Pink Cereal and Raspberries

13.1 Miles is a Long Way to Run

2010-08-22T21:33:00.000-07:00

The school year has begun, and each afternoon when I leave school, I actually look forward to returning the next day. Sure, I have only been a "real" teacher for three days, but other jobs have lost their charm by then. So far, the highlights include watching several students in my intervention class (the lower scorers/low performers) work together to help a group of four students try to untie their human knot. Whether my students realize it or not, they were developing key communication skills. They had to give their directions in a logical sequence, using words the other kids understood...you get the point. It was a moment of nerdy teacher bliss.

With the start of the school year, my half-marathon (did I ever mention that Irene and I are running a half-marathon in October?!) fast approaches, while the opportunities to train dwindle. Over the summer, I actually completed two run/walks that were over 14 miles. Now that I live in the land of the employed again, I have to make a real effort to fit that into my schedule.

For now, I can fit in 3-5 mile runs, which I think help with speed but not with stamina. Last Thursday, though, I had a break through run, one of those runs that makes me realize that my training has made a difference...what did I do? Why, I kept pace with Irene over a 5 mile run! Normally, we're together for the first mile or so, and then she moves out in front of me, and I never catch up to her. Thursday, though, I never let her get more than 10 feet ahead of me, and I would dig in and find the speed I needed to catch up to her. Mentally, this is a huge moment for me. I can keep up with my half-marathon partner, and that makes 13.1 seem a lot shorter.

Letting Go

2010-07-22T11:12:00.001-07:00

It's a gradual process, this letting go of old friends. There are days when it hurts, and there are days when I don't feel anything about it all. My high school friends have drifted away over the years. I was never the easiest friend to have. I tended towards moodiness, and I liked to get my way. In fact, high school was probably the worst time to be friends with me. I'm much better at friendship now, most of the time.

After graduation, I was the one sending out the emails, harassing everyone to get together at Christmas, or to celebrate a birthday. When I got married and started yet another graduate program, I stopped sending out those emails, finally admitting to myself that I no longer wanted to be the one responsible for making sure my friends saw each other.

In June, I realized it had been almost a year since I talked to my high school best friend, and I tried to make plans to visit her. Her schedule didn't allow the visit, and I took this as the "she's just not that into you" moment. I'll still write on Facebook walls and attend weddings. I'll send Christmas cards. What I won't do is devote time and energy to planning coffee dates or potluck evenings that never happen.

When I stopped to really think about this, I realized that my life is full of friends who know me now, as the more mature person who doesn't always have to get my way (though it's still nice when I do). I have surrounded myself with people who don't share memories of me as a truly difficult person. Not that my high school friends demanded it, but I felt that I still needed to make amends for being annoying, petulant and needy and that I needed to prove I had changed. With others, who met me in college or beyond, I share happier memories. Letting go of old friends hurts, but no longer being constantly reminded of my awkward years has its gifts.

Employed!

2010-07-12T16:12:00.000-07:00

After several strange interview experiences (including one where I was asked the race of my husband), I have a job! I will begin my new life as a middle school English teacher in August, and it's hard to express how right this feels. While I thought I quit my job and went back to school to get a teaching credential in order to teach small children, it turns out God had another plan for me all along.

After All That....

2010-06-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

Ten Reasons Why We Renewed the Lease at Our Current Apartment

10) Despite the fact that the landlords in Napa brag about their properties like they're the kindergarten class valedictorian, the ones in our price range leave something lacking...often parking, or land to step on to after opening mysterious patio door in the bedroom.

9) Far too many have a strict "no pet" policy, and despite the fact that he is a mere 6.2 pounds, Marley still qualifies as a pet.

8) Moving in the summer is painful...and sweaty.

7) Our current apartment managers gave us only a week to tell them for certain if we were staying for another year or if we were going to take the gamble and say we could leave by July. We couldn't take the pressure and caved.

6) Our apartment is under priced for the market, and we actually couldn't afford to live in it if we were walking in fresh off the street. It's hard for a shopper like me to pass on such a bargain.

5) It feels rather nice to not have a new "project" right after graduation.

4) My MIL will keep visiting if we keep telling her we're moving -- she booked a flight at the end of June to come "help us move." She'll just have to have fun on this visit and then fly out again to "help." I wonder how many times we can get her to visit without us actually moving.

3) We have a pool.

2) And a gym.

1) And the number one reason? We're holding out for something awesome. And awesome wasn't on craigslist recently.

Weddings, Graduations, and more.

2010-06-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

June is a crazy month for our little household. We have two fabulous weddings to attend (well, one down, one to go), my graduation from the credential program (today!), and, to top it off, we're working at moving from an apartment to a rental house.

The wedding was almost easier to plan than this move.

When we landed in our first apartment, it was the result of a quick, three complex visit that led us to our final choice, the best of those three. Now, we have far more choices and far more time. We were operating on less than a week of time to make a decision about an apartment before the wedding, and now, well, we have however much time we need. It's a blessing and a curse.

The blessing is that we can be picky and look at lots of properties until we find the perfect one. The curse follows the same guideline. We aren't forced into make a decision, which means we haven't made one yet. I'd love to be settled in our new place, or at least moved into, by July so that I can get to work decorating, organizing and maybe even gardening. I also am desperately trying to not over-book myself, and moving in the summer, when I have lots of free time (hmm. so far? teaching career = good choice), means less of a crazy Sarah. Moving anytime between September and May, means that I'll be embroiled in a job (hopefully!) and from September to December, the hubs will be hard at work during the wine harvest, practically living at his job and only crawling home in time to kiss me and fall asleep. Not. A. Good. Time. To. Move.

I'm working on patience, always one of my weak points, but I'm also feeling anxious. We started looking in late April but couldn't commit to anything, because we would have had to pay two months rent for a couple of months, which would have stretched us far too thin. Now, it's the perfect time to commit, and the properties aren't out there. So, we wait.

And I pretend I know how to be patient, in the hopes that someday this will prove true.

The Great Purge

2010-06-05T11:49:00.000-07:00

The end of the school year brought about the time (and the itch) for me to spring clean. The spring cleaning lasted about two weeks, involved more trash bags than I care to count and resulted in a great deal more breathing room in our little apartment. It wasn't so much trash (I mean, come on, I'm waaaaay too ocd for that), as it was clutter, things I've collected over the school year that I wasn't sure I'd need again and items I've held on to with more purpose, thinking I'd use them in an art project or...something.

I tried to find beauty in my collected items, especially wedding-related items, and made a collage out of the wedding cards we received:

The hubs kind of looked at it with an expression that said, "Really? You're going to hang another collage on the wall?" But, out loud, he complimented it. I am enjoying having these words and images out where I can see them!

Besides, it fits with my new philosophy towards having stuff: If I can't have it out, if I have to bury it in a pile of boxes, then I don't want it anymore.

The same goes for this blog. There are things I have said that I don't want out in the open anymore, mostly rude comments or the harsher of my "rants," and I've taken it upon myself to purge.

I went in with a fairly bad opinion of who I had been in the early days of the blog, but as I read, I realized that my path towards (greater) maturity is actually pretty visible. For now, I've gotten rid of less than 10 posts, and I'm up to January 2006 in my re-reading. I know that means that in the next few hundred posts I read, I'll be in the months leading up to meeting my husband. Having that knowledge in my head has altered my perception of the me I was in the early days. I can now see that I did change and that I had to change in order to be ready to be with him when he came along.

What a gift to be able to retrace my steps and see just about when I became truly ready to give and receive love.

Awww.

But seriously, folks, the power of the purge...I feel so much lighter. I highly recommend it, whether in your writing or your home.

10 Months

2010-06-01T11:20:00.001-07:00

Today, I have been married ten months. Today is also just a week away from my graduation ceremony. The past ten months, as I've navigated both a new marriage and a teaching credential program, I've had to let some things go.

Now, as the fog clears, and I can see my life more clearly, I crave those things again, namely writing and taking pictures. In order to maintain my sanity over the past months, I abandoned two of my favorite past times. In fact, there were several points when I even forgot what my hobbies were. I was so engrossed in teaching, in keeping up with school work and with managing a full-time husband that I lost track of the other things that make me happy.

Still, we do what we have to maintain our sanity, right?

Now, it's summer, and for the first time on a number of years, I have time to devote to my favorite tasks.

Inspired after watching Julie and Julia, I'm ready to get back in to a daily writing routine.

I hope some of you are still out there to follow along.

Mawwiage

2009-09-19T17:36:00.001-07:00

I didn't think a blog post could do justice to our wedding...so I haven't written one. Instead, I think you should just take a look at the photos. They tell the whole story better than I could. Oh, who are we kidding. Y'all know I'm going to narrate this puppy.

My handsome groom. He looked wonderful in his tux, and I cried when I saw him at the end of the aisle.

I looked just as I'd imagined I would on my wedding day -- like me, just turned up a notch. The makeup didn't turn me into someone else, and the dress let me breathe AND eat :).

One of my favorite pictures of the day. Our friend, James, my groom's best friend from college and a minister, looking on with joy on his face as my groom, my husband, my Thane, watches me walk down the aisle.

My daddy walking me down the aisle. I was bawling. He held it together until the father-daughter dance, when I leaned up and whispered in his ear that I'd chosen our song, "Three Little Birds," when I was a sophomore in high school.

We did it! We walked out, with style, to Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours." (this is making me think I should do an edition of Friday Song Lyrics with the best of our wedding songs...)

Another favorite -- me with my bridesmaids after Thane and I walked down the aisle as husband and wife. They put up with so much, did so much and mean so much.

Best groom's party picture EVER.

We danced, and the song, Ben Folds' "The Luckiest," was just so true. It felt wonderful to hold my husband and be held by him in return.

Our gorgeous day. This wedding was more than I had ever imagined (never really having been a girl to imagine the day and all its particulars), and it was perfect. I am so grateful to my parents and all the friends and family who made it all come together just so.

Our marriage is off to a wicked good start.

An Evening at the Movies

2009-07-10T15:14:00.000-07:00

My dad really wanted to see Public Enemies, and being, myself, a fan of both Johnny Depp and movies where I grow attached to the bad guys, I agreed to along. WG said he'd go if I, and I quote, "need company." Well, nah, I had my daddy, so the company part? Covered.

Well, Public Enemies was fabulous, as was the evening. I met Daddy at the theater right after work (yes, I did have packing to do; yes, I am moving on Saturday, but some things, like spending an evening at the movies with Daddy, take priority). He had brought sandwiches, which I hid in my giant work purse, and we settled in with a coke and the previews.

The movie was great. It had strong dialogue, really interesing cinematography (think the Bourne movies, minus the whip-lash), and Johnny Depp.

Johnny Depp...John Dillinger...JD...JD...methinks it was meant to be.

Of course, this was about more than the movie.

This was about using one of the last nights when the only one I'm coming home to is Marley (though I'm sure that cat would actually like a detailed schedule of my comings and goings) to spend time with my pops. Because, after all, I am a Daddy's girl, through and through.

And oh? Mr. "If you need company, I'll go?" Well, when I told him about the movie, he said, "Why do you always go see good movies without me?"

sigh. boys.

Oh well, whoever you go with, you should go see Public Enemies and enjoy your dose of Johnny D.

700 Square Feet

2009-07-08T16:28:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a while back that we were fast approaching THE MOVE. That fast approaching has now turned into warp speed, as THE MOVE happens in just under three days. We'll be "settled" before the wedding and before I start my credential program.

The apartment is 700 square feet and will house two people, one very loud orange cat and all our ~~crap~~ precious belongings
.
That's right. I have to live with a boy.

Okay, okay, I get to live with a boy.

A boy I love. A boy who loves me.

Okay, cheese-fest over.

We will merge our lives into a one-bedroom apartment in a city he knows more about than I do. We will merge our lives into a one-bedroom apartment, filling it with my too-many boxes and the items in the u-haul his dad keeps threatening to drive out from Oklahoma. In fact, there is a very interesting negotiation currently happening through my facebook page, in which my mom and his dad are trying to negotiate the terms of a fusbal table. I believe that superman underwear, a scuba set and a light sabre might be involved. Oy.

This is my last week living on my own. I'm trying to take advantage of it by doing the silly things I like to do on my own, but I'm also packing up all of my belongings, throwing out the things I never use, debating the meaning of "never use," and ensuring that the cat doesn't take a nose-dive off the ever-growing pile of boxes (yes, he's a cat, but a proper climber, he is not).

After this, the stuff is ours, the house is ours and the life is ours. Although, really, the life has been ours for quite some time, and that makes this all much easier.

So, here's to merging lives. Here's to friends with pick-up trucks who can be paid in beer and chinese food. Here's to parents willing to get up early to lift heavy things and babysit crazy cats. Here's to moving.

The One Where I Get Teary-Eyed With Joy

2009-07-07T17:27:00.000-07:00

We're in the final count-down. Those final under-30 days before the wedding.

The final dress fitting happened yesterday, and I saw myself with a veil, the earrings, the necklace and without the giant flower-pin that had been threatening to take over the dress. That my lovely little seamstress removed on demand...sweet. My mom didn't cry at this fitting like she did at the last one, and I think it's partly because we're all about done with the wedding planning and oh so very ready for the real-deal.

Case in point.

My mom talked to WG's mom, and my soon-to-be-MIL revealed this little gem:

"I talked to WG on Thursday, and I asked him how everything is going. He told me, "I just want to marry her. I just want to be married."

Upon hearing this this at lunch, after I'd just watched Michael Jackson's daughter get on a microphone and tell everyone how much she loves her daddy, I couldn't do anything else by just sit there and let my eyes get misty.

He just wants to marry me.

When Doing Nothing Means Everything

2009-06-29T16:29:00.000-07:00

The title is far more poetic than I can promise to make the post.

We had another jam-packed weekend planned, and then, something happened. My parents suddenly needed to attend a funeral (luckily, it was the funeral of a man who seemed quite ready to begin eternity, and the funeral filled an 1100 seat church to overflowing), and our plans to hit the beach with them and the dog evaporated into thin air.

And just like that, Saturday became a vast, empty day, but the most beautiful kind of empty, the unexpected kind of empty.

For the most part, we left our beautiful Saturday gloriously empty. We slept for 10 hours, much to the joy of the cat who switched between curling up beside my head and snuggling under my arm on a regular rotation.

I rose from bed and almost immediately began a long, seratonin producing workout on the Wii. WG switched between doing his own workout and checking job sites, oh, and making the cat make funny noises.

The, it was lunch time. We ate, we watched a movie, we relaxed as the sun shone through the windows and the cat slept soundly in its rays.

The word "wedding" did not cross our lips. Nor did any of the phrases associated with this stage of wedding planning: favor, program, RSVP. Nope. Without even trying, we created a space free of wedding talk.

We did nothing. And it meant everything.

In Which I Have a Complete Meltdown

2009-06-26T10:51:00.001-07:00

There are too many things going on right now. As Ms. Flopkins told me the other day, the things going on right now are all good, but they are still stressful.

I'm moving, leaving a job of 5+ years, getting married and starting a new career all in a couple of months time. It's like I looked at a list of the most stressful things a person can do in her life and decided to just check off four of them all at once. Why not? Saves the stress on another day.

Except, this means that my bucket is full. I'm full to the brim and each new drop just pushes me over the edge. It's not fair to the people around me.

Then, yesterday.

My supervisor comes up to me, just about five minutes before she is set to flee the building and starts this conversation:

Her: I need to talk to you about the situation with Mr. X.
Me: Whaa? I haven't even had any interaction with Mr. X in months
Her: Exactly, he thinks you're avoiding him.

The conversation just degraded from there. So, this morning, with my bucket overflowing, I decided I needed a pick-me-up. Being at work right now, with this particular type of supervisor, is not easy for me. I called my dad, and he met me at Starbucks. I bought us each a coffee and had some quick conversation, and the world is good again.

But, that's just part of the equation. Earlier in the week, I had a meltdown and directed it at my bridesmaids. I'm owning up to it "in public" here, because I think it's important for people to know that, to borrow a phrase from my soon-to-be husband, weddings "eat your soul." Haha. Planning this wedding has, in many ways, been marvelous. I've gotten to think about my lifetime with WG and revel in the fact that my family's about to get a whole heckava lot bigger and significantly more Oklahoman. I have also had fights with my parents, crying jags to WG (he fixed me, as he tends to do when I'm broken) and now, a meltdown about my bridesmaids, via e-mail of course.

Because that's the best way to handle emotional issues...in a forum completely devoid of context. Oy.

I feel like I've smoothed things over, at least as best as they can be for now. My already married bridesmaid understands and is trying ever so hard to keep me grounded. Another is someone I fight with like a sister, and I have faith that we'll keep on loving each other through this. My maid of honor, however, seems to have left the planet.

I know that, come wedding day, though, everyone will be there, and the day will be beautiful.

And I am taking the advice of all the Sadie, Sadie, Married Ladies I've talked to recently and am focusing on WG and our life together, forgetting all the hullabaloo that goes into a wedding.

It's a Good Idea...Wedding Edition

2009-06-22T19:02:00.000-07:00

It's a good idea to have several equally talented women as your bridesmaids in case your maid of honor regularly has to go out of town

It's a good idea to leave yourself plenty of time to decide on just what kind of favor you want. It could take three weeks for the containers to arrive.

It's a good idea to pair conversations between you and your guy about wedding details with a homemade meal, dessert and a yummy beverage.

It's a good idea, though it may seem crazy, to take a few full weekends off from planning, even one just shortly before the wedding.

It's a good idea to have a second reception for the family that all lives in the same state far away from the wedding location. It's especially good if the groom's family plans this reception, as it keeps them rather busy in the time before the big day.

It's a good idea to find a place for the two of you to live together before the wedding.

It's a good idea to practice any silly things you may have planned several weeks before the wedding when you still have time to change your mind.

