1) Enjoyed a somewhat solitary day yesterday. Slept in.... until 9 a.m.! Did some light cleaning, ran a couple of errands, and made sure to be back by early afternoon - especially when I realized all the other people running errands were rude, loud, and not welcome in my Saturday.
2) Decided it was a shame to let the sun streaming through the windows go to waste, so instead of plopping myself in front of the computer, I picked up a book and read.
3) When the sun went down, I continued to read in the bathtub.
4) When I was tired of reading, I watched Hetty Wainthrop solve a couple of mysteries. It's so much fun seeing Dominic Monaghan in his *way* pre-Lost days.
5) Today I met a friend and we went for a walk along the Truckee.
6) We hit a cafe, had a fancy coffee drink (her), herbal tea (me), and two decadent desserts. Don't worry - we walked it all off on the way home.
7) Made a real dinner for myself tonight: beef brisket. I'm sorry to say it's not as good as the beef brisket I had at the cafe this week, but at least it was edible.
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Sweets for the Sweet
It's so good to be right...
For decades, I've said over and over again, "I don't trust people who don't like sweets." I never found them to be very nice. And while "nice" and "trust" are two different things... mean people cannot be trusted. Right? Can I get an amen?
Anyway, several recent studies have proven that people who like sweets are more agreeable, nicer, and friendlier than those who shun them.
Singles, if you're out on a date and your potential beloved says "I don't like dessert," run out of the restaurant. You won't be sorry.
For decades, I've said over and over again, "I don't trust people who don't like sweets." I never found them to be very nice. And while "nice" and "trust" are two different things... mean people cannot be trusted. Right? Can I get an amen?
Anyway, several recent studies have proven that people who like sweets are more agreeable, nicer, and friendlier than those who shun them.
Singles, if you're out on a date and your potential beloved says "I don't like dessert," run out of the restaurant. You won't be sorry.
Friday Night Notes
Yes, I know this is Saturday, but these are my notes about last night. What happened last night? I went to a Meetup titled "Journal While Exploring Your Journey."
I love the woman who hosted. She is fast becoming more of a friend and less of an acquaintance as time goes on. She's bubbly, energetic, and very friendly.
She thought the New Year would be a good time to start journaling, and wondered if there were any others that might want to as well, hence the meetup. While quite a few signed up for it, only four of us (and the hostess) were actually there.
The hostess had taped an interview Oprah did with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. I have to admit - I didn't read the book. I did see the movie, and those of you who read a much earlier review of it that I wrote KNOW I hated it. The movie seemed so self important to me. Still, I had to admit that this was one woman who made journaling work for her.
So, after a bit of mingling, we sat down to watch the taped interview. However, before the hostess could hit "play," Miss Know It All decided to talk all about her experience with Eat, Pray, Love.
"I'm a writer" she started out by saying. I did everything I could to prevent myself from rolling my eyes. "I have had several email conversations with Elizabeth Gilbert." Well, good for you. Can I have your autograph, please? "The movie glossed over her transformation. She was depressed, had issues, was seeing a therapist, and had been on all kinds of meds."
Well. I'd like to say something sarcastic here - I really would. However, this was good information to know - even if it did come spilling out of Miss Know It All's mouth.
And it just went on and on. Every time the hostess went to hit "play," Miss Know It All just had to throw some more of her inside scoop in. Finally, she took a breather, and the hostess was able to hit the play button before Miss Know It All could vomit out more tedia. (Tedious trivia - my own word, which will soon be copyrighted, bitches.)
The interview was interesting. Yes, I still think Elizabeth Gilbert is a tad bit of a blowhard. That might be jealousy speaking, and I'll freely admit it. I mean, wouldn't I just love to be on some publisher's dime to find myself? Of course I would. Yet, I also admit that she had some interesting tidbits to share about journaling, asking yourself the hard questions, and finding the courage to change your course in life.
However, during every single frickin' commercial break, Miss Know It All had to pipe in and add commentary. It was getting to be VERY, VERY irritating.
At least to me.
After the interview, we talked about the interview, how it relates to journaling, and we also talked about meditation. Of course, when I say "we" I really mean Miss Know It All and the broad her brought her.
At some point, the woman next to me said, "Is this boring you - you haven't said really said much since the interview started." Um, maybe because every time I started to talk, Miss Know It All cut me off? And she did - every single frickin' time I started a sentence, she talked over me. However, as it would not have been polite to say so, I took a bite of my cookie (again telling: Miss Know It All wouldn't touch the cookies) and said, "I'm really just listening - I learned a lot."
I have to admit, I did get some great ideas and will start journaling again. I even bought something I can use as a journal at Target - and it was even on clearance ($2! - it was probably made in China, but if you won't tell, neither will I).
Am I glad I went? Yes. But I hope to God I never run into Miss Know It All again. If I do, I'll stick a cookie in her mouth so she can't talk.
I love the woman who hosted. She is fast becoming more of a friend and less of an acquaintance as time goes on. She's bubbly, energetic, and very friendly.
She thought the New Year would be a good time to start journaling, and wondered if there were any others that might want to as well, hence the meetup. While quite a few signed up for it, only four of us (and the hostess) were actually there.
The hostess had taped an interview Oprah did with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. I have to admit - I didn't read the book. I did see the movie, and those of you who read a much earlier review of it that I wrote KNOW I hated it. The movie seemed so self important to me. Still, I had to admit that this was one woman who made journaling work for her.
So, after a bit of mingling, we sat down to watch the taped interview. However, before the hostess could hit "play," Miss Know It All decided to talk all about her experience with Eat, Pray, Love.
"I'm a writer" she started out by saying. I did everything I could to prevent myself from rolling my eyes. "I have had several email conversations with Elizabeth Gilbert." Well, good for you. Can I have your autograph, please? "The movie glossed over her transformation. She was depressed, had issues, was seeing a therapist, and had been on all kinds of meds."
Well. I'd like to say something sarcastic here - I really would. However, this was good information to know - even if it did come spilling out of Miss Know It All's mouth.
And it just went on and on. Every time the hostess went to hit "play," Miss Know It All just had to throw some more of her inside scoop in. Finally, she took a breather, and the hostess was able to hit the play button before Miss Know It All could vomit out more tedia. (Tedious trivia - my own word, which will soon be copyrighted, bitches.)
The interview was interesting. Yes, I still think Elizabeth Gilbert is a tad bit of a blowhard. That might be jealousy speaking, and I'll freely admit it. I mean, wouldn't I just love to be on some publisher's dime to find myself? Of course I would. Yet, I also admit that she had some interesting tidbits to share about journaling, asking yourself the hard questions, and finding the courage to change your course in life.
However, during every single frickin' commercial break, Miss Know It All had to pipe in and add commentary. It was getting to be VERY, VERY irritating.
At least to me.
After the interview, we talked about the interview, how it relates to journaling, and we also talked about meditation. Of course, when I say "we" I really mean Miss Know It All and the broad her brought her.
At some point, the woman next to me said, "Is this boring you - you haven't said really said much since the interview started." Um, maybe because every time I started to talk, Miss Know It All cut me off? And she did - every single frickin' time I started a sentence, she talked over me. However, as it would not have been polite to say so, I took a bite of my cookie (again telling: Miss Know It All wouldn't touch the cookies) and said, "I'm really just listening - I learned a lot."
I have to admit, I did get some great ideas and will start journaling again. I even bought something I can use as a journal at Target - and it was even on clearance ($2! - it was probably made in China, but if you won't tell, neither will I).
Am I glad I went? Yes. But I hope to God I never run into Miss Know It All again. If I do, I'll stick a cookie in her mouth so she can't talk.
Thursday, February 02, 2012
Glitter on the Highway
I've been thinking about my mom a lot these last couple of weeks. I suppose I think about her every day - but this is different. There have been lots of memory triggers around lately. For example, I will be at the store, and all of a sudden I see something and think, "Gosh, mom loved that!" Or I'll come across something at the house and remember that I bought it while out shopping with my mom. I've even seen duplicates of items she used to have as I scour the thrift stores.
As the veil between worlds is not currently thin, I don't "feel" her. The memories are definitely just memories - not the overwhelming sensory perceptions they are when the veil is thin. Still, I find it odd that she's popping up so much lately.
Normally on my way into work, I listen to talk radio. This morning, though, I channel hopped until I found a song I liked. And right after that song came another. Then, as I neared work, "Love Shack" came on.
I love that song - and started singing out loud. When I sang "I got me a car, it's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail," I remembered my mom.
Now, I don't think my mom knew who the B-52's were, nor do I believe she ever heard the song itself. However, she drove a huge 1968 Mercury Parklane and whenever I heard the song, I always thought of that car.
One day we were going to go somewhere, and my mom said, "Let's take the Merc" (we normally rode in my dad's truck). All of a sudden, I sang - outloud - "I got me a car, it's as big as a whale, and it's about to set sail! I got me a car, it seats about twenty, so come on and take your jukebox money!" My mom started to laugh.
After that, it became kind of a thing. On the rare occasions we would take the Merc somewhere, I'd start singing that part of the song, and my mom would always laugh.
She loved that car, and wouldn't let my dad get rid of it, even though she stopped driving a few years before she died. While I never knew exactly why she got such a kick out of those few lines from "Love Shack," I think she felt some sort of pride about her car when she heard me chop up the lyrics. It deepened the pride she had in her car - that much I could see in her eyes.
