Saturday's race I quickly realized that the first half of the run (1.5 miles) would be TOTALLY UPHILL. That was a killer. Luckily, for all you brainiacs that have already figured it out, the last half of the race was completely downhill. Which was glorious. <br /><br />A few observations from a running virgin's perspective:<br /><br />1. DO NOT HAVE YOUR PICTURE TAKEN WHILE RUNNING. There is nothing flattering about bouncy parts and the look of pain written all over your bright red face. <br /><br />2. People are freaky! There was this one woman in front of me who ran on her tippy toes for the entire 3.1 miles! Did she not see the other 381 people around her who were not on their tippy toes?<br /><br />3. The race was a Cinco de Mayo thing, and tacos and beer were served after crossing the finish line. After running over 3 miles at 9am the last thing I wanted to see/smell was a big ass tub of ground beef. <br /><br />4. Free Vitamin Water is a godsend.<br /><br />5. My official time was 36:26. Not bad! Almost 100 people were slower than me!!!! <br /><br />6. I am crazy enough to do this again. The act is painful, but the afterglow is the shit.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-14566251948303964652009-05-01T08:14:00.001-07:002009-05-01T09:20:22.365-07:00MemememememeSo I was tagged (and a little sexually harassed) by <a href="http://spartacusworeaskirt.blogspot.com/">Predo</a> to create a list of 7 random things about me. I'm supposed to tag 7 people but I can't think of anybody that hasn't already been tagged. So, here we go:<br /><br />1. This usually tops my lists. I am foreign. I was born in Poland and was a political refugee due to the fact that my Dad had political ties to people that communist Russia/USSR did not like. Basically, he was an anti-communist and protested against the communist government. He was black listed, we left on "vacation" and never came back. I was 6.<br /><br />2. I have known my husband since I was 18. When I was 17 I met a lovely boy named Ryan who eventually broke my little black heart. After slutting around for a year, I attended a New Year's party on the rose parade route in Pasadena in 1993 where I met B, Ryan's best friend. It was love at first make-out session. We've been married for almost 9 years.<br /><br />3. I'm borderline OCD when it comes to cleaning up fish and chicken juices. My husband likes to fish, and he comes home with gigantic fish which he then guts and fillets in our kitchen. He's pretty good about cleaning up after himself, but I always follow up with anti-bacterial cleaners. I also take all of the kitchen towels and replace them, just in case he touched one of them with his fishy hands. <br /><br />4. I am obsessed with all things tiny/freakish. You know those shows on TLC like "World's Smallest Girl" and "My unborn twin"? I LOVE that shit. If freak shows weren't so inhumane/politically incorrect, I would totally run one for a living. And it would be awesome.<br /><br />5. Until 6 months ago I was a community blogger for my hood on OregonLive.com. It was a volunteer thing, but it was really fun to be the in-the-know chick on all things Sellwood. 6 months ago I got a really nasty and personal comment, which typically would drive me to blog even more. But for some reason I completely lost interest in the blog and stopped blogging. I have since been replaced.<br /><br />6. I am guilty of loving really horrible horrible movies. I recite lines on a regular basis from the following:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Austin Powers Goldmember:</span> <br />"Over and out you big pile of monkey nuts!" <br />AND <br />"The little one doesn't get it because he is shmall!!!"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Nacho Libre</span>: <br />"Chancho, sometimes, when you are a man, you wear stretchy pants in your room. For fun."<br />AND<br />"Cannot we have something different to eat sometime? I have had diarrhea since the Easters!"<br /><br />7. I love to buy handbags, but can't afford to buy as many as I want to. There is a store in my neighborhood called <a href="http://shoptilde.com/">Tilde</a>, inside of which are many lovelies made by <a href="http://iloveorla.com/bags.html">Orla Kiely</a>. This store is along the route on which I run 4 days a week. When passing by, I have tripped many many times because I find myself turning my head 90 degrees to scan the contents of the store window while running quickly by. There have been a few times when a new arrival has literally grabbed me by the spandex and dragged my sweaty ass in the store. Well not literally, but that's how it feels. It's a wonder I haven't fallen down yet. Knocking on wood, today is a running day.