Now that I have your attention.
One of my most favorite people in the whole wide world (you know who you are, Irene) says that phrase all the time. She says it spastically and for different reasons. WG says it, because it's the name of some college football player (USC?), and I say it, because I like the way it rolls of my tongue.
How can you say those words and NOT smile? Seriously.
Anywho, I'm a bit giddy. Maybe spastic is a better word.
This evening, I am having a party.
The first party since December, and I've been aching to entertain every since.
And did I mention WG's birthday is on Tuesday?
The perfect excuse, right?
So, the apartment is clean. I've bought too many chips, a lot of beer (but it's the good stuff...in bottles), some quality wine (according to wine.com), made dip, made a birthday cake (with a recipe I got from WG's mother), set out the ingredients for WG to make his queso and will pick up pizza on the way home from work.
I'm giddy and spastic and ready for fun.
I wonder if I have time to learn how to play poker?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Real World Wednesday
Going Green.
When recycling first hit the news, like fifteen years ago, I was all over it. My little fourth-grade self got my family in check. I organized our recycling bins. I made sure we cut those plastic thingees off the six-packs of soda. I ensured that we emptied and crushed our cans before taking them over to the recycling place.
I don't know what happened.
It's time to reclaim the green.
Smitten Kitchen recently linked to a post about greening up the kitchen, and this just spurred on my desire to try to limit my impact on the environment.
I will never drive a Prius, but I do drive a Civic, which is an Ultra Low Emission Vehicle. and gets excellent gas mileage.
I have recently attempted to stop making my contribution to the plastic water bottle overload:
According to the Contra Costa Times:
In 2006, 28.3 billion gallons of bottled water were sold in the United States, according to a report by Beverage Marketing Corp. About 86 percent of those bottles were thrown away, not recycled -- alarming to environmentalists because a buried water bottle takes up to 1,000 years to biodegrade, says the Container Recycling Institute. (emphasis added)
So, transitioning to my trusty little pink store-bought,reuable water container is something easy that I can do. And that you can do, too. Check out these great water bottles with which you can accessorize your newly green self (this might just be because everyone and their mother had one in Berkeley, but I need options that go beyond the Nalgene):
HipSips Diva Water Bottle
Stainless Steel Water Bottles
Camel Bak Water Bottle
Other resources for going green:
Tips from National Geographic
Tips from Oprah
The Washington Post Chips In
Living an eco-friendly existence, even just one tiny step at a time, will ensure that our planet is around, in a livable way, as we get older and as the generations that come after us are born.
What are some ways that you can cut down on your environmental impact?
When recycling first hit the news, like fifteen years ago, I was all over it. My little fourth-grade self got my family in check. I organized our recycling bins. I made sure we cut those plastic thingees off the six-packs of soda. I ensured that we emptied and crushed our cans before taking them over to the recycling place.
I don't know what happened.
It's time to reclaim the green.
Smitten Kitchen recently linked to a post about greening up the kitchen, and this just spurred on my desire to try to limit my impact on the environment.
I will never drive a Prius, but I do drive a Civic, which is an Ultra Low Emission Vehicle. and gets excellent gas mileage.
I have recently attempted to stop making my contribution to the plastic water bottle overload:
According to the Contra Costa Times:
In 2006, 28.3 billion gallons of bottled water were sold in the United States, according to a report by Beverage Marketing Corp. About 86 percent of those bottles were thrown away, not recycled -- alarming to environmentalists because a buried water bottle takes up to 1,000 years to biodegrade, says the Container Recycling Institute. (emphasis added)
So, transitioning to my trusty little pink store-bought,reuable water container is something easy that I can do. And that you can do, too. Check out these great water bottles with which you can accessorize your newly green self (this might just be because everyone and their mother had one in Berkeley, but I need options that go beyond the Nalgene):
HipSips Diva Water Bottle
Stainless Steel Water Bottles
Camel Bak Water Bottle
Other resources for going green:
Tips from National Geographic
Tips from Oprah
The Washington Post Chips In
Living an eco-friendly existence, even just one tiny step at a time, will ensure that our planet is around, in a livable way, as we get older and as the generations that come after us are born.
What are some ways that you can cut down on your environmental impact?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
By The Way, I Covet Your House
Saturday evening brought us to Napa, for a party hosted by WG's former co-worker and his wife.
It was a Queso party. A Queso taste-off, because, apparently, in California, people don't know what Queso is. I knew what it was before the fortunate appearance of WG in my life, but only because I bought it once at Cost Plus. It's not exactly a common household treat, although if WG's batch is a good example, it may very well become one.
For those of you who don't know, Queso is essentially melted Velveeta and then whatever spices the chef chooses to throw into the Crock Pot, and yes, a Crock Pot is required. I wasn't aware that that many people under 40 actually owned a Crock Pot, but it's true, Crock Pots are quickly becoming the must-have cooking tool of the hipster generation.
Anywho, the party's hosts are originally from Texas, so they know a great deal about Queso and invited anyone else who did to make a batch. WG's came in second, but he insists he would have come in first had the winner not "garnished" her batch with fresh cilantro, tomatoes and avocado. I tend to agree, and not just because I'm biased, but because his did really taste better to my discerning palate.
Cheesy goodness aside, the thing about this party was the house. The couple rents a home in Napa in a semi-shady, semi-decent neighborhood. It's an older (think 1930's) cottage with one bedroom, one bathroom, a small kitchen, and two sitting areas. And a ginormous backyard. They pay about $200 less a month than I do, and they have hard wood floors, crown molding and a ginormous backyard (did I mention that one already?).
Walking into the house was like walking into an exact image of the home I would like to have someday (although hopefully with more bedrooms). The place is small but functional, the hardwood floors are shiny and original. The kitchen had a fair amount of counter space. The washer and dryer were IN THE BATHROOM. And did I mention the ginormous, landscaped backyard?
Lounging in the backyard, in the perfect Napa weather (WG knows he's spoiled, and that picture perfect weather is one of the reasons I'm hesitant to move, as I might get used to it...as of right now I live in a part of town that's, according to WG, "windier than Oklahoma," and I feel like I'm earning my stripes), talking with new people, I was content.
When we first walked in the door, WG introduced me, and his co-worker looked at me and looked at him and said, "So, she does exist!" Another woman, the wife of another former co-worker, upon being introduced to me, scrunched up her forehead, stared at me and said, "You're a librarian, right?" She'd remembered that tidbit about me, because she, herself, works in a museum with a research library and, thus, finds libraries endlessly fascinating.
Everyone assumed we lived together, or that I, at least, lived in Napa. They were a bit startled to learn that we don't yet co-habitat, because everyone couple at the party either was married or lives together, but it didn't make me crave a rush to the altar. When I don't feel that deep craving for a ring and a joint checking account, I'm always a bit relieved.
WG talked shop with a few folks, and I ended up settling down in a corner of the yard, near the Queso tasting table, of course, with a woman who had an interesting story to tell. She talked about her undergraduate education, she talked about being 32 and pregnant with her first child, she talked about her husband being two years younger than her. We talked about music, websites, recipes. We just talked and talked and talked. It was lovely.
Hours later, full of cheese and Texas beer, we loitered near the kitchen, a couple of different groups still talking. I wandered back inside after being bored to tears during one paritcular winery conversation.
Me: They're talking shop, so I'm moving in here.
Hostess's Sister: We're talking about boobs!
Me to Hostess's Sister's Boyfriend, the only male in the room: Well, you wandered into the right conversation!
Him (looking frightened): Uh...yeah...I'm just staying here because it's gotten cold outside.
Sister: Didn't you bring your jacket?
Him: Yes! I did!
and that man ran out of the room faster than you could say "breastmilk.
Because that's what the conversation was actually about. Breastmilk. How to pump it. When to pump it. When to STOP breastfeeding.
The conversation quickly turned into another, less frightening topic, WG came inside and slide his arm around my waist, "Ready to go?"
And the pregnant woman said with excitement, "Okay, you guys HAVE to come the next time they have a party. Or just get together with them and make sure they invite us. You are awesome."
We got back in the car, I relaxed against the passenger seat and thought happy thoughts about having successfully met more of WG's friends and sent myself happy thoughts about meeting the ones that really count at Thanksgiving.
But I really want that house.
It was a Queso party. A Queso taste-off, because, apparently, in California, people don't know what Queso is. I knew what it was before the fortunate appearance of WG in my life, but only because I bought it once at Cost Plus. It's not exactly a common household treat, although if WG's batch is a good example, it may very well become one.
For those of you who don't know, Queso is essentially melted Velveeta and then whatever spices the chef chooses to throw into the Crock Pot, and yes, a Crock Pot is required. I wasn't aware that that many people under 40 actually owned a Crock Pot, but it's true, Crock Pots are quickly becoming the must-have cooking tool of the hipster generation.
Anywho, the party's hosts are originally from Texas, so they know a great deal about Queso and invited anyone else who did to make a batch. WG's came in second, but he insists he would have come in first had the winner not "garnished" her batch with fresh cilantro, tomatoes and avocado. I tend to agree, and not just because I'm biased, but because his did really taste better to my discerning palate.
Cheesy goodness aside, the thing about this party was the house. The couple rents a home in Napa in a semi-shady, semi-decent neighborhood. It's an older (think 1930's) cottage with one bedroom, one bathroom, a small kitchen, and two sitting areas. And a ginormous backyard. They pay about $200 less a month than I do, and they have hard wood floors, crown molding and a ginormous backyard (did I mention that one already?).
Walking into the house was like walking into an exact image of the home I would like to have someday (although hopefully with more bedrooms). The place is small but functional, the hardwood floors are shiny and original. The kitchen had a fair amount of counter space. The washer and dryer were IN THE BATHROOM. And did I mention the ginormous, landscaped backyard?
Lounging in the backyard, in the perfect Napa weather (WG knows he's spoiled, and that picture perfect weather is one of the reasons I'm hesitant to move, as I might get used to it...as of right now I live in a part of town that's, according to WG, "windier than Oklahoma," and I feel like I'm earning my stripes), talking with new people, I was content.
When we first walked in the door, WG introduced me, and his co-worker looked at me and looked at him and said, "So, she does exist!" Another woman, the wife of another former co-worker, upon being introduced to me, scrunched up her forehead, stared at me and said, "You're a librarian, right?" She'd remembered that tidbit about me, because she, herself, works in a museum with a research library and, thus, finds libraries endlessly fascinating.
Everyone assumed we lived together, or that I, at least, lived in Napa. They were a bit startled to learn that we don't yet co-habitat, because everyone couple at the party either was married or lives together, but it didn't make me crave a rush to the altar. When I don't feel that deep craving for a ring and a joint checking account, I'm always a bit relieved.
WG talked shop with a few folks, and I ended up settling down in a corner of the yard, near the Queso tasting table, of course, with a woman who had an interesting story to tell. She talked about her undergraduate education, she talked about being 32 and pregnant with her first child, she talked about her husband being two years younger than her. We talked about music, websites, recipes. We just talked and talked and talked. It was lovely.
Hours later, full of cheese and Texas beer, we loitered near the kitchen, a couple of different groups still talking. I wandered back inside after being bored to tears during one paritcular winery conversation.
Me: They're talking shop, so I'm moving in here.
Hostess's Sister: We're talking about boobs!
Me to Hostess's Sister's Boyfriend, the only male in the room: Well, you wandered into the right conversation!
Him (looking frightened): Uh...yeah...I'm just staying here because it's gotten cold outside.
Sister: Didn't you bring your jacket?
Him: Yes! I did!
and that man ran out of the room faster than you could say "breastmilk.
Because that's what the conversation was actually about. Breastmilk. How to pump it. When to pump it. When to STOP breastfeeding.
The conversation quickly turned into another, less frightening topic, WG came inside and slide his arm around my waist, "Ready to go?"
And the pregnant woman said with excitement, "Okay, you guys HAVE to come the next time they have a party. Or just get together with them and make sure they invite us. You are awesome."
