Breaking News!

Apparently, when you lose weight, you drop a shoe size. I'm at 6.5 now. Interesting. The ring size has also dropped - we're down to a 4 now. My favorite ring is slipping off. Crap.

In other weight loss news, I lost two pounds over vacation. Feel free to send me hate mail.

I spilled oatmeal on my skirt this morning. It looks like I threw up on myself. Just another reason I never buy good clothes. And I was lookin' hot today! Black sweater, black skirt, black tights, new black patent leather heels. I got it goin' on. Except for the oatmeal.

I got a phone number last night at Conor Byrne. Yeah, BABY, I got it goin' ON.

No big plans for New Year's tonight. I may just hang out on Darragh's couch and treat myself to some champagne. Screw the apple cider. We should be able to see the fireworks from his balcony.

Just about 12 hours left in this godforsaken year. Can I get a HELL YEAH!?

I've had three cups of coffee today. Think anyone will notice?

Happy New Year, faithful reader! Here's wishing everyone a fantabulous 2008!!

Who am I?

I'm reading Crazy Aunt Purl's book and a sentence just made me put the book down, stare at the wall and think.

"Thirty-something years old seems like a very peculier time to figure out who you are."

Amen, sister.

Who am I? I started thinking about this. I tried to come up with some simple words to describe myself, but that felt limiting. I'm funny. I'm insecure. I'm single. Blah. That's boring. So I started thinking outside the box.

So, some things about me:

* I've had 22 different homes - 11 between the ages of one and 21 and since age 21, 11 more. Mom says we have gypsy in us. I really want the pretty white house with the big porch and the white picket fence. And I want to stay in it for more than five years.

* I'm secretly worried that I will wear a dent in my mattress because I keep sleeping in the same spot - the middle. The sides of the bed get no action.

* I keep buying yogurt, thinking I need to eat yogurt, but I hate yogurt. Therefore, I waste a lot of money on yogurt.

* I'm feeling pressure to do something important. Like take a class or write a book or rock climb. But I'm having option paralysis so just I sleep a lot.

* I really, really, really wanted a glass of champagne tonight, but I bought a bottle of sparking apple cider instead. It's all gone now. And my tummy doesn't feel so good.

* I keep my cell phone at my side at all times just in case someone texts me. Pa.The.Tic.

* I reached out to Jamie tonight. I called her, told her I was lonely and asked if she wanted to get together. Look at me! She was in for the night, but I'm going over there for the Seahawks game tomorrow. I think I'm growing.....

* I have a security blanket, I kid you not. Actually, I have two. They're from JC Penny's and they don't make them anymore. They have the thick, satin edges and I fall asleep with the satin wrapped around my fingers. I buy these kinds of blankets for every new baby I have to buy a gift for. Passing along the neurosis.

* I've picked up a bad habit of not closing drawers and cabinet doors. I open the drawer, take out a knife to use, and for some reason think I will be putting the knife back so I don't close the drawer. Eventually, I notice the drawer is still open, and I'll close it, while muttering to myself, "Why the hell did I leave that open?"

* I fantasize a lot. That's how I go to sleep. I envision a situation I'd like to happen (a date, a wedding, quitting my job) and I walk through it, detail by detail. Inevitably, this stimulates my brain and actually keeps me awake. Know what the definition of crazy is? Repeating the same action over and over, expecting different results.

* My hands are always, always freezing. I blame anemia.

* I found myself cleaning up Kohl's today. Did I tell you this is why I started therapy in the first place, last March? I couldn't go into a store without cleaning. I would bring the discarded clothes from the person before me out of the dressing room when I'd leave (or sometimes all the hangers that were left on the floor), I would see a shirt that was out of place, so I'd have to wonder around until I found where the shirt belonged and could return it to it's home. I tried leaving some in the wrong spot, but eventually, I would pass by it again and would just have to find it's proper spot. This symptom let up over the summer, but in the last few weeks, it's returned again. Which is why I was shopping for seven hours yesterday. Cleaning takes a lot of time. My therapist and I think this starts up when I feel like my life is out of control. Cleaning is control.

* I also straighten displays. That doesn't take as much time, but it's still aggravating.

Oh, I could go on and on, but I fear I may not be painting the best picture of myself. Let's just stick with I'm a nice person. That's safe to say, right?

Bored Out Of My Skull

Ah, good to be back home.
And bored on a Friday night. How bored, you ask?

Before - pile o' tights and stockings:


After - neatly organized tights and stockings:


Labeled just like my shoes - color on the top line, descriptive term on the second line. Now I can find my fishnets without the hassel! Fantastic!

Actually, I'm quite pooped. I shopped until I literally dropped today. Got a few shirts, another pair of pants, slutty tights (mom's term, not mine) and some leather gloves. Productive day.

I thought I had plans with Cyn tonight, but since I haven't heard from her, I guess not. That's okay. I started a book, Life of Pi, and I've gotten past the hard part (the beginning) and am now officially Into It. This book was a birthday present three years ago and I've tried numerous times to read it, but just couldn't get past the first half. The four hour plane ride helped me get over the hump yesterday. I may finish the book tonight.

Next will be Eat, Pray, Love. My sister tells me I just gotta read it. Well okay fine. Will do.

Home for Christmas, Final Day

The bags are packed
The zippers are strained
In a few short hours
I'll be back on a plane.

Last minute lovin'
From a kitty so sweet
But not too much
Cause I don't wanna sneeze.

Goodbye dear Houston
Not my cup of tea
I long for Seattle
Where I can be me.

I shall eat my tofu
And sushi and soy
No one to mock me
No one to annoy

Curled up in my fleece
Not shorts and a tee
Watching the rain
Just as it should be

A nice visit with the folks
Much needed, I'll say
But it's time to go home
Until another day.

Christmas Boogie

Not sure what happened to the other post. But here we go again. Dad and I, bonding.

Home for Christmas, Day 5

* I awoke at 9am to the sound of rain. Lots of rain. Cow-pissin'-on-a-flat-rock kind of rain. And a little bit of thunder.

* Shower, dressed, coffee, oatmeal, then out to the door. By myself. My godmother was taking me shopping. Look out!

* Sushi, Banana Republic, Express, Ann Taylor, Talbots, Gap and finally.......Starbucks. Ah. New pants, shirt, sweater and dress. And cute, little nighty that I treated myself to. Cause I'm all single and gettin' smaller and one of these days (if I don't piss off kharma again) I will have a reason to wear a cute, little nighty. Dammit.

* Home to figure out how to pack all of these presents. Mom has to give me yet another bag. Which is what I was avoiding because everytime I come home (even when it's not christmas) I end up going back with so much stuff, I need another bag. They're piling up in my storge area.

* Dinner.

* Pie. Oh god, the pie. I've eaten more sweets in the last five days than I probably have since June. Except for the Ben & Jerry's kick I got on in November. Which, due to an exorbitant amount of stress, was very much warranted. Let's not talk about that.

* TV. Lounging on the couch with the cat. Sneezing my head off. But Goober is worth the sneezing. Such a cutie.

* Blog time. Then bedtime. If I can bring myself to turn off the TV before midnight. So many channels!!

Pic of the day:

I didn't take any pictures today, so please enjoy this photo of me. Age 4. Ah, my modeling days. My mom's boss at the time, an amateur photographer, shot a whole series of our family. And they're all just great. I don't know where the rest of them are. I just ran across this one by accident. And mom has a scanner! So no more taking pictures of pictures! At least, until I get home......

Home for Christmas, Day 4

* I am awakened at 9am. Mom's ready to open gifts. She's waited long enough.

* We open gifts. I got foo-foo bath stuff, a hat, a scarf, fleece, picture frame and cash. Can't go wrong with cash.

* Breakfast - at 11am. Dad was getting weak.

* More iTunes coaching. Mom has now bought songs, made two playlists and is almost ready to burn a cd. It's very exciting.

* Lazy, lazy afternoon. Lots of laying around. A perfect day. I brought a book, but have yet to pick it up. But I'm relaxing and that was the goal of this vacation. It's all about me!

* Dinner, entirely provided by Honeybaked Ham. Ham, potatoes au gratin, and baked apples. It was a christmas gift. Made a salad and some greenbean casserole and had pumpkin pie for dessert. I'll be curious to weigh myself Monday at work.

