Bodies Are Stupid

Dear Body:

Lately, I hate you.

You make me sad.

Why have you stopped doing what I say?

Please get with the program - or I will ditch you

and find a new.

On the Back

Sometimes the most surprising things throw me. My grandpa died in March of 2007. This will be the 2nd Christmas without him. And yet, it still feels like the first. I remember the last Christmas we were all together like it was a couple days ago. We all sat in the living room with the tree. My grandpa and I were smashed together on the couch. I would periodically rest my head on his shoulder, or pat his leg. He was quiet, but only because we were all happy together. My mom and dad gave him a bed-in-a-bag and it made his pile of presents huge. He kept trying to keep them all arranged in a nice pile. He was always a neat person - he would fold up wrappers from candy bars or wrappers from a burrito into an amazingly tiny square. When I was small I was amazed at how much water he could wring out from a washcloth. His hands were strong and capable, even as he aged. And he moved them with a sort of solid deliberateness that did not leave him until he was very sick. He was a lefty, and at Thanksgiving we always made jokes about his elbows bumping ours.

This year when I arrived at my old home for Thanksgiving dinner, my mom brought out 2 pictures, nearly identical. One is of a small baby sitting on the lap of a smiling man in a maroon lazyboy. The other, the same scene, only the baby wears a large grin. As my mom handed them to me, I smiled and made some "oh" sound. But I couldn't talk about the pictures for too long, couldn't say how grateful I was. The pictures immediately began to draw tears up from wherever it is grief hides.

My grandpa's hands, those same true hands, are wrapped around my infant waist, supporting me. His legs are casual, one up on the seat, the other on the floor. Every detail of the picture reminds me of things lost; his hands, his house slippers, the maroon lazyboy he would often fall asleep in (my grandma pointing to him and saying "Pa" to wake him), the soft grin on his face. And saddest of all, on the back of the photos reads "Harold + Johanna Rose 1983" in his swirling left handed cursive.

It's all quite bittersweet. I love the snapshots so much. He and I had a special relationship; it was always sweet. No anger, nothing ever needed to forgive. The pictures, taken the year I was born, show the beginning of our friendship. He and I together. Grandpa was already retired and he took care of me several days a week through my toddler years. He never made me feel guilty if I was selfish and didn't visit as often as I should. He trusted me with his car when I had just been given my learner's permit. He was infinitely patient with me, with my grandma and her illness, with his own children. He was quiet and loving and intelligent and so wonderful - it's impossible to describe.

So I'm keeping the pictures, but I can't frame them. I'm keeping them in a plastic bag because I like to be able to see the back; the living part of the photo where he wrote our names together.

Give Thanks

I live my life at a semi-whirlwind pace...when I'm not napping.

But life is not going by so fast that I do not

pause

to breathe

and give thanks -

For my mother's life,

My father's love,

My brother's giggle,

The ability to be myself,

A magical marriage,

Friends and family,

Wit and wisdom,

And a beautiful world.

Shopping List

I'm a weird procrastinator. I will wait until the specified time I've designated in my own mind and then at that point, everything must be done. Of course, the designated point is generally the day/hour/minute before absolute breakdown. For example: shopping for Thanksgiving. I'm making all the side dishes and my mom is making the turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. So, I have a lot of cooking to do and that means I have a lot of shopping to do because Tom and I don't have random Thanksgivingy foods lying about. I don't like to go this close to "the day" because it is usually a mad house with lots of women out for blood for the last cube of butter and then it's a race to a long line at the checkout stand but my procrastination told me to go today...and I have no say in the matter. To my joy - my local grocer had each and every checkout line open! Yay! Go team!

I love it when things work out in my favor.

Needless Turkey Murder Day

I love Thanksgiving - but as a vegetarian - I must make a point of reminding everyone that millions of turkeys (and other poultry and livestock) are murdered for the consumption of human beings every year. Don't hate me; I, like many people, enjoy seeing the beautifully roasted turkey pulled out of the oven and lovingly coated with gravy to be devoured because it's tradition. But the cost is not worth it. I don't want to talk about it for too long because it upsets me and I don't want to ruin my own festive season, so may I simply (and un-soapboxily) suggest reading some literature?

