Mind-numbing drive

I realized a few things about myself today, during my mind-numbing commute home.

1) I see dead people. Well, not really. But I see weird-shaped containers/shady objects and instantly wonder if there's a body inside. For example, while driving in the fast lane I notice a strange bump in the blacktop of the center median emergency lane. It's a good sized bump with no grade to it, just flat road and then a long, round bump about the size of a speed bump. I instantly think "whoa, the road crew buried a body under the pavement." Another example, on one of our surface streets near the house the landscapers had finished the quarterly tree-pruning and black hefty bags lined the street for two weeks. I kept thinking about body parts rotting away inside. And another example, one evening while driving through a shopping center parking lot I see a man open a trunk and shove something inside. "Oh my God, he just put a body in the trunk." Neil says "no, I'm pretty sure there was already a person in there."

2) I twist my hair. A lot. It's almost incessant when I'm driving a car. Right hand on the steering wheel, left hand propped up on the side door twiddling a strip of hair. I was in heaven today after noticing the girl I was driving behind was doing exactly the same thing. We were soul sisters and my heart sank a little when I exited and she continued South. I'm always afraid a CHP officer will see my hand so close to my ear and pull me over for using a cell phone. That will be a fun one to dispute; "You see officer, I have this nervous tic that requires me to twist my hair in any number of fashions while driving ... here, let me demonstrate it for you." And today I was really enjoying my hair twiddling. It had the perfect consistency of oil to product and it felt nice between my fingers. It actually made the ride home seem shorter, which I welcome on a Friday. Yes, I am a complete weirdo.

3) I want a coat made out of my basset hound's ears. Who wouldn't? They're made of velvet, in the purest form.
[Insert Cruella laugh here.]

The neighbor's dogs

I'm not going to lie. I dislike my neighbor's dogs. Almost as much as I dislike my neighbor. This is the knot in the fence the two rottweilers use to sniff us out before wreaking havoc on our pleasant backyard experiences.



Oh ... aww ... hey there ... you butt head.



I dare you to leave that nose there longer. I will think of something to stick up it.



And this is why you won't catch us gardening during a weeknight in our backyard. This is the reason why my quiet, well-behaved dogs can't enjoy space in their own yard. Because after enough jumps and lunges at the fence, these rottweilers broke into our yard and went after Lola. Nothing has raised my blood pressure more than that moment and just the sight of these dogs now makes me sick.



But I know I shouldn't blame the dogs. I should blame our crappy neighbor, whose laziness and careless habits created these beasts that disturb our sleepy suburbia.

He's a terrible dog owner. I bet he's an even worse father.

Milk, meat and me ... forever

Our office vegan brought in bagels and non-dairy cream cheese today (derived of soy and tofu). I, not being one to let free food go unaccounted for, was the first one to help myself to the breakfast. As soon as I bit into my bagel, which of course had a healthy helping of the spread, the following conversation went down:

Me: [chewing] "Mmm, good."

Vegan: "That's what healthy tastes like."

Me: "How do you mean?"

Vegan: "Because it's non-dairy. You can't taste a difference can you?"

Me: "well no, but I don't have anything against dairy. My husband and I drink about 4 gallons of milk a week."

Vegan: "Milk is so bad for you."

Me: "Well, I like the calcium."

Vegan: "You should know milk actually leeches calcium from your bones."

Me: "So why do I have surplus calcium deposits growing on my scalp and the roof of my mouth?"

Vegan walks off. Obviously ignoring anything that goes against her wonky belief system.

..........................................................................................

But this woman doesn't stop at being vegan. She also tells whomever will listen that she makes major business decisions based on night visions God gives her, that aliens have to exist because there have been so many sightings, and also that President Obama and black people are going to ruin America. So you can instantly see the caliber of person I'm dealing with in my fight to defend meat and dairy. Any verbal effort on my part would fall on *deaf ears. You can't argue with crazy.

*Deaf refers to both closed-mindedness and incredibly old age.

I invented the post-it.