It's a good idea to take your mom along for several small shopping trips to get all the odd little clothes you'll need on the day of the wedding -- shoes, undergarments, shawls, etc. Don't try to do it all at once, unless, of course, you want to drive yourself crazy.

It's a good idea to be incredibly flexible and understand that, unless you want to become a bridezilla, there's no way in he** you're getting everything you want on your wedding day.

It's a good idea to have your bachelorette party several weeks before your wedding so that the bruises will have cleared up by the time you walk down the aisle.

The Cat Left the Bag

2009-06-19T13:54:00.000-07:00

I officially told my supervisors and coworkers that I am leaving my job at the library in about a month.

It feels good. I've got this huge weight off of my shoulders and now, instead of focusing on deflecting the multiple projects they wanted me to take on in the fall, I can concentrate on planning life post-library. And that mostly means moving, getting married, having a honeymoon and beginning my time as a student teacher.

That's right, folks.

I'm heading off to the gloriously fractured world of teaching elementary school.

And I feel so wonderful about my decision that I'm actually now getting through days at work without people "reminding" me to smile. I just smile on my own now.

Bridal Boot Camp...Sort of

2009-06-18T14:09:00.000-07:00

I've read about brides who send their bridesmaids to boot camp (I know my ladies better than that, and I know that there might very well be a riot if I tried to fit even one more thing into their very busy schedules).

I've read about brides who send themselves to boot camp (I know myself better than that, and there might very well be a riot if I tried to fit even one more thing into my very busy schedule).

So, I'm just going to keep on keepin' on and work out stronger and stronger.

My mom bought be a pair of adorable shorts. They are shorter than I usually wear but no where close to being daisy dukes.

I tried them on, but...my legs could use a little work. I've tried on my wedding dress, but...my arms could use a little work.

So, I'm doing a little work.

Whenever I've decided to do a workout, I'm making it a priority. What's tended to happen, and what makes me need a little work, is that I push my workout to the bottom of my list, getting everything else done first. Then, surprise, surprise, it's eleven at night, and I'm pooped.

I have to make myself and my fitness a priority (that's a pretentious statement...but a true one), and so, I have a few half-done projects around the apartment, including unassembled boxes waiting to be backed for THE MOVE in three weeks (more on that another time). But my workout? Oh, that got done this morning.

And I was ON. I even had my little Wii Active trainer telling me I really "brought it."

And, yeah, I brought it. My thighs were burning. My body was sticky.

Who needs expensive bootcamp?

Not me.

Hard Lessons

2009-06-17T13:22:00.000-07:00

I should know better than to judge. It's all over the Bible. It's all over my upbringing, but still, when family friends get married and don't have health insurance or jobs, I begin to mull over how I would like my own life to go and decide against their way of doing things.

And then sh life happens.

WG is still awaiting good news on the job front, and the wedding is in six weeks. This certainly isn't the ideal way to start out our marriage. But we can't delay life in order to wait out the job market. In fact, living together will save us both money, if you want to look at the most practical of angles.

I really hate it, though, when my specific judgments about people turn right around and become my situations. Does this mean I'm also going to get knocked up on the honeymoon? That's not in the plans, but it's certainly something I've judged in other couple's recent marriages.

Oh, boy, should I start saving for a crib? I hear those suckers are expensive.

Swagger

2009-05-28T19:35:00.000-07:00

We all need to be a bit more like Megan Fox.

I know, I know. The girl has some confidence issues (of the over, not under, variety), but honestly, what's so bad about that every once in a while? Why can't put on clothes that I know complement me and walk with just a bit of a swagger.

In fact, why can't I have a dose of Beyonce in my life?

Damn I know I'm killing you with them legs
Better yet them thighs
Matter a fact it's my smile or maybe my eyes
Boy you a site to see, kind of something like me

It's too big, it's too wide
It's too strong, it won't fit
It's too much, it's too tough
I talk like this 'cause I can back it up

I got a big ego, such a huge ego
But he love my big ego, it's too much
I walk like this 'cause I can back it up

I, I walk like this 'cause I can back it up
I, I talk like this 'cause I can back it up
I, I can back it up, I can back it up
I walk like this 'cause I can back it up

Beyonce's swagger is a bit too...theatrical:

Megan Fox, though,just has this look in her eye:

She's hot. She knows she's hot. She's not going to apologize for it.

I took a little bit of her attitude for myself, and you know what? I liked it.

I felt better about myself, and I even allowed myself to accept a compliment from a customer at work. I had worn a snug jean skirt, a red, close-fitting (but work appropriate) top and some cute little ballet flats.

I told the story to WG...it went like this:

I helped a customer at work today, and he told me to tell you something. It's kind of funny, actually.

Oh, yeah?

Yep. He needed a cd that he thought we didn't have, but I found it for him. I walked back to the desk in front of him. After he got everything he needed from the desk, he looked at the ring and looked at me and said, "No disrespect, but you tell him he's a lucky man." I told him, "I absolutely will."

What's so funny about that?

Normally, if a customer told me something like that, I would just stare at them and hope they'd go away...but I actually accepted his compliment.

WG laughed that particular laugh of his, and I was filled with joy.

The fact is, though, adding a little Megan Fox into my life actually made me feel more confident in myself and more lighthearted when dealing with customers.

So, I dare you, go, add some of the Fox to your day, and let me know how it goes!

Putting It Out There

2009-05-12T22:30:00.000-07:00

In her book, The Wishing Year, Noelle Oxenhandler struggles with developing the ability to say her wishes out loud. She has juggled guilt and the feeling that actually asking for what you want is somehow just plain wrong.

I know her pain.

I also believe that I can share in her triumph. I am going to put my wishes out there. Yes, despite the incredible blessings I've seen in my life this year, there are still areas that need attention. I feel guilty and selfish even writing that sentence, but it's true.

I shouldn't feel guilty for wishing for more, for wanting a full and beautiful life.

I do, though, have a multitude of blessings. I have a true love. I have a wonderful, loving family. I have friends who know me and take me the way I am. I have a crazy cat named Marley who brightens up many a day.

Still, I have three wishes for this year, three wishes that, within them, contain dozens of little subwishes that will (almost) automatically come true if these three do.

Here goes.

I wish that my mother's health will improve and that her latest medical hurdle is handled by adept hands.

I wish that WG will find a job that suits him, in an environment where he will be allowed to flourish

I wish for a peaceful, joyous, happy wedding

What's your wish?

Consumed

2009-05-11T22:55:00.000-07:00

In the past weeks, I have, for once, allowed life to entirely consume me. I have eagerly fallen into the grasp of a real existence. Somehow, I even managed to break myself of the terrible habit of saying, at every twist and turn, "Once I get through this things will be better." I realized, at the magical age of 28, that saying that constantly meant that I was constantly wishing my life away.

I would rather revel in my life.

And somehow, I have.

I have reveled in a weekend visit from WG's mom. She's a wonderfully wacky woman, and I couldn't have asked for a better mother-in-law. She loves her son, and she loves me not just for loving her son but also for being myself. That is an amazing gift.

I have settled into a cozy seat near a window overlooking the ocean and listened to the voices of my friends and family around me at my bridal shower. The very fact that I have had a bridal shower astonishes me. But I did. A beautiful tea party shower with quirky games and the melding of women from all of my different worlds -- childhood, college, work and even a childhood friend of WG's who has become a friend of mine.

In the weeks since I have discovered what joy my own life brings me, I have also celebrated my dad's birthday just the way he wanted - with the best BBQ ribs you can imagine and watching the movie of HIS choice.

WG and I went with that childhood friend and her boyfriend to tour Santa Cruz, and, well, fun was had by all. I could have stayed on the dock listening the barking of the sea lions for hours, but, alas, we had to head on to the eating of French pastry and the drinking of organic beer.

And then, we come to this weekend.

I saw myself in my own wedding dress for the first time, and it all seemed so blessedly real. I stood on a pedestal, looking in a mirror, and looked, impossibly, like myself. I stood in this gorgeous gown and felt entirely at ease.

Sunday brought Mother's Day, and a meal with my parents at my house. WG grilled trout and zucchini, and we settled in to just spend time together (the real point of Mother's and Father's Day, if you ask me). The other mothers in our lives were called and loved on...

and we convinced my mom that seeing Star Trek on Mother's Day was a perfect end to a sunny May day. She trudged along beside us but found herself laughing out loud at Scotty's antics and admitted, quite willingly, that she'd enjoyed the movie.

Today, we met with our DJ and announced our first song to me. That song is in writing now. That song will go down in scrapbooks and memories, and it's ours for our day for our marriage.

Isn't life amazing?

The Little Things, As Always

2009-04-10T18:15:00.000-07:00

The Little Things that Keep Me Smiling

My silly orange cat curling himself up between near my leg, letting me rest my arm on him as I type on my laptop. He purrs with contentment.

Joining a co-worker for a walk on a lazy Friday afternoon.

Cider, coffee cake and great conversation with Mama and Daddy after church last night.

Getting to see my favorite girls tomorrow. :Þ

A crazy, teenage dog who likes to run up to strangers with excitement and joy and, upon realizing he doesn't know them, begins to growl like a beast.

The relief on that dog's face when he returns to his people.

Friday nights at home with WG.

Feeling super-excited that WG's mom (AKA my my future mother-in-law) is coming to visit soon.

Dreaming of the yummy BBQ ribs my dad's making for Easter.

Praying for WG to find the right job -- praying that WG finds the right job to support our little family of two (well, three, counting the cat!).

Head Above Water

2009-04-08T17:35:00.000-07:00

I'm 28, and it finally occurred to me that keeping my head above water isn't necessarily a euphemism for being completely stressed, it's a coping method. I can either wear myself out trying to accomplish everything, or I can, quite honestly, tread water until the tide passes.

Head above water.

I like it.

It means that the laundry gets done, but the in-depth house cleaning can wait.

It means that the check and contract get sent to the photographer, but the dedicated hours updating the wedding binder will wait.

Cool.

When The Economy Bites Me in the A**

2009-04-02T13:17:00.000-07:00

WG doesn't have a job.

It's a long, stupid story that involves several levels of management, none of whom liked hearing, through the grapevine, that WG might be considering leaving before SEPTEMBER (in caps to accentuate the "stupid" angle of the story).

It's been two months since he left, and we're still waiting for that bright spot of a new job to appear. He's had one offer since January, but the pay was low and the commute long...we decided, together, that it was better for him to take a pass. Six weeks later, we're still waiting for the phone to ring.

Worst time ever to be out of work...dag.

And here I am, hoping to escape to brighter pastures at some point in the future, starting to worry that I might get "stuck."

But I know we're not the only near-married or newly married couple that's had this problem in the last couple of years, and I know that we'll get through it.

So we worry together, and we hope together, and we avoid the mall together.

Dang economy.

Thou Shalt Not Stress

2009-03-18T16:18:00.000-07:00

This should have been one of the original commandments. I don't know how it got left out. Seriously.

I have a tendency to convince myself that I can learn how not to stress, but to me and others who share my genes, this just means a happy little trip down De Nial. Sure, I can do everything. No, really, leave it to me. I can do it.

But you know what? I do whatever it is, and I do it well.

Three days later, I crash.

I fall into a little puddle of Sarah-mess, and I realize that I'm exhausted and totally spent and have completely failed to give myself any time off...

And then I get mad at WG, because, really, what else is there to do about the situation?

There are times when he's contributed to the stress (because, ladies, let's be honest, there's not a man in the world who is NEVER at fault...), and there are others when he's simply THERE and gets the brunt of my stress melt down.

By Sunday, after taking the CSET on Saturday (a grueling five-hour test that involves things I will never have to know in order to teach kindergarten), working on Sunday afternoon and stressing the whole weekend over the location of our wedding rehearsal dinner, I was done for. I was melty and tired and fussy, and did I mention exhausted?

WG and I started talking about some little thing that was annoying me, and it turned into a slightly bigger thing...and I ended up complaining that I feel like I'm always the one who has STUFF to do, STUFF that means we don't get to spend as much time together as I'd like, STUFF that means I need a nap when I get home, thus cutting into what little time we have.

He looked at me and told me that he finds it sexy that I'm so busy, that I keep myself active and involved in the world.

And I admitted that I was tired and needed to just sit and not accomplish anything for a while.

Then he went and made me dinner and we watched 30 Rock.

Thou Shalt Not Stress...the 11th Commandment.

Full Circle

2009-03-10T14:13:00.000-07:00

The day after we got engaged, WG and I met up with my aunt, uncle and two little cousins in Colorado. I had seen my uncle or aunt since they'd gotten married, and, in fact, due to a major family argument had missed the wedding entirely. I'd never met my little cousins due to the same argument (see numbers 35-37 in "100 Things").

In early January, we found out that my uncle was very sick, and all of the reasons for the argument came tumbling down. For the first time, my mom and I were able to separate the rift with her mom from the rift with her brother. We both contacted my uncle, and since I knew I was going to be in Denver, anyway, I asked if I could come visit.

So, on the day after he became one, I was able to introduce WG, as my fiancé. It was the first time I'd seen my uncle in six years, and he and my aunt got tears in their eyes when they saw me, and my aunt started to cry harder when she learned that WG and I were planning on getting married.

My uncle has always been one of the two most important men in my life. He was, in many ways, like a second father. He was always around, always babysitting me or sharing in the "who's going to pick up Sarah from school?" nonsense. I know he took it seriously when he met the man I'm going to marry.

The initial visit went well, and in many ways, it was like no time had passed, and it felt so good to get a hug from my uncle again.

I played with the older of my two cousins, read her a book, helped comb out the hair on her my little ponies. We bonded :). I also marveled at the fact that she does, as my uncle mentioned almost as soon as we walked in the door, act just like I did at that age.

When it came time to plan out our wedding party, I so wanted my cousin to be the flower girl, but I worried that this would seem to sudden, too forceful. We've only jsut reconnected with that part of the family, after all.

But my aunt and uncle both loved the idea. And, apparently, so does my cousin, as she has taken to naming all of her new toys and dolls "Sarah." So, that was nicely settled, and I had a new, warm place in my heart, as a result.

Then, we got to talking about who would walk my mom down the aisle.

My mom wondered aloud at asking her brother to take on this task.

She debated and she pondered.

She asked him.

And he said yes.

And now, the family that was broken before a wedding six years ago is being brought back together by one now.

A Different Kind of Story

2009-03-05T18:35:00.000-08:00

Last night, as I enjoyed a hot bath and a good book, Marley, my cat, sat beside me on the tub, as he tends to do (he has also been known to surprise me in the shower). He was quiet and drowsy. His tail gently floated in the bubbles, and he didn't seem to mind.

Until he fell into the bathtub.

He stayed in the water for a full 30 seconds before he realized what he'd done and scrambled out of the bath.

Marley stood shaking his feet, trying to get the water off. He frantically licked his fur, as if that would make him dry faster.

I got out, got dressed and got out the hair dryer.

I stood him on his hind legs, rested his paws on my arm and turned on the dryer, running the hot air over his sopping wet body.

He looked up at me with his wide, orange eyes. I kissed the top of his head and kept going. I could see the fur drying. He started to fidget, so I let him go.

I opened the bathroom door, and he sat in the hallway, confused for a good three minutes. While he sat, looking shocked at the events that had transpired, I moved the space heater into the living room. I picked him up, surprising a meow out of him, and plopped that cat down right in front of the heater, where he sat, until he'd dried completely.

Then, he came and fell asleep on my lap.

The end :).

Wedding Wackiness

2009-03-03T15:55:00.000-08:00

I knew going into this that there was a lot that would need to be done...and yesterday, I had a little bit of a meltdown. In my defense, I had a HUGE headache and was just feeling overwhelmed by the fact that I'd basically spent an entire day driving around the Sonoma Valley so that we could taste at one caterer's place of business.

My list just keeps getting longer.

Luckily, WG was wonderful and just let me list the things that were bothering me. He took my hand in his and just let me sit there in silence as he drove us back to our neck of the woods.

It's not all wedding madness - it's studying for the CSET, taking a psychology class that is required before I can begin any credential program, and dealing with the fact that I am at work 8 hours a day accomplishing none of what is on my list. Boo.

In good news...let's see what can I check off the wedding list:
Location -YES!! This was the big one, as you know.
Hotel for guests - as of about 30 minutes ago, I've confirmed that guests can get a discount if they book at a certain hotel.
Dress -mmmm, picked it out, thanks to a whirlwind trip to a bridal shop with my lovely bridesmaids and my mom. Now, I just need to find somewhere to buy it at a reasonable price.
Hair and Makeup - A silly little detail, but an important one, nonetheless. WG's sister will be doing the hair for the wedding party (she's a professional hairdresser...hurray for having helpful folks in the family), and a family friend is giving me a *slight* discount on makeup.
Flower Girl - My sweet little cousin and her bright red hair will happily bounce down the aisle as my flower girl.

Sigh. Just writing that list makes me feel calmer.

We're getting there.

And next? This weekend, WG's dad and stepmom will meet my parents. Let me now go and worry about that.

Friday Song Lyrics

2009-02-20T12:15:00.000-08:00

It's been much too long...

1) On My Way by O.A.R.

