Sunday, August 30, 2009
It's "Spinning" by Jack's Mannequin. My friend Lisa introduced me to it and I've loved it since my ears first heard the chorus.
As I was running the other day, this song came on and all I could think of was how much my life feels like this song right now.
I've started to see a therapist - mostly inspired by ghosts from my past and the desire to not be France.
Three things you might be interested to know about therapy are:
1) the couches are less comfy than you might think,
b) I don't think they allow you to lay down on couches anymore but I haven't worked up the courage to ask yet, and
iii) it's a lot of hard work. Because while the session is only 1 hour long, the progress really happens in the weeks between the sessions.
The result? Since I'm questioning multiple things about my life and my decision making capabilities right now, I'm finding that I'm more unsure about things that I normally not think twice about. Me being unsure means that I keep thinking about all the possible different solutions to whatever problem I'm facing. Over-thinking is putting it mildly, but I can't shut my brain off. The best way for me to explain it is when you start to learn that 1 + 1 is not 2 (as you've always believed), but 3, it's hard to grasp. Because not only does 1 + 1 equaling 3 blow your mind, but does that mean that anything you THOUGHT was 2, not really 2? And what happens if you add 1 to that? What number does that equal?
My mind churns and churns.
I'm making progress. I am. And I'm excited. Because at the core of it, the new things that I'm learning or re-learning opens a lot of possibilities. But I'm also more sensitive than what I've been in my life, or maybe I'm just in tune with my emotions more than I have been. I'm more unsure of myself so I'm finding myself looking to others for stability, acceptance, motivation, consistency, and warmth. And I'm probably needier. Scratch that. I know I'm needier. My goal is to try to spread that out to as many people as possible until I feel grounded again, which I hope is very soon.
Until then, I guess I'll just spin.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Him: OMG! A girl just emailed me saying that she was looking for a platonic relationship!
Him: That's the one where they want another person in the relationship, right?
Me: No. You're thinking of polyamorous. Platonic means that they just want a friendship.
Him: Oh. (shuffles off slowly)
And then I walked in my back door to find more pee everywhere.
That's right. Chassis has regressed back to issues from over a week ago - just two days after she had finished the antibiotics.
So, this morning, she's at the vet's office. Hopefully they'll be able to make sense out of her situation and why she's showed some improvements but didn't make a full recovery. In the back of my head, I'm remembering the ER vet's thoughts - because she didn't have enough white blood cells to indicate an infection, she could have a blood disorder, an immune deficiency, stones in her bladder, or masses in her bladder. She still isn't showing signs of the blood disorder and the ultrasound cleared her for problems on the last two. That leaves an immune deficiency issue. There is also the thought that she might not have been on the antibiotics long enough or that the ones that she was on weren't the right ones to get rid of the bacteria she has.
At this point, I'm not sure of what options are available. But strangely while I was devastated last week, I'm calm this week. I'm sure that it has something to do with that I've thought a bunch about what choices I would make if the ultrasound showed some issues. I feel somehow guilty about the calm.
I do know this: I want to make whatever decisions come next with all the love that I can. She has been a great dog and I'm confident that I will make the right choice, whatever that may be.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Two weekends ago, he opted to pick up on a friend's friend. She was at the bar with all of them and was getting drunk. One thing led to another and he took her to his place. Another thing led to another and apparently he had his shirt off. At some point in the night, he mentioned that he liked a vampire series that was on HBO. So when his shirt was off, she whispered seductively in his ear, "I want to suck your blood."
He thought she was kidding.
What ended up happening is that he had a MASSIVE bruise on his arm and bite marks on his neck. The bruise has faded to that yellowish/brownish color...and he actually was worried that it was starting to grow. So outlined parts of the bruise with a permanent marker to determine if it was growing day to day. The result is that it looked like a big yellow circle. And that's when he showed it to me.
So I BEGGED him to let me make it better.
And I did. See?
Again, nothing other than a black permanent marker was used. That yellowish color? All his/the vampire's doing.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
So I'm starting with baby steps. I'm looking for recipes that have only a few ingredients and are simple enough that a four year old could make it. I figure I can dumb it down from there.