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-72181555519362476792009-04-30T08:41:00.000-07:002009-04-30T08:50:17.624-07:00Marriage TroublesThis morning I was doing the usual ritual before work: drinking my tea while watching the Today show. Matt Lauer was interviewing Ms. California, the plastic blond girl who is now apparently (in her words), "Fighting to protect marriage" by being against gay marriage. To me, this is completely ridiculous. Just then, B came in from the other room and the following conversation took place (please try to read the tremendous amount of sarcasm here):<br /><br />Me: Babe, I feel that our marriage has been compromised.<br />B: I know, ever since they started letting people of the same sex get married, I feel as though you and I have been drifting apart.<br />Me: As if the sanctity that is our marriage is now gone.<br />B: Because people we don't know and probably will never know or even meet are getting married.<br />Me: I'm glad we are on the same page.<br />B: That bitch is crazy, but did you check out her rack???<br /><br />I love that I married a smartass.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-61423802127265583142009-04-27T10:38:00.000-07:002009-04-27T11:10:52.569-07:00Of Boys and DreamsI have this friend, we'll call him J. I've known J since the age of 16. We did the boyfriend/girlfriend thing, we did the winter formal thing, we did the breaking up thing. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for J, it's more of a concern than a secret crush. J has always had troubles with life. He didn't necessarily make the best decisions, he didn't necessarily have the best emotional support from family, he has never had the best of luck. At age 16 we clicked right away, dated for a while, had a mutual adoration. Breaking up was my decision, because at age 16 J's type of problems were an extremely heavy burden on my self-indulgent life. After a bit of anger and avoidance on his part, we re-connected as friends and saw eachother once in a while at social functions. We also have many mutual friends who tell me about his life now. Not much different than back in the high school days. Still making the same decisions, not having the best of luck. The soft spot in my heart remains as strong as always, I tend to worry about J a lot.<br /><br />Last night I had a dream about J. I haven't talked to anybody about him in a few months, nothing jogged my memory of him in the last few months. It was just a very random dream. One in which J did not fare well in the end. I write this, just in case that by saying this out loud, the bad omen will break and the dream will just be a random nothing. I feel the need to cover my bases on this one.abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-59094315486453618792009-04-13T14:49:00.000-07:002009-04-13T14:59:37.290-07:00SpringI love spring because I always find new and interesting things in the garden. This guy pops up and only lasts for about a week, and catching him in full bloom is like spotting Waldo (or Britney Spears actually wearing underwear).<br /> <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTooBIOqGfNFCdqgE79PBx-bAlI1ypGvdjNtoeWQ3w5TW09Jgc6ge3Q50lqs94Cm99Y9MX3QrWT8rNA-dpnjnqktnuZ8fqqcoyTubRYDt8rJNghmTGzI1UcZBBEidRAkrnm10S/s1600-h/P1030707.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTooBIOqGfNFCdqgE79PBx-bAlI1ypGvdjNtoeWQ3w5TW09Jgc6ge3Q50lqs94Cm99Y9MX3QrWT8rNA-dpnjnqktnuZ8fqqcoyTubRYDt8rJNghmTGzI1UcZBBEidRAkrnm10S/s400/P1030707.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Spring for the dogs means going outside and refusing to go back in. Sophie was loving the sun the other day and decided to lay in the dirt for a while, occasionally sniffing the air and growling at passersby.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoegm6CHQLzlpX4VwyN0i7FlitbFHD5UJ79wOI0t85eiDuxzdz2BsnrEQ77KrTQf4dQzQCRGewKzmo2eXmIuEmRXoKTvZrRSROz-XshVJf0-kPpMoAPoEGbXfUZKA6wJmm68uC/s1600-h/P1030725.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoegm6CHQLzlpX4VwyN0i7FlitbFHD5UJ79wOI0t85eiDuxzdz2BsnrEQ77KrTQf4dQzQCRGewKzmo2eXmIuEmRXoKTvZrRSROz-XshVJf0-kPpMoAPoEGbXfUZKA6wJmm68uC/s400/P1030725.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Willie doesn't care if it's Spring, Summer, Winter or Fall. Where there's a blanket, there's a nap.