Don't fear the morning
It's okay, it's okay
Hurt weighs heavy
It's okay, it's okay
When your body's cold and shaking
I'll steer you Darlin', steer you
When your body's old and aging
I'll heal you Darlin', heal you

Your soul lights the day
I'm on my way, I'm on my way
When you're so filled with pain
I'm on my way, I'm on my way
And Baby, Baby it's just me

Look out the window
Past the Pines
Through the rain
Oh skies will open, let sun shine
On your face
When your mind is old and fading
I'll heal you Darlin', heal you

Your soul lights the day
I'm on my way, I'm on my way
When you're so filled with pain
I'm on my way, I'm on my way
And Baby, Baby it's just me

In a matter of, in a matter of days, we'll find love
In a matter of, in a matter of days, we'll find love
And Baby, Baby that's just love
And Baby, Baby it's just me

Your soul lights the day
I'm on my way, I'm on my way
When you're so filled with pain
I'm on my way, I'm on my way
And its gonna get easier on you
And its gonna get easier on you
And its gonna get easier on you
Now it's got to get easier on your soul
Soul, soul, soul
Your soul lights the way, lights the way
I'm on my way
And Baby, Baby it's just me

2) Set Down Your Glass by Snow Patrol

Just close your eyes
And count to five
Let's craft the only thing we know into surprise
Set down your glass

I painted this
To look like you and me forever as we're now
And I'm shaking and I'm still
When you're eyes meet mine all the simple skills
Like to tell you all I want, is love

You say I'm cold
I'm just not the same
As I was a year ago
And each minute since then

My jumper tears
As we take off
You say you'll sew me good as new
And I know you will

And I'm shaking and I'm still
When your eyes meet mine all the simple skills
Like to tell you all I want, is love

And I'm shaking and I'm still
When your eyes meet mine all the simple skills
Like to tell you all I want, is love

3) Come on Get Higher by Matt Nathanson

I miss the sound of your voice
And I miss the rush of your skin
And I miss the still of the silence
As you breathe out and I breathe in
If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
I'd make you believe
I'd make you forget

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me in love
So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me in love

I miss the sound of your voice
The loudest thing in my head
And I ache to remember
All the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said
If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
I'd make you believe
I'd make you forget

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me in love
So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me in love

I miss the pull of your heart
I taste the sparks on your tongue
I see angels and devils and God, when you come on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Singin' sha la la la
Singin' sha la la la la

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me in love
So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me, drown me in love

So wrong, So wrong
So wrong, So right
So come on, get higher
So come on and get higher
'Cause everything works, love
Everything works in your arms

4) I'm Yours by Jason Mraz

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks, now I'm trying to get back

Before the cool done run out, I'll be giving it my bestest
And nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love

Listen to the music of the moment people, dance and sing
We're just one big family
And it's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved

So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm sure
There's no need to complicate, our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

D-d-do do you, but do you, d-d-do
But do you want to come on
Scooch on over closer dear
And I will nibble your ear

I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and I laughed

I guess what I be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do, our name is our virtue

But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

Come on and open up your mind and see like me
(I won't hesitate)
Open up your plans and damn you're free
(No more, no more)
Look into your heart and you'll find that the sky is yours
(It cannot wait, I'm sure)

So please don't, there's no need
(There's no need to complicate)
There's no need to complicate
(Our time is short)
'Cause our time is short
(This is our fate)
This is, this is, this is our fate
I'm yours

Oh, I'm yours
Oh, I'm yours
Oh, whoa, baby you believe I'm yours
You best believe, best believe I'm yours

It's Not Just About the Sparkle

2009-02-17T14:15:00.000-08:00

This weekend, WG and I set the date, and we're very excited, but mostly relieved that we can tell friends and family where and when we're getting hitched.

People have seemed astonished that we were able to set a date within three weeks of getting engaged, but we're ready. Plus, we know that we want to get married this summer, which means that we needed to get to work, folks. I'm actually really proud of us for finding a place, getting my parents to see it (the people who write the checks SHOULD have some say, right?) and then signing all the paperwork.

It's real, everybody.

I have a wedding party, a wedding date, a wedding location...

My officiant fell through, though, as the archaic rules of the Catholic Church will not let him officiate the wedding of a Catholic (that would be me) outside of a church. And, since we're getting married outdoors and totally not at a church, this means that we're in search of an officiant. One item checked off the list (location), and another that just got added...

It's not all about the sparkly diamonds, or the centerpieces or even about the dress, this wedding is about saying out loud and in front of our loved ones that we're going to stick it out through thick and thin.

And I truly feel like "for better or worse," or, at least "in sickness and in health" has already started.

On Monday evening, WG told me that he'd found a pimple-sized cyst on his body. On Tuesday, the doctor called it an infection and sent WG on his way with some antibiotics. By Wednesday, the cyst was the size of a fingerling potato (look it up, I dare you). And on Thursday, he was resting on my couch, pumped through with vicodin after having the cyst removed.

This relationship is about so much more than diamonds.

The Only Two People in the World

2009-01-31T11:25:00.000-08:00

WG and I went to Denver this past weekend.

We frolicked in the snow, visited the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, ate wonderful food at two fabulous Denver restaurants (Duo and Vesta). After much driving around, we finally happened upon the famous Tattered Cover.

I can't find quite the words to describe the perfection of this weekend.

We were completely in sync the entire weekend. While, he drove around in our tiny little rental car on Denver's snowy, messy streets, I navigated using WG's brand-spanking new tom-tom GPS. I made decisions only when necessary and let WG plan by the seat of his pants, using yelp via his iPhone to find the best places to eat, drink and relax. I haven't been this happy and relaxed in, well, a very long time.

So, it was the perfect weekend for WG to surprise me with a fancy hotel on our third night in Denver.

It was the perfect weekend for him to guide me up to a room with a long foyer and a living room strewn with rose petals.

It was the perfect weekend for him to have secretly obtained two orders of Denver's best tiramisu and have it already waiting for us in the hotel room.

It was the perfect weekend for us to look out the window at a serene night scene.

It was the perfect weekend to look at the gently falling snow and listen to the silence and feel like the only two people in the world.

It was the perfect weekend for him to take me in his arms, look me in the eyes and tell me how much he loves me.

It was the perfect weekend for him to very slowly get down on one knee and ask me to marry him.

It was the perfect weekend for me to say "Yes!"

It was the perfect weekend.

In Which I Attempt to Keep Myself Educated

2009-01-20T15:52:00.000-08:00

In the midst of everything else, I started a Classic Fiction Book Club! Join us!

And So We Laughed

2009-01-17T13:03:00.001-08:00

The day after my fourteenth birthday, my dad and I drove up to Sacramento to take a look at a dog advertised as a "purebred" beagle.

The former owner opened up the garage, and I squatted down close to the ground as a snuggly, warm, soft little dog with a Beagle's black face mask and velvety soft ears came running out, streaming warm pee all along the way.

She ran with her head down and came right to me, tucking her entire body underneath my legs, something she would do for the rest of her life (minus the pee, luckily). I tried to separate myself, though I was already fully in love with this dog. I knew that my dad wouldn't like the nervous peeing habit.

I pet the dog. She licked my face. I looked into her one brown eye and her one blue eye. She was tiny, but the owner told us she was about five months old. Have I mentioned that I was already in love with this puppy?

The owner gave us a few moments to discuss it. My dad said she was too expensive. I cried and offered to pay a tiny part of the $100 asking price, $10. What can I say, I was fourteen and making $2 a week in allowance...$10 was a lot for me - five weeks salary!

My dad, seeing my tear streamed face and the dog's helpless eyes, agreed.

We drove home with the new dog asleep on my lap. I stroked her head and rubbed my fingers along her velvety ears.

We introduced her to my mom, who discovered that the poor dog was completely flea-ridden. My dad washed her about ten times that night, until she was finally clean and dressed in a hooded doggy sweatshirt (the first and only time she would wear it).

Then we named her. We took turns looking at her and holding her all through the evening until we decided on a name.

We settled on Jessica Jody, and for short, JJ.

For ever after, she would be known as JJ, though she would always respond when I called to her in a sing song voice, "Jessica Jody, Jessica Jody."

She was never the most beautiful of dogs, though her eyes always astonished people. She had a line running across her head, dividing up the color on the front of her face and the rest of her body. As her weight climbed above forty pounds, and she adopted the solid gait of a pit bull, we realized we had no pure-pred Beagle on our hands.

She was always so happy to see me. Her tail -- her long, heavy, thick tail -- would pound with joy, she would lift up her head, and I would bend down to let her kiss my face. She made happy little shouts of joy whenever anyone went outside to see her. When she got to walk -- on her purple leash - always purple -- she would shriek in a high pitched tone and then yank us out the gate.

JJ loved to go down slides, played fetch for hours on end and had no teeth.

She came to us with some nervous habits, one of which was chewing. She chewed through street hockey balls, chewed on wooden decks, made wreck out of her doghouse. And so, those teeth were worn down doing something she loved.

The one time she was allowed to sleep by the side of my bed, the next morning we found her sound asleep in the wreckage of Abu the monkey.

She loved the water. The first time we took her to the beach, she couldn't handle the sand. She took a step, sunk down and wanted to go back to the parking lot, but she trusted us. She trusted me, most of all (even to her last week, she would take her daily pills only from my hand...anyone else had to shove the pills down her throat). She let us walk her down the steep, sandy hill, and once she discovered the ocean, it was all worth it. She ran and snapped at the waves, trying to catch them in her teeth. JJ would swim out as far as possible, until we realized that, unless she was in our favorite, quiet cove, we would have to keep a close watch on her, so she didn't get carried away by the rip-tide. She was full of joy everyday, but I think she was at her happiest on the beach.

As my mom said, she was the perfect dog, she came into our lives and was just what we needed in a dog.

On the day after my fourteenth birthday, I was still a scared, shy girl, and she was a scared, shy puppy. We were kindred spirits who needed to find each other.

Over the past few months, our fourteen year-old dog, the dog who has given us all she has to give for half of my life, faced a rapidly failing body. Still, everytime she saw me, she greeted me with a wagging tail and an upturned face, eager for her kisses. She tried her best for us, and last night, we finally did something for her.

We let her go.

I cried, knowing that I'll miss her velvety ears and her soft, warm kisses. I'll miss her stopping on each and every walk to sniff and grunt like a truffle pig. I'll miss her crazy blue eye. I'll miss the happy, loving spirit of a dog named JJ.

But I'm not sad. JJ had an incredible full, long and happy life. And she shared all of that happiness with us.

When the vet came in to ask if we were ready, my mom, my dad, WG and I were laughing, remembering funny things about JJ.

My mom went out to the lobby, and WG went to wait with her.

The vet finally opened the door with the medicine, poor JJ made such a variety of noises she sounded like a train engine. The vet said, "Is that her making those noises?" We laughed and comforted JJ, petting her ears, kissing the top of her head, telling her she would be with her Bailey soon.

She went quickly. She rested her head on her paws, with her tongue sticking out of her mouth.

Ths time, we giggled, and my dad struggled to get it back in. Never graceful, but always loving, our JJ. We closed her eyes, pet her, told her we loved her, hugged her and said goodbye.

The four of us left the vet wiping away tears but laughing all the way.

This is the Least Stress I Will EVER Experience

2009-01-14T11:25:00.000-08:00

I had a wee little melt-down on Sunday in front of WG (not the first time, ha!).

I let loose a detailed list of everything that's making me feel stressed right now (luckily, it had nothing to do with WG, so he was much more willing to sit and listen, since I wasn't railing against him).

As I was burbling and crying and just trying to get it all out to make myself feel better, he was saying things that made sense. I don't need sense!

Ah well, four days later, I can understand the sense, and I have to admit that he's right. This is the least amount of stress we will likely face in our entire adult lives. Right now, though not a married couple, we are, technically DINKS (double-income, no kids). Our main expenses are meals at nice restaurants. I mean, come on, what do I have to complain about?

It's a question I've been asking myself for years.

In light of my inability to handle stress and considering my 2009 resolution to be good to myself, I must force myself to deal with the stress, to approach it head-on.

Here's the problem...as I've been working to de-stress, I have essentially combed my life of a lot of potentially difficult situations. This means that when something stressful does come along, I'm shocked. Yeah, that's not going to work out in the long-run.

Yep, I've got stress.

Yep, there are a lot of boxes to check off before I can submit an application to a credential program.

But this is life, pure and simple, and it's time I woke up and realized that.

What I Need to (Re)Learn

2009-01-05T18:49:00.000-08:00

When I took the GRE way back in 2001, there were plenty of things I didn't know. I had forgotten most of my math and had to spend several weeks building my math skills once again.

Now, as I prepare to take the CBEST in three short weeks, I find myself in much the same position as eight years ago. (sidenote: how on earth was I a college junior, preparing for grad school, eight whole years ago??).

I began studying a few weeks ago, but it's only been in this past week that I've begun to realize just how MUCH I've forgotten. And, as it was eight years ago, it's the math that gets me each and every time.

Well, the math and that whole "reading too fast so that I miss key parts of the question" part...but that's been a problem all my life.

I go too fast for my own good. I skim questions like I push through books and then, on the other side, I'm not able to answer basic questions.

So, it's not so much that I need to relearn math (though I do) as that I need to go back to avoiding my lifelong problem of moving blindly and quickly.

Hmm...perhaps I can apply that to the rest of my life, as well.

Who knew I would learn so much by studying for a standardized test?

2009, The Year of Zen

2009-01-03T13:05:00.000-08:00

or, at least, the year of avoiding stress pimples, whenever possible.

In 2006, I wanted to start dating again and get an apartment. Whoo. Mission accomplished :).

In 2007, I specifically resolved to calm down, and with the help of Irene decided to "clam the hell down" (I love when typos make life soooo much more fun, because, honestly, what would you rather yell at your friend when she's going into a panic spiral "calm down!" or "clam down!". I think the answer is obvious).

When 2008 rolled around, I was a heck of a lot closer to actually accomplishing that whole calming down thing and was ready to branch out a bit. I vowed to be more creative. Did I do that this year? You betcha. I wrote a book (wahoo!). I made a lot of my Christmas presents (including hand painted plates and an apron for my mom made out of fabric I designed and got printed through spoonflower). Yep, I am satisfied with the 2008 resolution.

And onto 2009. I have already promised to let myself off the hook.

Building on my birthday resolution, I'm going to say that in addition to letting myself off the hook, I'm genuinely going to be good to myself this year.

Being good to myself doesn't just mean treating myself to a Jamba Juice smoothie or a delectable Starbucks green tea frappucino. No, it also means getting to the gym, getting to bed on time, giving myself facials and otherwise taking care of my body so that I can be healthy and happy.

There will most likely be big changes ahead in 2009. WG should be getting a new gig. I may be making that major leap into another degree and a new field (still have to get those tests taken and applications filed, and, of course, there's that whole needing to get accepted bit...). That said, I also have to point out that this is the first time I have actually been prepared to handle huge changes with grace and in stride.

While in Oklahoma last week, my skin looked the best it has in at least two years. What was different? While I was dilligent about applying my facial meds and about getting enough sleep, the biggest difference was the lack of feeling utterly and completely overwhelmed with stress.

Being good to myself means not leaping to conclusions, not rushing to have an argument and never, ever being afraid to stand up for myself.

Being good to myself also means being honest with myself.

And on that note, here's a little blurb I stole from an e-mail I wrote to Irene after she shared this helpful little article:

I'm beginning to really see that not that much will change between WG and me when we get married. We'll live together (which will be awesome), but there's no magic wand that will get waved over us to make us not have to work anymore.

(and this realization takes our relationship one step closer to actually being ready for an engagement and a marriage...).

So, here's to 2009, in all its honesty and goodness...what are you doing this year?

Things I Learned in Oklahoma

2008-12-31T14:16:00.000-08:00

1) No matter how much a woman thinks she has hinted at getting certain types of presents, the only way a man will actually know, without a doubt, that getting things will not get him in any kind of trouble, is for a woman to TELL a man what she wants.

2) It is possible to buy a 2600 square foot home with four bedrooms, three full baths and a second floor game room for $219,000, brand new in Oklahoma. In five years, chances are the house will still be worth $219,000 and will most definitely still be in Oklahoma.

3) The coastal states have the best produce. Oklahoma is not a coastal state.

4) It's kind of nice when a minister opens an NBA game with prayer.

5) It's rather odd when Christmas isn't at my house, and, thus, all about me, but it is quite survivable.

6) I don't suck at jenga.

7) There is traffic in Oklahoma, especially on the two days before and after Christmas when people are populating the malls to excessive proportions.

8) In Oklahoma, teenagers rebel against their families by becoming Texas fans, but almost everyone roots for the Dallas Cowboys.

9) Family comes in all shapes, sizes, colors and legal varieties.

10) I can spend seven days in a row with WG and still not get sick of him :Þ.

I Can Tell I'm Getting Saner, Because...

2008-12-18T19:14:00.000-08:00

This morning on the way to work, I cracked myself up when I thought of making brownies tonight for the potluck at work tomorrow. There is no way in the coldest, most frozen, ice-skating solid, version of hell, that I would be able to get that done tonight. And I realized that! Nine hours before "tonight." Good for me.

I am not yet packed for my trip to the corral, and the mere thought of all I have yet to do is not making my chest hurt in strange ways.

I realized that, though I thought I had finished my wrapping, I had not actually wrapped the new bowls I got for my cat's food and water. These will remain unwrapped, as I am sane enough to realize that the cat does not care that I got him new bowls, let alone whether or not he gets to unwrap them (though he has been having an insanely good time bounding into the living room and pouncing on any ribbon he might find).

WG informed me that we are not seated together on the plane. After visiting the airline's website and discovering that, indeed, there are no free seats left on the flights, so, forget seats together, I got over it and got to planning my flight-time activities

I actually made a solid step in the right direction and registered to take the CBEST, and part of my in-flight entertainment will be getting down to business with a pencil and my study book.

Real World Wednesday

2008-12-17T14:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, someone at work told me that he's having trouble getting into the spirit of the season because of all the drama and trouble and violence in the world right now.

I can understand that completely, and I think I have solution.

Let's ignore it for a while.

No, I don't mean that those of us are aren't directly involved in it should just pretend it doesn't exist. I mean that everyone, especially those who are involved, should walk away.

Perhaps by the time the holidays are over (sometime in February, by my count), then everyone will have forgotten why they were staging riots in the first place.

Denial is more than river in Egypt, it's an uncharted course to peace.

As I Attempt to Avoid Buckling Under the Stress of it All

2008-12-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

Oy.

Really, that's all I can say.

