Sad

I've always prayed that my path be illuminated; I've never prayed that traversing it be easy.

Resolutions

1. Elevate my life to meet my tastes. This means upgrading a few choice items of furniture; purchasing clothing more mindfully and not sacrificing style for cost; revising my grocery list to reflect a physically and emotionally healthy lifestyle.

2. Continue contemplation of the classics. Devote at least six hours per week to the study of ancient Greek.

3. Rekindle my love of Irish music. Play whistle, bouzouki, or banjo at least two hours per week at home, alone.

4. Create and complete a mature reading list. Beginning with The Brothers Karamazov and continuing with classics both traditional and contemporary.

Who Has the Day Off Tomorrow??

I do! I do! I have to work on Friday but I anticipate a mellow work day going into the New Year's weekend.

That means I can go to the session tonight and have some beer! Woot!

And then on Friday evening Rob and I are driving to Charlottesville to have dinner with my dearest friend and muse, a person I haven't seen in years and miss terribly. It should be fun. I'm craving lamb.

Incidentally, and speaking of craving, Rob has a blog. He's a great writer. You'll be salivating.

The Gift of Gifts

This is a time for cultivating the inner life. I love the coming of the New Year - quiet resolutions bring hope for strength of character and spiritual growth.

Spending a quiet morning wrapping gifts. Looking forward to an elegant dinner tonight with friends and loved ones.

Poor Rob!

Thousands of people, including my dearest, are stranded in the Denver airport. Last night was Rob's second night sleeping on the floor.

Pushing On

Today I accidentally left the house for Sligo Creek Park without my watch.

I became accustomed to always running with my watch during marathon training season. That was how I kept track of my minutes-per-mile (especially important for analyzing pace during 15+ mile runs), water breaks, and cool down. When I ran my 14-mile training run - a personal distance record - in the Catskill Mountains, my training coach encouraged me by musing that my watch will be my coach for that run, and it was; it reminded me when to stop for water, when to cool the pace, how far I could expect to my turn-back point.

So even though I was only going for an easy three today, my bare wrist incited a bit of anxiety, and honestly, I didn't feel much at the top of my game. Despite the cool, sunny weather and light breeze, despite it being nice to just run, I couldn't find my stride.

Rob you would be proud

I actually cooked dinner tonight! And by "cooked dinner" I do not mean brewed tea and boiled edamame. I actually made a sauce from olive oil, butter, garlic, shallot, and red wine and poured it over whole wheat angel hair pasta topped with sauteed baby portobella mushrooms and grilled filet mignon.

I've seen Rob make that sauce a million thousand times, so I figured I ought to be able to imitate. And my god, was it scrumptious.

I also have a new coffee table. It will look better once I replace a few other pieces of furniture. Right now it looks like a pearl among swine, for lack of a better analogy.

Blonde Moment

So, ever since I moved into this apartment in June, I've been sad because the middle window in my pretty solarium wouldn't open.

A moment ago, while reading in bed, I had an idea. I got out of bed, walked over to the window, unlocked it, and pushed it open.

Heh.

Mom, you would be proud.

Tonight I broke free from my recent pattern and watched an interesting, suspenseful, and non-traumatic film, and it was great!
Aside from some major liberties taken with the plot (which can only be expected), Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train was fabulous. I'm glad I was able to find this photo, it's a great scene: When Bruno kills Miriam, the viewer watches in the reflection of her glasses, which have fallen to the ground in the struggle. I read the book over the summer as part of my breezing through every book I could find by one of my now-favorite authors, Patricia Highsmith.

So I've proved it to myself - I don't have to be left in a quivering ball to have seen a challenging, intruiging, and mysterious film.

Here's to Friday night, and a great weekend ahead!

Triple Splurge

Wow. I really can't believe myself the last two days. I am not a person known for splurging, but I really outdid myself!

First, I went bra shopping. (Sorry if this is too much information for Lorna's sensitive eyes). But seriously. It turns out I have been wearing the wrong size all my life. And let me just tell you, bras really break the bank. $50 for one!? I normally don't spend that much on a normal item of clothing. Or at the grocery store. Which brings me to the second splurge.....

One hundred and forty-five dollars at Giant! Woot! I restocked my wine rack, bought lots of greens and cheese and dried fruit and nuts and some toys for my little kittens (they're scampering around my chair as I type).

And then... a massage. Which, I've decided, will be a monthly indulgence. Fortunately, my masseur is trained in lots of cool Indian/yoga techniques, but that unfortunately means that he gets to charge an arm and a leg. Ah well... those arms and legs feel really, really (really) good afterward!

Triple Splurge

Wow. I really can't believe myself the last two days. I am not a person known for splurging, but I really outdid myself!

First, I went bra shopping. (Sorry if this is too much information for Lorna's sensitive eyes). But seriously. It turns out I have been wearing the wrong size all my life. And let me just tell you, bras really break the bank. $50 for one!? I normally don't spend that much on a normal item of clothing. Or at the grocery store. Which brings me to the second splurge.....

One hundred and forty-five dollars at Giant! Woot! I restocked my wine rack, bought lots of greens and cheese and dried fruit and nuts and some toys for my little kittens (they're scampering around my chair as I type).

And then... a massage. Which, I've decided, will be a monthly indulgence. Fortunately, my masseur is trained in lots of cool Indian/yoga techniques, but that unfortunately means that he gets to charge an arm and a leg. Ah well... those arms and legs feel really, really (really) good afterward!

Fight For Your Right

Last night my father and brother and I went to see the Washington Capitols play the Buffalo Sabres at the Verizon Center. It was a good game. The caps scored two goals in the first two minutes of the game. The Sabres got one in a few minutes later but the Caps answered in about twenty seconds. Things evened out from there, with the Caps coming out on top, 6-3.

I love watching professional hockey games live. The match-up really doesn't matter. It's just the vibe of the thing.

Which brings me to one of my fondest memories. Now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure if these two things actually happened on the same night, but I think they did:

I was staying home alone while my mom went on a business trip. I came home from school the day that she was supposed to come home to find a note from her boyfriend asking me if I wanted to go to the Red Wings game that night. This was right in the middle of the really intense awful rivalry between Detroit and Colorado after Claude Lemieux pushed Kris Draper into the boards face first and he had to have total facial reconstruction. The next game between the two teams was an all-out brawl from start to finish. Even the goalies couldn't stay in their nets.

Well, the game that I had just been invited to was the game between the two teams AFTER the brawl, which was after the incident with Lemieux and Draper. So let's just say it was going to be a doozie.

Jim picked me up and we went to the game. I remember high-fiving him after every Red Wings goal, but I can't remember anything else about the game, or who won. Afterwards we picked my mom up at the airport. She didn't know I was coming. I think she was equally as glad to see me as she was to see Jim and I spending time together.

Now, onto a lazy Sunday, morning, seeing my dad back to Michigan, and having dinner with one of my dearest friends, the oft-weblinked, oft-blogged about journalist and author extraordinare, man of culture and reknown....

Metro Adventures

I am very much looking forward to giving up my car, which will happen in February. Although I rarely use it even now, I'm still trying to make minor adjustments in my routine to begin to acclimate myself to the change. Last night, I took metro out to Bethesda to play some tunes, and I noticed the new SmarTrip Only fare lanes! For the uninitiated, these are lanes designated for passengers who carry the plastic farecards. These cards are simply scanned over a sensor placed on top of the fare gate. The other lanes accept SmarTrip and also the traditional paper fare cards, which are fed through the gate and spit back to you. Nerdy debates abound on which method of fare paying is faster.

Anyway. The phenomenon I witnessed must have a name somewhere in the annals of behavior psychology. Everyone with a SmarTrip was lining up at the designated lanes, leaving the traditional lanes free and clear and actually faster than the SmarTrip only lanes. In theory, during rush hour, the designated lanes would be faster because there isn't that split-second wait for the machine to process the paper card.

So for some reason, people in their head knew that, given certain conditions, the designated lanes would be faster. But last night those conditions weren't fulfilled and so the lanes were actually slower.

As I breezed my thinking-outside-the-box-self through the traditional lanes with my trusty SmarTrip, I thought... how interesting is human behavior.

WHY

Why can't I just watch a normal film every now and then. Why does every film I see have to have a castration scene, or unspeakable psychological brutality, or feature the real (yes REAL) killing of an animal.

WHYYYYY??????? Tonight's feature, Cache, was actually quite interesting, save for a few scenes and the overall feeling of doom. It's just the "few scenes" that will start haunting my dreams in about two months once the content finally makes it past the censors of my subconscious.

No wonder I'm in a mild depression. I need a good comedy.

THIS ONE comes to mind... I must have watched it a gazillion thousand times growing up and it always just got funnier... Netflix here I come.

Friday Afternoon Snooze

My Kind of Thanksgiving

Marinated artichoke hearts; shimp and prosciutto in melted butter; spring greens with cranberries, bleu cheese, and a pumpkin-seed vinaigrette; cured meats and cheeses; smoked salmon; olives. A fantastic glass of Pinot Noir.