Tonight I opted to make what SEEMED like a very easy recipe. Cordon Bleu. Let me tell you that it is NOT so easy. Because first you have to pound out chicken. I thought that would be easy until I realized that I don't own a pounder thingie. So did what every woman wants to do in their 30's. I called my mom and begged for help. She suggested that I put the sliced chicken breast halves (which by the way is also not easy) between two pieces of Saran Wrap and then pound it lightly using the edge of a plate. Since I don't like shards of plate in my chicken, I opted to do the Saran Wrap thing and then just pound it using my fist.
I need to get a pounder thingie.
Anyway, I did it. I cooked something for dinner that I haven't cooked before. See?
I know...the chicken thingies aren't the prettiest. I know...the cheese is supposed to not ooze out. And they probably should be more uniform. But they taste fantastic. And what's more, I MADE them.
*Actually, I'm a decent baker. I make cookies, some pies, muffins, and breads from scratch. I'm good at that kind of stuff. And to be honest, I've made a few Thanksgiving dinners with all the fixings. So I know how to make SOME stuff...just not like sophisticated dinner stuff. Or even normal dinner stuff.
P.S. Slightly off topic, but I refuse to see "Julie and Julia." I kind of want to see it because I want to support the idea that blogs can turn into books or movies. While I personally don't feel I have enough talent to do either, I am all about supporting people who do. And I like Amy Adams. But really? Meryl Streep has ruined a lot of movies for me and I just don't get the appeal of her. In fact, one time, when I saw her in a movie with Kevin Bacon, I remembered wishing he would just hit her with an oar or something already. I find her annoying. "Mamma Mia" had me cringing the whole time...and I heart ABBA.
Friday, August 21, 2009
ANYway, I once said to her something about this guy being her boyfriend. And she said something like, "Oh, honey. When you're my age, they're not called boyfriends."
So my question is, at what age do you stop calling someone you're dating exclusively a boyfriend? At what age do you start to just call him "my friend" with a wink and a nudge?
And really, at what point in the relationship do you start describing someone as a "boyfriend?" Because really, unless you're in a poodle skirt and are wearing his high school ring, does anyone ever really ASK to be your boyfriend anymore? Instead, isn't it usually a slow slide into familiarity where eventually you're just doing stuff with them each weekend and then it's just assumed that they're your boyfriend/significant other? And is that sad - that the slow slide into familiarity breeds this term that neither one of you are sure you even WANT? When does the conscious decision making happen?
And since we're talking about it, I always felt like the term "significant other" was reserved for those that were living with each other. Because of that, I don't think I have ever called a boyfriend a significant other. "Partner" is usually reserved for those that are GLB, for those in dance classes, or those that are owners of a company - am I right?
Chime in please - even lurkers! Because I simply can't figure out the terminology. Clearly, I need you.
P.S. I feel that it's only fair to disclose that I am in a something with someone right now. Believe it or not, this post was not driven by my desire to figure out my own relationship terminology. I'm happy to call him "the guy I'm dating" for now. Sometimes, I even call him by his name. :)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Anyway, because of the scheduling of the ultrasound, I had to cancel my long awaited trip to visit my friend Mike in Seattle. So I called Mike yesterday to explain what was going on (I let him know Monday that it was iffy) and to apologize. We laughed, we talked, we planned on when I can come to his place again. I am bummed about it, but I am so thankful that Mike and his wife are understanding.
At one point, I thought that my iPhone had dropped the phone call because I heard a series of beeps. So I said, "Ohmigosh. Did I just lose you?" And since there was no immediate answer, I shouted, "MOTHERF*CKER!"
And then he said, "Uh, no. Still here."
Apparently, I was getting another call. And all I'll say about my foul language choice is that yesterday was a bit of a tough day emotionally - Chassis stuff aside - so I was justified. Also, technically, he has fathered two kids. So he IS one. I'm just saying.