My dad still has the car. I know he contemplates selling it, but he has trouble letting go. He told me that mom would be so disappointed in him if he sold it.
For me, the car holds a lot of memories. We took many a vacation in that car, and I learned to drive in it as well. It was the car Bobby took his last ride in before he was put down at the vet's. It was also the car I hopped into when my mom saw me crying at a bus stop after I found out I couldn't become a Marine.
That car picked me up from the airport every time I came home on leave. And it drove me back to the airport so I could go on to my next adventure. We slept in the car when we went to cat shows "down South." We argued in the car. We laughed in the car.
More importantly, I believe it was my mom's first car. She didn't learn how to drive until I was young - in fact, I remember when she took her driving lessons. I think she may have learned how to drive in that car - but that part, I don't remember. I do remember that for most of my years at home, that was that car that took me places.
Now it sits in the garage. I think it probably misses my mom as much as I do.
As the veil between worlds is not currently thin, I don't "feel" her. The memories are definitely just memories - not the overwhelming sensory perceptions they are when the veil is thin. Still, I find it odd that she's popping up so much lately.
Normally on my way into work, I listen to talk radio. This morning, though, I channel hopped until I found a song I liked. And right after that song came another. Then, as I neared work, "Love Shack" came on.
I love that song - and started singing out loud. When I sang "I got me a car, it's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail," I remembered my mom.
Now, I don't think my mom knew who the B-52's were, nor do I believe she ever heard the song itself. However, she drove a huge 1968 Mercury Parklane and whenever I heard the song, I always thought of that car.
One day we were going to go somewhere, and my mom said, "Let's take the Merc" (we normally rode in my dad's truck). All of a sudden, I sang - outloud - "I got me a car, it's as big as a whale, and it's about to set sail! I got me a car, it seats about twenty, so come on and take your jukebox money!" My mom started to laugh.
After that, it became kind of a thing. On the rare occasions we would take the Merc somewhere, I'd start singing that part of the song, and my mom would always laugh.
She loved that car, and wouldn't let my dad get rid of it, even though she stopped driving a few years before she died. While I never knew exactly why she got such a kick out of those few lines from "Love Shack," I think she felt some sort of pride about her car when she heard me chop up the lyrics. It deepened the pride she had in her car - that much I could see in her eyes.
My dad still has the car. I know he contemplates selling it, but he has trouble letting go. He told me that mom would be so disappointed in him if he sold it.
For me, the car holds a lot of memories. We took many a vacation in that car, and I learned to drive in it as well. It was the car Bobby took his last ride in before he was put down at the vet's. It was also the car I hopped into when my mom saw me crying at a bus stop after I found out I couldn't become a Marine.
That car picked me up from the airport every time I came home on leave. And it drove me back to the airport so I could go on to my next adventure. We slept in the car when we went to cat shows "down South." We argued in the car. We laughed in the car.
More importantly, I believe it was my mom's first car. She didn't learn how to drive until I was young - in fact, I remember when she took her driving lessons. I think she may have learned how to drive in that car - but that part, I don't remember. I do remember that for most of my years at home, that was that car that took me places.
Now it sits in the garage. I think it probably misses my mom as much as I do.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
The Sunday Seven
1) I really REALLY want to open a bottle of wine. But I won't.
2) I also really REALLY want a Claim Jumper brownie. I've hit that stage of Atkins where the food cravings kick in. Must resist.
3) I talked to a friend yesterday and we made a pact: we're going to go out once a month (at least). Music. Drinks. Try new places. I'm excited - I was a hermit for the last half of 2011 - no more Hermie for me! (or is that Hermes?)
4) I'm also thinking of starting a singles group for people of a "certain age." I honestly don't have the energy to pull it together, though - but if I'm going to do it, I need to do it by February 1st - otherwise, Meetup's costs go up.
5) Two of my "witchy" friends think they're being helpful by constantly telling me that there is no one here in Reno for me. For some reason, that really bugs me. Maybe I'll just conjure somebody up - that'll show 'em.
6) Not sure what it will show 'em, really - perhaps it will just make me feel better.
7) You know what would really make me feel better? A Claim Jumper brownie and a glass of wine.
2) I also really REALLY want a Claim Jumper brownie. I've hit that stage of Atkins where the food cravings kick in. Must resist.
3) I talked to a friend yesterday and we made a pact: we're going to go out once a month (at least). Music. Drinks. Try new places. I'm excited - I was a hermit for the last half of 2011 - no more Hermie for me! (or is that Hermes?)
4) I'm also thinking of starting a singles group for people of a "certain age." I honestly don't have the energy to pull it together, though - but if I'm going to do it, I need to do it by February 1st - otherwise, Meetup's costs go up.
5) Two of my "witchy" friends think they're being helpful by constantly telling me that there is no one here in Reno for me. For some reason, that really bugs me. Maybe I'll just conjure somebody up - that'll show 'em.
6) Not sure what it will show 'em, really - perhaps it will just make me feel better.
7) You know what would really make me feel better? A Claim Jumper brownie and a glass of wine.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Exhausted of Incense
Demi Moore has been hospitalized due to "exhaustion." Who, besides the rich, are ever hospitalized for exhaustion? Fuck - I'm exhausted. You don't see me trotting off to a hospital saying, "Admit me, I'm fucking exhausted man!"
I think by now we've come to know that the term "hospitalized for exhaustion" is just another way of saying "overdose." Perhaps in the case of some size 0 models, it could really mean "she hasn't eaten anything in three months" - if so, shouldn't the model just be admitted to the local McDonald's for a couple of hamburgers and call it good?
I digress - let's get back to Demi Moore, shall we? What the fuck did she smoke that was "similar to incense" - a bag of potpourri? Or maybe a sachet from her underwear drawer? I think not.
Apparently due to "privacy issues," parts of the 911 call were redacted. I get it - but jeepers, let's not try to be fooled into thinking that Demi Moore, broken up over the demise of her marriage, decided to light up something that's almost as innocent as incense. Because that simply did not happen. She acted like a meth head let loose in a meth lab and grabbed everything near her that could get her high.
The real part of this story that pisses me off, though, is that Demi Moore is having a very public breakdown because she lost that fucking loser Ashton Kutcher. Seriously sister? You should be kickin' up your heels and celebrating. He was cheating on you for years. Plus, he's not even a good actor!
Here's a hard truth, sister: People lose all respect for women who self-medicate to get over someone. The fact that your self-medication became public is humiliating and embarrassing - not just for you, but for all women of a "certain age." You might be thinking we're in your corner, saying "Oh you poor thing. We understand."
Nah - we're sitting around the water cooler saying, "What a fucking bimbo! Did she really think Ashton was in it for the long haul, especially when he was flicking his dick every which way but loose?"
Look lady - you're rich. Don't spend your money on drugs; take yourself on a whirlwind vacay around the world. Or scurry off to a spa. Or buy yourself a boy toy. Just please, stay away from the drugs.
For heaven's sake, use a little common sense. People don't pity a self-medicating cry baby. Take a page from Jennifer Aniston's book: act with a little dignity, okay? Then maybe we'll feel sorry for you.
In the meantime, stay away from incense. Especially the Nag Champa. I hear it's a killer.
I think by now we've come to know that the term "hospitalized for exhaustion" is just another way of saying "overdose." Perhaps in the case of some size 0 models, it could really mean "she hasn't eaten anything in three months" - if so, shouldn't the model just be admitted to the local McDonald's for a couple of hamburgers and call it good?
I digress - let's get back to Demi Moore, shall we? What the fuck did she smoke that was "similar to incense" - a bag of potpourri? Or maybe a sachet from her underwear drawer? I think not.
Apparently due to "privacy issues," parts of the 911 call were redacted. I get it - but jeepers, let's not try to be fooled into thinking that Demi Moore, broken up over the demise of her marriage, decided to light up something that's almost as innocent as incense. Because that simply did not happen. She acted like a meth head let loose in a meth lab and grabbed everything near her that could get her high.
The real part of this story that pisses me off, though, is that Demi Moore is having a very public breakdown because she lost that fucking loser Ashton Kutcher. Seriously sister? You should be kickin' up your heels and celebrating. He was cheating on you for years. Plus, he's not even a good actor!
Here's a hard truth, sister: People lose all respect for women who self-medicate to get over someone. The fact that your self-medication became public is humiliating and embarrassing - not just for you, but for all women of a "certain age." You might be thinking we're in your corner, saying "Oh you poor thing. We understand."
Nah - we're sitting around the water cooler saying, "What a fucking bimbo! Did she really think Ashton was in it for the long haul, especially when he was flicking his dick every which way but loose?"
Look lady - you're rich. Don't spend your money on drugs; take yourself on a whirlwind vacay around the world. Or scurry off to a spa. Or buy yourself a boy toy. Just please, stay away from the drugs.
For heaven's sake, use a little common sense. People don't pity a self-medicating cry baby. Take a page from Jennifer Aniston's book: act with a little dignity, okay? Then maybe we'll feel sorry for you.
In the meantime, stay away from incense. Especially the Nag Champa. I hear it's a killer.
Friday, January 20, 2012
The Friday Five
I haven't done this in a while... shame on me.
1) I'm losing weight - and it feels good. I have on a pair of pants today that feel like I need to keep pulling them up.I've checked myself in the mirror several times- yes, my pants are still on.
2) I feel so good about myself that I may wear a dress tomorrow to the company holiday party.
3) Then again, it's as cold as an icicle out there, so maybe not.