• Slaughterhouse
• goveg.com
• peta.org
• Skinny Bitch
• The Jungle
• Turkey Facts

The majority of people have turned down a vegetarian lifestyle on the basis that "everyone eats meat." We all grow up eating meat, hearing that it's part of a "well balanced diet" and hearing about how healthy it is for us. But the norm isn't always the best for us. Used to be that "everyone smoked" or "everyone had unprotected sex."

I say: educate yourself and then you can make an informed decision. And if you don't switch to vegetarianism after your education, you can at least feel guilty while you eat murdered animals. :D I mean, I feel guilty that I'm not yet a vegan...

Hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Female Independence

What is the deal with being married? I swear, if some corporation/institution finds out I'm married, I get put on the back burner and they want to deal with my husband. When we moved into our apartment they wanted to know Tom's information even though I was the primary earner. They wanted to know what his income was (which was practically nill because he was going to school) and I told them so and they were like "what the fuck" and couldn't wrap their teeny tiny brains around it. If it were the other way around and I was the student and HE was the primary earner, they wouldn't think twice about the situation. But because it's me and I'm a girl (obviously helpless and in need of male support) and I'm married they always fall back to the husband.

A couple years ago we added each other to our separate (but equal) bank accounts. Well, sometimes I hate it. Only because if I'm on his account they ALWAYS want his permission. I understand that this is a safeguard in case one of us goes crazy and wants to spend all the money. Or perhaps if we are going through a nasty divorce and we want to cut the other one off from all the funds. But this is not us. We are stable. We are like a semi-single unit of thought. We make decisions together - but we don't need to actually BE together when the deed needs to be done.

Case in point - refinancing our car loan. We had already done all the paperwork and preliminary gobbledy gook hand in hand at the branch. Then, on Monday when it was time to finish it off, I left Tom at home thinking "I'll just take care of this realy quick." But no. They needed him there "of course" (Jesus, why would I think I could do it myself?) and once I got him there they acted like I was a rug.

Here's another example: I called to set up the utilites at our new apartment. I told her my name and gave her my social and blah blah blah. Then she asks "and your husband's name?" and I'm thinking, "Is that relevant?" I mean, I can't even have a utility bill in my own name? We've got to add him on just in case I default or decide to stop working so that I can have babies? Give me a break. I live in a world where women AND men are individuals who are capable of doing a lot of shit on their own. Just because Tom and I are married doesn't mean we're one person (despite the fact that we are usually with the other) and I should be able to - just sometimes - operate as a single unit. If I weren't married, would they ask for my dad's information? It's ridiculous. And quite frankly, it pisses me off.

Something Blue

My Tom loves to eat macaroni and cheese of the blue box variety. It is one of his usual after work meals that I usually prepare for him. However, on Saturday nights after having not eaten all bloody day, I am in no mood to cook up delicious cheesy pasta for anyone - regardless of how much I love them (yes, I will be a very mean mother). But tonight is Sunday and I have a satisfied belly so am in a much more amiable mood.

I always take out the pot and start the water boiling. I salt the water generously and put the burner on high. Once the water is at a hearty bubble, I throw in the noodles (only spiral or character shaped - NO elbows for us) and turn down the heat. After soft to the bite, the water gets drained and in go milk (an extra splash for good measure), faux margarine (the extra healthy, no trans-fat, no hydrogenated, plus omega 3s, plus flax seed crap), and cheese packet. Mix it up and then comes the best part: my test bite. Every time I make Tom's m and c I get one spoonful of cheesy, milky, piping hot noodles. You know, to make sure I made it right.