A lovely setting on the Severn River at dusk overlooking the United States Naval Academy, wait staff to clear the table, a traffic-free drive home.

Half the evening left to enjoy before work tomorrow; then the weekend.

Perfect.

Cloister

I have been in a horrible mood lately. Conversations are boring and effortful, restaurants are typical, jokes are humorless. I just want to be left alone and not have to talk to anyone. This is an unfortunate state of mind, being that my mom and her husband are in town so we've been hanging out and sightseeing. I know my grumpy mood is bringing everyone else down, I can see it happening and it's as frustrating for me as it is for my companions.

I just want to sleep for a while, three or four full nights of uninterrupted sleep, intense exersize, time alone to think and read.

I actually believe that people are happiest when living in a [purposeful, not coincidental] community, but for me that must come with a guarantee of on-demand, prolonged periods of complete privacy.

In Support of Non-Materialism

JEEZ.

Lame Lame Lame Lame

I am so lame.

So. Lame.

I really wanted to go to the session tonight. I haven't been in a while and I won't be able to go on Sunday.

But:

1. It is cold outside and my hair is wet and I don't want to come down with something right before I have my mom and John come in from Michigan.
2. I haven't been able to breathe properly today. You all know that I have a breathing thing that's not physiological or medical. I had a speaking engagement this afternoon at Georgetown University and that's when it started. And so it's difficult to think about going out and being charming and social when I can't breathe. It's a really distracting phenomenon.

But:

3. I know I haven't been to a session in a while and I don't want my friends to think that I'm ditching them (I'm not) or that I don't like Irish music anymore (I do) or that I'm just totally lame (I am).

So I really shouldn't do something just becaue of what I'm afraid people will think (hello middle school?) and I'm afraid that if I go out that I will just wish that I had stayed home.

But:

I really don't want to get (any further) into the lazy, selfish habit of isolating myself from my friends. Sure, it's easier to stay at home warm and cozy in Rob's sweat pants with tea and kittens. But music is really important to me; the community aspect is important to me. So, as usual, I'm thinking way too hard about a relatively simple situation.

I'm gonna put on some tea and crack open a new book. And chill out.

P.S. Can everyone please refrain from advising me to go to a doctor about the breathing thing? I can run miles at a time and do yoga and climb stairs and so I am not in danger of a heart attack. When I have time to actually find a physician that is not my ob/gyn then maybe I will tell him/her about the issue and get some advice. But finding a doctor is not currently high on my list of priorities.

Confession

I do not like Thanksgiving food.

Turkey is blah... and the side dishes are uninteresting. Potato-based something... cranberry sauce... stuffing... ugh.

I would much rather have a main course of duck accompanied by a spinach salad with cranberries, walnuts, and brie; stuffed portabella mushroom caps and red wine.

Chocolate mousse for dessert.

But I guess, yeah, Thanksgiving food is supposed to be indiginous to America, stuff that the first settlers would have had on hand. So my suggestions wouldn't really work. I can't help it, though, the traditional menu is just not my taste.

Domesticity

Tonight I am cooking dinner for Rob! Something other than cereal!

We are having whole wheat angel hair with chorizo sausage, kalamata olives, and shiitake mushrooms in a garlic oil sauce with garlic bread and Rob's choice of wine.

I am cooking in my pajamas because I have been dressed all day and don't feel like wearing real clothes anymore right now. I know that's probably the sign of a very comfortable relationship, but for some reason Rob thinks I look stunning no matter what (who is he looking at??).

Also, I just have to say that Pier One is having a massive sale and I got a large plate, two salad plates, and two bowls, all in a chic Asian design for $23.

John 2, 1:11

There is a fullness of time for everything, and in our fullness of time we lost our matriarch, our equestrienne, and a piece of our identity.

I think my family has a lot of prayer ahead of them and that, in itself, is a comfort.

Thoughts On Yesterday

Yesterday was the two year anniversary of my marathon. I thought I would post my race report from that day! The title was, "FINISH OR DIE!!!"

FINISH OR DIE!!
I guess I get to live another day! Thanks to everyone who kept track of me online while I was running. The thought of letting you down kept me going during some hard times. It was because of you guys that I ran hard through Haines Point and "beat the bridge" with hours to spare, making it across the 14th St Bridge before the Marines re-opened it to traffic. Those runners who did not beat the bridge were picked up and escorted by bus to the finish.
Here are some of my personal race statistics for you:
Number of miles run: 26.2
Number of runners: 18,000
Miles with Kristen and Mika: 1-3
Miles with Joe: 3-18
Miles with Jeremy (NOT entered in the marathon!): 22-23
Miles by myself: 18-22, 23-26.2
Number of times I wanted to quit: 3
Number of times I wanted to throw up: 2
Number of times I actually threw up: 0
Number of times someone in the crowd cheered me on by name: too many to count
Moment when I knew I would finish: mile 26.1
Mile when my feet started to ache: 11
Mile when knees, shins, and hips started to ache: n/a
Number of cups of water I dumped on my head: 7
Number of people in the crowd who knew me personally: 2
Runners in costume dressed as: Madonna, several witches, batman, superman.
Marine Marathon regular/famous runners I saw: the guy who runs backwards the entire way, the guy who jumps rope the entire way, the guy who runs dressed as Kermit the Frog.
Marine Marathon regulars I did not see: the guy who juggles the whole time.
Number of Marines who untied my shoes and removed my computer chip for me when done: 1
Best part of the race: approaching the 10k mark, running up the Rock Creek Parkway. The trees and changing leaves were beautiful
Worst part of the race: miles 17-20, Haines Point. Long, flat, desolate, no crowd cheering us on. And our reward for completing Haines Point was to run the 14th St Bridge - LONG, hilly, and the mile (21) where you feel like you'll never, ever finish.
Areas of body currently sunburned: face, neck, hands, forearms.

I want to send out a HUGE thank you to all the Marines who planned, organized, and executed a flawless race. They were lining the course, handing out water, PowerAde, pretzels, oranges, words of compassion and encouragement. They were polite, enthusiastic, and attentive. They were amazing. Oohrah!

Trauma

I've seen a lot of movies. I've taken film classes in college and studied filming techniques and delved deeply into specific genres and I really like movies in general.

I've seen a lot of traumatic movies and movies that have made me cry and movies that have disturbed my sleep patterns for multiple days.

This is the first time I've seen a movie with a castration scene*. I paused it three times to try to decide if I wanted to continue. I poured a glass of wine. I looked up the film's website to see if there were any disclaimers. And in the end, although a film and not real life, that particular scene, along with all the others, was deeply disturbing.

In fact, I'm not even going to link to the IMBd page because there is some sickeningly questionable content on the message boards. Content that I wonder if I should report to the FBI.

So it's off to my second glass of wine and I'll try not to inhale Rob's dinner too deeply; I still feel a bit nauseated after the whole thing.

*Now that I say that, I think I may have lied to you. There may have been a feature in my college Asian Film course that had a castration scene, but I don't remember, so I'm probably wrong.

Poor Me

I have reached the height of commitment-phobia.

Lately I have been lauding the virtues, on a strictly theoretical basis being that I haven't tried it myself, of Giant's Peapod home grocery delivery service. It seems like a really neat thing, especially for the infirm or those of us who can't manage to haul a granny cart up the street without making bloody spectacles of ourselves.

I'm so close. I'm almost there. I've selected my groceries. Even produce, and meat! I've selected my delivery time.

But I cannot. click. the. CHECKOUT. button.

I don't know why. Well, I think I know why. I don't know why! Well, let me try to explain. Ordinarily I'm all about paying for a little bit of extra convenience, and having groceries - including a big-ass bag of kitty litter - delivered directly to my door is very appealing.* But for some reason right now I'm frozen with my finger above the mouse button.

What if, for some reason, I'm not at home during the specified time range? I would never forgive myself for inconveniencing the delivery person.

And another thing which is, I guess, back to the paying for convenience part: the delivery fee is $9.95 and the minimum amount of groceries you need to buy is $50. So just in meeting the barest threshhold I'm already at TWICE my normal weekly grocery bill.**

So, here we are. I think I'll put it off. Just for another week. Then we'll try again. You have to take these things slowly, you know. Rushing in only leads to calamity.

*When you live on the sixth floor and have to park a block away, well, who wants to make two trips under those conditions?
** No, I don't starve myself; I'm a bachelor(ette).

On the Upswing

After what I now realize has been a mild depression, I'm starting to feel pretty good again. Sleeping a little less. Eating less, too, but that's conscious. Trying to play a bit more music, although my reasons for remaining in absentia on Wednesdays and Sundays have less to do with wanting to coccoon at home and more to do with an increase in yoga (Sunday) and the slight feeling that my main session has become a tad redundant. I just don't have the attention span to sit through four hours of tunes like I used to. Something needs to shake up a bit, I think.