4) Yes, we're having our holiday party tomorrow - normally I wouldn't go, but as I've been talked to about participating in company events, I'll be there. With bells on. Why? Because I want everyone to NOTICE that I'm there, so maybe I'll stop getting pulled into meetings and told "you know, it hurts me personally when you don't participate in company or team events."
5) The thing is, it sounds like there will be a lot of good food there. And I'm on a diet (see #1). And that makes me not wanna go - but I'll be there. With a muzzle on.
Go team!
1) I'm losing weight - and it feels good. I have on a pair of pants today that feel like I need to keep pulling them up.I've checked myself in the mirror several times- yes, my pants are still on.
2) I feel so good about myself that I may wear a dress tomorrow to the company holiday party.
3) Then again, it's as cold as an icicle out there, so maybe not.
4) Yes, we're having our holiday party tomorrow - normally I wouldn't go, but as I've been talked to about participating in company events, I'll be there. With bells on. Why? Because I want everyone to NOTICE that I'm there, so maybe I'll stop getting pulled into meetings and told "you know, it hurts me personally when you don't participate in company or team events."
5) The thing is, it sounds like there will be a lot of good food there. And I'm on a diet (see #1). And that makes me not wanna go - but I'll be there. With a muzzle on.
Go team!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Have some butter, y'all!
Ugh. If I hear the words "Paula Deen," "butter," and "diabetes" in the same sentence again, I am going to throw something at the next reporter I see. Honestly.
And while I know that ignorance can be bliss, it's not when it's a reporter being ignorant. Look here, media: butter does not cause diabetes. Neither does fats in foods.
Diabetes is a metabolism disorder, plain and simple. Paula Deen did not get diabetes because she uses butter in her recipes. She may have gotten it due to eating a lot of starchy and sugar-laden foods. The truth, as the Department of Health states, is "The cause of type 2 diabetes is largely unknown..."
So to all you reporters out there who think it's ironic that the thing Paula Deen loved so much in her food is the thing that caused her diabetes - you're so wrong it's almost laughable. I say "almost" because the truth is you're getting paid to put out that trash - and that's nothing to laugh about.
Readers, please add some butter to your food tonight. It won't hurt you - and you'll actually enjoy it.
Imagine that... eating food that actually tastes good. Here's to you, Paula Deen! I hope you figure out how to continue using butter in your new diabetic-friendly recipes!
And while I know that ignorance can be bliss, it's not when it's a reporter being ignorant. Look here, media: butter does not cause diabetes. Neither does fats in foods.
Diabetes is a metabolism disorder, plain and simple. Paula Deen did not get diabetes because she uses butter in her recipes. She may have gotten it due to eating a lot of starchy and sugar-laden foods. The truth, as the Department of Health states, is "The cause of type 2 diabetes is largely unknown..."
So to all you reporters out there who think it's ironic that the thing Paula Deen loved so much in her food is the thing that caused her diabetes - you're so wrong it's almost laughable. I say "almost" because the truth is you're getting paid to put out that trash - and that's nothing to laugh about.
Readers, please add some butter to your food tonight. It won't hurt you - and you'll actually enjoy it.
Imagine that... eating food that actually tastes good. Here's to you, Paula Deen! I hope you figure out how to continue using butter in your new diabetic-friendly recipes!
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Woof
I want a dog. Or rather, wanted. Well… I still want one. Kind of. But now my home is overrun with animals – okay cats – and so it probably isn’t the best time to get a dog.
The lady who wanted to rehome her Scottie fell off my radar. She always had some excuse as to why I couldn’t meet him – and so I’d give up, and then she’d contact me. “Still interested?” “Hells yeah!” And we’d start the process all over again and it would always end the same way: I would not get to meet the dog.
While I was waiting for her to squeeze me into her busy schedule, I decided to visit other dogs. There are plenty of them available. I visited adoption sites and the Humane Society. I sat with dogs, talked to dogs, and played with dogs. Still… I didn’t find one who seemed to like me as much as Buster did.
And in case you didn’t catch it, Buster is a cat – my new cat.
Apparently I’m not as patient as I like to think I am, because after about a month, I decided to give in and adopt Buster instead of holding out for a dog. According to my other two cats, that was a mistake. They might be right… but I won’t admit it to them.
I still yearn for a dog, so I’m going to have to go back to my original plan which was this: get myself a boyfriend who has a dog. Or two. Think that will work?
The lady who wanted to rehome her Scottie fell off my radar. She always had some excuse as to why I couldn’t meet him – and so I’d give up, and then she’d contact me. “Still interested?” “Hells yeah!” And we’d start the process all over again and it would always end the same way: I would not get to meet the dog.
While I was waiting for her to squeeze me into her busy schedule, I decided to visit other dogs. There are plenty of them available. I visited adoption sites and the Humane Society. I sat with dogs, talked to dogs, and played with dogs. Still… I didn’t find one who seemed to like me as much as Buster did.
And in case you didn’t catch it, Buster is a cat – my new cat.
Apparently I’m not as patient as I like to think I am, because after about a month, I decided to give in and adopt Buster instead of holding out for a dog. According to my other two cats, that was a mistake. They might be right… but I won’t admit it to them.
I still yearn for a dog, so I’m going to have to go back to my original plan which was this: get myself a boyfriend who has a dog. Or two. Think that will work?
Bad Hair Day
Like most women, my confidence level is equal to how good I feel about my hair. If my hair is frizzy, or my grey streak wide, I find that I don’t want people to notice me. On the other hand, when my hair feels soft and the grey streak is gone, watch out world: I want you to notice me!
A few years ago, my stylist introduced me to a wonderful hair product: Kerastase. It’s from France, and falls under L’Oreal’s umbrella of products. She raved about it and said that I’d never even know my hair was colored – that this product would make my hair feel soft to the touch.
Now excuse me for being skeptical, but I can’t count the amount of times a stylist has gushed about this product or that, only to find that the product did not live up to the hype. So, I told her I while I trusted her, I was going to hold judgment on the product until I saw the effects myself.
After coloring my hair, she used the then new Kerastase products to wash and condition my hair. Then she used some styling Kerastase products on my hair before blow drying – and I had to admit that afterwards, my hair felt soft. But then again, it always does right after getting it done. She said, “Just wait – your hair will still feel this great three days from now.”
She was right. Not only did my hair feel great on the third day, but it felt good on the 4th and 5th day as well. I was sold – but my wallet wasn’t. Kerastase is expensive, and so I was going to have to make do with my Nature’s Organics products (which did not have the same effect!).
Then I was laid off, and my stylist gave me a full size Kerastase shampoo and conditioner for Christmas. “It’s all I can do – but at least you’ll have great hair for your interviews!” I thanked her profusely.
The next time I visited, she gave me some full-size tester styling products, too. I was set.
In the years that have passed, I’ve been lucky to find the products at a deep discount on eBay. So, my hair has remained soft, shiny and supple ever since. And because I’m sold on Kerastase, I am hesitant to try other products.
The other day, Eco-Emi sent me hair product samples from Neuma. Organic. Sustainable. Smelled great. I thought, “Why not?” So, I used the products on my hair the next day. Washed my hair with the shampoo. Conditioned with the conditioner. Used the styling products afterwards.
After blow drying and flat ironing my hair, I noticed that it didn’t feel good. Well.. it didn’t feel bad, either… but it definitely didn’t feel as good as it did after using Kerastase. And now it’s two days later, and my hair feels dry and almost straw-like. And even though the average passerby has no idea what my hair feels like – and the feel hasn’t affected the look – I find my confidence is waning. Strangers might not know that my hair is dry, but I do… and it bugs me.
Lesson learned: Stick with what works. When it comes to something as important as my hair, experimentation isn’t always a good thing.
A few years ago, my stylist introduced me to a wonderful hair product: Kerastase. It’s from France, and falls under L’Oreal’s umbrella of products. She raved about it and said that I’d never even know my hair was colored – that this product would make my hair feel soft to the touch.
Now excuse me for being skeptical, but I can’t count the amount of times a stylist has gushed about this product or that, only to find that the product did not live up to the hype. So, I told her I while I trusted her, I was going to hold judgment on the product until I saw the effects myself.
After coloring my hair, she used the then new Kerastase products to wash and condition my hair. Then she used some styling Kerastase products on my hair before blow drying – and I had to admit that afterwards, my hair felt soft. But then again, it always does right after getting it done. She said, “Just wait – your hair will still feel this great three days from now.”
She was right. Not only did my hair feel great on the third day, but it felt good on the 4th and 5th day as well. I was sold – but my wallet wasn’t. Kerastase is expensive, and so I was going to have to make do with my Nature’s Organics products (which did not have the same effect!).
Then I was laid off, and my stylist gave me a full size Kerastase shampoo and conditioner for Christmas. “It’s all I can do – but at least you’ll have great hair for your interviews!” I thanked her profusely.
The next time I visited, she gave me some full-size tester styling products, too. I was set.
In the years that have passed, I’ve been lucky to find the products at a deep discount on eBay. So, my hair has remained soft, shiny and supple ever since. And because I’m sold on Kerastase, I am hesitant to try other products.
The other day, Eco-Emi sent me hair product samples from Neuma. Organic. Sustainable. Smelled great. I thought, “Why not?” So, I used the products on my hair the next day. Washed my hair with the shampoo. Conditioned with the conditioner. Used the styling products afterwards.