In five days, WG and I take off for another whirlwind tour of the Corral. I'm stoked to be spending our first Christmas together (the past couple of years, we've had our Christmas on New Year's, which has its charms), about waking up next to him on Christmas morning. I'm also starting to feel the sadness at NOT waking up snug in my bed at my parents' house and running downstairs for cinnamon rolls and present opening before dawn.

It's not that I have too much to do, it's that I have BIG, important things to do, like finish editing the novel and get it submitted to the contest with the December 31 deadline. And wrap Christmas presents. And clean my apartment before abanoning it for a week. And get off my bum and exercise (update: the week of concentrating on sitting better and doing my special exercises has already helped my back!).

There are things I can let go...one of them, at least for now, is reading The Second Sex. It sat on my bedside table, glaring at me for weeks, before I finally gave in and returned it from whence it came (uhm, the library).

There are other things that I simply can't abandon -- not see Irene before Christmas? Uhm, no thanks.

So, here's to taking deep breaths and going under a series of rocks as I attempt to cross everything off my list before Friday! Wowza.

Good luck to all of us as we try to finish our Christmas lists!

Real World Wednesday

2008-12-10T17:13:00.000-08:00

Take Care of Yourself.

If you're a twenty/thirty-something like me, keep in mind that this world is ours for the leading...if, that is, we can keep ourselves healthy enough to do any leading.

Ruby shared her sciatic nerve issues with us all...and now, the official diagnosis for my ongoing back pain is the same as Ms. Ruby's. I'm only 28, and I've got a bad back...seriously, this so not okay.

I know EXACTLY when the pain started. It was all because I was being a stellar girlfriend and getting a certain someone a 60 pound wine refrigerator for Christmas. Carried up the stairs, did I? Oh, no, don't be silly. I simply tried to wrap the thing. And my back objected.

The pain in the back, as well as recent conversations about life being "over" when a woman has children (my quotes around "over" clearly express, I hope, my disagreement with the concept that life ends with childbirth), has gotten me thinking about how we treat our bodies.

My ongoing train of thought is: If I can't take care of myself now, how will I manage to take proper care of my body when I'm a parent, when I have far less spare time. Let's face it, say what you will about having children, but one thing we can all agree one is that children don't exactly offer the opportunity for more alone time.

Let's start with simple, daily decisions (rather than rousing speeches about rushing out to join the gym).

Each morning, I decide to spend 15 minutes browsing facebook of stretching or otherwise preparing my body for a hard day of sitting on my butt at work. Of course, that's exaggerating. I shuffle. I bend. I squat. I leap out of my chair to discipline a wayward customer. But, for the most part, I sit, anxiously awaiting the questions of my "eager" customers.

I can choose, though, to walk on my breaks. I can choose, even, to friggin' make sure I take my breaks at all. This is the only body I have, and I need to treat it with respect. I need to feed it and exercise it and keep it as healthy as possible.

I have to say out loud, and in print, that I will make exercise and fitness a priority. I've run a 5k. I've played inter-mural soccer. I know what it takes to stay in shape, but I also know that I can no longer push exercise so far to the end of my to-do list that it falls off all together.

I challenge you to make one healthier decision this week. Will you go for a walk? A jog? Will you say no to starbucks or Tim Horton's (that's for all my Canadian readers :Þ).

Real World Wednesday

2008-12-03T13:32:00.000-08:00

Pray.

Pray today for the people in Mumbai - for the victims, for their families, for the perpetrators and their families.

It is immensely challenging to pray for those who do harm, but they clearly need the Grace of God in their lives if they feel compelled to commit such horrendous acts.

So, today, pray.

Not Scary

2008-11-26T22:40:00.000-08:00

It's Wednesday.

But it's also Thanksgiving week AND the day after my birthday.

So, no Real World Wednesday today.

Nope, this is as Sarah-centric as it's going to get.

I turned 28 yesterday, and it's not scary. I wasn't scared or worried or anxious leading up to the big 2-8. 25? Freaked the crap out of me. 18? Ooooh boy, not so good.

But 28? For some reason, I'm totally okay with it. Maybe it's that it's a beautiful even number. I have always found 28 oddly appealing (and yes, I am THAT girl who at the grocery store prefers that her packaged meat has an even price). My friends who have added that extra year to their age also seem to agree that 28 is a satisfying and solid number, not the least big scary.

Thus, no freak out post this year.

That's right, I didn't freak out, so no freak out post. I kind of like that.

I do know that this year, as an extension of the never ending quest to calm down, I am adding a new addendum and that is to not be quite so hard on myself. I expect perfection, and I rarely get it...then I take out my disappointment in my own shortcomings on other people. Then I get upset with myself about that.

So, at 28, I think I'm old enough to stop playing judge, disciplinarian and out and out pain the butt!

I'm letting myself off the hook.

I think I'm going to like 28.

Happy Birthday to me and Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

In Which Toni Morrison Confirms Everything I Always Thought About Literature

2008-11-21T23:50:00.001-08:00

My wonderful friend Haylz decided to treat a couple of us November babies to an interview with Toni Morrison in SF.

I was excited, but Haylz asked us about this months ago. It's like the time she bought tickets to see Gwen Stefani, and I completely forgot about the concert until like three days before...that Haylz...delayed gratification all the way around :p.

Anyway, I was excited but not entirely aware of how strongly I am in awe of Toni Morrison. That is, until I walked into the Mason Auditorium and saw her walk out on stage. Suddenly, I remembered how many times I've read Beloved, and how I loved but struggled to understand Jazz. I remembered how my grandmother was so confused over why my dad would want to read Song of Solomon so much as to request it for a Christmas present. I remembered how happy my dad was to get that book that my grandma begrudgingly bought him.

I often feel like a horrible English major. I can't quite Chaucer. I loathe the Romantics (with the possible exception of John Donne, but, really, an exception has to be made for a poet who compares orgasms to itches of fleas). I can't tell you about the lost loves of Emily Dickinson). Yet, when Ms. Morrison opened her mouth and began naming authors, I felt at home. James Baldwin! Richard Wright! Ralph Ellison! Zora Neale Hurston! Virginia Woolf! William Faulkner! Yes! I know your predecessors, Ms. Morrison. I know and understand what you're talking about! I really am an English major, just a different sort than people would expect.

Ms. Morrison speckled her conversation with humor, even cracking herself up once, and when the interviewer didn't get the joke, she paused, looked at him and said, "Well, I thought it was funny."

My favorite moment, though, came when an English major of the more typical sort asked Ms. Morrison if she had intended Sula to have so many similarities to Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom!. Ms. Morrison said, and I quote loosely here, "Not that I'm aware of...in fact, if I had been aware of it, I would have stopped writing someone else's book." I thought that her answer was perfect. She confirmed what I always suspected, that many authors don't intentionally weave in symbols...the symbols are innate in the story. She even mentioned reading an article that declared that Sula was really, secretly, a lesbian novel. She looked at the audience, gave a mysterious grin and said, "If I wanted to write a lesbian novel, I'd write a lesbian novel...and I'd do it up right."

I knew it!

I can't say that's true for every last author and poet whose work I spent hours analyzing and theorizing over and writing thesis statements about said analyzing and theorizing, but it is, at least, confirmed, that Toni Morrison writes to tell a story and not to trip her readers on hidden symbols and tricky meanings.

The conversation wrapped up, and we were released back into the crisp San Francisco air. I feel replenished as a reader, writer and degree holding English major.

So, thank you, Haylz. You gave me a gift I really needed - perhaps I should write that up in a thank you note ;).

Real World Wednesday

2008-11-19T18:52:00.000-08:00

The election is over. The coverage continues. The discussion of every little detail about the government continues. If I get a hankering for political news (which has been known to happen), I know just where to turn for a fix.

But there are other things going on in the world right now.

It's the season of year for giving!

Why?

Oh, for three reasons:
1) Around the holidays, people feel guilty about spending so much money on themselves, their family and their friends, so they give money to charities.
2) It's the end of the tax year, and some people like to build up those write-offs.
3) People who give regularly are inundated with requests for more funds and tend to give in to at least one.

This year, many charities are facing a money crunch, as any "extra" money people were giving to charity may not exactly be flying out the checking account this year.

If you're tightening your belt and feeling that binch, I still encourage you to get involved with charity efforts this year.

Doing the following won't cost you any money but will certainly provide a benefit for many, many people.

1) Find a one-time or holiday-only volunteer opportunity. Give some time away this year.

2) Sort through your kitchen cabinet, and put together a basket of non-perishable items to donate to your local food pantry. Sure, you spent money on the food originally, but are you really going to ever use 18 cans of garbanzo beans?

3) As we've talked about before, go through your dresser, your closet, your shoe tree (or any and all of the above for your significant other and/also children, if they'll let you) and take some items over to Goodwill or the Salvation Army.

4) Also consider donations of furniture...perhaps you've got an extra coffee table that your mother insisted you needed.

5) Pray. Pray for those in need. Pray for peace. Pray for the world around you. Prayer's free, after all.

Real World Wednesday

2008-11-13T19:44:00.001-08:00

I've been meaning to write up something since the election, but things kept getting in the way...things like finishing my book! That's right! I've got a full, first draft. Now, it's time for the tough stuff: editing.

Still, I've been keeping up with the world. I'm still on my NPR kick. I haven't given up on educating myself as if I were pursuing a graduate degree in life. After finishing both the Feminine Mystique and Fear of Flying, I'm moving on to Simone de Beauvoir (my academic streak had a little diversion into reading about the zipless f***).

But it's November, and the country is (mostly) on a post-election high. So, here's one big challenge for this week: what about/in your country are you most grateful for?

That seems just the right topic for the month of Thanksgiving :).

I'll start.

I am grateful that I live in a country and a state where I can express my views without fear of persecution.

Real World ELECTION DAY

2008-11-04T10:28:00.000-08:00

Your Election Day Mission(s):

1) Vote
2) Settle in and watch the results

No matter what happens, this election is a once-in-a-lifetime event!

And just for kicks, my mom shared this interesting tidbit this morning: This is the first election since 1976 that there has been neither a Clinton nor a Bush on the ballot (for VP or President).

Educating Myself

2008-11-03T17:00:00.000-08:00

I've picked up a few "educational" books in the past few weeks. I've also made a concerted effort to read my "work" books at work (that means that I force myself to spend time at work reading books like Kiki Strike. It's a tough life, I tell you what.

First on my list of educational reads: The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan. I've avoided reading this book in part because I thought the author would tell me things I didn't want to hear. I had misgivings and misunderstandings about this book, and I was afraid of reading that my desire for a good marriage and happy children somehow made me "less" of a woman. Of course, that's not what this book told me at all.

At 27 (sigh, nearly 28), I read a book that every woman should read at least once in her life. If you need to question the validity of the 50's and 60's era statistics, were they to be applied now, then do so, but the content is still valuable.

I recognized in myself the women who floated through college, studying various subjects, getting interested and educated on a variety of things but neve settling on any one particular topic, assuming that they would marry not long after college. Luckily, my varied education makes me an excellent librarian and an exceedingly interesting person.

As I read, I learned about women who lived lives I am terrified of living. I learned of women who devoted themselves, body, mind and soul, to their husbands and children and forgot what it meant to be an individual.

I learned that educated women who use their educations in some way (be it as a career-woman or an unpaid community leader) are healthier, more sexually satisfied and more comfortable in their own skin. I also learned that the husbands and children of these women are also far better off for having an individual for a mother instead of one who spends each and every day deeply involved in house cleaning.

Before I opted to read this book, I asked my mom if she had, and if she thought I should. She advised me to go ahead and pick it up but warned that it would "either help or hurt" my current emotional state. It helped. I feel that I'm making the right choices in my life.

I feel that having waited before diving into a long-term relationship, I was granted the opportunity to develop as an individual and as a woman. For that, I will be forever grateful.

Next up in the Edification of Sarah?: Second Sex by Simone De Beauvoir

p.s. I've updated Real World Wednesday: The Problem with Choice to include my thoughts on adoption.

Just in Time

2008-11-01T14:12:00.000-07:00

For a few years, I have long wanted to write another novel. The first one I wrote wasn't meant for the public. In that first attempt at novel writing, I worked through events in my family's recent history. The experience was therapeutic, but I didn't produce anything I wanted the world to see.

Since I've started reviewing books (the pay's not bad: free books), I have seen that my own writing ability certainly matches or beats what's currently on the market. I know that there's more to getting published than good writing, but I'm motivated, all the same.

I started to write a Young Adult Novel several months ago, and as I make my final push to finish telling the story and start editing, it just so happens to be November, National Novel Writing Month. I'll take the short weeks of this month to wrap up my work and ready the manuscrip for submission.

For the first year ever, I'll take part, though I know that my participation isn't exactly in line with the general concept of NaNoWriMo (to write an entire novel during the month of November). Here's to getting out what needs saying!

Happy Writing, Everyone...now back under your rocks!

I have GOT to stop doing that

2008-10-31T15:14:00.000-07:00

So, a few days ago, I commented on a lovely little blog about the sheer madness of couples costumes.

And guess who's getting all dolled up to be matchy-matchy with her boyfriend tonight?

If you guessed me and WG, well, by golly, you were right!

I've seriously got to stop saying that I would "never" do things when days later, there I am doing it. Or years later. Or, you know, whenever...

As far as habits go, I could think of a better one than going back on my "never" statements. I would say that I'll never say never, but hey, here I'll be, two days later telling you that I'll never buy a $600 purse and then bounce right back to show you pictures of my Chanel beauty (oh, lordy, don't tell my bank acocunt I said that).

Still, I'm excited about tonight's Halloween Festivities.

I've spent the day dressed like this:

But tonight, WG and are going to be these two:

...and heads up, I won't be Bristol.

Happy Halloween, Everyone!

Real World Wednesday

2008-10-29T15:16:00.000-07:00

Your mission is very, very important. It will make all the difference in your life this week.

One night this week, go to bed half an hour early.

See what a difference getting enough (or close to enough) sleep makes in your life.

A Little Late to Jump on the Wagon

2008-10-24T15:51:00.000-07:00

Oh, that wagon is so far down the road, I can't even see it.

Finally, I found NPR on my car radio. This seems ridiculous, as I've known of the station for years and years. Heck, I even pondered a job search there back in my "I'm gonna be a journalist!" days.

But I never could find the darn station on my local FM radio.

WG listens to it regularly and shares his finds with me, but when I ask him for the station numbers, he, mysteriously, could rarely tell them to me. Or if he did, and I tried the station in my neighborhood, all I got was static.

I tried a number of times. I'd go to the NPR website and track down local stations numbers. I would dilligently write down the numbers and promptly lose them by the time I got to the car.

This time, though, I finally did it! I got in the car, plugged the numbers into my pre-programmed stations, and I'm good to go. For the past two days, I've been devouring the newscasts. I've learned about a state bill that will bring more money to public transit. I have gotten caught up on the economic crisis in Argentina. I've listened to an interview with a young pop singer trying to get in touch with her Ukranian roots. Last night, I drove home to the blissfully calm sounds of a pianist doing her best to showcase her art.

So, on the off-chance that you're even later to the wagon than me, give NPR a chance! Go, run, find your local station, write it down, and for heavens' sake, don't lose it!

Real World Wednesday

2008-10-22T17:48:00.000-07:00

Your mission, should you choose to accept it...

Enjoy that last bit of fall light before we are plunged into the darkness of winter (that sounds far more drastic than I intended):

1) Turn off the election coverage and go take a walk.
2) Stop updating your facebook status and go breathe some fresh air.

Most importantly, turn off the election coverage. You're only driving yourselves crazy.

Relationships are Like Football

2008-10-21T08:39:00.000-07:00

I've been trying so hard to progress the ball towards the goal.

In reality, I need to get off the field and go just throw some passes and play catch and enjoy the ride.

Real World Wednesday

2008-10-15T16:36:00.000-07:00

This week's challenge: Prioritizing.

Take our your to-do list, or think through that long list of things you know you have to do but haven't written down yet.

Now, cross off two.

Deux Ans

2008-10-13T16:16:00.000-07:00

During the past two years, we have traveled to new places. We have road-tripped and battled airport security. We have stayed in hotels, with relatives and on fold-out sofas. We have eaten in a restaurant where we were served by a member of the Cherry Poppin' Daddies. We have feasted on the best of junk food at In 'N' Out, Sonic (Sonic Burger, according to me) and the "famous" Mr. D's.

During the past two years, we have prepared meals for each other. We have shared old favorites, invented recipes, taken risks and enjoyed every moment.

During the past two years, we have learned about each other. We have taken in the basic facts of favorite color (not that mine was hard to discern), favorite drink at Starbucks (more difficult for him, as mine changes on a weekly basis) and salad preferences. We have learned the difficult things like how closely I hold to my family, friends and pets and how much he would like to return, someday, permanently to the Corral.

During the past two years, we have laughed, cried, and argued.

During the past two years, he has helped me learn that the fairy tale version of life I had envisioned for myself is nothing in comparison to the reality God has set aside for me.

During the past two years, I have been free to be my wacky self, never having to hide my tears or the insane things that make me laugh.

During the past two years, he has put up with the loudest cat on the planet and learned to love him and learned to treat his asthma.

During the past two years, we have gotten to be geeks together, playing and talking about video games.

During the past two years, he has been welcomed into my family, and I have begun the process of getting to know his.

During the past two years, we have met each other's friends and allowed them to become interwined with each other.

During the past two years, we have grown as Christians and adapted to the differences in our belief systems.

During the past two years, I have learned that there are some questions I just can't answer yet. I have learned that there are questions he can't ask.

During the past two years, I have learned that it's hard, but it's worth every moment.

During the past two years, I have learned to ask for help and to trust that the help given will in my best interest.

During the past two years, I have learned to trust.

During the past two years, I have learned that the first blush of love is nothing in comparison to a love that has blossomed and grown.

During the past two years, we have loved and been loved.

Here's to two wonderful years and many, many more.