In other news... what? There isn't much to report. The weather is getting colder and my darling kittens are the new static cling. It's going to be time to start the winter delve into academe. For some reason I have a difficult time studying in the summertime. Something about lighting a lamp in the darkness really sets the mood for me, and that's difficult to do when the sun blazes until 10pm as it does in July.

So - more Greek. The traditional revisiting of Plato and Homer. Something else, too, just not sure what yet...

Have I mentioned...

... that there is absolutely nothing more darling than a kitten who is snoring while in a deep snooze with her little face next to yours and her little paw wrapped around your arm?

Afternoon

This afternoon was beautiful, but my mind was torn between a run or a nap.

Run or nap. Run or nap.

In the past I have thought, well, I'll just lay down and then go over the pros and cons and we all know what happened then. But I have never regretted getting myself out for a turn through the neighborhood, so that's what I did.*

Then I fell asleep, woke up late with a massive headache and case of nausea but got myself up and out the door nonetheless to play a few tunes, only to come back home after 30 minutes because of said headache. Then I got home and realized that my apartment was a complete wreck - clothing everywhere, donations piled up, the kitchen all cluttered, bed unmade, a pile of unsorted mail.

Disconcerted, I stood in my doorway, and Natasha poked her little head out. She took about three steps into the hallway and staaaared for a few minutes into the abyss. This could have gone on for hours, so I nudged her back inside and began cleaning up, trying to make my home peaceful again, clean, minimal.

At this point, I feel a bit better, but still not quite right. I don't know why not.

*Read: lugged my pathetic self out for a 3.5 mile schlep

150 Things

The idea for this post was stolen from a friend, who, upon reading her list, I discovered, has never tried sushi. Completely unacceptable!

Items in bold are those to which I aswer "yes."

1. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
2. Swam with wild dolphins
3. Climbed a mountain
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
5. Been inside the Great Pyramid
6. Held a tarantula
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
8. Said “I love you” and meant it
9. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days (not drink)
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life

Musings

I need a tea straw. A long one. Because who, on a lazy, cold Saturday morning, warm in bed covered with snoozing kittens, wants to disturb everything by leaning over and taking a sip of tea?

Blood

Today I did my duty and donated a pint of blood to the Red Cross. I really like the idea of donating blood (I like the idea much more than the actual procedure), so I do it as often as I can. It helps that my workplace hosts a blood drive several times a year. But today's blood-letting turned out to be a bit of a debacle.

I went down there with a co-worker. We tend to donate blood together at these workplace drives. It's nice to have someone next to you when you're inert and bleeding for fifteen minutes at a time (although, as a female, I suppose I should be thrilled at bleeding for a mere quarter of an hour). He went in for his health interview before me. Thirty seconds later, he was pulling on his jacket and saying "I gotta go - talk to you later." I thought that was odd, but soon understood what happened.

The Red Cross people today were scary. They didn't seem to know what they were doing. They didn't speak proper English. They were slow. The health historian typed with one finger and didn't know how to spell Connecticut (my street name).

The technicians ended up having to take blood out of both my arms; my phlebologist (it's a real word, trust me) had to call for assistance during the final part of my ordeal, the filling of two test tubes, during which time she fished around with the needle inside my vein and jammed the last tube into it's receiver when the flow wasn't strong enough, causing the needle to push even farther inside my arm with no apparent guidance.

Eventually, after I feebly asked how many more times she was going to try, she gave up with that side - but in order for the pint I had just donated to be available for use, she needed to follow through with the two smaller tubes for testing. I let her use my other arm, just so it wouldn't all be for nothing, so now both my arms are sore.

I must say - being on the receiving side of [perceived] incompetent of health workers is frightening. At least it's for a very, very good cause.

Pity Party

Ugh, this is awful. I feel sloth-like and round. I went up to the roof-top terrace and did about ten minutes of lovely yoga in the soft afternoon sun and then got bored. Came back inside. Did about three more minutes and just couldn't get into it.

I feel flabby and soft. This is gross. I am a female whining about her body. Double gross.

If Only

A broken bottle of wine,
a gash on the leg.
suddenly I wish
I had driven, instead of walked,
to
the
grocery
store
.

Home Again

Rob and I just spent a fantastic weekend in my home state. A wedding, a party, some cheeseburgers, lots of Cotes du Rhone, a walk around Greek gardens, tea, sushi, Irish music, family, friends.

Now I am home and the frustrating thing about coming back to DC is that the ride from the airport to my apartment is LONGER than the plane ride from Detroit to Washington. How is that possible, you ask? Well. On the weekends, which is usually when I'm coming to and fro, I arrive at the airport spent approximately fifteen minutes gathering luggage, peeing, etc, and head up to the metro platform. I then wait approximately ten minutes for a train. Travel twenty minutes to my transfer station, and wait approximately ten more minutes for a train. Travel fifteen minutes to my station, and walk five minutes to my apartment for a total of one hour fifteen minutes as compared to a fifty minute flight.

Alas. I am home and my kittens are purring so loudly and I have fresh laundry and a whole evening to myself with a day off (Columbus Day) before me and yoga to do later.

Loooong Weekend

Tomorrow is Friday! Sort of. I have Thursday and Friday off to go back to Michigan for my mom's wedding. I am very excited about this, and also about having Monday off for a holiday!

I apologize for the lack of posting. I can't think of anything provocative to write about. Just the usual - yoga is awesome, etc.

Ohhh.... but this couple I've been watching on the metro... today he got off at her (and my) stop, Judiciary Square, and they stood by the faregates having a sort of discussion. Not really an argument with raised voice, but it definitely seemed as though there was an issue that needed urgent attention. Very interesting.

Vacay

I just scheduled my first ever two-week vacation!

Where I work you have to arrange leave months, if not a year in advance in order for it to be valid should some emergency situation come to pass. They have a tendency to say "No more leave for the foreseeable future" and then you are screwed UNLESS you had applied for leave before the commandment came down. Then you are okay. That is why you have to do things as far in advance as possible.

So for the first two weeks in June I will be enjoying the Mediterranean in all it's blue-white feta cheese lamb olive glory. I'm going to Greece!

Wit

The most ]][================================

Sorry, Natasha decided to get her two meows in there.

As I was saying, what makes The Simpsons so clever is that the jokes are always taken one step further than you think. So once you think you've understood, the hilarity has only begun.

Homer, in the garage, contemplatively: Marge, it's going to be an all-nighter! So put on a pot of coffee. [pause] Drink it, and start making burgers!

Bugs!

I think now that the weather is getting cooler some bugs are coming inside. I have lived here since June and up until two days ago only saw one bug ever, and it was dead. But since Wednesday I have seen TWO bugs and let me tell you how quickly I vacuumed them up.

At work we have huge cockroaches. A few weeks ago I held the door for one. I was trying to enter the stairwell and I looked down and there he was, he just waltzed right into the hallway and didn't even say thank you.

Once a quarter, after they fumigate, the hallways are filled with dead roaches and when you step on one accidentally it's disgusting. My second in command says when it's quiet he can hear mice in the walls next to his office. My office is on the 5th floor (out of 6) and when it rains the ceiling leaks and breaks our color copier. Do not ask me how the ceiling leaks rainwater when we are not the top floor. Also, ever summer when they turn on the air conditioning, it leaks into our office and breaks our color copier. My building at work is very ghetto.

I am WIPED after a tough yoga class. And babbling about bugs and leaks. Time for a nice glass of Chianti.

Weekend

Woot! Holla! I have the whole weekend off! Yoga! Cocktail party! Nap! Kittens!

Asia Nora... sort of

As part of the multi-day birthday extravaganza that I am attempting to throw for Rob, we had dinner reservations last night. I didn't tell him where we were going, just directed him on where to turn until we got to Foggy Bottom and Asia Nora. Unfortunately, they couldn't find our reservation, and eventually realized that it had been booke at their sister venue, Restaurant Nora. I felt awful, partly because I knew when I made the reservation that it would be really easy to accidentally mess it up, so I made double sure to call Asia Nora... but alas, I did wrong.

The evening was nowhere near lost, however, as Rob and I had an excellent meal and half-bottle of Provencal red wine at Restaurant Nora in Dupont Circle. I wish I were better as describing food, because the tomato mozzerella salad, beef carpaccio, crab and avocado salad, filet mignon, veal medallions, lemon type creme brulee, and rasperries in sugar creme were to die for....

Tomorrow is the actual DAY and the present of presents awaits....

Friday

I am so in denial about having to work tomorrow. I have had two weekends off in a row and am getting spoiled!

Yesterday I had a private yoga lesson at the Astanga Yoga Center. It was fantastic! I got into some amazing poses that I had never been able to do before, like Upward Facing Bow and Half Bound Lotus. Also, you cannot beat the location - a 15-minute walk through the gorgeous and expensive residential neighborhood in which I am lucky enough to live.

I have a film tonight but not in the mood to watch it. I just laid on the couch for an hour while a warm little thing named Elena stretched her buzzing body from my chin to belly and took a nice long snooze.

Finding Their Voices

I'm in a narrative sort of mood tonight.