After blow drying and flat ironing my hair, I noticed that it didn’t feel good. Well.. it didn’t feel bad, either… but it definitely didn’t feel as good as it did after using Kerastase. And now it’s two days later, and my hair feels dry and almost straw-like. And even though the average passerby has no idea what my hair feels like – and the feel hasn’t affected the look – I find my confidence is waning. Strangers might not know that my hair is dry, but I do… and it bugs me.
Lesson learned: Stick with what works. When it comes to something as important as my hair, experimentation isn’t always a good thing.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Beautiful, Wonderful, Magical Fall
I love the weather this time of year – and even more so this year, as we’re having “unusually high temps.” But, the “high” isn’t horrible – the highest was yesterday at 99 degrees. But 99 in the fall is much different than 99 in the summer, so it’s been really, REALLY pleasant.
The one part of fall that gets me down is the loss of light. Last night, it was dark by 7:30. As the light lessons, I feel the coming of winter.
The shortness of the winter days really gets to me. I find myself going to bed early, and feeling imprisoned by the darkness. I rarely venture out after the sun has gone down – and tear around like a mad woman on weekends to get all my errands done so I can be home before dark in the winter.
However, it’s not winter yet, and I have to admit I am loving fall.
I spend every spare moment I have outside, reading or just soaking up the rays. Sometimes I sit outside on my break, close my eyes, and delight in the sun.
A friend from work and I sometimes break together, but we’ve been having trouble coordinating our outdoor breaks – she yearns for the shade, I the sun. Sometimes we get lucky, and find a table with one chair in the shade (for her) and one in the sun (for me). But, that doesn’t happen until the afternoon – so my morning break has turned into my own, basking in the sun and dreading the winter.
It’s going to be an early winter – snow is already predicted for next week. Yes, alright, in the 8,000 elevation areas… but still, that’s close, and reminds me that winter will be here much too soon.
I’m not ready for it.
This summer went by really fast, and September blew past me like a race car driver. Where did it go? Was it really even here?
I hope October doesn’t go by as quickly.
The one part of fall that gets me down is the loss of light. Last night, it was dark by 7:30. As the light lessons, I feel the coming of winter.
The shortness of the winter days really gets to me. I find myself going to bed early, and feeling imprisoned by the darkness. I rarely venture out after the sun has gone down – and tear around like a mad woman on weekends to get all my errands done so I can be home before dark in the winter.
However, it’s not winter yet, and I have to admit I am loving fall.
I spend every spare moment I have outside, reading or just soaking up the rays. Sometimes I sit outside on my break, close my eyes, and delight in the sun.
A friend from work and I sometimes break together, but we’ve been having trouble coordinating our outdoor breaks – she yearns for the shade, I the sun. Sometimes we get lucky, and find a table with one chair in the shade (for her) and one in the sun (for me). But, that doesn’t happen until the afternoon – so my morning break has turned into my own, basking in the sun and dreading the winter.
It’s going to be an early winter – snow is already predicted for next week. Yes, alright, in the 8,000 elevation areas… but still, that’s close, and reminds me that winter will be here much too soon.
I’m not ready for it.
This summer went by really fast, and September blew past me like a race car driver. Where did it go? Was it really even here?
I hope October doesn’t go by as quickly.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Life is just so daily
I have a Mary Engelbreit mug with the above saying plastered on it. It's probably my favorite mug in the whole world.
Life REALLY is "just so daily."
It goes on and on, and things happen. The things pile up. Some good. Some bad. And time just keeps going and going and going... like the Energizer Bunny.
I guess I could look to see when the last time was I posted here, but I don't want to. I promised I would get better, and I didn't. I don't think I want a date looking me in the face, taunting me on how long it's been.
Here I am. Today. Sunday.
I don't even know where to begin. Work, perhaps. It sucks - I mean, really sucks. Not sucks in the way that things aren't simply going my way. Sucks in the big way - the way that has led me into my boss' office more times than I'd care to admit.
Me. The person who's almost never been in trouble ever before in my 40+ years of working - and here it's almost a daily thing.
Okay, I exaggerate. But give me that, okay? I'm not used to being in trouble.
Life... goes on. I get up, I put my clothes on, and I stumble out to the car to get to work. I've got a few friends, and we hang out. Sometimes. This year I haven't much felt like hanging out, but I do it sometimes just because I know I need it.
I've contemplated suicide several times this year. Not in the sense that I was going to do it - but in the sense that it seems inevitable that I will do it someday. Not tomorrow, not next month, not next year.
Some day.
This isn't a "gee I need some attention" statement. I don't. Believe me - I really don't. It's simply a realization that at the brink of 50, it became glaringly apparent why people get married and have kids. Build a family. Without that... what purpose does life have? Really? At 30 you can say you're still discovering life and reaching goals - and you are. At 40, you can say you're focusing on bettering yourself - and you are. At 50? At 60?... the circle of family and friends gets smaller and smaller. People die off. People move. Get sick. And you suddenly find yourself alone with no one that really cares if you live or die - and you realize it really doesn't matter if you do live - or die.
I'm not there yet. But, unless something changes, I imagine I will be there some day.
I'm not depressed - but I think I am stuck. I've been in survival mode for a long time, and I still can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I'm sure there is one. I'm just not close enough to see it yet.
But enough about that... I've been fostering kittens since about July. I'm on my third set. This current pair (brother and sister) are super timid. They pretty much live behind my toilet. I've never been around kittens with that much fear at such a young age. They are only about 5 weeks old.
I'm at my wit's end on how to help them.
I sat in the bathroom earlier today, and stayed there for about an hour. I read. I twirled a toy and made a clicking sound with my tongue (most of the cats I've been around have responded to that sound). Finally, the female came out... not close, but she came out. She had some food, and went back.
She's braver than her brother, for sure.
I've got them for two weeks before I turn them back in. I hope they become more trustworthy... I'm certainly not the cat whisperer, but I'd like to think I can help.
The truth is, maybe I can't.
I've been pondering what other type of volunteer work I can do. It's time to give back... it really is. Animals are my logical first choice... but what's my second? Food bank... maybe. Elderly people... maybe. Just not sure where to go and how to start.
I'm sure I'll figure it out.
My dad visited a couple of times this summer. It was nice to have him here - and the house felt so empty after he left. It's just us left now. And if he dies, then it's just me... and I guess that's where some of my introspection comes from.
I have no family outside of him. What happens after he dies? To whom would I matter?
Depressing talk. Let's move to something else.
Marietta Vineyards has a wine that I like a lot - they simply call it Old Vine Red Lot ##. Right now they're on Lot 55. I discovered it at Lot 47. The taste doesn't change much from lot to lot. I still like it as much now as I did when I first discovered it.
But it's been a while since I had some - and so when I had a glass of Lot 55 the other day, and had a bunch of vivid, strange dreams that night, I didn't connect them to the wine. I simply thought, "Gee, you had a lot of strange dreams last night.
I had another glass (or two) the next night. Low and behold, I had a bunch more vividly strange dreams. Could it be the wine? Or was it simply the stress from work?
To test it out, I had a different wine for the next few nights (that is, if I had wine at all). No vivid dreams.
I went out and got another bottle of Lot 55. I had a glass, and promptly felt tired. I cleaned up, and went to bed.
I was overcome with a string of dreams - so strangely colorful and striking. When I woke up, I realized it WAS the wine.
How very strange. I have never had that with wine ever before... but this particular brand of wine hits me in the most peculiar way.
I'm thinking of saving my next bottle for Samhain (Halloween) and sharing it with my coven. It'll be interesting to see what kinds of dreams happen that night, when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest.
I think what I'm really hoping for is that one night my mom will come to me in a dream and tell me life is going to get better.
I really hope it will. Because of current events are any indication (shoot up at IHOP, deaths at the Air Races, and the Street Vibrations shooting - all within three weeks time), it doesn't seem like it is. I'd really like to know it will get better.
Wouldn't you?
Life REALLY is "just so daily."
It goes on and on, and things happen. The things pile up. Some good. Some bad. And time just keeps going and going and going... like the Energizer Bunny.
I guess I could look to see when the last time was I posted here, but I don't want to. I promised I would get better, and I didn't. I don't think I want a date looking me in the face, taunting me on how long it's been.
Here I am. Today. Sunday.
I don't even know where to begin. Work, perhaps. It sucks - I mean, really sucks. Not sucks in the way that things aren't simply going my way. Sucks in the big way - the way that has led me into my boss' office more times than I'd care to admit.
Me. The person who's almost never been in trouble ever before in my 40+ years of working - and here it's almost a daily thing.
Okay, I exaggerate. But give me that, okay? I'm not used to being in trouble.
Life... goes on. I get up, I put my clothes on, and I stumble out to the car to get to work. I've got a few friends, and we hang out. Sometimes. This year I haven't much felt like hanging out, but I do it sometimes just because I know I need it.
I've contemplated suicide several times this year. Not in the sense that I was going to do it - but in the sense that it seems inevitable that I will do it someday. Not tomorrow, not next month, not next year.
Some day.
This isn't a "gee I need some attention" statement. I don't. Believe me - I really don't. It's simply a realization that at the brink of 50, it became glaringly apparent why people get married and have kids. Build a family. Without that... what purpose does life have? Really? At 30 you can say you're still discovering life and reaching goals - and you are. At 40, you can say you're focusing on bettering yourself - and you are. At 50? At 60?... the circle of family and friends gets smaller and smaller. People die off. People move. Get sick. And you suddenly find yourself alone with no one that really cares if you live or die - and you realize it really doesn't matter if you do live - or die.