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtPN64x17MCjkgvXrfzvsnR7p0iEgxhPI2jTQEY2eJd_4e0OcfcRW4Nf9YFIPQOtf6Z_aqAfIiV1aPQjjSL-NIQg8tPHR1L2EvFjfDRglYf1ymwLPHHMlkXXdB28_kNCPaxkC/s1600-h/P1030726.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtPN64x17MCjkgvXrfzvsnR7p0iEgxhPI2jTQEY2eJd_4e0OcfcRW4Nf9YFIPQOtf6Z_aqAfIiV1aPQjjSL-NIQg8tPHR1L2EvFjfDRglYf1ymwLPHHMlkXXdB28_kNCPaxkC/s400/P1030726.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-86041979523287502442009-04-10T14:39:00.000-07:002009-04-10T15:01:46.105-07:00Time for Change<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCl6c-FUWoQhtzfnUda4UYIDK9g00el4FQEJPurgLsiznTS9_Pcnru-kq_oEinAebnJMweVl5KzqnxikXya6ZVKneLsc1k4wy4F2C_4gW7CHKGmoIobEzqEFVz2ebiCUIhtW9h/s1600-h/Pavers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCl6c-FUWoQhtzfnUda4UYIDK9g00el4FQEJPurgLsiznTS9_Pcnru-kq_oEinAebnJMweVl5KzqnxikXya6ZVKneLsc1k4wy4F2C_4gW7CHKGmoIobEzqEFVz2ebiCUIhtW9h/s400/Pavers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323181538077994034" /></a>We have a lovely 1922 home that was almost completely re-done right before we moved in. A while ago we completed a paving project in our yard, which I am so happy with. And I believe that Willie approves too, as seen in this pic. We even bought some kick-ass patio furniture, which has been lovely on warm evenings. Now, I've been thinking about making some changes to the house. My dream list consists of:<br /><br />Granite counters in the kitchen and bathroom<br />Adding on a porch<br />Adding a driveway<br />Cosmetic changes to the fireplace<br />New ceiling fan in the office<br />Refinishing the old fir floors<br />New appliances<br /><br />When I first compiled this list I got overwhelmed and decided that it would just be easier to sell the house and buy one with all these things. But then B said the following, "But we're so safe here. This is the best neighborhood, we have awesome neighbors and who knows what kind of problems a different house will have. At least here we know what we're in for."<br /><br />He could not be more right. So the decision was made to stay put, possibly refinance, and get other people to do the work. I'm liking this idea. I may not be able to get all of the things from my list, but a few would be awesome, especially the front porch. <br /><br />So we're going to the local eatery tonight, whipping out a notebook and making a wish list of improvements. From there we will whittle it down to things that are realistic/affordable. And once all the workers show up, SSG and Predo are invited for lemon drops and kicking it on the deck to watch the workers in action. <br /><br />Get ready for some changes, little house! Hopefully these guys will be a little more excited!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivy3gYh_YBggk11jC4U75YQnWxRPV6X7Lfw9nVIy7bKTnU5Lc3EDs039iynX-GsLQ1fseT20KouFvKKTW4zQ1xRjwWW-NSl-hraSLY2KzBvidaAnYVi12CcsN1H0pXiBCz7UEy/s1600-h/Sleepy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivy3gYh_YBggk11jC4U75YQnWxRPV6X7Lfw9nVIy7bKTnU5Lc3EDs039iynX-GsLQ1fseT20KouFvKKTW4zQ1xRjwWW-NSl-hraSLY2KzBvidaAnYVi12CcsN1H0pXiBCz7UEy/s400/Sleepy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323184844222228354" /></a>abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-3528185658566517772009-04-05T12:50:00.000-07:002009-04-05T13:21:58.654-07:00This Post is Rated PG-13<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyf1c6UmEedZ-J6WhgTlbIeyWN_3x9oWuW5x7fm9C9y7dDYMHxRI_PJGJjTqfqV2bvXy1p9TUw4QYnfusPTiMO8mR9l_rb5XU79UNIMpsyrB_0NLVrqY-wTLG6gH8eSMNrcLb/s1600-h/pg13rating.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 83px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyf1c6UmEedZ-J6WhgTlbIeyWN_3x9oWuW5x7fm9C9y7dDYMHxRI_PJGJjTqfqV2bvXy1p9TUw4QYnfusPTiMO8mR9l_rb5XU79UNIMpsyrB_0NLVrqY-wTLG6gH8eSMNrcLb/s320/pg13rating.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321303814007592514" /></a><br />I've been out of town on business all of last week. I went to see a very nice and fun client in Rhode Island. I've never been to RI and liked it very much. There was one incident that occured that I have been told that I MUST blog about, so here you go. <br /><br />***Warning: If you are extremely sensitive to adult topics, please stop reading here. All others, have I got your attention yet?