Scraping and Rasping

Not home improvement, no. Teeth cleaning. They actually used a device today that looked VERY like a rasp. A very small, very thin (such that it could slide between teeth) thing, but a rasp nonetheless. And my teeth, they do feel very clean. Bit nekkid, but clean.

First thing I did when I got home? Finished off the last 3 bites of Cinnamon Bun ice cream in the freezer.

I really don't have any other tales to tell. Tonight will be the last night of the overnights, apparently, so I have no clue what I'll be working for the next week. Everyday is an adventure!

I do know I'm off for the next two days. Friday is a payday and I have some stuff callin my name at REI, so there you go.

I got my face drilled today.

It sounds so dramatic, doesn't it? To have one's face drilled. And no, I didn't take a soccer ball to the face. There was a time in my life when such a phrase would have meant precisely that, but this is not that time.

No, I had to have a filling replaced. Seems I clench my teeth (no, really? stress? me?), and I had cracked a rather old metal filling. So today I got a snazzy new amalgam, and a half frozen face. All in less than an hour. The anaesthetic is starting to wear off, so I have that lovely tingly feeling, in addition to the lingering pain of the injections and the several times that I've bitten my cheek in the interim.

My dentist has tvs hovering over the exam chairs though, so I got to watch US v Haiti soccer match. (Hey. Soccer again. Twice in one post. Totally unintentional. What's that mean?). We were up 2-0 when she finished, but honestly I think the Haitians were playing better. I'm a dentist's chair expert on these things, you know.

So here's the story

I've been 37 for just over a month now, and while the prospect of being even *nearer* 40 causes me much chagrin, it hasn't sucked entirely.

We went to Charleston, SC towards the end of May, for another gathering of WoW friends, and it was soooo awesome. Check it out. There aren't a lot of notes to lead you through the madness, but I think you can see easily enough what a great time everyone had.

It's summer here now, which means 100+ temperatures on any given day, so we're spending a lot more time inside, listening to the dogs whine. I was cycling and even walking the dogs with a moderate amount of regularity until the heat came. Now I will be a hermit. Lots of movie watching, I guess.

Or, I can just do stuff outside when I get off work at THREE A.M. for the next week or two or three. Yeah. I said it. I'm working 7pm to 3am for the next little while. Should be good times. We're resetting part of the store, and lucky me--I get to head up the overnight team doing it. Oh no, it's not because the boss thinks I have a particular talent for leading such a crew...it's because I'm the only one of us keyholders with no children to share with my "spouse". I was the easy choice. Don't get me wrong, I'll thoroughly enjoy being in the store without having to deal with all those pesky customers, but still...it burns!

And that's what I know for now. Happy June! (I'll try to get back, really I will!)

I wear one, do you?

linky goodness
(check out the entry from May 25th if you're coming to this late in the game)


I've worn a band for a couple years now. I'm glad to see it's not just a rubbery yellow fashion statement after all. . .

Rock the Pink!

So I'm a blog addict. You've heard me mention Fatty before. Well his wife is climbing a mountain of her own right now, and in her honour, the good folks at Twin Six have created a Pink version of the Fat Cyclist jersey. If you bike, know anyone who does, or just want to help a great family and a great cause, please check it out. Please support Twin Six as well, since they came up with the idea. Pass it on.

This is oddly right on the money...sorry Shanny!

You Are the Thumb

You're unique and flexible. And you defy any category. Mentally strong and agile, you do things your own way. And you do them well. You are a natural leader... but also truly a loner. You inspire many but connect with few. You get along well with: The Middle Finger Stay away from: The Pinky

What Finger Are You?

Travel Humor

1. Go to google.com.

2. Click on Maps.

3. Click on Get Directions.

4. Enter in “From” box: New York, New York.

5. Enter in “To” box: Paris, France.

6. Then, read line #23 of directions.

7. Laugh.

Thanks to my best friend in the Entire World, even England (and France), for sending this my way. :D

Mourning

Days and days of things to write have slipped by, but now I'm struck with this bit of sadness.