I'm not there yet. But, unless something changes, I imagine I will be there some day.
I'm not depressed - but I think I am stuck. I've been in survival mode for a long time, and I still can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I'm sure there is one. I'm just not close enough to see it yet.
But enough about that... I've been fostering kittens since about July. I'm on my third set. This current pair (brother and sister) are super timid. They pretty much live behind my toilet. I've never been around kittens with that much fear at such a young age. They are only about 5 weeks old.
I'm at my wit's end on how to help them.
I sat in the bathroom earlier today, and stayed there for about an hour. I read. I twirled a toy and made a clicking sound with my tongue (most of the cats I've been around have responded to that sound). Finally, the female came out... not close, but she came out. She had some food, and went back.
She's braver than her brother, for sure.
I've got them for two weeks before I turn them back in. I hope they become more trustworthy... I'm certainly not the cat whisperer, but I'd like to think I can help.
The truth is, maybe I can't.
I've been pondering what other type of volunteer work I can do. It's time to give back... it really is. Animals are my logical first choice... but what's my second? Food bank... maybe. Elderly people... maybe. Just not sure where to go and how to start.
I'm sure I'll figure it out.
My dad visited a couple of times this summer. It was nice to have him here - and the house felt so empty after he left. It's just us left now. And if he dies, then it's just me... and I guess that's where some of my introspection comes from.
I have no family outside of him. What happens after he dies? To whom would I matter?
Depressing talk. Let's move to something else.
Marietta Vineyards has a wine that I like a lot - they simply call it Old Vine Red Lot ##. Right now they're on Lot 55. I discovered it at Lot 47. The taste doesn't change much from lot to lot. I still like it as much now as I did when I first discovered it.
But it's been a while since I had some - and so when I had a glass of Lot 55 the other day, and had a bunch of vivid, strange dreams that night, I didn't connect them to the wine. I simply thought, "Gee, you had a lot of strange dreams last night.
I had another glass (or two) the next night. Low and behold, I had a bunch more vividly strange dreams. Could it be the wine? Or was it simply the stress from work?
To test it out, I had a different wine for the next few nights (that is, if I had wine at all). No vivid dreams.
I went out and got another bottle of Lot 55. I had a glass, and promptly felt tired. I cleaned up, and went to bed.
I was overcome with a string of dreams - so strangely colorful and striking. When I woke up, I realized it WAS the wine.
How very strange. I have never had that with wine ever before... but this particular brand of wine hits me in the most peculiar way.
I'm thinking of saving my next bottle for Samhain (Halloween) and sharing it with my coven. It'll be interesting to see what kinds of dreams happen that night, when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest.
I think what I'm really hoping for is that one night my mom will come to me in a dream and tell me life is going to get better.
I really hope it will. Because of current events are any indication (shoot up at IHOP, deaths at the Air Races, and the Street Vibrations shooting - all within three weeks time), it doesn't seem like it is. I'd really like to know it will get better.
Wouldn't you?
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
The Truth about Nothing
Yesterday while eating breakfast at a local IHOP, several Nevadan military members were shot, along with at least one civilian. So far four people are dead.
The shooter? Dead as well – due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
As you can imagine, that was big news here in Nevada. It happened in Carson City, also known as our state capital. When I first heard the news, I was horrified.
Can you imagine meeting with your friends and/or family at the local IHOP, with nothing on your mind other than ordering those glorious potato pancakes, or a stack of decadent chocolate chip pancakes, and then all of a sudden realizing that a gun was going off and people were dropping left and right?
Some news reporters are calling it a “massacre.” By definition a massacre is “the act or an instance of killing a large number of humans indiscriminately and cruelly.” So, are four people dead a “large number”? I guess that’s subjective. If you spend all your time watching shoot ‘em ups on TV, then I guess four people seems like a small amount. But, if you lead a fairly insulated life, then yes, four people is a large amount.
As for me, I’m still wrapping my head around this. It’s horrifying to think that one minute you could be doing something so very innocent (like ordering breakfast), and the next minute be lying on the floor from a gunshot wound.
Some locals are stating that it’s incidents like this that should incite citizens to buy guns and get their CCWs. But I’m not convinced. One patron interviewed stated he was carrying a pistol – but that was no match against the altered AK-47 the shooter had. In the very little time he had to assess the situation, he decided against brandishing his pistol.
I can’t say I blame him. He would have had to figure out – very quickly – if he could take the guy out, if he had a clear shot, if he could grab the weapon before the shooter noticed… etc., etc., etc. And that’s a heck of a lot of information to figure out in a high pressure situation like that – heck, this guy wasn’t trained to make those sorts of decisions.
So… yes, carrying concealed might have its advantages in some situations, but not when faced with a lunatic unloading an AK-47 in a roomful of people.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life and the end of life. This incident just put all my thoughts into overdrive. We like to think we have a tenacious grip on life, when in all actuality that’s more illusion than truth.
Life can be taken from us at any time – in any way. But instead of worrying about that, I suppose we should focus on the time we have left and make the most of that.
I’m trying. Perhaps I’m not succeeding, but I am most definitely trying.
The shooter? Dead as well – due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
As you can imagine, that was big news here in Nevada. It happened in Carson City, also known as our state capital. When I first heard the news, I was horrified.
Can you imagine meeting with your friends and/or family at the local IHOP, with nothing on your mind other than ordering those glorious potato pancakes, or a stack of decadent chocolate chip pancakes, and then all of a sudden realizing that a gun was going off and people were dropping left and right?
Some news reporters are calling it a “massacre.” By definition a massacre is “the act or an instance of killing a large number of humans indiscriminately and cruelly.” So, are four people dead a “large number”? I guess that’s subjective. If you spend all your time watching shoot ‘em ups on TV, then I guess four people seems like a small amount. But, if you lead a fairly insulated life, then yes, four people is a large amount.
As for me, I’m still wrapping my head around this. It’s horrifying to think that one minute you could be doing something so very innocent (like ordering breakfast), and the next minute be lying on the floor from a gunshot wound.
Some locals are stating that it’s incidents like this that should incite citizens to buy guns and get their CCWs. But I’m not convinced. One patron interviewed stated he was carrying a pistol – but that was no match against the altered AK-47 the shooter had. In the very little time he had to assess the situation, he decided against brandishing his pistol.
I can’t say I blame him. He would have had to figure out – very quickly – if he could take the guy out, if he had a clear shot, if he could grab the weapon before the shooter noticed… etc., etc., etc. And that’s a heck of a lot of information to figure out in a high pressure situation like that – heck, this guy wasn’t trained to make those sorts of decisions.
So… yes, carrying concealed might have its advantages in some situations, but not when faced with a lunatic unloading an AK-47 in a roomful of people.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life and the end of life. This incident just put all my thoughts into overdrive. We like to think we have a tenacious grip on life, when in all actuality that’s more illusion than truth.
Life can be taken from us at any time – in any way. But instead of worrying about that, I suppose we should focus on the time we have left and make the most of that.
I’m trying. Perhaps I’m not succeeding, but I am most definitely trying.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Friday Five
1) I did not exist at work this week. I arrived on Monday to discover that I had been obliterated from the system during weekend computer maintenance and upgrades. As I couldn't even log on to my computer, I went home for the rest of the day.
2) If you thought an unexpected day off was fun, you'd be wrong. Apria was supposed to come by to pick up my dad's oxygen tanks on Monday, so since I was home from work, he left to go to the Bay Area while I stayed at home waiting for Apria. Several calls and hours later, they still hadn't come. At 9 p.m. I was told "Guess what? We're not coming after all!"
I'm glad my dad decided to go home - otherwise he never would have gotten there!
3) The system doesn't like me. This really shouldn't be news - especially as Mercury is in Retrograde. By Wednesday, everyone else's access had been restored (four of us had been affected), but mine. I could not even get to the bathroom without an escort. It was a pain in the ass, to say the least.
4) Good wine helps with coping skills. For my birthday, a friend gave me two bottles of wine. One I obliterated months ago, but another - one I had been wanting to try for a long time - was saved for "a special occasion." I decided that instead of waiting for a special occasion, I could use it to drown my sorrows, so I opened that baby up on Wednesday (or Tuesday?).
I'm glad I finally opened it - it was one of the best wines I've tried this year!
5) It's Friday, and all is good with the world. Well, okay, I don't know if everything is good with the world, but my building access was finally restored this afternoon, I seem to have most of my program permissions back, and the week is almost over. Mercury in Retrograde doesn't end until next Friday, though... but I'm hoping that this was the worst of it for me.
2) If you thought an unexpected day off was fun, you'd be wrong. Apria was supposed to come by to pick up my dad's oxygen tanks on Monday, so since I was home from work, he left to go to the Bay Area while I stayed at home waiting for Apria. Several calls and hours later, they still hadn't come. At 9 p.m. I was told "Guess what? We're not coming after all!"
I'm glad my dad decided to go home - otherwise he never would have gotten there!
3) The system doesn't like me. This really shouldn't be news - especially as Mercury is in Retrograde. By Wednesday, everyone else's access had been restored (four of us had been affected), but mine. I could not even get to the bathroom without an escort. It was a pain in the ass, to say the least.