We got back in the car, I relaxed against the passenger seat and thought happy thoughts about having successfully met more of WG's friends and sent myself happy thoughts about meeting the ones that really count at Thanksgiving.
But I really want that house.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Steps Forward Induce a Mild State of Confusion in 20-Something Woman
Sundays were getting harder and harder to handle. A couple of weeks ago, I nearly shed tears when he left for the day, and I can't even tell you why. I decided months ago that I actually enjoyed my Sunday evenings. I could take care of some of my special things like watching a movie no one would want to watch with me, catching up on e-mail and blogs, reading, working out, just filling my evening and feeling better prepared for the week at hand.
Last Wednesday, I headed up to Napa, and after about 1/2 an hour of me reading and him wandering around World of Warcraft, he brought up the topic of changing our date night from Wednesday to Monday. What this means is that I would see him on Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, unless either of us needed one of those nights for something else. This extends our time together by about a day and a half. No more would Sunday nights end at 5 p.m. And when I have Mondays off, every other month, he'll just come to my place, or I'll head to his, and we'll have a whole afternoon together. This is MORE time together, for the first time since our sad attempt at him "staying" with me.
And I am thrilled.
And when I think about the fact that no matter how much I enjoyed spacing out on the couch with my cat snuggled beside me, I still wanted him there, well then, I should be thrilled.
But last night was the first of those Sundays, and waking up this morning I felt a bit out of sorts. Granted, I could have gone to the gym instead of taking a nap. I could have run to the grocery store and left him to handle his own business, but I didn't want to. I was dappled and drowsy and ready for sleep, and this week, I am starting out completely relaxed.
But also mildly confused.
Although we're not moving in together, last week and this morning, I felt a bit like that Friends episode when Chandler wants to move in with Monica.
Chandler: "How about if I unpack my stuff here."
Monica: "Well, then, all of your stuff would be here."
Chandler: "Yeah...."
Monica: "But then, you'd be going back and forth all the time, and that just doesn't make any sense."
Chandler: "How about if we live together and you understand what I'm saying!
I almost told him last night, "Hey, you need to put away your computer, 'cause you'll be in a rush in the morning," but I didn't. After he'd left, I realized, "Oh, he didn't need to pack up his computer 'cause he'll be BACK HERE tonight." I'm grateful that sometimes I can plug things into my brain and wake up with them making sense.
This whole more time together is marvelous but also strange and new.
Last Wednesday, I headed up to Napa, and after about 1/2 an hour of me reading and him wandering around World of Warcraft, he brought up the topic of changing our date night from Wednesday to Monday. What this means is that I would see him on Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, unless either of us needed one of those nights for something else. This extends our time together by about a day and a half. No more would Sunday nights end at 5 p.m. And when I have Mondays off, every other month, he'll just come to my place, or I'll head to his, and we'll have a whole afternoon together. This is MORE time together, for the first time since our sad attempt at him "staying" with me.
And I am thrilled.
And when I think about the fact that no matter how much I enjoyed spacing out on the couch with my cat snuggled beside me, I still wanted him there, well then, I should be thrilled.
But last night was the first of those Sundays, and waking up this morning I felt a bit out of sorts. Granted, I could have gone to the gym instead of taking a nap. I could have run to the grocery store and left him to handle his own business, but I didn't want to. I was dappled and drowsy and ready for sleep, and this week, I am starting out completely relaxed.
But also mildly confused.
Although we're not moving in together, last week and this morning, I felt a bit like that Friends episode when Chandler wants to move in with Monica.
Chandler: "How about if I unpack my stuff here."
Monica: "Well, then, all of your stuff would be here."
Chandler: "Yeah...."
Monica: "But then, you'd be going back and forth all the time, and that just doesn't make any sense."
Chandler: "How about if we live together and you understand what I'm saying!
I almost told him last night, "Hey, you need to put away your computer, 'cause you'll be in a rush in the morning," but I didn't. After he'd left, I realized, "Oh, he didn't need to pack up his computer 'cause he'll be BACK HERE tonight." I'm grateful that sometimes I can plug things into my brain and wake up with them making sense.
This whole more time together is marvelous but also strange and new.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Sometimes I Wish I was Fearless
When I was younger, I was physically fearless. I climbed trees. I hopped fences. I walked barefoot in a muddy creek, despite being warned that I might catch all kinds of diseases. Actually, I walked barefoot a lot of outdoorsy places wehre I was warned that all kinds of things could happen to me, but that was because my grandmother was freakin' paranoid about just about everything. Anyway, I didn't go through a day, let alone a week, without creating a new scar, or at least a new scab. I was fearless.
I'm less fearless with my body these days. I'd like to climb a tree. Better yet, I'd like to jump off a swing in mid-air.
But I've never been fearless with my emotions or with my future.
A while back, I had a blinkie that said, "Destined to be an old woman with no regrets," well, for me, that's more of a goal I'm actively working towards than a given. More like, "Hoping that I don't have regrets when I'm older."
In college, I was so careful with my future that I didn't go out and socialize nearly as much as I would have liked. Given the opportunity, knowing what I know now, I would have gone out a lot more - dates, with friends, parties, the works. I spent far too much time doing things that didn't matter (because really, would I have gotten a worse grade on a Shakespeare essay if I'd spent just a little less time on it? Probably not). It's not like I was a science major, people.
As for my emotions, well, I've never been truly fearless. By the time I was ten, I was starting to wonder if I was being invited to parties out of friendship or pity. By high school, when I wasn't invited to parties, I figured I had the answer. It's only been in the last couple of years that I've stopped questioning an invite and just gone on to have a grand ole time at a party. I spent a lot of time worrying about things that didn't matter (because hey, a party's a party, why not just go, have fun and not question the motivation of the host?).
My life is a lot more fun now. I got over being the one who initiates a lot of gatherings, have started saying "yes" to more, unquestioned invitations and have finally, at 26, started to realize that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me. People aren't out to hurt my feelings, and I can be responsible for my own emotions.
Emotions aside, though, I'd like to go climb a tree...
I'm less fearless with my body these days. I'd like to climb a tree. Better yet, I'd like to jump off a swing in mid-air.
But I've never been fearless with my emotions or with my future.
A while back, I had a blinkie that said, "Destined to be an old woman with no regrets," well, for me, that's more of a goal I'm actively working towards than a given. More like, "Hoping that I don't have regrets when I'm older."
In college, I was so careful with my future that I didn't go out and socialize nearly as much as I would have liked. Given the opportunity, knowing what I know now, I would have gone out a lot more - dates, with friends, parties, the works. I spent far too much time doing things that didn't matter (because really, would I have gotten a worse grade on a Shakespeare essay if I'd spent just a little less time on it? Probably not). It's not like I was a science major, people.
As for my emotions, well, I've never been truly fearless. By the time I was ten, I was starting to wonder if I was being invited to parties out of friendship or pity. By high school, when I wasn't invited to parties, I figured I had the answer. It's only been in the last couple of years that I've stopped questioning an invite and just gone on to have a grand ole time at a party. I spent a lot of time worrying about things that didn't matter (because hey, a party's a party, why not just go, have fun and not question the motivation of the host?).
My life is a lot more fun now. I got over being the one who initiates a lot of gatherings, have started saying "yes" to more, unquestioned invitations and have finally, at 26, started to realize that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me. People aren't out to hurt my feelings, and I can be responsible for my own emotions.
Emotions aside, though, I'd like to go climb a tree...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Things That Were Said
Him: I secretly like your planning.
Me: Why?
Him: Because we get to do stuff that wouldn't ordinarily get done.
Me (sarcastically): That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
***
Me: I want to play World of Warcraft!
Him: Here, play the Paladin. You created her, and I haven't played her yet.
Me: I did?? Are you sure?
Him: Yes.
Me: Oh, that's right. I remember designing this character for you. She's got red hair and green eyes - your ideal woman.
Him: No, you're my ideal woman.
Me: Good job, sweetie.
***
Me: That's it. I'm not mad at you anymore.
Him: Really? Whoa. You are totally okay. That is awesome.
***
Me: What are you doing?
Him: I'm making dinner.
Me: I feel like I should get up and help with something.
Him: If you feel completely compelled to do that, then help, but otherwise, sit there and play.
Me: Huh? What? Sorry, I was just killing this arcane core dude.
***
I'm in the bathroom, he keeps talking at me through the door about pretty much nothing. I get out of the bathroom.
Him: So, was that good? Do you feel loved and talked to and appreciated?
Me: Is that why you were talking to me through the bathroom door? I thought you were lonely!
***
Me: I love you.
Him: I love you, too. I love you, too. I love you, too.
***
And just for grins (and the fact that I just know that when he's 80, we will be having this same conversation).
Him: Hey! You're home early.
Me: Yep, I didn't know until right before if it would happen, so no point in telling you.
Him: Yeah, but I was gonna put on pants!
Me: Why?
Him: Because we get to do stuff that wouldn't ordinarily get done.
Me (sarcastically): That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
***
Me: I want to play World of Warcraft!
Him: Here, play the Paladin. You created her, and I haven't played her yet.
Me: I did?? Are you sure?
Him: Yes.
Me: Oh, that's right. I remember designing this character for you. She's got red hair and green eyes - your ideal woman.
Him: No, you're my ideal woman.
Me: Good job, sweetie.
***
Me: That's it. I'm not mad at you anymore.
Him: Really? Whoa. You are totally okay. That is awesome.
***
Me: What are you doing?
Him: I'm making dinner.
Me: I feel like I should get up and help with something.
Him: If you feel completely compelled to do that, then help, but otherwise, sit there and play.
Me: Huh? What? Sorry, I was just killing this arcane core dude.
***
I'm in the bathroom, he keeps talking at me through the door about pretty much nothing. I get out of the bathroom.
Him: So, was that good? Do you feel loved and talked to and appreciated?
Me: Is that why you were talking to me through the bathroom door? I thought you were lonely!
***
Me: I love you.
Him: I love you, too. I love you, too. I love you, too.
***
And just for grins (and the fact that I just know that when he's 80, we will be having this same conversation).
Him: Hey! You're home early.
Me: Yep, I didn't know until right before if it would happen, so no point in telling you.
Him: Yeah, but I was gonna put on pants!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Real World Wednesday
Health Care.
While I tend to take for granted (as I'm sure many of us do), that there will always be a doctor who will simply take my little $10 co-pay, stick a thermometer in my ear, write me a prescription and send me on my way, not everyone has this luxury.
In a recent article in the NY Times, I learned that the plans to extend a health care plan to a large quantity of children the United States has been put on ice while the Bush Administration tries to decide if the purpose of their Children's Health Insurance Program should include children in families that make more than $20,650 (the Federal poverty level for a family of four). New York would like to raise this limit to $82,600 for a family of four, and California, Pennsylvania and New Jersey want to or have made similar changes.
But the Bush administration worries that this program is being used as a substitute for private health insurance.
Let's talk about private health insurance.
In fact, "If a state wants to set its income limit above 250 percent of the poverty level — $51,625 for a family of four — Mr. Smith said, “the state must establish a minimum of a one-year period of uninsurance for individuals” before they can receive public coverage." So, a family would be required to go an ENTIRE year without health insurance before being granted access to public coverage.
Why isn't the government providing public health coverage to everyone, in the first place?
I have a co-worker who is a single parent with three kids. Her ex-husband is always in and out of jobs and pays probably next to nothing in child support. She makes, oh, let's say $20 an hour. With taxes and other various deductions, she probably has a take home of around $2500 a month. She also owns a home. Our county pays approximately $600 a month for health coverage. If your plan goes above this allocation, the amount is deducted from your paycheck. A family plan with a medium-prized insurer costs around $1200 a month, which means that her take home is now $1900 a month. To live in California. To own a home. To buy gas. To feed and clothe three children.