I gave up eating macaroni and cheese pretty much at birth. An adolescence of dance equals an adolescence of weight worries - so I always abstained from those "fattening" dishes - like macaroni and cheese. Plus, as a kid we never really had box mac and cheese at the house. When Tom and I were in high school and a mutual friend of ours invited us rappelling, Tom told me he would bring lunch for us. We had spent many late night conversations discussing all of the things we liked and disliked - and of course, this dish came up - especially because it was (and still is) one of the only things he could cook. He told me that he makes the BEST macaroni and cheese because he always pushes the noodles into the water with the bottom of the box, and he always adds a little extra milk. Once we were at the cliff, I was too scared to go down the mountain (big surprise) and so we sat in the car at the bottom of the rock face and ate his delicious macaroni and cheese cold.

We always have our pantry stocked with blue boxes - ready for making and remembering all the little reasons we fell in love.

I Heart Hearts

Artichoke hearts, my love - to you I say: yum.

You are very delicious and nutritious and high in fiber.

I buy you in bulk at Costco.

I bring you home and ask Tom to open your jar.

He complains because the marinade gets on his hands.

I pour all the marinade down the drain.

I refrigerate you and enjoy at my leisure.

Again, yum.

Projects

I have a bad habit of starting projects - or sometimes not even starting them - and then not finishing. I have no follow through. This is one of my worst qualities and I try not to become discouraged and start hate-ing myself. After all, I am an Aries (not that I believe in that crap) and inability to finish projects and birth in April apparently go hand in hand. Maybe someone can help me? Yeah, no. Another Aries trait (again, I claim disbelief) is independence. I will get around to these projects, finish them on my own, and they will be just as fabulous as if they were timely.

List of unfinished projects (order indicating nothing):

• crochet Mom's quilt from last Christmas before this Christmas
• sew Kenley's baby blanket (who will be 2 in January)
• crochet a co-worker's scarf
• finish piecing the quilt for our bed
• crochet hats and scarves for the homeless

Purse vs. Wallet

Many days I consider myself quite fortunate to be a girl. Most particularly, when Tom is running around looking for items like keys, wallet, badge, etc., when I can simply pick up my purse and be out the door. Not only are purses a fashion statement that is incredibly functional and versatile, but they are, let's face it, a dumping ground for all the little things that make life run smoothly.

I'm currently using a Dooney & Bourke bucket bag that was a gift from my mom-in-law for graduation. I absolutely love it - especially the fact that I can simply chuck crap in there and know that it is safe. Currently in my bag:

1. iPhone
2. "Duchess of Devonshire"
3. Trident Whitening Gum - peppermint flavor
4. Victoria's Secret Beauty Rush lip gloss
5. headphones
6. glasses case (with glasses within)
7. sunglasses (not in case)
8. throat lozenges
9. mirror
10. water bottle
11. lip liner
12. tampon
13. iPod Nano
14. pen

See? A man could never have this type of convenience - unless he carried a fanny pack - and then he would be shunned by society.

Of course, there are various downsides to having a purse. Namely: you have a bag all the time. You are never as free as "man with wallet" because you are toting on your shoulder "responsibility." My husband likes to use my purse when we go to the movies; as soon as we sit and the lights dim his wallet and keys and receipts and various bits of paper in his pockets become lost in the depths of my purse. And after the movie comes the inevitable digging about for his lost articles. But women don't have the luxury of putting things in their pockets because societal fashion deems women's pants be "hugging" and anything other than a stick of gum will be totally obvious. Also, when you have a purse you keep adding to your load. You think to yourself, "Oh, this will fit, I will just throw this or that in" and next thing you know, lifting your purse causes tennis elbow, engorged biceps, and defined triceps. Another annoyance connected with purses is when the damn thing tips over. My purse does not zip so a tip-over spills the contents all about. It's dreadful.

These negatives associated with purses are small problems that are easily overlooked when you take into account all the freedom purses allow for. When you have a purse you need never worry, as long as it is well stocked and fashionable.