4) Good wine helps with coping skills. For my birthday, a friend gave me two bottles of wine. One I obliterated months ago, but another - one I had been wanting to try for a long time - was saved for "a special occasion." I decided that instead of waiting for a special occasion, I could use it to drown my sorrows, so I opened that baby up on Wednesday (or Tuesday?).
I'm glad I finally opened it - it was one of the best wines I've tried this year!
5) It's Friday, and all is good with the world. Well, okay, I don't know if everything is good with the world, but my building access was finally restored this afternoon, I seem to have most of my program permissions back, and the week is almost over. Mercury in Retrograde doesn't end until next Friday, though... but I'm hoping that this was the worst of it for me.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The Here and Now
There's a book called The Power of Now. Back when I was taking The Artist's Way classes, the instructor told us that book should be on our reading lists. I found a copy at a thrift store or a yard sale and bought it - but never did read it.
I know I have trouble living "in the now." My head is always somewhere else... in the past, in the future, and seldom right in the now. I find that now that I REALIZE I'm getting older, my head is frequently in the past.
This was never more true than yesterday when I went to the Borders after work to see if I could snag a deal before they closed. When I first heard the news that Borders was closing, I instantly felt sad. I have so many good memories involving Borders - memories that came flooding back after I heard the news.
When I first arrived in Virginia, I met with an old Army friend and she took me to my first Borders. She knew I loved books, and said, "You will not believe this place. It's huge and it has a cafe inside!" She was right - I almost couldn't believe it. I was overwhelmed.
After looking around at books, we settled into the cafe with a sweet and a fancy coffee and caught up on each other's lives.
When I moved to California, there wasn't a Borders there yet... but soon there was, and I couldn't have been happier. I spent many a moment there, listening to music samples, browsing the books, drinking coffee... I had many first dates at Borders. And when I moved to Reno and founded a women's group, we had our very first meeting at Borders.
It was the one place my ex and I both enjoyed and could share - we didn't have too many of the same tastes when it came to shopping - but books were our second love, so we went there a lot after a meal out.
The news that Borders was closing wasn't a complete surprise - I had heard several stories on NPR in the last year about how badly they were doing. Yet, hearing the news that they were definitely closing hit me hard.
When I received the email on Friday stating their liquidation sale started on Friday, I decided I would go there right after work to have one last visit with Borders. The cafe was closed, and the parking lot was full. The line to the cashier was long and windy, but moving quickly.
I went to my favorite section, but was disappointed to discover that particular genre was only 10% off. I thought, "Gee, I can get at least a 20% discount at Amazon..." and then it really hit me why Borders was closing - and I don't think it's just because of eReaders. I know I'm not alone in preferring real books to eReaders.
No... it was that mindset - that "I can get this cheaper on Amazon" knowledge - that helped kill Borders.
Admittedly, I am pretty poor so in actuality if I buy a book, I buy it from a thrift store or a yard sale. But... there are times I can't find what I want, and so I'll buy a used copy off a vendor at Amazon - and sometimes a new copy is even cheaper than what a vendor is selling it for.
Then I realized I was part of the reason why Borders was killed - I, along with thousands and thousands of people - did not support Borders. Sure, I went there - I'd look at books, but then I'd write down the titles and check the prices on Amazon. Or I'd wait until I went to California to get a copy at Half Price Books - or wait until I could find a copy at a thrift store (I always knew popular releases would soon end up there).
After I was overcome with guilt, I saw a book on the shelf that I couldn't get from Amazon. In fact, Amazon had once placed the item in my Gold Box - I was about to get the book for 37% off. So I placed it in my cart and ordered it. Only, Amazon couldn't fill the order. First they said they ran out, and more were coming. Then, finally about a month ago, they said, "Guess what? We can't get any more copies of this book," and canceled my order.
And there it was - at Borders. So I got it. It was the least I could do - in fact, the very least.
When I left the store, I was teary-eyed. I found myself holding back sobs. Another one of my favorite stores closing - another sign of the times.
Yes, I'm getting older. The old and familiar dies. I am surrounded by the new and unfamiliar.
I don't like it - this getting old business really is not for sissies.
And for you Borders, good-bye. I'm sorry I failed you.
I know I have trouble living "in the now." My head is always somewhere else... in the past, in the future, and seldom right in the now. I find that now that I REALIZE I'm getting older, my head is frequently in the past.
This was never more true than yesterday when I went to the Borders after work to see if I could snag a deal before they closed. When I first heard the news that Borders was closing, I instantly felt sad. I have so many good memories involving Borders - memories that came flooding back after I heard the news.
When I first arrived in Virginia, I met with an old Army friend and she took me to my first Borders. She knew I loved books, and said, "You will not believe this place. It's huge and it has a cafe inside!" She was right - I almost couldn't believe it. I was overwhelmed.
After looking around at books, we settled into the cafe with a sweet and a fancy coffee and caught up on each other's lives.
When I moved to California, there wasn't a Borders there yet... but soon there was, and I couldn't have been happier. I spent many a moment there, listening to music samples, browsing the books, drinking coffee... I had many first dates at Borders. And when I moved to Reno and founded a women's group, we had our very first meeting at Borders.
It was the one place my ex and I both enjoyed and could share - we didn't have too many of the same tastes when it came to shopping - but books were our second love, so we went there a lot after a meal out.
The news that Borders was closing wasn't a complete surprise - I had heard several stories on NPR in the last year about how badly they were doing. Yet, hearing the news that they were definitely closing hit me hard.
When I received the email on Friday stating their liquidation sale started on Friday, I decided I would go there right after work to have one last visit with Borders. The cafe was closed, and the parking lot was full. The line to the cashier was long and windy, but moving quickly.
I went to my favorite section, but was disappointed to discover that particular genre was only 10% off. I thought, "Gee, I can get at least a 20% discount at Amazon..." and then it really hit me why Borders was closing - and I don't think it's just because of eReaders. I know I'm not alone in preferring real books to eReaders.
No... it was that mindset - that "I can get this cheaper on Amazon" knowledge - that helped kill Borders.
Admittedly, I am pretty poor so in actuality if I buy a book, I buy it from a thrift store or a yard sale. But... there are times I can't find what I want, and so I'll buy a used copy off a vendor at Amazon - and sometimes a new copy is even cheaper than what a vendor is selling it for.
Then I realized I was part of the reason why Borders was killed - I, along with thousands and thousands of people - did not support Borders. Sure, I went there - I'd look at books, but then I'd write down the titles and check the prices on Amazon. Or I'd wait until I went to California to get a copy at Half Price Books - or wait until I could find a copy at a thrift store (I always knew popular releases would soon end up there).
After I was overcome with guilt, I saw a book on the shelf that I couldn't get from Amazon. In fact, Amazon had once placed the item in my Gold Box - I was about to get the book for 37% off. So I placed it in my cart and ordered it. Only, Amazon couldn't fill the order. First they said they ran out, and more were coming. Then, finally about a month ago, they said, "Guess what? We can't get any more copies of this book," and canceled my order.
And there it was - at Borders. So I got it. It was the least I could do - in fact, the very least.
When I left the store, I was teary-eyed. I found myself holding back sobs. Another one of my favorite stores closing - another sign of the times.
Yes, I'm getting older. The old and familiar dies. I am surrounded by the new and unfamiliar.
I don't like it - this getting old business really is not for sissies.
And for you Borders, good-bye. I'm sorry I failed you.
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
Back when I was Fab
Years and years ago I joined a group called The Postcard Fairies. This group spanned the globe, with fairies from all over sending "glitta" (a.k.a. postcards) to people in the group.
That's right: good old fashioned snail mail. Remember that?
At some point, the group's message board was moved to MSN, and we had this glorious chat feature. Many hours were spent chatting with one another, adding yet another layer to these global friendships. Someone suggested that we all meet, and from that idea The Postcard Fairy Frolic was born.
This three-day event took place in Minneapolis. The weekend was packed with events - from a pajama party to art workshops to a trip to the Mall of America to lunch on a boat. A bunch of us who only knew each other from snail mail and the occasional chat room conversation turned into real life friends.
Fast forward about ten years. A PCF Reunion group was added to Facebook, but was relatively quiet until this weekend. All of a sudden, there was a burst of activity - and someone posted pictures from the Frolic. The only reason I even knew this was because my friend Em tagged me in a few pics.
I clicked on the links - and wow, did those pictures bring back memories. Not just memories of the fun days of snail mail and new friends - but I saw how skinny and young I was. My hair was curly - my arms were lean and muscled.
I must have been with Mr. Kim then - but I can't remember if we were on our infamous break or not at the time of the Frolic.
What I wouldn't do to be able to go back in time to that weekend - to have that fun all over again in my slim, muscled body. To go back to my life in California and break it off for good with Mr. Kim - oh I wish I had not wasted my prime on him.
I think seeing those pictures made me more than nostalgic - seeing them made me a little sad. I don't think I knew how fabulous I was back then... I sure wish I did.
That's right: good old fashioned snail mail. Remember that?
At some point, the group's message board was moved to MSN, and we had this glorious chat feature. Many hours were spent chatting with one another, adding yet another layer to these global friendships. Someone suggested that we all meet, and from that idea The Postcard Fairy Frolic was born.
This three-day event took place in Minneapolis. The weekend was packed with events - from a pajama party to art workshops to a trip to the Mall of America to lunch on a boat. A bunch of us who only knew each other from snail mail and the occasional chat room conversation turned into real life friends.