Now, I'm not clear on what the Bush Administration means when they refer to "private health coverage," but when fully employed people are struggling because of the cost of health insurance, I think that a supplementary program like the Children's Health Insurance Program makes sense. I've never understood why the government doesn't pay for our health coverage. They pay for it people are on welfare, but when people are gainfully employed, they pay for it themselves.
And as long as we're talking about it, if we're sticking to private health insurance, and if we have to pay to have "family" plans, I think we should be allowed to define who qualifies as family. Domestic partnerships? Fine. But I should also be allowed to add my parents, should they ever come to live with me. If it's my money, not the government's, I should have more choices in how it's spent.
I don't believe that the National Health Service in the UK is without its faults. Nor do I believe that the state-sponsored medical coverage in France provides seamless service. But the fact is, these governments make the step to provide something to their citizens.
I look at my paycheck and see 40% taken away every two weeks. Sure, this goes to my retirement fund, but a large chunk of it goes to taxes. I may be naive, but I simply fail to understand how our government can neglect to provide health insurance to its citizens.
While I tend to take for granted (as I'm sure many of us do), that there will always be a doctor who will simply take my little $10 co-pay, stick a thermometer in my ear, write me a prescription and send me on my way, not everyone has this luxury.
In a recent article in the NY Times, I learned that the plans to extend a health care plan to a large quantity of children the United States has been put on ice while the Bush Administration tries to decide if the purpose of their Children's Health Insurance Program should include children in families that make more than $20,650 (the Federal poverty level for a family of four). New York would like to raise this limit to $82,600 for a family of four, and California, Pennsylvania and New Jersey want to or have made similar changes.
But the Bush administration worries that this program is being used as a substitute for private health insurance.
Let's talk about private health insurance.
In fact, "If a state wants to set its income limit above 250 percent of the poverty level — $51,625 for a family of four — Mr. Smith said, “the state must establish a minimum of a one-year period of uninsurance for individuals” before they can receive public coverage." So, a family would be required to go an ENTIRE year without health insurance before being granted access to public coverage.
Why isn't the government providing public health coverage to everyone, in the first place?
I have a co-worker who is a single parent with three kids. Her ex-husband is always in and out of jobs and pays probably next to nothing in child support. She makes, oh, let's say $20 an hour. With taxes and other various deductions, she probably has a take home of around $2500 a month. She also owns a home. Our county pays approximately $600 a month for health coverage. If your plan goes above this allocation, the amount is deducted from your paycheck. A family plan with a medium-prized insurer costs around $1200 a month, which means that her take home is now $1900 a month. To live in California. To own a home. To buy gas. To feed and clothe three children.
Now, I'm not clear on what the Bush Administration means when they refer to "private health coverage," but when fully employed people are struggling because of the cost of health insurance, I think that a supplementary program like the Children's Health Insurance Program makes sense. I've never understood why the government doesn't pay for our health coverage. They pay for it people are on welfare, but when people are gainfully employed, they pay for it themselves.
And as long as we're talking about it, if we're sticking to private health insurance, and if we have to pay to have "family" plans, I think we should be allowed to define who qualifies as family. Domestic partnerships? Fine. But I should also be allowed to add my parents, should they ever come to live with me. If it's my money, not the government's, I should have more choices in how it's spent.
I don't believe that the National Health Service in the UK is without its faults. Nor do I believe that the state-sponsored medical coverage in France provides seamless service. But the fact is, these governments make the step to provide something to their citizens.
I look at my paycheck and see 40% taken away every two weeks. Sure, this goes to my retirement fund, but a large chunk of it goes to taxes. I may be naive, but I simply fail to understand how our government can neglect to provide health insurance to its citizens.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Dots, Pink and Being the Youngest in the Room
I have three things I want to talk about today. I know I could just pick one and have a nice cohesive blog post, but as Brandy's crazy e-mailer has reminded us all, it's my party blog, and I'll cry post what I want to.
Dots. The world is a dot (thank you, Mama for this lovely phrase). How surprised was I this morning to open up my e-mail and find a message from a college friend that started out mentioning that she saw my comment on This Fish. I haven't seen this friend (a former roommate and partner in many a boy-related crime, including talking in French about one semi-possibility when we didn't want the other people at the table to hear what we were saying, because, you know, no one else in the world speaks French) in five years, haven't spoken to her in four (since way back in my Boston days). And then I make a comment about my long-standing crush on Atticus Finch (and UC Berkeley Alum Gregory Peck), and what should result, but an e-mail from out of the blue. The world is so tiny.
I knew that colleagues and former classmates from library school have seen my posts on the professional listserves, but that makes sense, those are things that people in my field belong to, and folks, the pool is very small. But to be found on a blog written by a woman who used to live in New York but now lives in Texas by a former roommate who used to live in California but now lives in DC is just so...random. The Interweb is a powerful place, my friends, very powerful indeed.
Pink. So, apparently women are genetically predisposed to like pink or at least colors in the pink family. I, of course, see no problem with this, given my lifelong affinity for the color. I've been tomboyish. I've climbed trees. I've had summers where my knees spent nary a day without a scab. But I also did many of these things in a pink shirt, pink hairband and matching pink socks (often dayglo pink...I was super-stylin'). I have some friends who eschew pink in favor of purple. Well, that's okay, apparently that's a natural feminine tendency and also part of the pink family. I have friends who profess a love for neutrals or simply for black. But even they (yes, Irene, I'm talking to you) have been known to purchase a pink shirt from time to time, and they don't know why. Now they do. It's that double-x chromosome that'll get you every time. It will make you cry. It will make you rant and rave when you can honestly step outside yourself and wonder what the he double hockey-sticks you're doing. And it can also make you like pink. So there.
Being the Youngest in the Room. It has come to my attention that there comes a time when you have to stop behaving like the youngest in the room, even when you still are the youngest in the room (yes, I used that phrase three times in one sentence). For the last three and a half years at work, I have been the "baby," the "oh, my gosh, you're so young" co-worker that the other women treat almost like one of their own children. I've honestly had the director of a library system tuck the tag into the back of my dress and then say, "This is what happens when you work with a bunch of older women." And there are some days when I don't mind having a bunch of surrogate mothers. And there are other days when I realize that I tend to take advantage of it, tend to act as if I were in my own family environment and that if I do something wrong, someone will pick me up and protect me. There's nothing wrong with feeling protected at work, but I also have to realize that at almost 27 (GASP), the youngest one in the room is not exactly a baby anymore. I liked talking about pink more...
Dots. The world is a dot (thank you, Mama for this lovely phrase). How surprised was I this morning to open up my e-mail and find a message from a college friend that started out mentioning that she saw my comment on This Fish. I haven't seen this friend (a former roommate and partner in many a boy-related crime, including talking in French about one semi-possibility when we didn't want the other people at the table to hear what we were saying, because, you know, no one else in the world speaks French) in five years, haven't spoken to her in four (since way back in my Boston days). And then I make a comment about my long-standing crush on Atticus Finch (and UC Berkeley Alum Gregory Peck), and what should result, but an e-mail from out of the blue. The world is so tiny.
I knew that colleagues and former classmates from library school have seen my posts on the professional listserves, but that makes sense, those are things that people in my field belong to, and folks, the pool is very small. But to be found on a blog written by a woman who used to live in New York but now lives in Texas by a former roommate who used to live in California but now lives in DC is just so...random. The Interweb is a powerful place, my friends, very powerful indeed.
Pink. So, apparently women are genetically predisposed to like pink or at least colors in the pink family. I, of course, see no problem with this, given my lifelong affinity for the color. I've been tomboyish. I've climbed trees. I've had summers where my knees spent nary a day without a scab. But I also did many of these things in a pink shirt, pink hairband and matching pink socks (often dayglo pink...I was super-stylin'). I have some friends who eschew pink in favor of purple. Well, that's okay, apparently that's a natural feminine tendency and also part of the pink family. I have friends who profess a love for neutrals or simply for black. But even they (yes, Irene, I'm talking to you) have been known to purchase a pink shirt from time to time, and they don't know why. Now they do. It's that double-x chromosome that'll get you every time. It will make you cry. It will make you rant and rave when you can honestly step outside yourself and wonder what the he double hockey-sticks you're doing. And it can also make you like pink. So there.
Being the Youngest in the Room. It has come to my attention that there comes a time when you have to stop behaving like the youngest in the room, even when you still are the youngest in the room (yes, I used that phrase three times in one sentence). For the last three and a half years at work, I have been the "baby," the "oh, my gosh, you're so young" co-worker that the other women treat almost like one of their own children. I've honestly had the director of a library system tuck the tag into the back of my dress and then say, "This is what happens when you work with a bunch of older women." And there are some days when I don't mind having a bunch of surrogate mothers. And there are other days when I realize that I tend to take advantage of it, tend to act as if I were in my own family environment and that if I do something wrong, someone will pick me up and protect me. There's nothing wrong with feeling protected at work, but I also have to realize that at almost 27 (GASP), the youngest one in the room is not exactly a baby anymore. I liked talking about pink more...
Saturday, August 18, 2007
100 Things
A few days late, but nonetheless, here is my "official" five year blog-aversary post...a re-do of 100 Things. I may make this an annual event, but in any case, I'm redoing the list now. The first 100 (read the four part series) entertained and amused but didn't necessarily capture the essence of...moi.
So, here goes again.
1. I take an unnatural amount of enjoyment in the fact that I was born in Hawaii and try to work this into conversation with people I don't know so that I can see the look of surprise and mild confusion on their faces.
2. I wear one piece of jewelry everyday. It is a necklace with a variety of religious and other medals. I have been known to refer to it as my "mafia-wife jewelry."
3. There are times when I wish I didn't wear the necklace everyday.
4. Everyday, I also wear glasses. Now, when I wear contacts, my face feels naked.
5. Speaking of my face, since I started dating Wine Guy ten months ago, I've worn less makeup than ever before.
6. This is important, because I spent years telling people that I wanted a boyfriend who would appreciate me without layers of makeup, and now I have one. Fancy that.
7. I never actually wore makeup in high school unless I was doing a play, or when I went to prom or got all dolled up for graduation. In college, I only wore makeup for sorority functions, dates and job interviews.
8. I'm not a big fan of makeup, but I also have the odd belief that wearing makeup when in a big city actually protects the skin.
9. I do tend to come up with my own ideas of how and why the world works as it does. These ideas rarely make sense to anyone outside of my own head.
10. Yet it still frustrates me to no end when people in my life do not understand right away what I am trying to say.
11. I wish I were more patient.
12. Everytime I see a well-behaved, sweet smelling, adorable baby, my uterus leaps in anticipation, and I can't wait to hold my eventual children in my arms.
13. Each time a mother comes into the library with one (or several) screaming children, I am okay with waiting just a bit longer.
14. Though others may disagree on calling this a goal, it is one of my life's goals to become a married woman.
15. I believe that I have met and am currently dating the man I will eventually marry.
16. Only recently have I truly discovered that I am in absolutely no hurry to run headlong into the changes that marriage will bring.
17. I was born two months early and did quite well from then on, thank you very much. I believe this is a testament to my stubborn nature.
18. My birth was one of the only times I was early for anything.
19. I tend to be late, because I hate being too early and having to wait for people, especially if I don't have a book with me.
20. When I moved out last year, I took my crazy, needy, neurotic, wonderful orange kitty with me and left the two fabulous, talkative, loving dogs with my parents. I miss the dogs more than anyone can possibly imagine and wish I could see them each and every day.
21. I sleep better when there is someone else in bed with me. This can either be Marley (the cat) or WG (the boyfriend). When I wake with both of them scrunched up next to me, one on either side of me, it is absolute heaven.
21. I met my boyfriend online. There is no way I would have met him in the real world, because our social and professional circles would not have intertwined, and it catches my breath a little when I think that I could have missed meeting him had I not signed up for Match.com just one more time.
