April 2006 Archives

I have gardened! And it was good. I spent a ridiculous amount of time wandering around Lowe’s and Home Depot, filled with indecision, trying to pick out the right kind of flowers, because I had no idea what I was doing. And everyone else there seemed to be confidently loading massive amounts of dirt, shrubs, plants, flowers, tools, pavers and mulch into their carts or pickup trucks. There may have been a humiliating incident in Lowe’s where I was tried and failed to load a couple of very heavy bags of dirt into my cart. I could barely lift the bags (3 cubic feet of dirt in each) and every time I got them near the edge of the cart, it would start to roll away. After much effort and a little public swearing, I gave up. I got my dirt though – I made John go back with me and he took care of it. He’s very handy to have around, my husband is. I also did a little research and found out there is a nursery just down the road from my house, in the direction that I never go. The people at the nursery hit the perfect balance between friendly and helpful and letting me poke around on my own to figure out what I wanted. I’ll definitely go back there.

And now the ugly patch near my air conditioner is a lovely spot with two different kinds of dianthus, dwarf coreopsis, some blue flower and salvia. It looks sort of wildflower-y. The yucky sandbox has been transformed into a flower bed with snapdragons in the middle and purple, blue and white flowers and greenery around the edges. Sand weighs at least as much as dirt does, and we had to clear a lot of sand out of there. Now we have to figure out what to do with the sand. John and I tried to take the sand to the dump in Montgomery County twice today, and both times there were cars lined up down the drive and out into the street. I’m not sure what that’s about. And the Frederick County dump is closed on Sundays, so we couldn’t go there. Yes, I know we shouldn’t use the dump for a county we don’t live in. But we were down there helping Jules move into her house (yay, Jules is here ! Sadly, about 40 miles from my house, but I’ll take that over 400 miles) and we thought we’d just drop off the sand along the way. Plus, my family has lived in Montgomery County since 1976, and I don’t think we ever took anything to the dump, not even once. Actually, I believe my mom and my brother once took a tour of the recycling facility at the dump, but that’s not the same as using it for trash. So now I have a car full of trash bags filled with sand and stuffed into boxes to make them easier to carry.

I still have some work to do in the garden, but look at what I've accomplished so far:

Before:

After:

I believe I already mentioned burning my wrist on Wednesday. Sadly that was only the beginning of my fajita-related troubles. Usually when I make fajitas, I make up the marinade myself, but this time I decided to get all fancy and try a marinade mix. I was also trying these fake chicken strips for the first time and I was worried that my regular marinade wouldn’t be strong enough for them. Well, this mix was so strong that my eyes started watering while I was making it, so strength wasn’t really an issue.

It turned out to be so spicy that I could only eat about half of my fajita before I had to give up. Luckily, John loves spicy food, so he enjoyed it. Unfortunately, he also decided to share some of it with Seamus, which was a huge mistake. Huge. On Thursday morning, poor Seamus ran to the front door and howled because he was experiencing serious tummy troubles. Troubles which continued for most of the day. And then Thursday night he got up at 12:30 and again at 4:30 because he had to go out. Tired as I was, I was still grateful that he asked to go out. Two days later he is finally feeling better.

So, burned wrist, dinner I couldn’t eat, sick dog, no sleep for me or John. That’s fajitas 4, us 0. I don’t think I’ll be making them again. And John definitely won’t be giving Seamus anything spicy to eat again.

Today I found out that a guy I knew in high school has directed a movie about the Coachella music festival. Which is pretty damn cool when you think about it. He got to make a movie and interview a bunch of interesting bands. It’s the perfect thing for him, as I pretty much remember his only interests being music and filmmaking. Well, that and dating my friend Laila, who is pretty awesome, so that makes sense.

The Zen part is that it didn’t send me into a negative tailspin of “what the hell have I contributed to the world lately?” I’m happy for him. He wasn’t a particularly close friend, but I always liked him and I’m glad he’s been successful. And what’s more, I feel like my time will come. I’m never going to make a movie about the Coachella festival, or any movie about anything for that matter, but I have my own ideas and they’ll come together in their own way and in their own time. That’s not to say that I don’t have to do any work to accomplish some of my more creative goals, but there’s nothing wrong with the fact that I haven’t accomplished them yet.

Zen. Balance. Yep, I like it here.

John and I just had a very enjoyable hypothetical conversation about music appreciation lectures he’ll give our kids in hopes of ensuring that they have good taste musically. So far we’ve got “The Origins of Heavy Metal” and “Myths and Legends of Rock and Roll.” I’m sure there will be room for “Understanding the Subtleties of the Guitar Solo” and “Bauhaus and the Sisters of Mercy: On Not Taking Goth Music Too Seriously.” And then there’s “Rock Hits That Are Actually Old Blues Songs” and “Using the Internet to Discover Cool New Bands.” As one of John’s favorites and due to their complexity, Pink Floyd will no doubt get their own 300 level class.