Fast forward about ten years. A PCF Reunion group was added to Facebook, but was relatively quiet until this weekend. All of a sudden, there was a burst of activity - and someone posted pictures from the Frolic. The only reason I even knew this was because my friend Em tagged me in a few pics.
I clicked on the links - and wow, did those pictures bring back memories. Not just memories of the fun days of snail mail and new friends - but I saw how skinny and young I was. My hair was curly - my arms were lean and muscled.
I must have been with Mr. Kim then - but I can't remember if we were on our infamous break or not at the time of the Frolic.
What I wouldn't do to be able to go back in time to that weekend - to have that fun all over again in my slim, muscled body. To go back to my life in California and break it off for good with Mr. Kim - oh I wish I had not wasted my prime on him.
I think seeing those pictures made me more than nostalgic - seeing them made me a little sad. I don't think I knew how fabulous I was back then... I sure wish I did.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Blue Valentine
Last night, I found myself without any major plans, so I decided to enjoy my living room (the room I love the best). I rented "Blue Valentine," lit a bunch of candles, and settled in on the couch to watch the movie.
I found the movie difficult to watch. Using juxtaposition, the movie showed the beginnings and the end of a relationship. The cute meet. The giddiness and elation that comes when two souls start to gel. The smiles that appear automatically upon nearing that person.
The movie also portrayed - almost startling so - the stark contrast of love gone bad - or perhaps just stale. Of one partner who grew and one who did not. Of the day-to-day things that can either draw two people closer together or drive them further apart.Of the painful silences and simple conversations that dovetail into arguments.
Michelle Williams' character uttered a phrase I myself said many times, "I just can't do this anymore." I can remember saying this more times than I'd care to admit to over the course of my last three years or so with Mr. Kim. I remember that feeling - the deep knowing that the relationship was over. And yet allowing myself to believe it wasn't and holding on to his words as if they were my only lifeboat.
I had trouble shaking the movie off after it was over. I went to bed, but couldn't sleep. The movie reawakened the pain of holding on to something that just isn't working - and the pain that comes from letting go.
I've been told that I'm not over Mr. Kim yet. But I know that's simply not true - if he were to show up on my doorstep today to beg me to take him back, I know I would not. What I do have trouble getting over, though - or maybe simply not forgiving myself for - is for not giving up sooner. Of wasting time.
Well... as the saying goes, "It's no use crying over spilled milk." So cry I didn't - but almost 24 hours later I find I'm still having trouble shaking off that movie.
It was too real for comfort.
I found the movie difficult to watch. Using juxtaposition, the movie showed the beginnings and the end of a relationship. The cute meet. The giddiness and elation that comes when two souls start to gel. The smiles that appear automatically upon nearing that person.
The movie also portrayed - almost startling so - the stark contrast of love gone bad - or perhaps just stale. Of one partner who grew and one who did not. Of the day-to-day things that can either draw two people closer together or drive them further apart.Of the painful silences and simple conversations that dovetail into arguments.
Michelle Williams' character uttered a phrase I myself said many times, "I just can't do this anymore." I can remember saying this more times than I'd care to admit to over the course of my last three years or so with Mr. Kim. I remember that feeling - the deep knowing that the relationship was over. And yet allowing myself to believe it wasn't and holding on to his words as if they were my only lifeboat.
I had trouble shaking the movie off after it was over. I went to bed, but couldn't sleep. The movie reawakened the pain of holding on to something that just isn't working - and the pain that comes from letting go.
I've been told that I'm not over Mr. Kim yet. But I know that's simply not true - if he were to show up on my doorstep today to beg me to take him back, I know I would not. What I do have trouble getting over, though - or maybe simply not forgiving myself for - is for not giving up sooner. Of wasting time.
Well... as the saying goes, "It's no use crying over spilled milk." So cry I didn't - but almost 24 hours later I find I'm still having trouble shaking off that movie.
It was too real for comfort.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
What happens in Hawthorne...
...is posted to the Internet!
The Hot Stix are back in town after our long weekend celebrating Armed Forces Day in Hawthorne. Here's what you missed:
1) Monster Truck Ride: Two Airborne Ranger Monster Trucks were there for the parade. After the parade, they set up in an abandoned lot and charged $5 per ride. Only two Hot Stix were up for the challenge: me and the other single redhead. It was a blast! Who knew Monster Trucks were fun?
2) Speaking of the other single redhead, she has a new name: Bloody Mary. Bet you can't guess what she was drinking all weekend.
3) Speaking of drinking, I didn't let loose. I brought four bottles of wine, and came back with three. I guess there were other things to take up my time, like...
4) The Parade: We practice for over three months to a song we LOVED - So What by Pink. We had new moves. A new costume. And a new sound system. We rocked, the sound system sucked. No one in the audience could hear the music. This was for several reasons: The sound system was mounted on a motorcycle (which most of us didn't want to happen, but...), and a firetruck was behind us in the parade, blasting its siren.
5) Karaoke: The VFW hosts karaoke night every year on Armed Forces Day in Hawthorne. Last year I begged the girls to go with - no one would. This year I talked three into going, and we had a blast. A Marine came over to me and said, "You chose the funnest songs tonight - will you sing one with me?" I had to do my part and oblige the active duty servicemember... we sang "Single Ladies..." and tore it UP in da house, fashizzle.
6) FYI: I also do a mean Snoop Doggy Dog, you know, just in case you were wondering.
7) Old Fuddy Duddies apparently don't appreciate the Snoop.
8) High heels cause pregnancy. Well, at least, we think they do. Everywhere we went, we found young girls in FMPs toting babies around. Who knew that Hush Puppies were the new birth control?
9) Hawthorne shuts down at 11 p.m. - even on a Saturday. The only other single gal and I attempted to have ourselves a single girl adventure after Karaoke. We hit the El Capitan first... and there were only four other people listening to the band, who kind of sucked and were arguing about what to play next. Then we went to Barley's, apparently the best place to party. But when we got there (before 11 p.m.), the band said, "This is our last song," and proceeded to close their set with one of the dumbest rock songs ever. The three remaining audience members-slash-motorcycle gang members couldn't even get that excited about it - and that was after they'd been drinking beer all day long.
Last stop was Joe's Tavern, the next best place to party. The cops beat us there - three cop cars, six cops, and the place was cleared out. So at 11:05 p.m., we found ourselves back in the room, donning our pajamas.
10) Small towns do have spirit. Yes, I make fun of Hawthorne, and you would, too, if you went there. However, there is no denying that the town LOVES its veterans. Visitors come from all over the country to celebrate Armed Forces Day there. The welcoming given to veterans and active service members brings a tear to the eye and a warmth to the heart.
I love going there every year just for that fact alone. Oh, and the karaoke ain't bad, either.
The Hot Stix are back in town after our long weekend celebrating Armed Forces Day in Hawthorne. Here's what you missed:
1) Monster Truck Ride: Two Airborne Ranger Monster Trucks were there for the parade. After the parade, they set up in an abandoned lot and charged $5 per ride. Only two Hot Stix were up for the challenge: me and the other single redhead. It was a blast! Who knew Monster Trucks were fun?
2) Speaking of the other single redhead, she has a new name: Bloody Mary. Bet you can't guess what she was drinking all weekend.
3) Speaking of drinking, I didn't let loose. I brought four bottles of wine, and came back with three. I guess there were other things to take up my time, like...
4) The Parade: We practice for over three months to a song we LOVED - So What by Pink. We had new moves. A new costume. And a new sound system. We rocked, the sound system sucked. No one in the audience could hear the music. This was for several reasons: The sound system was mounted on a motorcycle (which most of us didn't want to happen, but...), and a firetruck was behind us in the parade, blasting its siren.
5) Karaoke: The VFW hosts karaoke night every year on Armed Forces Day in Hawthorne. Last year I begged the girls to go with - no one would. This year I talked three into going, and we had a blast. A Marine came over to me and said, "You chose the funnest songs tonight - will you sing one with me?" I had to do my part and oblige the active duty servicemember... we sang "Single Ladies..." and tore it UP in da house, fashizzle.
6) FYI: I also do a mean Snoop Doggy Dog, you know, just in case you were wondering.
7) Old Fuddy Duddies apparently don't appreciate the Snoop.
8) High heels cause pregnancy. Well, at least, we think they do. Everywhere we went, we found young girls in FMPs toting babies around. Who knew that Hush Puppies were the new birth control?
9) Hawthorne shuts down at 11 p.m. - even on a Saturday. The only other single gal and I attempted to have ourselves a single girl adventure after Karaoke. We hit the El Capitan first... and there were only four other people listening to the band, who kind of sucked and were arguing about what to play next. Then we went to Barley's, apparently the best place to party. But when we got there (before 11 p.m.), the band said, "This is our last song," and proceeded to close their set with one of the dumbest rock songs ever. The three remaining audience members-slash-motorcycle gang members couldn't even get that excited about it - and that was after they'd been drinking beer all day long.
Last stop was Joe's Tavern, the next best place to party. The cops beat us there - three cop cars, six cops, and the place was cleared out. So at 11:05 p.m., we found ourselves back in the room, donning our pajamas.
10) Small towns do have spirit. Yes, I make fun of Hawthorne, and you would, too, if you went there. However, there is no denying that the town LOVES its veterans. Visitors come from all over the country to celebrate Armed Forces Day there. The welcoming given to veterans and active service members brings a tear to the eye and a warmth to the heart.
I love going there every year just for that fact alone. Oh, and the karaoke ain't bad, either.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Case of the Missing Silverware
When I first moved into my place, I had no silverware. So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do: I stole a set from my ex.