22. People in my family (even my parents, because, though they met in high school, it took years for them to date) tend to meet in unusual circumstances.
22. My father's parents met on a blind date, went out for a few months, parted ways, then got together again three years later. They've been married over fifty years.
23. My father's father's parents met when my great-grandfather was playing the trumpet in a jazz club in Bay City, Michigan. I can just imagine the sight he made, handsome and six foot four, to my teensy, tinsy little great-grandmother.
24. My mother's mother's parents wouldn't have met if my great-great grandfather hadn't died in New York while my great-grandfather and assorted relatives were en route from Italy to the US. Stalled by the news of their patriarch's death, they instead settled in France. I am sure there is more to that story. I suspect the mafia may be involved.
25. I always thought the story was one of the most important parts of a relationship. Now I realize that the relationship is more important than the story.
26. Snow Patrol has a song with line, "I want to hear you laugh like you really mean it, collapse into me tired with joy." I've done that. I can't wait to do it again.
27. My being stressed out tends to stress other people out, which only stresses me out more, because I don't want to mess up other people's days while I freak out.
28. It's only recently come to my attention that other people can take care of their own stress levels, and I can continue to take care of my own.
29. When I was in the fifth grade, I got glasses. The only thing I wanted more was braces. I so wanted to have both braces and glasses. I never got braces.
30. The fact that I never had braces is both a source of pride for my parents and a source of strange disappointment for me.
31. There was a period of about two years when I purposely didn't wear my glasses when I needed to, because I liked the way the world looked a bit softer around the edges when I didn't wear them.
32. I have no solid ethnic identity. I am a mix of Polish, Italian, French, Irish, Scottish and Kentucky Blackfoot Indian, and two of my grandparents (one on each side) came from the South. That means I am 50% Southernhick Belle.
33. I have blue eyes and blondish hair just like my daddy. But if you look closely, it's easy to see that I have the blue eyes from my mom's side of the family. This means that my looks are misleading. I take pleasure in confusing people with my looks.
34. I walk just like my father. My body is like a smaller, thinner, female version of his, down to the feet. I once found a picture of my grandmother when she's about 25, and her body looks just like mine, right down to the bony clavicle. It was the first time I had seen physical evidence that my DNA goes back further than just my parents. This both comforts and disturbs me.
35. I haven't spoken to anyone on my mom's side of the family in over four years.
36. There are days when this feels endlessly freeing and others when it feels infinitely sad.
37. I have a cousin I've never met. This is ironic when you consider that I spent a great deal of my childhood begging my mom's younger brother to get married and have a baby so that I wouldn't be the only grandchild. When he did all those things, it was after the great rift of 2003.
38. My cousin on the other side stopped talking to me later in 2003, and I've yet to figure out way. My grandmother won't tell me (though I suspect she knows), and I do miss the great conversations I had with that cousin.
39. It troubles me greatly when people just *stop* talking to me for no apparent reason.
40. Though my parents were both raised Catholic, they each had one non-Catholic parent. My parents, in turn, raised me Catholic but taught me that other faiths have value, too.
41. I believe this is why I am okay dating (and hopefully marrying) a man who would never be confused with a Catholic.
42. I did, indeed, survive 12 years of Catholic schooling. I will always be grateful that my parents didn't send me to the big, scary public school up the road, but I have nothing against public school in general. It's bad public schools that would have been the setting for many an adolescent torment that I am against.
43. I used to want a houseful of children. Six, seven, eight...keep counting. Now that I've moved beyond the age when I simply assumed children could be cared for like stuffed animals (the ones that bothered me got shoved under the bed), I realize that two is a much more reasonable number.
44. I have no siblings.
45. I have written a novel. Algonquin books requested 100 sample pages. They ultimately passed. This happened in 2004, and I have told relatively few people, because it seems like a failure.
46. I have not written anything even remotely resembling a novel since then, but I am just about ready to try again.
47. As a result of a wealth of things, I am far too sensitive for my own good.
48. I have a fascination with minatures - miniature dollhouse furniture, tiny pens, anything that is a mini version of something that comes in a larger size. I always crave one of those model-mini tents that they had at camping stores. Thinking about them now makes me realize I'd still be happy to have one.
49. For no reason other than that he played Lloyd Dobbler I have, and will always have, a crush on John Cusack.
50. His sidekick, Jeremy Piven, AKA Ari Gold on Entourage, has also long been a favorite of mine.
51. My other non-sensical crushes include Tim Robbins and Terrence Howard.
52. WG and I have finally reached the stage where we can discuss our "top five" (the celebrities with which we would not mind sleeping, despite our general feelings on extra-marital sex). I can tell you all of his, but I keep forgetting mine. I know that David Duchovney and Heath Ledger are on it...and maybe Matt Damon...
53. I love vampire movies. Dracula...okay, but I'm talking violent, bloody, obnoxious and lots of bad language. I'm talking Blade and Underworld.
54. When a boy broke up with me in college, I didn't cry. I didn't yell. I told him that his decision "lacked courage," hung up the phone and went to watch Blade. He is officially the only boy to break up with me.
55. I am in my first real, long-term relationship, and each week, each month presents new challenges and new things to appreciate.
56. I am a Catholic, but I have major issues with a few of the positions the church takes, though not the ones people might expect. I am also involved with someone who is not a Catholic, so it makes it easier for me to gradually absorb into another church.
57. Still fighting the ultimate decision to leave the church, I have not become familiar with our new church, and I can't even tell you the denomination.
58. I am convinced that I ran into a pointy-wall corner when I was around eleven and hurt my nose, resulting in the bump I can't stand. My mother denies this ever happened and simply tells me that I have her mother's nose.
59. I firmly believe that my dogs and cats and all other pets are better looking, better behaved and better tempered than other people's pets. I am sure I will feel the same about my children.
60. When I was 21, I had a 5 pound cyst removed from the webbing between my ovary an my fallopian tube.
61. I am mildly convinced that my best male friend is gay. This both worries me, because he is so staunchly Catholic that he would never come out, and excites me, because if he did, then I would have a gay friend. Yes, I have been influenced by watching too many episodes of Will and Grace.
62. I am beginning to realize that this list will make me look at least slightly ridiculous, but what's the Internet for if not to show myself for the naive, silly, quirky, quaint girl I really am?
63. I am both stronger and weaker than I think I am.
64. I don't like to swear, but every once in a while, something slips out. I either end up feeling slightly dirty or just a little bit proud of myself.
65. I admire my father more than I can possibly express.
66. I wish I went dancing more often.
67. I have two pierced holes in my right hear and three in my left.
68. I may want a tattoo someday.
69. I unashamedly listened to the Backstreet Boys all through college, but one of my dear friends and roomates listened to N'Sync and Britney Spears, so I never felt awkward about it.
70. The Goo Goo Dolls "Acoustic #3" makes me want to cry, same with Sarah McLaughlin's "I Love You," Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds," all for different reasons.
80. I love photography. I love black and white photography. I want a black and white photo lab so that I can indulge myself in my hobby instead of pining for it.
81. I don't give my mom enough credit.
82. I want to live abroad or at least in another state, and I can't bear the thought of staying in my hometown for the rest of my life.
83. I hoped that when I became a librarian, all of my doubts and questions about what I wanted to do with my life would cease. They have in some ways but not in others.
84. There are many days when I hate that being a librarian mostly means helping people use the printer.
85. In ten years, I hope to be married, own a home, have children and have published some of my writing.
86. Despite dating a winemaker for the last ten months, it's only been in the last two or so that I've come to really comprehend what goes into wine and winemaking and wine tasting. And that's because I read two books about the Napa and Sonoma Valleys.
87. I love to bake, but I find it's more of a solo hobby. I turn up the music and stir and bake away. It's awesome and calming and I feel like I'm doing something useful.
88. I want to learn how to bake fancier things. Let's add that to my 10 year list.
89. Though I sometimes feel fluent in French, I'm not really, and I crave the chance to be fluent in a language other than English (and "manspeak" doesn't count).
90. I want to cook gourmet meals, but there are days when I wish I could just go home and find a lasagne waiting for me in the oven.
91. I feel prettier when I wear jewelry, but not necessarily when I wear makeup.
92. I still remember sitting and watching my mom put on her makeup. It never took more than five minutes, even when she was getting dressed up. It feels like those years were too short, and I miss watching her scurry around getting ready for work.
93. I want to be artsy, but I don't know where to start.
94. I don't understand politics, not even in the slightest. I simply assume that all politicians are the same and that they're battling it out over mostly meaningless details. But I respect that Irene wants to go into politics, at least for a little while, and try to change the world...because she understands what that's all about.
95. I admire each and every one of my friends for different reasons and look to them as examples, in different ways, of how to live.
96. I really like my feet. They may very well be my favorite body part.
97. I may not be good at discerning the smells in wine, but I can discern the smells in people and animals. I love that Bailey (the German Shepherd) smells like sunshine, that Marley (orange cat) smells vaguely sweet, that my dad smells like Drakar Noir no matter what cologne he's actually wearing, that my mom uses Magic Noir, that WG smells like himself. My grandparents all have their own smells. My parents' house has a smell. It's the familiar, recognizable smells that I love.
98. The late afternoon is my favorite time of day, Thursday is my favorite day of the week, October is my favorite month, Fall is my favorite season. I'm also fond of sunny days in March, rainy days in June and fog.
99. I wish I could sing.
100. I love that I still find enjoyment in the little things in life, and I hope and pray that my children find that same pleasure in the world, whenever they should choose to be born.
So, here goes again.
1. I take an unnatural amount of enjoyment in the fact that I was born in Hawaii and try to work this into conversation with people I don't know so that I can see the look of surprise and mild confusion on their faces.
2. I wear one piece of jewelry everyday. It is a necklace with a variety of religious and other medals. I have been known to refer to it as my "mafia-wife jewelry."
3. There are times when I wish I didn't wear the necklace everyday.
4. Everyday, I also wear glasses. Now, when I wear contacts, my face feels naked.
5. Speaking of my face, since I started dating Wine Guy ten months ago, I've worn less makeup than ever before.
6. This is important, because I spent years telling people that I wanted a boyfriend who would appreciate me without layers of makeup, and now I have one. Fancy that.
7. I never actually wore makeup in high school unless I was doing a play, or when I went to prom or got all dolled up for graduation. In college, I only wore makeup for sorority functions, dates and job interviews.
8. I'm not a big fan of makeup, but I also have the odd belief that wearing makeup when in a big city actually protects the skin.
9. I do tend to come up with my own ideas of how and why the world works as it does. These ideas rarely make sense to anyone outside of my own head.
10. Yet it still frustrates me to no end when people in my life do not understand right away what I am trying to say.
11. I wish I were more patient.
12. Everytime I see a well-behaved, sweet smelling, adorable baby, my uterus leaps in anticipation, and I can't wait to hold my eventual children in my arms.
13. Each time a mother comes into the library with one (or several) screaming children, I am okay with waiting just a bit longer.
14. Though others may disagree on calling this a goal, it is one of my life's goals to become a married woman.
15. I believe that I have met and am currently dating the man I will eventually marry.
16. Only recently have I truly discovered that I am in absolutely no hurry to run headlong into the changes that marriage will bring.
17. I was born two months early and did quite well from then on, thank you very much. I believe this is a testament to my stubborn nature.
18. My birth was one of the only times I was early for anything.
19. I tend to be late, because I hate being too early and having to wait for people, especially if I don't have a book with me.
20. When I moved out last year, I took my crazy, needy, neurotic, wonderful orange kitty with me and left the two fabulous, talkative, loving dogs with my parents. I miss the dogs more than anyone can possibly imagine and wish I could see them each and every day.
21. I sleep better when there is someone else in bed with me. This can either be Marley (the cat) or WG (the boyfriend). When I wake with both of them scrunched up next to me, one on either side of me, it is absolute heaven.