Anyway, fast forward to today, when I opted to sign into Facebook to wish my friend Jo a happy birthday. And that's when I saw that she wrote on Mike's wall. So I jumped over to his wall only to find out that YESTERDAY WAS HIS BIRTHDAY.
So on his birthday, I call him up, cancel plans, call him a motherf*cker, and then don't wish him a happy birthday. Yeah. Apparently I'm that kind of friend.
You're welcome, Mike.
Monday, August 17, 2009
I'll try not to do that to you again. :)
The main reason I haven't updated was that I went camping on Thursday morning with a great group of people. There were some fun times, some frightening times, and some sleepy times. We laughed, we swallowed river water unexpectedly, and for a select few, we puked (please note that I was in the first group only). There are some good stories that I'm sure I'll share later. Access to email/phone was limited (town population was under 500 so all I had was my iPhone) so posts simply had to wait.
I came home last night (sunburned, hungry, and in need of a shower) only to find that my dog had been peeing all over the house and was sick. Peeing blood sick.* So after over 4 hours in the animal ER (Hello, Alameda East!), we know that she either has an immune deficiency, bladder stones, a blood disorder, or a mass in her bladder. Or at least that is all that the ER vet thought that could be wrong. Urine tests indicate that it is not a UTI. We gave her antibiotics and pain meds anyway which might or might not help. My vet is guessing that it will not help; however, I remain hopeful. Because basically NOT doing something drives me crazy. And besides, it looked like she was in pain.
I had alarms set every two hours to prompt me to get up, get her up, and make her go potty. In addition to that, I'm not sure how much I slept because I was checking on my dog all night long to see if she was okay. She wet her beds a couple of times while sleeping, so I kept checking to make sure that she was at least all right and that the rug was dry.
But I'm scared and I'm worried. I don't really know what the right next step is. I'm concerned about cost and about possibly quality of life. I'm overwhelmed at the thought of what I will do if she doesn't get better. I'm scared that I won't have anyone to lean on and completely lose my shit around if she does need to be put down. My normal vet is working on figuring out what our next plan of action might be. So I'm concentrating on the choices I have to make right now...and when I start getting anxious about what might be, I remind myself that I do not have to make that decision right now. I'm doing a lot of deep breathing.
But I'm still scared. And I'm still worried.
I'm so glad that I'm able to love on my dog and that I'm not still out of town. But I'm not very funny today...and I'm hoping you'll forgive me for that for just a little longer.
*Yes, my dog had a dogsitter that came over and stayed for hours twice a day. Although Chassis had an accident in the house with peeing and having some blood, she thought I'd be home in the afternoon and could take her to the vet if I wanted to. She's a cute little 20-something girl so I feel slightly bad for wanting to break her legs. When I finally got ahold of her last night, I had to do a lot of deep breathing so I didn't just yell. She didn't know it was that bad and she didn't know it would get so bad so quickly. I remind myself of those two things often. And when that doesn't work, sometimes deep breathing is all I can do.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
A new mother of what, you may ask? I don't know. But it's the only logical explanation that I can come up with right now. In fact, today marks morning #3 in a row that I've had 5 hours of sleep or less. Getting 7-8 hours nightly is ideal for me. And I'm not going to lie to you, I'm not exactly chipper and full of cheer this morning.
I've been thinking of people that I can blame this on, and so far I'm coming up with no one, which in my opinion, really isn't fair. Sure, it can best be blamed on time management, the fact that I'm trying to get everything ready for a camping trip tomorrow, and that I'm struggling with some issues...but those reasons all come back to me. And I can't be liking that.
To make matters worse, I was supposed to have a date tonight - one that I really have been looking forward to. And maybe it's fate because I recall saying a few weeks ago to him when we were talking about people being too tired to mess around, "I can count on one hand how many times I've been *that* tired." Right now I'm so tired that he could listen to Nickleback songs and I wouldn't care. I KNOW! That's what I've been trying to say! It has reached drastic measures! So, if you care to, please send condolences cards to him (re: the good time we would've had tonight).