Scrambled Eggs

Tom loves to have eggs and bacon for breakfast. I like to make it because it is quick and easy. Eggs are a great way to get some low calorie protein and they are incredibly versatile.

• Over easy with toast
• Poached
• Over medium
• Fried egg sandwiches
• Egg salad
• Boiled
• Deviled eggs
• Scrambled

Scrambled are the best because they are the easiest not to screw up. If you're a beginner, start with scrambled. Plus, making scrambled eggs is a beautiful, relaxing way to start the day. Here's how to make the most delicious eggs you will ever eat:

• Start your pan on med/low heat
• Add a tab of butter or margarine
• Crack your eggs into a cup
• Break the yolks with a fork
• Whip the eggs until there is no distinction between yolk and white
• Add a little milk
• Dump into the pan
• Add salt and pepper
• Leave the eggs alone until the edges firm up
• Using your spatula/wooden spoon pull the firm edges into the center, allowing the liquidy parts to seep out to the edge of the pan
• Repeat until the eggs are firm but still shiny

Yum.

Haunted

We have to read this book.

Apparently it can make you pass out - like one of my employees at work on Sunday night - when you listen to it. The book is titled "Haunted" and it is a series of short stories within a frame story. The characters within the frame story write the short stories contained within and it seems like all the tales and the characters are an odd combination of semi-deviant sexuality and scariness.

I guess the story that causes people to pass out (titled "Guts") begins with the line "hold your breath" and either the people are dumbasses and are actually holding their breath, or the story's gruesomeness is very effective. You can read more about it here...but I warn you - just the description is pretty graphic. Said employee was listening to this story when he started to feel "queasy and disturbed" so he turned it off. The next thing he knew my co-worker was standing over him. The girl sitting next to him said that he sort of slumped over and they couldn't get him to respond to them. By the time we got down to him, he was conscious but super green in the face - like he had no blood whatsoever.

We have to read this book. I mean, I hate scary stories and all that stuff, but this is some sort of weird urban legend thing like "The Ring" or "The Grudge" (both of which I have never seen) and we need to do a social experiment on ourselves and either listen to the audiobook or read it and see what all the fuss is about. Who's with me?

The Toilet Seat

Went to yoga yesterday and apparently something we did made my hamstrings super sore. Now, not only do sore hamstrings make walking/running/sitting/moving in general pretty slow and painful, but the toilet seat is a killer.

Toilet seats are shaped in such a way that the hamstring is gooshed out all over. If the seats were normal chairs you would feel a little discomfort, sure. But the slight oval and the height of the chair makes it so you come crashing down on the most painful part of your body.

And I drink A LOT of water so I hate the toilet seat today.

Half a Pound

Dammit.

I gained half a pound this week.

I think I celebrated my good fortune too soon.

Now I must punish myself in preparation for next week.

Dammit.

8s Tag

Okay, I normally hate this tag bullshit. But I'm bored and this should be quick and painless. Also, this "8s Tag" only had 6 topics. What the fuck? I added 2 more. If you already did your 8 but it was actually only 6 - you better do the 2 I added.

8 Fears

1. Scary movies
2. Spiders
3. Mirrors in a dark room
4. Tom's death
5. Nightmares you can't wake up from
6. Vacuuming while home alone
7. Childbirth
8. Falling from a great height

8 Favorite Movies

1. Pulp Fiction
2. Fight Club
3. Marie Antoinette
4. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
5. Closer
6. Moulin Rouge
7. Lost in Translation
8. Clue

8 Pet Peeves

1. Women with mustaches
2. Panty lines
3. Nose breathers
4. Dirty fingernails
5. Bad dye jobs
6. Ear and nose hair
7. Pit stains
8. Crumbs on the counter

8 Favorite TV Shows

1. Friends (duh)
2. Sex and the City (duh, again)
3. Bones
4. Battlestar Galactica
5. Damages
6. Pushing Daisies
7. Entourage
8. The Closer