21. I met my boyfriend online. There is no way I would have met him in the real world, because our social and professional circles would not have intertwined, and it catches my breath a little when I think that I could have missed meeting him had I not signed up for Match.com just one more time.
22. People in my family (even my parents, because, though they met in high school, it took years for them to date) tend to meet in unusual circumstances.
22. My father's parents met on a blind date, went out for a few months, parted ways, then got together again three years later. They've been married over fifty years.
23. My father's father's parents met when my great-grandfather was playing the trumpet in a jazz club in Bay City, Michigan. I can just imagine the sight he made, handsome and six foot four, to my teensy, tinsy little great-grandmother.
24. My mother's mother's parents wouldn't have met if my great-great grandfather hadn't died in New York while my great-grandfather and assorted relatives were en route from Italy to the US. Stalled by the news of their patriarch's death, they instead settled in France. I am sure there is more to that story. I suspect the mafia may be involved.
25. I always thought the story was one of the most important parts of a relationship. Now I realize that the relationship is more important than the story.
26. Snow Patrol has a song with line, "I want to hear you laugh like you really mean it, collapse into me tired with joy." I've done that. I can't wait to do it again.
27. My being stressed out tends to stress other people out, which only stresses me out more, because I don't want to mess up other people's days while I freak out.
28. It's only recently come to my attention that other people can take care of their own stress levels, and I can continue to take care of my own.
29. When I was in the fifth grade, I got glasses. The only thing I wanted more was braces. I so wanted to have both braces and glasses. I never got braces.
30. The fact that I never had braces is both a source of pride for my parents and a source of strange disappointment for me.
31. There was a period of about two years when I purposely didn't wear my glasses when I needed to, because I liked the way the world looked a bit softer around the edges when I didn't wear them.
32. I have no solid ethnic identity. I am a mix of Polish, Italian, French, Irish, Scottish and Kentucky Blackfoot Indian, and two of my grandparents (one on each side) came from the South. That means I am 50% Southern
33. I have blue eyes and blondish hair just like my daddy. But if you look closely, it's easy to see that I have the blue eyes from my mom's side of the family. This means that my looks are misleading. I take pleasure in confusing people with my looks.
34. I walk just like my father. My body is like a smaller, thinner, female version of his, down to the feet. I once found a picture of my grandmother when she's about 25, and her body looks just like mine, right down to the bony clavicle. It was the first time I had seen physical evidence that my DNA goes back further than just my parents. This both comforts and disturbs me.
35. I haven't spoken to anyone on my mom's side of the family in over four years.
36. There are days when this feels endlessly freeing and others when it feels infinitely sad.
37. I have a cousin I've never met. This is ironic when you consider that I spent a great deal of my childhood begging my mom's younger brother to get married and have a baby so that I wouldn't be the only grandchild. When he did all those things, it was after the great rift of 2003.
38. My cousin on the other side stopped talking to me later in 2003, and I've yet to figure out way. My grandmother won't tell me (though I suspect she knows), and I do miss the great conversations I had with that cousin.
39. It troubles me greatly when people just *stop* talking to me for no apparent reason.
40. Though my parents were both raised Catholic, they each had one non-Catholic parent. My parents, in turn, raised me Catholic but taught me that other faiths have value, too.
41. I believe this is why I am okay dating (and hopefully marrying) a man who would never be confused with a Catholic.
42. I did, indeed, survive 12 years of Catholic schooling. I will always be grateful that my parents didn't send me to the big, scary public school up the road, but I have nothing against public school in general. It's bad public schools that would have been the setting for many an adolescent torment that I am against.
43. I used to want a houseful of children. Six, seven, eight...keep counting. Now that I've moved beyond the age when I simply assumed children could be cared for like stuffed animals (the ones that bothered me got shoved under the bed), I realize that two is a much more reasonable number.
44. I have no siblings.
45. I have written a novel. Algonquin books requested 100 sample pages. They ultimately passed. This happened in 2004, and I have told relatively few people, because it seems like a failure.
46. I have not written anything even remotely resembling a novel since then, but I am just about ready to try again.
47. As a result of a wealth of things, I am far too sensitive for my own good.
48. I have a fascination with minatures - miniature dollhouse furniture, tiny pens, anything that is a mini version of something that comes in a larger size. I always crave one of those model-mini tents that they had at camping stores. Thinking about them now makes me realize I'd still be happy to have one.
49. For no reason other than that he played Lloyd Dobbler I have, and will always have, a crush on John Cusack.
50. His sidekick, Jeremy Piven, AKA Ari Gold on Entourage, has also long been a favorite of mine.
51. My other non-sensical crushes include Tim Robbins and Terrence Howard.
52. WG and I have finally reached the stage where we can discuss our "top five" (the celebrities with which we would not mind sleeping, despite our general feelings on extra-marital sex). I can tell you all of his, but I keep forgetting mine. I know that David Duchovney and Heath Ledger are on it...and maybe Matt Damon...
53. I love vampire movies. Dracula...okay, but I'm talking violent, bloody, obnoxious and lots of bad language. I'm talking Blade and Underworld.
54. When a boy broke up with me in college, I didn't cry. I didn't yell. I told him that his decision "lacked courage," hung up the phone and went to watch Blade. He is officially the only boy to break up with me.
55. I am in my first real, long-term relationship, and each week, each month presents new challenges and new things to appreciate.
56. I am a Catholic, but I have major issues with a few of the positions the church takes, though not the ones people might expect. I am also involved with someone who is not a Catholic, so it makes it easier for me to gradually absorb into another church.
57. Still fighting the ultimate decision to leave the church, I have not become familiar with our new church, and I can't even tell you the denomination.
58. I am convinced that I ran into a pointy-wall corner when I was around eleven and hurt my nose, resulting in the bump I can't stand. My mother denies this ever happened and simply tells me that I have her mother's nose.
59. I firmly believe that my dogs and cats and all other pets are better looking, better behaved and better tempered than other people's pets. I am sure I will feel the same about my children.
60. When I was 21, I had a 5 pound cyst removed from the webbing between my ovary an my fallopian tube.
61. I am mildly convinced that my best male friend is gay. This both worries me, because he is so staunchly Catholic that he would never come out, and excites me, because if he did, then I would have a gay friend. Yes, I have been influenced by watching too many episodes of Will and Grace.
62. I am beginning to realize that this list will make me look at least slightly ridiculous, but what's the Internet for if not to show myself for the naive, silly, quirky, quaint girl I really am?
63. I am both stronger and weaker than I think I am.
64. I don't like to swear, but every once in a while, something slips out. I either end up feeling slightly dirty or just a little bit proud of myself.
65. I admire my father more than I can possibly express.
66. I wish I went dancing more often.
67. I have two pierced holes in my right hear and three in my left.
68. I may want a tattoo someday.
69. I unashamedly listened to the Backstreet Boys all through college, but one of my dear friends and roomates listened to N'Sync and Britney Spears, so I never felt awkward about it.
70. The Goo Goo Dolls "Acoustic #3" makes me want to cry, same with Sarah McLaughlin's "I Love You," Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds," all for different reasons.
80. I love photography. I love black and white photography. I want a black and white photo lab so that I can indulge myself in my hobby instead of pining for it.
81. I don't give my mom enough credit.
82. I want to live abroad or at least in another state, and I can't bear the thought of staying in my hometown for the rest of my life.
83. I hoped that when I became a librarian, all of my doubts and questions about what I wanted to do with my life would cease. They have in some ways but not in others.
84. There are many days when I hate that being a librarian mostly means helping people use the printer.
85. In ten years, I hope to be married, own a home, have children and have published some of my writing.
86. Despite dating a winemaker for the last ten months, it's only been in the last two or so that I've come to really comprehend what goes into wine and winemaking and wine tasting. And that's because I read two books about the Napa and Sonoma Valleys.
87. I love to bake, but I find it's more of a solo hobby. I turn up the music and stir and bake away. It's awesome and calming and I feel like I'm doing something useful.
88. I want to learn how to bake fancier things. Let's add that to my 10 year list.
89. Though I sometimes feel fluent in French, I'm not really, and I crave the chance to be fluent in a language other than English (and "manspeak" doesn't count).
90. I want to cook gourmet meals, but there are days when I wish I could just go home and find a lasagne waiting for me in the oven.
91. I feel prettier when I wear jewelry, but not necessarily when I wear makeup.
92. I still remember sitting and watching my mom put on her makeup. It never took more than five minutes, even when she was getting dressed up. It feels like those years were too short, and I miss watching her scurry around getting ready for work.
93. I want to be artsy, but I don't know where to start.
94. I don't understand politics, not even in the slightest. I simply assume that all politicians are the same and that they're battling it out over mostly meaningless details. But I respect that Irene wants to go into politics, at least for a little while, and try to change the world...because she understands what that's all about.
95. I admire each and every one of my friends for different reasons and look to them as examples, in different ways, of how to live.
96. I really like my feet. They may very well be my favorite body part.
97. I may not be good at discerning the smells in wine, but I can discern the smells in people and animals. I love that Bailey (the German Shepherd) smells like sunshine, that Marley (orange cat) smells vaguely sweet, that my dad smells like Drakar Noir no matter what cologne he's actually wearing, that my mom uses Magic Noir, that WG smells like himself. My grandparents all have their own smells. My parents' house has a smell. It's the familiar, recognizable smells that I love.
98. The late afternoon is my favorite time of day, Thursday is my favorite day of the week, October is my favorite month, Fall is my favorite season. I'm also fond of sunny days in March, rainy days in June and fog.
99. I wish I could sing.
100. I love that I still find enjoyment in the little things in life, and I hope and pray that my children find that same pleasure in the world, whenever they should choose to be born.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Friday Song Lyrics
I'm working on a revised 100 Things, but this time, I'm going to put it up as one ginormous post...so for now, you'll have to make do with Friday Song Lyrics.
1) Because for some reason, listening to this song last night, over and over again, I was struck by the many ways it's true in my own life.
Kathy's Song by Simon and Garfunkel
And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you
And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I
2) Watching Last Kiss and listening to the LIVE version of this (the band not the way it's performed), I realized that when things are right, it's in no way difficult to stay true.
Walk the Line by Johnny Cash
I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line
As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line
3) Because I'm trying and trying and trying to find The Chorallaries of MIT version of this song for WG's birthday (a special request...anybody out there in the great state of Massachusets have access to a recording?).
Say Goodbye by Dave Matthews Band
So here we are tonight, you and me together
The storm outside, the fire is bright
And in your eyes I see what's on my mind
You've got me wild, turned around inside
4) Because the Plain White T's are about far more than Hey There Delilah.
Making a Memory by the Plain White T's
You and me
We should be
Making a memory whenever we're together, yeah
Look at me
Can't you see
We were meant to be
Making a memory
5) In respect of the sheer simplicity and beauty of the song, because we can all use a little simplicity and beauty every once in a while.
I Want to Hold Your Hand by the Beatles
Oh yeah, i'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand.
When i'll say that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.
Oh please, say to me
You'll let me be your man
And please, say to me
You'll let me hold your hand.
Now let me hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.
1) Because for some reason, listening to this song last night, over and over again, I was struck by the many ways it's true in my own life.
Kathy's Song by Simon and Garfunkel
And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you
And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I
2) Watching Last Kiss and listening to the LIVE version of this (the band not the way it's performed), I realized that when things are right, it's in no way difficult to stay true.
Walk the Line by Johnny Cash
I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line
As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line
3) Because I'm trying and trying and trying to find The Chorallaries of MIT version of this song for WG's birthday (a special request...anybody out there in the great state of Massachusets have access to a recording?).
Say Goodbye by Dave Matthews Band
So here we are tonight, you and me together
The storm outside, the fire is bright
And in your eyes I see what's on my mind
You've got me wild, turned around inside
4) Because the Plain White T's are about far more than Hey There Delilah.