* TV time. Mom and dad actually watched Family Guy with me. And laughed! I can't get them to eat better, but I can get them to watch raunchy cartoons with me. Point for Rae!

* Blogging time. Soon, bedtime.

Pic of the day:

You may wonder why I don't mention dad very often. This is what dad does. He's got a nice little smoking lounge set up out in the garage. And yes, that's a heater at his feet. And cable on the TV. He has all of the comforts of the living room, plus a lovely view of the driveway and the cars.

All Introspective and Crap

So, while I have this downtime, I thought I would babble about some deep, introspective stuff that's been rolling around my mind this week.

You know how I'm not much for the company of women? Well lately, the majority of my friends are women (with the exception of Darragh, who is walking a fine line as he is going to teach me how to make sugar cookies, he tells me I desperately need a Kitchen Aid mixer and he once owned pearls). And these are some very strong, independent, confident, inspirational women. They are making me think and acknowledge things that I otherwise wouldn't consider. And for this, I'd like to give them some props. Props for my homies!

First up, Erin.

Erin is a glaciologist and spends her time either in Alaska, Antartica or Portand. She simply amazes me. I've know Erin for seven years; she's part of the gang. Or, what used to be our gang. The gang has imploded recently, and I am partly responsible for that (hence, the pretty pink pills). Therefore, I was extremely surprised she contacted me when she was in town last week. I thought she had no idea what was going on with the gang, because if she did, she sure as hell wouldn't want to see me.

But she knew. She'd seen Darragh last month. She knew, and she still wanted to see me. There's Erin's first prop.

I told her my story and we got all of that out of the way, then we sat on my couch for three hours and pondered growing up and the suckiness of it all. And she said something that literally slapped me across the face, in a good way.

We were talking about our Christ year. 33. Your Christ year is your pivotal year. Big stuff happens at 33. Erin said she was 33 when she was working on her thesis, getting ready to defend. And she was freakin' out. Someone told her to drop her advisor. Her advisor was like a parent - coaching her through the process, helping focus, teaching her the system. But just like a parent, there comes a point when you have to do it on your own. So she dropped her advisor and went about writing her thesis on her own. And she did great. She got her PhD and we celebrated like lunatics afterwards (there was bondage by toilet paper and an ice contraption that you do shots from. Good times). She said she hit a point where she needed to step out and be independent. And as soon as she did that, she just excelled.

When she said "step out and be independent", I thought of myself, breaking up with Steve. How much more freakin' independent can you get? Leaving a six year relationship and your home? Packing a bag, walking out the door and calling a friend to ask if you can sleep on their couch indefinately? That is some scary shit. There is no net. There is no "just kidding". It was done. And I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. I couldn't think past the current day, let alone into the next week or month. I was making it up as I went along.

And I kept going. I didn't freeze up. I didn't run back to Steve. I kept going. I did what I had to do, even though I couldn't eat and I cried most of the time. I had to keep going. I think that's independent.

Can you believe I never saw that? I never equated "independent" with "breaking up". Until I was talking with Erin.

And then we talked about relationships and the feeling that you need something from the other person. It's like you're reaching out your hands and grasping for them. You need something from them to complete some aspect of yourself. That's a problem. But once you find yourself and accept yourself and feel like you're pretty whole, you can be in a relationship with someone without needing something from them to complete something within you.

I think I was needy with Steve. I needed him to marry me. I needed him to be my partner, and it was very clear for a very long time that he wasn't into that. It's not what he wanted. He loved me. He wanted to be with me. But he couldn't provided what I needed.

Looking back now, I shouldn't have "needed" that. Wanting is fine. Needing is problematic. Just like I tell my parents "I don't NEED a man. I'm very self sufficient (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). But I WANT a man. I WANT a partner. I can do without just fine. But I WANT it." I'm seeing the difference now.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm whole. Who the hell is really whole these days? If you're whole, email me. I'd like to pick your brain and see what that's like. But I'm sure as hell not that needy 20-something year old I used to be. I don't need another person to complete me. Only I can do that. Eventually.

But it would be fun to have someone with which to enjoy my completeness, right?

Oy. Now it's late, so I'll have to give props to the other gals some other time. Stay tuned.

Home for Christmas, Day 3

* Up at 9am, after not sleeping much last night. Not sure why.

* Off to mom's office, where we met her friend Carol and looked at the christmas decorations in her office. They go all out and it is a cut throat competition. Mom keeps me posted on the developments. There's the Hall of Fame and the Hall of Shame. There are categories and very large prizes for each category. Hard to believe they're a bunch of attorneys.

* After touring the office (all three floors) we head to lunch. Afterwards, I get another peppermint mocha. I will not let the peppermint mocha master me. This time, I kept the peppermint mocha down. I win.

* Home to bond with daddy. We watch Bubba Ho-Tep, which I bought him three years ago for christmas but he's never watched it. He liked it.

* Off to Blockbuster Video to rent The Ref. Because I was in a mood. My only solo venture out of the house thus far. I hit Hobby Lobby, too. Just cause I can.

* Dinner. Homemade pizza.

* For some reason, mom and I started going through her junk drawer and we ran across a ton of her old glasses. She doesn't throw them away. They just keep piling up. I couldn't resist a tour through the years.

How were these ever popular?

I look like Joey Ramone:

Yellow? Really?

* Watched The Ref with dad, while having a glass of wine.

Yes, I had some wine. Every christmas eve, Steve and I would go out for a fancy dinner, then come home, open a bottle of champagne and open our gifts. That way, we'd get to sleep in christmas morning, before we headed out to his family's place. I am sad this christmas eve. It's different and it hurts. I think all the first times will be sad. First christmas, first new year's eve, first valentine's day. And oh shit, our anniversary is (er, was) January 4. That should be fun. Once I accomplish all the firsts, I should be fine, but change is weird. Gotta get through the change.

* Mom and dad go to bed, I blog, then hopefully will get some sleep tonight. I'm sure mom will start itching to wake me bright and early tomorrow. I told her she has to wait until at least 8am. Just give me that.....

Bonus pic of the day:

My mother's desk at work. This is where I get it from.

I wanted to take a picture of dad's sock drawer but she didn't like that idea. It was priceless. I put away his socks and hankerchiefs (after folding them like little flags because it makes them laugh) and I cracked up. The drawer is full of gray socks, all folded the same way, all placed in there the same way. Just beautiful.

Home for Christmas, Day 2

* Slept until 11am. Woohoo!

* Got up because I felt guilty.

* Breakfast - kolaches. Love, love, love kolaches. The Texas version normally has ham and cheese, or egg and cheese, or something breakfasty in them. That's good eatin'.

* Off to the Dollar General store. Treated myself to a red fleece and new gray sweatpants. I keep saying, "I need new sweatpants!" but then I think, "No, I need something semi-cute to lounge around in instead of sweatpants. Sweatpants are not hot."

* Home, back into the sweatpants.

* Tech support. Photos won't print (but they do for me!), labels won't print (but they do for me!). Mom curses me out of frustration.

* Football! Didn't get to watch my Seahawks but they beat the Ravens! Watched the Patriots. They won. Big surprise. And the Redskins won! Yay!

* Dinner. Open faced turkey sandwiches. Which mom has to teach me to assemble. I've never had an open faced sandwich.

* Neighbors come by to exchange gifts. I get cash that will go to The New Pants Fund.

* Watch the news. The weather will be a whopping 54 degrees tomorrow. Yeah. Brr. When we were leaving the house today, mom said to get a sweater because it was cold out! 49 degrees. Oooh, scare me. No wonder she doesn't like Seattle.

Pic of the day:

This is a stocking from my kindergarten class. I think it's hysterical that my name is spelled wrong. I think it's even more hysterical that when I mentioned this to my mom, she replied "You wrote that!"

I just looked at her, dumbfounded.

I said, "I was five years old! I didn't write that! My TEACHER wrote that!"

It took my mom a minute. Then she said, "Oh. Right."

Ah, it's good to be home.........

Home for Christmas, Day 1

* Home from the airport at 6:45am.

* Snooze for an hour on the couch, off to breakfast.