Real World Wednesday

2008-10-09T10:28:00.000-07:00

Live from Las Vegas...and fresh from a day spent with my grandmother and aunt on Route 66...

Today's challenge: Call or visit a relative you don't see very often. Remember the elevated spot they (perhaps) once occupied in your life.

Real World Wednesday

2008-10-01T14:26:00.000-07:00

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, go pet an animal who needs it.

It's as simple as that. It's been a rough week for pets in my family, a really rough week, and I think that if everyone in the world were to go out and show an animal some affection, then the karmic balance in the world may just be restored for all of us.

She Was Waiting at the Gate

2008-09-30T10:30:00.000-07:00

I never wanted to have a male and female dog at the same time. I read Where the Red Fern Grows in the fourth or fifth grade. I knew what happened when a pair of dogs bonded, and one of the dogs passed, and I was having none of that.

But...within a two year span at the start of high school, we rescued JJ (we didn't realize it was a rescue at the time, but it turned out to be a life saver for her), and my mom finally let my dad have a German Shepherd. And that Shepherd we named George Bailey.

Bailey, like his fictional counterpart, had some worries and fears about his family, but he always patrolled the backyard each night and protected us all as best he could.

I worried, as the two dogs got older, about what would happen when JJ passed, because she was older and had more obvious health problems. How would Bailey handle it?

Bailey was ever the devoted "husband." JJ wants to eat his food? Okay, go ahead sweetie. Bailey has done something that displeases JJ? Alright, Bailey will stand while JJ lifts her mouth to his ear and growls right into it.

If JJ went out for a walk, or to the vet, when we returned Bailey was waiting at the gate. He would investigate JJ's entire body, smelling, licking where necessary, and then come over to the humans and butt his head against our legs, as if to say, "Thanks for bringing her back...I might trust you to take her out again."

As JJ aged, her legs began to fail her. Her eyes are saggy and unfocused. She spends her days resting in the sun, wagging her tail and getting frequent pets on the head.

As Bailey aged, his once athletic body, one he used both to chase rabbits and once to protect my father against a pack of dogs roving the streets, began to turn against him. His hips ached. His nose, the source of much of his knowledge, became clogged and useless. During the mornings and the evenings, his pains were the worst. He stayed on the side of the house, away from the other dogs, out of sight of the humans. When his body warmed up, he moved to the grass and would smile and allow us to pet his proud head.

Several months ago, Tosh joined the family. Bailey perked up. He had someone new in his life! He needed to teach! And chase! And play! All when his weary body would allow him.

JJ exists simply to growl at him when the humans are around and to snuggle with him when she thinks we can't see.

Over the past seven months, Bailey has bestowed his knowledge onto Tosh.

Tosh would walk the yard with Bailey. He learned that JJ requires special attention and that she may always eat any of the food, not just her own. He took on the JJ habit of cleaning Bailey's ears.

They made a wonderful little family.

With a thirteen year old German Shepherd, though, the future is short, and Bailey has failed fast in the last month. His clogged nose? Probably sinus cancer. His aching hips? Hardly supporting his weight at all. After a terrifying moment last week that involved an unstoppable bloody nose, it became clear that our hero, our proud German Shepherd had reached the end of his life.

JJ took to sleeping by his dog house, something she's never done. Tosh cleaned Bailey's entire face, not just his hears, and took over the nightly patrols.

The opposite of what I had always worried about came true, and it would be JJ who would be left behind.

My dad made that final call.

Sunday morning, we walked beside our Bailey as he stumbled into the vet's office one last time. My dad and I went into the little room to be with Bailey. My mom and WG (what a superstar) waited outside. Bailey's passing was peaceful, just what he deserved after all of his hard work to protect and love our family for more than thirteen years.

And when my parents returned home, with an empty backseat, JJ was waiting at the gate, hoping to welcome home her Bailey.

George Bailey - 1995-2008

Top Five Reasons I Am Not Attending My High School Reunion

2008-09-27T09:21:00.000-07:00

5. It's today, and we were all told about it a whopping three weeks ago.

4. It's in the high school gym. Seriously? Ten years out of high school, and we're relegated to the "don't you dare scratch that precious floor" gym where we circulated around in P.E. clothes? Couldn't get a restaurant reservation for 165 on three weeks notice? Fancy that.

3. Facebook. I know what's up with everyone I need to know about already.

2. My mom's best friend's daughter, a girl I've known since the fourth grade, is getting married today. The reunion starts when the reception will just be getting good.

1. I'm over high school, and, amazingly, I'm over it enough that I have no need to parade my boyfriend and my master's degree around the high school gym, introducing them both to the people who made fun of me, the ones who dropped books on my head, the popular girls who are planning the reunion (who have, in fact, planned everything that ever happened with my class at the high school), groveling for approval.

Cheers, though, to the class of 1998. We've made it to adulthood, fairly unscathed. Congratulations to us all!

Anyone Have Any Ideas...

2008-09-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

on how to cure a cat of wheezing? My vet is threatening with this.

And considering that when I give my cat medicine, he turns into this:

I'd really like to avoid having to stick a mask on his face...

Real World Wednesday

2008-09-24T09:49:00.000-07:00

From now until November, each week's Real World Wednesday will include a challenge.

Challenge 1:
Go register to vote, or, if you're already registered (good for you!), get one person you know and love to register.

You're the Only You You've Got

2008-09-22T16:30:00.000-07:00

I'll be the first to admit that my parents did a bang-up job. Sure, I've got issues, but I'm convinced not all of said issues are the fault of my parents.

But there are others who spend most of their lives trying to overcome their childhoods, often at the expense of properly taking care of themselves.

My mom, whom I love more than words can possibly express, is one such person. She had a tumble recently, and she's having trouble sitting still and letting her body heal. I know exactly why my mom thinks she's not worth taking care of: Her mother.

My grandmother has more issues than can be contained in a single blog post, but suffice it to say she made a wreck out of anyone who ever believed they deserved anything. And so, my mother thinks she deserves exactly nothing.

Over the years, she's improved at this dramatically -- but it took a severing of ties with my grandmother for that to really start happening, and it's all to easy to regress. My mom thinks that she needs to clean the house, make dinner and give herself no time whatsoever, because why does she deserve to take a break? Who is she to sit down and relax? Isn't it her responsiblity to keep a nice house and have dinner on the table? I must insert here that my father has given her no such idea...he loves her cooking, but he loves eating out and also wants to have the love of his life around for many more decades.

She's learned to buy herself a Coach purse without guilt (but of course, it has to be at the outlet, on sale and with a coupon), but she hasn't learned how to care for her body.

Growing up with chronic illness, I've learned that if I don't take care of my body, it won't take care of me. I simply have to get myself to bed at a reasonable hour. I simply have to skip the housecleaning if I'm sick. My mother will read this and say, "You do it, too! You work yourself to the bone!" That's true. I also know better, and when I'm working myself silly, I'm thinking, "This is ridiculous. I need to sit down and have a snack before bad things start to happen."

Mama just works herself silly and doesn't get that little voice in her head telling her to take care of herself. The voice in her head tells her to keep working, because she's a nothing of a person and doesn't deserve a break.

I worry that she'll never learn what she needs to do for her body. I worry that she'll age before her time, because she's not allowing herself to be treated well.

It's not only that she deserves to be taken care of but that she has a responsibility to take care of herself.

I know she reads my blog, and I know these are all words she's heard before, but I really want her to understand that taking care of herself now is not just something she owes herself but something she owes her family and friends and pets and God, you know, because of that whole temple of the Holy Spirit thing.

Yeah, that's right, I brought out the Jesus. I am not above guilt tripping with Bible verses to get my mom to stay off her feet and stay away from cleaning the kitchen floor.

I want her to take care of herself for the sheer love of the body and life God gave her, but if I have to come out swinging guilt, oh, I'm all over it.

So, here I am, guns blazing, insisting that she immediately start taking better care of herself, before I have to go over there and kick some booty...and seriously, who wants to have to kick their mother?

Real World Wednesday

2008-09-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

Five Things You Can Do This Weekend to Change the World

1) Finally, and I do mean, finally, commit to using your own bags when you're out shopping. I brought in a tacky cloth bag to fancy clothing store, and the saleswoman looked at me like I was nuts for not accepting the pretty paper back she offered, but I'm over it.

2) Drive less. The weather (in some places) is still holding steady. So, walk for your hit of Starbucks or Peets or Tim Horton's or Tapioca Express...whatever your poison.

3) Bring your own cup.

4) Cook your own dinner, using local products.

5) Call someone you love...it'll make the world a brighter place.

Real World Wednesday

2008-09-11T18:40:00.000-07:00

The Problem with "Choice."

Yes, I'm going to talk about abortion.

If you don't want to read about it, then feel free to turn away, but let me warn you that this isn't a glorious song about how one side is right and the other is wrong. This is actually about how both sides have a little bit in the right column and quite a bit in the wrong.

This is about the fact that Barack Obama said of his daughters, "But, if they make a mistake I don't want them punished with a baby."

This is about the fact that this week's Newsweek includes an article with the following statement: If you do not allow teenage girls who accidentally become pregnant to have abortions, you are demanding that they either raise their children as single mothers or that they marry in shotgun weddings.

Something is wrong, people. Something is very, very wrong.

I became a member of Feminists for Life after years, and I mean more than a decade, of volunteering with a pro-life non-profit organization.

When I volunteered only at annual events or participated in a prayer group, I didn't see the gaping holes in what this local non-profit could provide to women facing unexpected pregnancies. This particular non-profit could provide pregnancy tests and counseling and offered support for the needs of children up to two years old (clothes, food, etc.). What they couldn't do was encourage the mothers to move forward with their lives and finish high school or college or find a way to rejoin the work force. These women were, if not punished, at the least saddled with raising a child. Obama got that right.

But the reason Obama got that right is not because of non-profits that encourage women to carry their pregnancies to term. Instead, Obama got this right because both liberals and conservatives alike have failed women.

Many women are left without the community and institutional support required to raise a child. Whether they're in a stable relationship or facing a pregnancy as the result of a one-night stand, women who have not planned on a particular pregnancy are left with few options.

Not enough has changed since the Women's Rights Movement.

In fact, I would venture to say that although contraception and abortion rights have shed light on the shady business of back alley abortions, the legalization of abortion prevented any progress towards society offering emotional, financial and/or physical support to women unprepared to raise a child.

Instead, the general attitude in the US, and in other parts of the world, is that if a woman doesn't want a child, she should have an abortion. If the woman "chooses" to have the child, well, then, she must face the consequences of their decision.

Liberals preach "choice," as though the option to end an innocent life solves our problems. What about women who choose to not have an abortion? What measures have liberals put into place to protect them?

A woman's right to choose is a politically spun term. We all know that, for many politicians, "choice" means the right to an abortion, and those abortions will be provided at tax payer cost.

Why do we offer so little support to the woman who chooses to have and raise the child?

Another question: Why do women who choose to give up their children for adoption face a stigma?

Surrogate mothers will tell a willing audience about their decision to carry a child for a fertility-challenged couple, but women carrying a child to term so that a (possibly) unknown couple can benefit rarely have the same courage to stand and speak. Giving up a child of one's own is stigmatized.

Women may stand by a friend when she chooses abortion but will scoff at a decision to carry through a pregnancy and then hand over a child. Why is the decision to give a child up for adoption so much harder to accept than the decision to abort a child?

I encourage proponents of choice to offer adoption as an option in place of abortion. Yes, a woman would need to put her body through the physical strain of pregnancy, but think of the joy that strain would bring to parents who are ready and willing to provide for the well-being of a child.

I not only stand on my soap box. I carry it around with me and actually do soemthing about the injustice of society treating pregnancy as a punishment.

I have done my own small part to make a change. Well, I have done two small things.

The smallest is that I pay for my membership in Feminists for Life. I support an organization that wants to get affordable day cares on college campuses. Feminists for Life is a non-partisan group, and they're trying very hard to fill a gap in service that has existed since long before abortion was legalized.

The larger of my two contributions is an outreach program I coordinate with the teen mothers program at a local continuation high school. Each month, I do a storytime session for both pregnant and parenting teens. Following the story time, I talk to the moms about topics including interview skills, going to college, paying for college and remembering to take personal time for themselves.

I don't want scared and confused women to abort their children. I won't insist that they raise them on their own, but if they do decide to raise their children, then I want to be part of a system that that saves them from dropping out of society. I want to keep mothers in high school, in college, in graduate school and in the work force. I don't want anyone to ever feel punished by pregnancy.

I wish that more of our leaders felt the same way.

In closing, I urge Barack Obama to consider strengthening the rights of women not through guaranteeing that abortion will remain easy and legal but by offering free, state-sponsored daycare and pre-school. I urge John McCain to propose a career program that assists young and/or single mothers in getting into meaningful jobs, rather than low-paying jobs that offer survival as the only benefit.

And I encourage all women to support the rights of all women and to truly embrace the choices women have.

Real World Wednesday

2008-09-03T13:28:00.000-07:00

A moment of silence for Matt Garcia, a 22-year old city councilman, elected at age 21 and shot down at age 22, after trying for nearly a year to clean up his hometown.

I Like the Planes That Go BOOM!

2008-09-02T18:35:00.000-07:00

This Labor Day weekend, I had to work not one, but two days. I had Monday off, and looked forward to that glorious day outside of the library, spent with none other than WG and a couple of his friends from the Corral who know live in the Bay Area.

Still, I had two work days to get through, two work days while I watched everyone enjoying the gorgeous weather, soaking up the rays and otherwise not working.

And get through those days, I did, and you want to know how? Because I actually let myself enjoy them.

I let myself enjoy the special feeling that occurs only on early Saturday morning at work, when we're paid to work without our bosses around. At 8:30 on a Saturday morning, there is a strange giddiness that permeates the staff: we've been left to our own devices, alone, in an empty library. By 10, when the doors open and the public pours in, it's pretty much the same as any other day, but those first couple of hours are unique, and I have to admit that I enjoy them.

Saturday, I fled from work later than expected, because we had to move all the furniture to get ready for a carpet cleaning, but still got home and had time to spend with WG. We made pizza dough and indulged in the silliness that was Mad Money. The dough was ready, and we gently covered it with tasty toppings. One pizza was graced with tomato paste, chicken, feta cheese and sun dried tomatoes -- this one had a wheat crust. The other, with a regular crust, was decorated with a tomato-pesto sauce, feta, garlic and chicken. Both were quite delightful and went well with the caesar salad I whipped up. We enjoyed the pizza with a special beer WG has taken a shine to, a trappist with some special bits that make him happy. Of course, I can't remember the name at all, but I do appreciate that it's meant to be drunk out of a wine glass.

The clear blue sky on Sunday, yet another work day, amazingly, failed to make me shake my fist to the heavens and bemoan the fact that I would waste this glorious day indoors. We scurried around getting ready for church (this time, an attempt at a local Methodist church, as WG is a Methodist by birth), and arrived to find an all white, almost all old, congregation being led by an enthusiastic African American minister. We were regularly tapped on the shoulders and made to introduce ourselves, and everyone seemed quite pleased to have some fresh blood wandering into their midst. The service was nice and vaguely familiar for this Catholic girl, since this was a traditional service with a bit more order and form, and WG thought the pianist really rocked it out (which he did, as much as a pianist can rock it out to old school hymns.

I sat through church somewhat anxiously, waiting and waiting to go to the Air Expo, the first to be held on our local air force base since 2001. I had only found out about it in a helpful e-mail from my mom (and then gone and bounced around the apartment for ten minutes, waiting for WG to get out of the shower so I could share the news with him), but I was still itching to get out of church. I had to keep reminding myself how happy I'd been about going to church for the first time in weeks (I'm full of excuses about that, but I won't bore you with them), but the anxiousness to get out and see the big planes and listen to them go "boom" was quickly overtaking my ability to listen to the sermon or sit still for that matter. This should come as no surprise to anyone, since I am eternally a nine year old waiting for the excitement to start.

The expo did not disappoint me, and the familiarity of my annual summer haunt was comforting. The heat and light steaming up from the concrete ground, the smell of diesel fuel, the roar of engines. Sigh. I was at one of my all-time favorite locations.

I made the most of the mere hour and a half to spare before showing up to my time at work. I munched on a yummy cheesburger cooked by yummy Air Force guys. I watched, with my mouth hanging open, as an aerobatic pilot flew his plane into all kinds of twisty situations and then came down a little lower to race, a, wait for it, jet-engine car. The car measured 0-300 mph like we measure 0-60 mph. This was, perhaps, the coolest car I have ever seen, and it pretty much just looked like a jet engine on wheels. WG and I managed to meet up with my parents, and my mom and I were happy as clams waving when the cheesy announcer told us to wave at the pilot. WG and my dad wandered off to look at planes under closer inspection.

We meandered through a cargo plane and then, with only moments to spare, stared in awe at the KC-135 and the spot on the belly where men, like my grandfather did in his heyday, lay on their bellies and operate the "boom" out of the back of the plane. That's a bad-ass job, I tell you what. And I'm guessing those men would win any kind of hand-eye coordination competition -- I mean, operating a fuel pump in mid-air? I can hardly get the thing to my on-the-ground gas tank let alone in mid-air during a friggin' war!

And then I went to work.

And you know what? It didn't suck. I didn't feel like work had eaten up every last bit of my day, and when WG came to pick me up (a special treat that happens on Sundays when we've gone to church, and he drops me off and, thus, must pick me up), I was in a happy mood. I didn't feel gyped out of my day, out of my weekend, and that makes all the difference.

Then on Monday, we finally made it to the Exploratorium (it's been on an unwritten list for the entirety of WG's time in California). As the carload of us watched a woman finish her jog, slowing to a walk as she came out of Fort Mason, I said, "You know, there are those who take advantage of a day off to get in a work out or take care of chores, but I prefer to spend my holidays eating junk food and playing with toys."

And with that, we went to eat pizza and play Mario Kart.