This weekend was a busy one and since it's a totally separate topic I felt details of Neil's 10-year High School reunion deserved an individual post.
My husband and I attended his 10-year reunion shortly after my great aunt's wake. It was an interesting change of gear. But we were able to meet up with some old friends (our two best men in our wedding) and carpool with them to the event. Which I was grateful for. I do better in groups of people I'm comfortable with and having my cozy security blanket of friends with me allowed me to relax.
The reunion was held in a huge room at the Coconut Grove on the Santa Cruz boardwalk. It was a beautiful sun room that allowed us to watch the sunset as the evening progressed. As much as I enjoyed that feature, the room was too big for the small attendance of people and we ended up paying way too much for a reunion that didn't give much back. We were promised drink tickets with the $75 a person price but once we got there learned it was a cash bar only. Lame. Luckily, we brought along a flask. Hopefully someone else will be planning the next one.
The people I met were really nice and it was good to finally be able to put a face to the names I've heard for the last 8 years. No one seemed too fat although I was told it's because I didn't know them in high school. One girl actually "grew up" to be a legit porn star. That's special. She sure liked to show it off too, although I felt some satisfaction upon seeing the cellulite on the back of her legs/glutes (yes, her skirt was that short.)
I think what surprised us the most was how few people had kids. We were certain we'd be in the minority since it seems parenthood is something everyone jumps into. But even after 10 years, there were only a small handful of couples with kids. One of Neil's friends with kids seemed really disappointed and missed her career. One more reason why I'm afraid to take that leap.
We called it a night early and had some coffee with our friends we carpooled with and another couple who have mutual friends with us in Sacramento. They were in their college band together in Fresno. The world is just too small sometimes.
It was a fun night, but when all is said and done ... 10 years doesn't make a big enough difference in people. Or so I'm told.

Ashes to ocean ... or not

We experienced yet another family adventure this weekend, rivaling those of the Griswold family. It all goes back to January, when my great aunt, Terry, passed away. Since then we've been cleaning out her things and waiting for a chance to get the whole family together to celebrate her life.

June 12th was the date finally set. The plan was to get the family together and since Terry was cremated we would gently spread her ashes in the Pacific Ocean. She lived in Pacific Grove/Monterey, practically on the beach; it was where she called home. After our "spreading" we had a lovely gathering planned with Terry's best friends and family in her favorite restaurant. All in all, the recipe for a beautiful day.



Which takes us to Saturday. The family gathered and enjoyed some lunch together before finding a discrete location for the "ceremony." It was a warm, sunny day in Pacific Grove which really brings the crowds down to the coastline. The leader of the expedition, one of Terry's friends, took us to a "deserted cove." Which was actually fairly busy.

Since ash spreading without a permit is illegal, we huddled together in a group so onlookers couldn't see what we were doing. The idea was to get the box of ashes open so each person could take a small amount in a cup and spread them over the water (and over the edge of the rocks where we were standing was a group of scuba divers.) This was getting better by the second.

My dad noticed the box of ashes was screwed shut. After finding a screwdriver he began work on the screws. Meanwhile I'm wondering why Terry was in this wooden box when she was originally placed in a metal one. Grandma said she couldn't remember transferring Terry to this box; she would have remembered unscrewing it open. But this is the box she brought down with her from Alameda (she's had possession of her sister's remains since she was cremated.)

Dad shook the box. No sound. He said "this feels really light to me."

Finally, he gets the box open and we see it's empty. On the back is a sticker with my grandfather's name, who passed away and was sent out to sea three years ago. It was his box. Grandma had brought the wrong one.

And we all said (mostly through tears of laughter) " ..... so .... where the heck is Terry?"



We all got a good laugh and my mom made plans to come back down next month with Grandma to help her spread the ashes then, on Terry's birthday. The rest of the afternoon was spent with a lovely group of people who all shared their fondest memories of Terry. She was quite a woman, and it was quite a wake. Even in death, she's still making us laugh. And we're still not sure where she is.

Debt Diet

It's no secret that I can't stand Oprah and the high horse she reigns supreme on. What makes Oprah even more annoying are her attempts to make herself financially comparable to her audience. I'm sorry Oprah, but it's been a long time since your paycheck-to-paycheck days.

However, she often has important guests on her show. Today kicked off her series called "The Debt Diet." Couldn't have been a more appropriate time to inspire me as Neil and I have been talking repeatedly about getting our bums into fiscal gear.

So I guess I'll be going over our finances tonight and laying it all on the line. Figuring out just how much we have left over to go toward debt and savings. It means we'll be continuing our search for additional work. It means we'll be spending even less than we already do. It means we'll be doing ok once some things are taken care of in a more efficient manner.

We have a little under 3 years to get it all under control and build a nice little nest egg. When my Implanon implant wears out (I'll be 30) we'll begin our journey into family expansion. Even 3 years away, the thought of it freaks me out as I know we'll never have enough money for that leap of faith. But we can always have more than we do now, and that's the ultimate goal. Debt free with a nest egg. And then the next big step in life.