I went shopping after work today and found some super cute clothes for yoga. I've been taking classes at the Ashtanga Yoga Center in Tenleytown, a lovely 15-minute walk through a gorgeous neighborhood, perfect even in inclement weather. On Thursday I have a private lesson; my feeling is that a year of home practice has resulted in a few short-cuts, misalignments, and maladjustments. I'm worried that I may be impeding my progess in the long run, so I just want a little tune up, then it's back to group classes.

Natasha and Elena are discovering that they have voices! Aside from their pitiful yelps on the way home from the shelter, I've scarcely heard more than a tiny little "eh!" from them (the sound of which causes me to scoop them up in my arms and SQUEEEEEZE them!). But now, recently, they've begun "mew!"-ing and it is the most darling sound you've ever heard!

I know they're saying, "Mommy, I love you!"

Either that or, "Sheesh, can you go two seconds without scooping us up and SQUEEEEEZING us??"

Weekend

I actually painted the town on Friday! It had been a while, but a few friends and I decided to head out to Sequoia on the Georgetown Waterfront for the monthly Deaf Professionals Happy Hour. Was very fun. I took the bus from Tenleytown, right down Wisconsin Ave. At 11pm I waited all of 3 minutes for the bus. On Connecticut Ave I could have been waiting 40 minutes. I love the 32/33 bus line.

Not much on my mind these days in terms of complex or provocative thoughts. Just been trying to stay awake past 9pm. It's getting a bit better at work. I have every other weekend off - those in between I will work Saturdays. So I get my life back and still get to keep 10 or so hours of overtime per pay period.

Signing off now to finish up a quiet Sunday afternoon with kittens and my reading chair surrounded by windows with the cool breeze and maybe a glass of wine.

Two Perspectives

Today at work, standing in front of the elevator, I watched a man enter as the down arrow flashed. About 40 feet down a hall, a woman calls for him to hold it, but he's already stepped inside. The doors close. I'm still waiting for the up arrow to flash; the woman stands next to me and runs long-decorated-acrylics through her hair.

"Maybe he didn't hear you," I commiserate, while at the same time she snarls, "People who work in this building are such jackasses."

Cooling Down

Lovely weekend. Two yoga classes, a couple hundred pages of the book I've been trying to make a dent in, lots of tea, lots of sleeping, lots of Rob.

I am really looking forward to the colder weather. All this rain has made me crave fall clothes: scarves, soft, feminine sweaters, cheeks flushed.

In Which the Author Rediscovers the Joys of Being Hidden

I have three days off. THREE whole days.

I haven't had more than one day off in a row in seven weeks.

I am so happy! I have a weekend filled with yoga and not much else. It finally stopped raining, but actually I like the way a rainy weekend forces one to stay inside and be quiet. When it's raining, I'm much less likely to be coerced into going on some zany adventure with my friends.

At this hour on Saturday, the long weekend stretches out in front of me. It will never end!

I Am Uncool

Today I made a most embarassing purchase at Giant: a granny cart.

Yes. Do not laugh. I will be turning in my car at the end of the lease and not getting another, so I am trying to forget that my car exists for the most part so that losing it is not a shock. And now that I have to buy 20 lb. bags of kitty litter for my little darlings, I will need some help in getting home from the grocery store.

I tried to carry a 20 lb. bag of litter home once. It was not a good idea.

And yes, today it was raining, so not only was I pushing a granny cart up chic Connecticut Avenue, I was doing so while huddled under an umbrella.

Embarassing!

Excess!

I now have FOUR remote controls.

Television
DVD player
CD player
Window air conditioner unit (???)

Who needs FOUR remote controls?

How many do you guys have?

This Chick Loves Nik!!!

Thanks to my lovely, beautiful, and engaged to be married mom for letting me know that my all-time favorite NHL hockey player, the illustrious Niklas Lidstrom, famous for his left-handed slap-shots from the point, will take over as Captain of the Detroit Red Wings in the wake of Steve Yzerman's retirement.

Yessssss.......

Quirk

Reading a new issue of National Geographic always gives me a headache. I think it's the way they treat the paper. I dread turning a page - the big whiff of chemicals.

Funny Games

Several years ago, Michael Haneke's film The Piano Teacher traumatized me severely. It wasn't until recently that I was able to sit down and watch it again. I've since decided to face Haneke head on, and a few minutes ago finished his more recent film, Funny Games.

I'm not sure where to start, except to perhaps paraphrase Haneke himself by saying that this is a film reserved for those who need to watch it. If, he says, the viewer is upset with the film by it's end, he would simply ask, "Why did you stay to finish it?" And indeed he presents some interesting concepts that an ordinary person might need to be walked through - or, more likely, might wish he had never be shown.

The genuis of the film is the way Haneke makes the viewer an accomplice in the violence. You'll see what I mean if you watch it. And beyond that, he generates the most acute frustration, as you realize that the victims are acting in a tragedy but the aggressors in a comedy. Watching the interaction is maddening.

Between this film and last night's Janghwa, Hongryeon (A Tale of Two Sisters) I'm in need of some serious comedy.

Little Girl Home

Natasha went in for her spay this morning. Rob was my hero as always and dropped her off for me because I could not arrange to leave work. I don't know who I was worried for more - Natasha under the cold, hard medical lights or Elena, home alone separated from her sister for the first time.

When I got home from work Elena plastered herself to my ankle and would not remove herself. She held onto me as I changed clothes and followed me into my bedroom. On the bed, she mrrow-ed pitifully and marched up and down my body. Finally she curled up pressed into my armpit for a little snooze. We woke up and I got ready to pick up Tasha - Elena stood with all four paws on my right foot as I brushed my teeth.

Natasha is home now and doing fine, grooming herself right in front of my monitor, in fact. I usually shut them out of my bedroom at night, but I think tonight I'll let them sleep with me for a while at least. I'm sorry that I have to go to work tomorrow and leave them alone.

Why I Do Not Like Accepting Rides

1. I know that it inconveniences the other person. Each and every time I have given another person a ride, it has been an inconvenience. This is not to say that I've minded in the least - in fact I'm often thrilled to be able to help. But I would be lying if I said that it even once fit perfectly into my schedule or made the day easier. That said, I cannot stand being an inconvenience, even if I'm relatively sure that the other person is genuinely happy to help.

2. I become extremely embarassed if the person I ask is not available to give me a ride. This is because if a ride is denied then I am not only stranded, but stranded publicly. All I can do is murmur "That's okay, I'll figure it out" and slink away in my own humiliation, knowing that another person knows I'm stranded and is secretly thankful that they're not me.

It Begins!

DC Restaurant Week.

Rob and I and two friends of ours are heading out twice this week - tonight to Ten Penh, and Thursday to DC Coast. I can't wait.

God Answers Prayers

I've always known it to be true, but today it is SO true. Now the question is, can I walk down the path that I prayed would be illuminated?

Pillow Talk

There's a new coffee shop going up in my neighborhood, I say to Rob last night. It's not open yet, but it looks really cute. It's called Sips. It's right next door to the dry cleaning place calls Zips. I wonder if they're both owned by the same person.

They should put up an S&M club on the other side and call it Whips, Rob says thoughtfully.

They should put up a calligraphy place on the other side and call it Tips.

They should put in a comedy club and call it Quips.

They should put in a lingerie store and call it Slips.

This morning, a friend adds: How about a hair accessory place called Clips?

Ciao

I'll be offline for the weekend. See everyone on Monday!

O Cuteness of Cutenesses

Can my kittens get any sweeter? Elena fell asleep stretched out across my chest while I was watching TV this afternoon. I soon took a hint and disturbed her to totter to my bed, where I stretched out with a kitten pressed against the curve of my back, another sharing my pillow. Every now and then a little paw stroking my cheek or pressing against my nose.

When I rolled over, they followed suit - one kitten draped over my leg, nose resting against the arch of my foot, the other curled into the space between my tummy and my pillow. I woke up before they did.

A stark contrast compared to the scene this morning, when I wished for a hemlock cocktail to appear in my hand - a touch of food poisoning, and oh how glad I am to be feeling better, if a little malnourished and dehydrated.

Tonight

I am entertaining guests tonight for the first time in my new apartment!!

I got home from work and laid down for a nap with my kittens, pressed together against my torso and resting their noses on my arm... so incredibly sweet. Now I've cleaned up and am finishing putting things in their place and opening the blinds to let some sunlight in. Rob will be here soon with the aperatifs - gin, tonic, lemons, limes, I have a nice bottle of red wine, Rob will be bringing some cheese and crustini. We'll stay here for a cocktail or two before heading to 1789 for their summer special - three courses for $35.

Our reservations are for 9pm, a civilized hour, and Rob and I both love dining with these two friends. Dining is best when with people who truly enjoy food.

The End of the World

I've always been a faithful crossword girl, but the other day I gave in and let Rob give me a Sudoku tutorial... then I tried just one puzzle and got nowhere and didn't like it very much... but I thought I might just try again because I was a little bored... and then today I downloaded a 28-day trial of the endless Sudoku program (here)... and thought, okay, I'll try just one... and I WON and it is SO SATISFYING to see all the space filled up with numbers perfectly working out. Ahhhh.......