Real World Wednesday

2008-08-27T14:09:00.000-07:00

Meatless Mondays

A few of the magazines that I read with some regularity have been touting the concept of meatless monday. The Meatless Monday website promotes the concept of choosing one day a week when you refrain from eating meat on purpose, not just because you happened to gobble down only things containing pasta, cheese and peanut butter (though not necessarily all together).

In other words, it only counts if you're doing this for a purpose.

The Meatless Monday site mentions that this is a "national health campaign to help Americans prevent heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and cancer - four of the leading causes of death in America." My friendly magazines inform me that this campaign also helps out with that whole "green" thing. The raising, slaughtering (that word alone is almost enough to make me turn entirely vegetarian) and transporting meat animals expends a great deal of our natural resources. If people around meat-crazed North America (I'm talking to you, Denny's Beer Pub) band together and refrain from meat every Monday, well, hey, we may just add a couple of decades to the life of our planet.

And just think how much energy we'll save during Lent, and we super-fancy Catholics are going meatless TWICE a week.

Here are a couple environmentally friendly (I hope) ideas to help you start out your meatless monday routine (I'm not guaranteeing these are waistline friendly).

Salmon and Leek Quiche (I'm not opening up the debate about why fish is not considered meat...just go with me on this one).

Vegetarian Chili

Cornbread(because what is chili without cornbread?)

And for you truly adventurous and brave chefs out there, how about your very own, homemade Falafel

And Two People Fell in Love

2008-08-25T10:55:00.000-07:00

My favorite wedding of the summer happened this weekend. Someone I've known since 2000 married someone she's known since 1998. So, as long as I've known my friend, she's known her (now) husband. They've always been a part of each other, but they've never had the relationship that, to me, seemed obnoxious. If her man was around, we were happy to see him. If she talked to him on the phone while we three roommates were having a chat, she brought him into the conversation. Those four-way conversations are one of my fondest college memories.

It helps that this is the only wedding this summer in which the the couple getting married have dated longer than WG and I have. At nine and a half years together, there's no question that these two are ready for marriage. And it showed. They were so comfortable with each other throughout the whole ceremony. The officiant cautioned them that they shouldn't get too complacent, that they shouldn't an assume they "know each other," even after nine and a half years together. I wanted to turn and look pointedly at WG, because we'd had a conversation about "knowing" each other earlier in the day. Being the six year old that I am, I wanted to stand up and say, "See! Ha! Nine and a half years and they don't know each other! We've got plenty of time to learn the little details, and we'll keep learning until we're too old to remember anything, and then we'll start learning again!" Being the grown-up, charming woman that I am, I simply smiled and kept on watching the wedding.

I cried when the bride cried saying her vows, but only because this was the first time in eight years of friendship that I have seen my friend cry.

I got a little teary during the speeches, but only because the bride's twin, whom I have also known for eight years, doesn't usually cry either.

It was nice to cry simply because my friends were crying, and not because the words they were saying touched some odd little chord in my heart. No, these were tears of unity, not tears that meant I had selfishly involved my own romantic emotion.

My friend and her soulmate got married. There was much laughter. There was (finally!) dancing. There were smiles and pictures and happy moments.

And I am so happy that two people fell in love.

Real World Wednesday

2008-08-13T19:56:00.000-07:00

This week, my real world is all about the Olympics, every girl's weird little crush on Raj Bhavsar.

...and, oh yeah, that war in Georgia, where we've got US troops delivering aid, 'cause our troops aren't spread thin enough.

I'd much rather watch the Olympics.

Real World Wednesday

2008-08-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning with the phrase, "You are priveleged" in my mind. I've fought my whole life in defense of the fact that my family didn't start out with stable finances. I've had to explain to any number of people that I know what it's like to have your clothes on lay-away at Kmart (not that it was any of their business to start with). The fact remains, though, that I lead, and have probably always led, a life of privilege. I am loved by both of my (still married) parents. I have a grandmother whose only (current) complaint about me is that she doesn't see me often enough. I have a job that pays enough for me to have enough left over to have a subscription to an online game. Seriously? Folks, that's privilege.

I may not have the biggest house or the fanciest car. I may have parents who have always worked in public service. Oh, but I am privileged.

And that is something I must remember as I grow irritated with the customer who may be a tad hard to understand because of all those missing teeth. I shouldn't complain so much about spending at least an hour a day standing, because there is a man who has no legs who frequents my workplace.

I am privileged, and chances are, if you have the leisure time to read this blog (if, indeed, you know what a blog is), you are privileged, too.

Sarcastic Writing by Fabulous Women

2008-08-04T19:22:00.000-07:00

I've read most of Laurie Notaro's books, starting with I Love Everybody and Other Atrocious Lies. I poured through Haven Kimmel's A Girl Named Zippy. I always am on the lookout for other authors with a similar sense of enjoyment in the absolutely absurd elements of their lives.

Happily, I discovered Sloane Crosley and I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and you should, too.

Crosley covers a variety of topics, from her strangely acquired collection of plastic ponies:

"I don't even like ponies. If I made one of my throwaway equine requests and someone produced an actual pony, Juan Valdez-style, I would run very fast in the other direction."

and the awkward evenings that can come of spending time with friends from another time.

"You are beginning to get the hang of these friendships again. They feel familiar, like riding a bike. This social ease could atrophy before the nights is through. But for now, you're enjoying yourself."

If I don't entirely feel like I could be Sloane Crosley, I certainly feel that I could have known her in college. She would have been the girl with the crazy, funny stories about dates gone wrong. She would have been the girl who made a fantastic evening out of even the most boring social functions.

And her book certainly livened up the waiting room at the bank :).

Fast Forward

2008-08-01T15:14:00.001-07:00

I have lots of changes that could potentially happen in my life in the next six to twelve months. Okay, so that's the vaguest sentence ever. There are a number of big changes that could BELIEVABLY happen in my life soon...not immediately, but soon enough to cause me worry.

There are moments, when I feel weighted down by all of the uncertainty, that I wish I could just know what would happen, that I could be through all of the rough stuff and content on the other side.

When I pause, half in and half out of the shower, or mindlessly standing in front of the fridge, thinking about this wish (because I always pause in the most awkward places when I'm caught mid-thought), though, I realize that I wouldn't actually do it if I could.

Where will I work? Where will I live? Who will I live with? Will things with WG have taken a step forward? How will I maintain relationships with my parents and my friends in California? Will I even have left the state? See. Big questions.

If someone walked up to me, with a DVD of my future life and said, "Hey, watch this. It's the story of your life, two years from now." I'd say, "First, you're a freak. Second, no thanks."

As much as I want to know what everything will look like, as much as I want to be over the big pain of moving far away from my parents and close friends (again), I know that living those moments will make the happiness all the better.

With my finger hovering over that fast forward button, I stop, and I just let my life play out as it will. The not knowing is both terrifying and exhilirating, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Real World Wednesday

2008-07-30T13:29:00.000-07:00

Walk it Off!

Real World Wednesday has covered the topic of Childhood Obesity in the past, and a couple of recent news articles have me thinking on the topic of weight and health again.

Of course...one look at the lazy characters on Wall-E also had its impact.

The two articles that got me thinking are these:
1) The new study suggesting that 58% percent of the world's population will be obese by 2030.
2) The WebMD article promoting the notion of walkable neighborhoods as a weight-maintenance, if not weight-loss, technique.

Most Pixar movies have a message. There was the whole scare shortage vs. electricty shortage of Monsters, Inc. for one, and Wall-E provides no exception. Though some blame the obesity of the characters on the collapse of Earth's environment, as someone who spends her days observing everyone from ages 4 to 100stare blankly at the computer screen, I blame the obesity in Pixar's latest on an over-involvement with technology and an underinvolvement with the surrounding world.

Non-walkable suburban neighborhoods not only require that people use their cars more often, but they also encourage folks to simply stay inside. If you could just walk down to the corner to pick up some fruit, wouldn't you rather do that than get up off your couch, get in the car and drive five miles away? Especially with current gas prices?

So, to avoid this plague of obesity, what can you do? Well, for one, you can advocate for sidewalks in your neighborhood. Write letters to your Homeowners Association, city councilpeople or mayor. Let the people in power know that your neighborhood needs change. Aside from just advocating for safe walk spaces in neighborhoods, you have to take up the charge and walk. Don't just leave this to those saucy secretaries and their white reeboks walking around the block on their lunch breaks!

Why Sarah Needs a Sabbatical

2008-07-28T15:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Non-Existent Sabbatical Committee,

I know that you don't usually give sabbaticals to librarians who have worked in the field for less than two years, because, really, shouldn't two years still feel like a vacation? Shouldn't I still be reveling in the fact that I'm all done with the stress-mess that was grad school? Sadly, though, I am not.

So, great, wise, Sabbatical-Granting Committee, though I am hardly a seasoned veteran, I would request that you provide me with an extended sabbatical for the following reasons:

1) It would allow me to fully recover the patient smile and friendly demeanor I had two years ago.
2) It would provide me with a break from the crazy customers who insist on yelling, yes, yelling, across the library when they have a question of some kind.
3) It would relieve me from the impossible to tolerate meetings in which I am told for the nineteenth time how to do something that I already do right.

Perhaps these reasons seem like excuses. Perhaps these reasons won't convince you to pay for me to not work in your facility, but oh, great Sabbatical-Granting-Committee, I believe that you know the truth. I believe that you know that this job is, to quote someone near and dear to me, "ruining me." You must know that I can still be saved from bitterness!

A return date? Oh.

Uhm.

About that.

I'll have to get back to you.

Sincerely,

Me

Real World Wednesday

2008-07-23T17:49:00.000-07:00

On Being Young.

What does it mean to be young?

Is young when you're a child? When you're in high school? When you're 22?

I ponder this not only for myself but also in light of the current presidential campaign. Barack Obama is being pegged as young and inexperienced, yet the man probably remembers the 70's like I remember the 90's. Obama is married, has two children, has more than one college degree under his belt and has served in the senate. Plug that in to someone born, oh, let's say 19 years after him, and he certainly doesn't seem like the same kind of "young."

When do we stop being young? Do we ever? And no, this is more than that "young at heart" business. This is real youth.

My peers and I are not all that far from 30, but we are all at the point in our careers when we're both looked down upon for our youth and praised for our energy. But in ten years, or even five, when the next crop of overachieving graduates enters our field and seems oh so much younger what will that make us?

Is it all a matter of perspective? My over-25 friends all seem young when we think about our over 30 friends, our over-40 co-workers, our over-50 parents. Then, we encounter a group of 20 or 21-year olds and suddenly feel old.

Obama is young in comparison to John McCain, who quite possibly remembers the 1940's like Obama remembers the 1970's and I remember the 1990's. Obama is also young in comparison to your typical president. The youngest elected president was Theodore Roosevelt at 42. So, at nearly 47, Obama falls after four prior presidents. He would not be the youngest, yet his youth is a major factor in this presidential campaign, as was Bill Clinton's.

I can remember that Bill Clinton took advantage of his relative youth. He played sax on the Arsenio Hall Show. He and Hillary danced like maniacs to Fleetwood Mac. He took advantage of the fact that he was neither George H. W. Bush or Bob Dole. Barack, on the other hand, seems to want to shove his youth under a rug.

In any case, it seems to me that youth can be used for or against someone. It's all just a matter of perspective.

Self Diagnosis

2008-07-21T17:40:00.000-07:00

In my two undergraduate psychology courses, I was warned against "self-diagnosis," and that included making guesses as to what may be "wrong" with various friends and family members. For the most part, I headed this advice, at least in the presence of my instructors.

After reading, Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robison, I am more convinced than ever that through my father's bloodline runs the tendency to be a bit on the Aspergian side of the autism spectrum.

According to both John Elder Robison and WebMD, Asperger's Syndrome often shows symptoms including:

Not pick up on social cues and lack inborn social skills

Dislike any changes in routines.

Avoid eye contact.

Talk a lot, usually about a favorite subject. One-sided conversations are common. Internal thoughts are often verbalized.

The most interesting, and perhaps oddest, symptom that I discovered while reading the book, is that Aspergians tend to like small spaces and also like to sleep with something heavy on top of them - this can include pillows or blankets or even another human being. While I can certainly relate to the lack of eye contact, the tendency to get caught up in talking about my own favorite topics, it's the blankets and the need for warmth and weight on top of me that stands out most. It's also the one that affects someone else (that would be WG). I can't explain why I like to have heavy covers on top of me...I just do, and I'm beginning to understand a bit more that there may not be an actual reason.

As a kid, I tucked myself away in corners. In fact, as a teenager, when I had the opportunity to rearrange my furniture, I created corners and small, snug places, that I then packed with pillows. I would also hide away in my closet. In fact, I still tend to have dreams about crawling into the closet with a book and just escaping for a few hours.

WG is a social creature. He flourishes when surrounded by people. I shrink. My technique for dealing with this is to take frequent bathroom breaks. I can go and be in a room, alone, breath, and reconnect with the world. Overstimuation, crowded places and too many things happening at once tend to make me go "Vegas," or, as I am beginning to see, make me go just a bit autistic.

There are more things that are present in both my life and that of my father, but I think the blankets and the blank stares are enough for now.

It's time to go spend a nice, quiet, commute in the small, safe world that is my Honda Civic.

30

2008-07-15T14:28:00.001-07:00

Thirty is a crisp, clean number. It's solid. Thirty hints at what may have happened in three decades.

Thirty means that time has passed but that there is still time to come.

Thirty means dedication, commitment.

Thirty has memories of slammed doors and raised voices, but thirty also clearly remembers a walk down the aisle and the feel of a newborn baby, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.

Thirty is beautiful. Thirty is melancholy. Thirty is proud.

Thirty is love.

Happy Anniversary, Mama and Daddy!

Clamming Up and Calming Down

2008-07-10T19:20:00.000-07:00

I'm on a constant quest to calm down. That's just a fact. Another fact is that I HAVE calmed down, significantly, in fact, over the past couple of years. I still get worked up, and I still run around like a crazy chicken when things start get a little bit stressful. Overall, though, I feel ready to move onto the next project.

and that would be Clamming Up.

I talk smack about my co-workers. I could justify it to you all 100 different kinds of ways, but I'll limit it to one: Some people exhaust me, and their various antics require that I vent a little bit. Luckily (or unluckily), several other co-workers agree that the venting sessions are sometimes necessary.

Today, however, I called a halt. On Tuesday, three of us were standing in a huddle, sharing horror stories about "Dwight Schrute" (that's really the only name I can use to describe this person, because this co-worker really does belong on The Office). Over the next couple of nights, as I fell asleep, I was riddled with guilt. Three of us. Standing in public. Complaining about a co-worker. That's just not right.

And so, it's over. We're going to work as a team to not smack talk against each other and try our hardest to avoid what one co-worker faced with a previous employer: group therapy.

Real World Wednesday

2008-07-09T16:17:00.001-07:00

Well, me and my purple toenails (that's for you, Ruby)survived a weekend with 22,000 librarians and nearly a week with 22,000 of WG's relatives and friends. I may be slightly exaggerating one of those numbers, and it's up to you to figure out with one, ha.

More on the trip later.

Now, it's all about Mawwiage.

A dear, dear friend and I have gotten into many a verbal tussle over the value and meaning of marriage. Both of us intend to enter into it at some point in our lives, but the societal value of it has different meaning for both of us. So, I thought I'd take the current discussion "public."

I've already told you about my thoughts on Motherhood, and that topic ties clearly in with Marriage.

Can all agree on the fact that notion of love as a reason for marriage is relatively new? Certainly love existed in marriages, but love as a catalyst for marriage? That's a modern invention.

I would venture a guess that even with love as a cataylst, many marriages still take place because the provide financial advancement (a merger of two powerful families, for example).

And now, for what most defines our perceptions of the importance of marriage: the media. With movies like Sex and the City and awful books like Chasing Harry Winston, it's possible to say that marriage hasn't made much progress in the past fifty years, at least not as far as the media is concerned.

Current movies and books often drive home the point that life without a partner may be the best bet, and that, my friends, is a new concept for a society at large to accept. Others still treat women as gold-diggers who chase after men as the only solution to their problems. Rather than having society treat women as a man's property, novels like Chasing Harry Winston show the women making themselves property.

The fact remains that, while American Society has come to see marriage as more of an equal partnership than at any other time in recent history, things, with a few notable exceptions (Sex and the City being one), haven't changed that much in our television shows and movies. Mothers on t.v. still prepare dinner, though it may consist of take-out fried chicken, and the moms are sarcastic, rather than placid and pretty in their pearls. Women in books, movies and on t.v., still scramble after men and get as worked up ast the Bennet sisters.

Perhaps marriage in the real-world has changed more than many of us are willing to admit (because then, some true believers in the fish/bicycle phenomenon may well have to jump on the marriage boat), but the media has only made small changes here and there. Women primp and preen and prepare pot roast. Girls giggle when a boy looks their way.

Perhaps none of this matters. Perhaps if we're able to look beyond the media (and that's a tough thing to do, mind you), we'll see that marriage as a cultural institution really has changed, and that we women aren't out there selling ourselves to the highest bidder.

Well, That Explains It!

2008-06-26T16:06:00.000-07:00

In case I haven't mentioned it, and I don't think I have, I'm heading out on vacation soon (long overdue, I'm sure some of you would say!).

It's not so much a vacation as it is a library conference and a several days' long visit to the Corral, but the point is that I won't be at work for over a week.

Over the last few days, I've been just a little bit crazy trying to get everything together before I go, and, for some inexplicable reason, also trying to clean my apartment from top to bottom. Because that's what I do before I go out of town. I clean.

Today is my last day at work this week, and I've been counting down the hours, blissfully pondering how long it's been since my last week-long vacation.

Oh, a few months?

No, TWO AND A HALF YEARS.

I've taken a long weekend here and there, or a few days off at the holidays, but a whole week?? Not in over two years! How on EARTH have I let this happen?

No wonder I'm a bit panicky.