* Home from breakfast, regroup, off to grocery store. I could have stayed home, but I was assured this was a quick trip, unlike my visit in June.

* Home from grocery store, shower, into jammies, show and tell.

* Two hour nap on couch, then awakened at 4:30 to go to dinner

* Arrive at restaurant, but restaurant had burned to the ground. Apparently in the last couple of days. Poo. Off to Applebees. Because I woke up and put on a bra so, dammit, we were eating out somewhere.

* Home from dinner, back into jammies, ice skating that mom had taped. And one performance was actually worth listening to Barry Manilow sing most of the time. Mom and I laughed our asses off.

* Folks go to bed. I blog.

Pic of the day:

Home for Christmas, Pre - Day 1

First, let me just say I have awesome flying kharma. I probably just jixed it by actually saying it out loud, but there it is.

Rachelle picked me up at 9pm, and off to the airport we went. At 10:00 we were sitting in traffic, trying to get the departures area of the airport. I started to panic a bit. If the traffic was this bad, what was the security line going to look like? And I was to board my plane in an hour and 10 minutes.

The construction that is taking place at the airport is not helping matters, although the dialogue between me and Rachelle makes for good blogging:

Me, exasperated: What are they thinking, with all this construction at this time of the year?!
R, as if explaining this to a child: Well, I don't think they can unconstruct just for the holidays, Raechelle.

Magically, though, as soon as the lanes split - two lanes for arrivals, two lanes for departures - the departure lanes opened wide and we were one of maybe six or seven cars that were dropping off people. The traffic was from everyone flying in.

And the security lines were non-existant. Most of the lanes were completely empty, so I sailed right through. I stopped and bought water, found my gate, put in my earbuds and people watched. Not much to note except I'm suddenly very attracted to new dads. Especially new dads with facial hair. Weird.

My seat was in the back of the plane so I got on early, got comfy and was pretty much snoozing by the time the drink cart came by. Woke up once or twice, when the iPod playlist would end, so I'd start a new one and pass out again. Made for a quick flight. I didn't check my bag, so when I landed, I went straight out to the pick up area, texted mom, she showed up and we were off. Just like that.

And that brings us to........

So Close....

Ah, it's almost time to hop a plane!

My day got much better at precisely 4:17pm when I shut the door to my office and walked out. I could just feel the tension roll down my back and slide off the back of my heels as I headed for the door. If I had looked behind me, I may have even seen a puddle.

If you think back, I haven't taken much time off of work since the fiasco that is my life took its turn in July. I went to Chicago for a few days (only missing two days of work) and I took a Friday and Monday off in August when I thought I was going to move. And then didn't. I think I am long overdo for an escape.

And to begin the escape, like usual, I got a manicure after work. Now my nails are a pretty, sparkly shade of red. Very festive. It gets me in the spirit.

I went to Duque Salon on old Ballard Ave. Ms. Traveler and I walked by there a few Saturdays ago and asked each other if we had been and, more importantly, how exactly do you pronouce that word? It's "doo-kay".

The manicure was cheap and the paint job is good. Except there are little bubbles now from the top coat. But for $25, I'll live. The atmosphere, however, leaves something to be desired. Maybe I'm just spoiled by Habitude, but I have yet to find a spa that makes me feel as at peace as the upstairs of Habitude. It feels like a ski lodge - deep greens and reds, lots of rich, wooden furniture, dim lights, quiet voices (my technician and I have even been shushed before) and gentle music playing in the background.

Duque feels more like a nightclub. There's thudding music playing low and since the space is big and open, it's very noisy. One particular hairstylist refused to let the hairdryer she was using drown her out so her voice carried throughout the place. The nail station is upstairs, in a very tiny loft, with windows that overlook the salon. But one of the windows is open and glassless, so you hear everything that's going on below. Not serene or tranquille at all.

When I first arrived upstairs, I was asked to pick a polish, which was quite difficult due to the lack of lighting. There was one, little lamp on the corner of the table, so every polish I was interested in, I had to remove from it's bracket, hold it under the light, study it, then grab another one to compare it to. Pain.In.The.Ass.

The technical part of the manicure was fine. The technician didn't hurt me at all when working on my cuticles, which is actually a problem with some technicians. They just jam those cuticles back with no regard to how sensitive I might be. But this woman was very gentle, frequently checking in with me to ask if I was doing okay. Point for her.

The biggest disappointment was, after the hand and arm scrub, I was asked to walk over to the sink and rinse myself off. Wha....? But I'm supposed to just sit here! You want me to walk? All the way over there? And do it myself? Hmmm. Deduct five points.

So, I think if I'm in a pinch, and just want my nails done up all pretty, I'd go there again. But to decompress and start my vacations on the right foot, I'll save my pennies and go to Habitude.

Well. Look at the time!
Rachelle will be here soon to take me to the airport, where I will sit for two hours, jotting down observations and thoughts so I can entertain you when get to my folks'. I need a laptop. You guys would get live blogging from the airport! Maybe I should have asked Santa for that instead of new pants. Crap.

Until tomorrow, au revoir.
Or, since I'm going to Texas - see y'all later!

*shudder*

Scroogalicious

(* = all the times I wanted to type the F word, but didn't because my mother reads this. ONLY because my mother reads this. I am a good daughter.)

If one more * person pops their little * face into my office to tell me there's food in the * conference room, I'm going to throw my * stapler at them.

I am well aware that there is food in the * conference room. I can smell it. Buca de Beppos. Yummy. But I'm not hungry right now. When I get hungry, I will be more than happy to take part in the eating. Apparently, everyone is concerned with my * eating habits. "Have you gotten any food, Raechelle? You are eating today, right?" "Have you gotten yer grub, Raechelle? Ya know, pizza isn't going to kill you!" "Be sure to get some food, Raechelle."

Plus, I'm fighting with Office Max over the stupid * green paper they sent me. I ordered green and they sent me celery. I do not want celery. I want GREEN. There is a difference! My job isn't rocket science here, but dammit, the green paper is IMPERATIVE to my project! It cannot be celery!

I think I'm done for the day.
I declare this work day over and vacation has begun. Woohoo!

Who's with me?

A Poem For You

Oh, December 21
Only 13 hours to go
Then homeward bound
(I accidently typed "bong" the first time. Wonder what that means?)
It's the holiday already
No work to be done
Except for the three emails
With ASAP in the subject line
From my boss
Who's not even here today
Sigh.....
Cupcakes in the kitchen
Cookies on my desk
And in my mouth
And on my lap
Christmas!
Smiles on every face
Even under their masks
RSV in the air
Festive music on the iPod
Garland across the corkboard
Only 12.75 hours to go
Then homeward bound

Hyperosmia

I have a very, very sensitive sense of smell. It's not problematic, but I pick up on things other people don't and can get nauseous very easily at odd smells. And even sometimes at not so odd smells.

Like the lotion I brought to work today. Our clinic is "smell free" zone (which probably has something to do with my sensitivity since I've worked here for over two years). We have policies against wearing perfume or using smelly foo foo stuff. Our patients are going through chemo and we don't want to make them nauseous. So I normally have unscented, Suave lotion in my office. Well, I ran out yesterday and grabbed a little thing of Warm Vanilla Sugar lotion from Bath & Body Works that came in a little gift set last year because it's winter and I wash my hands 20 times a day and not having lotion around is just unheard of.

I love the Warm Vanilla Sugar bath gel in the bath, but the lotion is making me sick right now. It's just not fading. And my concern is that if I smell this all day, and stay nauseous from it all day, when I use my bath gel, I will suddenly dislike the smell, thus forcing me to eliminate a once loved aroma from my arsenal (you should see the basket of bath stuff I have on the back of my toilet. Love, love, love good smellin' bubble bath stuff!) So I need to go wash my hands again to get this smell off, then go hunt down some unscented lotion. Yes, it's a busy, stressful day around here in Raechelle-land.

In addition to smells making me nauseous (I actually had to ask my massage therapist not use the unscented oil on me because it did in fact have a scent that turned my stomach and I had to shower as soon as I got home after every massage), they also have a very powerful emotional effect on me. Some might even say I need to bring this up in therapy.