We’re not serious, of course, although I’m sure every parent hopes their kids won’t like lousy music. And I’m sure every kid goes through a phase of loving some horrific boy band or poppy crap. I myself still harbor a love of Duran Duran and Depeche Mode that probably borders on uncool. Or maybe it is a weird thing to care about. Not that it is something I really have to worry about now (I might just want to focus on actually having a kid first) but oddly enough, I do kind of care. So while there won’t be actual lectures, I do intend to play lots of music for my kids in hopes of influencing them.

Maybe it’s because music is pretty important to both John and me. I’m surprised I don’t write about it more, as we spend plenty of time discussing music and listening to it. I thought I knew a lot about music before I met John, but he blows me away. He knows just about everything there is to know about music. I’m always shocked if I can come up with a band or artist he hasn’t heard of. He’s got an impressive wall of music in our basement, full of CDs, records, tapes, box sets, DVDs. And that doesn’t even get into the massive collection of live music he has.

Like a dumbass, I burned the shit out of my wrist tonight while heating up tortillas and typing is kind of a drag right now, so I’ll throw this open to you. What “classes” would you give your (hypothetical or actual)kids? What silly things do you worry about them doing or not doing, liking or not liking?

I have wanted to have a garden for years. I tried to grow a variety of different plants on the balcony of our apartment, but met with failure after failure. Now that I have a little yard to call my own, I’ve been daydreaming about the little garden I want to plant for months. And I’ve been ready to start for the last couple of weeks, but life and the weather keep getting in the way. Saturday, when I had time, it poured all day. Today, when I wasn’t even home, the weather was absolutely perfect. So instead of getting to grub around in the dirt constructing the garden I’ve been imagining in my back yard, I spent the day all dressed up, standing around in heels making inconsequential small talk with a bunch of strangers. Not my idea of a good time, although it was for a good cause. My mom and I were at a Jazz and Chocolate fundraiser for an organization that helps homeless families get homes. So in addition to standing around in heels talking to strangers in a crowded noisy place, I was also in a building full of luscious smelling, delicious looking decadent chocolates that I couldn’t eat. For hours. But it meant a lot to my mom that I went with her, so I’m glad I did it. Even if it means my garden has to wait until next weekend.

Until then, I did manage to get a few very pretty hanging baskets with flowering plants, and John hung them up on the fence today, intuitively putting them up just the way I wanted them. And Seamus has done his part:

Trudge through the drudgery.

My life hasn’t been bad lately, just boring. The five million ordinary details of my day, sucking all of the creative right out of me. Sometimes it feels like my to-do list never gets any shorter. There’s always some new insurance claim denial to dispute, another load of laundry to be done, one more item to be picked up at the grocery store. The high point of my day today was getting to the drycleaners with two minutes to spare. It was quite a triumph, as I was convinced that I was going to arrive at 8:02 the whole way home, and decided to go for it anyway. Actually, that’s not true. The highlight of my day was the way Seamus few across the room to greet me when I got home. And the way that John smiled at me. Anyway, I was talking to someone at work today about writing and I pointed out that the more you write, the better you get. So I decided to take my own advice and write something already in hopes of jump starting my brain again.

I have been awfully tired. I’m pretty sure it is a side effect of my complete overhaul of my diet and activity levels. My poor body is mightily confused. I’m making it work so much harder than it is used to, and it is not getting the sugar and simple carbs that it is used to, but for some reason, it’s not carbs that I’m craving. It’s protein. Oh, and oddly enough, the other day, mint chocolate chip ice cream. Which, if you know me at all, you’ll find particularly shocking, since I do not even like ice cream. Except for real vanilla with hot apple pie. Luckily, not liking ice cream makes it an easy craving to resist.

I will take a moment to pat myself on the back. I’m really sticking with my new plan. Sometimes I don’t get to exercise until late at night, but I do it. I think tonight might have been the least healthy dinner I’ve had in a month, and it was organic frozen pizza (no partially hydrogenated anything), carefully portioned out to stay in the healthy range. I just could not face one more salad, fake meat product or fresh vegetable. I’ll be back on the “Hungry? Eat some veggies” wagon tomorrow. I do think my body is starting to look a little better. I wish it would happen faster, of course, but I’m trying so hard to be realistic. I’m not getting on the scale until May 7, the day before I go in to the diabetes specialist for my evaluation. That way, I can tell her what I’ve been doing and show what sort of effect it has had (or not had) on my body.