I accidentally started reading Kurt Vonnegut one summer in college. We were allowed to check out books for the summer, and I randomly roamed through the basement stacks and grabbed titles I thought looked interesting. One of them was Cat's Cradle. I think the writing on the spine was some sort of crazy orange 70's looking lettering and it caught my eye. I read the synopsis on the back and it sounded like an interesting read, so I added it to my pile.

I was instantly hooked on the zaniness of the characters and the not-so-subtle social commentary/political satire. I'm fairly certain that I had read his entire bibliography by the time I graduated, and I had the great pleasure of seeing him speak at the Lied Center in Lawrence, Kansas when I lived there.

It's been ages since I've read his books; perhaps it's time for a refresher. I recommend that you do the same, or try one for the first time if you've not yet discovered the wonder of Vonnegut.

Aspirations (!)

So I read The Fat Cyclist regularly. Recently he lost the Bloggies to Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. There were links, and much fun made (in a "damn, she's really good" kinda way), so of course I had to check out the site. I'm hooked. Check it out. It's the rustic version of Dooce!
If I ever make it to "kept woman" status, I'm going to have a cool blog too, with photos and contests and cooking class too! Thing is, these women (Ree and Dooce) are kept by their blogs, not just their men. Dooce's blog makes enough revenue in ads to pay the bills for her family (she and her husband both work at home now, on design projects and. . . blogs!) and I imagine Ree's pulls in a fair chunk as well, although I'm newer to her blog and don't know the entire story. . . At any rate, it's a brave new world out there, and while I don't believe that it's easy work by any stretch of the imagination, I bet it beats the hell out of retail.

Failing in my duties as a blogger

I get kind of antsy when my friend Shannon doesn't update her blog for a couple of days, and that got me thinking about this thing. And I *still* didn't write. Sometimes there is nothing to say, and other times there is just too much.

Here's what's goin on:

I'm still riding, only a couple times a week, though, as my work schedule has gone back to being completely erratic and stoopid and Phoenix is starting to go back to being completely unlivable and oven-like. Right now I have a mysteriously flat tire--I rode about 7.5 miles last week with no problems at all, and a day or two later I came home to find that my front tire was completely wasted. I haven't investigated, but I probably caught a thorn or something. I've got gel tubes though, so it's gotta be a fairly good sized hole. And I don't have any spares. Alas...time to go shopping at the bike shop!

I took the dogs in last week for their yearly shots and whatnot, and got the doc's opinion on Delilah's lame back leg. "You're not going to like what I have to say about her leg," the doc said. "Do you have pet insurance?" Eep. Apparently our little devildog has a torn CCL, which is the doggy equivalent of an ACL. Surgery! Whee! So of course we panicked and started looking into insurance--nearly every policy of which states that you cannot be treated for a CCL injury less than 12 months after opening a policy.

So we also did a lot of reading on the injury and the surgery themselves, and found out that dogs that *have* the surgery almost always end up with at least some arthritis in the joint, and will be somewhat lame on the leg. The surgery is very invasive and requires an extremely rigorous recovery period. Dogs that don't have the surgery, but are limited to less strenuous activity over several months, develop scar tissue around the injury that will stabilise it anyway. They will be slightly more prone to arthritis, but still completely able to get around.

Delilah is now taking lil baby aspirins on days when her leg seems to bother her, and she and I are sharing a brand new bottle of Glucosamine/Chondroitin (both suggestions of the vet). She's taking little 10-15 minute walks with me and *not* roughhousing with Bucket like she used to.

In other news, it rained for an ENTIRE DAY a few days ago. I was so happy. And then my allergies brought out the big stick of pain and itchy and beat me about the face with it. I was not feeling groovy. The cool thing is, it's going to be even worse in a couple of weeks when everything that got a good drink starts to bloom! A friend of mine at work suggested Bee Pollen, so I'm going to give that a try.

I'll...uh....keep you posted....

Confessions of a Hater

I hate peas. The little green monstrosities have haunted my entire career as a food-eating human. From the time I was a child and would eat peas by the spoonful only because I could swallow them whole with a mouthful of milk (Oh! The horror of actually biting into and "popping" a pea!), to recent years when I would go to great lengths to pick peas out of soups, salads, fried rice or any other pea-riddled abomination, peas have been my food nemesis.