I've been known to cry when I smell my mom's perfume, Coty Musk, in a public place, or when I get a whiff of.....whatever it is, that smells like my uncle's old shed. I bought a candle for my bedroom because when I sniffed it at the store, it reminded me of someone I miss. But then earlier this week, when I was so sad, I had to put the candle away, because, again, it reminded me of someone I miss. There's a certain cologne, I don't know the name of it, that reminds me of a ex-boyfriend who almost hit me a long time ago, so I get creeped out when I smell it.

The smell of Method Baby Laundry detergent reminds me of Daniela and Jonah, motor oil reminds me of my brother because he was always working on his car and chardonnay reminds me of my sister. BBQ will forever remind me of the Lock & Keel because they smoked their own bbq out back and baking peanut butter cookies remind me of my Aunt Lois because I would go over there every christmas and bake cookies with her.

It's truly amazing my head doesn't explode during the day.

This neurotic post brought to you by Lush. Someone bought me some of their bath stuff a few years ago and I just loved the smell of it. I forget the name. I would always stock up when we'd go to Vancouver, but now there's a Lush store in Seattle! Whee!

S.L.U.T.

We have a new little trolley in Seattle. The South Lake Union Trolley. It took the city a while, but they finally realized its unfortunate acronym (after a group of people made up t-shirts), so now they're calling it a streetcar. So, S.L.U.S.C. This amazes me. NO ONE involved in this project put two and two together and recognized the acronym? NO ONE? These people are making important decisions about our city, but they didn't think of the acronym? Their KIDS probably thought of the acronym.

Anywho, it only took a week for the fun to begin:

New South Lake Union streetcar in collision
The orange South Lake Union streetcar ran into an SUV that crossed in front of it at Terry Avenue and Mercer Street this morning. The street car is back in service despite bumper damage seen here as it heads toward downtown Seattle.

My favorite part of the story: "was caused when the SUV ran a red light and was hit by the streetcar."

I believe it was just last night I was mumbling, on my drive home, because this stupid little street car is right smack dab in the middle of my way and, in my opinion, does nothing but screw up traffic just so people don't have to walk the 1.6 miles to downtown and how is this going to solve our traffic problem when this trolley runs ON THE STREET and the lights are all messed up so that the trolley can make it through the intersections, hopefully not getting hit by any cars.........where was I?

Oh yeah, it was merely a matter of time before the trolley hit some dumbass car that tried to outrun it. And wala.

Again, I have the magical ability to predict the future. You should fear me.

What Do You Like About Christmas?

This came to me in an email, but since I don't like to forward these things (but I do love talking about myself), this is where the blog comes in handy!

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1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper.

2. Real tree or artificial?
Real, now that I'm a Pacific Northwesterner.

3. When do you put up the tree? (I would like to take a minute to acknowledge the term "put up". Steve used to mock me for using "up". Putting up decorations, etc. I say Ha!)
Normally, the weekend after Thanksgiving. But with real trees, it's good to wait until the second weekend in December. Especially because of #4.

4. When do you take the tree down?
Around Valentine's Day.

5. Do you like eggnog?
Oh god no. Drinking raw eggs? Aside from bodybuilders, who does that?

6. What was your favorite gift received as a child?
I can't pinpoint one thing, but I LOVED that there were unwrapped presents under the tree Christmas morning that weren't there the night before. That was the absolute best part.

7. Do you have a nativity scene?
Nope. Don't even have a village.

8. Hardest person to buy for?
My dad. By the time I hear that he wants it, he's already gone out and bought it.

9. Easiest person to buy for?
My mom. If it's got a hummingbird on it, she's getting it for Christmas.

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
The first one that comes to mind is the blue sweatshirt with a very large cat face on the front of it. I was 17. Mom remembers it. I tried to give it to her.

11. Mail or email cards?
Mail, of course! By the way, I mailed my cards last night and you'll just have to excuse the fact that they're metered. Sip-n-Ship was, again, out of holiday stamps and I just wanted to get the damn things mailed. I was even willing to go with the Kwanza stamps, just to stay in the spirit, but no. So they're metered. Please forgive me.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie?
The Ref, with Dennis Leary. Maybe the only Christmas movie with the F word in it. But I only have it on VHS now and I lost the VCR in the break up. Hint hint.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Around November.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Probably.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Chocolate covered cherries and chocolate covered peanuts. And chocolate covered anything, with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate sauce. With a side of chocolate.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree?
Clear, although I have multi colored this year. I'm not happy about it. Long story. But the tree is pretty and that's all that matters.

17. Favorite Christmas song?
There's so many - Christians & the Pagens by Dar Williams, Fairytale of New York by the Pogues, Merry Christmas from the Family by Jill Sobule, Blue Christmas by Elvis.

18. Travel for Christmas or stay at home?
Travel home.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeers?
Um.....Sneezy, Dasher, Brian, Blitzen, Murray, Siegfried and Roy?

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?
Neither. I have a bell-wreath-thing. I improvised. I would prefer a star.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Christmas morning. Although my family always opened one the night before. Or as they arrived in the mail. Cause we're impatient like that.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
The Salvation Army bells outside EVERY FREAKIN' STORE. I still give them money. I just hate those damn bells.

23. What I love most about Christmas?
All of the lights and the chance of snow.

Saddness Rears It's Ugly Head

I've been good for so long I forgot what it was like to sit at my desk and cry. Until about 2pm this afternoon.

I'm not sure what happened. My morning just trickled downhill and by this afternoon I was just sad. I thought the pretty pink pills were suppose to fix that? Maybe this is my punishment for having a few sips of wine this past weekend? Whatever it is, it's thrown me back to that curl-up-in-bed-and-cry-myself-to-sleep place.

This week looks so long and daunting. I just need to make it until Friday. Then Friday night, I'm on a plane to Houston and for some reason, I think once I'm there, things will be all better. For six days I can act like everything is fine and shop with my mom and watch cable with dad. But I'm already dreading coming back to Seattle. Dealing with New Year's Eve. Being alone.

I've been fine with being alone recently. I like myself. Hell, I crack myself up. I am my own best friend. But this lonliness comes in waves. Or shifts, if you will. Four weeks, fine and dandy. Three days of crying. Four weeks, fine and dandy. Three days of crying. Those three days are the longest days ever. I can't wait to get out of work, but once I'm home, I can't wait to go bed, so I can get up and go to work and not be alone. Craziness.

Thankfully, I don't have much alone time this week. I visited with Kim and Milo for a couple of hours this evening, then I called Rachelle to see if she wanted to go to sushi. Sushi always makes it better. Tomorrow, we're walking, then I'm meeting up with a friend who is in from out of town. And, poor girl, she has no idea what's been going on for the past few months. Just wait until she asks me, "So! What's new with you?" I'm not looking forward to that conversation. Or explaining why I'm drinking diet coke instead of jack-n-coke. That alone will throw up a red flag.

Wednesday night is laundry and packing. And Jessica is coming over to hang out for a few hours. Thursday is probably more packing and good TV, so even though I'll be alone, I've got good TV. Then Friday night I leave. So at least I'm occupied this week. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I had every evening to myself. I don't think that bottle of wine in my fridge would survive, that's for sure.

Man, I don't like this feeling. I thought I was past all this. I guess I'll just wait it out. Saddness is like a cold. There's not much I can do about it. Yes, I could take Nyquil (see: wine), but that's only going to mask the symptoms. You have to just let it run it's course and try to make yourself as comfortable as possible (jammies, couch, friends, chocolate covered cherries) in the meantime.

This too, like dinner, shall pass.

Kick Me When I'm Down, Whydoncha?

So I'm sitting here at work, working (really!) but taking breaks occasionally because I hate transcribing minutes from meetings. I type for 15 minutes, take a 5 minute break. Type for another 15 minutes, take another 5 minute break.

On my breaks, I check my friends' blogs. And one of my friends also baked cookies this weekend. But she's a freakin' overachiever so, of course, her cookies are just picture perfect. Seriously. I wonder sometimes why I hang out with her.

Just kidding there Mrs. Traveler........

Finished Cookie Project

Presentation is everything. If the cookies suck, well, at least the packaging is pretty. I'm ready to curl up on the couch now. I've had it with today.

Cookie Update

Now we're on to the chocolate chip cookies. I also wussed out and bought the pre-made kind. But Ballard Market didn't have the Log O' Cookie Dough. They just have the Block O' Cookie Dough with the little precut squares.