Slight Rejuvenation

Embarking on twelve straight days of work, I feel slightly rejuvenated after a film, pot of tea, and a few tunes at home alone. Natasha slept between my knees the entire duration of the film. I could feel her purring. So precious!

This morning I mistook the USPS mailbox outside my apartment building for a trash can (sorry postal carrier, you'll have a paper towel with some crumbs waiting for you) and tried to use my work ID to enter the metro station. Fortunately I am amused rather than irritated by my mishaps. Things bode well, for now.

I Feel:

Underhydrated;
Flabby;
Grumpy;
Inarticulate;
Short;
Short-tempered;
Uninteresting;
Fat;
Inattentive;
Annoying.

Suffice it to say I am having a bad day.

Irksome

I am eight minutes into my very first episode of Emeril Live and I could not be more annoyed. What is with all the weird sound effects? Why did the entire audience cheer when he added garlic?

I don't get it. Give me Giada de Laurentiis any time.

Nice Evening

Kittens playing on the floor, a new book, a bottle of Chianti, yoga, air conditioning. I made a light salad of spinach, avocado, smoked salmon, and bleu cheese, took a nap, watched The Simpsons, did the dishes. Found out that a good friend went to the pub last minute and that made me sad since tonight is session night but I stayed home.

Things are getting rough. Since I'm "Essential Personnel" I have to work six days a week (for the next 30 days or so) because of this. I'm not complaining too terribly much... I'll be able to sleep in a little bit on my sixth day and still pull in quite a bit of overtime pay, which I need.

Such is life in my line of work. Time off, including weekends, is always conditional. Sometimes things can't wait until Monday. Sometimes working on Saturday means catching a rapist, and not working might mean that he strikes again. So it will be stressful, but I'm reminded that the mission is an important one.

Cycles of Behavior

My kittens and I have settled into a routine.

I come home from work, excited to see them. I try to play with them for a while, a pathetic attempt to which they react only half-heartedly before choosing each other as more suitable playmates and ignoring me completely. I then go drown my sorrows, lamenting that even two little animals who I feed and house don't really like me. A few minutes later, they're both asleep in my lap for the next hour or so. Then I think, aw, my kittens do like me.

They're especially sweet during my yoga practice, lining the edges of my mat, snoozing, sometimes winding between my legs during Downward Facing Dog or Eagle.

Still, though, having cats has been a huge emotional adjustment from my life of having dogs. Dogs always want to be around you. You'll tire of petting them before they will, I guarantee it. WIth cats, though, things are much more on their terms. They display affection spontaneously, and the move on. I'm trying not to let it hurt my feelings, especially since I've noticed that, even if not being overtly affectionate, they still like to be in the same room as me. If I'm reading in bed they'll hop up, if I'm watching TV they'll play in the living room, if I cook dinner (read: pour cereal) they'll watch, if I'm dressing or brushing my teeth they like to hang out by the closet door. It's sweet.

I am tired of not breathing

I have a condition. Often (as much as twice a day, as little as once a week) I cannot breathe. Air comes in, air goes out, but I still cannot breathe.

Try this.

Inhale, and hold it for a second. Now inhale again. And again. Don't exhale, just keep inhaling over and over again. This is what it feels like, except that I am perfectly capable of exhaling, it just doesnt' FEEL like an exhale. I breathe in and and breathe out physically, but I never FEEL the exhale. And then, finally, with great concentration and prayer and I don't know what, I can breathe and and FEEL it and then I am okay.

It's awful, and the most frustrating thing is the lack of pattern. It doesn't appear stress-induced. Just a second ago, I was sitting in my lovely sun-filled apartment in a comfy chair reading a book and sipping cold water while my kittens played on the floor. And then suddenly I couldn't breathe.

Last night Rob was massaging my yoga-ravaged muscles, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. It happens while I'm walking to work, while I'm at work, while I'm at home, eating dinner, not eating dinner, trying to go to sleep, watching TV, reading, whenever.

I'm sure it's not physiological, since I'm perfectly capable of running 26.2 miles at a time, or going for a 20-mile bike ride, or doing 60 minutes of yoga without any respiratory problems. In fact, I rarely if ever have my breathing problem while exercising. I just can't seem to pin down the triggers.

It first started happening years ago, while I was staying with my mom, on a break from college I think. Remember? We went out in the middle of the night to a 24-hour drug store and picked up some Benedryl because we thought it might be an allergic reaction. The Benedryl put me right to sleep, thank God. Later that week I went in for allergy testing - negative for everything, knock on wood.

So what the hell is my problem?

Perception is Everything

First things first (and sorry to note update this): Elena is fine! On the second day of her limping, poor girl, I made an appointment with the vet for the next day. On the day of the appointment, came home from work to find a perfectly FINE Elena jumping around and putting normal weight on her paw. Joy! As a new mommy, I think I just overreacted. Kittens get into things. She could have sprained her ankle or pulled on a claw or something.

And now.

Oh. My. GAWD. I hadn't been to Rob's since picking up my kittens, and yesterday when I walked through the door and saw one of his cats, they looked HUGE. I could not stop exclaiming. His cat takes up the whole seat of a chair. My kittens take up about 1/6 of a chair each. After being around 2.5-month old's for the past week or so, I had totally forgotten how big adult cats are!

I can't really believe that my kittens will get to be as big as Rob's cats, but he says mine might actually get bigger.... oh my gawd.....

This is a picture of one of Rob's cats, Kyosaku. Compare with pictures of my kittens from a previous post, and you'll see what I mean.

The 80's Are Back!

Today while out for a looong bike ride, I saw something old school - a guy walking and CARRYING a boom box playing rap music. Oh yeaahhh.....

I love that DC is so saturated with bikers/hikers/runners. It makes biking quite nice because driver's tend to be considerate. On my ride today I ended up near National Airport and decided to take a little break. I found a spot on the lawn right at the end of the tarmac and the planes were flying right over me! It was way cool, and I managed to avoid actually being hit by a plane.

I think Rob and I are going to our favorite barbecue place for dinner tonight, then we'll stay in and watch a movie... a nice, quiet Saturday night, just the way I like it.

The Devil Wears a Mandolin

Congratulations to my lover - It's A Joy To Be Hidden's 666th visitor!

I Broke My Cat

This morning I noticed that Elena wasn't putting any weight on her front right paw. Everything else appeared normal - she was eating, using the litter box, even stretching out and using both paws to scratch at her cardboard thing - she just wasn't walking right. She let me touch it and nothing seemed abnormal, no bleeding that I could see, and she wasn't crying or anything.

This is making me so sad. She managed to jump up onto my bed, but couldn't get down and started crying until I came and placed her on the floor. Then she flopped down and leaned against my leg. She's been following me around faithfully all morning, but it's so sad because I know there's something she wants to tell me.

I have an appointment with the vet tomorrow. I cannot stand that my kitten is in pain.

Sightings!

I've seen three cross-dressers in the past few weeks. I wasn't quite ready for this morning's when, bleary eyed at 6am, I was approaching the entrance to the metro station and was passed on the sidewalk by a man making no overt attempt at femininity (wig, makeup, shaved legs, etc) save a pale pink off-the-shoulder sundress and pink sneakers.

Sumptuous Meal

Rob cooked for me last night, the most amazing meal. We had linguine with scallops and shrimp, under a sauce containing sauteed calmatta olives, fennel (yum), orange zest, garlic, tomato, and saffron. I didn't know my kitchen could produce anything other than cereal. I suppose the crucial ingredient was missing - Rob, the most creative and lovely chef ever. Move over Todd English.

Dessert was homemade (!) chocolate mousse, whipped to the perfect smooth, creamy-fluffy consistency. All with glasses of Merlot and two kitties (mine!) frolicking on the side.

Mellowed Out

These pictures were taken with my phone, so they're a bit blurry. <----This is Elena, thinking about taking a little snooze on my bed.








And this is Natasha, who found a little sunbeam---->

The girls are just as cute as can be, all clumsy, running into things and each other. Elena has these huge paws, way too big for her size, which makes her adorable and potentially a large cat! Things are quieting down now - they've figured out that they can get onto my bed if they jump up and then sort of climb the quilt the rest of the way. Too darling. I can't seem to get them in a picture together - maybe once they fall asleep.

Kittyblogging

Here is a picture of my new kitty, Natasha. Her sister, Elena, is a little too excited over all the new toys and scratching posts to be photographed, and even Natasha didn't want to sit still for very long, hence the sloppy shot.

They are so cute and clumsy! Both of them can barely make it up onto my little footstool, they can't make it onto the bed at all. They're lively and fun and so, so cute.

I'm a mommy!

More on Spring Lake

The outdoor shower is the best invention ever. It may even surpass the telephone. There's nothing so decadent as standing totally nude under a strong stream of warm water, staring at the sky and the sun, maybe being spied on by your lover. Pure luxury.