8 Favorite Restaurants

1. Mimi's Cafe
2. Mee Kong Cafe
3. Olive Garden
4. Happy Sumo
5. Rumbi
6. Taco Time
7. Cafe Rio
8. Rubio's

8 Things That Happened Yesterday

1. I took a shower
2. I went to work
3. I was bored
4. I packed a pot pie for Tom's lunch
5. I had a meeting
6. I was paid overtime
7. I walked
8. Kenley called me

8 Things to Look Forward to

1. Being thin
2. Moving into the new apartment
3. Finishing projects (like quilts and blankets and scarves)
4. New season of 'Damages'
5. Buying furniture
6. Writing
7. Thanksgiving
8. Christmas

8 Things On My Wish List

1. World travel
2. Education
3. Fulfillment
4. A Wii
5. Continued health
6. A pet
7. End hunger
8. World peace

Done.

Ruggedly Good

Saw the new James Bond movie. Daniel Craig does not disappoint either with his acting nor with his appearance. I grew up with the Brosnan version of Bond, and I thought he was great. But that was until Daniel Craig entered my life. I know that some people out there do not think he is a good Bond - he's too this or too that.

These people are wrong.

Daniel Craig is tough - the toughest James Bond ever. He has no wimpiness whatsoever. And his face is ruggedly handsome, like he's so good looking he doesn't ever have to try and even if the lack of trying makes him a little uglier, it doesn't matter because it actually makes him sexier. Weird how that works, huh? It's really sexy how he throws his body around and just punches people and kills them without caring. None of that "shaken, not stirred" nonsense, just drinking, shooting, killing, and looking damn good. That's the real James Bond. And I love him.

Boooooring

God, I was so bored today, despite having accomplished quite a bit:

• laundry
• dishes
• tidy up the bedroom
• make the bed
• blogging

So to save myself I went to Target and shopped around. I bought some discount shirts. Yay. Sometimes I hate my days off because I get incredibly bored even if I have plenty of things to do. Does this happen to anyone else?

Making the Bed

Tom has an unfortunate habit of kicking the sheets out of the mattress. You see, my Granny taught me that when you make the bed you tuck the sheets in all around - making beautiful folds at each edge. This also creates a delicious envelope in which one can sleep. But Tom prefers "cocoon" to envelope, so he thrashes his legs about until the sheets pull free and uses them to create a cocoon of bedding.

And this makes the bed a cluster fuck.

As much as I love making the bed and buying numerous sets of sheets to make our bed a haven, I really hate the daily rearranging and remaking. I like to sleep in a bed where the sheets are pulled tight and the blankets are smoothed over your sleeping body. When you wake the bed is still nearly made and needs only to be lightly tugged back into perfection. Instead, the bed looks like a pile of laundry in the morning and the task of making it all over again stares me in the face. I just look the other way...

PS: This is a picture of someone's ACTUAL bed. Let me just say - their bedding is hideous. Ick.

Trekking

God damn. Jen (my sister-in-law) and I have decided to start going to this crazy ass running class at our gym. It is very cardio intense and goes something like this:

• brisk walk for 5 minutes
• up the incline and up the speed
• continue upping the speed and incline
• then, drop the incline and start running
• run for a long time
• then jog uphill
• then run full speed uphill
• then run around the gym (we usually skip that part)
• now walk fast uphill
• do jumping jacks
• skip
• walk
• now die

Doesn't that sound lovely? Yeah, not so much. I really hate the class, but it does what it's supposed to - that is, kick ass - so we keep going. Twice a week. Bleh.

I'm Glad It's Raining

Because that means it's not snowing.

It is difficult to see the positive side of a cold, rainy morning, but it is possible. Don't you think it would be worse to step into a pile of frozen flakes rather than a cold puddle? The snow getting stuck in your shoe and clumping on the hem of your pants. I mean, I think snow is beautiful and everything, but only when you're inside, or perhaps when you're bundled up warm. When you're on your way to work, however, snow is not okay. It sticks to the car. So you have to wipe off the car. And you're on your way to work so you're wearing a dress or perhaps thin dress pants. And your shoes aren't the best for trekking through the snow. And maybe, even worse, you have to scrape the ice off of the windshield. The roads are thick with traffic because the snow is sticking to the ground and everyone is driving pathetically slow to prevent sliding into other vehicles. So your drive to work is a stress filled 30 minutes. And then you're late.