But then. One day. . . Last Sunday, to be exact. . . I dragged R out to a new place called Sweet Tomatoes. They have a mile long salad bar with every imaginable salad related food (including my new favourite...Warm Bacon Salad Dressing--it's LIQUID BACON! What could be better? Seriously.) . . . even peas.

Knowing my sheer abhorrence for them, and always looking to get a rise out of me, R hastily spooned A LOT of peas onto his salad. Peas were rolling down the side of the spinach mountain, and threatened to fall onto my plate. I accommodated him by shrieking in (not mock) horror, and we moved on to the soups and breads and suitably yummy distractions. I forgot all about the peas.

And then, in the midst of eating, R attempted to sneak peas onto my salad. There were only a few of them--3 or 4 at most--but my reaction was swift and exclamatory; I attempted to throw them back at him. He's quick though, and knows me well enough to have expected such a reaction, and my throw was blocked, sending all the peas but one back onto my salad. The one pea? Landed in my drink.

One lonely pea, covered in a protective layer of ranch dressing, bobbing around in my Dr. Pepper. I fished it out and then, for some reason--perhaps it was an act of defiance of some sort, cos I'm all about the defiant acts--I ate it. I didn't try to swallow it either. I bit into it. And it wasn't nasty and mushy and gross at all. It was kind of snappy and green tasting, and...kind of good. I was shocked and excited all at once. Sure, my taste buds had betrayed a long standing and well defined intolerance of mine, but now. . .NOW. . .peas! It's a whole new world!

old new addictions

There is a recreation area called Reach 11 here in Phoenix. Recently, they completed a sports complex very close to our house that includes access to about 18 miles of trails. What they lack in personality they make up for in proximity and ease of use.
Even after going through my four months of physical therapy last summer, I still have fairly constant back pain, and my knees still make a gawdawful cruchy racket every time I go up or down the stairs, so I have been reluctant to get back out on a bona-fide mountain bike trail. It just causes too much stress and strain. However, these Reach 11 trails are moderate to say the least. Straight, flat, not terribly bumpy. . . Benign. A few years ago I might have dismissed them as beyond boring, but now they are reminding me of my love of speed and the wind in my face.
I went out for the first time this past Sunday and road a little over 7 miles. The trails run adjacent, under, parallel, and perpendicular to a couple of major interstates, so the sounds of traffic were an ever-present buzz in my ear, but after a while I could tune it out and just enjoy the spinning of the cogs and the crunching of the dirt beneath my tires. I saw other riders, a few runners, and a rabbit. And I completely left behind everything else in the world.
I took a day off on Monday, mainly to give my butt a rest (of all things, riding will most make your butt sore if you're not used to it), and partially to keep myself from overdoing it, as I am wont to do. But I couldn't wait to ride again. There was this longing to be out in the fresh air and away from...just about everything. The solitude of riding is a great thing, especially when I have to deal with people all day long. I used to ride every day after work...2-3 hours at a time, depending on how long the light lasted. It became such a part of my routine that I didn't feel quite right when I didn't get a chance to ride. I craved it. It was probably my first real addiction, besides music and chocolate.
When I ride I think about a million things, but nothing really bogs me down. I can kind of zone out and let thoughts and ideas just sort of float around effortlessly. It's a bit like dreaming, I think. Daydreaming, perhaps. I just peddle and peddle and peddle and love the burning in my legs and the wind in my ears.
When I'm done I am completely exhausted, but it's exhaustion laced with this weird euphoria, because riding just makes me feel *that* good. I can't really say why, I just really enjoy it. I rode again on Tuesday--another 7.5 miles or so. I skipped the last two days for various reasons (it's cold! and I worked late today to be specific), so I'm hoping for a beautiful sunny day on my day off tomorrow so I can take an extended jaunt into the desert. I'll let you know how it goes.