Or maybe it's just me and my need to make sure that not one single moment lacks entertainment. Books? DVDs - better check that my newly resurrected computer has the DVD software on it. Music? iPod loaded and charged! Magazines...hmm...have to pick the ones I don't mind leaving behind...

And then the wardrobe questions. Oh, the wardrobe questions. You see, I need the dress for the family wedding in the corral. I need "business casual" clothes for the conference. I need clothes that will prevent me from melting into a little puddle when faced with the hot, hot Oklahoma air.

In fact, when asked by my supervisor what I was looking forward to most at the conference, I told her, in all honesty, that I was most focused on what shoes to wear when I meet Orson Scott Card.

Of course, the biggest concern of all time, when, oh when, will I have time to paint my toenails?

In the whole scheme of things, that's what matters most, right?

Real World Wednesday

2008-06-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

I have read countless articles about how to go green. I have even invested in environmentally friendly dishsoap (I know, I start small). I use cloth bags when I go to the grocery store.

I also consume like nobody's business.

I buy t-shirts and pass them on to the homeless when they're worn out, or I've grown tired of them. I change fashion sense every couple of years, and don't even get me started on my ever-expanding shoe collection.

I have some self-control. If I don't go in stores, I don't buy things. But that's about where it ends.

Though I need to support the economy, I also need to be a less wasteful consumer.

My mom decided not to buy herself things, or to limit her purchases, in 2008. Perpahs I can follow her example, though not with quite so strict of rules.

The prediction from a famous NASA scientist that in our current time, we are having our last chance to save our planet scares me. I have got to wake up and make a change. I have to find a way to stop consuming everything in my wake.

How can I do this? How can you?
1) Reconsider a move to an urban environment. Is this really the end of suburbia?
2) Rely more on public transit, even if it is slower than my car.
3) Do less multi-tasking. How about using my computer only, and not having on the tv, the dvd player and the computer all at the same time?
4) In addition to my lovely pink water bottle at work, I should always bring my handy dandy travel mugs with me so that I don't end up tossing papercups all month.
5) Just stop. Have some will power and control my consumption.

This isn't the first time I've talked about this, but with the fires in California and the floods in Iowa, I feel like we're in a very dire situation. Something has to change, and it has to change now.

I'm Much Funnier in Real Life

2008-06-19T16:25:00.000-07:00

This blog has begun to bore me. It's not so much the logging on and writing as what I'm logging on an writing ABOUT. Yeah, I dropped the detailed analysis of my relationship with WG a while back...why? Oh, because people who actually know us quite well in real life READ THIS BLOG and would know things about my personal life that I'd rather they not have access to when we gather together for a little potluck and game night.

Them: Oh...so WG has been getting up to those whole tricks again, huh? What was it that last time that started off a two hour long discussion? Your ticking biological clock?

WG: What the hell?

Me: Uhm...

So, yeah, let's avoid that, shall we?

And then, I went on that whole "Real World Wednesday" kick. Don't get me wrong, I need to do that. I need to do that even when my post is mostly me ranting about how I can't seem to focus on anything outside of my own little life bubble. But given that I like to be self-obsessed in my little bubble, it takes a great stretch of my ability to buckle down and write the dang things.

Let's try to focus on the entertaining things, the stories my co-workers so enjoy. Trust me, they get a kick out of my exuberant hand gestures and my funky faces. Oh, and I do voices, as the situation arises.

Otherwise, you know what will happen to this blog? After six long years, it will just go far, far away, because I won't be able to stand logging-in and writing something completely vague, completely impersonal and completely dull.

And today?

Yup, got it.

The two phrases that have left my lips in the past two days that required a vastly different audience than the one in attendance.

1) Lauren Weisberger's Chasing Harry Winston is a disappointing follow-up to The Devil Wears Prada and Everyone Worth Knowing. It's utter fluff and complete brain candy that leaves me feeling unsatisfied.

The teenagers in my library bookclub just stared at me and said, and I quote, "Oooookay."

What I didn't say? That I feel a little guilty and displeased with myself for having spent time reading that drivel when I could have been reading Playing With the Grown-ups by Sophie Dahl.

2) I signed into Pandora and was listening to my Regina Spektor station. I can't say that I agree that Michelle Branch belongs in the same category as Regina Spektor, but whatever.

The response from the way-older-than-me but thinks he's super cool librarian? Silence.

3) My dad is so excited about the Celtics win that he took his jersey to work and hung it on the wall.

WG's response? Well, he just kind of stared at me and let out a loose, unconvincing laugh, but I swear, I could see him thinking, "I don't care. I don't like basketball AT ALL."

4) And I'll say it now. That novel I wrote that never got published? It was titled What Happened. Can I just say that I'm a bit peeved with Scott McClellan's publisher for stealing the title of my unpublished, never gonna be published novel?

That's all from my pleasant little bubble.

Real World Wednesday

2008-06-18T22:27:00.000-07:00

...actually posted on something resembling a Wednesday.

Lately, I have found tremendous comfort in curling up inside my own world, having concern only for family, friends and the little dramas and issues that fill my life.

I turn on the news, and I see destruction in Iowa.

I have deliberately turned away from the news in the hopes that I can, perhaps, avoid the world for just a bit. Life in the library, while replete with crazy customers who comment on the presence or lack of presence of my ankle brace, is not exactly full of doses of what happens outside of my sphere.

World avoidance is one of my strengths.

Luckily, though I have both Irene and my mom to keep me informed when I get caught up in the editorial stories on Yahoo, MSN, CNN, MSNBC...yeah, I make an effort to navigate to the news sites and end up reading about the best ways to conserve water, the family with sixteen children expecting their seventeenth. And before I know it, I'm several pages deep into the website, free from guilt, convincing myself that I'm educating myself.

So, instead of trying to keep up with the real world for right now, I'll try to learn more about the history of the world. Currently, I'm reading The Last of the Just by Andre Schwarz-Bart. It's a fictionalized account of the history of the persecution of the Jewish people. It sounds far more boring than it is, and it makes me feel far more intelligent than reading this did.

Real World Father's Day

2008-06-15T10:15:00.000-07:00

My father is my Knight in Shining Armor, and I am the princess who needs to be saved. I am a Daddy's Girl. And I have no shame in that. I am completely clear on the fact that Daddy is human. I also whole-heartedly believe in his super-hero status.

I am an only child. I am an only daughter. My father was a mere 25 years of age, and a very young 25, when I came into the world, and though he had a lot to learn as a husband, he seems to have taken to fatherhood quite naturally.

In our first picture together, he wears a yellow hospital gown, and holds a barely-5-pounds-me in his hands. I look tiny but safe. He gazes in awe at this tiny creature for whom he is now wholely responsible.

My mother will cry in heaving sobs when she tells of how she didn't get to meet me for three entire days after I was born. The nurses just kept neglecting to wheel her down to the NICU. But my father talked to me, held me and began to understand some of what it takes to be a father.

In the 27 (nearly 28) years that followed that photo, we've had our ups and downs, our fights and battles, most of them caused by the fact that we're incredibly alike in personality. Put to incredibly stubborn, defensive, unbelieving people and a room together, and you get two people who can't make a decision and who must consult resources before believing anything anyone says. It's fun.

But the truth is that my father has taught me what to look for in a future husband and what to expect from men in the world around me. With no qualms, I can say that my father has taught me about loyalty, honor and courage, because he has all three in immense quantity.

I love my Daddy, and I realize how incredibly lucky I am to be a girl who knows her father's flaws and can still respect him as a father and as a man.

So, here's to fathers being good to their daughters, because it's true what John Mayer says, daughters give love in response to how well their fathers can love them.

Happy Fathers' Day to all of the wonderful fathers out there, but especially to mine :).

I Don't Like You. Don't Talk to Me.

2008-06-07T14:48:00.000-07:00

I am not always the nicest person at work, and it's not the fault of the customers. Not really. Sometimes it is.

It's their fault when they've been borderline harassing me for two years and then decide to tell my supervisor that I've been "rude," when all I've been doing is resisting their creepy advances.

Tuesday was not a particularly splendid day for me. It was the first day of a week that won't end until this coming Tuesday; my ankle (sprained during our fabulous Memorial Day Camping Trip and re-sprained as Irene and I walked into what turned out to be the most-depressing movie since Schindler's List) hurt so badly that I felt sick to my stomach; the library had just opened.

The first few customers were courteous, and I happily answered their questions. I even ran out to re-align the front doors.

Then the creep entered. I won't go into all the details, but suffice it to say, he's overly familiar with a few of the younger women on staff, and we all act a bit differently. There are older men who flirt in that almost Southern way, calling all women "baby" and somehow managing not to offend anyone. This is not one of those men.

Anyway, I never want to talk to this man, and I always treat him the same, with a somewhat cold but polite demeanor. I don't encourage his conversation, but I smile and nod when he says hello.

That's not enough for him. He spoke with my supervisor for upwards of 20 minutes about my "rude" behavior.

The next morning, my two supervisors pulled me into an office and briefed me on some "techniques" I might try to make sure that he's "satisfied" with the level of attention he receives but won't perceive it as responding positively to his quest for closer communication.

These techniques:
1) Make eye contact, smile, but not too broadly, then look away.
2) When asked questions about my personal life, say "I don't talk about my personal life at work" and then giggle.

You think I'm kidding about the second one? No. They both demonstrated how I should say it.

It didn't help my situation that both of my supervisors - attractive in their own ways but not in the group that this man prefers to approach - said that they had dealt with this man before and "all of the encounters have been positive."

Let's repeat those techniques, just for good measure:
1) Make eye contact, smile, but not too broadly, then look away.
2) When asked questions about my personal life, say "I don't talk about my personal life at work" and then giggle.

I am now required by my employer to giggle at smarmy men.

I have a master's degree, and I am now required by my employer to giggle at smarmy men.

Crying Wolf

2008-06-05T15:21:00.000-07:00

I don't so much have a crisis every now and then as I make big decisions, or start towards a big decision and then change my mind.

That's not bad in and of itself. No, what's bad is that I tell people my plans. I involve them, and then I call the whole thing off.

For a brief moment (okay, so for about the last 3 weeks), I had it in my head that the time to move was NOW, and that moving out of state was by far the best idea I'd had in months. I also had it in my head that WG would be coming along for the ride, ready to flee the joint before the end of summer.

Yeah, not so much.

As the initial excitment waned, I read more about the library systems in the state to which I intended, in my imaginary world, to move. I learned that one of the less expensive cities in the metro area is less expensive because it has a crime rate worse than Oakland. And my idea of keeping myself close(r) to home mean that WG was 13 hours FURTHER away from his family, and he's already 20+ hours away by car.

But even though I approached this with calm and cool. Even though I did research and made no commitments, filed no applications, I still feel embarassed about my enthusiasm, about my announced now-defunct-decision.

It's not the first time I've done this. It's not even the first time in a year that I've done this.

Last November, I seriously contemplated a move to another county...not job, just to a new apartment. But that fell through, and I found myself informing people that the decision had to be unmade. That's not an easy thing to do.

This time, I didn't tell a LOT of people, but I told enough people that I feel foolish about it. Clearly, I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut.

So, for now, there's no wolf. There's no need to set aside moving boxes for me. I'm still just sittin' here, a librarian with dreams of escape :Þ.

Real World Wednesday

2008-06-04T15:53:00.001-07:00

A lot has happened in the world since I spent Wednesdays in May being grateful.

Obama clinched.

Hillary didn't concede.

Sharon Stone decided to be an idiot and say awful things about people killed in an earthquake.

Brangelina had twins...oh, wait...that didn't actually happen yet.

With the world disasters happening, I still continue to be grateful for my own life.

And I want some way to contribute to the efforts to fix/improve the world.

But I want to do more than give money.

That's why Conde Nast's article on volunTOURism caught my eye. Now, this may have to wait until the days when I have the disposable income to pay to travel to a foreign nation and work for free for a week, but it's still a nice thought.

Voluntourists travel to a country in need, and they give back. They teach. They build stoves. They put up houses. They give back in the short-term. Voluntourists don't live in Japan for six years, teaching English to businessmen. Voluntourists are like Christians on a mission trip, but without the evangelizing.

So, before you write a check, visit Voluntourism.org and think about new ways you can change the world.

Real World Wednesday

2008-05-28T16:50:00.001-07:00

The Gratitude List, final edition...for now.

1. For parents who understand, even when they'd rather just tuck their heads in the sand and prefer no changes were headed their way.
2. For a boyfriend and friends who didn't laugh at me when I twisted my ankle twice in the last half an hour of an entire weekend spent camping and hiking.
3. For that same boyfriend, who after the second fall, demanded that he carry the sleeping back strapped haphazardly to my back.
4. For new, shared memories with a treasured friend.
5. For showers.
6. For my loud, crazy cat back in my apartment after a weekend with my parents.
7. For the fear that makes me cautious as I consider major life changes in the coming months.
8. For that little voice in my head that monitors my actions and keeps me from driving people nuts.
9. For the end of a wonderful but somewhat life interupting photography class.
10. For running water.
11. For indoor plumbing.
12. For the quiet that is only found outdoors.
13. For the aches and pains in my body that remind me what I'm here for.
14. For the ability to let go, even when it hurts.
15. For pretty dresses and pretty, satiny shoes.
16. For walks with Daddy.
17. For easy answers to what I thought were difficult questions.
18. For new friends.
19. For peace of mind.
20. For blogging.

Real World...Friday?

2008-05-23T10:20:00.001-07:00

Okay, so my gratitude was delayed this week due to a hideously crashing laptop :(.

But I'm still here, and I'm still grateful.

1. I am grateful for a mother who is willing to fill the role of personal assistant every once in a while (and she knows I'll do the same for her).
2. I am grateful that my daddy looked really sad when I brought up the idea of me moving somewhere else. His sadness just shows that he loves having me around, and for that I'm grateful.
3. I am grateful for the luxury of considering sleeping outside on the ground a "fun" excursion, for which I am willing to pay money.
4. I am grateful for the wind that blew away the extreme heat.
5. I am grateful for my body, for the ability to run, walk and swim.
6. I am grateful that I can still function and, in fact, enjoy my life without having a working computer.
7. I am grateful for the ability to let go.
8. I am grateful for the restorative powers of cheese and crackers.
9. I am grateful that the fog that often surrounds my thoughts is surmountable.
10. I am grateful for the luxury to dream of a brighter future.
11. I am grateful for good movies that make me strong enough to reject wasting my life on the exceedingly bad movies.
12. I am grateful for friends who talk me down from the ledge.
13. I am grateful for summer clothes, flat shoes and short hair.
14. I am grateful for spooning.
15. I am grateful for the maturity to remove myself from my over-achiever tendencies, every once in a little while.
16. I am grateful for an iHome that lets me wake up to my own, happy little music each morning.
17. I am grateful for a respite from audio books and return to music cds.
18. I am grateful for getting to bed on time.
19. I am grateful for recognizing now that life and priorities will change dramatically whenever I have children.
20. I am grateful for postcards.

It's Times Like These I Wish We Could Climb Out of Our Skin

2008-05-16T15:11:00.001-07:00

It's hot.

Last week, last week, I was shivering as I got into my car in the mornings. I'd shutter and sputter and shake my head before starting my car. My hands cramped with the cold.

Last night, however, I wished I could simply slip out of my skin and rest in my bones.

There's an old Shel Silverstein poem about this exact thing:

It’s hot!
I can’t get cool,
I’ve drunk a quart of lemonade,
I think I’ll take my shoes off
And sit around in the shade.

It’s hot!
My back is sticky,
The sweat rolls down my chin.
I think I’ll take my clothes off
And sit around in my skin.

It’s hot!
I’ve tried with ‘lectric fans,
And pools and ice cream cones.
I think I’ll take my skin off
And sit around in my bones.

It’s still hot!

It's true, you see. I think if I had walked around in my bones, I would still have melted. I returned to my home at 9 at night. NINE AT NIGHT! And it was 89 degrees inside. 89 degrees inside a house is much hotter than 89 degrees outside. I opened the windows and doors, turned on the fan, and tried to let some of the day's worth of trapped heat out of my 600 square feet of living space.

Still hot, indeed.

Eventually, I downed about a quart of ice tea, put on something that was most certainly not flannel pajamas, and rested on top of all my sheets in the cool, dark. It wasn't actually cool; it's merely that the dark in the room gave over the impression of coolness. I thought cool thoughts. I tried to dwell on what lingering coolness I'd felt from watching Ice Age: The Meltdown and fell into a restless sleep.

I woke again nearly suffocating on the heat at five in the morning and turned on the dreaded air conditioning. The cat looked like he wanted to open his mouth and thank me. Instead, he joined, for the first time all night, on the bed and stretched out.

I stretched my body across the entire bed, letting no body part touch another.

It's hot.

Real World Wednesday

2008-05-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

Gratitude List.

1) I am grateful for ice cream on a hot day
2) I am grateful for the thought that if I transfer over to Wordpress, I may not take all of my archives with me
3) I am grateful that my family does not live in Burma...or China
4) I am grateful that my computer is in a nearly-crashed zone but I had backed up my most important info. Still, it feels like a fresh start, which I sorely need right now
5) I am grateful for smiling babies, laughing children and all manner of things when I get to play at being a children's librarian
6) In the same vein, I am grateful for laughing teenagers and the ability to beat them at DDR when I am doing my actual job of being a Young Adult Librarian
7) I am grateful to have a friend for every need
8) I am grateful for what autonomy I have at work
9) I am grateful that my parents returned safely from their vacation
10) I am grateful that summer weather has returned to California (I'll keep saying that one)
11) I am grateful for the realization that I MUST CHILL.
12) I am grateful for the escape I can find in books...and in Keeping Up with the Kardashians in those rare times when I have access to cable.
13) I am grateful for local produce and strawberries the size of my fist
14) I am grateful that we are nearing the end of our photography class, and I will have my Wednesday nights returned to me
15) I am grateful for the desire to learn
16) I am grateful for less time spent with the public in the past few weeks
17) I am grateful for the desire for change
18) I am grateful for fear or common sense, you take your pick, that keeps me from making spontaneous and dangerous decisions
19) I am grateful for a boyfriend willing to try to restore my computer for me
20) I am grateful that after this week, I don't have to work a Saturday for a little while

Swim

2008-05-10T12:15:00.000-07:00

I stepped into the shallow end, gradually letting the heated water cover my body. My suit, a speedo, not the least bit provocative, in blue shades of ocean waves, blended in with the dark water.