Okay, I didn’t exactly “steal” it. After all, I bought it in the first place. But, he didn’t have any silverware of his own, so I took one of each: a knife, a fork, and a spoon. I figured it would get me by until I found a set I liked.
I normally get all my wares from the thrift store, but something about buying used silverware squigged me out, so I started scouting my local department stores for a set I liked. I wanted something decorative and hefty. I finally found what exactly what I wanted at Target (one of my absolute favorite department stores). The price was right, so it was mine within minutes.
While I loved the set, I soon discovered that the knives were no match for steak, so I went back to Target and bought a pair of inexpensive steak knives. Even though the price was low, the knives were great. They cut through even the toughest of steak (and you can pretty much bet, if I’m cooking it, it’ll be tough!).
About three months after I purchased the steak knives, one of my salad forks went missing. I use my salad forks more than my regular forks, because I like the size of them better. But, it’s not like I take them out of the house – no matter how much I like ‘em. I began my search in the usual places, starting with the kitchen drawers.
I looked behind the silverware tray, in the silverware tray (just in case I put it in the spoon section or the knife section). Nope. Looked in the towel drawer. Nope. Then, on a hunch, I looked in the refrigerator – could I have stuck it in there by a mistake? Not there.
I looked in the dishwasher (which I don’t use to wash dishes – I use it as a drying rack). Not there, either. I pulled out the refrigerator, not there. I took a flashlight and looked under the stove. Not there either.
Where did the fork disappear to? I figured it would turn up, but two years later it is still missing.
Apparently the fork got lonely, because late last week one of my steak knives went missing as well. I repeated the process I had employed while looking for the missing fork. The search turned up empty – the steak knife seems to have disappeared into thin air.
I honestly do not understand how two pieces of cutlery could just disappear. It’s not as if I take these pieces out of the house, nor do I have a lot of people over for meals. In fact, I haven’t had anyone over for dinner since the last time my dad was in town (approximately a year ago for those of you wondering).
I use the silverware, I drop it into the sink, wash it, dry it and put it away. Where in that process is a gap for it to go missing? How does it disappear from meal time to wash time?
Do I need to get an X-ray to see if I inadvertently swallowed them?
Okay, I didn’t exactly “steal” it. After all, I bought it in the first place. But, he didn’t have any silverware of his own, so I took one of each: a knife, a fork, and a spoon. I figured it would get me by until I found a set I liked.
I normally get all my wares from the thrift store, but something about buying used silverware squigged me out, so I started scouting my local department stores for a set I liked. I wanted something decorative and hefty. I finally found what exactly what I wanted at Target (one of my absolute favorite department stores). The price was right, so it was mine within minutes.
While I loved the set, I soon discovered that the knives were no match for steak, so I went back to Target and bought a pair of inexpensive steak knives. Even though the price was low, the knives were great. They cut through even the toughest of steak (and you can pretty much bet, if I’m cooking it, it’ll be tough!).
About three months after I purchased the steak knives, one of my salad forks went missing. I use my salad forks more than my regular forks, because I like the size of them better. But, it’s not like I take them out of the house – no matter how much I like ‘em. I began my search in the usual places, starting with the kitchen drawers.
I looked behind the silverware tray, in the silverware tray (just in case I put it in the spoon section or the knife section). Nope. Looked in the towel drawer. Nope. Then, on a hunch, I looked in the refrigerator – could I have stuck it in there by a mistake? Not there.
I looked in the dishwasher (which I don’t use to wash dishes – I use it as a drying rack). Not there, either. I pulled out the refrigerator, not there. I took a flashlight and looked under the stove. Not there either.
Where did the fork disappear to? I figured it would turn up, but two years later it is still missing.
Apparently the fork got lonely, because late last week one of my steak knives went missing as well. I repeated the process I had employed while looking for the missing fork. The search turned up empty – the steak knife seems to have disappeared into thin air.
I honestly do not understand how two pieces of cutlery could just disappear. It’s not as if I take these pieces out of the house, nor do I have a lot of people over for meals. In fact, I haven’t had anyone over for dinner since the last time my dad was in town (approximately a year ago for those of you wondering).
I use the silverware, I drop it into the sink, wash it, dry it and put it away. Where in that process is a gap for it to go missing? How does it disappear from meal time to wash time?
Do I need to get an X-ray to see if I inadvertently swallowed them?
Monday, April 25, 2011
Monday Musings
1) Today is my dad's birthday. I wasn't able to give him much for his birthday - but I did manage to get him a few things, which he liked. And of course cake. A birthday just isn't complete without cake.
2) Speaking of cake, a guy I dated for approx. five months who came to my birthday party in November just kind of disappeared around Christmas. This month he announced "officially" via Facebook that he's in a relationship.
He is a good guy, and I am happy for him - but now I know why he disappeared! Mystery solved (although I kind of figured it out already. Just call me Watson!).
3) I am counting the days until Saturday - I haven't been able to sleep in in weeks, and I am SO looking forward to going to bed on Friday night, and turning off all the alarms.... and then waking up naturally the next day.
4) I can't wait to start doing some yard work. If the weather has cooperated, my schedule hasn't. I want to spend some quality time out there... especially now that I have some new garden decorations to put out (thanks, Dad!).
5) I want to have a party. Who knows? If I ever get my yard cleaned up, maybe I can have a garden party.
6) I've been thinking about my own mortality a lot lately. About aging. And life cycles. About serious things, like health and dying and retirement. I need to stop - it's depressing.
7) I'm not really sure how to stop.
8) Today, the receptionist at my chiropractor's office told me I smelled good. She actually bent over toward me, took a big whiff and said "Ahhh..." Too bad she's not a man.
9) If she was a man, she'd probably be too young for me, anyway.
10) I am cougar, hear me roar.
11) A girlfriend of mine invited me out a few weeks ago to hang with a guy friend of hers, who wanted to meet me. She said, "Dress cute!" Since I am pretty good at obeying orders (okay, I'm really not, but let's pretend I am), I dressed "cute." Her guy friend dressed cute as well... that is, if you consider a crocheted rainbow hat, a gold lamé top, a black kilt, rainbow tights, wool socks, and combat boots "cute."
12) I have a feeling you don't.
13) I didn't either.
14) P.S. I don't think he's heterosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that).
15) In my friend's defense, she said she didn't tell me to dress cute for him - she said, "I told you to dress cute because you just never know who you might meet while you're out!" Well, I met a bi-sexual guy, a drugged up old couple, and a bunch of lesbians. I think that night I wasted my cute clothes... that is, unless that lesbian that took my number actually calls.
16) As it's been more than three days - I don't think she's calling.
17) That part was a joke - a lesbian didn't ask for my number. (And I'm insulted that she didn't! --- again I kid.)
18) Good Friday really was good - I got off early, ran some errands, and practiced in the rain. Okay, so maybe the rain part wasn't good. Or was it?
19) I have a steak in the refrigerator for tonight. Good Friday was good - but tonight will be better!
2) Speaking of cake, a guy I dated for approx. five months who came to my birthday party in November just kind of disappeared around Christmas. This month he announced "officially" via Facebook that he's in a relationship.
He is a good guy, and I am happy for him - but now I know why he disappeared! Mystery solved (although I kind of figured it out already. Just call me Watson!).
3) I am counting the days until Saturday - I haven't been able to sleep in in weeks, and I am SO looking forward to going to bed on Friday night, and turning off all the alarms.... and then waking up naturally the next day.
4) I can't wait to start doing some yard work. If the weather has cooperated, my schedule hasn't. I want to spend some quality time out there... especially now that I have some new garden decorations to put out (thanks, Dad!).
5) I want to have a party. Who knows? If I ever get my yard cleaned up, maybe I can have a garden party.
6) I've been thinking about my own mortality a lot lately. About aging. And life cycles. About serious things, like health and dying and retirement. I need to stop - it's depressing.
7) I'm not really sure how to stop.
8) Today, the receptionist at my chiropractor's office told me I smelled good. She actually bent over toward me, took a big whiff and said "Ahhh..." Too bad she's not a man.
9) If she was a man, she'd probably be too young for me, anyway.
10) I am cougar, hear me roar.
11) A girlfriend of mine invited me out a few weeks ago to hang with a guy friend of hers, who wanted to meet me. She said, "Dress cute!" Since I am pretty good at obeying orders (okay, I'm really not, but let's pretend I am), I dressed "cute." Her guy friend dressed cute as well... that is, if you consider a crocheted rainbow hat, a gold lamé top, a black kilt, rainbow tights, wool socks, and combat boots "cute."
12) I have a feeling you don't.
13) I didn't either.
14) P.S. I don't think he's heterosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that).
15) In my friend's defense, she said she didn't tell me to dress cute for him - she said, "I told you to dress cute because you just never know who you might meet while you're out!" Well, I met a bi-sexual guy, a drugged up old couple, and a bunch of lesbians. I think that night I wasted my cute clothes... that is, unless that lesbian that took my number actually calls.
16) As it's been more than three days - I don't think she's calling.
17) That part was a joke - a lesbian didn't ask for my number. (And I'm insulted that she didn't! --- again I kid.)
18) Good Friday really was good - I got off early, ran some errands, and practiced in the rain. Okay, so maybe the rain part wasn't good. Or was it?
19) I have a steak in the refrigerator for tonight. Good Friday was good - but tonight will be better!
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