Home Again

Our time in Spring Lake was leisurely beyond comparison. A typical day: wake around 9am, breakfast and tea on the gorgeous, wide, wrap-around porch, read for a few hours on said porch, walk to the beach for some yoga, back to the porch for the afternoon, meet up for dinner, pass the evening over a bottle of wine and some tunes, bed around 11pm.

Rob and I were walking on the boardwalk Monday afternoon when an apocalyptic storm literally overtook us. A storm system is really something else when all you can see is ocean and beach and sky and mean-looking black clouds racing after you.

Adieu

Well, we're off. Going back to Spring Lake almost one year to the DAY since our last visit, which was only a week or so after our relationship truly began.

We just had our one-year anniversary, can you believe it?

I will finally meet my mom's fiance and put my interrogation skills to use. After that effort, I plan to do absolutely nothing but read, practice yoga, sleep, and eat.

See y'all on Wednesday!

My Girls!

I found my kitties! Two-month old calico sisters, waiting just for me. I put in an application at the Humane Society, but now of course I'm all paranoid that I won't be approved.

"Sorry, ma'am, but your apartment just isn't clean enough. And your reasons for wanting to own a cat are not convincing. And I see here that you don't eat breakfast... how can we ensure that you won't waste away and leave these two precious cats all alone? In order to approve the adoption, we'll need you to upgrade to designer furniture, get a breast lift, and get rid of that python that's living in your bathtub."

The adoption process is detailed, but I hope to take my girls home next Thursday!

Ire

I am annoyed at American's who call soccer 'football' and pretend to be interested in the World Cup when I can guarantee you they haven't watch a soccer match all season.

If you have to ask who won the game between England and Ecuador it just shows that you don't actually care enough to watch the game or read the paper and so you should keep your mouth shut and understand that you've just outed yourself as a poseur and annoyed me.

What didn't annoy me today was my dear friend who gave my parched self a much-needed musical compliment. Thank you... maybe I won't give up, after all.

Sad

A moment ago while climbing a medium-steep hill along Military Rd, the car in front of me swerved slightly to the left. I followed suit when I saw the culprit - a soccer ball rolling down the lane, a few feet offset from the center.

A few blocks along and I saw the source: two eight-year old boys standing on the sidewalk in front of a home, looking forlornly down the street.

Strangers On A Train

Perhaps it's because I'm a creature of habit that I end up on the same metro car virtually every morning when I go to work. But it's interesting, because at Metro Center, a couple gets on my car and they intrigue me. The man is white and the woman is black, and they both wear wedding rings. They stand next to each other (the man exits at the very next stop, and the woman in two more stops, so there's no point in vying for a seat, I suppose) but rarely speak. Sometimes the man speaks to her, but I've never seen her speak to him. The woman always has her arms crossed in front of her. When the man's stop comes around, he rubs her back a few times or pats her shoulder, and exits the train.

I don't get the impression that the woman is very happy. Maybe it's the perpetually crossed arms and her refusal to make eye contact with the man. I don't know. Maybe they aren't married to each other and are trying to be reserved in public. Trying to interpret strangers' behavior is always a challenge. Hell, trying to interpret friends' behavior is a challenge, and at least then you've got something concrete to go on.

Kitties

I am committment phobic.

That said, I am thinking of getting kitties!

This is a rather big decision for me.

Less big than if I were thinking of getting a dog.

Having a cat is like having a roommate; having a dog is like having a friend.

In the past, I have sometimes gotten along better with roommates than with friends.

What I call personal space, others would call sensory deprivation.

This is why kitties are better for me than dogs.

And Decades Later...

This.

Tune Party

Spent the majority of yesterday at a lovely house in Cabin John, MD playing tunes and hobknobbing with the who's who of the DC Irish music scene. Had a couple friends in tow, and we enjoyed brats of the grill, more Bitburger than I care to remember, and some great craic.

I woke up this morning with an awful headache, made worse by the sun blaring through my windows. My new blinds still haven't come in - I'm told they should be installed by the earlier part of this coming week, and until then I'll just suffer the incessant summer sun. It's actually quite nice except for when my head is pounding like it was when I woke up this morning. So I'm making my refuge at Rob's house this morning, indulging in tea and TV and kitties and enjoying a few more hours of quiet before what is sure to be a long, hard week at work.

I Can't Stop Stop Stop Stop

I do not like it when people jaywalk. I especially do not like it when people jaywalk in the dark wearing dark clothing. Driving home from taking care of Rob's kitties tonight, I felt like a dartboard the way people were jumping out all over the place into the road. Scary!

About a third of the way home I began to wonder if I left the burner on at Robs house. I had made some tea earlier in the evening, before settling down and pretending like his cats were mine. And then I wondered which would be worse - if I had left the kettle on and would burn the house down overnight, or if I hadn't and kept going back to check. Sudden onset OCD? It's possible. I ended up going back, and sure enough the stove was cold.

My new apartment is so quiet. Really. I can hear a faint hum of traffic, white noise really, and that's it. Nothing from my neighbors. Nothing from neighboring buildings. Just plenty of quiet. So lovely a change from my old apartment which was right off the main lobby. Man. Did I overhear some eeen-teresting conversations ....

This afternoon after the conclusion of a meeting, the conversation turned to music. People confessed to liking all kinds of music - from jazz to country, someone even mentioned Irish (something about how his friend plays bodhran, which probably means that he sits uninvited at the outer edge of a session and bangs on the downbeat. Essentially, he sucks. Sorry, but I'm sure he does) and a good friend of mine at the meeting who's Greek and fascinated by the fact that I play the bouzouki tried to engage me in the musings. I sort of sidestepped and didn't end up saying anything at all pertaining to my love of, and regular immersion in, live traditional Irish sessions. I'm just so sick of talking about myself, and most people wouldn't have the faintest idea what I was talking about, nor would they care.

A quiet weekend at home, Rob is out of town, will be filled with shopping and sleeping and running and tunes.

No Ordinary Man

Today I found out that a friend of mine is this person.

Without trivializing the struggles of ordinary man, Paul's story imbues a much-welcomed perspective in my astonishingly self-centered life.

I pray Isaiah (43:1-3) for him:
"Be not afraid, I am with you always.
I have called you by name, you are Mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.
And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched,
Nor will the flame burn you.
For I am the Lord your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior."

Might As Well Cut Off My Hair

I get so frustrated with myself sometimes. I really am bad at life; I can't do anything right the first time. I can't even purchase a laundry card without wasting $35 just because I'm not bright enough to understand that the machine in this building works differently than the one in my old building.

Sometimes I just feel so inept. Dull, really.

The Weatherman Was Right?!

Yep, he was. The second thunderstorm of the afternoon began with a vengeance exactly when he said it would - which just happened to coincide with the 45-second mark of my 20 minute walk home from Border's in Friendship Heights.

There comes a point when you can't get any wetter. So standing like a drowned rat on Nebraska Ave watching the rush hour traffic splash by while the 35 second Don't Walk sign counted down didn't feel quite like the indignity that it might have if Mother Nature was merely drizzling on me.

So here I sit, stark naked (am I allowed to say that on the internet?) and dripping wet on the floor of my apartment cum box factory listening to the rain pour down outside, my last night in my first home in Washington, DC.

After two long, hard weeks at the office I finally have a bit of time off. Of course, most of it will be spent packing/moving, but I can guarantee this - NONE of it will be spent obeying a 5:15am alarm! And since the movers don't come until late Saturday afternoon, I feel in no rush to get things ready.

I have the whole day off tomorrow and Friday afternoon, too. Circumstances require me to go to work on Friday morning, but hell, in my line of work, time off is always conditional.

I happen to be having a very good hair day, which coincides nicely with my upcoming evening out. Some much-needed music tonight, without the anxiety of waking at daybreak weighing down my enjoyment. Had a nice conversation with a very wise friend (who's spent time living on a real commune! What a free spirit!) who reminded me that when we work too hard we can lost the aspects of life that make us who we truly are. It's been happening to her lately and to me, too.

Gotta run... music calls...

A Woman Has Needs

Right now I am craving:

DQ Blizzard
Shrimp Cocktail
Lamb
Guacamole
Tuna salad
Cheese

T minus 4 Days

Actually... did I do that right? Are you supposed to count the day you start and the day of the event? I just counted the days in between. Whatever.

Things are coming together for my move. I need to make one trip to the thrift store and donate a few things, I have some people coming on Friday to remove my dresser, and then I will just have to pack and wait for the moment.

And that's my life right now. Exciting, ain't it?

Sporting Braids

Although I would love to frequent more quaint cafes such as Teaism or Ollson's for my lunch hour (read: 20 minutes), my Aussie colleague and I usually end up running to Subway for a quick bite. The Nigerian cashier at our particular franchise happens to love (read: loooooove) it when I wear my hair in two braids.