Monday, August 10, 2009
I saw that Whitney Houston is coming out with a new album and happened to click on her "Greatest Hits
ANYway, when I was in 4th grade, our PE teacher made us pair up and do some little dance to any song we chose.*** I can't remember who my partner was (either Leah or Teresa) but I remember who it wasn't. It wasn't Robin. Robin and I were friends but she picked another girl (either Teresa or Leah) instead of me. Thus I had to beat Robin in a dance-off. Even though she only had one leg. What can I say? I'm competitive.
So it came time to pick songs and my group picked either "How Will I Know?" or "Greatest Love of All" - I can't remember which one but I know that Robin's team picked the other one. I remember that I totally wanted the song that Robin's team picked and I felt that it was unfair that they got to have it and we didn't. I'm not saying the one-legged thing played into it, I'm just saying it clearly wasn't fair.
Long story short, we danced. And whichever dance we danced, my team was clearly the best one. It was full of literal acting out of the words...and as everyone who has ever seen "Fame" knows, that is the best way to dance. I think we can all agree that my superior dancing/acting skills should've beaten Robin's team. But, I'll be honest. I don't remember which team won.
One thing is for certain: it had either Leah or Teresa on it.
* Yeah. I went there.
**After that, my dad started marking his tapes with his initials. Yes. My household was crazy thankyouverymuch.
***And actually, I'm not quite sure what that was all about. I mean, it wasn't like we got to see any other teams dance so I'm not sure if it was an extra credit type thing or if we all just danced for him individually. But if we were dancing for him individually, then where were the other kids?
Friday, August 07, 2009
She is standing behind me, saying loudly to her pal: GAH! I can't believe we're this far back in the pack! I mean, we totally deserve to be up there. Just look at those people. We're obviously faster than them! I mean they have KIDS up there for Chrissakes. GAH!
Her pal: I know. This is so stupid.
So I turned around to look and what I found were basically two women who looked like Skeletor. They were very thin and I'm sure that they probably WERE faster than all of the people in front of us. So I said "Here. Feel free to get in front of me. I'm sure you are faster."
They sighed, didn't say thank you and pushed in front of me.
I found myself wondering if they REALLY think that no one could hear them? Did they care? I mean, did they really think that them throwing a hissy fit at a 5K for charity was appropriate? I guess so. For the next five minutes I saw them basically push their way to the front of the pack. From the looks on people's faces, it seemed that they offended quite a few people.
Now this 5K had kind of a weird route where you actually had to run kind of a lap and a half around the park (the route kind of looked like a paperclip). They encouraged all of the people to, as you came to the end of your first lap, get on the left side of the path so that the faster runners could pass by. I wasn't sure how fast these runners were, but the last thing I wanted was to have some skinny chick slam into the back of me because I wasn't enough to the left. So I ran on the left side of the whole course...just in case. I guess I felt a bit intimidated.
This race had a rule - one that I've seen in every other set of directions for 5Ks - NO HEADPHONES (as I found out, no one else pays attention to this rule). So I ran, with my Nike+ feature on my iPhone, to no music. Having no music to listen to means you have some time to think. I won't bore you with all of the things that I was thinking about, but I will say that there were many moments where I promised myself to not be like those ladies (and I use the term loosely) at the front of the pack. No matter how good or fast I think I am at something, I need to have some humility. Some grace. Some decency. Some consideration for others.
By the way, it was around this time that I realized that I was getting my ass kicked by SPEED WALKERS with the median age of 93. Seriously. Those people are FAST! It occurred to me again that you can't judge someone by how they look. Well, sort of. I mean, the speed walkers DO look funny when they're speed walking. :)
So fast forward to the end of the race. I'm about a 10th of a mile from finishing and one guy, who had clearly already finished the race, was walking back towards us shouting to all of the runners. As I got closer, I could make out the words that he was saying:
"Way to go! You're almost there! Don't stop now! Keep up the pace! You're doing great! The finish line is just up the way - you've only got a 10th to go! Keep going!"
I got chills.
I picked up my pace.