Making a Memory by the Plain White T's
You and me
We should be
Making a memory whenever we're together, yeah
Look at me
Can't you see
We were meant to be
Making a memory
5) In respect of the sheer simplicity and beauty of the song, because we can all use a little simplicity and beauty every once in a while.
I Want to Hold Your Hand by the Beatles
Oh yeah, i'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand.
When i'll say that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.
Oh please, say to me
You'll let me be your man
And please, say to me
You'll let me hold your hand.
Now let me hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Real World Wednesday
Wal-Mart.
That's my topic for today. Wal-Mart.
In many households, there is a split between spouses, girlfriends and boyfriends, brothers and sisters, mothers and sons on who does and who does not shop at Wal-Mart and for what reasons.
I, personally, do not shop at Wal-Mart. Here are my two reasons:
1) From what I understand, they pay next to nothing, offer few benefits and are altogether awful to their employees. Why should I support such a company?
2) The Wal-Marts in California are scary, dirty, messy, uhm, did I mention scary, places to which I do not wish to subject myself.
WG, Mr. Oklahoma, has no problem with Wal-Mart on general principle. But he agrees with me on my second point, and, thus, does not visit Wal-Mart in California.
My grandmother lives in a small-town in Arizona, where Wal-Mart is really the only option. It's a super-clean store complete with a nail salon, hair salon, grocery store and more. It's gigantic and could practically hold all of the town's residents.
Recently (click the link at the top of the post), Wal-Mart agreed to pay $3.9 million to California employees who experienced "underpayment of overtime and other wages" from February 1, 2002 through January 19, 2007.
In 2005, Wal-Mart voluntarily contacted the labor commission and admitted to payroll errors. Yet, the problems continued through the start of 2007.
So, let me get this straight, they had a payroll problem for three years, notified the proper authorities and then continued to have the same problem for up to another two years. That doesn't strike me as good business.
Where I live, I have choices about where to shop. I choose to take my business to Target, where the employees get health benefits and advancement opportunities. I choose to shop at grocery stories like Raley's and Trader Joe's, where the employees seem relatively happy and content to be working each day. At my local Raley's, some cashiers have been there since before I started kindergarten -- that kind of company loyalty signals a good company.
I'm not going to spread the rumors I've heard about Wal-Mart (though it is, in great part, those rumors that keep me from shopping there), but I will say that big-box stores need to create a healthy, positive work environment. The employees of such stores need to make a wage sufficient to support a good quality life in the cities in which they work. The stores need to be clean, well-lit and otherwise inviting.
Last week I wrote about the Utah coal miners, and even as of this morning, according to the Salt Lake Tribune, rescue efforts continue. We have no choice about where we get our coal - it has to be dug out of the side of a mountain. But we do have a choice about where we shop.
I am not encouraging a full-blown boycott of Wal-Mart, because I don't want those currently working there to lose what little income they do receive. What I do encourage is that you write your senators and congresspeople and encourage them to look at the labor practices of big-box stores, in general.
I also encourage you to make conscious choices about where you spend your hard-earned money.
That's my topic for today. Wal-Mart.
In many households, there is a split between spouses, girlfriends and boyfriends, brothers and sisters, mothers and sons on who does and who does not shop at Wal-Mart and for what reasons.
I, personally, do not shop at Wal-Mart. Here are my two reasons:
1) From what I understand, they pay next to nothing, offer few benefits and are altogether awful to their employees. Why should I support such a company?
2) The Wal-Marts in California are scary, dirty, messy, uhm, did I mention scary, places to which I do not wish to subject myself.
WG, Mr. Oklahoma, has no problem with Wal-Mart on general principle. But he agrees with me on my second point, and, thus, does not visit Wal-Mart in California.
My grandmother lives in a small-town in Arizona, where Wal-Mart is really the only option. It's a super-clean store complete with a nail salon, hair salon, grocery store and more. It's gigantic and could practically hold all of the town's residents.
Recently (click the link at the top of the post), Wal-Mart agreed to pay $3.9 million to California employees who experienced "underpayment of overtime and other wages" from February 1, 2002 through January 19, 2007.
In 2005, Wal-Mart voluntarily contacted the labor commission and admitted to payroll errors. Yet, the problems continued through the start of 2007.
So, let me get this straight, they had a payroll problem for three years, notified the proper authorities and then continued to have the same problem for up to another two years. That doesn't strike me as good business.
Where I live, I have choices about where to shop. I choose to take my business to Target, where the employees get health benefits and advancement opportunities. I choose to shop at grocery stories like Raley's and Trader Joe's, where the employees seem relatively happy and content to be working each day. At my local Raley's, some cashiers have been there since before I started kindergarten -- that kind of company loyalty signals a good company.
I'm not going to spread the rumors I've heard about Wal-Mart (though it is, in great part, those rumors that keep me from shopping there), but I will say that big-box stores need to create a healthy, positive work environment. The employees of such stores need to make a wage sufficient to support a good quality life in the cities in which they work. The stores need to be clean, well-lit and otherwise inviting.
Last week I wrote about the Utah coal miners, and even as of this morning, according to the Salt Lake Tribune, rescue efforts continue. We have no choice about where we get our coal - it has to be dug out of the side of a mountain. But we do have a choice about where we shop.
I am not encouraging a full-blown boycott of Wal-Mart, because I don't want those currently working there to lose what little income they do receive. What I do encourage is that you write your senators and congresspeople and encourage them to look at the labor practices of big-box stores, in general.
I also encourage you to make conscious choices about where you spend your hard-earned money.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Sitting
Tap.
Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Left leg over right leg.
Wiggle the left foot.
Uncross legs.
Right ankle over left ankle.
Uncross ankles.
Gently raise thighs, ever so slightly. Left. Right. Left. Right.
Hand to hair.
Pull hair down over my shoulder.
Examine for signs of split ends.
Examine color. There IS blonde in there. Somewhere.
Let go of hair.
Left hand to left ear.
Move earring post in and out of the hole.
Switch.
Move right earring post in and out of the hole.
Stop. Fidgeting.
Still.
Listen to the speaker. Focus on the words.
Pick up church bulletin and flip through the pages. Nothing that wasn't there the last four times.
Paper back down on the chair.
Sit up straight.
Right leg over left leg.
Wiggle right ankle.
I actually kept track during church on Sunday. I move an average of once every 15 seconds. The longest time between fidgets was 20 seconds, the shortest, 8. WG always aske me why I'm nervous. I've always known I can't sit still but never thought of it as nerves. He thinks that's why I'm "skinny." Now I'm hesitant to seem less spastic, because I really can't afford a new wardrobe.
Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Left leg over right leg.
Wiggle the left foot.
Uncross legs.
Right ankle over left ankle.
Uncross ankles.
Gently raise thighs, ever so slightly. Left. Right. Left. Right.
Hand to hair.
Pull hair down over my shoulder.
Examine for signs of split ends.
Examine color. There IS blonde in there. Somewhere.
Let go of hair.
Left hand to left ear.
Move earring post in and out of the hole.
Switch.
Move right earring post in and out of the hole.
Stop. Fidgeting.
Still.
Listen to the speaker. Focus on the words.
Pick up church bulletin and flip through the pages. Nothing that wasn't there the last four times.
Paper back down on the chair.
Sit up straight.
Right leg over left leg.
Wiggle right ankle.
I actually kept track during church on Sunday. I move an average of once every 15 seconds. The longest time between fidgets was 20 seconds, the shortest, 8. WG always aske me why I'm nervous. I've always known I can't sit still but never thought of it as nerves. He thinks that's why I'm "skinny." Now I'm hesitant to seem less spastic, because I really can't afford a new wardrobe.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
After an Excellent Weekend
A wealth of beautiful things...
I like when I make you laugh out loud, and you seem so surprised at your own laughter.
I like that I know that you hope to name your future daughter something that starts with an L, because you like the way a cursive L looks when it's written.
I like that you think I'm beautiful, even when I question your sanity.
I like that you make me believe I'm beautiful.
I like when you suddenly but slowly reach for my hand when we're walking, especially when it's been a while since you held my hand.
I like that you cook for me.
I like when we can have a conversation when I actually stand up for my opinions and you end up agreeing with me (as these are rare conversations, I cherish them...though they become less rare as time goes on).
I like that you say you want to take more time for yourself but you find yourself wanting to spend that time with me anyway.
I like that you don't really question why I spout out random statements, interludes, in between conversations.
I like that I know where you want to eat.
I like that I know just where you to kiss you on the back of your neck.
I like that my touch can give you goose bumps and yours can give me them as well.
I like that I miss you when you leave (even though I hate that as well).
I like that you have come to enjoy spending time with my parents.
I like that you are strong (if sometimes stubborn) about your opinions.
I like the way you smile at me when you seem me walk in a room.
I like the way it's a slightly different smile when you think I look better than usual.
I like that we can now share strange, close details about our lives with each other that we wouldn't have shared a few months ago.
I like that we survived six weeks of living together when we both knew we weren't ready for it.
I like that we both agree that was a bad idea but can forsee a time when living together (though not "living together" in the shacking up sense of the phrase) will be a possibility.
I like that you are planning to take me home with you for Thanksgiving.
I like that you already know what you want to get me for my birthday (especially because such advance planning is so out of the ordinary for you).
I like that you insisted I tell you what's going on with my mom's health.
I like that you said you would pray for her.
I like that you are craving winter in the same way I am craving fall.
I like that you have made me cry happy tears.
I like that you have stood by me as I've gone through various epiphanies in the past several months.
I like that, before me, you had never had a real, long-term relationship -- that puts us on common ground.
I like that you love me.
I like that I want you to read this but know that I won't let you, at least not for a while.
I like when I make you laugh out loud, and you seem so surprised at your own laughter.
I like that I know that you hope to name your future daughter something that starts with an L, because you like the way a cursive L looks when it's written.
I like that you think I'm beautiful, even when I question your sanity.
I like that you make me believe I'm beautiful.
I like when you suddenly but slowly reach for my hand when we're walking, especially when it's been a while since you held my hand.
I like that you cook for me.
I like when we can have a conversation when I actually stand up for my opinions and you end up agreeing with me (as these are rare conversations, I cherish them...though they become less rare as time goes on).
I like that you say you want to take more time for yourself but you find yourself wanting to spend that time with me anyway.
I like that you don't really question why I spout out random statements, interludes, in between conversations.
I like that I know where you want to eat.
I like that I know just where you to kiss you on the back of your neck.
I like that my touch can give you goose bumps and yours can give me them as well.
I like that I miss you when you leave (even though I hate that as well).
I like that you have come to enjoy spending time with my parents.
I like that you are strong (if sometimes stubborn) about your opinions.
I like the way you smile at me when you seem me walk in a room.
I like the way it's a slightly different smile when you think I look better than usual.
I like that we can now share strange, close details about our lives with each other that we wouldn't have shared a few months ago.
I like that we survived six weeks of living together when we both knew we weren't ready for it.
I like that we both agree that was a bad idea but can forsee a time when living together (though not "living together" in the shacking up sense of the phrase) will be a possibility.
I like that you are planning to take me home with you for Thanksgiving.
I like that you already know what you want to get me for my birthday (especially because such advance planning is so out of the ordinary for you).
I like that you insisted I tell you what's going on with my mom's health.
I like that you said you would pray for her.
I like that you are craving winter in the same way I am craving fall.
I like that you have made me cry happy tears.
I like that you have stood by me as I've gone through various epiphanies in the past several months.
I like that, before me, you had never had a real, long-term relationship -- that puts us on common ground.
I like that you love me.
I like that I want you to read this but know that I won't let you, at least not for a while.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Fix You!
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you Coldplay says it best. But the fact of the matter is, we can't "fix" the ones we love. I can't call up God or my friend's doctor or my mom's doctor or the ridiculous people where my dad works and make them STOP doing things that hurt these wonderful people.
I can't solve the problem with less caffeine or more sleep. Even shopping won't fix what doctors haven't yet diagnosed. Time spent together is wonderful, and it's what I can do. But no matter how much time I give, it won't be the right antibiotic or the best radiologist money can buy to get that scan just right.