Think anyone will notice?

Yeah, me either.
And yes there's one missing because I'VE HAD A ROUGH DAY.

The sugar cookies are as equally disappointing.

Half of them are burnt, half aren't decorated. Martha Stewart would not be proud at all. I just suck this year. I have a reputation to uphold. My image as a domestic queen is in jeopardy.

I may cry. I mean it.

Or go organize something to get my self esteem back up.

I'm Too Nice

I bought new computer speakers today. Funny, I can't justifying buying new pants but I can justify buying new speakers.

These speakers have a subwoofer. The Office Max dude said I needed the subwoofer or the sound would be tinny. Okay, I'll get the subwoofer.

And now I'm freakin' out because I'm sure it's just booming my downstairs neighbor's ceiling. I even put a note on her door explaining that I just got these new speakers and I don't want to be annoying and call me if it's too much. Shaun said the subwoofer needed to be on the floor, but I've got a pillow under it and it's on its side so the speaker doesn't point down to the floor, but rather up in the air. I just don't want to be one of those neighbors.

Point is, I'm not enjoying my music at all. I'm paranoid that it's too loud. I can't rock out.

I want a house.

Cookie Fiasco 2007

Not to be confused with Cookie Fiasco 2006.

I bought pre-made Pillsbury sugar cookie dough this year. No more screwin' around with the homemade stuff. I followed the instructions to make the shapes. Flour the counter, roll it out on the counter. Cut shapes.

But the crap won't roll out on the counter. It sticks to the rolling pin. It sticks to the counter. I added more flour, it still stuck to everything, but now there's white stuff to contend with. What the hell?

So I said (aloud, because I'm now one of those people who talks to themselves all the time), "I will not fight with the cookies this year. It's not worth it. The sugar cookies will not beat me."

I opted to just pinch off a glob of cookie, roll it in my hand to form a pretty ball, and then throw it on the cookie sheet. Once the cookies are cooled, I may think about throwing some colored sprinkles on there. Maybe. If I feel like it.

I will not let the cookies affect me. They are just cookies.

I will just have to send my child over to their little friend's house so their mom can do the whole sugar cookie decorating thing with them. I'll make the candy cane christmas tree ornaments. That will be My Thing.

Errands, Tiny Stuff and Sobriety

My Saturday was not as productive as I had hoped.

I didn't get my christmas cards mailed. The Sip-n-Ship was out of holiday stamps. And I didn't spend all that energy making those freakin' cards, and the pretty return address labels, only to use american stamps. No way. So I'll stop by there one morning this week, when they get more festive stamps in.

I did buy another pair of black boots and two pretty scarfs at Goodwill. That was a highlight. These boots will replace another pair of Goodwill boots that are extremely uncomfortable, so it's not like I'm actually adding to the boot pile. Just substituting. And I'm getting into wearing scarfs with outfits. I kept my pretty, red chenille scarf all night Friday night and it really was pretty warm. So I got this really long, crocheted beige scarf that could go with anything. Hip and warm. I love it.

And I treated myself to a happy meal for lunch. Some people may be embarrassed to 1) even go to McDonald's and 2) order a happy meal at the age of 32, but it's just the perfect amount of food. Even maybe a bite or two too much. Little cheeseburger, little fries, little coke. And I got a toy. Strawberry Shortcake.

After lunch, I stopped into JoAnn's to get bags for the christmas cookies that I'll be making this afternoon. I love JoAnn's. These bags were $.99 with 60%. I got 20 of them. Can't have too many bags.

But then I completely lost it and ended up buying a little tree and little ornaments for my office.

A waste of $12, yes, but come on. That is one cute little tree.

And then last night was the christmas party. I gave Jessica and her man a ride and even, gasp, drove them home. Because I was sober. At a party. Wow.

I nursed a glass of red wine for two hours, then a glass of champagne for two hours. Didn't finish either one of them. Didn't really need to. You know those moment when you're "on"? When people laugh at your jokes and you actually mingle well? That's the kind of night I had. There are nights when I have no umph to leave the couch and I'm tired and I just don't want to talk to anyone (like last weekend's christmas party). But I was actually social last night, so I kept busy. When midnight rolled around, though, I was exhausted. I told Jessica I was leaving and she asked if I was okay to drive. I thought it about it for a minute and said "Uh, yes. How weird." So I ended up taking them home, too.

And now I need to go bake. Well, at some point this afternoon. I'm not motivated right now. Maybe I need a nap.

Small Football Rant

I pulled my ass out of bed for THAT? Holy crap.

First, am I the only one who thinks Alexander just needs to be benched for the rest of the season? Yes, he made one nice run, got some yardage, woohoo. The rest of the time, I just cussed him out because he can't seem to do anything right. Even the commentators are saying that Alexander is not playing up to that big MVP title he got last year. We do have other players who are so much capable of actually running up field with the ball. Why can't Holmgren see that?

Second, the score today was 0-0 until the fourth quarter. That's three hours of my life I will never get back. It was pretty much a battle of defenses. The Panthers finally got a field goal, then the Seahawks decided maybe they should actually play some football so they got a field goal. Then the Panthers got another field goal, okay, we're three points down. But then they got a touchdown (wha.....?) and it just looked to be freakin' hopeless. Then, in the last three seconds of the game, the Seahawks hussled and wow, got a touchdown. WTF? You couldn't do that in the first three quarters?

*sigh*

You know I love my Seahawks. I really, really do. But come on, boys. What happened? It was windy, yes, I know that sucks. But take a look at the Cleveland game! At least there wasn't a foot of snow on the ground!

Anyway. I'm done. They know I'm upset.

But we'll try again next week against Baltimore (4-9). There may be hope. To my parents - don't you dare plan anything for Sunday at 3pm. I get the TV. The big TV. I got football to watch.

Happy Weekend!

You will be happy to know that there is no shit on the fan. Clean as a whistle.

I had the inaugural gathering at Casa de Rae. Just a few friends (the Sheauns, Rachelle and Jamie - my absolute best friends right now) for games and a few episodes of Flight of the Concords. I even treated myself to one glass of champagne because it was a special occasion.

I had every intention of walking down to Ballard today to get stamps for my christmas cards (All done! In the mail soon!) and run a few other errands, but it's windy and chilly and trying to rain, so I may just drive. I hate to do it, but I also would hate to get sick. So there.

Tonight is a christmas/housewarming party at a work buddy's house. This will end up being our Winter Gathering. There have been some changes in the department, so we didn't get funding for any kind for an event this year. That's really okay with me. I was in no position to tackle planning something of that magnitude. This party is mostly work people so they can get their holiday cheer on tonight and I'm off the hook. Perfect.

And tomorrow is the Seahawks game (at 10am. Ug). The weather is supposed to be just as icky, so I think I'll just hole up at home and make some cookies. There are some people at work who have made my life so much easier this year, so they're getting cookies and a nice note. I like to keep those kind of people happy.

Enjoy your weekend!

Very Superstitous

It just occured to me that I'm wearing the same outfit today that I was wearing on Friday, November 2. The night The Shit Hit The Fan. And I'm in an extremely chipper mood, just like November 2. And I'm having people over tonight, and a few of those people are the same people that I spent the night of November 2 with.

You see my problem here, don't you?

I'm very superstitous. What if this outfit is cursed? What if my day just appears to be freakin' fantastic and then at 1:30am, More Shit Hits The Fan? I was so incredibly happy on November 2, but then.....ack.

Maybe it will be different because I won't be wearing the same outfit tonight that I wore that night. That was a dressy night, tonight is a casual, hanging out at my place night.

I think too much, don't I?

Notes From A Cleaning Flashback

When I was just a young neurotic cleaner, probably.....uh.....10?, I remember doing the dishes when I got home from school, so that mom would be proud of me when she got home.

Actually, looking back, I'm shocked that there were any dishes to wash when I got home. Mom always washed the dishes after dinner and then when dishwashers came along, we had to load the dishwasher right after dinner so there were never, ever any dishes stacked up in the sink, NEVER IN THE SINK, or on the countertop by the sink. Anyway....I digress....