Had I been able to talk between my huffing and puffing, I would've told him how much it meant to me that he, who had already put in his effort and finished, thought to encourage others. It would've been easy for him to have a celebratory banana at the finish line, to high five his friends, and pat themselves on the back for their undoubtedly fast time. He could've mocked us or thought to himself about how superior he was. But he didn't.
He was thoughtful. Compassionate. Enouraging. Motivating.
THAT is the person I want to be.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
So a couple of weeks ago when my mom came into town, I decided to have this be a project that we could work on together. We decided to go to Home Depot and consider all of our options. One kind guy suggested that I put up this black filament to have privacy. And I was all "Uh, yeah. That's an option, but I was kind of thinking of something prettier." So he suggested metallic sticky paper to put up on them. I thanked him for his time.
In the end, we ended up getting these cans of spraypaint that basically give the windows a "frosted" look. If I decided to remove this, all it would take is a vat of acetone. Easy peasy! I used to work in the paint department of an automobile factory so I know a thing or two about painting. I figured I had this in the bag.
It turns out I did not.
My mom being a school nurse who clearly cares about inhalents**, was VERY concerned about my inhaling the paint. So before we started I had to have the doors open, fans on, and then she would ask me to hold my breath. Like, I'm perched ON A LADDER trying to make the most even strokes of spraypaint ever and my mom is shouting "ARE YOU HOLDING YOUR BREATH? ANNE! ANNE! THERE IS NO WAY YOU'RE STILL HOLDING YOUR BREATH. COME OUTSIDE SO YOU CAN BREATHE!" All I'm saying is that my painting style did not end up being as good as I had thought. In addition, my mom would switch on the fans in the doorway of whatever room I was spraying to try to help move the air out. No amount of me telling her that that is actually sucking the spray towards her/me/the room would make her stop it. The cycle went like this: I switched the fan off, started spraying, she comes in and turns the fan on while helping me remember to hold my breath, I eventually go outside between coats to breathe and then go back inside to apply another coat and inevitably inhale the cloud of fumes that surround the window. Rinse. Repeat.
The result of the windows? I'm not sure.
Here is the same window with the same amount of paint on it - just at two different times of the day. You can see that at different times of the day it has more privacy than others.
I kind of do like it - because it allows for light to flood through my place and still gives me some privacy. It's much better than how I was living - which is with the blinds drawn feeling like I was in some sort of cave. Besides, if I'm going to live in a cave, then I'm going to have to become a full-time superhero. And that's just taxing at times.
*Alright, I don't wear either...and trust me, that's even scarier.
**And yet she smokes. (sigh)
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
I'm just saying that dating sometimes really sucks.
In case you don't believe me, examples of how creepy/sucky dating is can be found here, here, here, here, and here. And can I just say that it was hard to only pick 5 posts.
And THAT is why I don't do online dating anymore.
In other news, I'm joining a convent.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Our offices are located right next to some main headquarter/official gathering place for a pizza delivery service that rhymes with Schmapa Schmohn's. I used to like pizza from this place. But that was before I saw the "managers" gather at our offices once a month. While I've never worked for that company, it is clear that there are two surefire things that will move you up in the company: your ability to chain smoke and your ability to wear ill-fitting clothes. The guys wear pants that are one or two sizes too big such that they gap and bunch over their shoes. The women wear pants that are a size or two too small...sort of looking like sausage stuffed in some faulty casing. It is, in a word, HOTT.
And the cigarettes...oh my word, with the cigarrettes! They seriously smoke two or three cigarettes each in a 20 minute break and really? ALL OF THEM SMOKE. They come to these meetings wearing sweat and pizza topping stained polos, picking their noses and shooting snot rockets on the ground.
I'm not so naive to think that the employees of my favorite pizza place would be doing something different, it's that I don't have to SEE the people that make my pizza do it.
ANYWAY. Today, Papa Schmohn came to this location. They baracaded the parking lot, had a news crew here and allowed people to belly up and get their pictures taken with THE John that started it all.
They had blow-horns, sparklers, photo ops, and a baby poop gold colored Camero that they could pose next to.
It was, in a word, creeptacular.