Ghosts

I was cleaning today, going through some old (old!) papers, and I came across a collection of poems I wrote. Here are a couple of my favourites:

*****
he sings the names
with conviction--
so unlike the unconscious
humming harmonies
of night whistling
that I hear so often
in reply to the silence
afforded by intimacy.
those arms are betraying--
strong but terrified
they cling to their fear.
I've felt them and wondered at their contradictions.

beauty offers no protection,
honestly little more
so those strong arms keep clinging
and questioning
and helpless I stand and smile
and wonder--
offering no explanations
whistling in my own darkness

---written early 1990, for my friend Samuel

****
in the green
in the wet
in the smooth
of the deep
green
wet
pools of your eyes
I can see so many things. . .
and then you blink

---22 may 1990 about my then crush, Will.

Cheap and Conflicted

Cheap? Perhaps not the best word to define my chagrin at having started the year off with such a bang and finding myself, here not much more than a month later, whimpering in a corner. It sort of works though. As in, my attention is cheap. My appetite is cheap. It doesn't take much at all to distract me from the goals at hand which were, in a nutshell, to eat better and exercise more.

Which I did. For exactly 16 days, until The Burning Crusade was released.

I wasn't going to write about the game today. I was going to talk about the smell of wet dirt and how much joy it brings me. I was going to mention the fact that I think it's immensely ironic that I spent much of my childhood picking rocks out of the grass at our various houses-in-the-country but now I have to pick errant bits of grass out of the desert landscape that is my yard. I was even going to mention the fact that Sundried Tomato and Basil Parmesan Wheat Thins are the best snack cracker currently on the market (yes, even better than Chikin in a Biskit!).

However. The game dominates all. It is social for me. I have friends there that I've known for longer than some of the people with whom I work. It is therapy for me. In my crazy job, my task oriented psyche gets little comfort; the game sets distinct, ascertainable, goals for me. It's catharsis for me. After a day of bitchy co-workers and rude customers, I like to pretend that I am gorgeous and powerful. I can beat the crap out of the bad guys and/or lead my less powerful friends to safety. I can create items of amazing power and utility. I can fly.

Five Minutes?

Yes. I said 5 minutes with regard to the bowflex. Hey, I have a back injury and I haven't worked out in a while. Cut me some slack. Plus, I was just really distracted with the thought of getting on my bike again after a long hiatus.

Today is my day "off" (workin out), so all I did was wash a load of dishes and scrub out the sink while boogie-ing to OK GO. I grabbed the wrong album off iTunes, and it doesn't even have that immensely catchy "Here We Go Again" song on it, but it's a great album nonetheless.

Chris..I couldn't get the link to work! What and where is the con of which you speak? R and I might be interested in going too. And of course you are welcome to stay with us if ya like. I imagine the event is in Tempe or downtown, which we're not exactly close to, but hey..it'd be free! :)

2007

Everyone is always so excited about a "new year" but, really, the only thing that ever changes is the date on the checks I write. I'm still going to eat a boatload of junk food and not exercise nearly enough. I'm going to have great plans for working out more, sure--I may even spend a bunch of money on some gear or other to enable the dream. But when it comes right down to it, I'm just going to end up sitting on my ever increasingly fat ass and play video games or watch HGTV. I'm going to continue to complain about my crazy work schedule, but I'm too afraid to make a change. I'm a Taurus. I wallow in my ruts.

All cynicism (realistic-ness) aside, we have made pacts to get back in shape. I worked out on the bowflex for about 5 minutes this morning, and then went on my first bike ride in months (I was trying to download all the fascinating data from my Garmin 301 for your perusal and ridicule, but I can't get the computer to recognise the unit). R has been jumping rope and walking. We plan on throwing away all the extra holiday goodies we haven't already consumed. We probably won't, but we *plan* on it, and that's what counts, right? The thought?

I'm also, supposedly, working on my resume so I can show it to a woman R works with; she has offered to help me with it. Here's the scary part. I'm too embarrassed to show it to this woman to critique--and yet it's what I send out in hopes of finding a new job?

It's really just a ramble here, folks. A train wreck of words and emotions. Thanks for stopping by. Another of my "resolutions" is to write more and write better.