***<br /><br />On my last night in RI I had just wrapped up 2 consecutive days of all-day meetings. I was exhausted, had a headache and was looking forward to sleeping in before the long journey home. So I grabbed some sushi, changed into my pj's and proceeded to watch Sex and the City. I fell asleep in the middle of the episode where Carrie first gets together with Aidan. <br /><br />At approximately 3am, I was startled awake by the sound of somebody trying to open my hotel room door. They were sliding the card key in and out, and turning the doorknob. In the background, I could hear what sounded like three extremely drunk girls attempting to get the door open. After a few minutes one made the incredible discovery, "This is 204, we're in 202!!!" At this point they proceed to roll on the floor and laugh directly outside my door for 5 minutes.<br /><br />After the incredible discovery was made, they went into their room and immediately turned on porn. It was so loud I could pretty much hear every word that was said/moaned. So I began to bang on the wall. This was only met with laughter from my 3 female neighbors. So I called the front desk, telling the lady that the people next door were watching TV extremely loud. She assured me that they would be sending somebody right up. It actually took 15 minutes.<br /><br />During this time, the porn was turned off. And was replaced by the real thing. The incredibly loud screaming was slightly less loud than the bangining of the headboard and the squeaking of the bed. I was sure at this point that everybody in the 5 story building and surrounding counties was awake. Being completely awake, I decided to text my hubbie, who I was sure would still be awake, since it was midnight PST.<br /><br />Me: OMG I am not even kidding. It's 3am & there's a lesbian 3-way going on next door.<br />Him: Dude that is so hot!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />Not much help in the sympathy department there.<br /><br />Finally I heard the elevator ding, help had arrived. Peeking out the peep hole I noticed that the help sent from the front desk was a very young bellboy. 17 years old at the very most. Poor guy, he was in for quite a surprise. He proceeded to knock on the door, but obviously my neighbords were too busy to answer. <br /><br />I decided to get out of bed and pop my head out the door, just to offer the poor bellboy my help. I wasn't able to say a word before he offered the following: "Maam, um I don't think that's a TV." This made me LOL, in fact it still does. Nothing could be done, nature had to take it's course. And it did, over and over again for about an hour. <br /><br />When I finally woke up the next morning, I decided that they needed a rude awakening themselves. So I called their room, let the phone ring twice and hung up. 10 times in a row. Happy hangover ladies!abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8724950.post-50967811821466215802009-03-24T17:16:00.000-07:002009-03-24T17:30:42.629-07:00Happy Thing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ31S2ZNFFTDnRLERWbwHFMI5Mw7E0ICHOWn2p4Ivd1QOAxWIpdtZ621Xy43b4TRtPqSJ4zs3zRgRk8bHd4_R8QMlC0ZrBfkmk081GS9Jm-Yeq2iGk5BB-sygXGxlj-Zf88r9b/s1600-h/townhome.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ31S2ZNFFTDnRLERWbwHFMI5Mw7E0ICHOWn2p4Ivd1QOAxWIpdtZ621Xy43b4TRtPqSJ4zs3zRgRk8bHd4_R8QMlC0ZrBfkmk081GS9Jm-Yeq2iGk5BB-sygXGxlj-Zf88r9b/s320/townhome.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316915045789033330" /></a><br />So for a while now my parents have been talking about moving up to my neck of the woods from their neck of the woods, which is about a thousand miles away (1,004 to be exact). Last weekend they finally did it, temporarily living in an apartment. It's kind of weird to have them come over for dinner and then leave. I still feel like I have to entertain them, I'm not used to the going home part. Typically they would be visiting for the weekend, but now they live 20 miles away. <br /><br />Well, the happy thing for today is that they just found out that the offer on their dream townhouse was accepted. You should have seen my mom when she saw this place 3 weeks ago. She was like a little kid, "I want it, it's so beautiful!" My dad, the practical one, was thinking about the money. Well, the market being what it is, worked in their favor tremendously. We went to look at the place one more time over this past weekend and found out that the price was reduced tremendously. It's one of the last townhomes in a new neighborhood, so the builder wanted to get out of town. So their offer was accepted this afternoon and my mom could not be happier. I too am happy that they will be in a place they love and are comfortable in. I am also happy that my dogs will have a yard to pee in when staying with their grandparents!abhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03445872226770574848noreply@blogger.com2