I want to step in and just make everybody better. I want to buy origami paper when the man I love buys a book about origami paper folding. I want to bring home a book about menopause when my mom gets hot flashes. I want to send links to credit report sites when my best friend is looking for a new apartment. I want to help, help, help, help.
And oftentimes, my need to help isn't entirely selfless. I can't say that I do these things entirely for myself, but I also can't say that I don't appreciate the positive reactions I receive. Being told I'm loving and caring does wonders for my soul.
But I can't fix everything. I can just be here. I can give what I can, but I can't save the world, try though I might.
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you Coldplay says it best. But the fact of the matter is, we can't "fix" the ones we love. I can't call up God or my friend's doctor or my mom's doctor or the ridiculous people where my dad works and make them STOP doing things that hurt these wonderful people.
I can't solve the problem with less caffeine or more sleep. Even shopping won't fix what doctors haven't yet diagnosed. Time spent together is wonderful, and it's what I can do. But no matter how much time I give, it won't be the right antibiotic or the best radiologist money can buy to get that scan just right.
I want to step in and just make everybody better. I want to buy origami paper when the man I love buys a book about origami paper folding. I want to bring home a book about menopause when my mom gets hot flashes. I want to send links to credit report sites when my best friend is looking for a new apartment. I want to help, help, help, help.
And oftentimes, my need to help isn't entirely selfless. I can't say that I do these things entirely for myself, but I also can't say that I don't appreciate the positive reactions I receive. Being told I'm loving and caring does wonders for my soul.
But I can't fix everything. I can just be here. I can give what I can, but I can't save the world, try though I might.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
These Things Happened
Here's a brief run-down of some of the highlights of the DC vacation.
1) It did, in fact, take WG and me two hours to find a hotel that should have taken less than five minutes to find. We started out in the wrong direction and just couldn't quite get back on track. We ran into a group of DC police, they gave us some directions, shouted "Good Luck," and we were off...that was 1/2 an hour into our trek, so you can see how good their instructions were. The good news is that, as we walked, a tall man with a red tie crossed our path. We looked quickle back and forth from him to each other and then, WG said, "Who WAS that?". I replied, "John Kerry." At which point, WG said, "Well, at least we'll have a story to tell." We then proceeded to walk through the more ghetto parts of DC, ran across "the most romantic restaurant in Washington DC" (what separated it from the six identical restaurants next to it, we'll never know) and finally, FINALLY realized that we could use the Google Text thing to get directions from our current location.
2) When finally trying to nap after our cranky tour of the International Spy Museum (you try being pleasant after a 5 hour flight, a two hour trek to the city and a two hour treck AROUND the city, not to mention no food or drink for about 8 hours), we were rudely awoken by someone on the hotel staff BANGING on the door insisting that she come in and "tur da yo shee," which, in our hazy state, we eventually realized meant, "turn down your sheets." By that point, WG had already gone to the door, shirtless, said, "What? What? No." To which the ever helpful staff person replied, "Chocolate?" And WG said, "Okay," took the squares of chocolate and came back to bed. I woke up and muttered something about remembering their being some mention of turn down service on the website and promptly collapsed back into my comfortable sleep.
3) I love museum cafe food. I have this great craving for it everytime I go to a museum. So, we went to the National Air and Space Museum, saw a McDonald's, and I worried that WG would just want to go ahead and eat there because, well, because we could find it. After the museum, he asked, "So, you still want to eat in your museum cafe?" To which I replied, "Yes, absolutely," and had trouble wiping the smile off of my face (he has my slightly trained to have low expectations, but I am starting to realize that he's a lot better boyfriend than I sometimes give him credit for), and he proceeded to find a cafe in which he had eaten on a high school trip to the city, years ago. Can I just say that I love my boyfriend?
4) We gave up on Georgetown, because that required a bus and more time than we had, and headed to a suitable substitute: DuPont Circle. WG first looked at a food guide, then said he should have researched restaurants before we left California, and then commented on how many restaurants seemed to be in the DuPont area...so, hoping for to avoid a two hour hunt for a restaurant, I suggested that we just hop on metro and see what looked good. Upon arriving, we took a quick tour of the area, spotted a nifty little "Asian Diner," kept walking, checked in with each other, and I said, "Let's go to that Asian Diner," which turned out to be a good choice. They served a mix of Asian cuisine (not Asian fusion so much as pan-Asian). He had coconut shrimp (Thai), I had a bowl of BBQ pork (Vietnamese), and we had a plate of sushi between us on the table (Japanese). Glorious.
5) WG actually made contact with one of his high school friends, and she picked us up at a metro stop and took us to the apartment she shares with her husband. We drank wine, pet her gorgeous dog, laughed at her strange little cat and just had a good time. Watching this girl and her husband talk about their next apartment and commenting on how he wants a garage, I realized that one of the reasons why I'm most looking forward to getting married is that there will be a "when" instead of an "if." "When we get our new apartment," instead of "If we ever live together." On the flight home, I told WG this, and he seemed impressed and said that it's not every woman who wants to get married so that she can share those mundane details with someone else.
6) I forgot to mention the wedding. The wedding was amazing. Beautiful gown. Beautiful bride. Happy groom. Crazy drunk Irish bartender. You know, the usual.
7) We *almost* missed our flight. We had to RUN down the hallway to our gate once we got through the maze that was security (and through the amazingly slow customers in front of me...one poor guy couldn't quite figure out how to take off his belt and slowed the line down about five minutes I didn't have). We got there, and the destination sign had been taken down. We said, "We're here for flight to San Francisco." "Oh, we've been waiting for you." We ran down the gateway, quickly walked to the very back of the plane to our...occupied seats.
"Uhm, excuse me"
"Yes?"
"There are people in our seats."
Stewardess to people in our seats, "Are these your seats?"
Two teen boys in our seats, "Uh, no, actually...uhm..our seats are...uhm..over there."
Stewardess on full duty, "Yeah, well, you're going to have to move."
They got up, the stewardess smiled at us, and we had our seats.
In which we sat for an hour while the plan waited for the okay to take off.
Not so late afterall.
But we got home. We still like each other. We were still happy to get together on Wednesday.
And I still believe that someday it'll be me up at the altar with WG.
1) It did, in fact, take WG and me two hours to find a hotel that should have taken less than five minutes to find. We started out in the wrong direction and just couldn't quite get back on track. We ran into a group of DC police, they gave us some directions, shouted "Good Luck," and we were off...that was 1/2 an hour into our trek, so you can see how good their instructions were. The good news is that, as we walked, a tall man with a red tie crossed our path. We looked quickle back and forth from him to each other and then, WG said, "Who WAS that?". I replied, "John Kerry." At which point, WG said, "Well, at least we'll have a story to tell." We then proceeded to walk through the more ghetto parts of DC, ran across "the most romantic restaurant in Washington DC" (what separated it from the six identical restaurants next to it, we'll never know) and finally, FINALLY realized that we could use the Google Text thing to get directions from our current location.
2) When finally trying to nap after our cranky tour of the International Spy Museum (you try being pleasant after a 5 hour flight, a two hour trek to the city and a two hour treck AROUND the city, not to mention no food or drink for about 8 hours), we were rudely awoken by someone on the hotel staff BANGING on the door insisting that she come in and "tur da yo shee," which, in our hazy state, we eventually realized meant, "turn down your sheets." By that point, WG had already gone to the door, shirtless, said, "What? What? No." To which the ever helpful staff person replied, "Chocolate?" And WG said, "Okay," took the squares of chocolate and came back to bed. I woke up and muttered something about remembering their being some mention of turn down service on the website and promptly collapsed back into my comfortable sleep.
3) I love museum cafe food. I have this great craving for it everytime I go to a museum. So, we went to the National Air and Space Museum, saw a McDonald's, and I worried that WG would just want to go ahead and eat there because, well, because we could find it. After the museum, he asked, "So, you still want to eat in your museum cafe?" To which I replied, "Yes, absolutely," and had trouble wiping the smile off of my face (he has my slightly trained to have low expectations, but I am starting to realize that he's a lot better boyfriend than I sometimes give him credit for), and he proceeded to find a cafe in which he had eaten on a high school trip to the city, years ago. Can I just say that I love my boyfriend?
4) We gave up on Georgetown, because that required a bus and more time than we had, and headed to a suitable substitute: DuPont Circle. WG first looked at a food guide, then said he should have researched restaurants before we left California, and then commented on how many restaurants seemed to be in the DuPont area...so, hoping for to avoid a two hour hunt for a restaurant, I suggested that we just hop on metro and see what looked good. Upon arriving, we took a quick tour of the area, spotted a nifty little "Asian Diner," kept walking, checked in with each other, and I said, "Let's go to that Asian Diner," which turned out to be a good choice. They served a mix of Asian cuisine (not Asian fusion so much as pan-Asian). He had coconut shrimp (Thai), I had a bowl of BBQ pork (Vietnamese), and we had a plate of sushi between us on the table (Japanese). Glorious.
5) WG actually made contact with one of his high school friends, and she picked us up at a metro stop and took us to the apartment she shares with her husband. We drank wine, pet her gorgeous dog, laughed at her strange little cat and just had a good time. Watching this girl and her husband talk about their next apartment and commenting on how he wants a garage, I realized that one of the reasons why I'm most looking forward to getting married is that there will be a "when" instead of an "if." "When we get our new apartment," instead of "If we ever live together." On the flight home, I told WG this, and he seemed impressed and said that it's not every woman who wants to get married so that she can share those mundane details with someone else.
6) I forgot to mention the wedding. The wedding was amazing. Beautiful gown. Beautiful bride. Happy groom. Crazy drunk Irish bartender. You know, the usual.
7) We *almost* missed our flight. We had to RUN down the hallway to our gate once we got through the maze that was security (and through the amazingly slow customers in front of me...one poor guy couldn't quite figure out how to take off his belt and slowed the line down about five minutes I didn't have). We got there, and the destination sign had been taken down. We said, "We're here for flight to San Francisco." "Oh, we've been waiting for you." We ran down the gateway, quickly walked to the very back of the plane to our...occupied seats.
"Uhm, excuse me"
"Yes?"
"There are people in our seats."
Stewardess to people in our seats, "Are these your seats?"
Two teen boys in our seats, "Uh, no, actually...uhm..our seats are...uhm..over there."
Stewardess on full duty, "Yeah, well, you're going to have to move."
They got up, the stewardess smiled at us, and we had our seats.
In which we sat for an hour while the plan waited for the okay to take off.
Not so late afterall.
But we got home. We still like each other. We were still happy to get together on Wednesday.
And I still believe that someday it'll be me up at the altar with WG.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Real World Wednesday
With all of the time spent on making the technological advances that bring us such world-changing (said in the most sarcastic tone possible) gadgets like the iPhone and the Wii and any number of other, let's face it, fun but unnecessary additions to our lives, why can't someone come up with better ways to do the jobs that are still injuring or killing people after hundreds of years?
In Utah today, there are six miners trapped in a coal mine. They're trapped as the result of an earthquake in the mine, and it seems that something, somewhere could have been done.
Are we just supposed to accept that there are some jobs that will always be dangerous? Will coal miners simply have to acknowledge that their lives are not that much safer than they were back when my great-great grandfather first came to this country from Poland and worked as a miner (and his experiences in the mines are perhaps why my great-grandfather became a trumpet player instead of a miner, but that's another story for another time).
Where are the researchers on that?
And even in the Wine Industry, those working in the vineyards are subject to breathing in mass quantities of the sulfur used to protect the vines against infestation. The EPA deems sulfur a "natural" substance, so vineyard owners can use it freely on their crops. Once inside the cellar floor, there are even more caustic chemicals. The air is stripped of carbon-dioxide and is low in oxygen to prevent the wine from turning undrinkable, but the workers deal with unpleasant working conditions and possible longterm effects.