This time, I swam at night, the first time I've swum at night alone. It's a community pool, open till ten, and that fits with my often hectic schedule.

The first lap was, as always, pure joy. The water flowed over my body, and I felt at home, at peace. Since my first, early days of learning to swim, with my mom's waiting arms outstretched on the other side of the pool, I've been truly myself in the water.

By the third lap, my body had begun to ache in a familiar way. My triceps burned, and I felt relieved. I hadn't hit the pool in over six months, and I had begun to worry that my body would forget what it should know by instinct.

The pain is comforting. My muscles hurt but seemed to be thanking me for waking them.

The pool is small, and in the dark, it's a bit more dangerous to consider flip turns, so I left that treat for another day. But I swam, with my pink goggles squished up on my face. I watched the bottom of the pool as I completed my freestyle laps. I watched the sky and tried to swim in a straight line while using the gawky, awkward backstroke.

The breast stroke is my favorite. I cover ground quickly as I pull my body out of the water, and leapfrog my legs together again. I love the feeling as I shoot my arms forward and glide for a bit under water. I never quite the hang of gliding for as long as I should, but that moment of weightlessness, that one single glistening moment of speeding through the water is worth the effort.

Butterfly. No one ever asked me to swim this in a competition, and the truth is, I'm glad, for I never craved the triangular body of the best of the butterflyers. But I can do it. I can do it if I concentrate on pulling both of my arms up over my head, only to dive neatly back into the water, kicking my legs from my waist. It's a graceful motion, despite the wake of water I leave behind me as I move across the pool. I can do the least amount of this stroke, but that's okay, because my body aches from the effort.

When I finally exit the pool, after two more rounds of the easiest of strokes, freestyle and breast stroke, I can hardly pull myself out. I pride myself on never using the ladder, but as I almost drift back down into the water, I wonder at the sanity of that pride.

The wind has picked up, and I feel it whip around my wet body. I start patting myself dry with the towel I smartly left right beside the pool, instead of six steps away on a chair with my clothes and keys. The wind moves up my body, seeking something it can cling to, for I'm wiping away all of the water it craves.

I pull on a sweatshirt, flannel pajama pants, shakily shove my feet into my flipflops, and slowly walk back to my apartment.

As I feel the wobble in my step, I remember what my high school swim coaches used to say after a race, "If you can walk, you know you had more to give."

I've given my all in this one little workout, and I'm proud.

Because I Said I Would

2008-05-08T12:12:00.000-07:00

In answering the questions over at Yummy Sushi Pajamas, I promised to post the same questions on my little ole blog. Answer in the comments :)

1. Are you currently in a serious relationship?
2. What was your dream growing up?
3. What talent do you wish you had?
4. If I were to buy you a drink, what would it be?
5. Favorite vegetable?
6. What was the last book you read?
7. Which zodiac sign are you?
8. Any tattoos and/or piercings? Explain where.
9. What would you say is your worst habit?
10. If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride?
11. What is your favorite sport?
12. Do you have a mostly negative or optimistic attitude?
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
14. What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?
15. Tell me one weird fact about you.
16. Do you have any pets?
17. What would you do if I showed up at your house unexpectedly?
18. What was your first impression of me?
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
22. What color are your eyes?
23. Have you ever been arrested?
24. Bottle or can pop?
25. If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it?
26. What’s your favorite place to hang at?
27. Do you believe in ghosts?
28. What’s your favorite thing to do in your spare time?
29. Do you swear a lot?
30. What’s your biggest pet peeve?
31. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
32. Do you believe/appreciate romance?
33. Do you believe in God?
34. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you

Real World Wednesday

2008-05-07T16:12:00.000-07:00

An Attitude of Gratitude.

Continuing on last week's promise, Real World Wednesday, in the month of May will be about gratitude.

Each morning, as I stay in my bed, grabbing onto to those last few minutes of peace before I launch into my day, I think of reasons why I'm grateful. For me, this turns into a prayer, and I thank God for all the blessings in my life before I start my day.

Each evening, as I pass happily into a well-earned rest after a (usually) exhausting day, I do the same thing.

I've made more of a point to do this, carving out time for myself, rather than hoping it will be there, and it's made a difference.

For this week, here are twenty reasons to be grateful.

I am grateful:

1) For ecstatic puppy energy when I got to take care of the family dogs while my parents are out of town.
2) For the opportunity to see my friend blossom into motherhood after a bit of a rocky start.
3) For the more and more frequent moments when I truly do love my job.
4) For two days in a row with one of my favorite people in all the land.
5) For traditions that change shape over time but still matter.
6) For fresh fruit! Big ole watermelons! Sweet, juicy strawberries! Runny, sticky oranges!
7) For cold mornings and hot afternoons.
8) The moments when I feel that I really and truly know WG.
9) For the fact that I am no longer afraid that WG will begin to read this blog on a regular basis and be upset by its content.
10) For A feeling of great anticipation at the thought of Daddy opening his birthday present.
11) That I have the luxury time to play video games.
12) That I have the luxury time to read books I want to read.
13) That my parents took the time to teach me the important things about life when I was small, when I was a bit bigger and that they keep on teaching me.
14) That my great-grandparents, grandparents and parents fought through the wars, the poverty and the need for education to set me up on a solid, stable foundation.
15) That the cranky baby stopped crying, even if just for a moment, when I was rocking her back and forth.
16) That the Democratic presidential campaign is almost over, and I can go back to reading other news.
17) For funny, detailed e-mails from my best friend.
18) For the realization that I have no desire to speed up time just to get to certain milestone events in my life. I'm perfectly content taking each and every step of the journey.
19) For swimming weather! Finally!
20) For good moods.

Fashion Fix

2008-05-06T14:05:00.000-07:00

Over the course of the next several months, I have four weddings to attend. Lucky for all of us, no attendees at said weddings will overlap.

Wedding 1 is the wedding of a high school friend.

Wedding 2 is the wedding of WG's cousin (yep, another trip for me to the Corral).

Wedding 3 is the wedding of college friends.

Wedding 4 is the wedding of a family friend.

So, I need a dress...or dresses if necessary. The only person who will really suffer from one dress is me...and my wallet...and my photo album.

I have this dress available (that's me on the left in the pretty black dress):

These are the options that I most want to buy:

My budget is $200 or less (preferably much less). I don't want anything with a jersey material. I prefer that the dress not be entirely strapless (it's sad but true that my otherwise perfectly lovely breasts are just not enough to hold up a strapless dress without frequent interference on my part...and said interference sort of taints that "ladylike" image I'm trying to project). Oh, and a good return policy if I'm buying online.

Any suggestions? I need a dress that will pass muster with friends, potential future in-laws, and long-time family friends. Oh, and something that will not simply wilt in the June heat in Oklahoma...or California, for that matter.

Now I Know

2008-05-03T15:02:00.000-07:00

I lay awake during those last few precious moments before I had to rush into the workday. WG was sound asleep beside me, and, unbidden, thoughts of how I acted around my crushes when I was in college rose in my mind. I thought about whether or not I was different around WG when we first got together.

With several years of maturity on my side, I had certainly learned how to control my romantic sensibilities by the time I started dating WG. It's also true, however, that WG liked me in return, so I never felt that sense of desperate attraction fill my body (though I certainly had other emotional issues to deal with).

Trying to keep myself from dozing back to sleep (I'd already turned off the alarm), I let thoughts one particular crush fill my mind. I hadn't thought of him in years - my freshman year crush. But, think of him, I did. I thought of how I felt so strongly about him and clasped on to every bit of anything he did that encouraged me to believe he felt the same. By the end of the first semester, I had gotten it into my head that I needed to make a move. So, I invited him to a holiday party at the sorority house. I thought this was my big chance to move from friend to girlfriend.

I didn't live-in at the sorority yet and had dressed in my sparkley (yes, sparkley) teal dress in my dorm and hiked up to the house in my high-heels. By the time I reached the house, my curls had turned to loose waves, and the dress had started to droop just a little.

The Crush arrived soon after I did, and we awkwardly talked. I gave him a tour of the quiet upstairs of the house. Music pumped through the intercom line, and I stood in silence when the song switched to "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer. Oh, how I wanted him to kiss me in that moment, standing alone on the third floor, far from the crowd of sorority girls and their dates. How afraid I was that he would, that he wouldn't.

He didn't.

Though I think he must have known that I wanted him to just lean over and kiss me, even if just on the cheek.

Ten years later, it finally came to me. Do you know why he didn't kiss me? Because he didn't like me. Two years after reading He's Just Not That Into You, I am finally ready to retroactively apply it. He came to this party, because he was my friend. I stood in front of him in my limp (but still pretty) dress, my hair starting to reject the hairspray and begin its usual fly-away routine, and was not liked by him.

As I turned my attention back to the matter at hand, to pulling myself out of bed and heading to work, I had one last thought, "What must The Crush have thought?" How did he feel standing there with his friend in her withering finery, looking helplessly up at him, asking him for far more than he could ever give?

Ten years later, I can see things from his perspective.

Nothing was the same after that night. No more casual phone calls to go to a movie when class got canceled. No more promise of Giants games. No more walks and talks around Berkeley. For the first time, this morning, I regretted that I'd had such a crush on him and had lost his friendship as a result.

I don't know if we would have spent so much time together if I hadn't had that crush on him, seeing as I craved that closeness, but I do know that we no longer had any time together after I stood silently in the hall, willing him to kiss me.

I gently shook WG and told him I was leaving. He reached up with his arms, pulled me into his embrace, kissed me and said, "I love you." I let the past pass away, told WG I loved him right back and went on to my current life.

The Gratitude List

2008-04-30T16:26:00.000-07:00

Forty-two weeks into drumming up content for Real World Wednesday, there's some part of me that wants to admit defeat and just accept being a bit shallow and ignorant of the larger world around me. Then, there's a larger part of me that simply wants to keep the day as it is: Something I created, that I control, that I can use as I please.

Today's Real World Wednesday is The Gratitude List.

What's that?

Well, again, forty-two weeks into drumming up content for Real World Wednesday, I have learned that there are plenty of people in the world who do not lead lives as obviously blessed as my own. So, last night, as I was pondering how I could run around moaning and groaning about a few pimples when there was a twelve-year-old with burn scars all over her body asking for help at the reference desk, I thought about a gratitude list.

This is different than a love list or a 100 things list. No, this is a simple way to start each day. For May, each Real World Wednesday will consist of a gratitude list, a list of no less than 20 things for which I am grateful. Feel free to join in here, or on your own blog.

It's April 30. That gives everyone a week's start to get thinking.

And just to get us on a roll.

Thankful

1) For a mother who understands me and a father who protects me.
2) For a boyfriend who challenges me to stand up for my beliefs and not just roll over and let someone else win.
3) For friends who put up with whining and moping and groaning and complaining from me and then complain when they haven't heard from me in a while.
4) For a job that requires me to use my brain and keep on my toes.
5) For a roof over my head, a car to drive and food in my fridge.
6) For the unfailing love that is devotion from my cat and dogs.
7) For an income that affords me the gas I need to have the social life I crave.
8) For a healthy body that lets me run, jump, swim, climb, snowshoe and breathe.
9) For a faith in God and a curiousity about faith that keeps me learning about my religion.
10) For a private high school education that let me learn without fear.
11) For the degree from UC Berkeley that has opened countless doors.
12) For eyes that see the world from a slightly innocent perspective.
13) For fingers that type 90 words a minute, letting me express my thoughts as fast as I can think them.
14) For co-workers who listen to my tales, emphathize and work with me to come up with solutions.
15) For healthcare that allows me to get the care I need, when I need it.
16) For feet that dance and bounce and prance.
17) For supervisors who have faith in my abilities.
18) For strict but flexibile parents who made sure that the best I gave them was really the best I could do.
19) For the strength to have open, honest conversations with WG about the future.
20) For friends across the country who care about what happens in my life.

In Between

2008-04-29T11:05:00.000-07:00

I'm 27.

And I've just realized (again) that this means I'm an adult.

Yes, yes, I have an apartment, and I bought myself a new car four years ago, but it's only been in the past two weeks that I've realized that, as an adult, I have some say in the way things go in my life.

On the lighter side, that means that I can choose to go get a coffee with WG after my photography class has spent an hour and a half freezing outside taking action pictures of soccer players and police cadets. Correction, I can choose to go to Starbucks and get a warm beverage instead of going back into the classroom.

On the deeper side, I can stand up for my rights at work. I can admit that my health is more important than someone needing to hire an extra help worker to cover my shift. I am adult enough to work hard on not letting the guilt get to me when a supervisor asks if I can reschedule the appointment. I am adult enough to stand up and say that out of the four appointment times offered, this was the least intrusive on the schedule.

And, on the "Hey, I know I look young..." side, I can request more opportunities to be the lead worker. I may look young, but I've got more seniority than several of my co-workers, and that seems to get pushed aside.

I'm also adult enough to examine my own behavior and realize that there are some days when I am incapable of acting any older than the age of twelve. Sometimes, when I really need a nap, I'm five, and I do require someone, often WG, to tell me to go sleep, or I'll continue to be a kindergartener.

I'm still on the cusp in between adulthood and adolescence, viewing more and more from the adult perspective, these days. Happily, my newly discovered adulthood allows me to make more proactive choices and to pay attention to how I behave and to think about how others might interpret my behavior.

This growing up thing is hard. Maybe I should go take a nap...

Real World Wednesday

2008-04-23T23:44:00.000-07:00

Go Do Something

My union is in negotiations with what I shall refer to as "management." Both sides have points to declare, but many employees feel left without an unbiased opinion to guide them.

I know that's how I feel.

Still, it's my job, it's my co-workers' rights at stake. Well, our jobs aren't at stake, but issues of health insurance, disability coverage and alternate work schedules are at stake. There are big issues and small issues.

The point, though, is that I need to go do something. I'm starting small. I wear purple on "purple Tuesdays," I talk union talk with co-workers in the know, and today, well, today I signed up for a weekly e-mail newsletter. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

You may not be able to dive in headfirst to an issue. Taking action can take the form of taking an interest.

So, take an interest in something local.

Poems from a Poet I Heard Speak

2008-04-18T16:27:00.000-07:00

I was blessed to get to hear Czeslaw Milosz read aloud from his poetry during a lunchtime poetry session at the Doe Library at UC Berkeley. My father has long admired his work, and I was so happy to invite my dad to visit me on campus and hear this amazing man speak. I never took my dad to a Cal football game while I was a student, but I did take him to a poetry reading by his favorite poet. That's got to count for something.

Milosz is, perhaps, my father's one connection to a vague cultural inheritance. His Polish-speaking grandparents died long ago. His Polish-speaking father lives in a rest home in Arizona, mumbling his throughts in that slavic tongue, letting none of us know his secret thoughts. But Czeslaw Milosz translated his poems, allowing those of Polish background but not linguistically inclined, the chance to see inside the often - though not always - depressive Polish mind.

Father Explains

"There where that ray touches the plain
And the shadows escape as if they really ran,
Warsaw stands, open from all sides,
A city not very old but quite famous.

"Farther, where strings of rain hang from a little cloud,
Under the hills with an acacia grove
Is Prague. Above it, a marvelous castle
Shored against a slope in accordance with old rules.

"What divides this land with white foam
Is the Alps. The black means fir forests.
Beyond them, bathing in the yellow sun
Italy lies, like a deep-blue dish.

"Among the many fine cities that are there
You will recognize Rome, Christendom's capital,
By those round roofs on the church
Called the Basilica of Saint Peter.

"And there, to the north, beyond a bay,
Where a level bluish mist moves in waves,
Paris tries to keep pace with its tower
And reins in its herd of bridges.

"Also other cities accompany Paris,
They are adorned with glass, arrayed in iron,
But for today that would be too much,
I'll tell the rest another time."

A Poem For The End Of The Century

When everything was fine
And the notion of sin had vanished
And the earth was ready
In universal peace
To consume and rejoice
Without creeds and utopias,

I, for unknown reasons,
Surrounded by the books
Of prophets and theologians,
Of philosophers, poets,
Searched for an answer,
Scowling, grimacing,
Waking up at night, muttering at dawn.

What oppressed me so much
Was a bit shameful.
Talking of it aloud
Would show neither tact nor prudence.
It might even seem an outrage
Against the health of mankind.

Alas, my memory
Does not want to leave me
And in it, live beings
Each with its own pain,
Each with its own dying,
Its own trepidation.

Why then innocence
On paradisal beaches,
An impeccable sky
Over the church of hygiene?
Is it because that
Was long ago?

To a saintly man
--So goes an Arab tale--
God said somewhat maliciously:
"Had I revealed to people
How great a sinner you are,
They could not praise you."

"And I," answered the pious one,
"Had I unveiled to them
How merciful you are,
They would not care for you."

To whom should I turn
With that affair so dark
Of pain and also guilt
In the structure of the world,
If either here below
Or over there on high
No power can abolish
The cause and the effect?

Don't think, don't remember
The death on the cross,
Though everyday He dies,
The only one, all-loving,
Who without any need
Consented and allowed
To exist all that is,
Including nails of torture.

Totally enigmatic.
Impossibly intricate.
Better to stop speech here.
This language is not for people.
Blessed be jubilation.
Vintages and harvests.
Even if not everyone
Is granted serenity.

Are you celebrating National Poetry Month?