There are other reasons to wait to get on the scale. I read an article the other day that said on average it takes about six weeks for you see any real difference when you try to make a change like this. I’m only at the four week mark, and I’d rather not get discouraged. I know my weaknesses, and my perfectionism has been voted “most likely to knock Hillary off track” by the rest of my flaws. It’s quite a distinction, really.

Side note: for some reason, I’m sticking extra c’s in everything tonight. Schocking. Disctinction. What’s that about?

Side note number two (number two, heh, heh): my husband is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. He just had me laughing so hard I started crying, just by making a face. True, the face was in response to the incredibly unimportant, ditzy and long-winded story I was telling him, but damn was it funny.

Actually, I’m getting fairly sleepy, so let’s make that an end note and I’ll call it a night.

As I may have mentioned, my friend Jules is moving back to DC at the end of April. I am beside myself with joy. It is going to be so great to have her close by again.

Jules has her own company, Girlz Nite Out (although she’s working on a new name) which I wrote about here, and here. Now that she’s relocating, she needs to start building business in this area. It works just like Tupperware or Pampered Chef, where you have a party and invite people over, but instead of selling cooking and storage products, she sells sexy stuff. She’s got lotions and potions and creams….stuff to make you smell good, and powders and gels to make your skin taste good….products that can make sex more playful and fun…and, of course toys. The toys are always the big attraction, but there’s a whole lot more to it than that. Like my favorite product, this great moisturizing shaving cream she sells that is the only thing that saves my legs from being dry and irritated in the winter.

Jules makes the parties that she throws a lot of fun. I’ll admit to being biased in her favor, but at the same time, I’ve been to two of her parties, and if little introverted me can have a good time in a room full of girls I (mostly) don’t know who are talking about sex, anyone can have fun at one of them. There are usually drinks and snacks, and generally a lot of chatter and laughter and good times.

So, I’m asking, if you’re in the Maryland, DC or Virginia area and you think you might be interested in hosting one of her parties, leave a comment, and I’ll tell you how to get in touch with her. Hostesses do get discounts and free stuff, and you’ll have a blast.

My boss, Amy, and my friend Becky and I have started going to the gym together from time to time. I got them to take a yoga class with me, and they didn’t hate it, so we’re going to do that on Thursday nights. Tonight Amy and I (Becky was busy with far more important matters like going to see Death Cab for Cutie) were going to try a class called Body Sculpting, but when we got in there, they were setting up double steps and getting out all sorts of complicated exercise accessories. She and I both had the same oh, hell, no reaction to that. I can barely handle one step, and that’s in a home environment where I can watch the video a few times so I can get the order right. There is no way I’m not going to wipe out in spectacular fashion with two steps, because I am wildly uncoordinated. And because there is this little thing working against me called gravity.

So instead we went and did the treadmills, which was nice because we could chat the whole time. And then Amy showed me how to use the elliptical machine. I’ve been terrified of the elliptical – it just looked intimidating. Plus, I was sure I would end up like Bill Murray in Lost in Translation, losing control of the machine while it shouted commands at me. But it turns out that it isn’t really hard to use, and I actually kind of liked it. Know what I didn’t like? The weight machines. I have my little free weights I use at home, and I like those fine. I think the weight machines are supposed to make using weights easier, but I just find them complicated. It may be because I am on the short side. They are probably geared toward people who are taller than me (read: just about everyone.) There are too many levers to deal with and adjustments to make before you can even get started, and then you have to study the diagrams to see if you have your feet in the right place or you risk losing a limb or something. No, I am not a fan of the weight machines. Still, I’m going to the gym, which is a good start. The variety between that and exercising at home and yoga classes should help keep me focused. And conquering my admittedly irrational fear of the elliptical machine is a bonus. Go me.

I am powerless in the face of an empty paper towel holder.

If I happen to pass through the kitchen at work and see that the paper towel holder is empty, I am compelled to stop and put a new roll up. My mom would be so pleased to know that her years of nagging have paid off. The irony of course, is that it didn't happen until after I grew up and moved out of her house.

Back when I was in college, I met a friend of a friend who was from Guam or American Samoa, I think. He was very into fitness, and just had a different perspective on many aspects of life, having been raised outside the American mainstream. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, he didn’t eat junk food or consume caffeine. I remember asking him, so what do you do at 2 am when you have five more pages to write on your paper? Because that was when I did my best work, hunkered down in front of my crappy word processor, clutching a Coke in one hand, shoving aside the wrappers for Cheddar & Sour Cream potato chips and Twix bars to flip through reference books and notes and typing with the other hand while a Marlboro Red smoldered in the ash tray. To this day, I’m sure it would feel weird to sit down to write a school paper without my old stand-bys.