Oh, and Ink! You do realise that Albuquerque is not so very far from here, right? We should get together sometime. R and I would love to see you guys!

bahahahahaha

hahahahahaha (pause to gasp for air) hahahahhahahahaha!

oh. and I saw a real life roadrunner today. stalking me. from my driveway. Kettlecorn?

and this is just awesome. maybe cos I'm a chick, and a "soft girl" at that (R teases me when I get weepy over kodak commercials), but just check it out.

blah blah blog

ahahah isn't the english language funny?

anyway. nothing really to comment on here, unless you want yet *another* earnest tirade on the depth of human idiocy and ingratitude. Attention people who shop retail: The people who work in those stores have lives too. They are human beings, and deserve your kindness and respect.

Anyway. I love wrapping gifts. I tend to acumulate (sp?) stuff for people throughout the year because a) it's more in the spirit of things--seeing something someone would like and picking it up then--than doing a sudden, frenzied rush of shopping and b) I lack the bank account to do the sudden frenzied rush of shopping--I like to spread the spending. Makes it seem...less.

Anyway, when it comes time to wrap gifts, I have a couple of boxes in the spare room that are just *full* of gifty things. I simply pull out the boxes and start unpacking all the fun stuff that I've accumulated (that's it!) over the past year. I get to sort it all out, thinking about the people I bought it for, or the adventure that led me to that particular item (an arts & crafts fair? a vacation?). And then of course is the purely girly enjoyment of picking out the wrapping paper and tags and bows and dressing the thing up. I was never much into dolls, so I guess this is as good as it gets for the Tomboy that I am.

All this, and I have to confess--I have wrapped one gift so far. The anticipation though....it's killin me!

Winter

So, Arizona experiences winter. For the past several days, it's barely been above 60, and last night temperatures dropped into the 30s. This thrills me because, even despite the lack of snow, I can pull out and wear my silly winter hats and wear Russell's yummy sweaters (there's really nothing better than a boyfriend sweater, is there?).

Just a week or so ago I recieved an L.L.Bean catalog in the mail and was getting all verklempt at the thought of never again having to don long underwear or silk gloves under my wool gloves under my mittens. And while this little cold snap hasn't required such dire layering, it has allowed me to wear scarves and hats and gloves and such.

Oh! And the food. Winter food rules. I made tortilla chicken soup. I'm planning on making turkey black bean soup (one of my favourites, thanks mom!). I've been drinking hot cocoa and glogg by the gallon. Thinking about whippin out the bread machine for some nice home made chunky goodness. ahhhh...

Yeah. I miss winter. And if this is as good as it gets here in Phoenix, then I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth!

Weekend of Firsts!

I cooked Thanksgiving Dinner for the first time. By myself. It took two days, but I managed a Turkey Breast, rolls, sweet potatoes (yes, with marshmallows, tyvm!), Fatty's Mashed Potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce (which was meant to be cranberry relish but, with a Vitamix in lieu of a full-sized food processor, it turned out a bit more on the...liquid side), green bean casserole, and Pumpkin Gooey Butter Cakes, courtesy of Paula Deen.

And you know what? It all turned out okay. I even had it all (mostly) hot and ready to go at the same time. Of course we destroyed in less than 20 minutes what took me so long to prepare, but it was totally worth it. I loved every minute of the preparations. I'm not a great cook, but I do enjoy it. Blame my mom for that. *She* is a great cook. I would have much rather had her homemade stuffing than the boxed type, and her green beans are better than any mushroom soup/fried onion combo could hope to compare with, but all in all, we were both plenty pleased with the results of my first attempt at Thanksgiving.

The other crazy thing we did this weekend? Got up at o'god thirty on Friday morning to go out and see if we could find a Wii. We'd both read reports that many places had been restocked for the holiday weekend, but that proved not to be the case. At any rate, it was a fun adventure to see just how many people had camped out at Best Buy (about 300) for...whatever reason. Thing is, with all the wandering around we did, I never saw any deals that were worth getting up that early for. There were some nice sales, but nothing really earth-shattering. It was pretty disappointing, really. Well, that and the fact that *NO ONE* had any Wii's. We were home by about 7am, and promptly fell asleep on the couch. It proceeded to be a wonderfully lazy day of lounging and leftover munchin.

Anyway. It was a good couple of days. Happy Thanksgiving!