15 going on 28

I've been feeling old lately. I'll be turning 28 this year and for some reason I don't feel like I should be. Mentally I feel so much younger, like I haven't accomplished enough in life to be 28. And I'm not referring to my career because I've never been a woman who dreamed of that success. Call me a traditionalist, but I've always wanted to be a stay-at-home wife; keeping my house as clean as possible, cooking good meals and possibly raising a small family. But these days it's harder and harder to do that, especially while living in California.

But now I get sore after sitting still for a long time and I am noticing my skin doesn't glow like it used to. I've been pretty good to my body. I've never been a big drinker and have avoided all illegal drugs like the plague. I eat well and try to get in exercise like I'm supposed to (although I've been lazy of late). So it's disappointing when I realize I'm having to invest in expensive lotions and products to slow the aging process. What have I done to deserve this? I have nothing to show for my wrinkles and sore body. I still feel 15 inside.

I know. I'm crazy.

How to keep your basset hound thin

Step 1: Pretend Ice is Food:
Let's face it, they don't know the difference.



You may even find that your basset loves ice and refuses to give it up when asked to.



Step 2: Exercise Your Basset Hound
You'd be surprised how quickly these chubs can run when put to the test. In this photo, the basset demonstrates her determination to be first to the food (ice) bowl.



Step 3: Cuddle Your Basset Hound
A properly cuddled basset hound is a happier basset hound, and the extra attention keeps their minds out of the food in the kitchen or the litter boxes in the office.



Step 4: Provide A Proper Bed
Bassets need adequate sleep. Make sure the bed is as big as possible, and the less pillows the better.



By utilizing these four helpful tips, you'll soon be on your way to life with a happy, healthy basset.

A reason, a season or a lifetime

My mom had a fridge magnet that said "friends come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime." Not everyone was meant to stay with us forever. Remembering this always makes it easier for me to close off a relationship, knowing that they've probably already served their purpose in my life. It helped during every move my family made while I was growing up and it helps me now as an adult.

I chose to terminate a friendship. Not on hurtful terms, but just because our lives have taken different paths that have no future of crossing again. And this is a good place to leave it; our two paths running parallel, as opposed to apart. If we see each other around town we can say hi with ease, and respect each others existence. We just won't be hanging out, having dinner, sharing moments. Which is fine and definitely for the best.

As Neil so poignantly put it ... "Sometimes the best way to be a friend is to stop being a friend." Couldn't have put it better myself.

The editing block

A former coworker of mine has a blog. She was an assistant editor and one of the most annoying human beings I've ever had the displeasure of working with. Needless to say, I wasn't sad to see her go. I was, however, grateful to discover her blog. It has served as a source of humor and entertainment for me and other coworkers in the building who had to "do time" with her.

But no matter how much I enjoy reading her misguided and pitiful entries, knowing full well she doesn't have the slightest idea who she is as a person, I still find this story a bit unnerving:

I was sitting in our editor-in-chief's office when our managing editor hands him some papers and says "let's put this in the lineup." It was the latest entry from this ex employee's blog; printed and in the hands of the grand office poobah. At the time I thought it was hysterical. It really was a ridiculous entry. But then I realized what a nightmare it would be for my own blog to be found. I'm sure I would be spared no shame.It's a good thing I have nothing to hide ... but just the same, it's incredibly easy to break someone's spirit.

Guess I'll just have to hope it stays in the shadows.

An empty list

The floor is down. The baseboards are on. The furniture is back in its place and things are clean again. There's nothing to do now. I'm bored and loving every minute of it.

Although the floor updating process took about 2 months from start to finish, I feel like we've dedicated a good two years to the project. We've been so busy and we've spent so much money; I'm incredibly thankful that part is over with.

Now all we have left on the "to do" list is "relax." If I can remember how to do that. I hear it's like riding a bicycle though, you never forget. I should be ok.

Big sigh of relief.

And then there were none

Yesterday was a great day, for many reasons. I got to spend time with my husband and some of our closest friends, and I tried something new. I wasn't sure if I was going to post about this but it turns out I just can't resist. I've never been one to be embarrassed to talk.

The morning started out the same as every Saturday. Coffee, 9am, at Pete's with Debi and Cathy. It's become a ritual now and I love it. After 1-2 hours of gabbing outside in the beautiful California spring weather, we drive a bit down the road to the farmer's market. We make our produce purchases and part ways for the weekend.