So I wanted to wash the dishes for mom and I had seen her using those pretty blue SOS pads that had all that soap in them. How convenient! I ended up washing a ton of dishes using nothing but an SOS pad. I think she got home right as I was finishing up, or I told her afterwards I had used the SOS pad, but I remember her face very well.

"Oh....gee....thank you, sweetie..." There was pride, there was humor, there was exhausion at the thought have having to wash all those dishes again with regular dishsoap.

I just washed my cookie sheet and had to break out an SOS pad. And I thought of that day. I always think of that day when I use an SOS pad. My mama, so proud of her baby girl for cleaning up. I can't remember how she told me that the soap in the SOS pad wasn't for washing dishes, but she got the point across somehow without making me cry because I had done such a stupid thing. And I usually cried when I disappointed my mama.

What's the point of the little story?

It's amazing the things that make me homesick. Like using an SOS pad.

I cannot wait to see my folks next Saturday. I can't believe I made it through this summer and fall without blowing $1000 on a plane ticket to Houston just to get a hug from them. There were days when I would lay in bed, my cell phone on speakerphone and on the pillow beside me, and talk them, and cry to them, for over an hour. And life always seemed so much better when we'd hang up.

Anyway. Those days are behind me. A new year is around the corner.
And I'm out of SOS pads now.

Notes From A Cleaning Bender

Once my vacuum is plugged into the living room outlet, I can vacuum my entire apartment. Without moving the plug. I love that.

Have I told you about my vacuum cleaner? Maybe in the other blog, but not in this one.

Anyway, I have a Riccar 1500P (this is the newer version). I L O V E my vacuum cleaner. LOVE IT. The carpet head swivels, it has cute little attachments in the body of the vacuum, it comes with a hardwood floors head and you can quickly release the main hose/handle from the carpet head so you can suck along the edges of the carpet. FANTASTIC.

I paid an absolute ton of money for this thing. This is when I had my cleaning business and could justify spending half a grand on a vacuum cleaner. Canisters are a bit cumbersome to lug around, but for hardwood floors, which the bulk of my clients had, they are the shit. Period.

I don't have hardwoods; I have berber carpet. Not as gratifying to vacuum because you don't get the little paths like you do in plush carpet, but brand new berber carpet fuzzes alot, so there's still a bit of gratification to see all those little fuzzies get sucked up. And with the christmas tree dropping needles, I vacuum just about every night. Excessive, you say? Ha. You obviously don't know me very well.

(If I could have taken a class in college where I had to write 2000 word essays about vacuuming, I would have soared through school. But alas....no.)

I also Pledge Oiled my coffee table. For a $7 Goodwill coffee table, that baby shines up real nice. It's amazing what oil can do for wood furniture. I don't own alot of wood furniture, but the few pieces I do have just love it when I oil 'em all up (wait......nevermind). The scratches disappear and the stuff just shines. BEAUTIFUL!

And finally, how well do you know me, dear reader?

What is this rag, hanging on the oh so glamorous handicap bar, for?

There may be prizes....

Damn Drunkards

On my way home from work, I pass by the liquor store in Ballard. Sometimes, I look lovingly at the liquor store, catching a glimpse of the rows and rows of colorful, little bottles of happiness and confidence. Other times, I flip it off. Damn liquor store.

And today I found myself rolling my eyes at the car in front of me that made me come to a stop because they just have to turn into that liquor store parking lot right after work. What are they doing tonight that requires liquor? Party? Replinishing their after-work cocktail stash? Maybe they do all of their christmas shopping there, like I did one year.

In any event, I found myself judging this person. I'm not sure if it's jealousy or my new I-don't-need-to-drink-to-be-pretty belief system (see: hypocrite).

Hmmm.
Who wants a glass of wine?

Alive and Kicking!

Yes, I have recovered! Apparently a stomach thing was going around the clinic - I heard all about it when I got to work this morning.

So now I have to get into the swings of things by actually working (ug) and wearing Not Sweats. Craziness!

I'm embarassed to say I miss my Seahawks sweatshirt. And my blanket with the satin edge.

Amazon Wish List

I updated my Amazon wish list, in case you're interested.

Yes, muy productive here in Raechelle-land. I got motivated when I went to rent a couple movies and started saying aloud, "Oh, I need to buy that. Oh! I need to buy that..."

Back to the couch now....

Icky Poo, Day 2

Thanks to a good friend, I got my english muffins and Sprite. However, the stomach is still not happy with life, so I'm home again today.

I hate being home sick. There's so much I could get done with a whole free day off of work, but I don't feel like doing any of it. It's sheer torture. Productivity is just taunting me. At least I get extra time to admire my beautiful christmas tree. It's so dark here that I can justify plugging in the lights during the day.

Maybe I'll go rent a movie. Or three.

SOS

I need Sprite.
And english muffins. STAT.

Maybe some chocolate covered cherries too. For when I'm feeling better. To give me hope.

I'm weak.
Send help......

The Fun Continues

So maybe it wasn't just the mocha. My apologies to kharma for calling her a bitch.

I'm home today. And I just woke up after not sleeping for most of the night. It's gray and 36 degrees. A good day to be curled up on the couch. Although, I feel like I've been doing too much of that lately. Maybe I'll get through season three of Buffy. I think that's where I left off.

Karma

Karma is a little bitch today.

I guess she didn't like me raggin' on Starbucks, although, I was actually ragging on the twits that frequent Starbucks and hold up traffic. I love Starbucks. Love it!

I love it so much that I stopped on my way home and treated myself to my first peppermint mocha of the season. And then I got home and promptly threw it up.

I would like to die now, please.

I called them and told them to double check their milk and whipped cream because somethin' ain't right. I was supposed to go out with some gals tonight to Madame K's pizza to celebrate a birthday, but now just the thought of Madame K's makes me want to puke again.

And my stomach is making really, really horrible noises.

I have learned my lesson. No more blogging about Starbucks.
Ack.

Starbuckers

Every morning, on my drive to work, I come down Westlake past McCormick's and the Starbucks drive-thru. And every morning, I end up playing a game where I have to decide if the car in front of me is a Starbucker or not.

As you're coming down Westlake, there's a light at the Starbucks. And if there is a car turning left at that light to get to the Starbucks, it backs up traffic. So we non-Starbuckers have to decide if the yellow VW bus in front of us is going to try and turn left to go to Starbucks. If we think so, we dart into the right lane to get around the left turners.

I'm not proud of my blatent stereotyping, but hey, whatever makes my drive entertaining, and helps me avoid sitting behind a line of cars trying to turn left at an intersection that is way too busy that early in the morning. Sometimes the cars are polite and put their turn signal on well in advance. But sometimes, they're assholes and wait until we're all stopped at the red light, then as soon as the light turns green, they flip on their left turn signal.

That makes me mad. Because now there's a line of cars flying by me on the right and I can't get around the Starbucker, so I'm stuck and have absolutely no chance of getting through the green light. I have to sit there and wait until it's yellow, then the Starbucker can finally turn left and now I'm sitting through another red light.

So I judge the cars. Work trucks, most pick up trucks and Toyotas do not patronize Starbucks. At least, not this particular one. Hondas, Hyundais and Mercedeses are a crapshoot. Never can tell with them.

But Lexuses, Audis and SUVs always turn into the Starbucks. Yes, always. One of these days I'm going to have someone in the car with me and I'm going to very casually make a $50 bet with them that that Lexus SUV will turn left. And they will, and my passenger will be amazed at my magical ability to predict the future. And I'll make $50.

Now, no need to email and say you drive a Lexus, SUV or Audi and you don't go to Starbucks. I'm just telling you what happens on my drive to work. Same people, every morning. People are creatures of habit. I, too, get my coffee every morning without fail. Except I only spend $1.15 rather than $3. And I drive a Hyundai, so that puts me in that crapshoot category so if I have 10 extra minutes and feel like a treat in the morning, I will pop into Starbucks.

But I put my turn signal on WELL in advance. Because I'm good like that.

A Few Epiphanies

I attended Rachelle's christmas party last night. This was my first, big social gathering since The Shit Officially Hit The Fan the first of November. And since I'm not drinking, I was a smidge apprehensive. Would I be able to be social? Would people talk to me? Would I feel so awkward I would completely sweat through my red, velvet top?