Lately, to his obvious dismay, I've been off the braids in favor of a low, loose ponytail. Today I wore braids and we made a point to hit Subway around 11:30am. My reward? Free cookies for us all! It pays to be adored. But I like best being adored by my amazingly attentive paramour, who, last night, after a long hard day at work, drove me home and had a glass of Australian shiraz ready when I emerged from the shower, moments later placing before me a beautiful plate of perfectly grilled chicken accompanied by a lemon caper sauce and steamed asparagus.

Disclaimer, lest a concerned mother voice her hesitancy about me not taking a long enough lunch hour: I take a short one so I can leave work a bit before 3pm. And I do take morning and afternoon breaks, as well. I'm far from being a workaholic!

Learning Curve

I like self-improvement. Call me a dork, go ahead, but I really enjoy making little resolutions throughout the year. Building on one's strengths and improving one's weaknesses are worthy pursuits even once the glow of the New Year vigor has passed.

So, this evening I picked up the banjo again. I had given it a nice long rest without realizing, and now I have a learning curve again.

Quips

Home from work today and went straight to bed for a 1 hour nap. Ah, the life....

Talked with Rob the other day about how Hispanics tend to have less of an issue sharing personal space, as a culture. My dear friend Stephanie, who's Columbian, has concurred in so many ways throughout our friendship.

I told Rob: what I call my personal space others would call sensory deprivation.

Neurotic Mental Organization

I am moving in a few weeks. I hate moving. Here are my options:

1. Hire movers (with van).
2. Rent a U-Haul and hire people to help load/unload.
3. Rent a U-Haul and hire the two buff Tswana guys who live next door.
4. Rent a U-Haul and see if my brother will help.
5. Give all my stuff away, move an empty car, and start completely over.

Options One and Two will actually cost about the same. Options Three and Four are viable (and cheaper) but I'd like to minimize the aggravation through which I put my family and friends. I'm not brave enough for Option Five.

Helpppppp...........

Scary Dream

Last night I dreamt that I met a guy who was interested in something and wanted to show me, so I got in his car. We drove south of DC (to Chesterville? Not a real place?) and I kept saying that I had to be back by nine. We kept driving and driving and never got to where he wanted to show me something, and he kept turning the clock back when I wasn't looking to delay 9pm when apparently I would begin freaking out (because I would know then that he wasn't going to take me home). I knew that I had been kidnapped anyway, though, so I made an excuse to get out and go to the bathroom and I called 911 and asked them to send help using the GPS in my cell phone.

Then the perspective of the dream switched and I was watching the GPS locator, I was the red dot and my kidnapper was a green dot, and we were moving around a few feet from each other and the suddenly the green dot consumed the red and then suddenly I was there, watching myself get tackled and watching him frantically dig a grave while I kicked and struggled, and then back to the GPS locator again and another green dot, the police, and I was saved.

Bad At Life

In order to recreate an incredible meal Rob made for me a few weeks ago (chorizo and shrimp quesadillas with homemade guacamole) I did my part and went to the grocery store, armed with a list.

Do not, I told Rob earlier that day, assume that I have ANYTHING on hand. I am a bachelor. My refrigerator is bare. I do not cook. I do not have spices. Give me a list with EVERYTHING on it that we need and I will buy things and all you have to do is come over and cook for me.

Simple, eh? Well, apparently I'm a total bumbling ditz in a grocery store. One elderly man watched me turn in circles in front of the meat counter and asked if he could help.

Oh no, thanks, I'm just lost.

Well, what are you looking for? Maybe I can help!

Er... thanks... but I think I'm lost in a much more general sense.

In the end, I was not able to locate the following items:
Chorizo sausages (1/2 lb.)
Tortillas (medium sizes, one package)
Fresh cilantro (one bunch - I found fresh everything EXCEPT for cilantro!)

Now granted, I went to Whole Foods, which is not the most easily navigated grocery store. But still. TORTILLAS? How hard can they be to find? But alas. I found every sort of other flat bread imaginable. Just no tortillas.

Thankfully, Rob is much more savvy than am I. He responded gallantly to my pathetic text message, ("I'm bad at life") and offered to fill in the blanks. A gorgeous meal awaits!

Paraphrasing

Rob told me recently of a scene (in Moby Dick?) where the character is saying something to the effect of, you can't really appreciate being underneath a warm blanket unless your toe or nose or some part of your body is sticking out and feels how cold the room is.

The same holds true emotionally, I think. It's impossible to realize you're safe unless a part of you is always scared.

Breaking the Ice

Tuesday night. Panera Bread in Silver Spring. Walter and I are having our usual sign-language-and-steaming-cup-of-decadent-hot-chocolate rendez-vous, and we're having a typical conversation. The gist is that I am not confident enough about my sign skills to break the ice and introduce myself when I see other people signing in public places.

Since looking at deaf people essentially amounts to eavesdropping, behaving correctly around signers can be tricky. The best thing to do, I've found, is to break in, say something small-talkish, and immediately then go back to your reading or looking out the window or people-watching or whatever. This shows the signers that you aren't staring voyeuristically and also that you understand the cultural rules.

The problem is that I totally freeze up. What are you supposed to say, exactly, to break the ice in a couth manner? Walter suggested simply asking, "Are you deaf?" Please understand that deaf culture is extremely blunt, and such a question is by no means considered rude.

I mulled it over, and we turned our attention to The DaVinci Code movie.

As Walter walked me to my car, I noticed two guys about my age having a conversation in sign language. I got their attention and asked if they were deaf. Walter cracked up like it was the funniest thing he's ever seen, signed that he was proud of me, and the four of us chatted for a while about where our new friends should go for dinner, where we all worked, and (in my case) how long we've been learning sign language. He was right - it was easy, succinct, broke the ice for further conversation, conveyed the appropriate cultural signals, and who knows... maybe I'll make some new friends, too.

Maturity Is Something Other Than Being Dull

Quoth my dear friend and coveted companion while extolling some of the lesser known virtues that I have in common with his beloved, who far surpasses me as a woman in every way. Regardless, I am always appreciative of the brief but thorough feeling of grace and sophistication which comes over me while dining with he who shall remain nameless (in an effort to quell the unintended publicity that tends to come his way as an accomplished and oft discussed journalist, historian, classicist, and author).

I've written about him before, more eloquently than I shall tonight, as being a friend who knows me deeply, who knows me only as one who understands the HC can understand me, who makes me feel at my best, womanly, sirenly, intelligently, enchantingly.

I look forward this summer to many more glasses of wine and talks tottering between irreverent and intellectual.

Exhale

Feeling much better since my last post. I have a new apartment which is a lovely studio with a sunroom in my own beloved neighborhood. I had a great week at work and everyone there has been kept happy.

Now I am relaxing, my usual Friday night in. I have a film and a bottle of wine. Formal yoga practice followed by a hot shower, and now I am ready for a lovely weekend.

Rob is taking me to his favorite sushi restaurant tomorrow night which, alarmingly, I've yet to experience. Aside from that I have a few good friends in town who I intend to keep company, a nice long run waiting for me tomorrow, a few naps, some music, some reading, and some nothing.

Let it commence!

Discomfort

I hate indecision. I hate when things are not clear. I am uncomfortable when plans are nebulous; I can't handle standing on the verge of being displaced. I don't like being a stranger in my own home. I don't like being (feeling) uprooted.

I am distracted at work now and can't concentrate on anything. I want to go back to my apartment and do yoga and make tea and nap.

I want to settle in somewhere for months and years and have a home of my own.

All Is Vanity

Some of you may not know this, but I am obsessed with my collarbones. They have become a bit more pronounced lately due to some carefully crafted yoga series' targeting the upper body. This is a good thing.

Sometimes I dream that I'm looking in the mirror and I have these beautiful bony, fragile collarbones.

Tonight I'm having dinner downtown with Stephanie to celebrate her first completed year of law school!

DMV Exp.

One would think, given that the DC DMV is located on the first floor of my building, that the convenience of location would temper the frustration of procedure. Not necessarily true. Today, however, was an exception.

I made it through the pre-screening process, where a brusque lady made sure I had all my paperwork in order, and took a seat, by chance, next to Counter Thirteen. The woman taking care of her vehicle registration at Counter Thirteen had almost finished as I was taking my seat, and I saw her not only thank the attendant she was dealing with but reach across to grasp the attendant's hand, look right into her eyes, and laud her profusely. I was intrigued by that point. Since when did the DMV start hiring customer service personnel worthy of such praise?

Twenty long minutes later my number was called. I waited impatiently for the screen to flash my counter number. Thirteen! Yes!

"Oh my god," I breathed to the attendant, "I was hoping to get your counter after I saw that other woman leave here so happy!"

"Oh baby you've come to the right place then, I'll take care of everything you need."

And she did! But I still have to pay a $100 parking ticket. Yeah. My fault. No contesting it. Failure to display proper tags. Which resulted from a failure to receive the tag renewal in the mail, which is because I never officially changed my address when I moved a year ago, so the DMV doesn't know where I live. So whatever, at least now my car won't get towed, and I feel a sudden urge to commit a random act of kindness, all on account of the DC DMV. Have stranger things happened?