Last winter, WG worked in a wine cellar. He came home tired, which is fine, but he also had a few chemical burns on his feet where the chemicals seeped through his workboots and socks.
I know that people today have a little more choice in where they go to work, but it seems that there should be more precautions taken to ensure that workers in mines, in factories, in any industry that involves chemicals, should not have to face detrimental long-term health effects. And with mines, it seems that seismologists, geologists and engineers should be able to work together to make sure that in the twenty-first century miners aren't getting trapped underground.
I would be perfectly willing to sacrfice the advances in technology that have given me an iPod and distant dreams of a Wii in favor of time, money and energy spent on creating better, safer working environments.
In Utah today, there are six miners trapped in a coal mine. They're trapped as the result of an earthquake in the mine, and it seems that something, somewhere could have been done.
Are we just supposed to accept that there are some jobs that will always be dangerous? Will coal miners simply have to acknowledge that their lives are not that much safer than they were back when my great-great grandfather first came to this country from Poland and worked as a miner (and his experiences in the mines are perhaps why my great-grandfather became a trumpet player instead of a miner, but that's another story for another time).
Where are the researchers on that?
And even in the Wine Industry, those working in the vineyards are subject to breathing in mass quantities of the sulfur used to protect the vines against infestation. The EPA deems sulfur a "natural" substance, so vineyard owners can use it freely on their crops. Once inside the cellar floor, there are even more caustic chemicals. The air is stripped of carbon-dioxide and is low in oxygen to prevent the wine from turning undrinkable, but the workers deal with unpleasant working conditions and possible longterm effects.
Last winter, WG worked in a wine cellar. He came home tired, which is fine, but he also had a few chemical burns on his feet where the chemicals seeped through his workboots and socks.
I know that people today have a little more choice in where they go to work, but it seems that there should be more precautions taken to ensure that workers in mines, in factories, in any industry that involves chemicals, should not have to face detrimental long-term health effects. And with mines, it seems that seismologists, geologists and engineers should be able to work together to make sure that in the twenty-first century miners aren't getting trapped underground.
I would be perfectly willing to sacrfice the advances in technology that have given me an iPod and distant dreams of a Wii in favor of time, money and energy spent on creating better, safer working environments.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
The Best of the Answers
Unbeknownst even to me, I helped myself out quite a bit by asking those ten questions. It means I have a happy little post I can write while I process one of the favorite vacations I've taken in my lifetime (and, yes, that list is quite long, thank you very much).
So, the best of the answers you fabulous folks came up with while I skipped along in 90 degree heat so humid I could feel a layer of condensantion forming on my skin from the moment I stepped out the door.
1. The best friend/significant other as one person conundrum
Brandy said: I don't think so. Which, isn't a popular opinion, but I just don't. I guess if you have other best friends, or someone that you can confide into that is LIKE a best friend other than your boyfriend, it's cool. But just to have your boyfriend as your only best friend? Bah to that.
2. Having best friends other than your man.
AKA said: yes, most definitely - who else would you complain to about him??
3. The body type question.
AKA said: I think I'm mentally not confident enough to think about myself physically...
4. The intended audience for your wedding.
Brandy said: I think it's ABOUT you and your spouse, but it should reflect a celebration that you want your friends and family to participate in. I like to think that if I'm happy, everyone will be happy.
5. The wedding tradition you won't go without.
Parchemina said: I do want to wear a white dress
6. The not-sexing but people thing you are question.
Parchemina said: I think it's good for people to know that not all couples are having sex.
7. Presidential candidates.
Mrs. said: I do not believe that it will make much difference.
8. Issues in the 2008 election.
Parchemina said: What on earth is going to happen in Iraq. I don't agree with the war but I think someone has to clean up the mess.
9. New electronic gadget
I'm not sure how this awesome music playing showerhead works, but I want one. Thanks to AKA for the idea!
10. Blog for cash or blog on your own terms?
You were all pretty much in agreement that unpaid and unfettered seems the best way, for the most part, but in terms of possible guidelines, Brandy said it best: If it was like 'okay, 750 words, double spaced, no mention of anything controversial, sexual or exciting, GO!" then there would be some serious problems.
Thank you all for your comments...these were the random questions rolling around in my head before the weekend and it's rather reassuring to know that you just didn't respond with a, "Sarah, you're nuts." :).
So, the best of the answers you fabulous folks came up with while I skipped along in 90 degree heat so humid I could feel a layer of condensantion forming on my skin from the moment I stepped out the door.
1. The best friend/significant other as one person conundrum
Brandy said: I don't think so. Which, isn't a popular opinion, but I just don't. I guess if you have other best friends, or someone that you can confide into that is LIKE a best friend other than your boyfriend, it's cool. But just to have your boyfriend as your only best friend? Bah to that.
2. Having best friends other than your man.
AKA said: yes, most definitely - who else would you complain to about him??
3. The body type question.
AKA said: I think I'm mentally not confident enough to think about myself physically...
4. The intended audience for your wedding.
Brandy said: I think it's ABOUT you and your spouse, but it should reflect a celebration that you want your friends and family to participate in. I like to think that if I'm happy, everyone will be happy.
5. The wedding tradition you won't go without.
Parchemina said: I do want to wear a white dress
6. The not-sexing but people thing you are question.
Parchemina said: I think it's good for people to know that not all couples are having sex.
7. Presidential candidates.
Mrs. said: I do not believe that it will make much difference.
8. Issues in the 2008 election.
Parchemina said: What on earth is going to happen in Iraq. I don't agree with the war but I think someone has to clean up the mess.
9. New electronic gadget
I'm not sure how this awesome music playing showerhead works, but I want one. Thanks to AKA for the idea!
10. Blog for cash or blog on your own terms?
You were all pretty much in agreement that unpaid and unfettered seems the best way, for the most part, but in terms of possible guidelines, Brandy said it best: If it was like 'okay, 750 words, double spaced, no mention of anything controversial, sexual or exciting, GO!" then there would be some serious problems.
Thank you all for your comments...these were the random questions rolling around in my head before the weekend and it's rather reassuring to know that you just didn't respond with a, "Sarah, you're nuts." :).
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Questions To Occupy The Mind
...while I run amuck around DC!
1) Should your significant other be your best friend?
2) If yes, then is it okay to still have other best friends to whom you turn?
3) How do you identify yourself, physically? It's a weird question, I know. But there are those who call themselves "slim" and "curvy" or "like a beanpole" or "like a Boticelli angel." Do you think of your body in a certain way? I'm slim, I suppose, but I've never really thought about it until WG came along and regularly comments on it...
4) Do you believe that your wedding is for you and your spouse, for you, your spouse and your family and friends or simply a big ole shindig for your parents?
5) What's a tradition, cultural or otherwise, that you fully intend to have at your wedding and on which you will not compromise?
6) Whether or not you're having...uhm...relations with your significant other, what do you think of people thinking that you are?
7) Who do you think should be the Democratic candidate for President? Republican? Wildcard Third Party?
8) What's your big issue in the 2008 election (#7 and #8 apply even if you live in Canada...)?
9) I don't actually need anything, but try to convince me there's some new electronic gadget I should want (other than the Wii).
10) Would you rather blog unpaid and unfettered for the entirety of your blogging career, or would you like to have a little income even if it came with some guidelines?
Answers! I need answers!
1) Should your significant other be your best friend?
2) If yes, then is it okay to still have other best friends to whom you turn?
3) How do you identify yourself, physically? It's a weird question, I know. But there are those who call themselves "slim" and "curvy" or "like a beanpole" or "like a Boticelli angel." Do you think of your body in a certain way? I'm slim, I suppose, but I've never really thought about it until WG came along and regularly comments on it...
4) Do you believe that your wedding is for you and your spouse, for you, your spouse and your family and friends or simply a big ole shindig for your parents?
5) What's a tradition, cultural or otherwise, that you fully intend to have at your wedding and on which you will not compromise?
6) Whether or not you're having...uhm...relations with your significant other, what do you think of people thinking that you are?
7) Who do you think should be the Democratic candidate for President? Republican? Wildcard Third Party?
8) What's your big issue in the 2008 election (#7 and #8 apply even if you live in Canada...)?
9) I don't actually need anything, but try to convince me there's some new electronic gadget I should want (other than the Wii).
10) Would you rather blog unpaid and unfettered for the entirety of your blogging career, or would you like to have a little income even if it came with some guidelines?
Answers! I need answers!
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Real World Wednesday
"I found a small, pebble-like lump in my breast, so I'm going to make an appointment and get it checked out."
*Every three minutes, a woman in the US is diagnosed with breast cancer.
"Okay, so they found abnormal cells in my uterus, and I need to have a LEEP procedure."
*Sixty percent of sexually active women in the United States have HPV, the virus that can lead to cervical cancer.
In the past two weeks, two women I love a tremendous amount have mentioned a women's health problem. One is more serious than the other as it involves surgery (and yes, I'm going along as a driver and moral support), and the other turned to be a normal fluctiation in the make-up of breast tissue.
Although this is a very personal topic for me, it's also something very REAL.
In America, most of us are fortunate enough to have some kind of medical coverage, whether it be through school, work, spouse, parents or government aid. Even those without coverage should have access to free clinics somewhere. Women: you have to get yourselves to the doctor on a regular basis.
Admittedly, I haven't been to see my ob/gyn since my follow-up appointment after I had a cyst (not a link to my actual type of cyst, as it was quite rare) removed from the webbing between my fallopian tube and my ovary nearly five years ago. I guess, in a way, I figure I've paid my dues and don't want to go through any more tests.
My friend's upcoming surgery has encouraged me to make the first steps towards making an appointment to get that dreaded exam. And my mother's discovery of a new lump has reminded me that I need to continue my monthly exam (my mom jokingly suggested I have WG do it, and you know, for some women that might be a more enticing option - get your man to examine your breasts for you!).
Here are a few more resources for thinking about women's health:
Women's Health Quiz
iVillage Ob/Gyn health center
Melpomene
National Women's Health Information Center
And if you're interested in getting the information out to less fortunate parts of the world, check out these sites:
Global Health Council
Global Alliance for Women's Health
Women's Global Health Imperative
Get thee to the ob/gyn!
*Every three minutes, a woman in the US is diagnosed with breast cancer.
"Okay, so they found abnormal cells in my uterus, and I need to have a LEEP procedure."
*Sixty percent of sexually active women in the United States have HPV, the virus that can lead to cervical cancer.
In the past two weeks, two women I love a tremendous amount have mentioned a women's health problem. One is more serious than the other as it involves surgery (and yes, I'm going along as a driver and moral support), and the other turned to be a normal fluctiation in the make-up of breast tissue.
Although this is a very personal topic for me, it's also something very REAL.
In America, most of us are fortunate enough to have some kind of medical coverage, whether it be through school, work, spouse, parents or government aid. Even those without coverage should have access to free clinics somewhere. Women: you have to get yourselves to the doctor on a regular basis.
Admittedly, I haven't been to see my ob/gyn since my follow-up appointment after I had a cyst (not a link to my actual type of cyst, as it was quite rare) removed from the webbing between my fallopian tube and my ovary nearly five years ago. I guess, in a way, I figure I've paid my dues and don't want to go through any more tests.
My friend's upcoming surgery has encouraged me to make the first steps towards making an appointment to get that dreaded exam. And my mother's discovery of a new lump has reminded me that I need to continue my monthly exam (my mom jokingly suggested I have WG do it, and you know, for some women that might be a more enticing option - get your man to examine your breasts for you!).
Here are a few more resources for thinking about women's health:
Women's Health Quiz
iVillage Ob/Gyn health center
Melpomene
National Women's Health Information Center
And if you're interested in getting the information out to less fortunate parts of the world, check out these sites:
Global Health Council
Global Alliance for Women's Health
Women's Global Health Imperative
Get thee to the ob/gyn!
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