Well, I wasn't too social, people did talk to me, and I hardly sweat at all because it was 29 degrees out and I just couldn't get warm, despite the hot tea I drank all night. And I had a pretty good time.

First epiphany:
I drink because I'm insecure. Period. In big social gatherings, with alot of strangers, I don't feel pretty, I don't feel funny and I can't talk about thesises or politics or referendums because I know nothing about that stuff. So I start slamming back the wine/jack/hot buttered rum.

I had given myself permission last night to have one glass of wine. One. But I never had it. I watched the rest of the group (with the exception of McP and Darragh and Val, a friend of Rachelle's) get absolutely shitty and it completely opened my eyes. I saw one woman, in particular, go through a complete metamorphosis over the span of five hours. When I got there, at 7:30pm, she was very well put together, her hair was styled, she stood tall in her boots and her eyes were bright and smiling.

When I left at 1:00am, her hair was wild, her eyes were half closed, she was slouched on a bar chair and she was damn near shouting. And it hit me - that's me at almost every party.

And that is ugly.

At the end of the night, I was still standing tall, looking good (oh yes I was), steady in my boots and although my eyes were heavy because I was exhausted, they were clear. I drove myself home safely and woke up this morning (okay, this afternoon) feeling freakin' fantastic. I didn't make an ass of myself, I didn't say anything inappropriate (I don't think), I didn't spill red wine on Rachelle's white carpet and I didn't make out with anyone I shouldn't have. Okay, I didn't make out with anyone at all. Poo.

Second epiphany:
I don't eat much at all. Okay, this may not sound like an epiphany to you, but there's more. Rachelle made meat balls, gingerbread, cookies, some cheese log thing, there were chips and crackers and nuts......all kinds of goodies. And I didn't eat a damn thing. Nada. I had some pasta before I left the house, knowing I wouldn't want to go there hungry and eat a bunch of crap, but I didn't have the slightest bit of interested in anything. The meatballs looked good, I can always eat me some cheese, and the bowls of nuts sat right in front of me the entire night and I ate nothing. Well, I had one cashew. Shaun made me. It's a long story.

Think of how many calories I saved by 1) not grazing and 2) not drinking. And then today, I made two eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast (and three cups of coffee.....gotta have a vice) and then didn't eat anything until dinner, just a few minutes ago. I remember not being able to stay out of the kitchen. I would get bored and go through the pantry munching on chips or nuts, then into the fridge to get some cheese, then back to the pantry for another cracker or three. I just don't wanna anymore. Something inside me has just flipped. Maybe I'm in a better space now so I don't feel the need to compensate my unhappiness with food? It's all very deep.......

The true test will be when I'm at my parents'. I tend to graze a lot when I'm there. They always have chips and chocolate and I end up buying cheese and crackers (they're like my security blanket).

Third epiphany:
7-11 rocks. I was out of milk so I walked two blocks to the friendly neighborhood store. I got the milk, then just looked around to see what else they carry in case I find myself in need again. They have Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Frozen Yogurt. I debated for a good three minutes about that one. I ended up getting some pizza rolls (another vice) and a Sunday paper and was pleasantly pleased with my 7-11 experience. I wholeheartely recommend them for your basic grocery needs.

I Think It's Going To Be A Long Time Before I Find Someone Who Will Date Me

So I have a christmas playlist on my iPod. I've been listening to it at work, and I'm listening to it now as I clean. Most of the songs are BB King or Elvis. Those are the only christmas cds I have. The rest of the songs are random. U2's "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)", Jill Sobule's "Merry Christmas From the Family", Wham's "Last Christmas", The Pogues' "Fairytale of New York".

Anyway.

I realized I was skipping over alot of the Elvis songs while the iPod was going. One of the christmas cds I have of his is mostly gospel, and while I like gospel, I don't like to listen it to at work or while I'm in the christmas spirit. So I was skipping through the playlist alot. Which defeats the purpose of having a playlist.

So this morning, I edited the playlist and now only have four Elvis tunes on there. And as I was listening to the songs this morning, Wham's song came on. I hadn't heard it yet while listening to my playlist. There was too much Elvis. Elvis was taking up the whole damn playlist! But now that there's only four Elvis songs, some of the other songs get a chance to play.

And when Wham came on, I swear George Michael sounded especially happy, almost as if he were saying "Thank god you got that fat guy off the playlist! Now we can be heard!" And I actually said aloud, "You're welcome, Wham."

No man will find this kind of cutesy crazy desirable, will they?

Yet Another Odd Dream

I'm in an office building, in front of the elevators, with a very cute, gay co-worker. A girl I knew from high school, Heather, is with us. His normally black hair is gray. Apparently he and Heather dated before he came out but they were still friends. And he was wearing a white captains hat. Yes, it's important.

So then we're on a bus with a few other people. Heather's gone. We're driving up a road that winds along the ocean. And his captain's hat is on the floor. And there's a snake in it. I'm freakin' out yelling SNAKE SNAKE SNAKE and it's small, but it's a rattlesnake. He reached down to grab the snake and it jumped up and bit him. On the inside of his mouth, on his cheek. I have no idea.....

Then, after a while, he started looking sick, so I said we should really find a hospital. I could see (inside his mouth) that the bite had black edges. Again, I think this is an important detail. Somehow I know that there is a hospital just up the road, or just down the road. Oddly enough, I remember this area from another dream (I dream ALOT). But then I ask him, "Wait. Are we in Portland or Los Angeles?" He says "Los Angeles" and I say, "Oh, then yes, I know where we are. Hospital is up this way."

The group, the whole time is a bit annoyed with me because they just want to keep driving, but I'm very worried about him and insist we find this hospital. We ask a nice couple, they give up directions, we're suddenly in a sample sale of lingerie for extremely large breasted women. There's a counter with a very large blond woman behind it and I ask her "Is this the hospital?" She says yes. I ask "Do you have an emergency staff on hand?" She says she doesn't know. Meanwhile, he's laying on the ground at my feet, curled around my legs, looking very sick and pathetic. And somehow he got codine so he's a little out of it [I think the codine is directly from Without A Trace last night. A woman snuck codine that was sewed into her hair scrunchie into a prison for her friend. I never watch that show, but I did and I guess it stuck with me].

Then I tell the blond lady what happened to him and that she should call a code blue, and I ask "Do you even know what a code blue is?!" She says no. [This is directly from Gray's Anatomy last night. Guy's choroidal artery blew (that's the one in the neck, right?) and Dr. Gray was applying towel after towel to keep the bleeding at bay and she finally said to call a code blue and the guy says "Code blue? That's bad, right?" and the other docs get a little miffed at her for calling a code blue when the guy is still conscious.]

Suddenly, he's feeling much better and all is well. Then I wake up.

Don't you guys love this shit?

So, I looked up a couple of pertinent symbols:

"To dream that you are buying or shopping for lingerie, indicates that you are compensating for your inner feelings of emptiness. You may be trying to fulfill some sexual/emotional need. Alternatively, you may be seeking to change your image and attitude. You may feel one way on the inside but behave another way on the outside."

Sounds right on to me. Sure, I'm empty and I have emotional needs. We won't talk about my sexual needs because my mother reads this. And yes, I feel like my image is changing.

"To see a rattlesnake in your dream, represents the passage of time.
To see a snake or be bitten by one in your dream, signifies hidden fears and worries that are threatening you.? Your dream may be alerting you to something in your waking life that you are not aware of or that has not yet surfaced. The snake may also be seen as phallic and thus symbolize dangerous and forbidden sexuality. The snake may also refer to a person around you who is callous, ruthless, and can't be trusted. As a positive symbol, snakes represent transformation, knowledge and wisdom. It is indicative of self-renewal and positive changes."

Again, with the sex. What the hell?

Enjoying the Freedom

Shaun took me out for indian food last night and I had lamb. Tender, juicy, tiny little pieces of lamb. Yum. It's just one of the many ways I'm asserting my new singleness.

Other ways include:
Belching. A lot. And then I giggle.

Putting mushrooms in everything. I keep a big bag of them in the fridge. I especially like them in salads.

Listening to country music very loudly.

Not muting the chiming feature on my Quicken so everytime I hit enter, you hear "Cha-Ching!"