And that's why I hate snow. And why I'm glad it's raining.

Sweet Smell

Ta da! I did it. I have, for 8 consecutive weeks, lost 1.5 lbs every week - equaling a grand total of 12 lbs. Yay! And, the best part, I am now the proud owner of $33 that I didn't have before. It's like someone paid me to lose weight and look better. Who can beat that? I love this weekly weigh-in thing. And I guess it's a good thing because I'm doing another 8 week-long contest with my work friends.

Starting right now.

Go.

Hungry Hippo

I am fucking starving.

A hole from my stomach to the outside world is slowly occurring.

I hate myself right now.

Poems

So, you know how this blog is like a chore? I mean, a chore in the sense that it is a writing exercise that I give myself to see if I will ever have the stamina to be a professional writer because they write and write for hours on end. I try to write everyday. Obviously, I'm not very successful. And the chore of writing is making my mind lash out at myself, I suppose.

I've started writing poetry again.

I know poetry is not everyone's cup of tea. Often, it isn't even what I serve at my tea parties, but sometimes one wants the lyrical magic of stanzas, alliteration, rhyme, rhythm, and so on. Perhaps it is because as a child I wrote pages of poems - silly rhymes and nonsense streams of words with similar sounds, gifts given to family members were poems about their name or their traits - but it pleases me to write outside of the proverbial prose box. I like to wrap my mind up in the sound of words. I like to read poetry and analyze how the words work together, and I also like to simply listen to the way they sound - leaving behind all my poetic theory.

To turn the language into something more than words is a best loved hobby. To take life and express it in a beautiful mystical way is why the world loves language. And why we keep writing. To find the perfect words in the perfect order.

Speaking of Legs

Yeah. Mine are incredibly short and stocky.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that I have "cankles" because even thought my legs are not long and luxurious, they are still shapely and slightly firm. However, I am glad that my husband is not a "leg man" because my legs aren't long and luxurious.

Sometimes I think about how it would be to buy "regular" length pants or not have to hem dress pants or not have my hems become frayed. Or I will sometimes imagine that simply crossing my legs is the sexiest thing alive because they are slim and nine miles long. But these are short (haha) lived and fleeting.

I work very hard not to hate my legs. I have, like many flawed people, embraced my legs and tried to make them endearing to myself (and hopefully others) in different ways:

1. I wear skirts
2. I wear tights
3. I don't wear shorts
4. I wear pants
5. I wear high heels
6. I wear tube socks at home

See - rather than try to hide my stumpy legs, I try to show them off in cutesy ways. This makes people associate them with "little" or "child-like" or "adorable" rather than seeing them as "unremarkable." Perhaps in a future life I will have the legs to be a model or a ballerina, but in the meantime I will settle for using what I've got to the best of my ability.

President Elect

Congratulations, Obama.

I can't wait for you to move into the White House because you and your family are adorable and I love the 4 of you so much. You have restored my faith in the American family and the American public and the American ideal that a person can DO what they want and BE what they want no matter what.

Thank you.

Vote, I Say

Vote.

Vote now.

Do not walk.

Do not run.

Only VOTE.

Please.

Fall Back

It's time for time to change.

Now is the time for time to reverse, which doesn't usually happen, but we will all turn back our clocks and live the same hour twice. My advice?

• Stay up late
• Make a mistake
• Fix it when the hour repeats itself

Or you could just use the hour to sleep a little longer, dream an extra dream, or work on the project you just "haven't found time for." Time is giving itself to us. And while time is usually considered the enemy - always marching forward, robbing us of our lives, our loved ones, our memories - once a year it falls prey to the rules of man.