But I would have to, since I quit smoking years ago, and all of the rest of that stuff is strictly on the forbidden list for me now. Or at the very least, strictly on the only three or four times per year list. And it is a bit of struggle to get used to a new way of living. On Thursday I was fighting with some copy at work that needed to be energetic and urgent feeling, which is especially tricky when you are the polar opposite of energetic. I just can’t seem to get my body clock to switch so that I can go to sleep at my usual time, which means I’m exhausted in the mornings. I keep hoping I’ll just get worn out enough that I’ll be able to sleep, but so far, no such luck. Now, normally, when I’m feeling low energy I’d just go get a Coke, but now I can’t do that. I’m trying so hard to make good new choices – exercising regularly instead of haphazardly, really changing both the type and quantity of food that I eat, committing to a whole new lifestyle – but part of me is very worried that it just won’t work. That I won’t lose weight or get fit, that I won’t be able to control my cholesterol or blood sugar, that I’ll be tired and have sore muscles for the rest of my life (or until I give up). And worst of all, I worry that I’ll just never be able to come up with that burst of creative energy without the jolt of caffeine or sugar or whatever it was that helped me get going. That copy I wrote last week was most definitely not my best, and yet I couldn’t find a way to make it any better.

Most likely I’ll go back at it tomorrow or Tuesday, and maybe I’ll finally get it right. I have a whole other piece I need to write, which luckily doesn’t have to be written in quite the same strong voice as the two pieces from last week, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed about that one going more smoothly. And outside of work, I’ll keep plugging away here, as well as on a few other creative project ideas I’ve had recently. I hope that if I keep trying things, sooner or later I’ll get my old groove back. Or find a new one.

The makers of Sudafed Sinus Headache claim that it is a non-drowsy formula. The makers of Sudafed Sinus Headache, while they do provide us with an excellent product to help with sinus headaches, cannot be trusted to tell the truth about the drowsiness issue. Furthermore, I'd like to declare that...Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I’ve just returned from a wonderful, relaxing, restoring long weekend with my bestest buds from college, Jules, Julie and Ariane. We all converged on Julie’s parents’ vacation house in the Poconos (which was free for us, yay! And thanks Julie and Julie’s parents) because it had been far too long since we all got together. Jules brought her son Malcolm and Julie brought her little boy Ben.

We didn’t do all that much, just played with the kids, who provided hours and hours of entertainment. Malcolm and Ben are so gorgeous, and smart and sweet and such a blast to be around. Malcolm is a little firecracker, two and a half years old and talking up a storm, just like his mama. Ben is 18 months old and has a smile that will melt your heart. One of the cutest things I think I’ve ever seen was the sight of little, blonde, curly-haired Ben meandering through the living room, clutching a tiny Nerf football and singing the Oompa Loompa song. And Malcolm had us all laughing so hard we were crying when he invented this bizarre Bubba Freebie game at dinner.

After the kids went to bed, the four of us just sat around and talked, which was way better than it sounds. There are very few people in the world with whom I can be 100% myself without any reservations, but we speak the same language, the four of us. There’s no pretending or nonsense. We all have the same sense of humor. They get me, and I get them. We talked through each other’s problems, seriously and humorously. Julie, when I was telling her how I couldn’t get an appointment with the diabetes specialist for months “See you in June. And hope you still have your feet!” The answer to my infertility? Crack. I can’t believe I never thought of trying that one. When we weren’t gabbing about current events, we reminisced about our favorite college memories. It was supposed to be a top ten list, but we had so many good times we gave up on trying to number them. I’m pleased to say the great Cow Caper made it pretty high on the list too.

And then today we packed all our stuff up, cleaned the house and headed for our various homes under the chilly grey Van Gogh sky. No offense central and eastern Pennsylvania, but you are kind of boring. Every once in a while I’d come around a curve on 81 and a pretty valley would be spread out in front of me, but for the most part, it was dullsville. The most exciting thing that happened was that I drove through a town called Frackville, which was hysterically funny after a couple of hours of watching bare trees and rocks go by (it’s still winter in most of PA – I didn’t see any green until I hit Harrisburg). Somehow I missed Frackville on the drive up, but today I pictured it as a town composed of Battlestar Galactica fanatics. They all just moved their clocks forward by 60 centars (I think a centar is a minute, right? Or is it a second? Or wait, is it centon? Whatever, you get the idea.) and the SciFi channel is like a local network.

Now I am home, where spring is firmly entrenched. The tree in my front yard has started flowering, and all sorts of blooms are popping up in the front and back gardens. John is playing a computer game and Seamus is snoozing by my side. All is right with my world. So how was your weekend?