But not this weekend.

After the market we headed to Ulta because we had appointments to get makeovers. Debi and I wanted to learn how to do a smok(e)y eye for the few times we go out at night. My girl sucked. I should have known based on her own makeup. Anyway, I ended up taking most of it off as soon as she was done (although not in front of her). Debi's girl did a great job so I'll have to ask Debi to pass on the pointers.

Soon after we were made over, the three musketeers headed to .... dun dun dun ... the European Wax Center. Because I was inspired by my two sexy friends to just suck it up and wax myself. Since they both do it regularly, I was the only one who needed attention and I was nervous beyond belief once we got there.

I'll try to spare you as many gory details as I can. So my name was called and I made my way back into the little room. The lady that would be getting up close and personal with me told me to strip bare from the waist down. I thought she'd leave the room. Nope. So I repeated my mantra over and over in my head "She looks at vaginas all the time. You're just another vagina." I was secretly hoping I never see her out in public. She asked me if I wanted a full bikini (which is all hair gone but the butt strip) or a Brazilian (which is everything gone). I opted for the full bikini for the first time out. I'm not sure I'm ready for the butt strip.

I was shaking. I wasn't nervous about her seeing my parts, I get over that quickly, but worried of what I knew was coming. P-A-I-N. I lay on the table in the "butterfly" position with my hands gripping the top of the head rest behind my head. Then came the wax. It was really warm and I could feel it slide all around. She did one side, then she did the other. I was waiting for her to put the paper on. Silly expectations. Instead of putting the paper on, she started feeling the wax on the first side and then ripped away. I wasn't ready for it and screamed a little. My nerves were on fire. Same thing to the next side. This went on for about 15 minutes. Wax, wait, rip, scream! I asked "Is it a war zone down there?" She laughed.

Apparently the first time is the worst time; your hairs are so coarse and there are so many to rip out. But as it grows back in it supposedly gets finer and fewer. I got a special serum to use to shrink up the pores after showering and a magic lotion that's supposed to slow growth. We'll see. But I've been going commando for the last two days to help prevent in-grown hairs. It's weird, and I don't really recognize myself down there. But come the chance to don my bikini-bottomed swimsuit I'm going to be a very happy woman.

Thanks to my friends for their moral support. :-)

What a Quack

We watched the Marriage Ref last night and there was a couple fighting about their pet ducks' eggs. The husband wanted to eat them but the wife refused to eat an egg that came out of her pets' butts. I would have been all over those eggs in a heart beat. Duck eggs are lower in cholesterol than chicken eggs and are supposedly really good for treating/preventing migraines.

Anyway, our wheels started turning.

After doing some research on the zoning codes of our property it turns out we're in a low-density zone and can therefore have poultry so long as it's contained 40 feet from any property lines.

Cost of a female duckling: $5 - $15 (they can start laying around 4 months). They usually lay eggs every morning. That's a lot of "free" breakfast! It certainly would save us money at the grocery store and would be healthier than eating store bought eggs. We'll just need to create a little duck house under the pine tree in the shade for her to hang out when it's hot.

Ducks love eating slugs and snails. Lord knows we have plenty of those in our yard. We already have a pond with a plastic duck in it ... why not the real thing? One little duck couldn't be any louder than the choir of frogs we hear every night.

Anyway, it's mostly talk at this point. I've still got a lot of research to do on the subject. But who knows, I could have a pet duck sometime in the near future. I've already decided I'm naming her Kevin.

Brazil, anyone?

I've made a big decision. Ok, so maybe it isn't a big decision but it's a very personal one. Yes, that's right, I've decided to get waxed. Down there. All of it. Gone. For the first time.

I'm a little nervous, but I handle pain and discomfort well (of course I do, I'm a woman) so I'm sure I'll be fine. It's more the fear of the unknown, and letting a stranger near my nether regions. The best I can do is pretend she's a doctor and carry on from there.

I'll post an update when it's done. Or maybe I won't.

Sprung

We've had a cooler/wetter spring than normal this year. As a result, our garden is flourishing! The roses are just starting to peak out the flowers out front are fuller and brighter than they've ever been. There's one particular rose in the front yard that's doing really well right now. Last year it was a bare root that had a tough time getting started. Apparently it just needed some time.



I had to bump up the contrast quite a bit when transferring it to black and white, but I love the look of it. Very Georgia O'keefe.