Deep bowls. They would be horrible for cereal. Just horrible.

Letting my alarm (which is the radio) play from the time it goes off at 6:30am until I decide to roll out of bed, usually around 7:00am. No more shutting it off quickly for fear of waking someone.

Wearing the same thing every evening after work - gray sweatpants, red t-shirt with my blue Seahawks sweatshirt over it.

Chewing with my mouth open. Especially when I'm eating tortilla chips. This is just at home, when I'm feeling all superior. I still have good manners.

Slurping my tea. Again, just at home.

Using Method Green Tea foaming hand soap.

Sprawling across my queen bed. But that's just a given.

I think I'm relishing in my alone time more these days. Alone time used to mean sad, boring, unloved, lonely, pathetic and pitiful. Oh, but no more! I still get bored. I still get a little blue and wish I had someone to snuggle with on the couch. But if you pile up enough blankets (especially the ones with the satin edges) it's almost as warm. Pop in a Buffy dvd and hot damn, that's a good time.

I'm also flying through my magazine project. I'm down to maybe five or six magazines that I still need to go through, out of 40. Now I just need to get some sheet protectors and then slide the pages in the sheet protectors, then categorize them and file them appropriately in the designated three ring binder so that when I need to know what face cream is good for combination skin in the summer and also has SPF but yet won't clog pores, I can flip right to that page!

Okay, maybe I'm still a smidge pathetic. Just a smidge.

Justifiable Purchases Even When You Only Have $33.68 In Your Checking Account

Sweater shaver. Because it makes all of my Goodwill sweaters look non-Goodwilly.
Only $10.

Dryell sheets. Because I'm too lazy and cheap to take my clothes to the dry cleaners and my black turtleneck sweater was starting to stink.
$11.

Chocolate covered cherries. Well duh.
$3.

iTunes. Because they're only $.99 a piece so they're practically free.

MorningStar Veggie Sausage Patties. Because I LIVE on them. They are pretty much my only source of protein.
$4.

My New Project

I think I'm going to create a new magazine.
And title it - "You Will Never Be This Pretty".

I was flipping through the magazines in the kitchen while my lunch was heating up and it's just sickening. They have an article on "Love Your Body!" but throughout the article are ads with wet, half naked, size 2 women in them. So they're saying, love your body, but you really should look like this!

Regardless of how much weight I loose, I will never be a size 2. Ever. I have wide, childbearing hips, a large bosom and thighs that, if you piss me off, I can crush you with. I am curvy. Period.

Yes, I like being smaller. Because I was hovering around 150 there for a while and I just felt like I was hangin' out all over. But even at 150, a few people still said I was sexy (I think it's just the hair. They boys LOVE the long hair.....) Now that I'm a little smaller, I'm more confident and I don't feel so uncomfortable. It's easier to cross my legs, my bras don't dig into my sides and my pants don't pinch at my waist.

So, even though I joke about my clothes being too big and all this weight I'm loosing, it's not because I want to look like those ugly stick women in the magazines. I'm not striving to get down to 110lbs. Honestly, it's just a nice perk that's come with this new life I've been thrust into.

And I feel more beautiful right now than I ever have before.
(except for this damn pimple on my chin)

One Thirty Two

Are you tired of hearing about how much weight I've lost? If so, skip this post.

Since it's 56 degrees here today, I thought I'd revert back to semi-summer clothes and break out the khakis (I don't care about that whole light pants after whatever day crap) . So, I put on my very favorite Bass khakis that I haven't worn since August, and well, they just look silly now. I think I'm probably down 3 or 4 sizes. Rachelle gave me a pair of size 10 jeans, because she's dropping the weight too, although she's working her ass off for it, and after wearing them around the house last night, they're just falling off of me. Most of my pants are 12s and now they all have safety pins in the side.

I've come to the conclusion that my life used to revolve around food because I was bored with everything else in it. I would be eating breakfast at work and already thinking about what I was going to make for dinner. And if I was going to cook, it was going to be An Event. Complete with a bottle of wine and dessert. It's a total girlfriend/wife thing. Providing meals for your man. Being the planner, the nuturer. Is that a word?

I actually slipped into that mindset a few months ago when McP came over to watch a movie. I started planning a dinner. And it was stressing me out. I called him to see what he wanted and he said "Um, you don't have to cook. It's just a movie." Oh. I don't need to feed you? Huh. Okay. That makes life a little easier.

I don't know what my life revolves around anymore (my couch? blogging?) but it's not food. Dinners aren't that big of a deal anymore. I'm happy with pita chips and hummus. The pretty pink pills do require that I actually eat dinner because I can't take them on an empty stomach, so I guess that's a good thing. It gets me eating whether I want to or not.

And I'm sure the lack of jack-n-cokes isn't hurting either.

I Don't Need No Stinkin' Man

I got a christmas tree tonight. A seven footer. ALL BY MYSELF.
(This is the best picture out all 20 that I took. It's not easy to get a non-blurry shot of a lit tree.)

I carried that baby up to the register, I carried her to the car, I crammed her in the car, I got her in my apartment (in the torrential downpour, thank you very much), I put her in the stand, I held on to her with one hand while I twisted the little bolt thingies to hold her in place and I put the lights on her ALL BY MYSELF.

Men? Ha! I laugh at men!!
(Except when I lay down in bed at night and it's really cold and no one has warmed up my side.)

Ahem! Movin' on!

A brief tour of my decorated home.
These are the candy canes that mom made when I was seven years old. We had just moved to Texas and we didn't have a lot of money for fancy decorations. So mom bought a bunch of pipe cleaners and white beads and we made candy canes. If you knew my mother, you'd be impressed. Crafty she is not. She also made trees out of triangle foam and green pipe cleaners. I think she still has those.

This is my great grandma, Mabel.

These are the waxy, sticky things someone made (Candy?) back when I was a toddler. I have the small set, mom still has the big set. I also have pilgrims and turkeys for thanksgiving, rabbits and eggs for easter, a witch and ghosts for halloween and a Snoopy and Cookie Monster and some little birds. Actually, I don't remember what happened to Cookie Monster and the birds. I think Snoopy is still on the fridge at the folks.

My anti-christmas coasters and pretty new candle holders.

My Martha-Stewart-every-department-store decoration. So simple, so beautiful. I almost broke myself last year trying to find a damn vase to hold these balls. But finally! At Value Village! And I just noticed that the vase is not centered on the table. If I had any energy at all (and wasn't about to fall asleep) I would fix it, take another picture and post that one. But alas, I don't have it in me. Just know that it bugs me, too.

My glass snowman that I intend to fill with something red and green so he's got some substance.

And even my bathroom is festive.

Earning Our Reputation

tor·rent

1. a stream of water flowing with great rapidity and violence.
2. a rushing, violent, or abundant and unceasing stream of anything: a torrent of lava.
3. a violent downpour of rain.
4. a violent, tumultuous, or overwhelming flow: a torrent of abuse. –adjective
5. torrential.

Holy crap, what a Monday.

The rain started yesterday morning, and it just hasn't stopped. Normally Seattle just gets a mist or a drizzle, but this is flat out Torrential Rain. I liked the snow much better.

Apparently the power went out or had a glitch last night because my alarm didn't go off this morning. I woke up at 8:10am. I rushed around to get ready, ran out the door and then crept along my route to work. My normal 15 minute drive took me 40 minutes. Westlake was closed due to mudslides, you couldn't even drive in the right lane because of the standing water and I got absolutely soaked from my knees down just walking from the parking lot.

Totally not worth the drive in. And I have to do it all over again this evening.

And my damn lightbulb in my desk lamp burnt out. Crap.

On the bright side - my boss isn't in today. Jury Duty. Woohoo!

Good Freakin' Morning

I've been awake since 8am. And I'm not at all happy about this.

Apparently one of the side effects of the pretty pink pills is that two hours after I take them, I keel over and fall asleep. Deeeeeep sleep. And then I wake up at 7:30 or 8am. This goes against everything I believe in. I like my sleep. So to roll over and see that it's not even 9am yet, well.......that just makes me unhappy.

On the bright side, the Seahawks are playing at 10am this morning, so at least I didn't oversleep and miss part of the game.

And it's snowing again.

Snow in Ballard