Spoiled

Dinner tonight is New York strip steaks with red wine shallot sauce and mushrooms stuffed with a lovely blend of bread crumbs, chopped mushroom stems, chopped pecans, garlic, and Herbes de Province - topped with grated parmesan cheese and complimented by Belgian beer.

And the best thing is, I cooked it all!

(If by 'cooked' you mean topped with parmesan cheese and by 'all' you mean the mushrooms.)

Attempts At Writing Well

I don't enjoy writing anymore.

When I was at the HC, regularly required to submit exegeses on arcane concepts wrought in classical Greek literature, I took great pleasure in smoothing out on paper the cultural and intellectual complications seeding in my mind.

Now, all I seem to write is narrative. At work, I'm bound to technical memos and documents which require standardized language. If I'm composing an analytic report pertaining to a certain crime event, I must standardize my language so that if the document goes to court it looks and sounds like other documents of it's type. It's not meant to be a place for creative expression.

My blog has the potential to be a cathartic outlet, but instead I just write about what I did the day before, in bullet points mainly, without exploration or seeking clarity. I want to be compelled to write, to feel as though my head will explode unless I get my thoughts down on paper. I used to feel that way all the time. But I used to be innundated with inspiration and example. I used to be immersed in an environment representing the very pinnacle of classical thought and intellectual rigor. Now, I work for the police department.

Moment

Beginning my run in Rock Creek Park this lovely, cool, sunny evening I saw a female duck napping between the trail and the river, her head tucked beneath her wing. The mallard was standing next to her, looking around and keeping faithful watch.

Reminded me of Rob and me, early on Sunday mornings when he wakes with the dawn and I sleep in.

Downsizing

The spring cleaning fever has hit me. I am prone to becoming obsessed with downsizing. Right now I am waiting for the college hunks to come take away my old pine desk. I might have them quote me on a price to remove my dresser as well...

I am obsessed with having only things that I can move myself. Right now, I own 3 - soon 2 - pieces of furniture that I cannot move myself. This makes me nervous. I guess it's a control issue...

If I move in the next month or so, I think I will get rid of the dresser... it would be a good opportunity to get one that is a bit smaller, one that I could handle by myself.

Is there a theme here? I don't know... I always think, what if there's some sort of emergency and I have to move quickly and there's no one to help me? I panic when I think of being tied to a location because of possessions. Ideally, I would like for everything I own to fit in my car. That way I would be totally free.

Live Wire

Welp, I'm online. Live! Wired! Blogging from home!

It's actually kind of nice to be able to take care of things from home now, on my own time, to research items of personal interest without feeling guilty or waiting until a lunch break...

Had an excellent day today. I might have news, but I'm going to wait until things are more clear before I say anything publicly. The last thing I want to do is retract a joyous proclamation.

I Want To Stay Still, But I Can't

My rent is increasing. A lot. Not more than I can afford, but more than I'm willing to abide.

So I'm thinking about moving. Rather, I'm thinking about whether or not staying in my apartment would depress me just on principle. I have a lovely apartment in a beautiful, safe, tree-lined neighborhood. But I don't want to pay four figures for it.

But I'm not a risk-taker. I like things to be safe. I don't want to give notice that I'm moving unless I have another apartment lined up. But I have to give notice in 7 days. If 7 days go by and I haven't found another apartment, will I still give notice? How strong are my principles?

It's not that I'm afraid I'll be homeless, it's that I'm afraid that I'll wind up being forced to take an apartment that is either inordinately expensive, or unsafe. It's that I'll have to compromise. It's that I'll have to take something short-term and then move again in a matter of week. It's that I prefer a comfortable, convenient life.

Oh Lord, please don't turn this into a lesson in learning to live on the outer edges of my boundaries...

Ignorami

What is the plural of 'ravioli'?

Is it 'ravioli'?

I hate it when people say 'raviolis.'

I Am Torn

Well, I was torn, but now I think I know what to do.

Here's the situation.

I have a brand-new Dell computer at home that I never use. Sometimes I draft MS Word documents before handcopying onto stationery, I sometimes keep track of running progress, every now and then I burn a CD. But most days, the computer is left untouched.

So the only way to actually use my computer, which I want to do because I paid for it and it's there, is to restore internet access at home. But I even under-utilize the internet, as all I ever do is check email and maybe get directions from time to time.

So do I get rid of the computer or restore the internet?

I have decided. I am coming back online, as painful as this is.

There are some advantages, though, like not having to use my work computer to do this like *THIS* and check bank accounts, other personal business...

But... I... my pride... my asceticism... what will happen to me?

Because I Don't Do Enough Gushing...

Have I ever mentioned that my boyfriend is an amazing cook? And not only that, but he aims to please. His home is basically my restaurant. I place my breakfast order the night before, he goes shopping while I sleep in, and cooks to order while I lounge around on the couch watching trashy Sunday morning TV.

Once he made this amazing apple compote that we had over blueberry pancakes. His omelettes (eggs with feta cheese, spinach, and sauteed shallot) come with slab bacon AND tea AND hot chocolate.

For dinner last week he made shrimp and chorizo quesadillas with guacamole which can I just say he MADE FROM SCRATCH with all sort of yummy ingredients.

Before I'm labeled a spoiled brat (which actually I won't deny) I WILL say that I try my best to make sure the dishes are done before we part ways for the day. But still. I get the better end of the deal.

Chugging Tea Like An Englishwoman

I'm in that oh-so-frustrating stage where I'm pretty sure I'm about to get sick, and I'm pretty sure that there's nothing I can do to stop it.

It will probably be a common cold, although coming down with the plague would be kind of interesting. Hell, if you're gonna get sick you might as well get the plague. It's much more fun to call in sick to work if you have the plague.

Apparently a donzen or so people come down with the plague every year, and most don't die.

Sign for Spring

I just adore the weather we've been having in DC lately. This morning it was 62 degrees when I left for work at 6am, but it's only going to get to 73 degrees for the high this afternoon! Perfect!

The other lovely thing is that it's light out now when I wake up. I firmly believe in not being awake before the sun. There's something so depressing about crawling out of bed in the dark, sure that the majority of people nearby are still snug in their beds awaiting a 7am alarm. But when it's light out it feels later than it is, it even feels natural to be up and moving about.

Which is not to say that I enjoy waking as early as I do. But I enjoy the long afternoon ahead of me when my early shift is over.

I've worked 10-11 hour shifts the past two days. Last night I got home around 6:30, had a glass of wine and a hot shower, and was fast asleep by 8:30. Sad, I know, but I feel great today; well rested and ready to exact justice.

Is Breaking Up Hard To Do?

Having never been through an official breakup (although something once felt like it), I am exploring this topic anew. Naive, maybe. But admittedly.

Just as I cannot imagine two people transitioning seamlessly from lovers to friends, I cannot imagine transitioning seamlessly from lovers to nothing.

Given that neither party is unquestionably angry or hurt (having been cheated on, mistreated, etc), is it not possible to part ways carefully and communicatively? Lovingly, even? People can grow apart and concede that they would be happier separated without turning into drooling, possessive, defensive monsters? How is it that two people who treat each other with care one week can so easily become neglectful and hurtful the next?

Maybe my 'given' is too much of one to ask.

Fogo de Chao

I got paid for some overtime at work and decided to take Rob out to dinner at Fogo de Chao, one in a string of amazing restaurants on Pennsylvania Ave NW between 6th St and 12th St. We knew a little bit behind the concept of the cuisine there but, based on our frames of mind and body upon finishing, were clearly not prepared for the succulence and abundance within.

The menu is price-fixe and therefore the meat (Fogo de Chao is a Brazilian steakhouse) is continiuous and unending. The diner indicates that he or she is ready to eat by turning a little disc from the red to green side up. Almost instantly, the gaucho servers appear with one of fifteen different cuts of meat that they slice directly from skewers onto your plate.

The meat keeps coming (and I mean it keeps coming) until you turn your disc to the red side, indicating that you need a break. Return it to the green side and the gauchos appear again, like magic!

For meat-lovers such as the two of us, this place was pure heaven... and now that we've gorged ourselves senseless, next time we will refrain from sprinting to the finish and try to pace our stride a little more evenly.

Now I know why gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins. And why, if given the chance, a horse will eat itself to death. Because it feels so, so good while you're doing it.....

This will be a post of randomly disconnected thoughts.

I cannot figure out how to put a title bar on this blog.

This morning on the metro someone was clipping their fingernails. Gross. Sorry, but I think that personal hygiene should be, well, personal.

I am not a fan of wearing running shoes with a business suit. Even if it's just for the walk from the parking lot into the office, where the person will then change into more appropriate shoes. If your dress shoes aren't comfortable enough to walk in, don't buy them, don't wear them. But please, don't submit us bright-eyed morning commuters to your own way of fixing the problem of uncomfortable shoes. I can't take it before 8am.

Tonight I am going to see a deaf interpretation of Much Ado About Nothing. I'm not sure I could even understand the play in English, let alone in American Sign Language, but we'll see!